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Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: The Settler]
THE SETTLER
BY
HERMAN WHITAKER
AUTHOR OF
"THE MYSTERY OF THE BARRANCA"
"THE PLANTER" ETC.
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
[Illustration: Title page]
COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TO
ALYSE
*CONTENTS*
CHAP.
I. The Park Lands
II. A Deputation
III. The Trail
IV. The Coyote Snaps
V. Jenny
VI. The Shadow
VII. Mr. Flynn Steps into the Breach
VIII. When April Smiled Again
IX. The Devil
X. Friction
XI. The Frost
XII. The Break
XIII. The Camp
XIV. The Red Teamster
XV. Travail
XVI. A House-party
XVII. --And Its Finale
XVIII. The Persistence of the Established
XIX. The Wages of Sin
XX. --Is Death
XXI. Persecution
XXII. Denunciation
XXIII. The Charivari
XXIV. Without the Pale
XXV. The Sunken Grade
XXVI. Winnipeg
XXVII. The Nature of the Cinch
XXVIII. The Strike
XXIX. The Bluff
XXX. Fire
XXXI. Wherein the Fates Substitute a Change of Bill
XXXII. The Trail Again
*THE SETTLER*
*I*
*THE PARK LANDS*
The clip of a cutting axe flushed a heron from the bosom of a reedy lake
and sent him soaring in slow spirals until, at the zenith of his flight,
he overlooked a vast champaign. Far to the south a yellow streak marked
the scorched prairies of southern Manitoba; eastward and north a spruce
forest draped the land in a mantle of gloom; while to the west the woods
were thrown with a scattering hand over a vast expanse of rolling
prairie. These were the Park Lands of the Fertile Belt--a beautiful
country, rich, fat-soiled, rank with flowers and herbage, once the
hunting-ground of Cree and Ojibway, but now passed to the sterner race
whose lonely farmsteads were strewn over the face of the land. These
presented a deadly likeness. Each had its log-house, its huge tent of
firewood upreared against next winter's drift, and the same yellow
strawstacks dotted their fenceless fields. One other thing, too, they
had in common--though this did not lie to the eye of the heron--a
universal mortgage, legacy of the recent boom, covered all.
At the flap of the great bird's wing a man stepped from the timber and
stood watching him soar. He was a tall fellow, lean as a greyhound,
flat-flanked, in color neither dark nor fair. His eyes were deep-set
and looked out from a face that was burned to the color of a brick. His
nose was straight and large, cheeks well hollowed; the face would have
been stern but for the humor that lurked about the mouth. Taken
together, the man was an excellent specimen of what he was--a young
American of the settler type.
"Gone plumb out of sight," he muttered, rubbing his dazzled eyes. "An'
he wasn't no spring chicken. Time to feed, I reckon."
A few steps carried him to his team, a rangy yoke of steers which were
tied in the shade. Having fed them, he returned to his work and chopped
steadily until, towards evening, his wagon was loaded with poplar rails.
Then hitching, he mounted his load and "hawed" and "geed" his way
through the forest. As he came out on the open prairie the metallic
rattle of a mower travelled down the wind. Stopping, he listened, while
a shadow deepened his tan.
"Comes from Morrill's big slough," he muttered, whipping up the oxen.
"Who'll it be?"
Morrill, his near neighbor | 2,294.562636 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.5445970 | 96 | 13 |
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See 33218-h.htm or 33218-h.zip:
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| 2,294.564637 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.5462420 | 2,249 | 34 |
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Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
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Amabel Channice
BY
Anne Douglas Sedgwick
AUTHOR OF "THE RESCUE," "PATHS OF JUDGEMENT," "A FOUNTAIN
SEALED," ETC.
NEW YORK The Century Co. 1908
Copyright, 1908, by THE CENTURY CO.
_Published October, 1908_
THE DE VINNE PRESS
AMABEL CHANNICE
I
Lady Channice was waiting for her son to come in from the garden. The
afternoon was growing late, but she had not sat down to the table,
though tea was ready and the kettle sent out a narrow banner of steam.
Walking up and down the long room she paused now and then to look at the
bowls and vases of roses placed about it, now and then to look out of
the windows, and finally at the last window she stopped to watch
Augustine advancing over the lawn towards the house. It was a grey stone
house, low and solid, its bareness unalleviated by any grace of ornament
or structure, and its two long rows of windows gazed out resignedly at a
tame prospect. The stretch of lawn sloped to a sunken stone wall; beyond
the wall a stream ran sluggishly in a ditch-like channel; on the left
the grounds were shut in by a sycamore wood, and beyond were flat
meadows crossed in the distance by lines of tree-bordered roads. It was
a peaceful, if not a cheering prospect. Lady Channice was fond of it.
Cheerfulness was not a thing she looked for; but she looked for peace,
and it was peace she found in the flat green distance, the far, reticent
ripple of hill on the horizon, the dark forms of the sycamores. Her only
regret for the view was that it should miss the sunrise and sunset; in
the evenings, beyond the silhouetted woods, one saw the golden sky; but
the house faced north, and it was for this that the green of the lawn
was so dank, and the grey of the walls so cold, and the light in the
drawing-room where Lady Channice stood so white and so monotonous.
She was fond of the drawing-room, also, unbeautiful and grave to sadness
though it was. The walls were wainscotted to the ceiling with ancient
oak, so that though the north light entered at four high windows the
room seemed dark. The furniture was ugly, miscellaneous and
inappropriate. The room had been dismantled, and in place of the former
drawing-room suite were gathered together incongruous waifs and strays
from dining- and smoking-room and boudoir. A number of heavy chairs
predominated covered in a maroon leather which had cracked in places;
and there were three lugubrious sofas to match.
By degrees, during her long and lonely years at Charlock House, Lady
Channice had, at first tentatively, then with a growing assurance in her
limited sphere of action, moved away all the ugliest, most trivial
things: tattered brocade and gilt footstools, faded antimacassars,
dismal groups of birds and butterflies under glass cases. When she sat
alone in the evening, after Augustine, as child or boy, had gone to bed,
the ghostly glimmer of the birds, the furtive glitter of a glass eye
here and there, had seemed to her quite dreadful. The removal of the
cases (they were large and heavy, and Mrs. Bray, the housekeeper, had
looked grimly disapproving)--was her crowning act of courage, and ever
since their departure she had breathed more freely. It had been easier
to dispose of all the little colonies of faded photographs that stood on
cabinets and tables; they were photographs of her husband's family and
of his family's friends, people most of whom were quite unknown to her,
and their continued presence in the abandoned house was due to
indifference, not affection: no one had cared enough about them to put
them away, far less to look at them. After looking at them for some
years,--these girls in court dress of a bygone fashion, huntsmen holding
crops, sashed babies and matrons in caps or tiaras,--Lady Channice had
cared enough to put them away. She had not, either, to ask for Mrs.
Bray's assistance or advice for this, a fact which was a relief, for
Mrs. Bray was a rather dismal being and reminded her, indeed, of the
stuffed birds in the removed glass cases. With her own hands she
incarcerated the photographs in the drawers of a heavily carved bureau
and turned the keys upon them.
The only ornaments now, were the pale roses, the books, and, above her
writing-desk, a little picture that she had brought with her, a
water-colour sketch of her old home painted by her mother many years
ago.
So the room looked very bare. It almost looked like the parlour of a
convent; with a little more austerity, whitened walls and a few thick
velvet and gilt lives of the saints on the tables, the likeness would
have been complete. The house itself was conventual in aspect, and Lady
Channice, as she stood there in the quiet light at the window, looked
not unlike a nun, were it not for her crown of pale gold hair that shone
in the dark room and seemed, like the roses, to bring into it the
brightness of an outer, happier world.
She was a tall woman of forty, her ample form, her wide bosom, the
falling folds of her black dress, her loosely girdled waist, suggesting,
with the cloistral analogies, the mournful benignity of a bereaved
Madonna. Seen as she stood there, leaning her head to watch her son's
approach, she was an almost intimidating presence, black, still, and
stately. But when the door opened and the young man came in, when, not
moving to meet him, she turned her head with a slight smile of welcome,
all intimidating impressions passed away. Her face, rather, as it
turned, under its crown of gold, was the intimidated face. It was
curiously young, pure, flawless, as though its youth and innocence had
been preserved in some crystal medium of prayer and silence; and if the
nun-like analogies failed in their awe-inspiring associations, they
remained in the associations of unconscious pathos and unconscious
appeal. Amabel Channice's face, like her form, was long and delicately
ample; its pallor that of a flower grown in shadow; the mask a little
over-large for the features. Her eyes were small, beautifully shaped,
slightly slanting upwards, their light grey darkened under golden
lashes, the brows definitely though palely marked. Her mouth was pale
coral-colour, and the small upper lip, lifting when she smiled as she
was smiling now, showed teeth of an infantile, milky whiteness. The
smile was charming, timid, tentative, ingratiating, like a young girl's,
and her eyes were timid, too, and a little wild.
"Have you had a good read?" she asked her son. He had a book in his
hand.
"Very, thanks. But it is getting chilly, down there in the meadow. And
what a lot of frogs there are in the ditch," said Augustine smiling,
"they were jumping all over the place."
"Oh, as long as they weren't toads!" said Lady Channice, her smile
lighting in response. "When I came here first to live there were so many
toads, in the stone areas, you know, under the gratings in front of the
cellar windows. You can't imagine how many! It used quite to terrify me
to look at them and I went to the front of the house as seldom as
possible. I had them all taken away, finally, in baskets,--not killed,
you know, poor things,--but just taken and put down in a field a mile
off. I hope they didn't starve;--but toads are very intelligent, aren't
they; one always associates them with fairy-tales and princes."
She had gone to the tea-table while she spoke and was pouring the
boiling water into the teapot. Her voice had pretty, flute-like ups and
downs in it and a questioning, upward cadence at the end of sentences.
Her upper lip, her smile, the run of her speech, all would have made one
think her humorous, were it not for the strain of nervousness that one
felt in her very volubility.
Her son lent her a kindly but rather vague attention while she talked to
him about the toads, and his eye as he stood watching her make the tea
was also vague. He sat down presently, as if suddenly remembering why he
had come in, and it was only after a little interval of silence, in
which he took his cup from his mother's hands, that something else
seemed to occur to him as suddenly, a late arriving suggestion from her
speech.
"What a horribly gloomy place you must have found it."
Her eyes, turning on him quickly, lost, in an instant, their uncertain
gaiety.
"Gloomy? Is it gloomy? Do you feel it gloomy here, Augustine?"
"Oh, well, no, not exactly," he answered easily. "You see I've always
been used to it. You weren't."
As she said nothing to this, seeming at a loss for any reply, he went on
presently to talk of other things, of the book he had been reading, a
heavy metaphysical tome; of books that he intended to read; of a letter
that he had received that morning from the Eton friend with whom he was
going up to Oxford for his first term. His mother listened, showing a
careful interest usual with her, but after another little silence she
said suddenly:
"I think it's a very nice place, Charlock House, Augustine. Your father
wouldn't have wanted me to live here if he'd imagined that I could | 2,294.566282 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.5463040 | 2,794 | 62 |
Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Martin Pettit 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.)
MARGUERITE DE ROBERVAL
_A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF JACQUES CARTIER_
By
T. G. MARQUIS
TORONTO
THE COPP CLARK COMPANY LIMITED
1899
MARGUERITE DE ROBERVAL
CHAPTER I
"These narrow, cramped streets torture me! I must get out of this place
or I shall go mad. The country, with its rolling fields and great
stretches of calm sky helps a little, but nothing except the ocean will
satisfy my spirit. Five years have gone now, and I am still penned up in
this miserable hole, with no power to go abroad, save for a cruise up
the Channel, or a run south along the coast. If matters do not change, I
think I shall quietly weigh anchor on La Hermine and slip across the
Atlantic without leave of King or blessing of priest. I tell you,
Claude, it would be rare sport to go that way, without a good-bye word
to friend or lover. Gold is there in plenty, and diamonds are there, and
a road to the Indies; and if we should bring back riches and new
discoveries the King would forgive our boldness."
The speaker was a middle-aged man, with jet-black hair and beard, and
piercing black eyes. He was as straight as a mid-forest pine, and tanned
and wrinkled with years of exposure to sun and wind, but was a
handsome, commanding fellow withal. His name was Jacques Cartier. He was
the most famous seaman in France, and had already made two trips across
the stormy Atlantic in boats in which nineteenth-century sailors would
fear to cross the Channel.
His companion was Claude de Pontbriand, a young man of gentle birth, who
had been with him on his second voyage. He was as dark as Cartier, with
a lion-like neck and shoulders, a resolute mouth and chin, and a kindly
eye, whose expression had a touch of melancholy. Among his companions he
was known as their Bayard; and the purity of his life, the generosity of
his disposition, and his dauntless courage made the title a fitting one.
The two men were walking along one of the winding thoroughfares of the
French seaport of St Malo, on a glorious moonlight evening in the autumn
of 1539. The hour, though still early, was an unusual one in those days
for anybody to be abroad simply for pleasure; and the little town was
quiet and deserted save for an occasional pedestrian whom business, of
one kind or another, had compelled to leave his home.
There was a short silence after Cartier's remarks, before De Pontbriand
replied:
"I thought you had had enough of the New World."
"Enough!" exclaimed Cartier. "That New World is mine. I first took
possession of it. My cross still stands guarding my interests at Gaspe,
and my memory is still dear to the red men from Stadacona to Hochelaga."
"I am not so certain of the friendship of the Indians," interrupted his
companion. "If we had not carried off old Donnacona and his
fellow-chiefs it might have been so, but now that they are dead you will
have some difficulty in inventing a story that will regain you the
confidence of their tribesmen. Ah! Cartier, I warned you then; and now I
only regret that I did not oppose your action with my very sword. Poor
devils! It was pitiful to see them droop and droop like caged birds, and
finally die one by one. Poor old Donnacona! I expect we shall find his
spirit back on the heights of Stadacona if we ever cross the ocean
again."
"That was a mistake," replied Cartier, "but one never knows just what
will be the results of an action. I did it for the best. I thought the
Indians would enjoy a visit to Europe as much as did the two lads I
brought over on my first voyage. They were too old, however, and seem to
have been rooted to the soil. I am afraid we shall have to invent a way
of explaining their absence should we return to Hochelaga. Would it not
be well to marry them to noble ladies, and give them dukedoms in France
to govern?"
"A good idea, with the one drawback that it is false; and there are
enough false men already in France without an honest seaman swelling
their numbers. But my impression of the savages is, that you will have a
hard time to make them believe your story. They are a deep people, and,
as we found them, a generous people; and once deceived, you will find
that they will never again have perfect confidence in their betrayers."
"Perhaps so; I daresay you are right. But why borrow trouble that is
years and leagues away from us? We are here in old France, and likely to
stay here."
"I am not so sure of that."
"What!"
"I am not so sure of that. I had a long _tete-a-tete_ with Jean Francois
de la Roque to-day, and he is wavering. He has much influence in
Picardy, and King Francis is greatly indebted to him. He declares that
if he wants a ship, or indeed a fleet, he can have it. He professes to
be anxious to win souls in the new land of darkness, as he calls it; but
do not lay too much stress on the darkness when you meet him. The gold
and the diamonds and the furs will touch his heart much quicker than
anything else. He is a shrewd fellow, and if you can get him
enthusiastic over your New World you will soon be at your beloved
Stadacona, and have a chance to stay there too. His idea is to plant a
colony there, develop the resources of the country, and, I have no
doubt, save the souls of the inhabitants at his leisure. I wish we could
get together some of our old friends. A few of the men who pulled safely
through the scurvy would be a great help on another such expedition."
"Where is Charles de la Pommeraye?" interrupted Cartier.
"De la Pommeraye! Have you not heard the last news of him?"
"No; what fresh scrape has he been getting into? There is no braver
fellow alive; and if he does get into a few more quarrels than the rest
of us, it is merely because of his excessive gallantry. A petticoat will
always bring him to his knees. Why man, at Hochelaga he doffed his
plumed hat to every fair savage who attracted his eye. If I get a chance
to go again I will find him, though I have to search every hole and
corner in France."
"I am much afraid you will have some trouble in finding him. The last
report I had of him was, that he was seen lying in the streets of Paris
with several daggers gracing his breast. He was my friend, as you know,
and, despite his foolhardiness and follies, the only man in whom I could
ever have perfect confidence. I had always expected he would meet just
such an end; but I have shed more tears for him than I ever thought to
shed for any man."
"Charles de la Pommeraye dead!" exclaimed Cartier. "I cannot believe
it!"
"Neither can I!" interrupted a sturdy voice that made both men leap back
and lay their hands on their weapons. "Neither can I! And if any one
doubts my word, here's my sword to prove it!"
"La Pommeraye!" cried Claude. "Where in Heaven's name did you spring
from?" and the two men seized the hands of the young giant who, in the
attire of a fashionable gallant of the day, with gay- doublet
and hose, richly plumed hat, and surtout trimmed with gold lace, stood
laughing before them.
"Paris, where I was seen lying dead in the streets. How long is it,
Claude, since you have had such a poor opinion of me? I have been put to
strange straits in my day, but I have never yet slept in the streets. Be
thankful I did not leave the two of you to be carried out of this
square in the morning. I came here spoiling for a fight, and had my
sword all ready to begin carving you when Cartier's voice struck me like
a whiff of bracing, salt-sea air. But what great enterprise have you on
hand? Your serious looks bespeak some weighty scheme. Whatever it is, my
sword is at your service."
"I doubt if it would be wise to take such a fire-eating duellist into
our confidence," said Claude, regarding his friend with a smile.
"Now, Claude, that is hardly fair. You know I am no duellist. I merely
fight when I am compelled to, and never without just provocation. For
instance, I had a delightful passage-at-arms last night, but it was no
fault of mine. I was coming across the Sillon when a pretty girl came
towards me with a leisurely step that seemed to say: "I have just been
watching for you." She had a face like a flower, in the moonlight, and I
could not resist snatching a kiss. That was all: but it acted like a
match in a powder magazine. She started back with a cry. Evidently she
had not been waiting for me; and before I could apologise, or take back
the kiss, her lover swooped down upon me with drawn sword."
"I trust," exclaimed Claude, "he let a little of the impudence out of
your gallant hide."
"Not a drop. I know the danger of kissing pretty girls in the public
thoroughfare, and never do it without having my hand on my sword-hilt.
He sprang forward, and I sprang back. The girl was between us, and in
his haste to spit me, he pushed her roughly aside. The slight pause
gave me time to draw my sword. He came at me, blind with fury, but I
was on my guard. A pass or two showed me that I could disarm the fellow
in five minutes. The fair one stood by, mutely wringing her hands, and
as I wished to stand well in her opinion, I resolved to show her what I
could do. I have been learning some cuts and thrusts and guards in
Paris, and now was my chance to put them in practice. I bewildered the
fellow, and when I thought her highness must have seen that I was the
better man, and the more worthy, I let out with a rapidity rarely seen
in musty old St Malo, and my opponent's sword went clanging against the
wall.
"The man was no coward. No sooner was his sword out of his hand than he
tore open his shirt, crying: 'Stab, villain, insulter of women!' But if
I had attempted to take him at his word, and punch a hole or two in him,
I could not have done so, for even while he spoke his beloved sprang
between us, and hissing the epithet 'Coward!' in my face, flashed a
dagger towards my breast. So quick was the stroke that I am afraid only
a miracle could have prevented a woman from at last making a permanent
impression on the heart of Charles de la Pommeraye, but I was once more
to be saved from the base designs of the sex. My antagonist seized her
hand from behind with a vice-like grip; and there we all stood--a most
interesting group of enemies. He was the first to speak.
"'Put up your toy,' he said sternly to the girl, who, except for that
one word 'Coward!' had never uttered a sound since the beginning of the
struggle. 'Put up your toy; my life is in his hand. He has won it with
the sword.'
"'Charles de la Pommeraye,' I answered, 'never strikes a weaponless man.
Take up your sword, my friend, and let us give this fair Amazon a little
more worthy entertainment.'
"But he would not even look at the weapon that had failed him.
"'Here it is,' said I, lifting it from the ground. 'But I am very much
afraid we shall both have to sheathe our swords for to-night. Yours has
lost a good foot. That wall has excellent granite in it. But meet me
here to-morrow with a fresh weapon, and we can finish our little | 2,294.566344 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.6429350 | 7,054 | 58 |
Produced by Henry Flower 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:
_Nitts_
_one day Old_
_3 days_
_1 week_
_2 weeks_
_3 weeks_
_4 weeks_
_5 weeks_
_6 weeks_
_7 weeks_
_8 weeks_
_9 weeks_
_10 weeks_
_full grown Europeans_
_full grown American_
_G. VanderGucht sculp._
]
A
TREATISE
OF
BUGGS:
SHEWING
When and How they were first brought into _England_. How they are
brought into and infect Houses.
Their Nature, several Foods, Times and Manner of Spawning and
Propagating in this Climate.
Their great INCREASE accounted for, by Proof of the Numbers each Pair
produce in a Season.
REASONS given why all Attempts hitherto made for their Destruction
have proved ineffectual.
VULGAR ERRORS concerning them refuted.
That from _September_ to _March_ is the best Season for their total
Destruction, demonstrated by Reason, and proved by Facts.
Concluding with
DIRECTIONS for such as have them not already, how to avoid them; and
for those that have them, how to destroy them.
By _JOHN SOUTHALL_,
Maker of the Nonpareil Liquor for destroying _Buggs_ and _Nits_,
living at the _Green Posts_ in the _Green Walk_ near _Faulcon-stairs,
Southwark_.
The SECOND EDITION.
_LONDON_: Printed for J. ROBERTS, near the _Oxford-Arms_
in _Warwick-Lane_. M.DCC.XXX.
(Price One Shilling.)
[Illustration]
TO
Sir HANS SLOANE, Bart.
First Physician in Ordinary to His MAJESTY; President of the ROYAL
SOCIETY, and also of the College of Physicians.
_SIR_,
Your ready Condescension to peruse the following Treatise, and to see
the Experiments of my Liquor, both in regard to its bringing out,
and destroying Buggs; as also that of its no ways staining Furniture;
was to me the happy Presage of your Favour, and Approbation of my
Performances.
The Satisfaction of having this Treatise and Experiments approv’d by
You, the Best of Judges, was to me the greatest Honour I could wish
for; but the additional one, confer’d by your introducing me to the
_Royal Society_, and there having not only their unanimous Approbation,
but yours and their Thanks for my Discoveries and Intent of publishing
them, was beyond my Hopes, and a Pleasure so great, as to be past
expressing; in regard that it dissipates all my Fears for its Success,
and makes me justly hope it will meet with a candid Reception from, and
be of general Benefit to the Publick.
As to your Goodness, I must ascribe the happy Prospect of its proving
so, Gratitude obliges me in this manner to acknowledge it; and to be,
_Sir_,
_Your Much-Obliged_,
_And Most Obedient Servant_,
JOHN SOUTHALL.
[Illustration]
THE
PREFACE.
_Being diffident of my own Performance, and desirous it should stand or
fall by the Opinion of the Best of Judges, was the Motive that induced
me to make my Application to that very Learned, truly Judicious and
commendably Curious Person to whom it’s dedicated: At the same time
determining, that if he approv’d of it, I would publish it; and if
he disapprov’d, that I would burn it. But it happily meeting his
Approbation, it now makes its Appearance in Print: Tho’ I must in
Justice to him acknowledge, it could not have so done so soon, nor
with such Embellishments, had he not only forwarded the Impression,
but directed and order’d the Copper-plate. As it has not only his
Approbation, but also, by his introducing it, the unanimous Concurrent
Approbation of (those great Encouragers of things useful) the Royal
Society; I hope it will not fail of meeting a kind Reception from the
Inhabitants in and about this Metropolis; by whom, as such a Treatise,
&c. was most wanted, for their Benefit and Ease it was at first chiefly
design’d._
_Tho’ with such Helps as it now has, I am not without Hopes that it may
extend its Qualities to distant infected Places._
_I should think it a Duty Incumbent on me, and would wait on the
Venerable Members of the aforesaid Society, present when my Manuscript
was read, personally to return them my Thanks for the Honours
conferr’d on me. But as the Names and Places of Abode of most are
unknown to me, I humbly beg they will accept this Acknowledgement of
them, by their_
Obliged and Obedient Servant,
JOHN SOUTHALL.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
A
TREATISE
OF
BUGGS.
As Buggs have been known to be in _England_ above sixty Years, and
every Season increasing so upon us, as to become terrible to almost
every Inhabitant in and about this Metropolis, it were greatly to be
wished that some more learned Person than my self, studious for the
Good of Human Kind, and the Improvement of natural Knowledge, would
have oblig’d the Town with some Treatise, Discourse or Lecture on that
nauseous venomous Insect.
But as none such have attempted it, and I have ever since my return
from _America_ made their destruction my Profession, and was at first
much baffled in my Attempts for want, (as I then believ’d, and have
since found) of truly knowing the Nature of those intolerable Vermin:
I determined by all means possible to try if I could discover and
find out as much of their Nature, Feeding and Breeding, as might be
conducive to my being better able to destroy them.
And tho’ in attempting it I must own I had a View at private Gain, as
well as the publick Good; yet I hope my Design will appear laudable,
and the Event answer both Ends.
The late Learned and truly Valuable Dr. _Woodward_, to whom I first
communicated my Intent, not only approv’d the Design, but also the
Methods which, I told him, I design’d to pursue, to attain the desired
Effects: and at the same time was so good to give me some useful Hints
and Instructions, the better to accomplish an Affair, which he said
’twas his Opinion would be a general Good.
Not to make this Acknowledgement of his kind Assistance, would be
Ingratitude to my dear deceas’d Friend.
As I had his Approbation at the beginning, had he but liv’d till now,
I doubt not but the Discoveries I have made would have appear’d so
considerable and useful, as might have entitled me to his farther
Friendship and Assistance, in methodizing this Treatise for Publication.
But depriv’d of him, my first and greatest Encourager, I have ventur’d
to let it appear in the best Dress my Capacity will admit. Should the
Stile and my Manner of handling the Subject to be treated of, appear
uncouth and displease, I hope the Usefulness of it to the Publick will
make some amends for that Defect.
In treating on these Insects, some part of the Discourse may perhaps
at first View appear surprizing, if not incredible to the Readers:
But by giving them an account how I attain’d my Knowledge, and by
often reiterated Experiments prov’d them to be certain Facts, they
will soon alter their Opinion; and the whole, I hope, will not only
be acceptable, diverting and instructive to the Readers, but also
of universal Benefit to the Inhabitants in and about _London_ and
_Westminster_.
This Treatise being on a Subject as much wanted as any whatever, and
the Pains and Trouble I have taken to arrive at my Knowledge herein,
having been uncommon; it may be expected by the Curious, that I should
give some of the Reasons that first induced me to undertake a Discovery
so very difficult to appearance.
It may not therefore be unnecessary to acquaint such, that in the
Year 1726, my Affairs requiring my going to the _West-Indies_, I
had not been long there arrived, before, (the Climate not agreeing
with my Constitution) I fell sick, had a Complication of the Country
Distempers, lost the Use of my Limbs, and was given over by the best
Physicians at _Kingstown_ in _Jamaica_.
But, contrary to their Expectation, recovering a little, they advis’d
me to stay no longer in a Country, so prejudicial and dangerous to me,
than till I could get Shipping for _England_; and in the mean time
desired that as often as I was able, I would ride out for the Benefit
of the Air; which as soon as I had Strength enough, I did.
In one of my Journeys meeting with an uncommon <DW64>, the Hair or
(rather) Wooll on his Head, Beard, and Breast being as white as Snow,
I stopt my Horse to look on him; and he coming, as their way is, to
beg a little Tobacco, I gave it, and enquir’d if he had been always so
white-hair’d. He answer’d, no; but Age had made him so.
Observing that he moved briskly, had no Wrinkles, and all his Teeth,
I told him I could not believe him to be very old, at the same time
desiring to know his Age. His Answer was, he knew not himself; but
this he knew, that he was one of the first Slaves brought into that
Island, after the _English_ had taken it in _Oliver Cromwell_’s time,
and was then a great Boy.
By this account I judged, and might reasonably suppose him upwards of
ninety Years of Age.
Whilst we were in discourse, he perceiving me often rub and scratch,
where my Face and Eyes were much swelled with Bugg-Bites, asked if
Chintses, (so Buggs are by <DW64>s and some others there called) had
bit me? On my answering, yes; he said, he wonder’d white Men should let
them bite; they should do something to kill them, as he did.
This unexpected Expression excited in me a Curiosity to have farther
Discourse with him; and on my telling him, that for my part I should
be extreme glad to know how to destroy those Disturbers of my Rest,
and that if he would tell me how, I would give him some more Tobacco
and a Bit, (a Piece of _Spanish_ Money, there current at Seven-pence
Half-Penny:) On this he agreed to give me a Calibash full of Liquor,
which he said would certainly do it, following the Directions he gave
me.
Possess’d of this, well pleas’d I went home, and tho’ much fatigued, I
could not forbear using some of it before I went to sleep; and to my
surprize, the instant I applied it, vast Numbers did, (as he had told
me they would) come out of their Holes, and die before my face.
These I swept up, threw away, and went to Bed, and had much better Rest
than usual, not being Bugg-bit then, as I always was before.
But what added to my Satisfaction, and further surpriz’d me, was, that
when I got up I found many more had come out in the Night and were dead.
On this, I conceiv’d so great an Opinion of the Goodness and Usefulness
of this Liquor, that I was resolved to endeavour, and if possible to
prevail on him to teach me how to make it; well knowing so valuable
a Secret was much wanted, and would be highly useful, if I lived to
return to _England_.
In order to obtain it, I got some _English_ Beef, Pork, Biscuit and
Beer, and some Tobacco, believing those sooner than Money or any other
thing would procure from the <DW64>, what I so much wanted and desired.
The next day early I went, and finding my <DW64> in his Hutt, I asked if
he could dress me some Victuals. On his replying, yes, if he had it;
I open’d my Store-Bags, took out one Piece of Beef, some Biscuits and
a Bottle of Beer, taking care at the same time he should see the rest.
We eat a Biscuit, drank some Beer, and to dressing the Beef with some
Yams out of his Plantation, he eagerly went: all <DW64>s being greedy
of Flesh, when they can come at it; some of them not eating any for
many Years together, but live altogether on the Produce of the Earth.
Whilst he was intent on Cooking and in a good Humour, I took the
Opportunity of telling him, I had used and so well approved of his
Liquor, that if he would learn me how to make it, all the Victuals and
Tobacco in the Bags, and what Liquor we did not drink whilst I staid,
I would give to him, as a Recompence for the Favour.
At first he refused, believing me (as I found by his discourse) to be
a _Creolian_, whom the <DW64>s in general hate; but upon my convincing
him I was an _Englishman_, and returning home, the good Chear prevail’d.
After eating together, into the Woods and Savannahs we went, to gather
such of the Materials as grew not on his Plantation, or that he had not
by him; and returning to his Hutt, to making the Liquor he went.
I remark’d well, and set down the Names, Quantities, and his way of
making and mixing the Composition; which being done, all the Bottles we
emptied of Beer were fill’d with the Liquor; with which I return’d to
_Kingstown_, being as well pleas’d with my Discovery, as the <DW64> was
with my Presents.
Having thus obtain’d my most material Point, I could not yet forbear
going every time I rode out, to see and discourse my <DW64>, and never
went empty-handed, being desirous to try if I could discover any thing
further from him or of him, and how he attain’d the great Knowledge I
found he had in the medicinal Virtues of Roots, Plants, _&c._
He inform’d me, that during about fifty Years that he was a Slave (in
which time six of his Masters had died) he oft wish’d for Death, and
sought no means to preserve Life, and was then so infirm, as to be
thought by his seventh Master to be past labour; and having been a good
and faithful Slave, his said Master gave him his Freedom, and the piece
of Ground I found him upon, to live on.
That Liberty having render’d Life more agreeable to him, he then
studied all means to preserve it, and having some knowledge of things
proper to preserve as well as support him, he had ever since planted,
_&c._ in his Plantation, things proper for Physick as well as Food.
And indeed his Ground might be called a Physick-Garden, rather than
a Provision-Plantation; for of the latter he only raised enough to
support himself, of the former to supply others as well as himself, and
frequently made Medicines for his sick Acquaintance and others with
success. This Account I had of him from many, as well as from himself;
which made me entertain so good an opinion of his Skill and Fidelity,
that I ventur’d to take a Medicine made by him, by the use of which I
found great Benefit in the restoring me to the Use of my Limbs.
’Twas owing to his Skill that he had thus preserv’d himself to so great
an Age; and ’tis my Opinion, he had attain’d to a greater knowledge of
the physical Use of the Vegetables of that Country, than any illiterate
Person ever had done before him.
Believing some of the Materials not to be had in _Europe_, I procured
of him a quantity, and soon after returned to _England_.
On my arrival at _London_ in _August_ 1727, I made some Liquor to
compare with his, (which I found exactly the same) whereupon I
set about destroying of Buggs, and found to my Satisfaction, that
wherever I apply’d it, it brought out and kill’d ’em all. At length
I advertis’d, had great business, and pleased every body, then
apprehending no return of the Vermin. But yet, to my surprize, tho’
I had kill’d all the old ones, young ones sometimes, in some places,
would appear.
To my Liquor’s being then so strong and oleous, that I durst not
venture to liquor the Furniture for fear of damaging it, I at first
attributed the coming of those young Buggs.
Whereupon I studied to find an Allay for that Quality; which at length,
after many Experiments, and with much difficulty, I found out, and to
such a perfection, that I can and do with safety liquor the richest
of Furniture, as well as the Wood-work of Beds; and tho’ the staining
Quality be taken off, the valuable attractive and destructive parts of
the Composition still retain their full Virtue.
Having gain’d this great Point, I then went on briskly, and destroyed
Buggs and Nits in all Beds and Furniture wherever I came: But yet Young
Ones from behind Wainscot and out of Walls would sometimes afterwards
appear, get to the Beds for better quarters and food, and become
troublesome.
This much perplex’d me; but these unforeseen and then unknown
Difficulties, which might have discouraged a less enterprizing Genius,
prompted me the more to find the Cause and Means to overcome them;
which I conjectur’d might best be done, by finding their Nature and
Method of Breeding, Feeding, _&c._
In order to it, I enquir’d of many Booksellers, if any Book concerning
them had ever been published; but finding none, I then made it my
business to discourse as many learned, curious, and antient Men as I
possibly could, concerning them; but all that ever I could gather from
either, was the following Account, how and when they were first known
to be brought and to breed in _England_.
_Viz._ “That soon after the Fire of _London_, in some of the new-built
Houses they were observ’d to appear, and were never noted to have been
seen in the old, tho’ they were then so few, as to be little taken
notice of; yet as they were only seen in Firr-Timber, ’twas conjectur’d
they were then first brought to _England_ in them; of which most of the
new Houses were partly built, instead of the good Oak destroy’d in the
old.”
In the above Account of their first coming, Esquire _Pitfield_ and Mr.
_White_, a Chymist, Men of great Probity and Curiosity, agreed.
And as the Sap of Deal is one of their beloved Foods, this probably
might be the first way they were brought. How they are still brought, I
shall speak to more fully hereafter, in my Instructions to avoid them.
Finding no satisfactory Account of their Nature, Breeding, and Feeding,
to be come at from others, I was resolved assiduously to set about
and try all possible ways to attain it myself. My first Step was to
purchase and try Microscopes, and all such Helps as could be got,
and to devise such others as might contribute thereto; by which I am
enabled to give you the following Descriptions of Buggs, _&c._ which
the better to illustrate, is annexed from a Copper-Plate, curiously
engraven by the famous Mr. _Vandergucht_, the different Species and
Sizes of Buggs, as well as one correctly and finely magnified.
I was not so fond of my own Performance, as to think my Treatise
merited so great an Ornament. But as the Learned and Judicious Sir HANS
SLOANE had done me the Honour to peruse and approve of my Manuscript,
and thought it worthy thereof, and also desired and directed the doing
the said Plate by so good a Hand; I should have been wanting to myself,
had I not, in deference and respect to his Opinion and Request,
annex’d the same.
* * * * *
A Bugg’s Body is shaped and shelled, and the Shell as transparent and
finely striped as the most beautiful amphibious Turtle; has six Legs
most exactly shaped, jointed and bristled as the Legs of a Crab. Its
Neck and Head much resembles a Toad’s. On its Head are three Horns
picqued and bristled; and at the end of their Nose they have a Sting
sharper and much smaller than a Bee’s. The Use of their Horns is in
Fight to assail their Enemies, or defend themselves. With the Sting
they penetrate and wound our Skins, and then (tho’ the Wound is so
small as to be almost imperceptible) they thence by Suction extract
their most delicious Food, our Blood. This Sucking the Wound so given,
is what we improperly call biting us.
By often nightly watching and daily observing them with the best of
Helps, having discover’d Males from Females, I determin’d, and then
did put up a Pair in a Glass, as believing that to keep them the Year
round, would be the only and best way to find the Nature of their
breeding, feeding, _&c._ and be a means to discover what had occasion’d
the Difficulties I had met with in my Endeavours and Practice of
destroying them.
As the Thought was _à propos_, and the Event having answer’d
Expectation, I shall now inform you of my Observations and Discoveries
thereby made.
As I put up the Pair aforesaid, so did I another Pair that day
Fortnight, and so every Fortnight for eighteen Months, did I put up
others, with various Foods.
The first, second, third, and fourth Pair lived, but did not presently
breed, it not being then their Season of so doing: But in about ten
Days after I put up the fifth Pair, they all spawn’d much about the
time of each other; and in about three Weeks the Spawn came to life.
Of the Spawn and different Gradations of Buggs, I shall now give you an
exact Account.
The Eggs or Nits are white, and having when spawn’d a clammy glutinous
Substance, they flick to any thing spawn’d upon, and by Heat come to
Maturity and Life. The Eggs are oval, and as small as the smallest
Maw-feed.
Buggs of one day old, are white as Milk.
At three days old, are Cream-colour’d.
At one Week old, are Straw-colour’d.
At two Weeks, are of the same Colour, with a red List down the Back.
At three Weeks, List Copper Colour.
At four Weeks, List Browner.
At five Weeks, List deeper Brown.
At six Weeks, the Sides brown, and the List hardly discernible.
At seven Weeks, they come to be of their proper Colour, all over
brown.
At eight Weeks, they grow bigger.
Nine Weeks, Ditto.
Ten Weeks, Ditto.
At eleven Weeks, they are full grown.
_Vide_ the Plate done from _Europeans_ bred: under which is a single
one longer and larger, than our full-grown, being a full-grown
_American_ bred. ’Tis needless to give the Gradations of that Species,
because when they spawn and breed here, the Young degenerate, and are
of the _European_ Size.
As I wrote down the Time I put up all Pairs for breeding, and also
the Times they spawn’d, and observ’d and set down the Numbers they
generally spawn’d; I found by my account of above forty Pair so put up
with various Foods, not only their best-beloved Foods, but also their
Method of Breeding; of which, to render my Observations of publick
Service, I shall give you an account.
_Viz._ Their beloved Foods are Blood, dry’d Paste, Size, Deal, Beach,
Osier, and some other Woods, the Sap of which they suck; and on any one
of these will they live the Year round.
Oak, Walnut, Cedar and Mahogoney they will not feed upon; all Pairs I
put up with those Woods for Food, having been soon starved to death.
Wild Buggs are watchful and cunning, and tho’ timorous of us, yet in
fight one with another, are very fierce; I having often seen some (that
I brought up from a day old, always inur’d to Light and Company) fight
as eagerly as Dogs or Cocks, and sometimes one or both have died on the
Spot. From those so brought up tame, I made the greatest Discoveries.
They are hot in Nature, generate often, and shoot their Spawn all at
once, and then leave it, as Fish do.
They generally spawn about fifty at a time, of which Spawn about forty
odd in about three Weeks time usually, (but sometimes two or three days
more or less, according as the Weather proves more or less hot) come
to life; the Residue proving addle, as do often the Eggs of Hens, _&c._
Thus they spawn four times in a Season; _viz._ in _March_, _May_,
_July_, and _September_: by which ’tis apparent to a Demonstration,
that from every Pair that lives out the Season, about two hundred Eggs
or Nits are produc’d; and that out of them, one hundred and sixty, or
one hundred and seventy, come to Life and Perfection.
Some of the first Breed I have known to spawn the same Season they were
hatched; but so few in Quantity, and those so weakly, that the Winter
killed them.
I have also observed that in Rooms where constant Fires have been kept
Night and Day, they have been so brisk and stout as to spawn in the
Depth of Winter: but of all the Spawn I ever saw between _September_
and _March_, not one ever came to Life.
This plainly evinces, that Natural Heat only produces Life in the
Spawn, and that Artificial cannot.
* * * * *
Thus having shewn plainly the Number each Pair annually produce, I hope
their great Increase is so sufficiently accounted for, that it need no
more be wonder’d at.
And having also shewn their seven Months Season of Breeding, if ’tis
admitted, as I think ’tis plainly apparent, that in the other five
Months, _viz._ from _September_ to _March_, when there is no such thing
as Spawn but what is addle, and consequently cannot come to Maturity;
it then naturally follows, that the Winter is the best Season for their
total Destruction: which I shall make more fully appear presently, but
must first refute two vulgar Errors.
The first is, That many People imagine they are dead in Winter. This
is a Notion so absurd, that it would hardly be worth mentioning, had I
not by Experience found it had prevail’d with many People of Sense and
Learning, as well as the Vulgar and Illiterate. The many Experiments
by me shown at the Hospitals in the hardest Frosts last Winter, and in
the Houses of the Nobility and Gentry, and to Sir HANS SLOANE the 30th
of _December_ 1729, will, I hope, be deem’d a sufficient Refutation of
that Error: For in the coldest Seasons the Application of my Liquor
with a Feather only, made the Vermin bolt out of their Holes, and die
before their faces.
This they will do all the Year round in the coldest or hottest
Weather. And I have seen, and do assert, they do bite in the cold
as well as hot Seasons: but as our Blood is not so apt to inflame in
Winter as in Summer, their Bites make but little Impression, and are
consequently the less regarded.
The second and most prevailing Error is, That Buggs bite some Persons,
and not others: When in Reality they bite every Human Body that comes
in their way; and this I will undertake plainly to demonstrate by
Reason.
It is generally observ’d and granted, that a Person under an ill Habit
of Body, if he receives a small Cut or Wound, so slight as to be at
first thought a Trifle, such Person’s Wound by reason of such ill Habit
shall be attended with Inflammations and other dangerous Symptons,
and be longer under Cure than Wounds, which when first receiv’d were
larger, and consequently thought more dangerous. These Wounds shall be
immediately healed on Persons in good Habit of Body, such good Habit
preventing any Inflammations.
And as Fevers, and Swellings attending and prolonging the Cure of
Fractures, are accounted for the same way; why may it not by the same
parity of Reason be admitted, that the Bite or Wound of a Bugg should
swell and inflame such only whose Blood is out of order; and tho’ they
do bite, cause no Inflammations on any in right order of Blood?
The best Reason which can be given in support of this Error, is, That
where two Persons lie in one Bed, one shall be apparently bit, the
other not.
Buggs indeed, where there are two Sorts, may feed most on that Blood
which best pleases their Palate; but that they do taste the other
also, to me is apparent: And whenever that Bedfellow who is most
liked by Buggs shall lie from home, the other will so sensibly feel
the effects to be as above, that they will no longer think themselves
bite-free.
Of this I am sensible, that I daily am bit when practising and at work
in my Business, destroying them; and as they never swell me but when
out of order, from thence I infer, that not only myself, but all such
who are among Buggs, and do not swell with their Bites, are certainly
in good Habit of Body. But to return to my Subject.
Having shewn that they not only live in Winter, but asserted that to be
the best Season for their total Destruction, I must further observe,
that few People caring to trouble themselves about Buggs but when they
themselves are troubled by them, having confin’d the Attempts for
their Destruction chiefly to the Breeding-Season, has been the sole
Reason why the best Efforts for their Destruction have fail’d.
I do admit innumerable Quantities have been destroy’d, and much good
has and may be done in Summer: but should every old Bugg then be
destroy’d, you are yet not safe; for the Nits behind Wainscot and in
Walls, which cannot be come at, will by heat come to life, and your
work is partly to be done over again.
Whereas, on the contrary, if cleared out of Spawning-time, there is a
certainty, as there is then no Nits, that their Offspring cannot plague
you | 2,294.662975 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.7384500 | 1,450 | 9 |
Produced by Thierry Alberto, Henry Craig and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE TEMPTATION
OF
ST. ANTONY
OR,
_A REVELATION OF THE SOUL_
BY
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT
_VOLUME VII._
SIMON P. MAGEE
PUBLISHER
CHICAGO, ILL.
COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY
M. WALTER DUNNE
_Entered at Stationers' Hall, London_
CONTENTS
THE TEMPTATION OF ST. ANTONY
CHAPTER I. PAGE
A HOLY SAINT 1
CHAPTER II.
THE TEMPTATION OF LOVE AND POWER 16
CHAPTER III.
THE DISCIPLE, HILARION 40
CHAPTER IV.
THE FIERY TRIAL 48
CHAPTER V.
ALL GODS, ALL RELIGIONS 99
CHAPTER VI.
THE MYSTERY OF SPACE 143
CHAPTER VII.
THE CHIMERA AND THE SPHINX 151
ILLUSTRATIONS
TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTONY
FACING PAGE
"DO NOT RESIST, I AM OMNIPOTENT!" (See page 157) _Frontispiece_
HE LETS GO THE TORCH IN ORDER TO EMBRACE THE HEAP 26
The Temptation _of_ Saint Antony
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
A HOLY SAINT.
It is in the Thebaid, on the heights of a mountain, where a platform,
shaped like a crescent, is surrounded by huge stones.
The Hermit's cell occupies the background. It is built of mud and reeds,
flat-roofed and doorless. Inside are seen a pitcher and a loaf of black
bread; in the centre, on a wooden support, a large book; on the ground,
here and there, bits of rush-work, a mat or two, a basket and a knife.
Some ten paces or so from the cell a tall cross is planted in the
ground; and, at the other end of the platform, a gnarled old palm-tree
leans over the abyss, for the side of the mountain is scarped; and at
the bottom of the cliff the Nile swells, as it were, into a lake.
To right and left, the view is bounded by the enclosing rocks; but, on
the side of the desert, immense undulations of a yellowish ash-colour
rise, one above and one beyond the other, like the lines of a sea-coast;
while, far off, beyond the sands, the mountains of the Libyan range form
a wall of chalk-like whiteness faintly shaded with violet haze. In
front, the sun is going down. Towards the north, the sky has a
pearl-grey tint; while, at the zenith, purple clouds, like the tufts of
a gigantic mane, stretch over the blue vault. These purple streaks grow
browner; the patches of blue assume the paleness of mother-of-pearl. The
bushes, the pebbles, the earth, now wear the hard colour of bronze, and
through space floats a golden dust so fine that it is scarcely
distinguishable from the vibrations of light.
Saint Antony, who has a long beard, unshorn locks, and a tunic of
goatskin, is seated, cross-legged, engaged in making mats. No sooner has
the sun disappeared than he heaves a deep sigh, and gazing towards the
horizon:
"Another day! Another day gone! I was not so miserable in former times
as I am now! Before the night was over, I used to begin my prayers; then
I would go down to the river to fetch water, and would reascend the
rough mountain pathway, singing a hymn, with the water-bottle on my
shoulder. After that, I used to amuse myself by arranging everything in
my cell. I used to take up my tools, and examine the mats, to see
whether they were evenly cut, and the baskets, to see whether they were
light; for it seemed to me then that even my most trifling acts were
duties which I performed with ease. At regulated hours I left off my
work and prayed, with my two arms extended. I felt as if a fountain of
mercy were flowing from Heaven above into my heart. But now it is dried
up. Why is this?..."
He proceeds slowly into the rocky enclosure.
"When I left home, everyone found fault with me. My mother sank into a
dying state; my sister, from a distance, made signs to me to come back;
and the other one wept, Ammonaria, that child whom I used to meet every
evening, beside the cistern, as she was leading away her cattle. She ran
after me. The rings on her feet glittered in the dust, and her tunic,
open at the hips, fluttered in the wind. The old ascetic who hurried me
from the spot addressed her, as we fled, in loud and menacing tones.
Then our two camels kept galloping continuously, till at length every
familiar object had vanished from my sight.
"At first, I selected for my abode the tomb of one of the Pharaohs. But
some enchantment surrounds those subterranean palaces, amid whose gloom
the air is stifled with the decayed odour of aromatics. From the depths
of the sarcophagi I heard a mournful voice arise, that called me by
name--or rather, as it seemed to me, all the fearful pictures on the
walls started into hideous life. Then I fled to the borders of the Red
Sea into a citadel in ruins. There I had for companions the scorpions
that crawled amongst the stones, and, overhead, the eagles who were
continually whirling across the azure sky. At night, I was torn by
talons, bitten by beaks, or brushed with light wings; and horrible
demons, yelling in my ears, hurled me to the earth. At last, the drivers
of a caravan, which was journeying towards Alexandria, rescued me, and
carried me along with them.
"After this, I became a pupil of the venerable Didymus. Though he was
blind, no one equalled him in knowledge of the Scriptures. When our
lesson was ended, he used to take my arm, and, with my aid, ascend the
Panium, from whose summit could | 2,294.75849 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.7394000 | 2,331 | 14 | THE FAR EAST, VOL. II (OF 2)***
E-text prepared by Brian Coe, Graeme Mackreth, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/militaryservicea02cavauoft
Project Gutenberg has the other volume of this work.
Volume I: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55844
MILITARY SERVICE AND ADVENTURES IN THE FAR EAST:
Including Sketches of the Campaigns
Against the Afghans in 1839,
and the Sikhs in 1845-6.
BY A CAVALRY OFFICER.
In Two Volumes.
VOL. II.
London:
Charles Ollier,
Southampton Street, Strand.
1847.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER I.
The commander-in-chief returns to England--Disastrous
insurrection throughout Afghanistan--Jellalabad holds
out, and General Pollock advances upon Caubul p. 1
CHAPTER II.
Visit to Agra--Journey through Central India via Gwalior
and Indore to Bombay 16
CHAPTER III.
Arrival in Calcutta--Departure for the south-western frontier--Arrival
at Merut--State of affairs on the north-western
frontier--The Sikh military establishment--The British
position 37
CHAPTER IV.
The British forces--The Sikh army cross the Sutlej--The
battle of Moodkee--Position and operations considered 65
CHAPTER V.
The army advance to attack the Sikhs in their entrenched
camp at Ferozeshuhur--The actions of the 21st and 22nd
of December--Sikhs retreat behind the Sutlej--Observations 91
CHAPTER VI.
Assemblage of the British forces on the Sutlej--Sikhs
threaten to recross--Sir Harry Smith detached towards
Loodiana--Skirmish near Buddewal 133
CHAPTER VII.
Sir Harry Smith advances to attack the Sikhs in their camp--The
battle of Aliwal--The enemy defeated and driven
across the river--Observations 163
CHAPTER VIII.
Sir Harry Smith's division march to rejoin the head-quarters
of the army--Preparations to eject the enemy from their
position on the British side of the river 207
CHAPTER IX.
The battle of Sobraon--The enemy defeated and driven
across the river with enormous loss 223
CHAPTER X.
The British forces cross the Sutlej, and are concentrated at
Kussoor--Visit of Ghoolab Singh and Dhuleep Singh to
the Governor-general--The army advance to Lahore--The
Sikh army disperse, and surrender their guns 249
CHAPTER XI.
Ratification of the treaty--Observations on the effects likely
to be produced thereby--Conclusion 269
MILITARY SERVICE
IN THE FAR EAST.
CHAPTER I.
THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF RETURNS TO ENGLAND--DISASTROUS INSURRECTION
THROUGHOUT AFGHANISTAN--JELLALABAD HOLDS OUT, AND GENERAL POLLOCK
ADVANCES UPON CAUBUL.
After the breaking up of the army of the Indus, Sir John Keane
proceeded down the Indus, and shortly afterwards embarked for England,
where those honours, titles, and pecuniary rewards awaited him, which
would have entitled him to the appellation of one of the most fortunate
soldiers who ever acquired laurels in India--had he survived long to
enjoy the distinction.
Fortunate, indeed, may Sir John Keane be termed, in having brought to
an apparently successful conclusion a campaign which was founded in
error and injustice, and placed in the hands of the commander-in-chief
with the fullest assurance of the directing arm of Providence leading
the small band through a country of which the little that was known
should have induced a supposition that an army provided with an
insufficient amount of supplies must meet with enormous difficulties.
By some unaccountable fatality, the Afghans neglected the advantages
thus afforded them, and thereby induced a supposition that the warlike
spirit of the tribes who had overrun and conquered Hindostan had
departed for ever; and that a handful of British soldiers would be
sufficient to maintain possession of a country inhabited by a nation
whose hands were fitted at their birth to the cimeter, and whose eyes,
when capable of distinguishing objects with accuracy, were directed
along the barrel of a rifle.
Trusting, doubtless, in the resources of their monarch to repel the
British invasion, no coalition was formed amongst the mountain tribes;
but when the abhorred Feringhee had seized their king and established
himself in the land of their fathers, and when, moreover, they beheld
him, lulled into security, break up his forces and march the greater
portion of his army homewards through the jaws of the tremendous
portals of Afghanistan, the lighted torch flew with resolute speed
from the valley of Quetta to the mountains of Kohistan. The Ghilzie,
whose heel had been bruised, but whose arm was not unnerved, roused
his brethren to vengeance, and the eloquence of Akbar, pleading for
the diadem which had been snatched from his ambitious hopes, found a
responsive echo in the heart of every true Barukzye.
A tribe of insolent plunderers had established themselves in the Khoord
Caubul, and had the audacity to interfere with the letter-carriers.
The gallant Sale, with his brigade, hastened to brush these intruders
from the surface of the mountains, but the band of robbers had swollen
to an army; and though, by desperate valour and unwearied exertion, a
passage was forced through every obstacle, yet the passes closed upon
the isolated brigade, and the communication with the ill-fated garrison
of Caubul was cut off for ever.
Red with the slaughter of their enemies, and faint from their own
wounds, the wearied band of soldiers, under Sale, threw themselves
into Jellalabad. Then burst the startling intelligence over the plains
of India that an insurrection had broken out amongst the far-distant
mountains of Afghanistan, and that our fellow-soldiers were ill
provided with sustenance, short of ammunition, and enveloped amongst
countless swarms of enemies. I will not enter minutely on the details
of that insurrection, which shook the fabric of our Eastern power
to its centre, brought unmerited obloquy on the British name, and
entailed the most harrowing series of disasters on the hapless army in
Afghanistan that England's history can record in her military annals.
The task of recapitulating the succession of horrors which took place
in Caubul has been undertaken by eye-witnesses and sufferers from the
small remnant of the Caubul garrison who escaped.
Amongst that catalogue of miseries and massacre we have the consolatory
reflection that the Afghans found no grounds to assert that the
British, though worn with toil, and pierced by incessant cold,
derogated in aught from their national fame. From the first struggle on
leaving the entrenched camp at Caubul, unto the final catastrophe at
Gundamuk, the Afghans were cautious of meeting our fellow-countrymen
at close quarters. When they tried the experiment, led by the alluring
satisfaction of revelling in Feringhee gore, they found that, although
heart-broken and disorganized, the Briton was ever ready to die facing
his enemy. Peace to the manes of those maligned and hapless warriors,
whose bones are bleaching on every height and valley of that rugged
desolation (fit scene for such a catastrophe) which disfigures the
face of the country, from the gates of the Bala Hissar to the walls
of Jellalabad! And, peace to the ashes of the worthy and amiable
Elphinstone! It rested not with him that, suffering under bodily
weakness and worn by mental anxieties in his arduous command, he should
have lived to end his honourable days in an enemy's camp. The soldier
has no choice but to obey the authority which places him in command,
and those authorities are answerable to their countrymen for the
selection.
But the British power fell not with her general and his army. Kandahar
was held with security in the iron grasp of Nott.[1] The little
garrison of Khelat-i-Ghilzie held resolutely their post against the
repeated and determined attacks of their blood-thirsty foe; and the
haughty Akbar, with the bravest of his mountain tribes, was checked in
his murderous career under the walls of Jellalabad. The "illustrious
garrison" maintained their isolated post against cold, starvation, the
overwhelming mass of vaunting Afghans, and against the convulsions
of nature when an earthquake cast down their fortifications and left
no artificial barrier, beyond their weapons, between the hordes of
Afghanistan and Sale's devoted band.
Vain were the efforts made by the Native Infantry Brigade, from
Peshawur, to force the passage of the Khyber, for the spirit of those
savage mountaineers was roused; every hill was watched with untiring
vigilance, and the two regiments which penetrated to Ali Musjid had
little cause to congratulate themselves on their undertaking. At
length, the "avenging army," under the guidance of General Pollock,
having traversed the Punjaub with rapid strides, arrived at the gorge
of the Khyber, and joyfully received the tidings of Jellalabad being
still in the hands of Sale.
Resting awhile to give breath to his soldiers, and to see his army
properly equipped, the gallant general (armed with full discretionary
power from the noble and sagacious Ellenborough, whose strong arm now
guided the helm of India) prepared to advance. From every village
and fastness of the gloomy Khyber the gathering call had gone
forth, and the ready mountaineers hastened to the defence of their
hereditary defiles; but their haste was of no avail, for the Britons
were advancing to save their gallant countrymen, to retaliate on the
authors of the Caubul atrocities, and to | 2,294.75944 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.7407530 | 204 | 14 |
E-text prepared by Al Haines
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 25670-h.htm or 25670-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/5/6/7/25670/25670-h/25670-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/5/6/7/25670/25670-h.zip)
SEA-DOGS ALL!
A Tale of Forest and Sea
by
TOM BEVAN
Author of
"Red Dickon the Outlaw,"
"The Fen Robbers,"
etc., etc.
[Frontispiece: Dolly stood near the fire, her face rosy with the heat]
Thomas Nelson and Sons
London, Edinburgh, Dublin, and New York
1911
CONTENTS.
I. The Man in Black
II. The | 2,294.760793 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.8399900 | 2,491 | 19 |
Produced by Al Haines
INDIAN AND
OTHER TALES
By M. L. HOPE
Toronto
William Briggs
1911
Copyright, Canada, 1911,
By M. L. Hope.
{5}
INDIAN AND OTHER TALES
O beautiful wind of the West,
In your wand'rings o'er land and sea,
What have you seen in your quest?
Come, tell your story to me.
In the isles of the southern seas,
Where the crystal-clear ocean a melody sang
To the beautiful kauri trees,
I wandered the summer day through,
In the forest's dappled shade,
Where the graceful fern-tree bowed its head
To woo the Maori maid.
A nymph of the woods was she
In her kiwi mantle brown;
And the fern-tree wooed her with tender grace
From dawn till the sun went down;
But a Maori chieftain came
In the glory of life's young morn,
And the maiden forsook her mystic love,
Leaving it sad and forlorn.
But the tui-bird saw its grief,
And in loving sympathy
Built her beautiful, woven nest
In the heart of the lonely tree.
{6}
And when its liquid notes echoed the woodland through,
The fern-tree lifted its drooping head
And was fresh as the morning dew;
So I left them in their joy--the youth and his fairy bride,
The tree with its nest of callow birds--
And I crossed the ocean tide.
In the early morn I came to a land where the orchards were white
With their wealth of apple blossoms, and bathed in the spring sunlight;
There I found a winding road with banks where the wild-flowers grew,
And through a vista of blossoming trees the sea came into view,
As it sparkled in the sun and kissed the golden shore,
Then laughed aloud in its mirth and ran back to the sea once more.
And again I wandered on, until in the twilight dim
I came where the scent of the wattle seemed the incense to Nature's hymn,
For a brooding peace lay o'er land and sea
As I sank to rest in a blue gum-tree,
And when I awoke in the dawn, the dew lay on vineyards green,
{7}
Where they nestled in valleys of red-hued loam;
And a river whose fount was a cascade clear,
Which burst from the brow of a mountain near,
Wended its way through the verdant land,
Till it reached at last the ocean strand,
Where it lost itself in the waters deep,
And only the mermaids saw it leap
With joy, as it reached the Garden of Sleep.
And still I wandered on until I came to tropical seas,
Where the odors of spices were wafted afar by every passing breeze;
And in the pearly light of the coming day
I saw the feathery bamboo groves, where the elephant loves to stray;
I heard his mighty trump, as he waked from his dream,
And the sound of women's voices as they wended their way to the stream;
A laughing, chattering throng, they passed me on their way
To bathe in the limpid waters, ere the sun held his sovereign sway.
I followed a Purple Emperor to the cinnamon gardens near,
Then chased a laughing rickshaw boy, and whispered in his ear;
What the secret was I may not tell,
But the rickshaw boy seemed to know it well.
{8}
Then I left behind me this island fair,
With its wondrous charm and fragrant air,
And ere night had fallen had crossed the sea,
And come to the land of the banyan tree,
Where nature is wrapped in mystery deep,
And the gods in the cups of the Lotus-flower sleep;
And even my spirit felt its spell,
For I scarcely breathed as the twilight fell;
And when o'er the palm-trees and temples fair
The crescent moon hung in the evening air,
And from shadowy doorways and wayside shrines near
The chant of the Koran fell on my ear;
Still more did its mystery my spirit fill,
For I felt that I only could breathe and be still.
And so on to the Isles of the West I roam,
Which the hearts of the exiles ever call home;
And I think that the primrose and hare-bells blue
Are emblems of hearts that are ever true,
And the shamrock doth also with elfin grace
Claim for itself in my heart a place;
So I whisper them each that no fairer land
Have I found in my wanderings from strand to strand;
They each have their charm and magic spell,
And loving hearts in each one doth dwell.
----------
{9}
It was night and the tired villagers were wrapped in sleep;
Only within her lonely hut did a mother her vigil keep.
All day she had toiled and labored, carrying bricks and stone,
While her child lay sick with fever, and uttered his weary moan.
Oft she had paused in her work, and in soft, caressing tone
Had soothed his plaintive crying, then gone back to her work alone,
And now, though tired and weary, and heavy her eyes with sleep,
She sat and nursed her baby with a mother love true and deep;
And when with a last little cry he turned in her arms and was still,
She knew that no more would his baby love the place in her
hard life fill.
She was only a coolie mother, but her heart was heavy with pain,
For she knew that she never would clasp her child in her
lonely arms again.
What had mattered the daily toil in the heat of the burning sun,
When she knew that she had her little one to caress when
the day was done?
To you he was only a coolie child with his baby limbs dimpled and bare,
But now he is one of those favored ones who are safe in
their Saviour's care.
----------
{10}
The highway was hot and dusty, oppressive the air;
The sun on the tired bullocks beat down with pitiless glare.
Mere living skeletons were they, their worn-out hides scarce covering
their aching bones;
Hunger and thirst were their daily lot, while many a cruel blow
Forced them to drag their heavy load, though weary their gait and slow;
The look in their eyes was pitiful, so full of helpless pain,
While ever the cruel driver showered his blows like rain.
Have ye no heart, ye men of the East, that ye treat dumb creatures so?
Does it help you to bear your own weary lot to add to their tale of woe?
Bruised and maim, half-blind, and halt, you drive them until they drop!
Oh, had I the power I would wield it, such cruelty to stop;
When I see you <DW8> them with pointed stick, my soul cries in
answering pain;
Oh, why will you treat your oxen so, and give to your land this stain?
----------
{11}
Tired out with the heat and the burden of day,
And the miles I have walked 'neath the sun's fierce ray,
I think with delight of the bungalow dim,
And how I shall fill my long glass to the brim;
But when I arrive all is empty and bare,
The khansamah has gone to his evening prayer.
I think I will rest on the charpoi awhile,
But the mosquitoes turn out in most welcoming style;
I then in despair do betake me outside,
Still to find I am helpless to stem their fierce tide.
But wait, there's still balm for my weary soul--
I take out my pipe and fill up the bowl,
And for a few moments I have a respite,
But, oh, I'd be glad of my supper to-night.
But presently cometh mine host of the inn,
And soon from the murghi's there issues a din,
The heartless khansamah he cares not a jot,
The dechie is here, but the murghi is not.
And though it is tough, and not cooked with great care,
I am not in a mood to complain of my fare.
You may think that travelling hath its delights,
But wait till you've spent a few weary nights
In a dak-bungalow, empty and bare,
With no punka coolie to answer your prayer,
Then I'm sure you'll agree that a pleasanter lot
Is to live in a place where dak-bungalows are not.
----------
{12}
Again a dak-bungalow is the theme of my lay,
But now it is cool, and the close of the day
Finds me seated outside in my long-armed chair,
My report to the Burra Sahib now to prepare,
But, oh, ye great gods, what a discordant din
Doth break on the peace and contentment within!
A horde of wild monkeys the compound invade,
Of every color and age and grade.
A venerable sage cometh close to my chair
As though he intended my labors to share.
But his better-half thinks she has by far the best right
To my paper and pens, should I guard them less tight;
So she sends him off flying with a howl of pain,
Then comes back and watches my efforts again;
Meanwhile, the rest of the tribe chatter and grin,
Until I think I am being turned outside in.
Oh, where are my dreams of peace and delight--
A peg and a smoke in the cool of the night?
Their noise and their chatter drive all peace away,
And make we feel minded those monkeys to slay;
But when I start up and with a stone take a shot,
The compound is bare, and the monkeys have got;
They have vanished away like the mist in the sun;
And, well, after all, they were only in fun.
----------
{13}
It was May in the dear old homeland,
And the woods and valleys green
Were a vision of radiant beauty,
For summer now reigned as queen.
The lark sang high in the heavens,
Filling the air with song,
And the thrush with its liquid melody
Was glad as the day was long.
The brooks through the meadows rippled,
Reflecting the sun's bright ray;
And the whole earth joined in singing
To the summer a welcoming lay.
May, in an Eastern city, under burning skies,
Where many a weary exile for the dear old homeland cries;
Only those know the longing and pain
Who have spent long years on the sun-dried plain,
Whom days of toil under a pitiless sun
Have robbed of hope ere the race was won.
Those who each year are free to go
To the hills where the cooling breezes blow;
Where they see afar off the snow-clad peaks,
And nature in all her beauty speaks,
Of the weary striving know but the least,
For they see but the bright side of life in the East.
----------
{14}
| 2,294.86003 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.8419810 | 127 | 7 |
A Thief in the Night
[A Book of Raffles' Adventures]
by
E. W. Hornung
Contents
Out of Paradise
The Chest of Silver
The Rest Cure
The Criminologists' Club
The Field of Phillipi
A Bad Night
A Trap to Catch a Cracksman
The Spoils of Sacrilege
The Raffles Relics
Out of Paradise
If I must tell more tales of Raffles, I can but back to our earliest
days together, and fill in the blanks left by discretion in existing
annals | 2,294.862021 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.8428820 | 4,361 | 14 |
Produced by Jason Isbell, Chris Jordan 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.)
BENTLEY'S
MISCELLANY.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1837.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
ADDRESS.
Twelve months have elapsed since we first took the field, and every
successive number of our Miscellany has experienced a warmer reception,
and a more extensive circulation, than its predecessor.
In the opening of the new year, and the commencement of our new volume,
we hope to make many changes for the better, and none for the worse;
and, to show that, while we have one grateful eye to past patronage,
we have another wary one to future favours; in short, that, like the
heroine of the sweet poem descriptive of the faithlessness and perjury
of Mr. John Oakhum, of the Royal Navy, we look two ways at once.
It is our intention to usher in the new year with a very merry
greeting, towards the accomplishment of which end we have prevailed
upon a long procession of distinguished friends to mount their hobbies
on the occasion, in humble imitation of those adventurous and
aldermanic spirits who gallantly bestrode their foaming chargers on the
memorable ninth of this present month, while
"The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Cheapside were mad."
These, and a hundred other great designs, preparations, and surprises,
are in contemplation, for the fulfilment of all of which we are already
bound in two volumes cloth, and have no objection, if it be any
additional security to the public, to stand bound in twenty more.
BOZ.
30th November, 1837.
CONTENTS
OF THE
SECOND VOLUME.
SONGS of the Month--July, by "Father Prout;" August; September, by
"Father Prout;" October, by J.M.; November, by C.D.; December, by
Punch Pages 1, 109, 213, 321, 429, 533
Papers by Boz:
Oliver Twist, or the Parish Boy's Progress, 2, 110, 215, 430, 534
The Mudfog Association for the Advancement of Everything 397
Poetry by Mrs. Cornwell Baron Wilson:
Elegiac Stanzas 16
Lady Blue's Ball 380
My Father's Old Hall 453
Fictions of the Middle Ages: The Butterfly Bishop, by Delta 17
A New Song to the Old Tune of Kate Kearney 25
What Tom Binks did when he didn't know what to do with himself 26
A Gentleman Quite 36
The Foster-Child 37
The White Man's Devil-house, by F.H. Rankin 46
A Lyric for Lovers 50
The Remains of Hajji Baba, by the Author of "Zohrab" 51,166
Shakspeare Papers, by Dr. Maginn:
No. III. Romeo 57
IV. Midsummer Night's Dream--Bottom the Weaver 370
V. His Ladies--Lady Macbeth 550
The Piper's Progress, by Father Prout 67
Papers by J.A. Wade:
No. II. Darby the Swift 68
III. The Darbiad 464
Song of the Old Bell 196
Serenade to Francesca 239
Phelim O'Toole's Nine Muse-ings on his Native County 319
Papers by Captain Medwin:
The Duel 76
Mascalbruni 254
The Last of the Bandits 585
The Monk of Ravenne 81
A Marine's Courtship, by M. Burke Honan 82
Family Stories, by Thomas Ingoldsby:
No. VI. Mrs. Botherby's Story--The Leech of Folkestone 91
VII. Patty Morgan the Milkmaid's Story--Look at the Clock 207
What though we were Rivals of yore, by T. Haynes Bayly 124
Papers by the Author of "Stories of Waterloo:"
Love in the City 125
The Regatta, No. I.: Run Across Channel 299
Legends--of Ballar; the Church of the Seven; and the Tory
Islanders 527
Three Notches from the Devil's Tail, or the Man in the Spanish
Cloak, by the Author of "Reminiscences of a Monthly Nurse" 135
The Serenade 149
The Portrait Gallery, by the Author of "The Bee Hive"
No. III. The Cannon Family 150
IV. Journey to Boulogne 454
A Chapter on Laughing 163
A Muster-chaunt for the Members of the Temperance Societies 165
My Uncle: a Fragment 175
Why the Wind blows round St. Paul's, by Joyce Jocund 176
Papers by C. Whitehead:
Rather Hard to Take 181
The Narrative of John Ward Gibson 240
Nights at Sea, by the Old Sailor:
No. IV. The French Captain's Story 183
V. The French Captain's Story 471
VI. Jack among the Mummies 610
Midnight Mishaps, by Edward Mayhew 197
The Dream 206
Genius, or the Dog's-meat Dog, by Egerton Webbe 214
The Poisoners of the Seventeenth Century, by George Hogarth:
No. I. The Marchioness de Brinvilliers 229
II. Sir Thomas Overbury 322
Smoke 268
Some Passages in the Life of a Disappointed Man 270
The Professor, by Goliah Gahagan 277
Biddy Tibbs, who cared for Nobody, by H. Holl 288
The Key of Granada 303
Glorvina, the Maid of Meath, by J. Sheridan Knowles 304
An Excellent Offer, by Marmaduke Blake 340
The Autobiography of a Good Joke 354
The Secret, by M. Paul de Kock 360
The Man with the Club-foot 381
A Remonstratory Ode to Mr. Cross on the Eruption of Mount Vesuvius,
by Joyce Jocund 413
Memoirs of Beau Nash 414
Grub-street News 425
The Confessions of an Elderly Gentleman 445
The Relics of St. Pius 462
A few Inquiries 470
Lines occasioned by the Death of Count Borowlaski 484
A Chapter on Widows 485
Petrarch in London 494
Adventures in Paris, by Toby Allspy:
The Five Floors No. I. 495; No. II. 575
Martial in Town 507
Astronomical Agitation--Reform of the Solar System 508
The Adventures of a Tale, by Mrs. Erskine Norton 511
When and Why the Devil Invented Brandy 518
The Wit in spite of Himself, by Richard Johns 521
The Apportionment of the World, from Schiller 549
Ode to the Queen 568
Suicide 569
The Glories of Good Humour 591
Song of the Modern Time 594
Capital Punishments in London Eighty Years ago--Earl Ferrers 595
A Peter Pindaric to and of a Fog, by Punch 606
The Castle by the Sea 623
Legislative Nomenclature 624
Nobility in Disguise, by Dudley Costello 626
Another Original of "Not a Drum was heard," 632
Index 633
ILLUSTRATIONS.
BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
Page
Oliver Twist--The Dodger's way of going to work 2
A Marine's Courtship 82
Oliver Twist recovering from the fever 110
Midnight Mishaps 197
Oliver Twist and his affectionate Friends 215
A Disappointed Man 270
The Autobiography of a Good Joke 354
The Secret 360
Oliver Twist returns to the Jew's den 430
The Confessions of an Elderly Gentleman 445
Oliver Twist instructed by the Dodger 533
Jack among the Mummies 610
Portrait of Beau Nash, by W. Greatbach 414
BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.
SONG OF THE MONTH. No. VII.
July, 1837.
BEING A BAPTISMAL CHAUNT FOR THE BIRTH OF OUR SECOND VOLUME, AS SUNG
(IN CHARACTER) BY FATHER PROUT.
(Tune "_The groves of Blarney_.")
"Ille ego qui quondam," &c. &c.--_AEneid._
I.
In the month of Janus,
When Boz to gain us,
Quite "miscellaneous,"
Flashed his wit so keen,
One, (Prout they call him,)
In style most solemn,
Led off the volume
Of his magazine.
II.
Though MAGA,'mongst her
Bright set of youngsters,
Had many songsters
For her opening tome;
Yet she would rather
Invite "the Father,"
And an indulgence gather
From the Pope of Rome.
III.
And, such a beauty
From head to shoe-tie,
Without dispute we
Found her first boy,
That she det_a_rmined,
There's such a charm in 't,
The Father's _sarmint_
She'd again employ.
IV.
While other children
Are quite bewilderin',
'Tis joy that fill'd her in
This bantling; 'cause
What eye but glistens,
And what ear but listens,
When the clargy christens
A babe of Boz?
V.
I've got a scruple
That this young pupil
Surprised its parent
Ere her time was sped;
Else I'm unwary,
Or, 'tis she's a fairy,
For in January
She was brought to bed.
VI.
This infant may be
A six months' baby,
But may his cradle
Be blest! say I;
And luck defend him!
And joy attend him!
Since we can't mend him,
Born in July.
VII.
He's no abortion,
But born to fortune,
And most opportune,
Though before his time;
Him, Muse, O! nourish,
And make him flourish
Quite Tommy-Moorish
Both in prose and rhyme!
VIII.
I remember, also,
That this month they call so,
From Roman JULIUS
The "_Caesarian_" styled;
Who was no gosling,
But, like this Boz-ling,
From birth a dazzling
And precocious child!
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!
OLIVER TWIST;
OR, THE PARISH BOY'S PROGRESS.
BY BOZ.
ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
CHAPTER THE NINTH.
CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT OLD GENTLEMAN,
AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS.
It was late next morning when Oliver awoke from a sound, long sleep.
There was nobody in the room beside, but the old Jew, who was boiling
some coffee in a saucepan for breakfast, and whistling softly to
himself as he stirred it round and round with an iron spoon. He would
stop every now and then to listen when there was the least noise below;
and, when he had satisfied himself, he would go on whistling and
stirring again, as before.
Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he was not thoroughly
awake. There is a drowsy, heavy state, between sleeping and waking,
when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half open, and
yourself half conscious of everything that is passing around you, than
you would in five nights with your eyes fast closed, and your senses
wrapt in perfect unconsciousness. At such times, a mortal knows just
enough of what his mind is doing to form some glimmering conception of
its mighty powers, its bounding from earth and spurning time and space,
when freed from the irksome restraint of its corporeal associate.
Oliver was precisely in the condition I have described. He saw the Jew
with his half-closed eyes, heard his low whistling, and recognised the
sound of the spoon grating against the saucepan's sides; and yet the
self-same senses were mentally engaged at the same time, in busy action
with almost everybody he had ever known.
When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to the hob, and,
standing in an irresolute attitude for a few minutes as if he did not
well know how to employ himself, turned round and looked at Oliver, and
called him by his name. He did not answer, and was to all appearance
asleep.
After satisfying himself upon this head, the Jew stepped gently to the
door, which he fastened; he then drew forth, as it seemed to Oliver,
from some trap in the floor, a small box, which he placed carefully
on the table. His eyes glistened as he raised the lid and looked in.
Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down, and took from it a
magnificent gold watch, sparkling with diamonds.
[Illustration: Oliver amazed at the Dodger's Mode of 'going to work']
"Aha!" said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and distorting every
feature with a hideous grin. "Clever dogs! clever dogs! Staunch to the
last! Never told the old parson where they were; never peached upon old
Fagin. And why should they? It wouldn't have loosened the knot, or kept
the drop up a minute longer. No, no, no! Fine fellows! fine fellows!"
With these, and other muttered reflections of the like nature, the
Jew once more deposited the watch in its place of safety. At least
half a dozen more were severally drawn forth from the same box, and
surveyed with equal pleasure; besides rings, brooches, bracelets, and
other articles of jewellery, of such magnificent materials and costly
workmanship that Oliver had no idea even of their names.
Having replaced these trinkets, the Jew took out another, so small
that it lay in the palm of his hand. There seemed to be some very
minute inscription on it, for the Jew laid it flat upon the table, and,
shading it with his hand, pored over it long and earnestly. At length
he set it down as if despairing of success, and, leaning back in his
chair, muttered,
"What a fine thing capital punishment is! Dead men never repent; dead
men never bring awkward stories to light. The prospect of the gallows,
too, makes them hardy and bold. Ah, it's a fine thing for the trade!
Five of them strung up in a row, and none left to play booty or turn
white-livered!"
As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes which had been
staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver's face; the boy's eyes
were fixed on his in mute curiosity, and, although the recognition was
only for an instant--for the briefest space of time that can possibly
be conceived,--it was enough to show the old man that he had been
observed. He closed the lid of the box with a loud crash, and, laying
his hand on a bread-knife which was on the table, started furiously up.
He trembled very much though; for, even in his terror, Oliver could see
that the knife quivered in the air.
"What's that?" said the Jew. "What do you watch me for? Why are you
awake? What have you seen? Speak out, boy! Quick--quick! for your life!"
"I wasn't able to sleep any longer, sir," replied Oliver, meekly. "I am
very sorry if I have disturbed you, sir."
"You were not awake an hour ago?" said the Jew, scowling fiercely on
the boy.
"No--no, indeed, sir," replied Oliver.
"Are you sure?" cried the Jew, with a still fiercer look than before,
and a threatening attitude.
"Upon my word I was not, sir," replied Oliver, earnestly. "I was not,
indeed, sir."
"Tush, tush, my dear!" said the Jew, suddenly resuming his old manner,
and playing with the knife a little before he laid it down, as if to
induce the belief that he had caught it up in mere sport. "Of course I
know that, my dear. I only tried to frighten you. You're a brave boy.
Ha! ha! you're a brave boy, Oliver!" and the Jew rubbed his hands with
a chuckle, but looked uneasily at the box notwithstanding.
"Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?" said the Jew, laying
his hand upon it after a short pause.
"Yes, sir," replied Oliver.
"Ah!" said the Jew, turning rather pale. "They--they're mine, Oliver;
my little property. All I have to live upon in my old age. The folks
call me a miser, my dear,--only a miser; that's all."
Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser to live in
such a dirty place, with so many watches; but, thinking that perhaps
his fondness for the Dodger and the other boys cost him a good deal
of money, he only cast a deferential look at the Jew, and asked if he
might get up.
"Certainly, my dear,--certainly," replied the old gentleman. "Stay.
There's a pitcher of water in the corner by the door. Bring it here,
and I'll give you a basin to wash in, my dear."
Oliver got up, walked across the room, and stooped for one instant to
raise the pitcher. When he turned his head, the box was gone.
He had scarcely washed himself and made everything tidy by emptying
the basin out of the window, agreeably to the Jew's directions, than
the Dodger returned, accompanied by a very sprightly young friend whom
Oliver had seen smoking on the previous night, and who was now formally
introduced to him as Charley Bates. The four then sat down to breakfast
off the coffee and some hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had brought
home in the crown of his hat.
"Well," said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and addressing himself
to the Dodger, "I hope you've been at work this morning, my dears."
"Hard," replied the Dodger.
"As nails," added Charley Bates.
"Good boys, good boys!" said the | 2,294.862922 |
2023-11-16 18:55:18.9415280 | 7,436 | 14 |
Produced by Tom Cosmas from materials provided at The Internet Archive.
Transcriber's Note
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
THE INTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC SERIES
VOLUME LXIX
THE
INTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC SERIES.
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* * * * *
[Illustration: CONTOUR AND GLACIAL MAP OF THE BRITISH ISLES]
THE INTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC SERIES
MAN AND
THE GLACIAL PERIOD
BY
G. FREDERICK WRIGHT
D. D., LL. D., F. G. S. A.
PROFESSOR IN OBERLIN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
FORMERLY ASSISTANT ON THE UNITED STATES GEOLOGICAL SURVEY
AUTHOR OF THE ICE AGE IN NORTH AMERICA.
LOGIC OF CHRISTIAN EVIDENCES, ETC.
_WITH AN APPENDIX ON TERTIARY MAN_
By PROF. HENRY W. HAYNES
FULLY ILLUSTRATED
_SECOND EDITION_
NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1895
Copyright, 1892,
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
Electrotyped and Printed
at the Appleton Press, U. S. A.
TO
JUDGE C. C. BALDWIN
PRESIDENT OF THE WESTERN RESERVE HISTORICAL SOCIETY
CLEVELAND
THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED
IN RECOGNITION OF
HIS SAGACIOUS AND UNFAILING INTEREST IN
THE INVESTIGATIONS WHICH HAVE MADE IT POSSIBLE
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
Since, as stated in the Introduction (page 1), the plan of this volume
permitted only "a concise presentation of the facts," it was impossible
to introduce either full references to the illimitable literature of
the subject or detailed discussion of all disputed points. The facts
selected, therefore, were for the most part those upon which it was
supposed there would be pretty general agreement.
The discussion upon the subject of the continuity of the Glacial period
was, however, somewhat elaborate (see pages 106-121, 311, 324, 332),
and was presented with excessive respect for the authority of those who
maintain the opposite view; all that was claimed (page 110) being that
one might maintain the _unity_ or _continuity_ of the Glacial period
"without forfeiting his right to the respect of his fellow-geologists."
But it already appears that there was no need of this extreme modesty of
statement. On the contrary, the vigorous discussion of the subject which
has characterized the last two years reveals a decided reaction against
the theory that there has been more than one Glacial epoch in Quaternary
times; while there have been brought to light many most important if not
conclusive facts in favour of the theory supported in the volume.
In America the continuity of the Glacial period has been maintained
during the past two years with important new evidence, among others
by authorities of no less eminence and special experience in glacial
investigations than Professor Dana,[A] Mr. Warren Upham,[B] and Professor
Edward H. Williams, Jr.[C] Professor Williams's investigations on the
attenuated border of the glacial deposits in the Lehigh, the most
important upper tributary to the Delaware Valley, Pa., are of important
significance, since the area which he so carefully studied lies wholly
south of the terminal moraine of Lewis and Wright, and belongs to the
portion of the older drift which Professors Chamberlin and Salisbury
have been most positive in assigning to the first Glacial epoch, which
they have maintained was separated from the second epoch by a length of
time sufficient for the streams to erode rock gorges in the Delaware and
Lehigh Rivers from two hundred to three hundred feet in depth.[D] But
Professor Williams has found that the rock gorges of the Lehigh, and
even of its southern tributaries, had been worn down approximately to
the present depth of that of the Delaware before this earliest period of
glaciation, and that the gorges were filled with the earliest glacial
_débris_.
[Footnote A: American Journal of Science, vol. xlvi, pp. 327, 330.]
[Footnote B: American Journal of Science, vols, xlvi, pp. 114-121; xlvii,
pp. 358-365; American Geologist, vols, x, pp. 339-362, especially pp.
361, 362; xiii, pp. 114, 278; Bulletin of the Geological Society of
America, vol. v, pp. 71-86, 87-100.]
[Footnote C: Bulletin of the Geological Society of America, vol. v, pp.
