TIMESTAMP
stringlengths 27
27
| ContextTokens
int64 2
14.1k
| GeneratedTokens
int64 7
1k
| text
stringlengths 4
63.2k
| time_delta
float64 0
3.5k
| idx
int64 0
19.4k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
2023-11-16 18:21:42.3633850
| 1,015 | 399 |
Produced by RichardW and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by the Library of Congress)
HOCUS POCUS; OR THE WHOLE ART OF LEGERDEMAIN, IN PERFECTION. BY HENRY
DEAN.
[Illustration:
Strange feats are herein taught by slight of hand,
With which you may amuse yourself and friend,
The like in print was never seen before,
And so you’ll say when once you’ve read it o’er.
]
HOCUS POCUS;
OR THE WHOLE ART OF
_LEGERDEMAIN_,
IN PERFECTION.
By which the meaneſt capacity may perform the
whole without the help of a teacher.
_Together with the Uſe of all the Inſtruments_
_belonging thereto._
TO WHICH IS NOW ADDED,
Abundance of New and Rare Inventions.
BY HENRY DEAN.
_The ELEVENTH EDITION, with large_
_Additions and Amendments._
PHILADELPHIA:
PRINTED FOR MATHEW CAREY, NO. 118,
MARKET-STREET.
1795.
THE PREFACE TO THE READER.
KIND READER,
Having _in my former_ book _of_ LEGERDEMAIN, _promiſed you farther
improvements, accordingly I have diſcovered herein to you the greateſt
and moſt wonderful ſecrets of this_ ART, _never written or publiſhed
by any man before: therefore I do not doubt but herein you will find
pleaſure to your full ſatisfaction; which is all my deſire_.
HENRY DEAN.
The Whole ART of LEGERDEMAIN; OR, HOCUS POCUS IN PERFECTION, &c.
Legerdemain is an operation whereby one may seem to work wonderful,
impossible, and incredible things, by agility, nimbleness, and slight
of hand. The parts of this ingenious art, are principally four.
First, In conveyance of balls.
Secondly, In conveyance of money.
Thirdly, In cards,
Fourthly, In confederacy.
_A Description of the Operation._
1. He must be one of a bold and undaunted resolution, so as to set a
good face upon the matter.
2. He must have strange terms, and emphatical words, to grace and adorn
his actions; and the more to amaze and astonish the beholders.
3. And lastly, He must use such gestures of body, as may take off the
spectators eyes from a strict and diligent beholding his manner of
performance.
_How to pass the Balls through the Cups._
You must place yourself at the farther end of the table, and then you
must provide yourself three cups, made of tin, and then you must have
your black sticks of magic to shew your wonders withal; then you must
provide four small cork balls to play with; but do not let more than
three of them be seen upon the table.
Note. Always conceal one ball in the right hand, between your middle
finger and ring finger: and be sure make yourself perfect to hold it
there, for, by this means, all the tricks of the cups are done.
Then say as followeth.
_Gentlemen, three cups—’tis true_
_They are but tin, the reason why,_
_Silver is something dear._
_I’ll turn them in gold, if I live, &c._
_No equivocation at all:_
_But if your eyes are not as quick as my hands_
_I shall deceive you all._
_View them within,_
_View them all round about,_
_Where there is nothing in,_
_There’s nothing can come out._
Then take your four balls privately between your fingers, and so sling
one of them upon the table, and say thus,
_The first trick that e’er learn’d to do,_
_Was, out of one ball to make it into two:_
_Ah! since it cannot better be,_
_One of these two, I’ll divide them into three,_
_Which is call’d the first trick of dexterity._
So then you have three balls on the table to play with, and one left
between the fingers of your right hand.
_The Operation of the Cups is thus._
[Illustration]
Lay your three balls on the table, then say, Gentlemen, you see here
are three balls, and here are three cups, that is, a cup for each ball,
and a ball for each cup. Then, taking that ball that you had in your
| 355.682795 | 1,700 |
2023-11-16 18:21:42.4784370
| 1,312 | 175 |
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 BOOK OF THE LADIES
[Illustration: MESSIRE PIERRE DE BOURDEILLE
SEIGNEUR DE BRANTOME.]
_The Reign and Amours of the
Bourbon Régime_
A Brilliant Description of
the Courts of Louis XVI,
Amours, Debauchery, Intrigues,
and State Secrets, including
Suppressed and Confiscated MSS.
[Illustration]
The Book of the
Illustrious Dames
BY
PIERRE DE BOURDEÏLLE, ABBÉ DE BRANTÔME
WITH INTRODUCTORY ESSAY BY
C.-A. SAINTE-BEUVE
_Unexpurgated Rendition into English_
PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR MEMBERS OF THE
VERSAILLES HISTORICAL SOCIETY
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1899.
BY H. P. & CO.
_All Rights Reserved._
Édition de Luxe
_This edition is limited to two
hundred copies, of which this
is Number_.............
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
DISCOURSE I. ANNE DE BRETAGNE, Queen of France 25
_Sainte-Beuve’s remarks upon her_ 40
DISCOURSE II. CATHERINE DE’ MEDICI, Queen, and mother of
our last kings 44
_Sainte-Beuve’s remarks upon her_ 85
DISCOURSE III. MARIE STUART, Queen of Scotland, formerly
Queen of our France 89
_Sainte-Beuve’s essay on her_ 121
DISCOURSE IV. ÉLISABETH OF FRANCE, Queen of Spain 138
DISCOURSE V. MARGUERITE, Queen of France and of Navarre,
sole daughter now remaining of the Noble House of France 152
_Sainte-Beuve’s essay on her_ 193
DISCOURSE VI. MESDAMES, the Daughters of the Noble House
of France:
Madame Yoland 214
Madame Jeanne 215
Madame Anne 216
Madame Claude 219
Madame Renée 220
Mesdames Charlotte, Louise, Magdelaine, Marguerite 223
Mesdames Élisabeth, Claude, and Marguerite 229
Madame Diane 231
MARGUERITE DE VALOIS, Queen of Navarre 234
_Sainte-Beuve’s essay on the latter_ 243
DISCOURSE VII. OF VARIOUS ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES:
Isabelle d’Autriche, wife of Charles IX 262
Jeanne d’Autriche, wife of the Infante of Portugal 270
Marie d’Autriche, wife of the King of Hungary 273
Louise de Lorraine, wife of Henri III 280
Marguerite de Lorraine, wife of the Duc de Joyeuse 282
Christine of Denmark, wife of the Duc de Lorraine 283
Marie d’Autriche, wife of the Emperor Maximilian II 291
Blanche de Montferrat, Duchesse de Savoie 293
Catherine de Clèves, wife of Henri I. de Lorraine, Duc de Guise 297
Madame de Bourdeille 297
APPENDIX 299
INDEX 305
LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS.
PIERRE DE BOURDEILLE, ABBÉ AND SEIGNEUR DE BRANTÔME _Frontispiece_
From an old engraving by I. Von Schley.
PAGE
FRANÇOIS DE LORRAINE, DUC DE GUISE 8
By François Clouet; in the Louvre.
DISCOURSE
I. TOMB OF LOUIS XII. AND ANNE DE BRETAGNE 34
By Jean Juste, in the Cathedral of Saint-Denis. The king and
queen are carved as skeletons within the twelve columns;
above they kneel at their prie-dieus, and the tradition is
that the portraits are faithful. The cardinal virtues, Justice,
Prudence, Temperance, and Fortitude, sit at the corners of
the monument: the twelve apostles between the pillars; and
round the base, between the virtues, are exquisite representations
(not visible in the reproduction) of the king’s campaigns in Italy.
II. CATHERINE DE’ MEDICI, QUEEN OF FRANCE 44
School of the sixteenth century; in the Louvre.
II. HENRI II., KING OF FRANCE 52
By François Clouet; in the Louvre.
II. BALL AT THE COURT OF HENRI III., WITH PORTRAITS 81
Attributed to François Clouet; in the Louvre. See description
in note to Discourse VII.
III. MARIE STUART, QUEEN OF FRANCE AND SCOTLAND 90
Painter unknown; in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
III. THE SAME 120
School of the sixteenth century; Versailles.
V. HENRI IV., KING OF FRANCE 166
By Franz Pourbus (le jeune); in the Louvre.
V. ÉLISABETH DE FRANCE, QUEEN OF SPAIN 185
By Rubens; in the Louvre.
V. CORONATION OF MARIE DE’ MEDICI, WITH PORTRAITS 211
By Rubens (Peter Paul); in the Louvre. See description in
note to the Discourse.
VI. FRANÇOIS I., KING OF FRANCE 224
| 355.797847 | 1,701 |
2023-11-16 18:21:42.5744090
| 685 | 120 |
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.
OCTOBER
1665
October 1st (Lord's day). Called up about 4 of the clock and so dressed
myself and so on board the Bezan, and there finding all my company asleep
I would not wake them, but it beginning to be break of day I did stay upon
the decke walking, and then into the Maister's cabbin and there laid and
slept a little, and so at last was waked by Captain Cocke's calling of me,
and so I turned out, and then to chat and talk and laugh, and mighty
merry. We spent most of the morning talking and reading of "The Siege of
Rhodes," which is certainly (the more I read it the more I think so) the
best poem that ever was wrote. We breakfasted betimes and come to the
fleete about two of the clock in the afternoon, having a fine day and a
fine winde. My Lord received us mighty kindly, and after discourse with
us in general left us to our business, and he to his officers, having
called a council of wary, we in the meantime settling of papers with Mr.
Pierce and everybody else, and by and by with Captain Cuttance. Anon
called down to my Lord, and there with him till supper talking and
discourse; among other things, to my great joy, he did assure me that he
had wrote to the King and Duke about these prize-goods, and told me that
they did approve of what he had done, and that he would owne what he had
done, and would have me to tell all the world so, and did, under his hand,
give Cocke and me his certificate of our bargains, and giving us full
power of disposal of what we have so bought. This do ease my mind of all
my fear, and makes my heart lighter by L100 than it was before. He did
discourse to us of the Dutch fleete being abroad, eighty-five of them
still, and are now at the Texell, he believes, in expectation of our
Eastland ships coming home with masts and hempe, and our loaden Hambrough
ships going to Hambrough. He discoursed against them that would have us
yield to no conditions but conquest over the Dutch, and seems to believe
that the Dutch will call for the protection of the King of France and come
under his power, which were to
| 355.893819 | 1,702 |
2023-11-16 18:21:42.7239880
| 398 | 98 |
Produced by Richard Hulse 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 SERMON ON THE MOUNT
┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ │
│ Transcriber’s Notes │
│ │
│ │
│ Punctuation has been standardized. │
│ │
│ Characters in small caps have been replaced by all caps. │
│ │
│ Non-printable characteristics have been given the following │
│ transliteration: │
│ Italic text: --> _text_ │
│ bold text: --> =text=. │
│ │
│ This book was written in a period when many words had │
│ not become standardized in their spelling. Words may have │
│ multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation in │
│ the text. These have been left unchanged unless indicated │
│ with a Transcriber’s Note. │
│ │
│ The symbol ‘‡’ indicates the description in parenthesis has │
│ been added to an illustration. This may be needed if there │
│ is no caption or if the caption does not describe the image │
│ adequately. │
│ │
│ Index references have not been checked for accuracy. │
│ │
│ Footnotes are identified in the text with a number in │
│ brackets [2] and have been accumulated in a single section │
│ at the end of the text
| 356.043398 | 1,703 |
2023-11-16 18:21:43.3907010
| 1,173 | 385 |
KENSINGTON***
Transcribed from the S. Mary Abbots Parish Magazine (reprint) by David
Price, email [email protected]. Many thanks to the Royal Borough of
Chelsea and Kensington Libraries for allowing their copy to be used for
this transcription.
The Endowed Charities of Kensington;
BY WHOM BEQUEATHED,
AND
HOW ADMINISTERED.
* * * * *
BY
EDWARD MORTON DANIEL, Esq.
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Reprinted from the_ “S. MARY ABBOTS PARISH MAGAZINE.”
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Printed for Private Circulation_
The Endowed Charities of Kensington; by whom Bequeathed, and how
Administered.
BY EDWARD MORTON DANIEL, ESQ.
_A Paper read at a Meeting of the Kensington Ratepayers Association_,
_held at S. Mark’s Parish Rooms_, _Notting Hill_, _on Tuesday_, 21_st_
_April_, 1891.
[Reprinted from the “S. MARY ABBOTS PARISH MAGAZINE.”]
AS everyone has need of charity, everyone exercises charity, and most of
us receive charity, the subject is of personal application and importance
to us all. This is the case when charity is abstractly regarded; but
when we approach the consideration of the charities of our own parish,
those which we are bound to support and upon which we have individually a
claim, our subject must excite the keenest interest. Too much cannot be
known about them in order that their benefits may be distributed amongst
the fittest subjects and most deserving persons that can be found; and in
order that those of us who are blessed with means may learn how carefully
and fruitfully any benefaction we may make in the future will be utilised
and bestowed, if placed in the hands of those administering the charities
already established in our parish.
Perhaps the point which will strike you most, when you have learned what
I have to tell you this evening of the charities of Kensington, is the
circumstance that, from small sums of money left for purposes of charity,
great and ever growing results may spring, fulfilling purposes of good
far beyond the most sanguine anticipations in which the original donors
could have ever indulged.
Old Faulkner, to whose quaint and interesting history of Kensington I
would refer all lovers of antiquity and curious anecdote, writing in
1820, says: “The amount of benefactions to this parish is highly
creditable to the humanity of the original founders, and it is a pleasing
as well as an important part of the duty of the historian to record
these; perhaps in few parishes in the kingdom have they been more
scrupulously observed, or more faithfully administered.” Pleasing as it
was to Faulkner seventy years ago to remark upon the then condition of
the parish charities, it will be yet more gratifying to us to observe at
the present time how greatly they have developed, and how admirably they
have been fostered, improved, and administered. Seventy years ago
Kensington was really rural, containing only three or four hamlets, or
assemblages of dwellings, a few large houses with grounds, some
celebrated nursery and market gardens, and a few distinguished
inhabitants. This is what Tickell, the poet, says about it:—
“Here, while the town in damp and darkness lies,
They (at Kensington he means) breathe in sunshine and see azure
skies.”
What Kensington is now we all know; would that its charities had grown in
proportion to its population. Perhaps if through your kind exertions
more attention can be drawn to the subject they may enlarge, and the
history of the future charities of Kensington prove as creditable as the
past.
In the year 1807 a joint committee of the trustees of the poor, and of
the vestry, was appointed to consider and report, amongst other subjects,
upon the charities of the parish; and that committee undertook a most
careful and exhaustive inquiry into the matter, the results of which were
recorded in “The Report of the Kensington Committee of the 30th October,
1810.” It is needless to say that this report has now become a very rare
document. Fortunately a copy has been preserved in the archives of the
vestry, and to that copy—through the kindness of the vestry clerk,
although with all due precautions to its safe preservation—I have had
access; and thus we are enabled to make an interesting comparison between
the condition of the parish and its charities then and now.
It appears from this report (which is as able a document as I ever read)
that the parish in 1810 contained about 1,500 rateable houses, and an
estimated population of 10,000 souls.
It appears from the report to the vestry of the Medical Officer of Health
to the parish for the year 1888, dated July, 1889, that at the middle of
1888 the inhabited houses in the parish numbered 21,566, with an
estimated population of 177,000 persons.
In 1810 the main charity of the parish was then, as now, the Campden
Bequests. There were also the Methwold Almshouses, the Parish Free
School,
| 356.710111 | 1,704 |
2023-11-16 18:21:43.6048310
| 1,073 | 454 |
Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the
Web Archive (University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign)
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scans provided by the Internet Archive,
https://archive.org/details/delawareorruined01jame
(University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign)
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
EDINBURGH
PRINTED BY M. AITKEN, 1, ST JAMES's SQUARE.
DELAWARE;
OR
THE RUINED FAMILY.
A TALE.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR ROBERT CADELL, EDINBURGH;
AND WHITTAKER & CO., LONDON.
MDCCCXXXIII.
PREFACE.
Not many years ago, as the writer of this work was returning on
horseback to Castellamare, from a visit to the Lactarian Hills, he
overtook, just under the chestnut trees on the <DW72>, which every one
who has visited that part of Italy must remember, two gentlemen with
their guide, who were on their way home after some expedition of a
kind similar to his own.
As the indefinable something told him at once that they were
Englishmen, he turned, as usual under such circumstances, to examine
them more critically in passing, and in one of them recollected a
person whom he had met more than once in London. He hesitated whether
he should claim the acquaintance; as, when he had before seen him, the
traveller had appeared to great disadvantage. A man of rank and
fortune, flattered, caressed, single, and set at, he had borne a sort
of sneering indifference on his countenance, which certainly did not
recommend him to a person who neither sought his friendship nor feared
his contempt. A few traits, indeed, had casually appeared, which
seemed to betray a better spirit beneath this kind of supercilious
exterior; but still the impression was unfavourable.
All hesitation, however, was put an end to by a bow and friendly
recognition on the part of the other; and either because the
annoyances of the society in which he had formerly been met, were now
removed, or because a general improvement had worked itself in his
demeanour and character, his tone was so different, and his aspect so
prepossessing, that all feelings of dislike were soon done away. He
instantly made his "dear, new-found friend" acquainted with his
companion; and informing him that he had left his wife and sister at
the Albergo Reale, invited him to join their party for the evening.
