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Produced by Jo Churcher
REWARDS AND FAIRIES
By Rudyard Kipling
Contents
A Charm
Introduction
Cold Iron
Cold Iron
Gloriana
The Two Cousins
The Looking-Glass
The Wrong Thing
A Truthful Song
King Henry VII and the Shipwrights
Marklake Witches
The Way through the Woods
Brookland Road
The Knife and the Naked Chalk
The Run of the Downs
Song of the Men's Side
Brother Square-Toes
Philadelphia
If--
Rs
'A Priest in Spite of Himself'
A St Helena Lullaby
'Poor Honest Men'
The Conversion of St Wilfrid
Eddi's Service
Song of the Red War-Boat
A Doctor of Medicine
An Astrologer's Song
'Our Fathers of Old'
Simple Simon
The Thousandth Man
Frankie's Trade
The Tree of Justice
The Ballad of Minepit Shaw
A Carol
A Charm
Take of English earth as much
As either hand may rightly clutch.
In the taking of it breathe
Prayer for all who lie beneath--
Not the great nor well-bespoke,
But the mere uncounted folk
Of whose life and death is none
Report or lamentation.
Lay that earth upon thy heart,
And thy sickness shall depart!
It shall sweeten and make whole
Fevered breath and festered soul;
It shall mightily restrain
Over-busy hand and brain;
it shall ease thy mortal strife
'Gainst the immortal woe of life,
Till thyself restored shall prove
By what grace the Heavens do move.
Take of English flowers these--
Spring's full-faced primroses,
Summer's wild wide-hearted rose,
Autumn's wall-flower of the close,
And, thy darkness to illume,
Winter's bee-thronged ivy-bloom.
Seek and serve them where they bide
From Candlemas to Christmas-tide,
For these simples used aright
Shall restore a failing sight.
These shall cleanse and purify
Webbed and inward-turning eye;
These shall show thee treasure hid,
Thy familiar fields amid,
At thy threshold, on thy hearth,
Or about thy daily path;
And reveal (which is thy need)
Every man a King indeed!
Introduction
Once upon a time, Dan and Una, brother and sister, living in the English
country, had the good fortune to meet with Puck, alias Robin Goodfellow,
alias Nick o' Lincoln, alias Lob-lie-by-the-Fire, the last survivor
in England of those whom mortals call Fairies. Their proper name, of
course, is 'The People of the Hills'. This Puck, by means of the magic
of Oak, Ash, and Thorn, gave the children power
To see what they should see and hear what they should hear,
Though it should have happened three thousand year.
The result was that from time to time, and in different places on the
farm and in the fields and in the country about, they saw and talked to
some rather interesting people. One of these, for instance, was a Knight
of the Norman Conquest, another a young Centurion of a Roman Legion
stationed in England, another a builder and decorator of King Henry
VII's time; and so on and so forth; as I have tried to explain in a book
called PUCK OF POOK'S HILL.
A year or so later, the children met Puck once more, and though they
were then older and wiser, and wore boots regularly instead of going
barefooted when they got the chance, Puck was as kind to them as ever,
and introduced them to more people of the old days.
He was careful, of course, to take away their memory of their walks and
conversations afterwards, but otherwise he did not interfere; and Dan
and Una would find the strangest sort of persons in their gardens or
woods.
In the stories that follow I am trying to tell something about those
people.
COLD IRON
When Dan and Una had arranged to go out before breakfast, they did not
remember that it was Midsummer Morning. They only wanted to see the
otter which, old Hobden said, had been fishing their brook for weeks;
and early morning was the time to surprise him. As they tiptoed out of
the house into the wonderful stillness, the church clock struck five.
Dan took a few steps across the dew-blobbed lawn, and looked at his
black footprints.
'I think we ought to be kind to our poor boots,' he said. 'They'll get
horrid wet.'
It was their first summer in boots, and they hated them, so they took
them off, and slung them round their necks, and paddled joyfully over
the dripping turf where the shadows lay the wrong way, like evening in
the East. The sun was well up and warm, but by the brook the last of
the night mist still fumed off the water. They picked up the chain of
otter's footprints on the mud, and followed it from the bank, between
the weeds and the drenched mowing, while the birds shouted with
surprise. Then the track left the brook and became a smear, as though a
log had been dragged along.
They traced it into Three Cows meadow, over the mill-sluice to the
Forge, round Hobden's garden, and then up the <DW72> till it ran out
on the short turf and fern of Pook's Hill, and they heard the
cock-pheasants crowing in the woods behind them.
'No use!' said Dan, questing like a puzzled hound. 'The dew's drying
off, and old Hobden says otters'll travel for miles.'
'I'm sure we've travelled miles.' Una fanned herself with her hat. 'How
still it is! It's going to be a regular roaster.' She looked down the
valley, where no chimney yet smoked.
'Hobden's up!' Dan pointed to the open door of the Forge cottage. 'What
d'you suppose he has for breakfast?' 'One of them. He says they eat good
all times of the year,' Una jerked her head at some stately pheasants
going down to the brook for a drink.
A few steps farther on a fox broke almost under their bare feet, yapped,
and trotted off.
'Ah, Mus' Reynolds--Mus' Reynolds'--Dan was quoting from old
Hobden,--'if I knowed all you knowed, I'd know something.' [See 'The
Winged Hats' in PUCK OF POOK'S HILL.]
I say,'--Una lowered her voice--'you know that funny feeling of things
having happened before. I felt it when you said "Mus' Reynolds."'
'So did I,' Dan began. 'What is it?'
They faced each other, stammering with excitement.
'Wait a shake! I'll remember in a minute. Wasn't it something about a
fox--last year? Oh, I nearly had it then!' Dan cried.
'Be quiet!' said Una, prancing excitedly. 'There was something happened
before we met the fox last year. Hills! Broken Hills--the play at the
theatre--see what you see--'
'I remember now,' Dan shouted. 'It's as plain as the nose on your
face--Pook's Hill--Puck's Hill--Puck!'
'I remember, too,' said Una. 'And it's Midsummer Day again!' The young
fern on a knoll rustled, and Puck walked out, chewing a green-topped
rush.
'Good Midsummer Morning to you! Here's a happy meeting,' said he. They
shook hands all round, and asked questions.
'You've wintered well,' he said after a while, and looked them up and
down. 'Nothing much wrong with you, seemingly.'
'They've put us into boots,' said Una. 'Look at my feet--they're all
pale white, and my toes are squidged together awfully.'
'Yes--boots make a difference.' Puck wriggled his brown, square, hairy
foot, and cropped a dandelion flower between the big toe and the next.
'I could do that--last year,' Dan said dismally, as he tried and failed.
'And boots simply ruin one's climbing.'
'There must be some advantage to them, I suppose,'said Puck, or folk
wouldn't wear them. Shall we come this way?' They sauntered along side
by side till they reached the gate at the far end of the hillside. Here
they halted just like cattle, and let the sun warm their backs while
they listened to the flies in the wood.
'Little Lindens is awake,' said Una, as she hung with her chin on the
top rail. 'See the chimney smoke?'
'Today's Thursday, isn't it?' Puck turned to look at the old pink
farmhouse across the little valley. 'Mrs Vincey's baking day. Bread
should rise well this weather.' He yawned, and that set them both
yawning.
The bracken about rustled and ticked and shook in every direction. They
felt that little crowds were stealing past.
'Doesn't that sound like--er--the People of the Hills?'said Una.
'It's the birds and wild things drawing up to the woods before people
get about,' said Puck, as though he were Ridley the keeper.
'Oh, we know that. I only said it sounded like.'
'As I remember 'em, the People of the Hills used to make more noise.
They'd settle down for the day rather like small birds settling down for
the night. But that was in the days when they carried the high hand. Oh,
me! The deeds that I've had act and part in, you'd scarcely believe!'
'I like that!' said Dan. 'After all you told us last year, too!'
'Only, the minute you went away, you made us forget everything,' said
Una.
Puck laughed and shook his head. 'I shall this year, too. I've given you
seizin of Old England, and I've taken away your Doubt and Fear, but your
memory and remembrance between whiles I'll keep where old Billy Trott
kept his night-lines--and that's where he could draw 'em up and hide 'em
at need. Does that suit?' He twinkled mischievously.
'It's got to suit,'said Una, and laughed. 'We Can't magic back at you.'
She folded her arms and leaned against the gate. 'Suppose, now, you
wanted to magic me into something--an otter? Could you?'
'Not with those boots round your neck.' 'I'll take them off.' She threw
them on the turf. Dan's followed immediately. 'Now!' she said.
'Less than ever now you've trusted me. Where there's true faith, there's
no call for magic.' Puck's slow smile broadened all over his face.
'But what have boots to do with it?' said Una, perching on the gate.
'There's Cold Iron in them,' said Puck, and settled beside her. 'Nails
in the soles, I mean. It makes a difference.'
'How?' 'Can't you feel it does? You wouldn't like to go back to bare
feet again, same as last year, would you? Not really?'
'No-o. I suppose I shouldn't--not for always. I'm growing up, you know,'
said Una.
'But you told us last year, in the Long Slip--at the theatre--that you
didn't mind Cold Iron,'said Dan.
'I don't; but folks in housen, as the People of the Hills call them,
must be ruled by Cold Iron. Folk in housen are born on the near side of
Cold Iron--there's iron 'in every man's house, isn't there? They handle
Cold Iron every day of their lives, and their fortune's made or spoilt
by Cold Iron in some shape or other. That's how it goes with Flesh and
Blood, and one can't prevent it.'
'I don't quite see. How do you mean?'said Dan.
'It would take me some time to tell you.'
'Oh, it's ever so long to breakfast,' said Dan. 'We looked in the
larder before we came out.' He unpocketed one big hunk of bread and Una
another, which they shared with Puck.
'That's Little Lindens' baking,' he said, as his white teeth sunk in
it. 'I know Mrs Vincey's hand.' He ate with a slow sideways thrust and
grind, just like old Hobden, and, like Hobden, hardly dropped a crumb.
The sun flashed on Little Lindens' windows, and the cloudless sky grew
stiller and hotter in the valley.
'AH--Cold Iron,' he said at last to the impatient children. 'Folk in
housen, as the People of the Hills say, grow careless about Cold Iron.
They'll nail the Horseshoe over the front door, and forget to put it
over the back. Then, some time or other, the People of the Hills slip
in, find the cradle-babe in the corner, and--'
'Oh, I know. Steal it and leave a changeling,'Una cried.
'No,' said Puck firmly. 'All that talk of changelings is people's excuse
for their own neglect. Never believe 'em. I'd whip 'em at the cart-tail
through three parishes if I had my way.'
'But they don't do it now,' said Una.
'Whip, or neglect children? Umm! Some folks and some fields never alter.
But the People of the Hills didn't work any changeling tricks.
They'd tiptoe in and whisper and weave round the cradle-babe in the
chimney-corner--a fag-end of a charm here, or half a spell there--like
kettles singing; but when the babe's mind came to bud out afterwards,
it would act differently from other people in its station. That's no
advantage to man or maid. So I wouldn't allow it with my folks' babies
here. I told Sir Huon so once.'
'Who was Sir Huon?' Dan asked, and Puck turned on him in quiet
astonishment.
'Sir Huon of Bordeaux--he succeeded King Oberon. He had been a bold
knight once, but he was lost on the road to Babylon, a long while back.
Have you ever heard "How many miles to Babylon?"?'
'Of course,' said Dan, flushing.
'Well, Sir Huon was young when that song was new. But about tricks
on mortal babies. I said to Sir Huon in the fern here, on just such a
morning as this: "If you crave to act and influence on folk in housen,
which I know is your desire, why don't you take some human cradle-babe
by fair dealing, and bring him up among yourselves on the far side
of Cold Iron--as Oberon did in time past? Then you could make him a
splendid fortune, and send him out into the world."
'"Time past is past time," says Sir Huon. "I doubt if we could do it.
For one thing, the babe would have to be taken without wronging man,
woman, or child. For another, he'd have to be born on the far side of
Cold Iron--in some house where no Cold Iron ever stood; and for yet the
third, he'd have to be kept from Cold Iron all his days till we let
him find his fortune. No, it's not easy," he said, and he rode off,
thinking. You see, Sir Huon had been a man once. 'I happened to attend
Lewes Market next Woden's Day even, and watched the slaves being sold
there--same as pigs are sold at Robertsbridge Market nowadays. Only,
the pigs have rings on their noses, and the slaves had rings round their
necks.'
'What sort of rings?' said Dan.
'A ring of Cold Iron, four fingers wide, and a thumb thick, just like
a quoit, but with a snap to it for to snap round the slave's neck. They
used to do a big trade in slave-rings at the Forge here, and ship
them to all parts of Old England, packed in oak sawdust. But, as I was
saying, there was a farmer out of the Weald who had bought a woman with
a babe in her arms, and he didn't want any encumbrances to her driving
his beasts home for him.'
'Beast himself!' said Una, and kicked her bare heel on the gate.
'So he blamed the auctioneer. "It's none o' my baby," the wench puts in.
"I took it off a woman in our gang who died on Terrible Down yesterday."
"I'll take it off to the church then," says the farmer. "Mother
Church'll make a monk of it, and we'll step along home."
'It was dusk then. He slipped down to St Pancras' Church, and laid the
babe at the cold chapel door. I breathed on the back of his stooping
neck--and--I've heard he never could be warm at any fire afterwards. I
should have been surprised if he could! Then I whipped up the babe, and
came flying home here like a bat to his belfry.
'On the dewy break of morning of Thor's own day--just such a day as
this--I laid the babe outside the Hill here, and the People flocked up
and wondered at the sight.
'"You've brought him, then?" Sir Huon said, staring like any mortal man.
'"Yes, and he's brought his mouth with him, too," I said. The babe was
crying loud for his breakfast.
'"What is he?" says Sir Huon, when the womenfolk had drawn him under to
feed him.
'"Full Moon and Morning Star may know," I says. "I don't. By what I
could make out of him in the moonlight, he's without brand or blemish.
I'll answer for it that he's born on the far side of Cold Iron, for he
was born under a shaw on Terrible Down, and I've wronged neither man,
woman, nor child in taking him, for he is the son of a dead slave-woman."
'"All to the good, Robin," Sir Huon said. "He'll be the less anxious to
leave us. Oh, we'll give him a splendid fortune, and we shall act and
influence on folk in housen as we have always craved." His Lady came up
then, and drew him under to watch the babe's wonderful doings.' 'Who was
his Lady?'said Dan. 'The Lady Esclairmonde. She had been a woman once,
till she followed Sir Huon across the fern, as we say. Babies are no
special treat to me--I've watched too many of them--so I stayed on the
Hill. Presently I heard hammering down at the Forge there.'Puck pointed
towards Hobden's cottage. 'It was too early for any workmen, but it
passed through my mind that the breaking day was Thor's own day. A slow
north-east wind blew up and set the oaks sawing and fretting in a way I
remembered; so I slipped over to see what I could see.'
'And what did you see?' 'A smith forging something or other out of Cold
Iron. When it was finished, he weighed it in his hand (his back was
towards me), and tossed it from him a longish quoit-throw down the
valley. I saw Cold Iron flash in the sun, but I couldn't quite make out
where it fell. That didn't trouble me. I knew it would be found sooner
or later by someone.'
'How did you know?'Dan went on.
'Because I knew the Smith that made it,' said Puck quietly.
'Wayland Smith?' Una suggested. [See 'Weland's Sword' in PUCK OF POOK'S
HILL.]
'No. I should have passed the time o' day with Wayland Smith, of course.
This other was different. So'--Puck made a queer crescent in the air
with his finger--'I counted the blades of grass under my nose till the
wind dropped and he had gone--he and his Hammer.'
'Was it Thor then?' Una murmured under her breath.
'Who else? It was Thor's own day.' Puck repeated the sign. 'I didn't
tell Sir Huon or his Lady what I'd seen. Borrow trouble for yourself if
that's your nature, but don't lend it to your neighbours. Moreover,
I might have been mistaken about the Smith's work. He might have been
making things for mere amusement, though it wasn't like him, or he might
have thrown away an old piece of made iron. One can never be sure. So I
held my tongue and enjoyed the babe. He was a wonderful child--and the
People of the Hills were so set on him, they wouldn't have believed me.
He took to me wonderfully. As soon as he could walk he'd putter forth
with me all about my Hill here. Fern makes soft falling! He knew when
day broke on earth above, for he'd thump, thump, thump, like an old
buck-rabbit in a bury, and I'd hear him say "Opy!" till some one who
knew the Charm let him out, and then it would be "Robin! Robin!" all
round Robin Hood's barn, as we say, till he'd found me.'
'The dear!' said Una. 'I'd like to have seen him!' 'Yes, he was a boy.
And when it came to learning his words--spells and such-like--he'd sit
on the Hill in the long shadows, worrying out bits of charms to try on
passersby. And when the bird flew to him, or the tree bowed to him for
pure love's | 2,185.752698 |
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This eBook was produced by Andrew Sly.
THE BRITISH NORTH AMERICA ACT, 1867.
30 VICTORIA, CHAPTER 3.
An Act for the Union of Canada, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick,
and the Government thereof; and for Purposes connected therewith.
[29th March, 1867.]
Whereas the Provinces of Canada, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick have
expressed their Desire to be federally united into One Dominion under
the Crown of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, with a
Constitution similar in Principle to that of the United Kingdom:
And whereas such a Union would conduce to the Welfare of the Provinces
and promote the Interests of the British Empire:
And whereas on the Establishment of the Union by Authority of Parliament
it is expedient, not only that the Constitution of the Legislative
Authority in the Dominion be provided for, but also that the Nature of
the Executive Government therein be declared:
And whereas it is expedient that Provision be made for the eventual
Admission into the Union of other Parts of British North America:
Be it therefore enacted and declared by the Queen's most Excellent
Majesty, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Lords Spiritual and
Temporal, and Commons, in this present Parliament assembled, and by
the Authority of the same, as follows:
I.--PRELIMINARY.
1. [Short Title.] This Act may be cited as The British North America
Act, 1867.
2. [Application of Provisions referring to the Queen.] The Provisions of
this Act referring to Her Majesty the Queen extend also to the Heirs and
Successors of Her Majesty, Kings and Queens of the United Kingdom of
Great Britain and Ireland.
II.--UNION.
3. [Declaration of Union] It shall be lawful for the Queen, by and with
the Advice of Her Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council, to declare by
Proclamation that, on and after a Day therein appointed, not being more
than Six Months after the passing of this Act, the Provinces of Canada,
Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick shall form and be One Dominion under the
Name of Canada; and on and after that Day those Three Provinces shall
form and be One Dominion under that Name accordingly.
4. [Construction of subsequent Provisions of Act.] The subsequent
Provisions of this Act shall, unless it is otherwise expressed or
implied, commence and have effect on and after the Union, that is to
say, on and after the Day appointed for the Union taking effect in the
Queen's Proclamation; and in the same Provisions, unless it is otherwise
expressed or implied, the Name Canada shall be taken to mean Canada as
constituted under this Act.
5. [Four Provinces.] Canada shall be divided into Four Provinces, named
Ontario, Quebec, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick.
6. [Provinces of Ontario and Quebec.] The Parts of the Province of
Canada (as it exists at the passing of this Act) which formerly
constituted respectively the Provinces of Upper Canada and Lower Canada
shall be deemed to be severed, and shall form two separate Provinces.
The Part which formerly constituted the Province of Upper Canada shall
constitute the Province of Ontario; and the Part which formerly
constituted the Province of Lower Canada shall constitute the Province
of Quebec.
7. [Provinces of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.] The Provinces of Nova
Scotia and New Brunswick shall have the same Limits as at the passing of
this Act.
8. [Decennial Census.] In the general Census of the Population of Canada
which is hereby required to be taken in the Year One thousand eight
hundred and seventy-one, and in every Tenth Year thereafter, the
respective Populations of the Four Provinces shall be distinguished.
III.--EXECUTIVE POWER.
9. [Declaration of Executive Power in the Queen.] The Executive
Government and Authority of and over Canada is hereby declared to
continue and be vested in the Queen.
10. [Application of Provisions referring to Governor General.] The
Provisions of this Act referring to the Governor General extend and
apply to the Governor General for the Time being of Canada, or other the
Chief Executive Officer or Administrator for the Time being carrying on | 2,185.753639 |
2023-11-16 18:53:29.7337000 | 392 | 6 |
Produced by Julia Miller and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from scans of public domain material produced by
Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
Transcriber's Note
A number of typographical errors and inconsistencies have been
maintained in this version of this book. They have been marked with a
[TN-#], which refers to a description in the complete list found at the
end of the text. Oe ligatures have been expanded.
[Illustration: Fig. 1.--Gateway at Labna. [See p. 144.]
ANCIENT AMERICA,
IN
NOTES ON AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY.
BY JOHN D. BALDWIN, A.M.,
AUTHOR OF "PRE-HISTORIC NATIONS."
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS._
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
JOHN D. BALDWIN,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
PREFACE.
The purpose of this volume is to give a summary of what is known of
American Antiquities, with some thoughts and suggestions relative to
their significance. It aims at nothing more. No similar work, I believe,
has been published in English or in any other language. What is known of
American Archaeology is recorded in a great many volumes, English,
French, Spanish, and German, each work being confined to some particular
department of the subject, or containing only an intelligent traveler's
brief sketches of what he saw as he went through some of the districts
where the old ruins are found. Many of the more important of these works
are either in French or | 2,185.75374 |
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Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Turgut Dincer and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's note: |
| |
| The combination "vv" which occurs at some places for |
| "w" and the word "Jonick" used sometimes for "Ionick" |
| has been kept to conserve the original appearance of the |
| book. No changes have been made in the text except the |
| correction of obvious typos. |
+----------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: ARCHITECTVRE 1692]
AN
ABRIDGMENT
OF THE
ARCHITECTURE
OF
VITRUVIUS.
CONTAINING
A System of the whole WORKS
of that Author.
Illustrated with divers Copper Plates, curiously
engraved; with a Table of Explanation,
To which is added in this Edition
The Etymology and Derivation of the
Terms used in _Architecture_.
First done in _French_ by Monsr _Perrault_, of the
Academy of _Paris_, and now _Englished_, with Additions.
_LONDON_: Printed for _Abel Small_ and _T. Child_,
at the _Unicorn_ in St. _Paul_'s Church-yard. 1692.
A
TABLE
OF THE
CHAPTERS.
The Introduction.
Article 1. _Of the great merits of_ Vitruvius, _and the
Excellencies of his Works_. Page 1.
Art. 2. _Of the method of the Works of_ Vitruvius, _with
short Arguments of every Book_. 9 | 2,185.846405 |
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Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
LADIES
MANUAL OF ART
OR
PROFIT AND PASTIME.
A SELF TEACHER IN
All Branches of Decorative Art,
EMBRACING EVERY VARIETY OF
PAINTING AND DRAWING
On China, Glass, Velvet, Canvas, Paper and Wood
THE SECRET OF ALL
_GLASS TRANSPARENCIES, SKETCHING FROM NATURE. PASTEL AND CRAYON DRAWING,
TAXIDERMY, Etc._
[Illustration]
CHICAGO:
DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO.
407–425 DEARBORN STREET
1890
[Illustration: COPYRIGHT,]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE
[Illustration]
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furnish to all lovers of the useful and beautiful in art a true teacher,
making every instruction so plain and comprehensive, that a child can
grasp the meaning. In thus combining all these arts in one volume, we
save the learner the expense of purchasing a large number of books at a
cost which effectually precludes the possibility of many engaging in
this profitable and pleasant occupation. Then, to those whose tastes are
artistically inclined, and who find it most inconvenient to obtain
instructions in all the branches desired; to those in whom genius lies
dormant and whom necessity compels to earn their own livelihood; to
those who desire to combine pastime with pleasure, and to those who have
the means, tastes and desire but not the necessary assistance at hand to
ornament their homes, we respectfully dedicate our “Art Manual.”
THE PUBLISHERS.
[Illustration]
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.
In learning the art of drawing or writing, like all other Arts and
Sciences, there are certain first and fixed principles to be observed as
a foundation upon which the whole is built. A right understanding of
these is absolutely necessary that we may become masters of that art
which we undertake to learn. A neglect of these first principles is the
reason why so many who have spent time sufficient to become accomplished
artists, are, after all their pains and loss of time, incapable of
producing even fair work; and are often at a loss to know how to begin.
Many commence by copying the work of others, and are surprised to find
how little such ability avails them when attempting to make sketches
from nature. The instruction for those who intend prosecuting this
delightful study, is prepared with great care by the author, who has had
very many years of experience in landscape drawing. ’Tis true that much
of his ability has been attained by years of patient industry and
practice. Yet time might have been saved by little earlier attention to
principles and study of works on the subject, prepared by experts. The
best advice to those contemplating a study of the art—who possess any
degree of skill in the use of the pencil, is to go out into the field,
with the “instructor” in one hand and your sketch-book in the other,
select some object of interest, and “take it in.” If not satisfactory,
try again—be not too easily discouraged. You will find the study of
nature a source of pleasure, objects of interest will appear on every
hand, in the valleys, on the mountains, the lakes, or by the river side,
and as you become familiar with the scenes in nature, difficulties will
disappear, and you are happy in the thought that sketching from nature
is truly one of the most pure and refined of intellectual pleasures and
professions, and the sketch-book with you, as with the writer, will ever
be a chosen companion.
When this branch of the work has been completed, and the landscape
transferred to paper and shaded up, the most difficult part of the task
is accomplished. The next essential element in the advancement of the
picture, and that which renders it more beautiful to the eye, is color.
’Tis well to turn aside from your unfinished landscape or portrait, and
study the colors in nature, the mixing of tints, and how to apply them,
as shown on a subsequent page of this book.
To become an artist requires only a love for the art, a good eye, and an
abundance of continuity.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
[Illustration]
=Sketching from Nature.=—How to Make a Drawing—Linear
Perspective—Materials—Terms in a Picture—Lines in Nature—Line of
Beauty—Landscapes—Selecting a Position—Lights and Shades 9
=Colors in Nature.=—Primary Colors—Advantages of Colors—Colors of a
Spectrum—Mixtures of Colors—Transmission of Light—Pure White,
Black, Gray, Green—Neutralization of Colors 23
=Pen and Pencil Drawing.=—Paper Used for Transferring—Preparation
of Paper—Method of Transferring—Shading by Pen—Pentagraph—How to
Use it—Copying with Transparent Paper 27
=Pastel Painting.=—C | 2,185.848261 |
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[Illustration: IN THE DESERT SUNRISE]
A RIDE TO INDIA
ACROSS PERSIA AND BALUCHISTAN.
BY
HARRY DE WINDT, F.R.G.S.,
AUTHOR OF "FROM PEKIN TO CALAIS BY LAND," ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
HERBERT WALKER _FROM SKETCHES BY THE AUTHOR_.
1891.
TO
AUDLEY LOVELL, ESQUIRE,
COLDSTREAM GUARDS,
THIS VOLUME
IS
DEDICATED.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. TIFLIS--BAKU
II. THE CASPIAN--ASTARA--RESHT
III. RESHT--PATCHINAR
IV. PATCHINAR--TEHERAN
V. TEHERAN
VI. TEHERAN--ISPAHAN
VII. ISPAHAN--SHIRAZ
VIII. SHIRAZ--BUSHIRE
IX. BALUCHISTAN--BEILA
X. BALUCHISTAN--GWARJAK
XI. KELAT--QUETTA--BOMBAY
APPENDIX
MAP
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
* * * * *
IN THE DESERT SUNRISE
TIFLIS
A DIRTY NIGHT IN THE CASPIAN
ASTARA, RUSSO-PERSIAN FRONTIER
CROSSING THE KHARZAN
TEHERAN
PERSIAN DANCING-GIRL
POST-HOUSE AT KUSHKU BAIRA
A CORPSE CARAVAN
A DAY IN THE SNOW
A FAMILY PARTY
YEZDI-GHAZT
THE CARAVANSERAI, MEYUN KOTAL
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Produced by David Edwards, Linda Hamilton 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: "In that instant the grateful Black rushed on like
lightning to assist him, and assailing the bull with a weighty stick
that he held in his hand, compelled him to turn his rage upon a new
object." _P. 349._]
THE HISTORY
OF
SANDFORD AND MERTON.
BY THOMAS DAY.
=Six Engravings on Steel.=
=Philadelphia:=
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
MDCCCLXVIII.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Description of Harry Sandford and Tommy Merton--Adventure
with the Snake--Harry in Mr Merton's house--Mr Barlow
undertakes the education of Tommy--The first day at Mr
Barlow's--Story of the Flies and the Ants--Harry rescues
a Chicken from a Kite--Story of the Gentleman and the
Basket-maker--Tommy learns to read--Story of the two dogs, 1
CHAPTER II.
Tommy and the Ragged Boy--Story of Androcles and the
Lion--Conversation on Slavery--Conversation about an
Ass--Tommy's Present and its consequences--The Story of
Cyrus--Squire Chase beats Harry--Harry saves the Squire's
life--Making Bread--Story of the Two Brothers--Story of
the Sailors on the Island of Spitzbergen, 47
CHAPTER III.
Harry's Chicken--Tommy tries kindness on the Pig--Account
of the Elephant--Story of the Elephant and the Tailor--Story
of the Elephant and the Child--Stories of the Good Natured Boy
and the Ill Natured Boy--The Boys determine to Build a
House--Story of the Grateful Turk--The Boys' House blown
down--They rebuild it stronger--The Roof lets in the Rain--At
last is made Water-tight, 95
CHAPTER IV.
The Boys' Garden--The Crocodile--The Farmer's Wife--How to
make Cider--The Bailiffs take possession of the Farmer's
Furniture--Tommy pays the Farmer's Debt--Conclusion of the
Story of the Grateful Turk--The three Bears--Tommy and the
Monkey--Habits of the Monkey--Tommy's Robin Redbreast--Is
killed by a Cat--The Cat punished--The Laplanders--Story of
a Cure of the Gout, 185
CHAPTER V.
Lost in the Snow--Jack Smithers' Home--Talk about the
Stars--Harry's pursuit of The Will-o'-the-Wisp--Story of
the Avalanche--Town and Country compared--The Power of the
Lever--The Balance--The Wheel and Axle--Arithmetic--Buying
a Horse--History of Agesilaus--History of Leonidas, 197
CHAPTER VI.
The Constellations--Distance from the Earth--The Magnet
and its Powers--The Compass--The Greenlanders and their
Customs--The Telescope--The Magic Lantern--Story of the
African Prince and the Telescope--Mr Barlow's Poor
Parishioners--His Annual Dinner--Tommy attempts Sledge
Driving--His mishap in the Pond--His Anger, 255
CHAPTER VII.
Tommy and Harry visit Home--The Fashionable Guests--Miss
Simmons takes notice of Harry--Harry's Troubles--Master
Compton and Mash--Estrangement of Tommy--Visit to the
Theatre--Misbehaviour there--Card Playing--The Ball--Harry
Dancing a Minuet--Story of Sir Philip Sidney--Master Mash
insults Harry--The Fight in the Drawing-room--The
Bull-baiting--Tommy strikes Harry--Master Mash's Combat
with Harry--Tommy's Narrow Escape from the Bull--The
Grateful Black, 298
CHAPTER VIII.
Arrival of Mr Barlow | 2,185.853128 |
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A Plain Introduction to the Criticism of the New Testament
For the Use of Biblical Students
By The Late
Frederick Henry Ambrose Scrivener
M.A., D.C.L., LL.D.
Prebendary of Exeter, Vicar of Hendon
Fourth Edition, Edited by
The Rev. Edward Miller, M.A.
Formerly Fellow and Tutor of New College, Oxford
Vol. I.
George Bell & Sons, York Street, Covent Garden
Londo, New York, and Cambridge
1894
CONTENTS
Preface To Fourth Edition.
Description Of The Contents Of The Lithographed Plates.
Addenda Et Corrigenda.
Chapter I. Preliminary Considerations.
Chapter II. General Character Of The Greek Manuscripts Of The New
Testament.
Chapter III. Divisions Of The Text, And Other Particulars.
Appendix To Chapter III. Synaxarion And Eclogadion Of The Gospels And
Apostolic Writings Daily Throughout The Year.
Chapter IV. The Larger Uncial Manuscripts Of The Greek Testament.
Chapter V. Uncial Manuscripts Of The Gospels.
Chapter VI. Uncial Manuscripts Of The Acts And Catholic Epistles, Of St.
Paul's Epistles, And Of The Apocalypse.
Chapter VII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part I.
Chapter VIII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part II.
Chapter IX. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part III.
Chapter X. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Acts And Catholic Epistles.
Chapter XI. Cursive Manuscripts Of St. Paul's Epistles.
Chapter XII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Apocalypse.
Chapter XIII. Evangelistaries, Or Manuscript Service-Books Of The Gospels.
Chapter XIV. Lectionaries Containing The Apostolos Or Praxapostolos.
Appendix A. Chief Authorities.
Appendix B. On Facsimiles.
Appendix C. On Dating By Indiction.
Appendix D. On The {~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}.
Appendix E. Table Of Differences Between The Fourth Edition Of Dr.
Scrivener's Plain Introduction And Dr. Gregory's Prolegomena.
Index I. Of Greek Manuscripts.
Index II. Of Writers, Past Owners, And Collators Of Mss.
Footnotes
[Illustration.]
Frederick Henry Ambrose Scrivener
In templo Dei offert unusquisque quod potest: alii aurum, argentum, et
lapides pretiosos: alii byssum et purpuram et coccum offerunt et
hyacinthum. Nobiscum bene agitur, si obtulerimus pelles et caprarum pilos.
Et tamen Apostolus contemtibiliora nostra magis necessaria judicat.
HIERONYMI _Prologus Galeatus_.
Dedication
[In The Third Edition]
_To His Grace_
_Edward, Lord Archbishop of Canterbury_.
MY LORD ARCHBISHOP,
Nearly forty years ago, under encouragement from your venerated
predecessor Archbishop Howley, and with the friendly help of his Librarian
Dr. Maitland, I entered upon the work of collating manuscripts of the
Greek New Testament by examining the copies brought from the East by
Professor Carlyle, and purchased for the Lambeth Library in 1805. I was
soon called away from this employment--{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI AND YPOGEGRAMMENI~}--to less
congenial duties in that remote county, wherein long after it was your
Grace's happy privilege to refresh the spirits of Churchmen and
Churchwomen, by giving them pious work to do, and an example in the doing
of it. What I have since been able to accomplish in the pursuits of sacred
criticism, although very much less than I once anticipated, has proved, I
would fain hope, not without its use to those who love Holy Scripture, and
the studies which help to the understanding of the same.
Among the scholars whose sympathy cheered and aided my Biblical labours
from time to time, I have had the honour of including your Grace; yet it
would be at once unseemly and fallacious to assume from that circumstance,
that the principles of textual criticism which I have consistently
advocated have approved themselves to your judgement. All that I can look
for or desire in this respect is that I may seem to you to have stated my
case fairly and temperately, in earnest controversy with opponents far my
superiors in learning and dialectic power, and for whom, in spite of
literary differences, I entertain deep respect and true regard.
My Lord, you have been called by Divine Providence to the first place in
our Communion, and have entered upon your great office attended by the
applauses, the hopeful wishes, and the hearty prayers of the whole Church.
May it please God to endow you richly with the Christian gifts as well of
wisdom as of courage: for indeed the highest minister of the Church of
England, no less than the humblest, will need courage in the coming time,
now that faith is waxing cold and adversaries are many.
I am, my Lord Archbishop,
Your obliged and faithful servant,
F. H. A. Scrivener.
HENDON VICARAGE,
_Whitsuntide_, 1883.
PREFACE TO FOURTH EDITION.
At the time of the lamented death of Dr. Scrivener a new edition of his
standard work was called for, and it was supposed that the great Master of
Textual Criticism had himself made sufficient corrections and additions
for the purpose in the margin of his copy. When the publishers committed
to me the task of preparation, I was fully aware of the absolute necessity
of going far beyond the materials placed at my disposal, if the book were
to be really useful as being abreast of the very great progress
accomplished in the last ten years. But it was not till I had laboured
with absolute loyalty for some months that I discovered from my own
observation, and from the advice of some of the first textual critics, how
much alteration must at once be made.
Dr. Scrivener evidently prepared the Third Edition under great
disadvantage. He had a parish of more than 5,500 inhabitants upon his
hands, with the necessity of making provision for increase in the
population. The result was that after adding 125 pages to his book he had
an attack of paralysis, and so it is not surprising that his work was not
wholly conducted upon the high level of his previous publications. The
book has also laboured under another and greater disadvantage of too
rapid, though unavoidable, growth. The 506 pages of the First Edition have
been successively expanded into 626 pages in the Second, 751 in the Third,
and 874 in the Fourth; while the framework originally adopted, consisting
only of nine chapters, was manifestly inadequate to the mass of material
ultimately gathered. It has therefore been found necessary, as the work
proceeded, to do violence, amidst much delicate embarrassment, to feelings
of loyalty to the author forbidding alteration. The chief changes that
have been made are as follows:--
The first intention of keeping the materials within the compass of one
volume has been abandoned, and it has been divided into two volumes, with
an increase of chapters in each.
Instead of 2,094 manuscripts, as reckoned in the third edition under the
six classes, no less than 3,791 have been recorded in this edition, being
an increase of 236 beyond the 3,555 of Dr. Gregory, without counting the
numerous vacant places which have been filled up.
Most of the accounts of ancient versions have been rewritten by
distinguished scholars, who are leaders in their several departments.
The early part of Volume I has been enriched from the admirable book on
"Greek and Latin Palaeography," by Mr. E. Maunde Thompson, who with great
kindness placed the proof-sheets at my disposal before publication.
Changes have been made in the headlines, the indexes, and in the printing,
and sometimes in the arrangement, which will, I trust, enable the reader
to find his way more easily about the treatise.
And many corrections suggested by eminent scholars have been introduced in
different places all through the work.
A most pleasing duty now is to tender my best thanks to the Right Reverend
the Lord Bishop of Salisbury and the Rev. H. J. White, M.A., for the
rewriting of the chapter on Latin Versions by the latter under Dr. John
Wordsworth's supervision, with help from M. Samuel Berger; to the Rev. G.
H. Gwilliam, B.D., Fellow of Hertford College, now editing the Peshitto
for the University of Oxford, for the improvement of the passages upon the
Peshitto and the Curetonian; the Rev. H. Deane, B.D., for additions to the
treatment of the Harkleian; and the Rev. Dr. Walker, Principal of St.
John's Hall, Highbury, for the results of a collation of the Peshitto and
Curetonian; to the Rev. A. C. Headlam, M.A., Fellow of All Souls College,
for a revision of the long chapter upon Egyptian Versions; to F. C.
Conybeare, Esq., M.A., late Fellow of University College, for rewriting
the sections on the Armenian and Georgian Versions; to Professor
Margoliouth, M.A., Fellow of New College, for rewriting the sections on
the Arabic and Ethiopic Versions; to the Rev. Ll. J. M. Bebb, M.A., Fellow
of Brasenose College, for rewriting the section upon the Slavonic Version;
to Dr. James W. Bright, Assistant-Professor in the Johns Hopkins
University, for rewriting the section on the Anglo-Saxon Version, through
Mr. White's kind offices; to E. Maunde Thompson, Esq., D.C.L., LL.D.,
F.S.A., &c., for kindness already mentioned, and other help, and to G. F.
Warner, Esq., M.A., of the Manuscript Department of the British Museum,
for correction of some of the notices of cursive MSS. belonging to the
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Produced by Marius Masi, Don Kretz and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's notes:
(1) Numbers following letters (without space) like C2 were originally
printed in subscript. Letter subscripts are preceded by an
underscore, like C_n.
(2) Characters following a carat (^) were printed in superscript.
(3) Side-notes were relocated to function as titles of their respective
paragraphs.
(4) Macrons and breves above letters and dots below letters were not
inserted.
(5) [int] stands for the integral symbol; [alpha], [beta], etc. for
greek letters and [oo] for infinity.
(6) The following typographical errors have been corrected:
ARTICLE FORESTS AND FORESTRY: "These trees will all be of
increasing importance." 'will' amended from 'wil'.
ARTICLE FORM : "All perception is necessarily conditioned by pure
'forms of sensibility,' i.e. space and time: whatever is perceived
is perceived as having spacial and temporal relations (see SPACE
AND TIME; KANT)."'spacial' amended from'special'.
ARTICLE FORMOSA: "The vegetation of the island is characterized by
tropical luxuriance,--the mountainous regions being clad with dense
forest, in which various species of palms, the camphor-tree (Laurus
Camphora), and the aloe are conspicuous."'mountainous' amended
from'moutainous'.
ARTICLE FORMOSA: "... in 1624 they built a fort, Zelandia, on the
east coast, where subsequently rose the town of Taiwan, and the
settlement was maintained for thirty-seven years." 'thirty' amended
from 'thrity'.
ARTICLE FORSTER, JOHANN GEORG ADAM: "At Cassel Forster formed an
intimate friendship with the great anatomist Sommerring, and about
the same time made the acquaintance of Jacobi, who gave him a
leaning towards mysticism from which he subsequently emancipated
himself."'subsequently' amended from'subequently'.
ARTICLE FORTIFICATION AND SIEGECRAFT: "At the sieges of Tyre and
Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar in 587 B.C. we first find mention of
the ram and of movable towers placed on mounds to overlook the
walls." 'Nebuchadnezzar' amended from 'Nebuchadrezzar'.
ARTICLE FORTIFICATION AND SIEGECRAFT: "The Germanic Confederation
reinforced Mainz with improved works, and reorganized entirely
Rastatt and Ulm." 'entirely' amended from 'enentirely'.
ARTICLE FORTIFICATION AND SIEGECRAFT: "For the fate of the fortress
must depend ultimately on the result of the operations of the
active armies." 'ultimately' amended from 'utlimately'.
ARTICLE FOSCOLO, UGO: "... found their final resting-place beside
the monuments of Machiavelli and Alfieri, of Michelangelo and
Galileo, in Italy's Westminster Abbey, the church of Santa Croce."
'Machiavelli' amended from 'Macchiavelli'.
ARTICLE FOSSANO: "It appears as a commune in 1237, but in 1251 had
to yield to Asti. It finally surrendered in 1314 to Filippo
d'Acaia, whose successor handed it over to the house of Savoy."
'Filippo' amended from 'Fillippo'.
ARTICLE FOURIER'S SERIES: "Besides Dini's treatise already referred
to, there is a lucid treatment of the subject from an elementary
point of view in C. Neumann's treatise, Uber die nach Kreis-,
Kugel- und Cylinder-Functionen fortschreitenden Entwickelungen."
'subject' amended from'subejct'.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE
AND GENERAL INFORMATION
ELEVENTH EDITION
VOLUME X, SLICE VI
Foraminifera to Fox, Edward
ARTICLES IN THIS SLICE:
FORAMINIFERA FORT LEE
FORBACH FORT MADISON
FORBES, ALEXANDER PENROSE FORTROSE
FORBES, ARCHIBALD FORT SCOTT
FORBES, DAVID FORT SMITH
FORBES, DUNCAN FORTUNA
FORBES, EDWARD FORTUNATIANUS, ATILIUS
FORBES, JAMES DAVID | 2,185.854082 |
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Produced by David Widger
HUCKLEBERRY FINN
By Mark Twain
Part 4.
CHAPTER XVI.
WE slept most all day, and started out at night, a little ways behind a
monstrous long raft that was as long going by as a procession. She had
four long sweeps at each end, so we judged she carried as many as thirty
men, likely. She had five big wigwams aboard, wide apart, and an open
camp fire in the middle, and a tall flag-pole at each end. There was a
power of style about her. It AMOUNTED to something being a raftsman on
such a craft as that.
We went drifting down into a big bend, and the night clouded up and got
hot. The river was very wide, and was walled with solid timber on both
sides; you couldn't see a break in it hardly ever, or a light. We talked
about Cairo, and wondered whether we would know it when we got to it. I
said likely we wouldn't, because I had heard say there warn't but about a
dozen houses there, and if they didn't happen to have them lit up, how
was we going to know we was passing a town? Jim said if the two big
rivers joined together there, that would show. But I said maybe we might
think we was passing the foot of an island and coming into the same old
river again. That disturbed Jim--and me too. So the question was, what
to do? I said, paddle ashore the first time a light showed, and tell
them pap was behind, coming along with a trading-scow, and was a green
hand at the business, and wanted to know how far it was to Cairo. Jim
thought it was a good idea, so we took a smoke on it and waited.
There warn't nothing to do now but to look out sharp for the town, and
not pass it without seeing it. He said he'd be mighty sure to see it,
because he'd be a free man the minute he seen it, but if he missed it
he'd be in a slave country again and no more show for freedom. Every
little while he jumps up and says:
"Dah she is?"
But it warn't. It was Jack-o'-lanterns, or lightning bugs; so he set
down again, and went to watching, same as before. Jim said it made him
all over trembly and feverish to be so close to freedom. Well, I can
tell you it made me all over trembly and feverish, too, to hear him,
because I begun to get it through my head that he WAS most free--and who
was to blame for it? Why, ME. I couldn't get that out of my conscience,
no how nor no way. It got to troubling me so I couldn't rest; I couldn't
stay still in one place. It hadn't ever come home to me before, what
this thing was that I was doing. But now it did; and it stayed with me,
and scorched me more and more. I tried to make out to myself that I
warn't to blame, because I didn't run Jim off from his rightful owner;
but it warn't no use, conscience up and says, every time, "But you knowed
he was running for his freedom, and you could a paddled ashore and told
somebody." That was so--I couldn't get around that noway. That was
where it pinched. Conscience says to me, "What had poor Miss Watson done
to you that you could see her <DW65> go off right under your eyes and
never say one single word? What did that poor old woman do to you that
you could treat her so mean? Why, she tried to learn you your book, she
tried to learn you your manners, she tried to be good to you every way
she knowed how. THAT'S what she done."
I got to feeling so mean and so miserable I most wished I was dead. I
fidgeted up and down the raft, abusing myself to myself, and Jim was
fidgeting up and down past me. We neither of us could keep still. Every
time he danced around and says, "Dah's Cairo!" it went through me like a
shot, and I thought if it WAS Cairo I reckoned I would die of
miserableness.
Jim talked out loud all the time while I was talking to myself. He was
saying how the first thing he would do when he got to a free State he
would go to saving up money and never spend a single cent, and when he
got enough he would buy his wife, which was owned on a farm close to
where Miss Watson lived; and then they would both work to buy the two
children, and if their master wouldn't sell them, they'd get an
Ab'litionist to go and steal them.
It most froze me to hear such talk. He wouldn't ever dared to talk such
talk in his life before. Just see what a difference it made in him the
minute he judged he was about free. It was according to the old saying,
"Give a <DW65> an inch and he'll take an ell." Thinks I, this is what
comes of my not thinking. Here was this <DW65>, which I had as good as
helped to run away, coming right out flat-footed and saying he would
steal his children--children that belonged to a man I didn't even know; a
man that hadn't ever done me no harm.
I was sorry to hear Jim say that, it was such a lowering of him. My
conscience got to stirring me up hotter than ever, until at last I says
to it, "Let up on me--it ain't too late yet--I'll paddle ashore at the
first light and tell." I felt easy and happy and light as a feather
right off. All my troubles was gone. I went to looking out sharp for a
light, and sort of singing to myself. By and by one showed. Jim sings
out:
"We's safe, Huck, we's safe! Jump up and crack yo' heels! Dat's de good
ole Cairo at las', I jis knows it!"
I says:
"I'll take the canoe and go and see, Jim. It mightn't be, you know."
He jumped and got the canoe ready, and put his old coat in the bottom for
me to set on, and give me the paddle; and as I shoved off, he says:
"Pooty soon I'll be a-shout'n' for joy, en I'll say, it's all on accounts
o' Huck; I's a free man, en I couldn't ever ben free ef it hadn' ben for
Huck; Huck done it. Jim won't ever forgit you, Huck; you's de bes' fren'
Jim's ever had; en you's de ONLY fren' ole Jim's got now."
I was paddling off, all in a sweat to tell on him; but when he says this,
it seemed to kind of take the tuck all out of me. I went along slow
then, and I warn't right down certain whether I was glad I started or
whether I warn't. When I was fifty yards off, Jim says:
"Dah you goes, de ole true Huck; de on'y white genlman dat ever kep' his
promise to ole Jim."
Well, I just felt sick. But I says, I GOT to do it--I can't get OUT of
it. Right then along comes a skiff with two men in it with guns, and
they stopped and I stopped. One of them says:
"What's that yonder?"
"A piece of a raft," I says.
"Do you belong on it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Any men on it?"
"Only one, sir."
"Well, there's five <DW65>s run off to-night up yonder, above the head of
the bend. Is your man white or black?"
I didn't answer up prompt. I tried to, but the words wouldn't come. I
tried for a second or two to brace up and out with it, but I warn't man
enough--hadn't the spunk of a rabbit. I see I was weakening; so I just
give up trying, and up and says:
"He's white."
"I reckon we'll go and see for ourselves."
"I wish you would," says I, "because it's pap that's there, and maybe
you'd help me tow the raft ashore where the light is. He's sick--and so
is mam and Mary Ann."
"Oh, the devil! we're in a hurry, boy. But I s'pose we've got to. Come,
buckle to your paddle, and let's get along."
I buckled to my paddle and they laid to their oars. When we had made a
stroke or two, I says:
"Pap'll be mighty much obleeged to you, I can tell you. Everybody goes
away when I want them to help me tow the raft ashore, and I can't do it
by myself."
"Well, that's infernal mean. Odd, too. Say, boy, what's the matter with
your father?"
"It's the--a--the--well, it ain't anything much."
They stopped pulling. It warn't but a mighty little ways to the raft
now. One says:
"Boy, that's a lie. What IS the matter with your pap? Answer up square
now, and it'll be the better for you."
"I will, sir, I will, honest--but don't leave us, please. It's the--the
--Gentlemen, if you'll only pull ahead, and let me heave you the
headline, you won't have to come a-near the raft--please do."
"Set her back, John, set her back!" says one. They backed water. "Keep
away, boy--keep to looard. Confound it, I just expect the wind has
blowed it to us. Your pap's got the small-pox, and you know it precious
well. Why didn't you come out and say so? Do you want to spread it all
over?"
"Well," says I, a-blubbering, "I've told everybody before, and they just
went away and left us."
"Poor devil, there's something in that. We are right down sorry for you,
but we--well, hang it, we don't want the small-pox, you see. Look here,
I'll tell you what to do. Don't you try to land by yourself, or you'll
smash everything to pieces. You float along down about twenty miles, and
you'll come to a town on the left-hand side of the river. It will be
long after sun-up then, and when you ask for help you tell them your
folks are all down with chills and fever. Don't be a fool again, and let
people guess what is the matter. Now we're trying to do you a kindness;
so you just put twenty miles between us, that's a good boy. It wouldn't
do any good to land yonder where the light is--it's only a wood-yard.
Say, I reckon your father's poor, and I'm bound to say he's in pretty
hard luck. Here, I'll put a twenty-dollar gold piece on this board, and
you get it when it floats by. I feel mighty mean to leave you; but my
kingdom! it won't do to fool with small-pox, don't you see?"
"Hold on, Parker," says the other man, "here's a twenty to put on the
board for me. Good-bye, boy; you do as Mr. Parker told you, and you'll
be all right."
"That's so, my boy--good-bye, good-bye. If you see any runaway <DW65>s
you get help and nab them, and you can make some money by it."
"Good-bye, sir," says I; "I won't let no runaway <DW65>s get by me if I
can help it."
They went off and I got aboard the raft, feeling bad and low, because I
knowed very well I had done wrong, and I see it warn't no use for me to
try to learn to do right; a body that don't get STARTED right when he's
little ain't got no show--when the pinch comes there ain't nothing to
back him up and keep him to his work, and so he gets beat. Then I
thought a minute, and says to myself, hold on; s'pose you'd a done right
and give Jim up, would you felt better than what you do now? No, says I,
I'd feel bad--I'd feel just the same way I do now. Well, then, says I,
what's the use you learning to do right when it's troublesome to do right
and ain't no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same? I was
stuck. I couldn't answer that. So I reckoned I wouldn't bother no more
about it, but after this always do whichever come handiest at the time.
I went into the wigwam; Jim warn't there. I looked all around; he warn't
anywhere. I says:
"Jim!"
"Here I is, Huck. Is dey out o' sight yit? Don't talk loud."
He was in the river under the stern oar, with just his nose out. I told
him they were out of sight, so he come aboard. He says:
"I was a-listenin' to all de talk, en I slips into de river en was gwyne
to shove for sho' if dey come aboard. Den I was gwyne to swim to de raf'
agin when dey was gone. But lawsy, how you did fool 'em, Huck! Dat WUZ
de smartes' dodge! I tell you, chile, I'spec it save' ole Jim--ole Jim
ain't going to forgit you for dat, honey."
Then we talked about the money. It was a pretty good raise--twenty
dollars apiece. Jim said we could take deck passage on a steamboat now,
and the money would last us as far as we wanted to go in the free States.
He said twenty mile more warn't far for the raft to go, but he wished we
was already there.
Towards daybreak we tied up, and Jim was mighty particular about hiding
the raft good. Then he worked all day fixing things in bundles, and
getting all ready to quit rafting.
That night about ten we hove in sight of the lights of a town away down
in a left-hand bend.
I went off in the canoe to ask about it. Pretty soon I found a man out
in the river with a skiff, setting a trot-line. I ranged up and says:
"Mister, is that town Cairo?"
"Cairo? no. You must be a blame' fool."
"What town is it, mister?"
"If you want to know, go and find out. If you stay here botherin' around
me for about a half a minute longer you'll get something you won't want."
I paddled to the raft. Jim was awful disappointed, but I said never
mind, Cairo would be the next place, I reckoned.
We passed another town before daylight, and I was going out again; but it
was high ground, so I didn't go. No high ground about Cairo, Jim said.
I had forgot it. We laid up for the day on a towhead tolerable close to
the left-hand bank. I begun to suspicion something. So did Jim. I
says:
"Maybe we went by Cairo in the fog that night."
He says:
"Doan' le's talk about it, Huck. Po' <DW65>s can't have no luck. I
awluz'spected dat rattlesnake-skin warn't done wid its work."
"I wish I'd never seen that snake-skin, Jim--I do wish I'd never laid
eyes on it."
"It ain't yo' fault, Huck; you didn' know. Don't you blame yo'self 'bout
it."
When it was daylight, here was the clear Ohio water inshore, sure enough,
and outside was the old regular Muddy! So it was all up with Cairo.
We talked it all over. It wouldn't do to take to the shore; we couldn't
take the raft up the stream, of course. There warn't no way but to wait
for dark, and start back in the canoe and take the chances. So we slept
all day amongst the cottonwood thicket, so as to be fresh for the work,
and when we went back to the raft about dark the canoe was gone!
We didn't say a word for a good while. There warn't anything to say. We
both knowed well enough it was some more work of the rattlesnake-skin; so
what was the use to talk about it? It would only look like we was
finding fault, and that would be bound to fetch more bad luck--and keep
on fetching it, too, till we knowed enough to keep still.
By and by we talked about what we better do, and found there warn't no
way but just to go along down with the raft till we got a chance to buy a
canoe to go back in. We warn't going to borrow it when there warn't
anybody around, the way pap would do, for that might set people after us.
So we shoved out after dark on the raft.
Anybody that don't believe yet that it's foolishness to handle a
snake-skin, after all that that snake-skin done for us, will believe
it now if they read on and see what more it done for us.
The place to buy canoes is off of rafts laying up at shore. But we
didn't see no rafts laying up; so we went along during three hours and
more. Well, the night got gray and ruther thick, which is the next
meanest thing to fog. You can't tell the shape of the river, and you
can't see no distance. It got to be very late and still, and then along
comes a steamboat up the river. We lit the lantern, and judged she would
see it. Up-stream boats didn't generly come close to us; they go out and
follow the bars and hunt for easy water under the reefs; but nights like
this they bull right up the channel against the whole river.
We could hear her pounding along, but we didn't see her good till she was
close. She aimed right for us. Often they do that and try to see how
close they can come without touching; sometimes the wheel bites off a
sweep, and then the pilot sticks his head out and laughs, and thinks he's
mighty smart. Well, here she comes, and we said she was going to try and
shave us; but she didn't seem to be sheering off a bit. She was a big
one, and she was coming in a hurry, too, looking like a black cloud with
rows of glow-worms around it; but all of a sudden she bulged out, big and
scary, with a long row of wide-open furnace doors shining like red-hot
teeth, and her monstrous bows and guards hanging right over us. There
was a yell at us, and a jingling of bells to stop the engines, a powwow
of cussing, and whistling of steam--and as Jim went overboard on one side
and I on the other, she come smashing straight through the raft.
I dived--and I aimed to find the bottom, too, for a thirty-foot wheel had
got to go over me, and I wanted it to have plenty of room. I could
always stay under water a minute; this time I reckon I stayed under a
minute and a half. Then I bounced for the top in a hurry, for I was
nearly busting. I popped out to my armpits and blowed the water out of
my nose, and puffed a bit. Of course there was a booming current; and of
course that boat started her engines again ten seconds after she stopped
them, for they never cared much for raftsmen; so now she was churning
along up the river, out of sight in the thick weather, though I could
hear her.
I sung out for Jim about a dozen times, but I didn't get any answer; so I
grabbed a plank that touched me while I was "treading water," and struck
out for shore, shoving it ahead of me. But I made out to see that the
drift of the current was towards the left-hand shore, which meant that I
was in a crossing; so I changed off and went that way.
It was one of these long, slanting, two-mile crossings; so I was a good
long time in getting over. I made a safe landing, and clumb up the bank.
I couldn't see but a little ways, but I went poking along over rough
ground for a quarter of a mile or more, and then I run across a big
old-fashioned double log-house before I noticed it. I was going to rush
by and get away, but a lot of dogs jumped out and went to howling and
barking at me, and I knowed better than to move another peg.
CHAPTER XVII.
IN about a minute somebody spoke out of a window without putting his head
out, and says:
"Be done, boys! Who's there?"
I says:
"It's me."
"Who's me?"
"George Jackson, sir."
"What do you want?"
"I don't want nothing, sir. I only want to go along by, but the dogs
won't let me."
"What are you prowling around here this time of night for--hey?"
"I warn't prowling around, sir, I fell overboard off of the steamboat."
"Oh, you did, did you? Strike a light there, somebody. What did you say
your name was?"
"George Jackson, sir. I'm only a boy."
"Look here, if you're telling the truth you needn't be afraid--nobody'll
hurt you. But don't try to budge; stand right where you are. Rouse out
Bob and Tom, some of you, and fetch the guns. George Jackson, is there
anybody with you?"
"No, sir, nobody."
I heard the people stirring around in the house now, and see a light.
The man sung out:
"Snatch that light away, Betsy, you old fool--ain't you got any sense?
Put it on the floor behind the front door. Bob, if you and Tom are
ready, take your places."
"All ready."
"Now, George Jackson, do you know the Shepherdsons?"
"No, sir; I never heard of them."
"Well, that may be so, and it mayn't. Now, all ready. Step forward,
George Jackson. And mind, don't you hurry--come mighty slow. If there's
anybody with you, let him keep back--if he shows himself he'll be shot.
Come along now. Come slow; push the door open yourself--just enough to
squeeze in, d' you hear?"
I didn't hurry; I couldn't if I'd a wanted to. I took one slow step at a
time and there warn't a sound, only I thought I could hear my heart. The
dogs were as still as the humans, but they followed a little behind me.
When I got to the three log doorsteps I heard them unlocking and
unbarring and unbolting. I put my hand on the door and pushed it a
little and a little more till somebody said, "There, that's enough--put
your head in." I done it, but I judged they would take it off.
The candle was on the floor, and there they all was, looking at me, and
me at them, for about a quarter of a minute: Three big men with guns
pointed at me, which made me wince, I tell you; the oldest, gray and
about sixty, the other two thirty or more--all of them fine and handsome
--and the sweetest old gray-headed lady, and back of her two young women
which I couldn't see right well. The old gentleman says:
"There; I reckon it's all right. Come in."
As soon as I was in the old gentleman he locked the door and barred it
and bolted it, and told the young men to come in with their guns, and
they all went in a big parlor that had a new rag carpet on the floor, and
got together in a corner that was out of the range of the front windows
--there warn't none on the side. They held the candle, and took a good
look at me, and all said, "Why, HE ain't a Shepherdson--no, there ain't
any Shepherdson about him." Then the old man said he hoped I wouldn't
mind being searched for arms, because he didn't mean no harm by it--it
was only to make sure. So he didn't pry into my pockets, but only felt
outside with his hands, and said it was all right. He told me to make
myself easy and at home, and tell all about myself; but the old lady
says:
"Why, bless you, Saul, the poor thing's as wet as he can be; and don't
you reckon it may be he's hungry?"
"True for you, Rachel--I forgot."
So the old lady says:
"Betsy" (this was a <DW65> woman), "you fly around and get him something
to eat as quick as you can, poor thing; and one of you girls go and wake
up Buck and tell him--oh, here he is himself. Buck, take this little
stranger and get the wet clothes off from him and dress him up in some of
yours that's dry."
Buck looked about as old as me--thirteen or fourteen or along there,
though he was a little bigger than me. He hadn't on anything but a
shirt, and he was very frowzy-headed. He came in gaping and digging one
fist into his eyes, and he was dragging a gun along with the other one.
He says:
"Ain't they no Shepherdsons around?"
They said, no, 'twas a false alarm.
"Well," he says, "if they'd a ben some, I reckon I'd a got one."
| 2,185.949899 |
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Unless otherwise noted, spelling, punctuation and capitalization in the
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The Augustan Reprint Society
HENRY MORE
_Democritus
Platonissans_
(1646)
_Introduction by_
P. G. STANWOOD
Publication Number 130
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
University of California, Los Angeles
1968
GENERAL EDITORS
George Robert Guffey, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Maximillian E. Novak, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Robert Vosper, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
ADVISORY EDITORS
Richard C. Boys, _University of Michigan_
James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_
Ralph Cohen, _University of Virginia_
Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_
Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
Earl Miner, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_
Everett T. Moore, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Lawrence Clark Powell, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
James Sutherland, _University College, London_
H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
Edna C. Davis, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
INTRODUCTION
Henry More (1614-1687), the most interesting member of that group
traditionally known as the Cambridge Platonists, lived conscientiously
and well. Having early set out on one course, he never thought to change
it; he devoted his whole life to the joy of celebrating, again and
again, "a firm and unshaken Belief of the Existence of GOD..., a God
infinitely Good, as well as infinitely Great...."[1] Such faith was
for More the starting point of his rational understanding: "with the
most fervent Prayers" he beseeched God, in his autobiographical
"Praefatio Generalissima," "to set me free from the dark Chains, and
this so sordid Captivity of my own Will." More offered to faith all
which his reason could know, and so it happened that he "was got into a
most Joyous and Lucid State of Mind," something quite ineffable; to
preserve these "Sensations and Experiences of my own Soul," he wrote
"a pretty full Poem call'd _Psychozoia_" (or _A Christiano-Platonicall
display of Life_), an exercise begun about 1640 and designed for no
audience but himself. There were times, More continued in his
autobiographical remarks, when he thought of destroying _Psychozoia_
because its style is rough and its language filled with archaisms. His
principal purpose in that poem was to demonstrate in detail the
spiritual foundation of all existence; Psyche, his heroine, is the
daughter of the Absolute, the general Soul who holds together the
metaphysical universe, against whom he sees reflected his own soul's
mystical progress. More must, nevertheless, have been pleased with his
labor, for he next wrote _Psychathanasia Platonica: or Platonicall Poem
of the | 2,185.949939 |
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Proofreading Team
BY-WAYS OF BOMBAY.
BY
S. M. EDWARDES, C.V.O.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The various chapters of this book originally appeared under the
_nom-de-plume_ of "Etonensis" in the _Times of India_, to the
proprietors of which journal I am indebted for permission to publish them
in book-form, They cannot claim to be considered critical studies, but are
merely a brief record of persons whom I have met and of things that I have
seen during several years' service as a Government official in Bombay. In
placing them before the public in their present form, I can only hope
that they will be found of brief interest by those unacquainted with the
inner life of the City of Bombay.
HEAD POLICE OFFICE,
BOMBAY, _June 1912_.
S. M. E.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
The first edition of "By-ways of Bombay" having been sold out within a
month, Messrs Taraporevala Sons and Co. have interested themselves in
publishing the present edition which includes several illustrations by Mr.
M. V. Dhurandhar and an additional article on the Tilak Riots which
appeared in the _Bombay Gazette_ in August, 1908. My acknowledgments
are due to the Editor for permission to republish this article.
HEAD POLICE OFFICE,
BOMBAY. _November, 1912_.
S. M. EDWARDES.
CONTENTS
I. The Spirit of Chandrabai
II. Bombay Scenes
III. Shadows of Night
IV. The Birthplace of Shivaji
V. The Story of Imtiazan
VI. The Bombay Mohurrum
VII. The Possession of Afiza
VIII. A Kasumba Den
IX. The Ganesh Caves
X. A Bhandari Mystery
XI. Scenes in Bombay
XII. Citizens of Bombay
XIII. The Sidis of Bombay
XIV. A Konkan Legend
XV. Nur Jan
XVI. Governor and Koli
XVII. The Tribe Errant
XVIII. The Pandu-Lena Caves
XIX. Fateh Muhammad
XX. The Tilak Riots
ILLUSTRATIONS.
1. Spirit of Chandrabai
2. A Mill-hand
3. A Marwari selling Batasa
4. The seller of "Malpurwa Jaleibi"
5. A Koli woman
6. The "Pan" Seller
7. An Opium Club
8. A "Madak-khana"
9. Imtiazan
10. The Possession of Afiza
11. A Bhandari Mystery
12. An Arab
13. A Bombay Memon
14. Sidis of Bombay
15. The Parshurama and the Chitpavans
16. Nur Jan
17. A Koli
18. A Deccani Fruit-seller
19. The Coffee-seller
20. Fateh Muhammad
[Illustration: The Spirit of Chandrabai]
I.
THE SPIRIT OF CHANDRABAI.
A STUDY IN PROTECTIVE MAGIC.
Fear reigned in the house of Vishnu the fisherman: for, but a week before,
his wife Chandra had died in giving birth to a child who survived his
mother but a few hours, and during those seven days all the elders and the
wise women of the community came one after another unto Vishnu and,
impressing upon him the malignant influence of such untimely deaths, bade
him for the sake of himself and his family do all in his power to lay the
spirit of his dead wife. So on a certain night early in December Vishnu
called all his caste-brethren into the room where Chandra had died, having
first arranged there a brass salver containing a ball of flour loosely
encased in thread, a miniature cot with the legs fashioned out of the
berries of the "bhendi," and several small silver rings and bangles, a
coral necklace and a quaint silver chain, which were destined to be hung in
due season upon the wooden peg symbolical of his dead wife's spirit in the
"devaghar," or gods' room, of his house. And he called thither also Rama
the "Gondhali," master of occult ceremonies, Vishram, his disciple, and
Krishna the "Bhagat" or medium, who is beloved of the ghosts of the
departed and often bears their messages unto the living.
When all are assembled, the women of the community raise the brass salver
and head a procession to the seashore, none being left in the dead woman's
room save Krishna the medium who sits motionless in the centre thereof; and
on the dry shingle the women place the salver and two brass "lotas" filled
with milk and water, while the company ranges itself in a semi-circle
around Rama the Gondhali, squatting directly in front of the platter. For a
moment he sits wrapped in thought, and then commences a weird chant of
invocation to the spirit of the dead woman, during which her relations in
turn drop a copper coin into the salver. "Chandrabai," he wails "take this
thy husband's gift of sorrow;" and as the company echoes his lament, Vishnu
rises and drops his coin into the plate. Then her four brothers drop a coin
apiece; her sister-in-law, whispering "It is for food" does likewise; also
her mother with the words "choli patal" or "Tis a robe and bodice for
thee";--and so on until all the relatives have cast down their
offerings,--one promising a fair couch, another an umbrella, a third a
pair of shoes, and little Moti, the dead woman's eldest child, "a pair of
bangles for my mother," until in truth all the small luxuries that the
dead woman may require in the life beyond have been granted. Meanwhile
the strange invocation proceeds. All the dead ancestors of the family, who
are represented by the quaint ghost-pegs in the gods' room of Vishnu's
home, are solemnly addressed and besought to receive the dead woman in
kindly fashion; and as each copper coin tinkles in the salver, Rama cries,
"Receive this, Chandrabai, and hie thee to thy last resting-place."
When the last offering has been made, the women again raise the salver and
the party fares back to Vishnu's house, where a rude shrine of Satvai (the
Sixth Mother) has been prepared. "For," whispers our guide, "Chandrabai
died without worshipping Satvai and her spirit must perforce fulfil those
rites." Close to the shrine sits a midwife keeping guard over a new gauze
cloth, a sari and a bodice, purchased for the spirit of Chandrabai; and on
a plate close at hand are vermilion for her brow, antimony for her eyes, a
nose-ring, a comb, bangles and sweetmeats, such as she liked during her
life-time. When the shrine is reached, one of the brothers steps forward
with a winnowing-fan, the edge of which is plastered with ghi and supports
a lighted wick; and as he steps up to the shrine, the relations and friends
of the deceased again press forward and place offerings of fruit and
flowers in the fan. There he stands, holding the gifts towards the
amorphous simulacrum of the primeval Mother, while Rama the hierophant
beseeches her to send the spirit of the dead Chandrabai into the
winnowing-fan.
And lo! on a sudden the ghostly flame on the lip of the fan dies out! The
spirit of Chandrabai has come! Straightway Rama seizes the fan and followed
by the rest dashes into the room where Krishna the medium is still sitting.
Four or five men commence a wild refrain to the accompaniment of brazen
cymbals, and Rama passes the winnowing-fan, containing the dead woman's
spirit, over the head of the medium. "Let the spirit appear" shrieks Rama
amid the clashing of the cymbals.
"Let the spirit appear" he cries, as he blows a cloud of incense into
Krishna's face. The medium quivers like an aspen leaf; the dead woman's
brothers crawl forward and lay their foreheads upon his feet; he shakes
more violently as the spirit takes firmer hold upon him; and then with a
wild shriek he rolls upon the ground and lies, rent with paroxysms, his
face stretched upwards to the winnowing-fan. Louder and louder crash the
cymbals; louder rises the chant. "Who art thou?" cries Rama. "I am
Chandrabai," comes the answer. "Hast thou any wish unfulfilled?" asks the
midwife. "Nay, all my wishes have been met," cries the spirit through the
lips of the medium, "I am in very truth Chandrabai, who was, but am not
now, of this world." As the last words die away the men dash forward, twist
Krishna's hair into a knot behind, dress him, as he struggles, in the
female attire which the midwife has been guarding, and place in his hand a
wooden slab rudely carved into the semblance of a woman and child. "Away,
away to the underworld" chant the singers; and at the command Krishna
wrenches himself free from the men who are holding him and dashes out with
a yell into the night.
Straight as an arrow he heads for the seashore, his hands clutching the air
convulsively, his'sari' streaming in the night-breeze; and behind, like
hounds on the trail of the deer, come Rama, the brethren, the sisters, and
rest of the community. Over the shingle they stream and down on to the hard
wet sand. Some one digs a hole; another produces a black cock; and Rama
with a knife cuts its throat over the hole, imploring the spirit's
departure, at the very moment that Krishna with a final shriek plunges into
the sea. They follow him, carry him out of danger, and lay him, stark and
speechless, upon the margin of the waves.
Thence, after a pause and a final prayer, they bear him homeward, as men
bear a corpse, nor leave him until he has regained consciousness and his
very self. For with that last shrill cry the ghost of Chandrabai fled
across the waste waters to meet the pale ancestral dead and dwell with them
for evermore: and the house of Vishnu the fisherman was freed from the
curse of her vagrant and unpropitiated spirit. "She has never troubled me
since that day," says Vishnu; "but at times when I am out in my
fishing-boat and the wind blows softly from the west, I hear her voice
calling to me across the waters. And one day, if the gods are kind, I
shall sail westward to meet her!"
* * * * *
II.
BOMBAY SCENES.
MORNING.
"Binishin bar sari juyo guzari umr bibin
kin isharat zi jahani guzeran mara bas."
So wrote the great poet of Persia: "Sit thou on the bank of a stream and in
the flow of its waters watch the passing of thy life. Than this a vain and
fleeting world can grant thee no higher lesson." Of the human tides which
roll through the streets of the cities of the world, none are brighter or
more varied than that which fills the streets of Bombay. Here are Memon and
Khoja women in shirt and trousers ("kur | 2,185.950232 |
2023-11-16 18:53:29.9311280 | 1,064 | 15 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Library of Early
Journals.)
{401}
NOTES AND QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION FOR LITERARY MEN, ARTISTS, ANTIQUARIES,
GENEALOGISTS, ETC.
"When found, make a note of."--CAPTAIN CUTTLE.
* * * * *
No. 82.]
SATURDAY, MAY 24. 1851.
[Price Threepence. Stamped Edition 4d.
CONTENTS.
NOTES:-- Page
Note upon a Passage in "Measure for Measure" 401
Rhyming Latin Version of the Song on Robin Goodfellow,
by S. W. Singer 402
Folk Lore:--Devonshire Folk Lore: 1. Storms from
Conjuring; 2. The Heath-hounds; 3. Cock scares the
Fiend; 4. Cranmere Pool--St. Uncumber and the
offering of Oats--"Similia similibus curantur"--Cure
of large Neck 404
Dibdin's Library Companion 405
Minor Notes:--A Note on Dress--Curious Omen at
Marriage--Ventriloquist Hoax--Barker, the original
Panorama Painter 406
QUERIES:--
Minor Queries:--Vegetable Sympathy--Court Dress--Dieu
et mon Droit--Cachecope Bell--The Image
of both Churches--Double Names--"If this fair
Flower," &c.--Hugh Peachell--Sir John Marsham--Legend
represented in Frettenham Church--King
of Nineveh burns himself in his Palace--Butchers not
Jurymen--Redwing's Nest--Earth thrown upon the
Coffin--Family of Rowe--Portus Canum--Arms of
Sir John Davies--William Penn--Who were the
Writers in the North Briton? 407
MINOR QUERIES ANSWERED:--"Many a Word"--Roman
Catholic Church--Tick--Hylles' Arithmetic 409
REPLIES:--
Villenage 410
Maclean not Junius 411
Replies to Minor Queries:--The Ten Commandments--
Mounds, Munts, Mounts--San Graal--Epitaph on
the Countess of Pembroke 412
MISCELLANEOUS:--
Notes on Books, Sales, Catalogues, &c. 414
Books and Odd Volumes wanted 414
Notices to Correspondents 414
Advertisements 415
* * * * *
Notes.
NOTE UPON A PASSAGE IN "MEASURE FOR MEASURE."
The Third Act of _Measure for Measure_ opens with Isabella's visit to her
brother (Claudio) in the dungeon, where he lies under sentence of death. In
accordance with Claudio's earnest entreaty, she has sued for mercy to
Angelo, the sanctimonious deputy, and in the course of her allusion to the
only terms upon which Angelo is willing to remit the sentence, she informs
him that he "must die," and then continues:
"This outward-sainted deputy,--
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew,
As falcon doth the fowl,--is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell."
Whereupon (according to the reading of the folio of 1623) Claudio, who is
aware of Angelo's reputation for sanctity, exclaims in astonishment:
"The _prenzie_ Angelo?"
To which Isabella replies (according to the reading of the same edition):
"O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'st body to invest and cover
In _prenzie_ guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou might'st be freed?"
Claudio, still incredulous, rejoins:
"O, heavens! it cannot be."
The word _prenzie_ has given rise to much annotation, and it seems to be
universally agreed that the word is a misprint. The question is, what was
the word actually written, or intended, by Shakspeare? Steevens and Malone
suggested "princely;" Warburton, "priestly;" and Tieck, "prec | 2,185.951168 |
2023-11-16 18:53:29.9312110 | 2,424 | 9 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Whoso Findeth a Wife, by William Le Queux.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
WHOSO FINDETH A WIFE, BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX.
CHAPTER ONE.
A STATE SECRET.
"_Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the
Lord_."--Proverbs xviii, 22.
"Have those urgent dispatches come in from Berlin, Deedes?"
"Captain Hammerton has not yet arrived," I answered.
"Eleven o'clock! Tut, tut! Every moment's delay means greater risk,"
and the Earl of Warnham, Her Majesty's Principal Secretary of State for
Foreign Affairs, strode up and down his private room, with his hat still
on, impatiently snapping his bony fingers in agitation quite unusual to
him.
"Hammerton wired from Berlin yesterday, when on the point of leaving," I
observed, taking a telegram from the table before me.
"In cipher?"
"Yes."
"No accident is reported in the papers, I suppose?"
"Nothing in the _Times_," I replied.
"Strange, very strange, that he should be so long overdue," the Earl
said, at last casting himself into his padded chair, and lounging back,
his hands thrust deep into his pockets as he stared thoughtfully into
space.
I resumed my writing, puzzled at the cause of the chief's excited
demeanour, but a few moments later sharp footsteps sounded outside in
the corridor, followed by a loud rapping, and there entered the
messenger, clad in his heavy fur-lined travelling coat, although a July
morning, and carrying a well-worn leather dispatch-box, which he placed
upon my table.
"Late, Hammerton. Very late," snapped the Earl, glancing at his watch.
"There's a dense fog in the Channel, your Lordship, and we were
compelled to come across dead slow the whole distance. I've driven
straight from the station," the Captain answered good-humouredly,
looking so spruce and well-groomed that few would credit he had been
travelling for nearly twenty-four hours.
"Go and rest. You must return to-night," his Lordship said testily.
"At seven-thirty?"
"Yes, at my house in Berkeley Square."
Then, taking up the receipt I had signed for the dispatch-box, the
messenger, to whom a journey to Constantinople or St Petersburg was
about as fatiguing as a ride on the Underground Railway is to ordinary
persons, walked jauntily out, wishing us both good-day.
When the door had closed, Lord Warnham quickly opened the outer case
with his key, and drew forth a second box, covered with red morocco, and
securely sealed. This he also opened, and, after rummaging for some
moments among a quantity of papers, exclaimed, in a tone of
satisfaction,--
"Ah! Here it is. Good! Seals not tampered with."
Withdrawing from the box a large official envelope, doubly secured with
the seal of the British Embassy at Berlin, and endorsed by Sir Philip
Emden, our Ambassador, he walked hastily to one of the long windows
overlooking the paved courtyard of the Foreign Office, and for some
moments closely scrutinised both seals and signature.
"Did you fear that the papers might have been examined in transit?" I
inquired of my grave-faced chief in surprise.
"No, Deedes, no. Not at all," he answered, returning to his table,
cutting open the envelope, and giving a rapid glance at its contents to
assure himself that it was the same document he had sent to the German
capital a week before. "Hammerton is trustworthy, and while dispatches
are in his care I have no fear. The only apprehension I had was that an
attempt might possibly have been made to ascertain the nature of this
treaty," the great statesman added, indicating the document beneath his
hand.
"The result would be detrimental?" I hazarded.
"Detrimental!" he cried. "If the clauses of this secret defensive
alliance became known to our enemies war would be inevitable. Russia
and France would combine, and the whole of the Powers would become
embroiled within a week. Exposure of these secret negotiations would be
absolutely disastrous. It would, I verily believe, mean irretrievable
ruin to England's prestige and perhaps to her power."
He uttered the ominous words slowly and distinctly, then carefully
refolding the precious document, with its string of sprawly signatures,
he placed it in another envelope, sealing it with his own private seal.
The great statesman, the greatest Foreign Minister of his time, upon
whose tact, judgment and forethought the peace and prosperity of England
mainly depended, was tall and thin, with scanty, white hair, a pale,
refined face, slightly wizened by age, deep-sunken, steely eyes, shaggy
brows, a sharp, straight nose, and a breadth of forehead indicating
indomitable perseverance and an iron will. His reputation as brilliant
orator and shrewd and skilful diplomat was a household word throughout
the civilised world, whilst in our own land confidence always increased
when he was at the head of Foreign Affairs. As his confidential private
secretary, I, Geoffrey Deedes, had daily opportunities of observing how
conscientiously he served his Sovereign and his country, and how amazing
was his capacity for work. With him, duty was always of paramount
consideration; he worked night and day to sustain England's honour and
welfare, for times without number I had gone to his great gloomy house
in Berkeley Square in the middle of the night and roused him from his
bed to attend to urgent dispatches.
Although a perfect martinet towards many in the various departments of
the Foreign Office, he was to me always kind and generous. My father,
Sir Reginald Deedes, had, as many will doubtless remember, represented
Her Majesty at the Netherlands Court for fifteen years until his death.
He was thus an old friend of the Earl, and it was this friendship that
caused him to appoint me five years ago his private secretary, and, much
to the chagrin of young Lord Gaysford, the Under Secretary, repose such
implicit confidence in me that very frequently he entrusted to my care
the keys of the ponderous safe wherein were deposited the State secrets
of the nation.
"You'd better register this, and we'll lock it away from prying eyes at
once," Lord Warnham said a few moments later, handing me the envelope
after he had sealed it. Taking it, I went straight to my own room
across the corridor at the head of the fine central staircase. It was
part of my duty to receive the more important dispatches, number those
which were sealed, and prior to depositing them in the safe, register
the number in my book, stating the source whence they came, the date
received, and the name of the messenger who brought them.
Alone in my room, I closed the door, took the register from my own small
safe, numbered the precious envelope with the designation "B27,893," and
carefully made an entry in the book. Having finished, a clerk brought
me two letters from other Departments, both of which needed immediate
replies, therefore I sat down and scribbled them while he waited. Then,
having been absent from the Chief's room nearly a quarter of an hour, I
went back with the dispatch in my hand. In the room I found Lord
Gaysford, who, in reply to my question, stated that the Earl had been
compelled to leave in order to attend a meeting of the Cabinet, which he
believed would be a protracted one.
To me this was provoking, for the great statesman had taken with him the
key of the safe; thus was I left with this important document in my
possession. But I said nothing of the matter to the Under Secretary,
and returning to my room placed the dispatch in my inner pocket for
greater security, determined to keep it there until his Lordship
returned. I feared to lock it away in my own safe lest anyone else
might possess a key, and felt that in the circumstances my own pocket
was the safest place.
For nearly two hours I continued my work, it being Friday, an unusually
busy day, until, just as the clock at the Horse Guards chimed one
o'clock, a clerk entered with the card of Dudley Ogle, my college chum,
with whom I was now sharing, during the summer months, a cottage close
to the Thames at Shepperton. On the card was the pencilled query, "Can
you come and lunch with me?"
For a few moments I hesitated. I was busy, and I was compelled to
deliver the dispatch in my pocket to Lord Warnham before he left for
home. I knew, however, that the meeting of the Cabinet must be a long
one, and recognising the fact that I must lunch somewhere, I gave the
clerk a message that I would join Mr Ogle in the waiting-room in a few
moments. Then, locking my safe, I assured myself that the dispatch was
still in my pocket, brushed my hat, and joined my friend.
Dudley Ogle was the best of good fellows. After a rather wild college
career, it had been his fancy to roam for about two years on the
Continent, and on his return, his father, with whom he was not on the
best of terms, conveniently died, leaving him possessor of about twenty
thousand pounds. By this time he had, however, sown his wild oats, and
instead of spending his money as most young men of his age would have
done, he invested it, and now lived a careless, indolent existence,
travelling where he pleased, and getting as much enjoyment out of life
as was possible. He was about my own age--twenty-eight, well set-up,
smart-looking, with rather aquiline features, dark hair, and a pair of
merry eyes that were an index to a contented mind.
"Didn't expect me, I suppose, old fellow?" he exclaimed breezily, when
we met. "I found after you'd left this morning that I was compelled to
come up to town, and having nothing to do for an hour or so, it occurred
to me that we might lunch together."
"I thought you intended to pull up as far as `The Nook,'" I said,
laughing.
"So I did, but I received a wire calling me to town on some rather
urgent business. Where shall we lunch?"
In descending the stairs and turning into Downing Street we discussed
the merits of various restaurants, and finally decided upon a small,
old-fashioned, unpretentious, but well-known place a few doors from
Charing Cross, in the direction of Whitehall, known as "The Ship." Here
we ate our meal, spent an hour together, and then parted, he leaving to
return to Shepperton, I to finish my work | 2,185.951251 |
2023-11-16 18:53:29.9328980 | 3,058 | 12 |
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
A
TOUR UP THE STRAITS,
FROM
GIBRALTAR
TO
CONSTANTINOPLE.
WITH THE
LEADING EVENTS IN THE PRESENT WAR
BETWEEN THE
AUSTRIANS, RUSSIANS, AND THE TURKS,
TO THE
COMMENCEMENT OF THE YEAR 1789.
_By_ CAPTAIN SUTHERLAND,
OF THE 25^{TH} REGIMENT.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR;
AND SOLD BY J. JOHNSON, N^O 72, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.
M.DCC.XC.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO
THE RIGHT HONORABLE
LADY LOUISA LENNOX,
THIS VOLUME
IS
MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,
BY HER LADYSHIP's
MOST OBLIGED,
MOST FAITHFUL, AND
MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT,
D. SUTHERLAND.
INTRODUCTION.
The Commander in Chief of the garrison of Gibraltar having indulged the
Author of the following pages with leave of absence, he accepted an
invitation from an amiable Friend, to accompany him on a Voyage to the
Levant.
It was with the most heart-felt satisfaction, that he found himself
enabled to profit by so favorable an opportunity of visiting a country,
not only interesting from the precious remains of antiquity with which
it is still adorned, but from the critical state into which it was
thrown by the war already began, which threatened, sooner or later, to
involve in it many of the Powers of Europe, and to call forth the just
arm of Great Britain, to check the haughty usurpations of the ambitious
Court of Russia.
The Author's friends saw his happiness in embarking on such a Tour; and,
that they might, in some degree, partake of it, one of them insisted
that he should keep, and transmit him, a regular Journal.
This promise the Author readily gave, and faithfully observed.
The compliments paid to this little work, first gave him the idea of
appearing in print. Aware, however, that the ground he had travelled
over, had often been treated upon by much more able pens, he for some
time suppressed his hopes of becoming a candidate for fame in the
literary world: but, after the general encouragement he met, he would
have been guilty of injustice to himself, and of want of confidence in
his friends, had he any longer hesitated to appear before the Public.
CONTENTS.
LETTER I.
Page
_CEUTA--Goths and Saracens--Almeria--Rocks
of Abibo_
1
LETTER II.
_Carthagena--War of the Succession_
12
LETTER III.
_Reception at Cagliari--Lucilla_
24
LETTER IV.
_Churches--Ball at the Palace--Trade,
&c. of Sardinia_
37
LETTER V.
_Island of Capria--Tiberius--Malonia_
46
LETTER VI.
_Excursion to Baia_
49
LETTER VII.
_Mount Vesuvius--The Hermit--Bay of
Naples_
64
LETTER VIII.
_Capo de Monte--Portici--Herculaneum--Pompeia_
75
LETTER IX.
_Casertta--St. Januarius--Opera--Government_
86
LETTER X.
_Visit to the King of Naples at Castello
Mare--The Queen--Coast of Salerno--Pestum_
97
LETTER XI.
_Lipari Islands--Volcano of Strombolo_
106
LETTER XII.
_Messina--Earthquake--Scylla and Charybdis--Sir
George Byng--Commodore
Walton_
112
LETTER XIII.
_A fireball--Zante--Ithaca--Promontory
of Leucate--Turks and Greeks_
124
LETTER XIV.
_Pirates--Milo--Paros--Attica--Sunium_
139
LETTER XV.
_Smyrna--Great Advantages to be derived
from the Turkey Trade--Necessity of
a regular Lazaretto in England_
158
LETTER XVI.
_Cause of the War--The Russian Minister
is sent to the Seven Towers--Turkish
Manifesto--Attempt on Kimbourn--A
Russian Ship of sixty-four guns gives
herself up to the Turks--Ambitious
Views of the two Imperial Courts--The
Interest of England greatly endangered
by them--Necessity of our opposing
the Empress_
169
LETTER XVII.
_Journey to Ephesus--The poor Girl--Caravansera--Temple
of Diana--Character
of the Turkish Ministers--The
Vice-Admiral of the Porte beheaded_
189
LETTER XVIII.
_Scyros--Idra--History of Athens_
209
LETTER XIX.
_Present State of Athens--Battle of Marathon_
225
LETTER XX.
_Greek and Mahometan Religion_
241
LETTER XXI.
_Voyage from Athens to Leghorn_
258
LETTER XXII.
_Journey from Leghorn to Florence--Government
of Peter Leopold--Public
Ornaments--Palaces, Ricardi and Gerrini_
263
LETTER XXIII.
_Gallery of Florence_
275
LETTER XXIV.
_Island of Elba--Mount Vesuvius_
292
LETTER XXV.
_Voyage to Palermo--Grotesque Statues--Funeral
of Prince Patagonia_
297
LETTER XXVI.
_Attempt upon Belgrade--The Emperor declares
War--Operations in Croatia--Prince
Lichtenstein defeated by the
Turks--The Emperor takes the Field in
Person--The Prince of Moldavia deserts
from the Turks_
307
LETTER XXVII.
_The Prince of Saxe Cobourg invests Choczim--Siege
of Oczakow--Marshal
Laudohn--Political Observations--Meadia
taken by the Turks--The Grand
Vizir defeats the Emperor_
325
LETTER XXVIII.
_Passage through the Dardanelles--Constantinople_
346
LETTER XXIX.
_Conclusion of the Campaign 1788_
360
_Advertisement_
369
A
TOUR
FROM
GIBRALTAR
TO
CONSTANTINOPLE.
* * * * *
LETTER I.
TO CAPTAIN SMITH.
Carthagena, August 14th.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
In compliance with your request, I
I have kept a regular Journal of my
Voyage, which I now inclose you:
Tuesday, August 7th, Noon.
At eight o'clock, yesterday morning, we left Gibraltar, with a contrary
wind; and, on the first tack, we passed Ceuta, a place of no great
intrinsic value, but an indifferent port. It is situated on a peninsula
of Africa, which, with Gibraltar, Spartel and Trafalgar, forms the
Straits, and is so strongly fortified by Nature, that, although the
Moors have often besieged it, it has withstood all their efforts.
Count Julian was Governor of this place, at the time Roderigo ravished
his daughter, the beautiful _Cava_. The Count, inflamed with rage at the
dishonor perpetrated on his family, and distracted at the ruin of his
own child, forgot his duty to his country, which no private injuries can
excuse, and engaged to put the Moors in possession of Spain, if they
would revenge him on his abandoned Monarch.
It is not easy to determine who were the first inhabitants of Spain. We
know that it was subdued by the Carthaginians before the Christian æra,
and that they were conquered by the Romans; who, in their turn, yielded
to the Goths, from whom Roderigo was descended.
At this time, the Saracens (the name the followers of Mahomet assumed)
emigrating from Arabia, had overrun the neighbouring parts of Africa,
which they have kept possession of ever since. To these people, Count
Julian, with great truth, represented Roderic as a Prince universally
detested, and whose tyranny promised a general insurrection among the
Goths. The Saracen Chief at first doubted the Count's sincerity, but at
last sent over a large army, which gained a [Sidenote: A. D. 712]
complete victory over Roderigo, who was killed in the action; and the
whole country submitted to the Moors.
Divisions arising among the conquerors, the natives, in less than six
years, again appeared in arms, and the Saracens gradually declined for
near two centuries. Almanzor then arose, and, by his repeated victories,
revived the affairs of his countrymen: But, on the death of this great
General, the Christians again made head, and reduced the Moors to such
straits, that, although Mahomet Ben Joseph, Sovereign of Barbary, came
over to their assistance with all his forces, he was entirely defeated.
A. D. 1212.
The same dissensions, however, which had ruined the Saracens, now broke
out among the Christians, and enabled the former to shelter themselves
in Grenada, the only province now remaining to them in Spain. Here they
continued till the different monarchies which had been erected on their
ruin, were all, except Navarre, united under [Sidenote: A. D. 1492.]
Ferdinand and Isabella. Grenadawas then taken; but the Moors were
allowed to remain in the country, as subjects, till the reign of Philip
the Third, who, in apprehension of an insurrection, banished them
entirely [Sidenote: A. D. 1602.] from out of his kingdom. The
depopulation which this measure occasioned, is sensibly felt to the
present day. Count Julian was himself put to death by the Moors, on a
suspicion that he intended to desert their cause. His fate afforded us
an ample field for reflection.
We continued our course along the Barbary shore till midnight. We were
then obliged to tack, and are now opposite Malaga, twenty leagues from
Gibraltar. This, considering that the wind has been constantly easterly,
is no bad specimen of our sailing.
On the spot we are passing, Sir George Rooke, soon after he had taken
Gibraltar, engaged the Grand Fleet of France, consisting of fifty-two
sail of the line. The English and Dutch had as many ships; but the
French, being later from port, were much better manned, and in superior
[Sidenote: August 13, 1704.] condition. The battle lasted all the day.
Both sides suffered a very severe loss in men; but not one vessel was
taken or destroyed. Each claimed the victory; but the French Admirals
took care not to face us again during the whole of the war.
August 8th and 9th.
Calms and light easterly winds. The sea, for several miles round us, is
entirely covered with the spawn of fish. Philosophers have not been able
to determine how these animals are engendered: I will therefore pass
them over. The Grenada mountains rise to a stupendous height on our
left, and, even at this late season, their heads are covered with snow.
August 10th, Noon.