13-16, 281-296; American Journal of Science, vol. xlvii, pp. 33-36.]
[Footnote D: See especially Chamberlin, in the American Journal of
Science, vol. xlv, p. 192; Salisbury, in the American Geologist, vol. xi,
p. 18.]
A similar relation of the glacial deposits of the attenuated border to
the preglacial erosion of the rock gorges of the Alleghany and upper
Ohio Rivers has been brought to light by the joint investigations of Mr.
Frank Leverett and myself in western Pennsylvania, in the vicinity of
Warren, Pa., where, in an area which was affected by only the earliest
glaciation, glacial deposits are found filling the rock channels of
old tributaries to the Alleghany to a depth of from one hundred and
seventy to two hundred and fifty feet, and carrying the preglacial
erosion at that point very closely, if not quite, down to the present
rock bottoms of all the streams. This removes from Professor Chamberlin
a most important part of the evidence of a long interglacial period to
which he had appealed; he having maintained[E] that "the higher glacial
gravels antedated those of the moraine-forming epoch by the measure of
the erosion of the channel through the old drift and the rock, whose mean
depth here is about three hundred feet, of which perhaps two hundred and
fifty feet may be said to be rock," adding that the "excavation that
intervened between the two epochs in other portions of the Alleghany,
Monongahela, and upper Ohio valleys is closely comparable with this."
[Footnote E: Bulletin 58 of the United States Geological Survey, p. 35;
American Journal of Science, vol. xlv, p. 195.]
These observations of Mr. Leverett and myself seem to demonstrate the
position maintained in the volume (page 218), namely, that the inner
precipitous rock gorges of the upper Ohio and its tributaries are mainly
_pre_glacial, rather than _inter_glacial. The only way in which Professor
Chamberlin can in any degree break the force of this discovery is by
assuming that in preglacial times the present narrow rock gorges of the
Alleghany and the Ohio were not continuous, but that (as indicated in
the present volume on page 206) the drainage of various portions of that
region was by northern outlets to the Lake Erie basin, leaving, on this
supposition, the _cols_ between two or three drainage areas to be lowered
in glacial or interglacial time.
On the theory of continuity the erosion of these _cols_ would have been
rapidly effected by the reversed drainage consequent upon the arrival
of the ice-front at the southern shore of the Lake Erie basin. During
all the time elapsing thereafter, until the ice had reached its southern
limit, the stream was also augmented by the annual partial melting of
the advancing glacier which was constantly bringing into the valley
the frozen precipitation of the far north. The distance is from thirty
to seventy miles, so that a moderately slow advance of the ice at that
stage would afford time for a great amount of erosion before sufficient
northern gravel had reached the region to begin the filling of the
gorge.[F]
[Footnote F: See an elaborate discussion of the subject in its new phases
by Chamberlin and Leverett, in the American Journal of Science, vol.
xlvii, pp. 247-283.]
Mr. Leverett also presented an important paper before the Geological
Society of America at its meeting at Madison, Wis., in August, 1893,
adducing evidence which, he thinks, goes to prove that the post-glacial
erosion in the earlier drift in the region of Rock River, Ill., was
seven or eight times as much as that in the later drift farther north;
while Mr. Oscar H. Hershey arrives at nearly the same conclusions from
a study of the buried channels in northwestern Illinois.[G] But even
if these estimates are approximately correct--which is by no means
certain--they only prove the length of the Glacial period, and not
necessarily its discontinuity.
[Footnote G: American Geologist, vol. xii, p. 314f. Other important
evidence to a similar effect is given by Mr. Leverett, in an article on
The Glacial Succession in Ohio, Journal of Geology, vol. i, pp. 129-146.]
At the same time it should be said that these investigations in western
Pennsylvania somewhat modify a portion of the discussion in the present
volume concerning the effects of the Cincinnati ice-dam. It now appears
that the full extent of the gravel terraces of glacial origin in the
Alleghany River had not before been fully appreciated, since they are
nearly continuous on the two-hundred-foot rock shelf, and are often
as much as eighty feet thick. It seems probable, therefore, that the
Alleghany and upper Ohio gorge was filled with glacial gravel to a depth
of about two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet, as far down at
least as Wheeling, W. Va. If this was the case, it would obviate the
necessity of bringing in the Cincinnati ice-dam (as set forth in pages
212-216) to account directly for all the phenomena in that region, except
as this obstruction at Cincinnati would greatly facilitate the silting up
of the gorge. The simple accumulation of glacial gravel in the Alleghany
gorge would of itself dam up the Monongahela at Pittsburg, so as to
produce the results detailed by Professor White on page 215.[H]
[Footnote H: For a full discussion of these topics, see paper by
Professor B. C. Jillson, Transactions of the Academy of Science and
Art of Pittsburg, December 8, 1893; G. F. Wright, American Journal of
Science, vol. xlvii, pp. 161-187; especially pp. 177, 178; The Popular
Science Monthly, vol. xlv, pp. 184-198.]
Of European authorities who have recently favoured the theory of the
continuity of the Quaternary Glacial period, as maintained in the volume,
it is enough to mention the names of Prestwich,[I] Hughes,[J] Kendall,[K]
Lamplugh,[L] and Wallace,[M] of England; Falsan,[N] of France; Holst,[O]
of Sweden; Credner[P] and Diener,[Q] of Germany; and Nikitin[R] and
Kropotkin,[S] of Russia.[T] Among leading authorities still favouring a
succession of Glacial epochs are: Professor James Geikie,[U] of Scotland;
Baron de Geer,[V] of Sweden; and Professor Felix Wahnschaffe,[W] of
Germany.
[Footnote I: Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society for August,
1887.]
[Footnote J: American Geologist, vol. viii, p. 241.]
[Footnote K: Transactions of the Leeds Geological Association for
February 10, 1893.]
[Footnote L: Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society, August, 1891.]
[Footnote M: Fortnightly Review, November, 1893, p. 633; reprinted in The
Popular Science Monthly, vol. xliv, p. 790.]
[Footnote N: La Période glaciaire (Félix Alcan. Paris, 1889).]
[Footnote O: American Geologist, vol. viii, p. 242.]
[Footnote P: Ibid., p. 241.]
[Footnote Q: Ibid., p. 242.]
[Footnote R: Congrès International d'Archéologie, Moscow, 1892.]
[Footnote S: Nineteenth Century, January, 1894, p. 151, note.]
[Footnote T: The volume The Glacial Geology of Great Britain and Ireland,
edited from the unpublished MSS. of the late Henry Carvill Lewis (London,
Longmans, Green & Co., 1894), adds much important evidence in favour of
the continuity of the Glacial epoch; see especially pp. 187, 460, 461,
466.]
[Footnote U: Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, vol. xxxvii,
Part I, pp. 127-150.]
[Footnote V: American Geologist, vol. viii, p. 246.]
[Footnote W: Forschungen zur deutschen Landes und Volkskunde von Dr. A.
Kirchhoff. Bd. vi, Heft i.]
When the first edition was issued, two years ago, there seemed to be
a general acceptance of all the facts detailed in it which directly
connected man with the Glacial period both in America and in Europe;
and, indeed, I had studiously limited myself to such facts as had been
so long and so fully before the public that there would seem to be no
necessity for going again into the details of evidence relating to them.
It appears, however, that this confidence was ill-founded; for the
publication of the book seems to have been the signal for a confident
challenge, by Mr. W. H. Holmes, of all the American evidence, with
intimations that the European also was very likely equally defective.[X]
In particular Mr. Holmes denies the conclusiveness of the evidence of
glacial man adduced by Dr. Abbott and others at Trenton, N. J.; Dr.
Metz, at Madisonville, Ohio; Mr. Mills, at Newcomerstown, Ohio; and Miss
Babbitt, at Little Falls, Minn.
[Footnote X: Journal of Geology, vol. i, pp. 15-37, 147-163; American
Geologist, vol. xi, pp. 219-240.]
The sum of Mr. Holmes's effort amounts, however, to little more than
the statement that, with a limited amount of time and labour, neither he
nor his assistants had been able to find any implements in undisturbed
gravel in any of these places; and the suggestion of various ways in
which he thinks it possible that the observers mentioned may have been
deceived as to the original position of the implements found. But, as
had been amply and repeatedly published,[Y] Professor J. D. Whitney,
Professor Lucien Carr, Professor N. S. Shaler, Professor F. W. Putnam,
of Harvard University, besides Dr. C. C. Abbott, all expressly and with
minute detail describe finding implements in the undisturbed gravel at
Trenton, which no one denies to be of glacial origin. In the face of
such testimony, which had been before the public and freely discussed
for several years, it is an arduous undertaking for Mr. Holmes to claim
that none of the implements have been found in place, because he and
his assistants (whose opportunities for observation had scarcely been
one twentieth part as great as those of the others) failed to find any.
To see how carefully the original observations were made, one has but
to read the reports to Professor Putnam which have from time to time
appeared in the Proceedings of the Peabody Museum and of the Boston
Society of Natural History,, and which are partially summed up in the
thirty-second chapter of Dr. Abbott's volume on Primitive Industry.
[Footnote Y: Proceedings of the Boston Society of Natural History, vol.
xxi, January 19, 1881; Report of the Peabody Museum, vol. ii, pp. 44-47;
chap, xxxii of Abbott's Primitive Industry; American Geologist, vol. xi,
pp. 180-184.]
In the case of the discovery at Newcomerstown, Mr. Holmes is peculiarly
unfortunate in his efforts to present the facts, since, in endeavouring
to represent the conditions under which the implement was found by Mr.
Mills, he has relied upon an imaginary drawing of his own, in which an
utterly impossible state of things is pictured. The claim of Mr. Holmes
in this case, as in the other, is that possibly the gravel in which the
implements were found had been disturbed. In some cases, as in Little
Falls and at Madison ville, he thinks the implements may have worked down
to a depth of several feet by the overturning of trees or by the decay
of the tap-root of trees. A sufficient answer to these suggestions is,
that Mr. Holmes is able to find no instance in which the overturning of
trees has disturbed the soil to a depth of more than three or four feet,
while some of the implements in these places had been found buried from
eight to sixteen feet. Even if, as Mr. Chamberlin suggests,[Z] fifty
generations of trees have decayed on the spot since the retreat of the
ice, it is difficult to see how that would help the matter, since the
effect could not be cumulative, and fifty upturnings of three or four
feet would not produce the results of one upturning of eight feet.
Moreover, at Trenton, where the upturning of trees and the decaying of
tap-roots would have been as likely as anywhere to bury implements,
none of those of flint or jasper (which occur upon the surface by tens
of thousands) are buried more than a foot in depth; while the argillite
implements occur as low down as fifteen or twenty feet. This limitation
of flint and jasper implements to the surface is conclusively shown not
only by Dr. Abbott's discoveries, but also by the extensive excavations
at Trenton of Mr. Ernest Volk, whose collections formed so prominent
a part of Professor Putnam's Palæolithic exhibit at the Columbian
Exposition at Chicago. In the village sites explored by Mr. Volk,
argillite was the exclusive material of the implements found in the lower
strata of gravel. Similar results are indicated by the excavations of Mr.
H. C. Mercer at Point Pleasant, Pa., about twenty miles above Trenton,
where, in the lower strata, the argillite specimens are sixty-one times
more numerous than the jasper are.
[Footnote Z: American Geologist, vol. xi, p. 188.]
To discredit the discoveries at Trenton and Newcomerstown, Mr. Holmes
relies largely upon the theory that portions of gravel from the surface
had slid down to the bottom of the terrace, carrying implements with
them, and forming a talus, which, he thinks, Mr. Mills, Dr. Abbott,
and the others have mistaken for undisturbed strata of gravel. In his
drawings Mr. Holmes has even represented the gravel at Newcomerstown
as caving down into a talus without disturbing the strata to any great
extent, and at the same time he speaks slightingly of the promise which I
had made to publish a photograph of the bank as it really was. In answer,
it is sufficient to give, first, the drawing made at the time by Mr.
Mills, to show the general situation of the gravel bank at Newcomerstown,
in which the implement figured on page 252 was found; and, secondly, an
engraving from a photograph of the bank, taken by Mr. Mills after the
discovery of the implement, but before the talus had obscured its face.
The implement was found by Mr. Mills with its point projecting from a
fresh exposure of the terrace, just after a mass, loosened by his own
efforts, had fallen away. The gravel is of such consistency that every
sign of | 2,294.961568 |
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Transcriber's note:
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JOHNNY LUDLOW.
THIRD SERIES
[Illustration]
JOHNNY LUDLOW
by
MRS. HENRY WOOD
Author of
"East Lynne," "The Channings," etc.
THIRD SERIES.
+Twenty-Third Thousand+
+London:+
Macmillan and Co., Limited.
New York: the Macmillan Company.
1899.
London:
Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Limited,
Stamford Street and Charing Cross.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE MYSTERY OF JESSY PAGE 1
CRABB RAVINE 43
OUR VISIT 87
JANET CAREY 112
DR. KNOX 135
HELEN WHITNEY'S WEDDING 158
HELEN'S CURATE 180
JELLICO'S PACK 203
CAROMEL'S FARM 223
CHARLOTTE AND CHARLOTTE 244
THE LAST OF THE CAROMELS 267
A DAY IN BRIAR WOOD 290
THE STORY OF DOROTHY GRAPE: DISAPPEARANCE 313
THE STORY OF DOROTHY GRAPE: IN AFTER YEARS 335
LADY JENKINS: MINA 359
LADY JENKINS: DOUBT 382
LADY JENKINS: MADAME 406
LADY JENKINS: LIGHT 429
THE ANGELS' MUSIC 452
"God sent his Singers upon earth
With songs of sadness and of mirth,
That they might touch the hearts of men,
And bring them back to heaven again."
LONGFELLOW.
JOHNNY LUDLOW
THE MYSTERY OF JESSY PAGE.
I.
Our old grey church at Church Dykely stood in a solitary spot. Servant
maids (two of ours once, Hannah and Molly), and silly village girls went
there sometimes to watch for the "shadows" on St. Mark's Eve, and owls
had a habit of darting out of the belfry at night. Within view of the
church, though at some distance from it, stood the lonely, red-brick,
angular dwelling-house belonging to Copse Farm. It was inhabited by Mr.
Page, a plain worthy widower, getting in years; his three daughters
and little son. Abigail and Susan Page, two experienced, sensible,
industrious young women, with sallow faces and bunches of short dark
curls, were at this period, about midway between twenty and thirty:
Jessy, very much younger, was gone out to get two years' "finishing" at
a plain boarding-school; Charles, the lad, had bad health and went to
school by day at Church Dykely.
Mr. Page fell ill. He would never again be able to get about much. His
two daughters, so far as indoor work and management went, were hosts in
themselves, Miss Abigail especially; but they could not mount a horse to
superintend out-of-doors. Other arrangements were made. The second son
of Mr. Drench, a neighbouring farmer and friend, came to the Copse
Farm by day as overlooker. He was paid for his services, and he gained
experience.
No sooner had John Drench, a silent, bashful young farmer, good-looking
and fairly-well educated, been installed in his new post, than he began
to show a decided admiration for Miss Susan Page--who was a few months
younger than himself. The slight advances he made were favourably
received; and it was tacitly looked upon that they were "as good as
engaged." Things went on pleasantly through the spring, and might have
continued to go on so, but for the coming home at Midsummer of the
youngest daughter, Jessy. That led to no end of complications and
contrariety.
She was the sweetest flower you ever saw; a fair, delicate lily, with a
mild countenance, blue eyes, and golden hair. Jessy had never been very
strong; she had always been very pretty; and the consequence was that
whilst her sisters had grown up to be useful, not to be idle a minute
throughout the long day, Jessy had been petted and indulged, and
was little except being ornamental. The two years' schooling had not
improved her taste for domestic occupation. To tell the truth, Jessy was
given to being uncommonly idle.
To John Drench, who had not seen her since her early girlhood, she
appeared as a vision of beauty. "It was like an angel coming in at the
door," he said of the day she first came home, when telling the tale to
a stranger in after years. "My eyes were fairly dazzled."
Like an angel! And unfortunately for John Drench, his heart was dazzled
as well as his eyes. He fell desperately in love with her. It taught
him that what he had felt for Miss Susan was not love at all; only
esteem, and the liking that so often arises from companionship. He was
well-meaning, but inexperienced. As he had never spoken to Susan, the
utmost sign he had given being a look or a warmer handshake than usual,
he thought there would be no difficulty in transferring his homage to
the younger sister. Susan Page, who really loved him, and perhaps looked
on with the keen eyes of jealousy, grew at last to see how matters were.
She would have liked to put him in a corn-sack and give him a good
shaking by way of cure. Thus the summer months went over in some silent
discomfort, and September came in warm and fine.
Jessy Page stood at the open parlour window in her airy summer muslin,
twirling a rose in her hand, blue ribbons falling from her hair: for
Jessy liked to set herself off in little adornments. She was laughing at
John Drench outside, who had appeared covered with mud from the pond,
into which he had contrived partially to slip when they were dragging
for eels.
"I think your picture ought to be taken, just as you look now, Mr.
John."
He thought _hers_ ought to be: the bright fair face, the laughing blue
eyes, the parted lips and the pretty white teeth presented a picture
that, to him, had never had its equal.
"Do you, Miss Jessy? That's a fine rose," he shyly added. He was always
shy with her.
She held it out. She had not the least objection to be admired, even by
John Drench in an unpresentable state. In their hearts, women have all
desired men's flattery, from Eve downwards.
"These large roses are the sweetest of any," she went on. "I plucked it
from the tree beyond the grass-plat."
"You are fond of flowers, I've noticed, Miss Jessy."
"Yes, I am. Both for themselves and for the language they symbolise."
"What language is it?"
"Don't you know? I learnt it at school. Each flower possesses its own
meaning, Mr. John Drench. This, the rose, is true love."
"True love, is it, Miss Jessy!"
She was lightly flirting it before his face. It was too much for him,
and he took it gently from her. "Will you give it me?" he asked below
his breath.
"Oh, with great pleasure." And then she lightly added, as if to damp the
eager look on his face: "There are plenty more on the same tree."
"An emblem of true love," he softly repeated. "It's a pretty thought. I
wonder who invented----"
"Now then, John Drench, do you know that tea's waiting. Are you going to
sit down in those muddy boots and leggings?"
The sharp words came from Susan Page. Jessy turned and saw her sister's
pale, angry face. John Drench disappeared, and Miss Susan went out
again, and banged the door.
"It is high time Jessy was put to some regular employment," cried
Susan, bursting into the room where Miss Page sat making the tea. "She
idles away her time in the most frivolous and wasteful manner, never
doing an earthly thing. It is quite sinful."
"So it is," acquiesced Miss Page. "Have you a headache, Susan? You look
pale."
"Never mind my looks," wrathfully retorted Susan. "We will portion out
some share of work for her from to-day. She might make up the butter,
and undertake the pies and puddings, and do the plain sewing."
William Page, a grey-haired man, sitting with a stick by his side,
looked up. "Pretty creature!" he said, for he passionately loved his
youngest daughter. "I'll not have her hard-worked, Susan."
"But you'd not have her sit with her hands before her from Monday
morning till Saturday night, I suppose, father!" sharply returned Miss
Susan. "She'll soon be nineteen."
"No, no; idleness brings nothing but evil in its train. I didn't mean
that, Susan. Let the child do what is suitable for her. Where's John
Drench?"
"In a fine mess--up to his middle in mud," was Miss Susan's tart answer.
"One would think he had been trying to see how great an object he could
make of himself."
John Drench came in, somewhat improved, his coat changed and the rose in
his button-hole. He took his seat at the tea-table, and was more shy and
silent than ever. Jessy sat by her father, chattering gaily, her blue
ribbons flickering before his loving eyes.
But the butter-making and the other light work was fated not to be
inaugurated yet for Jessy. Charles Page, a tiresome, indulged lad of
twelve, became ill again: he was subject to attacks of low fever and
ague. Mr. Duffham, peering at the boy over his gold-headed cane, said
there was nothing for it but a dose of good seaside air. Mr. Page,
anxious for his boy, began to consult with his daughters as to how it
might be obtained. They had some very distant connections named Allen,
living at Aberystwith. To them Miss Page wrote, asking if they could
take in Charles and one of his sisters to live with them for a month or
so. Mrs. Allen replied that she would be glad to have them; since her
husband's death she had eked out a scanty income by letting lodgings.
It was Jessy who went with him. The house and farm could not have spared
Abigail; Susan said neither should it spare her. Jessy, the idle and
useless one had to go. Miss Susan thought she and John Drench were well
rid of the young lady.
September was in its second week when they went; November was at its
close when they returned. The improvement in Charles had been so marked
and wonderful--as Mrs. Allen and Jessy both wrote to say--that Mr.
Duffham had strongly urged his staying as long as the weather remained
fine. It was a remarkably fine late autumn that year, and they stayed
until the end of November.
Charles came home well and strong. Jessy was more beautiful than ever.
But there was some change in her. The light-hearted, talking, laughing
girl had grown rather silent: she was often heard singing snatches of
love songs to herself in a low voice, and there was a light in her eyes
as of some intense, secret happiness that might not be told. John
Drench, who had begun to show signs of returning to his old allegiance
(at least, Miss Susan so flattered herself), fell a willing captive
again forthwith, and had certainly neither eyes nor ears for any one but
Jessy. Susan Page came to the conclusion that a shaking in a sack would
be far too good for him.
* * * * *
The way of dressing the churches for Christmas in those past days was
quite different from the new style of "decoration" obtaining now. Sprays
of holly with their red berries, of ivy with its brown clusters, were
stuck, each alternately into the holes on the top of the pews. It was a
better way than the present one, far more effective--though I, Johnny
Ludlow, shall be no doubt laughed at for saying so. Your woven wreaths
tied round the pulpit and reading-desk; your lettered scrolls; your
artificial flowers, may be talked of as "artistic," but for effect they
all stand absolutely as nothing, in comparison with the more simple and
natural way, and they are, perhaps, the least bit tawdry. If you don't
believe me, pay a visit to some rural church next Christmas morning--for
the old fashion is observed in many a country district still--and judge
for yourselves. With many another custom that has been changed by the
folly and fashion of these later days of pretension, and not changed for
the better, lies this one. That is my opinion, and I hold to it.
The dressing in our church was always done by the clerk, old Bumford.
The sexton (called familiarly with us the grave-digger) helped him when
his health permitted, but he was nearly always ill, and then Bumford
himself had to be grave-digger. It was not much trouble, this manner of
decoration, and it took very little time. They had only to cut off the
sprays almost of the same size, trim the ends, and lodge them in the
holes. In the last century when a new country church was rebuilt (though
that did not happen often), the drilling of these holes in the woodwork
of the pews, for the reception of the "Christmas," was as much a matter
of course as were the pews themselves. Our Christmas was supplied by Mr.
Page with a liberal hand; the Copse Farm abounded with trees of holly
and ivy; one of his men, Leek, would help Bumford to cut it, and to cart
it in a hand-truck to the church. It took a good deal to do all the
pews.
On this Christmas that I am telling you of, it fell out that Clerk
Bumford and the sexton were both disabled. Bumford had rheumatic gout so
badly that getting him into church for the morning service the past
three Sundays had been a marvel of dexterity--while the sexton was in
bed with what he called catarrh. At first it seemed that we should
not get the church dressed at all: but the Miss Pages, ever ready and
active in a good work, came to the rescue, and said they would do it
themselves, with John Drench's help. The Squire was not going to be
behind-hand, and said we boys, for Tod and I were just home for the
holidays, should help too.
And when Christmas Eve came, and Leek had wheeled up the holly, and we
were all in the cold church (not I think that any of us cared whether it
was cold or warm), we enjoyed the work amazingly, and decided that old
Bumford should never be let do it again, gout or no gout.
Jessy Page was a picture to look at. The two elder ladies had on tight
dark cloth dresses, like a riding-habit cut short, at the ankles: Jessy
was in a bright blue mantle edged with swans-down, and a blue bonnet on
her pretty head. She came in a little late, and Miss Susan blew her up
sharply, for putting on that "best Sunday cape" to dress a church in:
but Jessy only laughed good-naturedly, and answered that she would take
care not to harm it. Susan Page, trimming the branches, had seen John
Drench's eyes fixed on the girl: and her knife worked away like mad in
her vexation.
"Look here," said Jessy: "we have never had any Christmas over the
pulpit; I think old Bumford was afraid to get up to do it; let us put
some. It would hide that ugly nail in the wall."
"There are no holes up in the wall," snapped Miss Susan.
"I meant a large bunch; a bunch of holly and ivy mixed, Susan. John
Drench could tie it to the nail: it would look well."
"I'll do it, too," said John. "I've some string in my pocket. The parson
won't know himself. It will be as good as a canopy over him."
Miss Page turned round: she and Charley had their arms full of the
branches we had been cutting.
"Put a bunch there, if you like, but let us finish the pews first," she
said. "If we go from one thing to another we shall not finish while it's
daylight."
It was good sense: she rarely spoke anything else. Once let darkness
overtake us, and the dressing would be done for. The church knew nothing
about evening service, and had never felt the want of means to light
itself up.
"I shall pick out the best sprays in readiness," whispered Jessy to me,
as we sat together on the bench by the big christening bowl, she
choosing branches, I trimming them. "Look at this one! you could not
count the berries on it."
"Did you enjoy your visit to Aberystwith, Jessy?"
I wondered what there was in my simple question to move her. The branch
of holly went anywhere; her hands met in a silent clasp; the expression
of her face changed to one of curious happiness. In answering, her voice
fell to a whisper.
"Yes, I enjoyed it."
"What a long time you stayed away! An age, Mrs. Todhetley says."
"It was nearly eleven weeks."
"Eleven weeks! How tedious!"
Her face was glowing, her eyes had a soft light in them. She caught up
some holly, and began scattering its berries.
"What did you do with yourself, Jessy?"
"I used to sit by the sea--and to walk about. It was very fine. They
don't often have it like that in November, Mrs. Allen said."
"Did Mrs. Allen sit and walk with you?"
"No. She had enough to do with the house and her lodgers. We only saw
her at meal times."
"The Miss Allens, perhaps?"
"There are no Miss Allens. Only one little boy."
"Why, then, you had no one but Charley!"
"Charley? Oh, he used to be always about with little Tom Allen--in a
boat, or something of that sort. Mrs. Allen thought the sea breezes must
be so good for him."
"Well, you must have been very dull!"
Jessy looked rather foolish. She was a simple-minded girl at the best.
The two elder sisters had all the strong sense of the family, she the
simplicity. Some people called Jessy Page "soft": perhaps, contrasted
with her sisters, she was so: and she was very inexperienced.
The dusk was gathering, and Charley had gone out tired, when John Drench
got into the pulpit to tie the bunch of holly to the wall above it. Tod
was with him. Drench had his hands stretched out, and we stood watching
them in a group in the aisle below, when the porch-door was burst open,
and in leaped Charles.
"Jessy! I say! Where's Jessy?"
"I am here," said Jessy, looking round. "What do you want?"
"Here's Mr. Marcus Allen."
Who Mr. Marcus Allen might be, Charles did not say. Jessy knew: there
was no doubt of that. Her face, just then close to mine, had flushed as
red as a June rose.
A tall, dark, imposing man came looming out of the dusk. His handsome,
furred great-coat was open, his waistcoat was of crimson velvet; he wore
two chains, three rings, and an eye-glass. And I'll leave you to judge
of the effect this vision of grandeur made, dropping down on us plain
church-dressers in our every-day clothes. John Drench leaned over the
pulpit cushion, string in hand; the two Miss Pages stood staring; Jessy
turned white and red with the unexpected amazement. It was to her he
approached, and spoke.
"How do you do, Miss Jessy?"
She put her hand out in answer to his; but seemed to have been struck as
dumb as the old stone image on the monument against the wall.
"These are your sisters, I presume, Miss Jessy? Will you do me the
honour of introducing me to them?"
"Mr. Marcus Allen," murmured Jessy. "My sister Abigail; my sister
Susan."
Mr. Marcus Allen, bowing over his hat, said something about the pleasure
it gave him to make their acquaintance personally, after hearing so much
of them from Miss Jessy at Aberystwith, and begged to be allowed to
shake their hands. Miss Page, when the hand-shaking was over, said in
her straightforward way that she did not know who he was, her young
sister never having mentioned him. Jessy, standing like a little
simpleton, her eyes bent down on the aisle bricks, murmured in confusion
that she "forgot it." John Drench had his face over the cushion all that
time, and Tod's arms began to ache, holding up the bunch of green.
Mr. Marcus Allen, it turned out, was related in some way to the Allens
of Aberystwith: he happened to go to the town soon after Jessy Page and
her brother went there, and he stayed until they left it. Not at the
Allens' house: he had lodgings elsewhere. Mrs. Allen spoke of him to
Jessy as a "grand gentleman, quite above them." An idea came over me, as
we all now stood together, that he had been Jessy's companion in the
walking and the sitting by the sea.
"I told Miss Jessy that I should be running down some day to renew my
acquaintanceship with her and make that of her family," said Mr. Marcus
Allen to Miss Page. "Having no particular engagement on my hands this
Christmas time, I came."
He spoke in the most easy manner conceivable: his accent and manner were
certainly those of a gentleman. As to the fashionable attire and the
rings and chains, rather startling though they looked to us in the
dark church on that dark and busy evening, they were all the rage for
dandies in the great world then.
Noticing the intimation that he had come purposely to see them, Miss
Page supposed that she ought, in hospitably good manners, to invite him
to stay a day or two at the farm, but doubted whether so imposing a
gentleman would condescend to do so. She said nothing about it then, and
we all went out of the church together; except John Drench, who stayed
behind with Leek to help clear up the litter for the man to carry away.
It was light outside, and I took a good look at the stranger: a handsome
man of seven-or-eight-and-twenty, with hard eyes, and black whiskers
curled to perfection.
"In what way is he related to the Allens of Aberystwith, Jessy?"
questioned Miss Page, drawing her sister away, as we went through the
coppice.
"I don't quite know, Abigail. He is some distant cousin."
"How came you never to speak of him?"
"I--I did not remember to do so."
"Very careless of you, child. Especially if he gave you cause to suppose
he might come here. I don't like to be taken by surprise by strangers;
it is not always convenient."
Jessy walked along in silence, meek as a lamb.
"What is he?--in any profession, or trade?"
"Trade? Oh, I don't think he does anything of that kind, Abigail. That
branch of the family would be above it, Mrs. Allen said. He has a large
income, she says; plenty of money."
"I take it, then, that he is above _us_," reasoned Miss Page.
"Oh dear, yes: in station. Ever so much."
"Then I'm sure I don't care to entertain him."
Miss Page went straight into the best kitchen on arriving at home. Her
father sat in the large hearth corner, smoking his pipe. She told him
about the stranger, and said she supposed they must ask him to stay over
the morrow--Christmas-Day.
"Why shouldn't we?" asked Mr. Page.
"Well, father, he seems very grand and great."
"Does he? Give him the best bedroom."
"And our ways are plain and simple, you know," she added.
"He must take us as he finds us, Abigail. Any friend of Mrs. Allen's is
welcome: she was downright kind to the children."
We had a jolly tea. Tod and I had been asked to it beforehand.
Pork-pies, Miss Susan's making, hot buttered batch-cakes, and lemon
cake and jams. Mr. Marcus Allen was charmed with everything: he was a
pleasant man to talk to. When we left, he and Mr. Page had gone to the
best kitchen again, to smoke together in the wide chimney corner.
* * * * *
You Londoners, who go in for your artistic scrolls and crosses, should
have seen the church on Christmas morning. It greeted our sight, as we
entered from the porch, like a capacious grove of green, on which the
sun streamed through the south windows. Old Bumford's dressing had never
been as full and handsome as this of ours, for we had rejected all
niggardly sprays. The Squire even allowed that much. Shaking hands with
Miss Page in the porch after service, he told her that it cut Clerk
Bumford out and out. Mr. Marcus Allen, in fashionable coat, with the
furred over-coat flung back, light gloves, and big white wristbands, was
in the Pages' pew, sitting between old Page and Jessy. He found all the
places for her in her Prayer-book (a shabby red one, some of the leaves
loose); bowing slightly every time he handed her the book, as if she had
been a princess of the blood royal. Such gallantry was new in our parts:
and the congregation were rather taken off their devotions watching it.
As to Jessy, she kept flushing like a rose.
Mr. Marcus Allen remained more than a week, staying over New-Year's Day.
He made himself popular with them all, and enjoyed what Miss Abigail
called their plain ways, just as though he had been reared to them. He
smoked his pipe in the kitchen with the farmer; he drove Miss Susan to
Alcester in the tax-cart; he presented Miss Abigail with a handsome
work-box; and gave Charley a bright half-sovereign for bullseyes. As to
Jessy, he paid her no more attention than he did her sisters; hardly as
much: so that if Miss Susan had been entertaining any faint hope that
his object in coming to the Copse was Jessy, and that in consequence
John Drench might escape from bewitching wiles, she found the hope
fallacious. Mr. Marcus Allen had apparently no more thought of Jessy
than he had of Sally, the red-armed serving-girl. "But what in the world
brought the man here at all?" questioned Miss Susan of her sister. "He
wanted a bit of country holiday," answered Miss Page with her common
sense.
One day during the week the Squire met them abroad, and gave an
impromptu invitation to the Manor for the evening. Only the three Miss
Pages came. Mr. Marcus Allen sent his compliments, and begged to be
excused on the score of headache.
One evening at dusk we met him and Jessy. She had been out on some
errand, and he overtook her in the little coppice path between the
church and the farm. Tod, dashing through it to get home for dinner, I
after him, nearly dashed right upon them. Mr. Marcus Allen had his face
inside her bonnet, as if he were speaking in the ear of a deaf old lady
of seventy. Tod burst out laughing when we got on.
"That fellow was stealing a sly kiss in the dark, Johnny."
"Like his impudence."
"Rubbish," retorted Tod. "It's Christmas-tide, and all fair. Didn't you
see the bit of mistletoe he was holding up?" And Tod ran on, whistling a
line of a song that the Squire used to sing in his young days:
"We all love a pretty girl, under the rose."
Mr. Marcus Allen left the Copse Farm with hearty thanks for its
hospitality. He promised to come again in the summer, when the fields
should be sweet with hay and the golden corn was ripening.
No sooner had he gone than John Drench asked Jessy to promise to be his
wife. Whether he had felt any secret jealousy of Mr. Marcus Allen and
his attractions, and deemed it well to secure Jessy as soon as the coast
was clear, he spoke out. Jessy did not receive the honour kindly. She
tossed her pretty head in a violent rage: the idea, she said, of her
marrying _him_. Jessy had never flirted with John Drench since the
Aberystwith journey, or encouraged him in any way--that was certain.
Unpleasantness ensued at the farm. Mr. Page decidedly approved of the
suitor: he alone had perceived nothing of Susan's hopes: and, perhaps
for the first time in his life, he spoke sharply to Jessy. John Drench
was not to be despised, he told her; his father was a wealthy man, and
John would have a substantial portion; more than double enough to put
him into the largest and best farm in the county: Mr. Drench was only
waiting for a good one to fall in, to take it for him. No: Jessy would
not listen. And as the days went on and John Drench, _as she said_,
strove to further his suit on every opportunity, she conceived, or
professed, a downright aversion to him. Sadly miserable indeed she
seemed, crying often; and saying she would rather go out as lady's-maid
to some well-born lady than stay at home to be persecuted. Miss Susan
was in as high a state of rapture as the iniquity of false John Drench
permitted; and said it served the man right for making an oaf of
himself.
"Let be," cried old Page of Jessy. "She'll come to her senses in time."
But Miss Abigail, regarding Jessy in silence with her critical eyes,
took up the notion that the girl had some secret source of discomfort,
with which John Drench had nothing to do.
It was close upon this, scarcely beyond the middle of January, when one
Monday evening Duffham trudged over from Church Dykely for a game at
chess with the Squire. Hard weather had set in; ice and snow lay on
the ground. Mrs. Todhetley nursed her face by the fire, for she had
toothache as usual; Tod watched the chess; I was reading. In the midst
of a silence, the door opened, and old Thomas ushered in John Drench, a
huge red comforter round his neck, his hat in his hand.
"Good-evening, Squire; good-evening, ma'am," said he in his shy way,
nodding separately to the rest of us, as he unwound the comforter. "I've
come for Miss Jessy, please."
"Come for Miss Jessy!" was the Squire's surprised echo. "Miss Jessy's
not here. Take a seat, Mr. John."
"Not here?" cried Drench, opening his eyes in something like fear, and
disregarding the invitation to sit down. "Not here! Why where can she
have got to? Surely she has not fallen down in the snow and ice, and
disabled herself?"
"Why did you think she was here?"
"I don't know," he replied, after a pause, during which he seemed to be
lost. "Miss Jessy was not at home at tea: later, when I was leaving for
the night, Miss Abigail asked me if I would come over here first and
fetch Jessy. I asked no questions, but came off at once."
"She has not been here," said Mrs. Todhetley. "I have not seen Jessy
Page since yesterday afternoon, when I spoke to her coming out of
church."
John Drench looked mystified. That there must have been some
misapprehension on Miss Page's part; or else on his, and he had come to
the wrong house; or that poor Jessy had come to grief in the snow on her
way to us, seemed certain. He drank a glass of ale, and went away.
They were over again at breakfast time in the morning, John Drench and
Miss Abigail herself, bringing strange news. The latter's face turned
white as she told it. Jessy Page had not been found. John D | 2,295.056453 |
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THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS AND THE NAVAL CODE
BY CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON
AUTHOR OF "THE BOY AVIATORS' SERIES," "THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS' SERIES,"
"THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC," "THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS AND
THE LOST LINER," "THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS OF THE ICE-BERG PATROL," ETC.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES L. WRENN_
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1915,
BY HURST & COMPANY
[Illustration: "Huh, I don't think the idea's worth a cent," sniffed
Thurman.]
CONTENTS
I. VACATION DAYS
II. "SPEEDWAY" VS. "CURLEW"
III. CAPTAIN SIMMS, OF THE "THESPIS"
IV. ON SECRET SERVICE
V. NIGHT SIGNALS
VI. IN THE DARK
VII. THE NAVAL CODE
VIII. A MONKEY INTERLUDE
IX. NODDY AND THE BEAR
X. "WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF IT?"
XI. A SWIM WITH A MEMORY
XII. A TALE FROM THE FROZEN LANDS
XIII. A NIGHT ALARM
XIV. JACK'S CURIOSITY AND ITS RESULTS
XV. BILLY TAKES THE TRAIL
XVI. A "GHOSTESS" ABROAD
XVII. ONE MYSTERY SOLVED
XVIII. BILL SNIGGERS DECIDES
XIX. WHAT A "HAYSEED" DID
XX. THE "CURLEW" IN TROUBLE
XXI. THE END OF JACK'S HOLIDAY
XXII. "THE GEM OF THE OCEAN"
XXIII. JACK'S BIG SECRET
XXIV. THE NAVY DEPARTMENT "SITS UP"
XXV. A MYSTERY ON BOARD
XXVI. A "FLASH" OF DISTRESS
XXVII. A STRANGE WRECK
XXVIII. CAST AWAY WITH A PYTHON
XXIX. CAPTURED BY RADIO
XXX. THURMAN PLOTS
XXXI. THE "SUITABLE REWARD"
XXXII. THE PLOTTER'S TRIUMPH
XXXIII. IN THE POWER OF THE ENEMY
XXXIV. THE SEARCH FOR JACK
XXXV. THE WIRELESS MAKES GOOD
The Ocean Wireless Boys and the Naval Code.
CHAPTER I.
VACATION DAYS.
"Up with your helm there, Noddy! Luff her up or you'll have the _Curlew_
on the rocks!"
"That's right, luff!" cried Billy Raynor, adding his voice to Jack
Ready's command.
"That's what I _luff_ to do," grinned the red-headed, former Bowery
waif, Noddy Nipper, as, with a dexterous motion, he jerked over the
tiller of the fine, speedy sloop in which the boys were enjoying a sail
on Alexandria Bay, above the Thousand Islands.
The mainsail and jib shivered, and the _Curlew_ spun round like a top
just as it seemed inevitable that she must end her career on some jagged
rocks that had suddenly loomed up ahead.
"Neatly done, Noddy," applauded Jack. "We'll forgive you even that awful
pun for that skillful bit of boat-handling."
The freckled lad grinned in appreciation of the compliment paid him by
the Wireless Boy.
"Much obliged," he said. "Of course I haven't got sailing down as fine
as you yet. How far do you reckon we are from home?"
"From the Pine Island hotel, you mean?" rejoined Billy Raynor. "Oh, not
more than ten miles."
"Just about that," chimed in Jack. "If this wind holds we'll be home in
time for supper."
"Supper!" exclaimed Bill; "I could eat an octogenarian doughnut, I'm so
hungry."
A groan came from Noddy. Although the Bowery lad had polished up on his
grammar and vocabulary considerably since Jack Ready first encountered
him as second cook on the seal-poaching schooner _Polly Ann_, Captain
"Terror" Carson commanding, still, a word like "Octogenarian" stumped
him, as the saying is.
"What's an octo-octo--what-you-may-call-'um doughnut, anyhow?" he
demanded, for Noddy always liked to acquire a new word, and not
infrequently astonished his friends by coming out with a "whopper"
culled out of the dictionary. "Is it a doughnut with legs on it?"
Jack and Billy broke into a roar of laughter.
"A doughnut with legs on?" sputtered Billy. "Whatever put that idea into
your head, Noddy?"
"Well, don't octo-octo-thing-a-my-jigs have legs?" inquired Noddy.
"Oh, you mean octopuses," cried Jack, with another laugh. "Billy meant
an eighty-year-old doughnut."
"I'll look it up when we get back," remarked Noddy gravely; "it's a good
word."
"Say, fellows, we are sure having a fine time out of this holiday,"
remarked Billy presently, after an interval of silence.
"Yes, but just the same I shan't be sorry when Mr. Juke's new liner is
completed and we can go to sea again," said Jack, "but after our
experiences up north, among the ice, I think we had a holiday coming to
us."
"That we did," agreed Noddy. "Some difference between skimming around
here in a fine yacht and being cast away on that wretched island with
nothing to eat and not much prospect of getting any."
"Yes, but if it hadn't been for that experience, and the ancient
treasure we found, we couldn't have taken such a jolly vacation," argued
Jack. "It's made Uncle Toby a rich man and put all of us on Easy
Street."
"Yes, it was certainly worth all the hardships we went through," agreed
Noddy.
"I guess we are in for a long spell of quiet now, though," remarked
Jack, after a pause, during which each boy thought of their recent
adventures.
"Not so sure of that," replied Noddy. "You're the sort of fellow,
judging from what you've told us, who is always tumbling up against
something exciting."
"Yes, I feel it in my bones that we are not destined to lead an
absolutely uneventful time----" began Billy Raynor. "I--hold hard there,
Noddy; watch yourself. Here comes another yacht bearing down on us!"
Jack and Billy leaped to their feet, steadying themselves by clutching a
stay. Billy was right. Another yacht, a good deal larger than their own,
was heading straight for them.
"Hi! put your helm over! We've got the right of way!" shouted Jack,
cupping his hands.
"Look out where you're going!" cried Billy.
But whoever was steering the other yacht made no motion to carry out the
suggestions. Instead, under a press of canvas, she kept directly on her
course.
"She'll run us down," cried Noddy. "What'll I do, Jack?"
"Throw her over to port lively now," sang out Jack Ready. "Hurry up or
we'll have a bad smash-up!"
He leaped toward the stern to Noddy's assistance, while Billy Raynor,
the young engineer, did the same.
In former volumes of this series the previous adventures of the lads
have been described. In the first book, devoted to their doings and to
describing the fascinating workings of sea-wireless aboard ocean-going
craft, which was called "The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Atlantic," we
learned how Jack became a prime favorite with the irascible Jacob Jukes,
head of the great Transatlantic and Pacific shipping combine. Jack's
daring rescue of Millionaire Jukes' little girl resulted in the lad's
obtaining the position of wireless man on board a fine ship, after he
had looked for such a job for months in vain. But because Jack would not
become the well-paid companion of Mr. Jukes' son Tom, a rather sickly
youth, the millionaire became angry with the young wireless man.
However, Jack was able, subsequently, to rescue Mr. Jukes from a
drifting boat after the magnate's yacht had burned in mid-ocean and,
following that, to reunite the almost frantic millionaire with his
missing son.
Other exciting incidents were described, and Jack gained rapidly in his
chosen profession, as did his chum, Billy Raynor, who was third
assistant engineer of the big vessel. The next volume, which was called
"The Ocean Wireless Boys and the Lost Liner," told of the loss of the
splendid ship "Tropic Queen," on a volcanic island after she had become
disabled and had drifted helplessly for days. By wireless Jack managed
to secure aid from U. S. vessels, and it came in the nick of time, for
the island was destroyed by an eruption just after the last of the
rescued passengers had been taken off. Wireless, too, secured, as
described in that book, the capture of a criminal much wanted by the
government.
The third volume related more of Jack's doings and was called "The Ocean
Wireless Boys of the Ice-berg Patrol." This book told how Jack, while
serving aboard one of the revenue cutters that send out wireless
warnings of ice-bergs to transatlantic liners, fell into the hands of a
band of seal poachers. Things looked black for the lad for a time, but
he found two good friends among the rough crew in the persons of Noddy
Nipper and Pompey, an eccentric old <DW52> cook, full of superstitions
about ghosts. The _Polly Ann_, as the schooner was called, was wrecked
and Jack and his two friends cast away on a lonesome spot of land called
Skull Island. They were rescued from this place by Jack's eccentric,
wooden-legged Uncle, Captain Toby Ready, who, when at home, lived on a
stranded wooden schooner where he made patent medicines out of herbs for
sailors. Captain Toby had got wind of an ancient treasure hidden by a
forgotten race on an Arctic island. After the strange reunion they all
sailed north. But an unscrupulous financier (also on a hunt for the
treasure) found a way to steal their schooner and left them destitute.
For a time it appeared that they would leave their bones in the bleak
northland. But the skillful resource and pluck of Jack and Noddy won the
day. We now find them enjoying a holiday, with Captain Toby as host, at
a fashionable hotel among the beautiful Thousand Islands. Having made
this necessary digression, let us again turn our attention to the
situation which had suddenly confronted the happy three, and which
appeared to be fraught with imminent danger.
Like their own craft, the other boat carried a single mast and was
sloop-rigged. But the boat was larger in every respect than the
_Curlew_. She carried a great spread of snowy canvas and heeled over
under its press till the white water raced along her gunwale.
As she drew nearer the boys saw that there were two occupants on board
her. One was a tall, well-dressed lad in yachting clothes, whose face,
rather handsome otherwise, was marred by a supercilious sneer, as if he
considered himself a great deal better than anyone else. The other was a
somewhat elderly man whose hair appeared to be tinged with gray. His
features were coarse, but he resembled the lad with him enough to make
it certain he was his father.
"Sheer off there," roared Jack at the top of his lungs, to the occupants
of the other boat; "do you want to run us down?"
"Get out of the way then," cried the boy.
"Yes, sheer off yourselves, whipper-snappers!" came from the man.
"We've got the right of way!" cried Jack.
"Go chase yourselves," yelled Noddy, reverting in this moment of
excitement, as was his habit at such times, to his almost forgotten
slang.
"Keep her on her course, Donald; never mind those young jack-a-napes,"
said the man in the other sloop, addressing the boy, who was steering.
"All right, pop," was the reply; "they'll get the worst of the smash if
they don't clear out."
"Gracious, they really mean to run us down," cried Jack, in a voice of
alarm. "Better sheer off, Noddy, though I hate to do it."
"By jinks, do you see who they are?" cried Bill Raynor, who had been
studying the pair in the other boat, which was now only a few yards off.
"It's that millionaire Hiram Judson and his son Donald, the boy you had
the run in with at the hotel the other day."
But Jack made no reply. The two boats were now almost bowsprit to
bowsprit. As for Noddy, the freckles stood out on his pale, frightened
face like spots on the sun.
CHAPTER II.
"SPEEDAWAY" VS. "CURLEW."
But at the critical moment the lad at the helm of the other craft, which
bore the name _Speedaway_, appeared to lose his nerve. He sheered off
and merely grazed the _Curlew's_ side, scraping off a lot of paint.
"Hi, there! What do you mean by doing such a thing?" demanded Jack,
directly the danger of a head-on collision was seen to have been
averted.
The other lad broke into a laugh. It was echoed by the man with him,
whom he had addressed as "pop."
"Just thought I'd see how much you fellows knew about handling a boat,"
he sneered. "It's just as I thought, you're a bunch of scare-cats. You
needn't have been afraid that I couldn't keep the _Speedaway_ out of
danger."
"You risked the lives of us all by running so close," cried Billy
indignantly.
"Never attempt such a thing again," said Jack angrily, "or----"
"Or what, my nervous young friend?" taunted the elderly man.
"Yes," said the lad, with an unpleasant grin, "what will you do?"
"I shall feel sorely tempted to come on board your boat and give you the
same sort of a | 2,295.155219 |
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FOMA GORDYEFF
(The Man Who Was Afraid)
By Maxim Gorky
Translated by Herman Bernstein
INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
OUT of the darkest depths of life, where vice and crime and misery
abound, comes the Byron of the twentieth century, the poet of the
vagabond and the proletariat, Maxim Gorky. Not like the beggar, humbly
imploring for a crust in the name of the Lord, nor like the jeweller
displaying his precious stones to dazzle and tempt the eye, he comes to
the world,--nay, in accents of Tyrtaeus this commoner of Nizhni Novgorod
spurs on his troops of freedom-loving heroes to conquer, as it were,
the placid, self-satisfied literatures of to-day, and bring new life to
pale, bloodless frames.
Like Byron's impassioned utterances, "borne on the tones of a wild and
quite artless melody," is Gorky's mad, unbridled, powerful voice, as he
sings of the "madness of the brave," of the barefooted dreamers, who are
proud of their idleness, who possess nothing and fear nothing, who are
gay in their misery, though miserable in their joy.
Gorky's voice is not the calm, cultivated, well-balanced voice
of Chekhov, the Russian De Maupassant, nor even the apostolic,
well-meaning, but comparatively faint voice of Tolstoy, the preacher: it
is the roaring of a lion, the crash of thunder. In its elementary power
is the heart rending cry of a sincere but suffering soul that saw the
brutality of life in all its horrors, and now flings its experiences
into the face of the world with unequalled sympathy and the courage of a
giant.
For Gorky, above all, has courage; he dares to say that he finds the
vagabond, the outcast of society, more sublime and significant than
society itself.
His Bosyak, the symbolic incarnation of the Over-man, is as naive and
as bold as a child--or as a genius. In the vehement passions of the
magnanimous, compassionate hero in tatters, in the aristocracy of his
soul, and in his constant thirst for Freedom, Gorky sees the rebellious
and irreconcilable spirit of man, of future man,--in these he sees
something beautiful, something powerful, something monumental, and is
carried away by their strange psychology. For the barefooted dreamer's
life is Gorky's life, his ideals are Gorky's ideals, his pleasures and
pains, Gorky's pleasures and pains.
And Gorky, though broken in health | 2,295.259979 |
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Note: A compilation of all five volumes of this work is also available
individually in the Project Gutenberg library.
See http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/10706
The original German version of this work, Roemische Geschichte,
Viertes Buch: Die Revolution, is in the Project Gutenberg
E-Library as E-book #3063.
See http://www | 2,295.35958 |
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THE MAGIC HOUSE
THE MAGIC HOUSE
AND OTHER POEMS
BY
DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT
[Illustration: colophon]
METHUEN AND CO.
18 BURY STREET, W.C.
LONDON
1893
Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty
TO
MY MOTHER
CONTENTS
PAGE
A LITTLE SONG
The sunset in the rosy west, 1
THE HILL PATH
Are the little breezes blind, 2
THE VOICE AND THE DUSK
The slender moon and one pale star, 5
FOR REMEMBRANCE
It would be sweet to think when we are old, 7
THE MESSAGE
Wind of the gentle summer night, 8
THE SILENCE OF LOVE
My heart would need the earth, 10
AN IMPROMPTU
The stars are in the ebon sky, 11
FROM THE FARM ON THE HILL
The night wind moves the gloom, 13
AT SCARBORO’ BEACH
The wave is over the foaming reef, 15
THE FIFTEENTH OF APRIL
Pallid saffron glows the broken stubble, 17
IN AN OLD QUARRY
Above the lifeless pools the mist films swim, 19
TO WINTER
Come, O thou conqueror of the flying year, 20
TO WINTER
Come, O thou season of intense repose, 21
THE IDEAL
Let your soul grow a thing apart, 22
A SUMMER STORM
Last night a storm fell on the world, 23
LIFE AND DEATH
I thought of death beside the lonely sea, 25
IN THE COUNTRY CHURCHYARD
This is the acre of unfathomed rest, 26
SONG
I have done, 32
THE MAGIC HOUSE
In her chamber, wheresoe’er, 33
IN THE HOUSE OF DREAMS
The lady Lillian knelt upon the sward, 36
THE RIVER TOWN
There’s a town where shadows run, 38
OFF THE ISLE AUX COUDRES
The moon, Capella, and the Pleiades, 40
AT LES EBOULEMENTS
The bay is set with ashy sails, 41
ABOVE ST. IRÉNÉE
I rested on the breezy height, 42
WRITTEN IN A. LAMPMAN’S POEMS
When April moved in maiden guise, 45
OFF RIVIÈRE DU LOUP
O ship incoming from the sea, 48
AT THE CEDARS
You had two girls--Baptiste-- 50
THE END OF THE DAY
I hear the bells at eventide, 54
THE REED-PLAYER
By a dim shore where water darkening, 56
A FLOCK OF SHEEP
Over the field the bright air clings and tingles, 58
A PORTRAIT
All her hair is softly set, 60
AT THE LATTICE
Good-night, Marie, I kiss thine eyes, 63
THE FIRST SNOW
The field pools gathered into frosted lace, 64
IN NOVEMBER
The ruddy sunset lies, 66
THE SLEEPER
Touched with some divine repose, 68
A NIGHT IN JUNE
The world is heated seven times, 70
MEMORY
I | 2,295.456731 |
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THE DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS M.A. F.R.S.
CLERK OF THE ACTS AND SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY
TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SHORTHAND MANUSCRIPT IN THE PEPYSIAN LIBRARY
MAGDALENE COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE BY THE REV. MYNORS BRIGHT M.A. LATE FELLOW
AND PRESIDENT OF THE COLLEGE
(Unabridged)
WITH LORD BRAYBROOKE'S NOTES
EDITED WITH ADDITIONS BY
HENRY B. WHEATLEY F.S.A.
DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS.
JULY
1667
July 1st. Up betimes, about 9 o'clock, waked by a damned noise between a
sow gelder and a cow and a dog, nobody after we were up being able to tell
us what it was. After being ready we took coach, and, being very sleepy,
droused most part of the way to Gravesend, and there 'light, and down to
the new batterys, which are like to be very fine, and there did hear a
plain fellow cry out upon the folly of the King's officers above, to spend
so much money in works at Woolwich and Deptford, and sinking of good ships
loaden with goods, when, if half the charge had been laid out here, it
would have secured all that, and this place too, before now. And I think
it is not only true in this, but that the best of the actions of us all
are so silly, that the meanest people begin to see through them, and
contemn them. Besides, says he, they spoil the river by it. Then informed
ourselves where we might have some creame, and they guided us to one Goody
Best's, a little out of the towne towards London road, and thither we went
with the coach, and find it a mighty clean, plain house, and had a dish of
very good creame to our liking, and so away presently very merry, and fell
to reading of the several Advices to a Painter, which made us good sport,
and indeed are very witty, and Creed did also repeat to me some of the
substance of letters of old Burleigh in Queen Elizabeth's time, which he
hath of late read in the printed Cabbala, which is a very fine style at
this day and fit to be imitated. With this, and talking and laughing at
the folly of our masters in the management of things at this day, we got
home by noon, where all well, and then to dinner, and after dinner both of
us laid down upon the couch and chairs and to sleep, which I did for an
hour or two, and then to the office, where I am sorry to hear that Sir J.
Minnes is likely to die this night, or to-morrow, I forgot to set down
that we met this morning upon the road with Mrs. Williams going down to my
Lord Bruncker; we bowed without speaking one to another, but I am ashamed
at the folly of the man to have her down at this serious busy time, when
the town and country is full of people and full of censure, and against
him particularly. At Sir W. Batten's my Lady tells me that she hears for
certain that my Lord's maid of his lodging here do give out that Mrs.
Williams hath been fain of late to sell her best clothes and jewels to get
a little money upon, which is a sad condition. Thence to the office, and
did write to my Lord Bruncker to give me a little satisfaction about the
certainty of the chain's being broke, which I begin to doubt, and the more
from Sir W. Pen's discourse. It is worth while to read my letter to him
entered in my letter book. Home in the evening to supper, and so pretty
betimes, about 10 o'clock, to bed, and slept well. This day letters are
come that my sister is very ill.
2nd. Up, and put on my new silke camelott suit, made of my cloak, and
suit now made into a vest. So to the office, where W. Pen and myself, and
Sir T. Harvy met, the first time we have had a meeting since the coming of
the Dutch upon this coast. Our only business (for we have little else to
do, nobody being willing to trust us for anything) was to speak with the
owners of six merchantmen which we have been taking up this fortnight, and
are yet in no readiness, they not fitting their ships without money
advanced to them, we owing them for what their ships have earned the last
year. So every thing stands still for money, while we want money to pay
for some of the most necessary things that we promised ready money for in
the height of our wants, as grapnells, &c. At noon home to dinner, and
after dinner my wife and Jane (mighty fine the girle) to go to see Jane's
old mistress, who was to see her, and did see my wife the other day, and
it is pleasant to hear with what kindness her old mistress speaks of this
girle, and how she would still have her, and how the wench cried when she
told her that she must come to her old mistress my wife. They gone, I to
my chamber, and there dallied a little with my maid Nell. . . . and
so to the office where busy till night, and then comes Mrs. Turner, and
walks with me in the garden to talk with me about her husband's business,
and to tell me how she hears at the other end of the town how bad our
office is spoken of by the King and Prince and Duke of Albemarle, and that
there is not a good word said of any of us but of me; and me they all do
speak mightily of, which, whether true or no, I am mighty glad to hear,
but from all put together that I hear from other people, I am likely to
pass as well as anybody. So, she gone, comes my wife and to walk in the
garden, Sir J. Minnes being still ill and so keeping us from singing, and
by and by Sir W. Pen come and walked with us and gave us a bottle of
Syder, and so we home to supper and to bed. This day I am told that poor
Tooker is dead, a very painfull poor man as ever I knew.
3rd. Up, and within most of the morning, my tailor's boy coming to alter
something in my new suit I put on yesterday. Then to the office and did
business, and then (my wife being a little ill of those in bed) I to Sir
W. Batten's and dined, and there comes in Sir Richard Ford, tells us how
he hath been at the Sessions-house, and there it is plain that there is a
combination of rogues in the town, that do make it their business to set
houses on fire, and that one house they did set on fire in Aldersgate
Streete last Easter; and that this is proved by two young men, whom one of
them debauched by degrees to steal their fathers' plate and clothes, and
at last to be of their company; and they had their places to take up what
goods were flung into the streets out of the windows, when the houses were
on fire; and this is like to be proved to a great number of rogues,
whereof five are already found, and some found guilty this day. One of
these boys is the son of a Montagu, of my Lord Manchester's family; but
whose son he could not tell me. This is a strange thing methinks, but I
am glad that it is proved so true and discovered. So home, and to enter
my Journall of my late journey to this hour, and then to the office, where
to do a little business, and then by water to White Hall (calling at
Michell's in my way, but the rogue would not invite me in, I having a mind
para voir his wife), and there to the Council-chamber, to deliver a letter
to their Lordships about the state of the six merchantmen which we have
been so long fitting out. When I come, the King and the whole table full
of Lords were hearing of a pitifull cause of a complaint of an old man,
with a great grey beard, against his son, for not allowing him something
to live on; and at last come to the ordering the son to allow his father
L10 a year. This cause lasted them near two hours; which, methinks, at
this time to be the work of the Council-board of England, is a scandalous
thing, and methought Sir W. Coventry to me did own as much. Here I find
all the newes is the enemy's landing 3,000 men near Harwich,
[Richard Browne, writing to Williamson from Aldeburgh, on July 2nd,
says: "The Dutch fleet of 80 sail has anchored in the bay; they were
expected to land, but they tacked about, and stood first northward
and then southward, close by Orford lighthouse, and have now passed
the Ness towards Harwich; they have fired no guns, but made false
fires" ("Calendar of State Papers," 1667, p. 258).]
and attacking Landguard Fort, and being beat off thence with our great
guns, killing some of their men, and they leaving their ladders behind
them; but we had no Horse in the way on Suffolk side, otherwise we might
have galled their Foot. The Duke of York is gone down thither this day,
while the General sat sleeping this afternoon at the Council-table. The
news so much talked of this Exchange, of a peace, I find by Sir Richard
Browne arises from a letter the Swedes' agent hath received from Bredah
and shewed at Court to-day, that they are come very near it, but I do not
find anybody here relying upon it. This cause being over, the Trinity
House men, whom I did not expect to meet, were called in, and there Sir W.
Pen made a formal speech in answer to a question of the King's, whether
the lying of the sunk ships in the river would spoil the river. But, Lord!
how gingerly he answered it, and with a deal of do that he did not know
whether it would be safe as to the enemy to have them taken up, but that
doubtless it would be better for the river to have them taken up.
Methought the Council | 2,295.460428 |
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[Illustration: Dr. Gunning's House, overlooking the Valley of Macacos]
BRAZIL
AND
THE RIVER PLATE
IN 1868:
BY
WILLIAM HADFIELD,
SHOWING THE PROGRESS OF THOSE COUNTRIES SINCE HIS FORMER VISIT IN 1853.
[Illustration]
LONDON:
BATES, HENDY AND CO., 4, OLD JEWRY, E.C.
1869.
ENT. STA. HALL.
DUNLOP & CO., PRINTERS,
King's Head Court, Shoe Lane, E.C.
CONTENTS.
THE VOYAGE OUT 9
THE CITY OF MONTE VIDEO 25
THE CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO 31
THE WAR IN PARAGUAY 45
THE PROVINCE OF SAN PAULO 51
THE SAN PAULO RAILWAY 55
THE CITY OF SAN PAULO 66
SAN PAULO TO SANTOS AND RIO DE JANEIRO 83
TRIP TO JUIZ DE FORA.—THE DON PEDRO SEGUNDO RAILWAY 86
RIO DE JANEIRO TO THE RIVER PLATE, SECOND TRIP 99
CITY OF BUENOS AYRES 103
BUENOS AYRES TO COLONIA—ESTANZUELLA 107
TRIP ON THE CENTRAL ARGENTINE RAILWAY 112
THE WESTERN RAILWAY OF BUENOS AYRES 125
BUENOS AYRES—SECOND NOTICE 131
PROGRESS OF STEAM NAVIGATION ON LA PLATA 142
RAILWAYS IN THE RIVER PLATE 146
EMIGRATION TO BRAZIL 154
EMIGRATION TO THE RIVER PLATE 158
RAILWAYS IN BRAZIL 164
COMMERCE OF BRAZIL AND THE RIVER PLATE 173
THE RIVER AMAZON 185
TELEGRAPHIC COMMUNICATIONS 197
RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS 200
THE AFFLUENTS OF LA PLATA 203
THE REPUBLIC OF PARAGUAY 206
BRAZILIAN CURRENCY 217
ARGENTINE FINANCES 231
THE PORT AND HARBOUR OF SANTOS 239
THE VOYAGE HOME 245
APPENDIX OF OFFICIAL AND OTHER DOCUMENTS 253
ERRATA.
Page 132.—For Club “El Temple” read “Del Parque.”
Page 167.—Transpose in table words “Revenue” and “Working.”
Page 169.—For “£150,000” read “£15,000.”
PREFACE.
This work makes no pretentions to literary merit, but, as its title
indicates, is simply a narrative descriptive of the progress of the
countries specially referred to, which, though England has long
maintained intimate commercial relations with them, are still but very
imperfectly known to the British public. In the Old World generations
follow each other without any very perceptible alteration being
observable in the characteristic surroundings, but in the New World, as
America is still termed, a few years often effect changes of the most
important and striking description. This is notably the case as respects
Brazil and the River Plate, the growth of which has been very
remarkable.
Since the year 1854, when my former work was published, a large amount
of English capital has been invested in various enterprises connected
with Brazil and the River Plate, and particularly for the construction
of railways, the formation of banks, and the promotion of steam
navigation on the great Rivers communicating with the interior. If the
results have not, in several instances, proved wholly satisfactory as
regards the distribution of dividends, the fact is in a considerable
degree, if not | 2,295.461295 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
produced from images made available by the HathiTrust
Digital Library.)
THE IRIS.
[Illustration: PRESENTED To
C. Schuessele del. Chromolith of P. S. Duval Ph.]
[Illustration:
C. Schuessele del. | 2,295.463364 |
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Produced by Martin Pettit 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: |
| |
|The Erratum note has been applied to the text. |
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|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. |
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+-------------------------------------------------+
MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD.
[Illustration]
MEN WE MEET IN
THE FIELD.
BY A. G. BAGOT ("BAGATELLE").
[Illustration]
1881.
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND,
LONDON.
MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD
OR
THE BULLSHIRE HOUNDS.
BY A. G. BAGOT ("BAGATELLE"),
AUTHOR OF "SPORTING SKETCHES IN THREE CONTINENTS."
London:
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND.
1881.
[_All rights reserved._]
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS,
CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
PREFACE.
The present series of Sketches in the Hunting Field have, from time to
time, appeared in the columns of _The Country Gentleman and Sporting
Gazette_, to the Editor of which journal I am indebted for leave to
reprint them. All, or nearly all, the characters I have endeavoured to
portray have come under my personal observation, and are from life; but
I have done my utmost to avoid depicting peculiarities that might serve
to identify my models, or using personalities that might offend them.
In placing MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD before the public, beyond
acknowledging that I have perhaps not done full justice to the subject,
I offer no apology; for anything said or done, painted or written, that
serves in any way to call attention to our glorious old national sport,
or to recall perchance the scenes of our youth, is not done amiss. In
that it is one more stone, however humble, in the wall of defence which,
alas! it is now becoming necessary to build against the attacks of those
whose aim seems to be the demolition of all sport, dazzled as they are
by the glamour of notoriety, won by sensational legislation, at the
expense of all that has made England what she is, and her sons and
daughters what they are.
I do not for a moment wish to enter into political argument. In the
Field, Liberal and Conservative, Radical and Home-Ruler, meet as one,
save only in the struggle for the lead. But what I do hold is that, by
measures such as the Ground Game Bill and the Abolition of all Freedom
of Contract, our national sports are fast being blotted out, and that it
behoves all true sportsmen to array themselves against such things.
Of the matter contained in the volume I am now sending on its way,
others must judge. I confess that I have enjoyed the writing of it. If I
am fortunate enough to find some at least who enjoy the reading I shall
be content, and shall feel I have not laboured in vain.
To those who so kindly received my maiden venture, "Sporting Sketches"
(Messrs. Swan, Sonnenschein, and Allen), I offer my best thanks. Like a
young hound who has not felt too much whipcord, encouragement has given
confidence. I can only hope I may not have flashed over the line.
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY 1
THE MASTER 8
THE HUNTSMAN 16
THE WHIPS 26
THE SECRETARY 35
THE FARMER 46
THE PARSON 58
THE DOCTOR 72
THE DEALERS 84
THE GRUMBLER 98
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND RIDES 113
THE LADY WHO HUNTS AND DOES NOT RIDE 126
THE SCHOOLBOYS 139
THE BOASTER 154
HODGE 169
THE KEEPER 182
THE AUTHORITY 197
THE BLACKSMITH 212
THE RUNNER 225
THE MAN AT THE TOLL-BAR 237
WHO-WHOOP! 247
THE FIRST OF THE SEASON 257
UNCLE JOHN'S NEW HORSE 262
THE HOG-BACKED STILE 287
ERRATUM.
_For_ "Hollo!" _read throughout_ "Holloa!"
MEN WE MEET IN THE FIELD.
INTRODUCTORY.
For those fond of studying character under various circumstances and in
various positions, there is, perhaps, no medium affording so good an
opportunity, or so vast a scope, as the hunting-field.
There more than in any other place do men's characters appear in their
true lights. At the covert-side the irritable man, however well he may
on ordinary occasions be able to conceal his irritability, will fret and
fume if things do not go exactly as he wishes. The boaster, who in the
safety of his armchair astonishes his friends with anecdotes of his own
daring exploits, is, after a fast forty minutes, more often than not
weighed in the balance and found wanting. The garrulous individual, who
invariably knows where the fox has gone and what the huntsman ought to
do, is in the field estimated at his proper value. There also the
grumblers never fail to find a grievance, nor the elder generations of
sportsmen to lament the "good old days gone by." In fact, the
"bell-mouthed pack and tuneful horn" seem to act in some occult way in
bringing out the idiosyncrasies of all their followers. This being so, a
few sketches may not be uninteresting, and I shall endeavour to draw
with my pen some portraits of those with whom we yearly ride, and who
are so well known to most of us. To do this the more concisely, I
propose to describe the field, subscribers, visitors, and others, who
are to be found at the meets from the 1st of November to the end of
April, and who go to make up the members of that justly celebrated
pack--the Bullshire Hounds. Before individualising, however, it will be
necessary to give a short history of the hunt, with a brief outline of
the country, and its gradual growth.
The Bullshire country is one of the oldest in England, and was
originally hunted on what is known as the "Trencher system," that is
everybody, in lieu of paying a subscription, kept (according to his
means) one or more hounds, which he was bound to bring with him to the
spot selected by the Master (who was yearly elected as huntsman) for the
meet. No sinecure was the office of M.F.H., carrying the horn, for as
every hound recognised the rule of a different Master, and every Master
considered himself entitled to an opinion in the case of his own hound,
there was a good deal of jealousy among the latter and no small amount
of "tail" among the former. The "tailing," however, was augmented by the
different system of preparation and feeding the Bullshire Hounds
received, for while Bellman before hunting was treated to no supper,
Truelove had to deal with a sumptuous repast placed before her by the
compassionate but ignorant goodwife, "who couldn't abear the idea of the
old dog doing all that work on an empty stomach."
After a little the system proved unsatisfactory, and a step in the
proper direction was taken. Old Gregory the Whip was sent round early in
the morning the day before the meet to collect the pack, and it thus
became his business to see that all fared alike--wisely, and not too
well. From this it was an easy stage to kennels, and somehow, before the
inhabitants knew how it happened, they found themselves paying their
subscriptions with and without a murmur, and were able to point with
pride to the Bullshire kennels. Once this an accomplished fact,
everything went on smoothly; and from old Gregory and a Master whose
office was the subject of an annual election, they now turn out a
huntsman, two whips, and a second horseman, and, for a provincial pack,
stand first on the list.
Their present Master is one of the right sort, who takes an interest in
his hounds and his servants, perhaps at times a little free with his
tongue, but only when absolutely necessary, and it is because of their
large and varied field that I have selected the Bullshire for
description. The country, though not a flying one, has a fair share of
grass, and is acknowledged by all to hold a good scent. As there is
every conceivable sort of obstacle, of every conceivable size, shape,
and form, wet and dry, it requires a clever horse to get over it.
Indeed, when some of the swells from the Shires condescend to patronise
the Bullshire (no uncommon occurrence, by-the-way), there are generally
two or three to be found, like water, at the bottom of a ditch.
I remember hearing a description of his day by a Meltonian, when he
returned to his quarters with a battered head-piece and covered in mud.
In reply to a question of "Where had he been?" he said: "Lord knows
where I have not been. To the bottom of about ten ditches, three
brooks, nearly into a gravel-pit, hung up in a bullfinch for five
minutes, and almost broke my neck at the biggest post and rails I ever
saw." "Well," continued his interlocutor, "did you have a good run?"
"Run!" said he; "I believe you! Ran three miles after my horse and then
nicked in, and was up at the finish. Blessed if ever I saw such a
country. They think nothing of an hour and ten minutes, and they do
stick to it, I can tell you; fox hasn't a chance with the Bullshire.
It's for all the world like a stoat and a hare. Rare place to send
creditor to; give him a mount on a green nag, he's bound to kill
himself."
Added to these advantages, so ably set forth by the Leicestershire
sportsman, foxes are plentiful, and, with one notable exception, of whom
more anon, everybody looks after them, and does his best to demonstrate
the fact that the fox and the pheasant can both be preserved, despite
what Velveteens and his myrmidons may say. The man who rules the
destinies of this sporting pack will form the subject of my first
sketch.
THE MASTER.
"Morning, gentlemen," accompanied by a bow to the ladies, apprises us of
the fact that Sir John Lappington has arrived, and as we turn round in
our saddles we | 2,295.465017 |
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THE
QUARTERLY REVIEW.
NO. CCCXXIV. APRIL, 1886. VOL. CLXII.
CONTENTS:
I. Matthew Parish
II. The Christian Brothers.--Religious Schools in France and England.
III. Archives of the Venetian Republic.
IV. Yeomen Farmers in Norway.
V. Oliver Cromwell: his character illustrated by himself.
VI. Travels in the British Empire.
VII. The Bishop of Durham on the Ignatian Epistles.
VIII. Books and Reading.
IX. Characteristics of Democracy.
X. The Gladstone-Morley Administration.
PHILADELPHIA:
LEONARD SCOTT PUBLICATION COMPANY,
1104 WALNUT STREET.
THE
LEONARD SCOTT PUBLICATION CO'S.,
PERIODICALS.
Single Copies for sale by the following Dealers in Cities named:
BALTIMORE, MD., Baltimore News Co., Sun. Iron Building.
BOSTON, MASS., Cupples, Upham & Co., 283 Washington St.
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CINCINNATI, OHIO. Robert Clarke & Co., 61 West 4th, St.
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HAMILTON, CANADA. J. Eastwood & Co.,
MONTREAL, CANADA. Dawson Bros., 233 St. James St.
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NEW YORK CITY, N. Y., Brentano Bros., 5 Union Square.
PHILADELPHIA, PA., Leonard Scott Pub. Co., 1104 Walnut St.
PROVIDENCE, R. I., S. S. Rider.
RICHMOND, VA., Beckwith & Parham.
SAN FRANCISCO, CAL., J. C. Scott. 22 Third St.
ST. JOHN, N. B., A. & J. McMillan. 98 Prince William St.
ST. LOUIS, MO., St. Louis News Co.,
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VICTORIA, BR. COL., T. H. Hibben & Co., Masonic Building.
WASHINGTON, D. C., Brentano Bros., 1015 Penna. Av.
_Annual Subscriptions Received by all Booksellers and Newsdealers._
THE LEONARD SCOTT PUB. CO.,
1104 WALNUT STREET.
PHILADELPHIA, PA.
CONTENTS OF NO. 324.
Art. Page
I.--Matthaei Parisiensis, Monachi Sancti Albani, Chronica
Majora. Edited by Henry Richards Luard, D.D., Fellow of
Trinity College, Registrary of the University, and Vicar of
Great St. Mary's Cambridge. Published by the Authority of
the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty's Treasury, under the
direction of the Master of the Rolls. 7 vols. 8vo. London,
Vol I. 1872--Vol. VII. 1883. 293
II.--1. The Christian Brothers, their Origin and Work, with
a sketch of the Life of their Founder, The Venerable Jean
Baptiste de la Salle. By Mrs. R. F. Wilson. London, 1883.
2. La Premiere Annee d'Instruction Morale et Civique:
notions de droit et d'economie politique (Textes et Recits)
pour repondre a la loi du 28 Mars 1882 sur l'enseignement
prima | 2,295.505282 |
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An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger
WAR AND PEACE
By Leo Tolstoy/Tolstoi
CONTENTS
BOOK ONE: 1805
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
BOOK TWO: 1805
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
BOOK THREE: 1805
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
BOOK FOUR: 1806
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
BOOK FIVE: 1806 - 07
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
BOOK SIX: 1808 - 10
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
BOOK SEVEN: 1810 - 11
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
BOOK EIGHT: 1811 - 12
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
BOOK NINE: 1812
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
BOOK TEN: 1812
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIV
CHAPTER XXXV
CHAPTER XXXVI
CHAPTER XXXVII
CHAPTER XXXVIII
CHAPTER XXXIX
BOOK ELEVEN: 1812
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIV
BOOK TWELVE: 1812
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 - 13
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 - 20
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
SECOND EPILOGUE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
BOOK ONE: 1805
CHAPTER I
“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the
Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war,
if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that
Antichrist—I really believe he is Antichrist—I will have nothing
more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my
‘faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see I
have frightened you—sit down and tell me all the news.”
It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna Pávlovna
Schérer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Márya Fëdorovna.
With these words she greeted Prince Vasíli Kurágin, a man of high
rank and importance, who was the first to arrive at her reception. Anna
Pávlovna had had a cough for some days. She was, as she said, suffering
from la grippe; grippe being then a new word in St. Petersburg, used
only by the elite.
All her invitations without exception, written in French, and delivered
by a scarlet-liveried footman that morning, ran as follows:
“If you have nothing better to do, Count (or Prince), and if the
prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too terrible,
I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and 10—Annette
Schérer.”
“Heavens! what a virulent attack!” replied the prince, not in the
least disconcerted by this reception. He had just entered, wearing an
embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on
his breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke in that
refined French in which our grandfathers not only spoke but thought, and
with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a man of importance
who had grown old in society and at court. He went up to Anna Pávlovna,
kissed her hand, | 2,295.50646 |
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Produced by Sharon Partridge and Martin Ward. HTML version
by Al Haines.
Persuasion
by
Jane Austen
(1818)
Chapter 1
Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who,
for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there
he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed
one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by
contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest | 2,295.50728 |
2023-11-16 18:55:19.5376940 | 2,255 | 6 |
Produced by sp1nd, Josephine Paolucci and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive.)
The Great Airship
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW
BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY
BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED
1118 Bay Street, TORONTO
[Illustration: "AIRSHIP IN SIGHT, SIR!"
_Page_ 180
_Frontispiece_]
The Great Airship
A Tale of Adventure
BY
LT.-COL. F. S. BRERETON
Author of "A Boy of the Dominion" "The Hero of Panama" "On the Field of
Waterloo" "John Bargreave's Gold" &c.
_Illustrated by C. M. Padday_
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW
* * * * *
By Lt.-Col. F. S. Brereton
On the Field of Waterloo.
The Great Airship.
With the Allies to the Rhine.
Under French's Command.
Colin the Scout.
With Allenby in Palestine.
A Hero of Panama.
Foes of the Red Cockade.
Under the Chinese Dragon.
A Sturdy Young Canadian.
How Canada was Won.
John Bargreave's Gold.
With Shield and Assegai.
With Rifle and Bayonet.
In the King's Service.
The Dragon of Pekin.
One of the Fighting Scouts.
A Knight of St. John.
Roger the Bold.
The Rough Riders of the Pampas.
Indian and Scout.
The Great Aeroplane.
Tom Stapleton.
A Boy of the Dominion.
_Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow_
Contents
CHAP. Page
I. THE FAME OF THE ZEPPELIN 9
II. ANDREW PROVOST'S RESOLUTION 25
III. DICKY HAMSHAW, MIDSHIPMAN 42
IV. THE GREAT AIRSHIP 58
V. A TOUR OF INSPECTION 77
VI. CARL REITBERG, SPORTSMAN 94
VII. EN ROUTE FOR ADRIANOPLE 111
VIII. THE BESIEGED CITY 126
IX. DICK HAMSHAW SAVES THE SITUATION 144
X. A THRILLING RESCUE 166
XI. SOME FACTS AND FIGURES 187
XII. CARL ABOARD THE BIPLANE 203
XIII. TO THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER 222
XIV. A BRUSH WITH PATHANS 243
XV. THE GREAT ATTEMPT 260
XVI. RECORD HIGH FLYING 277
XVII. A DESPERATE SITUATION 297
XVIII. OFF TO NEW GUINEA 313
XIX. SAVED FROM THE NATIVES 331
XX. ADOLF FRUHMANN'S VENTURE 349
Illustrations
Facing Page
"AIRSHIP IN SIGHT, SIR!" Frontispiece
ARRIVED WITH A BUMP FACING COMMANDER JACKSON 80
THE COLLAPSE OF CARL REITBERG 272
THE QUARTET SET OUT FOR THE AIRSHIP 320
THE GREAT AIRSHIP
CHAPTER I
The Fame of the Zeppelin
There are exceptions, we suppose, to almost every rule, and this
particular Friday towards the end of June was such an exception. It was
fine. Not a cloud flecked the sun-lit sky. A glorious blue expanse hung
over a sea almost as blue, but criss-crossed in all directions by the
curling white tops of tiny wavelets, all that remained to remind one of
the atrocious weather which had prevailed. For the North Sea, Europe,
Great Britain, everywhere in fact, had been treated to a succession of
violent gales, to a continuous deluge of rain, to bitter hail, and
squalls of snow in some parts. And here and now, off the mouth of the
river Elbe the sun shone, the sky was a delight, a balmy breeze fanned
the cheeks of the passengers crowding the decks of the Hamburg-Amerika
liner.
"What a change! I began to wonder whether there was such a season as
summer. Have a cigar?"
Mr. Andrew Provost drew from an inner pocket of his jacket a
silver-mounted case, pulled the lid off and offered one of the contents
to his nephew.
"Not that one, Joe," he said, as the young man beside him placed his
long fingers on one of the weeds. "It's Dutch. Not that they're not good
smokes; I like 'em sometimes. But give me a Havana, and offer one to
your friends. There! That one! You'll like it."
"Thanks! I know 'em, Uncle. You always give me your best."
There was a smile on the handsome face of the young man as he obeyed the
directions of his Uncle Andrew. It was obvious indeed from their smiles,
the manner in which they paced the deck arm in arm, and from the
intimacy of their conversation, that the two were on the best of terms.
And why not? They were related, as we have stated. Then they had for
long been separated. Mr. Andrew Provost had not always been the
comfortable-looking individual he now appeared. For prosperous and
comfortable he looked without a doubt. Florid and sunburned, with white
hair and moustache which made his complexion seem to be even more ruddy,
he was tall, and slight, and gracefully if not robustly built. There was
something of a military air about him, and we whisper the truth when we
say that he was often enough taken for an old soldier, much to his own
secret gratification. Dark grey eyes looked out genially from a smiling
face upon the world and his fellows. His forehead was hardly seamed.
Care, in fact, seemed to have failed in its effort to reach him, or,
more likely perhaps, his genial, plucky nature had caused it to fall
easily from his shoulders. For the rest he was exceedingly well groomed,
and looked what he was, a prosperous, healthy gentleman.
"But it wasn't always like that, Joe," he told his companion, as they
paced the deck, basking in the sun. "Your Uncle Andrew wasn't always the
stylish dog he looks now. Not by a long way. I've been on my beam ends."
"Ah! Exactly."
"Know what that means?"
"To a certain extent. When you came home last Christmas I was down in
the dumps. Absolutely on my beam ends."
Andrew Provost turned to look with some astonishment at his nephew. He
inspected him critically from the top of his glossy Homburg hat to the
well-polished brown shoes which he wore. And the face finally drew all
his attention.
"Impossible!" he declared politely. "Joe on his beam ends! Joe in the
dumps--never!"
"True as possible, sir--I was desperate," repeated Joe, his face grave
for that moment.
"Well, well, perhaps so. I'm forgetting. I was young like you when I was
down. Young fellows make light of such matters. It's as well, perhaps,
or the world wouldn't go along half so easily. But I'd never have
thought it, Joe. You never said a word to me; you look so jolly."
No one would have denied the fact. Joe Gresson looked what he was, a
handsome, jovial fellow of twenty-seven. Fair and tall, and broader than
his uncle, he had deep-set eyes which gave to his smiling face an air of
cleverness. And the young fellow was undoubtedly clever. An engineer by
profession, he had graduated at Cambridge, had passed through the shops,
the drawing office, and other departments of one of the biggest
engineering concerns in England, and had finally struck out a line for
himself. He had been experimenting for the past four years.
"What's the good of being miserable because things don't go right,
Uncle?" he said with a smile. "I've told you how I took up engineering.
Well, I thought I had a good idea. I left the shops at Barrow and worked
on my own. Thanks to the few thousands I possessed I was able to carry
out some important experiments."
"Ah, my boy! Well, you succeeded?"
"Yes and no; I went so far with the work that I was sure that success
was possible. Then there was an accident. The whole affair was wrecked,
and I woke up to find myself without funds and in a terrible condition
of despair."
