TIMESTAMP
stringlengths 27
27
| ContextTokens
int64 3
7.44k
| GeneratedTokens
int64 6
1.9k
| text
stringlengths 9
41.5k
| time_delta
float64 0
3.44k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|
2023-11-16 19:09:32.0643440 | 734 | 11 |
Produced by Marcia Brooks, Cindy Beyer, Ross Cooling and
the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at
http://www.pgdpcanada.net with images provided by The
Internet Archives-Canada
[Illustration]
A Sketch
=.. of how..=
“The Diamond Anthem”
=was sung around the world=
=through the Colonies of the Empire=
=on the 20th June, 1897=
THE 60TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE ACCESSION DAY
OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA
Being an extract from the Annual Report of
The Supreme Grand President of the Sons of England,
given at St. Catharines, Canada, 8th March, 1898.
TORONTO
THE ROBINSON-ARBUTHNOT PRESS
1898
TIME TABLE FOR SERVICES AROUND THE WORLD.
An interval will be arranged in the regular afternoon service to
allow of the National Anthem being commenced at 4 p.m., or in
Australia and Canada at the exact Standard Time stated; this
being the equivalent of the moment the sun is passing the place
at 4 p.m. Sun Time.
─────────────────────────┬────────────┬──────────────────
DAY COMMENCES AT LONG. │ Standard │Time at the Heart
180. │ Time. │ of the
│ │ Empire—Windsor
│ │ Castle
─────────────────────────┼────────────┼──────────────────
│ P.M. │ A.M.
│ 20th. │ 20th.
FIJI ISLANDS │ 4.00 │ 4.05
│ │
NEW ZEALAND: │ │
Napier │ 4.00 │ 4.20
Auckland │ 4.00 │ 4.21
│ │
AUSTRALIA: │ │
Sydney │ 3.55 │ 5.55
Hobart │ 4.11 │ 6.11
Melbourne │ 4.20 │ 6.20
Adelaide │ 3.46 │ 6.46
Perth │ 4.16 │ 8.16
│ │
MAURITIUS: │ │ P.M.
St. Louis │ 4.00 │ 12.10
│ │
SOUTH AFRICA: │ │
Durban (Port Natal) │ " │ 1.56
Addington │ .... │ 1.57
East London │ " │ 2.08
King William’s Town │ " │ 2.11
Graham’s Town │ " │ 2.14
Port Elizabeth │ " │ 2.18
Uitenage │ " │ 2.19
Cape Town │ " │ 2.46
│ | 3,148.084384 |
2023-11-16 19:09:32.3590540 | 1,021 | 13 | BERKSHIRES***
E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 25811-h.htm or 25811-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/5/8/1/25811/25811-h/25811-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/5/8/1/25811/25811-h.zip)
THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS IN THE BERKSHIRES
Or
The Ghost of Lost Man's Trail
by
LAURA DENT CRANE
Author of The Automobile Girls at Newport, The Automobile
Girls Along the Hudson, Etc., Etc.
Illustrated
[Illustration: The Splash Descended on Unsuspecting Bab. _Frontispiece._]
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus Company
Copyright, 1910, by Howard E. Altemus
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Reunion 7
II. New Light on Old Papers 20
III. Happiness, and Another Scheme 28
IV. In the Heart of the Berkshires 45
V. A Day in the Woods 58
VI. "The Great White Also" 66
VII. Mollie Follows the Trail 76
VIII. End of the Search 90
IX. Spirit of the Forest 95
X. A Knock at the Door 107
XI. The <DW53> Hunt 120
XII. The Wounded Bird 128
XIII. The Wigwam 135
XIV. Give Way to Miss Sallie! 144
XV. Society in Lenox 152
XVI. At the Ambassador's 166
XVII. A Visit to Eunice 181
XVIII. Plans for the Society Circus 190
XIX. The Old Gray Goose 198
XX. Barbara and Beauty 206
XXI. Eunice and Mr. Winthrop Latham 215
XXII. The Automobile Wins 230
XXIII. The Recognition 240
XXIV. What to Do with Eunice 251
The Automobile Girls in the
Berkshires
CHAPTER I
THE REUNION
"Mollie Thurston, we are lost!" cried Barbara dramatically.
The two sisters were in the depth of a New Jersey woods one afternoon in
early September.
"Well, what if we are!" laughed Mollie, leaning over to add a cluster of
wild asters to her great bunch of golden rod. "We have two hours ahead of
us. Surely such clever woodsmen as we are can find our way out of woods
which are but a few miles from home. Suppose we should explore a real
forest some day. Wouldn't it be too heavenly! Come on, lazy Barbara! We
shall reach a clearing in a few moments."
"You lack sympathy, Miss Mollie Thurston; that's your trouble."
Barbara was laughing, yet she anxiously scanned the marshy ground as she
picked her way along.
"I wouldn't mind being lost in these woods a bit more than you do, if I
were not so horribly afraid of snakes. Oh, my! this place looks full of
'em."
"They are not poisonous, Bab, or I might be more sympathetic," said
Mollie reassuringly. "The snakes in these woods are harmless. How can a
girl as brave as you are be such a goose about a poor, wriggly little
'sarpint,' that couldn't harm you if it tried."
"O-o-o!" shivered Bab. "One's own pet fear has nothing to do with sense
or nonsense. Kindly remember your own feelings toward the timid mouse!
Just the same, I should like to play 'Maid Marian' for a while and dwell
in the heart of a woodland glen. If ever I have a chance to go on a
camping trip, I shall get rid of my fear of snakes, somehow."
"Bab," said Mollie, after a moment's pause, "hasn't it been dreadfully
dull since Ruth and her father went away? Do you think they will ever
come back? I can hardly believe it has been only three weeks since they
left Kingsbridge, and only six weeks since we came back from Newport.
Anyhow | 3,148.379094 |
2023-11-16 19:09:32.4593350 | 7,436 | 20 |
Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
In the caption to the illustration facing page 370, KOLENGSOO
should possibly be KULANGSU.
THE ENGLISHMAN IN CHINA
CHAP. XXIII.: Tsze-kung asked, saying, "Is there one word which may
serve as a rule of practice for all one's life?" The Master said, "Is
not RECIPROCITY such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do
not do to others."
[Illustration: Mr Alcock, at the age of 34.
from a drawing by L. A. de Fabeck, 1843.
Walker & Cockerell ph. sc.]
THE ENGLISHMAN IN CHINA
DURING THE VICTORIAN ERA
AS ILLUSTRATED IN
THE CAREER OF
SIR RUTHERFORD ALCOCK, K.C.B., D.C.L.
MANY YEARS CONSUL AND MINISTER IN
CHINA AND JAPAN
BY
ALEXANDER MICHIE
AUTHOR OF
'THE SIBERIAN OVERLAND ROUTE,' 'MISSIONARIES
IN CHINA,' ETC.
VOL. I.
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCC
_All Rights reserved_
PREFACE.
Reminiscences of the Far East called up by the death of Sir Rutherford
Alcock in November 1897 prompted the writer to send a contribution on
the subject to 'Blackwood's Magazine.' Being appreciated by the
family, the article suggested to them some more substantial memorial
of the deceased statesman, a scheme with which the writer fell in the
more readily that it seemed to harmonise with the task which friends
had been already urging upon him--that of writing some account of
occurrences in the Far East during his own residence there. For there
was no other name round which these events could be so consistently
grouped during the thirty years when British policy was a power in
that part of the world. As Consul and Minister Alcock was so
interwoven with the history of the period that neither the life of the
man nor the times in which he lived could be treated apart. And the
personal element renders his connection with Far Eastern affairs
particularly instructive, for, combining the highest executive
qualities with a philosophic grasp of the problems with which he had
to deal, he at the same time possessed the faculty of exposition,
whereby the vital relation between the theoretical and the practical
sides of Far Eastern politics was made plain. The student may thus
draw his lessons equally from the actions and the reflections of this
great official.
The life history of Sir Rutherford Alcock is that of the progressive
development of a sterling character making in all circumstances the
most of itself, self-reliant, self-supporting, without friends or
fortune, without interest or advantage of any kind whatsoever. From
first to last the record is clear, without sediment or anything
requiring to be veiled or extenuated. Every achievement, great or
small, is stamped with the hall-mark of duty, of unfaltering devotion
to the service of the nation and to the interests of humanity.
A copious and facile writer, he has left singularly little in the way
of personal history. The only journal he seems ever to have kept was
consigned by him to oblivion, a few early dates and remarks having
alone been rescued. When in recent years he was approached by friends
on the subject of auto-biography, he was wont to reply, "My life is in
my work; by that I am content to be remembered." We must needs
therefore take him at his word and judge by the fruit what was the
nature of the tree.
In the following work the reader may trace in more or less continuous
outline the stages by which the present relation between China and
foreign nations has been reached. In the earlier portion the course of
events indicated is comparatively simple, being confined to
Anglo-Chinese developing into Anglo-Franco-Chinese relations. In the
latter portion, corresponding roughly with the second volume, the
stream becomes subdivided into many collateral branches, as all the
Western nations and Japan, with their separate interests, came to
claim their share, each in its own way, of the intercourse with China.
It is hoped that the data submitted to the reader will enable him to
draw such conclusions as to past transactions as may furnish a basis
for estimating future probabilities.
The scope of the work being restricted to the points of contact
between China and the rest of the world, nothing recondite is
attempted, still less is any enigma solved. It is the belief of the
author that the so-called Chinese mystery has been a source of
needless mystification; that the relation between China and the outer
world was intrinsically simple; and that to have worked from the basis
of their resemblances to the rest of humanity would have been a
shorter way to an amicable understanding with the Chinese than the
crude attempt to accommodate Western procedure to the uncomprehended
differences which divided them. It needed no mastery of their
sociology to keep the Chinese strictly to their written engagements
and to deter them from outrage. But discussion was the invitation to
laxity; and laxity, condoned and pampered, then defiant and
triumphant, lies at the root of the disasters which have befallen the
Chinese Empire itself, and now threaten to recoil also upon the
foreign nations which are responsible for them. This responsibility
was never more tersely summed up than by Mr Burlingame in his capacity
of Chinese Envoy. After sounding the Foreign Office that astute
diplomatist was able to inform the Tsungli-Yamen in 1869 that "the
British Government was so friendly and pacific that they would endure
anything." The dictum, though true, was fatal, and the operation of it
during thirty subsequent years explains most that has happened during
that period, at least in the relations between China and Great
Britain.
A word as to the orthography may be useful to the reader. The
impossibility of transliterating Chinese sounds into any alphabetical
language causes great confusion in the spelling of names. A uniform
system would indeed be most desirable, but common practice has already
fixed so many of them that it seems better, in a book intended for
general reading, not to depart too much from the conventional usage,
or attempt to follow any scientific system, which must, after all, be
based upon mispronunciation of the Chinese sounds.
As regards personal names, it may be convenient to call attention to
the distinction between Chinese and Manchu forms. In the case of the
former the custom is to write the _nomen_, or family name, separately,
and the _pre-nomen_ (which by Chinese practice becomes the
_post-nomen_) by itself, and, when it consists of two characters,
separated by a hyphen--_e.g._, Li (_nomen_) Hung-chang (_post-nomen_).
In the case of Manchus, who are known not by a family name, but by
what may be termed, for want of a better expression, their
_pre-nomen_, it is customary to write the name in one word, without
hyphens--for example, Kiying, Ilipu. As the Chinese name usually
consists of three characters or syllables, and the Manchu usually of
two, the form of name affords a _prima facie_ indication of the
extraction of the personage referred to. Polysyllabic names, as
San-ko-lin-sin, are generally Mongol.
The sovereign is not referred to by name, the terms Kwanghsu,
Tungchih, and so forth, being the Chinese characters chosen to
designate, or, as we might say, idealise the reign, in the same way as
impersonal titles are selected for houses of business.
I desire to express my deep obligation to Sir Rutherford Alcock's
stepdaughter Amy, Lady Pelly, without whose efficient aid the book
could not have been compiled. It is a subject of regret to all
concerned that Lady Alcock herself did not live to see the completion
of a task in the inception of which she took a keen and loving
interest.
To the other friends who have in different ways helped in the
production of the book, and particularly to Mr William Keswick, M.P.,
for the loan of his valuable Chinnery and Crealock drawings, my best
thanks are due.
A. M.
LONDON, _November 2nd, 1900_.
_Postscript._--The legend on the front cover is a
paraphrase of Chapter xxiii., Book xv., of the Analects of
Confucius, Dr Legge's translation of which has been adopted
by me as the motto of these volumes.
CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE ARMY SURGEON--
I. YOUTH 1
II. THE PENINSULA, 1832-1837 8
III. ENGLAND, 1838-1844 23
II. SENT TO CHINA 29
FOREIGN RELATIONS WITH CHINA 31
III. ANTECEDENTS OF THE WAR--
I. THE OPIUM TRADE 42
II. THE SEQUEL TO THE SURRENDER OF OPIUM 55
IV. THE FIRST CHINA WAR, 1839-1842 60
V. THE TREATY OF 1842 78
VI. THE FRUITS OF THE WAR AND PROSPECTS OF PEACE 86
VII. THE NEW INTERCOURSE: CANTON, 1842-1847 93
VIII. THE NEW TREATY PORTS--FOOCHOW, AMOY, NINGPO 112
IX. SHANGHAI 124
I. THE TSINGPU AFFAIR 129
II. REBELLION 135
III. THE CHINESE MARITIME CUSTOMS 143
IV. CREATION OF THE FOREIGN CUSTOMS 149
V. MR ALCOCK'S DEPARTURE FROM SHANGHAI 156
X. CONSUL ALCOCK'S VIEWS ON GENERAL POLICY 161
XI. TRADE UNDER THE TREATY OF NANKING 167
I. TEA 178
II. SILK 187
III. OPIUM 191
IV. CHINESE EXPORTS 200
V. BRITISH EXPORTS 203
VI. NATIVE TRADE 207
XII. SHIPPING 211
XIII. THE TRADERS--
I. FOREIGN 248
II. CHINESE 263
XIV. HONGKONG 271
XV. MACAO 287
XVI. PIRACY 299
XVII. THE ARROW WAR 308
I. THE EARL OF ELGIN AND HIS MISSION 320
II. LORD ELGIN'S SECOND MISSION 349
XVIII. INTERCOURSE UNDER THE TREATIES OF 1858 AND 1860--
I. THE DIPLOMATIC OVERTURE 361
II. NEW PORTS AND OPENING OF YANGTZE 369
III. ADMIRAL HOPE'S POLICY TOWARDS INSURGENTS 375
IV. THE LAY-OSBORN FLOTILLA 387
V. THE END OF THE REBELLION 392
VI. EVACUATION OF CANTON 396
VII. DEATH OF THE EMPEROR 397
VIII. INFLUENCE OF THESE EVENTS ON PROGRESS OF
DIPLOMACY 398
APPENDIX.
I. NOTE ON OUR PRESENT POSITION AND THE STATE OF OUR
RELATIONS WITH CHINA, BY CONSUL ALCOCK, JANUARY
19, 1849 411
II. CONFIDENTIAL DESPATCH BY CONSUL ALCOCK TO SIR GEORGE
BONHAM, JANUARY 13, 1852 428
III. CONFIDENTIAL DESPATCH TO SIR GEORGE BONHAM, DATED JUNE
17, 1852. (EXTRACT) 432
IV. ACCOUNT OF THE SALT TRADE ANNEXED TO MR PARKES' SUMMARY
OF THE NATIVE MARITIME TRADE OF FOOCHOW,
1846. (EXTRACTS) 439
ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE FIRST VOLUME.
PAGE
MR RUTHERFORD ALCOCK AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-FOUR. _Frontispiece_
From a drawing by L. A. de Fabeck.
MACAO 48
H.M. SHIPS IMOGEN AND ANDROMACHE PASSING BOCCA TIGRIS
BATTERIES 70
THE LAKES, NINGPO 114
THE FIRST CONSULAR RESIDENCE AT FOOCHOW 116
BRIDGE OVER RIVER MIN 120
THE SECOND CONSULAR RESIDENCE AT FOOCHOW, 1848 122
BAMBOO BRIDGE AT FOOCHOW 124
COUNTRY WATERWAY NEAR SHANGHAI 126
ENTRANCE TO SZE-KING, NEAR SHANGHAI 136
RUSTIC SCENE NEAR SHANGHAI 156
VILLAGE ON THE CANALS 200
DENT'S VERANDAH, MACAO 294
GEORGE CHINNERY 298
From an oil-painting by himself.
SIR FREDERICK BRUCE 348
MR LOCH DEPARTS FROM PEKING FOR ENGLAND WITH CHINESE
TREATY 354
MONSEIGNEUR MOUILLI 356
FIRST BRITISH CONSULATE AT KOLENGSOO, 1844 370
MAPS.
MAP OF CANTON WATERS 62
YANGTZE AND GRAND CANAL 75
MOUTH OF YANGTZE AND CHUSAN ARCHIPELAGO 132
ROADS AND WATERWAYS BETWEEN PEKING AND TIENTSIN 331
THE ENGLISHMAN IN CHINA.
CHAPTER I.
THE ARMY SURGEON.
I. YOUTH.
Birth at Ealing -- Motherless childhood -- Feeble health --
Irregular schooling -- Medical education -- Student days in
Paris -- Wax-modelling -- Admission to College of Surgeons
-- House Surgeon at Westminster Hospital.
Born in the same year as Mr Gladstone, May 1809, John Rutherford
Alcock[1] predeceased that statesman by only six months. His
birthplace was Ealing, and he died in Westminster, after a residence
there in retirement of twenty-seven years. Being a delicate infant, he
was baptised in Ealing church when one day old. His childhood was
deprived of its sunshine by the loss of his mother, and it does not
appear that his father, a medical man of some note, and an artist to
boot, was equal to filling the void in the young life. Consequently
boyhood had for him none of the halo of a golden age, but was, on the
contrary, a grey and cheerless memory, furnishing tests of hardihood
rather than those glowing aspirations which generally kindle young
ambitions.
His early life was passed with relatives in the north of England, and
he went to school at Hexham, where he had for companions Sir John
Swinburne and Mr Dawson Lambton.
Of his school-days there is little to remark. Indeed his early
education seems to have been most irregular, having been subject to
long and frequent interruptions on account of ill-health, which
necessitated sea-voyages and other changes of air. Nevertheless the
diligence which was part of his nature compensated for these drawbacks
of his youth, and set its seal on his whole after-career.
On returning to his father's house at the age of fifteen, the boy began
his medical education, being, according to the fashion of the day,
apprenticed to his father, and at the same time entered as a student
at the Westminster Hospital and the Royal Westminster Ophthalmic
Hospital under that distinguished surgeon, G. J. Guthrie. His passion
for art had already asserted itself, and he was enabled to indulge it
by constant visits to Chantrey's studio, where, "amid the musical
sounds of the chisel on the marble, with snatches of airs from the
workmen, where all breathed a calm and happy repose, he passed
delightful hours." His half-holidays were spent at Chantrey's in
modelling.
In the following year he visited Paris, and seems ever after to have
looked back on the gay city as a kind of paradise, for there the world
first really opened to the young man of sixteen. Then began that life
of work and enjoyment, so blended as to be inseparable, which
continued without intermission for more than seventy years. In the
stimulating atmosphere of Paris, and its free and independent life,
the boy's faculties rapidly developed. He seemed, indeed, to expand
suddenly into full manhood. Destined for the medical profession, he
worked hard at anatomy, chemistry, and natural history, while taking
also a keen interest in artistic and literary subjects; mastered
French and Italian; and, in short, turned his twelve or eighteen
months' sojourn to highly practical account.
From a small pocket-book containing notes of the journey to France,
and part of his work in Paris, we give some extracts illustrative of
the boy's character and powers of observation.
It was on the 17th of August 1825 that the party embarked at the
Custom-House Stairs for Calais, the voyage occupying fourteen hours.
On landing the lad "amused himself by observing the effects in the sky
and the sea, and by picking up shells, bones of birds and animals,
which having remained in the sea until perfectly clean, looked
beautiful and white as ivory." Simple things interested him, and after
dinner at the Hotel Meurice in Paris he "listened with much pleasure
to a man playing airs on what he called an American flute"--which he
goes on to describe: "The tones were mellow in the extreme, and the
airs he played I think were much superior in sweetness to any I have
ever heard from an instrument so clear," and so on. Obviously a
subjective impression; it is his own emancipation that beautifies the
simplest things and inspires the simplest sounds. Like the
convalescent in Gray--
"The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise."
On his first Sunday in Paris he was "much struck with the beauty of
the paintings and a great number of pieces sculptured in
_bas-relief_." Then he walked in the gardens of the Tuileries, "which
in extent, in statues and in fountains, in the appearance of it taking
it altogether, far exceeded anything my imagination had conceived
concerning it."
At Versailles he was "highly delighted with many of the paintings. The
gardens are extremely extensive and the fountains very numerous;...
but it is all extremely artificial, and therefore soon fatigues the
eye." In these slight observations are perceptible the artistic
instinct and sense of fitness, faculties which served him so admirably
in his future work, and might have won him distinction in other fields
than those in which his lot was ultimately cast.
He was in Paris for a serious purpose, the study of medicine and
surgery, and seriously he followed it. At the same time he mixed
freely in the artistic and literary society of the French capital, and
left none of his talents uncultivated. A characteristic incident in
his educational career was his mastering the art of modelling in wax
and in plaster. Following up his experiments in Chantrey's studio, he
took regular lessons in Paris, and attained such proficiency that,
young as he was, he was able to maintain himself while in that city by
the sale of his anatomical models. For one of these he mentions
receiving fifty guineas, and a few years after "for two arms and two
legs the size of life" he notes receiving 140 guineas. These also won
for him distinctions at home, for in the year 1825 he was awarded the
"Gold Isis Medal" of the Society of Arts, and in the following year
the "large gold medal" of that society, for original models in
wax. And it may be mentioned as characteristic that although
in later years an active member of that society, Sir H. T. Wood, the
secretary, who knew him well, was unaware of Sir Rutherford Alcock's
having so early in life received the society's medals. "The fact is an
interesting one," he says, "and I am glad to have had my attention
drawn to it." Some of these works were preserved in the Museum of the
College of Surgeons, while others, prepared in special wax, were
bought by Government for the use of the Indian medical schools.
From the small pocket-book to which we have already referred, and
which contains concise notes of his course of instruction in modelling
under a M. Dupont, we extract the note of his first lesson. It shows
thoroughness of mind, keenness of observation, and the instinct for
accuracy which enabled him so soon to attain to excellence in the art,
and led to success in all the other pursuits of his life:--
_Sept. 1._--To-day my first lesson in modelling began. I
saw M. Dupont work upon a mask of a little boy's face in
wax. He opened the eyes, but did not in my opinion make
them quite correct. The only thing I observed in particular
was his using oil very freely with his tool. I afterwards
saw three moulds of a thigh near the hip after amputation,
cast in wax. One was soaked in water, another was rubbed
with soft-soap, and a third was well oiled. The one that
was oiled produced the most perfect cast, but I should have
thought both water, soap, and oil were used much too
freely. They were all cast in wax of a deep red colour, and
one of them was placed in the stump of one of the thighs of
the model on which M. Dupont was engaged. It was not quite
large enough for the thigh in some places, and too large in
others. This he altered without scruple, so that when the
stump was finished, though it looked extremely natural, it
was by no means accurate.
Before quitting the life in Paris the following sample of its popular
amusements as they presented themselves to the young student may be
interesting to readers, and it is unfortunately the last entry in the
pocket-book, and almost the last assistance we shall get from journals
during the seventy years of crowded life which followed:--
I went yesterday [Sunday, September 10, 1826] to the Swiss
Mountain, very extensive gardens on the Boulevards, where
the most respectable part of the pleasure-seeking Parisians
assemble on Sunday: you pay ten sous admittance. Here there
is a large establishment for dinners where you may dine as
at the restaurateurs, in a public room, or there are a long
suite of apartments for parties of four, six, or twelve
each, looking out into the gardens, and immediately before
the windows was the space enclosed by trees, which form a
canopy over it, and which is allotted to dancing. On one
side is the orchestra; and when I heard it there was a very
excellent band of musicians in it. It was rather
unfavourable weather, as there were in the course of the
day several very heavy showers, yet there seemed to be a
very great number of elegantly dressed females and
respectable-looking men; and some even highly-dressed,
which is a wonder, I think, for the gentlemen in Paris seem
to dress as much inferior to us as the French ladies dress
better than the English. Indeed it is quite delightful to
see the great taste with which they dress and the elegance
of contour in all their figures. I don't know how it
happens, but I never recollect seeing a French woman that
was at all above the lowest class of society that was a
slovenly or slattern figure, and very few that were not
really elegant, though their faces are, generally speaking,
plain.
After having dined I went to see the Swiss Mountain, which
had made a noise whilst I was at dinner that very much
resembled distant thunder. I had no idea what it was; my
surprise may therefore be conceived when, on coming
suddenly in sight of it, I saw a man, apparently sitting on
a chair, whirl past me with a velocity more resembling the
speed of lightning than anything I had before seen,--so
much so, that though from the top to the bottom where they
drop might be about 200 feet, I had merely time to
perceive that there was a man seated on some sort of
vehicle like a chair.
The mountain consisted of boards raised at an angle of
about from 60 deg. to 70 deg. with the ground, and gradually
becoming level. The distance from where they set off to
where they stop I have before stated, I think, to be about
200 feet.
This platform is sufficiently broad to allow three of the
vehicles to go down and one to return up at the same
time--that is to say, there are four iron grooves
accurately fitted to the small wheels on which the vehicles
move. There are horses as well as chairs for both ladies
and gentlemen. I saw several gentlemen on horseback and one
lady. The horses appear to me to be real horses' hides,
perhaps covering a wooden horse. They are accoutred with
saddle, stirrups, and bridle. One person who came down on
one of these horses rose and fell in his stirrups as though
riding a real horse; it created much laughter, and the
people surrounding immediately called out "Un Anglais! un
Anglais!" I believe he was an Englishman. It had a
ridiculous effect to observe the anxiety depicted on the
countenances of the heroes, and compare them, with the
knowledge of their perfect safety, with the laughing groups
that surrounded them. Sometimes a veteran hero would mount
one of the horses and come down with triumph in his
countenance; the effect then became still more ridiculous,
for he seemed like a great baby mounted on a hobby-horse
proportionately large. But so it is through life, I think;
one sees people capable of being elated as much by actions
little in themselves, but enlarged for the instant by
circumstances, as, for instance, in this case--the rapidity
of motion, the gay crowd, and the distant music--as they
would have been by an action really great in itself but
unembroidered by outward show.
Hearing the music and wishing to see the dancing I had
heard so much of, I approached the dancers. We read that
the French enjoy dancing with great zest; certes, to see
them dance a quadrille, one would not say so: 'tis true it
is a dance in which custom has forbidden much exertion,
still the entire listlessness they show induced me to think
it was a task rather than a pleasure. But when a lively
waltz struck up and the waltzing began, I....
Here the notes break off.
Of the student's life of four years from 1828 to 1832 there is little
which can or need be said. For two years and a half out of the four he
was house surgeon at the Westminster Hospital and the Ophthalmic
Hospital, having received, at the age of twenty-one, the diploma from
the Royal College to practise surgery. During this period he continued
modelling, and took pupils in that art. Writing for periodicals also
occupied some of his leisure time.
No sooner was his student career ended than an opening presented
itself which determined the future course of his life, but in a way
very different from what could possibly have been anticipated.
II. THE PENINSULA, 1832-1837.
Dynastic quarrel in Portugal -- Foreign legion -- Mr Alcock
enters the service, 1832 -- Character of the force and its
leaders -- Colonel Shaw -- Incidents of the campaign --
Important medical services of Mr Alcock -- Joins the
Spanish Foreign Legion, 1836 -- Termination of the
campaign.
There were troubles in Portugal. The usurper Dom Miguel was on the
throne. It was proposed to seat the rightful sovereign, Donna Maria,
there--her father, Dom Pedro, ex-Emperor of Brazil, who assumed the
title of Duke of Braganza, heading the movement.
Sympathy was excited in France and England, in both of which countries
irregular forces were levied to co-operate with the constitutional
party in Portugal led by his imperial majesty. It was a kind of
service which tempted alike young bloods and old soldiers who had been
languishing in peace and idleness since 1815, and a small army of
"Liberators" was got together in England, with a corresponding naval
force.
It has been mentioned that young Alcock had studied under the eminent
army surgeon Guthrie. Feelings of regard had sprung up between the two
which extended far beyond the professional sphere. Not only had the
boy been a favourite pupil whose aptitude reflected credit on his
teacher, but it is quite evident that a personal affection which
lasted their respective lifetimes was rekindled during the years they
subsequently spent together in Westminster. When, therefore, Mr
Guthrie was applied to by Mr O'Meara, who had been in attendance on
Napoleon at St Helena, to recommend a surgeon for the British-Portuguese
force, Guthrie sent at once for Alcock and discussed with him his
professional prospects. The upshot was that as, considering his
youth,--he was then only twenty-two,--it was useless for him to think
of beginning practice in London, a few years might be most
advantageously passed in military service abroad. The young man was
only too eager to close with the offer then made to him, which not
only afforded the prospect of active professional work, but seemed to
open the way for adventures such as the soul of a young man loveth.
Within twenty-four hours of accepting the offer Alcock was on the way
to Portsmouth and the Azores. For some time after his arrival there he
did duty on board ship. His ambition being cramped by this restricted
service, however, he was anxious to be transferred to the military
force. He accordingly applied to Colonel Hodges, who commanded the
marine battalion, to be taken on his staff. The colonel looked at him
with some hesitation owing to his extremely youthful appearance, but
on hearing that he had been specially recommended by Guthrie, said,
"Oh, that is a different matter; come along."
Of the Peninsular expeditions of 1832-37 the interest for the present
generation lies less in their origin, aims, and results, than in their
conduct and incidents. They were episodes which have left no marks on
the general course of history visible to the ordinary observer, and
are memorable chiefly for their dramatic effects, the play of
character, the exhibitions of personal courage, capacity, and
devotion; of jealousy, intrigue, and incapacity; of love and hate; and
of the lights and shadows that flit across the theatre of human life.
Interferences in other people's quarrels naturally bring to the
surface all the incongruities. The auxiliaries are sure to be thought
arrogant whether they are really so or not, and the _proteges_ are no
less certain to be deemed ungrateful. Each party is apt to
underestimate the exploits of the other and to exaggerate his own.
They take widely different views of the conditions under which their
respective services are rendered; they misconstrue each other's
motives, assessing them at their lowest apparent value. Each side
looks for certain sentimental acknowledgments from the other, while
daily frictions and inevitable misunderstandings continually embitter
the disappointment felt at their absence. And there are not two
parties, but many. There are wheels within wheels; sections playing on
each other tricks which savour of treachery on the one side, while on
the other side there may be sulks which are constructive mutiny. The
question of pay is naturally a constant source of bitterness, for
countries that need foreign assistance are impecunious and | 3,148.479375 |
2023-11-16 19:09:40.3423640 | 2,922 | 20 |
Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, MFR and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Outpost in the Wilderness:
Fort Wayne,
1706-1828
by
Charles Poinsatte
Allen County, Fort Wayne
Historical Society
1976
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
The French and British Period Page 1
CHAPTER II
The Establishment of Fort Wayne—Government Outpost of Defense,
Diplomacy, and Trade Page 27
CHAPTER III
The Impending Conflict Page 50
CHAPTER IV
The Siege of Fort Wayne Page 63
CHAPTER V
Evacuation of the Fort and the Increased Indian Trade Page 79
CHAPTER VI
Platting of Fort Wayne and the First Local Government Page 94
CHAPTER VII
The Treaty of 1826 and the Removal of the Indian Agency Page 99
APPENDIX
Bibliography Page 106
Index Page 111
FOREWORD
There was a time when the writer of local history and the academic
professional were two different people; indeed, one is almost tempted to
say, they were two different species. Fortunately for both, this is no
longer true. Many academic historians now recognize local units as the
fundamental units of historical study, presenting hard data in
manageable quantities for precise conclusions. Charles R. Poinsatte was
among the first to recognize this and merge the academic and local
traditions of historical writing, the one supplying rigor and judgments
based on cosmopolitan learning, and the other supplying the vividness
and appeal of the familiar and relevant.
On the academic side, Charles R. Poinsatte got his undergraduate and
graduate education at the University of Notre Dame in South Bend. Thomas
T. McAvoy schooled him to precision in judgment and exhaustiveness in
research. Poinsatte also had the good fortune to study under Aaron I.
Abell, a student of Arthur Schlesinger, Senior, whose 1933 book, _The
Rise of the City, 1878-1898_, initiated a new kind of American history.
Professor Abell first got Poinsatte interested in what is now called
urban history. In fact, however, Poinsatte’s career embodies still
another great tradition in American historiography, that of frontier
history as inspired by Frederick Jackson Turner. _Frontier Outpost_
describes the _site_ of an urban area to be, but it is not truly urban
history, as Dr. Poinsatte’s book, _Fort Wayne during the Canal Era,
1828-1855_ (Indiana Historical Bureau, 1969), was. Thus Dr. Poinsatte
writes in this book of Fort Wayne as an aspect principally of the
history of the Old Northwest.
Higher education at Notre Dame, acquaintance with a student of the elder
Schlesinger, and thoughts spurred by the Turner thesis are only part of
the story, of course. The area Dr. Poinsatte decided to study was Fort
Wayne and not Detroit or Chicago or Cincinnati. Here what Nathaniel
Hawthorne called “a sort of home-feeling with the past” worked its
magic. Born in Fort Wayne in 1925, Charles Poinsatte was stirred by the
names he heard as a boy, Little Turtle, Anthony Wayne, and George Rogers
Clarke. Some family property was part of the old Richardville estate,
and in his youth he explored an old Indian burial ground there. He has
never gotten over his fascination with those men, and now he examines
them with his academic tools.
Dr. Poinsatte has always been able to reconcile seemingly conflicting
movements in American historical writing. Urban history and frontier
history, he argues, are in many ways complementary, for frontier
historians can explain to urban historians why the entities they study
are located where they are and how they got their start. Likewise, local
history and history as most often written by academic professionals
benefit from cross-fertilization. Local history always needs to be
written from a broad perspective which keeps the local historian from
claiming unique status for developments which took place in many other
localities at the same time. Likewise, in-depth studies of certain
localities provide tests for the larger generalizations of academic
historians, generalizations that are too often based on unrepresentative
samplings of evidence from national elites and large cultural and
political centers like New York and Washington.
Still, one suspects it is the excitement of particular locality’s
history which accounts for Dr. Poinsatte’s work. It has already taken
him to England and France in search of the records and documents which
explain the early history of Fort Wayne. He intends to return to Europe
next year to explore still another aspect of history suggested by Fort
Wayne’s story, the lives of French military officers who fought in the
American Revolution. After that, he might consider a history of Fort
Wayne in the railroad era, from 1855 (where Dr. Poinsatte’s work on the
canal era ended) to the Progressive Era. Whatever the course of
Professor Poinsatte’s future studies, Fort Wayne’s citizens will look
forward to reading the results. He has already enriched our
understanding of ourselves beyond measure.
September 4, 1975
Fort Wayne, Indiana
Mark E. Neely, Jr.
Preface
Early Fort Wayne played an important and definite role in the history of
the old Northwest. Its unique position as a portage site between the
Wabash and Maumee rivers made the Wabash route one of the natural
waterways from the Great Lakes to the Mississippi river and brought
Indians and fur traders to this spot at an early date. It is most likely
the oldest continuous site settled by white men in Indiana. During the
French, British, and American occupation of the region, forts were built
here as outposts of defense in the Indian country. Its strategic
importance was recognized in all the plans for military campaigns in the
area between the Great Lakes and the Ohio river for almost a century.
Here was located at a later date an important government Indian agency,
and to the town on certain days of the year flocked hundreds of Indian
traders. Fort Wayne was also situated in the heart of the rich
Maumee-Wabash fur producing region.
While giving a comprehensive background of the French and British
occupation of the site of Fort Wayne, I have stressed its importance in
the early days of American settlement. The gradual decline of the fur
trade, followed by the removal of the Indian agency in 1828 and the
opening of the area to white settlement by the Indian treaties of that
decade, all combined to usher in a new era in the history of Fort Wayne.
By the 1830’s the people of Fort Wayne were feverishly making plans for
the Wabash and Erie canal. This opened a new period in Fort Wayne’s
history which has been studied in my previous work.[1] Since then the
development of the city has been consistent and substantial.
From the modern growing city it is a far cry back to the time of the
Miami Indians and the old fort in the wilderness with its little
garrison of men puzzled at times, no doubt, to understand their choice
of a life of loneliness in an environment which gave little opportunity
for the refinements of life. The people of today are none too thoughtful
of their obligation to the pioneer soldier, trader and settler. It is my
hope that in addition to contributing to the annals of the Old
Northwest, this work may create a deeper appreciation of these early
builders. At the same time it has been my desire to treat all these
people objectively rather than in the fictitious way of the
sentimentalist.
Previous histories dealing with the early history of Fort Wayne, while
furnishing valuable material, have either been incomplete or inaccurate,
chiefly because many primary sources were not available to the writers
or were not known to exist. I have made extensive use of primary
material found in the Burton Collection at Detroit, the Chicago
Historical Library, and the Fort Wayne Public Library as well as in the
British Museum and the Public Records Office in London and the _Archives
des Colonies_ in Paris. Part of the European research was made possible
by a summer grant from St. Mary’s College, Notre Dame, Indiana.
Acknowledgments are due to many individuals who have so kindly given
assistance, especially to the staffs of the various archives and
libraries which I have used in Chicago, Detroit, Paris, and London. Mr.
Albert Diserens, chief of the Indiana collection of the Fort Wayne
Public Library, aided me in every way. A special debt is due to the
officers and members of the Allen County-Fort Wayne Historical Society
and in particular Mr. Fred Reynolds who assisted immeasurably in
arranging for the publication of this work. To the late Reverend Thomas
T. McAvoy of the University of Notre Dame I owe deep gratitude for first
encouraging me to study the history of my hometown.
While almost all early American cities which originated as military
outposts later changed their names—Cincinnati (Fort Washington). Chicago
(Fort Dearborn)—or simply dropped “fort” from their titles—Defiance,
Ohio—for some reason the citizens of Fort Wayne never followed this
common practice. The old “Fort Wayne” fell into ruins, but the name
survives. Undoubtedly few individuals have even wondered why, but I
believe, or would like to believe, that somehow the later citizens of
Fort Wayne wanted to retain an identity with the past—a past that is
worth knowing and remembering. It is to these citizens—past and present
and to my own family that I dedicate this book.
[1]_Fort Wayne during the Canal Era._
Chapter I
The French and British Period
To know the history of any town is to know the significance of its
geographical position. This is particularly true of the early history of
Fort Wayne (Known to the Indians as Kiskakon or Kekionga[1] and to the
French and English as Fort Miami). Therefore, it is necessary to explain
the significance of the site of Fort Wayne in an era of exploration and
trade when wilderness was king and waterways were the arteries of
communication. The story of Fort Wayne begins as the history of the
Maumee-Wabash portage. Located at the confluence of rivers, St. Joseph
and St. Mary’s, which together form the Maumee or Miami of Lake Erie,
Fort Wayne is situated at the northeast starting point of the seven mile
portage to the Little River, (see map on page 2) Twenty-two miles
southwest of Fort Wayne, the Little River joins the Wabash, which, in
turn, empties into the Ohio and then into the Mississippi. The
Maumee-Wabash portage was from the early seventeenth century until the
mid-nineteenth century a vital overland link that tied together the
great waterway systems of the St. Lawrence and Mississippi. In other
respects the site of Fort Wayne was at the “crossroads”. From this point
the traveler could journey northeast up the St. Joseph river into the
present state of Michigan, or turn southeast up the St. Mary’s river
into the central portion of the present state of Ohio. This, then, is
the significance of the words of Little Turtle, the great Miami chief,
who once called the site of Fort Wayne, “that glorious gate... through
which all the good words of our chiefs had to pass from the north to the
south, and from the east to the west.”[2]
[Illustration: Map]
Of the five great portage routes used by the French,[3] the
Maumee-Wabash was the last to be exploited, for, unlike the more
northern routes, it was along the line of “most resistance”. The
Iroquois warfare in this region and as far west as the Illinois country
made it virtually impossible for the French to use the routes extending
through southern Lake Erie. With the establishment of the French posts
along the lower Mississippi, however, the Maumee-Wabash portage gained
importance, as it proved to be the shortest route connecting the
settlements of New France (Canada) and Louisiana. The first white man to
use this portage may have been some unknown French “coureur de bois”,
pursuing his lawless life of adventure and fur-trading. There is some
claim that LaSalle used the Maumee-Wabash portage in his explorations of
1670 or later, but it is based, for the most part, on conjecture and is
still open to various interpretations.[4] In any event, LaSalle’s
description of the territory between Lake Erie and Lake Michigan
indicates a familiarity with the region, and it was he who first
directed the attention of the French to this portage by pointing out the
way to shorten the route to the lower Ohio river.[5] Whatever LaSalle’s
plans were for opening up this easy channel of communications[6] they
had to be abandoned because of the failure of the French to appease the
Iroquois. This powerful confederacy had all but annihilated the Erie
Indians earlier in the century and were now pressing their attacks upon
the western tribes south of Lake Michigan. Out of fear of the Iroquois
the area of Indiana was largely abandoned by the Miam | 3,156.362404 |
2023-11-16 19:09:40.4105610 | 4,400 | 119 |
Produced by Distributed Proofreaders
SAXE HOLM'S STORIES
[by Helen Hunt Jackson]
1873
Content.
Draxy Miller's Dowry
The Elder's Wife
Whose Wife Was She?
The One-Legged Dancers
How One Woman Kept Her Husband
Esther Wynn's Love-Letters
Draxy Miller's Dowry.
Part I.
When Draxy Miller's father was a boy, he read a novel in which the heroine
was a Polish girl, named Darachsa. The name stamped itself indelibly upon
his imagination; and when, at the age of thirty-five, he took his
first-born daughter in his arms, his first words were--"I want her called
Darachsa."
"What!" exclaimed the doctor, turning sharply round, and looking out above
his spectacles; "what heathen kind of a name is that?"
"Oh, Reuben!" groaned a feeble voice from the baby's mother; and the nurse
muttered audibly, as she left the room, "There ain't never no luck comes
of them outlandish names."
The whole village was in a state of excitement before night. Poor Reuben
Miller had never before been the object of half so much interest. His
slowly dwindling fortunes, the mysterious succession of his ill-lucks, had
not much stirred the hearts of the people. He was a retice'nt man; he
loved books, and had hungered for them all his life; his townsmen
unconsciously resented what they pretended to despise; and so it had
slowly come about that in the village where his father had lived and died,
and where he himself had grown up, and seemed likely to live and die,
Reuben Miller was a lonely man, and came and went almost as a stranger
might come and go. His wife was simply a shadow and echo of himself; one
of those clinging, tender, unselfish, will-less women, who make pleasant,
and affectionate, and sunny wives enough for rich, prosperous,
unsentimental husbands, but who are millstones about the necks of
sensitive, impressionable, unsuccessful men. If Jane Miller had been a
strong, determined woman, Reuben would not have been a failure. The only
thing he had needed in life had been persistent purpose and courage. The
right sort of wife would have given him both. But when he was discouraged,
baffled, Jane clasped her hands, sat down, and looked into his face with
streaming eyes. If he smiled, she smiled; but that was just when it was of
least consequence that she should smile. So the twelve years of their
married life had gone on slowly, very slowly, but still surely, from bad
to worse; nothing prospered in Reuben's hands. The farm which he had
inherited from his father was large, but not profitable. He tried too long
to work the whole of it, and then he sold the parts which he ought to have
kept. He sunk a great portion of his little capital in a flour-mill, which
promised to be a great success, paid well for a couple of years, and then
burnt down, uninsured. He took a contract for building one section of a
canal, which was to pass through part of his land; sub-contractors cheated
him, and he, in his honesty, almost ruined himself to right their wrong.
Then he opened a little store; here, also, he failed. He was too honest,
too sympathizing, too inert. His day-book was a curiosity; he had a vein
of humor which no amount of misfortune could quench; and he used to enter
under the head of "given" all the purchases which he knew were not likely
to be paid for. It was at sight of this book, one day, that Jane Miller,
for the first and only time in her life, lost her temper with Reuben.
"Well, I must say, Reuben Miller, if I die for it," said she, "I haven't
had so much as a pound of white sugar nor a single lemon in my house for
two years, and I do think it's a burnin' shame for you to go on sellin'
'em to them shiftless Greens, that'll never pay you a cent, and you know
it!"
Reuben was sitting on the counter smoking his pipe and reading an old
tattered copy of Dryden's translation of Virgil. He lifted his clear blue
eyes in astonishment, put down his pipe, and, slowly swinging his long
legs over the counter, caught Jane by the waist, put both his arms round
her, and said,--
"Why, mother, what's come over you! You know poor little Eph's dyin' of
that white swellin'. You wouldn't have me refuse his mother anything we've
got, would you?"
Jane Miller walked back to the house with tears in her eyes, but her
homely sallow face was transfigured by love as she went about her work,
thinking to herself,--
"There never was such a man's Reuben, anyhow. I guess he'll get interest
one o' these days for all he's lent the Lord, first and last, without
anybody's knowin' it."
But the Lord has His own system of reckoning compound interest, and His
ways of paying are not our ways. He gave no visible sign of recognition of
indebtedness to Reuben. Things went harder and harder with the Millers,
until they had come to such a pass that when Reuben Miller went after the
doctor, in the early dawn of the day on which little Draxy was born, he
clasped his hands in sorrow and humiliation before he knocked at the
doctor's door; and his only words were hard words for a man of
sensitiveness and pride to speak:--
"Doctor Cobb, will you come over to my wife? I don't dare to be sure I can
ever pay you; but if there's anything in the store "--
"Pshaw, pshaw, Reuben, don't speak of that; you'll be all right in a few
years," said the kind old doctor, who had known Reuben from his boyhood,
and understood him far better than any one else did.
And so little Draxy was born.
"It's a mercy it's a girl at last," said the village gossips. "Mis'
Miller's had a hard time with them four great boys, and Mr. Miller so
behindhand allers."
"And who but Reuben Miller'd ever think of givin' a Christian child such a
name!" they added.
But what the name was nobody rightly made out; nor even whether it had
been actually given to the baby, or had only been talked of; and between
curiosity and antagonism, the villagers were so drawn to Reuben Miller's
store, that it began to look quite like a run of custom.
"If I hold out a spell on namin' her," said Reuben, as in the twilight of
the third day he sat by his wife's bedside; "if I hold out a spell on
namin' her, I shall get all the folks in the district into the store, and
sell out clean," and he laughed quizzically, and stroked the little
mottled face which lay on the pillow. "There's Squire Williams and Mis'
Conkey both been in this afternoon; and Mis' Conkey took ten pounds of
that old Hyson tea you thought I'd never sell; and Squire Williams, he
took the last of those new-fangled churns, and says he, 'I expect you'll
want to drive trade a little brisker, Reuben, now there's a little girl to
be provided for; and, by the way, what are you going to call her?'
"'Oh, it's quite too soon to settle, that,' said I, as if I hadn't a name
in my head yet. And then Mis' Conkey spoke up and said: 'Well, I did hear
you were going to name her after a heathen goddess that nobody over heard
of, and I do hope you will consider her feelings when she grows up.'
"'I hope I always shall, Mis' Conkey,' said I; and she didn't know what to
say next. So she picked up her bundle of tea, and they stepped off
together quite dignified.
"But I think we'll call her Darachsa, in spite of 'em all, Jane," added
Reuben with a hesitating half laugh.
"Oh, Reuben!" Jane said again. It was the strongest remonstrance on which
she ever ventured. She did not like the name; but she adored Reuben. So
when the baby was three months old, she was carried into the meeting-house
in a faded blue cashmere cloak, and baptized in the name of the Father,
and the Son, and the Holy Ghost, "Darachsa Lawton Miller."
Jane Miller's babies always thrived. The passive acquiescence of her
nature was a blessing to them. The currents of their blood were never
rendered unhealthful by overwrought nerves or disturbed temper in their
mother. Their infancy was as placid and quiet as if they had been kittens.
Not until they were old enough to understand words, and to comprehend
deprivations, did they suffer because of their poverty. Then a serious
look began to settle upon their faces; they learned to watch their father
and mother wistfully, and to wonder what was wrong; their childhood was
very short.
Before Draxy was ten years old she had become her father's inseparable
companion, confidant, and helper. He wondered, sometimes almost in terror,
what it meant, that he could say to this little child what he could not
say to her mother; that he often detected himself in a desire to ask of
this babe advice or suggestion which he never dreamed of asking from his
wife.
But Draxy was wise. She had the sagacity which comes from great tenderness
and loyalty, combined with a passionate nature. In such a woman's soul
there is sometimes an almost supernatural instinct. She will detect danger
and devise safety with a rapidity and ingenuity which are incredible. But
to such a nature will also come the subtlest and deepest despairs of which
the human heart is capable. The same instinct which foresees and devises
for the loved ones will also recognize their most hidden traits, their
utmost possibilities, their inevitable limitations, with a completeness
and infallibility akin to that of God Himself. Jane Miller, all her life
long, believed in the possibility of Reuben's success; charged his
failures to outside occasions, and hoped always in a better day to come.
Draxy, early in her childhood, instinctively felt, what she was far too
young consciously to know, that her father would never be a happier man;
that "things" would always go against him. She had a deeper reverence for
the uprightness and sweet simplicity of his nature than her mother ever
could have had. She comprehended, Jane believed; Draxy felt, Jane saw.
Without ever having heard of such a thing as fate, little Draxy recognized
that her father was fighting with it, and that fate was the stronger! Her
little arms clasped closer and closer round his neck, and her serene blue
eyes, so like his, and yet so wondrously unlike, by reason of their latent
fire and strength, looked this unseen enemy steadfastly in the face, day
by day.
She was a wonderful child. Her physical health was perfect. The first ten
years of her life were spent either out of doors, or in her father's lap.
He would not allow her to attend the district school; all she knew she
learned from him. Reuben Miller had never looked into an English grammar
or a history, but he knew Shakespeare by heart, and much of Homer; a few
odd volumes of Walter Scott's novels, some old voyages, a big family
Bible, and a copy of Byron, were the only other books in his house. As
Draxy grew older, Reuben now and then borrowed from the minister books
which he thought would do her good; but the child and he both loved Homer
and the Bible so much better than any later books, that they soon drifted
back to them. It was a little sad, except that it was so beautiful, to
see the isolated life these two led in the family. The boys were good,
sturdy, noisy boys. They went to school in the winter and worked on the
farm in the summer, like all farmers' boys. Reuben, the oldest, was
eighteen when Draxy was ten; he was hired, by a sort of indenture, for
three years, on a neighboring farm, and came home only on alternate
Sundays. Jamie, and Sam, and Lawton were at home; young as they were, they
did men's service in many ways. Jamie had a rare gift for breaking horses,
and for several years the only ready money which the little farm had
yielded was the price of the colts which Jamie raised and trained so
admirably that they sold well. The other two boys were strong and willing,
but they had none of their father's spirituality, or their mother's
gentleness. Thus, in spite of Reuben Miller's deep love for his children,
he was never at ease in his boys' presence; and, as they grew older,
nothing but the influence of their mother's respect for their father
prevented their having an impatient contempt for his unlikeness to the
busy, active, thrifty farmers of the neighborhood.
It was a strange picture that the little kitchen presented on a winter
evening. Reuben sat always on the left hand of the big fire-place, with a
book on his knees. Draxy was curled up on an old-fashioned cherry-wood
stand close to his chair, but so high that she rested her little dimpled
chin on his head. A tallow candle stood on a high bracket, made from a
fungus which Reuben had found in the woods. When the candle flared and
dripped, Draxy sprang up on the stand, and, poised on one foot, reached
over her father's head to snuff it. She looked like a dainty fairy
half-floating in the air, but nobody knew it. Jane sat in a high-backed
wooden rocking-chair, which had a flag bottom and a ruffled calico
cushion, and could only rock a very few inches back and forth, owing to
the loss of half of one of the rockers. For the first part of the evening,
Jane always knitted; but by eight o'clock the hands relaxed, the needles
dropped, the tired head fell back against the chair, and she was fast
asleep.
The boys were by themselves in the farther corner of the room, playing
checkers or doing sums, or reading the village newspaper. Reuben and Draxy
were as alone as if the house had been empty. Sometimes he read to her in
a whisper; sometimes he pointed slowly along the lines in silence, and the
wise little eyes from above followed intently. All questions and
explanations were saved till the next morning, when Draxy, still curled up
like a kitten, would sit mounted on the top of the buckwheat barrel in the
store, while her father lay stretched on the counter, smoking. They never
talked to each other, except when no one could hear; that is, they never
spoke in words; there was mysterious and incessant communication between
them whenever they were together, as there is between all true lovers.
At nine o'clock Reuben always shut the book, and said, "Kiss me, little
daughter." Draxy kissed him, and said, "Good-night, father dear," and that
was all. The other children called him "pa," as was the universal custom
in the village. But Draxy even in her babyhood had never once used the
word. Until she was seven or eight years old she called him "Farver;"
after that, always "father dear." Then Reuben would wake Jane up, sighing
usually, "Poor mother, how tired she is!" Sometimes Jane said when she
kissed Draxy, at the door of her little room, "Why don't you kiss your pa
for good-night?"
"I kissed father before you waked up, ma," was always Draxy's quiet
answer.
And so the years went on. There was much discomfort, much deprivation in
Reuben Miller's house. Food was not scarce; the farm yielded enough, such
as it was, very coarse and without variety; but money was hard to get; the
store seemed to be absolutely unremunerative, though customers were not
wanting; and the store and the farm were all that Reuben Miller had in the
world. But in spite of the poor food; in spite of the lack of most which
money buys; in spite of the loyal, tender, passionate despair of her
devotion to her father, Draxy grew fairer and fairer, stronger and
stronger. At fourteen her physique was that of superb womanhood. She had
inherited her body wholly from her father. For generations back, the
Millers had been marked for their fine frames. The men were all over six
feet tall, and magnificently made; and the women were much above the
average size and strength. On Draxy's fourteenth birthday she weighed one
hundred and fifty pounds, and measured five feet six inches in height. Her
coloring was that of an English girl, and her bright brown hair fell below
her waist in thick masses. To see the face of a simple-hearted child,
eager but serene, determined but lovingly gentle, surrounded and glorified
by such splendid physical womanhood, was a rare sight. Reuben Miller's
eyes filled with tears often as he secretly watched his daughter, and said
to himself, "Oh, what is to be her fate! what man is worthy of the wife
she will be?" But the village people saw only a healthy, handsome girl,
"overgrown," they thought, and "as queer as her father before her," they
said, for Draxy, very early in life, had withdrawn herself somewhat from
the companionship of the young people of the town.
As for Jane, she loved and reverenced Draxy, very much as she did Reuben,
with touching devotion, but without any real comprehension of her nature.
If she sometimes felt a pang in seeing how much more Reuben talked with
Draxy than with her, how much more he sought to be with Draxy than with
her, she stifled it, and, reproaching herself for disloyalty to each, set
herself to work for them harder than before.
In Draxy's sixteenth year the final blow of misfortune fell upon Reuben
Miller's head.
A brother of Jane's, for whom, in an hour of foolish generosity, Reuben
had indorsed a note of a considerable amount, failed. Reuben's farm was
already heavily mortgaged. There was nothing to be done but to sell it.
Purchasers were not plenty nor eager; everybody knew that the farm must be
sold for whatever it would bring, and each man who thought of buying hoped
to profit somewhat, in a legitimate and Christian way, by Reuben's
extremity.
Reuben's courage would have utterly forsaken him now, except for Draxy's
calmness. Jane was utterly unnerved; wept silently from morning till
night, and implored Reuben to see her brother's creditors, and beg them
to release him from his obligation. But Draxy, usually so gentle, grew
almost stern when such suggestions were made.
"You don't understand, ma," she said, with flushing cheeks. "It is a
promise. Father must pay it. He cannot ask to have it given back to him."
But with all Draxy's inflexibility of resolve, she could not help being
disheartened. She could not see how they were to live; the three rooms
over the store could easily be fitted up into an endurable dwelling-place;
but what was to supply the food which the farm had hitherto given them?
There was literally no way open for a man or a woman to earn money in that
little farming village. | 3,156.430601 |
2023-11-16 19:09:40.5301450 | 717 | 9 |
This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.
SONGS
OF THE
ARMY OF THE NIGHT.
* * * * *
BY
FRANCIS ADAMS.
* * * * *
"_For the cause of Labour all over the Earth_."
* * * * *
SECOND EDITION.
* * * * *
London:
WILLIAM REEVES, 185, FLEET STREET, E.C.
TO EDITH.
"My sweet, my child, through all this night
Of dark and wind and rain,
Where thunder crashes, and the light
Sears the bewildered brain,
"It is your face, your lips, your eyes
I see rise up; I hear
Your voice that sobs and calls and cries,
Or shrills and mocks at fear.
"O this that's mine is yours as well,
For side by side our feet
Trod through these bitter brakes of hell.
Take it, my child, my sweet!"
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Preface 11
This Book 15
SONGS OF THE ARMY OF THE NIGHT.
_Proem_:--"Outside London" 18
_PART I.--ENGLAND_.
In the Camp 19
"Axiom" 20
Drill 20
Evening Hymn in the Hovels 21
In the Street: "Lord Shaftesbury" 22
"Liberty" 22
In the Edgware Road 24
To the Girls of the Unions 24
Hagar 25
"Why?" 26
A Visitor in the Camp 27
"Lord Leitrim" 28
"Anarchism" 28
Belgravia by Night: "Move on!" 29
Jesus 29
Parallels for the Pious 30
"Prayer" 30
To the Christians 31
"Defeat" 31
To John Ruskin 32
To the Emperor William 34
Song of the Dispossessed: "To Jesus" 34
Art 35
The Peasants' Revolt 35
"Analogy" 37
In Trafalgar Square 37
A Street Fight 37
To a Workman, a would-be Suicide 39
Dublin at Dawn 40
The Caged Eagle 41
To Ireland 42
To Charles Parnell 42
An "Assassin" 43
Russia 44
Pere-la-Chaise 45
Aux Ternes 46
"The Truth" 47
To the Sons of Labour 48
To the Artists 49
"One among so Many" 50
The New Locksley Hall 52
Farewell to the Market: "Susannah and Mary-Jane" 58
_PART II.--HERE AND THERE_.
In the Pit: "Chant of the Firemen" 60
A Mahommadan Ship Fireman 61
To India 61
To England:
I. "There was a time" 61
II | 3,156.550185 |
2023-11-16 19:09:40.8316610 | 1,193 | 9 |
Produced by Mike Lynch
THE STARK MUNRO LETTERS
By J. Stark Munro
BEING A SERIES OF TWELVE LETTERS
WRITTEN BY J. STARK MUNRO, M.B.,
TO HIS FRIEND AND FORMER FELLOW-STUDENT,
HERBERT SWANBOROUGH,
OF LOWELL, MASSACHUSETTS,
DURING THE YEARS 1881-1884
Edited And Arranged By A. Conan Doyle
The letters of my friend Mr. Stark Munro appear to me to form so
connected a whole, and to give so plain an account of some of the
troubles which a young man may be called upon to face right away at the
outset of his career, that I have handed them over to the gentleman who
is about to edit them. There are two of them, the fifth and the ninth,
from which some excisions are necessary; but in the main I hope that
they may be reproduced as they stand. I am sure that there is no
privilege which my friend would value more highly than the thought that
some other young man, harassed by the needs of this world and doubts
of the next, should have gotten strength by reading how a brother had
passed down the valley of shadow before him.
HERBERT SWANBOROUGH.
LOWELL, MASS.
THE STARK MUNRO LETTERS.
I. HOME. 30th March, 1881.
I have missed you very much since your return to America, my dear
Bertie, for you are the one man upon this earth to whom I have ever been
able to unreservedly open my whole mind. I don't know why it is; for,
now that I come to think of it, I have never enjoyed very much of your
confidence in return. But that may be my fault. Perhaps you don't find
me sympathetic, even though I have every wish to be. I can only say that
I find you intensely so, and perhaps I presume too much upon the fact.
But no, every instinct in my nature tells me that I don't bore you by my
confidences.
Can you remember Cullingworth at the University? You never were in the
athletic set, and so it is possible that you don't. Anyway, I'll take it
for granted that you don't, and explain it all from the beginning. I'm
sure that you would know his photograph, however, for the reason that he
was the ugliest and queerest-looking man of our year.
Physically he was a fine athlete--one of the fastest and most determined
Rugby forwards that I have ever known, though he played so savage a game
that he was never given his international cap. He was well-grown, five
foot nine perhaps, with square shoulders, an arching chest, and a quick
jerky way of walking. He had a round strong head, bristling with short
wiry black hair. His face was wonderfully ugly, but it was the ugliness
of character, which is as attractive as beauty. His jaw and eyebrows
were scraggy and rough-hewn, his nose aggressive and red-shot, his eyes
small and near set, light blue in colour, and capable of assuming a
very genial and also an exceedingly vindictive expression. A slight wiry
moustache covered his upper lip, and his teeth were yellow, strong, and
overlapping. Add to this that he seldom wore collar or necktie, that his
throat was the colour and texture of the bark of a Scotch fir, and that
he had a voice and especially a laugh like a bull's bellow. Then you
have some idea (if you can piece all these items in your mind) of the
outward James Cullingworth.
But the inner man, after all, was what was most worth noting. I don't
pretend to know what genius is. Carlyle's definition always seemed to me
to be a very crisp and clear statement of what it is NOT. Far from its
being an infinite capacity for taking pains, its leading characteristic,
as far as I have ever been able to observe it, has been that it allows
the possessor of it to attain results by a sort of instinct which other
men could only reach by hard work. In this sense Cullingworth was the
greatest genius that I have ever known. He never seemed to work, and yet
he took the anatomy prize over the heads of all the ten-hour-a-day
men. That might not count for much, for he was quite capable of idling
ostentatiously all day and then reading desperately all night; but
start a subject of your own for him, and then see his originality and
strength. Talk about torpedoes, and he would catch up a pencil, and on
the back of an old envelope from his pocket he would sketch out some
novel contrivance for piercing a ship's netting and getting at her side,
which might no doubt involve some technical impossibility, but which
would at least be quite plausible and new. Then as he drew, his
bristling eyebrows would contract, his small eyes would gleam with
excitement, his lips would be pressed together, and he would end by
banging on the paper with his open hand, and shouting in his exultation.
You would think that his one mission in life was to invent torpedoes.
But next instant, if you were to express surprise as to how it was that
the Egyptian workmen elevated the stones to the top of the pyramids, out
would come the pencil | 3,156.851701 |
2023-11-16 19:09:41.1825560 | 2,922 | 14 |
Produced by Martin Adamson
THE LADY FROM THE SEA
By Henrik Ibsen
Translated by Eleanor Marx-Aveling
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Doctor Wangel.
Ellida Wangel, his second wife.
Bolette,
Hilde (not yet grown up), his daughters by his first wife.
Arnholm (second master at a college).
Lyngstrand.
Ballested.
A Stranger.
Young People of the Town.
Tourists.
Visitors.
(The action takes place in small fjord town, Northern Norway.)
THE LADY FROM THE SEA
ACT I
(SCENE.--DOCTOR WANGEL'S house, with a large verandah garden in front of
and around the house. Under the verandah a flagstaff. In the garden
an arbour, with table and chairs. Hedge, with small gate at the back.
Beyond, a road along the seashore. An avenue of trees along the road.
Between the trees are seen the fjord, high mountain ranges and peaks. A
warm and brilliantly clear summer morning.
BALLESTED, middle-aged, wearing an old velvet jacket, and a
broad-brimmed artist's hat, stands under the flagstaff, arranging the
ropes. The flag is lying on the ground. A little way from him is an
easel, with an outspread canvas. By the easel on a camp-stool, brushes,
a palette, and box of colours.
BOLETTE WANGEL comes from the room opening on the verandah. She carries
a large vase with flowers, which she puts down on the table.)
Bolette. Well, Ballested, does it work smoothly?
Ballested. Certainly, Miss Bolette, that's easy enough. May I ask--do
you expect any visitors today?
Bolette. Yes, we're expecting Mr. Arnholm this morning. He got to town
in the night.
Ballested. Arnholm? Wait a minute--wasn't Arnholm the man who was tutor
here several years ago?
Bolette. Yes, it is he.
Ballested. Oh, really! Is he coming into these parts again?
Bolette. That's why we want to have the flag up.
Ballested. Well, that's reasonable enough.
(BOLETTE goes into the room again. A little after LYNGSTRAND enters from
the road and stands still, interested by the easel and painting gear. He
is a slender youth, poorly but carefully dressed, and looks delicate.)
Lyngstrand (on the other side of the hedge). Good-morning.
Ballested (turning round). Hallo! Good-morning. (Hoists up flag). That's
it! Up goes the balloon. (Fastens the ropes, and then busies himself
about the easel.) Good-morning, my dear sir. I really don't think I've
the pleasure of--Lyngstrand. I'm sure you're a painter.
Ballested. Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be?
Lyngstrand. Yes, I can see you are. May I take the liberty of coming in
a moment?
Ballested. Would you like to come in and see?
Lyngstrand. I should like to immensely.
Ballested. Oh! there's nothing much to see yet. But come in. Come a
little closer.
Lyngstrand. Many thanks. (Comes in through the garden gate.)
Ballested (painting). It's the fjord there between the islands I'm
working at.
Lyngstrand. So I see.
Ballested. But the figure is still wanting. There's not a model to be
got in this town.
Lyngstrand. Is there to be a figure, too?
Ballested. Yes. Here by the rocks in the foreground a mermaid is to lie,
half-dead.
Lyngstrand. Why is she to be half-dead?
Ballested. She has wandered hither from the sea, and can't find her way
out again. And so, you see, she lies there dying in the brackish water.
Lyngstrand. Ah, I see.
Ballested. The mistress of this house put it into my head to do
something of the kind.
Lyngstrand. What shall you call the picture when it's finished?
Ballested. I think of calling it "The Mermaid's End."
Lyngstrand. That's capital! You're sure to make something fine of it.
Ballested (looking at him). In the profession too, perhaps?
Lyngstrand. Do you mean a painter?
Ballested. Yes.
Lyngstrand. No, I'm not that; but I'm going to be a sculptor. My name is
Hans Lyngstrand.
Ballested. So you're to be a sculptor? Yes, yes; the art of sculpture is
a nice, pretty art in its way. I fancy I've seen you in the street once
or twice. Have you been staying here long?
Lyngstrand. No; I've only been here a fortnight. But I shall try to stop
till the end of the summer.
Ballested. For the bathing?
Lyngstrand. Yes; I wanted to see if I could get a little stronger.
Ballested. Not delicate, surely?
Lyngstrand. Yes, perhaps I am a little delicate; but it's nothing
dangerous. Just a little tightness on the chest.
Ballested. Tush!--a bagatelle! You should consult a good doctor.
Lyngstrand. Yes, I thought of speaking to Doctor Wangel one of these
times.
Ballested. You should. (Looks out to the left.) There's another steamer,
crowded with passengers. It's really marvellous how travelling has
increased here of late years.
Lyngstrand. Yes, there's a good deal of traffic here, I think.
Ballested. And lots of summer visitors come here too. I often hear our
good town will lose its individuality with all these foreign goings on.
Lyngstrand. Were you born in the town?
Ballested. No; but I have accla--acclimatised myself. I feel united to
the place by the bonds of time and habit.
Lyngstrand. Then you've lived here a long time?
Ballested. Well--about seventeen or eighteen years. I came here with
Skive's Dramatic Company. But then we got into difficulties, and so the
company broke up and dispersed in all directions.
Lyngstrand. But you yourself remained here?
Ballested. I remained, and I've done very well. I was then working
chiefly as decorative artist, don't you know.
(BOLETTE comes out with a rocking-chair, which she places on the
verandah.)
Bolette (speaking into the room). Hilde, see if you can find the
embroidered footstool for father.
Lyngstrand (going up to the verandah, bows). Good-morning, Miss Wangel.
Bolette (by the balustrade). What! Is it you, Mr. Lyngstrand?
Good-morning. Excuse me one moment, I'm only--(Goes into room.)
Ballested. Do you know the family?
Lyngstrand. Not well. I've only met the young ladies now and again in
company; and I had a chat with Mrs. Wangel the last time we had music up
at the "View." She said I might come and see them.
Ballested. Now, do you know, you ought to cultivate their acquaintance.
Lyngstrand. Yes; I'd been thinking of paying a visit. Just a sort of
call. If only I could find some excuse--
Ballested. Excuse! Nonsense! (Looking out to the left.) Damn it!
(Gathering his things.) The steamer's by the pier already. I must get
off to the hotel. Perhaps some of the new arrivals may want me. For I'm
a hairdresser, too, don't you know.
Lyngstrand. You are certainly very many-sided, sir.
Ballested. In small towns one has to try to acclam--acclimatise Oneself
in various branches. If you should require anything in the hair line--a
little pomatum or such like--you've only to ask for Dancing-master
Ballested.
Lyngstrand. Dancing master!
Ballested. President of the "Wind Band Society," by your leave. We've a
concert on this evening up at the "View." Goodbye, goodbye!
(He goes out with his painting gear through the garden gate.
HILDE comes out with the footstool. BOLETTE brings more flowers.
LYNGSTRAND bows to HILDE from the garden below.)
Hilde (by the balustrade, not returning his bow). Bolette said you had
ventured in today.
Lyngstrand. Yes; I took the liberty of coming in for a moment.
Hilde. Have you been out for a morning walk?
Lyngstrand. Oh, no! nothing came of the walk this morning.
Hilde. Have you been bathing, then?
Lyngstrand. Yes; I've been in the water a little while. I saw your
mother down there. She was going into her bathing-machine.
Hilde. Who was?
Lyngstrand. Your mother.
Hilde. Oh! I see. (She puts the stool in front of the rocking-chair.)
Bolette (interrupting). Didn't you see anything of father's boat out on
the fjord?
Lyngstrand. Yes; I thought I saw a sailing-boat that was steering
inland.
Bolette. I'm sure that was father. He's been to visit patients on the
islands. (She is arranging things on the table.)
Lyngstrand (taking a step up the stairs to the verandah). Why, how
everything's decorated here with flowers!
Bolette. Yes; doesn't it look nice?
Lyngstrand. It looks lovely! It looks as if it were some festival day in
the house.
Hilde. That's exactly what it is.
Lyngstrand. I might have guessed it! I'm sure it's your father's
birthday.
Bolette (warningly to HILDE). Hm--hm!
Hilde (taking no notice of her). No, mother's.
Lyngstrand. Oh! Your mother's!
Bolette (in low voice, angrily). Really, Hilde!
Hilde (the same). Let me be! (To LYNGSTRAND.) I suppose you're going
home to breakfast now?
Lyngstrand (going down steps). Yes, I suppose I must go and get
something to eat.
Hilde. I'm sure you find the living very good at the hotel!
Lyngstrand. I'm not staying at the hotel now. It was too expensive for
me.
Hilde. Where are you staying, then?
Lyngstrand. I'm staying up at Mrs. Jensen's.
Hilde. What Mrs. Jensen's?
Lyngstrand. The midwife.
Hilde. Excuse me, Mr. Lyngstrand, but I really have other matters to
attend to Lyngstrand. Oh! I'm sure I ought not to have said that.
Hilde. Said what?
Lyngstrand. What I said.
Hilde (looking contemptuously at him). I don't understand you in the
least.
Lyngstrand. No, no. But I must say goodbye for the present.
Bolette (comes forward to the steps). Good-bye, good-bye, Mr.
Lyngstrand. You must excuse us now. But another day--when you've plenty
of time--and inclination--you really must come in and see father and the
rest of us.
Lyngstrand. Yes; thanks, very much. I shall be delighted. (Bows, and
goes out through the garden gate. As he goes along the road he bows
again towards the verandah.)
Hilde (in low voice). Adieu, Monsieur! Please remember me to Mother
Jensen.
Bolette (in a low voice, shaking her arm). Hilde! You naughty child! Are
you quite crazy? He might have heard you.
Hilde. Pshaw! Do you think I care about that?
Bolette (looking out to the right). Here's father!
(WANGEL, in travelling dress and carrying a small bag, comes from the
footpath.)
Wangel. See! I'm back again, little girls! (He enters through the garden
gate.)
Bolette (going towards him at the bottom of the garden). Oh! It is
delightful that you've come!
Hilde (also going up to him). Now have you got off for the whole day,
father?
Wangel. Oh! no. I must go down to the office for a little while
presently. I say--do you know if Arnholm has come?
Bolette. Yes; he arrived in the night. We sent to the hotel to enquire.
Wangel. Then you've not seen him yet?
Bolette. No; but he's sure to come here this morning.
Wangel. Yes; he's sure to do that.
Hilde (pulling him). Father, now you must look round.
Wangel (looking towards the verandah). Yes, I see well enough, child.
It's quite festive.
Bolette. Now, don't you think we've arranged it nicely?
Wangel. I must say you have. Are--are we alone at home now?
Hilde. Yes; she | 3,157.202596 |
2023-11-16 19:09:41.5609260 | 258 | 32 |
Produced by David Deley
Astral Worship
by
J. H. Hill, M. D.
"Now, what I want is--facts."--_Boz._
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION 5
THE GEOCENTRIC SYSTEM OF NATURE 13
The Earth 13
The Firmament 13
The Planets 14
The Constellations 15
The Zodiac 15
THE SACRED NUMBERS 7 AND 12 17
THE TWELVE THOUSAND YEAR CYCLE 18
THE ANCIENT TRIAD 19
GOD SOL 22
THE ANCIENT COSMOGONY 30
FALL AND REDEMPTION OF MAN 31
INCARNATIONS OF GOD SOL 33
FABLE OF THE TWELVE LABORS 36
ANNIVERSARIES OF SOLAR WORSHIP 40
The Nativity 40
Epiphany or Twelfth Day 41
Lent or Lenten Season 42
Passion Week 44
Passion Plays 45
Resurrection and Easter Festival 46 | 3,157.580966 |
2023-11-16 19:09:41.6255400 | 258 | 315 |
Produced by Donald Lainson
LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROADSIDE SKETCHES
By William Makepeace Thackeray (AKA Titmarsh)
I. FROM RICHMOND IN SURREY TO BRUSSELS IN BELGIUM
II. GHENT--BRUGES:--
Ghent (1840)
Bruges
III. WATERLOO
LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROADSIDE SKETCHES
I.--FROM RICHMOND IN SURREY TO BRUSSELS IN BELGIUM
... I quitted the "Rose Cottage Hotel" at Richmond, one of the
comfortablest, quietest, cheapest, neatest little inns in England, and
a thousand times preferable, in my opinion, to the "Star and Garter,"
whither, if you go alone, a sneering waiter, with his hair curled,
frightens you off the premises; and where, if you are bold enough to
brave the sneering waiter, you have to pay ten shillings for a bottle
of claret; and whence, if you look out of the window, you gaze on a view
which is so rich that it seems to knock you | 3,157.64558 |
2023-11-16 19:09:41.8270820 | 258 | 8 | FROM CELT TO TUDOR***
E-text prepared by MWS 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/englishlandslett01mitc
Project Gutenberg has the other three volumes of this work.
II: From Elizabeth to Anne
see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54142
III: Queen Anne and the Georges
see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37226
IV: The Later Georges to Victoria
see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54143
ENGLISH LANDS LETTERS AND KINGS
From Celt to Tudor
* * * * * *
ENGLISH LANDS LETTERS AND KINGS
_By Donald G. Mitchell_
I. From Celt to Tudor
II. From Elizabeth to Anne
III. Queen Anne and the Georges
IV. The Later Georges to Victoria
_Each 1 vol., 12mo, cloth, gilt top, $1.50_
AMERICAN LANDS AND | 3,157.847122 |
2023-11-16 19:09:41.9408610 | 36 | 25 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available | 3,157.960901 |
2023-11-16 19:09:41.9512370 | 5,140 | 9 | FUSILIERS IN THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR***
E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Christine P. Travers, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 25618-h.htm or 25618-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/5/6/1/25618/25618-h/25618-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/5/6/1/25618/25618-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling
has been maintained.
THE SECOND BATTALION ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERS IN THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR
With a Description of the Operations in the Aden Hinterland
by
MAJORS C. F. ROMER & A. E. MAINWARING
[Illustration: _W. & D. Downey._
H.R.H. The Duke of Connaught and Strathearn, K.G.,
Commander-in-Chief of The Mediterranean Forces, and Colonel-in-Chief
of The Royal Dublin Fusiliers.]
[Illustration: E Libris, The Royal Dublin Fusiliers.]
London: A. L. Humphreys, 187 Piccadilly, W.
1908
PREFACE
The 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers is one of the oldest
regiments in the service. It was raised in February and March, 1661,
to form the garrison of Bombay, which had been ceded to the Crown as
part of the dowry of the Infanta of Portugal, on her marriage with
King Charles II. It then consisted of four companies, the
establishment of each being one captain, one lieutenant, one ensign,
two sergeants, three corporals, two drummers, and 100 privates, and
arrived at Bombay on September 18th, 1662, under the command of Sir
Abraham Shipman. Under various titles it took part in nearly all the
continuous fighting of which the history of India of those days is
principally composed, being generally known as the Bombay European
Regiment, until in March, 1843, it was granted the title of 1st Bombay
Fusiliers. In 1862 the regiment was transferred to the Crown, when the
word 'Royal' was added to its title, and it became known as the 103rd
Regiment, The Royal Bombay Fusiliers. In 1873 the regiment was linked
to the Royal Madras Fusiliers, whose history up to that time had been
very similar to its own. By General Order 41, of 1881, the titles of
the two regiments underwent yet another change, when they became known
by their present names, the 1st and 2nd Battalions Royal Dublin
Fusiliers.
The 2nd Battalion first left India for home service on January 2nd,
1871, when it embarked on H.M.S. _Malabar_, arriving at Portsmouth
Harbour about 8 a.m. on February 4th, and was stationed at Parkhurst.
Its home service lasted until 1884, when it embarked for Gibraltar. In
1885 it moved to Egypt, and in 1886 to India, where it was quartered
until 1897, when it was suddenly ordered to South Africa, on account
of our strained relations with the Transvaal Republic. On arrival at
Durban, however, the difficulties had been settled for the time being,
and the regiment was quartered at Pietermaritzburg until it moved up
to Dundee in 1899, just previous to the outbreak of war.
The late Major-General Penn-Symons assumed command of the Natal force
in 1897, and from that date commenced the firm friendship and mutual
regard between him and the regiment, which lasted without a break
until the day when he met his death at Talana. The interest he took in
the battalion and his zeal resulted in a stiff training, but a
training for which we must always feel grateful, and remember with
kind, if sad, recollections. It was his custom to see a great deal of
the regiments under his command, and he very frequently lunched with
us, by which means he not only made himself personally acquainted with
the characters of the officers of the regiment, but also had an
opportunity of seeing for himself the deep _esprit de corps_ which
existed in it, and without which no regiment can ever hope to
successfully overcome the perils and hardships incidental to active
service.
As the shadow of the coming war grew dark and ever darker on the
Northern horizon, the disposition of the Natal troops underwent some
change, and General Penn-Symons' brigade, of which the regiment formed
part, was moved up to Dundee, and was there stationed at the time of
the outbreak of hostilities. In spite of the long roll of battle
honours, of which both battalions are so justly proud, the South
African Campaign was the first active service either had seen under
their present titles, and the first opportunity afforded them of
making those new titles as celebrated as the old ones which had done
so much towards the acquisition of our Indian Empire. Imbued with
these feelings the regiment lay camped within full view of Talana
Hill, waiting the oncoming of the huge wave of invasion which was so
shortly to sweep over the borders, engulf Ladysmith, and threaten to
reach Maritzburg itself. But that was not to be. Its force was spent
long ere it reached the capital, and a few horsemen near the banks of
the Mooi River marked the line of its utmost limit in this direction.
The present work only claims to be a plain soldier's narrative of the
part taken by the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers in stemming
this rush, and its subsequent efforts, its grim fights on the hills
which fringe the borders of the River Tugela, its long and weary
marches across the rolling uplands of the Transvaal, and its
subsequent monotonous life of constant vigil in fort and blockhouse,
and on escort duty.
All five battalions took part in the war. The 1st sailed from Ireland
on November 10th, 1899, and sent three companies under Major Hicks to
strengthen the 2nd Battalion. They arrived in time to share in the
action at Colenso on December 15th, and all the subsequent fighting
which finally resulted in the relief of Ladysmith, after which they
returned to the headquarters of the 1st Battalion, which formed part
of the Natal army under General Sir Redvers Buller, and later on
advanced through Laing's Nek and Alleman's Nek into the Transvaal. The
3rd Battalion sent a very strong draft of its reserve, and the 4th and
5th Battalions volunteered and came out to the front, where they
rendered most excellent service. In addition to the battalions there
were a good many officers of one or other battalion employed in
various ways in the huge theatre of operations. Major Godley and Major
Pilson had been selected for special service before the war, and the
former served in Mafeking during the siege, while the latter served
under General Plumer in his endeavours to raise it. Captain Kinsman
also served with the latter force. Major Rutherford, Adjutant of the
Ceylon Volunteers, arrived in command of the contingent from that
corps. Lieutenants Cory and Taylor served with the Mounted Infantry
most of the time, as did Lieutenants Garvice, Grimshaw, and Frankland,
after the capture of Pretoria, while Captain Carington Smith's share
in the war is briefly stated later on. Captain MacBean was on the
staff until he was killed at Nooitgedacht. The M.I. of the regiment
served with great distinction, and it is regretted that it is
impossible to include an account of the many actions and marches in
which they took part, but the present volume deals almost exclusively
with the battalion as a battalion.