We have been, all this morning, in sight of Almeria. The more, for two
or three leagues on each side, is almost flat, with a very fine beach;
but the town itself displays all the variety of hill, dale and water. It
stands on a river, whose banks seem in high cultivation, and are
over-hung by prodigious mountains; whilst the low ground, particularly
to the east, rises in a gradual <DW72>, covered with groves and avenues
of olive, and cork-trees, interspersed with vines and green canes. This
beautiful spot forms a kind of amphitheatre, enclosed by the Grenadines,
whose rugged summits appear almost inaccessible.
On a steep ascent, at the West end of the town, stands a large Moorish
castle, in very good repair. At present it is only respectable for its
antiquity; but, in 1147, it made a most vigorous defence against Conrad
the Third, assisted by the French, Genoese, and Pisans; and, after a
glorious resistance, it was taken by assault, and all the Moors most
inhumanly put to death. Vast riches were found in the place,
particularly the famous Agate ship, which is still shewn by the Genoese,
as one of the most valuable curiosities in Genoa. The castle of Almeria
is an exact copy of that at Gibraltar, and, like it, is commanded by an
height immediately above it.
Dusk. Early in the afternoon, a breeze sprang up, and we are now off
Cape de Gatt, about six leagues from Almeria, and fifty-two from
Gibraltar. On the point | 2,185.952938 |
2023-11-16 18:53:30.0300900 | 2,748 | 22 |
Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
Every attempt has been made to replicate the original as printed. No
attempt has been made to correct or normalize the spelling of
non-English words. Some typographical errors have been corrected; a list
follows the text. The Illustrations have been moved from mid-paragraph
for ease of reading. (etext transcriber's note)
THE LIFE & LETTERS OF PETER ILICH TCHAIKOVSKY
THE LIFE & LETTERS OF
PETER ILICH
TCHAIKOVSKY
BY MODESTE TCHAIKOVSKY
EDITED FROM THE RUSSIAN
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
ROSA NEWMARCH: ILLUSTRATED
LONDON : JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK : JOHN LANE COMPANY : MCMVI
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LIMITED, PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH
TO
SERGEÏ IVANOVICH TANEIEV
AND TO ALL
WHO STILL CHERISH THE MEMORY OF
PETER ILICH TCHAIKOVSKY
I DEDICATE THIS WORK
INTRODUCTION
In offering to English and American readers this abridged edition of
_The Life and Letters of Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky_, my introduction must
of necessity take the form of some justification of my curtailments and
excisions.
The motives which led to this undertaking, and the reasons for my mode
of procedure, may be stated in a few words.
In 1900 I published a volume dealing with Tchaikovsky,[1] which was, I
believe, the first attempt to embody in book form all the
literature--scattered through the byways of Russian
journalism--concerning the composer of the Pathetic Symphony.
In the course of a year or two--the book having sold out in England and
America--a proposal was made to me to prepare a new edition. Meanwhile,
however, the authorised _Life and Letters_, compiled and edited by the
composer’s brother, Modeste Ilich Tchaikovsky, was being issued in
twenty-five parts by P. I. Jurgenson, of Moscow.[2] This original
Russian edition was followed almost immediately by a German translation,
published in Leipzig by the same firm.[3]
In November, 1901, the late P. I. Jurgenson approached me on the subject
of a translation, but his negotiations with an American firm eventually
fell through. He then requested me to find, if possible, an English
publisher willing to take up the book. Both in England and America the
public interest in Tchaikovsky seemed to be steadily increasing.
Frequent calls for copies of my small book--by this time out of
print--testified that this was actually the case.
An alternative course now lay before me: to revise my own book, with the
help of the material furnished by the authorised _Life and Letters_, or
to take in hand an English translation of the latter. The first would
have been the less arduous and exacting task; on the other hand, there
was no doubt in my mind as to the greater value and importance of
Modeste Tchaikovsky’s work.
The simplest--and in many ways most satisfactory--course seemed at first
to be the translation of the Russian edition in its entirety. Closer
examination, however, revealed the fact that out of the 3,000 letters
included in this book a large proportion were addressed to persons quite
unknown to the English and American publics; while at the same time it
contained a mass of minute and almost _local_ particulars which could
have very little significance for readers unversed in every detail of
Russian musical life.
Another practical question confronted me. What publisher would venture
upon launching this biographical three-decker, with its freight of 3,000
letters, amounting to nearly 2,000 pages of closely printed matter? Such
colossal biographies, however valuable as sources of information to the
specialist, are quite beyond all possibility of purchase or perusal by
the general public. That the author himself realised this, seems evident
from the fact that the German edition was lightened of about a third of
the original contents.
Following the lines of these authorised abridgments, while using my own
judgment as to the retention of some portions of the Russian text
omitted in the German edition, I have condensed the work still further.
It may be true, as Carlyle has said, that mankind takes “an unspeakable
delight in biography”; but it is equally certain that these “headlong
days” which have witnessed the extinction of the three-volume novel are
absolutely unfavourable to the success of the three-volume biography.
While admiring the patient and pious industry which has raised so
colossal a monument to Tchaikovsky’s memory, I cannot but feel that it
would be unreasonable to expect of any nation but his own a hero-worship
so devout that it could assimilate a _Tchaikovskiad_ of such prodigious
dimensions.
The present volume is the result of a careful selection of material. The
leading idea which I have kept in view throughout the fulfilment of my
task has been to preserve as far as possible the _autobiographical_
character of the book. Wherever feasible, I have preferred to let
Tchaikovsky himself tell the story of his life. For this reason the
proportion of letters to the additional biographical matter is even
greater in my version than in the German edition. When two or three
letters of only moderate interest have followed in immediate succession,
I have frequently condensed their contents into a single paragraph,
keeping as closely as possible to the phraseology of the composer
himself.
In one respect the present edition shows a clear improvement upon the
German. In the latter the dates have been given throughout in the Old
Style, thereby frequently causing confusion in the minds of Western
readers. In the English version--with a few unimportant exceptions--the
dates are given according to both calendars.
The most romantic episode of Tchaikovsky’s life--his friendship
extending over thirteen years with a woman to whom he never addressed a
direct personal greeting--is told in a series of intimate letters. In
these I have spared all but the most necessary abridgements.
The account of his tour in America, which takes the form of a diary kept
for the benefit of his near relatives, cannot fail to amuse and interest
all those who remember the favourable impression created by his
appearance at the inauguration of the Carnegie Hall, New York, in May,
1891.
The illustrations are the same as those published in the Russian and
German publications, with two notable additions: the photograph of
Tchaikovsky and Siloti, and the fine portrait by Kouznietsov.
My thanks are due to Mr. Grant Richards for permission to republish the
facsimile from the score of the Overture “_1812_”; also to Mr. W. W.
Manning and Mr. Adolf Brodsky for the kind loan of autographs.
In conclusion, let me say that in planning and carrying out this work it
is not so much the needs of the specialist I have kept most constantly
in view, as those of that large section of the musical public whose
interest in Tchaikovsky has been awakened by the sincerely emotional and
human elements of his music.
ROSA NEWMARCH
CONTENTS
PAGE
PART I. CHAPTERS I.-V. 1840-1861 1
PART II. CHAPTERS I.-VII. 1861-1866 30
PART III. CHAPTERS I.-XIII. 1866-1877 64
PART IV. CHAPTERS I.-VIII. 1877-1878 204
PART V. CHAPTERS I.-XX. 1878-1885 318
PART VI. CHAPTERS I.-XIII. 1885-1888 468
PART VII. CHAPTERS I.-XIX. 1888-1893 539
APPENDICES--A, B, C 726
ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF NAMES 773
ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF MUSICAL WORKS 779
ILLUSTRATIONS
1. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1893, FROM A PORTRAIT BY KOUZNIETSOV _Frontispiece_
TO FACE
PAGE
2. ILIA PETROVICH TCHAIKOVSKY, THE COMPOSER’S FATHER, IN 1860 4
3. THE HOUSE IN WHICH TCHAIKOVSKY WAS BORN, AT VOTINSK 8
4. THE TCHAIKOVSKY FAMILY IN 1848, FROM A DAGUERROTYPE 14
5. ALEXANDRA ANDREIEVNA TCHAIKOVSKY, THE COMPOSER’S MOTHER, IN 1848 20
6. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1859 (VIGNETTE) 26
7. THE COMPOSER’S FATHER, WITH HIS TWIN SONS MODESTE AND ANATOL 34
8. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1859 (CARTE DE VISITE) 42
9. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1863 56
10. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1867, IN WINTER DRESS 78
11. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1868 102
12. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1873 132
13. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1874 150
14. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1877 214
15. FRAGMENT FROM A LETTER, WITH SKETCH FOR A THEME
FOR “THE ENCHANTRESS” 482
16. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1888 540
17. TCHAIKOVSKY AND SILOTI 550
18. TCHAIKOVSKY’S HOUSE AT FROLOVSKOE 560
19. THE HOUSE IN WHICH TCHAIKOVSKY LIVED AT KLIN 680
20. TCHAIKOVSKY’S BEDROOM AT KLIN 694
21. SITTING-ROOM AT KLIN 700
22. TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1893 (TAKEN IN LONDON) 708
“To regret the past, to hope in the future, and never to be
satisfied with the present--this is my life.”--P. TCHAIKOVSKY
(_Extract from a letter_)
THE LIFE & LETTERS OF PETER ILICH TCHAIKOVSKY
PART I
I
One of the most characteristic traits of Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky was his
ironical attitude towards his family’s traditions of noble descent. He
never lost an opportunity of making fun of their armorial bearings,
which he regarded as “imaginary,” and clung obstinately to the plebeian
origin of the Tchaikovskys. This was not merely the outcome of his
democratic convictions, but had its origin, partly in the pride which
lay at the very root of his nature, and partly in his excessive
conscientiousness. He would not consider himself a scion of the
aristocracy, because his nearest ancestors could not boast of one
_boyar_, nor one owner of patrimonial estates. His father was the sole
serf-owner in the family, and _he_ possessed a cook with a numerous
progeny--ten souls in all.
But if he was unconcerned as to family descent, he was far from
indifferent as to nationality. The aristocratic pretensions of his
relatives aroused his mockery, but the mere suggestion of their Polish
origin stirred him to instant wrath. Love of Russia and all things
Russian was so deeply rooted in him that, while he cared nothing for
questions of pedigree, he rejoiced to discover among his earliest
ancestors on his father’s side one orthodox Russian from the district of
Kremenschug.
Tracing back Tchaikovsky’s pedigree, we do not find a single name
connected with music. There is not one instance of a professional
musician, and only three can be considered amateurs--his mother’s | 2,186.05013 |
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Produced by Charles Franks, Christopher Lund and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
JACK OF THE PONY EXPRESS
Or
The Young Rider of the Mountain Trails
By
FRANK V. WEBSTER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. JACK IN THE SADDLE
II. POSTMISTRESS JENNIE
III. A NARROW ESCAPE
IV. IMPORTANT LETTERS
V. JUST IN TIME
VI. THE SECRET MINE
VII. THE STRANGERS AGAIN
VIII. A NIGHT ATTACK
IX. IN BONDS
X. A QUEER DISCOVERY
XI. DUMMY LETTERS
XII. A RIDE FOR LIFE
XIII. THE INSPECTOR
XIV. THE CHASE
XV. A CAUTION
XVI. SUNGER GOES LAME
XVII. AN INVIT | 2,186.052176 |
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Produced by Stacy Brown, Thierry Alberto and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THOMAS CARLYLE'S
COLLECTED WORKS.
LIBRARY EDITION.
_IN THIRTY VOLUMES._
VOL. XIII.
PAST AND PRESENT.
LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL (LIMITED),
11 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
PAST AND PRESENT.
BY
THOMAS CARLYLE.
Ernst ist das Leben.
SCHILLER.
[1843.]
CONTENTS.
BOOK I.
PROEM.
CHAP. PAGE
I. Midas 3
II. The Sphinx 10
III. Manchester Insurrection 19
IV. Morrison's Pill 29
V. Aristocracy of Talent 34
VI. Hero-Worship 41
BOOK II.
THE ANCIENT MONK.
I. Jocelin of Brakelond 51
II. St. Edmundsbury 60
III. Landlord Edmund 65
IV. Abbot Hugo 73
V. Twelfth Century 79
VI. Monk Samson 84
VII. The Canvassing 92
VIII. The Election 96
IX. Abbot Samson 105
X. Government 112
XI. The Abbot's Ways 117
XII. The Abbot's Troubles 124
XIII. In Parliament 131
XIV. Henry of Essex 134
XV. Practical-Devotional 139
XVI. St. Edmund 148
XVII. The Beginnings 157
BOOK III.
THE MODERN WORKER.
I. Phenomena 171
II. Gospel of Mammonism 181
III. Gospel of Dilettantism 188
IV. Happy 192
V. The English 197
VI. Two Centuries 208
VII. Over-Production 213
VIII. Unworking Aristocracy 218
IX. Working Aristocracy 228
X. Plugson of Undershot 235
XI. Labour 244
XII. Reward 250
XIII. Democracy 260
XIV. Sir Jabesh Windbag 275
XV. Morrison again 280
BOOK IV.
HOROSCOPE.
I. Aristocracies 297
II. Bribery Committee 312
III. The One Institution 318
IV. Captains of Industry 333
V. Permanence 341
VI. The Landed 348
VII. The Gifted 355
VIII. The Didactic 361
Summary and Index 371, 383
BOOK I.
PROEM
CHAPTER I.
MIDAS.
The condition of England, on which many pamphlets are now in the
course of publication, and many thoughts unpublished are going on in
every reflective head, is justly regarded as one of the most ominous,
and withal one of the strangest, ever seen in this world. England is
full of wealth, of multifarious produce, supply for human want in
every kind; yet England is dying of inanition. With unabated bounty
the land of England blooms and grows; waving with yellow harvests;
thick-studded with workshops, industrial implements, with fifteen
millions of workers, understood to be the strongest, the cunningest
and the willingest our Earth ever had; these men are here; the work
they have done, the fruit they have realised is here, abundant,
exuberant on every hand of us: and behold, some baleful fiat as of
Enchantment has gone forth, saying, "Touch it not, ye workers, ye
master-workers, ye master-idlers; none of you can touch it, no man of
you shall be the better for it; this is enchanted fruit!" On the poor
workers such fiat falls first, in its rudest shape; but on the rich
master-workers too it falls; neither can the rich master-idlers, nor
any richest or highest man escape, but all are like to be brought low
with it, and made 'poor' enough, in the money sense or a far fataler
one.
Of these successful skilful workers some two millions it is now
counted, sit in Workhouses, Poor-law Prisons; or have 'out-door
relief' flung over the wall to them,--the workhouse Bastille being
filled to bursting, and the strong Poor-law broken asunder by a
stronger.[1] They sit there, these many months now; their hope of
deliverance as yet small. In workhouses, pleasantly so-named, because
work cannot be done in them. Twelve-hundred-thousand workers in
England alone; their cunning right-hand lamed, lying idle in their
sorrowful bosom; their hopes, outlooks, share of this fair world,
shut-in by narrow walls. They sit there, pent up, as in a kind of
horrid enchantment; glad to be imprisoned and enchanted, that they may
not perish starved. The picturesque Tourist, in a sunny autumn day,
through this bounteous realm of England, descries the Union Workhouse
on his path. 'Passing by the Workhouse of St. Ives in Huntingdonshire,
on a bright day last autumn,' says the picturesque Tourist, 'I saw
sitting on wooden benches, in front of their Bastille and within their
ring-wall and its railings, some half-hundred or more of these men.
Tall robust figures, young mostly or of middle age; of honest
countenance, many of them thoughtful and even intelligent-looking men.
They sat there, near by one another; but in a kind of torpor,
especially in a silence, which was very striking. In silence: for,
alas, what word was to be said? An Earth all lying round, crying, Come
and till me, come and reap me;--yet we here sit enchanted! In the eyes
and brows of these men hung the gloomiest expression, not of anger,
but of grief and shame and manifold inarticulate distress and
weariness; they returned my glance with a glance that seemed to say,
"Do not look at us. We sit enchanted here, we know not why. The Sun
shines and the Earth calls; and, by the governing Powers and
Impotences of this England, we are forbidden to obey. It is
impossible, they tell us!" There was something that reminded me of
Dante's Hell in the look of all this; and I rode swiftly away.'
So many hundred thousands sit in workhouses: and other hundred
thousands have not yet got even workhouses; and in thrifty Scotland
itself, in Glasgow or Edinburgh City, in their dark lanes, hidden from
all but the eye of God, and of rare Benevolence the minister of God,
there are scenes of woe and destitution and desolation, such as, one
may hope, the Sun never saw before in the most barbarous regions where
men dwelt. Competent witnesses, the brave and humane Dr. Alison, who
speaks what he knows, whose noble Healing Art in his charitable hands
becomes once more a truly sacred one, report these things for us:
these things are not of this year, or of last year, have no reference
to our present state of commercial stagnation, but only to the common
state. Not in sharp fever-fits, but in chronic gangrene of this kind
is Scotland suffering. A Poor-law, any and every Poor-law, it may be
observed, is but a temporary measure; an anodyne, not a remedy: Rich
and Poor, when once the naked facts of their condition have come into
collision, cannot long subsist together on a mere Poor-law. True
enough:--and yet, human beings cannot be left to die! Scotland too,
till something better come, must have a Poor-law, if Scotland is not
to be a byword among the nations. O, what a waste is there; of noble
and thrice-noble national virtues; peasant Stoicisms, Heroisms;
valiant manful habits, soul of a Nation's worth,--which all the metal
of Potosi cannot purchase back; to which the metal of Potosi, and all
you can buy with _it_, is dross and dust!
Why dwell on this aspect of the matter? It is too indisputable, not
doubtful now to any one. Descend where you will into the lower class,
in Town or Country, by what avenue you will, by Factory Inquiries,
Agricultural Inquiries, by Revenue Returns, by Mining-Labourer
Committees, by opening your own eyes and looking, the same sorrowful
result discloses itself: you have to admit that the working body of
this rich English Nation has sunk or is fast sinking into a state, to
which, all sides of it considered, there was literally never any
parallel. At Stockport Assizes,--and this too has no reference to the
present state of trade, being of date prior to that,--a Mother and a
Father are arraigned and found guilty of poisoning three of their
children, to defraud a 'burial-society' of some _3l. 8s._ due on the
death of each child: they are arraigned, found guilty; and the
official authorities, it is whispered, hint that perhaps the case is
not solitary, that perhaps you had better not probe farther into that
department of things. This is in the autumn of 1841; the crime itself
is of the previous year or season. "Brutal savages, degraded Irish,"
mutters the idle reader of Newspapers; hardly lingering on this
incident. Yet it is an incident worth lingering on; the depravity,
savagery and degraded Irishism being never so well admitted. In the
British land, a human Mother and Father, of white skin and professing
the Christian religion, had done this thing; they, with their Irishism
and necessity and savagery, had been driven to do it. Such instances
are like the highest mountain apex emerged into view; under which lies
a whole mountain region and land, not yet emerged. A human Mother and
Father had said to themselves, What shall we do to escape starvation?
We are deep sunk here, in our dark cellar; and help is far.--Yes, in
the Ugolino Hungertower stern things happen; best-loved little Gaddo
fallen dead on his Father's knees!--The Stockport Mother and Father
think and hint: Our poor little starveling Tom, who cries all day for
victuals, who will see only evil and not good in this world: if he
were out of misery at once; he well dead, and the rest of us perhaps
kept alive? It is thought, and hinted; at last it is done. And now Tom
being killed, and all spent and eaten, Is it poor little starveling
Jack that must go, or poor little starveling Will?--What a committee
of ways and means!
In starved sieged cities, in the uttermost doomed ruin of old
Jerusalem fallen under the wrath of God, it was prophesied and said,
'The hands of the pitiful women have sodden their own children.' The
stern Hebrew imagination could conceive no blacker gulf of
wretchedness; that was the ultimatum of degraded god-punished man. And
we here, in modern England, exuberant with supply of all kinds,
besieged by nothing if it be not by invisible Enchantments, are we
reaching that?--How come these things? Wherefore are they, wherefore
should they be?
* * * * *
Nor are they of the St. Ives workhouses, of the Glasgow lanes, and
Stockport cellars, the only unblessed among us. This successful
industry of England, with its plethoric wealth, has as yet made nobody
rich; it is an enchanted wealth, and belongs yet to nobody. We might
ask, Which of us has it enriched? We can spend thousands where we once
spent hundreds; but can purchase nothing good with them. In Poor and
Rich, instead of noble thrift and plenty, there is idle luxury
alternating with mean scarcity and inability. We have sumptuous
garnitures for our Life, but have forgotten to _live_ in the middle of
them. It is an enchanted wealth; no man of us can yet touch it. The
class of men who feel that they are truly better off by means of it,
let them give us their name!
Many men eat finer cookery, drink dearer liquors,--with what
advantage they can report, and their Doctors can: but in the heart of
them, if we go out of the dyspeptic stomach, what increase of
blessedness is there? Are they better, beautifuler, stronger, braver?
Are they even what they call 'happier'? Do they look with satisfaction
on more things and human faces in this God's-Earth; do more things and
human faces look with satisfaction on them? Not so. Human faces gloom
discordantly, disloyally on one another. Things, if it be not mere
cotton and iron things, are growing disobedient to man. The Master
Worker is enchanted, for the present, like his Workhouse Workman,
clamours, in vain hitherto, for a very simple sort of 'Liberty:' the
liberty 'to buy where he finds it cheapest, to sell where he finds it
dearest.' With guineas jingling in every pocket, he was no whit
richer; but now, the very guineas threatening to vanish, he feels that
he is poor indeed. Poor Master Worker! And the Master Unworker, is not
he in a still fataler situation? Pausing amid his game-preserves, with
awful eye,--as he well may! Coercing fifty-pound tenants; coercing,
bribing, cajoling; 'doing what he likes with his own.' His mouth full
of loud futilities, and arguments to prove the excellence of his
Corn-law; and in his heart the blackest misgiving, a desperate
half-consciousness that his excellent Corn-law is _in_defensible, that
his loud arguments for it are of a kind to strike men too literally
_dumb_.
To whom, then, is this wealth of England wealth? Who is it that it
blesses; makes happier, wiser, beautifuler, in any way better? Who has
got hold of it, to make it fetch and carry for him, like a true
servant, not like a false mock-servant; to do him any real service
whatsoever? As yet no one. We have more riches than any Nation ever
had before; we have less good of them than any Nation ever had
before. Our successful industry is hitherto unsuccessful; a strange
success, if we stop here! In the midst of plethoric plenty, the people
perish; with gold walls, and full barns, no man feels himself safe or
satisfied. Workers, Master Workers, Unworkers, all men, come to a
pause; stand fixed, and cannot farther. Fatal paralysis spreading
inwards, from the extremities, in St. Ives workhouses, in Stockport
cellars, through all limbs, as if towards the heart itself. Have we
actually got enchanted, then; accursed by some god?--
* * * * *
Midas longed for gold, and insulted the Olympians. He got gold, so
that whatsoever he touched became gold,--and he, with his long ears,
was little the better for it. Midas had misjudged the celestial
music-tones; Midas had insulted Apollo and the gods: the gods gave him
his wish, and a pair of long ears, which also were a good appendage to
it. What a truth in these old Fables!
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The Return of Paupers for England and Wales, at Ladyday 1842, is,
'In-door 221,687, Out-door 1,207,402, Total 1,429,089.' _Official
Report._
CHAPTER II.
THE SPHINX.
How true, for example, is that other old F | 2,186.053273 |
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Produced by Keith G. Richardson
The Lord of Glory
MEDITATIONS ON THE PERSON, THE WORK
AND GLORY OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST
BY
A. C. GAEBELEIN
PUBLICATION OFFICE OF "OUR HOPE,"
456 Fourth Avenue, New York, N. Y.
PICKERING & INGLIS, L. S. HAYNES,
GLASGOW, 502 Yonge Street,
SCOTLAND TORONTO, CANADA
Copyright 1910 by A. C. Gaebelein.
Printing by
Francis Emory Fitch
of New York
Contents
Preface
Dedication
The Lord of Glory
Jehovah. The "I am"
That Worthy Name
The Doctrine of Christ
The Pre-eminence of the Lord Jesus Christ
Ye are Christ's--Christ is God's
The Wonderful
Honor and Glory unto Him
Christ's Resurrection Song
The Glory Song
The Firstborn
The Waiting Christ
A Vision of the King
The Fellowship of His Son Jesus Christ our Lord
Out of His Fulness,
The Twenty-second Psalm
The Exalted One
A Glorious Vision
My Brethren
The Patience of Christ
He Shall Not Keep Silent
The Love of Christ
The Joy of the Lord
This same Jesus
The Wondrous Cross
His Legacy
What Have I to do with Idols
The Never Changing One
Be of Good Cheer
Make Haste
Preface.
For a number of years the first pages of each issue of "Our Hope"
have been devoted to brief meditations on the Person and Glory of
our adorable Lord Jesus Christ. Three reasons led the Editor to do
this: 1. He is worthy of all honor and glory, worthy to have the
first place in all things. 2. The great need of His people to have
His blessed Person, His past and present work, His power and glory,
His future manifestation constantly brought before their hearts. 3.
There is an ever increasing denial of the Person of our Lord. In the
most subtle way His Glory has been denied. It is therefore eminently
necessary for those who know Him to tell out His worth. Long and
learned discussions on the Person of the Lord have been written in
the past, but are not much read in these days. We felt that short
and simple meditations on Himself would be welcomed by all
believers.
All these brief articles were written with much prayer and often
under deep soul exercise. It has pleased the Holy Spirit to own them
in a most blessed way. Hundreds of letters were received telling of
the great blessing these meditations have been and what refreshing
they brought to the hearts of His people. Weary and tired ones were
cheered, wandering ones restored and erring ones set right. Many
wrote us or told us personally that the Lord Jesus Christ has become
a greater reality and power in their lives after following this
monthly testimony.
Suggestions were made to issue some of these notes in book form so
that these blessed truths may be preserved in a more permanent form.
We have done so and send this volume forth with the prayer that the
Holy Spirit, who is here to glorify Christ, may use it to the praise
and glory of His worthy Name. We are confident that such will be the
case.
A. C. G.
New York City, October 1, 1910.
Dedication.
"Unto Him who loveth us and washed us from our sins in His own
blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God His Father; to
Him be glory and dominion forever."--Rev. i: 5-6.
"Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and
wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing."--Rev. v:
12.
"Then they that feared the Lord spake one to another: and the Lord
hearkened and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before
Him for them that feared the Lord and that _thought upon His Name_."
--Mal. iii: 16.
"Let us go forth, therefore, unto Him without the camp bearing His
reproach. For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to
come. By Him, therefore, let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God
continually, that is the fruit of our lips, _confessing His Name_."
--Hebrews xiii: 13-15.
"Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so. Come Lord Jesus."--Rev.
xxii: 20.
The Lord of Glory.
1 Cor. ii:8.
OUR ever blessed Lord, who died for us, to whom we belong, with whom
we shall be forever, is the Lord of Glory. Thus He is called in 1
Cor. ii:8, "for had they known they would not have crucified the
_Lord of Glory_." Eternally He is this because He is "the express
image of God, the brightness of His Glory" (Heb. i:3). He possessed
Glory with the Father before the world was (John xvii:5). This Glory
was beheld by the prophets, for we read that Isaiah "saw His Glory
and spake of Him" (John xii:41). All the glorious manifestations of
Jehovah recorded in the Word of God are the manifestations of "the
Lord of Glory," who created all things that are in heaven, and that
are in earth, visible and invisible, who is before all things and by
whom all things consist. He appeared as the God of Glory to Abraham
(Acts vii:1); Isaac and Jacob were face to face with Him. Moses
beheld His Glory. He saw His Glory on the mountain. The Lord of
Glory descended in the cloud and stood with him there (Exod.
xxxiv:5). How often the Glory of the Lord appeared in the midst of
Israel. And what more could we say of Joshua, David, Daniel,
Ezekiel, who all beheld His Glory and stood in the presence of that
Lord of Glory.
In the fulness of time He appeared on earth "God manifested in the
flesh." Though He made of Himself no reputation and left His
unspeakable Glory behind, yet He was the Lord of Glory, and as such
He manifested His Glory. In incarnation in His holy, spotless life
He revealed His moral Glory; what perfection and loveliness we find
here! We have the testimony of His own "We beheld His Glory, the
Glory as of the only begotten of the Father" (John i:14). "They saw
His Glory" (Luke ix:32) when they were with Him in the holy
mountain. They heard, they saw with their eyes, they looked upon,
their hands handled the Word of life, the life that was manifested
(1 John i:1-2). In His mighty miracles the Lord of Glory manifested
His Glory, for it is written "this beginning of miracles did Jesus
in Cana of Galilee and manifested forth His Glory" (John i:11).
And this Lord of Glory died. The focus of His Glory is the cross. He
was obedient unto death, the death of the cross. He gave Himself for
us. Without following here all the precious truths connected with
that which is the foundation of our salvation and our hope, that the
Lord of Glory, Christ died for our sins, we remember that God
"raised Him up from the dead and _gave Him Glory_" (1 Pet. i:21). He
was "received up into Glory" (1 Tim. iii:16). "Ought not Christ to
have suffered these things and to enter into _His Glory_" (Luke
xxiv:26). The risen Lord of Glory said: "I ascend unto my Father and
your Father; to my God and your God." He is now in the presence of
God, the Man in Glory, seated in the highest place of the heaven of
heavens "at the right hand of the Majesty on high." He is there "far
above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and
every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that
which is to come" (Eph. i:21). He is highly exalted, the heir of all
things. In that Glory He was beheld by human, mortal eyes. Stephen
being full of the Holy Spirit "looked up steadfastly into heaven and
saw the _Glory of God_, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God"
(Acts vii:55). This was the dying testimony of the first Christian
martyr. Saul of Tarsus saw this Glory; he "could not see for the
Glory of that light" (Acts xxii:11). John beheld Him and fell at His
feet as dead. And we see Him with the eye of faith. "But we see
Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels for the suffering
of death _crowned with Glory and Honor_" (Heb. ii:9).
But this is not all. The unseen Glory of the Lord and the unseen
Lord of Glory will some day be visible, not to a few, but to the
whole universe. He will come in the Glory of His Father and the holy
angels with Him (Matt. xvi:27). The Lord of Glory will be "revealed
from heaven with His mighty angels" (2 Thess. i:7). He will come in
power and Glory, come in His own Glory (Luke ix:26) and sit on the
throne of His Glory (Matt. xxv:31). His Glory then will cover the
heavens (Hab. iii:3) and "the earth will be filled with the
knowledge of the Glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea"
(Hab. ii:14). The heavens cannot be silent forever and He who now is
the object of the faith of believers, and the One whom the world has
rejected, will come forth in all His Majesty and Glory and every eye
shall see Him. Then every knee must bow at the name of Jesus and
every tongue confess Him as Lord. In that manifestation of the Lord
of Glory and the Glory of the Lord we His redeemed will be
manifested in Glory. He will then be glorified in His saints and
admired in all them that believed (2 Thess. i:10). He will bring His
many sons to Glory (Heb. ii:10). We are "partakers of the Glory that
shall be revealed" (1 Pet. v:1). The God of all Grace hath indeed
called us unto His eternal Glory by Jesus Christ. "And when the
chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of Glory that
fadeth not away" (1 Pet. v:4). "But rejoice inasmuch as ye are
partakers of Christ's sufferings, that when His Glory shall be
revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy" (1 Pet. iv:13).
But ere this visible Glory is manifested over the earth and on the
earth and He comes forth as the King of kings and Lord of lords His
own will be gathered unto Him and be caught up in clouds to meet Him
in the air. Then we shall see Him as He is and be like Him. The
Glory which the Father has given Him as the head of the body will be
bestowed upon the whole body; for thus He prayed "the Glory, which
thou hast given me I have given to them" (John xvii:22). And in the
Father's house where He is, in the Holy of Holies we shall behold
His Glory. We shall be changed into the same image "that He might be
the first born among many brethren" (Rom. viii:29).
And now, dear reader, joint heir with the Lord of Glory, called by
God unto the fellowship of His Son, in meditating on these wonderful
facts given to us by revelation, does not your heart burn within
you? What a blessing, what a place, what a future is ours linked
with the Lord of Glory, one with Him! What a stupendous thought that
He came from Glory to die for us so that He might have us with Him
in Glory!
And these blessed truths concerning the Lord of Glory and the Glory
of the Lord we need to hold ever before our hearts in these dreary
days when darkest night is fast approaching. To walk worthy of the
Lord, to be faithful to the Lord, to render true service, to be more
like Him and show forth His excellencies, we but need one thing, to
know Him better and to behold the Glory of the Lord. It is written
"But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the Glory of the
Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as
by the Spirit of the Lord." Guided by the Spirit we can look on the
Lord of Glory and His Glory, mirrored in all parts of the Word of
God. And then as we look on this wonderful person and His relation
to us and ours to Him, as we behold His glory both moral and
literal, in humiliation and exaltation, past, present and future, we
are changed into the same image. Our path will be from Glory to
Glory! And some day there will come that supreme moment when we
shall be _suddenly_ changed "in a moment, the twinkling of an eye."
Oh child of God see your need! It is Christ, the Lord of Glory set
before your heart; all worldly mindedness, all insincerity, all
discouragement, all unbelief, all unfaithfulness must flee when we
follow on to know the Lord and daily behold "as in a glass the Glory
of the Lord."
"Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present
you faultless _before the presence of His Glory_ with exceeding joy,
to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and
power, both now and ever. Amen."
Jehovah. The "I Am."
WHEN Moses in the desert beheld the burning bush God answered his
question by the revelation of His name as the "I Am." "And God said
unto Moses, I am, that I am: and He said, Thus shalt thou say unto
the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you" (Exod. iii:14).
He who spake thus out of the bush to Moses was the same who in the
fullness of time appeared upon the earth in the form of man. Our
Lord Jesus Christ is no less person, than the I AM. If we turn to
the fourth Gospel in which the Holy Spirit pictures Him as the Son
of God, one with the Father, we find His glorious title there as the
I AM. In the eighth chapter of that blessed Gospel we read that He
said to the Jews, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, Before Abraham
was, I am" (v:58). And the Jews took stones to cast them upon Him.
In the fifth chapter we read that they wanted to kill Him, not only
because He had violated the Sabbath, but also said that God was His
Father, making Himself equal with God (v:18). They wanted to stone
Him because in saying that word "Before Abraham was, I am" He had
claimed that holy name for Himself, which was revealed to Moses. The
Jews then, as the orthodox Jews do still, reverenced that name to
such a degree that they did not even pronounce it, but substituted
in its place the word "Adonai." Little did they realize that the
same "I am" who spoke to Moses out of the bush, saying, "I am;" who
descended before Moses later in a cloud and proclaimed the name of
the Lord (Exod. xxxiv) was standing in their midst in the form of
man. And this is not the only time He used this word. We find it in
the xviii chapter of John. When the band and officers of the chief
priests and Pharisees came with lanterns, torches and weapons, Jesus
stepped majestically into their presence with the calm question:
"Whom seek ye?" When they had stated that they were seeking Jesus
the Nazarene He answered them with one word "I AM." What happened?
They went backward and fell to the ground. What a spectacle that
must have been. The dark night, a company of people, all on the same
satanic errand, with their lanterns, torches and different kinds of
weapons. And then the object of their hatred steps before them and
utters one word and they fall helpless to the ground. What warning
it should have been to them. Once more He asks the question; again
He answers with the "I am" and with the understanding that His own
should be free, He allows Himself to be bound.
He likewise called Himself "I am" in talking with the Samaritan
woman. In John iv:26 we read, "Jesus saith unto her, I that speak
unto thee am he." This does, however, not express the original. This
reads as follows: "I AM that speaks to thee." After this mighty word
had come from His lips the woman had nothing more to say, but left
her waterpot and went her way back to the city. The I AM had spoken
to her. In chapters vi:20 and viii:28 we find Him using the same "I
am" again. In the former passage "It is I" should read "I am."
Besides these passages in which He speaks of Himself as the
self-existing Jehovah, the great "I am," He saith seven times in this
Gospel what He is to His own. I am the Bread of life (chapter
vi:35.) I am the Light of the world (chapter ix:5). I am the Door
(chapter x:7). I am the Good Shepherd (chapter x:11). I am the
Resurrection and the Life (chapter xi:25). I am the Way, the Truth
and the Life (chapter xvi:6); and I am the true Vine (chapter xv:1).
But this does not exhaust at all what He is and will be now and
forever to those who belong to Him. In the Old Testament there are
seven great names of the "I AM" which are deep and significant. In
them we can trace His rich and wonderful Grace. _Jehovah.--Jireh_
--The Lord provides. The lamb provided (Genesis xxii). _Jehovah
Rophecah_--I am the Lord that healeth thee (Exodus xv). _Jehovah
--Nissi_--The Lord is my banner, He giveth the Victory (Exod. xvii).
_Jehovah shalom_, the Lord is Peace. He is our Peace (Judges vi).
_Jehovah Roi_--The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want (Psalm
xxiii). _Jehovah-Tsidkenu_, the Lord is our righteousness (Jeremiah
xxiii). _Jehovah shammah_, the Lord is there (Ezek. xlviii).
But this does not exhaust what He is. I AM--what? Anything and
everything what we need in time and eternity.
"When God would teach mankind His name
He called Himself the great, I AM,
And leaves a blank--believers may
Supply those things for which they pray."
Happy indeed are we, beloved reader, if we know Him, who died for us
as the I AM, if we learn more and more to trust Him as the all
sufficient One and know that the I AM will supply all our need. In
these days in which the person of Christ is so much belittled,
attacked; He as the Holy One, the great Jehovah rejected, not by the
outside world alone, but by those who call themselves after His own
blessed name, let us have for an answer to all these attacks of the
enemy a closer walk with Him, a more intimate fellowship with the I
AM; a better acquaintance with our Jehovah-Jesus, our gracious Lord.
Oh what a union is ours, One with Him the I AM, what a happy,
glorious lot. Hallelujah.
I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord,
which is, and which was, and which is to come (Rev. ii:8). I am the
bright and morning star (Rev. xxii: 16). What, oh what will He be
for His own in all eternity!
That Worthy Name.
James ii:7.
IN the second chapter of the Epistle of James the Holy Spirit speaks
of our ever blessed Lord as "that worthy Name." Precious Word!
precious to every heart that knows Him and delights to exalt His
glorious and worthy Name. His Name is "far above every Name that is
named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come."
(Ephes. i:21.) It is "as ointment poured forth" (Song of Sol. i:3);
yea, His Name alone is excellent (Psalm cxlviii:13). But according
to His worth that blessed Name is far from being fully known and
uttered by the Saints of God. "Thou art worthy" and "Worthy is the
Lamb" shall some day burst from the glorified lips of redeemed
sinners, brought home to be with Him. In that blessed day when at
last we see Him face to face, forever with the Lord, we shall begin
to learn the full worth and glory of that Name, the Name of the Lord
Jesus Christ. In a feeble way here below we get glimpses of His
precious, worthy Name, of His beauty and loveliness, and then only
through the power of the Holy Spirit. The aim of the Spirit of God
dwelling in our hearts will always be to tell us more of Himself.
Like Abraham's servant who had so much to say to the elect bride
about Isaac, so the Holy Spirit ever delights to show us more of
Christ, the Christ of God. Oh! how He is eager to tell us more of
His worth, of His glory, of His grace and of all He is and all He
has. How it grieves Him when our hearts do not respond to the great
message He has for us and when instead we turn to something else to
give us joy and comfort. Only Christ can give joy and comfort, peace
and rest to the hearts of those who are His. The days are evil and
the time is short. Is your heart increasingly attracted to that
worthy Name? Do you have a greater burning desire in your heart for
Himself? Does He, that worthy Name, become more and more day by day
the absorbing object of your heart and life? Do you often weep over
your coldheartedness, your lack of real devotion to Him and
communion with your Lord? Do you appreciate Him more than ever
before? Is the Apostle's longing cry "that I might know Him" coming
also from your heart? Dear reader, these are searching questions. A
better knowledge of our blessed Lord, a deeper acquaintance with
that worthy Name and greater devotion to Him, is the only true
spiritual progress which counts. If you live but little in the
reality of all this you lack that joy and rest which is true
Christian happiness and the Spirit is grieved. Oh let Him unfold to
your heart that worthy name and show you from His Word, His
wonderful person, then His power will attract your heart more and
more. This is what all God's people need. "That worthy Name," the
Lord in all His blessed fulness and glorious reality is what we
need.
And what the written Word has to tell us of "that worthy Name"! Oh,
the titles, the attributes, the names, the glories, the beauties of
Himself. And we have discovered but so few of these blessed things.
Perhaps a few hundred of the descriptions of that worthy Name are
known to God's Saints; but there are hundreds, still hidden, we have
never touched. Yes, God's Spirit is ever willing to make them known
to our hearts.
Just for a few moments think of some of the familiar titles and
names of that Name which is above every other name. How these titles
of our blessed Lord, what He is and what we have in Him should fill
our hearts with praise and our lips with outbursts of praise, lift
us above present day conditions and give us courage and boldness.
"That worthy Name"; who is He?
The Son of God, the Only Begotten of the Father, the living God, the
eternal Life; Emmanuel, the God of Glory, the Holy One; Jehovah, the
everlasting God, the Lord strong and mighty, the Lord of Peace, the
Lord our righteousness, the Upholder of all things, the Creator, the
Alpha and Omega, the express image of God. He is the Word, the Word
of God, the Word of Life, the Wisdom of God, the Angel of the Lord,
the Mediator of the better covenant. The good Shepherd, the great
Shepherd, the chief Shepherd, the Door, the Way, the Root and
offspring of David, the Branch of Righteousness, the Rose of Sharon,
the Lily of the valley, the true Vine, the Corn of Wheat, the Bread
of God, the true Bread from heaven. He is also the Light of the
world, the Day dawn, the Star out of Jacob, Sun and Shield, the
Bright and Morningstar, the Sun of Righteousness. Thus we read of
that worthy Name, that He is, the Great High-priest, the Daysman,
the Advocate, Intercessor, Surety, Mercy Seat, the Forerunner, the
Rock of Salvation, the Refuge, the Tower, a strong Tower, the Rock
of Ages, the Hope of Glory, the Hope of His people, a living Stone.
And what else? the Gift of God, the Beloved, the Fountain of Life,
Shiloh, He is our Peace, our Redeemer, He is precious, the Amen, the
Just Lord, the Bridegroom, the Firstborn from the Dead, Head over
all, Head of all principality and power, Heir of all things. He is
Captain of the Lord's Host, Captain of their salvation, Chiefest
among Ten Thousand, the Leader, the Counsellor, the Lion of the
tribe of Judah, the Governor, Prince of Peace, the Prince of Life,
the Prince of the Kings of the earth, the Judge, the King, the King
of Israel, King of Saints, King of Glory, King over all the earth,
King in His Beauty, King of Kings and Lord of lords.
All these names and attributes of that worthy Name are familiar.
What dignity, what power, what grace and blessing for us for whom He
died and shed His precious blood they express. Who can fathom these
names? Who can tell out His worth? And hundreds more could be added,
and many, many more, which are still undiscovered in the Word of
God. What a Lord He is! We worship and adore Thee, Thou worthy One.
Draw us O Lord and we will run after Thee. What a joy and delight it
ought to be to follow Him, to exalt Him, to be devoted to such a
One! Oh! our failures! And still He carries us in kindness and
patience. And He also has a Name, which expresses the fulness of His
work and glory. No one knows what _that_ is. "He had a name written,
that no man knew, but He Himself" (Rev. xix:12). That unknown Name
may never be made known.
But oh! the blessedness which is before us His redeemed people. Of
us it is written "They shall see _His face_": That blessed, blessed
face of that worthy Name, we shall behold at last. We shall see His
face! Oh the rapture which fills the heart in the anticipation of
that soon coming event. "And His Name shall be on their foreheads"
(Rev. xxii:4). We shall be like Him, we shall be a perfect
reflection of Himself.
The Doctrine of Christ.
2 John 9-11.
" | 2,186.162011 |
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Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
MRS WARREN'S PROFESSION
by George Bernard Shaw
1894
With The Author's Apology (1902)
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
Mrs Warren's Profession has been performed at last, after a delay of
only eight years; and I have once more shared with Ibsen the triumphant | 2,186.165984 |
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Produced by John Bechard
ROBERT FALCONER
By George Macdonald
Note from electronic text creator: I have compiled a glossary with
definitions of most of the Scottish words found in this work and placed
it at the end of this electronic text. This glossary does not belong to
the original work, but is designed to help with the conversations and
references in Broad Scots found in this work. A further explanation of
this list can be found towards the end of this document, preceding the
glossary.
Any notes that I have made in the text (e.g. relating to Greek words in
the text) have been enclosed in {} brackets.
TO
THE MEMORY
OF THE MAN WHO
STANDS HIGHEST IN THE ORATORY
OF MY MEMORY,
ALEXANDER JOHN SCOTT,
I, DARING, PRESUME TO DEDICATE THIS BOOK.
PART I.--HIS BOYHOOD.
CHAPTER I. A RECOLLECTION.
Robert Falconer, school-boy, aged fourteen, thought he had never seen
his father; that is, thought he had no recollection of having ever seen
him. But the moment when my story begins, he had begun to doubt whether
his belief in the matter was correct. And, as he went on thinking, he
became more and more assured that he had seen his father somewhere about
six years before, as near as a thoughtful boy of his age could judge
of the lapse of a period that would form half of that portion of his
existence which was bound into one by the reticulations of memory.
For there dawned upon his mind the vision of one Sunday afternoon. Betty
had gone to church, and he was alone with his grandmother, reading
The Pilgrim's Progress to her, when, just as Christian knocked at the
wicket-gate, a tap came to the street door, and he went to open it.
There he saw a tall, somewhat haggard-looking man, in a shabby
black coat (the vision gradually dawned upon him till it reached the
minuteness of all these particulars), his hat pulled down on to his
projecting eyebrows, and his shoes very dusty, as with a long journey
on foot--it was a hot Sunday, he remembered that--who looked at him very
strangely, and without a word pushed him aside, and went straight into
his grandmother's parlour, shutting the door behind him. He followed,
not doubting that the man must have a right to go there, but questioning
very much his right to shut him out. When he reached the door, however,
he found it bolted; and outside he had to stay all alone, in the
desolate remainder of the house, till Betty came home from church.
He could even recall, as he thought about it, how drearily the afternoon
had passed. First he had opened the street door, and stood in it. There
was nothing alive to be seen, except a sparrow picking up crumbs, and he
would not stop till he was tired of him. The Royal Oak, down the street
to the right, had not even a horseless gig or cart standing before it;
and King Charles, grinning awfully in its branches on the signboard, was
invisible from the distance at which he stood. In at the other end of
the empty street, looked the distant uplands, whose waving corn and
grass were likewise invisible, and beyond them rose one blue truncated
peak in the distance, all of them wearily at rest this weary Sabbath
day. However, there was one thing than which this was better, and that
was being at church, which, to this boy at least, was the very fifth
essence of dreariness.
He closed the door and went into the kitchen. That was nearly as bad.
The kettle was on the fire, to be sure, in anticipation of tea; but the
coals under it were black on the top, and it made only faint efforts,
after immeasurable intervals of silence, to break into a song, giving
a hum like that of a bee a mile off, and then relapsing into hopeless
inactivity. Having just had his dinner, he was not hungry enough to find
any resource in the drawer where the oatcakes lay, and, unfortunately,
the old wooden clock in the corner was going, else there would have been
some amusement in trying to torment it into demonstrations of life, as
he had often done in less desperate circumstances than the present. At
last he went up-stairs to the very room in which he now was, and sat
down upon the floor, just as he was sitting now. He had not even brought
his Pilgrim's Progress with him from his grandmother's room. But,
searching about in all holes and corners, he at length found Klopstock's
Messiah translated into English, and took refuge there till Betty came
home. Nor did he go down till she called him to tea, when, expecting to
join his grandmother and the stranger, he found, on the contrary, that
he was to have his tea with Betty in the kitchen, after which he again
took refuge with Klopstock in the garret, and remained there till it
grew dark, when Betty came in search of him, and put him to bed in the
gable-room, and not in his usual chamber. In the morning, every trace of
the visitor had vanished, even to the thorn stick which he had set down
behind the door as he entered.
All this Robert Falconer saw slowly revive on the palimpsest of his
memory, as he washed it with the vivifying waters of recollection.
CHAPTER II. A VISITOR.
It was a very bare little room in which the boy sat, but it was
his favourite retreat. Behind the door, in a recess, stood an empty
bedstead, without even a mattress upon it. This was the only piece of
furniture in the room, unless some shelves crowded with papers tied up
in bundles, and a cupboard in the wall, likewise filled with papers,
could be called furniture. There was no carpet on the floor, no windows
in the walls. The only light came from the door, and from a small
skylight in the sloping roof, which showed that it was a garret-room.
Nor did much light come from the open door, for there was no window on
the walled stair to which it opened; only opposite the door a few steps
led up into another garret, larger, but with a lower roof, unceiled,
and perforated with two or three holes, the panes of glass filling which
were no larger than the small blue slates which covered the roof: from
these panes a little dim brown light tumbled into the room where the boy
sat on the floor, with his head almost between his knees, thinking.
But there was less light than usual in the room now, though it was
only half-past two o'clock, and the sun would not set for more than
half-an-hour yet; for if Robert had lifted his head and looked up, it
would have been at, not through, the skylight. No sky was to be seen. A
thick covering of snow lay over the glass. A partial thaw, followed
by frost, had fixed it there--a mass of imperfect cells and confused
crystals. It was a cold place to sit in, but the boy had some faculty
for enduring cold when it was the price to be paid for solitude. And
besides, when he fell into one of his thinking moods, he forgot, for
a season, cold and everything else but what he was thinking about--a
faculty for which he was to be envied.
If he had gone down the stair, which described half the turn of a screw
in its descent, and had crossed the landing to which it brought him,
he could have entered another bedroom, called the gable or rather ga'le
room, equally at his service for retirement; but, though carpeted
and comfortably furnished, and having two windows at right angles,
commanding two streets, for it was a corner house, the boy preferred
the garret-room--he could not tell why. Possibly, windows to the streets
were not congenial to the meditations in which, even now, as I have
said, the boy indulged.
These meditations, however, though sometimes as abstruse, if not so
continuous, as those of a metaphysician--for boys are not unfrequently
more given to metaphysics than older people are able or, perhaps,
willing to believe--were not by any means confined to such subjects:
castle-building had its full share in the occupation of those lonely
hours; and for this exercise of the constructive faculty, what he
knew, or rather what he did not know, of his own history gave him
scope enough, nor was his brain slow in supplying him with material
corresponding in quantity to the space afforded. His mother had been
dead for so many years that he had only the vaguest recollections of her
tenderness, and none of her person. All he was told of his father was
that he had gone abroad. His grandmother would never talk about him,
although he was her own son. When the boy ventured to ask a question
about where he was, or when he would return, she always replied--'Bairns
suld haud their tongues.' Nor would she vouchsafe another answer to any
question that seemed to her from the farthest distance to bear down upon
that subject. 'Bairns maun learn to haud their tongues,' was the sole
variation of which the response admitted. And the boy did learn to hold
his tongue. Perhaps he would have thought less about his father if he
had had brothers or sisters, or even if the nature of his grandmother
had been such as to admit of their relationship being drawn closer--into
personal confidence, or some measure of familiarity. How they stood with
regard to each other will soon appear.
Whether the visions vanished from his brain because of the thickening of
his blood with cold, or he merely acted from one of those undefined and
inexplicable impulses which occasion not a few of our actions, I cannot
tell, but all at once Robert started to his feet and hurried from the
room. At the foot of | 2,186.167307 |
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Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Barbara Tozier, Dave Morgan
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned
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Transcribed from the 1906 Caradoc Press edition by David Price, email
[email protected].
SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
I I thought once how Theocritus had sung
II But only three in all God's universe
III Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
IV Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor
V I lift my heavy heart up solemnly
VI Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
VII The face of all the world is changed, I think
VIII What can I give thee back, O liberal
IX Can it be right to give what I can give?
X Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
XI And therefore if to love can be desert
XII Indeed this very love which is my boast
XIII And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
XIV If thou must love me, let it be for nought
XV Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
XVI And yet, because thou overcomest so
XVII My poet thou canst touch on all the notes
XVIII I never gave a lock of hair away
XIX The soul's Rialto hath its merchandize
XX Beloved, my beloved, when I think
XXI Say over again, and yet once over again
XXII When our two souls stand up erect and strong
XXIII Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead
XXIV Let the world's sharpness like a clasping knife
XXV A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne
XXVI I lived with visions for my company
XXVII My own Beloved, who hast lifted me
XXVIII My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
XXIX I think of thee!--my thoughts do twine and bud
XXX I see thine image through my tears to-night
XXXI Thou comest! all is said without a word
XXXII The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
XXXIII Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear
XXXIV With the same heart, I said, I'll answer thee
XXXV If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
XXXVI When we met first and loved, I did not build
XXXVII Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make
XXXVIII First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
XXXIX Because thou hast the power and own'st the grace
XL Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!
XLI I thank all who have loved me in their hearts
XLII My future will not copy fair my past
XLIII How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
XLIV Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers
I
I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,--
"Guess now who holds thee!"--"Death," I said, But, there,
The silver answer rang, "Not Death, but Love."
II
But only three in all God's universe
Have heard this word thou hast said,--Himself, beside
Thee speaking, and me listening! and replied
One of us... that was God,... and laid the curse
So darkly on my eyelids, as to amerce
My sight from seeing thee,--that if I had died,
The death-weights, placed there, would have signified
Less absolute exclusion. "Nay" is worse
From God than from all others, O my friend!
Men could not part us with their worldly jars,
Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend;
Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars:
And, heaven being rolled between us at the end,
We should but vow the faster for the stars.
III
Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!
Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Our ministering two angels look surprise
On one another, as they strike athwart
Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art
A guest for queens to social pageantries,
With gages from a hundred brighter eyes
Than tears even can make mine, to play | 2,186.167874 |
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Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
THE HUMAN BOY
AND THE WAR
BY
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1916
_All rights reserved_
Copyright 1916
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Set up and electrotyped. Published June, 1916
Reprinted October, 1916.
CONTENTS
The Battle of the Sand-Pit
The Mystery of Fortescue
The Countryman of Kant
Travers Minor, Scout
The Hutchings Testimonial
The Fight
Percy Minimus and His Tommy
The Prize Poem
The Revenge
The "Turbot's" Aunt
Cornwallis and Me and Fate
For the Red Cross
The Last of Mitchell
THE HUMAN BOY
AND THE WAR
THE BATTLE OF THE SAND-PIT
After the war had fairly got going, naturally we thought a good deal
about it, and it was explained to us by Fortescue that, behind the
theory of Germany licking us, or us licking Germany, as the case might
be, there were two great psychical ideas. As I was going to be a soldier
myself, the actual fighting interested me most, but the psychical ideas
were also interesting, because Fortescue said that often the cause won
the battle. Therefore it was better to have a good psychical idea
behind you, like us, than a rotten one, like Germany. I always thought
the best men and the best ships and the best brains and the most money
were simply bound to come out top in the long run; but Fortescue said
that a bad psychical idea behind these things often wrecks the whole
show. And so I asked him if we had got a good psychical idea behind us,
and he said we had a champion one, whereas the Germans were trusting to
a perfectly deadly psychical idea, which was bound to have wrecked them
in any case--even if they'd had twenty million men instead of ten.
So that was all right, though, no doubt, the Germans think their idea of
being top dog of the whole world is really finer than ours, which is
"Live and let live." And, as I pointed out to Fortescue, no doubt if we
had such a fearfully fine opinion of ourselves as the Germans have, then
we also should want to be top dog of the world.
And Fortescue said:--
"That's just it, Travers major. Thanks to our sane policy of respecting
the rights of all men, and never setting ourselves up as the only nation
that counts, we do count--first and foremost; but if we'd gone out into
the whole earth and bawled that we were going to make it Anglo-Saxon,
then we should have been laughed at, as the Germans are now; and we
should dismally have failed as colonists, just as they have."
So, of course, I saw all he meant by his psychical idea, and no doubt it
was a jolly fine thought; and most, though not all, of the Sixth saw it
also. But the Fifth saw it less, and the Fourth didn't see it at all.
The Fourth were, in fact, rather an earthy lot about this time, and they
seemed to have a foggy sort of notion that might is right; or, if it
isn't, it generally comes out right, which to the minds of the Fourth
amounted to the same thing.
The war naturally had a large effect upon us, and according as we looked
at the war, so you could judge of our opinions in general. I and my
brother, Travers minor, and Briggs and Saunders--though Briggs and
Travers minor were themselves in the Lower Fourth--were interested in
the strategy and higher command. We foretold what was going to happen
next, and were sometimes quite right; whereas chaps like Abbott and
Blades and Mitchell and Pegram and Rice were only interested in the
brutal part, and the bloodshed and the grim particulars about the
enemy's trenches after a sortie, and so on.
In time, curiously enough, there got to be two war parties in the
school. Of course they both wanted England to win, but we took a higher
line about it, and looked on to the end, and argued about the division
of the spoil, and the general improvement of Europe, and the new map,
and the advancement of better ideas, and so on; while Rice and Pegram
and such-like took the "horrible slaughter" line, and rejoiced to hear
of parties surrounded, and Uhlans who had been eating hay for a week
before they were captured, and the decks of battleships just before they
sank, and such-like necessary but very unfortunate things.
I said to Mitchell--
"It may interest you to know that real soldiers never talk about the
hideous side of war; and it would be a good deal more classy if you
chaps tried to understand the meaning of it all, instead of wallowing in
the dreadful details."
And Mitchell answered--
"The details bring it home to us and make us see red."
And I replied to Mitchell--
"What the dickens d'you want to see red for?"
And he said--
"Everybody ought to at a time like this."
Of course, with such ignorance you can't argue, any more than you could
with Rice, when he swore that he'd give up his home and family gladly in
exchange for the heavenly joy of putting a bayonet through a German
officer. It wasn't the spirit of war, and I told him so, and he called
me "von Travers," and said that as I was going to be a soldier, he
hoped, for the sake of the United Kingdom in general, there would be no
war while I was in command of anybody.
Gradually there got to be a bit of feeling in the air, and we gave out
that we stood for tactics and strategy and brain-power, and Rice and his
lot gave out that they stood for hacking their way through. And as for
strategy, they had the cheek to say that, if it came to actual battle,
the Fourth would back its strategy against the Sixth every time. It was
a sort of challenge, in fact, and rested chiefly on their complete
ignorance of what strategy really meant.
When I asked Mitchell who were the strategists of the Fourth, he gave it
away by saying--
"Me and Pegram."
Well, he and Pegram were merely cunning--nothing more. Mitchell was a
good mathematician, and in money matters he excelled on a low plane;
while Pegram was admitted to be a master in the art of cribbing, but no
other. His bent of mind had been attracted to the subject of cribbing
from the first, and while I hated him, and knew that he could never come
to much good, I was bound to admit the stories told about his cribbing
exploits showed great ingenuity combined with nerve. By a bitter irony,
theology was his best subject, but only thanks to the possession of a
Bible one inch square. He had found it when doing Christmas shopping
with his aunt, who was his only relation, owing to his being an orphan,
and when he asked her to buy it for him as one of his Christmas
presents, she did so with pleasure and surprise, little dreaming of what
was passing in his mind. I never saw the book, nor wished to see it,
but Briggs, who did, told me it contained everything, only in such
frightfully small print that you wanted a magnifying glass to read it.
Needless to say, Pegram had the magnifying glass. And, thus armed, he
naturally did Scripture papers second to none. He also manipulated a
catapult for the benefit of his friends in the Lower Fourth, of whom he
had a great many, and with this instrument, such was his delicacy of
aim, he could send answers to questions in an examination through the
air to other chaps, in the shape of paper pillets. He could also hurl
insults in this way, or, in fact, anything. Once he actually fired his
Bible across three rows of forms to Abbott. It flew through the air and
fell at Abbott's feet, who instantly put one on it. But Brown, who was
the master in command on the occasion, looked up at the critical moment
and saw a strange object passing through the air. Only he failed to
mark it down.
"What was that?" said Brown to Rice, who sat three chaps off Abbott.
"A moth, I think, sir," said Rice.
"Extraordinary time for a moth to be flying," said Brown.
"Very, sir," said Rice.
"Don't let it occur again, anyway," said Brown, who never investigated
anything, but always ordered that it shouldn't occur again.
"No, sir," said Rice.
Then Abbott bent down to scratch his ankle, and all was well.
And this Pegram was supposed to have strategy as good as ours!
I never thought a real chance of a conflict would come, but it actually
did in a most unexpected manner just before the holidays. The weather
turned cold for a week, and then, after about three frosts, we had a big
snow, and in about a day and a night there was nearly a foot of it.
And, walking through the West Wood with Blades, I pointed out that the
sand-pit, under the edge of the fir trees, would be a very fine spot for
a battle on a small scale.
I said--
"If one army was above the sand-pit, and another army was down here,
trying to storm the position, there would be an opportunity for a
remarkably good fight and plenty of strategy; and if I led the Fifth and
Sixth against the sand-pit, or if I defended the sand-pit against
attacks by the Upper and Lower Fourth, the result would be very
interesting."
And Blades agreed with me. He said he believed that it would give the
Upper and Lower Fourth frightful pleasure to have a battle, and he was
certain they would be exceedingly pleased at the idea. In fact, he went
off at once to find Pegram and, if possible, Rice and Mitchell. The
school was taking a walk that afternoon, as the football ground was
eight inches under snow; and some were digging in the snow for eating
chestnuts, of which a good many were to be found in West Wood, and
others were scattered about. So Blades went to find Mitchell, Rice, and
Pegram, and I considered the situation. The edge of the sand-pit was
about eight feet high, and a frontal attack would have been very
difficult, if not impossible; but there was an approach on the left--a
gradual <DW72>, fairly easy--and another on the right, rather difficult,
as it consisted of loose stones and tree roots. On the whole, I thought
I would rather defend than attack; but as, if anything came of it, I
should be the challenger, I felt it would be more sporting to let the
foe choose.
Then Rice and Mitchell came back with Blades, and they said that nothing
would give them greater pleasure than a fight. They had heard my idea,
and thought exceedingly well of it. They examined the spot and
pretended to consider strategy, but, of course, they knew nothing about
the possibilities of defence and attack. What they really wanted to
know was how many troops they would have, and how many we should. We
counted up and found that in the Fifth and Sixth, leaving out about four
who were useless, and Perkins, who would have been valuable, but was
crocked at footer for the moment, we should number thirty-one, while the
Upper and Lower Fourth would have thirty-eight. I agreed to that, and
Rice made the rather good suggestion that we should each have ten kids
behind the fighting line to make ammunition. And I said I hoped there
would be no stones in the snowballs, and Mitchell said the Fourth didn't
consist of Germans, and I might be sure they would fight as fair as we
did, if not fairer.
So it was settled for the next Saturday, and Brown and Fortescue
consented to umpire the battle, and Fortescue showed great interest in
it.
There were a good many preliminaries to decide, and I asked Mitchell
what chap was to be general-in-chief for the Fourth, and, much to my
surprise, he said that Pegram was. And, still more to my surprise, he
said that Pegram wished to attack and not defend. This alone showed how
little they knew about strategy; but I only said "All right," and
Mitchell actually said that Pegram backed the Fourth to take the
sand-pit inside an hour! And I said that pride generally went before a
fall. Then I saw Pegram--which was at a meeting of the
commanders-in-chief--and we arranged all the details. He asked about the
fallen, and I said that nobody would fall; but he said he thought some
very likely would; and he also said that it would be more like the real
thing and more a reward for strategy if, when anybody was fairly bowled
over in the battle and prevented from continuing without a rest, that
that soldier was considered as a casualty and taken to the rear. This
was pretty good for Pegram; but as our superior position on the top of
the sand-pit was bound to make our fire more severe than his, and put
more of his men out of action, I pointed that out. But he said that if
I thought our fire would be more severe than his, I was much mistaken.
He said the volume of his fire would be greater, which was true. So I
let him have his way, and we each selected ten kids for the ammunition.
Travers minor didn't much like fighting against me, but, of course, he
had to, though it was rather typical of Mitchell and Pegram that they
were very suspicious of him before the battle, and wouldn't tell him any
of the strategy, or give him a command in their army, for fear of his
being a traitor. And they felt the same to Briggs, though, of course,
Briggs and Travers minor were really just as keen about victory for the
Fourth as anybody else in it. And the only reason why my brother didn't
like fighting against me was that, with my strategy, he felt pretty sure
I must win.
The generals--Pegram and I--visited the battlefield twice more, and
arranged where the wounded were to lie and where the umpires were to
stand, in comparative safety behind a tree on the right wing; but, of
course, we didn't discuss tactics or say a word about our battle plans.
The fight was to last one hour, and if at the end of that time we still
held the sand-pit, we were the victors. And for half an hour before the
battle began, we were to make ammunition and pile snow and do what we
liked to increase the chances of victory.
I, of course, led the Fifth and Sixth, and under me I had Saunders, as
general of the Sixth, and Norris, as general of the Fifth. As for the
enemy, Pegram was generalissimo, to use his own word, and Rice and
Abbott and Mitchell and Blades were his captains. It got jolly
interesting just before the battle, and everybody was frightfully keen,
and the kids who were not doing orderly and red-cross work, were allowed
to stand on a slight hill fifty yards from the sand-pit and watch the
struggle.
And on the morning of the great day, happening to meet Rice and
Mitchell, I asked them what was the psychical idea behind the attack of
the Fourth; and Rice said his psychical idea was to give the Sixth about
the worst time it had ever had; and Mitchell said his psychical idea was
to make the Sixth wish it had never been born. They meant it, too, for
there was a lot of bitter feeling against us, and I realised that we
were in for a real battle, though there could only be one end, of
course. They had thirty-eight fighters to our thirty-one, and they had
rather the best of the weight and size; but in the Sixth we had Forbes
and Forrester, both of the first eleven and hard chuckers; and we had
three other hard chuckers and first eleven men in the Fifth, besides
Williams, who was the champion long-distance cricket ball thrower in the
school.
We had all practised a good deal, and also instructed the kids in the
art of making snowballs hard and solid. The general feeling with us was
that we had the brains and the strategy, while the Fourth had rather the
heavier metal, but would not apply it so well as us. When a man fell,
the ambulance, in the shape of two red-cross kids, was to conduct him to
a place safe from fire in the rear; and when he was being taken from the
firing-line, he was not to be fired at, but the battle was to go on,
though the red-cross kids were to be respected. I should like to draw a
diagram of the field, like the diagrams in the newspapers, but that I
cannot do. I can, however, explain that, when the great moment arrived,
I manned the top of the sand-pit with my army, and during the half hour
of preparation threw up a wall of snow all along the front of the
sand-pit nearly three feet high. And along this wall I arranged the
Fifth, led by Norris, on the right wing. Five men, commanded by
Saunders, specially guarded the incline on the left, which was our weak
spot, and the remaining ten men, all from the Sixth, took up a position
five yards to the rear and above the front line, in such a position that
they could drop curtain fire freely over the Fifth. I, being the Grand
Staff, took up a position on the right wing on a small elevation above
the army, from which I could see the battle in every particular; and
Thwaites, of the Sixth, who was too small and weak to be of any use in
the fighting lines, was my adjutant to run messages and take any
necessary orders to the wings.
As for the enemy, they made no entrenchments or anything of the kind,
though they watched our dispositions with a great deal of interest.
Pegram studied the incline on our wing, and evidently had some ideas
about a frontal attack also, which would certainly mean ruin for him if
he tried it, as it would have been impossible to rush the sand-pit from
the front. They made an enormous amount of ammunition, and as they
piled it within thirty yards of our parapet, they evidently meant to
come to close quarters from the first. I was pleased to observe this.
They arranged their line rather well, in a crescent converging upon our
wings; but there was no rearguard and no reserve, so it was clear
everybody was going into action at once. The officers were
distinguished by wearing white footer shirts, which made them far too
conspicuous objects, and it was clear that Pegram was not going to
regard himself as a Grand Staff, but just fight with the rest. Needless
to say, I was prepared to do the same, and throw myself into the
thickest of it if the battle needed me and things got critical. But I
felt, somehow, from the first that we were impregnable.
Well, the battle began by Fortescue blowing a referee's football
whistle, and instantly the strategy of the enemy was made apparent.
They opened a terrific fire, and their one idea evidently was to
annihilate the Sixth. They ignored the Fifth, but poured their entire
fire upon the Sixth; and a special firing-party of about six or seven
chosen shots, or sharpshooters, poured their entire fire on me, where I
stood alone. About ten snowballs hit me the moment Fortescue's whistle
went, and the position at once became untenable and also dangerous. So I
retired to the Sixth, and sent word to the Fifth by Thwaites to very
much increase the rapidity of their fire. Which they did; and Pegram
appealed that I was out of action, but Fortescue said I was not.
It was exceedingly like the Great War in a way, and the Fourth evidently
felt to the Fifth and Sixth what the Germans felt to the French and
English. They merely hated the Fifth, but they fairly loathed the
Sixth, and wanted to put them all out of action in the first five
minutes of the battle. Needless to say, they failed; but we lost
Saunders, who somehow caught it so hot, guarding the <DW72>, that he got
winded and his nose began to bleed at the same moment, which was a
weakness of his, brought on suddenly by a snowball at rather close
range. So he fell, and the red-cross kids took him out of danger. This
infuriated us, and, keeping our nerve well, we concentrated our fire on
Mitchell, who had come far too close after the success with Saunders. A
fair avalanche of snowballs battered him, and he went down; and though
he got up instantly, it was only to fall again. And Fortescue gave him
out, and he was conducted to a ruined cowshed, where the enemy's
ambulance stood in the rear of their lines.
I had already ordered the Sixth to take open formation and scatter
through the Fifth; and this undoubtedly saved them, for though we lost
my aide-de-camp, Thwaites, who was no fighter and nearly fainted, and
was jolly glad to be numbered with those out of action, for some time
afterwards we lost nobody, and held our own with ease. Once or twice I
took a hand, but it wasn't necessary, and when we fairly settled to
work, we made them see they couldn't live within fifteen yards of us.
They made several rushes, however, but, by a happy strategy, I always
directed our fire on the individual when he came in, and thus got two
out of action, including Rice. He was a great fighter, and I was
surprised he threw up the sponge so soon; but after a regular battering
and blinding, he said he'd "got it in the neck," and fell and was put
out with one eye bunged. Travers minor also fell, rather to my regret;
and what struck me was that, considering all their brag, the Fourth were
not such good plucked ones when it came to the business of real war, as
we were. It made a difference finishing off Rice, for he had fought
well, and his fire was very accurate, as several of us knew to our cost.
I felt now that if we could concentrate on Pegram and Blades, who were
firing magnificently, the battle would be practically over. But Blades,
owing to his great powers, could do execution and still keep out of
range. He was, in fact, their seventeen-inch gun, you might say; and
though Williams on our side could throw further, he proved in action
rather feeble and not a born fighter by any means. As for Pegram, he
always seemed to be behind somebody else, which, knowing his character,
you would have expected. At last, however, he led a storming party to
the <DW72>, and, leaving the bulk of my forces to guard the front, I led
seven to stem his attack. For the first time since the beginning of the
battle, it was hand-to-hand; but we had the advantage of position, and
were never in real danger. I had the great satisfaction of hurling
Pegram over the <DW72> into his own lines, and he fell on his shoulder
and went down and out. He was led away holding his elbow and also
limping; but his loss did not knock the fight out of the Fourth, though
in the same charge they lost Preston and we nearly lost Bassett. But he
got his second wind and was saved to us, though only for a time, for
Blades, who had a private hate of Bassett, came close and scorned the
fire, and got three hard ones in on Bassett from three yards; and
Fortescue had to say Bassett was done. Blades, however, was also done,
and there was a brief armistice while they were taken away.
We now suddenly concentrated on Mitchell, who was tiring and had got
into range. I think he was fed up with the battle, for, after a feeble
return, he went down when about ten well-directed snowballs took him
simultaneously on the face and chest, and then he chucked it and went to
the ambulance. At the same moment one of their chaps, called
Sutherland, did for Norris. Norris had been getting giddy for some
time, and he also feared that he was frost-bitten, and when Sutherland,
creeping right under him, got him well between the eyes with a hard one,
he was fairly blinded, though very sorry to join our casualties. I had
a touch of cramp at the same moment, but it passed off.
We'd had about half an hour now, and five of the ammunition kids were
out of action with frozen hands. Then we got one more of the enemy, in
the shape of Sutherland, and their _moral_ ought to have begun to get
bad; but it did not. Though all their leaders were now down, they stuck
it well, while we simply held them with ease, and repelled two more
attempts on the <DW72>. In fact, Williams wanted to go down and make a
sortie, and get a few more out of action; but this I would not permit
for another five minutes, though during those exciting moments we
prepared for the sortie, and knocked out Abbott, who, much to my
surprise, had fought magnificently and covered himself with glory,
though lame. On their side they got MacAndrew, owing to an accident.
In fact, he slipped over the edge of the sand-pit, and was taken
prisoner before he could get back, and we were sorry to lose him, not so
much for his own sake, as because his capture bucked up the Fourth to
make fresh efforts.
And then came the critical moment of the battle, and a most unexpected
thing happened.
With victory in our grasp, and a decimated opposition, a frightful
surprise occurred, and the most unsporting thing was done by the Fourth
that you could find in the gory annals of war.
It was really all over, bar victory, and we were rearranging ourselves
under a very much weakened fire, when we heard a shout in the woods
behind us, and the shout was evidently a signal. For the whole of the
Fourth still in action made one simultaneous rush for the <DW72>, and of
course we concentrated to fling them back. But then, with a wild
shriek, there suddenly burst upon us from the rear the whole of their
casualties!
Mitchell and Rice and Pegram came first, followed by Travers minor and
Preston and Blades and Sutherland and Abbott. They had rested and
refreshed themselves with two lemons and other commissariat, and then,
taking a circuitous track from behind their ambulance, had got exactly
behind us through the wood. And now, uttering the yells that the
regular Tommies always utter when charging, they were on us with
frightful impetus, just while we were repelling the frontal attack on
the <DW72>, and before we had time to divide to meet them. In fact, they
threw the whole weight of a very fine charge on to us and fairly mowed
us down. There was about a minute of real fighting on the <DW72>, and
blood flowed freely. We got back into the fort, so to say; but the
advancing Fourth came back, too, and the casualties took us in the rear.
Then, unfortunately for us, I was hurled over the sand-pit, and three
chaps--all defenders--came on top of me, and half the snow-bank we had
built came on top of them. With the snowbank gone, it was all up. I
tried fearfully hard to get back, but of course the Fourth had guarded
the <DW72> when they took it, and in about two minutes from the time I
fell out of our ruined fortifications, all was over. In fact, the
Fourth was now on the top of the sand-pit and the shattered Fifth and
Sixth were down below. One by one our men were flung, or fell, over,
and then Fortescue advanced from cover with Brown and blew his whistle,
and the battle was done.
We appealed; but Pegram said all was fair in war, and Fortescue upheld
him; and in a moment of rage I told Pegram and Mitchell they had behaved
like dirty Germans, and Mitchell said they might, or they might not, but
war was war, anyway. And he also said that the first thing to do in the
case of a battle is to win it. And if you win, then what the losers say
about your manners and tactics doesn't matter a button, because the rest
of civilisation will instantly come over to your side.
And Blades said the Sixth had still a bit to learn about strategy,
apparently, and Pegram--showing what he was to a beaten foe--offered to
give me some tips!
Mind you, I'm not pretending we were not beaten, because we were; and
the victors fought quite as well as we did; but I shall always say that,
with another referee than Fortescue, they might have lost on a foul. No
doubt they thought it was magnificent, but it certainly wasn't war--at
least, not what I call war.
We challenged them to a return battle the next Saturday, and Pegram
said, as a rule, you don't have return battles in warfare, but that he
should be delighted to lick us again, with other strategies, of which he
still had dozens at his disposal. Only Pegram feared the snow would
unfortunately all be gone by next Saturday; and the wretched chap was
quite right--it had.
Mitchell, by the way, got congestion of his lungs two days after the
battle, showing how sickness always follows warfare sooner or later.
But he recovered without difficulty.
THE MYSTERY OF FORTESCUE
My name is Abbott, and I came to Merivale two years ago. I have got one
leg an inch and three-quarters shorter than the other, but I make
nothing of it. A nurse dropped me on a fender when I was just born,
owing to a mouse suddenly running across her foot. It was more a
misfortune than anything, and my mother forgave her freely. When I was
old enough I also forgave her. In fact, I only mention it to explain
why I am not going into the Army. All Abbotts do so, and it will be
almost a record my going into something else.
Many chaps have no fighting spirit, and, as a rule, it is not strong in
schoolmasters; yet when the call came for men, three out of our five
answered it and went. Two, who were well up in the Terriers, got
commissions, and the other enlisted, so we were only left with Brown,
who can't see further than a pink-eyed rat and isn't five foot three in
his socks, though in his high-heeled boots he may be, and Fortescue.
You will say this must have had a pretty bright side for us, and, at
first sight, no doubt it looks hopeful. In fact, we took a very
cheerful view of it, because you can do what you like with Brown, and
Fortescue only teaches the Fifth and Sixth.
On the day that Hutchings cleared out to join the Army, and we were only
left with Fortescue, Brown, and the Doctor, we were confronted with
serious news. In fact, after chapel on that day, we heard, much to our
anxiety, that old Dunston himself was going to fill the breach.
Those were his very words. He talked with a sort of ghastly funniness
and used military terms.
He said--
"Now that our valued and honoured friends, Mr. Hutchings, Mr. Manwaring,
and Mr. Meadows have answered their nation's call, with a loyalty to
King and Country inevitable in men who know the demands as well as the
privileges of Empire, it behoves us, as we can and how we can, to fill
their places. This, then, in my contribution to the Great War. I shall
fight in no foreign trenches, but labour here, sleeplessly if need be,
and undertake willingly, proudly, the arduous task that they have left
behind. I shall confront no cannon, but I shall face the Lower School.
Henceforth, after that amalgamation of class and class which will be
necessary, you may count upon your head master to answer the trumpet
call and fill the breach. But I do not disguise from myself that such
labours must prove no sinecure, and I trust the least, as well as the
greatest, to do their part and aid me with good sense and intelligence."
Well, there it was; and we saw in a moment that you can't escape the
horrors of war, even though you are on an island with the Grand Fleet
between | 2,186.168013 |
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Produced by Roberta Staehlin, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE CAVALIERS OF VIRGINIA,
OR, THE RECLUSE OF JAMESTOWN.
AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF THE OLD DOMINION.
BY WILLIAM A. CARUTHERS
THE AUTHOR OF "THE KENTUCKIAN IN NEW-YORK."
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS,
NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET,
AND SOLD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT
THE UNITED STATES.
1834.
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1834, by HARPER &
BROTHERS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern
District of New-York.
THE CAVALIERS OF VIRGINIA.
CHAPTER I.
The romance of history pertains to no human annals more strikingly than
to the early settlement of Virginia. The mind of the reader at once
reverts to the names of Raleigh, Smith, and Pocahontas. The traveller's
memory pictures in a moment the ivy-mantled ruin of old Jamestown.
About the year 16--, the city of Jamestown, then the capital of
Virginia, was by no means an unapt representation of the British
metropolis; both being torn by contending factions, and alternately
subjected to the sway of the Roundheads and Royalists.
First came the Cavaliers who fled hither after the decapitation of their
royal master and the dispersion of his army, many of whom became
permanent settlers in the town or colony, and ever afterwards influenced
the character of the state.
These were the first founders of the aristocracy which prevails in
Virginia to this day; these were the immediate ancestors of that
generous, fox-hunting, wine-drinking, duelling and reckless race of men,
which gives so distinct a character to Virginians wherever they may be
found.
A whole generation of these Cavaliers had grown up in the colony during
the interregnum, and, throughout that long period, were tolerated by
those in authority as a class of probationers. The Restoration was no
sooner announced, however, than they changed places with their late
superiors in authority. That stout old Cavalier and former governor, Sir
William Berkley (who had retired to the shades of Accomack,) was now
called by the unanimous voice of the people, to reascend the vice-regal
chair.
Soon after his second installation came another class of refugees, in
the persons of Cromwell's veteran soldiers themselves, a few of whom
fled hither on account of the distance from the court and the magnitude
of their offences against the reigning powers. It will readily be
perceived even by those not conversant with the primitive history of the
Ancient Dominion, that these heterogeneous materials of Roundheads and
Cavaliers were not the best calculated in the world to amalgamate in the
social circles.
Our story commences a short time after the death of Cromwell and his
son, and the restoration of Charles the Second to the throne of his
fathers.
The city of Jamestown was situated upon an island in the Powhatan, about
twenty leagues from where that noble river empties its waters into those
of the Chesapeake Bay.
This island is long, flat on its surface, and presents a semicircular
margin to the view of one approaching from the southeast; indeed it can
scarcely be seen that it is an island from the side facing the
river--the little branch which separates it from the main land having
doubtless worn its way around by a long and gradual process.
At the period of which we write, the city presented a very imposing and
romantic appearance, the landscape on that side of the river being
shaded in the back ground by the deep green foliage of impenetrable
forests standing in bold relief for many a mile against the sky. Near
the centre of the stream, and nearly opposite the one just mentioned,
stands another piece of land surrounded by water, known to this day by
the very unromantic name of Hog Island, and looking for all the world
like a nest for pirates, so impenetrable are the trees, undergrowth, and
shrubbery with which it is thickly covered.
To prevent the sudden incursions of the treacherous savage, the city was
surrounded with a wall or palisade, from the outside of which, at the
northwestern end, was thrown a wooden bridge, so as to connect the first
mentioned island with the main land. A single street ran nearly parallel
with the river, extending over the upper half of the island and divided
in the centre by the public square. On this were situated the Governor's
mansion, state house, church, and other public buildings. Near where the
line was broken by the space just mentioned, stood two spacious
tenements, facing each other from opposite sides of the street. These
were the rival hotels of the ancient city; and, after the fashion of
that day, both had towering signposts erected before their respective
doors, shaped something like a gibbet, upon which swung monotonously in
the wind two huge painted sign-boards. These stood confronting each
other like two angry rivals--one bearing the insignia of the Berkley
arms, by which name it was designated,--and the other the Cross Keys,
from which it also received its cognomen. The Berkley Arms was the
rendezvous of all the Cavaliers of the colony, both old and young, and
but a short time preceding the date of our story, was honoured as the
place of assembly for the House of Burgesses.
The opposite and rival establishment received its patronage from the
independent or republican faction.
It was late in the month of May, and towards the hour of twilight; the
sun was just sinking behind the long line of blue hills which form the
southwestern bank of the Powhatan, and the red horizontal rays fell
along the rich volume of swelling waters dividing the city of Jamestown
from the hills beyond with a line of dazzling yet not oppressive
brilliance.
As the rich tints upon the water gradually faded away, their place was
supplied in some small degree from large lanterns which now might be
seen running half way up the signposts of the two hotels before
mentioned, together with many lights of less magnitude visible in the
windows of the same establishments and the various other houses within
reflecting distance of the scene. The melancholy monotony of the
rippling and murmuring waters against the long graduated beach now also
began to give place to louder and more turbulent sounds, as the <DW64>s
collected from their work to gossip in the streets--Indians put off from
the shore in their canoes, or the young Cavaliers collected in the
Berkley Arms to discuss the news of the day or perhaps a few bottles of
the landlord's best. On this occasion the long, well-scrubbed oaken
table in the centre of the "News Room" was graced by the presence of
some half dozen of the principal youths of the city. In the centre of
the table stood the half-emptied bottle, and by each guest a full bumper
of wine, and all were eager to be heard as the wine brightened their
ideas and the company received fresh accessions from without.
"Oh, here comes one who can give us some news from the Governor's," said
the speaker _pro tempore_, as a handsome and high-born youth of
twenty-one entered the room with a proud step and haughty mien, and
seated himself at the table as a matter of course, calling for and
filling up a wine glass, and leisurely and carelessly throwing his cap
upon the seat and his arm over the back of the next vacant chair, as he
replied--"No, I bring no news from the Governor's, but I mistake the
signs of the times if we do not soon hear news in this quarter."
All eyes were now turned upon the youth as he tossed off his wine. He
was generally known among his companions by the familiar name of Frank
Beverly, and was a distant kinsman and adopted son of the Governor, Sir
William Berkley. News was no sooner mentioned than our host, turning a
chair upon its balance, and resting his chin upon his hand, was all
attention.
"What is it, Frank?" inquired Philip Ludwell, his most intimate friend
and companion.
"Some mischief is brewing at the Cross Keys to-night," replied Frank, as
the landlord moved up his chair nearer to the table, more than ever on
the _qui vive_, when the Cross Keys became the subject of discussion.
"There is no one in the Tap of the Keys, as I can see from here," said
another of the party, "and there is no light in any other portion of the
house except the apartments of the family."
"They hide their lights under a bushel," continued Frank, with an
affected nasal twang and a smile of contempt. Taking his nearest
companion by the lappel of his doublet, and drawing him gently to where
the rival establishment was visible through the door--"Do you not see a
line of light just perceptible along the margin of the upper window? and
if you will observe steadily for a moment, you will see numerous dim
shadows of moving figures upon the almost impenetrable curtain which is
drawn over it."
"Master Beverly is right, by old Noll's nose," said the landlord, as
they all grouped together to catch a glimpse of the objects mentioned.
"You may well swear by Noll's nose in this case," returned Frank, "for
unless I am much mistaken, those motions and gestures proceed from some
of his late followers; indeed I know it. I was accidentally coming up
the alley-way between the Keys and the next house, when I saw four or
five of them cross the fence into the yard, and from thence enter the
house by the back door."
"That's true, I'll swear," said the host, "for there they are, some
dozen of them at least, and I'm a Rumper if a soul has darkened his
front door this night. But couldn't you, Master Beverly, or one of the
other young gentry, just step to the stout Sir William's, and make an
affidavy to the facts? My word for it, he'd soon be down upon 'em with a
fiery facias or a capias, or some such or another invention of the law."
The youths all burst into a loud cachinnation at the zeal of the
landlord to unmask his rival, and reseating themselves, called for
another bottle, which our friend of the Arms was not slow to produce, by
way of covering his retreat and hiding his disinterested zeal. As they
all refilled their glasses, Frank waved his hand for silence. "Has any
gentleman here seen Mr. Nathaniel Bacon very lately?"
"I have not--I have not," replied each of the party, and the
interrogator then continued, "I would give the best pair of spurs that
ever graced a Cavalier's heels to know whether his long absence has had
any thing to do with the getting up of yonder dark conclave?"
Whether any of the party were Bacon's immediate friends, or whether they
suspected Frank's motives in the case, we shall not undertake to
determine at present; but certain it is they were all silent on the
point except his intimate friend Ludwell, who replied--"By St. George,
Beverly, I believe you are jealous of Bacon on account of the favourable
light in which he is said to stand in the eyes of your fair little
mistress."
"If I thought that Virginia Fairfax would entertain a moment's
consideration for a person of such doubtful parentage and more doubtful
principles as Mr. Nathaniel Bacon, the ill-advised protege of her
father, I would forswear her for ever, and dash this glass against the
floor, with which I now invite you all to join me in pledging her,--What
say you? Will you join me, one and all?" All rose at the invitation, and
while standing with glasses suspended midway to their lips, Ludwell
added the name of "the pretty Harriet Harrison." It was drunk with three
times three, and then the landlord was brought up by the collar of his
jerken between two of the liveliest of the party, and made to tell the
reckoning upon the table with his well-worn chalk. Having settled the
score, they proceeded to decant full half the remaining bottle into one
of his own pint flagons, seized from his shelves for that purpose. "Mine
host" made sundry equivocal contortions of the countenance, and
practised by anticipation several downward motions of the muscles of
deglutition, and then swallowed the enormous potation without a groan.
"There now," said Ludwell, "bear it always in your remembrance that a
like fate awaits you, whenever your wine bears evidence of having passed
rather far into the state of acetous fermentation." As the party were
now leaving the room in pairs, linked arm in arm, "Stop! stop!" cried
Beverly; "I have one proposition to make before we separate. It is this.
You know that there is to be a grand celebration the day after
to-morrow, which is the anniversary of the restoration. The whole to
conclude with a ball at the Governor's, to which I feel myself
authorized to say that you will all be invited. Now I propose that we
all go at different hours to-morrow and engage the hand of the fair
Virginia for the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth sets. So
that when Mr. Nathaniel Bacon returns, as he assuredly will, to claim
her hand, to which he seems to think he has a prescriptive right, he
will find no less than six different successful competitors. What say
you, gentlemen?"
The proposition was instantly acceded to by all the party, and then the
landlord of the Arms was left to digest the pint of his own sour wine in
solitude, as he leaned his overgrown person against the casings of the
door and watched the youths as they departed one by one in different
directions to their respective places of abode.
"Natty Bacon is a goodly youth, however," he muttered in soliloquy; "ha,
ha, ha; but he shall know of the plot if I can only clap eyes on him
before they see the young lady. Let me see; can it be possible that
Natty can have any thing to do with yonder dark meeting of Noll's men?
I'll not believe it; he is too good a youth to meddle with such a
canting, snivelling set as are congregated there. He always pays his
reckoning like any gentleman's son of them all; and a gentleman's son
I'll warrant he is, for all that no one knows his father but Mr. Gideon
Fairfax."
The Cromwellians alluded to, who were supposed by the youths to be
assembled at the Cross Keys, were a few of the late Protector's veteran
soldiers, and were the most desperate, reckless and restless of the
republicans who, as has been already mentioned, had fled to Jamestown
after the restoration. These soldiers were unfitted for any kind of
business, and generally lived upon the precarious hospitality of those
of their own party who had settled themselves as industrious citizens of
the new community.
The names of the leaders of these veteran soldiers and furious bigots
were Berkinhead, Worley, Goodenough and Proudfit; and of these the
reader will hear more anon.
CHAPTER II.
Late in the afternoon of the day succeeding the one designated in the
last chapter, towards the southwestern extremity of the beach and
outside of the palisade, a young and gentle creature, of most surpassing
loveliness, moved thoughtfully along the sandy shore, every now and then
casting a wistful glance over the water, and as often heaving a gentle
sigh, as a shade of girlish disappointment settled upon her blooming
face. Her dress was simple, tasteful, and exquisitely appropriate to her
style of beauty. She had apparently scarce passed her sixteenth
birthday; and of course her figure was not yet rounded out to its full
perfection of female loveliness. So much of her neck as was visible
above a rather high and close cut dress, was of that pure, chaste and
lovely white which gives such an air of heavenly innocence to the
budding girl of that delightful age. The face although exceeding the
neck in the height, variety and richness of its colouring, was not
disfigured by a single freckle, scar or blemish. The features were
generally well proportioned and suited to each other, the lips full and
gently pouting, with a margin of as luxurious tinting as that with which
nature ever adorned the first budding rose of spring, and when parted,
as they often were, by the most gentle and _naive_ laughter, displayed
a set of teeth beautifully white and regular. Yet one could scarcely
fasten the eye upon them for the admiration excited by the exquisite
expression of the dimpled mouth, ever varying, and as it seemed, more
lovely with each succeeding change. The motion of her eyes was so rapid
that it was difficult to ascertain their colour; but certain it is they
were soft and brilliant, the latter effect produced in no small degree
by long fair dewy lashes which rose and fell over the picture, as lights
and shadows fall from the pencil of an inspired painter.
The fair flaxen ringlets fell beneath the small gipsey hat in short
thick curls, and were clustered around her brow, so as to form the most
natural and appropriate shade imaginable to a forehead of polished
ivory. She was about the medium height, symmetrically proportioned, with
an exquisitely turned ankle and little foot, which _now_ bounded over
the beach with an impatience only surpassed by her own impetuous
thoughts, as her eyes became intently riveted upon a moving speck upon
the distant waters. The wild and startled expression, excited in the
first moment of surprise, might now be seen merging into one of perfect
satisfaction, as the distant object began to grow into distinct outlines
at every plunge of the buoyant waves; her heart heaving its own little
current to her face in perfect unison with their boisterous movements.
A beautifully painted canoe soon ran its curled and fantastic head right
under the bank upon which she stood, and in the next moment a gallant
and manly youth leaped upon the shore by her side, and taking her
unresisting hand, gently removed the gipsey hat so as to bring into view
a certain crimsoning of the neck and half averted face. Nathaniel Bacon,
the youth just landed, was about twenty-one, and altogether presented an
appearance of the most attractive and commanding character. He wore a
green hunting jerken, buttoned close up to his throat so as to show off
to the best advantage a broad and manly chest. Upon his head was a broad
brimmed unstiffened castor, falling over his shoulders behind, and
looped up in front by a curiously wrought broach.
A small brass hunting horn swung beneath one shoulder, while to the
other was suspended a short cut and thrust sword. In his hand he bore a
fishing rod and tackle.
Few as evidently were his years, much painful thought had already
shadowed his handsome and commanding features with a somewhat precocious
maturity. It was obviously, however, not the natural temperament of the
man which now shone out in his features, after the subsiding of the
first glow of delighted feeling visible for an instant as he watched the
heightened bloom on the countenance of the maiden.
"You were not irreconcilably offended then at my rash and disrespectful
behaviour to your father at our last meeting?"
"Certainly not irreconcilably so, Nathaniel, if offended at all; but I
will confess to you candidly, that I was hurt and mortified, as much on
your own, as on my father's account."