"On your beam ends, in fact--well, like me," said Mr. Andrew. "I'll tell
you about myself; then you'll give your yarn. I'll have to hear what
this work was. But my tale don't take long. Let's step up and down again
and I'll give it to you. Let's see--yes, I was a fiery, unmanageable
young idiot."
"Never!" interjected Joe.
"Like many other young fellows," proceeded Andrew, as if he had not been
interrupted. "I bluntly refused the post which my father offered me, and
cut away from home. I went to Canada, worked my way out aboard the
steamer, a cockleshell in those days, and half starved for the next few
months, for it was in the winter and there was no work to be had. But I
learned something. In the six months which followed my landing I acted
as a cook's boy, a porter, a fireman, and a clerk in a grocery store.
That's where I had my eyes opened. The country was opening up. I had
saved a few dollars. I set up a store of my own in one of the nearest
settlements, a mere hut knocked together with the help of a hammer and
some nails. But it paid. I saved all along. I built a real brick house,
and the sales went up like wildfire. Then I chose a manager and opened
up a second store away in the nearest | 2,295.557734 |
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Transcribed from the 1914 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email
[email protected]
TORD OF HAFSBOROUGH
AND OTHER BALLADS
BY
GEORGE BORROW
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION
1914
_Copyright in the United States of America_
_by Houghton_, _Mifflin and Co. for Clement Shorter_.
TORD OF HAFSBOROUGH
It was Tord of Hafsborough,
O'er the verdant wold would ride,
And there he lost his hammer of gold,
'Twas lost for so long a tide.
It was Tord of Hafsborough,
His brother he addressed:
"Thou shalt away to the Norland hills,
My hammer be thy quest."
It was Lokke Leyemand,
A feather robe o'er him drew;
And away to the Norland mountains high
O'er the briny sea he flew.
In the midst of the castle yard
He smoothed his array;
Then straight he took to the castle hall,
To the carlish Count his way.
"Be welcome, Lokke Leyemand,
Be welcome my castle to;
Say! how fare things in Hafsborough?
With the land how does it go?"
"O, well fare things in Hafsborough,
And well in the country all;
Tord has his golden hammer lost,
Therefore seek I your hall."
"Tord he shall not his hammer get,
Thou back may'st carry him word;
Full five-and-ninety fathoms deep
It lies in the earth interred.
"Tord he shall not his hammer get,
To thee I vow and swear,
Save he give me Damsel Fridleifsborg,
With all his goods and gear."
It was Lokke Leyemand,
O'er himself the feather robe drew;
And with his answer back amain
O'er the briny sea he flew.
"Thou never wilt get thy hammer of gold,
Upon that thou may'st rely,
Unless he have Damsel Fridleifsborg,
And all our property."
Then answered straight the proud Damsel,
Upon the bench as she sate:
"Ye'd better give me a Christian man,
Than the laidly trold for mate.
"But we will take our old father,
And deck so fine his head,
And we'll carry him to the Northern hills,
To stand for bride in my stead."
And now to the house of the merry bridegroom
They the young old bride convey;
Upon her dress no gold was spared,
For a verity I say.
And so they took the lovely bride,
On the bride-bench placed her frame;
And to skink before the bride himself
The carlish Count he came.
Then she ate six oxen bodies,
And three fat swine beside;
Loaves seven hundred were her meal,
Ere for a draught she cried.
Before her thirst she could assuage
She drank ten casks of ale;
She set the can once more to her mouth
And to hickuping then she fell.
The carlish Count strode up and down,
And wrung his hands so sore:
"O whence can this young bride be come?
She does so much devour!"
The Count he called to his Botelere:
"Thou hadst better broach away,
For we have here such a wondrous bride,
She'll drink for ever and aye."
Answered then Lokke Leyemand,
'Neath his sleeve he laughed with glee:
"For full eight days she has not ate.
She longed so much for thee."
Outspake the laidly carlish Count,
And thus the Count did cry:
"O, call ye in my serving swains,
Bid them come instantly.
"Go, fetch me hither the hammer of gold,
Glad I'll surrender it;
If I can either in honour or shame,
Of such a young bride be quit."
The Kempions eight in number were,
Who the hammer brought on a tree;
They laid it down so courteously
Across the young bride's knee.
It was then the youthful bride
Took up the hammer big;
I tell to ye for a verity
She swung it like a twig.
First she slew the carlish count,
That throld both laid and tall;
And then as they strove to'scape through the door,
She slew the little trolds all.
The guests and the Norland men each one
So downcast were of mood;
Blows from the hand of the bride they got
That robbed their cheeks of blood.
It was Lokke Leyemand,
He opened his mouth in game:
"Now we will fare to our country home,
And our sire a widow proclaim."
FROM THE ARABIC
O thou who fain would'st wisdom gain,
Live night and day untired;
For by repeated toil and pain
It is alone acquired.
THORVALD
_Svend Tveskjeg havde sig en Maud_
Swayne Tveskieg did a man possess,
Sir Thorvald hight;
Though fierce in war, kind acts in peace
Were his delight.
From port to port his vessels fast
Sailed wide around,
And made, where'er they anchor cast,
His name renown'd.
_But Thorvald has freed his King_.
Prisoners he bought--clothes, liberty,
On them bestowed,
And sent men home from slavery
To their abode.
And many an old man got his boy,
His age's stay;
And many a maid her youth's sole joy,
Her lover gay.
_But Thorvald has freed his King_.
A brave fight Thorvald loved full dear,
For brave his mood;
But never did he dip his spear
In feeble blood.
He followed Swayne to many a fray
With war-shield bright,
And his mere presence scar'd away
Foul deeds of might.
_But Thorvald has freed his King_.
They hoist sail on the lofty mast,
It was King Swayne,
He o'er the bluey billows pass'd
With armed train.
His mind to harry Bretland {13a} boiled;
He leapt on shore
And every, every thing recoiled
His might before.
_But Thorvald has freed his King_.
Yet slept not Bretland's chieftain good;
He speedily
Collected a host in the dark wood
Of cavalry.
And evil through that subtle plan
Befell the Dane;
They were ta'en prisoners every man,
And last King Swayne.
_But Thorvald has freed his King_.
"Now hear thou prison-foogd! {13b} and pray
My message heed;
Unto the castle take thy way,
Thence Thorvald lead!
Prison and chains become him not,
Whose gallant hand
So many a handsome lad has brought
From slavery's band."
_But Thorvald has freed his King_.
The man brought this intelligence
To the bower's door,
But Thorvald, with loud vehemence,
"I'll not go," swore.
"What--go, and leave my sovereign here,
In durance sore?
No! Thorvald then ne'er worthy were
To lift shield more."
_But Thorvald has freed his King_.
What cannot noble souls effect?
Both freedom gain
Through Thorvald's prayer, and the respect
His deeds obtain.
And from that hour unto his grave,
Swayne ever show'd
Towards his youth's friend, so true and brave,
Fit gratitude.
_But Thorvald has freed his King_.
Swayne Tveskieg sat with kings one tide,
O'er mead and beer,
The cushion soft he stroaked and cried,
"Sit, Thorvald, here.
Thy father ne'er rul'd land like me
And my compeers!
But yarl and nobleman is he
Whose fame thine nears.
_For Thorvald has freed his King_."
PETER COLBIORNSEN
'Fore Fredereksteen King Carl he lay
With mighty host;
But Frederekshal from day to day,
Much trouble cost.
To seize the sword each citizen
His tools let fall,
And valiant Peter Colbiornsen
Was first of all.
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
'Gainst Frederekshal so fierce and grim
Turned Carl his might,
The citizens encountered him
In numbers slight,
But ah, they fought like Northern men,
For much loved land,
And it was Peter Colbiornsen
That led the band.
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
Such heavy blows the Norsemen deal
Amid the foe,
Like ripe corn 'fore the reaper's steel
The Swedes sink low.
But sturdiest reaper weary will,
So happ'd it here;
Though many the Norwegians kill,
More, more appear.
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
Before superior force they flew,
As Norsemen fly,
They but retired, the fight anew
Unawed to ply.
Now o'er the bodies of his slain
His way Carl makes;
He thinks he has the city ta'en,
But he mistakes.
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
A speedy death his soldiers found
Where'er they came;
For Norse were posted all around,
And greeted them;
Then Carl he sent, but sorely vext,
To Fredereksteen,
And begg'd that he might bury next
His slaughtered men.
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
"No time, no time to squander e'er
Have Norsemen bold,
He came self-bidden'mongst us here,"
Thus Carl was told;
"If we can drive him back agen,
We now must try!"
And it was Peter Colbiornsen
Made that reply.
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
Lo! from the town the flames outburst,
High-minded men!
And he who fired his house the first
Was Colbiornsen.
Eager to quench the fire, the foes
Make quick resort,
But bullets fell as fast as snows
Down from the fort.
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
Now rose the blazes toward the sky,
Red, terrible,
His heroes' death the King thereby
Could see right well.
Sir Peter's word he then made good,
His host retires;
But in his path the steen it stood,
And on him fires.
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
Magnificent'midst corse and blood
Glowed Frederekshal;
Illum'd its own men's courage proud,
And Swedesmen's fall.
Whoe'er saw pile funereal flame
So bright as then?
Sure never shall expire thy name,
O Colbiornsen!
_Thus for Norroway fight the Norsemen_.
KRAGELILL
'Twas noised about, 'twas noised about,
Full far 'twas noised I ween;
King Sigurd has his daughter lost,
She stolen from him has been.
It was gallant King Sigurd then
His bonnet he put on;
And he away to the high, high hall
To his courtmen and knights is gone.
They cast the die upon the board,
The die it rolled around;
It fell upon Regnfred, the King's son,
He to seek the maid is bound.
About the world for one winter,
And for winters five he sought;
But he in all that weary tide
Could hear of the maiden nought.
It was Regnfred, the King's son,
Through the green wood rode his way;
And there met him a little stranger lad,
About the break of day.
"Now do thou hear, thou stranger lad,
All that I say to thee;
The very next maid that thou know'st of
Do thou shew unto me."
"And do thou hear, thou fair young swain
I pray I may not offend,
But the very next maid that I know of
Sir Tabor's goats doth tend.
"Her kirtle is of kid-skin made,
Her mantle of wadmal grey,
Her locks, which shine like gleamy gold,
Adown her shoulders stray."
Then he rode o'er the meadows green,
And through the brake and thorn,
And there did he the maiden find,
She drove her goats from the corn.
He took her tenderly in his arm,
Kissed her on her cheek so fair:
"I entreat thee now by the highest God,
Thy father to me declare."
"An ancient man my father is,
Tends goats in the morass;
Kragelill I myself am called,
Can I boast of my birth, alas!"
It was Regnfred, the King's son,
In haste drew out his knife:
"Thou shalt to me thy father name,
Or thou shall lose thy life."
"Sigurd the King my father is,
His Queen my mother dear;
And I myself am Swanelill,
Name fitting for me to bear."
Then o'er her threw the mantle blue
Regnfred, the King's good son;
He lifted her so courteously
His courser grey upon.
And he rode o'er the meadows green,
And over the plains so wide;
Behind him came running an ancient man,
And so loud on Kragelill cried.
But the swain gave him both silver and gold,
Contented away he hied;
Then he unhindered did carry the maid
To her father's halls of pride.
Now has Regnfred, the King's son,
O'ercome his dire distress;
He sleeps each night so joyously
In the arms of his princess.
And now is Damsel Swanelill
To kith and kin restored;
So joyously she sleeps each night
With Regnfred her wedded lord.
ALLEGAST
The Count such a store of gold had got,
His equal for wealth in the land was not.
But the Count he had of a hare the heart,
At the slightest thing he with fear would start.
Yet at last he grew of courage so rife,
That he wooed the King's daughter to be his wife.
Then answer made Carl, the son of the King:
I ne'er will consent to such shameful thing.
"For he served my father like a knave,
He'll not bear on his helm the stroke of a glaive.
"Last year the King's coursers he helped to groom,
This year he'll to wed the King's daughter presume."
Nought booted all Carl, the King's son, could say;
'Gainst the wish of her brother they gave her away.
Dreamt Carl, the King's son, on | 2,295.557785 |
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Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
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_SPECIAL EDITION_
WITH THE WORLD'S
GREAT TRAVELLERS
EDITED BY CHARLES MORRIS
AND OLIVER H. G. LEIGH
VOL. III
CHICAGO
UNION BOOK COMPANY
1901
COPYRIGHT 1896 AND 1897
BY
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
COPYRIGHT 1901
E. R. DUMONT
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL, CITY OF MEXICO]
CONTENTS.
SUBJECT. AUTHOR. PAGE
London, Glasgow, Dublin, Manchester,
Liverpool OLIVER H. G. LEIGH 5
Kenilworth and Warwick Castles ELIHU BURRITT 25
Windsor Forest and Castle ANONYMOUS 36
The Aspect of London HIPPOLYTE TAINE 47
Westminster Abbey NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 56
The Gardens at Kew JULIAN HAWTHORNE 64
Chatsworth Castle JOHN LEYLAND 75
King Arthur's Land J. YOUNG 84
The English Lake District AMELIA BARR 93
The Roman Wall of Cumberland ROSE G. KINGSLEY 105
English Rural Scenery SARAH B. WISTER 112
The "Old Town" of Edinburgh ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 120
In the Land of Rob Roy NATHANIEL P. WILLIS 129
The Island of Staffa and Fingal's Cave BERIAH BOTFIELD 140
Ireland and Its Capital MATTHEW WOODS, M. D. 148
From Cork to Killarney SARA J. LIPPINCOTT 157
North of Ireland Scenes W. GEORGE BEERS 168
Paris and Its Attractions HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 178
Travel in France Fifty Years Ago CHARLES DICKENS 189
From Normandy to Provence DONALD G. MITCHELL 200
A French Farmer's Paradise M. BENTHAM-EDWARDS 211
Cordova and Its Mosque S. P. SCOTT 218
The Spanish Bull-Fight JOSEPH MOORE 230
Seville, the Queen of Andalusia S. P. SCOTT 238
Street Scenes in Genoa AUGUSTA MARRYAT 249
The Alhambra S. P. SCOTT 257
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME III
THE CATHEDRAL, CITY OF MEXICO _Frontispiece_
LONDON BRIDGE 14
BANK OF ENGLAND 50
WESTMINSTER ABBEY AND VICTORIA TOWER 62
CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL FROM THE NORTHWEST 114
PRINCES STREET AND SIR WALTER SCOTT'S MONUMENT, EDINBURGH 122
THE FORTH BRIDGE FROM THE NORTH 136
CUSTOM-HOUSE, DUBLIN, IRELAND 150
QUEENSTOWN HARBOR 164
GRAND OPERA HOUSE, PARIS 180
THE LUMINOUS PALACE, PARIS 216
THE GROTTO OF THE SIBYL, TIVOLI 250
WITH THE WORLD'S
GREAT TRAVELLERS.
THE WORLD'S GREAT CAPITALS OF TO-DAY.
OLIVER H. G. LEIGH.
LONDON.
To the ordinary eye the moon and stars have at least prettiness, perhaps
grandeur. To the trained astronomer, and the contemplative poet, the
mighty firmament overwhelms the mind with the sense of human inability
to grasp the vast. Knowing and loving the features and characteristics
of London as a lover those of his mistress, it can be imagined how such
a one despairs of doing justice, in a brief space, either to his subject
or his own sane enthusiasm. He would fain impart his knowledge, insight,
and what glimmerings of romantic fancy may add charm to the prosy
exposition, but the showman's harangue is received as art without heart.
London is a hundred captivating sights and themes for our hundred
capacities and moods. You go to it the first time with the child's
enviable eye-delight in novelty, and are lucky if in a week you are not
eye-sore, dazed, and jaded with the very monotony of new scenes and
blurred impressions. You wisely fly to the lovely country lanes for
restful change, and come back with new eyes and a clean slate. Then
the mysterious quality which lifts visible London into the London of
real romance and realizable antiquity dawns upon the mind. A third
exploration reveals its almost omniscient and omnipotent headship as for
three centuries the world's centre for the intellectual and material
forces that have so largely built up our civilization. Continued
observation brings other and endless aspects of the indescribable city,
which is no city, but a Chinese puzzle of separately whirling worlds
within each other.
This mystifying prelude may seem rather disheartening to the stranger,
primed with rational curiosity to understand, as well as see, this
unwieldy London. He will find, however, his curiosity whetted, deepened,
elevated, in proportion as he takes with him a moderate grounding
in the historical associations of the old city. This easily acquired
information will prove to be a key that will unlock hidden places
holding bunches of other keys, so that everywhere one may turn, the
streets, buildings, and monuments recite their own fascinating stories.
We live in the day of big things, and sneer as we may at the
superficiality of estimating quality by size, there is no escape from it
when the purpose is only to kindle interest. Analysis can be undertaken
afterwards. London "whips creation" in the number of its people, though
its greatness is quite independent of this. The circle can be drawn to
include four, six, or seven millions and it will still be true that the
sustainers of its greatness come within a single million, possibly the
half of that. Yet it has a few businesses useful for the novice to know.
People have walked and ridden through the double tunnel under the wider
part of the Thames since 1843. Its underground railway, costing five
million dollars per mile to make, carries one hundred and fifty millions
of people a year, and has been running forty years. The public are
served by fifteen thousand cabs, which earn twenty-five million dollars
a year. There are over one thousand omnibuses, not including tram-cars,
on which there are roof seats, and you pay from two to six cents,
according to distance. Steamboats afford a fine view of the city, at the
same fares.
It has about five hundred theatres and music-halls, giving variety
programmes. Many of these hold from three to five thousand and they are
always well-filled. The roof of a famous music-hall built in 1870 slides
off for a few minutes at a time, for ventilation on summer nights. The
Crystal Palace entertains a hundred thousand people without being
crowded, in its beautiful glass hall, 1,608 feet long, with two great
aisles and transepts, and a charming pleasure park. In the palace are
reproductions of ancient architecture, primitive peoples, extinct
animals, everything in art and nature that can expand knowledge. The
orchestra seats four thousand, the concert-hall four thousand, and the
theatre four thousand, all under the same roof, yet their performances
are simultaneous. The Palace cost over seven million dollars in 1854,
and admission is twenty-five cents. The Albert Memorial Hall holds ten
thousand. The Agricultural Hall covers three acres and a half, and holds
audiences of twenty-five thousand.
There is not a day in the year without half-a-dozen or more public
meetings, convened by religious, scientific, or other societies, a
free field for the stranger to see distinguished people, hear average
oratory, study character and customs, and lay in stores of useful
knowledge with varied entertainment. "Doing the sights" is a matter of
course, but they should be selected to suit one's mood at the time, also
the usually unlovely weather, and above all, after some preliminary
guide-book reading. The Tower is already familiar in story and picture,
yet not every cockney is aware that its walls enclose a virtual town of
over three thousand inhabitants. It has a hundred distinct interests
for the leisurely-minded, besides that of being a great old fortress.
The new Tower bridge equals the underground railway and sub-river
tunnels as a triumph of engineering, lifting itself high above the tall
ships' masts when they sail in and out of the port. Near by, the much
maligned East End, the Whitechapel district beloved by horror-vending
reporters, invites and will repay a visit.
Would you like to realize a dream of some magnificent pageant, in
which the great notabilities of all the earth take a share? Take your
stand where Rotten Row meets the Drive any morning or afternoon between
April and July. Here meet the pink of fashion and the celebrities
distinguished for honors won in art, science, diplomacy, statesmanship,
and war. The outward and visible magnificence belongs to the horses
rather than their riders and drivers, for plainness of attire and
decoration is the rule among the great folks. This double daily parade
is truly a unique spectacle, viewed by throngs of idlers of all nations,
themselves a picturesque feature of the show.
A panorama with another sort of interest should be viewed ponderingly.
Let the visitor approach Westminster Abbey from Victoria station along
Victoria Street, once a worse than any Whitechapel nest of criminal
slum-dwellers. Grouped into a picture unrivalled elsewhere in the world
for architectural splendor combined with historic glory, he will see the
hoary Abbey, not simply the stone record of a thousand years of human
progress; not simply the petrified survival of druidicial worship in the
forest groves, with its soaring tree-trunk columns breaking into foliage
as their tops meet to screen the sun and echo down again the ascending
incense of prayer and song; not simply the stately temple which for ages
has been the shrine of England's great ones, thirteen kings, fourteen
queens, and the greater than these--the glorious array of its poets,
musicians, statesmen, soldiers, sailors, and explorers, who, like
Livingstone in his line and Chaucer in his, poured all their wealth of
genius and power into the lap of their motherland, to make her happier
and stronger. He will see through the mediaeval stained windows the
deeper meaning of the old church's story, the reddened sun-rays telling
of the bloodshed that watered the growing plant of the nation's
greatness, and the blue beams that figure Britannia's olden mastery of
the seas, and the rainbow hues suggestive of her labors to give hope to
the people that long sat in darkness till she brought the light of
civilization.
Close to the Abbey's side stands the venerable St. Margaret's parish
church, where Caxton printed the first book and is buried; where
Ambassador James Russell Lowell's epitaph on Raleigh graces the window
that honors the memory of Virginia's founder, whose headless body
reposes in its precincts. Just behind the two churches stands
Westminster Hall, as King William Rufus built it in 1099, though its
great oak-beam roof was heightened by Richard II. Close behind it
rises the majestic file of the Houses of Parliament, the great Victoria
tower at one end, at the other the clock tower, with its minute-hand
twelve feet long and its chimes that float around for miles. From its
foot Westminster Bridge gladly crosses the Thames to the noblest of
hospitals, St. Thomas's, founded in 1213. Its separate blocks corridored
together, fitly match the Parliament building on the opposite bank of
the river. When you stand on the Abbey sidewalk, near the Beaconsfield
statue, you may feel you are standing in the true centre of the earth,
for there will pass you in the course of a week in the season the
picked leaders of most nations, the representatives of every faith and
system of government, the ruling men of Asiatic empires and tribes,
and travellers from the world's end to do homage to the mother of
parliaments and the shrine of the immortal dead. And far in the distant
haze hovers the dome of St. Paul's like a balloon ascending through the
smoke clouds to the clear blue.
Starting westward from the Abbey, in this sacred bit of the great city,
it is possible to walk seven miles on the grass and paths, through St.
James's park, surrounded by Government buildings, stately old mansions,
the home of the king when Prince of Wales, St. James's Palace, and
Buckingham Palace. Then along Constitution Hill, across Piccadilly into
Hyde Park, along Rotten Row (from _Route du Roi_) to Kensington Gardens
with the house Victoria was born in, and so on, with a few breaks. The
group of palatial museums at South Kensington tempt the stranger,
whatever his tastes or culture, to spend a year there, and each year so
spent will need another to do justice to their marvellous contents.
Turn back now, along Piccadilly, a unique panorama in itself, pass the
cluster of great restaurants, theatres, music-halls, and other pleasure
places that reach half a mile or so towards the Strand, where the hotels
range round Charing Cross. Along this narrow but brilliant highway lie
more theatres and a famous church or two, and the cold bath in use since
the Romans made it two thousand years ago. Then up Fleet Street, whence
the daily papers flutter morning, noon and night, until St. Paul's
crowns the highest bit of the city. Its interior, and the monuments to
the nation's naval and military heroes, will impress the visitor, though
hardly so much as the exquisite singing at the short services of morning
and afternoon, the strains of vocal and organ music floating and
billowing in the great dome and along the lofty aisles.
Between St. Paul's and old Bishopsgate lies "the city," that is, the
square mile or so given up to business, with no private houses left
in it. Still going eastward the route passes through the Billingsgate
fishmarket quarter, where its famous language still flourishes.
Here stands "the Monument," a column surmounted with a gilt frame,
commemorating the great fire of 1666, which began at this spot. If we
take our stand far away on Blackfriars Bridge some thirty-five church
steeples may be counted, each with its upper part painted black. The
dome of St. Paul's is one of these. They mark the area of the fire,
as each rebuilt church had to bear this memorial. But for this law St.
Paul's would have had a gilded dome. Soon we come to the Tower, and then
the long line of docks, covering thousands of acres, and stretching
miles down the river. Here the merchant wealth of the country, and of
the world, is realizable as nowhere else.
London shows both sides of its shield: incalculable wealth, poverty that
defies description. Years of familiarity with its slums, before slumming
was invented as a fashionable fad, only deepened the conviction that
all the noble efforts to eradicate the worst evils in the situation are
utterly hopeless. The breed flourishes faster than the mild measures to
improve it can operate.
The homes of aristocracy in Mayfair, the heart of the West End,
disappoint those who expect magnificence--long rows of houses in narrow
streets, once red brick, now dingy black and musty-looking, the monotony
broken here and there by a newer and more pretentious stone mansion. The
great Squares are a brighter feature. The same sooty brick houses, large
and small, make the quadrangle, each having a key to the gates that
enclose the park, in which nursemaids exercise the children and pet
dogs, and an occasional game of croquet is ventured by country cousins.
The coating of soot on every branch and leaf is fatal to clean hands
and summer costumes. The newer streets, and the region around the South
Kensington Museums, make a better display of architecture. A little
experience will reconcile the stranger to the general dowdiness of house
exteriors, when he learns that the English climate has caused the
English people to think most of the home within. The contrast on
entering these plain structures is startling and gratifying. While
this home love and home pride with homely ways are the strongest
characteristics of the people, the saying of Charles the Second is still
true, that there is no other country in which one can spend so many
hours the year round in the open air. They spend as much of their
daylight as possible out of doors and their evenings at home have a
hearty, informal, delightful charm, wholly in contrast to the stiff and
stagy receptions known in other cities.
The innate love of country life is shown by rich and poor alike. On
the four legal bank holidays, the Monday after Christmas, Easter
Monday, Whitsun Monday, and the first Monday in August, all business is
suspended throughout the land, in most cases from the Friday evening
until Tuesday morning. Then the masses come forth in all their might and
finery, they take possession of the street vehicles, the railways and
boats. The "upper" and "upper middle" classes religiously stay at home
on those days, dreading the uproarious throngs of 'Arries and 'Arriets,
who jam themselves ten deep into seats for five and monopolize every
place of amusement. Yet it is a cheery sight to see all these hundreds
of thousands of London toilers hurrying on wheels of all sorts away to
Epping Forest, kept in its virgin state these four hundred years, and
to Hampstead Heath, the Crystal Palace, the great parks, and similar
handy breathing places, not to mention the favorite resorts within a
twenty-mile radius. You will smile at grown folks playing skip the rope
the whole day long, and kiss in the ring, and such like primitive games,
but it is a wholesome sign when a whole population can find hearty
pleasure in romping on the grass, for simple delights gained by healthy
open-air exercise yield a more lasting happiness than is to be got by
paying money to sit still and see hirelings make antics for you.
These outlying places are the crowning glory of London. Beautiful
Windsor, Richmond Park, Kew Gardens, Epping Forest, and the ideally
delightful Edens that nestle along the bends of the upper Thames, are
all within the twenty-five mile circle, though one can find fifty
fairy-grounds within five miles from any city station, where one can
sprawl on the velvet grass beneath some spreading oak, and drink in the
balmy scent-laden air, out of sight and sound of bricks and mortar. You
may, certainly, be disturbed by the carolling of larks, linnets and
others of the feathered choir, and perhaps by the waftings of some
village church's silvery peal of bells, celebrating a wedding on the
general holiday merrymaking. Even in the very heart of London's busiest
quarters one can instantaneously step from the streets into grassy
enclosures with great old trees, as silent and restful as if we were
in some monastic cloister a century or two back. Until it has been
experienced it is impossible to realize the beauty and mental relief of
being able to turn from the rush and roar of the great city into one of
these lovely retreats, or into the Cathedral, or Abbey, or nearest old
church, where "the dim, religious light" of the stained windows, and the
poetry of design and associations, and perhaps the pealing organ, waft
the jaded senses into lotos land.
Coming back to details of another kind it is to be remarked that for
noise, we can conscientiously claim our own New York as champion
unrivalled. This item of metropolitan noise in some wise hits off
the characteristics of the nations. New York has its fearsome
rattle-clatter, sharp, pungent, nerve-racking, incessant, typical of
the ceaseless "hurry-up" of its folk, in talk and motion. All is
"rapid-transit" rush, anyhow, anywhere. Paris has its light, flitting,
skipping, pittypat noise, as of a million chattering magpies busy
shifting quarters. London has altogether another noise--a deep, soft
diapason, Niagara-like in its immensity and pitch--a low melodious roar,
the noise of "the roaring loom of time"; noises of the past; great
booming echoes of dead centuries; the wailings of populations crushed by
endless wars, oppressed by dynasties of tyrants, crowned and uncrowned;
smitten to death by plagues; swept out of life by Ignorance, Poverty,
Evil Fate. Great London has gathered the voices of the peoples in a
thousand years of matchless history, and he who listens aright can hear
them all as they go up to heaven in the mighty volume of its sun-dimmed
incense of smoke.
This London is a miniature world. It is made up of representatives
of every nationality; is the hive of every land's industry; the
market-place for every country's products. It is the mart where
traders from all the ends of the earth transact their business; the
bank to which every nation and tribe intrust their gains; the parlor,
the parleying-place, the parliament of the earth, where rulers and
subjects, races and clans, leaders and followers, explorers, travellers,
scholars, reformers, do their best talking, most of it in the hearing
of all peoples who use the English tongue.
[Illustration: LONDON BRIDGE]
London is more than all this. It is the purgatory and the elysium of
generations of Britain's great souls. As the centuries have cast their
hallowed tints of sombre gray over her dumbly eloquent stones, they have
seen a long procession of sad figures threading the old, quaint, crooked
byways and highways, figures of gaunt men and weary women, dropping
out from the ranks here and there from sheer want of the wherewithal
of life. These have been the forerunners, the seed-sowers, the pioneers
of England's greatness--singers and seers, planners and day-dreamers,
toilers with hand and brain, potential Caesars and Alfreds, Shakespeares
and Arkwrights, Wrens, Reynoldses and Wellingtons, without a ray of the
ripening sunshine. Old England had its genius-breeders long before the
luckier later sons were born. Not a stone of St. Paul's that glorifies
the powers of its designers but is also, when you rightly look, a
tombstone to the memory of some unknown toiler whose brain, heart,
muscle or blood was spent to make that cathedral sublime; nor can you
pick up a page of your Chaucers, Shakespeares, Miltons, Goldsmiths, and
Tennysons but, if you scan it closely enough, you will find it stained
with the tears of countless strugglers, who wrought themselves sore
in the cause of man's elevation, only to earn a nameless grave for
themselves. Pioneers, they sank, but their bones so enriched the soil
that the London which was a purgatory to them is an elysium to us
to-day, pacing whose witching shades we may see, if we close our eyes on
inferior sights, the ghosts of the legion of Greathearts who haunt the
old home, whose coldness to them in their own day they have avenged by
making it glow with the glory of their names and works.
This is the crowning charm of London the unique--that we tread on ground
every inch of which has its thrilling story to tell. There Shakespeare
trod. Here Marlowe fell. Here Otway died, starved. Here Carey fainted,
foodless. Here Goldsmith trailed footsore, hungry, despairing of fame.
Here Johnson and Savage tramped the street all night with three cents
between them for coffee at the street stall in the early morning. Here
gentle De Quincey slept on the doorsteps. Hear him: "So then, Oxford
Street, stony-hearted stepmother, thou that listenest to the sighs of
orphans and drinkest the tears of children, the time was come at last,
that I no more should pace in anguish thy never-ending terraces; no more
should dream, and wake in captivity to the pangs of hunger. Thou, Oxford
Street, hast echoed to the groans of innumerable hearts!" Aye, and still
do thy throbbing streets, O glorious, pitiless London, reverberate with
the wails of unsuspected thousands! To-day, this very day, the artist,
the poet, the scholar, the inventor, the helpless sons of genius may
perish, and most literally do perish, die of the heart-break that is
born of hunger, in the wilderness of merry London. Who cannot readily
recall a | 2,295.65498 |
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
HISTORY OF THE BEEF CATTLE INDUSTRY IN ILLINOIS
BY
FRANK WEBSTER FARLEY
THESIS
FOR THE
DEGREE OF BACHELOR OF SCIENCE
IN AGRICULTURE
IN
THE COLLEGE OF AGRICULTURE
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
1915
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
May 22, 1915
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT THE THESIS PREPARED UNDER MY SUPERVISION BY
_Frank Webster Farley_
ENTITLED _History of the Beef Cattle Industry in Illinois_
______________________________________________________________
IS APPROVED BY ME AS FULFILLING THIS PART OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE
DEGREE OF _Bachelor of Science in Agriculture_
____________________________________________________
_~Henry P Rusk~_
Instructor in Charge
APPROVED: _May 27, 1915_
~Herbert W. Mumford~
HEAD OF DEPARTMENT OF Animal Husbandry
INDEX
I. Introduction
Topography of the Land
People
Cattle and cattle feeding
II. Cattle Feeding Industry
The first silo in Illinois
The Chicago market
III. Cattle Barons and Pioneer Drovers
John T. Alexander
Jacob Strawn
Benjamin Franklin Harris
Tom Candy Ponting
IV. The Range Industry
Texas cattle
V. The Pure Bred Industry
T. L. Miller
Thomas Clark
VI. Cattle Plagues
VII. The Feed Industry of the United States.
HISTORY OF THE BEEF CATTLE INDUSTRY IN THE STATE OF ILLINOIS
I. INTRODUCTION
_Topography of the Land_
"As a whole, the surface of the State of Illinois is nearly level.
The prairie regions which cover a large part of the state are only
slightly rolling, except in those places where streams have worn
valleys. These are shallow in the eastern and the northern parts of
the state, deepening | 2,295.661386 |
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Small type is used to indicate the rules and practices peculiar to
the Senate. Small type is denoted by $dollar signs$.
Proper nouns have been left unchanged, except to correct obvious
printer's errors as indicated by inconsistencies in the nearby text.
Variant spellings and accents in Latin, French, Spanish, Italian
quotes were left as printed unless obvious nearby differences indicated
printer's errors.
On page 273, "numbers were first called on to declare their numbers"
should possibly be "members were first called on to declare their
numbers".
In the Index entry 'Existing treaties with France', there is a
reference to a (non-existent) page 651 in Volume iii.
THE
WRITINGS
OF
THOMAS JEFFERSON:
BEING HIS
AUTOBIOGRAPHY, CORRESPONDENCE, REPORTS, MESSAGES,
ADDRESSES, AND OTHER WRITINGS, OFFICIAL
AND PRIVATE.
PUBLISHED BY THE ORDER OF THE JOINT COMMITTEE OF CONGRESS ON THE
LIBRARY,
FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPTS,
DEPOSITED IN THE DEPARTMENT OF STATE.
WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES, TABLES OF CONTENTS, AND A COPIOUS INDEX
TO EACH VOLUME, AS WELL AS A GENERAL INDEX TO THE WHOLE,
BY THE EDITOR
H. A. WASHINGTON.
VOL. IX.
NEW YORK:
H. W. DERBY, 625 BROADWAY.
1861.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by
TAYLOR & MAURY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of
Columbia.
STEREOTYPED BY
THOMAS R. SMITH.
82 & 84 Beekman Street.
CONTENTS OF VOL. IX.
BOOK IV.--PART IV.
PARLIAMENTARY MANUAL 3
BOOK IV.--PART V.
THE ANAS 87
BOOK IV.--PART VI.
MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS 212
1. Extract from Diary relative to invasion of Virginia in
1780, 1781 p. 212.
2. Memorandum relative to invasion of Virginia in 1780, 1781,
220.
3. Instructions to the Ministers Plenipotentiary appointed to
negotiate treaties of peace with the European nations, 1784,
226.
4. Report of a conference with the Count de Vergennes on the
subject of the commerce of the U. States with France, 230.
5. Answers of Mr. Jefferson, to questions propounded to him
by M. de Meusnier, 244.
6. Answers to propositions propounded by M. de Meusnier, Jan.
24, 1786, 282.
7. Notes on M. Soulé's Work, 293.
8. Observations on a letter of M. de Calonnes to Mr. Jefferson,
Oct. 22, 1786, 304.
9. Proposals for concerted operations among the powers at war
with the piratical States of Barbary, 308.
10. To the Editor of the Journal de Paris, 309.
11. Memoranda taken on a journey from Paris to the Southern
parts of France and Northern parts of Italy in 1787, 313.
12. Tour to some of the gardens of England, 367.
13. Memoranda of a tour to Amsterdam, Strasburgh, &c., and
back to Paris, in 1788, 373.
14. Travelling notes for Mr. Rutledge and Mr. Shippen in 1788,
403.
15. Questions as to the rights and duties of the U. States
under her treaties with France and the laws of neutrality, 405.
16. Heads of consideration on the conduct to be observed in
the war between Spain and Great Britain, and particularly
should the latter attempt the conquest of Louisiana and the
Floridas, 409.
17. Heads of consideration on the navigation of the Mississippi
river, for Mr. Carmichael, 412.
18. Questions to be considered, 415.
19. Plan of a bill concerning consuls, 416.
20. Matters to be arranged between the governments of the U.
States and England, 419.
21. Memorandum of communications made to a committee of the
Senate on the subject of the diplomatic nominations to Paris,
London, and the Hague, 420.
22. Considerations on the subject of ransom and peace with
the Algerines, 424.
23. Notes of a conversation with Mr. Hammond, 425.
24. Extempore thoughts and doubts on very superficially running
over the bankrupt bill, 431.
25. Heads of a conversation with Mr. Hammond, 432.
26. Instructions to Andrew Michaud for exploring the Western
Boundary, 434.
27. Memorandum relative to Commissioners for laying off the
Federal City, 437.
28. Note given to the President relative to Genet, 438.
29. Rules for regulating our conduct towards the belligerent
powers, recommended to the President for his adoption, 440.
30. Opinion relative to the propriety of convening the
Legislature at an earlier period than that fixed by law, 441.
31. Communication relative to our French relations, 442.
32. Explanation of the origin of the principle "Free bottoms
make free goods," 443.
33. An account of the capitol of Virginia, | 2,295.761567 |
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Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: TAINE, DANTE, GOETHE, CERVANTES]
THE BEST
_of the_
WORLD'S CLASSICS
RESTRICTED TO PROSE
HENRY CABOT LODGE
_Editor-in-Chief_
FRANCIS W. HALSEY
_Associate Editor_
With an Introduction, Biographical
and Explanatory Notes, etc.
IN TEN VOLUMES
Vol. VIII
CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
NEW YORK AND LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
* * * * *
The Best of the World's Classics
VOL. VIII
CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
* * * * *
CONTENTS
VOL. VIII--CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
FRANCE--CONTINUED
1805-1909
ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE--(Born in 1805, died in 1859.)
The Tyranny of the American Majority.
(From Chapter XV of "Democracy in America." Translated by Henry Reeve)
ALFRED DE MUSSET--(Born in 1810, died in 1857.)
Titian's Son After a Night at Play.
(From "Titian's Son." Translated by Erie Arthur Bell)
THEOPHILE GAUTIER--(Born in 1811, died in 1872.)
Pharaoh's Entry into Thebes.
(From the "Romance of a Mummy." Translated by M. Young)
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT--(Born in 1821, died in 1880.)
Yonville and Its People.
(From Part II of "Madame Bovary." Translated by Eleanor Marx-Aveling)
JOSEPH ERNEST RENAN--(Born in 1823, died in 1892.)
An Empire in Robust Youth.
(From the "History of the Origins of Christianity.")
HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE--(Born in 1828, died in 1893.)
I Thackeray as a Satirist.
(From Book V, Chapter II, of the "History of English Literature."
Translated by H. van Laun)
II When the King Got up for the Day.
(From "The Ancient Regime." Translated by John Durand)
EMILE ZOLA--(Born in 1840, died in 1902.)
Glimpses of Napoleon III in Time of War.
(From "La Debacle." Translated by E. P. Robins)
ALPHONSE DAUDET--(Born in 1840, died in 1897.)
I A Great Man's Widow.
(From "Artists' Wives." Translated by Laura Ensor)
II My First Dress Coat.
(From "Thirty Years of Paris." Translated by Laura Ensor)
GUY DE MAUPASSANT--(Born in 1850, died in 1893.)
Madame Jeanne's Last Days.
(From the last chapter of "A Life." Translated by Eric Arthur Bell)
GERMANY
1483-1859
MARTIN LUTHER--(Born in 1483, died in 1546.)
Some of His Table Talk and Sayings.
(From the "Table Talk.")
GOTTHOLD E. LESSING--(Born in 1729, died in 1781.)
I Poetry and Painting Compared.
(From the preface to the "Laocoon." Translated by E. C. Beasley and
Helen Zimmern)
II Of Suffering Held in Restraint.
(From Chapter I of the "Laocoon." Translated by Beasley and Zimmern)
JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE--(Born in 1749, died in 1832.)
I On First Reading Shakespeare.
(From "Wilhelm Meister." Translated by Thomas Carlyle)
II The Coronation of Joseph II.
(From Book XII of the "Autobiography." Translated by John Oxenford)
FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER--(Born in 1759, died in 1808.)
I The Battle of Lutzen.
(From the "History of the Thirty Years' War." Translated by A. J. W.
Morrison)
II Philip II and the Netherlands.
(From the introduction to the "History of the Revolt of the
Netherlands." Translated by Morrison)
WILHELM VON SCHLEGEL--(Born in 1767, died in 1845.)
Shakespeare's "Macbeth."
(From the "Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature." Translated by
John Black, revised by A. J. W. Morrison)
ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT--(Born in 1769, died in 1859.)
An Essay on Man.
(From his "General Review of Natural Phenomena." in Volume I of
"Cosmos." Translated by E. C. Otto and W. S. Dallas)
HEINRICH HEINE--(Born in 1799, died in 1856.)
Reminiscences of Napoleon.
(From Chapters VII, VIII and IX of "Travel Pictures." Translated by
Francis Storr)
ITALY
1254-1803
MARCO POLO--(Born in 1254, died in 1324.)
A Description of Japan.
(From the "Travels.")
DANTE ALIGHIERI--(Born in 1265, died in 1321.)
I That Long Descent Makes No Man Noble.
(From Book IV, Chapter XIV of "The Banquet." Translated by Katharine
Hillard)
II Of Beatrice and Her Death.
(From "The New Life." Translated by Charles Eliot Norton)
FRANCESCO PETRARCH--(Born in 1304, died in 1374.)
Of Good and Evil Fortune.
(From the "Treatise on the Remedies of Good and Bad Fortune.")
GIOVANNI BOCCACIO--(Born probably in 1313, died in 1375.)
The Patient Griselda.
(From the "Decameron.")
NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI--(Born in 1469, died in 1527.)
Ought Princes to Keep Their Promises?
(From Chapter XVIII of "The Prince.")
BENVENUTO CELLINI--(Born in 1500, died in 1571.)
The Casting of His "Perseus and Medusa."
(From the "Autobiography." Translated by William Roscoe)
GIORGIO VASARI--(Born in 1511, died in 1574.)
Of Raphael and His Early Death.
(From "The Lives of the Most Famous Painters, Sculptors and
Architects." Translated by Mrs. Jonathan Foster)
CASANOVA DE SEINGALT--(Born in 1725, died probably in 1803.)
His Interview with Frederick the Great.
(From the "Memoirs.")
OTHER COUNTRIES
1465-1909
DESIDERIUS ERASMUS--(Born in 1465, died in 1536.)
Specimens of His Wit and Wisdom.
(From various books)
MIGUEL DE CERVANTES--(Born in 1547, died in 1616.)
I The Beginnings of Don Quixote's Career.
(From "Don Quixote." Translated by John Jarvis)
II Of How Don Quixote Died.
(From "Don Quixote." Translated by John Jarvis)
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN--(Born in 1805, died in 1875.)
The Emperor's New Clothes.
(From the "Tales.")
IVAN SERGEYEVITCH TURGENEFF--(Born in 1818, died in 1883.)
Bazarov's Death.
(From "Fathers and Children." Translated by Constance Garnett)
HENRIK IBSEN--(Born in 1828, died in 1906.)
The Thought Child.
(From "The Pretenders." Translated by William Archer)
COUNT LEO TOLSTOY--(Born in 1828.)
Shakespeare Not a Great Genius.
(From "A Critical Essay on Shakespeare." Translated by V. Tchertkoff
and I. F. M.)
* * * * *
FRANCE (Continued)
1805-1909
ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE
Born in Paris in 1805, died in 1859; studied law, taking his
degree in 1826; traveled in Italy and Sicily; in 1831
visited the United States under a commission to study the
penitentiary system; returning published a book on the
subject which was crowned by the French Academy; from
private notes taken in America then wrote his masterpiece,
"Democracy in America," which secured his election to the
Academy in 1841; spent some years in public life and then
retired in order to travel and write.
THE TYRANNY OF THE AMERICAN MAJORITY[1]
I hold it to be an impious and execrable maxim that, politically
speaking, the people has a right to do whatever it pleases; and yet I
have asserted that all authority originates in the will of the
majority. Am I then in contradiction with myself?
[Footnote 1: From Chapter XV of "Democracy in America." Translated by
Henry Reeve.]
A general law, which bears the name of justice, has been made and
sanctioned not only by a majority of this or that people, but by a
majority of mankind. The rights of every people are consequently
confined within the limits of what is just. A nation may be considered
in the light of a jury which is empowered to represent society at
large and to apply the great and general law of justice. Ought such a
jury, which represents society, to have more power | 2,295.762379 |
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THE MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT
[Illustration: I'm in for some of the severest drubbings of my life]
THE MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT
Being a Record of the Adventures of a Live American Young Man
_By GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER_
AUTHOR OF
"Get Rich Quick Wallingford," "The Cash Intrigue," Etc.
WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS
BY JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG AND F. R. GRUGER
_A. L. BURT COMPANY_
_Publishers New York_
COPYRIGHT 1908
THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
COPYRIGHT 1909
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
JUNE
DEDICATION
To the Handicapped Sons of Able
Fathers, and the Handicapped
Fathers of Able Sons,
with Sympathy for
each, and a
Smile for
both
THE MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT
CHAPTER I
BOBBY MAKES SOME IMPORTANT PREPARATIONS FOR A COMMERCIAL LIFE
"I am profoundly convinced that my son is a fool," read the will of
old John Burnit. "I am, however, also convinced that I allowed him to
become so by too much absorption in my own affairs and too little in
his, and, therefore, his being a fool is hereditary; consequently, I
feel it my duty, first, to give him a fair trial at making his own
way, and second, to place the balance of my fortune in such trust that
he can not starve. The trusteeship is already created and the details
are nobody's present business. My son Robert will take over the John
Burnit Store and personally conduct it, as his only resource, without
further question as to what else I may have left behind me. This is my
last will and testament."
That is how cheerful Bobby Burnit, with no thought heretofore above
healthy amusements and Agnes Elliston, suddenly became a business man,
after having been raised to become the idle heir to about three
million. Of course, having no kith nor kin in all this wide world, he
went immediately to consult Agnes. It is quite likely that if he had
been supplied with dozens of uncles and aunts he would have gone first
to Agnes anyhow, having a mighty regard for her keen judgment, even
though her clear gaze rested now and then all too critically upon
himself. Just as he came whirling up the avenue he saw Nick Allstyne's
white car, several blocks ahead of him, stop at her door, and a figure
which he knew must be Nick jump out and trip up the steps. Almost
immediately the figure came down again, much more slowly, and climbed
into the car, which whizzed away.
"Not at home," grumbled Bobby.
It was like him, however, that he should continue straight to the
quaint old house of the Ellistons and proffer his own card, for,
though his aims could seldom be called really worth while, he
invariably finished the thing he set out to do. It seemed to be a sort
of disease. He could not help it. To his surprise, the Cerberus who
guarded the Elliston door received him with a smile and a bow, and
observed:
"Miss Elliston says you are to walk right on up to the Turkish alcove,
sir."
While Wilkins took his hat and coat Bobby paused for a moment
figuratively to hug himself. At home to no one else! Expecting him!
"I'll ask her again," said Bobby to himself with determination, and
stalked on up to the second floor hall, upon which opened a delightful
cozy corner where Aunt Constance Elliston permitted the more
"family-like" male callers to smoke and loll and be at mannish ease.
As he reached the landing the door of the library below opened, and in
it appeared Agnes and an unusually well-set-up young man--a new one,
who wore a silky mustache and most fastidious tailoring. The two were
talking and laughing gaily as the door opened, but as Agnes glanced up
and saw Bobby she suddenly stopped laughing, and he almost thought
that he overheard her say something in an aside to her companion. The
impression was but fleeting, however, for she immediately nodded
brightly. Bobby bowed rather stiffly in return, and continued his
ascent of the stairs with a less sprightly footstep. Crestfallen, and
conscious that Agnes had again closed the door of the library without
either herself or the strange visitor having emerged into the hall, he
strode into the Turkish alcove and let himself drop upon a divan with
a thump. He extracted a cigar from his cigar-case, carefully cut off
the tip and as carefully restored the cigar to its place. Then he
clasped his interlocked fingers around his knee, and for the next ten
minutes strove, like a gentleman, not to listen.
When Agnes came up presently she made no mention whatever of her
caller, and, of course, Bobby had no excuse upon which to hang
impertinent questions, though the sharp barbs of them were darting
through and through him. Such fuming as he felt, however, was
instantly allayed by the warm and thoroughly honest clasp she gave him
when she shook hands with him. It was one of the twenty-two million
things he liked about her that she did not shake hands like two ounces
of cold fish, as did some of the girls he knew. She was dressed in a
half-formal house-gown, and the one curl of her waving brown hair that
would persistently straggle down upon her forehead was in its
accustomed place. He had always been obsessed with a nearly
irresistible impulse to put his finger through that curl.
"I have come around to consult you about a little business matter,
Agnes," he found himself beginning with sudden breathlessness, his
perturbation forgotten in the overwhelming charm of her. "The
governor's will has just been read to me, and he's plunged me into a
ripping mess. His whole fortune is in the hands of a trusteeship,
whatever that is, and I'm not even to know the trustees. All I get is
just the business, and I'm to carry the John Burnit Store on from its
present blue-ribbon standing to still more dazzling heights, I
suppose. Well, I'd like to do it. The governor deserves it. But, you
see, I'm so beastly thick-headed. Now, Agnes, you have perfectly
stunning judgment and all that, so if you would just----" and he came
to an abrupt and painful pause.
"Have you brought along the contract?" she asked demurely. "Honestly,
Bobby, you're the most original person in the world. The first time, I
was to marry you because you were so awkward, and the next time
because your father thought so much of me, and another time because
you wanted us to tour Norway and not have a whole bothersome crowd
along; then you were tired living in a big, lonely house with just you
and your father and the servants; now, it's an advantageous business
arrangement. What share of the profits am I to receive?"
Bobby's face had turned red, but he stuck manfully to his guns.
"All of them," he blurted. "You know that none of those is the real
reason," he as suddenly protested. "It is only that when I come to
tell you the actual reason I rather choke up and can't."
"You're a mighty nice boy, Bobby," she confessed. "Now sit down and
behave, and tell me just what you have decided to do."
"Well," said he, accepting his defeat with great philosophy, since he
had no reason to regard it as final, "of course, my decision is made
for me. I'm to take hold of the business. I don't know anything about
it, but I don't see why it shouldn't go straight on as it always has."
"Possibly," she admitted thoughtfully; "but I imagine your father
expected you to have rather a difficult time of it. Perhaps he wants
you to, so that a defeat or two will sting you into having a little
more serious purpose in life than you have at present. I'd like,
myself, to see you handle, with credit to him and to you, the splendid
establishment he built up."
"If I do," Bobby wanted to know, "will you marry me?"
"That makes eleven times. I'm not saying, Bobby, but you never can
tell."
"That settles it. I'm going to be a business man. Let me use your
'phone a minute." It was one of the many advantages of the
delightfully informal Turkish alcove that it contained a telephone,
and in two minutes Bobby had his tailors. "Make me two or three
business suits," he ordered. "Regular business suits, I mean, for real
business wear--you know the sort of thing--and get them done as
quickly as you can, please. There!" said he as he hung up the
receiver. "I shall begin to-morrow morning. I'll go down early and
take hold of the John Burnit Store in earnest."
"You've made a splendid start," commented Agnes, smiling. "Now tell me
about the polo tournament," and she sat back to enjoy his enthusiasm
over something about which he was entirely posted.
He was good to look at, was Bobby, with his clean-cut figure and his
clean-cut face and his clean, blue eyes and clean complexion, and she
delighted in nothing more than just to sit and watch him when he was
at ease; he was so restful, so certain to be always telling the truth,
to be always taking a charitably good-humored view of life, to turn on
wholesome topics and wholesome points of view; but after he had gone
she smiled and sighed and shook her head.
"Poor Bobby," she mused. "There won't be a shred left of his tender
little fleece by the time he gets through."
One more monitor Bobby went to see that afternoon, and this was Biff
Bates. It required no sending in of cards to enter the presence of
this celebrity. One simply stepped out of the elevator and used one's
latch-key. It was so much more convenient. Entering a big, barnlike
room he found Mr. Bates, clad only in trunks and canvas shoes,
wreaking dire punishment upon a punching-bag merely by way of
amusement; and Mr. Bates, with every symptom of joy illuminating his
rather horizontal features--wide brows, wide cheek-bone, wide nose,
wide mouth, wide chin, wide jaw--stopped to shake hands most
enthusiastically with his caller without removing his padded glove.
"What's the good news, old pal?" he asked huskily.
He was half a head shorter than Bobby and four inches broader across
the shoulders, and his neck spread out over all the top of his torso;
but there was something in the clear gaze of the eyes which made the
two gentlemen look quite alike as they shook hands, vastly different
as they were.
"Bad news for you, I'm afraid," announced Bobby. "That little
partnership idea of the big gymnasium will have to be called off for a
while."
Mr. Bates took a contemplative punch or two at the still quivering
bag.
"It was a fake, anyway," he commented, putting his arm around the top
of the punching-bag and leaning against it comfortably; "just like
this place. You went into partnership with me on this joint--that is,
you put up the coin and run in a lot of your friends on me to be
trained up--squarest lot of sports I ever saw, too. You fill the place
with business and allow me a weekly envelope that makes me tilt my
chin till I have to wear my lid down over my eyes to keep it from
falling off the back of my head, and when there's profits to split up
you shoves mine into my mitt and puts yours into improvements. You put
in the new shower baths and new bars and traps, and the last thing,
that swimming-tank back there. I'm glad the big game's off. I'm so
contented now I'm getting over-weight, and you'd bilk me again. But
what's the matter? Did the bookies get you?"
"No; I'll tell you all about it," and Bobby carefully explained the
terms of his father's will and what they meant.
Mr. Bates listened carefully, and when the explanation was finished he
thought for a long time.
"Well, Bobby," said he, "here's where you get it. They'll shred you
clean. You're too square for that game. Your old man was a fine old
sport and _he_ played it on the level, but, say, he could see a marked
card clear across a room. They'll double-cross you, though, to a
fare-ye-well."
The opinion seemed to be unanimous.
CHAPTER II
PINK CARNATIONS APPEAR IN THE OFFICE OF THE JOHN BURNIT STORE
Bobby gave his man orders to wake him up early next morning, say not
later than eight, and prided himself very much upon his energy when,
at ten-thirty, he descended from his machine in front of the old and
honored establishment of John Burnit, and, leaving instructions for
his chauffeur to call for him at twelve, made his way down the long
aisles of white-piled counters and into the dusty little office where
old Johnson, thin as a rail and with a face like wh | 2,295.765266 |
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Produced by David Reed and David Widger
LETTERS OF PLINY
By Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus
Translated by William Melmoth
Revised by F. C. T. Bosanquet
GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS, usually known as Pliny the Younger,
was born at Como in 62 A. D. He was only eight years old when his father
Caecilius died, and he was adopted by his uncle, the elder Pliny, author
of the Natural History. He was carefully educated, studying rhetoric
under Quintilian and other famous teachers, and he became the most
eloquent pleader of his time. In this and in much else he imitated
Cicero, who had by this time come to be the recognized master of Latin
style. While still young he served as military tribune in Syria, but he
does not seem to have taken zealously to a soldier's life. On his return
he entered politics under the Emperor Domitian; and in the year 100 A.
D. was appointed consul by Trajan and admitted to confidential
intercourse with that emperor. Later while he was governor of Bithynia,
he was in the habit of submitting every point of policy to his master,
and the correspondence between Trajan and him, which forms the last part
of the present selection, is of a high degree of interest, both on
account of the subjects discussed and for the light thrown on the
characters of the two men. He is supposed to have died about 113 A. D.
Pliny's speeches are now lost, with the exception of one, a panegyric on
Trajan delivered in thanksgiving for the consulate. This, though diffuse
and somewhat too complimentary for modern taste, became a model for this
kind of composition. The others were mostly of two classes, forensic and
political, many of the latter being, like Cicero's speech against
Verres, impeachments of provincial governors for cruelty and extortion
toward their subjects. In these, as in his public activities in general,
he appears as a man of public spirit and integrity; and in his relations
with his native town he was a thoughtful and munificent benefactor.
The letters, on which to-day his fame mainly rests, were largely written
with a view to publication, and were arranged by Pliny himself. They
thus lack the spontaneity of Cicero's impulsive utterances, but to most
modern readers who are not special students of Roman history they are
even more interesting. They deal with a great variety of subjects: the
description of a Roman villa; the charms of country life; the reluctance
of people to attend author's readings and to listen when they were
present; a dinner party; legacy-hunting in ancient Rome; the acquisition
of a piece of statuary; his love for his young wife; ghost stories;
floating islands, a tame dolphin, and other marvels. But by far the best
known are those describing the great eruption of Vesuvius in which his
uncle perished, a martyr to scientific curiosity, and the letter to
Trajan on his attempts to suppress Christianity in Bithynia, with
Trajan's reply approving his policy. Taken altogether, these letters
give an absorbingly vivid picture of the days of the early empire, and
of the interests of a cultivated Roman gentleman of wealth.
Occasionally, as in the last letters referred to, they deal with
important historical events; but their chief value is in bringing before
us, in somewhat the same manner as "The Spectator" pictures the England
of the age of Anne, the life of a time which is not so unlike our own as
its distance in years might indicate. And in this time by no means the
least interesting figure is that of the letter-writer himself, with his
vanity and self-importance, his sensibility and generous affection, his
pedantry and his loyalty.
CONTENTS
LETTERS GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS
I -- To SEPTITTUS
II -- To ARRIANUS
III -- To VOCONIUS ROMANUS
IV -- To CORNELIUS TACITUS
V -- To POMPEIUS SATURNINUS
VI -- To ATRIUS CLEMENS
VII -- To FABIUS JUSTUS
VIII -- To CALESTRIUS TIRO
IX -- To SOCIUS SENECIO
X -- To JUNSUS MAURICUS
XI -- To SEPTITIUS CLARUS
XII -- To SUETONIUS TRANQUILLUS
XIII -- To ROMANUS FIRMUS
XIV -- TO CORNELIUS TACITUS
XV -- To PATERNUS
XVI -- To CATILIUS SEVERUS [27]
XVII -- To VOCONIUS ROMANUS
XVIII -- To NEPOS
XIX -- To AVITUS
XX -- To MACRINUS
XXI -- To PAISCUS
XXII -- To MAIMUS
XXIII -- To GALLUS
XXIV -- To CEREALIS
XXV -- To CALVISIUS
XXVI -- To CALVISIUS
XXVII -- To BAEBIUS MACER
XXVIII -- To ANNIUS SEVERUS
XXIX -- To CANINIUS RUFUS
XXX -- To SPURINNA AND COTTIA[53]
XXXI -- To JULIUS GENITOR
XXXII -- To CATILIUS SEVERUS
XXXIII -- To ACILIUS
XXXIV -- To NEPOS
XXXV -- To SEVERUS
XXXVI -- To CALVISIUS RUFUS
XXXVII -- To CORNELIUS PRISCUS
XXXVIII -- To FABATUS (HIS WIFE'S GRANDFATHER)
XXXIX -- To ATTIUS CLEMENS
XL -- To CATIUS LEPIDUS
XLI -- To MATURUS ARRIANUS
XLII -- To STATIUS SABINUS
XLIII -- To CORNELIUS MINICIANUS
XLV -- To ASINIUS
XLVI -- To HISPULLA
XLVII -- To ROMATIUS FIASIUS
XLVIII -- To LICINIUS SURA
XLIX -- To ANNIUS SEVERUS
L -- To TITIUS ARISTO
LI -- To NONIUS MAXIMUS
LII -- To DOMITIUS APOLLINARIS
LIII -- To CALVISIUS
LIV -- To MARCELLINUS
LV -- To SPURINNA
LVI -- To PAULINUS
LVII -- To RUFUS
LVIII -- To ARRIANUS
LIX -- To CALPURNIA[88]
LX -- To CALPURNIA
LXI -- To PRISCUS
LXII -- To ALBINUS
LXIII -- To MAXIMUS
LXIV -- To ROMANUS
LXV -- To TACITUS
LXVI -- To CORNELIUS TACITUS
LX VII -- To MACER
LXVIII -- To SERVIANUS
LXIX -- To SEVERUS
LXX -- To FABATUS
LXXI -- To CORNELIANUS
LXXII -- To MAXIMUS
LXXIII -- To RESTITUTUS
LXXIV -- To CALPURNIA[111]
LXXV -- To MACRINUS
LXXVI -- To TUSCUS
LXX VII -- To FABATUS (HIS WIFE'S GRANDFATHER)
LXXVIII -- To CORELLIA
LXXIX -- To CELER
LXXX -- To PRISCUS
LXXXI -- To GEMINIUS
LXXXII -- To MAXIMUS
LXXXIII -- To SURA
LXXXIV -- To SEPTITIUS
LXXXV -- To TACITUS
LXXX VI -- To SEPTITIUS
LXXXVII -- To CALVISIUS
LXXX VIII -- To ROMANUS
LXXXIX -- To ARISTO
XC -- To PATERNUS
XCI -- To MACRINUS
XCII -- To RUFINUS
XCIII -- To GALLUS
XCIV -- To ARRIANUS
XCV -- To MAXIMUS
XCVI -- To PAULINUS
XCVII -- To CALVISIUS
XCVIII -- To ROMANUS
XCIX -- To GEMINUS
C -- To JUNIOR
CI -- To QUADRATUS
CII -- To GENITOR
CIII -- To SABINIANUS
CIV -- To MAXIMUS
CV -- To SABINIANUS
CVI -- To LUPERCUS
CVII -- To CANINIUS
CVIII -- To Fuscus
CIX -- To PAULINUS
CX -- To FUSCUS
FOOTNOTES TO THE LETTERS OF PLINY]
CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
I -- TO THE EMPEROR TRAJAN[1001]
II -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
III -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
IV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
V -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
VI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
VII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
VIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
X -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XIV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XVI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XVII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XVIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XIX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXIV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXVI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXVII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXVIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXIX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXXI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XXXII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXXIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XXXIV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXXV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XXXVI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXX VII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XXXVIII To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XXXIX -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XL -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XLII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XLIV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XLVI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLVII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XLVIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XLIX -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
L -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LIV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LVI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LVII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LVIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LIX -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXIV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXVI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXVII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LX VIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXIX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXX -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXII TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXX IV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXVI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXVII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXVIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXIX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXX -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXXII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXXIV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXXVI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXVII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LXXXVIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
LXXXIX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XC -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XCII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XCIV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XCVI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCVII To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
XCVIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
XCIX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
C -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CI To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CIV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CV -- To TIlE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CVI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CVII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CVIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CIX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CX -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXIII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXIV -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXV -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXVI -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXVII -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXVIII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXIX -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXX -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
CXXI -- To THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
CXXII -- TRAJAN TO PLINY
FOOTNOTES TO THE CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE EMPEROR TRAJAN
LETTERS GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS
I -- To SEPTITTUS
YOU have frequently pressed me to make a select collection of my Letters
(if there really be any deserving of a special preference) and give them
to the public. I have selected them accordingly; not, indeed, in their
proper order of time, for I was not compiling a history; but just as
each came to hand. And now I have only to wish that you may have no
reason to repent of your advice, nor I of my compliance: in that case, I
may probably enquire after the rest, which at present be neglected, and
preserve those I shall hereafter write. Farewell.
II -- To ARRIANUS
I FORESEE your journey in my direction is likely to be delayed, and
therefore send you the speech which I promised in my former; requesting
you, as usual, to revise and correct it. I desire this the more
earnestly as I never, I think, wrote with the same empressment in any of
my former speeches; for I have endeavoured to imitate your old favourite
Demosthenes and Calvus, who is lately become mine, at least in the
rhetorical forms of the speech; for to catch their sublime spirit, is
given, alone, to the "inspired few." My subject, indeed, seemed
naturally to lend itself to this (may I venture to call it?) emulation;
consisting, as it did, almost entirely in a vehement style of address,
even to a degree sufficient to have awakened me (if only I am capable of
being awakened) out of that indolence in which I have long reposed. I
have not however altogether neglected the flowers of rhetoric of my
favourite Marc-Tully, wherever I could with propriety step out of my
direct road, to enjoy a more flowery path: for it was energy, not
austerity, at which I aimed. I would not have you imagine by this that I
am bespeaking your indulgence: on the contrary, to make your correcting
pen more vigorous, I will confess that neither my friends nor myself are
averse from the publication of this piece, if only you should join in
the approval of what is perhaps my folly. The truth is, as I must
publish something, I wish it might be this performance rather than any
other, because it is already finished: (you hear the wish of laziness.)
At all events, however, something I must publish, and for many reasons;
chiefly because of the tracts which I have already sent in to the world,
though they have long since lost all their recommendation from novelty,
are still, I am told, in request; if, after all, the booksellers are not
tickling my ears. And let them; since, by that innocent deceit, I am
encouraged to pursue my studies. Farewell.
III -- To VOCONIUS ROMANUS
DID YOU ever meet with a more abject and mean-spirited creature than
Marcus Regulus since the death of Domitian, during whose reign his
conduct was no less infamous, though more concealed, than under Nero's?
He began to be afraid I was angry with him, and his apprehensions were
perfectly correct; I was angry. He had not only done his best to
increase the peril of the position in which Rusticus Arulenus[1] stood,
but had exulted in his death; insomuch that he actually recited and
published a libel upon his memory, in which he styles him "The Stoics'
Ape": adding, "stigmated[2] with the Vitellian scar."[3] You recognize
Regulus' eloquent strain! He fell with such fury upon the
character of Herennius Senecio that Metius Carus said to him, one day,
"What business have you with my dead? Did I ever interfere in the affair
of Crassus[4] or Camerinus?"[5] Victims, you know, to Regulus, in Nero's
time. For these reasons he imagined I was highly exasperated, and so at
the recitation of his last piece, I got no invitation. Besides, he had
not forgotten, it seems, with what deadly purpose he had once attacked
me in the Court of the Hundred.[6] Rusticus had desired me to act as
counsel for Arionilla, Titnon's wife: Regulus was engaged against me. In
one part of the case I was strongly insisting upon a particular judgment
given by Metius Modestus, an excellent man, at that time in banishment
by Domitian's order. Now then for Regulus. "Pray," says he, "what is
your opinion of Modestus?" You see what a risk I should have run had I
answered that I had a high opinion of him, how I should have disgraced
myself on the other hand if I had replied that I had a bad opinion of
him. But some guardian power, I am persuaded, must have stood by me to
assist me in this emergency. "I will tell you my opinion," I said, "if
that is a matter to be brought before the court." "I ask you," he
repeated, "what is your opinion of Modestus?" I replied that it was
customary to examine witnesses to the character of an accused man, not
to the character of one on whom sentence had already been passed. He
pressed me a third time. "I do not now enquire," | 2,295.765487 |
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Transcribers notes:
1. Italics rendered with underline e.g. _italics_.
2. Small Caps rendered with all caps e.g. SMALL CAPS.
3. Ligatures rendered with [ ] e.g. [OE]dipus.
[Illustration: "THE CONNOISSEURS."
ENGRAVED BY PERMISSION OF HENRY GRAVES & CO., LONDON. AFTER THE
PAINTING BY SIR EDWIN LANDSEER. (SEE PAGE 814.)]
ST. NICHOLAS.
VOL. XIII. SEPTEMBER, 1886. NO. 11.
[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]
STORIES OF ART AND ARTISTS: ENGLISH PAINTERS.
BY CLARA ERSKINE CLEMENT.
When Henry VIII. came to the throne of England, he was a magnificent
prince. He loved pleasure and pomp and invited many foreign artists to
his court. After a time, however, he became indifferent to art, and it
is difficult to say whether he lessened or added to the art-treasures of
England.
The long reign of Queen Elizabeth--forty-seven years--afforded great
opportunity for the encouragement of art. But most of the painters whom
she employed were foreigners.
King Charles I. was a true lover of art. Rubens and Vandyck were his
principal painters, and Inigo Jones his architect; the choice of such
artists proves the excellence of his artistic taste and judgment. He
employed many other foreign artists, of whom it need only be said that
the English artists profited much by their intercourse with them, as
well as by the study of foreign pictures which the King purchased.
In fact, before the time of William Hogarth, portraits had been the only
pictures of any importance which were painted by English artists, and no
one painter had become very eminent. No native master had originated a
manner of painting which he could claim as his own.
Hogarth was born near Ludgate Hill, London, in 1697.
In 1734, he produced some works which immediately made him famous. He
had originated a manner of his own; he had neither attempted to
illustrate the stories of Greek Mythology, nor to invent allegories, as
so many painters had done before him; he simply gave form to the nature
that was all about him, and painted just what he could see in London
every day. His pictures of this sort came to be almost numberless, and
no rank in society, no phase of life, escaped the truthful
representation of his brush.
He was a teacher as well as an artist, for his pictures dealt with
familiar scenes and subjects and presented the lessons of the follies of
his day with more effect upon the mass of the people than any writer
could produce with his pen, or any preacher by his sermons.
Hogarth died at his house in Leicester Fields, on October 26, 1764.
His success aroused a strong faith and a new interest in the native art
of England, which showed their results in the establishment of the Royal
Academy of Arts. A little more than four years after Hogarth's death,
this Academy was founded by King George III. The original members of the
Academy numbered thirty-four, and among them was
JOSHUA REYNOLDS,
who afterward became its first president.
His father, Samuel Reynolds, was the rector of a grammar school at
Plympton, in Devonshire, and in that little hamlet, on July 16, 1723,
was born Joshua, the seventh of eleven children.
When Joshua was but a mere child, his father was displeased to find him
devoted to drawing; on a sketch which the boy had made, his father
wrote: "This is drawn by Joshua in school, out of pure idleness." The
child found the "Jesuit's Treatise on Perspective," and studied it with
such intelligence that before he was eight years old he made a sketch of
the school and its cloister which was so accurate that his astonished
father exclaimed, "Now this justifies the author of the 'Perspective'
when he says that, by observing the laws laid down in his book, a man
may do wonders; for this is wonderful!"
When about twelve years old, Joshua, while in church, made a sketch upon
his thumb-nail of the Rev. Thomas Smart. From this sketch, he painted
his first picture in oils; his canvas was a piece of an old sail, his
colors were common ship-paint, and he did his work in a boathouse on
Cremyll Beach.
In 1740, when Joshua was seventeen years old, his father tried to carry
out his plan to apprentice him to a druggist, but the boy was greatly
opposed to this. He said, "I would prefer to be an apothecary rather
than an _ordinary_ painter; but if I could be bound to an eminent
master, I should choose that." Fortunately Lord Edgecumbe and other
friends advised the boy's father in his favor, and so Joshua was finally
sent to London and bound to Thomas Hudson, then the best portrait
painter in England. After two years, Hudson suddenly dismissed the youth
from his studio, though his agreement was for four years; the master
said that Joshua neglected his orders, but others believed Hudson to be
jealous of his pupil's success.
Joshua returned to Devonshire and settled at Plymouth, five miles from
his home. There he painted about thirty portraits of the principal
persons of the neighborhood, at the price of three guineas each. One of
these portraits, painted in 1746, was shown to him thirty years later,
when he lamented that his progress in all that time had been so little.
At the home of his friend, Lord Edgecumbe, he had formed a friendship
with the young Commodore Keppel, who in 1749 was ordered to the
Mediterranean. He invited Reynolds to sail with him as his guest, and,
the invitation being accepted, the painter did not return to England
until the end of 1752. He visited Portugal, Spain, Algiers, Minorca,
Italy, and France.
He kept diaries during this journey, which are very interesting and
valuable; they contain many sketches of scenes and pictures which he
admired, as well as his written opinions of all that he saw. Several of
these diaries are in the Lenox Library, in New York; others are in the
Soane Museum, London, and in the Museum of Berlin.
Not long after his return to England, Reynolds settled himself in
London. He lived in handsome rooms in St. Martin's Lane, and his sister
Frances was his housekeeper.
Very soon Reynolds's studio came to be the popular resort of artists,
and, through the influence of Lord Edgecumbe, many nobles became his
patrons. He painted a full-length portrait of Commodore Keppel, which at
once established his reputation. The Commodore was represented as
standing on a rocky shore with a stormy sea in the background. This
picture was received with enthusiasm, and in his second London year
Reynolds had one hundred and twenty sitters, among whom were many
notable people. The artist removed to Great Newport street, and charged
twelve guineas for a bust, twenty-four guineas for half-length and
double that sum for a full-length portrait.
Dr. Johnson and Reynolds met for the first time in 1753, and from that
time they were faithful friends. Dr. Johnson delighted not only in
Reynolds's success as a painter, but, perceiving his other talents, he
insisted on his writing for _The Idler_, by which means the artist
published a series of brilliant articles and made himself a name in
literary circles. This kindness was more than repaid, for, after Dr.
Johnson became too poor to keep house for himself, he was always welcome
to the home and purse of Reynolds.
In 1760, the master again raised his prices for his work, and at about
the same time established himself in the house in Leicester Square, in
which he passed the remainder of his life. This house was very fine,
and, though it exhausted all his savings to fit it up, he spent still
more in setting up a gorgeous carriage for his sister, and in other
expenses which served to advertise his success to all who observed them.
Reynolds seemed to have reached the height of popularity, when, in 1768,
he was elected first President of the Royal Academy, and was knighted by
the King. He was of great advantage to the Academy, and heartily devoted
to its interests. He was active in establishing its schools and
equipping them with models, libraries, and conveniences for study; he
gave much attention to its exhibitions, and founded the famous Academy
dinners, at which men of rank and genius were brought together in such a
way as to render these occasions the most remarkable gatherings in the
United Kingdom. From time to time he also delivered his well-known
"Discourses on Art," which are notable alike for the good judgment in
the selection of the subjects treated, and for the literary skill with
which they are written.
About 1770, Sir Joshua built a villa at Richmond Hill. In the same year,
he spent a month in Plympton, and at that time also, he brought to his
home his niece, Theophila Palmer, who remained with him until her
marriage, eleven years later. She was very beautiful, and is known to
all the world as the "Offy" of the famous "Strawberry Girl." Other
pictures of her which Sir Joshua painted also became famous.
With the exception of the trip with Commodore Keppel Sir Joshua spent
little time out of England. In 1768 he visited Paris, and in 1780 he
passed two months in Holland and Germany. When absent from London, he
was usually at the house of some friend in the country, or at his old
home, of which he was always fond.
[Illustration: COPY OF A PORTRAIT BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.]
Few men have been so much admired by such a diversity of people as was
Sir Joshua Reynolds. The testimony of his friends presents him to us as
a man of admirable character. Perhaps no one knew him more intimately
than James Northcote, who was received into his family as a poor
Devonshire lad; he remained with Sir Joshua five years, and left him a
prosperous painter. Northcote found him kindly, modest, and lovable in
every way. He thus describes him personally: "In | 2,295.766491 |
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[Illustration: NOMAHANNA,
QUEEN OF THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.]
_London. Published by Henry Colburn & Richard Bentley. 1839._
A
NEW VOYAGE
ROUND
THE WORLD,
IN THE YEARS 1823, 24, 25, AND 26.
BY OTTO VON KOTZEBUE,
POST CAPTAIN IN THE RUSSIAN IMPERIAL NAVY.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1830.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY.
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME
Page
KAMTSCHATKA 1
NEW-ARCHANGEL 27
CALIFORNIA, AND THE NEW RUSSIAN SETTLEMENT, ROSS 69
THE SANDWICH ISLANDS 151
THE PESCADORES, RIMSKI-KORSAKOFF, ESCHSCHOLTZ, AND BRONUS ISLANDS 267
THE LADRONES AND PHILIPPINES 279
ST. HELENA 305
ZOOLOGICAL APPENDIX BY PROFESSOR ESCHSCHOLTZ 323
LIST OF PLATES.
Page
Reception of Captain Kotzebue at the Island of Otdia,
To face Title of Vol. I.
Plan of Mattaway Bay and Village 200
Chart of the Navigators' Islands 250
Chart of the Islands of Radak and Ralik 288
Nomahanna, Queen of the Sandwich Islands,
To face Title of Vol. II.
KAMTSCHATKA.
KAMTSCHATKA.
The wind, which continued favourable to us as far as the Northern
Tropic, was succeeded by a calm that lasted twelve days. The ocean, as
far as the eye could reach, was as smooth as a mirror, and the heat
almost insupportable. Sailors only can fully understand the
disagreeableness of this situation. The activity usual on shipboard gave
place to the most wearisome idleness. Every one was impatient; some of
the men felt assured that we should never have a wind again, and wished
for the most violent storm as a change.
One morning we had the amusement of watching two great sword-fish
sunning themselves on the surface of the water. I sent out a boat, in
the hope that the powerful creatures would, in complaisance, allow us
the sport of harpooning them, but they would not wait; they plunged
again into the depths of the sea, and we had disturbed their enjoyments
in vain.
Our water-machine was several times let down, even to the depth of a
thousand fathoms: on the surface, the temperature was 24 deg., and at
this depth, only 2 deg. of Reaumur.
On the 22nd of May, the anniversary of our frigate's leaving Stopel, we
got a fresh easterly wind, which carried us forward pretty quickly on
the still smooth surface of the sea.
On the 1st of June, when in latitude 42 deg. and longitude 201 deg., and
consequently opposite the coast of Japan, we descried a red stripe in
the water, about a mile long and a fathom broad. In passing over it we
drew up a pail-full, and found that its colour was occasioned by an
infinite number of crabs, so small as to be scarcely distinguishable by
the naked eye.
We now began daily to experience increasing inconveniences from the
Northern climate. The sky, hitherto so serene, became gloomy and covered
with storm-clouds, which seldom threatened in vain; we were, besides,
enveloped in almost perpetual mists, bounding our prospect to a few
fathoms. In a short time, the temperature of the air had fallen from 24
deg. to 3 deg. So sudden a change is always disagreeable, and often
dangerous. We had to thank the skill and attention of our physician,
Dr. Siegwald, that it did not prove so to us. Such rough weather is not
common to the latitude we were in at that season; but it is peculiar to
the Japanese coast even in summer. Whales and storm-birds showed
themselves in great numbers, reminding us that we were hastening to the
North, and were already far from the luxuriant groves of the South-Sea
islands.
The wind continued so favourable, that on the 7th of June we could
already see the high mountains of Kamtschatka in their winter clothing.
Their jagged summits reaching to the heavens, crested with everlasting
snow, which glitters in the sunbeams, while their declivities are begirt
with clouds, give a magnificent aspect to this coast. On the following
day, we reached Awatscha Bay, and in the evening anchored in the harbour
of St. Peter and St. Paul.
The great peninsula of Kamtschatka, stretching to the river Anadir on
the North, and South to the Kurilian Islands, bathed on the east by the
ocean, and on the west by the sea of Ochotsk, is, like many men, better
than its reputation. It is supposed to be the roughest and most desolate
corner of the world, and yet it lies under the same latitude as England
and Scotland, and is equal in size to both. The summer is indeed much
shorter, but it is also much finer; and the vegetation is more luxuriant
than in Great Britain. The winter lasts long, and its discomforts are
increased by the quantity of snow that falls; but in the southern parts
the cold is moderate; and experience has repeatedly refuted the
erroneous opinion, that on account of its long duration, and the
consequent curtailment of the summer season, corn cannot be
efficaciously cultivated here.
Although the snow lies in some of the valleys till the end of May,
because the high, over-shadowing mountains intercept the warm sunbeams,
yet garden-plants prosper. Potatoes generally yield a triple crop, and
would perfectly supply the want of bread, if the inhabitants cultivated
them more diligently: but the easier mode of providing fish in | 2,295.861523 |
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BLOOD and IRON
_Origin of German Empire
As Revealed by Character
of Its Founder, Bismarck_
BY
JOHN HUBERT GREUSEL
THE SHAKESPEARE PRESS
114-116 E. 28th St.
New York
1915
Copyright, 1915, John Hubert Greusel
_Dedicated to Stella My Wife_
CONTENTS
| 2,295.959682 |
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generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Superscripted characters are within brackets and are preceded by a
carat character: W^{m.}.
_LITTLE NOVELS BY
FAVOURITE AUTHORS_
[Illustration]
The Saint of the
Dragon’s Dale
[Illustration]
WILLIAM STEARNS DAVIS
[Illustration]
[Illustration: W^{m.} Stearns Davis]
The Saint of the
Dragon’s Dale
_A Fantastic Tale_
BY
WILLIAM STEARNS DAVIS
AUTHOR OF “A FRIEND OF CÆSAR,”
“GOD WILLS IT,” ETC.
“_And he wist not that his face shone._”
EXODUS xxxiv. 29.
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1903
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1903,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up, electrotyped, and published July, 1903.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
TO
LE BARON RUSSELL BRIGGS
AN EVER KINDLY
FRIEND AND COUNSELLOR
TO ME
AS TO SO MANY OTHER
SONS OF HARVARD
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. JEROME OF THE DRAGON’S DALE 1
II. WITCH MARTHA 14
III. MAID AGNES 26
IV. THE DOVE AT THE DRAGON’S DALE 38
V. JEROME IS TEMPTED OF THE DEVIL 49
VI. THE HERALD OF THE KAISER 61
VII. FRITZ THE MASTERLESS 74
VIII. GRAF LUDWIG 87
IX. HARUN KNOWS THE WAY 101
X. THE EVENING LIGHT 115
ILLUSTRATIONS
Portrait of William Stearns Davis _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
“‘Give him the maid, Franz, and all the
fiends go with her’” 33
“‘Back to Witch Martha; back! Fly fast,
as you love me’” 84
[Illustration]
THE SAINT OF THE DRAGON’S DALE
CHAPTER I
JEROME OF THE DRAGON’S DALE
Patter, patter,--the rain had beaten all day on the brown roofs of
Eisenach. The wind swept in raw gusts across the rippling ocean of
pines and beeches which crowded upon the little town from many a
swelling hill. Under the grey battlements the Hörsel brawled angrily.
At the Marien Gate, Andreas the warder dozed in his box, wrapping his
great cloak tighter. He had searched few incoming wagons for toll that
day. It was very cold, as often chances even in summer in tree-carpeted
Thuringia. Andreas was sinking into another day-dream, when Joram, his
shaggy dog, having opened one eye, opened the other, then started his
master with a bark.
“Hoch! hold!” cried Andreas, rubbing his eyes. “Who passes?”
“ | 2,296.003342 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.0342570 | 2,123 | 7 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
MARRIAGE, AS IT WAS, AS IT IS, AND AS IT SHOULD BE
A PLEA FOR REFORM
By Annie Besant
Second Edition
London: Freethought Publishing Company
1882.
MARRIAGE: AS IT WAS, AS IT IS, AND AS IT SHOULD BE.
"_Either all human beings have equal rights, or none have any_."
--Condorcet.
I. MARRIAGE
|The recognition of human rights may be said to be of modern growth, and
even yet they are but very imperfectly understood. Liberty used to
be regarded as a privilege bestowed, instead of as an inherent right;
rights of classes have often been claimed: right to rule, right to tax,
right to punish, all these have been argued for and maintained by force;
but these are not rights, they are only wrongs veiled as legal rights.
Jean Jacques Rousseau struck a new note when he cried: "Men are
born free;" free by birthright was a new thought, when declared as a
universal inheritance, and this "gospel of Jean Jacques Rousseau"
dawned on the world as the sun-rising of a glorious day--a day of human
liberty, unrestrained by class. In 1789 the doctrine of the "Rights of
Man" received its first European sanction by law; in the August of that
year the National Assembly of France proclaimed: "Men are born, and
remain, free and equal in rights.... The aim of political association is
the conservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man;
these rights are--liberty, property, safety, and resistance of tyranny."