The authors are desirous of expressing their most hearty and cordial
thanks to all those who have assisted them in the preparation of this
volume. They are especially indebted to Colonel H. Tempest Hicks,
C.B., without whose co-operation the work could not have been carried
out, for the loan of his diary, and for the sketches and many of the
photographs. To Colonel F. P. English, D.S.O., for the extracts from
his diary containing an account of the operations in the Aden
Hinterland and photographs. To Captain L. F. Renny for his Ladysmith
notes. Also to Sergeant-Major C. V. Brumby, Quartermaster-Sergeant
Purcell, and Mr. French (late Quartermaster-Sergeant), for assistance
in collecting data, compiling the appendix, and for photographs,
respectively.
C. F. ROMER.
A. E. MAINWARING.
CONTENTS
PART I.--FIGHTING.
CHAP. Page
I. Talana 3
II. The Retreat from Dundee 16
III. From Colenso to Estcourt 22
IV. Estcourt and Frere 28
V. The Battle of Colenso 34
VI. Venter's Spruit 42
VII. Vaal Krantz 55
VIII. Hart's and Pieter's Hills--The Relief of Ladysmith 61
IX. The Siege of Ladysmith 76
X. Aliwal North and Fourteen Streams 83
PART II.--TREKKING.
I. From Vryburg to Heidelberg 97
II. Heidelberg 111
III. After De Wet 121
IV. September in the Gatsrand 141
V. Frederickstadt--Klip River--The Losberg 164
VI. Buried Treasure--The Eastern Transvaal--The
Krugersdorp Defences 182
VII. The Last Twelve Months 193
PART III.
I. The Aden Hinterland 205
II. The Return Home and Reception 217
III. The Memorial Arch 229
APPENDIX 239
ILLUSTRATIONS
FULL-PAGE PLATES.
H.R.H. The Duke of Connaught and Strathearn,
K.G., Commander-in-chief of the
Mediterranean Forces, and Colonel-in-chief
of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers _Frontispiece_
Regimental Book-Plate _Title-page_
Casualties at Talana _Facing page_ 8
Major-General C. D. Cooper, C.B., commanding
2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers in Natal " " 24
Captain C. F. Romer and Captain E. Fetherstonhaugh " " 32
General Hart's Flank Attack from the
Boers' Point of View (Plan) " " 34
Casualties at Colenso " " 36
Group of twenty Sergeants taken after the
Battle of Colenso, all that remained
of Forty-Eight who left Maritzburg " " 40
Casualties at Tugela Heights " " 56, 64
Taking Fourteen Streams (Plan) " " 88
Miscellaneous Casualties " " 104
Colonel H. Tempest Hicks, C.B., commanding
2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers, March, 1900--March,
1904 _facing Page_ 112
Plan of Position at Zuikerbosch " " 120
Plan of Battle of Frederickstadt " " 168
Sketch Plan of Kilmarnock House and Fortifications " " 184
Krugersdorp from Kilmarnock House " " 200
Officers of the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin
Fusiliers who embarked for Aden " " 216
The Memorial Arch, Dublin " " 232
The South African Memorial, Natal " " 238
ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT.
The Last Rites 10
Armourer-Sergeant Waite--'Delenda Est Carthago' 18
Railway Bridge at Colenso 23
Boer Trenches, Colenso 36
Bringing down the Wounded 41
After the Fight 65
The Grave of Colonel Sitwell and Captain Maitland,
Gordon Highlanders (attached), near Railway
at Pieter's Hill 67
Pieter's Hill, Feb. 27th, 1900 69
Pontoon Bridge, River Tugela, Feb. 28th, 1900 70
2nd Royal, Dublin Fusiliers, heading Relief Troops,
marching into Ladysmith, March, 1900, 72
General Sir Redvers Buller, V.C., entering Ladysmith 73
The Dublins are coming--Ladysmith 74
Sir George White watching Relief Force entering
Ladysmith 75
Sergeant Davis in Meditation over 'Long Cecil' at
Kimberley. 'Shall I Take it for the Officers?' 83
St. Patrick's Day in Camp. Private Monaghan, the
Regimental Butcher, in Foreground 84
A Wash in hot Water--Aliwal North 87
The Regimental Maxim in Action at Fourteen
Streams 89
Captain Jervis, General Fitzroy Hart, C.B., C.M.G.,
and Captain Arthur Hart 91
Issuing Queen Victoria's Chocolate. Colour-Sergeant
Connell, 'G' Company, on left 93
First Entry into Krugersdorp. Captain and Adjutant
Fetherstonhaugh in Foreground 99
'Speed, Dead Slow' 104
Hoisting the Union Jack at Krugersdorp 106
Johan Meyer's House, five Miles outside Johannesburg 107
Sergeant Davis, evidently with all we wanted 108
Paardekraal Monument, Krugersdorp 110
The Officers' Mess 120
Corporal Tierney and Chef Burst 123
Fourth Class on the Z.a.s.m. 125
Fifth Class on the Z.a.s.m. 127
The Vaal River, Lindeque Drift 133
The R.D.F. Bathing in Mooi River, Potchefstroom 136
Father Mathews 142
Funeral of Commandant Theron and a British
Soldier, Sept. 6th, 1900 149
Buffelsdoorn Camp, Gatsrand Hills 152
A Group of Boer Prisoners taken at the Surprise
of Pochefstroom 153
Colour-Sergeant Cossy issuing Beer 154
'Come to the Cook-house Door, Boys!' 163
Sergeant French and the Officers' Mess, Nachtmaal 170
4.7 crossing a Drift, assisted by the Dublin Fusiliers 172
Boy Fitzpatrick waiting at Lunch 178
'The Latest Shave.' Captain G. S. Higginson (mounted)
and Major Bird 181
The Hairdresser's Shop 192
Kilmarnock, Krugersdorp 193
A Blockhouse 196
The 'Blue Caps' relieving the 'Old Toughs' 201
Dthala Camp 210
Dthala Village, From Camp 211
A Frontier Tower--Abdali Country 213
Homeward bound at last, after twenty Years'
Foreign Service 219
PART I.
FIGHTING.
THE 2ND BATTALION
ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERS
CHAPTER I.
TALANA.
'The midnight brought the signal sound of strife,
The morn the marshalling in arms, the day--
Battle's magnificently stern array.'
_Byron._
The 2nd Battalion of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers left India for
Maritzburg, Natal, in 1897, and therefore, on the outbreak of the war
between Great Britain and the South African Republics, had the
advantage of possessing some acquaintance with the topography of the
colony, and of a two years' training and preparation for the long
struggle which was to ensue.
The political situation had become so threatening by July, 1899, that
the military authorities began to take precautionary measures, and the
battalion was ordered to effect a partial mobilisation and to collect
its transport. On September 20th it moved by train to Ladysmith,[1]
and four days later proceeded to Dundee. Here Major-General Sir W.
Penn-Symons assumed the command of a small force, consisting of 18th
Hussars, 13th, 67th, and 69th Batteries R.F.A., 1st Leicestershire
Regiment, 1st King's Royal Rifles, and 2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers.
Each infantry battalion had a mounted infantry company. The brigade
was reinforced on October 16th by the 1st Royal Irish Fusiliers.
[Footnote 1: It was at Ladysmith that the battalion adopted
the green tops on the helmets, a distinguishing badge which
was worn throughout the war. The 1st Battalion painted theirs
blue on account of the historic nickname, 'Blue-caps,'
acquired by them at the time of the Mutiny.]
The country was still nominally at peace, but the Dundee force held
itself ready for emergencies, and sent out mounted patrols by day and
infantry piquets by night, while the important railway junction at
Glencoe was held by a company. The General utilised this period of
waiting in carrying out field-firing and practising various forms of
attack. As he was a practical and experienced soldier, he succeeded in
bringing his command to a high state of efficiency, and the battalion
owed much to his careful preparation. It was due largely to his
teaching that the men knew how to advance from cover to cover and
displayed such ready 'initiative' in the various battles of the Natal
Campaign. The opportunity of putting into practice this teaching soon
presented itself, for on October 12th news was received that the South
African Republics had declared war on the previous day.
Consideration of the advisability of pushing forward a small force to
Dundee, and of the reasons for such a movement, does not fall within
the scope of this work; but a glance at the map will show that Sir W.
Penn-Symons had a wide front to watch, since he could be attacked from
three sides. Although precise information regarding the Boer forces
was lacking, it was known that commandoes were assembling at
Volksrust, along the left bank of the Buffalo River, and on the far
side of Van Reenan's Pass.
Early in the morning of October 13th a telegram was received from Sir
G. White, asking General Penn-Symons to send a battalion to Ladysmith
at once, as the Boers were reported to be advancing on that town. The
General paid the 2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers the compliment of
selecting them for this duty, and they entrained accordingly, about
4.30 a.m., reaching Ladysmith some four hours later. They detrained
with the utmost haste and marched at once towards Dewdrop, whither the
Ladysmith garrison had been sent; but the report of a Boer advance was
discovered to be without foundation, and the battalion was halted five
miles outside Ladysmith, and ordered to return. It did not reach the
camp at Dundee until 11 p.m.
On the following day Sir W. Penn-Symons moved his detachment closer to
the town of Dundee, and placed his camp three or four hundred yards
north of the road to Glencoe Junction. It soon became clear that the
Boers meant to invade Natal, and Newcastle was occupied by them on the
15th, while the mounted patrols of the Dundee force were already in
touch with the commandoes on the left bank of the Buffalo. The
detached company at Glencoe was withdrawn on the 18th, and on the 19th
three companies of the regiment, under Major English, were sent to the
Navigation Colliery in order to bring away large quantities of mealie
bags stored there.
Colonel Cooper, commanding the 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers,
had been given an extension of his command, and was hurrying back from
a short period of leave in England, so the battalion was at this time
under the command of Major S. G. Bird.
It was now evident to every one that we were on the eve of
hostilities, and a spirit of keen excitement and anticipation ran
through all ranks. After a long tour of foreign service, during which
the regiment had not had the good fortune to see active service,
though on three occasions they had been within measurable distance of
it, they were now to have the long-wished-for chance of showing that,
in spite of altered denominations and other changes, they were
prepared to keep their gallant and historical reputation untarnished.
Our advanced patrols had already seen the first signs of the coming
torrent of invasion, and one and all were seized with that feeling,
common to all mankind, of longing to get the waiting and the
preparation over, and to commence the real business for which they had
been so carefully and so thoroughly prepared. Full of the most
implicit confidence in their brave leader, the regiment knew to a man
that they would soon be at hand-grips, and their two years' residence
in the country and knowledge of the history of the last Boer War, and
the stain to be rubbed out, made every pulse tingle with the desire to
show that the past had been but an unfortunate blunder, and that the
British soldier of the present day was no whit inferior to his
predecessors of Indian, Peninsular, Waterloo, and Crimean fame.
On the night of the 19-20th October, Lieutenant Grimshaw was sent with
a patrol of the Mounted Infantry company of the battalion to watch the
road to Vant's and Landsman's Drifts, ten miles east of Dundee. About
2 a.m. on October 20th this officer reported that a Boer commando was
advancing on the town. At a later hour he forwarded a second message
to the effect that he was retiring before superior numbers, one man of
his party having been wounded, and that the enemy were in occupation
| 3,157.971277 |
2023-11-16 19:09:42.1256940 | 2,794 | 13 |
Produced by David Widger
THE GREAT AMERICAN FRAUD
By Samuel Hopkins Adams
A Series of Articles on the Patent Medicine Evil, Reprinted from
Collier's Weekly
I-----The Great American Fraud 3
II----Peruna and the Bracers 12
III---Liquozone 23
IV----The Subtle Poisons 32
V-----Preying on the Incurables 45
VI----The Fundamental Fakes 57
ALSO
THE PATENT MEDICINE CONSPIRACY AGAINST THE FREEDOM OF THE PRESS
I. THE GREAT AMERICAN FRAUD.
Reprinted from Collier's Weekly, Oct. 7, 1905. {003}
This is the introductory article to a series which will contain a full
explanation and exposure of patent-medicine methods, and the harm done
to the public by this industry, founded mainly on fraud and poison.
Results of the publicity given to these methods can already be seen
in the steps recently taken by the National Government, some State
Governments and a few of the more reputable newspapers. The object
of the series is to make the situation so familiar and thoroughly
understood that there will be a speedy end to the worst aspects of the
evil.
[IMAGE ==>] {003}
Gullible America will spend this year some seventy-five millions of
dollars in the purchase of patent medicines. In consideration of this
sum it will swallow huge quantities of alcohol, an appalling amount of
opiates and narcotics, a wide assortment of varied drugs ranging from
powerful and dangerous heart depressants to insidious liver stimulants;
and, far in excess of all other ingredients, undiluted fraud. For fraud,
exploited by the skillfulest of advertising bunco men, is the basis of
the trade. Should the newspapers, the magazines and the medical journals
refuse their pages to this class of advertisements, the patent-medicine
business in five years would be as scandalously historic as the South
Sea Bubble, and the nation would be the richer not only in lives and
money, but in drunkards and drug-fiends saved.
"Don't make the mistake of lumping all proprietary medicines in one
indiscriminate denunciation," came warning from all sides when this
series was announced. But the honest attempt to separate the sheep from
the goats develops a lamentable lack of qualified candidates for the
sheepfold. External remedies there may be which are at once honest in
their claims and effective for their purposes; they are not to be found
among the much-advertised ointments or applications which fill the
public prints.
Cuticura may be a useful preparation, but in extravagance of advertising
it rivals the most clamorous cure-all. Pond's Extract, one would
naturally suppose, could afford to restrict itself to decent methods,
but in the recent {004}epidemic scare in New York it traded on the
public alarm by putting forth "display" advertisements headed, in heavy
black type, "Meningitis," a disease in which witch-hazel is about as
effective as molasses. This is fairly comparable to Peruna's ghoulish
exploitation, for profit, of the yellow-fever scourge in New Orleans,
aided by various southern newspapers of standing, which published as
_news_ an "interview" with Dr. Hartman, president of the Peruna Company.
Drugs That Make Victims.
When one comes to the internal remedies, the proprietary medicines
proper, they all belong to the tribe of Capricorn, under one of two
heads, harmless frauds or deleterious drugs. For instance, the laxatives
perform what they promise; if taken regularly, as thousands of people
take them (and, indeed, as the advertisements urge), they become an
increasingly baneful necessity. Acetanilid will undoubtedly relieve
headache of certain kinds; but acetanilid, as the basis of headache
powders, is prone to remove the cause of the symptoms permanently by
putting a complete stop to the heart action. Invariably, when taken
steadily, it produces constitutional disturbances of insidious
development which result fatally if the drug be not discontinued, and
often it enslaves the devotee to its use. Cocain and opium stop pain;
but the narcotics are not the safest drugs to put into the hands of the
ignorant, particularly when their presence is concealed in the "cough
remedies," "soothing syrups," and "catarrhal powders" of which they are
the basis. Few outside of the rabid temperance advocates will deny a
place in medical practice to alcohol. But alcohol, fed daily and in
increasing doses to women and children, makes not for health, but for
drunkenness. Far better whiskey or gin unequivocally labeled than the
alcohol-laden "bitters," "sarsaparillas" and "tonics" which exhilerate
fatuous temperance advocates to the point of enthusiastic testimonials.
None of these "cures" really does cure any serious affection, although
a majority of their users recover. But a majority, and a very large
majority, of the sick recover, anyway. Were it not so--were one illness
out of fifty fatal--this earth would soon be depopulated.
As to Testimonials.
The ignorant drug-taker, returning to health from some disease which he
has overcome by the natural resistant powers of his body, dips his pen
in gratitude and writes his testimonial. The man who dies in spite of
the patent medicine--or perhaps because of it--doesn't bear witness to
what it did for him. We see recorded only the favorable results: the
unfavorable lie silent. How could it be otherwise when the only avenues
of publicity are controlled by the advertisers? So, while many of the
printed testimonials are genuine enough, they represent not the average
evidence, but the most glowing opinions which the nostrum vender
can obtain, and generally they are the expression of a low order of
intelligence. Read in this light, they are unconvincing enough. But the
innocent public regards them as the type, not the exception. "If that
cured Mrs. Smith of Oshgosh it may cure me," says the woman whose
symptoms, real or imaginary, are so feelingly described under the
picture. Lend ear to expert testimony from a certain prominent cure-all:
"They see my advertising. They read the testimonials. They are
convinced. They have faith in Peruna. It gives them a gentle stimulant
and so they get well."
There it is in a nutshell; the faith cure. Not the stimulant, but the
faith inspired by the advertisement and encouraged by the stimulant
does the work--or seems to do it. If the public drugger can convince his
patron {005}that she is well, she _is_ well--for his purposes. In the
case of such diseases as naturally tend to cure themselves, no greater
harm is done than the parting of a fool and his money. With rheumatism,
sciatica and that ilk, it means added pangs; with consumption, Bright's
disease and other serious disorders, perhaps needless death. No onus of
homicide is borne by the nostrum seller; probably the patient would have
died anyway; there is no proof that the patent bottle was in any way
responsible. Even if there were--and rare cases do occur where the
responsibility can be brought home--there is no warning to others,
because the newspapers are too considerate of their advertisers to
publish such injurious items.
The Magic "Red Clause."
With a few honorable exceptions the press of the United States is at the
beck and call of the patent medicines. Not only do the newspapers modify
news possibly affecting these interests, but they sometimes become their
active agents. F. J. Cheney, proprietor of Hall's Catarrh Cure, devised
some years ago a method of making the press do his fighting against
legislation compelling makers of remedies to publish their formulae, or
to print on the labels the dangerous drugs contained in the medicine--a
constantly recurring bugaboo of the nostrum-dealer. This scheme he
unfolded at a meeting of the Proprietary Association of America, of
which he is now president. He explained that he printed in red letters
on every advertising contract a clause providing that the contract
should become void in the event of hostile legislation, and he boasted
how he had used this as a club in a case where an Illinois legislator
had, as he put it, attempted to hold him for three hundred dollars on a
strike bill.
"I thought I had a better plan than this," said Mr. Cheney to his
associates, "so I wrote to about forty papers and merely said: 'Please
look at your contract with me and take note that if this law passes you
and I must stop doing business,' The next week every one of them had an
article and Mr. Man had to go."
So emphatically did this device recommend itself to the assemblage that
many of the large firms took up the plan, and now the "red clause" is a
familiar device in the trade. The reproduction printed on page 6 {p006}
is a fac-simile of a contract between Mr. Cheney's firm and the Emporia
_Gazette_, William Allen White's paper, which has since become one
of the newspapers to abjure the patent-medicine man and all his ways.
Emboldened by this easy coercion of the press, certain firms have since
used the newspapers as a weapon against "price-cutting," by forcing
them to refuse advertising of the stores which reduce rates on patent
medicines. Tyrannical masters, these heavy purchasers of advertising
space.
To what length daily journalism will go at the instance of the business
office was shown in the great advertising campaign of Paine's Celery
Compound, some years ago. The nostrum's agent called at the office of a
prominent Chicago newspaper and spread before its advertising manager a
full-page advertisement, with blank spaces in the center.
"We want some good, strong testimonials to fill out with," he said.
"You can get all of those you want, can't you?" asked the newspaper
manager.
"Can _you?_" returned the other. "Show me four or five strong ones from
local politicians and you get the ad."
Fake Testimonials.
That day reporters were assigned to secure testimonials with photographs
which subsequently appeared in the full-page advertisement as
promised. As for the men who permitted the use of their names for this
{006}purpose, several of them afterward admitted that they had
never tasted the "Compound," but that they were willing to sign the
testimonials for the joy of appearing in print as "prominent citizens."
Another Chicago newspaper compelled its political editor to tout for
fake indorsements of a nostrum. A man with an inside knowledge of the
patent-medicine business made some investigations into this phase of the
matter, and he declares that such procurement of testimonials became so
established as to have the force of a system, only two Chicago papers
being free from it.
[IMAGE ==>] {006}
To-day, he adds, a similar "deal" could be made with half a dozen of
that city's dailies. It is disheartening to note that in the case of
one important and high-class daily, the Pittsburg _Gazette_, a trial
rejection of all patent-medicine advertising received absolutely no
support or encouragement from the public; so the paper reverted to its
old policy.
[IMAGE ==>] {007} A WINDOW EXHIBIT IN A CHICAGO DRUG STORE.
{008} The control is as complete, though exercised by a class of
nostrums somewhat differently exploited, but essentially the same.
Only "ethical" preparations are permitted in the representative medical
press, that is, articles not advertised in the lay press. Yet this
distinction is not strictly adhered to. "Syrup of Figs," for instance,
which makes widespread pretense in the dailies to be an extract of the
fig, advertises in the medical journals for what it is, a preparation
of senna. Antikamnia, an "ethical" proprietary compound, for a long
time exploited itself to the profession by a campaign of ridiculous
extravagance, and is to-day by the extent of its reckless _use_ on the
part of ignorant laymen a public menace. Recently an article announcing
a startling new drug discovery and signed by a physician was offered to
a standard medical journal, which declined it on learning that the drug
was a proprietary preparation. The contribution was returned to the
editor with an offer of payment at advertising rates if it were printed
as editorial reading matter, only to be rejected on the new basis.
Subsequently it appeared simultaneously in more than twenty medical
publications as reading matter. There are to-day very few | 3,158.145734 |
2023-11-16 19:09:42.1291630 | 3,336 | 11 |
E-text prepared by Clarity, Cindy Beyer, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(https://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/pestshore00shoriala
THE PEST
by
W. TEIGNMOUTH SHORE
Author of “The Talking Master,” “Egomet,” etc., and
Part Author of “The Fruit of the Tree”
[Illustration]
New York
C. H. Doscher & Co.
1909
Copyright, 1909, by
C. H. Doscher & Co.
The Pest
CHAPTER I
PAVEMENTS and roadway slippery with greasy, black mud; atmosphere yellow
with evil-tasting vapor; a November afternoon in London; evening drawing
on, fog closing down.
George Maddison, tall, erect, dark, walked slowly along, his eyes, ever
ready to seize upon any striking effect of color, noting the curious
mingling of lights: the dull yellow overhead, the chilly beams of the
street lamps, the glow and warmth from the shop windows. Few of the
faces he saw were cheerful, almost all wearing that expression of
discontent which such dreary circumstances bring to even the most
hardened and experienced Cockneys. For his own part he was well pleased,
having heard that morning of his election as an Associate of the Royal
Academy, a fact that gratified him not as adding anything to his repute,
but as being a compliment to the school of young painters of which he
was the acknowledged leader and ornament: impressionists whose
impressions showed the world to be beautiful; idealists who had the
imagination to see that the ideal is but the better part of the real.
Maddison paused before a highly lighted picture-dealer’s window,
glancing with amusement at the conventional prettiness there displayed;
then, turning his back upon it, he looked across the street, debating
whether he should cross over and have some tea at the famous pastry
cook’s. A tall, slight figure of a woman, neatly dressed in black,
caught his attention. Obviously, she too was hesitating over the same
question. In spite of the simplicity and quiet fashion of her black
gown, her air was elegant; her head nicely poised; her shoulders well
held; the lines of her figure graceful, lithe and seductive. Though he
could not see her face he felt certain that she was interesting and
attractive, if not beautiful; also, there was a something wistful and
forlorn about her that appealed to him. Warily stepping through the
slippery mud, he crossed over and stood behind her for a moment, marking
the graceful tendrils of red-gold hair that clustered round the nape of
her neck and the delicate shape and coloring of her ears. As she turned
to move away, she came full face to him, instant recognition springing
into her eyes.
“George—!” she exclaimed.
“Miss Lewis!”
There was immediate and evident constraint on each side, as though the
sudden meeting were half-welcome, half-embarrassing.
“Were you going in to tea here?” he asked. “I was. Let me come with you?
It’s an age since we met. It’s horrid and damp out here.”
“It is,” she replied, slightly shivering. “Yes, I should like a cup of
tea.”
They went through the heavy swing doors, opened for them by a diminutive
boy in buttons, into the long, highly decorated, dimly lighted, discreet
tea room, which lacked its usual crowd. A few couples, in one case two
young men, occupied the cozy corners, to one of the more remote of which
Maddison led the way, and settled himself and his companion in the
comfortable armchairs. He ordered tea and cakes of the pretty,
black-eyed waitress, dainty and demure in the uniform of deep, dull red.
“You sigh as if you were tired, Miss Lewis, and glad to rest?” he said,
trying in the dim light to study her expression.
“I am tired and I am glad to rest. It’s very cozy in here. I’ve never
been here before.”
She laid her hand upon the arm of the chair next to him and he noticed
that she wore a wedding ring.
“I called you Miss Lewis. I see——?”
“Yes—I’m married. I don’t suppose you remember much about Larchstone—I
recognized you before you did me; I saw you across the road. But just
possibly you do remember our curate, Mr. Squire—you used to laugh at
him. I’m Mrs. Squire. He’s still a curate, but not any longer in the
country. We live at Kennington; what a world of difference one letter
makes! Kennington—Kensington. Have you ever been in Kennington?”
Maddison remembered Edward Squire distinctly: a tall, gaunt enthusiast,
clumsy in mind and in body. He leaned back in his chair as a whirl of
recollections rushed across his mind: the red-roofed, old-fashioned
village of Larchstone; the old-world rector and his daughter, a pretty
slip of a country girl, who had grown into—Mrs. Squire. He remembered
the summer weeks he had spent there, painting in the famous woodlands,
and the half-jesting, half-serious love he had made to the rector’s
daughter. Since then until this afternoon he had not met her, though the
memory of her face, with the searching eyes, had come to him now and
again.
She watched him as he dreamed. He had changed very little; how
distinctly she had always remembered him; the swarthy, narrow face
framed in heavy black hair, the deep-set black eyes, the thin nose, the
trim pointed beard and mustache hiding the sensual mouth, the tall,
well-knit figure. Far more vividly than he did she recall those summer
months; in her life they had been an outstanding event, an episode
merely in his.
“Do you still take three lumps of sugar?” she asked, as she poured out
the tea.
“You remember that? Yes, still three, thanks.”
“You see, I hadn’t very much to remember in those days.”
“It’s five years ago—” he hesitated.
“Five this last summer, and a good many things have happened since then.
My father’s dead—three years ago—and I’m a good young curate’s wife.
And you? But I needn’t ask; the newspapers have told me all about you.
Are you still full of enthusiasms?”
“I suppose so. I think so, only they’re crystallizing into practices. As
we grow older the brain grows stiff, and we’re not so ready to go
climbing mountains to achieve impossible heights.”
“You’ve climbed pretty high. A step higher to-day—A.R.A. Fame, success
and money, that’s a fairly high mountain to have climbed—at least it
looks so to me.”
The forlorn tone of her voice confirmed the impression his first sight
of her had made upon him. He looked at her keenly as she sat there with
her eyes fixed upon her tea which she was stirring slowly. She had
become a very lovely woman and a poor curate’s wife.
“Lonely?” he asked almost unintentionally.
“Did I say lonely?” she asked looking quickly at him. “We were talking
in metaphors. I suppose that way of talking was invented by some one who
didn’t want to blurt out ugly truths.”
“Or who fancied that commonplace ideas become uncommon when divorced
from commonplace words.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it, sitting here, chatting like old friends—after
all this time? You didn’t answer my question: have you ever been in
Kennington?”
“I go down to the Oval now and then to watch the cricket; that’s all I
know about Kennington.”
“And that’s nothing. You might as well judge West Kensington by an
Earl’s Court exhibition, or a woman’s nature by her face. I think it
would do you good to see more of Kennington. I can believe that to
anyone who has lived there any other place on earth would seem heaven.”
“Heaven?”
“Even the other place would be an improvement.”
“You’re rather hard on Kennington, aren’t you?”
“It’s very hard on _me_! It stifles me. I come up to town—you see, I
speak of coming up to town—every now and then, just to escape from the
horrible atmosphere. There; just to breathe freely for a bit, to look at
the shops, to see faces with some thoughts in them, to escape
from—Kennington.”
“And do you escape?”
“Not altogether. The atmosphere there is saturating.”
“Does your husband like it?”
“He doesn’t know anything about it. Souls to save and bodies to feed,
that’s his simple want in life. There are plenty of both in our
neighborhood. I suppose you wouldn’t come down to see us?”
“If I may——?”
“You may,” she answered, laughing softly, almost to herself, and he
noticed how her smile lit up her whole face for the moment. “You’ll seem
so queer down there.”
“Why?”
“Just think—but no, you couldn’t realize what I’m laughing at; you’ve
never been in Kennington, and—even more likely—have never seen
yourself as I see you.”
Resisting the temptation to ask her in what light she saw him, he in
turn laughed as he looked down into the provocative face turned toward
him.
“You’re getting better,” he said.
“Yes, thanks; the tea has done me good, and the meeting with you.”
She spoke quite frankly.
“I’m glad,” he answered, “and glad I was lucky enough to meet you.”
“What a pretty, empty phrase,” she said, with a little sigh and a droop
of the corners of her mouth. “Sayings like that are the threepenny bits
of conversation; they’re not worth sixpence, but they’re better than
coppers. Now, I must be off.”
“It’s quite early.”
“Yes, for you. But for me—Kennington and high tea; but you know neither
of them.”
“You’ve asked me to come——”
“Not to high tea. Come some afternoon or evening. Drop me a post card so
that we shall be sure to be in. My husband will be so glad to see you
again.”
“And you?”
“I _have_ seen you again.”
“Very well, I’ll drop you a line of warning. And how are you going
home?”
“By a clever and cheap combination of penny bus and halfpenny tram. Now,
good-by, and thank you.”
They lingered a moment in the shop entrance, warmth and coziness behind,
the darkness and the thickening fog before.
“I don’t like you’re going alone. The fog’s getting very thick.”
“Please don’t worry about me; if the tram can’t get along I shall walk.
Good-by, and, again, thank you.”
Nodding in a friendly manner, she walked quickly away, leaving him
irresolute. But he soon determined to follow her.
“You really must let me see you home,” he said, as he caught up with
her; “it’s going to be bad.”
“So am I, and insist on having my own way. Don’t spoil it for me. I
don’t often have my own way with anything or anybody.”
Again she walked quickly away into the darkness.
CHAPTER II
ACACIA GROVE, Kennington, was once upon a time, and not so many years
ago, the home of snug citizens, who loved to dwell on the borderland of
town and country. It is a wide road of two-storied houses, all alike:
three windows to the top floor; on the ground floor, two windows and a
hall door, painted green and approached by three steep steps; a front
garden, generally laid out in gravel with a circular bed of sooty shrubs
in the center and a narrow border of straggling flowers along each side,
spike-headed railings separating the garden from the pavement. Few of
the gates are there that do not creak shrilly, calling aloud for oil. In
one of these houses, distinguished only from its neighbors by its
number, lodged the Reverend Edward Squire, occupying the front “parlor,”
a small den at the back of the same, and the front bedroom and dressing
room on the upper floor. The furniture throughout was plain,
inoffensive, somber, entirely unhomelike; faded green curtains with
yellow fringe hung at the parlor windows, by one of which Marian sat in
the gloaming two days after her meeting with Maddison. The fire shed a
flickering light over the room and on the weary face of her husband, who
lay back asleep in a heavy horsehair armchair. She glanced at him now
and then, each time comparing his commonplace features with those of
George Maddison, her meeting with whom had stirred tumult in her already
mutinous blood.
Rousing himself at length, Squire looked at his watch.
“Half-past four! I must be off, Marian. Don’t you find it dismal sitting
there in the dark?”
“You can dream in the dark.”
“Dream?” he said, standing up and stretching his lanky limbs, stamping
his heavy feet as though cold. “Don’t you dream too much, dear? I wish
parish work had more interest for you; there is so much to do, and——”
“I don’t do much!” she broke in sharply.
“I wasn’t going to say that. Wouldn’t it make life brighter for you if
you spent more time in brightening it for others? However, I mustn’t
stop to talk now. There’s a meeting of the Boot Club at a quarter to
five, and several things after that. I can’t get back till about
half-past six: will that be too late for tea?”
He stood beside her, feeling clumsily helpless to express his sympathy
with her evident discontent, and unable to help her.
“No, I don’t mind what time,” she answered, turning her back toward him,
and looking out at the dreary prospect of leafless trees and dim gas
lamps.
He stooped to kiss her, but she pushed him away.
“Don’t be silly, Edward; everyone can see into the room. If you don’t
go, you’ll be late.”
With a sigh he turned away and went out.
For months past hatred of her home life had been growing in her, and it
had been intensified, brought to fever heat, by her meeting with
Maddison. His prosperity had emphasized the dunness of her own career.
Why had he ever made love to her, giving her a glimpse of brightness,
and then left her to be driven by circumstances to accept her husband’s
dogged love, to accept this life of struggle, to accept this daily round
of distasteful tasks and hateful duties? In the country days she had
accepted without energy to protest against the routine work of a
clergyman’s daughter; but here in London, her blood had caught afire,
the devil of revolt was astir, her whole | 3,158.149203 |
2023-11-16 19:09:42.1767360 | 3,276 | 13 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Stephen Hutcheson, Joseph Cooper
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
BIRDS AND NATURE.
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.
Vol. IX. FEBRUARY, 1901. No. 2
CONTENTS.
FEBRUARY. 49
FROST-WORK. 49
THE HAWKS. 50
INTERESTING STONE HOUSES. 55
THE ALASKAN SPARROW. 56
THE DOWITCHER. (_Macrorhamphus griseus._) 59
All the beautiful stars of the sky 59
SOME THINGS WE MIGHT LEARN FROM THE LOWER ANIMALS. 60
THE GREAT-TAILED GRACKLE. (_Quiscalus macrourus._) 62
THE EAGLE. 62
THE GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF BIRDS. 65
THE HOODED WARBLER (_Sylvania mitrata._) 71
MRS. JANE'S EXPERIMENT. 72
A STROLL IN THE FROST KING'S REALM. 73
SNAILS OF THE FOREST AND FIELD. 74
THE GILA MONSTER. (_Heloderma suspectum._) 80
BIRD NOTES. 85
THE POMEGRANATE. (_Punica granatum._) 86
FISHES AND FISH-CULTURE AMONG THE GREEKS AND ROMANS. 89
CINNAMON. (_Cinnamomum cassia blume._) 95
AT DUSK. 96
FEBRUARY.
Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;
And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still;
No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill,
And willow stems grow daily red and bright.
These are the days when ancients held a rite
Of expiation for the old year's ill,
And prayer to purify the new year's will;
Fit days, ere yet the spring rains blur the sight,
Ere yet the bounding blood grows hot with haste,
And dreaming thoughts grow heavy with a greed
The ardent summer's joy to have and taste;
Fit days, to give to last year's losses heed,
To reckon clear the new life's sterner need;
Fit days, for Feast of Expiation placed!
--Helen Hunt Jackson.
FROST-WORK.
These winter nights, against my window-pane
Nature with busy pencil draws designs
Of ferns and blossoms and fine spray of pines,
Oak-leaf and acorn and fantastic vines,
Which she will make when summer comes again--
Quaint arabesques in argent, flat and cold,
Like curious Chinese etchings.... By and by,
Walking my leafy garden as of old,
These frosty fantasies shall charm my eye
In azure, damask, emerald, and gold.
--Thomas Bailey Aldrich.
THE HAWKS.
Among the birds that are most useful to man may be classed the Hawks.
They, with the vultures, the eagles and the owls, belong to the bird
order Raptores, or birds of prey. Unlike the vultures the Hawks feed
upon living prey while the former seek the dead or dying animal. The
vultures are often called "Nature's Scavengers," and in many localities
they have been so carefully protected that they will frequent the
streets of towns, seeking food in the gutters.
The family Falconidae, which includes the Hawks, the falcons, the
vultures, the kites, and the eagles--all diurnal birds of prey--numbers
about three hundred and fifty species, of which between forty and fifty
are found in North America. The remainder are distributed throughout the
world.
The flight of the Hawks is more than beautiful, it is majestic. Even
when perched high in the air on the top of a dead monarch of the forest,
there is a silent dignity in their pose. It is from these perches that
some of the species watch the surrounding country for their prey,
swooping down upon it when observed and seizing it in their long, sharp
and curved claws. Their food is almost invariably captured while on the
wing. The bill, which is short, hooked and with sinuate cutting edges,
is used for tearing the flesh of its victim into shreds.
Among our more common hawks there are but five or six that may
truthfully be classed among the birds that are injurious to the
interests of man. Among these, the Cooper's hawk and the sharp-shinned
hawk deserve the most attention, as they feed almost entirely upon other
birds and poultry. To these two the name chicken hawk may be aptly
applied. The domestic pigeon is a dainty morsel for these ravagers of
the barnyard. On the other hand, by far the larger number of the Hawks
are of great value to man. They are gluttonous whenever the food supply
is unlimited, and, as their powers of digestion are wonderfully
developed, it takes but a short time for the food to be absorbed and
they are then ready for more. With their keen eyesight they readily
detect the rodents and other small mammals that are so destructive to
crops and with a remarkable swiftness of flight they pounce upon them.
Dr. Fisher says, "Of the rapacious birds with which our country is so
well furnished, there are but few which deserve to be put on the black
list and pursued without mercy. The greater number either pass their
whole lives in the constant performance of acts of direct benefit to man
or else more than make good the harm they do in the destruction of
insectivorous birds and poultry by destroying a much greater number of
mammals well known to be hostile to the farmer."
Dr. Fisher obtained the following results from the examination of the
stomachs of two thousand, two hundred and twelve birds of prey. This
number does not include any of those that feed extensively upon game and
poultry. In three and one-half per centum the remains of poultry or game
birds were found; eleven per centum contained remains of other birds;
forty-two and one-half per centum contained the remains of mice; in
fourteen per centum other mammals were found and twenty-seven per centum
contained insect remains. This summary includes not only the Hawks but
also the owls, eagles and related birds. It is evident from these
results that man has a friend in these birds that is of inestimable
value to him.
[Illustration: ]
The use of falcons and Hawks in the chase dates far back in the history
of the Old World. For ages it was one of the principal sports of mankind
and especially of the nobility. Hawks may be trained to a high degree of
efficiency in the capturing of other birds. It is said that the Chinese
knew of this characteristic of the Hawks at least two thousand years
before the time of Christ. In Japan the art of falconry was practiced
about six or seven hundred years before Christ.
The art is also believed to be represented in a bas-relief found in the
Khorsahad ruins in which a falconer is apparently bearing a hawk on his
wrist. Thus these ancient ruins of Nineveh show that the art must have
been known at least seventeen hundred years before Christ.
That falconry was known to the ancient races of Africa is highly
probable, though there is but little in the earlier written history of
that continent regarding it. Egyptian carvings and drawings, however,
indicate without a doubt that the art was there known centuries ago.
Falconry is still practiced to some extent in Africa.
The art, though not obsolete in those countries of Europe where, in the
middle ages, it was regarded as the greatest and most noble of all
sports, is not national in its character. During the reign of William
the Conqueror laws were enacted in England which were most stringent
regarding falconry. At one time "falcons and hawks were allotted to
degrees and orders of men according to rank and station, to royalty the
jerfalcon, to an earl the peregrine, to a yeoman the goshawk, to a
priest the sparrow-hawk, and to a knave or servant the useless kestrel."
To train a hawk for this sport requires great skill and patience. The
temper, disposition and, in fact, every peculiarity of each individual
bird must be carefully studied. In these respects it may be said that no
two birds are exactly alike. Technically the name falcon, as used by the
falconer, is applied only to the female of the various species used in
the conducting of this sport.
The peregrine falcon or hawk is usually accepted as the type falcon of
falconry. The name peregrine, from the Latin peregrinus, means
wandering, and refers to the fact that this species is almost
cosmopolitan, though the geographical races are given varietal names.
The duck hawk (Falco peregrinus anatum) is one of the representatives in
America. "The food of this hawk consists almost exclusively of birds, of
which water-fowl and shore birds form the greater part."
The Hawks of our illustration are natives of North America ranging from
Mexico northward. The American Rough-legged Hawk (Archibuteo lagopus
sancti-johannis) is a geographical variety of a rough-legged form that
is found in northern Europe and Asia. It is also known by the names of
Black Rough-legged and Black Hawk.
This Hawk is one of the largest and most attractive of all the species
of North America. Dr. Fisher tells us that "it is mild and gentle in
disposition, and even when adult may be tamed in the course of a few
days so that it will take food from the hand and allow its head and back
to be stroked. When caged with other species of hawks, it does not as a
rule fight for the food, but waits until the others have finished,
before it begins to eat."
In spite of its large size and apparent strength it does not exhibit the
spirit that is so characteristic of the falcons. It preys almost
entirely on field mice and other rodents, frogs and probably, at times
and in certain localities, upon insects especially the grasshoppers. It
is said that they will feed upon lizards, snakes and toads. They do not
molest the poultry of the farmer or the game birds of the field, forest
or of our water courses, at least not to any extent. Their size and
their slow and heavy flight would nearly always give sufficient warning
to permit the ordinary fowls to seek cover.
No better evidence as to the character of its food can be furnished than
the results of the examination of forty-nine stomachs as related by Dr.
Fisher. Of these forty contained mice; five, other mammals; one,
lizards; one, the remains of seventy insects (this specimen was killed
in Nebraska); and four, were empty. It is interesting to note "that the
southern limit of its wanderings in winter is nearly coincident with the
southern boundary of the region inhabited by meadow mice."
Sir John Richardson says, "In the softness and fullness of its plumage,
its feathered legs and habits, this bird bears some resemblance to the
owls. It flies slowly, sits for a long time on the bough of a tree,
watching for mice, frogs, etc., and is often seen sailing over swampy
pieces of ground, and hunting for its prey by the subdued daylight,
which illuminates even the midnight hours in the high parallels of
latitude." Mr. Ridgway says, "for noble presence and piercing eye this
bird has few equals among our Falconidae."
The eggs of this species vary from two to five and are usually somewhat
blotched or irregularly marked with chocolate brown on a dull white
background.
The Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo borealis) of our illustration is young and
shows the plumage of the immature form.
This species may be called our winter hawk and for this reason the name
borealis is most appropriate. "The coldest days of January serve to give
this hawk a keener eye and a deeper zest for the chase." The best
locality to seek the Red-tail may be found at the wooded borders of
pastures and streams, where it can easily perceive and swoop down upon
its prey. It seldom visits a barnyard, but will occasionally catch a
fowl that has strayed away from the protection of buildings. Its food
consists to a great extent of meadow and other species of mice, rabbits
and other rodents. The remains of toads, frogs and snakes have also been
found in its stomach. One writer says, "The Red-tailed Hawk is a
powerful bird and I once saw one strike a full-grown muskrat, which it
tore to pieces and devoured the greater part."
Dr. Fisher gives an interesting summary of the examination of five
hundred and sixty-two stomachs. Fifty-four contained poultry or game
birds; fifty-one, other birds; two hundred and seventy-eight contained
mice; one hundred and thirty-one, other mammals; thirty-seven, frogs and
related animals or reptiles; forty-seven, insects; eight, crawfish; one,
centipedes; thirteen, offal, and eighty-nine were empty. This surely is
not a bad showing for this bird, so often maligned by being called "hen"
or "chicken-hawk." Its preferred food is evidently the smaller mammals,
and as it is common or even abundant it must be of great value to
agricultural interests. The younger birds are more apt to take poultry
because of "a lack of skill in procuring a sufficient quantity of the
more usual prey."
Mr. P. M. Silloway says, "None of the Hawks has suffered more undeserved
persecution than has the Red-tailed Buzzard or Hawk, whose
characteristics place it among the ignoble falcons, or hawks, of feudal
times. Lacking the swiftness and impetuosity of attack peculiar to the
true falcons, it depends on its ability to surprise its prey and drop
upon it when unable to escape."
During the summer months it retires to the forests to breed, where it
builds a large and bulky though shallow nest in trees, often at a height
of from fifty to seventy-five feet from the ground. The nest is
constructed of sticks and small twigs and lined with grass, moss,
feathers or other soft materials. The number of eggs is usually three,
though there may be two or four. They are a little over two inches | 3,158.196776 |
2023-11-16 19:09:42.2255630 | 258 | 24 | BOOKS***
Transcribed from the 1896 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
FAMILIAR STUDIES
OF
MEN AND BOOKS
BY
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
[Picture: Decorative graphic]
_ELEVENTH EDITION_
* * * * *
London
CHATTO & WINDUS, PICADILLY
1896
* * * * *
TO
THOMAS STEVENSON
CIVIL ENGINEER
BY WHOSE DEVICES THE GREAT SEA LIGHTS IN EVERY QUARTER
OF THE WORLD NOW SHINE MORE BRIGHTLY
THIS VOLUME IS IN LOVE AND GRATITUDE
DEDICATED BY HIS SON
THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
BY WAY OF CRITICISM.
THESE studies are collected from the monthly press. One appeared in the
_New Quarterly_, one in _Macmillan’s_, and the rest in the _Cornhill
Magazine_. To the _Cornhill_ I owe a double debt of thanks; first, that
I was received there in | 3,158.245603 |
2023-11-16 19:09:42.5113430 | 259 | 16 |
Produced by D Alexander, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
TALES
FROM
"BLACKWOOD"
Contents of this Volume
_The Glenmutchkin Railway. By Professor Aytoun_
_Vanderdecken's Message Home_
_The Floating Beacon_
_Colonna the Painter_
_Napoleon. By J. G. Lockhart_
_A Legend of Gibraltar. By Col. E. B. Hamley_
_The Iron Shroud. By William Mudford_
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
TALES FROM "BLACKWOOD."
HOW WE GOT UP THE GLENMUTCHKIN RAILWAY
AND HOW WE GOT OUT OF IT
BY PROFESSOR AYTOUN.
[_MAGA._ OCTOBER 1845.]
[The following Tale appeared in the Magazine for October 1845. It was
intended by the writer as a sketch of some of the more striking
features of the railway mania (then in full progress throughout Great
Britain), as exhibited in Glasgow and Edinburgh. Although bearing the
appearance of a burlesque, it was in truth an accurate delineation (as | 3,158.531383 |
2023-11-16 19:09:43.1132300 | 3,419 | 7 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Six Months at the Cape, Letters to his friend Periwinkle, by R.M.
Ballantyne.
________________________________________________________________________
Robert Michael Ballantyne was born in 1825 and died in 1894. He was
educated at the Edinburgh Academy, and in 1841 he became a clerk with
the Hudson Bay Company, working at the Red River Settlement in Northen
Canada until 1847, arriving back in Edinburgh in 1848. The letters he
had written home were very amusing in their description of backwoods
life, and his family publishing connections suggested that he should
construct a book based on these letters. Three of his most enduring
books were written over the next decade, "The Young Fur Traders",
"Ungava", "The Hudson Bay Company", and were based on his experiences
with the H.B.C. In this period he also wrote "The Coral island" and
"Martin Rattler", both of these taking place in places never visited by
Ballantyne. Having been chided for small mistakes he made in these
books, he resolved always to visit the places he wrote about. With
these books he became known as a great master of literature intended for
teenagers. He researched the Cornish Mines, the London Fire Brigade,
the Postal Service, the Railways, the laying down of submarine telegraph
cables, the construction of light-houses, the light-ship service, the
life-boat service, South Africa, Norway, the North Sea fishing fleet,
ballooning, deep-sea diving, Algiers, and many more, experiencing the
lives of the men and women in these settings by living with them for
weeks and months at a time, and he lived as they lived.
He was a very true-to-life author, depicting the often squalid scenes he
encountered with great care and attention to detail. His young readers
looked forward eagerly to his next books, and through the 1860s and
1870s there was a flow of books from his pen, sometimes four in a year,
all very good reading. The rate of production diminished in the last
ten or fifteen years of his life, but the quality never failed.
He published over ninety books under his own name, and a few books for
very young children under the pseudonym "Comus".
For today's taste his books are perhaps a little too religious, and what
we would nowadays call "pi". In part that was the way people wrote in
those days, but more important was the fact that in his days at the Red
River Settlement, in the wilds of Canada, he had been a little
dissolute, and he did not want his young readers to be unmindful of how
they ought to behave, as he felt he had been.
Some of his books were quite short, little over 100 pages. These books
formed a series intended for the children of poorer parents, having less
pocket-money. These books are particularly well-written and researched,
because he wanted that readership to get the very best possible for
their money. They were published as six series, three books in each
series. One of these series is "On the Coast", which includes "Saved by
the Lifeboat".
Re-created as an e-Text by Nick Hodson, October 1998, reviewed February
2003.
________________________________________________________________________
SIX MONTHS AT THE CAPE, LETTERS TO HIS FRIEND PERIWIMKLE, BY R.M.
BALLANTYNE.
LETTER ONE.
"A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE."
South Africa.
Dear Periwinkle,--Since that memorable, not to say miserable, day, when
you and I parted at Saint Katherine's Docks, [see note 1], with the rain
streaming from our respective noses--rendering tears superfluous, if not
impossible--and the noise of preparation for departure damaging the
fervour of our "farewell"--since that day, I have ploughed with my
"adventurous keel" upwards of six thousand miles of the "main," and now
write to you from the wild Karroo of Southern Africa.
The Karroo is not an animal. It is a spot--at present a lovely spot. I
am surrounded by--by nature and all her southern abundance. Mimosa
trees, prickly pears, and aloes remind me that I am not in England.
Ostriches, stalking on the plains, tell that I am in Africa. It is not
much above thirty years since the last lion was shot in this region,
[see note 2], and the kloofs, or gorges, of the blue mountains that
bound the horizon are, at the present hour, full of "Cape-tigers," wild
deer of different sorts, baboons, monkeys, and--but hold! I must not
forestall. Let me begin at the beginning.
The adventurous keel above referred to was not, as you know, my own
private property. I shared it with some two hundred or so of human
beings, and a large assortment of the lower animals. Its name was the
"Windsor Castle"--one of a magnificent line of ocean steamers belonging
to an enterprising British firm.
There is something appallingly disagreeable in leave-taking. I do not
refer now to the sentiment, but to the manner of it. Neither do I hint,
my dear fellow, at _your_ manner of leave-taking. Your abrupt "Well,
old boy, _bon voyage_, good-bye, bless you," followed by your prompt
retirement from the scene, was perfect in its way, and left nothing to
be desired; but leave-takings in general--how different!
Have you never stood on a railway platform to watch the starting of an
express?
Of course you have, and you have seen the moist faces of those two young
sisters, who had come to "see off" that dear old aunt, who had been more
than a mother to them since that day, long ago, when they were left
orphans, and who was leaving them for a few months, for the first time
for many years; and you have observed how, after kissing and weeping on
her for the fiftieth time, they were forcibly separated by the
exasperated guard; and the old lady was firmly, yet gently thrust into
her carriage, and the door savagely locked with one hand, while the
silver whistle was viciously clapt to the lips with the other, and the
last "goo-ood--bye--d-arling!" was drowned by a shriek, and puff and
clank, as the train rolled off.
You've seen it all, have you not, over and over again, in every degree
and modification? No doubt you have, and as it is with parting humanity
at railway stations, so is it at steamboat wharves.
There are differences, however. After you had left, I stood and
sympathised with those around me, and observed that there is usually
more emotion on a wharf than on a platform--naturally enough, as, in the
case of long sea voyages, partings, it may be presumed, are for longer
periods, and dangers are supposed to be greater and more numerous than
in land journeys,--though this is open to question. The waiting
process, too, is prolonged. Even after the warning bell had sent
non-voyagers ashore, they had to stand for a considerable time in the
rain while we cast off our moorings or went through some of those
incomprehensible processes by which a leviathan steamer is moved out of
dock.
After having made a first false move, which separated us about three
yards from the wharf--inducing the wearied friends on shore to brighten
up and smile, and kiss hands, and wave kerchiefs, with that energy of
decision which usually marks a really final farewell--our steamer
remained in that position for full half an hour, during which period we
gazed from the bulwarks, and our friends gazed from under their dripping
umbrellas across the now impassable gulf in mute resignation.
At that moment a great blessing befell us. A boy let his cap drop from
the wharf into the water! It was an insignificant matter in itself, but
it acted like the little safety-valve which prevents the bursting of a
high-pressure engine. Voyagers and friends no longer looked at each
other like melancholy imbeciles. A gleam of intense interest suffused
every visage, intelligence sparkled in every eye, as we turned and
concentrated our attention on that cap! The unexpressed blessing of the
whole company, ashore and afloat, descended on the uncovered head of
that boy, who, all unconscious of the great end he was fulfilling, made
frantic and futile efforts with a long piece of stick to recover his
lost property.
But we did at last get under weigh, and then there were some touches of
real pathos. I felt no disposition to note the humorous elements around
when I saw that overgrown lad of apparently eighteen summers, press to
the side and wave his thin hands in adieu to an elderly lady on shore,
while tears that he could not, and evidently did not care to restrain,
ran down his hollow cheeks. He had no friend on board, and was being
sent to the Cape for the benefit of his health. So, too, was another
young man--somewhere between twenty and thirty years--whose high colour,
brilliant eye, and feeble step told their own tale. But this man was
not friendless. His young wife was there, and supported him with tender
solicitude towards a seat. These two were in the after-cabin. Among
the steerage passengers the fell disease was represented in the person
of a little boy. "Too late" was written on the countenances of at least
two of these,--the married man and the little boy.
As to the healthy passengers, what shall I say of them? Need I tell you
that every species of humanity was represented?
There were tall men, and short men, as well as men broad and narrow,--
mentally, not less than physically. There were ladies pretty, and
ladies plain, as well as grave and gay. Fat and funny ones we had, also
lean ones and sad. The wise and foolish virgins were represented. So
too were smokers and drinkers; and not a few earnest, loving, and
lovable, men and women.
A tendency had been gaining on me of late to believe that, after passing
middle-life, a man cannot make new and enthusiastic friendships. Never
was I more mistaken. It is now my firm conviction that men may and do
make friendships of the closest kind up to the end of their career. Of
course the new friends do not, and cannot, take the place of the old.
It seems to me that they serve a higher purpose, and, by enabling one to
realise the difference between the old and the new, draw the cords of
ancient friendship tighter. At all events, you may depend upon it, my
dear Periwinkle, that no new friend shall ever tumble _you_ out of the
niche which you occupy in my bosom!
But be this as it may, it is a fact that in my berth--which held four,
and was full all the voyage--there was a tall, dark, powerful,
middle-aged man, an Englishman born in Cape Colony, [see note 3], who
had been "home" for a trip, and was on his way out again to his African
home on the great Karroo. This man raised within me feelings of disgust
when I first saw him in the dim light of our berth, because he was big,
and I knew that a big man requires more air to fill his lungs than a
little one, and there was no superabundant air in our berth--quite the
reverse. This man occupied the top berth opposite to mine. Each
morning as I awoke my eyes fell on his beard of iron-grey, and I gazed
at his placid countenance till he awoke--or I found his placid
countenance gazing at me when _I_ awoke. From gazing to nodding in
recognition is an easy step in ordinary circumstances, but not when
one's head is on one's pillow. We therefore passed at once, without the
ceremony of nodding, into a quiet "good morning." Although reticent, he
gradually added a smile to the "good morning," and I noticed that his
smile was a peculiarly pleasant one. Steps that succeed the "first" are
generally easy. From disliking this man--not on personal, but purely
selfish grounds--I came to like him; then to love him. I have reason to
believe that the attachment was mutual. His name--why should I not
state it? I don't think he would object--is Hobson.
In the bunk below Hobson lay a young Wesleyan minister. He was a
slender young fellow,--modest and thoughtful. If Hobson's bunk had
given way, I fear that his modesty and thoughtfulness might have been
put to a severe test. I looked down upon this young Wesleyan from my
materially exalted position, but before the voyage was over I learned to
look up to him from a spiritually low position. My impression is that
he was a "meek" man. I may be mistaken, but of this am I certain, that
he was one of the gentlest, and at the same time one of the most able
men in the ship.
But, to return to my berth--which, by the way, I was often loth to do,
owing to the confined air below, and the fresh glorious breezes on
deck--the man who slept under me was a young banker, a clerk, going out
to the Cape to make his fortune, and a fine capable-looking fellow he
was, inclined rather to be receptive than communicative. He frequently
bumped me with his head in getting up; I, not unfrequently, put a foot
upon his nose, or toes, in getting down.
What can I say about the sea that has not been said over and over again
in days of old? This, however, is worthy of record, that we passed the
famous Bay of Biscay in a dead-calm. We did not "lay" one single "day"
on that "Bay of Biscay, O!" The "O!" seems rather awkwardly to imply
that I am not stating the exact truth, but I assure you that it is a
fact. More than this, we had not a storm all the way to the Cape. It
was a pure pleasure excursion--a sort of yacht voyage--from beginning to
end; very pleasant at the time, and delightful now to dwell upon; for,
besides the satisfaction of making a new friend like Hobson, there were
others to whom I was powerfully drawn, both by natural sympathy and
intellectual bias.
There was a Wesleyan minister, also an Englishman, born in South Africa,
and of the race of Anak, with whom, and his amiable wife, and pretty
children, I fraternised ardently. My soul was also gladdened by
intercourse with a clergyman of the Dutch-Reformed Church, well-known in
the Cape, and especially in the Transva | 3,159.13327 |
2023-11-16 19:09:43.2433000 | 272 | 11 |
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)
THE INQUISITION OF SPAIN
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
_A HISTORY OF THE INQUISITION OF THE MIDDLE AGES._ In three
volumes, octavo.
_THE INQUISITION IN THE SPANISH DEPENDENCIES._ In one volume,
octavo. (_Shortly._)
_A HISTORY OF AURICULAR CONFESSION AND INDULGENCES IN THE LATIN
CHURCH._ In three volumes, octavo.
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF SACERDOTAL CELIBACY IN THE CHRISTIAN
CHURCH. Third edition. (_In preparation._)
_A FORMULARY OF THE PAPAL PENITENTIARY IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY._
One volume, octavo. (_Out of print._)
_SUPERSTITION AND FORCE._ Essays on The Wager of Law, The Wager of
Battle, The Ordeal, Torture. Fourth edition, revised. In one
volume, 12mo.
_STUDIES IN CHURCH | 3,159.26334 |
2023-11-16 19:09:43.4491150 | 260 | 79 |
Produced by Nick Wall and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
DEPARTMENT OF EXTERNAL AFFAIRS, MELBOURNE.
AUSTRALIA: _The_ Dairy Country
Dairy Farmers are specially invited and assisted to come to
Australia because it is considered that in a progressive young
Country with so much Territory adapted for Dairying such Settlers
will advance the interest of the Country and of themselves.
PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MINISTER OF STATE FOR EXTERNAL
AFFAIRS, MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA.... 1915.
By Authority: McCARRON, BIRD & CO., Printers. 479 Collins Street,
Melbourne.
[Illustration: Note the Shedding is of very light description.]
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Bacon-Curing 48
Bee Farming 21
Breeds of Cattle in Use 33
Butter Exported 11
Cheese-making 47
Clearing Land | 3,159.469155 |
2023-11-16 19:09:43.8255090 | 725 | 12 |
Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
MRS WARREN'S PROFESSION
by George Bernard Shaw
1894
With The Author's Apology (1902)
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
Mrs Warren's Profession has been performed at last, after a delay of
only eight years; and I have once more shared with Ibsen the triumphant
amusement of startling all but the strongest-headed of the London
theatre critics clean out of the practice of their profession. No
author who has ever known the exultation of sending the Press into an
hysterical tumult of protest, of moral panic, of involuntary and frantic
confession of sin, of a horror of conscience in which the power of
distinguishing between the work of art on the stage and the real life
of the spectator is confused and overwhelmed, will ever care for the
stereotyped compliments which every successful farce or melodrama
elicits from the newspapers. Give me that critic who rushed from my play
to declare furiously that Sir George Crofts ought to be kicked. What a
triumph for the actor, thus to reduce a jaded London journalist to
the condition of the simple sailor in the Wapping gallery, who shouts
execrations at Iago and warnings to Othello not to believe him! But
dearer still than such simplicity is that sense of the sudden earthquake
shock to the foundations of morality which sends a pallid crowd of
critics into the street shrieking that the pillars of society are
cracking and the ruin of the State is at hand. Even the Ibsen champions
of ten years ago remonstrate with me just as the veterans of those brave
days remonstrated with them. Mr Grein, the hardy iconoclast who first
launched my plays on the stage alongside Ghosts and The Wild Duck,
exclaimed that I have shattered his ideals. Actually his ideals! What
would Dr Relling say? And Mr William Archer himself disowns me because I
"cannot touch pitch without wallowing in it". Truly my play must be more
needed than I knew; and yet I thought I knew how little the others know.
Do not suppose, however, that the consternation of the Press reflects
any consternation among the general public. Anybody can upset the
theatre critics, in a turn of the wrist, by substituting for the
romantic commonplaces of the stage the moral commonplaces of the pulpit,
platform, or the library. Play Mrs Warren's Profession to an audience
of clerical members of the Christian Social Union and of women well
experienced in Rescue, Temperance, and Girls' Club work, and no moral
panic will arise; every man and woman present will know that as long
as poverty makes virtue hideous and the spare pocket-money of rich
bachelordom makes vice dazzling, their daily hand-to-hand fight against
prostitution with prayer and persuasion, shelters and scanty alms,
will be a losing one. There was a time when they were able to urge that
though "the white-lead factory where Anne Jane was poisoned" may be a
far more terrible place than Mrs Warren's house, yet hell is still more
dreadful. Nowadays they no longer believe in hell; and the girls among
whom they are working know that they do not believe in it, and would
laugh at them if they | 3,159.845549 |
2023-11-16 19:09:43.9265400 | 5,140 | 9 |
Produced by D.R. Thompson
HISTORY OF FRIEDRICH II. OF PRUSSIA
FREDERICK THE GREAT
By Thomas Carlyle
BOOK XXI.--AFTERNOON AND EVENING OF FRIEDRICH'S LIFE--1763-1786.
Chapter I.--PREFATORY.
The Twelve Hercules-labors of this King have ended here; what was
required of him in World-History is accomplished. There remain to
Friedrich Twenty-three Years more of Life, which to Prussian History are
as full of importance as ever; but do not essentially concern European
History, Europe having gone the road we now see it in. On the grand
World-Theatre the curtain has fallen for a New Act; Friedrich's part,
like everybody's for the present, is played out. In fact, there is,
during the rest of his Reign, nothing of World-History to be dwelt on
anywhere. America, it has been decided, shall be English; Prussia be a
Nation. The French, as finis of their attempt to cut Germany in Four,
find themselves sunk into torpor, abeyance and dry-rot; fermenting
towards they know not what. Towards Spontaneous Combustion in the year
1789, and for long years onwards!
There, readers, there is the next milestone for you, in the History of
Mankind! That universal Burning-up, as in hell-fire, of Human Shams. The
oath of Twenty-five Million men, which has since become that of all men
whatsoever, "Rather than live longer under lies, we will die!"--that
is the New Act in World-History. New Act,--or, we may call it New PART;
Drama of World-History, Part Third. If Part SECOND was 1,800 years ago,
this I reckon will be Part THIRD. This is the truly celestial-infernal
Event: the strangest we have seen for a thousand years. Celestial in
one part; in the other, infernal. For it is withal the breaking out
of universal mankind into Anarchy, into the faith and practice
of NO-Government,--that is to say (if you will be candid), into
unappeasable Revolt against Sham-Governors and Sham-Teachers,--which
I do charitably define to be a Search, most unconscious, yet in deadly
earnest, for true Governors and Teachers. That is the one fact of
World-History worth dwelling on at this day; and Friedrich cannot be
said to have had much hand farther in that.
Nor is the progress of a French or European world, all silently ripening
and rotting towards such issue, a thing one wishes to dwell on. Only
when the Spontaneous Combustion breaks out; and, many-, with loud
noises, envelops the whole world in anarchic flame for long hundreds of
years: then has the Event come; there is the thing for all men to
mark, and to study and scrutinize as the strangest thing they ever saw.
Centuries of it yet lying ahead of us; several sad Centuries, sordidly
tumultuous, and good for little! Say Two Centuries yet,--say even Ten of
such a process: before the Old is completely burnt out, and the New in
any state of sightliness? Millennium of Anarchies;--abridge it, spend
your heart's-blood upon abridging it, ye Heroic Wise that are to
come! For it is the consummation of All the Anarchies that are and
were;--which I do trust always means the death (temporary death) of
them! Death of the Anarchies: or a world once more built wholly on Fact
better or worse; and the lying jargoning professor of Sham-Fact, whose
name is Legion, who as yet (oftenest little conscious of himself) goes
tumulting and swarming from shore to shore, become a species extinct,
and well known to be gone down to Tophet!--
There were bits of Anarchies before, little and greater: but till that
of France in 1789, there was none long memorable; all were pygmies in
comparison, and not worth mentioning separately. In 1772 the Anarchy of
Poland, which had been a considerable Anarchy for about three
hundred years, got itself extinguished,--what we may call
extinguished;--decisive surgery being then first exercised upon it: an
Anarchy put in the sure way of extinction. In 1775, again, there began,
over seas, another Anarchy much more considerable,--little dreaming that
IT could be called an Anarchy; on the contrary, calling itself Liberty,
Rights of Man; and singing boundless Io-Paeans to itself, as is common
in such cases; an Anarchy which has been challenging the Universe
to show the like ever since. And which has, at last, flamed up as an
independent Phenomenon, unexampled in the hideously SUICIDAL way;--and
does need much to get burnt out, that matters may begin anew on truer
conditions. But neither the PARTITION OF POLAND nor the AMERICAN WAR OF
INDEPENDENCE have much general importance, or, except as precursors
of 1789, are worth dwelling on in History. From us here, so far as
Friedrich is concerned with them, they may deserve some transient
mention, more or less: but World-History, eager to be at the general
Funeral-pile and ultimate Burning-up of Shams in this poor World, will
have less and less to say of small tragedies and premonitory symptoms.
Curious how the busy and continually watchful and speculating Friedrich,
busied about his dangers from Austrian encroachments, from Russian-Turk
Wars, Bavarian Successions, and other troubles and anarchies close
by, saw nothing to dread in France; nothing to remark there, except
carelessly, from time to time, its beggarly decaying condition, so
strangely sunk in arts, in arms, in finance; oftenest an object of pity
to him, for he still has a love for France;--and reads not the least
sign of that immeasurable, all-engulfing FRENCH REVOLUTION which was in
the wind! Neither Voltaire nor he have the least anticipation of such a
thing. Voltaire and he see, to their contentment, Superstition
visibly declining: Friedrich rather disapproves the heat of Voltaire's
procedures on the INFAME. "Why be in such heat? Other nonsense, quite
equal to it, will be almost sure to follow. Take care of your own skin!"
Voltaire and he are deeply alive, especially Voltaire is, to the
horrors and miseries which have issued on mankind from a Fanatic Popish
Superstition, or Creed of Incredibilities,--which (except from the
throat outwards, from the bewildered tongue outwards) the orthodox
themselves cannot believe, but only pretend and struggle to believe.
This Voltaire calls "THE INFAMOUS;" and this--what name can any of us
give it? The man who believes in falsities is very miserable. The man
who cannot believe them, but only struggles and pretends to believe;
and yet, being armed with the power of the sword, industriously keeps
menacing and slashing all round, to compel every neighbor to do like
him: what is to be done with such a man? Human Nature calls him a Social
Nuisance; needing to be handcuffed, gagged and abated. Human Nature, if
it be in a terrified and imperilled state, with the sword of this fellow
swashing round it, calls him "Infamous," and a Monster of Chaos. He
is indeed the select Monster of that region; the Patriarch of all the
Monsters, little as he dreams of being such. An Angel of Heaven the poor
caitiff dreams himself rather, and in cheery moments is conscious of
being:--Bedlam holds in it no madder article. And I often think he will
again need to be tied up (feeble as he now is in comparison, disinclined
though men are to manacling and tying); so many helpless infirm souls
are wandering about, not knowing their right hand from their left, who
fall a prey to him. "L'INFAME" I also name him,--knowing well enough how
little he, in his poor muddled, drugged and stupefied mind, is conscious
of deserving that name. More signal enemy to God, and friend of the
Other Party, walks not the Earth in our day.
Anarchy in the shape of religious slavery was what Voltaire and
Friedrich saw all round them. Anarchy in the shape of Revolt against
Authorities was what Friedrich and Voltaire had never dreamed of as
possible, and had not in their minds the least idea of. In one, or
perhaps two places you may find in Voltaire a grim and rather glad
forethought, not given out as prophecy, but felt as interior assurance
in a moment of hope, How these Priestly Sham Hierarchies will be pulled
to pieces, probably on the sudden, once people are awake to them. Yes,
my much-suffering M. de Voltaire, be pulled to pieces; or go aloft,
like the awakening of Vesuvius, one day,--Vesuvius awakening after
ten centuries of slumber, when his crater is all grown grassy, bushy,
copiously "tenanted by wolves" I am told; which, after premonitory
grumblings, heeded by no wolf or bush, he will hurl bodily aloft, ten
acres at a time, in a very tremendous manner! [First modern Eruption of
Vesuvius, A.D. 1631, after long interval of rest.] A thought like this,
about the Priestly Sham-Hierarchies, I have found somewhere in Voltaire:
but of the Social and Civic Sham-Hierarchies (which are likewise
accursed, if they knew it, and indeed are junior co-partners of the
Priestly; and, in a sense, sons and products of them, and cannot escape
being partakers of their plagues), there is no hint, in Voltaire, though
Voltaire stood at last only fifteen years from the Fact (1778-1793); nor
in Friedrich, though he lived almost to see the Fact beginning.
Friedrich's History being henceforth that of a Prussian King, is
interesting to Prussia chiefly, and to us little otherwise than as the
Biography of a distinguished fellow-man, Friedrich's Biography, his
Physiognomy as he grows old, quietly on his own harvest-field, among his
own People: this has still an interest, and for any feature of this we
shall be eager enough; but this withal is the most of what we now want.
And not very much even of this; Friedrich the unique King not having
as a man any such depth and singularity, tragic, humorous, devotionally
pious, or other, as to authorize much painting in that aspect. Extreme
brevity beseems us in these circumstances: and indeed there are,--as has
already happened in different parts of this Enterprise (Nature
herself, in her silent way, being always something of an Artist in such
things),--other circumstances, which leave us no choice as to that of
detail. Available details, if we wished to give them, of Friedrich's
later Life, are not forthcoming: masses of incondite marine-stores,
tumbled out on you, dry rubbish shot with uncommon diligence for a
hundred years, till, for Rubbish-Pelion piled on Rubbish-Ossa, you lose
sight of the stars and azimuths; whole mountain continents, seemingly
all of cinders and sweepings (though fragments and remnants do lie
hidden, could you find them again):---these are not details that will be
available! Anecdotes there are in quantity; but of uncertain quality;
of doubtful authenticity, above all. One recollects hardly any
Anecdote whatever that seems completely credible, or renders to us the
Physiognomy of Friedrich in a convincing manner. So remiss a creature
has the Prussian Clio been,--employed on all kinds of loose errands over
the Earth and the Air; and as good as altogether negligent of this most
pressing errand in her own House. Peace be with her, poor slut;
why should we say one other hard word on taking leave of her to all
eternity!--
The Practical fact is, what we have henceforth to produce is more of
the nature of a loose Appendix of Papers, than of a finished Narrative.
Loose Papers,--which, we will hope, the reader can, by industry, be made
to understand and tolerate: more we cannot do for him. No continuous
Narrative is henceforth possible to us. For the sake of Friedrich's
closing Epoch, we will visit, for the last time, that dreary imbroglio
under which the memory of Friedrich, which ought to have been, in all
the epochs of it, bright and legible, lies buried; and will try to
gather, as heretofore, and put under labels. What dwells with oneself
as human may have some chance to be humanly interesting. In the wildest
chaos of marine-stores and editorial shortcomings (provided only the
editors speak truth, as these poor fellows do) THIS can be done.
Part the living from the dead; pick out what has some meaning, leave
carefully what has none; you will in some small measure pluck up the
memory of a hero, like drowned honor by the locks, and rescue it, into
visibility.
That Friedrich, on reaching home, made haste to get out, of the bustle
of joyances and exclamations on the streets; proceeded straight to his
music-chapel in Charlottenburg, summoning the Artists, or having them
already summoned; and had there, all alone, sitting invisible wrapt in
his cloak, Graun's or somebody's grand TE-DEUM pealed out to him, in
seas of melody,--soothing and salutary to the altered soul, revolving
many things,--is a popular myth, of pretty and appropriate character;
but a myth only, with no real foundation, though it has some loose
and apparent. [In PREUSS, ii. 46, all the details of it.] No doubt,
Friedrich had his own thoughts on entering Berlin again, after such
a voyage through the deeps; himself, his Country still here, though
solitary and in a world of wild shipwrecks. He was not without piety;
but it did not take the devotional form, and his habits had nothing of
the clerical.
What is perfectly known, and much better worth knowing, is the
instantaneous practical alacrity with which he set about repairing that
immense miscellany of ruin; and the surprising success he had in dealing
with it. His methods, his rapid inventions and procedures, in this
matter, are still memorable to Prussia; and perhaps might with advantage
be better known than they are in some other Countries. To us, what is
all we can do with them here, they will indicate that this is still the
old Friedrich, with his old activities and promptitudes; which indeed
continue unabated, lively in Peace as in War, to the end of his life and
reign.
The speed with which Prussia recovered was extraordinary. Within little
more than a year (June 1st, 1764), the Coin was all in order again; in
1765, the King had rebuilt, not to mention other things, "in Silesia
8,000 Houses, in Pommern 6,500." [Rodenbeck, ii. 234, 261.] Prussia has
been a meritorious Nation; and, however cut and ruined, is and was in a
healthy state, capable of recovering soon. Prussia has defended itself
against overwhelming odds,--brave Prussia; but the real soul of its
merit was that of having merited such a King to command it. Without this
King, all its valors, disciplines, resources of war, would have availed
Prussia little. No wonder Prussia has still a loyalty to its great
Friedrich, to its Hohenzollern Sovereigns generally. Without these
Hohenzollerns, Prussia had been, what we long ago saw it, the unluckiest
of German Provinces; and could never have had the pretension to exist
as a Nation at all. Without this particular Hohenzollern, it had been
trampled out again, after apparently succeeding. To have achieved a
Friedrich the Second for King over it, was Prussia's grand merit.
An accidental merit, thinks the reader? No, reader, you may believe me,
it is by no means altogether such. Nay, I rather think, could we look
into the Account-Books of the Recording Angel for a course of centuries,
no part of it is such! There are Nations in which a Friedrich is, or can
be, possible; and again there are Nations in which he is not and
cannot. To be practically reverent of Human Worth to the due extent,
and abhorrent of Human Want of Worth in the like proportion, do
you understand that art at all? I fear, not,--or that you are much
forgetting it again! Human Merit, do you really love it enough, think
you;--human Scoundrelism (brought to the dock for you, and branded as
scoundrel), do you even abhor it enough? Without that reverence and
its corresponding opposite-pole of abhorrence, there is simply no
possibility left. That, my friend, is the outcome and summary of all
virtues in this world, for a man or for a Nation of men. It is the
supreme strength and glory of a Nation;--without which, indeed, all
other strengths, and enormities of bullion and arsenals and warehouses,
are no strength. None, I should say;--and are oftenest even the REVERSE.
Nations who have lost this quality, or who never had it, what Friedrich
can they hope to be possible among them? Age after age they grind
down their Friedrichs contentedly under the hoofs of cattle on their
highways; and even find it an excellent practice, and pride themselves
on Liberty and Equality. Most certain it is, there will no Friedrich
come to rule there; by and by, there will none be born there. Such
Nations cannot have a King to command them; can only have this or
the other scandalous swindling Copper Captain, constitutional Gilt
Mountebank, or other the like unsalutary entity by way of King; and the
sins of the fathers are visited upon the children in a frightful and
tragical manner, little noticed in the Penny Newspapers and Periodical
Literatures of this generation. Oh, my friends--! But there is plain
Business waiting us at hand.
Chapter II.--REPAIRING OF A RUINED PRUSSIA.
That of Friedrich's sitting wrapt in a cloud of reflections
Olympian-Abysmal, in the music-chapel at Charlottenburg, while he had
the Ambrosian Song executed for him there, as the preliminary step, was
a loose myth; but the fact lying under it is abundantly certain. Few
Sons of Adam had more reason for a piously thankful feeling towards the
Past, a piously valiant towards the Future. What king or man had seen
himself delivered from such strangling imbroglios of destruction, such
devouring rages of a hostile world? And the ruin worked by them lay
monstrous and appalling all round. Friedrich is now Fifty-one gone;
unusually old for his age; feels himself an old man, broken with years
and toils; and here lies his Kingdom in haggard slashed condition, worn
to skin and bone: How is the King, resourceless, to remedy it? That is
now the seemingly impossible problem. "Begin it,--thereby alone will it
ever cease to be impossible!" Friedrich begins, we may say, on the
first morrow morning. Labors at his problem, as he did in the march to
Leuthen; finds it to become more possible, day after day, month after
month, the farther he strives with it.
"Why not leave it to Nature?" think many, with the Dismal Science
at their elbow. Well; that was the easiest plan, but it was not
Friedrich's. His remaining moneys, 25 million thalers ready for a
Campaign which has not come, he distributes to the most necessitous:
"all his artillery-horses" are parted into plough-teams, and given to
those who can otherwise get none: think what a fine figure of rye
and barley, instead of mere windlestraws, beggary and desolation, was
realized by that act alone. Nature is ready to do much; will of herself
cover, with some veil of grass and lichen, the nakedness of ruin: but
her victorious act, when she can accomplish it, is that of getting YOU
to go with her handsomely, and change disaster itself into new wealth.
Into new wisdom and valor, which are wealth in all kinds; California
mere zero to them, zero, or even a frightful MINUS quantity! Friedrich's
procedures in this matter I believe to be little less didactic than
those other, which are so celebrated in War: but no Dryasdust, not even
a Dryasdust of the Dismal Science, has gone into them, rendered men
familiar with them in their details and results. His Silesian Land-Bank
(joint-stock Moneys, lent on security of Land) was of itself, had I room
to explain it, an immense furtherance. [Preuss, iii. 75; _OEuvres de
Frederic,_ vi. 84.] Friedrich, many tell us, was as great in Peace as
in War: and truly, in the economic and material provinces, my own
impression, gathered painfully in darkness, and contradiction of the
Dismal-Science Doctors, is much to that effect. A first-rate Husbandman
(as his Father had been); who not only defended his Nation, but made it
rich beyond what seemed possible; and diligently sowed annuals into it,
and perennials which flourish aloft at this day.
Mirabeau's _Monarchie Prussienne,_ in 8 thick Volumes 8vo,--composed, or
hastily cobbled together, some Twenty years after this period,--contains
the best tabular view one anywhere gets of Friedrich's economics,
military and other practical methods and resources:--solid exact Tables
these are, and intelligent intelligible descriptions, done by Mauvillon
FILS, the same punctual Major Mauvillon who used to attend us in Duke
Ferdinand's War;--and so far as Mirabeau is concerned, the Work consists
farther of a certain small Essay done in big type, shoved into the belly
of each Volume, and eloquently recommending, with respectful censures
and regrets over Friedrich, the Gospel of Free Trade, dear to Papa
Mirabeau. The Son is himself a convert; far above lying, even to
please Papa: but one can see, the thought | 3,159.94658 |
2023-11-16 19:09:44.0275950 | 1,195 | 7 | THE JUNIATA VALLEY***
E-text prepared by Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive/American Libraries (http://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 41392-h.htm or 41392-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41392/41392-h/41392-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41392/41392-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://archive.org/details/historyofearlyse00jone
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
A caret (^) is used to indicate that the character following
it is printed as superscript, such as Y^e.
Printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation and
hyphenation have been retained.
[Illustration: JUNCTION OF FRANKSTOWN AND LUCKAHOE BRANCHES OF THE
JUNIATA BELOW ALEXANDRIA.]
HISTORY OF THE EARLY SETTLEMENT OF THE JUNIATA VALLEY:
Embracing an Account of the Early Pioneers,
and the Trials and Privations Incident to the
Settlement of the Valley,
Predatory Incursions, Massacres, and Abductions by the
Indians During the French and Indian Wars, and the War
of the Revolution, &c.
by
U. J. JONES.
Philadelphia:
Published by Henry B. Ashmead,
George St., Above Eleventh.
1856.
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1856, by
U. J. JONES, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of
the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
Stereotyped by L. Johnson and Co.
Philadelphia.
Dedication.
TO MAJOR B. F. BELL,
BELL'S MILLS, BLAIR COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA.
DEAR SIR:--I hope your well-known modesty will not be shocked when your
eyes encounter this notice. In dedicating to you the fruits of my first
historical labors in the field of literature, allow me to say that I am
governed by reasons that will justify me. In the first place, I may
cite your well-known and often-expressed veneration and esteem for the
memory of the brave old Pioneers of our Valley, their heroic deeds, and
their indomitable energy and perseverance, under the most discouraging
circumstances, in turning the unbroken wilderness into "a land flowing
with milk and honey." Secondly, you are the son of one of those
self-same old pioneers, (now in his grave,) who, if not a direct actor
in some of the scenes portrayed in the pages following, lived while
they were enacted, and trod upon the ground where many of them
occurred, while the actors in them were his friends and his neighbors.
Manifold, indeed, were the changes he witnessed during a long and
useful career; but the common lot of humanity was his, and he now
"sleeps the sleep that knows no waking," where once the lordly savage
roamed, and made the dim old woods echo with his whoop, many, many
years ago.