"You are always kind, considerate and forgiving, Virginia, and it
behooves me in presence of so much gentleness, to ease my conscience in
some measure by a confession. You have sometimes, but I have never,
forgotten that I was thrown upon your father's hospitality an orphan and
an outcast. This fact constantly dwells upon my mind, and sometimes
harrows up my feelings to such a degree that I am scarcely conscious of
my words or actions. It was so on the occasion alluded to. I forgot your
presence, the respect due to your father and my benefactor, as well as
what was due to myself. I had been endeavouring to revive some of the
drunken reminiscences of that eccentric fellow who sits in the canoe
there, but they tended only to inflame my ardent desire to know
something more of myself. Certainly some allowances must be made for me,
Virginia, under the mortifying circumstances in which I am placed. I
thought your father could and ought to relieve this cruel suspense!"
"He will if he can, Nathaniel; and that he does not do so immediately,
is the best evidence to my mind either that he knows nothing on the
subject, or that some powerful reason exists why he should not disclose
his knowledge at present. Come, then, return with me to our house; my
father will take no notice of your absence or its cause, unless to jest
with you upon your want of success in your fishing expedition, which it
seems was the ostensible motive of your absence."
"It was my purpose to return, but I had not so amiably settled the how
and the when; indeed the objects I had in view were so urgent that I
determined to brave even your father's continued anger in order to
obtain an interview with you."
"With me, Nathaniel!"
"Ay, with you, Virginia! You know that | 2,186.169994 |
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Produced by Howard Sauertieg
THE INSTITUTES OF JUSTINIAN
Translated into English by J. B. Moyle, D.C.L. of Lincoln's Inn,
Barrister-at-Law, Fellow and Late Tutor of New College, Oxford
Fifth Edition (1913)
PROOEMIVM
In the name of Our Lord, Jesus Christ.
The Emperor Caesar Flavius Justinian, conqueror of the Alamanni, the
Goths, the Franks, the Germans, the Antes, the Alani, the Vandals, the
Africans, pious, prosperous, renowned, victorious, and triumphant, ever
august,
To the youth desirous of studying the law:
The imperial majesty should be armed with laws as well as glorified
with arms, that there may be good government in times both of war and
of peace, and the ruler of Rome may not only be victorious over his
enemies, but may show himself as scrupulously regardful of justice as
triumphant over his conquered foes.
With deepest application and forethought, and by the blessing of God, we
have attained both of these objects. The barbarian nations which we have
subjugated know our valour, Africa and other provinces without number
being once more, after so long an interval, reduced beneath the sway of
Rome by victories granted by Heaven, and themselves bearing witness to
our dominion. All peoples too are ruled by laws which we have either
enacted or arranged. Having removed every inconsistency from the sacred
constitutions, hitherto inharmonious and confused, we extended our care
to the immense volumes of the older jurisprudence; and, like sailors
crossing the mid-ocean, by the favour of Heaven have now completed a
work of which we once despaired. When this, with God's blessing, had
been done, we called together that distinguished man Tribonian, master
and exquaestor of our sacred palace, and the illustrious Theophilus and
Dorotheus, professors of law, of whose ability, legal knowledge, and
trusty observance of our orders we have received many and genuine
proofs, and especially commissioned them to compose by our authority and
advice a book of Institutes, whereby you may be enabled to learn your
first lessons in law no longer from ancient fables, but to grasp them by
the brilliant light of imperial learning, and that your ears and minds
may receive nothing useless or incorrect, but only what holds good in
actual fact. And thus whereas in past time even the foremost of you were
unable to read the imperial constitutions until after four years, you,
who have been so honoured and fortunate as to receive both the beginning
and the end of your legal teaching from the mouth of the Emperor, can
now enter on the study of them without delay. After the completion
therefore of the fifty books of the Digest or Pandects, in which all
the earlier law has been collected by the aid of the said distinguished
Tribonian and other illustrious and most able men, we directed the
division of these same Institutes into four books, comprising the
first elements of the whole science of law. In these the law previously
obtaining has been briefly stated, as well as that which after becoming
disused has been again brought to light by our imperial aid. Compiled
from all the Institutes of our ancient jurists, and in particular from
the commentaries of our Gaius on both the Institutes and the common
cases, and from many other legal works, these Institutes were submitted
to us by the three learned men aforesaid, and after reading
and examining them we have given them the fullest force of our
constitutions.
Receive then these laws with your best powers and with the eagerness of
study, and show yourselves so learned as to be encouraged to hope that
when you have compassed the whole field of law you may have ability to
govern such portion of the state as may be entrusted to you.
Given at Constantinople the 21st day of November, in the third consulate
of the Emperor Justinian, Father of his Country, ever august.
BOOK I.
TITLES
I. Of Justice and Law
II. Of the law of nature, the law of nations,
and the civil law
III. Of the law of persons
IV. Of men free born
V. Of freedmen
VI. Of persons unable to manumit, and the
causes of their incapacity
VII. Of the repeal of the lex Fufia Caninia
VIII. Of persons independent or dependent
IX. Of paternal power
X. Of marriage
XI. Of adoptions
XII. Of the modes in which paternal power
is extinguished
XIII. Of guardianships
XIV. Who can be appointed guardians by will
XV. Of the statutory guardianship of agnates
XVI. Of loss of status
XVII. Of the statutory guardianship of patrons
XVIII. Of the statutory guardianship of parents
XIX. Of fiduciary guardianship
XX. Of Atilian guardians, and those appointed
under the lex Iulia et Titia
XXI. Of the authority of guardians
XXII. Of the modes in which guardianship
is terminated
XXIII. Of curators
XXIV. Of the security to be given by guardians
and curators
XXV. Of guardians' and curators' grounds
of exemption
XXVI. Of guardians or curators who are
suspected
TITLE I. OF JUSTICE AND LAW
Justice is the set and constant purpose which gives to every man his
due.
1 Jurisprudence is the knowledge of things divine and human, the science
of the just and the unjust.
2 Having laid down these general definitions, and our object being
the exposition of the law of the Roman people, we think that the most
advantageous plan will be to commence with an easy and simple path, and
then to proceed to details with a most careful and scrupulous exactness
of interpretation. Otherwise, if we begin by burdening the student's
memory, as yet weak and untrained, with a multitude and variety of
matters, one of two things will happen: either we shall cause him wholly
to desert the study of law, or else we shall bring him at last, after
great labour, and often, too, distrustful of his own powers (the
commonest cause, among the young, of ill-success), to a point which
he might have reached earlier, without such labour and confident in
himself, had he been led along a smoother path.
3 The precepts of the law are these: to live honestly, to injure no one,
and to give every man his due.
4 The study of law consists of two branches, law public, and law
private. The former relates to the welfare of the Roman State; the
latter to the advantage of the individual citizen. Of private law then
we may say that it is of threefold origin, being collected from the
precepts of nature, from those of the law of nations, or from those of
the civil law of Rome.
TITLE II. OF THE LAW OF NATURE, THE LAW OF NATIONS, AND THE CIVIL LAW
1 The law of nature is that which she has taught all animals; a law not
peculiar to the human race, but shared by all living creatures, whether
denizens of the air, the dry land, or the sea. Hence comes the union
of male and female, which we call marriage; hence the procreation and
rearing of children, for this is a law by the knowledge of which we see
even the lower animals are distinguished. The civil law of Rome, and
the law of all nations, differ from each other thus. The laws of every
people governed by statutes and customs are partly peculiar to itself,
partly common to all mankind. Those rules which a state enacts for its
own members are peculiar to itself, and are called civil law: those
rules prescribed by natural reason for all men are observed by all
peoples alike, and are called the law of nations. Thus the laws of
the Roman people are partly peculiar to itself, partly common to all
nations; a distinction of which we shall take notice as occasion offers.
2 Civil law takes its name from the state wherein it binds; for
instance, the civil law of Athens, it being quite correct to speak thus
of the enactments of Solon or Draco. So too we call the law of the Roman
people the civil law of the Romans, or the law of the Quirites; the law,
that is to say, which they observe, the Romans being called Quirites
after Quirinus. Whenever we speak, however, of civil law, without any
qualification, we mean our own; exactly as, when 'the poet' is spoken
of, without addition or qualification, the Greeks understand the great
Homer, and we understand Vergil. But the law of nations is common to the
whole human race; for nations have settled certain things for themselves
as occasion and the necessities of human life required. For instance,
wars arose, and then followed captivity and slavery, which are contrary
to the law of nature; for by the law of nature all men from the
beginning were born free. The law of nations again is the source of
almost all contracts; for instance, sale, hire, partnership, deposit,
loan for consumption, and very many others.
3 Our law is partly written, partly unwritten, as among the Greeks.
The written law consists of statutes, plebiscites, senatusconsults,
enactments of the Emperors, edicts of the magistrates, and answers of
those learned in the law.
4 A statute is an enactment of the Roman people, which it used to make
on the motion of a senatorial magistrate, as for instance a consul. A
plebiscite is an enactment of the commonalty, such as was made on the
motion of one of their own magistrates, as a tribune. The commonalty
differs from the people as a species from its genus; for 'the people'
includes the whole aggregate of citizens, among them patricians and
senators, while the term 'commonalty' embraces only such citizens as are
not patricians or senators. After the passing, however, of the statute
called the lex Hortensia, plebiscites acquired for the first time the
force of statutes.
5 A senatusconsult is a command and ordinance of the senate, for when
the Roman people had been so increased that it was difficult to assemble
it together for the purpose of enacting statutes, it seemed right that
the senate should be consulted instead of the people.
6 Again, what the Emperor determines has the force of a statute, the
people having conferred on him all their authority and power by the
'lex regia,' which was passed concerning his office and authority.
Consequently, whatever the Emperor settles by rescript, or decides in
his judicial capacity, or ordains by edicts, is clearly a statute: and
these are what are called constitutions. Some of these of course are
personal, and not to be followed as precedents, since this is not the
Emperor's will; for a favour bestowed on individual merit, or a
penalty inflicted for individual wrongdoing, or relief given without
a precedent, do not go beyond the particular person: though others are
general, and bind all beyond a doubt.
7 The edicts of the praetors too have no small legal authority, and
these we are used to call the 'ius honorarium,' because those who occupy
posts of honour in the state, in other words the magistrates, have given
authority to this branch of law. The curule aediles also used to issue
an edict relating to certain matters, which forms part of the ius
honorarium.
8 The answers of those learned in the law are the opinions and views of
persons authorized to determine and expound the law; for it was of old
provided that certain persons should publicly interpret the laws, who
were called jurisconsults, and whom the Emperor privileged to give
formal answers. If they were unanimous the judge was forbidden by
imperial constitution to depart from their opinion, so great was its
authority.
9 The unwritten law is that which usage has approved: for ancient
customs, when approved by consent of those who follow them, are like
statute.
10 And this division of the civil law into two kinds seems not
inappropriate, for it appears to have originated in the institutions of
two states, namely Athens and Lacedaemon; it having been usual in the
latter to commit to memory what was observed as law, while the Athenians
observed only what they had made permanent in written statutes.
11 But the laws of nature, which are observed by all nations alike, are
established, as it were, by divine providence, and remain ever fixed and
immutable: but the municipal laws of each individual state are subject
to frequent change, either by the tacit consent of the people, or by the
subsequent enactment of another statute.
12 The whole of the law which we observe relates either to persons, or
to things, or to actions. And first let us speak of persons: for it is
useless to know the law without knowing the persons for whose sake it
was established.
TITLE III. OF THE LAW OF PERSONS
In the law of persons, then, the first division is into free men and
slaves.
1 Freedom, from which men are called free, is a man's natural power of
doing what he pleases, so far as he is not prevented by force or law:
2 slavery is an institution of the law of nations, against nature
subjecting one man to the dominion of another.
3 The name'slave' is derived from the practice of generals to order the
preservation and sale of captives, instead of killing them; hence they
are also called mancipia, because they are taken from the enemy by the
strong hand.
4 Slaves are either born so, their mothers being slaves themselves; or
they become so, and this either by the law of nations, that is to say
by capture in war, or by the civil law, as when a free man, over twenty
years of age, collusively allows himself to be sold in order that he may
share the purchase money.
5 The condition of all slaves is one and the same: in the conditions
of free men there are many distinctions; to begin with, they are either
free born, or made free.
TITLE IV. OF MEN FREE BORN
A freeborn man is one free from his birth, being the offspring of
parents united in wedlock, whether both be free born or both made free,
or one made free and the other free born. He is also free born if his
mother be free even though his father be a slave, and so also is
he whose paternity is uncertain, being the offspring of promiscuous
intercourse, but whose mother is free. It is enough if the mother be
free at the moment of birth, though a slave at that of conception: and
conversely if she be free at the time of conception, and then becomes a
slave before the birth of the child, the latter is held to be free born,
on the ground that an unborn child ought not to be prejudiced by the
mother's misfortune. Hence arose the question of whether the child of a
woman is born free, or a slave, who, while pregnant, is manumitted, and
then becomes a slave again before delivery. Marcellus thinks he is born
free, for it is enough if the mother of an unborn infant is free at any
moment between conception and delivery: and this view is right.
1 The status of a man born free is not prejudiced by his being placed
in the position of a slave and then being manumitted: for it has been
decided that manumission cannot stand in the way of rights acquired by
birth.
TITLE V. OF FREEDMEN
Those are freedmen, or made free, who have been manumitted from legal
slavery. Manumission is the giving of freedom; for while a man is in
slavery he is subject to the power once known as'manus'; and from that
power he is set free by manumission. All this originated in the law
of nations; for by natural law all men were born free--slavery, and by
consequence manumission, being unknown. But afterwards slavery came in
by the law of nations; and was followed by the boon of manumission; so
that though we are all known by the common name of'man,' three classes
of men came into existence with the law of nations, namely men free
born, slaves, and thirdly freedmen who had ceased to be slaves.
1 Manumission may take place in various ways; either in the holy church,
according to the sacred constitutions, or by default in a fictitious
vindication, or before friends, or by letter, or by testament or any
other expression of a man's last will: and indeed there are many other
modes in which freedom may be acquired, introduced by the constitutions
of earlier emperors as well as by our own.
2 It is usual for slaves to be manumitted by their masters at any time,
even when the magistrate is merely passing by, as for instance while the
praetor or proconsul or governor of a province is going to the baths or
the theatre.
3 Of freedmen there were formerly three grades; for those who were
manumitted sometimes obtained a higher freedom fully recognised by the
laws, and became Roman citizens; sometimes a lower form, becoming by
the lex Iunia Norbana Latins; and sometimes finally a liberty still more
circumscribed, being placed by the lex Aelia Sentia on the footing of
enemies surrendered at discretion. This last and lowest class, however,
has long ceased to exist, and the title of Latin also had become rare:
and so in our goodness, which desires to raise and improve in every
matter, we have amended this in two constitutions, and reintroduced the
earlier usage; for in the earliest infancy of Rome there was but one
simple type of liberty, namely that possessed by the manumitter, the
only distinction possible being that the latter was free born, while
the manumitted slave became a freedman. We have abolished the class of
'dediticii,' or enemies surrendered at discretion, by our constitution,
published among those our decisions, by which, at the suggestion of the
eminent Tribonian, our quaestor, we have set at rest the disputes of
the older law. By another constitution, which shines brightly among the
imperial enactments, and suggested by the same quaestor, we have altered
the position of the 'Latini Iuniani,' and dispensed with all the rules
relating to their condition; and have endowed with the citizenship
of Rome all freedmen alike, without regard to the age of the person
manuumitted, and nature of the master's ownership, or the mode of
manumission, in accordance with the earlier usage; with the addition of
many new modes in which freedom coupled with the Roman citizenship, the
only kind of freedom now known may be bestowed on slaves.
TITLE VI. OF PERSONS UNABLE TO MANUMIT, AND THE CAUSES OF THEIR
INCAPACITY
In some cases, however, manumission is not permitted; for an owner who
would defraud his creditors by an intended manumission attempts in vain
to manumit, the act being made of no effect by the lex Aelia Sentia.
1 A master, however, who is insolvent may institute one of his slaves
heir in his will, conferring freedom on him at the same time, so that
he may become free and his sole and necessary heir, provided no one else
takes as heir under the will, either because no one else was instituted
at all, or because the person instituted for some reason or other does
not take the inheritance. And this was a judicious provision of the
lex Aelia Sentia, for it was most desirable that persons in embarrassed
circumstances, who could get no other heir, should have a slave as
necessary heir to satisfy their creditors' claims, or that at least (if
he did not do this) the creditors might sell the estate in the slave's
name, so as to save the memory of the deceased from disrepute.
2 The law is the same if a slave be instituted heir without liberty
being expressly given him, this being enacted by our constitution in
all cases, and not merely where the master is insolvent; so that in
accordance with the modern spirit of humanity, institution will be
equivalent to a gift of liberty; for it is unlikely, in spite of the
omission of the grant of freedom, that one should have wished the person
whom one has chosen as one's heir to remain a slave, so that one should
have no heir at all.
3 If a person is insolvent at the time of a manumission, or becomes so
by the manumission itself, this is manumission in fraud of creditors.
It is, however, now settled law, that the gift of liberty is not avoided
unless the intention of the manumitter was fraudulent, even though his
property is in fact insufficient to meet his creditors' claims; for men
often hope and believe that they are better off than they really are.
Consequently, we understand a gift of liberty to be avoided only when
the creditors are defrauded both by the intention of the manumitter,
and in fact: that is to say, by his property being insufficient to meet
their claims.
4 The same lex Aelia Sentia makes it unlawful for a master under twenty
years of age to manumit, except in the mode of fictitious vindication,
preceded by proof of some legitimate motive before the council.
5 It is a legitimate motive of manumission if the slave to be manumitted
be, for instance, the father or mother of the manumitter, or his son
or daughter, or his natural brother or sister, or governor or nurse or
teacher, or fosterson or fosterdaughter or fosterbrother, or a slave
whom he wishes to make his agent, or a female slave whom he intends to
marry; provided he marry her within six months, and provided that the
slave intended as an agent is not less than seventeen years of age at
the time of manumission.
6 When a motive for manumission, whether true or false, has once been
proved, the council cannot withdraw its sanction.
7 Thus the lex Aelia Sentia having prescribed a certain mode of
manumission for owners under twenty, it followed that though a person
fourteen years of age could make a will, and therein institute an heir
and leave legacies, yet he could not confer liberty on a slave until he
had completed his twentieth year. But it seemed an intolerable hardship
that a man who had the power of disposing freely of all his property
by will should not be allowed to give his freedom to a single slave:
wherefore we allow him to deal in his last will as he pleases with his
slaves as with the rest of his property, and even to give them their
liberty if he will. But liberty being a boon beyond price, for which
very reason the power of manumission was denied by the older law to
owners under twenty years of age, we have as it were selected a middle
course, and permitted persons under twenty years of age to manumit their
slaves by will, but not until they have completed their seventeenth
and entered on their eighteenth year. For when ancient custom allowed
persons of this age to plead on behalf of others, why should not their
judgement be deemed sound enough to enable them to use discretion in
giving freedom to their own slaves?
TITLE VII. OF THE REPEAL OF THE LEX FUFIA CANINIA
Moreover, by the lex Fufia Caninia a limit was placed on the number of
slaves who could be manumitted by their master's testament: but this
law we have thought fit to repeal, as an obstacle to freedom and to some
extent invidious, for it was certainly inhuman to take away from a man
on his deathbed the right of liberating the whole of his slaves, which
he could have exercised at any moment during his lifetime, unless there
were some other obstacle to the act of manumission.
TITLE VIII. OF PERSONS INDEPENDENT OR DEPENDENT
Another division of the law relating to persons classifies them as
either independent or dependent. Those again who are dependent are in
the power either of parents or of masters. Let us first then consider
those who are dependent, for by learning who these are we shall at the
same time learn who are independent. And first let us look at those who
are in the power of masters.
1 Now slaves are in the power of masters, a power recognised by the
law of all nations, for all nations present the spectacle of masters
invested with power of life and death over slaves; and to whatever is
acquired through a slave his owner is entitled.
2 But in the present day no one under our sway is permitted to
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DOMESTIC FOLK-LORE.
BY
REV. T. F. THISELTON DYER, M.A., OXON.,
_Author of "British Popular Customs" and
"English Folk-lore."_
CASSELL, PETTER, GALPIN & CO.:
_LONDON, PARIS & NEW YORK._
[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
PREFACE.
For the name "Folk-lore" in its present signification, embracing the
Popular Traditions, Proverbial Sayings, Superstitions, and Customs
of the people, we are in a great measure indebted to the late editor
of _Notes and Queries_--Mr. W. J. Thoms--who, in an anonymous
contribution to the _Athenaeum_ of 22nd August, 1846, very aptly
suggested this comprehensive term, which has since been adopted as
the recognised title of what has now become an important branch of
antiquarian research.
The study of Folk-lore is year by year receiving greater attention,
its object being to collect, classify, and preserve survivals of
popular belief, and to trace them as far as possible to their
original source. This task is no easy one, as school-boards and
railways are fast sweeping away every vestige of the old beliefs
and customs which, in days gone by, held such a prominent place in
social and domestic life. The Folk-lorist has, also, to deal with
remote periods, and to examine the history of tales and traditions
which have been handed down from the distant past and have lost
much of their meaning in the lapse of years. But, as a writer in
the _Standard_ has pointed out, Folk-lore students tread on no
man's toes. "They take up points of history which the historian
despises, and deal with monuments more intangible but infinitely more
ancient than those about which Sir John Lubbock is so solicitous.
They prosper and are happy on the crumbs dropped from the tables of
the learned, and grow scientifically rich on the refuse which less
skilful craftsmen toss aside as useless. The tales with which the
nurse wiles her charge asleep provide for the Folk-lore student a
succulent banquet--for he knows that there is scarcely a child's
story or a vain thought that may not be traced back to the boyhood of
the world, and to those primitive races from which so many polished
nations have sprung."
The field of research, too, in which the Folk-lorist is engaged is
a most extensive one, supplying materials for investigation of a
widespread character. Thus he recognises and, as far as he possibly
can, explains the smallest item of superstition wherever found, not
limiting his inquiries to any one subject. This, therefore, whilst
enhancing the value of Folk-lore as a study, in the same degree
increases its interest, since with a perfect impartiality it lays
bare superstition as it exists among all classes of society. Whilst
condemning, it may be, the uneducated peasant who places credence in
the village fortune-teller or "cunning man," we are apt to forget
how oftentimes persons belonging to the higher classes are found
consulting with equal faith some clairvoyant or spirit-medium.
Hence, however reluctant the intelligent part of the community may be
to own the fact, it must be admitted that superstition, in one form
or another, dwells beneath the surface of most human hearts, although
it may frequently display itself in the most disguised or refined
form. Among the lower orders, as a writer has observed, "it wears its
old fashions, in the higher it changes with the rapidity of modes
in fashionable circles." Indeed, it is no matter of surprise that
superstition prevails among the poor and ignorant, when we find the
affluent and enlightened in many cases quite as ready to repose their
belief in the most illogical ideas.
In conclusion, we would only add that the present little volume has
been written with a view of showing how this rule applies even to the
daily routine of Domestic Life, every department of which, as will be
seen in the following pages, has its own Folk-lore.
T. F. THISELTON DYER.
_Brighton, May, 1881._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND INFANCY. PAGE
Value of Superstitions--Lucky Days and Hours of Birth--The
Caul--The Changeling--The Evil Eye--"Up and not
Down"--Rocking the Empty Cradle--Teeth, Nails, and
Hands--The Maple and the Ash--Unchristened Children 1
CHAPTER II.
CHILDHOOD.
Nursery Literature--The Power of Baptism--Confirmation--Popular
Prayers--Weather Rhymes--School Superstitions--Barring
out 16
CHAPTER III.
LOVE AND COURTSHIP.
Love-tests--Plants used in Love-charms--The Lady-bird--The
Snail--St. Valentine's Day--Midsummer Eve--Hallowe'en--Omens
on Friday 23
CHAPTER IV.
MARRIAGE.
Seasons and Days propitious to Marriage--Superstitions connected
with the Bride--Meeting a Funeral--Robbing the Bride of
Pins--Dancing in a Hog's Trough--The Wedding-cake--The Ring 36
CHAPTER V.
DEATH AND BURIAL.
Warnings of Death--The Howling of Dogs--A Cow in the
Garden--Death-presaging Birds--Plants--The Will-o'-the-Wisp--The
Sympathy between Two Personalities--Prophecy--Dying
Hardly--The Last Act--Place and Position of the Grave 48
CHAPTER VI.
THE HUMAN BODY.
Superstitions about Deformity, Moles, &c.--Tingling of the
Ear--The Nose--The Eye--The Teeth--The Hair--The
Hand--Dead Man's Hand--The Feet 65
CHAPTER VII.
ARTICLES OF DRESS.
New Clothes at Easter and Whitsuntide--Wearing of Clothes--The
Clothes of the Dead--The Apron, Stockings, Garters, &c.--The
Shoe--The Glove--The Ring--Pins 81
CHAPTER VIII.
TABLE SUPERSTITIONS.
Thirteen at Table--Salt-spilling--The | 2,186.250402 |
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Additional notes are at the end of the book.
_THE WORKS OF HENRY HALLAM._
INTRODUCTION
TO THE
LITERATURE OF EUROPE
IN THE FIFTEENTH, SIXTEENTH,
AND
SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES.
BY
HENRY HALLAM, F.R.A.S.,
CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE ACADEMY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL SCIENCES
IN THE FRENCH INSTITUTE.
_VOLUME II._
WARD, LOCK & CO.,
LONDON: WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.
NEW YORK: BOND STREET.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
ON THE GENERAL STATE OF LITERATURE IN THE MIDDLE AGES TO THE END
OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY.
Page
Retrospect of Learning in Middle Ages Necessary 1
Loss of learning in Fall of Roman Empire 1
Boethius--his Consolation of Philosophy 1
Rapid Decline of Learning in Sixth Century 2
A Portion remains in the Church 2
Prejudices of the Clergy against Profane Learning 2
Their Uselessness in preserving it 3
First Appearances of reviving Learning in Ireland and England 3
Few Schools before the Age of Charlemagne 3
Beneficial Effects of those Established by him 4
The Tenth Century more progressive than usually supposed 4
Want of Genius in the Dark Ages 5
Prevalence of bad Taste 5
Deficiency of poetical Talent 5
Imperfect State of Language may account for this 6
Improvement at beginning of Twelfth Century 6
Leading Circumstances in Progress of Learning 6
Origin of the University of Paris 6
Modes of treating the Science of Theology 6
Scholastic Philosophy--its Origin 7
Roscelin 7
Progress of Scholasticism; Increase of University of Paris 8
Universities founded 8
Oxford 8
Collegiate Foundations not derived from the Saracens 9
Scholastic Philosophy promoted by Mendicant Friars 9
Character of this Philosophy 10
It prevails least in Italy 10
Literature in Modern Languages 10
Origin of the French, Spanish, and Italian Languages 10
Corruption of colloquial Latin in the Lower Empire 11
Continuance of Latin in Seventh Century 12
It is changed to a new Language in Eighth and Ninth 12
Early Specimens of French 13
Poem on Boethius 13
Provençal Grammar 14
Latin retained in use longer in Italy 14
French of Eleventh Century 14
Metres of Modern Languages 15
Origin of Rhyme in Latin 16
Provençal and French Poetry 16
Metrical Romances--Havelok the Dane 18
Diffusion of French Language 19
German Poetry of Swabian Period 19
Decline of German Poetry 20
Poetry of France and Spain 21
Early Italian Language 22
Dante and Petrarch 22
Change of Anglo-Saxon to English 22
Layamon 23
Progress of English Language 23
English of the Fourteenth Century--Chaucer, Gower 24
General Disuse of French in England 24
State of European Languages about 1400 25
Ignorance of Reading and Writing in darker Ages 25
Reasons for supposing this to have diminished after 1100 26
Increased Knowledge of Writing in Fourteenth Century 27
Average State of Knowledge in England 27
Invention of Paper 28
Linen Paper when first used 28
Cotton Paper 28
Linen Paper as old as 1100 28
Known to Peter of Clugni 29
And in Twelfth and Thirteenth Century 29
Paper of mixed Materials 29
Invention of Paper placed by some too low 29
Not at first very important 30
Importance of Legal Studies 30
Roman Laws never wholly unknown 31
Irnerius--his first Successors 31
Their Glosses 31
Abridgements of Law--Accursius’s Corpus Glossatum 31
Character of early Jurists 32
Decline of Jurists after Accursius 32
Respect paid to him at Bologna 33
Scholastic Jurists--Bartolus 33
Inferiority of Jurists in Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries 34
Classical Literature and Taste in dark Ages 34
Improvement in Tenth and Eleventh Centuries 34
Lanfranc and his Schools 35
Italy--Vocabulary of Papias 36
Influence of Italy upon Europe 36
Increased copying of Manuscripts 36
John of Salisbury 36
Improvement of Classical Taste in Twelfth Century 37
Influence of increased Number of Clergy 38
Decline of Classical Literature in Thirteenth Century 38
Relapse into Barbarism 38
No Improvement in Fourteenth Century--Richard of Bury 39
Library formed by Charles V. at Paris 39
Some Improvement in Italy during Thirteenth Century 40
Catholicon of Balbi 40
Imperfection of early Dictionaries 40
Restoration of Letters due to Petrarch 40
Character of his Style 41
His Latin Poetry 41
John of Ravenna 41
Gasparin of Barziza 42
CHAPTER II.
ON THE LITERATURE OF EUROPE FROM 1400 TO 1440.
Zeal for Classical Literature in Italy 42
Poggio Bracciolini 42
Latin Style of that Age indifferent 43
Gasparin of Barziza 43
Merits of his Style 43
Victorin of Feltre 44
Leonard Aretin 44
Revival of Greek Language in Italy 44
Early Greek Scholars of Europe 44
Under Charlemagne and his Successors 45
In the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries 45
In the Twelfth 46
In the Thirteenth 46
Little Appearance of it in the Fourteenth Century 47
Some Traces of Greek in Italy 47
Corruption of Greek Language itself 47
Character of Byzantine Literature 48
Petrarch and Boccace learn Greek 48
Few acquainted with the Language in their Time 49
It is taught by Chrysoloras about 1395 49
His Disciples 49
Translations from Greek into Latin 50
Public Encouragement delayed 51
But fully accorded before 1440 51
Emigration of learned Greeks to Italy 52
Causes of Enthusiasm for Antiquity in Italy 52
Advanced State of Society 52
Exclusive Study of Antiquity 53
Classical Learning in France low 53
Much more so in England 53
Library of Duke of Gloucester 54
Gerard Groot’s College at Deventer 54
Physical Sciences in Middle Ages 55
Arabian Numerals and Method 55
Proofs of them in Thirteenth Century 56
Mathematical Treatises 56
Roger Bacon 57
His Resemblance to Lord Bacon 57
English Mathematicians of Fourteenth Century 57
Astronomy 58
Alchemy 58
Medicine 58
Anatomy 58
Encyclopædic Works of Middle Ages 58
Vincent of Beauvais 59
Berchorius 59
Spanish Ballads 59
Metres of Spanish Poetry 60
Consonant and assonant Rhymes 60
Nature of the Glosa 61
The Cancionero General 61
Bouterwek’s Character of Spanish Songs 61
John II. 62
Poets of his Court 62
Charles, Duke of Orleans 62
English Poetry 62
Lydgate 63
James I. of Scotland 63
Restoration of Classical Learning due to Italy 63
Character of Classical Poetry lost in Middle Ages 64
New School of Criticism in Modern Languages 64
Effect of Chivalry on Poetry 64
Effect of Gallantry towards Women 64
Its probable Origin 64
It is shown in old Teutonic Poetry;
but appears in the Stories of Arthur 65
Romances of Chivalry of two Kinds 65
Effect of Difference of Religion upon Poetry 66
General Tone of Romance 66
Popular Moral Fictions 66
Exclusion of Politics from Literature 67
Religious Opinions 67
Attacks on the Church 67
Three Lines of Religious Opinions in Fifteenth Century 67
Treatise de Imitatione Christi 68
Scepticism--Defences of Christianity 69
Raimond de Sebonde 69
His Views misunderstood 69
His real Object 70
Nature of his Arguments 70
CHAPTER III.
ON THE LITERATURE OF EUROPE FROM 1440 TO THE CLOSE
OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.
The year 1440 not chosen as an Epoch 71
Continual Progress of Learning 71
Nicolas V. 71
Justice due to his Character 72
Poggio on the Ruins of Rome 72
Account of the East, by Conti 72
Laurentius Valla 72
His Attack on the Court of Rome 72
His Treatise on the Latin Language 73
Its Defects 73
Heeren’s Praise of it 73
Valla’s Annotations on the New Testament 73
Fresh Arrival of Greeks in Italy 74
Platonists and Aristotelians 74
Their Controversy 74
Marsilius Ficinus 75
Invention of Printing 75
Block Books 75
Gutenberg and Costar’s Claims 75
Progress of the Invention 76
First printed Bible 76
Beauty of the Book 77
Early printed Sheets 77
Psalter of 1547--Other early Books 77
Bible of Pfister 77
Greek first taught at Paris 78
Leave unwillingly granted 78
Purbach--his Mathematical Discoveries 78
Other Mathematicians 78
Progress of Printing in Germany 79
Introduced into France 79
Caxton’s first Works 79
Printing exercised in Italy 79
Lorenzo de’ Medici 80
Italian Poetry of Fifteenth Century 80
Italian Prose of same Age 80
Giostra of Politian 80
Paul II. persecutes the Learned 81
Mathias Corvinus 81
His Library 81
Slight Signs of Literature in England 81
Paston Letters 82
Low Condition of Public Libraries 83
Rowley 83
Clotilde de Surville 83
Number of Books printed in Italy 83
First Greek printed 84
Study of Antiquities 84
Works on that Subject 84
Publications in Germany 85
In France 85
In England, by Caxton 85
In Spain 85
Translations of Scripture 85
Revival of Literature in Spain 86
Character of Labrixa 86
Library of Lorenzo 87
Classics corrected and explained 87
Character of Lorenzo 87
Prospect from his Villa at Fiesole 87
Platonic Academy 88
Disputationes Camaldulenses of Landino 88
Philosophical Dialogues 89
Paulus Cortesius 89
Schools in Germany 89
Study of Greek at Paris 91
Controversy of Realists and Nominalists 91
Scotus 91
Ockham 92
Nominalists in University of Paris 92
Low State of Learning in England 92
Mathematics 93
Regiomontanus 93
Arts of Delineation 93
Maps 94
Geography 94
Greek printed in Italy 94
Hebrew printed 95
Miscellanies of Politian 95
Their Character, by Heeren 95
His Version of Herodian 96
Cornucopia of Perotti 96
Latin Poetry of Politian 96
Italian Poetry of Lorenzo 97
Pulci 97
Character of Morgante Maggiore 97
Platonic Theology of Ficinus 98
Doctrine of Averroes on the Soul 98
Opposed by Ficinus 99
Desire of Man to explore Mysteries 99
Various Methods employed 99
Reason and Inspiration 99
Extended Inferences from Sacred Books 99
Confidence in Traditions 100
Confidence in Individuals as inspired 100
Jewish Cabbala 100
Picus of Mirandola 101
His Credulity in the Cabbala 101
His Literary Performances 102
State of Learning in Germany 102
Agricola 103
Renish Academy 103
Reuchlin 104
French Language and Poetry 104
European Drama 104
Latin 104
Orfeo of Politian 105
Origin of Dramatic Mysteries 105
Their early Stage 105
Extant English Mysteries 105
First French Theatre 106
Theatrical Machinery 107
Italian Religious Dramas 107
Moralities 107
Farces 107
Mathematical Works 107
Leo Baptista Alberti 108
Lionardo da Vinci 108
Aldine Greek Editions 109
Decline of Learning in Italy 110
Hermolaus Barbarus 111
Mantuan 111
Pontanus 111
Neapolitan Academy 112
Boiardo 112
Francesco Bello 113
Italian Poetry near the End of the Century 113
Progress of Learning in France and Germany 113
Erasmus--his Diligence 114
Budæus--his early Studies 114
Latin not well written in France 115
Dawn of Greek Learning in England 115
Erasmus comes to England 116
He publishes his Adages 116
Romantic Ballads of Spain 116
Pastoral Romances 117
Portuguese Lyric Poetry 117
German popular Books 117
Historical Works 118
Philip de Comines 118
Algebra 118
Events from 1490 to 1500 119
Close of Fifteenth Century 119
Its Literature nearly neglected 119
Summary of its Acquisitions 119
Their Imperfection 120
Number of Books printed 120
Advantages already reaped from Printing 120
Trade of Bookselling 121
Books sold by Printers 121
Price of Books 122
Form of Books 122
Exclusive Privileges 122
Power of Universities over Bookselling 123
Restraints on Sale of Printed Books 124
Effect of Printing on the Reformation 124
CHAPTER IV.
ON THE LITERATURE OF EUROPE FROM 1500 TO 1520.
Decline of Learning in Italy 125
Press of Aldus 125
His Academy 126
Dictionary of Calepio 126
Books printed in Germany 126
First Greek Press at Paris 126
Early Studies of Melanchthon 127
Learning in England 127
Erasmus and Budæus 128
Study of Eastern Languages 128
Dramatic Works 128
Calisto and Melibœa 128
Its Character 129
Juan de la Enzina 129
Arcadia of Sanazzaro 129
Asolani of Bembo 130
Dunbar 130
Anatomy of Zerbi 130
Voyages of Cadamosto 130
Leo X., his Patronage of Letters 131
Roman Gymnasium 131
Latin Poetry 132
Italian Tragedy 132
Sophonisba of Trissino 132
Rosmunda of Rucellai 132
Comedies of Ariosto 132
Books printed in Italy 133
Cælius Rhodiginus 133
Greek printed in France and Germany 133
Greek Scholars in these Countries 134
College at Alcala and Louvain 134
Latin Style in France 135
Greek Scholars in England 135
Mode of Teaching in Schools 136
Few Classical Works printed here 137
State of Learning in Scotland 137
Utopia of More 137
Inconsistency in his Opinions 138
Learning restored in France 138
Jealousy of Erasmus and Budæus 138
Character of Erasmus 139
His Adages severe on Kings 139
Instances in illustration 140
His Greek Testament 142
Patrons of Letters in Germany 142
Resistance to Learning 143
Unpopularity of the Monks 145
The Book excites Odium 145
Erasmus attacks the Monks 145
Their Contention with Reuchlin 145
Origin of the Reformation 146
Popularity of Luther 147
Simultaneous Reform by Zwingle 147
Reformation prepared beforehand 147
Dangerous Tenets of Luther 148
Real Explanation of them 149
Orlando Furioso 150
Its Popularity 150
Want of Seriousness 150
A Continuation of Boiardo 150
In some Points inferior 151
Beauties of its Style 151
Accompanied with Faults 151
Its Place as a Poem 152
Amadis de Gaul 152
Gringore 152
Hans Sachs 152
Stephen Hawes 153
Change in English Language 153
Skelton 154
Oriental Languages 154
Pomponatius 155
Raymond Lully 155
His Method 155
Peter Martyr’s Epistles 156
CHAPTER V.
HISTORY OF ANCIENT LITERATURE IN EUROPE FROM 1520 TO 1550.
Superiority of Italy in Taste 157
Admiration of Antiquity 158
Sadolet 158
Bembo 159
Ciceronianus of Erasmus 159
Scaliger’s Invective against it 160
Editions of Cicero 160
Alexander ab Alexandro 160
Works on Roman Antiquities 161
Greek less Studied in Italy 161
Schools of Classical Learning 161
Budæus--his Commentaries on Greek 161
Their Character 162
Greek Grammars and Lexicons 162
Editions of Greek Authors 163
Latin Thesaurus of R. Stephens 163
Progress of Learning in France 164
Learning in Spain 165
Effects of Reformation on Learning 165
Sturm’s Account of German Schools 165
Learning in Germany 166
In England--Linacre 166
Lectures in the Universities 166
Greek perhaps Taught to Boys 167
Teaching of Smith at Cambridge 167
Succeeded by Cheke 168
Ascham’s Character of Cambridge 168
Wood’s Account of Oxford 168
Education of Edward and his Sisters 169
The Progress of Learning is still slow 169
Want of Books and Public Libraries 169
Destruction of Monasteries no Injury to Learning 169
Ravisius Textor 170
Conrad Gesner 170
CHAPTER VI.
HISTORY OF THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE IN EUROPE FROM 1520 TO 1550.
Progress of the Reformation 171
Interference of Civil Power 171
Excitement of Revolutionary Spirit 172
Growth of Fanaticism 172
Differences of Luther and Zwingle 172
Confession of Augsburg 173
Conduct of Erasmus 173
Estimate of it 174
His Controversy with Luther 174
Character of his Epistles 176
His Alienation from the Reformers increases 176
Appeal of the Reformers to the Ignorant 176
Parallel of those Times with the Present 177
Calvin 177
His Institutes 177
Increased Differences among Reformers 178
Reformed Tenets spread in England 178
In Italy 178
Italian Heterodoxy 179
Its Progress in the Literary Classes 180
Servetus 180
Arianism in Italy 181
Protestants in Spain and Low Countries 181
Order of Jesuits 181
Their Popularity 181
Council of Trent 182
Its Chief Difficulties 182
Character of Luther 182
Theological Writings--Erasmus 183
Melanchthon--Romish Writers 183
This Literature nearly forgotten 184
Sermons 184
Spirit of the Reformation 184
Limits of Private Judgment 185
Passions instrumental in Reformation 185
Establishment of new Dogmatism 186
Editions of Scripture 186
Translations of Scripture 186
In English 187
In Italy and Low Countries 187
Latin Translations 187
French Translations 188
CHAPTER VII.
HISTORY OF SPECULATIVE, MORAL, AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, AND OF
JURISPRUDENCE, IN EUROPE, FROM 1520 TO 1550.
Logic included under this head 188
Slow Defeat of Scholastic Philosophy 188
It is sustained by the Universities and Regulars 188
Commentators on Aristotle 188
Attack of Vives on Scholastics 189
Contempt of them in England 189
Veneration for Aristotle 189
Melanchthon countenances him 189
His own Philosophical Treatises 190
Aristotelians of Italy 190
University of Paris 190
New Logic of Ramus 190
It meets with unfair treatment 191
Its Merits and Character 191
Buhle’s account of it 191
Paracelsus 191
His Impostures 192
And Extravagancies 192
Cornelius Agrippa 192
His pretended Philosophy 193
His Sceptical Treatise 193
Cardan 193
Influence of Moral Writers 194
Cortegiano of Castiglione 194
Marco Aurelio of Guevara 194
His Menosprecio di Corte 194
Perez d’Oliva 195
Ethical Writings of Erasmus and Melanchthon 195
Sir T. Elyot’s Governor 195
Severity of Education 196
He seems to avoid Politics 196
Nicholas Machiavel 196
His motives in writing the Prince 197
Some of his Rules not immoral 197
But many dangerous 197
Its only Palliation 198
His Discourses on Livy 198
Their leading Principles 198
Their Use and Influence 199
His History of Florence 199
Treatises on Venetian Government 199
Calvin’s Political Principles 199
Jurisprudence confined to Roman Law 200
The Laws not well arranged 200
Adoption of the entire System 200
Utility of General Learning to Lawyers 200
Alciati--his Reform of Law 201
Opposition to him 201
Agustino 201
CHAPTER VIII.
HISTORY OF THE LITERATURE OF TASTE IN EUROPE FROM 1520 TO 1550.
Poetry of Bembo 201
Its Beauties and Defects 202
Character of Italian Poetry 202
Alamanni 202
Vittoria Colonna 202
Satires of Ariosto and Alamanni 203
Alamanni | 2,186.252344 |
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RULES
AND
REGULATIONS
OF THE
INSANE ASYLUM OF CALIFORNIA.
PRESCRIBED BY THE RESIDENT PHYSICIAN,
AUGUST 1, 1861.
STOCKTON:
ARMOR & CLAYES, PRINTERS.
1861.
RESIDENT PHYSICIAN.
The Resident Physician, who shall also be the Superintendent, shall be
the chief executive officer of the Asylum; he shall have the general
superintendence of the buildings, grounds, and property, subject to the
laws and regulations of the Trustees; he shall have the sole control and
management of the patients; he shall ascertain their condition, daily
prescribe their treatment, and adopt such sanitary measures as he may
think best; he shall appoint, with the approval of the Trustees, so many
attendants and assistants as he may think proper and necessary for the
economical and efficient performance of the business of the Asylum,
prescribe their several duties and places;--he shall, also, from time to
time, give such orders and instructions as he may judge best calculated
to insure good conduct, fidelity and economy in every department of
labor and expense; and he is authorized and enjoined to maintain
salutary discipline among all who are employed by the Institution, and
uniform obedience to all the rules and regulations of the
Asylum.--[_State Law of 1858._
ASSISTANT PHYSICIAN.
FIRST.
"The Assistant Physician shall perform" the "duties, and be subject to
the responsibility of the Superintendent, in his sickness or absence,
and" he "may call to his aid, for the time being, such medical
assistance, as he may deem necessary"--"and perform such other duties as
may be directed by the Superintendent and prescribed by the
By-Laws."--[_State Law of 1858._
SECOND.
He shall prepare and superintend the administration of medicines, visit
the wards frequently, and carefully note the condition and progress of
individual cases; see that the directions of the Superintendent are
faithfully executed, and promptly report any case of neglect or abuse
that may come under his observation, or of which he may be informed.
THIRD.
He shall assist in devising employment and recreation for the patients,
and endeavor in every way to promote their comfort and recovery; keep
such records of cases as the Superintendent may direct, assist in
preparing statistics, and conducting correspondence, and he shall
perform such other duties of his office as properly belong thereto.
GENERAL RULES.
1. Persons employed in the service of the Asylum will learn that
character, proper deportment, and faithfulness to duty, will alone keep
them in the situations in which they are placed; and they should
consider well, before entering upon service, whether they are prepared
to devote all their time, talents, and efforts, in the discharge of the
duties assigned to them. The Institution will deal in strict good faith
with its employees, and it will expect, in return, prompt, faithful, and
self-denying service.
2. No one can justly take offense when respectfully informed by the
Superintendent, that his or her temperament is better adapted to some
other employment; and those receiving such information should regard it
as kindly given, that they may have opportunity to avoid the
unpleasantness of being discharged.
3. Those employed at the Asylum be expected to hold themselves in
readiness for duty when directed by its officers; and the neglect of any
labor, or duty, on the ground that laboring hours are over, or to
hesitate, after proper direction, on such pretexts, will be regarded as
evidence against the fitness of the employee for the place he or she may
hold.
4. It must be remembered by all the employees, that their duties are
peculiar and confidential, and that there is an obvious impropriety in
disclosing the names, peculiarities, or acts of the inmates. It should
never be forgotten that the most cruel wounds may, by imprudent
disclosures, be inflicted on those whose conduct and language, during
their misfortune, should be covered with the veil of deepest secrecy.
Conversations, in relation to the Asylum and its inmates, sought by the
idle and mischievous, should be studiously avoided.
5. All persons employed in the Asylum are required to cultivate a calm
and deliberate method of performing their daily duties--carelessness and
precipitation being never more out of place than in an insane asylum.
Loud talking, hurrying up and down stairs, rude forms of address to one
another, and unsightly styles of dress, are wholly misplaced where
everything should be strictly decorous and orderly.
6. In the management of patients, unvarying kindness must be strictly
observed by all. When spoken to, mild, pleasant and persuasive language
must never give place to authoritative expressions of any kind. All
threats, taunts, or other kinds of abuse in language, are expressly
forbidden. A blow, kick, or any other kind of physical abuse, inflicted
on a patient, will be immediately followed by the dismissal of the
person so offending.
7. Employees having charge of patients outside of the wards, whether for
labor or exercise, will be held responsible for their safe return,
unless, by the direction of an officer they shall be transferred to the
charge of some other person; and when patients employed out of doors
become excited, they must be immediately returned to the wards whence
they were taken, and the fact reported at the office.
8. It will be expected of all employed in or about the Asylum, to check,
as far as possible, all conversations or allusions, on the part of
patients, to subjects of an obscene or improper nature, and remove, when
in their power, false impressions on their minds, respecting their
confinement or management; and any person who shall discover a patient
devising plans for escape, suicide, or violence to others, is enjoined
to report it to an officer without delay.
9. The place of duty of those having charge of patients is in the wards,
or in the yards, or in the garden with the patients. During the day and
while the patients are out of their sleeping apartments, they have no
business in their rooms, except for a momentary errand to adjust their
own clothing; and any employee who shall enter his or her room, and
engage in reading, writing, entertaining visitors, or be otherwise off
duty, will be acting in violation of rule.
10. The employees are not permitted to correspond with the friends of
patients; and all letters or packages to, or from, patients, must pass
through the hands of the Superintendent or Assistant Physician. All
making of dresses, working of embroidery, or any mechanism, for the use
of employees, is prohibited, unless by the special permission of the
Superintendent; and no employee of the Institution shall ever make any
bargain with any patient, or his or her friends, or accept of any fee,
reward or gratuity from any patient, or his or her friends, without the
Superintendent's consent.
11. Employees will not be permitted to leave the Asylum without the
consent of the Superintendent or Assistant Physician, and, when allowed
to leave, they will be expected to return by 9 o'clock P. M.--unless
expressly permitted to remain out longer. Before leaving they must hang
up their keys in the place, in the office, provided for that purpose.
Non-residents will not be permitted to remain in the Institution at
night without the knowledge and consent of the Superintendent or
Assistant Physician.
12. No person will be employed in or about the Asylum who is intemperate
in habits, or who engages in gambling or any other immoral or
disreputable practice; and as the patients are not allowed the use of
tobacco, within the Asylum, the employees are expected not to use it, in
any form, in their presence.
13. While employees are not prohibited from _occasionally_ visiting each
other in their wards, it should never become a habit, and the indulgence
is only allowed in view of the spirit of emulation, which may thus be
encouraged by sometimes inspecting each other's sphere of duty. When it
is discovered that the permission is abused, or that visits are being
spent in idle conversation, it will be held as a violation of rule.
14. The two departments of the Institution--male and female--must always
be separate to its employees, and no person, whose post of duty is
exclusively in the one, shall ever be permitted to enter the other,
unless some express or proper occasion shall demand it; and any one who
shall discover, and not disclose, or who shall in any way encourage, an
acquaintance between two patients, of opposite sex, will be held highly
culpable for such misdemeanor, and will be forthwith dismissed from
service.
15. No employee will be permitted to appropriate to his or her use any
article belonging to the Asylum, or purchased for the use of the
patients, however small or comparatively valueless it may be. From the
salary of the person so offending, the cost of the article will be
deducted, and he or she dismissed from service.
STEWARD.
1. The Steward shall have a general oversight of the business of the
farm, garden, grounds, fences and buildings; he shall assist in
maintaining the police regulations of the Asylum, observe the deportment
of those employed in subordinate positions, see that they do their duty,
and report to the Superintendent any instance of neglect or misconduct,
that he may observe, or of which he may be informed; he shall see to the
opening and closing of the house; that the employees rise and commence
their duties at the ringing of the bell, and return at proper season at
night; that the bell is rung promptly at such hours as may be
designated, from time to time, by the Superintendent. He shall have a
general care of the male patients, see that they are kindly treated,
that their clothes are taken care of, that their food is properly
cooked, served and distributed, that the rooms, passages and other
apartments are kept clean and properly warmed and ventilated, and that
every thing pertaining to the Asylum property is kept in order and in
good repair.
2. The Steward shall receive and store all provisions, fuel, clothing,
etc. provided by contracts, and, also, all supplies purchased under the
direction of the Superintendent, and he will be held responsible for the
safe-keeping and economical distribution of the same.
3. He shall keep just, accurate and methodical accounts of all articles
received, and all articles purchased by him, together with all
distributions of supplies to the several departments of the
Institution--each and every day's accounts exhibiting, in detail, the
number, quantity weight or measurement, as the nature of the case may
be, of each and every article received, and from whom, and distributed,
and to whom.
4. On the receipt of supplies, whether obtained under contract, or
purchased by order of the Superintendent, the Steward shall require a
bill or invoice of the same, and if, upon a careful examination of the
quality, quantity, weight or measurement of the article or articles,
they shall be found to correspond with the item or items of the bill, he
shall enter the aggregate amount, with the date and number of the
invoice, in a book provided for that purpose, after which he shall
endorse the bill _correct_, and file it, together with an abstract of
his daily disbursements, in the office of the Superintendent.
5. The Steward will be expected to devote his whole time to the
interests of the Institution, assist, in every way in his power, to
preserve order in the house, and faithfulness among the employees, and
see that all the rules and regulations of the Asylum are fully observed.
MATRON.
1. The Matron shall have charge of the female department of the Asylum.
It will be expected of her to be with the female patients, in all the
wards, as much as possible; see that they are kindly treated; that their
food is properly cooked, served and distributed; that their apartments
are kept clean and in good order, and properly warmed and ventilated;
that the female employees attend to their duties in all respects, and
report to the Superintendent any departure, on their part, from the
rules and regulations of the Institution.
2. The bedding, table linen, napkins, and drapery furniture, carpets,
table covers, and all similar property of the female department, as well
as the clothing of the female patients, shall be under her general care
and supervision. She shall direct the employment and amusements of all
the inmates of the female wards; in short, it will be expected of her to
look frequently and carefully into every interest connected with her
department; and thus | 2,186.55064 |
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THE HONORABLE MISS MOONLIGHT
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE
HONORABLE
MISS MOONLIGHT
BY
ONOTO WATANNA
AUTHOR OF
“A JAPANESE NIGHTINGALE”
“TAMA” ETC.
[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo]
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
M C M X I I
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOKS BY
ONOTO WATANNA
THE HONORABLE MISS MOONLIGHT. Post
8vo net $1.00
A JAPANESE NIGHTINGALE. Illustrated.
Crown 8vo net 2.00
A JAPANESE BLOSSOM. Illustrated in color.
8vo net 2.00
THE WOOING OF WISTARIA. Illustrated. Post
8vo net 1.50
THE HEART OF HYACINTH. Illustrated in color.
Crown 8vo net 2.00
TAMA. Illustrated. Japan tint paper. Crown
8vo net 1.60
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
-------
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1912
H-M
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO
J. W., L. W., AND E. McK.
IN REMEMBRANCE
OF KIND WORDS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE HONORABLE MISS MOONLIGHT
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE HONORABLE MISS MOONLIGHT
CHAPTER I
THE day had been long and sultry. It was the season of little heat, when
an all-encompassing humidity seemed suspended over the land. Sky and
earth were of one monotonous color, a dim blue, which faded to shadowy
grayness at the fall of the twilight.
With the approach of evening, a soothing breeze crept up from the river.
Its faint movement brought a measure of relief, and nature took on a
more animated aspect.
Up through the narrow, twisting roads, in and out of the never-ending
paths, the lights of countless jinrikishas twinkled, bound for the
Houses of Pleasure. Revelers called to each other out of the balmy
darkness. Under the quivering light of a lifted lantern, suspended for
an instant, faces gleamed out, then disappeared back into the darkness.
To the young Lord Saito Gonji the night seemed to speak with myriad
tongues. Like some finely tuned instrument whose slenderest string must
vibrate if touched by a breath, so the heart of the youth was stirred by
every appeal of the night. He heard nothing of the chatter and laughter
of those about him. For the time at least, he had put behind him that
sickening, deadening thought that had borne him company now for so long.
He was giving himself up entirely to the brief hour of joy, which had
been agreeably extended to him in extenuation of the long life of
thralldom yet to come.
It was in his sole honor that the many relatives and connections of his
family had assembled, joyously to celebrate the fleeting hours of youth.
For within a week the Lord Saito Gonji was to marry. Upon this pale and
dreamy youth the hopes of the illustrious house of Saito depended. To
him the august ancestors looked for the propagating of their honorable
seed. He was the last of a great family, and had been cherished and
nurtured for one purpose only.
With almost as rigid care as would have been bestowed upon a novitiate
priest, Gonji had been educated.
“Send the child you love upon a journey,” admonished the stern-hearted
Lady Saito Ichigo to her husband; and so at the early age of five the
little Gonji was sent to Kummumotta, there to be trained under the
strictest discipline known to the samourai. Here he developed in
strength and grace of body; but, seemingly caught in some intangible
web, the mind of the youth awoke not from its dreams. His arm had the
strength of the samourai, said his teachers, but his spirit and his
heart were those of the poet.
There came a period when he was placed in the Imperial University, and a
new life opened to the wondering youth. New laws, new modes of | 2,186.550664 |
2023-11-16 18:53:30.5307000 | 7,168 | 14 |
Produced by David Widger
BIBLE STUDIES
ESSAYS ON PHALLIC WORSHIP AND OTHER CURIOUS RITES AND CUSTOMS
By J. M. Wheeler
"There is nothing unclean of itself: but to him that
esteemeth anything to be unclean, to him it is unclean."
--Paul (Romans xiv. 14).
1892.
Printed and Published By G. W. Foote
PREFACE.
My old friend Mr. Wheeler asks me to launch this little craft, and I do
so with great pleasure. She is not a thunderous ironclad, nor a gigantic
ocean liner; but she is stoutly built, well fitted, and calculated to
weather all the storms of criticism. My only fear is that she will not
encounter them.
During the sixteen years of my friend's collaboration with me in
many enterprises for the spread of Freethought and the destruction of
Superstition, he has written a vast variety of articles, all possessing
distinctive merit, and some extremely valuable. From these he and I have
made the following selection. The articles included deal with the Bible
from a special standpoint; the standpoint of an Evolutionist, who reads
the Jewish Scriptures in the light of anthropology, and finds infinite
illustrations in them of the savage origin of religion.
Literary and scientific criticism of the Old Testament have their
numerous votaries. Mr. Wheeler's mind is given to a different study
of the older half of the Bible. He is bent on showing what it really
contains; what religious ideas, rites, and customs prevailed among the
ancient Jews and find expression in their Scriptures. This is a fruitful
method, especially in _our_ country, if it be true, as Dr. Tylor
observes, that "the English mind, not readily swayed by rhetoric, moves
freely under the pressure of facts."
Careful readers of this little book will find it full of precious
information. Mr. Wheeler has a peculiarly wide acquaintance with the
literature of these subjects. He has gathered from far and wide, like
the summer bee, and what he yields is not an undigested mass of facts,
but the pure honey of truth.
Many readers will be astonished at what Mr. Wheeler tells them. We
have read the Bible, they will say, and never saw these things. That is
because they read it without knowledge, or without attention. Reading
is not done with the eyes only, but also with the brain; and the same
sentences will make various impressions, according as the brain is rich
or poor in facts and principles. Even the great, strong mind of Darwin
had to be plentifully stored with biological knowledge before he could
see the meaning of certain simple facts, and discover the wonderful law
of Natural Selection.
Those who have studied the works of Spencer, Tylor, Lubbock, Frazer, and
such authors, will _not_ be astonished at the contents of this volume.
But they will probably find some points they had overlooked; some
familiar points presented with new force; and some fresh views, whose
novelty is not their only virtue: for Mr. Wheeler is not a slavish
follower of even the greatest teachers, he thinks for himself, and shows
others what he has seen with his own eyes.
I hope this little volume will find many readers. Its doing so will
please the author, for every writer wishes to be read; why else, indeed,
should he write? Only less will be the pleasure of his friend who pens
this Preface. I am sure the book will be instructive to most of those
into whose hands it falls; to the rest, the few who really study and
reflect, it will be stimulating and suggestive. Greater praise the
author would not desire; so much praise cannot often be given with
sincerity.
G. W. Foote.
PHALLIC WORSHIP AMONG THE JEWS.
"The hatred of indecency, which appears to us so natural as
to be thought innate, and which is so valuable an aid to
chastity, is a modern virtue, appertaining exclusively, as
Sir G. Staunton remarks, to civilised life. This is shown by
the ancient religious rites of various nations, by the
drawings on the walls of Pompeii, and by the practices of
many savages."--C. Darwin, "Descent of Man" pt. 1, chap.
iv., vol. i., p. 182; 1888.
The study of religions is a department of anthropology, and nowhere is
it more important to remember the maxim of the pagan Terence, _Homo sum,
nihil humani a me alienum puto_. It is impossible to dive deep into any
ancient faiths without coming across a deal of mud. Man has often been
defined as a religious animal. He might as justly be termed a dirty and
foolish animal. His religions have been growths of earth, not gifts from
heaven, and they usually bear strong marks of their clayey origin.*
* The Contemporary Review for June 1888, says (p. 804) "when
Lord Dalhousie passed an Act intended to repress obscenity
(in India), a special clause in it exempted all temples and
religious emblems from its operation."
I am not one of those who find in phallicism the key to all the
mysteries of mythology. All the striking phenomena of nature--the
alternations of light and darkness, sun and moon, the terrors of the
thunderstorm, and of pain, disease and death, together with his
own dreams and imaginations--contributed to evoke the wonder and
superstition of early man. But investigation of early religion shows it
often nucleated around the phenomena of generation. The first and final
problem of religion concerns the production of things. Man's own body
was always nearer to him than sun, moon, and stars; and early man,
thinking not in words but in things, had to express the very idea of
creation or production in terms of his own body. It was so in Egypt,
where the symbol, from being the sign of production, became also
the sign of life, and of regeneration and resurrection. It was so in
Babylonia and Assyria, as in ancient Greece and Troy, and is so till
this day in India.
Montaigne says:
"Fifty severall deities were in times past allotted to this office. And
there hath beene a nation found which to allay and coole the lustful
concupiscence of such as came for devotion, kept wenches of purpose in
their temples to be used; for it was a point of religion to deale
with them before one went to prayers. _Nimirum propter continentiam
incontinentia neces-saria est, incendium ignibus extinguitur_: 'Belike
we must be incontinent that we may be continent, burning is quenched by
fire.' In most places of the world that part of our body was deified.
In that same province some flead it to offer, and consecrated a peece
thereof; others offered and consecrated their seed."
It is in India that this early worship maybe best studied at the present
day. The worshippers of Siva identify their great god, Maha Deva, with
the linga, and wear on their left arm a bracelet containing the linga
and yoni. The rival sect of followers of Vishnu have also a phallic
significance in their symbolism. The linga yoni (fig. 1) is indeed one
of the commonest of religious symbols in India. Its use extends from the
Himalayas to Cape Comorin. Major-General Forlong says the ordinary Maha
Deva of Northern India is the simple arrangement shown in fig. 2, in
which we see "what was I suspect the first Delphic tripod supporting a
vase of water over the Linga in Yona. Such may be counted by scores in
a day's march over Northern India, and especially at ghats or river
ferries, or crossings of any streams or roads; for are they not Hermae?"
The Linga Purana tells us that the linga was a pillar of fire in which
Siva was present. This reminds one of Jahveh appearing as a pillar of
cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.
[Illustration: Fig. 1.--The Hindu Maha Deva, or Linga-Yoni]
So astounded have been many writers at the phenomena presented by
phallic worship that they have sought to explain it, not only by the
story of the fall and the belief in original sin, but by the direct
agency of devils.* Yet it may be wrong to associate the origin of
phallic worship with obscenity. Early man was rather unmoral than
immoral. Obliged to think in things, it was to him no perversion to
mentally associate with his own person the awe of the mysterious power
of production. The sense of pleasure and the desire for progeny of
course contributed. The worship was indeed both natural and inevitable
in the evolution of man from savagery. When, however, phallic worship
was established, it naturally led to practices such as those which
Herodotus, Diodorus, and Lucian tell us took place in the Egyptian,
Babylonian, and Syrian religions.
* See Gougenot des Mousseaux's curious work Dieu et les
Dieux, Paris, 1854. When the Luxor monument was erected in
Rome, Pope Sixtus V. deliberately exorcised the devils out
of possession of it.
[Illustration: Fig. 2.--Rural Hindu Lingam.]
Hume's observation that polytheism invariably preceded monotheism has
been confirmed by all subsequent investigation. The belief in one god or
supreme spirit springs out of the belief in many gods or spirits. That
this was so with the Jews there is sufficient evidence in the Bible,
despite the fact that the documents so called have been frequently
"redacted," that is corrected, and the evidence in large part erased.
An instance of this falsification may be found in Judges xviii. 30 (see
Revised Version), where "Manasseh" has been piously substituted for
Moses, in order to conceal the fact that the direct descendants of Moses
were image worshippers down till the time of the captivity. The Rabbis
gave what Milton calls "this insulse rule out of their Talmud; 'That all
words, which in the Law are written obscenely, must be changed to more
civil words.' Fools who would teach men to read more decently than God
thought good to write."* Instances of euphemisms may be traced in the
case of the "feet" (Judges iii. 24, Song v. 3, Isaiah vii* 20); "thigh"
(Num. v. 24); "heel" (Gen, iii. 15); "heels" (Jer. xiii. 22); and "hand"
(Isaiah lvii. 7). This last verse is translated by Dr. Cheyne, "and
behind the door and the post hast thou placed thy memorial, for apart
from me thou hast uncovered and gone up; thou hast enlarged thy bed, and
obtained a contract from them (?); thou hast loved their bed; thou hast
beheld the phallus." In his note Dr. Cheyne gives the view of the Targum
and Jerome "that'memorial' = idol (or rather idolatrous symbol--the
phallus)."
* "Apology for Smectymnus," Works, p.84.
The priests, whose policy it was to keep the nation isolated, did their
best to destroy the evidence that the Jews shared in the idolatrous
beliefs and practices of the nations around them. In particular the cult
of Baal and Asherah, which we shall see was a form of phallic worship,
became obnoxious, and the evidence of its existence was sought to be
obliterated. The worship, moreover, became an esoteric one, known only
to the priestly caste, as it still is among Roman Catholic initiates,
and the priestly caste were naturally desirous that the ordinary
worshipper should not become "as one of us."
It is unquestionable that in the earliest times the Hebrews worshipped
Baal. In proof there is the direct assertion of Jahveh himself (Hosea
ii. 16) that "thou shalt call me _Ishi_ [my husband] and shalt call
me no more _Baali_." The evidence of names, too, is decisive. Gideon's
other name, Jerubbaal (Jud. vi. 32, and 1 Sam. xii. 11), was
evidently the true one, for in 2 Sam. xi. 21, the name Jerubbesheth is
substituted. Eshbaal (1 Chron. viii. 33) is called Ishbosheth (2 Sam.
ii. 8, 10). Meribbaal (1 Chron. viii. 34) is Mephibosheth (2 Sam. iv.
4).* Now _bosheth_ means v "shame," or "shameful thing," and as Dr.
Donaldson points out, in especial, "sexual shame," as in Gen. ii. 25.
In the Septuagint version of 1 Kings xviii. 25, the prophets of Baal
are called "the prophets of that shame." Hosea ix. 10 says "they went
to Baal-peor and consecrated themselves to Bosheth and became abominable
like that they loved." Micah i. 11 "having thy Bosheth naked." Jeremiah
xi. 5, "For according to the number of thy cities were thy gods, O
Judah; and according to the number of the streets of Jerusalem have ye
set up altars to Bosheth, altars to burn incense unto Baal."
* So Baaljadah [1 Chron. xiv. 7] is Eliada [2 Sam. v. 161.]
In 1 Chron. xii. 6, we have the curious combination,
Baaljah, i.e. Baal is Jah, as the name of one of David's
heroes.
The place where the ark stood, known afterwards as Kirjath-jearim, was
formerly named Baalah, or place of Baal (I Chron. xiii. 6). The change
of name took place after David's time, since the writer of 2 Sam. vi. 2
says merely that David went with the ark from "Baale of Judah."* Colenso
notices that when the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal are said
to have been destroyed by Elijah, nothing is said of the four hundred
prophets of the Asherah. "Also these same '400 prophets,' apparently,
are called together by Ahab as prophets of JHVH, and they reply in the
name of JHVH, 1 Kings xxii. 5-6."
That phallicism was an important element in Baal and Asherah worship is
well known to scholars, and will be made clear to discerning readers.
The frequent allusion to "groves" in the Authorised Version must have
puzzled many a simple student. The natural but erroneous suggestion of
"tree worship" does not fit in very well with the important statement (2
Kings xxiii. 6) that Josiah "brought out the grove from the house of
the Lord."** A reference to the Revised Version will show that this
misleading word is intended to conceal the real nature of the worship of
Asherah. The door of life, the conventional form of the Asherah with its
thirteen flowers or measurements of time, is given in fig. 3.
* The "Baal" was afterwards taken out of all such names of
places, and instead of Baal Peor, Baal Meon, Baal Tamar,
Baal Shalisha, etc., we find Beth Peor, Beth Meon, Beth
Tamar, etc.
** Verse vii. says, "he brake down the houses of the
sodomites that were by the house of the Lord, where the
women wove hangings for the grove." A reference to the Revised
Version shows that it was "in the house of the Lord, where
the women wove hangings [or tents] for the Asherah." See
also Ezek. xvi. 16.
This worship certainly lasted from the earliest historic times until
the seventeenth year of Josiah, B.C. 624. We read how in the days of the
Judges they "served Baalim and the groves" (R.V., "the Asheroth"; Judges
iii, 7; see ii. 12, "Baal and Ash-taroth.) We find that Solomon himself
"went after Ashtoreth (1 Kings xi. 5) and that he builded the mount of
corruption (margin, i.e., the mount of Olives) for that "abomination
of the Zidonians" (2 Kings xxiii. 13). All the distinctive features
of Solomon's Temple were Phoenician in character. What the Phoenician
temples were like Lucian tells us in his treatise on the goddess
of Syria. The great pillars Jachin, "the establisher," and Boaz,
"strength"; the ornamentation of palm trees, pomegranates, and lotus
work; are all Phoenician and all phallic. The bells and pomegranates
on the priests' garment were emblematic of the paps and full womb.
The palm-tree, which appears both in Solomon's temple and in Ezekiel's
vision, was symbolical, as may be seen in the Assyrian monument (fig.
4), and which finds a place in Eastern Christian symbolism, with the
mystic alpha and omega (fig. 5).
The worship of Astoreth, the Assyrian Ishtar, and Greek Astarte, was
widespread. The Phoenicians took it with them to Cyprus and Carthage. In
the days of Abraham there was a town called after her (Gen. xiv. 5), and
to this day her name is preserved in Esther.
[Illustration: Fig. 3.--Asherah.]
It is she who is called the Queen of Heaven, to whom the women made
moon-shaped cakes and poured libations (Jer. vii. 18, xliv. 17.) Baal
represented the generative, Astoreth the productive power. The pillars
and asherah, so often alluded to in the Bible, were the palm-tree, with
male and female animals frolicking around the tree of life, the female
near the fleur de lis and the male near the yoni. Tall and straight
trees, especially the palm, were reverenced as symbols. Palm branches
carried in procession were signs of fruitfulness and joy.
[Illustration: Fig. 4.--From Layard, Culte de Venus, plate I, fig. 20,
depicts the mystic signs of their worship, and Dr. Oort* says of the
name Ashera, "This word expressed originally a pillar on, or near--not
only the altars of Baal--but also the altars of JHVH."]
Bishop Colenso in his notes to Dr. Oort's work remarks, "It seems plain
that the Ashera (from _ashar_, be straight, erect) was in reality a
phallus, like the _Linga_ or _Lingam_ of the Hindoos, the sign of the
male organ of generation."**
* The Worship of Baalim and Israel, p. 46.
** Asher was the tutelary god of Assyria. His emblem was the
winged circle.
[Illustration: Fig. 5.--The Eastern Christian palm, on which is placed
the cross and banners with the Alpha and Omega.]
There can be little doubt on the matter in the mind of anyone acquainted
with ancient faiths and the inevitable phases of human evolution, We
read (1 Kings xv. 13, Revised Version), that Maachah, the queen mother
of Asa, "made an abominable image for an Asherah." This the Vulgate
translates "Priape" and Movers _pudendum_. Jeremiah, who alludes to the
same thing (x. 5), tells that the people said, "to a stock, Thou art my
father, and to a stone, Thou hast brought me forth" (ii. 27), that they
"defiled the land and committed adultery with stones and with stocks"
(iii. 9), playing the harlot "under every green tree" (ii. 20, iii. 6,
13; see also Hosea iv. 13). Isaiah xvii. 8, alludes to the Asherim as
existing in his own days, and alludes to these religions in plain terms
(lvii. 5--8). Micah also prophesies against the "pillars" and "Asherim"
(v. 13, 14). Ezekiel xvi. 17, says "Thou hast also taken thy fair
jewels, of my gold and of silver, which I have given thee, and madest to
thyself images of men, and didst commit whoredom with them." The margin
more properly reads images "Heb. of a male" [tsalmi zachar], a male
here being an euphemism. As Gesenius says of the metaphor in Numbers
xxiv. 7 these things are "ex nostra sensu obscoena, sed Orientalibus
familiaria."
These images are alluded to and prohibited in Deut. iv. 16. It is thus
evident that some form of phallic worship lasted among the Jews-from the
earliest times until their captivity in Babylon.
It is a most significant fact that the Jews used one and the same word
to signify both "harlot" and "holy." "There shall be no _kedeshah_ of
the daughters of Israel" (Deut. xxiii. 17) means no female consecrated
to the temple worship. Kuenen says "it is natural to assume that this
impurity was practised in the worship of Jahveh, however much soever the
lawgiver abhors it." It must be noticed, too, that there is no absolute
prohibition. It only insists that the slaves of desire shall not be of
the house of Israel, and stipulates that the money so obtained shall
not be dedicated to Jahveh. That this was the custom both in Samaria and
Jerusalem, as in Babylon, may be gathered from Micah i. 7, and Hosea iv.
14.
Dr. Kalisch, by birth a Jew and one of the most fair-minded of biblical
scholars, says in his note on Leviticus xix. 29: "The unchaste worship
of Ashtarte, known also as Beltis and Tanais, Ishtar, Mylitta, and
Anaitis, Asherah and Ashtaroth, flourished among the Hebrews at
all times, both in the kingdom of Judah and Israel; it consisted in
presenting to the goddess, who was revered as the female principle
of conception and birth, the virginity of maidens as a first-fruit
offering; and it was associated with the utmost licentiousness.
This-degrading service took such deep root, that in the Assyrian period
it was even extended by the adoption of new rites borrowed from Eastern
Asia, and described by the name of 'Tents of the Maidens' (Succoth
Benoth); and it left its mark in the Hebrew language itself, which
ordinarily expressed the notion courtesan by 'a consecrated woman'
(Kadeshah), and that of sodomite by 'consecrated man' (Kadesh)."
The Succoth Benoth in 2 Kings xvii. 30, may be freely rendered
Tabernacles of Venus. Venus is plausibly derived from Benoth, whose
worship was at an early time disseminated from Carthage and other parts
of Africa to the shores of Italy. The merriest festival among the Jews
was the Feast of Tabernacles. Plutarch (who suggests that the pig was
originally worshipped by the Jews, a position endorsed by Mr. J. G.
Frazer, in his _Golden Bough_, vol. ii., pp. 52, 53) says the Jewish
feast of Tabernacles "is exactly agreeable to the holy rites of
Bacchus."* He adds, "What they do within I know not, but it is very
probable that they perform the rites of Bacchus."
* Symposiacs, bk. iv., queat. 6, p. 310, vol. iii.,
Plutarch's Morals, 1870.
Dr. Adam Clarke, in his Commentary on 2 Kings xvii. 30, gives the
following:--"Succoth-benoth maybe literally translated, _The Tabernacle
of the Daughters, or Young Women_; or if _Benoth_ be taken as the name
of a female idol, from birth, _to build up, procreate, children_, then
the words will express the tabernacles sacred to the productive powers
feminine. And, agreeably to this latter exposition, the rabbins say that
the emblem was a hen and chickens. But however this may be, there is
no room to doubt that these _succoth_ were _tabernacles_, wherein young
women exposed themselves to prostitution in honor of the Babylon goddess
Melitta." Herodotus (lib. i., c. 199; Rawlinson) says: "Every woman born
in the country must once in her life go and sit down in the precinct of
Venus, and there consort with a stranger. Many of the wealthier sort,
who are too proud to mix with the others, drive in covered carriages to
the precinct, followed by a goodly train of attendants, and there take
their station. But the larger number seat themselves within the holy
enclosure with wreaths of string about their heads; and here there is
always a great crowd, some coming and others going; lines of cord mark
out paths in all directions among the women, and the strangers pass
along them to make their choice. A woman who has once taken her seat
is not allowed to return home till one of the strangers throws a silver
coin into her lap, and takes her with him beyond the holy ground. When
he throws the coin he says these words--'The goddess Mylitta prosper
thee" (Venus is called Mylitta by the Assyrians). The silver coin may
be of any size; it cannot be refused, for that is forbidden by the law,
since once thrown it is sacred. The woman goes with the first man who
throws her money, and rejects no one. When she has gone with him, and
so satisfied the goddess, she returns home, and from that time forth
no gift, however great, will prevail with her. Such of the women as are
tall and beautiful are soon released, but others who are ugly have to
stay a long time before they can fulfil the law. Some have waited three
or four years in the precinct. A custom very much like this is also
found in certain parts of the island of Cyprus." This custom is alluded
to in the Apocryphal Epistle of Jeremy (Barch vi. 43): "The women also
with cords about them sitting in the ways, burnt bran for perfume;
but if any of them, drawn by some that passeth by, lie with him, she
reproacheth her fellow, that she was not thought as worthy as herself,
nor her cord broken." The Commentary published by the S. P. C. K. says,
"Women with cords about them," the token that they were devotees
of Mylitta, the Babylonian Venus, called in 2 Kings xvii. 30,
'Succoth-benoth,' the ropes denoting the obligation of the vow which
they had taken upon themselves." Valerius Maximus speaks of a temple
of Sicca Venus in Africa, where a similar custom obtained. Strabo also
mentions the custom (lib. xvi., c. i., 20), and says, "The money is
considered as consecrated to Venus." In book xi., c. xiv., 16, Strabo
says the Armenians pay particular reverence to Anaites. "They dedicate
there to her service male and female slaves; in this there is nothing
remarkable, but it is surprising that persons of the highest rank in the
nation consecrate their virgin daughters to the goddess. It is customary
for these women, after being prostituted a long period at the temple of
Anaites, to be disposed of in marriage, no one disdaining a connection
with such persons. Herodotus mentions something similar respecting the
Lydian women, all of whom prostitute themselves." Of the temple of Venus
at Corinth, Strabo says "it had more than a thousand women consecrated
to the service of the goddess, courtesans, whom men and women had
dedicated as offerings to the goddess"; and of Comana, in Cappadocia, he
has a similar relation (bk. xii., c. iii., 36).
Dr. Kalisch also says Baal Peor "was probably the principle of
generation _par excellence_, and at his festivals virgins were
accustomed to yield themselves in his honor. To this disgraceful
idolatry the Hebrews were addicted from very early times; they are
related to have already been smitten on account of it by a fearful
plague which destroyed 24,000 worshippers, and they seem to have clung
to its shameful practices in later periods."* Jerome says plainly that
Baal-Peor was Priapus, which some derive from Peor Apis. Hosea says (ix.
10, Revised Version) "they came to Baal-Peor and consecrated themselves
unto the shameful thing, and became abominable like that which they
loved"; see, too, Num. xxvi. 1, 3. Amos (ii. 7,8) says a son and a
father go in unto the same maid in the house of God to profane Jahveh's
holy name, so that it appears this "maid" was regarded as in the service
of Jahveh. Maimonides says it was known that the worship of Baal-Peor
was by uncovering of the nakedness; and this he makes the reason why God
commanded the priests to make themselves breeches to wear at the time of
service, and why they might not go up to the altar by steps that their
nakedness might not be discovered.** Jules Soury says*** "The tents of
the sacred prostitutes were generally erected on the high places."
* Leviticus, p. 364.
** That even more shameful practices were once common is
evident from the narratives in Genesis xix. and Judges xix.
*** Religion of Israel chap. ix., p. 71.
**** Leviticus, part i., p. 383. Kork, Die Gotter Syrian, p.
103, says the pillars and Asherah stood in the adytum, that
is the holy of holies, which represented the genetrix.
In the temple at Jerusalem the women wove hangings for the Asherah (2
Kings xxiii. 7), that is for concealment in the worship of the genetrix,
and in the same precincts were the houses of prostitute priests (see
also 1 Kings xiv. 24; xv. 12; xxii. 46. Luther translates "_Hurer_").
Although Josiah destroyed these, B.C. 624, Kalisch says "The image of
Ashtarte was probably erected again in the inner court (Jer. xxxii. 34;
Ezek. viii. 6)." Ezekiel says (xvi. 16), "And of thy garments thou didst
take, and deckedst thy high places with divers colors and playedst
the harlot thereupon," and (v. 24) "Thou hast also built unto thee an
eminent place, and hast made thee a high place in every street," which
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MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES
OF THE
RUSSIANS, WESTERN SLAVS, AND
MAGYARS
By JEREMIAH CURTIN
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1890
_Copyright, 1890_
By Jeremiah Curtin
University Press
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge
To FRANCIS JAMES CHILD, PH.D., LL.D.
_Professor of English in Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass._
My dear Professor Child,--
It is more than a quarter of a century since you began for Harvard
that collection of myths, folk-tales, and ballads, in all European
languages, which has grown under your hand to such proportions that it
is now, perhaps, the most complete of its kind in either hemisphere.
This work was begun by you through a clear perception of what was
needed for laborers in a most important field of inquiry, and achieved
by tireless and patient care in seeking and finding.
Your labors as a scholar are honored abroad as at home, and your work
on English and Scottish ballads will endure as a monument of skill and
devotion.
During your career as Professor you have been true to the ideals of
Harvard scholarship and life, adding to them meanwhile something of
your own.
Whoso adds to or freshens the spirit of our revered Alma Mater
deserves well of the country; for Harvard, now in the second half of
the third century of her existence, is the oldest witness and, so far,
the most eloquent that we have to the collective and continuous
striving of Americans towards a higher life.
To you,--the distinguished Professor, the earnest scholar, the
faithful friend,--I, one of thousands who have listened to your
instruction, dedicate this volume, gathered from a field in which you
take so much delight.
Jeremiah Curtin.
Smithsonian Institution,
Bureau of Ethnology.
Washington D. C. October 23, 1890.
CONTENTS.
Page
Introduction vii
RUSSIAN MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES.
The Three Kingdoms,--The Copper, the Silver, and
the Golden 1
Ivan Tsarevich, The Fire-Bird, and the Gray Wolf 20
Ivan the Peasant's Son and the Little Man Himself
One-finger Tall, his Mustache Seven Versts in Length 37
The Feather of Bright Finist the Falcon 47
The Pig with Gold Bristles, the Deer with Golden Horns,
and the Golden-Maned Steed with Golden Tail 59
Water of Youth, Water of Life, and Water of Death 72
The Footless and Blind Champions 82
The Three Kingdoms 97
Koshchéi Without-Death 106
Vassilissa Golden Tress, Bareheaded Beauty 124
The Ring with Twelve Screws 137
The Footless and the Blind 149
Koshchéi Without-Death 165
Go to the Verge of Destruction and Bring Back
Shmat-Razum 179
Marya Morevna 203
Variant of the Rescue of Ivan Tsarevich and the
Winning of the Colt 217
Yelena the Wise 218
The Seven Simeons, Full Brothers 228
The Enchanted Princess 238
Vassilissa the Cunning, and the Tsar of the Sea 249
CHEKH MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES.
Boyislav, Youngest of Twelve 273
The Table, the Pack, and the Bag 295
The King of the Toads 311 | 2,186.556924 |
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[Illustration: OCCASIONALLY A DARTING AIRPLANE ATTRACTED HER TO THE
WINDOW.]
Ruth Fielding
In the Red Cross
OR
DOING HER BEST FOR
UNCLE SAM
BY
ALICE B. EMERSON | 2,186.557803 |
2023-11-16 18:53:30.6303920 | 2,454 | 8 |
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Transcriber's Note.
Bold text is indicated with =equals signs=. Italic text is indicated
with _underscores_.
Further transcriber's notes may be found at the end of the book.
QUEENS OF THE
RENAISSANCE
BY
M. BERESFORD RYLEY
WITH TWENTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
_First Published in 1907_
[Illustration: BEATRICE AND LUDOVICO KNEELING
ALTAR-PIECE BY ZENALE]
To B----
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE ix
CATHERINE OF SIENA 1
BEATRICE D'ESTE 53
ANNE OF BRITTANY 104
LUCREZIA BORGIA 150
MARGARET D'ANGOULÊME 202
RENÉE, DUCHESS OF FERRARA 251
PREFACE
There are no two people who see with the same kind of vision. It is
for this reason that, though twenty lives of the six women chosen for
this book had been written previously, there would still, it seems to
me, be room for a twenty-first. For though the facts might remain
identical, there is no possible reiteration of another mind's exact
outlook. Hence I have not scrupled to add these six character studies
to the many volumes similar in scope and subject.
The book is called "Queens of the Renaissance," but Catherine of Siena
lived before the Renaissance surged into being, and Anne of Brittany,
though her two husbands brought its spirit into France, had not
herself a hint of its lovely, penetrating eagerness. They are included
because they help, nevertheless, to create continuity and coherence of
impression, and the six leading, as they do naturally, one to the
other, convey, in the mass, some co-ordinated notion of the
Renaissance spirit.
The main object, perhaps, in writing at all lies in the intrinsic
interest of any real life lived before us. For every existence is a
_parti pris_ towards existence; every character is a personal opinion
upon the value of character, feeling, virtue, many things. No
personality repeats another, no human drama renews just the same
intricate complications of other dramas. In every life and in every
person there is some element of uniqueness, some touch of speciality.
Because of this even the dullest individuality becomes quickening in
biography. It has, if no more, the pathos of its dulness, the didactic
warnings of its refusals, the surprise of its individualizing
blunders.
All the following lives convey inevitably and unconsciously some
statement concerning the opportunity offered by existence. To one, it
seemed a place for an ecstasy of joy, success, gratification; to
another, a great educational establishment for the soul; to a third,
an admirable groundwork for practical domestic arrangements and
routine; to Renée of Ferrara, a bewildering, weary accumulation of
difficulties and distress; to her more charming relative, an enigma
shadowed always by the still greater and grimmer enigma of mortality.
And lastly, for the strange, elusive Lucrezia, it is difficult to
conceive what it must have meant at all, unless a sequence of
circumstances never, under any conditions, to be dwelt upon in their
annihilating entirety, but just to be taken piecemeal day by day,
reduced and simplified by the littleness of separate hours and
moments.
In a book of this kind, where the intention is mainly concerned with
character, and for which the reading was inevitably full of bypaths
and excursions, a complete bibliography would merely fill many pages,
while seeming to a great extent to touch but remotely upon the ladies
referred to, but among recent authors a deep debt of gratitude for
information received is due to the following: Jacob Burckhardt, Julia
Cartwright, Augusta Drane, Ferdinand Gregorovius, R. Luzio, E. Renier,
E. Rodoconarchi, and J. Addington Symonds.
Finally, in reference to the portraits included in the life of
Beatrice D'Este, a brief statement is necessary. For not only that of
Bianca, wife of Giangaleazzo, but also those of Il Moro's two
mistresses, Cecilia Gallerani and Lucrezia Crivelli, are regrettably
dubious. The picture of Bianca, however, by Ambrogio da Predis, is
more than likely genuinely that of Bianca, though some writers still
regard it as a likeness of Beatrice herself. It is to be wished that
it were; her prettiness then would have been incontestable and
delicious. But in reality there is no hope. One has but to look at the
other known portraits of Beatrice to see that her face was podgy, or
nearly so, and that her charm came entirely and illusively from
personal intelligence. It evaporated the moment one came to fix her
appearance in sculpture or on canvas. Nature had not really done much
for her. There was no outline, no striking feature, no ravishing
freshness of colouring. On a stupid woman Beatrice's face would have
been absolutely ugly. But she, through sheer "aliveness," sheer
buoyant trickery of expression, conveyed in actuality the equivalent
of prettiness. But it was all unconscious conjuring,--in reality
Beatrice was a plain woman, with sufficient delightfulness to seem a
pretty one, while the portrait of Bianca is unmistakably and lovingly
good-looking.
As regards the portraits, again, of Il Moro's two mistresses, Cecilia
Gallerani and Lucrezia Crivelli, there is no absolute certainty. The
portrait facing page 6 in the life of Beatrice has been recently
discovered in the collection of the Right Hon. the Earl of Roden, and
in an article published by the _Burlington Magazine_ it has been
tentatively looked upon as that of Lucrezia Crivelli. This does not,
however, appear probable, because Lucrezia, at the time of Il Moro's
infatuation, was a young girl, and the picture by Ambrogio da Predis
is certainly that of a woman, and a woman, moreover, whose experiences
have brought her perilously near the verge of cynicism.
At the same time, the portrait is not only beyond doubt that of a
woman loved by Il Moro, but was presumably painted while his affection
for her still continued, as not only are the little heart-shaped
ornaments holding together the webs of her net thought to represent Il
Moro's badge of a mulberry-leaf, but painted exquisitely in a space of
⅜ by ⅝ inch upon the plaque at the waistbelt is a Moor's head,
another of Ludovico's badges, while the letters L. O. are placed on
either side of it, and the two Sforza S. S. at the back. A discarded
mistress, if Ambrogio--one of Il Moro's court painters--had painted
her at all, would have had the discretion not to wear symbols
obviously intended only for one beloved at that moment.
There seems--speculatively--every reason to suppose that the picture
represents Cecilia Gallerani, who was already beyond the charm of
youth before Ludovico reluctantly discarded her, and whom he not only
cared for very greatly, but for quite a number of years. Cecilia
Gallerani, besides, to strengthen the supposition, was an
exceptionally intellectual woman, and the portrait in the possession
of the Earl of Roden expresses above everything to an almost
disheartened intelligence. To think deeply while in the position of
_any_ man's mistress must leave embittering traces, and Cecilia became
famous less even for physical attractions than because her mind was so
intensely rich and receptive.
The other two--the pictures of "La Belle Ferronière" and the "Woman
with the Weasel,"--by Leonardo da Vinci, have both a contested
identity. But since the first is now almost universally looked upon as
being the portrait of Lucrezia Crivelli, the second must surely
represent her also. For in both there is the same beautiful oval, the
same youth, the same unfathomable eyes and gentle deceit of
expression. Both, besides, represent to perfection the kind of
beautiful girl likely to have drawn Ludovico into passionate
admiration. He was no longer young when he cared for Lucrezia, and if
Leonardo's paintings are really portraits of her, she was like some
emblematical figure of perfect youthfulness,--unique and unrepeatable.
M. B. R.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
TO FACE PAGE
BEATRICE AND LUDOVICO KNEELING. ALTAR PIECE BY
ZENALE AT BRERA _Frontispiece_
_From a Photograph by Messrs. Anderson_
STATUE IN WOOD OF ST. CATHERINE, BY NEROCCIO LANDI 2
_From a Photograph by Messrs. Lombardi_
ST. CATHERINE'S HOUSE AT SIENA 16
_From a Photograph by Messrs. Lombardi_
CATHERINE PRAYING AT AN EXECUTION. FRESCO BY SODOMA 18
THE BRIDGE AT PAVIA 61
BEATRICE D'ESTE. BUST IN THE LOUVRE 64
_From a Photograph by Messrs. Levy_
PORTRAIT, PROBABLY OF CECILIA GALLERANI, SAID TO BE BY
AMBROGIO DA PREDIS 90
_From the Collection of the Earl of Roden_
LUCREZIA CRIVELLI, BY LEONARDO DA VINCI 96
_From a Photograph by Messrs. Mansell_
PROBABLE PORTRAIT OF BIANCA SFORZA, WIFE OF GALEAZZO
SANSEVERINO 98
_From a Photograph by Messrs. Mansell_
CHURCH OF ST. MARIA DELLE GRAZIE AT MILAN 100
_From a Photograph by Messrs. Brogi_
EFFIGY OF BEATRICE D'ESTE AT SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM 102
FROM THE CALENDRIER, IN ANNE'S BOOK OF HOURS IN THE
BIBLIOTHÈQUE NATIONALE, PARIS 120
_From a Photograph by Messrs. Berthaud_
ANNE KNEELING. FROM THE BOOK OF HOURS IN THE BIB | 2,186.650432 |
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THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS
By Arthur Colton
Charles Scribner's Sons
1901
DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF
MY SISTER, MABEL COLTON
|So they went up to the Mountains, to behold the Gardens, and Orchards,
the Vineyards, and Fountains of water.... Now there was on the tops of
these Mountains, Shepherds feeding their flocks, and they stood by the
high-way side. The Pilgrims therefore went to them, and leaning upon
their staves, (as is common with weary Pilgrims, when they stand to
talk with any by the way,) they asked, Whose delectable Mountains are
these?... When the Shepherds perceived that they were way-faring men,
they also put questions to them, as, Whence came you? and, How got you
into the way? and, By what means have you so persevered therein?... Then
said the Shepherds one to another, Let us here shew to the Pilgrims the
Gates of the Coelestial City, if they have skill to look through our
Perspective Glass.... Then they essayed to look, but... they could not
look steadily through the Glass; yet they thought they saw something
like the Gate.
_The Pilgrim's Progress_.
CONTENTS:
1. The Place of Abandoned Gods
2. The Leather Hermit
3. Black Pond Clearing
4. Joppa
5. The Elders' Seat
6. The Romance of the Institute
7. Nausicaa
8. Sanderson of Back Meadows
9. Two Roads that meet in Salem
10. A Visible Judgment
11. The Emigrant East
12. Tobin's Monument
THE PLACE OF THE ABANDONED GODS
|The hut was built two sides and the roof of sodded poles; the roof
had new clapboards of birch bark, but the rest had once belonged to a
charcoal burner; the front side was partly poled and partly open, the
back was the under-<DW72> of a rock. For it stood by a cliff, one of the
many that show their lonely faces all over the Cattle Ridge, except that
this was more tumultuous than most, and full of caves made by the clumsy
leaning bowlders; and all about were slim young birch trees in white and
green, like the demoiselles at Camelot. Old pines stood above the cliff,
making a soft, sad noise in the wind. In one of the caves above the
leafage of the birches we kept the idols, especially Baal, whom we
thought the most energetic; and in front of the cave was the altar-stone
that served them all, a great flat rock and thick with moss, where ears
of com were sacrificed, or peas or turnips, the first-fruits of the
field; or of course, if you shot a chipmunk or a rabbit, you could
have a burnt offering of that kind. Also the altar-stone was a council
chamber and an outlook.