This was accordingly done, and now--having ridden the third person
long enough, as it is the roughest going horse in the stable--I will,
with the reader's permission, do the next ten miles on the first
person singular.
The acquaintance which was there renewed soon went on to intimacy; and
as I found that the party which I had met with, consisted of an odd
number, the unfortunate fifth being an old gentleman, who required
some one more of his own age than his four relations to converse with,
I ventured to propose myself as their companion in a visit to some
places in the neighbourhood, and as their cicerone to Pæstum. The
proposal was accepted; and, strange enough to say, our companionship,
which had commenced so suddenly, did not end till those I may now
boldly call my friends returned to England, nearly a year after,
leaving me to stupify at Lauzanne.
Amongst the many pleasures which I derived from their society in
Italy, none was greater than that which some account of their
preceding adventures gave me. This was first obtained in a casual
manner, by hearing continual reference made amongst themselves to
particular circumstances. "Do you remember, Henry, such and such an
event? Does not that put you in mind of this, that, or the other?" was
continually ringing in my ears; and thus I gathered part ere the whole
was continuously related to me. At length, I obtained a complete
narrative; and though it was told with many a gay and happy jest, and
many a reference to details which would not amuse the world in
general, I could not help thinking that the public might find it
nearly as interesting as it proved to me.
In the same sort of gossiping anecdotical style in which I received
it, I have here, with full permission, put down the whole story. In
what tongue under the sun I have written it, I do not very well know,
though the language I intended to employ is a sort of jargon, based
upon Anglo-Saxon, with a superstructure of the Norman corruption of
French, propped up by bad Latin, and having the vacancies supplied by
Greek. Taking it for granted, that into this refuge for
| 356.924241 | 1,705 |
2023-11-16 18:21:43.6725090
| 2,042 | 56 |
Produced by Eric Eldred, Charles Franks, David Widger and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
VENETIAN LIFE
By William Dean Howells
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION.
In correcting this book for a second edition, I have sought to complete
it without altering its original plan: I have given a new chapter
sketching the history of Venetian Commerce and noticing the present
trade and industry of Venice; I have amplified somewhat the chapter on
the national holidays, and have affixed an index to the chief historical
persons, incidents, and places mentioned.
Believing that such value as my book may have is in fidelity to what
I actually saw and knew of Venice, I have not attempted to follow
speculatively the grand and happy events of last summer in their effects
upon her life. Indeed, I fancy that in the traits at which I loved most
to look, the life of Venice is not so much changed as her fortunes; but
at any rate I am content to remain true to what was fact one year ago.
W. D. H.
Cambridge, January 1, 1867.
CONTENTS.
I. Venice in Venice
II. Arrival and first Days in Venice
III. The Winter in Venice
IV. Comincia far Caldo
V. Opera and Theatres
VI. Venetian Dinners and Diners
VII. Housekeeping in Venice
VIII. The Balcony on the Grand Canal
IX. A Day-Break Ramble
X. The Mouse
XI. Churches and Pictures
XII. Some Islands of the Lagoons
XIII. The Armenians
XIV. The Ghetto and the Jews of Venice
XV. Some Memorable Places
XVI. Commerce
XVII. Venetian Holidays
XVIII. Christmas Holidays
XIX. Love-making and Marrying; Baptisms and Burials
XX. Venetian Traits and Characters
XXI. Society
XXII. Our Last Year in Venice
Index
CHAPTER I.
VENICE IN VENICE.
One night at the little theatre in Padua, the ticket-seller gave us the
stage-box (of which he made a great merit), and so we saw the play and
the byplay. The prompter, as noted from our point of view, bore a chief
part in the drama (as indeed the prompter always does in the Italian
theatre), and the scene-shifters appeared as prominent characters.
We could not help seeing the virtuous wife, when hotly pursued by the
villain of the piece, pause calmly in the wings, before rushing, all
tears and desperation, upon the stage; and we were dismayed to behold
the injured husband and his abandoned foe playfully scuffling behind the
scenes. All the shabbiness of the theatre was perfectly apparent to
us; we saw the grossness of the painting and the unreality of the
properties. And yet I cannot say that the play lost one whit of its
charm for me, or that the working of the machinery and its inevitable
clumsiness disturbed my enjoyment in the least. There was so much truth
and beauty in the playing, that I did not care for the sham of the ropes
and gilding, and presently ceased to take any note of them. The illusion
which I had thought an essential in the dramatic spectacle, turned out
to be a condition of small importance.
It has sometimes seemed to me as if fortune had given me a stage-box
at another and grander spectacle, and I had been suffered to see this
VENICE, which is to other cities like the pleasant improbability of the
theatre to every-day, commonplace life, to much the same effect as that
melodrama in Padua. I could not, indeed, dwell three years in the place
without learning to know it differently from those writers who have
described it in romances, poems, and hurried books of travel, nor help
seeing from my point of observation the sham and cheapness with which
Venice is usually brought out, if I may so speak, in literature. At the
same time, it has never lost for me its claim upon constant surprise
and regard, nor the fascination of its excellent beauty, its peerless
picturesqueness, its sole and wondrous grandeur. It is true that the
streets in Venice are canals; and yet you can walk to any part of the
city, and need not take boat whenever you go out of doors, as I once
fondly thought you must. But after all, though I find dry land enough
in it, I do not find the place less unique, less a mystery, or less a
charm. By day, the canals are still the main thoroughfares; and if
these avenues are not so full of light and color as some would have us
believe, they, at least, do not smell so offensively as others pretend.
And by night, they are still as dark and silent as when the secret
vengeance of the Republic plunged its victims into the ungossiping
depths of the Canalazzo!
Did the vengeance of the Republic ever do any such thing?
Possibly. In Venice one learns not quite to question that reputation
for vindictive and gloomy cruelty alien historians have given to a
government which endured so many centuries in the willing obedience
of its subjects; but to think that the careful student of the old
Republican system will condemn it for faults far different from those
for which it is chiefly blamed. At all events, I find it hard to
understand why, if the Republic was an oligarchy utterly selfish and
despotic, it has left to all classes of Venetians so much regret and
sorrow for its fall.
So, if the reader care to follow me to my stage-box, I imagine he will
hardly see the curtain rise upon just the Venice of his dreams--the
Venice of Byron, of Rogers, and Cooper; or upon the Venice of his
prejudices--the merciless Venice of Daru, and of the historians who
follow him. But I still hope that he will be pleased with the Venice he
sees; and will think with me that the place loses little in the illusion
removed; and--to take leave of our theatrical metaphor--I promise to
fatigue him with no affairs of my own, except as allusion to them may
go to illustrate Life in Venice; and positively he shall suffer no
annoyance from the fleas and bugs which, in Latin countries, so often
get from travelers' beds into their books.
Let us mention here at the beginning some of the sentimental errors
concerning the place, with which we need not trouble ourselves
hereafter, but which no doubt form a large part of every one's
associations with the name of Venice. Let us take, for example, that
pathetic swindle, the Bridge of Sighs. There are few, I fancy, who will
hear it mentioned without connecting its mystery and secrecy with the
taciturn justice of the Three, or some other cruel machinery of the
Serenest Republic's policy. When I entered it the first time I was at
the pains to call about me the sad company of those who had passed its
corridors from imprisonment to death; and, I doubt not, many excellent
tourists have done the same. I was somewhat ashamed to learn afterward
that I had, on this occasion, been in very low society, and that the
melancholy assemblage which I then conjured up was composed entirely
of honest rogues, who might indeed have given as graceful and ingenious
excuses for being in misfortune as the galley-slaves rescued by Don
Quixote,--who might even have been very picturesque,--but who were not
at all the material with which a well-regulated imagination would deal.
The Bridge of Sighs was not built till the end of the sixteenth century,
and no romantic episode of political imprisonment and punishment (except
that of Antonio Foscarini) occurs in Venetian history later than that
period. But the Bridge of Sighs could have nowise a savor of sentiment
from any such episode, being, as it was, merely a means of communication
between the Criminal Courts sitting in the Ducal Palace, and the
Criminal Prison across the little canal. Housebreakers, cut-purse
knaves, and murderers do not commonly impart a poetic interest to places
which have known them; and yet these are the only sufferers on whose
Bridge of Sighs the whole sentimental world has looked with pathetic
sensation ever since Byron drew attention to it. The name of the bridge
was given by the people from that opulence of compassion which enables
the Italians to pity even rascality in difficulties. [Footnote: The
reader will remember that Mr. Ruskin has said in a few words, much
better than I have said in many, the same thing of sentimental errors
about Venice:--
"The Venice of modern fiction and drama is a thing of yesterday, a mere
efflorescence of decay, a stage-dream, which the first ray of daylight
must dissipate into dust. No prisoner whose name is worth remembering,
or whose sorrows deserved sympathy, ever crossed that Bridge of Sighs,
which is the centre of the Byronic ideal of Venice; no great merchant
of Venice ever saw that Rialto under which the traveler now pauses with
breathless interest;
| 356.991919 | 1,706 |
2023-11-16 18:21:43.7171550
| 1,061 | 408 |
This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.
[Picture: Frontispiece]
HOPES AND FEARS
OR
SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF A SPINSTER
BY
CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
[Picture: Title picture]
_ILLUSTRATED BY HERBERT GANDY_
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1899
_All rights reserved_
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
"She felt, rather than saw him watching her all _Frontispiece_
the way from the garden-gate to the wood."
"I find I can't spare you, Honora; you had better _Page_ 11
stay at the Holt for good."
"He drew the paper before him. Lucilla started _Page_ 296
to her feet."
PART I
CHAPTER I
Who ought to go then and who ought to stay!
Where do you draw an obvious border line?
_Cecil and Mary_
Among the numerous steeples counted from the waters of the Thames, in the
heart of the City, and grudged by modern economy as cumberers of the soil
of Mammon, may be remarked an abortive little dingy cupola, surmounting
two large round eyes which have evidently stared over the adjacent roofs
ever since the Fire that began at Pie-corner and ended in Pudding-lane.
Strange that the like should have been esteemed the highest walk of
architecture, and yet Honora Charlecote well remembered the days when St.
Wulstan's was her boast, so large, so clean, so light, so Grecian, so far
surpassing damp old Hiltonbury Church. That was at an age when her
enthusiasm found indiscriminate food in whatever had a hold upon her
affections, the nearer her heart being of course the more admirable in
itself, and it would be difficult to say which she loved the most
ardently, her city home in Woolstone-lane, or Hiltonbury Holt, the old
family seat, where her father was a welcome guest whenever his
constitution required relaxation from the severe toils of a London
rector.
Woolstone-lane was a locality that sorely tried the coachmen of Mrs.
Charlecote's West End connections, situate as it was on the very banks of
the Thames, and containing little save offices and warehouses, in the
midst of which stood Honora's home. It was not the rectory, but had been
inherited from City relations, and it antedated the Fire, so that it was
one of the most perfect remnants of the glories of the merchant princes
of ancient London. It had a court to itself, shut in by high walls, and
paved with round-headed stones, with gangways of flags in mercy to the
feet; the front was faced with hewn squares after the pattern of Somerset
House, with the like ponderous sashes, and on a smaller scale, the Louis
XIV. pediment, apparently designed for the nesting-place of swallows and
sparrows. Within was a hall, panelled with fragrant softly-tinted cedar
wood, festooned with exquisite garlands of fruit and flowers, carved by
Gibbons himself, with all his peculiarities of rounded form and delicate
edge. The staircase and floor were of white stone, tinted on sunny days
with reflections from the windows' three medallions of yellow and white
glass, where Solomon, in golden mantle and crowned turban, commanded the
division of a stout lusty child hanging by one leg; superintended the
erection of a Temple worthy of Haarlem; or graciously welcomed a
recoiling stumpy Vrow of a Queen of Sheba, with golden hair all down her
back.
The river aspect of the house had come to perfection at the Elizabethan
period, and was sculptured in every available nook with the chevron and
three arrows of the Fletchers' Company, and a merchant's mark, like a
figure of four with a curly tail. Here were the oriel windows of the
best rooms, looking out on a grassplat, small enough in country eyes, but
most extensive for the situation, with straight gravelled walks, and low
lilac and laburnum trees, that came into profuse blossom long before
their country cousins, but which, like the crocuses and snowdrops of the
flower borders, had better be looked at than touched by such as dreaded
sooty fingers. These shrubs veiled the garden from the great river
thoroughfare, to which it sloped down, still showing traces of the
handsome stone steps and balustrade that once had formed the access of
the gold-chained alderman to his sumptuous barge.
Along those
| 357.036565 | 1,707 |
2023-11-16 18:21:44.0422810
| 17 | 120 |
Produced by David Widger
HUCKLEBERRY FINN
| 357.361691 | 1,708 |
2023-11-16 18:21:44.7748240
| 1,316 | 170 |
Produced by Karl Hagen, Eleni Christofaki and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions
(www.canadiana.org))
Transcriber's Note.
A list of the changes made can be found at the end of the book.
Formatting and special characters are indicated as follows:
_italic_
=bold=
^{9} -us abbreviation
^{superscript}
[~e] e with tilde
[~u] u with tilde
[~q] q with tilde
[=s] long s
[=oi] oi with inverted breve
[(u] u with inverted breve
THE JESUIT RELATIONS AND ALLIED DOCUMENTS
VOL. III
The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents
TRAVELS AND EXPLORATIONS OF THE JESUIT MISSIONARIES IN NEW FRANCE
1610-1791
THE ORIGINAL FRENCH, LATIN, AND ITALIAN TEXTS, WITH ENGLISH
TRANSLATIONS AND NOTES; ILLUSTRATED BY PORTRAITS, MAPS, AND
FACSIMILES
EDITED BY
REUBEN GOLD THWAITES
Secretary of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin
Vol. III
ACADIA: 1611-1616
CLEVELAND: =The Burrows Brothers Company=, PUBLISHERS, M DCCC XCVII
COPYRIGHT, 1897
BY
THE BURROWS BROTHERS CO
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_The Imperial Press, Cleveland_
EDITORIAL STAFF
Editor REUBEN GOLD THWAITES
Translator from the French JOHN CUTLER COVERT
Assistant Translator from the French MARY SIFTON PEPPER
Translator from the Latin WILLIAM FREDERIC GIESE
Translator from the Italian MARY SIFTON PEPPER
Assistant Editor EMMA HELEN BLAIR
CONTENTS OF VOL. III
PREFACE TO VOLUME III 1
DOCUMENTS:--
XIII. Epistola ad Reverendissimum Patrem Claudium Aquavivam,
Præpositum Generalem Societatis Jesu, Romæ. _Pierre Biard_;
Amiens, May 26, 1614. 3
XIV. Relation de la Novvelle France, de ses Terres, Natvrel du Pais,
& de ses Habitans. [Chapters i-xxv.] _Pierre Biard_; Paris, 1616 21
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL DATA: VOLUME III 285
NOTES 291
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATION TO VOL. III
Photographic facsimile of title-page, Biard's _Relation_ of 1616 24
PREFACE TO VOL. III
Following is a synopsis of the documents contained in the present
volume:
XIII. Biard writes from Amiens (May 26, 1614) to the general of the
order, reporting the planting of St. Sauveur mission, the attack by
Argall, the captivity of the Jesuit missionaries, and their safe return
to France.
XIV. Biard's _Relation_ of 1616 opens with an historical sketch of
French discoveries in New France. The climate of the country, its
forests, and its inhabitants, are described; the writer discourses
on the mode of life among the savages, their dwellings, tribal
organization, polity, women, marriage, medicine, practices of
witchcraft, burials, etc. As a basis for missionary work, he advocates
the establishment of a colony which shall be properly supported in
France, and to this end appeals to the sympathies of Catholics at home.
Much space is devoted to answering the attacks on the Jesuit missions
of New France, made by an anonymous pamphleteer, who has been supposed
to be Lescarbot himself. Continuing with a report of his own movements,
Biard describes the voyage made by himself and Biencourt as far as the
Kennebec River, and the privations and hardships of the colony during
the ensuing winter (1611-12). He again recounts the manner in which
Mme. de Guercheville obtained a grant of New France, and sent a colony
to St. Sauveur, on Mt. Desert Island; the disputes between Biencourt
and the Jesuits; the stay of Massé among the savages on St. John
River; his own trip to Chignectou, with Biencourt; and the hardships
endured by both, as also those of the entire colony, during the winter
of 1612-13. The Jesuits, during this winter, build a boat, and are
thus enabled to go fishing. La Saussaye arrives at Port Royal under
Mme. de Guercheville's auspices, and takes the Jesuits away with him
to St. Sauveur. The settlement there is well begun, when Argall comes
upon it, and takes the French captive. Owing to the great length of
this _Relation_, we have space in the present volume but for the first
twenty-five chapters; the remaining twelve will form the opening part
of Volume IV.
R. G. T.
MADISON, WIS., November, 1896.
XIII
BIARD'S EPISTOLA
ad Reverendissimum Patrem Claudium Aquavivam
(26 Maii, 1614)
SOURCE: We follow Father Martin's apograph (in the Archives of St.
Mary's College, at Montreal) of the original Latin MS. in the Archives
of the Gesù, at Rome.
