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Produced by deaurider, Turgut Dincer 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
WILD ELEPHANT.
LONDON
PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO.
NEW-STREET SQUARE
[Illustration: AN ELEPHANT CORRAL.]
THE
WILD ELEPHANT
AND
_THE METHOD OF CAPTURING
AND TAMING IT IN
CEYLON_.
BY
SIR J. EMERSON TENNENT, BART.
K.C.S. LL.D. F.R.S. &c.
AUTHOR OF “CEYLON, AN ACCOUNT OF THE ISLAND,
PHYSICAL, HISTORICAL, AND TOPOGRAPHICAL,”
ETC.
LONDON:
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1867.
_TO_
MY INTELLIGENT COMPANION
IN MANY OF THE JOURNEYS THROUGHOUT THE MOUNTAINS AND
FORESTS OF CEYLON, IN THE COURSE OF WHICH MUCH
OF THE INFORMATION CONTAINED IN THIS
VOLUME WAS COLLECTED;
_TO_
MAJOR SKINNER,
CHIEF COMMISSIONER OF ROADS AND PUBLIC WORKS,
ETC., ETC.
ONE OF THE MOST EXPERIENCED AND VALUABLE SERVANTS OF
THE CROWN;
IT IS INSCRIBED,
IN THE HOPE THAT IT MAY RECALL TO HIM THE
PLEASANT MEMORIES WHICH IT
AWAKES IN ME.
PREFACE.
In this volume, the chapters descriptive of the structure and habits
of the wild elephant are reprinted for the sixth time from a larger
work,[1] published originally in 1859. Since the appearance of the
First Edition, many corrections and much additional matter have been
supplied to me, chiefly from India and Ceylon, and will be found
embodied in the following pages.
To one of these in particular I feel bound to direct attention. In the
course of a more enlarged essay on the zoology of Ceylon,[2] amongst
other proofs of a geological origin for that island, distinct from
that of the adjacent continent of India, as evidenced by peculiarities
in the flora and fauna of each respectively, I had occasion to advert
to a discovery which had been recently announced by Temminck in
his _Survey of the Dutch possessions in the Indian Archipelago_,[3]
that the elephant which abounds in Sumatra (although unknown in the
adjacent island of Java), and which had theretofore been regarded as
identical in species with the Indian one, has been found to possess
peculiarities, in which it differs as much from the elephant of India
as the latter does from its African congener. On this new species, to
which the natives give the name of “_gadjah_,” TEMMINCK has conferred
the scientific designation of the _Elephas Sumatranus_. The points
which entitle it to this distinction he enumerates minutely in the
work[4] before alluded to, and they have been summarized as follows by
Prince Lucien Bonaparte.
“This species is perfectly intermediate between the Indian and African,
especially in the shape of the skull, and will certainly put an end to
the distinction between _Elephas_ and _Loxodon_, with those who admit
that anatomical genus; since although the crowns of the teeth of _E.
Sumatranus_ are more like the Asiatic animal, still the less numerous
undulated ribbons of enamel are nearly quite as wide as those forming
the lozenges of the African. The number of pairs of false ribs (which
alone vary, the true ones being always six) is fourteen, one less
than in the _Africanus_, _one_ more than in the _Indicus_; and so
it is with the dorsal vertebræ, which are twenty in the _Sumatranus_
(_twenty-one_ and _nineteen_ in the others), whilst the new species
agrees with _Africanus_ in the number of sacral vertebræ (_four_), and
with _Indicus_ in that of the caudal ones, which are _thirty-four_.”[5]
Professor SCHLEGEL of Leyden, in a paper lately submitted by him to
the Royal Academy of Sciences of Holland, (the substance of which he
obligingly communicated to me, through Baron Bentinck the Netherlands
Minister at this Court), confirmed the identity of the Ceylon
elephant with that found in the Lampongs of Sumatra. The osteological
comparison of which TEMMINCK has given the results was, he says,
conducted by himself with access to four skeletons of the latter; and
the more recent opportunity of comparing a living Sumatran elephant
with one from Bengal, served to establish other though minor points
of divergence. The Indian species is more robust and powerful; the
proboscis longer and more slender; and the extremity, (a point in which
the elephant of Sumatra resembles that of Africa,) is more flattened
and provided with coarser and longer hair than that of India.
Professor SCHLEGEL, adverting to the large export of elephants from
Ceylon to the Indian continent, which has been carried on from
time immemorial, suggests the caution with which naturalists, in
investigating this question, should first satisfy themselves whether
the elephants they examine are really natives of the mainland,
or whether they have been brought to it from the islands. “The
extraordinary fact,” he observes in his letter to me, “of the identity
thus established between the elephants of Ceylon and Sumatra, and the
points in which they are found to differ from that of Bengal, leads to
the question whether all the elephants of the Asiatic continent belong
to one single species; or whether these vast regions may not produce in
some quarter as yet unexplored the one hitherto found only in the two
islands referred to? It is highly desirable that naturalists who have
the means and opportunity, should exert themselves to discover, whether
any traces are to be found of the Ceylon elephant in the Dekkan; or of
that of Sumatra in Cochin China or Siam.”
To me the establishment of a fact so conclusively confirmatory of the
theory I had ventured to broach, was productive of great satisfaction.
But in an essay by DR. FALCONER, since published in the _Natural
History Review_ for January 1863, “On the Living and Extinct Species of
Elephants,” he adduces reasons for questioning the accuracy of these
views as to _Elephas Sumatranus_. The idea of a specific distinction
between the elephants of India and Ceylon, Dr. Falconer shows to have
been propounded as far back as 1834, by Mr. B. H. Hodgson, the eminent
ethnologist and explorer of the zoology of Nepal; Dr. Falconer’s own
inspection however of the examples of both as preserved in the Museum
of Leyden, not only did not lead him to accept the later conclusion of
SCHLEGEL and TEMMINCK, but induced him to doubt the correctness of the
statements published by the Prince of Canino, both as to the external
and the osteological characters of the Indian elephant. As to the
former, he declares that the differences between it and the elephant
of Ceylon are so trifling, as not to exceed similar peculiarities
observable between elephants taken in different regions of continental
India, where an experienced mahout will tell at a glance, whether a
newly captured animal was taken in the Sal forests of the North-Western
Provinces, in Assam, in Silhet, Chittagong, Tipperah, or Cuttack. The
osteological distinctions and the odontography, Dr. Falconer contends,
are insufficient to sustain the alleged separateness of species. He
equally discredits the alleged differences regarding the ribs and
dorsal vertebræ, and he concludes that, “on a review of the whole case,
the evidence in every aspect appears to him to fail in showing that the
elephant of Ceylon and Sumatra is of a species distinct from that of
continental India.”[6] He thinks it right, however, to add, that the
subject is one which “should be thoroughly investigated,” as the hasty
assumption that the elephants of Ceylon and Sumatra belong to distinct
species has been put forward to support the conjecture of a geological
formation for the island of Ceylon distinct from that of the mainland
of India; a proposition to which Dr. Falconer is not prepared to accede.
Having ventured to originate the latter theory, and having sustained
it by Schlegel’s authority as regards the elephant of Sumatra, I think
it is incumbent on me to give becoming prominence to the opposite
view entertained by one so eminently entitled to consideration as Dr.
Falconer.
In the course of my observations on the structure and functions of the
elephant, I have ventured an opinion that an animal of such ponderous
and peculiar construction, is formed chiefly for progression by easy
and steady paces, and is too weighty and unwieldy to leap, at least to
any considerable height or distance. But this opinion I felt bound to
advance with reserve, as I had seen in an interesting article in the
_Colombo Observer_ for March 1866, descriptive of a recent corral, the
statement that an infuriated elephant had “fairly leaped a barrier 15
feet high, only carrying away the upper crossbeam with a crash.” (See
p. 40.) Doubtful of some inaccuracy in the measurements, I took the
precaution of writing to Mr. Ferguson, the editor, to solicit further
enquiry. Since the following pages have been printed, I have received
from that gentleman the correction, which I now subjoin.
“My dear Sir Emerson,—I have just had a letter from Mr. Samuel
Jayetileke, the Cutchery Modliar of Kornegalle, in reply to my queries
about the height of the fence over which the elephant sprang. The
result is the usual one whenever exact measurements are substituted
for guess-work: I stated 15 feet as the height of the fence, and
this was the information given to me at the time. But the report of
Kumbowattewene, the Ratemahat-meya who has since gone to measure the
place, is, that where the elephant leaped over, the height was 12 feet.
The exact height of the leap was however only 9 feet; for besides that
in his rush he knocked away the top bar, it is found that in the corner
at which he escaped, there is a mound formed by a white ant’s nest, two
and a half feet high, on which he must have climbed to help him over. I
trust this information may be in time to prevent my original statement
from going forth without modification in your new book. The leap is
still a pretty good one.—Yours | 1,739.454237 |
2023-11-16 18:46:03.6356830 | 199 | 13 |
Produced by David Widger, Dagny, and John Bickers
DOCTOR PASCAL
By Emile Zola
Translated By Mary J. Serrano
I.
In the heat of the glowing July afternoon, the room, with blinds
carefully closed, was full of a great calm. From the three windows,
through the cracks of the old wooden shutters, came only a few scattered
sunbeams which, in the midst of the obscurity, made a soft brightness
that bathed surrounding objects in a diffused and tender light. It
was cool here in comparison with the overpowering heat that was felt
outside, under the fierce rays of the sun that blazed upon the front of
the house.
Standing before the press which faced the windows, Dr. Pascal was
looking for a paper that he had come in search of. With doors wide
open, this immense press of carved oak, adorned with strong and handsome | 1,739.655723 |
2023-11-16 18:46:03.7396050 | 1,787 | 46 |
Transcribed from the 1887 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
THE DIARY OF A MAN OF FIFTY
by Henry James
Florence, _April 5th_, 1874.--They told me I should find Italy greatly
changed; and in seven-and-twenty years there is room for changes. But to
me everything is so perfectly the same that I seem to be living my youth
over again; all the forgotten impressions of that enchanting time come
back to me. At the moment they were powerful enough; but they afterwards
faded away. What in the world became of them? Whatever becomes of such
things, in the long intervals of consciousness? Where do they hide
themselves away? in what unvisited cupboards and crannies of our being do
they preserve themselves? They are like the lines of a letter written in
sympathetic ink; hold the letter to the fire for a while and the grateful
warmth brings out the invisible words. It is the warmth of this yellow
sun of Florence that has been restoring the text of my own young romance;
the thing has been lying before me today as a clear, fresh page. There
have been moments during the last ten years when I have fell so
portentously old, so fagged and finished, that I should have taken as a
very bad joke any intimation that this present sense of juvenility was
still in store for me. It won't last, at any rate; so I had better make
the best of it. But I confess it surprises me. I have led too serious a
life; but that perhaps, after all, preserves one's youth. At all events,
I have travelled too far, I have worked too hard, I have lived in brutal
climates and associated with tiresome people. When a man has reached his
fifty-second year without being, materially, the worse for wear--when he
has fair health, a fair fortune, a tidy conscience and a complete
exemption from embarrassing relatives--I suppose he is bound, in
delicacy, to write himself happy. But I confess I shirk this obligation.
I have not been miserable; I won't go so far as to say that--or at least
as to write it. But happiness--positive happiness--would have been
something different. I don't know that it would have been better, by all
measurements--that it would have left me better off at the present time.
But it certainly would have made this difference--that I should not have
been reduced, in pursuit of pleasant images, to disinter a buried episode
of more than a quarter of a century ago. I should have found
entertainment more--what shall I call it?--more contemporaneous. I
should have had a wife and children, and I should not be in the way of
making, as the French say, infidelities to the present. Of course it's a
great gain to have had an escape, not to have committed an act of
thumping folly; and I suppose that, whatever serious step one might have
taken at twenty-five, after a struggle, and with a violent effort, and
however one's conduct might appear to be justified by events, there would
always remain a certain element of regret; a certain sense of loss
lurking in the sense of gain; a tendency to wonder, rather wishfully,
what _might_ have been. What might have been, in this case, would,
without doubt, have been very sad, and what has been has been very
cheerful and comfortable; but there are nevertheless two or three
questions I might ask myself. Why, for instance, have I never
married--why have I never been able to care for any woman as I cared for
that one? Ah, why are the mountains blue and why is the sunshine warm?
Happiness mitigated by impertinent conjectures--that's about my ticket.
6th.--I knew it wouldn't last; it's already passing away. But I have
spent a delightful day; I have been strolling all over the place.
Everything reminds me of something else, and yet of itself at the same
time; my imagination makes a great circuit and comes back to the starting-
point. There is that well-remembered odour of spring in the air, and the
flowers, as they used to be, are gathered into great sheaves and stacks,
all along the rugged base of the Strozzi Palace. I wandered for an hour
in the Boboli Gardens; we went there several times together. I remember
all those days individually; they seem to me as yesterday. I found the
corner where she always chose to sit--the bench of sun-warmed marble, in
front of the screen of ilex, with that exuberant statue of Pomona just
beside it. The place is exactly the same, except that poor Pomona has
lost one of her tapering fingers. I sat there for half an hour, and it
was strange how near to me she seemed. The place was perfectly
empty--that is, it was filled with _her_. I closed my eyes and listened;
I could almost hear the rustle of her dress on the gravel. Why do we
make such an ado about death? What is it, after all, but a sort of
refinement of life? She died ten years ago, and yet, as I sat there in
the sunny stillness, she was a palpable, audible presence. I went
afterwards into the gallery of the palace, and wandered for an hour from
room to room. The same great pictures hung in the same places, and the
same dark frescoes arched above them. Twice, of old, I went there with
her; she had a great understanding of art. She understood all sorts of
things. Before the Madonna of the Chair I stood a long time. The face
is not a particle like hers, and yet it reminded me of her. But
everything does that. We stood and looked at it together once for half
an hour; I remember perfectly what she said.
8th.--Yesterday I felt blue--blue and bored; and when I got up this
morning I had half a mind to leave Florence. But I went out into the
street, beside the Arno, and looked up and down--looked at the yellow
river and the violet hills, and then decided to remain--or rather, I
decided nothing. I simply stood gazing at the beauty of Florence, and
before I had gazed my fill I was in good-humour again, and it was too
late to start for Rome. I strolled along the quay, where something
presently happened that rewarded me for staying. I stopped in front of a
little jeweller's shop, where a great many objects in mosaic were exposed
in the window; I stood there for some minutes--I don't know why, for I
have no taste for mosaic. In a moment a little girl came and stood
beside me--a little girl with a frowsy Italian head, carrying a basket. I
turned away, but, as I turned, my eyes happened to fall on her basket. It
was covered with a napkin, and on the napkin was pinned a piece of paper,
inscribed with an address. This address caught my glance--there was a
name on it I knew. It was very legibly written--evidently by a scribe
who had made up in zeal what was lacking in skill. _Contessa
Salvi-Scarabelli, Via Ghibellina_--so ran the superscription; I looked at
it for some moments; it caused me a sudden emotion. Presently the little
girl, becoming aware of my attention, glanced up at me, wondering, with a
pair of timid brown eyes.
"Are you carrying your basket to the Countess Salvi?" I asked.
The child stared at me. "To the Countess Scarabelli."
"Do you know the Countess?"
"Know her?" murmured the child, with an air | 1,739.759645 |
2023-11-16 18:46:03.9425780 | 2,160 | 9 |
Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF ST. CLOUD
By Lewis Goldsmith
Being Secret Letters from a Gentleman at Paris to a Nobleman in London
Volume 2
LETTER XII.
PARIS, August, 1805.
MY LORD:--Bonaparte has been as profuse in his disposal of the Imperial
diadem of Germany, as in his promises of the papal tiara of Rome. The
Houses of Austria and Brandenburgh, the Electors of Bavaria and Baden,
have by turns been cajoled into a belief of his exclusive support towards
obtaining it at the first vacancy. Those, however, who have paid
attention to his machinations, and studied his actions; who remember his
pedantic affectation of being considered a modern, or rather a second
Charlemagne; and who have traced his steps through the labyrinth of folly
and wickedness, of meanness and greatness, of art, corruption, and
policy, which have seated him on the present throne, can entertain little
doubt but that he is seriously bent on seizing and adding the sceptre of
Germany to the crowns of France and Italy.
During his stay last autumn at Mentz, all those German Electors who had
spirit and dignity enough to refuse to attend on him there in person were
obliged to send Extraordinary Ambassadors to wait on him, and to
compliment him on their part. Though hardly one corner of the veil that
covered the intrigues going forward there is yet lifted up, enough is
already seen to warn Europe and alarm the world. The secret treaties he
concluded there with most of the petty Princes of Germany, against the
Chief of the German Empire which not only entirely detached them from
their country and its legitimate Sovereign, but made their individual
interests hostile and totally opposite to that of the German
Commonwealth, transforming them also from independent Princes into
vassals of France, both directly increased has already gigantic power,
and indirectly encouraged him to extend it beyond what his most sanguine
expectation had induced him to hope. I do not make this assertion from a
mere supposition in consequence of ulterior occurrences. At a supper
with Madame Talleyrand last March, I heard her husband, in a gay,
unguarded, or perhaps premeditated moment, say, when mentioning his
proposed journey to Italy:
"I prepared myself to pass the Alps last October at Mentz. The first
ground-stone of the throne of Italy was, strange as it may seem, laid on
the banks of the Rhine: with such an extensive foundation, it must be
difficult to shake, and impossible to overturn it."
We were, in the whole, twenty-five persons at table when he spoke thus,
many of whom, he well knew, were intimately acquainted both with the
Austrian and Prussian Ambassadors, who by the bye, both on the next day
sent couriers to their respective Courts.
The French Revolution is neither seen in Germany in that dangerous light
which might naturally be expected from the sufferings in which it has
involved both Princes and subjects, nor are its future effects dreaded
from its past enormities. The cause of this impolitic and anti-patriotic
apathy is to be looked for in the palaces of Sovereigns, and not in the
dwellings of their people. There exists hardly a single German Prince
whose Ministers, courtiers and counsellors are not numbered, and have
long been notorious among the anti-social conspirators, the Illuminati:
most of them are knaves of abilities, who have usurped the easy direction
of ignorance, or forced themselves as guides on weakness or folly, which
bow to their charlatanism as if it was sublimity, and hail their
sophistry and imposture as inspiration.
Among Princes thus encompassed, the Elector of Bavaria must be allowed
the first place. A younger brother of a younger branch, and a colonel in
the service of Louis XVI., he neither acquired by education, nor
inherited from nature, any talent to reign, nor possessed any one quality
that fitted him for a higher situation than the head of a regiment or a
lady's drawing-room. He made himself justly suspected of a moral
corruption, as well as of a natural incapacity, when he announced his
approbation of the Revolution against his benefactor, the late King of
France, who, besides a regiment, had also given him a yearly pension of
one hundred thousand livres. Immediately after his unexpected accession
to the Electorate of Bavaria, he concluded a subsidiary treaty with your
country, and his troops were ordered to combat rebellion, under the
standard of Austrian loyalty. For some months it was believed that the
Elector wished by his conduct to obliterate the memory of the errors,
vices, and principles of the Duc de Deux-Ponts (his former title). But
placing all his confidence in a political adventurer and revolutionary
fanatic, Montgelas, without either consistency or firmness, without being
either bent upon information or anxious about popularity, he threw the
whole burden of State on the shoulders of this dangerous man, who soon
showed the world that his master, by his first treaties, intended only to
pocket your money without serving your cause or interest.
This Montgelas is, on account of his cunning and long standing among
them, worshipped by the gang of German Illuminati as an idol rather than
revered as an apostle. He is their Baal, before whom they hope to oblige
all nations upon earth to prostrate themselves as soon as infidelity has
entirely banished Christianity; for the Illuminati do not expect to reign
till the last Christian is buried under the rubbish of the last altar of
Christ. It is not the fault of Montgelas if such an event has not
already occurred in the Electorate of Bavaria.
Within six months after the Treaty of Lundville, Montgelas began in that
country his political and religious innovations. The nobility and the
clergy were equally attacked; the privileges of the former were invaded,
and the property of the latter confiscated; and had not his zeal carried
him too far, so as to alarm our new nobles, our new men of property, and
new Christians, it is very probable that atheism would have already,
without opposition, reared its head in the midst of Germany, and
proclaimed there the rights of man, and the code of liberty and equality.
The inhabitants of Bavaria are, as you know, all Roman Catholics, and the
most superstitious and ignorant Catholics of Germany. The step is but
short from superstition to infidelity; and ignorance has furnished in
France more sectaries of atheism than perversity. The Illuminati,
brothers and friends of Montgelas, have not been idle in that country.
Their writings have perverted those who had no opportunity to hear their
speeches, or to witness their example; and I am assured by Count von
Beust, who travelled in Bavaria last year, that their progress among the
lower classes is astonishing, considering the short period these
emissaries have laboured. To any one looking on the map of the
Continent, and acquainted with the spirit of our times, this impious
focus of illumination must be ominous.
Among the members of the foreign diplomatic corps, there exists not the
least doubt but that this Montgelas, as well as Bonaparte's Minister at
Munich, Otto, was acquainted with the treacherous part Mehde de la Touche
played against your Minister, Drake; and that it was planned between him
and Talleyrand as the surest means to break off all political connections
between your country and Bavaria. Mr. Drake was personally liked by the
Elector, and was not inattentive either to the plans and views of
Montgelas or to the intrigues of Otto. They were, therefore, both doubly
interested to remove such a troublesome witness.
M. de Montgelas is now a grand officer of Bonaparte's Legion of Honour,
and he is one of the few foreigners nominated the most worthy of such a
distinction. In France he would have been an acquisition either to the
factions of a Murat, of a Brissot, or of a Robespierre; and the Goddess
of Reason, as well as the God of the Theophilanthropists, might have been
sure of counting him among their adorers. At the clubs of the Jacobins
or Cordeliers, in the fraternal societies, or in a revolutionary
tribunal; in the Committee of Public Safety, or in the council chamber of
the Directory, he would equally have made himself notorious and been
equally in his place. A stoic sans-culotte under Du Clots, a stanch
republican under Robespierre, he would now have been the most pliant and
brilliant courtier of Bonaparte.
LETTER XIII.
PARIS, August, 1805.
MY LORD:--No Queen of France ever saw so many foreign Princes and
Princesses in her drawing-rooms as the first Empress of the French did
last year at Mentz; and no Sovereign was ever before so well paid, or
accepted with less difficulty donations and presents for her gracious
protection. Madame Napoleon herself, on her return to this capital last
October, boasted that she was ten millions of livres--richer in diamonds;
two millions of livres richer in pearls, and three million of livres
richer in plate and china, than in the June before, when she quitted it.
She acknowledged that she left behind her some creditors and some money
at Aix-la-Chapelle; but at Mentz she did not want to borrow, nor had she
time to gamble. The gallant ultra Romans provided everything, | 1,739.962618 |
2023-11-16 18:46:03.9524000 | 1,654 | 7 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Reiner Ruf, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber’s Note:
###################
This e-text is based on the 1908 edition of the book. Minor
punctuation errors have been tacitly corrected. Inconsistencies
in hyphenation and spelling, such as ‘ale-house’/‘alehouse’ and
‘Mary Wilcocks’/‘Mary Willcocks,’ have been retained. The asterism
symbols in the book catalogue at the end of this text have been
inverted for presentation on electronic media.
The following passage has been corrected:
# p. 126: ‘1852’ → ‘1825’
# p. 685: ‘fro mthe’ → ‘from the’
Italic text has been symbolised by underscores (_italic_); forward
slashes represent small caps (/small caps/). Caret symbols (^)
signify superscript characters; multiple characters have been
grouped inside curly braces: ^{superscript}.
DEVONSHIRE CHARACTERS
AND STRANGE EVENTS
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
YORKSHIRE ODDITIES
TRAGEDY OF THE CÆSARS
CURIOUS MYTHS
LIVES OF THE SAINTS
ETC. ETC.
[Illustration:
_G. Clint, A.R.A., pinxt._ _Thos. Lupton. sculpt._
MARIA FOOTE, AFTERWARDS COUNTESS OF HARRINGTON, AS MARIA DARLINGTON IN
THE FARCE OF “A ROWLAND FOR AN OLIVER” (1824)]
DEVONSHIRE
CHARACTERS
AND STRANGE EVENTS
BY S. BARING-GOULD, /M.A./
WITH 55 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
REPRODUCED FROM OLD PRINTS, ETC.
O Jupiter!
Hanccine vitam? hoscine mores? hanc dementiam?
/Terence/, _Adelphi_ (Act IV).
LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMVIII
PLYMOUTH: WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LIMITED, PRINTERS
PREFACE
In treating of Devonshire Characters, I have had to put aside the chief
Worthies and those Devonians famous in history, as George Duke of
Albemarle, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake, Sir Joshua Reynolds,
the Coleridges, Sir Stafford Northcote, first Earl of Iddesleigh, and
many another; and to content myself with those who lie on a lower
plane. So also I have had to set aside several remarkable characters,
whose lives I have given elsewhere, as the Herrings of Langstone (whom
I have called Grym or Grymstone) and Madame Drake, George Spurle the
Post-boy, etc. Also I have had to pretermit several great rascals,
as Thomas Gray and Nicholas Horner. But even so, I find an _embarras
de richesses_, and have had to content myself with such as have had
careers of some general interest. Moreover, it has not been possible to
say all that might have been said relative to these, so as to economize
space, and afford room for others.
So also, with regard to strange incidents, some limitation has been
necessary, and such have been selected as are less generally known.
I have to thank the kind help of many Devonshire friends for the
loan of rare pamphlets, portraits, or for information not otherwise
acquirable--as the Earl of Iddesleigh, Lady Rosamond Christie, Mrs.
Chichester of Hall, Mrs. Ford of Pencarrow, Dr. Linnington Ash, Dr.
Brushfield, Capt. Pentecost, Miss M. P. Willcocks, Mr. Andrew Iredale,
Mr. W. H. K. Wright, Mr. A. B. Collier, Mr. Charles T. Harbeck, Mr.
H. Tapley Soper, Miss Lega-Weekes, who has contributed the article
on Richard Weekes; Mrs. G. Radford, Mr. R. Pearse Chope, Mr. Rennie
Manderson, Mr. M. Bawden, the Rev. J. B. Wollocombe, the Rev. W. H.
Thornton, Mr. A. M. Broadley, Mr. Samuel Gillespie Prout, Mr. S. H.
Slade, Mr. W. Fleming, Mrs. A. H. Wilson, Fleet-Surgeon Lloyd Thomas,
the Rev. W. T. Wellacott, Mr. S. Raby, Mr. Samuel Harper, Mr. John
Avery, Mr. Thomas Wainwright, Mr. A. F. Steuart, Mr. S. T. Whiteford,
and last, but not least, Mr. John Lane, the publisher of this volume,
who has taken the liveliest interest in its production.
Also to Messrs. Macmillan for kindly allowing the use of an engraving
of Newcomen’s steam engine, and to Messrs. Vinton & Co. for allowing
the use of the portrait of the Rev. John Russell that appeared in
_Bailey’s Magazine_.
I am likewise indebted to Miss M. Windeatt Roberts for having
undertaken to prepare the exhaustive Index, and to Mr. J. G. Commin for
placing at my disposal many rare illustrations.
For myself I may say that it has been a labour of love to grope among
the characters and incidents of the past in my own county, and with
Cordatus, in the Introduction to Ben Jonson’s _Every Man out of his
Humour_, I may say that it has been “a work that hath bounteously
pleased me; how it will answer the general expectation, I know not.”
* * * * *
I am desired by my publisher to state that he will be glad to
receive any information as to the whereabouts of pictures by another
“Devonshire Character,” James Gandy, born at Exeter in 1619, and a
pupil of Vandyck. He was retained in the service of the Duke of Ormond,
whom he accompanied to Ireland, where he died in 1689. It is said that
his chief works will be found in that country and the West of England.
Jackson of Exeter, in his volume _The Four Ages_, says: “About the
beginning of the eighteenth century was a painter in Exeter called
Gandy, of whose colouring Sir Joshua Reynolds thought highly. I heard
him say that on his return from Italy, when he was fresh from seeing
the pictures of the Venetian school, he again looked at the works of
Gandy, and that they had lost nothing in his estimation. There are many
pictures of this artist in Exeter and its neighbourhood. The portrait
Sir Joshua seemed most to value is in the Hall belonging to the College
of Vicars in that city, but I have seen some very much superior to it.”
Since then, however, the original picture has been taken from the
College of Vicars, and has been lost; but a copy, I believe, is still
exhibited there, and no one seems to know what has become of the
original.
Not only is Mr. Lane anxious to trace this picture, but any others in
Devon or Ireland, | 1,739.97244 |
2023-11-16 18:46:03.9603690 | 1,483 | 26 | GIRL***
This eBook was prepared by Stewart A. Levin.
A LITTLE COOK-BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL
by
CAROLINE FRENCH BENTON
Author of ``Gala Day Luncheons''
Boston, The Page Company, Publishers
Copyright, 1905
by Dana Estes & Company
For
Katherine, Monica and Betty
Three Little Girls
Who Love To Do
``Little Girl Cooking''
Thanks are due to the editor of Good Housekeeping for
permission to reproduce the greater part of this book
from that magazine.
INTRODUCTION
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Margaret, and she
wanted to cook, so she went into the kitchen and tried and tried,
but she could not understand the cook-books, and she made dreadful
messes, and spoiled her frocks and burned her fingers till she just
had to cry.
One day she went to her grandmother and her mother and her Pretty
Aunt and her Other Aunt, who were all sitting sewing, and asked
them to tell here about cooking.
``What is a roux,'' she said, ``and what's a mousse and what's an
entrée? What are timbales and sautés and ingredients, and how do
you mix 'em and how long do you bake 'em? Won't somebody please
tell me all about it?''
And her Pretty Aunt said, ``See the flour all over that new frock!''
and her mother said, ``Dear child, you are not old enough to cooks
yet;'' and her grandmother said, ``Just wait a year or two, and
I'll teach you myself;'' and the Other Aunt said, ``Some day you
shall go to cooking-school and learn everything; you know little
girls can't cook.''
But Margaret said, ``I don't want to wait till I'm big; I want to
cook now; and I don't want to do cooking-school cooking, but little
girl cooking, all by myself.''
So she kept on trying to learn, but she burned her fingers and
spoiled her dresses worse than ever, and her messes were so bad
they had to be thrown out, every one of them; and she cried and cried.
And then one day her grandmother said, ``It's a shame that child
should not learn to cook if she really wants to so much;'' and her
mother said ``Yes, it is a shame, and she shall learn! Let's get
her a small table and some tins and aprons, and make a little
cook-book all her own out of the old ones we wrote for ourselves
long ago,--just the plain, easy things anybody can make.'' And both
her aunts said, ``Do! We will help, and perhaps we might put in
just a few cooking-school things beside.''
It was not long after this that Margaret had a birthday, and she
was taken to the kitchen to get her presents, which she thought
the funniest thing in the world. There they all were, in the
middle of the room: first her father's present, a little table
with a white oilcloth cover and casters, which would push right
under the big table when it was not being used. Over a chair her
grandmother's present, three nice gingham aprons, with sleeves and
ruffled bibs. On the little table the presents of the aunties,
shiny new tins and saucepans, and cups to measure with, and spoons,
and a toasting-fork, and ever so many things; and then on one corner
of the table, all by itself, was her mother's present, her own
little cook-book, with her own name on it, and that was best of all.
When Margaret had looked at everything, she set out in a row the big
bowl and the middle-sized bowl and the little wee bowl, and put the
scalloped patty-pans around them, and the real egg-beater in front of
all, just like a picture, and then she read a page in her cook-book, and
began to believe it was all true. So she danced for joy, and put on a
gingham apron and began to cook that very minute, and before another
birthday she had cooked every single thing in the book.
This is Margaret's cook-book.
PART I.
THE THINGS MARGARET MADE FOR BREAKFAST
A LITTLE COOK BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL
CEREALS
1 quart of boiling water.
4 tablespoonfuls of cereal.
1 teaspoonful of salt.
When you are to use a cereal made of oats or wheat, always begin
to cook it the night before, even if it says on the package that
it is not necessary. Put a quart of boiling water in the outside
of the double boiler, and another quart in the inside, and in this
last mix the salt and cereal. Put the boiler on the back of the
kitchen range, where it will be hardly cook at all, and let it
stand all night. If the fire is to go out, put it on so that it
will cook for two hours first. In the morning, if the water in
the outside of the boiler is cold, fill it up hot, and boil hard
for an hour without stirring the cereal. Then turn it out in a
hot dish, and send it to the table with a pitcher of cream.
The rather soft, smooth cereals, such as farina and cream of rice,
are to be measured in just the same way, but they need not be cooked
overnight; only put on in a double boiler in the morning for an hour.
Margaret's mother was very particular to have all cereals cooked a
long time, because they are difficult to digest if they are only
partly cooked, even though they look and taste as though they were done.
Corn-meal Mush
1 quart of boiling water.
1 teaspoon of salt.
4 tablespoons of corn-meal.
Be sure the water is boiling very hard when you are ready; then
put in the salt, and pour slowly from your hand the corn-meal,
stirring all the time till there is not one lump. Boil this half
an hour, and serve with cream. Some like a handful of nice plump
raisins stirred in, too. It is better to use yellow corn-meal in
winter and white in summer.
Fried Corn-meal Mush
Make the corn-meal mush the day before you need it, and when it
has cooked half an hour put it in a bread-tin and smooth it over;
stand away overnight to harden. In the morning turn it out and
slice it in pieces half an inch thick. Put two tablespoons of
lard or nice drippings in the frying-pan, and make it very hot.
Dip each piece of mush into a pan | 1,739.980409 |
2023-11-16 18:46:04.1365870 | 5,991 | 16 |
E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland and the Project Gutenberg Online
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See 24285-h.htm or 24285-h.zip:
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DAYS OFF
And Other Digressions
by
HENRY VAN <DW18>
[Illustration: Our canoes go with the river, but no longer easily or
lazily.]
I do not count the hours I spend
In wandering by the sea;
The forest is my loyal friend,
Like God it useth me:
Or on the mountain-crest sublime,
Or down the oaken glade,
O what have I to do with Time?
For this the day was made.
--RALPH WALDO EMERSON
Illustrated
New York
Charles Scribner's Sons
MDCCCCVII
Copyright, 1907, by Charles Scribner's Sons
Printed in October, 1907
Reprinted in November, 1907
Reprinted in December, 1907
To
MY FRIEND AND NEIGHBOUR
GROVER CLEVELAND
WHOSE YEARS OF GREAT WORK
AS A STATESMAN
HAVE BEEN CHEERED BY DAYS OF GOOD PLAY
AS A FISHERMAN
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
WITH WARM AND DEEP REGARDS
Avalon,
July 10th, 1907.
CONTENTS
I. _Days Off_ 1
II. _A Holiday in a Vacation_ 23
III. _His Other Engagement_ 57
IV. _Books that I Loved as a Boy_ 101
V. _Among the Quantock Hills_ 117
VI. _Between the Lupin and the Laurel_ 139
VII. _Little Red Tom_ 177
VIII. _Silverhorns_ 193
IX. _Notions about Novels_ 221
X. _Some Remarks on Gulls_ 233
XI. _Leviathan_ 271
XII. _The Art of Leaving Off_ 309
ILLUSTRATIONS
_Our canoes go with the river, but no longer easily
or lazily_ Frontispiece
Facing page
_On such a carry travel is slow_ 36
_A notion to go down stream struck the salmon_ 88
_There was the gleam of an immense mass of silver in
its meshes_ 94
_Tannery Combe, Holford_ 126
"_Billy began to call, and it was beautiful_" 206
_There he stood defiant, front feet planted wide apart_ 218
_She took the oars and rowed me slowly around the shore_ 266
DAYS OFF
"A day off" said my Uncle Peter, settling down in his chair before the
open wood-fire, with that air of complacent obstinacy which spreads
over him when he is about to confess and expound his philosophy of
life,--"a day off is a day that a man takes to himself."
"You mean a day of luxurious solitude," I said, "a stolen sweet of
time, which he carries away into some hidden corner to enjoy alone,--a
little-Jack-Horner kind of a day?"
"Not at all," said my Uncle Peter; "solitude is a thing which a man
hardly ever enjoys by himself. He may practise it from a sense of duty.
Or he may take refuge in it from other things that are less tolerable.
But nine times out of ten he will find that he can't get a really good
day to himself unless he shares it with some one else; if he takes it
alone, it will be a heavy day, a chain-and-ball day,--anything but a
day off."
"Just what do you mean, then?" I asked, knowing that nothing would
please him better than the chance to discover his own meaning against a
little background of apparent misunderstanding and opposition.
"I mean," said my Uncle Peter, in that deliberate manner which lends a
flavour of deep wisdom to the most obvious remarks, "I mean that every
man owes it to himself to have some days in his life when he escapes
from bondage, gets away from routine, and does something which seems to
have no purpose in the world, just because he wants to do it."
"Plays truant," I interjected.
"Yes, if you like to put it in that objectionable way," he answered;
"but I should rather compare it to bringing flowers into the
school-room, or keeping white mice in your desk, or inventing a new
game for the recess. You see we are all scholars, boarding scholars, in
the House of Life, from the moment when birth matriculates us to the
moment when death graduates us. We never really leave the big school,
no matter what we do. But my point is this: the lessons that we learn
when we do not know that we are studying are often the pleasantest, and
not always the least important. There is a benefit as well as a joy in
finding out that you can lay down your task for a proper while without
being disloyal to your duty. Play-time is a part of school-time, not a
break in it. You remember what Aristotle says: '_ascholoumetha gar hina
scholazomen_.'"
"My dear uncle," said I, "there is nothing out of the common in your
remarks, except of course your extraordinary habit of decorating them
with a Greek quotation, like an ancient coin set as a scarf-pin and
stuck carelessly into a modern neck-tie. But apart from this
eccentricity, everybody admits the propriety of what you have been
saying. Why, all the expensive, up-to-date schools are arranged on your
principle: play-hours, exercise-hours, silent-hours, social-hours, all
marked in the schedule: scholars compelled and carefully guided to
amuse themselves at set times and in approved fashions: athletics,
dramatics, school-politics and social ethics, all organized and
co-ordinated. What you flatter yourself by putting forward as an
amiable heresy has become a commonplace of orthodoxy, and your liberal
theory of education and life is now one of the marks of fashionable
conservatism."
My Uncle Peter's face assumed the beatific expression of a man who
knows that he has been completely and inexcusably misunderstood, and is
therefore justified in taking as much time as he wants to make the
subtlety and superiority of his ideas perfectly clear and to show how
dense you have been in failing to apprehend them.
"My dear boy," said he, "it is very singular that you should miss my
point so entirely. All these things that you have been saying about
your modern schools illustrate precisely the opposite view from mine.
They are signs of that idolatry of organization, of system, of the
time-table and the schedule, which is making our modern life so tedious
and exhausting. Those unfortunate school-boys and school-girls who have
their amusements planned out for them and cultivate their social
instincts according to rule, never know the joy of a real day off,
unless they do as I say, and take it to themselves. The right kind of a
school will leave room and liberty for them to do this. It will be a
miniature of what life is for all of us,--a place where law reigns and
independence is rewarded,--a stream of work and duty diversified by
islands of freedom and repose,--a pilgrimage in which it is permitted
to follow a side-path, a mountain trail, a footway through the meadow,
provided the end of the journey is not forgotten and the day's march
brings one a little nearer to that end."
"But will it do that," I asked, "unless one is careful to follow the
straight line of the highway and march as fast as one can?"
"That depends," said my Uncle Peter, nodding his head gravely, "upon
what you consider the end of the journey. If it is something entirely
outside of yourself, a certain stint of work which you were created to
perform; or if it is something altogether beyond yourself, a certain
place or office at which you are aiming to arrive; then, of course, you
must stick to the highway and hurry along.
"But suppose that the real end of your journey is something of which
you yourself are a part. Suppose it is not merely to get to a certain
place, but to get there in a certain condition, with the light of a
sane joy in your eyes and the peace of a grateful content in your
heart. Suppose it is not merely to do a certain piece of work, but to
do it in a certain spirit, cheerfully and bravely and modestly, without
overrating its importance or overlooking its necessity. Then, I fancy,
you may find that the winding foot-path among the hills often helps you
on your way as much as the high road, the day off among the islands of
repose gives you a steadier hand and a braver heart to make your voyage
along the stream of duty."
"You may skip the moralizing, if you please, Uncle Peter," said I, "and
concentrate your mind upon giving me a reasonable account of the
peculiar happiness of what you call a day off."
"Nothing could be simpler," he answered. "It is the joy of getting out
of the harness that makes a horse fling up his heels, and gallop around
the field, and roll over and over in the grass, when he is turned loose
in the pasture. It is the impulse of pure play that makes a little
bunch of wild ducks chase one another round and round on the water, and
follow their leader in circles and figures of eight; there is no
possible use in it, but it gratifies their instinct of freedom and
makes them feel that they are not mere animal automata, whatever the
natural history men may say to the contrary. It is the sense of release
that a man experiences when he unbuckles the straps of his knapsack,
and lays it down under a tree, and says 'You stay there till I come
back for you! I'm going to rest myself by climbing this hill, just
because it is not on the road-map, and because there is nothing at the
top of it except the view.'
"It is this feeling of escape," he continued, in the tone of a man who
has shaken off the harness of polite conversation and let himself go
for a gallop around the field of monologue, "it is just this
exhilarating sense of liberation that is lacking in most of our social
amusements and recreations. They are dictated by fashion and directed
by routine. Men get into the so-called 'round of pleasure,' and they
are driven into a trot to keep up with it, just as if it were a
treadmill. The only difference is that the pleasure-mill grinds no
corn. Harry Bellairs was complaining to me, the other day, that after
an exhausting season of cotillons in New York, he had been running his
motor-car through immense fatigues in France and Italy, and had
returned barely in time to do his duty by his salmon-river in Canada,
work his new boat through the annual cruise of the yacht club, finish
up a round of house-parties at Bar Harbor and Lenox, and get ready for
the partridge-shooting in England with his friend the Duke of
Bangham,--it was a dog's life, he said, and he had no time to himself
at all. I rather pitied him; he looked so frayed. It seems to me that
the best way for a man or a woman of pleasure to get a day off would be
to do a little honest work.
"You see it is the change that makes the charm of a day off. The real
joy of leisure is known only to the people who have contracted the
habit of work without becoming enslaved to the vice of overwork.
"A hobby is the best thing in the world for a man with a serious
vocation. It keeps him from getting muscle-bound in his own task. It
helps to save him from the mistake of supposing that it is his little
tick-tack that keeps the universe a-going. It leads him out, on off
days, away from his own garden corner into curious and interesting
regions of this wide and various earth, of which, after all, he is a
citizen.
"Do you happen to know the Reverend Doctor McHook? He is a learned
preacher, a devoted churchman, a faithful minister; and in addition to
this he has an extra-parochial affection for ants and spiders. He can
spend a happy day in watching the busy affairs of a formicary, and to
observe the progress of a bit of spider-web architecture gives him a
peculiar joy. There are some severe and sour-complexioned theologians
who would call this devotion to objects so far outside of his parish an
illicit passion. But to me it seems a blessing conferred by heavenly
wisdom upon a good man, and I doubt not he escapes from many an
insoluble theological puzzle, and perhaps from many an unprofitable
religious wrangle, to find refreshment and invigoration in the society
of his many-legged friends."
"You are moralizing again, Uncle Peter," I objected; "or at least you
are getting ready to do so. Stop it; and give me a working definition
of the difference between a hobby and a fad."
"Let me give you an anecdote," said he, "instead of a definition. There
was a friend of mine who went to visit a famous asylum for the insane.
Among the patients who were amusing themselves in the great hall, he
saw an old gentleman with a long white beard, who was sitting astride
of a chair, spurring its legs with his heels, holding both ends of his
handkerchief which he had knotted around the back, and crying 'Get up,
get up! G'long boy, steady!' with the utmost animation. 'You seem to be
having a fine ride, sir,' said my friend. 'Capital,' said the old
gentleman, 'this is a first-rate mount that I am riding.' 'Permit me to
inquire,' asked my friend, 'whether it is a fad or a hobby?' 'Why,
certainly!' replied the old gentleman, with a quizzical look. 'It is a
hobby, you see, for I can get off whenever I have a mind to.' And with
that he dismounted and walked into the garden.
"It is just this liberty of getting off that marks the superiority of a
hobby to a fad. The game that you feel obliged to play every day at the
same hour ceases to amuse you as soon as you realize that it is a
diurnal duty. Regular exercise is good for the muscles, but there must
be a bit of pure fun mixed with the sport that is to refresh your
heart.
"A tour in Europe, carefully mapped out with an elaborate itinerary and
a carefully connected timetable, may be full of instruction, but it
often becomes a tax upon the spirit and a weariness to the flesh.
Compulsory castles and mandatory museums and required ruins pall upon
you, as you hurry from one to another, vaguely agitated by the fear
that you may miss something that is marked with a star in the
guide-book, and so be compelled to confess to your neighbour at the
_table-d'hote_ that you have failed to see what he promptly and
joyfully assures you is 'the best thing in the whole trip,' Delicate
and sensitive people have been killed by taking a vacation in that way.
"I remember meeting, several years ago, a party of personally conducted
tourists in Venice, at the hour which their itinerary consecrated to
the enjoyment of the fine arts in the gallery of the Academy. Their
personal conductor led them into one of the great rooms, and they
gathered close around him, with an air of determination on their tired
faces, listening to his brief, dry patter about the famous pictures
that the room contained. He stood in the centre of the room holding his
watch in his hand while they dispersed themselves around the walls,
looking for the paintings which they ought to see, like chickens
searching for scattered grains of corn. At the expiration of five
minutes he clapped his hands sharply; his flock scurried back to him;
and they moved on to 'do' the next room.
"I suppose that was one way of seeing Venice: but I would much rather
sit at a little table on the _Riva degli Schiavoni_, with a plate of
bread and cheese and a _mezzo_ of Chianti before me, watching the
motley crowd in the street and the many- sails in the harbour;
or spend a lazy afternoon in a gondola, floating through watery
alley-ways that lead nowhere, and under the facades of beautiful
palaces whose names I did not even care to know. Of course I should
like to see a fine picture or a noble church, now and then; but only
one at a time, if you please; and that one I should wish to look at as
long as it said anything to me, and to revisit as often as it called
me."
"That is because you have no idea of the educational uses of a
vacation, Uncle Peter," said I. "You are an unsystematic person, an
incorrigible idler."
"I am," he answered, without a sign of penitence, "that is precisely
what I am,--in my days off. Otherwise I should not get the good of
them. Even a hobby, on such days, is to be used chiefly for its lateral
advantages,--the open doors of the sideshows to which it brings you,
the unexpected opportunities of dismounting and tying your hobby to a
tree, while you follow the trail of something strange and attractive,
as Moses did when he turned aside from his shepherding on Mount Horeb
and climbed up among the rocks to see the burning bush.
"The value of a favourite pursuit lies not only in its calculated
results but also in its by-products. You may become a collector of
almost anything in the world,--orchids, postage-stamps, flint
arrowheads, cook-books, varieties of the game of cat's cradle,--and if
you chase your trifle in the right spirit it will lead you into pleasant
surprises and bring you acquainted with delightful or amusing people.
You remember when you went with Professor Rinascimento on a Della Robbia
hunt among the hill towns of Italy, and how you came by accident into
that deep green valley where there are more nightingales with sweeter
voices than anywhere else on earth? Your best _trouvaille_ on that
expedition was hidden in those undreamed-of nights of moonlight and
music. And it was when you were chasing first editions of Tennyson, was
it not, that you discovered your little head of a marble faun, which you
vow is by Donatello, or one of his pupils? And what was it that you told
me about the rare friend you found when you took a couple of days off in
an ancient French town, on a flying journey from Rome to London? Believe
me, dear boy, all that we win by effort and intention is sometimes
overtopped by a gift that is conferred upon us out of a secret and
mysterious generosity. Wordsworth was right:
"'Think you,'mid all this mighty sum
Of things forever speaking,
That nothing of itself will come,
But we must still be seeking?'"
"You talk," said I, "as if you thought it was a man's duty to be
happy."
"I do," he answered firmly, "that is precisely and definitely what I
think. It is not his chief duty, nor his only duty, nor his duty all
the time. But the normal man is not intended to go through this world
without learning what happiness means. If he does so he misses
something that he needs to complete his nature and perfect his
experience. 'Tis a poor, frail plant that can not endure the wind and
the rain and the winter's cold. But is it a good plant that will not
respond to the quickening touch of spring and send out its sweet odours
in the embracing warmth of the summer night? Suppose that you had made
a house for a child, and given him a corner of the garden to keep, and
set him lessons and tasks, and provided him with teachers and masters.
Would you be satisfied with that child, however diligent and obedient,
if you found that he was never happy, never enjoyed a holiday, never
said to himself and to you, 'What a good place this is, and how glad I
am to live here'?"
"Probably not," I answered, "but that is because I should be selfish
enough to find a pleasure of my own in his happiness. I should like to
take a day off with him, now and then, and his gladness would increase
my enjoyment. There is no morality in that. It is simply natural. We
are all made that way."
"Well," said my Uncle Peter, "if we are made that way we must take it
into account in our philosophy of life. The fact that it is natural is
not a sufficient reason for concluding that it is bad. There is an old
and wonderful book which describes the creation of the world in poetic
language; and when I read that description it makes me feel sure that
something like this was purposely woven into the very web of life.
After the six mystical days of making things and putting things in
order, says this beautiful old book, the Person who had been doing it
all took a day to Himself, in which He'rested from all the things that
He had created and made,' and looked at them, and saw how good they
were. His work was not ended, of course, for it has been going on ever
since, and will go on for ages of ages. But in the midst of it all it
seemed right to Him to take a divine day off. And His example is
commended to us for imitation because we are made in His likeness and
have the same desire to enjoy as well as to create.
"Do you remember what the Wisest of all Masters said to his disciples
when they were outworn by the weight of their work and the pressure of
the crowd upon them? 'Come ye yourselves apart into a lonely place, and
rest awhile.' He would never have bidden them do that, unless it had
been a part of their duty to get away from their task for a little. He
knew what was in man, more deeply than any one else had ever known; and
so he invited his friends out among the green hills and beside the
quiet waters of Galilee to the strengthening repose and the restoring
joy which are only to be found in real days off."
My Uncle Peter's voice had grown very deep and gentle while he was
saying these things. He sat looking far away into the rosy heart of the
fire, where the bright blaze had burned itself out, and the delicate
flamelets of blue and violet were playing over the glowing, crumbling
logs. It seemed as if he had forgotten where we were, and gone
a-wandering into some distant region of memories and dreams. I almost
doubted whether to call him back; the silence was so full of
comfortable and friendly intercourse.
"Well," said I, after a while, "you are an incorrigible moralist, but
certainly a most unconventional one. The orthodox would never accept
your philosophy. They would call you a hedonist, or something equally
dreadful."
"Let them," he said, placidly.
"But tell me": I asked, "you and I have many pleasant and grateful
memories, little pictures and stories, which seem like chapters in the
history of this doubtful idea of yours: suppose that I should write
some of them down, purely in a descriptive and narrative way, without
committing myself to any opinion as to their morality; and suppose that
a few of your opinions and prejudices, briefly expressed, were
interspersed in the form of chapters to be skipped: would a book like
that symbolize and illustrate the true inwardness of the day off? How
would it do to make such a book?"
"It would do," he answered, "provided you wanted to do it, and provided
you did not try to prove anything, or convince anybody, or convey any
profitable instruction."
"But would any one read it?" I asked. "What do you think?"
"I think," said he, stretching his arms over his head as he rose and
turned towards his den to plunge into a long evening's work, "I reckon,
and calculate, and fancy, and guess that a few people, a very few,
might browse through such a book in their days off."
A HOLIDAY IN A VACATION
It was really a good little summer resort where the boy and I were
pegging away at our vacation. There were the mountains conveniently
arranged, with pleasant trails running up all of them, carefully marked
with rustic but legible guide-posts; and there was the sea comfortably
besprinkled with islands, among which one might sail around and about,
day after day, not to go anywhere, but just to enjoy the motion and the
views; and there were cod and haddock swimming over the outer ledges in
deep water, waiting to be fed with clams at any time, and on fortunate
days ridiculously accommodating in letting themselves be pulled up at
the end of a long, thick string with a pound of lead and two hooks tied
to it. There were plenty of places considered proper for picnics, like
Jordan's Pond, and Great Cranberry Island, and the Russian Tea-house,
and the Log Cabin Tea-house, where you would be sure to meet other
people who also were bent on picnicking; and there were hotels and
summer cottages, of various degrees of elaboration, filled with
agreeable and talkable folk, most of whom were connected by occupation
or marriage with the rival colleges and universities, so that their
ambitions for the simple life had an academic thoroughness and
regularity. There were dinner parties, and tea parties, and garden
parties, and sea parties, and luncheon parties, masculine and feminine,
and a horse-show at Bar Harbor, and a gymkhana at North East, and
dances at all the Harbors, where Minerva met Terpischore on a friendly
footing while Socrates sat out on the veranda with Midas discussing the
great automobile question over their cigars.
It was all vastly entertaining and well-ordered, and you would think
that any person with a properly constituted mind ought to be able to
peg through a vacation in such a place without wavering. But when the
boy confessed to me that he felt the need of a few "days off" in the
big woods to keep him up to his duty, I saw at once that the money
spent upon his education had not been wasted; for here, without effort,
he announced a great psychological fact--_that no vacation is perfect
without a | 1,740.156627 |
2023-11-16 18:46:04.1636800 | 2,022 | 16 |
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(TIA) and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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THE WOLF-CUB
_A NOVEL OF SPAIN_
BY PATRICK and TERENCE CASEY
_WITH FRONTISPIECE BY
H. WESTON TAYLOR_
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY
1918
_Copyright, 1918_,
BY PATRICK AND TERENCE CASEY
_All rights reserved_
Published, January, 1918
[Illustration: "It is my officer, my parent!" whispered the young
policeman]
THE WOLF-CUB
CHAPTER I
When Jacinto Quesada was yet a very little Spaniard, his father kissed
him upon both cheeks and upon the brow, and went away on an enterprise
of forlorn desperation.
On a great rock at the brink of the village Jacinto Quesada stood with
his weeping mother, and together they watched the somber-faced
mountaineer hurry down the mountainside. He was bound for that hot,
sandy No Man's Land which lies between the British outpost, Gibraltar,
and sunburned, haggard, tragic Spain. The two dogs, Pepe and Lenchito,
went with him. They were pointers, retrievers. For months they had been
trained in the work they were to do. In all Spain there were no more
likely dogs for smuggling contraband.
The village, where Jacinto Quesada lived with his peasant mother, was
but a short way below the snow-line in the wild Sierra Nevada. Behind it
the Picacho de la Veleta lifted its craggy head; off to the northeast
bulked snowy old "Muley Hassan" Cerro de Mulhacen, the highest peak of
the peninsula; and all about were the bleak spires of lesser mountains,
boulder-strewn defiles, moaning dark gorges. The village was called
Minas de la Sierra.
The mother took the little Jacinto by the hand and led him to the
village chapel. She knelt before the dingy altar a long time. Then she
lit a blessed candle and prayed again. And then she handed the wick
dipped in oil to Jacinto and said:
"Light a candle for thy father, tiny one."
"But why should I light a candle for our Juanito, _mamacita_?"
"It is that Our Lady of the Sorrows and the Great Pity will not let him
be killed by the men of the _Guardia Civil_!"
"Men do not kill unless they hate. Do the men of the Guardia Civil hate,
then, the _pobre padre_ of me and the sweet husband of thee,
_mamacita_?"
"It is not the hate, child! The men of the Guardia Civil kill any
breaker of the laws they discover guilty-handed. It is the way they keep
the peace of Spain."
"But our Juanito is not a lawbreaker, little mother. He is no _lagarto_,
no lizard, no sly tricky one. He is an honest man."
"Hush, _nino_! There are no honest men left in Spain. They all have
starved to death. Thy father has become a _contrabandista_ And if it be
the will of the good God, and if Pepe and Lenchito be shrewd to skulk
through the shadows of night and swift to run past the policemen on
watch, we will have sausages and _garbanzos_ to eat, and those little
legs of thine will not be the puny reeds they are now. _Ojala!_ they
will be round and pudgy with fat!"
The men of Minas de la Sierra were all woodchoppers and
_manzanilleros_--gatherers of the white-flowered _manzanilla_. Their
fathers had been woodchoppers and manzanilleros before them. But too
persistently and too long, altogether too long, had the trees been cut
down and the manzanilla harvested. The mountains had grown sterile,
barren, bald. Not so many cords of Spanish pine were sledded down the
mountain <DW72>s as on a time; not so many men burdened beneath great
loads of manzanilla went down into the city of Granada to sell in the
market place that which was worth good silver pesetas.
There are no deer in the Sierra Nevada--neither red, fallow, nor roe.
There are no wild boar. There is only the Spanish ibex. And what poor
_serrano_ can provision his good wife and his _cabana_ full of lusty
brats by hunting the Spanish ibex? He has but one weapon--the ancient
muzzle-loading smooth-bore. And the ibex speeds like a chill glacial
wind across the snow fields and craggy solitudes, and only a man armed
with a cordite repeater can hope to bring him down.
Soon descended the mountains only men who had turned their backs upon
Minas de la Sierra and who thought to leave behind forever the bleak
peaks and the wind-swept gorges and the implacable hunger. Out of every
ten only one crawled back, beaten and bruised by the savage Spanish
cities and the savage Spanish plains. With those of Minas de la Sierra
who could not tear themselves away from their native rocks, these
broken-hearted ones continued on and with them slowly starved.
It was not the will of the good God that Jacinto Quesada should have fat
pudgy legs by reason of his father's endeavors. Shrewd were the dogs,
Pepe and Lenchito, but they were not so shrewd as were the Spanish
police. Came a pale and stuttering _arriero_, a muleteer, up to the
village one day. To Jacinto Quesada's mother he brought tragic news.
The men of the Guardia Civil had discovered poor Juanito as he was
unbuckling a packet of Cuban cigars from the throat of the dog Lenchito;
they had walked him out behind a sand dune; they had made him dig a
grave. Then they had shot down Lenchito; then they had shot down Juan
Quesada. And then the dog and the man were kicked together into the one
grave and sand piled on top of them both.
But make no mistake, _mi senor caballero_ reader! The men of the Guardia
Civil are not abominations of cruelty. They are not monsters, brutal and
depraved. _Quita!_ no.
There are twenty-five thousand men in the Guardia Civil; twenty thousand
foot and five thousand cavalry. By twos, eternally by twos, they go
through Spain, exterminating crime wherever crime shows its fanged and
evil head.
Every Spaniard is potentially a criminal. An empty belly goads him into
lawlessness; his very nature greases his wayward feet. The Spaniard is
by nature sullen, irascible, insolently independent, lawless. He is more
African than European. Prick a Spaniard and a vindictive Moor bleeds.
Then, whether it be his famishing hunger or lawless passion which has
caused him to rise above the law, the Spaniard, his crime writ in red,
flees from the police. Spain is a country of uncouth wilds. There are
the desolate high steppes and the savage mountains; there are the tawny
_despoblados_, which are uninhabitated wastes; there are the _marismas_,
which are labyrinthine everglades where whole regiments may lie
concealed.
But also, in Spain, there are railroads and telegraphs, and a most
efficient constabulary, the Guardia Civil. And, were it not for
_Caciquismo_, all evil-doers would be speedily apprehended by the
Guardia Civil, tried under the _alcaldes_, and incarcerated in the
Carcel de la Corte or the Presidio of Ceuta.
Caciquismo is not a tangible thing. It is a secret and sinister
influence. It is not the Tammany of New York; it is not the Camorra of
Naples. Yet it resembles both these corrupt edifices in its special
Spanish way. Its instruments are prime ministers and muleteers, members
of the _cortes_ and bullfighters, hidalgos and low-caste Gitanos.
A _cacique_ may be only the mayor of a tiny hamlet; again, he may be
privy councilor to the king. Yet high or low, he is but one of the many
tentacles of a gigantic octopus which lays its clammy shadow athwart the
land.
It is well known that Tammany, for reasons political or otherwise,
protected criminals. Well, even as did Tammany, so does Caciquismo. A
Spanish criminal may be captured, tried before a magistrate and all; but
if he be one in good standing with the caciques, never is he sent to the
Carcel de la Corte or Ceuta. The invisible eight arms of the gigantic
octopus uncoil and reach | 1,740.18372 |
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material from the Google Print project.)
CHAMBERS'S ELEMENTARY SCIENCE MANUALS.
GEOLOGY
BY
JAMES GEIKIE, LL.D., F.R.S.
OF H.M. GEOLOGICAL SURVEY; AUTHOR OF
'THE GREAT ICE AGE.'
[Logo]
W. & R. CHAMBERS
LONDON AND EDINBURGH
1883
Edinburgh:
Printed by W. and R. Chambers.
PREFACE.
The vital importance of diffusing some knowledge of the leading
principles of Science among all classes of society, is becoming daily
more widely and deeply felt; and to meet and promote this important
movement, W. & R. CHAMBERS have resolved on issuing the present Series | 1,740.218811 |
2023-11-16 18:46:04.2341930 | 1,042 | 32 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Robin Curnow and the Online
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Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
* * * * *
[Illustration: cover]
THE
SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON.
[Illustration:
DRAWN BY G. H. THOMAS. ENGRAVED BY W. L. THOMAS.
THE OLD SHEPHERD.
Vol. i. page 2.]
[Illustration:
the
Sheepfold
and the
Common
OR
WITHIN & WITHOUT.
Blackie & Son Glasgow Edinburgh and London.]
THE
SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON:
OR,
WITHIN AND WITHOUT.
VOL. I.
"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow
me."--JOHN x. 27.
"Them that are without God judgeth."--1 COR. v. 13.
[Illustration: logo]
BLACKIE AND SON:
GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, LONDON, AND NEW YORK.
MDCCCLXI.
GLASGOW:
W. G. BLACKIE AND CO., PRINTERS,
VILLAFIELD.
PREFACE.
This Work was originally published, above thirty years ago,
under the title of the _Evangelical Rambler_. It has long been
out of print; and its republication at the present time has been
recommended, as calculated to assist in arresting the progress
of some popular errors and dangerous institutions, and in aiding
the advancement of truth and social happiness. This opinion was
strengthened by a knowledge of the fact, that, according to the most
accurate calculations, from sixty thousand to a hundred thousand
copies of the Work, under its original title, were issued from the
English press, whilst in America it obtained an equally extended
circulation; and from the still more important fact of the Author
having received, from a large number of persons, assurances, both by
letter and personal interviews, of their having derived their first
religious impressions and convictions from perusing its pages. A new
and thoroughly-revised Edition is, therefore, now issued, under the
title of "THE SHEEPFOLD AND THE COMMON," as being more descriptive
of the aim and intention of the Work than its former name.
The object of the Work is to afford instruction and amusement,
conveyed by a simple narration of the events of every-day life. In
constructing his story, the Author has availed himself occasionally
of the conceptions of his fancy, and at other times he has crowded
into a narrow compass facts and incidents culled from an extended
period of his history; but reality forms the basis of every
narrative and of every scene he has described. He has departed
from the common-place habit of presenting the grand truths of the
Christian faith in didactic and dogmatic statements, preferring the
dramatic form, as more likely to arrest the attention and interest
the feelings, especially of the youthful and imaginative portion
of the community. In adopting this style of composition, he has
thus endeavoured to follow the footsteps of the great Prophet of
Israel, who often spake in parables, veiling truth in a beauteous
external vehicle, to captivate and teach his hearers, while their
prejudices were lying dormant. In no book of human authorship can we
find specimens of imaginative composition that will compare with the
following examples from the New Testament, which the Author quotes,
in illustration and defence of the principle on which his Work is
based.
On no occasion during the ministry of Jesus Christ are we so
thoroughly convinced of the fatal danger of trusting in our own
attainments and doings for our salvation, and of the absolute
safety of reposing exclusive confidence in Him for this inestimable
blessing, as when he places us in imagination on the shore, after
the desolating storm has completed its work of destruction, leaving
us to gaze on the ruins of the one house erected on the sand; while
we see the other remaining secure on the unmoved and unshaken rock,
in stern and tranquil defiance of all tempests and hurricanes. _See_
Matt. vii. 24-28.
We have more definite and more vivid impressions of the invisible
world--of the calm repose and fraternal fellowship of the saved, and
of the privations and anguish of the lost, when reading our Lord's
description of the condition of Lazarus and the rich man, than is
produced on our minds by his announcement of the issue of the day | 1,740.254233 |
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Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original map.
See 48334-h.htm or 48334-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/48334/48334-h/48334-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/48334/48334-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/irelandundertudo02bagwiala
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS
VOL. II.
Printed by
Spottiswoode and Co., New-Street Square
London
IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS
With a Succinct Account of the Earlier History
by
RICHARD BAGWELL, M.A.
In Two Volumes
VOL. II.
London
Longmans, Green, and Co.
1885
All rights reserved
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAPTER XIX.
FROM THE ACCESSION OF ELIZABETH TO THE YEAR 1561.
PAGE
The Protestants rejoice at Elizabeth's accession 1
Dispute as to the O'Neill succession 2
Sussex Lord Deputy--the Protestant ritual restored 5
Parliament of 1560--the royal supremacy 6
Expectations of a Catholic rising 7
Attitude of France, Spain, and Scotland 8
Clearsightedness of Elizabeth 10
Desmond, Ormonde, and O'Neill 10
Reform of the coinage 12
Fitzwilliam Lord Deputy 14
Claims and intrigues of Shane O'Neill 15
Conciliatory attitude of the Queen 19
Shane O'Neill supreme in Ulster 21
CHAPTER XX.
1561 AND 1562.
Sussex completely fails in Ulster 23
He plots against Shane O'Neill's life 27
A truce with Shane 30
Who goes to England 32
Shane O'Neill at Court 33
The Baron of Dungannon murdered 38
Shane in London--he returns to Ireland 40
Desmond and Ormonde 41
Official corruption 43
CHAPTER XXI.
1561-1564.
Grievances of the Pale 46
Desmond and the Queen 48
Projects of Sussex 49
Elizabeth attends to the Pale 50
Shane O'Neill professes loyalty 51
Shane oppresses O'Donnell and his other neighbours 52
Sir Nicholas Arnold 57
Failure of Sussex 58
He attempts to poison Shane 64
Royal Commission on the Pale 65
Desmond and Ormonde 66
CHAPTER XXII.
1564 AND 1565.
Great abuses in the Pale 68
Extreme harshness of Arnold 73
Shane O'Neill in his glory 74
Shane's ill-treatment of O'Donnell 76
Shane and the Scots 79
Nothing so dangerous as loyalty 80
CHAPTER XXIII.
1565.
Desmond, Thomond, and Clanricarde 82
Ormonde will abolish coyne and livery 83
Private war between Desmond and Ormonde 85
Shane O'Neill and the Scots 89
Supremacy of Shane 90
Sidney advises his suppression 91
Desmond and Ormonde--Sidney and Sussex 92
Ireland is handed over to Sidney 94
Failure of Arnold 98
CHAPTER XXIV.
1566 AND 1567.
Sidney prepares to suppress Shane 102
Who thinks an earldom beneath his notice 103
The Sussex and Leicester factions 105
Mission of Sir F. Knollys 105
The Queen still hesitates 106
Shane's last outrages 107
Randolph's expedition reaches Lough Foyle 108
Sidney easily overruns Ulster 109
Randolph at Derry 110
Sidney in Munster--great disorder 111
Tipperary and Waterford 112
Horrible destitution in Cork 113
Sidney's progress in the West 114
Failure of the Derry settlement 115
Defeat and death of Shane O'Neill 117
His character 118
Sidney and the Queen 120
Sidney and Ormonde 121
Butlers and Geraldines 122
The Queen's debts 123
CHAPTER XXV.
1567 AND 1568.
Sidney in England--Desmond and Ormonde 124
Cecil's plans for Ireland 126
The Scots in Ulster 127
Massacre at Mullaghmast 130
The Desmonds--James Fitzmaurice 131
Starving soldiers 132
Miserable state of the North 133
Abuses in the public service 134
Desmond in London--charges against him 134
Charges against Kildare 138
Sir Peter Carew and his territorial claims 139
He recovers Idrone from the possessors 144
James Fitzmaurice's rebellion 145
The 'Butlers' war' 146
CHAPTER XXVI.
1568-1570.
Sidney's plans for Ulster 149
Fitzmaurice and the Butlers 150
Parliament of 1569--the Opposition 152
The Bishops oppose national education 155
Fitzmaurice, the Butlers, and Carew 156
Atrocities on both sides 161
Sinister rumours 161
Ormonde pacifies the South-East 162
Sidney and the Tipperary gentlemen 163
Sidney's march from Clonmel to Cork and Limerick 164
The Butlers submit 166
Humphrey Gilbert in Munster 167
Fitzmaurice hard pressed 168
Ulster quiet 169
CHAPTER XXVII.
1570 AND 1571.
The Presidency of Connaught--Sir Edward Fitton 170
Services of Ormonde 171
Thomond in France--diplomacy 172
Session of 1570--attainders and pardons 174
First attempt at national education 176
Commerce--monopolies--Dutch weavers 177
The Presidency of Munster--Sir John Perrott 179
Fitton fails in Connaught 182
Tremayne's report on Ireland 184
Ormonde in Kerry--services of the Butlers 184
Perrott's services in Munster 186
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FOREIGN INTRIGUES.
Fitzmaurice proposes a religious war 190
Catholics at Louvain--suspicious foreigners 190
Archbishop Fitzgibbon and David Wolfe 192
Fitzgibbon's own story 193
Philip II. hesitates 196
Thomas Stukeley 196
English and Irish parties in Spain 199
Ideas of Philip II. 201
Fitzgibbon, Stukeley, and Pius V | 1,740.330617 |
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MR. GLADSTONE AND GENESIS
ESSAY #5 FROM "SCIENCE AND HEBREW TRADITION"
By Thomas Henry Huxley
In controversy, as in courtship, the good old rule to be off with the
old before one is on with the new, greatly commends itself to my sense
of expediency. And, therefore, it appears to me desirable that I should
preface such observations as I may have to offer upon the cloud of
arguments (the relevancy of which to the issue which I had ventured | 1,740.454655 |
2023-11-16 18:46:04.5738900 | 204 | 18 |
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http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian
Libraries)
Barbara Weinstock Lectures on The Morals of Trade
SOCIAL JUSTICE WITHOUT SOCIALISM.
By John Bates Clark.
THE CONFLICT BETWEEN PRIVATE MONOPOLY AND GOOD CITIZENSHIP.
By John Graham Brooks.
COMMERCIALISM AND JOURNALISM.
By Hamilton Holt.
THE BUSINESS CAREER IN ITS PUBLIC RELATIONS.
By Albert Shaw.
SOCIAL JUSTICE WITHOUT SOCIALISM
BY
JOHN BATES CLARK
PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL ECONOMY AT
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1914
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY THE REGENTS OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_P | 1,740.59393 |
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E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
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(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
More: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/lifeofrobertburn00carl
LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS.
Mostly by
THOMAS CARLYLE.
New York:
Delisser & Procter, 508 Broadway.
1859.
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
The readers of the "Household Library" will certainly welcome a Life of
Burns. That his soul was of the real heroic stamp, no one who is familiar
with his imperishable lyric poetry, will deny.
This Life of the great Scottish bard is composed of two parts. The first
part, which is brief, and gives merely his external life, is taken from
the "Encyclopedia Britannica." The principle object of it, in this place,
is to prepare the reader for what follows. The second part is a grand
spiritual portrait of Burns, the like of which the ages have scarcely
produced; the equal of which, in our opinion, does not exist. In fact,
since men began to write and publish their thoughts in this world, no one
has appeared who equals Carlyle as a spiritual-portrait painter; and,
taken all in all, this of his gifted countryman Burns is his master-piece.
I should not dare to say how many times I have perused it, and always with
new wonder and delight. I once read it in the Manfrini Palace, at Venice,
sitting before Titian's portrait of Ariosto. Great is the contrast between
the Songs of Burns and the _Rime_ of the Italian poet, between the fine
spiritual perception of Carlyle's mind and the delicate touch of Titian's
hand, between picturesque expression and an expressive picture; yet this
very antithesis seemed to prepare my mind for the full enjoyment of both
these famous portraits; the sombre majesty of northern genius seemed to
heighten and be heightened by the sunset glow of the genius of the south.
Besides giving the article from the "Encyclopedia Britannica," as a kind
of frame for the portrait of Burns, we will here add, from the "English
Cyclopedia," a sketch of Carlyle's life. A severe taste may find it a
little out of place, yet we must be allowed to consult the wishes of those
for whom these little volumes are designed.
* * * * *
Carlyle, (Thomas,) a thinker and writer, confessedly among the most
original and influential that Britain has produced, was born in the parish
of Middlebie, near the village of Ecclefechan, in Dumfries-shire,
Scotland, on the 4th of December, 1795. His father, a man of remarkable
force of character, was a small farmer in comfortable circumstances; his
mother was also no ordinary person. The eldest son of a considerable
family, he received an education the best in its kind that Scotland could
then afford--the education of a pious and industrious home, supplemented
by that of school and college. (Another son of the family, Dr. John A.
Carlyle, a younger brother of Thomas, was educated in a similar manner,
and, after practising for many years as a physician in Germany and | 1,740.598214 |
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UTOPIA OF USURERS AND OTHER ESSAYS
By Gilbert Keith Chesterton
CONTENTS
A Song of Swords
Utopia of Usurers
I. Art and Advertisement
II. Letters and the New Laureates
III. Unbusinesslike Business
IV. The War on Holidays
V. The Church of the Servile State
VI. Science and the Eugenists
VII. The Evolution of the Prison
VIII. The Lash for Labour
IX. The Mask of Socialism
The Escape
The New Raid
The New Name
A Workman's History of England
The French Revolution and the Irish
Liberalism: A Sample
The Fatigue of Fleet Street
The Amnesty for Aggression
Revive the Court Jester
The Art of Missing the Point
The Servile State Again
The Empire of the Ignorant
The Symbolism of Krupp
The Tower of Bebel
A Real Danger
The Dregs of Puritanism
The Tyranny of Bad Journalism
The Poetry of the Revolution
A SONG OF SWORDS
"A drove of cattle came into a village called Swords;
and was stopped by the rioters."--Daily Paper.
In the place called Swords on the Irish road
It is told for a new renown
How we held the horns of the cattle, and how
We will hold the horns of the devils now
Ere the lord of hell with the horn on his brow
Is crowned in Dublin town.
Light in the East and light in the West,
And light on the cruel lords,
On the souls that suddenly all men knew,
And the green flag flew and the red flag flew,
And many a wheel of the world stopped, too,
When the cattle were stopped at Swords.
Be they sinners or less than saints
That smite in the street for rage,
We know where the shame shines bright; we know
You that they smite at, you their foe,
Lords of the lawless wage and low,
This is your lawful wage.
You pinched a child to a torture price
That you dared not name in words;
So black a jest was the silver bit
That your own speech shook for the shame of it,
And the coward was plain as a cow they hit
When the cattle have strayed at Swords.
The wheel of the torrent of wives went round
To break men's brotherhood;
You gave the good Irish blood to grease
The clubs of your country's enemies;
you saw the brave man beat to the knees:
And you saw that it was good.
The rope of the rich is long and long--
The longest of hangmen's cords;
But the kings and crowds are holding their breath,
In a giant shadow o'er all beneath
Where God stands holding the scales of Death
Between the cattle and Swords.
Haply the lords that hire and lend
The lowest of all men's lords,
Who sell their kind like kine at a fair,
Will find no head of their cattle there;
But faces of men where cattle were:
Faces of men--and Swords.
UTOPIA OF USURERS
I. Art and Advertisement
I propose, subject to the patience of the reader, to devote two or
three articles to prophecy. Like all healthy-minded prophets, sacred and
profane, I can only prophesy when I am in a rage and think things look
ugly for everybody. And like all healthy-minded prophets, I prophesy in
the hope that my prophecy may not come true. For the prediction made by
the true soothsayer is like the warning given by a good doctor. And the
doctor has really triumphed when the patient he condemned to death has
revived to life. The threat is justified at the very moment when it is
falsified. Now I have said again and again (and I shall continue to say
again and again on all the most inappropriate occasions) that we must
hit Capitalism, and hit it hard, for the plain and definite reason that
it is growing stronger. Most of the excuses which serve the capitalists
as masks are, of course, the excuses of hypocrites. They lie when they
claim philanthropy; they no more feel any particular love of men than
Albu felt an affection for Chinamen. They lie when they say they have
reached their position through their own organising ability. They
generally have to pay men to organise the mine, exactly as they pay
men to go down it. They often lie about the present wealth, as they
generally lie about their past poverty. But when they say that they
are going in for a "constructive social policy," they do not lie. They
really are going in for a constructive social policy. And we must go in
for an equally destructive social policy; and destroy, while it is still
half-constructed, the accursed thing which they construct.
The Example of the Arts
Now I propose to take, one after another, certain aspects and
departments of modern life, and describe what I think they will be like
in this paradise of plutocrats, this Utopia of gold and brass in which
the great story of England seems so likely to end. I propose to say what
I think our new masters, the mere millionaires, will do with certain
human interests and institutions, such as art, science, jurisprudence,
or religion--unless we strike soon enough to prevent them. And for the
sake of argument I will take in this article the example of the arts.
Most people have seen a picture called "Bubbles," which is used for the
advertisement of a celebrated soap, a small cake of which is introduced
into the pictorial design. And anybody with an instinct for design (the
caricaturist of the Daily Herald, for instance), will guess that it was
not originally a part of the design. He will see that the cake of soap
destroys the picture as a picture; as much as if the cake of soap had
been used to Scrub off the paint. Small as it is, it breaks and confuses
the whole balance of objects in the composition. I offer no judgment
here upon Millais's action in the matter; in fact, I do not know what
it was. The important point for me at the moment is that the picture
was not painted for the soap, but the soap added to the picture. And
the spirit of the corrupting change which has separated us from that
Victorian | 1,740.654212 |
2023-11-16 18:46:04.6826760 | 6,236 | 28 |
Produced by David Widger
THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER
BY
MARK TWAIN
(Samuel Langhorne Clemens)
Part 8
CHAPTER XXXII
TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St.
Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public
prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private
prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good
news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the
quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain
the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a
great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to
hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute
at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had
drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost
white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn.
Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village
bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad
people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're
found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed
itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open
carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its
homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring
huzzah after huzzah!
The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the
greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour
a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized
the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to
speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place.
Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It
would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with
the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay
upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of
the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it
withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on
an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his
kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of
the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off
speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it,
pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad
Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would
not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that
passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good
news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was
tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he
labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when
she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how
he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat
there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom
hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition;
how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they,
"you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in"
--then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them
rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home.
Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him
were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung
behind them, and informed of the great news.
Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be
shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were
bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and
more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on
Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday;
but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as
if she had passed through a wasting illness.
Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but
could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or
Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still
about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas
stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff
Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found
in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying
to escape, perhaps.
About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to
visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting
talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge
Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The
Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him
ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he
thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said:
"Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt.
But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any
more."
"Why?"
"Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago,
and triple-locked--and I've got the keys."