It was all a secret place on the north side of the Cattle Ridge, with
cliffs above and cliffs below. Eastward half a mile lay the Cattle Ridge
Road, and beyond that the Ridge ran on indefinitely; southward, three
miles down, the road took you into Hagar; westward the Ridge, after all
its leagues of length and rigor of form, broke down hurriedly to the
Wyantenaug River, at a place called the Haunted Water, where stood
the Leather Hermit's hut and beyond which were Bazilloa Armitage's
bottom-lands and the Preston Plains railroad station. The road from
the station across the bridge came through Sanderson Hollow, where the
fields were all over cattle and lively horses, and met the Cattle Ridge
Road to Hagar. And last, if you looked north from the altar-stone, you
saw a long, downward sweep of woodland, and on and on miles and miles to
the meadows and ploughed lands toward Wimberton, with a glimpse of the
Wyantenaug far away to the left. Such were the surroundings of the place
of abandoned gods. No one but ourselves came there, unless possibly the
Hermit. If any one had come it was thought that Baal would pitch him
over the cliffs in some manner, mystically. We got down on our hands and
knees, and said, “O Baal!” He was painted green, on a shingle; but
his eyes were red. The place was reached from the Cattle Ridge Road by
trail, for the old wood-road below was grown up to blackberry brambles,
which made one scratched and bloody and out of patience, unless it were
blackberry time.
And on the bank, where the trail drops into the climbing highway, there
Aaron and Silvia were sitting in the June afternoon, hand in hand, with
the filtered green light of the woods about them. We came up from Hagar,
the three of us, and found them. They were strangers, so far as we knew.
Strangers or townsmen, we never took the trail with any one in sight;
it was an item in the Vows. But we ranged up before them and stared
candidly. There was nothing against that. Her eyes were nice and blue,
and at the time they contained tears. Her cheeks were dimpled and pink,
her brown dress dusty, and her round straw hat cocked a bit over one
tearful blue eye. He seemed like one who had been growing fast of late.
His arms swung loosely as if fastened to his shoulders with strings. The
hand that held her small hand was too large for its wrist, the wrist too
large for the arm, the arm too long for the shoulder. He had the first
growth of a downy mustache, a feeble chin, a humorous eye, and wore a
broad-brimmed straw hat and a faded black coat, loose and flopping to
his knees. A carpet bag lay at his feet, only half full and fallen over
with an air of depression. He seemed depressed in the same way.
“What's she crying for?” asked Moses Durfey, stolidly.
Aaron peered around at her shyly.
“She's scared to go home. I ain't, but I mote be 'fore I got there.”
“What's your name?”
“We-ell--”
He hesitated. Then, with loud defiance:
“It's Mr. and Mrs. Bees.”
A red squirrel clambered down a low-hanging branch overhead, and
chattered sharply, scattering flakes of bark. Aaron, still holding
Silvia's hand, leaned back on the bank and looked up. All lines of
trouble faded quickly from his face. He smiled, so that his two front
teeth stood out startlingly, and held up a long forefinger.
“Cherky little cuss, ain't he?”
The squirrel became more excited. Aaron's finger seemed to draw him
like a loadstone. He slid down nearer and nearer, as far as the branch
allowed, to a foot or two away, chattering his teeth fearfully. We knew
that any one who could magnetize so flighty and malicious a person as a
red squirrel, must be a magician, however simple he might be otherwise.
Aaron snapped his finger and the squirrel fled. “We'd better be movin',
Silvy.”
Silvia's tears flowed the faster, and the lines of trouble returned to
Aaron's face.
“Why don't she want to go home?” persisted Moses, stolidly.
We drew close beside them now and sat on the bank, Moses and I by Aaron,
Chub Leroy by Silvia. Chub was thoughtful. Silvia dried her eyes and
said with a gulp:
“It's pa.”
“That's it.” Aaron nodded and rubbed his sharp nose. “Old man Kincard,
it's him.”
They both looked at us trustfully. Moses saw no light in the matter.
“Who's he?”
“He's my father-in-law. He ain't goin' to like it. He's a sneezer. What
he don't like generally gets out of the way. My snakes! He 'll put Silvy
up the chimney and me in the stove, and he 'll light the fire.”
He chuckled and then relapsed into trouble. His emotions seemed to flit
across his face like sunbeams and shadows on a wall, leaving no trace
behind them, or each wiped out by the next.
“Snakes! We might just as well sit here.”
Silvia wept again. Moses's face admitted a certain surprise.
“What'll he do that for?”
While Aaron told their story, Silvia sometimes commented tearfully
on his left, Moses stolidly on his right, and the red squirrel with
excitement overhead; Chub and I were silent; the woods for the most part
kept still and listened too, with only a little sympathetic murmur of
leaves and tremble of sunbeam and shadow.
The Kincard place, it seemed, lay five miles away, down the north side
till you cleared the woods, and then eastward among the foothills. Old
Kincard's first name was James. And directly across the road stood the
four-roomed house where the Bees family once lived. It was “rickety
now and rented to rats.” The Bees family had always been absent-minded,
given to dying off and leaving things lying around. In that way Aaron
had begun early to be an orphan and to live with the Kincards. He was
supposed to own the old house and the dooryard in front of it, but the
rats never paid their rent, unless they paid it to the old man or the
cat; and Mr. Kincard had a low opinion of Aaron, as being a Bees, and
because he was built lengthwise instead of sidewise and knew more about
foxes than cows. It seemed to Aaron that a fox was in himself a more
interesting person; that this raising more potatoes than you could eat,
more tobacco than you could smoke, this making butter and cheese and
taking them to Wimberton weekly, and buying little except mortgages
and bank accounts, somewhere involved a mistake. A mortgage was an
arrangement by which you established strained relations with a neighbor,
a bank account something that made you suspicious of the bank. Now in
the woods one dealt for direct usefulness, comfort, and freedom of mind.
If a man liked to collect mortgages rather than fox-skins, it was the
virtue of the woods to teach tolerance; but Mr. Kincard's opinion of
Aaron was low and active. There was that difference between a Kincard
and a Bees point of view.
Aaron and Silvia grew up a few years apart on the old spread-out farm,
with the wooded mountainside heaving on the south and stretching east
and west. It was a neighborhood of few neighbors, and no village within
many miles, and the old man was not talkative commonly, though he'd open
up sometimes. Aaron and Silvia had always classed themselves together in
subdued opposition to their grim ruler of destiny. To each other they
called him “the old man,” and expressed by it a reverential but opposed
state of mind. To Aaron the undoubted parts of life were the
mountain-side of his pleasures and the level fields of his toil.
Wimberton was but a troubled glimpse now and then, an improbable memory
of more people and houses than seemed natural. Silvia tended to see
things first through Aaron's eyes, though she kept a basal judgment of
her own in reserve.
“He always licked us together since we was little,” said Aaron, looking
at Silvia with softly reminiscent eye. “It was two licks to me for
Silvy's one. That was square enough, and the old man thought so. When he
got set in a habit he'd never change. It was two to me for Silvy's one.”
Aaron told him, but a week now gone, that himself and Silvia would wish
to be married, and he seemed surprised. In fact he came at Aaron with
the hoe-handle, but could not catch him, any more than a lonesome
rabbit. Then he opened up astonishingly, and told Aaron of his low
opinion of him, which was more spread-out and full of details than you'd
expect. He wasn't going to give Aaron any such “holt on him as that,”
with a guaranty deed, whatever that was, on eternity to loaf in, and he
set him the end of the week to clear out, to go elsewhere forever. To
Aaron's mind that was an absurd proposal. He wasn't going to do any
such foolishness. The rather he sold his collection of skins to a farmer
named Shore, and one morning borrowed a carpet bag and came over the
Cattle Ridge hand in hand with Silvia.
From Preston | 2,186.652421 |
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{93}
NOTES AND QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION FOR LITERARY MEN, ARTISTS, ANTIQUARIES,
GENEALOGISTS, ETC.
"When found, make a note of."--CAPTAIN CUTTLE.
* * * * *
No. 196.]
SATURDAY, JULY 30. 1853..
[Price Fourpence. Stamped Edition 5d.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
NOTES:-- Page
Books chained to Desks in Churches: Font Inscription:
Parochial Libraries, by W. Sparrow Simpson, B.A. 93
Real Signatures _versus_ Pseudo-names, by the Rev.
James Graves 94
Popular Stories of the English Peasantry, by Vincent
T. Sternberg 94
Shakspeare Correspondence, by Cecil Harbottle, &c. 95
Epitaph and Monuments in Wingfield Church, Suffolk 98
Original Royal Letters to the Grand Masters of Malta 99
MINOR NOTES:--Meaning of "Clipper"--Anathema,
Maran-atha--Convocation and the Society for the
Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts--Pigs said
to see the Wind--Anecdote of the Duke of Gloucester 100
QUERIES:--
Lord William Russell 100
Ancient Furniture--Prie-Dieu 101
MINOR QUERIES:--Reynolds' Nephew--Sir Isaac
Newton--Limerick, Dublin, and Cork--Praying to the
West--Mulciber--Captain Booth of Stockport--"A saint
in crape"--French Abbes--What Day is it at our
Antipodes?--"Spendthrift"--Second Growth of Grass--
The Laird of Brodie--Mrs. Tighe, Author of "Psyche"--
Bishop Ferrar--Sir Thomas de Longueville--Quotations
wanted--Symon Patrick, Bishop of Ely: Durham: Weston:
Jephson--The Heveninghams of Suffolk and Norfolk--
Lady Percy, Wife of Hotspur (Daughter of Edmund
Mortimer, Earl of March)--Shape of Coffins--St. George
Family Pictures--Caley (John), "Ecclesiastical Survey
of the Possessions, &c. of the Bishop of St. David's,"
&c.--Adamson's "Lusitania Illustrata"--Blotting-paper--
Poetical Versions of the Fragments in Athenaeus 102
REPLIES:--
Robert Drury 104
The Termination -by 105
The Rosicrucians, by William Bates 106
Inscriptions on Bells, by W. Sparrow Simpson, B.A. 108
Was Cook the Discoverer of the Sandwich Islands? by
C. E. Bagot 108
Megatherium Americanum, by W. Pinkerton 109
Photographic Correspondence:--Stereoscopic
Angles--Yellow Bottles for Photographic Chemicals 109
REPLIES TO MINOR QUERIES:--Earth upon Earth,
&c.--Picalyly--Mr. Justice Newton--Manners of the
Irish--Arms of the See of York--"Up, Guards, and at
'em!"--Coleridge's Christabel: the 3rd Part--Mitigation
of Capital Punishment--The Man with the Iron Mask--
Gentleman executed for Murder of a Slave--Jahn's
Jahrbuch--Character of the Song of the Nightingale,
&c. 110
MISCELLANEOUS:--
Books and Odd Volumes wanted 114
Notices to Correspondents 114
Advertisements 115
* * * * *
Notes.
BOOKS CHAINED TO DESKS IN CHURCHES: FONT INSCRIPTION: PAROCHIAL LIBRARIES.
It would be interesting to have a complete list of the various books still
to be found chained to desks in our ancient churches. The "Bible of the
largest volume," the "Books of Homilies allowed by authority," and the Book
of Common Prayer, are ordered by Canon 80. to be provided for every church.
In some places this regulation is still complied with: at Oakington,
Cambridgeshire, a copy of a recent (1825) edition of the Homilies lies on a
small desk in the nave. But besides these authoritative works, other books
are found _chained_ to their ancient desks: at Impington, Cambridgeshire
are, or were, "three black-letter volumes of Fox's _Martyrs_ chained to a
stall in the chancel." (Paley's _Ecclesiologist's Guide, &c._) At St.
Nicholas, Rochester, chained to a small bracket desk at the south side of
the west door, is a copy of _A Collection of Cases and other Discourses to
recover Dissenters to the Church of England_, small 8vo., 1718. The
_Paraphrase_ of Erasmus may probably be added to the list (see Professor
Blunt's _Sketch of the History of the Reformation_, 10th edit., p. 130.),
though I cannot call to mind any church in which a copy of this work may
now be found. In the noble minster church at Wimborne, Dorsetshire, is a
rather large collection of books, comprising some old and valuable
editions: all these books were, and many still are, chained to their
shelves; an iron rod runs along the front of each shelf, on which rings
attached to the chains fastened to the covers of the works have free play;
these volumes are preserved in an upper chamber on the south side of the
chancel. The parochial library at St. Margaret's, Lynn, Norfolk, is one of
considerable interest and importance; amongst other treasures are a curious
little manuscript of the New Testament very neatly written, a (mutilated)
black-letter copy of the _Sarum Missal_, and many fine copies of the works
of the Fathers, and also of the Reformers; these are preserved in the south
aisle of the chancel, which is fitted up as a library, and are in very good
order. At Margate Church are a few volumes, of what kind my note-book does
{94} not inform me. I may also mention, in connexion with St. Nicholas,
Rochester, that the font is octagonal, and inscribed with the following
capital letters, the first surmounted by a crown:
C. R. I. *. *. *. A. N.
The large panel on each side contains one of the letters; the font is
placed close to the wall, so that the remaining letters, indicated by
asterisks, cannot now be read: the sexton said that the whole word was
supposed to be "Christian," or rather "Cristian." Beside the font is a very
quaint iron bracket-stand, painted blue and gold, "constructed to carry"
two candles.
W. SPARROW SIMPSON.
P. S.--Permit me to correct an error of the press in my communication at p.
8. of your present volume, col. 1. l. 10. from bottom; for "worn," read
"won."
* * * * *
REAL SIGNATURES VERSUS PSEUDO-NAMES.
It is pleasant to see so many of the correspondents of "N. & Q." joining in
the remonstrance against the anonymous system. Were one to set about
accumulating the reasons for the abandonment of pseudo-names and initials,
many of the valuable columns of this periodical might be easily filled;
such an essay it is not, however, my intention to inflict on its readers,
who by a little thought can easily do for themselves more than a large
effusion of ink on the part of any correspondent could effect. I shall
content myself with recounting the good which, in one instance, has
resulted from a knowledge of the real name and address of a contributor.
The REV. H. T. ELLACOMBE (one of the first to raise his voice against the
use of pseudo-names) having observed in "N. & Q." many communications
evincing no ordinary acquaintance with the national Records of Ireland, and
wishing to enter into direct communication with the writer (who merely
signed himself J. F. F.), put a Query in the "Notices to Correspondents,"
begging J. F. F. to communicate his real name and address. There in all
probability the matter would have ended, as J. F. F. did not happen to take
"N. & Q.," but that the writer of these lines chanced to be aware, that
under the above given initials lurked the name of the worthy, the
courteous, the erudite, and, yet more strange still, the _unpaid_ guardian
of the Irish Exchequer Records--James Frederick Ferguson,--a name which
many a student of Irish history will recognise with warm gratitude and
unfeigned respect. Now it had so happened that by a strange fortune MR.
ELLACOMBE was the repository of information as to the whereabouts of
certain of the ancient Records of Ireland (see MR. ELLACOMBE'S notice of
the matter, Vol. viii., p. 5.), abstracted at some former period from the
"legal custody" of some heedless keeper, and sold by a Jew to a German
gentleman, and the result of his communicating this knowledge to Mr.
Ferguson, has been the latter gentleman's "chivalrous" and successful
expedition for their recovery. The _English Quarterly Review_ (not
_Magazine_, as MR. ELLACOMBE inadvertently writes), in a forthcoming
article on the Records of Ireland, will, it is to be hoped, give the full
details of this exciting record hunt, and thus exemplify the _great
utility_, not to speak of the _manliness_, of real names and addresses,
_versus_ false names and equally Will-o'-the-Wisp initials.
JAMES GRAVES.
Kilkenny.
* * * * *
POPULAR STORIES OF THE ENGLISH PEASANTRY.
(Vol. v., p. 363. &c.)
Will you allow me, through the medium of "N. & Q.," to say how much obliged
I should be for any communications on this subject. Since I last addressed
you (about a year ago) I have received many interesting contributions
towards my proposed collection; but not, I regret to say, quite to the
extent I had anticipated. My own researches have been principally confined
to the midland counties, and I have very little from the north or east.
Such a large field requires many gleaners, and I hope your correspondents
learned in Folklore will not be backward in lending their aid to complete a
work which Scott, Southey, and a host of illustrious names, have considered
a desideratum in our national antiquities.
I propose to divide the tales into three classes--Mythological, Humorous,
and Nurse-tales. Of the mythological I have already given several specimens
in your journal, but I will give the following, as it illustrates another
link in the transmission of MR. KEIGHTLEY'S Hindustani legend, which
appeared in a recent Number. It is from Northamptonshire.
_The Bogie and the Farmer._
Once upon a time a Bogie asserted a claim to a field which had been
hitherto in the possession of a farmer; and after a great deal of
disputing, they came to an arrangement by agreeing to divide its produce
between them. At seed time, the farmer asks the Bogie what part of the crop
he will have, "tops or bottoms." "Bottoms," said the spirit: upon which the
crafty farmer sows the field with wheat, so that when harvest arrives the
corn falls to his share, while the poor Bogie is obliged to content himself
with the stubble. Next year the spirit, finding he had made such an
unfortunate selection in the bottoms, chose the tops; whereupon cunning
Hodge set the field with turnips, thus again outwitting the simple {95}
claimant. Tired of this unprofitable farming, the Bogie agrees to hazard
his claims on a mowing-match, thinking that his supernatural strength would
give him an easy victory; but before the day of meeting, the cunning
earth-tiller procures a number of iron bars which he stows among the grass
to be mown by his opponent; and when the trial commences, the unsuspecting
goblin finds his progress retarded by his scythe coming into contact with
these obstacles, which he takes to be some very hard--very hard--species of
dock. "Mortal hard docks, these," said he; "Nation hard docks!" His blunted
scythe soon brings him to a stand still, and as, in such cases, it is not
allowed for one to sharpen without the other, he turns to his antagonist,
now far ahead, and inquires, in a tone of despair, "When d'ye wiffle-waffle
(whet), mate?" "Waffle!" said the farmer, with a well-feigned stare of
amazement, "O, about noon mebby." "Then," said the despairing spirit, "That
thief of a Christian has done me;" and so saying, he disappeared and was
never heard of more.
Under _Nurse-tales_, I include the extremely puerile stories of the
nursery, often (as in the German ones) interlaced with rhymes. The
following, from the banks of the Avon, sounds like an echo from a German
story-book.
_Little Elly._
In the old time, a certain good king laid all the ghosts, and hanged all
the witches and wizards save one, who fell into a bad way, and kept a
school in a small village. One day Little Elly looked through a chink-hole,
and saw him eating man's flesh and drinking man's blood; but Little Elly
kept it all to herself, and went to school as before. And when school was
over the Ogee fixed his eyes upon her, and said--
"All go home but Elly,
And Elly come to me."
And when they were gone he said, "What did you see me eat, Elly?"
"O something did I see,
But nothing will I tell,
Unto my dying day."
And so he pulled off her shoes, and whipped her till she bled (this
repeated three days); and the third day he took her up, and put her into a
rose-bush, where the rain rained, and the snow snowed, and the hail hailed,
and the wind blew upon her all night. Quickly her tiny spirit crept out of
her tiny body and hovered round the bed of her parents, where it sung in
mournful voice for evermore--
"Dark, weary, and cold am I,
Little knoweth Gammie where am I."
Of the Humorous stories I have already given a specimen in Vol. v., p. 363.
Any notes of legends, or suggestions of any kind, forwarded to my address
as below, will be thankfully received and acknowledged.
VINCENT T. STERNBERG.
15. Store Street, Bedford Square.
* * * * *
SHAKSPEARE CORRESPONDENCE.
_The old Corrector on "The Winter's Tale."_--I am glad to find that you
have another correspondent, and a very able one too, under the signature of
A. E. B., who takes the same view of "Aristotle's checks" as I have done;
though I think he might have paid me the compliment of _just_ noticing my
prior remonstrance on this subject. It is to be lamented, that MR. COLLIER
should have hurried out his new edition of Shakspeare, adopting all the
sweeping | 2,186.653223 |
2023-11-16 18:53:30.7287500 | 80 | 15 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
BLACK IS WHITE
By George Barr Mccutcheon
Author Of “Graustark,” “Brewster's Millions,” “Truxton King,” “Rose In
The Ring,” “Mary Midthorne,” Etc.
London
Everett & Co., Ltd.
1915
| 2,186.74879 |
2023-11-16 18:53:30.7306470 | 5,516 | 55 |
Produced by David Widger
GALSWORTHY PLAYS
SECOND SERIES--NO. 1
THE ELDEST SON
By John Galsworthy
PERSONS OF THE PLAY
SIR WILLIAM CHESHIRE, a baronet
LADY CHESHIRE, his wife
BILL, their eldest son
HAROLD, their second son
RONALD KEITH(in the Lancers), their son-in-law
CHRISTINE (his wife), their eldest daughter
DOT, their second daughter
JOAN, their third daughter
MABEL LANFARNE, their guest
THE REVEREND JOHN LATTER, engaged to Joan
OLD STUDDENHAM, the head-keeper
FREDA STUDDENHAM, the lady's-maid
YOUNG DUNNING, the under-keeper
ROSE TAYLOR, a village girl
JACKSON, the butler
CHARLES, a footman
TIME: The present. The action passes on December 7 and 8 at the
Cheshires' country house, in one of the shires.
ACT I SCENE I. The hall; before dinner.
SCENE II. The hall; after dinner.
ACT II. Lady Cheshire's morning room; after breakfast.
ACT III. The smoking-room; tea-time.
A night elapses between Acts I. and II.
ACT I
SCENE I
The scene is a well-lighted, and large, oak-panelled hall, with
an air of being lived in, and a broad, oak staircase. The
dining-room, drawing-room, billiard-room, all open into it; and
under the staircase a door leads to the servants' quarters. In
a huge fireplace a log fire is burning. There are tiger-skins
on the floor, horns on the walls; and a writing-table against
the wall opposite the fireplace. FREDA STUDDENHAM, a pretty,
pale girl with dark eyes, in the black dress of a lady's-maid,
is standing at the foot of the staircase with a bunch of white
roses in one hand, and a bunch of yellow roses in the other. A
door closes above, and SIR WILLIAM CHESHIRE, in evening dress,
comes downstairs. He is perhaps fifty-eight, of strong build,
rather bull-necked, with grey eyes, and a well-<DW52> face,
whose choleric autocracy is veiled by a thin urbanity. He
speaks before he reaches the bottom.
SIR WILLIAM. Well, Freda! Nice roses. Who are they for?
FREDA. My lady told me to give the yellow to Mrs. Keith, Sir
William, and the white to Miss Lanfarne, for their first evening.
SIR WILLIAM. Capital. [Passing on towards the drawing-room] Your
father coming up to-night?
FREDA. Yes.
SIR WILLIAM. Be good enough to tell him I specially want to see him
here after dinner, will you?
FREDA. Yes, Sir William.
SIR WILLIAM. By the way, just ask him to bring the game-book in, if
he's got it.
He goes out into the drawing-room; and FREDA stands restlessly
tapping her foot against the bottom stair. With a flutter of
skirts CHRISTINE KEITH comes rapidly down. She is a
nice-looking, fresh- young woman in a low-necked dress.
CHRISTINE. Hullo, Freda! How are YOU?
FREDA. Quite well, thank you, Miss Christine--Mrs. Keith, I mean.
My lady told me to give you these.
CHRISTINE. [Taking the roses] Oh! Thanks! How sweet of mother!
FREDA. [In a quick, toneless voice] The others are for Miss Lanfarne.
My lady thought white would suit her better.
CHRISTINE. They suit you in that black dress.
[FREDA lowers the roses quickly.]
What do you think of Joan's engagement?
FREDA. It's very nice for her.
CHRISTINE. I say, Freda, have they been going hard at rehearsals?
FREDA. Every day. Miss Dot gets very cross, stage-managing.
CHRISTINE. I do hate learning a part. Thanks awfully for unpacking.
Any news?
FREDA. [In the same quick, dull voice] The under-keeper, Dunning,
won't marry Rose Taylor, after all.
CHRISTINE. What a shame! But I say that's serious. I thought there
was--she was--I mean----
FREDA. He's taken up with another girl, they say.
CHRISTINE. Too bad! [Pinning the roses] D'you know if Mr. Bill's
come?
FREDA. [With a swift upward look] Yes, by the six-forty.
RONALD KEITH comes slowly down, a weathered firm-lipped man, in
evening dress, with eyelids half drawn over his keen eyes, and
the air of a horseman.
KEITH. Hallo! Roses in December. I say, Freda, your father missed
a wigging this morning when they drew blank at Warnham's spinney.
Where's that litter of little foxes?
FREDA. [Smiling faintly] I expect father knows, Captain Keith.
KEITH. You bet he does. Emigration? Or thin air? What?
CHRISTINE. Studdenham'd never shoot a fox, Ronny. He's been here
since the flood.
KEITH. There's more ways of killing a cat--eh, Freda?
CHRISTINE. [Moving with her husband towards the drawing-room] Young
Dunning won't marry that girl, Ronny.
KEITH. Phew! Wouldn't be in his shoes, then! Sir William'll never
keep a servant who's made a scandal in the village, old girl. Bill
come?
As they disappear from the hall, JOHN LATTER in a clergyman's
evening dress, comes sedately downstairs, a tall, rather pale
young man, with something in him, as it were, both of heaven,
and a drawing-room. He passes FREDA with a formal little nod.
HAROLD, a fresh-cheeked, cheery-looking youth, comes down, three
steps at a time.
HAROLD. Hallo, Freda! Patience on the monument. Let's have a
sniff! For Miss Lanfarne? Bill come down yet?
FREDA. No, Mr. Harold.
HAROLD crosses the hall, whistling, and follows LATTER into the
drawing-room. There is the sound of a scuffle above, and a
voice crying: "Shut up, Dot!" And JOAN comes down screwing her
head back. She is pretty and small, with large clinging eyes.
JOAN. Am I all right behind, Freda? That beast, Dot!
FREDA. Quite, Miss Joan.
DOT's face, like a full moon, appears over the upper banisters.
She too comes running down, a frank figure, with the face of a
rebel.
DOT. You little being!
JOAN. [Flying towards the drawing-roam, is overtaken at the door]
Oh! Dot! You're pinching!
As they disappear into the drawing-room, MABEL LANFARNE, a tall
girl with a rather charming Irish face, comes slowly down. And
at sight of her FREDA's whole figure becomes set and meaningfull.
FREDA. For you, Miss Lanfarne, from my lady.
MABEL. [In whose speech is a touch of wilful Irishry] How sweet!
[Fastening the roses] And how are you, Freda?
FREDA. Very well, thank you.
MABEL. And your father? Hope he's going to let me come out with the
guns again.
FREDA. [Stolidly] He'll be delighted, I'm sure.
MABEL. Ye-es! I haven't forgotten his face-last time.
FREDA. You stood with Mr. Bill. He's better to stand with than Mr.
Harold, or Captain Keith?
MABEL. He didn't touch a feather, that day.
FREDA. People don't when they're anxious to do their best.
A gong sounds. And MABEL LANFARNE, giving FREDA a rather
inquisitive stare, moves on to the drawing-room. Left alone
without the roses, FREDA still lingers. At the slamming of a
door above, and hasty footsteps, she shrinks back against the
stairs. BILL runs down, and comes on her suddenly. He is a
tall, good-looking edition of his father, with the same stubborn
look of veiled choler.
BILL. Freda! [And as she shrinks still further back] what's the
matter? [Then at some sound he looks round uneasily and draws away
from her] Aren't you glad to see me?
FREDA. I've something to say to you, Mr. Bill. After dinner.
BILL. Mister----?
She passes him, and rushes away upstairs. And BILL, who stands
frowning and looking after her, recovers himself sharply as the
drawing-room door is opened, and SIR WILLIAM and MISS LANFARNE
come forth, followed by KEITH, DOT, HAROLD, CHRISTINE, LATTER,
and JOAN, all leaning across each other, and talking. By
herself, behind them, comes LADY CHESHIRE, a refined-looking
woman of fifty, with silvery dark hair, and an expression at
once gentle, and ironic. They move across the hall towards the
dining-room.
SIR WILLIAM. Ah! Bill.
MABEL. How do you do?
KEITH. How are you, old chap?
DOT. [gloomily] Do you know your part?
HAROLD. Hallo, old man!
CHRISTINE gives her brother a flying kiss. JOAN and LATTER pause and
look at him shyly without speech.
BILL. [Putting his hand on JOAN's shoulder] Good luck, you two!
Well mother?
LADY CHESHIRE. Well, my dear boy! Nice to see you at last. What a
long time!
She draws his arm through hers, and they move towards the
dining-room.
The curtain falls.
The curtain rises again at once.
SCENE II
CHRISTINE, LADY CHESHIRE, DOT, MABEL LANFARNE,
and JOAN, are returning to the hall after dinner.
CHRISTINE. [in a low voice] Mother, is it true about young Dunning
and Rose Taylor?
LADY CHESHIRE. I'm afraid so, dear.
CHRISTINE. But can't they be----
DOT. Ah! ah-h! [CHRISTINE and her mother are silent.] My child, I'm
not the young person.
CHRISTINE. No, of course not--only--[nodding towards JOAN and
Mable].
DOT. Look here! This is just an instance of what I hate.
LADY CHESHIRE. My dear? Another one?
DOT. Yes, mother, and don't you pretend you don't understand,
because you know you do.
CHRISTINE. Instance? Of what?
JOAN and MABEL have ceased talking, and listen, still at the fire.
DOT. Humbug, of course. Why should you want them to marry, if he's
tired of her?
CHRISTINE. [Ironically] Well! If your imagination doesn't carry you
as far as that!
DOT. When people marry, do you believe they ought to be in love with
each other?
CHRISTINE. [With a shrug] That's not the point.
DOT. Oh? Were you in love with Ronny?
CHRISTINE. Don't be idiotic!
DOT. Would you have married him if you hadn't been?
CHRISTINE. Of course not!
JOAN. Dot! You are!----
DOT. Hallo! my little snipe!
LADY CHESHIRE. Dot, dear!
DOT. Don't shut me up, mother! [To JOAN.] Are you in love with
John? [JOAN turns hurriedly to the fire.] Would you be going to
marry him if you were not?
CHRISTINE. You are a brute, Dot.
DOT. Is Mabel in love with--whoever she is in love with?
MABEL. And I wonder who that is.
DOT. Well, would you marry him if you weren't?
MABEL. No, I would not.
DOT. Now, mother; did you love father?
CHRISTINE. Dot, you really are awful.
DOT. [Rueful and detached] Well, it is a bit too thick, perhaps.
JOAN. Dot!
DOT. Well, mother, did you--I mean quite calmly?
LADY CHESHIRE. Yes, dear, quite calmly.
DOT. Would you have married him if you hadn't? [LADY CHESHIRE shakes
her head] Then we're all agreed!
MABEL. Except yourself.
DOT. [Grimly] Even if I loved him, he might think himself lucky if I
married him.
MABEL. Indeed, and I'm not so sure.
DOT. [Making a face at her] What I was going to----
LADY CHESHIRE. But don't you think, dear, you'd better not?
DOT. Well, I won't say what I was going to say, but what I do say
is--Why the devil----
LADY CHESHIRE. Quite so, Dot!
DOT. [A little disconcerted.] If they're tired of each other, they
ought not to marry, and if father's going to make them----
CHRISTINE. You don't understand in the least. It's for the sake of
the----
DOT. Out with it, Old Sweetness! The approaching infant! God bless
it!
There is a sudden silence, for KEITH and LATTER are seen coming
from the dining-room.
LATTER. That must be so, Ronny.
KEITH. No, John; not a bit of it!
LATTER. You don't think!
KEITH. Good Gad, who wants to think after dinner!
DOT. Come on! Let's play pool. [She turns at the billiard-room
door.] Look here! Rehearsal to-morrow is directly after breakfast;
from "Eccles enters breathless" to the end.
MABEL. Whatever made you choose "Caste," DOT? You know it's awfully
difficult.
DOT. Because it's the only play that's not too advanced. [The girls
all go into the billiard-room.]
LADY CHESHIRE. Where's Bill, Ronny?
KEITH. [With a grimace] I rather think Sir William and he are in
Committee of Supply--Mem-Sahib.
LADY CHESHIRE. Oh!
She looks uneasily at the dining-room; then follows the girls
out.
LATTER. [In the tone of one resuming an argument] There can't be
two opinions about it, Ronny. Young Dunning's refusal is simply
indefensible.
KEITH. I don't agree a bit, John.
LATTER. Of course, if you won't listen.
KEITH. [Clipping a cigar] Draw it mild, my dear chap. We've had
the whole thing over twice at least.
LATTER. My point is this----
KEITH. [Regarding LATTER quizzically with his halfclosed eyes]
I know--I know--but the point is, how far your point is simply
professional.
LATTER. If a man wrongs a woman, he ought to right her again.
There's no answer to that.
KEITH. It all depends.
LATTER. That's rank opportunism.
KEITH. Rats! Look here--Oh! hang it, John, one can't argue this out
with a parson.
LATTER. [Frigidly] Why not?
HAROLD. [Who has entered from the dining-room] Pull devil, pull
baker!
KEITH. Shut up, Harold!
LATTER. "To play the game" is the religion even of the Army.
KEITH. Exactly, but what is the game?
LATTER. What else can it be in this case?
KEITH. You're too puritanical, young John. You can't help it--line
of country laid down for you. All drag-huntin'! What!
LATTER. [With concentration] Look here!
HAROLD. [Imitating the action of a man pulling at a horse's head]
'Come hup, I say, you hugly beast!'
KEITH. [To LATTER] You're not going to draw me, old chap. You
don't see where you'd land us all. [He smokes calmly]
LATTER. How do you imagine vice takes its rise? From precisely this
sort of thing of young Dunning's.
KEITH. From human nature, I should have thought, John. I admit that
I don't like a fellow's leavin' a girl in the lurch; but I don't see
the use in drawin' hard and fast rules. You only have to break 'em.
Sir William and you would just tie Dunning and the girl up together,
willy-nilly, to save appearances, and ten to one but there'll be the
deuce to pay in a year's time. You can take a horse to the water,
you can't make him drink.
LATTER. I entirely and absolutely disagree with you.
HAROLD. Good old John!
LATTER. At all events we know where your principles take you.
KEITH. [Rather dangerously] Where, please? [HAROLD turns up his
eyes, and points downwards] Dry up, Harold!
LATTER. Did you ever hear the story of Faust?
KEITH. Now look here, John; with all due respect to your cloth, and
all the politeness in the world, you may go to-blazes.
LATTER. Well, I must say, Ronny--of all the rude boors----[He turns
towards the billiard-room.]
KEITH. Sorry I smashed the glass, old chap.
LATTER passes out. There comes a mingled sound through the
opened door, of female voices, laughter, and the click of
billiard balls, dipped of by the sudden closing of the door.
KEITH. [Impersonally] Deuced odd, the way a parson puts one's back
up! Because you know I agree with him really; young Dunning ought to
play the game; and I hope Sir William'll make him.
The butler JACKSON has entered from the door under the stairs
followed by the keeper STUDDENHAM, a man between fifty and
sixty, in a full-skirted coat with big pockets, cord breeches,
and gaiters; he has a steady self respecting weathered face,
with blue eyes and a short grey beard, which has obviously once
been red.
KEITH. Hullo! Studdenham!
STUDDENHAM. [Touching his forehead] Evenin', Captain Keith.
JACKSON. Sir William still in the dining-room with Mr. Bill, sir?
HAROLD. [With a grimace] He is, Jackson.
JACKSON goes out to the dining-room.
KEITH. You've shot no pheasants yet, Studdenham?
STUDDENHAM. No, Sir. Only birds. We'll be doin' the spinneys and
the home covert while you're down.
KEITH. I say, talkin' of spinneys----
He breaks off sharply, and goes out with HAROLD into the
billiard-room. SIR WILLIAM enters from the dining-room,
applying a gold toothpick to his front teeth.
SIR WILLIAM. Ah! Studdenham. Bad business this, about young
Dunning!
STUDDENHAM. Yes, Sir William.
SIR WILLIAM. He definitely refuses to marry her?
STUDDENHAM. He does that.
SIR WILLIAM. That won't do, you know. What reason does he give?
STUDDENHAM. Won't say other than that he don't want no more to do
with her.
SIR WILLIAM. God bless me! That's not a reason. I can't have a
keeper of mine playing fast and loose in the village like this.
[Turning to LADY CHESHIRE, who has come in from the billiard-room]
That affair of young Dunning's, my dear.
LADY CHESHIRE. Oh! Yes! I'm so sorry, Studdenham. The poor girl!
STUDDENHAM. [Respectfully] Fancy he's got a feeling she's not his
equal, now, my lady.
LADY CHESHIRE. [To herself] Yes, I suppose he has made her his
superior.
SIR WILLIAM. What? Eh! Quite! Quite! I was just telling
Studdenham the fellow must set the matter straight. We can't have
open scandals in the village. If he wants to keep his place he must
marry her at once.
LADY CHESHIRE. [To her husband in a low voice] Is it right to force
them? Do you know what the girl wishes, Studdenham?
STUDDENHAM. Shows a spirit, my lady--says she'll have him--willin'
or not.
LADY CHESHIRE. A spirit? I see. If they marry like that they're
sure to be miserable.
SIR WILLIAM. What! Doesn't follow at all. Besides, my dear, you
ought to know by this time, there's an unwritten law in these
matters. They're perfectly well aware that when there are
consequences, they have to take them.
STUDDENHAM. Some o' these young people, my lady, they don't put two
and two together no more than an old cock pheasant.
SIR WILLIAM. I'll give him till to-morrow. If he remains obstinate,
he'll have to go; he'll get no character, Studdenham. Let him know
what I've said. I like the fellow, he's a good keeper. I don't want
to lose him. But this sort of thing I won't have. He must toe the
mark or take himself off. Is he up here to-night?
STUDDENHAM. Hangin' partridges, Sir William. Will you have him in?
SIR WILLIAM. [Hesitating] Yes--yes. I'll see him.
STUDDENHAM. Good-night to you, my lady.
LADY CHESHIRE. Freda's not looking well, Studdenham.
STUDDENHAM. She's a bit pernickitty with her food, that's where it
is.
LADY CHESHIRE. I must try and make her eat.
SIR WILLIAM. Oh! Studdenham. We'll shoot the home covert first.
What did we get last year?
STUDDENHAM. [Producing the game-book; but without reference to it]
Two hundred and fifty-three pheasants, eleven hares, fifty-two
rabbits, three woodcock, sundry.
SIR WILLIAM. Sundry? Didn't include a fox did it? [Gravely] I was
seriously upset this morning at Warnham's spinney----
SUDDENHAM. [Very gravely] You don't say, Sir William; that
four-year-old he du look a handful!
SIR WILLIAM. [With a sharp look] You know well enough what I mean.
STUDDEN | 2,186.750687 |
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BILL NYE'S
CORDWOOD
COPYRIGHT. 1887
CHICAGO:
RHODES & MCCLURE PUBLISHING CO.
1887.
[Illustration: Bill Nye]
Transcriber's note:
There was no Contents list in the original, one has been placed in
this ebook for ease of navigation.
Bill Nye on the Cow Industry.
A New Biography of Galileo.
Methuselah.
Notes on Some Spring Styles.
Hunting an Ichthyosaurus.
True Merit Rewarded.
Bill Nye condoles with Cleveland.
No Doubt as to His Condition.
Cyclones.
The Earth.
Francisco Pizarro's Career.
Bill Nye "Incubates."
Bill Nye on Tobacco.--A Discourager of Cannibalism.
Bill Nye's Arctic-le.
Bill Nye's Answers to Correspondents.
Bill Nye Preparing A Political Speech in Advance for a Time of Need.
Bill Nye on Railroads.
Bill Nye's Letter.
Favored a Higher Fine.
How Bill Nye Failed to Make the Amende Honorable--A Pathetic Incident.
Seeing a Saw Mill.
How A Chinaman Rides the Untamed Broncho.
Bill Nye Wants to Know How to Preserve Game.
Bill Nye Attends Booth's "Hamlet."
Bill Nye's Advice
A Would-be Hostelry.
Bill Nye's Hornets.
A Tragedy.
The Bronco Cow.
Autumn Thoughts.
Bill Nye's Advice Bag.
Mr. Sweeney's Cat.
Bill Nye's Letter.
Declined with Thanks.
BILL NYE'S
CORDWOOD.
BILL NYE ON THE COW INDUSTRY.
A COWBOY COLLEGE NEEDED TO EDUCATE YOUNG MEN TO THIS PROFESSION.
No one can go through the wide territory of Montana to-day without being
strongly impressed with | 2,186.846386 |
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Bullets & Billets
By Bruce Bairnsfather
1916
TO MY OLD PALS,
"BILL," "BERT," AND "ALF,"
WHO HAVE SAT IN THE MUD WITH ME
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Landing at Havre--Tortoni's--Follow the tram lines--Orders
for the Front.
CHAPTER II
Tortuous travelling--Clippers and tablets--Dumped at a
siding--I join my Battalion.
CHAPTER III
Those Plugstreet trenches--Mud and rain--Flooded out--A
hopeless dawn.
CHAPTER IV
More mud--Rain and bullets--A bit of cake--"Wind up"--Night
rounds.
CHAPTER V
My man Friday--"Chuck us the biscuits"--Relieved--Billets.
CHAPTER VI
The Transport Farm--Fleeced by the Flemish--Riding--Nearing
Christmas.
CHAPTER VII
A projected attack---Digging a sap--An 'ell of a night--The
attack--Puncturing Prussians.
CHAPTER VIII
Christmas Eve--A lull in hate--Briton cum Boche.
CHAPTER IX
Souvenirs--A ride to Nieppe--Tea at H.Q.--Trenches once more.
CHAPTER X
My partial escape from the mud--The deserted village--My
"cottage."
CHAPTER XI
Stocktaking--Fortifying--Nebulous Fragments.
CHAPTER XII
A brain wave--Making a "funk hole"--Plugstreet Wood--Sniping.
CHAPTER XIII
Robinson Crusoe--That turbulent table.
CHAPTER XIV
The Amphibians--Fed-up, but determined--The gun parapet.
CHAPTER XV
Arrival of the "Johnsons"--"Where did that one go?"--The
First Fragment dispatched--The exodus--Where?
CHAPTER XVI
New trenches--The night inspection--Letter from the
_Bystander_.
CHAPTER XVII
Wulverghem--The Douve--Corduroy boards--Back at our farm.
CHAPTER XVIII
The painter and decorator--Fragments forming--Night on the
mud prairie.
CHAPTER XIX
Visions of leave--Dick Turpin--Leave!
CHAPTER XX
That Leave train--My old pal--London and home--The call of
the wild.
CHAPTER XXI
Back from leave--That "blinkin' moon"--Johnson 'oles--Tommy
and "frightfulness"--Exploring expedition.
CHAPTER XXII
A daylight stalk--The disused trench--"Did they see me?"--A
good sniping position.
CHAPTER XXIII
Our moated farm--Wulverghem--The Cure's house--A shattered
Church--More "heavies"--A farm on fire.
CHAPTER XXIV
That ration fatigue--Sketches in request--Bailleul--Baths and
lunatics--How to conduct a war.
CHAPTER XXV
Getting stale--Longing for change--We leave the Douve--On the
march--Spotted fever--Ten days' rest.
CHAPTER XXVI
A pleasant change--Suzette, Berthe and Marthe--"La jeune
fille farouche"--Andre.
CHAPTER XXVII
Getting fit--Caricaturing the Cure--"Dirty work ahead"--A
projected attack--Unlooked-for orders.
CHAPTER XXVIII
We march for Ypres--Halt at Locre--A bleak camp and meagre
fare--Signs of battle--First view of Ypres.
CHAPTER XXIX
Getting nearer--A lugubrious party--Still nearer--Blazing
Ypres--Orders for attack.
CHAPTER XXX
Rain and mud--A trying march--In the thick of it--A wounded
officer--Heavy shelling--I get my "quietus!"
CHAPTER XXXI
Slowly recovering--Field hospital--Ambulance train--Back in
England.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Bruce Bairnsfather: a photograph
The Birth of "Fragments": Scribbles on the farmhouse walls
That Astronomical Annoyance, the Star Shell
"Plugstreet Wood"
A Hopeless Dawn
The usual line in Billeting Farms
"Chuck us the biscuits, Bill. The fire wants mendin'"
"Shut that blinkin' door. There's a 'ell of a draught in 'ere"
A Memory of Christmas, 1914
The Sentry
A Messines Memory: "'Ow about shiftin' a bit further down the road, Fred?"
"Old soldiers never die"
Photograph of the Author. St. Yvon, Christmas Day, 1914
Off "in" again
"Poor old Maggie! She seems to be 'avin' it dreadful wet at 'ome!"
The Tin-opener
"They're devils to snipe, ain't they, Bill?"
Old Bill
FOREWORD
_Down South, in the Valley of the Somme, far
from the spots recorded in this book, I began
to write this story._
_In billets it was. I strolled across the old
farmyard and into the wood beyond. Sitting
by a gurgling little stream, I began, with the
aid of a notebook and a pencil, to record the
joys and sorrows of my first six months in
France._
_I do not claim any unique quality for these
experiences. Many thousands have had the
same. I have merely, by request, made a
record of my times out there, in the way that
they appeared to me_.
BRUCE BAIRNSFATHER.
CHAPTER I
LANDING AT HAVRE--TORTONI'S--FOLLOW
THE TRAM LINES--ORDERS FOR THE FRONT
[Illustration: G]
Gliding up the Seine, on a transport crammed to the lid with troops, in
the still, cold hours of a November morning, was my debut into the war.
It was about 6 a.m. when our boat silently slipped along past the great
wooden sheds, posts and complications of Havre Harbour. I had spent most
of the twelve-hour trip down somewhere in the depths of the ship,
dealing out rations to the hundred men that I had brought with me from
Plymouth. This sounds a comparatively simple process, but not a bit of
it. To begin with, the ship was filled with troops to bursting point,
and the mere matter of proceeding from one deck to another was about as
difficult as trying to get round to see a friend at the other side of
the ground at a Crystal Palace Cup final.
I stood in a queue of Gordons, Seaforths, Worcesters, etc., slowly
moving up one, until, finally arriving at the companion (nearly said
staircase), I tobogganed down into the hold, and spent what was left of
the night dealing out those rations. Having finished at last, I came to
the surface again, and now, as the transport glided along through the
dirty waters of the river, and as I gazed at the motley collection of
Frenchmen on the various wharves, and saw a variety of soldiery, and a
host of other warlike "props," | 2,186.850693 |
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HOCUS POCUS; OR THE WHOLE ART OF LEGERDEMAIN, IN PERFECTION. BY HENRY
DEAN.
[Illustration:
Strange feats are herein taught by slight of hand,
With which you may amuse yourself and friend,
The like in print was never seen before,
And so you’ll say when once you’ve read it o’er.
]
HOCUS POCUS;
OR THE WHOLE ART OF
_LEGERDEMAIN_,
IN PERFECTION.
By which the meaneſt capacity may perform the
whole without the help of a teacher.
_Together with the Uſe of all the Inſtruments_
_belonging thereto._
TO WHICH IS NOW ADDED,
Abundance of New and Rare Inventions.
BY HENRY DEAN.
_The ELEVENTH EDITION, with large_
_Additions and Amendments._
PHILADELPHIA:
PRINTED FOR MATHEW CAREY, NO. 118,
MARKET-STREET.
1795.
THE PREFACE TO THE READER.
KIND READER,
Having _in my former_ book _of_ LEGERDEMAIN, _promiſed you farther
improvements, accordingly I have diſcovered herein to you the greateſt
and moſt wonderful ſecrets of this_ ART, _never written or publiſhed
by any man before: therefore I do not doubt but herein you will find
pleaſure to your full ſatisfaction; which is all my deſire_.
HENRY DEAN.
The Whole ART of LEGERDEMAIN; OR, HOCUS POCUS IN PERFECTION, &c.
Legerdemain is an operation whereby one may seem to work wonderful,
impossible, and incredible things, by agility, nimbleness, and slight
of hand. The parts of this ingenious art, are principally four.
First, In conveyance of balls.
Secondly, In conveyance of money | 2,186.854767 |
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[Illustration]
TALES OF DARING AND DANGER.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: SIGHTING THE WRECK OF THE STEAMER.]
TALES OF
DARING AND DANGER.
BY
G.A. HENTY,
Author of "Yarns on the Beach;" "Sturdy and Strong;" "Facing Death;" "By
Sheer Pluck;" "With Clive in India;" &c.
_ILLUSTRATED._
[Illustration]
LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, 49 & 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C. GLASGOW, EDIN | 2,186.947399 |
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FAMOUS AFFINITIES OF HISTORY
THE ROMANCE OF DEVOTION
BY
LYNDON ORR
VOLUME I OF IV.
CONTENTS
THE STORY OF ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA
ABELARD AND HELOISE
QUEEN ELIZABETH AND THE EARL OF LEICESTER
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS AND LORD BOTHWELL
QUEEN CHRISTINA OF SWEDEN AND THE MARQUIS MONALDESCHI
KING CHARLES II. AND NELL GWYN
MAURICE OF SAXONY AND ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR
THE STORY OF PRINCE CHARLES EDWARD STUART
THE STORY OF ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA
Of all love stories that are known to human history, the love story of
Antony and Cleopatra has been for nineteen centuries the most
remarkable. It has tasked the resources of the plastic and the graphic
arts. It has been made the theme of poets and of prose narrators. It
has appeared and reappeared in a thousand forms, and it appeals as much
to the imagination to-day as it did when Antony deserted his almost
victorious troops and hastened in a swift galley from Actium in pursuit
of Cleopatra.
The wonder of the story is explained by its extraordinary nature. Many
men in private life have lost fortune and fame for the love of woman.
Kings have incurred the odium of their people, and have cared nothing
for it in comparison with the joys of sense that come from the
lingering caresses and clinging kisses. Cold-blooded statesmen, such as
Parnell, have lost the leadership of their party and have gone down in
history with a clouded name because of the fascination exercised upon
them by some woman, often far from beautiful, and yet possessing the
mysterious power which makes the triumphs of statesmanship seem slight
in comparison with the swiftly flying hours of pleasure.
But in the case of Antony and Cleopatra alone do we find a man flinging
away not merely the triumphs of civic honors or the headship of a
state, but much more than these--the mastery of what was practically
the world--in answer to the promptings of a woman's will. Hence the
story of the Roman triumvir and the Egyptian queen is not like any
other story that has yet been told. The sacrifice involved in it was so
overwhelming, so instantaneous, and so complete as to set this
narrative above all others. Shakespeare's genius has touched it with
the glory of a great imagination. Dryden, using it in the finest of his
plays, expressed its nature in the title "All for Love."
The distinguished Italian historian, Signor Ferrero, the author of many
books, has tried hard to eliminate nearly all the romantic elements
from the tale, and to have us see in it not the triumph of love, but
the blindness of ambition. Under his handling it becomes almost a
sordid drama of man's pursuit of power and of woman's selfishness. Let
us review the story as it remains, even after we have taken full
account of Ferrero's criticism. Has the world for nineteen hundred
years been blinded by a show of sentiment? Has it so absolutely been
misled by those who lived and wrote in the days which followed closely
on the events that make up this extraordinary narrative?
In answering these questions we must consider, in the first place, the
scene, and, in the second place, the psychology of the two central
characters who for so long a time have been regarded as the very
embodiment of unchecked passion.
As to the scene, it must be remembered that the Egypt of those days was
not Egyptian as we understand the word, but rather Greek. Cleopatra
herself was of Greek descent. The kingdom of Egypt had been created by
a general of Alexander the Great after that splendid warrior's death.
Its capital, the most brilliant city of the Greco-Roman world, had been
founded by Alexander himself, who gave to it his name. With his own
hands he traced out the limits of the city and issued the most
peremptory orders that it should be made the metropolis of the entire
world. The orders of a king cannot give enduring greatness to a city;
but Alexander's keen eye and marvelous brain saw at once that the site
of Alexandria was such that a great commercial community planted there
would live and flourish throughout out succeeding ages. He was right;
for within a century this new capital of Egypt leaped to the forefront
among the exchanges of the world's commerce, while everything that art
could do was lavished on its embellishment.
Alexandria lay upon a projecting tongue of land so situated that the
whole trade of the Mediterranean centered there. Down the Nile there
floated to its gates the barbaric wealth of Africa. To it came the
treasures of the East, brought from afar by caravans--silks from China,
spices and pearls from India, and enormous masses of gold and silver
from lands scarcely known. In its harbor were the vessels of every
country, from Asia in the East to Spain and Gaul and even Britain in
the West.
When Cleopatra, a young girl of seventeen, succeeded to the throne of
Egypt the population of Alexandria amounted to a million souls. The
customs duties collected at the port would, in terms of modern money,
amount each year to more than thirty million dollars, even though the
imposts were not heavy. The people, who may be described as Greek at
the top and Oriental at the bottom, were boisterous and
pleasure-loving, devoted to splendid spectacles, with horse-racing,
gambling, and dissipation; yet at the same time they were an artistic
people, loving music passionately, and by no means idle, since one part
of the city was devoted to large and prosperous manufactories of linen,
paper, glass, and muslin.
To the outward eye Alexandria was extremely beautiful. Through its
entire length ran two great boulevards, shaded and diversified by
mighty trees and parterres of multicolored flowers, amid which
fountains plashed and costly marbles gleamed. One-fifth of the whole
city was known as the Royal Residence. In it were the palaces of the
reigning family, the great museum, and the famous library which the
Arabs later burned. There were parks and gardens brilliant with
tropical foliage and adorned with the masterpieces of Grecian
sculpture, while sphinxes and obelisks gave a suggestion of Oriental
strangeness. As one looked seaward his eye beheld over the blue water
the snow-white rocks of the sheltering island, Pharos, on which was
reared a lighthouse four hundred feet in height and justly numbered
among the seven wonders of the world. Altogether, Alexandria was a city
of wealth, of beauty, of stirring life, of excitement, and of pleasure.
Ferrero has aptly likened it to Paris--not so much the Paris of to-day
as the Paris of forty years ago, when the Second Empire flourished in
all its splendor as the home of joy and strange delights.
Over the country of which Alexandria was the capital Cleopatra came to
reign at seventeen. Following the odd custom which the Greek dynasty of
the Ptolemies had inherited from their Egyptian predecessors, she was
betrothed to her own brother. He, however, was a mere child of less
than twelve, and was under the control of evil counselors, who, in his
name, gained control of the capital and drove Cleopatra into exile.
Until then she had been a mere girl; but now the spirit of a woman who
was wronged blazed up in her and called out all her latent powers.
Hastening to Syria, she gathered about herself an army and led it
against her foes.
But meanwhile Julius Caesar, the greatest man of ancient times, had
arrived at Alexandria backed by an army of his veterans. Against him no
resistance would avail. Then came a brief moment during which the
Egyptian king and the Egyptian queen each strove to win the favor of
the Roman imperator. The king and his advisers had many arts, and so
had Cleopatra. One thing, however, she possessed which struck the
balance in her favor, and this was a woman's fascination.
According to the story, Caesar was unwilling to receive her. There came
into his presence, as he sat in the palace, a group of slaves bearing a
long roll of matting, bound carefully and seeming to contain some
precious work of art. The slaves made signs that they were bearing a
gift to Caesar. The master of Egypt bade them unwrap the gift that he
might see it. They did so, and out of the wrapping came Cleopatra--a
radiant vision, appealing, irresistible. Next morning it became known
everywhere that Cleopatra had remained in Caesar's quarters through the
night and that her enemies were now his enemies. In desperation they
rushed upon his legions, casting aside all pretense of amity. There
ensued a fierce contest, but the revolt was quenched in blood.
This was a crucial moment in Cleopatra's life. She had sacrificed all
that a woman has to give; but she had not done so from any love of
pleasure or from wantonness. She was queen of Egypt, and she had
redeemed her kingdom and kept it by her sacrifice. One should not
condemn her too severely. In a sense, her act was one of heroism like
that of Judith in the tent of Holofernes. But beyond all question it
changed her character. It taught her the secret of her own great power.
Henceforth she was no longer a mere girl, nor a woman of the ordinary
type. Her contact with so great a mind as Caesar's quickened her
intellect. Her knowledge that, by the charms of sense, she had mastered
even him transformed her into a strange and wonderful creature. She
learned to study the weaknesses of men, to play on their emotions, to
appeal to every subtle taste and fancy. In her were blended mental
power and that illusive, indefinable gift which is called charm.
For Cleopatra was never beautiful. Signor Ferrero seems to think this
fact to be discovery of his own, but it was set down by Plutarch in a
very striking passage written less than a century after Cleopatra and
Antony died. We may quote here what the Greek historian said of her:
Her actual beauty was far from being so remarkable that none could be
compared with her, nor was it such that it would strike your fancy when
you saw her first. Yet the influence of her presence, if you lingered
near her, was irresistible. Her attractive personality, joined with the
charm of her conversation, and the individual touch that she gave to
everything she said or did, were utterly bewitching. It was delightful
merely to hear the music of her voice, with which, like an instrument
of many strings, she could pass from one language to another.
Ca | 2,186.950472 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Eunice
By Margaret Murray Robertson
Published by Hodder and Stoughton, 27 Paternoster Row, London.
This edition dated 1890.
Eunice, by Margaret Murray Robertson.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
EUNICE, BY MARGARET MURRAY ROBERTSON.
CHAPTER ONE.
GOING HOME.
One fair morning, a good many years ago, a number of schoolgirls were
waiting at a little wayside station on the banks of the Connecticut
River. They had crossed the river in a ferry-boat and were waiting for
more of their number who were coming after them.
They were waiting patiently enough. It was a good place in which to
wait, for the scene around them was very lovely. They were standing at
the foot of Mount Tom, glorious in the morning sunshine, and looking
over on the shadows which still lingered on the face of Mount Holyoke.
From the far north flows the Connecticut River broadening on its way, as
Green Mountain and White send down on either hand, from melting
snow-drifts and hidden springs, their tribute to its waters. Through
forests and broken hill country, through meadows, sometimes broad and
sometimes narrow, past town and village and lonely farmhouse, it flows
before it makes a bend to pass between Mounts Tom and Holyoke, but in
all its course it flows through no fairer landscape than that which
spreads itself around the base of these two historic mountains.
Over all the land lay the promise of spring in the glory of cloudless
sunshine. Only the promise as yet. The mountains were still bare and
brown, with patches of snow lingering in hollow and crevice; and the
great elms that were everywhere--in the village streets, along the roads
that wound between the hills, and around the white farmhouses--showed no
tinge of green as yet, but their brown buds were ready and waiting to
burst; the meadows were growing green and the catkins were large and
full on the willows by the brooks that hastened through them to the
river. There was a soft tinge, half green, half golden, on earlier
trees growing in sheltered places; and the promise of the spring was
everywhere--more joyfully welcomed after a long winter than spring in
the full glory of leaf and blossom.
They were thinking and speaking of other things--these waiting
schoolgirls. Some of them walked about, softly speaking last words to
each other, and some of them were watching the coming of the boat over
the swollen waters of the river. But the beauty around them, the
sweetness of the spring morning, the restful quiet on mountain and
valley, were present with them all.
"Nellie Austin," said a voice from the group that watched the boat, "do
you see? Your `Faithful' is coming after all."
"My Faithful!"--and a young girl sprang forward as the boat touched the
bank.
A slender girl, very plainly dressed, stepped out first--a girl with
grave dark eyes and a firm mouth, which yet trembled a little as she
answered her companion's greeting.
"Faithful! my Faithful! you are coming home with me after all?"
"No, dear; I am going home to my Eunice. I thought I had better."
"Have you heard again? Is she not well?"
"I have not heard again; but she is not very well, I am afraid. I must
go and see."
"But you will come back again? You will never, never think of not
coming back!"
"Oh, yes, I hope so! I think so--unless she is really sick."
"Oh, she is not so very sick, or you would have heard! What should I
ever do without you? Now you must sit with me as far as I go. Here are
the cars!"
There was no time to lose. The "cars" had come which were to carry the
schoolgirls home for a fortnight's rest and holiday. From the windows a
good many people looked out with interest on the group of girls, and one
said to his friend--
"They are from the seminary over the river yonder. We saw it as we came
on."
"Schoolgirls? No; they don't look like schoolgirls. The greater part
of them must be out of their teens, I should say."
"Possibly, but all the same they are schoolgirls, though there may be a
teacher or two among them."
"Well, friend, after all that you have been telling me about your
wonderful common school system, I should have supposed that the
education of these sedate young persons might have been finished before
the age of twenty."
"Oh, I have no doubt that these young persons have had the benefit of
common school and high school too, before they aspired to a place in the
seminary over yonder; and the chances are that some of them since then
have earned, either with hands or head, the means to carry them further
on; and for these there can be no better place than the plain brick
seminary on the other side of the river!"
"Well," said his friend, "I can only repeat what I have said to you more
than once already--you are a curious people in some ways--with your boys
who are men, and your prim grave-faced young women who are schoolgirls.
I should like to put a question or two to some of them, if I might."
His friend shook his head.
"You may have a chance to do so before you leave the country, but not
to-day, I think. You have no grown-up schoolgirls in _Old_ England?
Out of _New_ England I don't suppose we have so very many even in this
country; and there are probably more in the seminary over there than in
schools generally among us. It was built by special means for a special
purpose. A woman built it--a woman who never owned a dollar that she
had not first earned--a great and good woman. She gave herself, body,
soul, and spirit, to the work of helping her countrywomen--her sisters,
she called them all--who were hungering and thirsting, as she herself in
her youth had hungered and thirsted, for knowledge."
"With a view to making learned ladies of them all?"
"Learned ladies? Well, yes, perhaps--as a means to an end. You may
think it strange, as others have thought; but this woman really believed
His word who said, `Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price.'
`None of us liveth to himself.'"
"In a way, we all believe them, I suppose."
"Yes, in a way. Well, she believed them in another way. She believed
them and lived them all her life long. Learned ladies! Yes; but the
keynote of all her teaching was this: `Not your own, but His who bought
you. His for service or for suffering, for watching or warfare, for
life or death.'"
"Well?" said his friend, as the speaker paused.
"Well, she is dead, and `her works do follow her.'"
There was no time for more. The train stopped, and several of the
"schoolgirls" rose to leave. The travellers heard one "Good-bye"
spoken.
"Oh, if you would come with me even yet, dear Faithful!"
"Another time I hope to go with you; but not this time."
"Well, good-bye, my Faithful, good-bye. No, I am not going to cry, but
I _will_ kiss you, whatever any one may think about it."
And then the speaker was gone. No one saw her companion's face for some
time after that. Nor did she see the receding mountains on which she
seemed to be gazing. Her eyes were dim with tears which must not be
allowed to fall.
"Fidelia Marsh," said her companion at last, "what are you thinking
about? Not little Nellie Austin all this time, surely?"
The young girl turned round. "I was trying to think how it would seem
if I were never to see her or any of you all again;" and then she turned
her face to the window, and sat silent till her turn had come to say
"Good-bye."
"Yes, this is my stopping-place."
She smiled and nodded to those who were not within reach of her hand,
and seemed to be cheerful enough in her good-bye, but she did not linger
near the window when she reached the platform, as Nellie Austin and her
friend had done.
It was a dreary little station, standing at the foot of a broken stony
<DW72>, with only one unfurnished house in sight. One lank official
moved about at his leisure, and one embryo trader hastened to display
his boxes of lozenges, and his basket of unwholesome peanuts and last
year's apples. There were doubtless prosperous villages along the wide
road that crossed the railway, and pleasant farmhouses amid the high
pastures and moist meadow lands hid away among the hills beyond; but the
dingy house and the dull little station were all that could be seen from
the windows of the cars, and Fidelia's companions said to one another
that the place looked forlorn.
"And poor dear Fidelia! Does she not look forlorn as well?"
They had time to watch her as she went to claim her trunk, and they saw
her shake hands with the leisurely official, who was evidently an
acquaintance. But when she turned at last to the window she did not
look "forlorn." A beautiful face looked up from under a big bonnet--a
rarely beautiful face, delicate yet strong. There were slight hollows
and a darkened shade beneath the lovely grey eyes set wide apart under a
low broad forehead, and the pale rose-tint on her cheeks might have been
deeper with advantage. The look of delicacy was due to the hard work
she had been doing, but the strength was real, and she would last
through harder work than ever she was likely to have at school.
Forlorn? No. Her face was radiant! The solemn-looking station-master
had wrought the change.
"Well, Fidelia, you've got home, haven't you? Folks don't expect you,
do they?"
"I didn't write that I was coming. I was not sure till the last minute.
Are they all well about here?"
"Yes, I guess so. Eunice is well, any way. She was to meeting Sunday;
and seems to me Lucinda said she was at the sewing-circle at the
doctor's the other day. She'll be glad to see _you_, sick or well."
"I'm glad and thankful that she is well," said Fidelia softly. "I must
say good-bye to the girls."
She turned quickly towards the faces at the windows.
"Have you heard good news, Fidelia?" called some one.
There was no time for words, but the joy on the girl's upturned face was
better than any last words could have been, even though her lips
trembled and her eyes were dim with tears.
And then the train swept on among the hills, and she who had been called
"Faithful" turned her face toward her home, to get the first glimpse of
the work which awaited her there. Not the work which she had been
planning for herself during the last year, but her work all the same--
the work which God had appointed her to do.
Declining the station-master's invitation to "go in and see Lucinda and
wait for a chance to ride home," she went on her way with a cheerful
heart. She followed the wide road, leading westward, only a little way.
Then she went in at an open gate, and across a stony pasture, till she
came to a narrow road leading at first through a thicket of spruce and
cedar, where it was necessary carefully to pick her steps over the wet
moss and stones, and over the network of brown roots which the spring
freshets had laid bare. After a while the road began to ascend, and
then the cedars and spruces were left behind, and birch and poplar and
dogwood, but chiefly great maple trees, with branches high above all the
rest, covered the hillside. It was up hill and down again all the way
after that till the journey was done.
But she did not mind the hills or the roughness of the way. The fresh
air and the free movement were delightful to her in her new freedom, and
everything about her seemed beautiful. She caught sight of many a green
thing growing among the dead leaves; and more than once she paused and
stopped as if she would have liked to pick them. But her hands were
full, and the nearer she drew to her home the more eager she grew to
reach it. "I'll come again," she murmured. "Oh, I am so glad that
Eunice is well!"
She reached the top of a hill steeper and higher than the rest, at a
point from which could be seen a few miles of the railway, passing along
the valley. Her thoughts came back to her companions, and she sighed,
and all at once began to feel tired; and then she sat down to rest, and,
as she rested, she took a book from the bag which she had been carrying
in her hand.
"I am so glad that Eunice is well," she said to herself as she turned
over the leaves. "She was at meeting, he said, and at the
sewing-circle. Well, I am glad I came home all the same. And I can do
something at `The Evidences' while I am here."
She glanced on a page or two, and in her interest in them she might have
forgotten her haste, and lingered, had not the sound of approaching
wheels disturbed the silence a little. She rose in time to see the
leisurely approach of an old grey horse and an old-fashioned
weather-stained chaise. They were familiar objects to her, and some of
the pleasantest associations of her life were connected with them; but
her heart beat hard and her face grew pale as she watched their slow
approach.
"Dr Everett," said she, "are you going to see Eunice?"
"Is it you, Fidelia? Are you just come home? No, I am not going to see
Eunice. Is she not well? She'll be glad to see _you_, sick or well,"
added the doctor, as her other friend had done.
He was out of the chaise by this time, and offering his hand to help her
over the crooked fence. But, instead of taking it, she gave one glance
in the kind good face, and laid her own down on the rough bark of the
cedar rail and burst out crying.
"It was full time for you to come home, I think, if that is the best
greeting you have to give your friends. You've been overdoing, and have
got nervous, I guess," said the doctor, moving aside first one rail and
then another from the fence, to make it easier for her to get over.
"Oh, no, Dr Everett, it is not that! Nervous indeed! I don't know
what it means. Only I'm so glad to get home, and--so glad that Eunice
is well--"
If she had said another word she must have cried again.
"Well, never mind. Get into the chaise, and I'll drive you home; and
then I'll see about Eunice and you too."
It was ridiculous, Fidelia told herself. It had never happened in all
her life before. But it was more than she could do for awhile to
command her voice or stop her tears. The doctor made himself busy with
the harness for a little, and, having left his whip behind him, he cut a
switch from a hickory-tree beside the road; and by the time he was ready
to get into the chaise Fidelia was herself again.
"Have you been having a good time?" asked the doctor presently.
"Yes, indeed! I have enjoyed every minute of it. And I have been
perfectly well, Dr Everett. I have never lost one recitation."
"I suppose you have been at the head of the class and have got the
medal."
Fidelia laughed. "I'm not the best scholar by a good many. But I have
got on pretty well."
"Well, you have got up a step, I hear."
"I have been taking some of the studies of the second year. My Latin
helped me on, and--other things. And--I mean to graduate next year."
"Do in two years what other girls are expected to do in three or four,
and injure your health for life doing it? That would be a poor kind of
wisdom, little girl."
"Oh, I haven't been doing too much, and I don't mean to! But you know,
two years means more to Eunice and me than it does to most people. Oh,
it will be all easy enough! I was well prepared. You see Eunice knew
just what was needed."
"Yes, and Eunice is a good teacher."
"Isn't she?" said Fidelia eagerly. "I haven't seen one yet to compare
with her. Oh, if Eunice had only had my chance!"
"Softly, little girl! Your chance, indeed! Dear Eunice is far beyond
all that sort of thing. She has had better teaching."
"Yes; but Eunice would have liked it. You know she was at the seminary
one of its first years. And she would have gone on. She told me the
last night I was at home that it was years before she could quite give
up the hope of going there again. And I don't see why she shouldn't.
She is not thirty-two years old yet; and it was not just for young girls
that the seminary was built; and--"
"My dear, Eunice has got past the need of all that. It would be like
sending you and Susie back again to the old red schoolhouse, to send
Eunice there."
The doctor had cut his hickory stick, but he had not used it, and old
Grey had been moving on but slowly. There was still a long hill to
climb before they reached the spot where Fidelia could catch a first
glimpse of home. Old Grey moved slowly still, but neither of them spoke
another word till he stood still at the door.
It was a low wooden house, which had once been painted brown; but the
weather-stains on the walls, and the green moss and the lichens on the
roof, made its only colouring now. It had wide eaves, and many
small-paned windows, and a broad porch before the door. A wild vine
covered the porch and one of the windows, and the buds were beginning to
show green upon it. The house stood in a large garden, which might be a
pretty garden in the summer-time, but nothing had been done to it yet.
The sunshine was on it, however, and it was beautiful in Fidelia's eyes.
She had lived in this old brown house more than half of the eighteen
years of her life; she had been faithfully cared for and dearly loved;
and there were tears in her eyes, though her face was bright, as she
went in at the door.
"You are coming in, Dr Everett?" said she.
"Yes, I am coming in. Do you suppose Eunice has a glass of buttermilk
for me this morning?"
"If she has not, she has got cream for you, I am quite sure," said she,
laughing.
Then they went in, and, finding no one, they went through the house to
the garden beyond, where a woman with a large white sun-bonnet on her
head was stooping over some budding thing at her feet. She raised
herself up in a little, and came towards them, closely examining
something which she held in her hand. So she did not see them till she
came near the door where they stood. As she glanced up and saw them a
shadow seemed to pass over her face. The doctor saw it; but Fidelia
only saw the smile that chased it away.
"My little girl!" said Eunice softly.
Fidelia hid her face on her sister's shoulder, and no word was spoken
for a minute or two. Then they went into the house, and Fidelia said,
with a little laugh,--
"I got homesick at the last minute, dear, and so I came home."
"All right, dear. If you could spare the time, it was right to come. I
am very glad."
The doctor got his buttermilk and cream as well, but he sat still,
seeming in no hurry to go away. He listened, and put in a word now and
then, but listened chiefly. He lost no tone or movement of either; and
when Fidelia went, at her sister's bidding, to take off her bonnet and
shawl, he rose and took the elder sister's hand, putting his finger on
her pulse.
"Are you as well as usual these days, Eunice?" said he.
For an instant she seemed to shrink away from him, and would not meet
his eye. Then she said, speaking very slowly and gently,--
"I cannot say that I am quite as well as usual. I meant to see you in a
day or two. Now I will wait a little longer."
"Had you better wait?"
"Yes, I think so. I am not going to spoil Fidelia's pleasure, now that
she is at home for a few days, and I will wait. It won't really make
any difference."
"Eunice," said the doctor gravely, "are you afraid of--anything?"
A sudden wave of colour made her face for the moment beautiful. Tears
came into her eyes, but she smiled as she said,--
"No, not afraid; I hope I should not be afraid even if I should be going
to suffer all that I saw her suffer."
"Eunice, why have you not told me before? It was hardly friendly to be
silent with any such thought in your mind."
"Well, it is as I said. A little sooner or later could make no
difference."
"And because you did not like to make your friends unhappy you ran this
risk."
The doctor was standing with his face to the door at which Fidelia at
the moment entered, and his tone changed.
"Well, to-morrow you must send your little girl down to see my little
girls, unless they should hear of her home-coming, and be up here this
afternoon. No; they shall not come, nor any one else. You shall have
this day to yourselves. And mind one thing--there must be no
school-books about during vacation time. Miss Eunice, I will trust to
you to see to that."
And then he went away.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE SISTERS.
"Are you really well, Eunice? You don't look very well," said Fidelia,
kneeling down beside her sister, and looking wistfully into her face.
"Are you sure that you are well?"
"I am pretty well, dear. I have been about all the winter pretty much
as usual. Who has been telling that I have not been well?"
"No one has written, in so many words, that you were sick. But you
don't seem to have been about among the neighbours as much as usual, and
you have given up your class in the Sunday school."
"Yes, I gave it up for a while, but I have taken it again. I thought I
had better give it up in the beginning of the winter, as I could not be
quite regular, because of the bad roads. And Mr Fuller--the new
teacher--could take it as well as not. He was glad to take it; and he
is a born teacher. He has done good work among the boys on Sundays and
week-days too. But he has gone away, and I have my class again. Was it
because you thought I was sick that you came home, dear?"
"Well, I wanted to be sure about you. And I got homesick when I saw the
other girls going. I am glad I came: I can help in the garden."
"Yes; and ten days in the garden will do more good to your summer work
than ten days at your books could do. I am very glad you have come
home."
"I only brought one book. I must take a little time for it. Now I will
get dinner if you will tell me what to do. I am hungry."
"Of course you are. And I can scarcely wait to hear all you have to
tell me."
She did not need to wait. Fidelia laid the table, talking all the time
as she went from pantry to cupboard; and Eunice listened as she prepared
the dinner with her own hands--as she did every day, for there was no
"help" in the house. It was a very simple meal, and it was spread in
the room in which it was prepared.
It was the winter kitchen and the summer dining-room--a beautiful room,
perfect in neatness and simplicity, and in the tasteful arrangement of
its old-fashioned furniture. There was a "secretary" of dark wood,
which might have "come over in the _Mayflower_" between the windows,
with a bookcase above it; there were a tall clock and two carved
armchairs, a chintz-covered sofa which looked new beside the rest of the
things, and a rocking-chair or two. There were pretty muslin curtains
on the windows, and pictures on the walls; and except for the stove that
stood against the chimney-place one might easily have mistaken the room,
and called it the parlour, for there was no trace of kitchen utensil or
kitchen soil to be seen. The utensils were all in the "sink room" which
opened near the back door, and the soil was nowhere.
All the house was beautiful in its perfect neatness. Everything in it
was old, and some of the things were ancient, and had a history. A
story could be told of oak chest and bookcase and bureau. Some
association, sad or sweet, clung to every old-fashioned ornament and to
every picture on the wall.
"I don't believe there is so pleasant a house in all the state as this
is," said Fidelia gravely.
Her sister smiled. "You have not seen many of the houses in the state,"
said she.
"But I have seen several. And I think I know."
They had the long afternoon to themselves. The elder sister had
something to tell about the quiet winter days, many of which she had
spent alone. She said nothing of loneliness, however; she called it
restful quiet. She had had visitors enough, and every one had been
mindful and kind, from Judge Leonard, who had sent his sleigh to take
her to church on stormy Sundays, to Jabez Ainsworth, who had shovelled
her paths and fed her hens and cow all the winter, and left her nothing
troublesome or toilsome to do. She told of the work which had occupied
her, the books she had read, and the letters she had received and
written, and enlarged on several items of neighbourhood news which she
had only had time to mention in her letter.
Then Fidelia had her turn: nothing that she could tell could fail to
interest her sister as to the months in which they had been separated.
Her studies, her friends, her room-mate, little Nellie Austin, the
youngest pupil in the school; the teachers, the school routine,
household affairs--all were full of interest to Eunice, who had been a
pupil herself long ago; but she listened in silence to it all. Even
when Fidelia began to plan | 2,186.952437 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.0308500 | 2,433 | 12 |
Transcribed from the 1815 R. Thomas edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
[Picture: Public domain book cover]
THE
_SPEEDY APPEARANCE_
OF
CHRIST
DESIRED BY THE CHURCH.
_BEING THE SUBSTANCE OF A_
Sermon,
PREACHED ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND,
_August_ 27, 1815.
* * * * *
BY J. CHURCH,
MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL, SURREY TABERNACLE.
[Picture: Decorative divider]
It shall be said in that day, lo, we have waited for him, he will
save
us.—_Isaiah_ xxv, 9.
Even so come, LORD JESUS—Rev. xxii, 20.
* * * * *
Southwark:
PRINTED BY R. THOMAS, RED LION STREET, BOROUGH.
* * * * *
A SERMON.
SOL. SONG, 8th Chap. last Verse.
_Make haste_, _my Beloved_, _and be thou like to a Roe_, _or a young_
_Hart upon the Mountains of Spices_.
THIS divine Poem, is designed by the Holy Spirit, to exhibit the love of
God our dear Saviour, to his chosen people, with all the happy
consequences of that eternal affection. The whole book is full of
Christ, as the all in all of the Church, which he has purchased with his
blood—the union subsisting between the elect head and chosen body. What
Christ is to them, and they are to him, is strikingly set forth by many
well-known metaphors. Perhaps there is nothing of greater importance in
the Bible than the Union subsisting between Jesus and his Church, the
whole Scriptures are full of it; all our salvation depends upon it. The
highest idea of Union is that glorious oneness in the three Persons the
adorable Trinity; that though they are distinct in Persons, Names and
Offices, yet they are one in the divine incomprehensible Essence.
The next idea of Union is the hypostatical Union of God in our Nature:
the Word made Flesh and dwelling among us. This is the mystery of
Godliness. The Union between the head and members is the principal
subject of this Song. That Christ and his People are one, is an
everlasting truth, the date of it is eternal, it is indissolvable, it is
mysterious, it is perfect, and will endure to all eternity. Hence it is
compared to the Union that subsists between the foundation of a building
and its superstructure. Christ is the foundation stone, the corner
stone, the tried stone, and will be the top stone.
This Union is set forth by the metaphor of the head and the body, while
the love that united both is set forth in this song, by the neck. The
self-moving love of God will keep this body and head in eternal Union.
This is also represented by the Vine and the Branches. _I am the Vine_,
_ye are the Branches_. All our fruit depends on Union with this Vine—_In
me is thy fruit found_. The scriptures shew this doctrine by the Union
that subsists between the Husband and his Wife: this says the Apostle _is
a great mystery_; _but I speak concerning Christ and his Church_.
In consequence of this Union with Christ and his People, they become
partakers of the same Spirit with him. He that is joined to the Lord is
one spirit. He took our nature, we take his spirit, and like the men of
Judah, we have two parts in David. We are bone of bone, and flesh of his
flesh; and the Apostle tells us, _we are members of his body_, _of his
flesh_, _and of his bones_. Christ being united to his Church, beholds
it with admiration; highly commends her, and to shew how dear she is to
him, he laid down his life for her, in the set time, to favor our souls.
He subdues our enmity, melts our hearts, reconciles our wills, draws our
affections to himself, and leads our faith to admire him, believe in him,
rest on him, and be satisfied with him. He loves us, we love him; he
chose us, we chuse him; he is delighted in us, we in him; he sought us,
we seek him; he commands us, we commend him; he draws near to us, we draw
near to him; he loves the company of his people, they desire his; he
invites them to his arms, his house, his table, and to holy familiarity
with him. His people seeing his glory, beauty, suitableness, and love,
intreat him to visit them, to meet them, to abide with them, to be in
them, walk with them, talk with them, and indulge them with his company.
Thus the Union is mutual, and sweet communion is the blessed effect of
it. The Saviour must see of the travail of his soul, in their complete
conversion. He longs for their coming home, and they long to get home to
see him, who is the brightness of the Father’s glory, and the express
image of his Person. Under this sweet influence of the spirit of love,
the Church breathes forth her earnest desires—_Make haste my beloved_,
_and be thou like to a Roe_, _or a young Hart upon the mountains of
spices_.
The first petition in this song is for clear manifestations of his love.
_Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth_. And the last petition is
the language of the text, the earnest desire to see his face. This is
the Alpha and Omega of the Spirit’s teaching.
We shall first consider the object desired.—_My beloved_.
Secondly, Her earnest request, _Make haste_. And thirdly, The metaphor
here made use of, _Be thou like a Roe_, _or a young Hart upon the
mountains of spices_.
First—The glorious object of the desire of every one taught of God,
emphatically stiled _My beloved_. This title is given to Jesus, nineteen
or twenty times in this book; and no doubt is intended to point out the
high esteem the church has of her Saviour; the clearest, the sweetest
evidence of a person’s interest in Christ, is love to the dear God-Man
Mediator. This principle is shed abroad in the heart; it is always in
the believer as a principle; but it is not always shed abroad in the
feeling sense of it, we wish it was, as it is calculated carry us above
the love of sin, the love of self, the love of the creature, and the love
of the world. Christ as the Christ of God, is the darling of heaven; the
Father loves him, and is well pleased with him. The Holy Spirit’s
principal aim in all his operations is to glorify him; the holy angels
admire and adore him, as their elect head; the spirits of just men, made
perfect, look on him with holy wonder, with rapture, and joy; while every
poor, tried, humble believer, trusts in him, leans upon him, hopes in
him, and sincerely desires to love him above all things else. And if I
know any thing of experience, I must say in the behalf of the church, it
is our principal grief we think on him so little, trust him so little,
admire and adore him so little. This is a lamentation, and must be so to
the end of our days. But our days of mourning on this subject will have
an end—and
Till then I would thy love proclaim,
With every feeling breath;
And may the music of thy name,
Refresh my soul in death.
Christ is the beloved of his church for what is in himself, as God-Man
Mediator. Secondly, Christ is beloved of his church for what he has
done, and is now doing in heaven. If we view him as God, possessing all
divine perfections, and these harmonizing and engaged in our salvation,
O! how glorious do they all appear! Divine sovereignty chose us to
salvation; loved moved him to make this choice; wisdom drew the wonderous
plan; power executed it; goodness made provision for us; truth makes us
free; faithfulness is engaged to make good his promises; pity redeemed
us; compassion leads us to repentance; holiness makes him all-glorious to
us; righteousness justifies; justice forgives us; and perfection renders
us compleat in Christ. Thus all his sublime attributes center in our
salvation, and render Jesus as equal with the Father, beloved to us, if
we view him as Man and Mediator. _There is_, says the Apostle to us,
_One God and one Mediator_, _the Man_, (i.e. _the God Man_) _Christ
Jesus_. In this human nature he is the perfection of beauty; the Holy
Spirit formed it, the Father provided it, and the eternal Son of God
appeared in it as our Day’s Man. It was filled with the Holy Ghost—it
was a sacred Temple, the residence of Deity. _The word was made
flesh_—_the word was God_. All things were made by him. This human
nature was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separated from sinners; and
such an High Priest became us. And by virtue of the Union of the
Godhead; this dear God-Man is the Beloved of the whole Church.
If we consider him in his Mediatorial capacity, sustaining his glorious
offices, as Prophet, Priest, and King. These offices no doubt he refers
to when he said I am the way, and the truth, and the life; to these he
was called. These he executes in the church, and in the hearts of all
believers. He enlightens us as a Prophet, he intercedes as a Priest, and
he reigns as a King. He teaches the way to heaven as a Prophet, he opens
the way as a Priest, and he brings into the way as a King. He preached
glad tidings to the meek as a Prophet, he binds up the broken-hearted as
a Priest, and he opens the prison doors as a king. These glorious
offices he exercises in the souls of his children, and viwing him
faithful in his house, he is truly lovely to his church. If we view him
in his glorious titles, it appears the Holy Ghost has ransacked all the
endearing ties of nature, and all the lovely instances of his creative
power, to set him forth—the affectionate Husband, the constant Friend,
the skilful Physician, the tender Father, the able Counsellor, the
sympathizing Mother and Nurse, the wise Law-giver, the lovely Prince | 2,187.05089 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.1317040 | 2,842 | 16 |
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pervading egotism, to be attractive in a book--in which capacity they
will hold their own with such memorable local effusions as IRVING and
PAULDING'S _Salmagundi_, HALLECK'S _Croakers_, and MITCHELL'S
_Lorgnette_."--_Literary World._
"We are glad to see these brilliant 'Sketches of American Society,'
incorporated into an elegant and portable volume, for they are
unquestionably the most veritable pictures of certain classes of
New-York society that have been written; we do not except even the
equally graphic portraits of 'The Lorgnette.' The great charm of Mr.
Bristed's sketches is the life-like characters he introduces as
illustrations of the varied phases of American society. These sketches
have been read with avidity as they appeared in the serial form, and
will doubtless form an inseparable travelling companion to our tourists
in their present compact shape, for they possess the interest of a
novel, with the piquancy and truthfulness of a personal
narrative."--MORRIS & WILLIS'S _Home Journal_.
"We must say that this little volume contains some true and vivid
sketches of men and manners, and that, notwithstanding its tone of
levity, it has within it a good moral. The moral is applicable in all
highly-civilized communities, and is simply this--when fashion is made
the _exclusive_ rule of life, one may search in vain for a man or woman
worth more than a moment's passing glance. All that is manly and
intelligent in the one sex, all that is feminine and lovely in the
other, gives place to a tasteless coating clumsily laid over a worthless
substance."--_New-York Albion._
"These sketches are lively, and adorned with characters whose types, we
may safely say whose originals, can be found in New-York in any winter,
and in Saratoga and Newport every summer. Mr. BRISTED'S descriptions of
gay life in those places certainly gave the English readers of _Fraser's
Magazine_ a very truthful and amusing picture of the trifling, bustling
existence of the New-Yorker's whose days and nights are passed in the
struggle for social notoriety. The book might better be styled,
_Germanics_ Sketches of the
Ever-striving-to-let-you-see-that-they-the-Upper-Ten-Thousand-are."--_New-York
Courier and Enquirer._
"These sketches contain much truthful sarcasm and quiet stabs at
vulgarism among the 'upper ten,' all under the garb of pictures of
American society in New-York, or 'Sketches of American Society,' as they
were called. Written in a rapid and pleasing style, and by a man who had
few prejudices against the Americans, they may be considered a pretty
fair expose of the ridiculous follies of the American people, while at
the same time their many excellent qualities are placed prominently
before the reader."--_Rough Notes._
Published by STRINGER & TOWNSEND, 222 Broadway, N. Y.
[Illustration: HENRIETTE SONTAG, COUNTESS DE ROSSI.]
LIFE
OF
HENRIETTE SONTAG,
COUNTESS DE ROSSI.
WITH
INTERESTING SKETCHES
BY
SCUDO, HECTOR BERLIOZ, LOUIS BOERNE, ADOLPHE ADAM,
MARIE AYCARD, JULIE DE MARGUERITTE, PRINCE
PUCKLER-MUSKAU, AND THEOPHILE GAUTIER.
NEW YORK:
STRINGER & TOWNSEND, 222 BROADWAY.
1852.
ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by
STRINGER AND TOWNSEND,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of
New York.
_B. CRAIGHEAD, Printer and Stereotyper,
53 Vesey Street._
CONTENTS.
LIFE OF THE COUNTESS DE ROSSI, 5
PEN AND INK PORTRAIT, BY _Marie Aycard_, 37
HENRIETTE SONTAG, BY _M. Scudo_, 39
HENRIETTE SONTAG IN FRANCFORT, BY _Louis Boerne_, 46
PAST AND PRESENT, BY _Theophile Gautier_, 51
HOW SONTAG SINGS, BY _Hector Berlioz_, 53
THE PRIMA DONNA AND THE COUNTESS, BY " " 53
IS IT THE MOTHER OR THE DAUGHTER? BY _Adolphe Adam_, 57
SOUVENIR OF THE OPERA, BY _Julie de Margueritte_, 59
SONTAG AND THE EMPEROR OF RUSSIA, BY _Prince Puckler-Muskau_, 64
MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS DE ROSSI.
WHETHER in rapid memoir or in ponderous biography, the life-sketcher or
the chronicler must always fain behold the object before him as a model
endowed not only with surpassing moral and physical beauties, but with
that individuality of genius, and that peculiar destiny, which separate
the few from the crowd. To the readers remains the duty of acting as
those did who were wont to attend the triumphs of Roman conquerors, and
urge the deduction of their mistakes and misdeeds--or, as the "Satanic
advocate" in the process of canonization in the Pope's court, show how
much more of a sinner than of a saint was the mortal about to pass into
the heaven of human invention. Although, thus, well aware of how much
our trifling office here is prone to exaggeration, we feel that there is
no fear of transgressing in the present case, and that the readers will
rather feel how much below than above the truth we remain.
The Countess Rossi is as clearly fitted to be the heroine of a memoir of
real life, as she is of being the heroine of a lyrical drama on the
fictive scene. Those who will read this sketch will, we think, behold in
her all the characteristics of a special and elevated nature--one marked
amongst mankind, framed for its admiration and for its model. We have
the striking attributes of a special nature manifest and effulgent even
in infancy; we see them defying the obstacles of fortune, and constantly
rising in power. We behold them in their utmost effulgence--first on the
stage, and next in the highest regions of society, and, ultimately,
tried by adversity. From beginning to end, the power and the effulgence
remain ever the same, fitted for all positions: wherever it is placed,
it continues unsullied and undiminished.
Having set forth our claims to the attention of those to whom we address
ourselves, we shall now rapidly trace the outline of the singularly
eventful career of Countess Rossi. The interest its moving incidents, so
singularly varied, have always inspired, are now increased tenfold by new
features, totally unparalleled in the history of the lyrical stage. To
behold this distinguished lady return to the stage, after enjoying
undisturbed for many years, and in the most exalted rank, the love and
esteem of the greatest personages of Europe, is a truly singular and
affecting event; but to behold her return, after this lapse of time,
with all her powers not only unimpaired, but improved by taste, study,
and observation, is an event without an example. If, to take the exact
measure of this phenomenon by comparison, we turn to the very few who
were her contemporaries on the stage, what do we behold? If asked how so
extraordinary a fact happens to exist, those who have had the good
fortune to know the Countess Rossi will readily explain it. The first
reason and first cause are, that this lady possesses a remarkably well
regulated mind--gentle in all things, ever resigned, and possessed of
unruffled patience; and her feelings, controlled by the most virtuous
sense of right, have never been agitated by those passions which most of
all beset stages and courts, and are the most insidious and dangerous
assailants of those who are the constant objects of adoration.
To these might be added other aiding causes, but of no little potency.
For the sake of brevity, we shall only mention two: the first is, that
the Countess Rossi's voice is a pure and perfect soprano, of the highest
register, from the first settlement of her voices--it is "to the manner
born." Thus she has never been compelled to superadd to her studies of
vocal science those efforts by which most of the greatest vocalists have
been obliged to transmute their contralto or mezzo soprano tones, to
polish their guttural or husky tones, and--almost all of them--extend
artificially their register. On the other hand, during her long
secession from the stage, the love of musical art has always remained
predominant, and its science been constantly cultivated, without the
necessity of taxing her powers, without the exhausting exertions of
other singers; whilst her style of singing is that of the high classical
Italian school, the only one that nurses the voice, whilst it displays
all its melodic power. Had not the Countess Rossi yielded up the German
school--had she not resorted to the Italian school to modify her
singing--as her great countryman Mozart did, to modify the form his
inspirations assumed--her voice would no doubt have been injured, and
she would have lost that marvellous power of overflowing richness of
embellishment, requiring purity of tone, agility, and elegance, in which
she is unquestionably unrivalled.
HENRIETTE SONTAG was born of a respectable family of artists, of limited
means, at Coblentz, Kingdom of Prussia. The old saying of the poet,
"_nascitur, non fit_," is singularly | 2,187.151744 |
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOLUME 93.
AUGUST 6, 1887.
* * * * *
ALL IN PLAY.
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
Now that your own particular theatrical adviser and follower, Mr. NIBBS,
has left London for a trip abroad, I venture to address you on matters
dramatic. I am the more desirous of so doing because, although the
Season is nearly over, two very important additions have been made to
the London playhouse programme--two additions that have hitherto escaped
your eagle glance. I refer, Sir, to _The Doctor_ at the Globe, and _The
Colonel_ at the Comedy--both from the pen of a gentleman who (while I am
writing this in London) is partaking of the waters at Royat. Mr. BURNAND
is to be congratulated upon the success that has attended both
productions. I had heard rumours that _The Doctor_ had found some
difficulty in establishing himself (or rather herself, because I am
talking of a lady) satisfactorily in Newcastle Street, Strand. It was
said that she required practice, but when I attended her consulting-room
the other evening, I found the theatre full of patients, who were
undergoing a treatment that may be described (without any particular
reference to marriages or "the United States") as "a merry cure." I was
accompanied by a young gentleman fresh from school, and at first felt
some alarm on his account, as his appreciation of the witty dialogue
with which the piece abounds was so intense that he threatened more than
once to die of laughing.