Lastly, it was through your encouragement that I undertook the task;
and it was through your kind and liberal spirit that I was enabled to
make it any thing more than an _unpublished_ history, unless I chose to
let others reap the benefit of my labors. These things, sir, you may
look upon as _private_, but I cannot refrain from giving them
publicity, since I acknowledge that your liberality has entailed upon
me a deeper debt of gratitude than I can repay by merely dedicating my
work to you.
Allow me, therefore, to dedicate to you, as a small token of my esteem
for you, the "History of the Early Settlement of the Juniata Valley."
If there is any thing in it to interest the present generation and
enlighten posterity, I am willing to divide the honor and glory of its
paternity with you, for I am neither afraid nor ashamed to confess
that, although I _wrote_ the _history_, it was through your generosity
that I was enabled to _publish_ the _book_.
A careful perusal of the work will, no doubt, convince you that I have
labored studiously to make it interesting, not only to the resident of
the Valley, but to the general reader, who must admit that, if I have
failed, it has not been for lack of the best exertions on my part.
In conclusion, should the book prove a failure, and not come up to the
expectations of my friends, you can console yourself with the
reflection that you made a mistake by inciting the wrong man to an
undertaking for which he was unqualified. A pleasant reflection! I
have said, that, as you were the _originator_ of the book, you should
share all the _honor_ that might arise from it. I will be more
magnanimous still; if the History proves a mere catchpenny swindle,
let the odium and execrations of a humbugged public fall upon
THE AUTHOR.
HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA | 3,160.047635 |
2023-11-16 19:09:44.2260360 | 260 | 22 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Six Months at the Cape, Letters to his friend Periwinkle, by R.M.
Ballantyne.
________________________________________________________________________
Robert Michael Ballantyne was born in 1825 and died in 1894. He was
educated at the Edinburgh Academy, and in 1841 he became a clerk with
the Hudson Bay Company, working at the Red River Settlement in Northen
Canada until 1847, arriving back in Edinburgh in 1848. The letters he
had written home were very amusing in their description of backwoods
life, and his family publishing connections suggested that he should
construct a book based on these letters. Three of his most enduring
books were written over the next decade, "The Young Fur Traders",
"Ungava", "The Hudson Bay Company", and were based on his experiences
with the H.B.C. In this period he also wrote "The Coral island" and
"Martin Rattler", both of these taking place in places never visited by
Ballantyne. Having been chided for small mistakes he made in these
books, he resolved always to visit the places he wrote about. With
these books he became known | 3,160.246076 |
2023-11-16 19:09:44.4070790 | 3,031 | 40 |
Produced by Jon Ingram, David King, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team
The Crisis of the
Naval War
By
ADMIRAL OF THE FLEET
VISCOUNT JELLICOE OF SCAPA
G.C.B., O.M., G.C.V.O.
_With 8 Plates and 6 Charts_
1920
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1. ADMIRALTY ORGANIZATION: THE CHANGES IN 1917
2. SUBMARINE CAMPAIGN IN THE EARLY PART OF 1917
3. ANTI-SUBMARINE OPERATIONS
4. THE INTRODUCTION OF THE CONVOY SYSTEM
5. THE CONVOY SYSTEM AT WORK
6. THE ENTRY OF THE UNITED STATES: OUR NAVAL POLICY EXPLAINED
7. PATROL CRAFT AND MINESWEEPING SERVICES
8. THE DOVER PATROL AND THE HARWICH FORCES
9. THE SEQUEL
10. "PRODUCTION" AT THE ADMIRALTY DURING 1917
11. NAVAL WORK
12. THE FUTURE
INDEX
LIST OF PLATES
A Mine Exploding
A German Submarine of the U-C Type
A German Submarine of the later Cruiser Class
A Smoke Screen for a Convoy
The Dummy Deck-house of a Decoy Ship
A Convoy Zigzagging
A Convoy with an Airship
Drifters at Sea
A Paddle Minesweeper
A German Mine on the Surface
Two Depth Charges after Explosion
The Tell-tale Oil Patch
A Submarine Submerging
Periscope of Submerged Submarine Travelling at Slow Speed
A Submarine Submerged
LIST OF CHARTS
(CONTAINED IN THE POCKET AT THE END OF THE BOOK)
A. Approach Areas and Typical Routes.
B. Typical Approach Lines.
C. Barred Zones Proclaimed by the Germans.
D. Patrol Areas, British Isles.
E. Patrol and Minesweeping Zones in the Mediterranean.
F. Showing French and British Ports within Range of the
German Bases at Ostend and Zeebrugge.
To
The Officers and Men
of our
Convoy, Escort, Patrol and Minesweeping Vessels
and their
Comrades of the Mercantile Marine
by whose splendid gallantry, heroic self-sacrifice, and
unflinching endurance the submarine
danger was defeated
INTRODUCTION
Owing to the peculiar nature and demands of naval warfare, but few
dispatches, corresponding to those describing the work and achievements
of our great armies, were issued during the progress of the war. In a
former volume I attempted to supply this defect in the historical
records, which will be available for future generations, so far as the
Grand Fleet was concerned, during my period as its Commander-in-Chief.
The present volume, which was commenced and nearly completed in 1918,
was to have been published at the same time. My departure on a Naval
mission early in 1919 prevented me, however, from putting the finishing
touches to the manuscript until my return this spring.
I hesitated as to the publication of this portion of what is in effect
one complete narrative, but eventually decided not to depart from my
original purpose. There is some reason to believe that the account of
the work of the Grand Fleet gave the nation a fuller conception of the
services which the officers and men of that force rendered in
circumstances which were necessarily not easily appreciated by landsmen.
This second volume, dealing with the defeat of the enemy's submarine
campaign, the gravest peril which ever threatened the population of this
country, as well as of the whole Empire, may not be unwelcome as a
statement of facts. They have been set down in order that the sequence
and significance of events may be understood, and that the nation may
appreciate the debt which it owes, in particular, to the seamen of the
Royal Navy and the Mercantile Marine, who kept the seas during the
unforgettable days of the intensive campaign.
This book, therefore, gives the outline of the work accomplished by the
Navy in combating the unrestricted submarine warfare instituted by the
Central Powers in February, 1917. It would have been a labour of love to
tell at greater length and in more detail how the menace was gradually
overcome by the gallantry, endurance and strenuous work of those serving
afloat in ships flying the White or the Red Ensigns, but I had not the
necessary materials at my disposal for such an exhaustive record.
The volume is consequently largely concerned with the successive steps
taken at the Admiralty to deal with a situation which was always
serious, and which at times assumed a very grave aspect. The ultimate
result of all Naval warfare must naturally rest with those who are
serving afloat, but it is only just to the Naval officers and others who
did such fine work at the Admiralty in preparing for the sea effort,
that their share in the Navy's final triumph should be known. The
writing of this book appeared also to be the only way in which I could
show my keen appreciation of the loyalty and devotion to duty of the
Naval Staff, of the many clever, ingenious and audacious schemes
developed and carried through for the destruction of submarines and the
safeguarding of ocean-borne trade, and of the skilful organization which
brought into being, and managed with such success, that great network of
convoys by which the sea communications of the Allies were kept open.
The volume shows how the officers who accompanied me to the Admiralty
from the Grand Fleet at the end of 1916, in association with those
already serving in Whitehall and others who joined in 1917, with the
necessary and valuable assistance of our comrades of the Mercantile
Marine, gradually produced the measures by which the Sea Service
conquered the gravest danger which has ever faced the Empire.
There were at times inevitable set-backs as the enemy gained experience
of our methods, and new ones had then to be devised, and we were always
most seriously handicapped by the strain imposed upon the Fleet by our
numerous military and other commitments overseas, and by the difficulty
of obtaining supplies of material, owing to the pre-occupation of our
industries in meeting the needs of our Armies in equipment and
munitions; but, generally speaking, it may be said that in April, 1917,
the losses reached their maximum, and that from the following month and
onwards the battle was being slowly but gradually won. By the end of the
year it was becoming apparent that success was assured.
The volume describes the changes carried out in the Admiralty Staff
organization; the position of affairs in regard to submarine warfare in
the early part of 1917; and the numerous anti-submarine measures which
were devised and brought into operation during the year. The
introduction and working of the convoy system is also dealt with. The
entry of the United States of America into the war marked the opening of
a new phase of the operations by sea, and it has been a pleasure to give
particulars of our cordial co-operation with the United States Navy. The
splendid work of the patrol craft and minesweepers is described all too
briefly, and I have had to be content to give only a brief summary of
the great services of the Dover and Harwich forces.
Finally, an effort has been made to suggest the range and character of
the work of the Production Departments at the Admiralty. It is
impossible to tell this part of the story without conveying some
suggestion of criticism since the output never satisfied our
requirements. I have endeavoured also to indicate where it seemed to me
that changes in organization were not justified by results, so that in
future years we may benefit by the experience gained. But I would not
like it to be thought that I did not, and do not, realize the
difficulties which handicapped production, or that I did not appreciate
to the full the work done by all concerned.
It is unfortunate that attempts to draw attention to the lessons taught
us by the war are regarded by many people either as complaints of lack
of devotion to the country's interests on the part of some, or as
criticisms of others who, in the years before the war or during the war,
were responsible for the administration of the Navy. In anticipation of
such an attitude, I wish to state emphatically that, where mention is
made of apparent shortcomings or of action which, judged by results, did
not seem, to meet a particular situation, this is done solely in order
that on any future occasion of a similar character--and may the day be
long postponed--the nation may profit by experience.
Those who are inclined to indulge in criticism should ever bear in mind
that the Navy was faced with problems which were never foreseen, and
could not have been foreseen, by anyone in this country. Who, for
instance, would have ever had the temerity to predict that the Navy,
confronted by the second greatest Naval Power in the world, would be
called upon to maintain free communications across the Channel for many
months until the months became years, in face of the naval forces of the
enemy established on the Belgian coast, passing millions of men across
in safety, as well as vast quantities of stores and munitions? Who would
have prophesied that the Navy would have to safeguard the passage of
hundreds of thousands of troops from the Dominions to Europe, as well as
the movement of tens of thousands of labourers from China and elsewhere?
Or who, moreover, would have been believed had he stated that the Navy
would be required to keep open the sea communications of huge armies in
Macedonia, Egypt, Palestine, Mesopotamia and East Africa, against attack
by surface vessels, submarines and mines, whilst at the same time
protecting the merchant shipping of ourselves, our Allies, and neutral
Powers against similar perils, and assisting to ensure the safety of the
troops of the United States when they, in due course, were brought
across the Atlantic? Compare those varied tasks with the comparatively
modest duties which in pre-war days were generally assigned to the Navy,
and it will be seen how much there may be to learn of the lessons of
experience, and how sparing we should be of criticism. Wisdom distilled
from events which were unforeseeable should find expression not in
criticisms of those who did their duty to the best of their ability, but
in the taking of wise precautions for the future.
Little mention is made in this volume of the work of the Grand Fleet
during the year 1917, but, although that Fleet had no opportunity of
showing its fighting power, it must never be forgotten that without the
Grand Fleet, under the distinguished officer who succeeded me as
Commander-in-Chief at the end of 1916, all effort would have been of no
avail, since every operation by sea, as well as by land, was carried out
under the sure protecting shield of that Fleet, which the enemy could
not face.
I am conscious of many shortcomings in the book, but it may prove of
interest to those who desire to know something of the measures which
gradually wore down the German submarine effort, and, at any rate, it is
the only record likely to be available in the near future of the work of
fighting the submarines in 1917.
June, 1920.
CHAPTER I
ADMIRALTY ORGANIZATION; THE CHANGES IN 1917
It is perhaps as well that the nation generally remained to a great
extent unconscious of the extreme gravity of the situation which
developed during the Great War, when the Germans were sinking an
increasing volume of merchant tonnage week by week. The people of this
country as a whole rose superior to many disheartening events and never
lost their sure belief in final victory, but full knowledge of the
supreme crisis in our history might have tended to undermine in some
quarters that confidence in victory which it was essential should be
maintained, and, in any event, the facts could not be disclosed without
benefiting the enemy. But the position at times was undoubtedly
extremely serious.
At the opening of the war we possessed approximately half the merchant
tonnage of the world, but experience during the early part of the
struggle revealed that we had not a single ship too many for the great
and increasing oversea military liabilities which we were steadily
incurring, over and above the responsibility of bringing to these shores
the greater part of the food for a population of forty-five million
people, as well as nearly all the raw materials which were essential for
the manufacture of munitions. The whole of our war efforts, ashore as
well as afloat, depended first and last on an adequate volume of
merchant shipping.
It is small wonder, therefore, that those who watched from day to day
the increasing toll which the enemy took of the country's sea-carrying
power, were sometimes filled with deep concern for the future.
Particularly was this the case during the early months of unrestricted
submarine warfare in 1917. For if the menace had not been mastered to a
considerable extent, and that speedily, not only would the victory of
the Allies have been imperilled, but this country would have been
brought face to face with conditions approaching starvation. In pre-war
days the possibility of these islands being blockaded was frequently
discussed; but during the dark days of the unrestricted submarine
campaign there was ample excuse for those with imagination to picture
the implication of events which were happening from week to week. The
memories of those days are already becoming somewhat dim, and as a
matter of history and a guide to the future, it is perhaps well that
some account should be given, however inadequate, of the dangers which
confronted the country and of the means which were adopted to avert the
worst consequences of the enemy's campaign without ceasing to exert the
increasing pressure of our sea power upon his fighting efficiency, and
without diminishing our military efforts overseas.
The latter points were of great importance. It was | 3,160.427119 |
2023-11-16 19:09:44.5602380 | 1,692 | 17 |
E-text prepared by Eric Hutton, Charlie Howard, Ayeshah Ali, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the more than four hundred
original illustrations and an audio illustration.
See 42386-h.htm or 42386-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42386/42386-h/42386-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42386/42386-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Many of the images in the book have multi-line captions, and
the first line of most of them contains attributions (credits)
set off by unpaired curly braces. For example,
J. A. Vinter.} {National Portrait Gallery.
SIR ROWLAND HILL
under a portrait tells us the the portrait of Sir Rowland
Hill was by J. A. Vinter and hangs in the National Portrait
Gallery. Some illustrations have only an artist or only a
location.
Sidenotes have been repositioned to immediately precede the
paragraphs in which they occurred.
Inverted asterisms are indicated by three asterisks ***.
Table of Contents added by transcriber.
SIXTY YEARS A QUEEN.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Preface iii
PART ONE: SIXTY YEARS A QUEEN
CHAPTER I.
1837-1838.
Death of William IV.--Princess Alexandrina Victoria summoned to
the Throne--Ignorance of the Public about the young Queen--Her
early training--Severance of the Crown of Great Britain and
Hanover--Prorogation of Parliament--Early Railways--Electric
Telegraph--The Coronation--Popular Reception of Wellington and
Soult--State of Parties--Result of General Election--Rebellion
in Canada--The Earl of Durham--Debate on Vote by Ballot. 3
CHAPTER II.
1837-1842.
Lord Melbourne's services and character--Prevailing discontent
of the Working Classes--Its Causes--The Chartists--Riots at
Newport and elsewhere--Fall of the Ministry--Sir Robert Peel
sent for--The "Bedchamber Question"--Melbourne recalled to
Office--The Penny Post--Its remarkable Success--Betrothal of the
Queen--Character of Prince Albert--Announcement to
Parliament--Debates--Marriage of the Queen and Prince
Albert--War declared with China--Capture of Chusan--Bombardment
of the Bogue Forts--Peace concluded under the Walls of Nankin. 18
CHAPTER III.
1841-1846.
Unpopularity of the Whigs--Fall of the Melbourne
Ministry--Peel's Cabinet--The Afghan War--Murder of Sir A.
Burnes and Sir W. Macnaghten--The Retreat from
Cabul--Annihilation of the British Force--The Corn Duties--The
Pioneers of Free Trade--Failure of Potato Crop in Ireland--Lord
John Russell's conversion to Free Trade--Peel and Repeal--Rupture
of the Tory Party--The Corn Duties repealed--Defeat and
Resignation of the Government--Review of Peel's Administration. 30
CHAPTER IV.
1833-1849.
The Churches of England and Scotland--"Tracts for the
Times"--Newman, Keble, and Pusey--"Ten Years' Conflict" in
Scotland--Disruption of the Church--Dr. Chalmers--Rise of the
Free Church--Affairs of British India--First Sikh War--Battles
of Meeanee, Moodkee, Ferozeshah, Aliwal and Sobraon--Second Sikh
War--Murder of Vans Agnew and Anderson--Battle of
Ramnuggur--Siege and Fall of Mooltan--Battles of Chilianwalla
and Goojerat--Annexation of the Punjab. 41
CHAPTER V.
1846-1850.
The Irish Famine--Smith O'Brien's Rebellion--Widow Cormack's
Cabbages--The Special Commission--Revival of the Chartist
Movement--The Monster Petition--Its Exposure and Collapse of the
Movement--Revolutionary Movements in Britain compared with those
in other Countries--Growing Affection for the Queen--Its
Causes--Royal Visit to Ireland--The Pacifico Imbroglio--Rupture
with France Imminent--_Civis Romanus Sum_--Lord Palmerston's
Rise--Sir Robert Peel's Death--The Invention of Chloroform. 47
CHAPTER VI.
1849-1851.
Prince Albert's Industry--His proposal for a Great
Exhibition--Adoption of the Scheme--Competing Designs--Mr.
Paxton's selected--Erection of the Crystal Palace--Colonel
Sibthorp denounces the Scheme--Papal Titles in Great
Britain--Popular Indignation--The Ecclesiastical Titles
Bill--Defeat of Ministers on the Question of the
Franchise--Difficulty in finding a Successor to Russell--He
resumes Office--Opening of the Great Exhibition--Its success and
close. 55
CHAPTER VII.
1851-1853.
Louis Napoleon's Coup d'Etat--Condemned in the English
Press--Lord Palmerston's Indiscretion Rebuked by the Queen--He
Repeats it and is Removed from Office--Opening of the New Houses
of Parliament--French Invasion Apprehended--Russell's Militia
Bill--Defeat and Resignation of Ministers--The "Who? Who?"
Cabinet--Death of the Duke of Wellington--His Funeral--The
Haynau Incident--General Election--Disraeli's First
Budget--Defeat and Resignation of Ministers--The Coalition
Cabinet--Expansion of the British Colonies--Repeal of the
Transportation Act. 63
CHAPTER VIII.
1853-1854.
The "Sick Man"--Position of the Eastern Question--Projects of
the Emperor Nicholas--The Custody of the Holy Places--Prince
Menschikoff's Demand--Russian Invasion of Moldo-Wallachia--The
Vienna Note--Declaration of War by the Porte--Destruction of the
Turkish Fleet--Resignation of Lord Palmerston--Great Britain and
France Declare War with Russia--State of the British Armaments. 73
CHAPTER IX.
1854-1856.
Mr. Gladstone's War Budget--Humiliation and Prayer--The Invasion
of the Crimea--The Battle of Alma--A Fruitless Victory--Effect
in England--War Correspondents--Balaklava--Cavalry Charges by
the Heavy and Light Brigades--"Our's Not to Reason Why"--Russian
Sortie--Battle of Inkermann--Breakdown of Transport and
Commissariat--Hurricane in the Black Sea--Florence
Nightingale--Fall of the Coalition Cabinet--Lord Palmerston
Forms a Ministry--Victory of the Turks at
Eupatoria--Unsuccessful Attack by the Allies--Death of Lord
Raglan--His Character--Battle of Tchernaya--Evacuation of
Sebastopol--Surrender of Kars--Conclusion of Peace. 79
CHAPTER X.
1857-1858.
The Lorcha _ | 3,160.580278 |
2023-11-16 19:09:45.4594720 | 1,549 | 23 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
.. POEMS..
BY
CROCKET McELROY.
ST. CLAIR,
MICHIGAN.
[Illustration: colophon]
CHICAGO,
SCROLL PUBLISHING COMPANY,
1900.
Copyrighted, 1900,
BY CROCKET McELROY.
TO
HON. THOMAS W. PALMER, Detroit, Michigan;
HON. JOSEPH B. MOORE, Lansing, Michigan;
CAPTAIN BYRON WHITAKER, Detroit, Michigan;
HENRY C. FRENCH, Esq., Buffalo, New York;
CHARLES A. CALZIN, Esq., Marine City, Michigan;
and all my other friends, this book is dedicated.
CROCKET MCELROY.
INDEX.
POEMS OF PATRIOTISM.
Our Country and Our Flag, 9
The Flag of Hobson’s Choice, 16
The Old Soldier, 21
Washington, 26
A Voice for Freedom, 29
The Reconcentrados, 31
The Celebration, 40
Ode to Ontario, 42
The United States and Canada, 44
Ode to Our Country, 45
POEMS OF SENTIMENT.
The Milk of Human Kindness, 49
The Working Girl, 52
The Wayward Girl, 56
The Rose Cure, 59
To a Snow Drop, 61
A Family Song, 63
Thanksgiving Day, 64
Parental Advice, 65
The Doctor, 67
Brotherly Love, 69
The Minister’s Wife, 70
Nothing to Say, 73
The Heart, 74
My Darling Flora’s Margaret, 75
The Rich Sweet Sound of the Human Voice, 78
The Man for the Times, 82
POEMS OF FEELING.
To My Soul, 87
Dear Rolla, 89
To the Memory of a Good Woman, 90
On the Death of Mrs. Maggie Blood, 91
To the Memory of Mrs. Fidelia Whitaker, 93
Braver the Sick, 95
Do not Die Tonight, 96
On the Death of Mary McElroy, 98
Address to Death, 100
To the Memory of Mrs. Hon. Justin R. Whiting, 106
Captain Archie Morrison, 109
POEMS OF DESCRIPTION.
Where the Wind Blows, 113
Ode to Lake Superior, 117
The Dundas Valley, 118
The St. Clair River, 119
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
Compensation, 139
Expansion, 146
Fear Not, Lorain, 148
The Teacher, 150
A Gem, 153
The China Wedding, 154
The Honest Man’s Fate, 155
Time and Tide, 156
Christmas Day, 157
Progressive Euchre, 158
The Winner, 162
A Walk by Moonlight, 163
The Painter, 165
A Doctor’s Advice, 166
Here I Am, 168
A Christmas Turkey, 169
To Mrs. Harriet S. DeLano and Her Baby, 170
For the Baby, 171
Lines on My Father, 171
Advice to a Young Poet, 172
An Acrostic, 173
Charley’s Puppy, 174
Merry Christmas, 175
Temperance, 175
The Folding Puzzle, 176
In Florence’s Album, 176
In Lizzie Leonard’s Album, 177
In Henrietta’s Album, 177
In Worthy’s Album, 178
In Flora’s Album, 178
In Etta’s Album, 179
In Grace’s Album, 179
The Gallop of Life, 180
Where Are All the People We Knew, 184
The Honest Man, 187
Beautiful Things, 189
The Nurse, 192
A Sweet Disposition, 195
The Scow Race, 197
A Happy Choice, 201
Beautiful Flowers, 203
The Value of a Friend, 204
PART I.
POEMS OF PATRIOTISM
OUR COUNTRY AND OUR FLAG.
At morning light October twelfth,
In fourteen hundred ninety-two,
With shouts of joy and dreams of wealth,
Columbus and his happy crew,
Sang land ahoy! Sweet land ahoy!
And landing on the virgin soil,
Gave thanks to God, in tears of joy,
And laughed at danger, care and toil.
And thus became our country known
A short four hundred years ago,
And yet in greatness it has grown
Beyond the reach of man to know;
The forests vast have given way
Before man’s mighty march and hand,
And prairie wastes like night to day
Have changed to blooming garden land.
The savage hosts that here were found
Living like roving beasts of prey,
Have given up their hunting ground,
And thrown their poisoned darts away;
Now turning to the arts of peace,
And living on the white man’s plan,
Their wasted numbers will increase,
While they respect the rights of man.
The howling wolf and dreaded bear,
The buffalo and antelope,
And all the beasts not in man’s care,
Are going down the western <DW72>;
Whate’er obstructs the onward tread,
Of the overwhelming march of man,
Must soon be numbered with the dead,
All sacrificed on nature’s plan.
The mighty rivers and great lakes,
Where once did float the bark canoe,
Are but the means that nature makes,
To push man’s grand endeavors thru;
And now upon these waters floats
A commerce of a size so vast,
(In more than seven thousand boats)
It never yet has been surpassed.
And pressing on for conquests new,
The teeming millions reach our shore,
And bore the very mountains thru,
In eager reaching out for more;
The earth gives up its lead and gold,
Its silver, copper, salt, and oil,
And countless wealth will yet unfold,
Ere man has ceased to think and toil.
A thousand cities now we show,
And eighty million freemen rule,
Where but four hundred years ago,
There was no house, or church, or school,
And not a white man yet had trod
The fairest portion of the earth,
The land where all may worship God,
Where liberty was given | 3,161.479512 |
2023-11-16 19:09:45.6255490 | 2,677 | 27 |
Produced by Michael McDermott, from scans obtained at the
Internet Archive
WORKS OF MARTIN LUTHER
WITH INTRODUCTIONS AND NOTES
VOLUME II
PHILADELPHIA
A. J. HOLMAN Company
1916
Copyright, 1915, by
A. J. HOLMAN Company
WORKS OF MARTIN LUTHER
CONTENTS
A TREATISE CONCERNING THE BLESSED SACRAMENT
AND CONCERNING THE BROTHERHOODS (1519).
Introduction (J. J. Schindel)
Translation (J. J. Schindel)
A TREATISE CONCERNING THE BAN (1520).
Introduction (J. J. Schindel)
Translation (J. J. Schindel)
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE CHRISTIAN NOBILITY (1520).
Introduction (C. M. Jacobs)
Translation (C. M. Jacobs)
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY OF THE CHURCH (1520).
Introduction (A. T. W. Steinhaeuser)
Translation (A. T. W. Steinhaeuser)
A TREATISE ON CHRISTIAN LIBERTY (1520).
Introduction (W. A. Lambert)
Translation (W. A. Lambert)
A BRIEF EXPLANATION OF THE TEN COMMANDMENTS,
THE CREED, AND THE LORD'S PRAYER (1520).
Introduction (C. M. Jacobs)
Translation (C. M. Jacobs)
THE EIGHT WITTENBERG SERMONS (1522).
Introduction (A. Steimle)
Translation (A. Steimle)
THAT DOCTRINES OF MEN ARE TO BE REJECTED (1522).
Introduction (W. A. Lambert)
Translation (W. A. Lambert)
A TREATISE CONCERNING THE BLESSED SACRAMENT OF THE HOLY AND TRUE BODY
OF CHRIST AND CONCERNING THE BROTHERHOODS
1519
INTRODUCTION
This treatise belongs to a series of four which appeared in the latter
half of the year 1519, the others treating of the Ban, Penance, and
Baptism. The latter two with our treatise form a trilogy which Luther
dedicates to the Duchess Margaret of Braunschweig and Luneburg.
He undertakes the work, as he says, "because there are so many
troubled and distressed ones--and I myself have had the
experience--who do not know what the holy sacraments, full of all
grace, are, nor how to use them, but, alas! presume upon quieting
their consciences with their works, instead of seeking peace in God's
grace through the holy sacrament; so completely are the holy
sacraments obscured and withdrawn from us by the teaching of men."[1]
In a letter to Spalatin[2] of December 18, 1519, he says that no one
need expect treatises from him on the other sacraments, since he
cannot acknowledge them as such.
A copy from the press of John Grunenberg of Wittenberg reached Duke
George of Saxony by December 24, 1519, who on December 27th already
entered his protest against it with the Elector Frederick and the
Bishops of Meissen and Merseburg[3]. Duke George took exception
particularly to Luther's advocacy of the two kinds in the
Communion[4]. This statement of Luther, however, was but incidental to
his broad and rich treatment of the subject of the treatise.
It was Luther's first extended statement of his view of the Lord's
Supper. As such it is very significant, not only because of what he
says, but also because of what he does not say. There is no reference
at all to that which was then distinctive of the Church's doctrine,
the sacrifice of the mass. Luther has already abandoned this position,
but is either too loyal a church-man to attack it or has not as yet
found an evangelical interpretation of the idea of sacrifice in the
mass, such as he gives us in the later treatise on the New
Testament[5]. However, already in this treatise he gives us the
antidote for the false doctrine of sacrifice in the emphasis laid upon
faith, on which all depends[6]. The object of this faith, however, is
not yet stated to be the promise of the forgiveness of sins contained
in the Words of Institution, which are a new and eternal testament[7].
The treatise shows the influence of the German mystics[8] on Luther's
thought, but much more of the Scriptures which furnish him with
argument and illustration for his mystical conceptions. Christ's
natural body is made of less importance than the spiritual body[9],
the communion of saints; just as in the later treatise on the New
Testament the stress is placed on the Words of Institution with their
promise of the forgiveness of sins. Luther does not try to explain
philosophically what is inexplicable, but is content to accept on
faith the act of the presence of Christ in the sacrament, "how and
where,--we leave to Him."[10]
Of interest is the emphasis on the spiritual body, the communion of
saints. Luther knows that although excommunication is exclusion from
external communion, it is not necessarily exclusion from real
spiritual communion with Christ and His saints[11]. No wonder, then,
that he can later treat the papal bull with so much indifference; it
cannot exclude him from the communion of saints.
The treatise consists of three main divisions: sections 1 to 3
treating of the outward sign of the sacrament; sections 4 to 16, of
the inner significance; sections 17 to 22, of faith. Added to this is
the appendix on the subject of the brotherhoods or sodalities,
associations of laymen or charitable and devotional purposes. Of these
there were many at this time, Wittenberg alone being reported as
having twenty-one. Luther objects not only to their immoral conduct,
but also to the spiritual pride which they engendered. He finds in the
communion of saints the fundamental brotherhood instituted in the holy
sacrament, the common brotherhood of all saints.
The modern world needs to have these truths driven home anew, and,
barring a few scholastic phrases here and there, cannot find them
better expressed than in the remarkably elevated and devotional
language of Luther in this treatise.
The text of the treatise is found in the following editions: Weimar
Ed., vol. ii, 742; Erlangen Ed., vol. xxvii, 28; Walch Ed., Vol. xix,
522; St. Louis Ed., xix, 426; Clemen, vol. i, 196; Berlin Ed., vol.
iii, 259.
Literature besides that mentioned:
Tschackert, _Enstehung der lutherischen und reformierten
Kirchenlehre_, 1910, pp. 174-176.
K. Thieme, _Entwicklung und Bedeutung der Sakramentslehre Luthers_,
Neueu Kirchl. Zeitschrift, XII (1901), Nos. 10 and 11.
F. Graebke, _Die Konstruktion der Abendmahlslehre Luthers in ihre
Entwicklung dargestellt_, Leipzig 1908.
J. J. SCHINDEL.
Allentown, PA.
FOOTNOTES
[1] See Clemen, 1, p. 175.
[2] Enders, II, no. 254. Smith, _Luther's Correspondence_, I, no.
206.
[3] Gess, _Akten und Briefe zur Kirchenpolitik Herzog Georgs von
Sachsen_, Leipzig, 1905.
[4] See below, p. 9.
[5] In this edition, Vol. I, pp. 294-336. See especially pp. 312 ff.
[6] See below, pp. 19, 25.
[7] _Treatise on the New Testament_, Vol. I, pp. 297 ff.
[8] See Kostlin, _Luther's Theologie_, I, 292 f.; also Hering, _Die
Mystik Luthers_, Leipzig, 1879, pp. 171-174.
[9] See below, p. 23.
[10] See below, p.20.
[11] See _Treatise concerning the Ban_, below, p. 37.
A TREATISE CONCERNING THE BLESSED SACRAMENT OF THE HOLY AND TRUE BODY
OF CHRIST AND CONCERNING THE BROTHERHOODS
1519
1. Like the sacrament of holy baptism[1] the holy sacrament of the
altar, or of the holy and true body of Christ, has three parts which
it is necessary or us to know. The first is the sacrament, or sign,
the second is the significance of this sacrament, the third is the
faith required by both of these; the three parts which must be found
in every sacrament. The sacrament must be external and visible, and
have some material form; the significance must be internal and
spiritual, within the spirit of man; faith must apply and use both
these.
[Sidenote: The First Part of the Sacrament: the Sign]
2. The sacrament, or outward sign, is in the form of bread and wine,
just as baptism has as its sign water; although the sign is not simply
the form of bread and wine, but the use of the bread and wine in
eating and drinking, just as the water of baptism is used by immersion
or by pouring. For the sacrament, or sign, must be received, or must
at least be desired, if it is to work a blessing. Although at present
the two kinds are not given the people daily, as of old,--nor is this
necessary,--yet the priesthood partakes of it daily in the sight of
the people, and it is enough that the people desire it daily and
receive one kind at the proper time, as the Christian Church ordains
and offers[2].
3. I deem it well, however, that the Church in a general council
should again decree[3] that all persons, as well as the priests, be
given both kinds. Not that one kind were insufficient, since indeed
the simple desire of faith suffices, as St. Augustine says: "Why
preparest thou stomach and teeth? Only believe and thou hast already
partaken of the sacrament";[4] but because it would be meet and right
that the form, or sign, of the sacrament be given not in part only,
but in its entirety, just as I have said of baptism[5] that it were
more fitting to immerse than to pour the water, for the sake of the
completeness and perfection of the sign. For this sacrament signifies
the complete union and the undivided fellowship of the saints, as we
shall see, and this is poorly and unfittingly indicated by only one
part of the sacrament. Nor is there as great a danger in the use of
the cup as is supposed, since the people seldom go to this sacrament,
and Christ was well aware of all future dangers[6], and yet saw it to
institute both kinds or the use of all His Christians.
[Sidenote: The Second Part of the Sacrament: the Significance]
4. The significance or purpose of this sacrament is the fellowship of
all saints, whence it derives its common name _synaxis_ or _communio_,
that is, fellowship; and _communicare_ means to take part in this
fellowship, or as we say, to go to the sacrament, because Christ and
all saints are one spiritual body, just as the inhabitants of a city
are one community and body, each citizen being a member of the other
and a member of the entire city. All the saints, therefore, are
members of Christ and of the Church, which is a spiritual and eternal
city of God, and whoever is taken into this city is said to be
received into the community of saints, and to be incorporated into
Christ | 3,161.645589 |
2023-11-16 19:09:45.7427170 | 260 | 129 |
Produced by ellinora, 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)
THE MAN BEHIND THE BARS
BY
WINIFRED LOUISE TAYLOR
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1914
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published October, 1914
[Illustration: Logo]
TO
MY PRISON FRIENDS
PREFACE
Lest any one may charge me with extravagant optimism in regard to
convicts, or may think that to me every goose is a swan, I wish to say
that I have written only of the men--among hundreds of convicts--who
have most interested me; men whom I have known thoroughly and who never
attempted to deceive me. Every writer's vision of life and of humanity
is inevitably by his own personality, and I have pictured these
men as I saw them; but I have also endeavored, in using so much from
their letters, to leave the reader free to form his own opinion.
Doubt | 3,161.762757 |
2023-11-16 19:09:46.2582690 | 261 | 13 |
Produced by Charles Keller. HTML version by Al Haines.
EMMA McCHESNEY & CO.
by
Edna Ferber
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. BROADWAY TO BUENOS AIRES
II. THANKS TO MISS MORRISSEY
III. A CLOSER CORPORATION
IV. BLUE SERGE
V. "HOOPS, MY DEAR!"
VI. SISTERS UNDER THEIR SKIN
VII. AN ETUDE FOR EMMA
EMMA McCHESNEY & CO.
I
BROADWAY TO BUENOS AIRES
The door marked "MRS. MCCHESNEY" was closed. T. A. Buck, president of
the Buck Featherloom Petticoat Company, coming gaily down the hall,
stopped before it, dismayed, as one who, with a spicy bit of news at
his tongue's end, is met with rebuff before the first syllable is
voiced. That closed door meant: "Busy. Keep out."
"She'll be reading a letter," T. A. Buck told himself grimly. Then he
turned the knob and entered his partner's office.
| 3,162.278309 |
2023-11-16 19:09:46.6254360 | 942 | 15 |
Produced by Delphine Lettau, Hazel Batey and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
This E text uses UTF-8 (unicode) file encoding. If the apostrophes,
quotation marks and greek text [{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}] in this paragraph
appear as garbage, you may have an incompatible browser or
unavailable fonts. First, make sure that your browser's "character
set" or "file encoding" is set to Unicode (UTF-8). You may also
need to change the default font.
STONES OF THE TEMPLE
R I V I N G T O N S
London _Waterloo Place_
Oxford _High Street_
Cambridge _Trinity Street_
Illustration: STONES OF THE TEMPLE
STONES OF THE TEMPLE or
Lessons from the fabric and furniture of the Church
By WALTER FIELD, M.A., F.S.A.
RIVINGTONS London, Oxford, and Cambridge 1871
"When it pleased God to raise up kings and emperors favouring sincerely
the Christian truth, that which the Church before either could not or
durst not do, was with all alacrity performed. Temples were in
all places erected, no cost was spared: nothing judged too
dear which that way should be spent. The whole world did
seem to exult, that it had occasion of pouring out gifts
to so blessed a purpose. That cheerful devotion which
David did this way exceedingly delight to behold,
and wish that the same in the Jewish people
might be perpetual, was then in Christian
people every where to be seen.
So far as our Churches and their
Temple have one end, what
should let but that they
may lawfully have one
form?"--Hooker's
"Ecclesiastical
Polity."
{~MALTESE CROSS~}
CONTENTS
PREFACE.
_Chap._ _Page_
I. THE LICH-GATE 1
II. LICH-STONES 11
III. GRAVE-STONES 19
IV. GRAVE-STONES 31
V. THE PORCH 43
VI. THE PORCH 51
VII. THE PAVEMENT 63
VIII. THE PAVEMENT 73
IX. THE PAVEMENT 81
X. THE PAVEMENT 91
XI. THE WALLS 103
XII. THE WALLS 111
XIII. THE WINDOWS 123
XIV. A LOOSE STONE IN THE BUILDING 145
XV. THE FONT 155
XVI. THE PULPIT 167
XVII. THE PULPIT 175
XVIII. THE NAVE 187
XIX. THE NAVE 197
XX. THE AISLES 209
XXI. THE TRANSEPTS 217
XXII. THE CHANCEL-SCREEN 225
XXIII. THE CHANCEL 235
XXIV. THE ALTAR 245
XXV. THE ORGAN-CHAMBER 255
XXVI. THE VESTRY 265
XXVII. THE PILLARS 275
XXVIII. THE ROOF 285
XXIX. THE TOWER 295
XXX. THE HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS 311
INDEX OF ENGRAVINGS
_Page_
St. Mildred's Church and Lich | 3,162.645476 |
2023-11-16 19:09:46.7776110 | 1,906 | 13 |
Produced by Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
SCOTCH LOCH-FISHING
BY
"BLACK PALMER"
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCLXXXII
_All Rights reserved_
DEDICATED
TO THE
MEMBERS OF THE WESTERN ANGLING CLUB GLASGOW
IN REMEMBRANCE OF MANY HAPPY DAYS
SPENT IN THEIR COMPANY
PREFACE.
The Author of this very practical treatise on Scotch Loch-Fishing
desires chiefly that it may be of use to all who read it. He does not
pretend to have written anything new, but to have attempted to put what
he has to say in as readable a form as possible. Everything in the way
of the history and habits of fish has been studiously avoided, and
technicalities have been used as sparingly as possible. The writing of
this book has afforded him much pleasure in his leisure moments, and
that pleasure would be much increased if he knew that the perusal of it
would create any bond of sympathy between himself and the angling
community in general. This edition is interleaved with blank sheets for
the reader's notes. The Author need hardly say that any suggestions
addressed to the care of the publishers, will meet with consideration in
a future edition.
GLASGOW, _March 1882_.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. INTRODUCTORY, 1
II. EQUIPMENT, 5
III. TACKLE AND ACCESSORIES, 7
IV. FLIES AND CASTING-LINES, 13
V. TROLLING-TACKLE AND LURES, 21
VI. DUTIES OF BOATMAN, 27
VII. ETIQUETTE OF LOCH-FISHING, 33
VIII. CASTING AND STRIKING, 37
IX. TROLLING, 42
X. CAPTURE OF FISH, 48
XI. AFTER A DAY'S FISHING, 60
XII. REMINISCENCES, 65
XIII. CONCLUSION, 80
SCOTCH LOCH-FISHING.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
We do not pretend to write or enlarge upon a new subject. Much has been
said and written--and well said and written too--on the art of fishing;
but loch-fishing _per se_ has been rather looked upon as a second-rate
performance, and to dispel this idea is one of the objects for which
this present treatise has been written. Far be it from us to say
anything against fishing, lawfully practised in any form; but many pent
up in our large towns will bear us out when we say that, on the whole,
a day's loch-fishing is the most convenient. One great matter is, that
the loch-fisher is dependent on nothing but enough wind to "curl" the
water,--and on a large loch it is very seldom that a dead calm prevails
all day,--and can make his arrangements for a day, weeks beforehand;
whereas the stream-fisher is dependent for a good take on the state of
the water: and however pleasant and easy it may be for one living near
the banks of a good trout stream or river, it is quite another matter to
arrange for a day's river-fishing, if one is looking forward to a
holiday at a date some weeks ahead. Providence may favour the expectant
angler with a "good" day, and the water in order; but experience has
taught most of us that the "good" days are in the minority, and that, as
is the case with our rapid running streams,--such as many of our
northern streams are,--the water is either too large or too small,
unless, as previously remarked, you live near at hand, and can catch it
at its best.
A common belief in regard to loch-fishing is, that the tyro and the
experienced angler have nearly the same chance in fishing,--the one from
the stern and the other from the bow of the same boat. Of all the
absurd beliefs as to loch-fishing, this is one of the most absurd. Try
it. Give the tyro either end of the boat he likes; give him a cast of
any flies he may fancy, or even a cast similar to those which a "crack"
may be using; and if he catches one for every three the other has, he
may consider himself very lucky. Of course there are lochs where the
fish are not abundant, and a beginner may come across as many as an
older fisher; but we speak of lochs where there are fish to be caught,
and where each has a fair chance.
Again, it is said that the boatman has as much to do with catching trout
in a loch as the angler. Well, we don't deny that. In an untried loch it
is necessary to have the guidance of a good boatman; but the same
argument holds good as to stream-fishing. There are "pools and pools,"
and the experienced loch-fisher can "spot" a bay or promontory, where
trout are likely to be lying, with as much certainty as his brother
angler can calculate on the lie of fish in a stream. Then there are
objections to loch-fishing on the score of expense. These we are not
prepared to refute; for there is no doubt whatever that loch-fishing
means money. But what has made it so? The same reason that makes all
other things of more or less value--the common law of supply and demand.
Time was, and that not so long ago, when a boatman who used to get 3s.,
or at most 4s. a-day, now gets his 5s. or 6s., and even at the latter
figure does not think himself too well paid. In the extreme north,
however, it is still possible to get a good man for 3s. a-day; and we
know of nothing more enjoyable than a fortnight's loch-fishing amidst
magnificent scenery in some of our northern counties. The expense of
getting there will always be a serious matter; but once there, the
fishing in itself is not dear. The boat is usually got for nothing; the
right of fishing, so far at least as trout are concerned, is free; and
the man's wage and lunch are decidedly cheap. But for a single day on
some of our nearer lochs,--such as Loch Leven, Loch Ard, or Loch
Lomond,--the expenses _are_ heavy, and the angler must always be the
best judge as to the likelihood of the "game being worth the candle."
CHAPTER II.
EQUIPMENT.
This will be a short chapter, as tastes differ so very much, that many
things we might say would most probably be disregarded. But as to some
matters, there can only be one opinion. Do not fish in _light-coloured_
clothes; and, should the weather be wet, do not wear a white macintosh
coat. We believe that the eyesight of a fish is the keenest sense which
it possesses; and, more especially should the day be clear and fine,
there is no doubt that an unusual white object within range of its
vision will make a fish, which might otherwise have taken the fly, turn
tail and flee. A good deal of what we hear spoken of as fish "rising
short," proceeds from this cause. No doubt they rise short sometimes on
seeing the angler himself, but he is much less likely to attract notice
if clad in dark-hued clothing. We know of nothing better for a fishing
rig-out than a suit made from dark Harris tweed--it will almost last a
lifetime, and is a warm and comfortable wear. Thus you will need a dark
macintosh and leggings; and a common sou'wester is, when needed, a very
useful head-gear. A pair of cloth-lined india-rubber gloves will be
found desirable in early spring, when it is quite possible that the
temperature may be low enough for snow. A pair of stout lacing boots,
made with uppers reaching well up the leg, will be found best, as they
protect the feet from getting damp when going into or leaving a boat,
even though one should need to step into the water; and if your
waterproof coat is long, as it should be, the necessity of | 3,162.797651 |
2023-11-16 19:09:46.9259220 | 1,862 | 49 |
Produced by sp1nd and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with
underscores: _italics_.
[Illustration: "It was Rolf in his weapons"]
THE STORY OF ROLF
AND THE VIKING'S BOW
BY
ALLEN FRENCH
AUTHOR OF "THE JUNIOR CUP," "SIR MARROK," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY
BERNARD J. ROSENMEYER
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1918
_Copyright, 1904_,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved_
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
TO MY BROTHER
HOLLIS FRENCH
PREFACE
From thirty to sixty years ago appeared the greater number of the
English translations of the Icelandic sagas. Since then the reading of
these heroic tales has so completely gone out of style that their
names are rarely mentioned in schools or even colleges. What boy feels
his blood stir at the mention of Grettir? How many lovers of good
reading know that the most human of all epics lie untouched on the
shelves of the public libraries? The wisdom of Njal, the chivalry of
Gunnar, the villainy of Mord, the manhood of Kari, the savagery of
Viga-Glum, the craft of Snorri, and the fine qualities of Biarni, of
Biorn, of Skarphedinn, of Illugi, of Kolskegg, of Hrut, of
Blundketil--all these are forgotten in the curious turn of taste which
has made the stories of a wonderful people almost a lost literature.
For the Icelanders were a wonderful people. To escape the tyranny of
kings they settled a new land, and there built up the laws and customs
in which we see the promise of modern civilization. Few early peoples
had such a body of laws; few developed such manhood. No better
pictures of a law-abiding, rural, and yet valiant race have ever been
made than in the tales which the Icelanders had the skill to weave
about their heroes, those men who, at home in their island, or so far
abroad as Constantinople, made the name of Icelander respected.
We read of these men and this people in stories which, somewhat too
"old" for boys and girls, reveal the laws, customs, habits of a
thousand years ago. The Njal's Saga, the Grettir's Saga, the
Ere-Dwellers' Saga, and the Gisli's Saga are perhaps the greatest of
those which have been translated. They are reinforced by such shorter
pieces as Hen Thorir's Saga, and the Stories of the Banded Men, the
Heath-Slayings, Hraffnkell Frey's Priest, and Howard the Halt. The
spirit of those days is particularly well given in that wonderful
fragment of Thorstein Staffsmitten which (not being part of any
complete saga) has been drawn upon for the closing incidents of the
present story. Many other such incidents are preserved, a reference to
one of which (in a footnote to--I think--the Ere-Dwellers' Saga) gave
the suggestion for the main plot of this book. At the same time, in
contemporary writings, we may read of the life of other divisions of
the Scandinavian race; the story nearest to this book is the
Orkneyingers' Saga.
The main interest of all these tales is the same: they tell of real
men and women in real circumstances, and show them human in spite of
the legends which have grown about them. The sagas reveal the
characteristics of our branch of the Aryan race, especially the
personal courage which is so superior to that of the Greek and Latin
races, and which makes the Teutonic epics (whether the Niebelungen
Lied, the Morte Darthur, or the Njala) much more inspiring than the
Iliad, the Odyssey, or the Aeneid.
The prominence of law in almost every one of the Icelandic sagas has
been preserved in the following story; and the conditions of life,
whether at home or abroad, have been described as closely as was
possible within the limits of the simple narrative form which the
sagas customarily employed.
ALLEN FRENCH.
CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS,
_May, 1904_.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. Of the Lighting of the Beacon 1
II. Of the Soursops, and the Curse which Hung on Them 20
III. Kiartan at Cragness 28
IV. Of Einar and Ondott 42
V. The Summoning of Hiarandi 53
VI. Of what Hiarandi should do 59
VII. How Hiarandi received the Lesser Outlawry 64
VIII. Of Schemings 78
IX. Of the Outcome of Ondott's Plottings 91
X. How Rolf named Witnesses for the Death of Hiarandi 101
XI. Of Rolf's Search for One to Surpass Him with the Bow 109
XII. Of the Trial of Skill at Tongue 121
XIII. Of that Robber 129
XIV. How Rolf and Einar summoned each other 145
XV. Of Suits at the Althing 155
XVI. The Act of Distress 166
XVII. Rolf and Frodi fare abroad 175
XVIII. How those Two came into Thraldom 180
XIX. Now Men are Shipwrecked 192
XX. How Rolf won his Freedom 206
XXI. How Rolf won the Viking's Bow 230
XXII. Now Kiartan Returns 253
XXIII. Of the Coming of Earl Thorfinn 271
XXIV. Now Rolf and Grani Quarrel 279
XXV. Here Rolf comes to Cragness 295
XXVI. Of Grani's Pride 313
XXVII. Odd Doings at Cragness 335
XXVIII. Of that Harvest Feast 345
XXIX. Of the Trial of Grani's Pride 369
XXX. Of the Saying of those Two Words 385
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"It was Rolf in his weapons" _Frontispiece_
"'Now Einar dies if my father is hurt'" _Page_ 58
"So tall was she that the vikings could not board her" " 184
"There he sat as if he were still alive, but there was
no sight in his eyes" " 224
"Grani took his sword and his shield, and they stood
up to fight by the spring" " 405
THE STORY OF ROLF
CHAPTER I
OF THE LIGHTING OF THE BEACON
In the time after Iceland had become Christian, and after the burning
of Njal, but before the deaths of Snorri the Priest and Grettir the
Outlaw, there lived at Cragness above Broadfirth a man named Hiarandi,
called the Unlucky. And well was he so named, for he got a poor
inheritance from his father, but he left a poorer to his son.
Now the farm of Cragness was a fertile fell, standing above the land
round about, and girt with crags. Below lay Broadfirth, great and
wide, and Cragness jutted out into it, a danger to ships. It had no
harbor, but a little cove among the rocks, where Hiarandi kept his
boat; and many ships were wrecked on the headland, bringing fortune to
the owners of Cragness, both in goods and firewood. And all the land
about once belonged to the farm. Rich, therefore, would have been the
dwellers at Cragness, but for the doings of Hiarandi's father.
| 3,162.945962 |
2023-11-16 19:09:47.4150160 | 261 | 31 |
Produced by MFR, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
The
Mania of the Nations
on the Planet Mars
and its Terrific Consequences
A Combination of Fun and Wisdom
by
A. CALMADENKER
Published in the Year 55 E.D. on Mars
(1915 A.D. on Earth)
BY THE DENKER PUBLISHERS, INC.
30 CHURCH STREET, NEW YORK
Copyright, 1915
by THE DENKER PUBLISHERS, INC.
THE MANIA OF THE NATIONS ON THE PLANET MARS
Many millions of centuries ago, when the celestial globe on which
we live and struggle started to emerge from the hot-air habit and
commenced to cool down and come to its senses, a huge mass of
syrup-like material sagged down toward the lower end of the cooling
ball and, upon further cooling, formed a high promontory at what we
to-day call the South Pole. As a consequence we now find | 3,163.435056 |
2023-11-16 19:09:47.9283440 | 197 | 11 |
Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, Jens Sadowski, the University
of Minnesota, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net. This book was produced from images
made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.
THE QUAKERS
PAST AND PRESENT
THE QUAKERS
PAST AND PRESENT
BY
DOROTHY M. RICHARDSON
"The Quaker religion... is something which
it is impossible to overpraise."
WILLIAM JAMES:
_The Varieties of Religious
Experience_
NEW YORK
DODGE PUBLISHING COMPANY
214-220 EAST 23RD STREET
FOREWORD
The following chapters are primarily an attempt at showing the position
of the Quakers in the family to which they belong--the family of the
mystics.
In the | 3,163.948384 |
2023-11-16 19:09:47.9801170 | 281 | 69 |
Produced by Albert László, 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)
THE STORY OF MY STRUGGLES
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
ARMINIUS VAMBÉRY:
His Life and Adventures.
Imperial 16mo, cloth, 6s. Boys' Edition, crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt
edges, 5s.
THE STORY OF HUNGARY.
Fully Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth, 5s. (THE STORY OF THE NATIONS
SERIES.)
LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN.
[Illustration: VAMBÉRY AFTER HIS RETURN FROM CENTRAL ASIA.
_Photographed in Teheran, 1863._
_Frontispiece to Vol._ II.]
THE STORY OF MY STRUGGLES
THE MEMOIRS OF ARMINIUS VAMBÉRY
PROFESSOR OF ORIENTAL LANGUAGES
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF BUDAPEST
VOLUME II
[Illustration: Logo]
LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN
PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 1904
(_All rights reserved._)
Contents
CHAPTER VII.
| 3,164.000157 |
2023-11-16 19:09:48.1254700 | 3,421 | 6 |
Produced by Andrew Sly, Al Haines and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
OLD WINE AND NEW:
Occasional Discourses.
BY
THE REV. JOSEPH CROSS, D.D., LL.D.,
AUTHOR OF "EVANGEL," "KNIGHT-BANNERET," "COALS FROM THE ALTAR,"
"PAULINE CHARITY," AND "EDENS OF ITALY."
NEW YORK:
THOMAS WHITTAKER,
2 and 3 Bible House.
1884.
Copyright, 1883,
By JOSEPH CROSS.
Franklin Press:
RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY,
BOSTON.
DEDICATORY EPISTLE.
To THOMAS WHITTAKER, Esq., Publisher, New York.
My Dear Friend: In former times and other lands, when one
wrote a book, he inscribed the volume to some distinguished
personage--a bishop, a baron, a monarch, a magnate in the world of
letters--through whose name it might win its way to popular favor, and
achieve a success hardly to be hoped for from its own merit. Such
overshadowing oaks seemed necessary to shield from sun and storm the
tender undergrowth; and the dew that lay all night upon their branches
the breezy morning shook off in showers of diamonds upon the humbler
herbage at their roots. In an age pre-eminently of self-reliance and a
country characterized no less by personal than political independence,
authors have learned at length to walk alone, marching right into the
heart of the public with no patronage but that of the publisher; and if
a book have not the intrinsic qualities to bear the scorching beams and
freezing blasts of criticism, down it must go amidst the _debris_
of earth's abortive ambitions and ruined hopes. Not so much from
conscious need of help as from high esteem of the noblest personal
qualities, therefore, I beg leave upon this page to couple with my own
a worthier name. Two years ago, when I placed in your trusty hands the
manuscript of Knight-Banneret, I had the least possible idea
of the harvest which might grow from so humble a seed-grain cast into a
very questionable soil. The result was an encouraging disappointment;
and Evangel soon followed, enlarging the horizon of hope; and
Edens of Italy sent a refreshing aroma over all the landscape;
and Coals from the Altar kindled assuring beacon-fires for the
adventurer; and Pauline Charity, supported by Faith and Hope,
walked forth in queenly state. During the publication of these several
productions, so pleasant has been our intercourse--so great your
kindness, candor, courtesy, magnanimity, hospitality, and every other
social virtue--that I look back upon the period as one of the happiest
of my life; and now, at the close of the feast, hoping that our last
bout may be the best, I cordially invite you to share with me Old
Wine and New.
Yours till Paradise,
JOSEPH CROSS
Nov. 1, 1883.
PREFACE.
Dear Reader: In the preface to Pauline Charity, did
not the writer promise thee that volume should be his last? Some months
later, however, at the bottom of the homiletical barrel, he found a few
old acquaintances, in threadbare and tattered guise, smiling
reproachfully out of the dust of an undeserved oblivion. He beckoned
them forth, gave them new garments, and bade them go to the printer.
And lo! here they are--twenty-two of them--in comely array, with
fresh-anointed locks, knocking modestly at thy door.
If any of the former groups from the same family were deemed worthy of
thy hospitality--if any of the twenty-two Evangelists
gladdened thy soul with good tidings--if any of the twenty-two
Knights-Banneret stimulated thy zeal in the holy conflict--if
any of the twenty white-hooded sisters of Charity warmed thy
heart with words of loving kindness--if any of the sixty seraphs,
winged with sunbeams, laid upon thy lips a Coal from the
Altar--if any of the twelve cherubs, fresh from the Edens of
Italy, led thee through pleasant paths to goodly palaces and
blooming arbors--turn not away unheard these twenty-two strangers, but
welcome them graciously to the fellowship of thy house, and perchance
the morrow's dawn may disclose the wings beneath their robes.
But if tempted to discard them as the vagrant offspring of a senile
vanity thrust out to seek their fortune in the world of letters, know
thou that such temptation is of the Father of lies. For not all of
these are thy patriarch's Benjamins--sons of his old age. The leader of
the band is his very Reuben--the beginning of his strength. Another is
his lion-bannered Judah, washing his garments in the blood of grapes.
In another may be recognized his long-lost Joseph, found at last in
Pharaoh's chariot. And several others, peradventure, more ancient than
thy father, though bearing neither gray beard nor wrinkled brow. And
the consciousness of a better ambition than vanity ever inspired
prompts their commission to the public, to speak a word in season to
him that is weary--to comfort the mourners in Zion, giving them beauty
for ashes, the oil of joy for weeping, the garment of praise for the
spirit of heaviness, and filling the vale of Bochim with songs in the
night. Nay, if the mixture of metaphors be not offensive to thy
fastidious rhetoric, these brethren are sent down into Egypt to procure
corn for thee and thy little ones, O Reader! that ye perish not in the
famine of the land.
"Go to! the tropical language is misleading. We open the door to thy
children, and find nothing but a hamper of Wine--twenty-two
bottles--some labelled Old, and others New."
As thou wilt, my gentle critic! Perhaps twenty-two jars of water only.
Yet healthfully clear, and sweet to the taste, it is hoped thou wilt
find the beverage; and if the Lord, present at the feast, but deign to
look at it, thou mayest wonder that the good wine has been kept till
now.
Of Edward Irving, when he died fifty years ago, a London editor wrote:
"He was the one man of our time who more than all others preached his
life and lived his sermons." To preach one's life were hardly
apostolical, though to live one's sermons might be greatly Christian.
At the former the author never aimed; of the latter there is little
danger of his being suspected. Yet this book is in some sort the record
of his personal history. For a farewell gift to the world, he long
contemplated an autobiography--had actually begun the work, written
more than a hundred pages, and sketched a promising outline of the
whole; when, in an hour of indigestion, becoming disgusted, he dropped
the enterprise, and made his manuscript a burnt offering to the
"blues." As a substitute for the failure, these discourses represent
him in the successive stages of his ministry, being arranged in the
chronological order of production and delivery, with dates and
occasions in footnotes--the only autobiography he could produce, the
only one doubtless to be desired. Should grace divine make it in any
measure effectual to the spiritual illumination of those who honor it
with a perusal, he will sing his _Nunc Dimittis_ with thankful
heart, and wait calmly for the day when every faithful worker "shall
have praise of God." Farewell.
J. C.
Feast of All Saints, 1883.
CONTENTS.
Discourse.
I. Filial Hope. 1829
II. Rest for the Weary. 1830
III. My Beloved and Friend. 1833
IV. Refuge in God. 1838
V. Parental Discipline. 1840
VI. Joy of the Law. 1842
VII. Sojourning with God. 1858
VIII. Building for Immortality. 1859
IX. Wail of Bereavement. 1862
X. Wisdom and Weapons. 1863
XI. Love tested. 1866
XII. Manifold Temptations. 1866
XIII. Contest and Coronation. 1866
XIV. Calvary Token. 1866
XV. Heroism Triumphant. 1868
XVI. Fraternal Forgiveness. 1869
XVII. Christ with his Ministers. 1872
XVIII. Kept from Evil. 1873
XIX. Contending for the Faith. 1874
XX. The Fruitless Fig-Tree. 1876
XXI. Christian Contentment. 1883
XXII. "Ye know the Grace." 1883
OLD WINE AND NEW.
I.
FILIAL HOPE.[1]
Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we
shall be; but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him;
for we shall see him as he is.--1 John iii. 2.
"I am to depart, you to remain; but which shall have the happier lot,
who can tell?" So spake Socrates to his friends just before he drank
the fatal hemlock. In all the utterances of the ancient philosophy
there is no sadder word. The uncertainty of the hereafter, the
impenetrable gloom that shrouds the state of the departed, sets the
contemplative soul shivering with mortal dread. Like the expiring
Hobbes, more than two thousand years later, the grand old Athenian felt
himself "taking a leap in the dark." In his case, however, there was
more excuse than in that of the modern unbeliever. The dayspring from
on high had not yet visited mankind. The morning star was still below
the horizon. Four centuries must pass before the rising Sun of
righteousness could bring the perfect day. The Christ came, the true
Light of the world; and life and immortality, dawning from his manger,
culminated upon his sepulchre. Redeeming Love has revealed to us more
of God and man than all the sages of antiquity ever knew; and our
reviving and ascending Redeemer has shed a flood of radiance upon the
grave and whatever lies beyond. In the immortal Christ we have a
sufficient answer to the patriarch's question--"If a man die, shall he
live again?" In his mysteriously constituted personality taking our
nature into union with the Godhead, by his vicarious passion ransoming
that nature, and then rising with it from the dead and returning with
it to heaven, he assures all who believe in him of an actual alliance
with the living God and all the blissful immunities of life eternal.
And thus the apostle's statement becomes the best expression of our
filial hope in Christ: "Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it
doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know that, when he shall
appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is."
The ground of our glorious hope as disciples of Christ is found in our
gracious state as sons of God. But is not this the relation of all men?
Originally it was, but is not now. By creation indeed "we all are his
offspring," but not by adoption and regeneration. Sin has cut off from
that original relation the whole progeny of Adam, and disinherited us
of all its rights and privileges. The paternal likeness is effaced from
the human soul. Alienated from the life of God, men have become
children of the wicked One. Only by restoring grace--"a new creation in
Christ Jesus"--can they regain what they have lost. To effect this,
came forth the Only Begotten from the bosom of the Father, and gave
himself upon the cross a ransom for the sinful race. Whosoever
believeth in him is saved, restored, forgiven, renewed after the image
of his Creator in righteousness and true holiness. Jesus himself
preached to Nicodemus the necessity of this new birth, and "born of
God" is the apostolic description of the mighty transformation. More
than any outward ordinance is here expressed--more than mere morality,
or reformation of life--a clean heart created, a right spirit renewed,
the inception of a higher life whereby the soul becomes partaker of the
Divine Nature. All this, through faith in Christ, by the power of the
Holy Ghost. Now there is reconciliation and amity with God--"an
everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure." More; there is
sympathy, and sweet communion, and joyful co-operation, and spiritual
assimilation, and oneness of will and desire, and free access to the
throne of grace in every time of need. "And because ye are sons, God
hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying--Abba,
Father." "And if children, then heirs--heirs of God, and joint-heirs
with Jesus Christ." And oh! what an inheritance awaits us in the
glorious manifestation of our Lord, when all his saints shall be
glorified together with him! For, "it doth not yet appear what we shall
be; but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for
we shall see him as he is."
Our sonship, you see, is the ground of our hope. Our hope, you will now
see, is worthy of our sonship.
At present, indeed, our glorious destiny is not apparent. By faith we
see it, dim and distant, as through the shepherds' glass; in hope we
wait for it with calm patience, or press toward it with strong desire;
but what it is--"the glory that shall be revealed in us"--we know not,
and cannot know, till mortality shall be swallowed up of life. It is
spiritual; we are carnal. It is heavenly; we are earthly. It is
infinite; we are finite. It is altogether divine: we are but human.
Some of God's artists, as St. Paul and St. John, have given us gorgeous
pictures of it, which we gaze at with shaded eyes; but while we study
them, we cannot help feeling that they fall far short of the copied
original. In our present state, what idea can we form of the condition
of the soul, and the mode of its subsistence, when dislodged from the
body? Nay, what idea can we form of the natural body developing into
the spiritual, and all its rudimental powers unfolding in their
perfection? Or, to speak more accurately and more scripturally, what
idea can we form of the resurrection body, awaking from its long sleep
in the dust, re-organized and re-invested--with new beauties, perhaps
new organs, new senses, new faculties, all glorious in immortality? And
the enfranchised intellect, who can guess the grandeur of its
destiny--what new provinces of thought, new discoveries of truth, new
revelations of science, new disclosures of the mysteries of nature and
of God? And the spirit--the ransomed and purified spirit--who can
imagine what perfection of love, what afflu | 3,164.14551 |
2023-11-16 19:09:48.2269610 | 197 | 7 |
E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, René Anderson Benitz, and
the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
Transcriber's note:
Minor printer's errors have been corrected without note.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected and are
listed at the end of the text.
"Great Writers."
Edited by
Professor Eric S. Robertson, M.A.,
LIFE OF DARWIN.
LIFE OF CHARLES DARWIN
by
G. T. BETTANY
London
Walter Scott
24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row
1887
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Darwin's ancestry; his grandfather, Dr. Erasmus Darwin, a
successful physician, and author of "The Botanic Garden," "The
Temple of Nature," &c.; his father, Robert Waring Darwin, also
a successful physician | 3,164.247001 |
2023-11-16 19:09:48.2285160 | 261 | 64 | Project Gutenberg's Moonbeams From the Larger Lunacy by Stephen Leacock
#4 in our series by Stephen Leacock.
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers.
Please do not remove this.
This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book.
Do not change or edit it without written permission. The words
are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they
need about what they can legally do with the texts.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These Etexts Are Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below, including for donations.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3)
organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541
Title: Moonbeams From the Larger Lunacy
Author: Stephen Leacock
Release Date: May, | 3,164.248556 |
2023-11-16 19:09:48.5713290 | 2,443 | 25 |
Produced by David Widger
SHIP'S COMPANY
By W.W. Jacobs
[Illustration: "Can I 'ave it took off while I eat my bloater, mother?"]
FINE FEATHERS
Mr. Jobson awoke with a Sundayish feeling, probably due to the fact that
it was Bank Holiday. He had been aware, in a dim fashion, of the rising
of Mrs. Jobson some time before, and in a semi-conscious condition had
taken over a large slice of unoccupied territory. He stretched himself
and yawned, and then, by an effort of will, threw off the clothes and
springing out of bed reached for his trousers.
He was an orderly man, and had hung them every night for over twenty
years on the brass knob on his side of the bed. He had hung them there
the night before, and now they had absconded with a pair of red braces
just entering their teens. Instead, on a chair at the foot of the bed
was a collection of garments that made him shudder. With trembling
fingers he turned over a black tailcoat, a white waistcoat, and a pair of
light check trousers. A white shirt, a collar, and tie kept them
company, and, greatest outrage of all, a tall silk hat stood on its own
band-box beside the chair. Mr. Jobson, fingering his bristly chin,
stood: regarding the collection with a wan smile.
"So that's their little game, is it?" he muttered. "Want to make a toff
of me. Where's my clothes got to, I wonder?"
A hasty search satisfied him that they were not in the room, and, pausing
only to drape himself in the counterpane, he made his way into the next.
He passed on to the others, and then, with a growing sense of alarm,
stole softly downstairs and making his way to the shop continued the
search. With the shutters up the place was almost in darkness, and in
spite of his utmost care apples and potatoes rolled on to the floor and
travelled across it in a succession of bumps. Then a sudden turn brought
the scales clattering down.
"Good gracious, Alf!" said a voice. "Whatever are you a-doing of?"
Mr. Jobson turned and eyed his wife, who was standing at the door.
"I'm looking for my clothes, mother," he replied, briefly.
"Clothes!" said Mrs. Jobson, with an obvious attempt at unconcerned
speech. "Clothes! Why, they're on the chair."
"I mean clothes fit for a Christian to wear--fit for a greengrocer to
wear," said Mr. Jobson, raising his voice.
"It was a little surprise for you, dear," said his wife. "Me and Bert
and Gladys and Dorothy 'ave all been saving up for it for ever so long."
"It's very kind of you all," said Mr. Jobson, feebly--"very, but--"
"They've all been doing without things themselves to do it," interjected
his wife. "As for Gladys, I'm sure nobody knows what she's given up."
"Well, if nobody knows, it don't matter," said Mr. Jobson. "As I was
saying, it's very kind of you all, but I can't wear 'em. Where's my
others?"
Mrs. Jobson hesitated.
"Where's my others?" repeated her husband.
"They're being took care of," replied his wife, with spirit. "Aunt
Emma's minding 'em for you--and you know what she is. H'sh! Alf! Alf!
I'm surprised at you!"
Mr. Jobson coughed. "It's the collar, mother," he said at last. "I
ain't wore a collar for over twenty years; not since we was walking out
together. And then I didn't like it."
"More shame for you," said his wife. "I'm sure there's no other
respectable tradesman goes about with a handkerchief knotted round his
neck."
"P'r'aps their skins ain't as tender as what mine is," urged Mr. Jobson;
"and besides, fancy me in a top-'at! Why, I shall be the laughing-stock
of the place."
"Nonsense!" said his wife. "It's only the lower classes what would
laugh, and nobody minds what they think."
Mr. Jobson sighed. "Well, I shall 'ave to go back to bed again, then,"
he said, ruefully. "So long, mother. Hope you have a pleasant time at
the Palace."
He took a reef in the counterpane and with a fair amount of dignity,
considering his appearance, stalked upstairs again and stood gloomily
considering affairs in his bedroom. Ever since Gladys and Dorothy had
been big enough to be objects of interest to the young men of the
neighbourhood the clothes nuisance had been rampant. He peeped through
the window-blind at the bright sunshine outside, and then looked back at
the tumbled bed. A murmur of voices downstairs apprised him that the
conspirators were awaiting the result.
He dressed at last and stood like a lamb--a redfaced, bull-necked lamb--
while Mrs. Jobson fastened his collar for him.
"Bert wanted to get a taller one," she remarked, "but I said this would
do to begin with."
"Wanted it to come over my mouth, I s'pose," said the unfortunate Mr.
Jobson. "Well, 'ave it your own way. Don't mind about me. What with
the trousers and the collar, I couldn't pick up a sovereign if I saw one
in front of me."
"If you see one I'll pick it up for you," said his wife, taking up the
hat and moving towards the door. "Come along!"
Mr. Jobson, with his arms standing out stiffly from his sides and his
head painfully erect, followed her downstairs, and a sudden hush as he
entered the kitchen testified to the effect produced by his appearance.
It was followed by a hum of admiration that sent the blood flying to his
head.
"Why he couldn't have done it before I don't know," said the dutiful
Gladys. "Why, there ain't a man in the street looks a quarter as smart."
"Fits him like a glove!" said Dorothy, walking round him.
"Just the right length," said Bert, scrutinizing the coat.
"And he stands as straight as a soldier," said Gladys, clasping her hands
gleefully.
"Collar," said Mr. Jobson, briefly. "Can I 'ave it took off while I eat
my bloater, mother?"
"Don't be silly, Alf," said his wife. "Gladys, pour your father out a
nice, strong, Pot cup o' tea, and don't forget that the train starts at
ha' past ten."
"It'll start all right when it sees me," observed Mr. Jobson, squinting
down at his trousers.
Mother and children, delighted with the success of their scheme, laughed
applause, and Mr. Jobson somewhat gratified at the success of his retort,
sat down and attacked his breakfast. A short clay pipe, smoked as a
digestive, was impounded by the watchful Mrs. Jobson the moment he had
finished it.
"He'd smoke it along the street if I didn't," she declared.
"And why not?" demanded her husband--always do."
"Not in a top-'at," said Mrs. Jobson, shaking her head at him.
"Or a tail-coat," said Dorothy.
"One would spoil the other," said Gladys.
"I wish something would spoil the hat," said Mr. Jobson, wistfully.
"It's no good; I must smoke, mother."
Mrs. Jobson smiled, and, going to the cupboard, produced, with a smile of
triumph, an envelope containing seven dangerous-looking cigars. Mr.
Jobson whistled, and taking one up examined it carefully.
"What do they call 'em, mother?" he inquired. "The 'Cut and Try Again
Smokes'?"
Mrs. Jobson smiled vaguely. "Me and the girls are going upstairs to get
ready now," she said. "Keep your eye on him, Bert!"
Father and son grinned at each other, and, to pass the time, took a cigar
apiece. They had just finished them when a swish and rustle of skirts
sounded from the stairs, and Mrs. Jobson and the girls, beautifully
attired, entered the room and stood buttoning their gloves. A strong
smell of scent fought with the aroma of the cigars.
"You get round me like, so as to hide me a bit," entreated Mr. Jobson, as
they quitted the house. "I don't mind so much when we get out of our
street."
Mrs. Jobson laughed his fears to scorn.
"Well, cross the road, then," said Mr. Jobson, urgently. "There's Bill
Foley standing at his door."
His wife sniffed. "Let him stand," she said, haughtily.
Mr. Foley failed to avail himself of the permission. He regarded Mr.
Jobson with dilated eyeballs, and, as the party approached, sank slowly
into a sitting position on his doorstep, and as the door opened behind
him rolled slowly over onto his back and presented an enormous pair of
hobnailed soles to the gaze of an interested world.
"I told you 'ow it would be," said the blushing Mr. Jobson. "You know
what Bill's like as well as I do."
His wife tossed her head and they all quickened their pace. The voice of
the ingenious Mr. Foley calling piteously for his mother pursued them to
the end of the road.
"I knew what it 'ud be," said Mr. Jobson, wiping his hot face. "Bill
will never let me 'ear the end of this."
"Nonsense!" said his wife, bridling. "Do you mean to tell me you've got
to ask Bill Foley 'ow you're to dress? He'll soon get tired of it; and,
besides, it's just as well to let him see who you are. There's not many
tradesmen as would lower themselves by mixing with a plasterer."
Mr. Jobson scratched his ear, but wisely refrained from speech. Once
clear of his own district mental agitation subsided, but bodily
discomfort increased at every step. The hat and the collar bothered him
most, but every article of attire contributed its share. His uneasiness
was so manifest that Mrs. Jobson, after a little womanly sympathy,
suggested that, besides Sundays, it might be as well to wear them
occasionally of an evening in order to get used to them.
"What, 'ave I got to wear them every Sunday?" demanded the unfortunate,
blankly; "why, I thought they was only for Bank Holidays."
Mrs. Jobson told | 3,164.591369 |
2023-11-16 19:09:49.6395250 | 2,880 | 10 |
Produced by David Widger
LITERARY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES--My Mark Twain
by William Dean Howells
MY MARK TWAIN
I.
It was in the little office of James T. Fields, over the bookstore of
Ticknor & Fields, at 124 Tremont Street, Boston, that I first met my
friend of now forty-four years, Samuel L. Clemens. Mr. Fields was then
the editor of The Atlantic Monthly, and I was his proud and glad
assistant, with a pretty free hand as to manuscripts, and an unmanacled
command of the book-notices at the end of the magazine. I wrote nearly
all of them myself, and in 1869 I had written rather a long notice of a
book just winning its way to universal favor. In this review I had
intimated my reservations concerning the 'Innocents Abroad', but I had
the luck, if not the sense, to recognize that it was such fun as we had
not had before. I forget just what I said in praise of it, and it does
not matter; it is enough that I praised it enough to satisfy the author.
He now signified as much, and he stamped his gratitude into my memory
with a story wonderfully allegorizing the situation, which the mock
modesty of print forbids my repeating here. Throughout my long
acquaintance with him his graphic touch was always allowing itself a
freedom which I cannot bring my fainter pencil to illustrate. He had the
Southwestern, the Lincolnian, the Elizabethan breadth of parlance, which
I suppose one ought not to call coarse without calling one's self
prudish; and I was often hiding away in discreet holes and corners the
letters in which he had loosed his bold fancy to stoop on rank
suggestion; I could not bear to burn them, and I could not, after the
first reading, quite bear to look at them. I shall best give my feeling
on this point by saying that in it he was Shakespearian, or if his ghost
will not suffer me the word, then he was Baconian.
At the time of our first meeting, which must have been well toward the
winter, Clemens (as I must call him instead of Mark Twain, which seemed
always somehow to mask him from my personal sense) was wearing a sealskin
coat, with the fur out, in the satisfaction of a caprice, or the love of
strong effect which he was apt to indulge through life. I do not know
what droll comment was in Fields's mind with respect to this garment, but
probably he felt that here was an original who was not to be brought to
any Bostonian book in the judgment of his vivid qualities. With his
crest of dense red hair, and the wide sweep of his flaming mustache,
Clemens was not discordantly clothed in that sealskin coat, which
afterward, in spite of his own warmth in it, sent the cold chills through
me when I once accompanied it down Broadway, and shared the immense
publicity it won him. He had always a relish for personal effect, which
expressed itself in the white suit of complete serge which he wore in his
last years, and in the Oxford gown which he put on for every possible
occasion, and said he would like to wear all the time. That was not
vanity in him, but a keen feeling for costume which the severity of our
modern tailoring forbids men, though it flatters women to every excess in
it; yet he also enjoyed the shock, the offence, the pang which it gave
the sensibilities of others. Then there were times he played these
pranks for pure fun, and for the pleasure of the witness. Once I
remember seeing him come into his drawing-room at Hartford in a pair of
white cowskin slippers, with the hair out, and do a crippled
uncle to the joy of all beholders. Or, I must not say all, for I
remember also the dismay of Mrs. Clemens, and her low, despairing cry of,
"Oh, Youth!" That was her name for him among their friends, and it
fitted him as no other would, though I fancied with her it was a
shrinking from his baptismal Samuel, or the vernacular Sam of his earlier
companionships. He was a youth to the end of his days, the heart of a
boy with the head of a sage; the heart of a good boy, or a bad boy, but
always a wilful boy, and wilfulest to show himself out at every time for
just the boy he was.
II.
There is a gap in my recollections of Clemens, which I think is of a year
or two, for the next thing I remember of him is meeting him at a lunch in
Boston, given us by that genius of hospitality, the tragically destined
Ralph Keeler, author of one of the most unjustly forgotten books,
'Vagabond Adventures', a true bit of picaresque autobiography. Keeler
never had any money, to the general knowledge, and he never borrowed, and
he could not have had credit at the restaurant where he invited us to
feast at his expense. There was T. B. Aldrich, there was J. T. Fields,
much the oldest of our company, who had just freed himself from the
trammels of the publishing business, and was feeling his freedom in every
word; there was Bret Harte, who had lately come East in his princely
progress from California; and there was Clemens. Nothing remains to me
of the happy time but a sense of idle and aimless and joyful talk-play,
beginning and ending nowhere, of eager laughter, of countless good
stories from Fields, of a heat-lightning shimmer of wit from Aldrich, of
an occasional concentration of our joint mockeries upon our host, who
took it gladly; and amid the discourse, so little improving, but so full
of good fellowship, Bret Harte's fleeting dramatization of Clemens's
mental attitude toward a symposium of Boston illuminates. "Why,
fellows," he spluttered, "this is the dream of Mark's life," and I
remember the glance from under Clemens's feathery eyebrows which betrayed
his enjoyment of the fun. We had beefsteak with mushrooms, which in
recognition of their shape Aldrich hailed as shoe-pegs, and to crown the
feast we had an omelette souse, which the waiter brought in as flat as a
pancake, amid our shouts of congratulations to poor Keeler, who took them
with appreciative submission. It was in every way what a Boston literary
lunch ought not to have been in the popular ideal which Harte attributed
to Clemens.
Our next meeting was at Hartford, or, rather, at Springfield, where
Clemens greeted us on the way to Hartford. Aldrich was going on to be
his guest, and I was going to be Charles Dudley Warner's, but Clemens had
come part way to welcome us both. In the good fellowship of that cordial
neighborhood we had two such days as the aging sun no longer shines on in
his round. There was constant running in and out of friendly houses
where the lively hosts and guests called one another by their Christian
names or nicknames, and no such vain ceremony as knocking or ringing at
doors. Clemens was then building the stately mansion in which he
satisfied his love of magnificence as if it had been another sealskin
coat, and he was at the crest of the prosperity which enabled him to
humor every whim or extravagance. The house was the design of that most
original artist, Edward Potter, who once, when hard pressed by
incompetent curiosity for the name of his style in a certain church,
proposed that it should be called the English violet order of
architecture; and this house was so absolutely suited to the owner's
humor that I suppose there never was another house like it; but its
character must be for recognition farther along in these reminiscences.
The vividest impression which Clemens gave us two ravenous young Boston
authors was of the satisfying, the surfeiting nature of subscription
publication. An army of agents was overrunning the country with the
prospectuses of his books, and delivering them by the scores of thousands
in completed sale. Of the 'Innocents Abroad' he said, "It sells right
along just like the Bible," and 'Roughing It' was swiftly following,
without perhaps ever quite overtaking it in popularity. But he lectured
Aldrich and me on the folly of that mode of publication in the trade
which we had thought it the highest success to achieve a chance in.
"Anything but subscription publication is printing for private
circulation," he maintained, and he so won upon our greed and hope that
on the way back to Boston we planned the joint authorship of a volume
adapted to subscription publication. We got a very good name for it, as
we believed, in Memorable Murders, and we never got farther with it, but
by the time we reached Boston we were rolling in wealth so deep that we
could hardly walk home in the frugal fashion by which we still thought it
best to spare car fare; carriage fare we did not dream of even in that
opulence.
III.