Epistola Patris Petri Biardi ad Reverendissimum Patrem Claudium
Aquavivam, Præpositum Generalem Societatis Jesu, Romæ.
| 358.094234 | 1,709 |
2023-11-16 18:21:44.7886660
| 439 | 98 |
Produced by Chuck Greif (This file was produced from images
available at Google Books)
NEWCASTLE
-VPON-TYNE
A SKETCH-BOOK BY
Robert J. S. Bertram
A·&·C·BLACK Ltd·SOHO SQUARE·LONDON·1916
DRAWINGS
1 THE·KEEP·OF·THE·CASTLE: (TITLE·PAGE).
2 NEWCASTLE·FROM·GATESHEAD.
3 THE·SOUTH·POSTERN.
4 THE·BLACK·GATE.
5 THE·GREAT·HALL·OF·THE·CASTLE.
6 THE·SALLYPORT.
7 THE·CATHEDRAL·FROM·GROAT·MARKET.
8 ST NICHOLAS'·&·BLACK·GATE: from·the·Castle.
9 ST ANDREW'S·CHURCH.
10 ST JOHN'S·CHURCH.
11 CHAPEL·IN·THE·TRINITY·HOUSE.
12 ALL·SAINT'S·CHURCH.
13 ST MARY'S·CHURCH, GATESHEAD.
14 HOLY·JESUS'·HOSPITAL.
15 SURTEES'·HOUSE, SANDHILL.
16 GREY·STREET.
17 BLACKETT·STREET.
18 NEVILLE·STREET.
19 THE·QUAYSIDE.
20 THE·FOUR·BRIDGES.
21 ELSWICK·WORKS.
22 PALMER'S·WORKS, JARROW.
23 THE·HIGH·AND·LOW·LIGHTS, NORTH·SHIELDS.
24 IN·JESMOND·DENE.
[Illustration: THE·KEEP·OF·THE·CASTLE: (TITLE·PAGE).]
[Illustration: NEWCASTLE·FROM·GATESHEAD.]
| 358.108076 | 1,710 |
2023-11-16 18:21:44.9644350
| 390 | 155 |
Produced by ellinora, Charlie Howard, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
SARAH BERNHARDT
[Illustration: Mme. Sarah Bernhardt.]
SARAH BERNHARDT
BY
JULES HURET
WITH A PREFACE BY
EDMOND ROSTAND
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY
G. A. RAPER
_WITH FIFTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONDON
CHAPMAN & HALL, LTD.
1899
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON & BUNGAY.
PREFACE
MY DEAR HURET,
You have given me an attack of vertigo. I have been reading your
biography of our illustrious friend. Its rapid, nervous style, its
accumulation of dates and facts, its hurried rush of scenery and events
flying past as though seen from an express train, all help to attain
what I imagine must have been your object--to give the reader vertigo.
I have got it.
I knew all these things, but I had forgotten them. They are so many
that no one even attempts to reckon them up. We are accustomed to
admire Sarah. “An extraordinary woman,” we say, without at all
realizing how true the remark is. And when we find ourselves suddenly
confronted with an epic narrative such as yours; with such a series of
battles and victories, expeditions and conquests, we stand amazed.
We expected that there was more to tell than we knew, but not quite
so much more! Yes, here
| 358.283845 | 1,711 |
2023-11-16 18:21:45.1225590
| 1,023 | 406 |
E-text prepared by Carl D. DuBois
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustration.
See 28025-h.htm or 28025-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/0/2/28025/28025-h/28025-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/0/2/28025/28025-h.zip)
THE STORY OF JOHN G. PATON
Or Thirty Years Among South Sea Cannibals
by
REV. JAMES PATON, B.A.
Illustrated
A. L. Burt Company,Publishers, New York
PREFACE.
EVER since the story of my brother's life first appeared (January 1889)
it has been constantly pressed upon me that a YOUNG FOLKS' EDITION would
be highly prized. The Autobiography has therefore been re-cast and
illustrated, in the hope and prayer that the Lord will use it to inspire
the Boys and Girls of Christendom with a wholehearted enthusiasm for the
Conversion of the Heathen World to Jesus Christ.
A few fresh incidents have been introduced; the whole contents have been
rearranged to suit a new class of readers; and the service of a gifted
Artist has been employed, to make the book every way attractive to the
young. For _full_ details as to the Missionary's work and life, the
COMPLETE EDITION must still of course be referred to.
JAMES PATON.
GLASGOW, _Sept,_ 1892.
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
1. Our Cottage Home
2. Our Forebears
3. Consecrated Parents
4. School Days
5. Leaving the Old Home
6. Early Struggles
7. A City Missionary
8. Glasgow Experiences
9. A Foreign Missionary
10. To the New Hebrides
11. First Impressions of Heathendom
12. Breaking Ground on Tanna
13. Pioneers in the New Hebrides
14. The Great Bereavement
15. At Home with Cannibals
16. Superstitions and Cruelties
17. Streaks of Dawn amidst Deeds of Darkness
18. The Visit of H.M.S. "Cordelia"
19. "Noble Old Abraham"
20. A Typical South Sea Trader
21. Under Axe and Musket
22. A Native Saint and Martyr
23. Building and Printing for God
24. Heathen Dance and Sham Fight
25. Cannibals at Work
26. The Defying of Nahak
27. A Perilous Pilgrimage
28. The Plague of Measles
29. Attacked with Clubs
30. Kowia
31. The Martyrdom of the Gordons
32. Shadows Deepening on Tanna
33. The Visit of the Commodore
34. The War Chiefs in Council
35. Under Knife and Tomahawk
36. The Beginning of the End
37. Five Hours in a Canoe
38. A Race for Life
39. Faint yet Pursuing
40. Waiting at Kwamera
41. The Last Awful Night
42. "Sail O! Sail O!"
43. Farewell to Tanna
44. The Floating of the "Dayspring"
45. A Shipping Company for Jesus
46. Australian Incidents
47. Amongst Squatters and Diggers
48. John Gilpin in the Bush
49. The Aborigines of Australia
50. Nora
51. Back to Scotland
52. Tour through the Old Country
53. Marriage and Farewell
54. First Peep at the "Dayspring"
55. The French in the Pacific
56. The Gospel and Gunpowder
57. A Plea for Tanna
58. Our New Home on Aniwa
59. House-Building for God
60. A City of God
61. The Religion of Revenge
62. First Fruits on Aniwa
63. Traditions and Customs
64. Nelwang's Elopement
65. The Christ-Spirit at Work
66. The Sinking of the Well
67. Rain from Below
68. The Old Chief's Sermon
69. The First Book and the New Eyes
70. A Roof-Tree for Jesus
71. "Knock the Tevil out!"
72. The Conversion of Youwili
73. First Communion on Aniwa
74. The New Social Order
75. The Orphans and their Biscuits
76. The Finger-Posts of God
77. The Gospel in Living Capitals
78. The Death of
| 358.441969 | 1,712 |
2023-11-16 18:21:45.1755280
| 1,029 | 519 |
WAR, ITS CAUSES AND ITS CONDUCT, VOLUME I (OF 2)***
E-text prepared by David Edwards, 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: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/historyconfederate01egglrich
Project Gutenberg has the other volume of this work.
Volume II: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46175
THE HISTORY OF THE CONFEDERATE WAR
ITS CAUSES AND ITS CONDUCT
A Narrative and Critical History
by
GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON
VOLUME I
New York
Sturgis & Walton Company
1910
All rights reserved
Copyright, 1910
By Sturgis & Walton Company
Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1910
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
PART I.--THE CAUSES OF THE WAR
Introduction 3
I. A Public, Not a Civil War 13
II. The Growth of the National Idea 19
III. The "Irrepressible Conflict" 37
IV. The Annexation of Texas 58
V. The Compromise of 1850 71
VI. Uncle Tom's Cabin 107
VII. The Repeal of the Missouri Compromise, The
Kansas-Nebraska Bill and Squatter Sovereignty 112
VIII. The Kansas War--The Dred Scott Decision--John Brown's
Exploit at Harper's Ferry 122
IX. The Election of 1860 138
X. The Birth of War 147
PART II.--THE CONDUCT OF THE WAR
XI. The Reduction of Fort Sumter 177
XII. The Attitude of the Border States 194
XIII. "Pepper Box" Strategy 203
XIV. Manassas 215
XV. The Paralysis of Victory 233
XVI. The European Menace 249
XVII. Border Operations 256
XVIII. The Blockade--The Conquest of the Coast and the Neglect
to Follow up the Advantage thus Gained 261
XIX. The Era of Incapacity 268
XX. The First Appearance of Grant 273
XXI. The Situation Before Shiloh 282
XXII. Between Manassas and Shiloh--The Situation in Virginia 293
XXIII. Shiloh 302
XXIV. New Madrid and Island Number 10 328
XXV. Farragut at New Orleans 332
XXVI. McClellan's Peninsular Advance 352
XXVII. Jackson's Valley Campaign 363
XXVIII. The Seven Days' Battles 397
XXIX. The Second Manassas Campaign 414
XXX. Lee's First Invasion of Maryland 423
PART I
THE CAUSES OF THE WAR
INTRODUCTION
THE MAGNITUDE OF THE CONFEDERATE WAR
During the years from 1861 to 1865, one of the greatest wars in all
history was fought in this country.
There were in all three million three hundred and seventy-eight
thousand men engaged in the fighting of it.
There are not that many men in all the regular standing armies of
Europe combined, even if we include the unpaid hordes of Turkey and the
military myriads of the armed camp known to geography as Russia.
The actual fighting field of this war of ours was larger than the whole
of western Europe, and all of it was trampled over and fought over by
great armies.
The men killed or mortally wounded in our war numbered on the Northern
side alone 110,000. The total number of deaths resulting from military
operations on the Northern side alone was 350,000. The figures for the
Southern side are not accessible, owing to the loss of records. But
as the fighting was equally determined on both sides, and as other
conditions were substantially equal, it is certain that the losses of
life were relatively about the same on both sides. It is well within
the facts, therefore, to say that this war of ours directly caused the
death of more than half a million men. No other war in modern history
has cost so many lives or half so many.
We hear much of our recent war with Spain. Let us take it as a basis
of comparison. The total number of men even nominally called into the
field in
| 358.494938 | 1,713 |
2023-11-16 18:21:45.2259250
| 404 | 144 |
Produced by Georges Allaire, and Martin Ward
WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE WORLD
By G.K. Chesterton
CONTENTS
PART ONE: THE HOMELESSNESS OF MAN
I The Medical Mistake
II Wanted: An Unpractical Man
III The New Hypocrite
IV The Fear of the Past
V The Unfinished Temple
VI The Enemies of Property
VII The Free Family
XIII The Wildness of Domesticity
IX History of Hudge and Gudge
X Oppression by Optimism
XI The Homelessness of Jones
PART TWO: IMPERIALISM, OR THE MISTAKE ABOUT MAN
I The Charm of Jingoism
II Wisdom and the Weather
III The Common Vision
IV The Insane Necessity
PART THREE: FEMINISM, OR THE MISTAKE ABOUT WOMAN
I The Unmilitary Suffragette
II The Universal Stick
III The Emancipation of Domesticity
IV The Romance of Thrift
V The Coldness of Chloe
VI The Pedant and the Savage
VII The Modern Surrender of Woman
VIII The Brand of the Fleur-de-Lis
IX Sincerity and the Gallows
X The Higher Anarchy
XI The Queen and the Suffragettes
XII The Modern Slave
PART FOUR: EDUCATION, OR THE MISTAKE ABOUT THE CHILD
I The Calvinism of To-day
II The Tribal Terror
III The Tricks of Environment
IV The Truth About Education
V An Evil Cry
VI Authority the Unavoidable
VII The Humility of Mrs
| 358.545335 | 1,714 |
2023-11-16 18:21:45.8522360
| 1,124 | 408 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Lodges in the Wilderness
By William Charles Scully
Published by Herbert Jenkins Limited, London.
This edition dated 1915.
Lodges in the Wilderness, by William Charles Scully.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
LODGES IN THE WILDERNESS, BY WILLIAM CHARLES SCULLY.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE BUSHMANLAND DESERT--ITS NATURE AND EXTENT--DESERT TRAVELLING--THE
"TOA."
The world moves rapidly and with increasing momentum. Even regions
remote from those communities which the stress of increasing population
and the curse of unleisured industrialism send spinning "down the
ringing grooves of change," are often so disturbed or overwhelmed by the
overflow of what threatens to be an almost worldwide current of morbid
energy, that within a strangely short period their character is apt
completely to alter and their individuality to become utterly destroyed.
I do not know how the Great Bushmanland Desert has fared in this
respect--not having visited it for several years--but if some unlikely
combination of circumstances were to take me once more to Aroegas or
Koisabies,--to the tiny spring of living water that trickles from the
depths and lies like a precious jewel hidden in the dark, narrow cavern
at Inkruip,--or to where the flaming, red-belted cone of Bantom Berg
glares over the dragon-folds of the dune-devil sprawling at its feet, I
should go in fear of finding empty sardine-tins and broken bottles lying
among the fragments of prehistoric pottery and flint implements which
were but recently the only traces of man to be found in those abodes of
solitude.
The Bushmanland Desert is but little-known. A few nomads--some of
European and some of mixed descent--hang on its fringe. Here and there
ephemeral mat-house villages, whose dwellers are dependent on the sparse
and uncertain bounty of the sky, will, perhaps, be found for a season.
But when the greedy sun has reclaimed the last drop of moisture from
shallow "pan" or sand-choked rock-saucer, the mat-houses are folded up
and, like the Arabs, these dwellers steal silently away from the
blighting visage of the Thirst King. But the greater portion of
Bushmanland may be ranked among the most complete solitudes of the
earth. The lion, the rhinoceros, and, in fact, most of the larger
indigenous fauna have disappeared from it--with the autochthonous pygmy
human inhabitants; nevertheless it is a region full of varied and
distinctive interest. The landscape consists either of vast plains,
mirage-haunted and as level as the sea,--arid mountain ranges--usually
mere piles of naked rock, or immense sand-dunes, massed and convoluted.
The latter often change their form and occasionally their location under
stress of the violent winds which sweep down from the torrid north.
The tract is an extensive one, probably upwards of 50,000 square miles
lie within its limits. It is bounded on the north by the Gariep or
Orange River--but as that flows and eddies at the bottom of a tremendous
gorge which is cut off from the plains by a lofty, stark range of
mountains,--coal-black in colour for their greater extent and glowing
hot throughout the long, cloudless day, the traveller seldom sees it.
The western boundary is the Atlantic Ocean; the eastern an imaginary
line drawn approximately south from the Great Aughrabies Falls to the
Kat Kop Range. If we bisect this line with another drawn due east from
the coast to the Lange Berg, we shall get a sufficiently recognisable
boundary on the south. From the tract so defined must be deducted the
small area surrounding the Copper Mines, and a narrow strip of mountain
land running parallel with, and about sixty miles from the coast. This
strip is sparsely inhabited by European farmers.
The occasional traversing of this vast tract lay within the scope of my
official duties. My invariable travelling companion was Field Cornet
Andries Esterhuizen (of whom more anon) and a small retinue of police,
drivers, and after-riders. We never escaped hardship; the sun scorched
fiercely and the sand over which we tramped was often hot enough to cook
an egg in. Water, excepting the supply we carried with us, was as a
rule unobtainable; consequently we had to eschew washing completely. We
often had to travel by night so as to spare the oxen, and as the
water-casks usually almost filled the wagon, we then had to tramp,
vainly longing for sleep, through long, weary hours, from sunset to
sunrise. And after the sun had arisen the heat, as a rule, made sleep
impossible.
It was to the more inaccessible--and therefore comparatively inviolate--
expanses of this wilderness that I was always tempted to penetrate.
Therein were to be found a scanty flora and a fauna--each unusual and
| 359.171646 | 1,715 |
2023-11-16 18:21:46.4109350
| 1,044 | 413 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "YOU HAVE MADE ME ONCE MORE IN LOVE WITH THE GOODNESS OF
GOD, IN LOVE WITH LIFE" See page 325]
Adrian
Savage
A Novel
BY LUCAS MALET
AUTHOR OF
"SIR RICHARD CALMADY"
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXI
[Illustration: Title page]
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED OCTOBER, 1911
TO
GABRIELLE FRANCESCA LILIAN MARY
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED. UPON
HER BIRTHDAY. AS A LOVE-TOKEN
BY
LUCAS MALET
THE ORCHARD, EVERSLEY AUGUST 28, 1911
CONTENTS
I
CONCERNING THE DEAD AND THE LIVING
CHAP.