During savage and semi-civilised ages these "imprescriptible rights"
are never dreamed of as existing; brute force is king; might is the only
right, and the strong arm is the only argument whose logic meets with
general recognition. In warlike tribes fair equality is found, and the
chief is only _primus inter pares_; but when the nomadic tribe settles
down into an agricultural community, when the habit of bearing arms
ceases to be universal, when wealth begins to accumulate, and the
village or town offers attractions for pillage, then strength becomes
at once a terror and a possible defence. The weak obey some powerful
neighbour partly because they cannot resist, and partly because they
desire, by their submission, to gain a strong protection against their
enemies. They submit to the exactions of one that they may be shielded
from the tyranny of many, and yield up their natural liberty to some
extent to preserve themselves from being entirely enslaved. Very slowly
do they learn that the union of many individually feeble is stronger
than a few powerful, isolated tyrants, and gradually law takes the
place of despotic will; gradually the feeling of self-respect, of
independence, of love of liberty, grows, until at last man claims
freedom as of right, and denies the authority of any to rule him without
his own consent.
Thus the Rights of Man have become an accepted doctrine, but,
unfortunately, they are only rights of _man,_ in the exclusive sense of
the word. They are sexual, and not human rights, and until they
become human rights, society will never rest on a sure, because just,
foundation. Women, as well as men, "are born and remain free and equal
in rights;" women, as well as men, have "natural and imprescriptible
rights;" for women, as well as for men, "these rights are--liberty,
property, safety, and resistance of tyranny." Of these rights only crime
should deprive them, just as by crime men also are deprived of them;
to deny these rights to women, is either to deny them to humanity _qua_
humanity, or to deny that women form a part of humanity; if women's
rights are denied, men's rights have no logical basis, no claim to
respect; then tyranny ceases to be a crime, slavery is no longer a
scandal; "either all human beings have equal rights, or none have any."
Naturally, in the savage state, women shared the fate of the physically
weak, not only because, as a rule, they are smaller-framed and less
muscular than their male comrades, but also because the bearing and
suckling of children is a drain on their physical resources from
which men are exempt. Hence she has suffered from "the right of the
strongest," even more than has man, and her exclusion from all political
life has prevented the redressal which man has wrought out for himself;
while claiming freedom for himself he has not loosened her chains, and
while striking down his own tyrants, he has maintained his personal
tyranny in the home. Nor has this generally been done by deliberate
intention: it is rather the survival of the old system, which has only
been abolished so slowly as regards men. Mrs. Mill writes: "That those
who were physically weaker should have been made legally inferior, is
quite conformable to the mode in which the world has been governed.
Until very lately, the rule of physical strength was the general law of
human affairs. Throughout history, the nations, races, classes, which
found themselves strongest, either in muscles, in riches, or in military
discipline, have conquered and held in subjection the rest. If, even
in the most improved nations, the law of the sword is at last
discountenanced as unworthy, it is only since the calumniated eighteenth
century. Wars of conquest have only ceased since democratic revolutions
began. The world is very young, and has only just begun to cast off
injustice. It is only now getting rid of <DW64> slavery. It is only now
getting rid of monarchical despotism. It is only now getting rid of
hereditary feudal nobility. It is only now getting rid of disabilities
on the ground of religion. It is only beginning to treat any _men_ as
citizens, except the rich and a favoured portion of the middle
class. Can we wonder that it has not yet done as much for women?"
("Enfranchisement of Women," Mrs. Mill. In J. S. Mill's "Discussions
and Dissertations," Vol. II., page 421.) The difference between men and
women in all civil rights is, however, with few, although important,
exceptions, confined to married women; i.e., women in relation with men.
Unmarried women of all ages suffer under comparatively few disabilities;
it is marriage which brings with it the weight of injustice and of legal
degradation.
In savage times marriage was a matter either of force, fraud, or
purchase. Women were merchandise, by the sale of whom their male
relatives profited, or they were captives in war, the spoil of the
conqueror, or they were stolen away from the paternal home. In all
cases, however, the possession once obtained, they became the property
of the men who married them, and the husband was their "lord," their
"master." In the old Hebrew books--still accounted sacred by Jews and
Christians--the wife is regarded as the property of her husband. A man
may "sell his daughter to be a maidservant" i.e., a concubine, as is
shown by the following verse (Ex. xxi. 7), and Jacob served seven years
for each of his wives, Leah and Rachel; his other two wives were his by
gift, and were rather concubines than recognised wives, their children
counting to their mistresses. If a Hebrew conquered his enemies, and saw
"among the captives a beautiful woman, and hast a desire unto her, that
thou wouldst have her to thy wife," he might take her home, and become
her husband, "and she shall be thy wife" (Deut. xxi 10-14). After the
destruction of Benjamin, as related in Judges xx., it was arranged that
the survivors should possess themselves of women as wives by force
and fraud: "Life in wait in the vineyards, and see and behold if the
daughters of Shiloh come out to dance in dances, then come ye out of
the vineyards, and catch you every man his wife.... And the children of
Benjamin did so, and took their wives according to their number, of them
that danced, whom they caught" (Judges xxi. 20, 21, 23). The same plan
was adopted by the Romans in their earliest days, when they needed
wives. Romulus invited the people of the Sabines and the neighbouring
towns to see some public games, and in the midst of the show the Romans
rushed in and carried off all the marriageable maidens they could lay
hands on (Liddell's "History of Rome," p. 20). These instances may be
objected to as legendary, but they are faithful pictures of the rough
wooing of early times. Among some barbarous nations the winning of a
bride is still harsher: the bridegroom rushes into the father's house
knocks the maiden down, picks up her senseless body, flings it over
his shoulder, and runs for his life; he is pursued by the youth of the
village, pelted with stones, sticks, &c., and has to win his wife by
sheer strength and swiftness. In some tribes this is a mere marriage
ceremony, a survival from the time when the fight was a real one, and
amongst ourselves the slipper thrown after the departing bridegroom and
bride is a direct descendant of the heavier missiles thrown with deadly
intent thousands of years ago by our remote ancestors. Amongst many
semi-barbar | 2,296.054297 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.0394330 | 2,131 | 7 |
E-text prepared by Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
A TEXAS MATCHMAKER
by
ANDY ADAMS
Author of 'The Log of a Cowboy'
ILLUSTRATED BY E. BOYD SMITH
1904
[Illustration: ROLLING THE BULL OVER LIKE A HOOP (page 207)]
TO
FRANK H. EARNEST
MOUNTED INSPECTOR U.S. CUSTOMS SERVICE
LAREDO, TEXAS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. LANCE LOVELACE
II. SHEPHERD'S FERRY
III. LAS PALOMAS
IV. CHRISTMAS
V. A PIGEON HUNT
VI. SPRING OF '76
VII. SAN JACINTO DAY
VIII. A CAT HUNT ON THE FRIO
IX. THE ROSE AND ITS THORN
X. AFTERMATH
XI. A TURKEY BAKE
XII. SUMMER OF '77
XIII. HIDE HUNTING
XIV. A TWO YEARS' DROUTH
XV. IN COMMEMORATION
XVI. MATCHMAKING
XVII. WINTER AT LAS PALOMAS
XVIII. AN INDIAN SCARE
XIX. HORSE BRANDS
XX. SHADOWS
XXI. INTERLOCUTORY PROCEEDINGS
XXII. SUNSET
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
ROLLING THE BULL OVER LIKE A HOOP
WE GOT THE AMBULANCE OFF BEFORE SUNRISE
FLASHED A MESSAGE BACK
GAVE THE WILDEST HORSES THEIR HEADS
HE SPED DOWN THE COURSE
UTTERING A SINGLE PIERCING SNORT
CHAPTER I
LANCE LOVELACE
When I first found employment with Lance Lovelace, a Texas cowman, I
had not yet attained my majority, while he was over sixty. Though not
a native of Texas, "Uncle Lance" was entitled to be classed among its
pioneers, his parents having emigrated from Tennessee along with a party
of Stephen F. Austin's colonists in 1821. The colony with which his
people reached the state landed at Quintana, at the mouth of the Brazos
River, and shared the various hardships that befell all the early Texan
settlers, moving inland later to a more healthy locality. Thus the
education of young Lovelace was one of privation. Like other boys in
pioneer families, he became in turn a hewer of wood or drawer of
water, as the necessities of the household required, in reclaiming the
wilderness. When Austin hoisted the new-born Lone Star flag, and called
upon the sturdy pioneers to defend it, the adventurous settlers came
from every quarter of the territory, and among the first who responded
to the call to arms was young Lance Lovelace. After San Jacinto, when
the fighting was over and the victory won, he laid down his arms,
and returned to ranching with the same zeal and energy. The first
legislature assembled voted to those who had borne arms in behalf of the
new republic, lands in payment for their services. With this land scrip
for his pay, young Lovelace, in company with others, set out for the
territory lying south of the Nueces. They were a band of daring spirits.
The country was primitive and fascinated them, and they remained. Some
settled on the Frio River, though the majority crossed the Nueces, many
going as far south as the Rio Grande. The country was as large as the
men were daring, and there was elbow room for all and to spare. Lance
Lovelace located a ranch a few miles south of the Nueces River, and,
from the cooing of the doves in the encinal, named it Las Palomas.
"When I first settled here in 1838," said Uncle Lance to me one morning,
as we rode out across the range, "my nearest neighbor lived forty miles
up the river at Fort Ewell. Of course there were some Mexican families
nearer, north on the Frio, but they don't count. Say, Tom, but she was a
purty country then! Why, from those hills yonder, any morning you could
see a thousand antelope in a band going into the river to drink. And
wild turkeys? Well, the first few years we lived here, whole flocks
roosted every night in that farther point of the encinal. And in the
winter these prairies were just flooded with geese and brant. If you
wanted venison, all you had to do was to ride through those mesquite
thickets north of the river to jump a hundred deer in a morning's ride.
Oh, I tell you she was a land of plenty."
The pioneers of Texas belong to a day and generation which has almost
gone. If strong arms and daring spirits were required to conquer the
wilderness, Nature seemed generous in the supply; for nearly all were
stalwart types of the inland viking. Lance Lovelace, when I first met
him, would have passed for a man in middle life. Over six feet in
height, with a rugged constitution, he little felt his threescore
years, having spent his entire lifetime in the outdoor occupation of a
ranchman. Living on the wild game of the country, sleeping on the ground
by a camp-fire when his work required it, as much at home in the saddle
as by his ranch fireside, he was a romantic type of the strenuous
pioneer.
He was a man of simple tastes, true as tested steel in his friendships,
with a simple honest mind which followed truth and right as unerringly
as gravitation. In his domestic affairs, however, he was unfortunate.
The year after locating at Las Palomas, he had returned to his former
home on the Colorado River, where he had married Mary Bryan, also of the
family of Austin's colonists. Hopeful and happy they returned to their
new home on the Nueces, but before the first anniversary of their
wedding day arrived, she, with her first born, were laid in the same
grave. But grief does not kill, and the young husband bore his loss as
brave men do in living out their allotted day. But to the hour of his
death the memory of Mary Bryan mellowed him into a child, and, when
unoccupied, with every recurring thought of her or the mere mention of
her name, he would fall into deep reverie, lasting sometimes for hours.
And although he contracted two marriages afterward, they were simply
marriages of convenience, to which, after their termination, he
frequently referred flippantly, sometimes with irreverence, for they
were unhappy alliances.
On my arrival at Las Palomas, the only white woman on the ranch was
"Miss Jean," a spinster sister of its owner, and twenty years his
junior. After his third bitter experience in the lottery of matrimony,
evidently he gave up hope, and induced his sister to come out and
preside as the mistress of Las Palomas. She was not tall like her
brother, but rather plump for her forty years. She had large gray eyes,
with long black eyelashes, and she had a trick of looking out from under
them which was both provoking and disconcerting, and no doubt many an
admirer had been deceived by those same roguish, laughing eyes. Every
man, Mexican and child on the ranch was the devoted courtier of Miss
Jean, for she was a lovable woman; and in spite of her isolated life and
the constant plaguings of her brother on being a spinster, she fitted
neatly into our pastoral life. It was these teasings of her brother that
gave me my first inkling that the old ranchero was a wily matchmaker,
though he religiously denied every such accusation. With a remarkable
complacency, Jean Lovelace met and parried her tormentor, but her
brother never tired of his hobby while there was a third person to
listen.
Though an unlettered man, Lance Lovelace had been a close observer of
humanity. The big book of Life had been open always before him, and he
had profited from its pages. With my advent at Las Palomas, there were
less than half a dozen books on the ranch, among them a copy of Bret
Harte's poems and a large Bible.
"That book alone," said he to several of us one chilly evening, as we
sat around the open fireplace, "is the greatest treatise on humanity
ever written. Go with me to-day to any city in any country in
Christendom, and I'll show you a man walk up the steps of his church
on Sunday who thanks God that he's better than his neighbor. But you
needn't go so far if you don't want to. I reckon if I could see myself,
I might show symptoms of it occasionally. Sis here thanks God daily that
she is better than that Barnes girl who cut her out of Amos Alexander.
Now, don't you deny it, for you know it's gospel truth! And that book
is reliable on lots of other things. Take marriage, for instance. It is
just as natural for men and women to mate at the proper time, as it is
for steers to shed in the spring. But there's no necessity of making all
this fuss about it. The Bible way discounts all these modern methods.
'He took unto himself a wife' is the way it describes such events. But
now such an occurrence has to be announced, months in advance. And after
the wedding is over, in less than a year sometimes, they are glad to
sneak off and get the bond dissolved | 2,296.059473 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.1412670 | 855 | 9 |
E-text prepared by Sankar Viswanathan, David Edwards, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive (http://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the lovely original illustrations.
See 48537-h.htm or 48537-h.zip:
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Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/billybounce00dens
[Illustration: _"Why it_ is, _a large fried egg," said Billy,
excitedly_.--Page 47. Frontispiece.]
BILLY BOUNCE
by
W. W. DENSLOW and DUDLEY A. BRAGDON
Pictures by Denslow
G. W. Dillingham Co.
Publishers New York
Copyright 1906 by W. W. Denslow
All rights reserved.
Issued September, 1906.
To
"Pete" and "Ponsie"
List of Chapters.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. DARK PLOT OF NICKEL PLATE, THE POLISHED
VILLAIN 9
II. A JUMP TO SHAMVILLE 22
III. BILLY IS CAPTURED BY TOMATO 34
IV. ADVENTURES IN EGGS-AGGERATION 47
V. PEASE PORRIDGE HOT 63
VI. BLIND MAN'S BUFF 77
VII. THE WISHING BOTTLE 88
VIII. GAMMON AND SPINACH 97
IX. IN SILLY LAND 110
X. SEA URCHIN AND NE'ER DO EEL 124
XI. IN DERBY TOWN 138
XII. O'FUDGE 152
XIII. BILLY PLAYS A TRICK ON BOREA 167
XIV. KING CALCIUM AND STERRY OPTICAN 181
XV. BILLY MEETS GLUCOSE 195
XVI. IN SPOOKVILLE 210
XVII. IN THE VOLCANO OF VOCIFEROUS 221
XVIII. THE ELUSIVE BRIDGE 236
XIX. IN THE DARK, NEVER WAS 247
XX. THE WINDOW OF FEAR 257
XXI. IN THE QUEEN BEE PALACE 267
Full Page Illustrations
"_Why it_ is, _a large fried egg," said Billy, excitedly_.
--Page 47....Frontispiece.
PAGE
"I _can't tell you where Bogie Man lives, it's against the rules_." 14
_"Now," said Mr. Gas, "be careful not to sit on the ceiling."_ 17
"_Come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce._" 39
_Billy never wanted for plenty to eat._ 64
_"He-he-ho-ho, oh! what a joke," cried the Scally Wags._ 82
_"That's my black cat-o-nine tails," said the old woman._ 90
_The Night Mare and the Dream Food Sprites._ 101
_"Get off, you're sinking us," cried Billy._ 134
_He saw flying to meet him several shaggy bears._ 141
_"Talking about me, were you?" said Boreas, arriving in a swirl of
snow._ 172
_"Me feyther," cried she, in a tragic voice, " | 2,296.161307 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.1455580 | 3,822 | 8 |
Produced by Sue Asscher and David Widger
MASTER FRANCIS RABELAIS
FIVE BOOKS OF THE LIVES, HEROIC DEEDS AND SAYINGS OF
GARGANTUA AND HIS SON PANTAGRUEL
[Illustration: He Did Cry Like a Cow--frontispiece]
[Illustration: titlepage]
Translated into English by
Sir Thomas Urquhart of Cromarty
and
Peter Antony Motteux
The text of the first Two Books of Rabelais has been reprinted from the
first edition (1653) of Urquhart's translation. Footnotes initialled 'M.'
are drawn from the Maitland Club edition (1838); other footnotes are by the
translator. Urquhart's translation of Book III. appeared posthumously in
1693, with a new edition of Books I. and II., under Motteux's editorship.
Motteux's rendering of Books IV. and V. followed in 1708. Occasionally (as
the footnotes indicate) passages omitted by Motteux have been restored from
the 1738 copy edited by Ozell.
[Illustration: Rabelais Dissecting Society--portrait2]
CONTENTS.
[Illustration: Francois Rabelais--portrait]
Introduction.
Had Rabelais never written his strange and marvellous romance, no one would
ever have imagined the possibility of its production. It stands outside
other things--a mixture of mad mirth and gravity, of folly and reason, of
childishness and grandeur, of the commonplace and the out-of-the-way, of
popular verve and polished humanism, of mother-wit and learning, of
baseness and nobility, of personalities and broad generalization, of the
comic and the serious, of the impossible and the familiar. Throughout the
whole there is such a force of life and thought, such a power of good
sense, a kind of assurance so authoritative, that he takes rank with the
greatest; and his peers are not many. You may like him or not, may attack
him or sing his praises, but you cannot ignore him. He is of those that
die hard. Be as fastidious as you will; make up your mind to recognize
only those who are, without any manner of doubt, beyond and above all
others; however few the names you keep, Rabelais' will always remain.
We may know his work, may know it well, and admire it more every time we
read it. After being amused by it, after having enjoyed it, we may return
again to study it and to enter more fully into its meaning. Yet there is
no possibility of knowing his own life in the same fashion. In spite of
all the efforts, often successful, that have been made to throw light on
it, to bring forward a fresh document, or some obscure mention in a
forgotten book, to add some little fact, to fix a date more precisely, it
remains nevertheless full of uncertainty and of gaps. Besides, it has been
burdened and sullied by all kinds of wearisome stories and foolish
anecdotes, so that really there is more to weed out than to add.
This injustice, at first wilful, had its rise in the sixteenth century, in
the furious attacks of a monk of Fontevrault, Gabriel de Puy-Herbault, who
seems to have drawn his conclusions concerning the author from the book,
and, more especially, in the regrettable satirical epitaph of Ronsard,
piqued, it is said, that the Guises had given him only a little pavillon in
the Forest of Meudon, whereas the presbytery was close to the chateau.
From that time legend has fastened on Rabelais, has completely travestied
him, till, bit by bit, it has made of him a buffoon, a veritable clown, a
vagrant, a glutton, and a drunkard.
The likeness of his person has undergone a similar metamorphosis. He has
been credited with a full moon of a face, the rubicund nose of an
incorrigible toper, and thick coarse lips always apart because always
laughing. The picture would have surprised his friends no less than
himself. There have been portraits painted of Rabelais; I have seen many
such. They are all of the seventeenth century, and the greater number are
conceived in this jovial and popular style.
As a matter of fact there is only one portrait of him that counts, that has
more than the merest chance of being authentic, the one in the Chronologie
collee or coupee. Under this double name is known and cited a large sheet
divided by lines and cross lines into little squares, containing about a
hundred heads of illustrious Frenchmen. This sheet was stuck on pasteboard
for hanging on the wall, and was cut in little pieces, so that the
portraits might be sold separately. The majority of the portraits are of
known persons and can therefore be verified. Now it can be seen that these
have been selected with care, and taken from the most authentic sources;
from statues, busts, medals, even stained glass, for the persons of most
distinction, from earlier engravings for the others. Moreover, those of
which no other copies exist, and which are therefore the most valuable,
have each an individuality very distinct, in the features, the hair, the
beard, as well as in the costume. Not one of them is like another. There
has been no tampering with them, no forgery. On the contrary, there is in
each a difference, a very marked personality. Leonard Gaultier, who
published this engraving towards the end of the sixteenth century,
reproduced a great many portraits besides from chalk drawings, in the style
of his master, Thomas de Leu. It must have been such drawings that were
the originals of those portraits which he alone has issued, and which may
therefore be as authentic and reliable as the others whose correctness we
are in a position to verify.
Now Rabelais has here nothing of the Roger Bontemps of low degree about
him. His features are strong, vigorously cut, and furrowed with deep
wrinkles; his beard is short and scanty; his cheeks are thin and already
worn-looking. On his head he wears the square cap of the doctors and the
clerks, and his dominant expression, somewhat rigid and severe, is that of
a physician and a scholar. And this is the only portrait to which we need
attach any importance.
This is not the place for a detailed biography, nor for an exhaustive
study. At most this introduction will serve as a framework on which to fix
a few certain dates, to hang some general observations. The date of
Rabelais' birth is very doubtful. For long it was placed as far back as
1483: now scholars are disposed to put it forward to about 1495. The
reason, a good one, is that all those whom he has mentioned as his friends,
or in any real sense his contemporaries, were born at the very end of the
fifteenth century. And, indeed, it is in the references in his romance to
names, persons, and places, that the most certain and valuable evidence is
to be found of his intercourse, his patrons, his friendships, his
sojournings, and his travels: his own work is the best and richest mine in
which to search for the details of his life.
Like Descartes and Balzac, he was a native of Touraine, and Tours and
Chinon have only done their duty in each of them erecting in recent years a
statue to his honour, a twofold homage reflecting credit both on the
province and on the town. But the precise facts about his birth are
nevertheless vague. Huet speaks of the village of Benais, near Bourgeuil,
of whose vineyards Rabelais makes mention. As the little vineyard of La
Deviniere, near Chinon, and familiar to all his readers, is supposed to
have belonged to his father, Thomas Rabelais, some would have him born
there. It is better to hold to the earlier general opinion that Chinon was
his native town; Chinon, whose praises he sang with such heartiness and
affection. There he might well have been born in the Lamproie house, which
belonged to his father, who, to judge from this circumstance, must have
been in easy circumstances, with the position of a well-to-do citizen. As
La Lamproie in the seventeenth century was a hostelry, the father of
Rabelais has been set down as an innkeeper. More probably he was an
apothecary, which would fit in with the medical profession adopted by his
son in after years. Rabelais had brothers, all older than himself.
Perhaps because he was the youngest, his father destined him for the
Church.
The time he spent while a child with the Benedictine monks at Seuille is
uncertain. There he might have made the acquaintance of the prototype of
his Friar John, a brother of the name of Buinart, afterwards Prior of
Sermaize. He was longer at the Abbey of the Cordeliers at La Baumette,
half a mile from Angers, where he became a novice. As the brothers Du
Bellay, who were later his Maecenases, were then studying at the University
of Angers, where it is certain he was not a student, it is doubtless from
this youthful period that his acquaintance and alliance with them should
date. Voluntarily, or induced by his family, Rabelais now embraced the
ecclesiastical profession, and entered the monastery of the Franciscan
Cordeliers at Fontenay-le-Comte, in Lower Poitou, which was honoured by his
long sojourn at the vital period of his life when his powers were ripening.
There it was he began to study and to think, and there also began his
troubles.
In spite of the wide-spread ignorance among the monks of that age, the
encyclopaedic movement of the Renaissance was attracting all the lofty
minds. Rabelais threw himself into it with enthusiasm, and Latin antiquity
was not enough for him. Greek, a study discountenanced by the Church,
which looked on it as dangerous and tending to freethought and heresy, took
possession of him. To it he owed the warm friendship of Pierre Amy and of
the celebrated Guillaume Bude. In fact, the Greek letters of the latter
are the best source of information concerning this period of Rabelais'
life. It was at Fontenay-le-Comte also that he became acquainted with the
Brissons and the great jurist Andre Tiraqueau, whom he never mentions but
with admiration and deep affection. Tiraqueau's treatise, De legibus
connubialibus, published for the first time in 1513, has an important
bearing on the life of Rabelais. There we learn that, dissatisfied with
the incomplete translation of Herodotus by Laurent Valla, Rabelais had
retranslated into Latin the first book of the History. That translation
unfortunately is lost, as so many other of his scattered works. It is
probably in this direction that the hazard of fortune has most discoveries
and surprises in store for the lucky searcher. Moreover, as in this law
treatise Tiraqueau attacked women in a merciless fashion, President Amaury
Bouchard published in 1522 a book in their defence, and Rabelais, who was a
friend of both the antagonists, took the side of Tiraqueau. It should be
observed also in passing, that there are several pages of such audacious
plain-speaking, that Rabelais, though he did not copy these in his Marriage
of Panurge, has there been, in his own fashion, as out spoken as Tiraqueau.
If such freedom of language could be permitted in a grave treatise of law,
similar liberties were certainly, in the same century, more natural in a
book which was meant to amuse.
The great reproach always brought against Rabelais is not the want of
reserve of his language merely, but his occasional studied coarseness,
which is enough to spoil his whole work, and which lowers its value. La
Bruyere, in the chapter Des ouvrages de l'esprit, not in the first edition
of the Caracteres, but in the fifth, that is to say in 1690, at the end of
the great century, gives us on this subject his own opinion and that of his
age:
'Marot and Rabelais are inexcusable in their habit of scattering filth
about their writings. Both of them had genius enough and wit enough to do
without any such expedient, even for the amusement of those persons who
look more to the laugh to be got out of a book than to what is admirable in
it. Rabelais especially is incomprehensible. His book is an enigma,--one
may say inexplicable. It is a Chimera; it is like the face of a lovely
woman with the feet and the tail of a reptile, or of some creature still
more loathsome. It is a monstrous confusion of fine and rare morality with
filthy corruption. Where it is bad, it goes beyond the worst; it is the
delight of the basest of men. Where it is good, it reaches the exquisite,
the very best; it ministers to the most delicate tastes.'
Putting aside the rather slight connection established between two men of
whom one is of very little importance compared with the other, this is
otherwise very admirably said, and the judgment is a very just one, except
with regard to one point--the misunderstanding of the atmosphere in which
the book was created, and the ignoring of the examples of a similar
tendency furnished by literature as well as by the popular taste. Was it
not the Ancients that began it? Aristophanes, Catullus, Petronius,
Martial, flew in the face of decency in their ideas as well as in the words
they used, and they dragged after them in this direction not a few of the
Latin poets of the Renaissance, who believed themselves bound to imitate
them. Is Italy without fault in this respect? Her story-tellers in prose
lie open to easy accusation. Her Capitoli in verse go to incredible
lengths; and the astonishing success of Aretino must not be forgotten, nor
the licence of the whole Italian comic theatre of the sixteenth century.
The Calandra of Bibbiena, who was afterwards a Cardinal, and the Mandragola
of Machiavelli, are evidence enough, and these were played before Popes,
who were not a whit embarrassed. Even in England the drama went very far
for a time, and the comic authors of the reign of Charles II., evidently
from a reaction, and to shake off the excess and the wearisomeness of
Puritan prudery and affectation, which sent them to the opposite extreme,
are not exactly noted for their reserve. But we need not go beyond France.
Slight indications, very easily verified, are all that may be set down
here; a formal and detailed proof would be altogether too dangerous.
Thus, for instance, the old Fabliaux--the Farces of the fifteenth century,
the story-tellers of the sixteenth--reveal one of the sides, one of the
veins, so to speak, of our literature. The art that addresses itself to
the eye had likewise its share of this coarseness. Think of the sculptures
on the capitals and the modillions of churches, and the crude frankness of
certain painted windows of the fifteenth century. Queen Anne was, without
any doubt, one of the most virtuous women in the world. Yet she used to go
up the staircase of her chateau at Blois, and her eyes were not offended at
seeing at the foot of a bracket a not very decent carving of a monk and a
nun. Neither did she tear out of her book of Hours the large miniature of
the winter month, in which, careless of her neighbours' eyes, the mistress
of the house, sitting before her great fireplace, warms herself in a
fashion which it is not advisable that dames of our age should imitate.
The statue of Cybele by the Tribolo, executed for Francis I., and placed,
not against a wall, but in the middle of Queen Claude's chamber at
Fontainebleau, has behind it an attribute which would have been more in
place on a statue of Priapus, and which was the symbol of generativeness.
The tone of the conversations was ordinarily of a surprising coarseness,
and the Precieuses, in spite of their absurdities, did a very good work in
setting themselves in opposition to it. The worthy Chevalier de
La-Tour-Landry, in his Instructions to his own daughters, without a thought
of harm, gives examples which are singular indeed, and in Caxton's
translation these are not omitted. The Adevineaux Amoureux, printed at
Bruges by Colard | 2,296.165598 |
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CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN
KEY TO THE COVER.
The 1st Arch contains a glimpse of Palamon and Arcite fighting
desperately, yet wounded oftener and sharplier by Love's arrows than by
each deadly stroke. The ruthless boy aloft showers gaily upon them his
poisoned shafts.
The 2nd contains Aurelius and Dorigen--that loving wife left on Breton
shores, who was so nearly caught in the trap she set for herself. Aurelius
offers her his heart aflame. It is true his attitude is humble, but she is
utterly in his power--she cannot get away whilst he is kneeling on her
dress.
The 3rd represents the Summoner led away, but this time neither to profit
nor to pleasure, by his horned companion. The wicked spirit holds the
reins of both horses in his hand, and the Summoner already quakes in
anticipation of what is in store for him.
The 4th contains the three rioters. The emblem of that Death they sought
so wantonly hangs over their heads; the reward of sin is not far off.
The 5th Arch is too much concealed by the lock to do more than suggest one
of Griselda's babes.
The KEY, from which the book takes its name, we trust may unlock the too
little known treasures of the first of English poets. The _Daisy_, symbol
for all time both of Chaucer and of children, and thus curiously fitted to
be the connecting link between them, may point the way to lessons fairer
than flowers in stories as simple as daisies.
_CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN_
Demy 8vo, cloth limp, 2_s._ 6_d._
CHAUC | 2,296.166529 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.2389800 | 1,466 | 16 |
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{Transcriber's Note: Quotation marks have been standardized to modern
usage. Footnotes have been placed to immediately follow the paragraphs
referencing them. Transcriber's notes are in curly braces; square brackets
and parentheses indicate original content.}
{Illustration: Frontispiece--Norman B. Wood.}
LIVES of FAMOUS
INDIAN CHIEFS
FROM COFACHIQUI, THE INDIAN PRINCESS, AND
POWHATAN; DOWN TO AND INCLUDING
CHIEF JOSEPH AND GERONIMO.
Also an answer, from the
latest research, of the query,
WHENCE CAME THE INDIAN?
Together with a number
of thrillingly interesting
INDIAN STORIES AND ANECDOTES FROM HISTORY
* * * * *
COPIOUSLY AND SPLENDIDLY ILLUSTRATED, IN PART,
BY OUR SPECIAL ARTIST.
* * * * *
By
NORMAN B. WOOD
Historian, Lecturer, and Author of "The White Side of a Black Subject" (out
of print after twelve editions) and "A New <DW64> for a New Century,"
which has reached a circulation of nearly a _hundred thousand copies._
{Illustration: Two Indians in a canoe.}
PUBLISHED BY
AMERICAN INDIAN HISTORICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY
Brady Block, Aurora, Ill.
Copyrighted in 1906 by American Indian Historical Publishing Co.,
Aurora, Illinois.
* * * * *
All rights of every kind reserved.
{Illustration: seal.}
PRINTING AND BINDING BY THE HENRY O. SHEPARD CO.
ENGRAVING BY THE INLAND-WALTON CO.
CHICAGO.
TO
THEODORE ROOSEVELT,
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES,
Who has observed closely and recorded justly the
character of the Red Man, and who, in the words
of Chief Quanah Parker, "is the Indian's President
as well as the white man's," this volume is respectfully
dedicated by
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS
* * * * *
page
Introduction, 11
CHAPTER I.
Cofachiqui, The Indian Princess, 21
CHAPTER II.
Powhatan, or Wah-Un-So-Na-Cook, 41
CHAPTER III.
Massasoit, The Friend of the Puritans, 65
CHAPTER IV.
King Philip, or Metacomet, The Last of the Wampanoaghs, 85
CHAPTER V.
Pontiac, The Red Napoleon, Head Chief of the Ottawas and
Organizer of the First Great Indian Confederation, 121
CHAPTER VI.
Logan, or Tal-Ga-Yee-Ta, The Cayuga (Mingo) Chief, Orator
and Friend of the White Man. Also a Brief Sketch of
Cornstalk, 173
CHAPTER VII.
Captain Joseph Brant, or Thay-En-Da-Ne-Gea, Principal
Sachem of the Mohawks and Head Chief of the Iroquois
Confederation, 191
CHAPTER VIII.
Red Jacket, or Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha, "The Keeper Awake." The
Indian Demosthenes, Chief of the Senecas, 237
CHAPTER IX.
Little Turtle, or Michikiniqua, War Chief of the Miamis, and
Conqueror of Harmar and St. Clair, 283
CHAPTER X.
Tecumseh, or "The Shooting Star," Famous War-chief of the
Shawnees, Organizer of the Second Great Indian Confederation
and General in the British Army in the War of 1812, 317
CHAPTER XI.
Black Hawk, or Ma-Ka-Tai-Me-She-Kia-Kiak, and His War, 363
CHAPTER XII.
Shabbona, or Built Like a Bear, The White Man's Friend, a
Celebrated Pottawatomie Chief, 401
CHAPTER XIII.
Sitting Bull, or Tatanka Yotanka, The Great Sioux Chief and
Medicine Man, 443
CHAPTER XIV.
Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perces, or Hin-Mah-Too-Yah-Lat-Kekt,
Thunder Rolling in the Mountains, The Modern Xenophon, 497
CHAPTER XV.
Geronimo, or Go-Yat-Thlay, The Yawner, The Renowned
Apache Chief and Medicine Man, 529
CHAPTER XVI.
Quanah Parker, Head Chief of the Comanches, With, an
Account of the Captivity of His Mother, Cynthia Anne
Parker, Known as "The White Comanche," 563
CHAPTER XVII.
A Sheaf of Good Indian Stories From History, 589
CHAPTER XVIII.
Indian Anecdotes and Incidents, Humorous and Otherwise, 673
CHAPTER XIX.
Whence Came the Aborigines of America? 721
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
* * * * *
page
1 Frontispiece.
2 Cofachiqui, The Indian Princess, 19
3 American Horse, Sioux Chief, 29
4 Powhatan, 39
5 Captain Smith and Pocahontas, 49
6 Pocahontas, or Lady Rebecca, 59
7 Ope-Chan-Ca-Nough, 69
8 Massasoit and Pilgrims, 79
9 Nellie Jumping Eagle, 89
10 King Philip, or Metacomet, 99
11 Philip Rejecting Elliot's Preaching, 109
12 Pontiac, The Red Napoleon, 119
13 Montcalm at Massacre of Quebec, 129
14 Hollow-Horn Bear, Sioux Chief, 139
15 Major Campbell and Pontiac, 149
16 Hollow Horn, 159
17 Starved Rock, 169
18 Logan, The Mingo Orator, 179
19 Logan and the Two Hunters, 189
20 Joseph Brant, Mohawk Chief, 199
21 King Hendrick, Mohawk Chief, 209
22 Sir William Johnson and the | 2,296.25902 |
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THE THRALL OF LEIF THE LUCKY
A Story of Viking Days
By Ottilie A. Liljencrantz
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Where Wolves Thrive Better than Lambs
CHAPTER II
The Maid in the Silver Helmet
CHAPTER III
A Gallant Outlaw
CHAPTER IV
In a Viking Lair
CHAPTER V
The Ire of a Shield-Maiden
CHAPTER VI
The Song of Smiting Steel
CHAPTER VII
The King's Guardsman
CHAPTER VIII
Leif the Cross-Bearer
CHAPTER IX
Before the Chieftain
CHAPTER X
The Royal Blood of Alfred
CHAPTER XI
The Passing of the Scar
CHAPTER XII
Through Bars of Ice
CHAPTER XIII
Eric the Red in His Domain
CHAPTER XIV
For the Sake of the Cross
CHAPTER XV
A Wolf-Pack in Leash
CHAPTER XVI
A Courtier of the King
CHAPTER XVII
The Wooing of Helga
CHAPTER XVIII
The Witch's Den
CHAPTER XIX
Tales of the Unknown West
CHAPTER XX
Alwin's Bane
CHAPTER XXI
The Heart of a Shield-Maiden
CHAPTER XXII
In the Shadow of the Sword
CHAPTER | 2,296.259234 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.2421960 | 824 | 17 |
Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
scanned images of public domain material from The Internet
Archive.
[Illustration: "I HAVE BROUGHT MY LITTLE DAUGHTER TO YOU, MY
FRIEND."--[PAGE 19.]]
The Princess Idleways
_A FAIRY STORY_
BY
MRS. W. J. HAYS
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
CHAPTER I.
You must not suppose that the Princess Idleways was a great, grand
woman, for she was not: she was only a little lovely girl named Laura.
To be sure, she was of high birth; that is to say, her father and
grandfather and great-grandfather, as well as all the fine lady
grandmothers, were people who, not obliged to labor for themselves or
others, having always had more time and wealth and pleasure than they
knew what to do with, were something like the beautiful roses which grow
more and more beautiful with planting and transplanting, and shielding
from too hot a sun or too sharp a wind; but, for all that, roses, as you
know, have thorns.
Little Laura Idleways was as bright and bewitching in appearance as any
rosebud, but she had a few thorns which could prick. She lived in a
great castle high up in the mountains, from the windows of which she
could see hill after hill stretching far away up to the clouds, and
eagles flapping their great wings over deep ravines, down which tumbled
foaming cascades. The castle was a very ancient building, and part of it
was nearly a ruin; indeed, it was so old that Laura's father--who was a
soldier, and not much at home--had decided not to repair it, but allowed
the stones to fall, and would not have them touched; so the wild vines
grew luxuriantly over them, and made a beautiful drapery. But the part
of the castle in which Laura lived was no ruin. The thick walls kept it
cool in summer and warm in winter, and made nice deep seats for the
windows, which were hung with heavy folds of crimson silk. The walls
were covered with superb paintings, the wide rooms were beautiful with
all manner of comforts and luxuries. Low divans of rich and soft
material, ottomans and rugs of Persian and Turkish wool, statues and
statuettes of marble, graceful forms, filled the corners and the niches.
Birds of many colors sang in golden cages, and curious cuckoo-clocks
chimed the hours. Laura's mamma was a fine musician, and her harp and
piano were always ready to yield sweet tones. The library shelves held
books of all kinds and colors; and the cabinets of richly carved wood,
before the glass doors of which Laura often stood, contained rare
shells, minerals, stuffed birds and insects, and strange foreign things
that a child could only wonder about.
Of all places in which to play "hide-and-seek," this castle was the
best--it had so many nooks and corners, such little cosy turns in the
stairs, such odd cupboards, such doors in strange places, so many quaint
pieces of furniture to hide behind--and yet Laura never played
hide-and-seek.
There was a delicious garden, too, full of fragrant bushes and arbors
and rustic seats, and two fountains rained liquid diamonds into marble
basins. But Laura did not play in the garden.
The truth is, Laura was a petted, spoiled, wayward little creature | 2,296.262236 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.2422450 | 666 | 219 | THE PEN OF TRUTH***
Transcribed from the 1814 B. Bennett edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
[Picture: Public domain book cover]
THE
LIVING LETTER,
WRITTEN WITH THE
_PEN OF TRUTH_,
BEING THE SUBSTANCE
Of a Sermon,
PREACHED AT THE
_OBELISK CHAPEL_, _St. George’s Fields_,
On SUNDAY Morning, Sept. 26, 1813.
* * * * *
_By J. CHURCH_, _V. D. M._
* * * * *
My Tongue is the Pen of a ready Writer. Psalm xlv. Ver. 1.
Written among the living in Jerusalem. Isaiah, Chap. iv. V. 3.
I will write on him my new name. Rev. Chap. 3. Ver. 12.
* * * * *
London:
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR,
BY B. BENNETT, TICHBORNE STREET, HAYMARKET.
1814.
* * * * *
_To Miss K. and Miss M._
_Dear Friends_,
_Grace and Peace be with you_:—_I received your kind present of the
Bundle of Pens_, _and beg your acceptance of my thanks for the same_; _I
really stood in need them_, _and I suppose you thought so by the badness
of my writing_, _or my reluctance in sending out more Sermoms from the
Press_. _The Pens were very good_, _and I hope to use them for the Glory
of God only_,—_whilst laying before me they led me to reflect on the
passage I selected for a Text preached from on the following Sunday
morning_, _and I now send you the outlines of the Discourse_. _This
Sermon will no doubt meet with the same reception that others have_;
_some bless_, _some curse_, _some believe the things that are spoken_,
_and some believe not_, _but to the great Head of the Church_, _I humbly
commit my feeble attempt to shew forth his praise_, _praying you may be
able to ascertain your personal interest in the Book of Life_, _where the
names of the elect are enrolled_, _and remain_,
_Your obliged Servant in Christ Jesus_,
[Picture: Signature of J. Church]
A Sermon.
II. CORINTHIANS, Chap. iii. Verses 2 & 3.
_Ye are our Epistle written in our hearts_, _known and read of all
men_. _For as much as ye are manifestly declared to be the Epistle
of Christ ministered by us_, _written_, _not with ink_, _but with the
spirit of the Living God_,—_not in tables of stone_, _but in fleshy
tables of the heart_.
THE Epistle out of which this | 2,296.262285 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.3349880 | 436 | 103 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
LIBRARY OF THE
WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE
ANCIENT AND MODERN
CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER
EDITOR
HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE LUCIA GILBERT RUNKLE
GEORGE HENRY WARNER
ASSOCIATE EDITORS
Connoisseur Edition
VOL. XVI.
NEW YORK
THE INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY
Connoisseur Edition
LIMITED TO FIVE HUNDRED COPIES IN HALF RUSSIA
_No_. ..........
Copyright, 1896, by
R. S. PEALE AND J. A. HILL
_All rights reserved_
THE ADVISORY COUNCIL
CRAWFORD H. TOY, A. M., LL. D.,
Professor of Hebrew, HARVARD UNIVERSITY, Cambridge, Mass.
THOMAS R. LOUNSBURY, LL. D., L. H. D.,
Professor of English in the Sheffield Scientific School of
YALE UNIVERSITY, New Haven, Conn.
WILLIAM M. SLOANE, PH. D., L. H. D.,
Professor of History and Political Science,
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY, Princeton, N. J.
BRANDER MATTHEWS, A. M., LL. B.,
Professor of Literature, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, New York City.
JAMES B. ANGELL, LL. D.,
President of the UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN, Ann Arbor, Mich.
WILLARD FISKE, A. M., PH. D.,
Late Professor of the Germanic and Scandinavian Languages
and Literatures, CORNELL UNIVERSITY, Ithaca, N. Y.
EDWARD S. HOLDEN, A. M., LL. D.,
Director of the Lick Observatory, and | 2,296.355028 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.3391020 | 296 | 15 |
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 book as printed.
Some typographical errors have been corrected. A list follows the
text. No attempt has been made to correct or normalize the printed
accentuation or spelling of French and Italian names or words. Some
illustration-markings have been moved from mid-paragraph for ease of
reading. (etext transcriber's note)
Italian Highways and Byways From a Motor Car
_WORKS OF_
_FRANCIS MILTOUN_
_Rambles on the Riviera_ $2.50
_Rambles in Normandy_ 2.50
_Rambles in Brittany_ 2.50
_The Cathedrals and Churches of the Rhine_ 2.50
_The Cathedrals of Northern France_ 2.50
_The Cathedrals of Southern France_ 2.50
_In the Land of Mosques and Minarets_ 3.00
_Castles and Chateaux of Old Touraine and
the Loire Country_ 3.00
_Castles and Chateaux of Old Navarre and
the Basque Provinces | 2,296.359142 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.3420770 | 7,436 | 14 |
Produced by Rene Anderson Benitz and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note: In this text the following character |
| representations are: |
| [.a] = a with dot above, |
| [.o] = o with dot above, |
| [=a] = a with macron above, |
| [=o] = o with macron above, |
| [=n] = n with macron above, |
| ['=a] = a with acute accent over macron above. |
| Some illustrations have been relocated to fall between paragraphs |
| rather than within. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------+
THE PATAGONIANS
LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET
[Illustration: WAKI KILLING A PUMA.]
AT HOME
WITH
THE PATAGONIANS
A YEAR'S WANDERINGS OVER UNTRODDEN GROUND
FROM THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN
TO THE RIO <DW64>
By GEORGE CHAWORTH MUSTERS
RETIRED COMMANDER R.N.
_WITH MAP AND ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1871
_The right of translation is reserved_
TO MY FRIEND
F. W. EGERTON,
ROYAL NAVY,
THIS NARRATIVE IS DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
In submitting the following pages to the public, I am conscious that
some readers who desire exact and scientific descriptions of the
geography and geology of Patagonia will be disappointed; but it must be
urged as an apology that instruments could not be carried nor safely
used under the circumstances. The course travelled was as carefully laid
down, by the help of a compass, as was possible; and the map of the
country is so far accurate, and, if incomplete, at least is not
imaginative. To others who may perhaps eagerly expect tales of stirring
adventure and hair-breadth escapes, such as are usually recounted as the
every-day occurrences of uncivilised life, I can only express the hope
that this faithful record of life with the Indians all the year round,
if not very sensational, will serve at least to make them really at home
with the Tehuelches. It is a pleasanter task to record my thanks to
those by whose assistance the results of my journey have been utilised;
foremost of whom is the venerable ex-President of the Royal Geographical
Society, Sir RODERICK MURCHISON, whose kindly reception and introduction
of the returned traveller to the Society are gratefully acknowledged.
My obligations are scarcely less to CLEMENTS MARKHAM, C.B., whose
unrivalled knowledge of the early history as well as the geography of
South America has been freely placed at my disposal; and to Dr. HOOKER,
Director of the Royal Gardens, Kew, for his courteous assistance in
identifying some of the plants observed: while to Mr. RUDLER, of the
Museum of Mines, I am indebted for a careful classification of the
various specimens of rocks and minerals collected in the country.
Lastly, the reader will share in my gratitude to Mr. ZWECKER, whose able
pencil has created, out of rough outlines sketched in a pocket-book, the
vivid and faithful illustrations which bring before his eyes the scenery
and incidents of life in Patagonia.
G. C. M.
_September 1, 1871._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
FROM THE STRAITS TO SANTA CRUZ.
PAGE
Journey Planned. -- Preparations. -- Passage from Stanley. -- The
Straits. -- First Footsteps in Patagonia. -- The Narrows. --
Punta Arenas. -- Commandante Viel. -- The Colony. -- The Town.
-- Chilotes and Convicts. -- Resources. -- Visit to the Coal
Bed. -- Lieut. Gallegos. -- The Start. -- Rio Chaunco. -- The
Patagonian Pampas. -- Our Party. -- Cabecera del Mar. -- Oazy
Harbour. -- A useless Chase. -- A Fireless Night. -- Volcanic
Hills. -- Pampa Yarns. -- Rio Gallegos. -- First Indians. --
Sam Slick. -- Rio Cuheyli. -- Meeting with Tehuelches. --
Caravan of Women. -- 'Anglish' Politeness. -- Desert. -- Santa
Cruz at last 1
CHAPTER II.
SANTA CRUZ.
Introduction to Chiefs. -- Orkeke. -- Chilian Deserters. -- The
Settlement. -- Island of Pabon. -- Natural Advantages. -- The
Mission Station. -- Mr. Clarke. -- Our Circle at Pabon. --
Expedition to Lake Viedma. -- Winter Occupations. -- Work and
Play. -- Casimiro's Adventures. -- His Character. -- A Winter
Hunting Excursion. -- A Pampa Snow-storm. -- The Santa Cruz
Valley. -- Up the River. -- The Northern Hills. -- Pumas. --
Devil's Eyes. -- Hunting on Foot. -- Intense Cold. -- Return of
the Deserters. -- Visit to the Indian Camp. -- First Night in a
Toldo. -- Towing a Horse. -- Adieu to Santa Cruz 33
CHAPTER III.
THE RIO CHICO.
Breaking up of the Camp. -- An Idle Day. -- A Rash Start. -- A
Dilemma. -- Alone on the Pampa. -- Reunion. -- The Kau or
Toldo. -- The Domestic Interior. -- The Indian Tribes. -- Three
Races. -- Order of the March. -- The Hunt. -- Indian Game Law.
-- Tehuelche Cookery. -- Basaltic Hills. -- An Indian Festival.
-- My First Tehuelche Ball. -- Mrs. Orkeke's Spill. -- Fording
Rio Chico. -- A Battle. -- Death of Cuastro. -- Dangerous
Times. -- Chilian Conspiracy. -- Obsidian Plain and Pass. --
First Ostrich Eggs. -- Amakaken. -- Lifting the Boulder. -- The
Devil's Country. -- God's Hill. -- Condors and Dinner. --
Sunrise on the Cordillera. -- The Plague Herald. -- Gelgel Aik.
-- Escape from Matrimony. -- Tele. -- Eyes of the Desert. --
Preparations for War. -- Another Fight. -- Water Tigers. --
Indian Bravoes. -- Iron Ores. -- Ship Rock. -- Perch Fishing.
-- Appley-kaik. -- Casimiro's Escape. -- Arrival at Henno 62
CHAPTER IV.
HENNOKAIK TO TECKEL.
Ceremonial of Welcome. -- Hinchel's Indians. -- Tehuelches
and Araucanos. -- Jackechan and the Chupat Tribe. -- My
Examination. -- Encampment at Henno. -- Peaceful Occupations.
-- The Oldest Inhabitant. -- Chiriq. -- The Hidden Cities. --
Modern Legends. -- Mysteries of the Cordillera. -- Los Cesares.
-- La Ciudad Encantada. -- Its Whereabouts. -- The Indian
Cesares. -- The Guanaco. -- The Patagonian Ostrich. --
Neighbourhood of Chiriq. -- Horseracing. -- Indian Horses. --
Indian Dogs. -- Dog and Lover. -- Plaiting Sinews. -- Windy
Hill. -- Surrounded by Fire. -- Young Guanaco. -- Arrival of
Grog. -- News from Santa Cruz. -- Gisk. -- Romantic Scenery. --
A Pleasant Neighbourhood. -- Fairy Glen. -- Breaking a Horse.
-- Female Curiosity. -- The Wild Cattle Country. -- The Forests
of the Cordillera. -- The Watershed. -- Among the Mountains. --
Wild Flowers. -- A Bull Fight. -- The Bull Victorious. -- No
Christmas Beef. -- Teckel. -- Change of Quarters 108
CHAPTER V.
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE TEHUELCHES.
Patagonian Giants. -- A Long Walk. -- Strength and Good Humour.
-- Heads of Hair. -- Tehuelche Coquettes. -- Dress of Men and
Women. -- Ornaments and Cosmetics. -- Toilette and Bath. --
Arms and Implements. -- Ancient Bolas and Arrows. -- Saddles
and Bridles. -- Silversmiths. -- Manufacture of Mantles. --
Women's Work. -- Diet and Cookery. -- Smoking. -- Card Playing.
-- Game of Ball. -- Ceremonies at Birth. -- Childhood. --
Marriage. -- Funeral Rites. -- Religion. -- Demons and Doctors.
-- Witchcraft and Omens. -- Medical Skill. -- Population and
Politics. -- Etiquette. -- Tehuelche Character. -- Natural
Affection. -- Advice to Travellers 157
CHAPTER VI.
TECKEL TO GEYLUM.
Casimiro's Household. -- Carge-kaik. -- Quintuhual's Son. --
Woolkein. -- Partridges. -- Meeting with the Araucanians. --
The Cacique Quintuhual. -- Esgel-kaik. -- Araucanian Belles. --
Communication with Chupat Colony. -- Diplaik. -- Calficura's
Declaration of War. -- Tehuelches learn Fishing. -- My Indian
Relatives. -- Woodland Rambles. -- An Indian Paradise. -- The
Upper Chupat. -- Cushamon. -- Losing Horses. -- Official
Functions. -- Message from Las Manzanas. -- Blessing the
Liquor. -- Casimiro Intoxicated. -- Foyel's Encampment. --
Great Parlemento. -- Foyel's Ideas. -- Gatchen-kaik. -- Arrival
at Geylum 189
CHAPTER VII.
LAS MANZANAS.
Catching a Thief. -- Miss Foyel. -- Start for Las Manzanas. --
First View of the Apple Groves. -- Omens of War. -- Inacayal's
Tolderia. -- Crossing the Rio Limay. -- Mr. Cox's Shipwreck. --
Lenketrou's Raid. -- A Night of Alarm. -- Bravery of my
Cousins. -- The Great Cheoeque. -- A Mounted Parlemento. --
Apples and Pinones. -- Graviel's Madness. -- Las Manzanas. --
Cheoeque's Palace. -- The Revels. -- Feuds between the Chiefs.
-- The Picunches and the Passes to Valdivia. -- Trading and
Politics. -- Resolutions of Peace. -- A Grand Banquet. -- Power
of Cheoeque. -- Araucanian Customs. -- Farewell Presents. --
Invitation to Return. -- Orkeke's Generosity. -- Return to
Geylum. -- Outbreak of an Epidemic. -- My Pretty Page. --
Departure from Geylum 218
CHAPTER VIII.
GEYLUM TO PATAGONES.
A Sick Camp. -- Oerroe Volcanic Hill. -- Crime's Deathbed. --
Graviel's Promotion. -- The Burning Ground. -- Hot Springs. --
Fighting the Gualichu. -- A Real Fight. -- A Soda Lake. --
Encampment at Telck. -- The Doctor comes to Grief. -- An
Obliging Ostrich. -- Appointed Chasqui. -- Miseries of Pampa
Life. -- A Bad Time. -- The Plains of Margensho. -- Casimiro's
Distrust. -- Doctor and Sick Child. -- Duties of a Messenger.
-- Departure of the Chasquis. -- Travelling Express. -- The
Paved Pampas. -- An Ideal Bandit. -- Letter from the Chupat
Colony. -- Trinita. -- Teneforo's Pampas. -- Champayo's
Generosity. -- A Morning Drink. -- Departure from Trinita. --
Valchita. -- The Pig's-Road. -- Wild Horses. -- The Travesia.
-- Limit of the Patagonian Fauna and Flora. -- First View of
the Rio <DW64>. -- Sauce Blanco. -- The Guardia. -- San Xaviel.
-- Approach to Patagones. -- Senor Murga. -- Welsh Hospitality.
-- Among Friends at Last 247
CHAPTER IX.
THE RIO <DW64> SETTLEMENTS.
Patagones, or Carmen Old Town. -- The Fort and Buildings. -- The
Southern Town. -- The English Mission. -- Elements of the
Population. -- The <DW64>s. -- The Convicts. -- Lawless State
of Society. -- The Cemetery. -- Early History of the Colony. --
A Successful Stratagem. -- Villarino's Ascent of the River. --
Expedition of Rosas. -- The Island of Choelechel. -- La Guardia
Chica. -- Estancia of Messrs. Kincaid. -- Ancient Indian
Graves. -- Flint Weapons. -- The Shepherd and Pumas. --
Estancia San Andre. -- The Indians and the Colonists. --
Calficura's Raid. -- Indian Method of Attack. -- The Tame
Indians. -- View of the Valley. -- Trade of Patagones. --
Fertility of the Soil. -- Rio <DW64> Wine. -- The Sportsman. --
Advice to Emigrants. -- Interview with Col. Murga. -- The
Government Grants to Chiefs. -- Casimiro again. -- The
Tehuelches in Town. -- Farewell. -- The Welsh Utopia. -- Social
Life at Patagones. -- The Steamer at Last. -- Aground. -- The
Pilot. -- Pat Sweeny. -- Adieu to Patagonia 288
APPENDIX.
A.--A partial Vocabulary of the Tsoneca Language as spoken by the
Northern Tehuelches 319
B.--Testimony of successive Voyagers to the Stature of the
Patagonians 323
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
WAKI KILLING A PUMA _Frontispiece_
MAP OF PATAGONIA _at the end_
STATION ON PABON ISLAND, RIO SANTA CRUZ _to face p._ 37
HUNTING GUANACO AND OSTRICH, VALLEY OF RIO CHICO _p._ 64
START FROM THE CAMP AT MOWAISH, OR WINDOW HILL 75
CEREMONY OF WELCOME (TEHUELCHES AND ARAUCANIANS) 110
A WILD BULL IN THE CORDILLERA 151
SKETCH MAP FROM RIO SENGEL TO TECKEL 156
TEHUELCHE ARMS AND IMPLEMENTS 164
THE PRETTY HOUSE AND DANCE 175
CROSSING THE RIO LIMAY 223
INTRODUCTION.
Three hundred and fifty years ago the great navigator Magellan anchored
in a port on the eastern coast of an unknown shore, part of the seaboard
of the vast continent of South America, to which he gave the name of St.
Julian. Starting from this point, the pilot Serrano explored the coast
to the southward, and discovered a river, which he named Santa Cruz. His
ship was wrecked near the mouth, and left her timbers on the rocks, the
first of the long list of vessels lost on that ironbound coast which,
from the mouth of the Rio <DW64> to the Straits, offers but one or two
safe harbours, while submerged reefs, fierce gales, strong tides,
currents, and overfalls combine to render it nearly the most perilous
known to navigators.
Magellan remained at Port St. Julian and Santa Cruz from April till
October of 1520, when he sailed southward, and discovered the Straits
which bear his name. Two months after his arrival at Port St. Julian a
man of gigantic stature appeared on the beach, 'larger and taller than
the stoutest man of Castile.' Eighteen natives afterwards arrived,
dressed in cloaks of skins and shoes of guanaco hide, which made huge
footmarks, whence they were called Patagones, or 'large feet,' by the
Spaniards; and thus originated in a nickname the name of the country,
Patagonia. These men used bows and arrows, and had with them four young
guanacos, with which they decoyed the wild ones within shot. Two young
men were treacherously seized and carried off, howling and calling on
their god Setebos. The natives naturally resented this return for their
ready friendliness, and, attacking a party sent after them, killed one
Spaniard with their arrows. Enough, however, was seen of them to furnish
Pigafetta with some details. 'Their tents were light movable frames,
covered with skins; their faces were painted; they were very swift of
foot, had tools of sharp-edged flints, and ate their meat nearly raw.'
That the first knowledge of Patagonia was diffused in England by
Pigafetta's narrative is suggested by Caliban's lines in the 'Tempest:'
'he could command my dam's god Setebos;' but it was not till 1578 that
the newly-discovered country was visited by Englishmen.
Sir Francis Drake in that year anchored in Seal Bay--probably a little
to the south of Port Desire--and saw several Indians. His chaplain
narrates their method of stalking the ostriches: 'They have a plume of
ostrich feathers on a long staff, large enough to hide a man behind, and
with this they stalk the ostriches.' He further says: 'They would have
none of our company until such time as they were warranted by their God
"Settaboth." They never cut their hair, which they make a store-house
for all the things they carry about--a quiver for arrows, a sheath for
knives, a case for toothpicks, a box for fire sticks, and what not; they
are fond of dancing with rattles round their waists; they have clean,
comely, and strong bodies, are swift of foot, very active, a goodly and
lively people. Magellan was not altogether wrong in naming them giants,
yet they are not taller than some Englishmen.' Drake next visited Port
St. Julian; and, curiously enough, as Magellan had in this place put to
death two and marooned a third of his captains who mutinied, so this
harbour was the scene of the execution of Mr. Doughty, who chose rather
to be beheaded than to be put on shore. The ensuing year Sarmiento was
despatched from Callao to examine the Straits in search of the daring
Englishman. He saw natives who chased their game on horseback, and
brought it down with bolas. But fifty years had elapsed since horses had
been imported by the Spaniards of the Rio de la Plata, and already the
Indians in the far south had become horsemen, and would seem to have
exchanged their bows and arrows for the bolas.
In 1581 Sarmiento was sent from Spain with 2,500 men in twenty-three
ships, to found new colonies in the Straits, and established a
settlement, leaving 400 men and thirty women, furnished with eight
months' provisions. On his way home his ship was captured by the
English, and the unhappy colonists were altogether forgotten and
neglected by their Government.
Five years after, Thomas Cavendish anchored in a bay to the south of St.
Julian, called by him Port Desire, which perpetuates the name of his
little craft of 120 tons. Here the natives attacked his men with bows
and arrows. Visiting the Straits, he arrived at the settlement, and
found only twelve men and three women surviving, the rest having
perished of slow starvation and disease; and the name of the place,
Port Famine, conferred by him, still recalls the miserable fate of
these ill-fated colonists.
On his next voyage, in 1591, Cavendish died; but John Davis twice
visited Port Desire, and explored the river for twenty miles. During his
stay some 1,000 natives visited the strangers, and Knyvet describes them
as being fifteen or sixteen span high.
Passing over the visits of Van Noort and Schouten, in the reign of
Charles the Second Sir John Narborough took possession of the country
near Port Desire in the name of the King. But few natives were seen, and
the mate, Mr. Wood, boastingly declared that he himself was taller than
any of them.
In the eighteenth century Byron and Wallis successively visited the
shores of Patagonia, and made friends with the natives, whose height
was found to be from 5 feet 10 inches to 6 feet, while some were nearly
7 feet high.
In 1774 the Jesuit Father Falkner published his work on Patagonia,
containing all the information procured by himself and the other Jesuit
missionaries who had attempted to obtain a footing on the western and
northern boundaries. His account of the Tehuelches, or Tsoneca Indians,
was evidently derived from personal communication with them, although
his knowledge of the topography of their country seems to have been
procured from the reports of others. By this work, which produced a
great sensation, the jealous fears of the Spanish Government were
aroused, and they hastened to despatch an expedition to form settlements
on the coast of Patagonia.
Of the brothers Viedma, who were sent in command, Francisco founded
Carmen at the mouth of the Rio <DW64>, and Antonio, after first fixing
on Port Desire, determined finally on Port St. Julian as the site
of another colony. He thence undertook the first exploration of the
interior in search of timber for building, in the course of which he
reached the great lake at the foot of the Cordillera, from which flowed
the Rio Santa Cruz. Both on the coast and in the interior he received
much friendly aid from the Indians, of whom he formed a most favourable
opinion.
Under his brother's auspices the Rio <DW64> was ascended as far as the
mountains by Villarino, to whose expedition reference will be made in
the proper place.
No further knowledge was gained of the interior of Patagonia until the
survey of the Beagle, so ably performed and so admirably described by
Fitzroy and Darwin; during which the ascent of the Santa Cruz river for
200 miles enabled the latter to observe the remarkable formations which
he has so aptly described in his work on the Geology of South America.
This brief but perhaps tedious account has been given to show that
although the coasts of Patagonia had been explored and surveyed, yet
the interior of the country, though pierced by the expeditions of Viedma
and Fitzroy, remained up to a late date still almost unknown. Its
inhabitants, the Tehuelches, had been often communicated with, their
stature noted, and their friendly disposition commended; but their
real manners of life as they wandered through the country, and their
relations with, or difference from, the Araucanian and Pampa Indians,
had remained almost as much a mystery as they were in the last century.
During the last thirty years the Governments of Chili and of Buenos
Ayres have shown themselves inclined to claim the possession of the
coast, the former trying to advance from the Straits, and the latter
from Patagones; and the natives have acknowledged the influence of
either Government as they happened to be in the northern or southern
parts respectively. Our missionaries also have not left the Patagonians
without some efforts to instruct and evangelise them; and although these
efforts have been necessarily limited to the coast, yet the fruits of
Mr. Schmid's sojourn with the Tehuelches remain both in their friendly
feelings and in the lasting record of the vocabulary of the Tsoneca
language published by him. And the intercourse of these Indians with
Argentines and Chilians, and more especially with English officers,
sealers, and missionaries successively, all of whom have testified
favourably to their character, has tended to make them more open to
access, and to give them a knowledge of foreigners; so that in this
respect I can feel that to all those who have been mentioned as having
thus preceded me, this brief record is due from a traveller who has
experienced the friendly feelings of the natives towards strangers, and
especially Englishmen.
While engaged in preparing the ensuing pages for the press, I have had
an opportunity of perusing the work of M. Guinnard, first published
in French, and recently given to the English public in a spirited
translation, entitled 'Three Years' Slavery among the Patagonians.' The
name necessarily attracted me, but to my great surprise careful perusal
led to the distinct conviction that the author's personal experiences
were altogether confined to the Pampas Indians north of the Rio <DW64>.
From his own statements and omissions it is quite evident that he was
not carried by any of his successive masters across this river, which he
clearly and accurately defines to be (p. 40) the northern boundary of
Patagonia. The name of Patagonians is, therefore, a complete misnomer;
and the curious account (pp. 72-3) of the 'Tcheouelches,' or Foot
Nomads, clothed in seal skins and accustomed to live on fish, and
literally destitute of horses, is applicable to no tribe whatever east
of the Cordillera, the Fuegians being the only race presenting any of
the characteristic habits attributed to this so-called Patagonian tribe.
I hope I may not be supposed to be desirous of impeaching the accuracy
of M. Guinnard's account of the hardships endured in his captivity, or
of the customs of the Indians into whose hands he fell, much of which I
can corroborate; but it is to be regretted that he was induced, probably
by others, to describe under the name of Patagonians, the Pampas
Indians, who, by country, race, language, and character, are marked as
being altogether distinct from the Tehuelches of Patagonia.
AT HOME
WITH
THE PATAGONIANS.
CHAPTER I.
FROM THE STRAITS TO SANTA CRUZ.
Journey Planned. -- Preparations. -- Passage from Stanley. -- The
Straits. -- First Footsteps in Patagonia. -- The Narrows. --
Punta Arenas. -- Commandante Viel. -- The Colony. -- The Town.
-- Chilotes and Convicts. -- Resources. -- Visit to the Coal
Bed. -- Lieut. Gallegos. -- The Start. -- Rio Chaunco. -- The
Patagonian Pampas. -- Our Party. -- Cabecera del Mar. -- Oazy
Harbour. -- A useless Chase. -- A Fireless Night. -- Volcanic
Hills. -- Pampa Yarns. -- Rio Gallegos. -- First Indians. --
Sam Slick. -- Rio Cuheyli. -- Meeting with Tehuelches. --
Caravan of Women. -- 'Anglish' Politeness. -- Desert. -- Santa
Cruz at last.
In April 1869 chance took me to our remote colony of the Falkland
Islands, with the purpose of taking thence a passage to Buenos Ayres to
arrange some business matters. During my stay in the settlement, the
coast of Patagonia, in the survey of which H.M.S. Nassau was then
engaged, formed a frequent topic of conversation. I had formerly, when
stationed on the south-east coast of America, read with delight Mr.
Darwin's work on South America, as well as Fitzroy's admirable Narrative
of the Voyage of the Beagle, and had ever since entertained a strong
desire to penetrate if possible the little-known interior of the
country. Now, at length, a favourable opportunity seemed to have arrived
for carrying out the cherished scheme of traversing the country from
Punta Arena to the Rio <DW64>, Valdivia, or even to Buenos Ayres. The
accounts given me of the Tehuelche character and of the glorious
excitement of the chase after the guanaco, graphically described by a
seaman, Sam Bonner, who had been much on the coast and had resided at
the Santa Cruz station, made me more than ever anxious to prosecute this
plan; and, having a tolerable acquaintance with Spanish, which language
many of the Indians know well, it seemed to me possible to safely
traverse the country in company with some one or other of their
wandering parties. Accordingly I bestirred myself to obtain information
as to the best way of getting such an introduction to the Indians
as would probably secure their consent; to which end most material
assistance was afforded by Mr. Dean, of Stanley, who kindly provided
me with letters of introduction to Captain Luiz Piedra Buena, an
intelligent Argentine well known in Stanley, the owner of a schooner, in
which he worked the seal fisheries on the coast, and also of a trading
station at the Middle Island, on the Santa Cruz river. Mr. Dean was of
opinion that I should be almost certain to meet with Don Luiz in the
Straits of Magellan, and that he would willingly exert his influence
with the Indians to enable me to carry out my plan of travel. I was
furthermore provided with letters of credit to the firm of Messrs.
Aguirre & Murga, at Patagones, or, as it is most commonly called at
Stanley, the Rio <DW64>.
Thus armed with credentials, and equipped with a guanaco skin mantle,
lazo and bolas, I availed myself of the offer of a passage to the
Straits made by an old friend who was bound to the westward coast.
In the first week of April we sailed from Stanley, and, after a
boisterous passage of eleven days, anchored in Possession Bay, just
within the entrance of the Straits, to wait for the turn of the tide, as
the extreme velocity with which the tides ebb and flow through these
channels renders it impossible for any vessel not possessed of great
steam power to proceed except the tide is favourable. Our first view of
the Straits did not impress me favourably. On either hand the shores
looked bleak and barren, though far away to the south and west the
mountains of Tierra del Fuego could be distinctly seen. As we anchored
early in the afternoon, a descent on the coast of Patagonia was
proposed, and a party speedily volunteered--well provided with guns
and other arms, for the purposes of sport and self-defence in case of
necessity--and were soon in the boat. As the tide was out, the shoal
water did not permit us to reach the shore, so we had to wade some two
or three hundred yards over beds of sharp-edged mussels, and, after a
climb up the steep cliff, found ourselves on the verge of a barren plain
which seemed perfectly destitute of life.
After a tramp of some distance we came to the edge of a gully running
down to the coast, where finding the torn carcase of a guanaco, we
stopped to examine what was to most of us an unknown animal; and
our speculations as to the curious hybrid form of the odd-looking
'camel-sheep' were put an end to by the discovery close by of the fresh
footprints of a puma. These were eagerly tracked, in the hopes of a
little entertainment; but after some tedious searching we abandoned
the pursuit, and again resuming our excursion, tramped along through
high, coarse grass, and sparsely scattered thorny bushes; some of the
sportsmen varying the monotony by an occasional shot at a snipe. The
day was very genial, the warmth of the bright sunshine was tempered by
a wind just cool enough to make a walk pleasant, and the Patagonian
climate was pronounced by all hands to be agreeable. Whilst we were
beating a rough bit of ground, to our utter amazement and delight our
friend the puma jumped out of a bush; but the first surprise was so
great, that the opportunity of giving him a long shot was lost. Away
we all started in chase, hoping to be able to keep him in sight from
a small adjacent eminence; and after a good breather two of the party
succeeded in viewing him to somewhere near the edge of the cliffs,
mainly guided by a retriever dog, which seemed as anxious as anybody to
see what the catamount hide was made of. On arriving at the cliff, a
seaman observed his tracks on the soft clay of the shelving brow, and
soon proclaimed his discovery of the puma in a hole or small cave just
below, by the exclamation of 'There he is!' at the same time thrusting
the stick he had been beating with nearly into the mouth of the 'lion | 2,296.362117 |
2023-11-16 18:55:20.4348350 | 6,166 | 33 |
Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available by The Internet Archive)
Every attempt has been made to replicate the original as printed.
Some typographical errors have been corrected; a list follows the
text. Archaic spellings (i. e. visiters, wo, scissars, apalling,
recal, mattrass, etc.) have been retained.
A few misspellings in French and German have not been corrected.
The footnotes have been moved to the end of the text body.
TOUR
IN
ENGLAND, IRELAND, AND FRANCE,
IN
THE YEARS 1826, 1827, 1828, AND 1829.
WITH REMARKS ON
THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE INHABITANTS, AND ANECDOTES OF
DISTINGUISHED PUBLIC CHARACTERS.
IN A SERIES OF LETTERS.
BY A GERMAN PRINCE.
PHILADELPHIA:
CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD, CHESTNUT STREET.
1833.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
TO THE
FIRST AND SECOND VOLS. OF THE LONDON EDITION
The following work being the genuine expression of the thoughts and
feelings excited by this country in the mind of a foreigner whose
station, education, and intelligence seem to promise no common degree of
aptitude for the difficult task of appreciating England, it has been
thought worth while to give it to the English public. The Translator is
perfectly aware that the author has been led, or has fallen, into some
errors both of fact and inference. These he has not thought it expedient
to correct. Every candid traveller will pronounce such errors
inevitable; for from what class in any country is perfectly accurate and
impartial information to be obtained? And in a country so divided by
party and sectarian hostilities and prejudices as England, how must this
difficulty be increased! The book is therefore given unaltered; except
that some few omissions have been made of facts and anecdotes, either
familiar to us, though new to Germans, or trivial in themselves.
Opinions have been retained throughout, without the least attempt at
change or colouring. That on some important subjects they are not those
of the mass of Englishmen, will, it is presumed, astonish no reflecting
man. They bear strong marks of that _individuality_ which characterizes
modes of thinking in Germany, where men are no more accustomed to claim
the right of thinking for others, than to renounce that of thinking for
themselves. This characteristic of the German mind stands in strong
contrast to the sectarian division of opinion in England. The sentiments
of the author are therefore to be regarded simply as his own, and not as
a sample of those of any sect or class in Germany: still less are they
proposed for adoption or imitation here. The opinion he pronounces on
French and German philosophy is, for example by no means in accordance
with the popular sentiment of his country.
The Letters, as will be seen from the Preface, were published as the
work of a deceased person. They have excited great attention in
Germany; and rumour has ascribed them to Prince Pückler Muskau, a
subject of Prussia, who is known to have travelled in England and
Ireland about the period at which these Letters were written. He has
even been mentioned as the author in the Berlin newspapers. As, however,
he has not thought fit to accept the authorship, we have no right to fix
it upon him; though the public voice of Germany has perhaps sufficiently
established his claim to it. At all events, the Letters contain
allusions to his rank, which fully justify us in ascribing them to _a
German Prince_. They likewise furnish internal evidence of his being a
man not only accustomed to the society of his equals, but conversant
with the world under various aspects, and with literature and art: of
fertile imagination; of unfettered and intrepid understanding; and
accustomed to consider every subject in a large, tolerant, and original
manner.
The author of the '_Briefe eines Verstorbenen_,' be he who he may, has
had the honour and happiness of drawing forth a critique from the pen of
Göthe. None but those incapable of estimating the unapproachable
literary merits of that illustrious man, will be surprised that the
Translator should be desirous of giving the authority of so potential a
voice to the book which it has been his difficult task to render into
English.
The following extracts from Göthe's article in the _Berliner Jahrbuch_
will do more to recommend the work than all that could be added here:--
"The writer appears a perfect and experienced man of the world,
endowed with talents, and with a quick apprehension; formed by a
varied social existence, by travel and extensive connections;
likewise a thorough, liberal-minded German, versed in literature
and art.
* * * "He is also a good companion even in not the best company,
and yet without ever losing his own dignity. * * *
"Descriptions of natural scenery form the chief part of the
Letters; but of these materials he avails himself with admirable
skill. England, Wales, and especially Ireland, are drawn in a
masterly manner. We can hardly believe but that he wrote the
description with the object immediately before his eyes. As he
carefully committed to paper the events of every day at its close,
the impressions are most distinct and lively. His vivacity and
quick sense of enjoyment enable him to depict the most monotonous
scenery with perfect individual variety. It is only from his
pictorial talent that the ruined abbeys and castles, the bare rocks
and scarcely pervious moors of Ireland, become remarkable or
endurable:--poverty and careless gaiety, opulence and absurdity,
would repel us at every step. The hunting parties, the drinking
bouts, which succeed each other in an unbroken series, are
tolerable because he can tolerate them. We feel, as with a beloved
travelling companion, that we cannot bear to leave him, even where
the surrounding circumstances are least inviting; for he has the
art of amusing and exhilarating himself and us. Before it sets, the
sun once more breaks through the parted clouds, and gives to our
astonished view an unexpected world of light and shadow, colour and
contrast.
"His remarks on natural scenery, which he views with the eye of an
artist, and his successive and yet cursive description of his
route, are truly admirable.
"After leading us as patient companions of his pilgrimage, he
introduces us into distinguished society. He visits the famous
O'Connell in his remote and scarcely accessible residence, and
works out the picture which we had formed to ourselves from
previous descriptions of this wonderful man. He next attends
popular meetings, and hears speeches from O'Connell, Shiel, and
other remarkable persons. He takes the interest of a man of
humanity and sense in the great question which agitates Ireland;
but has too clear an insight into all the complicated
considerations it involves to be carried away by exaggerated hopes.
* * *
"The great charm, however, which attaches us to his side, consists
in the moral manifestations of his nature which run through the
book: his clear understanding and simple natural manners render him
highly interesting. We are agreeably affected by the sight of a
right-minded and kind-hearted man, who describes with charming
frankness the conflict between will and accomplishment.
"We represent him to ourselves as of dignified and prepossessing
exterior. He knows how instantly to place himself on an equality
with high and low, and to be welcome to all. That he excites the
attention of women is natural enough,--he attracts and is
attracted; but his experience of the world enables him to terminate
any little _affaires du coeur_ without violence or indecorum.
"The journey was undertaken very recently, and brings us the latest
intelligence from the countries which he viewed with an acute,
clear, and comprehensive eye.
"He gradually affords us a clue to his own character. We see before
us a finely constituted being, endowed with great capacity; born to
great external advantages and felicities; but in whom a lively
spirit of enterprise is not united to constancy and perseverance;
whence he experiences frequent failure and disappointment. But this
very defect gives him that peculiar genial aimlessness, which to
the reader is the charm of his travels. * * *
"His descriptions are equally good in the various regions for which
talents of such different kinds are required. The wildest and the
loveliest scenes of nature; buildings, and works of art; incidents
of every kind; individual character and social groups,--all are
treated with the same clear perception, the same easy unaffected
grace. * * *
"The peculiarities of English manners and habits are drawn vividly
and distinctly, and without exaggeration. We acquire a lively idea
of that wonderful combination, that luxuriant growth,--of that
insular life which is based in boundless wealth and civil freedom,
in universal monotony and manifold diversity; formal and
capricious, active and torpid, energetic and dull, comfortable and
tedious, the envy and the derision of the world.
"Like other unprejudiced travellers of modern times, our author is
not very much enchanted with the English form of existence: his
cordial and sincere admiration are often accompanied by unsparing
censure. * * *
"He is by no means inclined to favour the faults and weaknesses of
the English; and in these cases he has the greatest and best among
them--those whose reputation is universal--on his side."--GÖTHE.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
TO THE
THIRD AND FOURTH VOLS. OF THE LONDON EDITION.
Since it has been suggested that I ought not to suffer several glaring,
though (as I think) unimportant, errors to pass unnoticed, as if I were
not aware of them, I mention the most conspicuous. The Author says the
Royal Exchange was built by Charles II.; that the piece of water at
Blenheim covers eight hundred acres, whereas I am told it covers only
two hundred and fifty;--he calls the great Warwick Beauchamp, and not
Neville:--alluding to Sir Walter Scott's 'Kenilworth,' he calls Varney,
Vernon; and he lays the scene of Varney's murder of his wife at
Kenilworth, instead of at Cumnor.--There may be more such mistakes for
aught I know. Such are to be found in every account of a foreign country
I have ever seen, with the exception of some two or three works of
faultless correctness and veracity, which nobody reads. Of these Carsten
Niebuhr's may be taken as a representative. Whoever has had the good
fortune to see a work on Germany, which was considerably accredited
here, commented with marginal notes by an intelligent and veracious
German, may have had a fair opportunity of comparing the sum of
misstatements between the two countries. Of our 'natural enemies' I say
nothing, nor of our irritable child, whom so much has been done to
irritate, across the Atlantic. Of Italian travellers, Eustace is given
up as nearly a romance-writer; Englishmen believe Forsyth to be
extremely correct, but instructed Italians point out errors grosser than
any of those here noticed. After all, errors of the kind are (except to
tourists) comparatively unimportant, when they relate to countries which
are not explored with a view to science, but merely for the purpose of
giving the general aspect, moral and physical, of the country. Whoever
succeeds in doing that with anything like fairness, may be regarded as
having effected as much as the extreme difficulty of obtaining accurate
information, even on the spot, will admit; and, in a work like the
present, which makes no pretension to any higher character than that of
chit-chat letters to an intimate friend, will have accomplished all that
it is fair to look for.
It has also been suggested that I ought to have given the names of the
persons alluded to at length, instead of merely copying the initials
given in the original. To this I can only reply, that had I the
inclination, I am totally without the power. I know nothing of any of
the persons or incidents recorded; nor have I any means, which are not
equally at the command of all my readers, of guessing to whom the Author
alludes in any case. Inquiries of the kind are as foreign to my tastes
and pursuits as the society in question is from my station in life. I
have regarded these incidents solely in the light of illustrations of
national manners; and the applying them to individuals is a matter in
which I should take not the slightest interest. But since it is obvious
that this is not the common taste, I have rather thought to obscure than
to elucidate those parts of the book which are objectionably personal.
If I could have done this still more, without entirely changing the
character of the work, I should have done it. But by any such material
change I should have made myself, in some sort, responsible for its
contents: which, as a mere translator, I can in no way be held to be.
Whenever I find that the English public are likely to receive, with any
degree of favour, such a German work as it would be my greatest pride
and pleasure to render into my native tongue to the best of my ability,
I shall be too happy to share with the illustrious and humanizing poets
and philosophers of Germany any censure, as I should feel it the highest
honour to partake in the minutest portion of their glory.
* * * * *
Hitherto I have found no encouragement to hope that any such work as I
should care to identify myself with, would find readers.
* * * * *
The Reviews and other Journals (which, for the most part, have been
divided between excessive praise, and censure equally excessive, of this
slight but clever work) have, of course, not been sparing in allusions
to the personal character of the Author. Of that, and of all that
concerns his residence here, I am utterly ignorant. When I projected the
translation of the book, I believed it to be, what the title announces,
_The Letters of a deceased Person_. All that I now know of the Author's
personal history while in England, (if information from such sources may
be called knowledge,) is gained from the writings of his reviewers.
Whether their representations be true or false, I have not the slightest
interest in discussing. Even if every several anecdote related by him
were a lie, it would remain to be considered, whether or not his remarks
on England and English society tallied in the main with those of other
instructed foreigners, and with those of the more impartial and
enlightened portion of Englishmen.
PREFACE OF THE EDITOR.
The Letters which we now lay before the public have this
peculiarity,--that, with very few and unimportant exceptions, they were
actually written at the moment as they appear in these pages.
It may, therefore, easily be imagined that they were written without the
most distant view to publicity. The writer, however, is now numbered
with the departed. Many scruples are thus removed: and as his Letters
contain not only many interesting details, but more especially internal
evidence of a real individuality; as they are written with no less
uncoloured freedom than perfect impartiality,--we thought that these
elements are not so abundant in our literature as to render such a work
a superfluity.
It was, I must confess, an infelicity which attended the deceased author
during life, that he set about everything in a manner different from
that pursued by other men; from which cause few things succeeded with
him. Many of his acquaintances thought that he affected originality. In
that they did him injustice. No man was ever more sincere and genuine in
his singularities; none, perhaps, had less the appearance of being so.
No man was more natural, in cases where everybody thought they saw
design.
This untoward fate still, in a certain degree, pursues the appearance of
his Letters. Various circumstances, which cannot be explained here,
compel us, contrary to all usage, to begin with the last two volumes,
which the public must accept as the first. Should these meet with
approbation, we hope soon to be able to publish that _preceding sequel_
which will be found no less independent than these. For the convenience
of the reader, we have annexed a short table of contents, as well as
occasional notes, _ad modum Minellii_; for which we beg pardon and
indulgence.
_B----, October 30, 1829._
CONTENTS.
LETTER I.
Departure. Madame de Sevigne. Dresden. Homoeopathic disposition. The art
of travelling comfortably. Reminiscences of youth. Weimar. Grand Duke's
library. The Court. The park. Dinner at Court. Duke Bernhard. Anecdote.
Visit to Göthe. A day in the Belvedere. Late Queen of Wurtemberg.
Granby. English abroad and at home......1
LETTER II.
Gotha. Old friends. Eisenach. The wedding. Hasty flights. The banks of
the Ruhr. Wesel. Fatherlandish sandbanks. Beautiful gardens of Holland.
Foreign air of the country. Culture. Utrecht. The cathedral at Gouda.
Houses built aslant. Fantastic windmills. Rotterdam. The civil banker.
Pasteboard roofs. The golden gondola. Ætna. The lovely girl. L'adieu de
Voltaire......9
LETTER III.
The passage. The planter. The English custom-house. The lost purse.
Macadamized roads. Improvements of London. Specimens of bad taste.
National taste. The Regent's Park. Waterloo bridge. London Hotels. The
bazaars. Walks in the streets. Shops. Dinner at the ---- Ambassador's.
Johannisberg. Chiswick. Decline of taste in the science of gardening.