[Illustration: "How happy could he be with either."]
I have never seen a play "go" better--rarely so well. The heroine--the
"_Doctoresse_"--was played with much effect and discretion by Miss
ENSON, a lady for whom I prophesy a bright future. Mr. PENLEY was
excellent in a part that fitted him to perfection. Both Miss VICTOR, as
a "strong woman," and Mr. HILL, as--well, himself,--kept the pit in
roars. The piece is more than a farce. The first two Acts are certainly
farcical, but there is a touch of pathos in the last scene which reminds
one that there is a close relationship between smiles and tears. And
here let me note that the company in the private boxes, even when most
heartily laughing, were still in tiers. As a rule the Doctor is not a
popular person, but at the Globe she is sure to be always welcome. Any
one suffering from that very distressing and prevalent malady, "the
Doleful Dumps," cannot do better than go to Newcastle Street for a
speedy cure.
The _Colonel_ at the Comedy is equally at home, and, on the occasion of
his revival, was received with enthusiasm. Mr. BRUCE has succeeded Mr.
COGHLAN in the title _role_, and plays just as well as his predecessor.
Mr. HERBERT is the original _Forester_, and the rest of the _dramatis
personae_ are worthy of the applause bestowed upon them. To judge from
the laughter that followed every attack upon the aesthetic fad, the
"Greenery Yallery Gallery" is as much to the front as ever--a fact, by
the way, that was amply demonstrated at the _Soiree_ of the Royal
Academy, where "passionate Brompton" was numerously represented.
[Illustration: The Colonel.]
_The Bells of Hazlemere_ seem to be ringing in large audiences at the
Adelphi, although the piece is not violently novel in its plot or
characters. Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE ceases to die "every evening" at the end
of this week at the Opera Comique until November. I peeped in, a few
days since, just before the last scene of _As in a Looking-Glass_, and
found the talented lady on the point of committing her nightly suicide.
Somehow I missed the commencement of the self-murder, and thus could not
satisfactorily account for her dying until I noticed that a double-bass
was moaning piteously. Possibly this double-bass made Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE
wish to die--it certainly created the same desire on my part. Believe
me, yours sincerely,
ONE WHO HAS GONE TO PIECES.
* * * * *
OUR EXCHANGE AND MART.
HOLIDAY INQUIRIES.
ELIGIBLE CONTINENTAL TRAVELLING COMPANION.--A D.C.L., B.M., and R.S.V.P.
of an Irish University, is desirous of meeting with one or two Young
English Dukes who contemplating, as a preliminary to their taking their
seats in the House of Lords, passing a season at Monaco, would consider
the advertiser's society and personal charge, together with his
acquaintance with a system of his own calculated to realise a
substantial financial profit from any lengthened stay in the locality,
an equivalent for the payment of his hotel, travelling, and other
incidental expenses. Highest references given and expected. Apply to
"MASTER OF ARTS." Blindhooky. County Cork.
* * * * *
INVALID OUTING. EXCEPTIONAL ADVANTAGES.--A confirmed Invalid, formerly
an active member of the Alpine Club, who has temporarily lost the use of
his legs, and has in consequence hired a Steam-traction engine attached
to which, in a bath-chair, he proposes making a prolonged excursion
through the most mountainous districts of Wales, is anxious to meet with
five other paralytics who will join him in his contemplated undertaking,
and bear a portion of the expense. As he will take in tow two furniture
vans containing respectively a Cottage-Hospital and a Turkish-bath, and
be accompanied by three doctors, and a German Band, it is scarcely
necessary for him to point out that the details of the trip will be
carried out with a due regard to the necessities of health and
recreation. While the fact that a highly respectable firm of Solicitors
will join him _en route_, will be a guarantee that any vexatious
litigation instituted against him by local boroughs for the crushing and
otherwise damaging their gas and water-mains, or running into their
lamp-posts will, if it occur, be jealously watched and effectually dealt
with. In the not unforeseen, though by no means expected event of the
Traction Engine becoming by some accident permanently wedged in and
unable to move from some inaccessible pass, it is understood that the
party shall separate, and that each member shall be at liberty to return
home by any _route_ he may select for himself as most convenient and
available for the purpose. For all further particulars apply to X. X.
X., Struggle-on-the-Limp, Lame End, Beds.
* * * * *
LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. RARE OPPORTUNITY.--An impecunious Nobleman, whose
income has been seriously reduced owing to the prevailing agricultural
depression, would be willing to let his Family Mansion to a considerate
tenant at a comparatively low rental. As half the furniture has been
seized under a distress-warrant, and as a man in possession is
permanently installed, under a bill of sale, in charge of the rest, a
recluse of aesthetic tastes, to whom a series of rooms entirely devoid of
furniture would present a distinct attraction, and who would find a
little friendly social intercourse not an altogether disagreeable
experience, might discover in the above an eligible opportunity. Some
excellent fishing can be had on the sly in the small hours of the
morning by dodging the local Middle-man to whom it has been let. Capital
rat-shooting over nearly an eighth of an acre of wild farm-yard
buildings. Address, "MARQUIS." Spillover. Herts.
* * * * *
THE BEST PART OF HALF A PACK OF HOUNDS FOR SALE.--A Midland County
Squire, who, through having come into a Suburban Omnibus business, is
about to relinquish his | 2,187.249514 |
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Italics are indicated by _underscores_.
Hyphenation inconsistencies: both Bald-headed and Baldheaded are
used.
The
Theatrical Primer
BY
HAROLD ACTON VIVIAN
_Illustrations by
FRANCIS P. SAGERSON_
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
H. A. VIVIAN
COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
_The Theatrical
Primer_
The Theatrical Primer
1
Here, children, is a Theatre. A Theatre is a big Playhouse where actors
Act--sometimes. It is a pretty building, is it Not? It costs two big
Dollars to get into a Theatre but People are always in a Great Hurry to
get out. This is right, as it Helps the actors to act. When you go to a
theatre you should always Cry as Loud and as Long as you can. It gives
great Pleasure to all the People, and makes your Mother feel Good.
2
Oh, see the Press Agent! Is he not a wonderful Thing? Next to the
Theatre, he is the most Important Thing in the Business. He is much
Greater than the Manager, but he does not get so much Money. The Press
Agent always tells the Truth, and loves to give away Free Tickets. Do
not offer him a Drink or a Cigar, because he will surely refuse, and
then You will feel Badly.
3
The Man looks Anxious. He is a Manager, and he thinks the Treasurer
is Swiping his Money. Fie on the Treasurer! The Poor Manager has so
little money that He can only take one Drink at a Time. Ask the Manager
for tickets. He will pay for them out of his own Pocket. He is such a
Charitable man. Try to be like the Manager, little children, and when
you grow Up, you will always be without Money. Money is a great Curse.
4
This is a Chappie. No, it is not an animal; it is a human Being.
Its real name is E. Z. Thing. What do you think the Chappie is Good
for--Nothing? Oh, fie, it is surely good for Something. Yes; it is
Good to buy suppers for Chorus Girls. Sometimes it buys Flowers Also,
and has them Charged to Papa. Papa is sometimes a Chappie himself. That
is right; yell "Chappie" as Loud as you can. It is not Vulgar to Yell
on the Street, and the man likes to be called by such a nice name.
5
Here we see an Actor. No; do not Touch him or you will soil his
Clothes. Are not his Clothes wonderful? And just Think, they are all
Paid for! He wears his Hair long because the Barber shops are Closed
on Sunday. He is Very busy all the week, you know. He has to walk up
and down Broadway several Times every day. Actors are very Nice men.
They always say good Things about other Actors, and never talk of
Themselves. No; none of them wears corsets.
6
Isn't that dog Tiny? It's the Leading lady's pet Poodle. Oh, see how
nicely it snaps at Everything! The Leading lady has Taught it to do
that; Snaps are right in her line. Everyone loves the Little Dog.
It is so Gentle and Loving. Kick the Dog in the Ribs, Johnny. It
will please the lady if you do--and the Dog--and the Manager. See the
Manager laugh.
7
Here we see a Lobster. The Lobster is going to Buy a Ticket from the
Speculator. Will they let the Lobster into the Theatre? Oh, I guess
Yes. See; the Speculator has put the Money in his Pocket. Will he
give the Treasurer some of the Dough? Perhaps; if he is a very Kind
Speculator. How fortunate for the Speculator that there are Lobsters.
8
Do you see the Clever Usher? He has Sold two seats in the Front Row.
What will he do when the man who Bought the Seats at the box office
comes in? He will say that there is a Mistake, and the Man will sit in
the Sixth Row. The Man is from the Country. All ushers are clever. They
need the Money to buy clean Shirts.
9
Come, children, we will Leave now. The last Act is not Over, but the
Audience would sooner see your Clothes than the Play. Run out in the
Aisle and make a Noise. The People will be glad; they are Tired and do
not want to hear the rest of the Play. People do not go to the Theatre
to Hear the Play. What a foolish idea!
10
See the Leading Lady. She is the Greatest Actress in the World. Oh,
no; she does Not think so. She is Modest and Unassuming. She does not
like the Star Dressing Room, but the Manager makes her take it. What
a Cruel Manager! Poor Lady, she has to wear her nice stage Clothes on
the Street. Do not Rubber at her. She does not Like being Rubbered
at. How fond the Leading Lady is of the Leading Man! Last night she
embraced him so Fervently that the Powder came off Her Arms on his
Coat. He likes such Things. They are marks of Affection.
11
Here is a Programme. Is it not a Pretty Book? What lovely pictures of
Corsets and False Teeth. Do not look for Cast of the Play. We will find
that Next Week. The Advertisements are much More Interesting. It would
be Foolish to Print the Cast in Large type, because then We could See
it. How Artistic is the Cover of the Programme! Does it not remind you
of the Delirium Tremens?
12
Oh, see; there is a Chorus Girl. What a beautiful Complexion she has.
And what very White Shoulders. No; of course she cannot sing. But what
a cunning Wink she is making at her Baldheaded Father in the Front Row.
She will meet Him after the Show and take him Riding in her Automobile.
Then they will have Supper in a lovely Restaurant. Father will pay for
the Supper, just like he pays for the Auto. Is he not a good Father to
the Poor Hard-working Chorus Girl? The Chorus Girl is a much better
actress than the Leading Lady, but she is not jealous of the Leading
Lady's success. Not a bit.
13
What a funny little Man that is. He is a Big part of the Syndicate. He
is a very Big Bug, and so kind to Actors. He just Loves to Pay them
Money. But he does Not like to make them work Hard. Oh, No; they just
do what They want to. By and By they Will get too old to Work, and then
he will Buy them a House to live in. All the other Managers love the
Big Bug, because he does not try to Hog the Whole thing.
14
Do you see the Man with the Bald Head in the Second Row? He is a Great
Critic. He gets a Million Dollars for every day that He works. He
Knows all About every Show that will Ever be written. He is good to
the Actors, and will tell Them how to Act Properly. The Actors and
Actresses just Love to read what he Writes. When you Grow up, little
Children, you should try and be Critics, and when you Die you will go
to a place where there are lots of Actors, and they will Give you a
Hot time.
15
Here we have the Little Comedienne. Isn't she the Real Thing? Only
think, she used to be in the Chorus! But she had a very beautiful
Voice, and now she owns the Whole Show. The Police will not let You
walk on the same side of the Street with Her, and the Manager says
no one Else in the Company must Give Pictures to the Papers. She is
very Kind to the Others, and they love her. By and By she will be a
Has-been, and then the other girls will send her Part of their Salary.
It always pays to be Kind, little Children.
16
What do we see here? Oh, this is a Playwright. He has Written a Play.
Will the Manager accept the Play? Oh, no; the Manager could not do
that. It is a Good play, but the Playwright Has not Got a Reputation.
If he should Kill a man he would get a Reputation and then his Play
would be accepted. Perhaps he will go to England and Sell the Play.
Then it will be a Great Success, and the Cruel Manager will be sorry
because he has Missed a chance to Make Money.
17
This is another Playwright. He is a very successful one Because he
Works very Hard. He writes a Dozen plays every year. If one is Good he
Gets Paid for All the rest. Of course he has a Reputation. He made it
by Knitting Socks.
18
What a Large Chest that man has. Yes; he is a Star. He is the only
actor who can Play Hamlet. Did you Know that he Owns a Large part of
Broadway? What is he Saying? He says that he is Not a great Actor. He
thinks the Juvenile plays his Part very Well. He does not Like to
be Applauded. Did he say he got a Hundred Dollars a week? That must
be a Mistake. All stars get at Least Five Hundred. Modesty is a great
virtue, Children. You should Try and be as Modest as the Star.
19
Here we have a Four Hundredth Performance. How young it looks. Has the
Play run a Year? Oh, dear, No. But then there are Matinees, you know.
And Rehearsals. The Piece has played Four Hundred Times. The Press
Agent and the Manager say so. Of Course they ought to Know, and They
always tell the Truth. What pretty Souvenirs! They are Real Gold and
cost More than the Theatre Tickets. How Charitable of the Management to
give them Away.
20
See the Fat Policeman. He walks right past the Doorkeeper. Has he got a
Ticket? No, he has a shield. Why do they Let him in Free? Because he is
a Policeman. Will he make the standees, settees? Of course not. He will
Watch the Show, and if he Likes it He will ask for Two tickets. Will he
pay for them? Don't ask foolish questions, you silly boy.
21
Watch the Pretty lady buy two Fifty-cent tickets. She wants to know
if they are Down stairs. No, they are in the Gallery. In the front
row? Yes. Has the man nothing further in Front? she asks. The Poor
lady would like them in the Centre. Yes, those would do. But are they
on the Aisle? No, there is no Centre Aisle. She says it is not a nice
Theatre, but she Supposes she Must take the Tickets. Are they for
Thursday night? Yes. Oh, that is too bad. She is going to Play cards
on Thursday night, and she wants the Tickets for Friday night. Now she
Will pay for them. How careful she is with her money! She has opened
Her little Bag, and Taken out her Pocket book. Now she has closed the
Bag. She has taken a Two-Dollar Bill out of the Pocket book and laid
it down. She opens the Bag and puts the pocket book back. There; she
has Closed the bag. Now she has got the Tickets. She has opened the Bag
again and put the Tickets inside. The Bag is Closed again now. The man
is Giving her her change. She has opened the Bag, taken out the Pocket
book, closed the Bag, opened the Pocket book, put in the change,
closed the Pocket book, opened the Bag, put in the Pocket book, and
Closed the Bag. How quickly she does not do it. Are there other People
waiting to buy seats? Oh, a few Dozen.
22
Here we have a Box party. Isn't it nice of Them to Come Late, that
Many people can see Them? No, Johnny, they Do not come to Show off
Their clothes. How happy they are. How Mirthful. You can hear them
laugh right Across the Theatre. The Girl in the pink crêpe de Chine
is saying that Pickles do Not Agree with her. Isn't that too bad? The
man is telling her a Story. Pretty soon they Will Laugh out Loud again.
See, the Lovely lady with The Charming manners is looking through her
opera glasses at a Man in the Front Row. Does she Know him? Of course
not, or she wouldn't look at him. When the Curtain goes down, the Men
will Go out on Important Business Matters and the Women will stroll up
and down so That other Women can See their Dresses. Do not try to Watch
the Play, children. The Box party is much more fun.
23
What is this? A Matinée Idol. What a Meek man he is. He says he is Not
handsome. That is not True. The Girls all adore him. How careless he is
with his Clothes. His Pants have not been Pressed in Fifteen minutes.
He is going to Have his picture taken. He had some Taken yesterday, but
They did not Do him Justice. Is the Idol married? Hist! children, some
things are Sacred. Whose little boy is that Following him? That is a
Messenger boy; he reminds the Idol of His dates.
24
Let us steal into the dressing room. See what a cute little place It
is. The leading Juvenile and the Comedian dress here. They like a small
room; it is So easy to make a quick change in One. The management
wanted to Make the Dressing room Larger but there was Not enough
lumber. See; in his hurry, the Actor has left a pair of shoes in Front
of that Chair. Put them behind the Trunk, Clara, and the Actor will
thank you.
25
This is a stick of Grease paint. The Leading lady uses it to Make
herself look beautiful. In this way she can make many dates. The
leading lady is very fond of Dates. Her friends say she always has
dates for Supper. Hold the Grease paint in the Gas flame, Johnny, and
see it Fizzle. Now rub the wet paint on the Looking Glass. Put some in
the Powder box. The Leading lady always uses powder after Paint; now
she can Use both together. Let us hide the Grease paint in the Slipper.
The leading lady will Think it a Great joke.
26
Here we have the Property man. He is making a Ship. Will the ship go?
No. But it will _look_ Real. What a Dusty room this is. Let's dust the
Things off and arrange them. How glad the Property man will be To-night
when he has to Get ready for the First act in a hurry. Oh, here is the
property Man back again. Clara, help Johnny up! The Property man Wears
pointed Shoes.
27
See the Man who was once a Great Actor! He says he is too Good for the
Managers now. His was a Great Hamlet. Does he mean the hamlet where
he was Born? Why does he Not go to work? He will soon Go to work his
friends. He has a very good memory. He remembers ----. Some time,
children, we will take a Month off, and then He will tell us What he
remembers.
28
Look at the Man in the Front row. He has a Clean shave on the back of
his Head. See how hard he laughs. Does he enjoy the jokes? No; he has
seen the Show seven times. What large opera glasses he has. Yes, he
is very short-sighted. The show is a Burlesque. The Soubrette winks
at him. That is because he is Old--and Easy. Will he go on to a Club
after the Show? No; he will go on a Bat.
29
Here we have the Soubrette. No; she is not seventy-seven, she is only
seventeen. Her father was a Blacksmith, and she is very clever with the
Hammer herself. Hasn't she a lovely Shape? It is all her own, too. The
Bill says she Paid twenty-five Dollars for it. She is talking to the
chorus girl. She says she had a Lobster at dinner. Soubrettes are very
Fond of Lobsters. There is an Old saying: "Wherever the Soubrette is,
there will the Lobsters be found also."
30
The programme says the Ushers must not be Tipped. It hurts an usher's
Feelings to be Given money. If we were to give an usher Money he would
give up his Job. You would not Like to see the poor man out of a Job,
would you? All his wants Are provided for by the Management and he
Has no need of money. He gets a very Fat salary and his Family live
in Elegance. How kind of the management to Treat the usher so well!
Of course we will not give the usher money as the Management does not
wish us to. It would be cruel, and Besides we would get very little in
Return.
31
Let us listen to the Manager talking to the actor. The Manager says it
is a fine day. That is not so, for it is Raining. The Actor says he
would Like his Salary. Why does the Manager laugh and say next Tuesday?
The actor tells the manager to go to Yuma, Arizona. Will the manager
go? No, but the Actor will soon begin Counting railroad Neckwear.
32
Children, observe the Bouncer. He is a kind and Gentle man, and carries
a Stick to protect Himself. He is very weak. Clara, yell as loud as
you can. Now, Johnny, whistle on Your fingers. Will the Bouncer tell
you to Stop? Bang! The hospital is just round the Corner. The children
will Come again and see the rest of the Show.
33
Here we see a Poster. The poster says there are Three hundred people
on the Stage. Are there three hundred people on the Stage? Oh! no; not
to-night. One of the Ladies is sick, and Two hundred of the Others are
nursing her. Call the Manager a Liar, Johnny. There! Now we know why
the manager Carries a Cane.
34
Oh! see the Lady crying. She is very Young to be so Tearful. She is a
Matinée girl. Why does she Cry? Is it because the Lovely heroine is in
Distress? No; it is because the Leading man has had His hair cut. She
wanted a Lock of his Lovely hair to Stuff a cushion With. What will she
Do now? She will have to go to Another theatre until the Hair grows
again.
35
This is a Vaudeville joke. How tired it Looks! Yes, it is Worn out.
It has been doing Two a day for Nineteen Years. Once it was nearly
Murdered by a Mean audience. Luckily it Changed its disguise. Will it
ever Die? No; it will Get a Shave and a New disguise, and will go on
working forever. How cruel to treat a good Joke so. What is the name of
the Joke? It is the Mother-in-law joke.
36
Oh, see the Hat. It is a Stovepipe hat, and Belongs to the Manager.
That is, he Wore it until last night. Now he will Have to buy Another
hat. But this hat is good. It Cost Five dollars, and has been Worn
only a Month. Yes, children, but there are other Points about the hat
besides Wear. The size must be considered. Last night a great star,
whom the Manager had Discovered, made a Hit. The Manager's head is
Bigger now, and he must Have a new Hat. Let us take this one and put a
Brick in It. Then when some other manager Cops the Star this manager
can Kick the Hat.
37
Here we have the leading Lady's gown. It cost one Hundred and eighty
Dollars. The leading lady Said so. How pretty and Fluffy it is. Is the
Fluff chiffon or Organdie? The Leading Lady says it is French chiffon,
but the Chorus Girls say it is Organdie from an old Summer gown. How
mean of the Chorus girls! How economic of the Leading lady! Johnny,
tread on the train of the Gown, and we can all see the Fireworks.
38
Are you Cold, children? See, the Snow is Falling. It is very Realistic,
this Snow. It looks like the Real thing, and Makes you shiver. Do not
be Afraid, we will not Freeze to Death. The show is a Frost, but the
Manager is hot. The Snow is made from the Passes taken in last night.
It will not Hurt you. If the Snow keeps up it will be so cold the Poor
ghost will not Be able to Walk. Let us Pray that the Snow will Stop, so
the Hungry actors may see the Ghost walk.
39
Is this a New kind of Music? No; it is a Baby crying. How kind of its
Mother to bring it Out on a Night like this. Babies should Always be
brought to the Theatre. They do so much to Amuse an audience. This is
a very Noisy baby. Perhaps it has Ideas about the Show. That's right,
Harry; get out Your bean shooter and Hit the Baby on the Nut. That will
amuse the Child and perhaps it will Sing for us. If the Mother were
not so big we would Soak her, too.
40
Here we have a Real sword. It is Carried by the Hero. He is a Brave
man, and the sword is very Sharp. Johnny, try and Shave Harry with the
Sword. Try hard! Now Clara, get a Mop, and wipe Up the Blood before the
Stage manager returns. Johnny, hit Harry on the Head with a Hammer. He
should not Make so Much noise. Little children should be Seen and not
Heard. Stick him in the Ribs with the sword.
41
This Man is the Man who has seen the Show. Are you not glad that it
is raining, so that you can Hear him Swear? No; he did not have an
Umbrella when he went in, but he has one Now. He Found it. He is saying
that the Show was Rotten. That is because the Girl who sat next to
him got Mad when he Squeezed her Hand when it was Dark. Of course he
Thought he was Squeezing his wife's hand. Always squeeze hands when You
go to the theatre. It will keep you Warm.
42
How pompous is the Orchestra leader! Do you notice his white gloves?
How they add to his appearance. Perhaps his appearance needs adding to.
Watch him lean over the footlights. See the funny little bald spot on
his head. How commanding he is; all the musicians are afraid of him he
is so fierce. But why the bald spot? S-h-h-h, children, that is where
his little wife pulled the hair out last night.
43
Shades of Napoleon, what have we here? Can you not Guess? Look very
carefully. Ah, it is the uniform that The actor wears. What a shame!
The beautiful Silk that we saw from the Audience last night has All
been taken off and Turkey-red put on Instead. And the silver braid!
Somebody must have Stolen it and put Common rope with Silver paper
round it in Its place. Johnny, run quickly and Get the scissors and we
will Cut off all this make-believe Finery so that the Actor can put on
the Real thing more easily. When the Actor comes he will give Us his
blessing for What we have done.
44
Let us get a Bag of Peanuts. Eat all you want to, children. They will
make you grow. Throw the shells on the floor, and then Step on them.
What a Pretty noise they make! See who can hit the Bald-headed man with
a Peanut. Now the Man is mad. How strange.
45
Let us listen to the actor Make a speech. He is a Great actor, and will
Make a Great Speech. He says he Thanks us for our Kindness. Perhaps he
will lend us a Dollar. He says New York is the Only place. That is
because the hens had stopped laying before he got to Philadelphia. What
a Happy expression the Actor wears, and How glad he is To see us. If we
do Not applaud the Rest of the Piece he will say that We are a lot of
Slobs. But there are Other Actors in the show Besides this one. Yes;
one of them Wrote the Speech.
46
This is the professional début of the Great amateur. She is a Pretty
girl, and Her friends say she is very, Very clever. How Gracefully she
Bows. Just like a Subway derrick. Her voice is like a Bell. Johnny, do
you Remember the Bells on the Cows up country? You naughty boy, she
does Not resemble the Cow! See; she has just come in out of the Rain.
She says it is Bitt-e-r cold. She lays her Wraps before the Fire. Why
does she not Shut the Window? Now she is going Out again. But why does
she leave her Wraps behind? Perhaps she is going to Commit Suicide. In
the Morning, when she sees the Papers, she will wish she Had. The world
is very C-r-u-e-l. So are the Other papers.
47
Here we have the House manager. He says he Is being robbed. While he
is in Business, he will not be lonely if that is true. He is counting
up with the Show Manager. The Show manager also says he is being
robbed. Why don't they go To the Police? The Show manager says there
Were Nineteen tickets in the Box. The house manager says there were
only Seventeen. One of the men is Lying; which one is it? Let us count
the tickets and See. Oh! there are eighteen. Then they were both lying.
Well, they are both Managers.
48
Now we see the Heavy lady. The manager says she is a Light weight.
He calls her that Because she has asked For her Salary Twice in Two
days. Will she get her Salary? No; we do not think she will. To-night
she will do a Shrieking stunt on the stage. To-morrow she will Do a
serio-comic on the Hotel man, and then she will Have a walking part all
the way back to Broadway.
49
Here we have the First-nighter. He comes to the First performance
always. The fifth row Back for his. The manager Knows him. He knows
all the actors and Calls them by their first names. He would like to
belong to the Lambs' Club. After the Show is over he will tell the
Manager, confidentially, just what he thinks about it. The Manager
will listen very carefully and then Forget. Managers have excellent
forgetories. But no Play ever succeeds unless it has the approbation of
the first Nighter. One of them Told me that, confidentially, so it must
be so.
50
The Table is Loaded. There is a real Fowl and a Roast. It is a Banquet
scene. How the actors will enjoy a square meal; they will Think they
have just got their back Salaries. Listen; the leading man says
it is his Birthday feast. He has a Birthday every night and twice
on Saturday. Now he is carving the fowl. Oh! Oh! it is a Pasteboard
chicken! The roast is all wood and paint. But the wine; that looks
very real. Oh, woe! the wine is Naught but Cold tea! How cruel of the
manager to Fool the actors so. The Table is loaded, but Not so the
Actors. At least, not at | 2,187.251476 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.2317160 | 1,593 | 25 |
Transcribed from the 1844 edition by David Price, email [email protected].
Many thanks to the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea Libraries,
Local Studies, for allowing their copy to be used for this transcription.
[Picture: Decorative title page]
THE
FORLORN HOPE:
A
STORY
OF
OLD CHELSEA.
BY
Mrs. S. C. HALL.
[Picture: Chelsea from the Thames]
CHELSEA Hospital, or, as the old soldiers prefer to call it, “Chelsea
College,” appears much the same at all seasons of the year; its simple,
dignified, and, if the phrase may be permitted, healthful and useful,
style of architecture, suggests the same ideas, under the hot sun of June
and amid the snows of bleak December; bringing conviction that the
venerable structure is a safe, suitable, comfortable, and happy, as well
as honourable, retreat for the brave men who have so effectually “kept
the foreigner from fooling us.” The simple story I have to tell,
commences with a morning in April, 1838. It was a warm, soft morning, of
the first spring month; the sun shone along the colonnade of “the Royal
College.” Some of the veterans—who, fearing rheumatism more than they
ever feared cold steel or leaden bullet, had kept close quarters all the
winter, in their comfortable nooks up stairs—were now slowly pacing
beside the stately pillars of their own palace, inhaling the refreshing
breeze that crossed the water-garden from the Thames, and talking
cheerfully of the coming summer. Truly the “pensioners” seem, to the
full, aware of their privileges, and of their claims—far less upon our
sympathies than upon our gratitude and respect. The college is THEIRS;
they look, walk, and talk, in perfect and indisputable consciousness that
it is their house, and that those who cross its courts, loiter in its
gardens, or view its halls, chapel, and dormitories, are but
visitors—graciously admitted, and generously instructed by them. And who
will dare to question their right?
[Picture: The Summer House]
The veterans are, as they may well be, proud of their country and their
hospital; they are too natural to disguise the feeling that they love a
good listener; to such they will tell how Madam Gwyn asked the king—the
second Charles—to endow a last earthly home for his brave soldiers; and
how rejoiced she was to have it built at Chelsea, because she was born
there, for that all human souls love the places where they were born!
They point to the tattered flags in the noble hall and sacred chapel, as
if the trophies were actually won by their own hands; they will digress
from them to Sir Christopher Wren, not seeming to know very clearly
whether the great architect or Charles the Second planned the
structure—they are apt to confound Henry the Eighth with the second
James, who presented to their church such splendid communion plate; but
make no mistake at all about Queen Victoria, who came herself to see
them—“God bless her Majesty!” I never met one who was not proud of his
quarters; they praise the freshness and sweetness of the air, the
liberality of the treatment, and point out, with gratitude, their little
gardens which occupy the site of the famous Ranelagh of fashionable
memory, where they can follow their own fancies, cultivating, in their
plots of ground, the flowers, or herbs, or shrubs that please them best;
THE SUMMER-HOUSE, which they say Lord John Russell built for them,
occupies a prominent position there; it was worthy a descendant of the
noble house of Bedford to care for brave soldiers in the evening of their
days. If you have patience, and feel interested in the cheerful
garrulities of age, they will hint that they fear the new embankment of
“The Thames” will still more dry up the land-springs, and injure their
fine old trees. Some can describe the ancient conduit which supplied
Winchester Palace and Beaufort House with water, and point out (if you
will extend your walk so far) the various sites of houses in the
immediate vicinity, where dwelt the great men of old times,—chiefest
among them all, the wise Sir Thomas More, Lord High Chancellor of
England, who lived “hard by,” and had for his near neighbours the Earl of
Essex, the Princess Elizabeth; and, farther down, at Old Brompton, Oliver
Cromwell and Lord Burleigh. But those who would know more than the
pensioners can tell them concerning Chelsea, and its neighbourhood—that
suburb of London most rich in honourable and interesting associations
with the past—may consult good Mr. Faulkner, the accurate and
pains-taking Historian of the district, who lives in a small book-shop
near at hand, flourishing, as he ought to, in the very centre of places
he has so effectually aided to commemorate.
[Picture: Nell Gwyn and Charles]
The story of “Mistress Nelly’s” prayer that an asylum might be provided
for aged veterans, “whose work was done,” rests mainly on tradition; but
there is nothing of improbability about it. Her influence over the
voluptuous monarch,
“Who never said a foolish thing
And never did a wise one,”
was, at one period, unbounded. It was in this instance, at least,
exerted in the cause of mercy and virtue, as well as gratitude; the
College remains a lasting contradiction to the memorable epigram I have
quoted; inasmuch as a “wiser thing” than its foundation, to say nothing
of its justice, is not recorded in the chronicles of the reign of any
British sovereign. Many a victory has been won for these kingdoms by the
knowledge that the maimed soldier will not be a deserted beggar—by the
certainty that honourable “scars” will be healed by other ointment than
that of mere pity! Chelsea and Greenwich are enduring monuments to prove
that a Nation knows how to be grateful. The brave men who pace along
these corridors may “talk o’er their wounds,” and while shouldering their
crutches, to “show how fields were won,” point to the recompense as a
stimulus to younger candidates for glory. Who can sufficiently estimate
the value of this reward? Let us ask what it has done for our country;
but let us ask it on the battle fields, where French eagles were taken:
eagles, a score of which are now the trophies of our triumphs, in the
very halls which the veterans, who won them, tread up and down.
The pensioners—though, as human beings, each may have a distinctive
character—are, to a certain degree, alike; clean and orderly, erect in
their carriage for a much longer period than civilians of equal ages, and
disputing all the encroachments of time, inch by inch—fighting with as
much determination for life as formerly they did for glory. When they
die, they die | 2,187.251756 |
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Produced by Marcia Brooks, Ross Cooling and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at
http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet
Archive/Canadian Libraries)
ON CANADA'S FRONTIER
Sketches
OF HISTORY, SPORT, AND ADVENTURE AND OF THE INDIANS, MISSIONARIES
FUR-TRADERS, AND NEWER SETTLERS OF WESTERN CANADA
BY
JULIAN RALPH
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE
1892
Copyright, 1892, by Harper & Brothers.
_All rights reserved_.
TO
THE PEOPLE OF CANADA
THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR WHO, DURING MANY LONG
JOURNEYS IN THE CANADIAN WEST WAS ALWAYS AND EVERYWHERE TREATED WITH AN
EXTREME FRIENDLINESS TO WHICH HE HERE TESTIFIES BUT WHICH HE CANNOT
EASILY RETURN IN EQUAL MEASURE
PREFACE
If all those into whose hands this book may fall were as well informed
upon the Dominion of Canada as are the people of the United States,
there would not be needed a word of explanation of the title of this
volume. Yet to those who might otherwise infer that what is here related
applies equally to all parts of Canada, it is necessary to explain that
the work deals solely with scenes and phases of life in the newer, and
mainly the western, parts of that country. The great English colony
which stirs the pages of more than two centuries of history has for its
capitals such proud and notable cities as Montreal, Quebec, Toronto,
Halifax, and | 2,187.25255 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.5356540 | 6,230 | 79 |
Produced by Sam W. and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net
WINTERSLOW
ESSAYS AND CHARACTERS
WRITTEN THERE
BY
WILLIAM HAZLITT
[Decoration]
LONDON
GRANT RICHARDS
48 LEICESTER SQUARE
1902
The World's Classics
XXV
THE WORKS OF
WILLIAM HAZLITT--III
WINTERSLOW
ESSAYS AND CHARACTERS
WRITTEN THERE
_These Essays were first published collectively in the year
1839. In 'The World's Classics' they were first published in
1902._
Edinburgh: Printed by T. and A. Constable
The World's Classics
I.
JANE EYRE. By Charlotte Bronte. [_Second Impression._
II.
THE ESSAYS OF ELIA. By Charles Lamb. [_Second Impression._
III.
THE POEMS OF ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 1830-1858. [_Second
Impression._
IV.
THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. By Oliver Goldsmith.
V.
TABLE-TALK: Essays on Men and Manners. By William Hazlitt.
[_Second Impression._
VI.
ESSAYS. By Ralph Waldo Emerson. [_Second Impression._
VII.
THE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN KEATS. [_Second Impression._
VIII.
OLIVER TWIST. By Charles Dickens.
IX.
THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS. By Thomas Ingoldsby. [_Second
Impression._
X.
WUTHERING HEIGHTS. By Emily Bronte.
XI.
ON THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES. By Charles Darwin. [_Second
Impression._
XII.
THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. By John Bunyan.
XIII.
ENGLISH SONGS AND BALLADS. Selected by T. W. H. Crosland.
XIV.
SHIRLEY. By Charlotte Bronte.
XV.
SKETCHES AND ESSAYS. By William Hazlitt.
XVI.
THE POEMS OF ROBERT HERRICK.
XVII.
ROBINSON CRUSOE. By Daniel Defoe.
XVIII.
HOMER'S ILIAD. Translated by Alexander Pope.
XIX.
SARTOR RESARTUS. By Thomas Carlyle.
XX.
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS. By Jonathan Swift.
XXI.
TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION. By Edgar Allan Poe.
XXII.
NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. By Gilbert White.
XXIII.
CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH OPIUM EATER. By T. De Quincey.
XXIV.
BACON'S ESSAYS.
XXV.
WINTERSLOW. By William Hazlitt.
XXVI.
THE SCARLET LETTER. By Nathaniel Hawthorne.
XXVII.
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. By Lord Macaulay.
XXVIII.
HENRY ESMOND. By W. M. Thackeray.
XXIX.
IVANHOE. By Sir Walter Scott.
_Other volumes in preparation._
Pott 8vo. Cloth, 1s. net. Leather, 2s. net.
PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1850
Winterslow is a village of Wiltshire, between Salisbury and Andover,
where my father, during a considerable portion of his life, spent
several months of each year, latterly, at an ancient inn on the Great
Western Road, called Winterslow Hut. One of his chief attractions
hither were the noble woods of Tytherleigh or Tudorleigh, round Norman
Court, the seat of Mr. Baring Wall, M.P., whose proffered kindness to
my father, on a critical occasion, was thoroughly appreciated by the
very sensitiveness which declined its acceptance, and will always be
gratefully remembered by myself. Another feature was Clarendon
Wood--whence the noble family of Clarendon derived their title--famous
besides for the Constitutions signed in the palace which once rose
proudly amongst its stately trees, but of which scarce a vestige
remains. In another direction, within easy distance, gloams
Stonehenge, visited by my father, less perhaps for its historical
associations than for its appeal to the imagination, the upright
stones seeming in the dim twilight, or in the drizzling mist, almost
continuous in the locality, so many spectre-Druids, moaning over the
past, and over their brethren prostrate about them. At no great
distance, in another direction, are the fine pictures of Lord Radnor,
and somewhat further, those of Wilton House. But the chief happiness
was the thorough quiet of the place, the sole interruption of which
was the passage, to and fro, of the London mails. The Hut stands in a
valley, equidistant about a mile from two tolerably high hills, at the
summit of which, on their approach either way, the guards used to blow
forth their admonition to the hostler. The sound, coming through the
clear, pure air, was another agreeable feature in the day,
reminiscentiary of the great city that my father so loved and so
loathed. In olden times, when we lived in the village itself--a mile
up the hill opposite--behind the Hut, Salisbury Plain stretches away
mile after mile of open space--the reminiscence of the metropolis
would be, from time to time, furnished in the pleasantest of ways by
the presence of some London friends; among these, dearly loved and
honoured there, as everywhere else, Charles and Mary Lamb paid us
frequent visits, rambling about all the time, thorough Londoners in a
thoroughly country place, delighted and wondering and wondered at. For
such reasons, and for the other reason, which I mention incidentally,
that Winterslow is my own native place, I have given its name to this
collection of 'Essays and Characters written there'; as, indeed,
practically were very many of his works, for it was there that most of
his thinking was done.
William Hazlitt.
Chelsea, _Jan. 1850_.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. MY FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH POETS 1
II. OF PERSONS ONE WOULD WISH TO HAVE SEEN 24
III. ON PARTY SPIRIT 40
IV. ON THE FEELING OF IMMORTALITY IN YOUTH 45
V. ON PUBLIC OPINION 53
VI. ON PERSONAL IDENTITY 67
VII. MIND AND MOTIVE 82
VIII. ON MEANS AND ENDS 97
IX. MATTER AND MANNER 108
X. ON CONSISTENCY OF OPINION 115
XI. PROJECT FOR A NEW THEORY OF CIVIL AND
CRIMINAL LEGISLATION 130
XII. ON THE CHARACTER OF BURKE 155
XIII. ON THE CHARACTER OF FOX 173
XIV. ON THE CHARACTER OF MR. PITT 185
XV. ON THE CHARACTER OF LORD CHATHAM 191
XVI. BELIEF, WHETHER VOLUNTARY? 196
XVII. A FAREWELL TO ESSAY-WRITING 205
HAZLITT'S ESSAYS
ESSAY I
MY FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH POETS
My father was a Dissenting Minister, at Wem, in Shropshire; and in the
year 1798 (the figures that compose the date are to me like the
'dreaded name of Demogorgon') Mr. Coleridge came to Shrewsbury, to
succeed Mr. Rowe in the spiritual charge of a Unitarian Congregation
there. He did not come till late on the Saturday afternoon before he
was to preach; and Mr. Rowe, who himself went down to the coach, in a
state of anxiety and expectation, to look for the arrival of his
successor, could find no one at all answering the description but a
round-faced man, in a short black coat (like a shooting-jacket) which
hardly seemed to have been made for him, but who seemed to be talking
at a great rate to his fellow passengers. Mr. Rowe had scarce returned
to give an account of his disappointment when the round-faced man in
black entered, and dissipated all doubts on the subject by beginning
to talk. He did not cease while he stayed; nor has he since, that I
know of. He held the good town of Shrewsbury in delightful suspense
for three weeks that he remained there, 'fluttering the _proud
Salopians_, like an eagle in a dove-cote'; and the Welch mountains
that skirt the horizon with their tempestuous confusion, agree to have
heard no such mystic sounds since the days of
'High-born Hoel's harp or soft Llewellyn's lay.'
As we passed along between Wem and Shrewsbury, and I eyed their blue
tops seen through the wintry branches, or the red rustling leaves of
the sturdy oak-trees by the road-side, a sound was in my ears as of a
Syren's song; I was stunned, startled with it, as from deep sleep; but
I had no notion then that I should ever be able to express my
admiration to others in motley imagery or quaint allusion, till the
light of his genius shone into my soul, like the sun's rays glittering
in the puddles of the road. I was at that time dumb, inarticulate,
helpless, like a worm by the way-side, crushed, bleeding, lifeless;
but now, bursting the deadly bands that bound them,
'With Styx nine times round them,'
my ideas float on winged words, and as they expand their plumes, catch
the golden light of other years. My soul has indeed remained in its
original bondage, dark, obscure, with longings infinite and
unsatisfied; my heart, shut up in the prison-house of this rude clay,
has never found, nor will it ever find, a heart to speak to; but that
my understanding also did not remain dumb and brutish, or at length
found a language to express itself, I owe to Coleridge. But this is
not to my purpose.
My father lived ten miles from Shrewsbury, and was in the habit of
exchanging visits with Mr. Rowe, and with Mr. Jenkins of Whitchurch
(nine miles farther on), according to the custom of Dissenting
Ministers in each other's neighbourhood. A line of communication is
thus established, by which the flame of civil and religious liberty is
kept alive, and nourishes its smouldering fire unquenchable, like the
fires in the _Agamemnon_ of AEschylus, placed at different stations,
that waited for ten long years to announce with their blazing pyramids
the destruction of Troy. Coleridge had agreed to come over and see my
father, according to the courtesy of the country, as Mr. Rowe's
probable successor; but in the meantime, I had gone to hear him preach
the Sunday after his arrival. A poet and a philosopher getting up
into a Unitarian pulpit to preach the gospel, was a romance in these
degenerate days, a sort of revival of the primitive spirit of
Christianity, which was not to be resisted.
It was in January of 1798, that I rose one morning before daylight, to
walk ten miles in the mud, to hear this celebrated person preach.
Never, the longest day I have to live, shall I have such another walk
as this cold, raw, comfortless one, in the winter of the year 1798.
_Il y a des impressions que ni le tems ni les circonstances peuvent
effacer. Dusse-je vivre des siecles entiers, le doux tems de ma
jeunesse ne peut renaitre pour moi, ni s'effacer jamais dans ma
memoire._ When I got there, the organ was playing the 100th Psalm, and
when it was done, Mr. Coleridge rose and gave out his text, 'And he
went up into the mountain to pray, HIMSELF, ALONE.' As he gave out
this text, his voice 'rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes,'
and when he came to the two last words, which he pronounced loud,
deep, and distinct, it seemed to me, who was then young, as if the
sounds had echoed from the bottom of the human heart, and as if that
prayer might have floated in solemn silence through the universe. The
idea of St. John came into my mind, 'of one crying in the wilderness,
who had his loins girt about, and whose food was locusts and wild
honey.' The preacher then launched into his subject, like an eagle
dallying with the wind. The sermon was upon peace and war; upon church
and state--not their alliance but their separation--on the spirit of
the world and the spirit of Christianity, not as the same, but as
opposed to one another. He talked of those who had 'inscribed the
cross of Christ on banners dripping with human gore.' He made a
poetical and pastoral excursion--and to show the fatal effects of war,
drew a striking contrast between the simple shepherd-boy, driving his
team afield, or sitting under the hawthorn, piping to his flock, 'as
though he should never be old.' and the same poor country lad,
crimped, kidnapped, brought into town, made drunk at an alehouse,
turned into a wretched drummer-boy, with his hair sticking on end with
powder and pomatum, a long cue at his back, and tricked out in the
loathsome finery of the profession of blood:
'Such were the notes our once-loved poet sung.'
And for myself, I could not have been more delighted if I had heard
the music of the spheres. Poetry and Philosophy had met together.
Truth and Genius had embraced, under the eye and with the sanction of
Religion. This was even beyond my hopes. I returned home well
satisfied. The sun that was still labouring pale and wan through the
sky, obscured by thick mists, seemed an emblem of the _good cause_;
and the cold dank drops of dew, that hung half melted on the beard of
the thistle, had something genial and refreshing in them; for there
was a spirit of hope and youth in all nature, that turned everything
into good. The face of nature had not then the brand of JUS DIVINUM on
it:
'Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.'
On the Tuesday following, the half-inspired speaker came. I was called
down into the room where he was, and went half-hoping, half-afraid. He
received me very graciously, and I listened for a long time without
uttering a word. I did not suffer in his opinion by my silence. 'For
those two hours,' he afterwards was pleased to say, 'he was conversing
with William Hazlitt's forehead!' His appearance was different from
what I had anticipated from seeing him before. At a distance, and in
the dim light of the chapel, there was to me a strange wildness in his
aspect, a dusky obscurity, and I thought him pitted with the
small-pox. His complexion was at that time clear, and even bright--
'As are the children of yon azure sheen.'
His forehead was broad and high, light as if built of ivory, with
large projecting eyebrows, and his eyes rolling beneath them, like a
sea with darkened lustre. 'A certain tender bloom his face
o'erspread,' a purple tinge as we see it in the pale thoughtful
complexions of the Spanish portrait-painters, Murillo and Valasquez.
His mouth was gross, voluptuous, open, eloquent; his chin
good-humoured and round; but his nose, the rudder of the face, the
index of the will, was small, feeble, nothing--like what he has done.
It might seem that the genius of his face as from a height surveyed
and projected him (with sufficient capacity and huge aspiration) into
the world unknown of thought and imagination, with nothing to support
or guide his veering purpose, as if Columbus had launched his
adventurous course for the New World in a scallop, without oars or
compass. So, at least, I comment on it after the event. Coleridge, in
his person, was rather above the common size, inclining to the
corpulent, or like Lord Hamlet,'somewhat fat and pursy.' His hair
(now, alas! grey) was then black and glossy as the raven's, and fell
in smooth masses over his forehead. This long pendulous hair is
peculiar to enthusiasts, to those whose minds tend heavenward; and is
traditionally inseparable (though of a different colour) from the
pictures of Christ. It ought to belong, as a character, to all who
preach _Christ crucified_, and Coleridge was at that time one of
those!
It was curious to observe the contrast between him and my father, who
was a veteran in the cause, and then declining into the vale of years.
He had been a poor Irish lad, carefully brought up by his parents, and
sent to the University of Glasgow (where he studied under Adam Smith)
to prepare him for his future destination. It was his mother's
proudest wish to see her son a Dissenting Minister. So, if we look
back to past generations (as far as eye can reach), we see the same
hopes, fears, wishes, followed by the same disappointments, throbbing
in the human heart; and so we may see them (if we look forward) rising
up for ever, and disappearing, like vapourish bubbles, in the human
breast! After being tossed about from congregation to congregation in
the heats of the Unitarian controversy, and squabbles about the
American war, he had been relegated to an obscure village, where he
was to spend the last thirty years of his life, far from the only
converse that he loved, the talk about disputed texts of Scripture,
and the cause of civil and religious liberty. Here he passed his days,
repining, but resigned, in the study of the Bible, and the perusal of
the Commentators--huge folios, not easily got through, one of which
would outlast a winter! Why did he pore on these from morn to night
(with the exception of a walk in the fields or a turn in the garden to
gather broccoli-plants or kidney beans of his own rearing, with no
small degree of pride and pleasure)? Here were 'no figures nor no
fantasies'--neither poetry nor philosophy--nothing to dazzle, nothing
to excite modern curiosity; but to his lack-lustre eyes there appeared
within the pages of the ponderous, unwieldy, neglected tomes, the
sacred name of JEHOVAH in Hebrew capitals: pressed down by the weight
of the style, worn to the last fading thinness of the understanding,
there were glimpses, glimmering notions of the patriarchal wanderings,
with palm-trees hovering in the horizon, and processions of camels at
the distance of three thousand years; there was Moses with the Burning
Bush, the number of the Twelve Tribes, types, shadows, glosses on the
law and the prophets; there were discussions (dull enough) on the age
of Methuselah, a mighty speculation! there were outlines, rude guesses
at the shape of Noah's Ark and of the riches of Solomon's Temple;
questions as to the date of the creation, predictions of the end of
all things; the great lapses of time, the strange mutations of the
globe were unfolded with the voluminous leaf, as it turned over; and
though the soul might slumber with an hieroglyphic veil of inscrutable
mysteries drawn over it, yet it was in a slumber ill-exchanged for all
the sharpened realities of sense, wit, fancy, or reason. My father's
life was comparatively a dream; but it was a dream of infinity and
eternity, of death, the resurrection, and a judgment to come!
No two individuals were ever more unlike than were the host and his
guest. A poet was to my father a sort of nondescript; yet whatever
added grace to the Unitarian cause was to him welcome. He could hardly
have been more surprised or pleased, if our visitor had worn wings.
Indeed, his thoughts had wings: and as the silken sounds rustled round
our little wainscoted parlour, my father threw back his spectacles
over his forehead, his white hairs mixing with its sanguine hue; and a
smile of delight beamed across his rugged, cordial face, to think that
Truth had found a new ally in Fancy![1] Besides, Coleridge seemed to
take considerable notice of me, and that of itself was enough. He
talked very familiarly, but agreeably, and glanced over a variety of
subjects. At dinner-time he grew more animated, and dilated in a very
edifying manner on Mary Wolstonecraft and Mackintosh. The last, he
said, he considered (on my father's speaking of his _Vindiciae Gallicae_
as a capital performance) as a clever, scholastic man--a master of the
topics--or, as the ready warehouseman of letters, who knew exactly
where to lay his hand on what he wanted, though the goods were not his
own. He thought him no match for Burke, either in style or matter.
Burke was a metaphysician, Mackintosh a mere logician. Burke was an
orator (almost a poet) who reasoned in figures, because he had an eye
for nature: Mackintosh, on the other hand, was a rhetorician, who had
only an eye to commonplaces. On this I ventured to say that I had
always entertained a great opinion of Burke, and that (as far as I
could find) the speaking of him with contempt might be made the test
of a vulgar, democratical mind. This was the first observation I ever
made to Coleridge, and he said it was a very just and striking one. I
remember the leg of Welsh mutton and the turnips on the table that day
had the finest flavour imaginable. Coleridge added that Mackintosh and
Tom Wedgwood (of whom, however, he spoke highly) had expressed a very
indifferent opinion of his friend Mr. Wordsworth, on which he remarked
to them--'He strides on so far before you, that he dwindles in the
distance!' Godwin had once boasted to him of having carried on an
argument with Mackintosh for three hours with dubious success;
Coleridge told him--'If there had been a man of genius in the room he
would have settled the question in five minutes.' He asked me if I had
ever seen Mary Wolstonecraft, and I said, I had once for a few
moments, and that she seemed to me to turn off Godwin's objections to
something she advanced with quite a playful, easy air. He replied,
that 'this was only one instance of the ascendency which people of
imagination exercised over those of mere intellect.' He did not rate
Godwin very high[2] (this was caprice or prejudice, real or affected),
but he had a great idea of Mrs. Wolstonecraft's powers of
conversation; none at all of her talent for bookmaking. We talked a
little about Holcroft. He had been asked if he was not much struck
_with_ him, and he said, he thought himself in more danger of being
struck _by_ him. I complained that he would not let me get on at all,
for he required a definition of every the commonest word, exclaiming,
'What do you mean by a _sensation_, Sir? What do you mean by an
_idea_?' This, Coleridge said, was barricadoing the road to truth; it
was setting up a turnpike-gate at every step we took. I forget a great
number of things, many more than I remember; but the day passed off
pleasantly, and the next morning Mr. Coleridge was to return to
Shrewsbury. When I came down to breakfast, I found that he had just
received a letter from his friend, T. Wedgwood, making him an offer of
150_l._ a year if he chose to waive his present pursuit, and devote
himself entirely to the study of poetry and philosophy. Coleridge
seemed to make up his mind to close with this proposal in the act of
tying on one of his shoes. It threw an additional damp on his
departure. It took the wayward enthusiast quite from us to cast him
into Deva's winding vales, or by the shores of old romance. Instead of
living at ten miles' distance, of being the pastor of a Dissenting
congregation at Shrewsbury, he was henceforth to inhabit the Hill of
Parnassus, to be a Shepherd on the Delectable Mountains. Alas! I knew
not the way thither, and felt very little gratitude for Mr. Wedgwood's
bounty. I was presently relieved from this dilemma; for Mr. Coleridge,
asking for a pen and ink, and going to a table to write something on a
bit of card, advanced towards me with undulating step, and giving me
the precious document, said that that was his address, _Mr. Coleridge,
Nether-Stowey, Somersetshire_; and that he should be glad to see me
there in a few weeks' time, and, if I chose, would come half-way to
meet me. I was not less surprised than the shepherd-boy (this simile
is to be found in _Cassandra_), when he sees a thunderbolt fall close
at his feet. I stammered out my acknowledgments and acceptance of this
offer (I thought Mr. Wedgwood's annuity a trifle to it) as well as I
could; and this mighty business being settled, the poet preacher took
leave, and I accompanied him six miles on the road. It was a fine
morning in the middle of winter, and he talked the whole way. The
scholar in Chaucer is described as going
----'Sounding on his way.'
So Coleridge went on his. In digressing, in dilating, in passing from
subject to subject, he appeared to me to float in air, to slide on
ice. He told me in confidence (going along) that he should have
preached two sermons before he accepted the situation at Shrewsbury,
one on Infant Baptism, the other on the Lord's Supper, showing that he
could not administer either, which would have effectually disqualified
him for the object in view. I observed that he continually crossed me
on the way by shifting from one side of the footpath to the other.
This struck me as an odd movement; but I did not at that time connect
it with any instability of purpose or involuntary change of principle,
as I have done since. He seemed unable to keep on in a straight line.
He spoke slightingly of Hume (whose _Essay on Miracles_ he said was
stolen from an objection started in one of South's sermons--_Credat
Judaeus Appella!_) I was not very much pleased at this account of Hume,
for I had just been reading, with infinite relish, that completest of
all metaphysical _chokepears_, his _Treatise on Human Nature_, to
which the _Essays_ in point of scholastic subtility and close
reasoning, are mere elegant trifling, light summer reading. Coleridge
even denied the excellence of Hume's general style, which I think
betray | 2,187.555694 |
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the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
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Libraries)
Castles and Chateaux of Old Touraine
and the Loire Country
_WORKS OF FRANCIS MILTOUN_
_The following, each 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth, gilt top,
profusely illustrated, $2.50_
_Rambles on the Riviera_
_Rambles in Normandy_
_Rambles in Brittany_
_The Cathedrals and Churches of the Rhine_
_The Cathedrals of Northern France_
| 2,187.555738 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.5377000 | 3,103 | 6 |
Produced by David Widger
THE IMMORTAL;
OR, ONE OF THE "FORTY." (L'IMMORTEL.)
By Alphonse Daudet,
Translated From The French By A. W. Verrall And Margaret D. G. Verrall
Rand, McNally & Company, Publishers - 1889
IMMORTAL; OR, THE "FORTY." (L'IMMORTEL)
CHAPTER I.
In the 1880 edition of Men of the Day, under the heading _Astier-Rehu_,
may be read the following notice:--
Astier, commonly called Astier-Rehu (Pierre Alexandre Leonard), Member
of the Academie Francaise, was born in 1816 at Sauvagnat (Puy-de-Dome).
His parents belonged to the class of small farmers. He displayed from
his earliest years a remarkable aptitude for the study of history. His
education, begun at Riom and continued at Louis-le-Grand, where he
was afterwards to re-appear as professor, was more sound than is now
fashionable, and secured his admission to the Ecole Normale Superieure,
from which he went to the Chair of History at the Lycee of Mende. It
was here that he wrote the Essay on Marcus Aurelius, crowned by
the Academie Francaise. Called to Paris the following year by M. de
Salvandy, the young and brilliant professor showed his sense of the
discerning favour extended to him by publishing, in rapid succession,
The Great Ministers of Louis XIV. (crowned by the Academie Francaise),
Bonaparte and the Concordat (crowned by the Academie Francaise), and
the admirable Introduction to the History of the House of Orleans, a
magnificent prologue to the work which was to occupy twenty years of his
life. This time the Academie, having no more crowns to offer him, gave
him a seat among its members. He could scarcely be called a stranger
there, having married Mlle. Rehu, daughter of the lamented Paulin Rehu,
the celebrated architect, member of the Academie des Inscriptions et
Belles-Lettres, and granddaughter of the highly respected Jean Rehu,
the father of the Academie Francaise, the elegant translator of Ovid and
author of the Letters to Urania, whose hale old age is the miracle of
the Institute. By his friend and colleague M. Thiers Leonard Astier-Rehu
was called to the post of Keeper of the Archives of Foreign Affairs.
It is well known that, with a noble disregard of his interests, he
resigned, some years later (1878), rather than that the impartial pen of
history should stoop to the demands of our present rulers. But deprived
of his beloved archives, the author has turned his leisure to good
account. In two years he has given us the last three volumes of his
history, and announces shortly New Lights on Galileo, based upon
documents extremely curious and absolutely unpublished. All the works of
Astier-Rehu may be had of Petit-Sequard, Bookseller to the Academie.
As the publisher of this book of reference entrusts to each person
concerned the task of telling his own story, no doubt can possibly be
thrown upon the authenticity of these biographical notes. But why must
it be asserted that Leonard Astier-Rehu resigned his post as Keeper of
the Archives? Every one knows that he was dismissed, sent away with no
more ceremony than a hackney-cabman, because of an imprudent phrase let
slip by the historian of the House of Orleans, vol. v. p. 327: 'Then, as
to-day, France, overwhelmed by the flood of demagogy, etc.' Who can see
the end of a metaphor? His salary of five hundred pounds a year, his
rooms in the Quai d'Orsay (with coals and gas) and, besides, that
wonderful treasure of historic documents, which had supplied the sap
of his books, all this had been carried away from him by this unlucky
'flood,' all by his own flood! The poor man could not get over it. Even
after the lapse of two years, regret for the ease and the honours of his
office gnawed at his heart, and gnawed with a sharper tooth on
certain dates, certain days of the month or the week, and above all on
'Teyssedre's Wednesdays.' Teyssedre was the man who polished the floors.
He came to the Astiers' regularly every Wednesday. On the afternoon
of that day Madame Astier was at home to her friends in her husband's
study, this being the only presentable apartment of their third floor in
the Rue de Beaune, the remains of a grand house, terribly inconvenient
in spite of its magnificent ceiling. The disturbance caused to the
illustrious historian by this 'Wednesday,' recurring every week and
interrupting his industrious and methodical labours, may easily be
conceived. He had come to hate the rubber of floor, a man from his
own country, with a face as yellow, close, and hard as his own cake
of beeswax. He hated Teyssedre, who, proud of coming from Riom, while
'Meuchieu Achtier came only from Chauvagnat,' had no scruple in pushing
about the heavy table covered with pamphlets, notes, and reports, and
hunted the illustrious victim from room to room till he was driven to
seek refuge in a kind of pigeon-hole over the study, where, though not
a big man, he must sit for want of room to get up. This lumber-closet,
which was furnished with an old damask chair, an aged card-table and a
stand of drawers, looked out on the courtyard through the upper circle
of the great window belonging to the room below. Through this opening,
much resembling the low glass door of an orangery, the travailing
historian might be seen from head to foot, miserably doubled up like
Cardinal La Balue in his cage. It was here that he was sitting one
morning with his eyes upon an ancient scrawl, having been already
expelled from the lower room by the bang-bang-bang of Teyssedre, when he
heard the sound of the front door bell.
'Is that you, Fage?' asked the Academician in his deep and resonant
bass.
'No, _Meuchieu Achtier_. It is the young gentleman.'
On Wednesday mornings the polisher opened the door, because Corentine
was dressing her mistress.
'How's _The Master?_' cried Paul Astier, hurrying by to his mother's
room. The Academician did not answer. His son's habit of using
ironically a title generally bestowed upon him as a compliment was
always offensive to him.
'M. Fage is to be shown up as soon as he comes,' he said, not addressing
himself directly to the polisher.
'Yes, _Meuchieu Achtier_.' And the bang-bang-bang began again.
'Good morning, mamma.'
'Why, it's Paul! Come in. Mind the folds, Corentine.'
Madame Astier was putting on a skirt before the looking-glass. She was
tall, slender, and still good-looking in spite of her worn features and
her too delicate skin. She did not move, but held out to him a cheek
with a velvet surface of powder. He touched it with his fair pointed
beard. The son was as little demonstrative as the mother.
'Will M. Paul stay to breakfast?' asked Corentine. She was a stout
countrywoman of an oily complexion, pitted with smallpox. She was
sitting on the carpet like a shepherdess in the fields, and was about
to repair, at the hem of the skirt, her mistress's old black dress.
Her tone and her attitude showed the objectionable familiarity of the
under-paid maid-of-all-work.
No, Paul would not stay to breakfast. He was expected elsewhere. He had
his buggy below; he had only come to say a word to his mother.
'Your new English cart? Let me look,' said Madame Astier. She went to
the open window, and parted the Venetian blinds, on which the bright May
sunlight lay in stripes, just far enough to see the neat little vehicle,
shining with new leather and polished pinewood, and the servant in
spotless livery standing at the horse's head.
'Oh, ma'am, how beautiful!' murmured Coren-tine, who was also at the
window. 'How nice M. Paul must look in it!'
The mother's face shone. But windows were opening opposite, and people
were stopping before the equipage, which was creating quite a sensation
at this end of the Rue de Beaune. Madame Astier sent away the servant,
seated herself on the edge of a folding-chair, and finished mending her
skirt for herself, while she waited for what her son had to say to her,
not without a suspicion what it would be, though her attention seemed
to be absorbed in her sewing. Paul Astier was equally silent. He leaned
back in an arm-chair and played with an ivory fan, an old thing which
he had known for his mother's ever since he was born. Seen thus, the
likeness between them was striking; the same Creole skin, pink over a
delicate duskiness, the same supple figure, the same impenetrable
grey eye, and in both faces a slight defect hardly to be noticed;
the finely-cut nose was a little out of line, giving an expression of
slyness, of something not to be trusted. While each watched and
waited for the other, the pause was filled by the distant brushing of
Teyssedre.
'Rather good, that,' said Paul.
His mother looked up. 'What is rather good?'
He raised the fan and pointed, like an artist, at the bare arms and the
line of the falling shoulders under the fine cambric bodice. She began
to laugh.
'Yes, but look here.' She pointed to her long neck, where the fine
wrinkles marked her age. 'But after all,'... you have the good looks, so
what does it matter? Such was her thought, but she did not express it.
A brilliant talker, perfectly trained in the fibs and commonplaces of
society, a perfect adept in expression and suggestion, she was left
without words for the only real feeling which she had ever experienced.
And indeed she really was not one of those women who cannot make up
their minds to grow old. Long before the hour of curfew--though indeed
there had perhaps never been much fire in her to put out--all her
coquetry, all her feminine eagerness to captivate and charm, all
her aspirations towards fame or fashion or social success had been
transferred to the account of her son, this tall, good-looking young
fellow in the correct attire of the modern artist, with his slight beard
and close-cut hair, who showed in mien and bearing that soldierly grace
which our young men of the day get from their service as volunteers.
'Is your first floor let?' asked the mother at last.
'Let! let! Not a sign of it! All the bills and advertisements no go!
"I don't know what is the matter with them; but they don't come," as
Vedrine said at his private exhibition.'
He laughed quietly, at an inward vision of Vedrine among his enamels and
his sculptures, calm, proud, and self-assured, wondering without anger
at the non-appearance of the public. But Madame Astier did not laugh.
That splendid first floor empty for the last two years! In the Rue
Fortuny! A magnificent situation--a house in the style of Louis XII.--a
house built by her son! Why, what did people want? The same people,
doubtless, who did not go to Vedrine. Biting off the thread with which
she had been sewing, she said:
'And it is worth taking, too!'
'Quite; but it would want money to keep it up.'
The people at the Credit Foncier would not be satisfied. And the
contractors were upon him--four hundred pounds for carpenter's work due
at the end of the month, and he hadn't a penny of it.
The mother, who was putting on the bodice of her dress before the
looking-glass, grew pale and saw that she did so. It was the shiver that
you feel in a duel, when your adversary raises his pistol to take aim.
'You have had the money for the restorations at Mousseaux?'
'Mousseaux! Long ago.'
'And the Rosen tomb?'
'Can't get on. Vedrine still at his statue.'
'Yes, and why must you have Vedrine? Your father warned you against
him.'
'Oh, I know. They can't bear him at the Institute.'
He rose and walked about the room.
'You know me, come. I am a practical man. If I took him and not some
one else to do my statue, you may suppose that I had a reason.' Then
suddenly, turning to his mother:
'You could not let me have four hundred pounds, I suppose?' She had been
waiting for this ever since he came in; he never came to see her for
anything else.
'Four hundred pounds? How can you think----' She said no more; but the
pained expression of her mouth and eyes said clearly enough:
'You know that I have given you everything--that I am dressed in
clothes fit for the rag-bag--that I have not bought a bonnet for three
years--that Corentine washes my linen in the kitchen because I should
blush to give such rubbish to the laundress; and you know also that my
worst misery is to refuse what you ask. Then why do you ask?' And this
mute address of his mother's was so eloquent that Paul Astier answered
it aloud:
'Of course I was not thinking of your having it yourself. By Jove, if
you had, it would be the better for me. But,' he continued, | 2,187.55774 |
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[Illustration: REV. PATRICK BRONTE.]
CHARLOTTE BRONTE.
A Monograph.
BY
T. WEMYSS REID.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS._
London:
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1877.
[_All Rights Reserved._]
_THIRD EDITION._
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE LORD HOUGHTON, D.C.L. F.R.S. &c.
THIS MEMORIAL OF A LIFE
WHICH HAS ADDED A NEW GLORY TO THE
LITERARY HISTORY OF YORKSHIRE
IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY HIS GRATEFUL FRIEND
THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
I have spoken so freely in the opening chapter of this Monograph of
the circumstances under which it has been written, that very little
need be said by way of introduction here. This attempt to throw some
fresh light upon the character of one of the most remarkable women of
our age has not been a task lightly taken up, or hastily performed.
The life and genius of Charlotte Bronte had long engaged my attention
before I undertook, at the request of the lady to whom I am indebted
for most of the original materials I have employed in these pages, the
work which I have now completed. In executing that work I have had
ample reason to feel and acknowledge my own deficiencies. With the
knowledge that I was treading in the footsteps of so consummate a
literary | 2,187.558638 |
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BARRACKS
BIVOUACS AND BATTLES
BARRACKS
BIVOUACS AND BATTLES
BY
ARCHIBALD FORBES, LL.D.
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1891
_All rights reserved_
All the pieces in this little volume are reprints. I have to express my
obligations to the proprietors and editors of the periodicals to which
they were originally contributed, for the permission to reproduce them.
A. F.
CONTENTS
PAGE
HOW “THE CRAYTURE” GOT ON THE STRENGTH 1
THE FATE OF “NANA SAHIB’S ENGLISHMAN” 31
THE OLD SERGEANT 56
THE GENTLEMAN PRIVATE OF THE “SKILAMALINKS” 72
JELLYPOD; ALIAS THE MULETEER 89
THE DOUBLE COUP DE GRÂCE 112
BILL BERESFORD AND HIS VICTORIA CROSS 129
LA BELLE HÉLÈNE OF ALEXINATZ 151
AN OUTPOST ADVENTURE 175
THE DIVINE FIGURE FROM THE NORTH 190
A YARN OF THE “PRESIDENT” FRIGATE 206
FIRE-DISCIPLINE 218
A CHRISTMAS DINNER DE PROFUNDIS 242
ABSIT OMEN! 251
A FORGOTTEN REBELLION 291
MY CAMPAIGN IN PALL MALL 307
HOW “THE CRAYTURE” GOT ON THE STRENGTH
Mick Sullivan was a private soldier in G troop, 30th Light Dragoons, of
some six years’ service. Since the day old Sergeant Denny Lee ’listed
him in Charles Street, just outside the Cheshire Cheese, close by
where the Council door of the India Office now is, Mick had never been
anything else than a private soldier, and never hoped or needed hope to
be anything else if he served out his full twenty-four years, for he
could neither read nor write, and his regimental defaulter sheet was
much fuller of “marks” than the most lavish barrack-room pudding is
of raisins. Nevertheless the Queen had a very good bargain in honest
Mick, although that was scarcely the opinion of the adjutant, who
was a “jumped-up” youngster, and had not been in the Crimea with the
regiment. The grizzled captain of G troop, who was a non-purchase man,
and had been soldiering for well on to twenty years, understood and
appreciated Mick better. Captain Coleman knew that he had come limping
up out of that crazy gallop along “the valley of death” with a sword
red from hilt to point, a lance-thrust through the calf of his leg, and
a wounded comrade on his back. He had heard Mick’s gay laugh and cheery
jest during that dreary time in the hollow inland from Varna, when
cholera was decimating the troop, and the hearts of brave men were in
their boots. He remembered how Mick was the life and soul of the gaunt
sorry squad inside the flimsy tent on the bleak <DW72> of Kadikoi during
that terrible Crimean winter, when men were turning their toes up to
the daisies by sections, and when the living crawled about half frozen,
half sodden. Mick’s old chestnut mare (G 11) was the only horse of
the troop that survived the winter, kept alive by her owner’s patient
and unremitting care: if it was true, as fellows swore who found her
cruelly rough--she was known by the name of the “Dislocator,” given
to her by a much-chafed recruit, whose anatomy her trot had wholly
disorganised--if it was true that in that hard winter she had frozen
quite hard, and had never since come properly thawed, it was to Mick’s
credit that she was still saving the country the price of a remount.
There was no smarter man or cleaner soldier in all the corps than the
harum-scarum Tipperary man; he had a brogue that you could cut with a
knife; and there was nothing he would not do for whisky but shirk his
turn of duty and hear his regiment belittled without promptly engaging
in single combat with the disparager of the “Ould Strawboots.”
Mick did a good deal of punishment drill at varying intervals, and his
hair was occasionally abnormally short as a result of that species
of infliction known as “seven days’ cells.” He had seldom any other
crime than “absent without leave,” and he had never been tried by
court-martial, although more than once he had had a very narrow squeak,
especially once when he was brought into barracks by a picket after
a three days’ absence, with a newspaper round his shoulders instead
of stable jacket and shirt. No doubt he had drunk those articles
of attire, but the plea that they had been stolen saved him from
the charge of making away with “regimental necessaries,” which is a
court-martial offence. The 30th Light, just home from the Crimea, were
quartered at York; and Mick, after two or three escapades which were
the pardonable result of his popularity as one of the heroes of the
Light Cavalry charge, had settled down into unwonted steadiness. He
went out alone every evening, and at length his chum took him to task
for his unsociality, and threatened to “cut the loaf.”
“Arrah now,” was Mick’s indignant reply, “it’s a silly spalpeen ye are
to go for to think such a thing. Sure if it hadn’t been a great saycret
intirely, ye’d have known all about it long ago. I’ve been coortin’, ye
divil! Sure an’ she’s the purtiest crayture that iver ye clapt yer two
eyes upon, aye, an’ a prudent girl too. So that’s the saycret, chum;
an’ now come on up to the canteen, an’ bedad we’ll drink luck an’ joy
to the wooin’!”
Over their pot of beer Mick told his comrade the simple story of his
love. His sweetheart, it seemed, was the daughter of a small shopkeeper
in the outskirts of the city, and, as Mick was most emphatic in
claiming, a young woman of quite exemplary character. Thus far, then,
everything was satisfactory; but the obvious rock ahead was the all but
certainty that Mick would be refused leave to marry. He had not exactly
the character entitling him to such a privilege, and the troop already
had its full complement of married people. But if the commanding
officer should say him nay, then “Sure,” Mick doughtily protested,
“I’ll marry the darlint widout lave; in spite of the colonel, an’ the
gineral, and the commander-in-chief himself, bedad!”
Next morning Mick formed up to the adjutant and asked permission to
see the colonel. The adjutant, after the manner of his kind, tried to
extract from him for what purpose the request was made, but Mick was
old soldier enough to know how far an adjutant’s ill word carries, and
resolutely declined to divulge his intent. After the commanding officer
had disposed of what are called at the police-courts the “charges
of the night,” Mick was marched into the presence by the regimental
sergeant-major; and as he stood there at rigid attention, the nature
of his business was demanded in the curt hard tone which the colonel
with a proper sense of the fitness of things uses when addressing the
private soldier.
“Plase yer honour, sor, I want to get--to get married,” blurted Mick,
for the moment in some confusion now that the crisis had come.
“And, plase yer honour, Mr. Sullivan,” retorted the chief with sour
pleasantry, “I’ll see you d--d first!”
“Och, sor, an’ how can ye be so cruel at all, at all?” pleaded Mick,
who had recovered from his confusion, and thought a touch of the
blarney might come in useful.
“Why, what the deuce do you want with a wife?” asked the colonel
angrily.
“Sure, sor, an’ pwhat does any man want wid a wife?”
The regimental sergeant-major grinned behind his hand, the adjutant
burst into a splutter of laughter at the back of the colonel’s chair,
and that stern officer himself found his gravity severely strained. But
he was firm in his refusal to grant the indulgence, and Mick went forth
from the presence in a very doleful frame of mind.
At “watch-setting” the same night Mr. Sullivan was reported absent, nor
did he come into barracks in the course of the night. The regimental
sergeant-major was a very old bird, and straightway communicated to
the adjutant his ideas as to the nature of Mick’s little game. Then
the pair concerted a scheme whereby they might baulk him at the very
moment when his cup of bliss should be at his lips. At nine in the
morning about a dozen corporals and as many files of men paraded
outside the orderly-room door. To each of the likeliest religious
edifices licensed for the celebration of marriages a corporal and a
file were told off, with instructions to watch outside, and intercept
Sullivan if he should appear in the capacity of a bridegroom. Clever as
was the device, it came very near failing. The picket charged with the
duty of watching an obscure suburban chapel, regarding it as extremely
improbable that such a place would be selected, betook themselves to
the taproom of an adjacent public-house, where they chanced on some
good company, and had soon all but forgotten the duty to which they had
been detailed. It was, however, suddenly recalled to them. A native who
dropped in for a pint of half-and-half, casually observed that “a sojer
were bein’ spliced across the road.” The moment was a critical one,
but the corporal rose to the occasion. Hastily leading out his men,
he stationed them at the door, while he himself entered, and stealing
up to the marriage party unobserved, clapped his hand on Sullivan’s
shoulder just as the latter was fumbling for the ring. The bride
shrieked, the priest talked about sacrilege, and the bride’s mother
made a gallant assault on the corporal with her umbrella; but the
non-commissioned officer was firm, and Mick, whose sense of discipline
was very strong, merely remarked, “Be jabers, corporal, an’ in another
minute ye would have been too late!”
He was summarily marched off into barracks, looking rather rueful at
being thus torn from the very horns of the altar. Next morning he paid
another visit to the orderly-room, this time as a prisoner, when the
commanding officer, radiant at the seeming success of the plot to baulk
Mr. Sullivan’s matrimonial intentions, let him off with fourteen days’
pack drill. Having done that punishment, he was again free to go out
of barracks, but only in the evening, so that he could not get married
unless by special license, a luxury to which a private dragoon’s pay
does not run. Nevertheless he cherished his design, and presently
the old adage, “Where there’s a will there’s a way,” had yet another
confirmation.
One fine morning the regiment rode out in “watering order.” About
a mile outside the town, poor Mick was suddenly taken very ill. So
serious appeared his condition that the troop sergeant-major directed
him to ride straight back into barracks, giving him strict orders to
go to hospital the moment he arrived. Presently, Mick’s horse, indeed,
cantered through the barrack gate, but there was no rider on its back.
The sentry gave the alarm, and the guard, imagining Mick to have been
thrown, made a search for him along the road outside; but they did not
find him, for the reason that at the time he was being thus searched
for he was being married. The ceremony was this time accomplished
without interruption; but the hymeneal festivities were rudely broken
in upon by a picket from the barracks, who tore the bridegroom
ruthlessly from the arms of the bride, and escorted him to durance in
the guard-room.
Mick had seven days’ cells for this escapade, and when he next saw his
bride, he had not a hair on his head a quarter of an inch long, the
provost-sergeant’s shears having gone very close to the scalp. He had
a wife, it was true; but matrimonial felicity seemed a far-off dream.
Mick had married without leave, and there was no place in barracks
for his little wife. Indeed, in further punishment of Mick, her name
was “put upon the gate,” which means that the sentry was charged to
prohibit her entrance. Mick could get no leave; so he could enjoy the
society of his spouse only between evening stables and watch-setting;
and on the whole he might just as well have been single--indeed better,
if the wife’s welfare be taken into consideration. Only neither husband
nor wife was of this opinion, and hoped cheerily for better things.
But worse, not better, was to befall the pair. That cruellest of all
blows which can befall the couple married without leave, suddenly
struck them; the regiment was ordered on foreign service. It was to
march to the south of England, give over its horses at Canterbury,
Christchurch, and elsewhere, and then embark at Southampton for India.
Next to a campaign, the brightest joy in the life of the cavalry
soldier is going on “the line of march,” from one home station to
another. For him it is a glorious interlude to the dull restrained
monotony of his barrack-room life, and the weary routine of mounted
and dismounted drill. “Boots and saddles” sounds early on the line of
march. The troopers from their scattered billets concentrate in front
of the principal hotel of the town where the detachment quarters for
the night, and form up in the street or the market-place, while as
yet the shutters are fast on the front of the earliest-opening shop.
The officers emerge from the hotel, mount, and inspect the parade;
the order “Threes right!” is given, and the day’s march has begun.
The morning sun flashes on the sword-scabbards and accoutrements,
as the quiet street echoes to the clink of the horse-hoofs on the
cobblestones. Presently the town is left behind, and the detachment
is out into the country. There had been a shower as the sun rose--the
“pride of the morning” the soldiers call the sprinkle--just sufficient
to lay the dust, and evoke from every growing thing its sweetest
scent. The fresh crisp morning air is laden with perfume; the wild
rose, the jessamine, the eglantine, and the “morning glory” entwine
themselves about the gnarled thorn of the hedgerows, and send their
tangled feelers straggling up the ivy-clad trunks of the great elms and
oaks, through whose foliage the sunbeams are shooting. From the valley
rises a feathery haze broken into gossamer-like patches of diverse
hues; and here and there the blue smoke of some early-lit cottage
fire ascends in a languid straightness through the still atmosphere.
The hind yoking his plough in the adjacent field chants a rude ditty,
while his driver is blowing his first cloud, the scent of which comes
sluggishly drifting across the road with that peculiarly fresh odour
only belonging to tobacco-smoke in the early morning. As the rise is
crowned, a fair and fertile expanse of country lies stretched out
below--shaggy woods and cornfields, and red-roofed homesteads, and long
reaches of still water, and the square tower of the venerable church
showing over the foliage that overhangs the hamlet and the graveyard.
Then the command “Trot!” is passed along from the front, and away
go the troopers bumping merrily, their accoutrements jingling and
clanking, their horses feeling the bit lightly, tossing their heads,
arching their necks, and stepping out gallantly, in token that they too
take delight in being on the road. Three miles of a steady trot; then
a five minutes’ halt to tighten girths and “look round” equipments;
then up into the saddle again. The word comes back along the files,
“Singers to the front!” whereupon every fellow who has, or thinks he
has, a voice, presses forward till the two front ranks are some six
abreast across the road. Now the premier vocalist--self-constituted or
acclaimed--strikes up a solo whose principal attribute is unlimited
chorus; and so to the lusty strain the detachment marches through the
next village, bringing all the natives to their doors, and attracting
much attention and commendation, especially from the fair sex. The
day’s march half over, there is a longer halt; and the kindly officers
send on a corporal to the little wayside beerhouse just ahead, whence
he speedily returns, accompanied by the landlord, stepping carefully
between a couple of pailsful of foaming beer. Each man receives his
pint, the officers’ “treat”; and then, all hands in the highest
spirits, the journey is resumed; trot and walk alternate, the men
riding “at ease,” until the verge is reached of the town in which
the detachment is to be billeted for the night. Then “Attention!” is
called, swords are drawn, the files close up, and the little array
marches right gallantly through the streets to the principal hotel.
Here the “billeting sergeant,” who is always a day’s march ahead,
distributes the billets, each for a couple of troopers, and chums are
allowed to share the same billet. A willing urchin shows the way to
the Wheatsheaf, whose hearty landlord forthwith comes out with a frank
welcome, and a brown jug in hand. Horses cleaned and bedded down,
accoutrements freed from the soil of the road, dinner--and a right good
dinner--is served, the troopers sitting down to table with their host
and hostess. The worthy Boniface and his genial spouse have none of
your cockney contempt for the soldier, but consider him not only their
equal, but a welcome guest; and the soldier, if he is worth his salt,
does his best to conduct himself so as not to tarnish the credit of his
cloth.
Than Mick Sullivan no soldier of the gay 30th Light Dragoons was wont
to enjoy himself more on the line of march. But now the honest Irishman
was silent and depressed. He was a married man. That of itself did
not sadden him; he did not repent his act, rash as it had been. But
he had married without leave, and his little wife was entitled to no
privileges--she was not “on the strength.” Mick had prayed her to
remain at home with her father, for he could not afford her travelling
expenses, and even if he could, he knew, and he had to tell her,
that they must part at the port of embarkation. But “the Crayture,”
as Mick called her, was resolute to go thus far. Poll Tudor and Bess
Bowles, accredited spouses, “married women on the strength,” took train
at Government expense, and knew their berths on the troopship were
assured. But for “the Crayture” there was no railway warrant, far less
any berth aboard. March for march, with weary feet and swelling heart,
the poor little woman made with the detachment, tramping the long miles
between York and Southampton. Mostly the kind souls where Mick was
billeted gave her bite and sup and her bed; now and then the hayloft
was her portion. Ah me! in the old days such woful journeys were often
made; I believe that nowadays the canteen fund helps on their way
soldiers’ wives married without leave.
The troopship, with her steam up, was lying alongside the jetty in
Southampton Dock, and troop by troop as they quitted the train, the
men of the 30th Light were being marched aboard. Mick had bidden
“the Crayture” farewell, and had drowned his grief in drink; as they
marched toward the jetty, his chum reproached him on account of his
unsoldierly condition.
“Arrah now,” wailed Mick piteously, “sure, an’ if it wor yersilf lavin’
the darlint av a young wife behind ye, glad an’ fain ye would be to
take a dhrap to deaden yer sorrow. Whin I sed good-bye to the Crayture
this mornin’ I thought she’d have died outright wid the sobs from the
heart av her. Och, chum, the purty, beautiful crayture that I love so,
an’ that loves me, an’ me lavin’ her to the hard wurrld! Be gorra, an’
there she stands!”
Sure enough, standing there in the crowd, weeping as if she would break
her heart, was Mick’s poor little wife.
“Hould me carabine, chum, just for a moment, till I be givin’ her just
wan last kiss!” pleaded the poor fellow, and with a sudden spring he
was out of the ranks unobserved, and hidden in the crowd that opened
to receive him. His chum tramped on, but he reached the main-deck of
the troopship still carrying two carbines, for as yet Mick had not
re-appeared.
The comrade’s anxious eyes searched the crowded jetty in vain. But they
scanned a scene of singular pathos. The grizzled old quarter-master
was wiping his shaggy eyelashes furtively as he turned away from the
children he was leaving behind. There were poor wretches of wives
who had been married without leave, as “the Crayture” had been--some
with babes in their arms, weeping hopelessly as they thought of
the thousands of miles that were to part them from the men of their
hearts. And there were weeping women there also who had not even the
sorrowful consolation of being entitled to call themselves wives; and
boys were cheering, and the band was playing “The Girl I left behind
me,” and non-commissioned officers were swearing, and some half-drunk
recruit-soldiers were singing a dirty ditty, and heart-strings were
being torn, and the work of embarkation was steadily and relentlessly
progressing.
The embarkation completed, the shore-goers having been cleared out of
the ship and the gangway drawn, there was a muster on deck, and the
roll of each troop was called. In G troop one man was missing, and
that man was Mick Sullivan. The muster had barely broken off, when
a wild shout from the jetty was heard. There stood Mick very limp
and staggery, “the Crayture” clinging convulsively round his neck,
and he hailing the ship over her shoulder. Behind the forlorn couple
was a sympathising crowd of females sobbing in unmelodious concert,
with here and there a wilder screech of woe from the throat of some
tender-hearted country-woman of Mr. Sullivan. After some delay, Mick
was brought on to the upper deck of the trooper, where he stood
before the lieutenant of his troop in an attitude meant to represent
the rigidity of military attention, contrasting vividly with his
tear-stained face, his inability to refrain from a frequent hiccough,
and an obvious difficulty in overcoming the propensity of his
knee-joints to serve their owner treacherously.
“Well, Sullivan,” said the young officer, with an affectation of
sternness which under the circumstances was most praiseworthy, “what do
you mean by this conduct?”
“Plase, sor, an’ beg yer parrdon, sor, but I didn’t mane only to fall
out just for wan last worrd. It wasn’t the dhrink at all, at all,
sor; it’s the grief that kilt me intirely. Ah, sure, sor,” added Mick
insinuatingly, “it’s y | 2,187.64671 |
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PRIVATE LETTERS
OF
EDWARD GIBBON.
[Illustration: SILHOUETTE PORTRAIT OF EDWARD GIBBON.
_Frontispiece, Vol. II._]
PRIVATE LETTERS
OF
EDWARD GIBBON
(1753-1794).
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
THE EARL OF SHEFFIELD.
EDITED BY
ROWLAND E. PROTHERO,
BARRISTER-AT-LAW, SOME-TIME FELLOW OF ALL SOULS' COLLEGE, OXFORD.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1896.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED.
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
GIBBON'S CORRESPONDENCE.
1753-1794.
418.
_To his Stepmother._
Bentinck Street, July 3rd, 1781.
DEAR MADAM,
Though your kind impatience might make the time appear tedious, there
has been no other delay in my business, than the necessary forms of
Election. My new constituents of Lymington obligingly chose me in my
absence. I took my seat last Wednesday, and am now so old a member
that I begin to complain of the heat and length of the Session. So
much for Parliament. With regard to the board of trade, I am ignorant
of your friend's meaning, and possibly she may be so herself. There
has not been (to my knowledge) the most distant idea of my leaving
it, and indeed there are few places within the compass of any
rational ambition that I should like so well.
In a few days, as soon as we are relieved from public business, I
shall go down to my Country house for the summer. Do not stare.
I say my Country house. Notwithstanding Caplin's very diligent
enquiries, I have not been able to please myself with anything in the
neighbourhood of London, and have therefore hired for three months
a small pleasant house at Brighthelmstone. I flatter myself that in
that admirable sea-air, with the vicinity of Sheffield place, and a
proper mixture of light study in the morning and good company in the
evening, the summer may roll away not disagreably.--As I know your
tender apprehensions, I promise you not to bathe in the sea without
due preparation and advice.
Mrs. Porten has chosen, not for health but pleasure, a different
sea-shore: she has been some weeks at Margate, and will scarcely
return to town before my departure. I sincerely sympathize in all
the melancholy scenes which have afflicted your sensibility, and am
more particularly concerned about poor Miss Gould, to whom I wish
to express the thoughts and hopes of friendship on this melancholy
occasion. Lady Miller's[1] sudden death has excited some attention
even in this busy World, her foibles are mentioned with general
regard. Adieu, Dear Madam, and do not let Mrs. Ravaud tempt you into
Elysium: we are tolerably well here.
I am
Ever yours,
E. GIBBON.
[1] Anna, Lady Miller (1741-1781), author of _Letters from Italy,
by an Englishwoman_ (1776), a verse-writer and a well-known
character at Bath, held a literary salon at her villa at
Batheaston. She held, writes Walpole, January 15, 1775, "a
Parnassus-fair every Thursday, gives out rhymes and themes, and
all the flux of quality at Bath contend for the prizes." An
antique vase, purchased in Italy, was placed on a modern altar
decorated with laurel, and each guest was invited to place in
the urn an original composition in verse. The author of the one
declared to be the best was crowned by Lady Miller with a wreath
of myrtle. Selections from these compositions were published at
intervals. "Nothing here," said Miss Burney in 1780, "is more
tonish than to visit Lady Miller." Lady Miller died suddenly at
Bristol Hot Wells on June 24, 1781. Her husband, Sir John Riggs
Miller, died in 1798.
419.
_To his Stepmother._
Bentinck Street, July 9th, 1781.
Dear Madam,
Nothing but my absence (on a visit to Mr. Jenkinson[2] in Surrey)
should have prevented me from writing by the _first_ post to
remove those fears which could be suggested only by too exquisite
a sensibility. I am well and happy; the modest expression of
_tolerably_ was intended to express a very high degree of content,
and I most sincerely assure you that my journey to Brighthelmstone is
in search not of health but of amusement and society.
I am, Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. GIBBON.
[2] Probably C. Jenkinson, M.P. for Saltash and Secretary at War;
afterwards Earl of Liverpool.
420.
_To his Stepmother._
Brighthelmstone, July 26th, 1781.
DEAR MADAM,
[Sidenote: HIS HOUSE AT BRIGHTON.]
After a short visit to Sheffield I came to this place last Sunday
evening, and think it will answer my expectations. My house, which is
not much bigger than yours, has a full prospect of the sea and enjoys
a temperate climate in the most sultry days. The air gives health,
spirits and a ravenous appetite. I walk sufficiently morning and
evening, lounge in the middle of the day on the Steyne, booksellers'
shops, &c., and by the help of a pair of horses can make more distant
excursions. The society is good and easy, and though I have a large
provision of books for my amusement, I shall not undertake any deep
studies or laborious compositions this summer. You will rejoyce, I am
sure, in hearing so favourable an account of my situation, and I wish
I could propose to you to share it with me.
I am, Dear Madam,
Most truly yours,
E. GIBBON.
421.
_To his Stepmother._
Brighthelmstone, August 24th, 1781.
DEAR MADAM,
Of all mortals I have the least right to complain of a friend's
silence, but yours has been so _long_ and so _unnatural_ that I am
seriously alarmed. If you can assure me by a line that it does not
proceed from want of health or spirits, I shall be perfectly at
ease. Notwithstanding our princely visitors (the Cumberlands) who
are troublesome, I like the air and society so well that I shall
certainly stay here at least till the end of September. Adieu.
I am, Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. G.
422.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Brooke's, Thursday Evening, 1781.
What I _hear_ would fill volumes, what I _know_ does not amount to
half a line.--All is expectation: but I fear that our enemies are
more active than our friend. _He_[3] is still at Bushy; a meeting
is held next Saturday morn at eleven o'clock, but I think you need
not hurry yourself. According to Louisa's phrase, I will be your
grandfather. The black Patriot[4] is now walking and declaiming in
this room with a train at his heels. Adieu. No news.
E. G.
If there is another meeting Sunday evening you shall find a note. I
have not seen Lord Loughborough, but understand he has preached war
and any coalition against the Minister.
[3] Lord North resided at Bushy, Lady North having been appointed
in July, 1771, Keeper and Ranger of Bushy Park.
[4] Probably C. J. Fox.
423.
_To Lord Sheffield._
1781.
Mrs. Williams, No. 8, Downing Street, will embrace Lord S., Mr.
Purden and Co. for two Guineas and a half per week. The stables
and _Coach houses_ will be empty, and Mr. Collier will provide
the needful refreshments.--Sir R[ichard] W[orsley] has opened the
trenches in Doctors Commons, and cryed down his wife's credit with
tradesmen, &c. I supped last night at Lord L[oughborough]'s with Mrs.
Abingdon,[5]--a judge and an actress; what would Sir Roger Hill[6]
say? Dinner will be on table at five o'clock next Monday in Bentinck
Street.
Saturday night. Brookes's absolutely alone. The town even yet very
empty.
[5] Fanny Barton, Mrs. Abington, first appeared on the stage at
the Haymarket in 1755. Her great success was, however, gained at
Drury Lane, after her return from Dublin, from 1764 onwards. She
was the first Lady Teazle, and acted Ophelia to Garrick's Hamlet.
She died in 1815.
[6] Sir Roger Hill was a Baron of the Court of Exchequer at the
time of the Commonwealth, and therefore, it is suggested, would
have shrunk from contact with a player. He was an ancestor of
Lady Sheffield.
424.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Friday, two o'clock, 7th Sept., 1781.
[Sidenote: FRENCH AND SPANISH FLEETS IN THE CHANNEL.]
Lord Hillsborough[7] tells me that himself and Co. believe that the
combined fleets are gone into Brest. Expresses that left Bristol
yesterday, and Plymouth, Wednesday, cannot give the least account of
them, and a Portuguese ship from Lisbon the 23rd last month, beat
several days between Scilly and the Land's end without seeing or
hearing of them. However, at all events more than twenty-five swift
sailing vessels had been sent out to meet and warn the West India
fleets. Adieu.