I. In which the Reader is Invited to Make the Acquaintance of the Hero
of this Book
II. Wherein a Very Modern Young Man Tells a Time-Honored Tale with but
Small Encouragement
III. Telling How René Dax Cooked a Savory Omelette, and Why Gabrielle
St. Leger Looked Out of an Open Window at Past Midnight
IV. Climbing the Ladder
V. Passages from Joanna Smyrthwaite's Locked Book
VI. Some Consequences of Putting New Wine into Old Bottles
VII. In which Adrian Helps to Throw Earth into an Open Grave
VIII. A Modern Antigone
II
THE DRAWINGS UPON THE WALL
I. A Waster
II. The Return of the Native
III. A Straining of Friendship
IV. In which Adrian Sets Forth in Pursuit of the Further Reason
V. With Deborah, under an Oak in the Parc Monceau
VI. Recording the Vigil of a Scarlet Homunculus and Aristides the Just
III
THE OTHER SIDE
I. Recording a Brave Man's Effort to Cultivate His Private Garden
II. A Strategic Movement which Secures Victory while Simulating Retreat
III. In which Euterpe is Called Upon to Play the Part of Interpreter
IV. Some Passages from Joanna Smyrthwaite's Locked Book
V. In which Adrian's Knowledge of Some Inhabitants of the Tower House
is Sensibly Increased
VI. Which Plays Seesaw between a Game of Lawn Tennis and a Prodigal Son
VII. Pistols or Politeness--For Two
VIII. "Nuit de Mai"
IV
THE FOLLY OF THE WISE
I. Re-enter a Wayfaring Gossip
II. In the Track of the Brain-storm
III. In which the Storm Breaks
IV. On the Heights
V. De Profundis
V
THE LIVING AND THE DEAD
I. Some Passages from Joanna Smyrthwaite's Locked Book
II. Recording a Sisterly Effort to Let in Light
III. In which Joanna Embraces a Phantom Bliss
IV. "Come Unto These Yellow Sands"
V. In which Adrian Makes Disquieting Acquaintance with the Long Arm of
Coincidence
VI. Concerning a Curse, and the Manner of Its Going Home to Roost
VII. Some Passages from Joanna Smyrthwaite's Locked Book
VIII. In which a Strong Man Adopts a Very Simple Method of Clearing His
Own Path of Thorns
IX. Wherein Adrian Savage Succeeds in Awakening La Belle au Bois Dormant
PREFATORY NOTE
I will ask my readers kindly to understand that this book is altogether
a work of fiction. The characters it portrays, their circumstances and
the episodes in which they play a part, are my own invention.
Every sincere and scientific student of human nature and the social
scene must, of necessity, depend upon direct observation of life for
his general types--the said types being the composite photographs with
which study and observation have supplied him. But, for the shaping of
individual characters out of the said types, he should, in my opinion,
rely exclusively upon his imagination and his sense of dramatic
coherence. Exactly in proportion as he does this can he claim to be a
true artist. Since the novel, to be a work of art, must be impersonal,
neither autobiographical nor biographical.--I am not, of course,
speaking of the historical novel, whether the history involved be
ancient or contemporary, nor am I speaking of an admitted satire.
I wish further to assure my readers that the names of my
| 359.730345 | 1,716 |
2023-11-16 18:21:46.4757790
| 1,022 | 390 |
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.)
RUSSIAN FAIRY TALES
From the Skazki of Polevoi
By
R. NISBET BAIN
Illustrated by C. M. Gere
Third Edition
London
A. H. Bullen
18 Cecil Court, St. Martin's Lane, W.C.
1901
PREFACE.
The existence of the Russian Skazki or Maerchen was first made
generally known to the British Public some twenty years ago by
Mr. W. R. S. Ralston in his Russian Folk Tales. That excellent
and most engrossing volume was, primarily, a treatise on Slavonic
Folk-Lore, illustrated with admirable skill and judgment, by stories,
mainly selected from the vast collection of Afanasiev, who did for
the Russian what Asbjoernsen has done for the Norwegian Folk-Tale. A
year after the appearance of Mr. Ralston's book, the eminent Russian
historian and archaeologist, Peter Nikolaevich Polevoi (well known,
too, as an able and ardent Shaksperian scholar), selected from the
inexhaustible stores of Afanasiev some three dozen of the Skazki most
suitable for children, and worked them up into a fairy tale book
which was published at St. Petersburg in 1874, under the title of
Narodnuiya Russkiya Skazki (Popular Russian Maerchen). To manipulate
these quaintly vigorous old-world stories for nursery purposes was,
as may well be imagined, no easy task, but, on the whole, M. Polevoi
did his work excellently well, and while softening the crudities and
smoothing out the occasional roughness of these charming stories,
neither injured their simple texture nor overlaid the original pattern.
It is from the first Russian edition of M. Polevoi's book that the
following selection has been made. With the single exception of
"Morozko," a variant of which will be familiar to those who know
Mr. Ralston's volume, none of these tales has seen the light in an
English dress before; for though both Ralston and Polevoi drew, for
the most part, from the same copious stock, their purposes were so
different that their selections naturally proved to be different also.
As to the merits of these Skazki, they must be left to speak for
themselves. It is a significant fact, however, that all those
scholars who are equally familiar with the Russian Skazki and the
German Maerchen, unhesitatingly give the palm, both for fun and fancy,
to the former.
R. N. B.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
The Golden Mountain 1
Morozko 8
The Flying Ship 13
The Muzhichek-As-Big-As-Your-Thumb-with-Moustaches-Seven-
Versts-Long 22
The Story of the Tsarevich Ivan, and of the Harp that Harped
Without a Harper 34
The Story of Gore-Gorinskoe 56
Go I Know Not Whither--Fetch I Know Not What 64
Kuz'ma Skorobogaty 85
The Tsarevna Loveliness-Inexhaustible 94
Verlioka 111
The Frog-Tsarevna 118
The Two Sons of Ivan the Soldier 127
The Woman-Accuser 143
Thomas Berennikov 150
The White Duck 159
The Tale of Little Fool Ivan 165
The Little Feather of Fenist the Bright Falcon 188
The Tale of the Peasant Demyan 200
The Enchanted Ring 202
The Brave Labourer 220
The Sage Damsel 222
The Prophetic Dream 229
Two Out of the Knapsack 245
The Story of Marko the Rich and Vasily the Luckless 252
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Golden Mountain Frontispiece.
Morosko To face page 9
The Tsarevna Loveliness-Inexhaustible ,, ,, ,, 103
The Princess and the Cunning Witch ,, ,, ,, 160
The Damsel Went on Further, and the Road Grew
Lighter and Lighter ,,
| 359.795189 | 1,717 |
2023-11-16 18:21:46.7125260
| 393 | 113 |
Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at Free
Literature (online soon in an extended version, also linking
to free sources for education worldwide... MOOC's,
educational materials,...) Images generously made available
by the Internet Archive.
Philosophical Letters:
OR,
MODEST REFLECTIONS
Upon some Opinions in
_NATURAL PHILOSOPHY_,
MAINTAINED
By several Famous and Learned Authors of this Age,
Expressed by way of LETTERS:
By the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, and Excellent Princess,
The Lady MARCHIONESS of _NEWCASTLE_.
_LONDON_, Printed in the Year, 1664.
TO HER EXCELLENCY
The Lady Marchioness of NEWCASTLE
On her Book of Philosophical Letters.
_'Tis Supernatural, nay 'tis Divine,
To write whole Volumes ere I can a line.
I'mplor'd the Lady Muses, those fine things,
But they have broken all their Fidle-strings
And cannot help me; Nay, then I did try
Their_ Helicon, _but that is grown all dry:_
_Then on_ Parnassus _I did make a sallie,
But that's laid level, like a Bowling-alley;
Invok'd my Muse, found it a Pond, a Dream,
To your eternal Spring, and running Stream;
So clear and fresh, with Wit and Phansie store,
As then despair did bid me write no more._
W. Newcastle.
TO HIS EXCELLENCY
The Lord Marquis of NEWCASTLE.
My Noble Lord,
Although you have, always encouraged me in my harmless pastime of
Writing, yet was I afraid that your Lordship would be angry with
me for Writing and Publishing this Book,
| 360.031936 | 1,718 |
2023-11-16 18:21:46.7306420
| 406 | 82 |
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: "BRAWN... DASHED ON TO THE RESCUE"]
In Far Bolivia
A Story of a Strange Wild Land
BY
DR. GORDON STABLES, R.N.
Author of "'Twixt School and College" "The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds"
"The Naval Cadet" "Kidnapped by Cannibals" &c.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. FINNEMORE, R.I._
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW DUBLIN BOMBAY
1901
TO
MARIE CONNOR LEIGHTON
(NOVELIST AND CRITIC)
THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED
EVERY KINDLY WISH
BY
THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
Every book should tell its own story without the aid of "preface" or
"introduction". But as in this tale I have broken fresh ground, it is
but right and just to my reader, as well as to myself, to mention
prefatorially that, as far as descriptions go, both of the natives and
the scenery of Bolivia and the mighty Amazon, my story is strictly
accurate.
I trust that Chapter XXIII, giving facts about social life in La Paz and
Bolivia, with an account of that most marvellous of all sheets of fresh
water in the known world, Lake Titicaca, will be found of general
interest.
But vast stretches of this strange wild land of Bolivia are a closed
book to the world, for they have never yet been explored; nor do we know
aught of the tribes of savages who dwell therein, as far removed from
civilization and from the benign influence of Christianity as if they
were
| 360.050052 | 1,719 |
2023-11-16 18:21:46.8177060
| 1,102 | 408 |
Produced by Col. Choat. HTML version by Al Haines.
A Lady's Visit to the Gold Diggings of Australia in 1852-53
by
Mrs Charles (Ellen) Clacy
CONTENTS
Chapter I. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
Chapter II. THE VOYAGE OUT
Chapter III. STAY IN MELBOURNE
Chapter IV. CAMPING UP--MELBOURNE TO THE BLACK FOREST
Chapter V. CAMPING UP--BLACK FOREST TO EAGLE HAWK GULLY
Chapter VI. THE DIGGINGS
Chapter VII. EAGLE HAWK GULLY
Chapter VIII. AN ADVENTURE
Chapter IX. HARRIETTE WALTERS
Chapter X. IRONBARK GULLY
Chapter XI. FOREST CREEK
Chapter XII. RETURN TO MELBOURNE
Chapter XIII. BALLARAT
Chapter XIV. NEW SOUTH WALES
Chapter XV. SOUTH AUSTRALIA
Chapter XVI. MELBOURNE AGAIN
Chapter XVII. HOMEWARD BOUND
Chapter XVIII. CONCLUSION
APPENDIX. WHO SHOULD EMIGRATE?
Chapter I.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
It may be deemed presumptuous that one of my age and sex should venture
to give to the public an account of personal adventures in a land which
has so often been descanted upon by other and abler pens; but when I
reflect on the many mothers, wives, and sisters in England, whose
hearts are ever longing for information respecting the dangers and
privations to which their relatives at the antipodes are exposed,
I cannot but hope that the presumption of my undertaking may be
pardoned in consideration of the pleasure which an accurate description
of some of the Australian Gold Fields may perhaps afford to many; and
although the time of my residence in the colonies was short, I had the
advantage (not only in Melbourne, but whilst in the bush) of constant
intercourse with many experienced diggers and old colonists--thus
having every facility for acquiring information respecting Victoria and
the other colonies.
It was in the beginning of April, 185-, that the excitement
occasioned by the published accounts of the Victoria "Diggings,"
induced my brother to fling aside his Homer and Euclid for the various
"Guides" printed for the benefit of the intending gold-seeker, or to
ponder over the shipping columns of the daily papers. The love of
adventure must be contagious, for three weeks after (so rapid were our
preparations) found myself accompanying him to those auriferous
regions. The following pages will give an accurate detail of my
adventures there--in a lack of the marvellous will consist their
principal faults but not even to please would I venture to turn
uninteresting truth into agreeable fiction. Of the few statistics which
occur, I may safely say, as of the more personal portions, that they
are strictly true.
Chapter II.
THE VOYAGE OUT
Everything was ready--boxes packed, tinned, and corded; farewells
taken, and ourselves whirling down by rail to Gravesend--too much
excited--too full of the future to experience that sickening of the
heart, that desolation of the feelings, which usually accompanies an
expatriation, however voluntary, from the dearly loved shores of one's
native land. Although in the cloudy month of April, the sun shone
brightly on the masts of our bonny bark, which lay in full sight of the
windows of the "Old Falcon," where we had taken up our temporary
quarters. The sea was very rough, but as we were anxious to get
on board without farther delay, we entrusted our valuable lives in a
four-oared boat, despite the dismal prognostications of our worthy
host. A pleasant row that was, at one moment covered over with
salt-water--the next riding on the top of a wave, ten times the size
of our frail conveyance--then came a sudden concussion--in veering
our rudder smashed into a smaller boat, which immediately filled and
sank, and our rowers disheartened at this mishap would go no farther.
The return was still rougher--my face smarted dreadfully from the
cutting splashes of the salt-water; they contrived, however, to land us
safely at the "Old Falcon," though in a most pitiable plight; charging
only a sovereign for this delightful trip--very moderate, considering
the number of salt-water baths they had given us gratis. In the evening
a second trial proved more successful, and we reached our vessel
safely.
A first night on board ship has in it something very strange, and the
first awakening in the morning is still more so. To find oneself in a
space
| 360.137116 | 1,720 |
2023-11-16 18:21:46.8311190
| 238 | 14 |
Produced by 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.)
NOT QUITE EIGHTEEN.
[Illustration: The fox stared at her, and she stared back at the
fox.--PAGE 16.]
NOT QUITE EIGHTEEN.
BY SUSAN COOLIDGE,
AUTHOR OF "WHAT KATY DID," "THE NEW YEAR'S BARGAIN,"
"THE BARBERRY BUSH," "A GUERNSEY LILY,"
"IN THE HIGH VALLEY," ETC.
BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1894.
_Copyright, 1894_,
BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I. HOW BUNNY BROUGHT GOOD LUCK 7
II. A BIT OF WILFULNESS 30
III
| 360.150529 | 1,721 |
2023-11-16 18:21:47.2609820
| 1,146 | 396 |
Produced by Paul Murray, Rene Anderson Benitz and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Note:
Greek words/phrases in the text are noted as +Greek text+.
OE/oe ligatures have not been retained in this version.
CRITICAL MISCELLANIES
BY
JOHN MORLEY
VOL. II.
Essay 3: Condorcet
London
MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
New York: The MacMillan Company
1905
CONDORCET.
Condorcet's peculiar position and characteristics 163
Birth, instruction, and early sensibility 166
Friendship with Voltaire and with Turgot 170, 171
Compared with these two great men 172
Currents of French opinion and circumstance in 1774 177
Condorcet's principles drawn from two sources 180
His view of the two English Revolutions 181
His life up to the convocation of the States-General 183
Energetic interest in the elections 189
Want of prevision 191
His participation in political activity down to the
end of 1792 193
Chosen one of the secretaries of the Legislative Assembly 198
Elected to the Convention 200
Resistance to the Jacobins, proscription, and death 201
Condorcet's tenacious interest in human welfare 210
Two currents of thought in France at the middle of
the eighteenth century 215
Quesnay and the Physiocrats 216
Montesquieu 219
Turgot completed Montesquieu's historical conception 222
Kant's idea of a Universal or Cosmo-Political History 226
Condorcet fuses the conceptions of the two previous
sets of thinkers 229
Account of his _Tableau des Progres_ 230
Omits to consider history of moral improvement 233
And misinterprets the religious element 234
His view of Mahometanism 238
Of Protestantism 240
And of philosophic propagandism 241
Various acute remarks in his sketch 243
His boundless hopes for the future 244
Three directions which our anticipations may take:--
(1) International equality 246
(2) Internal equality 247
(3) Substantial perfecting of nature and society 248
Natural view of the formation of character 252
Central idea of all his aspirations 253
CONDORCET.
Of the illustrious thinkers and writers who for two generations had been
actively scattering the seed of revolution in France, only Condorcet
survived to behold the first bitter ingathering of the harvest. Those
who had sown the wind were no more; he only was left to see the reaping
of the whirlwind, and to be swiftly and cruelly swept away by it.
Voltaire and Diderot, Rousseau and Helvetius, had vanished, but
Condorcet both assisted at the Encyclopaedia and sat in the Convention;
the one eminent man of those who had tended the tree, who also came in
due season to partake of its fruit; at once a precursor, and a sharer in
the fulfilment. In neither character has he attracted the goodwill of
any of those considerable sections and schools into which criticism of
the Revolution has been mainly divided. As a thinker he is roughly
classed as an Economist, and as a practical politician he figured first
in the Legislative Assembly, and then in the Convention. Now, as a rule,
the political parties that have most admired the Convention have had
least sympathy with the Economists, and the historians who are most
favourable to Turgot and his followers, are usually most hostile to the
actions and associations of the great revolutionary chamber successively
swayed by a Vergniaud, a Danton, a Robespierre. Between the two,
Condorcet's name has been allowed to lie hidden for the most part in a
certain obscurity, or else has been covered with those taunts and
innuendoes, which partisans are wont to lavish on men of whom they do
not know exactly whether they are with or against them.
Generally the men of the Revolution are criticised in blocks and
sections, and Condorcet cannot be accurately placed under any of these
received schools. He was an Economist, but he was something more; for
the most characteristic article in his creed was a passionate belief in
the infinite perfectibility of human nature. He was more of a Girondin
than a Jacobin, yet he did not always act, any more than he always
thought, with the Girondins, and he did not fall when they fell, but was
proscribed by a decree specially levelled at himself. Isolation of this
kind is assuredly no merit in political action, but it explains the
coldness with which Condorcet's memory has been treated; it flowed from
some marked singularities both of character and opinion which are of the
highest interest, if we consider the position of the man and the lustre
of that ever-memorable time. 'Condorcet,' said D'Alembert, 'is a volcano
covered with
| 360.580392 | 1,722 |
2023-11-16 18:21:47.3240970
| 4,090 | 61 |
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/American Libraries.)
THE OXFORD BOOK OF
AMERICAN ESSAYS
CHOSEN BY
BRANDER MATTHEWS
Professor in Columbia University
Member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters
NEW YORK
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
AMERICAN BRANCH: 35 WEST 32ND STREET
LONDON, TORONTO, MELBOURNE, AND BOMBAY
HUMPHREY MILFORD
1914
_ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_
_Copyright_, 1914
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
AMERICAN BRANCH
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION v
THE EPHEMERA: AN EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE 1
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790).