The visits to Hartford which had begun with this affluence continued
without actual increase of riches for me, but now I went alone, and in
Warner's European and Egyptian absences I formed the habit of going to
Clemens. By this time he was in his new house, where he used to give me
a royal chamber on the ground floor, and come in at night after I had
gone to bed to take off the burglar alarm so that the family should not
be roused if anybody tried to get in at my window. This would be after
we had sat up late, he smoking the last of his innumerable cigars, and
soothing his tense nerves with a mild hot Scotch, while we both talked
and talked and talked, of everything in the heavens and on the earth, and
the waters under the earth. After two days of this talk I would come
away hollow, realizing myself best in the image of one of those
locust-shells which you find sticking to the bark of trees at the end of
summer. Once, after some such bout of brains, we went down to New York
together, and sat facing each other in the Pullman smoker without passing
a syllable till we had occasion to say, "Well, we're there." Then, with
our installation in a now vanished hotel (the old Brunswick, to be
specific), the talk began again with the inspiration of the novel
environment, and went on and on. We wished to be asleep, but we could
not stop, and he lounged through the rooms in the long nightgown which he
always wore in preference to the pajamas which he despised, and told the
story of his life, the inexhaustible, the fairy, the Arabian Nights
story, which I could never tire of even when it began to be told over
again. Or at times he would reason high--
"Of Providence, foreknowledge, will and fate,
Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,"
walking up and down, and halting now and then, with a fine toss and slant
of his shaggy head, as some bold thought or splendid joke struck him.
He was in those days a constant attendant at the church of his great
friend, the Rev. Joseph H. Twichell, and at least tacitly far from the
entire negation he came to at last. I should say he had hardly yet
examined the grounds of his passive acceptance of his wife's belief, for
it was hers and not his, and he held it unscanned in the beautiful and
tender loyalty to her which was the most moving quality of his most
faithful soul. I make bold to speak of the love between them, because
without it I could not make him known to others as he was known to me. It
was a greater part of him than the love of most men for their wives, and
she merited all the worship he could give her, all the devotion, all the
implicit obedience, by her surpassing force and beauty of character. She
was in a way the loveliest person I have ever seen, the gentlest, the
kindest, without a touch of weakness; she united wonderful tact with
wonderful truth; and Clemens not only accepted her rule implicitly, but
he rejoiced, he gloried in it. I am not sure that he noticed all her
goodness in the actions that made it a heavenly vision to others, he so
had the habit of her goodness; but if there was any forlorn and helpless
creature in the room Mrs. Clemens was somehow promptly at his side or
hers; she was always seeking occasion of kindness to those in her
household or out of it; she loved to let her heart go beyond the reach of
her hand, and imagined the whole hard and suffering world with compassion
for its structural as well as incidental wrongs. I suppose she had her
ladyhood limitations, her female fears of etiquette and convention, but | 3,165.659565 |
2023-11-16 19:09:49.8255040 | 1,550 | 23 |
Produced by D Alexander, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
THE DOUBLE FOUR
By E. Phillips Oppenheim
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD
London, New York, Toronto & Melbourne
First published _September 1911_.
_Reprinted October 1911_.
Shilling Edition _April 1913_.
_Reprinted February 1917_.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS
1. THE DESIRE OF MADAME
2. THE AMBASSADOR'S WIFE
3. THE MAN FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT
4. THE FIRST SHOT
5. THE SEVEN SUPPERS OF ANDREA KORUST
6. THE MISSION OF MAJOR KOSUTH
7. THE GHOSTS OF HAVANA HARBOUR
8. AN ALIEN SOCIETY
9. THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN
10. THE THIRTEENTH ENCOUNTER
THE DOUBLE FOUR
CHAPTER I
THE DESIRE OF MADAME
"_It is the desire of Madame that you should join our circle here
on Thursday evening next, at ten o'clock._--SOGRANGE."
The man looked up from the sheet of notepaper which he held in his hand,
and gazed through the open French windows before which he was standing.
It was a very pleasant and very peaceful prospect. There was his croquet
lawn, smooth-shaven, the hoops neatly arranged, the chalk mark firm and
distinct upon the boundary. Beyond, the tennis court, the flower
gardens, and to the left the walled fruit garden. A little farther away
was the paddock and orchard, and a little farther still the farm, which
for the last four years had been the joy of his life. His meadows were
yellow with buttercups; a thin line of willows showed where the brook
wound its lazy way through the bottom fields. It was a home, this, in
which a man could well lead a peaceful life, could dream away his days
to the music of the west wind, the gurgling stream, the song of birds,
and the low murmuring of insects. Peter Ruff stood like a man turned to
stone, for even as he looked these things passed away from before his
eyes, the roar of the world beat in his ears--the world of intrigue, of
crime, the world where the strong man hewed his way to power, and the
weaklings fell like corn before the sickle.
* * * * *
"_It is the desire of Madame!_"
Peter Ruff clenched his fists as he read the words once more. It was a
message from a world every memory of which had been deliberately
crushed--a world, indeed, in which he had seemed no longer to hold any
place. He was Peter Ruff, Esquire, of Aynesford Manor, in the County of
Somerset. It could not be for him, this strange summons.
The rustle of a woman's soft draperies broke in upon his reverie. He
turned round with his usual morning greeting upon his lips. She was,
without doubt, a most beautiful woman: petite, and well moulded, with
the glow of health in her eyes and on her cheeks. She came smiling to
him--a dream of muslin and pink ribbons.
"Another forage bill, my dear Peter?" she demanded, passing her arm
through his. "Put it away and admire my new morning gown. It came
straight from Paris, and you will have to pay a great deal of money for
it."
He pulled himself together--he had no secrets from his wife.
"Listen," he said, and read aloud:
"_Rue de St. Quintaine, Paris._
"DEAR MR. RUFF,--_It is a long time since we had the
pleasure of a visit from you. It is the desire of Madame that you
should join our circle here on Thursday evening next, at ten
o'clock._--SOGRANGE."
Violet was a little perplexed. She failed, somehow, to recognise the
sinister note underlying those few sentences.
"It sounds friendly enough," she remarked. "You are not obliged to go,
of course."
Peter Ruff smiled grimly.
"Yes, it sounds all right," he admitted.
"They won't expect you to take any notice of it, surely?" she continued.
"When you bought this place, Peter, you gave them definitely to
understand that you had retired into private life, that all these things
were finished with you."
"There are some things," Peter Ruff said slowly, "which are never
finished."
"But you resigned," she reminded him. "I remember your letter
distinctly."
"From the Double Four," he answered, "no resignation is recognised save
death. I did what I could, and they accepted my explanations gracefully
and without comment. Now that the time has come, however, when they
need, or think they need, my help, you see they do not hesitate to claim
it."
"You will not go, Peter? You will not think of going?" she begged.
He twisted the letter between his fingers and sat down to his breakfast.
"No," he said, "I shall not go."
* * * * *
That morning Peter Ruff spent upon his farm, looking over his stock,
examining some new machinery, and talking crops with his bailiff. In the
afternoon he played his customary round of golf. It was the sort of day
which, as a rule, he found completely satisfactory, yet, somehow or
other, a certain sense of weariness crept in upon him towards its close.
The agricultural details in which he was accustomed to take so much
interest had fallen a little flat. He even found himself wondering,
after one of his best drives, whether it was well for the mind of a man
to be so utterly engrossed by the flight of that small white ball
towards its destination. More than once lately, despite his half-angry
rejection of them, certain memories, half-wistful, half-tantalising,
from the world of which he now saw so little, had forced their way in
upon his attention. This morning the lines of that brief note seemed to
stand out before him all the time with a curious vividness. In a way he
played the hypocrite to himself. He professed to have found that summons
disturbing and unwelcome, yet his thoughts were continually occupied
with it. He knew well that what would follow was inevitable, but he made
no sign.
Two days later he received another letter. This time it was couched in
different terms. On a square card, at the top of which was stamped a
small coronet, he read as follows:
"_Madame de Maupassim at home, Saturday evening, May 2nd, at ten
o'clock._"
In small letters at the bottom left-hand corner were added the words:
"_To meet friends._"
Peter Ruff put the card upon the fire and went | 3,165.845544 |
2023-11-16 19:09:51.3405050 | 5,778 | 8 |
Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Sue Fleming and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
book was produced from scanned images of public domain
material from the Google Print project.)
THE WORLD BEFORE THEM.
A Novel.
BY
MRS. MOODIE,
AUTHOR OF "ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH."
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
[Illustration]
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1868.
LONDON:
Printed by A. Schulze, 13, Poland Street
THE WORLD BEFORE THEM.
CHAPTER I.
MRS. GILBERT RUSHMERE.
The dinner was so well cooked, and so nicely served, that in spite of
the unusual hour, Mrs. Rowly and her daughter made a very hearty meal.
Mrs. Rushmere's easy chair had been drawn to the head of the table, and
Dorothy sat beside her and carved, Gilbert being unable at present to
cut his own food. Dorothy longed to do it for him, when she observed how
unwillingly his wife performed this necessary service.
"I am a great trouble to you, Sophy," he said; "but directly my arm is
healed, I shall soon learn to help myself, as I have seen others do, who
had met with the same misfortune."
"It is a good thing to have a wife to help you," suggested Mrs. Rowly.
"Yes, but it makes a fellow feel so dependent. He has to submit through
sheer necessity to petticoat government."
"A' don't think that even one arm would make me do that," said Rushmere,
"tho' I believe a' had the best wife in Christendom."
Mrs. Rushmere laughed good-naturedly.
"Oh, Lawrence, men be often under their wives' government, an' as
ignorant of the fact as babies."
"You speak, I suppose, from experience," said Mrs. Gilbert, in her
gentle low voice. "I should have thought the old gentleman a very
difficult person for any wife to manage. I find Gilbert a hard case, in
spite of his one arm."
"There's only one way to rule me, and that's by kindness," returned
Gilbert.
Without meaning it, perhaps, his voice assumed a serious tone, almost
amounting to sadness. He looked up, and his eyes and Dorothy's met;
forcing an appearance of gaiety, he said, "What have you to say on the
subject, Dorothy?"
"I never give an opinion on subjects I know nothing about. I am the only
person in the room who cannot speak from experience. I should think your
plan, however, must be the best."
"It is a pity you have not an opportunity of trying it, Miss, What's
your name," said Mrs. Gilbert, "in which case you might perhaps find out
that kindness can be thrown away."
"I expected to find Dorothy married when I came home," said Gilbert. "I
thought it impossible that the young fellows in the neighbourhood could
suffer her to remain single."
"She waited for you, Gilly, till she found it o' no use," cried Rushmere
passing the bottle to his son.
"Oh that I had waited for her," was the thought that flashed through
Gilbert's mind, charged with a deep regret.
"Father will have his joke," said Dorothy, colouring like a rose,
"without thinking that it may be at the expense of another."
Mrs. Gilbert left off eating, and listened keenly to what was passing.
"Believe me, Gilbert, that there is no one present who congratulates you
more sincerely on your marriage than I do."
"My dear child, will you help me up stairs?" said Mrs. Rushmere,
apprehensive of mischief from her husband's blunt indiscretion and want
of delicacy.
Gilbert rose, and with his left arm supported her to the foot of the
stairs. "Oh, Dorothy," he said, "no wonder that you despise me. God only
knows how I despise myself."
"It is too late to repent now, Gilbert. You must try like me to forget.
You owe it to your wife, as much as to me."
She passed her arm round Mrs. Rushmere's waist, and left Gilbert at the
foot of the stairs. He put the cuff of his empty sleeve to his eyes. Was
it to wipe away a tear?
His wife looked daggers at him, when he returned to the table. His
father proposed a walk round the farm after dinner, an invitation that
Gilbert eagerly accepted, and the mother and daughter were left alone
together.
"We shall have a nice time of it here," said Mrs Gilbert. "Let us go
out, mother, and take a look round the premises. One might as well be in
a prison as confined to this dark, dingy room."
"I can see no garden attached to the place," said Mrs. Rowly, looking
out of the deep bay window which only opened upon the stone-paved court.
"That girl who helped at dinner could tell us all about it."
"Don't call her, mamma, I have a perfect horror of that woman. I am
certain that Gilbert and she have been very intimate. He never took his
eyes off her during dinner."
"You need not be jealous of her, Sophy; I am certain that she cares
nothing for him. You are foolish to trouble your head with any love
affairs he had previous to his marriage."
"But I am sure he cares for her, and I don't mean to play second fiddle
in his father's house to any one but Mrs. Rushmere. If this girl remains
in the house I must quit it."
"And would you like to nurse the sick mother?"
"I hate sick people. Let her hire a nurse."
"She may not be able to do that. I see no indications of wealth here. A
carpetless sanded floor, and furniture old enough to have come out of
the ark. One room which serves for drawing-room, dining-room and
parlour. I dare say these poor people have enough to do to keep
themselves."
"But Gilbert said that his father was rich."
"Pshaw! You see now Gilbert has exaggerated matters."
"But what are we to do? I can't and won't live here."
"Till your debts are paid, you must."
"Oh, dear, I wish I were single again," and Mrs. Gilbert began to cry.
"Sophy, when you were single you were never contented, always lamenting
that you were not married. No one ever asked you to marry until I gave
out that you would have a fortune."
"And what have I gained by that lie?"
"A handsome, honest fellow, if you would only think so. He would not
have been so badly off either, if he had not been forced to sell his
commission to pay your debts. He had a fair chance too, of rising in the
army, if he had not met with that misfortune. I think you very
unreasonable to throw all the blame on him. What now remains for you to
do, is to make yourself agreeable to his parents, and secure a home,
such as it is, for us."
"I can't pretend to like that old man," and Sophy shrugged her
shoulders.
"He's rather an amusing variety of the species," said Mrs. Rowly, "and
the easiest person in the world to cajole. But once more, let me tell
you, Mrs. Gilbert Rushmere, it is no use quarrelling with your bread
and butter. Put on your hat, and let us take a turn in the open air,
perhaps we may chance to meet the gentlemen."
And now they are gone to spy out the nakedness of the land we will tell
our readers a little of their private history, and how the young soldier
was deceived in his fortune-hunting speculation.
Mrs. Rowly was the widow of a custom-house officer, and for many years
lived very comfortably, nay, affluently, upon the spoils which he
gathered illegally in his office. Their only child, Sophia, though very
far from pretty, was a genteel-looking girl, and educated at a
fashionable boarding-school; but just as she arrived at womanhood, the
father was detected in his unlawful pursuits, and so heavily fined, that
it caused his utter ruin, and having incurred heavy debts to keep up an
appearance beyond his station, he ended his days in prison, leaving his
wife and daughter to shift for themselves in the best manner they
could.
With the assistance of a brother, who was in the grocery line of
business, and of whom they had always been ashamed in their more
prosperous days, Mrs. Rowly set up a small boarding-house, in one of the
little cross streets in the Minories, and just contrived to keep her
head above water for several years, until Sophia was turned of
seven-and-twenty. The young lady dressed and flirted, and tried her best
to get a husband, but all her endeavours proved futile.
She was ambitious, too, of marrying a gentleman, and looked down with
contempt upon shopkeepers' assistants, clerks in lawyers' offices, and
mechanics, until the time had nearly slipped by when she could hope,
without fortune, to marry at all.
It was then that her mother, finding herself deeply involved, circulated
the report in her neighbourhood, that Sophy had been left six
thousand pounds on the death of a cousin, a consumptive boy, who could
not reasonably be expected to live many months.
The bait took. Miss Rowly was invited to houses she never before had
hoped to enter; and at a ball, given by the mother of an officer in
Gilbert's regiment, she met the handsome young man, just raised to the
rank of a subaltern, who had so gallantly saved the life of Captain
Fitzmorris.
Though still rather countrified in his appearance, she was instantly
smitten by his frank, free manners, and his fine manly figure. Some
foolish fellow, in the shape of a friend, whispered in Gilbert's ear
that the young lady would have a fortune. In a rash moment, when a
little heated by wine, and won by her soft flatteries, he made her an
offer of marriage. This was instantly accepted, particularly as Gilbert,
boy-like, had boasted of his old ancestral home, and the noble family
from which he was descended. And besides all this, he was an officer in
the army, and likely to rise in his profession, under the patronage of a
wealthy nobleman like Lord Wilton. Miss Rowly was charmed with her
future prospects.
Gilbert proposed to take her down to Hadstone as his wife, directly the
campaign was over. But his charming Sophia was too fearful of losing him
during that indefinite period, and got her mother to propose to him that
they should be married before he left for Spain, and that she would
accompany him abroad.
They were married; but the affectionate bride, when the time for his
departure drew nigh, forgot this part of her promise, and preferred
staying at home with her mother, to encountering all the hardships
attendant upon a soldier's wife, whose husband was on actual service in
a foreign land.
During his absence, Mrs. Gilbert and her mother enjoyed every comfort on
the credit of their supposed fortune; and when he returned sick and
disabled from Spain, he had not been many days at Mrs. Rowly's before he
was arrested for the debts his wife had contracted since their marriage.
It was then that Gilbert discovered what a dupe he had been; that the
woman he had taken to his bosom was a miserable deceiver; and he had to
sell his commission to avoid the horrors of a prison.
After much recrimination and mutual upbraidings on the part of Gilbert
and his wife, they at last came to the conclusion that it was useless to
quarrel over what could no longer be remedied; that it was far better to
sit down calmly and consider what was to be done.
All Mrs. Rowly's furniture had been seized and sold for the benefit of
her creditors, for she was as deeply involved as her daughter.
"Why can't we go home to your father's?" asked Mrs. Rowly. "I am sure
your parents will be glad to see you."
Gilbert had some doubts on that head. He knew how he had deserted them;
and never having received a line from them, to assure him of their
forgiveness, (though this had been his own fault, in omitting to tell
them where and how to direct him,) he was sadly at a loss how to act.
And then he thought of Dorothy, and wondered if she were unmarried, and
living still with the old people. If so, how should he be able to meet
her, and introduce her to the cold selfish woman he had preferred to
her? No, he could not, he dared not go back to Hadstone.
"Why don't you answer, Gilbert?" urged his wife. "What prevents you from
going home?"
"I parted with my father in anger. I am doubtful, for he is an obstinate
man, whether he will be willing to receive us."
"Don't put him to the trial," said Mrs. Rowly. "Let Sophy write, and
tell him we are coming, and start without giving him time to send a
refusal. We must go somewhere; to remain here is impossible, for you
cannot draw your pension for the next six months, and we cannot live
upon air."
Gilbert was terribly perplexed. While pride forbade him to seek an
asylum with his parents, necessity compelled him to do so, and though he
now almost loathed both his wife and her mother, he was too manly to
leave them in distress.
He therefore sold his watch, his sword and regimental suit, to procure
money to prosecute their journey; and when he arrived at Hadstone, he
had only a few shillings left in his purse.
The kind reception he met with cut him to the heart, and the sight of
that beautiful girl, who might have been his, almost maddened him with
grief and remorse.
When he proposed that walk with his father, he fully intended to open
his mind to him, and tell him how he was situated, but shame and pride
kept him tongue tied. Besides, was it not his father's fault that he had
not married the woman he loved; and could he expect an avaricious man to
sympathize with him in the misery he endured, or feel for his present
poverty and degradation. So he walked by his father's side over the
old fields that had witnessed his labours with Dorothy, without saying a
word upon the subject nearest his heart. It was with feelings of inward
disgust that he saw his wife and her mother coming over the heath to
meet them.
CHAPTER II.
HOW PEOPLE ARE TAUGHT TO HATE ONE ANOTHER.
Mrs. Rowly had been chiding her daughter for showing her temper before
her husband's family, pointing out the imprudence of her conduct in such
forcible language, that the young lady had promised to behave more
cautiously for the future.
She greeted Mr. Rushmere with her blandest smile, and, slipping the
little white hand within his arm, told him in her softest voice, "that
he must teach her all about farming, as she did not know wheat from
barley, or a pig from a calf."
"Lord bless your ignorance, my dear. In what part o' the world were you
raised?"
"Oh, I'm a cockney, born within the sound of Bow Bells. What else can
you expect of me? I never was out of London before. I am afraid I shall
rival the renowned citizen, who immortalized himself by finding out that
a cock neighed. I don't think however that I could be quite so foolish
as that."
Old Rushmere was highly flattered by the attention paid to him by his
daughter-in-law. He complimented her upon her sweet little hand and
foot, and told her that he envied Gilbert his pretty wife.
Though, if the truth must be spoken, young Mrs. Rushmere had no beauty
of which to boast, beyond a slight graceful figure, and the small hands
and feet which had attracted the farmer's attention. Her face was
something worse than plain. It was a cold, arrogant, deceitful face,
with harsh, strongly marked features, and a pair of long narrow eyes,
that never looked honestly or openly at any one, reminding you of some
stealthy animal, ever on the watch for a deadly spring.
She loved to say things that she knew would annoy and irritate, in a
cold-blooded contemptuous way, and under those half closed eyelids
lurked any amount of malice and low cunning.
Though weak in intellect and very vain, she was as obstinate as a mule,
and, though moving in a different position from Martha Wood, there was a
great congeniality of disposition between them.
Sophia Rushmere was a petty tyrant. Martha Wood, though less cold and
calculating than her mistress, knew how to rule over her, and make her a
tool and a slave. The pair were well worthy of each other.
Mrs. Rushmere, though simple and natural as a child, had read Sophia's
character at a glance. She looked in that dubious face, and felt that it
was false. She listened to that low, soft studied voice, and was
convinced that the owner could speak in far other and less musical
tones, and she wondered how Gilbert could have taken this artificial
woman in preference to her Dorothy, and the good mother pitied him from
her very heart.
Mrs. Rowly, though sharp and angular, with a ridiculous assumption of
consequence, was not so disagreeable as her daughter. She looked like a
person who could speak her mind, and that in the coarsest and most
decided manner, and carry her point against overwhelming odds, by sheer
pretence and impudence, but she could not conceal, like Sophia, her real
disposition. If she betrayed like Judas for money, it would not be with
a kiss.
"What do you think of my poor Gilbert's wife?" said Mrs. Rushmere to
Dorothy, that afternoon, as the latter sat beside her bed.
"Don't ask me, dear mother. I have no opinion to give."
"He is an unhappy man, Dorothy, as all men deserve to be, who sell
themselves for money. He had better ha' died in yon battle, than tied
himself to that woman."
Dorothy thought so too, but she gave no expression to her thoughts. She
merely remarked, "that the marriage might turn out better than Mrs.
Rushmere expected."
The meeting between Dorothy and her lover had been less painful than she
had anticipated. She no longer regretted the separation which had
occasioned her so much anguish, but fervently thanked God that his
providence had so ordered it, and she knew from the deep sense of
gratitude that overflowed her heart, that it was for the best; that
Gilbert Rushmere, though greatly improved in his appearance and manners,
was not the man to make her happy.
The enlargement of her own mind, and the society of intelligent people,
had made her crave for something higher and better, mentally and
morally, than he could ever bestow. She entertained for him much of the
old sisterly affection which she felt for him when they were boy and
girl, but nothing beyond.
She did not like his wife, but excused the hostility of her manner
towards herself. If she had been made aware of the relation which once
existed between her and Gilbert, she thought it perfectly natural.
Placed in the same situation as Mrs. Gilbert, she might feel a little
jealous of an old love too. In this opinion, Dorothy greatly underrated
the high sense of moral rectitude which actuated her general conduct.
Under the greatest provocation she would have despised herself for
wantonly wounding the feelings of another.
She longed to leave the house, for she dreaded the insolence of Mrs.
Gilbert and her mother; but Mrs. Rushmere had so pathetically entreated
her to stay and nurse her, that she felt that it would be the height of
ingratitude to refuse a last request made by a dying friend, and of one
to whom she owed so much.
She wanted to go and consult Mrs. Martin, who would point out the best
course to pursue in avoiding unpleasant collisions with Gilbert's
friends, but she was kept so fully employed, that no opportunity
presented itself.
In the meanwhile, Martha Wood had not been idle in the kitchen; by the
dint of cajoling and flattering Polly, she had wormed out of her some of
the family secrets, which she lost no time in turning into capital.
When called by her mistress to attend her to her chamber at night, she
came with a face full of importance, as if she had something very
particular to communicate.
"Well, Martha, how have you got through the day?" cried Mrs. Gilbert,
opening her eyes a little wider than usual, as her confidant approached
to undress her.
"Oh, badly enough, ma'am; that Polly Welton is a horrid low creature,
not above six months out of the workhouse."
"You ought to have a fellow feeling for her, Martha," said Mrs. Gilbert
spitefully.
"I was not a workhouse bird, Mrs. Rushmere," returned Martha, swelling
and puffing out her broad cheeks. "You know that well enough. My father
was a gentleman, and I was brought up at a private institution, at his
expense."
"You need not try to fool me about that, Martha. You have attempted
often enough, but it won't go down. Your father might, or might not have
been a gentleman. You were a natural child, and your mother a poor
creature, who got her living on the streets. So no more of your fine
airs to me. What have you been doing with yourself all day?"
"Sitting in the kitchen nursing Jewel," said the girl, with a sulky
scowl.
"You might have been doing something. Why did not you offer to help the
girl wash the dishes?"
"When you are mistress here, I will do what you bid me. I have no call
to wait upon them."
"But they will not keep you for nothing, Martha."
"I don't want them. If you are not satisfied, give me my release and let
me go. I could soon get a better place."
"Nonsense! You must do as I bid you, and see that you help that girl
Polly in her work to-morrow."
"You would not wish me to help her, if you knew all the vile things she
said of you," replied Martha, in an audible aside.
"Of me! What could she say of me? She knows nothing of me or my
affairs."
"She did not say she did. But she said that you were old and ugly, and
not to be compared with Miss Dolly. That you had not a single good
feature in your face. What do you think of the picture?"
"The wretch! But how came she to say all this?"
"Just because I asked her who the plain dark girl was that Mrs. Rushmere
called Dorothy. She fired up, like a vulgar vixen as she is, and
defended her friend by abusing you. I thought we should have come from
words to blows, for I could not sit by and hear my _own_ mistress abused
after that fashion. But if you wish me to help her of course I can."
"I'll tell Gilbert. I'll complain to Mr. Rushmere," sobbed Sophia,
crying for rage. "If he suffers me to be insulted by his servant I'll
leave the house. I've no doubt that Dorothy is at the bottom of it
all--who, and what is she?"
"Some child that Mrs. Rushmere adopted years ago. Polly told me, that it
was for love of her that Mr. Gilbert ran away and listed for a soldier,
because the old man would not give his consent, and this Dorothy refused
to marry him."
Mrs. Gilbert's misery was now complete. She sat down in a chair, with
her fair hair all loose about her shoulders, staring at the incendiary
in a wild vacant manner. At this unfortunate moment, Gilbert entered the
room. Hurrying up to his wife, he demanded the cause of her distress.
"Are you a man, Gilbert Rushmere?" she said, slowing rising and
confronting him, "to allow your wife to be insulted by your father's
menials?"
"How, and in what manner, Sophy?" She repeated the tale of her wrongs as
Martha had told them. Gilbert's eye flashed--he turned them angrily upon
Martha, who was secretly enjoying the mischief she had made.
"Go to your bed, girl, and let me never hear any of this vile tattling
again. It is such stories, carried from one to the other, that ruin the
peace of families."
Martha knew that the arrows she had launched had struck home, and left
the room without a word in her defence.
Gilbert turned sorrowfully to his wife, who was crying violently.
"Sophy, if you will encourage that girl in bringing you tales about
other members of the family, how can we ever live in peace? You know the
imperative necessity of curbing your temper, until I am able in some
way to provide a living for you. Why will you frustrate all my plans for
your comfort by this childish folly?"
"How dare you talk to me, sir, in that strain; when you had the
dastardly cruelty of bringing me down here to live in the same house as
your former mistress?" She rose and stood before him, with her hand
raised in a menacing attitude, and a smile of scorn writhing her lip.
"Good heavens! Sophia, what do you mean?"
"I mean what I say, sir. It is useless for you to deny facts so
apparent. Will you have the assurance to say to me that you do not love
this girl--this Dorothy Chance?"
"The love I _once felt for her_? Certainly not."
"The love you still feel for her?" demanded the angry wife.
"Sophia, I am a married man."
"Yes, sir, I know it to my cost. But that is no answer to my question. I
despise the hypocritical evasion. You know in your heart that you prefer
this woman to your wife."
"You will force me to | 3,167.360545 |
2023-11-16 19:09:51.3405330 | 431 | 12 |
Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE LUSHEI KUKI CLANS
BY
Lt.-COLONEL J. SHAKESPEAR
Published under the orders of the
Government of Eastern Bengal
and Assam
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAP
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1912
Copyright.
Richard Clay and Sons, Limited BRUNSWICK STREET,
STAMFORD STREET, S.E., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK
TO
"THANGLIANA"
Lieut.-Colonel T. H. Lewin
THE FRUITS OF WHOSE LABOURS I WAS PRIVILEGED TO REAP,
AND WHO, AFTER AN ABSENCE OF NEARLY FORTY YEARS,
IS STILL AFFECTIONATELY REMEMBERED BY THE LUSHAIS.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction xiii
Bibliography xvii
Glossary xix
PART I
THE LUSHEI CLANS
CHAPTER I PAGE
General 1
1. Habitat. 2. Appearance and physical characteristics.
3. History. 4. Affinities. 5. Dress. 6. Tattooing.
7. Ornaments. 8. Weapons.
CHAPTER II
Domestic Life 17
1. Occupation. 2. Weights and Measures. 3. Villages.
4. Houses. 5. Furniture. 6. Implements--Agricultural,
Musical, Household. 7. Manufactures--Basket work, Pottery,
Brass work | 3,167.360573 |
2023-11-16 19:09:51.7388590 | 19 | 12 |
Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team | 3,167.758899 |
2023-11-16 19:09:51.7399960 | 3,771 | 10 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: Knox Magee]
WITH RING OF SHIELD
"_On he came, and, to my great surprise and pleasure,
struck he my shield with the sharp point of his lance_.
"_Ah! my brave sons, ye all do know the pleasure 'tis
when, with ring of shield, ye are informed an enemy hath
come to do ye battle_."
BY KNOX MAGEE
_Illustrated by_ F. A. CARTER
GEORGE J. McLEOD
_PUBLISHER ---- TORONTO_
COPYRIGHT, 1900
BY
R. F. FENNO & COMPANY
CONTENTS
I. Sir Frederick Harleston
II. The Maidens
III. A First Brush with the Enemy
IV. The Taking of Berwick
V. From Berwick to Windsor
VI. The King's Gifts
VII. The Ball at the Castle
VIII. The Duel
IX. The King's Death
X. I am Sent to Ludlow
XI. Some Happenings at Windsor
XII. Gloucester Shows his Hand
XIII. The Flight from the Palace
XIV. I Reach Westminster
XV. Michael and Catesby
XVI. My Dangerous Position
XVII. At the Sanctuary
XVIII. Richard Triumphs
XIX. A Message is Sent to Richmond
XX. Before the Tournament
XXI. The Tournament
XXII. A Midnight Adventure
XXIII. The Arrest
XXIV. In the Tower
XXV. Michael and I
XXVI. The House with the Flag
XXVII. The Field of Bosworth
XXVIII. Conclusion
Illustrations
Knox Magee...................... _Frontispiece_
"Both our lances flew into a thousand pieces."
"The signal was then given."
"I am to blame, and I alone should suffer."
"Always remember thy mother and this, her advice."
"Ha, thou blond varmint."
"I climbed wearily to the top."
"Come on, ye pack of cowards."
With Ring of Shield
CHAPTER I
SIR FREDERICK HARLESTON
In these days, when the air is filled with the irritating, peevish
sounds of chattering gossips, which tell of naught but the scandals of
a court, where Queens are as faithless as are their lives brief,
methinks it will not be amiss for me to tell a story of more martial
days, when gossips told of armies marching and great battles fought,
with pointed lance, and with the bright swords' flash, and with the
lusty ring of shield.
Now, my friend Harleston doth contend, that peace and quiet, without
the disturbing clamour of war's dread alarms, do help to improve the
mind, and thus the power of thought is added unto. This, I doubt not,
is correct in the cases of some men; but there are others, to whom
peace and quiet do but bring a lack of their appreciation. I grant
that to such a mind as Harleston's, peaceful and undisturbed meditation
are the fields in which they love to stroll, and pluck, with tender
hand, and thought-bowed head, the most beautiful and most rare of
flowers: but then, such even-balanced brains as his are few and far
between; and even he, so fond of thought and study, did love to dash,
with levelled lance and waving plumes, against the best opponent, and
hurl him from his saddle.
And there is Michael, which ever thinks the same as do myself, and
longs for fresh obstacles to lay his mighty hand upon and crush, as he
would a reed.
It is of those bygone days of struggle and deep intrigue that I now
shall write. I do hope that some of ye--my sons and grandsons--may,
after I am laid to rest, have some worthy obstacles to overcome, in
order that ye may the better enjoy your happiness when it is allotted
unto you. Still do I pray, with my old heart's truest earnestness,
that no one of my blood may have as great trials as I went through; but
in which I had the noble assistance and sympathy of the best friends
ever man was blest with. I shall now tell of my meeting with the first
of these, and later in the tale I shall tell ye of the other.
I, Walter Bradley, then a faithful servant of his Majesty King Edward
IV, was sitting one evening in my room at the palace of the aforesaid
King, at Windsor, engaged in the examination of some of mine arms, to
make sure that my servants had put them all in proper order for our
expedition into Scotland, with the King's brother, the Duke of
Gloucester. A knock came at my door and, upon opening, I beheld Lord
Hastings, then the Chancellor of the Kingdom, and at his side a
gentleman which I had not before seen. This stranger was a man of
splendid physique, about mine own height; long, light brown, waving
hair; blue eyes, that looked me fairly in mine own; sharp features; and
yet, with all his look of unbending will, and proud bearing, he had a
kindly expression in his honest eyes.
"This is my young friend, Sir Frederick Harleston, just now arrived
from Calais," said Hastings, as they both entered at mine invitation,
and he introduced us to each other.
The Chancellor stayed but until he got our conversation running freely,
and then he spoke of some business of state that did demand his
immediate attention, and left us to become better acquainted.
Of course the expedition into Scotland was the chiefest subject of our
conversation; and I learned from Harleston that he too did intend
accompanying the Duke, as the King had that day granted him the desired
permission.
"And what kind of man is Duke Richard?" asked my new acquaintance, when
we had at length discussed the other leaders of our forces.
"Hast thou never seen him?"
"Ay, I have seen him, though I am unknown to him; but I mean what kind
of man is he inwardly, not physically?"
"As for that, I do not care to speak. Thou, no doubt, hast heard of
some of his Royal Highness' acts; men must be judged but by their acts,
and not by the opinions of such an one as I," I replied cautiously; for
I hesitated to express mine own opinion--the which, in this case, was
not the most favourable--to one which I had but just met. Remember, my
dears, those were times in which a silent tongue lived longer than did
a loose one.
Harleston's color heightened, but with a smile, he said:--"Thou art in
the right. 'Twas impertinent of me to ask thee, who know me not, a
question of that sort. I had forgot that this is England, and not
Calais; for there we discuss, freely, the King, as though he were but a
plain man."
The frankness of this man, together with his polite and gentlemanly
speech, made me to feel ashamed of my caution, so I said:--"Duke
Richard hath never been popular with the friends of her Majesty the
Queen; though of late he hath made himself liked better by them, than
he was for many a long day."
"But he is a valiant soldier, is he not?"
"Ay, verily, that he is. He is as brave as the lions upon his banner,
and besides, he knoweth well the properest way in which to distribute
his forces in the field. There it is that the good qualities of
Richard do show up like stars in a deep, dark sky."
"Then the sky is truly black?" asked Sir Frederick, with a smile.
I could not help but laugh at the way I had at last unconsciously
expressed mine opinion of the Duke, after having declined to do so, but
a breathing-space before. I cared not now that I had spoken my mind of
Richard; for the more I looked into the honest face before me, the more
did I trust to his discretion.
Then our conversation changed to the gossip of the court, of which I
told him all. The only part of this in which he showed interest was
when I spoke of the King's health.
"I fear," said he, "that his Majesty's reign is nearing an untimely
end. When a man hath lived the life that the noble Edward hath, and
kept up, with unbated vigor, his licentious habits, even when his body
hath broken down, it doth take but little to blow the candle out. Some
morning we shall awaken to find that Edward IV is dead, and his infant
son is our new king."
"Yes, that is what we must soon expect, for kings must die as well as
subjects; especially, as thou most wisely saidst, kings which insist
upon living a life of three score and ten years in a trifle more than
two score."
"And then God help poor England," said my new acquaintance devoutly.
"Why dost thou take such a pessimistic view of the situation in case of
King Edward's death?" I asked; for the solemn manner in which Harleston
had last spoken strangely thrilled me.
He regarded me thoughtfully whilst one might, with leisure, tell a
score, ere he did answer my question; then he said:--"It hath ever been
a rule of mine, as it evidently is of yours, to not speak mine opinions
unto strangers; but on the contrary to let the other party speak his
mind most freely. I have found this plan to be of exceeding worth in
enabling me to gather most useful information, without a payment in
return."
I felt my face flush red, and I was about to express, in no mild
speech, mine opinion of his action in thus obtaining from me all the
information that I did possess, and then, when I did ask him to explain
the meaning of his own remarks, to thus answer me.
He took no notice of my movement or look, but continued speaking in
that same quiet voice, that never did seem to be disturbed by passion,
and yet had in it something of a force that ever made it to command
attention.
"Many years have I spent in France, and therefore a stranger have I
come to look on as a foreigner. Now that I am returned again unto my
native land methinks that I will let my judgment take the place of mine
old rule, and speak out freely to those whom I take to be honest. Thee
do I place in this class, which I do regret is very small."
I was prodigiously surprised that a stranger would thus speak unto me
as though I were some disinterested outsider of whom he was speaking.
Again did I flush up and commence to attire myself in my dignity; but
Harleston's honest and inoffensive look of candor did again disarm me,
and he continued, uninterrupted, with his speech.
"For several years have I been acquainted with my Lord Hastings, whilst
he was the governor of Calais. From him did I learn much of the
situation here; but never did he speak of the characters of those in
power; for Hastings, though a proper man, is still a politician and, as
such, must keep his opinions to himself. It is a pleasure to me then
to be permitted to thus discuss the probabilities of England's future
with one not bound by the bonds of policy."
I bowed, and he continued:--
"So far as I can see, if the King dies ere the Prince of Wales be old
enough to take full charge of the government, the people shall be
obliged to choose a protector to rule in the young king's stead, until
such time as the child doth come unto years of proper judgment."
"True," I assented.
"Do then but cast thine eye over the congregation of eager applicants
for this seat of power, and thou shalt behold one whose advantage over
the others doth raise him to a vast height above their heads, and
consequently his chances of success in this great competition are
assured; that one can be no other than Richard, Duke of Gloucester."
"Ay, truly, there is no other with sufficient power to rule England, in
case the King should die."
"Now if Gloucester doth come thus into power will he not desire to have
his revenge upon those which have ever been his enemies?"
"'Tis like he will."
"And will not this lead to uprisings throughout the land? Yea," he
continued, "we have had one example of the troubles, and bloody wars
brought about through the King dying and leaving a child to grasp with
its weakly hands the sceptre and the sword of chastisement. Pray God
we do not have another, and yet I fear that it will be unavoidable. I
have expressed mine own poor opinion, without its being prejudiced by
any others' thoughts; see whether I shall be right or wrong."
Now such a view of that which might soon happen had never been taken by
me; and yet I had spent several years at court, and thought myself well
acquainted with all the intrigues and possibilities of court life. And
here was a young man--in fact not older than myself--which had never in
his life lived at court, prophesying as to what the future would bring
forth. His words were indeed bold, and yet I could not deny that they
were reasonable, and liable to be fulfilled.
I now did admire this handsome and thoughtful stranger, and therefore
methought it a duty put upon me to give him some warning that might
serve to keep that well-shaped head, for a little longer space, upon
its broad, square shoulders. I therefore said:--
"Thine opinions, I have a fear, stand in some likelihood of being
proven true; yet do I pray with my full heart that they may be wrong.
However, whether thou art right or wrong--the which time will
prove--let me now warn thee, which art a stranger here, to keep those
thoughts to thyself. There are those about this place--the more's the
pity--whose shoulders are not bent by the weight of honor they carry,
but from their habit of holding their ears to the keyhole."
"Thanks for thy kind intent," he replied. "After I have had some
little experience at court I do hope that I may acquire the habit of
smiling whilst, with my dagger, I kill my partner in the conversation.
This, I have heard, is the fashion of the Duke of Gloucester; and if I
do prove a true prophet all good courtiers must soon adopt it."
That night as Harleston was leaving my room I promised to see him early
in the morning, and show him through the castle and parks.
As we shook hands at the door I felt as though I had known him for
long, and that we had ever been the best of friends.
That, my dears, was how I became acquainted with Sir Frederick
Harleston, who, since that day, hath ever been close by my side,
through many harsh experiences, as well as through many sunny days of
happiness.
Now we are sailing, side by side, down the mighty river, travelled by
all wearing the fleshly habit. The great unknown sea of oblivion is
now near at hand, and soon we shall both cross the bar and sail forth
upon its smooth and peaceful surface.
But there I go passing over sixty years as lightly as a swallow doth
skim the bosom of smooth waters. And indeed the waters o'er which I am
skimming are not smooth, but rough and troubled. Come, come, Sir
Walter, settle down and tell the tale of days before your hair had lost
its raven hue. My head, as ye all know, is now well capped with snow;
but yet the head itself doth still retain a deal of its wonted fire.
CHAPTER II
THE MAIDENS
The next morning after Harleston had come unto my rooms I called at his
apartments to see how he did like the way that he had been placed. I
found him in the act of completing his toilet, and therefore, as he had
not broken his fast, I invited him to come and breakfast with me; which
invitation he did readily accept.
During our meal he asked me many questions as to the manner in which
people conducted themselves at court, to which questions I gave him
very complete answers, so that he might be able to manage without any
breach of etiquette, which thing to do, at Edward's court, was not so
easy as one might imagine.
"Now, in regard to your ladies," said he, "do they insist upon being
worshiped, as do the ones of France, or are they cold and chilling, as
are the fogs of mine almost forgotten native land?"
"Thou shalt have an opportunity for the satisfying | 3,167.760036 |
2023-11-16 19:09:51.9358350 | 3,461 | 33 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
FORGED EGYPTIAN
ANTIQUITIES
------------------------------------------------------------------------
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
AUSTRALASIA THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
205 FLINDERS LANE, MELBOURNE
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA LTD.
ST. MARTIN’S HOUSE, 70 BOND STREET, TORONTO
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY LTD.
MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
309 BOW BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: PLATE 1. A BLUE CANOPIC JAR, WITH ANUBIS HEAD. This is an
imitation of porcelain and shows very well the unevenness of the modern
glaze. Such jars were used to contain the internal organs of the dead
and were placed in the tomb beside the mummy.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FORGED
EGYPTIAN
ANTIQUITIES
BY
T. G. WAKELING
AUTHOR OF “THE WHITE KNIGHTS”
ETC.
[Illustration: Decoration]
ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
4 SOHO SQUARE LONDON
1912
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD
TAVISTOCK STREET COVENT GARDEN
LONDON
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFATORY NOTE
I WISH to express my indebtedness to Mr. and Mrs. Firth, of the Nubian
Archæological Survey, and to Dr. G. A. Reisner, of the Harvard
University Expedition, for their kindness in assisting me.
Plates I, II, XII and XVI were prepared from water-colour drawings made
by Miss Enid Stoddard, but all of the others have been reproduced direct
from the objects themselves.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTORY 1
II. GOLD ORNAMENTS 11
III. LAPIS LAZULI FIGURES AND IRIDESCENT GLASS 27
IV. FIGURES IN WOOD 35
V. STONE FIGURES 45
VI. PORCELAIN FIGURES 61
VII. SCARABS 67
VIII. ALABASTER 95
IX. PORCELAIN, SERPENTINE AND GRANITE 99
X. MUMMIES AND MUMMY CASES 113
XI. A FORGED TOMB 119
XII. THE MAKERS AND SELLERS OF FORGED ANTIQUITIES 125
XIII. EGYPTOLOGISTS 135
REFERENCES 151
INDEX 153
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR
PLATE PAGE
I. A BLUE CANOPIC JAR WITH ANUBIS HEAD Frontispiece
II. NECKLACES AND A BRACELET 24
III. WOODEN USHEBTI FIGURES 33
IV. FUNERARY FIGURES IN WOOD AND PLASTER 40
V. WOODEN ARTICLES 49
VI. STONE AND COMPOSITION FIGURES 56
VII. STONE AND OTHER FIGURES 65
VIII. SCARABS AND AMULETS 72
IX. ALABASTER 97
X. PORCELAIN, WOOD AND GLASS 104
XI. BLUE PORCELAIN 107
XII. PORCELAIN 110
XIII. BLUE PORCELAIN 113
XIV. A PIECE OF MUMMY CASE 120
XV. BEADS AND MUMMY CLOTH 137
XVI. REPRODUCTIONS FOUND IN NUBIA 114
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LIST OF FIGURES
PRINTED IN THE TEXT
PAGE
MODEL OF A FUNERARY CHAMBER; VIEW OF INTERIOR 35
MODEL OF A FUNERARY CHAMBER; COMPLETE OBJECT 37
HORUS HAWK 40
BES 41
FIGURE OF A NUBIAN, MADE OF SLATE 42
SANDSTONE TABLET AND KNEELING FIGURE 54
A WINGED SCARAB AND THE FOUR GENII 94
A SEALED JAR, MADE OF WOOD, AND PAINTED TO 101
REPRESENT STONE; PERIOD, 20TH DYNASTY
A HAWK’S HEAD, THE LID OF A CANOPIC JAR 102
SMALL ROUGH MODEL OF AN IBIS, IN PORCELAIN 106a
HATHOR 106b
JAR MADE OF SERPENTINE 108
THE GODDESS TAURT 112
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FORGED EGYPTIAN
ANTIQUITIES
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
THERE are a great many people in the world who are interested in Egypt,
in its antiquities, and in the unfolding of its pages of ancient
history; a number collect specimens of old Egyptian art, such as
scarabs, pottery, small statues, &c., and others, when in Egypt, buy
them as presents for friends at home.
It is for this numerous class, which is year by year defrauded of large
sums of money by the plausible sellers of forged antiquities, that this
book has been written, for most of them, sooner or later, find out to
their dismay that that which they had thought was a genuine relic of
ancient days, and prized accordingly, is nothing more nor less than a
clever fraud, and, from a collector’s point of view, worthless. The
Egyptologist, museum authority, and expert collector may be safely left
to take care of themselves; a perusal of the following pages might even
prove interesting to them, although it is exceedingly unlikely that the
book contains anything new so far as they are concerned.
The selling of spurious Egyptian antiquities is not confined to Egypt
alone. London, New York, Paris, and even Algiers, are also the
hunting-ground of the makers of imitations, who often make large sums of
money by imposing upon those who do not possess the knowledge requisite
to detect the fraud.
It is interesting to analyse the frame of mind of the people who have
been cheated. As a rule, they are angry, but they are extremely careful
to keep their feelings to themselves. If you inquire, they pooh-pooh the
transaction as one of little moment, and pass it over, although, as I
shall presently show, many pounds may have been lost. But if the
conversation is not changed, and you wait patiently, you will presently
find that under the carefully repressed annoyance runs a vein of genuine
regret that the nice-spoken, honest-looking and plausible Hassan or
Mohammed had cheated them.
The subsequent history of the fraudulent antiquity is often interesting.
As a rule, it is packed up and taken home, to be presented in due course
to some friend with the cautious remark that “perhaps it is genuine.”
Then some day an unfortunate Egyptologist is brought face to face with
it, and he has to make his escape as best he may, with a certain loss of
reputation. I have heard a hostess remark sarcastically that she did not
know what post was held by her victim in the Antiquities Department in
Egypt, but it certainly did not require a clever man to see that hers
was an important antiquity.
There is no more trying moment in an Egyptologist’s life than when,
after a good dinner, while he is feeling at peace with all the world, a
charming hostess brings out an antiquity for him to pass judgment upon.
I have seen men literally squirm, and many are the subterfuges employed
by them to avoid giving an opinion. Woe betide the unhappy expert if a
mischievous friend happens to be there who will lead their hostess on to
ask questions, and who will assure her, despite mute appeals, that her
victim is an expert in the particular branch to which her statue or jar,
as it may be, belongs. And when the Egyptologist is cornered, and
huffily declares to be a forgery the object upon which he is asked to
pass judgment, the lady is, as a rule, angry or hurt; and then it is
that the mischievous friend saves the situation by murmuring, “How
shocking that these Egyptologists should be so jealous!” The straw is
caught, the hostess smiles again, and peace is restored, while the
unfortunate man from Egypt, vowing vengeance, makes his escape.
If a buyer of some specimen wishes an expert opinion upon his purchase,
he usually lays a deep plan. Perhaps he knows a man connected with the
museum, whose opinion is worth having; or, if not, he gets some one to
introduce him. Then, one day, in a casual off-hand kind of way, he
produces his specimen, and explains that he did not buy it as a “real
thing, you know,” but it seemed very clever, and he did not pay much for
it. Inquiries as to how much has been paid are met by “regrets that he
has forgotten—it was so unimportant.” Most probably it was pounds, but
the buyer will seldom or never tell you.
The expert groans, but cannot escape. The clever ones temporise, and
tell tales of the marvellous cleverness of the forgers, and explain that
it is almost impossible to distinguish some forgeries from genuine
antiquities. Then come other stories of how such and such a one was
taken in, and names are mentioned which stand high in the list of
savants. It is assumed by the expert that his friend will never mention
the matter. Then he expresses the opinion that it would be very
difficult to be certain in the case of the specimen under consideration,
that he himself would not like to say definitely, “and you know, my dear
fellow, it has become almost impossible to tell, for these things are
made by the descendants of the men who made the originals.” So the
friendship is preserved, and the subject drifts away into the safe
region of “perhaps and if.”
It does not seem to occur to the general public that so great has been
the demand for antiquities on the part of foreign museums, private
collectors, and learned societies all over the world that the supply may
threaten to give out; that the districts in which the relics lie are
carefully watched; and that the Cairo museum is a jealous guardian. So
important are the links between the past and the present times that
stringent laws have been passed against unauthorised persons taking
genuine and important relics out of the country. Moreover, the enormous
numbers of antiquities sold yearly would require extensive expeditions
to supply the demand, and few of the finds are obtained surreptitiously.
In fact, since the above was written, an even more stringent law has
been passed by the Egyptian Government, which took effect on July 1,
1912. Under this law all finds of examples of the Arts, Sciences,
Literature, Religions, Customs, Industries, &c., will belong to the
State. The definition of the term Antiquities is most comprehensive, and
covers every possible find.
All dealers will now require to have a licence, the export of
antiquities is quite prohibited unless by special permit from the
department responsible, and any attempt to evade this law will be
followed by the confiscation of the objects.
Any one discovering antiquities must notify the Antiquities Department
at once; should the articles found be of a movable nature the finder
will receive half the objects discovered or their value in money.
A licence from the Ministry of Public Works, issued with the consent of
the Director of the Antiquities Department, must be obtained before any
excavation may be undertaken.
This new law is sure to give a great impetus to the manufacture of
forged Egyptian antiquities.
There is indeed a great fascination in possessing jewels, beads,
necklaces, vases, and statues belonging to a people who lived thousands
of years ago, but it is obvious that there must be a limit to the
quantity available. As the supply becomes less, so the prices rise; for
the demand does not fall off, and to-day £30 or £40 will be paid for a
specimen which, a few years ago, would hardly have brought in as many
shillings. The intrinsic value of these antiquities is very little. They
are prized for their association with the past and as evidences of the
advanced state of culture existing in those far-off days.
The love of money has always been a marked characteristic of the
Egyptian, and here the ingenuity of the descendant of the old craftsman
asserts itself. There is no doubt that he has, from time to time, been
assisted by various Europeans, but he is producing replicas of
antiquities, scarabs, figures, models, so cleverly cut and made that it
puzzles many of the best experts to say whether they are false or real.
Some of these imitations are sold for very high prices. If the discovery
of a fraud is made in time, part of the money will sometimes be
refunded.
The Egyptian forger would not consider that he had done anything
particularly dishonest in deceiving a man in that kind of way. His only
regret would be that the fraud had been discovered, and he would muse
upon the unfairness of Fate, for here he had been with a fortune within
his grasp, only to lose it.
Such cases are seldom brought before the courts, for there seems to be a
tacit understanding between the buyer and seller whereby each accepts
his own risk.
Think for a moment what such a transaction means to the Egyptian.
Supposing he got £3000 for certain objects and made £2500 clear profit:
that would mean at least twenty feddans of land, probably more. These
should bring him, if he lets them out for hire, over £200 a year; or, if
he farmed them himself, £600 or £700 a year. It is a perfect craze with
the Egyptians to get rich, and perhaps our forger has been earning a
precarious living for years, receiving in pay the equivalent of a
shilling or two a day. He has always kept in mind the possibility of
making a coup such as I have described. He has worked hard and
cultivated a plausible manner and learned English with this single
object in view. If he is successful, and the fraud is not discovered
until too late, he will occupy a high position in his village and will
live happily, but always with the hope of making a further haul.
To such a pitch has the art of manufacturing imitations been carried
that I propose to give a few of the more common examples, and here I may
say that the morality of dealing in antiquities resembles, to a great
extent, that involved in the buying and selling of horses. If you go to
a respectable and responsible dealer, you pay more, but you are sure
either to get a genuine article or to have your money returned if things
go wrong. But if you go to a horse coper, you buy at your own risk.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER II
GOLD ORNAMENTS
THE making of copies of ancient gold ornaments has been going | 3,167.955875 |
2023-11-16 19:09:51.9384970 | 7,425 | 31 |
Transcribed from the 1852 Burns and Lambert edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
THE JESUITS:
A
CORRESPONDENCE
RELATIVE TO A LECTURE SO ENTITLED,
RECENTLY DELIVERED BEFORE THE
ISLINGTON PROTESTANT INSTITUTE,
BY THE
REV. EDWARD HOARE, M.A.,
_Incumbent of Christ Church_, _Ramsgate_.
* * * * *
“Thus men go wrong with an ingenious skill,
Bend the straight rule to their own crooked will,
And with a clear and shining lamp supplied,
First put it out, then take it for their guide.”
_Cowper’s Progress of Error_.
* * * * *
LONDON:
BURNS AND LAMBERT, 17 PORTMAN STREET,
PORTMAN SQUARE.
1852.
* * * * *
W. Davy and Son, Printers, 8, Gilbert-street, Oxford-street.
* * * * *
INTRODUCTION.
IN a Lecture on the Jesuits, recently delivered before the Islington
Protestant Institute by the Rev. EDWARD HOARE, M.A., Incumbent of Christ
Church, Ramsgate, and since published, there occurs the following passage
with the note subjoined:—“It would not be fair to attach to the Order the
opinions of the individual, unless these can be proved to be fully borne
out and sanctioned by the fixed and authoritative documents of the
Society. Nothing, however, can be clearer, than that the sentiments then
expressed, [_i.e._, alleged to have been expressed on an occasion before
referred to], were those not of the man, but of the Order; for although
there is an exceptive clause inserted in one of the Constitutions, as if
for the relief of unseared consciences, so that the Statute runs thus,
‘Conforming their will to what the Superior wills and thinks in all
things, where it cannot be defined that any kind of sin interferes;’ {3}
yet a little further on there is another section wherein that clause is
wholly nullified, and the original principle boldly asserted. ‘Although
the Society desires that all its Constitutions, &c., should be
undeviatingly observed, according to the Institute, it desires,
nevertheless, that all its members should be secured or at least assisted
against falling into the snare of any sin which may originate from the
force of any such Constitutions or injunctions; therefore, it hath seemed
good to us in the Lord, with the express exception of the vow of
obedience to the Pope for the time being, and the other three fundamental
vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, to declare that no
Constitutions, declarations, or rule of life, can lead to an obligation
to sin, mortal or venial.’ Thus far all is well; what more can be
required? But now mark the next passage. ‘_Unless the Superior may
command them in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ_, _or in virtue of the
vow of obedience_; _and this he may do whenever_, _and to whomsoever_,
_he may judge it conducive either to individual good or to the universal
well-being of the Society_. And in the place of the fear of offence, let
the love and desire of all perfection succeed; that the greater glory and
praise of Christ our Creator and Lord may follow.’ So that the poor
Jesuit may be compelled to commit what he knows to be a mortal sin at the
bidding of his Superior. He may clearly see it to be utterly opposed to
every principle of Scripture; his own conscience may turn from it with
horror; his moral sense may utterly condemn it; he may see clearly that
he is flying in the face of the most High God; but on he must go, because
his Superior bids him; and in order to obtain an object, which the
Superior considers conducive to the interests of the Society, he must
freely consent to have his deepest convictions wholly disregarded, and
his principles of moral rectitude for ever crushed within his soul.” {4}
The present writer is the person alluded to in the note as having
complained of this shocking statement, and stated what is the true
meaning of the Constitution of which it is such an utter perversion.
What he said on the subject forms his portion of the following
correspondence. The publication of the entire correspondence that passed
on the occasion, will, it is hoped, afford Mr. Hoare’s readers the
readiest means of determining for themselves whether the accusation he
has brought is sustainable or not.
The writer may advert here to a consideration which was overlooked in the
course of the correspondence by both Mr. Hoare and himself. From first
to last Mr. Hoare has considered the question simply with reference to
the rules of scholarship; it is believed, however, that the ordinary
principles of scholarship, _i.e._, of classical scholarship, have hardly
any place in the discussion at all, and this for the following
reason:—Christianity having introduced its new and complex
subject-matter, there followed, in matter of fact, what we should
beforehand expect to find, viz., a corresponding modification of the
language which became its organ. Expression had to be found for the mind
of the Church in a medium to which almost all her ideas were foreign and
strange; she had to adapt it to her purpose in her own way; new ideas
provided for themselves new forms of language; words were added, existing
words acquired new meanings and were used in new combinations; and by
this natural process there was brought about in the course of years,
almost as great a difference, as regards idiom, between the Latin of the
Church and the classical Latin, as is observable in the case of any two
modern languages having a common origin. The writer is not a theological
student, and is not saying this from his own knowledge; but he
understands from those who are qualified to speak on the subject, and in
whom he places implicit confidence, that the fact is as he has stated.
So then, possibly “obligatio ad peccatum,” meaning “an obligation binding
under pain of sin,” may displease the classical Latinist, but it is a
term of Theology, and beyond his province. The question is not how _he_
would express that meaning in Latin, but how he should construe a
particular phrase which he finds Theologians have adopted. It is used by
Catholic {7} and Protestant writers alike, and must be understood as they
understand it. Its use by St. Alphonso was but very lately brought into
prominent view: a writer in the _Dublin Review_ for October last, had
occasion to animadvert on a Protestant author’s having translated these
words of St. Alphonso, “nullo jure obligante ad mortale,” thus—“by no law
that is obligatory,” and so having omitted to render the important words
“ad mortale.” It appears from a reply by the Protestant author, that
“the misprint,” as he calls it, was corrected in a second edition of his
work; but that the phrase meant “obligatory under pain of mortal sin,”
was admitted on all hands; and this was in a most adverse quarter.
It will be seen that for so much of the note extracted above as follows
the Latin quotation, Mr. Hoare is not responsible; it was added, through
mistake, by another gentleman. The circumstance will account for a
contrariety of statement to be observed with reference to Const., part
iv, chap, i, but which does not call for more particular notice.
It is said, with some ambiguity, “that the version thus excepted against
is by no means an exclusively Protestant one, but has been adopted by
most competent Roman Catholic authorities;” and Dr. Wordsworth’s work
seems to be referred to in behalf of the statement. It will be found,
however, that the “historical research” of that writer has only enabled
him to adduce the instance of Stephen Pasquier, who is said to have given
the version in a speech which he made as an advocate in a cause, in which
the Jesuits were his opponents. In the _Biographie Universelle_, Stephen
Pasquier is spoken of as “un homme passioné,” and “en titre adversaire
des Jesuites.” {8}
With Mr. Hoare’s Lecture as a whole, the writer is not concerned: the
friend, a Protestant, who kindly directed his attention to the single
statement which he has exposed, informed him at the same time that there
was little besides in the lecture that seemed to him to call for notice;
a cursory glance over its pages has satisfied the writer of the
correctness of that view; and statements which few, surely, can believe,
will, he trusts, produce in the minds of readers an effect the very
reverse of that intended.
CORRESPONDENCE.
12, Manor Road, Upper Holloway,
Feast of the Immaculate Conception, 1851.
My dear Sir,
I will not make an acquaintance so slight as ours with each other my
excuse for this letter, but rather hope that my object in writing
it—viz., the removal of a very great misapprehension—will, of itself,
prevent your regarding it as an intrusion. A friend of mine, a
protestant, was present at the lecture which you recently delivered in
Islington on the Jesuits, and I learn from him that you stated, that, by
the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, the members of the society may
actually be commanded by their Superiors to commit mortal sin. I do not
understand from my friend that you cited any passage from the
Constitutions in support of this fearful statement: I venture to think it
most likely that you were content to make it on the authority of some,
perhaps, respectable name, but, as not doubting its correctness, without
referring to the Constitutions to verify it. I believe the passage on
which the statement has been made to rest is to be found in Const. part
vi., chap. 5, which Dr. Wordsworth and others have construed to mean what
you say: Dr. Wordsworth having altered the text for the purpose.
Now I confidently submit that the true version of that passage is—The
Constitutions do not bind under pain of mortal or venial sin, unless the
Superior commands the observance of them in the name of our Lord Jesus
Christ, &c.
May I not fairly hope that you will look into the matter? I make the
request for truth’s sake and charity’s sake. Some of the lectures
delivered before the Islington Protestant Institute are, I know,
afterwards published; two delivered by you have been published; I feel
sure that I shall not have the pain of seeing this last go forth with the
statement, which I have thus taken the liberty of asking you to
reconsider, uncorrected.
I am, my dear Sir,
Yours faithfully,
HENRY WALLER.
Rev. Edward Hoare.
* * * * *
Ramsgate,
Dec. 11, 1851.
My dear Sir,
You need make no apology for writing to me on the subject of my lecture,
and I am much obliged to you for so doing, as I cordially desire to
elicit truth and _nothing else_. The passage which I quoted was, as you
suppose, the 5th chap. of the 6th part of the Constitutions, and my
authority is an edition of the Constitutions published by Rivington in
1838, which I have compared since your note with the extracts given in
Taylor’s Loyola, who has evidently used another edition, though differing
in no essential particular.
I have also carefully examined the passage with your exposition before
me, and submitted it to some of the best scholars that I know; but I
confess myself quite at a loss to translate the words in the original so
as to force upon them the meaning which you think they are intended to
convey. Surely the expression, “Obligationem ad peccatum mortale vel
veniale inducere,” makes sin the object of the obligation, and does not
merely describe the character of the fault. If the words were, _peccati
mortalis_, _&c._, instead of “ad peccatum, &c.,” I think that the passage
would have borne your interpretation, but as it stands, I must still
believe that the version which I gave of it was correct. I cannot
therefore expunge it from my lecture; but as I sincerely desire to make
no false charge against an opponent, I will subjoin the Latin copy, so
that any scholars may be able to decide as to the merits of the question.
I cannot close my note without adding the expression of my deep and
heartfelt sorrow that you have been led to abandon the truth in which you
were trained, for the, as I believe, unscriptural system of the Church of
Rome. Putting all other considerations out of the question, it is enough
to my mind to condemn the whole system when I find it adopting the
company of Jesuits, of whose morality and mischievous intrigues it had
already had, according to Clement XIV., such mournful experience.
Earnestly hoping that the Lord may guide you into the way of truth,
I remain, dear Sir,
Very faithfully yours,
EDWARD HOARE.
H. Waller, Esq.
* * * * *
8, New Square, Lincoln’s Inn,
Dec. 1851.
My dear Sir,
I have to thank you for the manner in which you have received my
communication, but I am sorry to find that, contrary to my expectation, a
simple reference to the original text of the Constitutions has not
sufficed to show you that the version for which you contend is, as I
still believe I shall be able to convince you, founded in
misapprehension. I attribute to you—I am bound to attribute to you a
_wish_ to see it satisfactorily proved, that the passage has not the
dreadful sense which has been given it, and which you assign to it simply
because it seems to you unavoidable. I cannot think, then, that I have a
difficult task to accomplish.
In several places in the Constitutions the expressions, “obligatio ad
peccatum,” “obligatio peccati,” and “obligatio sub pœnâ peccati,” are
used indifferently, as equivalent to one another. Thus, the title of
cap. v., pars vi., itself is, “Quod Constitutiones peccati obligationem
non inducunt;” obviously the same thing must be meant as by, “obligatio
ad peccatum,” in the chapter itself. Now you admit that, “obligatio
peccati” has the same meaning as “obligatio sub pœnâ peccati;” surely
then “obligatio ad peccatum” has the same meaning too.
In pars ix., c. v., § 6, the following passage occurs: “si non compulerit
talis obedientia Summi Pontificis, _quæ ad peccatum obligare posset_;”
even in the translation which accompanies the edition of the
Constitutions to which you have referred me, this is rendered, “unless
such obedience to the Pope, as is _compulsive under the penalty of sin_,
oblige him, &c.” What could have led the translator to put a different
meaning on the same expression in the passage we are discussing, I cannot
conceive, except I impute it to prejudice.
I do not deny that _obligare ad aliquid_ frequently means _to oblige a
person to do something_; but I deny that it does or, construed with all
the context, _can_ mean this in the particular passage. I would beg you
to consider the whole chapter, which, I really must say, is turned, not
only into something fearful, but into something quite absurd by the
construction you give it. Only reflect on the frightful incongruity of
any one commanding another to commit sin in the name of our Lord Jesus
Christ, and of the person of whom this is required complying through love
and a desire of all perfection. I hope you will say that this had
escaped your notice, not tell me that to urge it is begging the question.
Pray read the entire chapter in accordance with the version Catholics
give of the passage in question, (if that is to be called a version which
simply declares its meaning,) and I still entertain a hope that you will
discover its excellent purport and intention.
I may observe, though I do so with some diffidence, as I have almost
forgotten my grammar, that in order to make the passage bear the sense
which you put on it, the pronoun “ea” should be, not in the plural but
the singular, as I presume you refer it to “peccatum mortale vel
veniale,” which is disjunctive; and then should be, not _id_ but _hoc_.
I find that many Protestant writers have repudiated, or at least not
adopted, the bad meaning. Thus, Steinmetz in his Novitiate says: “Part
vi., c. 5.—Where it is decided, that the guilt of sin attached to
disobedience when the superior commands in the name of our Lord Jesus
Christ, or in virtue of obedience.”—_Novitiate_, p. 98, 2nd ed. 1847.
And in his History of the Jesuits, he does not, so far as I have been
able to find, say anything different.
I might say more in vindication of the Constitutions of the Jesuits, but
I think I have said enough to justify an expectation that you will be
convinced of the incorrectness of your statement.
As to what you say at the end of your letter, permit me to remark, that I
abandoned no positive doctrine [in which I had been trained], in
embracing the Catholic faith; and as to the hope which you very kindly
express, that the Lord may guide me into the way of truth, I must tell
you that when God led me in a remarkable manner into His Church, which is
“the ground and pillar of the truth,” He put me on that way, and that it
“is the way,” {14} I have an internal and external assurance which, I
know, cannot be had in protestantism.
I remain, my dear Sir,
Yours faithfully,
HENRY WALLER.
Rev. Edward Hoare.
* * * * *
Ramsgate,
Dec. 22, 1851.
My dear Sir,
I thank you very much for your full communication, and I fear that you
will think me very much prejudiced when I state that whatever were the
intention of the writer, I still think that the version which I have
given is most in accordance with the Latin.
With reference to your criticisms, I have read the constitutions
carefully, and I cannot agree with you that the expressions “obligatio ad
peccatum”—“peccati”—and “sub pœnâ peccati”—are used indifferently in any
other portion of the book, unless it be the extract quoted by you from
the 9th part. This appears to me a very important extract, and is the
only thing which has at all shaken my opinion. I am, however,
exceedingly doubtful whether the translator has given its true meaning,
while at the same time I fully admit that his having so translated it is
a strong and valid argument in favour of your interpretation.
With reference to your two other points, I certainly think that the words
“obligatio peccati” might include either sense; so that the utmost that
can be gathered from the heading is that as far as it is concerned the
section may bear the harmless sense, but whether it does or not must be
decided by the contents.
I had noticed the “ea” before you mentioned it, and you will perhaps be
surprised at hearing that it failed to carry conviction to my mind. It
does not agree with peccatum, but what does it agree with unless it be
with “Constitutiones, &c.”; and if it does, the meaning is not at all
altered, as it is the “vis constitutionum” by which the Jesuit is to be
drawn “in Iaqueum peccati.”
Then again, if this be the meaning of the passage, it appears to me very
strange that it should be placed just after the chapter on obedience, in
the middle of the Constitutions, and not at the commencement or close of
the book. It certainly is a very extraordinary place for it, if it
really describes the obligatory force of the whole code.
On the whole, therefore, I confess myself very much at a loss upon the
subject, and am inclined to think that very possibly it may be understood
by members of the Society in the sense in which you apply it, while on
the other hand I am thoroughly convinced that the majority of Latin
scholars would translate it as I did in my lecture. I cannot therefore
withdraw it, because I am not prepared to acknowledge any inaccuracy in
my version; but I will subjoin the Latin, and add the reference from the
9th Part, so that the matter may be fairly presented to the reader.
Once more thanking you for your communication, and deeply regretting our
difference of opinion on the great questions affecting Christian truth,
I remain, dear Sir,
Very faithfully yours,
EDWARD HOARE.
H. Waller, Esq.
* * * * *
8, New Square, Lincoln’s Inn,
Jan. 2nd, 1852.
My dear Sir,
The festivals of this holy season have not left me leisure to reply to
your letter as I ought, until now, and deeply I regret that it should not
have called for a different answer from this. When I wrote last, I
submitted for your consideration, not all that occurred to me in behalf
of the true meaning of the Constitution, but so much as it seemed to me
might be urged without implying a misgiving as to the charity and
fairness of mind of the person to whom it should be addressed,—a
misgiving I am unwilling to entertain with regard to you or any one. But
it is, I confess, with greatly diminished confidence as to the result of
what I shall say, that I now proceed to add to what I have said already.
When you say that whatever were the intention of the writer, you think
the version you have given of the passage is most in accordance with the
Latin, and that though very possibly it may be differently understood by
members of the Society, you are convinced that the majority of Latin
scholars would translate it as you do, you surely forget that the
question we are concerned with is, not one of scholarship, not one of
mere words, but simply a question of fact,—What is the Constitution? The
question is precisely, What did the founder mean, what do the members
understand? What he meant, and what they understand, that the
Constitution is and nothing else.
However, as a mere question of Latin I should have no reason to fear the
result of an appeal to scholars, for those to whom I have submitted it,
two Oxford men and a Cambridge man, and all Protestants, agree in
construing the passage as I do; on the other hand, I suppose I may safely
assert that you cannot produce any Catholic authority for the correctness
of your version—not even Pascal.
But supposing the words capable of receiving the sense which you impute
to them, surely you are not therefore justified in making your statement,
if, as you seem to allow, another and an unexceptionable meaning is also
admissible. Ambiguity, in some degree or other, is a property of all
language, even of inspired language; the fact does not leave us at
liberty to choose which of several possible meanings we will, but obliges
us to have recourse to recognised principles of construction, to
ascertain the determinate meaning of the author.
Every fair principle of interpretation with which I am acquainted seems
to me to be disregarded in your translation.
Here, then, I will cite a passage from a work of the greatest authority,
Rodriguez on Christian Perfection: Rodriguez was himself a Jesuit, and
speaks thus of the Constitution in question: first there is this heading,
“That though our rules do not oblige under penalty of sin, yet
nevertheless we ought exactly to observe them”; and then he proceeds,
“Our Rules and Constitutions,” he is speaking of the Society of Jesus,
“do not oblige us under pain of mortal sin, nor even of venial, no more
than the commands of our Superiors, unless it be, as our Constitutions
declare, when they command on God’s part or by virtue of holy obedience.
Yet we ought to take heed, lest for this reason we come to neglect them,
&c. Our holy founder would not on the one side bind us so fast as might
give us an occasion of sin, and on the other, being desirous to move us
to an exact observance of them, with all possible perfection, he gives us
this wholesome advice. _Let the love of God_, says he, _succeed in the
place of the fear of offending __him_, _and let it be the desire of your
greater perfection_, _and the greater glory of God_, _that moves us to
perform your duty herein_. He says also, in the beginning of our Rules
and Constitutions, that the interior law of charity, which the Holy Ghost
has writ in our hearts, ought to move us to an exact observance of them.”
(Third Part, Treat. 6, chap, iii, p. 350, ed. Lond., 1699.)
How are we ever to arrive at the sense of a document, if we are not to be
guided by the understanding of those whose position enables them to speak
with most knowledge of its subject-matter, [intention, and end]? Ask the
meaning of the chapter in whatever quarter of the Church you will, and
but one reply will be made.
I cannot at all agree with you, that having this meaning the chapter is
misplaced; on the contrary, I know not where a more fit place could be
found for it.
Since you are doubtful as to the meaning of “obligare ad peccatum” in the
place to which I have referred you, I can hardly hope that you will look
more favourably upon the expression in two other places in which it
occurs, viz.,—Pars. ix, cap. iv, § 5, and cap. v, § 6. But I have to
submit to you the following sentence from the Protestant Bishop
Sanderson’s Prælectiones: “omnis enim obligatio aut ad culpam est aut ad
pœnam, vel etiam utramque.” (Præl. vi, p. 154, ed. Lond., 1686.) I
shall never be induced to give this a bad meaning.
I imagined that you referred the pronoun “ea” to “peccatum mortale vel
veniale,” because I found that Dr. Wordsworth did so in rendering the
passage as you do; he, with much cleverness, altered _ea_ into _id_.
I regret the length to which my letter has extended; I had indeed hoped
that our correspondence by this time would have been brought to a more
agreeable issue.
With reference to an expression at the conclusion of your letter, I must
protest against your supposing that the Catholic faith is simply
commensurate with our judgments, like Protestantism, and has no surer
basis than opinion.
I remain, my dear Sir,
Yours faithfully,
HENRY WALLER.
Rev. Edward Hoare.
* * * * *
Ramsgate,
January 5, 1852.
My dear Sir,
I am sorry that you do not think me candid in the consideration of the
Constitution, for I have heartily desired to ascertain the truth, and
perhaps you will allow me to suggest that where there is a difference of
opinion it is scarcely fair to attribute it to want of fairness of mind
in the discussion.
The fact is, that I have given the subject much anxious study, and you
will perhaps be surprised when I tell you, that my opinion is less shaken
than it was when I wrote last, so that when I had to revise the proof I
erased a part of the note that I had previously written, and have now
simply stated your opinion and added the Latin.
With reference to your last letter I think that you can scarcely have
referred to the two passages which you mention as containing the
expression—“obligatio ad peccatum;” for in the one (ix, iv, 5.) the words
are—“sub pœnâ peccati,” and the other (ix, v, 6.) is the very one already
under discussion.
I have not the edition of Bishop Sanderson to which you refer, but if you
think it worth while to let me know the prelection in which the words
occur, I will endeavour to examine them, though I am not sure I shall be
able, as I have not all of them within reach.
I cannot imagine what I should have said which has led to the idea—“that
the Catholic faith is commensurate with our judgments, and has no surer
basis than opinion;” the basis of the Gospel is the revealed word of God,
and that remains the same whatever be man’s opinion.
I remain, dear Sir,
Very faithfully yours,
EDWARD HOARE.
H. Waller, Esq.
* * * * *
8, New Square, Lincoln’s Inn,
January 8, 1852.
My dear Sir,
I greatly regret my carelessness in having given you such faulty
references. Instead of referring to the _Constitutions_, part ix, c. iv,
§ 8, and c. v, § 6, I should have referred to the _Declarations_
corresponding to those passages. In the first passage, where the
Constitutions have, as you say, “obligando sub pœnâ peccati,” the
corresponding declaration says, “nec Societas approbabit, si Pontifex
præcepto quod ad peccatum obliget, non compelleret.” As to part ix, c.
v, § 6, to which I referred you in a previous letter, I find that the
declaration has the same expression as the Constitution. There is still
another place in the Constitutions in which “ad peccatum obligare”
occurs, viz., pars vi, cap. iii, § 8, and here it is again correctly
rendered in the translation published by Rivington; thus the author of
that translation has twice given the phrase its true meaning. In the
declaration on the Examen Generale the expression also occurs,—“obligatio
vera dicendi in examine, ad peccatum esse debet,” (cap. iii, § 1.) and
the meaning is plain. I have quoted from the Prague edition of 1757. I
am aware that the edition published by Rivington does not contain the
declarations.
My reference for the sentence out of Sanderson might have been more
complete. It is to be found in the Prælectiones de Conscientiæ
Obligatione, præl. vi, § 6, p. 156 of the ed. Lond. 1696; the sentence is
a parenthesis and independent of the context:—“Nemo potest jure obligari
ad id faciendum, cujus omissio non potest ei imputari ad culpam nec debet
ei imputari ad pœnam; (omnis enim obligatio aut ad culpam est aut ad
pœnam, vel etiam utramque) sed rei impossibilis omissio non potest alicui
imputari ad culpam.” I have found the same expression in the other work
of Sanderson, De Juramenti Obligatione. I must beg you to excuse the
length of the following extract:—“Præter illam obligationis distinctionem
ex origne natam, per respectum ad Jus unde oritur obligatio: est et alia
ab objecto sumpta per respectum scil. ad debitum solvendum, quo tendit et
in quod fertur obligatio. Duplex autem est debitum. Debitum officii,
quod quis ex præcepto juris tenetur facere: et Debitum supplicii, quod
quis ex sanctione juris tenetur pati, si officium suum neglexerit.
Priori sensu dicimus mutua caritatis officia esse debita, quia lex Dei
illa præcipit, juxta illud, Rom. xiii. _Nihil cuiquam debete_, _nisi ut
diligatis invicem_. Posteriori sensu dicimus peccata esse debita ut in
oratione Dominica, _Dimitte nobis_, &c. et mortem æternam esse debitam,
juxta illud, Rom. vi. _Stipendium peccati mors_. Observandum tamen
debitum posterius contrahi ex insoluto priori: ita ut siquis Debitum
offici | 3,167.958537 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.0393140 | 291 | 8 |
Produced by Patricia C. Franks, Lisa Carter, Danette Dulny,
Charles Duvall, Cheri Ripley, and Cheryl Sullivan
BIRDS AND BEES
SHARP EYES
AND OTHER PAPERS
By John Burroughs
With An Introduction
By Mary E. Burt
And A Biographical Sketch
CONTENTS
Biographical Sketch
Introduction By Mary E. Burt
Birds
Bird Enemies
The Tragedies of the Nests
Bees
An Idyl of the Honey-Bee
The Pastoral Bees
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.
Nature chose the spring of the year for the time of John Burroughs's
birth. A little before the day when the wake-robin shows itself, that
the observer might be on hand for the sight, he was born in Roxbury,
Delaware County, New York, on the western borders of the Catskill
Mountains; the precise date was April 3, 1837. Until 1863 he remained
in the country about his native place, working on his father's farm,
getting his schooling in the district school and neighboring academies,
and taking his turn also as teacher. As he himself has hinted, the
originality, freshness, and wholesomeness of his writings are probably
due in great measure to the unliterary surroundings of | 3,168.059354 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.1382490 | 261 | 7 |
Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE BISHOP’S APRON
THE BISHOP’S APRON
A STUDY IN THE ORIGINS
OF A GREAT FAMILY
BY
W. S. MAUGHAM
AUTHOR OF “LIZA OF LAMBETH,” “MRS. CRADDOCK,”
“THE MERRY-GO-ROUND”
LONDON
CHAPMAN AND HALL, LTD.
1906
THE BISHOP’S APRON
I
The world takes people very willingly at the estimate in which they hold
themselves. With a fashionable bias for expression in a foreign tongue
it calls modesty _mauvaise honte_; and the impudent are thought merely
to have a proper opinion of their merit. But Ponsonby was really an
imposing personage. His movements were measured and noiseless; and he
wore the sombre garb of a gentleman’s butler with impressive dignity. He
was a large man, flabby and corpulent, with a loose, smooth skin. His
face, undisturbed by the rapid | 3,168.158289 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.1383290 | 77 | 15 |
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
Archaic and variable spelling, as well as inconsistency in hyphenation,
has been preserved as printed in the original book.
[Illustration: "Oh, Josiah," sez I, "what a sight!"--_Front | 3,168.158369 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.1399350 | 1,305 | 11 |
Produced by Don Lainson
SPRINGHAVEN:
A Tale of the Great War
By R. D. Blackmore
1887
CHAPTER I
WHEN THE SHIP COMES HOME
In the days when England trusted mainly to the vigor and valor of one
man, against a world of enemies, no part of her coast was in greater
peril than the fair vale of Springhaven. But lying to the west of the
narrow seas, and the shouts both of menace and vigilance, the quiet
little village in the tranquil valley forbore to be uneasy.
For the nature of the place and race, since time has outlived memory,
continually has been, and must be, to let the world pass easily. Little
to talk of, and nothing to do, is the healthy condition of mankind just
there. To all who love repose and shelter, freedom from the cares of
money and the cark of fashion, and (in lieu of these) refreshing air,
bright water, and green country, there is scarcely any valley left to
compare with that of Springhaven. This valley does not interrupt the
land, but comes in as a pleasant relief to it. No glaring chalk, no
grim sandstone, no rugged flint, outface it; but deep rich meadows, and
foliage thick, and cool arcades of ancient trees, defy the noise that
men make. And above the trees, in shelving distance, rise the crests of
upland, a soft gray lias, where orchards thrive, and greensward strokes
down the rigor of the rocks, and quick rills lace the bosom of the <DW72>
with tags of twisted silver.