Tom turned as white as a sheet.
"What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!"
The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face.
"Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?"
"Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!"
CHAPTER XXXIII
WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of
men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well
filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that
bore Judge Thatcher.
When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in
the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground,
dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing
eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer
of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own
experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but
nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now,
which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated
before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day
he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast.
Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The
great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through,
with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock
formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had
wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if
there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been
useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could
not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had
only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass
the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily
one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices
of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The
prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to
catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their
claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at
hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages,
builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had
broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone,
wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop
that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a
clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop
was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the
foundations of Rome were laid when Christ was crucified; when the
Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the
massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be
falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of
history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the
thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did
this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for
this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object
to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and
many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch
the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that
pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the
wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of
the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it.
Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked
there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and
hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all
sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as
satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the
hanging.
This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to
the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely
signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a
committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail
around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample
his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five
citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself
there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names
to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently
impaired and leaky water-works.
The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have
an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the
Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned
there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he
wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said:
"I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but
whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben
you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you
hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and
told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always
told me we'd never get holt of that swag."
"Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern
was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you
was to watch there that night?"
"Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I
follered Injun Joe to the widder's."
"YOU followed him?"
"Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him,
and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it
hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right."
Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only
heard of the Welshman's part of it before.
"Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question,
"whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon
--anyways it's a goner for us, Tom."
"Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!"
"What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on
the track of that money again?"
"Huck, it's in the cave!"
Huck's eyes blazed.
"Say it again, Tom."
"The money's in the cave!"
"Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?"
"Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go
in there with me and help get it out?"
"I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not
get lost."
"Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the
world."
"Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--"
"Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll
agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I
will, by jings."
"All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?"
"Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?"
"Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days,
now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could."
"It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go,
Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me
know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the
skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You
needn't ever turn your hand over."
"Less start right off, Tom."
"All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little
bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these
new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's
the time I wished I had some when I was in there before."
A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who
was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles
below "Cave Hollow," Tom said:
"Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the
cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see
that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's
one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now."
They landed.
"Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out
of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it."
Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly
marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said:
"Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this
country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be
a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to
run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it
quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course
there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it.
Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?"
"Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?"
"Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way."
"And kill them?"
"No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom."
"What's a ransom?"
"Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and
after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them.
That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the
women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and
awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take
your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers
--you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and
after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and
after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd
turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books."
"Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate."
"Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and
circuses and all that."
By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom
in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel,
then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps
brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through
him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of
clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the
flame struggle and expire.
The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and
gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently
entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the
"jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not
really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet
high. Tom whispered:
"Now I'll show you something, Huck."
He held his candle aloft and said:
"Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on
the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke."
"Tom, it's a CROSS!"
"NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's
where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!"
Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice:
"Tom, less git out of here!"
"What! and leave the treasure?"
"Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain."
"No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he
died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here."
"No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways
of ghosts, and so do you."
Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his
mind. But presently an idea occurred to him--
"Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's
ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!"
The point was well taken. It had its effect.
"Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that
cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box."
Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended.
Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the
great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result.
They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with
a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some
bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there
was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in
vain. Tom said:
"He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the
cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on
the ground."
They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged.
Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said:
"Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the
clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now,
what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to
dig in the clay."
"That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation.
Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches
before he struck wood.
"Hey, Huck!--you hear that?"
Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and
removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock.
Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he
could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to
explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended
gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to
the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and
exclaimed:
"My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!"
It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern,
along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two
or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish
well soaked with the water-drip.
"Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with
his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!"
"Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe,
but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake
it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box."
It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward
fashion, but could not carry it conveniently.
"I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day
at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of
fetching the little bags along."
The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross
rock.
"Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck.
"No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we
go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our
orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies."
"What orgies?"
"I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to
have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's
getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we
get to the skiff."
They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily
out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the
skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got
under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting
cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark.
"Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the
widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it
and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it
where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till
I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute."
He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two
small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started
off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the
Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move
on, the Welshman stepped out and said:
"Hallo, who's that?"
"Huck and Tom Sawyer."
"Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting.
Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not
as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?"
"Old metal," said Tom.
"I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool
away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the
foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But
that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!"
The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about.
"Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'."
Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being
falsely accused:
"Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing."
The Welshman laughed.
"Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you
and the widow good friends?"
"Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway."
"All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?"
This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he
found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room.
Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed.
The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any
consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the
Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor,
and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow
received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such
looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt
Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head
at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr.
Jones said:
"Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and
Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry."
"And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys."
She took them to a bedchamber and said:
"Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes
--shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks,
Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you.
Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough."
Then she left.
CHAPTER XXXIV
HUCK said: "Tom, we can <DW72>, if we can find a rope. The window ain't
high from the ground."
"Shucks! what do you want to <DW72> for?"
"Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't
going down there, Tom."
"Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care
of you."
Sid appeared.
"Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon.
Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about
you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?"
"Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this
blow-out about, anyway?"
"It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time
it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they
helped her out of the other night. And say--I | 1,740.702716 |
2023-11-16 18:46:04.7355880 | 2,443 | 12 |
Produced by Emmy, MFR, Linda Cantoni, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive). This project is dedicated with
love to Emmy's memory.
PATRINS
_TO WHICH IS ADDED_
An INQUIRENDO Into the WIT &
Other Good Parts of HIS LATE MAJESTY
KING CHARLES the Second
_WRITTEN BY_
LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY
[Illustration: SICUT LILIUM INTER SPINAS]
_BOSTON_
Printed for _Copeland and Day_
_69 Cornhill_ 1897
COPYRIGHT 1897 BY COPELAND AND DAY
[Inscription: M.R.D., from her affectionate
old friend who wrote it. 1897]
TO BLISS CARMAN
A _patrin_, according to _Romano Lavo-Lil_, is "a Gypsy trail:
handfuls of leaves or grass cast by the Gypsies on the road, to
denote, to those behind, the way which they have taken." Well, these
wild dry whims are _patrins_ dropped now in the open for our tribe;
but particularly for you. They will greet you as you lazily come up,
and mean: Fare on, and good luck love you to the end! On each have I
put the date of its writing, as one might make memoranda of little
leisurely adventures in prolonged fair weather; and you will read, in
between and all along, a record of pleasant lonely paths never very
far from your own, biggest of Romanys! in the thought-country of our
common youth.
Ingraham Hill, South Thomaston, Maine,
October 19, 1896.
Contents
Page
On the Rabid _versus_ the Harmless Scholar 3
The Great Playground 13
On the Ethics of Descent 29
Some Impressions from the Tudor Exhibition 39
On the Delights of an Incognito 63
The Puppy: A Portrait 73
On Dying Considered as a Dramatic Situation 83
A Bitter Complaint of the Ungentle Reader 99
Animum non Coelum 109
The Precept of Peace 117
On a Pleasing Encounter with a Pickpocket 131
Reminiscences of a Fine Gentleman 139
Irish 153
An Open Letter to the Moon 169
The Under Dog 181
Quiet London 191
The Captives 205
On Teaching One's Grandmother How to Suck Eggs 223
Wilful Sadness in Literature 233
An Inquirendo into the Wit and Other Good Parts
of His Late Majesty, King Charles the Second 247
ON THE RABID _VERSUS_ THE HARMLESS SCHOLAR
A PHILOSOPHER now living, and too deserving for any fate but choice
private oblivion, was in Paris, for the first time, a dozen years
ago; and having seen and heard there, in the shops, parks, and
omnibus stations, much more baby than he found pleasing, he remarked,
upon his return, that it was a great pity the French, who are so in
love with system, had never seen their way to shutting up everything
under ten years of age! Now, that was the remark of an artist in
human affairs, and may provoke a number of analogies. What is in the
making is not a public spectacle. It ought to be considered very
outrageous, on the death of a painter or a poet, to exhibit those
rough first drafts, which he, living, had the acumen to conceal.
And if, to an impartial eye, in a foreign city, native innocents
seem too aggressively to the fore, why should not the seclusion
desired for them be visited a thousandfold upon the heads, let us
say, of students, who are also in a crude transitional state, and
undergoing a growth much more distressing to a sensitive observer
than the physical? Youth is the most inspiring thing on earth, but
not the best to let loose, especially while it carries swaggeringly
that most dangerous of all blunderbusses, knowledge at half-cock.
There is, indeed, no more melancholy condition than that of healthy
boys scowling over books, in an eternal protest against their father
Adam's fall from a state of relative omniscience. Sir Philip Sidney
thought it was "a piece of the Tower of Babylon's curse that a man
should be put to school to learn his mother-tongue!" The throes of
education are as degrading and demoralizing as a hanging, and, when
the millennium sets in, will be as carefully screened from the laity.
Around the master and the pupil will be reared a portly and decorous
Chinese wall, which shall pen within their proper precincts the din
of _hic, hæc, hoc_, and the steam of suppers sacrificed to Pallas.
The more noxious variety of student, however, is not young. He is
"in the midway of this our mortal life"; he is fearfully foraging,
with intent to found and govern an academy; he runs in squads after
Anglo-Saxon or that blatant beast, Comparative Mythology; he stops
you on 'change to ask if one has not good grounds for believing that
there was such a person as Pope Joan. He can never let well enough
alone. Heine must be translated and Junius must be identified. The
abodes of hereditary scholars are depopulated by the red flag of
the _nouveau instruit_. He infests every civilized country; the
army-worm is nothing to him. He has either lacked early discipline
altogether, or gets tainted, late in life, with the notion that
he has never shown sufficiently how intellectual he really is. In
every contemplative-looking person he sees a worthy victim, and
his kindling eye, as he bears down upon you, precludes escape: he
can achieve no peace unless he is driving you mad with all which
you fondly dreamed you had left behind in old S.'s accursed
lecture-room. You may commend to him in vain the reminder which
Erasmus left for the big-wigs, that it is the quality of what you
know which tells, and never its quantity. It is inconceivable to him
that you should shut your impious teeth against First Principles,
and fear greatly to displace in yourself the illiteracies you have
painfully acquired.
Judge, then, if the learner of this type (and in a bitterer degree,
the learneress) could but be safely cloistered, how much simpler
would become the whole problem of living! How profoundly would
it benefit both society and himself could the formationary mind,
destined, as like as not, to no ultimate development, be sequestered
by legal statute in one imperative limbo, along with babes, lovers,
and training athletes! _Quicquid ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi._
For the true scholar's sign-manual is not the midnight lamp on a
folio. He knows; he is baked through; all superfluous effort and
energy are over for him. To converse consumedly upon the weather,
and compare notes as to "whether it is likely to hold up for
to-morrow,"--this, says Hazlitt, "is the end and privilege of a life
of study." Secretly, decently, pleasantly, has he acquired his mental
stock; insensibly he diffuses, not always knowledge, but sometimes
the more needful scorn of knowledge. Among folk who break their
worthy heads indoors over Mr. Browning and Madame Blavatsky, he moves
cheerful, incurious, and free, on glorious good terms with arts and
crafts for which he has no use, with extraneous languages which he
will never pursue, with vague Muses impossible to invite to dinner.
He is strictly non-educational:
"Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down."
He loathes information and the givers and takers thereof. Like Mr.
Lang, he laments bitterly that Oxford is now a place where many
things are being learned and taught with great vigor. The main
business to him is to live gracefully, without mental passion, and to
get off alone into a corner for an affectionate view of creation. A
mystery serves his turn better than a history. It is to be remembered
that had the Rev. Laurence Sterne gone to gaze upon the spandrils
of Rouen Cathedral, we should all have lost the _fille de chambre_,
the dead ass, and Maria by the brookside. Any one of these is worth
more than hieroglyphics; but who is to attain that insight that these
are so, except the man of culture, who has the courage to forget at
times even his sole science, and fall back with delight upon a choice
assortment of ignorances?
The scholar's own research, from his cradle, clothes him in privacy;
nor will he ever invade the privacy of others. It is not with a light
heart that he contemplates the kindergarten system. He himself,
holding his tongue, and fleeing from Junius and Pope Joan, from cubic
roots and the boundaries of Hindostan, from the delicate difference
between the idiom of Maeterlinck and that of Ollendorff, must be an
evil sight to Chautauquans, albeit approved of the angels. He has
little to utter which will sound wise, the full-grown, finished soul!
If he had, he would of his own volition seek a cell in that asylum
for protoplasms, which we have made bold to recommend.
The truth is, very few can be trusted with an education. In the
old days, while this was a faith, boredom and nervous prostration
were not common, and social conditions were undeniably picturesque.
Then, as now, quiet was the zenith of power: the mellow mind was
unexcursive and shy. Then, as now, though young clerical Masters
of Arts went staggering abroad with heads lolling like Sisyphus'
stone, the ideal worth and weight grew "lightly as a flower." Sweetly
wrote the good Sprat of his famous friend Cowley: "His learning sat
exceedingly close and handsomely upon him: it was not embossed on
his mind, but enamelled." The best to be said of any knowing one
among us, is that he does not readily show what deeps are in him;
that he is unformidable, and reminds whomever he meets of a distant
or deceased uncle. Initiation into noble facts has not ruined him
for this world nor the other. It was a beautiful brag which James
Howell, on his first going beyond sea, March the first, in the year
sixteen hundred and eighteen, made to his father. He gives thanks
for "that most indulgent and costly Care you have been | 1,740.755628 |
2023-11-16 18:46:04.9489700 | 4,343 | 39 | ***
E-text prepared by Christine Aldridge 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 31900-h.htm or 31900-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31900/31900-h/31900-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/31900/31900-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.
A complete list of spelling corrections and notations
is located at the end of this text.
Edition d'Elite
HISTORICAL TALES
The Romance of Reality
by
CHARLES MORRIS
Author of "Half-Hours with the Best American Authors," "Tales
from the Dramatists," etc.
In Fifteen Volumes
VOLUME XIII
King Arthur
1
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON
Copyright, 1891, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
Copyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
Copyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
* * * * *
[Illustration: FURNESS ABBEY.]
CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.
BOOK I.
HOW ARTHUR WON THE THRONE.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I.--THE MAGIC SWORD 19
II.--ARTHUR'S WARS AND THE MYSTERY OF HIS BIRTH 28
III.--THE LADY OF THE LAKE 39
IV.--GUENEVER AND THE ROUND TABLE 46
BOOK II.
THE DEEDS OF BALIN.
I.--HOW BALIN WON AND USED THE ENCHANTED SWORD 55
II.--HOW ARTHUR TRIUMPHED OVER THE KINGS 65
III.--HOW BALIN GAVE THE DOLOROUS STROKE 72
IV.--THE FATE OF BALIN AND BALAN 81
V.--MERLIN'S FOLLY AND FATE 89
BOOK III.
THE TREASON OF MORGAN LE FAY.
I.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED SHIP 94
II.--THE COMBAT OF ARTHUR AND ACCOLAN 102
III.--HOW MORGAN CHEATED THE KING 110
IV.--THE COUNTRY OF STRANGE ADVENTURES 120
BOOK IV.
LANCELOT DU LAKE.
I.--HOW TROUBLE CAME TO LIONEL AND HECTOR 137
II.--THE CONTEST OF THE FOUR QUEENS 143
III.--HOW LANCELOT AND TURQUINE FOUGHT 153
IV.--THE CHAPEL AND PERILOUS 164
V.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE FALCON 174
BOOK V.
THE ADVENTURES OF BEAUMAINS.
I.--THE KNIGHTING OF KAY'S KITCHEN BOY 179
II.--THE BLACK, THE GREEN, AND THE RED KNIGHTS 187
III.--THE RED KNIGHT OF THE RED LAWNS 201
IV.--HOW BEAUMAINS WON HIS BRIDE 212
BOOK VI.
TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE AND THE FAIR ISOLDE.
I.--HOW TRISTRAM WAS KNIGHTED 238
II.--LA BELLA ISOLDE 249
III.--THE WAGER OF BATTLE 258
IV.--THE DRAUGHT OF LOVE 267
V.--THE PERILS OF TRUE LOVE 275
VI.--THE MADNESS OF SIR TRISTRAM 289
BOOK VII.
HOW TRISTRAM CAME TO CAMELOT.
I.--TRISTRAM AND DINADAN 304
II.--ON THE ROAD TO THE TOURNAMENT 312
III.--AT THE CASTLE OF MAIDENS 322
IV.--THE QUEST OF THE TEN KNIGHTS 335
V.--THE KNIGHT WITH THE COVERED SHIELD 345
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
KING ARTHUR. VOL. I.
PAGE
FURNESS ABBEY _Frontispiece_.
STATUE OF KING ARTHUR AT INNSBRUCK 24
KING ARTHUR'S FAIR LOVE 48
KING ARTHUR'S TOMB 70
MERLIN AND NIMUE 89
THE GREAT FOREST 94
NIMUE 105
THE LOVE OF PELLEAS AND NIMUE 134
DREAM OF SIR LANCELOT 139
OLD ARCHES OF THE ABBEY WALL 149
KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE, WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL 179
BEAUMAINS, DAMSEL, AND DWARF 213
THE JOYOUS WEDDING 235
SIR TRISTRAM HARPING TO ISOLDE 250
A CASTLE OF CORNWALL 258
TRISTRAM AND THE FAIR ISOLDE 273
THE CLIFFS ABOVE THE SEA 288
TINTAGIL KING ARTHUR'S CASTLE 302
TRISTRAM THEREUPON DEPARTED TO HIS PAVILION 325
ADMISSION OF SIR TRISTRAM TO THE KING OF THE
ROUND TABLE 359
* * * * *
INTRODUCTORY.
Geoffrey of Monmouth, the famous chronicler of legendary British
history, tells us,--in reference to the time when the Celtic kings of
Britain were struggling against the Saxon invaders,--that "there
appeared a star of wonderful magnitude and brightness, darting its rays,
at the end of which was a globe of fire in the form of a dragon, out of
whose mouth issued two rays; one of which seemed to stretch itself
beyond the extent of Gaul, the other towards the Irish Sea, and ended in
two lesser rays." He proceeds to say, that Merlin, the magician, being
called on to explain this portent, declared that the dragon represented
Uther, the brother of King Ambrose, who was destined himself soon to
become king; that the ray extending towards Gaul indicated a great son,
who should conquer the Gallic Kingdoms; and that the ray with two lesser
rays indicated a daughter, whose son and grandson should successively
reign over Britain. Uther, in consequence, when he came to the throne,
had two gold dragons made, one of which he placed in the cathedral of
Winchester, which it brightly illuminated; the other he kept, and from
it gained the name of _Pendragon_. The powerful ray represented his
great son Arthur, destined to become the flower of chivalry, and the
favorite hero of mediaeval romance.
This is history as Geoffrey of Monmouth understood it, but hardly so in
the modern sense, and Arthur remains as mystical a figure as Achilles,
despite the efforts of various writers to bring him within the circle of
actual kings. After the Romans left Britain, two centuries passed of
whose history hardly a coherent shred remains. This was the age of
Arthur, one of the last champions of Celtic Britain against the
inflowing tide of Anglo-Saxon invasion. That there was an actual Arthur
there is some, but no very positive, reason to believe. After all the
evidence has been offered, we still seem to have but a shadowy hero
before us, "a king of shreds and patches," whose history is so pieced
out with conjecture that it is next to impossible to separate its facts
from its fancies.
The Arthur of the legends, of the Welsh and Breton ballads, of the later
_Chansons de Geste_, of Malory and Tennyson, has quite stepped out of
the historic page and become a hero without time or place in any real
world, a king of the imagination, the loftiest figure in that great
outgrowth of chivalric romance which formed the favorite fictitious
literature of Europe during three or four of the mediaeval centuries.
Charlemagne, the leading character in the earlier romances of chivalry,
was, in the twelfth century, replaced by Arthur, a milder and more
Christian-like hero, whose adventures, with those of his Knights of the
Round Table, delighted the tenants of court and castle in that
marvel-loving and uncritical age. That the stories told of him are all
fiction cannot be declared. Many of them may have been founded on fact.
But, like the stones of a prehistoric wall, their facts are so densely
enveloped by the ivy of fiction that it is impossible to delve them out.
The ballads and romances in which the King Arthur of mediaeval story
figures as the hero, would scarcely prove pleasant and profitable
reading to us now, however greatly they delighted our ancestors. They
are marked by a coarseness and crudity which would be but little to our
taste. Nor have we anything of modern growth to replace them. Milton
entertained a purpose of making King Arthur the hero of an epic poem,
but fortunately yielded it for the nobler task of "Paradise Lost."
Spenser gives this hero a minor place in his "Fairie Queen." Dryden
projected a King Arthur epic, but failed to write it. Recently Bulwer
has given us a cumbersome "King Arthur," which nobody reads; and
Tennyson has handled the subject brilliantly in his "Idyls of the King,"
splendid successes as poems, yet too infiltrated with the spirit of
modernism to be acceptable as a reproduction of the Arthur of romance.
For a true rehabilitation of this hero of the age of chivalry we must go
to the "Morte Darthur" of Sir Thomas Malory, a writer of the fifteenth
century, who lived when men still wore armor, and so near to the actual
age of chivalry as to be in full sympathy with the spirit of its
fiction, and its pervading love of adventure and belief in the magical.
Malory did a work of high value in editing the confused mass of earlier
fiction, lopping off its excrescences and redundancies, reducing its
coarseness of speech, and producing from its many stories and episodes
a coherent and continuous narrative, in which the adventures of the
Round Table Knights are deftly interwoven with the record of the birth,
life, and death of the king, round whom as the central figure all these
knightly champions revolve. Malory seems to have used as the basis of
his work perhaps one, perhaps several, old French prose romances, and
possibly also material derived from Welsh and English ballads. Such
material in his day was doubtless abundant. Geoffrey had drawn much of
his legendary history from the ancient Welsh ballads. The mass of
romantic fiction which he called history became highly popular, first in
Brittany, and then in France, the Trouveres making Arthur, Lancelot,
Tristram, Percival, and others of the knightly circle the heroes of
involved romances, in which a multitude of new incidents were invented.
The Minnesingers of Germany took up the same fruitful theme, producing a
"Parzivale," a "Tristan and Isolt," and other heroic romances. From all
this mass of material, Malory wrought his "Morte Darthur," as Homer
wrought his "Iliad" from the preceding warlike ballads, and the unknown
compiler of the "Nibelungenlied" wrought his poem from similar ancient
sources.
Malory was not solely an editor. He was in a large sense a creator. It
was coarse and crude material with which he had to deal, but in his
hands its rude prose gained a degree of poetic fervor. The legends which
he preserves he has in many cases transmuted from base into precious
coin. There is repulsive matter in the old romances, which he freely
cuts out. To their somewhat wooden heroes he gives life and character,
so that in Lancelot, Gawaine, Dinadan, Kay, and others we have to deal
with distinct personalities, not with the non-individualized
hard-hitters of the romances. And to the whole story he gives an epic
completeness which it lacked before. In the early days of Arthur's reign
Merlin warns him that fate has already woven its net about him and that
the sins of himself and his queen will in the end bring his reign to a
violent termination, and break up that grand fellowship of the Round
Table which has made Britain and its king illustrious. This epic
character of Malory's work is pointed out in the article "Geoffrey of
Monmouth" in the "Encyclopaedia Britannica," whose writer says that the
Arthurian legends "were converted into a magnificent prose poem by Sir
Thomas Malory in 1461. Malory's _Morte Darthur_ is as truly _the_ epic
of the English mind as the _Iliad_ is the epic of the Greek mind."
Yet the "Morte Darthur," if epic in plan and treatment, is by no means
free from the defects of primitive literature. It was written before the
age of criticism, and confusion reigns supreme in many of its pages,--a
confusion which a very little critical supervision might have removed.
As an instance, we find that Galahad, two years after his birth, is made
a knight, being then fifteen years old. In like manner the "seat
perilous" at the Round Table is magically reserved for Galahad, the
author evidently forgetting that he had already given it to Percivale.
King Mark's murder of his brother Baldwin is revenged by Baldwin's
grandson, thirty or forty years afterward, though there is nothing to
show that the characters had grown a year older in the interval. Here a
knight finds one antagonist quite sufficient for one man; there he does
not hesitate to attack fifty at once; here a slight wound disables him;
there a dozen deep wounds are fully healed by a night's rest. Many
similar instances might be given, but these will suffice. The
discrepancies here indicated were perhaps due to the employment of
diverse legends, without care to bring them into accordance, but they
lay the work open to adverse criticism.
This lack of critical accuracy may have been a necessary accompaniment
of the credulous frame of mind that could render such a work possible.
It needed an artlessness of mental make-up, a full capacity for
acceptance of the marvellous, a simple-minded faith in chivalry and its
doings, which could scarcely exist in common with the critical
temperament. In truth, the flavor of an age of credulity and simplicity
of thought everywhere permeates this quaint old work, than which nothing
more artless, simple, and unique exists in literature, and nothing with
a higher value as a presentation of the taste in fiction of our mediaeval
predecessors.
Yet the "Morte Darthur" is not easy or attractive reading, to other than
special students of literature. Aside from its confusion of events and
arrangement, it tells the story of chivalry with a monotonous lack of
inflection that is apt to grow wearisome, and in a largely obsolete
style and dialect with whose difficulties readers in general may not
care to grapple. Its pages present an endless succession of single
combats with spear and sword, whose details are repeated with wearisome
iteration. Knights fight furiously for hours together, till they are
carved with deep wounds, and the ground crimsoned with gore. Sometimes
they are so inconsiderate as to die, sometimes so weak as to seek a
leech, but as often they mount and ride away in philosophical disregard
of their wounds, and come up fresh for as fierce a fight the next day.
As for a background of scenery and architecture, it scarcely exists.
Deep interest in man and woman seems to have shut out all scenic
accessories from the mind of the good old knight. It is always but a
step from the castle to the forest, into which the knights-errant
plunge, and where most of their adventures take place; and the favorite
resting-and jousting-place is by the side of forest springs--or wells,
as in the text. We have mention abundant of fair castles, fair valleys,
fair meadows, and the like, the adjective "fair" going far to serve all
needs of description. But in his human characters, with their loves and
hates, jousts and battles, bewitchments and bewilderments, the author
takes deep interest, and follows the episodical stories which are woven
into the plot with a somewhat too satisfying fulness. In evidence of the
dramatic character of many of these episodes we need but refer to the
"Idyls of the King," whose various romantic and tragic narratives are
all derived from this quaint "old master" of fictitious literature.
With all its faults of style and method, the "Morte Darthur" is a very
live book. It never stops to moralize or philosophize, but keeps
strictly to its business of tale-telling, bringing up before the reader
a group of real men and women, not a series of lay-figures on a
background of romance, as in his originals.
Kay with his satirical tongue, Dinadan with his love of fun, Tristram
loving and noble, Lancelot bold and chivalrous, Gawaine treacherous and
implacable, Arthur kingly but adventurous, Mark cowardly and
base-hearted, Guenever jealous but queenly, Isolde tender and faithful,
and a host of other clearly individualized knights and ladies move in
rapid succession through the pages of the romance, giving it, with its
manners of a remote age, a vital interest that appeals to modern tastes.
In attempting to adapt this old masterpiece to the readers of our own
day, we have no purpose to seek to paraphrase or improve on Malory. To
remove the antique flavor would be to destroy the spirit of the work. We
shall leave it as we find it, other than to reduce its obsolete
phraseology and crudities of style to modern English, abridge the
narrative where it is wearisomely extended, omit repetitions and
uninteresting incidents, reduce its confusion of arrangement, attempt a
more artistic division into books and chapters, and by other arts of
editorial revision seek to make it easier reading, while preserving as
fully as possible those unique characteristics which have long made it
delightful to lovers of old literature.
The task here undertaken is no light one, nor is success in it assured.
Malory has an individuality of his own which gives a peculiar charm to
his work, and to retain this in a modernized version is the purpose with
which we set out and which we hope to accomplish. The world of to-day
is full of fiction, endless transcripts of modern life served up in a
great variety of palatable forms. Our castle-living forefathers were not
so abundantly favored. They had no books,--and could not have read them
if they had,--but the wandering minstrel took with them the place of the
modern volume, bearing from castle to court, and court to castle, his
budget of romances of magic and chivalry, and delighting the
hard-hitting knights and barons of that day with stirring ballads and
warlike tales to which their souls rose in passionate response.
| 1,740.96901 |
2023-11-16 18:46:05.0131740 | 5,764 | 23 |
E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, RichardW, and the Online Distributed
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available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the numerous original illustrations.
See 44838-h.htm or 44838-h.zip:
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(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44838/44838-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/timeitsmeasureme00arth
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
The notation "_{n}" means that n is a subscript.
Small capital text has been converted to all uppercase.
TIME AND ITS MEASUREMENT
by
JAMES ARTHUR
Reprinted from
Popular Mechanics Magazine
Copyright, 1909, By H. H. Windsor
Chicago, 1909
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
HISTORIC OUTLINE
Time as an abstraction. -- Ancient divisions of day and night.
-- Night watches of the Old Testament. -- Quarter days and hours
of the New Testament. -- Shadow, or sun time. -- Noon mark dials.
-- Ancient dials of Herculaneum and Pompeii. -- Modern dials. --
Equation of time. -- Three historic methods of measuring time. --
"Time-boy" of India. -- Chinese clepsydra. -- Ancient weather and
time stations. -- Tower of the winds, Athens, Greece Page 13
CHAPTER II
JAPANESE CLOCKS
Chinese and Japanese divisions of the day. -- Hours of varying
length. -- Setting clocks to length of daylight. -- Curved line
dials. -- Numbering hours backwards and strange reasons for
same. -- Daily names for sixty day period. -- Japanese clock
movements practically Dutch. -- Japanese astronomical clock. --
Decimal numbers very old Chinese. -- Original vertical dials
founded on "bamboo stick" of Chinese clepsydra. -- Mathematics
and superstition. -- Mysterious disappearance of hours 1, 2, 3.
-- Eastern mental attitude towards time. -- Japanese methods of
striking hours and half hours Page 25
CHAPTER III
MODERN CLOCKS
De Vick's clock of 1364. -- Original "verge" escapement. --
"Anchor" and "dead beat" escapements. -- "Remontoir" clock. --
The pendulum. -- Jeweling pallets. -- Antique clock with earliest
application of pendulum. -- Turkish watches. -- Correct designs
for public clock faces. -- Art work on old watches. -- 24-hour
watch. -- Syrian and Hebrew hour numerals. -- Correct method of
striking hours and quarters. -- Design for 24-hour dial and
hands. -- Curious clocks. -- Inventions of the old clock-makers
Page 37
CHAPTER IV
ASTRONOMICAL FOUNDATION OF TIME
Astronomical motions on which our time is founded. -- Reasons
for selecting the sidereal day as a basis for our 24-hour
day. -- Year of the seasons shorter than the zodiacal year. --
Precession of the equinoxes. -- Earth's rotation most uniform
motion known to us. -- Time stars and transits. -- Local time.
-- The date line. -- Standard time. -- Beginning and ending of
a day. -- Proposed universal time. -- Clock dial for universal
time and its application to business. -- Next great improvement
in clocks and watches indicated. -- Automatic recording of
the earth's rotation. -- Year of the seasons as a unit for
astronomers. -- General conclusions Page 53
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Portrait of James Arthur 8
Interpretation of Chinese and Japanese Methods of Time Keeping 15
Portable Bronze Sundial from the Ruins of Herculaneum 16
Noon-Mark Sundials 17
Modern Horizontal Sundial for Latitude 40 deg.-43' 18
The Earth, Showing Relation of Dial Styles to Axis 18
Modern Sundial Set Up in Garden 18
"Time-Boy" of India 19
"Hon-woo-et-low," or "Copper Jars Dropping Water"--Canton, China 19
Modern Sand Glass or "Hour Glass" 20
Tower of the Winds, Athens, Greece 20
Key to Japanese Figures 25
Japanese Dials Set for Long and Short Days 25
Japanese Striking Clock with Weight and Short Pendulum 26
Japanese Striking Clock with Spring, Fusee and Balance 26
Japanese Clock with Vertical Dial, Weight and Balance 27
Japanese Clock with Vertical Dial Having Curved Lines, Weight
and Balance 27
Japanese Vertical Dials 28
Japanese Striking Clock with Two Balances and Two Escapements 29
"Twelve Horary Branches" and "10 Celestial Stems" as Used in
Clocks 30
Key to "12 Horary Branches" and "10 Celestial Stems" 30
Dial of Japanese Astronomical Clock 31
Use of "Yeng Number" and Animal Names of Hours 32
Public Dial by James Arthur 37
Dial of Philadelphia City Hall Clock 37
Verge Escapement 37
De Vick's Clock of 1364 38
Anchor Escapement 38
American Anchor Escapement 39
Dead Beat Escapement 39
Remontoir Clock by James Arthur 40
Remontoir Clock Movement 40
Antique Clock, Entirely Hand-Made 41, 42
Double-Case Watch of Repousse Work 42
Triple-Case Turkish Watches 43
Watch Showing Dutch Art Work 43
Triple-Case Turkish Watch 44
Watches Showing Art Work 45
Antique Watch Cock 46
"Chinese" Watch 46
Musical Watch, Repeating Hours and Quarters 47
Syrian Dial 47
Hebrew Numerals 48
Twenty-four Hour Watch 48
Domestic Dial by James Arthur 49
Local Time--Standard Time--Beginning and Ending of the Day 57
Universal Time Dial Set for Four Places 61
[Illustration: James Arthur
Mr. Arthur is an enthusiastic scientist, a successful inventor and
extensive traveler, who has for years been making a study of clocks,
watches, and time-measuring devices. He is not only a great authority
on this subject, but his collection of over 1500 timepieces gathered
from all parts of the globe has been pronounced the finest collection
in the world. Mr. Arthur is a pleasing exception to the average
business man, for he has found time to do a large amount of study and
research along various scientific lines in addition to conducting an
important manufacturing business in New York City, of which he is
president. Mr. Arthur is 67 years of age.--H. H. Windsor.]
CHAPTER I
HISTORIC OUTLINE
Time as an abstraction. -- Ancient divisions of day and night.
-- Night watches of the Old Testament. -- Quarter days and hours
of the New Testament. -- Shadow or sun time. -- Noon mark dials.
-- Ancient dials of Herculaneum and Pompeii. -- Modern Dials. --
Equation of time. -- Three historic methods of measuring time. --
"Time-boy" of India. -- Chinese clepsydra. -- Ancient weather and
time stations. -- Tower of the winds, Athens, Greece.
Time, as a separate entity, has not yet been defined in language.
Definitions will be found to be merely explanations of the sense in
which we use the word in matters of practical life. No human being
can tell how long a minute is; only that it is longer than a second
and shorter than an hour. In some sense we can think of a longer
or shorter period of time, but this is merely comparative. The
difference between 50 and 75 steps a minute in marching is clear to
us, but note that we introduce motion and space before we can get a
conception of time as a succession of events, but time, in itself,
remains elusive.
In time measures we strive for a uniform motion of something and
this implies equal spaces in equal times; so we here assume just
what we cannot explain, for space is as difficult to define as time.
Time cannot be "squared" or used as a multiplier or divisor. Only
numbers can be so used; so when we speak of "the square of the time"
we mean some number which we have arbitrarily assumed to represent
it. This becomes plain when we state that in calculations relating
to pendulums, for example, we may use seconds and inches--minutes
and feet--or seconds and meters and the answer will come out right
in the units which we have assumed. Still more, numbers themselves
have no meaning till they are applied to something, and here we are
applying them to time, space and motion; so we are trying to explain
three abstractions by a fourth! But, happily, the results of these
assumptions and calculations are borne out in practical human life,
and we are not compelled to settle the deep question as to whether
fundamental knowledge is possible to the human mind. Those desiring
a few headaches on these questions can easily get them from Kant
and Spencer--but that is all they will get on these four necessary
assumptions.
Evidently, man began by considering the day as a unit and did not
include the night in his time keeping for a long period. "And the
evening and the morning were the first day" Gen. 1, 5; "Evening and
morning and at noonday," Ps. LV, 17, divides the day ("sun up") in
two parts. "Fourth part of a day," Neh. IX, 3, shows another advance.
Then comes, "are there not twelve hours in a day," John XI, 9. The
"eleventh hour," Matt. XX, 1 to 12, shows clearly that sunset was
12 o'clock. A most remarkable feature of this 12-hour day, in the
New Testament, is that the writers generally speak of the third,
sixth and ninth hours, Acts II, 15; III, 1; X, 9. This is extremely
interesting, as it shows that the writers still thought in quarter
days (Neh. IX, 3) and had not yet acquired the 12-hour conception
given to them by the Romans. They thought in quarter days even
when using the 12-hour numerals! Note further that references are
to "hours;" so it is evident that in New Testament times they did
not need smaller subdivisions. "About the third hour," shows the
mental attitude. That they had no conception of our minutes, seconds
and fifth seconds becomes quite plain when we notice that they
jumped down from the hour to nowhere, in such expressions as "in an
instant--in the twinkling of an eye."
Before this, the night had been divided into three watches, Judges
VII, 19. Poetry to this day uses the "hours" and the "watches" as
symbols.
This 12 hours of daylight gave very variable hours in latitudes some
distance from the equator, being long in summer and short in winter.
The amount of human ingenuity expended on time measures so as to
divide the time from sunrise to sunset into 12 equal parts is almost
beyond belief. In Constantinople, to-day, this is used, but in a
rather imperfect manner, for the clocks are modern and run 24 hours
uniformly; so the best they can do is to set them to mark twelve at
sunset. This necessitates setting to the varying length of the days,
so that the clocks appear to be sometimes more and sometimes less
than six hours ahead of ours. A clock on the tower at the Sultan's
private mosque gives the impression of being out of order and about
six hours ahead, but it is running correctly to their system. Hotels
often show two clocks, one of them to our twelve o'clock noon system.
Evidently the Jewish method of ending a day at sunset is the same
and explains the command, "let not the sun go down upon thy wrath,"
which we might read, do not carry your anger over to another day. I
venture to say that we still need that advice.
This simple line of steps in dividing the day and night is taken
principally from the Bible because everyone can easily look up the
passages quoted and many more, while quotations from books not in
general use would not be so clear. Further, the neglect of the Bible
is such a common complaint in this country that if I induce a few
to look into it a little some good may result, quite apart from the
matter of religious belief.
Some Chinese and Japanese methods of dividing the day and night are
indicated in Fig. 1. The old Japanese method divides the day into
six hours and the night also into six, each hour averaging twice as
long as ours. In some cases they did this by changing the rate of the
clock, and in others by letting the clock run uniformly and changing
the hour marks on the dial, but this will come later when we reach
Japanese clocks.
It is remarkable that at the present time in England the "saving
daylight" agitation is virtually an attempt to go back to this
discarded system. "John Bull," for a long period the time-keeper
of the world with headquarters at Greenwich, and during that time
the most pretentious clock-maker, now proposes to move his clocks
backward and forward several times a year so as to "fool" his workmen
out of their beds in the mornings! Why not commence work a few
minutes earlier each fortnight while days are lengthening and the
reverse when they are shortening?
This reminds me of a habit which was common in Scotland,--"keeping
the clock half an hour forward." In those days work commenced at six
o'clock, so the husband left his house at six and after a good walk
arrived at the factory at six! Don't you see that if his clock had
been set right he would have found it necessary to leave at half
past five? But, you say he was simply deceiving himself and acting
in an unreasonable manner. Certainly, but the average man is not a
reasonable being, and "John Bull" knows this and is trying to fool
the average Englishman.
[Illustration: Fig. 1--Interpretation of Chinese and Japanese Methods
of Time Keeping]
Now, as to the methods of measuring time, we must use circumstantial
evidence for the pre-historic period. The rising and the going down
of the sun--the lengthening shadows, etc., must come first, and we are
on safe ground here, for savages still use primitive methods like
setting up a stick and marking its shadow so that a party trailing
behind can estimate the distance the leaders are ahead by the changed
position of the shadow. Men notice their shortening and lengthening
shadows to this day. When the shadow of a man shortens more and
more slowly till it appears to be fixed, the observer knows it
is noon, and when it shows the least observable lengthening then
it is just past noon. Now, it is a remarkable fact that this crude
method of determining noon is just the same as "taking the sun" to
determine noon at sea. Noon is the time at which the sun reaches his
highest point on any given day. At sea this is determined generally
by a sextant, which simply measures the angle between the horizon
and the sun. The instrument is applied a little before noon and the
observer sees the sun creeping upward slower and slower till a little
tremor or hesitation appears indicating that the sun has reached his
height,--noon. Oh! you wish to know if the observer is likely to make
a mistake? Yes, and when accurate local time is important, several
officers on a large ship will take the meridian passage at the same
time and average their readings, so as to reduce the "personal
error." All of which is merely a greater degree of accuracy than that
of the man who observes his shadow.
[Illustration: Fig. 2--Portable Bronze Sundial from the Ruins of
Herculaneum]
The gradual development of the primitive shadow methods culminated
in the modern sundial. The "dial of Ahas," Isa. XXXVIII, 8, on which
the sun went back 10 "degrees" is often referred to, but in one of
the revised editions of the unchangeable word the sun went back 10
"steps." This becomes extremely interesting when we find that in
India there still remains an immense dial built with steps instead of
hour lines. Figure 2 shows a pocket, or portable sundial taken from
the ruins of Herculaneum and now in the Museo National, Naples. It
is bronze, was silver plated and is in the form of a ham suspended
from the hock joint. From the tail, evidently bent from its original
position, which forms the gnomon, lines radiate and across these wavy
lines are traced. It is about 5 in. long and 3 in. wide. Being in the
corner of a glass case I was unable to get small details, but museum
authorities state that names of months are engraved on it, so it
would be a good guess that these wavy lines had something to do with
the long and short days.
In a restored flower garden, within one of the large houses in the
ruins of Pompeii, may be seen a sundial of the Armillary type,
presumably in its original position. I could not get close to it, as
the restored garden is railed in, but it looks as if the plane of the
equator and the position of the earth's axis must have been known to
the maker.
Both these dials were in use about the beginning of our era and were
covered by the great eruption of Vesuvius in 79 A.D., which destroyed
Pompeii and Herculaneum.
Modern sundials differ only in being more accurately made and a few
"curiosity" dials added. The necessity for time during the night,
as man's life became a little more complicated, necessitated the
invention of time machines. The "clepsydra," or water clock, was
probably the first. A French writer has dug up some old records
putting it back to Hoang-ti 2679 B.C., but it appears to have been
certainly in use in China in 1100 B.C., so we will be satisfied
with that date. In presenting a subject to the young student it
is sometimes advisable to use round numbers to give a simple
comprehension and then leave him to find the overlapping of dates and
methods as he advances. Keeping this in mind, the following table may
be used to give an elementary hint of the three great steps in time
measuring:
Shadow time, 2000 to 1000 B. C.
Dials and Water Clocks, 1000 B. C. to 1000 A. D.
Clocks and watches, 1000 to 2000 A. D.
I have pushed the gear wheel clocks and watches forward to 2000 A.D.,
as they may last to that time, but I have no doubt we will supersede
them. At the present time science is just about ready to say that
a time measurer consisting of wheels and pinions--a driving power
and a regulator in the form of a pendulum or balance, is a clumsy
contrivance and that we ought to do better very soon; but more on
this hoped-for, fourth method when we reach the consideration of the
motion on which we base all our time keeping.
It is remarkable how few are aware that the simplest form of sundial
is the best, and that, as a regulator of our present clocks, it is
good within one or two minutes. No one need be without a "noon-mark"
sundial; that is, every one may have the best of all dials. Take a
post or any straight object standing "plumb," or best of all the
corner of a building as in Fig. 3. In the case of the post, or tree
trunk, a stone (shown in solid black) may be set in the ground;
but for the building a line may often be cut across a flagstone of
the footpath. Many methods may be employed to get this noon mark,
which is simply a north and south line. Viewing the pole star, using
a compass (if the local variation is known) or the old method of
finding the time at which the shadow of a pole is shortest. But the
best practical way in this day is to use a watch set to local time
and make the mark at 12 o'clock.
[Illustration: Fig. 3--Noon-Mark Sundials]
On four days of the year the sun is right and your mark may be set at
12 on these days, but you may use an almanac and look in the column
marked "mean time at noon" or "sun on meridian." For example, suppose
on the bright day when you are ready to place your noon mark you read
in this column 11:50, then when your watch shows 11:50 make your noon
mark to the shadow and it will be right for all time to come. Owing
to the fact that there are not an even number of days in a year, it
follows that on any given yearly date at noon the earth is not at
the same place in its elliptical orbit and the correction of this
by the leap years causes the equation table to vary in periods of
four years. The centennial leap years cause another variation of 400
years, etc., but these variations are less than the error in reading
a dial.
SUN ON NOON MARK, 1909
-------------------------------------------------------
Clock Clock Clock
Date Time Date Time Date Time
-------------------------------------------------------
Jan. 2 12:04 May 1 11:57 Sep. 30 11:50
" 4 12:05 " 15 11:56 Oct. 3 11:49
" 7 12:06 " 28 11:57 " 6 11:48
" 9 12:07 June 4 11:58 " 10 11:47
" 11 12:08 " 10 11:59 " 14 11:46
" 14 12:09 " 14 12:00 " 19 11:45
" 17 12:10 " 19 12:01 " 26 11:44
" 20 12:11 " 24 12:02 Nov. 17 11:45
" 23 12:12 " 29 12:03 " 22 11:46
" 28 12:13 July 4 12:04 " 25 11:47
Feb. 3 12:14 " 10 12:05 " 29 11:48
" 26 12:13 " 19 12:06 Dec. 1 11:49
Mar. 3 12:12 Aug. 11 12:05 " 4 11:50
" 8 12:11 " 16 12:04 " 6 11:51
" 11 12:10 " 21 12:03 " 9 11:52
" 15 12:09 " 25 12:02 " 11 11:53
" 18 12:08 " 28 12:01 " 13 11:54
" 22 12:07 " 31 12:00 " 15 11:55
" 25 12:06 Sep. 4 11:59 " 17 11:56
" 28 12:05 " 7 11:58 " 19 11:57
Apr. 1 12:04 " 10 11:57 " 21 11:58
" 4 12:03 " 12 11:56 " 23 11:59
" 7 12:02 " 15 11:55 " 25 12:00
" 11 12:01 " 18 11:54 " 27 12:01
" 15 12:00 " 21 11:53 " 29 12:02
" 19 11:59 " 24 11:52 " 31 12:03
" 24 11:58 " 27 11:51
-------------------------------------------------------
The above table shows the variation of the sun from "mean"
or clock time, by even minutes.
[Illustration: Fig. 4--12-Inch Modern Horizontal Sundial for Latitude
40 deg.-43']
[Illustration: Fig. 5--The Earth, Showing Relation of Dial Styles to
Axis]
The reason that the table given here is convenient for setting clocks
to mean time is that a minute is as close as a dial can be read, but
if you wish for greater accuracy, then the almanac, which | 1,741.033214 |
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THE ESCAPE OF MR. TRIMM
[Illustration: NOBODY PAID ANY ATTENTION TO MR. TRIMM.--_Frontispiece_
(_Page 18._)]
THE ESCAPE
OF MR. TRIMM
_HIS PLIGHT AND OTHER PLIGHTS_
BY
IRVIN S. COBB
AUTHOR OF
OLD JUDGE PRIEST,
BACK HOME, ETC.
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1910, 1911, 1912 AND 1913
BY THE | 1,741.154308 |
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top. Underscores have been used to indicate _italic_ fonts; equal signs
indicate =bold= fonts. Original spelling variations have not been
standardized. A list of volumes and pages in "Notes and Queries" has
been added at the end.]
NOTES AND QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION
FOR
LITERARY MEN, ARTISTS, ANTIQUARIES, GENEALOGISTS, ETC.
"When found, make a note of."--CAPTAIN CUTTLE.
VOL. IV | 1,741.160195 |
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[Picture: Portrait of Lady Anne Blunt in Arab Costume]
A PILGRIMAGE TO NEJD,
_THE CRADLE OF THE ARAB RACE_.
* * * * *
A VISIT TO THE COURT OF THE ARAB EMIR, AND
“OUR PERSIAN CAMPAIGN.”
* * * * *
BY LADY ANNE BLUNT.
AUTHOR OF “THE BEDOUIN TRIBES OF THE EUPHRATES.”
* * * * *
IN TWO VOLUMES.—VOL. I.
* * * * *
WITH MAP, PORTRAITS, AND ILLUSTRATIONS FROM
THE AUTHOR’S DRAWINGS.
* * * * *
_SECOND EDITION_.
* * * * *
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET,
1881.
[_All Rights reserved_.]
* * * * *
These Volumes Are Dedicated
TO
SIR HENRY CRESWICKE RAWLINSON,
K.C.B., F.R.S.
BY
THE AUTHORESS.
PREFACE BY THE EDITOR.
READERS of our last year’s adventures on the Euphrates will hardly need
it to be explained to them why the present journey was undertaken, nor
why it stands described upon our title page as a “Pilgrimage.” The
journey to Nejd forms the natural complement of the journey through
Mesopotamia and the Syrian Desert; while Nejd itself, with the romantic
interest attached to its name, seems no unworthy object of a religious
feeling, such as might prompt the visit to a shrine. Nejd, in the
imagination of the Bedouins of the North, is a region of romance, the
| 1,741.198892 |
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Produced by Michael Gray
Eternal Life
By Professor
Henry
Drummond
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus
Copyright 1896 by Henry Altemus.
ETERNAL LIFE.
"This is Life Eternal--that they might know Thee, the True God, and
Jesus Christ whom Thou has sent."--_Jesus Christ_.
"Perfect correspondence would be perfect life. Were there no changes in
the environment but such as the organism had adapted changes to meet,
and were it never to fail in the efficiency with which it met them,
there would be eternal existence and eternal knowledge."--_Herbert
Spencer_.
ONE of the most startling achievements of recent science is a definition
of Eternal Life. To the religious mind this is a contribution of immense
moment. For eighteen hundred years only one definition of Life Eternal
was before the world. Now there are two.
Through all these centuries revealed religion had this doctrine to
itself. Ethics had a voice, as well as Christianity, on the question of
the _summum bonum_; Philosophy ventured to speculate on the Being of a
God. But no source outside Christianity contributed anything to the
doctrine of Eternal Life. Apart from Revelation, this great truth was
unguaranteed. It was the one thing in the Christian system that most
needed verification from without, yet none was forthcoming. And never
has any further light been thrown upon the question why in its very
nature the Christian Life should be Eternal. Christianity itself even
upon this point has been obscure. Its decision upon the bare fact is
authoritative and specific. But as to what there is in the Spiritual
Life necessarily endowing it with the element of Eternity, the maturest
theology is all but silent.
It has been reserved for modern biology at once to defend and illuminate
this central truth of the Christian faith. And hence in the interests of
religion, practical and evidential, this second and scientific
definition of Eternal Life is to be hailed as an announcement of
commanding interest. Why it should not yet have received the recognition
of religious thinkers--for already it has lain some years unnoticed--is
not difficult to understand. The belief in Science as an aid to faith is
not yet ripe enough to warrant men in searching there for witnesses to
the highest Christian truths. The inspiration of Nature, it is thought,
extends to the humbler doctrines alone. And yet the reverent inquirer
who guides his steps in the right direction may find even now in the
still dim twilight of the scientific world much that will illuminate and
intensify his sublimest faith. Here, at least, comes, and comes
unbidden, the opportunity of testing the most vital point of the
Christian system. Hitherto the Christian philosopher has remained
content with the scientific evidence against Annihilation. Or, with
Butler, he has reasoned from the Metamorphoses of Insects to a future
life. Or again, with the authors of "The Unseen Universe," the apologist
has constructed elaborate, and certainly impressive, arguments upon the
Law of Continuity. But now we may draw nearer. For the first time
Science touches Christianity _positively_ on the doctrine of
Immortality. It confronts us with an actual definition of an Eternal
Life, based on a full and rigidly accurate examination of the necessary
conditions. Science does not pretend that it can fulfil these
conditions. Its votaries make no claim to possess the Eternal Life. It
simply postulates the requisite conditions without concerning itself
whether any organism should ever appear, or does now exist, which might
fulfil them. The claim of religion, on the other hand, is that there are
organisms which possess Eternal Life. And the problem for us to solve is
this: Do those who profess to possess Eternal Life fulfil the conditions
required by Science, or are they different conditions? In a word, Is the
Christian conception of Eternal Life scientific?
It may be unnecessary to notice at the outset that the definition of
Eternal Life drawn up by Science was framed without reference to
religion. It must indeed have been the last thought with the thinker to
whom we chiefly owe it, that in unfolding the conception of a Life in
its very nature necessarily eternal, he was contributing to Theology.
Mr. Herbert Spencer--for it is to him we owe it--would be the first to
admit the impartiality of his definition; and from the connection in
which it occurs in his writings, it is obvious that religion was not
even present to his mind. He is analyzing with minute care the relations
between Environment and Life. He unfolds the principle according to
which Life is high or low, long or short. He shows why organisms live
and why they die. And finally he defines a condition of things in which
an organism would never die--in which it would enjoy a perpetual and
perfect Life. This to him is, of course, but a speculation | 1,741.254893 |
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+-----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's note: |
| |
| Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has |
| been preserved. |
| |
| Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For |
| a complete list, please see the end of this document. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: I bring you the best help that ever Knight or City
had For it is God's help not sent for love of me but by God's
good pleasure]
HEROINES THAT EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW
Tales for Young People of the World's Heroines of All Ages
CO-EDITED BY
HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE
AND KATE STEPHENS
DECORATED BY
BLANCHE OSTERTAG
[Illustration]
New York
Doubleday, Page & Company
1908
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
PUBLISHED, FEBRUARY, 1908
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES
INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The editors and publishers wish to acknowledge the courtesy of authors
and publishers named below, for the use of certain material in this
volume: To Mrs. Elizabeth E. Seelye for material adapted for
Pocahontas, from her volume entitled "Pocahontas" (copyrighted, 1879,
by Dodd, Mead & Company); to Messrs. Harper and Brothers and to the
Estate of Mr. John S.C. Abbott for material adapted for Madame Roland;
to Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Company for material adapted for Alcestis,
Antigone and Iphigenia; to Messrs. E.P. Dutton & Company for material
adapted for Lady Jane Grey; to the Macmillan Company for certain
material in Paula; to Messrs. Hutchinson & Company, London, for
material adapted for Sister Dora.
INTRODUCTION
The Book of Heroes should never be separated from the Book of
Heroines; they are the two parts of that story of courage, service and
achievement which is the most interesting and inspiring chapter in the
history of human kind in this wonderful world of ours. Whenever and
wherever there has appeared a hero, a heroine has almost always worked
with or for him; for heroic and noble deeds are rarely done without
some kind of cooperation. Now and then, it is true, single acts of
daring stand out alone; but, as a rule, the hero gains his end because
other men or women stand beside him in times of great peril. William
the Silent could not have made his heroic defence of the Low Countries
against the armies of Spain if men of heroic temper and women of
indomitable courage had not been about him in those terrible years;
Washington could not have converted a body of farmers into an
organized and disciplined army if he had not been aided by the skill
of drill masters like Steuben; nor could Lieutenant Peary make
brilliant dashes for the North Pole if other men did not join him in
his perilous expeditions. The hero is generally a leader of heroes, as
a great general is a leader of soldiers who carry out his plans in
hourly jeopardy of limb and life.
It is a mistake to think of heroes as rare and exceptional men; the
world is full of those who take their lives in their hands every day
and think nothing about it; or, if they think of it at all, think of
it, as Mr. Kipling would say, as part of the day's work. It is almost
impossible to open a daily newspaper without coming upon some story of
daring by some obscure man or woman. The record of a fire department
is usually a continuous register of the brave deeds done by those who
receive very small pay for a very dangerous service to their fellows.
It is not necessary to go back to the days of chivalry or to open the
histories of great wars to find a hero; he lives in every street,
works in every profession and never thinks that he is doing anything
unusual or impressive. There are many stories of heroic deeds and men,
but these are as nothing compared with the unwritten stories of brave
and chivalrous people whose lives are full of courage, self-denial and
sacrifice, but of whom no public reports are ever made.
It has taken three centuries to explore and settle this country, and
there are still parts of it in which those who live face the perils
and hardships of pioneers. Ever since the war of the Revolution the
skirmish line of civilisation has moved steadily forward from the
Atlantic to the Pacific; and every man who has carried a rifle or an
axe, who has defended his home against Indians or cut down trees, made
a clearing, built a rude house and turned the prairie or the land
taken from the forest into a farm, has had something of the hero in
him. He has often been selfish, harsh and unjust; but he has been
daring, full of endurance and with a capacity for heroic work; But he
has never been alone; we see him always as he faces his foes or bears
the strain of his work: we often forget that there was as much courage
in the log house as on the firing line at the edge of the forest, and
that the work indoors was harder in many ways than the work out of
doors and far less varied and inspiriting. If we could get at the
facts we should find that there have been more heroines than heroes in
the long warfare of the race against foes within and without, and that
the courage of women has had far less to stimulate it in dramatic or
picturesque conditions or crises. It is much easier to make a perilous
charge in full daylight, with flying banners and the music of bugles
ringing across the field, than to hold a lonely post, in solitude at
midnight, against a stealthy and unseen enemy.
Boys do not need to be taught to admire the bold rush on the enemies'
position, the brilliant and audacious passage through the narrow
channel under the guns of masked batteries, the lonely march into
Central Africa, the dash to the North Pole; they do need to be taught
the heroism of those who give the hero his sword and then go home
to wait for his return; who leave the stockade unarmed and, under a
fire of poisoned arrows, run to the springs for water for a thirsting
garrison; who quietly stay at their posts and as quietly die
without the inspiration of dramatic achievement or of the heart-felt
applause of spectators; who bear heavy burdens without a chance to
drop or change them; who are heroically patient under blighting
disappointments and are loyal to those who are disloyal to them; who
bear terrible wrongs in silence, and conceal the cowardice of those
they love and cover their retreat with a smiling courage which is the
very soul of the pathos of unavailing heroism and undeserved failure.
From the days of Esther, Judith and Antigone to those of Florence
Nightingale, women have shown every kind of courage that men have
shown, faced every kind of peril that men have braved, divided with
men the dangers and hardships of heroism but have never had an equal
share of recognition and applause. So far as they are concerned this
lack of equal public reward has been of small consequence; the best of
them have not only not cared for it, but have shunned it. It is well
to remember that the noblest heroes have never sought applause; and
that popularity is much more dangerous to heroes than the foes they
faced or the savage conditions they mastered in the splendid hour of
daring achievement. Many heroes have been betrayed by popularity into
vanity and folly and have lost at home the glory they won abroad.
Heroic women have not cared for public recognition and do not need it;
but it is of immense importance to society that the ideals of heroism
should be high and true, and that the soldier and the explorer should
not be placed above those whose achievements have been less dramatic,
but of a finer quality. The women who have shown heroic courage,
heroic patience, heroic purity and heroic devotion outrank the men
whose deeds have had their inspiration in physical bravery, who have
led splendid charges in full view of the world, who have achieved
miracles of material construction in canal or railroad, or the
reclaiming of barbarous lands to the uses of civilization. In a true
scale of heroic living and doing women must be counted more heroic
than men.
A writer of varied and brilliant talent and of a generous and gallant
spirit was asked at a dinner table, one evening not many years ago,
why no women appeared in his stories. He promptly replied that he
admired pluck above all other qualities, that he was timid by nature
and had won courage at the point of danger, and cared for it as the
most splendid of manly qualities. There happened to be a woman present
who bore the name of one of the most daring men of the time, and who
knew army life intimately. She made no comment and offered no
objection to the implication of the eminent writer's incautious
statement; but presently she began, in a very quiet tone, to describe
the incidents of her experience in army posts and on the march, and
every body listened intently as she went on narrating story after
story of the pluck and indifference to danger of women on the frontier
posts and, in some instances, on the march. The eminent writer
remained silent, but the moment the woman withdrew from the table he
was eager to know who the teller of these stories of heroism was and
how she had happened upon such remarkable experiences; and it was
noted that a woman appeared in his next novel!
The stories in this volume have been collected from many sources in
the endeavour to illustrate the wide range of heroism in the lives of
brave and noble women, and with the hope that these records of
splendid or quiet courage will open the eyes of young readers to the
many forms which heroism wears, and furnish a more spiritual scale of
heroic qualities.
HAMILTON W. MABIE.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ALCESTIS. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church 3
II. ANTIGONE. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church 18
III. IPHIGENIA. Adapted from "Stories from the Greek
Tragedians," by the Rev. Alfred J. Church 33
IV. PAULA. Written and adapted from "The Makers of Modern
Rome," by Mrs. Oliphant, "Martyrs and Saints of the
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CRITICAL, HISTORICAL, AND MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS
By
Lord Macaulay
With A Memoir And Index
In Six Volumes.
Vol. II.
New York: Published By Sheldon And Company.
1860
[Illustration: 0007]
ESSAYS.
MILL ON GOVERNMENT.(1)
(_Edinburgh Review_, March 1829.)
Of {5}those philosophers who call themselves Utilitarians, and whom
others generally call Benthamites, Mr. Mill is, with the exception of
the illustrious founder of the sect, by far the most distinguished. The
little work now before us contains a summary of the opinions held by
this gentleman and his brethren on several subjects most important to
society. All the seven essays of which it consists abound in curious
matter. But at present we intend to confine our remarks to the Treatise
on Government, which stands first in the volume. On some future
occasion, we may perhaps attempt to do justice to the rest.
It must be owned that to do justice to any composition of Mr. Mill is
not, in the opinion of his admirers, a very easy task. They do not,
indeed, place him in the same rank with Mr. Bentham; but the terms in
which they extol the disciple, though feeble when compared with the
hyperboles of adoration employed by
(1) _Essays on Government, Jurisprudence, the Liberty of the
Press, Prisons and Prison Discipline, Colonies, the Law of
Nations, and Education_, By James Mill, Esq., author of the
History of British India. Reprinted by permission from the
Supplement to the Encyclopædia Britannica. (Not for sale.)
London, 1828.
{6}them in speaking of the master, are as strong as any sober man would
allow himself to use concerning Locke or Bacon. The essay before us
is perhaps the most remarkable of the works to which Mr. Mill owes
his fame. By the members of his sect | 1,741.55713 |
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 107.
JUNE 21, 1894.
* * * * *
A RIVERSIDE LAMENT.
In my garden, where the rose
By the hundred gaily blows,
And the river freshly flows
Close to me,
I can spend the summer day
In a quite idyllic way;
Simply charming, you would say,
Could you see.
I am far from stuffy town,
Where the soots meander down,
And the air seems--being brown--
Close to me.
I am far from rushing | 1,741.613345 |
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Transcriber's Note:
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal
signs=. For readability, all small caps formatted text was not
converted to ALL CAPS. *.* is an asterism.
[Illustration: CABINET AQUARIUM.]
THE BOOK
OF
THE AQUARIUM
AND
WATER CABINET;
OR
Practical Instructions
ON THE FORMATION, STOCKING, AND MANAGEMENT, IN ALL
SEASONS, OF COLLECTIONS OF FRESH WATER AND
MARINE LIFE:
BY SHIRLEY HIBBERD,
AUTHOR OF "RUSTIC ADORNMENTS FOR HOMES OF TASTE," &c., &c.
LONDON:
G | 1,741.678933 |
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A CHRISTMAS ACCIDENT
AND OTHER STORIES
[Illustration]
BY
ANNIE ELIOT TRUMBULL
A Christmas Accident
STORIES BY
ANNIE ELIOT TRUMBULL
[Illustration: Leaf]
A CHRISTMAS ACCIDENT AND OTHER
STORIES. 16mo. Cloth $1.00
ROD'S SALVATION AND OTHER STORIES.
16mo. Cloth 1.00
A CAPE COD WEEK. 16mo. Cloth 1.00
MISTRESS CONTENT CRADOCK.
Cloth. 16mo. 1.00
[Illustration: Leaf]
A. S. BARNES & CO., PUBLISHERS,
_New York_.
A Christmas Accident
_And Other Stories_
By
Annie Eliot Trumbull
Author of "White Birches," "A Masque of Culture," etc.
[Illustration: Emblem]
New York
A. S. Barnes and Company
1900
_Copyright, 1897_,
BY A. S. BARNES AND COMPANY.
=University Press:=
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
OF the stories included in this volume, the first originally appeared in
the _Hartford Courant_; "After--the Deluge," in the _Atlantic Monthly_;
"Mary A. Twining," in the _Home Maker_; "A Postlude" and "Her Neighbor's
Landmark," in the _Outlook_; "The 'Daily Morning Chronicle,'" in _The
New England Magazine_; and "Hearts Unfortified," in _McClure's
Magazine_. To the courtesy of the editors of these periodicals I am
indebted for permission to reprint them.
A. E. T.
Contents
Page
A CHRISTMAS ACCIDENT 1
AFTER--THE DELUGE 32
MEMOIR OF MARY TWINING 67
A POSTLUDE 99
THE "DAILY MORNING CHRONICLE" 139
HEARTS UNFORTIFIED 177
HER NEIGHBOR'S LANDMARK 210
A Christmas Accident
[Illustration: Leaf]
AT first the two yards were as much alike as the two houses, each house
being the exact copy of the other. They were just two of those little
red brick dwellings that one is always seeing side by side in the
outskirts of a city, and looking as if the occupants must be alike too.
But these two families were quite different. Mr. Gilton, who lived in
one, was a pretty cross sort of man, and was quite well-to-do, as cross
people sometimes are. He and his wife lived alone, and they did not have
much going out and coming in, either. Mrs. Gilton would have liked more
of it, but she had given up thinking about it, for her husband had said
so many times that it was women's tomfoolery to want to have people,
whom you weren't anything to and who weren't anything to you, ringing
your doorbell all the time and bothering around in your
dining-room,--which of course it was; and she would have believed it if
a woman ever did believe anything a man says a great many times.
In the other house there were five children, and, as Mr. Gilton said,
they made too large a family, and they ought to have gone somewhere
else. Possibly they would have gone | 1,741.729076 |
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VOL. XXXIII. NO. 5.
THE
AMERICAN MISSIONARY.
* * * * *
“To the Poor the Gospel is Preached.”
* * * * *
MAY, 1879.
_CONTENTS_:
EDITORIAL.
PARAGRAPHS 129
THE LAND—ITS WEALTH AND ITS WANT 130
WAR OR MISSIONS 132
THE <DW64> HEGIRA 133
WOMAN’S WORK FOR WOMAN—CONGREGATIONALISM IN THE SOUTH 135
ITEMS FROM THE FIELD 137
GENERAL NOTES 138
THE FREEDMEN.
TOUR INTO THE SOUTHWEST: Rev. J. E. Roy, D. D. 140
GEORGIA, ATLANTA—Lady Missionary Needed 143
ALABAMA, MONTGOMERY—Tenantry, Promising Field, &c.: Rev.
F. Bascom, D. D. 143
ALABAMA, MOBILE | 1,741.801997 |
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REMARKS
By BILL NYE.
(EDGAR W. NYE.)
Ah Sin was his name;
And I shall not deny,
In regard to the same,
What the name might imply:
But his smile it was pensive and childlike,
As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.
--Bret Harte.
With over one hundred and fifty illustrations,
by J.H. SMITH.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Bill Nye]
DIRECTIONS.
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.
I cannot be responsible for the board of orphans whose parents read this
book and leave their children in destitute circumstances.
Bill Nye
CONTENTS.
About Geology
About Portraits
A Bright Future for Pugilism
Absent Minded
A Calm
Accepting the Laramie Postoffice
A Circular
A Collection of Keys
A Convention
A Father's Advice to his Son
A Father's Letter
A Goat in a Frame
A Great Spiritualist
A Great Upheaval
A Journalistic Tenderfoot
A Letter of Regrets
All About Menials
All About Oratory
Along Lake Superior
A Lumber Camp
A Mountain Snowstorm
Anatomy
Anecdotes of Justice
Anecdotes of the Stage
A New Autograph Album
A New Play
An Operatic Entertainment
Answering an Invitation
Answers to Correspondents
A Peaceable Man
A Picturesque Picnic
A Powerful Speech
Archimedes
A Resign
Arnold Winkelreid
Asking for a Pass
A Spencerian Ass
Astronomy
A Thrilling Experience
A Wallula Night
B. Franklin, Deceased
Biography of Spartacus
Boston Common and Environs
Broncho Sam
Bunker Hill
Care of House Plants
Catching a Buffalo
Causes for Thanksgiving
Chinese Justice
Christopher Columbus
Come Back
Concerning Book Publishing
Concerning Coroners
Crowns and Crowned Heads
Daniel Webster
Dessicated Mule
Dogs and Dog Days
Doosedly Dilatory
"Done It A-Purpose"
Down East Rum
Dr. Dizart's Dog
Drunk in a Plug Hat
Early Day Justice
Eccentricities of Genius
Eccentricity in Lunch
Etiquette at Hotels
Every Man His Own Paper-Hanger
Extracts from a Queen's Diary
Farming in Maine
Favored a Higher Fine
Fifteen Years Apart
Flying Machines
General Sheridan's Horse
George the Third
Great Sacrifice of Bric-a-Brac
Habits of a Literary Man
"Heap Brain"
History of Babylon
Hours With Great Men
How Evolution Evolves
In Acknowledgment
Insomnia in Domestic Animals
In Washington
"I Spy"
I Tried Milling
John Adams
John Adams' Diary
John Adams' Diary, (No. 2.)
John Adams' Diary, (No. 3.)
Knights of the Pen
Letter from New York
Letter to a Communist
Life Insurance as a Health Restorer
Literary Freaks
Lost Money
Lovely Horrors
Man Overbored
Mark Antony
Milling in Pompeii
Modern Architecture
More Paternal Correspondence
Mr. Sweeney's Cat
Murray and the Mormons
Mush and Melody
My Dog
My Experience as an Agriculturist
My Lecture Abroad
My Mine
My Physician
My School Days
Nero
No More Frontier
On Cyclones
One Kind of Fool
Our Forefathers
Parental Advice
Petticoats at the Polls
Picnic Incidents
Plato
Polygamy as a Religious Duty
Preventing a Scandal
Railway Etiquette
Recollections of Noah Webster
Rev. Mr. Hallelujah's Hoss
Roller Skating
Rosalinde
Second Letter to the President
She Kind of Coaxed Him
Shorts
Sixty Minutes in America
Skimming the Milky Way
Somnambulism and Crime
Spinal Meningitis
Spring
Squaw Jim
Squaw Jim's Religion
Stirring Incidents at a Fire
Strabismus and Justice
Street Cars and Curiosities
Taxidermy
The Amateur Carpenter
The Approaching Humorist
The Arabian Language
The Average Hen
The Bite of a Mad Dog
The Blase Young Man
The Board of Trade
The Cell Nest
The Chinese God
The Church Debt
The Cow Boy
The Crops
The Duke of Rawhide
The Expensive Word
The Heyday of Life
The Holy Terror
The Indian Orator
The Little Barefoot Boy
The Miner at Home
The Newspaper
The Old South
The Old Subscriber
The Opium Habit
The Photograph Habit
The Poor Blind Pig
The Sedentary Hen
The Silver Dollar
The Snake Indian
The Story of a Struggler
The Wail of a Wife
The Warrior's Oration
The Ways of Doctors
The Weeping Woman
The Wild Cow
They Fell
Time's Changes
To a Married Man
To an Embryo Poet
To Her Majesty
To The President-Elect
Twombley's Tale
Two Ways of Telling It
Venice
Verona
"We"
What We Eat
Woman's Wonderful Influence
Woodtick William's Story
Words About Washington
Wrestling With the Mazy
"You Heah Me, Sah!"
[Illustration: WE WERE NOT ON TERMS OF INTIMACY.]
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 a while and wander around in the
starlight. I did 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 schooldays 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 year after year, trying to
do better, but most always failing to connect. The boys of Boston would do
well to study carefully my record and then--do differently.
Recollections of Noah Webster.
Mr. Webster, no doubt, had the best command of language of any American
author prior to our day. Those who have read his ponderous but rather
disconnected romance known as "Websters Unabridged Dictionary, or How One
Word Led on to Another." will agree with me that he was smart. Noah never
lacked for a word by which to express himself. He was a brainy man and a
good speller.
It would ill become me at this late day to criticise Mr. Webster's great
work--a work that is now in almost every library, school-room and counting
house in the land. It is a great book. I do believe that had Mr. Webster
lived he would have been equally fair in his criticism of my books.
I hate to compare my own works with those of Mr. Webster, because it may
seem egotistical in me to point out the good points in my literary labors;
but I have often heard it said, and so do not state it solely upon my own
responsibility, that Mr. Webster's book does not retain the interest of
the reader all the way through.
He has tried to introduce too many characters, and so we cannot follow
them all the way through. It is a good book to pick up and while away an
idle hour with, perhaps, but no one would cling to it at night till the
fire went out, chained to the thrilling plot and the glowing career of its
hero.
Therein consists the great difference between Mr. Webster and myself. A
friend of mine at Sing Sing once wrote me that from the moment he got hold
of my book, he never left his room till he finished it. He seemed chained
to the spot, he said, and if you can't believe a convict, who is entirely
out of politics, who in the name of George Washington can you believe?
Mr. Webster was most assuredly a brilliant writer, and I have discovered
in his later editions 118,000 words, no two of which are alike. This shows
great fluency and versatility, it is true, but we need something else. The
reader waits in vain to be thrilled by the author's wonderful word
painting. There is not a thrill in the whole tome. I had heard so much of
Mr. Webster that when I read his book I confess I was disappointed. It is
cold, methodical and dispassionate in the extreme.
As I said, however, it is a good book to pick up for the purpose of
whiling away an idle moment, and no one should start out on a long journey
without Mr. Webster's tale in his pocket. It has broken the monotony of
many a tedious trip for me.
Mr. Webster's "Speller" was a work of less pretentions, perhaps, and yet
it had an immense sale. Eight years ago this book had reached a sale of
40,000,000, and yet it had the same grave defect. It was disconnected,
cold, prosy and dull. I read it for years, and at last became a close
student of Mr. Webster's style, yet I never found but one thing in this
book, for which there seems to have been such a perfect stampede, that was
even ordinarily interesting, and that was a little gem. It was so
thrilling in its details, and so diametrically different from Mr.
Webster's style, that I have often wondered who he got to write it for
him. It related to the discovery of a boy by an elderly gentleman, in the
crotch of an ancestral apple tree, and the feeling of bitterness and
animosity that sprung up at the time between the boy and the elderly
gentleman.
Though I have been a close student of Mr. Webster for years, I am free to
say, and I do not wish to do an injustice to a great man in doing so, that
his ideas of literature and my own are entirely dissimilar. Possibly his
book has had a little larger sale than mine, but that makes no difference.
When I write a book it must engage the interest of the reader, and show
some plot to it. It must not be jerky in its style and scattering in its
statements.
I know it is a great temptation to write a book that will sell, but we
should have a higher object than that.
I do not wish to do an injustice to a man who has done so much for the
world, and one who could spell the longest word without hesitation, but I
speak of these things just as I would expect people to criticise my work.
If we aspire to monkey with the literati of our day we must expect to be
criticised. That's the way I look at it.
P.S.--I might also state that Noah Webster was a member of the
Legislature of Massachusetts at one time, and though I ought not to throw
it up to him at this date, I think it is nothing more than right that the
public should know the truth.
To Her Majesty.
To Queen Victoria, Regina Dei Gracia and acting mother-in-law on the side:
Dear Madame.--Your most gracious majesty will no doubt be surprised to hear
from me after my long silence. One reason that I have not written for some
time is that I had hoped to see you ere this, and not because I had grown
cold. I desire to congratulate you at this time upon your great success as
a mother-in-law, and your very exemplary career socially. As a queen you
have given universal satisfaction, and your family have married well.
[Illustration: ADVERTISING THE ENTERPRISE.]
But I desired more especially to write you in relation to another matter.
We are struggling here in America to establish an authors' international
copyright arrangement, whereby the authors of all civilized nations may be
protected in their rights to the profits of their literary labor, and the
movement so far has met with generous encouragement. As an author we
desire your aid and endorsement. Could you assist us? We are giving this
season a series of authors' readings in New York to aid in prosecuting the
work, and we would like to know whether we could not depend upon you to
take a part in these readings, rendering selections from your late work.
I assure your most gracious majesty that you would meet some of our best
literary people while here, and no pains would be spared to make your
visit a pleasant one, aside from the reading itself. We would advertise
your appearance extensively and get out a first-class audience on the
occasion of your debut here.
[Illustration: QUEEN VIC. READING.]
An effort would be made to provide passes for yourself, and reduced rates,
I think, could be secured for yourself and suite at the hotels. Of course
you could do as you thought best about bringing suite, however. Some of
us travel with our suites and some do not. I generally leave my suite at
home, myself.
You would not need to make any special change as to costume for the
occasion. We try to make it informal, so far as possible, and though some
of us wear full dress we do not make that obligatory on those who take a
part in the exercises. If you decide to wear your every-day reigning
clothes it will not excite comment on the part of our literati. We do not
judge an author or authoress by his or her clothes.
You will readily see that this will afford you an opportunity to appear
before some of the best people of New York, and at the same time you will
aid in a deserving enterprise.
It will also promote the sale of your book.
Perhaps you have all the royalty you want aside from what you may receive
from the sale of your works, but every author feels a pardonable pride in
getting his books into every household.
I would assure your most gracious majesty that your reception here as an
authoress will in no way suffer because you are an unnaturalized
foreigner. Any alien who feels a fraternal interest in the international
advancement of thought and the universal encouragement of the good, the
true and the beautiful in literature, will be welcome on these shores.
This is a broad land, and we aim to be a broad and cosmopolitan people.
Literature and free, willing genius are not hemmed in by State or national
linos. They sprout up and blossom under tropical skies no less than
beneath the frigid aurora borealis of the frozen North. We hail true merit
just as heartily and uproariously on a throne as we would anywhere else.
In fact, it is more deserving, if possible, for one who has never tried it
little knows how difficult it is to sit on a hard throne all day and write
well. We are to recognize struggling genius wherever it may crop out. It
is no small matter for an almost unknown monarch to reign all day and then
write an article for the press or a chapter for a serial story, only,
perhaps, to have it returned by the publishers. All these things are
drawbacks to a literary life, that we here in America know little of.
I hope your most gracious majesty will decide to come, and that you will
pardon this long letter. It will do you good to get out this way for a few
weeks, and I earnestly hope that you will decide to lock up the house and
come prepared to make quite a visit. We have some real good authors here
now in America, and we are not ashamed to show them to any one. They are
not only smart, but they are well behaved and know how to appear in
company. We generally read selections from our own works, and can have a
brass band to play between the selections, if thought best. For myself, I
prefer to have a full brass band accompany me while I read. The audience
also approves of this plan.
[Illustration: THE ACCOMPANIMENT.]
We have been having some very hot weather here for the past week, but it is
now cooler. Farmers are getting in their crops in good shape, but wheat is
still low in price, and cranberries are souring on the vines. All of our
canned red raspberries worked last week, and we had to can them over
again. Mr. Riel, who went into the rebellion business in Canada last
winter, will be hanged in September if it don't rain. It will be his first
appearance on the gallows, and quite a number of our leading American
criminals are going over to see his debut.
Hoping to hear from you by return mail or prepaid cablegram, I beg leave
to remain your most gracious and indulgent majesty's humble and obedient
servant.
Bill Nye.
Habits of a Literary Man.