THE WHISTLE 4
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790).
DIALOGUE BETWEEN FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT 7
Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790).
CONSOLATION FOR THE OLD BACHELOR 15
Francis Hopkinson (1737-1791).
JOHN BULL 21
Washington Irving (1783-1859).
THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE 34
Washington Irving (1783-1859).
KEAN'S ACTING 47
Richard Henry Dana (1787-1879).
GIFTS 62
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882).
USES OF GREAT MEN 67
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882).
BUDS AND BIRD-VOICES 88
Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864).
THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMPOSITION 99
Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849).
BREAD AND THE NEWSPAPER 114
Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894).
WALKING 128
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862).
ON A CERTAIN CONDESCENSION IN FOREIGNERS 166
James Russell Lowell (1819-1891).
PREFACE TO "LEAVES OF GRASS" 194
Walt Whitman (1819-1892).
AMERICANISM IN LITERATURE 213
Thomas Wentworth Higginson (1823-1911).
THACKERAY IN AMERICA 229
George William Curtis (1824-1892).
OUR MARCH TO WASHINGTON 241
Theodore Winthrop (1828-1861).
CALVIN (A Study of Character) 268
Charles Dudley Warner (1829-1900).
FIVE AMERICAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO CIVILIZATION 280
Charles William Eliot (1834- ).
I TALK OF DREAMS 308
William Dean Howells (1837- ).
AN IDYL OF THE HONEY-BEE 331
John Burroughs (1837- ).
CUT-OFF COPPLES'S 351
Clarence King (1842-1901).
THE THEATRE FRANCAIS 368
Henry James (1843- ).
THEOCRITUS ON CAPE COD 394
Hamilton Wright Mabie (1846- ).
COLONIALISM IN THE UNITED STATES 410
Henry Cabot Lodge (1850- ).
NEW YORK AFTER PARIS 440
William Crary Brownell (1851- ).
THE TYRANNY OF THINGS 467
Edward Sandford Martin (1856- ).
FREE TRADE VS. PROTECTION IN LITERATURE 475
Samuel McChord Crothers (1857- ).
DANTE AND THE BOWERY 480
Theodore Roosevelt (1858- ).
THE REVOLT OF THE UNFIT 489
Nicholas Murray Butler (1862- ).
ON TRANSLATING THE ODES OF HORACE 497
William Peterfield Trent (1862- ).
INTRODUCTION
The customary antithesis between "American" literature and "English"
literature is unfortunate and misleading in that it seems to exclude
American authors from the noble roll of those who have contributed to
the literature of our mother-tongue. Of course, when we consider it
carefully we cannot fail to see that the literature of a language is one
and indivisible and that the nativity or the domicile of those who make
it matters nothing. Just as Alexandrian literature is Greek, so American
literature is English; and as Theocritus demands inclusion in any
account of Greek literature, so Thoreau cannot be omitted from any
history of English literature as a whole. The works of Anthony Hamilton
and Rousseau, Mme. de Stael and M. Maeterlinck are not more indisputably
a part of the literature of the French language than the works of
Franklin and Emerson, of Hawthorne and Poe are part of the literature of
the English language. Theocritus may never have set foot on the soil of
Greece, and Thoreau never adventured himself on the Atlantic to visit
the island-home of his ancestors; yet the former expressed himself in
Greek and the latter in English,--and how can either be neglected in any
comprehensive survey of the literature of his own tongue?
None the less is it undeniable that there is in Franklin and Emerson, in
Walt Whitman and Mark Twain, whatever their mastery of the idiom they
inherited in common with Steele and Carlyle, with Browning and Lamb, an
indefinable and intangible flavor which distinguishes the first group
from the second. The men who have set down the feelings and the
thoughts, the words and the deeds of the inhabitants of the United
States have not quite the same outlook on life that we find in the men
who have made a similar record in the British Isles. The social
atmosphere is not the same on the opposite shores of the Western ocean;
and the social organization is different in many particulars. For all
that American literature is,--in the apt phrase of Mr. Howells,--"a
condition of English literature," nevertheless it is also distinctively
American. American writers are as loyal to the finer traditions of
English literature as British writers are; they take an equal pride that
they are also heirs of Chaucer and Dryden and subjects of King
Shakspere; yet they cannot help having the note of their own
nationality.
Green, when he came to the Fourth of July, 1776, declared that
thereafter the history of the English-speaking people flowed in two
currents; and it is equally obvious that the stream of English
literature has now two channels. The younger and the smaller is
American--and what can we call the older and the ampler except British?
A century ago there were published collections entitled the _British
Poets_, the _British Novelists_, and the _British Essayists_; and the
adjective was probably then chosen to indicate that these gatherings
included the work of Scotch and Irish writers. Whatever the reason, the
choice was happy; and the same adjective would serve to indicate now
that the selections excluded the work of American writers. The British
branch of English literature is the richer and the more various; yet the
American branch has its own richness and its own variety, even if these
qualities have revealed themselves only in the past hundred years.
It may be noted also that although American literature has not been
adorned by so great a galaxy of brilliant names as illumined British
literature in the nineteenth century, it has had the good fortune to
possess more authors of cosmopolitan fame than can be found in the
German literature of the past hundred years, in the Italian, or in the
Spanish. A forgotten American essayist once asserted that "foreign
nations are a contemporaneous posterity," and even if this smart saying
is not to be taken too literally, it has its significance. There is
therefore food for thought in the fact that at least half a dozen, not
to say half a score, of American authors have won wide popularity
outside the limits of their own language,--a statement which could not
be made of as many German or Italian or Spanish authors of the
nineteenth century. From the death of Goethe to the arrival of the
playwrights of the present generation, perhaps Heine is the sole German
writer either of prose or of verse who has established his reputation
broadly among the readers of other tongues than his own. And not more
than one or two Spanish or Italian authors have been received even by
their fellow Latins, as warmly as the French and the Germans have
welcomed Cooper and Poe, Emerson and Mark Twain.
It is to present typical and characteristic examples of the American
contribution to English literature in the essay-form that this volume
has been prepared. Perhaps the term "essay-form" is not happily chosen
since the charm of the essay lies in the fact that it is not formal,
that it may be whimsical in its point of departure, and capricious in
its ramblings after it has got itself under way. Even the Essay is
itself a chameleon, changing color while we study it. There is little in
common between Locke's austere _Essay on the Human Understanding_ and
Lamb's fantastic and frolicsome essay on _Roast Pig_. He would be bold
indeed who should take compass and chain to measure off the precise
territory of the Essay and to mark with scientific exactness the
boundaries which separate it from the Address on the one side and from
the Letter on the other.
"Some (there are) that turn over all books and are equally searching in
all papers," said Ben Jonson; "that write out of what they presently
find or meet, without choice.... Such are all the Essayists, ever their
master Montaigne." Bacon and Emerson followed in the footsteps of
Montaigne, and present us with the results of their browsings among
books and of their own dispersed meditations. In their hands the essay
lacks cohesion and unity; it is essentially discursive. Montaigne never
stuck to his text, when he had one; and the paragraphs of any of
Emerson's essays might be shuffled without increasing their fortuitous
discontinuity.
After Montaigne and Bacon came Steele and Addison, in whose hands the
essay broadened its scope and took on a new aspect. The eighteenth
century essay is so various that it may be accepted as the forerunner of
the nineteenth century magazine, with its character-sketches and its
brief tales, its literary and dramatic criticism, its obituary
commemorations and its serial stories--for what but a serial story is
the succession of papers devoted to the sayings and doings of Sir Roger?
It was a new departure, although the writers of the _Tatler_ and of the
_Spectator_ had profited by the _Conversations_ of Walton and by the
_Characters_ of La Bruyere, by the epistles of Horace and by the
comedies of Moliere. (Has it ever been pointed out that the method of
Steele and Addison in depicting Sir Roger is curiously akin to the
method of Moliere in presenting M. Jourdain?)
The delightful form of poetry which we call by a French name, _vers de
societe,_ (although it has flourished more abundantly in English
literature than in French) and which Mr. Austin Dobson, one of its
supreme masters, prefers to call by Cowper's term, "familiar verse," may
be accepted as the metrical equivalent of the prose essay as this was
developed and expanded by the English writers of the eighteenth century.
And as the familiar verse of our language is ampler and richer than that
of any other tongue, so also is the familiar essay. Indeed, the essay is
one of the most characteristic expressions of the quality of our race.
In its ease and its lightness and its variety, it is almost unthinkable
in German; and even in French it is far less frequent than in English
and far less assiduously cultivated.
As Emerson trod in the footsteps of Bacon so Washington Irving walked in
the trail blazed by Steele and Addison and Goldsmith; and Franklin
earlier, although his essays are in fact only letters, had revealed his
possession of the special quality the essay demands,--the playful wisdom
of a man of the world who is also a man of letters. Indeed, Dr. Franklin
was far better fitted to shine as an essayist than his more ponderous
contemporary, Dr. Johnson; certainly Franklin would never have "made
little fishes talk like whales." And in the nineteenth century the
American branch of English literature has had a group of essayists less
numerous than that which adorned the British branch, but not less
interesting or less important to their own people.
Among these American essayists we may find all sorts and conditions of
writers,--poets adventuring themselves in prose, novelists eschewing
story-telling, statesmen turning for a moment to matters of less weight,
men of science and men of affairs chatting about themselves and airing
their opinions at large. In their hands, as in the hands of their
British contemporaries, the essay remains infinitely various, refusing
to conform to any single type, and insisting on being itself and on
expressing its author. We find in the best of these American essayists
the familiar style and the everyday vocabulary, the apparent simplicity
and the seeming absence of effort, the horror of pedantry and the scorn
of affectation, which are the abiding characteristics of the true essay.
We find also the flavor of good talk, of the sprightly conversation that
may sparkle in front of a wood fire and that often vanishes with the
curling blue smoke.
It is the bounden duty of every maker of an anthology to set forth the
principles that have guided him in the choice of the examples he is
proffering to the public. The present editor has excluded purely
literary criticism, as not quite falling within the boundaries of the
essay, properly so-called. Then he has avoided all set orations,
although he has not hesitated to include more than one paper originally
prepared to be read aloud by its writer, because these examples seemed
to him to fall within the boundaries of the essay. (Nearly all of
Emerson's essays, it may be noted, had been lectures in an early stage
of their existence.) Furthermore he has omitted all fiction, strictly to
be so termed, although he would gladly have welcomed an apologue like
Mark Twain's "Traveling with a Reformer," which is essentially an essay
despite its use of dialogue. He has included also Franklin's "Dialogue
with the Gout," which is instinct with the true spirit of the essay; and
he has accepted as essays Franklin's "Ephemera" and "The Whistle,"
although they were both of them letters to the same lady. As the essay
flowers out of leisure and out of culture, and as there has been in the
United States no long background of easy tranquillity, there is in the
American branch of English literature a relative deficiency in certain
of the lighter forms of the essay more abundantly represented in the
British branch; and therefore the less frequent examples of these
lighter forms have here been companioned by graver discussions, never
grave enough, however, to be described as disquisitions. Finally, every
selection is presented entire, except that Dana's paper on Kean's acting
has been shorn of a needless preparatory note.
BRANDER MATTHEWS.
[The essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Oliver
Wendell Holmes, Henry D. Thoreau, Thomas Wentworth Higginson,
Charles Dudley Warner, and John Burroughs, are used by permission
of, and by arrangement with, The Houghton Mifflin Company, the
authorized publishers of their works. The essays by George William
Curtis and by William Dean Howells are used by permission of Harper
and Brothers. The essays by William Crary Brownell, Edward Sanford
Martin, Nicholas Murray Butler, and Theodore Roosevelt are printed
by permission of Charles Scribner's Sons, the essay by Charles
William Eliot by permission of The Century Company, and that by
Henry James by permission of The Macmillan Company.]
THE EPHEMERA: AN EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE
TO MADAME BRILLON, OF PASSY
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
You may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately spent that happy
day in the delightful garden and sweet society of the Moulin Joly, I
stopped a little in one of our walks, and stayed some time behind the
company. We had been shown numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly,
called an ephemera, whose successive generations, we were told, were
bred and expired within the day. I happened to see a living company of
them on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation. You know I
understand all the inferior animal tongues. My too great application to
the study of them is the best excuse I can give for the little progress
I have made in your charming language. I listened through curiosity to
the discourse of these little creatures; but as they, in their national
vivacity, spoke three or four together, I could make but little of their
conversation. I found, however, by some broken expressions that I heard
now and then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of two foreign
musicians, one a _cousin_, the other a _moscheto_; in which dispute they
spent their time, seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life as if
they had been sure of living a month. Happy people! thought I; you are
certainly under a wise, just, and mild government, since you have no
public grievances to complain of, nor any subject of contention but the
perfections and imperfections of foreign music. I turned my head from
them to an old gray-headed one, who was single on another leaf, and
talking to himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, I put it down in
writing, in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom I am so much
indebted for the most pleasing of all amusements, her delicious company
and heavenly harmony.
"It was," said he, "the opinion of learned philosophers of our race, who
lived and flourished long before my time, that this vast world, the
Moulin Joly, could not itself subsist more than eighteen hours; and I
think there was some foundation for that opinion, since, by the apparent
motion of the great
| 360.643507 | 1,723 |
2023-11-16 18:21:47.6418720
| 1,048 | 396 |
Produced by David Widger
THE DIVINE COMEDY
THE VISION
OF
HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE
BY
DANTE ALIGHIERI
PARADISE
Complete
TRANSLATED BY
THE REV. H. F. CARY, M.A.
PARADISE
LIST OF CANTOS
Canto 1
Canto 2
Canto 3
Canto 4
Canto 5
Canto 6
Canto 7
Canto 8
Canto 9
Canto 10
Canto 11
Canto 12
Canto 13
Canto 14
Canto 15
Canto 16
Canto 17
Canto 18
Canto 19
Canto 20
Canto 21
Canto 22
Canto 23
Canto 24
Canto 25
Canto 26
Canto 27
Canto 28
Canto 29
Canto 30
Canto 31
Canto 32
Canto 33
CANTO I
His glory, by whose might all things are mov'd,
Pierces the universe, and in one part
Sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less. In heav'n,
That largeliest of his light partakes, was I,
Witness of things, which to relate again
Surpasseth power of him who comes from thence;
For that, so near approaching its desire
Our intellect is to such depth absorb'd,
That memory cannot follow. Nathless all,
That in my thoughts I of that sacred realm
Could store, shall now be matter of my song.
Benign Apollo! this last labour aid,
And make me such a vessel of thy worth,
As thy own laurel claims of me belov'd.
Thus far hath one of steep Parnassus' brows
Suffic'd me; henceforth there is need of both
For my remaining enterprise Do thou
Enter into my bosom, and there breathe
So, as when Marsyas by thy hand was dragg'd
Forth from his limbs unsheath'd. O power divine!
If thou to me of shine impart so much,
That of that happy realm the shadow'd form
Trac'd in my thoughts I may set forth to view,
Thou shalt behold me of thy favour'd tree
Come to the foot, and crown myself with leaves;
For to that honour thou, and my high theme
Will fit me. If but seldom, mighty Sire!
To grace his triumph gathers thence a wreath
Caesar or bard (more shame for human wills
Deprav'd) joy to the Delphic god must spring
From the Pierian foliage, when one breast
Is with such thirst inspir'd. From a small spark
Great flame hath risen: after me perchance
Others with better voice may pray, and gain
From the Cirrhaean city answer kind.
Through diver passages, the world's bright lamp
Rises to mortals, but through that which joins
Four circles with the threefold cross, in best
Course, and in happiest constellation set
He comes, and to the worldly wax best gives
Its temper and impression. Morning there,
Here eve was by almost such passage made;
And whiteness had o'erspread that hemisphere,
Blackness the other part; when to the left
I saw Beatrice turn'd, and on the sun
Gazing, as never eagle fix'd his ken.
As from the first a second beam is wont
To issue, and reflected upwards rise,
E'en as a pilgrim bent on his return,
So of her act, that through the eyesight pass'd
Into my fancy, mine was form'd; and straight,
Beyond our mortal wont, I fix'd mine eyes
Upon the sun. Much is allowed us there,
That here exceeds our pow'r; thanks to the place
Made for the dwelling of the human kind
I suffer'd it not long, and yet so long
That I beheld it bick'ring sparks around,
As iron that comes boiling from the fire.
And suddenly upon the day appear'd
A day new-ris'n, as he, who hath the power,
Had with another sun bedeck'd the sky.
Her eyes fast fix'd on the eternal wheels,
Beatrice stood unmov'd; and I with ken
Fix'd upon her, from upward gaze remov'd
At her aspect, such inwardly became
As Glaucus, when he tasted of the herb,
That made him peer among the ocean gods;
Words may not tell of that transhuman change:
And therefore let the example serve, though weak,
For those whom grace hath better proof in store
If I were only what thou didst create,
Then newly, Love! by whom the heav'n is rul'd,
Thou know'st, who by thy
| 360.961282 | 1,724 |
2023-11-16 18:21:47.6649780
| 1,040 | 414 |
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Taavi Kalju and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
LIFE
OF
LORD BYRON:
WITH HIS LETTERS AND JOURNALS.
BY THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.
IN SIX VOLUMES.--VOL. V.
NEW EDITION.
LONDON: JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1854.
CONTENTS OF VOL. V.