In the murmur of the valley twenty little waters meet, and discoursing
their way to the sea, give name to the bay that receives them and the
anchorage they make. And here no muddy harbor reeks, no foul mouth
of rat-haunted drains, no slimy and scraggy wall runs out, to mar the
meeting of sweet and salt. With one or two mooring posts to watch it,
and a course of stepping-stones, the brook slides into the peaceful bay,
and is lost in larger waters. Even so, however, it is kindly still, for
it forms a tranquil haven.
Because, where the ruffle of the land stream merges into the heavier
disquietude of sea, <DW72>s of shell sand and white gravel give welcome
pillow to the weary keel. No southerly tempest smites the bark, no long
groundswell upheaves her; for a bold point, known as the "Haven-head,"
baffles the storm in the offing, while the bulky rollers of a strong
spring-tide, that need no wind to urge them, are broken by the shifting
of the shore into a tier of white-frilled steps. So the deep-waisted
smacks that fish for many generations, and even the famous "London
trader" (a schooner of five-and-forty tons), have rest from their
labors, whenever they wish or whenever they can afford it, in the
arms of the land, and the mouth of the water, and under the eyes of
Springhaven.
At the corner of the wall, where the brook comes down, and pebble turns
into shingle, there has always been a good white gate, respected (as a
white gate always is) from its strong declaration of purpose. Outside
of it, things may belong to the Crown, the Admiralty, Manor, or Trinity
Brethren, or perhaps the sea itself--according to the latest ebb or
flow of the fickle tide of Law Courts--but inside that gate everything
belongs to the fine old family of Darling.
Concerning the origin of these Darlings divers tales are told, according
to the good-will or otherwise of the diver. The Darlings themselves
contend and prove that stock and name are Saxon, and the true form of
the name is "Deerlung," as witness the family bearings. But the foes of
the race, and especially the Carnes, of ancient Sussex lineage, declare
that the name describes itself. Forsooth, these Darlings are nothing
more, to their contemptuous certainty, than the offset of some
court favorite, too low to have won nobility, in the reign of some
light-affectioned king.
If ever there was any truth in that, it has been worn out long ago by
friction of its own antiquity. Admiral Darling owns that gate, and
all the land inside it, as far as a Preventive man can see with his
spy-glass upon the top bar of it. And this includes nearly all the
village of Springhaven, and the Hall, and the valley, and the hills that
make it. And how much more does all this redound to the credit of the
family when the gazer reflects that this is nothing but their younger
tenement! For this is only Springhaven Hall, while Darling Holt, the
headquarters of the race, stands far inland, and belongs to Sir Francis,
the Admiral's elder brother.
When the tides were at their spring, and the year 1802 of our era in
the same condition, Horatia Dorothy Darling, younger daughter of the
aforesaid Admiral, choosing a very quiet path among thick shrubs and
under-wood, came all alone to a wooden building, which her father called
his Round-house. In the war, which had been patched over now, but would
very soon break out again, that veteran officer held command of the
coast defense (westward of Nelson's charge) from Beachy Head to Selsey
Bill. No real danger had existed then, and no solid intent of invasion,
but many sharp outlooks had been set up, and among them was this at
Springhaven.
Here was established under thatch, and with sliding lights before it,
the Admiral's favorite Munich glass, mounted by an old ship's carpenter
(who had followed the fortunes of his captain) on a stand which would
| 3,168.159975 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.3375100 | 869 | 341 |
Produced by Michael Gray
POPE ADRIAN IV.
AN
HISTORICAL SKETCH.
BY RICHARD RABY.
LONDON:
THOMAS RICHARDSON AND SON,
172, FLEET STREET; 9, CAPEL STREET, DUBLIN; AND DERBY.
1849.
I. PREFACE.
The following sketch was written to supply what its author felt
persuaded could not fail to interest his fellow Catholics in England;
namely, some account of the only English Pope who ever reigned.
In it he does not pretend to any novelty of research; but simply to
present a connected narrative of such events in the history of Pope
Adrian IV. as have hitherto lain broken and concealed in old
chronicles, or been slightly touched for the most part in an
incidental way by modern writers.
In the course of his sketch, the author has ventured to take part with
Pope Adrian in some acts of his, which it is commonly the mode to
condemn. Should his opinions in so doing not be deemed sound, he yet
hopes that at least the spirit which inspired them--in other words,
the spirit to promote the cause of practical rather than theoretical
policy, as also of public order and legitimate authority, will deserve
commendation.
For the rest, the striking similarity between the difficulties which
Pius IX. in our day has to contend with, and those which Pope Adrian
had to encounter in the twelfth century, should only lend the more
interest to his story.
R. R.
_Munich, May, 1849._
POPE ADRIAN IV.
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH.
I.
THE information, which has come down to us respecting the early life
of the only Englishman, who ever sat on the papal throne, is so
defective and scanty, as easily to be comprised in a few paragraphs.
Nicholas Breakspere was born near St. Albans, most probably about the
close of the 11th century. His father was a clergyman, who became a
monk in the monastery of that city, while his son was yet a boy. Owing
to extreme poverty, Nicholas could not pay for his education, and was
obliged to attend the school of the monks on charity. [1] This
circumstance would seem to have put his father so painfully to the
blush, that he took an unnatural dislike to his son; whom he shortly
compelled by his threats and reproaches to flee the neighbourhood in a
state of utter destitution.
Thus cruelly cast on the world, Nicholas to settle the church in those
remote countries, where it had been planted about 150 years. The
circumstances which led to this legation were as follows:[2]--originally
the three kingdoms of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, were
spiritually subject to the archbishop of Hamburg, whose province was
then the most extensive in Christendom. In the year 1102, Denmark
succeeded, after much protracted agitation of the question, in
obtaining from Pope Paschal II., a metropolitan see of its own, which
was founded at Lund; and to whose authority Sweden and Norway were
transferred. The same feeling of national independence, which had
procured this boon for Denmark, was not long before it began to work
in those kingdoms also; and the more so as the Danish supremacy was
asserted over them with much greater rigour than had formerly been
that of Hamburg, and was otherwise repugnant to them, as emanating
from a power with which they stood in far closer political relations,
and more constant rivalry than with Germany. After some indirect
preliminary steps in the business,--which do not seem to have
forwarded it,--the kings of Sweden and Norway sent ambassadors to Pope
Eugenius III., to request for their states the same privilege which
his predecessor had granted to Denmark; and which he himself had just
extended to Ireland, in the erection of the four archbishoprics of
that | 3,168.35755 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.4402460 | 3,461 | 49 |
Transcribed from the 1862 Wertheim, Macintosh and Hunt edition by David
Price, email [email protected]
THOUGHTS
ON
A REVELATION.
BY
S. J. JERRAM, M.A.,
VICAR OF CHOBHAM, SURREY.
* * * * *
LONDON:
WERTHEIM, MACINTOSH AND HUNT,
24, PATERNOSTER ROW,
AND 23, HOLLES STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE.
1862.
ABSTRACT OF CONTENTS.
PAGE.
Introductory: proposed mode of treating the subject 1-4
1.--Knowledge of God needful 4
,,,,,, cannot be obtained by direct perception of 5
God
,,,,,, cannot be obtained, to a sufficient extent, 6
by exercise of natural faculties
,,,,,, cannot be obtained by any implanted idea 6
,,,,,, therefore must be revealed 8
Objection arising from non-universality of a 8
Revelation answered
2.--Conditions under which a Revelation may be expected 9
to be _given_
Revelation must have a distinctive character 9
,,,,,, must be authenticated to original recipients 10
,,,,,, cannot convey a perfect knowledge of God 12
,,,,,, must be limited by the object designed 12
,,,,,, must be limited also by the state of 14
knowledge existing at the time when made
,,,,,, must be, in some degree, phenomenal 15
Such a Revelation appears to be the only one in 16
accordance with man's position, and also adequate
Words as a medium of Revelation must be limited by 18
ideas already existing, which ideas are also limited by
experience
Anthropomorphic notions of God; the Infinite and 19
Absolute
Ideas as a medium of Revelation; ideas and perceptions 20
distinguished, etc.
Perception as a medium of Revelation; not in itself 22
adequate
3.--Conditions under which a Revelation may be expected 26
to be _recorded_, etc.
Exact verbal record considered; difference of 26
languages, etc.
Distinction drawn as to meaning of "exact verbal 29
record"
Divine and human elements in a Revelation; variety of 29
style, etc.
Considerations as to the precise manner of recording a 31
Revelation
4.--Conditions under which a Revelation may be expected 32
to be _transmitted_
5.--Some considerations as to the conditions under which 34
a professed Revelation may be properly _accepted_
Evidence to contemporaries: miracles, doctrines, etc. 34
Evidence to others 37
Observations as to believing: aid derived from others, 37
rapidity of mental processes, intuitions
6.--Some considerations as to the Bible, as a professed 41
Revelation
Its pure morality, hold on public opinion, etc., mark 43
it out as _different_ from other books
Why a candid spirit is _especially_ needful for the 43
study of it
Its offer of supernatural aid considered 45
Its offer of supernatural aid is in accordance with 46
the general beliefs as to Providence, and prayer
THOUGHTS ON A REVELATION.
Few persons can have observed attentively the various phases of public
opinion on religious subjects during the last twenty years or more,
without noticing a growing tendency to the accumulation of difficulties
on the subject of Revelation. Geology, ethnology, mythical
interpretation, critical investigation, and inquiries of other kinds,
have raised their several difficulties; and, in consequence, infidels
have rejoiced, candid inquirers have been perplexed, and even those who
have held with firmness decided views on the distinctive character of the
inspiration of the Bible, have sometimes found it difficult to satisfy
their minds entirely, and to see clearly the grounds of their
conclusions.
The writer of these pages does not propose to attempt a detailed reply to
the various difficulties which have been raised. Answers to objections
arising from the pursuit of particular sciences are most effectually
given by those, who have made those sciences their study; nor can there
be any doubt that, if the book of nature and the Bible spring from the
same source, an increasing acquaintance with both will tend to show their
harmony with each other, and to dispel the perplexities which have arisen
from an imperfect acquaintance with either of them. It may be observed,
too, that, as it requires special knowledge on the part of a writer to
cope with special difficulties; so also does it demand acquirements, but
rarely found, on the part of the reader, to appreciate the real value,
both of the objections and answers which may be made on geological,
critical, or other special grounds.
The writer thinks that there is another method of reply--a method which
consists in giving as clear a view as can be had of the real character of
the subject against which the objections are made; and this is the kind
of answer which he proposes to attempt. The man who has a distinct and
well defined knowledge of chemical, mathematical, or any other science,
will not be greatly perplexed with difficulties which may be brought from
other sciences, touching upon that with which he is acquainted. The
knowledge which he possesses of his own particular science will enable
him, in some instances, to perceive at once the weakness of the
objections which are alleged; and, even when this is not the case, he
will see such an harmonious proportion subsisting between the various
parts of that branch of knowledge which he has been pursuing, and be so
strongly convinced of the certainty of it, that he will be justly
disposed to attribute to his own ignorance his inability to give
satisfactory replies to those difficulties which he cannot dispose of.
_Real_ knowledge cannot of course be overthrown; and, although it is
often difficult to decide what knowledge is of this description, the task
of arriving at a tolerably correct conclusion with regard to such
subjects as fall within the range of our faculties, must not be regarded
as an hopeless one.
When clear definitions have been given, disputants have often found that
there is no further room for discussion; and, even when this is not the
case, the force of objections can, under such circumstances, be more
accurately weighed, and the real points of attack and defence more
clearly perceived. If a man were to say, in a mixed company, that there
was no taste in an apple, many sensible men, unacquainted with his exact
meaning, might be inclined to dispute the assertion, and to say that the
statement was contrary to common experience; but, if he explained his
meaning to be, that taste is a quality of a sentient being, and that
there is nothing in the apple of this kind, or corresponding to it,
everybody then would see the truth of his assertion, and all ground of
dispute would be removed. We will take another case. Those who hold
strong Protestant views frequently say, that the "religion of the Bible
is the religion of Protestants." This, for most purposes, expresses their
meaning forcibly and well, and the mind, in practice, usually supplies
the necessary limitations. It does not, however, always happen that
these limitations are consciously present to the mind, or that the person
who practically receives the right impression might not be greatly
puzzled by the subtle reasonings of objectors. The _dictum_, quoted
above, does not mean, as might at first sight appear, that we are to make
use of no other means than the Bible in the investigation of Divine
truth, and that the wisdom of the present and past ages is to go for
nothing. No one _could_ thus isolate himself from other influences; and,
if he could, it would not be _desirable_. What is really meant is, that
all truth necessary for salvation is contained in the Bible, "so that
whatsoever is not read therein, nor may be proved thereby, is not to be
required of any man that it should be believed as an article of faith,"
etc.; in other words, that the Bible is the ultimate and sole standard of
appeal. This of course may be, and is disputed; but, when the statement
is put in a clear and well defined shape, many apparent objections vanish
at once, and the real points of attack and defence are made evident. If,
then, we can obtain ideas, on the subject of revelation, which shall be,
upon the whole, distinct, and worthy of being received as true, much will
be done to remove objections, and to satisfy a reasonable mind.
The proposed investigation will necessarily be, in some degree, of an _a
priori_ character; not, however, as we trust, so much so as to render it
vague and without practical value. It will be _a priori_, inasmuch as it
will not assume the existence of a revelation, and then proceed to
examine its character. This would be to beg the question at issue. It
will not be _a priori_, so far as it consists in instituting an inquiry
into the faculties of the human mind, and their capacity to receive a
revelation; and into this it will be found that the investigation will
mainly resolve itself.
* * * * *
1. We may commence our inquiry into the subject by noticing, _that a
knowledge of God_, _to be obtained in some way or other_, _seems almost
essential to the well-being of man_. If it be granted, that there is
such a Being--and few, it is presumed, would go so far as to deny
this--it must be of great importance for us to know the relationship in
which that Being stands to us, and we to Him. We can hardly suppose it
possible that an Infinite Being, in some sense, as we suppose will be
generally allowed, the Governor of the world, should not have an
important relation to _all_ other existences; much less, that the
relation which He bears to _man_, the most noble existence of which we
have any actual experience, should be of an insignificant character.
Looking, too, upon man as a free and moral agent, accountable, as
conscience declares, for his actions to his fellow-men, it seems almost
certain that he must be also responsible for his acts in relation to the
Deity. The general belief of mankind, in all ages and in all places,
tends to the same conclusion; and, if it be admitted that there is an
eternal world into which the consequences of our actions follow us, a
knowledge of the relationship in which we stand to God becomes of still
greater importance. But if this knowledge probably may be, and, should
the general belief of the world have a foundation in fact, certainly is,
of great importance, it can hardly be supposed that a God of love would
allow us to remain in ignorance of it; and the question arises, _how it
is to be obtained_.
It may be observed, first of all, that _the Deity does not_, _like other
objects_, _come within the direct cognizance of our perceptive
faculties_. We have an organization, by means of which we are enabled to
perceive various objects around us; and, by travelling to other lands, we
can obtain a knowledge of many things of which we had before been
ignorant. We perceive also what is going on within us. The telescope
and the microscope reveal to us wonders which, without their
intervention, we could never have discovered. But we cannot through the
instrumentality of any of our faculties perceive God. Travel where we
will we cannot find Him out. No appliance of art has availed to disclose
Him to us. If any philosophers conceive that they can intuitively gaze
upon God, other philosophers declare their ignorance of any intuition of
this kind, and assuredly the common people, who most stand in need of
clear notions on the subject, and who would hardly be neglected by a
beneficent God, are altogether unconscious of it. The knowledge of Him,
therefore, if obtained at all, must be had in some other way.
But may not an adequate knowledge of God be obtained _by the exercise of
the faculties of the human mind upon external nature_, _or in some other
way_? The Apostle St. Paul says something which rather favours this
view, when he declares that "the invisible things of Him from the
creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things
that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead; so that they are
without excuse" (Rom. i. 20): and we believe that a considerable insight
into the nature of God, and the probable character of His dealings with
us may be obtained in the manner to which we have referred. Still we
have only to look at the ever varying and degrading notions which have,
at all times, prevailed in many parts of the world respecting the Divine
Being, to perceive that a more clear method of obtaining knowledge about
Him would, to say the least of it, be a most valuable boon. The method
under consideration has not practically issued as we might have hoped
that it would; and therefore there is reason to expect, that God might
make use of some more direct way of communicating to us a knowledge of
Himself.
Another possible mode of communicating a knowledge of God would be, _by
implanting in the mind of man_, _an idea corresponding_, _so far as might
be needful_, _to the nature of God_. But a belief in the existence of
anything of this kind is open to several objections. If such an idea
existed, it must, to answer the required end, be sufficiently clear and
well defined to give at least a tolerably accurate notion of the Deity,
and must also bring with it a well-grounded conviction of its
correspondence to the reality. But the variety of opinions which have
been entertained on the subject forbid us to believe that any such idea
as this exists. Search as far as we can into our own minds, we are
unable to discover anything approaching to such a notion of the Divinity.
It appears too, that, notwithstanding some speculations as to time and
space, which, in the opinion of some, bear a slightly exceptional
character, there is no good reason to believe that we acquire other kinds
of knowledge in the manner under consideration; and, if this be so, there
is a strong presumption against a knowledge of the Deity being obtained
in this way.
As however some confusion of mind not uncommonly prevails on this
subject, we will endeavour to explain our meaning more fully. We
possess, as it appears to us, certain capacities for obtaining knowledge,
and for retaining, and disposing our knowledge, when obtained, in
different ways; but we are not born with the actual possession of
knowledge; nor, so far as we can see, is knowledge, at any subsequent
time, obtained by us, except by means of the capabilities to which we
have referred. We have by nature powers of knowing objects, both
external to our organization, and internal; but the objects themselves,
and not the representations of them, are presented to us before we know
them. We are conscious of seeing, and smelling, and tasting, and
feeling, etc.; but they are the things themselves which we see, and
smell, and taste, and feel, in the first instance, although afterwards we
are | 3,168.460286 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.6363820 | 1,306 | 11 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, 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 Archive)
Transcriber's note: The conventional male and female symbols are rendered
as [M] and [F] in this edition. In the discussion of _Papilio polytes_
the male symbol [M] must be distinguished carefully from the unbracketted
M denoting the male-like variety of females.
* * * * *
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER
LONDON: FETTER LANE, E.C.
EDINBURGH: 100 PRINCES STREET
[Illustration]
NEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
BOMBAY, CALCUTTA AND MADRAS: MACMILLAN AND CO.
TOKYO: THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA
_All rights reserved_
MIMICRY IN BUTTERFLIES
BY
REGINALD CRUNDALL PUNNETT, F.R.S.
Fellow of Gonville and Caius College.
Arthur Balfour Professor of Genetics in the University of Cambridge
Cambridge:
at the University Press
1915
* * * * *
PREFACE
This little book has been written in the hope that it may appeal to several
classes of readers.
Not infrequently I have been asked by friends of different callings in life
to recommend them some book on mimicry which shall be reasonably short,
well illustrated without being very costly, and not too hard to understand.
I have always been obliged to tell them that I know of nothing in our
language answering to this description, and it is largely as an attempt to
remedy this deficiency that the present little volume has been written.
I hope also that it will be found of interest to those who live in or visit
tropical lands, and are attracted by the beauty of the butterfly life
around them. There are few such countries without some of these cases of
close resemblance between butterflies belonging to different families and
groups, and it is to those who have the opportunity to be among them that
we must look for fuller light upon one of the most fascinating of all
nature's problems. If this little book serves to smooth the path of some
who would become acquainted with that problem, and desire to use their
opportunities of observation, the work that has gone to its making will
have been well repaid.
To those who cultivate biological thought from the more philosophical point
of view, I venture to hope that what I have written may not be without
appeal. At such a time as the present, big with impending changes in the
social fabric, few things are more vital than a clear conception of the
scope and workings of natural selection. Little enough is our certain
knowledge of these things, and small though the butterfly's contribution
may be I trust that it will not pass altogether unregarded.
In conclusion I wish to offer my sincere thanks to those who have helped me
in different ways. More especially are they due to my friends Dr Karl
Jordan for the loan of some valuable specimens, and to Mr T. H. Riches for
his kindly criticism on reading over the proof-sheets.
R. C. P.
_February, 1915_
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. INTRODUCTORY 1
II. MIMICRY--BATESIAN AND MUeLLERIAN 8
III. OLD-WORLD MIMICS 18
IV. NEW-WORLD MIMICS 37
V. SOME CRITICISMS 50
VI. "MIMICRY RINGS" 61
VII. THE CASE OF _Papilio polytes_ 75
VIII. THE CASE OF _Papilio polytes_ (_cont._) 93
IX. THE ENEMIES OF BUTTERFLIES 104
X. MIMICRY AND VARIATION 125
XI. CONCLUSION 139
APPENDIX I 154
APPENDIX II 157
PLATES I-XVI AND DESCRIPTIONS 160 ff
I-V. ORIENTAL MOTHS AND BUTTERFLIES.
VI-IX. AFRICAN BUTTERFLIES.
X-XIII. SOUTH AMERICAN BUTTERFLIES.
XIV. SCALES OF LEPIDOPTERA.
XV. CENTRAL AND SOUTH AMERICAN BUTTERFLIES.
XVI. NORTH AMERICAN BUTTERFLIES.
INDEX 183
"The process by which a mimetic analogy is brought about in nature is a
problem which involves that of the origin of all species and all
adaptations."--H. W. BATES, 1861.
"With mimesis, above all, it is wise, when the law says that a thing is
black, first to inquire whether it does not happen to be white."--HENRI
FABRE.
* * * * *
{1}
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
It is now more than fifty years since Darwin gave the theory of natural
selection to the world, and the conception of a gradual evolution has long
ago become part of the currency of thought. Evolution for Darwin was
brought about by more than one factor. He believed in the inherited effects
of the use and disuse of parts, and he also regarded sexual selection as
operating at any rate among the higher animals. Yet he looked upon the
natural selection of small favourable variations as the principal factor in
evolutionary change. Since Darwin's time the trend has been to magnify
natural selection at the expense of the other two factors. The doctrine of
the inherited effects of use and disuse, vigorously challenged by Weismann,
failed to make good its case | 3,168.656422 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.7417640 | 1,305 | 12 |
Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
ELIZABETH
KECKLEY
Behind the Scenes,
Or,
Thirty Years a Slave,
and Four Years in the White House
* * * * *
Contents
BEHIND THE SCENES
Preface 3
Chapter I. Where I was born 7
Chapter II. Girlhood and its Sorrows 13
Chapter III. How I gained my Freedom 19
Chapter IV. In the Family of Senator Jefferson Davis 28
Chapter V. My Introduction to Mrs. Lincoln 34
Chapter VI. Willie Lincoln's Death-bed 41
Chapter VII. Washington in 1862-3 50
Chapter VIII. Candid Opinions 57
Chapter IX. Behind the Scenes 62
Chapter X. The Second Inauguration 68
Chapter XI. The Assassination of President Lincoln 77
Chapter XII. Mrs. Lincoln leaves the White House 89
Chapter XIII. The Origin of the Rivalry between
Mr. Douglas and Mr. Lincol 101
Chapter XIV. Old Friends 106
Chapter XV. The Secret History of Mrs. Lincoln's
Wardrobe in New York 119
Appendix--Letters from Mrs. Lincoln to Mrs. Keckley 147
* * * * *
BEHIND THE SCENES.
BY
ELIZABETH KECKLEY,
FORMERLY A SLAVE, BUT MORE RECENTLY MODISTE,
AND FRIEND TO MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
OR,
THIRTY YEARS A SLAVE, AND FOUR YEARS IN
THE WHITE HOUSE.
NEW YORK:
G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers.
M DCCC LXVIII.
* * * * *
PREFACE
I have often been asked to write my life, as those who know me know that
it has been an eventful one. At last I have acceded to the importunities
of my friends, and have hastily sketched some of the striking incidents
that go to make up my history. My life, so full of romance, may sound
like a dream to the matter-of-fact reader, nevertheless everything I
have written is strictly true; much has been omitted, but nothing has
been exaggerated. In writing as I have done, I am well aware that I have
invited criticism; but before the critic judges harshly, let my
explanation be carefully read and weighed. If I have portrayed the dark
side of slavery, I also have painted the bright side. The good that I
have said of human servitude should be thrown into the scales with the
evil that I have said of it. I have kind, true-hearted friends in the
South as well as in the North, and I would not wound those Southern
friends by sweeping condemnation, simply because I was once a slave.
They were not so much responsible for the curse under which I was born,
as the God of nature and the fathers who framed the Constitution for the
United States. The law descended to them, and it was but natural that
they should recognize it, since it manifestly was their interest to do
so. And yet a wrong was inflicted upon me; a cruel custom deprived me of
my liberty, and since I was robbed of my dearest right, I would not have
been human had I not rebelled against the robbery. God rules the
Universe. I was a feeble instrument in His hands, and through me and the
enslaved millions of my race, one of the problems was solved that
belongs to the great problem of human destiny; and the solution was
developed so gradually that there was no great convulsion of the
harmonies of natural laws. A solemn truth was thrown to the surface, and
what is better still, it was recognized as a truth by those who give
force to moral laws. An act may be wrong, but unless the ruling power
recognizes the wrong, it is useless to hope for a correction of it.
Principles may be right, but they are not established within an hour.
The masses are slow to reason, and each principle, to acquire moral
force, must come to us from the fire of the crucible; the fire may
inflict unjust punishment, but then it purifies and renders stronger the
principle, not in itself, but in the eyes of those who arrogate judgment
to themselves. When the war of the Revolution established the
independence of the American colonies, an evil was perpetuated, slavery
was more firmly established; and since the evil had been planted, it
must pass through certain stages before it could be eradicated. In fact,
we give but little thought to the plant of evil until it grows to such
monstrous proportions that it overshadows important interests; then the
efforts to destroy it become earnest. As one of the victims of slavery I
drank of the bitter water; but then, since destiny willed it so, and
since I aided in bringing a solemn truth to the surface _as a truth_,
perhaps I have no right to complain. Here, as in all things pertaining
to life, I can afford to be charitable.
It may be charged that I have written too freely on some questions,
especially in regard to Mrs. Lincoln. I do not think so; at least I have
been prompted by the purest motive. Mrs. Lincoln, by her own acts,
forced herself into notoriety. She stepped beyond the formal lines which
hedge about a private life, and invited public criticism. The people
have judged her harshly, and no woman was ever more traduced in the
public prints of the country. The people knew nothing of the secret
history of her transactions, therefore they judged her by what was
thrown to the surface. For an act may be wrong judged purely by itself,
but when the motive that prompted the act is understood, it is construed
differently. I lay it down as an axiom, that only that is criminal in
the sight of | 3,168.761804 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.7417770 | 261 | 9 |
Produced by Dave Ceponis, Sue Asscher and David Widger
ZANONI
BY
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON
(PLATE: "Thou art good and fair," said Viola. Drawn by P. Kauffmann,
etched by Deblois.)
DEDICATORY EPISTLE First prefixed to the Edition of 1845
TO
JOHN GIBSON, R.A., SCULPTOR.
In looking round the wide and luminous circle of our great living
Englishmen, to select one to whom I might fitly dedicate this work,--one
who, in his life as in his genius, might illustrate the principle I have
sought to convey; elevated by the ideal which he exalts, and
serenely dwelling in a glorious existence with the images born of his
imagination,--in looking round for some such man, my thoughts rested
upon you. Afar from our turbulent cabals; from the ignoble jealousy and
the sordid strife which degrade and acerbate the ambition of Genius,--in
your Roman Home, you have lived amidst all that is loveliest and least
perishable in the past, and contributed with | 3,168.761817 |
2023-11-16 19:09:52.7427820 | 2,939 | 26 |
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: "Folding his withered hands, he said, in solemn and
trembling tones, 'Let us pray'" (_see page_ 121).]
Adam Hepburn's Vow
*A TALE OF KIRK AND COVENANT*
BY
*ANNIE S. SWAN*
WITH FOUR FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
TWENTY-THIRD THOUSAND
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD
LONDON, NEW YORK, TORONTO AND MELBOURNE
1885
TO
MY FRIEND
C. M.
AND TO THE DEAR ONES GATHERED ROUND HER
IN HER HAPPY HOME
*CONTENTS*
CHAPTER I.
THE TRAVELLERS
CHAPTER II.
A NATION'S TESTIMONY
CHAPTER III.
FOREBODINGS OF EVIL
CHAPTER IV.
THE MINISTER'S CHILDREN
CHAPTER V.
THE FIRST MARTYRS
CHAPTER VI.
A THORN IN THE FLESH
CHAPTER VII.
A LONG FAREWELL
CHAPTER VIII.
MR. DUNCAN MCLEAN
CHAPTER IX.
PREPARING FOR EMERGENCIES
CHAPTER X.
ADAM HEPBURN'S VOW
CHAPTER XI.
UP IN ARMS
CHAPTER XII.
RULLION GREEN
CHAPTER XIII.
THE NEW MAID
CHAPTER XIV.
BETRAYED
CHAPTER XV.
BRAVE TO THE LAST
CHAPTER XVI.
AT THE DAWNING
CHAPTER XVII.
A SHOCK OF CORN FULLY RIPE
CHAPTER XVIII.
AT HAUGHHEAD
CHAPTER XIX.
UNLOOKED-FOR NEWS
CHAPTER XX.
DRUMCLOG
CHAPTER XXI.
DISUNION
CHAPTER XXII.
BOTHWELL BRIDGE
CHAPTER XXIII.
IN CAPTIVITY
CHAPTER XXIV.
DELIVERED
CHAPTER XXV.
AIRSMOSS
CHAPTER XXVI.
REST
*LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.*
"Folding his withered hands, he said, in solemn and trembling tones,
'Let us pray'"... _Frontispiece_
"Uplifting his hand, he swore the solemn oath"
"Little Jeanie... brought out a draught for the general"
"The wildest confusion seemed to prevail on the bridge"
*Adam Hepburn's Vow*
_*A TALE OF KIRK AND COVENANT.*_
*CHAPTER I.*
*THE TRAVELLERS.*
Towards the close of a bleak grey February afternoon, in the year 1638,
a small party of travellers might have been seen approaching Edinburgh
by the high road from Glasgow. It consisted of a sturdy brown pony,
whereon sat a fair-faced, sunny-haired little girl, whose age could not
have exceeded nine years; a bright-faced, bold-looking lad, walking at
the animal's head, and having the bridle-rein hung loosely over his arm;
and a middle-aged gentleman, whose aspect and attire proclaimed him a
clergyman. He walked slowly, a little apart from the others, and his
hands were clasped before him, and his eyes bent thoughtfully on the
ground. He was a man somewhat past his prime, of a noble and manly
bearing, with a fine open countenance, and a speaking eye, wherein dwelt
a singularly sweet and benevolent expression.
The shadows of evening were already beginning to gather over the
surrounding scene, making objects at a distance somewhat indistinct.
Yet, truly, there was little at that season of the year to refresh the
eye or gladden the heart. The icy hand of winter had scarcely yet
relaxed its grasp on mother earth; there were no green buds on hedge or
tree; no blades of promise springing up by the wayside: all was
desolate, bleak, and cold. Yet the newly upturned furrows smelt fresh
and sweet, and the purling brooks wandered cheerfully on their way;
singing their song of gladness, as if they knew that spring was close at
hand. Presently the little party ascended a gentle eminence, and then
many lights were seen twinkling not far ahead.
"See, father, are yon the lights of Edinburgh?" exclaimed the lad, in
his eagerness letting go his hold on Roger's rein.
The minister raised his head, and a light kindled in his eye as he
looked upon the clustering roof-trees and towering spires of the
beautiful city.
"Yes, my son, that is Edinburgh," he said in his full, mellow tones.
"Thanks be to the Lord who hath brought us thither in safety. Would my
little Agnes like to walk now? The evening dews are falling, and
methinks a little exercise would do you no harm. Very soon now you will
be warmed and cheered by the ruddy glow by Aunt Jean's fireside."
As he spoke, the minister turned to Roger (who at a word from his master
stood perfectly still), and gently lifted his little daughter to the
ground. It was then seen that her figure was very slight and fragile,
her face pale and refined-looking, her whole expression thoughtful and
even sad beyond her years.
"Are you wearied, David?" asked the kind father then; but the lad drew
himself up proudly, and shook his head.
"Wearied! no, no, father. I could walk back to Inverburn, I believe,
without resting."
"Keep within the bounds, my boy," said the minister. "See, lead Roger
down to yon little pool, and let him drink. The poor animal is thirsty
and wayworn. Then we will make what haste we can into the city, which
will of necessity be in somewhat of a turmoil to-night, owing to the
many strangers within her gates."
"Father, will there be a great crowd and a noise in Edinburgh?" asked
the little Agnes, somewhat timidly and holding yet more closely by her
father's hand.
"There will be a crowd, my daughter, but no unseemly noise, I trust.
The occasion upon which the nation is assembled in her ancient capital
is too solemn for vain clamourings," said the minister, somewhat sadly;
and as his eyes once more roamed over the spreading roof-trees of the
city, they were filled with tears. The little Agnes, too young to
understand the cause of his emotion, still more closely clasped his
hand, and looked with awe into his face.
"I wish it would not grow dark so soon, father," said David, now
returning from watering the pony. "We will see nothing of Edinburgh till
to-morrow."
"But to-morrow, please the Lord, there will be a sight seen in
Edinburgh, the like of which there has never been in Scotland," said the
minister with kindling eye. "The voice of her people raised in a
national testimony against the injustice and oppression of an earthly
ruler. May the Heavenly King look down in approval on the faithfulness
of the Kirk of Scotland, and give her strength to stand firm to her vow;
ay, to seal it if need be with her blood."
The minister spoke with solemnity and passionate earnestness, which
impressed his young listeners not a little.
"Father, will the soldiers be out on their horses?" David asked with
boyish eagerness; to him the great event to transpire on the morrow
meant a gay pageant to delight the eye and stir the pulse of youth.
"My son, I cannot tell; only I know that peer and peasant, soldier and
civilian, minister and ministered unto, will assemble to-morrow on equal
ground, animated by one grand purpose, and stirred by a common zeal.
May the God of Hosts look down upon and bless the assembled multitudes,"
replied the minister; and then a silence fell upon the little party
which remained unbroken till they entered the city. Even in the
outskirts there were not lacking signs of stir and unusual commotion.
The streets were thronged with vehicles and foot-passengers, and the
very air seemed full of murmurings, telling of a nation's heart stirred
to its deepest depths. The young lad and his sister looked about them
with lively interest; to them the city was a revelation indeed, in the
great contrast it presented to the unfrequented roads and quiet
solitudes of their native parish. Darkness had fallen when the minister
guided Roger's steps into the Grass-market, where stood the hospitable
dwelling which was to shelter them during their sojourn in Edinburgh.
It was the abode of the minister's only sister, who was married to a
well-to-do merchant, by name Edward Kilgour. Having been duly apprised
of his brother-in-law's coming on that day, Edward Kilgour was waiting
at the close mouth, anxiously peering up the street, which was now
almost in total darkness, there being no appliances then for lighting
the thoroughfares and byeways of the city. Hearing the click of the
pony's hoofs, he walked a few steps up the street, and then catching
sight of the little party, he called out in his cheery tones, "Andrew
Gray of Inverburn, and his little ones, if I mistake not!"
"Yes; thus far hath the Lord permitted us to travel in safety, Edward,"
said the minister. "How is it with thee and thine?"
"All well; Jean a little impatient and fearful about you, as is the way
of womenkind," replied the merchant, heartily shaking his brother-in-law
by the hand. "But what! David, and little Agnes too! How did their
mother ever trust them so far?" he exclaimed, in surprise, at sight of
the children.
"She knew them safe with me, Edward, and I thought that the events of
to-morrow might, please God, make an impression on their young minds
which time would never efface. And the Kirk, I am thinking, will need
both old and young to stand firm in her defence ere she be crowned and
blessed with liberty," said the minister, with a sigh.
"You speak the truth, Andrew," replied the merchant, soberly. "Well, I
will take Roger to his stall and see that he is rubbed down and fed. Do
you take the bairns upstairs: you know the way."
The minister nodded, and taking his boy and girl by the hand, led them
up the dark close and into a low doorway, which, unless he had been
familiar with the way, would have been difficult to find.
Aunt Jean heard their steps on the stair, and presently appeared on the
landing with a candle.
"Bless me! Andrew Gray, is that the bairns all the way from the manse
of Inverburn?" she exclaimed, her motherly heart warming at sight of
them.
"Even so, Jean. There will be room and welcome for them as well as for
their father under this roof-tree," answered the minister. "Edward
tells me you are well; and, truly, you look it."
"Oh, ay, I am well in body!" she answered, blithely, and stooping she
lifted the little Agnes in her motherly arms, and affectionately kissed
her cheeks. "Eh, Andrew, this bairn's her mother's living image. How
is Ailie and Jane, and that stirring laddie, Andrew? Why did you leave
him at home?"
"His master could not spare him, being busy preparing the ground for the
seed," replied the minister. "It was a sore disappointment to the lad.
He has a constant craving for something new."
By this time they had entered the wide and comfortable kitchen, where
the log-fire burned merrily, casting its ruddy glow on the hospitable
board spread for the expected guest. A wooden cradle stood in the
warmest corner by the ingle-neuk, wherein slept peacefully the one child
of the household, a babe of eight months, and the first which had
blessed their hearth and home since their marriage, five years before.
The little Agnes looked very long and earnestly into her aunt's face,
never remembering having seen her before.
Mrs. Kilgour had been married out of the manse of Inverburn, at which
time Agnes was only four years old, but she had never visited it since,
and had only once seen her brother's wife, when she accompanied her
husband to Edinburgh on his being appointed to represent the Presbytery
of Lanark at the General Assembly. Travelling in these days was very
slow and laborious, and not unaccompanied by dangers on the roads, owing
to the disturbed and unprotected state of the country.
"Ay, but she is like her mother, Andrew," repeated Mrs. Kilgour, as she
stooped to unfasten the child's cloak. "She has her very een; may the
spirt of the bairn be her mother's likewise! And this is David! He is
greatly grown. I would hardly have known him again! Dearie me, what
changes time works on bairns, as on other things!"
"You are right, Jean. How has business been prospering with you
throughout the winter?"
"We cannot complain of the | 3,168.762822 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.0430660 | 53 | 12 |
Produced by Carlos Colón, University of Toronto and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Transcriber's Notes | 3,169.063106 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.2419740 | 179 | 12 |
Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This book was produced from scanned images of
public domain material from the Google Books project.)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTICE
The medical knowledge represented in this book is several centuries
old. The publication of this book is for historical interest only,
and is not to be construed as medical advice by Project Gutenberg
or its volunteers. Medicinal plants should not be used without
consulting a trained medical professional. Medical science has made
considerable progress since this book was written. Recommendations
or prescriptions have been superseded by better alternatives, or
invalidated altogether. This book contains a number of prescriptions
that are very dangerous.
THE
TALEEF SHEREEF,
OR
INDI | 3,169.262014 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.2422480 | 2,648 | 6 |
Produced by Turgut Dincer, Stephen Hutcheson, 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: VIEW OF NAPLES AND MT. VESUVIUS.]
THE
BOYS’ AND GIRLS’
PLINY
BEING PARTS OF PLINY’S “NATURAL HISTORY”
EDITED FOR BOYS AND GIRLS, WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY
JOHN S. WHITE, LL.D.
HEAD-MASTER BERKELEY SCHOOL
EDITOR OF “THE BOYS’ AND GIRLS’ PLUTARCH” AND “THE BOYS’ AND GIRLS’
HERODOTUS”
WITH FIFTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
_The Knickerbocker Press_
COPYRIGHT BY
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
1885
CONTENTS.
_BOOK I._
DEDICATION.
CHAP. PAGE
Caius Plinius Secundus to his Friend Titus Vespasian 1
_BOOK II._
AN ACCOUNT OF THE WORLD AND THE ELEMENTS.
I. The Character and Form of the World 9
II. Of God 12
III. The Dimensions of the World 15
IV. Of the Stars which appear suddenly, or of Comets 16
V. The Doctrine of Hipparchus about the Stars 17
VI. Of the Stars which are Named Castor and Pollux 18
VII. Of Thunder and Lightning 19
VIII. Nature of the Earth 20
IX. Italy 25
X. The Hyperboreans 27
XI. Britannia 29
XII. Mount Atlas 30
XIII. The Island of Taprobana 31
_BOOK III._
MAN, HIS BIRTH AND HIS ORGANIZATION.
I. Man 37
II. The Wonderful Forms of Different Nations 40
III. Instances of Extraordinary Strength 49
IV. Instances of Remarkable Agility and Acuteness of Sight 50
V. Vigor of Mind, and Courage 51
VI. Men of Remarkable Genius and Wisdom 57
_BOOK IV._
THE NATURE OF TERRESTRIAL ANIMALS.
I. Elephants; their Capacity 60
II. The Combats of Elephants 66
III. The Way in which Elephants are Caught 68
IV. The Age of the Elephant, and Other Particulars 69
V. The Lion 71
VI. Wonderful Feats Performed by Lions 74
VII. Panthers and Tigers 78
VIII. The Camel 80
IX. The Rhinoceros and the Crocotta 82
X. The Animals of Æthiopia; Wild Beasts which Kill with their Eyes 84
XI. Wolves; Serpents 85
XII. The Crocodile and the Hippopotamus 88
XIII. Prognostics of Danger Derived from Animals 92
XIV. The Hyæna 93
XV. Deer 94
XVI. The Chameleon 97
XVII. Bears and their Cubs 98
XVIII. Hedgehogs 100
XIX. The Wild Boar 101
XX. Apes 102
_BOOK V._
DOMESTIC ANIMALS.
I. The Dog; Examples of its Attachment to its Master 104
II. The Horse 107
III. The Ox 112
IV. The Egyptian Apis 114
V. Sheep and their Wool 115
VI. Different Kinds of Cloths 118
VII. Goats 120
_BOOK VI._
THE NATURAL HISTORY OF FISHES.
I. Why the Largest Animals are Found in the Sea 121
II. The Forms of the Tritons and Nereids 124
III. The Balæna and the Orca 125
IV. Dolphins 127
V. The Various Kinds of Turtles 133
VI. Distribution of Aquatic Animals into Various Species 134
VII. Fishes Valued for the Table 139
VIII. Peculiar Fishes 142
IX. Bloodless Fishes 144
X. Various Kinds of Shell-Fish 151
XI. Pearls 153
XII. The Nature of the Murex and the Purple 160
XIII. Bodies which have a Third Nature, that of the Animal and Vegetable
Combined 164
XIV. The Shark 165
XV. Oyster-Beds, and Fish-Preserves 167
XVI. Land-Fishes 169
XVII. How the Fish Called the Anthias is Taken 170
XVIII. The Echeneis and the Torpedo 172
XIX. The Instincts and Peculiarities of Fishes 174
XX. Coral 176
XXI. The Various Kinds of Oysters 177
_BOOK VII._
THE NATURAL HISTORY OF BIRDS.
I. The Ostrich 180
II. The Phœnix 181
III. The Eagle 182
IV. The Vulture and the Hawk 187
V. The Crow, the Raven, and the Owl 191
VI. The Woodpecker of Mars 193
VII. The Peacock and the Rooster 194
VIII. The Goose 197
IX. Cranes 198
X. Storks and Swans 199
XI. Foreign Birds which Visit Us 201
XII. Swallows 203
XIII. Birds which take their Departure from Us in Winter 204
XIV. The Nightingale 206
XV. The Halcyons: the Halcyon Days that are Favorable to Navigation 208
XVI. The Instinctive Cleverness Displayed by Birds in the Construction
of their Nests 209
XVII. The Acanthyllis and the Partridge 210
XVIII. Pigeons 213
XIX. Different Modes of Flight and Progression in Birds 215
XX. Strange and Fabulous Birds 216
XXI. The Art of Cramming Poultry.—Aviaries 224
XXII. Peculiarities of Animals 226
_BOOK VIII._
THE VARIOUS KINDS OF INSECTS.
I. The Extreme Smallness of Insects 232
II. Whether Insects Breathe, and Whether they have Blood 234
III. Bees 236
IV. The Mode in which Bees Work 238
V. The Mode of Government of the Bees 242
VI. Wasps and Hornets 244
VII. The Silk-Worm 245
VIII. Spiders 246
IX. Locusts 248
X. Ants 250
_BOOK IX._
THE NATURAL HISTORY OF METALS.
I. Gold 252
II. The Origin of Gold Rings 254
III. Coins of Gold 256
IV. Silver 260
V. Mirrors 261
VI. Instances of Immense Wealth 263
VII. Instances of Luxury in Silver Plate 265
VIII. Bronze 268
IX. Statues of Bronze 271
X. The most Celebrated Colossal Statues in the City 277
XI. Of the most Celebrated Works in Bronze, and of the Artists who
Executed them 280
XII. Iron 287
XIII. An Account of Paintings and Colors 289
XIV. The Earliest Painters 292
XV. Artists who Painted with the Pencil 296
XVI. Various other Kinds of Painting 311
XVII. The Inventors of the Art of Modelling 313
XVIII. Works in Pottery 315
XIX. Sculpture 318
XX. Obelisks 323
CONCLUSION.—Italy 326
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
View of Naples and Mt. Vesuvius _Frontispiece._
The Indian Elephant 43
African Elephant.—_Loxodonta Africana_ 66
Gambian Lion.—_Leo Gambianus_ 72
Wild Cat.—_Felis Catus_ 75
Margay.—_Leopardus Tigrinus_ 77
Jaguar.—_Leopardus Onca_ 78
Tiger.—_Tigris Regális_ 79
Camel.—_Camélus Arábicus_ 80
Giraffe.—_Giraffa Camelopárdalis_ 81
Indian Rhinoceros.—_Rhinóceros Unicornis_ 82
Keittoa, or Sloan’s Rhinoceros.—_Rhinoceros Keittoa_ 83
Viper, or Adder.—_Pelias Berus_ 87
Hippopotamus, or Zeekoe.—_Hippopotamus Amphibius_ 91
Common Mouse.—_Mus Músculus_ (White, Brown and Pied Varieties) 92
Caribou.—_Larandus Rangifer_ 95
Syrian Bear, or Dubb.—_Ursus Isabellinus_ 99
Hedgehog.—_Erinaceus Europæus_ 100
Wild Boar.—_Sus Scrofa_ 101
Silvery Gibbon.—_Hylóbates Leuciscus_ 102
The Orang-Outan.—_Simia Sátyrus_ 103
Maltese Dog.—_Canis Familiáris_ 105
Thibet Dog.—_Canis Familiáris_ 106
Mustang 109
Zebra.—_Ásinus Zebra_ 110
Ass.—_Ásinus Vulgaris_ 111
Merino, or Spanish Sheep 116
Musk Ox.—_Ovibos Moschátus_ 119
Sea-Elephant.—_Morunga proboscidea_ 122
Rorqual.—_Physalus Böops_ 126
Spermaceti Whale.—_Cátodon Macrocéphalus_ 126
Dolphin.—_Delphinus Delphis_ 130
Group of Seals 135
Long-Spined Chætodon.—_Heinochus Monoceros_ 141
Filamentous Gunard.—_Pelor filamentosum_ 143
Otter.—_Lutra Vulgaris_ 171
Bald, or White-Headed Eagle.—_Haliaëtus Leucocephalus_ 183
Martial Eagle.—_Spizáëtus bellicosus_ 186
Group of Falcons 189
Stork.—_Ciconia Alba_ 200
Spotted King Fisher.—_Céryle Guttáta_ 217
Rhinoceros Hornbill.—_Búceros Rhinoceros_ 218
King Penguin.—_Aptenodytes Pennantii_ 222
Gigantic Salamander.—_Sieboldia Maxima_ 226
Hemigale.—_Hemigale Hardwickii_ 227
Group of Rodent Animals 229
The Cat.—_Felis Domestica_ 230
| 3,169.262288 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.4349000 | 1,799 | 27 |
Produced by deaurider 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 Surgery
of
Ritual
Circumcision,
BY
JACOB SNOWMAN,
M.D., M.R.C.S., M.R.C.P., LOND.
_Medical Officer of the Initiation Society, &c., &c._
LONDON:
PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE
MEDICAL BOARD OF THE INITIATION SOCIETY.
1904.
E. W. RABBINOWICZ, PRINTER, 48, COMMERCIAL STREET, E.
PREFACE.
_The object of the following few pages is to provide a basis of
instruction in the surgical aspect of the Jewish rite of circumcision.
The performance of this simple operation is not limited to medical men.
It is therefore essential that the lay Mohel should possess a scientific
knowledge of the important task he undertakes._
_The Initiation Society which controls the instruction of Mohelim has
arranged a Syllabus which guarantees such an acquaintance with the
subject. This little book is planned in accordance with that syllabus.
Its main object is to bring the principles of ASEPSIS within the
information of everyone acting as a Mohel, and to insist upon the urgent
need of carrying these principles into practice._
J. SNOWMAN.
11, SHOOT-UP-HILL, BRONDESBURY, N.W.
_July 1904._
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
CHAPTER I.--_Causes of Infection of Wounds._ 7
CHAPTER II.--_Results of Infection of Wounds._ 13
CHAPTER III.--_Elements of the Antiseptic method._ 17
CHAPTER IV.--_Surgical Anatomy._ 23
CHAPTER V.--_Technique of Operation._ 28
_The Dressing._
_Abnormalities._
CHAPTER VI.--_Repair of the Wound._ 38
CHAPTER VII.--_Hæmorrhage._ 44
CHAPTER I.
_Infection of Wounds._
The greatest advance in modern surgery has been to show how wounds become
infected and cause general blood poisoning. This applies both to wounds
made by the knife of the Surgeon as well as to accidental injuries. _The
principles concerned in this matter involve not only the arrangements
necessary for a severe and prolonged operation but also those required
for the simple circumcision of an infant._ It is therefore essential
that those who perform ritual circumcision should be familiar with the
elementary teachings of the _Antiseptic System of Surgery_ which is now
universally adopted even in the most trifling surgical proceedings.
Heavy responsibility lies upon the Mohel to carry out every case
strictly in accord with the lessons of surgical cleanliness. _Surgical
Cleanliness_ begins where ordinary cleanliness leaves off. Its object
is to destroy certain minute particles of matter which are invisible to
the naked eye, but which are _living organisms of a vegetable nature_,
able to grow very luxuriantly in blood, and wound discharges. Here they
produce a poison which gets absorbed into the body, causing serious
symptoms of disease; or they themselves enter the blood stream and
circulate in it with even more disastrous results. These organisms can
be observed under the microscope, but can only be seen by the naked eye
when growing together in colonies after being planted in such substances
as gelatine or broth, or on the surface of a slice of potato. They
correspond exactly to the growth of _mould or fungus_ on stale cheese
or meat, or to the growth of yeast in fermenting grape juice. When seen
separately under the microscope, or when growing in the mass they possess
very distinct characters so that the expert is able to distinguish
the one from the other, with the same confidence as a pear may be
distinguished from a fig.
A large number of diseases is due to the growth in the body of certain of
these organisms, and in many diseases we can be sure of always finding
the particular one responsible for the condition, either in the blood or
in the discharges from the body. This is notably the case in Consumption,
Typhoid Fever, and Malarial Fever. We often know how the organism has
obtained entrance into the body; it may be either by the lungs or the
stomach, or in other words through air or through food.
We are however only concerned just now with the _organisms which enter
the body by means of an open wound_.
These nearly all belong to one class--_micro-cocci_. They are minute
round bodies about 1/25000 inch in diameter. They possess the peculiarity
of growing together in clusters like grapes, or in chains. They are
responsible for the diseased conditions of wounds which delay healing,
for inflammation around wounds and for the general blood-poisoning which
may result.
These organisms are very abundant in the dust of rooms, on dirty clothes
and unclean general surroundings, and there can be no doubt that
everybody is often infected by them. But fortunately disease results only
rarely, because there are special powers resident in the vital tissues
which enable them successfully to resist the poisonous effects of these
organisms. There are however certain circumstances in which they are
liable to be more harmful than in others.
_1_) _When they are absorbed in especially large numbers._
_2_) _When absorbed in an especially active state._
_3_) _When the body is in a condition of ill-health from whatever
cause._
_4_) _In the presence of cold._
Each one of these circumstances is of special importance in relation to
circumcision and may be commented on as follows.
1) The slightest departure from scrupulous cleanliness either on the
genitals of the infant, on the instruments or dressings used, or on the
hands of the Mohel enormously increases the number of microbes which may
possibly infect the wound. _Hence the necessity for absolute ordinary
cleanliness before resorting to antiseptic measures._
2) It is well known that these organisms exist in a very virulent form in
unhealthy wounds, in boils and in abscesses, and the worst cases of blood
poisoning have resulted from the direct infection of a healthy wound from
an unhealthy one. For this reason all the precautions in regard to the
disinfection of the hands, which will be referred to subsequently, must
be carried out with rigorous care, when there has been any possibility of
their having come in contact with such sources of infection.
3) The natural protective power of the body against infection is
diminished when the general health is below the normal standard. This
occurs in infants mainly, when they are premature, or suffering from
jaundice, sickness or diarrhœa, congenital disease of the heart or other
organs. In these circumstances the circumcision must be delayed.
When the parts are unduly bruised, the local resistance is considerably
lowered; hence the paramount necessity of the operation being performed
neatly and dexterously.
If these micro-cocci have already found access to the body in other
parts, as evidenced by _purulent ophthalmia_ (i.e. matter discharging
from the eye lids) or _suppuration about the navel_, it is important that
these conditions be cured before the circumcision is undertaken, because
experience shows that in their presence the risks of a general blood
infection are increased.
4) There is a special liability for the skin of an infant, particularly
in the region of the scrotum, to become irritated by its excretions
and to present the eruption known as _eczema_. The folds of the groin
occasionally suffer in the same way, the skin becoming reddened and
peeling. These cases demand medical attention before operation, owing
to special risks of infection. _No infant presenting a rash of any kind
should be circumcised without previous examination by a doctor, because
it may indicate constitutional disease._
5) Cold always indicates that the bodily processes are deficient in
activity. Infants are especially liable to cold, and hence the necessity
to supply them with abundant artificial warmth. This is especially
required during the exposure which a | 3,169.45494 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.5390240 | 261 | 29 |
Produced by Mary Munarin and David Widger
A RESIDENCE IN FRANCE,
DURING THE YEARS
1792, 1793, 1794, AND 1795;
DESCRIBED IN A SERIES OF LETTERS
FROM AN ENGLISH LADY;
With General And Incidental Remarks
On The French Character And Manners.
Prepared for the Press
By John Gifford, Esq.
Author of the History of France, Letter to Lord
Lauderdale, Letter to the Hon. T. Erskine, &c.
Second Edition.
_Plus je vis l'Etranger plus j'aimai ma Patrie._
--Du Belloy.
London: Printed for T. N. Longman, Paternoster Row. 1797.
PRELIMINARY REMARKS BY THE EDITOR.
The following Letters were submitted to my inspection and judgement by
the Author, of whose principles and abilities I had reason to entertain a
very high opinion. How far my judgement has been exercised to advantage
in enforcing the propriety of introducing them to the public, that public
must decide. To me, I confess, it appeared, that a series of important
facts, tending to throw a strong | 3,169.559064 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.5400740 | 256 | 51 |
Produced by Josep Cols Canals, Les Galloway and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
PROTESTANTISM
AND
CATHOLICITY
COMPARED IN THEIR
EFFECTS ON THE CIVILIZATION OF EUROPE.
WRITTEN IN SPANISH
BY THE REV. J. BALMES.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.
Second Edition.
BALTIMORE:
PUBLISHED BY JOHN MURPHY & CO.
No. 178 MARKET STREET.
PITTSBURG: GEORGE QUIGLEY.
_Sold by Booksellers generally._
1851.
ENTERED, according to the Act of Congress, in the year eighteen
hundred and fifty, by JOHN MURPHY & CO., in the Clerk's Office of the
District Court of Maryland.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
Among the many and important evils which have been the necessary
result of the profound revolutions of modern times, there appears a
good extremely valuable to science, and which will probably have a | 3,169.560114 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.6365430 | 1,997 | 12 |
E-text prepared by Larry B. Harrison, Charlie Howard, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 53897-h.htm or 53897-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53897/53897-h/53897-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53897/53897-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/trailsofpathfind00grinrich
Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
* * * * * *
IN THE SAME SERIES
PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
=The Boy’s Catlin.= My Life Among the Indians, by GEORGE
CATLIN. Edited by MARY GAY HUMPHREYS. Illustrated.
12mo. _net_ $1.50
=The Boy’s Hakluyt.= English Voyages of Adventure and
Discovery, retold from Hakluyt by EDWIN M. BACON.
Illustrated. 12mo. _net_ $1.50
=The Boy’s Drake.= By EDWIN M. BACON. Illustrated. 12mo.
_net_ $1.50
=Trails of the Pathfinders.= By GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL.
Illustrated. 12mo. _net_ $1.50
* * * * * *
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
[Illustration:
CAPTAINS LEWIS AND CLARK WERE MUCH PUZZLED AT THIS POINT TO KNOW
WHICH OF THE RIVERS BEFORE THEM WAS THE MAIN MISSOURI.]
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
by
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL
Author of “Blackfoot Lodge Tales,” “Pawnee Hero
Stories and Folk Tales,” “The Story of the
Indian,” “Indians of Today,” etc.
Illustrated
New York
Charles Scribner’S Sons
1911
Copyright, 1911, by
Charles Scribner’S Sons
Published April, 1911
[Illustration]
PREFACE
The chapters in this book appeared first as part of a series of
articles under the same title contributed to _Forest and Stream_
several years ago. At the time they aroused much interest and there was
a demand that they should be put into book form.
The books from which these accounts have been drawn are good reading
for all Americans. They are at once history and adventure. They deal
with a time when half the continent was unknown; when the West--distant
and full of romance--held for the young, the brave and the hardy,
possibilities that were limitless.
The legend of the kingdom of El Dorado did not pass with the passing of
the Spaniards. All through the eighteenth and a part of the nineteenth
century it was recalled in another sense by the fur trader, and with
the discovery of gold in California it was heard again by a great
multitude--and almost with its old meaning.
Besides these old books on the West, there are many others which every
American should read. They treat of that same romantic period, and
describe the adventures of explorers, Indian fighters, fur hunters and
fur traders. They are a part of the history of the continent.
NEW YORK, _April_, 1911.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTION 3
II. ALEXANDER HENRY--I 13
III. ALEXANDER HENRY--II 36
IV. JONATHAN CARVER 57
V. ALEXANDER MACKENZIE--I 84
VI. ALEXANDER MACKENZIE--II 102
VII. ALEXANDER MACKENZIE--III 121
VIII. LEWIS AND CLARK--I 138
IX. LEWIS AND CLARK--II 154
X. LEWIS AND CLARK--III 169
XI. LEWIS AND CLARK--IV 179
XII. LEWIS AND CLARK--V 190
XIII. ZEBULON M. PIKE--I 207
XIV. ZEBULON M. PIKE--II 226
XV. ZEBULON M. PIKE--III 238
XVI. ALEXANDER HENRY (THE YOUNGER)--I 253
XVII. ALEXANDER HENRY (THE YOUNGER)--II 271
XVIII. ALEXANDER HENRY (THE YOUNGER)--III 287
XIX. ROSS COX--I 301
XX. ROSS COX--II 319
XXI. THE COMMERCE OF THE PRAIRIES--I 330
XXII. THE COMMERCE OF THE PRAIRIES--II 341
XXIII. SAMUEL PARKER 359
XXIV. THOMAS J. FARNHAM--I 372
XXV. THOMAS J. FARNHAM--II 382
XXVI. FREMONT--I 393
XXVII. FREMONT--II 405
XXVIII. FREMONT--III 415
XXIX. FREMONT--IV 428
XXX. FREMONT--V 435
ILLUSTRATIONS
CAPTAINS LEWIS AND CLARK WERE MUCH PUZZLED AT THIS POINT TO
KNOW WHICH OF THE RIVERS BEFORE THEM WAS THE MAIN MISSOURI
_Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
“I NOW RESIGNED MYSELF TO THE FATE WITH WHICH I WAS MENACED” 28
A MAN OF THE NAUDOWESSIE 62
From _Travels Through the Interior Parts of North America_,
by Jonathan Carver
A MAN OF THE OTTIGAUMIES 62
From _Travels Through the Interior Parts of North America_,
by Jonathan Carver
ALEXANDER MACKENZIE 84
From Mackenzie’s _Voyages from Montreal Through the Continent
of North America_, etc.
MACKENZIE AND THE MEN JUMPED OVERBOARD 118
LIEUTENANT ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE, MONUMENT AT COLORADO SPRINGS,
COLORADO 208
BUFFALO ON THE SOUTHERN PLAINS 236
From Kendall’s _Narrative of the Texas Santa Fé Expedition_
TWO MEN MOUNTED ON HER BACK, BUT SHE WAS AS ACTIVE WITH THIS LOAD
AS BEFORE 270
FUR TRADERS OF THE NORTH 280
ASTORIA IN 1813 302
From Franchere’s _Narrative of a Voyage to the Northwest
Coast of America_
CARAVAN ON THE MARCH 334
From Gregg’s _Commerce of the Prairies_
WAGONS PARKED FOR THE NIGHT 340
From Gregg’s _Commerce of the Prairies_
TRAPPERS ATTACKED BY INDIANS 360
From an old print by A. Tait
TRAIN STAMPEDED BY WILD HORSES 372
From Bartlett’s _Texas, New Mexico, California_, etc.
MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN C. FREMONT 394
AN OTO COUNCIL 414
From James’s _An Expedition from Pittsburgh to the Rocky
Mountains by Major Stephen H. Long_.
MAP
PAGE
ROUTES OF SOME OF THE PATHFINDERS 2
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
[Illustration: ROUTES OF SOME OF THE PATHFINDERS]
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
Three centuries ago half a dozen tiny hamlets, peopled by white men,
were scattered along the western shores of the North Atlantic Ocean.
These little settlements owed allegiance to different nations of
Europe, each of which had thrust out a hand to grasp some share of the
wealth which might lie in the unknown wilderness which stretched away
from the seashore toward the west.
The “Indies” had been discovered more than a hundred years before, but
though ships had sailed north and ships had sailed south, little was
known of the land, through which men were seeking a passage to share
the trade which | 3,169.656583 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.7415470 | 613 | 6 |
Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE NE'ER-DO-WELL
By REX BEACH
Author of "THE SILVER HORDE" "THE SPOILERS" "THE IRON TRAIL" Etc.
Illustrated
TO
MY WIFE
CONTENTS
I. VICTORY
II. THE TRAIL DIVIDES
III. A GAP
IV. NEW ACQUAINTANCES
V. A REMEDY IS PROPOSED
VI. IN WHICH KIRK ANTHONY IS GREATLY SURPRISED
VII. THE REWARD OF MERIT
VIII. EL COMANDANTE TAKES A HAND
IX. SPANISH LAW
X. A CHANGE OF PLAN
XI. THE TRUTH ABOUT MRS. CORTLANDT
XII. A NIGHT AT TABOGA
XIII. CHIQUITA
XIV. THE PATH THAT LED NOWHERE
XV. ALIAS JEFFERSON LOCKE
XVI. "8838"
XVII. GARAVEL THE BANKER
XVIII. THE SIEGE OF MARIA TORRES
XIX. "LA TOSCA"
XX. AN AWAKENING
XXI. THE REST OF THE FAMILY
XXII. A CHALLENGE AND A CONFESSION
XXIII. A PLOT AND A SACRIFICE
XXIV. A BUSINESS PROPOSITION
XXV. CHECKMATE!
XXVI. THE CRASH
XXVII. A QUESTION
XXVIII. THE ANSWER
XXIX. A LAST APPEAL
XXX. DARWIN K ANTHONY
THE NE'ER-DO-WELL
I
VICTORY
It was a crisp November night. The artificial brilliance of Broadway
was rivalled by a glorious moonlit sky. The first autumn frost was in
the air, and on the side-streets long rows of taxicabs were standing,
their motors blanketed, their chauffeurs threshing their arms to rout
the cold. A few well-bundled cabbies, perched upon old-style hansoms,
were barking at the stream of hurrying pedestrians. Against a
background of lesser lights myriad points of electric signs flashed
into everchanging shapes, winking like huge, distorted eyes; fanciful
designs of liquid fire ran up and down the walls or blazed forth in
lurid colors. From the city's canons came an incessant clanging roar,
as if a great river of brass and steel were grinding its way toward the
sea.
Crowds began to issue from the theatres, and the lines of waiting
vehicles broke up, filling the streets with the whir of machinery and
the clatter of hoofs. A horde of shrill- | 3,169.761587 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.7417130 | 2,799 | 9 |
Produced by K Nordquist, Branko Collin and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
_The Big Drum_
_THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO_
Paper cover, 1s. 6d.; cloth, 2s. 6d. each
_THE TIMES_
_THE PROFLIGATE_
_THE CABINET MINISTER_
_THE HOBBY-HORSE_[1]
_LADY BOUNTIFUL_
_THE MAGISTRATE_
_DANDY DICK_
_SWEET LAVENDER_
_THE SCHOOLMISTRESS_
_THE WEAKER SEX_
_THE AMAZONS_[1]
_THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY_[1]
_THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH_
_THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT_[1]
_THE PRINCESS AND THE BUTTERFLY_
_TRELAWNY OF THE "WELLS"_
_THE GAY LORD QUEX_[2]
_IRIS_
_LETTY_
_A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE_
_HIS HOUSE IN ORDER_[1]
_THE THUNDERBOLT_
_MID-CHANNEL_
_THE "MIND THE PAINT" GIRL_
THE PINERO BIRTHDAY BOOK
SELECTED AND ARRANGED BY MYRA HAMILTON
With a Portrait, cloth extra, price 2s. 6d.
_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_
[1] This Play can be had in library form, 4to, cloth, with a
portrait, 5s.
[2] A Limited Edition of this play on hand-made paper, with a
new portrait, 10s, net.
_The Big Drum_
_A COMEDY_
_In Four Acts_
_By_
_ARTHUR PINERO_
_"The desire of fame betrays an ambitious
man into indecencies that lessen his
reputation; he is still afraid lest any of
his actions should be thrown away in
private."_
ADDISON
_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_
_MCMXV_
_Copyright 1915, by Arthur Pinero_
_This play was Produced in London, at the
St. James's Theatre, on Wednesday,
September 1, 1915_
_PREFACE_
The Big Drum is published exactly as it was written, and as it was
originally performed. At its first representation, however, the
audience was reported to have been saddened by its "unhappy ending."
Pressure was forthwith put upon me to reconcile Philip and Ottoline at
the finish, and at the third performance of the play the curtain fell
upon the picture, violently and crudely brought about, of Ottoline in
Philip's arms.
I made the alteration against my principles and against my conscience,
and yet not altogether unwillingly. For we live in depressing times;
and perhaps in such times it is the first duty of a writer for the
stage to make concessions to his audiences and, above everything, to
try to afford them a complete, if brief, distraction from the gloom
which awaits them outside the theatre.
My excuse for having at the start provided an "unhappy" ending is that
I was blind enough not to regard the ultimate break between Philip and
Ottoline as really unhappy for either party. On the contrary, I looked
upon the separation of these two people as a fortunate occurrence for
both; and I conceived it as a piece of ironic comedy which might not
prove unentertaining that the falling away of Philip from his high
resolves was checked by the woman he had once despised and who had at
last grown to know and to despise herself.
But comedy of this order has a knack of cutting rather deeply, of
ceasing, in some minds, to be comedy at all; and it may be said that
this is what has happened in the present instance. Luckily it is
equally true that certain matters are less painful, because less
actual, in print than upon the stage. The "wicked publisher,"
therefore, even when bombs are dropping round him, can afford to be
more independent than the theatrical manager; and for this reason I
have not hesitated to ask my friend Mr. Heinemann to publish THE BIG
DRUM in its original form.
ARTHUR PINERO
LONDON,
_September_ 1915
_THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY_
PHILIP MACKWORTH
SIR RANDLE FILSON, KNT.
BERTRAM FILSON (_his son_)
SIR TIMOTHY BARRADELL, BART.
ROBERT ROOPE
COLLINGHAM GREEN
LEONARD WESTRIP (_Sir Randle's secretary_)
ALFRED DUNNING (_of Sillitoe and Dunning's Private Detective Agency_)
NOYES (_Mr. Roope's servant_)
UNDERWOOD (_servant at Sir Randle's_)
JOHN (_Mr. Mackworth's servant_)
A WAITER
OTTOLINE DE CHAUMIE, COMTESSE DE CHAUMIE, _nee_ FILSON
LADY FILSON
HON. MRS. GODFREY ANSLOW
MRS. WALTER QUEBEC
MISS TRACER (_Lady Filson's secretary_)
PERIOD--1913
ACT I.
ROBERT ROOPE'S FLAT IN SOUTH AUDLEY STREET. JUNE.
ACT II.
MORNING-ROOM AT SIR RANDLE FILSON'S, ENNISMORE GARDENS. THE NEXT DAY.
ACT III.
MACKWORTH'S CHAMBERS, GRAY'S INN. NOVEMBER.
ACT IV.
THE SAME PLACE. THE FOLLOWING MORNING.
_The curtain falls for a moment in the course of the First and Third
Acts._
THE BIG DRUM
THE FIRST ACT
_The scene is a room, elegantly decorated, in a flat in South Audley
Street. On the right, two windows give a view, through muslin curtains,
of the opposite houses. In the wall facing the spectator are two doors,
one on the right, the other on the left. The left-hand door opens into
the room from a dimly-lighted corridor, the door on the right from the
dining-room. Between the doors there is a handsome fireplace. No fire
is burning and the grate is banked with flowers. When the dining-room
door is opened, a sideboard and a side-table are seen in the further
room, upon which are dishes of fruit, an array of ice-plates and
finger-bowls, liqueurs in decanters, glasses, silver, etc._
_The pictures, the ornaments upon the mantelpiece, and the articles of
furniture are few but choice. A high-backed settee stands on the right
of the fireplace; near the settee is a fauteuil-stool; facing the
settee is a Charles II arm-chair. On the left of the room there is a
small table with a chair beside it; on the right, not far from the
nearer window, are a writing-table and writing-chair. Pieces of
bric-a-brac lie upon the tables, where there are also some graceful
statuettes in ivory and bronze. Another high-backed settee fills the
space between the windows, and in each window there is an arm-chair of
the same period as the one at the fireplace._
_The street is full of sunlight._
(_Note: Throughout, "right" and "left" are the spectators' right and
left, not the actor's._)
[ROBERT ROOPE, _seated at the writing-table, is sealing
a letter._ NOYES _enters at the door on the left,
followed by_ PHILIP MACKWORTH.
NOYES.
[_Announcing_ PHILIP.] Mr. Mackworth.
ROOPE.
[_A simple-looking gentleman of fifty, scrupulously attired--jumping up
and shaking hands warmly with_ PHILIP _as the servant withdraws._] My
dear Phil!
PHILIP.
[_A negligently--almost shabbily--dressed man in his late thirties,
with a handsome but worn face._] My dear Robbie!
ROOPE.
A triumph, to have dragged you out! [_Looking at his watch._] Luncheon
isn't till a quarter-to-two. I asked you for half-past-one because I
want to have a quiet little jaw with you beforehand.
PHILIP.
Delightful.
ROOPE.
Er--I'd better tell you at once, old chap, whom you'll meet here
to-day.
PHILIP.
Aha! Your tone presages a most distinguished guest. [_Seating himself
in the chair by the small table._] Is she a _grande-duchesse_, or is he
a crowned head?
ROOPE.
[_Smiling rather uneasily._] Wait. I work up to my great effect by
degrees. We shall only be six. Collingham Green----
PHILIP.
[_In disgust._] Oh, lord!
ROOPE.
Now, Phil, don't be naughty.
PHILIP.
The fellow who does the Society gossip for the _Planet_!
ROOPE.
And does it remarkably neatly, in my opinion.
PHILIP.
Pouah! [_Leaning back in his chair, his legs outstretched, and
spouting._] "Mrs. Trevelyan Potter, wearing a gown of yellow charmeuse
exquisitely draped with chiffon, gave a dance for her niece Miss
Hermione Stubbs at the Ritz Hotel last night." That sort o' stuff!
ROOPE.
[_Pained._] _Somebody_ has to supply it.
PHILIP.
"Pretty Mrs. Claud Grymes came on from the opera in her pearls, and
Lady Beakly looked younger than her daughter in blue."
ROOPE.
[_Ruefully._] You don't grow a bit more reasonable, Phil; not a bit.
PHILIP.
I beg pardon. Go ahead.
ROOPE.
[_Sitting on the fauteuil-stool._] Mrs. Godfrey Anslow and Mrs. Wally
Quebec. Abuse _them_.
PHILIP.
Bless their innocent hearts! _They'll_ be glad to meet Mr. Green.
ROOPE.
I trust so.
PHILIP.
[_Scowling._] A couple of pushing, advertising women.
ROOPE.
Really----!
PHILIP.
Ha, ha! Sorry. That's five, with you and me.
ROOPE.
That's five, as you justly observe. [_Clearing his throat._] H'm! H'm!
PHILIP.
The sixth? I prepare myself for your great effect.
ROOPE.
[_With an effort._] Er--Madame de Chaumie is in London, Phil.
PHILIP.
[_Sitting upright._] Madame de Chaumie! [_Disturbed._] Is _she_ coming?
ROOPE.
Y-y-yes.
PHILIP.
[_Rising._] Confound you, Robbie----!
ROOPE.
[_Hastily._] She has got rid of her house in Paris and rejoined her
people. She's with them in Ennismore Gardens.
PHILIP.
Thank you, I'm aware of it. One reads of Ottoline's movements in every
rag one picks up. [_Walking over to the right._] She's the biggest
_chasseuse_ of the crowd.
ROOPE.
I assure you she appears very much altered.
PHILIP.
What, can the leopard change his spots!
ROOPE.
Her family may still bang the big drum occasionally, and give it an
extra whack on _her_ account; but Ottoline herself----
PHILIP.
Faugh! [_Returning to_ ROOPE.] Why the devil have you done this?
ROOPE.
[_Feebly._] I confess, in the hope of bringing about a reconciliation.
PHILIP.
You--you good-natured old meddler. [_Quickly._] Does she expect to find
me here?
ROOPE.
No.
PHILIP.
[_Making for the door on the left._] I'll bolt, then.
ROOPE.
[_Rising and seizing him._] You shall do nothing of the kind. [_Forcing
him down upon the fauteuil-stool._] You'll upset my luncheon-table!
[_Tidying himself._] You're most inconsiderate; you are positively. And
you've disarranged my necktie.
PHILIP.
[_In a low voice._] How is she looking, Robbie?
ROOPE.
Brilliant. [_Putting his necktie in order._] Is that straight?
Brilliant.
PHILIP.
[_ | 3,169.761753 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.7425570 | 2,360 | 14 |
Produced by D.R. Thompson
HISTORY OF FRIEDRICH II OF PRUSSIA
FREDERICK THE GREAT
By Thomas Carlyle
Volume X.
BOOK X. -- AT REINSBERG. - 1736-1740.
Chapter I. -- MANSION OF REINSBERG.
On the Crown-Prince's Marriage, three years ago, when the AMT or
Government-District RUPPIN, with its incomings, was assigned to him for
revenue, we heard withal of a residence getting ready. Hint had fallen
from the Prince, that Reinsberg, an old Country-seat, standing with
its Domain round it in that little Territory of Ruppin, and probably
purchasable as was understood, might be pleasant, were it once his
and well put in repair. Which hint the kind paternal Majesty instantly
proceeded to act upon. He straightway gave orders for the purchase of
Reinsberg; concluded said purchase, on fair terms, after some months'
bargaining; [23d October, 1733, order given,--16th March, 1734, purchase
completed (Preuss, i. 75).]--and set his best Architect, one Kemeter,
to work, in concert with the Crown-Prince, to new-build and enlarge
the decayed Schloss of Reinsberg into such a Mansion as the young Royal
Highness and his Wife would like.
Kemeter has been busy, all this while; a solid, elegant, yet frugal
builder: and now the main body of the Mansion is complete, or nearly so,
the wings and adjuncts going steadily forward; Mansion so far ready that
the Royal Highnesses can take up their abode in it. Which they do, this
Autumn, 1736; and fairly commence Joint Housekeeping, in a permanent
manner. Hitherto it has been intermittent only: hitherto the
Crown-Princess has resided in their Berlin Mansion, or in her own
Country-house at Schonhausen; Husband not habitually with her, except
when on leave of absence from Ruppin, in Carnival time or for shorter
periods. At Ruppin his life has been rather that of a bachelor, or
husband abroad on business; up to this time. But now at Reinsberg they
do kindle the sacred hearth together; "6th August, 1736," the date of
that important event. They have got their Court about them, dames and
cavaliers more than we expected; they have arranged the furnitures of
their existence here on fit scale, and set up their Lares and Penates
on a thrifty footing. Majesty and Queen come out on a visit to them next
month; [4th September, 1736 (Ib.).]--raising the sacred hearth into its
first considerable blaze, and crowning the operation in a human manner.
And so there has a new epoch arisen for the Crown-Prince and his
Consort. A new, and much-improved one. It lasted into the fourth year;
rather improving all the way: and only Kingship, which, if a higher
sphere, was a far less pleasant one, put an end to it. Friedrich's
happiest time was this at Reinsberg; the little Four Years of Hope,
Composure, realizable Idealism: an actual snatch of something like the
Idyllic, appointed him in a life-pilgrimage consisting otherwise of
realisms oftenest contradictory enough, and sometimes of very grim
complexion. He is master of his work, he is adjusted to the practical
conditions set him; conditions once complied with, daily work done,
he lives to the Muses, to the spiritual improvements, to the social
enjoyments; and has, though not without flaws of ill-weather,--from
the Tobacco-Parliament perhaps rather less than formerly, and from
the Finance-quarter perhaps rather more,--a sunny time. His innocent
insipidity of a Wife, too, appears to have been happy. She had the
charm of youth, of good looks; a wholesome perfect loyalty of character
withal; and did not "take to pouting," as was once apprehended of
her, but pleasantly gave and received of what was going. This poor
Crown-Princess, afterwards Queen, has been heard, in her old age,
reverting, in a touching transient way, to the glad days she had at
Reinsberg. Complaint openly was never heard from her, in any kind of
days; but these doubtless were the best of her life.
Reinsberg, we said, is in the AMT Ruppin; naturally under the
Crown-Prince's government at present: the little Town or Village of
Reinsberg stands about, ten miles north of the Town Ruppin;--not quite
a third-part as big as Ruppin is in our time, and much more pleasantly
situated. The country about is of comfortable, not unpicturesque
character; to be distinguished almost as beautiful, in that region
of sand and moor. Lakes abound in it; tilled fields; heights called
"hills;" and wood of fair growth,--one reads of "beech-avenues" of "high
linden-avenues:"--a country rather of the ornamented sort, before the
Prince with his improvements settled there. Many lakes and lakelets in
it, as usual hereabouts; the loitering waters straggle, all over that
region, into meshes of lakes. Reinsberg itself, Village and Schloss,
stands on the edge of a pleasant Lake, last of a mesh of such: the
SUMMARY, or outfall, of which, already here a good strong brook or
stream, is called the RHEIN, Rhyn or Rein; and gives name to the little
place. We heard of the Rein at Ruppin: it is there counted as a kind of
river; still more, twenty miles farther down, where it falls into the
Havel, on its way to the Elbe. The waters, I think, are drab-,
not peat-brown: and here, at the source, or outfall from that mesh
of lakes, where Reinsberg is, the country seems to be about the
best;--sufficient, in picturesqueness and otherwise, to satisfy a
reasonable man.
The little Town is very old; but, till the Crown-Prince settled there,
had no peculiar vitality in it. I think there are now some potteries,
glass-manufactories: Friedrich Wilhelm, just while the Crown-Prince
was removing thither, settled a first Glass-work there; which took
good root, and rose to eminence in the crystal, Bohemian-crystal,
white-glass, cut-glass, and other commoner lines, in the Crown-Prince's
time. [_Bescheibung des Lutschlosses &c. zu Reinsberg_ (Berlin, 1788);
Author, a "Lieutenant Hennert," thoroughly acquainted with his subject.]
Reinsberg stands on the east or southeast side of its pretty Lake: Lake
is called "the GRINERICK SEE" (as all those remote Lakes have their
names); Mansion is between the Town and Lake. A Mansion fronting, we may
say, four ways; for it is of quadrangular form, with a wet moat from
the Lake begirdling it, and has a spacious court for interior: but the
principal entrance is from the Town side; for the rest, the Building is
ashlar on all sides, front and rear. Stands there, handsomely abutting
on the Lake with two Towers, a Tower at each angle, which it has on that
lakeward side; and looks, over Reinsberg, and its steeple rising amid
friendly umbrage which hides the house-tops, towards the rising sun.
Townward there is room for a spacious esplanade; and then for the
stables, outbuildings, well masked; which still farther shut off the
Town. To this day, Reinsberg stands with the air of a solid respectable
Edifice; still massive, rain-tight, though long since deserted by
the Princeships,--by Friedrich nearly sixscore years ago, and nearly
threescore by Prince Henri, Brother of Friedrich's, who afterwards had
it. Last accounts I got were, of talk there had risen of planting an
extensive NORMAL-SCHOOL there; which promising plan had been laid aside
again for the time.