The editor of an Eastern health magazine, having asked for information
relative to the habits, hours of work, and style and frequency of feed
adopted by literary men, and several parties having responded who were no
more essentially saturated with literature than I am, I now take my pen in
hand to reveal the true inwardness of my literary life, so that boys, who
may yearn to follow in my footsteps and wear a laurel wreath the year round
in place of a hat, may know what the personal habits of a literary party
are.
I rise from bed the first thing in the morning, leaving my couch not
because I am dissatisfied with it, but because I cannot carry it with me
during the day.
I then seat myself on the edge of the bed and devote a few moments to
thought. Literary men who have never set aside a few moments on rising for
thought will do well to try it.
I then insert myself into a pair of middle-aged pantaloons. It is needless
to say that girls who may have a literary tendency will find little to
interest them here.
Other clothing is added to the above from time to time. I then bathe
myself. Still this is not absolutely essential to a literary life. Others
who do not do so have been equally successful.
Some literary people bathe before dressing.
I then go down stairs and out to the barn, where I feed the horse. Some
literary men feel above taking care of a horse, because there is really
nothing in common between the care of a horse and literature, but
simplicity is my watchword. T. Jefferson would have to rise early in the
day to eclipse me in simplicity. I wish I had as many dollars as I have
got simplicity.
I then go in to breakfast. This meal consists almost wholly of food. I am
passionately fond of food, and I may truly say, with my hand on my heart,
that I owe much of my great success in life to this inward craving, this
constant yearning for something better.
During this meal I frequently converse with my family. I do not feel above
my family, at least, if I do, I try to conceal it as much as possible.
Buckwheat pancakes in a heated state, with maple syrup on the upper side,
are extremely conducive to literature. Nothing jerks the mental faculties
around with greater rapidity than buckwheat pancakes.
After breakfast the time is put in to good advantage looking forward to
the time when dinner will be ready. From 8 to 10 A. M., however, I
frequently retire to my private library hot-bed in the hay mow, and write
1,200 words in my forthcoming book, the price of which will be $2.50 in
cloth and $4 with Russia back.
I then play Copenhagen with some little girls 21 years of age, who live
near by, and of whom I am passionately fond.
After that I dig some worms, with a view to angling. I then angle. After
this I return home, waiting until dusk, however, as I do not like to
attract attention. Nothing is more distasteful to a truly good man of
wonderful literary acquirements, and yet with singular modesty, than the
coarse and rude scrutiny of the vulgar herd.
In winter I do not angle. I read the "Pirate Prince" or the "Missourian's
Mash," or some other work, not so much for the plot as the style, that I
may get my mind into correct channels of thought I then play "old sledge"
in a rambling sort of manner. I sometimes spend an evening at home, in
order to excite remark and draw attention to my wonderful eccentricity.
I do not use alcohol in any form, if I know it, though sometimes I am
basely deceived by those who know of my peculiar prejudice, and who do it,
too, because they enjoy watching my odd and amusing antics at the time.
Alcohol should be avoided entirely by literary workers, especially young
women. There can be no more pitiable sight to the tender hearted, than a
young woman of marked ability writing an obituary poem while under the
influence of liquor.
I knew a young man who was a good writer. His penmanship was very good,
indeed. He once wrote an article for the press while under the influence
of liquor. He sent it to the editor, who returned it at once with a cold
and cruel letter, every line of which was a stab. The letter came at a
time when he was full of remorse.
He tossed up a cent to see whether he should blow out his brains or go
into the ready-made clothing business. The coin decided that he should die
by his own hand, but his head ached so that he didn't feel like shooting
into it. So he went into the ready-made clothing business, and now he pays
taxes on $75,000, so he is probably worth $150,000. This, of course,
salves over his wounded heart, but he often says to me that he might have
been in the literary business to-day if he had let liquor alone.
A Father's Letter.
My dear son.--Your letter of last week reached us yesterday, and I enclose
$13, which is all I have by me at the present time. I may sell the other
shote next week and make up the balance of what you wanted. I will
probably have to wear the old buffalo overcoat to meetings again this
winter, but that don't matter so long as you are getting an education.
I hope you will get your education as cheap as you can, for it cramps your
mother and me like Sam Hill to put up the money. Mind you, I don't
complain. I knew education come high, but I didn't know the clothes cost
so like sixty.
I want you to be so that you can go anywhere and spell the hardest word. I
want you to be able to go among the Romans or the Medes and Persians and
talk to any of them in their own native tongue.
I never had any advantages when I was a boy, but your mother and I decided
that we would sock you full of knowledge, if your liver held out,
regardless of expense. We calculate to do it, only we want you to go as
slow on swallowtail coats as possible till we can sell our hay.
Now, regarding that boat-paddling suit, and that baseball suit, and that
bathing suit, and that roller-rinktum suit, and that lawn-tennis suit,
mind, I don't care about the expense, because you say a young man can't
really educate himself thoroughly without them, but I wish you'd send home
what you get through with this fall, and I'll wear them through the winter
under my other clothes. We have a good deal severer winters here than we
used to, or else I'm failing in bodily health. Last winter I tried to go
through without underclothes, the way I did when I was a boy, but a
Manitoba wave came down our way and picked me out of a crowd with its eyes
shet.
In your last letter you alluded to getting injured in a little "hazing
scuffle with a pelican from the rural districts." I don't want any harm to
come to you, my son, but if I went from the rural districts and another
young gosling from the rural districts undertook to haze me, I would meet
him when the sun goes down, and I would swat him across the back of the
neck with a fence board, and then I would meander across the pit of his
stomach and put a blue forget-me-not under his eye.
Your father aint much on Grecian mythology and how to get the square root
of a barrel of pork, but he wouldn't allow any educational institutions to
haze him with impunity. Perhaps you remember once when you tried to haze
your father a little, just to kill time, and how long it took you to
recover. Anybody that goes at it right can have a good deal of fun with
your father, but those who have sought to monkey with him, just to break
up the monotony of life, have most always succeeded in finding what they
sought.
[Illustration: RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE.]
I ain't much of a pensman, so you will have to excuse this letter. We are
all quite well, except old Fan, who has a galded shoulder, and hope this
will find you enjoying the same great blessing.
Your Father.
Archimedes.
Archimedes, whose given name has been accidentally torn off and swallowed
up in oblivion, was born in Syracuse, 2,171 years ago last spring. He was
a philosopher and mathematical expert. During his life he was never
successfully stumped in figures. It ill befits me now, standing by his
new-made grave, to say aught of him that is not of praise. We can only
mourn his untimely death, and wonder which of our little band of great men
will be the next to go.
Archimedes was the first to originate and use the word "Eureka." It has
been successfully used very much lately, and as a result we have the
Eureka baking powder, the Eureka suspender, the Eureka bed-bug buster, the
Eureka shirt, and the Eureka stomach bitters. Little did Archimedes wot,
when he invented this term, that it would come into such general use.
Its origin has been explained before, but it would not be out of place
here for me to tell it as I call it to mind now, looking back over
Archie's eventful life.
King Hiero had ordered an eighteen karat crown, size 7-1/8, and, after
receiving it from the hands of the jeweler, suspected that it had been
adulterated. He therefore applied to Archimedes to ascertain, if possible,
whether such was the case or not. Archimedes had just got in on No. 3, two
hours late, and covered with dust. He at once started for a hot and cold
bath emporium on Sixteenth street, meantime wondering how the dickens he
would settle that crown business.
He filled the bath-tub level full, and, piling up his raiment on the
floor, jumped in. Displacing a large quantity of water, equal to his own
bulk, he thereupon solved the question of specific gravity, and,
forgetting his bill, forgetting his clothes, he sailed up Sixteenth street
and all over Syracuse, clothed in shimmering sunlight and a plain gold
ring, shouting "Eureka!" He ran head-first into a Syracuse policeman and
howled "Eureka!" The policeman said: "You'll have to excuse me; I don't
know him." He scattered the Syracuse Normal school on its way home, and
tried to board a Fifteenth street bob-tail car, yelling "Eureka!" The
car-driver told him that Eureka wasn't on the car, and referred Archimedes
to a clothing store.
Everywhere he was greeted with surprise. He tried to pay his car-fare, but
found that he had left his money in his other clothes.
Some thought it was the revised statute of Hercules; that he had become
weary of standing on his pedestal during the hot weather, and had started
out for fresh air. I give this as I remember it. The story is foundered on
fact.
Archimedes once said: "Give me where I may stand, and I will move the
world." I could write it in the original Greek, but, fearing that the
nonpareil delirium tremens type might get short, I give it in the English
language.
It may be tardy justice to a great mathematician and scientist, but I have
a few resolutions of respect which I would be very glad to get printed on
this solemn occasion, and mail copies of the paper to his relatives and
friends:
"WHEREAS, It has pleased an All-wise Providence to remove from our midst
Archimedes, who was ever at the front in all deserving labors and
enter | 1,741.802526 |
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Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tom Allen and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.
DR. JOHNSON'S WORKS.
REVIEWS, POLITICAL TRACTS,
AND
LIVES OF EMINENT PERSONS.
THE WORKS OF
SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.
IN NINE VOLUMES.
VOLUME THE SIXTH.
MDCCCXXV.
CONTENTS OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.
REVIEWS.
Letter on Du Halde's history of China.
Review of the account of the conduct of the dutchess of Marlborough.
Review of memoirs of the court of Augustus.
Review of four letters from sir Isaac Newton.
Review of a journal of eight days' journey.
Reply to a paper in the Gazetteer.
Review of an essay on the writings and genius of Pope.
Review of a free enquiry into the nature and origin of evil.
Review of the history of the Royal Society of London, &c.
Review of the general history of Polybius.
Review of misc | 1,741.803583 |
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Produced by Chris Curnow, Mark Young and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: HEAD OF ROYAL BENGAL TIGER. MOUNTED BY THE AUTHOR.]
TAXIDERMY
AND
ZOOLOGICAL COLLECTING
_A COMPLETE HANDBOOK FOR THE AMATEUR TAXIDERMIST,
COLLECTOR, OSTEOLOGIST, MUSEUM-B | 1,741.817361 |
2023-11-16 18:46:05.9477810 | 4,344 | 8 |
Produced by Chuck Greif, ellinora, Bryan Ness 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.)
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
RIDING: ON THE FLAT AND ACROSS COUNTRY.
A Guide to Practical Horsemanship. Third Edition. Illustrated by
STURGESS. Square 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._
_The Standard._--“A master of his subject.”
VETERINARY NOTES FOR HORSE OWNERS.
A Popular Manual of Veterinary Surgery and Medicine. Fourth Edition.
Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._
_The Field._--“Of the many popular veterinary books which have come
under our notice, this is certainly one of the most scientific and
reliable.”
TRAINING AND HORSE MANAGEMENT IN INDIA.
Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._
_The Veterinary Journal._--“No better guide could be placed in the hands
of either amateur horseman or veterinary surgeon.”
SOUNDNESS AND AGE OF HORSES. Over 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 8_s._
6_d._
_The Field._--“Is evidently the result of much careful research, and the
horseman, as well as the veterinarian, will find in it much that is
interesting and instructive.”
INDIAN RACING REMINISCENCES. Illustrated by I. KNOX FERGUSSON. Crown.
8vo. 8_s._ 6_d._
_The Field._--“The last page comes all too soon.”
THE STUDENT’S MANUAL OF TACTICS. Crown 8vo. 6_s._
_The Times._--“Captain Hayes’s book deals exclusively with tactics, and
is a well-considered treatise on that branch of the art of war, giving
not merely rules, but, also, principles and reason.”
ILLUSTRATED
HORSE BREAKING.
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED
HORSE BREAKING.
BY
CAPT. M. HORACE HAYES,
LATE OF ‘THE BUFFS.’
AUTHOR OF “RIDING: ON THE FLAT AND ACROSS COUNTRY;”
“VETERINARY NOTES FOR HORSE OWNERS;”
“RACING REMINISCENCES IN INDIA;”
“TRAINING AND HORSE MANAGEMENT IN INDIA,” ETC.
Fifty-two Illustrations by
J. H. OSWALD BROWN.
LONDON:
W. THACKER & CO., 87, NEWGATE STREET.
CALCUTTA: THACKER, SPINK & CO.
BOMBAY: THACKER & CO. LIMITED
1889.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--THEORY OF HORSE-BREAKING 1
II.--PRINCIPLES OF MOUTHING 41
III.--HORSE-CONTROL 77
IV.--RENDERING HORSES DOCILE 147
V.--GIVING HORSES GOOD MOUTHS 166
VI.--TEACHING HORSES TO JUMP 188
VII.--MOUNTING HORSES FOR THE FIRST TIME 197
VIII.--BREAKING HORSES FOR LADIES’ RIDING 209
IX.--BREAKING HORSES TO HARNESS 212
X.--FAULTS OF MOUTH 216
XI.--NERVOUSNESS AND IMPATIENCE OF CONTROL 222
XII.--JIBBING IN SADDLE 227
XIII.--JUMPING FAULTS 230
XIV.--VICES IN HARNESS 233
XV.--AGGRESSIVENESS 242
XVI.--RIDING AND DRIVING THE NEWLY-BROKEN HORSE 247
XVII.--STABLE VICES 251
XVIII.--TEACHING THE HORSE TRICKS 259
XIX.--TESTING A HORSE’S MANNERS, MOUTH, AND TEMPER 271
XX.--ON IMPROVISED GEAR 272
APPENDIX 274
ILLUSTRATIONS.
FIG. PAGE
1.--HORSE BENDING HIS NECK TO THE REIN WITHOUT SWINGING
ROUND HIS HIND-QUARTERS AT THE SAME TIME, IN
ANSWER TO THE PULL 58
2.--SHEWS HORSE HAVING ANSWERED THE PULL OF OFF REIN
AS HE SHOULD, AND CONSEQUENTLY COMING STRAIGHT
AT HIS FENCE 61
3.--THE PROPER LENGTH FOR A STANDING MARTINGALE 70
4.--FIRST LOOP IN FORMING A HALTER 79
5.--SECOND STEP IN FORMING A ROPE HALTER 79
6.--ROPE-HALTER ON POLE, READY FOR USE 82
7.--HALTING VICIOUS HORSE WITH ROPE-HALTER ON POLE 83
8.--PRATT’S METHOD OF HALTERING 87
9.--NOOSING A FORE-LEG 90
10.--PULLING UP A FORE-LEG WHEN NOOSED 91
11.--PICKING UP A FORE-LEG 95
12.--HOW TO HOLD UP A FORE-LEG 97
13.--RAREY’S LEG-STRAP 100
14.--TYING UP FORE-LEG WITH STIRRUP LEATHER 101
15.--THE BEST METHOD OF FASTENING UP A FORE-LEG 103
16.--A STIRRUP LEATHER AS USED FOR HOLDING UP A FORE-LEG 106
17.--THE HALTER-TWITCH 109
18.--DO. DO. 110
19.--PRATT’S ROPE-TWITCH, FIRST PORTION 114
20.--PRATT’S TWITCH COMPLETED 115
21.--PRATT’S TWITCH ON HORSE’S HEAD, AND TIGHTENED AT
WORD “STEADY” 116
22.--HEAD-STALL TWITCH ON HORSE 117
23.--THE BRIDLE-TWITCH, FRONT AND NEAR-SIDE VIEW 119
24.--THE BRIDLE-TWITCH, OFF-SIDE VIEW 120
25.--THE STRAIGHT-JACKET 122
26.--HORSE WITH STRAIGHT-JACKET ON 123
27.--PICKING UP A HIND-LEG 127
28.--FIRST STEP IN PICKING UP A HIND-LEG WITHOUT THE
ASSISTANCE OF A HELPER 130
29.--SECOND STEP IN PICKING UP A HIND-LEG WITHOUT THE
ASSISTANCE OF A HELPER 133
30.--SHEWING HOW TO FASTEN A ROPE TO THE END OF HORSE’S
TAIL WITH A “DOUBLE SHEET BEND” 136
31.--HIND HOOF HELD UP BY TWO ASSISTANTS WITH ROPE FROM
TAIL 137
32.--LEG PULLED BACK WITH ONE ROPE, A METHOD TO BE
AVOIDED, AS THROWING THE HORSE OFF HIS BALANCE 139
33.--MODE OF FASTENING A ROPE TO A SHORT TAIL 140
34.--SHORT-TAILED HORSE WITH ROPES ATTACHED TO TAIL 141
35.--IMPROVISED HOBBLE MADE WITH A STIRRUP IRON 144
36.--WOODEN GAG 145
37.--CRUPPER LEADING REIN 149
38.--THROWING A HORSE BY MEANS OF PULLING HIS HEAD
ROUND WITH A ROPE 155
39.--HORSE WITH HIS HEAD PULLED ROUND WHEN THROWN 159
40.--BEST METHOD OF KEEPING A HORSE ON THE GROUND THAT
HAS FALLEN IN HARNESS 163
41.--HORSE WITH DRIVING GEAR ON 168
42.--HORSE WITH DRIVING PAD ON, NEW MODEL 169
43.--BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF POSITION OF DRIVER 175
44.--DRIVING ON FOOT 184
45.--DO. DO. 185
46.--HORSE PREPARED TO BE MOUNTED FOR THE FIRST TIME 200
47.--SECONG STAGE IN BREAKING A HORSE FOR RIDING 201
48.--PULLING KICKER’S HEAD ROUND IN STALL 253
49.--TAIL TIED WITH TAPES TO PREVENT HORSE RUBBING IT 257
50.--COMMANCHE BRIDLE, OFF SIDE 262
51.--COMMANCHE BRIDLE, NEAR SIDE 263
52.--THE KNOT ON OFF SIDE OF COMMANCHE BRIDLE ENLARGED 264
PREFACE.
I offer this work to the favourable consideration of the public, as an
attempt to describe a reasoned-out system of horse-breaking, which I
have found, by practical experience, to be easy of execution, rapid in
its effects, and requiring the possession of no exceptional strength,
activity, pluck, or horsemanship by the operator, who, to become expert
in it, will, as a rule, need only practice. It is in accordance with our
English and Irish ideas on the subject; for it aims at teaching the
horse “manners,” and giving him a snaffle-bridle mouth; so that he will
“go up to the bridle,” and “bend” himself in thorough obedience to rein
and leg.
As a personal explanation, I may mention that after having spent many
years racing and training in India, during which time I practised the
ordinary methods of breaking, I returned to England, where I learned the
use of the standing martingale and long driving reins, as applied
specially to jumpers, from Mr. John Hubert Moore, who was the cleverest
“maker” of steeplechasers Ireland ever knew. He, I may remark, obtained
these methods, in his youth, from an old Irish breaker, named Fallon,
who was born more than a century ago. I had also valuable instruction in
“horse taming” from Professor Sample. Having read an account of MM.
Raabe and Lunel’s “_hippo-lasso_,” as a means of control for veterinary
operations, I conceived, with happy results, the idea of utilising this
ingenious contrivance in breaking. I also learned, about the same time,
how to halter a loose horse without running any danger of being kicked,
or bitten.
Having thus acquired a fair amount of information, on what has always
been to me a favourite subject, I naturally wished to put it into
practice.
As I knew, judging from my former ignorance, how much men in India stood
in need of instruction in horse-breaking, I determined to return to that
country with the object of teaching this art; so as to acquire the
experience I needed, and to “pay my expenses” at the same time. I am
glad to say that I was successful in both respects. During a two years’
tour, I held classes at all the principal stations of the Empire--from
Tricinopoly to Peshawur, and from Quetta to Mandalay--and, having met a
very large number of vicious animals and fine horsemen, I obtained
experience, and greatly added to my stock of knowledge, which I shall
now try to utilise for the benefit of my readers. As I proceeded through
India, I felt the necessity of rejecting some methods I had formerly
prized, altering others, and adopting new ones; so that the course of
instruction which I was able to give to my more recent classes, was far
more extensive, and of better proved utility, than what I had to offer
at the beginning of my travels. The great want which I had, at first,
felt was a method by which a person could secure and handle, with
perfect safety, any horse, no matter how vicious he might be. However,
after many kicks, a few bites, and several lucky escapes, I was able to
perfect the required method, which is so simple, that the only wonder is
that I did not think of it before. I may explain that the Australian
horses met with in India, where they form a considerable proportion of
the animals used for riding and driving, are far more dangerous and
difficult to handle and control, than British stock. Had I remained in
England all my life, I should not have acquired a quarter of the
experience of vicious horses I was afforded, during the time I lately
spent in India. It goes almost without saying, that the harder the
pupil is to teach, the greater chance has the instructor of becoming
expert in his business. I need hardly say, that I shall, always, be very
grateful to any of my readers who may favour me with special information
on this, or kindred subjects.
I may mention, that, after returning from India, I held classes in
England, Gibraltar, Malta, Egypt, Ceylon, Singapore, and China.
I have much pleasure in giving, in the body of this work, the sources
from which I have taken various hints.
The chief claim I, here, make to originality, is, that in bringing
together the results of experience in different countries, I have
endeavoured to reduce the art of breaking horses to a more or less
complete system, many of the principles of which, I venture to think, I
have been the first to expound, and that I have made several
improvements in existing methods. The new things which I have introduced
need no special mention here.
My best thanks are due to Mr. J. H. Oswald Brown, for the faithful and
painstaking manner in which he has illustrated the letter-press of this
book. The drawings speak for themselves.
Although I am aware that the proceeding on my part may be deemed
unusual; still, in order to strengthen my words, I have ventured to
submit to my readers, in an appendix, the recorded opinions of various
members of my classes on the practical working of the theories and
methods described in this book.
I shall, at all times, be ready to give practical instruction to persons
wishing to learn this art of making the horse a safe, and pleasant
conveyance.
JUNIOR ARMY AND NAVY CLUB,
ST. JAMES’S STREET, LONDON. S.W.
_January 1, 1889._
ILLUSTRATED HORSE-BREAKING.
CHAPTER I.
THEORY OF HORSE-BREAKING.
Object of horse-breaking--Causes of faults which can be remedied by
breaking--Vice in the horse--Distinction between nervousness and
deliberate vice--Mental qualities of the horse--Association of
ideas in breaking--Value and scope of breaking--On the possibility
of overcoming any form of vice--Necessity for obtaining control
over the horse--On the nature of the coercion to be applied to
unruly horses--Punishment--Fatigue as a means of
subjugation--Effect of the voice--Personal influence in
breaking--Advisability of possessing various methods of breaking--A
good mouth, the chief requirement--Permanency in the effects of
breaking--Expedition in breaking--The ordinary method of
breaking--Breaking by kindness alone--The rough and ready style of
breaking--Summary of the principles of the art of rendering horses
docile.
_The object of horse-breaking_ is to teach the animal to obey the orders
of his master in the best possible manner. Hence, this art includes
instruction in the advantageous application of his powers, as well as
methods for rendering him docile.
* * * * *
_Causes of faults which can be remedied by breaking are_:--1.
Nervousness; or the unnecessary fear of the presence or handling of man,
or of the effect of any of the horse’s other surroundings, which,
however startling they might be to him in a wild state, he can find by
experience will not hurt him.
2. Impatience of control, which frequently co-exists with nervousness,
in the same animal.
3. Ignorance of the meaning of the indications used by man to convey his
wishes to the horse.
4. Deliberate disobedience. There is no doubt that sulkiness of temper
is, often, inherited.
5. Active hostility, which, as far as my experience goes, is, always,
the result of bad treatment, whether brought on by cruelty, or by
allowing a naturally fractious animal to get the upper hand.
It is evident that vices caused by disease, or infirmity, do not come
within the province of the breaker.
6. The fact of having been taught some trick--for instance, kicking when
touched behind the saddle--the practice of which constitutes a vice.
* * * * *
_Vice in the Horse_, from a breaking point of view, may be held to
signify the practice, on the part of the animal towards man, of
disobedience--wilful or otherwise--of any legitimate command; or want of
docility.
* * * * *
_The distinction between nervousness and deliberate vice_ may be easily
made, if we observe how a horse acts after we have proved to him that he
need have no fear of us. For instance, if we fix up a horse, say, in a
“strait-jacket,” (see page 118) so that he cannot kick, and continue to
“gentle” him over with our hand, until he is thoroughly assured of the
good faith of our intentions; we might justly term him a vicious brute
if he kicked at us, without our touching him, the moment the restraint
was removed. I may mention, in this connection, that fear of the near
approach of man will often induce a purely nervous animal to kick out,
if a person, and especially a stranger, ventures to come within reach.
Although we may frequently find a horse kick from nervousness, he will
rarely bite from that cause alone. As a verbal distinction between
faults due to deliberate vice, and those caused by fear of man, or of
the animal’s strange surroundings, would not, generally, be understood
at first glance, I need not attempt to make it in these pages.
The more experience I acquire in the breaking of horses, the more
convinced I become, that the so-called “nervousness” of animals that
have been handled some time, is largely made up of impatience of
control, and, in many cases, of active hostility. Without, for a moment,
imputing intentional deceit to a “nervous” “old stager,” I make bold to
assert that many crafty, dangerous brutes pose before their owners as
ill-used victims of a too highly strung nervous system. Take, for
instance, an aged horse, like many I have met, that snorts with apparent
terror at anyone that approaches him, and is ready, on the slightest
chance of reaching his mark, to strike out in front, or lash out from
behind, if saddling or mounting him be attempted. His nervous emotion,
the first time he was taken in hand, or the first time he began his
unpleasant tricks, may have been thoroughly genuine; but its exhibition
was evidently attended with the result of his more or less successfully
resisting control. This act of insubordination having revealed to the
horse the extent of his own power, which, to every animal, is a
pleasurable sensation, was naturally repeated again and again, until the
vicious habit was confirmed; although its necessity might have been,
scores and scores of times, disproved by the saddling or mounting
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CAPRICIOUS CAROLINE
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Susannah and One Other
Love and Louisa
Peter a Parasite
The Blunder of an Innocent
CAPRICIOUS CAROLINE
BY
E. MARIA ALBANESI
"GOD HAS A FEW OF US WHOM
HE WHISPERS IN THE EAR"
BROWNING
SECOND EDITION
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
_First Published_... _September, 1904_
_Second Edition_ ... _May, 1905_
This story originally appeared in the Weekly Edition of _The Times_,
and is now issued in book form by arrangement with the proprietors of
that journal.
TO
THE LADY AILEEN WYNDHAM-QUIN
CAPRICIOUS CAROLINE
CHAPTER 1
As the large motor swung along with the easy velocity and assurance of
some enormous bird, Camilla Lancing nestled more cosily into the warmth
of her fur wraps.
Rupert Haverford was driving, and he looked back every now and then to
see if his guest was comfortable | 1,741.998379 |
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PLEASING
POETRY AND PICTURES:
FOR THE
MIND AND THE EYE.
[Illustration]
Here’s a pretty new Book, full of verses to sing,
And Mary can read it--oh, what a fine thing;
Then such pretty verses, and pictures too, look!
Oh, I’m glad I can read such a beautiful book.
NEW HAVEN.
PUBLISHED BY S. BABCOCK.
1849.
[Illustration: THE BEE-HIVE.]
PLEASING
POETRY AND PICTURES.
[Illustration]
The Little Busy Bee.
_An Example of Industry, for Young Children._
How doth the little busy Bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower?
How skilfully she builds her cell,--
How neat she spreads her wax,
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labor, or of skill,
I must be busy too,
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.
[Illustration]
The Dead Bird.
_What we call Sport is too often Cruelty._
Ah! there it falls, and now ’tis dead!
The shot went thro’ its pretty head,
And broke its shining wing?
How dull and dim its closing eyes;
How cold, and stiff, and still it lies!
Poor harmless little thing!
It was a lark, and in the sky,
In mornings fine, it mounted high,
To sing a pretty song;
Cutting the fresh and healthy air,
It whistled out its music there,
As light it skimmed along.
How little thought its pretty breast,
This morning, when it left its nest
Hid in the springing corn,
To find some breakfast for its young,
And pipe away its morning song,
It never should return.
[Illustration: THE DEAD BIRD.]
Those pretty wings shall never more
Its tender nestlings cover o’er,
Or bring them dainties rare:
But long with gaping beaks they’ll cry,
And then they will with hunger die,
All in the open air!
Poor little bird! If people knew
The sorrows little birds go through,
I think that even boys
Would never call it sport and fun
To stand and fire a frightful gun,
For nothing but the noise.
[Illustration]
My Kind Mother.
_A Dutiful Child is the Joy of its Parents._
I must not tease my mother,
For she is very kind;
And every thing she says to me,
I must directly mind;
For when I was a baby,
And could not speak or walk,
She let me in her bosom sleep,
And taught me how to talk.
I must not tease my mother;
And when she likes to read,
Or has the headache, I will step
Most silently, indeed.
I will not choose a noisy play,
Or trifling troubles tell;
But sit down quiet by her side,
And try to make her well.
I must not tease my mother;
I have heard my father say,
When I was in my cradle sick,
She tended me all day.
She lays me in my little bed,
She gives me clothes and food,
And I have nothing else to pay,
But trying to be good.
I must not tease my mother;
She loves me all the day,
And she has patience with my faults,
And teaches me to pray;
How much I’ll strive to please her
She every hour shall see,
For, should she go away, or die,
What would become of me!
[Illustration]
Good Night.
_Little Children should go to Bed Early._
The sun is hidden from our sight,
The birds are sleeping sound;
’Tis time to say to all, “Good night,”
And give a kiss all round.
Good night! my father, mother dear,
Now kiss your little son;
Good night! my friends, both far and near;
Good night! to every one.
Good night! ye merry, merry birds,
Sleep well till morning light;
Perhaps if you could sing in words,
You too would say, “Good night!”
To all the pretty flowers, Good night!
You blossom while I sleep!
And all the stars that shine so bright,
With you their watches keep.
[Illustration: GOOD NIGHT.]
The moon is lighting up the skies,
The stars are sparkling there;
’Tis time to shut my weary eyes,
And say my evening prayer.
[Illustration]
The Boy and the Squirrel.
_No time to Play when there is Work to be done._
“Pretty Squirrel on the tree,
Frisking there so merrily,
Pray come down and play with me!”
“No, indeed, I must not stay,
I’ve no time with you to play,
But must gather nuts to-day.
In the hollow of this tree
I have little young ones three,
Looking for me wishfully.”
Up the tree he whisk’d away,
Climbing where his young ones lay,
Snugly in their bed of hay.
[Illustration: THE SQUIRREL.]
Wondering gazed the little child,
At his antics free and wild,
Calling oft in accents mild,--
“Do come from thy nest so high?”
Spake the Squirrel in reply,--
“Boy, no time to play have I.”
[Illustration]
The Works of Creation.
_Showing the Power and Goodness of God._
Come, children, now behold the earth
In varied beauty stand;
The product view of six days birth,--
How wondrous and how grand!
The fields, the meadows, and the plain,
The little laughing hills,
The waters too, the mighty main,
The rivers and the rills.
Come, then, behold them all, and say,
How came these things to be,
That here before, which ever way
We turn ourselves, we see.
[Illustration: THE WORKS OF CREATION.]
’Tis GOD who made the earth and sea;
To whom all angels bow;
The GOD who made both you and me,
The GOD who sees us now.
[Illustration]
Early Rising.
_Early to Bed and Early to Rise._
Little Frank is pale and wan,
And fretful spends the day;
The roses of his cheeks are gone,
And all his wish for play.
But look at James! his laughing eyes
A better story tell;
He, cheerful boy, is much too wise
To make himself unwell.
The reason Frank is pale and dull,
And can’t enjoy his play,
While James, with spirits ever full,
Makes all around him gay,--
Is this,--James early goes to bed,
And wakes refreshed and bright,
While Frank, by foolish fancy led,
Sits up quite late at night.
[Illustration: EARLY RISING.]
The Little Brother.
_Children should always be kind to each other._
Little brother, darling boy,
You are very dear to me!
I am pleased and full of joy,
When your smiling face I see.
How I wish that you could speak,
And could know the words I say!
Pretty stories I would seek,
To amuse you every day;
All about the honey-bees
Flying past us in the sun,--
Birds that sing among the trees,--
Lambs that in the meadows run.
I’ll be very kind to you,--
Never slap or make you cry,
As some naughty children do,
Quite forgetting GOD is nigh.
Shake your rattle,--here it is,
Listen to its merry noise,
And, when you are tired of this,
I will bring you other toys.
[Illustration:
BABCOCK’S
No. 3 TOY BOOKS,
NEW SERIES,
MORAL, INSTRUCTIVE, AND
ENTERTAINING,
ALL BEAUTIFULLY
EMBELLISHED
WITH
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ILLUSTRATIONS
OF
SHAKSPEARE.
[Illustration: _Published by T. Tegg Cheapside, Sept.ʳ 1839._]
ILLUSTRATIONS
OF
SHAKSPEARE,
AND OF
ANCIENT MANNERS:
WITH
DISSERTATIONS
ON THE CLOWNS AND FOOLS OF SHAKSPEARE;
ON THE COLLECTION OF POPULAR TALES ENTITLED GESTA ROMANORUM;
AND ON THE ENGLISH MORRIS DANCE.
By FRANCIS DOUCE.
THE ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD BY JACKSON.
A NEW EDITION.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, CHEAPSIDE;
R. GRIFFIN AND CO., GLASGOW; TEGG AND CO., DUBLIN; ALSO
J. & S. A. TEGG, SYDNEY AND HOBART TOWN.
1839.
PRINTED BY RICHARD KINDER, GREEN ARBOUR COURT, OLD BAILEY.
PREFACE.
The practice, and also the necessity of explaining the writings of
Shakspeare, have already been so ably defended by former commentators,
that no other apology on the part of those who may elect to persevere
in this kind of labour seems to be necessary than with regard to the
qualifications of the writer: but as no one in this case perhaps ever
thought, or at least should think, himself incompetent to the task
assumed of instructing or amusing others, it may be as well, on the
present occasion, to waive altogether such a common-place intrusion
on the reader's time. It is enough to state that accident had given
birth to a considerable portion of the following pages, and that design
supplied the rest. The late Mr. Steevens had already in a manner too
careless for his own reputation, and abundantly too favourable to his
friend, presented to public view such of the author's remarks as were
solely put together for the private use and consideration of that
able critic. The former wish of their compiler has, with the present
opportunity, been accomplished; that is, some of them withdrawn, and
others, it is hoped, rendered less exceptionable.
The readers of Shakspeare may be properly divided into three classes.
The first, as they travel through the text, appeal to each explanation
of a word or passage as it occurs. The second read a large portion of
the text, or perhaps the whole, uninterruptedly, and then consult the
notes; and the third reject the illustrations altogether. Of these
the second appear to be the most rational. The last, with all their
affectation, are probably the least learned, but will undoubtedly
remain so; and it may be justly remarked on this occasion, in the
language of the writer who has best illustrated the principles of
taste, that "the pride of science is always meek and humble compared
with the pride of ignorance." He, who at this day can entirely
comprehend the writings of Shakspeare without the aid of a comment, and
frequently of laborious illustration, may be said to possess a degree
of inspiration almost commensurate with that of the great bard himself.
Mr. Steevens has indeed summed up every necessary argument in his
assertion that "if Shakspeare is worth reading, he is worth explaining;
and the researches used for so valuable and elegant a purpose, merit
the thanks of genius and candour, not the satire of prejudice and
ignorance."
The indefatigable exertions of Messrs. Steevens, Malone, Tyrwhitt, and
Mason, will ever be duly appreciated by the true and zealous admirers
of Shakspeare's pages. If the name of a celebrated critic and moralist
be not included on this occasion, it is because he was certainly
unskilled in the knowledge of obsolete customs and expressions.
His explanatory notes therefore are, generally speaking, the most
controvertible of any; but no future editor will discharge his duty to
the public who shall omit a single sentence of this writer's masterly
preface, or of his sound and tasteful characters of the plays of
Shakspeare. Of all the commentators Dr. Warburton was surely the worst.
His sentiments indeed have been seldom exhibited in modern editions but
for the purpose of confuting them.
The wide dispersion of those materials which are essential to the
illustration of inquiries like the present, will necessarily frustrate
every endeavour at perfection; a circumstance that alone should teach
every one discussing these difficult and obscure subjects, to speak
of them with becoming diffidence. The present writer cannot flatter
himself that he has uniformly paid a strict attention to this rule; the
ardour of conjecture may have sometimes led him, in common with others,
to forget the precepts he had himself laid down.
It may be thought by some, and even with great justice, that several
of the corrections are trifling and unimportant; but even these may
perhaps be endured wherever it shall be manifest that their object,
and it is hoped their effect, has been to remove error and establish
truth; a matter undoubtedly of some consequence in the school of
criticism. One design of this volume has been to augment the knowledge
of our popular customs and antiquities, in which respect alone the
writings of Shakspeare have suggested better hints, and furnished
ampler materials than those of any one besides. Other digressions too
have been introduced, as it was conceived that they might operate in
diminishing that tedium which usually results from an attention to
matters purely critical; and that whilst there was almost a certainty
of supplying some amusement, there might even be a chance of conveying
instruction. Sometimes there has been a necessity for stepping in
between two contending critics; and for showing, as in the case of many
other disputes, that both parties are in the wrong.
Some excuse may seem necessary for obtruding on the reader so many
passages from what Mr. Steevens has somewhere called "books too mean
to be formally quoted." And yet the wisest among us may be often
benefited by the meanest productions of human intellect, if, like
medicinal poisons, they be administered with skill. It had escaped the
recollection of the learned and accomplished commentator that he had
himself condescended to examine a multitude of volumes of the above
class, and even to use them with advantage to his readers in the course
of his notes.
With respect to what is often absurdly denominated _black letter_
learning, the taste which prevails in the present times for this sort
of reading, wherever true scholarship and a laudable curiosity are
found united, will afford the best reply to the hyper-criticisms and
impotent sarcasms of those who, having from indolence or ignorance
neglected to cultivate so rich a field of knowledge, exert the whole of
their endeavours to depreciate its value. Are the earlier labours of
our countrymen, and especially the copious stores of information that
enriched the long and flourishing reign of Elizabeth, to be rejected
because they are recorded in a particular typography?
Others again have complained of the redundancy of the commentators,
and of an affected display of learning to explain terms and illustrate
matters of obvious and easy comprehension. This may sometimes have
been the case; but it were easier to show that too little, and not
too much, has been attempted on many of these occasions. An eminent
critic has declared that "if every line of Shakspeare's plays were
accompanied with a comment, every intelligent reader would be indebted
to the industry of him who produced it." Shakspeare indeed is not more
obscure than contemporary writers; but he is certainly much better
worth illustrating. The above objectors, affectedly zealous to detect
the errors of other men, but more frequently betraying their own
self-sufficiency and over-weening importance, seem to forget that
comments and illustrations are designed for the more ignorant class of
readers, who are always the most numerous; and that very few possess
the happiness and advantage of being wise or learned.
It might be thought that in the following pages exemplifications of
the senses of words have been sometimes unnecessarily introduced where
others had already been given; but this has only been done where the
new ones were deemed of greater force or utility than the others, or
where they were supposed to be really and intrinsically curious. Some
of the notes will require that the _whole_ of others which they advert
to, should be examined in Mr. Steevens's edition; but these were not
reprinted, as they would have occupied a space much too unreasonable.
At the end of every play in which a fool or clown is introduced there
will be found particular and discriminative notice of a character which
some may regard as by no means unworthy of such attention.
The Dissertations which accompany this work will, it is hoped, not
be found misplaced nor altogether uninteresting. The subject of the
first of them, though often introduced into former notes on the plays
of Shakspeare and other dramatic writers, had been but partially and
imperfectly illustrated. The _Gesta Romanorum_, to which _The Merchant
of Venice_ has been so much indebted for the construction of its
story, had, it is true, been already disserted on by Mr. Warton with
his accustomed elegance; but it will be found that he had by no means
exhausted the subject. The _morris dance_, so frequently alluded to in
our old plays, seemed to require and deserve additional researches.
This preface shall not be concluded without embracing the opportunity
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* * * * *
Transcriber's Note: The original publication has been replicated
faithfully except as shown in the Transcriber's Amendments at the end of
the text. This etext presumes a mono-spaced font on the user's device,
such as Courier New. Words in italics are indicated like _this_. But the
publisher also wanted to emphasize words in sentences already italicized,
so he printed them in the regular font which is indicated here with: _The
pirates then went to +Hispaniola+._ Obscured letters in the original
publication are indicated with {?}. Superscripts are indicated like this:
S^{ta} Maria. Footnotes are located near the end of the work.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Lestevenon de Berkenroode]
THE
MEMOIRS
OF
_CHARLES-LEWIS_,
Baron de POLLNITZ.
BEING
The OBSERVATIONS He made in his
late TRAVELS from _Prussia_ thro'
_GERMANY_,
_ITALY_,
_FRANCE_,
_FLANDERS_,
_HOLLAND_,
_ENGLAND_, &c.
In LETTERS to his FRIEND.
Discovering not only the PRESENT STATE
of the Chief CITIES and TOWNS;
BUT
The CHARACTERS of the PRINCIPAL PERSONS
at the Several COURTS.
In TWO VOLUMES.
Vol. I
The SECOND EDITION, with ADDITIONS.
_LONDON:_
Printed for DANIEL BROWNE, at the _Black Swan_,
without _Temple-Bar_. M.DCC.XXXIX.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PREFACE, BY THE TRANSLATOR v
AUTHOR'S PREFACE ix
ADVERTISEMENT BY THE EDITOR xiv
PREFACE xv
ADDENDA to Vol. I xviii
ADDENDA to Vol. II xxi
BOOKS LATELY PUBLISHED xxiv
LETTER I 1
LETTER II 49
LETTER III 60
LETTER IV 69
LETTER V 80
LETTER VI 162
LETTER VII 178
LETTER VIII 183
LETTER IX 193
LETTER X 197
LETTER XI 210
LETTER XII 224
LETTER XIII 246
LETTER XIV 258
LETTER XV 272
LETTER XVI 280
LETTER XVII 293
LETTER XVIII 299
LETTER XIX 315
LETTER XX 327
LETTER XXI 338
LETTER XXII 357
LETTER XXIII 364
LETTER XXIV 377
LETTER XXV 391
LETTER XXVI 408
LETTER XXVII 422
OTHER BOOKS 432
INDEX 433
ERRATA
FOOTNOTES
[Illustration]
To the Right Honourable
PHILIP, _Lord_ HARDWICKE;
Baron of _Hardwicke_, in the
County of _Gloucester_;
LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR
of _Great Britain_;
AND
One of the LORDS of His Majesty's most
Honourable PRIVY COUNCIL.
MY LORD,
The good Reception these Memoirs, which I most humbly offer to your
Lordship, have met with Abroad; and the Protection and Favour the _Author_
has obtain'd at one of the Chief Protestant Courts of EUROPE; encourage
me, tho' with the profoundest Submission, to intreat your Lordship's
favourable Acceptance of this _Translation_.
'Tis, my Lord, the only Homage I am capable of paying your Lordship, and
the best Testimony I can give with what Zeal and Pleasure I join in the
Congratulation of the Public for that illustrious Regard paid to your
Lordship's Merit, and Their Wishes, by his SACRED MAJESTY, this Day in
Council.
That your Lordship may very long enjoy a sufficient Portion of Health,
equal to the Abilities of your Great Mind, for supporting you under that
vast Weight of Service which you have now taken upon you for your King and
Country, is the hearty Prayer of all good ENGLISHMEN; and particularly of
Him, My Lord, who has the Honour to subscribe
YOUR LORDSHIP'S
_Most Devoted,
Most Obedient, and
Most Humble Servant._
[Illustration]
PREFACE,
By the TRANSLATOR.
The Author of these _Memoirs_, who is a Person of an honourable Family in
_Prussia_, and confess'd by all that know him to be a Gentleman of
extraordinary Talents, is one that may be truly said to have seen the
World; he having not only travell'd twice thro' the principal Parts of
_Europe_, but by his Acquaintance with People of the first Rank, and a
diligent Inquiry and nice Inspection into Men and Things, attained to that
Knowledge of Both, which is of such Service and Entertainment to Mankind
in the general, and so particularly necessary for All who attend to what
is doing in high Life.
He has succeeded very happily in the right Narrative Stile; and the
_French_ Language, in which he wrote the following Letters, seems to be as
natural to him as if it was his Mother-Tongue. But the Thing which has
most contributed to the Demand for these Memoirs, is the Multitude of
Characters that the Baron has interspers'd, not only of the Deceas'd, but
even of Persons that are still living, and distinguish'd by the exalted
Spheres in which they move.
That every one of those Characters is equally just, or that every
Circumstance relating to them is told with the utmost Exactness, is not to
be imagin'd: For supposing the Author to have been ever so circumspect and
impartial, how was it possible for him to take the true Likeness of every
one, in such a Variety of Personages of both Sexes, and to be perfectly
sure of every Particular that he mentions; since he could not be
Eye-Witness of every thing, and must be oblig'd for many to Information
from other Persons, of whom, 'tis no wonder if some were prejudic'd? But
to do the Baron Justice, it must be allow'd, that he no where fails in
that Respect and Decorum to Princes which are their due; and that he has
not discover'd a predominant Passion for Satire: because where he has
painted in the strongest Colours, and represented his Subjects in the most
disadvantageous Light, they were such whose Follies or whose Vices were
too flagrant and notorious to be either conceal'd or disguis'd: And,
considering the Groupe of Courtiers whom he has crouded into his Canvass,
the Reader will rather be surpris'd to meet with so few Imperfections in
his Characters, and so many excellent Qualities. By this means, his
Memoirs have, upon the whole, done Honour to his Understanding, without
offending his Conscience, or hurting his Fortune; he being, at this very
time, upon a handsome Establishment at the Court of _Prussia_.
It cannot possibly escape the Observation of the Reader, that the Baron,
when he wrote these Letters to his noble Friend, was a profess'd Member of
the Church of _Rome_; but that nevertheless, he was not such a Bigot to
its Constitution, nor such a Believer in the Legends of its Writers, or
the pretended Miracles of its Saints, as to incur the Character of a blind
and furious Zealot; it appearing on the contrary, from several
Declarations of his Mind in the following Pages, that he did not want
Charity either in his Nature or Principles for those from whom he differ'd
in religious Sentiments. Such a Catholic Spirit, assisted by his good
Sense, made it, no doubt, much easier for him, after reflecting upon the
Fopperies and Impostures which he had seen in that Church during his
Travels, to abjure the _Romish_ and to embrace the _Protestant_ Religion,
which he did accordingly with great Devotion last Summer, at _Berlin_;
after which, his _Prussian_ Majesty was pleas'd to distinguish him with
peculiar Marks of his Favour and Esteem, by declaring him one of the
Gentlemen of his Bed-Chamber, and Chief Cup-Bearer of his Court; and he
has very lately given him a considerable Prebend.
To the new Edition of his Memoirs, from which the following Sheets are
translated, there's not only a great number of material Additions in the
Body of the Work, as is observ'd by the Editor of it, _Amsterdam_, but
several new Notes: In this Translation, these Notes are likewise
considerably augmented, for the sake of continuing the Thread of the
History to the present Time, by the Notice taken of certain remarkable
Alterations, or other curious Particulars that have happen'd to the
Persons or the Places mentioned, since 1734, when the said Edition was
publish'd.
One great Defect for which the foreign Editor has been very much blam'd,
was the want of a Table to these Memoirs; which, if not absolutely
necessary in a Work of this kind, wherein so many Persons and Facts are
mentioned, cannot be necessary for any Book whatsoever that comes from the
Press. To supply this Defect, the Translator has added an Alphabetical
Index to each of the two Volumes; which Indexes are the more copious, that
the Reader might know where to turn in an Instant for some Account of the
Characters, Conduct, or Familys of those public Personages, whose Names so
often occur in the News-Papers.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE
AUTHOR's PREFACE
TO THE
FIRST EDITION.
_There are very few Books without a +Preface+; and that there are
so, is in a great measure owing to the Fancy of the +Booksellers+,
who think them to be absolutely necessary, and too often judge of
the merit of a Copy by the Flights of its Preface, and the
insinuating Tone of the +Author's+ Voice in reading it. I had the
misfortune to fall into the hands of one of these Booksellers, so
fond of Prefaces, whom nothing would serve but he must have one at
the Head of my +Memoirs+. My telling him that I did not know what to
put into a Preface, signify'd no more than if I had been talking to
a Post; for he threaten'd to get a Preface compos'd by an Author who
wrote for Wages. This startled me, and I trembled for the fate of my
Book, not doubting that a Preface written by a Man of Letters, who
made it his profession to compose such marvellous Pieces, would
altogether eclipse the few Excellencies in this Work of mine. What,
said I to myself, the Sale of my Book then must depend only on the
Goodness of the Preface, which, when the Readers compare with the
Book it self, they will say, O! what a wonderful Man is the Author
of the +Preface+! What a pitiful Writer, the Compiler of the
+Memoirs+! No, said I again to my self, I am resolv'd that the
Preface and the Book shall run the same risk; and since Chance has
enter'd me an Author, I'll play out the whole part of one._
_I am told, that the Design of a Preface is to give the Publick an
account, in the first place, of the Reasons that have engag'd the Author
to compose his Work; that then he is to inform the Publick, that 'tis in
meer Complaisance to his Friends, and because there are mangled Copies of
his Manuscript abroad, that he has been determined to put it to the Press;
and finally, that he is to conclude with a sort of Petition, wherein he is
to beg the Reader's Indulgence for his Productions. This, I have been
assured, is the Plan of a Preface; let us now see how well I can execute
it._
_As to the first Article, +viz.+ what Motives I had to write, I sincerely
own that when I set Pen to Paper, I meant nothing more than to amuse
myself. I was the farthest in the World from thinking that I should one
day be overtaken with the Temptation of setting up for an Author. I wrote
Letters to a Friend of mine, purely to divert him with an Account of such
things as came in my way; the Minutes of which Letters I preserved till I
had insensibly formed a Volume of 'em; and having nothing else to do, I
augmented and digested them in the manner that I now give them to the
Publick. The truth is, that my Friends have not used the least Importunity
with me to commit my Manuscript to the Press, nor was it possible for any
spurious Copies of it to get abroad, because no body ever saw it till I
put it into the hands of the Bookseller._
_But I shall be ask'd, what possess'd me to commence Author, and how came
I to be so idle as to put my Name at the Head of a sorry book? I must
answer again, that it was downright Indolence. As to my Name, it would
have been very difficult to have concealed it from Persons to whom I have
the greatest Obligations. I should have been suspected to have been the
Author of these Memoirs at certain Courts, for which I have a Respect both
by Inclination and Duty; and perhaps, if I had left this Copy to the
wide World, as some do those Foundlings which they are asham'd to own,
such Passages might have been foisted into it, as would have been father'd
upon me, in spite of all Protestations of my Innocence._
_As to the Book itself, I am apt to think there is nothing in it that any
Person whatsoever ought to take offence at. When I speak of Sovereign
Princes, 'tis with the Reverence due to the +Lord's Anointed+; and I also
endeavour to honour them in their Ministers, being taught by my Religion
that I ought to honour God in his Saints. I have done my utmost to paint
the true Characters of People in Place, and can safely say, that my
Authorities are not meer hear-says or scraps out of News-Papers; for,
thank to God, my Birth and Fortune have put me in a capacity to see, hear,
and judge for myself._
_It will be thought perhaps, that when I speak of Nations in general, I
judge too rashly. It may be so; this being an Article especially in which
all Men do not think alike. The +French+ have a quite different Idea of
the +Germans+ from what the +English+ have, and the +English+ do not pass
the same Verdict on the +French+ as the +Swedes+ do. 'Tis the same in
private Life. Every one makes his own Condition the Standard of his
Judgment. The Man of Quality, the Citizen, the Soldier, the Merchant, have
all different Ideas. The Traveller judges of the Nation where he is, by
the Company he keeps. A +Frenchman+ who in +Germany+ converses with none
but those of the second Class, will say that the +Germans+ are honest
People, but clownish; whereas another, who keeps company with Persons of
Quality, or those in Offices, will agree, that the +Germans+ are more
polite than they have been painted by certain +French+ Writers, who have
been transplanted to +Germany+ either by their Distresses, or by meer
Chance. So, a +German+, who, when he is at +Paris+, sees no better Company
than the Marchionesses of the Suburb of +St. Germain+, imagines
that all the Women both at Court and in the City are like them. In fine, a
Foreigner who takes up his Residence in the City of +London+, will
entertain a different Idea of the +English+ from what another shall do who
lodges at +St. James+'s end of the town. They are, as one may say, so many
different Nations in one and the same State, which stand in little
relation to one another; and sometimes attribute Virtues and Vices to each
other without due Consideration. A Foreigner therefore can form a solid
Judgment of none but those with whom he is conversant; and if he has the
good luck to pitch his Tent well, he entertains an advantageous Opinion of
the Nation in general. Let Foreigners, when they return home, after having
kept such various sorts of Company, sit down to draw the Characters of the
Nations they have seen, I do but think what a strange difference would
appear in their Descriptions! The Judgment therefore which I make of
People, is founded upon the Company I kept, and upon what I heard from
such Inhabitants of the Country as appear'd to me to be altogether
unprejudiced, and were pleased to honour me with their Information. I do
not say but, after all, I may have been mistaken; for I do not pretend to
have painted things in any other light than as they appear'd to me. If,
nevertheless, any particular Person thinks himself particularly intended
when I speak of the Inhabitants of any Province or Town in general, I beg
him to remember, that I confess in my Memoirs there are worthy People in
all parts of the World, and 'tis not my fault if his Conscience does not
permit him to rank himself in that number._
_No doubt I shall be reproach'd for relating too many Trifles, and passing
too lightly over things of greater Importance. To speak freely again, I
will make no difficulty to own, that, if when I began these Memoirs, I had
ever thought of printing them, the desire of promoting their Sale might
perhaps have put upon inserting a great many Nothings which I omitted, as
not thinking it worth while to charge my Memory with 'em. The far greatest
part of what the World reads is Trifles, and a History will make its
fortune not by the instructive Facts that are in it, but by the Romantic
Turn the Author gives it. Besides, I am not so vain as to write with a
design of Instructing; for what could I relate in my Travels which others
have not done before me in better Terms? To talk of Learned Men, to make a
Catalogue of Books and MSS. that are to be met with in Libraries, to
ransack the Cabinet of the Curious, to publish Inscriptions, to treat of
antique Medals, to affirm that I have seen an +Otho+ of Brass, which is
known to be but of Silver, what a Posse of Men of Learning would rise up
against me! Whereas, now I fear nothing; the Learned don't read Trifles,
or if they do, they scorn to criticise them. I shall to them remain
unknown, or at least, my Meanness will be my Protection against their
Indignation._
_I would fain be as secure against the Criticism of those, who reading for
the sake of their amusement, require an exact, elegant Stile in trifles,
that is, adorn'd with the Flowers and Garlands of Rhetorick. But how shall
I gain their Indulgence? If I own to them that I could do no better, they
will say to me, and justly enough, +Alas! then what made you write?+ To
which I shall answer, as I said before, that it was meerly for want of
something else to do. If they will but forgive me this time, I assure them
that I not only will never relapse into the same error, but that I shall
not be sorry if they disdain to take Notice of my Book: And if the reading
of these Memoirs inclines them to sleep, I shall think my self very well
rewarded for having contributed to their Repose._
_After all, I am more particularly obliged to ask pardon of the +French+
than any other Nation: 'Tis in their Language I have presumed to write,
and they are my proper Judges. Such is their Politeness and their
Readiness to assist Foreigners, that I doubt not of Mercy. And in
return, I promise them, that if a +Frenchman+ ever vouchsafes to write in
the +German+ Language, I will forgive him any Errors that he may commit._
ADVERTISEMENT by the EDITOR.
N. B. "These Memoirs went off so quick, that before they had been out
scarce six Months, the _French_ Bookseller was oblig'd to prepare for this
_Second Edition_; to which, there are considerable Additions both in the
Body of the Work and in the Notes, of curious and interesting Facts and
Characters, and the principal Alterations that have happen'd at the
several Courts, since the first Edition.
"There is added in particular, a very circumstantial Account of the
present Elector of _Saxony_'s Family, his Ministers, and Officers; and in
short, of the Chief Persons of both Sexes belonging to his Court and
Houshold. This is prefix'd in the Original, at the Head of the Memoirs;
but the Translator thought it more regular as well as more consistent with
the Method observ'd every where else by the Author, to place it at the End
of his Description of the City of _Dresden_. The Baron has dedicated that
Account to the present Elector (_Augustus_, King of _Poland_) and
introduc'd it with the following Preface."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
PREFACE,
TO THE SECOND EDITION.
_The_ PRESENT STATE OF THE COURT OF SAXONY_, which is added to this
Edition, has no need of a Preface to recommend it, the very Title shewing
that 'tis what concerns every +Saxon+ especially to be acquainted with._
_All Subjects have a desire to know something of their Sovereign; and
private Men in every State have this Curiosity, with respect to their
Ministers and Courtiers. These are the Characters which I have ventured to
draw, tho' I own, that I don't think I have always hit the Life, for want
of that Penetration and Delicacy of Imagination which Nature, to me a
Step-Mother, has deny'd me; and also because it would have been necessary
for me to have stay'd longer than I did at +Dresden+. Three Months
Residence at so great a Court, are hardly sufficient to make a Man
acquainted with it, were his Fund of Knowledge even as deep as mine is
shallow. Then what a Presumption would it be for me to think I have
attained to it!_
_I must not dissemble, that this Book with all its Imperfections, has cost
me more trouble in composing than one much larger would have done upon a
Subject that had been more familiar to me. There was a necessity for me to
make Inquiry into many Particulars, and to get some of my Information from
a private hand. I own my Obligation to the Civility of M. +Konig+, the
Counsellor of the Court, for the Intelligence I wanted relating
to some of the Court-Nobility. If I had been so happy as to have found out
but one or two Persons more as active for me as he was, my Work would have
been more correct and more extensive. Such as it is, I intreat the Reader
to accept it, and to forgive any Errors in it, in consideration that I am
the first who has ventured to treat of such a Subject. I own, there is a
certain degree of Rashness in the Undertaking, but the noble Motive that
has induc'd me to it, seems to plead for my excuse._
_All +Saxony+ knows in general, that 'tis govern'd by a Sovereign,
gracious, and vigilant to render it happy. It were needless to set the
King's Virtues and Actions before their Eyes, which the People already
admire, and pray for him. But as this Great Prince does not want those who
envy his Glory, they are the Persons whom I have chose to make asham'd of
themselves; and have endeavoured, if possible, to reclaim others whom a
fatal blindness keeps at a distance from his Majesty's Person[1]._
_All that ever had the honour of approaching +Augustus III.+ will agree
with me that he adorns that Throne, upon which a respectful Nation has
plac'd him; and that whatever I have said of this Monarch is short of what
might be mention'd. How is it possible to give the true Portraiture of a
King born without Vice, by Principle virtuous, and religiously good? To
admire him in silence is the only way to please him, which I know too
well, not to conform to it; and therefore I have not presum'd to expatiate
so far in his Praise as the Sublimity of the Subject demands._
_The same Aversion of the Queen to Praise, has confin'd me within the same
bounds. How many Virtues have not I been forc'd to smother? What Thoughts_
_have not I sacrific'd, lest I should offend the noble Modesty of that
August Princess, who with a Simplicity attending her Grandeur, makes her
Glory to consist in being humble in the midst of Honours?_
_I believe no body will dispute the Truth of what I have advanc'd relating
to the_ PRINCE ROYAL_ and _ELECTORAL_, the_ PRINCES HIS BROTHERS_, and the
_PRINCESSES HIS SISTERS_. The hopes I have raised of what may be expected
from_ THEIR ROYAL HIGHNESSES_, will surely be confirm'd by Time, and by
all those who have access to them._
_The Actions of the Duke +John-Adolphus+ of +Saxe-Weissenfels+ are so well
establish'd that I have not thought fit to anticipate History, by which
they are to be consecrated: And for the same reason, I have but just
touch'd upon the amiable Qualities of his Mind, which are rever'd both by
the Court and the Army._
_As to the Princess of +Saxe-Weissenfels+, I frankly own, that as I had
not the honour of paying my Court to her, what I have said of her Virtues
has no other Authority than the Voice of the Publick, which can never
speak enough in her Praise._
_I have been more copious in treating of the Ministers; and what I have
said of them is so true, that they who know them not may thereby form a
just Idea of what they are._
_I have taken as much notice of the principal Lords and the most
distinguish'd Ladies of the Court, as the little time I had for this Work,
and the Limits to which I was confin'd, would permit. I flatter myself
they will forgive the Freedom with which I use them; and hope I have
preserv'd a Decency in my Language which will secure me from Reproach._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
ADDENDA to Vol. I.
Pap. 15. M. _Beausobre_, Minister of the Gospel at _Berlin_, and Author of
several learned Treatises, died in _May_ 1738.
P. 26. The Princess of _Brandenburg-Schwedt_, fourth Daughter of the King
of _Prussia_, was deliver'd of a Daughter in _April_ 1738.
P. 27. The Count _de Truchses-Walbourg_, Major-General in the Service of
the King of _Prussia_, died at _Berlin_ in _April_ 1738.
P. 34. In _July_ 1738, his _Prussian_ Majesty, together with the Prince
Royal and Prince _William_, made a Tour to _Holland_, and paid a Visit to
his most Serene Highness the Prince of _Orange_.
P. 66. His Excellency Baron _Hattorf_, Secretary of State for the Affairs
of _Hanover_, died in _August_ 1737.
P. 70. _Christina-Louisa_, Princess of _Oetingen_, died in 1736.
P. 72. _Philippina-Charlotte_, Duchess of _Brunswic-Wolfembuttle_, and
third Daughter to the King of _Prussia_, after having had two Sons by Duke
_Charles_ her Husband, _viz._ the first born in 1735, and the other, who
is called _George-Francis_, in 1736, was deliver'd also of a Daughter in
_September_ 1737, who in the Month following was baptiz'd by the Names of
_Christina-Sophia-Maria_.
P. 105. M. _de Miltitz_, who was Tutor to the present King _Augustus_ when
he was Electoral Prince of _Saxony_, died in _March_ 1738.
P. 113. The Princess Royal of _Poland_ was married in _July_ 1738, to Don
_Carlos_ King of _Naples_ and _Sicily_.
P. 130. The Count _de Sulkowski_ in _January_ 1738 fell under some
Disgrace, so that his Majesty order'd his Papers to be seal'd up, and
excused him from farther Attendance on him, but was willing he should keep
the Title and Rank of Minister of the Cabinet, and General of the Foot,
with 6000 Crowns Pension.
P. 140. _Adolphus de Bruhl_ was in _January_ 1738 appointed Grand-Master
of the Horse, at the _Saxon_ Court, in the room of the Count _de
Sulkowski_.
P. 142. The Count _de Moschinski_ died in _September_ 1737.
P. 147. The Count _de Diedrichstein_ died at _Prague_ in _September_ 1737.
He was Baron of _Hollenbourg_, _Finckenstein_, _Dahlberg_ and
_Landskroon_, Hereditary Great Huntsman of _Styria_, Hereditary Cup-Bearer
of _Carinthia_, Knight of the Order of St. _John_ of _Jerusalem_, Grand
Prior in _Bohemia_, _Moravia_, _Silesia_, _Carinthia_, _Styria_, _Tirol_,
_Austria_ and _Poland_, Bailiff of the aforesaid Order, and Commander of
the Commanderies of _Little Oels_, _Furstenfeld_ and _Mosling_, a
Privy-Counsellor of the Emperor, and Governour-General of the Kingdom of
_Bohemia_.
P. 168. The last Duke of _Saxe-Mersebourg_ mention'd in the Note of that
Page, died in _May_ 1738.
P. 182. In _April_ 1738, the Emperor appointed the Prince of _Saxe-Gotha_
Lieutenant Velt-Marshal of his Armies; and in _September_ following
he solicited the Diet of _Ratisbon_ for the Post of second
Velt-Marshal-General of the Empire, in the Disposal of the Protestant
States, vacant by the Death of the Baron _de Wutgenau_.
P. 182. _Augusta_ Princess of _Wales_ was deliver'd of a Princess on the
31st of _July_ 1737, who was baptized after her own Name; and on the 24th
of _May_ 1738, she was deliver'd of a Prince who was baptiz'd
_George-William Frederic_.
P. 208. The Margravine of _Brandenbourg-Culmbach_, Mother to the Queen of
_Denmark_, died at _Copenhagen_ in _August_ 1737, in the 70th Year of her
Age, very much lamented.
P. 220. Count _Philip Kinski_ was made Chancellor of _Bohemia_, in _May_
1738, in the room of the late Count _de Collowrat_.
P. 233. The Archduchess, Wife to the Duke of _Lorrain_, had a Daughter,
born _January_ 25, 1737, and another born in _September_ 1738.
P. 264. The eldest Son of the Duke _Ferdinand_ of _Bavaria_, died in
_April_ 1738.
P. 266. The Count _Maximilian de Fugger_ died at _Vienna_, in _January_
1738.
P. 266. The Count _de Thirheim_ died in _January_ 1738, at _Lintz_, | 1,742.059947 |
2023-11-16 18:46:06.1341000 | 4,866 | 10 | ***
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Illustration: HE WILDLY TORE AT EVERYTHING AND HURLED IT DOWN
ON HIS PURSUERS _Page_ 86 _Frontispiece_]
Mr. Midshipman Glover, R.N.
A Tale of the Royal Navy of To-day
BY
SURGEON REAR-ADMIRAL
T. T. JEANS, C.M.G., R.N.
Author of "John Graham, Sub-Lieutenant, R.N."
"A Naval Venture" &c.
_Illustrated by Edward S. Hodgson_
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW
1908
By
Surgeon Rear-Admiral
T. T. Jeans
The Gun-runners.
John Graham, Sub-Lieutenant, R.N.
A Naval Venture.
Gunboat and Gun-runner.
Ford of H.M.S. "Vigilant".
On Foreign Service.
Mr. Midshipman Glover, R.N.
_Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow_
*Preface*
In this story of the modern Royal Navy I have endeavoured, whilst
narrating many adventures both ashore and afloat, to portray the habits
of thought and speech of various types of officers and men of the Senior
Service who live and serve under the White Ensign to-day.
To do this the more graphically I have made some of the leading
characters take up, from each other, the threads of the story and
continue the description of incidents from their own points of view; the
remainder of the tale is written in the third person as by an outside
narrator.
I hope that this method will be found to lend additional interest to the
book.
I have had great assistance from several Gunnery, Torpedo, and Engineer
Lieutenants, who have read the manuscripts as they were written,
corrected many errors of detail, and made many useful suggestions.
The story may therefore claim to be technically correct.
T. T. JEANS,
SURGEON REAR-ADMIRAL, ROYAL NAVY
*Contents*
CHAP.
I. The Luck of Midshipman Glover
II. Helston receives a Strange Letter
III. The Fitting Out of a Squadron
IV. The Pirates are not Idle
V. The Squadron leaves hurriedly
VI. The Voyage East
VII. The Pursuit of the Patagonian
VIII. Mr. Ping Sang is Outwitted
IX. Captain Helston Wounded
X. Destroyer "No. 1" Meets her Fate
XI. The Action off Sin Ling
XII. A Council of War
XIII. The Avenging of Destroyer "No. 1"
XIV. Night Operations
XV. Mr. Midshipman Glover Tells how he was Wounded
XVI. Captain Helston's Indecision
XVII. Spying Out the Pirates
XVIII. The Escape from the Island
XIX. Cummins Captures One Gun Hill
XX. The Fight for One Gun Hill
XXI. On One Gun Hill
XXII. The Final Attack on the Hill
XXIII. The Attack on the Forts
XXIV. The Capture of the Island
XXV. The Fruits of Victory
XXVI. Home Again
*Illustrations*
He wildly tore at everything and hurled it down on his pursuers...
_Frontispiece_
I struck at him with my heavy malacca stick
The sinking of the Pirate Torpedo-Boat
The Commander and Jones overpower the Two Sentries
Map Illustrating the Operations Against the Pirates
[Illustration: MAP ILLUSTRATING THE OPERATIONS AGAINST THE PIRATES]
*CHAPTER I*
*The Luck of Midshipman Glover*
Ordered Abroad. Hurrah!
_Midshipman Glover explains how Luck came to him_
It all started absolutely unexpectedly whilst we were on leave and
staying with Mellins in the country.
When I say "we", I mean Tommy Toddles and myself. His real name was
Foote, but nobody ever called him anything but "Toddles", and I do
believe that he would almost have forgotten what his real name actually
was if it had not been engraved on the brass plate on the lid of his sea
chest, and if he had not been obliged to have it marked very plainly on
his washing.
We had passed out of the _Britannia_ a fortnight before--passed out as
full-blown midshipmen, too, which was all due to luck--and were both
staying with Christie at his pater's place in Somerset.
It was Christie whom we called Mellins, because he was so tremendously
fat; and though he did not mind us doing so in the least, it was rather
awkward whilst we were staying in his house, for we could hardly help
calling his pater "Colonel Mellins".
You see, he was even fatter than Mellins himself, and the very first
night we were there--we were both just a little nervous--Toddles did
call him Colonel Mellins when we wished him "Good-night", and he glared
at us so fiercely, that we slunk up to our room and really thought we'd
better run away.
We even opened the window and looked out, feeling very miserable, to see
if it was possible to scramble down the ivy or the rusty old water-spout
without waking everybody, when Mellins suddenly burst in with a pillow
he had screwed up jolly hard, and nearly banged us out of the window. By
the time we had driven him back to his room at the other end of the
corridor, and flattened him out, we had forgotten all about it, and we
crept back like mice, and went to sleep.
It was just at this time that the papers came out with those
extraordinary yarns about the increase of piracy on the Chinese coast,
and how some Chinese merchants had clubbed together to buy ships in
England and fit out an expedition to clear the sea again.
You can imagine how interested we three were, especially as fifty years
ago Toddles's father had taken part in a great number of scraps with the
Cantonese pirates, and Toddles rattled off the most exciting yarns which
his father had told him.
We saw in the papers that the Admiralty was about to lend naval officers
to take command, but it never struck us that we might possibly get a
look in, till one morning a letter came for me from Cousin Milly, whose
father is an old admiral and lives at Fareham, and isn't particularly
pleasant when I go to see him.
My aunt! weren't we excited! Why, she actually wrote that if I wanted
to go she thought she could get me appointed to the squadron, as the
captain who was going in charge was a great friend of hers.
You can imagine what I wrote, and how I buttered her up and called her a
brick, and said she was a "perfect ripper". I ended up by saying that
"Mr. Arthur Bouchier Christie, midshipman, and Mr. Thomas Algernon
Foote, midshipman, chums of mine, would like to go too".
I was very careful to give their full names to prevent mistakes, and put
"midshipman" after their names just to show that they had also passed
out of the _Britannia_. near the top of the list, and so must be pretty
good at chasing "X and Y", which, of course, is a great "leg up" in the
navy.
Two mornings after this Milly sent me a postcard: "Hope to manage it for
the three of you".
We were so excited after that, that we did nothing but wait about for
the postman, and even went down to the village post-office and hung
about there, almost expecting a telegram.
Well, you would hardly believe it! The very next morning our
appointments were in the papers.
I have the list somewhere stowed away even now, and it began:
"The under-mentioned officers of the Royal Navy have been placed on
half-pay and lent to the Imperial Chinese Government for special
services".
Down at the bottom of the list was "Midshipmen", and we nearly tore
Colonel Christie's paper in our excitement as we read, in very small
print and among a lot of other names, Arthur B. Christie, Harold S.
Glover (that was myself--hurrah!), and Thomas A. Foote.
Well, I can't tell you much of what happened after that, for we were
simply mad with delight; but I do remember that when I rushed off home
my father and mother rather threw a damper over it all.
And when my gear had been packed and driven down to the station, I felt
rather a brute because everyone cried, and even my father was a little
husky when I wished him good-bye. I think something must have got into
my eye too, a fly, probably, but it wasn't there when the train ran into
Portsmouth Harbour station, and Mellins and Toddles met me and dragged
me to the end of the pier to get our first view of our new ship, which
was lying at Spithead.
Now you will have to read how all these things came about, or you will
never properly understand them.
*CHAPTER II*
*Helston receives a Strange Letter*
Helston's Bad Luck--Ping Sang tells of Pirates--Ping Sang makes
an Offer--Helston Jubilant
In the year 1896 two naval officers were living a somewhat humdrum,
monotonous existence in the quiet little Hampshire village of Fareham,
which nestles under the fort-crowned Portsdown Hills, and is almost
within earshot of the ceaseless clatter of riveting and hammering in the
mighty dockyards of Portsmouth.
These two men had both served many years before in the small gun-boat
_Porcupine_ out in China, and their many escapades and adventures had
frequently drawn down on their heads the wrath of the Admiral commanding
that station. Wherever the _Porcupine_ went, trouble of some sort or
another was sure to follow. At one place an indignant Taotai[#]
complained that all the guns--obsolete old muzzle-loaders--in his fort
had been tumbled into the ditch one night; at another they only just
escaped with their lives from an infuriated mob whilst actually carrying
from the temple a highly grotesque, but still more highly revered, joss,
at which desecration they had cajoled and bribed the local priests to
wink.
[#] Taotai = military magistrate.
Comrades in every adventure, and mess-mates during these four exciting
years, they had ultimately drifted together on half-pay, and, with their
old marine servant Jenkins, a taciturn old man, to look after them, had
settled down in this village.
Both men were below the age of forty, though a more accurate estimate
would have been difficult, for the shorter of the two bore himself with
the vigour and alertness of thirty, yet his face was old with the lines
and furrows of care and sadness, whilst the tall, gaunt figure of the
second was not held so erect, nor were his actions so vigorous, yet the
youthful fire in his eyes gave to his sea-tanned face and his thin,
tight-drawn lips and prominent jaw the appearance of a man who had not
yet reached the zenith of his manhood.
The shorter man was named Fox, a doctor, who had left the service when
he married, only to lose his wife a year later, and with her his whole
joy of existence. Settling down in this village, near her grave, he had
worked up a small practice, which occupied but little of his time, and
lived a life from which his great grief seemed to have removed any trace
of his former ambition.
Not so the taller man, Helston, a commander, who had been invalided and
placed on half-pay, suffering from the effects of fevers picked up
whilst cruising off the West Coast of Africa, in China, and in the
Mediterranean. Though his body was weakened by disease, he was for ever
buoyant at the prospects of being restored to health and full-pay, and
dreamed eagerly of the time when once more he could go afloat and
eventually command his own ship.
He, however, generally found a most unsympathetic audience in the
Doctor, who listened, with ill-concealed boredom, to his rose-
plans, and cynically would say, "Who goes to sea for enjoyment would go
to jail for a pastime. Take my advice and get a snug billet in the
coast-guard, and don't bother the sea any more. It's not done you much
good."
"It's all my bad luck, Doc, old chap," Helston would answer; "no fault
of the sea. I played the idiot when I was a youngster, was always in
disgrace up at the Admiralty, and now, with this rotten fever in me,
they won't employ me again."
But he would always finish with, "Well, I've waited patiently enough for
the last three years, and luck must turn soon".
On one such occasion, when the warmth and brightness of a May day had
made Helston more than usually enthusiastic as to his chances of
full-pay service, Dr. Fox, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, growled,
"Next ship, indeed! You talk of nothing but ships and sea, sea and
ships, when you ought to be buying a Bath chair to be wheeled about in."
"Never mind, old chap, I'm not as bad as that, and I'll bet you that
they give me a ship in less than six months!"
"If they do, I will come with you," jeered the Doctor, as he stalked
moodily to bed.
"That's a bargain," shouted Helston cheerfully after him.
Now one reason why Helston had settled down here with the Doctor, and
the great source of his ambitious dreams, was a certain lady named
Milly, who, with her father--his name is not necessary, for he was
always spoken of as "the Admiral", or "Miss Milly's father"--lived close
to the village. He had wooed her constantly for many years, and had
known her since she was born, but the somewhat disdainful little lady
had refused him many times, though not without giving him some slight
hope of better success if ever he were promoted to the rank of captain.
However, as Mistress Milly never personally enters this story, nothing
more need be said of her than that she was one of the most bewitching
little flirts who ever tyrannized over an old father, or played havoc
with the heart of every man she met.
A few weeks after this incident, and whilst the two were at breakfast,
the old village postman stumbled up the path leading to their house, and
Jenkins, a sombre, morose man of few words, brought in a big official
envelope.
"What did I say, old chap?" cried Helston excitedly, tearing it open.
"Didn't I say my luck would change? Hullo! this isn't an ordinary
appointment. Whatever is it?" A large number of papers fell on the
table, and, the Doctor showing some signs of interest, the two men
hurriedly examined them, Jenkins standing behind at attention in order
to learn the news.
The first one was from the Admiralty, informing Helston that the
enclosures had been received through the Chinese Embassy, and ordering
him to report himself at Whitehall immediately. These enclosures were
lists of ships supposed to be wrecked on the Chinese coast during the
last few years, lists of Chinese men-of-war supposed to have been
destroyed during the Chino-Japanese war, and papers showing the gradual
rise in insurance rates for the Chinese coasting trade.
"Where's your appointment?" sneered the Doctor. "I'm off to see my
patients."
"I've got it, Doc; look here! Do you remember that old mandarin we got
out of a scrape at Cheefoo once? Well, here's a letter from him.
Listen!" Saying which, Helston sat on the table and read it aloud,
whilst the Doctor filled his pipe impatiently:--
"DEAR COMMANDER HELSTON,--Perhaps you remember saving my life at Cheefoo
many years ago? Now perhaps I can do you a good turn.
"For the last three or four years there has been a very large number of
steamers, ships, and junks employed on the coast trade which have left
port under favourable circumstances and apparently in good condition,
yet have never been heard of since. The number has rapidly become so
great, that myself and several friends interested in the shipping trade
have suspected that these disappearances were not due to natural causes.
This year, for instance, three of our newest steamers have left Nagasaki
full of valuable cargo, and, though none of them could have experienced
bad weather, yet none have been heard of since. All three, strangely
enough, carried a large quantity of military stores for Pekin, which had
been transhipped from German steamers, and all three left within three
weeks. The captains were Englishmen--very good men, too--and what adds
to the peculiarity of their disappearance is, that the captain of the
English mail-steamer which followed the last out of harbour, and should
have passed her eight hours later if she had been on her proper course,
never sighted her. We searched the coast ineffectually for any trace of
wreckage, and it is only within the last two months that we have
obtained a clue.
"One of our large junks from Formosa, being short of water, made for an
island, previously reported as being only occasionally inhabited by
Korean fishermen. A few men went ashore to fill the casks, found the
fishing-nets deserted and no water, so followed a path leading inland
and winding up a hill. When nearly at the top they came across four
dead Chinamen hanging from trees, and although very frightened, they
still pushed on until they came in sight of the natural harbour on the
other side of the island. They swear solemnly that, lying at anchor,
they saw twenty or thirty steamers and several men-of-war, and that on
shore there were many storehouses (go-downs) and huts, and a very large
number of natives. They were just going down for water when one of these
men, who fortunately had formerly been one of the crew of the
_Tslai-ming_, our crack steamer, recognized her lying there. He is a
cute fellow, and at once jumped to the conclusion that these were
pirates (you remember how terribly frightened they are of 'pilons'?),
and ran back with his fellows to their boat.
"They brought this news to us.
"Four years ago, when this island was last visited, it was reported as
uninhabited. Personally I did not doubt the men's tale. In fact, they
are so frightened, and have spread their story so freely, that it is
difficult to get a crew together for any port south of Amoy.