LETTERS AND JOURNALS OF LORD BYRON, WITH NOTICES OF HIS LIFE, from
October, 1820, to November, 1822.
NOTICES
OF THE
LIFE OF LORD BYRON.
LETTER 394. TO MR. MOORE.
"Ravenna, October 17. 1820.
"You owe me two letters--pay them. I want to know what you are
about. The summer is over, and you will be back to Paris. Apropos
of Paris, it was not Sophia _Gail_, but Sophia _Gay_--the English
word _Gay_--who was my correspondent.[1] Can you tell who she is,
as you did of the defunct * *?
"Have you gone on with your Poem? I have received the French of
mine. Only think of being _traduced_ into a foreign language in
such an abominable travesty! It is useless to rail, but one can't
help it.
"Have you got my Memoir copied? I have begun a continuation. Shall
I send it you, as far as it is gone?
"I can't say any thing to you about Italy, for the Government here
look upon me with a suspicious eye, as I am well informed. Pretty
fellows!--as if I, a solitary stranger, could do any mischief. It
is because I am fond of rifle and pistol shooting, I believe; for
they took the alarm at the quantity of cartridges I consumed,--the
wiseacres!
"You don't deserve a long letter--nor a letter at all--for your
silence. You have got a new Bourbon, it seems, whom they have
christened 'Dieu-donne;'--perhaps the honour of the present may be
disputed. Did you write the good lines on ----, the Laker? * *
"The Queen has made a pretty theme for the journals. Was there ever
such evidence published? Why, it is worse than 'Little's Poems' or
'Don Juan.' If you don't write soon, I will'make you a speech.'
Yours," &c.
[Footnote 1: I had mistaken the name of the lady he enquired after, and
reported her to him as dead. But, on the receipt of the above letter, I
discovered that his correspondent was Madame Sophie Gay, mother of the
celebrated poetess and beauty, Mademoiselle Delphine Gay.]
* * * * *
LETTER 395. TO MR. MURRAY.
"Ravenna, 8bre 25 deg., 1820.
"Pray forward the enclosed to Lady Byron. It is on business.
"In thanking you for the Abbot, I made four grand mistakes, Sir
John Gordon was not of Gight, but of Bogagicht, and a son of
Huntley's. He suffered _not_ for his loyalty, but in an
insurrection. He had _nothing_ to do with Loch Leven, having been
dead some time at the period of the Queen's confinement: and,
fourthly, I am not sure that he was the Queen's paramour or no, for
Robertson does not allude to this, though _Walter Scott does_, in
the list he gives of her admirers (as unfortunate) at the close of
'The Abbot.'
"I must have made all these mistakes in recollecting my mother's
account of the matter, although she was more accurate than I am,
being precise upon points of genealogy, like all the aristocratical
Scotch. She had a long list of ancestors, like Sir Lucius
O'Trigger's, most of whom are to be found in the old Scotch
Chronicles, Spalding, &c. in arms and doing mischief. I remember
well passing Loch Leven, as well as the Queen's Ferry: we were on
our way to England in 1798.
"Yours.
"You had better not publish Blackwood and the Roberts' prose,
except what regards Pope;--you have let the time slip by."
* * * * *
The Pamphlet in answer
| 360.984388 | 1,725 |
2023-11-16 18:21:47.7427830
| 4,076 | 48 |
Produced by Distributed Proofreaders
SELECTIONS FROM POE
Edited with Biographical and Critical Introduction and Notes
BY
J. MONTGOMERY GAMBRILL
Head of the Department of History and Civics
Baltimore Polytechnic Institute
INSCRIBED TO THE POE AND LOWELL LITERARY SOCIETIES OF THE
BALTIMORE POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE
[Illustration: EDGAR ALLAN POE. After an engraving by Cole]
PREFACE
Edgar Allan Poe has been the subject of so much controversy that he is
the one American writer whom high-school pupils (not to mention
teachers) are likely to approach with ready-made prejudices. It is
impossible to treat such a subject in quite the ordinary
matter-of-course way. Furthermore, his writings are so highly
subjective, and so intimately connected with his strongly held
critical theories, as to need somewhat careful and extended study.
These facts make it very difficult to treat either the man or his art
as simply as is desirable in a secondary text-book. Consequently the
Introduction is longer and less simple than the editor would desire
for the usual text. It is believed, however, that the teacher can take
up this Introduction with the pupil in such a way as to make it
helpful, significant, and interesting.
The text of the following poems and tales is that of the
Stedman-Woodberry edition (described in the Bibliography, p. xxx), and
the selections are reprinted by permission of the publishers, Duffield
& Company; this text is followed exactly except for a very few changes
in punctuation, not more than five or six in all. My obligations to
other works are too numerous to mention; all the publications included
in the Bibliography, besides a number of others, have been examined,
but I especially desire to acknowledge the courtesy of Dr. Henry
Barton Jacobs of Baltimore, who sent me from Paris a copy of Émile
Lauvrière's interesting and important study, "Edgar Poe: Sa vie et son
oeuvre; étude de psychologie pathologique." To my wife I am indebted
for valuable assistance in the tedious work of reading proofs and
verifying the text.
CONTENTS
PREFACE
INTRODUCTION
BIBLIOGRAPHY
POEMS
SONG
SPIRITS OF THE DEAD
TO ----
ROMANCE
TO THE RIVER
TO SCIENCE
TO HELEN
ISRAFEL
THE CITY IN THE SEA
THE SLEEPER
LENORE
THE VALLEY OF UNREST
THE COLISEUM
HYMN
TO ONE IN PARADISE
TO F----
TO F----S S. O----D
TO ZANTE
BRIDAL BALLAD
SILENCE
THE CONQUEROR WORM
DREAM-LAND
THE RAVEN
EULALIE
TO M.L. S----
ULALUME
TO ---- ----
AN ENIGMA
TO HELEN
A VALENTINE
FOR ANNIE
THE BELLS
ANNABEL LEE
TO MY MOTHER
ELDORADO
THE HAUNTED PALACE
TALES
THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER
WILLIAM WILSON
A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTRÖM
THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH
THE GOLD-BUG
THE PURLOINED LETTER
NOTES
INTRODUCTION
EDGAR ALLAN POE: HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND ART
Edgar Allan Poe is in many respects the most fascinating figure in
American literature. His life, touched by the extremes of fortune, was
on the whole more unhappy than that of any other of our prominent men
of letters. His character was strangely complex, and was the subject
of misunderstanding during his life and of heated dispute after his
death; his writings were long neglected or disparaged at home, while
accepted abroad as our greatest literary achievement. Now, after more
than half a century has elapsed since his death, careful biographers
have furnished a tolerably full account of the real facts about his
life; a fairly accurate idea of his character is winning general
acceptance; and the name of Edgar Allan Poe has been conceded a place
among the two or three greatest in our literature.
LIFE AND CHARACTER
In December, 1811, a well-known actress of the time died in Richmond,
leaving destitute three little children, the eldest but four years of
age. This mother, who was Elizabeth (Arnold) Poe, daughter of an
English actress, had suffered from ill health for several years and
had long found the struggle for existence difficult. Her husband,
David Poe, probably died before her; he was a son of General David
Poe, a Revolutionary veteran of Baltimore, and had left his home and
law books for the stage several years before his marriage. The second
of the three children, born January 19, 1809, in Boston, where his
parents happened to be playing at the time, was Edgar Poe, the future
poet and story-writer. The little Edgar was adopted by the wife of
Mr. John Allan, a well-to-do Scotch merchant of the city, who later
became wealthy, and the boy was thereafter known as Edgar Allan
Poe. He was a beautiful and precocious child, who at six years of age
could read, draw, dance, and declaim the best poetry with fine effect
and appreciation; report says, also, that he had been taught to stand
on a chair and pledge Mr. Allan's guests in a glass of wine with
"roguish grace."
In 1815 Mr. Allan went to England, where he remained five years. Edgar
was placed in an old English school in the suburbs of London, among
historic, literary, and antiquarian associations, and possibly was
taken to the Continent by his foster parents at vacation seasons. The
English residence and the sea voyages left deep impressions on the
boy's sensitive nature. Returning to Richmond, he was prepared in good
schools for the University of Virginia, which he entered at the age of
seventeen, pursuing studies in ancient and modern languages and
literatures. During this youthful period he was already developing a
striking and peculiar personality. He was brilliant, if not
industrious, as a student, leaving the University with highest honors
in Latin and French; he was quick and nervous in his movements and
greatly excelled in athletics, especially in swimming; in character,
he was reserved, solitary, sensitive, and given to lonely reverie.
Some of his aristocratic playmates remembered to his discredit that he
was the child of strolling players, and their attitude helped to add a
strain of defiance to an already intensely proud nature. Though kindly
treated by his foster parents, this strange boy longed for an
understanding sympathy that was not his. Once he thought he had found
it in Mrs. Jane Stannard, mother of a schoolmate; but the new friend
soon died, and for months the grief-stricken boy, it is said, haunted
the lonely grave at night and brooded over his loss and the mystery of
death--a not very wholesome experience for a lonely and melancholy lad
of fifteen years.
At the University he drank wine, though not intemperately, and played
cards a great deal, the end of the term finding him with gambling
debts of twenty-five hundred dollars. These habits were common at the
time, and Edgar did not incur any censure from the faculty; but
Mr. Allan declined to honor the gambling debt, removed Edgar, and
placed him in his own counting room. Such a life was too dull for the
high-spirited, poetic youth, and he promptly left his home.
Going to Boston, he published a thin volume of boyish verse,
"Tamerlane, and Other Poems," but realizing nothing financially,[1] he
enlisted in the United States Army as Edgar A. Perry. After two years
of faithful and efficient service, he procured through Mr. Allan (who
was temporarily reconciled to him) an appointment to the West Point
Military Academy, entering in July, 1830. In the meantime, he had
published in Baltimore a second small volume of poems. Fellow-students
have described him as having a "worn, weary, discontented look";
usually kindly and courteous, but shy, reserved, and exceedingly
sensitive; an extraordinary reader, but noted for carping criticism.
Although a good student, he seemed galled beyond endurance by the
monotonous routine of military duties, which he deliberately neglected
and thus procured his dismissal from the Academy. He left, alone and
penniless, in March, 1831.
[Footnote 1: In November, 1900, a single copy of this little volume
sold in New York for $2550.]
Going to New York, Poe brought out another little volume of poems
showing great improvement; then he went to Baltimore, and after a
precarious struggle of a year or two, turned to prose, and, while in
great poverty, won a prize of one hundred dollars from the Baltimore
_Saturday Visitor_ for his story, "The Manuscript Found in a
Bottle." Through John P. Kennedy[1], one of the judges whose
friendship the poverty-stricken author gained, he procured a good deal
of hack work, and finally an editorial position on the _Southern
Literary Messenger_, of Richmond. The salary was fair, and better
was in sight; yet Poe was melancholy, dissatisfied, and miserable. He
wrote a pitiable letter to Mr. Kennedy, asking to be convinced "that
it is at all necessary to live."
[Footnote 1: A well-known Marylander, author of "Horse-Shoe Robinson,"
"Swallow Barn," "Rob of the Bowl," and other popular novels of the
day, and later Secretary of the Navy.]
For several years he had been making his home with an aunt, Mrs.
Clemm, and her daughter, Virginia, a girl beautiful in character and
person, but penniless and probably already a victim of the consumption
that was eventually to cause her death. In 1836, when she was only
fourteen years old, Poe married his cousin, to whom he was
passionately attached. His devotion to her lasted through life, and
the tenderest affection existed between him and Mrs. Clemm, who was
all a mother could have been to him; so that the home life was always
beautiful in spirit, however poor in material comfort.
In January, 1837, his connection with the _Messenger_ was
severed, probably because of his occasional lapses from sobriety; but
his unfortunate temperament and his restless ambition were doubtless
factors. With some reputation as poet, story-writer, critic, and
editor, Poe removed to New York, and a year later to Philadelphia,
where he remained until 1844. Here he found miscellaneous literary,
editorial, and hack work, finally becoming editor of _Graham's
Magazine_, which prospered greatly under his management, increasing
its circulation from eight thousand to forty thousand within a
year. But Poe's restless spirit was dissatisfied. He was intensely
anxious to own a magazine for himself, and had already made several
unsuccessful efforts to obtain one,--efforts which were to be repeated
at intervals, and with as little success, until the day his death. He
vainly sought a government position, that a livelihood might be
assured while he carried out his literary plans. Finally he left
_Graham's_, doubtless because of personal peculiarities, since
his occasional inebriety did not interfere with his work; and there
followed a period of wretched poverty, broken once by the winning of a
prize of one hundred dollars for "The Gold Bug."
He continued to be known as a "reserved, isolated, dreamy man, of
high-strung nerves, proud spirit, and fantastic moods," with a
haunting sense of impending evil. His home was poor and simple, but
impressed every visitor by its neatness and quiet refinement;
Virginia, accomplished in music and languages, was as devoted to her
husband as he was to her. Both were fond of flowers and plants, and of
household pets. Mrs. Clemm gave herself completely to her "children"
and was the business manager of the family.
In the spring of 1844 Poe went with Virginia to New York, practically
penniless, and to Mrs. Clemm, who did not come at once, he wrote with
pathetic enthusiasm of the generous meals served at their boarding
house. He obtained a position on the _Evening Mirror_ at small
pay, but did his dull work faithfully and efficiently; later, he
became editor of the _Broadway Journal_, in which he printed
revisions of his best tales and poems. In 1845 appeared "The Raven,"
which created a profound sensation at home and abroad, and immediately
won, and has since retained, an immense popularity. He was at the
height of his fame, but poor, as always. In 1846 he published "The
Literati," critical comments on the writers of the day, in which the
literary small fry were mercilessly condemned and ridiculed. This
naturally made Poe a host of enemies. One of these, Thomas Dunn
English, published an abusive article attacking the author's
character, whereupon Poe sued him for libel and obtained two hundred
and twenty-five dollars damages.
The family now moved to a little three-room cottage at Fordham, a
quiet country place with flowers and trees and pleasant vistas; but
illness and poverty were soon there, too. In 1841 Virginia had burst
a blood vessel while singing, and her life was despaired of; this had
happened again and again, leaving her weaker each time. As the summer
and fall of this year wore away, she grew worse and needed the
tenderest care and attention. But winter drew on, and with it came
cold and hunger; the sick girl lay in an unheated room on a straw bed,
wrapped in her husband's coat, the husband and mother trying to chafe
a little warmth into her hands and feet. Some kind-hearted women
relieved the distress in a measure, but on January 30, 1847, Virginia
died. The effect on Poe was terrible. It is easy to see how a very
artist of death, who could study the dreadful stages of its slow
approach and seek to penetrate the mystery of its ultimate nature with
such intense interest and deep reflection as did Poe, must have
brooded and suffered during the years of his wife's illness. His own
health had long been poor; his brain was diseased and insanity seemed
imminent. After intense grief came a period of settled gloom and
haunting fear. The less than three years of life left for him was a
period of decline in every respect. But he remained in the little
cottage, finding some comfort in caring for his flowers and pets, and
taking long solitary rambles. During this time he thought out and
wrote "Eureka," a treatise on the structure, laws, and destiny of the
universe, which he desired to have regarded as a poem.
Poe had always felt a need for the companionship of sympathetic and
affectionate women, for whom he entertained a chivalric regard
amounting to reverence. After the shock of his wife's death had
somewhat worn away, he began to depend for sympathy upon various women
with whom he maintained romantic friendships. Judged by ordinary
standards, his conduct became at times little short of maudlin; his
correspondence showed a sort of gasping, frantic dependence upon the
sympathy and consolation of these women friends, and exhibited a
painful picture of a broken man. Mrs. Shew, one of the kind women who
had relieved the family at the time of Virginia's last illness,
strongly advised him to marry, and he did propose marriage to
Mrs. Sara Helen Whitman, a verse writer of some note in her day. After
a wild and exhausting wooing, begun in an extravagantly romantic
manner, the match was broken off through the influence of the lady's
friends. When it was all over Poe seemed very little disturbed. The
truth is, he was a wreck, and feeling utterly dependent, clutched
frantically at every hope of sympathy and consolation. His only real
love was for his dead wife, which he recorded shortly before his death
in the exquisite lyric, "Annabel Lee."
In July, 1849, full of the darkest forebodings, and predicting that he
should never return, Poe went to Richmond. Here he spent a few quiet
months, part of the time fairly cheerful, but twice yielding to the
temptation to drink, and each time suffering, in consequence, a
dangerous illness. On September 30 he left Richmond for New York with
fifteen hundred dollars, the product of a recent lecture arranged by
kind Richmond friends. What happened during the next three days is an
impenetrable mystery, but on October 3 (Wednesday) he was found in an
election booth in Baltimore, desperately ill, his money and baggage
gone. The most probable story is that he had been drugged by political
workers, imprisoned in a "coop" with similar victims, and used as a
repeater [1], this procedure being a common one at the time. Whether
he was also intoxicated is a matter of doubt. There could be but one
effect on his delicate and already diseased brain. He was taken to a
hospital unconscious, lingered several days in the delirium of a
violent brain fever, and in the early dawn of Sunday, October 7,
breathed his last.