The old Schloss, residence of the Bredows and other feudal people for
a long while, had good solid masonry in it, and around it orchards,
potherb gardens; which Friedrich Wilhelm's Architects took good care to
extend and improve, not to throw away: the result of their art is what
we see, a beautiful Country-House, what might be called a Country-Palace
with all its adjuncts;--and at a rate of expense which would fill
English readers, of this time, with amazement. Much is admirable to us
as we study Reinsberg, what it had been, what it became, and how it was
made; but nothing more so than the small modicum of money it cost. To
our wondering thought, it seems as if the shilling, in those parts, were
equal to the guinea in these; and the reason, if we ask it, is by no
means flattering altogether. "Change in the value of money?" Alas,
reader, no; that is not above the fourth part of the phenomenon.
Three-fourths of the phenomenon are change in the methods of
administering money,--difference between managing it with wisdom and
veracity on both sides, and managing it with unwisdom and mendacity on
both sides. Which is very great indeed; and infinitely sadder than
any one, in these times, will believe!--But we cannot dwell on
this consideration. Let the reader take it with him, as a constant
accompaniment in whatever work of Friedrich Wilhelm's or of Friedrich
his Son's, he now or at any other time may be contemplating. Impious
waste, which means disorder and dishonesty, and loss of much other than
money to all, parties,--disgusting aspect of human creatures, master and
servant, working together as if they were not human,--will be spared
him in those foreign departments; and in an English heart thoughts will
arise, perhaps, of a wholesome tendency, though very sad, as times are.
It would but weary the reader to describe this Crown-Prince Mansion;
which, by desperate study of our abstruse materials, it is possible to
do with auctioneer minuteness. There are engraved VIEWS of Reinsberg
and its Environs; which used to lie conspicuous in the portfolios of
collectors,---which I have not seen | 3,169.762597 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.8383440 | 179 | 6 |
Produced by David Widger
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.
MARCH
1663-1664
March 1st. Up and to the office, where | 3,169.858384 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.8384580 | 262 | 8 |
This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.
COLLECTANEA
* * * * *
_DE DIVERSIS REBUS_
* * * * *
ADDRESSES AND PAPERS
BY
SIR PETER EADE, M.D., LOND.
_Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians_; _Hon. Fellow of King’s_
_College_, _London_; _Consulting Physician to the Norfolk and Norwich_
_Hospital_, _to the Jenny Lind Infirmary for Sick Children_, _and_
_to the Norwich Dispensary_; _Honorary Freeman of_
_the City of Norwich_
* * * * *
LONDON
JARROLD AND SONS, 10 AND 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C.
_All Rights Reserved_
1908
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ON RECREATION GROUNDS FOR NORWICH 9
II. ON TEMPERANCE AND AIDS TO TEMPERANCE 15
III. ON TORTOISES—_With Illustration_, 1908 29
IV. A FURT | 3,169.858498 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.8395270 | 7,436 | 57 |
Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
THE SWOOP!
or
How Clarence Saved England
_A Tale of the Great Invasion_
by P. G. Wodehouse
1909
PREFACE
It may be thought by some that in the pages which follow I have painted
in too lurid colours the horrors of a foreign invasion of England.
Realism in art, it may be argued, can be carried too far. I prefer to
think that the majority of my readers will acquit me of a desire to be
unduly sensational. It is necessary that England should be roused to a
sense of her peril, and only by setting down without flinching the
probable results of an invasion can this be done. This story, I may
mention, has been written and published purely from a feeling of
patriotism and duty. Mr. Alston Rivers' sensitive soul will be jarred
to its foundations if it is a financial success. So will mine. But in a
time of national danger we feel that the risk must be taken. After all,
at the worst, it is a small sacrifice to make for our country.
P. G. WODEHOUSE.
_The Bomb-Proof Shelter,_ _London, W._
Part One
Chapter 1
AN ENGLISH BOY'S HOME
_August the First, 19--_
Clarence Chugwater looked around him with a frown, and gritted his
teeth.
"England--my England!" he moaned.
Clarence was a sturdy lad of some fourteen summers. He was neatly, but
not gaudily, dressed in a flat-brimmed hat, a handkerchief, a
flannel shirt, a bunch of ribbons, a haversack, football shorts, brown
boots, a whistle, and a hockey-stick. He was, in fact, one of General
Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts.
Scan him closely. Do not dismiss him with a passing glance; for you are
looking at the Boy of Destiny, at Clarence MacAndrew Chugwater, who
saved England.
To-day those features are familiar to all. Everyone has seen the
Chugwater Column in Aldwych, the equestrian statue in Chugwater Road
(formerly Piccadilly), and the picture-postcards in the stationers'
windows. That bulging forehead, distended with useful information; that
massive chin; those eyes, gleaming behind their spectacles; that
_tout ensemble_; that _je ne sais quoi_.
In a word, Clarence!
He could do everything that the Boy Scout must learn to do. He could
low like a bull. He could gurgle like a wood-pigeon. He could imitate
the cry of the turnip in order to deceive rabbits. He could smile and
whistle simultaneously in accordance with Rule 8 (and only those who
have tried this know how difficult it is). He could spoor, fell trees,
tell the character from the boot-sole, and fling the squaler. He did
all these things well, but what he was really best at was flinging the
squaler.
* * * * *
Clarence, on this sultry August afternoon, was tensely occupied
tracking the family cat across the dining-room carpet by its
foot-prints. Glancing up for a moment, he caught sight of the other
members of the family.
"England, my England!" he moaned.
It was indeed a sight to extract tears of blood from any Boy Scout. The
table had been moved back against the wall, and in the cleared space
Mr. Chugwater, whose duty it was to have set an example to his
children, was playing diabolo. Beside him, engrossed in cup-and-ball,
was his wife. Reggie Chugwater, the eldest son, the heir, the hope of
the house, was reading the cricket news in an early edition of the
evening paper. Horace, his brother, was playing pop-in-taw with his
sister Grace and Grace's _fiance_, Ralph Peabody. Alice, the other
Miss Chugwater, was mending a Badminton racquet.
Not a single member of that family was practising with the rifle, or
drilling, or learning to make bandages.
Clarence groaned.
"If you can't play without snorting like that, my boy," said Mr.
Chugwater, a little irritably, "you must find some other game. You made
me jump just as I was going to beat my record."
"Talking of records," said Reggie, "Fry's on his way to his eighth
successive century. If he goes on like this, Lancashire will win the
championship."
"I thought he was playing for Somerset," said Horace.
"That was a fortnight ago. You ought to keep up to date in an important
subject like cricket."
Once more Clarence snorted bitterly.
"I'm sure you ought not to be down on the floor, Clarence," said Mr.
Chugwater anxiously. "It is so draughty, and you have evidently got a
nasty cold. _Must_ you lie on the floor?"
"I am spooring," said Clarence with simple dignity.
"But I'm sure you can spoor better sitting on a chair with a nice
book."
"_I_ think the kid's sickening for something," put in Horace
critically. "He's deuced roopy. What's up, Clarry?"
"I was thinking," said Clarence, "of my country--of England."
"What's the matter with England?"
"_She's_ all right," murmured Ralph Peabody.
"My fallen country!" sighed Clarence, a not unmanly tear bedewing the
glasses of his spectacles. "My fallen, stricken country!"
"That kid," said Reggie, laying down his paper, "is talking right
through his hat. My dear old son, are you aware that England has never
been so strong all round as she is now? Do you _ever_ read the
papers? Don't you know that we've got the Ashes and the Golf
Championship, and the Wibbley-wob Championship, and the Spiropole,
Spillikins, Puff-Feather, and Animal Grab Championships? Has it come to
your notice that our croquet pair beat America last Thursday by eight
hoops? Did you happen to hear that we won the Hop-skip-and-jump at the
last Olympic Games? You've been out in the woods, old sport."
Clarence's heart was too full for words. He rose in silence, and
quitted the room.
"Got the pip or something!" said Reggie. "Rum kid! I say, Hirst's
bowling well! Five for twenty-three so far!"
Clarence wandered moodily out of the house. The Chugwaters lived in a
desirable villa residence, which Mr. Chugwater had built in Essex. It
was a typical Englishman's Home. Its name was Nasturtium Villa.
As Clarence walked down the road, the excited voice of a newspaper-boy
came to him. Presently the boy turned the corner, shouting, "Ker-lapse
of Surrey! Sensational bowling at the Oval!"
He stopped on seeing Clarence.
"Paper, General?"
Clarence shook his head. Then he uttered a startled exclamation, for
his eye had fallen on the poster.
It ran as follows:--
SURREY
DOING
BADLY
GERMAN ARMY LANDS IN ENGLAND
Chapter 2
THE INVADERS
Clarence flung the boy a halfpenny, tore a paper from his grasp, and
scanned it eagerly. There was nothing to interest him in the body of
the journal, but he found what he was looking for in the stop-press
space. "Stop press news," said the paper. "Fry not out, 104. Surrey 147
for 8. A German army landed in Essex this afternoon. Loamshire
Handicap: Spring Chicken, 1; Salome, 2; Yip-i-addy, 3. Seven ran."
Essex! Then at any moment the foe might be at their doors; more, inside
their doors. With a passionate cry, Clarence tore back to the house.
He entered the dining-room with the speed of a highly-trained Marathon
winner, just in time once more to prevent Mr. Chugwater lowering his
record.
"The Germans!" shouted Clarence. "We are invaded!"
This time Mr. Chugwater was really annoyed.
"If I have told you once about your detestable habit of shouting in the
house, Clarence, I have told you a hundred times. If you cannot be a
Boy Scout quietly, you must stop being one altogether. I had got up to
six that time."
"But, father----"
"Silence! You will go to bed this minute; and I shall consider the
question whether you are to have any supper. It will depend largely on
your behaviour between now and then. Go!"
"But, father----"
Clarence dropped the paper, shaken with emotion. Mr. Chugwater's
sternness deepened visibly.
"Clarence! Must I speak again?"
He stooped and removed his right slipper.
Clarence withdrew.
Reggie picked up the paper.
"That kid," he announced judicially, "is off his nut! Hullo! I told you
so! Fry not out, 104. Good old Charles!"
"I say," exclaimed Horace, who sat nearest the window, "there are two
rummy-looking chaps coming to the front door, wearing a sort of fancy
dress!"
"It must be the Germans," said Reggie. "The paper says they landed here
this afternoon. I expect----"
A thunderous knock rang through the house. The family looked at one
another. Voices were heard in the hall, and next moment the door opened
and the servant announced "Mr. Prinsotto and Mr. Aydycong."
"Or, rather," said the first of the two newcomers, a tall, bearded,
soldierly man, in perfect English, "Prince Otto of Saxe-Pfennig and
Captain the Graf von Poppenheim, his aide-de-camp."
"Just so--just so!" said Mr. Chugwater, affably. "Sit down, won't you?"
The visitors seated themselves. There was an awkward silence.
"Warm day!" said Mr. Chugwater.
"Very!" said the Prince, a little constrainedly.
"Perhaps a cup of tea? Have you come far?"
"Well--er--pretty far. That is to say, a certain distance. In fact,
from Germany."
"I spent my summer holiday last year at Dresden. Capital place!"
"Just so. The fact is, Mr.--er--"
"Chugwater. By the way--my wife, Mrs. Chugwater."
The prince bowed. So did his aide-de-camp.
"The fact is, Mr. Jugwater," resumed the prince, "we are not here on a
holiday."
"Quite so, quite so. Business before pleasure."
The prince pulled at his moustache. So did his aide-de-camp, who seemed
to be a man of but little initiative and conversational resource.
"We are invaders."
"Not at all, not at all," protested Mr. Chugwater.
"I must warn you that you will resist at your peril. You wear no
uniform--"
"Wouldn't dream of such a thing. Except at the lodge, of course."
"You will be sorely tempted, no doubt. Do not think that I do not
appreciate your feelings. This is an Englishman's Home."
Mr. Chugwater tapped him confidentially on the knee.
"And an uncommonly snug little place, too," he said. "Now, if you will
forgive me for talking business, you, I gather, propose making some
stay in this country."
The prince laughed shortly. So did his aide-de-camp. "Exactly,"
continued Mr. Chugwater, "exactly. Then you will want some
_pied-a-terre_, if you follow me. I shall be delighted to let you
this house on remarkably easy terms for as long as you please. Just
come along into my study for a moment. We can talk it over quietly
there. You see, dealing direct with me, you would escape the
middleman's charges, and--"
Gently but firmly he edged the prince out of the room and down the
passage.
The aide-de-camp continued to sit staring woodenly at the carpet.
Reggie closed quietly in on him.
"Excuse me," he said; "talking shop and all that. But I'm an agent for
the Come One Come All Accident and Life Assurance Office. You have
heard of it probably? We can offer you really exceptional terms. You
must not miss a chance of this sort. Now here's a prospectus--"
Horace sidled forward.
"I don't know if you happen to be a cyclist, Captain--er--Graf; but if
you'd like a practically new motorbike, only been used since last
November, I can let you--"
There was a swish of skirts as Grace and Alice advanced on the visitor.
"I'm sure," said Grace winningly, "that you're fond of the theatre,
Captain Poppenheim. We are getting up a performance of 'Ici on parle
Francais,' in aid of the fund for Supplying Square Meals to Old-Age
Pensioners. Such a deserving object, you know. Now, how many tickets
will you take?"
"You can sell them to your friends, you know," added Mrs. Chugwater.
The aide-de-camp gulped convulsively.
* * * * *
Ten minutes later two penniless men groped their way, dazed, to the
garden gate.
"At last," said Prince Otto brokenly, for it was he, "at last I begin
to realise the horrors of an invasion--for the invaders."
And together the two men staggered on.
Chapter 3
ENGLAND'S PERIL
When the papers arrived next morning, it was seen that the situation
was even worse than had at first been suspected. Not only had the
Germans effected a landing in Essex, but, in addition, no fewer than
eight other hostile armies had, by some remarkable coincidence, hit on
that identical moment for launching their long-prepared blow.
England was not merely beneath the heel of the invader. It was beneath
the heels of nine invaders.
There was barely standing-room.
Full details were given in the Press. It seemed that while Germany was
landing in Essex, a strong force of Russians, under the Grand Duke
Vodkakoff, had occupied Yarmouth. Simultaneously the Mad Mullah had
captured Portsmouth; while the Swiss navy had bombarded Lyme Regis, and
landed troops immediately to westward of the bathing-machines. At
precisely the same moment China, at last awakened, had swooped down
upon that picturesque little Welsh watering-place, Lllgxtplll, and,
despite desperate resistance on the part of an excursion of Evanses and
Joneses from Cardiff, had obtained a secure foothold. While these
things were happening in Wales, the army of Monaco had descended on
Auchtermuchty, on the Firth of Clyde. Within two minutes of this
disaster, by Greenwich time, a boisterous band of Young Turks had
seized Scarborough. And, at Brighton and Margate respectively, small
but determined armies, the one of Moroccan brigands, under Raisuli, the
other of dark-skinned warriors from the distant isle of Bollygolla, had
made good their footing.
This was a very serious state of things.
Correspondents of the _Daily Mail_ at the various points of attack
had wired such particulars as they were able. The preliminary parley at
Lllgxtplll between Prince Ping Pong Pang, the Chinese general, and
Llewellyn Evans, the leader of the Cardiff excursionists, seems to have
been impressive to a degree. The former had spoken throughout in pure
Chinese, the latter replying in rich Welsh, and the general effect,
wired the correspondent, was almost painfully exhilarating.
So sudden had been the attacks that in very few instances was there any
real resistance. The nearest approach to it appears to have been seen
at Margate.
At the time of the arrival of the black warriors which, like the other
onslaughts, took place between one and two o'clock on the afternoon of
August Bank Holiday, the sands were covered with happy revellers. When
the war canoes approached the beach, the excursionists seem to have
mistaken their occupants at first for a troupe of <DW65> minstrels on
an unusually magnificent scale; and it was freely noised abroad in the
crowd that they were being presented by Charles Frohmann, who was
endeavouring to revive the ancient glories of the Christy Minstrels.
Too soon, however, it was perceived that these were no harmless Moore
and Burgesses. Suspicion was aroused by the absence of banjoes and
tambourines; and when the foremost of the <DW64>s dexterously scalped a
small boy, suspicion became certainty.
In this crisis the trippers of Margate behaved well. The Mounted
Infantry, on donkeys, headed by Uncle Bones, did much execution. The
Ladies' Tormentor Brigade harassed the enemy's flank, and a
hastily-formed band of sharp-shooters, armed with three-shies-a-penny
balls and milky cocos, undoubtedly troubled the advance guard
considerably. But superior force told. After half an hour's fighting
the excursionists fled, leaving the beach to the foe.
At Auchtermuchty and Portsmouth no obstacle, apparently, was offered to
the invaders. At Brighton the enemy were permitted to land unharmed.
Scarborough, taken utterly aback by the boyish vigour of the Young
Turks, was an easy prey; and at Yarmouth, though the Grand Duke
received a nasty slap in the face from a dexterously-thrown bloater,
the resistance appears to have been equally futile.
By tea-time on August the First, nine strongly-equipped forces were
firmly established on British soil.
Chapter 4
WHAT ENGLAND THOUGHT OF IT
Such a state of affairs, disturbing enough in itself, was rendered
still more disquieting by the fact that, except for the Boy Scouts,
England's military strength at this time was practically nil.
The abolition of the regular army had been the first step. Several
causes had contributed to this. In the first place, the Socialists had
condemned the army system as unsocial. Privates, they pointed out, were
forbidden to hob-nob with colonels, though the difference in their
positions was due to a mere accident of birth. They demanded that every
man in the army should be a general. Comrade Quelch, in an eloquent
speech at Newington Butts, had pointed, amidst enthusiasm, to the
republics of South America, where the system worked admirably.
Scotland, too, disapproved of the army, because it was professional.
Mr. Smith wrote several trenchant letters to Mr. C. J. B. Marriott on
the subject.
So the army was abolished, and the land defence of the country
entrusted entirely to the Territorials, the Legion of Frontiersmen, and
the Boy Scouts.
But first the Territorials dropped out. The strain of being referred to
on the music-hall stage as Teddy-boys was too much for them.
Then the Frontiersmen were disbanded. They had promised well at the
start, but they had never been themselves since La Milo had been
attacked by the Manchester Watch Committee. It had taken all the heart
out of them.
So that in the end England's defenders were narrowed down to the
Boy Scouts, of whom Clarence Chugwater was the pride, and a large
civilian population, prepared, at any moment, to turn out for their
country's sake and wave flags. A certain section of these, too, could
sing patriotic songs.
* * * * *
It was inevitable, in the height of the Silly Season, that such a topic
as the simultaneous invasion of Great Britain by nine foreign powers
should be seized upon by the press. Countless letters poured into the
offices of the London daily papers every morning. Space forbids more
than the gist of a few of these.
Miss Charlesworth wrote:--"In this crisis I see no alternative. I shall
disappear."
Mr. Horatio Bottomley, in _John Bull_, said that there was some
very dirty and underhand work going on, and that the secret history of
the invasion would be published shortly. He himself, however, preferred
any invader, even the King of Bollygolla, to some K.C.'s he could name,
though he was fond of dear old Muir. He wanted to know why Inspector
Drew had retired.
The _Daily Express_, in a thoughtful leader, said that Free Trade
evidently meant invaders for all.
Mr. Herbert Gladstone, writing to the _Times_, pointed out that he
had let so many undesirable aliens into the country that he did not see
that a few more made much difference.
Mr. George R. Sims made eighteen puns on the names of the invading
generals in the course of one number of "Mustard and Cress."
Mr. H. G. Pelissier urged the public to look on the bright side. There
was a sun still shining in the sky. Besides, who knew that some foreign
marksman might not pot the censor?
Mr. Robert FitzSimmons offered to take on any of the invading generals,
or all of them, and if he didn't beat them it would only be because the
referee had a wife and seven small children and had asked him as a
personal favour to let himself be knocked out. He had lost several
fights that way.
The directors of the Crystal Palace wrote a circular letter to the
shareholders, pointing out that there was a good time coming. With this
addition to the public, the Palace stood a sporting chance of once more
finding itself full.
Judge Willis asked: "What is an invasion?"
Signor Scotti cabled anxiously from America (prepaid): "Stands Scotland
where it did?"
Mr. Lewis Waller wrote heroically: "How many of them are there? I am
usually good for about half a dozen. Are they assassins? I can tackle
any number of assassins."
Mr. Seymour Hicks said he hoped they would not hurt George Edwardes.
Mr. George Edwardes said that if they injured Seymour Hicks in any way
he would never smile again.
A writer in _Answers_ pointed out that, if all the invaders in the
country were piled in a heap, they would reach some of the way to the
moon.
Far-seeing men took a gloomy view of the situation. They laid stress on
the fact that this counter-attraction was bound to hit first-class
cricket hard. For some years gates had shown a tendency to fall off,
owing to the growing popularity of golf, tennis, and other games. The
desire to see the invaders as they marched through the country must
draw away thousands who otherwise would have paid their sixpences at
the turnstiles. It was suggested that representations should be made to
the invading generals with a view to inducing them to make a small
charge to sightseers.
In sporting circles the chief interest centered on the race to London.
The papers showed the positions of the various armies each morning in
their Runners and Betting columns; six to four on the Germans was
freely offered, but found no takers.
Considerable interest was displayed in the probable behaviour of the
nine armies when they met. The situation was a curious outcome of the
modern custom of striking a deadly blow before actually declaring war.
Until the moment when the enemy were at her doors, England had imagined
that she was on terms of the most satisfactory friendship with her
neighbours. The foe had taken full advantage of this, and also of the
fact that, owing to a fit of absent-mindedness on the part of the
Government, England had no ships afloat which were not entirely
obsolete. Interviewed on the subject by representatives of the daily
papers, the Government handsomely admitted that it was perhaps in
some ways a silly thing to have done; but, they urged, you could not
think of everything. Besides, they were on the point of laying down a
_Dreadnought_, which would be ready in a very few years. Meanwhile,
the best thing the public could do was to sleep quietly in their beds.
It was Fisher's tip; and Fisher was a smart man.
And all the while the Invaders' Marathon continued.
Who would be the first to reach London?
Chapter 5
THE GERMANS REACH LONDON
The Germans had got off smartly from the mark and were fully justifying
the long odds laid upon them. That master-strategist, Prince Otto of
Saxe-Pfennig, realising that if he wished to reach the Metropolis
quickly he must not go by train, had resolved almost at once to walk.
Though hampered considerably by crowds of rustics who gathered, gaping,
at every point in the line of march, he had made good progress. The
German troops had strict orders to reply to no questions, with the
result that little time was lost in idle chatter, and in a couple of
days it was seen that the army of the Fatherland was bound, barring
accidents, to win comfortably.
The progress of the other forces was slower. The Chinese especially
had undergone great privations, having lost their way near
Llanfairpwlgwnngogogoch, and having been unable to understand the
voluble directions given to them by the various shepherds they
encountered. It was not for nearly a week that they contrived to reach
Chester, where, catching a cheap excursion, they arrived in the
metropolis, hungry and footsore, four days after the last of their
rivals had taken up their station.
The German advance halted on the wooded heights of Tottenham. Here a
camp was pitched and trenches dug.
The march had shown how terrible invasion must of necessity be. With no
wish to be ruthless, the troops of Prince Otto had done grievous
damage. Cricket-pitches had been trampled down, and in many cases even
golf-greens dented by the iron heel of the invader, who rarely, if
ever, replaced the divot. Everywhere they had left ruin and misery in
their train.
With the other armies it was the same story. Through
carefully-preserved woods they had marched, frightening the birds and
driving keepers into fits of nervous prostration. Fishing, owing to
their tramping carelessly through the streams, was at a standstill.
Croquet had been given up in despair.
Near Epping the Russians shot a fox....
* * * * *
The situation which faced Prince Otto was a delicate one. All his early
training and education had implanted in him the fixed idea that, if he
ever invaded England, he would do it either alone or with the
sympathetic co-operation of allies. He had never faced the problem of
what he should do if there were rivals in the field. Competition is
wholesome, but only within bounds. He could not very well ask the other
nations to withdraw. Nor did he feel inclined to withdraw himself.
"It all comes of this dashed Swoop of the Vulture business," he
grumbled, as he paced before his tent, ever and anon pausing to sweep
the city below him with his glasses. "I should like to find the fellow
who started the idea! Making me look a fool! Still, it's just as bad
for the others, thank goodness! Well, Poppenheim?"
Captain von Poppenheim approached and saluted.
"Please, sir, the men say, 'May they bombard London?'"
"Bombard London!"
"Yes, sir; it's always done."
Prince Otto pulled thoughtfully at his moustache.
"Bombard London! It seems--and yet--ah, well, they have few pleasures."
He stood awhile in meditation. So did Captain von Poppenheim. He kicked
a pebble. So did Captain von Poppenheim--only a smaller pebble.
Discipline is very strict in the German army.
"Poppenheim."
"Sir?"
"Any signs of our--er--competitors?"
"Yes, sir; the Russians are coming up on the left flank, sir. They'll
be here in a few hours. Raisuli has been arrested at Purley for
stealing chickens. The army of Bollygolla is about ten miles out. No
news of the field yet, sir."
The Prince brooded. Then he spoke, unbosoming himself more freely than
was his wont in conversation with his staff.
"Between you and me, Pop," he cried impulsively, "I'm dashed sorry we
ever started this dashed silly invading business. We thought ourselves
dashed smart, working in the dark, and giving no sign till the great
pounce, and all that sort of dashed nonsense. Seems to me we've simply
dashed well landed ourselves in the dashed soup."
Captain von Poppenheim saluted in sympathetic silence. He and the
prince had been old chums at college. A life-long friendship existed
between them. He would have liked to have expressed adhesion verbally
to his superior officer's remarks. The words "I don't think" trembled
on his tongue. But the iron discipline of the German Army gagged him.
He saluted again and clicked his heels.
The Prince recovered himself with a strong effort.
"You say the Russians will be here shortly?" he said.
"In a few hours, sir."
"And the men really wish to bombard London?"
"It would be a treat to them, sir."
"Well, well, I suppose if we don't do it, somebody else will. And we
got here first."
"Yes, sir."
"Then--"
An orderly hurried up and saluted.
"Telegram, sir."
Absently the Prince opened it. Then his eyes lit up.
"Gotterdammerung!" he said. "I never thought of that. 'Smash up London
and provide work for unemployed mending it.--GRAYSON,'" he read.
"Poppenheim."
"Sir?"
"Let the bombardment commence."
"Yes, sir."
"And let it continue till the Russians arrive. Then it must stop, or
there will be complications."
Captain von Poppenheim saluted, and withdrew.
Chapter 6
THE BOMBARDMENT OF LONDON
Thus was London bombarded. Fortunately it was August, and there was
nobody in town.
Otherwise there might have been loss of life.
Chapter 7
A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS
The Russians, led by General Vodkakoff, arrived at Hampstead half an
hour after the bombardment had ceased, and the rest of the invaders,
including Raisuli, who had got off on an _alibi_, dropped in at
intervals during the week. By the evening of Saturday, the sixth of
August, even the Chinese had limped to the metropolis. And the question
now was, What was going to happen? England displayed a polite
indifference to the problem. We are essentially a nation of
sight-seers. To us the excitement of staring at the invaders was
enough. Into the complex international problems to which the situation
gave rise it did not occur to us to examine. When you consider that a
crowd of five hundred Londoners will assemble in the space of two
minutes, abandoning entirely all its other business, to watch a
cab-horse that has fallen in the street, it is not surprising that the
spectacle of nine separate and distinct armies in the metropolis left
no room in the British mind for other reflections.
The attraction was beginning to draw people back to London now. They
found that the German shells had had one excellent result, they had
demolished nearly all the London statues. And what might have
conceivably seemed a draw-back, the fact that they had blown great
holes in the wood-paving, passed unnoticed amidst the more extensive
operations of the London County Council.
Taking it for all in all, the German gunners had simply been
beautifying London. The Albert Hall, struck by a merciful shell, had
come down with a run, and was now a heap of picturesque ruins;
Whitefield's Tabernacle was a charred mass; and the burning of the
Royal Academy proved a great comfort to all. At a mass meeting in
Trafalgar Square a hearty vote of thanks was passed, with acclamation,
to Prince Otto.
But if Londoners rejoiced, the invaders were very far from doing so.
The complicated state of foreign politics made it imperative that there
should be no friction between the Powers. Yet here a great number of
them were in perhaps as embarrassing a position as ever diplomatists
were called upon to unravel. When nine dogs are assembled round one
bone, it is rarely on the bone alone that teeth-marks are found at the
close of the proceedings.
Prince Otto of Saxe-Pfennig set himself resolutely to grapple with the
problem. His chance of grappling successfully with it was not improved
by the stream of telegrams which arrived daily from his Imperial
Master, demanding to know whether he had yet subjugated the country,
and if not, why not. He had replied guardedly, stating the difficulties
which lay in his way, and had received the following: "At once mailed
fist display. On Get or out Get.--WILHELM."
It was then that the distracted prince saw that steps must be taken at
once.
Carefully-worded letters were despatched by District Messenger boys to
the other generals. Towards nightfall the replies began to come in,
and, having read them, the Prince saw that this business could never be
settled without a personal interview. Many of the replies were
absolutely incoherent.
Raisuli, apologising for delay on the ground that he had been away in
the Isle of Dogs cracking a crib, wrote suggesting that the Germans and
Moroccans should combine with a | 3,169.859567 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.9343570 | 2,951 | 13 |
Produced by Dagny, John Bickers and David Widger
A SIMPLE SOUL
By Gustave Flaubert
CHAPTER I
For half a century the housewives of Pont-l'Eveque had envied Madame
Aubain her servant Felicite.
For a hundred francs a year, she cooked and did the housework, washed,
ironed, mended, harnessed the horse, fattened the poultry, made the
butter and remained faithful to her mistress--although the latter was by
no means an agreeable person.
Madame Aubain had married a comely youth without any money, who died in
the beginning of 1809, leaving her with two young children and a number
of debts. She sold all her property excepting the farm of Toucques and
the farm of Geffosses, the income of which barely amounted to 5,000
francs; then she left her house in Saint-Melaine, and moved into a less
pretentious one which had belonged to her ancestors and stood back of
the market-place. This house, with its slate-covered roof, was built
between a passage-way and a narrow street that led to the river. The
interior was so unevenly graded that it caused people to stumble. A
narrow hall separated the kitchen from the parlour, where Madame Aubain
sat all day in a straw armchair near the window. Eight mahogany chairs
stood in a row against the white wainscoting. An old piano, standing
beneath a barometer, was covered with a pyramid of old books and boxes.
On either side of the yellow marble mantelpiece, in Louis XV. style,
stood a tapestry armchair. The clock represented a temple of Vesta;
and the whole room smelled musty, as it was on a lower level than the
garden.
On the first floor was Madame's bed-chamber, a large room papered in a
flowered design and containing the portrait of Monsieur dressed in the
costume of a dandy. It communicated with a smaller room, in which there
were two little cribs, without any mattresses. Next, came the parlour
(always closed), filled with furniture covered with sheets. Then a hall,
which led to the study, where books and papers were piled on the shelves
of a book-case that enclosed three quarters of the big black desk.
Two panels were entirely hidden under pen-and-ink sketches, Gouache
landscapes and Audran engravings, relics of better times and vanished
luxury. On the second floor, a garret-window lighted Felicite's room,
which looked out upon the meadows.
She arose at daybreak, in order to attend mass, and she worked without
interruption until night; then, when dinner was over, the dishes cleared
away and the door securely locked, she would bury the log under the
ashes and fall asleep in front of the hearth with a rosary in her hand.
Nobody could bargain with greater obstinacy, and as for cleanliness,
the lustre on her brass sauce-pans was the envy and despair of other
servants. She was most economical, and when she ate she would gather up
crumbs with the tip of her finger, so that nothing should be wasted of
the loaf of bread weighing twelve pounds which was baked especially for
her and lasted three weeks.
Summer and winter she wore a dimity kerchief fastened in the back with a
pin, a cap which concealed her hair, a red skirt, grey stockings, and an
apron with a bib like those worn by hospital nurses.
Her face was thin and her voice shrill. When she was twenty-five, she
looked forty. After she had passed fifty, nobody could tell her
age; erect and silent always, she resembled a wooden figure working
automatically.
CHAPTER II
Like every other woman, she had had an affair of the heart. Her father,
who was a mason, was killed by falling from a scaffolding. Then her
mother died and her sisters went their different ways; a farmer took her
in, and while she was quite small, let her keep cows in the fields. She
was clad in miserable rags, beaten for the slightest offence and finally
dismissed for a theft of thirty sous which she did not commit. She took
service on another farm where she tended the poultry; and as she was
well thought of by her master, her fellow-workers soon grew jealous.
One evening in August (she was then eighteen years old), they persuaded
her to accompany them to the fair at Colleville. She was immediately
dazzled by the noise, the lights in the trees, the brightness of the
dresses, the laces and gold crosses, and the crowd of people all
hopping at the same time. She was standing modestly at a distance, when
presently a young man of well-to-do appearance, who had been leaning on
the pole of a wagon and smoking his pipe, approached her, and asked her
for a dance. He treated her to cider and cake, bought her a silk shawl,
and then, thinking she had guessed his purpose, offered to see her home.
When they came to the end of a field he threw her down brutally. But she
grew frightened and screamed, and he walked off.
One evening, on the road leading to Beaumont, she came upon a wagon
loaded with hay, and when she overtook it, she recognised Theodore. He
greeted her calmly, and asked her to forget what had happened between
them, as it "was all the fault of the drink."
She did not know what to reply and wished to run away.
Presently he began to speak of the harvest and of the notables of the
village; his father had left Colleville and bought the farm of Les
Ecots, so that now they would be neighbours. "Ah!" she exclaimed. He
then added that his parents were looking around for a wife for him, but
that he, himself, was not so anxious and preferred to wait for a girl
who suited him. She hung her head. He then asked her whether she had
ever thought of marrying. She replied, smilingly, that it was wrong of
him to make fun of her. "Oh! no, I am in earnest," he said, and put his
left arm around her waist while they sauntered along. The air was soft,
the stars were bright, and the huge load of hay oscillated in front of
them, drawn by four horses whose ponderous hoofs raised clouds of dust.
Without a word from their driver they turned to the right. He kissed her
again and she went home. The following week, Theodore obtained meetings.
They met in yards, behind walls or under isolated trees. She was not
ignorant, as girls of well-to-do families are--for the animals had
instructed her;--but her reason and her instinct of honour kept her from
falling. Her resistance exasperated Theodore's love and so in order
to satisfy it (or perchance ingenuously), he offered to marry her. She
would not believe him at first, so he made solemn promises. But, in a
short time he mentioned a difficulty; the previous year, his parents had
purchased a substitute for him; but any day he might be drafted and the
prospect of serving in the army alarmed him greatly. To Felicite his
cowardice appeared a proof of his love for her, and her devotion to him
grew stronger. When she met him, he would torture her with his fears and
his entreaties. At last, he announced that he was going to the prefect
himself for information, and would let her know everything on the
following Sunday, between eleven o'clock and midnight.
When the time grew near, she ran to meet her lover.
But instead of Theodore, one of his friends was at the meeting-place.
He informed her that she would never see her sweetheart again; for,
in order to escape the conscription, he had married a rich old woman,
Madame Lehoussais, of Toucques.
The poor girl's sorrow was frightful. She threw herself on the ground,
she cried and called on the Lord, and wandered around desolately until
sunrise. Then she went back to the farm, declared her intention of
leaving, and at the end of the month, after she had received her
wages, she packed all her belongings in a handkerchief and started for
Pont-l'Eveque.
In front of the inn, she met a woman wearing widow's weeds, and upon
questioning her, learned that she was looking for a cook. The girl
did not know very much, but appeared so willing and so modest in her
requirements, that Madame Aubain finally said:
"Very well, I will give you a trial."
And half an hour later Felicite was installed in her house.
At first she lived in a constant anxiety that was caused by "the style
of the household" and the memory of "Monsieur," that hovered over
everything. Paul and Virginia, the one aged seven, and the other
barely four, seemed made of some precious material; she carried them
pig-a-back, and was greatly mortified when Madame Aubain forbade her to
kiss them every other minute.
But in spite of all this, she was happy. The comfort of her new
surroundings had obliterated her sadness.
Every Thursday, friends of Madame Aubain dropped in for a game of
cards, and it was Felicite's duty to prepare the table and heat the
foot-warmers. They arrived at exactly eight o'clock and departed before
eleven.
Every Monday morning, the dealer in second-hand goods, who lived under
the alley-way, spread out his wares on the sidewalk. Then the city would
be filled with a buzzing of voices in which the neighing of horses, the
bleating of lambs, the grunting of pigs, could be distinguished, mingled
with the sharp sound of wheels on the cobble-stones. About twelve
o'clock, when the market was in full swing, there appeared at the front
door a tall, middle-aged peasant, with a hooked nose and a cap on the
back of his head; it was Robelin, the farmer of Geffosses. Shortly
afterwards came Liebard, the farmer of Toucques, short, rotund and
ruddy, wearing a grey jacket and spurred boots.
Both men brought their landlady either chickens or cheese. Felicite
would invariably thwart their ruses and they held her in great respect.
At various times, Madame Aubain received a visit from the Marquis de
Gremanville, one of her uncles, who was ruined and lived at Falaise on
the remainder of his estates. He always came at dinner-time and brought
an ugly poodle with him, whose paws soiled their furniture. In spite of
his efforts to appear a man of breeding (he even went so far as to raise
his hat every time he said "My deceased father"), his habits got the
better of him, and he would fill his glass a little too often and relate
broad stories. Felicite would show him out very politely and say: "You
have had enough for this time, Monsieur de Gremanville! Hoping to see
you again!" and would close the door.
She opened it gladly for Monsieur Bourais, a retired lawyer. His bald
head and white cravat, the ruffling of his shirt, his flowing brown
coat, the manner in which he took snuff, his whole person, in fact,
produced in her the kind of awe which we feel when we see extraordinary
persons. As he managed Madame's estates, he spent hours with her in
Monsieur's study; he was in constant fear of being compromised, had a
great regard for the magistracy and some pretensions to learning.
In order to facilitate the children's studies, he presented them with
an engraved geography which represented various scenes of the world;
cannibals with feather head-dresses, a gorilla kidnapping a young girl,
Arabs in the desert, a whale being harpooned, etc.
Paul explained the pictures to Felicite. And, in fact, this was her only
literary education.
The children's studies were under the direction of a poor devil employed
at the town-hall, who sharpened his pocket-knife on his boots and was
famous for his penmanship.
When the weather was fine, they went to Geffosses. The house was built
in the centre of the sloping yard; and the sea looked like a grey spot
in the distance. Felicite would take slices of cold meat from the lunch
basket and they would sit down and eat in a room next to the dairy. This
room was all that remained of a cottage that had been torn down.
The dilapidated wall-paper trembled in the drafts. Madame Aubain,
overwhelmed by recollections, would hang her head, while the children
were afraid to open their mouths. Then, "Why don't you go and play?"
their mother would say; and they would scamper off.
Paul would go to the old barn, catch birds, throw stones into the pond,
or pound the trunks of the trees with a stick till they resounded like
drums. Virginia would feed the rabbits and run to pick the wild flowers
in the fields, and her flying legs would disclose her little embroidered
pantalettes. One autumn evening, they struck out for home through the
meadows. The new moon illumined part of the sky and a mist hovered like
a veil over the sinuosities of the river. Oxen, lying in the pastures,
gazed | 3,169.954397 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.9345630 | 2,974 | 8 |
Produced by Roger Burch with scans provided by the Internet Archive.
The History of
Orange County
New York
EDITED BY
RUSSEL HEADLEY
PUBLISHED BY
VAN DRUSEN AND ELMS
MIDDLETOWN, NEW YORK
1909
PREFACE
In presenting this new History of Orange County to the public, we do
so in the earnest hope that it will prove to be the most complete
compilation of local chronicles that has up to this time been offered
to our citizens. The authenticity of the facts contained in the
various articles is as absolute as the utmost care could make it. The
data have been procured from the best known authorities, and the
sketches, when completed, have been subjected to the most searching
examination for verification and correction. That no errors will be
discovered in this production, is too much to hope for; but we do
most certainly trust, that if any such errors there be, neither in
number nor by their nature, will they be found to be sufficiently
important to detract from that character for reliability, which it
has been our constant aim and endeavor to impart to this history.
In this new work the design has been, to make clear the development
of ideas and institutions from epoch to epoch; the social and
economic conditions of the people have been preserved in the
narrative, and much attention has been paid to describing the civil
characteristics of the several towns and cities, both in the conduct
of their local affairs and also in relation to each other and the
county at large.
It is a well-known fact that considerable prejudice exists among a
great body of the people toward county histories in general, for the
reason that some such compilations in the past, have been composed of
fact and fiction so intermingled, as to render it a difficult matter
to know what was true and what was false. It has been our object in
this work to hew straight to the line, satisfied to simply furnish
such information as we were able to gather concerning each important
matter or interesting event; and where the desired materials were
lacking, we have not attempted to supply that lack, by filling in the
vacant niches with products of the imagination. We have not striven
for effect, but our object is merely to give an authentic account of
facts recent and remote, so disposed in a proper and orderly manner,
as to enable our readers to clearly understand the history of their
county from its origin down to the present day.
It is the limitation attached to all works devoted to general
history, that from their very character only a superficial knowledge
of the men and their times can be derived from them, while on the
other hand, that which they lack is supplied by local histories of
this nature, whose great value in adding to the fund of human
knowledge cannot be overestimated; for they are the only mediums
through which we can get the whole story of the economy of life,
practiced by those men and women in every county in our broad land,
which eventually resulted in transforming a wilderness into a garden,
and from a weak and needy folk, creating a rich and mighty nation. It
has long been recognized by every scholar, that the knowledge of such
humble elements is absolutely essential, in order that the mind may
intelligently grasp the potent factors which go to make up history.
Hence, our correct understanding of the advancement and growth of a
people varies in just such proportion as the narrative of their daily
lives is full or incomplete.
The history of our own county cannot be studied too often; for it is
one of great interest, and the record revealed is a proud one. There
is no section of the country possessing more of historic interest,
nor does one exist, as closely identified with those crucial events
connected with the formative period of the Republic. In this county
was held the last cantonment of the Revolutionary army, here
Washington passed a large portion of his time, and within our borders
he rendered his greatest service to our country.
At the time the army went into winter quarters at Little Britain in
1782, although peace was not declared until the following year, yet
it was well understood that the long war was over and the States were
at last independent of Great Britain. The knowledge of this fact
naturally inclined the minds of men to a consideration of the form of
government to be adopted for the infant commonwealth, and nowhere did
the matter receive more attention than in that encampment, and from
those soldiers whose deeds in arms had made the happy consummation
possible.
The leisure entailed from the long relief from active duty which
ensued after going into camp, afforded ample opportunity for both the
officers and men of the army to discuss this question in all its
bearings. It must be borne in mind that republics were not much in
favor at that period, while the incompetent and discreditable manner
in which Congress had conducted the national affairs for years, had
created profound distrust and widespread discontent. Under the
circumstances it is not so surprising that, believing nothing but
chaos and ruin would be the lot of the country should the form of
government then in force be continued, the army should have finally
declared for a limited monarchy, and desired Washington as king.
The deputation of Colonel Nicola to present the subject to Washington
does not require repetition here, nor the details of the manner in
which that great man resolutely put aside all feelings of personal
ambition, and so sternly repressed the movement for all time, that
our present form of free government became an assured fact. These
events are merely mentioned to bring vividly to the mind the
recollection of the important connection our county sustained toward
that great drama, and also to bring clearly home the fact, that even
though the sun of liberty rose first from the green at Lexington or
the bridge at Concord, the gestation of the Republic occurred on the
banks of the Hudson in the old county of Orange.
Some criticism of this work has been occasioned through the inclusion
therein of biographical sketches; but we are certain that upon calm
reflection it will be seen that such objections rest upon no
substantial foundation. The narratives of the lives of men and their
acts constitute all there is of history. If it be true that all that
our county shows in the way of growth and development, is entirely
due to the men and women who originally peopled this region, and
worthily performed those parts allotted to them in the general scheme
of life, during their existence here, it is equally true that their
successors who still abide with us, took up the burden where it fell
from the hands of the fathers, and most signally continued the work,
and carried it forward to success. If the works themselves are
deserving of commendation, surely the workers and finishers thereof
are entitled to the honor of some mention.
In sending forth this volume, we trust that in addition to its value
as a depository of accurate information and useful knowledge, it will
also prove an effective instrument in creating a more active public
sentiment regarding historical subjects, and especially foster an
interest in the annals of our own county.
The editor would be wanting in gratitude did he fail to acknowledge
his obligations to the well-known writer, the late Mr. Edward M.
Ruttenber. The whole historical field comprising that period prior to
the Revolutionary era, has been so carefully gleaned over by that
indefatigable and accurate historiographer, that there remains little
or nothing that is new, to reward any subsequent investigator into
the history of that era, and therefore all who include that epoch in
any sketch, must perforce draw largely from the store of valuable
materials gathered by him. The editor also desires to return his
sincere thanks to our numerous contributors, for their cheerful
assistance, and especially for the painstaking care exhibited by them
in the preparation of those articles which appear herein, and whose
excellence constitutes the chief merit of this work.
That the efforts of myself and associates have fallen short of the
high standard we had set up for ourselves at the inception of our
labors, we are well aware; but we do at least claim, that we have in
some material degree, contributed in this volume to the "rescuing
from oblivion and preserving the services which others have performed
for God and country and fellow men." If the public by its verdict
allows this claim to stand, our reward will be ample and we shall
rest well content.
Russel Headley.
Dated, July 14, 1908.
CONTENTS
Part I
CHAPTER I-X
The County of Orange
CHAPTER XI.
The Town of Blooming Grove...... By Benjamin C. Sears
CHAPTER XII.
The Town of Chester ......... By Frank Durland
CHAPTER XIII.
The Town of Cornwall......... By E. M. V. McClean
CHAPTER XIV.
The Town of Crawford......... By J. Erskine Ward
CHAPTER XV.
The Town of Deer Park ........
CHAPTER XVI.
The Town of Goshen.......... By George F. Gregg
CHAPTER XVII.
The Town of Greenville........ By Charles E. Stickney
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Town of Hamptonburgh....... By Margaret Crawford Jackson
CHAPTER XIX.
The Town of Highlands........ By Captain Theodore Faurot
CHAPTER XX.
The Town of Minisink ........ By Charles E. Stickney
CHAPTER XXI.
The Town of Monroe ......... By M. N. Kane
CHAPTER XXII.
The Town of Montgomery ....... By David A. Morrison
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Town of Mount Hope........ By Wickham T. Shaw
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Town of Newburgh ........
CHAPTER XXV.
The City of Newburgh ........
CHAPTER XXVI.
The Town of New Windsor....... By Dr. C. A. Gorse
CHAPTER XXVII.
The Town of Tuxedo..........
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Town of Wallkill......... By William B. Royce
CHAPTER XXIX.
The Town of Warwick ......... By Ferdinand V. Sanford
CHAPTER XXX.
The Town of Wawayanda ........ By Charles E. Stickney
CHAPTER XXXI.
The Town of Woodbury.........
CHAPTER XXXII.
The Bench and Bar .......... By William Vanamee
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The Medical Profession........ By John T. Howell, M.D.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
The Schools ............. By John M. Dolph
CHAPTER XXXV.
The Churches............. By Rev. Francis Washburn
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Agriculture ............. By David A. Morrison
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Journalism.............. By W. T. Doty
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Freemasonry ............. By Charles H. Halstead
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Horse Breeding............ By Guy Miller
CHAPTER XL.
Dairying...............
* * * * *
PART II.
Biographical Sketches
THE COUNTY OF ORANGE
CHAPTER I.
COUNTY, PRECINCTS AND TOWNS.
Orange was one of the earliest counties of the State, dating back to
1683. when it was organized by a colony law. It was also one of those
formed by a general act of organization in 1788, when it included the
present county of Rockland, and was described as extending from the
limits of East and West Jersey on the west side of the Hudson River
along the river to Murderer's Creek, or the bounds of Ulster County,
and westward into the woods as far as Delaware River--that is, all
that part of the state south of an easterly and westerly line from
the mouth of Murderer's Creek to the Delaware River or northerly line
of Pennsylvania. In 1797 Rockland county was set off from it, and
five towns from Ulster were added. Its boundaries were definitely
fixed by an act of the New York legislature adopted April 3rd, 1801.
The previous act of April 5th, 1797, provided that five towns, then a
part of the County of Ulster, should be annexed to the county of
Orange, and that the courts should hold their sessions alternately at
Newburgh and Goshen. Two days afterward another act was passed
defining the boundary lines of the towns composing the newly
constructed county, and naming them as follows: Blooming Grove,
Chesekook, Deer Park, Goshen, Minisink, Montgomery, New Windsor,
Newburgh, Wallkill and Warwick. There were subsequent changes, and
the following is a list of the present towns, with the years of their
erection, and the territories from which they were taken:
Blooming Grove, 1799, taken from Cornwall; Cornwall, 1788, as New
Cornwall, and changed to Cornwall in | 3,169.954603 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.9388510 | 1,306 | 8 |
Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org
(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive.]
CATHAY
TRANSLATIONS BY
EZRA POUND
FOR THE MOST PART FROM THE CHINESE
OF RIHAKU, FROM THE NOTES OF THE
LATE ERNEST FENOLLOSA, AND
THE DECIPHERINGS OF THE
PROFESSORS MORI
AND ARIGA
LONDON
ELKIN MATHEWS, CORK STREET
MCMXV
Rihaku flourished in the eighth century of our era. The
Anglo-Saxon Seafarer is of about this period. The other
poems from the Chinese are earlier.
Song of the Bowmen of Shu
Here we are, picking the first fern-shoots
And saying: When shall we get back to our country?
Here we are because we have the Ken-nin for our
foemen,
We have no comfort because of these Mongols.
We grub the soft fern-shoots,
When anyone says "Return," the others are full of
sorrow.
Sorrowful minds, sorrow is strong, we are hungry
and thirsty.
Our defence is not yet made sure, no one can let
his friend return.
We grub the old fern-stalks.
We say: Will we be let to go back in October?
There is no ease in royal affairs, we have no comfort.
Our sorrow is bitter, but we would not return to our
country.
What flower has come into blossom?
Whose chariot? The General's.
Horses, his horses even, are tired. They were strong.
We have no rest, three battles a month.
By heaven, his horses are tired.
The generals are on them, the soldiers are by them
The horses are well trained, the generals have ivory
arrows and quivers ornamented with fish-skin.
The enemy is swift, we must be careful.
When we set out, the willows were drooping with spring,
We come back in the snow,
We go slowly, we are hungry and thirsty,
Our mind is full of sorrow, who will know of our grief?
_By Kutsugen._
_4th Century B.C._
The Beautiful Toilet
Blue, blue is the grass about the river
And the willows have overfilled the close garden.
And within, the mistress, in the midmost of her youth,
White, white of face, hesitates, passing the door.
Slender, she puts forth a slender hand,
And she was a courtezan in the old days,
And she has married a sot,
Who now goes drunkenly out
And leaves her too much alone.
_By Mei Sheng._
_B.C. 140._
The River Song
This boat is of shato-wood, and its gunwales are cut
magnolia,
Musicians with jewelled flutes and with pipes of gold
Fill full the sides in rows, and our wine
Is rich for a thousand cups.
We carry singing girls, drift with the drifting water,
Yet Sennin needs
A yellow stork for a charger, and all our seamen
Would follow the white gulls or ride them.
Kutsu's prose song
Hangs with the sun and moon.
King So's terraced palace
is now but a barren hill,
But I draw pen on this barge
Causing the five peaks to tremble,
And I have joy in these words
like the joy of blue islands.
(If glory could last forever
Then the waters of Han would flow northward.)
And I have moped in the Emperor's garden, awaiting
an order-to-write!
I looked at the dragon-pond, with its willow-coloured
water
Just reflecting the sky's tinge,
And heard the five-score nightingales aimlessly singing.
The eastern wind brings the green colour into the island
grasses at Yei-shu,
The purple house and the crimson are full of Spring
softness.
South of the pond the willow-tips are half-blue and
bluer,
Their cords tangle in mist, against the brocade-like
palace.
Vine-strings a hundred feet long hang down from carved
railings,
And high over the willows, the fine birds sing to each
other, and listen,
Crying--"Kwan, Kuan," for the early wind, and the feel
of it.
The wind bundles itself into a bluish cloud and wanders off.
Over a thousand gates, over a thousand doors are the sounds
of spring singing,
And the Emperor is at Ko.
Five clouds hang aloft, bright on the purple sky,
The imperial guards come forth from the golden house with
their armour a-gleaming.
The emperor in his jewelled car goes out to inspect his
flowers,
He goes out to Hori, to look at the wing-flapping storks,
He returns by way of Sei rock, to hear the new nightingales,
For the gardens at Jo-run are full of new nightingales,
Their sound is mixed in this flute,
Their voice is in the twelve pipes here.
_By Rihaku._
_8th century A.D._
The River-Merchant's Wife: a Letter
While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.
At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed | 3,169.958891 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.9399360 | 1,305 | 11 |
E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Matthew Wheaton, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 41828-h.htm or 41828-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41828/41828-h/41828-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41828/41828-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://archive.org/details/generalbounceorl00whyt
GENERAL BOUNCE
[Illustration: "'Where have you been all day? You promised to
drive me out--you know you did!'"
_Page 77_]
GENERAL BOUNCE
or
The Lady and the Locusts
by
G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE
Author of "Katerfelto," "The Interpreter," "Market Harborough," etc.
Illustrated by Frances E. Ewan
London
Ward, Lock & Co., Limited
New York and Melbourne
PREFACE
Where the rose blushes in the garden, there will the bee and the
butterfly be found, humming and fluttering around. So is it in the
world; the fair girl, whose sweetness is enhanced by the fictitious
advantages of wealth and position, will ever have lovers and admirers
enough and to spare.
Burns was no bad judge of human nature; and he has a stanza on this
subject, combining the reflection of the philosopher with the _canny_
discrimination of the Scot.
"Away with your follies of beauty's alarms,
The _slender_ bit beauty you clasp in your arms;
But gi'e me the lass that has acres of charms,
Oh, gi'e me the lass with the _weel-plenished_ farms."
Should the following pages afford such attractive young ladies matter
for a few moments' reflection, the author will not have written in
vain.
May he hope they will choose well and wisely; and that the withered
rose, when she has lost her fragrance, may be fondly prized and gently
tended by the hand that plucked her in her dewy morning prime.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. My Cousin 9
II. The Abigail 26
III. The Handsome Governess 41
IV. "Libitina" 58
V. Uncle Baldwin 72
VI. The Blind Boy 85
VII. Boot and Saddle 101
VIII. The Ball 116
IX. Want 130
X. Superfluity 146
XI. Campaigning Abroad 161
XII. Campaigning at Home 177
XIII. The World 194
XIV. To Persons about to Marry 204
XV. Penelope and her Suitors 212
XVI. Forgery 225
XVII. Club Law 236
XVIII. The Strictest Confidence 247
XIX. Dispatches 259
XX. Dawn in the East 276
XXI. Hospital 292
XXII. The Widow 303
XXIII. "Stop her" 309
XXIV. King Crack 323
XXV. "Dulce Domum" 333
XXVI. "Eudaemon" 347
XXVII. Flood and Field 360
XXVIII. "The Sad Sea Wave" 374
GENERAL BOUNCE
_OR, THE LADY AND THE LOCUSTS_
CHAPTER I
MY COUSIN
AN ENGLISHMAN'S HOLIDAY--ST. SWITHIN'S IN A CALM--THE
MERCHANT'S AMBITION--"MON BEAU COUSIN"--CASTLES IN THE AIR--A
LIVELY CRAFT--"HAIRBLOWER" AND HIS COLD BATH
Much as we think of ourselves, and with all our boasted civilisation,
we Anglo-Saxons are but a half-barbarian race after all. Nomadic,
decidedly nomadic in our tastes, feelings, and pursuits, it is but the
moisture of our climate that keeps us in our own houses at all, and
like our Scandinavian ancestors (for in turf parlance we have several
crosses of the old Norse blood in our veins), we delight
periodically--that is, whenever we have a fortnight's dry weather--to
migrate from our dwellings, and peopling the whole of our own
sea-board, push our invading hordes over the greater part of Europe,
nor refrain from thrusting our outposts even into the heart of Asia,
till the astonished Mussulman, aghast at our vagaries, strokes his
placid beard, and with a blessing on his Prophet that he is not as we
are, soothes his disgust with a sentiment, so often repeated that in
the East it has become a proverb--viz. that "There is one devil, and
there are many devils; but there is _no_ devil like a Frank in a round
hat!"
It was but last autumn that, stepping painfully into our tailor's
shop--for, alas! a course of London dinners cannot be persisted in,
season after season, without producing a decided tendency to gout in
the extremities--hobbling, then, into our tailor's warehouse, as he
calls it, we were measured by an unfledged jackanapes, whose voice we
had previously heard warning his brother fractions that "an old gent
was a waitin' inside," instead of that spruce foreman who, for more
years than | 3,169.959976 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.9408210 | 112 | 46 |
Produced by Eric Hutton, Jane Hyland and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
OLD AND NEW LONDON.
[Illustration: CASSELL'S OLD & NEW LONDON, PLATE 10.
THE THAMES EMBANKMENT.]
[Illustration: CASSELL'S OLD & NEW LONDON, PLATE 9.
THE ROYAL EXCHANGE & BANK OF ENGLAND.]
[Illustration: CASSELL'S OLD & NEW LONDON. PLATE 8 | 3,169.960861 |
2023-11-16 19:09:53.9466370 | 2,361 | 7 |
Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
scanned images of public domain material from the Google
Print project.
THE GIRLS AND I
[Illustration: 'We ran over the fields by a short cut to a stile on to
the road, where we could see her pass, and there we shouted out again
all our messages.'--c. xi. p. 168.]
THE GIRLS AND I: A
Veracious History
[Illustration]
BY MRS MOLESWORTH
Illustrated by L. Leslie Brooke
London Macmillan & Co.
MDCCCXCII
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I OURSELVES 1
CHAPTER II THE DIAMOND ORNAMENT 16
CHAPTER III WORK FOR THE TOWN-CRIER 30
CHAPTER IV AT THE DANCING CLASS 46
CHAPTER V RODNEY SQUARE 63
CHAPTER VI THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 79
CHAPTER VII FOUR 'IF'S' AND A COINCIDENCE 95
CHAPTER VIII MOSSMOOR FARM 110
CHAPTER IX SPYING THE LAND 125
CHAPTER X A LONG AGO ADVENTURE 140
CHAPTER XI MISCHIEF IN THE AIR 157
CHAPTER XII MISS CROSS-AT-FIRST'S FUR CAPE 173
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
'JACK, DO HELP ME TO FASTEN THIS BRACELET' 24
'I'D GIVE ANYTHING, I'D ALMOST GIVE MYSELF, TO FIND IT' 48
'THE DOOR OPENED A LITTLE WIDER, AND TWO FACES APPEARED' 74
'I JUST STOOD STILL... AND LOOKED WELL ROUND AT THE VIEW AND
EVERYTHING' 130
'HER GRANDMOTHER... WENT QUIETLY OUT OF THE PEW WITHOUT A
NOTION BUT THAT THE CHILD WAS BESIDE HER' 153
'WE RAN OVER THE FIELDS BY A SHORT CUT TO A STILE ON TO THE
ROAD, WHERE WE COULD SEE HER PASS, AND THERE WE SHOUTED OUT
AGAIN ALL OUR MESSAGES' 168
'WE ALL THREE SAT LISTENING AND LISTENING' 175
CHAPTER I
OURSELVES
I'm Jack. I've always been Jack, ever since I can remember at least,
though I suppose I must have been called 'Baby' for a bit before Serena
came. But she's only a year and a half younger than me, and Maud's only
a year and a quarter behind her, so I can scarcely remember even Serena
being 'Baby'; and Maud's always been so very grown up for her age that
you couldn't fancy her anything but 'Maud.'
My real name isn't John though, as you might fancy. It's a much queerer
name, but there's always been one of it in our family ever since some
grandfather or other married a German girl, who called her eldest son
after her own father. So we're accustomed to it, and it doesn't seem so
queer to us as to other people. It's 'Joachim.' 'Jock' seems a better
short for it than 'Jack,' doesn't it? and I believe mother once meant to
call me 'Jock.' But when Serry and Maud came I _had_ to be Jack, for
with Anne and Hebe in front of me, and the two others behind, of course
I was 'Jack-in-the-middle.' There's never been any more of us, and even
if there had I'd have stayed Jack, once I'd got settled into it, you
see.
I'm eleven. I'm writing this in the holidays; and if I don't get it
finished before they're done I'll keep adding on to it till I've told
all there is to tell.
It's a sort of comfort to me to write about everything, for one way and
another I've had a good deal to put up with, all because of--_girls_.
And I have to be good-tempered and nice just because they _are_ girls.
And besides that, I'm really very fond of them; and they're not bad. But
no one who hasn't tried it knows in the least what it is to be one boy
among a lot of girls,'specially when some of them are rather boy-ey
girls, and when you yourself are just a little perhaps--just a very
little--the other way.
I don't think I'm a baby. Honestly I don't, and I'm not going to write
down anything I don't _quite_ think. But I do like to be quiet, and I
like to have things tidy and regular. I like rules, and keeping to them;
and I hate racket and mess. Anne, now, drives me nearly wild with her
rushy, helter-skelter ways. You wouldn't think it, would you,
considering that she's fourteen, and the eldest, and that she's been the
eldest all her life?--eldests _should_ be steady and good examples. And
her name sounds steady and neat, doesn't it? and yet of all the untidy,
unpunctual--no, I mustn't let myself go like that. Besides, it's quite
true, as Hebe says, Anne has got a very good heart, and she's very
particular in some _mind_ ways; she never says a word that isn't quite
true--she doesn't even exaggerate. I have noticed that rather tiresome,
careless people often have very good hearts. I wish they could see how
much nicer it would be for other people if they'd put some of their good
hearts into their tiresome ways.
On the whole, it's Hebe that suits the best with me. She
particular--_much_ more particular than Anne, though not quite as
particular as _I'd_ like her to be, and then she is really awfully
sweet. That makes her a little worrying sometimes, for she will take
sides. If I am in a great state at finding our postage stamps all
muddled, for instance--Anne and Hebe and I have a collection together, I
am sorry to say--and _I_ know who's been at them and say something--who
could help saying something if they found a lot of carefully-sorted ones
ready to gum in, all pitched into the unsorted box with Uncle Brian's
last envelopeful that I haven't looked over?--up flies Hebe in Anne's
defence.
'Poor Anne, she was in such a hurry, she never meant it'; or'she only
wanted to help you, Jack; she didn't know you had sorted these.'
Now, isn't that rather trying? For it makes me feel as if I was horrid;
and if Hebe would just say, 'Yes, it _is_ awfully tiresome,' I'd feel I
had a sort of right to be vexed, and when you feel that, the vexedness
often goes away.
Still, there's no doubt Hebe _is_ sweet, and I daresay she flies up for
me just as she does for the others when I am the one not there.
We're all very fond of Hebe. She and Serena are rather like each other;
they have fair fluffy hair and rosy cheeks, but they're not a bit like
each other in themselves. Serena is a terrible tomboy--worse than Anne,
for she really never thinks at all. Anne does mean to think, but she
does it the wrong way; she gets her head so full of some one thing that
she forgets everything else, and then she's awfully sorry. But Serry
just doesn't think at all, though she's very good-natured, and, of
course, when it comes to really vexing or hurting any one, she's sorry
too--for about a minute and a half!
And then there's Maud. It is very funny about Maud, the oddest thing
about us, though we are rather a topsy-turvy family. Maud is only eight
and a half, but she's the oldest of us all.
'She's that terrible old-fashioned,' mother's old nurse said when she
came to pay us a visit once,'she's scarce canny.'
They call _me_ old-fashioned sometimes, but I'm nothing to Maud. Why,
bless you (I learnt that from old nurse, and I like it, and nobody can
say it's naughty to bless anybody), compared to Maud I'm careless, and
untidy, and unpunctual, and heedless, and everything of these kinds that
I shouldn't be. And yet she and I don't get on as well as Hebe and I do,
and in some ways even not as well as Anne and I do. But Maud and Anne
get on very well-- I never saw anything like it. She tidies for Anne;
she reminds her of things she's going to forget; she seems to think she
was sent into the world to take care of her big sister. Anne is big--at
least she's tall--tall and thin, and with rather smooth dark hair. My
goodness! if she'd had fluffy hair like us three middle ones--for even
mine is rather a bother, it grows so fast and is so curly--what _would_
she have looked like? She seems meant to be neat, and till you know her,
and go her all over pretty closely, you'd never guess how untidy she
is--pins all over, even though Sophy is _always_ mending her frocks and
things. And Maud is dark too, though her hair is curly like ours; she's
like a gipsy, people say, but she's not a bit gipsy in her _ways_--oh
dear, no!
We live in London--mostly, that's to say. We've got a big dark old house
that really belongs to grandfather, but he's so little there that he
lets us use it, for father has to be in London a lot. We're always there
in winter; that's the time grandfather's generally in France or Egypt,
or somewhere warm. Now and then, if he's later of going away than usual,
or sooner of coming back, he's with us a while in London. We don't like
it much.
That sounds unkind. I don't mean to be unkind. I'm just writing
everything down because I want to practise myself at it. Father writes
books--very clever ones, though they're stories. I've read bits, but I
didn't understand them much, only I know they're very clever by the fuss
that's made about them | 3,169.966677 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.1401510 | 179 | 12 |
Produced by Greg Bergquist, Cathy Maxam, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
WITH FIRE AND SWORD
[Illustration]
[Illustration: W. T. Sherman]
[Illustration: S. H. M. Byers.]
With Fire and Sword
BY
MAJOR S. H. M. BYERS
OF GENERAL SHERMAN'S STAFF
Author of "Sherman's March to the Sea," "Iowa
in War Times," "Twenty Years in
Europe," and of other books
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
1911
Copyright, | 3,170.160191 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.2404270 | 5,932 | 46 |
Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet
Archive/Canadian Libraries)
THE WALCOTT TWINS
BY
LUCILE LOVELL
ILLUSTRATED BY IDA WAUGH
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
PHILADELPHIA MCM
Copyright 1900 by The Penn Publishing Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Gay and May 5
II The First Separation 11
III Just for Fun 16
IV A Remarkable Household 23
V More Confusion 30
VI Being a Boy 37
VII Being a Girl 44
VIII A Scene at Rose Cottage 49
IX Saw and Axe 56
X A Course of Training 62
XI The Training Begins 68
XII A Silver-haired Lady 75
XIII A Plan that Failed 82
XIV The Boy Predominates 89
XV Gay's Popularity Begins 97
XVI A Squad of One 106
XVII Concerning Philip 114
XVIII Dark Days 122
XIX The Event of the Season 130
XX The Belle of Hazelnook 141
XXI The Sky Brightens 151
XXII The Dearest Girl 162
XXIII A Great Game 172
XXIV The Idol Totters 181
XXV The Girls make Peace 189
XXVI All's Right Again 194
XXVII Happy People 199
THE WALCOTT TWINS
CHAPTER I
GAY AND MAY
The Mistress of the house lay among her pillows, her brows drawn into
the nearest semblance of a frown that her gentle countenance could
assume. Nurse—bearing a tiny, moving bundle of muslin and flannel—and
the father were at the bedside.
The father's forehead wore an unmistakable frown. It was evident that
something displeased him, but who would have dreamed that it was the
gurgling mite in the flannel blanket? Yet he pointed in that direction
as he said,—
"Take him away. He has made trouble enough."
"H'indeed, Mr. Walcott," cried nurse, "'E's the best baby h'I' ave ever
seen h'in this 'ouse! 'E's never cried before."
"Take him away!" repeated the father, still frowning. "He may be
the best baby in the world—a future President of the United States,
even,—but he can't stay in this room another minute. Do you
understand?"
"Certainly, sir," nurse replied somewhat tartly.
Nurse thought the father a great bear. Of course she could not tell
him so, but she could and she did show him that an imported English
nurse chooses her own rate of speed. She moved slowly toward the door,
holding her head with its imposing white cap well up in the air, and
looking at Baby as though he were a Crown Prince, instead of the
youngest nursling in an American flock of five. While the door was open
for nurse and her precious burden to pass through, sounds of boisterous
mirth floated into the quiet chamber. It was only the twins, Gay and
May, and little Ned—Alice was in the country—at play in the nursery,
but one would have said that half the children in New York city were
shouting together. The invalid tried to stifle a sigh which did not
escape the father's ear.
"Those torments must go, Elinor!" he exclaimed. "That is the only way
to ensure your recovery."
"Oh, Edward, how can I live without my dear little ones!" murmured the
gentle mother.
Mr. Walcott took his wife's transparent hands in his own and caressed
them tenderly. "Do you want our children's mother to have nerves as
much out of tune as a cracked bell?" said he.
"No."
"Then they must go to-morrow."
"Not Ned—he is too young to be sent away from me."
"Very well; Ned shall stay—three servants may be able to keep him in
order! Now let me see those letters."
Mrs. Walcott drew two letters from beneath her pillow and passed them
to her husband. "Read them aloud," said she; "I half-read them."
Mr. Walcott drew from one of the envelopes a single sheet of blue thin
paper covered with small precise characters traced in the blackest
of ink, with the bluntest of quills. As he moved it a gritty shower
fell, showing the writer to be of the old school which prefers sand to
blotting paper.
"My Dear Nephew," Mr. Walcott began, "It gives me great pain to learn
that your dear wife remains ill. Now, I have a proposition to make;
send Gay up here for a fortnight. His presence will be inexpressibly
grateful to me, and his absence may be a relief to you at this time.
Wire me your decision. My compliments to Elinor, and believe me to be,
"Yours truly,
"HAROLD S. HAINES."
"P. S. You may think it singular that I have not included May in
my invitation, but, candidly, a woman child under my roof would be
sufficient excuse for me to leave it altogether, so I trust you will
understand and pardon my omission. Tell Elinor that Sarah will take
the best of care of the young rascal.
"H. S. H."
"Cedarville, N. Y. Aug. 6, 19——."
"A characteristic postscript," laughed Mr. Walcott. "Uncle Harold's
antipathy to 'a petticoat', as he is fond of calling one of your sex,
dear, seems to increase."
"His antipathy is quite out of proportion to our little daughter's
half-yard petticoat," responded the Mistress, smiling faintly. "But go
on, please, with Auntie's letter."
The second letter was quite unlike the first; it was penned in the
most delicate handwriting, on fine white paper, ornamented with a
silver crest, and as Mr. Walcott unfolded it a faint odor of that
old-fashioned scent, lavender, was shed on the air. "A gentlewoman's
letter," one would have said at once.
"Dear Niece Elinor," read Mr. Walcott. "We were deeply grieved to
hear of your protracted illness, and we are sure that if you were to
be relieved of the care of one of the children your recovery would
be rapid. Will you not send May to us for a fortnight? You need give
yourself no uneasiness about the dear child's welfare; it will be
Celia's and my pleasure to take the best care of her. Let us know by
telegram when she will leave New York and we will make arrangements
for her to come from the railway station by the stage that passes our
door—the driver is a most reliable person. With best wishes for your
speedy return to health, and with kind remembrances to Edward, in
which Celia joins, I am, my dear niece,
"Your affectionate aunt,
"BEULAH LINN."
"P. S. Celia suggests that you may think it odd that we have not
included Gay in our invitation, but the truth is, we should not know
what to do with a lively, noisy boy. We shall enjoy May very much if
she is like Alice, wholly without those failings of modern childhood—a
pert tongue, boisterous manners, and slang.
"B. L."
"Hazelnook, N. Y., Aug. 6, 19——."
"It is rather strange, isn't it, Edward, that the aunts will have none
of Gay, while the uncle disdains May? It will break their hearts to
separate them."
"It is better so, my dear. Doting father that I am I cannot deny that
Gay and May make a team that gentle maiden ladies or a quiet old
bachelor would find difficult to manage! Shall I go out now and wire
our good relatives that they may expect the children to-morrow?"
"Yes," the Mistress replied, with a sigh of resignation. "And send Gay
and May to me, please—they will receive their sentence of banishment
best from my lips."
CHAPTER II
THE FIRST SEPARATION
They stole across the nursery floor and through the hall on tiptoe;
because they had promised father to be "as still as mice."
So far so good! Not the slyest nibbler of cheese in the house could
have moved more softly than Gay and May. It was the quietest procession
that ever marched until it reached the threshold of the Mistress's
chamber when it fell into wild confusion; Gay, in his desire to catch
the first glimpse of mother, stepped on May's heel and that made May
scream. It wasn't a loud scream, to be sure, but it was louder than the
most frantic mouse could squeak, and quite loud enough to rouse the
mother from the light slumber into which she had fallen. She opened
her eyes, then closed them again as she lay there on her couch so
motionless that her children crept to her side and touched her to see
if she slept. Then she opened her eyes once more and smiled; not her
old joyous smile, but one so faint that Gay's eyes filled with tears.
Taking his mother's pale, beautiful face between his hands he kissed it
gently—not very gently, perhaps, for a boy's kiss is rarely as light
as a fairy's, although his heart is quite as tender—and this won for
him a kiss in return.
"We meant to be very quiet, mother," said Gay, with another penitent
kiss. "But something always happens."
"Yes, something always happens," said May, who invariably echoed Gay's
sentiments and followed his example, as became a twin sister.
"Mother understands, my darlings," the Mistress softly murmured.
"It was one of our mishaps," continued Gay. "You know we can't keep out
of them, mother. When we don't go to them they just follow right round
after us, as if they were alive!"
In truth, it seemed as if this were so. Their eleven years had been
crowded with adventures; not particularly stirring nor remarkable,
but harmless and ludicrous adventures such as seem to come to some
children unsought. It must be owned, however, in their case, that had
not the adventure appeared promptly on the scene they would have gone
in search of it, Gay leading and May a close second. As they apparently
led a charmed life, emerging unscathed from their scrapes, no one was
disposed to criticise them severely. Alice once said:
"Gay and May are just like cats; no matter how badly they may be
placed, when they jump they always land on their feet!" And the entire
family regarded this as a figurative, but correct, estimate of the
luck that constantly attended the twins.
Of past pranks little need be said, since it is the purpose of this
story to relate the greatest escapade of their lives, but it may as
well be stated that many of their mishaps were due to the remarkable
resemblance existing between them.
Gay and May were much more alike than two peas; they were as identical
as two perfectly symmetrical beads. Cover knickerbockers and jacket,
skirt and bodice, and no one could tell which closely-cropped head was
May's,—which Gay's! In height they did not vary a hair's breadth. In
step and movement they were precisely the same. In voice no musician
could detect the difference of an infinitesimal part of a tone. Not a
ray of light sparkled in one pair of hazel eyes that was not reflected
in the other. Even in the wild rose of their cheeks Dame Nature was
careful to preserve the same tint. Not a dimple, not a smile; not a
look, nor a gesture in one that was not repeated in the other. If there
were mental or moral differences, these were not noticeable when they
were together; both were healthy, daring, and honest, with hearts for
any fate, providing there was fun enough in it. It is not singular,
therefore, that such striking similarity in character and appearance
produced many complications.
In their babyhood, Gay wore a pink, and May a blue ribbon for
identification, but, if by chance these distinguishing marks became
displaced, it often followed that Gay was kissed and coddled for a
girl; while poor May was bounced and tossed and trotted for a boy. When
they were put in short frocks the same mistakes were made.
"There'll be no such confusion when Gay puts on trousers," prophesied a
sage relative of the family. Alas! for prophet; when Gay became a real
boy in knickerbockers, the work of confusion still went on. Indeed,
after knickerbockers began to play their part, it was worse than ever,
for the twins were then old enough to understand the value of their
resemblance in solid fun.
No truthful chronicler of their tricks would undertake to tell how
many times the burden of Gay's misdoing was accepted by May, who lay
demurely in bed, in broad daylight, in that young worthy's place, while
he escaped to the park, there to sport in freedom. Nor how Gay took
May's dose of castor oil, the medicine of all others most abhorred
by her; nor how more than once he bore the ten strokes of the rattan
designed for her palm, on his own, both remedies being administered
by nurse, and received by the culprit or patient, as the case might
be, in a pinafore donned for the occasion. Gay and May were not model
children, but they possessed one splendid trait in common; they shared
alike the pleasure and pain that fell to their lot, for their hearts
were both loyal and generous.
Now let us return to the chamber of the Mistress. While Gay and May sat
at her bedside, trying to "make her well" by kisses and petting, you
may be sure the mother thought some time of the approaching separation
before mentioning it, but at length she told them of the invitations
they had received and of their father's wishes.
They heard her through in open-eyed amazement. Gay looked at May,
and May returned the glance; then they clasped each other and cried
together:
"Separate us, mother? It can't be done!"
CHAPTER III
JUST FOR FUN
The twins were in the nursery the next morning, when Jane told them
that their father had gone away at an early hour, on business.
"Thomas will take you to the station," said Jane.
"What dreadful luck!" sighed Gay.
"Perfectly dreadful!" echoed May.
Not that they disliked Thomas. On the contrary, they liked him very
well, but they had anticipated much pleasure in going to the station in
their father's company; to be deprived of this was to have their cup of
sorrow filled to overflowing.
"You must dress yourselves this morning," continued Jane. "Nurse is
busy with your mother and I must take care of baby. I've laid out your
clothes; when you are dressed go right down to breakfast; you've no
time to play. Mary has baked some little muffins for you, and you can
have orange marmalade and raspberry jam, both. Now, make haste." And
busy Jane hurried away.
"Muffins! Does Jane think muffins will make us happy?" cried Gay,
scornfully.
"It was good of Mary to bake them for us," said May, secretly thinking
that hot muffins and marmalade were sovereign aids to happiness, though
she did not dare to say so to Gay.
"Well, let's hurry up," said Gay, darting, with the swiftness of a
swallow, into his room.
May was more deliberate in her movements, or, rather, her method of
making her toilet differed somewhat from her brother's. With May, a
bath was a preliminary operation; with Gay, it came last and could
scarcely be called a bath at all, since he simply dipped his face and
hands in the basin, and ignored the tub altogether, except upon such
occasions as Jane enforced a thorough scrubbing. Family statistics show
this dislike to soap and water to be a chronic ailment among boys from
seven to fourteen years of age, but Gay always explained it by saying
he was "rushed for time."
May was just pattering in from the bath-room when Gay emerged from his
room fully dressed—more fully dressed, in fact, than he had been for a
number of years.
"Why, Gay Walcott, you've got on my clothes!" May cried.
"I know it," replied Gay, piroueting airily around the room. "Jane must
be crazy; she put your clothes in my room."
May ran into her room. "And yours in here," said she. "Come and get
them, and give me mine."
"Try on mine—just for fun," urged Gay. "We'll see if Jane can tell the
difference—which is which."
"There isn't time," objected May, rather faintly.
"There's lots of time," said Gay, who was never "rushed" when there was
a chance for a prank.
When May came out of her room wearing Gay's clothes they stared at each
other an instant, then ran to the mirror and stood before it, side by
side, and stared at their reflections there.
"Oh!" cried May, "I am not sure that I am I!"
"You are not you," Gay answered, "you are I, and I am you. I hear Jane
coming! What do you suppose she'll say?"
"Dear, dear!" cried Jane, bustling into the room. "Don't stand there
looking into the glass. Why won't you hurry? You should have been half
through breakfast by this time. Why, how clean your hands and face are,
Master Gay—and I declare, you've actually brushed your hair!"
Jane looked from one to the other in unfeigned amazement. May giggled,
but neither spoke.
"I'm surprised," Jane began, giving May a reproving glance. "Your sash
isn't straight, Miss May. Turn around."
The sash was somewhat awry, for Gay, unaccustomed to such fripperies,
had tied it under his left shoulder blade. He turned round and Jane
fixed it, then giving his borrowed skirt several twitches, she said:
"Seems to me you don't look quite as well as usual, Miss May. If you
get untidy while your ma's sick she'll feel awful bad. But run along,
now, to breakfast."
The twins exchanged significant glances: Jane had not detected them,
May was about to exonerate herself from the charge of untidiness when
Gay whispered: "Don't tell till we've tried it on Thomas and Mary."
"But——" May commenced.
"Let the goats butt; don't you try it, May!" said frolicsome Gay,
pulling her after him out of the nursery.
In the dining-room Thomas and breakfast awaited them.
"Good morning, Thomas," said the mock May, very glibly.
"Good morning, Miss," responded unsuspicious Thomas. "Good morning,
Master Gay."
"Good morning," replied the mock boy, not less glibly than the other
conspirator.
"How do you think we look, Thomas," Gay continued; "as well as usual?"
"You look fine, Miss, fine," Thomas answered. "As for Master Gay
there, I've never seen him look so neat."
This evidence of Thomas's mystification delighted the twins almost
beyond concealment. They would have betrayed themselves had not Mary,
the cook, appeared upon the scene. She carried two pasteboard boxes and
she gave one to each of the children, saying, "Yer luncheon, dharlin',
for ye'll be afther gettin' hungry on the cars. There's rolls, an' ham,
an' fowl, an' harrd biled eggs, an'——"
"And little cakes!" interrupted May, with a scream of delight.
"Yes,—wid icin'," Mary replied, with a broad smile, for the twins were
her especial pets. "But I niver knew that ye liked cake; I t'ought it
was Miss May what had the swate toot!"
Gay and May smiled appreciatively at Mary's mistake. They were trying
to explain to her that their gastronomical tastes were similar when
nurse sailed majestically into the room.
"Mary," said she, "h'I'll see you h'in the kitchen. Thomas, 'urry hup;
you must go h'in ten minutes. Children, Jane wants you h'in the 'all."
Before coming to America, nurse had been under-nurse-maid in an
aristocratic English family, but from her deportment one would have
supposed her to have been nurse to the Queen's own children. So
majestic, pompous, and domineering was she that no one ventured to
oppose or question her control. Therefore, when she ordered the group
in the dining-room to separate they promptly separated without murmur
or ado!