Favourable climate. The menagerie. Life in the City. The universal
genius. The exchange and Bank. The gold cellar. Court of justice of the
Lord Mayor. Garroway's Coffee-house. Rothschild. Nero. Exeter 'Change.
Wurtemberg diplomacy. Theatre in the Strand. The ingenious man. Too much
for money. Hampton Court. Dangerous fumigation......14
LETTER IV.
Climate. British Museum. Its guards. Strange _Mischmasch_. Journey to
Newmarket. English scenery. Life there. The races. The betting-post.
Visit in the country. English hospitality. The Dandy. Englishmen on the
continent. National customs. Order of dinner. Hot-houses. Audley end.
The Aviary. Short Grove. Sale of Land in England......23
LETTER V.
Advice to travellers. Clubs. Virtue and Umbrellas. Arrangement of Maps.
English wine. How an Englishman sits. Comfortable customs. Rules of
behaviour. Treatment of Servants. The higher classes. Rules of play.
Pious wishes for Germany. Good-breeding of a Viscount. The actor Liston.
Madame Vestris. 'Manger et digerer.' Sentimental effusion. Inconvenient
Newspapers. Drury-lane. Braham the everlasting Jew. Miss Paton.
Vulgarity of the theatre. Coarseness of an English audience......34
LETTER VI.
Barrel organs. Punch. His biography. Ruined Houses. The King in
Parliament. Contrast. George the Fourth. The Opera. Figaro without
Singers. English melodies. Charles Kemble. Costume of old times. Prince
E----. A diplomatic 'bon mot.' Sir L---- M----. Practical Philosophy.
Falstaff as he is and as he should be. The King in Hamlet. The
intelligent actor from Newfoundland. Little circle in the great world.
How the day passes here. Learning languages. The author of Anastasius.
His antique furniture. Oberon. The chorus of rocks. Presentation to the
King. Incidents at the levee. Dinner with Mr. R----. Real piety. His
fashionable friends. State carriage of the King of the Birmans. Mathews
at home......44
LETTER VII.
The auctioneer. The Napoleonist. French theatre. A rout. Lady Charlotte
B----. Politics and conversation. English Aristocracy. The foggy sun of
England. Extraordinary testamentary dispositions. Modern knights of St.
John. Sion House. Richmond. Adelphi. Admirable drunkard. Alexander Von
Humboldt. King of Prussia. The Diorama......58
LETTER VIII.
Journey of business. Gothic and Italian villa. Stanmore Priory. English
country inns. Breakfast. Cashiobury Park. Tasteful magnificence.
Drawings by Denon. Flower-Gardens. Ashridge. Modern Gothic. Woburn
Abbey......64
LETTER IX.
Warwick Castle. Feudal Grandeur. The baronial hall. Portraits. Joan of
Arragon. Machiavelli. Leamington. Guy's Cliff. His cave. Gaveston's
cross. Tombs of Warwick and Leicester. The ruins of Kenilworth.
Elizabeth's balcony. The past. Birmingham. Mr. Thomasson's manufactory.
Aston Hall. Cromwell. Chester. The town prison. The rogue's fête......70
LETTER X.
Hawkestone Park. Uncommonly beautiful scenery. The red castle and New
Zealander's hut. More manufactories. Dangerous employment. The room in
which Shakspeare was born. His grave. Various parks. The Judith of
Cigoli. Blenheim. Vandalism. Pictures. Oxford. Its Gothic aspect. The
Sovereigns as Doctors. The Museum. Tradescant and his bird Dodo. The
blue dung-beetle in the character of a knight. Elizabeth's riding
gaiters, and her lover's locks of hair. The library. Manuscripts. Stowe.
Overloading. Louis the Eighteenth's lime trees. Valuables behind a
grating. Decoration for Don Juan. Portrait of Shakspeare. Ninon de
l'Enclos. Balustrade. Christmas pantomimes......81
LETTER XI.
Conversational talents of the French. Death of the Duke of York.
Adventure at his house. English mourning. Excerpts from my journal. Lady
Morgan's Salvator Rosa. 'What is conscience?' Cosmorama. Skating on the
Serpentine. The blacking-manufacturer's'sporting match.' Visit to C----
Hall. Life there. Lord D----'s recollections of M----. Pictures. The
most beautiful woman. The Park......97
LETTER XII.
Brighton. Sunset. Oriental baths. 'Gourmandise' and heroism. Count
F----. Ride on the sea-shore. Almack's ball. English notions of
precedence. The romantic Scot. Sermon and priests. Duties of a clergy.
The windmill. Party at Count F----'s. Highland Costume. Private balls.
Wanderings of the garden Odysseus. Innocent politics......107
LETTER XIII.
Beggar's eloquence. Tea-kettle pantomime and jugglers. Dream
Superstition. The fancy ball. Miss F----. Mrs. F----. Remarks on
society, 'Nobodies.' Pleasures of a ball. Pictures in the clouds. The
French Physician. Amateur Concerts. Chinese feet. Italian Opera. Hyde
Park. English horsemanship......117
LETTER XIV.
Technicalities of English Society. 'Bonne chere.' Captain Parry and his
ship. The Guards' mess. Play. 'Le Moyen age.' Monkeys and Poneys. 'Le
Grand Seigneur dentiste.' Lady Hester Stanhope in Syria. Adam still
alive. Tippoo Saib's shawl. Homeward flight. Lord Mayor's dinner. Lord
H----'s and the Banker's houses. Inaccessibleness of Englishmen. Persian
Charge d'affaires. Courtesy of the English princes. Ride in the
suburbs......123
LETTER XV.
Correspondence. Lord Mayor's feast. Speeches. Caricatures. Dangers of a
fog. English society. Middle classes. Critical position of the
Aristocracy. Freedom of the press. Newspaper extracts. Dinner at Mr.
Canning's. Concert. Easy manners. Liston. The Areopagus. Rev. R. Taylor.
Almack's. Rapid travelling. Prince Schw----. House of Commons; Messrs.
Peel, Brougham, Canning. House of Lords; Duke of Wellington, Lords
Goderich, Holland, Lansdowne, Grey. Value of a ticket for Almack's. Lady
Politicians. Indian Melodrame. Sir Thomas Lawrence. Portuguese eyes.
Prince Polignac. London season. Duchess of Clarence. Countess L----'s
ball. English horsewomen. Breakfast at the Duke of Devonshire's. The new
Venus. Crush of Carriages. Dinner at the Duke of Clarence's.
Fitzclarence family. English-French. Dinner at Mr. R----'s. Marchioness
of L----. Marquis of L----. Bishops' aprons. Concerts of ancient music.
Ambulating advertisements. Mr. R----. Aristocracy in Religion.
Dream......130
LETTER XVI.
Mr. Hope's collection of pictures and statues. Toilette-necessaries of a
Dandy. Ladies' conference. Style of invitations. Duke of Sussex. Major
Kepple. Ascot races. S---- Park. The charming fairy and her
country-house. Windsor Castle. Disaster. Greek boy. British cavalry.
Absence of military pedantry. Balls. Disenchantments. Horticultural
breakfast. Colossal pines. Tyrolese singers. Northumberland-house. Sir
Gore Ousley. Persian anecdotes. Flower-table. Children's balls. Art and
nature. Greenwich. Execution. Contrasts. Party at the Duchess of Kent's.
Marie Louise. King of Rome. Heat. King's-bench and Newgate prisons. The
unconscious philosopher. Vauxhall. The battle of Waterloo. Ball at Lady
L----'s. Phrenology. Mr. Deville's character of myself. Mr. Nash's
library. Dinner at the Portuguese Ambassador's. St. Giles's. Exhibition
of English pictures. Pounds and thalers. 'Excerpts'. Gossip. Visions of
the past. The Tunnel. Astley's Theatre. Parody of the Freischutz.
Bedlam. The last of the Stuarts. Funerals. Omens. Barclay's brewery.
West India docks. Amusing charlatanerie. Westminster Abbey by night.
Dinner at Sir L---- M----'s. Practical Bull. English Opera. New organ.
Miss Linwood. Solar Microscope. Panoramas. Death of Canning. 'Vivian
Grey.' St. James's Park. Respect for the public. Propensity to mischief
in the people. Exclusiveness of the great. London in autumn. Newspaper
facts......146
LETTER XVII.
Descent in a diving-bell. Obliging fire. College of Surgeons. The false
mermaid. The sagacious ourang-outang. Extraordinary recovery. The living
skeleton. Fortune. The desperate lover. Salthill. Stoke Park. Dropmore.
Windsor Castle. Eton. St. Leonard's Hill. Windsor Park. Habits of George
the Fourth. The giraffe | 2,296.454875 |
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SINISTER STREET
BY
COMPTON MACKENZIE
SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF OTHER BOOKS BY COMPTON MACKENZIE
SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF
Kensington Rhymes
_By_ COMPTON MACKENZIE
_SATURDAY REVIEW:_
"These are particularly jolly rhymes, that any really good sort of
a chap, say a fellow of about ten would like. Mr. J. R. Monsell's
pictures are exceptionally jolly too.... If we may judge by
ourselves, not only the children, but the grown-ups of the family
will be enchanted by this quite delightful and really first-rate
book."
_DAILY MAIL:_
"Among the picture-books of the season, pride of place must go to
Mr. Compton Mackenzie's 'Kensington Rhymes.' They are full of quiet
humour and delicate insight into the child-mind."
_OBSERVER:_
"Far the best rhymes of the year are 'Kensington Rhymes,' by
Compton Mackenzie, almost the best things of the kind since the
'Child's Garden of Verse.'"
_ATHENAEUM:_
"Will please children of all ages, and also contains much that will
not be read without a sympathetic smile by grown-ups possessed of a
sense of humour."
_TIMES:_
"The real gift of child poetry, sometimes almost with a
Stevensonian ring."
_OUTLOOK:_
"What Henley did for older Londoners, Mr. Compton Mackenzie and Mr.
Monsell have done for the younger generation."
_STANDARD:_
"Our hearts go out first to Mr. Compton Mackenzie's 'Kensington
Rhymes.'"
_SUNDAY TIMES:_
"Full of whimsical observation and genuine insight, 'Kensington
Rhymes' by Compton Mackenzie are certainly entertaining."
_EVENING STANDARD:_
"Something of the charm of Christina Rossetti's."
_VOTES FOR WOMEN:_
"They breathe the very conventional and stuffy air of
Kensington.... We are bound to say that the London child we tried
it on liked the book."
MARTIN SECKER, NUMBER FIVE JOHN STREET, ADELPHI
SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF
The Passion | 2,296.461692 |
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Produced by David Widger
INDEX FOR WORKS OF RUTH OGDEN
By Ruth Ogden
Compiled by David Widger
CONTENTS
## TATTINE
## COURAGE
## HIS LITTLE ROYAL HIGHNESS
## A LOYAL LITTLE RED-COAT
## A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS
## LITTLE HOMESPUN
TABLES OF CONTENTS OF VOLUMES
TATTINE A1816
by Ruth Ogden
[Mrs. Charles W. Ide]
Contents
CHAPTER I. TROUBLE NO. 1
CHAPTER II. A MAPLE-WAX MORNING
CHAPTER III. A | 2,296.5582 |
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TOLD IN THE HILLS
A NOVEL
BY MARAH ELLIS RYAN
AUTHOR OF THAT GIRL MONTANA, THE BONDWOMAN, A FLOWER OF FRANCE, ETC.
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1891 By Rand McNally & Co. Chicago.
Copyright, 1905 By Rand McNally & Co. Chicago.
All Rights Reserved
(Told in the Hills)
IN ALL REVERENCE--IN ALL GRATITUDE
TO THE FRIENDS GRANTED ME BY
THE WEST
FAYETTE SPRINGS, PENN.
KOPA MESIKA--
Nika sikhs klaksta kumtucks--
Klaksta yakwa mamook elahan,
Nika mahsie--mahsie kwanesum.
M. E. R.
Thou shalt not see thy brother's ox, or his sheep, go astray.
... Thou shalt bring it unto thine own house, and it shall be
with thee until thy brother seek after it, and thou shalt
restore it to him again....
... And with all lost things of thy brother's which he hath
lost, and thou hast found, shalt thou do likewise....
In any case thou shalt deliver him the pledge again when the
sun goeth down.--Deuteronomy.
[Illustration: Mowitza forged ahead, her sturdy persistence suggesting
a realization of her own importance]
List of Illustrations
Mowitza forged ahead, her sturdy persistence suggesting a realization of
her own importance
At a sharp cut of the whip, Betty sprang forward
Cooling it to suit baby's lips, she knelt beside the squaw
TOLD IN THE HILLS
PART FIRST
THE PLEDGE
"The only one of the name who is not a gentleman"; those words were
repeated over and over by a young fellow who walked, one autumn morning,
under the shade of old trees and along a street of aristocratic houses
in old New Orleans.
He would have been handsome had it not been for the absolutely wicked
expression of his face as he muttered to himself while he walked. He
looked about twenty-five--dark and tall--so tall as to be a noticeable
man among many men, and so well proportioned, and so confidently
careless in movement as not to be ungainly--the confidence of strength.
Some <DW64>s whom he passed turned to look after him, even the whites he
met eyed him seriously. He looked like a man off a sleepless journey,
his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, and over all was a malignant
expression as of lurking devilishness.
He stopped at a house set back from the street, and half-smothered in
the shade of the trees and great creeping vines that flung out long arms
from the stone walls. There was a stately magnificence about its grand
entrance, and its massive proportions--it showed so plainly the
habitation of wealth. Evidently the ill-natured looking individual was
not a frequent visitor there, for he examined the house, and the numbers
about, with some indecision; then his eyes fell on the horse-block, in
the stone of which a name was carved. A muttered something, which was
not a blessing, issued from his lips as he read it, but with indecision
at an end he strode up the walk to the house. A question was answered by
the dubious-looking <DW54> at the door, and a message was sent somewhere
to the upper regions; then the <DW54>, looking no less puzzled, requested
the gentleman to follow him to the "Young Massa's" study. The gentleman
did so, noting with those wicked side glances of his the magnificence of
the surroundings, and stopping short before a picture of a brunette,
willowy girl that rested on an easel. The face was lovely enough to win
praise from any man, but an expression, strangely akin to that bestowed
on the carven name outside, escaped him. Through the lattice of the
window the laughter of woman came to him--as fresh and cheery as the
light of the young sun, and bits of broken sentences also--words of
banter and retort.
"Ah, but he is beautiful--your husband!" sighed a girlish voice with the
accent of France; "so impressibly charming! And so young. You two
children!"
Some gay remonstrance against childishness was returned, and then the
first voice went on:
"And the love all of one quick meeting, and one quick, grand passion
that only the priest could bring cure for? And how shy you were, and how
secret--was it not delightful? Another Juliet and her Romeo. Only it is
well your papa is not so ill-pleased."
"Why should he be? My family is no better than my husband's--only some
richer; but we never thought of that--we two. I thought of his beautiful
changeable eyes, and he thought of my black ones, and--well, I came home
to papa a wife, and my husband said only, 'I love her,' when we were
blamed for the haste and the secrecy, and papa was won--as I think every
one is, by his charming boyishness; but," with a little laugh, "he is
not a boy."
"Though he is younger than yourself?"
"Well, what then? I am twenty-three. You see we are quite an old couple,
for he is almost within a year of being as old. Come; my lord has not
yet come down. I have time to show you the roses. I am sure they are the
kind you want."
Their chatter and gaiety grew fainter as they walked away from the
window, and their playful chat added no light to the visitor's face. He
paced up and down the room with the eager restlessness of some caged
thing. A step sounded outside that brought him to a halt--a step and a
mellow voice with the sweetness of youth in it. Then the door opened and
a tall form entered swiftly, and quick words of welcome and of surprise
came from him as he held out his hand heartily.
But it was not taken. The visitor stuck his hands in the pockets of his
coat, and surveyed his host with a good deal of contempt.
Yet he was a fine, manly-looking fellow, almost as tall as his visitor,
and fairer in coloring. His hair was a warmer brown, while the other
man's was black. His eyes were frank and open, while the other's were
scowling and contracted. They looked like allegorical types of light and
darkness as they stood there, yet something in the breadth of forehead
and form of the nose gave a suggestion of likeness to their faces.
The younger one clouded indignantly as he drew back his offered hand.
"Why, look here, old fellow, what's up?" he asked hastily, and then the
indignation fled before some warmer feeling, and he went forward
impulsively, laying his hand on the other's arm.
"Just drop that," growled his visitor, "I didn't come here for that sort
of thing, but for business--yes--you can bet your money on that!"
His host laughed and dropped into a chair.
| 2,296.562531 |
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THE
SOURCE AND MODE
OF
SOLAR ENERGY
THROUGHOUT THE UNIVERSE.
BY
I. W. HEYSINGER, M.A., M.D.
ILLUSTRATED.
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
1895.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Introduction 7
CHAPTER I.
Statement of the Problem of Solar Energy 17
CHAPTER II.
The Constitution and Phenomena of the Sun 39
CHAPTER III.
The Mode of Solar Energy 70
CHAPTER IV.
The Source of Solar Energy 96
CHAPTER V.
The Distribution and Conservation of Solar Energy 139
CHAPTER VI.
The Phenomena of the Stars 162
CHAPTER VII.
Temporary Stars, Meteors, and Comets 187
CHAPTER VIII.
The Phenomena of Comets 210
CHAPTER IX.
Interpretation of Cometic Phenomena 225
CHAPTER X.
The Resolvable Nebulæ, Star-Clusters and Galaxies 237
CHAPTER XI.
The Gaseous Nebulæ 253
CHAPTER XII.
The Nebular Hypothesis: its Basis and its Difficulties 268
CHAPTER XIII.
The Genesis of Solar Systems and Galaxies 282
CHAPTER XIV.
The Mosaic Cosmogony 308
CHAPTER XV.
Conclusion. The Harmony of Nature's Laws and
Operations 341
Reference Index of Authorities Cited 349
Classified Index of Subject-Matter 353
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Figs. 1 to 8. Types from nature, illustrating development
of a solar system from the attenuated matter of
space Frontispiece.
Fig. 9. A typical sun-spot 57
Fig. 10. Structure of the sun, analytical illustration of 60
Fig. 11. Electrical polarities of sun and planets 82
Fig. 12. Ideal view of the generation and transmission of
planetary electricity 89
Fig. 13. The aurora borealis, view of 91
Fig. 14. Diffused brush discharge of an electrical machine 91
Fig. 15. Planetary generation and transmission of electrical
energy to the sun, analytical illustration of 101
Fig. 16. Gradual discharge of electricity from one conductor
to another in a partial vacuum 103
Fig. 17. Sudden electrical discharge through the atmosphere 103
Fig. 18. Position of planets with reference to the generation
of sun-spots; maximum and minimum of electrical
action 108
Fig. 19. Analysis of a typical sun-spot 112
Fig. 20. Retardation of sun-spots in their travel across the
solar face; development to the rear and recession in
front 114
Figs. 21 and 22. Complex lines of planetary electrical action
upon the sun produced by the inclination of the solar
axis to the plane of the ecliptic 120
Figs. 23 to 29. Examples of electrical repulsion: Fig. 1,
similarly electrified pith-balls; Fig. 2, the
electrical windmill; Fig. 3, repulsion of a flame;
Fig. 4, self-repulsion around a conductor; Fig. 5,
attraction between opposite and repulsion between
similar electricities; Fig. 6, mutual repulsion
between similar + electrospheres of the earth and
the moon; Fig. 7, mutual repulsion between the
similar--electrospheres of sun and comet 124
Figs. 30 to 34. Spectra of solar light, incandescent sodium
and calcium, and the absorption and bright-line
spectra of hydrogen gas 155
Figs. 35 to 37. Reversal and neutralization of spectroscopic
lines of hydrogen in the light of a variable star
like Betelgeuse 160
Fig. 38. A double-sun nebula in process of development into
a solar system 164
Fig. 39. Double stars with complementary colors,
interpretation of the phenomena of 167
Fig. 40. A solar system which would explain the regular
variability of the star Mira 178
Fig. 41. Lineal nebula in Sobieski's Crown which has been
affected by currents in the ocean of space 189
Figs. 42 to 45. Four stages in the phenomena of a new or
temporary star, a "star in flames;" reversal of the
hydrogen lines in its spectrum 196
Figs. 46 and 47. Illustration of repulsion of the tail of a
comet by the similarly electrified solar
electrosphere; comparison with similar repulsion in
a vacuum-chamber experiment 211
Figs. 48 and 49. The electroscope, and mutual electrical
repulsion in a bundle of dry straws 225
Fig. 50. Experiment with a candle and currents of air from
between two disks, illustrating the radial
semi-rotation of a comet's tail during perihelion 230
Figs. 51 to 54. Four non-systemic gaseous nebulæ: Fig. 1,
crab nebula; Fig. 2, dumb-bell nebula; Fig. 3, lineal
nebula in Sobieski's Crown; Fig. 4, Catherine-wheel
nebula. The latter illustrates the formation of a
planetary nebula with a hollow center, or else
dispersion into the elements of space again 263
Fig. 55. Great spiral nebula in Canes Venatici and a small
adjacent nebula affected thereby 273
Figs. 56 to 59. Four gaseous nebulæ in process of development
into solar systems: Fig. 1, divergent spiral; Fig. 2,
later stage of a similar spiral; Fig. 3, subsequent
stage of rupture of the nearly circular convolutions
of a similar nebula; Fig. 4, the same stage in the
development of a solar system with a double sun 279
Fig. 60. Nucleated planetary nebula, showing its external ring
split and held apart, in part of its circumference,
by electrical repulsion 288
Fig. 61. Divergent spiral nebula on cover of book.
INTRODUCTION.
This work is not presented to the reader as a treatise on astronomy,
although the different phenomena pertaining to that splendid science
are reviewed with some detail, and the established facts bearing
upon the subjects discussed are briefly cited in the very words of
the great writers upon whose authority they rest. A considerable
experience in chemistry, electricity, and the other allied physical
sciences long since convinced the author of this work that some
simple and uniform principle must control the production of the
physical phenomena of astronomy,--some general law capable of being
extended in its application to the widest, as well as applied to the
narrowest, limits of that science. Knowing the absolute certainty of
a magnetic and electrical connection between the sun and the earth,
as evidenced by the reflected energy of sun-spots, auroras, etc.,
and that no known cause except electricity could account for some,
at least, of the cometic phenomena, it seemed that any comprehensive
law must at all events include this mode of energy as an effective
cause, and that if the law be uniform in its application, it must
equally exclude all others which may be either antagonistic or not
necessary. A careful investigation was therefore made of those
less generally known principles concerned in the generation and
transformations of electrical energy, in order to determine the
sufficiency or insufficiency of this agency in the grander operations
of nature (for, of course, mere currents of electricity could play no
part in these phenomena), with the result that every line of research
led irresistibly to the conclusions presented in this work. These
investigations, specifically directed, at first, to the source and mode
of the solar energy of our own system alone, were found to be equally
applicable to others, and were successively extended to the whole
sidereal, nebular, and cometic field, and finally to space itself,
for all the phenomena of which it seemed to furnish an adequate
and harmonious interpretation. The fact, when once demonstrated,
that the true source of solar energy is not to be found in the sun
itself, but in the potential energy of space, served as a guiding
principle, and, by its continuously extended application, was found
to cover perfectly the source and mode of all solar energy. Every
step of the investigation has been based on the established facts
of science and the observations of eminent astronomers as laid down
by the best authorities; and the quotations herein made from their
works are full and fair, and are properly credited in every case,
and taken from books easily accessible to the general reader. It is
hoped that further attention may be directed to this field of research
by far more capable investigators than the author of this work, so
that systematic astronomy may no longer bear the reproach that it is
largely an empirical science, but | 2,296.565259 |
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[Illustration]
MAORI and
SETTLER
A STORY OF THE NEW ZEALAND WAR
BY G. A. HENTY
Maori and Settler
G.A. HENTY'S BOOKS
Illustrated by Eminent Artists
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LONDON: BLACKIE AND SON, LTD., 50 OLD BAILY, E.C.
[Illustration: "DROP THAT OR I FIRE!"
_Page 227_]
Maori and Settler
A STORY OF
THE NEW ZEALAND WAR
BY
G.A. HENTY
Author of "Redskin and Cowboy" "In Freedom's Cause"
"Bonnie Prince Charlie" &c.
_ILLUSTRATED_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
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_Printed in Great Britain_
PREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION
In the following story I have made no attempt to give anything like a
general history of the long struggle between the brave tribes of New
Zealand and the forces of England and the colony. That struggle lasted
over a period of some years, and to do justice to its numerous incidents
in the course of a single volume would have left no space whatever
available for the telling of a story. It was divided into two distinct
epochs. In the first the natives of the north of the islands fought for
their independence and their right to have a king, and be governed by
their own laws. Nothing could exceed the courage with which they
struggled for these ends, and it needed a very strong force of British
troops to storm their pahs or fortified camps, and overcome their
resistance. The second epoch embraces the struggle brought about by the
conversion of a portion of the tribes to the fanatical belief called the
Pai Marire (literally "good and peaceful"), whose votaries were
generally known as the Hau-Haus. During the earlier war the natives
behaved with great moderation, and there were but few cases of the
murder of outlying settlers. The slaying of all whites was, however, the
leading feature of the Hau-Hau religion, and many cold-blooded
massacres occurred during the struggle. The British troops had been for
the most part withdrawn before the commencement of the Hau-Hau troubles,
and the war was carried on by bodies of constabulary raised by the
colonists, and with the aid of tribes | 2,296.566258 |
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Transcriber's Note: The original publication has been replicated
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the text. This etext presumes a mono-spaced font on the user's device,
such as Courier New. Words in italics are indicated like _this_. Text
emphasized with bold characters or other treatment is shown like =this=.
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* * * * *
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE THOUGHT IS IN THE QUESTION THE INFORMATION IS IN THE ANSWER
HAWKINS
ELECTRICAL GUIDE
NUMBER
ONE
QUESTIONS
ANSWERS
&
ILLUSTRATIONS
A PROGRESSIVE COURSE OF STUDY
FOR ENGINEERS, ELECTRICIANS, STUDENTS
AND THOSE DESIRING TO ACQUIRE A
WORKING KNOWLEDGE OF
ELECTRICITY AND ITS APPLICATIONS
A PRACTICAL TREATISE
by
HAWKINS AND STAFF
THEO. AUDEL & CO. 72 FIFTH AVE. NEW YORK.
COPYRIGHTED, 1914,
BY
THEO. AUDEL & CO.,
NEW YORK.
Printed in the United States.
PREFACE
_The word "guide" is defined as:_
=_One who leads another in any path or direction; a person who shows or
points out the way, especially by accompanying or going before; more
particularly, one who shows strangers or tourists about; a conductor;
leader, as "let us follow our guide."_=
_This book, or ="Guide,"= is so called because it =leads= or =points out
the way= to the acquirement of a theoretical and practical knowledge of
Electricity._
_There are several guides, each covering in detail a certain phase of the
broad subject of Electricity and leading the reader progressively, and in
such a way, that he easily grasps, not only the simple fundamental facts,
but the more complex problems, encountered in the study of Electricity.
This is accomplished by the aid of a =very large number of illustrations=,
together with specific explanations, worded in =concise and simple
language=._
_The Guides are written partly in the question and answer form, as this
style of presentation has met with hearty approval, not only from those of
limited education, but also from the better informed._
_Where recourse is had to the question and answer form, the special aim of
the author has been to give short and direct answers, in such plain
language as to preclude a misconception of the meaning. With this in view,
=the answer gives= simply =the information sought by the question=._
_=The answer is limited to one paragraph= so that the reader may
concentrate upon the fact or facts demanded by the question._
_Any enlargement of the answer or specific explanations of items contained
therein, are presented in separate paragraphs printed, in smaller type._
_With this plan of =separating the answer=, as it were, from items of
secondary importance, and making it short and simple, its content is more
forcibly impressed upon the mind of the reader._
_In a text book, it is necessary to illustrate and explain the various
species of commercial apparatus met with in practice, and in this
connection the Publishers desire to call attention to the manner in which
the author has treated what may be classed as the ="descriptive matter." | 2,296.804142 |
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THE INSIDE OF THE CUP
By Winston Churchill
Volume 7.
XXIII. THE CHOICE
XXIV. THE VESTRY MEETS
XXV. "RISE, CROWNED WITH LIGHT!"
XXVI. THE CURRENT OF LIFE
CHAPTER XXIII
THE CHOICE
I
Pondering over Alison's note, he suddenly recalled and verified some
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THE ANCIENT IR | 2,296.858552 |
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Produced by Col Choat. HTML version by Al Haines.
[Updater's note: In Volume I, Chapters VIII and IX both have the same
title: "Peggy Walker's Adventures". This was confirmed with the
source book.]
Mr. Hogarth's Will
by
Catherine Helen Spence
CONTENTS
TOC here!!
Volume I.
Chapter I.
The Will
In a large and handsomely-furnished room of a somewhat old-fashioned
house, situated in a rural district in the south of Scotland, was
assembled, one day in the early summer of 185-, a small group in deep
mourning.
Mr. Hogarth, of Cross Hall, had been taken suddenly ill a few days
previously, and had never recovered consciousness so far as to be able
to speak, though he had apparently known those who were about him, and
especially the two orphan nieces whom he had brought up as his
daughters. He had no other near relations whom any one knew of, and had
never been known to regret that the name of Hogarth, of Cross Hall, was
likely to become extinct. He had the reputation of being the most
eccentric man in the country, and was thought to be the most
inconsistent.
With the highest opinion possible of women, and the greatest pleasure
in their society, he had never married; and with the greatest affection
for his nieces, and the greatest theoretical confidence in them, he had
hedged them about with countless laws and restrictions, and had
educated them in a way quite different from the training of young
ladies of their rank and prospects. He had succeeded two childless
elder brothers in the possession of the estate; and Jane and Alice
Melville were the only children of his only sister, who had been dead
for fifteen years.
The funeral had just taken place, and the two girls had been summoned
into the drawing-room to hear the will read by Mr. MacFarlane, the
Edinburgh lawyer, who had drawn it out. They found in the room Mr.
Baird, their uncle's medical attendant, and a stranger whom they had
never seen before--a tall, grave-looking man of about thirty-four,
whose mourning was new, and who showed a deep interest in what was
going on.
Both the man of law and the man of medicine looked nervous and
embarrassed, and delayed proceeding to business as long as they
possibly could; fumbling with knots of red tape; opening the closed
curtains to admit a little more light, and then closing them again, as
if the light was too strong; so that the sisters had time to look at
the stranger, and to wonder who he was and what his business could be
there. He also seemed to be taking notes of the young ladies in a
quiet, timid manner.
At last the will was opened, and after the usual preamble, the lawyer's
voice seemed to break a little. He cleared his throat, and continued in
a lower tone----
"As I have come to the conclusion that the minds of men and women are
radically the same, and as I believe that if the latter are trained in
the same way as the former they will be equally capable of making their
own way in the world, I have acted upon this principle in the education
of my two beloved nieces, Jane and Alice Melville, the only surviving
children of my sister Mary Hogarth; and as I foresee that if I were to
leave them wealthy heiresses my purpose would be completely thwarted,
by Jane losing her independent character, and Alice sinking into a
confirmed invalid, and by both being to a dead certainty picked up by
needy spendthrifts, who will waste their fortunes and break their
hearts, as their father, George Melville, served my poor foolish
sister, I hereby convey and dispose all my property, whatsoever and
wheresoever, heritable and moveable, to Francis Ormistown, otherwise
Hogarth, at present head clerk in the Bank of Scotland, who is my son
by a private irregular marriage contracted with Elizabeth Ormistown, on
the ninth day of July, 18--, and who is my heir-at-law, though he would
find it difficult to prove his claim, as he knows nothing of the
relation between us, and as the only party besides myself cognizant of
the marriage dares not come forward to prove it, but whose progress I
have watched with interest, who has made an honourable position for
himself, without any assistance from me beyond a good education, who
has served faithfully, and who is likely to rule uprightly, who has
raised himself from nameless poverty, and whom, therefore, I judge to
be worthy of wealth and honour: Provided always, that he shall pay to
Jane and Alice Melville, my beloved nieces aforesaid, the sum of twelve
pounds a year each, in quarterly payments in advance, for three years
following my decease, when such payments shall cease, as by that time I
believe they will be independent in circumstances: Provided also that
he shall give to the said Jane and Alice Melville, the furniture and
personal effects belonging to them, as mentioned more particularly in
the schedule marked A, appended to this instrument; and that he shall
give to the said Jane and Alice Melville no further assistance either
in money or in money's worth, directly or indirectly, whatsoever: Also
providing that the said Francis Ormistown, otherwise Hogarth, shall not
marry either of his cousins; the marriage of such near relations being
mischievous and improper.
"In case of any of these provisions being disregarded by the said
Francis Ormistown, otherwise Hogarth, all my heritable and moveable
property shall be divided among certain benevolent institutions, in the
order and manner set forth in the schedule marked with the letter B.
"All these provisions I have made, as being the best for my surviving
relatives; and I believe they will eventually acknowledge them to be
such."
It would be hard to say which of the three parties interested, felt
most astonishment at this extraordinary will. Jane Melville stood rigid
and silent, with her face flushed and her eyes filled with tears, which
she would not let fall. Alice's face lost all colour, and she seemed
ready to faint. But the greatest excitement was shown by the fortunate
legatee. He shook from head to foot, steadying himself on the
table--looked from the two girls to the two gentlemen with bewildered
eyes--and said at last with difficulty, in a low, soft, tremulous
voice----
"Was Mr. Hogarth in his senses when he made this will?"
"A little excited, but indisputably in full possession of his senses,
strange as the will appears," said Mr. MacFarlane, the lawyer; "and Mr.
Baird will corroborate my opinion."
Mr. Baird bowed his head affirmatively. "Quite true--his head was quite
clear at the time. The will was made six weeks ago, and you, Miss
Melville, know how well he was then. Very grieved, indeed--most
inconceivable conduct--cruel--inconsiderate. I feel deeply for your
disappointment. Try not to give way, Miss Alice--or perhaps you had
better give way, it may relieve you. Mr. MacFarlane tells me that he
remonstrated with Mr. Hogarth. Most painful duty--must obey
instructions, of course. Your uncle seemed like adamant. I pity you
with all my heart."
"And so do I, with all my heart," said Mr. MacFarlane.
"And does no one pity me?" said the low voice of the heir to all; but
it was unheeded, for Alice had fainted. Her sister and Mr. Baird laid
her on the sofa, and applied the usual restoratives.
Mr. MacFarlane began to speak in an undertone, to the new master, of
the extent and value of the property he had thus suddenly come into
possession of, and congratulated him rather stiffly on the turn of
fortune that had raised him from a life of labour and comparative
poverty to ease and affluence; but his embarrassment was nothing
compared to that of the man whom he addressed. Francis Hogarth looked
round the spacious room, and out of the window to the pleasant
shrubbery and smooth-shaven lawn, and shuddered when he thought of the
two young cousins, brought up apparently in the lap of luxury, who were
to be turned out upon the world with 12 pounds a-year for three years.
The elder sister seemed to have a vigorous and robust constitution, but
the younger looked delicate. He saw, in his mind's eye, two
governesses, dragging out a weary and monotonous existence, far from
each other, while he, possessed of superabundance, was debarred from
helping them.
He advanced timidly to the sofa. Alice, who had recovered
consciousness, covered her face with both her hands, and sobbed aloud.
Jane turned towards him a glance, not of reproach, but of pity. He felt
it, and took her hand.
"Believe me, Miss Melville, no one can regret this extraordinary will
as | 2,296.862417 |
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are listed at the end of the text.
* * * * *
{437}
NOTES AND QUER | 2,296.962237 |
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Images of the original pages are available through
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Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
The original text includes Greek characters that have been
replaced with transliterations in this text version.
The original text includes a dagger symbol that is
represented as [dagger] in this text version.
The original text includes a cross symbol that is
represented as [cross] in this text version.
The original text includes the prescription symbol that is
represented as [Rx.] in this text version.
The original text includes the section sign that is
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The original text includes the paragraph sign that is
represented as [P] in this text version.
CURIOSITIES OF OLDEN TIMES
by
S. BARING-GOULD, M.A.
Author of 'Iceland, Its Scenes and Its Sagas,' 'Mehalah,' etc.
Revised and Enlarged Edition
Edinburgh
John Grant
31 George IV. Bridge
1896
PREFACE
An antiquary lights on many a curiosity whilst overhauling the dusty tomes
of ancient writers. This little book is a small museum in which I have
preserved some of the quaintest relics which have attracted my notice
during my labours. The majority of the articles were published in 1869. I
have now added some others.
LEW TRENCHARD,
_September 1895_.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE MEANING OF MOURNING 1
CURIOSITIES OF CYPHER 17
STRANGE WILLS 39
QUEER CULPRITS 57
GHOSTS IN COURT 74
STRANGE PAINS AND PENALTIES 89
WHAT ARE WOMEN MADE OF? 102
"FLAGELLUM SALUTIS" 119
"HERMIPPUS REDIVIVUS" 135
THE BARONESS DE BEAUSOLEIL 153
SOME CRAZY SAINTS 167
THE JACKASS OF VANVRES 207
A MYSTERIOUS VALE 217
KING ROBERT OF SICILY 237
SORTES SACRAE 256
CHIAPA CHOCOLATE 268
THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE 280
CURIOSITIES OF OLDEN TIMES
THE MEANING OF MOURNING
A strip of black cloth an inch and a half in width stitched round the
sleeve--that is the final, or perhaps penultimate expression (for it may
dwindle further to a black thread) of the usage of wearing mourning on the
decease of a relative.
The usage is one that commends itself to us as an outward and visible sign
of the inward sentiment of bereavement, and not one in ten thousand who
adopt mourning has any idea that it ever possessed a signification of
another sort. And yet the correlations of general custom--of mourning
fashions, lead us to the inexorable conclusion that in its inception the
practice had quite a different signification from that now attributed to
it, nay more, that it is solely because its primitive meaning has been
absolutely forgotten, and an entirely novel significance given to it, that
mourning is still employed after a death.
Look back through the telescope of anthropology at our primitive ancestors
in their naked savagery, and we see them daub themselves with soot mingled
with tallow. When the savage assumed clothes and became a civilised man,
he replaced the fat and lampblack with black cloth, and this black cloth
has descended to us in the nineteenth century as the customary and
intelligible trappings of woe.
The Chinaman when in a condition of bereavement assumes white garments,
and we may be pretty certain that his barbarous ancestor, like the Andaman
Islander of the present day, pipeclayed his naked body after the decease
and funeral of a relative. In Egypt yellow was the symbol of sorrow for a
death, and that points back to the ancestral nude Egyptian having smeared
himself with yellow ochre.
Black was not the universal hue of mourning in Europe. In Castile white
obtained on the death of its princes. Herrera states that the last time
white was thus employed was in 1498, on the death of Prince John. This use
of white in Castile indicates chalk or pipeclay as the daub affected by
the ancestors of the house of Castile in primeval time as a badge of
bereavement.
Various explanations have been offered to account for the variance of
colour. White has been supposed to denote purity; and to this day white
gloves and hat-bands and scarves are employed at the funeral of a young
girl, as in the old ballad of "The Bride's Burial":--
A garland fresh and fair
Of lilies there was made,
In signs of her virginity,
And on her coffin laid.
Six pretty maidens, _all in white_,
Did bear her to the ground,
The bells did ring in solemn swing
And made a doleful sound.
Yellow has been supposed to symbolise that death is the end of human
hopes, because falling leaves are sere; black is taken as the privation of
light; and purple or violet also affected as a blending of joy with
sorrow. Christian moralists have declaimed against black as heathen, as
denoting an aspect of death devoid of hope, and gradually purple is taking
its place in the trappings of the hearse, if not of the mourners, and the
pall is now very generally violet.
But these explanations are afterthoughts, and an attempt to give reason
for the divergence of usage which might satisfy, but these are really no
explanations at all. The usage goes back to a period when there were no
such refinements of thought. If violet or purple has been traditional, it
is so merely because the ancestral Briton stained himself with woad on the
death of a relative.
The pipeclay, lampblack, yellow ochre, and woad of the primeval mourners
must be brought into range with a whole series of other mourning usages,
and then the result is something of an "eye-opener." It reveals a
condition of mind and an aspect of death that causes not a little
surprise and amusement. It is one of the most astonishing, and, perhaps,
shocking traits of barbarous life, that death revolutionises completely
the feelings of the survivors towards their deceased husbands, wives,
parents, and other relatives.
A married couple may have been sincerely attached to each other so long as
the vital spark was twinkling, but the moment it is extinguished the dead
partner becomes, not a sadly sweet reminiscence, but an object of the
liveliest terror to the survivor. He or she does everything that ingenuity
can suggest to get him or herself out of all association in body and
spirit with the late lamented. Death is held to be thoroughly demoralising
to the deceased. However exemplary a person he or she may have been in
life, after death the ghost is little less than a plaguing, spiteful
spirit.
There is in the savage no tender clinging to the remembrance of the loved
one, he is translated into a terrible bugbear, who must be evaded and
avoided by every contrivance conceivable. This is due, doubtless, mainly
to the inability of the uncultivated mind to discriminate between what is
seen waking from what presents itself in phantasy to the dreaming head.
After a funeral, it is natural enough for the mourners to dream of the
dead, and they at once conclude that they have been visited by his
_revenant_. After a funeral feast, a great gorging of pork or beef, it is
very natural that the sense of oppression and pain felt should be
associated with the dear departed, and should translate itself into the
idea that he has come from his grave to sit on the chests of those who
have bewailed him.
Moreover, the savage associates the idea of desolation, death, discomfort,
with the condition of the soul after death, and believes that the ghosts
do all they can to return to their former haunts and associates for the
sake of the warmth and food, the shelter of the huts, and the
entertainment of the society of their fellows. But the living men and
women are not at all eager to receive the ghosts into the family circle,
and they accordingly adopt all kinds of "dodges," expedients to prevent
the departed from making these irksome and undesired visits.
The Venerable Bede tells us that Laurence, Archbishop of Canterbury,
resolved on flying from England because he was hopeless of effecting any
good under the successor of Ethelbert, king of Kent. The night before he
fled he slept on the floor of the church, and dreamed that St. Peter
cudgelled him soundly for resolving to abandon his sacred charge. In the
morning he awoke stiff and full of aches and pains. Turned into modern
language, we should say that Archbishop Laurence was attacked with
rheumatism on account of his having slept on the cold stones of the
church. His mind had been troubled before he went to sleep with doubts
whether he were doing right in abandoning his duty, and very naturally
this trouble of conscience his dream, and gave to his rheumatic
twinges the complexion it assumed.
Now Archbishop Laurence regarded the Prince of the Apostles in precisely
the light in which a savage views his deceased relatives and ancestors. He
associates his maladies, his pains, with theirs, if he should happen to
dream of them. If, however, when in pain, he dreams of a living person,
then he holds that this living person has cast a magical spell over him.
Among nature's men, before they have gone through the mill of
civilisation, plenty to eat and to drink, and some one to talk to, are the
essentials of happiness. They see that the dead have none of these
requisites, they consider that they are miserable without them. The writer
remembers how, when he was a boy, and attended a funeral of a relative in
November, he could not sleep all night--a bitter, frosty night--with the
thought how cold it must be to the dead in the vault, without blankets,
hot bottle, or fire. It was in vain for him to reason against the feeling;
the feeling was so strong on him that he was conscious of an uncomfortable
expectation of the dead coming to claim a share of the blanket, fire, or
hot bottle. Now the savage never reasons against such a feeling, and he
assumes that the dead will return, as a matter of course, for what he
cannot have in the grave.
The ghost is very anxious to assert its former rights. A widow has to get
rid of the ghost of her first husband before she can marry again. In
Parma a widow about to be remarried is pelted with sticks and stones, not
in the least because the Parmans object to remarriage, but in order to
scare away the ghost of No. 1, who is hanging about his wife, and who will
resent his displacement in her affections by No. 2.
To the present day, in some of the villages of the ancient Duchy of Teck,
in Wuertemberg, it is customary when a corpse is being conveyed to the
cemetery, for relatives and friends to surround the dead, and in turn talk
to it--assure it what a blessed rest it is going to, how anxious the
kinsfolk are that it may be comfortable, how handsome will be the cross
set over the grave, how much all desire that it may sleep soundly and not
by any means leave the grave and come haunting old scenes and friends, how
unreasonable such conduct as the latter hinted at would be, how it would
alter the regard entertained for the deceased, how disrespectful to the
Almighty who gives rest to the good, and how it would be regarded as an
admission of an uneasy conscience. Lively comparisons are drawn between
the joys of Paradise and the vale of tears that has been quitted, so as to
take away from the deceased all desire to return.
This is a survival of primitive usage and mode of thought, and has its
analogies in many places and among diverse races.
The Dacotah Indians address the ghost of the dead in the same "soft
solder," to induce it to take the road to the world of spirits and not to
come sauntering back to its wigwam. In Siam and in China it is much the
same; persuasion, flattery, threats are employed.
Unhappily all ghosts are not open to persuasion, and see through the
designs of the mourners, and with them severer measures have to be
resorted to. Among the Sclavs of the Danube and the Czechs, the bereaved,
after the funeral, on going home turn themselves about after every few
steps and throw sticks, stones, mud, even hot coals in the direction of
the churchyard, so as to frighten the spirit back to the grave so
considerately provided for it. A Finnish tribe has not even the decency to
wait till the corpse is covered with soil; they fire pistols and guns
after it as it goes to its grave, and lies in it.
In _Hamlet_, at the funeral of Ophelia, the priest says--
For charitable prayers,
Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her.
Unquestionably it must have been customary in England thus to pelt a ghost
that was suspected of the intention to wander. The stake driven through
the suicide's body was a summary and complete way of ensuring that the
ghost would not be troublesome.
Those Finns who fired guns after a dead man had another expedient for
holding him fast, and that was to nail him down in his coffin. The Arabs
tie his legs together. The Wallacks drive a long nail through the skull;
and this usage explains the many skulls that have been exhumed in Germany
thus perforated. The Icelanders, when a ghost proved troublesome, opened
the grave, cut off the dead man's head, and made the body sit on it. That,
they concluded, would effectually puzzle it how to get about. The
Californian Indians were wont to break the spine of the corpse so as to
paralyse his lower limbs, and make "walking" impossible. Spirit and body
to the unreasoning mind are intimately associated. A hurt done to the body
wounds the soul. Mrs. Crowe, in her _Night Side of Nature_, tells a story
reversing this. A gentleman in Germany was dying--he expressed great
desire to see his son, who was a ne'er-do-well, and was squandering his
money in Paris. At that same time the young man was sitting on a bench in
the Bois de Boulogne, with a switch in his hand. Suddenly he saw his old
father before him. Convinced that he saw a phantom, he raised his switch,
and cut the apparition once, twice, and thrice across the face; and it
vanished. At that moment the dying father uttered a scream, and held his
hands to his face--"My boy! my boy! He is striking me again--again!" and
he died. The Algonquin Indians beat the walls of the death-chamber to
drive out the ghost; in Sumatra, a priest is employed with a broom to
sweep the ghost out. In Scotland, and in North Germany, the chairs on
which a coffin has rested are reversed, lest the dead man should take the
fancy to sit on them instead of going to his grave. In ancient Mexico,
certain professional ghost ejectors were employed, who, after a funeral,
were invited to visit and thoroughly explore the house whence the dead had
been removed, and if they found the ghost lurking about, in corners, in
cupboards, under beds--anywhere, to kick it out. In Siberia, after forty
days' "law" given to the ghost, if it be still found loafing about, the
Schaman is sent for, who drums it out. He extorts brandy, which he
professes to require, as he has to conduct the deceased personally to the
land of spirits, where he will make it and the other guests so fuddled
that they will forget the way back to earth.
In North Germany a troublesome ghost is bagged, and the bag emptied in
some lone spot, or in the garden of a neighbour against whom a grudge is
entertained.
Another mode of getting rid of the spirit of the dear departed is to
confuse it as to its way home. This is done in various ways. Sometimes the
road by which it has been carried to its resting-place is swept to efface
the footprints, and a false track is made into a wood or on to a moor, so
that the ghost may take the wrong road. Sometimes ashes are strewn on the
road to hide the footprints. Sometimes the dead is carried rapidly three
or four times round the house so as to make him giddy, and not know in
which direction he is carried. The universal practice of closing the eyes
of the dead may be thought to have originated in the desire that he might
be prevented from seeing his way.
In many places it was, and is, customary for the dead body to be taken out
of the house, not through the door, but by a hole knocked in the wall for
the purpose, and backwards. In Iceland in the historic period this custom
was reserved for such as died in their seats and not in their beds. One or
two instances occur in the Sagas. In Corea, blinders made of black silk
are put on the dead man's eyes, to prevent him from finding his way home.
Many savage nations entirely abandon a hut or a camp in which a death has
occurred for precisely the same reason--of throwing out the dead man's
spirit.
It was a common practice in England till quite recently for the room in
which a death had occurred to be closed for some time, and this is merely
a survival of the custom of abandoning the place where a spirit has left
the body. The Esquimaux take out their dying relatives to huts constructed
of blocks of ice or snow, and leave them there to expire, for ghosts are
as stupid as they are troublesome, they have no more wits than a peacock,
they can only find their way to the place where they died.
Other usages are to divert a stream and bring the corpse in the river-bed,
or lay it beyond running water, which according to ghost-lore it cannot
pass. Or again, fires are lighted across its path, and it shrinks from
passing through flames. As for water, ghosts loathe it. Among the Matamba
<DW64>s a widow is flung into the water and dipped repeatedly so as to
wash off the ghost of the dead husband, which is supposed to be clinging
to her. In New Zealand, among the Maoris, all who have followed the corpse
dive into water so as to throw off the ghost which is sneaking home after
them. In Tahiti, all who have assisted at a burial run as hard as they can
to the sea and take headers into it for the same object. It is the same in
New Guinea. We see the same idea reduced to a mere form in ancient Rome,
where in place of the dive through water, a vessel of water was carried
twice round those who had followed the corpse, and they were sprinkled.
The custom of washing and purification after a funeral practised by the
Jews is a reminiscence of the usage, with a novel explanation given to it.
In the South Pacific, in the Hervey Islands, after a death men turn out to
pummel and fight the returning spirit, and give it a good drubbing in the
air.
Now, perhaps, the reader may have been brought to understand what the
sundry mourning costumes originally meant. They were disguises whereby to
deceive the ghosts, so that they might not recognise and pester with
their undesired attentions the relatives who live. Indians who are wont to
paint themselves habitually, go after a funeral totally unbedecked with
colour. On the other hand, other savages daub themselves fantastically
with various colours, making themselves as unlike what they were
previously as is possible. The Coreans when in mourning assume hats with
low rims that conceal their features.
The Papuans conceal themselves under extinguishers made of banana leaves.
Elsewhere in New Guinea they envelop themselves in a wickerwork frame in
which they can hardly walk. Among the Mpongues of Western Africa, those
who on ordinary occasions wear garments walk in complete nudity when
suffering bereavement. Valerius Maximus tells us that among the Lycians it
was customary in mourning for the men to disguise themselves in women's
garments.
The custom of cutting the hair short, and of scratching and disfiguring
the face, and of rending the garments, all originated from the same
thought--to make the survivors irrecognisable by the ghost of the
deceased. Plutarch asserts that the Sacae, after a death, went down into
pits and hid themselves for days from the light of the sun. Australian
widows near the north-west bend of the Murray shave their heads and
plaster them with pipeclay, which, when dry, forms a close-fitting
skull-cap. The spirit of the late lamented on returning to his better
half either does not recognise his spouse, or is so disgusted with her
appearance that he leaves her for ever.
There is almost no end to the expedients adopted for getting rid of the
dead. Piles of stones are heaped over them, they are buried deep in the
earth, they are walled up in natural caves, they are enclosed in
megalithic structures, they are burned, they are sunk in the sea. They are
threatened, they are cajoled, they are hoodwinked. Every sort of trickery
is had recourse to, to throw them off the scent of home and of their
living relations.
The wives, horses, dogs slain and buried with them, the copious supplies
of food and drink laid on their graves, are bribes to induce them to be
content with their situation. Nay, further--in very many places no food
may be eaten in the house of mourning for many days after an interment.
The object of course is to disappoint the returning spirit, which comes
seeking a meal, finds none, comes again next day, finds none again, and
after a while desists from returning out of sheer disgust.
A vast amount of misdirected ingenuity is expended in bamboozling and
bullying the unhappy ghosts; but the feature most striking in these
proceedings is the unanimous agreement in considering these ghosts as such
imbeciles. When they put off their outward husk, they divest themselves of
all that cunning which is the form that intelligence takes in the savage.
Not only so, but although they remember and crave after home comforts,
they absolutely forget the tricks they had themselves played on the souls
of the dead in their own lifetime; they walk and blunder into the traps
which they had themselves laid for other ghosts in the days of their
flesh.
Perhaps the lowest abyss of dunder-headedness they have been supposed to
reach is when made to mistake their own identity. Recently near Mentone a
series of prehistoric interments in caves have been exposed. They reveal
the dead men as having had their heads daubed over with red oxide of iron.
Still extant races of savages paint, plaster, and disfigure their dead.
The prehistoric Greeks masked them. The Aztecs masked their deceased
kings, and the Siamese do so still. We cannot say with absolute certainty
what the object is--but we are probably not far out when we conjecture the
purpose to be to make the dead forget who they are when they look at their
reflection in the water. There was a favourite song sung some sixty years
ago relative to a little old woman who got "muzzy." Whilst in this
condition some naughty boys cut her skirts at her knees. When she woke up
and saw her condition, "Lawk!" said the little old woman, "this never is
me!" And certain ancient peoples treated their dead in something the same
way; they disguised and disfigured them so that each ghost waking up
might exclaim, "Lawk! this never is me!" And so having lost its identity,
did not consider it had a right to revisit its old home and molest its old
acquaintances.
CURIOSITIES OF CYPHER
In 1680, when M. de Louvois was French Minister of War, he summoned before
him one day a gentleman named Chamilly, and gave him the following
instructions:
"Start this evening for Basle, in Switzerland; you will reach it in three
days; on the fourth, punctually at two o'clock, station yourself on the
bridge over the Rhine, with a portfolio, ink, and a pen. Watch all that
takes place, and make a memorandum of every particular. Continue doing so
for two hours; have a carriage and post-horses awaiting you;, and at four
precisely mount, and travel night and day till you reach Paris. On the
instant of your arrival, hasten to me with your notes."
De Chamilly obeyed; he reached Basle, and on the day and at the hour
appointed, stationed himself, pen in hand, on the bridge. Presently a
market-cart drives by; then an old woman with a basket of fruit passes;
anon, a little urchin trundles his hoop by; next an old gentleman in blue
top-coat jogs past on his gray mare. Three o'clock chimes from the
cathedral tower. Just at the last stroke, a tall fellow in yellow
waistcoat and breeches saunters up, goes to the middle of the bridge,
lounges over, and looks at the water; then he takes a step back and
strikes three hearty blows on the footway with his staff. Down goes every
detail in De Chamilly's book. At last the hour of release sounds, and he
jumps into his carriage. Shortly before midnight, after two days of
ceaseless travelling, De Chamilly presented himself before the minister,
feeling rather ashamed at having such trifles to record. M. de Louvois
took the portfolio with eagerness, and glanced over the notes. As his eye
caught the mention of the yellow-breeched man, a gleam of joy flashed
across his countenance. He rushed to the king, roused him from sleep,
spoke in private with him for a few moments, and then four couriers who
had been held in readiness since five on the preceding evening were
despatched with haste. Eight days after, the town of Strasbourg was
entirely surrounded by French troops, and summoned to surrender: it
capitulated and threw open its gates on the 30th of September 1681.
Evidently the three strokes of the stick given by the fellow in yellow
costume, at an appointed hour, were the signal of the success of an
intrigue concerted between M. de Louvois and the magistrates of
Strasbourg, and the man who executed this mission was as ignorant of the
motive as was M. de Chamilly of the motive of his.
Now this is a specimen of the safest of all secret communications, but it
can only be resorted to on certain rare occasions. When a lengthy despatch
is required to be forwarded, and when such means as those given above are
out of the question, some other method must be employed. Herodotus gives
us a story to the point: it is found also, with variations, in Aulus
Gellius.
"Histiaeus, when he was anxious to give Aristagoras orders to revolt, could
find but one safe way, as the roads were guarded, of making his wishes
known: which was by taking the trustiest of his slaves, shaving all the
hair from off his head, and then pricking letters upon the skin, and
waiting till the hair grew again. This accordingly he did; and as soon as
ever the hair was grown, he despatched the man to Miletus, giving him no
other message than this: 'When thou art come to Miletus, bid Aristagoras
shave thy head, and look thereon.' Now the marks on the head were a
command to revolt."--Bk. v. 35.
In this case no cypher was employed; we shall come, now, to the use of
cyphers.
When a despatch or communication runs great risk of falling into the hands
of an enemy, it is necessary that its contents should be so veiled, that
the possession of the document may afford him no information whatever.
Julius Caesar and Augustus used cyphers, but they were of the utmost
simplicity, as they consisted merely in placing D in the place of A; E in
that of B, and so on; or else in writing B for A, C for B, etc.
Secret characters were used at the Council of Nicaea; and Rabanus Maurus,
Abbot of Fulda and Archbishop of Mayence in the ninth century, has left us
an example of two cyphers, the key to which was discovered by the
Benedictines. It is only a wonder that any one could have failed to
unravel them at the first glance. This is a specimen of the first:
.Nc.p.t v:rs:.:s B::n.f:c.. :rch. gl::r.::s.q:.:: m:rt.r.s
The secret of this is that the vowels have been suppressed and their
places filled by dots,--one for i, two for a, three for e, four for o, and
five for u. In the second example, the same sentence would run--Knckpkt
vfrsxs Bpnkfbckk, etc., the vowel-places being filled by the
consonants--b, f, k, p, x. By changing every letter in the alphabet, we
make a vast improvement on this last; thus, for instance, supplying the
place of a with z, b with x, c with v, and so on. This is the system
employed by an advertiser in a provincial paper which I took up the other
day in the waiting-room of a station, where it had been left by a farmer.
As I had some minutes to spare, before the train was due, I spent them in
deciphering the following:
Jp Sjddjzb rza rzdd ci sijmr, Bziw rzdd xr ndzt:
and in ten minutes I read: "If William can call or write, Mary will be
glad."
A correspondence was carried on in the _Times_ during May 1862 in cypher.
I give it along with the explanation.
Wws.--Zy Efpdolj T dpye l wpeepc ez mjcyp qzc jzf--xlj T daply qfwwj
zy lww xleepcd le esp tyepcgtph? Te xlj oz rzzo. Ecfde ez xj wzgp--T
lx xtdpclmwp. Hspy xlj T rz ez Nlyepcmfcj tq | 2,296.963145 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.0343020 | 209 | 196 |
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)
_STUDIES IN HISTORY, ECONOMICS AND PUBLIC LAW._
EDITED BY
THE UNIVERSITY FACULTY OF POLITICAL SCIENCE
OF COLUMBIA COLLEGE.
Volume II.] [Number 1.
THE ECONOMICS
OF THE
RUSSIAN VILLAGE.
BY
ISAAC A. HOURWICH, PH.D.,
_Seligman Fellow in Political Science, Columbia College._
NEW YORK.
1892.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION. THE RISE OF “PEASANTISM.” 7
CHAPTER I. GENERAL SKETCH OF THE DEVELOPMENT OF LANDHOLDING IN
RUSSIA 19
The Russian village community of | 2,297.054342 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.0344680 | 1,953 | 21 |
Produced by Charles Bowen, from page images provided by the Web Archive
Page scan source:
http://ia341310.us.archive.org/3/items/cu31924026169395/
and within this file seek: cu31924026169395.pdf
BY THE AUTHOR OF "VILLA EDEN."
ON THE HEIGHTS.
Revised Edition. In one volume, with Pictorial Title. 16mo. Cloth.
Price, $2.00.
EDELWEISS.
One volume. With Pictorial Title. Square 16mo. Neat Cloth. Price,
$1.00.
GERMAN TALES.
One volume. Square 16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00.
* * * * *
-->_Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of the price, by the Publishers,_
ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.
[Illustration: "_Be patient a few minutes longer! There's a man
beckoning to go with us_," _said the boatman to his passengers_.--VILLA
EDEN, Page 1.]
VILLA EDEN:
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE.
By BERTHOLD AUERBACH.
TRANSLATED BY CHARLES C. SHACKFORD.
BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1871.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
ROBERTS BROTHERS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
THE COUNTRY-HOUSE ON THE RHINE.
A ROMANCE, BY BERTHOLD AUERBACH.
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
THE APPARITION.
"Be patient a few: minutes longer! There's a man beckoning to go with
us," said the boatman to his passengers, two women and one man. The man
was gray-haired, of slender form, rubicund face, and blue eyes of a
kindly, but absent-minded and weary expression; a heavy moustache,
wholly covering the upper lip, seemed out of keeping with this
inoffensive face. He wore a new summer suit of that fashionable
material which seems be-dashed and be-sprinkled with white, as if the
wearer had purposely rolled himself in a feather bed. He had, moreover,
a pretty wallet attached to a leather belt, and embroidered with blue
and red beads.
Opposite the man sat a tall and stately woman, with restless eyes and
sharp features, that might once have been attractive. She shook her
head, vexed at the delay, like one not accustomed to be kept waiting,
got up, and sat down again. She wore a pale-yellow silk dress, and the
white veil on her gray round hat was wound about the rim like the band
around a turban. Again she threw back her head with a quick movement,
then looked straight down before her, as if not to show any interest in
the stranger, and boring with the point of her large parasol into the
side of the boat.
Near the man sat a smiling, fair maiden, in a blue summer suit, and
holding in her hand, by the elastic string, a small blue hat ornamented
with a bird's wing. Her head was rather large and heavy, and the broad
forehead was made yet more massive by a rich abundance of braided hair;
a large curl on each side rested upon her shoulder and breast. The
girl's countenance was bright and clear as the clear day which shed its
beams over the landscape. She put on her hat, and the mother gave it a
little touch to adjust it properly. The girl exchanged quickly her
coarse leather gauntlets for delicate, glossy ones which she took out
of her pocket; and while drawing them on with great dexterity, she
looked at the new-comer.
A tall and handsome young man, with a full brown beard, a sinewy frame,
a gray shawl over his shoulder, and upon his head a broad-brimmed gray
hat with black crape, same down the steep and zigzag path with a
vigorous step to the shore. He stepped into the boat, and lifting his
hat while bowing in silence, displayed a noble white forehead shaded by
dark-brown hair. His countenance spoke courage and firmness, and, at
the same time, had an expression that awakened confidence and trust.
The girl cast down her eyes, while her mother once more fastened and
unfastened her hat-string, contriving at the same time, with seeming
carelessness, to place one long curl in front, and the other upon the
shoulder behind, so as to be becoming, and to look easy and natural.
The man in the mottled suit pressed the white head of his cane to his
lips. The stranger, seating himself apart from the others, gazed into
the stream, whilst the boat was moving rapidly through the water. They
landed at an island on which was a large convent, now a boarding-school
for girls.
"Oh, how beautiful! and are the lessons learned there?" asked the girl,
pointing to a group of lofty trees on the shore, clustered so near
together that they seemed to have grown out of one root, and with low
seats inside the grove. "Go on!" said the mother with a reproving look
to the girl, and immediately taking her husband's arm. The girl went on
before, and the stranger followed them.
In the thickets sang the nightingales, the blackbirds, and the finches,
as if they would proclaim, "Here is the peace and the rest of Paradise,
and no one disturbs us." The dark fir-trees with their sheltering
branches, and the long row of light-green larches stood motionless by
the shore, and bees hummed in the blossoming chestnut-trees. They
reached the convent. The building, without any architectural
peculiarity, had an extended prospect of the garden, the meadows on the
island, the river, and the mountains. It was shut up, and no human
being was to be seen. The old gentleman pulled the bell; a portress
opened a small window, and asked what was wanted. Admission was
demanded, but the portress replied that it could not possibly be
granted that evening. "Take in my card, and say to the good mother that
I am here with my wife and daughter," said the old gentleman. "Permit
me to add also my card," said the stranger. The three looked round,
struck by the pleasant tone of his voice. The stranger handed his card,
and added, "Please say to the worthy Lady Superior, that I bring a
message of greeting from my mother."
The portress closed the window quickly, while the four stood at the
entrance. "I took you for a Frenchman," said the old gentleman with a
kindly tone to the young man. "I am a German," he replied. "Have you
then a relative in the convent, and are you acquainted with the good
mother?" "No, I know no one here." The answers of the stranger were so
short and direct, that he gave no opportunity to continue the
conversation, and the old gentleman appeared to be a man of position
and character, who was accustomed to be addressed, and not to make
advances. He walked with the two ladies towards a beautiful flower-bed,
and placed himself with his companions upon a seat. But the girl was
restless, and walking up and down along the edge of the meadow, she
gathered the hidden violets. The young man remained standing as if
rooted to the spot, staring at the stone steps which led up to the
cloister-door, as though he must find out what various destinies had
already gone in and out over them.
Meanwhile, the old gentleman said to his wife, "That elegant young man
appears to me to be a gambler, who has lost all his means at one of the
neighboring baths. Who knows but that he wants to borrow money of the
Lady Superior?" She laughed at her husband for being disposed to see
now, for the third time during this journey, a criminal or a ruined man
in the persons they chanced to meet.
"You may be right," said the old gentleman; "but that's the mischief of
these showy, establishments, that one supposes everybody he meets has
something to do with them. Besides, just as it happened with our
daughter--"
"What happened with me?" asked the girl from the meadow. "Why,"
continued the father, "how often, when walking behind you at the baths,
have I heard people say, 'What beautiful false hair!' no one now thinks
that there is anything genuine."
The girl laughed merrily to herself, and then adding a violet to the
nosegay on her bosom, called out, "And I believe the stranger is a
poet." | 2,297.054508 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.1408160 | 153 | 14 |
Produced by David Garcia, Diane Monico, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
[Illustration: Leigh Gordon Giltner]
The Path of Dreams
_POEMS_
_BY LEIGH GORDON GILTNER_
[Illustration]
Fleming H. Revell Company
Chicago : New York : Toronto
COPYRIGHT 1900
BY LEIGH GORDON GILTNER
_TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER_
Contents
In Woodland Ways 9
Ashes of Roses 11
A Challenge 13
And Yet... | 2,297.160856 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.1408700 | 3,036 | 135 |
Produced by Paul Ereaut, Jason Isbell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
IN THE YULE-LOG GLOW
CHRISTMAS TALES FROM 'ROUND THE WORLD
"Sic as folk tell ower at a winter ingle"
_Scott_
EDITED BY
HARRISON S. MORRIS
THREE VOLUMES IN ONE.
Book II.
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 1900.
Copyright, 1891, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA.
CONTENTS OF BOOK II
CHRISTMAS WITH THE BARON
_By Angelo J. Lewis._
A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE
_By Harrison S. Morris._
SALVETTE AND BERNADOU
_From the French of Alphonse Daudet._
_By Harrison S. Morris._
THE WOLF TOWER
THE PEACE EGG
_By Juliana Horatia Ewing._
A STORY OF NUREMBERG
_By Agnes Repplier._
A PICTURE OF THE NATIVITY BY FRA FILIPPO LIPPI
_By Vernon Lee._
MELCHIOR'S DREAM
_By Juliana Horatia Ewing._
MR. GRAPEWINE'S CHRISTMAS DINNER
_By Harrison S. Morris._
ILLUSTRATIONS, BOOK II.
THE DAUGHTER OF THE BARON
THE HOSPITAL
MUMMERS
"A HILLY COUNTRY"
_A Droll Chapter by a Swiss Gossip._
"I here beheld an agreeable old
fellow, forgetting age, and showing
the way to be young at sixty-five."
_Goldsmith._
CHRISTMAS WITH THE BARON.
I.
Once upon a time--fairy tales always begin with once upon a time--once
upon a time there lived in a fine old castle on the Rhine a certain
Baron von Schrochslofsleschshoffinger. You will not find it an easy name
to pronounce; in fact, the baron never tried it himself but once, and
then he was laid up for two days afterwards; so in future we will merely
call him "the baron," for shortness, particularly as he was rather a
dumpy man.
After having heard his name, you will not be surprised when I tell you
that he was an exceedingly bad character. For a baron, he was considered
enormously rich; a hundred and fifty pounds a year would not be thought
much in this country; but still it will buy a good deal of sausage,
which, with wine grown on the estate, formed the chief sustenance of the
baron and his family.
Now, you will hardly believe that, notwithstanding he was the possessor
of this princely revenue, the baron was not satisfied, but oppressed
and ground down his unfortunate tenants to the very last penny he could
possibly squeeze out of them. In all his exactions he was seconded and
encouraged by his steward Klootz, an old rascal who took a malicious
pleasure in his master's cruelty, and who chuckled and rubbed his hands
with the greatest apparent enjoyment when any of the poor landholders
could not pay their rent, or afforded him any opportunity for
oppression.
Not content with making the poor tenants pay double value for the land
they rented, the baron was in the habit of going round every now and
then to their houses and ordering anything he took a fancy to, from a
fat pig to a pretty daughter, to be sent up to the castle. The pretty
daughter was made parlor-maid, but as she had nothing a year, and to
find herself, it wasn't what would be considered by careful mothers an
eligible situation. The fat pig became sausage, of course.
Things went on from bad to worse, till, at the time of our story,
between the alternate squeezings of the baron and his steward, the poor
tenants had very little left to squeeze out of them. The fat pigs and
pretty daughters had nearly all found their way up to the castle, and
there was little left to take.
[Illustration: The Daughter of the Baron]
The only help the poor fellows had was the baron's only daughter, Lady
Bertha, who always had a kind word, and frequently something more
substantial, for them when her father was not in the way.
Now, I'm not going to describe Bertha, for the simple reason that if I
did you would imagine that she was the fairy I'm going to tell you
about, and she isn't. However, I don't mind giving you a few outlines.
In the first place, she was exceedingly tiny,--the nicest girls, the
real lovable little pets, always are tiny,--and she had long silken
black hair, and a dear, dimpled little face full of love and mischief.
Now, then, fill up the outline with the details of the nicest and
prettiest girl you know, and you will have a slight idea of her. On
second thoughts, I don't believe you will, for your portrait wouldn't be
half good enough; however, it will be near enough for you.
Well, the baron's daughter, being all your fancy painted her and a
trifle more, was naturally much distressed at the goings-on of her
unamiable parent, and tried her best to make amends for her father's
harshness. She generally managed that a good many pounds of the sausage
should find their way back to the owners of the original pig; and when
the baron tried to squeeze the hand of the pretty parlor-maid, which he
occasionally did after dinner, Bertha had only to say, in a tone of
mild remonstrance, "Pa!" and he dropped the hand instantly and stared
very hard the other way.
Bad as this disreputable old baron was, he had a respect for the
goodness and purity of his child. Like the lion tamed by the charm of
Una's innocence, the rough old rascal seemed to lose in her presence
half his rudeness, and, though he used awful language to her sometimes
(I dare say even Una's lion roared occasionally), he was more tractable
with her than with any other living being. Her presence operated as a
moral restraint upon him, which, possibly, was the reason that he never
stayed down-stairs after dinner, but always retired to a favorite
turret, which, I regret to say, he had got so in the way of doing every
afternoon that I believe he would have felt unwell without it.
The hour of the baron's afternoon symposium was the time selected by
Bertha for her errands of charity. Once he was fairly settled down to
his second bottle, off went Bertha, with her maid beside her carrying a
basket, to bestow a meal on some of the poor tenants, among whom she was
always received with blessings.
At first these excursions had been undertaken principally from
charitable motives, and Bertha thought herself plentifully repaid in the
love and thanks of her grateful pensioners.
Of late, however, another cause had led her to take even stronger
interest in her walks, and occasionally to come in with brighter eyes
and a rosier cheek than the gratitude of the poor tenants had been wont
to produce.
The fact is, some months before the time of our story, Bertha had
noticed in her walks a young artist, who seemed to be fated to be
invariably sketching points of interest in the road she had to take.
There was one particular tree, exactly in the path which led from the
castle-gate, which he had sketched from at least four points of view,
and Bertha began to wonder what there could be so very particular about
it.
At last, just as Carl von Sempach had begun to consider where on earth
he could sketch the tree from next, and to ponder seriously upon the
feasibility of climbing up into it and taking it from _that_ point of
view, a trifling accident occurred which gave him the opportunity of
making Bertha's acquaintance,--which, I don't mind stating
confidentially, was the very thing he had been waiting for.
It so chanced that, on one particular afternoon, the maid, either
through awkwardness, or possibly through looking more at the handsome
painter than the ground she was walking on, stumbled and fell.
Of course, the basket fell, too, and equally of course, Carl, as a
gentleman, could not do less than offer his assistance in picking up the
damsel and the dinner.
The acquaintance thus commenced was not suffered to drop; and handsome
Carl and our good little Bertha were fairly over head and ears in love,
and had begun to have serious thoughts of a cottage in a wood, _et
caetera_, when their felicity was disturbed by their being accidentally
met, in one of their walks, by the baron.
Of course the baron, being himself so thorough an aristocrat, had higher
views for his daughter than marrying her to a "beggarly artist," and
accordingly he stamped, and swore, and threatened Carl with summary
punishment with all sorts of weapons, from heavy boots to blunderbusses,
if ever he ventured near the premises again.
This was unpleasant; but I fear it did not _quite_ put a stop to the
young people's interviews, though it made them less frequent and more
secret than before.
Now, I am quite aware this was not at all proper, and that no properly
regulated young lady would ever have had meetings with a young man her
papa didn't approve of.
But then it is just possible Bertha might not have been a properly
regulated young lady. I only know she was a dear little pet, worth
twenty model young ladies, and that she loved Carl very dearly.
And then consider what a dreadful old tyrant of a papa she had! My dear
girl, it's not the slightest use your looking so provokingly correct;
it's my deliberate belief that if you had been in her shoes (they'd have
been at least three sizes too small for you, but that doesn't matter)
you would have done precisely the same.
Such was the state of things on Christmas eve in the year----Stay!
fairy tales never have a year to them, so, on second thoughts, I
wouldn't tell the date if I knew,--but I don't.
Such was the state of things, however, on the particular 24th of
December to which our story refers--only, if anything, rather more so.
The baron had got up in the morning in an exceedingly bad temper; and
those about him had felt its effects all through the day.
His two favorite wolf-hounds, Lutzow and Teufel, had received so many
kicks from the baron's heavy boots that they hardly knew at which end
their tails were; and even Klootz himself scarcely dared to approach his
master.
In the middle of the day two of the principal tenants came to say that
they were unprepared with their rent, and to beg for a little delay.
The poor fellows represented that their families were starving, and
entreated for mercy; but the baron was only too glad that he had at last
found so fair an excuse for venting his ill-humor.
He loaded the unhappy defaulters with every abusive epithet he could
devise (and being called names in German is no joke, I can tell you);
and, lastly, he swore by everything he could think of that, if their
rent was not paid on the morrow, themselves and their families should be
turned out of doors to sleep on the snow, which was then many inches
deep on the ground. They still continued to beg for mercy, till the
baron became so exasperated that he determined to put them out of the
castle himself. He pursued them for that purpose as far as the outer
door, when fresh fuel was added to his anger.
Carl, who, as I have hinted, still managed, notwithstanding the paternal
prohibition, to see Bertha occasionally, and had come to wish her a
merry Christmas, chanced at this identical moment to be saying good-bye
at the door, above which, in accordance with immemorial usage, a huge
bush of mistletoe was suspended. What they were doing under it at the
moment of the baron's appearance, I never knew exactly; but his wrath
was tremendous!
I regret to say that his language was unparliamentary in the extreme.
He swore until he was mauve in the face; and if he had not
providentially been seized with a fit of coughing, and sat down in the
coal-scuttle,--mistaking it for a three-legged stool,--it is impossible
to say to what lengths his feelings might have carried him.
Carl and Bertha picked him up, rather black behind, but otherwise not
much the worse for his accident.
In fact, the diversion of his thoughts seemed to have done him good;
for, having sworn a little more, and Carl having left the castle, he
appeared rather better.
II.
After enduring so many and various emotions, it is hardly to be wondered
at that the baron required some consolation; so, after having changed
his trousers, he took himself off to his favorite turret to allay, by
copious potations, the irritations of his mind.
Bottle after bottle was emptied, and pipe after pipe was filled and
smoked. The fine old Burgundy was gradually getting into the baron's
head; and, altogether, he was beginning to feel more comfortable.
The shades of the winter afternoon had deepened into the evening
twilight, made dimmer still by the aromatic clouds that came, with
dignified deliberation, from the baron's lips, and curled and floated up
to the carved ceiling of the turret, where they spread themselves into a
dim canopy, which every successive cloud | 2,297.16091 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.1417490 | 609 | 10 |
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THE MADNESS OF MAY
by
MEREDITH NICHOLSON
With illustrations by Frederic Dorr Steele
[Illustration: "I didn't know it was _your_ moon," he said.
[_Page_ 60]]
Upon the morn they took their horses with the queen, and rode
a-maying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them.
--The Age of Chivalry.
New York
Charles Scribner's Sons
1917
Copyright, 1917, by
Charles Scribner's Sons
Published March, 1917
TO
MRS. CHARLES THOMAS KOUNTZE
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"I didn't know it was _your_ moon," he said. _Frontispiece_
"The young person left in haste, that's clear enough,"
remarked Hood. 30
"I make it a rule never to deny food to any applicant,
no matter how unworthy. You may remain." 123
"Throw up your hands, boys; it's no use!" cried Hood
in mock despair. 166
THE MADNESS OF MAY
I
Billy Deering let himself into his father's house near Radford Hills,
Westchester County, and with a nod to Briggs, who came into the hall to
take his hat and coat, began turning over the letters that lay on the
table.
"Mr. Hood has arrived, sir," the servant announced. "I put him in the
south guest-room."
Deering lifted his head with a jerk. "Hood--what Hood?"
"Mr. Hood is all I know, sir. He said he was expected--you had asked him
for the night. If there's a mistake----"
Deering reached for his hat and coat, which Briggs still held. His face
whitened, and the outstretched hand shook visibly. Briggs eyed him with
grave concern, then took a step toward the stairway.
"If you wish, sir----"
"Never mind, Briggs," Deering snapped. "It's all right. I'd forgotten I
had a guest coming; that's all."
He opened a letter with assumed carelessness and held it before his eyes
until the door closed upon Briggs. Then his jaws tightened. He struck his
hands together | 2,297.161789 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.2380830 | 5,639 | 12 |
Produced by Martin Ward
Weymouth New Testament in Modern Speech
Preface and Introductions
Third Edition 1913
Public Domain--Copy Freely
These files were produced by keying for use in the Online Bible.
Proofreading was performed by Earl Melton. The printed edition
used in creating this etext was the Kregal reprint of the Ernest
Hampden-Cook (1912) Third Edition, of the edition first published
in 1909 by J. Clarke, London. Kregal edition ISBN 0-8254-4025-4.
Due to the plans to add the Weymouth footnotes, the footnote
markers have been left in the text and page break indicators.
Other special markings are words surrounded with "*" to indicate
emphasis, and phrases surrounded with "<>" to indicate bold OT
quotes. See WEYMOUTH.INT in WNTINT.ZIP for the introduction
to the text, and information on Weymouth's techniques.
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If any errors are found, please notify me at the above bbs,
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----------- Corrections to the printed page ---------------------
Introduction says personal pronouns referring to Jesus, when spoken
by other than the author/narrator, are capitalized only when they
recognize His deity. The following oversights in the third edition
were corrected in subsequent editions. Therefore we feel justified
in correcting them in this computer version.
Mt 22:16 Capitalized 'him'. Same person speaking as in v.15.
Mt 27:54 Capitalized 'he'.
Joh 21:20 Capitalized 'his'
Heb 12:6 Capitalized last 'HE' (referring to God).
==== changes made to printed page.
Lu 11:49 Added closing quote at end of verse as later editions do.
Lu 13:6 come > came (changed in later editions)
Ro 11:16 it > if (an obvious typesetting error corrected in later editions)
1Co 11:6 out > cut (an obvious typesetting error corrected in later editions)
Php 4:3 the Word 'book' in 'book of Life' was not capitalized in
various printings of the third edition, but it was in later
editions. So we have capitalized it here.
2Ti 1:9 deserts > desserts (misspelling perpetuated in later editions)
==== no change made:
Eph 6:17 did not capitalize 'word' as in Word of God.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
The Translation of the New Testament here offered to
English-speaking Christians is a bona fide translation made
directly from the Greek, and is in no sense a revision. The plan
adopted has been the following.
1. An earnest endeavour has been made (based upon more
than sixty years' study of both the Greek and English languages,
besides much further familiarity gained by continual teaching) to
ascertain the exact meaning of every passage not only by the
light that Classical Greek throws on the langruage used, but also
by that which the Septuagint and the Hebrew Scriptures afford;
aid being sought too from Versions and Commentators ancient and
modern, and from the ample _et cetera_ of _apparatus grammaticus_
and theological and Classical reviews and magazines--or rather,
by means of occasional excursions into this vast prairie.
2. The sense thus seeming to have been ascertained, the
next step has been to consider how it could be most accurately
and naturally exhibited in the English of the present day; in
other words, how we can with some approach to probability suppose
that the inspired writer himself would have expressed his
thoughts, had he been writing in our age and country. /1
3. Lastly it has been evidently desirable to compare the
results thus attained with the renderings of other scholars,
especially of course witll the Authorized and Revised Versions.
But alas, the great majority of even "new translations," so
called, are, in reality, only Tyndale's immortal work a
little--often very litLle--modernized!
4. But in the endeavour to find in Twentieth Century
English a precise equivalent for a Greek word, phrase, or
sentence there are two dangers to be guarded against. There are a
Scylla and a Charybdis. On the one hand there is the English of
Society, on the other hand that of the utterly uneducated, each
of these _patois_ having also its own special, though expressive,
borderland which we name'slang.' But all these salient angles
(as a professor of fortification might say) of our language are
forbidden ground to the reverent translator of Holy Scripture.
5. But again, a _modern_ translation--does this imply
that no words or phrases in any degree antiquated are to be
admitted? Not so, for great numbers of such words and phrases are
still in constant use. To be antiquated is not the same thing as
to be obsolete or even obsolescent, and without at least a tinge
of antiquity it is scarcely possible that there should be that
dignity of style that befits the sacred themes with which the
Evangelists and Apostles deal.
6. It is plain that this attempt to bring out the sense
of the Sacred Writings naturally as well as accurately in
present-day English does not permit, except to a limited extent,
the method of literal rendering--the _verbo verbum reddere_ at
which Horace shrugs his shoulders. Dr. Welldon, recently Bishop
of Calcutta, in the Preface (p. vii) to his masterly translation
of the _Nicomachean Ethics_ of Aristotle, writes, "I have
deliberately rejected the principle of trying to translate the
same Greek word by the same word in English, and where
circumstances seemed to call for it I have sometimes used two
English words to represent one word of the Greek;"--and he is
perfectly right. With a slavish literality delicate shades of
meaning cannot be reproduced, nor allowance be made for the
influence of interwoven thought, or of the writer's ever
shifting--not to say changing--point of view. An utterly ignorant
or utterly lazy man, if possessed of a little ingenuity, can with
the help of a dictionary and grammar give a word-for-word
rendering, whether intelligible or not, and print 'Translation'
on his title-page. On the other hand it is a melancholy spectacle
to see men of high ability and undoubted scholarship toil and
struggle at translation under a needless restriction to
literality, as in intellectual handcuffs and fetters, when they
might with advantage snap the bonds and fling them away, as Dr.
Welldon has done: more melancholy still, if they are at the same
time racking their brains to exhibit the result of their
labours---a splendid but idle philological _tour de force_ --in
what was English nearly 300 years before.
7. Obviously any literal translation cannot but carry
idioms of the earlier language into the later, where they will
very probably not be understood; /2 and more serious still is the
evil when, as in the Jewish Greek of the N T, the earlier
language of the two is itself composite and abounds in forms of
speech that belong to one earlier still. For the N.T. Greek, even
in the writings of Luke, contains a large number of Hebrew
idioms; and a literal rendering into English cannot but partially
veil, and in some degree distort, the true sense, even if it does
not totally obscure it (and that too where _perfect_ clearness
should be attained, if possible), by this admixture of Hebrew as
well as Greek forms of expression.
8. It follows that the reader who is bent upon getting a
literal rendering, such as he can commonly find in the R.V. or
(often a better one) in Darby's _New Testament_, should always be
on his guard against its strong tendency to mislead.