[Footnote 1: Repeater, a person who illegally votes more than once]
The dead author's character immediately became the subject of violent
controversy. His severe critical strictures had made him many enemies
among the minor writers of the day and their friends. One of the men
who had suffered from Poe's too caustic pen was Rufus W. Griswold, but
friendly relations had been nominally established and Poe had
authorized Griswold to edit his works. This Griswold did, including a
biography which Poe's friends declared a masterpiece of malicious
distortion and misrepresentation; it certainly was grossly unfair and
inaccurate. Poe's friends retorted, and a long war of words followed,
in which hatred or prejudice on the one side and wholesale,
undiscriminating laudation on the other, alike
| 361.062193 | 1,726 |
2023-11-16 18:21:47.9851000
| 750 | 44 |
Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
DOROTHY
ON A HOUSE-BOAT
_By_
EVELYN RAYMOND
ILLUSTRATED
New York
THE PLATTE & PECK CO.
THE
DOROTHY BOOKS
By EVELYN RAYMOND
These stories of an American girl by an American author have made
"Dorothy" a household synonym for all that is fascinating. Truth and
realism are stamped on every page. The interest never flags, and is
ofttimes intense. No more happy choice can be made for gift books, so
sure are they to win approval and please not only the young in years,
but also "grown-ups" who are young in heart and spirit.
Dorothy
Dorothy at Skyrie
Dorothy's Schooling
Dorothy's Travels
Dorothy's House Party
Dorothy in California
Dorothy on a Ranch
Dorothy's House Boat
Dorothy at Oak Knowe
Dorothy's Triumph
Dorothy's Tour
_Illustrated, 12mo, Cloth
Price per Volume, 50 Cents_
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY
THE PLATT & PECK CO.
[Illustration: "EPHRAIM, DID YOU EVER LIVE IN A HOUSE-BOAT?"--P 15
_Dorothy's House-Boat_]
FOREWORD.
Those who have followed the story of Dorothy Calvert's life thus
far will remember that it has been full of interest and many
adventures--pleasant and otherwise. Beginning as a foundling left upon
the steps of a little house in Brown street, Baltimore, she was
adopted by its childless owners, a letter-carrier and his wife. When
his health failed she removed with them to the Highlands of the
Hudson. There followed her "Schooling" at a fashionable academy; her
vacation "Travels" in beautiful Nova Scotia; her "House Party" at the
home of her newly discovered great aunt, Mrs. Betty Calvert; their
winter together "In California"; a wonderful summer "On a Ranch" in
Colorado; and now the early autumn has found the old lady and the
girl once more in the ancestral home of the Calverts. Enjoying their
morning's mail in the pleasant library of old Bellvieu, they are both
astonished by the contents of one letter which offers for Dorothy's
acceptance the magnificent gift of a "House-Boat." What follows the
receipt of this letter is now to be told.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
FOREWORD 9
I. A BIG GIFT FOR A SMALL MAID 11
II. INVITATIONS TO A CRUISE OF LOVING KINDNESS 25
III. THE DIFFICULTIES OF GETTING UNDER WAY 44
IV. MATTERS ARE SETTLED 62
V. THE STORM AND WHAT FOLLOWED 76
VI. A MULE AND MELON TRANSACTION 92
VII. VISITORS 105
VIII. THE COLONEL'S REVELATION 121
IX. FISH AND MONKEYS 138
X. A MERE ANNE ARUNDEL GUST 154
XI. A MORNING CALL OF MONKEYS 165
XII. UNDER THE PERSIMMON TREE 180
XIII. WHAT LAY UNDER THE WALKING FERN
| 361.30451 | 1,727 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.0685000
| 2,279 | 85 |
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. NEWMARK
MARCO R. NEWMARK
Every generation enjoys the use of a vast hoard bequeathed
to it by antiquity, and transmits that hoard, augmented by
fresh acquisitions, to future ages. In these pursuits, therefore,
the first speculators lie under great disadvantages, and, even
when they fail, are entitled to praise.--MACAULAY.
_WITH 150 ILLUSTRATIONS_
NEW YORK
The Knickerbocker Press
1916
COPYRIGHT, 1916
BY
M. H. AND M. R. NEWMARK
To
THE MEMORY OF
MY WIFE
In Memoriam
At the hour of high twelve on April the fourth, 1916, the sun shone
into a room where lay the temporal abode, for eighty-one years and
more, of the spirit of Harris Newmark. On his face still lingered that
look of peace which betokens a life worthily used and gently
relinquished.
Many were the duties allotted him in his pilgrimage; splendidly did he
accomplish them! Providence permitted him the completion of his final
task--a labor of love--but denied him the privilege of seeing it given
to the community of his adoption.
To him and to her, by whose side he sleeps, may it be both monument
and epitaph.
_Thy will be done!_
M. H. N.
M. R. N.
INTRODUCTION
Several times during his latter years my friend, Charles Dwight
Willard, urged me to write out my recollections of the five or six
decades I had already passed in Los Angeles, expressing his regret
that many pioneers had carried from this world so much that might have
been of interest to both the Angeleno of the present and the future
historian of Southern California; but as I had always led an active
life of business or travel, and had neither fitted myself for any sort
of literary undertaking nor attempted one, I gave scant attention to
the proposal. Mr. Willard's persistency, however, together with the
prospect of cooperation offered me by my sons, finally overcame my
reluctance and I determined to commence the work.
Accordingly in June, 1913, at my Santa Monica home, I began to devote
a few hours each day to a more or less fragmentary enumeration of the
incidents of my boyhood; of my voyage over the great wastes of sea and
land between my ancestral and adopted homes; of the pueblo and its
surroundings that I found on this Western shore; of its people and
their customs; and, finally, of the men and women who, from then until
now, have contributed to the greatness of the Southland, and of the
things they have done or said to entitle their names to be recorded.
This task I finished in the early fall. During its progress I entered
more and more into the distant Past, until Memory conjured before me
many long-forgotten faces and happenings. In the end, I found that I
had jotted down a mass of notes much greater than I had expected.
Thereupon the Editors began their duties, which were to arrange the
materials at hand, to supply names and dates that had escaped me, and
to interview many who had been principals in events and, accordingly,
were presumed to know the details; and much progress was made, to the
enlarging and enrichment of the book. But it was not long before they
found that the work involved an amount of investigation which their
limited time would not permit; and that if carried out on even the
modest plan originally contemplated, some additional assistance would
be required.
Fortunately, just then they met Perry Worden, a post-graduate of
Columbia and a Doctor of Philosophy of the University of Halle,
Germany; a scholar and an author of attainments. His aid, as
investigator and adviser, has been indispensable to the completion of
the work in its present form. Dr. Worden spent many months searching
the newspapers, magazines and books--some of whose titles find special
mention in the text--which deal with Southern California and its past;
and he also interviewed many pioneers, to each of whom I owe
acknowledgment for ready and friendly cooperation. In short, no pains
was spared to confirm and amplify all the facts and narratives.
Whether to arrange the matter chronologically or not, was a problem
impossible of solution to the complete satisfaction of the Editors;
this, as well as other methods, having its advantages and
disadvantages. After mature consideration, the chronological plan was
adopted, and the events of each year have been recorded more or less
in the order of their happening. Whatever confusion, if any, may arise
through this treatment of local history as a chronicle for ready
reference will be easily overcome, it is believed, through the dating
of the chapters and the provision of a comprehensive index; while the
brief chapter-heading, generally a reference to some marked occurrence
in that period, will further assist the reader to get his bearings.
Preference has been given to the first thirty years of my residence in
Los Angeles, both on account of my affectionate remembrance of that
time and because of the peculiarity of memory in advanced life which
enables us to recall remote events when more recent ones are
forgotten; and inasmuch as so little has been handed down from the
days of the adobe, this partiality will probably find favor.
In collecting this mass of data, many discrepancies were met with,
calling for the acceptance or rejection of much long current here as
fact; and in all such cases I selected the version most closely
corresponding with my own recollection, or that seemed to me, in the
light of other facts, to be correct. For this reason, no less than
because in my narrative of hitherto unrecorded events and
personalities it would be miraculous if errors have not found their
way into the story, I shall be grateful if those who discover
inaccuracies will report them to me. In these sixty years, also, I
have met many men and women worthy of recollection, and it is certain
that there are some whose names I have not mentioned; if so, I wish to
disclaim any intentional neglect. Indeed, precisely as I have
introduced the names of a number for whom I have had no personal
liking, but whose services to the community I remember with respect,
so there are doubtless others whose activities, past or present, it
would afford me keen pleasure to note, but whom unhappily I have
overlooked.
With this brief introduction, I give the manuscript to the printer,
not with the ambitious hope of enriching literature in any respect,
but not without confidence that I have provided some new material for
the local historian--perhaps of the future--and that there may be a
goodly number of people sufficiently interested to read and enjoy the
story, yet indulgent enough to overlook the many faults in its
narration.
H. N.
LOS ANGELES,
_December 31, 1915_.
FOREWORD
The Historian no longer writes History by warming over the pancakes of
his predecessors. He must surely know what they have done, and
how--and whereby they succeeded and wherein they failed. But his own
labor is to find the sidelights they did not have. Macaulay saves him
from doing again all the research that Macaulay had to do; but if he
could find a twin Boswell or a second Pepys he would rather have
either than a dozen new Macaulays. Since history is becoming really a
Science, and is no more a closet exploration of half-digested
arm-chair books, we are beginning to learn the overwhelming value of
the contemporary witness. Even a justice's court will not admit
Hearsay Evidence; and Science has been shamed into adopting the same
sane rule. Nowadays it demands the eye-witness. We look less for the
"Authorities" now, and more for the Documents. There are too many
histories already, such as they are--self-satisfied and oracular, but
not one conclusive. Every history is put out of date, almost daily, by
the discovery of some scrap of paper or some clay tablet from under
the ashes of Babylon.
Mere Humans no longer read History--except in school where they have
to, or in study clubs where it is also Required. But a plain personal
narrative is interesting now as it has been for five thousand years.
The world's greatest book is of course compulsory; but what is the
_interesting_ part of it? Why, the stories--Adam and Eve; Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob; Saul and David and Samson and Delilah; Solomon, Job,
and Jesus the Christ! And if anyone thinks Moses worked-in a little
too much of the Family Tree--he doesn't know what biblical archaeology
is doing. For it is thanks to these same "petty" details that modern
Science, in its excavations and decipherings, has verified the Bible
and resolved many of its riddles!
Greece had one Herodotus. America had _four_, antedating the year
1600. All these truly great historians built from all the "sources"
they could find. But none of them quite give us the homely, vital
picture of life and feeling that one untaught and untamed soldier,
Bernal Diaz, wrote for us three hundred years ago when he was past
ninety, and toothless--and angry "because the historians didn't get it
straight." The student of Spanish America has often to wish there had
been a Bernal Diaz for every decade and every province
| 361.38791 | 1,728 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.4247900
| 1,037 | 373 |
Produced by Jim Liddil and PG Distributed Proofreaders
THE LONDON and COUNTRY BREWER
By Anonymous
1736
Containing an Account,
I. Of the Nature of the Barley-Corn, and of the proper Soils and
Manures for the Improvement thereof.
II. Of making good Malts.
III. To know good from bad Malts.
IV. Of the Use of the Pale, Amber, and Brown Malts.
V. Of the Nature of several Waters, and their Use in Brewing.
VI. Of Grinding Malts.
VII. Of Brewing in general.
VIII. Of the _London_ Method of Brewing Stout, But-Beer, Pale and Brown
Ales.
IX. Of the Country or Private Way of Brewing.
X. Of the Nature and Use of the Hop.
XI. Of Boiling Malt liquors, and to Brew a Quantity of Drink in a little
Room, and with a few Tubs.
XII. Of Foxing or Tainting of Malt Liquors; their Prevention and Cure.
XIII. Of Fermenting and Working of Beers and Ales, and the unwholesome
Practice of Beating in the Yeast, detected.
XIV. Of several artificial Lees for feeding, fining, preserving, and
relishing Malt Liquors.
XV. Of several pernicious Ingredients put into Malt Liquors to encrease
their Strength.
XVI. Of the Cellar or Repository for keeping Beers and Ales.
XVII. Of Sweetening and Cleaning Casks.
XVIII. Of Bunging Casks and Carrying them to some Distance.
XIX. Of the Age and Strength of Malt Liquors.
XX. Of the Profit and Pleasure of Private Brewing and the Charge of
Buying Malt Liquors.
To which is added,
XXI. A Philosophical Account of Brewing Strong _October_ Beer.
By an Ingenious Hand.
By a Person formerly concerned in a Common Brewhouse at _London_, but for
twenty Years past has resided in the Country.
The SECOND EDITION, Corrected.
LONDON
Printed for Messeurs Fox, at the _Half-Moon and Seven Stars_, in
_Westminster-Hall_. M.DCC.XXXVI.
[Price Two Shillings.]
THE PREFACE.
The many Inhabitants of Cities and Towns, as well as Travellers, that have
for a long time suffered great Prejudices from unwholsome and unpleasant
Beers and Ales, by the badness of Malts, underboiling the Worts, mixing
injurious Ingredients, the unskilfulness of the Brewer, and the great
Expense that Families have been at in buying them clogg'd with a heavy
Excise, has moved me to undertake the writing of this Treatise on Brewing,
Wherein I have endeavour'd to set in sight the many advantages of Body
and Purse that may arise from a due Knowledge and Management in Brewing
Malt Liquors, which are of the greatest Importance, as they are in a
considerable degree our Nourishment and the common Diluters of our Food;
so that on their goodness depends very much the Health and Longevity of
the Body.
This bad Economy in Brewing has brought on such a Disrepute, and made our
Malt Liquors in general so odious, that many have been constrain'd, either
to be at an Expence for better Drinks than their Pockets could afford, or
take up with a Toast and Water to avoid the too justly apprehended ill
Consequences of Drinking such Ales and Beers.
Wherefore I have given an Account of Brewing Beers and Ales after several
Methods; and also several curious Receipts for feeding, fining and
preserving Malt Liquors, that are most of them wholsomer than the Malt
itself, and so cheap that none can object against the Charge, which I
thought was the ready way to supplant the use of those unwholsome
Ingredients that have been made too free with by some ill principled
People meerly for their own Profit, tho' at the Expence of the Drinker's
Health.
_I hope I have adjusted that long wanted Method of giving a due Standard
both to the Hop and Wort, which never was yet (as I know of) rightly
ascertain'd in Print before, tho' the want of it I am perswaded has been
partly the occasion of the scarcity of good Drinks, as is at this time
very evident in most Places in the Nation. I have here also divulg'd the
Nostrum of the Artist Brewer that he has so long valued himself upon, in
making a right Judgment when
| 361.7442 | 1,729 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.5144000
| 1,156 | 390 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
Witchcraft and Superstitious Record
Witchcraft and Superstitious Record
IN THE
South-Western District of Scotland
Witchcraft Witch Trials
Fairy Lore Brownie Lore
Wraiths Warnings
Death Customs Funeral Ceremony
Ghost Lore Haunted Houses
BY J. MAXWELL WOOD, M.B.
_Author of "Smuggling in the Solway and
Around the Galloway Sea-board"_
_Editor of "The Gallovidian," 1900-1911_
_Illustrated from Special Drawings by John
Copland, Esq., Dundrenna_
DUMFRIES: J. MAXWELL & SON
1911
"For she's gathered witch dew in the Kells kirkyard,
In the mirk how of the moon,
And fed hersel' wi' th' wild witch milk
With a red-hot burning spoon."
--_M'Lehan._
[Illustration]
_To_ Alison Jean Maxwell Wood
_A "witch" of my most intimate acquaintance_
PREFACE.
Throughout Dumfriesshire and Galloway remnants of old-world customs still
linger, suggesting a remoter time, when superstitious practice and belief
held all-important sway in the daily round and task of the people.
In gathering together the available material bearing upon such matters,
more particularly in the direction of witchcraft, fairy-lore, death
warnings, funeral ceremony and ghost story, the author trusts that by
recording the results of his gleanings much as they have been received,
and without at all attempting to subject them to higher analysis or
criticism, a truer aspect and reflection of the influence of superstition
upon the social life of those older days, may be all the more adequately
presented.
112 GEORGE STREET, EDINBURGH,
August 9th, 1911.
CONTENTS.
_Page._
CHAPTER I.
Traditional Witchcraft Described 1
CHAPTER II.
Witch Narrative 21
CHAPTER III.
Witchcraft Trials and Persecution 66
CHAPTER IV.
Fairies and Brownies 142
CHAPTER V.
Wraiths and Warnings 198
CHAPTER VI.
Death Customs and Funeral Ceremony 216
CHAPTER VII.
Ghost Lore and Haunted Houses 244
APPENDIX.
(_a_) Surprising Story of the Devil of Glenluce 302
(_b_) A True Relation of an Apparition which Infested
the house of Andrew Mackie, Ringcroft of Stocking,
Parish of Rerwick, etc. 321
(_c_) The Laird o' Coul's Ghost 344
ILLUSTRATIONS.
_Page._
The Witches' Ride 4
"And Perish'd Mony a Bonny Boat" 12
The Carlin's Cairn 35
A Witch-Brew and Incantation 38
"A Running Stream they dare na cross" 69
A Witch Trial 85
The Burning of the Nine Women on the Sands of Dumfries,
April 13th, 1659 114
Penance 125
"In Fairy Glade" 152
"Riddling in the Reek" 167
An Eerie Companion 206
"Deid Lichts" 211
Funeral Hospitality 222
A Galloway Funeral of Other Days 238
The Headless Piper of Patiesthorn 266
The Ghost of Buckland Glen 271
"To Tryst with Lag" 280
Ringcroft of Stocking 324
TAIL-PIECES.