We shall meet at Brighton on Monday.
E. G.
[7] Wills Hill, second Viscount Hillsborough, in 1789 created
first Marquis of Downshire (1718-1793). In November, 1779, he
succeeded Lord Weymouth as Secretary of State for the northern
department, and held that office till the resignation of the
Government in March, 1782. Walpole, writing on September 11, says
the combined French and Spanish fleets were at the entrance of
the Channel, "where they certainly will not venture to stay long."
425.
_To Lady Sheffield._
Bentinck Street, Friday evening, ten o'clock, 1781.
*Oh, ho! I have given you the slip; saved thirty miles, by proceeding
directly this day from Eartham to town, and am now _comfortably_
seated in my library, in _my own_ easy chair, and before _my own_
fire; a style which you understand, though it is unintelligible to
your Lord. The town is empty; but I am surrounded with a thousand old
acquaintance of all ages and characters, who are ready to answer a
thousand questions which I am impatient to ask. I shall not easily
be tired of their Company; yet I still remember, and will honourably
execute, my promise of visiting you at Brighton about the middle of
next month. I have seen nobody, nor learned anything, in four hours
of a town life; but I can inform you, that Lady * * * [erased] is
now the declared mistress of Prince Henry of Prussia, whom she
encountered at Spa; and that the Emperor has invited this amiable
Couple to pass the winter at Vienna; fine encouragement for married
women who behave themselves properly! I spent a very pleasant day in
the little paradise of Eartham, and the hermit expressed a desire
(no vulgar compliment) to see and to know Lord S. Adieu. I cordially
embrace, &c.*
426.
_To his Stepmother._
Bentinck Street, October 6th, 1781.
DEAR MADAM,
I have meditated a letter many posts, and the bell of Saturday
evening now admonishes or rather reproaches. Allow me only to say
that I am perfectly well, and expect very soon some more | 2,187.64674 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.7274810 | 1,022 | 23 |
Produced by Al Haines
PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER
BY
HERBERT JENKINS
HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED
3 YORK STREET, LONDON S.W.1
1918
A
HERBERT
JENKINS'
BOOK
_Fifteenth printing completing 153,658 copies_
MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY
PURNELL AND SONS, PAULTON (SOMERSET) AND LONDON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION
II. THE BONSOR-TRIGGS' MENAGE
III. THE ADVENTURE AT THE QUADRANT GRILL-ROOM
IV. THE MADNESS OF LORD PETER BOWEN
V. PATRICIA'S REVENGE
VI. THE INTERVENTION OF AUNT ADELAIDE
VII. LORD PETER PROMISES A SOLUTION
VIII. LORD PETER'S S.O.S.
IX. LADY TANAGRA TAKES A HAND
X. MISS BRENT'S STRATEGY
XI. THE DEFECTION OF MR. TRIGGS
XII. A BOMBSHELL
XIII. A TACTICAL BLUNDER
XIV. GALVIN HOUSE MEETS A LORD
XV. MR. TRIGGS TAKES TEA IN KENSINGTON GARDENS
XVI. PATRICIA'S INCONSTANCY
XVII. LADY PEGGY MAKES A FRIEND
XVIII. THE AIR RAID
XIX. GALVIN HOUSE AFTER THE RAID
XX. A RACE WITH SPINSTERHOOD
XXI. THE GREATEST INDISCRETION
WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUT
Patricia Brent is a "paying guest" at the Galvin House Residential
Hotel. One day she overhears two of her fellow "guests" pitying her
because she "never has a nice young man to take her out."
In a thoughtless moment of anger she announced that on the following
night she is dining at the Quadrant with her fiance. When in due
course she enters the grill-room, she finds some of Galvin Houseites
there to watch her. Rendered reckless by the thought of the
humiliation of being found out, she goes up to a young staff-officer,
and asks him to help her by "playing up."
This is how she meets Lt.-Col. Lord Peter Bowen, D.S.O. The story is a
comedy concerned with the complications that ensue from Patricia's
thoughtless act.
PATRICIA BRENT, SPINSTER
CHAPTER I
PATRICIA'S INDISCRETION
"She never has anyone to take her out, and goes nowhere, and yet she
can't be more than twenty-seven, and really she's not bad-looking."
"It's not looks that attract men," there was a note of finality in the
voice; "it's something else." The speaker snapped off her words in a
tone that marked extreme disapproval.
"What else?" enquired the other voice.
"Oh, it's--well, it's something not quite nice," replied the other
voice darkly, "the French call it being _tres femme_. However, she
hasn't got it."
"Well, I feel very sorry for her and her loneliness. I am sure she
would be much happier if she had a nice young man of her own class to
take her about."
Patricia Brent listened with flaming cheeks. She felt as if someone
had struck her. She recognised herself as the object of the speakers'
comments. She could not laugh at the words, because they were true.
She _was_ lonely, she had no men friends to take her about, and yet,
and yet----
"Twenty-seven," she muttered indignantly, "and I was only twenty-four
last November."
She identified the two speakers as Miss Elizabeth Wangle and Mrs.
Mosscrop-Smythe.
Miss Wangle was the great-niece of a bishop, and to have a bishop in
heaven is a great social asset on earth. This ecclesiastical
distinction seemed to give her the right of leadership at the Galvin
House Residential Hotel. Whenever a new boarder arrived, the
unfortunate bishop was disinterred and brandished before his eyes.
One facetious young man in the "commercial line" had dubbed her "the
body-snatcher," and, being inordinately proud of his _jeu d'esprit_, he
had worn it threadbare, and Miss Wangle had got to know of | 2,187.747521 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.7287400 | 398 | 13 |
Produced by Carla Foust, Tor Martin Kristiansen and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This book was produced from scanned images of public
domain material from the Google Print project.)
Transcriber's note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Printer
errors have been changed and are listed at the end. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original.
Characters that could not be displayed directly in Latin-1 are
transcribed as follows:
_ - Italics
^ - superscript
DOROTHY PAYNE
_QUAKERESS_
[Illustration: Dorothy Payne Todd.
Courtesy of Miss Lucia B. Cutts.]
Dorothy Payne, Quakeress
_A Side-Light upon the Career
of "Dolly" Madison_
By ELLA KENT BARNARD
Philadelphia:
FERRIS & LEACH
29 SOUTH SEVENTH ST.
1909
Dedicated to
ANNIE MATTHEWS KENT
FOREWORD
There is little time in this busy world of ours for reading,--little,
indeed, for thinking;--and there are already many books; but perhaps
these few additional pages relating to Dolly Madison, who was loved and
honored during so many years by our people, may be not altogether amiss.
During eleven administrations she was the intimate friend of our
presidents and their families. What a rare privilege was hers--to be at
home in the families of Washington, of Jefferson, of Madison, of Monroe;
to know intimately Hamilton and Burr and Clay and Webster; to live so
close, during her long life, to the heart of our nation; to be swayed by
each pulsation of our national life;--to be indeed a part and parcel of
it all, loved, | 2,187.74878 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.7340670 | 904 | 102 |
Produced by Al Haines.
IN MEMORABILIA MORTIS
BY FRANCIS SHERMAN
[Illustration: Decoration]
M DCCC XCVI
"BUT YE--SHALL I BEHOLD YOU WHEN LEAVES FALL,
IN SOME SAD EVENING OP THE AUTUMN-TIDE?"
IN MEMORABILIA MORTIS
I
I marked the slow withdrawal of the year,
Out on the hills the scarlet maples shone--
The glad, first herald of triumphant dawn.
A robin's song fell through the silence--clear
As long ago it rang when June was here.
Then, suddenly, a few grey clouds were drawn
Across the sky; and all the song was gone,
And all the gold was quick to disappear,
That day the sun seemed loth to come again;
And all day long the low wind spoke of rain,
Far off, beyond the hills; and moaned, like one
Wounded, among the pines: as though the Earth,
Knowing some giant grief had come to birth,
Had wearied of the Summer and the Sun.
II
I watched the slow oncoming of the Fall.
Slowly the leaves fell from the elms, and lay
Along the roadside; and the wind's strange way
Was their way, when they heard the wind's far call.
The crimson vines that clung along the wall
Grew thin as snow that lives on into May;
Grey dawn, grey noon,--all things and hours were grey,
When quietly the darkness covered all.
And while no sunset flamed across the west,
And no great moon rose where the hills were low,
The day passed out as if it had not been:
And so it seemed the year sank to its rest,
Remembering naught, desiring naught,--as though
Early in Spring its young leaves were not green.
III
A little while before the Fall was done
A day came when the frail year paused and said:
"Behold! a little while and I am dead;
Wilt thou not choose, of all the old dreams, one?"
Then dwelt I in a garden, where the sun
Shone always, and the roses all were red;
Far off, the great sea slept, and overhead,
Among the robins, matins had begun.
And I knew not at all it was a dream
Only, and that the year was near its close;
Garden and sunshine, robin-song and rose,
The half-heard murmur and the distant gleam
Of all the unvext sea, a little space
Were as a mist above the Autumn's face.
IV
And in this garden sloping to the sea
I dwelt (it seemed) to watch a pageant pass,--
Great Kings, their armour strong with iron and brass,
Young Queens, with yellow hair bound wonderfully.
For love's sake, and because of love's decree,
Most went, I knew; and so the flowers and grass
Knew my steps also: yet I wept Alas,
Deeming the garden surely lost to me.
But as the days went over, and still our feet
Trod the warm, even places, I knew well
(For I, as they, followed the close-heard beat
Of Love's wide wings who was her sentinel)
That here had Beauty built her citadel
And only we should reach her mercy-seat.
V
And ye, are ye not with me now alway?--
Thy raiment, Glauce, shall be my attire!
East of the Sun I, too, seek my desire!
My kisses, also, quicken the well-wrought clay!
And thou, Alcestis, lest my little day
Be done, art glad to die! Upon my pyre,
O Brynhild, let thine ashes feed the fire!
And, O thou Wood Sun, pray for me, I pray!
Yea, ye are mine! Yet there remaineth one
Who maketh Summer-time of all the year,
Whose glory darkeneth the very sun.
For thee my sword was sharpened and my spear,
For thee my least poor deed was dreamed and done,
O Love, O Queen, O Golden Guenevere!
VI
Then, | 2,187.754107 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.8308550 | 271 | 18 |
E-text prepared by Paul L'Allier, Suzanne Shell, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(https://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 48642-h.htm or 48642-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/48642/48642-h/48642-h.htm)
or
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Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/servantofpublic00hope
A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC
* * * * * *
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
A MAN OF MARK
MR. WITT'S WIDOW
FATHER STAFFORD
A CHANGE OF AIR
HALF A HERO
THE PRISONER OF ZENDA
THE GOD IN THE CAR
THE DOLLY DIALOGUES
COMEDIES OF COURTSHIP
THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO
| 2,187.850895 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.8328590 | 1,022 | 15 |
Produced by Julia Miller, John Campbell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
TRANSCRIBER NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The 'pointing hand' symbols have been replaced by ==> or <==.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the
text and consultation of external sources.
More detail can be found at the end of the book.
MRS. HALE'S
RECEIPTS FOR THE MILLION:
CONTAINING
FOUR THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIVE
Receipts, Facts, Directions, etc.
IN THE
USEFUL, ORNAMENTAL, AND DOMESTIC ARTS,
AND IN THE CONDUCT OF LIFE.
BEING A
COMPLETE FAMILY DIRECTORY.
RELATIVE TO
Accomplishments,|Economy, |Ladies' Work, |Phrenology,
| | |
Amusements, |Etching, |Feather Work, |Potichomanie,
| | |
Beauty, |Etiquette, |Manners, |Poultry,
| | |
Birds, |Flowers, |Marriage, |Riding,
| | |
Building, |Gardening, |Medicines, |Swimming,
| | |
Children, |Grecian Painting,|Needlework, |Surgery, Domestic
| | |
Cookery, |Health, |Nursing, |Temperance,
| | |
Courtship, |Home, |Out-Door Work,|Trees, etc.
| | |
Dress, etc. |Housekeeping, |Painting, |Women's Duties,
Words of Washington, etc.
BY MRS. SARAH JOSEPHA HALE.
Philadelphia:
T. B. PETERSON, NO. 306 CHESTNUT STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by
SARAH JOSEPHA HALE,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in
and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
PREFACE.
"_All the labor of man is for his mouth,_" says Solomon. If this
proverb be understood, as it was undoubtedly meant--that the chief
aim and purpose of all human labor are to make the homes of mankind
places of enjoyment, we see how important the art of household
management becomes.
While preparing my "New Cook Book," I was naturally led to examine
the subject, and the result was a deep conviction of the need of
another work on domestic economy, or directions how to guide the
house. This led me to prepare the present treatise, embodying rules
and receipts, such as never before have been brought together for the
help and instruction of a household.
"_Knowledge is power_" always; knowledge used for good purposes is
wisdom. Knowledge, like gold, must be gained by personal effort; and
usually, in small quantities, and by continued exertions, both wisdom
and gold are accumulated.
It has been by washing the sands of common experience and gathering
the small bits of science and art found here and there on the mining
ground of common knowledge, that this large work, containing the pure
gold of truth, applicable to all the needs of common life, has been
made. A few _nuggets_ will be seen, such as the collected maxims of
Franklin, and the "Words of Washington," never before placed within
the reach of the popular mind.
In the economy and well-being of the family, personally and
individually, improvement should be sedulously kept in view. It is
not enough that woman understands the art of cookery and of managing
her house: she must also take care of herself; of children; of all
who will be dependent on her for direction, for health, for happiness.
Personal appearance is important; the art of beautifying a home is
important; the knowledge of ways and means by which the clothing
of a family may be kept in good order, with the least expense of
time and money, is important; some knowledge of plants, flowers,
gardening, and of domestic animals, is of much benefit, particularly
to those who live in the country; and more important than all, is a
knowledge of the best means of preserving or restoring health. | 2,187.852899 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.9308240 | 1,590 | 33 |
Produced by Brendan OConnor, Ron Stephens, Jonathan Ingram
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Library of Early
Journals.)
BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
NO. CCCLXXIII. NOVEMBER, 1846. VOL. LX.
CONTENTS.
MARLBOROUGH'S DISPATCHES. 1710-1711, 517
MOHAN LAL IN AFGHANISTAN, 539
ON THE OPERATION OF THE ENGLISH POOR-LAWS, 555
PRUSSIAN MILITARY MEMOIRS, 572
ADVICE TO AN INTENDING SERIALIST, 590
A NEW SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY, 606
HONOUR TO THE PLOUGH, 613
LUIGIA DE' MEDICI, 614
THINGS IN GENERAL, 625
EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, 45, GEORGE STREET; AND 37, PATERNOSTER ROW,
LONDON.
_To whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed._
SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES, EDINBURGH.
BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
No. CCCLXXIII. NOVEMBER, 1846. VOL. LX.
MARLBOROUGH'S DISPATCHES.
1710-1711.
Louis XIV. was one of the most remarkable sovereigns who ever sat upon
the throne of France. Yet there is none of whose character, even at this
comparatively remote period, it is more difficult to form a just
estimate. Beyond measure eulogised by the poets, orators, and annalists
of his own age, who lived on his bounty, or were flattered by his
address, he has been proportionally vilified by the historians, both
foreign and national, of subsequent times. The Roman Catholic writers,
with some truth, represent him as the champion of their faith, the
sovereign who extirpated the demon of heresy in his dominions, and
restored to the church in undivided unity the realm of France. The
Protestant authors, with not less reason, regard him as the deadliest
enemy of their religion, and the cruellest foe of those who had embraced
it; as a faithless tyrant, who scrupled not, at the bidding of bigoted
priests, to violate the national faith plighted by the Edict of Nantes,
and persecute, with unrelenting severity, the unhappy people who, from
conscientious motives, had broken off from the Church of Rome. One set
of writers paint him as a magnanimous monarch, whose mind, set on great
things, and swayed by lofty desires, foreshadowed those vast designs
which Napoleon, armed with the forces of the Revolution, afterwards for
a brief space realised. Another set dwell on the foibles or the vices of
his private character--depict him as alternately swayed by priests, or
influenced by women; selfish in his desires, relentless in his hatred;
and sacrificing the peace of Europe, and endangering the independence of
France, for the gratification of personal vanity, or from the thirst of
unbounded ambition.
It is the fate of all men who have made a great and durable impression
on human affairs, and powerfully affected the interests, or thwarted the
opinion of large bodies of men, to be represented in these opposite
colours to future times. The party, whether in church or state, which
they have elevated, the nation whose power or glory they have augmented,
praise, as much as those whom they have oppressed and injured, whether
at home or abroad, strive to vilify their memory. But in the case of
Louis XIV., this general propensity has been greatly increased by the
opposite, and, at first sight, inconsistent features of his character.
There is almost equal truth in the magniloquent eulogies of his
admirers, as in the impassioned invectives of his enemies. He was not
less great and magnanimous than he is represented by the elegant
flattery of Racine or Corneille, nor less cruel and hard-hearted than he
is painted by the austere justice of Sismondi or D'Aubigne. Like many
other men, but more than most, he was made up of lofty and elevated, and
selfish and frivolous qualities. He could alternately boast, with truth,
that there were no longer any Pyrenees, and rival his youngest
courtiers in frivolous and often heartless gallantry. In his younger
years he was equally assiduous in his application to business, and
engrossed with personal vanity. When he ascended the throne, his first
words were: "I intend that every paper, from a diplomatic dispatch to a
private petition, shall be submitted to me;" and his vast powers of
application enabled him to compass the task. Yet, at the same time, he
deserted his queen for Madame la Valliere, and soon after broke La
Valliere's heart by his desertion of her for Madame de Montespan. In
mature life, his ambition to extend the bounds and enhance the glory of
France, was equalled by his desire to win the admiration or gain the
favour of the fair sex. In his later days, he alternately engaged in
devout austerities with Madame de Maintenon, and, with mournful
resolution, asserted the independence of France against Europe in arms.
Never was evinced a more striking exemplification of the saying, so well
known among men of the world, that no one is a hero to his
valet-de-chambre; nor a more remarkable confirmation of the truth, so
often proclaimed by divines, that characters of imperfect goodness
constitute the great majority of mankind.
That he was a great man, as well as a successful sovereign, is
decisively demonstrated by the mighty changes which he effected in his
own realm, as well as in the neighbouring states of Europe. When he
ascended the throne, France, though it contained the elements of
greatness, had never yet become great. It had been alternately wasted by
the ravages of the English, and torn by the fury of the religious wars.
The insurrection of the Fronde had shortly before involved the capital
in all the horrors of civil conflict;--barricades had been erected in
its streets; alternate victory and defeat had by turns elevated and
depressed the rival faction. Turenne and Conde had displayed their
consummate talents in miniature warfare within sight of Notre-Dame.
Never had the monarchy been depressed to a greater pitch of weakness
than during the reign of Louis XIII. and the minority of Louis XIV. But
from the time the latter sovereign ascended the throne, order seemed to
arise out of chaos. The ascendancy of a great mind made itself felt in
every department. Civil war ceased; the rival faction disappeared; even
the bitterness of religious hatred seemed for a time to be stilled by
the influence of patriotic feeling. The energies of France, drawn | 2,187.950864 |
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MECHANICAL DRAWING SELF-TAUGHT:
COMPRISING
INSTRUCTIONS IN THE SELECTION AND
PREPARATION OF DRAWING
INSTRUMENTS,
_ELEMENTARY INSTRUCTION IN PRACTICAL
MECHANICAL DRAWING_;
TOGETHER WITH
EXAMPLES IN SIMPLE GEOMETRY AND ELEMENTARY MECHANISM,
INCLUDING SCREW THREADS, GEAR WHEELS,
MECHANICAL MOTIONS, ENGINES AND BOILERS.
BY JOSHUA ROSE, M.E.,
AUTHOR OF "THE COMPLETE PRACTICAL MACHINIST,"
"THE PATTERN MAKER'S ASSISTANT,"
"THE SLIDE VALVE"
ILLUSTRATED BY THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY ENGRAVINGS.
PHILADELPHIA:
HENRY CAREY BAIRD & CO.,
INDUSTRIAL PUBLISHERS, BOOKSELLERS AND IMPORTERS,
810 WALNUT STREET.
LONDON:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON,
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188 FLEET STREET.
1887.
Copyright by
JOSHUA ROSE.
1883.
PHILADELPHIA.
COLLINS, PRINTER
PREFACE.
The object of this book is to enable the beginner to learn to make
simple mechanical drawings without the aid of an instructor, and to
create an interest in the subject by giving examples such as the
machinist meets with in his every-day workshop practice. The plan of
representing in many examples the pencil lines, and numbering the order
in which they are marked, the author believes to possess great
advantages for the learner, since it is the producing of the pencil
lines that really proves the study, the inking in being merely a
curtailed repetition of the pencilling. Similarly when the drawing of a
piece, such, for example, as a fully developed screw thread, is shown
fully developed from end to end, even though the pencil lines were all
shown, yet the process of construction will be less clear than if the
process of development be shown gradually along the drawing. Thus
beginning at an end of the example the first pencil lines only may be
shown, and as the pencilling progresses to the right-hand, the
development may progress so that at the other or left-hand end, the
finished inked in and shaded thread may be shown, and between these two
ends will be found a part showing each stage of development of the
thread, all the lines being numbered in the order in which they were
marked. This prevents a confusion of lines, and makes it more easy to
follow or to copy the drawing.
It is the numerous inquiries from working machinists for a book of this
kind that have led the author to its production, which he hopes and
believes will meet the want thus indicated, giving to the learner a
sufficiently practical knowledge of mechanical drawing to enable him to
proceed further by copying such drawings as he may be able to obtain, or
by the aid of some of the more expensive and elaborate books already
published on the subject.
He believes that in learning mechanical drawing without the aid of an
instructor the chief difficulty is overcome when the learner has become
sufficiently familiar with the instruments to be enabled to use them
without hesitation or difficulty, and it is to attain this end that the
chapter on plotting mechanical motions and the succeeding examples have
been introduced; these forming studies that are easily followed by the
beginner; while sufficiently interesting to afford to the student
pleasure as well as profit.
NEW YORK, _February, 1883_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE DRAWING BOARD.
The T square 18
The triangles 19
Curves 21
Selecting and testing drawing instruments 22
Lead pencils 23
Mixing India ink 25
The drawing paper 26
Tracing paper 29
The ink 30
Testing and selecting India ink 30
Draftsmen's measuring rules 33
CHAPTER II.
THE PREPARATION AND USE OF THE INSTRUMENTS.
Preparing the lining pen for use 34
The shapes of the lining pen points 35
Oil stoning pen points 36
Preparing the circle pen for use 38
The shape for circle pen points 38
Shaping circle pens for very small circles 39
A form of pen point recently introduced; forming the pen point 39
The method of oil-stoning circle pen points 40
The needle point and pen point 42
How to use the circle pen 43
German instrument to avoid slipping of a needle point 44
How to use the lining pen 45
Applying the ink to the bow-pen 46
Using a straight line or lining pen with a T square 47
CHAPTER III.
LINES AND CURVES.
Explanation of simple geometrical terms; radius; explanation of
conventional dotted lines 48
A line at a right angle to another; a point; parallel lines 49
A line produced; a line bisected; a line bounding a circle; an arc of a
circle; segments of a circle; the chord of an arc; a quadrant of a
circle 50
A sector of a circle; a line tangent to a circle; a semicircle; centre of
a circle; axis of a cylinder; to draw a circle that shall pass through
three given points 51
To find the centre from which an arc of a circle has been struck; the
degrees of a circle 52
The protractor 53
To find the angle of one line to another 54
To find the angles of three lines one to the other 55
Acute angles and obtuse angles 57
Triangles; right angle triangle; obtuse angle triangle; equilateral
triangle; isosceles triangle 58
Scalene triangle; a quadrangle; quadrilateral or tetragon 59
Rhomboid; trapezoid; trapezium 60
The construction of polygons 61
The names of regular polygons 62
The angles of regular polygons; the ellipse 63
Form of a true ellipse 69
The use of a trammel for drawing an ellipse 72
To draw a parabola mechanically 73
To draw a parabola by lines 74
To draw a heart cam 75
CHAPTER IV.
SHADOW LINES AND LINE-SHADING.
Section lining or cross-hatching 77
To represent cylindrical pieces one within the other; to represent a
number of pieces one within the other 78
To represent pieces put together and having slots or keyways through
them. 79
Effects of shading or cross-hatching 80
Lines in sectional shading or cross-hatching made to denote the material
of which the piece is composed--lead, wood, steel, brass, wrought
iron, cast iron 81
Line-shading 82
The shade line to indicate the shape of piece; representation of a
washer 83
A key drawn with a shade line; shade line applied to a nut; a German
pen regulated to draw lines of various breadths 84
Example of line-shading in perspective drawing, shown in a pipe threading
stock and die 85
A cylindrical pin line-shaded; two cylindrical pieces that join each
other; a lathe centre; a piece having a curved outline 86
Line-shading applied to a ball or sphere; applied to a pin in a socket
shown in section 87
A piece of tube, where the thickness of the tube is shown; where the
hollow or hole is seen, the piece shown in section; where the body is
bell-mouthed and the hollow curve shown by shading 88
Example of line-shading to denote the relative distances of various
surfaces from the eye 89
Line-shading to denote that the piece represented is of wood; shade-lines
being regular or irregular 90
CHAPTER V.
MARKING DIMENSIONS.
Examples in marking dimensions 91
CHAPTER VI.
THE ARRANGEMENT OF DIFFERENT VIEWS.
The different views of a mechanical drawing; elevation; plan; general
view; a figure to represent a solid cylinder 94
To represent the different sides of a cube; the use of a cross to denote a
square 95
A triangular piece requires two or three views 96
To represent a ring having hexagon cross section; examples; a rectangular
piece in two views 98
The position of the piece when in its place determines the name of the
view in the drawing 103
View of a lever 105
Best method of projecting one view from another; the two systems of
different views of a piece 106
CHAPTER VII.
EXAMPLES IN BOLTS, NUTS AND POLYGONS.
To represent the thread of a small screw 112
A bolt with a hexagon head 113
United States standard sizes for forged or unfinished bolts and nuts 116
The basis of the Franklin Institute or United States standard for bolts
and nuts; hexagonal or hexagon heads of bolts 118
Comparison of hexagon and square heads of bolts; chamfers 120
Without chamfer; best plan for view of both square and hexagon heads 123
Drawing different views of hexagon heads 125
To draw a square-headed bolt; to draw the end view of a hexagon head 125
Use of the triangle to divide circles 129
Scales giving the length of the sides of polygons 135
To find what a square body which measures one inch on each side measures
across the corners; to find what diameter a cylindrical piece of
wood must be turned to which is to be squared, and each side of which
square must measure an inch 136
To find a radius across corners of a hexagon or a six sided figure, the
length of a side being an inch 138
To draw a stud 142
To pencil in a cap nut; pencilling for a link having the hubs on one side
only 145
Link with hubs on both sides; pencil lines for a double eye or a knuckle
joint 146
Double eye or knuckle joint with an offset; a connecting rod end 147
A rod end with a round stem 148
A bolt with a square under the head 149
Example in which the corner where the round stem meets the square
under the head is sharp; a centre punch giving an example in
which the flat sides gradually run out upon a circle, the edges
forming curves 150
CHAPTER VIII.
SCREW THREADS AND SPIRALS.
Screw threads for small bolts with the angles of the thread drawn in, and
the method of doing this 152
A double thread; a round top and bottom thread such as the Whitworth
thread; a left hand thread; to draw screw threads of a large
diameter 156
Drawing the curves for screw threads 157
To draw the United States standard thread 160
To draw a square thread 162
Form of template for drawing the curves of threads 165
To show the thread depth in a top or end view of a nut; to draw a spiral
spring 166
To obtain an accurate division of the lines that divide the pitch 167
CHAPTER IX.
EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE.
A locomotive spring; a stuffing box and gland; working drawings of a
coupling rod; dimensions and directions marked; a connecting rod
drawn and put together as it would be for the lathe, vise, or erecting
shop 169
Drawings for the blacksmith 172
A locomotive frame 174
Reducing scales 175
Making a drawing to scale 177
CHAPTER X.
PROJECTIONS.
A spiral wound around a cylinder whose end is cut off at an angle 178
A cylindrical body joining another at a right-angle; a Tee for
example 180
Other examples of Tees 181
Example of a cylinder intersecting a cone 186
A cylindrical body whose top face if viewed from one point would appear as
a straight line, or from another a circle 188
CHAPTER XI.
DRAWING GEAR WHEELS.
Names of the curves and lines of gear teeth 193
How to draw spur wheel teeth 194
Professor Willis' scale of tooth proportions 195
The application of the scale 197
How to find the curve for the tooth face 198
To trace hypocycloides for the flanks of teeth 200
Sectional view of a section of a wheel for showing the dimensions through
the arms and hub 202
To draw an edge view of a wheel; rules for drawing the teeth of wheels;
bevel gear wheels 203
The construction to find the curves 204
To draw the arcs for the teeth 205
To draw the pitch circle of the inner and small end of the pinion
teeth 206
One-half of a bevel gear and an edge view projected from the same 207
A pair of bevel wheels shown in section; drawing of a part of an Ames
lathe feed motion; small bevel gears 208
Example in which part of the gear is shown with teeth in, and the
remainder illustrated by circles; drawings of part of the feed
motion of a Niles horizontal tool work boring mill 209
Three bevel gears, one of which is line-shaded; the construction of oval
gearing; Professor Rankine's process for rectifying and subdividing
circular arcs 210
Various examples of laying out gear wheels 214
CHAPTER XII.
PLOTTING MECHANICAL MOTIONS.
To find how much motion an eccentric will give to its rod 223
To find how much a given amount of motion of a long arm will move the
short arm of a lever 224
Example of the end of a lever acting directly on a shoe; a short arm
having a roller acting upon a larger roller 225
A link introduced in the place of the roller to find the amount of motion
of the rod; a lever actuating a plunger in a vertical line, to find
how much a given amount of motion of the long arm will actuate the
plunger 226
Two levers upon their axles or shafts, the arms connected by a link and
one arm connected to a rod 227
A lever arm and cam in one piece on a shaft, a shoe sliding on the line,
and held against the cam face by the rod, to find the position of the
face of the shoe against the cam 228
To find the amount of motion imparted in a straight line to a rod,
attached to an eccentric strap 229
Examples in drawing the cut off cams employed instead of eccentrics on
river steamboats in the Western and Southern States. Different views
of a pair of cams 232
The object of using a cam instead of an eccentric 234
Method of drawing or marking out a full stroke cam 237
Illustration of the lines embracing cut off cams of varying limits of
cut-off 240
Part played by the stroke of the engine in determining the conformation
of cut-off cams; manner of finding essential points of drawings of
cutoff cams 241
A cam designed to cut off the steam at five-eighths of the piston
stroke 244
Three-fourths and seven-eighths cams 246
Necessary imperfections in the operations of cut-off cams 247
Drawing representing the motion which a crank imparts to a connecting
rod 249
Plotting out the motion of a shaper link quick return 250
Plotting out the Whitworth quick return motion employed in machines 253
Finding the curves for moulding cutters 257
CHAPTER XIII.
EXAMPLES IN LINE-SHADING AND DRAWING FOR LINE-SHADED
ENGRAVINGS.
Arrangement of idle pulleys to guide bolts from one pulley to another;
representation of a cutting tool for a planing machine 264
Drawings for photo-engraving 267
Drawing for an engraver in wood; drawings for engravings by the wax
process 268
Engraving made by the wax process from a print from a wood engraving;
engravings of a boiler drilling machine 269
CHAPTER XIV.
SHADING AND COLORING DRAWINGS.
Coloring the journals of shafts; simple shading; drawing cast-iron,
wrought iron, steel and copper 277
Points to be observed in coloring and shading; drawings to be
glued around their edges to the drawing board; to maintain an even
shade of color; mixing colors 278
To graduate the depth of tint for a cylindrical surface 279
The size and use of brushes; light in shading; example for shading a
Medart pulley 280
Brush shading 281
To show by the shading that the surfaces are highly polished;
representation of an oil cup; representation of an iron planing
machine 282
Example in shading of Blake's patent direct acting steam pump 284
Example of shading an independent condenser 288
CHAPTER XV.
EXAMPLES OF ENGINE WORK.
Drawings of an automatic high speed engine; side and end views of the
engine; vertical section of the cylinder through the valve face 289
Valve motion; governor 292
Pillow box, block crank-pin, wheel and main journal 294
Side and edge view of the connecting rod 295
A two hundred horse power horizontal steam boiler for a stationary engine;
cross sectional view of the boiler shell 296
Side elevation, end view of the boiler, and setting 297
Working drawings of a one hundred horse power engine; plan and side
view of the bed plate, with the main bearing and guide bars; cross
sections of the bed plate; side elevation of the cylinder, with end
view of the same 299
Steam chest side and horizontal cross section of the cylinder; steam chest
and the valves; cam wrist plate and cut-off mechanism; shaft for the
cam plate; cross head; side view and section through the centre of
the eccentric and strap 301
Construction of the connecting rod 303
INDEX 305
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Transcriber's note: In this text $T$ indicates a larger capital letter.|
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
MECHANICAL DRAWING
SELF-TAUGHT.
CHAPTER I.
_THE DRAWING BOARD._
A Drawing Board should be of soft pine and free from knots, so that it
will easily receive the pins or tacks used to fasten down the paper. Its
surface should be flat and level, or a little rounding, so that the
paper shall lie close to its surface, which is one of the first
requisites in making a good drawing. Its edges should be straight and at
a right angle one to the other, and the ends of the battens B B in
Figure 1 should fall a little short of the edge A of the board, so that
if the latter shrinks they will not protrude. The size of the board of
course depends upon the size of the paper, hence it is best to obtain a
board as small as will answer for the size of paper it is intended to
use. The student will find it most convenient as well as cheapest to
learn on small drawings rather than large ones, since they take less
time to make, and cost less for paper; and although they require more
skill to make, yet are preferable for the beginner, because he does not
require to reach so far over the board, and furthermore, they teach him
more quickly and effectively. He who can make a fair drawing having
short lines and small curves can make a better one if it has large
curves, etc., because it is easier to draw a large than a very small
circle or curve. It is unnecessary to enter into a description of the
various kinds of drawing boards in use, because if the student purchases
one he will be duly informed of the kinds and their special features,
while if he intends to make one the sketch in Figure 1 will give him all
the information he requires, save that, as before noted, the wood must
be soft pine, well seasoned and free from knots, while the battens B
should be dovetailed in and the face of the board trued after they are
glued and driven in. To true the edges square, it is best to make the
two longest edges parallel and straight, and then the ends may be
squared from those long edges.
[Illustration: Fig. 1.]
THE $T$ SQUARE.
Drawing squares or T squares, as they are termed, are made of wood, of
hard rubber and of steel.
There are several kinds of T squares; in one the blade is solid, as it
is shown in Figure 5 on page 20; in another the back of the square is
pivoted, so that the blade can be set to draw lines at an angle as well
as across the board, which is often very convenient, although this
double back prevents the triangles, when used in some positions, from
coming close enough to the left hand side of the board. In an improved
form of steel square, with pivoted blade, shown in Figure 2, the back is
provided with a half circle divided into the degrees of a circle, so
that the blade can be set to any required degree of angle at once.
[Illustration: Fig. 2.]
[Illustration: Fig. 3.]
[Illustration: Fig. 4.]
THE TRIANGLES.
[Illustration: Fig. 5.]
Two triangles are all that are absolutely necessary for a beginner. The
first is that shown in Figure 3, which is called a triangle of 45
degrees, because its edge A is at that angle to edges B and C. That in
Figure 4 is called a triangle of 60 degrees, its edge A being at 60
degrees to B, and at 30 degrees to C. The edges P and C are at a right
angle or an angle of 90 degrees in both figures; hence they are in this
respect alike. By means of these triangles alone, a great many straight
line drawings may be made with ease without the use of a drawing square;
but it is better for the beginner to use the square at first. The manner
of using these triangles with the square is shown in Figure 5, in which
the triangle, Figure 3, is shown in three positions marked D E F, and
that shown in Figure 4 is shown in three positions, marked respectively
G H and I. It is obvious, however, that by turning I over, end for end,
another position is attained. The usefulness in these particular
triangles is because in the various positions shown they are capable of
use for drawing a very large proportion of the lines that occur in
mechanical drawing. The principal requirement in their use is to hold
them firmly to the square-blade without moving it, and without
permitting them to move upon it. The learner will find that this is best
attained by so regulating the height of the square-blade that the line
to be drawn does not come down too near the bottom of the triangle or
edge of the square-blade, nor too high on the triangle; that is to say,
too near its uppermost point. It is the left-hand edge of the triangle
that is used, whenever it can be done, to produce the required line.
[Illustration: Fig. 6.]
CURVES.
To draw curves that are not formed of arcs or parts of circles,
templates called curves are provided, examples of these forms being
given in Figure 6. They are made in wood and in hard rubber, the latter
being most durable; their uses are so obvious as to require no
explanation. It may be remarked, however, that the use of curves gives
excellent practice, because they must be adjusted very accurately to
produce good results, and the drawing pen must be held in the same
vertical plane, or the curve drawn will not be true in its outline.
DRAWING INSTRUMENTS.
It is not intended or necessary to enter into an elaborate discussion of
the various kinds of drawing instruments, since the purchaser can obtain
a good set of drawing instruments from a reputable dealer by paying a
proportionate price, and must _per force_ learn to use such as his means
enable him to purchase. It is recommended that the beginner purchase as
good a set of instruments as his means will permit, and that if his
means are limited he purchase less than a full set of instruments,
having the same of good quality.
All the instruments that need be used in the examples of this book are
as follows:
A small spring bow-pen for circles, a lining pen or pen for straight
lines, a small spring bow-pencil for circles, a large bow-pen with a
removable leg to replace by a divider leg or a pencil leg, and having an
extension piece to increase its capacity.
The spring bow-pen should have a stiff spring, and should be opened out
to its full capacity to see that the spring acts well when so opened
out, keeping the legs stiff when opened for the larger diameters. The
purchaser should see that the joint for opening and closing the legs is
an easy but not a loose fit on the screw, and that the legs will not
move sideways. To test this latter, which is of great importance in the
spring bow-pencil as well as in the pen, it is well to close the legs
nearly together and taking one leg in one hand and the other leg in the
other hand (between the forefinger and thumb), pushing and pulling them
sideways, any motion in that direction being sufficient to condemn the
instrument. It is safest and best to have the two legs of the bow-pen
and pencil made from one piece of metal, and not of two separate pieces
screwed together at the top, as the screw will rarely hold them firmly
together. The points should be long and fine, and as round as possible.
In very small instruments separate points that are fastened with a screw
are objectionable, because, in very small circles, they hide the point
and make it difficult to apply the instrument to the exact proper point
or spot on the drawing.
The joints of the large bow or circle-pen should also be somewhat stiff,
and quite free from side motion, and the extension piece should be
rigidly secured when held by the screw. It is a good plan in purchasing
to put in the extension piece, open the joint and the pen to their
fullest, and draw a circle, moving the pen in one direction, and then
redraw it, moving it in the other direction, and if one line only
appears and that not thickened by the second drawing, the pen is a good
one.
The lead pencil should be of hard lead, and it is recommended that they
be of the H, H, H, H, H, H, in the English grades, which corresponds to
the V, V, H, of the Dixon grade. The pencil lines should be made as
lightly as possible; first, because the presence of the lead on the
paper tends to prevent the ink from passing to the paper; and, secondly,
because in rubbing out the pencil lines the ink lines are reduced in
blackness and the surface of the paper becomes roughened, so that it
will soil easier and be harder to clean. In order to produce fine pencil
lines without requiring a very frequent sharpening of the pencil it is
best to sharpen the pencil as in Figures 7 and 8, so that the edge shall
be long in the direction in which it is moved, which is denoted by the
arrow in Figure 7. But when very fine work is to be done, as in the case
of Patent Office drawings, a long, round point is preferable, because
the eye can see plainer just where the pencil will begin to mark and
leave off; hence the pencil lines will not be so liable to overrun.
[Illustration: Fig. 7.]
[Illustration: Fig. 8.]
In place of the ordinary wood-covered lead pencils there may be obtained
at the drawing material | 2,187.951937 |
2023-11-16 18:53:31.9327270 | 402 | 9 |
Produced by David Widger. HTML version by Al Haines.
MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
A SELECT PARTY
The man of fancy made an entertainment at one of his castles in the
air, and invited a select number of distinguished personages to
favor him with their presence. The mansion, though less splendid
than many that have been situated in the same region, was
nevertheless of a magnificence such as is seldom witnessed by those
acquainted only with terrestrial architecture. Its strong
foundations and massive walls were quarried out of a ledge of heavy
and sombre clouds which had hung brooding over the earth, apparently
as dense and ponderous as its own granite, throughout a whole
autumnal day. Perceiving that the general effect was gloomy,--so
that the airy castle looked like a feudal fortress, or a monastery
of the Middle Ages, or a state prison of our own times, rather than
the home of pleasure and repose which he intended it to be,--the
owner, regardless of expense, resolved to gild the exterior from top
to bottom. Fortunately, there was just then a flood of evening
sunshine in the air. This being gathered up and poured abundantly
upon the roof and walls, imbued them with a kind of solemn
cheerfulness; while the cupolas and pinnacles were made to glitter
with the purest gold, and all the hundred windows gleamed with a
glad light, as if the edifice itself were rejoicing in its heart.
And now, if the people of the lower world chanced to be looking
upward out of the turmoil of their petty perplexities, they probably
mistook the castle in the air for a heap of sunset clouds, to which
the magic of light and shade had imparted the aspect | 2,187.952767 |
2023-11-16 18:53:32.0265940 | 188 | 7 |
Produced by Annie McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S
YOUNG PEOPLE
AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]
* * * * *
VOL. I.--NO. 3. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, November 18, 1879. Copyright, 1879, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE TOURNAMENT.--DRAWN BY JAMES E. KELLY.]
THE TOURNAMENT.
Great rivalry arose once between James and Henry, two school-mates and
warm friends, and all on account of a pretty girl who went to the same
school. Each one wanted to walk with her, | 2,188.046634 |
2023-11-16 18:53:32.0309660 | 1,064 | 17 |
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CAPS AND CAPERS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _Frontispiece--Caps and Capers_.
"NOW, GIRLS, COME ON! LET'S EAT OUR CREAM." See p. 92.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CAPS and CAPERS
A Story of Boarding-School Life
by
GABRIELLE E. JACKSON
Author of "Pretty Polly Perkins,"
"Denise and Ned Toodles," "By Love's
Sweet Rule," "The Colburn Prize,"
etc., etc.
With illustrations
by C. M. Relyea
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1901, by Henry Altemus
------------------------------------------------------------------------
To
the dear girls of "Dwight School,"
who, by their sweet friendship, have unconsciously helped to make
this winter one of the happiest she has ever known, this little
story is most affectionately inscribed by the AUTHOR.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Which Shall It Be? 13
II. "A Touch Can Make or a Touch Can Mar" 21
III. "A Feeling of Sadness and Longing" 29
IV. New Experiences 41
V. Two Sides of a Question 53
VI. Dull and Prosy 63
VII. The P. U. L. 71
VIII. Caps and Capers 81
IX. A Modern Diogenes 89
X. "They Could Never Deceive Me" 97
XI. "La Somnambula" 107
XII. "Have You Not Been Deceived This Time?" 119
XIII. English as She is Spelled 127
XIV. "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells" 135
XV. "Pride Goeth Before a Fall" 143
XVI. Letters 153
XVII. "Haf Anybody Seen My Umbrel?" 161
XVIII. The Little Hinge 169
XIX. "Fatal or Fated are Moments" 179
XX. "Now Tread We a Measure." 187
XXI. Conspirators 197
XXII. "We've Got 'em! We've Got 'em!" 205
XXIII. A Camera's Capers. 213
XXIV. Whispers 225
XXV. "What Are You Doing Up this Time of Night?" 233
XXVI. "Love (and Schoolgirls) Laugh at Locksmiths" 243
XXVII. Ariadne's Clue 253
XXVIII. "When Buds And Blossoms Burst" 261
XXIX. Commencement 271
XXX. "O Fortunate, O Happy Day" 279
------------------------------------------------------------------------
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"Now, girls, come on! let's eat our cream." Frontispiece
"You could have popped me over from ambush." 37
"Do you wish to join the P. U. L.?" 71
"Go, tell Mrs. Stone she isn't up to snuff." 109
"Sthick to yer horses, Moik." 141
"Let us begin a brand new leaf to-day." 165
"I feel so sort of grown up and grand." 181
"An' have ye been in there all this time?" 207
"Away went Marie, vanishing bit by bit." 231
"Her hand resting lightly on the arm of her friend." 267
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I
WHICH SHALL IT BE?
"And now that I have them, how am I to decide? That is the question?"
The speaker was a fine-looking man about thirty-five years of age, seated
before a large writing-table in a handsomely appointed library. It was
littered with catalogues, pamphlets, letters and papers sent from dozens
of schools, and from the quantity of them one would fancy that every
school in the country was represented. This was the result of an
advertisement in the "Times" for a school in which young children are
received, carefully trained, thoroughly taught, and which can furnish
unquestionable references regarding its social standing and other
qualifications.
It was a handsome, but seriously perplexed, face which bent over the
letters, and more than once the shapely hand was raised to the puckered
forehead and the fingers thrust impatiently through the golden brown hair | 2,188.051006 |
2023-11-16 18:53:32.1291830 | 346 | 15 |
Produced by Ted Garvin, William Flis and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
TOASTS
AND FORMS OF PUBLIC ADDRESS
FOR THOSE WHO WISH TO SAY
THE RIGHT THING IN THE RIGHT WAY
BY
WILLIAM PITTENGER
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES--ANCIENT AND MODERN
VALUE OF A GOOD STORY AND HOW TO INTRODUCE IT
PURPOSE OF AFTER-DINNER SPEAKING
SOME A B C DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING SPEECHES, TOASTS, AND RESPONSES
HOLIDAY SPEECHES
Fourth of July
Memorial Day
Washington's Birthday
Christmas
Thanksgiving
PRESENTATION ADDRESSES
ADDRESSES OF WELCOME
WEDDING AND OTHER ANNIVERSARIES
TOASTS
Sentiments Suggested by a Toast
Miscellaneous Toasts
Humorous Toasts
MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESSES
Centennial or Semi-Centennial
Dedication of a Monument or Unveiling a Statue
Birthday Celebration
Reception
Responses to Toasts at a Dinner
Responses to Toasts to The Navy
Responses to Toasts to General Jackson
Responses to Toasts to The Workingman
Nominating a Candidate
Accepting a Nomination
Speech in a Political Canvass
Speech after a Political Victory
Speech after a Political Defeat
A Chairman's or President's Speech
For Any Occasion
ILLUSTRATIVE AND HUMOROUS | 2,188.149223 |
2023-11-16 18:53:32.2308720 | 1,027 | 15 |
Produced by Mirjam, Suzanne Shell 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.)
TRANSCRIBER NOTE:
Words that were printed in italics are marked with _ _.
Obvious inconsistencies, printing and spelling errors in the original
have been corrected.
THE
Weird of the Wentworths;
A TALE OF GEORGE IV.'S TIME.
BY
JOHANNES SCOTUS.
All nations have their omens drear.
Their legends wild of woe and fear.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
[Illustration: SANS CHANGER]
IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. I.
LONDON: SAUNDERS, OTLEY, AND CO., 66 BROOK STREET, HANOVER SQUARE 1862.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING
CROSS.
PREFACE.
The objection may be raised that, as the major part of this Romance
takes place during the Regency, such a title as:--"The Weird of the
Wentworths; _a Tale of George IV.'s Time_,"--is inappropriate. When,
however, it is considered that the Regent was king in all but name, and
the manners, customs, and habits differed little after his accession,
the inadvertency will be explained.
In case of exception being taken to the language and sentiments of some
characters introduced into the tale, the Author thinks it sufficient to
say _he utterly repudiates them_! Oaths and ribaldry are, unfortunately,
the concomitants of a depraved mind; and, in delineating faithfully the
darker side of human nature, the Author felt himself compelled to sketch
much that has passed under his own observation, and much that he has
gleaned from the treatment of such characters by many distinguished
novelists, not omitting our northern luminary, Sir Walter Scott.
The moral of the Romance being the triumph of virtue over vice, and
truth over falsehood, he trusts that those fair readers, who may
indulge his work with a perusal, will avoid the dark, and embrace the
bright traits of the other sex; and, marking the gradual development of
rectitude in the character of his heroine, magnify their own by adhering
fixedly to the path of duty and moral conduct, amid all temptations to
swerve from it.
The Author trusts that those noble families, whose names he has chosen
as his _beaux ideals_, will kindly dismiss all personal associations
from their minds, and simply give to the synonyms (which his not
unpardonable preference led him to select) that weight which will ever
attach itself in the eyes of the world, to the great, when also good.
There is one more point which may give rise to discussion--the rapid and
violent deaths occurring in _one_ family. The WEIRD, which, though kept
in the background, is the mainspring of the tale, might explain this;
but that such catastrophes are not beyond the region of possibility, the
Author begs to remind his readers that in more than one family of rank,
whose names both his sympathy and delicacy forbid any allusion to, such
misfortunes and fates have actually happened.
Some of the death-scenes, and very many of the traditions and incidents
embodied in the work, are taken from real life, which often far
surpasses fiction.
_Portobello, near_ EDINBURGH.
_June 19th, 1862._
THE WEIRD OF THE WENTWORTHS;
A TALE OF GEORGE IV.'s TIME.
CHAPTER I.
"And a magic voice and verse
Hath baptized thee with a curse."--_Manfred._
The extent of parents' influence on their offspring has long been a
matter of dispute; yet the fact remains incontestable that children _do_
suffer for their parents' faults, that the sins of the father _are_
visited not only to the third and fourth generation, but often to a
distance that can scarcely be conceived. The leprosy of Naaman cleaved
to Gehazi's seed _for ever_, and it is said many of these unhappy
sufferers still trace their misery to their ancestor's mendacity. We
read in Grecian history how Myrtilus, as he sank, cursed the faithless
Pelops and his race for ever; and we see its dire effects in the
misfortunes of Agamemnon and Iphigenia:--
"Atoning for her father's sin,
A joyless sacrifice."
We might cite the | 2,188.250912 |
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Buffalo Bill's Spy Trailer
OR,
THE STRANGER IN CAMP
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham
Author of the celebrated "Buffalo Bill" stories published in the BORDER
STORIES. For other titles see catalogue.
[Illustration]
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1908
By STREET & SMITH
Buffalo Bill's Spy Trailer
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
IN APPRECIATION OF WILLIAM F. CODY
(BUFFALO BILL).
It is now some generations since Josh Billings, Ned Buntline, and
Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, intimate friends of Colonel William F. Cody,
used to forgather in the office of Francis S. Smith, then proprietor of
the _New York Weekly_. It was a dingy little office on Rose Street, New
York, but the breath of the great outdoors stirred there when these
old-timers got together. As a result of these conversations, Colonel
Ingraham and Ned Buntline began to write of the adventures of Buffalo
Bill for Street & Smith.
Colonel Cody was born in Scott County, Iowa, February 26, 1846. Before
he had reached his teens, his father, Isaac Cody, with his mother and
two sisters, migrated to Kansas, which at that time was little more than
a wilderness.
When the elder Cody was killed shortly afterward in the Kansas "Border
War," young Bill assumed the difficult role of family breadwinner.
During 1860, and until the outbreak of the Civil War, Cody lived the
arduous life of a pony-express rider. Cody volunteered his services as
government scout and guide and served throughout the Civil War with
Generals McNeil and A. J. Smith. He was a distinguished member of the
Seventh Kansas Cavalry.
During the Civil War, while riding through the streets of St. Louis,
Cody rescued a frightened schoolgirl from a band of annoyers. In true
romantic style, Cody and Louisa Federci, the girl, were married March 6,
1866.
In 1867 Cody was employed to furnish a specified amount of buffalo meat
to the construction men at work on the Kansas Pacific Railroad. It was
in this period that he received the sobriquet "Buffalo Bill."
In 1868 and for four years thereafter Colonel Cody served as scout and
guide in campaigns against the Sioux and Cheyenne Indians. It was
General Sheridan who conferred on Cody the honor of chief of scouts of
the command.
After completing a period of service in the Nebraska legislature, Cody
joined the Fifth Cavalry in 1876, and was again appointed chief of
scouts.
Colonel Cody's fame had reached the East long before, and a great many
New Yorkers went out to see him and join in his buffalo hunts, including
such men as August Belmont, James Gordon Bennett, Anson Stager, and
J. G. Heckscher. In entertaining these visitors at Fort McPherson, Cody
was accustomed to arrange wild-West exhibitions. In return his friends
invited him to visit New York. It was upon seeing his first play in the
metropolis that Cody conceived the idea of going into the show business.
Assisted by Ned Buntline, novelist, and Colonel Ingraham, he started his
"Wild West" show, which later developed and expanded into "A Congress of
the Rough-riders of the World," first presented at Omaha, Nebraska. In
time it became a familiar yearly entertainment in the great cities of
this country and Europe. Many famous personages attended the
performances, and became his warm friends, including Mr. Gladstone, the
Marquis of Lorne, King Edward, Queen Victoria, and the Prince of Wales,
now King of England.
At the outbreak of the Sioux, in 1890 and 1891, Colonel Cody served at
the head of the Nebraska National Guard. In 1895 Cody took up the
development of Wyoming Valley by introducing irrigation. Not long
afterward he became judge advocate general of the Wyoming National
Guard.
Colonel Cody (Buffalo Bill) died in Denver, Colorado, on January 10,
1917. His legacy to a grateful world was a large share in the
development of the West, and a multitude of achievements in
horsemanship, marksmanship, and endurance that will live for ages. His
life will continue to be a leading example of the manliness, courage,
and devotion to duty that belonged to a picturesque phase of American
life now passed, like the great patriot whose career it typified, into
the Great Beyond.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
I. THE HERMIT OF THE GRAND CANYON 5
II. THE MINER'S SECRET 14
III. | 2,188.253977 |
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Transcriber's note:
Several minor typographical errors have been corrected in
transcribing this work: contineu, secresy, bubling,
reconnoissance, cotemporary, delived (should be delivered),
eat (ate), Alleghany, amendmet, lage (large). Otherwise the
text is original and retains some inconsistent or outdated
spellings.
The original contains two lengthy addenda supplied by the
publisher which were not named in the Table of Contents.
Entries for these have been added to the Contents for
the convenience of the reader.
Despite the many testimonials in this book, as of 2008, the
source of the Mississippi is considered to be Lake Itasca.
Following a five-month investigation in 1891 it was decided
that the stream from Elk Lake (the body that Glazier would
have called Lake Glazier) into Itasca is too insignificant
to be deemed the river's source. Both lakes can be seen,
looking much as they do in the maps in this book, by directing
any online mapping service to 47 deg.11'N, 95 deg.14'W.
SWORD AND PEN
* * * * *
POPULAR WORKS OF
Captain Willard Glazier.
THE SOLDIER-AUTHOR.
I. Soldiers of the Saddle.
II. Capture, Prison-Pen, and Escape.
III. Battles for the Union.
IV. Heroes of Three Wars.
V. Peculiarities of American Cities.
VI. Down the Great River.
Captain Glazier's works are growing more and more popular
every day. Their delineations of military life, constantly
varying scenes, and deeply interesting stories, combine to
place their writer in the front rank of American authors.
SOLD ONLY BY SUBSCRIPTION.
PERSONS DESIRING AGENCIES FOR ANY OF CAPTAIN GLAZIER'S
BOOKS SHOULD ADDRESS
THE PUBLISHERS
* * * * *
[Illustration: (signed) Willard Glazier]
SWORD AND PEN;
or,
Ventures and Adventures
of
WILLARD GLAZIER,
(The Soldier-Author,)
In
War and Literature:
Comprising
Incidents and Reminiscences of His Childhood; His
Chequered Life As a Student and Teacher; and His
Remarkable Career As a Soldier and Author;
Embracing Also the Story of His Unprecedented
Journey from Ocean to Ocean
on Horseback; and an Account of
His Discovery of the True Source
of the Mississippi River, and
Canoe Voyage Thence to
the Gulf of Mexico.
by
JOHN ALGERNON OWENS.
Illustrated.
Philadelphia:
P. W. Ziegler &. Company, Publishers,
720 Chestnut Street.
1890.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by
John Algernon Owens,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C.
PREFACE.
No apology will be required from the author for presenting to the public
some episodes in the useful career of a self-made man; and while the
spirit of patriotism continues to animate the sturdy sons of America,
the story of one of them who has exemplified this national trait in a
conspicuous measure, will be deemed not unworthy of record. The lessons
it teaches, more especially to the young, are those of uncompromising
_duty_ in every relation of life--self-denial, perseverance and "pluck;"
while the successive stages of a course which led ultimately to a
brilliant success, may be studied with some advantage by those just
entering upon the business of life. As a soldier, Willard Glazier was
"without fear and without reproach." As an author, it is sufficient to
say, he is appreciated by his _contemporaries_--than which, on a
literary man, no higher encomium can be passed. The sale of nearly half
a million copies of one of his productions is no slight testimony to its
value.
Biography, to be interesting, must be a transcript of an eventful, as
well as a remarkable career; and to be instructive, its subject should
be exemplary in his aims, and in his mode of attaining them. The hero of
this story comes fully up to the standard thus indicated. His career has
been a romance. Born of parents of small means but of excellent
character and repute; and bred and nurtured in the midst of some of the
wildest and grandest scenery in the rugged county of St. Lawrence,
close by the "Thousand Isles," where New York best proves her right to
be called the Empire State through the stamp of royalty on her hills and
streams--under the shadow of such surroundings as these, my subject
attained maturity, with no opportunities for culture except those he
made for himself. Yet he became possessed of an education eminently
useful, essentially practical and calculated to establish just such
habits of self-reliance and decision as afterwards proved chiefly
instrumental in his success. Glazier had a fixed ambition to rise. He
felt that the task would be difficult of accomplishment--that he must be
not only the architect, but the builder of his own fortunes; and, as the
statue grows beneath the sculptor's hand to perfect contour from the
unshapely block of marble, so prosperity came to Captain Glazier only
after he had cut and chiseled away at the hard surface of inexorable
circumstance, and moulded therefrom the statue of his destiny.
J. A. O.
Philadelphia, _June 14th_, 1880.
* * * * *
TO
THE MEMORY OF
ULYSSES SIMPSON GRANT,
WHOSE SWORD,
AND TO THAT OF
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW,
WHOSE PEN,
Have so Nobly Illustrated the Valor and Genius of their Country:
THE AUTHOR,
In a Spirit of Profound Admiration for
THE RENOWNED SOLDIER,
And of Measureless Gratitude to
THE IMMORTAL WRITER,
Dedicates This Book.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
ORIGIN OF THE GLAZIER FAMILY.
Lineage of Willard Glazier.--A good stock.--Oliver Glazier at the
Battle of Bunker Hill.--The home of honest industry.--The Coronet of
Pembroke.--The "Homestead Farm."--Mehitable Bolton.--Her New England
home.--Her marriage to Ward Glazier.--The wild "North Woods."--The
mother | 2,188.647819 |
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THE GOLD BAG
By Carolyn Wells
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK
II. THE CRAWFORD HOUSE
III. THE CORONER'S JURY
IV. THE INQUEST
V. FLORENCE LLOYD
VI. THE GOLD BAG
VII. YELLOW ROSES
VIII. FURTHER INQUIRY
IX. THE TWELFTH ROSE
X. THE WILL
XI. LOUIS'S STORY
XII. LOUIS'S CONFESSION
XIII. MISS LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE
XIV. MR. PORTER'S VIEWS.
XV. THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED
XVI. A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS
XVII. THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG
XVIII. IN MR. GOODRICH'S OFFICE
XIX. THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN
XX. FLEMING STONE
XXI. THE DISCLOSURE
THE GOLD BAG
I. THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK
Though a young detective, I am not entirely an inexperienced one, and
I have several fairly successful investigations to my credit on the
records of the Central Office.
The Chief said to me one day: "Burroughs, if there's a mystery to be
unravelled; I'd rather put it in your hands than to trust it to any
other man on the force.
"Because," he went on, "you go about it scientifically, and you
never jump at conclusions, or accept them, until they're indubitably
warranted."
I declared myself duly grateful for the Chief's kind words, but I was
secretly a bit chagrined. A detective's ambition is to be, considered
capable of jumping at conclusions, only the conclusions must always
prove to be correct ones.
But though I am an earnest and painstaking worker, though my habits are
methodical and systematic, and though I am indefatigably patient and
persevering, I can never make those brilliant deductions from seemingly
unimportant clues that Fleming Stone can. He holds that it is nothing
but observation and logical inference, but to me it is little short of
clairvoyance.
The smallest detail in the way of evidence immediately connotes in his
mind some important fact that is indisputable, but which would never
have occurred to me. I suppose this is largely a natural bent of his
brain, for I have not yet been able to achieve it, either by study or
experience.
Of course I can deduce some facts, and my colleagues often say I am
rather clever at it, but they don't know Fleming Stone as well as I
do, and don't realize that by comparison with his talent mine is
insignificant.
And so, it is both by way of entertainment, and in hope of learning from
him, that I am with him whenever possible, and often ask him to "deduce"
for me, even at risk of boring him, as, unless he is in the right mood,
my requests sometimes do.
I met him accidentally one morning when we both chanced to go into a
basement of the Metropolis Hotel in New York to have our shoes shined.
It was about half-past nine, and as I like to get to my office by ten
o'clock, I looked forward to a pleasant half-hour's chat with him. While
waiting our turn to get a chair, we stood talking, and, seeing a pair
of shoes standing on a table, evidently there to be cleaned, I said
banteringly:
"Now, I suppose, Stone, from looking at those shoes, you can deduce all
there is to know about the owner of them."
I remember that Sherlock Holmes wrote once, "From a drop of water, a
logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without
having seen or heard of one or the other," but when I heard Fleming
Stone's reply to my half-laughing challenge, I felt that he had outdone
the mythical logician. With a mild twinkle in his eye, but with a
perfectly grave face, he said slowly,
"Those shoes belong to a young man, five feet eight inches high. He does
not live in New York, but is here to visit his sweetheart. She lives in
Brooklyn, is five feet nine inches tall, and is deaf in her left ear.
They went to the theatre last night, and neither was in evening dress."
"Oh, pshaw!" said I, "as you are acquainted with this man, and know how
he spent last evening, your relation of the story doesn't interest me."
"I don't know him," Stone returned; "I've no idea what his name is,
I've never seen him, and except what I can read from these shoes I know
nothing about him."
I stared at him incredulously, as I always did when confronted by his
astonishing "ded | 2,188.649897 |
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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A LIST OF
_KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO.'S
PUBLICATIONS_.
_1, Paternoster Square, London_.
A LIST OF
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
GENERAL LITERATURE 2
PARCHMENT LIBRARY 18
PULPIT COMMENTARY 21
INTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC SERIES 30
MILITARY WORKS 33
POETRY 35
NOVELS AND TALES 41
BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG 43
GENERAL LITERATURE.
_A. K. H. B._--From a Quiet Place. A Volume of Sermons. Crown 8vo,
5_s._
_ALEXANDER, William, D.D., Bishop of Derry._--The Great Question, and
other Sermons. Crown 8vo, 6_s._
_ALLIES, T. W., M.A._--Per Crucem ad Lucem. The Result of a Life. 2
vols. Demy 8vo, 25_s._
A Life's Decision. Crown 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._
_AMHERST, Rev. W. J._--The History of Catholic Emancipation and the
Progress of the Catholic Church in the British Isles (chiefly in
England) from 1771-1820. 2 vols. Demy 8vo, 24_s._
_AMOS, Professor Sheldon._--The History and Principles of the Civil Law
of Rome. An aid to the Study of Scientific and Comparative
Jurisprudence. Demy 8vo, 16_s._
Ancient and Modern Britons. A Retrospect. 2 vols. Demy 8vo, 24_s._
_ARISTOTLE._--The Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle. Translated by F. H.
Peters, M.A. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, 6_s._
_AUBERTIN, J. J._--A Flight to Mexico. With 7 full-page Illustrations
and a Railway Map of Mexico. Crown 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._
Six Months in Cape Colony and Natal. With Illustrations and
Map. Crown 8vo, 6_s._
Aucassin and Nicolette. Edited in Old French and rendered in Modern
English by F. W. BOURDILLON. Fcap 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._
_AUCHMUTY, A. C._--Dives and Pauper, and other Sermons. Crown 8vo,
3_s._ 6_d._
_AZARIUS, Brother._--Aristotle and the Christian Church. Small crown
8vo, 3_s._ 6_d._
_BADGER, George Percy, D.C.L._--An English-Arabic Lexicon. In which the
equivalent for English Words and Idiomatic Sentences are rendered into
literary and colloquial Arabic. Royal 4to, 80_s._
_BAGEHOT, Walter._--The English Constitution. Fourth Edition. Crown
8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._
Lombard Street. A Description of the Money Market. Eighth
Edition. Crown 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._
Essays on Parliamentary Reform. Crown 8vo, 5_s._
Some Articles on the Depreciation of Silver, and Topics
connected with it. Demy 8vo, 5_s._
_BAGOT, Alan, C.E._--Accidents in Mines: their Causes and Prevention.
Crown 8vo, 6_s._
The Principles of Colliery Ventilation. Second Edition,
greatly enlarged. Crown 8vo, 5_s._
The Principles of Civil Engineering as applied to
Agriculture and Estate Management. Crown 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._
_BAIRD, Henry M._--The Huguenots and Henry of Navarre. 2 vols. With
Maps. 8vo, 24_s._
_BALDWIN, Capt. J. H._--The Large and Small Game of Bengal and the
North-Western Provinces of India. With 20 Illustrations. New and
Cheaper Edition. Small 4to, 10_s._ 6_d._
_BALL, John, F.R.S._--Notes of a Naturalist in South America. With Map.
Crown 8vo, 8_s._ 6_d._
_BALLIN, Ada S. and F. L._--A Hebrew Grammar. With Exercises selected
from the Bible. Crown 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._
_BARCLAY, Edgar._--Mountain Life in Algeria. With numerous
Illustrations by Photogravure. Crown 4to, 16_s._
_BASU, K. P., M.A._--Students' Mathematical Companion. Containing
problems in Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry, and Mensuration, for
Students of the Indian Universities. Crown 8vo, 6_s._
_BAUR, Ferdinand, Dr. Ph._--A Philological Introduction to Greek and
Latin for Students. Translated and adapted from the German, by C. KEGAN
PAUL, M.A., and E. D. STONE, M.A. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, 6_s._
_BAYLY, Capt. George._--Sea Life Sixty Years Ago. A Record of
Adventures which led up to the Discovery of the Relics of the
long-missing Expedition commanded by the Comte de la Perouse. Crown
8vo, 3_s._ 6_d._
_BENSON, A. C._--William Laud, sometime Archbishop of Canterbury. A
Study. With Portrait. Crown 8vo, 6_s._
_BIRD, Charles, F.G.S._--Higher Education in Germany and England. Small
crown 8vo, 2_s._ 6_d._
Birth and Growth of Religion. A Book for Workers. Crown 8vo, cloth,
2_s._; paper covers, 1_s._
_BLACKBURN, Mrs. Hugh._--Bible Beasts and Birds. 22 Illustrations of
Scripture photographed from the Original. 4to, 42_s._
_BLECKLY, Henry._--Socrates and the Athenians: An Apology. Crown 8vo,
2_s._ 6_d._
_BLOOMFIELD, The Lady._--Reminiscences of Court and Diplomatic Life.
New and Cheaper Edition. With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, 6_s._
_BLUNT, The Ven. Archdeacon._--The Divine Patriot, and other Sermons.
Preached in Scarborough and in Cannes. New and Cheaper Edition. Crown
8vo, 4_s._ 6_d._
_BLUNT, Wilfrid S._--The Future of Islam. Crown 8vo, 6_s._
Ideas about India. Crown 8vo. Cloth, 6_s._
_BODDY, Alexander A._--To Kairwan the Holy. Scenes in Muhammedan
Africa. With Route Map, and Eight Illustrations by A. F. JACASSEY.
Crown 8vo, 6_s._
_BOSANQUET, Bernard._--Knowledge and Reality. A Criticism of Mr. F. H.
Bradley's "Principles of Logic." Crown 8vo, 9_s._
_BOUVERIE-PUSE | 2,188.652357 |
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THE GEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE OF THE ANTIQUITY OF MAN
By Sir Charles Lyell, BT., F.R.S., Etc.
London: Published By J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd.
And In New York By E.P. Dutton & Co.
With Introduction And Notes By R.H. Rastall, M.A., F.G.S.
EVERYMAN
I WILL GO WITH THEE
& BE THY GUIDE
IN THY MOST NEED
TO GO BY THY SIDE.
EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY
EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS.
SCIENCE.
HOC SOLUM SCIO QUOD NIHIL SCIO.
INTRODUCTION.
The "Antiquity of Man" was published in 1863, and ran into a third
edition in the course of that year. The cause of this is not far to
seek. Darwin's "Origin of Species" appeared in 1859, only four years
earlier, and rapidly had its effect in drawing attention to the great
problem of the origin of living beings. The theories of Darwin and
Wallace brought to a head and presented in a concrete shape the somewhat
vague speculations as to development and evolution which had long been
floating in the minds of naturalists. In the actual working out of
Darwin's great theory it is impossible to overestimate the influence of
Lyell. This is made abundantly clear in Darwin's letters, and it must
never be forgotten that Darwin himself was a geologist. His training
in this science enabled him to grasp the import of the facts so ably
marshalled by Lyell in the "Principles of Geology," a work which,
as Professor Judd has clearly shown,* contributed greatly to the
advancement of evolutionary theory in general. (* Judd "The Coming of
Evolution" ("Cambridge Manuals of Science and Literature") Cambridge
1910 chapters 6 and 7.)
From a study of the evolution of plants and of the lower animals it was
an easy and obvious transition to man, and this step was soon taken.
Since in his physical structure man shows so close a resemblance to the
higher animals it was a natural conclusion that the laws governing
the development of the one should apply also to the other, in spite of
preconceived opinions derived from authority. Unfortunately the times
were then hardly ripe for a calm and logical treatment of this question:
prejudice in many cases took the place of argument, and the result was
too often an undignified squabble instead of a scientific discussion.
However, the dogmatism was not by any means all on one side. The
disciples as usual went farther than the master, and their teaching
when pushed to extremities resulted in a peculiarly dreary kind of
materialism, a mental attitude which still survives to a certain extent
among scientific and pseudo-scientific men of the old school. In more
Recent times this dogmatic agnosticism of the middle Victorian period
has been gradually replaced by speculations of a more positive type,
such as those of the Mendelian school in biology and the doctrines of
Bergson on the philosophical side. With these later developments we are
not here concerned.
In dealing with the evolution and history of man as with that of any
other animal, the first step is undoubtedly to collect the facts, and
this is precisely what Lyell set out to do in the "Antiquity of
Man." The first nineteen chapters of the book are purely an empirical
statement of the evidence then available as to the existence of man in
pre-historic times: the rest of the book is devoted to a consideration
of the connection between the facts previously stated and Darwin's
theory of the origin of species by variation and natural selection. The
keynote of Lyell's work, throughout his life, was observation. Lyell was
no cabinet geologist; he went to nature and studied phenomena at first
hand. Possessed of abundant leisure and ample means he travelled far and
wide, patiently collecting material and building up the modern science
of physical geology, whose foundations had been laid by Hutton and
Playfair. From the facts thus collected he drew his inferences, and if
later researches showed these inferences to be wrong, unlike some of his
contemporaries, he never hesitated to say so. Thus and thus only is true
progress in science attained.
Lyell is universally recognised as the leader of the Uniformitarian
school of geologists, and it will be well to consider briefly what is
implied in this term. The principles of Uniformitarianism may be
summed up thus: THE PRESENT IS THE KEY TO THE PAST. That is to say,
the processes which have gone on in the past were the same in general
character as those now seen in operation, though probably differing
in degree. This theory is in direct opposition to the ideas of the
CATASTROPHIC school, which were dominant at the beginning of the
nineteenth century. The catastrophists attributed all past changes to
sudden and violent convulsions of nature, by which all living beings
were destroyed, to be replaced by a fresh creation. At least such were
the tenets of the extremists. In opposition to these views the school of
Hutton and Lyell introduced the principle of continuity and development.
There is no discrepancy between Uniformitarianism and evolution. The
idea of Uniformitarianism does not imply that things have always been
the same; only that they were similar, and between these two terms there
is a wide distinction. Evolution of any kind whatever naturally implies
continuity, and this is the fundamental idea of Lyellian geology.
In spite, however, of this clear and definite conception of natural
and organic evolution, in all those parts of his works dealing with
earth-history, with the stratified rocks and with the organisms entombed
in them, Lyell adopted a plan which has now been universally abandoned.
He began with the most Recent formations and worked backwards from the
known to the unknown. To modern readers this is perhaps the greatest
drawback to his work, since it renders difficult the study of events in
their actual sequence. However, it must be admitted that, taking into
account the state of geological knowledge before his time, this course
was almost inevitable. The succession of the later rocks was fairly well
known, thanks to the labours of William Smith and others, but in the
lower part of the sequence of stratified rocks there were many gaps, and
more important still, there was no definite base. Although this want of
a starting point has been largely supplied by the labours of Sedgwick,
Murchison, De la Beche, Ramsay, and a host of followers, still
considerable doubt prevails as to which constitutes the oldest
truly stratified series, and the difficulty has only been partially
circumvented by the adoption of an arbitrary base-line, from which the
succession is worked out both upwards and downwards. So the problem
is only removed a stage further back. In the study of human origins a
similar difficulty is felt with special acuteness; the beginnings must
of necessity be vague and uncertain, and the farther back we go the
fainter will naturally be the traces of human handiwork and the more
primitive and doubtful those traces when discovered.
The reprinting of the "Antiquity of Man" is particularly appropriate at
the present time, owing to the increased attention drawn to the subject
by recent discoveries. Ever since the publication of the "Origin of
Species" and the discussions that resulted from that publication, the
popular imagination has been much exercised by the possible existence
of forms intermediate between the apes and man; the so-called "Missing
Link." Much has been written on this subject, some of it well-founded
and some very much the reverse. The discovery of the Neanderthal skull
is fully described in this volume, and this skull is certainly of a low
type, but it is more human than ape-like. The same | 2,188.653006 |
2023-11-16 18:53:32.7273460 | 1,666 | 8 | OF SINGING***
E-text prepared by Chuck Greif and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/)
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See 20069-h.htm or 20069-h.zip:
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CARUSO AND TETRAZZINI ON THE ART OF SINGING
by
ENRICO CARUSO and LUISA TETRAZZINI
Metropolitan Company, Publishers, New York, 1909.
PREFACE
In offering this work to the public the publishers wish to lay before
those who sing or who are about to study singing, the simple,
fundamental rules of the art based on common sense. The two greatest
living exponents of the art of singing--Luisa Tetrazzini and Enrico
Caruso--have been chosen as examples, and their talks on singing have
additional weight from the fact that what they have to say has been
printed exactly as it was uttered, the truths they expound are driven
home forcefully, and what they relate so simply is backed by years of
experience and emphasized by the results they have achieved as the two
greatest artists in the world.
Much has been said about the Italian Method of Singing. It is a question
whether anyone really knows what the phrase means. After all, if there
be a right way to sing, then all other ways must be wrong. Books have
been written on breathing, tone production and what singers should eat
and wear, etc., etc., all tending to make the singer self-conscious and
to sing with the brain rather than with the heart. To quote Mme.
Tetrazzini: "You can train the voice, you can take a raw material and
make it a finished production; not so with the heart."
The country is overrun with inferior teachers of singing; men and women
who have failed to get before the public, turn to teaching without any
practical experience, and, armed only with a few methods, teach these
alike to all pupils, ruining many good voices. Should these pupils
change teachers, even for the better, then begins the weary undoing of
the false method, often with no better result.
To these unfortunate pupils this book is of inestimable value. He or she
could not consistently choose such teachers after reading its pages.
Again the simple rules laid down and tersely and interestingly set forth
not only carry conviction with them, but tear away the veil of mystery
that so often is thrown about the divine art.
Luisa Tetrazzini and Enrico Caruso show what not to do, as well as what
to do, and bring the pupil back to first principles--the art of singing
naturally.
THE ART OF SINGING
By Luisa Tetrazzini
[Illustration: LUISA TETRAZZINI]
LUISA TETRAZZINI
INTRODUCTORY SKETCH OF THE CAREER OF THE WORLD-FAMOUS PRIMA DONNA
Luisa Tetrazzini, the most famous Italian coloratura soprano of the
day, declares that she began to sing before she learned to talk. Her
parents were not musical, but her elder sister, now the wife of the
eminent conductor Cleofante Campanini, was a public singer of
established reputation, and her success roused her young sister's
ambition to become a great artist. Her parents were well to do, her
father having a large army furnishing store in Florence, and they did
not encourage her in her determination to become a prima donna. One
prima donna, said her father, was enough for any family.
Luisa did not agree with him. If one prima donna is good, she argued,
why would not two be better? So she never desisted from her importunity
until she was permitted to become a pupil of Professor Coccherani, vocal
instructor at the Lycee. At this time she had committed to memory more
than a dozen grand opera roles, and at the end of six months the
professor confessed that he could do nothing more for her voice; that
she was ready for a career.
She made her bow to the Florentine opera going public, one of the most
critical in Italy, as Inez, in Meyerbeer's "L'Africaine," and her
success was so pronounced that she was engaged at a salary of $100 a
month, a phenomenal beginning for a young singer. Queen Margherita was
present on the occasion and complimented her highly and prophesied for
her a great career. She asked the trembling debutante how old she was,
and in the embarrassment of the moment Luisa made herself six years
older than she really was. This is one noteworthy instance in which a
public singer failed to discount her age.
Fame came speedily, but for a long time it was confined to Europe and
Latin America. She sang seven seasons in St. Petersburg, three in
Mexico, two in Madrid, four in Buenos Aires, and even on the Pacific
coast of America before she appeared in New York. She had sung Lucia
more than 200 times before her first appearance at Covent Garden, and
the twenty curtain calls she received on that occasion came as the
greatest surprise of her career. She had begun to believe that she could
never be appreciated by English-speaking audiences and the ovation
almost overcame her.
It was by the merest chance that Mme. Tetrazzini ever came to the
Manhattan Opera House in New York. The diva's own account of her
engagement is as follows:
"I was in London, and for a wonder I had a week, a wet week, on my
hands. You know people will do anything in a wet week in London.
"There were contracts from all over the Continent and South America
pending. There was much discussion naturally in regard to settlements
and arrangements of one kind and another.
"Suddenly, just like that"--she makes a butterfly gesture--"M.
Hammerstein came, and just like that"--a duplicate gesture--"I made up
my mind that I would come here. If his offer to me had been seven days
later I should not have signed, and if I had not I should undoubtedly
never have come, for a contract that I might have signed to go elsewhere
would probably have been for a number of years."
Voice experts confess that they are not able to solve the mystery of
Mme. Tetrazzini's wonderful management of her breathing.
"It is perfectly natural," she says. "I breathe low down in the
diaphragm, not, as some do, high up in the upper part of the chest. I
always hold some breath in reserve for the crescendos, employing only
what is absolutely necessary, and I renew the breath wherever it is
easiest.
"In breathing I find, as in other matters pertaining to singing, that as
one goes on and practices, no matter how long one may have been singing,
there are constantly new surprises awaiting one. You may have been
accustomed for years to take a note in a certain way, and after a long
while you discover that, while it is a very good way, there is a
better."
Breath Control The Foundation of Singing
There is only one way to sing correctly, and that is to sing naturally,
easily, comfortably.
The height of vocal art is to have no apparent method, but to be able to
sing with perfect facility | 2,188.747386 |
2023-11-16 18:53:32.7322440 | 1,707 | 9 |
Produced by Melissa McDaniel 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:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original book have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
The book frequently omits punctuation before quotes. The punctuation
has been retained as in the original. The length and spacing of
ellipses (...) has also been retained as printed.
There is no Chapter IV.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
[Illustration: _Elizabeth_.]
THE
ORDEAL OF
ELIZABETH
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY
J. F. TAYLOR AND
COMPANY, NEW YORK
THE ORDEAL
OF
ELIZABETH
_Chapter I_
The Van Vorst Homestead stands close to the road-side; a dark,
low-built, gloomy old place. The horse-shoe on the door, testifies to
its age, and the devout superstition of the Van Vorst who built it.
However effectual against witches, the horse-shoe cannot be said to
have brought much luck otherwise. The Van Vorsts who lived there, a
junior branch of the old colonial house, did not prosper in worldly
matters, but sank more and more as time went on, in general respect
and consideration.
There was a break in the deterioration, and apparently a revival of
old glories, when Peter Van Vorst married his cousin, a brilliant
beauty from town, who had refused, as tradition asserts, half the
eligible men of her day, and accepted Peter for what seemed a sudden
and mysterious caprice. The marriage was a nine days' wonder; but
whatever the reasons that prompted her strange choice--whether love,
indifference, or some feeling more complicated and subtle; Elizabeth
Van Vorst made no effort to avert its consequences, but settled down
in silence to a life of monotonous poverty. She did not even try, as
less favored women have done under harder circumstances, to keep in
touch with the world she had given up. She never wrote to her old
friends, never recalled herself, by her presence in town, to her
former admirers. As for the Homestead, it wore, under the inert
indifference of her rule, the same neglected look which had prevailed
for years. The foliage grew in rank profusion about the house till it
shut out not only the sunlight, but all view of the river. Perhaps
Madam Van Vorst, as people called her, disliked the idea of change; or
perhaps she grudged the cost of a day's labor to cut the trees; or it
might be that she liked the gloom and the feeling of confinement, and
had no desire to feast her eyes on the river, after the fashion of the
Neighborhood. It reminded her too much, perhaps, of the outside world.
She was a stately, handsome old lady, and made an imposing appearance
when she came into church on Sunday, in the black silk gown which
rustled with an old-time dignity, and her puffs of snow-white hair
standing out against the rim of her widow's bonnet. Her daughters,
following timidly behind her, seemed to belong to a different sphere;
dull, faded women, in shabby gowns which the village girls would have
disdained. If you spoke to them after church, when the whole
Neighborhood exchanges greetings and discusses the news of the week,
they would answer you shyly, in embarrassed monosyllables. Still, in
some intangible way, you felt the innate breeding, which lurked behind
all the uncouthness of voice and manner.
Their life, under their mother's training, had been one long lesson in
self-effacement; they never even drove to the village without
consulting her, or bought a spool of cotton without her permission.
The stress of poverty, as time went on, grew less stringent at the
Homestead; but with Madam Van Vorst the penury which had been first
the result of necessity, had grown to be second nature. She let the
money accumulate and made no change in their manner of life. Her
daughters had no books, no teachers; no occupation but house-work; no
interest beyond the petty gossip of the country-side.
With Peter, the son, the downward process was more evident and had
taken deeper root. His voice was more uncouth than that of his sisters
and his manner less refined; it was hard to distinguish him if you saw
him in church, from any farmer, ill at ease in his Sunday clothes. He
spent his days at work on the farm, and his evenings, more often than
his mother dreamed of, at the bar in the village. Like his sisters, he
bowed beneath her iron rod and lived in mortal fear of her
displeasure. Yet he had his plans, well defined, and frequently
boasted (at least at the village bar) of what he should do when he
became his own master.
With the sisters a certain inborn delicacy of feeling prevented them
from formulating, even to themselves, those hopes and aspirations
which, nevertheless, lay dormant, needing only a sudden shock to call
them into life. When that shock came, and it was known all over the
Neighborhood that Madam Van Vorst was dead, the news brought a mild
sense of loss, the feeling of a landmark removed; and people hastened
at once to the Homestead with sincere condolences and offers of
assistance to the daughters. Cornelia and Joanna were stunned, but not
entirely with sorrow; rather with the sort of feeling that a prisoner
might experience, who finds himself by a sudden blow, released from a
chain which habit has rendered bearable, and almost second nature, yet
none the less a chain.
It was not till the evening after the funeral that this stifled
feeling found expression. The day had been fraught with a ghastly
excitement that seemed to give for the moment to these poor crushed
beings a fictitious importance. All the Neighborhood had come to the
funeral; some grand relations even had journeyed up from town to do
honor to the woman whom they had ignored in her lifetime; these last
lingered for a solemn meal at the Homestead. The whole affair seemed
to bring the Van Vorst women more in contact with the outside world
than any event since their father's death, many years before. Sitting
that evening, talking it all over, it might have been some festivity
that they were discussing, were it not for their crape-laden gowns,
and the tears they were still shedding half mechanically, though with
no conscious insincerity.
"It was kind of the Schuyler Van Vorsts to come up," said Cornelia,
wistfully. "I thought they had quite forgotten us--they are such fine
people, you know--but they were really very kind, quite as if they
took an interest."
"I'm glad the cake was so good," said the practical Joanna. "I took
special pains with it, for I thought some of them might stay."
"It went off very nicely," said Cornelia, tearfully, "very nicely
indeed. Mrs. Schuyler Van Vorst spoke of the cream being so good."
"She ate a good deal of it, I noticed."
"One thing I was sorry for," said Cornelia, reluctantly. "I saw her
looking at the furniture. You know poor Mamma never would have
anything done to it."
The sisters looked mechanically about the familiar room whose
deficiencies had never been so glaringly apparent. The Homestead
drawing-room had been re-furnished, with strict regard to | 2,188.752284 |
2023-11-16 18:53:32.7328780 | 1,032 | 13 |
Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]
* * * * *
VOL. II.--NO. 97. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, September 6, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SMALL PASSENGER WITH THE LARGE VALISE.]
[Begun in No. 92 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, August 2]
TIM AND TIP;
OR, THE ADVENTURES OF A BOY AND A DOG
BY JAMES OTIS.
CHAPTER VI.
TIM MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE.
When Tim left old Mose's kitchen it was nearly time for the steamer to
start on her regular trip, and the passengers were coming on board
quite fast. The bustle and excitement which always attend the sailing of
steamers, even though the trip be a short one, were all so new and
strange to Tim that he forgot his own troubles in watching the scene
around him. He saw Mr. Rankin near the kitchen, and was told by him that
he could remain on deck until the Captain should ring his bell, when he
would let him know of it.
Therefore Tim had an opportunity to take in all the details of the
interesting scene. The deck hands were scurrying to and fro, wheeling in
freight or baggage on funny little trucks with very small wheels and
very long handles; passengers were running around excitedly, as if they
thought they ought to attend to matters which did not concern them;
newsboys were crying the latest editions of the papers; old women were
trying to sell fruit that did not look very fresh, and everything
appeared to be in the greatest confusion.
While Tim was leaning on the after-rail of the main-deck, his attention
was attracted by a very small boy, who was trying to get himself and a
large valise on board at the same time. The valise was several sizes too
large for the boy, and some one of the four corners would persist in
hitting against his legs each time he stepped, and then, swinging
around, would almost throw him off his feet.
Twice the boy started to go on board, and each time the valise grew
unruly, frightening him from continuing the attempt lest he should be
thrown into the water. Then he stood still and gazed longingly at the
plank upon which he did not dare to venture.
It was a comical sight, and Tim laughed at it until he saw the boy was
really in distress, when he started to aid him.
"Let me help you carry your valise," he said to the small passenger, as
he darted across the narrow plank, and took hold of one side of the
offending baggage. "Two can lug it better'n one."
The boy looked up as if surprised that a stranger should offer to help
him, and then gave up one-half the burden to this welcome aid. This time
the journey was made successfully; and as the valise was deposited on
the steamer's deck, the little passenger gave a deep sigh of relief.
"So much done!" he said, in a satisfied way, as he took off his hat and
wiped his forehead with a handkerchief that did not look much larger
than a postage stamp. "Where are you goin'?" he then asked, turning to
Tim.
"Why, I ain't goin' anywhere," replied the Captain's boy, not fully
understanding the other's question.
"Oh!"--and the boy's face grew troubled--"I thought maybe you was goin'
in the boat."
"So I am," answered Tim, now understanding the question. "I work here."
"Now that's nice;" and the little fellow sat down on his valise
contentedly.
"You may think so; but if you knew Captain Pratt, you'd talk different."
"Why?"
"Perhaps you'll find out if you come on this boat much; but I guess I'd
better not tell you."
The boy was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to understand what
Tim meant, and then he said, abruptly: "Look here, I live down on
Minchen's Island, an' I come up here to see my aunt. I'm goin' home on
this boat, an' I want you to show me where I can get a ticket. If you
will, I'll show you lots of things I've got in this valise."
"I don't know where it is myself, 'cause I ain't been on the boat only
two days; but if | 2,188.752918 |
2023-11-16 18:53:32.8296410 | 318 | 12 | ***The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Diary of Samuel Pepys***
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2023-11-16 18:53:32.9352070 | 879 | 13 |
Produced by Donald Lainson
A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA
By Bret Harte
CHAPTER I.
"It blows," said Joe Wingate.
As if to accent the words of the speaker a heavy gust of wind at that
moment shook the long light wooden structure which served as the general
store of Sidon settlement, in Contra Costa. Even after it had passed a
prolonged whistle came through the keyhole, sides, and openings of the
closed glass front doors, that served equally for windows, and filled
the canvas ceiling which hid the roof above like a bellying sail. A wave
of enthusiastic emotion seemed to be communicated to a line of straw
hats and sou-westers suspended from a cross-beam, and swung them with
every appearance of festive rejoicing, while a few dusters, overcoats,
and "hickory" shirts hanging on the side walls exhibited such marked
though idiotic animation that it had the effect of a satirical comment
on the lazy, purposeless figures of the four living inmates of the
store.
Ned Billings momentarily raised his head and shoulders depressed in the
back of his wooden armchair, glanced wearily around, said, "You bet,
it's no slouch of a storm," and then lapsed again with further extended
legs and an added sense of comfort.
Here the third figure, which had been leaning listlessly against the
shelves, putting aside the arm of a swaying overcoat that seemed to
be emptily embracing him, walked slowly from behind the counter to the
door, examined its fastenings, and gazed at the prospect. He was the
owner of the store, and the view was a familiar one,--a long stretch of
treeless waste before him meeting an equal stretch of dreary sky above,
and night hovering somewhere between the two. This was indicated by
splashes of darker shadow as if washed in with india ink, and a lighter
low-lying streak that might have been the horizon, but was not. To
the right, on a line with the front door of the store, were several
scattered, widely dispersed objects, that, although vague in outline,
were rigid enough in angles to suggest sheds or barns, but certainly not
trees.
"There's a heap more wet to come afore the wind goes down," he said,
glancing at the sky. "Hark to that, now!"
They listened lazily. There was a faint murmur from the shingles above;
then suddenly the whole window was filmed and blurred as if the
entire prospect had been wiped out with a damp sponge. The man turned
listlessly away.
"That's the kind that soaks in; thar won't be much teamin' over Tasajara
for the next two weeks, I reckon," said the fourth lounger, who,
seated on a high barrel, was nibbling--albeit critically and
fastidiously--biscuits and dried apples alternately from open boxes on
the counter. "It's lucky you've got in your winter stock, Harkutt."
The shrewd eyes of Mr. Harkutt, proprietor, glanced at the occupation of
the speaker as if even his foresight might have its possible drawbacks,
but he said nothing.
"There'll be no show for Sidon until you've got a wagon road from here
to the creek," said Billings languidly, from the depths of his chair.
"But what's the use o' talkin'? Thar ain't energy enough in all Tasajara
to build it. A God-forsaken place, that two months of the year can only
be reached by a mail-rider once a week, don't look ez if it was goin' to
break its back haulin' in goods and settlers. I tell ye what, gentlemen,
it makes me sick!" And apparently it had enfeebled him to the extent of
interfering with his aim in that expectoration of disgust against the
stove with which he concluded his sentence.
"Why don't YOU build it?" asked Wingate, carelessly.
"I wouldn't on principle," said Billings. "It | 2,188.955247 |
2023-11-16 18:53:33.2257220 | 1,037 | 8 |
Produced by Col Choat. HTML version by Al Haines.
DOT AND THE KANGAROO
by
Ethel C. Pedley
To the
children of Australia
in the hope of enlisting their sympathies
for the many
beautiful, amiable, and frolicsome creatures
of their fair land,
whose extinction, through ruthless destruction,
is being surely accomplished
CHAPTER I.
Little Dot had lost her way in the bush. She knew it, and was very
frightened. She was too frightened in fact to cry, but stood in the
middle of a little dry, bare space, looking around her at the scraggy
growths of prickly shrubs that had torn her little dress to rags,
scratched her bare legs and feet till they bled, and pricked her hands
and arms as she had pushed madly through the bushes, for hours, seeking
her home. Sometimes she looked up to the sky. But little of it could
be seen because of the great tall trees that seemed to her to be trying
to reach heaven with their far-off crooked branches. She could see
little patches of blue sky between the tangled tufts of her way in the
and was very drooping leaves, and, as the dazzling sunlight had faded,
she began to think it was getting late, and that very soon it would be
night.
The thought of being lost and alone in the wild bush at night, took her
breath away with fear, and made her tired little legs tremble under
her. She gave up all hope of finding her home, and sat down at the foot
of the biggest blackbutt tree, with her face buried in her hands and
knees, and thought of all that had happened, and what might happen yet.
It seemed such a long, long time since her mother had told her that she
might gather some bush flowers while she cooked the dinner, and Dot
recollected how she was bid not to go out of sight of the cottage. How
she wished now she had remembered this sooner! But whilst she was
picking the pretty flowers, a hare suddenly started at her feet and
sprang away into the bush, and she had run after it. When she found
that she could not catch the hare, she discovered that she could no
longer see the cottage. After wandering for a while she got frightened
and ran, and ran, little knowing that she was going further away from
her home at every step.