"I have made very careful enquiries to account for the presence of the
men-of-war, and have discovered that many of the war-ships, and nearly
all the torpedo-boats which were run ashore to escape capture during the
late war, had disappeared.
"The local mandarins and officials of course know nothing, but from the
natives living near I find that large ships came and stayed near the
stranded ships for some weeks, and finally towed them away. There is no
doubt that two, if not three, cruisers in bad plight have been sold to a
couple of Europeans, and have disappeared, where, no one knows. A
couple of the Yangtze corvettes have also mysteriously vanished.
"I memorialized the throne, but they would do nothing, and made fun of
my report. The mandarins got hold of my informants, tortured them till
they denied the truth of their story, and then of course laughed at me.
"Trade was practically at a stand-still, so we decided to send one of
our best captains, an Englishman, to see if the men's story was correct.
He landed at night from a junk, disguised as a native, and spent a day
on the island, running great risks of detection, and being taken off
next night. He reports that there are certainly three cruisers and
seven torpedo-boats anchored there, and at least twenty coasting
steamers, among them being the three that disappeared when laden with
military stores. Great numbers of coolies were working at the narrow
entrance to the harbour, and, as far as he could see, they were mounting
guns behind earthworks. He thought he could distinguish some Europeans,
but is not certain. He brought a rough plan of the harbour, marking the
positions of ships, buildings, and guns.
"I decided to take him next day to some of the ministers whom I knew
personally, thinking that they would pay more attention to the word of
an Englishman. I must tell you that the three natives who first brought
the news and were tortured to deny it, have disappeared, and as they
were very honest, faithful men, I suspected some underhanded dealing,
and, thinking to keep the Englishman safe made him sleep in my _yamen_
that night. Next morning he had disappeared, and his body was found two
days later in a low quarter of the town, stripped of all valuables
including the plan, which he had in his pocket-book, although this
itself was not taken. The gatekeeper saw him go out, and there is no
doubt his habits were unsteady, but for all that his death is very
suspicious.
"Naturally I had no proof good enough for the Government, but my friends | 1,742.15414 |
2023-11-16 18:46:06.1371080 | 202 | 13 |
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[Illustration: THE MANUFACTURE OF 4.5-INCH CARTRIDGE CASES: OPERATING THE
DRAWING PRESS]
THE WOMAN'S PART
A Record of Munitions Work
by
L. K. YATES | 1,742.157148 |
2023-11-16 18:46:06.1829740 | 4,176 | 17 | LIGHT-HOUSE***
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Transcriber's note
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by tilde characters is underlined
(~underlined~).
A carat character is used to denote superscription. A
single character following the carat is superscripted
(example: THO^S).
[Illustration: BELL ROCK LIGHT HOUSE
_DURING A STORM FROM THE NORTH EAST_.
Drawn by J. M. W. Turner R. A.
Engraved by J. Horsburgh.]
AN ACCOUNT OF THE BELL ROCK LIGHT-HOUSE,
Including the Details of the Erection and Peculiar Structure
of That Edifice.
To Which Is Prefixed a Historical View of the Institution and
Progress of the Northern Light-Houses.
Illustrated with Twenty-Three Engravings.
Drawn Up by Desire of the Commissioners of the Northern Light-Houses,
by
ROBERT STEVENSON,
Civil Engineer;
Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh;
Member of the Society of Scotish Antiquaries, of the
Wernerian Natural History Society,
and of the Geological Society of London;
Engineer to the Northern Light-House Board, and to the Convention
of Royal Boroughs of Scotland.
Edinburgh:
Printed for Archibald Constable & Co. Edinburgh;
Hurst, Robinson & Co. 90. Cheapside; and Josiah Taylor, 50. High
Holborn,
London.
1824.
TO
THE KING.
_SIRE_,
_It is with much diffidence that the author now lays before Your
Majesty, an Account of the arduous national undertaking of erecting a
Light-house on the Bell Rock,--a sunk reef, lying about eleven miles
from the shore, and so situated as to have long proved an object of
dread to mariners on the eastern coast of Scotland, especially when
making for the Friths of Forth and Tay._
_This edifice being of the utmost consequence to the safety of
Your Majesty’s Ships of War upon the North Sea station, and of the
commercial shipping of this part of the empire, he presumes to hope
for Your Majesty’s favourable acceptance of his work. From the known
partiality, also, of Your Majesty for naval excursions, which so
recently led the Royal Squadron within a comparatively short distance
of the Bell Rock Light-house, in the course of Your Majesty’s most
gracious Visit to your ancient Kingdom of Scotland, he flatters himself
that Your Majesty may feel an additional interest in the subject of
this volume._
_The Introduction to this work brings generally under Your Majesty’s
notice, the important labours of the Scottish Light-house Board,
appointed by an act of the 26th Parliament of Your Majesty’s
illustrious FATHER. Since that period, Light-house stations have been
partially extended over the whole northern shores of Your Majesty’s
British dominions, from Inchkeith in the Firth of Forth, to the Isle
of Man in the Irish Sea, including in this circuit the Hebrides, and
Orkney and Shetland Islands. Much, however, still remains to be done;
and the Board is gradually proceeding, as the state of its funds will
permit, in placing additional Sea-Lights on certain intermediate points
of the coast._
_It cannot fail to be gratifying to Your Majesty to learn, as the
result of the exertions of this Board, that the mariner may now
navigate those regions with a degree of security and confidence quite
unknown to Your Majesty’s Royal Ancestor JAMES THE FIFTH, when he
sailed around this coast in the 16th century, or even, at a recent
period, to Your Majesty’s Royal Brother WILLIAM HENRY Duke of Clarence,
when in early life he traversed those seas._
_With unfeigned sentiments of loyalty and attachment, the author
subscribes himself,_
_Your MAJESTY’S
Most devoted Subject and Servant,
ROBERT STEVENSON_.
THE
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
HISTORICAL NARRATIVE OF THE INSTITUTION OF THE BOARD OF COMMISSIONERS,
AND PROGRESS MADE IN THE ERECTION OF THE NORTHERN
LIGHT-HOUSES.
Page
Early Voyages of the Scots. Extension of Trade. Charts of the Coast. 1-4
1786. Proposition for the establishment of a Light-house Board in
Scotland. Original act passed in 1786. Commissioners appointed.
First Meeting of the Board. Mode of raising Funds. 5-6
1787. Kinnaird-Head and Mull of Kintyre Light-houses. 6-8
1788. Light Duty found to be too small. Act of 1788. 9
1789. Island Glass, North Ronaldsay, and Pladda Light-houses.
Collectors of the Light-Duties appointed. 10-11
1791. Pladda distinguishing Light. Annual Supply and Inspection
of the Light-houses. Light-keepers’ Salary. Economical plan of
early Light-houses. 12-14
1793. Application for Additional Lights. State of the Light-house
Funds. 14-15
1794. Pentland Skerry Light-house. Writer’s first Voyage to the
North. Loss of the Sloop Elizabeth. Mr Balfour and Mr Riddoch
of Orkney presented with Pieces of Plate. 15-17
Act Incorporating the Commissioners into a Board or Body Politic.
Additional works at the Light-houses already built. Proposition
for altering Kinnaird-Head Light-house. 18-19
1801. Numerous Shipwrecks on the Island of Sanday. Proofs of a
severe winter in Orkney. Quarries at Sanday and Eda. Encroachments
of the Sea. Remarks on Ruble Building, and Houses with double
walls. Foundation-Stone of Start Point Light-house laid. Reverend
Walter Traill’s Address upon this occasion. 19-23
1803. Inchkeith Light-house. Originally proposed as a Leading
Light. Duty for Inchkeith modified. Light-keepers Accommodations
extended. Construction of Light-rooms and Reflectors improved.
Inscription upon Inchkeith Light-house. Pilot’s guard-room.
Shipwrecked Seamen sheltered. 24-29
1806. Start-Point Light exhibited, and North Ronaldsay Light-house
converted into a Beacon. List of 22 Shipwrecks on the Island of
Sanday, in the course of Twelve Years. Foreman and Artificers lost
in the Traveller. Captain Manby’s Apparatus, 30-34
Island of May Light-house. Patent ratified 1641; the Duty for
that Light complained of after the Union. Family of Scotstarvet
become Proprietors. Chamber of Commerce get that Light improved.
Portland Family become Proprietors. Loss of the Nymphen
and Pallas Frigates. Lord Melville, First Lord of the Admiralty,
applies to the Light-house Board, by whom the Duties and Island
of May are purchased. Additional apartments provided at the
Isle of May. Notice of the alteration of this Light and that of
Inchkeith. Pilot’s guard-room. 36-41
1815. Corsewall Light-house. Foundation-stone laid. Light
exhibited. 42-44
1818. Isle of Man Light-houses. Writer’s Report in the year 1802,
relative to the erection of Light-houses on the Isle of Man. Trade
of Liverpool applies to the Commissioners to erect them. Act of
1815, obtained by Sir W. Rae, with regard to these Lights.
Difficulty of fixing their Sites. Lights exhibited 1st February
1818. Sum expended by the Light-house Board, on the East Coast,
in the course of 10 years. 44-48
1821. Sumburgh-head Light exhibited. This House built with double
walls, 52
Carr Rock Beacon. List of 16 vessels wrecked there in the course of
nine years. Floating-Buoy moored off this dangerous Reef. Beacon
of Masonry designed, with Tide-machine and Bell-apparatus.
Dimensions of Carr Rock. Difficulties of this work. It is frequently
damaged in Storms. The upper part ultimately completed
with cast-iron, without the Alarm-Bell. 56-62
Duties exigible. Expence of Management. Accounts of the Light-house
Board made public. Application of the Funds, and disposal
of the Surplus. Practical Management. 63-64
ACCOUNT OF THE BELL ROCK LIGHT-HOUSE.
CHAP. I.
NAME, SITUATION, DIMENSIONS, AND NATURAL HISTORY, OF THE BELL
ROCK.--DEPTH OF WATER, AND CURRENT OF THE TIDES IN ITS VICINITY.
Page
Origin of the Names Inch-Cape and Bell Rock. Tradition of a Bell
erected by one of the Abbots of Aberbrothock. 67-68
Situation, Dimensions, and Mineralogy of the Rock. Wasting effects
of the Sea. Proofs of its having occupied a higher Level. 69-71
Plants, Animals, Insect destructive to Timber. Experiment with
pieces of Timber fixed to the Rock. Mussels attempted to be
planted upon it. Habits of Fishes. 72-74
Depth of Water upon the Rock, and at the distance of 100 yards
from it. Tides at the Rock. Not accounted for by Writers on the
subject. Progress of the great Waves of the Tide. Periods of
High-water at different places in the Firth of Forth. Currents at
the Mouth of the River Dee. Water salt at bottom and fresh at top.
Phenomenon of _in_ and _off_ shore Tides. Tides of Mediterranean
and Baltic Seas. 75-81
CHAP. II.
POSITION OF THE BELL ROCK.--DESIGNS FOR THE LIGHT-HOUSE.--BILL
BY LORD ADVOCATE HOPE IN 1803.--BILL BY LORD ADVOCATE ERSKINE
IN 1806.--REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.--PASSING
OF THE BILL.
Dangerous Position of the Rock. Sir Alexander Cochrane’s Letter to
the Light-house Board. Great Storm in 1799. Expence of the
Light-house, as estimated by the Public. Designs by Captain Brodie
and Mr Cooper. Captain Brodie’s remuneration. The Writer’s first
visit to the Rock in the year 1800. Pillar-formed Building compared
with one of Stone. Mr Telford requested to give a Design. Mr
Downie’s Pillar-formed Design. 81-93
Bell Rock Light-house proposed at the Convention of Royal Burghs.
Lord Advocate Hope’s Bill is lost in the House of Lords in 1803. 94-95
The Light-house Board consults Mr Rennie, who visits the Rock with
Mr Hamilton, and the Writer. The Commissioners take the sense of
certain Ports relative to the measure. Reports of the Traders in
Leith and Berwick. Resolution of the Board to apply again to
Parliament. 94-98
Lord Advocate Erskine’s Bill 1806. Mr Hamilton and the Writer
go to London on this business. Loan from Government doubtful.
Board of Trade favourable to the Loan. Memorial to the Board
of Trade. Sir Joseph Banks’s exertions. Bill read first and
second times. Report brought up by Sir John Sinclair. Report
of the Committee. Bill meets with some opposition at the third
reading, but is passed. 100-105
CHAP. III.--1807.
FLOATING-LIGHT SHIP.--COMMENCEMENT OF THE OPERATIONS ON THE
ROCK.--ERECTION OF THE BEACON-HOUSE, AND PROGRESS OF THE
WORKS.
The Act provides for the mooring of a Floating-Light. Fishing
Dogger purchased, fitted out and moored, under the direction
of a Committee of the Trinity-House of Leith, and named the
Pharos. Peculiar construction of her Lanterns and Moorings.
She sails for her station. A Committee from Arbroath joins the
party at the Isle of May. Is anchored in a temporary birth. Her
moorings unexpectedly slip over-board, and are recovered with
much difficulty. Description of the Pharos. 107-114
Commencement of the Operations at the Rock. Sloop Smeaton.
Positions of the Beacon and Light-house fixed upon. First
trip of the Artificers to the Rock on the 7th August. Rate of
Wages. Letter from Aberdeen Masons. Lines from Dibdin. 115-120
Erection of the Beacon-House. Work commenced 18th August.
Method of fixing iron-bats into the Rock. Landing-master’s
duty. Indications of the state of the Weather. Dangerous
situation of the Rock in Foggy weather. Artificers amuse
themselves with fishing while the Rock is under water. The
fixing of the Smith’s Forge completed. Valuable services of the
Smiths on the Bell Rock. Much wanted at the Edystone. The Seals
desert the Rock. 120-126
Hampered state of the Artificers on ship-board. Inconveniencies
of the Pharos as a Tender. Difficulty of getting on board.
Artificers become expert rowers. Their rations of Provisions.
“Saturday-Night at Sea.” 127-130
Reasons for continuing the works upon the Rock during part of
Sundays. Preparations for having Prayers on deck. Prayer
composed by the Reverend Dr A. Brunton. Some of the Artificers
decline working on Sunday. Additional Pay for Sunday’s work. 131-135
Artificers work knee-deep in water during neap-tides. Operations
at the Rock entirely confined to the Beacon. Description of the
operation of boring holes in the Rock. Difficult situation of
the Smiths. 135-137
Wind-Gauge much wanted, to afford a better nomenclature to
Seamen. Difficult passage with the boats from the Rock to
the Tender. Life-Buoy streamed on this occasion. A Tender is
ordered exclusively for the service of the Rock. Some of the
Artificers apply for leave ashore. Landing made upon the Rock
after a gale. 138-141
Method of fixing the great iron-stanchions into the Rock.
Longest day’s work hitherto had upon it. Smeaton brings
off a cargo of stones for making the experiment of landing
them. Various methods suggested for this critical operation.
Stones first landed on the Rock. Mode originally adopted
for attaching the Stone-lighters to their moorings. Smeaton
breaks adrift. Perilous situation of those on the Rock.
Pilot-boat fortunately comes to their relief. The Boats have
a rough passage to the Floating-light. The Smeaton bears away
for Arbroath. Indispensable utility of the Beacon-house.
Eighteen of the Artificers decline embarking for the Rock.
The boats, nevertheless, proceed with the remaining eight.
Captain Pool’s account of the drifting of the Smeaton, 142-152
The comparative level of the site of the Building
ascertained. Full complement of Buoys moored. Floating-light
rides out a strong gale. State of the vessel. The Writer
consults with the Officers of the ship relative to the
probable effect of her breaking adrift. The gale takes off.
Appearance of the Sea on the Rock. The Floating-light breaks
adrift. Her cables supposed to have been cut by a piece of
wreck. Difficulty of managing this vessel. She is anchored
and moored in a new station. Her Light is first exhibited on
the 15th of September 1807. 153-164
Light-house Yacht for a time becomes the Tender at the Rock.
Artificers agree to continue on board of her beyond the term
of their engagement. An accident happens to one of the Boats. 164-165
The Smeaton arrives at the Rock, 18th September, with the
Beams of the Beacon-house. Preparations made, and four of the
principal ones erected. Method of raising them, and fixing
the great Iron-Stanchions. Seven hours’ work upon the Rock
in one ebb-tide. The remaining two principal, and four of the
supporting beams, erected. 166-171
The Boats have some difficulty in leaving the Rock. Shipping
dispersed in a gale. Land again after an absence of four
days. Smith’s Forge removed from the Rock to the Beacon.
Writer lands at Arbroath, after having been four weeks
afloat. 172-174
The vessels are again separated in a gale. A landing effected
at the Rock. State of the Beacon. Working hours extended.
Beacon-works finished for the season. Mr John Rennie, and his
son Mr George, visit the Rock. Number of days during which
the Artificers were at work. 175-180
Progress of Operations in the Work-yard. Writer visits the
Rock 22d November. State of the Beacon. Professor Playfair’s
observations about the unlocking of Screws. State of the
Floating-light. 181-188
CHAP. IV.--1808.
SHIPPING.--IMPLEMENTS.--BUILDING MATERIALS; AND PROGRESS OF
THE WORKS.
Praam-boats built with a water-tight ceiling or lining.
Method of mooring the Praam-boats. Attending boats, one of
which is fitted up as a Life-boat. 187-188
Railways, Waggons, Sheer-crane, Moveable-beam-crane,
Sling-cart, Carpenters’ Jack, Lewis-bat, Moulds, Coffer-dam,
Pumps, Winch-machine. 189-196
Mineralogy of eastern coast. Report of Messrs Rennie and
Stevenson, about Stone. The use of Granite resolved upon.
Mortar of the Ancients. Attention of the Moderns to this
subject. Mortar of the Edystone and Bell Rock, Lime,
Pozzolano, Sand, Water, Cement. Oaken trenails, and Wedges. 196-204
The Writer visits the Rock 30th March. Floating-light’s crew.
Light comparatively feeble. Landing at the Rock difficult.
State of the Beacon. | 1,742.203014 |
2023-11-16 18:46:06.2787370 | 2,024 | 39 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by Google Books
THE GOLDEN FLOOD
By Edwin Lefevre
Illustrated By W. R. Leigh
New York
McClure, Phillips & Co.
1905
TO
DANIEL GRAY REID
PART ONE: THE FLOOD
The president looked up from the underwriters’ plan of the latest
“Industrial” consolidation capital stock, $100,000,000; assets, for
publication, $100,000,000 which the syndicate’s lawyers had pronounced
perfectly legal. Judiciously advertised, the stock probably would be
oversubscribed. The profits ought to be enormous. He was one of the
underwriters.
“What is it?” he asked. He did not frown, but his voice was as though
hung with icicles. The assistant cashier, an imaginative man in the
wrong place, shivered.
“This gentleman,” he said, giving a card to the president, “wishes to
make a deposit of one hundred thousand dollars.”
The president looked at the card. He read on it:
_MR. GEORGE KITCHELL GRINELL_
“Who sent him to us?” he asked.
“I don’t know, sir. He said he had a letter of introduction to you,”
answered the assistant cashier, disclaiming all responsibility in the
matter.
The president read the card a second time. The name was unfamiliar.
“Grinnell?” he muttered. “Grinnell? Never heard of him.” Perhaps he felt
it was poor policy to show ignorance on any matter whatever. When he
spoke again, it was in a voice overflowing with a dignity that was a
subtle rebuke to all assistant cashiers:
“I will see him.”
He busied himself once more with the typewritten documents before him,
lost in its alluring possibilities, until he became conscious of a
presence near him. He still waited, purposely, before looking up. He was
a very busy man, and all the world must know it. At length he raised his
head majestically, and turned--an animated fragment of a glacier--until
his eyes rested on the stranger’s.
“Good-morning, sir,” he said politely.
“Good-morning, Mr. Dawson,” said the stranger. He was a young man,
conceivably under thirty, of medium height, square of shoulders,
clean-shaven, and clear-skinned. He had brown hair and brown eyes.
His dress hinted at careful habits rather than at fashionable tailors.
Gold-rimmed spectacles gave him a studious air, which disappeared
whenever he spoke. As if at the sound of his own voice, his eyes took on
a look of alert self-confidence which interested the bank president.
Mr. Dawson was deeply prejudiced against the look of extreme astuteness,
blended with the desire to create a favourable impression, so familiar
to him as the president of the richest bank in Wall Street.
“You are Mr.----” The president looked at the stranger’s card as though
he had left it unread until he had finished far more important business.
It really was unnecessary; but it had become a habit, which he lost only
when speaking to his equals or his superiors in wealth.
“Grinnell,” prompted the stranger, very calmly. He was so unimpressed by
the president that the president was impressed by him.
“Ah, yes. Mr. Williams tells me you wish to become one of our
depositors?”
“Yes, sir. I have here,” taking a slip of paper from his pocket-book,
“an Assay Office check on the Sub-Treasury. It is for a trifle over a
hundred thousand dollars.”
Even the greatest bank in Wall Street must have a kindly feeling toward
depositors of a hundred thousand dollars. Mr. Dawson permitted himself
to smile graciously.
“I am sure we shall be glad to have your account, Mr. Grinnell,” he
said. “You are in business in----” The slight arching of his eyebrows,
rather than the inflection of his voice, made his words a delicate
interrogation. He was a small, slender man, greyhaired and
grey-moustached, with an air of polite aloofness from trivialities. His
manners were what you might expect of a man whose grandfather had been
Minister to France, and had never forgotten it; nor had his children.
His self-possession was so great that it was not noticeable.
“I am not in any business, Mr. Dawson, unless,” said the young man
with a smile that deprived his voice of any semblance of pertness or of
premeditated discourtesy, “it is the business of depositing $103,648.67
with the Metropolitan National Bank. My friend, Professor Willetts, of
Columbia, gave me a letter of introduction. Here it is. I may say,
Mr. Dawson, that I haven’t the slightest intention of disturbing this
account, as far as I know now, for an indefinite period.” The president
read the letter. It was from the professor of metallurgy at Columbia,
who was an old acquaintance of Dawson’s. It merely said that George K.
Grinnell was one of his old students, a graduate of the School of
Mines, who had asked him to suggest a safe bank of deposit. This the
Metropolitan certainly was. He had asked his young friend to attach his
own signature at the bottom, since Grinnell had no other bank accounts,
and no other way of having his signature verified. Mr. Grinnell had said
he wished his money to be absolutely safe, and Professor Willetts took
great pleasure in sending him to Mr. Dawson.
Mr. Dawson bowed his head--an acquiescence meant to be encouraging.
To the young man the necessity for such encouragement was not clear.
Possibly it showed in his eyes, for Mr. Dawson said very politely, in
an almost courtly way he had at times to show some people that an
aristocrat could do business aristocratically:
“It is not usual for us to accept accounts from strangers. We do not
really know.” very gently, “that you are the man to whom this letter was
given, nor that your signature is that of Mr. George K. Grinnell.”
The young man laughed pleasantly. “I see your position, Mr. Dawson, but,
really, I am not important enough to be impersonated by anybody. As for
my being George K. Grinnell, I’ve laboured under that impression for
twenty-nine years. I’ll have Professor Willetts in person introduce me,
if you wish. I have some letters----” He made a motion toward his breast
pocket, but Mr. Dawson held up a hand in polite dissent; he was above
suspicions. “And as for my signature, if you will send a clerk with me
to the Assay Office, next door they will doubtless verify it to your
satisfaction; I can just as easily bring legal tender notes, I suppose.
In any case, as I have no intention of touching this money for some time
to come, I suppose the bank will be safe from----”
“Oh,” interrupted Dawson, with a sort of subdued cordiality, “as I told
you before, while we do not usually take accounts from people of whom we
know nothing in a business way, we will make an exception in your case.”
That the young man might not think the bank’s eagerness for deposits
made its officers unbusinesslike, the president added, with a
politely explanatory smile: “Professor Willetts’s letter is sufficient
introduction. As you say you are not in business--”
He paused and looked at the young man for confirmation.
“No, sir; I happen to have this money, and I desire a safe place to
keep it in. I may bring a little more. It depends upon certain family
matters. But that is for the future to decide. In the meantime, I should
like to leave this money here, untouched.”
“Very well, sir.” The president pushed a button on his desk.
A bright-looking, neatly dressed office-boy appeared, his face
exaggeratedly attentive.
“Ask Mr. Williams to come in, please.” The office-boy turned on his
heels as by a military command, and hastened away. It was the bank’s
training; the president’s admirers said it showed his genius for
organization down to the smallest detail. Presently the assistant
cashier entered.
“Mr. Williams, Mr. Grinnell will be one of our most valued depositors.
We must show him that we appreciate his confidence in us. Kindly attend
to the necessary details.” Mr. Dawson paused. Perhaps his hesitancy
was meant as an invitation to Mr. George Kitchell Grinnell to vouchsafe
further information of a personal nature. But Mr. Grinnell said, with a
smile: “Many thanks, Mr. Dawson,” and Mr. Dawson smiled back, politely.
As the men turned to go, he took up the underwriting plan and forgot
all about the incident. It was a Thursday. It might as well have been a
Monday or a Tuesday; but it was not.
Mr. Williams called up Professor Willetts on the telephone, who said he
had given a letter of introduction to George K. Grinnell. He described
Grinnell’s appearance, and added that Grinnell had been one of his
students, and | 1,742.298777 |
2023-11-16 18:46:06.2788770 | 1,878 | 12 |
Produced by David Widger
VILLA RUBEIN AND OTHER STORIES
By John Galsworthy
_[ED. NOTE: Spelling conforms to the original: "s's" instead of our
"z's"; and "c's" where we would have "s's"; and "...our" as in colour
and flavour; many interesting double consonants; etc.]_
Contents:
Villa Rubein
A Man of Devon
A Knight
Salvation of a Forsyte
The Silence
VILLA RUBEIN
PREFACE
Writing not long ago to my oldest literary friend, I expressed in a
moment of heedless sentiment the wish that we might have again one of
our talks of long-past days, over the purposes and methods of our art.
And my friend, wiser than I, as he has always been, replied with this
doubting phrase "Could we recapture the zest of that old time?"
I would not like to believe that our faith in the value of imaginative
art has diminished, that we think it less worth while to struggle for
glimpses of truth and for the words which may pass them on to other
eyes; or that we can no longer discern the star we tried to follow; but
I do fear, with him, that half a lifetime of endeavour has dulled the
exuberance which kept one up till morning discussing the ways and means
of aesthetic achievement. We have discovered, perhaps with a certain
finality, that by no talk can a writer add a cubit to his stature, or
change the temperament which moulds and colours the vision of life he
sets before the few who will pause to look at it. And so--the rest is
silence, and what of work we may still do will be done in that dogged
muteness which is the lot of advancing years.
Other times, other men and modes, but not other truth. Truth, though
essentially relative, like Einstein's theory, will never lose its
ever-new and unique quality-perfect proportion; for Truth, to the human
consciousness at least, is but that vitally just relation of part to
whole which is the very condition of life itself. And the task before
the imaginative writer, whether at the end of the last century or all
these aeons later, is the presentation of a vision which to eye and ear
and mind has the implicit proportions of Truth.
I confess to have always looked for a certain flavour in the writings of
others, and craved it for my own, believing that all true vision is so
by the temperament of the seer, as to have not only the just
proportions but the essential novelty of a living thing for, after all,
no two living things are alike. A work of fiction should carry the hall
mark of its author as surely as a Goya, a Daumier, a Velasquez, and a
Mathew Maris, should be the unmistakable creations of those masters.
This is not to speak of tricks and manners which lend themselves to that
facile elf, the caricaturist, but of a certain individual way of seeing
and feeling. A young poet once said of another and more popular poet:
"Oh! yes, but be cuts no ice." And, when one came to think of it, he did
not; a certain flabbiness of spirit, a lack of temperament, an absence,
perhaps, of the ironic, or passionate, view, insubstantiated his work;
it had no edge--just a felicity which passed for distinction with the
crowd.
Let me not be understood to imply that a novel should be a sort of
sandwich, in which the author's mood or philosophy is the slice of ham.
One's demand is for a far more subtle impregnation of flavour; just
that, for instance, which makes De Maupassant a more poignant and
fascinating writer than his master Flaubert, Dickens and Thackeray more
living and permanent than George Eliot or Trollope. It once fell to
my lot to be the preliminary critic of a book on painting, designed to
prove that the artist's sole function was the impersonal elucidation of
the truths of nature. I was regretfully compelled to observe that there
were no such things as the truths of Nature, for the purposes of art,
apart from the individual vision of the artist. Seer and thing seen,
inextricably involved one with the other, form the texture of any
masterpiece; and I, at least, demand therefrom a distinct impression
of temperament. I never saw, in the flesh, either De Maupassant or
Tchekov--those masters of such different methods entirely devoid of
didacticism--but their work leaves on me a strangely potent sense of
personality. Such subtle intermingling of seer with thing seen is the
outcome only of long and intricate brooding, a process not too favoured
by modern life, yet without which we achieve little but a fluent chaos
of clever insignificant impressions, a kind of glorified journalism,
holding much the same relation to the deeply-impregnated work of
Turgenev, Hardy, and Conrad, as a film bears to a play.
Speaking for myself, with the immodesty required of one who hazards
an introduction to his own work, I was writing fiction for five years
before I could master even its primary technique, much less achieve that
union of seer with thing seen, which perhaps begins to show itself a
little in this volume--binding up the scanty harvests of 1899, 1900, and
1901--especially in the tales: "A Knight," and "Salvation of a Forsyte."
Men, women, trees, and works of fiction--very tiny are the seeds from
which they spring. I used really to see the "Knight"--in 1896, was
it?--sitting in the "Place" in front of the Casino at Monte Carlo; and
because his dried-up elegance, his burnt straw hat, quiet courtesy of
attitude, and big dog, used to fascinate and intrigue me, I began to
imagine his life so as to answer my own questions and to satisfy, I
suppose, the mood I was in. I never spoke to him, I never saw him again.
His real story, no doubt, was as different from that which I wove around
his figure as night from day.
As for Swithin, wild horses will not drag from me confession of where
and when I first saw the prototype which became enlarged to his bulky
stature. I owe Swithin much, for he first released the satirist in me,
and is, moreover, the only one of my characters whom I killed before I
gave him life, for it is in "The Man of Property" that Swithin Forsyte
more memorably lives.
Ranging beyond this volume, I cannot recollect writing the first words
of "The Island Pharisees"--but it would be about August, 1901. Like all
the stories in "Villa Rubein," and, indeed, most of my tales, the book
originated in the curiosity, philosophic reflections, and unphilosophic
emotions roused in me by some single figure in real life. In this case
it was Ferrand, whose real name, of course, was not Ferrand, and who
died in some "sacred institution" many years ago of a consumption
brought on by the conditions of his wandering life. If not "a beloved,"
he was a true vagabond, and I first met him in the Champs Elysees, just
as in "The Pigeon" he describes his meeting with Wellwyn. Though drawn
very much from life, he did not in the end turn out very like the
Ferrand of real life--the figures of fiction soon diverge from their
prototypes.
The first draft of "The Island Pharisees" was buried in a drawer; when
retrieved the other day, after nineteen years, it disclosed a picaresque
string of anecdotes told by Ferrand in the first person. These
two-thirds of a book were laid to rest by Edward Garnett's dictum that
its author was not sufficiently within Ferrand's skin; and, struggling
heavily with laziness and pride, he started afresh in the skin of
Shelton. Three times be wrote that novel, and then it was long in
finding the eye of Sydney Pawling, who accepted it for Heinemann's in
1904. That was a period of ferment and transition with me, a kind of
long awakening to the home truths of social existence and national
character. The liquor bubbled too furiously for clear bott | 1,742.298917 |
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Produced by Chuck Greif, Broward County Libraries and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: George William Curtis]
FROM THE
EASY CHAIR
BY
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS
_THIRD SERIES_
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HARPER AND BROTHERS
MDCCCXCIV
Copyright, 1894, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
CONTENTS
PAGE
HAWTHORNE AND BROOK FARM 1
BEECHER IN HIS PULPIT AFTER THE DEATH OF LINCOLN 20
KILLING DEER 28
AUTUMN DAYS 37
FROM COMO TO MILAN DURING THE WAR OF 1848 43
HERBERT SPENCER ON THE YANKEE 56
HONOR 65
JO | 1,742.399029 |
2023-11-16 18:46:25.8557020 | 833 | 9 |
Produced by MWS, Fay Dunn and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Transcriber’s Note
Words in italics are marked with _underscores_.
Words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE.
Sidenotes showing the year have been moved to the start of paragraphs,
and kept only when they change. For some long paragraphs a range of
dates is shown.
Other sidenotes give the actual date of an event. These have been moved
next to the description of the date, and are shown in parentheses, e.g.
{30 May}. Others, which merely repeat a date, have been removed.
Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the end of chapters.
All references to footnote numbers (i.e. page and note number) have
been changed to the footnote numbers used here.
The keys of the maps are shown in the descriptions of the
illustrations, additions by the transcriber are shown in pararenthes.
Some formatting and punctuation in citations, sidenotes and the index
have been standardized.
Variant spelling, inconsistent hyphenation and inconsistent spelling
of people’s names are retained, however a few palpable printing errors
have been corrected.
The errata list is in the note at the end of the book.
JOHN LACKLAND
[Illustration: MacMillan and Co.’s monogram]
JOHN LACKLAND
BY
KATE NORGATE
_WITH MAPS_
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1902
_All rights reserved_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
JOHN LACKLAND, 1167–1189 1
CHAPTER II
JOHN COUNT OF MORTAIN, 1189–1199 24
CHAPTER III
JOHN “SOFTSWORD,” 1199–1206 64
CHAPTER IV
KING JOHN, 1206–1210 118
CHAPTER V
JOHN AND THE POPE, 1210–1214 157
CHAPTER VI
JOHN AND THE BARONS, 1214–1215 210
CHAPTER VII
JOHN LACKLAND, 1215–1216 247
NOTE I
JOHN AND THE DE BRAOSES 287
NOTE II
EUSTACE DE VESCI AND ROBERT FITZ-WALTER 289
INDEX 295
LIST OF MAPS
I. IRELAND ACCORDING TO THE TREATY OF 1175 _To face page_ 12
II. IRELAND ACCORDING TO HENRY’S DISTRIBUTION, 1177 ” 14
III. IRELAND, A.D. 1185 ” 17
IV. ENGLAND, A.D. 1190 ” 27
V. IRELAND, A.D. 1210 ” 151
“The closer study of John’s history clears away the charges of sloth
and incapacity with which men tried to explain the greatness of his
fall. The awful lesson of his life rests on the fact that the king
who lost Normandy, became the vassal of the Pope, and perished in a
struggle of despair against English freedom was no weak and indolent
voluptuary but the ablest and most ruthless of the Angevins.”
JOHN RICHARD GREEN.
CHAPTER I
JOHN LACKLAND
1167–1189
.... Johan sanz Terre,
Por qui il[1] ot tant noise e guere.
_Estoire de la Guerre Sainte_, vv | 1,761.875742 |
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Produced by Delphine Lettau & the online Distributed
Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net
FENELON's TREATISE
ON THE
EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS.
[Illustration: Woman reading to girl]
_Delightful task! to rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot._
FENELON's TREATISE
ON THE EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS:
_TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH_,
AND
ADAPTED TO ENGLISH READERS,
With an Original Chapter,
"On Religious Studies."
BY THE REV. T. F. DIBDIN, B.A. F.A.S.
Author of
"_An Introduction to the Knowledge of the best Editions of
the Greek and Latin Classics_," _&c._
"Chaste and modest writings never alter the honour of any gentlewoman.
For as the remembrance of infamous persons is much detested and hated
by the _Muses_--so is the glory and renown of the virtuous installed
by them in eternal memory for ever."
PASTORALS OF JULIETTA. _Fol. Edit._ 1610.
_Pt. 3_, _p._ 88.
So in this pilgrimage I would behold
You, as you are--VIRTUE'S TEMPLE!
DONNE'S POEMS. _Edit._ 1650. _p._ 156.
[_To the Countess of Bedford._]
_CHELTENHAM_:
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY H. RUFF: AND SOLD BY
LONGMAN, HURST, REES AND ORME, LONDON.
1805.
Entered at Stationers' Hall.
TO
HER GRACE GEORGIANA
_DUCHESS OF BEDFORD_,
WHOSE AMIABLE DISPOSITION,
ACCOMPLISHED MANNERS,
AND
ELEVATED RANK,
_RENDER HER_
THE ESTEEM AND ADMIRATION
OF
_THE GREAT AND THE VIRTUOUS_,
This small Tribute
OF GRATITUDE AND RESPECT
_IS DEDICATED_
BY HER OBLIGED
AND OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVANT,
H. RUFF.
PREFACE.
The Translation of the following Work was undertaken at the request of
Mr. RUFF, the Publisher, who wished me to paraphrase what I thought
might more particularly interest and edify the English reader.
It is dedicated, by the Publisher, to her Grace the DUCHESS OF BEDFORD
--and he is anxious that it may be found worthy of her patronage.
The original French work was first published in 1688; and the earliest
English translation appeared in 1707. This translation, which was by
Dr. Hickes, I have never seen. In the year 1797, another [anonymous]
English translation was printed at Hull, in a duodecimo volume. In this
performance there is so close an adherence to the idiom of the French
language, that almost every page abounds with gallicisms. It is not,
however, entirely destitute of merit; but it appears, on the whole,
to have been hastily executed for the purpose of ensuring a cheap and
extensive sale.
The present translation is offered to the public, with a full conviction
of its inadequacy to give a just idea of the beauty and force of the
original. The author of "_Telemaque_" and "_De l'Education des Filles_"
appears, on a comparison of these two performances, very | 1,761.975819 |
2023-11-16 18:46:26.0533100 | 71 | 21 |
Produced by Sam Whitehead, Suzanne Shell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE PRICE
BY
FRANCIS LYNDE
AUTHOR OF
THE TAMING OF RED BUTTE WESTERN, ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUN | 1,762.07335 |
2023-11-16 18:46:26.0551500 | 3,235 | 6 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Robert Prince, and
the Online Distributed Proofresding Team
THE VELVET GLOVE
By
Henry Seton Merriman
(HUGH STOWELL SCOTT)
Contents:
I. IN THE CITY OF THE WINDS
II. EVASIO MON
III. WITHIN THE HIGH WALLS
IV. THE JADE--CHANCE
V. A PILGRIMAGE
VI. PILGRIMS
VII. THE ALTERNATIVE
VIII. THE TRAIL
IX. THE QUARRY
X. THISBE
XI. THE ROYAL ADVENTURE
XII. IN A STRONG CITY
XIII. THE GRIP OF THE VELVET GLOVE
XIV. IN THE CLOISTER
XV. OUR LADY OF THE SHADOWS
XVI. THE MATTRESS BEATER
XVII. AT THE INN OF THE TWO TREES
XVIII. THE MAKERS OF HISTORY
XIX. COUSIN PELIGROS
XX. AT TORRE GARDA
XXI. JUANITA GROWS UP
XXII. AN ACCIDENT
XXIII. KIND INQUIRIES
XXIV. THE STORMY PETREL
XXV. WAR'S ALARM
XXVI. AT THE FORD
XXVII. IN THE CLOUDS
XXVIII. LE GANT DE VELOURS
XXIX. LA MAIN DE FER
XXX. THE CASTING VOTE
List of Illustrations:
"'ARE YOU SURE YOU HAVE NOT HEARD FROM PAPA?'"
"A MOMENT LATER THE TRAVELER WAS LYING THERE ALONE."
"ALL TURNED AND LOOKED AT HIM IN WONDER."
"'DO YOU INTEND TO PUNISH YOUR FATHER'S ASSASSINS?'"
"MARCOS WAS ESSENTIALLY A MAN OF HIS WORD."
"THE DOOR WAS OPENED BY A STOUT MONK."
"'HE IS NOT KILLED,' SAID MARCOS, BREATHLESSLY."
"HE LEFT JUANITA ALONE WITH MARCOS."
CHAPTER I
IN THE CITY OF THE WINDS
The Ebro, as all the world knows--or will pretend to know, being an
ignorant and vain world--runs through the city of Saragossa. It is a
river, moreover, which should be accorded the sympathy of this
generation, for it is at once rapid and shallow.
On one side it is bordered by the wall of the city. The left bank is low
and sandy, liable to flood; a haunt of lizards in the summer, of frogs in
winter-time. The lower bank is bordered by poplar trees, and here and
there plots of land have been recovered from the riverbed for tillage and
the growth of that harsh red wine which seems to harden and thicken the
men of Aragon.
One night, when a half moon hung over the domes of the Cathedral of the
Pillar, a man made his way through the undergrowth by the riverside and
stumbled across the shingle towards the open shed which marks the
landing-place of the only ferry across the Ebro that Saragossa possesses.
The ferry-boat was moored to the landing-stage. It is a high-prowed,
high-sterned vessel, built on Viking lines, from a picture the observant
must conclude, by a landsman carpenter. It swings across the river on a
wire rope, with a running tackle, by the force of the stream and the aid
of a large rudder.
The man looked cautiously into the vine-clad shed. It was empty. He crept
towards the boat and found no one there. Then he examined the chain that
moored it. There was no padlock. In Spain to this day they bar the window
heavily and leave the door open. To the cunning mind is given in this
custom the whole history of a great nation.
He stood upright and looked across the river. He was a tall man with a
clean cut face and a hard mouth. He gave a sharp sigh as he looked at
Saragossa outlined against the sky. His attitude and his sigh seemed to
denote along journey accomplished at last, an object attained perhaps or
within reach, which is almost the same thing, but not quite. For most men
are happier in striving than in possession. And no one has yet decided
whether it is better to be among the lean or the fat.
Don Francisco de Mogente sat down on the bench provided for those that
await the ferry, and, tilting back his hat, looked up at the sky. The
northwest wind was blowing--the Solano--as it only blows in Aragon. The
bridge below the ferry has, by the way, a high wall on the upper side of
it to break this wind, without which no cart could cross the river at
certain times of the year. It came roaring down the Ebro, bending the
tall poplars on the lower bank, driving before it a cloud of dust on the
Saragossa side. It lashed the waters of the river to a gleaming white
beneath the moon. And all the while the clouds stood hard and sharp of
outline in the sky. They hardly seemed to move towards the moon. They
scarcely changed their shape from hour to hour. This was not a wind of
heaven, but a current rushing down from the Pyrenees to replace the hot
air rising from the plains of Aragon.
Nevertheless, the clouds were moving towards the moon, and must soon hide
it. Don Francisco de Mogente observed this, and sat patiently beneath the
trailing vines, noting their slow approach. He was a white-haired man,
and his face was burnt a deep brown. It was an odd face, and the
expression of the eyes was not the usual expression of an old man's eyes.
They had the agricultural calm, which is rarely seen in drawing-rooms.
For those who deal with nature rarely feel calm in a drawing-room. They
want to get out of it, and their eyes assume a hunted look. This seemed
to be a man who had known both drawing-room and nature; who must have
turned quietly and deliberately to nature as the better part. The
wrinkles on his face were not those of the social smile, which so
disfigure the faces of women when the smile is no longer wanted. They
were the wrinkles of sunshine.
"I will wait," he said placidly to himself in English, with, however, a
strong American accent. "I have waited fifteen years--and she doesn't
know I am coming."
He sat looking across the river with quiet eyes. The city lay before him,
with the spire of its unmatched cathedral, the domes of its second
cathedral, and its many towers outlined against the sky just as he had
seen them fifteen years before--just as others had seen them a hundred
years earlier.
The great rounded cloud was nearer to the moon now. Now it touched it.
And quite suddenly the domes disappeared. Don Francisco de Mogente rose
and went towards the boat. He did not trouble to walk gently or to loosen
the chains noiselessly. The wind was roaring so loudly that a listener
twenty yards away could have heard nothing. He cast off and then hastened
to the stern of the boat. The way in which he handled the helm showed
that he knew the tricks of the old ferryman by wind and calm, by high and
low river. He had probably learnt them with the photographic accuracy
only to be attained when the mind is young.
The boat swung out into the river with an odd jerking movement, which the
steersman soon corrected. And a man who had been watching on the bridge
half a mile farther down the river hurried into the town. A second
watcher at an open window in the tall house next to the Posada de los
Reyes on the Paseo del Ebro closed his field-glasses with a thoughtful
smile.
It seemed that Don Francisco de Mogente had purposely avoided crossing
the bridge, where to this day the night watchman, with lantern and spear,
peeps cautiously to and fro--a startlingly mediaeval figure. It seemed
also that the traveler was expected, though he had performed the last
stage of his journey on foot after nightfall.
It is characteristic of this country that Saragossa should be guarded
during the day by the toll-takers at every gate, by sentries, and by the
new police, while at night the streets are given over to the care of a
handful of night watchmen, who call monotonously to each other all
through the hours, and may be avoided by the simplest-minded of
malefactors.
Don Francisco de Mogente brought the ferry-boat gently alongside the
landing-stage beneath the high wall of the Quay, and made his way through
the underground passage and up the dirty steps that lead into one of the
narrow streets of the old town.
The moon had broken through the clouds again and shone down upon the
barred windows. The traveler stood still and looked about him. Nothing
had changed since he had last stood there. Nothing had changed just here
for five hundred years or so; for he could not see the domes of the
Cathedral of the Pillar, comparatively modern, only a century old.
Don Francisco de Mogente had come from the West; had known the newness of
the new generation. And he stood for a moment as if in a dream, breathing
in the tainted air of narrow, undrained streets; listening to the cry of
the watchman slowly dying as the man walked away from him on sandaled,
noiseless feet; gazing up at the barred windows, heavily shadowed. There
was an old world stillness in the air, and suddenly the bells of fifty
churches tolled the hour. It was one o'clock in the morning. The traveler
had traveled backwards, it would seem, into the middle ages. As he heard
the church bells he gave an angry upward jerk of the head, as if the
sound confirmed a thought that was already in his mind. The bells seemed
to be all around him; the towers of the churches seemed to dominate the
sleeping city on every side. There was a distinct smell of incense in the
air of these narrow streets, where the winds of the outer world rarely
found access.
The traveler knew his way, and hurried down a narrow turning to the left,
with the Cathedral of the Pillar between him and the river. He had made a
de tour in order to avoid the bridge and the Paseo del Ebro, a broad
road on the river bank. In these narrow streets he met no one. On the
Paseo there are several old inns, notably the Posada de los Reyes, used
by muleteers and other gentlemen of the road, who arise and start at any
hour of the twenty-four and in summer travel as much by night as by day.
At the corner, where the bridge abuts on the Paseo, there is always a
watchman at night, while by day there is a guard. It is the busiest and
dustiest corner in the city.
Francisco de Mogente crossed a wide street, and again sought a dark
alley. He passed by the corner of the Cathedral of the Pillar, and went
towards the other and infinitely grander Cathedral of the Seo. Beyond
this, by the riverside, is the palace of the archbishop. Farther on is
another palace, standing likewise on the Paseo del Ebro, backing likewise
on to a labyrinth of narrow streets. It is called the Palacio Sarrion,
and belongs to the father and son of that name.
It seemed that Francisco de Mogente was going to the Palacio Sarrion; for
he passed the great door of the archbishop's dwelling, and was already
looking towards the house of the Sarrions, when a slight sound made him
turn on his heels with the rapidity of one whose life had been passed
amid dangers--and more especially those that come from behind.
There were three men coming from behind now, running after him on
sandaled feet, and before he could do so much as raise his arm the moon
broke out from behind a cloud and showed a gleam of steel. Don Francisco
de Mogente was down on the ground in an instant, and the three men fell
upon him like dogs on a rat. One knife went right through him, and grated
with a harsh squeak on the cobble-stones beneath.
A moment later the traveler was lying there alone, half in the shadow,
his dusty feet showing whitely in the moonlight. The three shadows had
vanished as softly as they came.
Almost instantly from, strangely enough, the direction in which they had
gone the burly form of a preaching friar came out into the light. He was
walking hurriedly, and would seem to be returning from some mission of
mercy, or some pious bedside to one of the many houses of religion
located within a stone's throw of the Cathedral of the Seo in one of the
narrow streets of this quarter of the city. The holy man almost fell over
the prostrate form of Don Francisco de Mogente.
"Ah! ah!" he exclaimed in an even and quiet voice. "A calamity."
"No," answered the wounded man with a cynicism which even the near sight
of death seemed powerless to effect. "A crime."
"You are badly hurt, my son."
"Yes; you had better not try to lift me, though you are a strong man."
"I will go for help," said the monk.
"Lay help," suggested the wounded man curtly. But the friar was already
out of earshot.
In an astonishingly short space of time the friar returned, accompanied
by two men, who had the air of indoor servants and the quiet movements of
street-bred, roof-ridden humanity.
Mindful of his cloth, the friar stood aside, unostentatiously and firmly
refusing to take the lead even in a mission of mercy. He stood with
humbly-folded hands and a meek face while the two men lifted Don
Francisco de Mogente on to a long narrow blanket, the cloak of Navarre
and Aragon, which one of them had brought with him.
They bore him slowly away, and the friar lingered behind. The moon shone
down brightly into the narrow street and showed a great patch of blood
amid the cobblestones. In Saragossa, as in many Spanish cities, certain
old men are employed by the municipal authorities to sweep the dust of
the streets into little heaps. These heaps remain at the side of the
streets until the dogs and the children and the four winds disperse the
dust again. It is a survival of the middle ages, interesting enough in
its bearing upon the evolution of the modern municipal authority and the
transmission of intellectual gifts.
The friar looked round him, and | 1,762.07519 |
2023-11-16 18:46:26.0609030 | 127 | 19 | FUSILIERS IN THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR***
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TEXAS.
A BRIEF ACCOUNT
OF THE
ORIGIN, PROGRESS AND PRESENT STATE
OF THE
COLONIAL SETTLEMENTS OF TEXAS;
TOGETHER WITH AN EXPOSITION OF THE CAUSES WHICH
HAVE INDUCED THE EXISTING
WAR WITH MEXICO.
Extracted from a work entitled "A Geographical, Statistical and
Historical account of Texas," now nearly ready for the press.
Some of these numbers have appeared in the New Orleans Bee
and Bulletin.
1836.
PREFACE.
It will be seen that the title of this little pamphlet implies more than
it contains. As war is now the order of the day, only a small portion of
the political part of the work on "Texas" is here presented. It is hoped
and believed that enough is unfolded to convince the most incredulous that
the colonists of Texas have been _forced_ into this contest with the
mother country, by persecutions and oppressions, as unremitting as they
have been unconstitutional. That it is not a war waged by them for cupidity
or conquest, but for the establishment of the blessings of liberty and good
government, without which life itself is a curse and man degraded to the
level of the brute. If the time-hallowed principle of the Declaration of
Independence, namely, "that governments are instituted for the protection
and happiness of mankind, and that whenever they become destructive of
these ends it is the right, nay it is the duty of the people to alter or
abolish them." If this sacred principle is recognised and acted upon, all
must admit that the colonists of Texas have a clear right to burst their
_fetters_, and have also a just claim for recognition as an independent
nation, upon every government not wholly inimical to the march of light and
liberty, and to the establishment of the unalienable rights of man.
CURTIUS.
TO AN IMPARTIAL WORLD.
No. I.
The unconstitutional oppression long and unremittingly practised upon the
colonists of Texas, having at length become insupportable, and having
impelled them to take up arms in defence of their rights and liberties, it
is due to the world that their motives, conduct and causes of complaint
should be fully made known. In order to do this it will be necessary to
explain the origin, progress and present state of the colonial settlements.
Without parade or useless preliminaries, I shall proceed to the subject,
as substance and not sound--matter and not manner are the objects of the
present discussion. It is known at least to the reading and inquiring
world, that on the dissolution of the connection between Mexico and Spain
in 1822, Don Augustin Iturbide, by corruption and violence, established
a short-lived, imperial government over Mexico, with himself at the head
under the title of Augustin I. On arriving at supreme power, Iturbide or
Augustin I. found that vast portion of the Mexican government, east of the
Rio Grande, known by the name of Texas, to be occupied by various tribes of
Indians, who committed incessant depredations on the Mexican citizens West
of the Rio Grande, and prevented the population of Texas. He ascertained
that the savages could not be subdued by the arms of Mexico, nor could
their friendship be purchased. He ascertained that the Mexicans, owing to
their natural dread of Indians, could not be induced to venture into the
wilderness of Texas. In addition to the dread of Indians, Texas held out no
inducements for Mexican emigrants. They were accustomed to a lazy pastoral
or mining life, in a healthy country. Texas was emphatically a land of
agriculture--the land of cotton and of sugar cane, with the culture of
which staples they were wholly unacquainted; and moreover, it abounded in
the usual concomitants of such southern regions--fevers, mosquitoes &c.,
which the Mexicans hated with a more than natural or reasonable hatred.
Iturbide finding from those causes that Texas could not be populated with
his own subjects, and that so long as it remained in the occupancy of
the Indians, the inhabited parts of his dominions continually suffered
from their ravages and murders, undertook to expel the savages by the
introduction of foreigners. Accordingly the national institute or council,
on the 3d day of January, 1823, by his recommendation and sanction, adopted
a law of colonization, in which they invited the immigration of foreigners
to Texas on the following terms:--
1st. They promise to protect their liberty, property and civil rights.
2d. They offer to each colonist one league of land, (4,444 acres) for
coming to Texas.
3d. They guarantee to each colonist the privilege of leaving the empire
at any time, with all his property, and also the privilege of selling the
land which he may have acquired from the Mexican government, (see the
colonization law of 1823, more especially articles 1st, 8th and 20th.)
These were the inducements and invitations held out to foreigners under the
imperial government of Iturbide or Augustin I. In a short time, however,
the nation deposed Iturbide, and deposited the supreme executive power in
a body of three individuals. This supreme executive power on the 10th of
August, 1824, adopted a national colonization law, in which they recognized
and confirmed the imperial colonization law with all its guarantees of
person and property. It also conceded to the different States the privilege
of colonizing the vacant lands within their respective limits. (See
national colonization law, articles 1st and 4th.) In accordance with this
law, the States of Coahuila and Texas on the 24th March, 1825, adopted
a colonization law for the purpose, as expressed in the preamble, of
protecting the frontiers, expelling the savages, augmenting the population
of its vacant territory, multiplying the raising of stock, promoting the
cultivation of its fertile lands, and of the arts and of commerce. In this
state-colonization law--the promises to protect the persons and property
of the colonists, which had been made in the two preceding national
colonization laws, were renewed and confirmed. We have now before us the
invitations and guarantees under which the colonists immigrated to Texas.
Let us examine into the manner in which these conditions have been complied
with, and these flattering promises fulfilled. The donation of 4,444 acres
sounds largely at a distance. Considering, however, all the circumstances,
the difficulties of taking possession, &c. it will not be deemed an
entire gratuity or magnificent bounty. If these lands had been previously
pioneered by the enterprise of the Mexican government, and freed from the
insecurities which beset a wilderness, trod only by savages--if they had
have been situated in the heart of an inhabited region, and accessible
to the comforts and necessaries of life--if the government had have been
deriving any actual revenue, and if it could have realised a capital
from the sale of them--then we admit that the donation would have been
unexampled in the history of individual or national liberality. But how
lamentably different from all thus was the real state of the case.
The lands granted were in the occupancy of savages and situated in a
wilderness, of which the government had never taken possession, and of
which it could not with its own citizens ever have taken possession. They
were not sufficiently explored to obtain that knowledge of their character
and situation necessary to a sale of them. They were shut out from all
commercial intercourse with the rest of the world, and inaccessible to
the commonest comforts of life; nor were they brought into possession and
cultivation by the colonists without much toil and privation, and patience
and enterprise, and suffering and blood, and loss of lives from Indian
hostilities, and other causes. Under the smiles of a benignant heaven,
however, the untiring perseverance of the colonists triumphed over all
natural obstacles, expelled the savages by whom the country was infested,
reduced the forest into cultivation, and made the desert smile. From this
it must appear that the lands of Texas, although nominally given, were
in fact really and clearly bought. It may here be premised that a gift
of lands by a nation to foreigners on condition of their immigrating and
becoming citizens, is immensely different from a gift by one individual to
another. In the case of individuals, the donor loses all further claim or
ownership over the thing bestowed. But in our case, the government only
gave wild lands, that they might be redeemed from a state of nature; that
the obstacles to a first settlement might be overcome; that they might be
rid of those savages who continually depredated upon the inhabited parts
of the nation, and that they might be placed in a situation to augment
the physical strength and power and revenue of the republic. Is it not
evident that Mexico now holds over the colonized lands of Texas, the
same jurisdiction and right of property which all nations hold over the
inhabited parts of their territory? But to do away more effectually the
idea that the colonists of Texas are under great obligations to the Mexican
government for their donations of land, let us examine at what price the
government estimated the lands given. Twelve or thirteen years ago, they
gave to a colonist one league of laud for coming, he paying the government
$30, and this year (1835) they have sold hundreds of leagues of land for
$50 each. So that it appears that the government really gave us what in
their estimation was worth $20. A true statement of facts then is all that
is necessary to pay at once that immense debt of endless gratitude which,
in the estimation of the ignorant and interested is due from the colonists
to the government. I pass over the toil and suffering and danger which
attended the redemption and cultivation of their lands by the colonists,
and turn to their civil condition and to the conduct and history of the
government. It is a maxim no less venerable for its antiquity than its
truth--a maxim admitted and illustrated by all writers on political
economy--and one that has been corroborated by experience in every corner
of the earth, that miserable is the servitude and horrible the condition
of that people whose laws are either uncertain or unknown. I ask, with
a defiance of contradiction, if ours is not and has not always been, in
Texas, the unhappy condition and miserable bondage spoken of in this
maxim? Who of us knows or can by possibility arrive at a knowledge of the
laws that govern our property and lives? Who of us is able to read and
understand and be entirely confident of the validity of his title to the
land he lives on, and which he has redeemed from a state of nature by the
most indefatigable industry and perseverance? Who knows whether he has paid
on his land all that government exacts, or whether he has not paid ten
times as much? Look at the mere mockery of all law and justice which has
always prevailed in place of an able and learned judiciary. Alcaldes, most
of them unlearned in any system of jurisprudence, and unconversant with
legal proceedings of any description, have been elected to administer a
code, scattered through hundreds of volumes and written in languages of
which they did not understand one word.
Who among us is able to confer with his rulers; to represent his wants
and grievances; to ask advice, or recommend salutary changes? Have we had
more than one or two organs of communication with the government, and must
not they have been omniscient to have always understood the wishes of the
people, and incorruptible to have always correctly represented them? Who
of us feels or ever has felt any reliance or can place any confidence in
governmental matters, or can predict with any sort of certainty what in
this respect a day may bring forth? There are thousands of other evils
growing out of our present situation, too hourly, universally and bitterly
felt to require to be mentioned. Who will say that these things do not
exist? Who will say that we have not suffered the harassing uncertainty and
miserable bondage here represented?
When the people of the United States commenced their war for independence
against Great Britain, the friends of Britain charged them with
ingratitude. They said that Britain had founded the colonies at great
expense--had increased a load of debt by wars on their account--had
protected their commerce, &c. This cannot be said of Mexico. Not one dollar
has she spent for Texas--not one Mexican soldier has ever fought by our
side in expelling the savages. She has given us no protection whatever;
and as allegiance and protection are reciprocal, we have a right on this
principle to cast off her yoke. However, in my next I pledge myself to
demonstrate that the Mexicans are wholly incapable of self-government,
and that on that principle we are bound by the first law of
nature--self-preservation--to dissolve all connexion, and take care of
ourselves.
* * * * *
No. II.
I now proceed to demonstrate that the Mexicans are wholly incapable of
self-government, and that our liberties, our fortunes and our lives are
insecure so long as we are connected with them. At the onset I cannot but
advert to the spirit of prophecy and truth with which that unequalled
expounder and defender of the rights of man, Mr. Jefferson, spoke more than
18 years ago in regard to this very matter. In a letter to the Marquis de
Lafayette, dated Monticello, 14th May, 1817, he says, "I wish I could
give you better hopes of our Mexican brethren. The achievement of their
independence of old Spain is no longer a question. But it is a very serious
one what will then become of them. Ignorance and bigotry, like other
insanities, are incapable of self-government. They will fall under military
despotism, and become the murderous tools of their respective Bonapartes.
No one I hope can doubt my wish to see them and all mankind exercising
self-government. But the question is not what we wish--but what is
practicable. As their sincere friend, then, I do believe the best thing
for them would be to come to an accord with Spain, under the guarantee of
France, Russia, Holland, and the United States, allowing to Spain a nominal
supremacy, with authority only to keep the peace among them, leaving them
otherwise all the powers of self-government, until their experience, their
education, and their emancipation from their Priests should prepare them
for complete independence." Jefferson's works, vol. 4, page 303. Mr.
Jefferson well knew that from the discovery of America to the date of his
letter, the Mexicans had unfortunately been the persecuted, pillaged, and
priest-ridden slaves of the kings of Spain--a line of kings, with but
few exceptions, more inimical to the rights of man, more opposed to the
advancement of truth, and light, and liberty, more practised in tyranny,
more hardened in crime, more infatuated with superstition, and more
benighted with ignorance, than any other monsters that ever disgraced
a throne in christendom, since the revival of letters. Yes, humanity
shudders, and freedom burns with indignation at a recital of the
barbarities and oppressions practised upon the ill-fated Mexicans from the
bloody days of Cortes up to the termination of their connexion with Spain.
The produce of their cultivated fields was rifled--the natural products of
their forests pillaged--the bowels of their earth ransacked, and their
suffering families impoverished to glut the grandeur and enrich the coffers
of their trans-Atlantic oppressors. To make their miserable servitude less
perceptible, they were denied the benefits of the commonest education,
and were kept the blind devotees of the darkest and most demoralizing
superstition that ever clouded the intellects, or degraded the morals
of mankind. From this it is evident, that up to the period of their
independence, having been so long destitute of education, so long
unaccustomed to think or legislate for themselves, and so long under the
complete dominion of their liberty-hating Priests, they must have been
totally unacquainted with the plainest principles of self-government. Let
us examine what their subsequent opportunities of improvement have been.
At the close of the revolution, Iturbide, by fraud and force, caused
himself to be proclaimed Emperor, who after much commotion, was dethroned,
banished and shot. After this Victoria was elected President, during all
of whose administration the country was distracted with civil wars and
conspiracies, as is evidenced by the rebellion and banishment of Montano,
Bravo, and many others. Victoria's term having expired, Pedraza was
constitutionally elected, but was dispossessed by violence, and Guerero
put in his stead. Guerero was scarcely seated before Bustamente with open
war deposed him, put him to death and placed himself at the head of the
government. Bustamente was hardly in the chair before Santa Anna, warring,
as he pretended, for the constitution and for making it still more liberal,
dispossessed him by deluging the country in a civil war, the horrors of
which have not at this moment ended. Since his accession we have been
woful witnesses that nothing but turmoil, anarchy and revolution have
overshadowed the land, and that at last he has at one fell stroke, with
an armed soldiery, turned congress out of doors, dissolved that body
and proclaimed that the constitution is no more. Here, then, we have a
lamentable verification of the fears and predictions of that great apostle
of human liberty, Mr. Jefferson. His prophecy in relation to the result of
their governmental experiment, implies in him an almost superhuman forecast
and knowledge of the elements essential to self-government. He knew that
they were too ignorant and too much under the dominion of their priests at
the period of their declaration, and he but too truly foresaw that owing to
the unhallowed ambition of their military aspirants, the country would be
too continually distracted with revolutions to admit of their advancement
in education or any useful knowledge whatever. Time has developed it. There
has been no attention on the part of government to schools or other useful
institutions. The present generation are as ignorant and bigoted as the
past one, and so will continue each succeeding one to the end of time,
unless some philanthropic and enlightened citizen shall arrive at power
with a purity of patriotism and reach of intellect unexampled among his
countrymen, and with energies of character sufficiently commanding to
emancipate the nation from the thraldom of her priests--to curb or kill her
countless military aspirants, thereby preventing incessant revolutions, and
thereby enabling a new generation to experience the benefits of education
and to qualify themselves in other respects for complete self-government.
I have now gone through with the administration, or rather
mal-administration, of the General Government. It is equally demonstrable
that so far as Texas is concerned, there have been equal confusion,
insecurity and injustice in the administration of the State governments.
Texas, as is known, forms an integral part of the State known by the name
of Coahuila and Texas. During the past year there were three persons
claiming and fighting for the office of Governor of this State. There was
no session of the legislature at the regular period, on account of this
civil war, and fifteen officers of the federal troops elected a governor
of their own over the head of the one elected by the people. At an
extraordinary time the legislature was convoked, and fraudulently sold for
a thousandth part of their value, millions of acres of our public domain.
This legislature was finally dispersed by the threats of the General
Government, and our Governor and one of the members were, on their retreat,
arrested and imprisoned by the troops of the permanent army--leaving us
involved in chaotic anarchy. Do not these facts conclusively demonstrate an
incapability of self-government on the part of the Mexicans? Do they not
cry aloud for an immediate dissolution of all connexion with them as the
only rock of our salvation? Yes, the vital importance of a declaration of
Independence is as clearly indicated by them as if it were "written in
sunbeams on the face of heaven."
* * * * *
No. III.
ANALYSIS OF THE MEXICAN FEDERAL CONSTITUTION OF 1824.
It has been wisely remarked by that great illustrator of the machinery
of governments, (Montesquieu) that there can be no liberty where the
legislative, executive, and judicial powers, or any two of them, are united
in the same person or body of persons. See Spirit of Laws, in reference to
the English Constitution. If any corroboration of this high authority is
needed, I will refer to Mr. Jefferson, and the writers of that invaluable
text book, the Federalist. Mr. Jefferson, in his Notes on Virginia, page
195, says the concentration of legislative, executive and judicial powers
in the same hands, is precisely the definition of despotism. And in the
Federalist, page 261, it is said, "the accumulation of these powers in
the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and whether hereditary,
self-appointed, or elective, is the very definition of tyranny." In the
same great work it is clearly demonstrated, that if each department is
not so fortified in its powers as to prevent infringement by the others,
the constitution which creates them all will be worth no more than the
parchment upon which it is written. So important was it deemed by all the
states of the Union to keep these departments distinct, and in different
hands, that it has been specially provided for in all their constitutions.
See the constitutions of the different States. And yet in the face of all
this wisdom and experience, and contrary to every thing that is republican
in its nature, the framers of the Mexican constitution have reserved to
Congress the sole power of construing the constitutionality of its acts.
This, it will be readily seen, is an entire nullification of the judiciary
in all constitutional matters, and leaves the rights of the people and the
constitution itself without any other security than what is to be found
in the virtue, patriotism and intelligence of Congress. What slender
reliances, where the liberties and happiness of a nation are concerned! If
in the United States Congress should transcend its powers in the passage
of a law, the courts would declare it null and void, and bring back
Congress to a constitutional discharge of its duties. But if the same
thing were attempted in Mexico, Congress would re-enact the law, declare
it constitutional, and imprison the judge for his presumption. It appears
then, that the Mexican constitution of 1824 contains within itself the
seeds of its own destruction,--for the accumulation of legislative and
judicial powers in Congress, and the enabling of that body to violate the
constitution at will, renders it of no more avail than "a sounding brass
or tinkling cymbal." It will be no alleviation, says Mr. Jefferson, in his
work above quoted, page 195, that in the case of Congress unlimited powers
are vested in a plurality of hands. One hundred or two hundred despots are
surely as oppressive as one. Let those who doubt it turn their eyes on the
republic of Venice. In the next place I will show, that independent of this
objection, the Mexican constitution contains principles and provisions 500
years behind the liberalized views of the present age, and at war with
every thing that is akin to civil or religious liberty. In that instrument
the powers of government, instead of being divided as they are in the
United States, and other civilized countries, into legislative, executive
and judicial, are divided into military, ecclesiastical and civil,
and these two first are fortified with exclusive privileges, and made
predominant. It is specially declared that the Roman Catholic religion
is, and forever shall be, the established religion of the land. No other
is tolerated, and no one can be a citizen without professing it. Can
any people be capable of self-government--can they know any thing about
republicanism, who will, in this enlightened age endeavor to erect the
military over the civil--to bind the conscience in chains, and to enforce
an absolute subscription to the dogmas of any religious sect--but more
especially of that sect, which has waged an unceasing warfare against
liberty, whenever the ignorance and superstition of mankind have given it
a foothold?
Can republicans live under a constitution containing such unhallowed
principles? All will say they cannot. And if the Texan colonists are
willing to do so a moment longer than they are able to shake off the yoke,
they are unworthy the sympathies or assistance of any free people--they are
unworthy descendants of those canonized heroes of the American revolution,
who fought, and bled, and conquered for religious as well as civil liberty,
and who established the sacred principle, that "all men have a right to
worship Almighty God according to the dictates of their consciences." Yet
bad as this constitution is, it has been swept away by, if possible, a
worse form of government, the central. This system, now attempted to be
rivetted upon the people of Texas, has preserved most of the bad features
of the old constitution, viz: the preponderance of the military and clergy,
and has destroyed all of the good features, to wit: the representation of
the people through the medium of Congress, and the division of the republic
into States. The whole of the States are now consolidated into one, and
governed by a dictator and council of about a dozen, who are the creatures
of his will, and the flatterers of his lawless despotism. All of Mexico,
but Texas, has submitted to this, and she is waging a war against it with
all the energies of an infant and much oppressed people. If it be asked,
why have the people of Texas submitted so long to such a constitution,
I answer, that for the first few years their numbers or wealth did
not attract the notice or cupidity of government. 2dly, the incessant
revolutions of Mexico kept their attention from Texas for many years more.
3dly, they submitted from physical inability to resist. And 4thly, they
were determined to prove themselves a law and oath abiding people, and in
case of rupture with Mexico, to show to the world that they were not the
aggressors. This rupture has been brought about, and it is folly to think
of ever healing the breach. The constitution has been destroyed, and it is
idle to think of restoring it. If restored, I have shown that no republican
| 1,762.174288 |
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LITTLE NOBODY
BY
MRS. ALEX. MCVEIGH MILLER
HART SERIES No. 53
COPYRIGHT 1886 BY GEORGE MUNRO.
PUBLISHED BY
THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY
CLEVELAND, O., U. S. A.
LITTLE NOBODY.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHAPTER XL.
CHAPTER XLI.
CHAPTER XLII.
CHAPTER XLIII.
CHAPTER XLIV.
CHAPTER XLV.
CHAPTER XLVI.
CHAPTER XLVII.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
CHAPTER I.
He was a Northern journalist, and it was in the interest of his paper
that he found himself, one bright March morning, in New Orleans, almost
dazed by the rapidity with which he had been whirled from the ice and
snow of the frozen North to the sunshine and flowers of the sunny South.
He was charmed with the quaint and unique Crescent City. It was a
totally different world from that in which he had been reared--a summer
land, warm, indolent, luxurious, where one plucked the golden oranges
from the dark-green boughs, laden at once with flowers and fruit, and
where the senses were taken captive by the sensuous perfume of rare
flowers that, in his Northern land, grew only within the confines of
the close conservatory. Then, too, the dark, handsome faces of the
people, and their mixture of foreign tongues, had their own peculiar
charm. Nothing amused him so much as a stroll through the antique
French Market, with its lavish abundance of tropic vegetables, fruits,
and flowers, vended by hucksters of different nationalities in the
Babel of languages that charmed his ear with the languorous softness of
the Southern accent.
He had a letter of introduction to a member of the Jockey Club, and
this famous organization at once adopted him, and, as he phrased it,
"put him through." The theaters, the carnival, the races, all whirled
past in a blaze of splendor never to be forgotten; for it was at the
famous Metairie Race-course that he first met Mme. Lorraine.
But you must not think, reader, because I forgot to tell you his name
at first, that he is the Little Nobody of my story. He was not little
at all, but tall and exceedingly well-favored, and signed his name
Eliot Van Zandt.
Mme. Lorraine was a retired actress--ballet-dancer, some said. She
was a French woman, airy and charming, like the majority of her race.
The Jockey Club petted her, | 1,762.373241 |
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THE PLAYWORK BOOK
THE
PLAYWORK BOOK
BY
ANN MACBETH
WITH 114 DIAGRAMS
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
ROBERT M. MCBRIDE & COMPANY
1918
_Printed in the United States of America_
Published October, 1918
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
A WOOLEN BALL 25
ANOTHER WOOLEN BALL 27
A SPRIG OF FLOWERS 30
A SKIPPING ROPE 33
A SUCKER 37
<DW57>s 38
THE MEAL SACK 40
AN EMERY CUSHION 42
RAT-TAIL KNITTING 44
A PEEP-SHOW P | 1,762.474482 |
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THE KNICKERBOCKER.
VOL. X. DECEMBER, 1837. NO. 6.
AMERICAN ANTIQUITIES.
NUMBER FOUR.
'KINGDOMS are shrunk to provinces, and chains
Clank over sceptred cities; nations melt
From power's high pinnacle, when they have felt
The sunshine for a while, and downward go.'
IN view of the reasons heretofore suggested, why it is improbable
that either the Egyptians, the Carthaginians, or the Romans, were the
first inhabitants of this continent, and why, from the present state
of our knowledge, no other distinct nation of people is entitled to
the exclusive reputation of having been the primitive discoverers
of America, the reader is very naturally led to inquire for the
evidences assigned by the advocates of particular theories for the
sources of their origin. These evidences, although important to the
antiquarian, cannot, from the brevity and popular mode proposed
by us in treating this subject, be critically stated. We have,
nevertheless, offered some reasons and inferences of our own, why
those evidences cannot be conclusive; and we would refer others to
our own or other means of information, should they feel disposed to
make farther investigations. However plausible the story of Votan
may have appeared, as testimony in point, the reader shall judge,
from a few facts which will be here noticed, whether even that has
much probability to support it. No one at least can deny the greater
safety of doubting, where there is no better proof, should he not,
with others, arrive at the ultimate conclusion, that the best
evidence of all may be in favor of the opinion that these people
originated where their relics are now found.
It has been said that the occasional resemblance observed among the
ruins of Tulteca to those of the Egyptians, Romans, etc, affords
no just grounds for attributing their origin to those nations, any
more than to others whose remaining arts they equally resemble.
Almost every ancient people might, in fact, from similar points of
resemblance, claim the same distinction. Beside the particulars
noticed in previous numbers, it might be mentioned, _en passant_,
that had the Tultecans been Egyptian, they would most certainly have
retained the language of Egypt, the signs, the worship, etc.; but
this was not the fact. Had they been Romans, they would likewise have
continued the language, the customs, and the religion of Romans;
yet this was not the case; and so it would have been, had they been
derived from any other nation. Above all, perhaps, would they have
borne a personal resemblance to their progenitors, a circumstance
far from truth. Religion, without doubt, is the last thing in which a
people becomes alienated; yet we see no coeincidence in this respect
between these people and their reputed originals. How then shall
we account for their origin, but by supposing them, _sui generis_,
Tultecans? Finally, it will be admitted, that unless the story of
Votan presents some clue by which to solve the problem--and we do not
see that it has even the claim of probability--we are not permitted,
by the facts in evidence, to attribute the first American population
to any other people of the earth.
The illustrious Fegjro, quoted as the best authority by the
very author of Votan's story, and himself as much interested in
propagating a theory favorable to popular Catholic opinions as any
one of his clerical brethren, says upon this subject: 'After long
study and attentive examination of so many and such various opinions,
I find no one having the necessary appearance of truth, to satisfy
a prudent judgment, and many that do not possess even the merit
of probability.' Again, Cabrera says: 'To the present period, no
_hypothesis_ has been advanced, that is sufficiently probable to
satisfy a mind sincerely and cautiously desirous of arriving at the
truth.' And yet this is the man who holds forth the story of Votan
as a true 'hypothesis.' It is plain, in all this writer says, by way
of comment, that he himself doubts the truth of the whole matter,
although he has pompously styled his treatise 'The Solution of the
Grand Historical Problem of the Population of America!' The bishop,
we will do him the justice to say, manifests much candor in speaking
of the conduct of his brotherhood toward the relics of the people
whose religion they had resolved to destroy. 'The injudicious and
total destruction of the annals and records of the American nations,'
says he, 'has not only proved a most serious loss to history, but
very prejudicial to _that religion_ whose progress it was supposed
would thereby have been accelerated.' He asserts what is very true,
in this; and also in his conclusion, that 'both in the means and the
object, this practice is too frequently the result of prejudice or
of ignorance.' Antonio Constantini, also cited as primary authority,
declares, that 'whatsoever may be advanced upon this subject does not
pass beyond the limit of mere opinion, as we have neither histories,
manuscripts, nor traditions of the Americans!' And with the design
farther to prevent all belief by posterity that their conquered
subjects, whose admirable relics and records they had destroyed,
possessed any knowledge of the arts, or the means of governing
themselves, he says, 'when they were discovered, they were ignorant
and uncultivated!' etc. Clavigero justly concludes, likewise, that
'the history of the primitive population of Anahuac, (Central
America,) | 1,762.474625 |
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THE
LITTLE GIRL
WHO WAS
TAUGHT BY EXPERIENCE.
[Illustration]
BOSTON.
BOWLES AND DEARBORN, 72 WASHINGTON STREET.
Isaac. R. Butts and Co. Printers.
1827.
District of Massachusetts, _to wit_:
_District Clerk's Office._
Be it remembered, that on the nineteenth day of June, A.D. 1827, in the
fifty-first year of the Independence of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,
_Bowles and Dearborn_ 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 LITTLE GIRL, WHO WAS TAUGHT BY
EXPERIENCE."
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_.
THE
LITTLE GIRL
WHO WAS
TAUGHT BY EXPERIENCE.
Little Lucy's mother had died when she was a very small child;--this was
a great misfortune to Lucy, for her mother loved her very tenderly, and
she would have taken the trouble to tell her what she did wrong, and
when she _felt_ wrong, and would have taught her to correct all her
faults; she would have taught her that happiness could not dwell in her
heart, while she permitted wicked passions to rise up and grow strong
there, any more than the beautiful flowers which she planted in her
little garden-bed, could thrive and bloom when she allowed all the rank
weeds which sprang up with them, to become strong and remain there to
choke them: wicked passions like troublesome weeds, grow very fast, and
they soon root out all the mild, gentle virtues which are just budding
into beauty, if we do not take great pains to check them, and pluck them
out of our hearts.
Lucy's mother would have taught her all this, for she saw these evils
were already springing up to destroy the lovely blossom of virtue in her
young bosom; but she died, and Lucy was left to the care of a most
indulgent father; he did not like to correct his little girl, for he
only saw her when his busy day was over, and then he wished to gratify
all her desires, to fondle over her and play with her and bless her
while he thought of her dear mother whom he had lost; he did not see her
faults the little time he was with her, the servants did not like to
tell him of them, and poor Lucy was growing up a _vain_, selfish,
self-willed, prying little girl, with an obstinate temper which could
bear no contradiction.
Lucy had a _pretty face_ and her father and the servants talked to her
so much about it, that at last she really thought it was something good
in her to be pretty, that she was in some way better because she was
handsomer than other little girls; no kind friend ever said to Lucy,
"that as she had not made her own face, she could not be more good for
its being a pretty one; and that as she could not by any care keep it a
moment, if it should please her heavenly Father to take it away, that it
was very silly in her to be vain of it, and value it so much; but that
she could do a great deal, to make herself good, and amiable, and
obliging, and affectionate; and therefore she would be more dear to her
friends and more happy in herself every time she even tried to correct a
wrong feeling."