9. One point however can hardly be too emphatically
stated. It is not the present Translator's ambition to supplant
the Versions already in general use, to which their intrinsic
merit or long familiarity or both have caused all Christian minds
so lovingly to cling. His desire has rather been to furnish a
succinct and compressed running commentary (not doctrinal) to be
used sidc by side with its elder compeers. And yet there has been
something of a remoter hope. It can scarcely be doubted that some
day the attempt will be renewed to produce a satisfactory English
Bible--one in some respects perhaps (but assuredly with great and
important deviations) on the lines of the Revision of 1881, or
even altogether to supersede both the A.V. and the R.V.; and it
may be that the Translation here offered will contribute some
materials that may be built into that far grander edifice.
10. THE GREEK TEXT here followed is that given in the
Translator's _Resultant Greek Testament_.
11. Of the VARIOUS READINGS only those are here given
which seem the most important, and which affect the rendering
into English. They are in the footnotes, with V.L. (_varia
lectio_) prefixed. As to the chief modern critical editions full
details will be found in the _Resultant Greek Testament_, while
for the original authorities--MSS., Versions, Patristic
quotations--the reader must of necessity consult the great works
of Lachmann, Tregelles, Tischendorf, and others, or the numerous
monographs on separate Books. /3 In the margin of the R.V. a
distinction is made between readings supported by "a few ancient
authorities," "some ancient authorities," "many ancient
authorities," and so on. Such valuation is not attempted in this
work.
12. Considerable pains have been bestowed on the exact
rendering of the tenses of the Greek verb; for by inexactness in
this detail the true sense cannot but be missed. That the Greek
tenses do not coincide, and cannot be expected to coincide with
those of the English verb; that--except in narrative--the aorist
as a rule is _more_ exactly represented in English by our perfect
with "have" than by our simple past tense; and that in this
particular the A.V. is in scores of instances more correct than
the R.V.; the present Translator has contended (with arguments
which some of the best scholars in Britain and in America hold to
be "unanswerable" and "indisputable") in a pamphlet _On the
Rendering into English of the Greek Aorist and Perfect_. Even an
outline of the argument cannot be given in a Preface such as
this.
13. But he who would make a truly _English_ translation
of a foreign book must not only select the right nouns,
adjectives, and verbs, insert the suitable prepositions and
auxiliaries, and triumph (if he can) over the seductions and
blandishments of idioms with which he has been familiar from his
infancy, but which, though forcible or beautiful with other
surroundings, are for all that part and parcel of that other
language rather than of English: he has also to beware of
_connecting his sentences_ in an un-English fashion.
Now a careful examination of a number of authors
(including Scottish, Irish, and American) yields some interesting
results. Taking at haphazard a passage from each of fifty-six
authors, and counting on after some full stop till fifty finite
verbs--i. e. verbs in the indicative, imperative, or subjunctive
mood--have been reached (each finite verb, as every schoolboy
knows, being the nucleus of one sentence or clause), it has been
found that the connecting links of the fifty-six times fifty
sentences are about one-third conjunctions, about one-third
adverbs or relative and interrogative pronouns, while in the case
of the remaining third there is what the grammarians call an
_asyndeton_--no formal grammatical connexion at all. But in the
writers of the N.T. nearly _two_-thirds of the connecting links
are conjunctions. It follows that in order to make the style of a
translation true idiomatic English many of these conjunctions
must be omitted, and for others adverbs, &c., must be
substituted.
The two conjunctions _for_ and _therefore_ are discussed
at some length in two Appendices to the above-mentioned pamphlet
on the _Aorist_, to which the reader is referred.
14. The NOTES, with but few exceptions, are not of the
nature of a general commentary. Some, as already intimated, refer
to the readings here followed, but the great majority are in
vindication or explanation of the renderings given. Since the
completion of this new version nearly two years ago, ill-health
has incapacitated the Translator from undertaking even the
lightest work. He has therefore been obliged to entrust to other
hands the labour of critically examining and revising the
manuscript and of seeing it through the press. This arduous task
has been undertaken by Rev. Ernest Hampden-Cook, M.A., St. John's
College, Cambridge, of Sandhach, Cheshire, with some co-operation
from one of the Translator's sons; and the Translator is under
deep obligations to these two gentlemen for their kindness in the
matter. He has also most cordially to thank Mr. Hampden-Cook for
making the existence of the work known to various members of the
OLD MILLHILIANS' CLUB and other former pupils of the Translator,
who in a truly substantial manner have manifested a generous
determination to enable the volume to see the light. Very
grateful does the Translator feel to them for this signal mark of
their friendship.
Mr. Hampden-Cook is responsible for the headings of the
paragraphs, and at my express desire has inserted some additional
notes.
I have further to express my gratitude to Rev. Frank
Baliard, M.A., B.Sc., Lond., at present of Sharrow, Sheffield,
for some very valuable assistance which he has most kindly given
in connexion with the Introductions to the several books.
I have also the pleasure of acknowledging the numerous
valuable and suggestive criticisms with which I have been
favoured on some parts of the work, by an old friend, Rev. Sydney
Thelwall, B.A., of Leamington, a clergyman of the Church of
England, whom I have known for many years as a painstaking and
accurate scholar, a well-read theologian. and a thoughtful and
devout student of Scripture.
I am very thankful to Mr. H. L. Gethin. Mr. S. Hales, Mr.
J. A. Latham, and Rev. T. A. Seed, for the care with which they
have read the proof sheets.
And now this Translation is humbly and prayerfully
commended to God's gracious blessing.
R.F.W.
/1. I am aware of what Proffessor Blackie has written on this
subject (_Aeschylus_, Pref. p. viii) but the problem endeavoured
to be solved in this Translation is as above stated.
/2. A flagrant instance is the "having in a readiness" of 2 Cor.
10.6, A.V. althoglgh in Tyndale we find "and are redy to take
vengeaunce," and even Wiclif writes "and we han redi to venge."
/3 Such as McClellan's Four Gospels; Westcott on John's Gospel,
John's Epistles, and _Hebrews_; Hackett on _Acts_, Lightfoot, and
also Ellicott, on various Epistles: Mayor on _James_; Edwards on
_I Corinthians_ and _Hebrews_; Sanday and Headlam on _Romans_.
Add to these Scrivener's very valuable _Introduction to the
Criticism of the N.T._
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION
For the purposes of this edition the whole volume has
been re-set in new type, and, in the hope of increasing the
interest and attractiveness of the Translation, all conversations
have been spaced out in accordance with modern custom. A freer
use than before has been made of capital letters, and by means of
small, raised figures, prefixed to words in the text, an
indication has been griven whenever there is a footnote.
"Capernaum" and "Philadelphia" have been substituted for the less
familiar but more literal "Capharnahum" and "Philadelpheia." Many
errata have been corrected, and a very considerable number of
what seemed to be infelicities or slight inaccuracies in the
English have been removed. A few additional footnotes have been
inserted, and, for the most part, those for which the Editor is
responsible have now the letters ED. added to them.
Sincere thanks are tendered to the many kind friends who
have expressed their appreciation of this Translation, or have
helped to make it better known, and to the many correspondents
who have sent criticisms of the previous editions, and made
useful suggestions for the improvement of the volume.
E.H.C.
ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES
Aorist. Dr. Weymouth's Pamphlet on the Rendering of the Greek
Aorist and Perfect Tenses into English.
A.V. Authorised English Version, 1611.
Cp. Compare.
ED. Notes for which the Editor is responsible, wholly or in part.
I.E. That is.
Lit. Literally.
LXX. The Septuagint (Greek) Version of the Old Testament.
n. Note.
nn. Notes.
N.T. New Testament.
O.T. Old Testament.
R.V. Revised English Version, 1881-85.
S.H. Sanday and Headlam's Commentary on 'Romans.'
V.L. Varia Lectio. An alternative reading found in some
Manuscripts of the New Testament.
V.V. Verses.
In accordance with modern English custom, _ITALICS_ are
used to indicate emphasis. [In the etext, surounded by **]
Old Testament quotations are printed in small capitals.
[In the etext, surrounded by <>]
During Christ's earthly ministry even His disciples did not always
recognize His super-human nature and dignity. Accordingly, in
the Gospels of this Translation, it is only when the Evangelists
themselves use of Him the words "He," "Him," "His," that these
are spelt with capital initial letters.
The spelling of "me" and "my" with small initial letters, when
used by Christ Himself in the Gospels, is explained by the fact
that, before His Resurrection, He did not always emphasize His
own super-human nature and dignity.
The Good News as Recorded by Matthew
There are ample reasons for accepting the uniform
tradition which from earliest times has ascribed this Gospel to
Levi the son of Alphaeus, who seems to have changed his name to
'Matthew' on becoming a disciple of Jesus. Our information as to
his subsequent life is very scanty. After the feast which he made
for his old friends (Lu 5:29) his name only appears in the New
Testament in the list of the twelve Apostles. Early Christian
writers add little to our knowledge of him, but his life seems to
have been quiet and somewhat ascetic. He is also generally
represented as having died a natural death. Where his Gospel was
written, or where he himself laboured, we cannot say.
Not a little controversy has arisen as to the form in
which this Gospel first appeared, that is, as to whether we have
in the Greek MSS. an original document or a translation from an
earlier Aramaic writing. Modern scholarship inclines to the view
that the book is not a translation, but was probably written in
Greek by Matthew himself, upon the basis of a previously issued
collection of "Logia" or discourses, to the existence of which
Papias, Irenaeus, Pantaenus, Origen, Eusebius and Jerome all
testify.
The date of the Gospel, as we know it, is somewhat
uncertain, but the best critical estimates are included between
70 and 90, A.D. Perhaps, with Harnack, we may adopt 75, A.D.
The book was evidently intended for Jewish converts, and
exhibits Jesus as the God-appointed Messiah and King, the
fulfiller of the Law and of the highest expectations of the
Jewish nation. This speciality of aim rather enhances than
diminishes its general value. Renan found reason for pronouncing
it "the most important book of Christendom-- the most important
book which has ever been written." Its aim is manifestly didactic
rather than chronological.
The Good News as Recorded by Mark
This Gospel is at once the briefest and earliest of the
four. Modern research confirms the ancient tradition that the
author was Barnabas's cousin, "John, whose other name was Mark,"
who during Paul's first missionary tour "departed from them" at
Pamphylia, "and returned to Jerusalem" (see Ac 12:12,25;
15:37,39; Co 4:1O; 2Ti 4:11; Phm 1:24; 1Pe 5:13). His defection
appeared to Paul sufficiently serious to warrant an emphatic
refusal to take him with him on a second tour, but in after years
the breach was healed and we find Mark with Paul again when he
writes to Colossae, and he is also mentioned approvingly in the
second Letter to Timothy.
Scholars are now almost unanimous in fixing the date of
this Gospel between 63 and 70, A. D. There is no valid reason for
questioning the usual view that it was written in Rome. Clement,
Eusebius, Jerome and Epiphanius, all assert that this was so.
That the book was mainly intended for Gentiles, and especially
Romans, seems probable from internal evidence. Latin forms not
occurring in other Gospels, together with explanations of Jewish
terms and customs, and the omission of all reference to the
Jewish Law, point in this direction. Its vividness of narration
and pictorial minuteness of observation bespeak the testimony of
an eye-witness, and the assertion of Papias, quoted by Eusebius,
that Mark was "the interpreter of Peter" is borne out by the
Gospel itself no less than by what we otherwise know of Mark and
Peter.
In a real though not mechanical sense, this is "the
Gospel of Peter," and its admitted priority to the Gospels of
Matthew and Luke affords substantial reason for the assumption
that it is to some extent the source whence they derive their
narratives, although Papias distinctly affirms that Mark made no
attempt at giving a carefully arranged history such as that at
which Luke confessedly aimed.
In spite of the witness of most uncial MSS. and the
valiant pleading of Dean Burgon and others, modern scholars are
well nigh unanimous in asserting that the last twelve verses of
this Gospel are an appendix. Yet less cannot honestly be said
than that they "must have been of very early date," and that they
embody "a true apostolic tradition which may have been written by
some companion or successor of the original author." In one
Armenian MS. they are attributed to Aristion.
The Good News as Recorded by Luke
Modern research has abundantly confirmed the ancient
tradition that the anonymous author of the third Gospel is none
other than "Luke the beloved physician" and the narrator of the
"Acts of the Apostles" (see. Col 4:14; 2Ti 4:11; Phm 1:24). Even
Renan acknowledges this, and the objections of a few extremists
appear to have been sufficiently answered.
The date is not easy to settle. The main problem is
whether the book was written before or after the destruction of
Jerusalem in 70, A.D. Not a few scholars whose views merit great
respect still think that it preceded that event, but the majority
of critics believe otherwise. Three principal dates have been
suggested, 63, A.D., 80, A.D., 100, A.D. If we accept 80, A. D.,
we shall be in substantial accord with Harnack, McGiffert, and
Plummer, who fairly represent the best consensus of scholarly
opinion.
There is no evidence as to where this Gospel was
composed, although its general style suggests the influence of
some Hellenic centre. Its special characteristics are plain. It
is written in purer Greek than the other Gospels, and is
manifestly the most historic and artistic. It has also the widest
outlook, having obviously been compiled for Gentiles, and,
especially, for Greeks. The Author was evidently an educated man
and probably a physician, and was also a close observer.
Eighteen of the parables and six of the miracles found
here are not recorded elsewhere. Those "portions of the Gospel
narrative which Luke alone has preserved for us, are among | 2,297.258123 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.3385020 | 5,708 | 12 |
Produced by 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)
IRELAND UNDER THE STUARTS
VOL. III.
_By the same Author_
IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS
3 vols. 8vo.
Vols. I. and II.--From the First Invasion of the Northmen to the year
1578.
(Out of Print.)
Vol. III.--1578-1603. 18_s._
IRELAND UNDER THE STUARTS AND DURING THE INTERREGNUM
3 vols. 8vo.
Vols. I. and II.--1603-1660. With 2 Maps.
28_s._ net.
LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
London, New York, Bombay, Calcutta,
and Madras
IRELAND
UNDER THE STUARTS
AND
DURING THE INTERREGNUM
BY
RICHARD BAGWELL, M.A.
HON. LITT.D. (DUBLIN), AUTHOR OF 'IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS'
VOL. III. 1660-1690
_WITH MAP_
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
FOURTH AVENUE & 30th STREET, NEW YORK
BOMBAY, CALCUTTA, AND MADRAS
1916
All rights reserved
CONTENTS
OF
THE THIRD VOLUME
CHAPTER XL
THE RESTORATION GOVERNMENT, 1660
PAGE
The Irish Convention 1
Charles II. proclaimed 3
Coote and Broghill 4
The Church re-established 8
CHAPTER XLI
DECLARATION AND ACT OF SETTLEMENT, 1660-1662
Position of Irish Recusants 11
The Declaration 13
Various classes of claimants 14
First Commission of Claims 16
The Irish Parliament, May 1661 18
The Declaration debated 19
Conditions of Settlement 20
Insufficiency of land 22
Ormonde Lord Lieutenant 24
He arrives in Ireland 27
The Clanmalier Estate--Portarlington 28
CHAPTER XLII
COURT OF CLAIMS AND ACT OF EXPLANATION, 1662-1665
The second Court of Claims 30
Innocents and Nocents 31
General dissatisfaction 32
Discontented soldiers 34
Plot to seize Dublin Castle--Blood 35
Lord Antrim's case 39
'Murder will out' 42
Bill of Explanation 43
Violent debates 49
The Bill passes 50
CHAPTER XLIII
ORMONDE AND THE IRISH HIERARCHY
Ormonde's royalism 51
Peter Walsh, Orrery, and Bellings 51
Walsh and the loyal remonstrance 55
Opposition of Primate O'Reilly 56
Incompatibility of royal and papal claims 58
The Congregation meets, June 1666 61
The Remonstrance rejected 62
Why the Congregation failed 64
CHAPTER XLIV
GOVERNMENT OF ORMONDE, 1665-1668
Irish Parliament dissolved 67
Mutiny at Carrickfergus 68
Partial exclusion of Irish cattle 69
The Canary Company 70
Disputes on the cattle question 72
Irish cattle excluded and voted a public nuisance 74
Evil effects of exclusion policy 77
Ireland retaliates on Scotland 79
The first Dutch war--coast defence 81
Fall of Clarendon 84
Ormonde and Orrery 86
Recall of Ormonde 87
CHAPTER XLV
ROBARTES AND BERKELEY, 1669-1672
Lord Robartes made Lord Lieutenant 89
The Tories 90
Ossory and Robartes 92
Character of Robartes 94
Attempt to impeach Orrery 96
Lord Berkeley and his Secretary 99
Recusants indulged--Oliver Plunket 100
Blood tries to kidnap Ormonde 102
Attacks on the Act of Settlement 102
Lady Clanbrassil 104
The dispensing power 105
Riots in Dublin--Bloody Bridge 106
CHAPTER XLVI
GOVERNMENT OF ESSEX, 1672-1677
Essex reaches Ireland 108
Dublin agitators 110
Essex protects Phoenix Park 111
Provincial presidencies suppressed 112
Intolerance of the English Parliament 113
Charles II. submits 114
Agreement of Essex and Ormonde 116
Financial abuses--Ranelagh 119
Ormonde restored to favour 121
And to the Lord Lieutenancy 123
CHAPTER XLVII
GOVERNMENT OF ORMONDE, 1677-1685
Revenue troubles 125
Scramble for land 126
Oates's plot 127
Ormonde and Orrery 129
Intrigues of Shaftesbury 130
Spies and false witnesses 133
Trial and execution of Oliver Plunket 134
Ormonde's opinion of the witnesses 139
Castlehaven's Memoirs 140
Ormonde and Anglesey 141
Tories--O'Hanlon and Power 143
Attack on the Settlement 144
Court of Grace 145
Death of Charles II. 147
CHAPTER XLVIII
CLARENDON AND TYRCONNEL, 1685-1686
Accession of James II. 148
Purging the army--Tyrconnel 149
Clarendon made Lord Lieutenant 150
His journey to Ireland 151
Tyrconnel goes to London 152
Irish and French Protestant refugees 153
Judges dismissed 154
A new Privy Council 156
Tyrconnel returns as Commander-in-Chief 157
Catherine Sedley in Ireland 157
Drastic changes in the army 158
Hard cases 159
Tory Hamilton's case 160
Tyrconnel summoned to London 162
'Lillibullero' 164
Clarendon leaves Ireland 165
CHAPTER XLIX
GOVERNMENT OF TYRCONNEL, 1687-1688
Tyrconnel made Lord Deputy 167
The Coventry letter 168
The Land Settlement threatened 169
Protestant corporations attacked 170
The _Quo Warrantos_ 172
Panic among the Protestants 173
Lord Chancellor Porter dismissed 174
Succeeded by Fitton 175
Judges, magistrates, and sheriffs 176
Rice and Nugent in London 177
Declaration of Indulgence 178
Tyrconnel multiplies commissions 179
Irish soldiers in England 180
Fresh regiments raised 181
Death and character of Ormonde 182
Disturbed state of society--Leinster 184
Southwell's case 186
William's overtures to Tyrconnel 187
Panic in Ulster--Lord Mountjoy 188
Gates of Londonderry shut 190
Enniskillen and Sligo 191
Break of Dromore 193
CHAPTER L
JAMES II. IN IRELAND, 1689
French designs on Ireland--Pointis 195
Tyrconnel invites James to Ireland 198
France, Emperor, and Pope 198
Tyrconnel prepares for war 200
Attempts at resistance--Bandon 202
Kenmare 203
James arrives in Ireland 206
From Cork to Dublin 208
Avaux and Melfort 209
Fighting in Ulster--George Walker 212
William III. proclaimed at Londonderry 213
James II. in Ulster 214
Naval action at Bantry 217
Confusion in Dublin--John Stevens 218
CHAPTER LI
THE PARLIAMENT OF 1689
Tyrconnel, MacCarthy, and Sarsfield 219
The Hamiltons 222
Composition of Parliament 223
The King's speech 224
The Land Settlement attacked 225
Act of Settlement repealed 227
Act of Attainder 228
Case of Trinity College 231
Treatment of the clergy 232
Commercial legislation 233
Daly's case--scramble for property 234
French efforts to capture trade 236
End of the Parliament 237
CHAPTER LII
LONDONDERRY AND ENNISKILLEN, 1689
Siege of Londonderry 239
An English squadron appears 242
Schomberg orders the town to be relieved 243
Cruelty of De Rosen--indignation of James 245
Londonderry relieved by sea 248
Cost of the siege 250
Defence of Enniskillen 250
Colonel Lloyd--the Break of Belleek 252
Kirke in Lough Swilly--Colonel Wolseley 253
Battle of Newtown Butler 255
Walker in England 257
Controversy as to his 'True Account' 258
CHAPTER LIII
JAMES II. AND SCHOMBERG, 1689-1690
Schomberg's preparations 260
He reaches Ireland 261
Carrickfergus taken 263
Berwick evacuates Newry 264
Flight of Melfort 265
Schomberg refuses battle 266
Military conspiracy 267
Sufferings of Schomberg's army--Shales 268
Sligo taken and retaken 271
State of Dublin 272
Lauzun sent to Ireland 273
French opinion 274
Brass money 276
Fighting at Newry, Belturbet, and Cavan 278
Avaux and Rosen recalled 280
Lauzun reaches Ireland 281
Disarming the Protestants 282
King and Bonnell 283
Treatment of Trinity College 285
CHAPTER LIV
WILLIAM III. IN IRELAND, 1690. THE BOYNE
English and French interests 287
Charlemont taken 288
Opposition to William's expedition 289
He lands in Ireland 290
James moves to meet him 292
William reaches the Boyne 293
Battle of the Boyne, July 1 295
Flight of James 299
Political importance of the battle 301
James escapes to France 304
William enters Dublin 306
Final ruin of the Stuart cause 307
CHAPTER LV
SOCIAL IRELAND FROM RESTORATION TO REVOLUTION
Ireland after the Civil War 309
Country-houses--Portmore, Charleville, Kilkenny 310
Dublin Castle 312
An Irish spa 313
Condition of the poor 314
Ploughing by the tail 316
Some Dublin houses 317
Prosperity under Charles II. 318
CHAPTER LVI
THE THREE IRISH CHURCHES
The Establishment 319
Jeremy Taylor 320
Bishops ignorant of Irish 321
Condition of the clergy 322
The Irish Bible 324
The Presbyterians 325
The Roman Catholics 326
Oliver Plunket 327
Talbot, O'Molony, and other Bishops 328
Recusants after James II. 330
Slow growth of toleration 331
APPENDIX
Letter from Ormonde to Bennet, 1663 333
MAP
Ireland to illustrate the reign of James II. _At end of the volume._
IRELAND UNDER THE STUARTS
CHAPTER XL
THE RESTORATION GOVERNMENT, 1660
The King enjoyed his own again, and England rejoiced exceedingly. Even
Oliver's unbeaten soldiers, disgusted with his incompetent successors,
were for the most part ready to retire into private life. Yet the
spirit of the Puritan revolution survived, and the Mayor of Dover
presented a richly bound Bible to the restored monarch, who graciously
accepted it, remarking that it was the thing that he loved above all
things in the world. At Canterbury a crowd of importunate suitors gave
him some foretaste of future troubles, but the entry into London was
wonderful. 'I stood in the Strand,' says Evelyn, 'and beheld it, and
blessed God.' With the shouts of welcome still in his ears Charles
took refuge in the arms of Barbara Palmer, and next day issued a
proclamation against vicious, debauched, and profane persons.
[Sidenote: The Irish Convention.]
Coote and Broghill were jealous of each other. There is reason to
believe that the former was inclined to claim the whole credit of
restoring the King, but that the latter proved his own priority by
producing a letter from his rival acknowledging the fact. They agreed
that the Restoration might be delayed or frustrated by hasty action
in Ireland, and that it was better to wait until England herself was
committed to it. The officers who had gladly pronounced for a free
Parliament might not have been united had royalty been openly favoured.
But the Irish Convention lost no time in repudiating Cromwell's plan
of one legislature for the whole of the British Islands, while strongly
approving the restoration of the secluded members in England. They
declared that 'as for several hundreds of years last passed by the
laws and laudable custom and constitution of this nation, Parliaments
have been usually held in Ireland and that in those Parliaments laws
have been enacted and laws repealed, and subsidies granted, as public
occasion required so that right of having Parliaments held in Ireland
is still justly and lawfully due and belonging to Ireland, and that the
Parliament of England never charged Ireland in any age with subsidies
or other public taxes and assessments, until after the violence offered
to the Parliament of England in December 1648, since which time they
who invaded the rights of the Parliament of England invaded also the
rights of the Parliament of Ireland by imposing taxes and assessments
upon Ireland.' This important declaration was not made for more than
a month after the first meeting of the Convention, and the leaders
had prevented news from crossing the Channel until they were sure of
unanimity. It is therefore not surprising that they were reported to
favour separation from England. The Convention now stigmatised this
as a calumny originating with Ludlow and his friends, for the idea of
separation was hateful to Ireland as absolutely destructive, 'being
generally bone of their bone, flesh of their flesh.' It was clearly
seen that the colonists would have a majority, and means were taken
to make it permanent. The Convention pledged themselves to favour
education, and to assist in the establishment of a pious, learned,
and orthodox parochial clergy supported by tithes or endowments. The
adventurers and soldiers were to be secured in the lands they had
acquired, and all arrears of military pay to be cleared off.[1]
[Sidenote: Provisional taxation.]
For some months before and after the Restoration all real power was in
the hands of the army, but the Irish Convention gave a show of legality
to the means by which the soldiers were paid. A poll tax was imposed
for this and other public charges, every person of either sex under the
degree of yeoman or farmer being assessed at twelve pence, which was
the minimum, and the rate rose according to social position. A baron's
contribution was fixed at thirty shillings, and that of a marquis,
marchioness, or marchioness dowager at eight pounds, which was the
maximum. The chief Protestant gentry were appointed collectors in each
county, Coote heading the list for Roscommon and Broghill for Cork. The
royalist wire-pullers in London had been urging the managers of the
Convention not to go too fast for fear of alarming the Presbyterians,
and it was not till May 1 that they published a declaration condemning
the high court of justice and the sentence on the late King. The people
of Ireland, they said, took the first opportunity afforded them of
denouncing the most foul murder recorded in sacred or profane history,
considering that it had been committed in a country where the true
reformed religion flourished, and that it was contrary to the solemn
league and covenant which the murderers had themselves taken.[2]
[Sidenote: Charles II. proclaimed May 14.]
Charles II. was proclaimed in Westminster Hall on May 8, and six days
later in Dublin; and there were general rejoicings though the central
figure was wanting. The shops were shut, all the finery they contained
having been transferred to the citizens' backs. Hogsheads of wine were
provided for the multitude, and the more they drank the better the
givers were pleased. The guns of the Castle thundered salutes, volleys
of musketry were heard on all sides, bonfires and fireworks blazed
until midnight. A headless figure stuffed with hay and reclining on a
rude hearse was carried in a mock funeral procession, and subjected to
the blows and insults of the mob. The journey ended at the mayor's door
'where it was in part burnt before the bonfire there, and part trod
to dirt and mortar by the rout.' Such was the end of the mighty Long
Parliament.[3]
[Sidenote: Lords Justices appointed.]
Sir Charles Coote had been President of Connaught since 1645, and
there was no difficulty in his case, since service under the Protector
was not to be considered a disability. Broghill's appointment, if
ever regularly made, was of much later date and of republican origin,
but he had the military authority and the legal presidency was soon
conferred on him also. With these two was associated Major, soon after
Sir William Bury of Grantham, who had been one of the Irish Council
under both Protectors. These three were appointed Commissioners
for the Government of Ireland in January and were members of the
Convention though keeping their official work separate. Broghill was
generally in London for some time after the Restoration, and Bury, who
had Presbyterian leanings and whom Adair calls a religious, prudent
gentleman, did not always agree with Coote. Other Commissioners were
afterwards added and all were paid at the rate of 1,000_l._ a year
until the end of 1660. In compliance with the wishes of the Irish
Convention some of the great offices were filled up very soon after the
Restoration. The great seal of Ireland fell to Sir Maurice Eustace, who
had been Prime Serjeant and Speaker of the House of Commons as early as
1634, and had afterwards endured seven years' imprisonment which only
ended in 1658. He thought himself too old for the work, and Clarendon
was of the same opinion: 'he was now old and made so little show of
any parts extraordinary, that, but for the testimony that was given
of him, it might have been doubted whether he ever had any.' Sir James
Barry, the chairman of the Convention, became Lord Chief Justice. He
had been Strafford's attorney-general, and very useful to him in making
out the royal title to Irish land. Sir William Domvile, who was made
Attorney-General, chiefly on the recommendation of Daniel O'Neill,
showed great ability and presided in the Convention in succession to
Barry, who became Lord Santry. Arthur Annesley was installed in his
father's old place of vice-treasurer, and was soon created Earl of
Anglesey.[4]
[Sidenote: Monck and Robartes.]
Monck, now Duke of Albemarle, claimed the Lord Lieutenancy of Ireland
where he had an estate, but does not appear to have had any intention
of living there. Clarendon says his chief object was to make money.
It became necessary to find a deputy, and Charles fixed upon Lord
Robartes, whose business capacity was undoubted and who had a good
reputation for honesty. He was, however, of a morose temper, seldom
agreeing with others, and was much offended at being made Deputy to
Albemarle, and not to the King directly, though he was offered the
usual power of viceroy. The negotiation dragged on for six months,
during which Robartes made enemies of all with whom he had to confer
on Irish business, and at last he accepted the Privy Seal, leaving the
Government of Ireland to the old Commissioners, while Albemarle, who
was too important to displace, remained Lord Lieutenant. In September
Coote was created Earl of Mountrath and Broghill of Orrery, and the
latter showed his astuteness in securing precedence by getting his
patent passed one day before his rival. On the last day of the year the
two new Earls were appointed Lords Justices along with the Chancellor
Eustace. They were specially authorised by the King to assemble the
Irish Convention again in order to provide funds for the payment of
the army. The ancient framework of Irish government was completed by
appointing a Privy Council of thirty-four members among whom was Sir
Philip Mainwaring, made secretary by Strafford in 1634 and still in
legal possession of his office. He died a few months later, having
received little or no reward for old service and for more than twenty
years of poverty varied by imprisonment.[5]
[Sidenote: Negotiations with England.]
Before the Restoration was accomplished the Irish Convention sent
over Sir John Clotworthy and Major William Aston as Commissioners to
communicate with the still sovereign Parliament of England. Clotworthy,
created Viscount Massereene a few months later, was deeply interested
in the Cromwellian land settlement and gained much influence by his
activity. His unconcealed Presbyterian leanings were forgiven because,
in Clarendon's words, 'he was of a generous and a jovial nature' and
a staunch Royalist. After the Restoration these two Commissioners
were appointed to attend the King along with eleven others, including
Coote, Broghill, Barry, Eustace, and Audley Mervyn. They carried
with them 20,000_l._ for Charles and lesser gifts for each of his
brothers. Their instructions were to petition for an Irish Parliament
consisting of Protestant Peers and Commoners and freed for this turn
from the restrictions of Poynings' law, for an act of oblivion for all
Protestants subject to parliamentary exceptions, and for an act for the
attainder of such persons as Parliament should select. It was desired
that adventurers and soldiers should be settled in their lands and the
Irish in Connaught and Clare. Impropriate tithes in the King's hand
were to be restored to the Church, and taxation was to be controlled
by the Irish Parliament. These were the chief points insisted on by
the dominant party, while the Irish Roman Catholic gentry in London
besought Ormonde, who had been the principal means of uniting the three
kingdoms, to mediate for them 'and the remnant of their miserable
nation' who were ready to lay down their lives for the King. Sir
Nicholas Plunket was usually the spokesman of these suppliants. On July
27 Ormonde, who became an Irish duke, took his seat in the House of
Lords as Earl of Brecknock, and on the same day Charles concluded his
speech as follows: 'I hope I need say nothing of Ireland, and that they
alone shall not be without the benefit of my mercy. They have shewed
much affection to me abroad, and you will have a care of my honour and
of what I have promised to them.'[6]
[Sidenote: Position of the Roman Catholics.]
Unfortunately for the chances of the Irish Roman Catholics some of
them would not wait, but took forcible possession of their old lands,
and there were many outrages. The extent of the disorder may have been
exaggerated, but the Convention Parliament believed the worst and the
result was a royal proclamation, dated only two days after the King's
entry into London, in which he declared himself'very sensible of the
innocent blood of so many thousands of our English Protestant subjects
formerly slain by the hands of those barbarous rebels.' To prevent the
further spread of lawlessness all Irish rebels except those protected
by articles were to be apprehended | 2,297.358542 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.4343730 | 4,018 | 28 | V***
E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Charlie Kirschner, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
Editorial note: Project Gutenberg has an earlier version of this work,
which is titled Beacon Lights of History, Volume III,
part 1: The Middle Ages. See E-Book#1498,
http://www.gutenberg.net/etext98/31blh10.txt or
http://www.gutenberg.net/etext98/31blh10.zip
The numbering of volumes in the earlier set reflected
the order in which the lectures were given. In the
current (later) version, volumes were numbered to put
the subjects in historical sequence.
LORD'S LECTURES
BEACON LIGHTS OF HISTORY, VOLUME V
THE MIDDLE AGES.
BY JOHN LORD, LL.D.,
AUTHOR OF "THE OLD ROMAN WORLD," "MODERN EUROPE,"
ETC., ETC.
CONTENTS.
MOHAMMED.
SARACENIC CONQUESTS.
Change of public opinion about Mohammed
Astonishing triumph of Mohammedanism
Old religious systems of Arabia
Polytheism succeeds the doctrines of the Magians
The necessity of reform
Early life of Mohammed
Cadijeh
Mohammed's meditations and dreams
His belief in a personal God
He preaches his new doctrines
The opposition and ridicule of his countrymen
The perseverance of Mohammed amid obstacles
His flight to Medina
The Koran and its doctrines
Change in Mohammed's mode of propagating his doctrines
Polygamy and a sensual paradise
Warlike means to convert Arabia
Mohammed accommodates his doctrines to the habits of his countrymen
Encourages martial fanaticism
Conquest of Arabia
Private life of Mohammed, after his success
Carlyle's apology for Mohammed
The conquest of Syria and Egypt
Conquest of Persia and India
Deductions in view of Saracenic conquests
Necessity of supernatural aid in the conversion of the world
Authorities
CHARLEMAGNE.
REVIVAL OF WESTERN EMPIRE.
Ancestry and early life of Charlemagne
The Merovingian princes
Condition of Europe on the accession of Charlemagne
Necessity for such a hero to arise
His perils and struggles
Wars with the Saxons
The difficulties of the Saxon conquest
Forced conversion of the Saxons
The Norman pirates
Conquest of the Avares
Unsuccessful war with the Saracens
The Lombard wars
Coronation of Charlemagne at Home
Imperialism and its influences
The dismemberment of Charlemagne's empire
Foundation of Feudalism
Charlemagne as a legislator
His alliance with the clergy
His administrative abilities
Reasons why he patronized the clergy
Results of Charlemagne's policy
Hallam's splendid eulogy
Authorities
HILDEBRAND.
THE PAPAL EMPIRE.
Wonderful government of the Papacy
Its vitality
Its contradictions
Its fascinations
The crimes of which it is accused
General character of the popes
Gregory VII. the most famous
His personal history
His autocratic ideas
His reign at the right time
Society in Europe in the eleventh century
Character of the clergy
The monks, and the need of reform
Character of the popes before Gregory VII.
Celibacy of the clergy
Alliance of the Papacy and Monasticism
Opposition to the reforms of Hildebrand
Terrible power of excommunication
Simony and its evils
Secularization of the clergy
Separation of spiritual from temporal power
Henry IV. of Germany
Approaching strife between Henry and Hildebrand
Their respective weapons
Henry summoned to Rome
Excommunication of Henry
Henry deserted and disarmed
Compelled to yield to Hildebrand
His great mistake
Renewed contest
Humiliation of the Pope
Moral effects of the contest
Speculations about the Papal power
Authorities
SAINT BERNARD.
MONASTIC INSTITUTIONS.
Antiquity of Monastic life
Causes which led to it
Oriental asceticism
Religious contemplation
Insoluble questions
Self-expiations
Basil the founder of Monasticism
His interesting history
Gregory Nazianzen
Vows of the monks
Their antagonism to prevailing evils
Vow of Poverty opposed to money-making
That of Chastity a protest against prevailing impurity
Origin of celibacy
Its subsequent corruption
Necessity of the vow of Obedience
Benedict and the Monastery of Monte Casino
His rules generally adopted
Lofty and useful life of the early monks
Growth and wealth of Monastic institutions
Magnificence of Mediaeval convents
Privileges of the monks
Luxury of the Benedictines
Relaxation of discipline
Degeneracy of the monks
Compared with secular clergy
Benefits which Monasticism conferred
Learning of the monks
Their common life
Revival of Learning
Rise of Scholasticism
Saint Bernard
His early piety and great attainments
His vast moral influence
His reforms and labors
Rise of Dominicans and Franciscans
Zeal of the mendicant friars
General benefits of Monastic institutions
Authorities
SAINT ANSELM.
MEDIAEVAL THEOLOGY.
Birth and early life of Anselm
The Abbey of Bec
Scholarly life of Anselm
Visits of Anselm to England
Compared with Becket
Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury
Privileges of the Archbishop
Unwillingness of Anselm to be elevated
Lanfranc succeeded by Anselm
Quarrel between Anselm and William Rufus
Despotic character of William
Disputed claims of Popes Urban and Clement
Council of Rockingham
Royal efforts to depose Anselm
Firmness and heroism of Anselm
Duplicity of the king
His intrigues with the Pope
Pretended reconciliation with Anselm
Appeals to Rome
Inordinate claims of the Pope
Allegiance of Anselm to the Pope
Anselm at Rome
Death of William and Accession of Henry I.
Royal encroachments
Henry quarrels with Anselm
Results of the quarrel
Anselm as a theologian
Theology of the Middle Ages
Monks become philosophers
Gotschalk and predestination
John Scotus Erigena
Revived spirit of inquiry
Services of Anselm to theology
He brings philosophy to support theology
Combats Nominalism
His philosophical deductions
His devout Christian spirit
Authorities
THOMAS AQUINAS.
THE SCHOLASTIC PHILOSOPHY.
Peter Abelard
Gives a new impulse to philosophy
Rationalistic tendency of his teachings
The hatreds he created
Peter Lombard
His "Book of Sentences"
Introduction of the writings of Aristotle into Europe
University of Paris
Character of the students
Their various studies
Aristotle's logic used
The method of the Schoolmen
The Dominicans and Franciscans
Innocent III.
Thomas Aquinas
His early life and studies
Albertus Magnus
Aquinas's first great work
Made Doctor of Theology
His "Summa Theologica"
Its vast learning
Parallel between Aquinas and Plato
Parallel between Plato and Aristotle
Influence of Scholasticism
Waste of intellectual life
Scholasticism attractive to the Middle Ages
To be admired like a cathedral
Authorities
THOMAS BECKET.
PRELATICAL POWER.
Becket a puzzle to historians
His early history
His gradual elevation
Friendship with Henry II.
Becket made Chancellor
Elevated to the See of Canterbury
Dignity of an archbishop of Canterbury
Lanfranc
Anselm
Theobald
Becket in contrast
His ascetic habits as priest
His high-church principles
Upholds the spiritual courts
Defends the privileges of his order
Conflict with the king
Constitutions of Clarendon
Persecution of Becket
He yields at first to the king
His repentance
Defection of the bishops
Becket escapes to the Continent
Supported by Louis VII. of France
Insincerity of the Pope
Becket at Pontigny in exile
His indignant rebuke of the Pope
Who excommunicates the Archbishop of York
Henry obliged to compromise
Hollow reconciliation with Becket
Return of Becket to Canterbury
His triumphal procession
Annoyance of Henry
Assassination of Becket
Consequences of the murder
Authorities
THE FEUDAL SYSTEM.
Anarchies of the Merovingian period
Society on the dissolution of Charlemagne's empire
Allodial tenure
Origin of Feudalism
Dependence and protection the principles of Feudalism
Peasants and their masters
The sentiment of loyalty
Contentment of the peasantry
Evils that cannot be redressed
Submission to them a necessity
Division of Charlemagne's empire
Life of the nobles
Pleasures and habits of feudal barons
Aristocratic character of Feudalism
Slavery of the people
Indirect blessings of Feudalism
Slavery not an unmixed evil
Influence of chivalry
Devotion to woman
The lady of the baronial castle
Reasons why women were worshipped
Dignity of the baronial home
The Christian woman contrasted with the pagan
Glory and beauty of Chivalry
Authorities
THE CRUSADES.
The Crusades the great external event of the Middle Ages
A semi-religious and semi-military movement
What gives interest to wars?
Wars the exponents of prevailing ideas
The overruling of all wars
The majesty of Providence seen in war
Origin of the Crusades
Pilgrimages to Jerusalem
Miseries and insults of the pilgrims
Intense hatred of Mohammedanism
Peter of Amiens
Council of Clermont
The First Crusade
Its miseries and mistakes
The Second Crusade
The Third Crusade
The Fourth, Children's, Fifth, and Sixth Crusades
The Seventh Crusade
All alike unsuccessful, and wasteful of life and energies
Peculiarities and immense mistakes of the Crusaders
The moral evils of the Crusades
Ultimate results of the Crusades
Barrier made against Mohammedan conquests
Political necessity of the Crusades
Their effect in weakening the Feudal system
Effect of the Crusades on the growth of cities
On commerce and art and literature
They scatter the germs of a new civilization
They centralize power
They ultimately elevate the European races
Authorities
WILLIAM OF WYKEHAM.
GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE.
Roman architecture
First form of a Christian church
The change to the Romanesque
Its peculiarities
Its connection with Monasticism
Gloomy aspect of the churches of the tenth and eleventh centuries
Effect of the Crusades on church architecture
Church architecture becomes cheerful
The Gothic churches of France and Germany
The English Mediaeval churches
Glories of the pointed arch
Effect of the Renaissance on architecture
Mongrel style of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
Revival of the pure gothic
Churches should be adapted to their uses
Incongruity of Protestantism with ritualistic architecture
Protestantism demands a church for preaching
Gothic vaults unfavorable to oratory
Authorities
JOHN WYCLIF.
DAWN OF THE REFORMATION.
Harmony of Protestant and Mediaeval creeds
The Reformation a moral movement
The evils of Papal institutions
The evils of monastic life
Quarrels and dissoluteness of monks
Birth of Wyclif
His scholastic attainments and honors
His political influence
The powers who have ruled the world
Wyclif sent on a mission to Bruges
Protection of John of Gaunt
Wyclif summoned to an ecclesiastical council
His defenders and foes
Triumph of Wyclif
He openly denounces the Pope
His translation of the Bible
Opposition to it by the higher clergy
Hostility of Roman Catholicism to the right of private judgment
Hostility to the Bible in vernacular tongues
Spread of the Bible in English
Wyclif as a doctrinal reformer
He attacks Transubstantiation
Deserted by the Duke of Lancaster
But dies peaceably in his parish
Wyclif contrasted with Luther
His great services to the church
Reasons why he escaped martyrdom
Authorities
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME V.
Roland Calls for Succor in the Battle of Roncesvalles
_After the painting by Louis Guesnet_.
A Reading from the Koran
_After the painting by W. Gentz_.
Mohammed, Preaching the Unity of God, Enters the City of Mecca
_After the painting by A. Mueller_.
Charlemagne Inflicts the Rite of Baptism on the Saxons
_After the painting by Adolph Maria Mucha_.
St. Bernard Counselling Conrad III.
_After the painting by Adolph Maria Mucha_.
Canterbury Cathedral
_From a photograph_.
St. Thomas Aquinas in the School of Albertus Magnus
_After the painting by H. Lerolle_.
Murder of St. Thomas a Becket
_After the painting by A. Dawant_.
The Accolade
_After the painting by Sir E. Blair Leighton_.
Winchester Cathedral
_From a photograph_.
Facsimile of Page from Wyclif Bible
BEACON LIGHTS OF HISTORY
* * * * *
MOHAMMED.[1]
* * * * *
A.D. 570-632.
SARACENIC CONQUESTS.
[Footnote 1: Spelled also _Mahomet_, _Mahommed_; but I prefer Mohammed.]
The most extraordinary man who arose after the fall of the Roman Empire
was doubtless Mohammed; and his posthumous influence has been greater
than that of any man since Christianity was declared, if we take into
account the number of those who have received his doctrines. Even
Christianity never had so rapid a spread. More than a sixth part of the
human race are the professed followers of the Arabian prophet.
In regard to Mohammed himself, a great change has taken place in the
opinions of critics within fifty years. It was the fashion half a
century ago to speak of this man as a hypocrite, an impostor, even as
Antichrist. Now he is generally regarded as a reformer; that is, as a
man who introduced into Arabia a religion and a morality superior to
what previously existed, and he is regarded as an impostor only so far
as he was visionary. Few critics doubt his sincerity. He was no
hypocrite, since he himself believed in his mission; and his mission was
benevolent,--to turn his countrymen from a gross polytheism to the
worship of one God. Although his religion cannot compare with
Christianity in purity and loftiness, yet it enforced a higher morality
than the old Arabian religions, and assimilated to Christianity in many
important respects. The chief fault we have to find in Mohammed was, the
propagation of his doctrines by the sword, and the use of wicked means
to bring about a good end. The truths he declared have had an immense
influence on Asiatic nations, and these have given vitality to his
system, if we accept the position that truth alone has vitality.
One remarkable fact stands out for the world to ponder,--that, for more
than fourteen hundred years, one hundred and eighty millions (more than
a sixth part of the human race) have adopted and cherished the religion
of Mohammed; that Christianity never had so astonishing a triumph; and
that even the adherents of Christianity, in many countries, have not
manifested the zeal of the Mohammedans in most of the countries where it
has been acknowledged. Now these startling facts can be explained only
on the ground that Mohammedanism has great vital religious and moral
truths underlying its system which appeal to the consciousness of
mankind, or else that these truths are so blended with dangerous errors
which appeal to depraved passions and interests, that the religion
spread in consequence of these errors rather than of the truth itself.
The question to be considered, then, is whether Mohammedanism spread in
consequence of its truths or in consequence of its errors.
In order to appreciate the influence of the Arabian prophet, we are
first led into the inquiry whether his religion was really an
improvement on the old systems which previously prevailed in Arabia. If
it was, he must be regarded as a benefactor and reformer, even if we
admit the glaring evils of his system, when measured by the purer
religion of the Cross. And it then simply becomes a question whether it
is better to have a prevalent corrupted system of religion containing
many important truths, or a system of downright paganism with few
truths at all.
In examining the religious systems of Arabia in the age preceding the
advent of the Prophet, it would seem that the most prominent of them
were the old doctrines of the Magians and Sabaeans, blended with a gross
idolatry and a senseless polytheism. Whatever may have been the faith of
the ancient Sabaean sages, who noted the aspects of the stars, and
supposed they were inhabited by angels placed there by Almighty power to
supervise and govern the universe, yet history seems to record that
this ancient faith was practically subverted, and that the stars, where
were supposed to dwell deities to whom prayers were made, became
themselves objects of worship, and even graven images were made in honor
of them. Among the Arabs each tribe worshipped a particular star, and
set up its particular idol, so that a degrading polytheism was the
religion of the land. The object of greatest veneration was the
celebrated Black Stone, at Mecca, fabled to have fallen from heaven at
the same time with Adam. Over this stone was built the Kaabah, a small
oblong stone building, around which has been since built the great
mosque. It was ornamented with three hundred and sixty idols. The
guardianship of this pagan temple was intrusted to the most ancient and
honorable families of Mecca, and to it resorted innumerable pilgrims
bringing precious offerings. It was like the shrine of Delphi, as a
source of profit to its fortunate guardians.
Thus before Mohammed appeared polytheism was the prevalent religion of
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CARMEN
by Prosper Merimee
Translated by Lady Mary Loyd
CHAPTER I
I had always suspected the geographical authorities did not know what
they were talking about when they located the battlefield of Munda in
the county of the Bastuli-Poeni, close to the modern Monda, some two
leagues north of Marbella.
According to my own surmise, founded on the text of the anonymous author
of the _Bellum Hispaniense_, and on certain information culled from the
excellent library owned by the Duke of Ossuna, I believed the site of
the memorable struggle in which Caesar played double or quits, once and
for all, with the champions of the Republic, should be sought in the
neighbourhood of Montilla.
Happening to be in Andalusia during the autumn of 1830, I made a
somewhat lengthy excursion, with the object of clearing up certain
doubts which still oppressed me. A paper which I shall shortly publish
will, I trust, remove any hesitation that may still exist in the minds
of all honest archaeologists. But before that dissertation of mine
finally settles the geographical problem on the solution of which the
whole of learned Europe hangs, I desire to relate a little tale. It will
do no prejudice to the interesting question of the correct locality of
Monda.
I had hired a guide and a couple of horses at Cordova, and had
started on my way with no luggage save a few shirts, and Caesar's
_Commentaries_. As I wandered, one day, across the higher lands of the
Cachena plain, worn with fatigue, parched with thirst, scorched by a
burning sun, cursing Caesar and Pompey's sons alike, most heartily, my
eye lighted, at some distance from the path I was following, on a little
stretch of green sward dotted with reeds and rushes. That betokened the
neighbourhood of some spring, and, indeed, as I drew nearer I perceived
that what had looked like sward was a marsh, into which a stream, which
seemed to issue from a narrow gorge between two high spurs of the Sierra
di Cabra, ran and disappeared.
If I rode up that stream, I argued, I was likely to find cooler water,
fewer leeches and frogs, and mayhap a little shade among the rocks.
At the mouth of the gorge, my horse neighed, and another horse,
invisible to me, neighed back. Before I had advanced a hundred paces,
the gorge suddenly widened, and I beheld a sort of natural amphitheatre,
thoroughly shaded by the steep cliffs that lay all around it. It was
impossible to imagine any more delightful halting place for a traveller.
At the foot of the precipitous rocks, the stream bubbled upward and fell
into a little basin, lined with sand that was as white as snow. Five or
six splendid evergreen oaks, sheltered from the wind, and cooled by the
spring, grew beside the pool, and shaded it with their thick foliage.
And round about it a close and glossy turf offered the wanderer a better
bed than he could have found in any hostelry for ten leagues round.
The honour of discovering this fair spot did not belong to me. A man was
resting there already--sleeping, no doubt--before I reached it. Roused
by the neighing of the horses, he had risen to his feet and had moved
over to his mount, which had been taking advantage of its master's
slumbers to make a hearty feed on the grass that grew around. He was an
active young fellow, of middle height, but powerful in build, and proud
and sullen-looking in expression. His complexion, which may once have
been fine, had been tanned by the sun till it was darker than his hair.
One of his hands grasped his horse's halter. In the other he held a
brass blunderbuss.
At the first blush, I confess, the blunderbuss, and the savage looks
of the man who bore it, somewhat took me aback. But I had heard so much
about robbers, that, never seeing any, I had ceased to believe in their
existence. And further, I had seen so many honest farmers arm themselves
to the teeth before they went out to market, that the sight of firearms
gave me no warrant for doubting the character of any stranger. "And
then," quoth I to myself, "what could he do with my shirts and my
Elzevir edition of Caesar's _Commentaries_?" So I bestowed a friendly
nod on the man with the blunderbuss, and inquired, with a smile, whether
I had disturbed his nap. Without any answer, he looked me over from
head to foot. Then, as if the scrutiny had satisfied him, he looked as
closely at my guide, who was just coming up. I saw the guide turn pale,
and pull up with an air of evident alarm. "An unlucky meeting!" thought
I to myself. But prudence instantly counselled me not to let any symptom
of anxiety escape me. So I dismounted. I told the guide to take off the
horses' bridles, and kneeling down beside the spring, I laved my head
and hands and then drank a long draught, lying flat on my belly, like
Gideon's soldiers.
Meanwhile, I watched the stranger, and my own guide. This last seemed to
come forward unwillingly. But the other did not appear to have any evil
designs upon us. For he had turned his horse loose, and the blunderbuss,
which he had been holding horizontally, was now dropped earthward.
Not thinking it necessary to take offence at the scant attention paid
me, I stretched myself full length upon the grass, and calmly asked the
owner of the blunderbuss whether he had a light about him. At the same
time I pulled out my cigar-case. The stranger, still without opening his
lips, took out his flint, and lost no time in getting me a light. He was
evidently growing tamer, for he sat down opposite to me, though he still
grasped his weapon. When I had lighted my cigar, I chose out the best I
had left, and asked him whether he smoked.
"Yes, senor," he replied. These were the first words I had heard him
speak, and I noticed that he did not pronounce the letter _s_* in the
Andalusian fashion, whence I concluded he was a traveller, like myself,
though, maybe, somewhat less of an archaeologist.
* The Andalusians aspirate the _s_, and pronounce it like
the soft _c_ and the _z_, which Spaniards pronounce like the
English _th_. An Andalusian may always be recognised by the
way in which he says _senor_.
"You'll find this a fairly good one," said I, holding out a real Havana
regalia.
He bowed his head slightly, lighted his cigar at mine, thanked me
with another nod, and began to smoke with a most lively appearance of
enjoyment.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, as he blew his first puff of smoke slowly out of his
ears and nostrils. "What a time it is since I've had a smoke!"
In Spain the giving and accepting of a cigar establishes bonds of
hospitality similar to those founded in Eastern countries on the
partaking of bread and salt. My friend turned out more talkative than
I had hoped. However, though he claimed to belong to the _partido_ of
Montilla, he seemed very ill-informed about the country. He did not know
the name of the delightful valley in which we were sitting, he could
not tell me the names of any of the neighbouring villages, and when I
inquired whether he had not noticed any broken-down walls, broad-rimmed
tiles, or carved stones in the vicinity, he confessed he had never paid
any heed to such matters. On the other hand, he showed himself an expert
in horseflesh, found fault with my mount--not a difficult affair--and
gave me a pedigree of his own, which had come from the famous stud at
Cordova. It was a splendid creature, indeed, so tough, according to
its owner's claim, that it had once covered thirty leagues in one day,
either at the gallop or at full trot the whole time. In the midst of his
story the stranger pulled up short, as if startled and sorry he had said
so much. "The fact is I was in a great hurry to get to Cordova," he
went on, somewhat embarrassed. "I had to petition the judges about a
lawsuit." As he spoke, he looked at my guide Antonio, who had dropped
his eyes.
The spring and the cool shade were so delightful that I bethought me
of certain slices of an excellent ham, which my friends at Montilla had
packed into my guide's wallet. I bade him produce them, and invited the
stranger to share our impromptu lunch. If he had not smoked for a long
time, he certainly struck me as having fasted for eight-and-forty hours
at the very least. He ate like a starving wolf, and I thought to myself
that my appearance must really have been quite providential for the poor
fellow. Meanwhile my guide ate but little, drank still less, and spoke
never a word, although in the earlier part of our journey he had proved
himself a most unrivalled chatterer. He seemed ill at ease in the
presence of our guest, and a sort of mutual distrust, the cause of which
I could not exactly fathom, seemed to be between them.
The last crumbs of bread and scraps of ham had disappeared. We had each
smoked our second cigar; I told the guide to bridle the horses, and was
just about to take leave of my new friend, when he inquired where I was
going to spend the night.
Before I had time to notice a sign my guide was making to me I had
replied that I was going to the Venta del Cuervo.
"That's a bad lodging for a gentleman like you, sir! I'm bound there
myself, and if you'll allow me to ride with you, we'll go together."
"With pleasure!" I replied, mounting my horse. The guide, who was
holding my stirrup, looked at me meaningly again. I answered by
shrugging my shoulders, as though to assure him I was perfectly easy in
my mind, and we started on our way.
Antonio's mysterious signals, his evident anxiety, a few words dropped
by the stranger, above all, his ride of thirty leagues, and the far from
plausible explanation he had given us of it, had already enabled me
to form an opinion as to the identity of my fellow-traveller. I had
no doubt at all I was in the company of a smuggler, and possibly of a
brigand. What cared I? I knew enough of the Spanish character to be very
certain I had nothing to fear from a man who had eaten and smoked
with me. His very presence would protect me in case of any undesirable
meeting. And besides, I was very glad to know what a brigand was really
like. One doesn't come across such gentry every day. And there is a
certain charm about finding one's self in close proximity to a dangerous
being, especially when one feels the being in question to be gentle and
tame.
I was hoping the stranger might gradually fall into a confidential
mood, and in spite of my guide's winks, I turned the conversation to
the subject of highwaymen. I need scarcely say that I spoke of them with
great respect. At that time there was a famous brigand in Andalusia, of
the name of Jose-Maria, whose exploits were on every lip. "Supposing I
should be riding along with Jose-Maria!" said I to myself. I told all
the stories I knew about the hero--they were all to his credit, indeed,
and loudly expressed my admiration of his generosity and his valour.
"Jose-Maria is nothing but a blackguard," said the stranger gravely.
"Is he just to himself, or is this an excess of modesty?" I queried,
mentally, for by dint of scrutinizing my companion, I had ended by
reconciling his appearance with the description of Jose-Maria which I
read posted up on the gates of various Andalusian towns. "Yes, this must
be he--fair hair, blue eyes, large mouth, good teeth, small hands, fine
shirt, a velvet jacket with silver buttons on it, white leather gaiters,
and a bay horse. Not a doubt about it. But his _incognito_ shall be
respected!" We reached the _venta_. It was just what he had described
to me. In other words, the most wretched hole of its kind I had as yet
beheld. One large apartment served as kitchen, dining-room, and sleeping
chamber. A fire was burning on a flat stone in the middle of the room,
and the smoke escaped through a hole in the roof, or rather hung in a
cloud some feet above the soil. Along the walls five or six mule rugs
were spread on the floor. These were the travellers' beds. Twenty paces
from the house, or rather from the solitary apartment which I have just
described, stood a sort of shed, that served for a stable.
The only inhabitants of this delightful dwelling visible at the moment,
at all events, were an old woman, and a little girl of ten or twelve
years old, both of them as black as soot, and dressed in loathsome rags.
"Here's the sole remnant of the ancient populations of Munda Boetica,"
said I to myself. "O Caesar! O Sextus Pompeius, if you were to revisit
this earth how astounded you would be!"
When the old woman saw my travelling companion an exclamation of
surprise escaped her. "Ah! Senor Don Jose!" she cried.
Don Jose frowned and lifted his hand with a gesture of authority that
forthwith silenced the old dame.
I turned to my guide and gave him to understand, by a sign that no one
else perceived, that I knew all about the man in whose company I was
about to spend the night. Our supper was better than I expected. On
a little table, only a foot high, we were served with an old rooster,
fricasseed with rice and numerous peppers, then more peppers in oil,
and finally a _gaspacho_--a sort of salad made of peppers. These three
highly spiced dishes involved our frequent recourse to a goatskin filled
with Montella wine, which struck us as being delicious.
After our meal was over, I caught sight of a mandolin hanging up against
the wall--in Spain you see mandolins in every corner--and I asked the
little girl, who had been waiting on us, if she knew how to play it.
"No," she replied. "But Don Jose does play well!"
"Do me the kindness to sing me something," I said to him, "I'm
passionately fond of your national music."
"I can't refuse to do anything for such a charming gentleman, who gives
me such excellent cigars," responded Don Jose gaily, and having made
the child give him the mandolin, he sang to his own accompaniment. His
voice, though rough, was pleasing, the air he sang was strange and sad.
As to the words, I could not understand a single one of them.
"If I am not mistaken," said I, "that's not a Spanish air you have just
been singing. It's like the _zorzicos_ I've heard in the Provinces,* and
the words must be in the Basque language."
* The _privileged Provinces_, Alava, Biscay, Guipuzcoa, and a part of
Navarre, which all enjoy special _fueros_. The Basque language is spoken
in these countries.
"Yes," said Don Jose, with a gloomy look. He laid the mand | 2,297.459703 |
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Produced by Dagny, Bonnie Sala
MELMOTH RECONCILED
By Honore De Balzac
Translated by Ellen Marriage
To Monsieur le General Baron de Pommereul, a token of the friendship
between our fathers, which survives in their sons.
DE BALZAC.
MELMOTH RECONCILED
There is a special variety of human nature obtained in the Social
Kingdom by a process analogous to that of the gardener's craft in the
Vegetable Kingdom, to wit, by the forcing-house--a species of hybrid
which can be raised neither from seed nor from slips. This product is
known as the Cashier, an anthropomorphous growth, watered by religious
doctrine, trained up in fear of the guillotine, pruned by vice, to
flourish on a third floor with an estimable wife by his side and an
uninteresting family. The number of cashiers in Paris must always be
a problem for the physiologist. Has any one as yet been able to state
correctly the terms of the proportion sum wherein the cashier figures as
the unknown _x_? Where will you find the man who shall live with wealth,
like a cat with a caged mouse? This man, for further qualification,
shall be capable of sitting boxed in behind an iron grating for seven
or eight hours a day during seven-eighths of the year, perched upon a
cane-seated chair in a space as narrow as a lieutenant's cabin on board
a man-of-war. Such a man must be able to defy anchylosis of the knee
and thigh joints; he must have a soul above meanness, in order to live
meanly; must lose all relish for money by dint of handling it. Demand
this peculiar specimen of any creed, educational system, school, or
institution you please, and select Paris, that city of fiery ordeals
and branch establishment of hell, as the soil in which to plant the said
cashier. So be it. Creeds, schools, institutions and moral systems, all
human rules and regulations, great and small, will, one after another,
present much the same face that an intimate friend turns upon you when
you ask him to lend you a thousand francs. With a dolorous dropping of
the jaw, they indicate the guillotine, much as your friend aforesaid
will furnish you with the address of the money-lender, pointing you to
one of the hundred gates by which a man comes to the last refuge of the
destitute.
Yet nature has her freaks in the making of a man's mind; she indulges
herself and makes a few honest folk now and again, and now and then a
cashier.
Wherefore, that race of corsairs whom we dignify with the title of
bankers, the gentry who take out a license for which they pay a thousand
crowns, as the privateer takes out his letters of marque, hold these
rare products of the incubations of virtue in such esteem that they
confine them in cages in their counting-houses, much as governments
procure and maintain specimens of strange beasts at their own charges.
If the cashier is possessed of an imagination or of a fervid
temperament; if, as will sometimes happen to the most complete cashier,
he loves his wife, and that wife grows tired of her lot, has ambitions,
or merely some vanity in her composition, the cashier is undone.
Search the chronicles of the counting-house. You will not find a single
instance of a cashier attaining _a position_, as it is called. They are
sent to the hulks; they go to foreign parts; they vegetate on a second
floor in the Rue Saint-Louis among the market gardens of the Marais.
Some day, when the cashiers of Paris come to a sense of their real
value, a cashier will be hardly obtainable for money. Still, certain
it is that there are people who are fit for nothing but to be cashiers,
just as the bent of a certain order of mind inevitably makes for
rascality. But, | 2,297.555662 |
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[Frontispiece: "'Tis the star-spangled banner: O, long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!"]
HERO STORIES
FROM AMERICAN HISTORY
_FOR ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS_
BY
ALBERT F. BLAISDELL
AUTHOR OF "STORIES FROM ENGLISH HISTORY," "THE STORY OF AMERICAN
HISTORY," ETC., ETC.
AND
FRANCIS K. BALL
INSTRUCTOR IN THE PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY
GINN AND COMPANY
BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. LONDON
ATLANTA. DALLAS. COLUMBUS. SAN FRANCISCO
ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY ALBERT F. BLAISDELL AND FRANCIS K. BALL
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
The Athenaeum Press
GINN AND COMPANY. PROPRIETORS. BOSTON. U.S.A.
TO
Edwin Ginn
FINANCIER EDUCATOR PHILANTHROPIST
PREFACE
This book is intended to be used as a supplementary historical reader
for the sixth and seventh grades of our public schools, or for any
other pupils from twelve to fifteen years of age. It is also designed
for collateral reading in connection with the study of a formal
text-book on American history.
The period here included is the first fifty years of our national
life. No attempt has been made, however, to present a connected
account, or to furnish a bird's-eye view, of this half century.
It is the universal testimony of experienced teachers that such
materials as are pervaded with reality serve a useful purpose with
young pupils. The reason is plain. Historical matter that is instinct
with human life attracts and holds the attention of boys and girls,
and whets their desire to know more of the real meaning of their
country's history. For this reason the authors have selected rapid
historical narratives, treating of notable and dramatic events, and
have embellished them with more details than is feasible within the
limits of most school-books. Free use has been made of personal
incidents and anecdotes, which thrill us because of their human
element, and smack of the picturesque life of our forefathers.
It has seemed advisable to arrange the subjects in chronological
order. As the various chapters have appeared in proof, they have been
put to a practical test in the sixth grade in several grammar
schools. In a number of instances the pupils learned that, in the
first reading, some of the stories were less difficult than others.
From the nature of the subject-matter this is inevitable. For
instance, it was found easier, and doubtless more interesting, to
read "The Patriot Spy" and "A Daring Exploit" before beginning "The
Hero of Vincennes" and "The Crisis." "Old Ironsides" will at first
probably appeal to more young people than "The Final Victory."
An historical reader would truly be of little value if it could be
read at a glance, like so many insipid storybooks, and then thrown
aside.
Hence, it is suggested that teachers, after becoming familiar with
the general scope of this book and gauging with some care the
capabilities of their pupils, should, if they find it for the best
interests of their classes, change the order of the chapters for the
first reading. But in the second, or review reading, they should
follow the chronological order.
The attention of teachers is called to the questions for review, the
pronunciation of proper names, and the reference books and
supplementary reading in American history mentioned after the
chapters below. The index (also below) is made full for purposes of
reference and review.
In the preparation of this book, old journals, original records and
documents, and sundry other trustworthy sources have been diligently
consulted and freely utilized.
We would acknowledge our indebtedness to Mrs. Janet Nettleton Ball,
who has aided us materially at several stages of our work; and to Mr.
Ralph Hartt Bowles, Instructor in English in The Phillips Exeter
Academy, for valuable assistance in reading the manuscript and the
proofs.
ALBERT F. BLAISDELL,
FRANCIS K. BALL.
BOSTON, March, 1903.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
THE HERO OF VINCENNES............... 1
CHAPTER II
A MIDWINTER CAMPAIGN ............... 18
CHAPTER III
HOW PALMETTO LOGS MAY BE USED........... 36
CHAPTER IV
THE PATRIOT SPY.................. 50
CHAPTER V
OUR GREATEST PATRIOT ............... 62
CHAPTER VI
A MIDNIGHT SURPRISE................ 77
CHAPTER VII
THE DEFEAT OF THE RED DRAGOONS .......... 90
CHAPTER VIII
FROM TEAMSTER TO MAJOR GENERAL .......... 105
CHAPTER IX
THE FINAL VICTORY................. 123
CHAPTER X
THE CRISIS .................... 138
CHAPTER XI
A DARING EXPLOIT ................. 156
CHAPTER XII
"OLD IRONSIDES".................. 169
CHAPTER XIII
"OLD HICKORY'S" CHRISTMAS............. 185
CHAPTER XIV
A HERO'S WELCOME ................. 199
* * * * * *
QUESTIONS FOR REVIEW ............... 217
PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES........... 231
BOOKS FOR REFERENCE AND READING IN THE STUDY OF
AMERICAN HISTORY ................ 233
INDEX....................... 241
{1}
HERO STORIES FROM AMERICAN HISTORY
CHAPTER I
THE HERO OF VINCENNES
Early in 1775 Daniel Boone, the famous hunter and Indian fighter,
with thirty other backwoodsmen, set out from the Holston settlements
to clear the first trail, or bridle path, to what is now Kentucky. In
the spring of the same year, George Rogers Clark, although a young
fellow of only twenty-three years, tramped through the wilderness
alone. When he reached the frontier settlements, he at once became
the leader of the little band of pioneers.
One evening in the autumn of 1775, Clark and his companions were
sitting round their camp fire in the wilderness. They had just drawn
the lines for a fort, and were busy talking about it, when a
messenger came with tidings of the bloodshed at Lexington, in
far-away Massachusetts. With wild cheers these hunters listened to
the story of the minutemen, and, in honor of the event, named their
log fort "Lexington."
[Illustration: A Minuteman of 1776]
{2} At the close of this eventful year, three hundred resolute men
had gained a foothold in Kentucky. In the trackless wilderness,
hemmed in by savage foes, these pioneers with their wives and their
children began their struggle for a home. In one short year, this
handful of men along the western border were drawn into the midst of
the war of the Revolution. From now on, the East and the West had
each its own work to do. While Washington and his "ragged
Continentals" fought for our independence, "the rear guard of the
Revolution," as the frontiersmen were called, were not less busy.
Under their brave leaders, Boone, Clark, and Harrod, in half a dozen
little blockhouses and settlements, they were laying the foundations
of a great commonwealth, while between them and the nearest eastern
settlements were two hundred miles of wilderness. The struggle became
so desperate in the fall of 1776 that Clark tramped back to Virginia,
to ask the governor for help and to trade for powder.
Virginia was at this time straining every nerve to do her part in the
fight against Great Britain, and could not spare men to defend her
distant county of Kentucky; {3} but, won by Clark's earnest appeal,
the governor lent him, on his own personal security, five hundred
pounds of powder. After many thrilling adventures and sharp fighting
with the Indians, Clark got the powder down the Ohio River, and
distributed it among the settlers. The war with their savage foes was
now carried on with greater vigor than ever.
Now we must remember that the vast region north of the Ohio was at
this time a part of Canada. In this wilderness of forests and
pr | 2,297.556876 |
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Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net.
SUMMER CRUISE
IN
THE MEDITERRANEAN.
SUMMER CRUISE
IN
THE MEDITERRANEAN
ON BOARD AN AMERICAN FRIGATE.
BY
N. PARKER WILLIS.
LONDON:
T. BOSWORTH, 215, REGENT STREET.
1853.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS
PREFACE.
* * * * *
Of one of the most delicious episodes in a long period of foreign
travel, this volume is the imperfect and hastily written transcript.
Even at the time it was written, the author felt its experience to be a
dream—so exempt was it from the interrupting and qualifying drawbacks
of happiness in common and working life—but, now, after an interval of
many years, it seems indeed like a dream, and one so full of unmingled
pleasure, that its telling almost wants the contrast of a sadness. Of
the noble ship, whose summer cruise is described, and her kind and
hospitable officers, the recollection is as fresh and grateful now, as
when, (twenty years ago,) the author bade them farewell in the port of
Smyrna. Of the scenes he passed through, while their guest, he has a
less perfect remembrance—relying indeed on these chance memoranda, for
much that would else be forgotten. It is with a mingled sense of the
real and the unreal, therefore, that the book is offered, in a new
shape, to the Public, whose approbation has encouraged its long
existence, and the author trusts that his thanks to the surviving
officers of that ship may again reach them, and that the kind favour of
the reading Public may be again extended to this his record of what he
saw in the company of these officers, and by their generous hospitality.
HIGHLAND TERRACE,
_October, 1852_.
CONTENTS.
* * * * *
LETTER I.
Cruise in the Frigate “United States”—Elba—Piombino—Porto
Ferrajo—Appearance of the Bay—Naval Discipline—Visit to the
Town Residence of Napoleon—His Employment during his
Confinement on the Island—His sisters Eliza and Pauline—His
Country House—Simplicity of the Inhabitants of Elba 1
LETTER II.
Visit to Naples, Herculaneum, and Pompeii 7
LETTER III.
Account of Vesuvius—The Hermitage—The famous Lagrima
Christi—Difficulties of the Path—Curious Appearance of the Old
Crater—Odd Assemblage of Travellers—The New Crater—Splendid
Prospect—Mr. Mathias, Author of the Pursuits of Literature—The
Archbishop of Tarento 16
LETTER IV.
The Fashionable World of Naples at the Races—Brilliant Show of
Equipages—The King and his Brother—Rank and Character of the
Jockeys—Description of the Races—The Public Burial Ground at
Naples—Horrid and inhuman Spectacles—The Lazzaroni—The Museum
at Naples—Ancient Relics from Pompeii—Forks not used by the
Ancients—The Lamp lit at the time of our Saviour—The antique
Chair of Sallust—The Villa of Cicero—The Balbi Family—Bacchus
on the Shoulders of a Faun—Gallery of Dians, Cupids, Joves,
Mercuries, and Apollos, Statue of Aristides, &c. 23
LETTER V.
Pæstum—Temple of Neptune—Departure from Elba—Ischia—Bay of
Naples—The Toledo—The Young Queen—Conspiracy against the
King—Neapolitans Visiting the Frigates—Leave the
Bay—Castellamare 32
LETTER VI.
Baiæ—Grotto of Posilipo—Tomb of Virgil—Pozzuoli—Ruins of the
Temple of Jupiter Serapis—The Lucrine Lake—Late of Avernus,
the Tartarus of Virgil—Temple of Proserpine—Grotto of the
Cumæan Sybil—Nero’s villa—Cape of Misenum—Roman villas—Ruins
of the Temple of Venus—-Cento Camerelle—The Stygian Lake—The
Elysian Fields—Grotto del Cane—Villa of Lucullus 38
LETTER VII.
Island of Sicily—Palermo—Saracenic appearance of the
town—Cathedral—The Marina—Viceroy Leopold—Monastery of the
Capuchins—Celebrated Catacombs—Fanciful Gardens 45
LETTER VIII.
The Lunatic Asylum at Palermo 51
LETTER IX.
Palermo—Fête given by Mr. Gardiner, the American Consul—Temple
of Clitumnus—Cottage of Petrarch—Messina—Lipari
Islands—Scylla and Charybdis 57
LETTER X.
The Adriatic—Albania—Gay Costumes and Beauty of the
Albanese—Capo d’Istria—Trieste resembles an American
Town—Visit to the Austrian Authorities of the
Province—Curiosity of the Inhabitants—Gentlemanly Reception by
the Military Commandant—Visit to Vienna—Singular Notions of
the Austrians respecting the Americans—Similarity of the
Scenery to that of New England—Meeting with German
Students—Frequent Sight of Soldiers and Military
Preparation—Picturesque Scenery of Styria 63
LETTER XI.
Gratz—Vienna 70
LETTER XII.
Vienna—Magnificence of the Emperor’s Manège—The Young Queen of
Hungary—The Palace—Hall of Curiosities, Jewelry, &c.—The
Polytechnic School—Geometrical Figures described by the
Vibrations of Musical Notes—Liberal Provision for the Public
Institutions—Popularity of the Emperor 76
LETTER XIII.
Vienna—Palaces and Gardens—Mosaic Copy of Da Vinci’s “Last
Supper”—Collection of Warlike Antiquities; Scanderburg’s Sword,
Montezuma’s Tomahawk, Relics of the Crusaders, Warriors in
Armour, the Farmer of Augsburg—Room of Portraits of Celebrated
Individuals—Gold Busts of Jupiter and Juno—The Glacis, full of
Gardens, the General Resort of the People—Universal Spirit of
Enjoyment—Simplicity and Confidence in the Manners of the
Viennese—Baden 82
LETTER XIV.
Vienna—The Palace of Liechstenstein 87
LETTER XV.
The Palace of Schoenbrunn—Hietzing, the Summer Retreat of the
Wealthy Viennese—Country-House of the American Consul—Specimen
of Pure Domestic Happiness in a German Family—Splendid Village
Ball—Substantial Fare for the Ladies—Curious Fashion of
Cushioning the Windows—German Grief—The Upper Belvidere
Palace—Endless Quantity of Pictures 92
LETTER XVI.
Departure from Vienna—The Eil-Wagon—Motley quality of the
passengers—Thunderstorm in the Mountains of
Styria—Trieste—Short Beds of the Germans—Grotto of
Adelsburgh—Curious Ball-Room in the Cavern—Nautical
preparations for a Dance on board the “United States” swept away
by the Bora—Its successful Termination 98
LETTER XVII.
Trieste, its Extensive Commerce—Hospitality of Mr. Moore—Ruins
of Pola—Immense Amphitheatre—Village of Pola—Coast of
Dalmatia, of Apulia and Calabria—Otranto—Sails for the Isles
of Greece 106
LETTER XVIII.
The Ionian Isles—Lord and Lady Nugent—Corfu—Greek and English
Soldiers—Cockneyism—The Gardens of Alcinous—English
Officers—Albanians—Dionisio Salomos, the Greek Poet—Greek
Ladies—Dinner with the Artillery Mess 110
LETTER XIX.
Corfu—Unpopularity of British Rule—Superstition of the
Greeks—Accuracy of the Descriptions in the Odyssey—Advantage
of the Greek Costume—The Paxian Isles—Cape Leucas, or Sappho’s
Leap—Bay of Navarino, Ancient Pylos—Modon—Coran’s Bay—Cape
St. Angelo—Isle of Cythera 115
LETTER XX.
The Harbour of Napoli—Tricoupi and Mavrocordato, Otho’s Cabinet
Councillors—Colonel Gordon—King Otho—The Misses
Armanspergs—Prince of Saxe—Miaulis, the Greek
Admiral—Excursion to Argos, the ancient Terynthus 122
LETTER XXI.
Visit from King Otho and Miaulis—Visit an English and Russian
Frigate—Beauty of the Greek men—Lake Lerna—The Hermionicus
Sinus—Hydra—Ægina 129
LETTER XXII.
The Maid of Athens—Romance and Reality—American Benefactions
to Greece—A Greek Wife and Scottish Husband—School of Capo
d’Istrias—Grecian Disinterestedness—Ruins of the most Ancient
Temple—Beauty of the Grecian Landscape—Hope for the Land of
Epaminondas and Aristides 134
LETTER XXIII.
Athens—Ruins of the Parthenon—The Acropolis—Temple of
Theseus—The Oldest of Athenian Antiquities—Burial-Place of the
Son of Miaulis—Reflections on Standing where Plato taught, and
Demosthenes harangued—Bavarian Sentinel—Turkish Mosque,
erected within the Sanctuary of the Parthenon—Wretched
Habitations of the Modern Athenians 139
LETTER XXIV.
The “Lantern of Demosthenes”—Byron’s Residence in
Athens—Temple of Jupiter Olympus, Seven Hundred Years in
Building—Superstitious Fancy of the Athenians respecting its
Ruins—Hermitage of a Greek Monk—Petarches, the Antiquary and
Poet, and his Wife, Sister to the “Maid of Athens”—Mutilation
of a Basso Relievo by an English Officer—The Elgin Marbles—The
Caryatides—Lord Byron’s Autograph—Attachment of the Greeks to
Dr. Howe—The Sliding Stone—A Scene in the Rostrum of
Demosthenes 145
LETTER XXV.
The Prison of Socrates—Turkish Stirrups and Saddles—Plato’s
Academy—The American Missionary School at Athens—The Son of
Petarches, and Nephew of “Mrs. Black of Ægina” 150
LETTER XXVI.
The Piræus—The Sacra Via—Ruins of Eleusis—Gigantic
Medallion—Costume of the Athenian Women—The Tomb of
Themistocles—The Temple of Minerva—Autographs 155
LETTER XXVII.
Mytilene—The Tomb of Achilles—Turkish Burying Ground—Lost
Reputation of the Scamander—Asiatic Sunsets—Visit to a Turkish
Bey—The Castles of the Dardanelles—Turkish Bath, and its
Consequences 160
LETTER XXVIII.
A Turkish Pic-Nic on the plain of Troy—Fingers v.
Forks—Trieste—The Boschetto—Graceful Freedom of Italian
Manners—A Rural Fête—Fireworks—Amateur Musicians 166
LETTER XXIX.
The Dardanelles—Visit from the Pacha—His Delight at hearing
the Piano—Turkish Fountains—Caravan of Mules laden with
Grapes—Turkish Mode of Living—Houses, Cafés, and Women—The
Mosque and the Muezzin—American Consul of the Dardanelles,
another “Caleb Quotem” 171
LETTER XXX.
Turkish Military Life—A Visit to the Camp—Turkish
Music—Sunsets—The Sea of Marmora 179
LETTER XXXI.
Gallipoli—Aristocracy of Beards—Turkish Shopkeepers—The
Hospitable Jew and his lovely Daughter—Unexpected
Rencontre—Constantinople—The Bosphorus, the Seraglio, and the
Golden Horn 184
LETTER XXXII.
Constantinople—An Adventure with the Dogs of Stamboul—The
Sultan’s Kiosk—The Bazaars—Georgians—Sweetmeats—Hindoostanee
Fakeers—Turkish Women and their Eyes—The Jews—A Token of
Home—The Drug Bazaar—Opium Eaters 190
LETTER XXXIII.
The Sultan’s Perfumer—Etiquette of Smoking—Temptations for
Purchasers—Exquisite Flavour of the Turkish Perfumes—The Slave
Market of Constantinople—Slaves from various Countries, Greek,
Circassian, Egyptian, Persian—African Female Slaves—An
Improvisatrice—Exposure for Sale—Circassian Beauties
prohibited to Europeans—First sight of one, eating a Pie—Shock
to Romantic Feelings—Beautiful Arab Girl chained to the
Floor—The Silk Merchant—A cheap Purchase 196
LETTER XXXIV.
The Bosphorus—Turkish Palaces—The Black
Sea—Buyukdere 201
LETTER XXXV.
The Golden Horn and its Scenery—The Sultan’s Wives and
Arabians—The Valley of Sweet Waters—Beauty of the Turkish
Minarets—The Mosque of Sulymanye—Mussulmans at their
Devotions—The Muezzin—The Bazaar of the Opium-eaters—the Mad
House of Constantinople, and Description of its inmates—Their
Wretched Treatment—The Hippodrome and the Mosque of Sultan
Achmet—The Janizaries—Reflections on the Past, the Present,
and the Future 207
LETTER XXXVI.
Sultan Mahmoud at his Devotions—Comparative Splendour of Papal,
Austrian, and Turkish Equipages—The Sultan’s Barge or
Caïque—Description of the Sultan—Visit to a Turkish
Lancasterian School—The Dancing Dervishes—Visit from the
Sultan’s Cabinet—The Seraskier and the Capitan Pacha—Humble
Origin of Turkish Dignitaries 215
LETTER XXXVII.
The Grand Bazaar of Constantinople, and its infinite Variety of
Wonders—Silent Shopkeepers—Female Curiosity—Adventure with a
Black-Eyed Stranger—The Bezestein—The Stronghold of
Orientalism—Picture of a Dragoman—The Kibaub-Shop—A Dinner
without Knives, Forks, or Chair—Cistern of the Thousand and One
Columns 223
LETTER XXXVIII.
Belgrade—The Cottage of Lady Montagu—Turkish
Cemeteries—Natural Taste of the Moslems for the Picturesque—A
Turkish Carriage—Washerwomen Surprised—Gigantic Forest
Trees—The Reservoir—Return to Constantinople 229
LETTER XXXIX.
Scutari—Tomb of the Sultana Valide—Mosque of the Howling
Dervishes—A Clerical Shoemaker—Visit to a Turkish
Cemetery—Bird’s-Eye View of Stamboul and its Environs—Seraglio
Point—The Seven Towers 234
LETTER XL.
Beauties of the Bosphorus—Summer-Palace of the
Sultan—Adventure with an old Turkish Woman—The Feast of
Bairam—The Sultan his own Butcher—His Evil Propensities—Visit
to the Mosques—A Formidable Dervish—Santa Sophia—Mosque of
Sultan Achmet—Traces of Christianity 240
LETTER XLI.
Unerring Detection of Foreigners—A Cargo of Odalisques—The
Fanar, or Quarter of the Greeks—Street of the
Booksellers—Aspect of Antiquity—Purchases—Charity for Dogs
and Pigeons—Punishment of Canicide—A Bridal
Procession—Turkish Female Physiognomy 245
LETTER XLII.
The Perfection of Bathing—Pipes—Downy
Cushions—Coffee—Rubbing Down—“Circular Justice,” as displayed
in the Retribution of Boiled Lobsters—A Deluge of Suds—The
Shampoo—Luxurious Helps to the Imagination—A Pedestrian
Excursion—Story of an American Tar, burdened with Small
Change—-Beauty of the Turkish Children—A Civilised
Monster—Glimpse of Sultan Mahmoud in an Ill-Humour 251
LETTER XLIII.