Where she was sitting under the blackbutt tree, she was miles away from
her father's selection, and it would be very difficult for anyone to
find her. She felt that she was a long way off, and she began to think
of what was happening at home. She remembered how, not very long ago,
a neighbour's little boy had been lost, and how his mother had come to
their cottage for help to find him, and that her father had ridden off
on the big bay horse to bring men from all the selections around to
help in the search. She remembered their coming back in the darkness;
numbers of strange men she had never seen before. Old men, young men,
and boys, all on their rough-coated horses, and how they came indoors,
and what a noise they made all talking together in their big deep
voices. They looked terrible men, so tall and brown and fierce, with
their rough bristly beards; and they all spoke in such funny tones to
her, as if they were trying to make their voices small.
During many days, these men came and went, and every time they were
more sad, and less noisy. The little boy's mother used to come and
stay, crying, whilst the men were searching the bush for her little
son. Then, one evening, Dot's father came home alone, and both her
mother and the little boy's mother went away in a great hurry. Then,
very late, her mother came back crying, and her father sat smoking by
the fire looking very sad, and she never saw that little boy again,
although he had been found.
She wondered now if all these rough, big men were riding into the bush
to find her, and if, after many days, they would find her, and no one
ever see her again. She seemed to see her mother crying, and her
father very sad, and all the men very solemn. These thoughts made her
so miserable that she began to cry herself.
Dot does not know how long she was sobbing in loneliness and fear, with
her head on her knees, and with her little hands covering her eyes so
as not to see the cruel wild bush in which she was lost. It seemed a
long time before she summoned up courage to uncover her weeping eyes,
and look once | 2,189.245762 |
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Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
PROOF OF AUTHENTICITY.
This is to certify that I, the undersigned, am personally acquainted
with Samuel S. Hildebrand (better known as “Sam Hildebrand, the
Missouri Bushwhacker,” etc.,) and have known him from boyhood; that
during the war, and on several occasions since its termination, he
promised to give me a full and complete history of his whole war
record; that on the night of January 28th, 1870, he came to my house
at Big River Mills, in St. Francois county, Missouri, in company with
Charles Burks, and gave his consent that I and Charles Burks, in
conjunction, might have his confession whenever we were prepared to
meet him at a certain place for that purpose; that in the latter part
of March, 1870, in the presence of Sam Hildebrand alone, I did write
out his confession as he gave it to me, then and there, until the same
was completed; and that afterwards James W. Evans and myself, from the
material I thus obtained, compiled and completed the said confession,
which is now presented to the public as his Autobiography.
A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D.
* * * * *
STATE OF MISSOURI, }
COUNTY OF STE. GENEVIEVE. }
On this, 14th day of June, 1870, before me, Henry Herter, a Notary
Public within and for said county, personally appeared W. H. Couzens,
J. N. Burks and G. W. Murphy of the above county and State, and on
being duly sworn they stated that they were well acquainted with
Charles Burks of the aforesaid county, and A. Wendell Keith, M. D., of
St. Francois county, Missouri, and to their certain knowledge the facts
set forth in the foregoing certificate are true and correct, and that
Samuel S. Hildebrand also acknowledged to them afterwards that he had
made to them his complete confession.
WM. H. COUZENS, MAJOR C. S. A.,
J. N. BURKS,
G. W. MURPHY.
Subscribed and sworn to before me, this 14th day of June, 1870.
HENRY HERTER,
_Notary Public_.
* * * * *
The Statement made by A. Wendell Keith, M. D., is entitled to credit
from the fact of his well-known veracity and standing in society.
HON. ELLIS G. EVANS,
Senator, Rolla District.
HON. E. C. SEBASTIAN,
Representative, St. Francois county.
HON. MILTON P. CAYCE,
Farmington, Missouri.
FRANKLIN MURPHY,
Sheriff St. Francois county.
WILLIAM R. TAYLOR,
Clerk St. Francois county.
HON. JOSEPH BOGY,
Representative Ste. Genevieve county.
CHARLES ROZIER,
Clerk Ste. Genevieve county.
* * * * *
EXECUTIVE OFFICE, JEFFERSON CITY, MO.,}
June 22, 1870. }
I hereby certify that the persons whose official signatures appear
above have been commissioned for the offices indicated; and my personal
acquaintance with Dr. Keith, Honorables Evans, Sebastian, Cayce,
Bogy and Sheriff Murphy is such that I say without hesitation their
statements are entitled to full faith and credit.
J. W. McCLURG,
_Governor of Missouri_.
[Illustration: HILDEBRAND DRIVEN FROM HOME.]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
SAMUEL S. HILDEBRAND,
THE RENOWNED
MISSOURI “BUSHWHACKER”
AND UNCONQUERABLE
ROB ROY OF AMERICA;
BEING
HIS COMPLETE CONFESSION
RECENTLY MADE TO THE WRITERS, AND CAREFULLY COMPILED
BY JAMES W. EVANS AND A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D.,
OF ST. FRANCOIS COUNTY, MO.;
TOGETHER
WITH ALL THE FACTS CONNECTED WITH HIS
EARLY HISTORY.
JEFFERSON CITY, MO.:
STATE TIMES BOOK AND JOB PRINTING HOUSE,
MADISON STREET.
1870.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
SAM HILDEBRAND DRIVEN FROM HOME _Frontispiece._
FRANK HILDEBRAND HUNG BY THE MOB 45
SAM HILDEBRAND KILLING MCILVAINE 61
THE MURDER OF WASH. HILDEBRAND AND LANDUSKY 69
STAMPEDE OF FEDERAL SOLDIERS 139
SAM HILDEBRAND BETRAYED BY COOTS 179
SAM HILDEBRAND‘S LAST BATTLE 297
COL. BOWEN CAPTURES HILDEBRAND‘S CAVE 303
Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1870, by JAMES W.
EVANS and A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D., in the Clerk‘s Office
of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of
Missouri.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Introduction.—Yankee fiction.—Reasons for making a full
confession. 25
CHAPTER II.
Early history of the Hildebrand family.—Their settlement in
St. Francois county, Mo.—Sam Hildebrand born.—Troublesome
neighbors.—Union sentiments. 29
CHAPTER III.
Determination to take no part in the war.—Mr. Ringer killed
by Rebels.—The cunning device of Allen Roan.—Vigilance
Committee organized.—The baseness of Mobocracy.—Attacked by the
mob.—Escape to Flat Woods. 35
CHAPTER IV.
McIlvaine‘s Vigilance mob.—Treachery of Castleman.—Frank
Hildebrand hung by the mob.—Organization of the mob into a
Militia company. 42
CHAPTER V.
His house at Flat Woods attacked by eighty soldiers.—Miraculous
escape.—Capt. Bolin.—Flight to Green county, Arkansas. 48
CHAPTER VI.
Interview with Gen. Jeff Thompson.—Receives a Major‘s
Commission.—Interview with Capt. Bolin.—Joins the Bushwhacking
Department. 54
CHAPTER VII.
First trip to Missouri.—Killed George Cornecious for reporting
him.—Killed Firman McIlvaine, captain of the mob.—Attempt to
kill McGahan and House.—Return to Arkansas. 58
CHAPTER VIII.
Vigilance mob drives his mother from home.—Three companies of
troops sent to Big river.—Capt. Flanche murders Washington
Hildebrand and Landusky.—Capt. Esroger murders John Roan.—Capt.
Adolph burns the Hildebrand homestead and murders Henry
Hildebrand. 66
CHAPTER IX.
Trip with Burlap and Cato.—Killed a spy near Bloomfield.—Visits
his mother on Dry Creek.—Interview with his uncle.—Sees the
burning of the homestead at a distance. 75
CHAPTER X.
Trip with two men.—Killed Stokes for informing on him.—Secreted
in a cave on Big river.—Vows of vengeance.—Watched for
McGahan.—Tom Haile pleads for Franklin Murphy.—Tongue-lashed
and whipped out by a woman. 84
CHAPTER XI.
Trip to Missouri with three men.—Fight near
Fredericktown.—Killed four soldiers.—Went to their camp and
stole four horses.—Flight toward the South.—Robbed “Old
Crusty”. 91
CHAPTER XII.
Trip with three men.—Captured a spy and shot him.—Shot Mr.
Scaggs.—Charged a Federal camp at night and killed nine
men.—Came near shooting James Craig.—Robbed Bean‘s store and
returned to Arkansas. 96
CHAPTER XIII.
The Militia mob robs the Hildebrand estate.—Trip to Missouri
with ten men.—Attacks a government train with an escort of
twenty men.—Killed two and put the others to flight. 102
CHAPTER XIV.
Federal cruelty.—A defense of Bushwhacking.—Trip with Capt.
Bolin and nine men.—Fight at West Prairie.—Started with two
men to St. Francois county.—Killed a Federal soldier.—Killed
Addison Cunningham.—Capt. Walker kills Capt. Barnes, and
Hildebrand kills Capt. Walker. 106
CHAPTER XV.
Started alone to Missouri.—Rode off a bluff and killed
his horse.—Fell in with twenty-five Rebels under Lieut.
Childs.—Went with them.—Attacked 150 Federals at Bollinger‘s
Mill.— Henry Resinger killed.—William Cato.—Went back to
Fredericktown.—Killed one man.—Robbed Abright‘s store. 114
CHAPTER XVI.
Started to Bloomfield with three men.—Fight at St. Francis
river.—Goes from there alone.—Meets his wife and family, who
had been ordered off from Bloomfield.—Capture and release of
Mrs. Hildebrand.—Fight in Stoddard county.—Arrival in Arkansas.
121
CHAPTER XVII.
Put in a crop.—Took another trip to Missouri with six
men.—Surrounded in a tobacco barn.—Killed two men in making
his escape.—Killed Wammack for informing on him.—Captured some
Federals and released them on certain conditions.—Went to Big
River Mills.—Robbed Highley‘s and Bean‘s stores. 128
CHAPTER XVIII.
Selected seven men and went to <DW64> Wool Swamp.—Attacked
fifteen Federals—A running fight.—Killed three men.—Killed
Mr. Crane.—Betrayed by a Dutchman, and surrounded in a house
by Federals.—Escaped, killed eight Federals, recaptured the
horses, and hung the Dutchman. 136
CHAPTER XIX.
Went with eight men.—Attacked a Federal camp near Bollinger‘s
Mill.—Got defeated.—Men returned to Arkansas.—Went alone to St.
Francois county.—Watched for R. M. Cole.—Killed Capt. Hicks. 147
CHAPTER XX.
Trip to Hamburg with fifteen men.—Hung a Dutchman and shot
another.—Attacked some Federals in Hamburg but got gloriously
whipped.—Retreated to <DW53> Island.—Killed Oller at Flat
Woods.—Robbed Bean‘s store at Irondale. 153
CHAPTER XXI.
Started with six men on a trip to Springfield,
Missouri.—Deceived by a Federal spy in the Irish
Wilderness—Captured through mistake by Rebels.—Routed on
Panther creek.—Returned home on foot. 159
CHAPTER XXII.
Started with four men.—Surrounded in a thicket
near Fredericktown.—Escaped with the loss of three
horses.—Stole horses from the Federals at night.—Killed two
soldiers.—Suffered from hunger.—Killed Fowler.—Took a horse
from G. W. Murphy.—Went to Mingo Swamp.—Killed Coots for
betraying him.—Killed a Federal and lost two men. 168
CHAPTER XXIII.
Went to Mingo Swamp with ten men.—Went to Castor
creek.—Attacked two companies of Federals under Capt. Cawhorn
and Capt. Rhoder.—Bushwhacked them seven nights.—Went with
Capt. Reed‘s men.—Attacked Capt. Leeper‘s company.—Killed
fourteen, captured forty horses, forty-four guns, sixty
pistols, and everything else they had. 182
CHAPTER XXIV.
Took a trip with fifteen men.—Captured a squad of
Federals.—Reception of “Uncle Bill.”—Hung all the
prisoners.—Captured five more and hung one. 187
CHAPTER XXV.
Put in a crop.—Started to Missouri with nine men.—Killed a
soldier near Dallas.—Went to St. Francois county and watched
for Walls and Baker.—Watched near Big River Mills for
McGahan.—Narrow escape of William Sharp.—Robbed Burges, Hughes
and Kelley of their horses.—Robbed Abright‘s store.—Captured
some Federals on White Water. 195
CHAPTER XXVI.
Started to St. Francois county, Missouri, with eight
men.—Hung Vogus and Zimmer.—Hung George Hart.—Robbed Lepp‘s
store.—Concealed in Pike Run hills.—Started back.—Hung Mr.
Mett‘s <DW64>, “Old Isaac.”—Hung another <DW64>.—Took two
deserters back and hung them. 205
CHAPTER XXVII.
Started with nine men to St. Francois county.—Stopped in Pike
Run hills.—Robbed the store of Christopher Lepp.—Hung Mr.
Kinder‘s <DW64>.—Attacked by Federals.—Killed two men and lost
one.—Shot two soldiers on a furlough.—Enters a mysterious camp.
212
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Capt. John and a company of Federals destroy the Bushwhackers‘
Headquarters in Green county, Arkansas.—He is bushwhacked,
routed and killed.—Raid into Washington county with fourteen
men.—Attacked by twenty Federals.—Killed the man who piloted
Capt. John. 219
CHAPTER XXIX.
Took a raid into Missouri with four men.—Killed a
Federal.—Killed two of Capt. Milks‘ men.—Started to De
Soto.—Routed by the Federals.—Adventure with a German.—Killed
three Federals on Black river. 228
CHAPTER XXX.
Commanded the advance guard on Price‘s raid.—The Federals burn
Doniphan.—Routed the Federals completely.—Captured several
at Patterson.—Killed Abright at Farmington.—Left Price‘s
army.—Killed four Federals.—Major Montgomery storms Big River
Mills.—Narrow escape from capture. 237
CHAPTER XXXI.
Selected three men and went to Missouri to avenge the death of
Rev. William Polk.—Got ammunition in Fredericktown.—Killed the
German who informed on Polk.—Return to Arkansas. 244
CHAPTER XXXII.
Started with eight men on a trip to Arkansas river.—Hung a
“Scallawag” on White river.—Went into Conway county.—Treachery
of a <DW64> on Point Remove.—“Foot-burning” atrocities.—Started
back and hung a renegade. 250
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Gloomy prospects for the South.—Takes a trip to Missouri with
four men.—Saved from capture by a woman.—Visits his mother
on Big river.—Robs the store of J. V. Tyler at Big River
Mills—Escapes to Arkansas. 257
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Started to Missouri with three men.—Surrounded at night near
Fredericktown.—Narrow escape by a cunning device.—Retired to
Simms‘ Mountain.—Swapped horses with Robert Hill, and captured
some more.—Killed Free Jim and kidnapped a <DW64> boy. 264
CHAPTER XXXV.
Trip to Missouri with four men.—Attempt to rob Taylor‘s
store.—Fight with Lieut. Brown and his soldiers.—Killed
Miller and Johnson at Flat Woods.—Return home from his last
raid.—The war is pronounced to be at an end.—Reflections on the
termination of the war.—Mrs. Hildebrand‘s advice.—The parole at
Jacksonport. 275
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Imprisoned in Jacksonport jail.—Mrs. Hildebrand returns
to Missouri.—Escape from prison.—Final settlement in Ste.
Genevieve county.—St. Louis detectives make their first
trip.—The Governor‘s reward.—Wounded by Peterson.—Removed
to his uncle‘s.—Fight at John Williams‘.—Kills James
McLaine.—Hides in a cave. 286
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Military operations for his capture.—Col. Bowen captures the
Cave.—Progress of the campaign.—Advent of Governor McClurg.—The
Militia called out.—Don Quixote affair at the Brick Church.—The
campaign ended.—Mrs. Hildebrand escapes to Illinois.—“Sam”
leaves Missouri.—His final proclamation. 300
PREFACE.
The public having been grossly imposed upon by several spurious
productions purporting to be the “Life of Sam Hildebrand,” we have no
apology to offer for presenting the reader with his authentic narrative.
His confession was faithfully written down from his own lips, as the
foregoing certificates abundantly prove.
From this copious manuscript we have prepared his autobiography for
the press, with a scrupulous care to give it literally, so far as
the arbitrary rules of language would permit. Sam Hildebrand and the
authors of this work were raised up from boyhood together, in the same
neighborhood, and we are confident that no material facts have been
suppressed by Hildebrand in his confession.
The whole narrative is given to the reader without any effort upon our
part either to justify or condemn his acts. Our design was to give the
genuine autobiography of Sam Hildebrand; this we have done.
The book, as a record of bloody deeds, dare-devil exploits and
thrilling adventures, will have no rival in the catalogue of wonders;
for it at once unfolds, with minute accuracy, the exploits of
Hildebrand, of which one-half had never yet been told. Without this
record the world would forever remain in ignorance of the _night
history_ of his astounding audacity.
We here tender our thanks to those of our friends who have kindly
assisted us in this work, prominent among whom is Miss Hilda F. Sharp,
of Jefferson City, Mo., who furnished us with those beautiful pencil
sketches from which our engravings were made.
JAMES W. EVANS,
A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D.
BIG RIVER MILLS, MO., June, 1870.
INTRODUCTION.
THE ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF THE HILDEBRAND FAMILY.
Before proceeding with the Autobiography of Samuel S. Hildebrand,
we would call the attention of the reader to the fact, that since
notoriety has been thrust upon the subject of these memoirs, public
attention has been pointed to the fact, that in German history, the
Hildebrands occupy a very prominent position.
The authors of this work, by a diligent research into ancient German
literature, have been able to trace the origin and history of the
Hildebrand family, with tolerable accuracy, to the beginning of the
ninth century. The name Hildebrand or Hildebrandt is as old as the
German language. Hilde, in ancient German, signified a “Hero,” and
brand, a “blaze or flame.” It is thought by some writers that the name
doubtless signified a “flaming hero.”
Whether this is the case or not, it matters but little, as the fact
remains clearly defined that the first man of that name known to
history was a hero in every sense of the word. The “Heldenbuch” or Book
of Heroes, in its original form, dates back to the eighth century. It
is a beautiful collection of poems relative to Dietrich or Theodoric.
It was written down from memory by the Hessian monks on the outer pages
of an old Latin manuscript, and was first published by Eccard in prose,
but it was afterwards discovered that the songs were originally in
rhyme.
The poem treats of the expulsion of Dietrich of Vaum out of his
dominions by Ermenrick, his escape to Attila and his return after
an adventurous exile of thirty years. Hildebrand (the old Dietrich)
encounters his son, whom he left at home in his flight, in a terrible
encounter without knowing who he was. We will present the reader with
Das Hildebrands lied (The song of Hildebrand), not on account of any
literary merit it may possess, but because of its great antiquity and
its popularity among the German people at one time, and by whom it was
dramatized.
The Song of Hildebrand.
“I must be up and riding,” spoke Master Hildebrand,
“’Tis long since I have greeted the distant Berner land;
For many a pleasant summer in foreign lands we‘ve been,
But thirty years have vanished since I my wife have seen.”
“Wilt thou be up and riding?” outspoke Duke Amelung;
“Beware! since _one_ should meet thee—a rider brave and young.
Right by the Berner market—the brave Sir Alebrand;
If twelve men‘s strength were in thee, he‘d throw thee to the sand!”
“And doth he scorn the country in such a haughty mood?
I‘ll cleave in twain his buckler—‘twill do him little good;
I‘ll cleave in twain his armor with a resistless blow,
Which for a long year after shall cause his mother woe.”
Outspoke of Bern, Sir Dietrich, “now let that counsel be,
And slay him not, old hero, but take advice from me:
Speak gently to the Ritter, a kind word soonest mends;
And let your path be peaceful, so shall ye both be friends!”
And as he reached the garden, right by the mart of Berne;
There came against him riding, a warrior fierce and stern.
A brave young knight in armor, against Sir Hildebrand;
“What seekest thou, old Ritter, in this, thy father‘s land?”
“Thou bearest splendid armor, like one of royal kind;
So bright thy glit‘ering corselet, mine eyes are stricken blind;
Thou, who at home should‘st rest thee, and shun a warrior‘s stroke,
And slumber by the fireside,” the old man laughed and spoke.
“Should _I_ at firesides rest me, and nurse me well at home,
Full many a fight awaits me, to many a field I‘ll come.
In many a rattling foray, shall I be known and feared;
Believe my word, thou youngster, ’twas thus I blanched my beard.”
“That beard will I tear from thee, though great may be thy pain.
Until the blood-drops trickling, have sprinkled all the plain;
Thy fair green shield and armor, must thou resign to me,
Than seek the town, contented my prisoner to be.
“My armor and my fair green shield have warded many a blow;
I trust that God in Heaven still will guard me from my foe.”
No more they spoke together, but grasped their weapons keen,
And what the two most longed for, soon came to pass, I ween!
With glittering sword, the younger struck such a sudden blow,
That with its force the warrior, Sir Hildebrand, bent low;
The youth in haste recoiling, sprang twelve good steps behind,
“Such leaps,” exclaimed the gray-beard, “were learned of womankind.”
“Had I learned ought of woman, it were to me a shame,
Within my father‘s castle are many knights of fame;
Full many knights and riders about my father throng,
And what as yet, I know not, I trust to learn ere long.”
Sir Hildebrand was cunning, the old gray bearded man,
For when the youth uplifted, beneath his sword he ran;
Around the Ritter‘s girdle his arms he tightly bound,
And on the ground he cast him—there lies he on the ground!
“Who rubs against the kittles, may spotless keep who can—
How fares it now, young hero, against the _old gray man_?
Now quickly speak and shrive thee, for I thy priest will be;
Say, art thou a young Wolfing? perhaps I‘ll let thee free.”
“Like wolves are all the Wolfing, they ran wild in the wood,
But I‘m a Grecian warrior, a rider brave and good;
Frau Ute is my mother, she dwelleth near this spot,
And _Hildebrand_, my father, albeit he knows us not!”
“Is Ute then thy mother, that monarch‘s daughter free?
Seekest thou thy father, Hildebrand? then know that _I_ am he!”
Uplifted he his golden helm, and kissed him on the mouth;
Now God be praised that both are safe! the old man and the youth.
“Oh, father dear, those bloody wounds!” ’twas thus the young knight said:
“Now would I three times rather bear those blows upon my head.”
“Be still, be still, my own dear son! the wounds will soon be past;
And God in Heaven above be praised, that we have met at last!”
This lasted from the noonday well to the vesper tide,
Then back into the city Sir Alebrand did ride.
What bears he on his helmet? a little cross of gold;
Who is he that rides beside him? his own dear father old.
And with him to his castle, old Hildebrand he bore,
And with his own hands served him—the mother grieved full sore—
“Ah, son, my ever dearest son, the cause I fain would know,
Why a strange prisoner, like this, should e‘er be honored so?”
“Now, silence, dearest mother, and list to what I say!
He almost slew me on the heath in open light to-day;
He ne‘er shall wear, good mother, a prisoner‘s attire,
‘Tis Hildebrand, the valient, thy husband and my sire!
Oh, mother, dearest mother, do him all honor now;”
Then flew she to her husband, and served him well, I trow;
What holds the brave old father? a glittering ring of gold;
He drops it in the wine cup—it is her husband old!
We congratulate our readers on having survived the reading of the above
poem, written a thousand years ago, about old Dietrich, the “father
Abraham” of all the Hildebrands; but he must not forget that he is
subject to a relapse, for here are two verses not taken from the “Book
of Heroes,” but from an old popular song in use to this day among the
peasantry in South Germany:
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand.
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand—Alebrand,
Rode off together with sword in hand—sword in hand—
To make fierce war on Venice;
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand—Alebrand,
Never could find the Venetian land—‘netian land.
With flaming swords to menace!
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand—Alebrand,
Got drunk as pigs with a jolly band—jolly band,
All the while swearing and bawling;
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand—Alebrand,
Drank till they could neither walk nor stand—walk nor stand,
Home on all fours they went a crawling.
The reader will perceive that the peasantry are disposed to “poke fun”
at the great ancestor of the Hildebrand family; this, however, we will | 2,189.445749 |
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Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE LADY OF THE FOREST.
A STORY FOR GIRLS.
By L. T. MEADE
Author of "The Little Princess of Tower Hill,"
"A Sweet Girl Graduate," "The Palace Beautiful,"
"Polly," "A World of Girls," etc., etc.
"Tyde what may betyde,
Lovel shall dwell at Avonsyde."
| 2,189.447313 |
2023-11-16 18:53:33.4273390 | 987 | 7 |
Produced by Bryan Ness, Iris Schimandle, Brownfox 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.)
Transcriber's Note: ae character replaced with ae. Accents have been
removed. The degree symbol has been replaced with ^o. The times symbol
has been replaced with lowercase x. The symbol mu/micro has been
replaced with lowercase u.
[Illustration: Some early medical entomology. Athanasius Kircher's
illustration of the Italian tarantula and the music prescribed as an
antidote for the poison of its bite. (1643).]
HANDBOOK OF MEDICAL
ENTOMOLOGY
WM. A. RILEY, PH.D.
Professor of Insect Morphology and Parasitology, Cornell University
and
O. A. JOHANNSEN, PH.D.
Professor of Biology, Cornell University
[Illustration]
ITHACA, NEW YORK
THE COMSTOCK PUBLISHING COMPANY
1915
COPYRIGHT, 1915
BY THE COMSTOCK PUBLISHING COMPANY,
ITHACA, N. Y.
Press of W. F. Humphrey
Geneva, N. Y.
PREFACE
The Handbook of Medical Entomology is the outgrowth of a course of
lectures along the lines of insect transmission and dissemination of
diseases of man given by the senior author in the Department of
Entomology of Cornell University during the past six years. More
specifically it is an illustrated revision and elaboration of his "Notes
on the Relation of Insects to Disease" published January, 1912.
Its object is to afford a general survey of the field, and primarily to
put the student of medicine and entomology in touch with the discoveries
and theories which underlie some of the most important modern work in
preventive medicine. At the same time the older phases of the
subject--the consideration of poisonous and parasitic forms--have not
been ignored.
Considering the rapid shifts in viewpoint, and the development of the
subject within recent years, the authors do not indulge in any hopes
that the present text will exactly meet the needs of every one
specializing in the field,--still less do they regard it as complete or
final. The fact that the enormous literature of isolated articles is to
be found principally in foreign periodicals and is therefore difficult
of access to many American workers, has led the authors to hope that a
summary of the important advances, in the form of a reference book may
not prove unwelcome to physicians, sanitarians and working
entomologists, and to teachers as a text supplementing lecture work in
the subject.
Lengthy as is the bibliography, it covers but a very small fraction of
the important contributions to the subject. It will serve only to put
those interested in touch with original sources and to open up the
field. Of the more general works, special acknowledgment should be made
to those of Banks, Brumpt, Castellani and Chalmers, Comstock, Hewitt,
Howard, Manson, Mense, Neveau-Lemaire, Nuttall, and Stiles.
To the many who have aided the authors in the years past, by suggestions
and by sending specimens and other materials, sincerest thanks is
tendered. This is especially due to their colleagues in the Department
of Entomology of Cornell University, and to Professor Charles W. Howard,
Dr. John Uri Lloyd, Mr. A. H. Ritchie, Dr. I. M. Unger, and Dr. Luzerne
Coville.
They wish to express indebtedness to the authors and publishers who have
so willingly given permission to use certain illustrations. Especially
is this acknowledgment due to Professor John Henry Comstock, Dr. L. O.
Howard, Dr. Graham-Smith, and Professor G. H. T. Nuttall. Professor
Comstock not only authorized the use of departmental negatives by the
late Professor M. V. Slingerland (credited as M. V. S.), but generously
put at their disposal the illustrations from the MANUAL FOR THE STUDY OF
INSECTS and from the SPIDER BOOK. Figures 5 and 111 are from Peter's
"Der Arzt und die Heilkunst in der deutschen Vergangenheit." It should
be noted that on examining the original, it is found that Gottfried's
figure relates to an event antedating the typical epidemic of dancing
mania.
WM. A. RILEY.
O. A. JOHANNSEN | 2,189.447379 |
2023-11-16 18:53:33.4273850 | 1,719 | 8 |
Produced by Geoff Palmer
A MINSTREL IN FRANCE
BY
HARRY LAUDER
[ILLUSTRATION: _frontispiece_ Harry Lauder and his son, Captain John
Lauder. (see Lauder01.jpg)]
TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED SON
CAPTAIN JOHN LAUDER
First 8th, Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders
Killed in France, December 28, 1916
Oh, there's sometimes I am lonely
And I'm weary a' the day
To see the face and clasp the hand
Of him who is away.
The only one God gave me,
My one and only joy,
My life and love were centered on
My one and only boy.
I saw him in his infant days
Grow up from year to year,
That he would some day be a man
I never had a fear.
His mother watched his every step,
'Twas our united joy
To think that he might be one day
My one and only boy.
When war broke out he buckled on
His sword, and said, "Good-bye.
For I must do my duty, Dad;
Tell Mother not to cry,
Tell her that I'll come back again."
What happiness and joy!
But no, he died for Liberty,
My one and only boy.
The days are long, the nights are drear,
The anguish breaks my heart,
But oh! I'm proud my one and only
Laddie played his part.
For God knows best, His will be done,
His grace does me employ.
I do believe I'll meet again
My one and only boy.
by Harry Lauder
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Harry Lauder and His Son, Captain John Lauder
"I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I went out myself"
"'Carry On!' were the last words of my boy, Captain John Lauder, to
his men, but he would mean them for me, too"
"Bang! Went Sixpence"
"Harry Lauder preserves the bonnet of his son, brought to him from
where the lad fell, 'The memory of his boy, it is almost his
religion.'--A tatter of plaid of the Black Watch. on a wire of a
German entanglement barely suggests the hell the Scotch troops have
gone through"
"Captain John Lauder and Comrades Before the Trenches in France"
"Make us laugh again, Harry!' Though I remember my son and want to
join the ranks, I have obeyed"
"Harry Lauder, 'Laird of Dunoon.'"
--Medal struck off by Germany when _Lusitania_ was sunk"
CHAPTER I
Yon days! Yon palmy, peaceful days! I go back to them, and they are
as a dream. I go back to them again and again, and live them over.
Yon days of another age, the age of peace, when no man dared even to
dream of such times as have come upon us.
It was in November of 1913, and I was setting forth upon a great
journey, that was to take me to the other side of the world before I
came back again to my wee hoose amang the heather at Dunoon. My wife
was going with me, and my brother-in-law, Tom Valiance, for they go
everywhere with me. But my son John was coming with us only to
Glasgow, and then, when we set out for Liverpool and the steamer that
was to bring us to America he was to go back to Cambridge. He was
near done there, the bonnie laddie. He had taken his degree as
Bachelor of Arts, and was to set out soon upon a trip around the
world.
Was that no a fine plan I had made for my son? That great voyage he
was to have, to see the world and all its peoples! It was proud I was
that I could give it to him. He was--but it may be I'll tell you more
of John later in this book!
My pen runs awa' with me, and my tongue, too, when I think of my boy
John.
We came to the pier at Dunoon, and there she lay, the little ferry
steamer, the black smoke curling from her stack straight up to God.
Ah, the braw day it was! There was a frosty sheen upon the heather,
and the Clyde was calm as glass. The tops of the hills were coated
with snow, and they stood out against the horizon like great big
sugar loaves.
We were a' happy that day! There was a crowd to see us off. They had
come to bid me farewell and godspeed, all my friends and my
relations, and I went among them, shaking them by the hand and
thinking of the long whiles before I'd be seeing them again. And then
all my goodbys were said, and we went aboard, and my voyage had begun.
I looked back at the hills and the heather, and I thought of all I
was to do and see before I saw those hills again. I was going half
way round the world and back again. I was going to wonderful places
to see wonderful things and curious faces. But oftenest the thought
came to me, as I looked at my son, that him I would see again before
I saw the heather and the hills and all the friends and the relations
I was leaving behind me. For on his trip around the world he was to
meet us in Australia! It was easier to leave him, easier to set out,
knowing that, thinking of that!
Wonderful places I went to, surely. And wonderful things I saw and
heard. But the most wonderful thing of all that I was to see or hear
upon that voyage I did not dream of nor foresee. How was a mortal man
to foresee? How was he to dream of it?
Could I guess that the very next time I set out from Dunoon pier the
peaceful Clyde would be dotted with patrol boats, dashing hither and
thither! Could I guess that everywhere there would be boys in khaki,
and women weeping, and that my boy, John----! Ah, but I'll not tell
you of that now.
Peaceful the Clyde had been, and peaceful was the Mersey when we
sailed from Liverpool for New York. I look back on yon voyage--the
last I took that way in days of peace. Next time! Destroyers to guard
us from the Hun and his submarines, and to lay us a safe course
through the mines. And sailor boys, about their guns, watching,
sweeping the sea every minute for the flash of a sneaking pirate's
periscope showing for a second above a wave!
But then! It was a quiet trip, with none but the ups and doons of
every Atlantic crossing--more ups than doons, I'm telling you!
I was glad to be in America again, glad to see once more the friends
I'd made. They turned out to meet me and to greet me in New York, and
as I travelled across the continent to San Francisco it was the same.
Everywhere I had friends; everywhere they came crowding to shake me
by the hand with a "How are you the day, Harry?"
It was a long trip, but it was a happy one. How long ago it seems
now, as I write, in this new day of war! How far away are all the
common, kindly things that then I did not notice, and that now I
would give the world and a' to have back again!
Then, everywhere I went, they pressed their dainties upon me whenever
I sat down for a sup and a bite. The board groaned with plenty. I was
in a rich country, a country where there was enough for all, and to
spare. And now, as I am writing I am travelling again across America.
And there is not enough. When I | 2,189.447425 |
2023-11-16 18:53:33.6281720 | 6,198 | 7 |
Produced by Robert Connal, Linda Cantoni, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by the Bibliotheque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica)
[Transcriber's Note: This book was published in 1800 and contains some
inconsistent spelling, capitalization, hyphenation, and punctuation
typical of that era. These have been retained as they appear in the
original, including the inconsistent use of a period after the pound
symbol (e.g., L.100 and L100). Inconsistent italicizing of _l._, _s._,
and _d._ has been normalized to italics. Long-s has been normalized to
s. The pointing hand symbol has been rendered as [-->]. Printer errors
have been resolved with reference to a later and apparently corrected
printing of the same edition, available at the Internet Archive,
http://www.archive.org/details/atreatiseonpoli03colqgoog. Unresolved
printer errors have been noted with a [Transcriber's Note].]
A
TREATISE
ON THE
POLICE OF THE METROPOLIS;
CONTAINING A DETAIL OF THE
VARIOUS CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS
_By which Public and Private Property and Security are, at present,
injured and endangered:_
AND
SUGGESTING REMEDIES
FOR THEIR
PREVENTION.
THE SIXTH EDITION, CORRECTED AND CONSIDERABLY ENLARGED.
BY P. COLQUHOUN, LL.D.
_Acting as a Magistrate for the Counties of Middlesex, Surry, Kent,
and Essex.--For the City and Liberty of Westminster, and for the
Liberty of the Tower of London._
Meminerint legum conditores, illas ad proximum hunc finem
accommodare; Scelera videlicet arcenda, refraenandaque vitia
ac morum pravitatem.
Judices pariter leges illas cum vigore, aequitate,
integritate, publicaeque utilitatis amore curent exequi; ut
justitia etvirtus omnes societatis ordines pervadant.
Industriaque simul et Temperantia inertiae locum assumant et
prodigalitatis.
_LONDON:_
PRINTED BY H. BALDWIN AND SON, NEW BRIDGE-STREET, BLACKFRIARS;
FOR JOSEPH MAWMAN, IN THE POULTRY,
SUCCESSOR TO MR. DILLY.
M.DCCC.
TO THE SOVEREIGN,
_Who has graciously condescended to approve of the Author's
Efforts "To establish a System of Morality and good Order in
The Metropolis:"_
AND TO HIS PEOPLE;
_In every Part of the British Dominions; whose favourable
Reception of these Labours, for the Good of their Country,
has contributed, in a considerable degree, to the Progress
which has been already made, towards the Adoption of the
Remedies proposed for the Prevention of Crimes, the Comfort
of Society, and the Security of the Peaceful Subject:_
This Improved and Enlarged Edition of
THE TREATISE ON THE POLICE OF THE METROPOLIS,
_is humbly_
_and respectfully_
DEDICATED.
LONDON,
Jan. 1, 1800.
ADVERTISEMENT.
Occupied in a variety of laborious pursuits, which afford little time
either for study or recreation, the Author once more presents this
Work to the Public with an unfeigned Diffidence, arising from his
consciousness, that under such circumstances it must require their
indulgence. This, he trusts, will be granted when it is considered,
that his employments are of a nature unfriendly to that critical
accuracy and precision, the necessity of which is impressed on his
mind, not less by a sense of his own personal character, than of his
obligations to the long-experienced candour and liberality of his
readers.
In the present Edition much new matter has been brought forward, and
considerable improvements have been attempted by the introduction of
official facts, and authentic details calculated to elucidate and
explain the general system first placed by the Author under the review
of the Public. Their extensive approbation (although his only reward)
is of a nature which can never be too highly estimated. That
approbation has not only been confirmed by many of the first and most
respectable characters in these kingdoms, not less conspicuous for
talents and abilities than for that genuine patriotism which
distinguishes the good subject, and the valuable member of Society;
but also by several Foreigners eminent for learning and virtue.
While we deplore the miserable condition of those numerous delinquents
who have unfortunately multiplied with the same rapidity that the
great wealth of the Metropolis has increased: while their errors and
their crimes are exposed only for the purpose of amendment: while the
tear of pity is due to their forlorn state, a prospect happily opens
through the medium of _the Report of the_ SELECT COMMITTEE _of the_
HOUSE _of_ COMMONS, for the adoption of those remedies which will
unquestionably give a seasonable check to immorality and delinquency;
so as by their prevention not only to protect the rights of innocence,
but also increase the number of the useful members of the community,
and render punishments less frequent and necessary.
To witness the ultimate completion of legislative arrangements,
operating so favourably to the immediate advantage and security of the
Metropolis, and extending also similar benefits to the country at
large, will prove to the Author of this Work a very great and genuine
source of happiness.
To the Public, therefore, in general, and to the Legislature in
particular, does he look forward with confidence for that singular
gratification which, by giving effect to his well-meant endeavours for
the prevention of Crimes, will ultimately crown with success the
exertions he has used in the course of a very intricate and laborious
investigation, in which his only object has been the good of his
country.
LONDON,
_1st January_, 1800.
PREFACE.
Police in this Country may be considered as a _new Science_; the
properties of which consist not in the Judicial Powers which lead to
_Punishment_, and which belong to Magistrates alone; but in the
PREVENTION and DETECTION OF CRIMES, and in those other Functions which
relate to INTERNAL REGULATIONS for the well ordering and comfort of
Civil Society.
THE POLICE OF THE METROPOLIS, in every point of view, is a subject of
great importance to be known and understood; since every innocent and
useful Member of the Community has a particular interest in the
correct administration of whatever relates to the Morals of the
People, and to the protection of the Public against Fraud and
Depredation.
Under the present circumstances of insecurity, with respect to
property and even life itself, this is a subject which cannot fail to
force itself upon the attention of all:--All are equally concerned in
the Information which this Work conveys; the chief part of the
details in which are entirely novel, not to be found in books, and
never laid before the Public through the medium of the Press, previous
to the first Publication of this Treatise.
It may naturally be imagined, that such an accumulation of delinquency
systematically detailed, and placed in so prominent a point of view,
must excite a considerable degree of astonishment in the minds of
those Readers who have not been familiar with subjects of this nature;
and hence a desire may be excited to investigate how far the amazing
extent of the Depredations upon the Public here related, can be
reconciled to reason and possibility.
Four years have, however, elapsed, since these details have been
before the Public, and they still stand on their original ground,
without any attempt which has come to the Author's knowledge, to
question the magnitude or the extent of the evil.--On the contrary,
new sources of Fraud and Depredation have been brought forward,
tending greatly to increase the general mass of Delinquency.[1]
[Footnote 1: See Mr. Middleton's interesting Report on the County of
Middlesex, and the extracts from thence in Chapter III. of this
Work.]
In revising the present Edition, the Author felt a strong impulse to
reduce his estimates; but after an attentive review of the whole,
excepting in the instances of the Depredations on Commercial Property,
(which have been greatly diminished by the establishment of a _Marine
Police_, applicable to that particular object,) he was unable to
perceive any ground for materially altering his original
calculations.--If some classes of Theft, Robbery, and Depredation,
have been reduced, others have been augmented; still leaving the
aggregate nearly as before.
The causes of these extensive and accumulated wrongs being fully
explained, and accounted for, in various parts of the Work; a very
short recapitulation of them is, therefore, all that is necessary in
this Preface.
The enlarged state of Society, the vast extent of moving property, and
the unexampled wealth of the Metropolis, joined to the depraved habits
and loose conduct of a great proportion of the lower classes of the
people; and above all, the want of an appropriate Police applicable to
the object of prevention, will, after a careful perusal of this work,
reconcile the attentive mind to a belief of the actual existence of
evils which could not otherwise have been credited.--Let it be
remembered also, that this Metropolis is unquestionably not only the
greatest Manufacturing and Commercial City in the world, but also the
general receptacle for the idle and depraved of almost every country;
particularly from every quarter of the dominions of the Crown--Where
the temptations and resources for criminal pleasures--Gambling, Fraud
and Depredation almost exceed imagination; since besides being the
seat of Government it is the centre of _fashion, amusements,
dissipation and folly_.
Under such peculiar circumstances, while immorality, licentiousness
and crimes are known to advance in proportion to the excessive
accumulation of wealth, it cannot fail to be a matter of deep regret,
that in the progressive increase of the latter the means of checking
the rapid strides of the former have not been sooner discovered and
effectually applied.
It is, however, earnestly to be hoped that it is not yet too
late.--Patriots and Philanthropists who love their country, and glory
in its prosperity, will rejoice with the Author in the prospect, that
the great leading features of improvement suggested and matured in the
present Edition of this Work will ultimately receive the sanction of
the Legislature.
May the Author be allowed to express his conviction that the former
Editions of this book tended in no small degree, to remove various
misconceptions on the subject of Police: and at the same time
evidently excited in the public mind a desire to see such remedies
applied as should contribute to the improvement of the Morals of the
People, and to the removal of the danger and insecurity which were
universally felt to exist?
An impression it is to be hoped is generally felt from the example of
the Roman Government, when enveloped in riches and luxury, that
National prosperity must be of short duration when public Morals are
too long neglected, and no effectual measures adopted for the purpose
either of checking the alarming growth of depravity, or of guarding
the rising generation against evil examples.
It is by the general influence of good Laws, aided by the regulations
of an energetic Police, that the blessings of true Liberty, and the
undisturbed enjoyment of Property are secured.
The sole object of the Author in pointing out the accumulated wrongs
which have tended in so great a degree to abridge this Liberty, is to
pave the way for the adoption of those practical remedies which he
has suggested, in conformity with the spirit of the Laws, and the
Constitution of the Country, for the purpose of bettering the state of
Society, and improving the condition of human life.
If in the accomplishment of this object the Morals of the People shall
undergo a favourable change, and that species of comfort and security
be extended to the inhabitants of this great Metropolis, which has not
heretofore been experienced, while many evils are prevented, which in
their consequences threaten to be productive of the most serious
mischief, the Author of this Work will feel himself amply rewarded in
the benefits which the System he has proposed shall be found to confer
upon the Capital of the British Dominions, and on the Nation at
large.
_Preparing for the Press, by the Author of this Work._
A TREATISE
ON
_THE COMMERCE AND POLICE_
OF
THE RIVER THAMES:
CONTAINING
AN HISTORICAL VIEW OF
_THE TRADE OF THE PORT OF LONDON;_
THE DEPREDATIONS COMMITTED ON ALL PROPERTY IMPORTED AND EXPORTED
THERE; THE REMEDIES HITHERTO APPLIED; AND THE MEANS OF FUTURE
PREVENTION, BY A COMPLETE SYSTEM OF
_RIVER-POLICE;_
WITH AN ACCOUNT OF
_THE FUNCTIONS OF THE VARIOUS MAGISTRATES AND OTHERS_
EXERCISING OR CLAIMING JURISDICTION ON THE RIVER;
AND OF THE
_PENAL STATUTES AGAINST MARITIME OFFENCES_
OF EVERY DESCRIPTION.
[_The above will be published in the course of the Spring, by_ JOS.
MAWMAN, _in the Poultry._]
_CONTENTS._
CHAP. I.
GENERAL VIEW OF EXISTING EVILS.
PAGE
_Ineffective System of Criminal Jurisprudence.--Facility
of eluding Justice.--Severity and inequality of
Punishments.--Necessity of revising our Penal
Code.--Certain dangerous Offences not punishable.--Receivers
of Stolen Property.--Extent of Plunder in the Metropolis,
&c.--Proposed Restrictions on Receivers.--Coiners and
Utterers of Base Money; the extent of their crimes.--Defects
in the mode of prosecuting Offenders.--Pardons.--Periodical
Discharges of Prisoners.--Summary of the causes of the
present inefficacy of the Police, under nine different heads._ 1
CHAP. II.
ON THE SYSTEM OF PUNISHMENTS: THEORETICALLY CONSIDERED.
_The mode of ascertaining the Degrees of Punishment.--The
object to be considered in inflicting Punishments--Amendment,
Example, and Retribution.--In order to render Criminal
Laws perfect, prevention ought to be the great object of
the Legislature.--General Rules suggested for attaining this
object.--Reflections on the Punishments authorised by the
English Laws, and their disproportion.--The necessity of
enforcing the observance of religious and moral Virtue.--The
leading Offences made Capital by the Laws of England
considered, with the Punishments allotted to each; compared
with, and illustrated by, the Custom of other Countries;
with Reflections.--The Code of the Emperor_ JOSEPH _the
Second, shortly detailed.--Reflections thereon._ 29
[Transcriber's Note: should be p. 28]
CHAP. III.
THE CAUSE AND PROGRESS OF SMALL THEFTS.
_The numerous Receivers of Stolen Goods, under the
denomination of Dealers in Rags, Old Iron, and other
Metals.--The great Increase of these Dealers of late
years.--Their evil tendency, and the absolute necessity
of restraining them by Law.--Petty Thefts in the Country
round the Metropolis.--Workhouses the causes of
Idleness.--Commons.--Cottagers.--Gypsies.--Labourers
and Servants.--Thefts in Fields and Gardens.--Frauds in
the Sale and Adulteration of Milk._ 74
CHAP. IV.
ON BURGLARIES AND HIGHWAY ROBBERIES.
_These Crimes more peculiar to England than to
Holland and Flanders, &c.--A General View
of the various classes of Criminals engaged in
these pursuits, and with those discharged from
Prisons and the Hulks, without the means of
support.--The necessity of some antidote previous
to the return of Peace.--Observations on
the stealing Cattle, Sheep, Corn, &c.--Receivers
of Stolen Goods, the nourishers of every
description of Thieves.--Remedies suggested, by
means of detection and prevention._ 93
CHAP. V.
ON CHEATS AND SWINDLERS.
_A considerable check already given to the higher
class of Forgeries, by shutting out all hopes of
Royal Mercy.--Petty Forgeries have, however,
encreased.--The qualifications of a Cheat,
Swindler and Gambler.--The Common and
Statute Law applicable to Offences of this
nature, explained.--Eighteen different classes
of Cheats and Swindlers, and the various tricks
and devices they pursue.--Remedies proposed._ 110
CHAP. VI.
ON GAMING AND THE LOTTERY.
_The great anxiety of the Legislature to suppress
these Evils, which are however encouraged by
high sounding names, whose houses are opened
for purposes odious and unlawful.--The civil
Magistrate called upon to suppress such mischiefs.--The
danger arising from such Seminaries.--The
evil tendency of such examples to
Servants and others.--A particular statement
of the proceedings of a confederacy of Persons
who have set up Gaming-Houses as regular
Partnership-Concerns, and of the Evils resulting
therefrom.--Of Lottery Insurers of the
higher class.--Of Lottery Offices opened for
Insurance.--Proposed Remedies.--Three Plans
for drawing the Lottery so as to prevent all
Insurance._ 133
CHAP. VII.
ON THE COINAGE OF COUNTERFEIT MONEY.
_The Causes of the enormous increase of this Evil
of late years.--The different kinds of false coin
detailed.--The process in fabricating each
Species.--The immense profits arising therefrom.--The
extensive Trade in sending base Coin to
the Country.--Its universal circulation in the
Metropolis.--The great grievance arising from
it to Brewers, Distillers, Grocers, and all Retail
Dealers, as well as to the Labouring Poor.--Counterfeit
Foreign Money extremely productive
to the Dealers.--A summary View of the Causes
of the Mischief.--The Defects in the present
Laws explained:--And a Detail of the Remedies
proposed to be provided by the Legislature._ 171
CHAP. VIII.
ON RIVER PLUNDER.
_The magnitude of the Plunder of Merchandize
and Naval Stores on the River Thames.--The
wonderful extent and value of the Floating Property,
laden and unladen, in the Port of London
in the course of a year.--The modes heretofore
pursued in committing depredations through
the medium of various classes of Criminals, denominated
River Pirates:--Night Plunderers:--Light
Horsemen:--Heavy Horsemen:--Game Watermen:--Game
Lightermen:--Mudlarks:--Game Officers of the
Revenue:--And Copemen, or Receivers of Stolen
Property.--The effects of the Marine Police
Institution in checking these Depredations.--The
advantages which have already resulted to Trade and
the Revenue from this system partially tried.--The
further benefits to be expected from Legislative
Regulations, extending the System to the whole
Trade of the River._ 213
CHAP. IX.
ON PLUNDER IN THE DOCK-YARDS, &C.
_Reflections on the causes of this Evil.--Summary
view of the means employed in its perpetration.--Estimate
of the Public Property exposed to Hazard.--A Statement of
the Laws at present in force for its protection:--Proofs
adduced of their deficiency.--Remedies proposed and
detailed, viz:--1st. A Central Board of Police.--2d.
A Local Police for the Dock-yards.--3d. Legislative
Regulations in aid thereof.--4th. Regulations respecting
the sale of Old Stores.--5th. The Abolition of the
Perquisite of Chips.--6th. The Abolition of Fees and
Perquisites, and liberal Salaries in lieu thereof.--7th.
An improved Mode of keeping Accounts.--8th. An annual
Inventory of Stores in hand.--Concluding Observations._ 249
CHAP. X.
ON THE RECEIVERS OF STOLEN GOODS.
_Receivers more mischievous than Thieves.--The
increase of their number to be attributed to the
imperfection of the Laws, and to the disjointed
state of the Police of the Metropolis.--Thieves
in many instances, settle with Receivers before
they commit Robberies--Receivers always benefit
more than Thieves:--Their profit immense:--They
are divided into two Classes:--The immediate
Receivers connected with Thieves, and those who
keep shops and purchase from Pilferers in the way
of Trade:--The latter are extremely numerous.--The
Laws are insufficient effectually to reach either
class.--The existing statutes against Receivers
examined and briefly detailed, with Observations
thereon.--Amendments and Improvements suggested
with means to ensure their due execution._ 288
CHAP. XI.
ON THE ORIGIN OF CRIMINAL OFFENCES.
_The increase of Crimes imputed to deficient
Laws and an ill-regulated Police:--To the
habits of the Lower Orders in feeding their
families in Alehouses:--To the bad Education
of Apprentices:--To the want of Industry:--To
idle and profligate menial Servants out of
Place:--To the Lower Orders of the Jews, of the
Dutch and German Synagogues; To the depraved
Morals of aquatic Labourers:--To the Dealers in
Old Metals, Furniture, Clothes, &c.--To
disreputable Pawnbrokers:--And finally, to
ill-regulated Public Houses.--Concluding
Reflections._ 310
CHAP. XII.
THE ORIGIN OF CRIMES CONTINUED: FEMALE PROSTITUTION.
_The pitiable condition of the unhappy Females, who
support themselves by Prostitution:--The progress
from Innocence to Profligacy.--The morals of Youth
corrupted by the multitude of Prostitutes in the
streets.--The impossibility of preventing the existence
of Prostitution in a great Metropolis.--The Propriety
of lessening the Evil, by stripping it of its Indecency
and much of its immoral tendency.--The advantages of
the measure in reducing the mass of Turpitude.--Reasons
offered why the interests of Morality and Religion
will thus be promoted.--The example of Holland, Italy,
and the East-Indies quoted.--Strictures on the offensive
manners of the Company who frequent Public Tea
Gardens:--These places under a proper Police might be
rendered beneficial to the State.--Ballad-Singers--Immoral
Books and Songs--Necessity of Responsibility for the
execution of the Laws attaching somewhere._ 334
[Transcriber's Note: should be p. 333]
CHAP. XIII.
THE ORIGIN OF CRIMES CONTINUED: STATE OF THE POOR.
_The System with respect to the Casual Poor
erroneous.--The effect of Indigence on the
Offspring of the Sufferers.--Estimate of the
private and public Benevolence amounting to
850,000l. a year.--The deplorable state of
the Lower Ranks, attributed to the present
System of the Poor Laws.--An Institution to
inquire into the cause of Mendicity in the
Metropolis explained.--A new System of Relief
proposed with respect to Casual Poor, and
Vagrants in the Metropolis.--The distinction
between Poverty and Indigence.--The Poor
divided into five classes, with suggestions applicable
to each.--The evil Examples in Work-Houses.--The
stat. of 43 Eliz. considered.--The defective system
of Execution exposed.--A Public Institution
recommended in the nature of a Pauper Police,
under the direction of three Commissioners:--Their
Functions.--A proposition for raising a fund of
5230l. from the Parishes for the support of the
Institution, and to relieve them from the Casual
Poor.--Reasons why the experiment should be
tried.--Assistance which might be obtained from
Gentlemen who have considered this subject fully._ 351
CHAP. XIV.
ON THE DETECTION OF OFFENDERS.
_The present state of the Police on this subject
explained.--The necessity of having recourse to
known Receivers.--The great utility of Officers
of Justice.--The advantages of rendering them
respectable in the opinion of the Public.--Their
powers by the common and statute Law.--Rewards
granted to Officers in certain cases of
Conviction.--The Statutes quoted, applicable to
such rewards.--The utility of parochial Constables,
under a well-organized Police.--A Fund for this
purpose might arise from the reduction of the
expences of the Police, by the diminution of
Crimes.--The necessity of a competent Fund.--A new
System for prevention and detection of Crimes
proposed.--The functions of the different classes
of Officers.--Salaries necessary to all.--Improvements
in the system of Rewards suggested.--1040 Peace-Officers
in the Metropolis and its vicinity, of whom only
90 are stipendiary Constables.--Defects and abuses
in the system of the Watch explained.--A general
Plan of Superintendance suggested.--A view of the
Magistracy of the Metropolis.--The inconvenience
of the present System._ 381
CHAP. XV.
ON THE PROSECUTION OF OFFENDERS.
_The prevailing Practice when Offenders are brought
before Magistrates.--The duty of Magistrates in such
cases.--Professed Thieves seldom intimidated when put
upon their Trial, from the many chances they have of
escaping.--These Chances shortly detailed.--Reflections
on false Humanity towards Prisoners.--The delays and
expences of Prosecutions a great discouragement to
Prosecutors.--An account of the different Courts of
Justice, for the trial of Offences committed in the
Metropolis.--Five inferior and two superior Courts.--A
statement of Prisoners convicted and discharged in one
year.--Reflections thereon.--The advantage which would
arise from the appointment of a Public Prosecutor, in
remedying Abuses in the Trial of Offenders.--From 2500
to 3000 Persons committed for trial, by Magistrates,
in the course of a year.--The chief part afterwards
returned upon Society._ 422
[Transcriber's Note: should be p. 421]
CHAP. XVI.
ON THE SYSTEM OF PUNISHMENTS: CONSIDERED PRACTICALLY.
_The mode authorised by the Ancient Laws.--The period
when Transportation commenced.--The principal Crimes
enumerated which are punishable with Death.--Those
punishable by Transportation and Imprisonment.--Number
of Persons tried compared with those discharged.--The
system of Pardons examined; and Regulations suggested.--An
historical Account of the rise and progress of
Transportation.--The system of the Hulks; and the Laws
as to provincial and national Penitentiary Houses.--Number
of the Convicts confined in the Hulks for twenty-two | 2,189.648212 |
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[Illustration: Josh Billings at home.--Preparing his new Lecture.]
JOSH BILLINGS,
Hiz Sayings.
WITH COMIC ILLUSTRATIONS.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK:
_Carleton, Publisher, Madison Square._
LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO.
M DCCC LXX.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
G. W. CARLETON,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of
New York
TO
DEAKON URIAH BILLINGS,
(A man ov menny virtues, and sum vices) this book
iz completely dedikated--and may he hav
the strength tew stand it.
Hiz own nephew,
JOSHUA BILLINGS
Tred litely, dear reader, for the ^way iz ruff. This book waz got up
tew sell, but if it don't prove tew be a sell, I shan't worry about it.
J. BILLINGS.
CONTENTS.
Page.
I. JOSH BILLINGS ON THE MULE. 13
II. JOSH BILLINGS INSURES HIS LIFE. 15
III. REMARKS. 17
IV. ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. 19
V. A TABLOWS IN 4 ACKS. 22
VI. FEMALE EDDIKASHUN. 25
VII. DEPOZETIONS. 28
VIII. WAR AND ARMY PHRAZES. 31
IX. PASHUNCE OV JOB. 34
X. FRIENDLY LETTER. 35
XI. AFFURISIMS. 37
XII. JOSH BILLINGS ON CATS. 40
XIII. REMARKS. 43
XIV. JOSH BILLINGS ADDRESSES THE BILLINGSVILLE
SOWING SOSIETY. 45
XV. NOSHUNS. 47
XVI. SAYINS. 51
XVII. REMARKS. 53
XVIII. THE DEVIL'S PUTTY AND VARNISH. 56
XIX. MANIFEST DESTINY 59
XX. ANSWERS TO CONTRIBUTORS. 62
XXI. ON DOGS. 64
XXII. SAYINGS OF JOSH BILLINGS. 67
XXIII. FASHION. 70
XXIV. REMARKS. 73
XXV. PROVERBIAL PIG. 75
XXVI. PROVERBS. 77
XXVII. ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. 79
XXVIII. PROVERBS OF THE BILLINGS FAMILY. 82
XXIX. A FU REMARKS. 85
XXX. A LEKTURE TEW MALE YUNG MEN ONLY. 87
XXXI. CLEVER FELLOWS. 90
XXXII. AFFERISIMS. 92
XXXIII. ANSWERS TO CONTRIBUTORS. 94
XXXIV. A SHORT AND VERY AFFEKTING ESSA
ON MAN. 97
XXXV. THE RASE KOARSE. 100
XXXVI. "GIV THE DEVIL HIZ DUE." 106
XXXVII. WATCH DOGS. 108
XXXVIII. ANSWERS TO CONTRIBUTORS. 110
XXXIX. REMARKS. 113
XL. AN ESSA ONTO MUSIK. 117
XLI. "MAN WAZ MADE TEW MOURN." 120
XLII. PROVERBS. 122
XLIII. KISSING CONSIDERED. 124
XLIV. FOR A FU MINNITS AMONG THE SPEERITS. 128
XLV. SAYINGS. 131
XLVI. JOSH GOES TO LONG BRANCH. 133
XLVII. TO MY LADY CORRESPONDENTS. 137
XLVIII. ON WIDDERS. 140
XLIX. THINGS THAT I DON'T HANKER AFTER
TO SEE. 143
L. ON COURTING. 145
LI. REMARKS. 149
LII. THE FAULT FINDER. 152
LIII. PROVERBS. 154
LIV. KOLIDING. 156
LV. ON SNAIKS AND MUDTURKLES. 157
LVI. TRUE BILLS. 161
LVII. NARRATIF. 163
LVIII. PHOTOGRAPHS. 167
LIX. AFFERISIMS. 169
LX. JOSH GITS ORFULLY BIT. 172
LXI. THINGS THAT SUIT ME. 174
LXII. MY FIRST GONG. 176
LXIII. PROVERBS. 178
LXIV. DISIPLIN IZ EVRATHING--IN 2 PARTS. 181
LXV. CORRESPONDENTS. 183
LXVI. JOSH BILLINGS AT SARATOGA SPRINGS. 186
LXVII. NOT ENNY SHANGHI FOR ME. 189
LXVIII. IS DISPOSING OF THINGS FOR CHARITABLE
PURPOSES BI "LOT" A SIN. 191
LXIX. ADVERTIZEMENT. 193
| 2,189.946166 |
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Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: Knox Magee]
WITH RING OF SHIELD
"_On he came, and, to my great surprise and pleasure,
struck he my shield with the sharp point of his lance_.
"_Ah! my brave sons, ye all do know the pleasure 'tis
when, with ring of shield, ye are informed an enemy hath
come to do ye battle_."
BY KNOX MAGEE
_Illustrated by_ F. A. CARTER
GEORGE J. McLEOD
_PUBLISHER ---- TORONTO_
COPYRIGHT, 1900
BY
R. F. FENNO & COMPANY
CONTENTS
I. Sir Frederick Harleston
II. The Maidens
III. A First Brush with the Enemy
IV. The Taking of Berwick
V. From Berwick to Windsor
VI. The King's Gifts
VII. The Ball at the Castle
VIII. The Duel
IX. The King's Death
X. I am Sent to Ludlow
XI. Some Happenings at Windsor
XII. Gloucester Shows his Hand
XIII. The Flight from the Palace
XIV. I Reach Westminster
XV. Michael and Catesby
XVI. My Dangerous Position
XVII. At the Sanctuary
XVIII. Richard Triumphs
XIX. A Message is Sent to Richmond
XX. Before the Tournament
XXI. The Tournament
XXII. A Midnight Adventure
XXIII. The Arrest
XXIV. In the Tower
XXV. Michael and I
XXVI. The House with the Flag
XXVII. The Field of Bosworth
XXVIII. Conclusion
Illustrations
Knox Magee...................... _Frontispiece_
"Both our lances flew into a thousand pieces."
"The signal was then given."
"I am to blame, and I alone should suffer."
"Always remember thy mother and this, her advice."
"Ha, thou blond varmint."
"I climbed wearily to the top."
"Come on, ye pack of cowards."
With Ring of Shield
CHAPTER I
SIR FREDERICK HARLESTON
In these days, when the air is filled with the irritating, peevish
sounds of chattering gossips, which tell of naught but the scandals of
a court, where Queens are as faithless as are their lives brief,
methinks it will not be amiss for me to tell a story of more martial
days, when gossips told of armies marching and great battles fought,
with pointed lance, and with the bright swords' flash, and with the
lusty ring of shield.
Now, my friend Harleston doth contend, that peace and quiet, without
the disturbing clamour of war's dread alarms, do help to improve the
mind, and thus the power of thought is added unto. This, I doubt not,
is correct in the cases of some men; but there are others, to whom
peace and quiet do but bring a lack of their appreciation. I grant
that to such a mind as Harleston's, peaceful and undisturbed meditation
are the fields in which they love to stroll, and pluck, with tender
hand, and thought-bowed head, the most beautiful and most rare of
flowers: but then, such even-balanced brains as his are few and far
between; and even he, so fond of thought and study, did love to dash,
with levelled lance and waving plumes, against the best opponent, and
hurl him from his saddle.
And there is Michael, which ever thinks the same as do myself, and
longs for fresh obstacles to lay his mighty hand upon and crush, | 2,190.046247 |
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
ELLEN TERRY
AND HER SISTERS
[Illustration:
_Photographed by_ _Window & Grove._
ELLEN TERRY AS PORTIA.
_She first appeared in this part, one of the greatest of her
Shakespearean creations, at the old Prince of Wales's Theatre in 1875,
and resumed it at the Lyceum in 1879._
_Frontispiece._]
ELLEN TERRY
AND HER SISTERS
BY
T. EDGAR PEMBERTON
AUTHOR OF
"THE KENDALS;" "A MEMOIR OF E. | 2,190.145552 |
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Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Aside from the correction of obvious typographical errors, the text has
not been modernized; the original (some archaic) spellings have been
retained (Maderia for Madiera; marjorem for marjoram; Marsilles for
Marsailles; horison for horizon). [Note of etext transcriber.]
MEMORANDA
ON
TOURS, TOURAINE
AND
CENTRAL FRANCE.
Tours.--Printed by A. MAME and Co.
MEMORANDA
ON
TOURS AND TOURAINE
INCLUDING
REMARKS ON THE CLIMATE
with a sketch
OF THE
BOTANY AND GEOLOGY OF THE PROVINCE
ALSO ON THE
WINES
AND
MINERAL WATERS
OF
FRANCE
The maladies to which they are applicable, and their effects upon the
constitution. To which is added an appendix containing a variety of
useful information to
THE TOURIST
BY
J. H. HOLDSWORTH, M. D.
TOURS,
A. AIGRE, rue Royale.
Messrs. CALIGNANIS, No 18, rue Vivienne, PARIS;
HENRY RENSHAW, No 356, Strand, LONDON;
And all other Booksellers.
1842
"Thou, nature, art my Goddess; to thy law my | 2,190.246695 |
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[Illustration: There was a sudden flash of flame and the roar of an
explosion.—_Page_ 52.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE
MOTOR RANGERS’
WIRELESS STATION
BY
MARVIN WEST
AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR RANGERS’ LOST MINE,” “THE MOTOR
RANGERS THROUGH THE SIERRAS,” “THE MOTOR
RANGERS ON BLUE WATER,” “THE MOTOR
RANGERS’ CLOUD CRUISER,” ETC., ETC.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
CHARLES L. WRENN_
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1913
BY
HURST & COMPANY
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE WIRELESS ISLAND 5
II. A PASSENGER FOR THE SHORE 15
III. IN THE GRIP OF THE STORM 28
IV. WHEN THE ENGINE FAILED 36
V. NAT TO THE RESCUE 48
VI. SAVED FROM THE SEA 56
VII. ON “WIRELESS ISLAND” 65
VIII. AN AERIAL APPEAL 78
IX. A STERN CHASE 91
X. MORE BAD LUCK 100
XI. “THERE’S MANY A SLIP” 108
XII. THE SMUGGLER AT BAY 117
XIII. TRAPPED! 125
XIV. NAT A PRISONER 134
XV. UNDER THE EARTH 145
XVI. DRIFTING THROUGH THE NIGHT 153
XVII. ABOARD THE LIGHTSHIP 164
XVIII. JOE RECEIVES VISITORS 176
XIX. AND ALSO GETS A SURPRISE 187
XX. HANK EXPLAINS 201
XXI. IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS 213
XXII. AN UNEXPECTED STUDENT 221
XXIII. A CALL FROM THE SHORE 229
XXIV. WHAT JOE DID 239
XXV. LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT 247
XXVI. DING-DONG’S CLUE 256
XXVII. A LONELY TRAIL 265
XXVIII. AT THE OLD MISSION 276
XXIX. CORNERED AT LAST 291
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE MOTOR RANGERS’
WIRELESS STATION
CHAPTER I.
THE WIRELESS ISLAND.
The drowsy calm of a balmy afternoon at the Motor Rangers’ wireless camp
on Goat Island was abruptly shattered by a raucous, insistent clangor
from the alarm-bell of the wireless outfit. Nat Trevor, Joe Hartley and
Ding-dong Bell, who had been pretending to read but were in reality
dozing on the porch of a small portable wood and canvas house,
galvanized into the full tide of life and activity usually theirs.
“Something doing at last!” cried Nat. “It began to look as if there
wouldn’t be much for us on the island but a fine vacation, lots of
sea-breeze and coats of tan like old russet shoes.”
“I ter-told you there’d be ser-ser-something coming over the
a-a-a-a-aerials before long,” sputtered Ding-dong Bell triumphantly,
athrill with excitement.
“What do you suppose it is?” queried Joe Hartley, his red, good-natured
face aglow.
“Don’t go up in the air, Joe,” cautioned Nat, “it’s probably nothing
more thrilling than a weather report from one of the chain of coast
stations to another.”
“Get busy, Ding-dong, and find out,” urged Joe Hartley; “let’s see what
sort of a message you can corral out of the air.”
But young Bell was already plodding across the sand toward a small
timber structure about fifty yards distant from the Motor Rangers’ camp.
Above the shack stretched, between two lofty poles, the antennæ of the
wireless station. Against these the electric waves from out of space
were beating and sounding the wireless “alarm-clock,” an invention of
Ding-dong’s of which he was not a little proud.
Ding-dong had become inoculated with the wireless fever as a result of
the trip east which the Motor Rangers had taken following their stirring
adventures in the Bolivian Andes in Professor Grigg’s air-ship—which
experiences were related in the fourth volume of this series, The Motor
Rangers’ Cloud Cruiser. On their return to California—where all three
boys lived, in the coast resort of Santa Barbara—nothing would suit
Ding-dong but that they take a vacation on Goat Island and set up a
wireless plant for experimental purposes.
“I want to try it and away from home where a bunch of fellows won’t be
hanging about and joking me if I make a fizzle,” he explained.
As the lads while in the east had done a lot of business, some of it
connected with Nat’s gold mine in Lower California and some with
interests of Professor Griggs, they decided that they were entitled to
at least a short period of inactivity, and Ding-dong’s idea was hailed
as a good one. Goat Island, a rugged, isolated spot of land shaped like
a splash of gravy on a plate, was selected as an ideal camping place.
The wireless appliances, shipped from San Francisco, were conveyed to
the island on board the Rangers’ sturdy cabin cruiser _Nomad_, and three
busy, happy weeks had been devoted to putting it in working order. Since
the day that it had been declared “O. K.” by Ding-dong, the lads had
been crazy for the “wireless alarm” to ring in, and when it failed to do
so Ding-dong came in for a lot of good-natured joshing.
For some further account of the three chums, we must | 2,190.445874 |
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
SPEECHES, ADDRESSES,
AND
OCCASIONAL SERMONS,
BY
THEODORE PARKER,
MINISTER OF THE TWENTY-EIGHTH CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH IN BOSTON.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
BOSTON:
HORACE B. FULLER,
(SUCCESSOR TO WALKER, FULLER, AND COMPANY,)
245, WASHINGTON STREET.
1867.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
THEODORE PARKER,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court
of the District of Massachusetts.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
I.
A SERMON OF THE SPIRITUAL CONDITION OF BOSTON.--Preached
at the Melodeon, on Sunday, February 18, 1849
PAGE 1
II.
SOME THOUGHTS ON THE MOST CHRISTIAN USE OF THE
SUNDAY.--A Sermon preached at the Melodeon, on Sunday,
January 30, 1848 56
III.
A SERMON OF IMMORTAL LIFE.--Preached at the Melodeon
on Sunday, September 20, 1846 105
IV.
THE PUBLIC EDUCATION OF THE PEOPLE.--An Address
delivered before the Onondaga Teachers' Institute at Syracuse,
New York, October 4, 1849 139
V.
THE POLITICAL DESTINATION OF AMERICA, AND THE
SIGNS OF THE TIMES.--An Address delivered before
several literary Societies in 1848 198
VI.
A DISCOURSE OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF JOHN
QUINCY ADAMS.--Delivered at the Melodeon, on Sunday,
March 5, 1848 252
VII.
A SPEECH AT A MEETING OF THE AMERICAN ANTI-SLAVERY
SOCIETY, TO CELEBRATE THE ABOLITION OF
SLAVERY BY THE FRENCH REPUBLIC, April 6, 1848 331
VIII.
A SPEECH AT FANEUIL HALL, BEFORE THE NEW ENGLAND
ANTI-SLAVERY CONVENTION, May 31, 1848 344
IX.
SOME THOUGHTS ON THE FREE SOIL PARTY, AND THE
ELECTION OF GENERAL TAYLOR, December, 1848 360
A SERMON OF THE SPIRITUAL CONDITION OF BOSTON.--PREACHED AT THE
MELODEON, ON SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1849.
MATTHEW VIII. 20.
By their fruits ye shall know them.
Last Sunday I said something of the moral condition of Boston; to-day I
ask your attention to a Sermon of the Spiritual Condition of Boston. I
use the word spiritual in its narrower sense, and speak of the condition
of this town in respect to piety. A little while since, in a sermon of
piety, I tried to show that love of God lay at the foundation of all
manly excellence, and was the condition of all noble, manly development;
that love of truth, love of justice, love of love, were respectively the
condition of intellectual, moral, and affectional development, and that
they were also respectively the intellectual, moral, and affectional
forms of piety; that the love of God as the Infinite Father, the
totality of truth, justice, and love was the general condition of the
total development of man's spiritual powers. But I showed, that
sometimes this piety, intellectual, moral, affectional or total, did not
arrive at self-consciousness; the man only unconsciously loving the
Infinite in one or all these modes, and in such cases the man was a
loser by frustrating his piety, and allowing it to stop in the truncated
form of unconsciousness.
Now what is in you will appear out of you; if piety be there in any of
these forms, in either mode, it will come out; if not there, its fruits
cannot appear. You may reason forward or backward: if you know piety
exists, you may foretell its appearance; if you find fruits thereof, you
may reason back and be sure of its existence. Piety is love of God as
God, and as we only love what we are like, and in that degree, so it is
also a likeness to God. Now it is a general doctrine in Christendom that
divinity must manifest itself; and, in assuming the highest form of
manifestation known to us, divinity becomes humanity. However, that
doctrine is commonly taught in the specific and not generic form, and is
enforced by an historical and concrete example, but not by way of a
universal thesis. It appears thus: The Christ was God; as such He must
manifest himself; the form of manifestation was that of a complete and
perfect man. I reject the concrete example, but accept the universal
doctrine on which the special dogma of the Trinity is erected. From that
I deduce this as a general rule: If you follow the law of your nature,
and are simple and true to that, as much of godhead as there is in you,
so much of manhood will come out of you, and, as much of manhood comes
out of you, so much of godhead was there within you; as much subjective
divinity, so much objective humanity.
Such being the case, the demands you can make on a man for manliness
must depend for their answer on the amount of piety on deposit in his
character; so it becomes important to know the condition of this town in
respect of piety, for if this be not right in the above sense, nothing
else is right; or, to speak more clerically, "Unless the Lord keep the
city, the watchman waketh but in vain," and unless piety be developed or
a-developing in men, it is vain for the minister to sit up late of a
Saturday night to concoct his sermon, and to rise up early of a Sunday
morning to preach the same; he fights but as one that beateth the air,
and spends his strength for that which is nought. They are in the right,
therefore, who first of all things demand piety: so let us see what
signs or proof we have, and of what amount of piety in Boston.
To determine this, we must have some test by which to judge of the
quality, distinguishing piety from impiety, and some standard whereby to
measure the quantity thereof; for though you may know what piety is in
you, I what is in me, and God what is in both and in all the rest of us,
it is plain that we can only judge of the existence of piety in other
men, and measure its quantity by an outward manifestation thereof, in
some form which shall serve at once as a trial test and a standard
measure.
Now, then, as I mentioned in that former sermon, it is on various sides
alleged that there are two outward manifestations of piety, a good deal
unlike: each is claimed by some men as the exclusive trial test and
standard measure. Let me say a word of each.
I. Some contend for what I call the conventional standard; that is, the
manifestation of piety by means of certain prescribed forms. Of these
forms there are three modes or degrees: namely, first, the form of
bodily attendance on public worship; second, the belief in certain
doctrines, not barely because they are proven true, or known without
proof, but because they are taught with authority; and third, a passive
acquiescence in certain forms and ceremonies, or an active performance
thereof.
II. The other I call the natural standard; that is, the manifestation of
piety in the natural form of morality in its various degrees and modes
of action.
* * * * *
It is plain, that the amount of piety in a man or a town, will appear
very different when tested by one or the other of these standards. It
may be that very little water runs through the wooden trough which feeds
the saw-mill at Niagara, and yet a good deal, blue and bounding, may
leap over the rock, adown its natural channel. In a matter of this
importance, when taking account of a stock so precious as piety, it is
but fair to try it by both standards.
* * * * *
Let us begin with the conventional standard, and examine piety by its
manifestation in the ecclesiastical forms. Here is a difficulty at the
outset, in determining upon the measure, for there is no one and general
ecclesiastical standard, common to all parties of Christians, from the
Catholic to the Quaker; each measures by its own standard, but denies
the correctness of all the others. It is as if a foot were declared the
unit of long measure, and then the actual foot of the chief justice of a
State, were taken as the rule by which to correct all measurements; then
the foot would vary as you went from North Carolina to South, and, in
any one State, would vary with the health of the judge. However, to do
what can be done with a measure thus uncertain, it is plain, that,
estimated by any ecclesiastical standard, the amount of piety is small.
There is, as men often say, "A general decline of piety;" that is a
common complaint, recorded and registered. But what makes the matter
worse to the ecclesiastical philosopher, and more appalling to the
complainers, is this: it is a decline of long standing. The disease
which is thus lamented is said to be acute, but is proved to be chronic
also; only it would seem, from the lamentations of some modern
Jeremiahs, that the decline went on with accelerated velocity, and, the
more chronic the disease was, the acuter it also became.
Tried by this standard, things seem discouraging. To get a clearer view,
let us look a little beyond our own borders, at first, and then come
nearer home. The Catholic church complains of a general defection. The
majority of the Christian church confesses that the Protestant
Reformation was not a revival of religion, not a "Great awakening," but
a great falling to sleep; the faith of Luther and Calvin was a great
decline of religion--a decline of piety in the ecclesiastical form; that
modern philosophy, the physics of Galileo and Newton, the metaphysics of
Descartes and of Kant, mark another decline of religion--a decline of
piety in the philosophical form; that all the modern democracy of the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, marks a yet further decline of
religion--a decline of piety in the political form; that all the modern
secular societies, for removing the evils of men and their sins, mark a
yet fourth decline of religion--a decline of piety in the philanthropic
form. Certainly, when measured by the mediaeval standard of Catholicism,
these mark four great declensions of piety, for, in all four, the old
principle of subordination to an external and personal authority is set
aside.
All over Europe this decline is still going on; ecclesiastical
establishments are breaking down; other establishments are a-building
up. Pius the Ninth seems likely to fulfil his own prophecy, and be the
last of the Popes; I mean the last with temporal power. There is a great
schism in the north of Europe; the Germans will be Catholics, but no
longer Roman. The old forms of piety, such as service in Latin, the
withholding of the Bible from the people, compulsory confession, the
ungrateful celibacy of a reluctant priesthood--all these are protested
against. It is of no avail that the holy coat of Jesus, at Treves, works
greater miracles than the apostolical napkins and aprons; of no avail
that the Virgin Mary appeared on the nineteenth of September, 1846, to
two shepherd-children, at La Salette, in France. What are such things to
Ronge and Wessenberg? Neither the miraculous coat, nor the miraculous
mother, avails aught against this untoward generation, charm they never
so wisely. The decline of piety goes on. By the new Constitution of
France, all forms of religion are equal; the Catholic and the
Protestant, the Mahometan and the Jew, are equally sheltered under the
broad shield of the law. Even Spain, the fortress walled and moated
about, whither the spirit of the middle ages retired and shut herself up
long since, womanning her walls with unmanly priests and kings, with
unfeminine queens and nuns--even Spain fails with the general failure.
British capitalists buy up her convents and nunneries, to turn them into
woollen mills. Monks and nuns forget their beads in some new
handicraft; sister Mary, who sat still in the house, is now also busy
with serving, careful, indeed, about more things than formerly, but not
cumbered nor troubled as before. Meditative Rachels, and Hannahs, long
unblest, who sat in solitude, have now become like practical Dorcas,
making garments for the poor; the Bank is become more important than the
Inquisition. The order of St. Francis d'Assisi, of St. Benedict, even of
St. Dominic himself, is giving way before the new order of Arkwright,
Watt, and Fulton,--the order of the spinning jenny and the power-loom.
It is no longer books on the miraculous conception, or meditations on
the five wounds of the Saviour, or commentaries on the song of songs
which is Solomon's, that get printed there: but fiery novels of Eugene
Sue, and George Sand; and so extremes meet.
Protestant establishments share the same peril. A new sect of
Protestants rises up in Germany, who dissent as much from the letter and
spirit of Protestantism, as the Protestants from Catholicism; men that
will not believe the infallibility of the Bible, the doctrine of the
Trinity, the depravity of man, the eternity of future punishment, nor
justification by faith--a justification before God, for mere belief
before men. The new spirit gets possession of new men, who cannot be
written down, nor even howled down. Excommunication or abuse does no
good on such men as Bauer, Strauss, and Schwegler; and it answers none
of their questions. It seems pretty clear, that in all the north of
Germany, within twenty years, there will be entire freedom of worship,
for all sects, Protestant and Catholic.
In England, Protestantism has done its work less faithfully than in
Germany. The Protestant spirit of England came here two hundred years
ago, so that new and Protestant England is on the west of the ocean; in
England, an established church lies there still, an iceberg in the
national garden. But even there, the decline of the ecclesiastical form
of piety is apparent: the new bishops must not sit in the House of
Lords, till the old ones die out, for the number of lords spiritual must
not increase, though the temporal may; the new attempt, at Oxford and
elsewhere, to restore the Middle Ages, will not prosper. Bring back all
the old rites and forms into Leeds and Manchester; teach men the
theology of Thomas Aquinas, or of St. Bernard; bid them adore the
uplifted wafer, as the very God, men who toil all day with iron mills,
who ride in steam-drawn coaches, and talk by lightning in a whisper,
from the Irk to the Thames,--they will not consent to the philosophy or
the theology of the Middle Ages, nor be satisfied with the old forms of
piety, which, though too elevated for their fathers in the time of
Elizabeth, are yet too low for them, at least too antiquated. Dissenters
have got into the House of Commons; the test-act is repealed, and a man
can be a captain in the army, or a postmaster in a village, without
first taking the Lord's Supper, after the fashion of the Church of
England. Some men demand the abandonment of tithes, the entire
separation of Church and State, the return to "The voluntary principle"
in religion. "The battering ram which levelled old Sarum," and other
boroughs as corrupt, now beats on the church, and the "Church is in
danger." Men complain of the decline of piety in England. An intelligent
and very serious writer, not long ago, lamenting this decline, in proof
thereof, relates, that formerly men began their last wills, "In the name
of God, Amen;" and headed bills of lading with, "Shipped in good order,
by the grace of God;" that indictments for capital crimes charged the
culprit with committing felony, "At the instigation of the devil," and
now, he complains, these forms have gone out of use.
In America, in New England, in Boston, when measured by that standard,
the same decline of piety is apparent. It is often said that our
material condition is better than our moral; that in advance of our
spiritual condition. There is a common clerical complaint of a certain
thinness in the churches; men do not give their bodily attendance, as
once they did; they are ready enough to attend lectures, two or three in
a week, no matter how scientific and abstract, or how little connected
with their daily work, yet they cannot come to the church without
teasing beforehand, nor keep awake while there. It is said the minister
is not respected as formerly. True, a man of power is respected, heard,
sought, and followed, but it is for his power, for his words of grace
and truth, not for his place in a pulpit; he may have more influence as
a man, but less as a clergyman. Ministers lament a prevalent disbelief
of their venerable doctrines; that there is a concealed skepticism in
regard to them, often not concealed. This, also, is a well-founded
complaint; the well-known dogmas of theology were never in worse repute;
there was never so large a portion of the community in New England who
were doubtful of the Trinity, of eternal damnation, of total depravity,
of the atonement, of the Godhead of Jesus, of the miracles of the New
Testament, and of the truth of every word of the Bible. A complaint is
made, that the rites and forms which are sometimes called "the
ordinances of religion," are neglected; that few men join the church,
and though the old hedge is broken down before the altar, yet the number
of communicants diminishes, and it is no longer able-headed men, the
leaders of society, who come; that the ordinances seem haggard and
ghastly to young men, who cannot feed their hungry souls on such a thin
pittance of spiritual aliment as these afford; that the children are not
baptized. These things are so; so in Europe, Catholic and Protestant; so
in America, so in Boston. Notwithstanding the well-founded complaint
that our modern churches are too costly for the times, we do not build
temples which bear so high a proportion to our wealth as the early
churches of Boston; the attendance at meeting does not increase as the
population; the ministers are not prominent, as in the days of Wilson,
of Cotton, and of Norton; their education is not now in the same
proportion to the general culture of the times. Harvard College,
dedicated to "Christ and the Church," designed at first chiefly for the
education of the clergy, graduates few ministers; theological literature
no longer overawes all other. The number of church members was never so
small in proportion to the voters as now; the number of Protestant
births never so much exceeded the number of Protestant baptisms. Young
men of superior ability and superior education have little affection for
the ministry; take little interest in the welfare of the church. Nay,
youths descended from a wealthy family seldom look that way. It is poor
men's sons, men of obscure family, who fill the pulpits; often,
likewise, men of slender ability, eked out with an education
proportionately scant. The most active members of the churches are
similar in position, ability, and culture. These are undeniable facts.
They are not peculiar to New England. You find them wherever the
voluntary principle is resorted to. In England, in Catholic countries,
you find the old historic names in the Established Church; there is no
lack of aristocratic blood in clerical veins; but there and everywhere
the church seems falling astern of all other craft which can keep the
sea.
Since these things are so, men who have only the conventional standard
wherewith to measure the amount of piety, only that test to prove its
existence by, think we are rapidly going to decay; that the tabernacle
is fallen down, and no man rises to set it up. They complain that Zion
is in distress; theological newspapers lament that there are no revivals
to report; that "The Lord has withheld His arm," and does not "pour out
His Spirit upon the churches." Ghastly meetings are held by men with
sincere and noble heart, but saddened face; speeches are made which seem
a groan of linked wailings long drawn out. Men mourn at the infidelity
of the times, at the coldness of some, at the deadness of others. All
the sects complain of this, yet each loves to attribute the deadness of
the rival sects to their special theology; it is Unitarianism which is
choking the Unitarians, say their foes, and the Unitarians know how to
retort after the same fashion. The less enlightened put the blame of
this misfortune on the good God who has somehow "withheld His hand," or
omitted to "pour out His Spirit,"--the people perishing for want of the
open vision. Others put the blame on mankind; some on "poor human
nature," which is not what might have been expected, not perceiving
that if the fault be there it is not for us to remedy, and if God made
man a bramble-bush, that no wailing will make him bear figs. Yet others
refer this condition to the use made of human nature, which certainly is
a more philosophical way of looking at the matter.
Now there is one sect which has done great service in former days, which
is, I think, still doing something to enlighten and liberalize the land,
and, I trust, will yet do more, more even than it consciously intends.
The name of Unitarian is deservedly dear to many of us, who yet will not
be shackled by any denominational fetters. This sect has always been
remarkable for a certain gentlemanly reserve about all that pertained to
the inward part of religion; other faults it might have, but it did not
incur the reproach of excessive enthusiasm, or a spirituality too
sublimated and transcendental for daily use. This sect has long been a
speckled bird among the denominations, each of which has pecked at her,
or at least cawed with most unmelodious croak against this new-fledged
sect. It was said the Unitarians had "denied the Lord that bought them;"
that theirs was the church of unbelief--not the church of Christ, but of
No-Christ; that they had a Bible of their own, and a thin, poor Bible,
too; that their ways were ways of destruction; "Touch not, taste not,
handle not," was to be written on their doctrines; that they had not
even the grace of lukewarmness, but were moral and stone-cold; that
they looked fair on the side turned towards man, but on the Godward side
it was a blank wall with no gate, nor window, nor loop-hole, nor eyelet
for the Holy Ghost to come through; that their prayers were only a show
of devotion to cover up the hard rock of the flinty heart, or the frozen
ground of morality. Their faith, it was said, was only a conviction
after the case was proven by unimpeachable evidence, and good for
nothing; while belief without evidence, or against proof, seems to be
the right ecclesiastical talisman.
For a long time the Unitarian sect did not grumble unduly, but set
itself to promote the cultivation of reason and apply that to religion;
to cultivate morality and apply it to life; and to demand the most
entire personal freedom for all men in all matters pertaining to
religion. Hence came its merits; they were very great merits, too, and
not at all the merits of the times, held in common with the other sects.
I need not dwell on this, and the good works of Unitarianism, in this
the most Unitarian city in the world; but as a general thing the
Unitarians, it seems to me, did neglect the culture of piety; and of
course their morality, while it lasted, would be unsatisfactory, and in
time would wither and dry up because it had no deepness of earth to grow
out of. The Unitarians, as a general thing, began outside, and sought to
work inward, proceeding from the special to the general, by what might
be called the inductive mode of religious culture; that was the form
adopted in pulpits, and in families so far as there was any religious
education attempted in private. That is not the method of nature, where
all growth is the development of a living germ, which by an inward power
appropriates the outward things it needs, and grows thereby. Hence came
the defects of Unitarianism, and they were certainly very great defects;
but they came almost unavoidably from the circumstances of the times.
The sensational philosophy was the only philosophy that prevailed; the
Orthodox sects had always rejected a part of that philosophy, not in the
name of science, but of piety, and they supplied its place not with a
better philosophy, but with tradition, speaking with an authority which
claimed to be above human nature. It was not in the name of reason that
they rejected a false philosophy, but in the name of religion often
denounced all philosophy and the reason which demanded it. The
Unitarians rejected that portion of Orthodoxy, became more consistent
sensationalists, and arrived at results which we know. Now it is easy to
see their error; not difficult to avoid it; but forty or fifty years ago
it was almost impossible not to fall into this mistake. Sometimes it
seems as if the Unitarians were half conscious of this defect, and so
dared not be original, but borrowed Orthodox weapons, or continued to
use Trinitarian phrases long after they had blunted those weapons of
their point, and emptied the phrases of their former sense. In the
controversy between the Orthodox and Unitarians, neither party was
wholly right: the Unitarians had reason to charge the Orthodox with
debasing man's nature, and representing God as not only unworthy, but
unjust, and somewhat odious; the Trinitarians were mainly right in
charging us with want of conscious piety, with beginning to work at the
wrong end; but at the same time it must be remembered, that, in
proportion to their numbers, the Unitarians have furnished far more
philanthropists and reformers than any of the other sects. It is time to
confess this on both sides.
For a long time the Unitarian sect did not complain much of the decline
of piety; it did not care to have an organization, loving personal
freedom too well for that, and it had not much denominational feeling;
indeed, its members were kept together, not so much by an agreement and
unity of opinion among themselves, as by a unity of opposition from
without; it was not the hooks on their shields that held the legion
together with even front, but the pressure of hostile shields crowded
upon them from all sides. They did not believe in spasmodic action; if a
body was dead, they gave it burial, | 2,190.546716 |
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Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: The Empress of Russia and Queen Alexandra]
RUSSIAN MEMORIES
BY
MADAME OLGA NOVIKOFF "O.K."
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY STEPHEN GRAHAM
AND FIFTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS
HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED 12 ARUNDEL PLACE HAYMARKET LONDON S.W. MCMXVII
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND
{1}
INTRODUCTION
BY STEPHEN GRAHAM
It is perhaps a little superfluous for one of my years to write an
introduction for one so well known and so much esteemed and admired as
Madame Novikoff. And yet it may seem just, if it does not seem vain,
that a full-hearted tribute should come to her from this generation
which profits by the result of her life and her work--the great new
friendship between England and Russia.
She is one of the most interesting women in European diplomatic
circles. She is a picturesque personality, but more than that she is
one who has really done a great deal in her life. You cannot say of
her, as of so many brilliant women, "She was born, she was admired, she
passed!" Destiny used her to accomplish great ends.
For many in our society life, she stood for Russia, was Russia. For
the poor people of England Russia was represented by the filth of the
Ghetto and the crimes of the so-called "political" refugees; for the
middle classes who read Seton Merriman, Russia was a fantastic country
of revolutionaries and bloodthirsty police; but fortunately the ruling
and upper classes always have had some better vision, they have had the
means of travel, they have seen real representative Russians in their
midst. {2} "They are barbarians, these Russians!" says someone to his
friend. But the friend turns a deaf ear. "I happen to know one of
them," says he.
A beautiful and clever woman always charms, whatever her nationality
may be, and it is possible for her to make conquests that predicate
nothing of the nation to which she belongs. That is true, and therein
lay the true grace and genius of Madame Novikoff. She was not merely a
clever and charming woman, she was Russia herself. Russia lent her
charm. Thus her friends were drawn from serious and vital England.
Gladstone learned from her what Russia was. The great Liberal, the man
who, whatever his virtues, and despite his high religious fervour, yet
committed Liberalism to anti-clericalism and secularism, learned from
her to pronounce the phrase, "Holy Russia." He esteemed her. With his
whole spiritual nature he exalted her. She was his Beatrice, and to
her more than to anyone in his life he brought flowers. Morley has
somehow omitted this in his biography of Gladstone. Like so many
intellectual Radicals he is afraid of idealism. But in truth the key
to the more beautiful side of Gladstone's character might have been
found in his relationship to Madame Novikoff. And possibly that
friendship laid the real foundation of the understanding between the
two nations.
Incidentally let me remark the growing friendliness towards Russia
which is noticeable in the work of Carlyle at that time. A tendency
towards friendship came thus into the air far back in the Victorian era.
{3}
Another most intimate friendship was that of Kinglake and Madame
Novikoff, where again was real appreciation of a fine woman. Anthony
Froude worshipped at the same shrine, and W. T. Stead with many another
in whose heart and hand was the making of modern England.
A marvellously generous and unselfish nature, incapacity to be dull or
feel dull or think that life is dull--a delicious sense of the
humorous, an ingenious mind, a courtliness, and with all this something
of the goddess. She had a presence into which people came. And then
she had a visible Russian soul. There was in her features that
unfamiliar gleam which we are all pursuing now, through opera,
literature and art--the Russian genius.