It was a _sad_ thing that Lucy had no one to teach her all these things,
for she might have learnt them easily then, and she was growing more
selfish, and vain, and obstinate, and disobedient as she grew older, she
thought a great deal about her dress, fine things to wear, and nice food
to eat, and she liked to pry into things which did not concern her to
know.
Lucy had an aunt living in Boston, who was a sensible and a very
kind-hearted woman. She heard that Lucy would become a disagreeable if
not a wicked child, if some friend did not have compassion and try to
save her from her growing faults. She kindly sent to Lucy's Father who
lived in New York, and persuaded him to let his daughter come and pass
one year with her; she had a little girl of her own about the same age
as Lucy, who had been watched, and guarded, and taught by this kind
mother, and she was now a lovely child, so good--obedient--and amiable,
that every one who knew her, saw that she would grow up a blessing to
her family and friends; her mother had early taught her, and made her
feel from experience, that she was always happier when she governed her
temper, corrected a fault, and thought more about making others happy
than she did of pleasing herself; she told her that her heavenly Father
always looked down with peculiar love upon her, when she resisted a
wicked feeling or a selfish action, and sent his _best_ and sweetest
reward of peace and joy into her heart, a reward he bestows only on
goodness, but which is more delightful than any pleasure which the
wicked can purchase. Now the little Emily had already learned to feel
this delightful peace, and she would give up any thing to obtain it.
It was on her birthday morning, about a month after Lucy's arrival at
her aunt's, that she received a very kind letter from her father
enclosing two beautiful crown pieces which he said "he thought would be
an acceptable present for herself and cousin, and he hoped this would
make his little darlings happy." Lucy _did_ feel happy for one moment,
and she looked at the pretty shining pieces again and again, then she
began to feel dissatisfied, and went slowly and with a sullen
countenance, into the parlour where Emily was finishing her work.
"My father has sent me these two crown pieces," said she, "but he says I
must give one of them to you, Emily, I'm sure I don't know what for;"
and Lucy looked unhappy, and selfish, and sour, because she could not
keep both the pieces which her father had sent, and no one who had seen
Lucy then would have thought she could ever have a pretty face; the
naughty temper in her heart, looked out at her eyes, her scowling brows,
and her pouting lips, and made her quite disagreeable, as she threw down
the piece of silver upon the table with a loud noise.
"Oh how good your dear father is," said Emily, "what a beautiful bright
piece it is--but do not give it to me, dear Lucy, if you don't wish to,"
continued she, as she looked up at Lucy's unhappy face, "I should like
to have it to be sure | 1,762.574662 |
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LETTERS
AND
LITERARY MEMORIALS
OF
SAMUEL J. TILDEN
EDITED BY
JOHN BIGELOW, LL.D.
VOL. 1
[Illustration]
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1908
Copyright, 1908, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
Published February, 1908.
_Shortly before the death of the late Samuel J. Tilden, and in
compliance with his wishes, a selection was made by our senior
colleague from such of Mr. Tilden's public writings and speeches as
were then conveniently accessible and seemed then responsive to a
popular demand. This selection was edited and published in 1885._
_The forty-second section of the will of Mr. Tilden, who died in the
following year, provided as follows:_
_"I also authorize my said Executors and Trustees to collect and
publish in such form as they may deem proper my speeches and public
documents, and such other writings and papers as they may think
expedient to include with the same, which shall be done under their
direction. The expenses thereof shall be paid out of my estate. My
Trustees and Executors are authorized and empowered to burn and destroy
any of my letters, papers or other documents, whether printed or in
manuscript, which in their judgment will answer no useful purpose to
preserve."_
_In discharge of the duty imposed on us by this clause of the
testator's will, we have selected such portions of a vast
correspondence with, or relating to, the testator as give promise of
answering a useful purpose; and at our solicitation Mr. Bigelow has
undertaken to edit and publish them in a form that shall harmonize
with, and be complementary to, the volume of "Speeches and Writings of
Mr. Tilden," already in print._
JOHN BIGELOW, } Executors
GEORGE W. SMITH, } and
L. V. F. RANDOLPH. } Trustees.
PREFACE OF THE EDITOR
At an early period of his life Samuel J. Tilden seems to have had a
sense of its importance not ordinarily felt by youth of his age. This
may be accounted for in part by the circumstance that while barely out
of his teens, both by pen and speech, he had secured the respectful
attention of many of the leading statesmen of his generation. At
school he preserved all his composition exercises, and from that time
to the close of his life it may well be doubted if he ever wrote a
note or document of any kind of which he did not preserve the draft
or a copy. As the events with which he had to deal came to assume, as
they naturally did, increasing importance with his years, one or more
corrected drafts were made of important papers, most, if not all, of
which were carefully preserved.
As what may fitly enough be termed Mr. Tilden's public life covered
more than half a century, during most of which time he was one of the
recognized leaders of one of the great parties of the country, the
public will learn without surprise that the accumulations of social,
political, and documentary correspondence which fell into the hands of
his executors, to be measured by the ton, embraced among its topics
almost every important political question by which this nation has
been agitated since the accession of General Andrew Jackson to the
Presidency in 1829.
A collection of _Tilden's Public Writings and Speeches_ was published
in 1885, only a year before his death, but very little of his private
correspondence appeared in that publication.
The duty imposed upon his executors of looking through such a vast
collection of papers and selecting such as would be profitable for
publication has been a long and a very tedious one. They indulge the
hope, however, that the volumes now submitted will be found to shed
upon the history of our country during the latter half of the last
century much light unlikely to be reflected with equal lustre from
any other quarter. It will also, they believe, help to transmit to
posterity a juster sense than as yet generally prevails of the majestic
proportions of one of the most gifted statesmen our country has
produced.
Tilden may be said to have fleshed his maiden sword in politics as a
champion of President Jackson in his war against the recharter of a
United States bank of discount and deposit. He next became somewhat
more personally conspicuous as a fervent champion of Mr. Van Buren's
substitute for the national bank, now known as the Assistant Treasury.
In 1848 he led the revolt of the Democratic party in New York State
against the creation of five slave States, with their ten slave-holding
Senators, out of the Territory of Texas. Among the immediate results of
this revolt were the defeat of General Cass, the Democratic candidate
for President, and the development of a Free-soil party, which later
took the name of the Republican, nominated and elected Abraham Lincoln
to the Presidency--synchronously with which, and for the first time in
the nation's history, the decennial census of 1860 disclosed the fact
that the political supremacy of the nation had been transferred to the
non-slave-holding States.
Though averse to resisting the secession of the slave States by
flagrant war, Tilden did his best and much during the war to prevent an
irreconcilable alienation of the people of the two sections, while at
the same time building up for himself a reputation in his profession
scarcely second to that of any other in the country; and by it, before
he had reached the fiftieth year of his age, a fortune which made him
no longer dependent upon it for his livelihood.
The first public use he made of this independence was to retrieve the
fortunes of the Democratic party by delivering the city of New York
from a municipal combination which was threatening it with bankruptcy.
Of Tilden's many achievements as a public servant, it may well be
doubted if there was any for which he deserves so much honor as for his
part in the overthrow of this pillaging combination, familiarly known
as the Tweed Ring, nor any for which it seems so entirely impossible
to have then provided another equally competent leader who could and
would have given the time, incurred the expense, and assumed the risks
that Mr. Tilden did when, with no personal advantage in view, he boldly
consecrated several of what might have been the most lucrative years
of his professional life to this desperate battle with intrenched
municipal villany.
The people of the State were not slow to realize that a man with the
courage, power, and resources exhibited by Mr. Tilden in this memorable
conflict was precisely the kind of man needed by them for Governor; and
while yet wearied with the fatigue and covered with the dust of this
municipal struggle, he was constrained by his admirers to enter the
lists as a candidate against General Dix, the Republican candidate for
that office. The result was a change of about 100,000 votes from the
number by which Governor Dix had been elected two years before, and
Tilden's triumphant election to his place.
Without doffing his armor, and even before his investiture with his new
robes of office, he instituted an elaborate investigation of the canals
of the State; so that he had been but a few weeks in office before
he was engaged with numerically a far more formidable foe than the
one over which he had just triumphed, but one for which his official
position happily equipped him with far superior resources. His triumph
over the Canal Ring of the State was consequently so short, quick, and
decisive as to give him a national reputation, and to make him, long
before his term of office at Albany expired, the inevitable candidate
of his party to succeed General Grant for the Presidency. He was
unanimously nominated by the Democratic National Convention, held at
St. Louis in 1876, on the second ballot, and was elected by a popular
majority of over 250,000. He was then destined to receive a distinction
never shared by any President of the United States, of being an elect
of the people for that office, which, by the operation of a tribunal
unknown to the Constitution, was given to another.
For the remaining ten years of his life Tilden's health prevented his
being wholly a candidate or wholly not a candidate, so reluctant were
his numerous friends to give up all hope of such a restoration of
health as would enable him to resume once more the leadership of his
party. In this they were disappointed.
Thus for more than half a century Mr. Tilden was a shaper and a maker
of American history. What kind of history and by what means it was made
these volumes are expected to render more clear to the world, and his
fame perhaps more enduring.
Mr. Tilden's life, like that of Israel's second king, was, as we have
seen, a life of almost constant warfare, and of course he was always
more or less liable to be viewed by partisan eyes and judged with only
partial justice. None of us can judge himself quite correctly until he
can look back upon his conduct after a considerable lapse of years. So
we only see a public man as he is entitled to be seen, as Moses was
permitted to see his Lord: after He had passed. It is to be hoped that
sufficient time has elapsed since Tilden was taken from us to enable us
to see by the reflection of his life in this correspondence how lofty
was the plane of his entire public life, and how correctly he judged
his qualifications for a successful political career when he said that
his party standards were too high for the multitude. They were too
high, unquestionably, for what is commonly understood as success in
politics. It would have been easy for him--as these pages will show--to
have been President had his ethical standards been nearer the average
of those of the parties of his time.
Without presuming to institute any invidious comparisons, I have no
hesitation in expressing my conviction that neither in the writings,
speeches, or literary remains of any President of the United States
thus far will be found more suggestions profitable for teaching, for
reproof, for correction, and for the instruction of any American
who aspires to be a maker of a nation's laws or an administrator of
them, than will be found in Mr. Tilden's Writings, Speeches, and
Correspondence.
* * * * *
With the permission of Messrs. Houghton & Mifflin, I have prefixed
to these volumes an "Appreciation" of Mr. Tilden by the late James
Coolidge Carter, which originally appeared in the _Atlantic Monthly_ of
October, 1892. Mr. Carter's eminence at the American bar and forum, and
his relations, both personal and professional, with Mr. Tilden, give
value to his judgment of his deceased friend which, both for the honor
of himself and of Mr. Tilden, is entitled | 1,762.873431 |
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THE RING OF THE NIBLUNG
THE RHINEGOLD: PRELUDE
THE VALKYRIE: FIRST DAY OF THE TRILOGY
SIEGFRIED: SECOND DAY OF THE TRILOGY
THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS: THIRD
DAY OF THE TRILOGY
THE RHINEGOLD & THE VALKYRIE
BY RICHARD WAGNER | 1,762.974909 |
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 93.
October 29th, 1887.
QUITE A LITTLE HOLIDAY.
EXTRACT FROM A GRAND OLD DIARY. MONDAY, OCT. 17.
Self, wife, and HERBERT started early to escape our kind-hearted,
clear-headed admirers; so early, that I scarcely had time before
leaving to write thirty post-cards, seventy-six pages of notes for
my next magazine article, and to cut down half-a-dozen trees. Train
announced to leave Chester at 10:30, but got off at the hour.
This little joke (WATKIN'S notion) caused much amusement. Through
opera-glasses we could see bands of music, deputations, &c.,
constantly coming to the railway-stations to meet our train after
it had passed. Too bad! However, to prevent disappointment, and as
CHAMBERLAIN has been imitating me and vulgarised my original idea, I
knocked off some speeches, in pencil, and HERBERT threw them out of
the window as fast as I could write them. So far as we could make out
with a telescope, some of them reached their destination, and seemed
to be well received.
[Illustration: Master Willie Gladstone "really enjoying, and in some
measure appreciating and understanding," our Mr. Agnew's lectures on
Art.
_Vide Times Report, Oct. 18._]
Awfully pleased to meet Mr. WILLIAM AGNEW at Manchester. Odd
coincidence of Christian names. I shall speak of him and allude to him
as "The Other WILLIAM." He promised to keep by me, and show me all the
pictures worth seeing.
"T'Other WILLIAM," said I, "you are very good. As you know, I take a
great and sincere interest in pictures and works of Art, although I
know very little about them." T'Other WILLIAM protested. "No, T'Other
WILLIAM, I am right. You have been the means of providing me with
a commodity most difficult of all others to procure if you do not
possess it yourself--that is to say, you have provided me with
brains." Further protests from T'Other One. "No, T'Other WILLIAM,
hear me out; for you know in all cases where a judgment has had to be
passed upon works of Art, I have been accustomed to refer a great deal
to you, and lean upon you, because you have been constantly the means
of enabling me really to see, and really to enjoy, and in some measure
to appreciate and understand, all that you have shown to me."
I was so pleased with this little speech that I made HERBERT take it
down as I repeated it to him privately when T'Other was looking in
another direction. When I brought it out afterwards, at luncheon in
the Palm-house, it went wonderfully. So it should, because I felt
every word of it. T'Other WILLIAM is one of the kindest and most
courteous of my friends.
I was very pleased with the Exhibition, although perhaps (I am not
certain of this) I might have seen it better had not about four
thousand visitors followed our little party everywhere, cheering
vociferously. I was consequently obliged to keep my attention most
carefully fixed upon the exhibits, as when I caught any stranger's
eye, the stranger immediately (but with an eagerness that did not
exceed the limits of good behaviour) called upon me to make a speech
then and there upon the subject of "Home Rule." I am sure I should
on each and every occasion have only been too delighted, had not Sir
ANDREW warned me not to indulge too much in that sort of thing. The
crowd, however, had its decided advantage, inasmuch as we were carried
off our feet everywhere. In this luxurious fashion we were wafted to
Messrs. DOULTON'S Pottery Manufactory, to Mr. JESSE HAWORTH'S loan
exhibition of Egyptian antiquities, the name "JESSE" recalled to me
the poor misguided JOE'S "JESSE," the second fiddle, but _toujours
fidele_, and to a great many other shows of almost equal interest.
But of course _the_ feature of the Exhibition was the collection
of pictures. I was absolutely delighted. T'Other WILLIAM explained
everything, and amongst other portraits showed me one of myself by
MILLAIS. I imagine that everybody must have thought it very like,
because when they observed me inspecting it, they cheered more
vigorously than ever. For my part I can't help feeling that Sir JOHN
might have done more with the collars. He has not (to my thinking,
although I confess I may be wrong) put quite enough starch in them.
This is my own idea, as I did not consult T'Other One upon the
subject. Great as my reliance is upon him concerning works of Art, I
reserve the right of using my own judgment in the matter of collars.
Passing through the galleries I was delighted with everything I saw.
The only drawback to my pleasure was the fact that I was followed (as
I have already hinted) by a cheering crowd, who occasionally, and, no
doubt, accidentally, drowned the voice of my kind Mentor. Under other
circumstances I should have drawn the distinction between the Mentor
and the Tor-mentors. Think this, but don't say it. For instance, when
we were standing in front of "_Ramsgate Sands_," this is what reached
my ears eager for instruction:--
"'_Ramsgate Sands_,' by FRITH--(_'Hooray!'_)--who, as you know, has
just written--(_'Speech! Speech!' 'Home Rule!' 'Three cheers for
MORLEY!'_)--full of anecdotes of all sorts of interesting people. If
you went to Ramsgate now, you would find----(_'We are going to give
you another carpet, old man!' 'Hooray, hooray, hooray!' 'Three
Cheers for Home Rule!--An extra one for Manchester!'_)--and
practically the sand-frequenters we are carefully examining in this
picture are of thirty years ago. (_'Speech! Speech!'_) You must
know----(_'Hooray, hooray, hooray!'_)"
And at this period my dear friend was silenced by our being carried
away in an irresistible stream to the Palm-house, where we took part
in an excellent luncheon. Here I delivered my speech, which I
pride myself was first-rate. I called Manchester the Modern Athens,
explaining, however, that no offence was intended to the capital
of Midlothian. Take it all round, then, in spite of the "exuberant
interest" shown in me by my fellow-citizens, I have had a very
pleasant day, thanks chiefly to T'Other WILLIAM.
* * * * *
A PROGRESSIVE PROGRAMME.
_October 25._--Lecture by amiable Police Magistrate to six hulking
rowdies, who have been assaulting the Police, on the duty of "bearing
distress patiently." Tells them "not to do it again," and dismisses
them with aid from the Poor Box and his blessing. Surprise of rowdies.
_October 26._--Unemployed employ themselves in sacking portion of Bond
Street, during temporary withdrawal of Police for a little rest.
_October 27._--Sitting Alderman at Mansion House gives a Socialist
Deputation some sympathetic and fatherly advice, and recommends them
to "study laws of supply and demand." Invites them to Lord Mayor's
Banquet. Deputation accepts invitation readily, and, on emerging
into street, is chivied down Cheapside by infuriated mob of other
Socialists, who have not received invitations.
_October 28._--New Leaders of Mob (_vice_ Deputation, resigned)
denounce sympathetic Alderman as a "bloated exploiter." Nelson
Monument pulled down. Ten leading tradesmen, in neighbourhood of
Trafalgar Square, unable to do any business, owing to streets being
blocked with rioters, go into bankruptcy.
_October 29._--Gathering of "Unemployed" in Westminster Abbey.
Unemployed complain bitterly because chairs have no cushions. The
Dean, conducted to pulpit under strong police escort, preaches very
conciliatory sermon on duty of Upper Classes, all, except Deans, to
give most of what they possess to poor; advises poor to wait patiently
till they get it. Retires under heavy shower of hymn-books. Unemployed
"remain to prey."
_October 30._--Westminster Abbey sacked, in consequence of Dean's
conciliatory sermon. The Can | 1,762.975816 |
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[Illustration: The good-natured Giant]
THE
TWO STORY MITTENS
AND THE
LITTLE PLAY MITTENS:
BEING
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE SERIES.
BY
AUNT FANNY,
AUTHOR OF THE SIX NIGHTCAP BOOKS, ETC.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
443 & 445 BROADWAY.
LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN.
1867.
Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1862, by
FANNY BARROW,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the
Southern District of New York.
I DEDICATE
THESE TWO STORIES AND THIS LITTLE PLAY
TO MY FRIEND
MR. FRANK A----,
who makes fun of me before my face and speaks well of me behind my back.
I don't mind the first a bit; and as long as he continues to practise
the second, we will fight under the same flag.
LONG MAY IT AND HE WAVE!
CONTENTS.
PAGE
MORE ABOUT THE MITTENS, 7
THE PARTY LILLIE GAVE FOR MISS FLORENCE, 12
THE FAIRY BENEVOLENCE, 45
MASTER EDWARD'S TRIAL, 80
THE LITTLE PLAY MITTENS, 139
MORE ABOUT THE MITTENS.
THE mittens were coming bravely on. Some evenings, Aunt Fanny could not
send a story; and then the little mother read an entertaining book, or
chatted pleasantly with her children.
There had been twelve pairs finished, during the reading of the third
book, and several more were on the way. George had written the most
delightful letters, each of which was read to his eagerly-listening
sisters and brothers several times, for they were never tired of hearing
about life in camp.
This evening, the mother drew another letter, received that day, out of
her pocket. The very sight of the envelope, with the precious flag in
the corner, caused their eyes to sparkle, and their fingers to fly at
their patriotic and loving work.
"Attention!" said the mother in a severe, military tone. Everybody burst
out laughing, choked it off, immediately straightened themselves up as
stiff as ramrods, and she began:
"DEAR MOTHER, CAPTAIN, AND ALL THE BELOVED
SQUAD:--Our camp is splendid! We call it Camp
Ellsworth. It covers the westward <DW72> of a
beautiful hill. The air is pure and fresh, and our
streets (for we have real ones) are kept as clean
as a pin. Not an end of a cigar, or an inch of
potato peeling, dare to show themselves. Directly
back of the camp strong earthworks have been
thrown up, with rifle pits in front; and these are
manned by four artillery companies from New York.
Our commissary is a very good fellow, but I wish
he would buy pork with less fat. I am like the boy
in school, who wrote home to his mother, his face
all puckered up with disgust: "They make us eat
p-h-a-t!!" When I swizzle it (or whatever you call
that kind of cooking) in a pan over the fire,
there is nothing left of a large slice, but a
little shrivelled brown bit, swimming in about
half a pint of melted lard, not quarter enough to
satisfy a great robin redbreast like me; but I
make the most of it, by pointing my bread for some
time at it, and then eating a lot of bread before
I begin at the pork. The pointing, you see, gives
the bread a flavor."
The children screamed with laughter at this, and wanted to have some
salt pork cooked immediately to try the "pointing" flavor. Their mother
promised to have some for breakfast, and went on reading:
"We are very busy at drills. I give the boys
plenty of field exercise, quick step, skirmishes,
double quick, and all manner of manoeuvres. After
drill, we sing songs, tell jokes, and _play_ jokes
upon each other, but we don't forget, in doing
this, that we are _gentlemen_.
"Oh dear mother, I am crazy to be in action! I am
afraid, if we don't have a battle soon, I shall
get motheaten. Our General is a glorious fellow,
and is just as anxious as we are to have it over;
peace will come all the sooner. Hollo! Here comes
"Tapp," and I must blow out my half inch of tallow
candle, and go to bed.
"Good-by, all my dear ones. Love and pray for your
affectionate son and brother, GEORGE."
"Ah!" sighed the children, as the mother folded up the letter. Then they
were silent, thinking of the dear brother who wanted so much to be in
the dreadful battle; and the little mother was looking very mournful
when there came a ring at the bell.
The servant handed in a package, which proved to be a story from "Aunt
Fanny." It came very fortunately; and the mittens grew fast, as the
little mother read the interesting history of--
THE PARTY LILLIE GAVE FOR MISS FLORENCE.
THE PARTY LILLIE GAVE FOR MISS FLORENCE.
"OH, mamma, please _do_ buy me a new doll," said Lillie, one day in
June.
"Why, how you talk!" answered her mother. "What has become of your large
family?"
"Oh, mamma! Minnie, the china doll, has only one leg, and my three wax
dolls are no better. Fanny has only one arm; both Julia's eyes are out;
and the kitten scratched off Maria's wig the other day, and she has the
most dreadful-looking, bald pate you ever saw! Instead of its being made
of nice white wax, it is nothing but old brown paper! I think it is
very mean not to make dolls' bald heads like other people's! Then I
could have dressed Maria up in pantaloons, and made a grandfather of
her. But now she is fit for nothing but to be put in a cornfield to
scare away the crows."
Lillie's mother laughed, and kissed her lovely daughter, who had not met
with any of the terrible misfortunes that had befallen her wax and china
family. _She_ had both her round and chubby white arms; and two pretty
and active legs, that made themselves very useful in skipping and
jumping from morning till night; and just the prettiest golden brown wig
you ever saw. It was fastened on so tight, that the kitten, with all her
scratchings, could never twitch it off; in fact, every single hair was
fastened by a root in her dear little head, and fell in soft, natural
curls over her dimpled cheeks.
That very afternoon, her mother went out shopping; and looking in at a
toy shop window, she saw a splendid wax doll nearly three feet long. It
was dressed up in all manner of furbelows, but the dress did not look
half so fresh and lovely as the doll. The arms and hands were all wax,
round, pinky-white, and beautifully shaped, with two cunning dimples in
the elbows, and four little dimples in the back of each hand. She had
dark curling hair, large blue eyes, and very small feet.
"Well," said the loving mother to herself, "I really _must_ try to get
this splendid doll for my darling Lillie." Her own gentle blue eyes
quite sparkled at the thought of the happiness such a present would
bring with it. So she walked quickly in, and asked the price.
Oh dear! It was twenty dollars!
This was more than the mother thought right to give for the doll; and
she told the man so, very politely. He was a very wise man, and what is
more and better, kept a toy shop, because he loved children dearly; so
he put his head on one side, and thought; then he looked out of the
corner of his eye at the lady, and saw what a pleasant, sweet expression
was on her face; then he thought again--this time, how disappointed the
sweet little girl at home would be, if she knew her mother was out
looking for a doll for her, and came home without one; and then he said,
"What do you think the doll is worth?"
Lillie's mother told him what she considered a fair price, and the
darling, good toyman spoke up | 1,763.174823 |
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[Illustration: frontispiece]
THE RETURN
OF THE SOLDIER
BY
REBECCA WEST
NEW [Illustration: colophon] YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1918,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
THE RETURN OF THE SOLDIER
-C-
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
He lay there in the confiding relaxation of
a child _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
"Give it a brush now and then, like a good
soul" 6
She would get into the four-foot punt that
was used as a ferry and bring it over very
slowly 66
"I oughtn't to do it, ought I?" 176
THE RETURN
OF THE SOLDIER
CHAPTER I
"Ah, don't begin to fuss!" wailed Kitty. "If a woman began to worry in
these days because her husband hadn't written to her for a fortnight!
Besides, if he'd been anywhere interesting, anywhere where the fighting
was really hot, he'd have found some way of telling me instead of just
leaving it as 'Somewhere in France.' He'll be all right."
We were sitting in the nursery. I had not meant to enter it again, now
that the child was dead; but I had come suddenly on Kitty as she slipped
the key into the lock, and I had lingered to look in at the high room,
so full of whiteness and clear colors, so unendurably gay and familiar,
which is kept in all respects as though there were still a child in the
house. It was the first lavish day of spring, and the sunlight was
pouring through the tall, arched windows and the flowered curtains so
brightly that in the old days a fat fist would certainly have been
raised to point out the new, translucent glories of the rosebud.
Sunlight was lying in great pools on the blue cork floor and the soft
rugs, patterned with strange beasts, and threw dancing beams, which
should have been gravely watched for hours, on the white paint and the
blue distempered walls. It fell on the rocking-horse, which had been
Chris's idea of an appropriate present for his year-old son, and showed
what a fine fellow he was and how tremendously dappled; it picked out
Mary and her little lamb on the chintz ottoman. And along the
mantelpiece, under the loved print of the snarling tiger, in attitudes
that were at once angular and relaxed, as though they were ready for
play at their master's pleasure, but found it hard to keep from drowsing
in this warm weather, sat the Teddy Bear and the chimpanzee and the
woolly white dog and the black cat with eyes that roll. Everything was
there except Oliver. I turned away so that I might not spy on Kitty
revisiting her dead. But she called after me:
"Come here, Jenny. I'm going to dry my hair." And when I looked again I
saw that her golden hair was all about her shoulders and that she wore
over her frock a little silken jacket trimmed with rosebuds. She looked
so like a girl on a magazine cover that one expected to find a large "15
cents" somewhere attached to her person. She had taken Nanny's big
basket-chair from its place by the high-chair, and was pushing it over
to the middle window. "I always come in here when Emery has washed my
hair. It's the sunniest room in the house. I wish Chris wouldn't have
it kept as a nursery when there's no chance--" She sat down, swept her
hair over the back of the chair into the sunlight, and held out to me
her tortoiseshell hair-brush. "Give it a brush now and then, like a good
soul; but be careful. Tortoise snaps so!"
I took the brush and turned to the window, leaning my forehead against
the glass and staring unobservantly at the view. You probably know the
beauty of that view; for when Chris rebuilt Baldry Court after his
marriage he handed it over to architects who had not so much the wild
eye of the artist as the knowing wink of the manicurist, and between
them they massaged the dear old place into matter for innumerable
photographs in the illustrated papers. The house lies on the crest of
Harrowweald, and from its windows the eye drops to miles of emerald
pasture-land lying wet and brilliant under a westward line of sleek
hills; blue with distance and distant woods, while nearer it range the
suave decorum of the lawn and the Lebanon cedar, the branches of which
are like darkness made palpable, and the minatory gauntnesses of the
topmost pines in the wood that breaks downward, its bare boughs a close
texture of browns and purples, from the pond on the edge of the hill.
[Illustration: "Give it a brush now and then, like a good soul"]
That day its beauty was an affront to me, because, like most
Englishwomen of my time, I was wishing for the return of a soldier.
Disregarding the national interest and everything else except the keen
prehensile gesture of | 1,763.276634 |
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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.
NUMBER 12. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1840. VOLUME I.
[Illustration: THE TOWN OF ANTRIM.]
Travellers whose only knowledge of our towns is that derived in passing
through the principal street or streets, will be very apt to form an
erroneous estimate of the amount of picturesque beauty which they often
possess, and which is rarely seen save by those who go out of their way
expressly to look for it. This is particularly the case in our smaller
towns, in which the principal thoroughfare has usually a stiff and formal
character, the entrance on either side being generally a range of mud
cabins, which, gradually improving in appearance, merge at length into
houses of a better description, with a public building or two towards
the centre of the town. In these characteristics the highway of one town
is only a repetition of that of another, and in such there is rarely any
combination of picturesque lines or striking features to create a present
interest in the mind, or leave a pleasurable impression on the memory.
Yet in most instances, if we visit the suburbs of these towns, and more
particularly if they happen, as is usually the case, to be placed upon
a river, and we get down to the river banks, we shall most probably be
surprised and gratified at the picturesque combinations of forms, and the
delightful variety of effects, presented to us in the varied outline of
their buildings, contrasted by intervening masses of dark foliage, and
the whole reflected on the tranquil surface of the water, broken only by
the enlivening effect of those silvery streaks of light produced by the
eddies and currents of the stream.
Our prefixed view of the town of Antrim may be taken as an illustration
of the preceding remarks. As seen by the passing traveller, the town
appears situated on a rich, open, but comparatively uninteresting plain,
terminating the well-cultivated vale of the Six-mile-water towards the
flat shore of Loch Neagh; and with the exception of its very handsome
church and castellated entrance into Lord Ferrard’s adjoining demesne,
has little or no attraction; but viewed in connection with its river,
Antrim appears eminently picturesque from several points as well as from
that selected for our view--the prospect of the town looking from the
deer-park of Lord Massarene.
In front, the Six-mile-water river flowing placidly over a broad gravelly
bed, makes a very imposing appearance, not much inferior to that of the
Liffey at Island-bridge. The expanse of water at this point, however,
forms a contrast to the general appearance of the stream, which, although
it brings down a considerable body of water, flows in many parts of its
course between banks of not more than twenty feet asunder. The vale
which it waters is one of the most productive districts of the county,
and towards Antrim is adorned by numerous handsome residences rising
among the enlivening scenery of bleach-greens, for which manufacture
it affords a copious water-power. Scenes of this description impart a
peculiar beauty to landscapes in the north of Ireland. The linen webs of
a snowy whiteness, spread on green closely-shaven lawns sloping to the
sun, and generally bounded by a sparkling outline of running water, have
a delightfully _fresh_ and cheerful effect, seen as they usually are with
their concomitants of well-built factories and handsome mansions; and in
scenery of this description the neighbourhood of Antrim is peculiarly
rich. The Six-mile-water has also its own attraction for the antiquary,
being the _Ollarbha_ of our ancient Irish poems and romances, and flowing
within a short distance of the ancient fortress of Rathmore of Moylinny,
a structure which boasts an antiquity of upwards of 1700 years.
In our view the river appears crossed by a bridge, which through the
upper limbs of its lofty arches affords a pretty prospect of the river
bank beyond. In building a bridge in the same place, a modern county
surveyor would probably erect a less picturesque but more economical
structure, for the arches here are so lofty, that the river, to occupy
the whole space they afford for its passage, must rise to a height that
would carry its waters into an entirely new channel.
But the principal feature in our prospect is the church, the tower and
steeple of which are on so respectable a scale, and of such excellent
proportions, as to render it a very pleasing object as seen from any
quarter or approach of the town. It would be difficult to say in what the
true proportions of a spire consist, whether in its obvious and practical
utility as a penthouse roofing the tower, or in its emblematic aptitude
aspiring to and pointing towards heaven. Still, every cultivated eye will
remark how much more dignified and imposing is the effect of a spire
which is only moderately lofty, as compared with the breadth of its base,
than that of one which is extremely slender. We would point out the spire
of St Patrick’s Cathedral, for example, or that before us, on a smaller
scale, as instances of the former sort. Any one acquainted with the
proportions of those attenuated pinnacles which we so often find perched
on the roofs of churches erected within the last ten years, cannot be
at a loss for examples of the latter. The church itself at Antrim is,
however, rather defective in point of size, as compared with its nobly
proportioned tower and spire.
The suburb of the town, on this side of the bridge, runs up to the
demesne wall of Lord Ferrard’s residence, Antrim Castle, an antique
castellated mansion, seated boldly over the river in a small park laid
out in the taste of Louis XIV., from the terraced walks and stately
avenues of which there are many beautiful views of the surrounding
scenery.
In point of historical interest, there are but two events connected with
Antrim worthy of any particular note--the defeat of the insurgents here
in the rebellion of 1798, on which occasion the late Earl O’Neill lost
his life; and a great battle between the English and native Irish, in the
reign of Edward III., hitherto little spoken of in history, but forming
one in a series of events which exercised a great influence over the
destinies of this country.
Very soon after the first invasion of Ulster by John de Courcy, the
English power was established not only throughout the counties of
Down and Antrim, but even over a large portion of the present county
of Londonderry, then called the county of Coleraine. We find sheriffs
regularly appointed for these counties, and the laws duly administered,
down to the time of Edward III. The native Irish, who had been pushed out
by the advance of this early tide of civilization, took up their abode
west of the Bann, and in the hilly county of Tyrone, from whence they
watched the proceedings of their invaders, and, as opportunities from
time to time presented themselves, crossed the intervening river and
“preyed” the English country. The district around Antrim was from its
situation the one chiefly exposed to these incursions, and the duty of
defending it mainly devolved on the powerful sept of the Savages, who at
that time had extensive possessions in the midland districts of Antrim,
as well as in Down.
The most formidable of these incursions was that which took place
immediately after the murder of William de Burgho, Earl of Ulster, who
was assassinated by some malcontent English at the fords of Belfast, A.
D. 1333. The earl had been a strenuous asserter of the English law, and
had rendered himself obnoxious to the turbulent nobles of the country by
the severity with which he prohibited their adoption of Irish customs,
which, strange to say, had always great charms for the feudal lords of
the English pale, arising probably from the greater facilities which
the Brehon law afforded for exacting exorbitant rents and services from
their tenants. The immediate object of the assassins of the earl was to
prevent him carrying the full rigour of the law into operation against
one of his own _hibernicised_ kinsmen; but the ultimate consequences of
their act were felt throughout all Ireland for two centuries after. For
the Irish, taking advantage of the consternation attendant on the death
of the chief officer of the crown in that province, crossed the Bann
in unexampled numbers, and after a protracted struggle, in which they
were joined by some of the degenerate English, succeeded at length in
recovering the whole of the territory conquered by De Courcy, with the
exception only of Carrickfergus in Antrim, and a portion of the county
of Down, | 1,763.675842 |
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Volume 109, 24th August, 1895.
_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
[Illustration: IN MEDIO TUTISSIMUS!
"WHAT! NEVER BEEN ILL SINCE YOU WERE BORN! I SUPPOSE YOU'RE A
TEETOTALLER?"
"OH NO! BEEN A MODERATE DRUNKARD ALL MY LIFE!"]
* * * * *
SCRAPS FROM CHAPS.
THE IRISH YOLK.--In the name of the Profit--eggs! Irish co-operators
have already made giant strides in the production of milk and butter,
and now the Irish Co-operative Agency has decided, so says the _Cork
Daily Herald_, to "take up the egg-trade." We hope the egg-traders
won't be "taken up," too; if so, the trade would be arrested just when
it was starting, and where would the profit be then? "It is stated
that many Irish eggs now reach the English market dirty, stale, and
unsorted," so that wholesale English egg-merchants have preferred to
buy Austrian and French ones. Ireland not able to compete with
the foreigner! Perish the thought! A little technical education
judiciously applied will soon teach the Irish fowl not to lay "shop
'uns."
* * * * *
Feathers in Scotch Caps.
"The railway race to the North, like the race across the
Atlantic, has placed beyond challenge that on land as well as
on sea Scotch engines break the record."--_North British Daily
Mail._
Did not Lord BYRON anticipate this when he wrote (in _Mr. Punch's_
version of his poem on "Dark Lochnagar"):--
Yes, Caledonia, thy engines _are_ scrumptious,
Though even in England some good ones are seen;
And, if the confession won't render you bumptious,
We sigh for your flyers to far Aberdeen!
But if Caledonia is inclined to boast about its locomotives, let it
ponder its tinkers, and learn humility. The Glasgow "Departmental
Committee on Habitual Offenders, Vagrants, &c.," reports that
the nomad tinkers of Scotland number 1702, and of these 232 "were
apprehended for some crime or other during the year." _They_ don't do
151 miles in 167 minutes, like the locomotives--no, they do a couple
of months in Glasgow gaol; and they break the laws instead of breaking
records. There are 725 tinker children, who get practically no
education. Bonnie Scotland, land of grandeur, where the thousand
tinkers wander, you must catch these children, and educate them! The
adult tinker may be irreclaimable, but at least the children should
have a chance of something better--a choice of being soldier, sailor,
tinker, or tailor, as they prefer. If, after all, they elect to tink,
tink they must.
* * * * *
DR. JOHN RHYS, of Jesus College, Oxford, quite rose to the occasion
at the New Quay, Eisteddfod, and, in his presidential address, made
lengthy quotations in Welsh. "Na chaib a rhaw" must mean "nor cares
a rap." By the way, the _South Wales Daily News_, in reporting the
proceedings, finishes up by declaring that "the speech was listened to
with '_wrapt_' attention." As Mrs. MALAPROP remarked, "The parcel was
enraptured in brown paper."
* * * * *
ROBERT UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.
[Illustration]
Me and a werry old Frend of mine has seized the hoppertoonity that
ardly ever okkers to too frends as has little or nothink to do for
a hole week, to thurrowly enjoy theirselves for that time, and see
weather sutten places in our little world is reelly as butiful and as
injoyable as sum peeple tries to make out as they is. Our fust place
was Epping Forrest, where we spent a hole day from morning to nite in
what my frend called such a gallaxy of buty and wunder as werry likely
werry few peeple ever has injoyd as we did. We spent hole miles among
the most butiful Forest Trees as was ever seed, every single tree of
which was rather more butiful than the last, and not one of which but
what was a reel bootiful studdy. It took us jest about two hours to
eat our dinner afore we set to work again to pollish off the lovely
trees we had not yet seen; and then, when we had pollished off the
last of them, we staggered to our werry last carridge, and took the
sleep of the Just, and did not wake up till Brekfust come kindly to
our assistance, and helped us to sett out and try again to dishcover
similar seens of delishus injoyment to those so marwellusly injoyed
the day before!
The trees as we xamined on the secund day was quite a diffrent class
to them on the fust, and emused us every bit as delifefully as the
fust sett, tho they was quite a diffrent sett altogether. In won place
we drove bang into the wery middel of the thickest wood, and there we
both lost ourselves for nearly three ours, but it wasn't a minnet too
much for us, for we both agreed that, upon the hole, it was about the
werry loveliest part of the hole day's proceedens, and that we shoud
not regret havin to repeat it the next day. Oh them hundereds and
thowsends of lovely Trees! every one of which seems far more butiful
than the last, and quite equal to any we had yet seen. At one place we
was showed the place where Good Quean ALIZEBETH always went up stairs
on Orseback, coz she did not like going up stairs in public. At
another we was showed where the present QUEEN sat in her privet
Carridge, and made the hole nayberhood bow to her by the hunderd. TOM
and Me both went up to the werry place, and pinted it out to them as
didn't kno it, which made us both feel werry grand. The werry next
day we had made all our derangements for follering up our prewius
wisitashun, and making a grand fi-nayle of the hole lovely affare,
when, to our tremenjus disapintment, the wind begun for to blow most
orfully, and the rain begun for to rain wus as I beleeves, and as TOM
beleeves, than ewer it did afore, and so we was both obleeged for to
leeve our truly lovely forests, and defer our tree climing till a much
more drier hoppertoonity, which we both bleeves will appear in | 1,763.974598 |
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Produced by sp1nd and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note: 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_.
[Illustration: "I'LL UNLOCK IT BIMEBY--MAYBE." (_See page 91._)]
THE DESERTER
AND OTHER STORIES
_A Book of Two Wars_
BY
HAROLD FREDERIC
AUTHOR OF "IN THE VALLEY," "SETH'S BROTHER'S WIFE,"
"THE COPPERHEAD," ETC.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY_
MERRILL, SANDHAM, GILBERT GAUL AND GEORGE FOSTER BARNES
BOSTON
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1898,
BY
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY.
_All rights reserved._
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
THE DESERTER.
I. DISCOVERIES IN THE BARN 3
II. A SUDDEN DEPARTURE 20
III. FATHER AND SON 42
IV. THE "MEANEST WORD" 60
V. THE DEPUTY MARSHAL 80
VI. A HOME IN THE WOODS 98
VII. ANOTHER CHASE AFTER MOSE 117
A DAY IN THE WILDERNESS.
I. THE VALLEY OF DEATH 139
II. LAFE RECONNOITRES THE VALLEY 157
III. THE BOUNTY-JUMPER 177
IV. RED PETE IN CAPTIVITY 198
V. LAFE RESCUES AN OFFICER, AND FINDS HIS COUSIN 216
HOW DICKON CAME BY HIS NAME.
I. THE MAKING OF A SOLDIER 239
II. A BURST FOR FREEDOM 260
III. A STRANGE CHRISTMAS EVE 279
IV. UP IN THE WORLD 299
WHERE AVON INTO SEVERN FLOWS.
I. HUGH THE WRITER 319
II. SIR HEREWARD'S RING 350
III. HOW HUGH MET THE PRINCE 381
ILLUSTRATIONS.
"'I'LL UNLOCK IT BIMEBY--MAYBE'" _Frontispiece_
PAGE
"'SH-H! TALK LOWER!'" 27
"'GIMME THAT GUN!'" 61
"'DROP IT--YOU!'" 175
LAFE AND THE BOUNTY-JUMPER 195
"'I'M STEVE HORNBECK'S SON!'" 231
"SIR WATTY CAME STALKING DOWN" 249
"'WHOSE BLOOD IS THIS?'" 285
"HE ADVANCED AND KISSED THE LADY'S HAND" 357
"TWO DOZEN PIKE-HEADS CLASHED DOWN AS BY A SINGLE TOUCH" 385
THE DESERTER.
CHAPTER I.
DISCOVERIES IN THE BARN.
It was the coldest morning of the winter, thus far, and winter is no
joke on those northern tablelands, where the streams still run black in
token of their forest origin, and old men remember how the deer used to
be driven to their clearings for food, when the snow had piled itself
breast high through the fastnesses of the Adirondacks. The wilderness
had been chopped and burned backward out of sight since their pioneer
days, but this change, if anything, served only to add greater
bitterness to the winter's cold.
Certainly it seemed to Job Parshall that this was the coldest morning
he had ever known. It would be bad enough when daylight came, but the
darkness of this early hour made it almost too much for flesh and blood
to bear. There had been a stray star or two visible overhead when he
first came out-of-doors at half-past four, but even these were missing
now.
The crusted snow in the barnyard did throw up a wee, faint light of its
own, for all the blackness of the sky, but Job carried, besides a
bucket, a lantern to help him in his impending struggle with the pump.
This ancient contrivance had been ice-bound every morning for a
fortnight past, and one needn't be the son of a prophet to foresee that
this morning it would be frozen as stiff as a rock.
It did not turn out to be so prolonged or so fierce a conflict as he
had apprehended. He had reasoned to himself the previous day that if
the pump-handle were propped upright with a stick overnight, there
would be less water remaining in the cylinder to freeze, and had made
the experiment just before bedtime.
It worked fairly well. There was only a good deal of ice to be knocked
off the spout with a sledge-stake, and then a disheartening amount of
dry pumping to be done before the welcome drag of suction made itself
felt in the well below, like the bite of a big fish in deep water.
Job filled his bucket and trudged back with it to the cow-barn,
stamping his feet for warmth as he went.
By comparison with the numbing air outside, this place was a dream of
coziness. Two long lines of cows, a score or more on a side, faced each
other in double rows of stanchions. Their mere presence had filled the
enclosure with a steaming warmth.
The ends of the barn and the loft above were packed close with hay,
moreover, and half a dozen lantern lights were gleaming for the hired
men to see by, in addition to a reflector lamp fastened against a post.
The men did not mind the cold. They had been briskly at work cleaning
up the stable and getting down hay and fodder, and the exercise kept
their blood running and spirits light. They talked as they plied shovel
and pitchfork, guessing how near the low-mercury mark of twenty below
zero the temperature outside had really fallen, and chaffing one of
their number who had started out to go through the winter without
wearing an overcoat.
Their cheery voices, resounding through the half-gloom above the soft,
crackling undertone of the kine munching their breakfast seemed to add
to the warmth of the barn.
The boy Job had begun setting about a task which had no element of
comfort in it. He got out a large sponge, took up the bucket he had
brought from the well, and started at the end of one of the rows to
wash clean the full udder of each of the forty-odd cows in turn. In a
few minutes the milkers would be ready to begin, and to keep ahead of
them he must have a clear start of a dozen cows.
When he had at last reached this point of vantage, the loud din of the
streams against the sides of the milkers' tin pails had commenced
behind him.
He rose, straightened his shoulders, and shook his red, dripping hands
with a groan of pain. The icy water had well nigh frozen them.
It was a common thing for all about the barn to warm cold hands by
thrusting them deep down into one of the barrels of brewers' grains
which stood in a row beyond the oat-bin. The damp, crushed malt
generates within its bulk so keen a heat that even when the top is
frozen there will be steam within. Job went over and plunged his cold
hands to the wrist in the smoking fodder. He held them there this
morning for a luxurious extra minute, wondering idly as he did so how
the cows sustained that merciless infliction of ice-water without any
such comforting after-resource.
Suddenly he became conscious that his fingers, into which the blood was
coming back with a stinging glow, had hit upon something of an unusual
character in the barrel. He felt of it vaguely for a moment, then drew
the object forth, rubbed off the coating of malt, and took it over to
the lamp.
It was a finger-ring carved out of a thick gutta-percha button, but
with more skill than the schoolboys of those days used to possess; and
in its outer rim had been set a little octagonal silver plate, bearing
some roughly cut initials.
Job seemed to remember having seen the ring before, and jumped to the
conclusion that some one of the hired men had unconsciously slipped it
off while warming his hands in the grains. He went back with it to the
milkers, and went from one to another, seeking an owner.
Each lifted his head from where it rested against the cows flank,
glanced at the trinket, and making a negative sign bent down again to
his work. The last one up the row volunteered the added comment:
"You better hustle ahead with your spongin' off; I'm just about through
here!"
The boy put the circlet in his pocket--it was much too large for any of
his fingers--and resumed his task. The water was as terribly cold as
ever, and the sudden change seemed to scald his skin; but somehow he
gave less thought to his physical discomfort than before.
It was very funny to have found a ring like that. It reminded him of a
story he had read somewhere, and could not now recall, save for the
detail that in that case the ring contained a priceless jewel, the
proceeds of which enriched the finder for life. Clearly no such result
was to be looked for here. It was doubtful if anybody would give even
twenty-five cents for this poor, home-made ornament. All the same it
was a ring, and Job had a feeling that the manner of its discovery was
romantic.
Working for a milkman does not open up so rich a field of romance that
any hints of the curious or remarkable can be suffered to pass
unnoticed. The boy pondered the mystery of how the ring got into the
barrel. For a moment he dallied with the notion that it might belong to
his employer, who owned the barn and almost all the land within sight,
and a prosperous milk-route down in Octavius.
But no! Elisha Teachout was not a man given to rings; and even if he
were, he assuredly would not have them of rubber. Besides, the grains
had only been carted in from town two days before, and Mr. Teachout had
been nursing his rheumatism indoors for fully a week.
It was more probable that some one down in the brewery at Octavius had
lost the ring. When Job had been there for grains, he had noticed that
the workers were cheerful and hearty fellows. No doubt they might be
trusted to behave handsomely upon getting back a valued keepsake which
had been given up as forever gone.
Perhaps--who could tell?--this humble, whittled-out piece of
gutta-percha might be prized beyond rubies on account of its family
associations. Such things had happened before, according to the
story-books; and forthwith the lad lost himself in a maze of brilliant
day-dreams, rose-tinted by this possibility.
He could almost behold himself adopted by the owner of the brewery--the
fat, red-faced Englishman with the big watch-chain, whom he had seen
once walking majestically among his vats. Perhaps, in truth, Job was a
trifle drowsy.
All at once he roused himself with a start, and began to listen with
all his ears. The milkers behind him were talking about the ring. They
had to shout to one another to overcome the fact of separation and the
noise in their pails, and Job could hear every word.
"I tell you who had a ring like that--Mose Whipple," one of them called
out. "Don't you remember? He made it with his jack-knife, that time he
was laid up with the horse kickin' him in the knee."
"Seems's if I do," said another. "He was always whittlin' out somethin'
or other--a peach-stone basket, or an ox-gad, or somethin'."
"Some one was tellin' me yesterday," put in a third, "that old man
Whippf sick abed. Nobody ain't seen him around for up'ards of a
fortnight. I guess this cold snap'll about see the last o' him. He's
been poorly all the fall."
"He ain't never ben the same man since Mose 'listed," remarked the
first speaker; "that is if you call it 'listin' when a man takes his
three hundred dollars to go out as a substitute."
"Yes, and don't even git the money at that, but jest has it applied to
the interest he owes on his mortgage. _That's_ payin' for a dead horse,
if anything is in this world!"
"Well, Mose is the sort o' chap that _would_ be workin' to pay for
some kind o' dead horse all his life, anyway. If it wasn't one it'd
be another. Never knew a fellow in all my born days with so little
git-up-and-git about him. He might as well be shoulderin' a musket as
anything else, for all the profit he'd git out of it.
"A chip of the old block, if there ever was one. The old man always
wanted to do a little berryin', an' a little fishin', an' a little
huntin', an' keep a dozen traps or so in the woods, an' he'd throw up
the best-payin' job in the deestrict to have a loafin' spell when the
fit took him--an' Mose was like him as two peas in a pod.
"I remember one year, Mose an' me hired out in the middle o' March, an'
we hadn't fairly begun early ploughin' before he said he wasn't feelin'
right that spring, an' give up half his month's wages to go home, an'
then what do we see next day but him an' his father down by the bridge
with their fishpoles, before the snow-water'd begun to git out o' the
creek. What _kin_ you do with men like that?"
"Make substitutes of 'em!" one of the milkers exclaimed, and at this
there was a general laugh.
Every one on the farm, and for that matter on all the other farms for
miles round, knew that Elisha Teachout had been drafted the previous
summer, and had sent Moses Whipple to the front in his place. This
relation between the rich man and the poor man was too common a thing
in those war times to excite particular comment. But, as Mr. Teachout
was not beloved by his hired men, they enjoyed a laugh whenever the
subject came up.
Job had gone over to the lamp, during the progress of this talk, and
scrutinized the ring. Surely enough, the clumsily scratched initials on
the little silver plate, obviously cut down from an old three-cent
piece, were an M and a W.
This made it all the more difficult to puzzle out how the ring came in
the barrel. The lad turned the problem over in his mind with increasing
bewilderment.
He had known Mose Whipple all his life. His own father, who died some
years ago, had accounted Mose among his intimate friends, and Job's
earliest recollections were of seeing the two start off together of a
spring morning with shot-guns on their shoulders and powder-flasks hung
round their bodies.
They had both been poor men, and if they had not cared so much for
hunting--at least if one of them had not--Job reflected that probably
this very morning he himself would be sleeping in a warm bed, instead
of freezing his hands in the hard employ of Elisha Teachout.
It was impossible not to associate Mose with these recriminatory
thoughts; yet it was equally impossible to be angry with him long. The
boy, indeed, found himself dwelling upon the amiable side of Mose's
shiftless nature. He remembered how Mose used to come round to their
poor little place, after Job's father's death, to see if he could help
the widow and her brood in their struggle.
After Mrs. Parshall had married again, and gone West, leaving Job to
earn his own living on the Teachout farm, Mose had always kept a kindly
if intermittent eye on the boy. Only the previous Christmas he had
managed, somehow, to obtain an old pair of skates as a present for Job,
and when he had gone to the war in the following August, only the fact
that he had to sell his shot-gun to pay a pressing debt prevented his
giving that to the boy for his own.
The news that old Asa Whipple was ill forced its way to the top of
Job's thoughts. He resolved that that very day, if he could squeeze in
the time for it, he would cut across lots on the crust to the Whipple
house, and see how the lonely old man was.
As the milkers said, old Asa had been "poorly" since his Mose went
away. It was only too probable that he had been extremely poor as well.
Even when Mose was at home, theirs was the most poverty-stricken
household in the township. Left to his own resources, and failing
swiftly all at once in health, the father had tried to earn something
by knitting mittens and stockings.
It had looked funny enough to see this big-framed, powerfully built old
man fumbling at his needles like some grandmother in her rocking-chair
by the stove.
It occurred to Job now that there was something besides humor in the
picture. He had been told that people were making woollen mittens and
stockings now, like everything else, by machinery. Very likely old Asa
couldn't sell his things after he had knit them; and that might mean
starvation.
Yes, that very day, in spite of everything, he would go over and see.
He had finished his task now. The milkers had nearly finished theirs.
Two of the hired men were taking the cloth strainers off the tops of
all the cans but one, and fastening on the covers instead. He could
hear the bells on the harness of the horses outside, waiting with the
big sleigh to rush off to town with the milk. It was still very dark
out-of-doors.
Job put away his water-bucket, warmed his hands once more in the
grains-barrel, and set about getting down a fresh supply of hay for the
cows. Six weeks of winter had pretty well worn away the nearest haymow,
and the boy had to go further back toward the end of the barn, into a
darkness which was only dimly penetrated by the rays of the lantern.
Working thus, guided rather by sense of touch than of sight, the boy
suddenly felt himself stepping on something big and rounded, which had
no business in a haymow. It rolled from under his feet, and threw him
off his balance to his hands and knees. A muttered exclamation rose
from just beside him, and then suddenly he was gripped bodily in the
clutch of a strong man.
Frightened and vainly struggling, Job did not cry out, but twisted his
head about in the effort to see who it was that he had thus strangely
encountered. There was just light enough from the distant lantern to
reveal in the face so menacingly close to his--of all unlooked-for
faces in the world--that of Mose Whipple!
"Why, Mose!" he began, in bewilderment.
"Sh-h! Keep still!" came in a fierce whisper, "unless you want to see
me hung higher than Haman!"
CHAPTER II.
A SUDDEN DEPARTURE.
The man upon whose sleeping form Job had stepped in the haymow sat up
and looked about him in a half-puzzled fashion, mechanically brushing
the loose particles from his hair and neck.
"I s'pose it's mornin'," he whispered, after a minute's silence. "How
long'll it be before daylight?"
Job, released from the other's clutch, had scrambled to his feet, and
stood staring down in astonishment at his old friend, Mose Whipple. He
had regained his fork, and held it up as if to repel a possible second
attack.
"What did you want to pitch on to me that way for?" he asked at last in
displeased tones.
"Sh-h! Talk lower!" urged Mose under his breath. "I didn't mean to hurt
you, sonny. I didn't know who you was. You come tromplin' on me here
when I was fast asleep, and I took hold of you when I wasn't hardly
woke up, you see, that's all. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
[Illustration: "SH-H! TALK LOWER!"]
"No," Job admitted grudgingly. "But there wasn't no need to throw me
down and choke me all the same."
"I thought it was somebody comin' to catch me," explained the other,
still in a whisper. "But who else is here in the barn? What time is it
gettin' to be?"
"They're just through milkin'," replied the boy. "They're gettin' the
cans out into the sleigh. They'll all be gone in a minute or two. Time?
Oh, it ain't six yet."
"That's all right," said Mose, with a weary sigh of relief. He added,
upon reflection: "Say, sonny, can you manage to get me something to
eat? I've gone the best part of two days now without a mouthful."
"Mebbe I can," responded Job, doubtingly. Then a sudden thought struck
him. "Say, Mose," he went on, "I bet I can tell what you did the first
thing when you came into the barn here. You went and stuck your hands
into the grains there--that's how it was."
The man displayed no curiosity as to the boy's meaning. "Yes, by
jiminy!" he mused aloud. "I'd 'a' liked to have got in head first. I
tell you, sonny, I was about as near freezin' to death as they make
'em. I couldn't have gone another hundred rods to save my life. They'd
have found me froze stiff on the road, that's all."
"But what are you doing here, anyway?" asked Job. "You ain't gone and
deserted, have you?"
"Well," said the other, doggedly, "you can call it what you like. One
thing's certain--I ain't down South, _be_ I?"
"Something else is pretty certain, too," the boy put in. "They'll hang
you, sure!"
Mose did not seem to have much doubt on this point. "Anyway, I'll see
the old man first," he said. "It's pitch dark outdoors, ain't it?"
The boy nodded. "I must git along with my work," he commented, after
another little silence. "What are you figgerin' on doin', anyway,
Mose?" he asked gravely.
"Well, I'm goin' to sneak out while it's still dark," said the man,
"and git across lots to our place, and just wake up the old man,
and--and--well, see how he is, that's all. Mebbe I can manage it so
that I can skip out again, and nobody be the wiser. But whether or no,
that's what I'm bound to do. Prob'ly you've heard--is he--is his health
pretty middlin' good?"
"Seems to me some one was saying something about his being kind o'
under the weather lately," replied Job, with evasion. "I was thinkin'
of goin' over this afternoon myself, if I could git the time, to see
him. The fact is, Mose, I guess he _is_ failing some. It's been a
pretty tough winter for old folks, you know. Elisha Teachout's been
laid up himself with rheumatics now for more'n a fortnight, and he
ain't old exactly."
"He ain't had 'em half bad enough!" cried Mose, springing to his feet
with suddenly revived energy. "If he's let the old man suffer--if he
ain't kept his word by him--I'll--I'll take it out of his old hide if I
have to go to jail for it!"
"You've got enough other things to go to jail for, and get hung for
into the bargain, I should think," said Job. "You'd better not talk so
loud, either."
Surely enough, one of the hired men seemed to have remained in the
barn, and to have caught the sound of voices--for the noise of his
advancing footsteps could be heard on the floor between the stanchions.
Mose threw himself flat, and rolled under the hay as best he could. Job
began to sing in a low-voiced, incoherent way for a moment, and then
loudly. Prying up a forkful of hay, he staggered under the burden back
to the cows, singing as he came toward the intruder.
It was only Nelse Hornbeck, an elderly and extra hand who worked at
starvation wages during the winter, chopping firewood and doing odd
chores about the house and barns. When he saw Job he stopped. He was in
a sociable mood, and though he leaned up against one of the stanchions
and offered no sign of going farther, displayed a depressing desire for
conversation.
The boy came and went, bringing in the hay and distributing it along
under the double row of broad pink noses on either side. He made the
task as long as he could in the hope of tiring Nelse out, but without
avail.
"I dunno but I'm almost sorry I didn't enlist myself last fall,"
drawled Hornbeck, settling himself in an easy posture. "So far's I can
make out, Mose Whipple and the rest of the boys are having a great
sight better time of it down South, with nothin' to do and plenty o'
help to do it, than we are here to hum. Why, Steve Trimble's
brother-in-law writes him that they're havin' more fun down there than
you can shake a stick at; livin' snug and warm in sort o' little houses
built into the ground, and havin' horse-races and cock-fights and so on
every day. They ain't been no fightin' since Thanksgivin', he says, and
they're all gittin' fat as seals."
"Well, why _don't_ you enlist then?" demanded Job, curtly, going on
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London. Edward Moxon & Co. Dover Street.
_MOXON'S MINIATURE POETS._
A SELECTION FROM THE WORKS OF FREDERICK LOCKER.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY RICHARD DOYLE.
LONDON:
EDWARD MOXON & CO., DOVER STREET.
1865.
PRINTED BY BRADBURY AND EVANS, WHITEFRIARS.
THE ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. E. MILLAIS, R.A., AND RICHARD DOYLE
THE COVER FROM A DESIGN BY JOHN LEIGHTON, F.S.A.
THE SERIES PROJECTED AND SUPERINTENDED BY
Some of these pieces appeared in a volume called "London Lyrics," of
which there have been two editions, the first in 1857, and the second
in 1862; a few of the pieces have been restored to the reading of the
First Edition.
TO C. C. L.
I pause upon the threshold, Charlotte dear,
To write thy name; so may my book acquire
One golden leaf. For Some yet sojourn here
Who come and go in homeliest attire,
Unknown, or only by the few who see
The cross they bear, the good that they have wrought:
Of such art thou, and I have found in thee
The love and truth that HE, the MASTER, taught;
Thou likest thy humble poet, canst thou say
With truth, dear Charlotte?--"And I like his lay."
ROME, _May_, 1862.
CONTENTS.
THE JESTER'S MORAL
BRAMBLE-RISE
THE WIDOW'S MITE
ON AN OLD MUFF
A HUMAN SKULL
TO MY GRANDMOTHER
O TEMPORA MUTANTUR!
REPLY TO A LETTER ENCLOSING A LOCK OF HAIR
THE OLD OAK-TREE AT HATFIELD BROADOAK
AN INVITATION TO ROME, AND THE REPLY:--
THE INVITATION
THE REPLY
OLD LETTERS
MY NEIGHBOUR ROSE
PICCADILLY
THE PILGRIMS OF PALL MALL
GERALDINE
"O DOMINE DEUS"
THE HOUSEMAID
THE OLD GOVERNMENT CLERK
A WISH
THE JESTER'S PLEA
THE OLD CRADLE
TO MY MISTRESS
TO MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS
THE ROSE AND THE RING
TO MY OLD FRIEND POSTUMUS
THE RUSSET PITCHER
THE FAIRY ROSE
1863
GERALDINE GREEN:--
I. THE SERENADE
II. MY LIFE IS A----
MRS. SMITH
THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD
THE VICTORIA CROSS
ST. GEORGE'S, HANOVER SQUARE
SORRENTO
JANET
BERANGER
THE BEAR PIT
THE CASTLE IN THE AIR
GLYCERE
VAE VICTIS
IMPLORA PACE
VANITY FAIR
THE LEGENDE OF SIR GYLES GYLES
MY FIRST-BORN
SUSANNAH:--
I. THE ELDER TREES
II. A KIND PROVIDENCE
CIRCUMSTANCE
ARCADIA
THE CROSSING-SWEEPER
A SONG THAT WAS NEVER SUNG
MR. PLACID'S FLIRTATION
TO PARENTS AND GUARDIANS
BEGGARS
THE ANGORA CAT
ON A PORTRAIT OF DR. LAURENCE STERNE
A SKETCH IN SEVEN DIALS
LITTLE PITCHER
UNFORTUNATE MISS BAILEY
ADVICE TO A POET
NOTES
The Jesters Moral
I wish that I could run away
From House, and Court, and Levee:
Where bearded men appear to-day,
Just Eton boys grown heavy.--W. M. PRAED.
Is human life a pleasant game
That gives a palm to all?
A fight for fortune, or for fame?
A struggle, and a fall?
Who views the Past, and all he prized,
With tranquil exultation?
And who can say, I've realised
My fondest aspiration?
Alas, not one! for rest assured
That all are prone to quarrel
With Fate, when worms destroy their gourd,
Or mildew spoils their laurel:
The prize may come to cheer our lot,
But all too late--and granted
'Tis even better--still 'tis not
Exactly what we wanted.
My school-boy time! I wish to praise
That bud of brief existence,
The vision of my youthful days
Now trembles in the distance.
An envious vapour lingers here,
And there I find a chasm;
But much remains, distinct and clear,
To sink enthusiasm.
Such thoughts just now disturb my soul
With reason good--for lately
I took the train to Marley-knoll,
And crossed the fields to Mately.
I found old Wheeler at his gate,
Who used rare sport to show me:
My Mentor once on snares and bait--
But Wheeler did not know me.
"Goodlord!" at last exclaimed the churl,
"Are you the little chap, sir,
What used to train his hair in curl,
And wore a scarlet cap, sir?"
And then he fell to fill in blanks,
And conjure up old faces;
And talk of well-remembered pranks,
In half forgotten places.
It pleased the man to tell his brief
And somewhat mournful story,
Old Bliss's school had come to grief--
And Bliss had "gone to glory."
His trees were felled, his house was razed--
And what less keenly pained me,
A venerable donkey grazed
Exactly where he caned me.
And where have all my playmates sped,
Whose ranks were once so serried?
Why some are wed, and some are dead,
And some are only buried;
Frank Petre, erst so full of fun,
Is now St. Blaise's prior--
And Travers, the attorney's son,
Is member for the shire.
Dame Fortune, that inconstant jade,
Can smile when least expected,
And those who languish in the shade,
Need never be dejected.
Poor Pat, who once did nothing right,
Has proved a famous writer;
While Mat "shirked prayers" (with all his might!)
And wears, withal, his mitre.
Dull maskers we! Life's festival
Enchants the blithe new-comer;
But seasons change, and where are all
These friendships of our summer?
Wan pilgrims flit athwart our track--
Cold looks attend the meeting--
We only greet them, glancing back,
Or pass without a greeting!
I owe old Bliss some rubs, but pride
Constrains me to postpone 'em,
He taught me something, 'ere he died,
About _nil nisi bonum_.
I've met with wiser, better men,
But I forgive him wholly;
Perhaps his jokes were sad--but then
He used to storm so drolly.
I still can laugh, is still my boast,
But mirth has sounded gayer;
And which provokes my laughter most--
The preacher, or the player?
Alack, I cannot laugh at what
Once made us laugh so freely,
For Nestroy and Grassot are not--
And where is Mr. Keeley?
O, shall I run away from hence,
And dress and shave like Crusoe?
Or join St. Blaise? No, Common Sense,
Forbid that I should do so.
I'd sooner dress your Little Miss
As Paulet shaves his poodles!
As soon propose for Betsy Bliss--
Or get proposed for Boodle's.
We prate of Life's illusive dyes,
Yet still fond Hope enchants us;
We all believe we near the prize,
Till some fresh dupe supplants us!
A bright reward, forsooth! And though
No mortal has attained it,
I still can hope, for well I know
That Love has so ordained it.
PARIS, _November, 1864_.
BRAMBLE-RISE.
What changes greet my wistful eyes
In quiet little Bramble-Rise,
Once smallest of its shire?
How altered is each pleasant nook!
The dumpy church used not to look
So dumpy in the spire.
This village is no longer mine;
And though the Inn has changed its sign,
The beer may not be stronger:
The river, dwindled by degrees,
Is now a brook,--the cottages
Are cottages no longer.
The thatch is slate, the plaster bricks,
The trees have cut their ancient sticks,
Or else the sticks are stunted:
I'm sure these thistles once grew figs,
These geese were swans, and once these pigs
More musically grunted.
Where early reapers whistled, shrill
A whistle may be noted still,--
The locomotive's ravings.
New custom newer want begets,--
My bank of early violets
Is now a bank for savings!
That voice I have not heard for long!
So Patty still can sing the song
A merry playmate taught her;
I know the strain, but much suspect
'Tis not the child I recollect,
But Patty,--Patty's daughter;
And has she too outlived the spells
Of breezy hills and silent dells
Where childhood loved to ramble?
Then Life was thornless to our ken,
And, Bramble-Rise, thy hills were then
A rise without a bramble.
Whence comes the change? 'Twere easy told
That some grow wise, and some grow cold,
And all feel time and trouble:
If Life an empty bubble be,
How sad are those who will not see
A rainbow in the bubble!
And senseless too, for mistress Fate
Is not the gloomy reprobate
That mouldy sages thought her;
My heart leaps up, and I rejoice
As falls upon my ear thy voice,
My frisky little daughter.
Come hither, Pussy, perch on these
Thy most unworthy father's knees,
And tell him all about it:
Are dolls but bran? Can men be base?
When gazing on thy blessed face
I'm quite prepared to doubt it.
O, mayst thou own, my winsome elf,
Some day a pet just like thyself,
Her sanguine thoughts to borrow;
Content to use her brighter eyes,--
Accept her childish ecstacies,--
If need be, share her sorrow!
The wisdom of thy prattle cheers
This heart; and when outworn in | 1,764.076279 |
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YOU KNOW ME AL
RING W. LARDNER
YOU KNOW ME
AL
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[Illustration: From left to right, back row--Private Thrower, Orderly
Sergeant George Little, Sergeant John Little, Bugler Minardo Rosser.
Second row, left--Lieut. Harvey Cribbs; right, Artificer William
Johnson. Front row, left--Corporal Thos. Owen, Walter Guild. Seated,
on right--Sergeant James R. Maxwell; left, Rufus Jones or "Rube,"
T. A. Dearing's servant.]
A HISTORY
_of_
LUMSDEN'S BATTERY
C. S. A.
Written by Dr. George Little
_and_
Mr. James R. Maxwell
Published by R. E. Rhodes Chapter
United Daughters of the Confederacy
Tuskaloosa, Alabama
Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
without note. Original spellings, punctuation and discrepancies have
been retained, including the list of Privates with numerous names out
of alphabetical order.
This History of Lumsden's Battery was written from memory in 1905 by
Dr. Maxwell and Dr. Little, with the help of a diary kept by Dr. James
T. Searcy.
From organization Nov. 4, 1861, to Oct. 15, 1863, this data is the work
of Dr. George Little, from Oct. 15, 1863, to its surrender May 4, 1865,
the work of Mr. James R. Maxwell.
LUMSDEN'S BATTERY
Its Organization and Services in the Army of the Confederate States.
At the close of the spring term of the Circuit Court of Tuscaloosa
County, Alabama, in May, 1861, Judge Wm. S. Mudd announced from the
bench that Mr. Harvey H. Cribbs would resign the office of Sheriff of
the County for the purpose of volunteering into the Army of the
Confederate States and would place on the desk of the Clerk of the
Court an agreement so to volunteer signed by himself, and invited all
who wished to volunteer to come forward and sign the same agreement.
Many of Tuscaloosa's young men signed the same day.
By the end of the week following the list had grown to about 200 men.
Capt. Charles L. Lumsden, a graduate of the Virginia Military Institute
was commandant of Cadets at the University of Alabama and had been
contemplating the getting up of a company for service in Light or Field
Artillery and had been corresponding with the War Department and Army
officers already in service concerning the matter.
These volunteers, on learning this fact, at once offered themselves to
Capt. Lumsden as a company of such artillery.
Dr. George W. Vaughn, son of Edward Bressie Vaughn (who afterwards gave
two other younger sons to the cause) and Mr. Ebenezer H. Hargrove, also
of Tuscaloosa County, had married two Mississippi girls, sisters, the
Misses Sykes of Columbus, Mississippi, and were engaged in planting in
Lowndes County, Miss. Hearing of this Artillery Co. they sent their
names to be added to the list. Dr. George Little, Professor of
Chemistry in Oakland College, Mississippi, and his younger brother,
John Little, Principal of the Preparatory Department, resigned their
places and returned to Tuscaloosa to join this Company. Edward Tarrant,
Superintendent of Education for Tuscaloosa County, had a flourishing
educational institute called the Columbian Institute at Taylorville
four and a half miles south of Tuscaloosa. He gave up his school and
joined the Company, where two of his sons, Ed William and John F.,
afterwards followed him.
Joseph Porter Sykes, a nephew of the Sykes sisters, had been appointed
by Pres. Davis a Cadet in the regular C. S. Army and at his request was
assigned to this Company. Dr. Nicholas Perkins Marlowe and Drs. Caleb
and Wm. Toxey served as surgeons at different times and Dr. Jarretts
and McMichael and Dr. Hill also later. We mention these doctors who
entered the ranks as privates as emphasizing the spirit that was moving
the young men of the time in every trade and profession. But their
country had too crying a need of medical men, in a few weeks, to permit
them to continue to serve with arms in their hands, and all of them
were soon promoted to the service for which their education fitted
them, serving as Regimental and Brigade surgeons and high in their
profession after the close of the war. In May the election of officers
was held and resulted in election of Charles Lumsden, Captain; George
W. Vaughn, Sr., First Lieutenant; Henry H. Cribbs, Jr., First
Lieutenant; Ebenezer H. Hargrove, Sr., Second Lieutenant; Edward
Tarrant, Jr., Second Lieutenant; Joseph Porter Sykes, Cadet.
The following were appointed non-commissioned Officers:
George Little, Orderly Sergeant; John Snow, Quartermaster Sergeant;
John A. Caldwell, Sergeant; A. Coleman Hargrove, Sergeant; Sam
Hairston, Sergeant; Wiley G. W. Hester, Sergeant; Horace W. Martin,
Sergeant; James L. Miller, Sergeant; Wm. B. Appling, Corporals; Wade
Brooks, J. Wick Brown, James Cardwell, Thomas Owen, Alex T. Dearing,
Wm. Hester, Seth Shepherd, Wm. Morris, Artificer, Wheelwright; Wm.
Worduff, Artificer, Harness; C. W. Donoho, Bugler; John Drake, Farrier.
At the request of Capt. Lumsden, Dr. George Little went to Mobile and
offered the service of the Company to Maj. Gen. Jones M. Witters, who
accepted it and promised a six gun Battery fully equipped and ordered
the Company to report at once for duty at Mobile. It went down on a
service steamboat and was first quartered in a cotton warehouse,
Hitchock's, on Water St., and mustered into service by Capt. Benjamin C.
Yancy of the regular C. S. Army. Horses and equipments were furnished
and the Captain was ordered to take two 24-lb. siege guns to Hall's
mills, a turpentine still fourteen and a half miles south west of
Mobile where Gen. Gladden was encamped with a Brigade of Infantry and
where a battalion of artillery was organized under the command of Major
James H. Hallonquist, a West Point graduate, and when in a camp of
instruction we were broken into the life and duties of soldiers, a life
very different from the experience of any of the company hitherto. On
March 3, 1862, the command was marched to Dog River Factory, a march of
about fifteen miles, when we boarded the Steamer Dorrance and were
carried to Ft. Gaines on Dauphin Island at the mouth of Mobile Bay.
At Ft. Gaines the drudgery of camp life was experienced in mounting
guns, blistering hands with shovels and crowbars and noses and ears by
the direct rays of a semi-tropical sun.
When bounty money was paid to the command, another new experience was
had by many, for released from restraints of home, church and public
sentiment, it did not take long for many to learn to be quite expert
gamblers. But the more thoughtful sent most of their money home to
their families and parents, and the general sentiment being against
such a lowering of the moral tone of the command, Capt. Lumsden issued
orders, absolutely forbidding all gambling in the camp, with the
approval of the great majority of his men.
About this time by some unknown means, it was reported in Tuscaloosa
that Capt. Lumsden was intemperate or addicted to drink. As soon as the
command heard of this report, they took immediate steps to "sit down on
the lie," to the great relief of friends and relatives at home. Neither
then nor in any succeeding years could any such charge have been
truthfully made against him. The boys thought this year's service
around Mobile a tough experience. They could not keep cleanly in their
dress nor enjoy all luxuries of life to which they had been accustomed
but the time soon came when they could look back to their first year's
experience of soldier life as luxurious, in comparison to rags and
semi-starvation that afterwards fell to their lot for months at a time.
Two steamboats were each making their weekly trips to Tuscaloosa and
back. Parents and friends came and went. The least expression of a
need, to the folks at home brought the wished for articles. Nothing was
too good for the boys at the front and fish and oysters were abundant
in season. The latter were in those days only considered eatable in the
R. months, as the saying was: i.e., during the months whose names
contained the letter R. So that from May to August, the poor things
could enjoy life without the fear of man. Ice was not then available to
preserve them during the summer months.
At Fort Gaines, Lt. Cribbs was given charge of the Ordnance Department.
In the early spring, the company received as recruits from Tuscaloosa
many good men. Feb. 24, 1862 there arrived with Lt. Tarrant, James T.
Searcy, John Chancellor, James Manly, Ed. King, Jno. Molette, T. Alex
Dearing and ten or twelve others, E. R. Prince, Jas. F. Prince. It is
from a personal diary kept by James T. Searcy that much of this first
and second year's experience of the command has been culled and all of
the dates.
On the trip down the boat "scraped the woods" considerably, butted out
one tree by the roots, butted another that staggered the boat without
injuring the tree, but left about twenty feet of the guards in the
water as the tree's trophy in the encounter. Such incidents were in
those days quite common in steamboat travel in low water.
Mumps, measles and kindred camp diseases made their usual inroads on
the health of the command, and many of them had to spend a part of the
time in the hospital in Mobile, George W. Smith and James L. Miller
among them.
Major Hallonquist was in command of the Artillery at Ft. Gaines but on
April 4th was ordered to join Gen. Bragg at Corinth, Tenn., and Col.
Melanclhan Smith took command of the Fort. Officers and men were
longing to meet the enemy in battle.
At Ft. Gaines, a few Yankee vessels blockading could be seen in the
distance, but the monotony was wearing, and each commanding officer was
pulling all possible ropes to secure orders to proceed to the front, in
this case to Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston's army near Corinth. Capt.
Lumsden got promises but by perhaps some political pull Gage's Mobile
battery secured the deserved privilege to report at Corinth and in the
battle of Shiloh got badly cut up and after the battle was ordered back
to Mobile to recuperate and Lumsden's was ordered to Corinth and given
the same guns and equipment.
On Sundays near Mobile Dr. Hill, a private, often officiated as a
preacher so that during this first year, Sundays could be distinguished
from the other days of the week. He was from near Columbus,
Mississippi, and a practicing physician as well. Tuesday, April 15,
1862, three days after the battle of Shiloh, found the command at
Corinth, having left Mobile on Monday and it took possession of Gage's
guns, etc., on April 16th, got tents 4:00 p.m. April 17th, so for the
first time for two nights, they slept on the ground in the open air, a
new thing then, the general rule thereafter.
Several Tuscaloosa Doctors were near Corinth, assisting in caring for
the wounded, amongst them Drs. Leland and Cochrane. Even to see so many
gathered as in this first army was a new sight and experience to these
raw troops.
On April 23rd the battery was attached to Chalmers Brigade, and marched
twelve miles over awful roads of sticky mud and water to Monterey,
where everything was next morning put in line of battle but the rifle
and cannon firing was a mere reconnaissance of the enemy and all hands
bivouaced in place on the wet ground.
Here much sickness prevailed and the rains were continuous. The
hospital tent was soon filled and on one day Orderly Sergeant Little,
out of a roll of 170 men took to a church in Corinth used as a hospital
in charge of Dr. N. P. Marlowe, sixty men sick. They had measles,
pneumonia, erysipelas, typhoid fever and chronic diarrhea. At this
evacuation of Corinth, the battery had barely enough men to drive the
horses and Gen. Chalmers made a detail from the 10th Mississippi
infantry to fill out the company.
Want of vegetable food, drinking water from seep wells and exposure to
cold rains caused the sickness. It was general in the army and probably
made necessary the retreat to Tupelo when, with better water, the
company and army quickly secured usual health. The evening of May 3,
1862 and that night found company under arms in line of battle with
Chalmer's Brigade, but no enemy appeared. Within two weeks ending May
8th, five of the men died: Fulgham, Hall, Hyche, Sims and Lingler. They
gave their lives to the cause.