Punishment of Conjugal Infidelity—Drowning in the
Bosphorus—Frequency of its occurrence accounted for—A | 2,297.557022 |
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[Illustration: CLEVER HANS]
CLEVER HANS
(THE HORSE OF MR. VON OSTEN)
_A CONTRIBUTION TO EXPERIMENTAL
ANIMAL AND HUMAN
PSYCHOLOGY_
BY
OSKAR PFUNGST
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY PROF. C. STUMPF,
AND ONE ILLUSTRATION AND FIFTEEN FIGURES
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
BY
CARL L. RAHN
_Fellow in Psychology in the University of Chicago_
WITH A PREFATORY NOTE BY
JAMES R. ANGELL
_Professor of Psychology in the University of Chicago_
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1911
COPYRIGHT, 1911,
BY
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PREFATORY NOTE
[BY JAMES R. ANGELL]
_The University of Chicago_
It gives me great pleasure to accept the invitation of the publishers to
write a word of introduction for Mr. Rahn's excellent translation of
"Der Kluge Hans", a book which in the original has been but little known
to American readers. The present wave of interest in animal life and
behavior renders its appearance peculiarly appropriate.
No more remarkable tale of credulity founded on unconscious deceit was
ever told, and were it offered as fiction, it would take high rank as a
work of imagination. Being in reality a record of sober fact, it verges
on the miraculous. After reading Mr. Pfungst's story one can quite
understand how sedate and sober Germany was for months thrown into a
turmoil of newspaper debate, which for intensity and range of feeling
finds its only parallel in a heated political campaign. That the subject
of the controversy was the alleged ability of a trained horse to solve
complex arithmetical problems may excite gaiety and even derision, until
one hears the details. Scientists and scholars of the highest eminence
were drawn into the conflict, which has not yet wholly subsided,
although the present report must be regarded as quite final in its
verdict.
As for Hans himself, he has become the prototype of a host of less
distinguished imitators representing every level of animal life, and
when last heard from he was still entertaining mystified audiences by
his accomplishments.
But the permanent worth of the book is not to be found in its record of
popular excitement, interesting as that is. It is a document of the very
first consequence in its revelation of the workings of the animal mind
as disclosed in the horse. Animal lovers of all kinds, whether
scientists or laymen, will find in it material of greatest value for the
correct apprehension of animal behavior. Moreover, it affords an
illuminating insight into the technique of experimental psychology in
its study both of human and animal consciousness. Finally, it contains a
number of highly suggestive observations bearing on certain aspects of
telepathy and muscle-reading. All things considered, it may fairly be
said that few scientific books appeal to so various a range of interests
in so vital a way.
Readers who wish to inform themselves of all the personal circumstances
in the case may best read the text just as it stands. Those who desire
to get at the pith of the matter without reference to its historical
settings, may be advised to omit the Introduction by Professor Stumpf of
the University of Berlin, together with supplements II, III and IV.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFATORY NOTE (By JAMES R. ANGELL) v
INTRODUCTION (By C. STUMPF) 1
CHAPTER
I. THE PROBLEM OF ANIMAL CONSCIOUSNESS AND "CLEVER HANS" 15
II. EXPERIMENTS AND OBSERVATIONS 30
III. THE AUTHOR'S INTROSPECTIONS 88
IV. LABORATORY TESTS 102
V. EXPLANATION OF THE OBSERVATIONS 141
VI. GENESIS OF THE REACTION OF THE HORSE 212
CONCLUSION 240
SUPPLEMENTS:
I. MR. VON OSTEN'S METHOD OF INSTRUCTION (By C. STUMPF) 245
II. THE REPORT OF SEPTEMBER 12th, 1904 253
III. AN ABSTRACT FROM THE RECORDS OF THE
SEPTEMBER-COMMISSION 255
IV. THE REPORT OF DECEMBER 9th, 1904 261
TABLE OF REFERENCES 267
INTRODUCTION
[BY C. STUMPF]
A horse that solves correctly problems in multiplication and division by
means of tapping. Persons of unimpeachable honor, who in the master's
absence have received responses, and assure us that in the process they
have not made even the slightest sign. Thousands of spectators,
horse-fanciers, trick-trainers of first rank, and not one of them during
the course of many months' observations are able to discover any kind of
regular signal.
That was the riddle. And its solution was found in the unintentional
minimal movements of the horse's questioner.
Simple though it may seem, the history of the solution is nevertheless
quite complex, and one of the important incidents in it is the
appearance of the zooelogist and African traveler, Schillings, upon the
scene, and then there is the report of the so-called Hans-Commission of
September 12, 1904. And finally there is the scientific investigation,
the results of which were published in my report of December 9, 1904.
After a cursory inspection during the month of February, I again called
upon Mr. von Osten in July, and asked him to explain to Professor
Schumann and me just what method he had used in instructing the horse.
We hoped in this way to gain a clue to the mechanism of Hans's feats.
The most essential parts of the information thus gleaned are summarized
in Supplement I. Mr. Schillings came into the courtyard for the first
time about the middle of July. He came as skeptical as everyone else.
But after he, himself, had received correct responses, he too became
convinced, and devoted much of his time to exhibiting the horse, and
daily brought new guests. To be perfectly frank, at the time this seemed
to us a disturbing factor in the investigation, but now we see that his
intervention was a link in the chain of events which finally led to an
explanation. For it was through him that the fact was established beyond
cavil, that the horse was able to respond to strangers in the master's
absence. Heretofore, this had been noted only in isolated cases. Since
it could not be assumed that a well-known investigator should take it
upon himself to mislead the public by intentionally giving signs, the
case necessarily from that time on appeared in the eyes of others in a
light quite different from that in which ordinary circus-tricks would
appear, to which it bore such a striking external resemblance. No matter
how this state of affairs may have arisen in the course of years, no
matter how it might eventually be explained,--the quality of the
extraordinary would necessarily attach itself to this particular case,
as it did.
Of course, to many persons in the interested public the result was
merely that Schillings, also, was placed in the category of deceivers.
On the other hand there were reputable scientists who could not dispose
of the matter in that fashion, and these now openly took their stand
with Schillings and declared that they believed in the horse's ability
to think. Zooelogists especially, saw in von Osten's results evidence of
the essential similarity between the human and the animal mind, which
doctrine has been coming more and more into favor since the time of
Darwin. Educators were disposed to be convinced, on account of the
clever systematic method of instruction which had been used and which
had not, till then, been applied in the education of a horse. In
addition, there were many details which, it seemed, could not be
explained in any other way. So far as I myself was concerned, I was
ready to change my views with regard to the nature of animal
consciousness, as soon as a careful examination would show that nothing
else would explain the facts, except the assumption of the presence of
conceptual thinking. I had thought out the process hypothetically, i. e.,
how one might conceive of the rise of number concepts and arithmetical
calculation along the peculiar lines which had been followed in Hans's
education, and on the basis of the assumption that the beginnings of
conceptual thinking are present in animals. Also, I had too much faith
in human nature to fear lest nothing peculiarly human should remain
after the art of handling numbers should be shown to be common property
with the lower forms. But under no circumstances would I have undertaken
to make a public statement in favor of any particular view in this
extraordinary case, before a thorough investigation, in accordance with
scientific principles, had been made. I expressed this sentiment at the
time, and recommended the appointment of an investigating commission (in
the "Tag" of September 3, 1904).
The purpose of this commission was misunderstood, and therefore many
were disappointed with the report which it published, (Supplement II).
Some had been expecting a positive conclusive explanation; the
commission recommended further investigation. Some had asked for a
solution of the question whether or not the horse was able to think; the
commission maintained neither the one, nor the other. Some had indicated
as the main condition of a satisfactory investigation, that both Mr. von
Osten and Mr. Schillings be excluded from the tests; this was not done.
But the commission--which, by the way, did not give itself this name,
since it had been delegated by no one--undoubtedly had the right to
formulate its problem as it saw fit, and this was carefully expressed at
the beginning of its report as follows: "The undersigned came together
for the purpose of investigating the question whether or not there is
involved in the feats of the horse of Mr. von Osten anything of the
nature of tricks, that is, intentional influence or aid on the part of
the questioner." It was this preliminary question, and not whether or
not the horse could think, which the commission intended to answer. They
proposed to act as a sort of court of honor for the two gentlemen who
had been attacked. It is only in this light that even the _raison
d'etre_ of this body can be understood; for a scientific commission
composed of thirteen men, possessed of varying degrees of scientific
preparation, would have been an absurd travesty, and it will readily be
seen why the two men, who had been attacked, should not be excluded,
since it was they, and primarily Mr. von Osten, upon whom the
observations were to be made.
To be sure the commission did go one step beyond that which it had
proposed to itself, since it added that it believed that unintentional
signs of the kind which are at present familiar, were also excluded.
This led many to the unwarranted conclusion that the commission had
declared that Hans was able to think. Whereas the thing which might have
been logically suggested was that instead of the assumption of the
presence of independent thinking, the commission may have had in mind
unintentional signs of a kind hitherto unknown. I explained this to a
reporter of the "Frankfurter Zeitung" (Mr. A. Gold), who had come to me
for information, and in his article he made this hypothesis appear as
the most probable one.[A] Certain statements of the circus-manager
Busch, who speaks of a 'connection' of some sort, go to show that other
members of the commission held to the view just stated.
[Footnote A: "Frankfurter Zeitung" of September 22, 1904:
"Concerning the question whether the horse was given some sort of
aid, Professor Stumpf expressed himself freely. He said: 'We were
careful to state in our report that the intentional use of the
(actual) means of training, on the part of the horse's teacher, is
out of the question,... nor are there involved any of the known
kinds of unconscious, involuntary aids. Our task was completed after
we had ascertained that no tricks or aids of the traditional sort
were being employed'." After some remarks on unconscious habituation
and self-training on the part of animals, the writer arrives at the
conclusion that "the horse of Mr. von Osten has been educated by its
master in the most round-about way, in accordance with a method
suited for the development of human reasoning powers, hence in all
good faith, to give correct responses by means of tapping with the
foot. But what the horse really learned by this wearisome process
was something quite different, something that was more in accord
with his natural capacities,--he learned to discover by purely
sensory aids which are so near the threshold that they are
imperceptible for us and even for the teacher, when he is expected
to tap with his foot and when he is to come to rest."]
But how did it come to pass that the commission should deny completely
the presence of intentional signals, while, as regards the unintended,
it excluded only those which were of the known sort? The report clearly
shows that the decision as to the absence of voluntary signals was
based not merely upon the fact that no such signals had been detected by
the most expert observers, but also upon the character of the two men
who exhibited the horse, upon their behavior during the entire period,
and upon the method of instruction which Mr. von Osten had employed. In
the case of unintentional signs, on the other hand, one had to deal with
the fact with which physiologists and experimental psychologists are
especially familiar, viz., that our conscious states, without our
willing it--indeed, even in spite of us--are accompanied by bodily
changes which very often can be detected only by the use of extremely
fine graphic methods. The following is a more general instance: every
mother, who detects the lie or divines the wish in the eyes of the
child, knows that there are characteristic changes of facial expression,
which are, nevertheless, very difficult of definition.[B]
[Footnote B: "From the productions of the 'thought-readers' we see
how slight and seemingly insignificant the unconscious movements may
be, which serve as signs for a sensitive re-agent. But in this case
no contact is necessary. There would have to be some sort of visible
or audible expression on the part of the questioner. No proof for
this has as yet been advanced."
How any one possessing the power of logical thought could possibly
infer from these words of mine (published in the above-mentioned
article in the "Tag"), that I denied the possibility of the
occurrence of visual signs, is to me incomprehensible. What I did
deny, and still deny, is that up to that time any had been proven to
occur.]
The commission did not even maintain or believe that unintentional signs
within the realm of the senses known to us, were to be excluded.
Professor Nagel and I would never have subscribed to any such
conclusion. The sentence in question, therefore, could only be
interpreted as follows: that signals of the kind that are used
intentionally in the training of horses, could not have occurred even
as unintended signs, for otherwise Mr. Busch would have detected them.
And in order to be observed by him it was immaterial whether they were
given purposely or not. The same signs, therefore, which as a result of
his observations were declared not to be present, could not be assumed
to be involved as unintentional.
For my part I am ready to confess that at this time I did not expect to
find the involuntary signals, if any such were involved, in the form of
movements. I had in mind rather some sort of nasal whisper such as had
been invoked by the Danish psychologist A. Lehmann, in order to explain
certain cases of so-called telepathy. I could not believe that a horse
could perceive movements which escaped the sharp eyes of the
circus-manager. To be sure, extremely slight movements may still be
perceived after objects at rest have become imperceptible. But one would
hardly expect this feat on the part of an animal, who was so deficient
in keenness of vision, as we have been led, by those of presumably
expert knowledge, to believe of the horse,--one would expect it all the
less because Mr. von Osten and Mr. Schillings would move hither and
thither in most irregular fashion while the horse was going through his
tapping, and would therefore make the perception of minute movements all
the more difficult.
Nor was there anything in the exhibitions given at the same time in a
Berlin vaudeville by the mare "Rosa," which might have shattered this
belief. For, in the case of this rival of Hans, the movements involved
were comparatively coarse. The closing signal consisted in bending
forward on the part of the one exhibiting the mare, while up to that
point he had stood bolt upright. Most persons were not aware of this,
because this change in posture cannot be noticed from the front. I
happened to sit to the side and caught the movement every time. It was
the same that was noted by Dr. Miessner, another member of the
commission, (see page 256), but concerning which he did not give me a
more complete account. Later I learned through Professor Th. W.
Engelmann that the very same movement was employed not long ago, for
giving signals to a dog exhibited at Utrecht. This particular movement
is very well adapted to commercial purposes, since the spectator always
tries to view the performance from a point as nearly in front of the
animal and its master as possible, thus making the detection of the
trick all the more difficult.
The details of the various experiments made by this commission are given
in an excerpt from the records kept by Dr. von Hornbostel, which I
showed to a small group of persons a few days after the 12th of
September (Supplement III). At that time none of the particulars was
published, because the commission wished to wait until some positive
statement might be made. The public was merely to be assured that a
group of reputable men, from different spheres of life, who could have
no purpose in hazarding their reputation, believed that the case was one
worthy of careful investigation.
I left Berlin on September 17th and did not return until October 3d. In
the meantime Mr. Schillings continued the investigation, and was
assisted in part by Mr. Oskar Pfungst, one of my co-workers at the
Psychological Institute. For the first time a number of tests were now
made in which neither the questioner, nor any of those present knew the
answer to the problem. Such tests naturally were the first steps toward
a positive investigation. The results were such that Mr. Schillings was
led to replace his hypothesis of independent conceptual thinking by one
of some kind of suggestion. In this he was strengthened somewhat by
having noted the fact that in his questions which he put to the horse,
he might proceed as far as to ask the impossible. He has always been
ready to offer himself in the tests which have been undertaken since
then.
On October 13, 1904, together with the two gentlemen mentioned in the
beginning of my report, I began my more detailed investigation, and
finished on November 29. We worked for several hours on the average of
four times each week. I take this opportunity of giving expression of
the recognition which is due to the two gentlemen. They were ready to go
to the courtyard in all kinds of weather, at times they went without me,
and they always patiently discussed the order and method of the
experiments and the results. Dr. von Hornbostel had the important task
of keeping the records, and Mr. Pfungst undertook the conduct of the
experiments. It was he, who, soon after the blinder-tests disclosed the
necessary presence of visual signs, discovered the nature of these
signs. Without him we might have shown the horse to be dependent upon
visual stimuli in general, but we never would have been able to gain
that mass of detail, which makes the case valuable for human psychology.
But I am tempted to praise not merely his patience and skill, but also
his courage. For we must not believe that Mr. von Osten's horse was a
"perfectly gentle" animal. If he stood untied and happened to be excited
by some sudden occurrence, he would make that courtyard an unsafe place,
and both Mr. Schillings and Mr. Pfungst suffered from more than one
bite. In this connection I would also express my obligations to Count
Otto zu Castell-Ruedenhausen, for his frequent intercession on our behalf
with the owner of the horse, and for his many evidences of good-will and
helpfulness.
After the publication of this report (Supplement IV), there was still
some further discussion of the case in societies of various kinds and in
the press, but no important objections were raised. A hippologist
thought that men of his calling should have been consulted, a
telepathist believed that telepathists should have been called in. There
was also some further talk of suggestion, will-transference,
thought-reading and the occult, but no attempt was made to elucidate
these vague terms with reference to their application to the case in
hand. Others adhered to the old cry of "fraud," for a share of which Mr.
Pfungst now fell heir. There were a few who felt it incumbent upon
themselves to preserve their 'priority,' and therefore stated with a
show of satisfaction that I had finally 'confessed' myself to hold their
respective points of view. As if there were anything like "confessions"
in science! As if mere affirmations, even though sealed and deposited in
treasure vaults, had any value with reference to a case in which every
manner of supposition had been advanced in lieu of explanation. Why did
they wait so long, if they had convincing proof for their position?
And finally there were disappointed Darwinists who expressed fear lest
ecclesiastical and reactionary points of view should derive favorable
material from the conclusions arrived at in my report. Needless fear.
For lovers of truth it must always remain a matter of inconsequence
whether anyone is pleased or displeased with the truth, and whether it
is enunciated by Aristotle or Haeckel.
Mr. von Osten, however, continued to exhibit Hans, and is probably doing
so still, but in what frame of mind, I dare not judge. The spectators
continue to look on, they are doubly alert to catch movements, and many
of them have learned from Mr. Schillings what kind of movements they are
to expect. But these "initiated" ones regularly return and declare that
there is nothing in the movements and that they simply could not
discover any aids given to the horse. Nothing can so well show how
difficult the case is, and how great the need of a thorough exposition
of the whole matter, than the account given in the following pages of
Mr. Pfungst. Its publication has been delayed on account of the
additional tests made in the laboratory, but we have reason to suppose
that through these additional tests the work has gained in permanent
value. Experimental psychologists will perhaps be greatly interested in
the graphic registration of the minute involuntary movements which
accompany the thought process, and in the artificial association of a
given involuntary movement with a given idea. Likewise the tests on
sense-perception in horses, which have led to essential changes in
hitherto current views, and the critical review of the comprehensive
literature on similar achievements of other animals, will be welcomed by
many.
Before closing these introductory remarks, I would make one more
statement concerning Mr. von Osten. The reader will notice that the
judgment passed upon him in this treatise is placed at the end, whereas
in the report of the commission it came first. This was brought about by
the change that was made in the way of stating the problem. Then the
question discussed was whether 'tricks' were involved; now the question
is: What is the mechanism of the process? The question of the good faith
of the master was taken up once more only because the facts that were
brought to light by the later experimentation seemingly brought forward
new grounds for distrust. But by placing this discussion toward the end
of our report we wished to indicate that everything that is said of the
present status of facts, is quite independent of the view taken
concerning Mr. von Osten. Even assuming that the horse had been
purposely trained by him to respond to this kind of signal, the case
would still deserve a place in the annals of science. For visual signs,
planned and practiced so that they could not only be more readily
perceived by the animal than by man, but could be transferred from their
inventor to others without any betrayal of the secret,--this would be an
extraordinary invention, and Mr. von Osten would then be a fraud, but
also a genius of first rank.
In truth he probably was neither, but I was brief in my report, for
otherwise I would have been obliged to go into more detail than the case
warranted. And a judgment passed upon a human personality is quite a
different matter from a judgment upon a horse. If it is unscientific to
make unqualified statements concerning a horse after the performance of
only a few experimental tests, it is certainly an unwarranted thing to
pass a moral judgment upon a man upon the basis of meagre material.
Anyone who would assume the role of judge should bear in mind that here
too we have more than a hundredfold the material which they could bring
forward, and among it some which, if taken alone, would be more
unfavorable than any that they had. But here all things should be
weighed together, and not in isolation. A former instructor of
mathematics in a German gymnasium, a passionate horseman and hunter,
extremely patient and at the same time highly irrascible, liberal in
permitting the use of the horse for days at a time and again tyrannical
in the insistence upon foolish conditions, clever in his method of
instruction and yet at the same time possessing not even the slightest
notion of the most elementary conditions of scientific procedure,--all
this, and more, goes to make up the man. He is fanatic in his
conviction, he has an eccentric mind which is crammed full of theories
from the phrenology of Gall to the belief that the horse is capable of
inner speech and thereby enunciates inwardly the number as it proceeds
with the tapping. From theories such as these, and on the basis of all
sorts of imagined emotional tendencies in the horse, he also managed to
formulate an explanation for the failure of the tests in which none of
the persons present knew the answer to the problem given the horse, and
also for the failure of those tests in which the large blinders were
applied. And he would often interfere with or hinder other tests which,
according to his point of view, were likely to lead us astray. And yet,
when the first tests with the blinders did turn out as unmistakably
sheer failures, there was such genuine surprise, such tragi-comic rage
directed against the horse, that we finally believed that his views in
the matter would be changed beyond a doubt. "The gentlemen must admit,"
he said at the time, "that after seeing the objective success of my
efforts at instruction, I was warranted in my belief in the horse's
power of independent thought." Nevertheless, upon the following day he
was as ardent an exponent of the belief in the horse's intelligence as
he ever had been.
And finally, after I could no longer keep from him the results of our
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"CLEAR THE TRACK!"
(FREIE BAHN)
_A STORY OF TO-DAY_
BY
E. WERNER
_Author of "The Alpine Fay," "Banned and Blessed," "Danira,"
"Vineta," "At a High Price," etc. etc_.
TRANSLATED BY MARY STUART SMITH
THE TRADE SUPPLIED BY
THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY
LONDON LEIPSIC
Copyright, 1893.
BY
ERNST KEIL'S NACHFOLGER
* * *
[_All rights reserved_]
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
1. The Feast of Flowers at Nice
2. In Council
3. "See the Path is Clear to a Grand Career"
4. Odensburg Manor
5. A Victory <DW77>
6. In Which More Than One Charmer Charms
7. Cecilia Visits Radefeld
8. A Bough of Apple-Blossoms
9. The Cross on the Whitestone
10. Maia's Choice
11. A Secret Foe and Open Enemy
12. The Goal in Sight
13. Runeck leaves Odensburg
14. How an Old Bachelor makes Love
15. A Wedding Day
16. Scenes at the "Golden Lamb"
17. Election Times
18. Fortune Smiles on Victor Eckardstein
19. "Off With the Old Love, On With the New"
20. Maia Must be Saved
21. From Heights of Bliss to Depths of Woe
22. His Sin had found Him out
23. A Lover's Tryst
24. A Deed that Wipes Out Old Scores
25. 'Twixt Life and Death
26. How Forces that Are Opposed May Blend
CLEAR THE TRACK!
CHAPTER I.
THE FEAST OF FLOWERS AT NICE.
A spring day at the South! Sky and sea are radiant in their deep blue,
flooded with light and splendor, the waves breaking gently upon the
shores of the Riviera, to which spring had already come in all its
glory, while, at the North, snow-storms are still raging.
Here rests golden sunshine upon the white houses and villas of the
town, that embraces the shore within the radius of a vast semicircle,
adorned by lofty palms, and embowered in the green of the laurel and
myrtle. Among thousands of shrubs, the camellia is conspicuous from its
wealth of bloom, in every stage of perfection, its colors ranging from
pure white to richest crimson; and could anything excel the richness of
its glistening foliage? From the adjacent hills hoary monasteries look
down, and modern churches surrounded by tall cypress trees; friendly
orchards stand out from pine and olive groves, and in the distance the
blue Alps, with their snow-crowned summits, are half hidden in sunny
mist.
Nice was celebrating one of its spring-and-flower festivals, and the
whole city and its environs had turned out in gala-attire, whether
stranger or native-born. Gayly-decked equipages passed by in endless
procession, every window and balcony being filled with spectators, and
on the sidewalks, under the palms, thronged a merry multitude, the
brown and picturesque forms of fishermen and peasants being everywhere
conspicuous.
The battle of flowers on the Corso was in full swing, the sweet
missiles being constantly shot through the air, here hitting their
mark, there missing it: blossoms, that are treasured at the North as
rare and expensive, were here scattered heedlessly and lavishly. Added
to this, there were everywhere waving handkerchiefs, shouts of joy,
bands of music playing, and the intoxicating perfume of violets,--the
whole of this enchantingly beautiful picture being enhanced by the
golden sunshine of spring with which heaven and earth was filled.
Upon the terrace of one of the fashionable hotels stood a small group
of gentlemen, evidently foreigners, who had chanced to meet here, for
they conversed in the German language. The lively interest with which
the two younger men gazed upon the entrancing scene betrayed the fact
that it was new to them; while the third, a man of riper years, looked
rather listlessly upon what was going on.
"I must go now," said he, with a glance at his watch. "One soon gets
tired of all this hubbub and confusion, and longs after a quiet spot.
You, gentlemen, it seems, want to stay a while longer?"
His companions certainly seemed to have that intention, and one of
them, a handsome man, with slender figure, evidently an officer in
civilian's dress, answered laughingly:
"Of course we do, Herr von Stettin. We feel no need for rest whatever.
The scene has a fairy-like aspect for us Northmen, has it not,
Wittenau?--Ah! there come the Wildenrods! That is what I call taste;
one can hardly see the carriage for the flowers, and the lovely Cecilia
looks the very impersonation of Spring."
The carriage that was just driving by was indeed remarkable through its
peculiarly rich ornamentation of flowers. Everywhere appeared
camellias, the coachman and outriders wore bunches of them in their
hats, and even the horses were decked with them.
On the front seat were a gentleman of proud and noble bearing, and a
young lady in a changeable silk dress of reddish hue, her dark hair
surmounted by a dainty little white hat trimmed with roses. Upon the
back seat a young man had taken his place, who exerted himself to take
care of the heaps of flowers that were fairly showered upon this
particular equipage. Among them were the costliest bouquets, evidently
given in compliment to the beautiful girl, who sat smiling in the midst
of all her floral treasures, and looking with great, beaming eyes upon
the festive scene around her.
The officer, also, had taken a bunch of violets, and dexterously flung
it into the carriage, but instead of the lady, her escort caught it,
and carelessly added it to the pile of floral offerings heaped up on
the seat beside him.
"That was not exactly meant for Herr Dernburg," said the dispenser of
flowers rather irritably. "There he is again in the Wildenrod carriage.
He is never to be seen but when dancing attendance upon them."
"Yes, since this Dernburg has put in his appearance, the attentions of
all other men seem superfluous," chimed in Wittenau, sending a dark
look after the carriage.
"Have your observations, too, carried you so far already?" said the
young officer tauntingly. "Yes, millionaires; alas! are always to the
fore, and I believe Herr von Wildenrod knows how to appreciate this
quality in his friends, for I hear that luck sometimes deserts him over
yonder at Monaco."
"You must be mistaken; there can be no talk of any such thing as that,"
replied Wittenau, almost indignantly. "The Baron produces the
impression that he is a perfect gentleman, and associates here with our
very first people."
The other laughingly shrugged his shoulders.
"That is not saying much, dear Wittenau. Just here, at Nice, the line
separating the _elite_ from the world of adventurers is strangely lost
sight of. One never rightly knows where the one ceases and the other
begins, and there is some mystery about this Wildenrod. As to whether
his claim to nobility is altogether genuine----"
"Undoubtedly genuine, I can certify as to that," said Stettin, who had
hitherto been a silent listener, but now came forward and joined in the
conversation.
"Ah, you are acquainted with the family, are you?"
"Years ago, I used to visit at the house of the old Baron, who has died
since, and there I also met his son. I cannot pretend to have any
particular acquaintance with the latter, but he has a full right to the
name and title that he bears."
"So much the better," said the officer, lightly. "As for the rest, it
is only a traveling acquaintance, and no obligation is incurred."
"Assuredly not, if one lays aside such relations as easily as they are
assumed," remarked Stettin with a peculiar intonation. "But I must be
off now--I hope to meet you soon again, gentlemen!"
"I am going with you," said Wittenau, who seemed suddenly to have lost
his appetite for sight-seeing. "The rows of carriages begin to thin out
already. Nevertheless, it will be a hard matter to get through."
They took leave of their comrade, who was not thinking of departure
yet, and had just supplied himself with flowers again, and together
left the terrace. It was certainly no easy thing to make one's way
through the densely-packed throng, and quite a while elapsed ere they
left noise and stir behind them. Gradually, however, their way grew
clearer, while the shouts of the multitude died away in the distance.
The talk between the two gentlemen was rather monosyllabic. The younger
one, particularly, appeared to be either out of sorts or absent-minded,
and suddenly remarked, quite irrelevantly:
"It seems that you know all about the Wildenrods, and yet mention it
to-day for the first time. And, moreover, you have had nothing to do
with them."
"No," said Herr von Stettin coolly, "and I should have preferred other
associates for you. I several times intimated as much to you, but you
would not understand my hints."
"I was introduced to them by a fellow-countryman, and you said nothing
decided----"
"Because I know nothing decided. The associations of which I told you,
a while ago, date twelve years back, and many changes have taken place
since then. Your friend is right, the line of demarcation between the
Bohemian and man of society gets strangely confused, and I am afraid
that Wildenrod is on the wrong side of the barrier."
"You do not believe him to be wealthy, then?" asked Wittenau, with some
emotion. "He lives with his sister, in high style, being apparently in
the easiest circumstances, and, at all events, has command of abundant
means, for the present."
Stettin significantly shrugged his shoulders.
"Inquire at the faro-bank of Monaco; he is a regular guest there, and
is said, too, to have good luck in play, for the most part--so long as
it lasts! One hears, too, occasionally of other things, that are yet
more significant. I have not felt disposed to renew the former
acquaintance, although our intercourse had been rather frequent, for
what used to be the Wildenrod possessions lay in the immediate
neighborhood of our family property, that is now in my hands."
"What used to be?" asked the young man. "Those possessions have been
sold, then? I perceive, however, that you do not like to speak on the
subject."
"To strangers, most assuredly not. I shall give what information I have
to you, though, because you have a real interest in the matter.
Remember, however, that what I say is strictly confidential!"
"My word upon it, that nothing you tell me shall go any farther."
"Well, then," said Stettin gravely, "it is a brief, melancholy, but,
alas! not an unusual story. Although the estate had long been heavily
encumbered with debt, the establishment was maintained upon a most
expensive scale. The old Baron had contracted a second marriage, in
later life, long after his son was a grown man. He could not thwart his
young wife in a single wish, and her wants were many, very many. The
son, who was in the diplomatic service, was also accustomed to high
living; various other losses ensued, and finally came the catastrophe.
The Baron suddenly died of a stroke of apoplexy--at least so it was
said."
"Did he lay violent hands on himself?" asked Wittenau in a whisper.
"Probably. It has not been ascertained for certain, but it is supposed
that he was not willing to survive the misery and disgrace of his ruin.
Disgrace was certainly averted, for the family still holds the most
honorable position. The Wildenrods rank with the highest nobility in
the land, and the name was to be shielded at any price. The castle and
lands adjacent became a royal domain, so that the creditors could be
pacified at least, and, by the general public, the sale was deemed a
voluntary one. The widow with her little daughter would have been given
over to utter poverty if, by the king's grace, she had not been allowed
a home in the castle and had an annuity settled upon her. As for the
rest, she died soon afterwards."
"And the son? The young Baron?"
"Of course he resigned his position, had to do so, under the
circumstances, for he could not be _attache_ of affairs without some
fortune of his own. It must have been a severe blow upon the proud,
ambitious man, who had, most likely, been kept in utter ignorance of
the state of his father's affairs, and, now, all of a sudden, found
himself stopped short in his career. To be sure, many another honorable
calling stood open to him; friends would doubtless have secured some
situation for him, but this would have necessitated descent from the
sphere in which he had hitherto played a chief part; necessitated
sober, unremitting toil in an obscure station, and those were things
that Oscar Von Wildenrod could not brook. He rejected all offers of
employment, left the country, and was no more heard of in his native
place. Now, after the lapse of twelve years, I meet him here at Nice
with his young sister, who, meanwhile, has come to woman's estate, but
we prefer, it seems, on both sides, to treat each other as strangers."
While this narration was being made, 'Wittenau became very thoughtful,
but made no comment whatever. Noticing this, his friend laid his hand
upon his arm, and said gently:
"You should not have given young Dernburg such angry glances, for it
has been his appearance upon the scene, I fancy, that has saved you
from committing a folly--a great folly."
A glowing blush suffused the young man's face at this intimation, and
he was evidently much embarrassed.
"Herr von Stettin, I----"
"Now, do not understand me as reproaching you on account of looking too
deeply into a pair of fine eyes," interposed Stettin. "That is so
natural at your age; but in this case, it might have been fatal. Ask
yourself, whether a girl thus brought up, who has grown up amid such
influences and surroundings, would make a good farmer's wife, or be
happy in a country neighborhood. As for the rest, you would hardly have
found acceptance as Cecilia Wildenrod's suitor, because her brother
will give the decisive voice, and he wants a millionaire for a
brother-in-law."
"And Dernburg is heir to several millions, people say," remarked
Wittenau with undisguised bitterness. "So, he will be the one upon whom
this honor is to be bestowed."
"It is not mere say so, it is fact. The great Dernburg iron and steel
works are the most important in all Germany, and admirably conducted.
Their present chief is such a man as one rarely meets. I speak from
personal knowledge, having accidentally made his acquaintance a few
years ago. But see, there are the Wildenrods coming back again."
There, indeed, was the Baron's equipage, which had left the Corso a
little while ago, and was now on its way back to their hotel. The fiery
horses, which had with difficulty been curbed in, so as to keep step
with a procession, were now going at full speed, and rushed past the
two gentlemen, who had stepped aside, and looked upon the cloud of dust
that had been raised.
"I am sorry about that Oscar Wildenrod," said Stettin earnestly. "He
does not belong to the ordinary herd of mankind, and might perhaps have
accomplished great things, if fate had not so suddenly and rudely
snatched him away from the sphere for which he had been born and
reared. Do not look so downcast, dear Wittenau! You will get over this
dream of your youth, and after you get home to your fields and meadows,
will thank your stars that it was nothing but a dream."
The carriage, meanwhile, had gone on its way, and now stopped before
one of those grand hotels, whose exterior sufficiently showed that it
was only at the disposal of rich and distinguished guests.
The suite of rooms occupied by Baron von Wildenrod and his sister was
one of the best, and, of course, most expensive in the house, and
lacked none of the conveniences and luxuries to which pampered guests
lay claim. The rooms were splendidly furnished, but there was about
them that air of the public-house that takes away, in large measure,
any sense of genuine comfort.
The gentlemen were already in the parlor. Cecilia had retired in order
to lay aside her hat and gloves, while her brother, chatting
pleasantly, conducted their visitor to the veranda, whence was to be
seen a fine view of the sea and a portion of Nice.
Young Dernburg appeared to be twenty-four or five years old, his looks
making an impression that was insignificant rather than disagreeable.
His diminutive figure, with its somewhat stooping carriage and pale
complexion, with that peculiar tell-tale flush upon the cheeks,
betrayed the fact that he had sought the sunny shores of the Riviera,
not for the sake of pleasure, but out of regard for health. His face
had its attractive features, but its lineaments were much too weak for
a man, and this weakness culminated in the dreamy, somewhat veiled,
look of his brown eyes. The self-consciousness of the rich heir seemed
to be entirely lacking in this young man, his manners being unassuming,
almost shy, and had not the name he bore everywhere procured him
consideration, he would have been apt to be overlooked by the
generality of the world.
The Baron's personality was in every respect the reverse. Oscar von
Wildenrod was no longer young, being already not far from fifty years
old.
There was something imposing in his lofty stature, and his clean-cut,
regular features could but be regarded as handsome still, in spite of
the sharp lines engraven upon them, and the deep furrow between the
brows, that lent a rather sinister aspect to his countenance. Only a
cool, considerate calm seemed perceptible in his dark eyes, and yet
they flashed occasionally, with a fierceness that betokened the
existence of a passionate, unbridled nature. As for the rest, there was
something thoroughly distinguished in the Baron's whole appearance, his
manners united the complaisance of a man of the world combined quite
naturally with the pride inalienable from the scion of an ancient stock
of nobility, which was manifested, however, in a manner by no means
offensive.
"You are not seriously thinking of taking your leave of Nice?" asked
he, in the course of conversation. "It would be much too early, for you
would just be in time for that season of storms and rain, which they
honor with the name of spring, in that dear Germany of ours. You have
spent the whole winter in Cairo, have been just six weeks at Nice, and
should not expose yourself now to the asperities of that harsh Northern
climate, if you would not imperil the health that is restored to you,
but can hardly be established as yet."
"The question is not one of to-day or to-morrow," said Dernburg, "but I
cannot defer too long my return home. I have been more than a year in
the South, feel perfectly well again, and my father urgently requests
that I return to Odensburg as soon as possible, provided that the
doctors give me their permission."
"That Odensburg must be a grand creation," remarked the Baron.
"According to all that I hear from you and others, your father must
almost occupy the position of a small potentate; only his authority is
more unlimited than that of a prince."
"Certainly, but he has also the whole care and responsibility of his
station. You have no idea what it is to be at the head of such an
undertaking. It requires a constitution of iron, such as my father
possesses; the burden that he carries on his shoulders is that of a
very Atlas."
"Never mind, it is power, and power is always a delight!" said
Wildenrod, with flashing eyes.
The young man smiled rather sadly.
"To you, and very likely to my father, too--I am differently
constituted. I should prefer a quiet life, in a modest home, located in
such a terrestrial paradise as this delicious climate supplies; but it
is not worth while to talk; as an only son, it must one day devolve on
me to superintend the work at Odensburg."
"You are ungrateful, Dernburg! A good fairy endowed you, when in your
cradle, with a destiny such as thousands aspire to, with eager
longing--and I verily believe you sigh over it."
"Because I feel that I am not qualified for it. When I behold what my
father accomplishes, and reflect that one day the task will devolve
upon me, of filling his place, there comes over me a sense of
discouragement and timidity that I cannot control."
Wildenrod's eyes were fastened, with a peculiar expression upon the
diminutive figure and pale features of the young heir.
"One day!" he repeated. "Who cares now about the distant future. Your
father is still living and working in the plenitude of his powers, and
in the worst case he will leave you capable officers, who have been
trained in his school. So you will actually stay no longer at Nice? I
am sorry for that; we shall miss you a great deal."
"We?" asked Dernburg softly. "Do you speak in your sister's name also?"
"Certainly, Cecilia will be very sorry to lose her trustiest knight. To
be sure, there will be plenty to try and console her--do you know,
yesterday I had a regular quarrel upon my hands with Marville, because
I offered you the seat in our carriage, upon which he had surely
calculated?"
This last remark was apparently made carelessly, without any design,
but it had its effect. The young man's brow became clouded, and with
unmistakable irritation, he replied:
"Vicomte de Marville constantly claims a place by the Baroness, and I
plainly perceive that he would like to supplant me in her favor
altogether."
"If you voluntarily resign your vantage-ground--very likely. So far,
Cecilia has continually manifested a preference for her German
compatriot, and yet there is no doubt but that the amiable Frenchman
pleases her, and the absent is always at a disadvantage, especially
where young ladies are concerned."
He spoke in a jesting tone, as though no weight were to be attached to
his words, since he did not look upon the matter at all in a serious
light. This only made Dernburg more solicitous to come to an
understanding. He made no reply, he was evidently struggling with
himself, and finally began, unsteadily and with hesitation:
"Herr von Wildenrod, I have had something on my heart--for a long while
already--but I have not ventured until now----"
The Baron had turned and looked at him wonderingly. There lurked in his
dark eyes a half-mocking, half-compassionate expression, the look
seeming to say: "You have millions to offer and yet hesitate?" but
aloud he replied: "Speak out, pray; we are no strangers, and I hope
that I have a claim to your confidence."
"It is, perhaps, no longer a secret to you that I love your sister,"
said Dernburg almost timidly. "But allow me to say to you, that I
should account myself the happiest of men, if I could hope to win
Cecilia--that I would do everything to make her happy--may I hope?"
Wildenrod did not indeed affect any surprise at this confession, he
only smiled, but it was a smile that was full of promise.
"First of all, you must address your question to Cecilia herself. Young
ladies are rather self-willed on such points, and my sister peculiarly
so. Perhaps I am too considerate of her, and she is completely spoiled
in society now, how much so you saw for yourself again to-day, during
our ride on the Corso."
"Yes, I saw it," and the young man's tone showed deep depression, "and
just on that account, I have never before been able to find the courage
to speak of my love."
"Really? Well, then | 2,297.65733 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.6385010 | 209 | 196 |
Produced by E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, David Garcia,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading
Team
MONI THE GOAT-BOY
BY JOHANNA SPYRI
Author Of "Heidi"
TRANSLATED BY HELEN B. DOLE
ILLUSTRATED IN COLOR BY CHARLES COPELAND
[Illustration: "_In the midst of the flock came the goat-boy_."]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. ALL IS WELL WITH MONI
II. MONI'S LIFE IN THE MOUNTAINS
III. A VISIT
IV. MONI CAN NO LONGER SING
V. MONI SINGS AGAIN
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"In the midst of the flock came the goat-boy" _frontispiece_
"Moni climbed with his goats for an hour longer"
"Joergli had opened his hand. In it lay a cross set with a large
| 2,297.658541 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.6415740 | 967 | 24 |
Produced by Ron Swanson
Vol. II. No. 1.
THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE.
PUBLISHED BY THE
NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY.
WASHINGTON, D. C.
Price 50 Cents.
CONTENTS.
On the Telegraphic Determinations of Longitude by the Bureau of
Navigation: Lieut. J. A. Norris, U. S. N.
Reports of the Vice-Presidents:
Geography of the Land: Herbert G. Ogden
Geography of the Air: A. W. Greely, Chief Signal Officer, U. S. A.
Annual Report of the Treasurer
Report of Auditing Committee
Annual Report of the Secretary
National Geographic Society:
Abstract of Minutes
Officers for 1890
Members of the Society
Published April, 1890.
PRESS OF TUTTLE, MOREHOUSE & TAYLOR, NEW HAVEN, CONN.
THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE.
Vol. II. 1890. No. 1.
ON THE TELEGRAPHIC DETERMINATIONS OF LONGITUDE BY THE BUREAU OF
NAVIGATION.
BY LIEUT. J. A. NORRIS, U. S. N.
The following definitions are given by Chauvenet in his Spherical and
Practical Astronomy.
"The longitude of a point on the earth's surface is the angle at the
Pole included between the meridian of that point and some assumed first
meridian. The difference of longitude between any two points is the
angle included between their meridians." To describe the practical
methods of obtaining this difference or angle, by means of the electric
telegraph both overland and submarine, and especially those employed by
the expeditions sent out by the Navy department, is the object of this
paper.
* * * * *
Before the invention of the telegraph various methods more or less
accurate in their results were employed, and are still in use where the
telegraph is not available. The one most used and giving the best
results was that in which a number of chronometers were transported
back and forth between two places the difference of whose longitudes
was required. "For," as the author quoted above says, "the
determination of an absolute longitude from the first meridian or of a
difference of longitude in general, resolves itself into the
determination of the difference of the time reckoned at the two
meridians at the same absolute instant." If a chronometer be regulated
to the time at any place _A_, and then transported to a second place
_B_, and the local time at _B_, be determined at any instant, and at
that instant the time at _A_, as shown by the chronometer is noted, the
difference of the times is at once known, and that is the difference of
longitude required. The principal objection to this plan is that the
best chronometers vary. If the variations were constant and regular,
and the chronometer always gained or lost a fixed amount for the same
interval of time, this objection would disappear. But the variation is
not constant, the rate of gain or loss, even in the best instruments,
changes from time to time from various causes. Some of these causes may
be discovered and allowed for in a measure, others are accidental and
unknown. Of the former class are variations due to changes of
temperature. At the Naval Observatory, chronometers are rated at
different temperatures, and the changes due thereto are noted, and
serve to a great extent as a guide in their use. But the transportation
of a chronometer, even when done with great care is liable to cause
sudden changes in its indications, and of course in carrying it long
distances, numerous shocks of greater or less violence are unavoidable.
Still, chronometric measurements, when well carried out with a number
of chronometers and skilled observers have been very successful. Among
notable expeditions of this sort was that undertaken in 1843, by Struve
between Pulkova and Altona, in which eighty-one chronometers were
employed and nine voyages made from Pulkova to Altona and eight the
other way. The results from thirteen of the chronometers were rejected
as being discordant, and the deduced longitude was made to depend on
the remaining 68. The result thus obtained differs from the latest
determination by 0^{s}.2.
The U. S. Coast Survey instituted chronometric expeditions between
Cambridge, Mass., and | 2,297.661614 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.6425000 | 2,189 | 12 | MUNICH***
Transcribed from the 1864 Chapman and Hall “Tales of All Countries”
edition by David Price, email [email protected]
THE HOUSE OF HEINE BROTHERS, IN MUNICH.
THE house of Heine Brothers, in Munich, was of good repute at the time of
which I am about to tell,—a time not long ago; and is so still, I trust.
It was of good repute in its own way, seeing that no man doubted the word
or solvency of Heine Brothers; but they did not possess, as bankers, what
would in England be considered a large or profitable business. The
operations of English bankers are bewildering in their magnitude.
Legions of clerks are employed. The senior book-keepers, though only
salaried servants, are themselves great men; while the real partners are
inscrutable, mysterious, opulent beyond measure, and altogether unknown
to their customers. Take any firm at random,—Brown, Jones, and Cox, let
us say,—the probability is that Jones has been dead these fifty years,
that Brown is a Cabinet Minister, and that Cox is master of a pack of
hounds in Leicestershire. But it was by no means so with the house of
Heine Brothers, of Munich. There they were, the two elderly men, daily
to be seen at their dingy office in the Schrannen Platz; and if any
business was to be transacted requiring the interchange of more than a
word or two, it was the younger brother with whom the customer was, as a
matter of course, brought into contact. There were three clerks in the
establishment; an old man, namely, who sat with the elder brother and had
no personal dealings with the public; a young Englishman, of whom we
shall anon hear more; and a boy who ran messages, put the wood on to the
stoves, and swept out the bank. Truly he house of Heine Brothers was of
no great importance; but nevertheless it was of good repute.
The office, I have said, was in the Schrannen Platz, or old Market-place.
Munich, as every one knows, is chiefly to be noted as a new town,—so new
that many of the streets and most of the palaces look as though they had
been sent home last night from the builders, and had only just been taken
out of their bandboxes It is angular, methodical, unfinished, and
palatial. But there is an old town; and, though the old town be not of
surpassing interest, it is as dingy, crooked, intricate, and dark as
other old towns in Germany. Here, in the old Market-place, up one long
broad staircase, were situated the two rooms in which was held the bank
of Heine Brothers.
Of the elder member of the firm we shall have something to say before
this story be completed. He was an old bachelor, and was possessed of a
bachelor’s dwelling somewhere out in the suburbs of the city. The junior
brother was a married man, with a wife some twenty years younger than
himself, with two daughters, the elder of whom was now one-and-twenty,
and one son. His name was Ernest Heine, whereas the senior brother was
known as Uncle Hatto. Ernest Heine and his wife inhabited a portion of
one of those new palatial residences at the further end of the Ludwigs
Strasse; but not because they thus lived must it be considered that they
were palatial people. By no means let it be so thought, as such an idea
would altogether militate against whatever truth of character painting
there may be in this tale. They were not palatial people, but the very
reverse, living in homely guise, pursuing homely duties, and satisfied
with homely pleasures. Up two pairs of stairs, however, in that street
of palaces, they lived, having there a commodious suite of large rooms,
furnished, after the manner of the Germans, somewhat gaudily as regarded
their best salon, and with somewhat meagre comfort as regarded their
other rooms. But, whether in respect of that which was meagre, or
whether in respect of that which was gaudy, they were as well off as
their neighbours; and this, as I take it, is the point of excellence
which is desirable.
Ernest Heine was at this time over sixty; his wife was past forty; and
his eldest daughter, as I have said, was twenty-one years of age. His
second child, also a girl, was six years younger; and their third child,
a boy, had not been born till another similar interval had elapsed. He
was named Hatto after his uncle, and the two girls had been christened
Isa and Agnes. Such, in number and mode of life, was the family of the
Heines.
We English folk are apt to imagine that we are nearer akin to Germans
than to our other continental neighbours. This may be so in blood, but,
nevertheless, the difference in manners is so striking, that it could
hardly be enhanced. An Englishman moving himself off to a city in the
middle of Central America will find the customs to which he must adapt
himself less strange to him there, than he would in many a German town.
But in no degree of life is the difference more remarkable than among
unmarried but marriageable young women. It is not my purpose at the
present moment to attribute a superiority in this matter to either
nationality. Each has its own charm, its own excellence, its own
Heaven-given grace, whereby men are led up to purer thoughts and sweet
desires; and each may possibly have its own defect. I will not here
describe the excellence or defect of either; but will, if it be in my
power, say a word as to this difference. The German girl of
one-and-twenty,—our Isa’s age,—is more sedate, more womanly, more
meditative than her English sister. The world’s work is more in her
thoughts, and the world’s amusements less so. She probably knows less of
those things which women learn than the English girl, but that which she
does know is nearer to her hand for use. She is not so much accustomed
to society, but nevertheless she is more mistress of her own manner. She
is not taught to think so much of those things which flurry and disturb
the mind, and therefore she is seldom flurried and disturbed. To both of
them, love,—the idea of love,—must be the thought of all the most
absorbing; for is it not fated for them that the joys and sorrows of
their future life must depend upon it? But the idea of the German girl
is the more realistic, and the less romantic. Poetry and fiction she may
have read, though of the latter sparingly; but they will not have imbued
her with that hope for some transcendental paradise of affection which so
often fills and exalts the hearts of our daughters here at home. She is
moderate in her aspirations, requiring less excitement than an English
girl; and never forgetting the solid necessities of life,—as they are so
often forgotten here in England. In associating with young men, an
English girl will always remember that in each one she so meets she may
find an admirer whom she may possibly love, or an admirer whom she may
probably be called on to repel. She is ever conscious of the fact of
this position; and a romance is thus engendered which, if it may at times
be dangerous, is at any rate always charming. But the German girl, in
her simplicity, has no such consciousness. As you and I, my reader,
might probably become dear friends were we to meet and know each other,
so may the German girl learn to love the fair-haired youth with whom
chance has for a time associated her; but to her mind there occurs no
suggestive reason why it should be so,—no probability that the youth may
regard her in such light, because that chance has come to pass. She can
therefore give him her hand without trepidation, and talk with him for
half an hour, when called on to do so, as calmly as she might do with his
sister.
Such a one was Isa Heine at the time of which I am writing. We English,
in our passion for daily excitement, might call her phlegmatic, but we
should call her so unjustly. Life to her was a serious matter, of which
the daily duties and daily wants were sufficient to occupy her thoughts.
She was her mother’s companion, the instructress of both her brother and
her sister, and the charm of her father’s vacant hours. With such calls
upon her time, and so many realities around her, her imagination did not
teach her to look for joys beyond those of her present life and home.
When love and marriage should come to her, as come they probably might,
she would endeavour to attune herself to a new happiness and a new sphere
of duties. In the meantime she was contented to keep her mother’s
accounts, and look after her brother and sister up two pair of stairs in
the Ludwigs Strasse. But change would certainly come, we may prophesy;
for Isa Heine was a beautiful girl, tall and graceful, comely to the eye,
and fit in every way to be loved and cherished as the partner of a man’s
home.
I have said that an English clerk made a part of that small establishment
in the dingy banking-office in the Schrannen Platz, and I must say a word
or two of Herbert Onslow. In his early career he had not been fortunate.
His father, with means sufficiently moderate, and with a family more than
sufficiently large, had sent him to a public school at which he had | 2,297.66254 |
2023-11-16 18:55:21.7417250 | 235 | 13 | The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Mayflower and Her Log by Ames, v6
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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.
NUMBER 4. SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1840. VOLUME 1.
[Illustration: CAISLEAN-NA-CIRCE, OR THE HEN'S CASTLE.]
Our prefixed illustration gives a near view of one of the most
interesting ruins now remaining in the romantic region of Connemara, or
the Irish Highlands, and which is no less remarkable for its great
antiquity than for the singularly wild and picturesque character of its
situation, and that of its surrounding scenery. It is the feature that
gives poetic interest to the most beautiful portion of Lough Corrib--its
upper extremity--where a portion of the lake, about three miles in
length, is apparently surrounded and shut in by the rocky and precipitous
mountains of Connemara and the Joyce country, which it reflects upon its
surface, without any object to break their shadows, or excite a feeling
of human interest, but the one little lonely Island-Castle of the Hen.
That an object thus situated--having no accompaniments around but those
in keeping with it--should, in the fanciful traditions of an imaginative
people, be deemed to have had a supernatural origin, is only what might
have been naturally expected; and such, indeed, is the popular belief. If
we inquire of the peasantry its origin, or the origin of its name, the
ready answer is given, that it was built by enchantment in one night by a
cock and a hen grouse, who had been an Irish prince and princess!
There is, indeed, among some of the people of the district a dim
tradition of its having been erected as a fastness by an O'Conor, King
of Connaught, and some venture to conjecture that this king was no other
than the unfortunate Roderick, the last King of Ireland; and that the
castle was intended by him to serve as a place of refuge and safety, to
which he could retire by boat, if necessity required, from the
neighbouring monastery of Cong, in which he spent the last few years of
his life: and it is only by this supposition that they can account for
the circumstance of a castle being erected by the O'Conors in the very
heart of a district which they believe to have been in the possession of
the O'Flahertys from time immemorial. But this conjecture is wholly
erroneous, and the true founders and age of this castle are to be found
in our authentic but as yet unpublished Annals, from which it appears
certain that the Hen's Castle was one of several fortresses erected, with
the assistance of Richard de Burgo, Lord of Connaught, and Lord Justice
of Ireland, by the sons of Roderick, the last monarch of the kingdom. It
is stated in the Annals of Connaught, and in the Annals of the Four
Masters, at the year 1225, that Hugh O'Conor (son of Cathal Crovedearg),
King of Connaught, and the Lord Justice of Ireland, Richard De Burgo,
arriving with their English at the Port of Inis Creamha, on the east side
of Lough Corrib, caused Hugh O'Flaherty, the Lord of West Connaught, to
surrender the island of Inis Creamha, Oilen-na-Circe, or the Hen's
Island, and all the vessels of the lake, into Hugh O'Conor's hands, for
assurance of his fidelity.
From this entry it would appear that the Hen's Island, as well as the
island called Inis Creamha, had each a castle on it previously; and this
conclusion is strengthened by a subsequent entry in the same Annals, at
the year 1233, from which it appears that this castle, as well as others,
had been erected by the sons of Roderick, who had been long in contention
for the government with Cathal Crovedearg, and his sons Hugh and Felim,
and had, during these troubles, possessed themselves of O'Flaherty's
country. On the death of Hugh O'Conor, who was treacherously slain by
Geoffry De Mares, or De Marisco, in 1228, they appear to have again
seized on the strongholds of the country, that of the Hen's Castle among
the rest, and to have retained them till 1233, when their rival Felim
O'Conor finally triumphed, and broke down their castles. This event is
thus narrated in the Annals of the Four Masters:--
"1233. Felim, the son of Charles the Red-handed, led an array into
Connaught. Cormac, the son of Tomaltagh (Lord of Moylurg), went to meet
him, and brought him to Moylurg, where they erected a camp at Druim
Greagraighe, and were joined by Cormac, by Conor his son, the inhabitants
of the three Tuathas, and by the two sons of Mortogh Mac Dermot, Donogh
and Mortogh. They here consulted with each other, and resolved upon going
in pursuit of Hugh (King of Connaught) and the other sons of Roderic.
After overtaking them, they defeated Hugh, slew himself, his brother,
Hugh Muimhneach his son, and Donogh More, the son of Dermot, who was the
son of Roderic, and many others besides. There were also slain Raghallach
O'Flanigan, Thomas Biris, Constable of Ireland, his relative John Guer,
and many other Englishmen. This was after the bells and croziers had been
rung against them, after they had been cursed and excommunicated by the
clergy of Connaught; for Hugh Muimhneach had violated and plundered
Tibohine and many other churches, so that he and his adherents fell in
revenge of their dishonour to the saints whose churches they had
violated. The kingdom and sovereignty of Connaught were wrested from the
sons of Roderic, the son of Torlogh, on that day. Felim, the son of
Charles the Red-handed, then assumed the government of Connaught, _and
demolished the castles which had been erected by the power of the sons of
Roderic O'Conor and Mac William Burke_, namely, the Castle of Bon
Gaillimbe, _Caislen-na-Circe_, Caislen-na-Caillighe, and the Castle of
Dunamon."
In subsequent times the Hen's Castle reverted to the O'Flahertys, and was
repaired and garrisoned by them till the time of Cromwell, when, as we
are informed by Roderick O'Flaherty, it was finally dismantled and left
to decay. Still, however, enough remains to exhibit its original plan,
which was that of an Anglo-Norman castle or keep, in the form of a
parallelogram, with three projecting towers on its two longest sides; and
the architectural features of the thirteenth century are also visible in
some of its beautifully executed windows and doorways.
The Hen's Castle is not without its legendary traditions connected with
its history anterior to its dilapidation; and the following outline of
one of these--and the latest--as told at the cottage firesides around
Lough Corrib, may be worth preserving as having a probable foundation in
truth.
It is said that during the troubled reign of Queen Elizabeth, a lady of
the O'Flahertys, who was an heiress and a widow, with an only child, a
daughter, to preserve her property from the grasp of her own family and
that of the De Burgos or Burkes, shut herself up with her child in the
Hen's Castle, attended by twenty faithful followers, of tried courage and
devotion to her service, of her own and her husband's family. As such a
step was, however, pregnant with danger to herself, by exciting the
attention and alarm of the government and local authorities, and
furnishing her enemies with an excuse for aggression, she felt it
necessary to obtain the queen's sanction to her proceedings; and
accordingly she addressed a letter to her majesty, requesting her
permission to arm her followers, and alleging as a reason for it, the
disaffected state of the | 2,297.763233 |
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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 | 2,297.76636 |
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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)
[Transcriber's Note: Underscores are used as delimiter for _italics_]
An
American Girl
in Munich
Impressions of a Music Student
By
Mabel W. Daniels
Boston
Little, Brown, and Company
1905
Copyright, 1905,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
All rights reserved
Published March, 1905
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
_To Muetterchen_
I
MUNICH, _September 15, 1902_.
_Dear Cecilia_:--
Here I am in my Mecca at last after a "calm sea and prosperous voyage."
Would that you were with me to share my pleasures, and, yes, I am
selfish enough to add, my troubles, too, for you have such a magical
power of charming away the latter that they seem but trifling vexations.
Then I should so enjoy watching your delicious blue eyes open wide at
these Germans and their queer customs, and oh! how you would elevate the
tip of your aristocratic nose at my box of a study, which, however, I
consider the height of cosiness and comfort--from a German standpoint.
Lest by this last remark I've imperilled my reputation for patriotism,
let me hasten to assure you that I am as far from adopting a foreign
point of view in my contemplation of Man and the Universe as when we
used to walk from college down to Harvard Square and "have out" the
discussions kindled by our four o'clock lecture. It's only in the
concrete things of life that I've been forced to abandon my Bostonian,
and therefore, of course, unimpeachable standards. I have learned how
unwise a thing it would be for me to say to a German landlady, "Show
me an apartment with running water, steam heat, electric lights, and a
porcelain bath-tub." The poor bewildered creature would give me over
at once into the hands of the omnipotent _Polizei_ on the ground of
insanity. But perhaps, after all, the best way of explaining myself is
to follow the injunction in your letter: "Begin at the beginning and
tell me all about it."
_Muetterchen_ and I arrived at Munich late in the evening, and went
directly to a hotel near the station, where we slept soundly after our
long trip. Early the next morning I set out to look for a permanent
abode. On my list were a number of well-recommended _pensions_, and I
chose, naturally, the nearest at hand. It was not so easy to find as
I had at first thought, for a German street has a queer fashion of
changing its name every few blocks, so I deemed it wisest to inquire the
way of a passer-by. Frankly, I had rather prided myself on my knowledge
of the language, fondly imagining that I should have no trouble in
understanding it or in making myself intelligible. With that sublime
assurance born only of ignorance, I approached an honest-faced workman,
and in a charmingly idiomatic sentence inquired the shortest way to
Barer-strasse. He stared at me hard for a moment, and then burst into
a flood of harsh-sounding words, not one of which fell familiarly on my
ear. I was puzzled for a moment, but, thinking I must have mistaken his
nationality, I bowed my thanks and made my way to a policeman on the
corner, who, by the bye, wears a gleaming helmet like those of the
soldier chorus in "Faust." His answer was fully as incomprehensible
as the other, and I realized suddenly, with an overwhelming sense of
helplessness, that this strange-sounding tongue must be the Bavarian
dialect, and to understand it would require a totally new vocabulary. My
enthusiasm was distinctly dampened, but I bravely opened the Red Book,
which I had hitherto scorned, and unfolding the map of Munich to its
full extent, I laboriously studied the tangle of black and red lines for
a quarter of an hour before I found the desired street.
To reach the _pension_ took but a short time, and I was relieved to
discover that the landlady spoke north German and a little English. She
was a large, red-cheeked, breezy person, and I felt very much like a
small boat in tow of a big ship, as I meekly followed at her heels,
while she showed me her vacant rooms, accompanying her smiles, bows, and
gesticulations with a torrent of volubility. Finally she ushered me into
a stuffy room, over-crowded with furniture, which she proudly called
the "salon," and pointing out as _piece de resistance_ a decrepit,
yellow-keyed piano, announced that it was "for the use of the guests."
But the change, dear Cecilia, when I, like the stage villain, disclosed
my identity! The alluring smile melted in a trice; the persuasive tones
disappeared for the sharp rasp of the up-to-date business woman. I
learned that a music student was regarded as an incubus, and shunned
accordingly. Practice hours must be limited from, perhaps, nine-thirty
to twelve and from four to seven. The only possible room was up four
flights. Did I use the loud pedal much? Did I play any "pieces" or only
"five-finger exercises"?
I cannot tell you all the questions she hurled at me. Suffice it to say,
I left, downcast and disheartened, only to meet practically the same
experience at each _pension_ in turn. If there were already a music
student in possession, that was the signal for me instantly to withdraw.
If there were none, I found the rooms so undesirable, or practice hours
so limited, that to remain was impossible.
At length I chanced to encounter, returning from her mornings work at
the Pinakothek, an art student whom I had met on the steamer, and she
told me of a house where she thought there were no _Musikers_ as yet.
With an anxious heart I hurried up the narrow stairs, and interviewed
the landlady, who proved to be a most genial creature. An hour later
we had left the hotel and were ensconced as proud possessors of two
adjoining rooms. The larger we use for a sleeping-room, and the smaller
is dignified by the name of "salon." It is there that I am to work, and
I have already succeeded in making it a little more homelike, by placing
a screen to mitigate the depressing hideousness of the stove, and by
setting out my photographs on desk and table. I have, too, tacked on the
wall the Glee Club pictures and several snapshots which you took that
memorable spring day in the Yard.
The _pension_ itself is small. Indeed, the _Frau Baronin_--which is the
title with which I am to address my landlady--tells me she seldom
has more than ten guests in the house. She also says that most of
her _pensionnaires_ are German, for which we are grateful. I cannot
understand why so many Americans come over here expecting to see
something of the life and then establish themselves in one of those
hotel-like boarding-houses where the majority of the inmates speak only
the English tongue.
The view from our windows is charming, for Maximilians-Platz is one
of the most attractive spots in the city. As I look down on the waving
tops, and green lawns dotted with flowers, I forget that I am in the
city at all. Leaning out on the ledge, with the warm breath of the
wind on my forehead, the twittering of birds and the soft plash of the
fountain in my ears, the temptation to revel in all sorts of Arcadian
dreams would be fairly irresistible, were not this idyllic illusion
suddenly put to flight by the prosaic rumble of passing trams, which
straightway brings me down to the commonplace.
Really, I didn't introduce that fountain just to create a romantic
description, though it does sound rather like a daily theme. The best
part of it is it's real,--and the loveliest thing in Muenchen. You
can read about it any day in the Red Book, and can discover countless
pictures of it, but, believe me, nothing can give you an idea of its
sound as one stands at a little distance. If I were to score it I should
use the strings and a harp--the former divided and subdivided as in the
prelude to Lohengrin; and then perhaps I'd add a clarinet to give the
effect of the birds' call which mingles exquisitely with the plaintive
music of the water.
_Later._
My first appearance in German society was made last evening at
seven-thirty. We were shown by Gretchen, our stout maid, into the
dining-room,--a large room with a long table in the centre, about which
a number of people were sitting. At one end was the Baron. He is very
fat, very jovial, and very red of face. Precisely the same adjectives
somewhat intensified might be applied to his wife, who sat opposite.
When neither of them was talking, they were laughing in the most
infectious fashion imaginable. Isn't it queer to picture the nobility of
Europe as running boarding-houses? I rather fancied I might see some
of its members riding by in magnificent carriages, with high-stepping
horses and clashing chains. I had pictured them as lounging against the
cushions of their coaches with an air of bored grandeur, while
somewhere in the background shone a glint of ermine,--but behold! German
aristocracy bursts upon me in my landlord and landlady.
_Muetterchen_ was given the place of honor at the Baron's right. I sat
next. My _vis-a-vis_ was a Frenchman whom I heard them addressing as
"Herr Doktor." He was as typical of his nation as the Baron of his, and
surveyed me critically from behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. It did
not take me long to discover that he was intensely proud of his English,
which was very bad. On his left sat Frau von Waldfel, a Hungarian, who
monopolized the conversation in a high, rasping voice, and whose red
cheeks, prominent nose, and beady black eyes bespoke aggressiveness
of the most aggressive type. Then came Karl, the Baron's son, a stout,
mischievous, frank-faced boy of fourteen, and on my right hand sat a
blond-haired young man of about five and twenty, whom I should have
acknowledged handsome had not his face been disfigured by several scars.
I put him down at once as a student, for I had not travelled through
Heidelberg on my way southward without learning something of the
duelling custom. We were eight in all.
The first meal in a strange _pension_ is an awful ordeal. We both rather
dreaded it, the more so as no one present spoke English, except Frau von
Waldfel, and we were rather timid about airing our knowledge of German.
Then, too, every one seemed to converse so fast that the words fairly
tumbled over one another. Whenever I heard a totally strange phrase I
soothed my pride by saying, _sotto voce_, to _Muetterchen_, "Again
that demoniacal dialect!" The Baron and Baroness were extremely kind,
however, and did their utmost to make us feel at home, while Frau
von Waldfel was in her element. These foreigners do so appreciate an
opportunity to practise their English!
Between the continual making and consuming of numberless small
sandwiches, which she prepared in a marvellously skilful fashion from
her bread and butter, she conversed in the following manner, never
pausing for a reply:
"Have you been to Dresden or Hamburg or Berlin? I don't care for those
cities at all. They're frightful. Why, they simply starve you! Of
course in Hamburg one does find good meat pie; the only decent thing in
Dresden is the pastry. But give me Vienna! That's the city of Europe!
One can get most _be-au-ti-ful_ things to eat there."
Shades of the Sistine! Fancy travelling through Europe "for thy
stomach's sake"! Possibly, however, this is no more unworthy an object
than that of an American girl whom I met yesterday. "Like Munich? I
should rather say not. There isn't one decent shop in the place!"
Just to think of all the articles they are writing at home to prove that
we are fast developing an artistic sense!
Anything more inconvenient than the arrangement of meals would be hard
to find--with the exception of breakfast. This is served when and where
you want it and consists of rolls and coffee. It seems we are especially
lucky inasmuch as we receive honey also "without extra charge," as
the Baroness impressively added. At eleven o'clock comes the _Zweites
Fruehstueck_ which I rather imagine I shall omit. At one occurs
_Mittaggessen_, a pompous meal requiring at least an hour. At five every
one has afternoon coffee and a bit of cake. I hear there are any number
of beguiling outdoor cafes where one can sit under the trees and hear
good music. At seven-thirty your true son of Germany hungers yet again,
and _Abendessen_ (supper) is served. If, however, one wishes to attend
any form | 2,297.858287 |
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
A CRIME OF THE UNDER-SEAS
By GUY BOOTHBY
_Author of "A Bid for Fortune" "Doctor Nikola" "The Beautiful
White Devil" "Pharos, the Egyptian" etc. etc._
ILLUSTRATIONS BY STANLEY L. WOOD
LONDON
WARD LOCK & CO LIMITED
1905
[Illustration: "Dropped him again with a cry that echoed in my helmet."]
CONTENTS
A CRIME OF THE UNDER-SEAS
THE PHANTOM STOCKMAN
THE TREASURE OF SACRAMENTO NICK
INTO THE OUTER DARKNESS
THE STORY OF TOMMY DODD AND "THE ROOSTER"
QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM
CUPID AND PSYCHE
MISPLACED AFFECTIONS
IN GREAT WATERS
MR. ARISTOCRAT
THIS MAN AND THIS WOMAN
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"DROPPED HIM AGAIN WITH A CRY THAT ECHOED IN MY HELMET."
"I SPRANG TO MY FEET ON HEARING THIS. 'NOT THE FIRST!' I CRIED."
"A NATIVE FRUIT-HAWKER CAME ROUND THE CORNER."
"THEN, JUST AS HER NOSE GROUNDED, MY EYES CAUGHT SIGHT OF A BIG
CREEPER-COVERED MASS."
"ONE MOONLIGHT NIGHT... SOMEBODY STEPPED UP BESIDE HIM."
A Crime of the Under-Seas
CHAPTER I
There is an old saying that "one half of the world does not know how the
other half lives," but how true this is very few of us really
understand. In the East, indeed, it amounts almost to the marvellous.
There are men engaged in trades there, some of them highly lucrative, of
which the world in general has never heard, and which the ordinary
stay-at-home Englishman would in all probability refuse to believe, even
if the most trustworthy evidence were placed before him. For instance,
on the evening from which I date the story I am now about to tell you,
three of us were seated chatting together in the verandah of the Grand
Oriental Hotel at Colombo. We were all old friends, and we had each of
us arrived but recently in Ceylon. McDougall, the big red-haired
Scotchman, who was sitting on my right, had put in an appearance from
Tuticorin by a British India boat only that morning, and was due to
leave again for Burmah the following night. As far as I could gather he
earned his living mainly by smuggling dutiable articles into other
countries, where the penalty, if one is caught, is a fine of at least
one thousand pounds, or the chance of receiving upwards of five years'
imprisonment. The man in the big chair next to him was Callingway, a
Londoner, who had hailed the day before from South America, travelling
in a P. and O. steamer from Australia. He was tracking an absconding
Argentine Bank Manager, and, as it afterwards transpired, was, when we
came in contact with him, on the point of getting possession of the
money with which the other had left the country. Needless to say he was
not a Government servant, nor were the Banking Company in question aware
of his endeavours. Lastly there was myself, Christopher Collon, aged
thirty-six, whose walk in life was even stranger, if such a thing were
possible, than those of the two men I have just described. One thing at
any rate is certain, and that is that if I had been called upon to give
an accurate description of myself and my profession at that time, I
should have found it extremely difficult to do so. Had I been the
possessor of a smart London office, a private secretary, and half a
dozen corresponding clerks, I should probably have called myself a
private detective on a large scale, or, as they put it in the
advertisement columns of our daily papers, a Private Enquiry Agent. Yet
that description would scarcely have | 2,297.861192 |
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Literature in Agriculture (CHLA), Cornell University)
THE TRAINING OF A FORESTER
[Illustration: A FOREST RANGER LOOKING FOR FIRE FROM A NATIONAL FOREST
LOOKOUT STATION _Page 32_]
THE TRAINING | 2,298.05995 |
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Produced by Mike Lough
THE STORY OF A PIONEER
By Anna Howard Shaw, D.D., M.D.
With The Collaboration Of Elizabeth Jordan
TO THE WOMEN PIONEERS OF AMERICA
They cut a path through tangled underwood
Of old traditions, out to broader ways.
They lived to here their work called brave and good,
But oh! the thorns before the crown of bays.
The world gives lashes to its Pioneers
Until the goal is reached--then deafening cheers.
Adapted by ANNA HOWARD SHAW.
CONTENTS
I. FIRST MEMORIES
II. IN THE WILDERNESS
III. HIGH-SCHOOL AND COLLEGE DAYS
IV. THE WOLF AT THE DOOR
V. SHEPHERD OF A DIVIDED FLOCK
VI. CAPE COD MEMORIES
VII. THE GREAT CAUSE
VIII. DRAMA IN THE LECTURE FIELD
IX. "AUNT SUSAN"
X. THE PASSING OF "AUNT SUSAN"
XI. THE WIDENING SUFFRAGE STREAM
XII. BUILDING A HOME
XIII. PRESIDENT OF "THE NATIONAL"
XIV. RECENT CAMPAIGNS
XV. CONVENTION INCIDENTS
XVI. COUNCIL EPISODES
XVII. VALE!
ILLUSTRATIONS
REVEREND ANNA HOWARD SHAW IN HER PULPIT ROBES
LOCH-AN-EILAN CASTLE
DR SHAW'S MOTHER, NICOLAS SHAW, AT SEVENTEEN
ALNWICK CASTLE
DR. SHAW AT THIRTY-TWO
DR. SHAW AT FIFTY
DR. SHAW AND "HER BABY"--THE DAUGHTER OF RACHEL FOSTER AVERY
DR. SHAW'S MOTHER AT EIGHTY
DR. SHAW'S FATHER AT EIGHTY
DR. SHAW'S SISTER MARY, WHO DIED IN 1883
LUCY E. ANTHONY, DR. SHAW S FRIEND AND "AUNT SUSAN'S"
FAVORITE NIECE
THE WOOD ROAD NEAR DR. SHAW'S CAPE COD HOME, THE HAVEN
DR. SHAW'S COTTAGE, THE HAVEN, AT WIANNO, CAPE
COD--THE FIRST HOME SHE BUILT
GATE ENTRANCE TO DR. SHAW'S HOME AT MOYLAN
THE SECOND HOUSE THAT DR. SHAW BUILT
SUSAN B. ANTHONY
MISS MARY GARRETT, THE LIFE-LONG FRIEND OF MISS THOMAS
MISS M. CAREY THOMAS, PRESIDENT OF BRYN MAWR COLLEGE
ELIZABETH CADY STANTON
CARRIE CHAPMAN CATT
LUCY STONE
MARY A. LIVERMORE
FOUR PIONEERS IN THE SUFFRAGE MOVEMENT
FIREPLACE IN THE LIVING-ROOM, SHOWING AUNT
SUSAN'S" CHAIR
HALLWAY IN DR. SHAW'S HOME AT MOYLAN
DR. SHAW'S HOME (ALNWICK LODGE) AND HER TWO OAKS
THE VERANDA AT ALNWICK LODGE
SACCAWAGEA
ALNWICK LODGE, DR. SHAW'S HOME
THE ROCK-BORDERED BROOK WHICH DR. SHAW LOVES
THE STORY OF A PIONEER
I. FIRST MEMORIES
My father's ancestors were the Shaws of Rothiemurchus, in Scotland,
and the ruins of their castle may still be seen on the island of
Loch-an-Eilan, in the northern Highlands. It was never the picturesque
castle of song and story, this home of the fighting Shaws, but an
austere fortress, probably built in Roman times; and even to-day the
crumbling walls which alone are left of it show traces of the relentless
assaults upon them. Of these the last and the most successful were made
in the seventeenth century by the Grants and Rob Roy; and it was into
the hands of the Grants that the Shaw fortress finally fell, about 1700,
after almost a hundred years of ceaseless warfare.
It gives me no pleasure to read the grisly details of their struggles,
but I confess to a certain satisfaction in the knowledge that my
ancestors made a good showing in the defense of what was theirs. Beyond
doubt they were brave fighters and strong men. There were other sides to
their natures, however, which the high lights of history throw up
less appealingly. As an instance, we have in the family chronicles the
blood-stained page of Allen Shaw, the oldest son of the last Lady Shaw
who lived in the fortress. It appears that when the father of this
young man died, about 1560, his mother married again, to the intense
disapproval of her son. For some time after the marriage he made no open
revolt against the new-comer in the domestic circle; but finally, on the
pretext that his dog had been attacked by his stepfather, he forced a
quarrel with the older man and the two fought a duel with swords, after
which the victorious Allen showed a sad lack of chivalry. He not only
killed his stepfather, but he cut off that gentleman's head and bore it
to his mother in her bedchamber--an action which was considered, even in
that tolerant age, to be carrying filial resentment too far.
Probably Allen regretted it. Certainly he paid a high penalty for it,
and his clan suffered with him. He was outlawed and fled, only to be
hunted down for months, and finally captured and executed by one of the
Grants, who, in further virtuous disapproval of Allen's act, seized and
held the Shaw stronghold. The other Shaws of the clan fought long and
ably for its recovery, but though they were helped by their kinsmen, the
Mackintoshes, and though good Scotch blood dyed the gray walls of the
fortress for many generations, the castle never again came into the
hands of | 2,298.160185 |
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[Illustration: THE FOOLISH ALMANAC 2nd]
PERPETUAL PASS
Issued to:
Edw. C. Smith
_From_ Worryland
_To_ Laughter
(To be used only on The Foolish Almanack 2nd Limited)
GOOD TILL DOOMSDAY
_With the Compliments of the Season_
John N. Luce & Co.
[Illustration: SIGNS OF THE ZODIAC UP-TO-DATE]
_THE_
FOOLISH ALMANAK
For Anuthur Year
THE FURST CINC THE INTRODUKSHUN OV THE
MUK-RAKE IN MAGAZEEN GARDNING, AND
THE SPELING REFORM OV OWR LANGWIJ
By THEODOR ROSYFELT
Thair hay bin uthur Yearz but non like this.
Thingz wil Hapn.
313 Dayz wil kum and 313 Dayz wil go and thair wil
be 52 Sundayz evn in the best regulayted Familiz.
Thair wil be at leest wun 23 for yu in eech munth.
* * * * *
LIFE WITHOUT IT WIL BE UN-SEAZOND
By kind Purmishun ov the Jawn D. Rawkyfelurs the
Sun and Moon wil be purmitted 2 Arize and
Shine. The Shuberts wil regulayte the
Starz, and the Planits wil du
the best they kan.
Hetty Green and J. Peerpont Morgun have garanteed the
Wethur.
* * * * *
_WITH APOLOGIZ TO THE KARNAGY SPELING SKOOL_
PURPETRAYTED, WITH THE AID OV WALLACE GOLDSMITH'S
PICTURZ, BY
JOHN W. LUCE AND COMPANY
_BOSTON_ 1906 _LONDON_
_Copyright, 1906, by_
JOHN W. LUCE & COMPANY
_Boston, Mass., U. S. A._
_The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U. S. A._
[Illustration]
Greeting
Time was, is, and will be. Almanacks
have come and Almanacks
have gone. But Time has survived.
Only the Foolish Almanack
has been equal to the pleasant
Task of Killing it.
We offer the Book as our Defense.
THE PUBLISHERS.
HELPFUL HINT FOR JANUARY:
Do not give way to vain regrets because you did not keep the
good resolves you made a year ago. It might be worse. You
might have kept the resolutions and have had no incentive
for leading a better life this year.
* * * * *
ECLIPSES FOR THE COMING YEAR
If there are as many Eclipses as during 1905-6, it will be a
hard year on grafters and bosses. The editor is optimistic,
however, believing that the sanitary revolution which swept
the country has about blown over. Public confidence and
laxity have been restored in a large measure and the time is
now about ripe for us to get it in the neck again.
[Sidenote: _DRESS HINT_: The first costume on record was a
hand-me-down from the fig tree.
[Illustration]
_AN ICE AGE_: Now is the time to cut ice. "Doc." Osler won't
like it if you wait until after you are 40.]
[Illustration]
SUNDAY
MONDAY Do not swear off anything. Wait 'till tax time.
TUESDAY (1781) Baron Munchausen published his memoirs.
(1901) Andrew Carnegie started writing his
autobiography.
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY Erroneously spelled Thursday. It should be
spelled T-h-i-r-s-t-d-a-y (consult any of the
reformed who have been clinging to the water
wagon since Tuesday.)
FRIDAY
SATURDAY (1906) There was no genius born in Indiana this
day.
JANUARY
Reciprocity is the mother of contention.
UP IN MAINE
A thirsty, young sport, up in Me.
Pretended to suffer great Pe.
But when he'd imbibed
What the druggist prescribed,
He said he felt better Age.
Note: We demanded a diagram for the above and the author
reluctantly provided it. He thinks that any one should know
that _Me._ is the abbreviation for Maine and that to make
the 2d and last lines rhyme you will readily read _Pe._ as
abbreviation for _pain_ and _Age._ as abbreviation for
_again_. We feel much better now and we hope you do, dear
reader.--_The Editor._
[Sidenote: _Health Hint_: Those who are always having the
hives should go into the bee business.]
[Sidenote: _Household Advice_: To keep the kitchen fire hot,
keep it coaled.]
[Illustration]
SUNDAY
MONDAY Adam and Eve began housekeeping, and having
neither prying neighbors nor troublesome
servants they named their bungalow "Paradise."
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY A four-flush only wins political pots.
--Poker Proverbs.
THURSDAY
FRIDAY Rosa Bonheur born. Rosa painted animals
and all of her competitors at the art
shows said her work was "beastly."
SATURDAY
JANUARY
There are as good fish in the sea as there are in the fish
carts.
FORECAST FOR JANUARY
From January 1st until the 7th, and possibly in some cases
until the 9th or 10th, it will be very DRY. This drouth will
be followed by a long wet spell. The Zodiacal sharp who runs
things during January is Aquarius, which being translated
means "water-wagon." The only folks who never heard of
Aquarius live in the corn-belt of Kentucky.
* * * * *
From January 10th to the 15th, the weather will devote its
time to making up its mind what it is going to do. From the
15th to the 20th it will do it.
* * * * *
Dark clouds of remorse and despondency will reign during the
last week in January, but by February 1st you will have
become accustomed and resigned to your old habits.
[Illustration]
January will also be marked by "white goods sales," and (if
it's windy in the shopping district) skirt sails.
[Sidenote: _Gardening Hint_: You cannot raise bread fruit
from cauliflour.]
[Sidenote: _Health Hint_: If your blood is bad blame it on
your ancestors.]
[Illustration]
SUNDAY
MONDAY (1905) It was decided to build a sea-level-lock
canal in Panama.
(2001) It was decided to build a lock-sea-level
canal instead.
TUESDAY (3000 A.D.) At a quiet meeting, Daughters of
the Revolution elected their officers
unanimously.
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY Wear Blinders! To gaze at anything
with the naked eye is immodest.
--Anthony Comstock.
FRIDAY
SATURDAY
JANUARY
Open confession may be good for the soul, but it's bad for
the reputation.
SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD
Why a pretty ankle makes a "rubber-neck."
Why a Kentucky "Colonel" is a "good Judge."
Why chorus girls and lobsters always go together.
Why a Grass-widow objects to a raking over.
Why real pains from little champagnes grow.
Why there is no "Midway" on the straight and narrow path.
How a man can be "half-seas-over" on land.
* * * * *
TALE OF A TANK
High-ball
Sad fall.
Big head
'Nuff said.
[Sidenote: Muck-rakes will not be popular with trusts or
officialdom, but much sought after by literateurs.
[Illustration]
]
[Illustration]
SUNDAY
MONDAY (1906) Great excitement in County Cork. Handy
Skinegie bit off a piece of the Blarney
stone before delivering his address on
"How I hate to be rich."
TUESDAY (1925) Atlas seeks to retire from supporting
the world. American-Journal-Examiner
put at his service.
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY
FRIDAY (1906) T. Roosevelt began publishing a series
of short stories in the Congressional
Record.
SATURDAY
JANUARY
A punch in the bowl is worth two in the face.
FOR THE HOME COMING
Before meeting his wife and family at the station a wise man
will put his house in order for the home coming.
* * * * *
A pleasant way of doing this is to give a house-cleaning
party. Divide your party into the Sweepers, the Dusters, the
Scrubbers, and the Dish Washers, giving each group proper
utensils and offering a prize for the best results.
* * * * *
Let the party begin at midnight, after a pleasant dinner,
and at about 2 in the morning the police will probably come
in and finish cleaning the place up.
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: _Dairy Hint_: Most dairymen find a separator
useful, but it is not absolutely necessary. To separate milk
most effectively, keep away from the pump.]
[Illustration]
SUNDAY
MONDAY Wm. Tell born. Some persons do not believe
the Wm. Tell story. What Tell do they believe?
TUESDAY Publicity brings its own reward.
--Winston Churchill et al.
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY
FRIDAY Robinson Crusoe born. Crusoe was the first
victim to get a long term on the Island.
SATURDAY
JANUARY
A man's a man for a' that--there is in it.
HELPFUL HINT FOR FEBRUARY
It wasn't because George Washington cut down the cherry tree
that he was made President. And very few men get into office
simply for telling the truth. We hardly know how to advise
you on this point. Why do you wish to enter politics?