Madame Novikoff was useful to Russia, it has been reproachfully said.
Yes, she was useful in promoting peace between the two Empires, she was
worth an army in the field to Russia. Yes, and now it may be said she
has been worth an army in the field to us.
When Stead went down on the _Titanic_ one of the last of the great men
who worshipped at her shrine had died. Be it remarked how great was
Stead's faith in Russia, and especially in the Russia of the Tsar and
the Church. And it is well to remember that Madame Novikoff belongs to
orthodox Russia and has never had any sympathy whatever with
revolutionary Russia. This has obtained for her not a few enemies.
There are many Russians with strong political views, estimable but
misguided men, who have issued in the past such harmful rubbish as
_Darkest Russia_, journals and pamphlets wherein {4} systematically
everything to the discredit of the Tsar and his Government, every ugly
scandal or enigmatical happening in Russian contemporary life was
written up and then sent post free to our clergy, etc. To them Madame
Novikoff is naturally distasteful. But as English people we ask, who
has helped us to understand "Brightest Russia"--the Russia in arms
to-day? And the praise and the thanks are to her.
STEPHEN GRAHAM.
Moscow,
27_th August_, 1916.
{5}
EDITOR'S PREFACE
The late W. T. Stead in saying to Madame Novikoff, "When you die, what
an obituary I will write of you," was paying her a great compliment;
just as was Disraeli, although unconsciously, in referring to her as
"the M.P. for Russia in England." With that consummate tact which
never fails her, Madame Novikoff has evaded the compliment and
justified the sarcasm. Disraeli might with justice have added that she
was also "M.P. for England in Russia"; for if she has appeared
pro-Russian in England, she has many times been reproached in Russia as
pro-English.
Of few women have such contradictory things been said and written,
things that clearly show the gradual change in the political barometer;
but her most severe critics indirectly paid tribute to her remarkable
personality by fearing the influence she possessed. In the dark days
when Great Britain and Russia were thinking of each other only as
potential antagonists, she was regarded in this country as a Russian
agent, whose every action was a subject for suspicious speculation, a
national danger, a syren whose object it was to entice British {6}
politicians from their allegiance. Wherever she went it was, according
to public opinion, with some fell purpose in view. If she came to
London for the simple purpose of improving her English, it meant to a
certain section of the Press Russian "diplomatic activity." The Tsar
was told by an English journalist that he ought to "be very proud of
her," as she succeeded where "Russian papers, Ambassadors and Envoys
failed"; another said that she was "worth an army of 100,000 men to her
country"; a third that she was a "stormy petrel." She was, in fact,
everything from a Russian agent to a national danger, everything in
short but the one thing she professed to be, a Russian woman anxious
for her country's peace and progress.
In Serbia there is a little village whose name commemorates the death
of a Russian hero, Nicolas Kiréef, Madame Novikoff's brother. In his
death lay the seed of the Anglo-Russian Alliance. Distraught with
grief, Madame Novikoff blamed Great Britain for her loss. She argued
that, had this country refused to countenance the unspeakableness of
the Turk in 1876, there would have been no atrocities, no Russian
Volunteers, and no war. From that date she determined to do everything
that lay in her power to bring about a better understanding between
Great Britain and Russia. For years she has never relaxed her efforts,
and she has lived to see what is perhaps the greatest monument ever
erected by a sister to a brother's memory--the Anglo-Russian Alliance.
{7}
Nothing discouraged her, and at times, when war seemed inevitable, she
redoubled her efforts. In all her work, she had chiefly to depend on
her own ardour and sincerity. It | 2,190.546803 |
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Produced by David Edwards, Ryan Cowell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
BOOKS BY ELSIE SINGMASTER
When Sarah Saved the Day
When Sarah Went to School
Gettysburg
Katy Gaumer
Emmeline
The Long Journey
The Life of Martin Luther
John Baring's House
Basil Everman
Ellen Levis
Bennett Malin
The Hidden Road
A Boy at Gettysburg
Bred in the Bone
Keller's Anna Ruth
'Sewing Susie'
What Everybody Wanted
Virginia's Bandit
You Make Your Own Luck
A Little Money Ahead
WHEN SARAH SAVED
THE DAY
[Illustration: SARAH DID NOT SPEAK, SHE ONLY HID HER EYES (page 126)]
WHEN SARAH SAVED
THE DAY
BY ELSIE SINGMASTER
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
[Illustration]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY ELSIE SINGMASTER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED INCLUDING THE RIGHT TO REPRODUCE
THIS BOOK OR PARTS THEREOF IN ANY FORM
_Published October 1909_
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
TO CAROLINE HOOPES SINGMASTER
CONTENTS
I. Uncle Daniel's Offer 1
II. The Rebels take to Arms 24
III. Uncle Daniel steals a March 44
IV. There is Company to Supper 62
V. The Blow falls 79
VI. The Orphans' Court 97
VII. "And now We will go Home" 116
ILLUSTRATIONS
SARAH DID NOT SPEAK, SHE ONLY HID HER EYES (Page 126) _Frontispiece_
GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME WITH MY CHILDREN 20
THE STATION AGENT LOOKED AT THEM CURIOUSLY 94
UNCLE DANIEL SMILED AND DREW OUT TWO SHINING DOLLARS 112
WHEN SARAH SAVED THE DAY
CHAPTER I
UNCLE DANIEL'S OFFER
Sarah Wenner, who was fifteen years old, but who did not look more than
twelve, hesitated in the doorway between the kitchen and the best room,
a great tray of tumblers and cups in her hands.
"Those knives and forks we keep always in here, Aunt Mena. We do not
use them for every day."
Her aunt, Mena Illick, lifted the knives from the drawer where she had
laid them. One could see from her snapping black eyes that she did not
enjoy being directed by Sarah. But order was order, and no one ever
justly accused a Pennsylvania German housewife of not putting things
where they belonged. She laid the knives on the table for Sarah to put
away.
The kitchen seemed strangely lonely and empty that evening, in spite of
the number of persons who were there.
Besides little Sarah, who was the head of the Wenner household, now
that the father was dead and the oldest son had gone away, and her Aunt
Mena, who had driven thither for the funeral that afternoon, there was
an uncle, Daniel Swartz, and his wife Eliza, who was just then wringing
out the tea-towels from a pan of scalding suds, and the Swartzes' hired
man, Jacob Kalb, short and stout, with a smooth-shaven face and tiny
black eyes.
Daniel Swartz sat beside the wide table, the hired man by his side.
On chairs against the wall, sitting now upright, now leaning against
each other when sleep overpowered them, were the Wenner twins, Louisa
Ellen and Ellen Louisa, whose combination of excessive slenderness and
appearance of good health could be due only to constant activity. In
their waking moments they looked not unlike eager little grasshoppers,
ready for a spring.
The last member of the party lay peacefully sleeping on the deep settle
before the fireplace. His wide blue eyes were closed, his chubby arms
thrown above his head. Worn with the excitement of the day, too young
to realize that the cheerful, merry father whom they had carried away
that afternoon would never return, he slept on, the only one entirely
at ease.
Daniel Swartz rose every few minutes to cover him more thoroughly. Aunt
'Liza and Aunt Mena watched Uncle Daniel, the eyes of the twins rested
with scornful disfavor upon Jacob Kalb, and Sarah watched them all. Her
tired eyes widened with apprehension when she saw her uncle bend over
Albert as if he were his own, and she bit her lips when she saw Aunt
'Liza and Aunt Mena whispering together. Returning with the empty tray,
she moved swiftly across the kitchen to where the twins were sitting.
At that moment they were awake and engaged in their favorite pastime of
teasing Jacob Kalb.
Jacob had an intense desire to be considered English, and in an
unfortunate moment had translated his name, not realizing how much
worse its English equivalent, "Calf," would sound to English ears than
the uncomprehended German "Kalb." It was the twins' older brother,
William, who had now been away from home so long that they had almost
forgotten him, who had heard Jacob telling his new name to some
strangers.
"Ach, no, I cannot speak German very good. I am not German. My name is
Jacob Calf."
He saw in their faces that he had made a mistake, but it was too late
to retract. Besides, William Wenner, whom he hated, and who had been to
the Normal School, had heard, and as long as Jacob lived the name would
cling to him. Ellen Louisa and Louisa Ellen, accustomed to shout it at
him from a safe vantage-ground on their own side of the fence, called
it softly now when the older people were talking, "Jacob Calf! Jacob
Calf!"
Then, suddenly, each twin found her arm clutched as though in a vise.
"Ellen Louisa and Louisa Ellen, be still. Not a word! Not a word!"
"But--" began the twins together. Sarah had always aided and abetted
them. It was Sarah who had invented such brilliant rhymes as,
Jacob Calf,
You make me laugh.
Sarah's nonsense had amused the father and delighted the children for
many weary months. Why had she suddenly become so strange and solemn?
To the twins death had as yet no very terrible meaning, and they knew
nothing of care and responsibility. Each jerked her arm irritably
away from Sarah's hand. Why didn't she tell the aunts and uncle to
go home and let them go to bed? And why was Jacob Kalb there in the
kitchen? Why--But the twins were too drowsy to worry very long. Leaning
comfortably against each other, they fell asleep once more.
Sarah continued her journey across the room to gather up a pile of
plates. She sympathized thoroughly with the twins in their hatred
for the hired man. He had no business there. If the uncle and aunts
wished to discuss their plans, they should do it alone, and not in the
presence of this outsider. But he knew all Uncle Daniel's affairs, and
was now too important a person to be teased.
Sarah put the plates into the corner-cupboard, arranging them in their
accustomed places along the back. She had seen Aunt Eliza's and Aunt
Mena's eyes glitter as they washed them.
"It ain't one of them even a little bit cracked," said Aunt 'Liza.
"They should have gone all along to pop and not to Ellie Wenner."
"And the homespun shall come to me," said Aunt Mena.
Sarah had been ready with a sharp reply, but had checked it on her
lips. "Pop" and Aunt Mena, indeed! She thought of their well-stocked
houses. Her mother had had few enough of the family treasures.
She stopped for a moment to wipe her eyes before she went back to the
kitchen, standing by the window and looking out over the dark fields.
There was no lingering sunset glow to brighten the sky, but Sarah's
eyes seemed to pierce the gloom, as though she would follow the sun to
that distant country where her brother had vanished.
Two hundred years before, their ancestors had come from the Fatherland,
and ever since, adventurous souls had insisted upon leaving this
safe haven to penetrate still farther into the enchanted West. Whole
families had gone; in Ohio were towns and counties whose people bore
the familiar Pennsylvania German names, Yeager, Miller, Wagner, Swartz,
Schwenk, Gaumer. Dozens of young men had gone to California in '49.
Some had returned, some were never heard of again. Fifty years later,
the rumor of gold drew young men away once more, this time into the
bitter cold of the far Northwest.
William's indulgent father had let him go almost without a word of
objection. He knew what _wanderlust_ was. And for some reason William
had seemed suddenly to become unhappy. The farm was small, too small
to support them all; there were four younger children, and William,
to his father's and mother's secret delight, had declined his Uncle
Daniel's offer of adoption. They had let him take his choice between
the straitened, simple life at home and the prospect of ease and wealth
at Uncle Daniel's.
Uncle Daniel had never forgiven them or him. William's success at the
Normal School, where, with great sacrifice, he was sent, irritated
him; William's election as a township school director made him furious.
It is safe to say that Daniel Swartz and Jacob Kalb were the only
persons in Upper Shamrock township who did not like William. Even Miss
Miflin, the pretty school-teacher, went riding with him in his buggy,
and all the farmers and the farmers' wives were fond of him.
"His learning doesn't spoil him," said Mrs. Ebert, who lived on the
next farm. "He is just so nice and common as when he went away."
And then he had gone away again, not to the Normal School, but to
Alaska. Sarah remembered dimly how he and his father had pored over
the old atlas after the twins had been put, protesting, to bed, and
the mother had sat with Albert in her arms, and, when the men were not
watching her, with a sad, frightened look in her eyes. Sarah could
understand both her brother's eagerness and her mother's sadness.
Little did any of them foresee what the next few years were to bring.
The little mother went first, with messages for William on her last
breath, and now the dear, cheerful father. Surely, if William could
have guessed, he would never have gone so far away.
But for two years they had had no word. At first there had been
frequent letters. When he reached Seattle, it had been too late for him
to go north, and he waited for spring. Then it was difficult to get
passage, and there was another delay. After that the letters grew fewer
and fewer, and finally ceased.
Meanwhile, a strange shadow had crept over William's name and William's
memory. Pretty Miss Miflin asked no more about him, Uncle Daniel came
and spoke sharply to Sarah's father and mother and then they talked
about him in whispers when they thought Sarah did not hear. Once she
caught an unguarded sentence:--
"I have written again. If he does not answer, he is dishonest or--"
"No!" her mother had answered sharply. "No! William will come home, and
then he will tell us!"
But William had neither come nor written. So far as they knew he had
not heard of his mother's death, and there was no telling whether the
announcement of his father's death would reach him. Perhaps he, too,
might be--
But that thought Sarah would not admit for the fragment of a second to
her burdened mind. She wiped away her tears once more, and then she
almost succeeded in smiling. The black clouds in the west were parting.
Here and there a star peeped through. She knew a few of them by name.
There was Venus,--Sarah, whose English was none of the best, would have
called it "Wenus,"--her father had loved it. Often he had watched it
from this window. Perhaps William saw it, too, in that mysterious night
in which he lived. Ah, what tales there would be to tell when William
came home!
Her father's death had meant the giving up of all Sarah's dreams and
hopes. Three years before, they had driven one day to a neighboring
town. Drives were not frequent in that busy household. Sarah remembered
yet how fine Dan and Bill had looked in their newly blackened harness,
and how proud she had felt, sitting with her father on the front seat.
They had seen many wonderful things: a paint-mill, a low, long
building, covered, inside and out, with thick layers of red powder; and
the ore mines, great holes in the yellow soil, where the ore needed
only to be dug out from the surface; and they had stopped to watch a
cast at a blast-furnace. But most wonderful of all was the "Normal."
Sarah had seen the slender tower of the main building against the sky.
"What is then that?" she had asked.
"That is the Normal, where William went to school."
"Ach, yes, of course!" cried Sarah.
All the delightful things in the world were connected with William. Her
father looked down at the sparkling eyes in the eager little face. He
had had little education himself, but he knew its value.
"Would you like, then, to come here to school?"
Sarah's face grew a deep crimson. She looked at the trees, the wide
lawns, the young people at play in the tennis-courts.
"I? To school? Here?"
"Of course. Wouldn't you like to be such a teacher like Miss Miflin?"
Sarah's face grew almost white. It was as though he had said, "Would
you like to be President of the United States?"
"_I!_ Like Miss Miflin! Ach, pop, do you surely mean it? But I am too
dumb."
Her father laughed.
"No, you are not dumb. If you are good, and if you study, you dare come
here."
Ah, but how could one study with a sick mother, and then a sick father
and a baby to look after, and twins like Ellen Louisa and Louisa Ellen
to bring up, and--
Sarah went slowly back to the kitchen. It was like going into church,
all was so still and solemn. Albert and the twins slept, Aunt 'Liza and
Aunt Mena had taken their places on the opposite side of the table from
Uncle Daniel and Jacob Kalb.
"Come, come," cried Uncle Daniel impatiently. He did not like
black-eyed little Sarah. She looked too much like her father, whom his
sister had married against his will. "We must get this fixed up. Sit
down, once."
Sarah sat down on the nearest seat, which was the lower end of the
settle on which Albert lay. She wiped her hot face on her gingham
apron, then laid her hand on Albert's stubby little shoes, as though
she needed something to hold to.
"Don't," commanded Uncle Daniel. "You wake him up if you don't look a
little out."
Sarah's eyes flashed. As though she would wake him, her own baby, whom
she had tended for three years! She wanted to tell them to go, to leave
her alone with her children. But again she was wisely silent. She did
not know yet what it was that her uncle meant to "fix up."
Swartz pulled his chair a little closer to the table. He looked
uncomfortable in his black suit and his stiff collar. Occasionally he
slipped his finger behind it and pulled it away from his throat, as
though it were too tight. It seemed as if his remarks were for the
benefit of Sarah alone, even though he did not look at her, for Aunt
Mena and Aunt 'Liza and the hired man helped him out with an occasional
word as if they knew beforehand what | 2,190.747801 |
2023-11-16 18:53:34.9264050 | 1,927 | 6 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Melissa McDaniel, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
LEARN ONE THING
EVERY DAY
SEPTEMBER 15 1916
SERIAL NO. 115
THE
MENTOR
WALTER SCOTT
By HAMILTON W. MABIE
Author and Editor
DEPARTMENT OF
LITERATURE
VOLUME 4
NUMBER 15
FIFTEEN CENTS A COPY
The Wizard of the North
[Illustration]
The causes of Sir Walter Scott's ascendancy are to be found in the
goodness of his heart, the integrity of his conduct, the romantic
and picturesque accessories and atmosphere of his life, the fertile
brilliancy of his literary execution, the charm that he exercises,
both as man and artist, over the imagination, the serene, tranquilizing
spirit of his works, and, above all, the buoyancy, the happy freedom of
his genius.
[Illustration]
He was not simply an intellectual power, he was also a human and gentle
comforter. He wielded an immense mental force, but he always wielded it
for good, and always with tenderness. It is impossible to conceive of
his ever having done a wrong act, or of any contact with his influence
that would not inspire the wish to be virtuous and noble. The scope
of his sympathy was as broad as are the weakness and need of the human
race. He understood the hardship in the moral condition of mankind and
he wished and tried to relieve it.
[Illustration]
His writings are full of sweetness and cheer, and they contain nothing
that is morbid--nothing that tends toward surrender or misery. He
did not sequester himself in mental pride, but simply and sturdily,
through years of conscientious toil, he employed the faculties of a
strong, tender, gracious genius for the good of his fellow-creatures.
The world loves him because he is worthy to be loved, and because
he has lightened the burden of its care and augmented the sum of its
happiness.
From "Over the Border" by William Winter
[Illustration: FLORA MACIVOR--"WAVERLEY"
COURTESY, THE PAGE COMPANY
FROM A DRAWING BY R. W. MACBETH]
Waverley
ONE
"Waverley" is a story of the rebellion of the chevalier Prince Charles
Edward, in Scotland, in 1745.
Edward Waverley, the central figure of the tale, was a captain of
dragoons in the English army. He obtained a leave of absence from
his regiment and went to Scotland for a rest, staying at the home of
Baron Bradwardine. During his stay a band of Highlanders drove off the
Baron's cattle, and Waverley offered his assistance in recovering them.
Fergus MacIvor was the chief of the band which stole the cattle.
Waverley met his sister, Flora, and fell in love with her, but she
discouraged him.
Later Waverley was wounded by a stag; and the rebellion having started
in the meanwhile, one of the Highlanders, assuming Waverley to be a
sympathizer, used his name and seal to start a mutiny in Waverley's
troop. For this reason Waverley was dismissed from his regiment for
desertion and treason. Indignant at this unjust treatment, Waverley
joined the rebellion, first, however, returning home in an attempt
to justify himself. On this trip he was arrested for treason, but was
rescued by the Highlanders when on his way to the dungeon of Stirling
Castle.
Waverley served in the war, and when the rebellion was crushed he
escaped, and later made his way to London. There his name was cleared
from the false charges, and a pardon obtained for both himself and
Baron Bradwardine. Flora's brother was executed, and she herself
retired to a convent at Paris. Waverley married Rose, the beautiful
daughter of Baron Bradwardine.
One of the most charming scenes in the story took place shortly after
Waverley met Flora at the home of her brother. Flora had promised to
sing a Gaelic song for him in one of her favorite haunts. One of the
attendants guided him to a beautiful waterfall in the neighborhood, and
there he saw Flora.
"Here, like one of those lovely forms which decorate the landscapes
of Poussin, Waverley found Flora gazing on the waterfall. Two paces
farther back stood Cathleen, holding a small Scottish harp, the use of
which had been taught to Flora by Rory Dall, one of the last harpers
of the western Highlands. The sun, now stooping in the west, gave a
rich and varied tinge to all the objects which surrounded Waverley,
and seemed to add more than human brilliancy to the full, expressive
darkness of Flora's eye, exalted the richness and purity of her
complexion, and enhanced the dignity and grace of her beautiful form.
Edward thought he had never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined a
figure of such exquisite and interesting loveliness. The wild beauty of
the retreat, bursting upon him as if by magic, augmented the mingled
feelings of delight and awe with which he approached her, like a fair
enchantress of Boiardo or Ariosto, by whose nod the scenery around
seemed to have been created--an Eden in the wilderness.
"Flora, like every beautiful woman, was conscious of her own power,
and pleased with its effects, which she could easily discern from
the respectful yet confused address of the young soldier. But as she
possessed excellent sense, she gave the romance of the scene and other
accidental circumstance full weight in appreciating the feelings with
which Waverley seemed obviously to be impressed; and unacquainted with
the fanciful and susceptible peculiarities of his character, considered
his homage as the passing tribute which a woman of even inferior charms
might have expected in such a situation. She therefore quietly led the
way to a spot at such a distance from the cascade that its sound should
rather accompany than interrupt that of her voice and instrument, and
sitting down upon a mossy fragment of rock, she took the harp from
Cathleen."
"Waverley" was the first of the world-famous series of romances
to which it gives the title. It was published anonymously in 1814.
Although the authorship of the series was generally accredited to
Scott, it was never formally acknowledged until business conditions
necessitated it in 1826.
[Illustration: MEG MERRILIES DIRECTS BERTRAM TO THE CAVE--"GUY
MANNERING"
COURTESY, THE PAGE COMPANY
FROM AN ETCHING BY C. O. MURRAY]
Guy Mannering
TWO
Guy Mannering, a young Englishman traveling through Scotland, stopped
one night at the home of the Laird of Ellangowan. When the Laird
learned that the young man had studied astrology, he begged him to
cast the horoscope of his son, who had been born that night. What was
Mannering's dismay to find that two catastrophes overhung the lad,
one at his fifth, and the other at his twenty-first year! He told the
father, however, that he might be warned; and later went his way.
The fortunes of the Laird of Ellangowan, Godfrey Bertram, waned
rapidly. In addition to this, his son, Harry, at the age of five, was
kidnapped. It was impossible to learn whether the child was alive or
dead. The boy's mother died from the shock; and some years later the
Laird himself followed her, leaving his daughter Lucy penniless.
In the meanwhile, Guy Mannering had become Colonel Mannering. He had
married and had a daughter, Julia. She had fallen in love with a young
officer, named Vanbeest Brown, who had served in India under Colonel
Mannering. The colonel objected to him as a suitor, because of the
obscurity of his birth.
When things were at their worst for Lucy Bertram, Colonel Mannering
returned to England. Accidentally hearing of the straits to which she
had been reduced, he at once invited her and her guardian to make their
home with him and his daughter Julia.
Captain Brown followed the Mannerings to England; and finally he
proved to be the long lost Harry Bertram, brother of | 2,190.946445 |
2023-11-16 18:53:35.0255980 | 7,435 | 11 |
Produced by Julio Reis and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
This work has no errata. The following typos were corrected:
* p. 82: chesnuts -> chestnuts
In this text-only version, italic was marked with _, and text in
small capitals was converted to uppercase.
[Illustration: Cover]
Olive Leaves
[Illustration: The Indian Chief.--_P._ 229.]
OLIVE LEAVES.
OR,
SKETCHES OF CHARACTER.
BY
MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.
GALL & INGLIS.
London:
25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
Edinburgh:
20 BERNARD TERRACE.
PREFACE.
An Olive Leaf was the first gift of the Earth after the Flood, to the
sole survivors of a buried race. It was borne by the Dove, spreading a
timid wing over the surging waters, so lately without a shore.
The plant thus honoured, as the love-token of a World, rising in
freshness from the wrecks of the Deluge, has long been a consecrated
emblem of peace. It then brought the joyful tidings to the voyagers in
the lonely Ark, of a home once more upon the green earth; and has since
cheered many a Christian heart, with the assurance that the bitter
waters of strife had abated.
These, my simple "Olive Leaves," would fain be love-tokens to you, sweet
young friends, who may chance to take them in your hand. Buds of the
olive and of the rose, are ye: pour forth the spirit of peace and love,
as ye unfold and ripen on the pilgrimage of life, that you may be
gathered at its close, where their bloom is eternal.
L. H. S.
_Hartford, Connecticut._
CONTENTS.
Page
PREFACE, 3
THE LOST AND FOUND, 9
CHILDHOOD'S PIETY, 18
FRANK LUDLOW, 19
VICTORY, 35
SILENT PEOPLE, 37
LAURA BRIDGMAN, 53
HUMBLE FRIENDS, 55
BUTTERFLY IN A SCHOOL-ROOM, 61
A BRAVE BOY, 63
MAY MORNING, 66
THE HUGUENOT GRANDFATHER'S TALE, 67
THE OLD WATCH, 86
ENTERTAINING BOOKS, 88
THE NEW YEAR, 91
CYRUS, 93
ROME AND ITS RULERS, 97
THE PLOUGHING OF THE SWORD, 105
THE GOOD AND BAD EMPEROR, 108
BONAPARTE AT ST. HELENA, 120
POLYCARP, 124
CHRISTMAS HYMN, 127
THE FRIVOLOUS KING, 128
TO A PUPIL LEAVING SCHOOL, 131
PIOUS PRINCES, 132
EVILS OF WAR, 138
THE LIBERATED FLY, 143
THE GOOD BROTHER AND SISTER, 146
THE WAITING CHILD, 155
THE ADOPTED NIECE, 156
THE ORPHAN, 160
THE ONLY SON, 163
LIFE, 175
A REMARKABLE CHILD, 177
THE DYING SUNDAY SCHOOL BOY, 187
THE PRECOCIOUS INFANT, 189
THE LAST ROSE BUD, 195
THE CHERUB'S WELCOME, 197
THE BABE, AND THE FORGET-ME-NOT, 199
TREATMENT OF ANIMALS, 201
THE TREMBLING EYELID, 207
PEACEFUL DISPOSITIONS, 213
JOHN AND JAMES WILLIAMS, 220
THE INDIAN KING, 227
THE DOVES, 232
THE WAR-SPIRIT, 236
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS, 238
HUGUENOT FORT, 243
I HAVE SEEN AN END OF ALL PERFECTION, 252
OLIVE LEAVES.
The Lost and Found.
I have something to say to the young, about the advantage, as well as
duty of obeying their parents. My story will be of an interesting boy,
by the name of Charles Morton. He had a pleasant temper, and almost
always wore a smile. He ardently loved his sister Caroline, who was
several years younger than himself; and whenever he came from school,
would ask for her, and take her in his arms, or guide her tottering
footsteps.
But Charles, with all his kindness of heart, had a sad fault. He would
sometimes disobey his parents, when he was out of their sight. He did
not remember that the Eye of God always saw him, both in darkness and in
light, and would take note of the sin that he committed, though his
parents knew it not. At a short distance from his home, was a beautiful
river, broad and deep. His parents had strictly charged him never to
venture in, and had explained to him the danger which a boy of eight
years old would incur, in a tide so strong. Notwithstanding this, he
would sometimes seek a spot where the banks, or the trees upon the
shore, concealed him, and take off his shoes, and step into the water.
He grew fond of wading, and would occasionally stay in the water a long
time. Then, he greatly desired to swim. He frequently saw larger boys
amusing themselves in this way, and longed to join them. But he feared
lest they might mention it to his father, and determined to go alone.
Here was the sin of the little boy, not only in continuing to disobey,
but in studying how to deceive his kind parents. One fine afternoon in
summer, school was dismissed at an earlier hour than usual. Now, thought
Charles, I can make a trial at swimming, and get home, before my mother
misses me. He sought a retired spot, where he had never seen his
companions go, and hastened to throw off his clothes, and plunge into
the water. He did not imagine that it was so deep there, and that the
current was so exceedingly swift. He struggled with all his might, but
was borne farther and farther from the shore. The sea was not a great
distance from the mouth of the river, and the tide was driving on
violently, and what could he do? Nothing, but to exhaust his feeble
strength, and then give up, and be carried onwards. He became weary of
beating the water with his feet and hands to no purpose, and his throat
was dry with crying, and so he floated along, like a poor, uprooted
weed. It was fearful to him to be hurried away so, with the waters
roaring in his ears. He gave up all hope of seeing his dear home again,
and dreaded the thought of being drowned, and devoured by monstrous
fishes. How he wished that he had not disobeyed his good parents; and he
earnestly prayed God to forgive him, and have mercy upon his soul.
At Charles Morton's home, his mother had prepared a bowl of bread and
milk for him, because he usually was hungry when he came from school.
At length she began to look from the window, and to feel uneasy. Little
Caroline crept to the door, and continually called "Tarle, Tarle!" But
when the sun disappeared, and Mr. Morton returned, and nothing had been
seen of the dear boy, they were greatly alarmed. They searched the
places where he had been accustomed to play, and questioned his
companions, but in vain. The neighbours collected, and attended the
father in pursuit of his lost son. What was their distress, at finding
his clothes in a remote recess, near the river's brink! They immediately
gave him up as drowned, and commenced the search for his body. There was
bitter mourning in his once happy home, that night. Many weeks elapsed,
ere little Caroline ceased calling for her "_dear Tarle_," or the sad
parents could be comforted. And it was remembered amid their affliction,
that the beloved child whom they had endeavoured to teach the fear of
God, had forgotten that All-seeing Eye, when he disobeyed his parents.
But while they were lamenting their lost son, he was not dead. While
faintly struggling on the river, he had been discovered, and taken up by
an Indian canoe. He had been borne by the swift current far from the
place where he first went into the water. And it was very long after he
was rescued, before he came to his senses, so as to give any connected
account of himself. Then, he was greatly shocked at finding himself in a
boat, with two huge Indians. He shrieked, and begged to be taken to his
father's house; but they paid no attention to his cries, and silently
proceeded on their voyage. They wrapped a blanket around him, because he
had no clothes, and offered him some parched corn, but he had no heart
to eat. By the rough tossing of the boat, he discovered that they were
upon the deep sea, and the broad moon rose high, and shone long, ere
they drew near to land. Stupefied with terror, one of the Indians
carried him in his arms to a rude hut, and gave him to his wife.
"What have you brought?" said she, as she loosened the blanket, and
discovered the dripping locks and shivering form of the affrighted
child.
"A white pappoose," answered the hoarse voice of the husband. Poor
Charles looked up with a cry of horror and despair. The woman regarded
him earnestly for a moment.
"He is like my son that I buried," said she, and she folded her dark
arms around him, and wept. She kindled a fire to warm him, and pressed
food upon him, but he was sick at heart. She laid him in the rude bed of
her dead child, and he sobbed himself into a deep, long sleep. It was
late in the morning when he opened his eyes. Who can describe his
distress! No kind parent to speak to him, no little sister to twine her
arms around his neck. Nothing but a dark hovel, and strange Indian
faces. The woman, with her husband and father, were the sole inhabitants
of the hut, and of this lone, sea-girt island. A dreadful feeling of
desolation came over him, and he laid down his head, and mourned
bitterly. The red-browed woman pitied him, and adopted him into her
heart, in place of the child she had lost. She brought him the coarse
garments of her dead son, and he was obliged to put them on, for he had
no other.
His heart sunk within him, when on going out of the door, he could see
no roof save the one where he had lodged. Some little rocky islands were
in sight, but none of them inhabited. He felt as if he was alone in the
world, and said, "This is the punishment of my disobedience."
Continually he was begging with tears, to be taken to his home, and the
men promised "when we go so far again in the boat, we will carry you."
But their manners were so stern, that he began to fear to urge them as
much as he wished. So every night, when he had retired to sleep, the
woman said to her husband, "We will keep him. He will be contented. His
beautiful blue eye is not so wild and strained, as when you brought him.
My heart yearns towards him, as it did over the one that shall wake no
more."
She took him with her to gather the rushes, with which she platted mats
and baskets, and showed him where the solitary bittern made her nest,
and how to trace the swift steps of the heron, as with whirring wing
half spread it hasted through the marshes to the sea. And she taught him
to dig roots, which contain the spirit of health, and to know the herbs
that bring sleep to the sick, and staunch the flowing blood: for she
trusted that in industry, and the simple knowledge of nature, he would
find content. At first, she brought him wild flowers, but she perceived
that they always made him weep, for he had been accustomed to gather
them for his little Caroline. So she passed them by, blooming in their
wild recesses, and instructed him how to climb the trees where the
grape-vine hung its airy clusters. And she gave him a choice bow and
arrow, ornamented with brilliant feathers, and encouraged him to take
aim at the birds that sang among the low branches. But he shrank back at
the thought of hurting the warbler, and she said silently,
"Surely, the babe of the white woman is not in spirit like his red
brother. He who sleeps in the grave was happy when he bent the bow and
followed his father to the chase."
Little Charles spent a part of each day in watching the sails, as they
glided along on the broad sea. For a long time, he would stand as near
the shore as possible, and make signs, and shout, hoping they might be
induced to come and take him to his home. But an object so diminutive,
attracted no attention, and the small island, with its neighbouring
group of rocks, looked so desolate, and the channel so obstructed and
dangerous, that vessels had no motive to approach it.
When the chill of early autumn was in the air, the Indian woman invited
him to assist her in gathering the golden ears of the maize, and in
separating them from their investing sheath. But he worked sorrowfully,
for he was ever thinking of his own dear home. Once the men permitted
him to accompany them, when they went on a short fishing excursion; but
he wept and implored so violently to be taken to his parents, that they
frowned, and forbade him to go any more in the boat. They told him, that
twice or thrice in the year they performed a long voyage, and went up
the river, to dispose of the articles of their manufacture and purchase
some necessary stores. They should go when spring returned, and would
then carry him to his parents. So the poor little boy perceived that he
must try to be patient and quiet, through the long, dreary winter, in an
Indian hut. The red-browed woman ever looked smilingly upon him, and
spoke to him with a sweet, fond tone. She wished him to call her mother,
and was always trying to promote his comfort. After Charles had obtained
the promise of her husband and father, to take him home in the spring,
his mind was more at rest. He worked diligently as his strength and
skill would permit, on the baskets, mats, and brooms, with which the
boat was to be freighted. He took pleasure in painting with the bright
colours which they obtained from plants, two baskets, which were
intended as presents for his mother and Caroline.
The Indian woman often entertained him with stories of her ancestors.
She spoke of their dexterity in the chase, of their valour in battle.
She described their war-dances, and the feathery lightness of their
canoes upon the wave. She told of the gravity of their chiefs, the
eloquence of their orators, the respect of the young men for those of
hoary hairs. She related instances of the firmness of their friendship,
and the terror of their revenge.
"Once the whole land was theirs, said she, and no white man dwelt in it,
or had discovered it. Now, our race are few and feeble, they are driven
away and perish. They leave their fathers' graves, and hide among the
forests. The forests fall before the axe of the white man, and they are
again driven out, we know not where. No voice asks after them. They fade
away like a mist, and are forgotten."
The little boy wept at the plaintive tone in which she spoke of the
sorrows of her people, and said, "_I_ will pity and love the Indians, as
long as I live." Sometimes, during the long storms of winter, he would
tell them of the Bible, in which he had loved to read, and would repeat
the hymns and chapters which he had learned at the Sabbath school. And
then he regretted that he had not exerted himself to learn more when it
was in his power, and that he had ever grieved his teachers. He found
that these Indians were not able to read, and said, "Oh that I had now
but _one_ of those books, which I used to prize so little when I was at
home, and had so many." They listened attentively to all that he said.
Sometimes he told them what he had learned of God, and added,
"He is a good God, and a God of truth, but I displeased him when I was
disobedient to my parents."
At length, Spring appeared. The heart of little Charles leaped for joy,
when he heard the sweet song of the earliest bird. Every morning he rose
early, and went forth to see if the grass had not become greener during
the night. Every hour, he desired to remind them of the long-treasured
promise. But he saw that the men looked grave if he was impatient, and
the brow of his Indian mother became each day more sad.
The appointed period arrived. The boat was laden with the products of
their industry. All was ready for departure. Charles wept when he was
about to take leave of his kind Indian nurse.
"I will go also," said she; and they made room for her in the boat. The
bright sun was rising gloriously in the east, as they left the desolate
island. Through the whole voyage she held the boy near her, or in her
arms, but spoke not. Birds were winging their way over the blue sea,
and, after they entered the river, poured forth the clearest melodies
from shore and tree, but still she spoke not. There seemed a sorrow at
her breast, which made her lip tremble, yet her eye was tearless.
Charles refrained to utter the joy which swelled in his bosom, for he
saw she was unhappy. He put his arm round her neck, and leaned his head
on her shoulder. As evening approached, they drew near the spot, where
she understood she must part from him. Then Charles said eagerly to her,
"Oh, go home with me to my father's house. Yes, yes, come all of you
with me, my dear, good people, that all of us may thank you together for
having saved my life."
"No," she answered sorrowfully: "I could not bear to see thy mother fold
thee in her arms, and to know that thou wert mine no more. Since thou
hast told me of thy God, and that he listened to prayer, my prayer has
been lifted up to Him night and day, that thy heart might find rest in
an Indian home. But this is over. Henceforth, my path and my soul are
desolate. Yet go thy way, to thy mother, that she may have joy when she
rises up in the morning, and at night goes to rest."
Her tears fell down like rain, as she embraced him, and they lifted him
upon the bank. And eager as he was to meet his parents, and his beloved
sister, he lingered to watch the boat as it glided away. He saw that she
raised not her head, nor uncovered her face. He remembered her long and
true kindness, and asked God to bless and reward her, as he hastened
over the well known space that divided him from his native village.
His heart beat so thick as almost to suffocate him, when he saw his
father's roof. It was twilight, and the trees where he used to gather
apples, were in full and fragrant bloom. Half breathless, he rushed in
at the door. His father was reading in the parlour, and rose coldly to
meet him. So changed was his person, and dress, that he did not know his
son. But the mother shrieked. She knew the blue eye, that no misery of
garb could change. She sprang to embrace him, and fainted. It was a keen
anguish to him, that his mother thus should suffer. Little Caroline
clung around his neck, and as he kissed her, he whispered "Remember, God
sees, and punishes the disobedient." His pale mother lifted up her head,
and drew him from his father's arms, upon the bed, beside her. "Father,
Mother," said the delighted boy, "forgive me." They both assured him of
their love, and his father looking upward said, "My God, I thank thee!
for this my son was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is
found."
Childhood's Piety.
If the meek faith that Jesus taught,
Admission fail to gain
Neath domes with wealth and splendour fraught,
Where dwell a haughty train,
Turn to the humble hearth and see
The Mother's tender care,
Luring the nursling on her knee
To link the words of prayer:
Or to the little bed, where kneels
The child with heaven-raised eye,
And all its guileless soul reveals
To Him who rules the sky;
Where the young babe's first lispings keep
So bright the parents tear,
The "_Now, I lay me down to sleep_,"
That angels love to hear.
Frank Ludlow.
"It is time Frank and Edward were at home," said Mrs. Ludlow. So she
stirred and replenished the fire, for it was a cold winter's evening.
"Mother, you gave them liberty to stay and play after school," said
little Eliza.
"Yes, my daughter, but the time is expired. I wish my children to come
home at the appointed time, as well as to obey me in all other things.
The stars are already shining, and they are not allowed to stay out so
late."
"Dear mother, I think I hear their voices now." Little Eliza climbed
into a chair, and drawing aside the window-curtain, said joyfully, "O
yes, they are just coming into the piazza."
Mrs. Ludlow told her to go to the kitchen, and see that the bread was
toasted nice and warm, for their bowls of milk which had been some time
ready.
Frank and Edward Ludlow were fine boys, of eleven and nine years old.
They returned in high spirits, from their sport on the frozen pond. They
hung up their skates in the proper place, and then hastened to kiss
their mother.
"We have stayed longer at play than we ought, my dear mother," said
Edward.
"You are nearly an hour beyond the time," said Mrs. Ludlow.
"Edward reminded me twice," said Frank, "that we ought to go home. But
O, it was such excellent skating, that I could not help going round the
pond a few times more. We left all the boys there when we came away. The
next time, we will try to be as true as the town-clock. And it is not
Edward's fault now, mother."
"My sons, I always expect you to leave your sports, at the time that I
appoint. I know that you do not intend to disobey, or to give me
anxiety. But you must take pains to be punctual. When you become men, it
will be of great importance that you observe your engagements. Unless
you perform what is expected of you, at the proper time, people will
cease to have confidence in you."
The boys promised to be punctual and obedient, and their mother assured
them, that they were not often forgetful of these important duties.
Eliza came in with the bread nicely toasted, for their supper.
"What a good little one, to be thinking of her brothers, when they are
away. Come, sweet sister, sit between us."
Eliza felt very happy, when her brothers each gave her a kiss, and she
looked up in their faces, with a sweet smile.
The evening meal was a pleasant one. The mother and her children talked
cheerfully together. Each had some little agreeable circumstance to
relate, and they felt how happy it is for a family to live in love.
After supper, books and maps were laid on the table, and Mrs. Ludlow
said,
"Come boys, you go to school every day, and your sister does not. It is
but fair that you should teach her something. First examine her in the
lessons she has learned with me, and then you may add some gift of
knowledge from your own store."
So Frank overlooked her geography, and asked her a few questions on the
map; and Edward explained to her a little arithmetic, and told a story
from the history of England, with which she was much pleased. Soon she
grew sleepy, and kissing her brothers, wished them an affectionate
good-night. Her mother went with her, to see her laid comfortably in
bed, and to hear her repeat her evening hymns, and thank her Father in
heaven, for his care of her through the day.
When Mrs. Ludlow returned to the parlour, she found her sons busily
employed in studying their lessons for the following day. She sat down
beside them with her work, and when they now and then looked up from
their books, they saw that their diligence was rewarded by her approving
eye.
When they had completed their studies, they replaced the books which
they had used, in the bookcase, and drew their chairs nearer to the
fire. The kind mother joined them, with a basket of fruit, and while
they partook of it, they had the following conversation.
_Mrs. Ludlow._ "I should like to hear, my dear boys, more of what you
have learned to-day."
_Frank._ "I have been much pleased with a book that I borrowed of one of
the boys. Indeed, I have hardly thought of any thing else. I must
confess that I put it inside of my geography, and read it while the
master thought I was studying."
_Mrs. Ludlow._ "I am truly sorry, Frank, that you should be willing to
deceive. What are called _boy's tricks_, too often lead to falsehood,
and end in disgrace. On this occasion you cheated yourself also. You
lost the knowledge which you might have gained, for the sake of what, I
suppose, was only some book of amusement."
_Frank._ "Mother, it was the life of Charles the XII. of Sweden. You
know that he was the bravest soldier of his times. He beat the king of
Denmark, when he was only eighteen years old. Then he defeated the
Russians, at the battle of Narva, though they had 80,000 soldiers, and
he had not a quarter of that number."
_Mrs. Ludlow._ "How did he die?"
_Frank._ "He went to make war in Norway. It was a terribly severe
winter, but he feared no hardship. The cold was so great, that his
sentinels were often found frozen to death at their posts. He was
besieging a town called Frederickshall. It was about the middle of
December. He gave orders that they should continue to work on the
trenches, though the feet of the soldiers were benumbed, and their hands
froze to the tools. He got up very early one morning, to see if they
were at their work. The stars shone clear and bright on the snow that
covered every thing. Sometimes a firing was heard from the enemy. But he
was too courageous to mind that. Suddenly, a cannon-shot struck him, and
he fell. When they took him up, his forehead was beat in, but his right
hand still strongly grasped the sword. Mother, was not that dying like a
brave man?"
_Mrs. Ludlow._ "I should think there was more of rashness than bravery
in thus exposing himself, for no better reason. Do you not feel that it
was cruel to force his soldiers to such labours in that dreadful
climate, and to make war when it was not necessary? The historians say
that he undertook it, only to fill up an interval of time, until he
could be prepared for his great campaign in Poland. So, to amuse his
restless mind, he was willing to destroy his own soldiers, willing to
see even his most faithful friends frozen every morning into statues.
Edward, tell me what you remember."
_Edward._ "My lesson in the history of Rome, was the character of
Antoninus Pius. He was one of the best of the Roman Emperors. While he
was young, he paid great respect to the aged, and when he grew rich he
gave liberally to the poor. He greatly disliked war. He said he had
'rather save the life of one subject, than destroy a thousand enemies.'
Rome was prosperous and happy, under his government. He reigned 22
years, and died, with many friends surrounding his bed, at the age of
74."
_Mrs. Ludlow._ "Was he not beloved by the people whom he ruled? I have
read that they all mourned at his death, as if they had lost a father.
Was it not better to be thus lamented, than to be remembered only by the
numbers he had slain, and the miseries he had caused?"
_Frank._ "But mother, the glory of Charles the XII. of Sweden, was
certainly greater than that of a quiet old man, who, I dare say, was
afraid to fight. Antoninus Pius was clever enough, but you cannot deny
that Alexander, and Caesar, and Bonaparte, had far greater talents. They
will be called heroes and praised, as long as the world stands."
_Mrs. Ludlow._ "My dear children, those talents should be most admired,
which produce the greatest good. That fame is the highest, which best
agrees with our duty to God and man. Do not be dazzled by the false
glory that surrounds the hero. Consider it your glory to live in peace,
and to make others happy. Believe me, when you come to your death-beds,
and oh, how soon will that be, for the longest life is short, it will
give you more comfort to reflect that you have healed one broken heart,
given one poor child the means of education, or sent to one heathen the
book of salvation, than that you lifted your hand to destroy your
fellow-creatures, and wrung forth the tears of widows and of orphans."
The hour of rest had come, and the mother opened the large family Bible,
that they might together remember and thank Him, who had preserved them
through the day. When Frank and Edward took leave of her for the night,
they were grieved to see that there were tears in her eyes. They
lingered by her side, hoping she would tell them if any thing had
troubled her. But she only said, "My sons, my dear sons, before you
sleep, pray to God for a heart to love peace."
After they had retired, Frank said to his brother,
"I cannot feel that it is wrong to be a soldier. Was not our father one?
I shall never forget the fine stories he used to tell me about battles,
when I was almost a baby. I remember that I used to climb up on his
knee, and put my face close to his. Then I used to dream of prancing
horses, and glittering swords, and sounding trumpets, and wake up and
wish I was a soldier. Indeed, Edward, I wish so now. But I cannot tell
dear mother what is in my heart, for it would grieve her."
"No, no, don't tell her so, dear Frank, and pray, never be a soldier. I
have heard her say, that father's ill health, and most of his troubles,
came from the life that he led in camps. He said on his death-bed, that
if he could live his youth over again, he would be a meek follower of
the Saviour, and not a man of blood."
"Edward, our father was engaged in the war of the Revolution, without
which we should all have been slaves. Do you pretend to say that it was
not a holy war?"
"I pretend to say nothing, brother, only what the Bible says, Render to
no man evil for evil, but follow after the things that make for peace."
The boys had frequent conversations on the subject of war and peace.
Their opinions still continued to differ. Their love for their mother,
prevented their holding these discourses often in her presence; for they
perceived that Frank's admiration of martial renown gave her increased
pain. She devoted her life to the education and happiness of her
children. She secured for them every opportunity in her power, for the
acquisition of useful knowledge, and both by precept and example urged
them to add to their "knowledge, temperance, and to temperance,
brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness, charity."
This little family were models of kindness and affection among
themselves. Each strove to make the others happy. Their fire-side was
always cheerful, and the summer evening walks which the mother took with
her children were sources both | 2,191.045638 |
2023-11-16 18:53:35.1256030 | 6,233 | 7 |
Produced by Adrian Mastronardi, Eric Skeet, The Philatelic
Digital Library Project at http://www.tpdlp.net and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE ROYAL MAIL
[Illustration: MAIL-COACH ACCIDENT NEAR ELVANFOOT, LANARKSHIRE.]
THE ROYAL MAIL
ITS CURIOSITIES AND ROMANCE
BY
JAMES WILSON HYDE
SUPERINTENDENT IN THE GENERAL POST-OFFICE,
EDINBURGH
THIRD EDITION
LONDON
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL AND CO.
MDCCCLXXXIX.
_All Rights reserved._
NOTE.--It is of melancholy interest that Mr Fawcett's death occurred
within a month from the date on which he accepted the following
Dedication, and before the issue of the Work.
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
HENRY FAWCETT, M. P.
HER MAJESTY'S POSTMASTER-GENERAL,
THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE, BY PERMISSION,
RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.
PREFACE TO THIRD EDITION.
The second edition of 'The Royal Mail' having been sold out some
eighteen months ago, and being still in demand, the Author has arranged
for the publication of a further edition. Some additional particulars of
an interesting kind have been incorporated in the work; and these,
together with a number of fresh illustrations, should render 'The Royal
Mail' still more attractive than hitherto.
The modern statistics have not been brought down to date; and it will be
understood that these, and other matters (such as the circulation of
letters), which are subject to change, remain in the work as set forth
in the first edition.
EDINBURGH, _February 1889_.
PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION.
The favour with which 'The Royal Mail' has been received by the public,
as evinced by the rapid sale of the first issue, has induced the Author
to arrange for the publication of a second edition. This edition has
been revised and slightly enlarged; the new matter consisting of two
additional illustrations, contributions to the chapters on "Mail
Packets," "How Letters are Lost," and "Singular Coincidences," and a
fresh chapter on the subject of Postmasters.
The Author ventures to hope that the generous appreciation which has
been accorded to the first edition may be extended to the work in its
revised form.
EDINBURGH, _June 1885_.
INTRODUCTION.
Of all institutions of modern times, there is, perhaps, none so
pre-eminently a people's institution as is the Post-office. Not only
does it carry letters and newspapers everywhere, both within and without
the kingdom, but it is the transmitter of messages by telegraph, a vast
banker for the savings of the working classes, an insurer of lives, a
carrier of parcels, and a distributor of various kinds of Government
licences. Its services are claimed exclusively or mainly by no one
class; the rich, the poor, the educated, and the illiterate, and indeed,
the young as well as the old,--all have dealings with the Post-office.
Yet it may seem strange that an institution which is familiar by its
operations to all classes alike, should be so little known by its
internal management and organisation. A few persons, no doubt, have been
privileged to see the interior working of some important Post-office,
but it is the bare truth to say that _the people_ know nothing of what
goes on within the doors of that ubiquitous establishment. When it is
remembered that the metropolitan offices of London, Edinburgh, and
Dublin have to maintain touch with every petty office and every one of
their servants scattered throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland; that
discipline has to be exercised everywhere; that a system of accounting
must necessarily be maintained, reaching to the remotest corners; and
that the whole threads have to be gathered up and made answerable to the
great head, which is London,--some vague idea may be formed of what must
come within the view of whoever pretends to a knowledge of Post-office
work. But intimately connected with that which was the original work of
the Post-office, and is still the main work--the conveyance of
letters--there is the subject of circulation, the simple yet complex
scheme under which letters flow from each individual centre to every
other part of the country. Circulation as a system is the outcome of
planning, devising, and scheming by many heads during a long series of
years--its object, of course, being to bring letters to their
destinations in the shortest possible time. So intricate and delicate is
the fabric, that by interference an unskilled hand could not fail to
produce an effect upon the structure analogous to that which would
certainly follow any rude treatment applied to a house built of cards.
These various subjects, especially when they have become settled into
the routine state, might be considered as affording a poor soil for the
growth of anything of interest--that is, of curious interest--apart from
that which duty calls upon a man to find in his proper work. Yet the
Post-office is not without its veins of humour, though the metal to be
extracted may perhaps be scanty as compared with the vast extent of the
mine from which it has to be taken.
The compiler of the following pages has held an appointment in the
Post-office for a period of twenty-five years--the best, perhaps, of his
life; and during that term it has been his practice to note and collect
facts connected with the Department whenever they appeared of a curious,
interesting, or amusing character. While making use of such notes in
connection with this work, he has had recourse to the Post-office
Annual Reports, to old official documents, to books on various subjects,
and to newspapers, all of which have been laid under contribution to
furnish material for these pages.
The work is in no sense a historical work: it deals with the lighter
features of a plain, matter-of-fact department; and though some of the
incidents mentioned may be deemed of trivial account, they will be
found, it is thought, to have at least a curious or amusing side.
The author desires to mention that he has received valuable help from
several of his brother officers, who have supplied him with facts or
anecdotes; and to these, as well as to gentlemen who have lent him books
or given him access to files of old newspapers, he expresses his
grateful acknowledgments. He also tenders his sincere and respectful
thanks to the Postmaster-General for permission granted to make extracts
from official papers.
The Post-office renders an unpretending yet most important service to
commerce and to society; and it will be a source of deep gratification
to the author if what he has written should inspire in the reader a new
and unexpected interest in "the hundred-handed giant who keeps up the
intercourse between the different parts of the country, and wafts a sigh
from Indus to the Pole."
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. OLD ROADS, 1
II. POSTBOYS, 11
III. STAGE AND MAIL COACHES, 24
IV. FOOT-POSTS, 61
V. MAIL-PACKETS, 68
VI. SHIPWRECKED MAILS, 82
VII. AMOUNT OF WORK, 84
VIII. GROWTH OF CERTAIN POST-OFFICES, 95
IX. CLAIMS FOR POST-OFFICE SERVICE, 104
X. THE TRAVELLING POST-OFFICE, 116
XI. SORTERS AND CIRCULATION, 124
XII. PIGEON-POST, 135
XIII. ABUSE OF THE FRANKING PRIVILEGE,
AND OTHER PETTY FRAUDS, 140
XIV. STRANGE ADDRESSES, 153
XV. POST-OFFICE ROBBERIES, 170
XVI. TELEGRAPHIC BLUNDERS, 200
XVII. HOW LETTERS ARE LOST, 204
XVIII. ODD COMPLAINTS, 239
XIX. CURIOUS LETTERS ADDRESSED TO THE
POST-OFFICE, 245
XX. SINGULAR COINCIDENCES, 262
XXI. SAVINGS-BANK CURIOSITIES, 269
XXII. REPLIES TO MEDICAL INQUIRIES, 275
XXIII. VARIOUS, 277
XXIV. ABOUT POSTMASTERS, 292
XXV. RED TAPE, 303
ILLUSTRATIONS.
MAIL-COACH ACCIDENT AT ELVANFOOT, _Frontispiece_
CAUTION TO POSTBOYS, _Page_ 19
ROTHBURY AND MORPETH MAIL-DRIVER, " 23
EWENNY BRIDGE OUTRAGE--NOTICE OF, " 37
HOLYHEAD AND CHESTER MAILS SNOWED UP
NEAR DUNSTABLE--26TH DEC. 1836. (_From
an old Print_) " 39
DEVONPORT MAIL-COACH FORCING ITS WAY
THROUGH A SNOWDRIFT NEAR AMESBURY--27TH
DEC. 1836. (_From an old Print_), " 43
NOCTURNAL REFRESHMENT, " 55
ST MARTIN'S-LE-GRAND IN THE COACHING DAYS, " 59
'LADY HOBART' MAIL PACKET, " 76
POSTBOY JACK, " 78
STEAMSHIP 'AMERICA,' " 80
TRAVELLING POST-OFFICE, " 117
DELIVERING ARM, SHOWING HOW THE POUCH IS
SUSPENDED, " 121
CAUTION AGAINST LETTER CARRYING, " 147
STRANGE ADDRESSES, " 158-169
FALSTAFF AS A HIGHWAYMAN, " 172
GRIZEL COCHRANE AND POSTBOY, " 174
SELBY MAIL-BAG, " 182
LETTER-BOX TAKEN POSSESSION OF BY TOMTITS, " 211
THE MULREADY ENVELOPE, " 285
INTERIOR OF AN OLD POST-OFFICE, " 295
THE POSTMISTRESS OF WATFORD, " 299
FORM OF POSTMASTER'S APPOINTMENT, " 301
THE ROYAL MAIL.
CHAPTER I.
OLD ROADS.
The present generation, who are accustomed to see the streets of our
cities paved with wood or stone, or otherwise so laid out as to provide
a hard and even surface suited to the locomotion of wheeled vehicles, or
who by business or pleasure have been led to journey over the principal
highways intersecting the kingdom in every direction, can form no idea
of the state of the roads in this country during the earlier years of
the Post-office--or even in times comparatively recent--unless their
reading has led them to the perusal of accounts written by travellers of
the periods we now refer to. The highways of the present day, radiating
from London and the other large centres of industry, and extending their
arms to every corner of the land, are wellnigh perfect in their kind,
and present a picture of careful and efficient maintenance. Whether we
look, for example, at the great north road leading from London, the
Carlisle to Glasgow road, or the Highland road passing through Dunkeld,
we find the roads have certain features in common: a broad hard roadway
for vehicles; a neatly kept footpath where required; limits strictly
defined by trim hedges, stone walls, or palings; and means provided for
carrying off surface-water. The picture will, of course, vary as the
traveller proceeds, flat country alternating with undulating country,
and wood or moorland with cultivated fields; but the chief
characteristics remain the same, constituting the roads as worthy of the
age we live in.
How the people managed to get from place to place before the Post-office
had a history, or indeed for long after the birth of that institution,
it is hard to conceive. Then, the roads were little better than tracks
worn out of the surface of the virgin land,--proceeding in some cases in
a manner approaching to a right line, over hills, down valleys, through
forests, and the like; in others following the natural features of the
country, but giving evidence that they had never been systematically
made, being rather the outcome of a mere habit of travel, just as
sheep-tracks are produced on a mountain-side. Such roads in winter
weather, or in rainy seasons, became terrible to the traveller: yet the
only repairs that were vouchsafed consisted in filling up some of the
larger holes with rude stones; and when this method of keeping up
repairs no longer availed, another track was formed by bringing under
foot a fresh strip of the adjoining land (generally unenclosed), and
thus creating a wholly new road in place of the old one. Smiles, in his
'Lives of the Engineers,' thus describes certain of the English roads:
"In some of the older settled districts of England, the old roads are
still to be traced in the hollow ways or lanes, which are met with, in
some places, eight and ten feet deep. Horse-tracks in summer and
rivulets in winter, the earth became gradually worn into these deep
furrows, many of which in Wilts, Somerset, and Devon, represent the
tracks of roads as old as, if not older than, the Conquest." And again:
"Similar roads existed until recently in the immediate neighbourhood of
Birmingham, long the centre of considerable traffic. The sandy soil was
sawn through, as it were, by generation after generation of human feet,
and by pack-horses, helped by the rains, until in some places the tracks
were as much as from twelve to fourteen yards deep." In the year 1690,
Chancellor Cowper, who was then a barrister on circuit, thus wrote to
his wife: "The Sussex ways are bad and ruinous beyond imagination. I vow
'tis melancholy consideration that mankind will inhabit such a heap of
dirt for a poor livelihood. The country is a sink of about fourteen
miles broad, which receives all the water that falls from two long
ranges of hills on both sides of it, and not being furnished with
convenient draining, is kept moist and soft by the water till the middle
of a dry summer, which is only able to make it tolerable to ride for a
short time."
In Scotland, about the same time, the roads were no better. The first
four miles out of Edinburgh, on the road towards London, were described
in the Privy Council Record of 1680 to have been in so wretched a state
that passengers were in danger of their lives, "either by their coaches
overturning, their horse falling, their carts breaking, their loads
casting and horse stumbling, the poor people with the burdens on their
backs sorely grieved and discouraged; moreover, strangers do often
exclaim thereat." Nor does there appear to have been any considerable
improvement in the state of the roads in the northern kingdom for long
afterwards, as we find that in 1750, according to Lang's 'Historical
Summary of the Post-office in Scotland,' "the channel of the river Gala,
which ran for some distance parallel with the road, was, when not
flooded, the track chosen as the most level and the easiest to travel
in." The common carrier from Edinburgh to Selkirk, a distance of
thirty-eight miles, required a fortnight for the journey, going and
returning; and the stage-coach from Edinburgh to Glasgow took a day and
a half for the journey. A Yorkshire squire, Thomas Kirke, who travelled
in Scotland in 1679, gave a better account of the roads; but his opinion
may have been merely relative, for travelling showmen to this day prefer
the roads in the south of Scotland to those in the north of England, on
account of their greater hardness; and this derives, no doubt, from the
more adamantine material used in the repair of the Scotch roads. This
traveller wrote: "The highways in Scotland are tolerably good, which is
the greatest comfort a traveller meets with amongst them. The Scotch
gentry generally travel from one friend's house to another; so seldom
require a change-house (inn). Their way is to hire a horse and a man for
twopence a mile; they ride on the horse thirty or forty miles a-day, and
the man who is his guide foots it beside him, and carries his luggage to
boot." Another visitor to Scotland in 1702, named Morer, thus describes
the roads: "The truth is, the roads will hardly allow these
conveniences" (meaning stage-coaches, which did not as yet exist in
Scotland), "which is the reason that the gentry, men and women, choose
rather to use their horses. However, their great men often travel with
coach-and-six, but with so little caution, that, besides their other
attendance, they have a lusty running footman on each side of the coach,
to manage and keep it up in rough places."[1] It might be supposed that
the roads leading from Windsor, where one of the royal residences was,
would have been kept in a tolerable state, so as to secure the Sovereign
some comfort in travelling. But their condition seems to have been no
better than that of roads elsewhere. An account of a journey made in
1703 by Prince George of Denmark, the husband of Queen Anne, from
Windsor to Petworth, runs as follows:--"The length of way was only forty
miles, but fourteen hours were consumed in traversing it; while almost
every mile was signalised by the overturn of a carriage, or its
temporary swamping in the mire. Even the royal chariot would have fared
no better than the rest had it not been for the relays of peasants who
poised and kept it erect by strength of arm, and shouldered it forward
the last nine miles, in which tedious operation six good hours were
consumed."
[1] In the north of Scotland a similar account was given of the
roads there about the year 1730. The writer of 'Letters from a
Gentleman in the North of Scotland' stated that "the Highlands
are but little known even to the inhabitants of the low country
of Scotland, for they have ever dreaded the difficulties and
dangers of travelling among the mountains; and when some
extraordinary occasion has obliged any one of them to such a
progress, he has, generally speaking, made his testament before
he set out, as though he were entering upon a long and dangerous
sea-voyage, wherein it was very doubtful if he should ever
return."
Yet later still, and in close proximity to London, a royal party had a
most unsatisfactory journey, owing to the miserable state of the roads.
It happened that in 1727 George II. and Queen Caroline were proceeding
from the palace at Kew to that at St James's, when they had to spend a
whole night upon the way; and between Hammersmith and Fulham they were
overturned, the royal occupants of the coach being landed in a quagmire.
A year or two after this, Lord Hervey wrote that "the road between this
place [Kensington] and London is grown so infamously bad, that we live
here in the same solitude as we would do if cast on a rock in the middle
of the ocean; and all the Londoners tell us that there is between them
and us an impassable gulf of mud."
No part of the country could boast of a satisfactory condition of the
roads, these being everywhere in the same neglected and wretched state,
and travellers who had the misfortune to use them have recorded their
ideas on the subject in no gentle terms. Arthur Young, who travelled
much in the middle of last century, thus alludes to a road in Essex: "Of
all the cursed roads that ever disgraced this kingdom in the very ages
of barbarism, none ever equalled that from Billericay to the King's Head
at Tilbury. It is for near twelve miles so narrow that a mouse cannot
pass by any carriage. I saw a fellow creep under his waggon to assist me
to lift, if possible, my chaise over a hedge. To add to all the infamous
circumstances which concur to plague a traveller, I must not forget the
eternally meeting with chalk-waggons, themselves frequently stuck fast,
till a collection of them are in the same situation, and twenty or
thirty horses may be tacked to each to draw them out one by one." In a
somewhat similar way he describes the road from Bury to Sudbury in
Suffolk. Here, he says, "I was forced to move as slow in it as in any
unmended lane in Wales. For ponds of liquid dirt, and a scattering of
loose flints just sufficient to lame every horse that moves near them,
with the addition of cutting vile grips across the road under the
pretence of letting the water off, but without effect, altogether render
at least twelve out of these sixteen miles as infamous a turnpike as
ever was beheld." In one of his journeys, Young proceeded to the north
by the great north road, thence making branch trips to the various
agricultural districts. Of many of these roads he gives a sorry account.
Thus: "To Wakefield, indifferent; through the town of Wakefield so bad
that it ought to be indicted. To Castle Howard, infamous; I was near
being swallowed up in a slough. From Newton to Stokesley in Cleveland,
execrably bad. You are obliged to cross the moors they call Black
Hambledon, over which the road runs in narrow hollows that admit a
south-country chaise with such difficulty, that I reckon this part of
the journey made at the hazard of my neck. The going down into Cleveland
is beyond all description terrible; for you go through such steep,
rough, narrow, rocky precipices, that I would sincerely advise any
friend to go a hundred miles to escape it. The name of this path is very
judicious, _Scarthneck_--that is, _Scare-Nick_, or frighten the devil.
"From Richmond to Darlington, part of the great north road; execrably
broke into holes like an old pavement, sufficient to dislocate one's
bones."
"To Morpeth; a pavement a mile or two out of Newcastle; all the rest
_vile_.
"To Carlisle; cut up by innumerable little paltry one-horse carts."
One more instance from the pen of Young and we leave him. In the course
of one of his journeys, he makes his way into Wales, where he finds his
_bete noire_ in the roads, and freely expresses himself thereupon in his
usual forcible style: "But, my dear sir, what am I to say of the roads
in this country? the turnpikes, as they have the assurance to call them,
and the hardiness to make one pay for? From Chepstow to the half-way
house between Newport and Cardiff they continue mere rocky lanes, full
of hugeous stones as big as one's horse, and abominable holes. The first
six miles from Newport they were so detestable, and without either
direction-posts or milestones, that I could not well persuade myself I
was on the turnpike, but had mistook the road, and therefore asked every
one I met, who answered me, to my astonishment, 'Ya-as.' Whatever
business carries you into this country, avoid it, at least till they
have good roads; if they were good, travelling would be very pleasant."
The necessity for a better class of road cannot but have forced itself
upon the Government of the country from time to time, if not for the
benefit of travellers and to encourage trade, at any rate to secure a
rapid movement of troops in times of disturbance or rebellion; yet we
find the state of streets in the metropolis, and roads in the country,
as in 1750, thus described in Blackie's 'Comprehensive History of
England': "When the only public approaches to Parliament were King
Street and Union Street, these were so wretchedly paved, that when the
King went in state to the House, the ruts had to be filled up with
bundles of fagots to allow the royal coach a safe transit. While the art
of street-paving was thus so imperfect, that of road-making was equally
defective, so that the country visitor to the metropolis, and its
dangers of coach-driving, had generally a sufficient preparative for the
worst during his journey to town. This may easily be understood from the
fact that, so late as 1754, few turnpikes were to be seen after leaving
the vicinity of London, for 200 miles together, although it had been
made felony to pull them down. These roads, indeed, were merely the
produce of compulsory pauper labour, contributed by the different
parishes; and, like all such work, it was performed in a very
perfunctory manner."
The same authority gives a further picture of the state of the highways
some twenty years later, when apparently little improvement had taken
place in their condition: "Notwithstanding the numerous Acts of
Parliament, of which no less than 452 were emitted between the years
1760 and 1764, for the improvement of the principal highways, they still
continued narrow, darkened with trees, and intersected with ruts and
miry swamps, through which the progress of a waggon was a work of
difficulty and danger. One of these--the turnpike road from Preston to
Wigan--is thus described by an angry tourist in 1770, and the picture
seems to have been too generally realised over the whole kingdom: "To
look over a map, and perceive that it is a principal one, not only to
some towns, but even whole counties, one would naturally conclude it to
be at least decent; but let me most seriously caution all travellers who
may accidentally purpose to travel this terrible country, to avoid it as
they would the devil; for a thousand to one but they break their necks
or their limbs by overthrows or breakings down. They will here meet with
ruts, which I actually measured, four feet deep, and floating with mud
only from a wet summer; what, therefore, must they be after a winter?
The only mending it receives is the tumbling in some loose stones, which
serve no other purpose but jolting a carriage in the most intolerable
manner. These are not merely opinions, but facts; for I actually passed
three carts broken down in these eighteen miles, of execrable memory."
Obvious as it must be to every mind capable of apprehending ordinary
matters in the present day, that the opening up of the country by the
laying down of good roads would encourage trade, promote social
intercourse, knit together the whole kingdom, and render its government
the more easy and effective; yet it is a fact that the improvement of
the roads in various parts of the country, both in England and Scotland,
was stoutly opposed by the people, even in certain places entailing riot
and bloodshed. So strong were the prejudices against the improved roads,
that the country people would not use them after being made. This bias
may perhaps have partaken largely of that unreasoning conservatism which
is always prone to pronounce that that which _is_ is best, and opposes
change on principle--an example of which is afforded by the conduct of
the driver of the Marlborough coach, who, when the new Bath road was
opened, obstinately refused to travel by it, and stuck to | 2,191.145643 |
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INSTRUCTIONS
FOR OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED
OFFICERS OF CAVALRY,
ON
OUTPOST DUTY;
BY
LIEUT.-COLONEL VON ARENTSCHILDT,
First Hussars King's German Legion:
WITH
AN ABRIDGMENT OF THEM
BY
LIEUT.-COLONEL THE HON. F. PONSONBY,
Twelfth Light Dragoons.
J.W. RANDOLPH:
121 MAIN STREET, RICHMOND, VA.
1861.
THIS
VALUABLE DIGEST
OF
INSTRUCTIONS FOR OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED
OFFICERS OF CAVALRY ON OUTPOST DUTY,
IS REPRINTED FROM THE LONDON EDITION
BY ORDER OF
BRIG'R GENERAL PHILIP ST. GEO. COCKE,
WHILST COMMANDING POTOMAC MILITARY DEPARTMENT
OF VIRGINIA,
AND DEDICATED BY HIM TO
CAPTAIN LAY AND HIS "POWHATAN TROOP"
OF CAVALRY.
* * * * *
THIS DIGEST IS EARNESTLY COMMENDED TO THE ATTENTION
OF THE OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS
OF CAVALRY OF VIRGINIA, AND OF THE
CONFEDERATE STATES.
OUTPOST DUTY.
I.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED
OFFICERS:
BY LIEUT.-COLONEL VON ARENTSCHILDT.
II.
AN ABRIDGMENT OF THE SAME:
BY LIEUTENANT-COLONEL THE HON. F. PONSONBY.
LIEUTENANT-COLONEL VON ARENTSCHILDT'S
INSTRUCTIONS ON
OUTPOST DUTY.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS ON OUTPOST
DUTY.
I. ON THE CONDUCT TO BE HELD BY AN OFFICER, OR NON-COMMISSIONED
OFFICER, ON PICQUET.
SECTION I. PARADING THE PICQUET.
The Commanding Officer of a Picquet, as soon as the same has been
given up to him, should take care to have the names of his men written
down, as well as the Regiment and Troop they belong to; inspect their
ammunition and fire arms; and order them to load. He likewise should
inquire if the men are provided with provisions and forage, and in
case they are not, it must be reported to the Regiment, in order that
supplies may be sent after them. Inquiries are likewise to be made
where the reports are to be sent to.
SECTION II.
MARCHING FOR HIS DESTINATION.
On the march to the spot where the Picquet is to be placed, the
Officer must pay great attention in examining the country, and
particularly observe the places where he would make a stand in case
the Picquet should be attacked by the Enemy: for instance, behind a
bridge, a ravine, between bogs, &c., in order to keep off the enemy as
long as possible. This is of the utmost importance to give the Corps
time to turn out. The Commander of a Picquet who retires with his
men at full speed, and the Enemy at his heels, deserves the severest
punishment; he must retire as slow as possible, and constantly
skirmish.
SECTION III.
IF NO PICQUET WAS ON THE SPOT BEFORE.
_By Day._
Being arrived at the spot chosen by himself, or pointed out to him,
he forms his Picquet, and takes out as many men as he thinks he has
occasion for as Videttes. To fix upon the number of Videttes, is
much facilitated by riding on the top of a hill, and observing the
number of roads and hills in front. With these Videttes he goes on,
and places them in such a manner that every one of them is able to
see individually what is coming towards the Picquet, as well as the
neighbouring Videttes. The remainder of the Picquet dismounts in the
mean time, with the exception of one Sentry, who is to be placed a
little in advance. The bridles are not to be taken off. In placing
the Videttes the Officer will have acquired a sufficient knowledge of
the country to be able to judge whether any of them are superfluous,
(which is much to be avoided, as men and horses are unnecessarily
fatigued by it,) or whether there ought to be more. Two-thirds of
the Picquet now unbridle: it is to be recollected that the whole of
a Picquet should never unbridle. The Officer then reconnoitres the
country. Every one ambitious to do his duty well will make a little
sketch, in which the following are to be marked;
1. Roads; 2. Rivers; 3. Bridges and Fords; 4. Morasses, cavities,
hollow roads, and mountains; 5. Wood; 6. Towns, Villages and their
distances.
If the Officer does not acquire such an exact knowledge of the
country, he cannot be responsible for the security of his Picquet, and
of the corps to which he belongs.
By this time he will have had opportunity to fix upon the spot where
his Picquet and Videttes ought to be placed at night.
_By Night._
It is impossible to lay down any fixed, principles on this subject;
but the general rules are, to advance the Picquet at least two or
three English miles in front of the main body: to place it behind a
bridge, ravine, wood, or bog through which the road passes, in order
to be enabled to make a stand immediately on being attacked, and to
place Videttes in front and flanks. Small Patrols of two or three men
in front, and flanks at half an hour's interval, and constantly kept
in motion, will give perfect security, particularly if one of the
men sometimes dismounts, and listens with his ear on the ground: he
will hear the march of troops at a great distance. This precaution is
indispensable in stormy weather. Upon coming by night to a new spot,
particularly in a mountainous or woody country, small Patrols must be
pushed forward immediately in all the roads, &c., to secure in the
first instance the placing of Videttes, &c., &c.
If the enemy is near, no fire is to be lighted, and the spot where the
Picquet stands should be changed very often; one-half of the Picquet
should be mounted, the other stand with the bridles in their hands.
SECTION IV.
RELIEVING ANOTHER PICQUET.
Great part of what is said in sections I. and II. is likewise to be
applied here. As soon as the Officer is arrived at the Picquet that
is to be relieved, he forms at its left flank, or behind it, as the
nature of the ground requires, draws out a non-commissioned officer,
and as many Videttes as he has to relieve, (the remainder dismounts,)
and proceeds with the Officer commanding the old Picquet and his own
non-commissioned Officer to relieve the Videttes. The Officers should
be very particular in delivering the detail of their duties, and the
following is to be observed on such occasions.
1. All written orders or instructions must be delivered, and the
verbal orders written down and signed by the Officer who is relieved.
2. The outlines of the sketch belonging to the Officer commanding the
old Picquet are to be copied and filled up afterwards--
3. To whom the reports are to be sent.
4. Where the Picquets on the flanks are stationed; what roads lead to
them; how often Patrols are exchanged between them in the night. In
case the roads to them are little known, or difficult to be found, the
Non-commissioned Officer of the old Picquet must show them to that of
the new one, who takes another man with him.
5. Inquiries must be made as to the knowledge the Officer has of the
enemy, particularly where he patrols to; whether he thinks that the
Picquet has been well posted, at night as well as in the day, or
whether improvements can be made. If such an improvement is found to
be necessary by placing one or two more Videttes, they ought to be
posted immediately, but the same is to be reported without delay.
At the relief | 2,191.24637 |
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http://www.pgdp.net.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
Passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.
The words phoebe, manoeuvre, manoeuvring, Pooecetes and phoeniceus use
"oe" ligature in the original text.
The printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation,
and ligature usage have been retained.
WAYS OF NATURE
[Illustration: A BIRD IN SIGHT]
WAYS OF NATURE
BY
JOHN BURROUGHS
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
COPYRIGHT 1905 BY JOHN BURROUGHS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Published October 1905_
PREFACE
My reader will find this volume quite a departure in certain ways from
the tone and spirit of my previous books, especially in regard to the
subject of animal intelligence. Heretofore I have made the most of
every gleam of intelligence of bird or four-footed beast that came
under my observation, often, I fancy, making too much of it, and
giving the wild creatures credit for more "sense" than they really
possessed. The nature lover is always tempted to do this very thing;
his tendency is to humanize the wild life about him, and to read his
own traits and moods into whatever he looks upon. I have never
consciously done this myself, at least to the extent of willfully
misleading my reader. But some of our later nature writers have been
guilty of this fault, and have so grossly exaggerated and
misrepresented the every-day wild life of our fields and woods that
their example has caused a strong reaction to take place in my own
mind, and has led me to set about examining the whole subject of
animal life and instinct in a way I have never done before.
In March, 1903, I contributed to "The Atlantic Monthly" a paper called
"Real and Sham Natural History," which was as vigorous a protest as I
could make against the growing tendency to humanize the lower
animals. The paper was widely read and discussed, and bore fruit in
many ways, much of it good and wholesome fruit, but a little of it
bitter and acrid. For obvious reasons that paper is not included in
this collection. But I have given all the essays that were the outcome
of the currents of thought and inquiry that it set going in my mind,
and I have given them nearly in the order in which they were written,
so that the reader may see the growth of my own mind and opinions in
relation to the subject. I confess I have not been fully able to
persuade myself that the lower animals ever show anything more than a
faint gleam of what we call thought and reflection,--the power to
evolve ideas from sense impressions,--except feebly in the case of the
dog and the apes, and possibly the elephant. Nearly all the animal
behavior that the credulous public looks upon as the outcome of reason
is simply the result of the adaptiveness and plasticity of instinct.
The animal has impulses and impressions where we have ideas and
concepts. Of our faculties I concede to them perception, sense memory,
and association of memories, and little else. Without these it would
be impossible for their lives to go on.
I am aware that there is much repetition in this volume, and that the
names of several of the separate chapters differ much more than do the
subjects discussed in them.
When I was a boy on the farm, we used to thrash our grain with the
hand-flail. Our custom was to thrash a flooring of sheaves on one side,
then turn the sheaves over and thrash them on the other, then unbind
them and thrash the loosened straw again, and then finish by turning
the whole over and thrashing it once more. I suspect my reader will
feel that I have followed the same method in many of these papers. I
have thrashed the same straw several times, but I have turned it each
time, and I trust have been rewarded by a few additional grains of truth.
Let me hope that the result of the discussion or thrashing will not be to
make the reader love the animals less, but rather to love the truth more.
June, 1905.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. WAYS OF NATURE 1
II. BIRD-SONGS 29
III. NATURE WITH CLOSED DOORS 47
IV. THE WIT OF A DUCK 53
V. FACTORS IN ANIMAL LIFE 59
VI. ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 87
VII. DEVIOUS PATHS 109
VIII. WHAT DO ANIMALS KNOW? 123
IX. DO ANIMALS THINK AND REFLECT? 151
X. A PINCH OF SALT 173
XI. THE LITERARY TREATMENT OF NATURE 191
XII. A BEAVER'S REASON 209
XIII. READING THE BOOK OF NATURE 231
XIV. GATHERED BY THE WAY
I. THE TRAINING OF WILD ANIMALS 239
II. AN ASTONISHED PORCUPINE 242
III. BIRDS AND STRINGS 246
IV. MIMICRY 248
V. THE COLORS OF FRUITS 251
VI. INSTINCT 254
VII. THE ROBIN 261
VIII. THE CROW 265
INDEX 273
I
WAYS OF NATURE
I was much amused lately by a half-dozen or more letters that came to
me from some Californian schoolchildren, who wrote to ask if I would
please tell them whether or not birds have sense. One little girl
said: "I would be pleased if you would write and tell me if birds have
sense. I wanted to see if I couldn't be the first one to know." I felt
obliged to reply to the children that we ourselves do not have sense
enough to know just how much sense the birds and other wild creatures
do have, and that they do appear to have some, though their actions
are probably the result of what we call instinct, or natural
prompting, like that of the bean-stalk when it climbs the pole. Yet a
bean-stalk will sometimes show a kind of perversity or depravity that
looks like the result of deliberate choice. Each season, among my
dozen or more hills of pole-beans, there are usually two or three
low-minded plants that will not climb the poles, but go groveling upon
the ground, wandering off among the potato-vines or cucumbers,
departing utterly from the traditions of their race, becoming
shiftless and vagrant. When I lift them up and wind them around the
poles and tie them with a wisp of grass, they rarely stay. In some way
they seem to get a wrong start in life, or else are degenerates from
the first. I have never known anything like this among the wild
creatures, though it happens often enough among our own kind. The
trouble with the bean is doubtless this: the Lima bean is of South
American origin, and in the Southern Hemisphere, beans, it seems, go
the other way around the pole; that is, from right to left. When
transferred north of the equator, it takes them some time to learn the
new way, or from left to right, and a few of them are always
backsliding, or departing from the new way and vaguely seeking the
old; and not finding this, they become vagabonds.
How much or how little sense or judgment our wild neighbors have is
hard to determine. The crows and other birds that carry shell-fish
high in the air and then let them drop upon the rocks to break the
shell show something very much like reason, or a knowledge of the
relation of cause and effect, though it is probably an unthinking
habit formed in their ancestors under the pressure of hunger. Froude
tells of some species of bird that he saw in South Africa flying amid
the swarm of migrating locusts and clipping off the wings of the
insects so that they would drop to the earth, where the birds could
devour them at their leisure. Our squirrels will cut off the chestnut
burs before they have opened, allowing them to fall to the ground,
where, as they seem to know, the burs soon dry open. Feed a caged <DW53>
soiled food,--a piece of bread or meat rolled on the ground,--and
before he eats it he will put it in his dish of water and wash it off.
The author of "Wild Life Near Home" says that muskrats "will wash what
they eat, whether washing is needed or not." If the <DW53> washes his
food only when it needs washing, and not in every individual instance,
then the proceeding looks like an act of judgment; the same with the
muskrat. But if they always wash their food, whether soiled or not,
the act looks more like instinct or an inherited habit, the origin of
which is obscure.
Birds and animals probably think without knowing that they think;
that is, they have not self-consciousness. Only man seems to
be endowed with this faculty; he alone develops disinterested
intelligence,--intelligence that is not primarily concerned with his
own safety and well-being, but that looks abroad upon things. The wit
of the lower animals seems all to have been developed by the struggle
for existence, and it rarely gets beyond the prudential stage. The
sharper the struggle, the sharper the wit. Our porcupine, for
instance, is probably the most stupid of animals and has the least
speed; it has little use for either wit or celerity of movement. It
carries a death-dealing armor to protect it from its enemies, and it
can climb the nearest hemlock tree and live on the bark all winter.
The skunk, too, pays for its terrible weapon by dull wits. But think
of the wit of the much-hunted fox, the much-hunted otter, the
much-sought beaver! Even the grouse, when often fired at, learns, when
it is started in the open, to fly with a corkscrew motion to avoid the
shot.
Fear, love, and hunger were the agents that developed the wits of the
lower animals, as they were, of course, the prime factors in
developing the intelligence of man. But man has gone on, while the
animals have stopped at these fundamental wants,--the need of safety,
of offspring, of food.
Probably in a state of wild nature birds never make mistakes, but
where they come in contact with our civilization and are confronted by
new conditions, they very naturally make mistakes. For instance, their
cunning in nest-building sometimes deserts them. The art of the bird
is to conceal its nest both as to position and as to material, but now
and then it is betrayed into weaving into its structure showy and
bizarre bits of this or that, which give its secret away, and which
seem to violate all the traditions of its kind. I have the picture of
a robin's nest before me, upon the outside of which are stuck a muslin
flower, a leaf from a small calendar, and a photograph of a local
celebrity. A more incongruous use of material in bird architecture it
would be hard to find. I have been told of another robin's nest upon
the outside of which the bird had fastened a wooden label from a
near-by flower-bed, marked "Wake Robin." Still another nest I have
seen built upon a large, showy foundation of the paper-like flowers of
antennaria, or everlasting. The wood thrush frequently weaves a
fragment of newspaper or a white rag into the foundation of its nest.
"Evil communications corrupt good manners." The newspaper and the
rag-bag unsettle the wits of the birds. The phoebe-bird is capable
of this kind of mistake or indiscretion. All the past generations of
her tribe have built upon natural and, therefore, neutral sites,
usually under shelving and overhanging rocks, and the art of adapting
the nest to its surroundings, blending it with them, has been highly
developed. But phoebe now frequently builds under our sheds and
porches, where, so far as concealment is concerned, a change of
material, say from moss to dry grass or shreds of bark, would be an
advantage to her; but she departs not a bit from the family
traditions; she uses the same woodsy mosses, which in some cases,
especially when the nest is placed upon newly sawed timber, make her
secret an open one to all eyes.
It does indeed often look as if the birds had very little sense. Think
of a bluebird, or an oriole, or a robin, or a jay, fighting for hours
at a time its own image as reflected in a pane of glass; quite
exhausting itself in its fury to demolish its supposed rival! Yet I
have often witnessed this little comedy. It is another instance of how
the arts of our civilization corrupt and confuse the birds. It may be
that in the course of many generations the knowledge of glass will get
into their blood, and they will cease to be fooled by it, as they may
also in time learn what a poor foundation the newspaper is to build
upon. The ant or the bee could not be fooled by the glass in that way
for a moment.
_Have_ the birds and our other wild neighbors sense, as distinguished
from instinct? Is a change of habits to meet new conditions, or the
taking advantage of accidental circumstances, an evidence of sense?
How many birds appear to have taken advantage of the protection
afforded by man in building their nests! How many of them build near
paths and along roadsides, to say nothing of those that come close to
our dwellings! Even the quail seems to prefer the borders of the
highway to the open fields. I have chanced upon only three quails'
nests, and these were all by the roadside. One season a scarlet
tanager that had failed with her first nest in the woods came to try
again in a little cherry tree that stood in the open, a few feet from
my cabin, where I could almost touch the nest with my hand as I
passed. But in my absence she again came to grief, some marauder,
probably a red squirrel, taking her eggs. Will her failure in this
case cause her to lose faith in the protective influence of the shadow
of a human dwelling? I hope not. I have known the turtle dove to make
a similar move, occupying an old robin's nest near my neighbor's
cottage. The timid rabbit will sometimes come up from the bushy fields
and excavate a place for her nest in the lawn a few feet from the
house. All such things look like acts of judgment, though they may be
only the result of a greater fear overcoming a lesser fear.
It is in the preservation of their lives and of their young that the
wild creatures come the nearest to showing what we call sense or
reason. The boys tell me that a rabbit that has been driven from her
hole a couple of times by a ferret will not again run into it when
pursued. The tragedy of a rabbit pursued by a mink or a weasel may
often be read upon our winter snows. The rabbit does not take to her
hole; it would be fatal. And yet, though capable of far greater speed,
so far as I have observed, she does not escape the mink; he very soon
pulls her down. It would look as though a fatal paralysis, the
paralysis of utter fear, fell upon the poor creature as soon as she
found herself hunted by this subtle, bloodthirsty enemy. I have seen
upon the snow where her jumps had become shorter and shorter, with
tufts of fur marking each stride, till the bloodstains, and then her
half-devoured body, told the whole tragic story.
There is probably nothing in human | 2,191.74572 |
2023-11-16 18:53:35.9256980 | 1,926 | 9 |
Produced by Eric Eldred, David Garcia, Charles Franks, and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
A SHEPHERD'S LIFE
IMPRESSIONS OF THE SOUTH WILTSHIRE DOWNS
BY W. H. HUDSON
NOTE
I an obliged to Messrs. Longmans, Green, & Co. for permission to make
use of an article entitled "A Shepherd of the Downs," which appeared in
the October and November numbers of _Longmans' Magazine_ in 1902.
With the exception of that article, portions of which I have
incorporated in different chapters, the whole of the matter contained in
this work now appears for the first time.
CONTENTS
Chapter.
I. SALISBURY PLAIN
II. SALISBURY AS I SEE IT
III. WINTERBOURNE BISHOP
IV. A SHEPHERD OF THE DOWNS
V. EARLY MEMORIES
VI. SHEPHERD ISAAC BAWCOMBE
VII. THE DEER-STEALERS
VIII. SHEPHERDS AND POACHING
IX. THE SHEPHERD ON FOXES
X. BIRD LIFE ON THE DOWNS
XI. STARLINGS AND SHEEP-BELLS
XII. THE SHEPHERD AND THE BIBLE
XIII. VALE OF THE WYLYE
XIV. A SHEEP-DOG'S LIFE
XV. THE ELLERBYS OF DOVETON
XVI. OLD WILTSHIRE DAYS
XVII. OLD WILTSHIRE DAYS (_continued_)
XVIII. THE SHEPHERD'S RETURN
XIX. THE DARK PEOPLE OF THE VILLAGE
XX. SOME SHEEP-DOGS
XXI. THE SHEPHERD AS NATURALIST
XXII. THE MASTER OF THE VILLAGE
XXIII. ISAAC'S CHILDREN
XXIV. LIVING IN THE PAST
A SHEPHERD'S LIFE
SALISBURY PLAIN
CHAPTER I
Introductory remarks--Wiltshire little favoured by tourists--Aspect of
the downs--Bad weather--Desolate aspect--The bird-scarer--Fascination
of the downs--The larger Salisbury Plain--Effect of the military
occupation--A century's changes--Birds--Old Wiltshire sheep--Sheep-horns
in a well--Changes wrought by cultivation--Rabbit-warrens on the
downs--Barrows obliterated by the plough and by rabbits
Wiltshire looks large on the map of England, a great green county, yet
it never appears to be a favourite one to those who go on rambles in the
land. At all events I am unable to bring to mind an instance of a lover
of Wiltshire who was not a native or a resident, or had not been to
Marlborough and loved the country on account of early associations. Nor
can I regard myself as an exception, since, owing to a certain kind of
adaptiveness in me, a sense of being at home wherever grass grows, I am
in a way a native too. Again, listen to any half-dozen of your friends
discussing the places they have visited, or intend visiting, comparing
notes about the counties, towns, churches, castles, scenery--all that
draws them and satisfies their nature, and the chances are that they
will not even mention Wiltshire. They all know it "in a way"; they have
seen Salisbury Cathedral and Stonehenge, which everybody must go to look
at once in his life; and they have also viewed the country from the
windows of a railroad carriage as they passed through on their flight to
Bath and to Wales with its mountains, and to the west country, which
many of us love best of all--Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall. For there is
nothing striking in Wiltshire, at all events to those who love nature
first; nor mountains, nor sea, nor anything to compare with the places
they are hastening to, west or north. The downs! Yes, the downs are
there, full in sight of your window, in their flowing forms resembling
vast, pale green waves, wave beyond wave, "in fluctuation fixed"; a fine
country to walk on in fine weather for all those who regard the mere
exercise of walking as sufficient pleasure. But to those who wish for
something more, these downs may be neglected, since, if downs are
wanted, there is the higher, nobler Sussex range within an hour of
London. There are others on whom the naked aspect of the downs has a
repelling effect. Like Gilpin they love not an undecorated earth; and
false and ridiculous as Gilpin's taste may seem to me and to all those
who love the chalk, which "spoils everything" as Gilpin said, he
certainly expresses a feeling common to those who are unaccustomed to
the emptiness and silence of these great spaces.
As to walking on the downs, one remembers that the fine days are not so
many, even in the season when they are looked for--they have certainly
been few during this wet and discomfortable one of 1909. It is indeed
only on the chalk hills that I ever feel disposed to quarrel with this
English climate, for all weathers are good to those who love the open
air, and have their special attractions. What a pleasure it is to be out
in rough weather in October when the equinoctial gales are on, "the wind
Euroclydon," to listen to its roaring in the bending trees, to watch the
dead leaves flying, the pestilence-stricken multitudes, yellow and black
and red, whirled away in flight on flight before the volleying blast,
and to hear and see and feel the tempests of rain, the big silver-grey
drops that smite you like hail! And what pleasure too, in the still grey
November weather, the time of suspense and melancholy before winter, a
strange quietude, like a sense of apprehension in nature! And so on
through the revolving year, in all places in all weathers, there is
pleasure in the open air, except on these chalk hills because of their
bleak nakedness. There the wind and driving rain are not for but against
you, and may overcome you with misery. One feels their loneliness,
monotony, and desolation on many days, sometimes even when it is not
wet, and I here recall an amusing encounter with a bird-scarer during
one of these dreary spells.
It was in March, bitterly cold, with an east wind which had been blowing
many days, and overhead the sky was of a hard, steely grey. I was
cycling along the valley of the Ebble, and finally leaving it pushed up
a long steep <DW72> and set off over the high plain by a dusty road with
the wind hard against me. A more desolate scene than the one before me
it would be hard to imagine, for the land was all ploughed and stretched
away before me, an endless succession of vast grey fields, divided by
wire fences. On all that space there was but one living thing in sight,
a human form, a boy, far away on the left side, standing in the middle
of a big field with something which looked like a gun in his hand.
Immediately after I saw him he, too, appeared to have caught sight of
me, for turning he set off running as fast as he could over the ploughed
ground towards the road, as if intending to speak to me. The distance he
would have to run was about a quarter of a mile and I doubted that he
would be there in time to catch me, but he ran fast and the wind was
against me, and he arrived at the road just as I got to that point.
There by the side of the fence he stood, panting from his race, his
handsome face glowing with colour, a boy about twelve or thirteen, with
a fine strong figure, remarkably well dressed for a bird-scarer. For
that was what he was, and he carried a queer, heavy-looking old gun. I
got off my wheel and waited for him to speak, but he was silent, and
continued regarding me with the smiling countenance of one well pleased
with himself. "Well?" I said, but there was no answer; he only kept on
smiling.
"What did you want?" I demanded impatiently.
"I didn't want anything."
"But you started running here as fast as you could the moment you caught
sight of me."
"Yes, I did."
"Well, what did you do it for--what was your object in running here?"
"Just to see you pass," he answered.
It was a little ridiculous and vexed me at first | 2,191.945738 |
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