"They never suspected anything!" chuckled Gay, as he left the room with
May. "We really must try it on mother, then we'll tell."
But Jane's first words when they reached the hall destroyed all hope of
testing the mother.
"You mustn't fuss," Jane began, "you must be good and not make any
trouble, but the doctor says you can't see your ma before you go."
"Why not?" the twins demanded in one voice.
"Because the doctor says if she gets as nervous to-day as she did
yesterday that he won't answer for the consequences. She must be kept
perfectly quiet."
"If it's for mother's good——" Gay began.
"It is for her good," Jane said.
"Then we won't fuss," sighed May.
"That's a good fellow," cried Jane, patting the mock boy's head.
May made up her mouth to tell Jane the truth, when nurse and Thomas
joined them; Thomas, with Ned on his shoulder, and nurse carrying
wraps, hats, and the lunch-boxes.
"Mercy hun h'us!" nurse exclaimed, "you h'ought to be h'off now."
As she spoke she seized the real May, and, before the child could
speak, buttoned her into a jacket and set a tarpaulin sailor on her
head.
The real Gay had his turn next. Nurse shook him into a light ulster and
fastened a straw hat, trimmed with daisies, on his head by an elastic
band which snapped under his chin with a loud noise.
All this time the twins had been struggling to speak. "But, nurse,"
they began, impetuously, for this was carrying the joke too far, "we——"
"You can say good-by to Ned when you come 'ome," said nurse, who
thought they wanted to waste valuable time in farewells. "H'off with
you!"
The real May was a picture of distress, but her more volatile brother
seized her by the hand and whispered: "Never mind; it's only keeping up
the lark; I've got the worst of it, too, in these horrid skirts."
CHAPTER IV
A REMARKABLE HOUSEHOLD
Everybody in Cedarville knew and respected General Haines. His
ancestors for four generations had lived and died in the fine old
mansion which he now occupied. The General was commonly considered a
"character." He was dignified in appearance and irascible in temper; a
perfect martinet on the subject of deportment in the rising generation;
a stern enemy to cowardice and untruthfulness, while in many other
matters he was as impracticable as a babe and as timorous as an old
lady. His face was bearded and stern; his voice terrible. Whenever he
lost his temper, which was every other minute, he shouted as though
he had been at the head of an army. His heart was tender withal, and
altogether he was as remarkable a gentleman as one often meets.
He was unmarried because he had never known a woman the equal of his
mother, whose memory he adored. He had lived, since his mother's death,
a life of comparative isolation in the old Haines' mansion, which was
conducted as nearly as possible after the fashion of the last century,
for the General hated innovations. He rarely left home, and he had not
seen the Walcott twins since their babyhood.
In his housekeeper, Sarah, General Haines had a counterpart to
the full as eccentric as himself. Warm-hearted, quick-tempered,
and sharp-tongued, Sarah was the only person for whom the General
felt wholesome awe. She ruled him completely; strangely enough she
considered him the reverse of forbidding. This is not so singular,
perhaps, in the light of the fact that the General seldom made a move
without first consulting Sarah; when he did he generally regretted it!
His letter to Mr. Walcott was an instance where he had acted without
orders, and when his nephew telegraphed that Gay would arrive on
the noon train from New York, on the 8th of August, the doughty
General realized what he had done. He had bidden a guest, possibly a
troublesome one, to his house without Sarah's knowledge. No wonder he
trembled and carried Mr. Walcott's telegram crumpled in his pocket two
hours before he mentioned it!
On the eventful evening that May and Gay received their sentence of
banishment, and at about the same hour, General Haines paced back and
forth on the broad porch of his house, with the terrible telegram in
his pocket. As he walked, he called himself a coward, and declared
over and over again that he would be master in his own house!
This device for promoting courage he repeated several times, but it
would not work. At the end of a half hour he was no better prepared to
face Sarah than he had been in the beginning. Just as he was repeating
for the fiftieth time the dreadful fib that he would be master in his
own house or he would know the reason why, Sarah passed the porch. She
wore a white dimity sunbonnet, although the sun had gone down in the
west, and carried a small watering-pot. She had been giving her asters
a shower-bath by way of encouraging them to flower early. She did not
appear to notice General Haines.
"Sarah," said the General.
The sunbonneted head turned in his direction, but there was no other
evidence of interest.
"Sarah, let us take tea in the library, this evening," the General
continued, in what he believed to be a persuasive tone.
"Very well," came from the depths of the sunbonnet.
The General had intended to speak of the telegram, but there was
something ominous in the movements of that hidden head, and he | 3,170.260467 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.2425250 | 6,397 | 45 |
Produced by Carla Foust and The Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Transcriber's note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. A printer
error has been changed, and it is listed at the end. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original.
[Illustration: CHALK, HOUSE WHERE DICKENS SPENT HIS HONEYMOON]
DICKENS-LAND
Described by J. A. NICKLIN
Pictured by E. W. HASLEHUST
[Illustration]
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY 1911
Beautiful England
_Volumes Ready_
OXFORD
THE ENGLISH LAKES
CANTERBURY
SHAKESPEARE-LAND
THE THAMES
WINDSOR CASTLE
CAMBRIDGE
NORWICH AND THE BROADS
THE HEART OF WESSEX
THE PEAK DISTRICT
THE CORNISH RIVIERA
DICKENS-LAND
WINCHESTER
THE ISLE OF WIGHT
CHESTER AND THE DEE
YORK
_Uniform with this Series_
Beautiful Ireland
LEINSTER
ULSTER
MUNSTER
CONNAUGHT
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Chalk, House where Dickens spent his honeymoon _Frontispiece_
Gadshill Place from the Gardens 8
Rochester from Strood 14
Restoration House, Rochester 20
Cobham Park 26
Cooling Church 32
Aylesford 38
Maidstone, All Saints' Church and the Palace 42
Jasper's Gateway 46
Chalk Church 50
Shorne Church 54
The Leather Bottle, Cobham 58
[Illustration]
The central shrine of a literary cult is at least as often its hero's
home of adoption as his place of birth. To the Wordsworthian,
Cockermouth has but a faint, remote interest in comparison with Grasmere
and Rydal Mount. Edinburgh, for all its associations with the life and
the genius of Scott, is not as Abbotsford, or as that beloved Border
country in which his memory has struck its deepest roots. And so it is
with Dickens. The accident of birth attaches his name but slightly to
Landport in South-sea. The Dickens pilgrim treads in the most palpable
footsteps of "Boz" amongst the landmarks of a Victorian London, too
rapidly disappearing, and through the "rich and varied landscape" on
either side of the Medway, "covered with cornfields and pastures, with
here and there a windmill or a distant church", which Dickens loved from
boyhood, peopled with the creatures of his teeming fancy, and chose for
his last and most-cherished habitation.
What Abbotsford was to Scott, that, almost, to Dickens in his later
years was Gadshill Place. From his study window in the "grave red-brick
house" "on his little Kentish freehold"--a house which he had "added to
and stuck bits upon in all manner of ways, so that it was as pleasantly
irregular and as violently opposed to all architectural ideas as the
most hopeful man could possibly desire"--he looked out, so he wrote to a
friend, "on as pretty a view as you will find in a long day's English
ride.... Cobham Park and Woods are behind the house; the distant Thames
is in front; the Medway, with Rochester and its old castle and
cathedral, on one side." On every side he could not fail to reach, in
those brisk walks with which he sought, too strenuously, perhaps, health
and relaxation, some object redolent of childish dreams or mature
achievement, of intimate joys and sorrows, of those phantoms of his
brain which to him then, as to hundreds of thousands of his readers
since, were not less real than the men and women of everyday encounter.
On those seven miles between Rochester and Maidstone, which he
discovered to be one of the most beautiful walks in England, he might be
tempted to strike off at Aylesford for a short stroll to such a
pleasant old Elizabethan mansion as Cobtree Hall, the very type, it may
be, of Manor Farm, Dingley Dell, or for a longer tramp to Town Malling,
from which he may well have borrowed many strokes for the picture of
Muggleton, that town of sturdy Kentish cricket. Sometimes he would walk
across the marshes to Gravesend, and returning through the village of
Chalk, would pause for a retrospective glance at the house where his
honeymoon was spent and a good part of _Pickwick_ planned. In the latter
end of the year, when he could take a short cut through the stubble
fields from Higham to the marshes lying further down the Thames, he
would often visit the desolate churchyard where little Pip was so
terribly frightened by the convict. Or, descending the long <DW72> from
Gadshill to Strood, and crossing Rochester Bridge--over the balustrades
of which Mr. Pickwick leaned in agreeable reverie when he was accosted
by Dismal Jemmy--the author of _Great Expectations_ and _Edwin Drood_
would pass from Rochester High Street--where Mr. Pumblechook's seed shop
looks across the way at Miss Twinkleton's establishment--into the Vines,
to compare once more the impression on his unerring "inward eye" with
the actual features of that Restoration House which, under another name,
he assigned to Miss Havisham, and so round by Fort Pitt to the Chatham
lines. And there--who can doubt?--if he seemed to hear the melancholy
wind that whistled through the deserted fields as Mr. Winkle took his
reluctant stand, a wretched and desperate duellist, his thoughts would
also stray to the busy dockyard town and "a blessed little room" in a
plain-looking plaster-fronted house from which dated all his early
readings and imaginings.
Between the "very small and not-over-particularly-taken-care-of boy" and
the strong, self-reliant man whose fame had filled two continents,
Gadshill Place was an immediate link. Everyone knows the story which
Dickens tells of a vision of his former self meeting him on the road to
Canterbury.
"So smooth was the old high road, and so fresh were the horses, and
so fast went I, that it was midway between Gravesend and Rochester,
and the widening river was bearing the ships, white-sailed or
black-smoked, out to sea, when I noticed by the wayside a very
queer small boy.
"'Halloa!' said I to the very queer small boy, 'where do you live?'
"'At Chatham,' says he.
"'What do you do there?' say I.
"'I go to school,' says he.
"I took him up in a moment, and we went on. Presently, the very
queer small boy says, 'This is Gadshill we are coming to, where
Falstaff went out to rob those travellers and ran away.'
"'You know something about Falstaff, eh?' said I.
"'All about him,' said the very queer small boy. 'I am old (I am
nine), and I read all sorts of books. But do let us stop at the top
of the hill, and look at the house there, if you please!'
"'You admire that house?' said I.
[Illustration: GADSHILL PLACE FROM THE GARDENS]
"'Bless you, sir,' said the very queer small boy, 'when I was not
more than half as old as nine, it used to be a treat for me to be
brought to look at it. And now I am nine I come by myself to look
at it. And ever since I can recollect, my father, seeing me so fond
of it, has often said to me, If you were to be very persevering,
and were to work hard, you might some day come to live in it.
Though that's impossible!' said the very queer small boy, drawing a
low breath, and now staring at the house out of window with all his
might.
"I was rather amazed to be told this by the very queer small boy;
for that house happens to be _my_ house, and I have reason to
believe that what he said was true."
As the queer small boy in the _Uncommercial Traveller_ said, Gadshill
Place is at the very top of Falstaff's hill. It stands on the south side
of the Dover road;--on the north side, but a little lower down, is "a
delightfully oldfashioned inn of the old coaching days", the "Sir John
Falstaff";--surrounded by a high wall and screened by a row of limes.
The front view, with its wooden and pillared porch, its bays, its dormer
windows let into the roof, and its surmounting bell turret and vane,
bears much the same appearance as it did to the queer small boy. But
amongst the many additions and alterations which Dickens was constantly
making, the drawing-room had been enlarged from a smaller existing one,
and the conservatory into which it opens was, as he laughingly told his
younger daughter, "positively the last improvement at Gadshill"--a jest
to prove sadly prophetic, for it was uttered on the Sunday before his
death. The little library, too, on the opposite side of the porch from
the drawing-room and conservatory, was a converted bedroom. Its aspect
is familiar to most Dickens-lovers from Sir Luke Fildes's famous picture
of "The Empty Chair". In summer, however, Dickens used to do his work
not in the library but in a Swiss chalet, presented to him by Fechter,
the great actor, which stood in a shrubbery lying on the other side of
the highroad, and entered by a subway that Dickens had excavated for the
purpose. The chalet now must be sought in the terrace garden of Cobham
Hall. When Dickens sat at his desk in a room of the chalet, "up among
the branches of the trees", the five mirrors which he had put in
reflected "the leaves quivering at the windows, and the great fields of
waving corn, and the sail-dotted river". The birds and butterflies flew
in and out, the green branches shot in at the open windows, and the
lights and shadows of the clouds and the scent of flowers and of
everything growing for miles had the same free access. No imaginative
artist, whether in words or colour, could have desired a more inspiring
environment. The back of the house, looking southward, descends by one
flight of steps upon a lawn, where one of the balustrades of the old
Rochester Bridge had, when this was demolished, been fitted up as a
sundial. The lawn, in turn, communicates with flower and vegetable
gardens by another flight of steps. Beyond is "the much-coveted meadow"
which Dickens obtained, partly by exchange, from the trustees--not of
Watts's Charity, as Forster has stated, but of Sir Joseph Williamson's
Free School at Rochester. It was in this field that the villagers from
neighbouring Higham played cricket matches, and that, just before
Dickens went to America for the last time, he held those quaint
footraces for all and sundry, described in one of his letters to
Forster. Though the landlord of the Falstaff, from over the way, was
allowed to erect a drinking booth, and all the prizes were given in
money; though, too, the road from Chatham to Gadshill was like a fair
all day, and the crowd consisted mainly of rough labouring men, of
soldiers, sailors, and navvies, there was no disorder, not a flag, rope,
or stake displaced, and no drunkenness whatever. As striking a tribute,
if rightly considered, as ever was exacted by a strong and winning
personality! One of those oddities in which Dickens delighted was
elicited by a hurdle race for strangers. The man who came in second ran
120 yards and leaped over ten hurdles with a pipe in his mouth and
smoking it all the time. "If it hadn't been for your pipe," said the
Master of Gadshill Place, clapping him on the shoulder at the
winning-post, "you would have been first." "I beg your pardon, sir," he
answered, "but if it hadn't been for my pipe, I should have been
nowhere."
To the hospitable hearth of Gadshill Place were drawn, by the fame of
the "Inimitable Boz", a long succession of brilliant men and women,
mostly of the Anglo-Saxon race, whether English or American; and if not
in the throngs for which at Abbotsford open house was kept, yet with a
frequency which would have made literary work almost impossible for the
host without remarkable steadiness of purpose and regularity of habits.
For Longfellow and his daughters he "turned out", that they might see
all of the surrounding country which could be seen in a short stay, "a
couple of postilions in the old red jackets of the old red royal Dover
road, and it was like a holiday ride in England fifty years ago".
In his study in the late and early months, and his Swiss chalet through
the summer, Dickens would write such novels as _Great Expectations_, and
the unfinished _Mystery of Edwin Drood_, taking his local colour from
spots which lay within the compass of a reasonable walk; and others,
such as _A Tale of Two Cities_ and _Our Mutual Friend_, to which the
circumstances of time and place furnished little or nothing except their
influence on his mood. Some of the occasional papers which, in the
character of "The Uncommercial Traveller", he furnished to _All the
Year Round_, have as much of the _genius loci_ as any of his romances.
Even to-day the rushing swarm of motor cars has not yet driven from the
more secluded nooks of Kent all such idylls of open-air vagabondage as
this:--
"I have my eyes upon a piece of Kentish road, bordered on either
side by a wood, and having on one hand, between the road dust and
the trees, a skirting patch of grass. Wild flowers grow in
abundance on this spot, and it lies high and airy, with a distant
river stealing steadily away to the ocean, like a man's life. To
gain the milestone here, which the moss, primroses, violets,
bluebells and wild roses would soon render illegible but for
peering travellers pushing them aside with their sticks, you must
come up a steep hill, come which way you may. So, all the tramps
with carts or caravans--the gipsy tramp, the show tramp, the Cheap
Jack--find it impossible to resist the temptations of the place,
and all turn the horse loose when they come to it, and boil the
pot. Bless the place, I love the ashes of the vagabond fires that
have scorched its grass!"
The Kentish road that Dickens thus describes is certainly the Dover Road
at Gadshill, from which, of course, there is a steep declivity whether
the route is westward to Gravesend or eastwards to Strood and Rochester.
In Strood itself Dickens found little to interest him, though the view
of Rochester from Strood Hill is an arresting one, with the stately
mediaevalism of Castle and Cathedral emerging from a kind of haze in
which it is hard to distinguish what is smoke-wreath and what a mass of
crowding roofs. The Medway, which divides Strood from the almost
indistinguishably overlapping towns of Rochester, Chatham, and
Brompton, is crossed by an iron bridge, superseding the old stone
structure commemorated in _Pickwick_. Mr. Pickwick's notes on "the four
towns" do not require very much modification to apply to their present
state.
"The principal productions", he wrote, "appear to be soldiers,
sailors, Jews, chalk, shrimps, officers, and dockyard men. The
commodities chiefly exposed for sale in the public streets are
marine stores, hard-bake, apples, flat-fish, and oysters. The
streets present a lively and animated appearance, occasioned
chiefly by the conviviality of the military.... The consumption of
tobacco in these towns must be very great, and the smell which
pervades the streets must be exceedingly delicious to those who are
extremely fond of smoking. A superficial traveller might object to
the dirt, which is their leading characteristic, but to those who
view it as an indication of traffic and commercial prosperity, it
is truly gratifying."
[Illustration: ROCHESTER FROM STROOD]
This description is much less true of Rochester than of its three
neighbours, and does no justice to the aspects which Dickens himself
presented in the Market Town of _Great Expectations_, and the
Cloisterham of _Edwin Drood_. Amid the rather sordid encroachments of a
modern industrialism, Rochester still keeps something of the air of an
old-world country town, and in the precincts of its Cathedral there
still broods a cloistral peace. The dominating feature of the town, from
whatever side approached, is the massive ruin of the Norman Keep of
Bishop Gundulf, the architect also of London's White Tower. Though
the blue sky is its only roof, and on the rugged staircase the dark
apertures in the walls, where rafters and floors were once, show like
gaping sockets from which the ravens and daws have picked out the eyes,
it seems to stand with all the immovable strength of some solid rock on
which the waves of rebellion or invasion would have dashed and broken.
It is easy to believe the saying of Lambarde, in his _Perambulation of
Kent_, that "from time to time it had a part in almost every tragedie".
But the grimness of its grey walls is relieved by a green mantle of
clinging ivy, and though it can no longer be said of the Castle that it
is "bathed, though in ruins, with a flush of flowers", the beautiful
single pink grows wild on its ramparts.
From the Castle to the "Bull" in the High Street is a transition which
seems almost an anachronism. It is but to follow in the traces of the
Pickwick Club. The covered gateway, the staircase almost wide enough for
a coach and four, the ballroom on the first floor landing, with
card-room adjoining, and the bedroom which Mr. Winkle occupied inside
Mr. Tupman's--all are there, just as when the club entertained Alfred
Jingle to a dinner of soles, a broiled fowl and mushrooms, and Mr.
Tupman took him to the ball in Mr. Winkle's coat, borrowed without
leave, and Dr. Slammer of the 97th sent his challenge next morning to
the owner of the coat. The Guildhall, with its gilt ship for a vane, and
its old brick front, supported by Doric stone columns, is not so
memorable because Hogarth played hop-scotch in the colonnade during his
_Five Days' Peregrination by Land and Water_, as for the day when
Pumblechook bundled Pip off to be bound apprentice to Jo before the
Justices in the Hall, "a queer place, with higher pews in it than a
church... and with some shining black portraits on the walls". This was
the Town Hall, too, which Dickens has told us that he had set up in his
childish mind "as the model on which the genie of the lamp built the
palace for Aladdin", only to return and recognize with saddened,
grown-up eyes--exaggerating the depreciation a little, for the sake of
the contrast--"a mere mean little heap of bricks, like a chapel gone
demented". Close by the Guildhall is the Town Clock, "supposed to be the
finest clock in the world", which, alas! "turned out to be as moon-faced
and weak a clock as a man's eyes ever saw".
On the north side of the High Street, not many yards from the Bull, is a
Tudor two-storied, stone-built house, with latticed windows and gables.
This is the Charity founded by the will of Richard Watts in 1579, to
give lodging and entertainment for one night, and fourpence each, to
"six poor travellers, not being rogues or proctors". It furnished the
theme to the Christmas cycle of stories, _The Seven Poor Travellers_,
the narrator, who treats the waifs and strays harboured one Christmas
eve at the Charity to roast turkey, plum pudding, and "wassail",
bringing up the number to seven, "being", as he says, "a traveller
myself, though an idle one, and being withal as poor as I hope to be".
Farther up the High Street towards Chatham, about a quarter of a mile
from Rochester Bridge, are two sixteenth-century houses, with fronts of
carved oak and gables, facing each other across the street. One has
figured in both _Great Expectations_ and _Edwin Drood_, for it is the
house of Mr. Pumblechook, the pompous and egregious corn and seedsman,
and of Mr. Sapsea, the auctioneer, still more pompous and egregious. The
other--Eastgate House, now converted into a museum--is the "Nun's
House", where Miss Twinkleton kept school, and had Rosa Bud and Helen
Landless for pupils.
From the hum and traffic of the cheerfully frequented High Street to the
calm and hush of the Cathedral precincts entrance is given by Chertsey's
or College Yard Gate, which abuts on the High Street about a hundred
yards north of the Cathedral. It was this Gate which Sir Luke Fildes
sketched, as he has recorded in an interesting letter published in _A
Week's Tramp in Dickens-Land_, by W. R. Hughes, for the background of
his drawing of "Durdles Cautioning Sapsea". There are, however, two
other gatehouses, the "Prior's", a tower over an archway, containing a
single room approached by a "postern stair", and "Deanery Gate", a
quaint old house adjoining the Cathedral which has ten rooms, some of
them beautifully panelled. Its drawing-room on the upper floor bears a
strong resemblance to the room--as depicted by Sir Luke Fildes--in which
Jasper entertained his nephew and Neville Landless, but the artist
believes that he never saw the interior. It is not unlikely that Dickens
took some details from each of the gatehouses to make a composite
picture of "Mr. Jasper's own gatehouse", which seemed so to stem the
tide of life, that while the murmur of the tide was heard beyond, not a
wave would pass the archway.
Rochester Cathedral, which overshadows, though in a less insistent and
tragic manner, the whole human interest of _Edwin Drood_ almost as much
as Notre Dame overshadows the human interest in Victor Hugo's romance,
preserves some remains of the original Saxon and Norman churches on the
site of which it was erected. Its Early English and Decorated Gothic
came off lightly from three restorations, but the tower is
nineteenth-century vandalism. The Norman west front enshrines in the
riches of its sculptured portal, with its five receding arches, figures
of the Saviour and his twelve apostles, and on two shafts are carved
likenesses of Henry I and his Queen. Freeman has pronounced it to be far
the finest example of Norman architecture of its kind. The Chapter House
door, a magnificent example of Decorated Gothic, is adorned with
effigies representing the Christian and Jewish Churches, which are
surrounded by Holy Fathers and Angels who pray for the soul,
emblematically represented as a small nude form above them. But it is
about the stone-vaulted crypt, where even by daylight "the heavy pillars
which support the roof engender masses of black shade", with "lanes of
light" between, and about the winding staircase and belfry of the great
tower that the spells of the Dickens magic especially cling, and Jasper
and Durdles revisit these haunts by the glimpses of the moon as
persistently as Quasimodo and the sinister Priest beset with their
ghostly presences the belfry of the great Paris minster.
Of the historic imagination Dickens had little or none. He could not
evoke, and never had the faintest desire to evoke, a Past that was
divided from the Present by an unbridgeable chasm. Thus Rochester
Castle, though he seldom failed to bring his guests to view it,
affected him only with a remote sense of antiquity such as he would have
experienced, no more and no less, amongst the Pyramids. But he was
keenly sensitive to the influences of a Past which still survived and,
by the continuity of a corporate life, made an integral part in the
Present. The Cathedral life, in which by virtue of their office canons
and dean were living relics of antiquity, and as much the contemporaries
as the successors of the ecclesiastics who lay crumbling in the crypt,
stirred this sense in him as it had been stirred by the ancient Inns of
London. Almost the last words that he wrote were a tribute to the beauty
of the venerable fane in which, beneath the monument of the founder of
that quaint Charity rendered so famous by his story of _The Seven Poor
Travellers_, a simple brass records his birth, death, and burial-place,
"To connect his memory with the scenes in which his earliest and his
latest years were passed, and with the associations of Rochester
Cathedral and its neighbourhood which extended over all his life".
[Illustration: RESTORATION HOUSE, ROCHESTER]
In the old cemetery of St. Nicholas' Church, on the north side of the
Cathedral, it was Dickens's desire to be buried, and his family would
have carried out his wishes had it not been that the burial-ground had
been closed for years and no further interments were allowed. On the
south side of the Cathedral is the delightfully oldfashioned terrace
known as Minor Canon Row--Dickens's name for it is Minor Canon
Corner--where the Reverend Septimus Crisparkle kept house with the
"china shepherdess" mother. The "Monks' Vineyard" of _Edwin Drood_
exists as "The Vines". Here under a group of elms called "The Seven
Sisters" Edwin Drood and Rosa sat when they decided to break their
engagement, and opposite "The Seven Sisters" is the "Satis House" of
_Great Expectations_, where the lonely and embittered Miss Havisham
taught Estella the cruel lessons of a ruined life. It is really
Restoration House--Satis House is on the site of the mansion of Master
Richard Watts, to whose apologies for no better entertainment of his
Sovereign, Queen Elizabeth answered "Satis"--and it takes its name from
having received the restored Merry Monarch under its roof on his way to
London and the throne. Pepys, who was terrified by the steepness of the
castle cliff and had no time to stay to service at the Cathedral, when
he had been inspecting the defences at Chatham, found something more to
his mind in a stroll by Restoration House, and into the Cherry Garden,
where he met a silly shopkeeper with a pretty wife, "and did kiss her".
Dickens would often follow this route of Pepys, but in the reverse
direction, that is, through the Vines to Chatham and its lines of
fortification, where Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass became
so hopelessly entangled in the sham fight which they had gone over from
Rochester to see. At No. 11 Ordnance Terrace the little Charles Dickens
lived from 1817 to 1821, and at No. 18 St. Mary's Place from 1821 to
1823, the financial troubles, which eventually drove the family into the
Marshalsea debtors' prison, and Charles himself into the sordid drudgery
of the blacking-shop by Hungerford Stairs, having already | 3,170.262565 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.3344370 | 1,999 | 48 |
E-text prepared by David Edwards, Demian Katz, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Villanova University Digital Library
(http://digital.library.villanova.edu)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Villanova University Digital Library. See
http://digital.library.villanova.edu/Item/vudl:305220
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
THE CRUISE OF THE "LIVELY BEE"
* * * * * *
BOYS OF LIBERTY LIBRARY.
12mo. Cloth, handsomely bound. Price, each, postpaid, 50 cents.
PAUL REVERE and the Boys of Liberty. By John De Morgan.
THE FIRST SHOT FOR LIBERTY or The Minute Men of Massachusetts. By
John De Morgan.
FOOLING THE ENEMY. A Story of the Siege of Boston. By John De Morgan.
INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH or The Boys of Liberty at the Battle of Long
Island. By John De Morgan.
THE HERO OF TICONDEROGA or Ethan Allen and His Green Mountain Boys.
By John De Morgan.
ON TO QUEBEC or With Montgomery in Canada. By John De Morgan.
FIGHTING HAL or From Fort Necessity to Quebec. By John De Morgan.
MARION AND HIS MEN or The Swamp Fox of Carolina. By John De Morgan.
THE YOUNG AMBASSADOR or Washington's First Triumph. By John De Morgan.
THE YOUNG GUARDSMAN or With Washington in the Ohio Valley. By John De
Morgan.
THE CRUISE OF THE LIVELY BEE or A Boy's Adventure in the War of 1812.
By John De Morgan.
THE TORY PLOT or Saving Washington's Life. By T. C. Harbaugh.
IN BUFF AND BLUE or Serving under Old Put. By T. C. Harbaugh.
WASHINGTON'S YOUNG SPY or Outwitting General Howe. By T. C. Harbaugh.
UNDER GREENE'S BANNER or The Boy Heroes of 1781. By T. C. Harbaugh.
FOR FREEDOM'S CAUSE or On to Saratoga. By T. C. Harbaugh.
CAPTAIN OF THE MINUTE MEN or The Concord Boys of 1775. By Harrie
Irving Hancock.
THE TRADER'S CAPTIVE or The Young Guardsman and The French Spies. By
Lieut. Lounsberry.
THE QUAKER SPY, A Tale of the Revolutionary War. By Lieut. Lounsberry.
FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM or The Birth of the Stars and Stripes. By Lieut.
Lounsberry.
BY ORDER OF THE COLONEL or The Captain of the Young Guardsmen. By
Lieut. Lounsberry.
A CALL TO DUTY or The Young Guardsman. By Lieut. Lounsberry.
IN GLORY'S VAN or The Young Guardsman at Louisbourg. By Lieut.
Lounsberry.
THE YOUNG PATRIOT or The Young Guardsmen at Fort William Henry. By
Lieut. Lounsberry.
"OLD PUT" THE PATRIOT or Fighting for Home and Country. By Frederick
A. Ober.
THE LEAGUE OF FIVE or Washington's Boy Scouts. By Commander Post.
THE KING'S MESSENGER or The Fall of Ticonderoga. By Capt. Frank Ralph.
DASHING PAUL JONES, The Hero of the Colonial Navy. By Frank Sheridan.
FROM MIDSHIPMAN TO COMMODORE or The Glories of Our Infant Navy. By
Frank Sheridan.
THE CRUISE OF THE ESSEX or Making the Stars and Stripes Respected. By
Frank Sheridan.
* * * * * *
THE CRUISE OF THE "LIVELY BEE"
Or
A Boy's Adventure in the War of 1812
by
JOHN DE MORGAN
Author of
"Paul Revere," "The Young Ambassador," "The First
Shot for Liberty," "The Young Guardsman," etc.
[Illustration: BOYS OF LIBERTY LIBRARY]
Philadelphia
David McKay, Publisher
610 South Washington Square
Copyright, 1892
By Norman L. Munro
The Cruise of the "Lively Bee"
THE CRUISE OF THE "LIVELY BEE."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. DECLARATION OF WAR.
CHAPTER II. THE DEPARTURE.
CHAPTER III. THE LIEUTENANT'S STORY.
CHAPTER IV. THE CHALLENGE.
CHAPTER V. THE CHASE.
CHAPTER VI. STORM AT SEA.
CHAPTER VII. THE ESSEX.
CHAPTER VIII. SCENTING MUTINY.
CHAPTER IX. A BRUSH WITH THE ENEMY.
CHAPTER X. PREPARING FOR ACTION.
CHAPTER XI. THE FIGHT AT SEA
CHAPTER XII. ON THE VERGE OF SUCCESS.
CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF THE CONQUEROR.
CHAPTER XIV. THE LIVELY BEE'S PLUCK.
CHAPTER XV. THE WASP'S STING.
CHAPTER XVI. THE MERCHANT CAPTAIN'S CARGO.
CHAPTER XVII. A RICH PRIZE.
CHAPTER XVIII. A STRANGE SAIL.
CHAPTER XIX. BOB, THE POWDER-MONKEY.
CHAPTER XX. THE MONARCH'S DOOM.
CHAPTER XXI. HOMEWARD BOUND.
CHAPTER XXII. JACK'S REQUEST.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE STORY OF THE FIGHT.
CHAPTER XXIV. MARRIAGE AT SEA.
CHAPTER XXV. THE BALL AT THE WHITE HOUSE.
CHAPTER XXVI. THE MARRIAGE AT THE WHITE HOUSE.
CHAPTER XXVII. AN UNEXPECTED PLEASURE.
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CONSTITUTION'S GREAT VICTORY.
CHAPTER XXIX. A LESSON IN MILITARY LAW.
CHAPTER XXX. BOB'S GOOD ANGEL.
CHAPTER XXXI. THE REGINA, OF TORQUAY.
CHAPTER XXXII. HOW BOB KEPT HIS OATH.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE MUTINY QUELLED.
CHAPTER XXXIV. VERNON'S SUCCESS.
CHAPTER XXXV. THE END OF THE LIVELY BEE.
CHAPTER I.
DECLARATION OF WAR.
There was a large crowd on the Battery in New York City one hot day in
June in the year eighteen-hundred-and-twelve.
Every one was talking and every one was looking out across the waters
of the harbor.
There were pale, anxious faces in that crowd, and side by side with
them were the flushed cheeks of men and boys whose hearts were fired
with patriotic zeal.
Women were looking at their husbands, and young girls' hearts were
throbbing with painful excitement as they saw the enthusiasm of their
sweethearts.
"War, did you say?"
"Ay, ay, the President has aroused at last, and old England shall be
taught another and a final lesson."
It was true.
President James Madison had signed the Declaration of War against Great
Britain.
War!
There were many in that crowd who remembered 1783; there stood the man
who, in his boyhood's days, had climbed the flagpole and torn down the
Union Jack of England, and in its place had hoisted the Star Spangled
Banner.
Many whose hair was now turning gray had shouldered the musket and had
marched with Washington from victory to victory.
The war had ended when the British evacuated the city, but America was
not free and independent.
England held the supremacy of the seas.
English vessels entered American ports, and men were impressed as
seamen on the technical ground that they had never abjured allegiance.
American vessels were boarded on the high seas, and some of the best
men taken away and forced to serve under the English flag.
There is a limit to forbearance, and the young nation, whose infancy
had scarcely been passed, resolved that it would be better to die than
endure such insults.
War was declared.
It looked like madness.
It was so, if judged by the ordinary rules of national conduct.
Great Britain was the mistress of the seas.
On the roll of her navy were over a thousand ships, and eighty-five of
the largest were actually in American ports.
President Madison and his Cabinet did not, however, intend that the war
should be waged on the high seas.
The American ships-of-war were to remain in the harbors as so many
floating batteries for defensive purposes.
In New York Harbor was a small squadron under the command of Commodore
Rodgers.
He heard the rumor that he was not to go out to sea, and dispatched
Captains Bainbridge and Stewart to Washington to confer with the
Secretary of the Navy.
Secretary Paul Hamilton listened attentively to the two captains,
and they thought they had won their case; but with great courtesy he
thanked them, and said that the President had, with the consent of his
Cabinet, decided to order the ships to remain in the harbors.
Captain Stewart stamped his foot, and | 3,170.354477 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.3390110 | 260 | 7 |
E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Canada Team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 28295-h.htm or 28295-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/2/9/28295/28295-h/28295-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/2/9/28295/28295-h.zip)
THE MAIDS OF PARADISE
A Novel
by
ROBERT W. CHAMBERS
Author of "Cardigan" "The Conspirators" "Maid-at-Arms" etc.
Illustrated
[Illustration: "'LOOK THERE!' SHE CRIED, IN TERROR" [See p. 81]]
[Illustration]
New York and London
Harper & Brothers
Publishers 1903
Copyright, 1902, by Robert W. Chambers.
All rights reserved.
Published September, 1903.
PREFACE
As far as the writer knows, no treasure-trains were actually sent to | 3,170.359051 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.3401270 | 20 | 35 | WASHINGTON***
E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects,
Mary Meehan | 3,170.360167 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.4344530 | 1,252 | 25 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, fh 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 dagger symbol is denoted by the [+] sign
The asterism symbol is denoted by **
* * * * *
[Illustration]
A
THOUSAND MILES
IN THE
ROB ROY CANOE
ON RIVERS AND LAKES OF
EUROPE.
BY J. MACGREGOR, M.A.,
TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE;
BARRISTER AT LAW:
With Numerous Illustrations and a Map.
_SIXTH THOUSAND._
LONDON:
SAMPSON LOW, SON, AND MARSTON
MILTON HOUSE, LUDGATE-HILL.
1866.
(_The Right of Translation reserved._)
PREFACE.
The voyage about to be described was made last Autumn in a small Canoe,
with a double paddle and sails, which the writer managed alone.
The route led sometimes over mountains and through forests and plains,
where the boat had to be carried or dragged.
The waters navigated were as follows:--
The Rivers Thames, Sambre, Meuse, Rhine, Main, Danube, Reuss, Aar, Ill,
Moselle, Meurthe, Marne, and Seine.
The Lakes Titisee, Constance, Unter See, Zurich, Zug, and Lucerne,
together with six canals in Belgium and France, and two expeditions in
the open sea of the British Channel.
TEMPLE, LONDON,
_April 25, 1866_.
THE AUTHOR'S PROFITS FROM THE FIRST AND SECOND EDITIONS, WERE
GIVEN TO THE ROYAL NATIONAL LIFE-BOAT INSTITUTION AND TO THE
SHIPWRECKED MARINERS' SOCIETY.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
RAPIDS OF THE REUSS (_Frontispiece_). --
SEA ROLLERS IN THE CHANNEL 19
SWIMMING HERD ON THE MEUSE 28
SINGERS' WAGGON ON THE DANUBE 49
A CROWD IN THE MORNING 65
HAYMAKERS AMAZED 80
NIGHT SURPRISE AT GEGGLINGEN 93
THE ROB ROY IN A BUSTLE 110
SAILING UPON LAKE ZUG 134
SHIRKING A WATERFALL 152
A CRITICAL MOMENT 168
ASTRIDE THE STERN 186
THE ROB ROY AND THE COW 213
POLITE TO THE LADIES 230
GROUP OF FRENCH FISHERS 246
PASSING A DANGEROUS BARRIER 263
A CHOKED CANAL 281
RIGGING ASHORE 290
ROUTE OF THE CANOE (_Map_) 291
CHART OF CURRENTS AND ROCKS 302
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. Page
Canoe Travelling--Other Modes--The Rob
Roy--Hints--Tourists--The Rivers--The Dress--I and We 1
CHAPTER II.
The Start--The Nore--Porpoises--A Gale--The Channel--Ostend
Canal--River Meuse--Earl of Aberdeen--Holland--The
Rhine--The Premier's Son--River Main--Heron
Stalking--The Prince of Wales 12
CHAPTER III.
Hollenthal Pass--Ladies--Black Forest--Night Music--Beds--Lake
Titisee--Pontius Pilate--Storm--Starers--Banket--Four
in hand--Source of the Danube 38
CHAPTER IV.
River Donau--Singers--Shady nooks--Geisingen--Mill
Weirs--Rapids--Morning Crowd--Donkey's
Stable--Islands--Monks--Spiders--Concert--Fish--A
race 55
CHAPTER V.
Sigmaringen--Treacherous trees--Congress of herons--Flying
Dutchman--Tub and shovel--Bottle race--Snags--Bridge
Perils--Ya Vol--Ferry Rope--Benighted--Ten eggs 75
CHAPTER VI.
Day-dream--River Iller--Ulm--A stiff king--Lake Constance--Seeing
in the dark--Switzerland--
Canvas--Sign talk--Synagogue--Amelia--Gibberish 96
CHAPTER VII.
Fog--Fancy pictures--Boy soldiers--Boat's billet--Eating--Lake
Zurich--Crinoline--Hot walk--Staring--Lake
Zug--Swiss shots--Fishing Britons--Talk-book 118
CHAPTER VIII.
Sailing on Lucerne--Seeburg--River scenes--Night and
snow--The Reuss--A dear dinner--Seeing a rope--Passing
a fall--Sullen roar--Bremgarten rapids 142
CHAPTER IX.
Hunger--Music at the mill--Sentiment and chops--River
Limmat--Fixed on a fall--River Aar--Rhine again--Douaniers--Falls
of Lauffenburg--The cow cart 159
CHAPTER X.
Field of Foam--Precipice--Puzzled--Philosophy-- | 3,170.454493 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.4356020 | 1,165 | 42 |
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE BOY AVIATORS ON SECRET SERVICE
OR
WORKING WITH WIRELESS
BY
CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON
AUTHOR OF "THE BOY AVIATORS IN NICARAGUA"
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boy Aviators' Series
By CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON
Author of "Dreadnought Boys Series"
Six Titles. Cloth Bound. Price 50c
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
1 The Boy Aviators in Nicaragua; or, In League with the Insurgents.
2 The Boy Aviators on Secret Service; or, Working with Wireless.
3 The Boy Aviators in Africa; or, An Aerial Ivory Trail.
4 The Boy Aviators' Treasure Quest; or, The Golden Galleon.
5 The Boy Aviators in Record Flight; or, The Rival Aeroplane.
6 The Boy Aviators' Polar Dash; or, Facing Death in the Antarctic.
7 The Boy Aviators' Flight for a Fortune.
Sold Everywhere.
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
_Copyright_, 1910, by HURST & CO.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS.
I. An Important Commission
II. The Boys Meet an Old Friend,--and an Enemy
III. A Tramp with Field-Glasses
IV. A Plot Discovered
V. Two Rascals get a Shock
VI. The Start for the 'Glades
VII. A Night Attack
VIII. The Men of the Island
IX. A Message from the Unknown
X. The Captive's Warning
XI. The Black Squall
XII. Pork Chops Proves His Metal
XIII. The Front Door of the 'Glades
XIV. Close Quarters with 'Gators
XV. An Island Mystery
XVI. The Boys Make an Acquisition
XVII. The Everglades in an Aeroplane
XVIII. A Night Alarm
XIX. On the Mound-Builders' Island
XX. Captain Bellman's Island
XXI. A Bold Dash
XXII. Ben Stubbs Disappears
XXIII. The Boy Aviators Trapped
XXIV. A Startling Meeting
XXV. Quatty as a Scout
XXVI. Lathrop as an Air Pilot
XXVII. Hemmed in by Flames
XXVIII. The Black Aeroplane
XXIX. The Last of Bellman's Crew
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE BOY AVIATORS ON SECRET SERVICE;
OR,
WORKING WITH WIRELESS.
CHAPTER I.
AN IMPORTANT COMMISSION.
"Come in!"
The gray-haired man who uttered these words gazed sharply up at the door
of the private office of the Secretary of the Navy's Bureau, at
Washington, D. C., as he spoke. He was evidently anticipating callers of
more than usual importance judging from his expectant look. The old
<DW64> who had knocked opened the door and respectfully stood waiting.
"Well, Pinckney?"
"Dey have come, sah."
"Ah; good,--show them in at once."
The old <DW64> bowed respectfully and withdrew. A few seconds later he
reappeared and ushered in two bright looking youths of sixteen and
fourteen with the announcement in a pompous tone of voice:
"Messrs. Frank and Harry Chester."
Frank, the elder of the two brothers, was a well set up youngster with
crisp, wavy brown hair and steady gray eyes. Harry, his junior by two
years, had the same cool eyes but with a merrier expression in them. He,
like Frank, was a well-knit, broad-shouldered youth. Both boys were
tanned to an almost mahogany tinge for they had only returned a few days
before from Nicaragua, where they had passed through a series of strange
adventures and perils in their air-ship, the _Golden Eagle_, perhaps,
before her destruction in an electric storm, the best known craft of her
kind in the world and one which they had built themselves from top plane
to landing wheels.
The Secretary of the Navy, for such was the office held by the
gray-haired man, looked at the two youths in front of him with some
perplexity for a moment.
"You are the Boy Aviators we have all heard so much of?" he inquired at
length with a note of frank incredulity in his voice.
"We are, sir," rejoined Frank, with just the ghost of a smile playing
about his lips at the great man's evident astonishment--and its equally
evident cause.
"I beg your pardon," hastily spoke up the Secretary of the Navy, who had
observed Frank's amusement; "but you seem----"
"I know what you were thinking, sir," interrupted Frank, "that we are
very young to undertake such exacting service as Admiral Kimball
outlined to us in Nicaragua."
"You have guessed just right, my boy," rejoined the other, with a hearty
laugh at Frank's taking his thoughts | 3,170.455642 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.4402380 | 180 | 20 |
Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The book uses both Phillippi and Phillipi.
An upside-down T symbol is represented as [Symbol: upside-down T].
[Illustration: Harris Newmark]
SIXTY YEARS
IN
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
1853-1913
CONTAINING THE REMINISCENCES OF
HARRIS NEWMARK
EDITED BY
MAURICE H | 3,170.460278 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.4424430 | 1,802 | 32 |
This eBook was produced by Carolyn Derkatch.
MADCAP
by
George Gibbs
[Illustration: "'You must flirt, Mr. Markham-and make pretty
speeches-'"]
CONTENTS
Chapter
I. Hermia
II. The Gorilla
III. The Ineffectual Aunt
IV. Marooned
V. Bread and Salt
VI. The Rescue
VII. "Wake Robin"
VIII. Olga Tcherny
IX. Out of His Depth
X. The Fugitive
XI. The Gates of Chance
XII. The Fairy Godmother
XIII. Vagabondia
XIV. The Fabiani Family
XV. Danger
XVI. Manet Cicatrix
XVII. Pre Gugou's Roses
XVIII. A Philosopher in a Quandary
XIX. Mountebanks
XX. The Empty House
XXI. Nemasis
XXII. Great Pan is Dead
XXIII. A Lady in the Dark
XXIV. The Wings of the Butterfly
XXV. Circe and the Fossil
XXVI. Mrs. Berkeley Hammond Entertains
XXVII. The Seats of the Mighty
XXVIII. The Brass Bell
XXIX. Duo
CHAPTER I
HERMIA
Titine glanced at the parted curtains and empty bed, then at the clock,
and yawned. It was not yet eight o'clock. From the look of things, she
was sure that Miss Challoner had arisen and departed for a morning ride
before the breaking of the dawn. She peered out of the window and
contracted her shoulders expressively. To ride in the cold morning air
upon a violent horse when she had been out late! B--r! But then,
Mademoiselle was a wonderful person--like no one since the beginning of
the world. She made her own laws and Titine was reluctantly obliged to
confess that she herself was delighted to obey them.
Another slight shrug of incomprehension--of absolution from such
practices--and Titine moved to the linen cabinet and took out some
fluffy things of lace and ribbon, then to a closet from which she
brought a soft room-gown, a pair of silk stockings and some very small
suede slippers.
She had hardly completed these preparations when there was the sound of
a door hurriedly closed downstairs, a series of joyous yelps from a
dog, a rush of feet on the stairs and the door of the room gave way
before the precipitate entrance of a slight, almost boyish, female
person, with blue eyes, the rosiest of cheeks and a mass of yellow
hair, most of which had burst from its confines beneath her hat.
To the quiet Titine her mistress created an impression of bringing not
only herself into the room, but also the violent horse and the whole of
the out-of-doors besides.
"Down, Domino! Down, I say!" to the clamorous puppy. "Now--out with
you!" And as he refused to obey she waved her crop threateningly and
at a propitious moment banged the door upon his impertinent snub-nose.
"Quick, Titine, my bath and--why, what are you looking at?"
"Your hat, Mademoiselle," in alarm, "It is broken, and your face--"
"It's a perfectly good face. What's the matter with it?"
By this time Miss Challoner had reached the cheval glass. Her hat was
smashed in at one side and several dark stains disfigured her cheek and
temple.
"Oh, I'm a _sight_. He chucked me into some bushes, Titine--"
"That terrible horse--Mademoiselle!"
"The same--into some very sticky bushes--but he didn't get away. I got
on without help, too. Lordy, but I _did_ take it out of him! Oh,
didn't I!"
Her eye lighted gaily as though in challenge at nothing at all as she
removed her gloves and tossed her hat and crop on the bed and sprawled
into a chair with a sigh, while Titine removed her boots and made
tremulous and reproachful inquiries.
"Mademoiselle--will--will kill herself, I am sure."
Hermia Challoner laughed.
"Better die living--than be living dead. Besides, no one ever dies
who doesn't care whether he dies or not. I shall die comfortably in
bed at the age of eighty-three, I'm sure of it. Now, my bath.
_Vite_, Titine! I have a hunger like that which never was before."
Miss Challoner undressed and entered her bathroom, where she splashed
industriously for some minutes, emerging at last radiant and glowing
with health and a delight in the mere joy of existence. While Titine
brushed her hair, the girl sat before her dressing-table putting
lotion on her injured cheeks and temple. Her hair arranged, she sent
the maid for her breakfast tray while she finished her toilet in
leisurely fashion and went into her morning room. The suede slippers
contributed their three inches to her stature, the long lines of the
flowing robe added their dignity, and the strands of her hair, each
woven carefully into its appointed place, completed the transformation
from the touseled, hoydenish boy-girl of half an hour before into the
luxurious and somewhat bored young lady of fashion.
But she sank into the chair before her breakfast tray and ate with an
appetite which took something form this illusion, while Titine brought
her letters and a long box of flowers which were unwrapped and placed
in a floor-vase of silver and glass in an embrasure of the window.
The envelope which accompanied the flowers Titine handed to her
mistress, who opened it carelessly between mouthfuls and finally added
it to the accumulated litter of fashionable stationery. Hermia eyed
her Dresden chocolate-pot uncheerfully. This breakfast gift had
reached her with an ominous regularity on Mondays and Thursdays for a
month, and the time had come when something must be done about it.
But she did not permit unpleasant thoughts, if unpleasant they really
were, to distract her from the casual delights of retrospection and
the pleasures of her repast, which she finished with a thoroughness
that spoke more eloquently of the wholesomeness of her appetite even
than the real excellence of the cooking. Upon Titine, who brought her
the cigarettes and a brazier, she created the impression--as she
always did indoors--of a child, greatly overgrown, parading herself
with mocking ostentation in the garments of maturity. The cigarette,
too, was a part of this parade, and she smoked it daintily, though
without apparent enjoyment.
Her meal finished, she was ready to receive feminine visitors. She
seldom lacked company, for it is not the fate of a girl of Hermia
Challoner's condition to be left long to her own devices. Her
father's death, some years before, had fallen heavily upon her, but
youth and health had borne her above even that sad event triumphant,
and now at three and twenty, with a fortune which loomed large even in
a day of large fortunes, she lived alone with a legion of servants in
the great house, with no earthly ties but an ineffectual aunt and a
Trust Company.
But she did not suffer for lack of advice as to the conduct of her life
or of her affairs, and she always took it with the sad devotional air
which its givers had learned meant that in the end she would do exactly
as she chose. And so the Aunt and the Trust Company, like the
scandalized Titine, ended inevitably in silent acquiescence.
Of her acquaintances much might be said, both good and bad. They
represented almost every phase of society from the objects of her
charities (which were many and often unreasoning) to the daughters of
her father's friends who belonged in her own sphere of existence. And
if one's | 3,170.462483 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.4434080 | 6,397 | 10 |
Produced by David Edwards, Rose Acquavella 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: BULLDOG FINDS A FRIEND.]
FACING DEATH
OR,
THE HERO OF THE VAUGHAN PIT.
A TALE OF THE COAL MINES.
BY
G. A. HENTY,
Author of "With Clive in India;" "In Freedom's Cause;"
"By Sheer Pluck;" "Under Drake's Flag;" &c.
_WITH EIGHT FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON BROWNE._
LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, LIMITED;
NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS,
743 AND 745 BROADWAY
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. EVIL TIDINGS, 9
II. BULL-DOG, 16
III. THE RESOLUTION, 31
IV. THE VAUGHAN PIT, 39
V. SETTING TO WORK, 49
VI. "THE OLD SHAFT," 54
VII. FRIENDSHIP, 64
VIII. PROGRESS, 74
IX. THE GREAT STRIKE, 80
X. HARD TIMES, 96
XI. THE ATTACK ON THE ENGINE-HOUSE, 105
XII. AFTER THE STRIKE, 117
XIII. A HEAVY LOSS, 124
XIV. THE NIGHT-SCHOOL, 134
XV. THE SEWING-CLASS, 146
XVI. A NEW LIFE, 156
XVII. THE DOG FIGHT, 166
XVIII. STOKEBRIDGE FEAST, 173
XIX. THE GREAT RIOT, 183
XX. THE ARM OF THE LAW, 193
XXI. A KNOTTY QUESTION, 201
XXII. THE SOLUTION, 209
XXIII. THE EXPLOSION AT THE VAUGHAN, 222
XXIV. IN DEADLY PERIL, 235
XXV. THE IMPRISONED MINERS, 239
XXVI. A CRITICAL MOMENT, 253
XXVII. RESCUED, 259
XXVIII. CHANGES, 274
XXIX. THE NEW MANAGER, 283
XXX. RISEN, 289
XXXI. CONCLUSION, 298
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
BULLDOG FINDS A FRIEND, _Frontispiece_.
IN THE OLD SHAFT--CAN HE BE SAVED? 58
NELLY'S FIRST LESSON, 70
A LIFE OR DEATH STRUGGLE, 113
JACK IS VICTORIOUS, 170
THE NEW SCHOOLMISTRESS, 217
AFTER THE FIRST EXPLOSION--THE SEARCH PARTY, 237
SAVED! 270
FACING DEATH:
OR, HOW STOKEBRIDGE WAS CIVILIZED.
CHAPTER I.
EVIL TIDINGS.
A row of brick-built houses with slate roofs, at the edge of a large
mining village in Staffordshire. The houses are dingy and colourless,
and without relief of any kind. So are those in the next row, so in the
street beyond, and throughout the whole village. There is a dreary
monotony about the place; and if some giant could come and pick up all
the rows of houses, and change their places one with another, it is a
question whether the men, now away at work, would notice any difference
whatever until they entered the houses standing in the place of those
which they had left in the morning. There is a church, and a vicarage
half hidden away in the trees in its pretty old-fashioned garden; there
are two or three small red-bricked dissenting chapels, and the doctor's
house, with a bright brass knocker and plate on the door. There are no
other buildings above the common average of mining villages; and it
needs not the high chimneys, and engine-houses with winding gear,
dotting the surrounding country, to notify the fact that Stokebridge is
a mining village.
It is a little past noon, and many of the women come to their doors and
look curiously after a miner, who, in his working clothes, and black
with coal-dust, walks rapidly towards his house, with his head bent
down, and his thick felt hat slouched over his eyes.
"It's Bill Haden; he works at the 'Vaughan.'"
"What brings he up at this hour?"
"Summat wrong, I'll be bound."
Bill Haden stopped at the door of his house in the row first spoken of,
lifted the latch, and went in. He walked along a narrow passage into the
back-room. His wife, who was standing at the washing-tub, turned round
with a surprised exclamation, and a bull-dog with half-a-dozen round
tumbling puppies scrambled out of a basket by the fire, and rushed to
greet him.
"What is it, Bill? what's brought thee home before time?"
For a moment Bill Haden did not answer, but stooped, and, as it were
mechanically, lifted the dog and stroked its head.
"There's blood on thy hands, Bill. What be wrong with 'ee?"
"It bain't none of mine, lass," the man said in an unsteady voice. "It
be Jack's. He be gone."
"Not Jack Simpson?"
"Ay, Jack Simpson; the mate I ha' worked with ever since we were butties
together. A fall just came as we worked side by side in the stall, and
it broke his neck, and he's dead."
The woman dropped into a chair, threw her apron over her head, and cried
aloud, partly at the loss of her husband's mate, partly at the thought
of the narrow escape he had himself had.
"Now, lass," her husband said, "there be no time to lose. It be for thee
to go and break it to his wife. I ha' come straight on, a purpose. I
thawt to do it, but I feel like a gal myself, and it had best be told
her by another woman."
Jane Haden took her apron from her face.
"Oh, Bill, how can I do it, and she ill, and with a two-month baby? I
misdoubt me it will kill her."
"Thou'st got to do it," Bill said doggedly, "and thou'd best be quick
about it; it won't be many minutes afore they bring him in."
When Bill spoke in that way his wife knew, as he said, that she'd got to
do it, and without a word she rose and went out, while her husband stood
staring into the fire, and still patting the bull-dog in his arms. A
tear falling on his hand startled him. He dropped the dog and gave it a
kick, passed his sleeve across his eyes, and said angrily:
"Blest if I bain't a crying like a gal. Who'd a thawt it? Well, well,
poor old Jack! he was a good mate too"--and Bill Haden proceeded to
light his pipe.
Slowly and reluctantly Mrs. Haden passed along the row. The sad errand
on which she was going was one that has often to be discharged in a
large colliery village. The women who had seen Bill go in were still at
their doors, and had been joined by others. The news that he had come in
at this unusual hour had passed about quickly, and there was a general
feeling of uneasiness among the women, all of whom had husbands or
relatives below ground. When, therefore, Jane Haden came out with signs
of tears on her cheeks, her neighbours on either side at once assailed
her with questions.
"Jack Simpson's killed by a fall," she said, "and I ha' got to break it
to his wife."
Rapidly the news spread along the row, from door to door, and from group
to group. The first feeling was everywhere one of relief that it was not
their turn this time; then there was a chorus of pity for the widow. "It
will go hard with her," was the general verdict. Then the little groups
broke up, and went back to their work of getting ready for the return of
their husbands from the pit at two o'clock. One or two only, of those
most intimate with the Simpsons, followed Jane Haden slowly down the
street to the door of their house, and took up a position a short
distance off, talking quietly together, in case they might be wanted,
and with the intention of going in after the news was broken, to help
comfort the widow, and to make what preparations were needed for the
last incoming of the late master of the house. It was but a minute or
two that they had to pause, for the door opened again, and Jane Haden
beckoned them to come in.
It had, as the gossips had predicted, gone hard with the young widow.
She was sitting before the fire when Jane entered, working, and rocking
the cradle beside with her foot. At the sight of her visitor's pale
face, and tear-stained cheeks, and quivering lips, she had dropped her
work and stood up, with a terrible presentiment of evil--with that dread
which is never altogether absent from the mind of a collier's wife. She
did not speak, but stood with wide-open eyes staring at her visitor.
"Mary, my poor girl," Mrs. Haden began.
That was enough, the whole truth burst upon her.
"He is killed?" she gasped.
Mrs. Haden gave no answer in words, but her face was sufficient as she
made a step forward towards the slight figure which swayed unsteadily
before her. Mary Simpson made no sound save a gasping sob, her hand went
to her heart, and then she fell in a heap on the ground, before Mrs.
Haden, prepared as she was, had time to clasp her.
"Thank God," Jane Haden said, as she went to the front door and beckoned
the others in, "she has fainted."
"Ay, I thawt as much," one of the women said, "and a good job too. It's
always best so till he is brought home, and things are straightened up."
Between them Mary Simpson was tenderly lifted, and carried upstairs and
laid on the bed of a lodger's room there. The cradle was brought up and
put beside it, and then Jane Haden took her seat by the bed, one woman
went for the doctor, while the others prepared the room below. In a
short time all that remained of Jack Simpson was borne home on a
stretcher, on the shoulders of six of his fellow-workmen, and laid in
the darkened room. The doctor came and went for the next two days, and
then his visits ceased.
It had gone hard with Mary Simpson. She had passed from one long
fainting fit into another, until at last she lay as quiet as did Jack
below; and the doctor, murmuring "A weak heart, poor little woman; the
shock was too much for her," took his departure for the last time from
the house. Then Jane Haden, who had not left her friend's side ever
since she was carried upstairs, wrapped the baby in a shawl and went
home, a neighbour carrying the cradle.
When Bill Haden returned from work he found the room done up, the table
laid for tea, and the kettle on the fire. His wife was sitting by it
with the baby on her lap.
"Well, lass," he said, as he entered the room, "so the poor gal's gone.
I heard it as I came along. Thou'st's had a hard two days on't. Hulloa!
what's that?"
"It's the baby, Bill," his wife said.
"What hast brought un here for?" he asked roughly.
Jane Haden did not answer directly, but standing in front of her
husband, removed the handkerchief which covered the baby's face as he
lay on her arm.
"Look at him, Bill; he's something like Jack, don't thou see it?"
"Not a bit of it," he said gruffly. "Kids don't take after their father,
as pups do."
"I can see the likeness quite plain, Bill. Now," she went on, laying her
hand on his shoulder, "I want to keep him. We ain't got none of our own,
Bill, and I can't abear the thought of his going to the House."
Bill Haden stood irresolute.
"I shouldn't like to think of Jack's kid in the House; still he'll be a
heap of trouble--worse nor a dozen pups, and no chance of winning a
prize with him nohow, or of selling him, or swopping him if his points
don't turn out right. Still, lass, the trouble will be thine, and by the
time he's ten he'll begin to earn his grub in the pit; so if thy mind be
set on't, there's 'n end o' the matter. Now let's have tea; I ain't had
a meal fit for a dog for the last two days, and Juno ain't got her milk
regular."
So little Jack Simpson became a member of the Haden family, and his
father and mother were laid to rest in the burying-ground on the
hillside above the village.
CHAPTER II.
BULL-DOG.
A curious group as they sit staring into the fire. Juno and Juno's
daughter Bess, brindles both, with their underhanging lower jaws, and
their black noses and wrinkled faces, and Jack Simpson, now six years
old, sitting between them, as grave and as immovable as his supporters.
One dog is on either side of him and his arms are thrown round their
broad backs. Mrs. Haden is laying the table for her husband's return;
she glances occasionally at the quiet group in front of the fire, and
mutters to herself: "I never did see such a child in all my born days."
Presently a sudden and simultaneous pricking of the closely-cropped ears
of Juno and Bess proclaim that among the many footsteps outside they
have detected the tread of their master.
Jack accepts the intimation and struggles up to his feet just as Bill
Haden lifts the latch and enters.
"It's a fine day, Bill," his wife said.
"Be it?" the collier replied in return. "I took no note o't. However it
doant rain, and that's all I cares for. And how's the dogs? Did you give
Juno that physic ball I got for her?"
"It's no manner of use, Bill, leaving they messes wi' me. I ha' tould
you so scores o' times. She woant take it from me. She sets her jaws
that fast that horses could na pull 'em apart, and all the while I'm
trying she keeps oop a growl like t' organ at the church. She's a' right
wi'out the physic, and well nigh pinned Mrs. Brice when she came in
to-day to borrow a flatiron. She was that frighted she skirled out and
well nigh fainted off. I had to send Jack round to the "Chequers" for
two o' gin before she came round."
"Mrs. Brice is a fool and you're another," Bill said. "Now, ooman, just
take off my boots for oim main tired. What be you staring at, Jack? Were
you nearly pinning Mother Brice too?"
"I doant pin folk, I doant," Jack said sturdily. "I kicks 'em, I do, but
I caught hold o' Juno's tail, and held on. And look 'ee here, dad, I've
been a thinking, doant 'ee lift I oop by my ears no more, not yet. They
are boath main sore. I doant believe neither Juno nor Bess would stand
bein lifted oop by their ears, not if they were sore. I be game enough,
I be, but till my ears be well you must try some other part. I expect
the cheek would hurt just as bad, so you can try that."
"I do wish, Bill, you would not try these tricks on the boy. He's game
enough, and if you'd ha' seen him fighting to-day with Mrs. Jackson's
Bill, nigh twice as big as himself, you'd ha' said so too; but it ain't
Christian-like to try children the same way as pups, and really his ears
are sore, awful sore. I chanced t' notice 'em when I washed his face
afore he went to school, and they be main bad, I tell 'ee."
"Coom here," the miner said to Jack. "Aye, they be sore surely; why
didn't 'ee speak afore, Jack? I doant want to hurt 'ee, lad."
"I wa'n't going to speak," Jack said. "Mother found it out, and said
she'd tell 'ee o't; but the last two nights I were well nigh yelping
when 'ee took me up."
"You're a good plucked 'un, Jack," Bill Haden said, "and I owt not t' ha
done it, but I didn't think it hurt 'ee, leastways not more nor a boy
owt to be hurt, to try if 'ee be game!"
"And what's you and t' dogs been doing to-day, Jack?" the miner asked,
as he began at his dinner.
"We went for a walk, dad, after school, out in the lanes; we saw a big
black cat, and t' dogs chased her into a tree, then we got 't a pond,
and d'ye know, dad, Bess went in and swam about, she did!"
"She did?" the miner said sharply. "Coom here, Bess;" and leaving his
meal, he began anxiously to examine the bull-dog's eyes and listened
attentively to her breathing. "That were a rum start for a bull too,
Jack. She doant seem to ha' taken no harm, but maybe it ain't showed
itself. Mother, you give her some hot grub t' night. Doant you let her
go in t' water again, Jack. What on airth made her tak it into her head
to go into t' water noo, I wonder?"
"I can't help it if she wants to," Jack said; "she doant mind I, not
when she doant want to mind. I welted her t'other day when she wanted to
go a't parson's coo, but she got hold o' t' stick and pulled it out o'
my hand."
"And quite raight too," Bill Haden said; "don't 'ee try to welt they
dogs, or I'll welt thee!"
"I doant care," the child said sturdily; "if I goes out in charge o'
they dogs, theys got to mind me, and how can I make 'em mind me if I
doant welt 'em? What would 'ee say to I if Bess got had up afore the
court for pinning t' parson's coo?"
As no ready reply occurred to Bill Haden to this question he returned to
his meal. Juno and Bess watched him gravely till he had finished, and
then, having each received a lump of meat put carefully aside for them,
returned to the fire. Jack, curling himself up beside them, lay with his
head on Juno's body and slept till Mrs. Haden, having cleared the table
and washed up the things, sent him out to play, her husband having at
the conclusion of his meal lighted his pipe and strolled over to the
"Chequers."
Bill Haden had, according to his lights, been a good father to the child
of his old mate Simpson. He treated him just as if he had been his own.
He spent twopence a day less in beer than before, and gave his wife
fourteen pence in addition to her weekly money for household expenses,
for milk for the kid, just as he allowed twopence a day each for bones
for Juno and Bess. He also when requested by his wife handed over what
sum was required for clothing and shoes, not without grumbling, however,
and comparisons as to the wants of dorgs and boys, eminently
unfavourable to the latter. The weekly twopence for schooling Mrs. Haden
had, during the year that Jack had been at school, paid out of her
housekeeping money, knowing that the expenses of the dogs afforded no
precedent whatever for such a charge.
Bill Haden was, however, liberal to the boy in many ways, and when in a
good temper would often bestow such halfpence as he might have in his
pocket upon him, and now and then taking him with him into town,
returned with such clothes and shoes that "mother" held up her hands at
the extravagance.
Among his young companions Jack was liked but feared. When he had money
he would purchase bull's-eyes, and collecting all his acquaintances,
distribute them among them; but he was somewhat sedate and old-fashioned
in his ways, from his close friendships with such thoughtful and
meditative animals as Juno and Bess, and when his wrath was excited he
was terrible. Never uttering a cry, however much hurt, he would fight
with an obstinacy and determination which generally ended by giving him
the victory, for if he once got hold of an antagonist's hair--pinning
coming to him naturally--no amount of blows or ill-treatment could
force him to leave go until his agonized opponent confessed himself
vanquished.
It was not often, however, that Jack came in contact with the children
of his own age. His duties as guardian of the "dorgs" absorbed the
greater part of his time, and as one or both of these animals generally
accompanied him when he went beyond the door, few cared about having
anything to say to him when so attended; for the guardianship was by no
means entirely on his side, and however excellent their qualities and
pure their breed, neither Juno nor Bess were animals with whom strangers
would have ventured upon familiarity.
Jack's reports to his "dad" of Bess's inclination to attack t' parson's
coo was not without effect, although Bill Haden had made no remark at
the time. That night, however, he observed to his wife: "I've been a
thinking it over, Jane, and I be come to the opinion that it's better t'
boy should not go out any more wi' t' dorgs. Let 'em bide at home, I'll
take 'em oot when they need it. If Bess takes it into her head to pin a
coo there might be trouble, an I doan't want trouble. Her last litter o'
pups brought me a ten pun note, and if they had her oop at 'a court and
swore her life away as a savage brute, which she ain't no way, it would
pretty nigh break my heart."
The execution of this, as of many other good intentions, however, was
postponed until an event happened which led to Jack's being definitely
relieved of the care of his canine friends.
Two years had passed, when one morning Jack was calmly strolling along
the road accompanied by Juno and Bess. A gig came rapidly along
containing two young bagmen, as commercial travellers were still called
in Stokebridge. The driver, seeing a child with two dogs, conceived that
this was a favourable opportunity for a display of that sense of playful
humour whose point lies in the infliction of pain on others, without any
danger of personal consequences to the inflictor.
With a sharp sweep he brought down his whip across Jack's back, managing
to include Bess in the stroke.
Jack set up a shout of mingled pain and indignation, and stooping for a
stone, hurled it after the man who had struck him. Bess's response to
the assault upon her was silent, but as prompt and far more effectual.
With two springs she was beside the horse, and leaping up caught it by
the nostrils and dragged it to the ground.
Juno at once joined in the fray, and made desperate attempts to climb
into the gig and seize its inmates, who had nearly been thrown out as
the horse fell.
Recovering himself, the driver, pale with terror, clubbed his whip, and
struck at Juno with the butt-end.
"Don't 'ee hit her," Jack cried as he arrived on the spot; "if thou dost
she'll tear 'ee limb from limb."
"Call the brute off, you little rascal," cried the other, "it's killing
the horse."
"Thou'd best keep a civil tongue in thy head," the child said coolly,
"or it will be bad for 'ee. What did 'ee hit I and Bess for? It would
serve 'ee roight if she had pinned 'ee instead o' t' horse."
"Call them off," the fellow shouted as Juno's teeth met in close
proximity to his leg.
"It be all very well to say call 'em orf," Jack said, "but they doan't
moind I much. Have 'ee got a strap?"
The man hastily threw down a strap, and this Jack passed through Juno's
collar, she being too absorbed in her efforts to climb into the gig to
heed what the child was doing; then he buckled it to the wheel.
"Noo," he said, "ye can light down t' other side. She caan't reach 'ee
there."
The young men leapt down, and ran to the head of the horse; the poor
brute was making frantic efforts to rise, but the bull-dog held him down
with her whole might.
Jack shouted and pulled, but in vain; Bess paid no attention to his
voice.
"Can you bite his tail?" one of the frightened men said; "I've heard
that is good."
"Boite her tail!" Jack said in contempt; "doan't yer see she's a
full-bred un; ye moight boite her tail off, and she would care nowt
about 't. I've got summat here that may do."
He drew out a twisted paper from his pocket.
"This is snuff," he said; "if owt will make her loose, this will. Now
one o' yer take holt by her collar on each side, and hoult tight, yer
know, or she'll pin ye when she leaves go o' the horse. Then when she
sneezes you pull her orf, and hoult fast."
The fear of the men that the horse would be killed overpowered their
dread of the dog, and each took a firm grip upon its collar. Then Jack
placed a large pinch of snuff to its nostrils. A minute later it took
effect, the iron jaws unclosed with a snap, and in an instant Bess was
snatched away from the horse, which, delivered from its terrible foe,
sank back groaning on the road. Bess made the most furious attempts to
free herself from her captors, but in vain, and Juno strained
desperately at the strap to come to the assistance of her offspring.
"Ha' ye got another strap?" Jack asked.
"There's a chain in the box under the seat."
Jack with some difficulty and an amount of deliberation for which the
men could gladly have slain him, climbed up into the gig, and presently
came back with the chain.
"Noo tak' her round to t' other side o' gig," he said; "we'll fasten her
just as Juno is."
When Bess was securely chained to the wheel the men ran to raise the
horse, who lay with its head in a pool of blood.
"There's a pond in yon field," Jack said, "if 'ee wants water."
After Bess was secured Jack had slipped round to Juno, and kept his hand
upon the buckle in readiness to loose her should any attempt be made
upon his personal safety. The men, however, were for the moment too
scared to think of him. It was some time before the horse was got on to
its legs, with a wet cloth wrapped round its bleeding wound. Fortunately
Bess's grip had included the bit-strap as well as the nostrils, and this
had somewhat lessened the serious nature of the hurt.
Jack had by this time pacified the dogs, and when the men looked round,
after getting the horse on to its legs, they were alarmed to see him
standing by quietly holding the | 3,170.463448 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.4457100 | 2,362 | 12 |
Produced by Charles Franks, David Garcia and the PG Online Distributed
Proofreading Team
[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, wife of George Page, there came slowly, in her thirtieth
year, a sullen conviction that life was monstrously unfair. From a
resentful realization that she was not happy in her marriage, Emeline's
mind went back to the days of her pert, precocious childhood and her
restless and discontented girlhood, and she felt, with a sort of
smouldering fury, that she had never been happy, had never had a fair
chance, at all!
It took Mrs. Page some years to come to this conclusion, for, if she was
shrewd and sharp among the women she knew, she was, in essential things,
an unintelligent woman, and mental effort of any sort was strange to
her. Throughout her entire life, her mind had never been truly awakened.
She had scrambled through Grammar School, and had followed it with five
years as saleswoman in a millinery store, in that district of San
Francisco known as the Mission, marrying George Page at twenty-three,
and up to that time well enough pleased with herself and her life.
But that was eight years ago. Now Emeline could see that she had
reached--more, she had passed--her prime. She began to see that the
moods of those early years, however violent and changing, had been fed
upon secret springs of hope, hope vague and baseless enough, but strong
to colour a girl's life with all the brightness of a thousand dawns.
There had been rare potentialities in those days, anything might happen,
something _would_ happen. The little Emeline Cox, moving between the
dreary discomfort of home and the hated routine of school, might
surprise all these dull seniors and school-mates some day! She might
become an actress, she might become a great singer, she might make a
brilliant marriage.
As she grew older and grew prettier, these vague, bright dreams
strengthened. Emeline's mother was an overworked and shrill-voiced
woman, whose personality drove from the Shotwell Street house whatever
small comfort poverty and overcrowding and dirt left in it. She had no
personal message for Emeline. The older woman had never learned the care
of herself, her children, her husband, or her house. She had naturally
nothing to teach her daughter. Emeline's father occasionally thundered a
furious warning to his daughters as to certain primitive moral laws. He
did not tell Emeline and her sisters why they might some day consent to
abandon the path of virtue, nor when, nor how. He never dreamed of
winning their affection and confidence, or of selecting their friends,
and making home a place to which these friends might occasionally come.
But he was fond of shouting, when Emeline, May, or Stella pinned on
their flimsy little hats for an evening walk, that if ever a girl of his
made a fool of herself and got into trouble, she need never come near
his door again! Perhaps Emeline and May and Stella felt that the
virtuous course, as exemplified by their parents, was not all of roses,
either, but they never said so, and always shuddered dutifully at the
paternal warning.
School also failed with the education of the inner Emeline, although she
moved successfully from a process known as "diagramming" sentences to a
serious literary analysis of "Snow-Bound" and "Evangeline," and passed
terrifying examinations in ancient history, geography, and advanced
problems in arithmetic. By the time she left school she was a tall,
giggling, black-eyed creature, to be found walking up and down Mission
Street, and gossiping and chewing gum on almost any sunny afternoon.
Between her mother's whining and her father's bullying, home life was
not very pleasant, but at least there was nothing unusual in the
situation; among all the girls that Emeline knew there was not one who
could go back to a clean room, a hospitable dining-room, a well-cooked
and nourishing meal. All her friends did as she did: wheedled money for
new veils and new shoes from their fathers, helped their mothers
reluctantly and scornfully when they must, slipped away to the street as
often as possible, and when they were at home, added their complaints
and protests to the general unpleasantness.
Had there been anything different before her eyes, who knows what plans
for domestic reform might have taken shape in the girl's plastic brain?
Emeline had never seen one example of real affection and cooperation
between mother and daughters, of work quickly and skilfully done and
forgotten, of a clean bright house and a blossoming garden; she had
never heard a theory otherwise than that she was poor, her friends were
poor, her parents were poor, and that born under the wheels of a
monstrous social injustice, she might just as well be dirty and
discouraged and discontented at once and have done with it, for in the
end she must be so. Why should she question the abiding belief? Emeline
knew that, with her father's good pay and the excellent salaries earned
by her hard-handed, patient-eyed, stupid young brothers, the family
income ran well up toward three hundred dollars a month: her father
worked steadily at five dollars a day, George was a roofer's assistant
and earned eighty dollars a month, and Chester worked in a plumber's
shop, and at eighteen was paid sixty-five dollars. Emeline could only
conclude that three hundred dollars a month was insufficient to prevent
dirt, crowding, scolding, miserable meals, and an incessant atmosphere
of warm soapsuds.
Presently she outraged her father by going into "Delphine's" millinery
store. Delphine was really a stout, bleached woman named Lizzie Clarke,
whose reputation was not quite good, although nobody knew anything
definite against her. She had a double store on Market Street near
Eleventh, a dreary place, with dusty models in the windows, torn
Nottingham curtains draped behind them, and "Delphine" scrawled in gold
across the dusty windows in front. Emeline used to wonder, in the days
when she and her giggling associates passed "Delphine's" window, who
ever bought the dreadful hats in the left-hand window, although they
admitted a certain attraction on the right. Here would be a sign: "Any
Hat in this Window, Two Dollars," surrounded by cheap, dust-grained
felts, gaudily trimmed, or coarse straws wreathed with cotton flowers.
Once or twice Emeline and her friends went in, and one day when a card
in the window informed the passers-by that an experienced saleslady was
wanted, the girl, sick of the situation at home and longing for novelty,
boldly applied for the position. Miss Clarke engaged her at once.
Emeline met, as she had expected, a storm at home, but she weathered it,
and kept her position. It was hard work, and poorly paid, but the girl's
dreams gilded everything, and she loved the excitement of making sales,
came eagerly to the gossip and joking of her fellow-workers every
morning, and really felt herself to be in the current of life at last.
Miss Clarke was no better than her reputation, and would have willingly
helped her young saleswoman into a different sort of life. But Emeline's
little streak of shrewd selfishness saved her. Emeline indulged in a
hundred little coarsenesses and indiscretions, but take the final step
toward ruin she would not. Nobody was going to get the better of her,
she boasted. She used rouge and lip red. She "met fellers" under flaming
gas jets, and went to dance halls with them, and to the Sunday picnics
that were her father's especial abomination; she shyly told vile stories
and timidly used strong words, but there it ended. Perhaps some tattered
remnant of the golden dream still hung before her eyes; perhaps she
still clung to the hope of a dim, wonderful time to come.
More than that, the boys she knew were not a vicious lot; the Jimmies
and Johnnies, the Dans and Eds, were for the most part neighbours, no
more anxious to antagonize Emeline's father than she was. They might
kiss her good-night at her door, they might deliberately try to get the
girls to miss the last train home from the picnic, but their spirit was
of idle mischief rather than malice, and a stinging slap from Emeline's
hand afforded them, as it did her, a certain shamed satisfaction.
George Page came into "Delphine's" on a windy summer afternoon when
Emeline had been there for nearly five years. He was a salesman for some
lines of tailored hats, a San Franciscan, but employed by a New York
wholesale house. Emeline chanced to be alone in the place, for Miss
Clarke was sick in bed, and the other saleswoman away on her vacation.
The trimmers, glancing out through a plush curtain at the rear, saw Miss
Cox and the "drummer" absorbed in a three hours' conversation. From two
to five o'clock they talked; the drummer watching her in obvious
admiration when an occasional customer interrupted, and when Miss Cox
went home the drummer escorted her. Emeline had left the parental roof
some two years before; she was rooming, now, with a mild and virtuous
girl named Regina Lynch, in Howard Street. Regina was the sort of girl
frequently selected by a girl of Emeline's type for confidante and
companion: timid, conventional, always ready to laugh and admire. Regina
consented to go to dinner with Emeline and Mr. Page, and as she later
refused to go to the theatre, Emeline would not go either; they all
walked out Market Street from the restaurant, and reached the Howard
Street house at about nine o'clock. Regina went straight upstairs, but
Emeline and George Page sat on the steps an hour longer, under the
bright summer moon, and when Emeline went upstairs she woke her roommate
up, and announced her engagement.
George came into the store at nine o'clock the next morning, to
radiantly confirm all that they had said the night before, and with
great simplicity the two began to plan for their future; from that time
they had breakfast, lunch, and dinner together every | 3,170.46575 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.5398640 | 244 | 30 |
Produced by Charles Bowen from scans provided by Google
Books "The Grey Monk" in THE ARGOSY (Vol.s 57 & 58)
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Chapters 1-25. "The Argosy. Vol. LVII.
January to June, 1894."
https://books.google.com/books?id=xCY2AAAAMAAJ
(the University of Michigan)
Chapters 26-51. "The Argosy. Vol. LVIII.
July to December, 1894."
https://books.google.com/books?id=A-kYAQAAIAAJ
(the University of California)
2. Illustrations (by M. L. Gow) are not reproduced here.
THE GREY MONK.
By T. W. SPEIGHT.
CONTENTS.
Chap. I. Alec's Sentence.
II. An Old Family and its Home.
III. Alec's Proposition.
IV. An Offer and its Acceptance.
V. At One Fell Blow.
VI. Alec's Fate.
VII. Too Late.
VIII. | 3,170.559904 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.7374280 | 7,435 | 101 |
Produced by David Reed, and Ronald J. Wilson
REAL SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE
By Richard Harding Davis
MAJOR-GENERAL HENRY RONALD DOUGLAS MACIVER
ANY sunny afternoon, on Fifth Avenue, or at night in the _table d'hote_
restaurants of University Place, you may meet the soldier of fortune who
of all his brothers in arms now living is the most remarkable. You may
have noticed him; a stiffly erect, distinguished-looking man, with gray
hair, an imperial of the fashion of Louis Napoleon, fierce blue eyes,
and across his forehead a sabre cut.
This is Henry Ronald Douglas MacIver, for some time in India an ensign
in the Sepoy mutiny; in Italy, lieutenant under Garibaldi; in Spain,
captain under Don Carlos; in our Civil War, major in the Confederate
army; in Mexico, lieutenant-colonel under the Emperor Maximilian;
colonel under Napoleon III, inspector of cavalry for the Khedive of
Egypt, and chief of cavalry and general of brigade of the army of King
Milan of Servia. These are only a few of his military titles. In 1884
was published a book giving the story of his life up to that year. It
was called "Under Fourteen Flags." If to-day General MacIver were to
reprint the book, it would be called "Under Eighteen Flags."