* * * * *
TO FIND OUT IF MONEY IS TAINTED
If silver or gold, bite it.
If bills, wash with soap and water.
If a cheque, call up the bank.
[Sidenote: _Society Hint_: A little gossip goes a long way.]
[Sidenote: _How to Be Happy_: Quit living.]
[Illustration]
SUNDAY
MONDAY (1874) Siamese twins Chang and Eng die.
(1906) Buttin twins, Lawson and Roosevelt,
perfectly healthy.
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY (1781) "Battle of Cowpens." British defeated
by Morgan.
(1906) Second "Battle of Cowpens." Packers
defeated by O'Neil and Reynolds.
THURSDAY
FRIDAY About this time expect some weather.
SATURDAY
FEBRUARY
There's many a damn
'Twixt the door and the jamb.
HOW TO SKATE
February is perhaps as good a month as any other to learn to
skate.
The simplest, and most approved method, is as follows:
One high-ball, another high-ball, 1 more high-ball, simply a
high-ball, just one more high-ball, ditto, the same, and
lastly, a highball. (Note--After the glass is full say, "Not
another drop.")
You will be surprised at the ease with which you can skate.
* * * * *
"Spreading the Eagle" is a very pretty and artistic skating
figure. It is done by trying to get from one side of the
street to the other all in the same night.
* * * * *
"Looping the lamp-post" is also quite an achievement in
skating. It doesn't make any difference which of the two
lamp-posts you loop--take your choice. It is difficult to
give directions how to do this. The feat has to be seen to
be learned. There is a simpler way of doing it, however, and
that is--stand perfectly still while the lamp-post passes
around you.
* * * * *
Two persons skating together for mutual assistance are known
as "a pair of skates."
* * * * *
An expert skater can skate just as well in July as in
February.
[Sidenote: _Nocturne_:
Bright
Light
Night.
Miss
Kiss
Bliss.
Pa
Bar
Scar.
[Illustration]
]
[Illustration: Don't see me freckles. Look pleasant please.]
SUNDAY
MONDAY Cherry trees and hatchets have been supplanted
by "big sticks" as decorations at the White
House.
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY "Cut it out"--_Surgeon's Motto_.
THURSDAY George Washington born. Neighbors took in
their cherry trees.
FRIDAY
SATURDAY
FEBRUARY
When Duty calls, send her around to the back door.
HOW TO COMPOSE A SHORT STORY
"Ambitious" asks the compiler of this Almanack to tell her
the easiest way to compose a short story.
* * * * *
This depends somewhat on the short story, but a few general
observations may be of interest. Some short stories are more
excited than others.
* * * * *
Lead the short story to a quiet place and soothe it by
praise delivered in a gentle, monotonous, but authoritative
tone of voice. Be careful not to criticize, as that will
make it more and more nervous. When the short story shows
signs of yielding to this influence, smooth it gently with
one hand and pat it on the back with the other. When quite
composed, withdraw quietly, still speaking in a low tone.
* * * * *
A short story by Mary Wilkins can be composed more quickly
than a short story by Kipling. In the latter case it may be
necessary to gently persuade the short story to take an
opiate.
[Sidenote: _Health Hint_: All that blisters is not good for
a cold.]
[Sidenote: _Lucky Advice_: It is unlucky to fall down 13
flights of stairs.]
[Illustration: Darn that ram.]
SUNDAY (1906) A bright day. W. J. Bryan congratulates
the Sun.
MONDAY
TUESDAY "It isn't so much her eating the apple as that
she thought she was getting something for
nothing. I foresee much trouble from this
tendency." --Adam's Journal.
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY
FRIDAY (2300 B.C.) Confusion invented by Confucius.
SATURDAY
FEBRUARY
A woman's college is a dangerous thing.
HELPFUL HINT FOR MARCH
Now is a good time to think about having your last summer's
suit and hat cleaned and fixed up to last another season.
You can stand at the window and look out at the snow, and
think about this to your heart's content. This probably will
warm you to such an extent that you will save a bit on your
coal bill.
* * * * *
HOW TO HANDLE A MUCK-RAKE
The owner of a muck-rake should first get a magazine to keep
it in. This practice originated with Laws Tomson, the
celebrated Norse Berserker.
Select your muck and rake it diligently until you find a
large, fat check; then leave that pile and begin on another.
* * * * *
WEATHER HINT--It's a nil wind that doesn't blow.
[Sidenote: _A Bad Sign_: "All Drinks Spot Cash."
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Those stars hold the stage. Take yer hat
off.]
SUNDAY
MONDAY About now young boys forget skating and begin
to think about marbles. "Old Boys" are still
skating and they are not particular whether
the pastime is associated with marble or
mahogany.
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY PRESS-AGENT--One who presages or foretells.
See LYRE.
FRIDAY
SATURDAY (1868) Barnum's Museum in New York destroyed
by fire. Parkhurst, Carrie Nation,
Dowie, and Anthony Comstock saved.
MARCH
It is said that nothing is impossible; but there are lots of
people doing nothing every day.
ODD FACTS
Eve did not use face powder.
* * * * *
Methuselah developed peculiarities as he grew old. It is
said that he never paid a telephone or gas bill.
* * * * *
Samson had his whims. He never went into vaudeville.
* * * * *
Noah never cared to take the children to see the animals at
the circus.
* * * * *
Goliath was another who thought he had one good fight left
in him.
* * * * *
Christopher Columbus did not go on the lecture platform to
tell of his travels.
* * * * *
Napoleon always played solitaire before going into a battle;
he couldn't run the deck out, and it made him so angry he
just had to lick somebody.
* * * * *
Euclid invented geometry rather than design dress patterns
for his wife.
* * * * *
Socrates was henpecked, and was one of the greatest
philosophers in the world--but the rule does not hold good
any longer.
[Sidenote: _Weather Sign_: A spoony pair under an umbrella
is a sign of a rain beau.]
[Sidenote: _To Cure a Morning Headache_: Be a little more
abstemious the night before.]
[Illustration]
SUNDAY
MONDAY (1875) First train ran through the Hoosac
Tunnel. Hobson too young to be present.
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY (1793) Washington D. C. named in honor of
Washington deceased.
THURSDAY
FRIDAY It was in this month that S. N. Akes left
Ireland. Located in Bellevue Hospital, N. Y.
SATURDAY
MARCH
When you see a man pushing a baby carriage, it is a sign
that he has trouble before him.
SPRING, GENTLE SPRING
One life-size morning nearly six thousand years ago Jubal
sat outside of dear old Eden, whanged his harp and warbled
the following:
"Gentle Spring has come at last,
So keep your furnace fires full blast!"
* * * * *
It was thus that Spring was invented, also the first Spring
poet. But why Spring should appeal | 2,298.261496 |
2023-11-16 18:55:22.2430110 | 3,045 | 112 |
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.)
{637} NOTES AND QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION FOR LITERARY MEN, ARTISTS, ANTIQUARIES,
GENEALOGISTS, ETC.
"When found, make a note of."--CAPTAIN CUTTLE.
* * * * *
No. 218.]
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31. 1853.
[Price Fourpence. Stamped Edition 5d.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
NOTES:-- Page
St. Stephen's Day and Riley's Hoveden, by J. S. Warden 637
The Holy Trinity Church, Hull, by R. W. Elliot 638
MINOR NOTES:--Italian-English--American Names--
Rulers of the World in 1853--Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes 638
QUERIES:--
Derivation of Silo, by Augustus Strong 639
MINOR QUERIES:--Handwriting--Rev. Joshua Brooks--"New
Universal Magazine"--Francis Browne--Advent Hymn--Milton's
Correspondence--"Begging the Question"--Passage of Cicero 639
MINOR QUERIES WITH ANSWERS:--Goldsmith's "Haunch of Venison" 640
REPLIES:--
School Libraries, by Weld Taylor, P. H. Fisher, &c. 640
Trench on Proverbs, by T. J. Buckton, &c. 641
Major Andre 643
Passage in Whiston 645
Helmets 645
Hampden's Death 646
Peter Allan, by Shirley Hibberd 647
"Could we with ink," &c., by the Rev. Moses Margoliouth, &c. 648
What Day is it at our Antipodes? 648
PHOTOGRAPHIC CORRESPONDENCE:--Aceto-Nitrate of
Silver--On the Restoration of old Collodion 649
REPLIES TO MINOR QUERIES:--Admissions to Inns of Court--
Inedited Lyric by Felicia Hemans--Derivation of Britain--
Derivation of the Word Celt--"Kaminagadeyathooroosoomokanoogonagira"--
Cash--"Antiquitas Saeculi Junentus Mundi"--Caves at Settle,
Yorkshire--Character of the Song of the Nightingale--
Inscriptions in Books--Door-head Inscription--Fogie--Sir W.
Hewet--Ladies' Arms borne in a Lozenge--The Crescent--
Abigail--Handbook to the Library of the British Museum--The
Arms of Richard, King of the Romans--Greek and Roman
Fortifications--Osbernus filius Herfasti--Devonianisms--Gentile
Names of the Jews--Longevity--Reversible Names--Etymology of
Eve--Manifesto of the Emperor Nicholas--Binometrical
Verse--Gale of Rent 650
MISCELLANEOUS:--
Notes on Books, &c 655
Books and Odd Volumes wanted 656
Notices to Correspondents 656
Advertisements 657
* * * * *
Notes.
ST. STEPHEN'S DAY AND RILEY'S HOVEDEN.
In Roger de Hoveden's account of the accident which proved fatal to
Leopold, Duke of Austria, the jailer of Richard I. (Bohn's edit., vol. ii.
p. 345.), St. Stephen's Day, on which it occurred, is twice stated to be
_before_ Christmas Day, instead of after it. Is this an error of the
author, or of translator?[1] or are they right, and was St. Stephen's
martyrdom in those times commemorated on a different day from what it now
is? I cannot find, on reference to the authorities within my reach, that
this last was the case. Mr. Riley does not notice the discrepancy at all.
In the translation of this Volume, a few errors have come under my
observation, to which I beg to call Mr. R.'s attention: 1. In his note on
Corumphira's prophecy, at p. 36., he seems to forget that the Mahometan
year differs from the Julian by eleven or twelve days, and that in
consequence A. D. 1186 does not correspond to A. H. 564; in fact, the old
astrologer is perfectly correct in his chronology, more so than in his
predictions, many of which were signally falsified in the course of the
next few years. 2. A mountain frequently mentioned by his author as
projecting into the sea at the boundary of Catalonia and Valencia, and
called "Muncian," he says in a note at p. 151. is "probably Montserrat,"
which is far from either the sea or the frontier; the maps of Spain all
show, near the town of Vinaros on the east coast, a hill on the sea-shore
called "Monte Sia," which still, as then, forms the boundary in that
direction between the two provinces. 3. In his note at p. 156. on "Mount
Gebel," the translator says, "he (the author) probably means Stromboli;"
surely the name of Mongibello, and the mention of Catania a few lines
farther down should have shown him that Etna only could be meant, although
part of the mistake is due to Hoveden himself, who talks of it as a
separate island from Sicily. Mr. Riley's other geographical notes are
generally {638} correct, though a little more pains might have greatly
increased their number, to the elucidation of his author's account of the
Crusaders' proceedings in the East. 4. At p. 249. a well-known passage from
Horace is ascribed to Juvenal.
J. S. WARDEN.
[Footnote 1: The text in the _Scriptores post Bedam_ reads:--"Eodam anno
die S. Stephani protomartyris _infra_ natale Domini."]
* * * * *
THE HOLY TRINITY CHURCH, HULL.
There is an error in the heading of one of the architectural notes appended
to the _Proceedings of the Arch. Inst._ held at York in 1846. From the
description which is given (p. 38.), it is plain that the above church is
the one to which the note refers; not that of St. Mary's, which is the
title of the article.
The material of the whole church is not, also, "brick with stone
dressings," as the note informs us, only the chancel, south porch, and
south transept; all the rest is of stone, and in a very sad state of
repair. A few years ago, the south transept was restored; but the
ornamental part was worked in such bad stone, that the crockets of the
pinnacles have already begun to moulder away. It is a curious fact, that
Bishop Lyttleton, who visited Hull in 1756 for the express purpose of
"examining the walls of the town, and the materials of which the Holy
Trinity Church is constructed," should have stated in the _Archaeologia_
(vol. i. p. 146.) that there did not appear to be "_a single brick_ in or
about the whole fabric, except a few in the south porch, placed there of
late years."
There is a matter of great archaeological interest connected with the part
of the church which is built of brick; for, as there is reason to believe
that the chancel was raised in the year 1285, there is good foundation for
the supposition, that Hull was "the first town to restore in this country
the useful art of brickmaking" (Frost's _Hull_, p. 138.). The walls of the
town, which were erected by royal licence in 1322, and still standing with
their gates and towers in the time of Leland and Camden, are described by
them as being of brick. Leland also says (_Itin._, edit. Hearne, fol. 53.)
that the greater part of the "houses of the town at that tyme (Richard II.)
was made al of brike."
R. W. ELLIOT.
Clifton.
* * * * *
Minor Notes.
_Italian-English_ (Vol. viii., p. 436.).--The following wholesale
assassination of the English language was perpetrated in the form of a
circular, and distributed among the British residents at Naples in 1832:
"Joseph the Cook, he offer to one illuminated public and most
particular for British knowing men in general one remarkable, pretty,
famous, and splendid collection of old goods, all quite new, excavated
from private personal diggings. He sells cooked clays, old marble
stones, with basso-relievos, with stewing-pots, brass sacrificing pots,
and antik lamps. Here is a stocking of calves heads and feets for
single ladies and amateurs travelling. Also old coppers and
candlesticks; with Nola jugs, Etruscan saucers, and much more
intellectual minds articles; all entitling him to learned man's
inspection to examine him, and supply it with illustrious protection,
of which he hope full and valorous satisfaction.
"N. B.--He make all the old thing brand new for gentlemans who has
collections, and wishes to change him. He have also one manner quite
original for make join two sides of different monies; producing one
medallion, all indeed unique, and advantage him to sell by exportation
for strange cabinets and museums of the exterior potentates."
V. T. STERNBERG.
_American Names._--In the Journal of Thomas Moore, lately published in Lord
John Russell's memoirs of the poet, is the following passage, under date of
October 18, 1818:
"Some traveller in America mentions having met a man called Romulus
Riggs; whether true or not, very like their mixture of the classical
and the low."
The name was borne by a very respectable man, who, in the year 1801, was in
partnership with his brother Remus Riggs, as a broker in Georgetown, in the
district of Columbia. Romulus, who survived his brother, afterwards became
an eminent merchant in Philadelphia, where he died a few years ago.
UNEDA.
Philadelphia.
_Rulers of the World in 1853._--Perhaps the following table, which I have
recently met with in a foreign journal, may be thought of sufficient
interest to make a Note of. In these unsettled times, and in case of a
general war, how much might it be changed!
There are at present eighty-three empires, monarchies, republics,
principalities, duchies, and electorates.
There are six emperors, including his sable highness, Faustin I. of St.
Domingo; sixteen kings, numbering among them Jamaco, King of all the
Mosquitoes, and also those of Dahomey and the Sandwich Islands; five
queens, including Ranavalona of Madagascar, and Pomare of the Society
Islands; eighteen presidents, ten reigning princes, seven grand dukes, ten
dukes, one pope, two sultans, of Borneo and Turkey; two governors, of Entre
Rios and Corrientes; one viceroy, of Egypt; one shah, of Persia; one imaun,
of Muscat; one ameer, of Cabul; one bey, of Tunis; and lastly; one
director, of Nicaragua.
W. W.
Malta.
{639}
_Revocation of the Edict of Nantes._--The immense loss sustained by France
in all her great interests, as affecting her civil and religious liberties,
her commerce, trade, arts, sciences, not to speak of the unutterable
anguish inflicted upon hundred of thousands of individuals (among whom were
the writer's maternal ancestors,--their name, Courage), by the revocation
of the Edict of Nantes, has lately called into action the pens of some
industrious and talented men of letters, among whom M. Weiss is one of the
most meritorious. His interesting work, I observe, is about to receive an
English dress. In the shape of a Note through your medium, in order that
the translator may avail himself of information which, possibly, may not
have reached him, it should be known that Mr. William Jones, one of the
highly respected and accomplished _employes_ of the British Museum, has
written a letter to the _Journal des Debats_ (inserted in its number of
Nov. 30, and signed with his name), containing farther information of a
painfully-absorbing nature, from documents in the Museum, respecting the
_dragonnades_, and the sufferings and persecutions of a French pastor.
JOHN MACRAY.
Oxford.
* * * * *
Queries.
DERIVATION OF SILO.
Can you or any of your correspondents inform me what is the derivation of
the word _silo_?
For many years after the colony of New South Wales was founded | 2,298.263051 |
2023-11-16 18:55:22.4383830 | 2,796 | 9 |
Produced by David Widger
TWICE TOLD TALES
SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
O! I have climbed high, and my reward is small. Here I stand, with
wearied knees, earth, indeed, at a dizzy depth below, but heaven far,
far beyond me still. O that I could soar up into the very zenith, where
man never breathed, nor eagle ever flew, and where the ethereal azure
melts away from the eye, and appears only a deepened shade of
nothingness! And yet I shiver at that cold and solitary thought. What
clouds are gathering in the golden west, with direful intent against the
brightness and the warmth of this dimmer afternoon! They are ponderous
air-ships, black as death, and freighted with the tempest; and at
intervals their thunder, the signal-guns of that unearthly squadron,
rolls distant along the deep of heaven. These nearer heaps of fleecy
vapor--methinks I could roll and toss upon them the whole day long!--seem
scattered here and there, for the repose of tired pilgrims through
the sky. Perhaps--for who can tell?--beautiful spirits are disporting
themselves there, and will bless my mortal eye with the brief appearance
of their curly locks of golden light, and laughing faces, fair and faint
as the people of a rosy dream. Or, where the floating mass so
imperfectly obstructs the color of the firmament, a slender foot and
fairy limb, resting too heavily upon the frail support, may be thrust
through, and suddenly withdrawn, while longing fancy follows them in
vain. Yonder again is an airy archipelago, where the sunbeams love to
linger in their journeyings through space. Every one of those little
clouds has been dipped and steeped in radiance, which the slightest
pressure might disengage in silvery profusion, like water wrung from a
sea-maid's hair. Bright they are as a young man's visions, and, like
them, would be realized in chillness, obscurity, and tears. I will look
on them no more.
In three parts of the visible circle, whose centre is this spire, I
discern cultivated fields, villages, white country-seats, the waving
lines of rivulets, little placid lakes, and here and there a rising
ground, that would fain be termed a hill. On the fourth side is the sea,
stretching away towards a viewless boundary, blue and calm, except where
the passing anger of a shadow flits across its surface, and is gone.
Hitherward, a broad inlet penetrates far into the land; on the verge of
the harbor, formed by its extremity, is a town; and over it am I, a
watchman, all-heeding and unheeded. O that the multitude of chimneys
could speak, like those of Madrid, and betray, in smoky whispers, the
secrets of all who, since their first foundation, have assembled at the
hearths within! O that the Limping Devil of Le Sage would perch beside
me here, extend his wand over this contiguity of roofs, uncover every
chamber, and make me familiar with their inhabitants! The most desirable
mode of existence might be that of a spiritualized Paul Pry hovering
invisible round man and woman, witnessing their deeds, searching into
their hearts, borrowing brightness from their felicity, and shade from
their sorrow, and retaining no emotion peculiar to himself. But none of
these things are possible; and if I would know interior of brick walls,
or the mystery of human bosoms, I can but guess.
Yonder is a fair street, extending north and south. The stately mansions
are placed each on its carpet of verdant grass, and a long flight of
steps descends from every door to the pavement. Ornamental trees--the
broad-leafed horse-chestnut, the elm so lofty and bending, the graceful
but infrequent willow, and others whereof I know not the names--grow
thrivingly among brick and stone. The oblique rays of the sun are
intercepted by these green citizens, and by the houses, so that one side
of the street is a shaded and pleasant walk. On its whole extent there
is now but a single passenger, advancing from the upper end; and be,
unless distance and the medium of a pocket spyglass do him more than
justice, is a fine young man of twenty. He saunters slowly forward,
slapping his left hand with his folded gloves, bending his eyes upon the
pavement, and sometimes raising them to throw a glance before him.
Certainly, he has a pensive air. Is he in doubt, or in debt? Is he, if
the question be allowable, in love? Does he strive to be melancholy and
gentlemanlike? Or, is he merely overcome by the heat? But I bid him
farewell, for the present. The door of one of the houses--an
aristocratic edifice, with curtains of purple and gold waving from the
windows--is now opened, and down the steps come two ladies, swinging
their parasols, and lightly arrayed for a summer ramble. Both are young,
both are pretty; but methinks the left-hand lass is the fairer of the
twain; and, though she be so serious at this moment, I could swear that
there is a treasure of gentle fun within her. They stand talking a
little while upon the steps, and finally proceed up the street.
Meantime, as their faces are now turned from me, I may look elsewhere.
Upon that wharf, and down the corresponding street, is a busy contrast to
the quiet scene which I have just noticed. Business evidently has its
centre there, and many a man is wasting the summer afternoon in labor and
anxiety, in losing riches, or in gaining them, when he would be wiser to
flee away to some pleasant country village, or shaded lake in the forest,
or wild and cool seabeach. I see vessels unlading at the wharf, and
precious merchandise strewn upon the ground, abundantly as at the bottom
of the sea, that market whence no goods return, and where there is no
captain nor supercargo to render an account of sales. Here, the clerks
are diligent with their paper and pencils, and sailors ply the block and
tackle that hang over the hold, accompanying their toil with cries, long
drawn and roughly melodious, till the bales and puncheons ascend to upper
air. At a little distance, a group of gentlemen are assembled round the
door of a warehouse. Grave seniors be they, and I would wager--if it
were safe, in these times, to be responsible for any one--that the least
eminent among them might vie with old Vicentio, that incomparable
trafficker of Pisa. I can even select the wealthiest of the company.
It is the elderly personage, in somewhat rusty black, with powdered hair,
the superfluous whiteness of which is visible upon the cape of his coat.
His twenty ships are wafted on some of their many courses by every breeze
that blows, and his name--I will venture to say, though I know it not--is
a familiar sound among the far-separated merchants of Europe and the
Indies.
But I bestow too much of my attention in this quarter. On looking again
to the long and shady walk, I perceive that the two fair girls have
encountered the young man. After a sort of shyness in the recognition,
he turns back with them. Moreover, he has sanctioned my taste in regard
to his companions by placing himself on the inner side of the pavement,
nearest the Venus to whom I--enacting on a steeple-top, the part of Paris
on the top of Ida--adjudged the golden apple.
In two streets, converging at right angles towards my watchtower,
I distinguish three different processions. One is a proud array of
voluntary soldiers, in bright uniform, resembling, from the height whence
I look down, the painted veterans that garrison the windows of a toyshop.
And yet, it stirs my heart; their regular advance, their nodding plumes,
the sunflash on their bayonets and musket-barrels, the roll of their
drums ascending past me, and the fife ever and anon piercing
through,--these things have wakened a warlike fire, peaceful though I be.
Close to their rear marches a battalion of schoolboys, ranged in crooked
and irregular platoons, shouldering sticks, thumping a harsh and unripe
clatter from an instrument of tin, and ridiculously aping the intricate
manoeuvres of the foremost band. Nevertheless, as slight differences are
scarcely perceptible from a church-spire, one might be tempted to ask,
"Which are the boys?" or, rather, "Which the men?" But, leaving these,
let us turn to the third procession, which, though sadder in outward
show, may excite identical reflections in the thoughtful mind. It is a
funeral. A hearse, drawn by a black and bony steed, and covered by a
dusty pall; two or three coaches rumbling over the stones, their drivers
half asleep; a dozen couple of careless mourners in their every-day
attire; such was not the fashion of our fathers, when they carried a
friend to his grave. There is now no doleful clang of the bell to
proclaim sorrow to the town. Was the King of Terrors more awful in those
days than in our own, that wisdom and philosophy have been able to
produce this change? Not so. Here is a proof that he retains his proper
majesty. The military men, and the military boys, are wheeling round the
corner, and meet the funeral full in the face. Immediately the drum is
silent, all but the tap that regulates each simultaneous footfall. The
soldiers yield the path to the dusty hearse and unpretending train, and
the children quit their ranks, and cluster on the sidewalks, with
timorous and instinctive curiosity. The mourners enter the churchyard at
the base of the steeple, and pause by an open grave among the
burial-stones; the lightning glimmers on them as they lower down the
coffin, and the thunder rattles heavily while they throw the earth upon
its lid. Verily, the shower is near, and I tremble for the young man and
the girls, who have now disappeared from the long and shady street.
How various are the situations of the people covered by the roofs beneath
me, and how diversified are the events at this moment befalling them; The
new-born, the aged, the dying, the strong in life, and the recent dead
are in the chambers of these many mansions. The full of hope, the happy,
the miserable, and the desperate dwell together within the circle of my
glance. In some of the houses over which my eyes roam so coldly, guilt
is entering into hearts that are still tenanted by a debased and trodden
virtue,--guilt is on the very edge of commission, and the impending deed
might be averted; guilt is done, and the criminal wonders if it be
irrevocable. There are broad thoughts struggling in my mind, and, were I
able to give them distinctness, they would make their way in eloquence.
Lo! the raindrops are descending.
The clouds, within a little time, have gathered over all the sky, hanging
heavily, as if about to drop in one unbroken mass upon the earth. At
intervals, the lightning flashes from their brooding hearts, quivers,
disappears, and then comes the thunder, travelling slowly after its
twin-born flame. A strong wind has sprung up, howls through the darkened
streets, and raises the dust in dense bodies, to rebel against the
approaching storm. The disbanded soldiers fly, the funeral has already
vanished like its dead, and all people hurry homeward,--all that have a
home; while a few lounge by the corners, or trudge on desperately, at
their leisure. In a narrow lane, which communicates with the shady
street, I discern the rich old merchant, putting himself to the top of
his speed, lest the rain should convert his hair-powder to a paste.
Unhappy | 2,298.458423 |
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_The_ CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE FRANK'S RANCH
HOWARD R. GARIS
[Illustration: "YOU'VE GOT TO GROAN AND PRETEND YOU'VE BEEN SHOT."
_The Curlytops at Uncle Frank's Ranch_ _Page 7_]
THE CURLYTOPS
AT
UNCLE FRANK'S RANCH
OR
_Little Folks on Ponyback_
BY
HOWARD R. GARIS
AUTHOR OF "THE CURLYTOPS SERIES," "BEDTIME
STORIES," "UNCLE WIGGILY SERIES," ETC.
_Illustrations by
JULIA GREENE_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE CURLYTOPS SERIES
By HOWARD R. GARIS
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
_THE CURLYTOPS AT CHERRY FARM
Or, Vacation Days in the Country_
_THE CURLYTOPS ON STAR ISLAND
Or, Camping Out With Grandpa_
_THE CURLYTOPS SNOWED IN
Or, Grand Fun With Skates and Sleds_
_THE CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE FRANK'S RANCH
Or, Little Folks on Ponyback_
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, New York
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE FRANK'S RANCH
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I TROUBLE'S TUMBLE 1
II NICKNACK AND TROUBLE 13
III OFF FOR THE WEST 28
IV THE COLLISION 40
V AT RING ROSY RANCH 55
VI COWBOY FUN 63
VII BAD NEWS 72
VIII A QUEER NOISE 87
IX THE SICK PONY 101
X A SURPRISED DOCTOR 114
XI TROUBLE MAKES A LASSO 122
XII THE BUCKING BRONCO 140
XIII MISSING CATTLE 153
XIV LOOKING FOR INDIANS 167
XV TROUBLE "HELPS" 175
XVI ON THE TRAIL 189
XVII THE CURLYTOPS ALONE 196
XVIII LOST 209
XIX THE HIDDEN VALLEY 222
XX BACK TO RING ROSY 237
THE CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE FRANK'S RANCH
CHAPTER I
TROUBLE'S TUMBLE
"Say, Jan, this isn't any fun!"
"What do you want to play then, Ted?"
Janet Martin looked at her brother, who was dressed in one of his
father's coats and hats while across his nose was a pair of spectacles
much too large for him. Janet, wearing one of her mother's skirts, was
sitting in a chair holding a doll.
"Well, I'm tired of playing doctor, Jan, and giving your make-believe
sick doll bread pills. I want to do something else," and Teddy began
taking off the coat, which was so long for him that it dragged on the
ground.
"Oh, I know what we can do that'll be lots of fun!" cried Janet, getting
up from the chair so quickly that she forgot about her doll, which fell
to the floor with a crash that might have broken her head.
"Oh, my _dear_!" cried Janet, as she had often heard her mother call
when Baby William tumbled and hurt himself. "Oh, are you hurt?" and
Janet clasped the doll in her arms, and hugged it as though it were a
real child.
"Is she busted?" Ted demanded, but he did not ask as a real doctor might
inquire. In fact, he had stopped playing doctor.
"No, she isn't hurt, I guess," Jan answered, feeling of her doll's head.
"I forgot all about her being in my lap. Oh, aren't you going to play
any more, Ted?" she asked as she saw her brother toss the big coat on a
chair and take off the spectacles.
"No. I want to do something else. This is no fun!"
"Well, let's make-believe you're sick and I can be a Red Cross nurse,
like some of those we saw in the drugstore window down the street,
making bandages for the soldiers. You could be a soldier, Ted, and I
could be the nurse, and I'd make some sugar pills for you, if you don't
like the rolled-up bread ones you gave my doll."
Teddy Martin thought this over for a few seconds. He seemed to like it.
And then he shook his head.
"No," he answered his sister, "I couldn't be a soldier."
"Why not?"
"'Cause I haven't got a gun and there isn't any tent."
"We could make a tent with a sheet off the bed like we do lots of times.
Put it over a chair, you know."
"But I haven't a gun," Teddy went on. He knew that he and Janet could
make a tent, for they had often done it before.
"Couldn't you take a broom for a gun?" Janet asked. "I'll get it from
the kitchen."
"Pooh! What good is a broom for a gun? I want one that shoots! Anyhow I
haven't a uniform, and a soldier can't go to war without a uniform or a
sword or a gun. I'm not going to play that!"
Janet did not know what to say for a few seconds. Truly a soldier would
not be much of one without a gun or a uniform, even if he was in a tent.
But the little girl had not given up yet.
The day was a rainy one. There was no school, for it was Saturday, and
staying in the house was no great fun. Janet wanted her brother to stay
and play with her and she knew she must do something to make him. For a
while he had been content to play that he was Dr. Thompson, come to give
medicine to Jan's sick doll. But Teddy had become tired of this after
paying half a dozen visits and leaving pills made by rolling bread
crumbs together.
Teddy laid aside his father's old hat and scratched his head. That is he
tried to, but his head was so covered with tightly twisted curls that
the little boy's fingers were fairly entangled in them.
"Say!" he exclaimed, "I wish my hair didn't curl so much! It's too long.
I'm going to ask mother if I can't have it cut."
"I wish I could have mine cut," sighed Janet. "Mine's worse to comb than
yours is, Ted."
"Yes, I know. And it always curls more on a rainy day."
Both children had the same curly hair. It was really beautiful, but they
did not quite appreciate it, even though many of their friends, and some
persons who saw them for the first time, called them "Curlytops." Indeed
the tops of their heads were very curly.
"Oh, I know how we can do it!" suddenly cried Janet, just happening to
think of something.
"Do what?" asked her brother.
"Play the soldier game. You can pretend you were caught by the enemy and
your gun and uniform were taken away. Then you can be hurt and I'll be
the Red Cross nurse and take care of you in the tent. I'll get some real
sugar for pills, too! Nora'll give me some. She's in the kitchen now
making a cake."
"Maybe she'd give you a piece of cake, too," suggested Teddy.
"Maybe," agreed Janet. "I'll go and ask her."
"Ask her for some chocolate," added Ted. "I guess, if I've got to be
sick, I'd like chocolate pills'stead of sugar."
"All right," said Janet, as she hurried downstairs from the playroom to
the kitchen. In a little while she came back with a plate on which were
two slices of chocolate cake, while on one edge of it were some crumbs
of chocolate icing.
"I'll make pills of that after we eat the cake," Janet said. "You can
pretend the cake made you sick if you want to, Ted."
"Pooh! who ever heard of a soldier getting sick on cake? Anyhow they
don't have cake in the army--lessen they capture it from the enemy."
"Well, you can pretend you did that," said Janet. "Now I'll put my doll
away," she went on, as she finished her piece of cake, "and we'll play
the soldier game. I'll get some red cloth to make the cross."
Janet looked "sweet," as her mother said afterward, when she had wound a
white cloth around her head, a red cross, rather ragged and crooked,
being pinned on in front.
The tent was made by draping a sheet from the bed across two chairs, and
under this shelter Teddy crawled. He stretched out on a blanket which
Janet had spread on the floor to be the hospital cot.
"Now you must groan, Ted," she said, as she looked in a glass to see if
her headpiece and cross were on straight.
"Groan? What for?"
"'Cause you've been hurt in the war, or else you're sick from the cake."
"Pooh! a little bit of cake like _that_ wouldn't make _me_ sick. You've
got to give me a _lot_ more if you want me to be real sick."
"Oh, Teddy Martin! I'm not going to play if you make fun like that all
the while. You've got to groan and pretend you've been shot. Never mind
about the cake."
"All right. I'll be shot then. But you've got to give me a lot of
chocolate pills to make me get better."
"I'm not going to give 'em to you all at once, Ted Martin!"
"Well, maybe in two doses then. How many are there?"
"Oh, there's a lot. I'm going to take some myself."
"You are not!" and Teddy sat up so quickly that he hit the top of the
sheet-tent with his head and made it slide from the chair.
"There! Look what you did!" cried Janet. "Now you've gone and spoiled
everything!"
"Oh, well, I'll fix it," said Ted, rather sorry for what he had done.
"But you can't eat my chocolate pills."
"I can so!"
"You cannot! Who ever heard of a nurse taking the medicine from a sick
soldier?"
"Well, anyhow--well, wouldn't you give me some chocolate candy if you
had some, and I hadn't?" asked Janet.
"Course I would, Jan. I'm not stingy!"
"Well, these pills are just like chocolate candy, and if I give 'em all
to you----"
"Oh, well, then I'll let you eat _some_," agreed Ted. "But you wanted me
to play this game of bein' a sick soldier, and if I'm sick I've got to
have the medicine."
"Yes, I'll give you the most," Janet agreed. "Now you lie down and groan
and I'll hear you out on the battlefield and come and save your life."
So, after Janet had fixed the sheet over him again, Teddy lay back on
the blanket and groaned his very best.
"Oh, it sounds as real as anything!" exclaimed the little girl in
delight. "Do it some more, Ted!"
Thereupon her brother groaned more loudly until Janet stopped him by
dropping two or three chocolate pills into his opened mouth.
"Oh! Gurr-r-r-r! Ugh! Say, you'most choked me!" spluttered Ted, as he
sat up and chewed the chocolate.
"Oh, I didn't mean to," said Janet as she ate a pill or two herself.
"Now you lie down and go to sleep, 'cause I've got a lot more sick
soldiers to go to see."
"Don't give 'em any of my chocolate pills," cautioned Ted. "I need 'em
all to make me get better."
"I'll only make-believe give them some," promised Janet.
She and her brother played this game for a while, and Teddy liked it--as
long as the chocolate pills were given him. But when Janet had only a
few left and Teddy was about to say he was tired of lying down, someone
came into the playroom and a voice asked:
"What you doin'?"
"Playing soldier," answered Janet. "You mustn't drop your 'g' letters,
Trouble. Mother doesn't like it."
"I want some chocolate," announced the little boy, whose real name was
William Martin, but who was more often called Trouble--because he got in
so much of it, you know.
"There's only one pill left. Can I give it to him, Ted?" asked Janet.
"Yes, Janet. I've had enough. Anyhow, I know something else to play now.
It's lots of fun!"
"What?" asked Janet eagerly. It was still raining hard and she wanted
her brother to stay in the house with her.
"We'll play horse," went on Ted. "I'll be a bucking bronco like those
Uncle Frank told us about on his ranch. We'll make a place with chairs
where they keep the cow ponies and the broncos. I forget what Uncle
Frank called it."
"I know," said Janet. "It's cor--corral."
"Corral!" exclaimed Ted. "That's it! We'll make a corral of some chairs
and I'll be a bucking bronco. That's a horse that won't let anybody ride
on its back," the little boy explained | 2,298.46209 |
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LETTERS OF A LUNATIC,
OR
A BRIEF EXPOSITION OF MY UNIVERSITY LIFE,
DURING THE YEARS 1853-54.
BY
G. J. ADLER, A. M.,
PROFESSOR OF GERMAN LITERATURE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF THE CITY OF
NEW-YORK, MEMBER OF THE AMERICAN ORIENTAL, AND OF THE AMERICAN
ETHNOLOGICAL SOCIETIES, &C., &C.
Spectatum admissi risum teneatis, amici?
Horat. Ars Poet. v. 5.
[Greek: me ny toi ou chraisme skeptron kai stemma theoio]!
Iliad I. v. 28.
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR.
1854.
PREFATORY NOTE TO THE PUBLIC.
IN a recent publication on German Literature, I hinted to the reader my
design of giving an account of an event in my personal history, which I
alleged to be the cause of an absentment from my proper place of study,
and consequently of an injustice to my public. I now proceed to fulfil
my promise, by offering to my personal friends, and to such as are
interested in matters of academic education and morality, a few of the
many letters written by me during the past year. I might have added
others, both of an anterior and of a more recent date. The question
however was not to write a volume, but simply a brief exposition, of a
page or two from my life in connection with a public institution of the
metropolis, and thus to bring a matter of private and iniquitous dispute
before the forum of the public, after having vainly sought redress in
private. My main object was of course to vindicate and defend my
character, my professional honor and my most sacred rights as a rational
man and as a public educator, against the invasions of narrow-minded and
unjust aggressors, whose machinations have for several years been busily
at work in subverting what other men have reared before them, in
retarding and impeding what the intelligence of our age and country is
eager to accelerate and to promote. The much agitated question of
University reform and of the liberty of academic instruction, which of
late years has engaged the attention of some of the best intellects on
both sides of the Atlantic, and which within a month past has again
occupied the public mind, and even called forth legislative intervention
may, however, perhaps likewise receive some additional light from the
following pages, which I now submit, not from any motive of vanity, or
from the expectation of self-aggrandisement or of histrionic applause;
but from a sense of duty to the cause of liberal culture and of sound
morality, to which I have devoted many a year of laborious effort and of
earnest thought.
NEW-YORK UNIVERSITY, } G. J. A.
_June_, 1854. }
LETTER I.
New-York University, Sept. 10th, 1853.
Rev. Isaac Ferris, D. D.
Dear Sir,--I deem it a duty of justice towards myself, as well as to the
honor of the Institution of which I am an officer and yourself the
newly-elected head, to bring to your consideration a few circumstances
from the history of our incidental intercourse during the past winter,
which at the time of occurrence, struck me with painful surprise, and
which I cannot suffer to pass without my most earnest protestations.
1st, During the earlier part of the winter, in passing out of my
lecture-room one morning, I met you in the hall of the University with a
pale face, asking me in the most uncalled-for and singular manner the
strange question:--"_Are you my superior?_"--The reply, which I ought to
have written on the spot to such an enquiry, I would now make by saying,
that such an idea never occurred to me, and that, as I had never seen
any thing of your presence in the actual performance of duty in the
University at the time of my instruction to the students, such an idea
_never could have suggested itself_ to me. The question of superiority
or inferiority being, moreover, of a relative nature and one that (in
our profession) can only be settled by actual services rendered to the
cause of letters and by actual acknowledgements obtained in a proper
manner and from competent judges, it would be folly for me or for any
one else to attempt to place it on any other ground; and for that reason
I never touch it, although I am always ready to acknowledge both moral
and intellectual superiority, wherever I become aware of its existence.
2d, On a second occasion, I met you by accident in the hall before my
door, when to my equal surprise, you informed me by indefinite murmurs
and in the same painful half-way-utterance, "_that I had the chapel_,"
and "_that I was in the next church_," pointing to Dr. Hutton's. This
cannot possibly be the case, as I am not of your persuasion in matters
of religion, and if I am to communicate any instruction in the
Institution, it must be done in the usual way.
3d, During the horrid disorders within the Institution the past winter,
I repeatedly heard vociferous declamations in the adjoining room, and at
one time the famous words of Patrick Henry were declaimed by Mr. Bennet
(I think) of the last class: "_Give me liberty, or give me death!_"
fearfully emphasized, and _your own voice echoed_: "_Death you shall
have!_" As at that particular time I underwent the crucifixion of
college-disorder, at the same time receiving occasional intimations that
either in my speculations or in my instruction _I was going too far_,
and that on that account it was necessary for me to leave, I cannot
possibly be mistaken in supposing, _that both that horrible word of
yours_, as well as the frequent scandalous vociferations were intended
as an insult for me; (and, _if that is so_, I would most respectfully
beg leave to reciprocate the compliment).
4th, At the dinner of the Alumni my attention along with that of all the
rest of the assembled guests was directed towards you, at the time you
rose to speak. While yet standing, you turned towards me with a peculiar
expression of countenance (which I beg you to allow me to reciprocate)
and in an under-tone (distinctly audible to me) asked the guests of the
opposite side of the room (between whom and yourself there appears to
have been a collusion): _Shall I have to become the step-father of that
man?_ and again in the same tone and with the same expression of
countenance: "_Next year I shall see another man in that man's place!_"
The subsequent exchange of salutations _over Prof._ Martin was ironical
on your part, and independently of the rudeness of the act, wholly out
of place. No one else present was treated in the same way.--In regard to
the last expression, with which you honored me on that occasion, I would
say, that by the repetition of the scenes of immorality and disorder of
which this building was the theatre (in the most odious sense of that
term) during the past year, such an event might be possible, not however
without some troublesome resistance on my part and _the prospect of
another change_.--In regard to the first question, I will myself take
the responsibility of a reply, by frankly informing you, that, although
I do not feel the slightest inclination to question the responsible
honor of your office, and with due deference to the reputation for moral
integrity (of your _scholarship_ I have never seen any proof), which
must have secured the same to you, I nevertheless most emphatically
decline such paternal supervision--having for many years past been
myself of full age, and even won a place _as a man_ among the men and
scholars of our land. And this I purpose to maintain, whether I am in
the University, or out of it. I must, therefore, beg you _to take back
the offensive words at the next dinner as publicly as they were
uttered_, or else I shall be obliged to take measures in defence of my
honor, which, painful and disagreeable as they would be to me, would
nevertheless be a necessary duty of self-protection. As for my peculiar
views and position with reference to questions of scholarship and
education, I have undergone no change of opinion whatever, nor could I
undergo one, unless it were the necessary consequence of a rational
conviction; and I shall have my hands full for some years to come, to
write out and publish what I have but imperfectly and in a desultory
manner indicated in my lectures and conversations; and while I am
convinced that in many respects I have (as is usual) been voluntarily
and involuntarily misunderstood, I am sure, that in the main I am right,
and entitled to a hearing or a reading, whether, as has been intimated
to me, I go too far or not.--In regard to the many scandalous
interruptions by spectral noises (by day and by night), of which I well
remember the chief authors, and in regard to my other persecutions, I am
aware, that they can only be the subject of commiseration and of merited
contempt, and that under the given circumstances, it would be difficult
to obtain redress or justice. I shall, however, procure some legal
advice on the subject. Allow me, in conclusion, Sir, to assure you of
the absence of all hostile personal feeling on my part. I have said what
my duty imperatively demands, and my silence would have made me a
villain, justly liable to perpetual abuse.
I am, Dear Sir,
with the most distinguished consideration,
Yours, &c.
G. J. Adler.
LETTER II.
New-York University, Sept. 12th, 1853.
To his Honor, the Mayor }
of the city of New-York.}
Dear Sir,--I deem it my duty as a citizen of New-York, and a member of a
literary institution, of which your Honor is _ex-officio_ an officer, to
apprize you of a fact of my personal history during | 2,298.462166 |
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PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON
Designed to provide in a series
of volumes, each complete in itself,
the cream of our national humour,
contributed by the masters of
comic draughtsmanship and the
leading wits of the age to "Punch,"
from its beginning in 1841 to the
present day.
* * * * *
MR. PUNCH AT THE PLAY
[Illustration]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Actor (on the stage)._ "Me mind is made up!"
_Voice from the Gallery._ "What abeaout yer fice?"]
* * * * *
MR. P | 2,298.554345 |
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[Illustration: "It has never occurred to one of you to ask _why_ I am
different from other women--to ask just what made me so!"]
THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE
BY KATHLEEN NORRIS
_Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert_
1915
CHAPTER I
To Emeline | 2,298.55827 |
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ARTHURIAN ROMANCES
Unrepresented in Malory's
"Morte d'Arthur"
_No. III_
Guingamor, Lanval, Tyolet,
Le Bisclaveret.
ARTHURIAN ROMANCES
UNREPRESENTED IN MALORY'S
"MORTE D'ARTHUR"
I. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT.
A Middle-English Romance retold in Modern Prose, with Introduction
and Notes, by JESSIE L. WESTON. With Designs by M. M. CRAWFORD. 2nd
Edition, 1909. 2s. net.
II. TRISTAN AND ISEULT.
Rendered into English from the German of Gottfried of Strassburg
by JESSIE L. WESTON. With Designs by CAROLINE WATTS. Two vols. 4th
Edition, 1910. 4s. net.
III. GUINGAMOR, LANVAL, TYOLET, LE BISCLAVERET.
Four Lays rendered into English Prose from the French of Marie de
France and others by JESSIE L. WESTON. With Designs by CAROLINE WATTS.
2nd Edition, 1910. 2s. net.
IV. MORIEN.
Translated for the first time from the original Dutch by JESSIE L.
WESTON. With Frontispiece and Designed Title-Page by CAROLINE WATTS.
1901. 2s. net.
V. LE BEAUS DESCONNUS. CLIGES.
Two Old English Metrical Romances rendered into prose by JESSIE L.
WESTON. With | 2,298.562344 |
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LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG
By Charles Reade
PREFACE
SHOULD these characters, imbedded in carpet incidents, interest the
public at all, they will probably reappear in more potent scenes. This
design, which I may never live to execute, is, I fear, the only excuse
I can at present offer for some pages, forming the twelfth chapter of
this volume.
CHAPTER I.
NEARLY a quarter of a century ago, Lucy Fountain, a young lady of
beauty and distinction, was, by the death of her mother, her sole
surviving parent, left in the hands of her two trustees, Edward
Fountain, Esq., of Font Abbey, and Mr. Bazalgette, a merchant whose
wife was Mrs. Fountain's half-sister.
They agreed to lighten the burden by dividing it. She should spend
half the year with each trustee in turn, until marriage should take
her off their hands.
Our mild tale begins in Mr. Bazalgette's own house, two years after
the date of that arrangement.
The chit-chat must be your main clue to the characters. In life it is
the same. Men and women won't come to you ticketed, or explanation in
hand.
"Lucy, you are a great comfort in a house; it is so nice to have some
one to pour out one's heart to; my husband is no use at all."
"Aunt Bazalgette!"
"In that way. You listen to my faded illusions, to the aspirations of
a nature too finely organized, ah! to find its happiness in this
rough, selfish world. When I open my bosom to him, what does he do?
Guess now--whistles."
"Then I call that rude."
"So do I; and then he whistles more and more."
"Yes; but, aunt, if any serious trouble or grief fell upon you, you
would find Mr. Bazalgette a much greater comfort and a better stay
than poor spiritless me."
"Oh, if the house took fire and fell about our ears, he would come out
of his shell, no doubt; or if the children all died one after another,
poor dear little souls; but those great troubles only come in stories.
Give me a friend that can sympathize with the real hourly
mortifications of a too susceptible nature; sit on this ottoman, and
let me go on. Where was I when Jones came and interrupted us? They
always do just at the interesting point."
Miss Fountain's face promptly wreathed itself into an expectant smile.
She abandoned her hand and her ear, and leaned her graceful person
toward her aunt, while that lady murmured to her in low and thrilling
tones--his eyes, his long hair, his imaginative expressions, his
romantic projects of frugal love; how her harsh papa had warned Adonis
off the premises; how Adonis went without a word (as pale as death,
love), and soon after, in his despair, flung himself--to an ugly
heiress; and how this disappointment had darkened her whole life, and
so on.
Perhaps, if Adonis had stood before her now, rolling his eyes, and his
phrases hot from the annuals, the flourishing matron might have sent
him to the servants' hall with a wave of her white and jeweled hand.
But the melody disarms this sort of brutal criticism--a woman's voice
relating love's young dream; and then the picture--a matron still
handsome pouring into a lovely virgin's ear the last thing she ought;
the young beauty's eyes mimicking sympathy; the ripe beauty's soft,
delicious accents--purr! purr! purr!
Crash overhead! a window smashed aie! aie! clatter! clatter! screams
of infantine rage and feminine remonstrance, feet pattering, and a
general hullabaloo, cut the soft recital in two. The ladies clasped
hands, like guilty things surprised.
Lucy sprang to her feet; the oppressed one sank slowly and gracefully
back, inch by inch, on the ottoman, with a sigh of ostentatious
resignation, and gazed, martyr-like, on the chandelier.
"Will you not go up to the nursery?" cried Lucy, in a flutter.
"No, dear," replied the other, faintly, but as cool as a marble slab;
"you go; cast some of your oil upon those ever-troubled waters and
then come back and let us try once more."
Miss Fountain heard but half this sentence; she was already gliding up
the stairs. She opened the nursery door, and there stood in the middle
of the room "Original Sin." Its name after the flesh was Master
Reginald. It was half-past six, had been baptized in church, after
which every child becomes, according to polemic divines of the day, "a
little soul of Christian fire" until it goes to a public school. And
there it straddled, two scarlet cheeks puffed out with rage, soft
flaxen hair streaming, cerulean eyes glowing, the poker grasped in two
chubby fists. It had poked a window in vague ire, and now threatened
two females with extinction if they riled it any more.
The two grown-up women were discovered, erect, but flat, in distant
corners, avoiding the bayonet and trusting to their artillery.
"Wicked boy!"
"Naughty boy!" (grape.)
"Little ruffian!" etc.
And hints as to the ultimate destination of so sanguinary a soul
(round shot).
"Ah! here's miss. Oh, miss, we are so glad you are come up; don't go
anigh him, miss; he is a tiger."
Miss Fountain smiled, and went gracefully on one knee beside him. This
brought her angelic face level with the fallen cherub's. "What is the
matter, dear?" asked she, in a tone of soft pity.
The tiger was not prepared for this: he dropped his poker and flung
his little arm round his cousin's neck.
"I love YOU. Oh! oh! oh!"
"Yes, dear; then tell me, now--what is the matter? What have you been
doing?"
"Noth--noth--nothing--it's th--them been na--a--agging me!"
"Nagging you?" and she smiled at the word and a tiger's horror of it.
"Who has been nagging you, love?"
"Th--those--bit--bit--it." The word was unfortunately lost in a sob.
It was followed by red faces and two simultaneous yells of
remonstrance and objurgation.
"I must ask you to be silent a minute," said Miss Fountain, quietly.
"Reginald, what do you mean by--by--nagging?"
Reginald explained. "By nagging he meant--why--nagging."
"Well, then, what had they been doing to him?"
No; poor Reginald was not analytical, dialectical and critical, like
certain pedanticules who figure in story as children. He was a
terrible infant, not a horrible one.
"They won't fight and they won't make it up, and they keep nagging,"
was all could be got out of him.
"Come with me, dear," said Lucy, gravely.
"Yes," assented the tiger, softly, and went out awestruck, holding her
hand, and paddling three steps to each of her serpentine glides.
Seated in her own room, tiger at knee, she tried topics of admonition.
During these his eyes wandered about the room in search of matter more
amusing, so she was obliged to bring up her reserve.
"And no young lady will ever marry you."
"I don't want them to, cousin; I wouldn't let them; you will marry me,
because you promised."
"Did I?"
"Why, you know you did--upon your honor; and no lady or gentleman ever
breaks their word when they say that; you told me so yourself," added
he of the inconvenient memory.
"Ah! but there is another rule that I forgot to tell you."
"What is that?"
"That no lady ever marries a gentleman who has a violent temper."
"Oh, don't they?"
"No; they would be afraid. If you had a wife, and took up the poker,
she would faint away, and die--perhaps!"
"Oh, dear!"
"I should."
"But, cousin, you would not _want_ the poker taken to you; you
never nag."
"Perhaps that is because we are not married yet."
"What, then, when we are, shall you turn like the others?"
"Impossible to say."
"Well, then" (after a moment's hesitation), "I'll marry you all the
same."
"No! you forget; I shall be afraid until your temper mends."
"I'll mend it. It is mended now. See how good I am now," added he,
with self-admiration and a shade of surprise.
"I don't call this mending it, for I am not the one that offended you;
mending it is promising me never, never to call naughty names again.
How would you like to be called a dog?"
"I'd kill 'em."
"There, you see--then how can you expect poor nurse to like it?"
"You don't understand, cousin--Tom said to George the groom that Mrs.
Jones was an--old--stingy--b--"
"I don't want to hear anything about Tom."
"He is such a clever fellow, cousin. So I think, if Jones is an old
one, those two that keep nagging me must be young ones. What do you
think yourself?" asked Reginald, appealing suddenly to her candor.
"And no doubt it was Tom that taught you this other vulgar word
'nagging,'" was the evasive reply.
"No, that was mamma."
Lucy, wheeled quickly, and demanded severely of the terrible
infant: "Who is this Tom?"
"What! don't you know Tom?" Reginald began to lose a grain of his
respect for her. "Why, he helps in the stables; oh, cousin, he is such
a nice fellow!"
"Reginald, I shall never marry you if you keep company with grooms,
and speak their language."
"Well!" sighed the victim, "I'll give up Tom sooner than you."
"Thank you, dear; now I _am_ flattered. One struggle more; we
must go together and ask the nurses' pardon."
"Must we? ugh!"
"Yes--and kiss them--and make it up."
Reginald made a wry face; but, after a pause of solemn reflection, he
consented, on condition that Lucy would keep near him, and kiss him
directly afterward.
"I shall be sure to do that, because you will be a good boy then."
Outside the door Reginald paused: "I have a favor to ask you,
cousin--a great favor. You see I am so very little, and you are so
big; now the husband ought to be the biggest."
"Quite my own opinion, Reggy."
"Well, dear, now if you would be so kind as not to grow any older till
I catch you up, I shall be so very, very, very much obliged to you,
dear."
"I will try, Reggy. Nineteen is a very good age. I will stay there as
long as my friends will let me."
"Thank you, cousin."
"But that is not what we have in hand."
The nurses were just agreeing what a shame it was of miss to take that
little vagabond's part against them, when she opened the door. "Nurse,
here is a penitent--a young gentleman who is never going to use rude
words, or be violent and naughty again."
"La! miss, why, it is witchcraft--the dear child--soon up and soon
down, as a boy should."
"Beg par'n, nurse--beg par'n, Kitty," recited the dear child, late
tiger, and kissed them both hastily; and, this double formula gone
through, ran to Miss Fountain and kissed her with warmth, while the
nurses were reciting "little angel," "all heart," etc.
"To take the taste out of my mouth," explained the penitent, and was
left with his propitiated females; and didn't they nag him at short
intervals until sunset! But, strong in the contemplation of his future
union with Cousin Lucy, this great heart in a little body despised the
pins and needles that had goaded him to fury before.
Lucy went down to the drawing-room. She found Mrs. Bazalgette leaning
with one elbow on the table, her hand shading her high, polished
forehead; her grave face reflecting great mental power taxed to the
uttermost. So Newton looked, solving Nature.
Miss Fountain came in full of the nursery business, but, catching
sight of so much mind in labor, approached it with silent curiosity.
The oracle looked up with an absorbed air, and delivered itself very
slowly, with eye turned inward.
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IN THE FOREIGN LEGION
BY
ERWIN ROSEN
LONDON
DUCKWORTH & CO.
HENRIETTA ST. COVENT GARDEN
1910
_All rights reserved_
Printed by BALLANTYNE & CO. LIMITED
Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, London
PROLOGUE
Once upon a time there was a young student at a German University who
found life too fresh, too joyous, to care very much for professors and
college halls. Parental objections he disregarded. Things came to a
climax. And the very next "Schnelldampfer" had amongst its passengers a
boy in disgrace, bound for the country of unlimited possibilities in
search of a fortune....
The boy did not see very much of fortune, but met with a great deal of
hard work. His father did not consider New York a suitable place for
bad boys, and booked him a through passage to Galveston. There the
ex-student contracted hotel-bills, feeling very much out of place,
until a man who took a fancy to him gave him a job on a farm in Texas.
There the boy learnt a good deal about riding and shooting, but rather
less about cotton-raising. This was the beginning. In the course of
time he became translator of Associated Press Despatches for a big
German paper in St. Louis and started in newspaper life.
From vast New York to the Golden Gate his new profession carried him:
he was sent as a war correspondent to Cuba, he learned wisdom from the
kings of journalism, he paid flying visits to small Central American
republics whenever a new little revolution was in sight. Incidentally
he acquired a taste for adventure. Then the boy, a man now, was called
back to the Fatherland, to be a journalist, editor and novelist. He was
fairly successful. And a woman's love came into his life....
But he lost the jewel happiness. The continual fight for existence and
battling for daily bread of his American career, so full of ups and
downs, was hardly a good preparation for quiet respectability. Wise men
called him a fool, a fool unspeakable, who squandered his talents in
light-heartedness. And finally a time came when even his wife to be
could no more believe in him. The jewel happiness was lost....
The man at any rate recognised his loss; he recognised that life was no
longer worth living. A dull feeling of hopelessness came over him. And
in his hour of despair he remembered the blood of adventure in his
veins. A wild life he would have: he would forget.
He enlisted as a soldier in the French Foreign Legion.
* * * * *
That man was I. I had burned my boats behind me. Not a soul knew where
I was. Those who loved me should think that I was dead. I lived the
hard life of a legionnaire; I had no hopes, no aspirations, no thought
for the future; I worked and marched, slept, ate, and did what I was
ordered; suffered the most awful hardships and bore all kinds of
shameful treatment. And during sleepless nights I dreamed of love--love
lost for ever....
Some five hundred years I wore the uniform of the Legion. So at least
it seemed to me.
Then--the great change came. One day there was a letter for me.
Love had found me out across a continent. I read and read and read
again.
That was the turning-point of my life. I broke my fetters, and I fought
a hard fight for a new career....
Now the jewel happiness is mine.
ERWIN ROSEN
HAMBURG, 1909
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
LEGIONNAIRE!
In Belfort : Sunrays and fear : Madame and the waiter : The
French lieutenant : The enlistment office of the Foreign Legion
: Naked humanity : A surgeon with a lost sense of smell :
"Officier Allemand" : My new comrades : The lieutenant-colonel :
A night of tears 1
CHAPTER II
L'AFRIQUE
Transport of recruits on the railway : What our ticket did for
us and France : The patriotic conductor : Marseilles : The gate
of the French Colonies : The Colonial hotel : A study in blue
and yellow : On the Mediterranean : The ship's cook : The story
of the Royal Prince of Prussia at Saida : Oran : Wine and
legionnaires : How the deserter reached Spain and why he
returned 16
CHAPTER III
LEGIONNAIRE NUMBER 17889
French and American bugle-calls : Southward to the city of the
Foreign Legion : Sidi-bel-Abbes : The sergeant is not pleased :
A final fight with pride : The jokes of the Legion : The wise
<DW64> : Bugler Smith : I help a legionnaire to desert : The
Eleventh Company : How clothes are sold in the Legion : Number
17889 35
CHAPTER IV
THE FOREIGN LEGION'S BARRACKS
In the company's storeroom : Mr. Smith--American, legionnaire,
philosopher : The Legion's neatness : The favourite substantive
of the Foreign Legion : What the commander of the Old Guard said
at Waterloo : Old and young legionnaires : The canteen : Madame
la Cantiniere : The regimental feast : Strange men and strange
things : The skull : The prisoners' march : The wealth of
Monsieur Rassedin, legionnaire : "Rehabilitation" : The Koran
chapter of the Stallions 48
CHAPTER V
THE MILITARY VALUE OF THE FOREIGN REGIMENTS
A day's work as a recruit : Allez, hurry up! : The Legion's
etiquette : A morning's run : The "cercle d'enfer" and the lack
of soap : The main object of the Legion's training : Splendid
marchers : Independent soldiers : Forty kilometres a day :
Uniform, accoutrements, baggage, victualling : The training of
the legionnaire in detail : The legionnaire as a practical man :
Specialties of the Legion : Programme for a week in the Legion :
The legionnaire as a labourer 77
CHAPTER VI
"THE LEGION GETS NO PAY"
The money troubles of the Legion : Five centimes wages : The
cheapest soldiers of the world : Letters from the Legion : The
science of "decorating" : The industries of the legionnaires :
What the bugler did for a living : The man with the biscuits : A
thief in the night : Summary lynch law : Herr von Rader and la
Cantiniere : "The Legion works--the Legion gets no pay!" 105
CHAPTER VII
THE CITY OF THE FOREIGN LEGION
The daily exodus to town : Ben Mansur's coffee : The Ghetto :
The citizens of Sidi-bel-Abbes and the legionnaires : How the
Legion squared accounts with the civilians : A forbidden part of
the town : Primitive vice : A dance of a night : The gardens :
The last resting-place of the Legion's dead 117
CHAPTER VIII
A HUNDRED THOUSAND HEROES--A HUNDRED THOUSAND VICTIMS
The hall of honour : A collection of ruined talents : The battle
of Camaron : A skeleton outline of the Legion's history : A
hundred thousand victims : A psychological puzzle : True heroes
: How they are rewarded : The chances of promotion : The pension
system of the Foreign Legion 135
CHAPTER IX
"MARCH OR DIE!"
The Legion's war-cry : A night alarm : On the march : The
counting of the milestones : Under canvas : The brutality of the
marches : The legionnaire and the staff doctor : My fight for an
opiate : The "marching pig" : The psychology of the marches :
Excited nerves : The song of imprecations 155
CHAPTER X
THE MADNESS OF THE FOREIGN LEGION
An unpleasant occurrence : The last three coppers : The Roumanian
Jew from Berlin : Monsieur Viaisse : The Legion's atmosphere : The
Cafard demoniacs : Bismarck's double : Kruegerle's whim : The
madness of Legionnaire Bauer : Brutal humour : A tragedy 176
CHAPTER XI
THE DESERTERS
The Odyssey of going on pump : Death in the desert : The
Legion's deserters : A disastrous flight in a motor-car : The
tragic fate of an Austrian engineer : In the Ghetto of
Sidi-bel-Abbes : The business part of desertion : Oran and
Algiers : The Consulate as a trap : The financial side of
desertion : One hundred kilometres of suffering : Hamburg
steamers : Self-mutilation : Shamming : In the Suez Canal :
Morocco, the wonder-land 197
CHAPTER XII
A CHAPTER ON PUNISHMENTS
The return of the poumpistes : The scale of punishments in the
Legion : Of spiteful non-commissioned officers : The Legion's
axiom : Sad history of Little Jean : The punishment machine :
Lost years : A legionnaire's earnings in five years--francs,
127.75 : The prisons in the Foreign Legion : Pestilential
atmosphere : Human sardines : The general cells : Life in the
prison : On sentry duty among the prisoners 226
CHAPTER XIII
SOME TYPES OF VICE
A variety of human vices : The red wine of Algeria : Shum-Shum :
If there were no wine 248
CHAPTER XIV
MY ESCAPE
In the Arab prison : The letter : Days of suffering : Flight! :
The greedy "Credit Lyonnais" : Haggling in the Ghetto : The palm
grove as a dressing-room : On the railway track : Arab policemen
: Horrible minutes : Travelling to Oran : Small preparations :
On the steamer _St. Augustine_ : Marseilles : Ventimiglia : Free
255
CHAPTER XV
J'ACCUSE
Two years after : Shadows of the past : My vision : Public
opinion and the Foreign Legion : The political aspect of the
Foreign Legion : The moralist's point of view : The "Legion
question" in a nutshell : A question the civilised world should
have answered long ago : Quousque tandem...? 274
CHAPTER I
LEGIONNAIRE!
In Belfort : Sunrays and fear : Madame and the waiter : The French
lieutenant : The enlistment office of the Foreign Legion : Naked
humanity : A surgeon with a lost sense of smell : "Officier Allemand" :
My new comrades : The lieutenant-colonel : A night of tears
Another man, feeling as I felt, would have preferred a pistol-bullet as
a last resource. I went into the Foreign Legion....
It was evening when I arrived in the old fortress of Belfort, with the
intention of enlisting for the Legion. Something very like
self-derision made me spend the night in the best hotel.
Awakening was not pleasant. The sunrays played hide-and-seek upon the
lace of the cover, clambered to the ceiling, threw fantastic colours on
the white little faces of the stucco angels, climbed down again,
crowded together in a shining little heap, and gave the icy elegance of
the room a warm tone. Sleepily I stared at their play; sleepily I
blinked at the enormous bed with its splendid covering of lace, the
curious furniture, the wonderful Persian rug. Then I woke up with a
start and tried to think. A thousand thoughts, a thousand memories
crowded in upon me. Voices spoke to me; a woman's tears, the whispering
of love, a mothers sorrow. And some devil was perpetually drumming in
even measure: lost, lost, lost for ever....
For the second time in my life I felt the Great Fear. An indescribable
feeling, as if one had a great lump in one's throat, barring the air
from the lungs; as if one never could draw breath again. I had once
experienced this fear in the valley of Santiago de Cuba, when one of
the first Spanish shells from the blockhouse on San Juan Hill burst a
few feet from me. This time it was much worse.
Ah well, one must try to forget!
I dressed with ridiculous care, paid my bill in the "bureau," and
earned a lovely smile from madame for my gold piece. Ah, madame, you
would hardly flash your pretty eyes if you knew! The head waiter stood
expectant at the door, bending himself almost double in French fashion.
He | 2,298.763062 |
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THE CHAUTAUQUAN.
_A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE.
ORGAN OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE._
VOL. V. DECEMBER, 1884. No. 3.
Officers of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle.
_President_, Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio. _Superintendent of Instruction_,
Rev. J. H. Vincent, D.D., New Haven, Conn. _Counselors_, Rev. Lyman
Abbott, D.D.; Rev. J. M. Gibson, D.D.; Bishop H. W. Warren, D.D.;
Prof. W. C. Wilkinson, D.D. _Office Secretary_, Miss Kate F. Kimball,
Plainfield, N. J. _General Secretary_, Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa.
Contents
Transcriber’s Note: This table of contents of this periodical was created
for the HTML version to aid the reader.
REQUIRED READING FOR DECEMBER
What English Is 123
Sunday Readings
[_December 7_] 127
[_December 14_] 127
[_December 21_] 128
[_December 28_] 128
Glimpses of Ancient Greek Life
III.—Greek Private Life 129
Greek Mythology
Chapter III. 131
Temperance Teachings of Science; or, the Poison Problem
Chapter III.—Physiological Effects of the Poison Habit 134
Studies in Kitchen Science and Art
III.—Barley, Oats, Rice and Buckwheat 137
The Cereals 139
Home Studies in Chemistry and Physics
III.—Chemistry of Air 141
The Laureate Poets 144
The Spell of the Halcyon 146
Christmas Dangers and Christmas Hints 147
Do Animals Feign Death? 150
The War Department 151
Milton as the Poets’ Poet 154
Geography of the Heavens for December 155
The Liberal Upheaval in Norway 157
How to Help the C. L. S. C. 158
Outline of Required Readings 160
Programs for Local Circle Work 160
How to Organize a Local Circle 161
The Local Circle 162
Local Circles 163
The C. L. S. C. Classes 167
Questions and Answers 168
The Chautauqua University 170
Editor’s Outlook 171
Editor’s Note-Book 174
C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings for December 176
Notes on Required Readings in “The Chautauquan” 178
People’s Christmas Vesper and Praise Service 180
Talk About Books 181
Special Notes 182
REQUIRED READING FOR DECEMBER.
WHAT ENGLISH IS.
BY RICHARD GRANT WHITE.
In the course of our two foregoing articles we followed the advance of
the great Aryan or Indo-European race, to which we belong, from its
original seat in Central Asia, which it began to leave more than four
thousand years ago, until we found it in possession of India, Persia,
and all of Europe. We considered briefly and incidentally the fact
that within the last two hundred and fifty years this Asiatic race has
taken absolute possession of the greater part of the continent of North
America. We saw that speech was the bond and the token of the now vast
and vague, but once narrow and compact, unity of this powerful race,
which was brought into existence to conquer, to rule, and to humanize the
world. Of the numerous languages which have sprung from the Aryan stem,
English is the youngest. Compared in age with any other language of that
stock, we may almost say with any existing language of any stock, it is
like a new born babe in the presence of hoary eld. Only eight hundred
years ago it was unknown. True, its rudiments and much of its substance
then existed; but so it might be said that they existed in a certain
degree four thousand years ago, as we saw in our last article. Yet again,
more than four hundred years passed away before modern English was born.
It was not until about the beginning of the sixteenth century that the
language of Spenser, of Shakspere, of the Bible, of Bunyan, of Milton,
of Goldsmith, Burke, Irving, Hawthorne, and Thackeray, came fully into
existence as the recognized established speech of the English race.
Since that time the changes it has undergone have been trivial and
unimportant. Like the languages of all other highly civilized peoples,
it has received many additions, but its essential character has not
changed; its structure has been modified so slightly that the change is
perceptible only on the closest examination; its syntactical construction
has remained unshaken. The prose of Spenser and Shakspere and the
correspondence of the educated men of their day is as easily understood
by an unlettered English speaking man of our day as the prose of Sir
Arthur Helps or the more intelligible passages in the daily newspapers.
During that time, indeed, there have been changes of style in writing
English, which are more or less distinctive of periods. A reader of
moderate experience and discrimination can soon tell whether a page that
is put before him was written in the Elizabethan period, in that of the
Restoration (Charles II.), in that of Queen Anne, or that of Victoria.
But the differences by which his judgment would be guided are differences
of tone, of manner, of “the way of putting things,” of certain tricks of
expression, and are without any relations whatever to the “grammar,” or
to the essential character of language. The presence of words not in use
at one period, but which came into use at another, is an important means
of such a discrimination. But, in the first place, the introduction of
new words does not modify the essential character of a language; and in
the next we are not now considering a criticism which goes so far as to
examine the history of the English vocabulary.
This modern English, which is the youngest, is also the greatest language
ever spoken. A man may be supposed, not unreasonably, to be prejudiced
in favor of his mother tongue; but the judgment that declares in favor
of English against all other languages, even Greek, needs neither motive
nor support from prejudice. The two facts, that the English language is
the vehicle and the medium of a literature unequaled by that produced in
any other known tongue, and that it is becoming the common intermediary
and most widely diffused speech of the world, show that it possesses in
the highest degree the two essential elements of a great and complete
language—adaptation to man’s highest and to his homeliest needs in
expression. There is no other known language in which “King Lear,”
“Hamlet,” “Antony and Cleopatra,” the Falstaff scenes in “King Henry
the Fourth,” “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” “Paradise Lost,” the Roger de
Coverley papers of the “Spectator,” “The Elegy in a Country Churchyard,”
“The Vicar of Wakefield” and “She Stoops to Conquer,” “The School for
Scandal,” “Waverley,” “The Antiquary” and “The Fortunes of Nigel,”
“Childe Harold” and “Don Juan,” “The Pickwick Papers,” “Henry Esmond,”
“Adam Bede” and “Romola,” “In Memoriam” and “Sir Galahad,” “The Earthly
Paradise,” “Child Roland” and “The Scarlet Letter” could _all_ have been
written. No other language is at once grand enough and simple enough,
strong enough and flexible enough, lofty enough and homely enough to be
the natural, fitting and complete utterance of the literature of which
these are the typical productions, and to be, moreover, at the same time
perfectly adapted to the needs of the jurist, the politician, the man
of business, and the mariner. I remember that once on the St. Lawrence,
on the way to Quebec, as the steamer came to a landing, the French
officer on the “bridge” screamed an order to the engineer, “_Arretez
donc, Alphonse! arretez donc!_”[1] and that then I recollected that the
day before on the British steamer in which I left Montreal, the English
officer in just the same situation had quietly said, in his strong,
firm voice, “Hold hard!” and that I then thought not only how much more
effective those two syllables were as a phrase of nautical command, but
that they might be used by an English poet in a passage of grand and
strong emotion. English has no words which are too great or too little,
too fine or too homely to be used when need requires. English words
change their character and their expression according to their connection
and the manner in which they are uttered.
English owes its supremacy first, to the vigorous vitality of its germ
and the clean robustness of its stem; next, to the rich and infinitely
varied word-growth, which this trunk supports and nourishes. All
languages are more or less composite, but of all languages English is
most composite. It has been largely and richly grafted. It is, of all
languages, the most complex in substance, and the simplest in structure.
This simplicity of structure enables the uneducated man—Bunyan, for
example—to use it with correctness and force, while the vast variety of
its substance adapts it to all the needs of poet and philosopher. Let us
see how such a language came into existence, and what it is.
The people which spoke the English language when it assumed its modern
form, had made it. This may seem to be the sort of truth which is
triteness; but it is not so. The people which speaks a language generally
does make it; but not always, as we shall see. The people who made
the English language, and who made England, were of that part of the
great Aryan family which had taken possession of the northwestern part
of Europe—that which lies around the southern and western part of the
Baltic Sea. It is commonly said that the English are a very composite and
heterogeneous people. In a narrow sense this is true, but in a large and
really significant sense it is quite untrue. In his welcome to the Danish
princess Alexandra, when she arrived in England to become Princess of
Wales, the poet laureate prettily availed himself of the minor truth, to
sing
“Saxon and Dane and Norman are we,
But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee, Alexandra!”
The English race is, and for more than five hundred years has been
compounded of Saxons (Angles, Saxons and Jutes), Danes and Normans. But
these three peoples were of such close kindred that, in Launcelot Gobbo’s
phrase, they were “cater cousins.”[A] They were all Goths; the Danes and
the Normans were both Scandinavians; and the Saxons, the Angles, and
particularly the Jutes, although they were Low German tribes (the term
Low German meaning merely inhabitants of the lower parts of Germany near
the sea) were, because of their origin, and also of their neighborhood to
the others, so like them in blood and in speech that the difference was
rather superficial than essential.
These Jutes, Angles and Saxons, continuing the armed Aryan progress
westward, went to Britain in companies of hundreds and thousands,
and fighting their way from the shore inland at various points, and
continually reinforced from their hive on the continent, in the course of
about one hundred and fifty years they obtained complete possession of
the island, from the Tweed to the Channel, excepting only the mountainous
part at the west, now called Wales. They seem not to have mingled with
the conquered Britains, who it will be remembered were Celts, but to have
wholly displaced them, to have swept the land clean of them, except
in Wales, the Highlands of Scotland, and a small remnant in Cornwall,
the extreme southwestern point of the island. They carried with them
their Scandinavian-tinged Low German speech (called for convenience
Anglo-Saxon), which became the language of the country whose name their
presence and possession changed from Britain to Angle-land, Engel-land,
England. But when they had established themselves they were not left
undisturbed. The Danes poured in upon them at the north, and soon getting
foot-hold, they in their turn attempted the conquest of the whole island.
They succeeded so nearly that they not only obtained possession of the
northern part of the England of that day, but of the government; and
three Danish kings[B] ruled the land at London. They did not, however,
like the Anglo-Saxons, destroy their predecessors; partly from lack of
strength to accomplish such a destruction, and partly, it would seem,
from affinities of race and habits of life. Danes and Anglo-Saxons
mingled; although the former were chiefly confined to the northern part
of the country. One result of this conquest and intermingling was a
modification of the speech of the country, particularly at the north.
It received a strong Scandinavian infusion, the alterative influence of
which has been recognized more and more by philologists as they have
studied the structure and history of the English language. It should be
said here, and | 2,298.859724 |
2023-11-16 18:55:22.8397620 | 2,128 | 9 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
MY AIRSHIPS
[Illustration: ALBERTO SANTOS-DUMONT]
MY AIRSHIPS
The Story of My Life
BY
ALBERTO SANTOS-DUMONT
ILLUSTRATED
LONDON
GRANT RICHARDS
1904
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY FABLE 1
CHAPTER
I. THE COFFEE PLANTATION 10
II. PARIS--PROFESSIONAL BALLOONISTS--AUTOMOBILES 24
III. MY FIRST BALLOON ASCENT 33
IV. MY "BRAZIL"--SMALLEST OF SPHERICAL BALLOONS 42
V. THE REAL AND THE IMAGINARY DANGERS OF BALLOONING 51
VI. I YIELD TO THE STEERABLE BALLOON IDEA 63
VII. MY FIRST AIR-SHIP CRUISES (1898) 74
VIII. HOW IT FEELS TO NAVIGATE THE AIR 82
IX. EXPLOSIVE ENGINES AND INFLAMMABLE GASES 100
X. I GO IN FOR AIR-SHIP BUILDING 114
XI. THE EXPOSITION SUMMER 133
XII. THE DEUTSCH PRIZE AND ITS PROBLEMS 153
XIII. A FALL BEFORE A RISE 164
XIV. THE BUILDING OF MY "NO. 6" 180
XV. WINNING THE DEUTSCH PRIZE 190
XVI. A GLANCE BACKWARD AND FORWARD 205
XVII. MONACO AND THE MARITIME GUIDE ROPE 217
XVIII. FLIGHTS IN MEDITERRANEAN WINDS 232
XIX. SPEED 243
XX. AN ACCIDENT AND ITS LESSONS 256
XXI. THE FIRST OF THE WORLD'S AIR-SHIP STATIONS 264
XXII. MY "NO. 9," THE LITTLE RUNABOUT 282
XXIII. THE AIR-SHIP IN WAR 303
XXIV. PARIS AS A CENTRE OF AIR-SHIP EXPERIMENTS 318
CONCLUDING FABLE 327
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Alberto Santos-Dumont _Frontispiece_
Santos-Dumont Coffee Plantation--Railway 11
Santos-Dumont Coffee Plantation--The Works 15
Henriques Santos-Dumont 25
The "Brazil"--Smallest of Spherical Balloons 43
Motor of "No. 1" 62
The "Santos-Dumont No. 1"--First Start 75
"No. 4"--Free Diagonal Movement up 83
"No. 6"--Free Diagonal Movement down 86
"The Housetops look so Dangerous" 94
Over the Bois de Boulogne. "An Ocean of Greenery soft
and safe" 97
The Question of Physical Danger 101
"No. 9" catches Fire over the Ile de Puteaux 111
Accident to "No. 2," May 11, 1899 (First Phase) 115
Accident to "No. 2," May 11, 1899 (Second Phase) 119
Accident to "No. 2," May 11, 1899 (Third Phase) 123
Accident to "No. 2," May 11, 1899 (Finale) 127
Start of "No. 3," November 13, 1899 131
"No. 4" 135
Motor of "No. 4" 139
Visit of Professor Langley 143
"No. 4"--Flight before Professor Langley 147
"Santos-Dumont No. 5" 152
"No. 5" leaving Aero Club Grounds, July 12, 1901 158
"No. 5" returning from the Eiffel Tower 161
"No. 5"--Accident in the Park of M. Edmond de Rothschild 165
An Accident 170
Phase of an Accident 175
"No. 6"--First Trip 181
An Accident to "No. 6" 187
Scientific Commission of Aero Club at the Winning of the
Deutsch Prize 191
"No. 6" making for Eiffel Tower--Altitude 1000 feet 195
Round Eiffel Tower 199
Rounding Eiffel Tower 203
Returning to Aero Club Grounds above Aqueduct 207
Medal awarded by the Brazilian Government 211
"No. 9"--Showing Captain leaving Basket for Motor 215
In the Bay of Monaco 219
From the Balloon House of La Condamine at Monaco,
February 12, 1902 227
Wind A. Wind B 237
"Santos-Dumont No. 7" 249
"My present Aids understand my present Airships"--Motor
of "No. 6" 261
"Santos-Dumont No. 5"--Showing how Aero Club Grounds
were cut up 267
First of the World's Airship Stations (Neuilly St James) 271
"No. 7" 275
"No. 10"--without Passenger Keel 279
"Santos-Dumont No. 9" 283
"No. 9"--Showing relative Size 287
"No. 9"--Jumping my Wall 291
"No. 9"--Guide-roping on a Level with the Housetops 295
"No. 9"--M. Santos-Dumont lands at his own Door 299
"No. 9" over Bois de Boulogne 305
"No. 9" at Military Review, July 14, 1903 309
"No. 9" seen from Captive Balloon, June 11, 1903 325
MY AIRSHIPS
INTRODUCTORY FABLE
THE REASONING OF CHILDREN
Two young Brazilian boys strolled in the shade, conversing. They were
simple youths of the interior, knowing only the plenty of the primitive
plantation where, undisturbed by labour-saving devices, Nature yielded
man her fruits at the price of the sweat of his brow.
They were ignorant of machines to the extent that they had never seen a
waggon or a wheelbarrow. Horses and oxen bore the burdens of plantation
life on their backs, and placid Indian labourers wielded the spade and
the hoe.
Yet they were thoughtful boys. At this moment they discussed things
beyond all that they had seen or heard.
"Why not devise a better means of transport than the backs of horses and
of oxen?" Luis argued. "Last summer I hitched horses to a barn door,
loaded it with sacks of maize, and hauled in one load what ten horses
could not have brought on their backs. True, it required seven horses to
drag it, while five men had to sit around its edges and hold the load
from falling off."
"What would you have?" answered Pedro. "Nature demands compensations.
You cannot get something from nothing or more from less!"
"If we could put rollers under the drag, less pulling power would be
needed."
"Bah! the force saved would be used up in the labour of shifting the
rollers."
"The rollers might be attached to the drag at fixed points by means of
holes running through their centres," mused Luis. "Or why should not
circular blocks of wood be fixed at the four corners of the drag?...
Look, Pedro, yonder along the road. What is coming? The very thing I
imagined, only better! One horse is pulling it at a good trot!"
The first waggon to appear in that region of the interior stopped, and
its driver spoke with the boys.
"These round things?" he answered to their questions; "they are called
wheels."
Pedro accepted his explanation of the principle slowly.
"There must be some hidden defect in the device," he insisted. "Look
around us. Nowhere does Nature employ the device you call the wheel.
Observe the mechanism of the human body; observe the horse's frame;
observe...."
"Observe that horse and man and waggon with its wheels are speeding from
us," replied Luis, laughing. "Cannot you yield to accomplished facts?
You tire me with your appeals to Nature. Has man ever accomplished
anything worth having except by combating Nature? We do violence to her
when we chop down a tree! I would go further than this invention of the
waggon. Conceive a more powerful motive force than that horse...."
"Attach two horses to the waggon."
"I mean a machine," said Luis.
"A mechanical horse with powerful iron legs!" suggested Pedro.
"No; I would have a motor waggon. If I could find an artificial force
I | 2,298.859802 |
2023-11-16 18:55:22.8436020 | 436 | 15 |
Produced by Clare Graham & Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature
(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive.)
THE MONOMANIAC
(_LA BÊTE HUMAINE_)
By ÉMILE ZOLA
Translated and Edited, with a Preface
By EDWARD VIZETELLY
London
HUTCHINSON & CO
Paternoster Row. 1901
_All rights reserved._
[Illustration: "SÉVERINE UTTERED AN INVOLUNTARY CRY, AND ROUBAUD TURNED
ROUND, TERRIFIED." _p._ 196.]
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PREFACE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
PREFACE
This striking work, now published for the first time in England, but a
hundred thousand copies whereof have been sold in France, is one of the
most powerful novels that M. Émile Zola has written. It will be doubly
interesting to English readers, because for them it forms a missing
link in the famous Rougon-Macquart series.
The student of Zola literature will remember in the _Assommoir_ that
"handsome Lantier whose heartlessness was to cost Gervaise so many
tears." Jacques Lantier, the chief character in this _Bête Humaine_,
this _Human Animal_ which I have ventured to call the _Monomaniac_, is
one of their children. It is he who is the monomaniac. His monomania
consists in an irresistible prurience for murder, and his victims
must be women, just like that baneful criminal who was performing his
hideous exploits in the streets of the city of London in utter defiance
of the police, about the time M. Zola sat down to pen this remarkable
novel, and from whom, maybe, he partly took the idea.
Every woman | 2,298.863642 |
2023-11-16 18:55:22.8436710 | 3 | 19 |
Produ | 2,298.863711 |
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