To die in hospital was harder, much harder, than to die in the
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THE STRANGE ADVENTURE OF JAMES SHERVINTON
By Louis Becke
T. FISHER UNWIN, 1902
LONDON
[Illustration: titlepage 010]
CHAPTER I
The night was close and stifling, and the dulled bellowing of the surf
on the weather side of the island told me that the calm was about to
break at last, and in another hour or so the thirsty, sandy soil would
be drenched with the long-expected rain, and the drooping palms and
pandanus trees wave their wearied branches to the cooling trade-wind
once more.
I rose from my rough bed of cane-work and mats, and, lighting my pipe,
went outside, walked down to the beach, and seating myself on a canoe,
looked out upon the wide expanse of ocean, heaving under a dark and
lowering sky, and wondered moodily why I was ever such an idiot as to
take charge of a trading station on such a God-forsaken place as Tarawa
Island in the Gilbert Group.
My house--or rather the collection of thatched huts which formed the
trading station--stood quite apart from the native village, but not so
far that I could not hear the murmur of voices talking in their deep,
hoarse, guttural tongue, and see, moving to and fro on the beach, the
figures of women and children sent | 1,764.975135 |
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
This is Volume 2 of 3. The first volume can be found in Project
Gutenberg at: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/57016
The List of Illustrations has been copied from Volume I. This list
describes six illustrations, two in each volume.
As the Editor notes in his Preface in Volume I, “Some, though very
few, coarse expressions, have been suppressed by the Editor, and the
vacant spaces filled up by asterisks.” There is one such occurrence
in this volume (on page 205). Some omitted text is indicated by * * *
(on page 416.)
The Editor has also inserted the occasional [word] in brackets, when
that makes the passage more sensible.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
A superscript is denoted by ^x or ^{xx}, for example M^R.
Footnote anchors are denoted by [number], and the footnotes have been
placed at the end of each chapter.
Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.
MEMOIRS
OF THE REIGN OF
KING GEORGE THE SECOND.
VOL. II.
[Illustration: M^R. FOX.
London, Henry Colburn, 1846.]
MEMOIRS
OF THE REIGN OF
KING GEORGE THE SECOND.
BY
HORACE WALPOLE,
YOUNGEST SON OF SIR ROBERT WALPOLE, EARL OF ORFORD.
EDITED, FROM THE ORIGINAL MSS.
WITH A PREFACE AND NOTES,
BY THE LATE
LORD HOLLAND.
Second Edition, Revised.
_WITH THE ORIGINAL MOTTOES._
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1847.
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAPTER I.
A. D. PAGE
1755. Endeavours for Peace with France in vain 2
Duke of Dorset removed; Lord Hartington made
Lord-Lieutenant 3
Debate on King Charles’s Martyrdom _ib._
Affair of Sheriffs-Depute in Scotland, and Debates
thereon 4
Ireland 10
History of the Mitchel Election 11
Scotch Sheriff-Depute Bill 14
History of Earl Poulet 18
Preparations for War 19
Ireland _ib._
Preparations for War in France 20
King’s Journey to Hanover _ib._
Duke of Cumberland at head of Regency 21
Prospects of War 22
Affairs of Ireland 23
CHAPTER II.
1755. Commencement of the War 27
War with France 28
War in America 29
Author avoids detailing Military events minutely 30
Defeat and Death of General Braddock 31
Events at Sea 32
Spain neutral 33
Fears for Hanover _ib._
Negotiations at Hanover. Treaties made there 34
Dissensions in Ministry and Royal Family 36
Disunion of Fox and Pitt 37
Affairs of Leicester House 39
King arrives _ib._
Ministers endeavour to procure support in Parliament 41
Fox made Secretary of State 43
Resignations and Promotions 44
Both Ministers insincere and discontented 45
Sir William Johnson’s Victory 46
Accession of Bedford Party _ib._
The Parliament meets 47
Address in Lords 48
New Opposition of Pitt, &c. 50
Debates on the Treaties _ib._
Pitt &c. dismissed 62
Sir George Lyttelton Chancellor of the Exchequer 63
Complaint of Mr. Fox’s Circular to Members of
Parliament _ib._
Debate on Fox’s Circular Letter 65
Debates on number of Seamen 67
CHAPTER III.
1755. Earthquake at Lisbon 77
Debates on a Prize Bill 78
Death of the Duke of Devonshire 86
Debates on the Army _ib._
Remarks on the above Debate 96
Debates on a new Militia Bill 97
CHAPTER IV.
1755. Debates on the Treaties 103
Affair of Hume Campbell and Pitt 107
Changes in the Administration settled 139
Lord Ligonier and Duke of Marlborough _ib._
Further Changes and new Appointments 140
Lord Barrington and Mr. Ellis 141
Pensions granted to facilitate Changes in Ministry 143
Parliamentary Eloquence _ib._
History of Oratory. Account and comparison of Orators 144
CHAPTER V.
1756. Parliament 150
Negotiations with France _ib._
Accommodation with the King of Prussia 152
Parliament _ib._
Affair of Admiral Knowles _ib._
Supplies 153
Grants to North America 154
Parliament and Parties _ib._
Hessians sent for 155
Mischiefs produced by Marriage Act _ib._
Prevot’s Regiment 156
Debate on Prevot’s Regiment 157
Author’s Speech on Swiss Regiments 163
Debate on Swiss Regiments continued 170
Affair of Fox and Charles Townshend 172
Divisions 174
Swiss Regiment Bill opposed in all its stages _ib._
Swiss Regiment Bill passed the Commons and Lords 175
Anecdote of Madame Pompadour 176
Debates on Budget and Taxes 177
New Taxes _ib._
CHAPTER VI.
1756. Tax on Plate 179
Tranquillity restored in Ireland 183
Hessians and Hanoverians sent for 184
Private Bill for a new Road, and Dissensions thereupon 186
Hessians 187
Hanoverians 188
Debate on Hanoverians _ib._
French attack Minorca 190
Militia Bill 191
Vote of Credit _ib._
Debates on the Prussian Treaty 197
War declared 201
Militia Bill in Lords _ib._
Parliament Prorogued 202
Troops raised by Individuals 203
The Prince of Wales of age 204
History of Lord Bute’s favour _ib._
Scheme of taking the Prince from his Mother 206
CHAPTER VII.
1756. Minorca 209
Character of Richelieu and Blakeney 210
Siege of Minorca 212
Incapacity of Administration 213
Reinforcements from Gibraltar refused 214
French Reports from Minorca 215
Public Indignation _ib._
Admiral Byng’s Despatch 217
Remarks on the Character of Government 218
The Empress-Queen joins with France 220
Conclusion of the Law-suit about New Park 221
Continuation of the proceedings with the Prince
of Wales 221
Death of the Chief Justice Rider, and designation
of Murray 223
Loss of Minorca 225
Proceedings on Loss of Minorca 227
General Fowke tried 229
Addresses on the Loss of Minorca 230
Revolution in Sweden 231
Deduction of the Cause of the War in Germany 232
German Ministers 233
Bruhl _ib._
Kaunitz 234
Views and Conduct of the Courts of Dresden and Vienna 235
Character of the Czarina 236
League of Russia, Austria, and Saxony 238
King of Prussia apprized of the League against him _ib._
King of Prussia endeavours to secure Peace 240
Invasion of Saxony by the King of Prussia 241
Dresden Conquered, and the Archives searched by
the Prussians 242
Campaign in Saxony 243
CHAPTER VIII.
1756. Affairs at Home 245
Mr. Byng publishes a Defence 246
Effect of Byng’s Pamphlet 247
Loss of Oswego 248
Affair of the Hanoverian Soldier at Maidstone _ib._
The King admits Lord Bute into the Prince’s Family 249
Fox discontented with Newcastle, and insists
on resigning 251
Precarious state of the Ministry 252
Lord Grenville takes Fox’s resignation to the King 253
Fox, irresolute, applies to the Author 254
Author’s motives in declining to interfere 255
Fox has an Audience 256
Pitt’s objections and demands 257
Prince of Wales’s new Household 258
Pitt visits Lady Yarmouth 259
State of Parties 260
Duke of Newcastle determines to resign 262
Pitt declines acting with Fox _ib._
Negotiations for the formation of a new Ministry 263
Fox labours to obstruct the formation of a Ministry 268
The designs of Fox defeated 269
Duke of Devonshire accepts the Treasury _ib._
New Ministry 270
Duke of Newcastle resigns 272
The Chancellor resigns 273
The changes settled 274
Pitt Minister 275
Parliament meets 276
CHAPTER IX.
1757. Character of the Times 278
Contest between the Parliament and Clergy in France 279
France 280
King of France stabbed 281
Torture and execution of Damiens 282
The King compliments Louis on his escape 283
Trial of Admiral Byng 284
Admiral Byng’s sentence, and the behaviour of the
Court-Martial 287
Author’s impressions 288
Sentence of Court-Martial on Byng 289
Representation of Court-Martial 292
Remarks on Byng’s case 293
Two Highland Regiments raised 300
Ordnance Estimates 301
Guinea Lottery _ib._
Militia Bill 302
Ordnance 303
CHAPTER X.
1757. Baker’s Contract 304
Parliamentary Inquiries limited to Minorca 305
Byng’s Sentence produces various impressions 306
The Sentence of the Court-Martial referred to
the Judges 307
Conduct of the Judges on the Case referred to them 308
Conduct of Fox 309
The Admiralty sign the Sentence 311
The Sentence notified to the House of Commons 312
Mr. Pitt demands Money for Hanover 313
Lord G. Sackville declares for Pitt 314
Motives of Lord G. Sackville 315
Approaching Execution of Byng 317
House of Commons 318
Sir Francis Dashwood animadverts on Byng’s Sentence _ib._
Debate on Byng’s Sentence _ib._
Some applications to the King for mercy 326
Members of Court-Martial desirous to be absolved from
their Oaths 327
Author urges Keppel to apply to House of Commons _ib._
Author promotes an application to House of Commons 328
Sir Francis Dashwood applies for Mr. Keppel _ib._
Keppel’s application to House of Commons _ib._
Debate on Keppel’s application 329
Keppel’s application considered in Cabinet 331
The King’s Message on respiting Byng 332
Breach of Privilege in the King’s Message 332
Debate on the King’s Message _ib._
Bill to release Court-Martial from Oath 335
Sensations excited by proceedings in House of Commons 341
Holmes and Geary disavow Keppel 342
Further debate on Court-Martial Bill 344
Court-Martial Bill passes House of Commons 350
CHAPTER XI.
1757. Debate in Lords 351
Debate in Lords on proposal to examine the Members
of Court-Martial 354
Court-Martial ordered to attend House of Lords 358
Examination of Court-Martial in House of Lords 359
Bill debated and dropped in House of Lords 366
Result of Proceedings in Parliament 367
Petition for Mercy from City intended and dropped 368
Death of Admiral Byng 369
Reflections on Admiral Byng’s behaviour 370
Rochester Election 372
Death of Archbishop Herring 374
Abolition of the Office of Commissioners of
Wine-Licences 375
Intrigues to dismiss Mr. Pitt, and form a new Ministry 376
The Duke goes to Hanover to command the Army 378
Change in Ministry 379
------
APPENDIX 383
ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOL. I.
GEORGE II. _Frontispiece_.
MR. PELHAM p. 378
VOL. II.
MR. FOX _Frontispiece_.
DUKE OF BEDFORD 270
VOL. III.
MR. PITT _Frontispiece_.
DUKE OF NEWCASTLE 182
MEMOIRS
OF THE REIGN OF
KING GEORGE THE SECOND.
1755.
Invenies etiam disjecti membra.--_Hor._
CHAPTER I.
Fruitlessness of our efforts to maintain Peace with France
at the commencement of the year 1755--Lord Hartington, Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland--Debate on King Charles’s Martyrdom--Scotch
Sheriff-Depute Bill--Speeches in the House of Commons--The St.
Michael Election--History of Earl Powlett--Preparations for
War--The King’s Journey to Hanover--Duke of Cumberland at the
head of the Regency--Affairs of Ireland.
The tranquillity of the Administration continued to be disturbed
by repeated accounts of great armaments preparing in France for
the West Indies; of which General Wall was believed to have given
us the first intimation. Their marine grew formidable, but their
insults unwisely outstripped their increasing power. We took
the alarm; two regiments were ordered from Ireland; and by the
beginning of February a fleet of thirty ships of the line was
fitted out with equal spirit and expedition. Lord Anson had great
merit in that province where he presided. The Earl of Hertford, a
man of most unblemished morals, but rather too gentle and cautious
to combat so presumptuous a Court, was named Embassador to Paris,
whither Monsieur de Mirepoix was desired to write, that if they
meaned well, we would send a man of the first quality and character.
The Duke of Marlborough succeeded Lord Gower in the Privy Seal,
and the Duke of Rutland, a nobleman of great worth and goodness,
returned to Court, which he had long quitted, yet without enlisting
in any faction, though governed too much by a mercenary brother;
and was appointed Lord Steward.
France sent a haughty answer, accompanied with these inadmissible
proposals; that each nation should destroy all their forts on the
south of the Ohio, which would leave them in possession of all
the north side of that river; and whereas the Five Nations were
allotted to the division of England by the Treaty of Utrecht, and
the French had built forts amongst them contrary to that Treaty,
and we agreeably to it, they demanded that we should destroy
such forts, while they should be permitted to maintain theirs.
Lord Hertford’s journey was suspended; at the same time that his
brother, Colonel Conway, rose merely on the basis of his merit
to a distinguished situation, entirely unsought, uncanvassed.
The Ministry had perceived that it was unsafe to venture Ireland
again under the Duke of Dorset’s rule; and they had fixed on Lord
Hartington to succeed, as the most devoted to their views, and as
the least likely, from the wariness of his temper, to throw himself
into the scale of either faction. He refused to accept so uncommon
an honour, unless Mr. Conway, with whom he was scarce acquainted,
would consent to accompany him as Secretary and Minister. Mr.
Conway’s friends would not let him hesitate.
January 29th.--Mr. Fox having proposed that the House should sit
the next day, to read some Bill for which the time pressed, the
Speaker urged the Act of Parliament that sets apart that day for
the commemoration of what is ridiculously termed _King Charles’s
Martyrdom_. It occasioned a warm squabble between the Speaker and
Fox, and between Sir George Lyttelton[1] and General Mordaunt;
and though Sir Francis Dashwood talked of moving for a repeal of
the Act, the Speaker prevailed for observing the solemnity. One
can scarce conceive a greater absurdity than retaining the three
holidays dedicated to the house of Stuart. Was the preservation of
James the First a greater blessing to England than the destruction
of the Spanish Armada, for which no festival is established? Are
we more or less free for the execution of King Charles? Are we at
this day still guilty of his blood? When is the stain to be washed
out? What sense is there in thanking Heaven for the restoration of
a family, which it so soon became necessary to expel again? What
action of Charles the Second proclaimed him the--Sent of God? In
fact, does not the superstitious jargon, rehearsed on those days,
tend to annex an idea of sainthood to a worthless and exploded
race? and how easy to make the populace believe, that there was
a divine right inherent in a family, the remarkable events of
whose reigns are melted into our religion, and form a part of our
established worship!
February 20th.--The new Lord Advocate of Scotland moved that
the Bill, passed seven years before, for subjecting their
Sheriffs-depute to the King’s pleasure during that term, and which
was on the point of expiring, after which they were to hold their
offices for life, should continue some time longer on the present
foot. It was opposed with great eloquence and knowledge by one
Elliot, a young Scotch civilian, lately chosen into Parliament. The
measure had been one of the steps taken after the late Rebellion,
to create greater dependence on the Crown, and to empower it to
commit places of trust to more loyal hands, as it should be found
necessary.
26th.--The House went again upon the Scotch Bill. Charles Townshend
warmly opposed the Ministerial plan, urged that the independence of
the Sheriffs-depute was a case connected with every thing sacred,
and hoped that the most habitually-attached to a Ministry, who are
generally the most unfeeling, would think on this. What signifies
the best constitution, if the Judges [are] not independent, and
their judgments [not] impartial? If the people are oppressed, what
matters it by whom? That this alteration was a breach of faith to
Scotland--that these Sheriffs are formed according to the claim
of right, and to the Act of Settlement; would not the King have
sufficient power over them if they were to hold their offices only
_quam diù se benè gesserint_? that he was sorry to see _that_ basis
shaken, on which this Administration stands, or it ought to stand
on none. That this will be regarded with fear and amaze; with
fear, for the people will not know what is to follow, or whether
this is not an attempt to try how far they will bear: with amaze,
for Murray had pronounced that there was not one Jacobite left in
Scotland. That he neither meaned ambition nor courted popularity,
but looked upon himself as an executor of those who had planned the
Revolution.
Lord George Sackville replied well, and ridiculed the importance
with which Mr. Townshend had treated so immaterial a business, the
utmost extent of the jurisdiction of the Sheriffs not extending
to decide finally upon property of above the value of 12_l._ Yet,
whoever had come into the House, not knowing the subject, would
have concluded that a question was agitating for taking away the
Judges from Westminster-hall. The lawyers, he said, were not agreed
as to the extent of their criminal jurisdiction: in cases of
treason, it is agreed, they have none. That the Sheriffs-depute,
if supported by military authority, might have suppressed the last
Rebellion. With such resources for good, and so tied up from ill,
would you not entrust the disposition of them with the Crown? The
more this family encroaches illegally, the more they lessen their
tenure in the Crown. But this measure was taken at the request of
the people of Scotland; have any there petitioned against it? Nor
is it a breach of faith, for one Parliament may correct the acts of
a preceding.
The Attorney-General laboured, in a speech extremely artful, to
convince the Speaker, whose Whig spirit had groaned over this
attempt, that it was no breach of the principles of the Revolution;
and he insisted that it was by no means the sense of Scotland, that
these little magistrates should be for life. He owned, that Judges,
who are to decide on questions of State, should be for life, as in
cases of treason, where it is not fit to trust the Crown with its
own revenge; in cases of charters, &c.; but it is not necessary to
be so strict in mere cases of _meum_ and _tuum_. Even Charles, and
James the Second, permitted other Judges to be for life, as the
Master of the Rolls, the Judge of the Marshalsea, &c., because the
Crown could remove trials into the King’s Bench.
This, with many more details of law, too long to rehearse, were
poorly answered by Lord Egmont; by Pitt, with great fire, in one
of his best-worded and most spirited declamations for liberty,
but which, like others of his fine orations, cannot be delivered
adequately without his own language; nor will they appear so
cold to the reader, as they even do to myself, when I attempt to
sketch them, and cannot forget with what soul and grace they were
uttered. He did not directly oppose, but wished rather to send the
Bill to the Committee, to see how it could be amended. Was glad
that Murray would defend the King, only with a salvo to the rights
of the Revolution; he commended his abilities, but tortured him
on his distinctions and refinements. He himself indeed had more
scruples; it might be a Whig delicacy--but even that is a solid
principle. He had more dread of arbitrary power dressing itself in
the long robe, than even of military power. When master principles
are concerned, he dreaded accuracy of distinction: he feared that
sort of reasoning: if you class everything, you will soon reduce
everything into a particular; you will then lose great general
maxims. Gentlemen may analyze a question till it is lost. If I can
show him, says Murray, that it is not My Lord Judge, but Mr. Judge,
I have got him into a class. For his part, could he be drawn to
violate liberty, it should be _regnandi causâ_, for this King’s
reigning. He would not recur for precedents to the diabolic divans
of the second Charles and James--he did not date his principles of
the liberty of this country from the Revolution: they are eternal
rights; and when God said, “_let justice be justice_,” he made it
independent. The Act of Parliament that you are going to repeal is
a proof of the importance of Sheriffs-depute: formerly they were
instruments of tyranny. Why is this attempted? is it to make Mr.
Pelham more regretted? He would have been tender of cramming down
the throats of people what they are averse to swallow. Whig and
Minister were conjuncts he always wished to see. He deprecated
those, who had more weight than himself in the Administration, to
drop this; or besought that they would take it for any term that
may comprehend the King’s life; for seven years, for fourteen,
though he was not disposed to weigh things in such golden scales.
Fox said, that he was undetermined, and would reserve himself for
the Committee; that he only spoke now, to show it was not crammed
down his throat; which was in no man’s power to do. That in the
Committee he would be free, which he feared Pitt had not left it
in his own power to be, so well he had spoken on one side. That he
reverenced liberty and Pitt, because nobody could speak so well on
its behalf.
Nugent made an impertinent and buffoon speech, though not without
argument, the tenour of which was to impeach professors of liberty,
who, he said, (and which _he_ surely could say on knowledge,)
always became bankrupts to the public. He perceived, he said,
that the House was impatient to rise--they were not worthy of
liberty!--yet, what were they to stay to hear? vague notions of
liberty, which my Lord Egmont could even admire in Poland, and in
the dungeons of the Barons! The Craftsman[2] and Common Sense,
which had often very little common sense, had wound the notions of
liberty too high. That he had read the Craftsman over again two
years ago, and had found it poor stuff! that this was no more a
breach of public faith, than the innovations which had been made in
the Act of Settlement. Though the House sat till ten at night, no
division ensued.
27th.--The Chancellor and Newcastle acquainted the Duke of Dorset
that he was to return no more to Ireland. He bore the notification
ill, and produced a letter from the Primate, which announced
a calmer posture of affairs, and mentioned a meeting of the
Opposition, at which no offensive healths had been suffered. Lord
George Sackville, who was present, had more command of himself,
and owned, that one temperate meeting did not afford sufficient
grounds to say, that animosities were composed; and he agreed to
the prudential measure of their not going over again. His father
rejoined, that if the situation of affairs should prove to be
mended, he hoped his honour might be saved, and he be permitted to
return to his government. The next morning Andrew Stone conceded
for his brother the Primate, who, he owned, was sufficiently
elevated, and would be better without power. At last the Duke of
Dorset begged a little respite, and that the King might not yet be
acquainted with the scheme. He wanted to fill up Malone’s place of
Prime Serjeant, and to obtain the dismission of Clements.
The next business in Parliament did not deserve to be noticed for
any importance in itself; the scenes, to which it gave rise | 1,765.2757 |
2023-11-16 18:46:29.3550040 | 6,243 | 10 |
Produced by David Garcia, Martin Pettit and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER
[Illustration: MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER MISBEHAVES HIMSELF [See p. 205]]
MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER
A Sequel to "TOBY TYLER"
BY JAMES OTIS
AUTHOR OF "TIM AND TIP," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration: Logo]
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1882, 1910, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY JAMES OTIS KALER
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE SCHEME 1
II. THE BLIND HORSE 14
III. ABNER BOLTON 31
IV. THE PONY 40
V. OLD BEN 54
VI. THE GREAT EVENT 66
VII. ATTRACTIONS FOR THE LITTLE CIRCUS 78
VIII. THE DINNER PARTY 91
IX. MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER 105
X. THE ACCIDENT 119
XI. CHANGE OF PLANS 131
XII. A REHEARSAL 143
XIII. THE RESULTS OF LONG TRAINING 156
XIV. RAISING THE TENT 170
XV. STEALING DUCKS 183
XVI. A LOST MONKEY 197
XVII. DRIVING A MONKEY 208
XVIII. COLLECTING THE ANIMALS 218
XIX. THE SHOW BROKE UP 231
XX. ABNER'S DEATH 237
ILLUSTRATIONS
MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER MISBEHAVES HIMSELF _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
PLANNING THE CIRCUS 14
MR. AND MRS. TREAT EXHIBIT PRIVATELY 92
TOBY RESCUES THE CROWING HEN FROM MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER 234
MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER
CHAPTER I
THE SCHEME
"Why, we could start a circus jest as easy as a wink, Toby, 'cause you
know all about one an' all you'd have to do would be to tell us fellers
what to do, an' we'd 'tend to the rest."
"Yes; but you see we hain't got a tent, or bosses, or wagons, or
nothin', an' I don't see how you could get a circus up that way;" and
the speaker hugged his knees as he rocked himself to and fro in a musing
way on the rather sharp point of a large rock, on which he had seated
himself in order to hear what his companions had to say that was so
important.
"Will you come down with me to Bob Atwood's, an' see what he says about
it?"
"Yes, I'll do that if you'll come out afterwards for a game of I-spy
'round the meetin'-house."
"All right; if we can find enough of the other fellers, I will."
Then the boys slipped down from the rocks, found the cows, and drove
them home as the preface to their visit to Bob Atwood's.
The boy who was so anxious to start a circus was a little fellow with
such a wonderful amount of remarkably red hair that he was seldom called
anything but Reddy, although his name was known--by his parents, at
least--to be Walter Grant. His companion was Toby Tyler, a boy who, a
year before, had thought it would be a very pleasant thing to run away
from his Uncle Daniel and the town of Guilford in order to be with a
circus, and who, in ten weeks, was only too glad to run back home as
rapidly as possible.
During the first few months of his return, very many brilliant offers
had been made Toby by his companions to induce him to aid them in
starting an amateur circus; but he had refused to have anything to do
with the schemes, and for several reasons. During the ten weeks he had
been away, he had seen quite as much of a circus life as he cared to
see, without even such a mild dose as would be this amateur show; and,
again, whenever he thought of the matter, the remembrance of the death
of his monkey, Mr. Stubbs, would come upon him so vividly, and cause him
so much sorrow, that he resolutely put the matter from his mind.
Now, however, it had been a year since the monkey was killed; school had
closed during the summer season; and he was rather more disposed to
listen to the requests of his friends.
On this particular night, Reddy Grant had offered to go with him for the
cows--an act of generosity which Toby accounted for only on the theory
that Reddy wanted some of the strawberries which grew so plentifully in
Uncle Daniel's pasture. But when they arrived there the strawberries
were neglected for the circus question, and Toby then showed he was at
least willing to talk about it.
There was no doubt that Bob Atwood knew Reddy was going to try to induce
Toby to help start a circus, and Bob knew, also, that Reddy and Toby
would visit him, although he appeared very much surprised when he saw
them coming up the hill towards his house. He was at home, evidently
waiting for something, at an hour when all the other boys were out
playing; and that, in itself, would have made Toby suspicious if he had
paid much attention to the matter.
Bob was perfectly willing to talk about a circus--so willing that,
almost before Toby was aware of it, he was laying plans with the others
for such a show as could be given with the material at hand.
"You see we'd have to get a tent the first thing," said Toby, as he
seated himself on the saw-horse as a sort of place of honor, and
proceeded to give his companions the benefit of his experience in the
circus line. "I s'pose we could get along without a fat woman, or a
skeleton; but we'd have to have the tent anyway, so's folks couldn't
look right in an' see the show for nothin'."
Reddy had decided some time before how that trifling matter could be
arranged; and, as he went industriously to work making shavings out of a
portion of a shingle, he said:
"I've got all that settled, Toby; an' when you say you're willin' to go
ahead an' fix up the show, I'll be on hand with a tent that'll make your
eyes stick out over a foot."
Bob nodded his head to show he was convinced Reddy could do just as he
had promised; but Toby was anxious for more particulars, and insisted
on knowing where this very necessary portion of a circus was coming
from.
"You see a tent is a big thing," he said seriously; "an' it would cost
more money than the fellers in this town could raise if they should pick
all the strawberries in Uncle Dan'l's pasture."
"Oh, I don't say as the tent Reddy's got his eye on is a reg'lar one
like a real circus has," said Bob slowly and candidly, as he began to
draw on the side of the wood-shed a picture of what he probably intended
should represent a horse; "but he knows how he can rig one up that'll be
big enough, an' look stavin'."
With this information Toby was obliged to be satisfied; and with the
view of learning more of the details, in case his companions had
arranged for them, he asked:
"Where you goin' to get the company--the folks that ride, an' turn
hand-springs, an' all them things?"
"Ben Cushing can turn twice as many hand-springs as any feller you ever
saw, an' he can walk on his hands twice round the engine-house. I guess
you couldn't find many circuses that could beat him, an' he's been
practising in his barn all the chance he could get for more'n a week."
Without intending to do so, Bob had thus let the secret out that the
scheme had already been talked up before Toby was consulted, and then
there was no longer any reason for concealment.
"You see we thought we'd kinder get things fixed," said Reddy quickly,
anxious to explain away the seeming deception he had been guilty of,
"an' we wouldn't say anything to you till we knew whether we could get
one up or not."
"An' we're goin' to ask three cents to come in; an' lots of the fellers
have promised to buy tickets if we'll let 'em do some of the ridin', or
else lead the hosses."
"But how are you goin' to get any hosses?" asked Toby, thoroughly
surprised at the way in which the scheme had already been developed.
"Reddy can get Jack Douglass's blind one, an' we can train him so's
he'll go 'round the ring all right; an' your Uncle Dan'l will let you
have his old white one that's lame, if you ask him. I ain't sure but I
can get one of Chandler Merrill's ponies," continued Bob, now so excited
by his subject that he left his picture while it was yet a three-legged
horse, and stood in front of his friends; "an' if we could sell tickets
enough, we could hire one of Rube Rowe's hosses for you to ride."
"An' Bob's goin' to be the clown, an' his mother's goin' to make him a
suit of clothes out of one of his grandmother's curtains," added Reddy,
as he snapped an imaginary whip with so many unnecessary flourishes that
he tumbled over the saw-horse, thereby mixing a large quantity of
sawdust in his brilliantly hair.
"An' Reddy's goin' to be ring-master," explained Bob, as he assisted
his friend to rise, and acted the part of Good Samaritan by trying to
get the sawdust from his hair with a curry-comb. "Joe Robinson says
he'll sell tickets, an' 'tend the door, an' hold the hoops for you to
jump through."
"Leander Leighton's goin' to be the band. He's got a pair of clappers;
an' Mrs. Doak's goin' to show him how to play on the accordion with one
finger, so's he'll know how to make an awful lot of noise," said Reddy,
as he gave up the task of extracting the sawdust, and devoted his entire
attention to the scheme.
"An' we can have some animals," said Bob, with the air of one who adds
the crowning glory to some brilliant work.
Toby had been surprised at the resources of the town for a circus, of
which he had not even dreamed; and at Bob's last remark he left his
saw-horse seat as if to enable him to hear more distinctly.
"Yes," continued Bob, "we can get a good many of some kinds. Old Mrs.
Simpson has got a three-legged cat with four kittens, an' Ben Cushing
has got a hen that crows; an' we can take my calf for a grizzly bear,
an' Jack Havener's two lambs for white bears. I've caught six mice, an'
I'll have more'n a dozen before the show comes off; an' Reddy's goin' to
bring his cat that ain't got any tail. Leander Leighton's goin' to bring
four of his rabbits an' make believe they're wolves; an' Joe Robinson's
goin' to catch all the squirrels he can--we'll have the largest for
foxes, an' the smallest for hyenas; an' Joe'll keep howlin' while he's
tendin' the door, so's to make 'em sound right."
"Bob's sister's goin' to show him how to sing a couple of songs, an'
he's goin' to write 'em out on paper so's to have a book to sell," added
Reddy, delighted at the surprise expressed in Toby's face. "Nahum Baker
says if we have any kind of a show he'll bring up some lemonade an' some
pies to sell, an' pass 'em 'round jest as they do in a reg'lar circus."
This last information was indeed surprising, for, inasmuch as Nahum
Baker was a man who had an apology for a fruit-store near the wharves,
it lent an air of realism to the plan, this having a grown man connected
with them in the enterprise.
"But he mustn't get any of the boys to help him, an' then treat them as
Job Lord did me," said Toby earnestly, the scheme having grown so in the
half-hour that he began to fear it might be too much like the circus
with which he had spent ten of the longest and most dreary weeks he had
ever known.
"I'll look out for that," said Bob confidently, "If he tries any of them
games we'll make him leave, no matter how good a trade he's doin'."
"Now, where we goin' to have the show?" and from the way Toby asked the
question it was easily seen that he had decided to accept the position
of manager which had been so delicately offered him.
"That's jest what we ain't fixed about," said Bob, as if he blamed
himself severely for not having already attended to this portion of the
business. "You see, if your Uncle Dan'l would let us have it up by his
barn that would be jest the place, an' I almost know he'd say yes if you
asked him."
"Do you s'pose it would be big enough? You know when there's a circus in
town everybody comes from all around to see it, an' it wouldn't do to
have a place where they couldn't all get in," and Toby spoke as if there
could be no doubt as to the crowds that would collect to see this
wonderful show of theirs.
"It'll have to be big enough, if we use the tent I'm goin' to get," said
Reddy decidedly; "for you see that won't be so awful large, an' it would
make it look kinder small if we put it where the other circuses put
theirs."
"Well, then, I s'pose we'll have to make that do, an' we can have two
or three shows if there are too many to come in at one time," said Toby
in a satisfied way that matters could be arranged so easily; and then,
with a big sigh, he added, "If only Mr. Stubbs hadn't got killed, what a
show we could have! I never saw him ride; but I know he could have done
better than any one else that ever tried it, if he wanted to, an' if we
had him we could have a reg'lar circus without anybody else."
Then the boys bewailed the untimely fate of Mr. Stubbs, until they saw
that Toby was fast getting into a mood altogether too sad for the proper
transaction of circus business, and Bob proposed that a visit be paid
Ben Cushing, for the purpose of having him give them a private
exhibition of his skill, in order that Toby might see some of the talent
which was to help make their circus a glorious success.
CHAPTER II
THE BLIND HORSE
Reddy had laid his plans so well that all the intending partners were
where they could easily be found on this evening when Toby's consent was
to be won, and Ben Cushing was no exception. On the hard, uneven floor
of his father's barn, with all his clothes discarded save his trousers
and shirt, he was making such heroic efforts in the way of practice,
that while the boys were yet some distance from the building they could
hear the thud of Ben's head or heels as he unexpectedly came in contact
with the floor.
When the three visitors stood at the door and looked in, Ben professed
to be unaware of their presence, and began a series of hand-springs that
might have been wonderful, if he had not miscalculated the distance,
and struck the side of the barn just as he was getting well into the
work.
[Illustration: PLANNING THE CIRCUS]
Then, having lost his opportunity of dazzling them by showing that even
when he was alone he could turn any number of hand-springs simply in the
way of exercise, he suddenly became aware of their presence, and greeted
his friends with the anxiously asked question as to what Toby had
decided to do about entering the circus business.
Bob and Reddy, instead of answering, waited for Toby to speak; it was a
good opportunity to have the important matter settled definitely, and
they listened anxiously for his decision.
"I'm goin' into it," said Toby after a pause, during which it appeared
as if he were trying to make up his mind, "'cause it seems as if you had
it almost done now. You know when I got home last summer I didn't ever
want to hear of a circus or see one, for I'd had about enough of them,
an' then I'd think of poor Mr. Stubbs, an' that would make me feel awful
bad. I didn't think, either, that we could get up such a good show; but
now you fellers have got so much done towards it, I think we'd better go
ahead--though I do wish Mr. Stubbs was alive, an' we had a skeleton an'
a fat woman."
Reddy Grant cheered very loudly as a means of showing how delighted he
was at thus having finally enlisted Toby in the scheme, and Bob, as
proof of the high esteem in which all the projectors of the enterprise
held this famous circus-rider, said:
"Now you know all about circuses, Toby, an' you shall be the chief boss
of this one, an' we'll do just what you say."
Toby almost blushed as this great honor was actually thrust upon him,
and he hardly knew what reply to make, when Ben ceased his acrobatic
exercises, and, with Bobby and Reddy, stood waiting for him to give his
orders.
"I s'pose the first thing to do," he said at length, "is to see if Jack
Douglass is willin' for us to have his hoss, an' then find out what
Uncle Dan'l says about it. If we don't get the hoss, it won't be any use
to say anything to Uncle Dan'l."
Reddy was so anxious to have matters settled at once that he offered to
go up to Mr. Douglass's house then, if the others would wait there for
his return, which proposition was at once accepted.
Mr. Douglass was an old <DW52> man who lived fully half a mile from the
village; but Reddy's eagerness caused quick travelling, and in a
surprisingly short time he was back breathless and happy. The coveted
horse was to be theirs for as long a time as they wanted him, provided
they fed him well, and did not attempt to harness him into a wagon.
The owner of the sightless animal had expressed his doubts as to
whether he would ever make much of a circus-horse, owing to his lack of
sight and his extreme age; but he argued that if, as was very probable,
the animal fell while being ridden, he would hurt his rider quite as
much as himself, and therefore the experiment would not be tried so
often as seriously to injure the steed.
It only remained to consult Uncle Daniel on the matter, and of course
that was to be attended to by Toby. He would have waited until a fitting
opportunity presented itself; but his companions insisted so strongly,
that he went home at once to have the case decided.
Uncle Daniel was seated by the window as usual, looking out over the
distant hills as if he were trying to peer in at the gates of that city
where so many loved ones awaited him, and it was some moments before
Toby could make him understand what it was he was trying to say.
"So ye didn't get circusin' enough last summer?" asked the old
gentleman, when at last he realized what it was the boy was talking
about.
"Oh yes, I did!" replied Toby, quickly; "but you see that was a real
one, an' this of ours is only a little make-believe for three cents. We
want to get you to let us have the lot between the barn an' the road to
put our tent on, an' then lend us old Whitey. We're goin' to have Jack
Douglass's hoss that's blind, an' we've got a three-legged cat, an' one
without any tail, an' lots of things."
"It's a kind of a <DW36>s' circus, eh? Well, Toby boy, you can do as
you want to, an' you shall have old Whitey; but it seems to me you'd
better tie her lame leg on, or she'll shake it off when you get to
makin' her cut up antics."
Then Uncle Daniel returned to his reverie, and the show was thus decided
upon, the projectors going again to view the triangular piece of land
so soon to be decorated with their tents and circus belongings.
Each hour that passed after Toby had decided, with Uncle Daniel's
consent, to go into the circus business made him more eager to carry out
the brilliant plan that had been unfolded by Bob Atwood and Reddy Grant,
until his brain was in a perfect whirl when he went to bed that night.
He was sure he could ride as well as when he was under Mr. Castle's
rather severe training, and he thought over and over again how he would
surprise every one who knew him; but he did not stop to think that there
might be a difference between the horse he had ridden in the circus and
the lame one of Uncle Daniel's, or the blind one belonging to Mr.
Douglass. He had an idea that it all depended upon himself, with very
little reference to the animal, and he was sure he had his lesson
perfectly.
Early as he got up the next morning, his partners in the enterprise
were waiting for him just around the corner of the barn, where he found
them as he went for the cows, and they walked to the pasture with him in
order to discuss the matter.
Ben Cushing was in light-marching and acrobatic costume, worn for the
occasion in order to give a full exhibition of his skill; and Reddy had
been up so long that he had had time to procure Mr. Douglass's wonderful
steed, which he had already led to the pasture so that he could be
experimented upon.
"I thought I'd get him up there," he said to Toby, "so's you could try
him; 'cause if we don't get money enough to hire one of Rube Rowe,
you'll have to ride the blind one or the lame one, an' you'd better find
out which you want. If you try him in the pasture the fellers won't see
you; but if you did it down by your house, every one of 'em would huddle
'round."
Toby thought the general idea was a good one; but he was just a trifle
uncertain as to how the blind horse would get along on such uneven
ground. However, he said nothing, lest his companions should think he
was afraid to make the attempt; and when Ben and Bob proceeded to mark
out a ring, he advised them as to its size.
The most level piece of ground that could be found was selected as the
place for the trial, but several small mounds prevented it from being
all a circus-rider could ask for.
Bob volunteered to lead the horse around the track several times, hoping
he would become so accustomed to it as to be able to go by himself after
a while; and Toby made his preparations by laying his hat on the ground
with a stone on it, so that he should be sure to find it when his
rehearsal was done.
It was a warm job Bob had undertaken, this leading the blind animal
along the ill-defined line that marked the limits of the ring, for the
sun shone brightly, and there were no friendly trees to lend a shelter;
but he paid no attention to his discomfort because of the fact that he
was doing something towards the enterprise which was to bring them in
both honor and money.
The poor old horse was the least interested of the party, and he
stumbled around the circle in an abused sort of way, as if he considered
it a piece of gross injustice to force him on the weary round when the
grass was so plentiful and tender just under his feet.
Ben was busily engaged in lengthening Mr. Douglass's rather weak and
aged bridle with a small piece of rope, and from time to time he
encouraged the ambitious clown in his labor.
"Keep it up, if it is hot!" he shouted; "an' when we get him so's he can
do it alone, he'll be jest as good a circus-hoss as anybody would want,
for we can stuff him with hay an' grass till he's fat," and Ben looked
at the clearly defined ribs in a critical way, as if trying to decide
how much food would be necessary to cover them with flesh.
"Oh, I can keep on as long as the hoss can," said Bob, as he wiped the
perspiration from his face with one hand, and clung firmly to the
forelock of the animal with the other; "but we've been round here as
many as six times already, an' he don't seem to know the way any better
than when we started."
"Oh yes, he does," cried Reddy, who was practising for his duties as
ring-master, anxious that his education should advance as fast as the
horse's did; "he's got so he knows enough to turn out for that second
knoll, though he does stumble a little over the first one."
By this time Ben had the bridle adjusted to suit him, Toby was ready to
make his first attempt at riding since he left the circus, and the more
serious work was begun.
Ben bridled the horse after some difficulty, Reddy drew out from its
hiding-place a whip made by tying a piece of cod-line to an alder
branch, and Toby was about to mount, when Joe Robinson came in sight.
He had been running at full speed, and was nearly breathless; but he
managed to cry out so that he could be understood after considerable
difficulty:
"Hold on! don't go to ridin' till after we get some hoops for you to
jump through."
"I guess I won't try any jumpin' till after I see how he goes," said
Toby as he looked rather doubtfully first at the horse's weak legs, and
then at his sharp back; "besides, we can't use the hoops till he gets
more used to the ring."
Joe threw himself on the ground as if he felt quite as much aggrieved
because he was thus left out of the programme as the horse apparently
did because he was in it, and Bob consoled him by explaining that he
had no reason to feel slighted, since he, who, as the clown, was to be
the life of the entertainment, could take no other part in these
preparatory steps than to lead a blind horse around a still blinder
ring.
"Hold him while I get on," said Toby as he clutched the mane and a
portion of the prominent backbone, drawing himself up at some risk of
upsetting the rather shaky steed.
But there was no necessity of his giving this order, for, although four
boys sprang to do his bidding, the weary horse remained as motionless as
a statue, save for his hard breathing which proclaimed the fact that the
"heaves" had long since singled him out as a victim.
Toby succeeded in getting on the animal's back after some exertion; but
he found standing there an entirely different matter from standing on
the broad saddles that were used in the circus, and the | 1,765.375044 |
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WORK
[TRAVAIL]
BY
ÉMILE ZOLA
TRANSLATED BY
ERNEST ALFRED VIZETELLY
LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS
1901
PREFACE
'Work' is the second book of the new series which M. Zola began with
'Fruitfulness,' and which he hopes to complete with 'Truth' and
'Justice.' I should much have liked to discuss here in some detail
several of the matters which M. Zola brings forward in this instalment
of his literary testament, but unfortunately the latter part of the
present translation has been made by me in the midst of great bodily
suffering, and I have not now the strength to do as I desired. I will
only say, therefore, that 'Work' embraces many features. It is, first,
an exposition of M. Zola's gospel of work, as the duty of every man
born into the world and the sovereign cure for many ills--a gospel
which he has set forth more than once in the course of his numerous
writings, and which will be found synthetised, so to say, in a paper
called 'Life and Labour' translated by me for the 'New Review' some
years ago.[1] Secondly, 'Work' deals with the present-day conditions
of society so far as those conditions are affected by Capital and
Labour. And, thirdly and particularly, it embraces a scheme of social
reorganisation and regeneration in which the ideas of Charles Fourier,
the eminent philosopher, are taken as a basis and broadened and adapted
to the needs of a new century. Some may regard this scheme as being
merely the splendid dream of a poet (the book certainly abounds
in symbolism), but all must admit that it is a scheme of _pacific_
evolution, and therefore one to be preferred to the violent remedies
proposed by most Socialist schools.
In this respect the book has a peculiar significance. Though the
English press pays very little attention to the matter, things are
moving apace in France. The quiet of that country is only surface-deep.
The Socialist schools are each day making more and more progress.
The very peasants are fast becoming Socialists, and, as I wrote
comparatively recently in my preface to the new English version of M.
Zola's 'Germinal,' the most serious troubles may almost at any moment
convulse the Republic. Thus it is well that M. Zola, who has always
been a fervent partisan of peace and human brotherliness, should be
found at such a juncture pointing out pacific courses to those who
believe that a bath of blood must necessarily precede all social
regeneration.
Incidentally, in the course of his statements and arguments, M. Zola
brings forward some very interesting points. I would particularly refer
the reader to what he writes on the subject of education. Again, his
sketch of the unhappy French peasant of nowadays may be scanned with
advantage by those who foolishly believe that peasant to be one of the
most contented beings in the world. The contrary is unhappily the case,
the subdivision of the soil having reached such a point that the land
cannot be properly or profitably cultivated. After lasting a hundred
years, the order of things established in the French provinces by the
Great Revolution has utterly broken down. The economic conditions of
the world have changed, and the only hope for French agriculture rests
in farming on a huge scale. This the peasant, amidst his hard struggle
with pauperism, is now realising, and this it is which is fast making
him a Socialist.
All that M. Zola writes in 'Work' on the subject of iron and steel
factories, and the progressive changes in processes and so forth,
will doubtless be read with interest at the present time, when
so much is being said and written about a certain large American
'trust.' The reliance which he places in Science--the great pacific
revolutionary--to effect the most advantageous changes in present-day
conditions of labour, is assuredly justified by facts. Personally, I
rely far more on science than on any innate spirit of brotherliness
between men, to bring about comparative happiness for the human race.
In conclusion, I may point out that the tendency of M. Zola's book in
one respect is shown by the title chosen for the present translation.
The original is | 1,765.476901 |
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State of the Union Addresses of Grover Cleveland
The addresses are separated by three asterisks: ***
Dates of addresses by Grover Cleveland in this eBook:
December 8, 1885
December 6, 1886
December 6, 1887
December 3, 1888
December 4, 1893
December 3, 1894
December 2, 1895
December 7, 1896
***
State of the Union Address
Grover Cleveland
December 8, 1885
To the Congress of the United States:
Your assembling is clouded by a sense of public bereavement, caused by the
recent and sudden death of Thomas A. Hendricks, Vice-President of the
United States. His distinguished public services, his complete integrity
and devotion to every duty, and his personal virtues will find honorable
record in his country's history.
Ample and repeated proofs of the esteem and confidence in which he was held
by his fellow-countrymen were manifested by his election to offices of the
most important trust and highest dignity; and at length, full of years and
honors, he has been laid at rest amid universal sorrow and benediction.
The Constitution, which requires those chosen to legislate for the people
to annually meet in the discharge of their solemn trust, also requires the
President to give to Congress information of the | 1,765.479931 |
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[Illustration: Darrin's Blow Knocked the Midshipman Down]
DAVE DARRIN'S SECOND YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS
or
Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy "Youngsters"
By
H. IRVING HANCOCK Illustrated
MCMXI
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. A QUESTION OF MIDSHIPMAN HONOR
II. DAVE'S PAP-SHEET ADVICE
III. MIDSHIPMAN PENNINGTON GOES TOO FAR
IV. A LITTLE MEETING ASHORE
V. WHEN THE SECONDS WONDERED
VI. IN TROUBLE ON FOREIGN SOIL
VII. PENNINGTON GETS HIS WISH
VIII. THE TRAGEDY OF THE GALE
IX. THE DESPAIR OF THE "RECALL"
X. THE GRIM WATCH FROM THE WAVES
XI. MIDSHIPMAN PENNINGTON'S ACCIDENT
XII. BACK IN THE HOME TOWN
XIII. DAN RECEIVES A FEARFUL FACER
XIV. THE FIRST HOP WITH THE HOME GIRLS
XV. A DISAGREEABLE FIRST CLASSMAN
XVI. HOW DAN FACED THE BOARD
XVII. LOSING THE TIME-KEEPER'S COUNT
XVIII. FIGHTING THE FAMOUS DOUBLE BATTLE
XIX. THE OFFICER IN CHARGE IS SHOCKED
XX. CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
A QUESTION OF MIDSHIPMAN HONOR
"How can a midshipman and gentleman act in that way?"
The voice of Midshipman David Darrin, United States Navy, vibrated
uneasily as he turned to his comrades.
"It's a shame--that's what it is," quivered Mr. Farley, also of the
third class at the United States Naval Academy.
"But the question is," propounded Midshipman Dan Dalzell, "what are we
going to do about it?"
"Is it any part of our business to bother with the fellow?" demanded
Farley half savagely.
Now Farley was rather hot-tempered, though he was "all there" in points
that involved the honor of the brigade of midshipmen.
Five midshipmen stood in the squalid, ill-odored back room of a Chinese
laundry in the town of Annapolis.
There was a sixth midshipman present in the handsome blue uniform of the
brigade; and it was upon this sixth one that the anger and disgust of
the other five had centered.
He lay in a sleep too deep for stirring. On the still, foul air floated
fumes that were new to those of his comrades who now gazed down on him.
"To think that one of our class could make such a beast of himself!"
sighed Dave Darrin.
"And on the morning of the very day we're to ship for the summer
cruise," uttered Farley angrily.
"Oh, well" growled Hallam, "why not let this animal of lower grade sleep
just where he is? Let him take what he has fairly brought upon himself!"
"That's the very question that is agitating me," declared Dave Darrin,
to whom these other members of the third class looked as a leader when
there was a point involving class honor.
Dave had became a leader through suffering.
Readers of the preceding volume in this series, "DAVE DARRIN'S FIRST
YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS," will need no introduction to this fine specimen of
spirited and honorable young American.
Readers of that preceding volume will recall how Dave Darrin and Dan
Dalzell entered the United States Naval Academy, one appointed by a
Congressman and the other by a United States Senator. Such readers will
remember the difficult time that Dave and Dan had in getting through the
work of the first hard, grinding year. They will also recall how Dave
Darrin, when accused of treachery to his classmates, patiently bided his
time until he, with the aid of some close friends, was able to
demonstrate his innocence. Our readers will also remember how two
evil-minded members of the then fourth class plotted to increase Damn's
disgrace and to drive him out of the brigade; also how these two
plotters, Midshipmen Henkel and Brimmer, were caught in their plotting
and were themselves forced out of the brigade. Our readers know that
before the end of the first year at the Naval Academy, Dave had fully
reinstated himself in the esteem of his manly classmates, and how he
quickly became the most popular and respected member of his class.
It was now only the day after the events whose narration closed the
preceding volume.
Dave Darrin and Dalzell were first of all brought to notice in "THE HIGH
SCHOOL BOYS' SERIES." In their High School days, back in Gridley, these
two had been famous members of Dick & Co., a sextette of youngsters who
had made a name for themselves in school athletics.
Dick Prescott and Greg Holmes, two other members of the sextette, had
been appointed to the United States Military Academy at West Point,
where they were serving in the corps of cadets and learning how to
become Army officers in the not far distant future. All of the
adventures of Dick and Greg are set forth in "THE WEST POINT SERIES."
The two remaining members of famous old Dick & Co., Tom Reade and Harry
Hazelton, became civil engineers, and went West for their first taste of
engineering work. Tom and Harry had some wonderful and startling
adventures, as fully | 1,765.573253 |
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[Illustration: SMOKING THE PIPE OF PEACE.]
TENTING ON THE PLAINS
OR
GENERAL CUSTER IN KANSAS AND TEXAS
BY
ELIZABETH B. CUSTER
AUTHOR OF "FOLLOWING THE GUIDON"
"BOOTS AND SADDLES" ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1895
OTHER WORKS BY MRS. CUSTER.
"BOOTS AND SADDLES"; or, Life in Dakota with General
Custer. Portrait and Map.
FOLLOWING THE GUIDON. Illustrated.
_Post 8vo, Cloth, $1 50 each._
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.
[Illustration: Pointing hand]_Either of the above works will be sent by
mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, Canada, or
Mexico, on receipt of the price._
Copyright, 1887, by CHARLES L. WEBSTER & CO.
_All rights reserved._
TO HIM
WHOSE BRAVE AND BLITHE ENDURANCE
MADE THOSE WHO FOLLOWED
HIM FORGET,
IN HIS SUNSHINY PRESENCE,
HALF THE HARDSHIP AND THE DANGER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
GOOD-BY TO THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC 17
CHAPTER II
NEW ORLEANS AFTER THE WAR 41
CHAPTER III
A MILITARY EXECUTION 59
CHAPTER IV
MARCHES THROUGH PINE FORESTS 83
CHAPTER V
OUT OF THE WILDERNESS 95
CHAPTER VI
A TEXAS NORTHER 113
CHAPTER VII
LIFE IN A TEXAS TOWN 132
CHAPTER VIII
LETTERS HOME 150
CHAPTER IX
DISTURBED CONDITION OF TEXAS 165
CHAPTER X
GENERAL CUSTER PARTS WITH HIS STAFF AT CAIRO AND DETROIT 185
CHAPTER XI
ORDERS TO REPORT AT FORT RILEY, KANSAS 205
CHAPTER XII
WESTWARD HO!--FIGHTING DISSIPATION IN THE SEVENTH
CAVALRY--GENERAL CUSTER'S TEMPTATIONS 222
CHAPTER XIII
A MEDLEY OF OFFICERS AND MEN 256
CHAPTER XIV
THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE 279
CHAPTER XV
A PRAIRIE FIRE 310
CHAPTER XVI
SACRIFICES AND SELF-DENIAL OF PIONEER DUTY--CAPTAIN
ROBBINS AND COLONEL COOK ATTACKED, AND FIGHT
FOR THREE HOURS 327
CHAPTER XVII
A FLOOD AT FORT HAYS 356
CHAPTER XVIII
ORDERED BACK TO FORT HARKER 373
CHAPTER XIX
THE FIRST FIGHT OF THE SEVENTH CAVALRY 387
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Smoking the Pipe of Peace FRONTISPIECE
Texas in 1866 and in 1886 19
Eliza Cooking Under Fire 28
A Mule Lunching from a Pillow 78
General Custer as a Cadet 87
"O Golly! what am dat?" 108
Measuring an Alligator 125
General Custer at the Close of the War--Aged 25 168
"Stand there | 1,765.577378 |
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MRS. LESLIE'S BOOKS FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.
THE LITTLE FRANKIE SERIES.
BOOKS WRITTEN OR EDITED
By A. R. BAKER,
AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.
QUESTION BOOKS on the Topics of Christ's Sermon on the Mount.
VOL. I. FOR CHILDREN.
" II. FOR YOUTH.
" | 1,765.673361 |
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" in bold are surrounded by =equals=.
" in bold Gothic font are surrounded by ==double equals==.
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[Illustration]
CHILD LIFE IN PROSE.
EDITED BY
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
==Illustrated.==
[Illustration]
BOSTON:
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY.
==The Riverside Press, Cambridge.==
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873,
BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington,
TWENTY THIRD IMPRESSION.
[Illustration]
"We behold a child. Who is it? Whose is it? What is it? It is in the
centre of fantastic light, and only a dim revealed form appears. It is
God's own child, as all children are. The blood of Adam and Eve,
through how many soever channels diverging, runs in its veins; and the
spirit of the Eternal, which blows everywhere, has animated it. It
opens its eyes upon us, stretches out its hands to us as all children
do. Can you love it? It may be heir of a throne,--does it interest
you? Or of a milking-stool,--do not despise it. It is a miracle of the
All-working; it is endowed by the All-gifted. Smile upon it, it will a
smile give back again; prick it, it will cry. Where does it belong? In
what zone or climate? It may have been born on the Thames or the
Amazon, the Hoang-ho or the Mississippi. It is God's child still, and
its mother's. It is curiously and wonderfully made. The inspiration of
the Almighty hath given it understanding. It will look after God by
how many soever names he may be called; it will seek to know; it will
long to be loved; it will sin and be miserable; if it has none to care
for it, it will die."
JUDD'S _Margaret_.
PREFACE.
The unexpectedly favorable reception of the poetical compilation
entitled "Child Life" has induced its publishers to call for the
preparation of a companion volume of prose stories and sketches,
gathered, like the former, from the literature of widely separated
nationalities and periods. Illness, preoccupation, and the inertia of
unelastic years would have deterred me from the undertaking, but for
the assistance which I have had from the lady whose services are
acknowledged in the preface to "Child Life." I beg my young readers,
therefore, to understand that I claim little credit for my share in
the work, since whatever merit it may have is largely due to her taste
and judgment. It may be well to admit, in the outset, that the book is
as much for child-lovers, who have not outgrown their child-heartedness
in becoming mere men and women, as for children themselves; that it is
as much _about_ childhood, as _for_ it. If not the wisest, it appears to
me that the happiest people in the world are those who still retain
something of the child's creative faculty of imagination, which makes
atmosphere and color, sun and shadow, and boundless horizons, out of
what seems to prosaic wisdom most inadequate material,--a tuft of grass,
a mossy rock, the rain-pools of a passing shower, a glimpse of sky and
cloud, a waft of west-wind, a bird's flutter and song. For the child is
always something of a poet; if he cannot analyze, like Wordsworth and
Tennyson, the emotions which expand his being, even as the fulness of
life bursts open the petals of a flower, he finds with them all Nature
plastic to his eye and hand. The soul of genius and the heart of
childhood are one.
Not irreverently has Jean Paul said, "I love God and little children.
Ye stand nearest to Him, ye little ones." From the Infinite Heart a
sacred Presence has gone forth and filled the earth with the sweetness
of immortal infancy. Not once in history alone, but every day and
always, Christ sets the little child in the midst of us as the truest
reminder of himself, teaching us the secret of happiness, and leading
us into the kingdom by the way of humility and tenderness.
In truth, all the sympathies of our nature combine to render childhood
an object of powerful interest. Its beauty, innocence, dependence, and
possibilities of destiny, strongly appeal to our sensibilities, not
only in real life, but in fiction and poetry. How sweetly, amidst the
questionable personages who give small occasion of respect for manhood
or womanhood as they waltz and wander through the story of Wilhelm
Meister, rises the child-figure of Mignon! How we turn from the light
dames and faithless cavaliers of Boccaccio to contemplate his
exquisite picture of the little Florentine, Beatrice, that fair girl
of eight summers, so "pretty in her childish ways, so ladylike and
pleasing, with her delicate features and fair proportions, of such
dignity and charm of manner as to be looked upon as a little angel!"
And of all the creations of her illustrious lover's genius, whether in
the world of mortals or in the uninviting splendors of his Paradise,
what is there so beautiful as the glimpse we have of him in his _Vita
Nuova_, a boy of nine years, amidst the bloom and greenness of the
Spring Festival of Florence, checking his noisy merry-making in rapt
admiration of the little Beatrice, who seemed to him "not the daughter
of mortal man, but of God"? Who does not thank John Brown, of
Edinburgh, for the story of Marjorie Fleming, the fascinating
child-woman, laughing beneath the plaid of Walter Scott, and gathering
at her feet the wit and genius of Scotland? The labored essays from
which St. Pierre hoped for immortality, his philosophies,
sentimentalisms, and theories of tides, have all quietly passed into
the limbo of unreadable things; while a simple story of childhood
keeps his memory green as the tropic island in which the scene is
laid, and his lovely creations remain to walk hand in hand beneath the
palms of Mauritius so long as children shall be born and the hearts
of youths and maidens cleave to each other. If the after story of the
poet-king and warrior of Israel sometimes saddens and pains us, who
does not love to think of him as a shepherd boy, "ruddy and withal of
a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look upon," singing to his
flocks on the hill-<DW72>s of Bethlehem?
In the compilation of this volume the chief embarrassment has arisen
from the very richness and abundance of materials. As a matter of
course, the limitations prescribed by its publishers have compelled
the omission of much that, in point of merit, may compare favorably
with the selections. Dickens's great family of ideal children, Little
Nell, Tiny Tim, and the Marchioness; Harriet Beecher Stowe's Eva and
Topsy; George MacDonald's quaint and charming child-dreamers; and
last, but not least, John Brown's Pet Marjorie,--are only a few of the
pictures for which no place has been found. The book, of necessity,
but imperfectly reflects that child-world which fortunately is always
about us, more beautiful in its living realities than it has ever been
painted.
It has been my wish to make a readable book of such literary merit as
not to offend the cultivated taste of parents, while it amused their
children. I may confess in this connection, that, while aiming at
simple and not unhealthful amusement, I have been glad to find the
light tissue of these selections occasionally shot through with
threads of pious or moral suggestion. At the same time, I have not
felt it right to sadden my child-readers with gloomy narratives and
painful reflections upon the life before them. The lessons taught are
those of Love, rather than Fear. "I can bear," said Richter, "to look
upon a melancholy man, but I cannot look upon a melancholy child.
Fancy a butterfly crawling like a caterpillar with his four wings
pulled off!"
It is possible that the language and thought of some portions of the
book may be considered beyond the comprehension of the class for which
it is intended. Admitting that there may be truth in the objection, I
believe with Coventry Patmore, in his preface to a child's book, that
the charm of such a volume is increased, rather than lessened, by the
surmised existence of an unknown amount of power, meaning, and beauty.
I well remember how, at a very early age, the solemn organ-roll of
Gray's Elegy and the lyric sweep and pathos of Cowper's Lament for the
Royal George moved and fascinated me with a sense of mystery and power
felt, rather than understood. "A spirit passed before my face, but the
form thereof was not discerned." Freighted with unguessed meanings,
these poems spake to me, in an unknown tongue indeed, but, like the
wind in the pines or the waves on the beach, awakening faint echoes
and responses, and vaguely prophesying of wonders yet to be revealed.
John Woolman tells us, in his autobiography, that, when a small child,
he read from that sacred prose poem, the Book of Revelation, which has
so perplexed critics and commentators, these words, "He showed me a
river of the waters of life clear as crystal, proceeding out of the
throne of God and the Lamb," and that his mind was drawn thereby to
seek after that wonderful purity, and that the place where he sat and
the sweetness of that child-yearning remained still fresh in his
memory in after life. The spirit of that mystical anthem which Milton
speaks of as "a seven-fold chorus of hallelujahs and harping
symphonies," hidden so often from the wise and prudent students of the
letter, was felt, if not comprehended, by the simple heart of the
child.
It will be seen that a considerable portion of the volume is devoted
to autobiographical sketches of infancy and childhood. It seemed to me
that it might be interesting to know how the dim gray dawn and golden
sunrise of life looked to poets and philosophers; and to review with
them the memories upon which the reflected light of their genius has
fallen.
I leave the little collection, not without some misgivings, to the
critical, but I hope not unkindly, regard of its young readers. They
will, I am sure, believe me when I tell them that if my own paternal
claims, like those of Elia, are limited to "dream children," I have
catered for the real ones with cordial sympathy and tender solicitude
for their well-being and happiness.
J. G. W.
AMESBURY, 1873.
CONTENTS.
STORIES OF CHILD LIFE.
PAGE
LITTLE ANNIE'S RAMBLE _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 13
WHY THE COW TURNED HER HEAD AWAY _Abby Morton Diaz_ 22
THE BABY OF THE REGIMENT _ | 1,765.673448 |
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[Illustration]
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK. BOSTON. CHICAGO
ATLANTA. SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON. BOMBAY. CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
[Illustration: 1. LORD MINTO, VICEROY OF INDIA. _Frontispiece_]
TRANS-HIMALAYA
DISCOVERIES AND ADVENTURES IN TIBET
BY
SVEN HEDIN
WITH 388 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, WATER-COLOUR
SKETCHES, AND DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR
AND 10 MAPS
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1909
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1909,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
* * * * *
Set up and electrotyped. Published December, 1909.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
TO
HIS EXCELLENCY
THE EARL OF MINTO
VICEROY OF INDIA
WITH GRATITUDE AND ADMIRATION
FROM THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
In the first place I desire to pay homage to the memory of my patron,
King Oskar of Sweden, by a few words of gratitude. The late King showed
as warm and intelligent an interest in my plan for a new expedition as
he had on former occasions, and assisted in the fulfilment of my project
with much increased liberality.
I estimated the cost of the journey at 80,000 kronor (about L4400), and
this sum was subscribed within a week by my old friend Emmanuel Nobel,
and my patrons, Frederik Loewenadler, Oscar Ekman, Robert Dickson,
William Olsson, and Henry Ruffer, banker in London. I cannot adequately
express my thanks to these gentlemen. In consequence of the political
difficulties I encountered in India, which forced me to make wide
detours, the expenses were increased by about 50,000 kronor (L2800), but
this sum I was able to draw from my own resources.
As on former occasions, I have this time also to thank Dr. Nils Ekholm
for his great kindness in working out the absolute heights. The three
lithographic maps have been compiled from my original sheets with
painstaking care by Lieutenant C. J. Otto Kjellstroem, who devoted all
his furlough to this troublesome work. The astronomical points, nearly
one hundred, have been calculated by the Assistant Roth of the Stockholm
Observatory; a few points, which appeared doubtful, were omitted in
drawing the route on the map, which is based on points previously
determined. The map illustrating my narrative in the _Geographical
Journal_, April 1909, I drew roughly from memory without consulting the
original sheets, for I had no time to spare; the errors which naturally
crept in have been corrected on the new maps, but I wish to state here
the cause of the discrepancy. The final maps, which I hope to publish in
a voluminous scientific work, will be distinguished by still greater
accuracy and detail.
I claim not the slightest artistic merit for my drawings, and my
water-colours are extremely defective both in drawing and colouring. One
of the pictures, the lama opening the door of the mausoleum, I left
unfinished in my haste; it has been thrown in with the others, with the
wall-paintings and shading incomplete. To criticize these slight
attempts as works of art would be like wasting gunpowder on dead crows.
For the sake of variety several illustrations have been drawn by the
British artists De Haenen and T. Macfarlane, but it must not be assumed
that these are fanciful productions. Every one of them is based on
outline drawings by myself, a number of photographs, and a full
description of the scene. De Haenen's illustrations appeared in the
London _Graphic_, and were ordered when I was still in India.
Macfarlane's drawings were executed this summer, and I was able to
inspect his designs and approve of them before they were worked up.
As to the text, I have endeavoured to depict the events of the journey
as far as the limited space permitted, but I have also imprudently
allowed myself to touch on subjects with which I am not at all
familiar--I allude in particular to Lamaism. It has been unfortunate
that I had to write the whole book in 107 days, during which many hours
were taken up with work connected with the maps and illustrations and by
an extensive correspondence with foreign publishers, especially Albert
Brockhaus of Leipzig, who never wearied in giving me excellent advice.
The whole work has been hurried, and the book from beginning to end is
like a vessel which ventures out into the ocean of the world's tumult
and of criticism with many leaks and cracks.
My thanks are also due to my father, who made a clean copy from my
illegible manuscript; and to my mother, who has saved me from many
mistakes. Dr. Carl Forstrand has revised both the manuscript and the
proof-sheets, and has compiled the Swedish index.
* * * * *
The seven and thirty Asiatics who followed me faithfully through Tibet,
and contributed in no small degree to the successful issue and results
of the expedition, have had the honour of receiving from His Majesty the
King of Sweden gold and silver medals bearing the portrait of the King,
a crown, and an inscription. I humbly beg His Majesty to accept my
warmest and most sincere thanks for his great generosity.
The book is dedicated to Lord Minto, as a slight testimony of my
gratitude for all his kindness and hospitality. It had been Lord Minto's
intention to further my plans as Lord Curzon would have done if he had
still been Viceroy of India, but political considerations prevented him.
When, however, I was actually in Tibet, the Viceroy was free to use his
influence with the Tashi Lama, and the consequence was that many doors
in the forbidden land, formerly tightly closed, were opened to me.
Dear reminiscences of India hovered about my lonesome years in dreary
Tibet like the pleasant rustling of palm leaves. It will suffice to
mention men like Lord Kitchener, in whose house I spent a week never to
be forgotten; Colonel Dunlop Smith, who took charge of my notes and
maps and sent them home, and also forwarded a whole caravan of
necessaries to Gartok; Younghusband, Patterson, Ryder, Rawling, and many
others. And, lastly, Colonel Longe, Surveyor-General, and Colonel
Burrard, of the Survey of India, who, with the greatest kindness, had my
900 map-sheets of Tibet photographed, and stored the negatives among
their records in case the originals should be lost, and who, after I had
placed my 200 map-sheets of Persia at the disposal of the Indian
Government, had them worked up in the North-Western Frontier Drawing
Office and combined into a fine map of eleven printed sheets--a map
which is to be treated as "confidential" until my scientific works have
appeared.
It is with the greatest pleasure that I avail myself of this opportunity
of expressing my sincere gratitude for all the innumerable tokens of
sympathy and appreciation which I received in all parts of the United
Kingdom, and for all the honours conferred on me by Societies, and the
warm welcome I met with from the audiences I had the pleasure of
addressing. I shall always cherish a proud and happy remembrance of the
two months which it was my good-fortune to spend in the British Isles;
and the kindness then showered upon me was the more delightful because
it was extended also to two of my sisters, who accompanied me.
Were I to mention all the ladies and gentlemen to whom I am especially
indebted, I could fill several pages. But I cannot let this book go
forth through the English-speaking world without expressing my sincere
gratitude to Lord Curzon for the great and encouraging interest he has
always taken in myself and my journeys; to Lord Morley for the brilliant
speech he delivered after my first lecture--the most graceful compliment
ever paid me, as well as for many other marks of kindness and sympathy
shown to me by the Secretary of State for India; to the Swedish
Minister in London, Count Herman Wrangel, for all the valuable services
he rendered me during and after my journey; to Major Leonard Darwin and
the Council and Members of the Royal Geographical Society, to whom I was
delighted to return, not as a strange guest, but as an old friend; to
the famous and illustrious Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, where I
was overwhelmed with exceptional honours and boundless hospitality; to
the Royal Scottish Geographical Society, where twice before I had
received a warm reception. Well, when I think of those charming days in
England and Scotland I am inclined to dwell too long upon them, and I
must hasten to a conclusion. But there is one more name, which I have
left to the last, because it has been very dear to me for many years,
that of Dr. J. Scott Keltie. The general public will never know what it
means to be the Secretary and mainspring of the Royal Geographical
Society, to work year after year in that important office in Savile Row,
to receive explorers from all corners of the world and satisfy all their
demands, without ever losing patience or ever hearing a word of thanks.
I can conceive from my own experience how much trouble I have caused Dr.
Keltie, but yet he has always met me with the same amiability and has
always been a constant friend, whether I have been at home or away for
years on long journeys.
Dr. M. A. Stein started and returned from his splendid journey in
Central Asia at the same times as myself. We crossed different parts of
the old continent, but we have several interests in common, and I am
glad to congratulate Dr. Stein most heartily on his important
discoveries and the brilliant results he has brought back.
It is my intention to collect in a third volume all the material for
which there is no room in _Trans-Himalaya_. For instance, I have been
obliged to omit a description of the march northwards from the source
of the Indus and of the journey over the Trans-Himalaya to Gartok, as
well as of the road from Gartok to Ladak, and the very interesting route
from the Nganglaring-tso to Simla. I have also had to postpone the
description of several monasteries to a later opportunity. In this
future book I will also record my recollections of beautiful, charming
Japan, where I gained so many friends, and of Korea, Manchuria, and Port
Arthur. The manuscript of this later volume is already finished, and I
long for the opportunity of publicly thanking the Japanese, as well as
our representative in Japan and China, the Minister Extraordinary,
Wallenberg, for all the delightful hospitality and all the honours
showered down on me in the Land of the Rising Sun.
Lastly, the appetite of young people for adventures will be satisfied in
an especial work.
I am glad to be able to announce at the eleventh hour that the Madrassi
Manuel, who in Chapter IX. was reported lost, has at length been found
again.
In conclusion, I must say a few words of thanks to my publishers, and
first of all to Herre K. O. Bonnier of Stockholm, for his valuable
co-operation and the elegant form in which he has produced my book, and
then to the firm of F. A. Brockhaus, Leipzig; the "Elsevier" Uitgevers
Maatschappij, Amsterdam; Hachette & C^ie, Paris; "Kansa," Suomalainen
Kustannus-O-Y, Helsingfors; the Robert Lampel Buchhandlung (F. Wodianer
& Soehne) Act.-Ges., Budapest; Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London and New
York; J. Otto, Prague; Fratelli Treves, Milan.
SVEN HEDIN.
STOCKHOLM, _September_, 1909.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
SIMLA 1
CHAPTER II
DEPARTURE FROM SRINAGAR 21
CHAPTER III
THE ROAD TO LEH 35
CHAPTER IV
THE LAST PREPARATIONS 46
CHAPTER V
THE START FOR TIBET 60
CHAPTER VI
TO THE EDGE OF THE TIBETAN TABLELAND 72
CHAPTER VII
OVER THE CREST OF THE KARAKORUM 84
CHAPTER VIII
TO LAKE LIGHTEN 97
CHAPTER IX
ON THE LAKE IN A STORM 106
CHAPTER X
DEATH IN THE JAWS OF WOLVES--OR SHIPWRECK 119
CHAPTER XI
GREAT LOSSES 132
CHAPTER XII
IN UNKNOWN COUNTRY 146
CHAPTER XIII
UNFORTUNATE DAYS 158
CHAPTER XIV
IN THE LAND OF THE WILD YAK 171
CHAPTER XV
THE FIRST NOMADS 181
CHAPTER XVI
OUR FORTUNES ON THE WAY TO THE BOGTSANG-TSANGPO 196
CHAPTER XVII
CHRISTMAS IN THE WILDS 211
CHAPTER XVIII
TEN DAYS ON THE ICE OF NGANGTSE-TSO 223
CHAPTER XIX
DRIVEN BACK 236
CHAPTER XX
ONWARDS THROUGH THE FORBIDDEN LAND 249
CHAPTER XXI
OVER THE TRANS-HIMALAYA 264
CHAPTER XXII
TO THE BANK OF THE BRAHMAPUTRA 276
CHAPTER XXIII
DOWN THE TSANGPO BY BOAT--ENTRY INTO SHIGATSE 288
CHAPTER XXIV
THE NEW YEAR FESTIVAL 301
CHAPTER XXV
THE TASHI LAMA 317
CHAPTER XXVI
THE GRAVES OF THE PONTIFFS 329
CHAPTER XXVII
POPULAR AMUSEMENTS OF THE TIBETANS 340
CHAPTER XXVIII
MONKS AND PILGRIMS 347
CHAPTER XXIX
WALKS IN TASHI-LUNPO--THE DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD 361
CHAPTER XXX
OUR LIFE IN SHIGATSE 374
CHAPTER XXXI
POLITICAL COMPLICATIONS 388
CHAPTER XXXII
TARTING-GOMPA AND TASHI-GEMBE 402
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE RAGA-TSANGPO AND THE MY-CHU 415
CHAPTER XXXIV
TO LINGA-GOMPA 427
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
1. Lord Minto, Viceroy of India _Frontispiece_
2. Colonel Sir Francis Younghusband, Commander of the English
Expedition to Tibet, Resident in Kashmir 10
3. Colonel J. R. Dunlop Smith, Private Secretary to the Viceroy 10
4. Viceregal Lodge in Simla 12
5. Lady Minto and the Author on the Terrace of the Viceregal
Lodge 14
6. Herbert, Viscount Kitchener of Khartum, Late Commander-in-Chief
of the Indian Army 18
7. The Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir 22
8. Palace of H.H. the Maharaja of Kashmir in Srinagar 26
9. The Jhelam in Srinagar 28
10. The Start from Ganderbal 30
11. My Escort 30
12. My Three Puppies 32
13. Robert, the Eurasian 32
14. Ganpat Sing, the Rajput 32
15. Manuel, the Cook 32
16. In Front of Nedou's Hotel in Srinagar 34
17. Some of our Mules 34
18. An Amateur Photographer photographed 34
19. The Road to Baltal 38
20. Kargil 40
21. Chhorten in Lamayuru 40
22. Church Music in Lamayuru 42
23. Portrait of a Lama 42
24. Portrait of a Lama 42
25. The Sumto Valley 44
26. Bridge of Alchi 44
27. Girl in Niemo 44
28, 29. Palace of the Kings of Ladak in Leh 44
30. Muhamed Isa 46
31. Guffaru 52
32. The Raja of Stok 56
33. Portal of the Palace in Leh 56
34. View over the Indus Valley from the Roof of the Palace in Leh 56
35. Lama of High Rank in Leh 56
36. Monuments to Stoliczka and Dalgleish, Leh 58
37. Religious Objects from Sanskar 60
38. Images of Gods. A miniature Chhorten on the right. Holy
Books, Temple Vessels. On either side of the small
Altar-table wooden blocks with which the Holy Books are
printed 60
39. Tikze-gompa, Monastery in Ladak 62
40. Masked Lamas in the Court of Ceremonies in Hemis-gompa
(Ladak) 64
41. Group of Masked Lamas in Hemis-gompa 64
42. From Singrul, looking towards the Pass, Chang-la 66
43. View from Sultak, August 17, 1906 66
44. Drugub 66
45. My old friend Hiraman from Ladak 70
46. Chiefs of Tankse and Pobrang; Muhamed Isa, the Caravan
Leader, in the Background 70
47. The Way to the Marsimik-la 74
48. Spanglung 74
49. Spanglung 78
50. Camp near Pamzal 78
51. The Chang-chenmo and the Way to Gogra 78
52. Muhamed Isa in the River Chang-chenmo near Pamzal 80
53. Rabsang, Adul, Tsering, and Muhamed Isa 82
54. Our Horses at the Karakorum 82
55. In the Snow, N.E. of Chang-lung-yogma 86
56. My Tent 86
57. Lake Lighten 86
58a, 58b. Pantholops Antelope 90
59, 60. Ovis Ammon 90
61. A Gully at Camp 8 (Aksai-chin) 94
62. The hired Ladakis and the Provision Sacks in North-West
Chang-tang 98
63. Namgyal with a Sack of Yak-dung 98
64. Shelter of Provision Sacks 100
65. Camp in a narrow Valley, Camp 41 100
66. Robert, Muhamed Isa, and two Servants by a Fire 100
67. The large piebald Yarkand Horse 104
68, 69. The Slain Yaks; Tundup Sonam, the Hunter on the left
in 68 104
70. Rehim Ali, one of my Ladakis on the First Crossing of
Tibet 108
71. Starting on a Voyage 110
72. In Peril on Lake Lighten 112
73. The Author and Rehim Ali pull the Boat out of the Waves up
on to the Shore 116
74. Camp at the Yeshil-kul 118
75. The Pul-tso, looking East 118
76. Horses and Mules in open Country 118
77. Death in the Jaws of Wolves--or Shipwreck 122
78. A Dangerous Situation on the Yeshil-kul. In Moonshine 126
79. At Deasy's Camp 132
80. Afternoon Tea in the open Air 132
81. Melting Snow for Drinking-Water 132
82. Preparations for Dinner at Camp 41 152
83. The Author, Robert, and Rehim Ali attacked by a wounded
Yak 170
84. Rehim Ali falls to the Ground and thus rescues us from the
furious Yak 174
85, 86. The First Tibetans 180
87. Smoking Camp-fires in the Heart of Chang-tang 186
88. Our Yaks, bought from the First Tibetans 186
89. "Where are you going?" they asked me 200
90. Near the Dangra-yum-tso 216
91, 92, 93. On the Ngangtse-tso 226
94. In a Snowstorm on the Ice of the Ngangtse-tso 234
95. Hlaje Tsering and his Travelling Companion, a Lama, at my
Tent on the Ngangtse-tso 242
96. Servants of Hlaje Tsering 252
97. Messenger with Letters from Home, and his Travelling
Companion 252
98. Hlaje Tsering setting out 252
99. Three Tibetans saluting 264
100. Pass of La-rock. _Mani_ Heap with Fluttering
Prayer-Streamers 274
101. On the Bank of the Tsangpo (Brahmaputra) 274
102. The Tsangpo with Floating Ice 282
103. The Valley of the Tsangpo above Shigatse 282
104. House in the Village of Rungma 286
105. Garden of the Tashi Lama in the Village of Tanak 286
106. Ferry-Boats 290
107. Pilgrims on the Way to Tashi-lunpo 290
108. Court of Religious Ceremonies in Tashi-lunpo 296
109. Religious Decorations on the Roofs of Tashi-lunpo to
exorcise Evil Spirits 296
110. The Upper Balcony of the Court of Ceremonies in
Tashi-lunpo 300
111, 112. The _Profanum Vulgus_ at the New Year Festival in
Shigatse 304
113. Lama with Shell-Trumpet 306
114. Lama with Flute used in Religious Services 306
115, 116, 117. Lamas in Dancing Masks 308
118. View of Tashi-lunpo 310
119. Street in Tashi-lunpo, with Lamas 312
120. Street in Tashi-lunpo 314
121. The Labrang, the Palace of the Tashi Lama 316
122. Interior of the Palace of the Tashi Lama 322
123. View of a Part of Tashi-lunpo, with the Facade of a
Mausoleum of a Grand Lama 324
124. Facade of the Mausoleum of the First Tashi Lama. The
Court of Ceremonies in the Foreground 326
125, 126. Interiors of two Mausoleums of Grand Lamas in
Tashi-lunpo 328
127. The Kanjur-lhakang in Tashi-lunpo 330
128. Portal of the Mausoleum of the Third Tashi Lama in
Tashi-lunpo 332
129. The Namgyal-lhakang with the Figure of Tsong Kapa, in
Tashi-lunpo _Coloured_ 334
130. Reading Lama with Dorche (Thunderbolt) and Drilbu
(Prayer-Bell) 336
131. Lama with Prayer-Drum 336
132. Entrance to the Tomb of the Fifth Tashi Lama in
Tashi-lunpo _Coloured_ 338
133. Staircase to the Mausoleum of the Fifth Tashi Lama in
Tashi-lunpo 340
134. Shigatse-dzong (the Fortress) 342
135. Shigatse, Capital of the Province of Chang (11,880 feet) 344
136. Chinese New Year Festival in my Garden 346
137. Some of the Members in the Shooting Competition at the New
Year Festival 346
138. Popular Diversion in Shigatse 348
139. Nepalese performing Symbolical Dances at the New Year
Festival 350
140. Dancing Nepalese at the New Year Festival, Tashi-lunpo 352
141. The Kitchen in Tashi-lunpo 354
142. Colonnade in Tashi-lunpo 354
143. Lamas drinking Tea in the Court of Ceremonies in
Tashi-lunpo 358
144. Part of Shigatse 362
145. The Tashi Lama returning to the Labrang after a Ceremony 362
146. The Panchen Rinpoche, or Tashi Lama 366
147. Portrait of the Tashi Lama 370
148. Lamas with Copper Tea-pots 374
149. Female Pilgrim from Nam-tso and Mendicant Lama 374
150. The Great Red Gallery of Tashi-lunpo 376
151. Chhorten in Tashi-lunpo 378
152. Portal in Tashi-lunpo 380
153. Group of Lamas in Tashi-lunpo 380
154. Lecture in Tashi-lunpo 382
155. Female Pilgrims from the Nam-tso 384
156. Tibetans in Shigatse 384
157, 158, 159. Tibetan Girl and Women in Shigatse 386
160. A Chinaman in Shigatse 388
161. A Tibetan in Shigatse 388
162. A Lama in Tashi-lunpo 388
163. Door-keeper in Tsong Kapa's Temple 388
164. Dancing Boys with Drums 390
165. Wandering Nun with a Tanka depicting a Religious Legend
and singing the Explanation. (In our Garden at Shigatse.) 394
166. Gandaen-choeding-gompa, a Nunnery in Ye 394
167. Duke Kung Gushuk, Brother of the Tashi Lama 398
168. The little Brother of the Tashi Lama, the Wife of Kung
Gushuk, and her five Servants 402
169. The little Brother of His Holiness with a Servant 404
170. The Author drawing the Duchess Kung Gushuk 406
171. Major W. F. O'Connor, British Trade Agent in Gyangtse, now
Consul in Seistan 408
172. Captain C. G. Rawling 408
173, 174. Tarting-gompa 410
175. Linga-gompa 410
176. Lung-Ganden-gompa near Tong 410
177. Inscription and Figure of Buddha carved in Granite near
the Village of Lingoe 410
178. Tarting-gompa 412
179. Sego-chummo Lhakang in Tarting-gompa 412
180. Bridge to the Monastery Pinzoling (on the right) 414
181. Group of Tibetans in the Village of Tong 418
182. Inhabitants of the Village of Govo 418
183. Lama in Tong 422
184. Old Tibetan 422
185. Strolling Musicians 424
186. The Handsome Woman, Putoen 426
187. On the My-chu near Linga 430
188. Village and Monastery of Linga 430
MAPS
1. The Latest Map of Tibet.
2. Carte Generale du Thibet ou Bout-tan.
3. Map of Southern Tibet (Hodgson).
4. The Source-Region of the Brahmaputra (Nain Sing).
5. Sketch-Map of Webber's Route in 1866.
6. Saunders' Map of South Tibet.
7. The Source-Region of the Brahmaputra (Ryder).
(_At end of Volume._)
CHAPTER I
SIMLA
In the spring of the year 1905 my mind was much occupied with thoughts
of a new journey to Tibet. Three years had passed since my return to my
own country; my study began to be too small for me; at eventide, when
all around was quiet, I seemed to hear in the sough of the wind a voice
admonishing me to "come back again to the silence of the wilderness";
and when I awoke in the morning I involuntarily listened for caravan
bells outside. So the time passed till my plans were ripened and my fate
was soon decided; I must return to the freedom of the desert and hie
away to the broad plains between the snow-clad mountains of Tibet. Not
to listen to this secret voice when it speaks strongly and clearly means
deterioration and ruin; one must resign oneself to the guidance of this
invisible hand, have faith in its divine origin and in oneself, and
submit to the gnawing pain which another departure from home, for so
long a time and with the future uncertain, brings with it.