MacIver was born on Christmas Day, 1841, at sea, a league off the shore
of Virginia. His mother was Miss Anna Douglas of that State; Ronald
MacIver, his father, was a Scot, a Rossshire gentleman, a younger son of
the chief of the Clan MacIver. Until he was ten years old young MacIver
played in Virginia at the home of his father. Then, in order that he
might be educated, he was shipped to Edinburgh to an uncle, General
Donald Graham. After five years his uncle obtained for him a commission
as ensign in the Honorable East India Company, and at sixteen, when
other boys are preparing for college, MacIver was in the Indian Mutiny,
fighting, not for a flag, nor a country, but as one fights a wild
animal, for his life. He was wounded in the arm, and, with a sword, cut
over the head. As a safeguard against the sun the boy had placed inside
his helmet a wet towel. This saved him to fight another day, but even
with that protection the sword sank through the helmet, the towel, and
into the skull. To-day you can see the scar. He was left in the road
for dead, and even after his wounds had healed, was six weeks in the
hospital.
This tough handling at the very start might have satisfied some men, but
in the very next war MacIver was a volunteer and wore the red shirt of
Garibaldi. He remained at the front throughout that campaign, and until
within a few years there has been no campaign of consequence in which he
has not taken part. He served in the Ten Years' War in Cuba, in
Brazil, in Argentina, in Crete, in Greece, twice in Spain in Carlist
revolutions, in Bosnia, and for four years in our Civil War under
Generals Jackson and Stuart around Richmond. In this great war he was
four times wounded.
It was after the surrender of the Confederate army, that, with other
Southern officers, he served under Maximilian in Mexico; in Egypt, and
in France. Whenever in any part of the world there was fighting, or the
rumor of fighting, the procedure of the general invariably was the
same. He would order himself to instantly depart for the front, and on
arriving there would offer to organize a foreign legion. The command of
this organization always was given to him. But the foreign legion was
merely the entering wedge. He would soon show that he was fitted for
a better command than a band of undisciplined volunteers, and would
receive a commission in the regular army. In almost every command in
which he served that is the manner in which promotion came. Sometimes he
saw but little fighting, sometimes he should have died several deaths,
each of a nature more unpleasant than the others. For in war the obvious
danger of a bullet is but a three hundred to one shot, while in the pack
against the combatant the jokers are innumerable. And in the career of
the general the unforeseen adventures are the most interesting. A man
who in eighteen campaigns has played his part would seem to have
earned exemption from any other risks, but often it was outside the
battle-field that MacIver encountered the greatest danger. He fought
several duels, in two of which he killed his adversary; several attempts
were made to assassinate him, and while on his way to Mexico he was
captured by hostile Indians. On returning from an expedition in Cuba he
was cast adrift in an open boat and for days was without food.
Long before I met General MacIver I had read his book and had heard of
him from many men who had met him in many different lands while
engaged in as many different undertakings. Several of the older war
correspondents knew him intimately; Bennett Burleigh of the _Telegraph_
was his friend, and E. F. Knight of the _Times_ was one of those who
volunteered for a filibustering expedition which MacIver organized
against New Guinea. The late Colonel Ochiltree of Texas told me tales
of MacIver's bravery, when as young men they were fellow officers in the
Southern army, and Stephen Bonsal had met him when MacIver was United
States Consul at Denia in Spain. When MacIver arrived at this post, the
ex-consul refused to vacate the Consulate, and MacIver wished to settle
the difficulty with duelling pistols. As Denia is a small place, the
inhabitants feared for their safety, and Bonsal, who was our _charge
d'affaires_ then, was sent from Madrid to adjust matters. Without
bloodshed he got rid of the ex-consul, and later MacIver so endeared
himself to the Denians that they begged the State Department to retain
him in that place for the remainder of his life.
Before General MacIver was appointed to a high position at the St. Louis
Fair, I saw much of him in New York. His room was in a side street in
an old-fashioned boarding-house, and overlooked his neighbor's back yard
and a typical New York City sumac tree; but when the general talked one
forgot he was within a block of the Elevated, and roamed over all
the world. On his bed he would spread out wonderful parchments, with
strange, heathenish inscriptions, with great seals, with faded ribbons.
These were signed by Sultans, Secretaries of War, Emperors, filibusters.
They were military commissions, titles of nobility, brevets for
decorations, instructions and commands from superior officers.
Translated the phrases ran: "Imposing special confidence in," "we
appoint," or "create," or "declare," or "In recognition of services
rendered to our person," or "country," or "cause," or "For bravery on
the field of battle we bestow the Cross----"
As must a soldier, the general travels "light," and all his worldly
possessions were crowded ready for mobilization into a small compass. He
had his sword, his field blanket, his trunk, and the tin despatch
boxes that held his papers. From these, like a conjurer, he would draw
souvenirs of all the world. From the embrace of faded letters, he would
unfold old photographs, daguerrotypes, and miniatures of fair women and
adventurous men: women who now are queens in exile, men who, lifted on
waves of absinthe, still, across a _cafe_ table, tell how they will win
back a crown.
Once in a written document the general did me the honor to appoint me
his literary executor, but as he is young, and as healthy as myself, it
never may be my lot to perform such an unwelcome duty. And to-day all
one can write of him is what the world can read in "Under Fourteen
Flags," and some of the "foot-notes to history" which I have copied
from his scrap-book. This scrap-book is a wonderful volume, but owing
to "political" and other reasons, for the present, of the many clippings
from newspapers it contains there are only a few I am at liberty to
print. And from them it is difficult to make a choice. To sketch in a
few thousand words a career that had developed under Eighteen Flags is
in its very wealth embarrassing.
Here is one story, as told by the scrap-book, of an expedition that
failed. That it failed was due to a British Cabinet Minister; for had
Lord Derby possessed the imagination of the Soldier of Fortune, his
Majesty's dominions might now be the richer by many thousands of square
miles and many thousands of black subjects.
On October 29, 1883, the following appeared in the London _Standard_:
"The New Guinea Exploration and Colonization Company is already
chartered, and the first expedition expects to leave before Christmas."
"The prospectus states settlers intending to join the first party must
contribute one hundred pounds toward the company. This subscription will
include all expenses for passage money. Six months' provisions will be
provided, together with tents and arms for protection. Each subscriber
of one hundred pounds is to obtain a certificate entitling him to one
thousand acres."
The view of the colonization scheme taken by the _Times_ of London, of
the same date, is less complaisant. "The latest commercial sensation is
a proposed company for the seizure of New Guinea. Certain adventurous
gentlemen are looking out for one hundred others who have money and
a taste for buccaneering. When the company has been completed, its
share-holders are to place themselves under military regulations, sail
in a body for New Guinea, and without asking anybody's leave, seize
upon the island and at once, in some unspecified way, proceed to realize
large profits. If the idea does not suggest comparisons with the large
designs of Sir Francis Drake, it is at least not unworthy of Captain
Kidd."
When we remember the manner in which some of the colonies of Great
Britain were acquired, the _Times_ seems almost squeamish.
In a Melbourne paper, June, 1884, is the following paragraph:
"Toward the latter part of 1883 the Government of Queensland planted the
flag of Great Britain on the shores of New Guinea. When the news reached
England it created a sensation. The Earl of Derby, Secretary for the
Colonies, refused, however, to sanction the annexation of New
Guinea, and in so doing acted contrary to the sincere wish of every
right-thinking Anglo-Saxon under the Southern Cross.
"While the subsequent correspondence between the Home and Queensland
governments was going on, Brigadier-General H. R. MacIver originated and
organized the New Guinea Exploration and Colonization Company in London,
with a view to establishing settlements on the island. The company,
presided over by General Beresford of the British Army, and having
an eminently representative and influential board of directors, had a
capital of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and placed the
supreme command of the expedition in the hands of General MacIver.
Notwithstanding the character of the gentlemen composing the board of
directors, and the truly peaceful nature of the expedition, his Lordship
informed General MacIver that in the event of the latter's attempting to
land on New Guinea, instructions would be sent to the officer in command
of her Majesty's fleet in the Western Pacific to fire upon the company's
vessel. This meant that the expedition would be dealt with as a
filibustering one."
In _Judy_, September 21, 1887, appears:
"We all recollect the treatment received by Brigadier-General MacI. in
the action he took with respect to the annexation of New Guinea. The
General, who is a sort of Pizarro, with a dash of D'Artagnan, was
treated in a most scurvy manner by Lord Derby. Had MacIver not been
thwarted in his enterprise, the whole of New Guinea would now have been
under the British flag, and we should not be cheek-by-jowl with the
Germans, as we are in too many places."
_Society_, September 3, 1887, says:
"The New Guinea expedition proved abortive, owing to the blundering
shortsightedness of the then Government, for which Lord Derby was
chiefly responsible, but what little foothold we possess in New Guinea,
is certainly due to General MacIver's gallant effort."
Copy of statement made by J. Rintoul Mitchell, June 2, 1887:
"About the latter end of the year 1883, when I was editor-in-chief of
the _Englishman_ in Calcutta, I was told by Captain de Deaux, assistant
secretary in the Foreign Office of the Indian Government, that he
had received a telegram from Lord Derby to the effect that if General
MacIver ventured to land upon the coast of New Guinea it would become
the duty of Lord Ripon, Viceroy, to use the naval forces at his command
for the purpose of deporting General MacI. Sir Aucland Calvin can
certify to this, as it was discussed in the Viceregal Council."
Just after our Civil War MacIver was interested in another expedition
which also failed. Its members called themselves the Knights of Arabia,
and their object was to colonize an island much nearer to our shores
than New Guinea. MacIver, saying that his oath prevented, would never
tell me which island this was, but the reader can choose from
among Cuba, Haiti, and the Hawaiian group. To have taken Cuba, the
"colonizers" would have had to fight not only Spain, but the Cubans
themselves, on whose side they were soon fighting in the Ten Years' War;
so Cuba may be eliminated. And as the expedition was to sail from the
Atlantic side, and not from San Francisco, the island would appear to be
the Black Republic. From the records of the times it would seem that the
greater number of the Knights of Arabia were veterans of the Confederate
army, and there is no question but that they intended to subjugate the
blacks of Haiti and form a republic for white men in which slavery would
be recognized. As one of the leaders of this filibustering expedition,
MacIver was arrested by General Phil Sheridan and for a short time cast
into jail.
This chafed the general's spirit, but he argued philosophically that
imprisonment for filibustering, while irksome, brought with it
no reproach. And, indeed, sometimes the only difference between a
filibuster and a government lies in the fact that the government fights
the gun-boats of only the enemy while a filibuster must dodge the boats
of the enemy and those of his own countrymen. When the United States
went to war with Spain there were many men in jail as filibusters, for
doing that which at the time the country secretly approved, and later
imitated. And because they attempted exactly the same thing for which
Dr. Jameson was imprisoned in Holloway Jail, two hundred thousand of his
countrymen are now wearing medals.
The by-laws of the Knights of Arabia leave but little doubt as to its
object.
By-law No. II reads:
"We, as Knights of Arabia, pledge ourselves to aid, comfort, and protect
all Knights of Arabia, especially those who are wounded in obtaining our
grand object.
"III--Great care must be taken that no unbeliever or outsider shall gain
any insight into the mysteries or secrets of the Order.
"IV--The candidate will have to pay one hundred dollars cash to
the Captain of the Company, and the candidate will receive from the
Secretary a Knight of Arabia bond for one hundred dollars in gold, with
ten per cent interest, payable ninety days after the recognition of (The
Republic of----) by the United States, or any government.
"V--All Knights of Arabia will be entitled to one hundred acres of
land, location of said land to be drawn for by lottery. The products are
coffee, sugar, tobacco, and cotton."
A local correspondent of the New York _Herald_ writes of the arrest of
MacIver as follows:
"When MacIver will be tried is at present unknown, as his case has
assumed a complicated aspect. He claims British protection as a subject
of her British Majesty, and the English Consul has forwarded a statement
of his case to Sir Frederick Bruce at Washington, accompanied by a copy
of the by-laws. General Sheridan also has forwarded a statement to
the Secretary of War, accompanied not only by the by-laws, but very
important documents, including letters from Jefferson Davis, Benjamin,
the Secretary of State of the Confederate States, and other personages
prominent in the Rebellion, showing that MacIver enjoyed the highest
confidence of the Confederacy."
As to the last statement, an open letter I found in his scrap-book is an
excellent proof. It is as follows: "To officers and members of all camps
of United Confederate Veterans: It affords me the greatest pleasure to
say that the bearer of this letter, General Henry Ronald MacIver, was an
officer of great gallantry in the Confederate Army, serving on the staff
at various times of General Stonewall Jackson, J. E. B. Stuart, and E.
Kirby Smith, and that his official record is one of which any man may be
proud.
"Respectfully, MARCUS J. WRIGHT, "_Agent for the Collection of
Confederate Records_.
"War Records office, War Department, Washington, July 8, 1895."
At the close of the war duels between officers of the two armies were
not infrequent. In the scrap-book there is the account of one of these
affairs sent from Vicksburg to a Northern paper by a correspondent who
was an eye-witness of the event. It tells how Major MacIver, accompanied
by Major Gillespie, met, just outside of Vicksburg, Captain Tomlin of
Vermont, of the United States Artillery Volunteers. The duel was with
swords. MacIver ran Tomlin through the body. The correspondent writes:
"The Confederate officer wiped his sword on his handkerchief. In a few
seconds Captain Tomlin expired. One of Major MacIver's seconds called to
him: 'He is dead; you must go. These gentlemen will look after the body
of their friend.' A <DW64> boy brought up the horses, but before mounting
MacIver said to Captain Tomlin's seconds: 'My friends are in haste for
me to go. Is there anything I can do? I hope you consider that this
matter has been settled honorably?'
"There being no reply, the Confederates rode away."
In a newspaper of to-day so matter-of-fact an acceptance of an event so
tragic would make strange reading.
From the South MacIver crossed through Texas to join the Royalist army
under the Emperor Maximilian. It was while making his way, with other
Confederate officers, from Galveston to El Paso, that MacIver was
captured by the Indians. He was not ill-treated by them, but for three
months was a prisoner, until one night, the Indians having camped near
the Rio Grande, he escaped into Mexico. There he offered his sword to
the Royalist commander, General Mejia, who placed him on his staff, and
showed him some few skirmishes. At Monterey MacIver saw big fighting,
and for his share in it received the title of Count, and the order of
Guadaloupe. In June, contrary to all rules of civilized war, Maximilian
was executed and the empire was at an end. MacIver escaped to the coast,
and from Tampico took a sailing vessel to Rio de Janeiro. Two months
later he was wearing the uniform of another emperor, Dom Pedro, and,
with the rank of lieutenant-colonel, was in command of the Foreign
Legion of the armies of Brazil and Argentina, which at that time as
allies were fighting against Paraguay.
MacIver soon recruited seven hundred men, but only half of these ever
reached the front. In Buenos Ayres cholera broke out and thirty thousand
people died, among the number about half the Legion. MacIver was among
those who suffered, and before he recovered was six weeks in hospital.
During that period, under a junior officer, the Foreign Legion was sent
to the front, where it was disbanded.
On his return to Glasgow, MacIver foregathered with an old friend,
Bennett Burleigh, whom he had known when Burleigh was a lieutenant
in the navy of the Confederate States. Although today known as a
distinguished war correspondent, in those days Burleigh was something of
a soldier of fortune himself, and was organizing an expedition to assist
the Cretan insurgents against the Turks. Between the two men it was
arranged that MacIver should precede the expedition to Crete and
prepare for its arrival. The Cretans received him gladly, and from the
provisional government he received a commission in which he was given
"full power to make war on land and sea against the enemies of Crete,
and particularly against the Sultan of Turkey and the Turkish forces,
and to burn, destroy, or capture any vessel bearing the Turkish flag."
This permission to destroy the Turkish navy single-handed strikes one
as more than generous, for the Cretans had no navy, and before one could
begin the destruction of a Turkish gun-boat it was first necessary to
catch it and tie it to a wharf.
At the close of the Cretan insurrection MacIver crossed to Athens and
served against the brigands in Kisissia on the borders of Albania
and Thessaly as volunteer aide to Colonel Corroneus, who had been
commander-in-chief of the Cretans against the Turks. MacIver spent three
months potting at brigands, and for his services in the mountains was
recommended for the highest Greek decoration.
From Greece it was only a step to New York, and almost immediately
MacIver appears as one of the Goicouria-Christo expedition to Cuba,
of which Goicouria was commander-in-chief, and two famous American
officers, Brigadier-General Samuel C. Williams was a general and Colonel
Wright Schumburg was chief of staff.
In the scrap-book I find "General Order No. 11 of the Liberal Army of
the Republic of Cuba, issued at Cedar Keys, October 3, 1869." In it
Colonel MacIver is spoken of as in charge of officers not attached to
any organized corps of the division. And again:
"General Order No. V, Expeditionary Division, Republic of Cuba, on board
_Lilian_," announces that the place to which the expedition is bound has
been changed, and that General Wright Schumburg, who now is in command,
orders "all officers not otherwise commissioned to join Colonel
MacIver's 'Corps of Officers.'"
The _Lilian_ ran out of coal, and to obtain firewood put in at Cedar
Keys. For two weeks the patriots cut wood and drilled upon the beach,
when they were captured by a British gun-boat and taken to Nassau.
There they were set at liberty, but their arms, boat, and stores were
confiscated.
In a sailing vessel MacIver finally reached Cuba, and under Goicouria,
who had made a successful landing, saw some "help yourself" fighting.
Goicouria's force was finally scattered, and MacIver escaped from the
Spanish soldiery only by putting to sea in an open boat, in which he
endeavored to make Jamaica.
On the third day out he was picked up by a steamer and again landed at
Nassau, from which place he returned to New York.
At that time in this city there was a very interesting man named
Thaddeus P. Mott, who had been an officer in our army and later
had entered the service of Ismail Pasha. By the Khedive he had
been appointed a general of division and had received permission to
reorganize the Egyptian army.
His object in coming to New York was to engage officers for that
service. He came at an opportune moment. At that time the city was
filled with men who, in the Rebellion, on one side or the other, had
held command, and many of these, unfitted by four years of soldiering
for any other calling, readily accepted the commissions which Mott had
authority to offer. New York was not large enough to keep MacIver and
Mott long apart, and they soon came to an understanding. The agreement
drawn up between them is a curious document. It is written in a neat
hand on sheets of foolscap tied together like a Commencement-day
address, with blue ribbon. In it MacIver agrees to serve as colonel of
cavalry in the service of the Khedive. With a few legal phrases omitted,
the document reads as follows:
"Agreement entered into this 24th day of March, 1870, between the
Government of his Royal Highness and the Khedive of Egypt, represented
by General Thaddeus P. Mott of the first part, and H. R. H. MacIver of
New York City.
"The party of the second part, being desirous of entering into the
service of party of the first part, in the military capacity of a
colonel of cavalry, promises to serve and obey party of the first part
faithfully and truly in his military capacity during the space of five
years from this date; that the party of the second part waives all
claims of protection usually afforded to Americans by consular and
diplomatic agents of the United States, and expressly obligates himself
to be subject to the orders of the party of the first part, and to make,
wage, and vigorously prosecute war against any and all the enemies of
party of the first part; that the party of the second part will not
under any event be governed, controlled by, or submit to, any order,
law, mandate, or proclamation issued by the Government of the United
States of America, forbidding party of the second part to serve party
of the first part to make war according to any of the provisions herein
contained, _it being, however, distinctly understood_ that nothing
herein contained shall be construed as obligating party of the second
part to bear arms or wage war against the United States of America.
"Party of the first part promises to furnish party of the second part
with horses, rations, and pay him for his services the same salary now
paid to colonels of cavalry in United States army, and will furnish him
quarters suitable to his rank in army. Also promises, in the case of
illness caused by climate, that said party may resign his office and
shall receive his expenses to America and two months' pay; that he
receives one-fifth of his regular pay during his active service,
together with all expenses of every nature attending such enterprise."
It also stipulates as to what sums shall be paid his family or children
in case of his death.
To this MacIver signs this oath:
"In the presence of the ever-living God, I swear that I will in all
things honestly, faithfully, and truly keep, observe, and perform the
obligations and promises above enumerated, and endeavor to conform to
the wishes and desires of the Government of his Royal Highness, the
Khedive of Egypt, in all things connected with the furtherance of his
prosperity, and the maintenance of his throne."
On arriving at Cairo, MacIver was appointed inspector-general of
cavalry, and furnished with a uniform, of which this is a description:
"It consisted of a blue tunic with gold spangles, embroidered in gold
up the sleeves and front, neat-fitting red trousers, and high
patent-leather boots, while the inevitable fez completed the gay
costume."
The climate of Cairo did not agree with MacIver, and, in spite of
his "gay costume," after six months he left the Egyptian service. His
honorable discharge was signed by Stone Bey, who, in the favor of the
Khedive, had supplanted General Mott.
It is a curious fact that, in spite of his ill health, immediately after
leaving Cairo, MacIver was sufficiently recovered to at once plunge into
the Franco-Prussian War. At the battle of Orleans, while on the staff
of General Chanzy, he was wounded. In this war his rank was that of a
colonel of cavalry of the auxiliary army.
His next venture was in the Carlist uprising of 1873, when he formed a
Carlist League, and on several occasions acted as bearer of important
messages from the "King," as Don Carlos was called, to the sympathizers
with his cause in France and England.
MacIver was promised, if he carried out successfully a certain mission
upon which he was sent, and if Don Carlos became king, that he would be
made a marquis. As Don Carlos is still a pretender, MacIver is still a
general. Although in disposing of his sword MacIver never allowed his
personal predilections to weigh with him, he always treated himself to a
hearty dislike of the Turks, and we next find him fighting against them
in Herzegovina with the Montenegrins. And when the Servians declared
war against the same people, MacIver returned to London to organize a
cavalry brigade to fight with the Servian army.
Of this brigade and of the rapid rise of MacIver to highest rank and
honors in Servia, the scrap-book is most eloquent. The cavalry brigade
was to be called the Knights of the Red Cross.
In a letter to the editor of the _Hour_, the general himself speaks of
it in the following terms:
"It may be interesting to many of your readers to learn that a select
corps of gentlemen is at present in course of organization under
the above title with the mission of proceeding to the Levant to
take measures in case of emergency for the defense of the Christian
population, and more especially of British subjects who are to a great
extent unprovided with adequate means of protection from the religious
furies of the Mussulmans. The lives of Christian women and children are
in hourly peril from fanatical hordes. The Knights will be carefully
chosen and kept within strict military control, and will be under
command of a practical soldier with large experience of the Eastern
countries. Templars and all other crusaders are invited to give aid and
sympathy."
Apparently MacIver was not successful in enlisting many Knights, for
a war correspondent at the capital of Servia, waiting for the war to
begin, writes as follows:
"A Scotch soldier of fortune, Henry MacIver, a colonel by rank, has
arrived at Belgrade with a small contingent of military adventurers.
Five weeks ago I met him in Fleet Street, London, and had some talk
about his 'expedition.' He had received a commission from the Prince of
Servia to organize and command an independent cavalry brigade, and he
then was busily enrolling his volunteers into a body styled 'The Knights
of the Red Cross.' I am afraid some of his bold crusaders have earned
more distinction for their attacks on Fleet Street bars than they are
likely to earn on Servian battle-fields, but then I must not anticipate
history."
Another paper tells that at the end of the first week of his service as
a Servian officer, MacIver had enlisted ninety men, but that they were
scattered about the town, many without shelter and rations:
"He assembled his men on the Rialto, and in spite of official
expostulation, the men were marched up to the Minister's four
abreast--and they marched fairly well, making a good show. The War
Minister was taken by storm, and at once granted everything. It has
raised the English colonel's popularity with his men to fever heat."
This from the _Times_, London:
"Our Belgrade correspondent telegraphs last night:
"'There is here at present a gentleman named MacIver. He came from
England to offer himself and his sword to the Servians. The Servian
Minister of War gave him a colonel's commission. This morning I saw him
drilling about one hundred and fifty remarkably fine-looking fellows,
all clad in a good serviceable cavalry uniform, and he has horses."'
Later we find that:
"Colonel MacIver's Legion of Cavalry, organizing here, now numbers over
two hundred men."
And again:
"Prince Nica, a Roumanian cousin of the Princess Natalie of Servia, has
joined Colonel MacIver's cavalry corps."
Later, in the _Court Journal_, October 28, 1876, we read:
"Colonel MacIver, who a few years ago was very well known in military
circles in Dublin, now is making his mark with the Servian army. In
the war against the Turks, he commands about one thousand Russo-Servian
cavalry."
He was next to receive the following honors:
"Colonel MacIver has been appointed commander of the cavalry of the
Servian armies on the Morava and Timok, and has received the Cross of
the Takovo Order from General Tchemaieff for gallant conduct in the
field, and the gold medal for valor."
Later we learn from the _Daily News_:
"Mr. Lewis Farley, Secretary of the 'League in Aid of Christians of
Turkey,' has received the following letter, dated Belgrade, October 10,
1876:
"'DEAR SIR: In reference to the embroidered banner so kindly worked by
an English lady and forwarded by the League to Colonel MacIver, I have
great pleasure in | 3,170.757468 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.7395550 | 3,780 | 9 |
Produced by David Edwards, John Campbell 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 Books project.)
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The contractions ’t and n’t for “it” and “not” have a space
before and after them, so we see “is n’t” and “wer n’t” and “’t is”
in the original text. These spaces are retained in this etext. The
consistent exceptions in both the text and the etext are “don’t”
“can’t” and “won’t”.
Other contractions such as “they’re” and “you’re” have a half-space
in the original text; these words are closed up in the etext.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources. All misspellings
in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.
[Illustration:
_If this little world to-night
Suddenly should fall thro’ space
In a hissing, headlong flight,
Shrivelling from off its face,
As it falls into the sun,
In an instant every trace
Of the little crawling things--
Ants, philosophers, and lice,
Cattle, cockroaches, and kings,
Beggars, millionaires, and mice,
Men and maggots all as one
As it falls into the sun--
Who can say but at the same
Instant from some planet far
A child may watch us and exclaim:
“See the pretty shooting star!”_
]
_The_ Bashful
Earthquake
& _Other_ FABLES
and VERSES by
OLIVER HERFORD
with many pictures
by _the Author_
[Illustration]
New York: Published by
Charles Scribner’s Sons in
the Autumn of MDCCCXCVIII
_Copyright, 1898_,
BY OLIVER HERFORD.
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
_TO THE ILLUSTRATOR_
IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS AMIABLE CONDESCENSION IN LENDING
HIS EXQUISITELY DELICATE ART TO THE EMBELLISHMENT OF THESE POOR
VERSES FROM HIS SINCEREST ADMIRER
THE AUTHOR
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE 1
THE LOVESICK SCARECROW 7
THE MUSIC OF THE FUTURE 9
SONG 11
THE DOORLESS WOLF 12
THE BOLD BAD BUTTERFLY 15
CRUMBS 20
JAPANESQUE 21
THE DIFFERENCE 22
WHY YE BLOSSOME COMETH BEFORE YE LEAFE 23
THE FIRST FIRST OF APRIL 24
THE EPIGRAMMATIST 26
THE SILVER LINING 28
THE BOASTFUL BUTTERFLY 31
THE THREE WISHES 35
TRUTH 37
THE TRAGIC MICE 38
ABSENCE OF MIND 40
THE GRADUATE 41
THE POET’S PROPOSAL 44
A THREE-SIDED QUESTION 45
THE SNAIL’S DREAM 51
A CHRISTMAS LEGEND 52
HYDE AND SEEKE 54
IN THE CAFÉ 55
THE LEGEND OF THE LILY 58
THE UNTUTORED GIRAFFE 60
THE ENCHANTED WOOD 64
A BUNNY ROMANCE 68
THE FLOWER CIRCUS 72
THE FATUOUS FLOWER 77
A LOVE STORY 80
YE KNYGHTE-MARE 83
METAPHYSICS 84
THE PRINCESS THAT WAS N’T 86
THE LION’S TOUR 89
THE FUGITIVE THOUGHT 93
THE CUSSED DAMOZEL 97
A GAS-LOG REVERIE 101
CUPID’S FAULT 103
ALL ABOARD 104
KILLING TIME 105
THE MERMAID CLUB 107
A SONG 109
ANGEL’S TOYS 110
THE REFORMED TIGRESS 112
TWO LADIES 115
TO THE WOLF AT THE DOOR 119
THE FALL OF J. W. BEANE 121
THE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE
_Crime, Wickedness, Villany, Vice,
And Sin only misery bring;
If you want to be Happy and Nice,
Be good and all that sort of thing._
[Illustration: The Bashful Earthquake]
The Earthquake rumbled
And mumbled
And grumbled;
And then he bumped,
And everything tumbled--
Bumpyty-thump!
Thumpyty-bump!--
Houses and palaces all in a lump!
[Illustration]
“Oh, what a crash!
Oh, what a smash!
How could I ever be so rash?”
The Earthquake cried.
“What under the sun
Have I gone and done?
I never before was so mortified!”
Then away he fled,
And groaned as he sped:
“This comes of not looking before I tread.”
Out of the city along the road
He staggered, as under a heavy load,
Growing more weary with every league,
Till almost ready to faint with fatigue.
He came at last to a country lane
Bordering upon a field of grain;
And just at the spot where he paused to rest,
In a clump of wheat, hung a Dormouse nest.
[Illustration]
The sun in the west was sinking red,
And the Dormouse had just turned into bed,
Dreaming as only a Dormouse can,
When all of a sudden his nest began
To quiver and shiver and tremble and shake.
Something was wrong, and no mistake!
In a minute the Dormouse was wide awake,
And, putting his head outside his nest,
Cried: “WHO IS IT DARES DISTURB MY REST?”
[Illustration]
His voice with rage was a husky squeak.
The Earthquake by now had become so weak
He’d scarcely strength enough to speak.
He even forgot the rules of grammar;
All he could do was to feebly stammer:
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s me.
Please don’t be angry. I’ll try to be--”
No one will know what he meant to say,
For all at once he melted away.
* * * * *
The Dormouse, grumbling, went back to bed,
“Oh, bother the Bats!” was all he said.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: The Lovesick Scarecrow]
A scarecrow in a field of corn,
A thing of tatters all forlorn,
Once felt the influence of Spring
And fell in love--a foolish thing,
And most particularly so
In his case--_for he loved a crow_!
“Alack-a-day! it’s wrong, I know,
It’s wrong for me to love a crow;
An all-wise man created me
To scare the crows away,” cried he;
“And though the music of her ‘Caw’
Thrills through and through this heart of straw,
“My passion I must put away
And do my duty, come what may!
Yet oh, the cruelty of fate!
I fear she doth reciprocate
My love, for oft at dusk I hear
Her in my cornfield hovering near.
“And once I dreamt--oh, vision blest!
That she alighted on my breast.
’T is very, very hard, I know,
But all-wise man decreed it so.”
He cried and flung his arm in air,
The very picture of despair.
* * * * *
Poor Scarecrow, if he could but know!
Even now his lady-love, the Crow,
Sits in a branch, just out of sight,
With her good husband, waiting night,
To pluck from out his sleeping breast
His heart of straw to line her nest.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: The MUSIC of the FUTURE]
The politest musician that ever was seen
Was Montague Meyerbeer Mendelssohn Green.
So extremely polite he would take off his hat
Whenever he happened to meet with a cat.
[Illustration]
“It’s not that I’m partial to cats,” he’d explain;
“Their music to me is unspeakable pain.
There’s nothing that causes my flesh so to crawl
As when they perform a G-flat caterwaul.
Yet I cannot help feeling--in spite of their din--
When I hear at a concert the first violin
Interpret some exquisite thing of my own,
If it were not for _cat gut_ I’d never be known.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
And so, when I bow as you see to a cat,
It is n’t to _her_ that I take off my hat;
But to fugues and sonatas that possibly hide
Uncomposed in her--well--in her tuneful inside!”
[Illustration]
_SONG._
_Gather Kittens while you may,
Time brings only Sorrow;
And the Kittens of To-day
Will be Old Cats To-morrow._
[Illustration]
THE DOORLESS WOLF.
I saw, one day, when times were very good,
A newly rich man walking in a wood,
Who chanced to meet, all hungry, lean, and sore,
The wolf that used to sit outside his door.
Forlorn he was, and piteous his plaint.
“Help me!” he howled. “With hunger I am faint.
It is so long since I have seen a door--
And you are rich, and you have many score.
When you’d but one, I sat by it all day;
Now you have many, I am turned away.
Help me, good sir, once more to find a place.
Prosperity now stares me in the face.”
The newly rich man, jingling all the while
The silver in his pocket, smiled a smile:
He saw a way the wolf could be of use.
[Illustration]
“Good wolf,” said he, “you’re going to the deuce,--
The dogs, I mean,--and that will never do;
I think I’ve found a way to see you through.
I too have worries. Ever since I met
Prosperity I have been sore beset
By begging letters, charities, and cranks,
All very short in gold and long in thanks.
Now, if you’ll come and sit by my front door
From eight o’clock each morning, say, till four,
Then every one will think that I am poor,
And from their pesterings I’ll be secure.
Do you accept?” The wolf exclaimed, “I do!”
The rich man smiled; the wolf smiled; _I_ smiled, too,
And in my little book made haste to scrawl:
“Thus affluence makes niggards of us all!”
[Illustration]
[Illustration: The Bold Bad Butterfly]
One day a Poppy, just in play,
Said to a butterfly, “Go ’way,
Go ’way, you naughty thing! Oh, my!
But you’re a bold bad butterfly!”
Of course ’t was only said in fun,
He was a perfect paragon--
In every way a spotless thing
(Save for two spots upon his wing).
But tho’ his morals were the best,
He could not understand a jest;
And somehow what the Poppy said
Put ideas in his little head,
And soon he really came to wish
He _were_ the least bit “devilish.”
[Illustration]
He then affected manners rough
And strained his voice to make it gruff,
And scowled as who should say “Beware,
I am a dangerous character.
You’d best not fool with me, for I--
I am a bold, bad butterfly.”
He hung around the wildest flowers,
And kept the most unseemly hours,
With dragonflies and drunken bees,
And learned to say “By Jove!” with ease
Until his pious friends, aghast,
Exclaimed, “He’s getting awf’lly fast!”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
He shunned the nicer flowers, and threw
Out hints of shady things he knew
About the laurels, and one day
He even went so far to say
Something about the lilies sweet
I could not possibly repeat!
At length, it seems, from being told
How bad he was, he grew so bold,
This most obnoxious butterfly,
That one day, swaggering ’round the sky,
He swaggered in the net of Mist-
er Jones, the entomologist.
[Illustration]
“It seems a sin,” said Mr. J.,
“This harmless little thing to slay,”
As, taking it from out his net,
He pinned it to a board, and set
Upon a card below the same,
In letters large, its Latin name,
Which is--
+---------------------------+
| |
| ? |
| |
+---------------------------+
but I omit it, lest
Its family might be distressed,
_And stop the little sum per year
They pay me not to print it here_.
[Illustration: FINIS]
[Illustration]
CRUMBS.
Up to my frozen window-shelf
Each day a begging birdie comes,
And when I have a crust myself
The birdie always gets the crumbs.
They say who on the water throws
His bread, will get it back again;
If that is true, perhaps--who knows?--
I have not cast my crumbs in vain.
Indeed, I know it is not quite
The thing to boast of one’s good deed;
To what the left hand does, the right,
I am aware, should pay no heed.
Yet if in modest verse I tell
My tale, some editor, maybe,
May like it very much, and--well,
My bread will then return to me.
[Illustration: Japanesque]
Oh, where the white quince blossom swings
I love to take my Japan ease!
I love the maid Anise who clings
So lightly on my Japan knees;
I love the little song she sings,
The little love-song Japanese.
I _almost_ love the lute’s _tink tunkle_
Played by that charming <DW61> Anise--
For am I not her old <DW61> uncle?
And is she not my Japan niece?
THE DIFFERENCE.
In the spring the Leaves come out
And the little Poetlets sprout;
Everywhere they may be seen,
Each as Fresh as each is Green.
Each hangs on through scorch and scoff
Till the fall, when both “come off,”
With this difference, be it said,
That the leaves at least are Red.
[Illustration]
WHY YE BLOSSOME COMETH BEFORE YE LEAFE.
Once hoary Winter chanced--alas!
Alas! hys waye mistaking,
A leafless apple tree to pass
Where Spring lay dreaming. “Fie ye lass!
Ye lass had best be waking,”
Quoth he, and shook hys robe, and lo!
Lo! forth didde flye a cloud of snowe.
Now in ye bough an elfe there dwelte,
An elfe of wondrous powere,
That when ye chillye snowe didde pelte,
With magic charm each flake didde melte,
Didde melte into a flowere;
And Spring didde wake and marvelle how,
How blossomed so ye leafless bough.
[Illustration: The first First of April.]
The Infant Earth one April day
(The first of April--so they say),
| 3,170.759595 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.7404140 | 2,546 | 9 |
Produced by KD Weeks, Suzanne Shell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited as _italic_. Bold font is delimited as =bold=.
Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding
the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=The Island of Fantasy=
A Romance
------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------
By FERGUS HUME
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_Author of “When I Lived In Bohemia,” “The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,”
“The Man Who Vanished,” etc_.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sorrow and weariness,
Heartache and dreariness,
None should endure;
Scale ye the mountain peak,
Vale ’o the fountain seek,
There is the cure.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_R. F. FENNO & COMPANY_
9 and 11 East Sixteenth Street, New York
1905
------------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT, 1892,
BY
UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY
---
[_All rights reserved_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ISLAND OF FANTASY.
------------------------------------
CHAPTER I.
A MIND DISEASED.
Your Eastern drugs, your spices, your perfumes,
Are all in vain;
They cannot snatch my soul from out its glooms,
Nor soothe the brain.
My mind is dark as cycle-sealèd tombs,
And must remain
In darkness till the light of God illumes
Its black inane.
It was eight o’clock on a still summer evening, and, the ladies having
retired, two men were lingering in a pleasant, indolent fashion over
their wine in the dining-room of Roylands Grange. To be exact, only the
elder gentleman was paying any attention to his port, for the young man
who sat at the head of the table stared vaguely on his empty glass, and
at his equally empty plate, as if his thoughts were miles away, which
was precisely the case. Youth was moody, age was cheerful, for, while
the former indulged in a brown study, the latter cracked nuts and sipped
wine, with a just appreciation of the excellence of both. Judging from
this outward aspect of things, there was something wrong with Maurice
Roylands, for if reverend age in the presentable person of Rector
Carriston could be merry, there appeared to be no very feasible reason
why unthinking youth should be so ineffably dreary. Yet woe was writ
largely on the comely face of the moody young man, and he joined but
listlessly in the jocund conversation of his companion, which was
punctuated in a very marked manner by the cracking of filberts.
Outside, a magical twilight brooded over the landscape, and the chill
odors of eve floated from a thousand sleeping flowers into the mellow
atmosphere of the room, which was irradiated by the soft gleam of many
wax candles rising white and slender from amid the pale roses adorning
the dinner-table. All was pleasant, peaceful, and infinitely charming;
yet Maurice Roylands, aged thirty, healthy, wealthy, and not at all
bad-looking, sat moodily frowning at his untasted dessert, as though he
bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.
In truth, Mr. Roylands, with the usual self-worship of latter-day youth,
thought he was being very hardly treated by Destiny, as that
all-powerful goddess had given him everything calculated to make a
mortal happy, save the capability of being happy. This was undeniably
hard, and might be called the very irony of fate, for one might as well
offer a sumptuous banquet to a dyspeptic, as give a man all the means of
enjoyment, without the faculty of taking advantage of such good fortune.
Roylands had considerable artistic power, an income of nearly six
thousand a year, a fine house, friends innumerable—of the summer season
sort; yet he neither cared about nor valued these blessings, for the
simple reason that he was heartily sick of them, one and all. He would
have been happier digging a patch of ground for his daily bread, than
thus idling through life on an independent income, for Ennui, twin
sister of Care, had taken possession of his soul, and in the midst of
all his comforts he was thoroughly unhappy.
The proverb that “The rich are more miserable than the poor,” is but a
trite one on which to preach a sermon, for did not Solomon say all that
there was to be said in the matter? It was an easier task to write a new
play on the theme of Hamlet, than to compose a novel discourse on the
“All is vanity” text; for on some subjects the final word has been said,
and he who preaches thereon says nothing new, but only repeats the ideas
of former orators, who in their turn doubtless reiterated the sayings of
still earlier preachers, and so on back to Father Adam, to whom the wily
serpent possibly delivered a sermon on the cynically wise saying
illustrated so exhaustively by Solomon ben David. Therefore, to remark
that Maurice was miserable amid all his splendors is a plagiarism, and
they who desire to study the original version for themselves must read
Ecclesiastes, which gives a minute analysis of the whole question, with
cruelly true comments thereon.
When Roylands ten years before had gone to London, against the desire of
his father, to take up the profession—if it can be called so—of a
sculptor, he was full of energy and ambition. He had fully determined to
set the Thames on fire by the creation of statues worthy of Canova, to
make a great name in the artistic world, to become a member of the
Academy, to inaugurate a new era in the history of English sculpture;
so, with all this glory before him, he turned his back on the flesh-pots
of Egypt and went to dwell in the land of Bohemia. In order to bring the
lad to his senses, Roylands senior refused to aid him with a shilling
until he gave up the pitiful trade—in this country squire’s opinion—of
chipping figures out of marble. Supplies being thus stopped, Maurice
suffered greatly in those artistic days for lack of an assured income;
yet in spite of all his deprivations, he was very happy in Bohemia until
he lived down his enthusiasms. When matters came to that pass, the wine
of life lost its zest for this young man, and he became a victim to
melancholia, that terrible disease for which there is rarely—if any
cure. He lived because he did not agree with Addison’s Cato regarding
the virtues of self-destruction, but as far as actual dying went it
mattered to him neither one way nor the other. If he had done but little
good during his life, at least he had done but little harm, so, thinking
he could scarcely be punished severely for such a negative existence, he
was quite willing to leave this world he found so dreary, provided the
entrance into the next one was not of too painful a nature.
It is a bad thing for a young man to thus take to the pessimistic school
of philosophy as exemplified by Schopenhauer, as, having nothing to look
back at, nothing to look forward to, and nothing to hold on by, the
scheme of his life falls into a ruinous condition, so, being without the
safety anchor of Hope, he drifts aimlessly through existence, a nuisance
to himself and to every one around him. Maurice, listless and
despairing, did no more work than was absolutely necessary to earn a
bare subsistence, and lived his life in a semi-dreamy, semi-lethargic
condition, with no very distinct idea as to what was to be the ultimate
end of all this dreariness. When night fell he was then more at rest,
for in sleep he found a certain amount of compensation for the woes of
his waking hours. As to his modelling, he took a positive dislike to it,
and for this reason improved but little in his work during the last
years of his Bohemian existence. Profoundly disgusted, without any
positive reason, with himself, his art, the world, and his fellow-men,
heaven only knows what would have become of him, had not an event
happened which, by placing him in a new position, seemed to promise his
redemption from the gloomy prison of melancholia.
The event in question was none other than the death of his father, and
Maurice, as in duty bound, came down to the funeral. When the will of
the late Squire was read, it was discovered that, with the exception of
one or two trifling bequests, all the real and personal property was
left to his only son; thus this fortunate young man at the age of thirty
found himself independent of the world for the rest of his days,
provided always he did not squander his paternal acres, a thing he had
not the slightest intention of doing. Maurice had no leanings towards
what is vulgarly termed a “fast life,” for he detested horse-racing,
cared but little for wine, and neither cards nor women possessed any
fascination for him. Not that he was a model young man by any means, but
his tastes were too refined, his nature too intellectual, to admit of
his finding pleasure in drinking, gaming, and their concomitants. As to
love, he did not know the meaning of the word,—at least not the real
meaning,—which was rather a mistake, as it would certainly have given
him an interest in life, and perhaps have prevented him yielding so
readily to the influence of “black care,” which even the genial Venusian
knew something about, seeing he made her an equestrian.
Of course, he was sorry for the death of his father, but there had been
so little real sympathy between them, that he could not absolutely look
upon the event as an irreparable calamity. Maurice had always loved his
mother more than his father, and when she died as he was leaving home
for college he was indeed inconsolable; but he saw the remains of the
late Mr. Roylands duly committed to the family vault without any violent
display of grief, after which he returned to live the life of a country
gentleman at the Grange, and wonder what would be the upshot of this new
phase of his existence.
Solitude was abhorrent to him, as his thoughts were so miserable;
therefore, for the sake of having some one to drive away the evil
spirit, he invited his aunt, the Hon. Mrs. Dengelton, to stay at the
Grange for a week or so. She came without hesitation, and brought her
daughter Eunice also, upon which Maurice, finding two women more than an
unhappy bachelor could put up with, asked the new poet Crispin, for whom
he had a great liking, to come down to Roylands, which that young man
did very willingly, as he was in love with Eunice, a state of things
half guessed and wholly hated by Mrs. Dengelton, who much desired her
daughter to marry the new Squire.
On this special evening, the Rev. Stephen Carriston, Rector of | 3,170.760454 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.8428080 | 1,254 | 23 |
Produced by K Nordquist, Dave Morgan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
MONEY.
"Gold is a wonderful clearer of the understanding; it dissipates
every doubt and scruple in an instant, accommodates itself to the
meanest capacities, silences the loud and clamorous and brings
over the most obstinate and inflexible. Philip of Macedon refuted
by it all the wisdom of Athens, confounded their statesmen, struck
their orators dumb, and at length argued them out of their
liberties."
--ADDISON.
SPEECH
OF
HON. JOHN P. JONES,
OF NEVADA,
ON THE FREE COINAGE OF SILVER;
IN THE
UNITED STATES SENATE,
MAY 12 AND 13, 1890.
WASHINGTON.
1890.
SPEECH
OF
HON. JOHN P. JONES,
OF NEVADA.
On the bill (S. 2350) authorizing the issue of Treasury notes on
deposits of silver bullion.
Mr. JONES, of Nevada, said:
Mr. PRESIDENT: The question now about to be discussed by this body is in
my judgment the most important that has attracted the attention of
Congress or the country since the formation of the Constitution. It
affects every interest, great and small, from the slightest concern of
the individual to the largest and most comprehensive interest of the
nation.
The measure under consideration was reported by me from the Committee on
Finance. It is hardly necessary for me to say, however, that it does not
fully reflect my individual views regarding the relation which silver
should bear to the monetary circulation of the country or of the world.
I am, at all times and in all places, a firm and unwavering advocate of
the free and unlimited coinage of silver, not merely for the reason that
silver is as ancient and honorable a money metal as gold, and equally
well adapted for the money use, but for the further reason that, looking
at the annual yield from the mines, the entire supply that can come to
the mints will at no time be more than is needed to maintain at a steady
level the prices of commodities among a constantly increasing
population.
In view, however, of the great divergency of views prevailing on the
subject, the length of time which it was believed might be consumed in
the endeavor to secure that full and rightful measure of legislation to
which the people are entitled, and the possibility that this session of
Congress might terminate without affording the country some measure of
substantial relief, I was willing, rather than have the country longer
subjected to the baleful and benumbing influences set in motion by the
demonetization act of 1873, to join with other members of the Finance
Committee in reporting the bill now under consideration.
Under the circumstances I wish at the outset of the discussion to say
that I hold myself free to vote for any amendment that may be offered
that may tend to make the bill a more perfect measure of relief, and
that may be more in consonance with my individual views.
THE CONDITION OF THE COUNTRY.
The condition of this country to-day, Mr. President, is well calculated
to awaken the interest and arouse the attention of thinking men. It can
be safely asserted that no period of the world's history can exhibit a
people at once so numerous and homogeneous, living under one form of
government, speaking a common language, enjoying the same degree of
personal and political liberty, and sharing, in so equal a degree, the
same civilization as the population of the United States. Eminently
practical and ingenious, of indomitable will, untiring energy, and
unfailing hope; favored by nature with a domain of imperial expanse,
with soil and climate of unequaled variety and beneficence, with every
natural condition that can conduce to individual prosperity and national
glory, it might well be expected that among such a people industry,
agriculture, commerce, art, and science would reach an extent and
perfection of development surpassing anything ever known in the history
of mankind.
In some respects this expectation would appear to have been well
founded. For several years past our farmers have produced an annual
average of 400,000,000 bushels of wheat. Our oat crop for 1888 was
700,000,000 bushels, our corn crop 2,000,000,000 bushels, our cotton
crop 7,000,000 bales. In that year our coal mines yielded 170,000,000
tons of coal, our furnaces produced 6,500,000 tons of pig iron and
3,000,000 tons of steel. Our gold and silver mines add more than
$100,000,000 a year to the world's stock of the precious metals. We
print 16,000 newspapers and periodicals, have in operation 154,000 miles
of railroad and 250,000 miles of telegraph. The value of our
manufactured products at the date of the last census was $5,400,000,000.
Our farm lands at the same time were estimated at $10,000,000,000, our
cattle at $2,000,000,000, our railroads at $6,000,000,000, our houses at
$14,000,000,000. It is not too much to say that there has been an
increase of fully 50 per cent. in those values since the taking of the
census of 1880. Our national wealth to-day is reasonably estimated at
over $60,000,000,000.
| 3,170.862848 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.8446510 | 544 | 14 |
Produced by Anne Folland, Jonathan Ingram, Mary Meehan,
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME I (of X)
MORAL TALES
By Maria Edgeworth
PREFACE.
It has been somewhere said by Johnson, that merely to invent a story is
no small effort of the human understanding. How much more difficult is
it to construct stories suited to the early years of youth, and, at
the same time, conformable to the complicate relations of modern
society--fictions, that shall display examples of virtue, without
initiating the young reader into the ways of vice--narratives, written
in a style level to his capacity, without tedious detail, or vulgar
idiom! The author, sensible of these difficulties, solicits indulgence
for such errors as have escaped her vigilance.
In a former work the author has endeavoured to add something to the
increasing stock of innocent amusement and early instruction, which
the laudable exertions of some excellent modern writers provide for the
rising generation; and, in the present, an attempt is made to provide
for young people, of a more advanced age, a few Tales, that shall
neither dissipate the attention, nor inflame the imagination.
In a work upon education, which the public has been pleased to notice,
we have endeavoured to show that, under proper management, amusement and
instruction may accompany each other through many paths of literature;
whilst, at the same time, we have disclaimed and reprehended all
attempts to teach in play. Steady, untired attention is what alone
produces excellence. Sir Isaac Newton, with as much truth as modesty,
attributed to this faculty those discoveries in science, which brought
the heavens within the grasp of man, and weighed the earth in a balance.
To inure the mind to athletic vigour is one of the chief objects of
good education; and we have found, as far as our limited experience has
extended, that short and active exertions, interspersed with frequent
agreeable relaxation, form the mind to strength and endurance, better
than long-continued feeble study.
Hippocrates, in describing the robust temperament, tells us that the
_athletae_ prepare themselves for the _gymnasium_ by strong exertion,
which they continued till they felt fatigue; they then reposed till they
felt returning strength and aptitude for labour: and thus, by alternate
exercise and indulgence, their limbs acquire the firmest | 3,170.864691 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.9343810 | 3,309 | 26 |
Produced by Cindy Horton, Brian Coe, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
book was produced from images made available by the
HathiTrust Digital Library.)
THE JUDGEMENT
OF VALHALLA
BY
GILBERT FRANKAU
NEW YORK
FEDERAL PRINTING COMPANY
1918
Copyright, 1918
GILBERT FRANKAU
_All rights reserved_
The Judgement of Valhalla
BY GILBERT FRANKAU
_THE DESERTER_
“I’m sorry I done it, Major.”
We bandaged the livid face;
And led him out, ere the wan sun rose,
To die his death of disgrace.
The bolt-heads locked to the cartridge;
The rifles steadied to rest,
As cold stock nestled at colder cheek
And foresight lined on the breast.
“_Fire!_” called the Sergeant-Major.
The muzzles flamed as he spoke:
And the shameless soul of a nameless man
Went up in the cordite-smoke.
_THE EYE AND THE TRUTH_
Up from the fret of the earth-world, through the Seven Circles of
Flame,
With the seven holes in Its tunic for sign of the death-in-shame,
To the little gate of Valhalla the coward-spirit came.
Cold, It crouched in the man-strong wind that sweeps Valhalla’s
floor;
Weak, It pawed and scratched on the wood; and howled, like a dog,
at the Door
Which is shut to the souls who are sped in shame, for ever and
evermore:
For It snuffed the Meat of the Banquet-boards where the Threefold
Killers sit,
Where the Free Beer foams to the tankard-rim, and the Endless Smokes
are lit....
And It saw the Nakéd Eye come out above the lintel-slit.
And now It quailed at Nakéd Eye which judges the naked dead;
And now It snarled at Nakéd Truth that broodeth overhead;
And now It looked to the earth below where the gun-flames flickered
red.
It muttered words It had learned on earth, the words of a black-coat
priest
Who had bade It pray to a pulpit god--but ever Eye’s Wrath
increased;
And It knew that Its words were empty words, and It whined like a
homeless beast:
Till, black above the lintel-slit, the Nakéd Eye went out;
Till, loud across the Killer-Feasts, It heard the Killer-Shout--
The three-fold song of them that slew, and died... and had no
doubt.
_THE SONG OF THE RED-EDGED STEEL_
_Below your black priest’s heaven,
Above his tinselled hell,
Beyond the Circles Seven,
The Red-Steel Killers dwell--
The men who drave, to blade-ring home, behind the marching shell._
We knew not good nor evil,
Save only right of blade;
Yet neither god nor devil
Could hold us from our trade,
When once we watched the barrage lift, and splendidly afraid
Came scrambling out of cover,
And staggered up the hill....
The bullets whistled over;
Our sudden dead lay still;
And the mad machine-gun chatter drove us fighting-wild to kill.
Then the death-light lit our faces,
And the death-mist floated red
O’er the crimson cratered places
Where his outposts crouched in dread....
And we stabbed or clubbed them as they crouched; and shot them as
they fled;
And floundered, torn and bleeding,
Over trenches, through the wire,
With the shrapnel-barrage leading
To the prey of our desire--
To the men who rose to meet us from the blood-soaked battle-mire;
Met them; gave and asked no quarter;
But, where we saw the Gray,
Plunged the edged steel of slaughter,
Stabbed home, and wrenched away....
Till red wrists tired of killing-work, and none were left to slay.
Now--while his fresh battalions
Moved up to the attack--
Screaming like angry stallions,
His shells came charging back,
And stamped the ground with thunder-hooves and pawed it
spouting-black
And breathed down poison-stenches
Upon us, leaping past....
Panting, we turned his trenches;
And heard--each time we cast
From parapet to parados--the scything bullet-blast.
Till the whistle told his coming;
Till we flung away the pick,
Heard our Lewis guns’ crazed drumming,
Grabbed our rifles, sighted quick,
Fired... and watched his wounded writhing back from where his dead
lay thick.
So we laboured--while we lasted:
Soaked in rain or parched in sun;
Bullet-riddled; fire-blasted;
Poisoned: fodder for the gun:
So we perished, and our bodies rotted in the ground they won.
It heard the song of the First of the Dead, as It couched by the
lintel-post;
And the coward-soul would have given Its soul to be back with the
Red-Steel host....
But Eye peered down; and It quailed at the Eye; and Nakéd Truth
said: “Lost.”
And Eye went out. But It might not move; for, droned in the dark, It
heard
The Second Song of the Killer-men--word upon awful word
Cleaving the void with a shrill, keen sound like the wings of a
pouncing bird.
_THE SONG OF THE CRASHING WING_
_Higher than tinselled heaven,
Lower than angels dare,
Loop to the fray, swoop on their prey,
The Killers of the Air._
We scorned the Galilean,
We mocked at Kingdom-Come:
The old gods knew our pæan--
Our dawn-loud engine-hum:
The old red gods of slaughter,
The gods before the Jew!
We heard their cruel laughter,
Shrill round us, as we flew:
When, deaf to earth and pity,
Blind to the guns beneath,
We loosed upon the city
Our downward-plunging death.
The Sun-God watched our flighting;
No Christian priest could tame
Our deathly stuttered fighting:--
The whirled drum, spitting flame;
The roar, of blades behind her;
The banking plane up-tossed;
The swerve that sought to blind her;
Masked faces, glimpsed and lost;
The joy-stick wrenched to guide her;
The swift and saving zoom,
What time the shape beside her
Went spinning to its doom.
No angel-wings might follow
Where, poised behind the fray,
We spied our Lord Apollo
Stoop down to mark his prey--
The hidden counter-forces;
The guns upon the road;
The tethered transport-horses,
Stampeding, as we showed--
Dun hawks of death, loud-roaring--
A moment to their eyes:
And slew; and passed far-soaring;
And dwindled up the skies.
But e’en Apollo’s pinions
Had faltered where we ran,
Low through his veiled dominions,
To lead the charging van!
The tree-tops slathered under;
The Red-Steel Killers knew,
Hard overhead, the thunder
And backwash of her screw;
The blurred clouds raced above her;
The blurred fields streaked below,
Where waited, crouched to cover,
The foremost of our foe;
Banking, we saw his furrows
Leap at us, open wide:
Hell-raked the man-packed burrows;
And crashed--and crashing, died.
It heard the song of the Dead in Air, as It huddled against the
gate;
And once again the Eye peered down--red-rimmed with scorn and hate
For the shameless soul of the nameless one who had neither foe nor
mate.
And Eye was shut. But Nakéd Truth bent down to mock the Thing:--
“Thou hast heard the Song of the Red-edged Steel, and the Song of
the Crashing Wing:
Shall the word of a black-coat priest avail at Valhalla’s
harvesting?
Shalt _thou_ pass free to the Seven Halls--whose life in shame was
sped?”
And Truth was dumb. But the brooding word still echoed overhead,
As roaring down the void outburst the last loud song of the dead.
_THE SONG OF THE GUNNER-DEAD_
_In Thor’s own red Valhalla,
Which priest may not unbar;
But only Nakéd Truth and Eye,
Last arbiters of War;
Feast, by stark right of courage,
The Killers from Afar._
We put no trust in heaven,
We had no fear of hell;
But lined, and ranged, and timed to clock,
Our barrage-curtains fell,
When guns gave tongue and breech-blocks swung
And palms rammed home the shell.
The Red-Steel ranks edged forward,
And vanished in our smoke;
Back from his churning craters,
The Gray Man reeled and broke;
While, fast as sweat could lay and set,
Our rocking muzzles spoke.
We blew him from the village;
We chased him through the wood:
Till, tiny on the crest-line
Where once his trenches stood,
We watched the wag of sending flag
That told our work was good:
Till, red behind the branches,
The death-sun sank to blood;
And the Red-Steel Killers rested....
But we, by swamp and flood,
Through mirk and night--his shells for light--
Blaspheming, choked with mud,
Roped to the tilting axles,
Man-handled up the crest;
And wrenched our plunging gun-teams
Foam-flecked from jowl to breast,
Downwards, and on, where trench-lights shone--
For _we_, we might not rest!
Shell-deafened; soaked and sleepless;
Short-handed; under fire;
Days upon nights unending,
We wrought, and dared not tire--
With whip and bit from dump to pit,
From pit to trench with wire.
The Killers in the Open,
The Killers down the Wind,
They saw the Gray Man eye to eye--
But _we_, we fought him blind,
Nor knew whence came the screaming flame
That killed us, miles behind.
Yet, when the triple rockets
Flew skyward, blazed and paled,
For sign the lines were broken;
When the Red Steel naught availed;
When, through the smoke, on shield and spoke
His rifle bullets hailed;
When we waited, dazed and hopeless,
Till the layer’s eye could trace
Helmets, bobbing just above us
Like mad jockeys in a race....
Then--loaded, laid, and unafraid,
We met him face to face;
Jerked the trigger; felt the trunnions
Rock and quiver; saw the flail
Of our zero-fuses blast him;
Saw his gapping ranks turn tail;
Heard the charging-cheer behind us...
And dropped dead across the trail.
_VALHALLA’S VERDICT_
It heard the Song of the Gunner-Dead die out to a sullen roar:
But Nakéd Truth said never a word; and Eye peered down no more.
For Eye had seen; and Truth had judged... and It might not pass
the Door!
And now, like a dog in the dark, It shrank from the voice of a man
It knew:--
“There are empty seats at the Banquet-board, but there’s never a
seat for you;
For they will not drink with a coward soul, the stark red men who
slew.
There’s meat and to spare, at the Killer-Feasts where Thor’s swung
hammer twirls;
There’s beer and enough, in the Free Canteen where the Endless Smoke
upcurls;
There are lips and lips, for the Killer-Men, in the Hall of the
Dancing-Girls.
There’s a place for any that passes clean--but for you there’s never
a place:
The Endless Smoke would blacken your lips, and the Girls would spit
in your face;
And the Beer and the Meat go sour on your guts--for you died the
death of disgrace.
We were pals on earth: but by God’s brave Son and the bomb that I
reached too late,
I damn the day and I blast the hour when first I called you mate;
And I’d sell my soul for one of my feet, to hack you from the gate--
To hack you hence to the lukewarm hells that the priest-made ovens
heat,
Or the faked-pearl heaven of pulpit gods, where the sheep-faced
angels bleat
And the halo’s rim is as hard to the head as the gilded floor to
the feet.”
* * * * *
It heard the stumps of Its one-time mate go waddling back to the
Feast.
And, once and again, It whined for the Meat; ere It slunk, like a
tongue-lashed beast,
To the tinselled heaven of pulpit gods and the tinselled hell of
their priest.
Aimée
_WIFE AND COUNTRY_
Dear, let me thank you for this:
That you made me remember, in fight,
England--all mine at your kiss,
At the touch of your hands in the night:
England--your giving’s delight.
_MOTHER AND MATE_
Lightly she slept, that splendid mother mine
Who faced death, undismayed, two hopeless years....
(“Think of me sometimes, son, but not with tears
Lest my soul grieve,” she writes. Oh, this divine
Unselfishness!)...
Her favourite print smiled down--
The stippled Cupid, Bartolozzi-brown--
Upon my sorrow. Fire-gleams, fitful, played
Among her playthings--Toby mugs and jade....
And then I dreamed that--suddenly, strangely clear--
A voice I knew not, faltered at my ear:
“Courage!”... Your own dear voice, loved since, and known!
| 3,170.954421 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.9403970 | 3,435 | 82 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Paul Marshall and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
book was produced from images made available by the
HathiTrust Digital Library.)
Transcriber's Notes:
Underscores "_" before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_
in the original text.
Equal signs "=" before and after a word or phrase indicate =bold=
in the original text.
Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals.
Illustrations have been moved so they do not break up paragraphs.
Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations
in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.
Vol. I. JULY, 1892 No. 1.
THE KANSAS UNIVERSITY QUARTERLY
COMMITTEE OF PUBLICATION
E. H. S. BAILEY F. W. BLACKMAR
W. H. CARRUTH C. G. DUNLAP
E. MILLER S. W. WILLISTON
V. L. KELLOGG, _Managing Editor_
CONTENTS
KANSAS PTERODACTYLS, PART I. _S. W. Williston_
KANSAS MOSASAURS, PART I. _S. W. Williston and E. C. Case_
NOTES AND DESCRIPTIONS OF SYRPHIDAE, _W. A. Snow_
NOTES ON MELITERA DENTATA GROTE, _V. L. Kellogg_
DIPTERA BRASILIANA, PART II. _S. W. Williston_
PUBLISHED BY THE UNIVERSITY
LAWRENCE, KANSAS
_Price of this number, 50 cents_
Entered at the Post-office in Lawrence as Second-class matter
JOURNAL PUBLISHING HOUSE,
LAWRENCE, KANSAS.
1892.
KANSAS PTERODACTYLS.
BY S. W. WILLISTON.
PART I, WITH PLATE I.
The first American species of the singular group of extinct Mesozoic
reptiles variously know as Ornithosaurs, Pterosaurs or Pterodactyls was
described by Marsh from a fragmentary specimen obtained in 1870, by the
Yale College Expedition in Wallace County, Kansas. About a dozen other
specimens were obtained by a similar expedition the following year in
charge of Professor Marsh, or by Professor Cope, and were described by
these authors shortly afterward. By far the largest number of known
specimens, however, other than those in the Kansas University Museum,
were obtained during the years 1874, ’75, ’76 and ’77 by parties of
which Professor Mudge, Dr. H. A. Brous, E. W. Guild, George Cooper and
myself were the members, and it was from these specimens that most
of the published characters were derived. Many of these specimens
are necessarily fragmentary ones, still the material now in the Yale
College Museum is ample to elucidate everything of interest concerning
these animals.
During the past few years, the Museum of Kansas University has been
enriched by a series of excellent specimens of these animals, obtained
from the same regions, specimens that permit the solution of most of
the doubtful characters and throw not a little light on the affinities
of the Kansas forms.
The species hitherto named are as follows:
PTERANODON.
_Pteranodon_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xi, p. 508,
June 1876; and xii, p. 479, Dec. 1876; xxiii, p. 253,
April, 1882; xxvii, p. 423, May, 1881; Williston,
Amer. Naturalist, xxv, p. 1174, Dec. 1891
=Pteranodon occidentalis.=
_Pterodactylus Oweni_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. i, p.
472, June 1871, Sep. p. 16 (nom. preoc).
_Pterodactylus occidentalis_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci.
iii, p. 242, April 1872, Sep. p. 1; Cope, Cretac.
Vert. p. 68, pl. vii, ff. 5, 6.
_Ornithocheirus harpyia_ Cope, Proc. Amer. Phil. Soc.
1872, p. 471 (Cope).
This species was originally based upon the distal end of two
wing-metacarpals, and teeth. In the following year, a fuller
description was given of additional remains referred to the same
species and renamed _P. occidentalis_.
=Pteranodon ingens.=
_Pterodactylus ingens_ Marsh, Amer. Journ Sci. iii, p.
246, April 1872, Sep. p. 6.
_Pteranodon ingens_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xi, p.
508, June 1876.
This species is based upon various bones of the wing-finger of several
individuals, and three teeth.
=Pteranodon umbrosus.=
_Ornithocheirus umbrosus_ Cope, Proc. Amer. Phil. Soc.
1872, p. 471.
_Pterodactylus umbrosus_ Cope, Cret. Vert. p. 65, pl.
vii, ff. 1-4.
Marsh (Amer. Journ. Sci. xii, p. 480, Dec. 1876) says this name is a
synonym of _P. ingens_, published two days earlier. As this synonymy is
not certain, and as Cope’s species has been figured, I am not ready to
accept his views.
=Pteranodon velox.=
_Pterodactylus velox_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. iii, p.
247, April 1872, Sep. p. 8.
Based upon the distal end of the right metacarpal of the wing-finger,
and the proximal extremity of the adjoining first phalanx, two
uncharacteristic parts of the skeleton, Marsh to the contrary
notwithstanding. It is doubtful whether the direct comparison of the
types will suffice to determine the species with certainty. “Both of
the bones are somewhat distorted by pressure.”
=Pteranodon longiceps.=
_Pteranodon longiceps_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xi,
p. 508, June 1875; xxvii, p. 424, pl. xv, May 1884.
Based upon a somewhat defective skull, without other bones.
There is no evidence whatever that the species is distinct from the
preceding.
=Pteranodon comptus.=
_Pteranodon comptus_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xi, p.
509, June 1876.
Based upon wing-bones of three individuals. The description is meagre.
=Pteranodon nanus.=
_Pteranodon nanus_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xxi, p.
343, April 1881.
Based upon various remains of one individual; the humerus, alone, is
recognizably described.
NYCTODACTYLUS.
_Nyctosaurus_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xii, p. 480, Dec. 1876. (nomen
preoc.[1]).
_Nyctodactylus_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xxi, p. 343, April 1881: ibid.
xxvii, p. 423, May 1884.
[1] This preoccupation rests, so far as I am aware, upon Marsh’s
statement. I can find no evidence of the name having been previously
used.
=Nyctodactylus gracilis.=
_Pteranodon gracilis_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xi, p.
508, June 1876.
_Nyctosaurus gracilis_ Marsh, Amer. Journ. Sci. xii,
p. 480, Dec. 1876.
_Nyctodactylus gracilis_ Marsh, Amer. Jour. Sci. xxi,
p. 343, April 1881.
PTERANODON.
=Skull.=
Fragmentary portions of the skull of Pteranodon are not at all rare
in the Kansas chalk; but it is exceedingly seldom that a complete,
or even approximately complete specimen is found. Their great length
and slenderness, together with the extensive pneumaticity of the
bones, render their preservation, as a whole, a thing of great rarity.
Probably the most nearly perfect one yet known is now in the Museum
of Kansas University. It was discovered the past summer by Mr. E. C.
Case, a member of the University Geological Expedition. The specimen
was carefully cleaned on its upper surface, as it lay in the chalk, and
then imbedded in plaster before removal. The surface now exposed was
the under one, which surface is, almost invariably, better preserved
and less distorted than the upper one in these animals. A figure of
this specimen is given in Plate I. The only portion restored is that
indicated by the line in the lower jaw; it is possible that this part
of the symphysis may not be exactly as it is drawn. Other, incomplete,
specimens in the Museum confirm the outlines, except in the occipital
crest, which is not present. As stated by me in the American Naturalist
(_l. c._), the type specimen of _Pteranodon_, also collected by myself,
was incomplete, and the figures of it, as given by Marsh, are faulty.
The elements of the skull are all so firmly united that they can
not be distinguished. There are no indications whatever of a horny
sheath enclosing the jaw, and it is improbable that the covering of
these parts was essentially different from that in the slender jawed
_Pterodactylidae_. In texture, the maxillaries are fine-grained, and
wholly without the vascular foramina found in the corresponding bones
of birds. The bones are composed of two thin and firm plates, separated
by cavities which are bounded by irregular walls of bony tissue. In the
compression from which all the Pterodactyl bones have suffered more or
less, the greater resistance of these walls has caused irregularities
upon both the outer and the inner surfaces. At the borders of the
bones, where the thickness has been greater, the roughening is not
observed.
Seen from above, the skull is narrow, as stated by Marsh; but, contrary
to his statement, there is not a sharp ridge extending along the
upper border. This border is obtuse and rounded, and in the frontal
region, flattened. The sagittal crest is large, but not nearly so
large as it is figured by Marsh, the restored outline of whose figure
is undoubtedly wrong. The texture of the bone forming the crest is
materially different from that of the remaining bones of the skull.
The bone is more roughened, and less firm. There is a well-developed
ring of sclerotic ossifications. In the specimen figured, the separate
plates measure from six to eight millimeters in diameter. They were
not imbricated, as in the Pythonomorpha, but have a similar dense
texture. There is a superior temporal arch, bridging over a small
opening leading downward to the inferior temporal fossa. The following
measurements will give the principal dimensions of this specimen.
Length from tip of premaxillary to occipital condyle 680 millim.
Extreme length of skull 780
Extent of crest beyond orbit 145
Greatest diameter of orbit 65
Antero-posterior diameter of nasal opening 135
Length of quadrate 120
Width of lower jaw at articulation 22
=Pubis.=
In a previous paper on the anatomy of _Pteranodon_,[2] I stated that
I had never seen the so-called “prepubic bones.” Since that time,
however, an excellent specimen of them has been discovered among
our material. The specimen of which they are a part consists of the
larger portion of the skeleton, and is perhaps conspecific with the
one to which the described pelvis belongs. The figure given herewith
will convey a good idea of their shape. The bones of the two sides
are firmly co-ossified, and have been pressed nearly flat; the figure
represents them as they are spread out in one plane. The bone is
very thin throughout, with a slight thickening at the ischial (_a_)
attachment only. Lying contiguous with the anterior projection, is a
slender ventral rib (_b_). It is possible that the curvature of this
bone may be inward, rather than outward.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
[2] Amer. Naturalist, Dec. 1891, p. 1124. In this article the
description of the foot-phalanges should read: “All are slender, except
the second one in the third toe, and the second and third in the fourth
toe, where they are scarcely longer than wide.”
This peculiar structure of the pubis (I believe it represents the
pubis, and not the prepubis), seems to be quite similar to that
which obtains in the genus _Rhamphorhynchus_, and, perhaps also, in
_Pterodactylus suevicus_ (_Cycnorhamphus_ Seeley), and very different
from that found in other species of _Pterodactylus_.
The principal measurements of the above described specimen are as
follows:
Antero-posterior expansion 40 millim.
Length of symphysis 14
Expanse of the united bones, as flattened 90
Width of ischial process 11
NYCTODACTYLUS.
The type species of this genus was described as follows by its author
(loc. cit. supra):
“One of the smallest American species yet found is
represented in the Yale Museum by several bones of the
wing, a number of vertebrae and the nearly complete
pelvis. The wing-bones preserved are elongated and very
slender. The pelvis is unusually small, and there are five
vertebrae in the sacrum. The last of the series indicates
that the tail was short. The following are the principal
measurements of this specimen:
Length of ulna 187 millim.
Length of metacarpal of wing-finger 300
Antero-posterior diameter of outer condyle at distal end 15
Transverse diameter of shaft, above condyles 13
Length of first phalanx of wing-finger 347
Extent of five vertebrae of sacrum 57
This species, which may be called _Pteranodon gracilis_, was about
two-thirds the size of _P. velox_ Marsh. It probably measured about ten
feet between the tips of the expanded wings.”
In the December number of the same volume of the American Journal of
Science, he described the genus as follows:
“A second genus of American Pterodactyls is represented
in the Yale Museum by | 3,170.960437 |
2023-11-16 19:09:54.9404810 | 1,255 | 23 |
Produced by Craig Kirkwood, Demian Katz and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images
courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University
(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/))
Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
HOW TO TELL FORTUNES
CONTAINING Napoleon’s Oraculum, and the Key to Work It
ALSO Tells Fortunes by Cards, LUCKY AND UNLUCKY DAYS, SIGNS AND OMENS.
* * * * *
COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY
FRANK TOUSEY, PUBLISHER
168 West 23d St., New York City
HOW TO TELL FORTUNES BY CARDS.
In telling Fortunes by Cards--as in all games in which they are
employed--the Ace ranks highest in value. Then comes the King, followed
by the Queen, Knave, Ten, Nine, Eight, and Seven; these being generally
the only cards used.
The order, and comparative value of the different suits, is as
follows:--First on the list stand “Clubs,” as they mostly portend
happiness; and--no matter how numerous, or how accompanied--are rarely
or never of bad augury. Next come “Hearts,” which usually signify joy,
liberality, or good temper; “Diamonds,” on the contrary, denote delay,
quarrels, and annoyance; and “Spades”--the worst suit of all--grief,
sickness, and loss of money.
We are of course speaking generally, as, in many cases, the position
of cards entirely changes their signification; their individual and
relative meaning being often widely different. Thus, for example, the
King of Hearts, the Nine of Hearts, and the Nine of Clubs, respectively
signify, a liberal man, joy, and success in love, but change their
position, by placing the King _between_ the two nines, and you would
read that a man, then rich and happy, would be ere long consigned to a
prison!
SIGNIFICATION OF THE CARDS.
The individual meaning attached to the thirty-two cards employed is as
follows:--
THE EIGHT CLUBS.
_Ace of Clubs._--Signifies joy, money, or good news; if reversed, the
joy will be of brief duration.
_King of Clubs._--A frank, liberal man, fond of serving his friends; if
reversed, he will meet with a disappointment.
_Queen of Clubs._--An affectionate woman, but quick-tempered and
touchy; if reversed, jealous and malicious.
_Knave of Clubs._--A clever and enterprising young man; reversed, a
harmless flirt and flatterer.
_Ten of Clubs._--Fortune, success, or grandeur; reversed, want of
success in some small matter.
_Nine of Clubs._--Unexpected gain, or a legacy; reversed, some trifling
present.
_Eight of Clubs._--A dark person’s affections, which, if returned,
will be the cause of great prosperity; reversed, those of a fool, and
attendant unhappiness, if reciprocated.
_Seven of Clubs._--A small sum of money, or unexpectedly recovered
debt; reversed, a yet smaller amount.
THE EIGHT HEARTS.
_Ace of Hearts._--A love-letter, or some pleasant news; reversed, a
friend’s visit.
_King of Hearts._--A fair, liberal man; reversed, will meet with
disappointment.
_Queen of Hearts._--A mild, amiable woman; reversed, has been crossed
in love.
_Knave of Hearts._--A gay young bachelor, who dreams only of pleasure;
reversed, a discontented military man.
_Ten of Hearts._--Happiness, triumph; if reversed, some slight anxiety.
_Nine of Hearts._--Joy, satisfaction, success; reversed, a passing
chagrin.
_Eight of Hearts._--A fair person’s affections; reversed, indifference
on his or her part.
_Seven of Hearts._--Pleasant thoughts, tranquillity; reversed, ennui,
weariness.
THE EIGHT DIAMONDS.
_Ace of Diamonds._--A letter, soon to be received; and, if the card be
reversed, containing bad news.
_King of Diamonds._--A fair man--generally in the army--but both
cunning and dangerous; if reversed, a threatened danger, caused by
machinations on his part.
_Queen of Diamonds._--An ill-bred, scandal-loving woman; if reversed,
she is to be greatly feared.
_Knave of Diamonds._--A tale-bearing servant, or unfaithful friend; if
reversed, will be the cause of mischief.
_Ten of Diamonds._--Journey, or change of residence; if reversed, it
will not prove fortunate.
_Nine of Diamonds._--Annoyance, delay; if reversed, either a family or
a love quarrel.
_Eight of Diamonds._--Love-making; if reversed, unsuccessful.
_Seven of Diamonds._--Satire, mockery; reversed, a foolish scandal.
N. B.--In order to know whether the Ace, Ten, Nine, Eight and Seven
of Diamonds are reversed, it is better to make a small pencil-mark on
each, to show which is the top of the card.
THE EIGHT SPADES.
_Ace of Spades._--Pleasure; reversed, grief, bad news.
_King of Spades._--The envious man, an enemy, or a dishonest lawyer,
who is to be feared; reversed, impotent | 3,170.960521 |
2023-11-16 19:09:55.0350240 | 995 | 118 |
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)
ANNO DOMINI 2000;
OR,
_WOMAN'S DESTINY_.
BY
SIR JULIUS VOGEL, K.C.M.G.
LONDON:
HUTCHINSON AND CO.,
25, PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
1889.
Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
Dedicated
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE EARL OF CARNARVON,
WHO, BY HIS SUCCESSFUL EFFORTS TO CONSOLIDATE
THE CANADIAN DOMINIONS, HAS
GREATLY AIDED THE CAUSE
OF FEDERATION.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PROLOGUE 3
CHAPTER I.
THE YEAR 2000--UNITED BRITAIN 27
CHAPTER II.
THE EMPEROR AND HILDA FITZHERBERT 59
CHAPTER III.
LORD REGINALD PARAMATTA 67
CHAPTER IV.
A PARTIAL VICTORY 83
CHAPTER V.
CABINET NEGOTIATIONS 99
CHAPTER VI.
BAFFLED REVENGE 119
CHAPTER VII.
HEROINE WORSHIP 165
CHAPTER VIII.
AIR-CRUISERS 177
CHAPTER IX.
TOO STRANGE NOT TO BE TRUE 193
CHAPTER X.
LORD REGINALD AGAIN 215
CHAPTER XI.
GRATEFUL IRELAND 233
CHAPTER XII.
THE EMPEROR PLANS A CAMPAIGN 251
CHAPTER XIII.
LOVE AND WAR 261
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FOURTH OF JULY RETRIEVED 287
CHAPTER XV.
CONCLUSION 295
EPILOGUE 309
PROLOGUE.
A.D. 1920.
George Claude Sonsius in his early youth appeared to have before him a
fair, prosperous future. His father and mother were of good family, but
neither of them inherited wealth. When young Sonsius finished his
university career, the small fortune which his father possessed was
swept away by the failure of a large banking company. All that remained
from the wreck was a trifling annuity payable during the lives of his
father and mother, and this they did not live long to enjoy. They died
within a year of each other, but they had been able to obtain for their
son a fairly good position in a large mercantile house as foreign
correspondent. At twenty-five the young man married; and three years
afterwards he unfortunately met with a serious accident, that made him
for two years a helpless invalid and at the end of the time left him
with his right hand incapable of use. Meanwhile his appointment had
lapsed, his wife's small fortune had disappeared, and during several
years his existence had been one continual struggle with ever-increasing
want and penury. The end was approaching. The father and mother and
their one crippled son, twelve years old, dwelt in the miserable attic
of a most dilapidated house in one of the poorest neighbourhoods of
London. The roof over their heads did not even protect them from the
weather. The room was denuded of every article of furniture with the
exception of two worthless wooden cases and a horsehair mattress on
which the unhappy boy stretched his pain-wrung limbs.
Early in life this child suffered only from weakness of the spine, but
his parents could afford no prolonged remedial measures. Not that they
were unkind to him. On the contrary, they devoted to him every minute
they could spare, and lavished on him all the attention that affection
comparatively powerless from want of means could dictate. But the food
they were able to give him was scant instead of, as his condition
demanded, varied and nutritious. At length chronic disease of the spine
set in, and his life became one long misery.
Parochial aid was refused unless they would go into the poor-house, but
the one thing Mrs. Sonsius could not bring herself to endure was the
separation from her son which was demanded of her as a condition of
relief.
For thirty hours they had been without food, when the father, maddened
by the moanings of his wife and child, rushed into the street, and
passing a baker's shop which appeared to be empty, stole from it a loaf
of bread. The proprietor, however, saw the action from an inner room. He
caught Sons | 3,171.055064 |
Subsets and Splits
No saved queries yet
Save your SQL queries to embed, download, and access them later. Queries will appear here once saved.