In the concluding lines of my scientific work on the results of my
former journey (_Scientific Results_) I spoke of the impossibility of
giving a complete description of the internal structure of Tibet, its
mountains and valleys, its rivers and lakes, while so large a part of
the country was still quite unknown. "Under these circumstances," I said
(vol. iv. p. 608), "I prefer to postpone the completion of such a
monograph till my return from the journey on which I am about to start."
Instead of losing myself in conjectures or arriving at confused results
owing to lack of material, I would rather see with my own eyes the
unknown districts in the midst of northern Tibet, and, above all, visit
the extensive areas of entirely unexplored country which stretches to
the north of the upper Brahmaputra and has not been traversed by
Europeans or Indian pundits. Thus much was _a priori_ certain, that this
region presented the grandest problems which remained still unsolved in
the physical geography of Asia. There must exist one or more mountain
systems running parallel with the Himalayas and the Karakorum range;
there must be found peaks and ridges on which the eye of the explorer
had never lighted; turquoise-blue salt lakes in valleys and hollows
reflect the restless passage of the monsoon clouds north-eastwards, and
from their southern margins voluminous rivers must flow down, sometimes
turbulent, sometimes smooth. There, no doubt, were nomad tribes, who
left their winter pastures in spring, and during | 1,765.676161 |
2023-11-16 18:46:30.0539800 | 1,685 | 19 |
Produced by Linda M. Everhart, Blairstown, Missouri
Wolf and Coyote
Trapping
An Up-to-Date Wolf Hunter's Guide, Giving the
Most Successful Methods of Experienced
"Wolfers" for Hunting and Trapping
These Animals, Also Gives
Their Habits in Detail.
BY
A. R. HARDING
Published by
A. R. HARDING PUB. CO.
COLUMBUS, OHIO
Copyright 1909
By A. R. HARDING PUB. CO.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
I. The Timber Wolf
II. The Coyote
III. Killing of Stock and Game by Wolves
IV. Bounties
V. Hunting Young Wolves and Coyotes
VI. Hunting Wolves with Dogs
VII. Still Hunting Wolves and Coyotes
VIII. Poisoning Wolves
IX. Trapping Wolves
X. Scents and Baits
XI. Scent Methods
XII. Bait Methods for Wolves
XIII. Southern Bait Methods for Coyotes
XIV. Northern Bait Methods for Coyotes
XV. Blind Set Methods
XVI. Snow Set Methods
XVII. Some Rules and Things to Remember
XVIII. The Treacherous Grey Wolf
XIX. Wolf Catching
XX. With the Coyotes
XXI. Wolf Trapping an Art
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Map Showing the Range of the Timber Wolf
Western Grey Wolf in a Trap
Track of the Grey Wolf
Coyote and Badger Killed in Texas
A Trapped Coyote
Track of the Coyote
Wolves Killing a Deer
Remains of Deer Killed by Wolves
Grey Wolf
Diagrams showing Difference in Size of Wolves and Coyotes
A Wyoming Wolf Den
A Near View of the Den
Young Wolves at Entrance of Den
The Hunter's Outfit
An Oklahoma Hunter with Young Coyotes
Catch of a Canadian Hunter
A Still Hunter and His Outfit
Killed by the Still Hunt
Method of Preparing Poison Baits
The Newhouse Wolf Trap
The Two-Pronged Drag
Method of Attaching an Oblong Stone
Method of Attaching a Triangular Stone
Iron Stakes for Traps
Trap Set and Ready for Covering
Wyoming Wolf Trapper
Caught in a Scent Set
Trail Bait Set
The Square Setting
Coyote Caught at a Bank Set
Wolf Water Set
A Trapped Wolf
A Trapped Texas Coyote
A Northern Coyote
An Idaho Coyote
A Trail Set
Traps Set at Badger Den
A Good Catch
A Snow Set
A Large Wisconsin Wolf
Mr. Davis with the Big Wolf Skins
A Texas Specimen
Caught at Last
A Northern Wolf
[Illustration: A. R. Harding.]
INTRODUCTION.
There are certain wild animals which when hard pressed by severe cold
and hunger, will raid the farmers and ranchmen's yards, killing fowls
and stock. There however, are no animals that destroy so much stock
as wolves and coyotes as they largely live upon the property of
farmers, settlers and ranchmen to which they add game as they can get
it.
While these animals are trapped, shot, poisoned, hunted with dogs,
etc., their numbers, in some states, seem to be on the increase
rather than the decrease in face of the fact that heavy bounties are
offered.
The fact that wolf and coyote scalps command a bounty, in many
states, and in addition their pelts are valuable, makes the hunting
and trapping of these animals of no little importance.
One thing that has helped to keep the members of these "howlers" so
numerous is the fact that they are among the shrewdest animal in
America. The day of their extermination is, no doubt, far in the
distance.
This book contains much of value to those who expect to follow the
business of catching wolves and coyotes. A great deal of the habits
and many of the methods were written by Mr. E. Kreps, who has had
experience with these animals upon the Western Plains, in Canada, and
the South. Additional information has been secured from Government
Bulletins and experienced "wolfers" from various parts of America.
A. R. Harding.
WOLF AND COYOTE TRAPPING
CHAPTER I.
THE TIMBER WOLF.
Wolves of all species belong to that class of animals known as the
dog family, the members of which are considered to be the most
intelligent of brute animals. They are found, in one species or
another, in almost every part of the world. They are strictly
carnivorous and are beyond all doubt the most destructive of all wild
animals.
In general appearance the wolf resembles a large dog having erect
ears, elongated muzzle, long heavy fur and bushy tail. The size and
color varies considerably as there are many varieties.
The wolves of North America may be divided into two distinct groups,
namely, the large timber wolves, and the prairie wolves or coyotes
(ki'-yote). Of the timber wolves there are a number of varieties,
perhaps species, for there is considerable difference in size and
color. For instance there is the small black wolf which is still
found in Florida, and the large Arctic wolf which is found in far
Northern Canada and Alaska, the color of which is a pure white with a
black tip to the tail. Then there is that intermediate variety known
as the Grey Wolf, also called "Timber Wolf," "Lobo" and "Wolf," the
latter indefinite name being used throughout the West to distinguish
the animal from the prairie species. It is the most common of the
American wolves, the numbers of this variety being in excess of all
of the others combined. In addition to those mentioned, there are
others such as the Red Wolf of Texas and the Brindled Wolf of Mexico.
All of these, however, belong to the group known to naturalists as
the Timber Wolves. Just how many species and how many distinct
varieties there are is not known.
As a rule, the largest wolves are found in the North; the Gray Wolves
of the western plains being slightly smaller than the white and Dusky
Wolves of Northern Canada and Alaska, specimens of which, it is said,
sometimes weigh as much as one hundred and fifty pounds. Again the
wolves of the southern part of the United States and of Mexico are
smaller than the gray variety.
[Illustration: The Range of the Timber Wolf.]
The average full grown wolf will measure about five feet in length,
from the end of the nose to the tip of the tail, and will weigh from
eighty to one hundred pounds, but specimens have been killed which
far exceeded these figures. The prevailing color is gray, being
darkest on the back and dusky on the shoulders and hips. The tail is
very bushy and the fur of the body is long and shaggy. The ears are
erect and pointed, the muzzle long and heavy, the eyes brown and
considering the fierce, bloodthirsty nature of the animal, have a
very gentle expression.
In early days wolves were found in all parts of the country but they
have been exterminated or driven out of the thickly settled portions
and their present distribution in the United States is shown by the
accompanying map. As will be noted they are found in only a small
portion of Nevada and none are found in California, but they are to
be met with in all other states west of the Missouri and the lower
Mississippi, also all of the most southern tier of states, as well as
those parts bordering | 1,766.07402 |
2023-11-16 18:46:30.5532860 | 239 | 17 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing, Juliet Sutherland and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
TRANSACTIONS
OF THE
AMERICAN SOCIETY
OF
CIVIL ENGINEERS
(INSTITUTED 1852)
* * * * *
VOL. LXX
DECEMBER, 1910
* * * * *
Edited by the Secretary, under the direction of the Committee on
Publications.
Reprints from this publication, which is copyrighted, may be made
on condition that the full title of Paper, name of Author, and page
reference are given.
NEW YORK
PUBLISHED BY THE SOCIETY
* * * * *
1910
* * * * *
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1910, by the AMERICAN
SOCIETY OF CIVIL ENGINEERS, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress,
at Washington.
* * * * *
NOTE.--This Society is not responsible, as | 1,766.573326 |
2023-11-16 18:46:30.6551980 | 129 | 19 |
Produced by John Stuart Middleton
THE SHAME OF MOTLEY
Being the Memoir of Certain Transactions in the Life of Lazzaro
Biancomonte, of Biancomonte, sometime Fool of the Court of Pesaro.
By Rafael Sabatini
CONTENTS
PART I
FLOWER OF THE QUINCE
CHAPTER
I. THE CARDINAL OF VALENCIA
II. THE LIVERIES OF SANTAFIOR
III. MADONNA PAOLA
IV. THE COZENING OF RAMIRO
V. | 1,766.675238 |
2023-11-16 18:46:30.9532890 | 316 | 9 |
Produced by MFR, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration: SHIO YA SAKAE]
WHEN I WAS A BOY
IN JAPAN
BY
SAKAE SHIOYA
_ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS_
[Illustration]
BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Published, August, 1906.
COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
_All Rights Reserved._
WHEN I WAS A BOY IN JAPAN.
Norwood Press
Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U. S. A.
PREFACE
Japanese boys have not been introduced very much to their little
American friends, and the purpose of this book is to provide an
introduction by telling some of the experiences which are common to
most Japanese boys of the present time, together with some account of
the customs and manners belonging to their life. I can at least claim
that the story is told as it could be only by one who had actually
lived the life that is portrayed. I have endeavored to hold the
interest of my young readers by bringing in more or less of amusement.
The little girl companion is introduced | 1,766.973329 |
2023-11-16 18:46:31.0540300 | 7,436 | 45 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Transcriber's Notes: Mathematical problems could not be represented as
in the original as we cannot stack numbers. The following rules were
used:
Parentheses added to groupings of numbers.
Bracket and "rt" square roots. [3rt]
Carets and curly brackets indicate a superscripted number, letter or
symbol. 4^{3}
An underscore and curly brackets indicate a subscript. H_{2}O
Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded
by _underscores_.]
[Illustration: _The "Suna" before the Explosion._]
[Illustration: _The Torpedo._]
[Illustration: _The "Suna" after the Explosion._]
Griffin & C^{o.} Portsmouth. W.F. Mitchell del.
TORPEDOES
AND
TORPEDO WARFARE:
CONTAINING A
COMPLETE AND CONCISE ACCOUNT OF THE
RISE AND PROGRESS OF SUBMARINE WARFARE;
ALSO A
DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF ALL MATTERS APPERTAINING THERETO,
INCLUDING THE LATEST IMPROVEMENTS.
BY
C. W. SLEEMAN, ESQ.,
LATE LIEUT. R.N., AND LATE COMMANDER IMPERIAL OTTOMAN NAVY.
_WITH FIFTY-SEVEN FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS, DIAGRAMS,
WOODCUTS, &c._
PORTSMOUTH:
GRIFFIN & CO., 2, THE HARD,
(_Publishers by Appointment to H.R.H. The Duke of Edinburgh._)
LONDON AGENTS: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO.
1880.
_All Rights reserved._]
PREFACE.
IN the following pages the Author has endeavoured to supply a want,
viz. a comprehensive work on Torpedo Warfare, brought down to the
latest date.
The information has been obtained while practically engaged in torpedo
work at home and abroad, and from the study of the principal books
which have already appeared on the subject, and to the authors of which
he would now beg to express his acknowledgments, viz.: "Submarine
Warfare," by Lieut.-Commander Barnes, U.S.N.; "Notes on Torpedoes," by
Major Stotherd, R.E.; "Art of War in Europe," by General Delafield,
U.S.A.; "Life of Fulton," by C. D. Colden; "Torpedo War," by R.
Fulton; "Armsmear," by H. Barnard; "Treatise on Coast Defence," by
Colonel Von Scheliha; Professional Papers of the Royal Engineers; "The
Engineering"; "The Engineer"; "Scientific American"; "Iron"; &c., &c.
The Author is also desirous of thanking the following gentlemen, to
whom he is indebted for much of the valuable information contained
herein:--
Messrs. Siemens Brothers, Messrs. Thornycroft and Co., Messrs. Yarrow
and Co., Captain C. A. McEvoy, 18 Adam Street, W.C., Mr. L. Lay,
Messrs. J. Vavaseur and Co.
LONDON, 1879.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Preface iii
CHAPTER I.
The early History of the Torpedo--Remarks on the existing
State of Torpedo Warfare 1
CHAPTER II.
Defensive Torpedo Warfare--Mechanical Submarine
Mines--Mechanical Fuzes--Mooring Mechanical Mines 13
CHAPTER III.
Defensive Torpedo Warfare (_continued_)--Electrical
Submarine Mines--Electrical Fuzes--Insulated Electric
Cables--Electric Cable Joints--Junction Boxes--Mooring
Electrical Submarine Mines 27
CHAPTER IV.
Defensive Torpedo Warfare (_continued_)--Circuit
Closers--Firing by Observation--Voltaic
Batteries--Electrical Machines--Firing Keys and Shutter
Apparatus--Testing Submarine Mines--Clearing a Passage
through Torpedo Defences 60
CHAPTER V.
Offensive Torpedo Warfare--Drifting Torpedoes--Towing
Torpedoes--Locomotive Torpedoes--Spar Torpedoes--General
Remarks on Offensive Torpedoes 115
CHAPTER VI.
Torpedo Vessels and Boats--The _Uhlan_--The _Alarm_--The
_Destroyer_--Thornycroft's Torpedo Boats--Yarrow's
Torpedo Boats--Schibau's Torpedo Boats--Herreshoff's
Torpedo Boats--Torpedo Boat Attacks--Submarine Boats 158
CHAPTER VII.
Torpedo Operations--The Crimean War (1854-56)--The
Austro-Italian War (1859)--The American Civil War
(1861-65)--The Paraguayan War (1864-68)--The Austrian
War (1866)--The Franco-German War (1870-71)--The
Russo-Turkish War (1877-78) 187
CHAPTER VIII.
On Explosives--Definitions--Experiments--Gunpowder--Picric
Powder--Nitro-Glycerine--Dynamite--Gun-cotton--Fulminate
of Mercury--Dualin--Lithofracteur--Horsley's
Powder--Torpedo Explosive Agents--Torpedo Explosions 204
CHAPTER IX.
Torpedo Experiments--Chatham, England,
1865--Austria--Carlscrona, Sweden, 1868--Kiel,
Prussia--England, 1874--Copenhagen, Denmark,
1874--Carlscrona, Sweden, 1874-75--Portsmouth, England,
1874-75--Pola, Austria, 1875--Portsmouth, England,
1876--Experiments with Countermines--The Medway, England,
1870--Stokes Bay, England, 1873--Carlscrona, Sweden, 1874 220
CHAPTER X.
The Electric Light--The Nordenfelt and Hotchkiss Torpedo
Guns--Diving 239
CHAPTER XI.
Electricity 265
APPENDIX.
McEvoy's Single Main Systems 283
Siemens' Universal Galvanometer Tables 287
Synopsis of the Principal Events that have occurred in
connection with the History of the Torpedo 290
Index 297
LIST OF PLATES.
DESTRUCTION OF TURKISH GUNBOAT "SUNA" (_Frontispiece_).
I. FULTON'S TORPEDOES.
II. FRAME TORPEDOES, BUOYANT MECHANICAL MINES.
III. SINGER'S AND MCEVOY'S MECHANICAL MINES.
IV. EXTEMPORE MECHANICAL MINE, MECHANICAL PRIMERS.
V. MECHANICAL FUZES.
VI. FORM OF CASE OF SUBMARINE MINES.
VII. ELECTRIC FUZES.
VIII. ELECTRIC CABLES, EXTEMPORE CABLE JOINTS.
IX. PERMANENT JOINTS FOR ELECTRIC CABLES.
X. JUNCTION BOXES, MECHANICAL TURK'S HEAD.
XI. MOORINGS FOR SUBMARINE MINES.
XII. STEAM LAUNCH FOR MOORING SUBMARINE MINES.
XIII. MATHIESON'S CIRCUIT CLOSER.
XIV. AUSTRIAN CIRCUIT CLOSER, MERCURY CIRCUIT CLOSER.
XV. MCEVOY'S MAGNETO ELECTRO CIRCUIT CLOSER.
XVI. RUSSIAN SUBMARINE MINE, FIRING BY OBSERVATION.
XVII. APPARATUS FOR FIRING BY OBSERVATION.
XVIII. SYSTEMS OF DEFENCE BY SUBMARINE MINES.
XIX. FIRING BATTERIES, TESTING BATTERIES.
XX. FIRING KEYS, SHUTTER APPARATUS.
XXI. SHUTTER APPARATUS.
XXII. GALVANOMETERS FOR TESTING.
XXIII. SIEMENS' UNIVERSAL GALVANOMETER.
XXIIIA. DITTO DITTO.
XXIV. DITTO DITTO.
XXIVA. DITTO DITTO.
XXV. SHUNT, COMMUTATOR, RHEOSTAT.
XXVI. WHEATSTONE'S BRIDGE.
XXVII. TEST TABLE, DIFFERENTIAL GALVANOMETER.
XXVIII. METHODS OF TESTING--ARMSTRONG--AUSTRIAN.
XXIX. DRIFTING TORPEDOES.
XXX. HARVEY'S TOWING TORPEDO.
XXXI. DITTO DITTO.
XXXII. SYSTEMS OF ATTACK WITH HARVEY'S SEA TORPEDO.
XXXIII. DITTO DITTO.
XXXIV. DITTO DITTO.
XXXV. GERMAN AND FRENCH TOWING TORPEDOES.
XXXVI. WHITEHEAD'S FISH TORPEDOES.
XXXVII. THORNYCROFT'S BOAT APPARATUS FOR FISH TORPEDOES.
XXXVIII. LAY'S LOCOMOTIVE TORPEDO.
XXXIX. DITTO DITTO.
XL. DITTO DITTO.
XLI. DITTO DITTO.
XLII. DITTO DITTO.
XLIII. DITTO DITTO.
XLIV. MCEVOY'S DUPLEX SPAR TORPEDOES.
XLV. THE "ALARM" TORPEDO SHIP.
XLVI. THE "DESTROYER" TORPEDO SHIP.
XLVII. THORNYCROFT'S TORPEDO BOATS.
XLVIII. DITTO DITTO.
XLIX. YARROW'S TORPEDO BOATS.
L. DITTO DITTO.
LI. RUSSIAN TORPEDO BOAT, HERRESHOFF'S TORPEDO BOAT.
LII. SUBMARINE MINE EXPLOSION.
LIII. DITTO DITTO.
LIV. MCEVOY'S SINGLE MAIN SYSTEM.
[Illustration]
Torpedoes and Torpedo Warfare.
CHAPTER I.
THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE TORPEDO.--REMARKS ON THE EXISTING STATE OF
TORPEDO WARFARE.
THE earliest record we have of the employment of an infernal machine
at all resembling the torpedo of the present day, was in 1585 at the
siege of Antwerp. Here by means of certain small vessels, drifted down
the stream, in each of which was placed a magazine of gunpowder, to be
fired either by a trigger, or a combination of levers and clockwork, an
Italian engineer, Lambelli, succeeded in demolishing a bridge that the
enemy had formed over the Scheldt.
So successful was this first attempt, and so tremendous was the effect
produced on the spectators, by the explosion of one of these torpedoes,
that further investigation of this new mode of Naval warfare was at
once instituted.
But it was not until some two hundred years after that any real
progress was effected, though numerous attempts were made during this
period, to destroy vessels by means of sub-marine infernal machines.
It was owing to the fact, that the condition which is now considered as
essential in torpedo warfare, viz., that the charge must be submerged,
was then entirely ignored, that so long a standstill occurred in this
new art of making war.
_Captain Bushnell, the Inventor of Torpedoes._--To Captain David
Bushnell, of Connecticut, in 1775, is most certainly due the credit
of inventing torpedoes, or as he termed them submarine magazines. For
he first proved practically that a charge of gunpowder could be fired
under water, which is incontestably the essence of submarine warfare.
_Submarine Boat._--To Captain Bushnell is also due the credit of first
devizing a submarine boat for the purpose of conveying his magazines to
the bottom of hostile ships and there exploding them.
_Drifting Torpedoes._--Another plan of his for destroying vessels, was
that of connecting two of his infernal machines together by means of a
line, and throwing them into the water, allowing the current to carry
them across the bows of the attacked ship.
_Mode of Ignition._--The ignition of his magazines was generally
effected by means of clockwork, which, when set in motion, would
run for some time before exploding the machines, thus enabling the
operators to get clear of the explosion.
Captain Bushnell's few attempts to destroy our ships off the American
coast in 1776 and 1777, with his submarine boat, and his drifting
torpedoes were all attended with failure, a result generally
experienced, where new inventions are for the first time subjected to
the test of actual service.
_Robert Fulton._--Robert Fulton, an American, following in his
footsteps, some twenty years after, revived the subject of submarine
warfare, which during that interval seems to have been entirely
forgotten.
A resident in France, in 1797, he is found during that year making
various experiments on the Seine with a machine which he had
constructed, and by which he designed "to impart to carcasses of
gunpowder a progressive motion under water, to a certain point, and
there explode them."[A]
_Fulton's Failures._--Though these first essays of his resulted in
failure, Fulton thoroughly believed in the efficacy of his schemes, and
we find him, during that and succeeding years, vainly importunating the
French and Dutch Governments, to grant him aid and support in carrying
out experiments with his new inventions, whereby he might perfect
them, and thus ensure to whichever government acceded to his views, the
total destruction of their enemy's fleets.
_Bonaparte aids Fulton._--Though holding out such favourable terms, it
was not until 1800, when Bonaparte became First Consul, that Fulton's
solicitations were successful, and that money was granted him to carry
out a series of experiments.
In the following year (1801), under Bonaparte's immediate patronage,
Fulton carried out various and numerous experiments in the harbour of
Brest, principally with a submarine boat devised by him (named the
_Nautilus_), subsequently to his invention of submarine carcasses as
a means of approaching a ship and fixing one of his infernal machines
beneath her, unbeknown to the crew of the attacked ship.
_First Vessel destroyed by Torpedoes._--In August, 1801, Fulton
completely destroyed a small vessel in Brest harbour by means of one of
his submarine bombs, then called by him for the first time, torpedoes,
containing some twenty pounds of gunpowder. This is the first vessel
known to have been sunk by a submarine mine.
_Bonaparte's patronage withdrawn._--Notwithstanding the apparent
success, and enormous power of Fulton's projects, on account of a
failure on his part to destroy one of the English Channel fleet, at the
end of 1801, Bonaparte at once withdrew his support and aid.
Disgusted with this treatment, and having been previously pressed by
some of England's most influential men, to bring his projects to that
country, so that the English might reap the benefit of his wonderful
schemes, Fulton left France, and arrived in London, in May, 1804.
_Pitt supports Fulton._--Mr. Pitt, then Prime Minister, was much struck
with Fulton's various schemes of submarine warfare, and after examining
one of his infernal machines, or torpedoes, exclaimed, "that if
introduced into practice, it could not fail to annihilate all military
marines."[B]
Though having secured the approval of Mr. Pitt, and a few other members
of the Government, he was quite unable to induce the English to accept
his schemes in toto, and at once employ them in the Naval service.
Twice Fulton attempted to destroy French men-of-war, lying in the
harbour of Boulogne, by means of his drifting torpedoes, but each time
he failed, owing as he then explained, and which afterwards proved
to be the case, to the simple mistake of having made his machines
specifically heavier than water, thus preventing the current from
carrying them under a vessel's bottom.
_Destruction of the "Dorothea."_--Though in each of the above-mentioned
attempts Fulton succeeded in exploding his machines, and though on the
15th October, 1805, in the presence of a numerous company of Naval
and other scientific men, he completely demolished a stout brig, the
_Dorothea_, off Walmer Castle, by means of his drifting torpedoes,
similar to those employed by him at Boulogne, but considerably
improved, still the English Government refused to have anything further
to do with him or his schemes.
England, at that time, being mistress of the seas, it was clearly
her interest to make the world believe that Fulton's schemes were
impracticable and absurd.
Earl St. Vincent, in a conversation with Fulton, told him in very
strong language, "that Pitt was a fool for encouraging a mode of
warfare, which, if successful, would wrest the trident from those who
then claimed to bear it, as the sceptre of supremacy on the ocean."[C]
Wearied with incessant applications and neglect, and with failures, not
with his inventions, but in inducing governments to accept them, he
left England in 1806, and returned to his native country.
_Application to Congress for Help._--Arrived there, he lost no time in
solicitating aid from Congress to enable him to carry out experiments
with his torpedoes and submarine boats, practice alone in his opinion
being necessary to develop the extraordinary powers of his invention,
as an auxiliary to harbour defence.
By incessant applications to his government, and by circulating his
torpedo book[D] among the members, in which he had given detailed
accounts of all his previous experiments in France and England, and
elaborate plans for rendering American harbours, etc., invulnerable
to British attack, a Commission was appointed to inquire into and
practically test the value of these schemes.
They were as follows:--
1.--_Drifting Torpedoes._--Two torpedoes connected by
a line floated in the tide at a certain depth, and
suffered to drift across the bows of the vessel to
be attacked; the coupling line being arrested by the
ship's cable would cause the torpedoes to be forced
under her bottom; this plan is represented and will be
readily understood by Fig. 3.
2.--_Harpoon Torpedo._--A torpedo attached to one end
of a line, the other part to a harpoon, which was to be
fired into the bows of the doomed vessel from a piece
of ordnance mounted in the bows of a boat, specially
constructed for the purpose; the line being fixed to
the vessel by the harpoon, the current, if the vessel
were at anchor, or her progress if underweigh, would
carry the torpedo under her bottom. Fig. 2 represents
this type of Fulton's submarine infernal machine.
3.--_Spar Torpedo._--A torpedo attached to a spar
suspended by a swivel from the bowsprit of a torpedo
boat, so nearly balanced, that a man could easily
depress, or elevate the torpedo with one hand, whilst
with the other he pulled a trigger and exploded it.
4.--_Block Ship._--Block ships, that is vessels from
50 to 100 tons, constructed with sides impervious to
cannon shot, and decks made impenetrable to musket
shot. A spar torpedo _a, a, a_, to be carried on each
bow and quarter Fig. 4 represents this curious craft.
_Stationary Mines._--Stationary buoyant torpedoes
for harbour defence, to be fired by means of levers
attached to triggers. This kind of mine is shown at
Fig. 1.
5.--_Cable Cutters._--Cable cutters, that is submarine
guns discharging a sharp piece of iron in the shape of
a crescent, with sufficient force to cut through ship's
cables, or other obstructions.[E]
_Practical Experiments._--Various and exhaustive experiments were
carried out in the presence of the Commissioners, tending generally to
impress them with a favourable view of Fulton's many projects.
As a final test, the sloop _Argus_ was ordered, under the
superintendence of Commodore Rodgers, to whom Fulton had previously
explained his mode of attack, to be prepared to repel all attempts made
against her by Fulton, with his torpedoes.
_Defence of the "Argus."_--Though repeated attempts were made, none
were successful, owing to the energetic, though somewhat exaggerated
manner in which the defence of the sloop had been carried out. She
was surrounded by numerous spars lashed together, nets down to the
ground, grappling irons, heavy pieces of metal suspended from the yard
arms ready to be dropped into any boat that came beneath them, scythes
fitted to long spars for the purpose of mowing off the heads of any who
might be rash enough to get within range of them.
As Robert Fulton very justly remarked, "a system, then only in its
infancy, which compelled a hostile vessel to guard herself by such
extraordinary means could not fail of becoming a most important mode of
warfare."
Three of the Commissioners reported as favourably as could be expected,
considering its infancy, on the practical value of Fulton's scheme of
torpedo warfare.
_Congress refuse aid._--But on the strength of Commodore Rodgers's
report, which was as unfair and prejudiced, as the others were fair
and unprejudiced, Congress refused Fulton any further aid, or to
countenance any further experiments that he might still feel inclined
to prosecute.
Though undeterred by this fresh instance of neglect, and still having a
firm belief in the efficacy of his various torpedo projects, yet other
important matters connected with the improvement of the steam engine
occupied his whole time and prevented him from making any further
experiments with his submarine inventions.
_Mode of Firing, 1829._--Up to 1829, that is to say for nearly sixty
years after the invention of torpedoes, mechanical means only were
employed to effect the ignition of the torpedo charges, such as levers,
clockwork, and triggers pulled by hand; with such crude means of
exploding them, it is not extraordinary to find, that all the attempts
made to destroy hostile ships, resulted in failure.
[Illustration: FULTON'S TORPEDOES.
PLATE I]
Briefly reviewing the history of the torpedo during its first period
of existence, viz., from Captain Bushnell's invention of submarine
magazines in 1775, down to the introduction of electricity, as a
means of exploding submarine mines, by Colonel Colt, in 1829, we
find that due to the unwearied exertions, and numerous experiments
carried out by Captain Bushnell, Mr. R. Fulton and others, the
following very important principles in the art of torpedo warfare were
fully proved:--
1.--That a charge of gunpowder could be exploded under
water.
2.--That any vessel could be sunk by a torpedo,
provided only the charge were large enough.
3.--That it was possible to construct a boat which
could be navigated, and remain for several hours under
water, without detriment to her crew.
4.--That a ship at anchor could be destroyed, by means
of drifting torpedoes, or by a submarine or ordinary
boat, armed with a spar torpedo.
5.--That a vessel underweigh could be destroyed by
means of stationary submarine mines, and by the harpoon
torpedo.
These principles, which at the time were fully admitted, laid the
foundations of the systems of torpedo warfare, that are at the present
day in vogue, all over the world.
_Second Epoch._--The second epoch in the life of the torpedo dates from
1829, when Colonel Colt, then a mere lad, commenced experiments with
his submarine battery.
_Colt's Experiments._--His first public essay, was on the 4th June,
1842, when he exploded a case of powder in New York harbour, while
himself standing at a great distance off.
Having by numerous successful experiments satisfactorily proved that
vessels at anchor could be sunk by means of his electrical mines,
Colonel Colt engaged to destroy a vessel underweigh by similar means,
which feat he successfully accomplished on 13th April, 1844.
_Colt's Electric Cable._--The electric cable as used by Colonel Colt,
was insulated by cotton yarn, soaked in a solution of asphaltum and
beeswax, and the whole enclosed in a metal case.
_Colt's Reflector._--On examining Colt's papers after his death, one
was found illustrating one of his many devices for effecting the
explosion of a submarine mine at the proper instant.
_Description of Reflector._--One set of conducting wires from all the
mines is permanently attached to a single pole of a very powerful
firing battery, the other wires lead to metal points which are attached
to marks on a chart of the channel in front of the operator and which
marks correspond with the actual positions of the mines in the channel.
A reflector, is arranged to throw the image of a hostile vessel on the
chart, and as this image passes over either of the wire terminations
on it, the operator with the other battery wire, completes the
circuit, and explodes the torpedo, over which by her image thrown on
the chart, the vessel is supposed to be at that precise moment.[F] In
his experiment with a vessel under weigh, Colt had probably taken the
precaution of laying down several circles of mines, and thus aided by
cross staffs, ensured the experiment being a success.
With regard to the invention of the word torpedo, for submarine
infernal machines, Dr. Barnard in his life of Colt says, "that Fulton
used the word torpedo, probably on account of its power of stunning or
making torpid, and that a long way through the water,--in so naming it,
he buildeth better than he knew, for Colt's torpedoes being fired by
electricity may with special fitness take its name from the electric
eel."[G]
_Theoretical Knowledge._--Though many opportunities have occurred
during the last thirty-five years for practically testing the
effectiveness of torpedoes when employed on actual service, especially
during the American Civil War (1861-65) and the late Turco-Russian
War (1877-78), yet in so far as the offensive and electrical portion
of submarine warfare is concerned, our knowledge of them is still
principally theoretically.
_Failure of Offensive Torpedoes._--The manipulation of the ordinary
spar or outrigger torpedo boats, and of the various automatic
torpedoes, appears simple enough, when practice is made with those
submarine weapons during peace time, also the results of such practice
is without doubt uniformly successful, yet when the crucial test of
actual service is applied, as was the case during the war of 1877, with
the Whitehead and spar torpedoes, then a succession of failures had to
be recorded.[H]
The cause of this want of success in war-time with offensive torpedoes,
lies in the fact, that during peace time the experiments and practice
carried out with them, are done so, under the most favourable
circumstances, that is to say in daylight, and the nerves of the
operators not in that high state of tension, which would be the case,
were they attacking a man-of-war on a pitch dark night, whose exact
position cannot be known, and from whose guns at any moment a sheet of
fire may be belched forth, and a storm of shot and bullets be poured on
them, whilst on actual service, this would in nine out of ten instances
be the case.
Some uncertainty must and will always exist in offensive torpedo
operations when carried out in actual war, where, as in this case, the
success of the enterprise depends almost wholly on the state of a man's
nerves, yet this defect, a want of certainty, may to a considerable
extent be eradicated were means to be found of carrying out in time of
peace, a systematic practice of this branch of torpedo warfare, under
circumstances similar to those experienced in war time, and this is not
only possible, but practicable.
_Moral Effect of Torpedoes._--We now come to the moral effect of
torpedoes, which is undoubtedly the very essence of the vast power of
these terrible engines of war. Each successive war that has occurred,
in which the torpedo has taken a part, since Captain Bushnell's futile
attempt in 1775 to destroy our fleet by drifting numerous kegs charged
with gunpowder down the Delawarre, teem with proofs of the great worth
of torpedoes in this respect alone.
That such a dread of them should and always will be met with in future
Naval wars, at times creating a regular torpedo scare or funk, is not
extraordinary, when it is remembered that these submarine weapons of
the present day, are capable of sinking the finest ironclad afloat, and
of launching into eternity without a moment's warning or preparation,
whole ships' crews.
The torpedoes existing at the present day have, without doubt, reached
a very high degree of excellence, in so far as their construction,
fuzes, cables, &c., both electrically and mechanically, is concerned,
but much has yet to be done to develop their actual effectiveness.
The result of the numerous and exhaustive experiments that have of
late years been carried out by England, America, and Europe prove that
the necessary distances between stationary submarine mines are by far
greater than those within which the explosions are effective.
Therefore it will be found necessary to supplement those submarine
harbour defences, by automatic torpedoes that can be controlled and
directed from the shore, as well as by specially constructed torpedo
boats.
_Automatic Arrangements._--And to ensure certainty, which is the
desideratum in torpedo warfare, circuit closers, or other automatic
arrangements for exploding the submarine mines, must be employed, as
the system of firing them by judgment is not at all a sure one.
_Ship Defence._--The problem, which occupies the attention of Naval
and other scientific men, at the present day, is how best to enable a
ship to guard herself against attacks from the fish and other automatic
torpedoes, and this without in any way impairing her efficiency as a
man-of-war.
The means of such defence, should most certainly be inherent in the
vessel herself, outward methods, such as nets, booms, etc., are
to great extent impracticable, besides one of the above mentioned
torpedoes, being caught by such obstructions would, on exploding, most
probably destroy them, thus leaving the vessel undefended against
further attacks.
_Mechanical Mines._--Several ingenious methods have of late been
devised for the purpose of obviating one of the principal defects
common to all kinds of mechanical submarine mines, the most efficient
and practical of which will be found fully described in the following
pages, viz., the great danger attendant on the mooring of such mines;
but as yet, no really practical mode of rendering mechanical mines
safe, after they have once been moored and put in action, has been
discovered, were such to be devised, a very difficult and extremely
important problem of defensive torpedo warfare would be solved.
_Electrical Mines._--In regard to electrical submarine mines, much
has been done by torpedoists in general to simplify this otherwise
somewhat complicated branch of defensive torpedo warfare, by adopting
the platinum wire fuze, in the place of the high tension one, by the
employment of Leclanche firing batteries, by the simplification of
the circuit closer, and discarding the use of a circuit breaker, by
altering the form of torpedo case, and whenever possible by enclosing
the circuit closer in the submarine mine.
The necessity of a very elaborate system of testing should, if
possible, be overcome, for a system of submarine mines that requires
the numerous and various tests that are at the present day employed,
to enable those in charge of them to know for certain that when wanted
the mines will explode, cannot be considered as adaptable to actual
service. It must be remembered that the safety of many ports, etc.,
will in future wars depend almost entirely on the practical efficiency
of electrical and mechanical mines. As yet, in actual war, little or
no experience has been gained of the real value of a mode of coast
defence by electrical mines, excepting from a moral point of view,
though in this particular they have most undoubtedly been proved to be
exceedingly effective.
A submarine mine much wanted on active service, is one that can be
carried on board ships, capable of being fitted for use at a moment's
notice, and | 1,767.07407 |
2023-11-16 18:46:31.2537620 | 2,462 | 12 | AND OTHER AUSTRALIAN TALES***
E-text prepared by MFR, Martin Pettit, and the Online Distributed
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NUGGETS IN THE DEVIL'S PUNCH BOWL
AND OTHER AUSTRALIAN TALES
* * * * * *
_Crown 8vo. cloth. 6s._
THE KIDNAPPED SQUATTER
And Other Australian Tales
BY
ANDREW ROBERTSON
LONDON AND NEW YORK
LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
* * * * * *
NUGGETS IN THE DEVIL'S PUNCH BOWL
AND OTHER AUSTRALIAN TALES
by
ANDREW ROBERTSON
Author of "The Kidnapped Squatter," etc.
London
Longmans, Green, and Co.
And New York: 15 East 16th Street
Melbourne
Melville, Mullen, and Slade
1894
(All rights reserved)
Printed by
Hazell, Watson, and Viney, Ld.,
London and Aylesbury.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
NUGGETS IN THE DEVIL'S PUNCH BOWL 1
LANKY TIM 59
LOST IN THE BUSH 103
THUNDER-AND-LIGHTNING 159
NUGGETS IN THE DEVIL'S PUNCH BOWL
CHAPTER I
Bill Marlock had been shearing all the morning, with long slashing cuts
before which the fleece fell, fold upon fold. He was the "ringer" of the
shed, and his reputation was at stake, for Norman Campbell was running
him close. To-day was Saturday, and it was known from the tally that
Bill was only one sheep ahead, and that Norman was making every effort
to finish the week "one better" than the record shearer of Yantala
woolshed. The two men were working side by side, and eyeing each other
from time to time with furtive glances. Norman suddenly straightened
himself, and, quick as a frightened snake, thrust his long body across
the "board," with the sheep he had shorn in his sinewy hands, and shot
it into the tally pen among the white, shivering sheep. Then he dashed
into the catching pen, and seized the smaller of two sheep that
remained. At almost the same moment Bill had his hands upon the same
sheep, but took them off when he saw the other man was before him, and
was obliged to content himself, much to his chagrin, with the "cobbler,"
a grizzled, wiry-haired old patriarch that every one had shunned.
When Bill carried out this sheep there was a loud roar from all the
shearers who caught from that pen, followed by derisive laughter.
"Who shaved the cobbler?" was shouted from one end of the shed to the
other.
When almost every man had slashed and stabbed Bill with these cutting
words, a whisper ran round the "board" that Norman had beaten Bill in
his tally, and that the beaten man was groaning over his defeat and
climbing down from the position of the fastest shearer in the shed.
Bill did not like this: that was clear. He had known all the morning
that his pride of place was slipping from him, for his wrist ached and
was giving way under the strain. He finished shearing the "cobbler" when
the manager shouted "Smoko!" Then Bill slid down on the slippery floor
without a word, and laid his head upon his outstretched arm.
The sun was hot. Everything was frizzling, frying, or baking. The
stunted white-gums drooped and yawned; the grass hung limp; the tall
thistles bowed their heads and shut their eyes; the lizards were as
quiet as the granite boulders on which they lay; the crows sat
motionless on the fences; and the clouds were too lazy to move.
"Ee takes es gruel without choking, an' doesn't find no bones in't,"
said Jack Jewell, with a jerk of his left thumb towards Bill.
"Ol' Bill's panned out. Ef ee isn't ringer 'is porridge 'as no salt
in't," said Tom Wren.
"He! he!" giggled a weak little man; "it's like ridin' in a kerridge,
an' comin' down to hobblin' on yer own trotters."
Peter Amos, a greybeard, shook his head solemnly as he buried his nose
in a pannikin of tea, and said, "Let him that thinketh he standeth take
heed lest he fall--that's gospel wisdom; an' don't 'it a man wen's
down--that's worldly wisdom, an' looks like as it 'ad jumped out o' the
Bible stark naked."
"Mair like the man i' the parable, Peter," said Sandy McKerrow, "wha
took the highest room wi' a swagger, an' had to climb down to the lowest
room wi' his tail 'tween his legs."
"Aye, man, that's verra true, verra true," said another known as
"Scottie."
Here a stalwart giant, with a shock of red hair, stood up, with doubled
fists, and spat on the floor; then said, "If any of you mongrel mules
says another word against Bill, I'll rattle your teeth down your throat
like dice in a box."
Meanwhile the subject of this conversation had closed his eyes, and was
fast asleep. All his senses were locked, bolted, and barred. Sheep,
shears, tallies, and pride of place were forgotten. He was in the land
of dreams, that ancient land of gold, precious stones, ivory castles,
battle, murder, and sudden death.
Silence reigned in the shed. The men quietly ladled the tea out of the
buckets into their pannikins, or struck a match on the seat of their
trousers, lit their pipes, and smoked.
Bill slept on, but suddenly his brow was knitted and his hands were
clenched. Then he opened his eyes, and looked round with a scared face.
"Boys," he said, "I've had a dream! I'll never shear another sheep!"
He slowly rose and stood up, then he took his oilstone, and with it
smashed his shears into fragments.
"Good-bye all," he said; then slid into the count-out pen, vaulted two
fences, got his saddle and swag. When he caught his horse, he saddled
up, mounted, and rode away across the ranges.
"There's a roaring fire in that volcano," said Peter Amos, keeping the
words well between his teeth, for fear of the giant with the shock of
red hair.
CHAPTER II
Whether the dream or the hand of fate gave him his course I know not,
but Bill rode a straight line, up hill and down dale. When he came to a
fence or a log he made his horse jump it. There was no going round or
turning back, till he found himself descending a steep, rugged spot,
known as the Devil's Punch Bowl.
"This is the place I saw in my dream," he said aloud; "but where is the
dead man?"
A little stream wound in and out among the rocks. The hum of bees and
the smell of honey filled the air. Wattles waved their yellow tassels,
and reflected splashes of gold on the water. Wild mint, fennel, and
chamomile dipped their feet in the water, and wove two ribbons of green
on the margin of the brook, as far as the eye could measure them.
He came to a little track which his bush experience taught him was made
by man. He followed it to the water's edge. Here it had a grim ending. A
bucket and an old pannikin stood on a stone; a fresh footmark was
printed, sharp and clear, on a patch of damp earth; and the body of a
man, motionless, asleep or dead, was half hidden among the herbage,
growing lush and tall, as if trying to screen it with loving hands.
Bill jumped off his horse, and gently turned the man over on his back
and looked at him. One glance was enough. Two eyes, wide open, and
horrible to behold, met his gaze. A faint smile seemed to linger about
the mouth. The face appeared to be chiselled marble. It was easy to see
that Death had aimed true, and that his dart had struck home.
Bill, nevertheless, instinctively put his finger on the dead man's
pulse, and placed his hand over the heart. They were both still as a
rundown clock, and stopped for ever.
A letter had fallen from the man's pocket when he was being turned
over. Bill took it up in the hope that it would disclose something. The
writing was in a woman's hand, full of affection, repetition, and
platitude. It wound up with, "Your loving daughter, Mary." There was a
date on the top, but no address. There was an envelope, and the postmark
was Melbourne.
"Not much clue," said Bill; "nameless, so far." The man, evidently, by
the clay smears on his trousers, and by the general appearance of his
clothes, was a digger.
"I saw a tent in my dream, so I'll look for it," said Bill.
He went along the little track for a hundred yards, and there, behind
some stunted bushes, stood a weather-stained, ragged tent. Everything
about it was squalid, unkempt, unwashed, and unlovely. The only bit of
sentiment, or romance if you will, was a photograph of a girl, pinned to
the tent, at the head of the bed. There was a pathetic look about the
eyes which seemed to follow him wherever he turned. They haunted him,
and illumined the tent. After a short time he went up to the portrait,
and stared at it for five minutes, studying every feature.
"I suppose you are Mary," he said; "I feel we are to meet some day, and
you are to come into my life."
Below the photograph, and also pinned to the canvas, was a rude diagram.
At one end of a line was a triangle; at the other end a curious tree
with two branches touching the ground. Between the triangle and the tree
was a big dot, and at the dot were two figures, but whether 45 or 65 he
could not tell. An arrow pointed to them.
He kissed the photograph, unpinned it carefully, and put it in his
pocket.
Then he took down the diagram and examined it more carefully. There was
an almost undecipherable scrawl at the bottom, which he made out to be,
"For Mary." He put the diagram in his purse.
"This morning," he whispered, "I thought I was tied to shearing for
life; now I am harnessed, | 1,767.273802 |
2023-11-16 18:46:31.5534590 | 1,297 | 72 |
Produced by Prepared by Al Haines.
THREE YOUNG KNIGHTS
By Annie Hamilton Donnell
CHAPTER I.
The last wisp of hay was in the Eddy mows. "Come on!" shouted Jot.
"Here she goes--hip, hip, hoo-ray!"
"Hoor-a-ay!" echoed Kent. But of course Old Tilly took it calmly. He
planted his brown hands pocket-deep and his bare, brown legs wide apart,
and surveyed the splendid, bursting mows with honest pride.
"Yes, sir, that's the finest lot o' hay in Hexham county; beat it if you
can, sir!" he said approvingly. Then, being ready, he caught off his
own hat and cheered, too.
"Hold on, you chaps; give the old man a chance to holler with you!"
Father Eddy's big, hearty voice cried above the din, and there was the
flaring, sun-browned "wide-awake" swinging with the other hats.
"Hooray for the best hay in town! Hooray for the smartest team o' boys!
Hooray for lib-er-tee!"
"Hooray! Hooray!"
They were all of them out of breath and red in the face, but how they
cheered! Liberty--that was something to cheer for! After planting-time
and haying, hurrah for liberty!
The din softened gradually. With a sweep of his arm, father gathered
all the boys in a laughing heap before him.
"Well," he said, "what next? Who's going to celebrate? I'm done with
you for a fortnight. I'm going to hire Esau Whalley to milk and do the
chores, and send you small chaps about your business. You've earned
your holiday. And I don't know but it's as good a time as any to settle
up. Pay day's as good one day as another."
He drew out a little tight roll of bills and sorted out three
five-dollar notes gravely. The boys' eyes began to shine. Father'most
always paid them, after haying, but--five dollars apiece! Old Tilly
pursed his lips and whistled softly. Kent nudged Jot.
[Illustration: He sorted out three five-dollar notes gravely.]
"There you are! You needn't mind about giving receipts!" Father Eddy
said matter-of-factly, but his gray eyes were a-twinkle under their
cliffs of gray brows. He was exulting quietly in the delight he could
read in the three round, brown faces. Good boys--yes, sir--all of them!
Wasn't their beat in Hexham county--no, sir! Nor yet in Marylebone
county or Winnipeg!
"Now, on with you--scatter!" he laughed. "Mother and I are going to
mill to celebrate! When you've decided what you're going to do, send a
committee o' three to let us know. Mind, you can celebrate any way you
want to that's sensible."
The boys waited till the tall, stoop-shouldered figure had gone back
into the dim, hay-scented barn, then with one accord the din began
again.
"Hoo-ray! Hoo-ray for father!"
"Father! father! hoo-ray!"
"Hoor-a-ay!"
It died away, began again, then trailed out to a faint wail as the boys
scuttled off round the barn to the orchard. Father smiled to himself
unsteadily.
"Good boys! good boys! good boys!" he muttered.
"Come on up in the consultery!" cried Kent excitedly.
"Yes, come on, Old Till; that's the place!" Jot echoed.
The "consultery" was a platform up in the great horse-chestnut tree.
When there was time, it could be reached comfortably by a short ladder,
but, in times of hurry, it was the custom to swing up to it by a
low-hanging bough, with a long running jump as a starter. To-day
they all swung up.
"Oh, I say, won't there be times!" cried Kent. "Five apiece is fifteen,
lumped. You can celebrate like everything with fifteen dollars!"
"Sure--but how?" Old Tilly asked in his gentle, moderate way. "We don't
want any old, common celebration!"
"You better believe we don't!"
"No, sir, we want to do something new! Camping out's old!"
"Camping's no good! Go on!" Jot said briefly. It was always Old Tilly
they looked to for suggestions. If you waited long enough, they were
sure to come.
"Well, that's the trouble. I can't 'go on'--yet. You don't give a chap
time to wink! What we want is to settle right down to it and think out
a fine way to celebrate. It's got to take time."
For the space of a minute it was still in the consultery, save for the
soft swish of the leaves overhead and roundabout. Then Jot broke out--a
minute was Jot's utmost limit of silence.
"We could go up through the Notch and back, you know," he reflected.
"That's no end of fun. Wouldn't cost us all more'n a fiver for the
round trip, and we'd have the other ten to--to--"
"Buy popcorn and 'Twin Mountain Views' with!" finished Kent in scorn.
"Well, if you want to dress up in your best fixin's and stew all day in
a railroad train--"
"I don't!" rejoined Jot, hastily. "I was thinking of Old Till!"
Tilly's other name was Nathan, but it had grown musty with disuse. He
was the oldest of the Eddy trio, and "ballasted" the other two, Father
| 1,767.573499 |
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[Illustration: BIANCA CAPPELLO.]
_From an Original Painting by Cristofero Allori in the Uffizi at
Florence._
A DECADE
OF
ITALIAN WOMEN.
BY
T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE,
AUTHOR OF "THE GIRLHOOD OF CATHERINE DE' MEDICI."
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.
1859.
[_The right of Translation is reserved._]
LONDON
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
CONTENTS.
TULLIA D'ARAGONA.
Born, about 1510. Died, about 1570.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
My Lord Cardinal's daughter 1
CHAPTER II.
Aspasia rediviva 10
CHAPTER III.
"All's well, that ends well" 21
OLYMPIA MORATA.
Born, 1526. Died, 1555.
CHAPTER I.
Good old times in Ferrara.—How a Pope's daughter became a
Duchess; bygones were bygones; and Love was still the lord of
all 30
CHAPTER II.
Troublous new times in Ferrara.—How a French King's daughter
became a Duchess; bygones were aught but bygones; and Mitre
and Cowl were lords of all 54
CHAPTER III.
How shall a Pope be saved? with the answer thereto.—How shall
our Olympia be saved? To be taken into consideration in a
subsequent chapter 77
CHAPTER IV.
"The whirligig of time brings in his revenges."—Still
Undine.—The "salvation" question stands over 92
CHAPTER V.
Dark days.—The great question begins to be answered 108
CHAPTER VI.
The question fully answered at last.—Farewell,
Ferrara!—Welcome inhospitable Caucasus.—Omne solum forti
patria est 122
CHAPTER VII.
At Augsburg; and at Würzburg 143
CHAPTER VIII.
The home at Schweinfurth 154
CHAPTER IX.
The makers of history.—The flight from Schweinfurth 168
CHAPTER X.
A new home in Heidelberg; and a last home beneath it.—What is
Olympia Morata to us? 182
ISABELLA ANDREINI.
Born, 1562. Died, 1604.
Italian love for the Theatre.—Italian Dramatic
Literature.—Tragedy.—Comedy.—Tiraboschi's notion of
it.—Macchiavelli's Mandragola.—Isabella's high standing among
her contemporaries.—Her husband.—Her high character.—Death,
and Epitaph.—Her writings.—Nature and value of histrionic art
205
BIANCA CAPPELLO.
Born, 1548. Died, 1587.
CHAPTER I.
The pretty version of the story; and the true version
of the same.—St. Mark's Square at Florence.—Bianca's
beauty.—The Medici _en famille_.—The Casino of St. Mark.—The
proprieties.—"Cosa di Francesco" 220
CHAPTER II.
A favourite's husband.—The natural course of things.—Italian
respectability.—The three brothers, Francesco, Ferdinand,
and Pietro.—The ladies of the court.—Francesco's temper—his
avarice—and wealth.—Frolicsome days at Florence.—The Cardinal
recommends respectability.—The Duke ensures it.—A court
dialogue 234
CHAPTER III.
Bianca balances her accounts.—Dangers in her path.—A bold
step—and its consequences.—Facilis descensus.—A proud
father.—Bianca's witchcraft.—The Cardinal is checkmated, for
this game 257
CHAPTER IV.
The Duchess Giovanna and her sorrows.—An heir is born.—Bianca
in the shade.—The "Orti Oricellari."—Bianca entertains the
Court there.—A summer night's amusement in 1577.—The death of
Giovanna 271
CHAPTER V.
What is Francesco to do now?—The Cardinal and Bianca try
another fall.—Cardinal down again.—Francesco's vengeance.—What
does the Church say?—Bianca at Bologna.—The marriage privately
performed.—The Cardinal learns the secret.—The daughtership of
St. Mark.—Venetian doings _versus_ Venetian sayings.—Embassy
to Florence.—Suppose we could have her crowned!—The marriage
publicly solemnised 284
CHAPTER VI.
Bianca's new policy.—New phase of the battle between the
woman and the priest.—Serene, or not serene! that is the
question.—Bianca protests against sisters.—Death of the
child Filippo.—Bianca's troubles and struggles.—The villa of
Pratolino.—Francesco's extraordinary mode of life there 303
CHAPTER VII.
The family feeling in Italy.—Who shall be the heir?—Bianca
at Cerreto.—Camilla di Martelli.—Don Pietro on the watch.—
Bianca at her tricks again.—The Cardinal comes to look
after matters.—Was Francesco dupe or accomplice?—Bianca's
comedy becomes a very broad farce.—A "Villeggiatura" at
Poggio–a–Cajano.—The Cardinal wins the game 317
CHAPTER VIII.
Three hypotheses respecting the deaths of Francesco and
Bianca.—The official version of the story.—The Novelist's
version of the story.—A third possibility.—Circumstances that
followed the two deaths.—Bianca's grave; and epitaphs for it
by the Florentines.—Ferdinand's final success 333
OLYMPIA PAMFILI.
Born, 1594. Died, 1656.
Pope Joan rediviva.—Olympia's outlook on life.—Her mode of
"opening the oyster."—She succeeds in opening it.—Olympia's
son.—Olympia at home in the Vatican.—Her trade.—A Cardinal's
escape from the purple.—Olympia under a cloud. Is once
more at the head of the field; and in at the death.—A
Conclave.—Olympia's star wanes.—Pœna pede claudo 346
ELISABETTA SIRANI.
Born, 1638. Died, 1665.
CHAPTER I.
Her life 366
CHAPTER II.
Her death 379
LA CORILLA.
Born, 1740. Died, 1800.
CHAPTER I.
The apprenticeship to the laurel 393
CHAPTER II.
The coronation 403
APPENDIX 417
NOTES 429
INDEX 437
A DECADE OF ITALIAN WOMEN.
TULLIA D'ARAGONA.
(About 1510—about 1570.)
CHAPTER I.
MY LORD CARDINAL'S DAUGHTER.
One remarkable circumstance among those which specially characterised
the great intellectual movement in Italy in the sixteenth century, was
the large part taken in it by women. The writers of literary history,—a
class especially abundant to the south of the Alps,—enumerate a
surprisingly long catalogue of ladies more or less celebrated for their
works. The list of poetesses registered by Tiraboschi as flourishing
during the first half of the sixteenth century, consists of some forty
names. And he intimates, that it might have been made much longer,
had he thought it worth while to record every name mentioned by the
chroniclers of such matters, who preceded him. A great many more are
noticed as having been "learned" or "skilled in polite literature."
Such facts constitute a very noteworthy feature of the social aspect
of the period in question; and doubtless influenced largely the
tone of society and manners, as well as the position and well–being
of the sex. But it is very questionable, whether certain theories
respecting the comparative value of modern female education, to which
all this sixteenth century galaxy has given rise, be not founded on
misconception partly of the value of the learning possessed by these
ladies, and more still of the circumstances and appearance, under which
it presented itself to them.
Intellectual culture in that day meant especially, almost exclusively,
what has been since more technically called "learning." The movement,
which was then once again stirring up the mind of the educated classes
arose mainly, as every body knows, from the discovery and resuscitation
of the literature of ancient Greece and Rome. To be, if not a good
Grecian, at least a competent Latin scholar, was the first step
absolutely necessary in the liberal education of either male or female.
Nay, it constituted very frequently not only the first step, but the
entire course. In Italy this was in an especial degree the case. Not
only the fashion of literature, but the general tone of the educated
mind became classical,—and pagan. And the rapidity with which the new
modes of thought and fashion of taste spread, and,—speaking of course
with reference only to the educated classes,—popularised themselves, is
very striking. But they did so, because they were eminently suited to
the proclivity of the minds to which they were presented.
[Sidenote: THE NEW LEARNING.]
For this new learning came to them as an emancipation and a licence.
Such learning as had been before in existence was dry, severe,
repulsive, associated only with ideas of discipline, sacrifice, and
renunciation of the world and its pleasures—the proper business of
ascetic priests and hermits. The new studies were the reverse of
all this. Elegant, facile, materialistic in all their tendencies
and associations, adapting themselves readily to the amusements and
passions of the young and gay, they must be compared, if we would
parallel them with aught of modern culture, with the lighter of
those accomplishments, which are now called ornamental. The total
unchristianising of Italian society, which the rage for classical
literature very rapidly produced, was such as strikingly to justify the
modern[1] crusade against classical culture preached by those who are
anxious to preserve such Christianity as that, which then went down
before the irruption of literary paganism. The exquisitely organised
æsthetic faculties of the southern mind eagerly imbibed and readily
assimilated the habits of thought, generated by a religion, whose only
real object of worship was material beauty. The extremely relaxed
morality of the time was subjected to a refining influence, but by no
means checked by a literature rich in poetical drapery for every form
of vice. And the lightest, gayest, freest portion of society, beginning
now to be awakened to a relish for the elegances of life by increasing
wealth and luxury, found exactly what suited them in the revived
literature of the forefathers of their race; a literature which was the
product of generations uninfluenced by the wholly irreconcilable ideas
of a philosophy and religion imposed on their descendants with very
partial success by men of differently constituted races from the east
and from the north.
Englishmen are wont to estimate the study of the literature of Greece
and Rome in a manner very much at variance with the ideas expressed
in the above sentences; and judging it, as of course we do, from its
results among ourselves, most justly so. It would take us much too far
afield to examine satisfactorily why these results should have been so
different in the two cases. The most important portion of the causes of
difference would probably be found to consist in the dissimilarity of
our northern idiosyncrasies to those of the ancient writers. In Italy,
the old tree bore its own natural fruit. With us, it was engrafted on
another stock. The southern mind became all classical. The northern
mind was modified only by contact with the ancient literature. Perhaps
also, some weight may be allowed to the greater difficulty of the study
in our case; whence it has arisen, that the thorough and analytical
study of the dead languages, has been deemed eminently profitable as
intellectual discipline, and as the best foundation of general mental
culture.
And these views of classic learning lead us to attribute almost
instinctively, as it were, a high degree of solidity, grave scholastic
laboriousness, and respectability to the acquirements of those who
possess it. A lady well read in Greek and Latin, appears to us to
have necessarily reached an intellectual elevation which places her
above the shallowness, superficiality, and frivolousness with which
modern female education is ordinarily reproached. And we sigh over the
supposed inferiority in this respect, of England in the nineteenth
century, to the brilliant Italy of the sixteenth. It is true, that in
the case of Vittoria Colonna, we have seen a product of the classical
training of that day, which—_mutatis mutandis_—we might be content to
reproduce. But the instance is wholly exceptional; and the qualities,
moreover, which we admire in Vittoria are to be traced, probably, as
far as they are independent on constitutional idiosyncrasy, to those
associations with some very remarkable men, which taught her to use her
ancient learning as a tool, and not a final object.
[Sidenote | 1,767.576429 |
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Transcriber's Notes:
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by
=equal signs=.
Small uppercase have been replaced with regular uppercase.
Characters after a carat are superscripts.
Blank pages have been eliminated.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the
original.
A few typographical errors have been corrected.
[Illustration:
_Painted by Robinson._ _Eng^{d.} by J. Sartain_]
A
MEMORIAL
OF
MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE.
IN TWO PARTS.
PART I. MEMOIR, AND FUNERAL SERMON.
PART II. LETTERS TO HER SURVIVING CHILDREN.
PHILADELPHIA:
WILLIAM S. MARTIEN.
1839.
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by
WILLIAM S. MARTIEN,
in the office of the Clerk of the District Court, for the Eastern
District of Pennsylvania.
CONTENTS
PART I.
_Page._
INTRODUCTION, 13
CHAPTER I.
Life of Mrs. Breckinridge, 17
CHAPTER II.
Additional Illustrations of the Life and Character of Mrs.
Breckinridge, 35
Her Religious Character, 42
Her dedication to the work of Foreign Missions, 46
Her Sacrifices for the Church of God, 47
Her Last Sickness and Death, 54
CHAPTER III.
Closing Reflections, 61
SUBMISSION:
A SERMON--by the Rev. A. Alexander, D.D. 69
PART II.
LETTERS OF A GRANDFATHER.
LETTER I.
Introductory, 5
LETTER II.
Human Nature, 10
LETTER III.
The Way of Salvation, 17
LETTER IV.
The Bible, 29
LETTER V.
Prayer, 37
LETTER VI.
Cultivation of the Mind, 45
LETTER VII.
Cultivation of the Heart and the Moral Habits, 67
LETTER VIII.
Manners, 87
A
MEMOIR
OF
MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE.
"Jesus wept."
PART I.
INTRODUCTION.
MORE than a year has now passed since Mrs. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE, the
beloved subject of the following brief notices, was taken from us into
the saints' everlasting rest. By that event, the little family of which
she was the joy and crown, was dissolved. The surviving parent felt that
God had committed to him the interesting but mournful duty of preserving
the memory of so inestimable a friend. But it is long after such an
event, before the mind is sufficiently tranquil to utter our thoughts
and feelings without excess. The peaceable fruits of so dreadful a
chastisement succeed, alas! but slowly in our intractable hearts, to the
distraction of grief, and the desolation of the grave.
It was in the midst of the deepest of his sorrow, also, that the writer
was hastened (by a very kind Providence, as he now sees it to have been)
into the active duties of an office which left no rest for body or mind
during almost an entire year. So that if his feelings had allowed the
attempt at preparing a Memoir, his duty to the Church of God forbade it.
In these trying and peculiar circumstances, he was permitted to call in
the aid of those honoured and venerable Friends, from whose hands, in a
happier day, he had received the lovely wife of his youth. They of all
others knew her best, especially from her birth to her marriage. They
had done most, under God, to fit her for life's duties, and its close;
and to make her "worthy to be had in everlasting remembrance." And none
were judged to be so well qualified to do justice to her memory. To the
one we are indebted for the following interesting Sketch, making the
first chapter. To the other for the valuable Letters to her surviving
children, forming the second part of this memorial.
While all must admire the delicacy and candour with which this sketch is
drawn, it is evident to those who knew the deceased, that much remains
to be said which ought not to be omitted--especially in regard to that
portion of her life, embracing more than fifteen years, which passed
between the time of leaving the parental roof, and her lamented death.
In attempting to supply this omission, the writer felt the
inconvenience--even awkwardness of returning upon a narrative which
seemed to have been brought to an appropriate close. But this was
thought preferable to leaving the memoir incomplete; or to breaking the
thread of the narrative given in the first chapter.
And moreover it was felt that the design of the work which called for
the additional chapters, dispensed with form in the manner of
furnishing them. It is intended to preserve the memory of the beloved
dead for her bereaved children, and her numerous kindred and friends,
rather than to unveil her retiring character to the public eye. The work
being designed, not so much for general circulation as for family use,
is rather _printed_, than _published_; and all its imperfections will
readily be overlooked by those who will come to these pages, as Mary
went to the tomb of Lazarus--"to weep there."
MEMOIR.
CHAPTER I.
A NARRATIVE of the life of our departed friends, bears some resemblance
to the representation, on canvass, of their persons and features; it
serves to restore and collect our scattered thoughts, and revive our
affections; and prevents the hand of time from obliterating entirely,
their peculiar mental and moral lineaments.
It was in consequence of the necessity of this help to our natural
infirmities, that our Lord gave to his people the bread and wine, as a
symbol of his body and blood, and said, "Do this in remembrance of me."
He knew too well our careless, wandering hearts, to trust the
recollections, even of _his_ great and lovely character, to our
unfaithful keeping, and established, as a help to his word, the
ordinance which was to continue unto the end of the world, | 1,767.877861 |
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Transcriber's Note
Words in {curly brackets} were abbreviated in the original text, and
have been expanded for this etext. Greek is indicated with plus
symbols, +like this+.
THE ART
OF
NEEDLE-WORK,
FROM THE EARLIEST AGES;
INCLUDING
SOME NOTICES OF THE
ANCIENT HISTORICAL TAPESTRIES
EDITED BY
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE COUNTESS OF WILTON.
"I WRITE THE NEEDLE'S PRAYSE."
_THIRD EDITION._
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1841.
TO
HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY
THE QUEEN DOWAGER
THIS LITTLE WORK,
INTENDED TO ILLUSTRATE THE HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF AN ART
ENNOBLED BY HER MAJESTY'S PRACTICE, AND BY HER EXAMPLE
RECOMMENDED TO THE
WOMEN OF ENGLAND,
IS,
BY HER MAJESTY'S MOST GRACIOUS PERMISSION,
INSCRIBED,
WITH THE UTMOST RESPECT,
BY HER MAJESTY'S MOST GRATEFUL
AND MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT,
THE AUTHORESS.
PREFACE.
If there be one mechanical art of more universal application than all
others, and therefore of more universal interest, it is that which is
practised with the NEEDLE. From the stateliest denizen of the proudest
palace, to the humblest dweller in the poorest cottage, all more or
less ply the busy needle; from the crying infant of a span long and an
hour's life, to the silent tenant of "the narrow house," all need its
practical services.
Yet have the NEEDLE and its beautiful and useful creations hitherto
remained without their due meed of praise and record, either in sober
prose or sounding rhyme,--while their glittering antithesis, the
scathing and destroying sword, has been the theme of admiring and
exulting record, without limit and without end!
The progress of real civilization is rapidly putting an end to this
false _prestige_ in favour of the "Destructive" weapon, and as rapidly
raising the "Conservative" one in public estimation; and the time
seems at length arrived when that triumph of female ingenuity and
industry, "THE ART OF NEEDLEWORK" may be treated as a fitting subject
of historical and social record--fitting at least for a female hand.
The chief aim of this volume is that of affording a comprehensive
record of the most noticeable facts, and an entertaining and
instructive gathering together of the most curious and pleasing
associations, connected with "THE ART OF NEEDLEWORK," from the
earliest ages to the present day; avoiding entirely the dry
technicalities of the art, yet furnishing an acceptable accessory to
every work-table--a fitting tenant of every boudoir.
The Authoress thinks thus much necessary in explanation of the objects
of a work on what may be called a maiden topic, and she trusts that
that leniency in criticism which is usually accorded to the adventurer
on an unexplored track will not be withheld from her.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Page
Introductory 1
CHAPTER II.
Early Needlework 11
CHAPTER III.
Needlework of the Tabernacle 23
CHAPTER IV.
Needlework of the Egyptians 32
CHAPTER V.
Needlework of the Greeks and Romans 41
CHAPTER VI.
The Dark Ages.--"Shee-Schools" 56
CHAPTER VII.
Needlework of the Dark Ages 64
CHAPTER VIII.
The Bayeux Tapestry.--Part I. 84
CHAPTER IX.
The Bayeux Tapestry.--Part II. 103
CHAPTER X.
Needlework of the Times of Romance and Chivalry 117
CHAPTER XI.
Tapestry 148
CHAPTER XII.
Romances worked in Tapestry 165
CHAPTER XIII.
Needlework in Costume.--Part I. 186
CHAPTER XIV.
Needlework in Costume.--Part II. 209
CHAPTER XV.
"The Field of the Cloth of Gold" 231
CHAPTER XVI.
The Needle 252
CHAPTER XVII.
Tapestry from the Cartoons 273
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Days of "Good Queen Bess" 282
CHAPTER XIX.
The Tapestry of the Spanish Armada; better
known as the Tapestry of the House of Lords 301
CHAPTER XX.
On Stitchery 312
CHAPTER XXI.
"Les Anciennes Tapisseries." Tapestry of St.
Mary Hall, Coventry. Tapestry of Hampton Court 329
CHAPTER XXII.
Embroidery 342
CHAPTER XXIII.
Needlework on Books 355
CHAPTER XXIV.
Needlework of Royal Ladies 374
CHAPTER XXV.
Modern Needlework 395
THE ART
OF
NEEDLEWORK.
INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER I.
"Le donne son venute in eccellenza
Di ciascun'arte, ove hanno posto cura;
E qualunque all'istorie abbia avvertenza,
Ne sente ancor la fama non oscura.
* * * * *
E forse ascosi han | 1,767.973365 |
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[ Transcriber's Notes:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
as possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation.
Some corrections of spelling have been made. They are listed at the
end of the text.
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
]
PROPHETS OF DISSENT
BOOKS BY OTTO HELLER
HENRIK IBSEN: PLAYS AND PROBLEMS
STUDIES IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE
LESSING'S "MINNA VON BARNHELM"
in English
Prophets of Dissent: Essays
on Maeterlinck, Strindberg,
Nietzsche and Tolstoy
by
Otto Heller
Professor of Modern European Literature
in Washington University (St. Louis)
Is there a thing in this world that can be separated from
the inconceivable?
Maeterlinck, "Our Eternity"
New York
Mcmxviii
Alfred A Knopf
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
ALFRED A. KNOPF
PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
To
HELLEN SEARS
staunchest of friends
Preface
The collocation of authors so widely at variance in their moral and
artistic aims as are those assembled in this little book may be defended
by the safe and simple argument that all of these authors have exerted,
each in his own way, an influence of singular range and potency. By
fairly general consent they are the foremost literary expositors of
important modern tendencies. It is, therefore, of no consequence whether
or not their ways of thinking fit into our particular frame of mind;
what really matters is that in this small group of writers more clearly
perhaps than in any other similarly restricted group the basic issues of
the modern struggle for social transformation appear to be clearly and
sharply joined. That in viewing them as indicators of contrarious ideal
currents due allowance must be made for peculiarities of temperament,
both individual and racial, and, correspondingly, for the purely
"personal equation" in their spiritual attitudes, does not detract to
any material degree from their generic significance.
In any case, there are those of us who in the vortical change of the
social order through which we are whirling, feel a desire to orient
ourselves through an objective interest in letters among the embattled
purposes and policies which are now gripped in a final test of strength.
In a crisis that makes the very foundations of civilization quake, and
at a moment when the salvation of human liberty seems to depend upon the
success of a united stand of all the modern forces of life against the
destructive impact of the most primitive and savage of all the
instincts, would it not be absurdly pedantic for a critical student of
literature to resort to any artificial selection and co-ordination of
his material in order to please the prudes and the pedagogues? And is it
not natural to seek that material among the largest literary apparitions
of the age?
It is my opinion, then, that the four great authors discussed in the
following pages stand, respectively, for the determining strains in a
great upsetting movement, and that in the aggregate they bring to view
the composite mental and moral impulsion of the times. Through such
forceful articulations of current movements the more percipient class of
readers have for a long time been enabled to foresense, in a manner, the
colossal reconstruction of society which needs must follow this
monstrous, but presumably final, clash between the irreconcilable
elements in the contrasted principles of right and might, the masses and
the monarchs.
However, the gathering together of Maeterlinck, Nietzsche, Strindberg,
and Tolstoy under the hospitality of a common book-cover permits of a
supplementary explanation on the ground of a certain fundamental
likeness far stronger than their only too obvious diversities. They are,
one and all, radicals in thought, and, with differing strength of
intention, reformers of society, inasmuch as their speculations and
aspirations are relevant to practical problems of living. And yet what
gives them such a durable hold on our attention is not their particular
apostolate, but the fact that their artistic impulses ascend from the
subliminal regions of the inner life, and that their work somehow brings
one into touch with the hidden springs of human action and human fate.
This means, in effect, that all of them are mystics by original cast of
mind and that notwithstanding any difference, however apparently
violent, of views and theories, they follow the same introspective path
towards the recognition and interpretation of the law of life. From
widely separated ethical premises they thus arrive at an essentially
uniform appraisal of personal happiness as a function of living.
To those readers who are not disposed to grant the validity of the
explanations I have offered, perhaps equality of rank in artistic
importance may seem a sufficient criterion for the association of
authors, and, apart from all sociologic and philosophic considerations,
they may be willing to accept my somewhat arbitrary selection on this
single count.
O. H.
April, 1918.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I Maurice Maeterlinck: a study in Mysticism 3
II August Strindberg: a study in Eccentricity 71
III Friedrich Nietzsche: a study in Exaltation 109
IV Leo Tolstoy: a study in Revivalism 161
I
THE MYSTICISM OF MAURICE MAETERLINCK
Under the terrific atmospheric pressure that has been torturing the
civilization of the entire world since the outbreak of the greatest of
wars, contemporary literature of the major cast appears to have gone
into decline. Even the comparatively few writers recognized as
possessing talents of the first magnitude have given way to that
pressure and have shrunk to minor size, so that it may be seriously
questioned, to say the least, whether during the past forty months or so
a single literary work of outstanding and sustained grandeur has been
achieved anywhere. That the effect of the universal embattlement upon
the art of letters should be, in the main, extremely depressing, is
quite natural; but the conspicuous loss of breadth and poise in writers
of the first order seems less in accordance with necessity,--at least
one might expect a very superior author to rise above that necessity. In
any case it is very surprising that it should be a Belgian whose
literary personality is almost unique in having remained exempt from the
general abridgment of spiritual stature.
It is true that Maurice Maeterlinck, the most eminent literary figure in
his sadly stricken country and of unsurpassed standing among the
contemporary masters of French letters, has, since the great
catastrophe, won no new laurels as a dramatist; and that in the other
field cultivated by him, that of the essay, his productiveness has been
anything but prolific. But in his case one is inclined to interpret
reticence as an eloquent proof of a singularly heroic firmness of
character at a time when on both sides of the great divide which now
separates the peoples, the cosmopolitan trend of human advance has come
to a temporary halt, and the nations have relapsed from their
laboriously attained degree of world-citizenship into the homelier, but
more immediately virtuous, state of traditional patriotism.
It is a military necessity as | 1,768.273329 |
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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.
VOL. X, No. 289.] SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1827. [Price 2d.
Bushy Park.
[Illustration:]
Among the suburban beauties of the metropolis, and as an attraction for
home-tourists, Bushy is entitled to special notice, independent of its
celebrity as the retreat of royalty--it being the residence of _His
Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence_, an accurate portrait of whom will
be presented, to our readers with the usual _Supplementary Number_ at
the close of the present volume of the MIRROR.
_Bushy Park_ is an appendage to the palace and honour of Hampton Court;
and though far from assimilating to that splendid pile, it is better
fitted for rural enjoyment, whilst its contiguity to the metropolis
almost gives it the character of _rus in urbe_.[1] The residence is a
handsome structure, and its arrangement is altogether well calculated
for the indulgence of royal hospitality--a characteristic of its present
distinguished occupant, as well as of that glorious profession, to the
summit of which his royal highness has recently been exalted. The park,
too, is well stocked with deer, and its rangership is confided to the
duke. The pleasure grounds are tastefully disposed, and their beauty
improved by the judicious introduction of temples and other artificial
embellishments, among which, a naval temple, containing a piece of the
mast of the Victory, before which Nelson fell, and a bust of the noble
admiral, has been consecrated to his memory by the royal duke, with
devotional affection, and the best feelings of a warm heart.
[1] The Duke is a good economist of time; for what with excellent cattle
and the glory of Macadamized roads, his R.H. comes to town in the
morning, transacts his official business at the Admiralty, and
frequently returns to Bushy to dinner.
The park is a thoroughfare, and the circumstances by which this public
claim was established are worthy of record, as a specimen of the justice
with which the rights of the community are upheld in this country. The
_village Hampden_, in the present case, was one Timothy Bennet, of whom
there is a fine print, which the neighbours, who are fond of a walk in
Bushy Park, must regard with veneration. It has under it this
inscription:--"Timothy Bennet; of Hampton Wick, in Middlesex, shoemaker,
aged 75, 1752. This true Briton, (unwilling to leave the world worse
than he found it,) by a vigorous application of the laws of his country
in the cause of liberty, obtained a free passage through Bushy Park,
which had many years been withheld from the public." Regeneration (or
the renewal of souls) is, however, a shoemaker's _forte_.
The above engraving of Bushy is copied from an elegant coloured view,
drawn by Ziegler, and published by Griffiths, of Wellington-street,
Strand.
* * * * *
THE FUGITIVE.
A SCOTCH TALE.
_(For the Mirror.)_
It was now abute the gloaming when my ain same Janet (heav'n sain her
saul) was sitting sae bieldy in a bit neuk ayant the ingle, while the
winsome weans gathering around their minnie were listing till some auld
spae wife's tale o' ghaists and worriecows; when on a sudden some ane
tirled at the door pin.
"Here's your daddie, bairns," said the gudewife ganging till the door;
but i' place o' their daddie, a tall chiel wrappit i' a big cloak,
rushed like a fire flaught into the bield, and drappit doun on the
sunkie ewest the ingle droghling and coghling.
"What's your wull, friend?" said Janet, glowering on him a' i' a gliff,
"the gudeman's awa."
"Save me, save me," shrieghed the stranger, "the sleuth hounds are at my
heels."
"But wha may ye be, maister," cried the dame, "I durstna dee your
bidding while Jamie's frae the hause."
"Oh, dinna speir, dinna speir mistress," exclaimed the chiel a' in a
curfuffle, "ainly for the loe of heav'n, hide me frae the red coats
whilk are comin' belive--O God, they are here," he cried, as I entered
the shealing, and uttering a piercing skirl, he sprung till the wa', and
thrawing aff his cloak, drew his broad claymore, whilk glittered
fearsome by the low o' the ingle.
"Hauld, hauld, 'tis the gudeman his nainsell," shreighed Janet, when the
stranger drapping the point o' the sword, clingit till my hand, and
while the scauding tear draps tricklit adoun his face prigged me to fend
him.
"Tak' your certie o' that my braw callant," said I, "ne'er sail it be
tauld o' Jamie Mc-Dougall, that he steeked his door again the puir and
hauseless, an the bluidy sleuth hounds be on ye they'se find it ill
aneugh I trow to get an inkling o' ye frae me, I'se sune shaw 'em the
cauld shouther."
Sae saying, I gared him climb a rape by whilk he gat abune the riggin o'
the bield, then steeking to the door thro' whilk he gaed, I jimp had
trailed doun the rape, when in rinned twa red coat chiels, who couping
ilka ane i' their gait begun to touzle out the ben, and the de'il gaed
o'er Jock Wabster.
"Eh, sirs! eh, sirs!" cried I, "whatna gaits' that to steer a bodie, wad
ye harry a puir chiel o' a' his warldly gear, shame till ye, shame till
ye, shank yoursell's awa."
"Fusht, fusht, fallow," cried ane o' the churls, "nane o' your bourds
wi' us, or ye may like to be the waur aff; where is the faus loon? we
saw him gae doun the loaning afore the shealing, and here he maun needs
be."
"Aweel, sirs," I exclaimed, "ye see there isna ony creatur here, our
nainsell's out-taken; seek again an ye winna creed a bodie; may be the
bogle is jumpit into the pot on the rundle-tree ower the ingle, or
creepit into the meal ark or aiblins it scoupit thro' the hole as ye cam
in at the door. Ye may threep and threep and wampish your arms abute, as
muckle as ye wuss, ye silly gowks, I canna tell ye mair an I wad."
"May be the Highland tyke is right, cummer, (said one o' the red coats)
and the fallow is jumpit thro' the bole, but harkye maister gudeman, an
ye hae ony mair o' your barns-breaking wi us, ye'se get a sark fu' o'
sair banes, that's a'."
"Hear till him, hear till him, Janet," said I, as the twa southron
chiels gaed thro' the hole, trailing their bagganets alang wi' 'em;
"winna the puir tykes hae an unco saft couch o' it, think ye, luckie, O
'tis a gude sight for sair e'en to see 'em foundering and powtering i'
the latch o' the bit bog aneath."
"Nane o' your clashes e'enow, gudemon," said she, "but let the callant
abune gang his gate while he may."
"Ye're aye cute, dame," I cried, thrawing the bit gy abune, and in a
gliffing, doun jumpit the chiel, and a braw chiel he was sure enough,
siccan my auld e'en sall ne'er see again, wi' his brent brow and buirdly
bowk wrappit in a tartan plaid, wi' a Highland kilt.
"May the gude God o' heaven sain you," he said "and ferd you for aye,
for the braw deed ye hae dreed the day; tak' this wee ring, gudemon, and
tak' ye this ane, gudewife, and when ye look on this and on that, I rede
ye render up are prayer to him abune for the weal o' Charles Edward,
your unfortunate prince."
Sae speaking, he sped rath frae the bield, and was sune lost i' the
glunch shadows o' the mirk night.
Mony and mony a day has since rollit ower me, and I am now but a dour
carle, whose auld pow the roll o' time hath blanched; my bonnie Janet is
gone to her last hame, lang syne, my bairns hae a' fa'en kemping for
their king and country, and I ainly am left like a withered auld trunk,
waiting heaven's gude time when I sall be laid i' the mouls wi' my
forbears.
Abune--above.
Aiblins--perhaps.
Bagganet--bayonet.
Barns-breaking--idle frolic.
Belive--immediately.
Ben--inner apartment of a house that contains but two.
Bield--hut.
Bieldy--snug.
Bole--cottage window.
Bourds--jeers.
Brent-brow--smooth open forehead.
Buirdly-bowk--athletic frame.
Clashes--idle gossip.
Couping--overturning.
Cummer--comrade.
Curfuffle--agitation.
De'il gaed o'er Jock Wabster--everything went topsy-turvy.
Dour carle--rugged old man.
Dreed the day--done this day.
Droghling and coghling--puffing and blowing.
Ewest--nearest.
Fire flaught--flash of lightning.
Forbears--forefathers.
Fusht--tush.
Gared--made.
Gliff--fright.
Gliffing--very short time.
Gloaming--twilight.
Glowering--gazing.
Gy--rope.
Glunch--gloomy.
Harry--plunder.
Ingle--fire.
Ill--difficult.
Ilka--every.
Kemping--striving.
Laid i' the mouls--laid in the grave.
Low--flame.
Loaning--lane.
Luckie--dame.
Latch--mire.
Mirk--dark.
Out-taken--excepting.
Pow--head.
Powtering--groping.
Prigged--earnestly entreated.
Rath--quick.
Rede--pray.
Riggin--roof.
Sain--bless.
Sark fu' o' sair banes--sound beating.
Scoupit--scampered.
Shank yoursell's awa--take yourselves off.
Shealing--rude cottage.
Show 'em the cauld shouther--appear cold and reserved.
Skirl--shrill cry.
Sleuth-hounds--blood-hounds.
Speir--ask.
Steiked--shut.
Steer--injure.
Sunkie--low stool.
Threep--threaten.
Tirled at the door pin--knocked at the door.
Touzle out--ransack.
Tyke--dog.
Wampish--toss about.
Worriecows--hobgoblins.
Wuss--wish.
A G.
* * * * *
THE INDIAN MAIDEN'S SONG,
BY WILLIAM SHOBERL.
The youth I love is far away.
O'er forest, river, brake, and glen;
And distant, too, perchance the day,
When I shall see him once again.
Nine moons have wasted[1] since we met,
How sweetly, then, the moments flew!
Methinks the fairy vision yet
Portrays the joy that ZEMLA knew.
In list'ning to the tale of strife,
When Shone AZALCO'S prowess bright,
The strange adventures of his life,
That gave me such unmix'd delight.
That dream of happiness is past!
For ever fled those magic charms!
The cruel moment came at last,
That tore AZALCO from my arms!
What bitter pangs my bosom rent,
When he my sight no longer bless'd!
To some lone spot my steps I bent,
My secret sorrows there confess'd.
My sighs, alas! were breath'd unheard,
Could aught on earth dispel my grief?
Nor smiling sun, nor minstrel bird,
Can give this aching heart relief.
| 1,768.276354 |
2023-11-16 18:46:32.3540330 | 2,310 | 9 |
Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The
Internet Archive.
Transcriber's notes:
1. This book is derived from the Web Archive,
http://www.archive.org/details/weirdtales05bealgoog.
2. The oe diphthong is represented by [oe].
3. Footnote references to volume I of this work are incorporated in the
note in order to provide easier reading.
WEIRD TALES
BY
E. T. W. HOFFMANN
A NEW TRANSLATION FROM THE GERMAN
WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR
By J. T. BEALBY, B.A.
FORMERLY SCHOLAR OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II.
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1885
TROW'S
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
NEW YORK.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
PAGE
THE DOGE AND DOGESS,
MASTER MARTIN THE COOPER,
MADEMOISELLE DE SCUDERI,
GAMBLER'S LUCK,
MASTER JOHANNES WACHT,
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES,
THE DOGE AND DOGESS[1]
This was the title that distinguished in the art-catalogue of the works
exhibited by the Berlin Academy of Arts in September, 1816, a picture
which came from the brush of the skilful clever Associate of the
Academy, C. Kolbe.[2] There was such a peculiar charm in the piece that
it attracted all observers. A Doge, richly and magnificently dressed,
and a Dogess at his side, as richly adorned with jewellery, are
stepping out on to a balustered balcony; _he_ is an old man, with a
grey beard and rusty red face, his features indicating a peculiar
blending of expressions, now revealing strength, now weakness, again
pride and arrogance, and again pure good-nature; _she_ is a young
woman, with a far-away look of yearning sadness and dreamy aspiration
not only in her eyes but also in her general bearing. Behind them is an
elderly lady and a man holding an open sun-shade. At one end of the
balcony is a young man blowing a conch-shaped horn, whilst in front of
it a richly decorated gondola, bearing the Venetian flag and having two
gondoliers, is rocking on the sea. In the background stretches the sea
itself studded with hundreds and hundreds of sails, whilst the towers
and palaces of magnificent Venice are seen rising out of its waves. To
the left is Saint Mark's, to the right, more in the front, San Giorgio
Maggiore. The following words were cut in the golden frame of the
picture.
Ah! senza amare,
Andare sul mare
Col sposo del mare,
Non puo consolare.
To go on the sea
With the spouse of the sea,
When loveless I be,
Is no comfort to me.
One day there arose before this picture a fruitless altercation as to
whether the artist really intended it for anything more than a mere
picture, that is, the temporary situation, sufficiently indicated by
the verse, of a decrepit old man who with all his splendour and
magnificence is unable to satisfy the desires of a heart filled with
yearning aspirations, or whether he intended to represent an actual
historical event. One after the other the visitors left the place,
tired of the discussion, so that at length there were only two men
left, both very good friends to the noble art of painting. "I can't
understand," said one of them, "how people can spoil all their
enjoyment by eternally hunting after some jejune interpretation or
explanation. Independently of the fact that I have a pretty accurate
notion of what the relations in life between this Doge and Dogess were,
I am more particularly struck by the subdued richness and power that
characterises the picture as a whole. Look at this flag with the winged
lions, how they flutter in the breeze as if they swayed the world. O
beautiful Venice!" He began to recite Turandot's[3] riddle of Lion of
the Adriatic, "_Dimmi, qual sia quella terribil fera_," &c. He had
hardly come to the end when a sonorous masculine voice broke in with
Calaf's[4] solution, "_Tu quadrupede fera_," &c. Unobserved by the
friends, a man of tall and noble appearance, his grey mantle thrown
picturesquely across his shoulder, had taken up a position behind them,
and was examining the picture with sparkling eyes. They got into
conversation, and the stranger said almost in atone of solemnity, "It
is indeed a singular mystery, how a picture often arises in the mind of
an artist, the figures of which, previously indistinguishable,
incorporate mist driving about in empty space, first seem to shape
themselves into vitality in his mind, and there seem to find their
home. Suddenly the picture connects itself with the past, or even with
the future, representing something that has really happened or that
will happen. Perhaps it was not known to Kolbe himself that the persons
he was representing in this picture are none other than the Doge Marino
Falieri[5] and his lady Annunciata."
The stranger paused, but the two friends urgently entreated him to
solve for them this riddle as he had solved that of the Lion of the
Adriatic. Whereupon he replied, "If you have patience, my inquisitive
sirs, I will at once explain the picture to you by telling you
Falieri's history. But have you patience? I shall be very
circumstantial, for I cannot speak otherwise of things which stand so
life-like before my eyes that I seem to have seen them myself. And that
may very well be the case, for all historians--amongst whom I happen to
be one--are properly a kind of talking ghost of past ages."
The friends accompanied the stranger into a retired room, when, without
further preamble, he began as follows:--
It is now a long time ago, and if I mistake not, it was in the month of
August, 1354, that the valiant Genoese captain, Paganino Doria[6] by
name, utterly routed the Venetians and took their town of Parenzo. And
his well-manned galleys were now cruising backwards and forwards in the
Lagune, close in front of Venice, like ravenous beasts of prey which,
goaded by hunger, roam restlessly up and down spying out where they may
most safely pounce upon their victims; and both people and seignory
were panic-stricken with fear. All the male population, liable to
military service, and everybody who could lift an arm, flew to their
weapons or seized an oar. The harbour of Saint Nicholas was the
gathering-place for the bands. Ships and trees were sunk, and chains
riveted to chains, to lock the harbour-mouth against the enemy. Whilst
there was heard the rattle of arms and the wild tumult of preparation,
and whilst the ponderous masses thundered down into the foaming sea, on
the Rialto the agents of the seignory were wiping the cold sweat from
their pale brows, and with troubled countenances and hoarse voices
offering almost fabulous percentage for ready money, for the straitened
republic was in want of this necessary also. Moreover, it was
determined by the inscrutable decree of Providence that just at this
period of extreme distress and anxiety, the faithful shepherd should be
taken away from his troubled flock. Completely borne down by the burden
of the public calamity, the Doge Andrea Dandolo[7] died; the people
called him the "dear good count" (_il caro contino_), because he was
always cordial and kind, and never crossed Saint Mark's Square without
speaking a word of comfort to those in need of good advice, or giving a
few sequins[8] to those who were in want of money. And as every blow is
wont to fall with double sharpness upon those who are discouraged by
misfortune, when at other times they would hardly have felt it at all,
so now, when the people heard the bells of Saint Mark's proclaim in
solemn muffled tones the death of their Duke, they were utterly undone
with sorrow and grief. Their support, their hope, was now gone, and
they would have to bend their necks to the Genoese yoke, they cried, in
despite of the fact that Dandolo's loss did not seem to have any very
counteractive effect upon the progress that was being made with all
necessary warlike preparations. The "dear good count" had loved to live
in peace and quietness, preferring to follow the wondrous courses of
the stars rather than the problematical complications of state policy;
he understood how to arrange a procession on Easter Day better than how
to lead an army.
The object now was to elect a Doge who, endowed at one and the same
time with the valour and genius of a war captain, and with skill in
statecraft, should save Venice, now tottering on her foundations, from
the threatening power of her bold and ever-bolder enemy. But when the
senators assembled there was none but what had a gloomy face, hopeless
looks, and head bent earthwards and resting on his supporting hand.
Where were they to find a man who could seize the unguided helm and
direct the bark of the state aright? At last the oldest of the
councillors, called Marino Bodoeri, lifted up his voice and said, "You
will not find him here around us, or amongst us; direct your eyes to
Avignon, upon Marino Falieri, whom we sent to congratulate Pope
Innocent[9] on his elevation to the Papal dignity; he can find better
work to do now; he's the man for us; let us choose him Doge to stem
this current of adversity. You will urge by way of objection that he is
now almost eighty years old, that his hair and beard are white as
silver, that his blithe appearance, fiery eye, and the deep red of his
nose and cheeks are to be ascribed, as his traducers maintain | 1,768.374073 |
2023-11-16 18:46:32.3548530 | 16 | 12 |
E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed | 1,768.374893 |
2023-11-16 18:46:32.6630650 | 1,348 | 39 |
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Leonard D Johnson and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.
[Illustration: TOWER OF LA FUERZA
_Havana_]
CUBA
OLD AND NEW
BY
ALBERT G. ROBINSON
1915.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. OLD CUBA
II. NEW CUBA
III. THE COUNTRY
IV. THE OLD HAVANA
V. THE NEW HAVANA
VI. AROUND THE ISLAND
VII. AROUND THE ISLAND (_Continued_)
VIII. THE UNITED STATES AND CUBA
IX. CUBA'S REVOLUTIONS
X. INDEPENDENCE
XI. FILIBUSTERING
XII. THE STORY OF SUGAR
XIII. VARIOUS PRODUCTS AND INDUSTRIES
XIV. POLITICS, GOVERNMENT, AND COMMERCE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Tower of La Fuerza, Havana
The Morro, Havana
A Planter's Home, Havana Province
Iron Grille Gateway, El Vedado, suburb of Havana
Watering Herd of Cattle, Luyano River, near Havaria
Royal Palms
Custom House, Havana
Balconies, Old Havana
Street in Havana
Street and Church of the Angels, Havana
A Residence in El Vedado
The Volante (now quite rare)
A Village Street, Calvario, Havana Province
Street and Church, Camaguey
Cobre, Oriente Province
Hoisting the Cuban Flag over the Palace, May 20,1902
A Spanish Block House
Along the Harbor Wall, Havana
Country Road, Havana Province
Street in Camaguey
Palm-Thatched Roofs
A Peasant's Home
CUBA
OLD AND NEW
I
_OLD CUBA_
Christopher Columbus was a man of lively imagination. Had he been an
ordinary, prosaic and plodding individual, he would have stayed at home
combing wool as did his prosaic and plodding ancestors for several
generations. At the age of fourteen he went to sea and soon developed an
active curiosity about regions then unknown but believed to exist. There
was even then some knowledge of western Asia, and even of China as
approached from the west. Two and two being properly put together, the
result was a reasonable argument that China and India could be reached from
the other direction, that is, by going westward instead of eastward.
In the early autumn of the year 1492, Columbus was busy discovering islands
in the Caribbean Sea region, and, incidentally, seeking for the richest
of the group. From dwellers on other islands, he heard of one, called
Cubanacan, larger and richer than any that he had then discovered. A
mixture of those tales with his own vivid imagination produced a belief
in a country of wide extent, vastly rich in gold and gems, and already a
centre of an extensive commerce. Cruising in search of what he believed to
be the eastern coast of Asia, he sighted the shore of Cuba on the morning
of October 28, 1492. His journal, under date of October 24, states: "At
midnight I tripped my anchors off this _Cabo del Isleo de Isabella_, where
I was pitched to go to the island of Cuba, which I learn from these people
is very large and magnificent, and there are gold and spices in it, and
large ships and merchants. And so I think it must be the island of Cipango
(Japan), of which they tell such wonders." The record, under date of
Sunday, 28th of October, states: "Continued for the nearest land of Cuba,
and entered a beautiful estuary, clear of rocks and other dangers. The
mouth of the estuary had twelve fathoms depth, and it was wide enough for a
ship to work into." Students have disagreed regarding the first Cuban port
entered by Columbus. There is general acceptance of October 28 as the
date of arrival. Some contend that on that day he entered Nipe Bay, while
others, and apparently the greater number, locate the spot somewhat to the
west of Nuevitas. Wherever he first landed on it, there is agreement that
he called the island Juana, in honor of Prince Juan, taking possession "in
the name of Christ, Our Lady, and the reigning Sovereigns of Spain."
His record of the landing place is obscure. It is known that he sailed some
leagues beyond it, to the westward. While on board his caravel, on his
homeward voyage, he wrote a letter to his friend, Don Rafael Sanchez,
"Treasurer of their most Serene Highnesses," in which the experience is
described. The original letter is lost, but it was translated into Latin
and published in Barcelona in the following year, 1493. While the Latin
form is variously translated into English, the general tenor of all is the
same. He wrote: "When I arrived at Juana (Cuba), I sailed along the coast
to the west, discovering so great an extent of land that I could not
imagine it to be an island, but the continent of Cathay. I did not,
however, discover upon the coast any large cities, all we saw being a few
villages and farms, with the inhabitants of which we could not obtain any
communication, they flying at our approach. I continued my course, still
expecting to meet with some town or city, but after having gone a great
distance and not meeting with any, and finding myself proceeding toward
the north, which I was desirous, to avoid on account of the cold, and,
moreover, meeting with a contrary wind, I determined to return to the
south, and therefore put about and sailed back to a harbor which I had
before observed." That the actual landing was at or near the present port
of Nuevitas seems to be generally accepted.
Columbus appears to have been greatly impressed by the beauty of the
island. In his _Life of Columbus_, Washington Irving says: "From his
continual remarks on the beauty of scenery, and from his evident delight | 1,768.683105 |
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THE WEAVERS
By Gilbert Parker
CONTENTS
BOOK I
I. AS THE SPIRIT MOVED
II. THE GATES OF THE WORLD
III. BANISHED
IV. THE CALL
BOOK II
V. THE WIDER WAY
VI. "HAST THOU NEVER BILLED A MANY"
VII. THE COMPACT
VIII. FOR HIS SOUL'S SAKE AND THE LAND'S SAKE
IX. THE LETTER, THE NIGHT, AND THE WOM | 1,769.073317 |
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from scans of public domain works at the
University of Michigan's Making of America collection.)
HARPER'S
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
VOLUME V.
JUNE TO NOVEMBER, 1852.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
329 & 331 PEARL STREET,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
MDCCCLII.
ADVERTISEMENT.
HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE closes its Fifth Semi-annual Volume with
a circulation of more than One Hundred Thousand copies. The Publishers
have spared neither labor nor expense to render it the most attractive
Magazine of General Literature ever offered to the public; and they
confidently present this Volume as evidence that their efforts to add
to the value and interest of the work have kept pace with the increase
of its circulation.
Special arrangements have been made, and will continue to be made,
to render the next Volume still more worthy of public favor than its
predecessor has been. The abundant facilities at the command of the
Publishers insure an unlimited field for the choice and selection
of material, while the ample space within the pages of the Magazine
enables the Editors to present matter suited to every variety of taste
and mood of the reading community. The Pictorial Illustrations will
maintain the attractive and varied character by which they have been
heretofore distinguished, while their number will be still farther
increased.
In the general conduct and scope of the Magazine no change is
contemplated. Each Number will contain as hitherto:
_First._--ORIGINAL ARTICLES by popular American authors, illustrated,
whenever the subject demands, by wood-cuts executed in the best style
of the art.
_Second._--SELECTIONS from the current literature of the day, whether
in the form of articles from foreign periodicals or extracts from new
books of special interest. This department will include such serial
tales by the leading authors of the time, as may be deemed of peculiar
interest; but these will not be suffered to interfere with a due degree
of variety in the contents of the Magazine.
_Third._--A MONTHLY RECORD, presenting an impartial condensed and
classified history of the current events of the times.
_Fourth._--An EDITOR'S TABLE, devoted to the careful and elaborate
discussion of the higher questions of principles and ethics.
_Fifth._--An EDITOR'S EASY CHAIR and DRAWER, containing literary
and general gossip, the chat of town and country, anecdotes and
reminiscences, wit and humor, sentiment and pathos, and whatever, in
general, belongs to an agreeable and entertaining miscellany.
_Sixth._--CRITICAL NOTICES of all the leading books of the day. These
will present a fair and candid estimate of the character and value of
the works continually brought before the public.
_Seventh._--LITERARY INTELLIGENCE, concerning books, authors, art, and
whatever is of special interest to cultivated readers.
_Eighth._--PICTORIAL COMICALITIES, in which wit and humor will be
addressed to the eye; and affectations, follies, and vice, chastised
and corrected. The most scrupulous care will be exercised that in this
department humor shall not pass into vulgarity, or satire degenerate
into abuse.
_Ninth._--THE FASHIONS appropriate for the season, with notices of
whatever novelties in material or design may make their appearance.
The Publishers here renew the expression of their thanks to the Press
and the Public in general, for the favor which has been accorded to the
New Monthly Magazine, and solicit such continuance of that favor as the
merits of the successive Numbers may deserve.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME V.
All Baggage at the Risk of the Owner 334
A Duel in 1830 399
A Dull Town 179
Animal Mechanics 524
A Possible Event 786
A Primitive People 111
Armory at Springfield. By JACOB ABBOTT. 145
Auld Robin Gray--a Ballad 1
A Terribly Strange Bed 202
Bleak House. By CHARLES DICKENS. 7, 229, 358, 505, 638, 791
British Museum and Zoological Gardens By FREDRIKA BREMER 201
Celebrated French Clockmaker 86
Church of the Cup of Cold Water 34
COMICAL | 1,769.273272 |
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BURKE'S SPEECH
ON
CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA
By Edmond Burke
Edited With Introduction And Notes By Sidney Carleton Newsom
Teacher Of English, Manual Training High School Indianapolis, Indiana
PREFACE
The introduction to this edition of Burke's speech on Conciliation with
America is intended to supply the needs of those students who do not
have access to a well-stocked library, or who, for any reason,
are unable to do the collateral reading necessary for a complete
understanding of the text.
The sources from which information has been drawn in preparing this
edition are mentioned under "Bibliography." The editor wishes to
acknowledge indebtedness to many of the excellent older editions of
the speech, and also to Mr. A. P. Winston, of the Manual Training High
School, for valuable suggestions.
CONTENTS
POLITICAL SITUATION
EDMUND BURKE
BURKE AS A STATESMAN
BURKE IN LITERATURE
TOPICS FOR SPECIAL REPORTS
BIBLIOGRAPHY
SPEECH ON CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA
NOTES
INDEX
INTRODUCTION
POLITICAL SITUATION
In 1651 originated the policy which caused the American Revolution.
That policy was one of taxation, indirect, it is true, but none the less
taxation. The first Navigation Act required that colonial exports should
be shipped to England in American or English vessels. This was followed
by a long series of acts, regulating and restricting the American trade.
Colonists were not allowed to exchange certain articles without
paying duties thereon, and custom houses were established and officers
appointed. Opposition to these proceedings was ineffectual; and in 1696,
in order to expedite the business of taxation, and to establish a better
method of ruling the colonies, a board was appointed, called the Lords
Commissioners for Trade and Plantations. The royal governors found
in this board ready sympathizers, and were not slow to report their
grievances, and to insist upon more stringent regulations for enforcing
obedience. Some of the retaliative measures employed were the suspension
of the writ of habeas corpus, the abridgment of the freedom of the press
and the prohibition of elections. But the colonists generally succeeded
in having their own way in the end, and were not wholly without
encouragement and sympathy in the English Parliament. It may be that
the war with France, which ended with the fall of Quebec, had much to do
with this rather generous treatment. The Americans, too, were favored by
the Whigs, who had been in power for more than seventy years. The policy
of this great party was not opposed to the sentiments and ideas of
political freedom that had grown up in the colonies; and, although more
than half of the Navigation Acts were passed by Whig governments, the
leaders had known how to wink at the violation of nearly all of them.
Immediately after the close of the French war, and after George III. had
ascended the throne of England, it was decided to enforce the Navigation
Acts rigidly. There was to be no more smuggling, and, to prevent this,
Writs of Assistance were issued. Armed with such authority, a servant of
the king might enter the home of any citizen, and make a thorough search
for smuggled goods. It is needless to say the measure was resisted
vigorously, and its reception by the colonists, and its effect upon
them, has been called the opening scene of the American Revolution. As a
matter of fact, this sudden change in the attitude of England toward the
colonies, marks the beginning of the policy of George III. which, had it
been successful, would have made him the ruler of an absolute instead
of a limited monarchy. He hated the Tories only less than the Whigs,
and when he bestowed a favor upon either, it was for the purpose of
weakening the other. The first task he set himself was that of crushing
the Whigs. Since the Revolution of 1688, they had dictated the policy of
the English government, and through wise leaders had become supreme
in authority. They were particularly obnoxious to him because of their
republican spirit, and he regarded their ascendency as a constant menace
to his kingly power. Fortune seemed to favor him in the dissensions
which arose. There grew up two factions in the Whig party. There were
old Whigs and new Whigs. George played one against the other, advanced
his favorites when opportunity offered, and in the end succeeded in
forming a ministry composed of his friends and obedient to his will.
With the ministry safely in hand, he turned his attention to the House
of Commons. The old Whigs had set an example, which George was shrewd
enough to follow. Walpole and Newcastle had succeeded in giving England
one of the most peaceful and prosperous governments within in the
previous history of the nation, but their methods were corrupt. With
much of the judgment, penetration and wise forbearance which marks a
statesman, Walpole's distinctive qualities of mind eminently fitted
him for political intrigue; Newcastle was still worse, and has the
distinction of being the premier under whose administration the revolt
against official corruption first received the support of the public.
For near a hundred years, the territorial distribution of seats in the
House had remained the same, while the centres of population had shifted
along with those of trade and new industries. Great towns were without
representation, while boroughs, such as Old Sarum, without a single
voter, still claimed, and had, a seat in Parliament. Such districts,
or "rotten boroughs," were owned and controlled by many of the great
landowners. Both Walpole and Newcastle resorted to the outright purchase
of these seats, and when the time came George did not shrink from doing
the same thing. He went even further. All preferments of whatsoever sort
were bestowed upon those who would do his bidding, and the business
of bribery assumed such proportions that an office was opened at the
Treasury for this purpose, from which twenty-five thousand pounds are
said to have passed in a single day. Parliament had been for a long
time only partially representative of the people; it now ceased to be so
almost completely.
With, the support which such methods secured, along with encouragement
from his ministers, the king was prepared to put in operation his policy
for regulating the affairs of America. Writs of Assistance (1761) were
followed by the passage of the Stamp Act (1765). The ostensible object
of both these measures was to help pay the debt incurred by the French
war, but the real purpose lay deeper, and was nothing more or less than
the ultimate extension of parliamentary rule, in great things as well as
small, to America. At this crisis, so momentous for the colonists, the
Rockingham ministry was formed, and Burke, together with Pitt, supported
a motion for the unconditional repeal of the Stamp Act. After much
wrangling, the motion was carried, and the first blunder of the mother
country seemed to have been smoothed over.
Only a few months elapsed, however, when the question of taxing the
colonies was revived. Pitt lay ill, and could take no part in the
proposed measure. Through the influence of other members of his
party,--notably Townshend,--a series of acts were passed, imposing
duties on several exports to America. This was followed by a suspension
of the New York Assembly, because it had disregarded instructions in the
matter of supplies for the troops. The colonists were furious. Matters
went from bad to worse. To withdraw as far as possible without yielding
the principle at stake, the duties on all the exports mentioned in
the bill were removed, except that on tea. But it was precisely the
principle for which the colonists were contending. They were not in the
humor for compromise, when they believed their freedom was endangered,
and the strength and determination of their resistance found a climax in
the Boston Tea Party.
In the meantime, Lord North, who was absolutely obedient to the king,
had become prime minister. Five bills were prepared, the tenor of which,
it was thought, would overawe the colonists. Of these, the Boston Port
Bill and the Regulating Act are perhaps the most famous, though the
ultimate tendency of all was blindly coercive.
While the king and his friends were busy with these, the opposition
proposed an unconditional repeal of the Tea Act. The bill was introduced
only to be overwhelmingly defeated by the same Parliament that passed
the five measures of Lord North.
In America, the effect of these proceedings was such as might have been
expected by thinking men. The colonies were as a unit in their support
of Massachusetts. The Regulating Act was set at defiance, public
officers in the king's service were forced to resign, town meetings
were held, and preparations for war were begun in dead earnest. To avert
this, some of England's greatest statesmen--Pitt among the number--asked
for a reconsideration. On February the first, 1775, a bill was
introduced, which would have gone far toward bringing peace. One month
later, Burke delivered his speech on Conciliation with the Colonies.
EDMUND BURKE
There is nothing unusual in Burke's early life. He was born in Dublin,
Ireland, in 1729. His father was a successful lawyer and a Protestant,
his mother, a Catholic. At the age of twelve, he became a pupil of
Abraham Shackleton, a Quaker, who had been teaching some fifteen years
at Ballitore, a small town thirty miles from Dublin. In after years
Burke was always pleased to speak of his old friend in the kindest way:
"If I am anything," he declares, "it is the education I had there that
has made me so." And again at Shackleton's death, when Burke was near
the zenith of his fame and popularity, he writes: "I had a true
honor and affection for that excellent man. I feel something like a
satisfaction in the midst of my concern, that I was fortunate enough to
have him under my roof before his departure." It can hardly be doubted
that the old Quaker schoolmaster succeeded with his pupil who was
already so favorably inclined, and it is more than probable that the
daily example of one who lived out his precepts was strong in its
influence upon a young and generous mind.
Burke attended school at Ballitore two years; then, at the age of
fourteen, he became a student at Trinity College, Dublin, and remained
there five years. At college he was unsystematic and careless of
routine. He seems to have done pretty much as he pleased, and, however
methodical he became in after life, his study during these five years
was rambling and spasmodic. The only definite knowledge we have of this
period is given by Burke himself in letters to his former friend Richard
Shackleton, son of his old schoolmaster. What he did was done with a
zest that at times became a feverish impatience: "First I was greatly
taken with natural philosophy, which, while I should have given my mind
to logic, employed me incessantly. This I call my FUROR MATHEMATICUS."
Following in succession come his FUROR LOGICUS, FUROR HISTORICUS, and
FUROR PEOTICUS, each of which absorbed him for the time being. It would
be wrong, however, to think of Burke as a trifler even in his youth. He
read in the library three hours every day and we may be sure he read as
intelligently as eagerly. It is more than probable that like a few other
great minds he did not need a rigid system to guide him. If he chose
his subjects of study at pleasure, there is every reason to believe he
mastered them.
Of intimate friends at the University we hear nothing. Goldsmith came
one year later, but there is no evidence that they knew each other. It
is probable that Burke, always reserved, had little in common with his
young associates. His own musings, with occasional attempts at writing
poetry, long walks through the country, and frequent letters to and from
Richard Shackleton, employed him when not at his books.
Two years after taking his degree, Burke went to London and established
himself at the Middle Temple for the usual routine course in law.
Another long period passes of which there is next to nothing known.
His father, an irascible, hot-tempered man, had wished him to begin the
practice of law, but Burke seems to have continued in a rather irregular
way pretty much as when an undergraduate at Dublin. His inclinations
were not toward the law, but literature. His father, angered at such a
turn of affairs, promptly reduced his allowance and left him to follow
his natural bent in perfect freedom. In 1756, six years after his
arrival in London, and almost immediately following the rupture with his
father, he married a Miss Nugent. At about the same time he published
his first two books, [Footnote: A Vindication of Natural Society and
Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and
Beautiful] and began in earnest the life of an author.
He attracted the attention of literary men. Dr. Johnson had just
completed his famous dictionary, and was the centre of a group of
writers who accepted him at his own valuation. Burke did not want for
company, and wrote copiously.[Footnote: Hints for an Essay on the
Drama. Abridgement of the History of England] He became associated with
Dodsley, a bookseller, who began publishing the Annual Register in 1759,
and was paid a hundred pounds a year for writing upon current events.
He spent two years (1761-63) in Ireland in the employment of William
Hamilton, but at the end of that time returned, chagrined and disgusted
with his would-be patron, who utterly failed to recognize Burke's worth,
and persisted in the most unreasonable demands upon his time and energy.
For once Burke's independence served him well. In 1765 Lord Rockingham
became prime minister, and Burke, widely known as the chief writer
for the Annual Register, was free to accept the position of private
secretary, which Lord Rockingham was glad to offer him. His services
here were invaluable. The new relations thus established did not end
with the performance of the immediate duties of his office, but a warm
friendship grew up between the two, which lasted till the death of Lord
Rockingham. While yet private secretary, Burke was elected to Parliament
from the borough of Wendover. It was through the influence of his
friend, or perhaps relative, William Burke, that his election was
secured.
Only a few days after taking his seat in the House of Commons, Burke
made his first speech, January 27, 1766. He followed this in a very
short time with another upon the same subject--the Taxation of the
American Colonies. Notwithstanding the great honor and distinction which
these first speeches brought Burke, his party was dismissed at the close
of the session and the Chatham ministry formed. He remained with his
friends, and employed himself in refuting [Footnote: Observations on the
Present State of the Nation] the charges of the former minister, George
Grenville, who wrote a pamphlet accusing his successors of gross neglect
of public duties.
At this point in his life comes the much-discussed matter of
Beaconsfield. How Burke became rich enough to purchase such expensive
property is a question that has never been answered by his friends or
enemies. There are mysterious hints of successful speculation in East
India stock, of money borrowed, and Burke himself, in a letter to
Shackleton, speaks of aid from his friends and "all [the money] he
could collect of his own." However much we may regret the air of mystery
surrounding the matter, and the opportunity given those ever ready to
smirch a great man's character, it is not probable that any one ever
really doubted Burke's integrity in this or any other transaction.
Perhaps the true explanation of his seemingly reckless extravagance (if
any explanation is needed) is that the conventional standards of his
time forced it upon him; and it may be that Burke himself sympathized
to some extent with these standards, and felt a certain satisfaction in
maintaining a proper attitude before the public.
The celebrated case of Wilkes offered an opportunity for discussing
the narrow and corrupt policy pursued by George III. and his followers.
Wilkes, outlawed for libel and protected in the meantime through legal
technicalities, was returned to Parliament by Middlesex. The House
expelled him. He was repeatedly elected and as many times expelled, and
finally the returns were altered, the House voting its approval by a
large majority. In 1770 Burke published his pamphlet [Footnote: Present
Discontents] in which he discussed the situation. For the first time he
showed the full sweep and breadth of his understanding. His tract was
in the interest of his party, but it was written in a spirit far removed
from narrow partisanship. He pointed out with absolute clearness the
cause of dissatisfaction and unrest among the people and charged George
III. and his councillors with gross indifference to the welfare of the
nation and corresponding devotion to selfish interests. He contended
that Parliament was usurping privileges when it presumed to expel any
one, that the people had a right to send whomsoever they pleased to
Parliament, and finally that "in all disputes between them and their
rulers, the presumption was at least upon a par in favor of the
people." From this time until the American Revolution, Burke used every
opportunity to den | 1,769.477172 |
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 147.
September 23, 1914.
* * * * *
Illustration: THE ALIEN.
_Chorus._ "BOO! 'OO KISSED 'ER 'AND TO THE KAISER LARST TIME 'E COME
OVER? YAR! BLOOMIN' GERMAN!"
* * * * *
CHARIVARIA.
The KAISER, we are told, travels with an asbestos hut. We fancy,
however, that it is not during his lifetime that the most pressing need
for a fire-proof shelter will arise.
* * *
"The Germans," said one of our experts last week, "are retreating to
what looks like a bottle-neck exit." Their fondness for the bottle is,
of course, well known and may yet be their undoing.
* * *
_The Times_, one day, gave a map showing "The Line of Battle in
Champagne." It was, as might have been expected, a very wobbly line.
* * *
A somewhat illiterate correspondent writes to say that he considers that
the French ought to have allowed the Mad Dog to retain Looneyville.
* * *
The German papers publish the statement that a Breslau merchant has
offered 30,000 marks to the German soldier who, weapon in hand, shall be
the first to place his feet on British soil. By a characteristic piece
of sharp practice the reward, it will be noted, is offered to the man
personally and would not be payable to his next of kin.
* * *
With one exception all goods hitherto manufactured in Germany can be
made just as well here. The exception is Lies.
* * *
We have been requested to deny the rumour that Mr. A. C. BENSON'S
forthcoming Christmas book is to be a Eulogy of German Culture and is to
bear the title, _Some Broken Panes From a College Window_ (_in
Louvain_).
* * *
A Corps of Artists for Home Defence is being formed, and the painter
members are said to be longing for a brush with the enemy.
* * *
Cases have been brought to our notice by racing men of betting news
having been delayed on more than one occasion owing to the wires being
required for war purposes. We are confident that if a protest were made
to Lord KITCHENER he would look very closely into the matter.
* * *
Another item reaches us from the dear old village of Pufflecombe this
week. The oldest inhabitant met a stranger. "'Scuse me, Zur," he said,
"but be you from Lunnon town?" The visitor nodded. "Then maybe, Zur,"
said the rustic, "you can tell me if it be true, as I have heerd tell,
that relations 'tween England and Germany be strained?"
* * * * *
"If every man and woman in the country were mated, the number of
men who would still remain bachelors would more than equal the
entire population."--_Daily News._
The Press Bureau cannot guarantee the truth of this.
* * * * *
Germans on board, who were arrested, stated that reports circulated
in Hamburg declared that the British troops had been annihilated
and Paris was in flames.
"Sixty-two British ships lie at Hamburg."
They must have caught it from the Germans.
* * * * *
PROBATION.
(_To a King's Recruit._)
Now is your time of trial, now
When into dusk the glamour pales
And the first glow of passion fails
That lit your eyes and flushed your brow
In that great moment when you made your vow.
The Vision fades; you scarce recall
The sudden swelling of the heart,
The swift resolve to have your part
In this the noblest quest of all
By which our word is given to stand or fall.
Your mother's pride, your comrades' praise--
All that romance that seemed so fair
Grows dim, and you are left to bear
The prose of duty's sombre ways
And labour of the long unlovely days.
Yet here's the test to prove you kin
With those to whom we trust our fate,
Sober and steadfast, clean and straight,
In that stern school of discipline
Hardened to war against the foe within.
For only so, in England's sight,
By that ordeal's searching flame
Found worthy of your fathers' fame,
With all your spirit's armour bright
Can you go forth in her dear cause to fight.
O. S.
* * * * *
UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.
No. 1.
(_From Herr Von Bethmann Hollweg._)
MAJESTY,--Though you will never receive this letter, I feel that I must
write it if only to relieve my mind of an intolerable burden. There is
no doubt about it, things are not going well with us, and we shall soon
be in a situation of a most deplorable kind. Our armies have been driven
back in France--this is what VON STEIN means when he declares that we
have had "partial successes"--and Paris, which was to be captured weeks
ago, seems to be as strong and as defiant as ever. The English are still
unbroken and are pouring new armies into France. In Galicia the wretched
Austrians are running like sheep; even Servia has beaten them and is
invading Hungary and Bosnia; and our wonderful fleet, which cost so much
good money, is bottled up. Soon we shall have the Cossacks on our backs,
and then the dance will begin in earnest.
But you don | 1,769.773522 |
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[Illustration: _"Why it_ is, _a large fried egg," said Billy,
excitedly_.--Page 47. Frontispiece.]
BILLY BOUNCE
by
W. W. DENSLOW and DUDLEY A. BRAGDON
Pictures by Denslow
G. W. Dillingham Co.
Publishers New York
Copyright 1906 by W. W. Denslow
All rights reserved.
Issued September, 1906.
To
"Pete" and "Ponsie"
List of Chapters.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. DARK PLOT OF NICKEL PLATE, THE POLISHED
VILLAIN 9
II. A JUMP TO SHAMVILLE 22
III. BILLY IS CAPTURED BY TOMATO 34
IV. ADVENTURES IN EGGS-AGGERATION 47
V. PEASE PORRIDGE HOT 63
VI. BLIND MAN'S BUFF 77
VII. THE WISHING BOTTLE 88
VIII. GAMMON AND SPINACH 97
IX. IN SILLY LAND 110
X. SEA URCHIN AND NE'ER DO EEL 124
XI. IN DERBY TOWN 138
XII. O'FUDGE 152
XIII. BILLY PLAYS A TRICK ON BOREA 167
XIV. KING CALCIUM AND STERRY OPTICAN 181
XV. BILLY MEETS GLUCOSE 195
XVI. IN SPOOKVILLE 210
XVII. IN THE VOLCANO OF VOCIFEROUS 221
XVIII. THE ELUSIVE BRIDGE 236
XIX. IN THE DARK, NEVER WAS 247
XX. THE WINDOW OF FEAR 257
XXI. IN THE QUEEN BEE PALACE 267
Full Page Illustrations
"_Why it_ is, _a large fried egg," said Billy, excitedly_.
--Page 47....Frontispiece.
PAGE
"I _can't tell you where Bogie Man lives, it's against the rules_." 14
_"Now," said Mr. Gas, "be careful not to sit on the ceiling."_ 17
"_Come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce._" 39
_Billy never wanted for plenty to eat._ 64
_"He-he-ho-ho, oh! what a joke," cried the Scally Wags._ 82
_"That's my black cat-o-nine tails," said the old woman._ 90
_The Night Mare and the Dream Food Sprites._ 101
_"Get off, you're sinking us," cried Billy._ 134
_He saw flying to meet him several shaggy bears._ 141
_"Talking about me, were you?" said Boreas, arriving in a swirl of
snow._ 172
_"Me feyther," cried she, in a tragic voice, "the light, the
light."_ 187
"_Come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening._" 217
_Billy shot a blast of hot air from his pump full in Bumbus's face._ 263
"_Allow me to present Bogie Man._" 271
Preface
OUR PURPOSE.--Fun for the "children between the ages of one and one
hundred."
AND INCIDENTALLY--the elimination of deceit and gore in the telling:
two elements that enter, we think, too vitally into the construction of
most fairy tales.
AS TO THE MORAL.--That is not obtrusive. But if we can suggest to the
children that fear alone can harm them through life's journey; and to
silly nurses and thoughtless parents that the serious use of ghost
stories, Bogie Men and Bugbears of all kinds for the sheer purpose of
frightening or making a child mind is positively wicked; we will admit
that the tale has a moral.
CHAPTER I.
DARK PLOT OF NICKEL PLATE, THE POLISHED VILLAIN.
Nickel Plate, the polished Villain, sat in his office in the North
South corner of the first straight turning to the left of the Castle in
Plotville.
"Gadzooks," exclaimed he with a heavy frown, "likewise Pish Tush!
Methinks I grow rusty--it is indeed a sad world when a real villain
is reduced to chewing his moust | 1,769.875962 |
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Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE SPOILERS
By REX BEACH
Author of "THE AUCTION BLOCK" "RAINBOW'S END" "THE IRON TRAIL" Etc.
Illustrated
THIS BOOK
IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO
MY MOTHER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE ENCOUNTER
II. THE STOWAWAY
III. IN WHICH GLENISTER ERRS
IV. THE KILLING
V. WHEREIN A MAN APPEARS
VI. AND A MINE IS JUMPED
VII. THE "BRONCO KID'S" EAVESDROPPING
VIII. DEXTRY MAKES A CALL
IX. SLUICE ROBBERS
X. THE WIT OF AN ADVENTURESS
XI. WHEREIN A WRIT AND A RIOT FAIL
XII. COUNTERPLOTS
XIII. IN WHICH A MAN IS POSSESSED OF A DEVIL
XIV. A MIDNIGHT MESSENGER
XV. VIGILANTES
XVI. IN WHICH THE TRUTH BEGINS TO BARE ITSELF
XVII. THE DRIP OF WATER IN THE DARK
XVIII. WHEREIN A TRAP IS BAITED
XIX. DYNAMITE
XX. IN WHICH THREE GO TO THE SIGN OF THE SLED AND BUT TWO RETURN
XXI. THE HAMMER-LOCK
XXII. THE PROMISE OF DREAMS
CHAPTER I
THE ENCOUNTER
Glenister gazed out over the harbor, agleam with the lights of anchored
ships, then up at the crenelated mountains, black against the sky. He
drank the cool air burdened with its taints of the sea, while the blood
of his boyhood leaped within him.
"Oh, it's fine--fine," he murmured, "and this is my country--my
country, after all, Dex. It's in my veins, this hunger for the North. I
grow. I expand."
"Careful you don't bust," warned Dextry. "I've seen men get plumb drunk
on mountain air. Don't expand too strong in one spot." He went back
abruptly to his pipe, its villanous fumes promptly averting any danger
of the air's too tonic quality.
"Gad! What a smudge!" sniffed the younger man. "You ought to be in
quarantine."
"I'd ruther smell like a man than talk like a kid. You desecrate the
hour of meditation with rhapsodies on nature when your aesthetics ain't
honed up to the beauties of good tobacco."
The other laughed, inflating his deep chest. In the gloom he stretched
his muscles restlessly, as though an excess of vigor filled him.
They were lounging upon the dock, while before them lay the Santa Maria
ready for her midnight sailing. Behind slept Unalaska, quaint, antique,
and Russian, rusting amid the fogs of Bering Sea. Where, a week before,
mild-eyed natives had dried their cod among the old bronze cannon, now
a frenzied horde of gold-seekers paused in their rush to the new El
Dorado. They had come like a locust cloud, thousands strong, settling
on the edge of the Smoky Sea, waiting the going of the ice that barred
them from their Golden Fleece--from Nome the new, where men found
fortune in a night.
The mossy hills back of the village were ridged with graves of those
who had died on the out-trip the fall before, when a plague had gripped
the land--but what of that? Gold glittered in the sands, so said the
survivors; therefore men came in armies. Glenister and Dextry had left
Nome the autumn previous, the young man raving with fever. Now they
returned to their own land.
"This air whets every animal instinct in me," Glenister broke out
again. "Away from the cities I turn savage. I feel the old primitive
passions--the fret for fighting."
"Mebbe you'll have a chance."
"How so?"
"Well, it's this way. I met Mexico Mullins this mornin'. You mind old
Mexico, don't you? The feller that relocated Discovery Claim on Anvil
Creek last summer?"
"You don't mean that 'tin-horn' the boys were going to lynch for
claim-jumping?"
"Identical! Remember me tellin' you about a good turn I done him once
down Guadalupe way?"
"Gre | 1,769.879515 |
2023-11-16 18:46:33.9559960 | 16 | 16 |
Produced by eagkw, Greg Bergquist and the Online Distributed
| 1,769.976036 |
2023-11-16 18:46:34.0553920 | 7,436 | 79 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
SILANUS THE CHRISTIAN
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
CLUE: A Guide through Greek to Hebrew Scripture
(Diatessarica—Part I).
_Demy 8vo, Cloth, Price 7s. 6d. net._
THE CORRECTIONS OF MARK (Diatessarica—Part II).
_Demy 8vo, Cloth, Price 15s. net._
FROM LETTER TO SPIRIT (Diatessarica—Part III).
_Demy 8vo, Cloth, Price 20s. net._
PARADOSIS (Diatessarica—Part IV).
_Demy 8vo, Cloth, Price 7s. 6d. net._
JOHANNINE VOCABULARY (Diatessarica—Part V).
_Demy 8vo, Cloth, Price 13s. 6d. net._
JOHANNINE GRAMMAR (Diatessarica—Part VI).
_Demy 8vo, Cloth, Price 16s. 6d. net._
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
27 RICHMOND STREET WEST, TORONTO
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
309 BOW BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA
SILANUS
THE CHRISTIAN
BY
EDWIN A. ABBOTT
AUTHOR OF “PHILOCHRISTUS” AND “ONESIMUS”
“_The love of Christ constraineth us._”
2 COR. V. 14.
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1906
Cambridge:
PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A.
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
TO THE MEMORY OF EPICTETUS
NOT A CHRISTIAN BUT AN AWAKENER OF ASPIRATIONS THAT COULD NOT BE
SATISFIED EXCEPT IN CHRIST
PREFACE
Many years have elapsed since the author was constrained (not by _a
priori_ considerations but by historical and critical evidence) to
disbelieve in the miraculous element of the Bible. Yet he retained the
belief of his childhood and youth—rooted more firmly than before—in
the eternal unity of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, in the
supernatural but non-miraculous incarnation of the Son as Jesus Christ,
and in Christ’s supernatural but non-miraculous resurrection after He had
offered Himself up as a sacrifice for the sins of the world.
The belief is commonly supposed to be rendered impossible by the
disbelief. This book is written to shew that there is no such
impossibility.
The vast majority of the worshippers of Christ base their worship to a
very large extent—as the author did in his early youth under the cloud
of Paley’s _Evidences_—on their acceptance of His miracles as historical
facts. In the author’s opinion this basis is already demonstrably unsafe,
and may be at any moment, by some new demonstration, absolutely destroyed.
Nevertheless such worshippers, if their worship is really genuine—that
is to say, if it includes love, trust, and awe, carried to their highest
limits, and not merely that kind of awe which is inspired by “mighty
works”—will do well to avoid this book. If doubt has not attacked them,
why should they go to meet it? In pulling up falsehood by the roots
there is always a danger of uprooting or loosening a truth that grows
beside it. Historical error, if honest, is better (and less misleading)
than spiritual darkness. For example, it is much better (and less
misleading) to remain in the old-fashioned belief that a good and wise
God created the world in six days than to adopt a new belief that a bad
or unwise or careless God—or a chance, or a force, or a power—evolved it
in sixty times six sextillions of centuries.
To such genuine worshippers of Christ, then, as long as they feel safe
and sincere in their convictions, this book is not addressed. They are
(in the author’s view) substantially right, and had better remain as they
are.
But there may be some, calling themselves worshippers of Christ, who
cannot honestly say that they love Him. They trust His power, they bow
before Him as divine; but they have no affection at all for Him, as
man, or as God. What St Paul described as the “constraining” love of
Christ has never touched them. And yet they fancy they worship! To them
this book may be of use in suggesting the divinity and loveableness of
Christ’s human nature; and any harm the book might do them can hardly be
conceived as equal to the harm of remaining in their present position.
One may learn Christ by rote, as one may learn Euclid by rote, so as to
be almost ruined for really knowing either. For such learners the best
course may be to go back and begin again.
It is, however, to a third class of readers that the author mainly
addresses himself. Having in view the experiences of his own early
manhood, he regards with a strong fellow feeling those who desire to
worship Christ and to be loyal and faithful to Him, if only they can
at the same time be loyal and faithful to truth, and who doubt the
compatibility of the double allegiance.
These, many of them, cannot even conceive how they can worship Christ at
the right hand of God, or the Son in the bosom of the Father in heaven,
unless they first believe in Him as miraculously manifested on earth.
Not being able to accept Him as miraculous, they reject Him as a Saviour.
To them this book specially appeals, endeavouring to shew, in a general
and popular way—on psychological, historical, and critical grounds—how
the rejection of the claim made by most Christians that their Lord is
miraculous, may be compatible with a frank and full acceptance of the
conclusion that He is, in the highest sense, divine.
Detailed proofs this volume does not offer. These will be given in a
separate volume of “Notes,” shortly to be published. This will be of a
technical nature, forming Part VII of the series called Diatessarica.
The present work merely aims at suggesting such conceptions of history,
literature, worship, human nature, and divine Being, as point to a
foreordained conformation of man to God, to be fulfilled in the Lord
Jesus Christ, of which the fulfilment may be traced in the Christian
writings and the Christian churches of the first and second centuries.
It also attempts, in a manner not perhaps very usual, to meet many
objections brought against Christianity by those who assert that its
records are inadequate, inaccurate, and contradictory. Instead of
denying these defects, the author admits and emphasizes them as being
inseparable from earthen vessels containing a spiritual treasure, and
as (in some cases) indirectly testifying to the divinity of the Person
whom the best efforts of the best and most inspired of the evangelists
inadequately, though honestly, portray. Specimens of these defects are
freely given, shewing the modifications, amplifications, and (in some
case) misinterpretations or corruptions, to which Christian tradition was
inevitably exposed in passing from the east to the west during a period
of about one hundred and thirty years, dating from the Crucifixion.
These objects the author has endeavoured to attain by sketching an
autobiography of an imaginary character, by name Quintus Junius Silanus,
who in the second year of Hadrian (A.D. 118) becomes a hearer of
Epictetus and a Christian convert, and commits his experiences to paper
forty-five years afterwards in the second year of Marcus Aurelius
Antoninus and Lucius Verus (A.D. 163).
EDWIN A. ABBOTT.
_Wellside, Well Walk, Hampstead._
_28 Aug. 1906._
_SUMMARY_
_Quintus Junius Silanus, born 90 A.D., goes from Rome at the suggestion
of his old friend Marcus Æmilius Scaurus, to attend the lectures of
Epictetus in Nicopolis about 118 A.D._
_Scaurus (like Silanus, an imaginary character) born about 50 A.D., is a
disabled soldier, and has been for many years a student of miscellaneous
Greek literature, including Christian writings. In reply to a letter
from Silanus, extolling his new teacher, Scaurus expresses his belief
that Epictetus has passed through a stage of infection with “the
Christian superstition,” from which he has borrowed some parts of the
superstructure while rejecting its foundation._
_Silanus, in order to defend his teacher Epictetus from what he considers
an unjust imputation, procures the epistles of Paul. His interest in
these leads him to the “scriptures” from which Paul quotes. Thence he is
led on to speculate about the nature of the “gospel” preached by Paul,
and about the character and utterances of the “Christ” from whom that
“gospel” originated. The epistles convey to him a sense of spiritual
strength and “constraining love.” He determines to procure the Christian
gospels._
_During all this time he is occasionally corresponding with Scaurus and
attending the lectures of Epictetus, which satisfy him less and less.
Contrasted with the spiritual strength in the epistles of Paul the
lectures seem to contain only spiritual effervescence. And there is an
utter absence of “constraining love.”_
_When the three Synoptic gospels reach Silanus from Rome, he receives at
the same time a destructive criticism on them from Scaurus. Much of this
criticism he is enabled to meet with the aid of the Pauline epistles.
But enough remains to shake his faith in their historical accuracy. Nor
does he find in them the same presence that he found in the epistles, of
“constraining love.” The result is, that he is thrown back from Christ._
_At this crisis he meets Clemens, an Athenian, who lends him a gospel
that has recently appeared, the gospel of John. Clemens frankly admits
his doubts about its authorship, and about its complete accuracy, but
commends it as conveying the infinite spiritual revelation inherent in
Christ less inadequately than it is conveyed by the Synoptists._
_A somewhat similar view is expressed by Scaurus, though with a large
admixture of hostile criticism. He has recently received the fourth
gospel, and it forms the subject of his last letter. While rejecting much
of it as unhistorical, he expresses great admiration for it, and for
what he deems its fundamental principle, namely, that Jesus cannot be
understood save through a “disciple whom Jesus loved.”_
_While speculating on what might have happened if he himself had come
under the influence of a “disciple whom Jesus loved,” Scaurus is struck
down by paralysis. Silanus sets sail for Italy in the hope of finding his
friend still living. At the moment when he is losing sight of the hills
above Nicopolis where Clemens is praying for him, Silanus receives an
apprehension of Christ’s “constraining love” and becomes a Christian._
* * * * *
No attempt has been made to give the impression of an archaic or Latin
style. Hence “Christus” and “Paulus” are mostly avoided except in a few
instances where they are mentioned for the first time by persons speaking
from a non-Christian point of view. Similar apparent inconsistencies will
be found in the use of “He” and “he,” denoting Christ. The use varies,
partly according to the speaker, partly according to the speaker’s mood.
It varies also in quotations from scripture according to the extent to
which the Revised Version is followed.
The utterances assigned to Epictetus are taken from the records of his
sayings by Arrian or others. Some of these have been freely translated,
paraphrased, and transposed; but none of them are imaginary. When Silanus
says that his friend Arrian “never heard Epictetus say” this or that,
the meaning is that the expression does not occur in Epictetus’s extant
works, so far as can be judged from Schenkl’s admirable Index.
The words assigned to Arrian, Silanus’s friend, when speaking in his own
person, are entirely imaginary; but the statements made about Arrian’s
birthplace and official career are based on history.
Any words assigned by Scaurus to his “friend” Pliny, Plutarch, or
Josephus, or by Silanus to “the young Irenæus,” or Justin, may be taken
to be historical. The references will be given in the volume of Notes.
Scaurus and Silanus occasionally describe themselves as “finding marginal
notes” indicating variations in their MSS. of the gospels. In all such
cases the imaginary “marginal notes” are based on actual various readings
or interpolations which will be given in the volume of Notes. Most of
these are of an early date, and may be based on much earlier originals;
and care has been taken to exclude any that are of late origin. But
the reader must bear in mind that we have no MSS. of the gospels, and
therefore no “marginal notes,” of so early a date as 118 A.D.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE FIRST LECTURE 15
II EPICTETUS ON THE GODS 25
III ARRIAN ON THE OATH OF THE CHRISTIANS 33
IV SCAURUS ON EPICTETUS AND PAUL 41
V EPICTETUS ALLUDES TO JEWS 54
VI PAUL ON THE LOVE OF CHRIST 65
VII DAVID AND MOSES 77
VIII EPICTETUS ON SIN 85
IX ARRIAN’S DEPARTURE 91
X EPICTETUS ON DEATH 97
XI ISAIAH ON DEATH 102
XII ISAIAH ON PROVIDENCE 109
XIII EPICTETUS ON PROVIDENCE 117
XIV PAUL’S CONVERSION 125
XV EPICTETUS’S GOSPEL 136
XVI PAUL’S GOSPEL 143
XVII EPICTETUS CONFESSES FAILURE 151
XVIII PAUL’S ONLY RECORD OF WORDS OF CHRIST 160
XIX HOW SCAURUS STUDIED THE THREE GOSPELS 172
XX SCAURUS ON FORGIVENESS 183
XXI SCAURUS ON THE CROSS 193
XXII SCAURUS ON MARK 201
XXIII SCAURUS ON SOME OF THE MIRACLES 211
XXIV SCAURUS ON CHRIST’S BIRTH 220
XXV SCAURUS ON CHRIST’S DISCOURSES 234
XXVI SCAURUS ON CHRIST’S RESURRECTION (I) 248
XXVII SCAURUS ON CHRIST’S RESURRECTION (II) 257
XXVIII THE LAST LECTURE 267
XXIX SILANUS MEETS CLEMENS 280
XXX SILANUS CONVERSES WITH CLEMENS 291
XXXI CLEMENS ON THE FOURTH GOSPEL 302
XXXII CLEMENS LENDS SILANUS THE FOURTH GOSPEL 312
XXXIII SCAURUS ON THE FOURTH GOSPEL 322
XXXIV THE LAST WORDS OF SCAURUS 333
XXXV CLEMENS ON THE SACRIFICE OF CHRIST 347
XXXVI SILANUS BECOMES A CHRISTIAN 360
ERRATA.
Transcriber’s Note: the errata have been corrected.
Page 49, _for_ “offending to” _read_ “offending.”
” 134, _for_ “a divine” _read_ “divine.”
CHAPTER I
THE FIRST LECTURE
“_I forbid you to go into the senate-house.” “As long as I am a senator,
go I must._” Two voices were speaking from one person—the first, pompous,
coarse, despotic; the second, refined, dry, austere. There was nothing
that approached stage-acting—only a suggestion of one man swelling out
with authority, and of another straightening up his back in resistance.
These were the first words that I heard from Epictetus, as I crept
late into the lecture-room, tired with a long journey over-night into
Nicopolis.
I need not have feared to attract attention. All eyes were fixed on
the lecturer as I stole into a place near the door, next my friend
Arrian, who was absorbed in his notes. What was it all about? In answer
to my look of inquiry Arrian pushed me his last sheet with the names
“Vespasian” and “Helvidius Priscus” scrawled large upon it. Then I knew
what it meant. It was a story now nearly forty years old—which I had
often heard from my father’s old friend, Æmilius Scaurus—illustrating
the duty of obeying the voice of the conscience rather than the voice of
a king. Epictetus, after his manner, was throwing it into the form of a
dialogue:—
“_Vespasian._ I forbid you to go into the senate-house.
“_Priscus._ As long as I am a senator, go I must.
“_Vespasian._ Go, then, but be silent.
“_Priscus._ Do not ask my opinion, and I will be silent.
“_Vespasian._ But I am bound to ask it.
“_Priscus._ And I am bound to answer, and to answer what I think right.
“_Vespasian._ Then I shall kill you.
“_Priscus._ Did I ever say that I could not be killed? It is yours to
kill; mine, to die fearless.”
I give his words almost as fully as Arrian took them down. But his tone
and spirit are past man’s power to put on paper. He flashed from Emperor
to Senator like the zig-zag of lightning with a straight down flash
at the end. This was always his way. He would play a thousand parts,
seeming, superficially, a very Proteus; but they were all types of two
characters, the philosopher and the worldling, the follower of the Logos
and the follower of the flesh. Moreover, he was always in earnest, in
hot earnest. On the surface he would jest like Menander or jibe like
Aristophanes; but at bottom he was a tragedian. At one moment he would
point to his halting leg and flout himself as a lame old grey-beard with
a body of clay. In the next, he was “a son of Zeus,” or “God’s own son,”
or “carrying about God.” Never at rest, he might deceive a stranger into
supposing that he was occasionally rippling and sparkling with real mirth
like a sea in sunlight. But it was never so. It was a sea of molten metal
and there was always a Vesuvius down below.
I suspect that he never knew mirth or genial laughter even as a child.
He was born a slave, his master being Epaphroditus, a freedman of Nero’s
and his favourite, afterwards killed by Domitian. I have heard—but not
from Arrian—that this master caused his lameness. He was twisting his leg
one day to see how much he could bear. The boy—for he was no more—said
with a smile, “If you go on, you will break it,” and then, “Did not I
tell you, you would break it?” True or false, this story gives the boy
as I knew the man. You might break his leg but never his will. I do not
know whether Epaphroditus, out of remorse, had him taught philosophy;
but taught he was, under one of the best men of the day, and he acquired
such fame that he was banished from Rome under Domitian, with other
philosophers of note—whether at or before the time when Domitian put
Epaphroditus to death I cannot say. In one of his lectures he described
how he was summoned before the Prefect of the City with the other
philosophers: “Come,” said the Prefect, “come, Epictetus, shave off your
beard.” “If I am a philosopher,” he replied, “I am not going to shave it
off.” “Then I shall take your head off.” “If it is for your advantage,
take it off.”
But now to return to my first lecture. Among our audience were several
men of position and one at least of senatorial rank. Some of them seemed
a little scandalized at the Teacher’s dialogue. It was not likely that
the Emperor would take offence, for in the second year of Hadrian we
were not in a Neronian or Domitian atmosphere; moreover, our Teacher
was known to be on good terms with the new Emperor. But perhaps their
official sense of propriety was shocked; and, in the first sentence of
what follows, Epictetus may have been expressing their thoughts: “‘_So
you, philosophers, teach people to despise the throne!_’ Heaven forbid!
Which of us teaches anyone to lay claim to anything over which kings
have authority? Take my body, take my goods, take my reputation! Take my
friends and relations! ‘Yes,’ says the ruler, ‘but I must also be ruler
over your convictions.’ Indeed, and who gave you this authority?”
Epictetus went on to say that if indeed his pupils were of the true
philosophic stamp, holding themselves detached from the things of the
body and with their minds fixed on the freedom of the soul, he would
have no need to spur them to boldness, but rather to draw them back from
over-hasty rushing to the grave; for, said he, they would come flocking
about him, begging and praying to be allowed to teach the tyrant that
they were free, by finding freedom at once in self-inflicted death: “Here
on earth, Master, these robbers and thieves, these courts of justice and
kings, have the upper hand. These creatures fancy that they have some
sort of authority over us, simply because they have a hold on our paltry
flesh and its possessions! Suffer us, Master, to shew them that they have
authority over nothing!” If, said he, a pupil of this high spirit were
brought before the tribunal of one of the rulers of the earth, he would
come back scoffing at such “authority” as a mere scarecrow: “Why all
these preparations, to meet no enemy at all? The pomp of his authority,
his solemn anteroom, his gentlemen of the chamber, his yeomen of the
guard—did they all come to no more than this! These things were nothing,
and I was preparing to meet something great!”
On the scholar of the unpractical and cowardly type, anxiously preparing
“what to say” in his defence before the magistrate’s tribunal, he
poured hot scorn. Had not the fellow, he asked, been practising “what
to say”—all his life through? “What else,” said he, “have you been
practising? Syllogisms and convertible propositions!” Then came the
reply, in a whine, “Yes, but he has authority to kill me!” To which the
Teacher answered, “Then speak the truth, you pitiful creature. Cease your
imposture and give up all claim to be a philosopher. In the lords of the
earth recognise your own lords and masters. As long as you give them this
grip on you, through your flesh, so long must you be at the beck and
call of every one that is stronger than you are. Socrates and Diogenes
had practised ‘what to say’ by the practice of their lives. But as for
you—get you back to your own proper business, and never again budge from
it! Back to your own snug corner, and sit there at your leisure, spinning
your syllogisms:
‘In thee is not the stuff that makes a man
A people’s leader.’”
Thence he passed to the objection that a judicial condemnation might
bring disgrace on a man’s good name. “The authorities, you say, have
condemned you as guilty of impiety and profanity. What harm is there
in that for you? This creature, with authority to condemn you—does he
himself know even the meaning of piety or impiety? If a man in authority
calls day night or bass treble, do men that know take notice of him?
Unless the judge knows what the truth is, his ‘authority to judge’ is
no authority. No man has authority over our convictions, our inmost
thoughts, our will. Hence when Zeno the philosopher went into the
presence of Antigonus the king, it was the king that was anxious, not
the philosopher. The king wished to gain the philosopher’s good opinion,
but the philosopher cared for nothing that the king could give. When,
therefore, you go to the palace of a great ruler, remember that you
are in effect going to the shop of a shoemaker or a grocer—on a great
scale of course, but still a grocer. He cannot sell you anything real or
lasting, though he may sell his groceries at a great price.”
At the bottom of all this doctrine about true and false authority, there
was, as I afterwards understood, a belief that God had bestowed on all
men, if they would but accept and use it, authority over their own
wills, so that we might conform our wills to His, as children do with a
Father, and might find pleasure, and indeed our only pleasure, in doing
this—accepting all bodily pain and evil as not evil but good because it
comes from His will, which must be also our will and must be honoured and
obeyed. “When,” said he, “the ruler says to anyone, ‘I will fetter your
leg,’ the man that is in the habit of honouring his leg cries, ‘Don’t,
for pity’s sake!’ But the man that honours his will says, ‘If it appears
advisable to you, fetter it’.”
“_Tyrant._ Won’t you bend?
“_Cynic._ I will not bend.
“_Tyrant._ I will show you that I am lord.
“_Cynic._ You! impossible! I have been freed by Zeus. Do you really
imagine that He would allow His own son to be made a slave? But of my
corpse you _are_ lord. Take it.”
In this particular lecture Epictetus also gave us a glimpse of a wider
and more divine authority imparted by God to a few special natures,
akin to Himself, whereby, as God is supreme King over men His children,
so a chosen few may become subordinate kings over men their brethren.
Like Plato, he seemed to look forward to a time when rulers would
become philosophers, or else philosophers kings. Nero and Sardanapalus,
Agamemnon and Alexander, all came under his lash—all kings and rulers of
the old _régime_. Not that he denied Agamemnon a superiority to Nero,
or the right to call himself “shepherd of the people” if he pleased.
“Sheep, indeed,” he exclaimed, “to submit to be ruled over by you!” and
“Shepherd, indeed, for you weep like the shepherds, when a wolf has
snatched away a sheep!”
From these old-fashioned rulers he passed to a new and nobler ideal of
kingship: “Those kings and tyrants received from their armed guards the
power of rebuking and punishing wrongdoing, though they might be rascals
themselves. But on the Cynic”—that was the term he used—“this power is
bestowed by the conscience.” Then he explained to us what he meant by
“conscience”—the consciousness of a life of wise, watchful, and unwearied
toil for man, with the co-operation of God. “And how,” he asked, “could
such a man fail to be bold and speak the truth with boldness, speaking,
as he does, to his own brethren, to his own children and kinsfolk? So
inspired, he is no meddler or busybody. Supervising and inspecting the
affairs of mankind, he is not busying himself with other men’s matters,
but with his own. Else, call a general, too, a busybody, when he is busy
inspecting his own soldiers!”
This was, to me, quite a new view of the character of a Cynic. But
Epictetus insisted on it with reiteration. The Cynic, he said, was
Warrior and Physician in one. As a warrior, he was like Hercules,
wandering over the world with his club and destroying noxious beasts and
monsters. As a physician, he was like Socrates or Diogenes, going about
and doing good to those afflicted with sickness of mind, diagnosing
each disease, prescribing diet, cautery, or other remedy. In both these
capacities the Cynic received from God authority over men, and men
recognised it in him, because they perceived him to be their benefactor
and deliverer.
There are, said Epictetus, in each man two characters—the character of
the Beast and the character of the Man. By Beast he meant wild or savage
beast, as distinct from tame beast, which he preferred to call “sheep.”
“Sheep” meant the cowardly, passive-greedy passions within us. “The
Beast” meant the savage, aggressive-greedy nature, not only stirring us
up to external war against our neighbours, but also waging war to the
death against our inward better nature, against the “Man.” The mark or
stamp of the Beast he connected with Nero. “Cast it away,” he said. The
opposite mark or stamp he connected with the recently deceased Emperor,
Trajan. If we acted like a beast, he warned us that we should become like
a beast, and then, according to his customary phrase, “_You will have
lost the Man_.” And was this, asked he, nothing to lose? Over and over
again he repeated it: “_You have thrown away the Man_.” It was in this
light—as a type of the Man—that he regarded Hercules, the first of the
Cynics, the Son of God, going on the errands of the Father to destroy the
Beast in its various shapes, typifying an armed Missionary, but armed
for spiritual not for fleshly warfare, destroying the Beast that would
fain dominate the world. But it was for Diogenes that he reserved his
chief admiration, placing him (I think) even above Socrates, or at all
events praising him more warmly—partly, perhaps, out of fellow-feeling,
because Diogenes, too, like himself, had known what it was to be a slave.
Never shall I forget the passage in this lecture in which he described
Alexander surprising the great Cynic asleep, and waking him up with a
line of Homer:—
“To sleep all night suits not a Councillor,”
—to which Diogenes replied at once in the following line, claiming for
himself the heavy burden (entrusted to him by Zeus) of caring like a king
for all the nations of the earth:—
“Who holds, in trust, the world’s vast orb of cares.”
Diogenes, according to our Teacher, was much more than an Æsculapius
of souls; he was a sovereign with “the sceptre and the kingdom of the
Cynic.” Some have represented Epictetus as claiming this authority for
himself. But in the lecture that I heard, it was not so. Though what he
said might have been mistaken as a claim for himself, it was really a
claim for “the Cynic,” as follows. First he put the question, “How is it
possible for one destitute, naked, homeless, hearthless, squalid, with
not one slave to attend him, or a country to call his own, to lead a life
of equable happiness?” To which he replied, “Behold, God hath sent unto
you the man to demonstrate in act this possibility. ‘_Look on me, and
see that I am without country, home, possessions, slaves; no bed but the
ground, no wife, no children—no palace to make a king or governor out of
me—only the earth, and the sky, and one threadbare cloak! And yet what
do I want? Am I not fearless? Am I not free? When saw ye me failing to
find any good thing that I desired, or falling into any evil that I would
fain have avoided? What fault found I ever with God or man? When did I
ever accuse anyone? Did anyone ever see me with a gloomy face? How do I
confront the great persons before whom you, worldlings | 1,770.075432 |
2023-11-16 18:46:34.0583340 | 240 | 51 |
Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at
http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made
available by the Internet Archive.)
THE VINTAGE
_A Romance of the Greek War of
Independence. By_ E. F. BENSON
_Author of "Limitations" "Dodo"
"The Judgment Books" etc._
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
"And the wine-press was trodden without the
city, and blood came out of the wine-press"
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
1898
[Illustration: "'COME AND SIT DOWN'"]
THIS ROMANCE
DEALING WITH THE REGENERATION OF HER PEOPLE
IS DEDICATED BY PERMISSION
TO
HER MAJESTY
OLGA
QUEEN OF THE HELLENES
CONTENTS
PART I
THE VINEYARD
I. The House on the Road To Nauplia
II. The Coming of Nicholas Vidalis
III. The Story of a Brigand
IV. | 1,770.078374 |
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