_Page._
A Threefold Charm 'gainst Evil 20
Witch Stool and Brooms 65
Witch Cauldron, Ducking Stool, and Stake 141
To Kep Skaith 197
A Midnight Revel 215
Haunted 243
WITCHCRAFT AND SUPERSTITIOUS RECORD IN THE SOUTH-WESTERN DISTRICT OF
SCOTLAND.
_CHAPTER I._
TRADITIONAL WITCHCRAFT DESCRIBED.
"When out the hellish legion sallied."
--_Tam o' Shanter._
In the far-off days, when Superstition, in close association with the
"evil sister" of Ignorance, walked abroad in the land, the south-western
district of Scotland shared very largely in the beliefs and terrors
embraced under the general descriptive term of witchcraft. Active
interference in the routine of daily life on the part of the Prince of
Darkness and his agencies was fully believed in. The midnight ride, the
power of conversion into animal semblance and form, mystic rite and
incantation, spells and cantrips, as well as the presence on earth of the
Devil himself, who generally appeared in some all
| 361.83381 | 1,730 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.6395630
| 4,721 | 59 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
The Colonial Cavalier
Or
Southern Life Before
the Revolution
By Maud Wilder Goodwin
Illustrated by
Harry Edwards
New York
Lovell, Coryell & Company
1894
COPYRIGHT, 1894,
BY
UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY.
_All Rights Reserved._
Contents
PAGE
Preface, 7
His Home, 13
Sweethearts and Wives, 43
His Dress, 73
News, Trade and Travel, 97
His Friends and Foes, 125
His Amusements, 141
His Man-Servants and His Maid-Servants, 165
His Church, 189
His Education, 221
Laws, Punishments and Politics, 243
Sickness and Death, 273
The Colonial Cavalier
Preface
Two great forces have contributed to the making of the Anglo-American
character. The types, broadly classed in England as Puritan and Cavalier,
repeated themselves in the New World. On the bleak Massachusetts coast,
the Puritan emigrants founded a race as rugged as their environment.
Driven by the force of compelling conscience from their homes, they came
to the new land, at once pilgrims and pioneers, to rear altars and found
homes in the primeval forest. It was not freedom of worship alone they
sought, but their own way. They found it and kept it. Such a race produced
a strong and hardy type of manhood, admirable if not always lovable.
But there was another force at work, moulding the national character, a
force as persistent, a type as intense as the Puritan's own, and its exact
opposite. The men who settled the Southern Colonies, Virginia, Maryland,
and the Carolinas, were Cavaliers; not necessarily in blood, or even in
loyalty to the Stuart cause, but Cavalier in sympathies, in the general
view of life, in virtues and vices. So far as the provinces could
represent the mother country, Virginia and Maryland reflected the
Cavaliers, as Massachusetts and Connecticut reflected the Puritans.
Their settlers came, impelled by no religious motives, and driven by no
persecution. They lacked, therefore, the bond of a common enthusiasm and
the still stronger tie of a common antipathy. Above all, they lacked the
town-meeting. Separated by the necessities of plantation life, they formed
a series of tiny kingdoms rather than a democratic community. To the
Puritan, the village life of Scrooby and its like was familiar and
therefore dear; but to the Southern settlers, the ideal was the great
estate of the English gentry whose descendants many of them were.
The term, "Cavalier," came into vogue in the struggle between Charles the
First and his Parliament, but the type itself was already well-developed
in the reign of James, and under the fostering influence of Buckingham. A
great deal of energy has been wasted in the discussion as to how much of
this Cavalier blood was found among the early settlers. It is enough that
we know that, between the coming of the first adventurers and the
Restoration, the number of "gentlemen" was sufficient to direct the policy
of the State, and color the life of its society.
When the earliest colonists left England, the Cavalier was at the height
of his glory. Now he represents a lost cause, "and none so poor to do him
reverence." The sceptre of royal authority is shattered; society has grown
dull and decorous. Even in dress, the Puritan has prevailed. The people
who speak of Cromwell's followers as "Roundheads" and "Cropped Ears," go
closer cropped than they, and the costume of a gentleman of to-day is
uglier and gloomier than any the Puritan ever dreamed of introducing.
These concessions of the modern world make the Puritan a familiar figure,
as he stands out in the page of Hawthorne, or on the canvas of Boughton.
But the Cavalier fades into the dim and shadowy background of the past. We
cannot afford to have him slip away from us so, if we wish really to
understand the history of our country; we must know both sides of its
development.
Hitherto, the real comprehension of the Colonial Cavalier has been
hindered by the florid enthusiasm of the South, and the critical coldness
of the North. His admirers have painted him as a theatrical personage,
always powdered and be-ruffled, fighting duels as frequently as he changed
his dress, living in lordly state in a baronial mansion, or dancing in the
brilliant halls of fashion in the season at the capital. All this is, of
course, seen to be absurd, as one comes to study the conditions under
which he lived. We find the "capital" a straggling village, the "estate" a
half-cultivated farm, and the "host of retainers" often but a mob of black
slaves, clad in motley, or lying half-naked in the sun. Does it follow,
then, that the lives of these men are not worth serious study? Surely not.
It is in the very primitiveness of environment that the chief interest of
the study of that early life lies. Here were men who brought to the New
World a keen appreciation of the luxuries and refined pleasures of life,
who had not eschewed them for conscience's sake like the Puritan, yet who
relinquished them all bravely and cheerfully, to face the hardships and
dangers of a pioneer life; and when their descendants, growing rich with
the increasing prosperity of the country, had once more surrounded
themselves with beautiful homes and wide acres, they too stood ready to
sacrifice them all at the call of Liberty. If we would understand
Washington, and Jefferson, and the Lees, George Mason, and John Randolph,
we must study them as the "Autocrat" tells us we should all be studied,
for at least a century before birth.
The Colonial Cavalier must be painted, like a Rembrandt, with high lights
and deep shadows. It is idle to ignore his weaknesses or his vices. They
are of the kind that insist on notice. Yet, with all his faults, he will
surely prove well worth our serious consideration, and however wide we
open our eyes to his defects, however we seek to brush away the illusions
with which tinsel hero-worship has surrounded him, we shall still find
him, judged as he has a right to be, at his best, closely approaching
Lowell's definition of a gentleman: "A man of culture, a man of
intellectual resources, a man of public spirit, a man of refinement, with
that good taste which is the conscience of the mind, and that conscience
which is the good taste of the soul."
This little volume makes no pretensions to the dignity of a history. It
aims only, through local gossip and homely details of life and customs, to
open a side-door, through which we may, perchance, gain a sense of
fireside intimacy with _The Colonial Cavalier_.
His Home
[Illustration: The Colonial Cavalier
His Home]
I stood in the wide hall of the old brick mansion built, a century and a
half ago, by "King Carter," on the shore of the James River.
It was Autumn. The doors at either end of the saloon were open, and their
casements framed the landscape like a picture. From the foot of the
moss-grown steps at the rear, the drive stretched its length, under
several closed gates, for half a mile, till it joined the little travelled
high-road. From the porch in front, the ground fell away, in what had once
been a series of terraces, to the brink of the river, across whose western
hills the November sun was setting red. Not a ripple stirred the surface
of the water--the dead leaves on the ground never rustled. All was still;
solitary, yet not melancholy. The place seemed apart from the present--a
part of the past.
Within doors, everything was mellowed by the softening touch of twilight
and age. The hospitable fire which blazed in the great throat of the
library chimney, cast odd shadows on the high wainscot, and the delicately
wrought mouldings over the chimney-breast, and its reflections danced in
the small panes of the heavily framed windows as though the witches were
making tea outside.
The dark staircase wound upward in the centre of the hallway, its handrail
hacked by the swords of soldiers in the Revolution. As I glanced at it,
and then out along the long avenue, I seemed to see Tarleton's
scarlet-clad dragoons dashing up to surround the house. Then, as I turned
westward, imagination travelled still further into the past, and pictured
the slow approach of a British packet, gliding peacefully up to the little
wharf down yonder, to discharge its household freight of tea and spices,
of India muslins and "callamancoes" before it proceeded on its way to the
town of Williamsburg, a few miles farther up the river.
At the period of which I was dreaming, Williamsburg was the capital of the
province, with a wide street named in honor of the Duke of Gloucester, and
a college named after their late majesties, William and Mary, with a jolly
Raleigh tavern and a stately Governor's Palace; but all this had come
about some fifty years before the building of _Carter's Grove_.
[Illustration: Hall in Carter's Grove James River Va.]
In the middle of the seventeenth century it was far more
primitive,--indeed, it was not Williamsburg at all, but only "The Middle
Plantation," with a few pioneer houses surrounded by primeval forests,
from which savage red faces now and then peered out, to the terror of the
settlers; while at nightfall the heavy wooden shutters had been closed,
lest the firelight should prove a shining mark for the Indian's arrow. If
the traveller found Williamsburg in the eighteenth century "a straggling
village," and its mansions "houses of very moderate pretensions," what
would he have thought of those first modest homes, where the horse-trough
was the family wash-basin; where stools and benches, hung against the
wall, constituted the furniture; where the kitchen-table served for
dining-table as well, and was handsomely set out with bowls, trenchers,
and noggins of wood, with gourds and squashes daintily cut, to add color
to the meal; while the family was counted well off that could muster a few
spoons, and a plate or two of shining pewter! But those pioneers and their
wives felt pride in their little homes, for they realized how favorably
they contrasted with the cabins built at "James Cittie" by Wingfield and
Smith and their fellow-adventurers. They had indeed more cause for honest
pride than the stay-at-homes in England could ever realize, for such knew
nothing of the infinite toil and the difficulty of founding a settlement
in a new country, thousands of miles from civilization, with forests to be
cleared and savages to be fought, turbulent followers to be ruled, and
food, shelter, and clothing to be provided.
No sooner were the "Ancient Planters," as the chronicles call the first
settlers, fairly ashore on their island, than the Company at home opened
its battery of advice upon them: "Seeing order is at the same price with
confusion," the secretary wrote, setting down a very dubious proposition
as an aphorism, "it shall be advisably done to set your houses even and by
a line, that your streets may have a good breadth, and be carried square
about your market-place, and every street's end opening into it, that from
thence, with a few field-pieces, you may command every street throughout;
which market-place you may also fortify, _if you think it needful_." It
must have seemed grimly humorous to those pioneers, huddling their cabins
together within the shelter of the wooden fence, dignified by the name of
a palisade, and mounted with all the guns they could muster, to be thus
advised from a distance of three thousand miles to construct at once a
model English village, and fortify the market-place, _if they thought
best_. An Italian proverb has it that "it is easy to threaten a bull from
a window," and so the Virginia Company found no difficulty in regulating
the affairs of the colonists and the Indians, from their window in London.
The settlers paid as little heed as possible to their interference, and
struggled on through the sickness and the starving-time, as best they
could, clearing away the brush, and felling trees, and putting up houses.
But building went on so slowly that in 1619, "In James Cittie were only
those houses that Sir Thomas Gates built in the tyme of his government
(1610), with one wherein the governor allwayes dwelt, and a church built
wholly at the charge of the inhabitants of the citye, of timber, being
fifty foote in length and twenty in breadth." The report from the town of
Henrico was still less encouraging, for there were found only "three old
houses, a poor ruinated church, with some few poore buildings on the
islande."
Yet, in spite of hindrances and drawbacks, the colony prospered. Lord De
la Warre reported that all the enterprise needed was "a few honest
laborers burdened with children"; and such alluring inducements were held
out to immigrants, that I cannot understand how the London poor, swarming
in their black alleys, could resist the invitation to come over to a land
where pure air and plenty were to be had for nothing. Ralph Hamor wrote
home: "The affairs of the colony being so well ordered and the hardest
tasks already overpast, that whosoever, now or hereafter, shall happily
arrive there, shall finde a handsome house of some four roomes or more, if
he have a family, to repose himselfe in, rent-free, and twelve English
acres of ground adjoining thereunto, very strongly impailed; which ground
is only allotted unto him for roots, gardaine-herbs and corne; neither
shall he need to provide himselfe victuals. He shall have for himselfe and
family a competent twelvemonths' provision delivered unto him." In
addition to all this, the colonist was to be furnished with tools of all
sorts, and "for his better subsistence, he shall have poultry and swine,
and if he prefer, a goate or two, and perhaps a cowe given him." I am at a
loss to understand why all England did not emigrate at once to the land
where such a gift-enterprise was on foot. Perhaps the readers distrusted
Hamor's authority; perhaps they thought some extraordinary risks or
dangers must lurk behind such fair promises, and when the Indian massacre
came, they possibly nodded their wise heads and said, "I told you so."
The agent of the Maryland Company worked on a very different system from
this gilded Virginia offer. He published a pamphlet giving detailed
directions to "intending settlers." They were not to depend on the
resources of the colony, even for the first year, but to bring with them
laborers and watch-dogs, grains and seeds of all kinds, and meal enough to
last while their houses were a-building.
[Illustration]
I find that I gain the best idea of what these first houses in America
were like, by asking myself how I should have built, in the conditions
under which the settlers worked, dropped down in a little forest-clearing,
the ocean before and the Indians behind, with few and imperfect tools, and
with a pressure all the while of securing food for to-day, and sowing
grain for to-morrow. I am sure I should have put up a shelter of the
rudest kind that could be trusted to withstand the winds of Autumn, and
the storms of Winter. I should not have planed my beams, nor matched my
floorboards. Only my doors and shutters I should have made both strong and
stout, to meet the gales from the sea, or a sudden dash from lurking
savages in the bush. This I find, therefore, without surprise, was just
what the settlers did. They divided the house into a kitchen and a
bedroom, with a shed joined on for the goats and pigs, or, if the owner
were so lucky, a cow. Their chimneys were chiefly constructed out of twigs
plastered on both sides with clay, which dried in the sun, and served for
some time, before it crumbled again to dust. As there were no mills, the
corn-grinding had to be done at home; so the settlers, learning the trick
from the Indians, improvised a mortar, by burning out the stump of a tree
into a hollow, and hanging over it a log, suspended from the limb of a
tree close at hand, for a pestle. This was hard work, and the grinding in
the little hand-mills brought from England was scarcely easier. A dying
man, leaving his children to their uncle's care, expressly stipulated that
they should not be put to the drudgery of pounding corn.
[Illustration]
Within the house, stood the great and small wheels for wool and flax, the
carding-comb and the moulds for making those candles, of green myrtleberry
wax which, as Beverly writes, "are never greasie to the touch, nor melt
with lying in the hottest weather. Neither does the snuff of these ever
offend the smell, like that of a tallow-candle; but instead of being
disagreeable, if an accident puts a candle out, it yields a pleasant
fragrancy to all that are in the room, insomuch that nice people often put
them out on purpose to have the incense of the expiring snuff."
It was no pitiable life that those pioneers lived, even in those most
primitive days. Their out-of-door existence was full of a wild charm, and
their energy soon improved conditions indoors. Every ship from England
brought over conveniences and luxuries. The cabin was exchanged for a
substantial house. First pewter, and then silver plate began to shine on
sideboards of polished oak. Four-post bedsteads decorated the sleeping
rooms, and tapestry curtains kept out the cold.
A Maryland record of 1653 tells of a bargain between T. Wilford and Paul
Sympson, by which, in consideration of twenty thousand pounds of tobacco
received from Sympson, Wilford agrees to support him for the rest of his
life "like a gentleman." This gentleman-like provision consisted of a
house fifteen feet square, with a Welsh chimney, and lined with riven
boards; a handsome joined bedstead, bedding and curtains; one small table,
six stools, and three wainscot chairs; a servant to wait on him; meat,
apparel, and washing; and every year an anker (ten gallons) of drams, one
tierce of sack, and a case of English spirits for his own use.
It is hard to imagine what more of luxury, an annuity could furnish to a
gentleman of the nineteenth century, if indeed Heaven had blessed him with
a stomach capable of consuming such an "intolerable deal of sack."
The next fifty years still further increased the elegance of living; and
style as well as comfort began to be considered. In an inventory of
household goods belonging to a Virginian in 1698, I find included, "a
feather-bed, one sett Kitterminster curtains, and Vallens bedstead, one
pair white linen sheets with two do. pillow biers, 2 Rusha-leather
chaires, 5 Rush-bottom chaires, a burning glass, a flesk fork, and 6
Alchemy spoones" (alchemy being a mixed metal, originally supposed to be
gold made by magic). In addition to these articles, the list includes a
brass skimer and 2 pairs of pot-hooks, and, as its crowning glory, "1 old
silver Dram-cup." No doubt the possessor had sat with his boon companions
on many a cold night, by the great chimney, plunging the hot poker into
the fire.--
"And nursed the loggerhead, whose hissing dip,
Timed by nice instinct, creamed the mug of flip."
The house of a planter in Virginia at the end of the seventeenth century,
was substantial and comfortable. The inventory of such a planter
mentions, as belonging to the homestead, a "parlor chamber, chamber over
sd. chamber, chamber over the parlor, nursery, old nursery, room over the
Ladyes chamber, Ladyes chamber, entry, store, home house quarter, home
house, quarter over the creek, Smiths shopp, Barne, kitchen, Dary, chamber
over the old Dary, flemings quarter, Robinsons quarter, Whitakers quarter,
Black Wallnut Quarter."
By this time, the house of the rich in the towns boasted a parlor
| 361.958973 | 1,731 |
2023-11-16 18:21:48.8984800
| 1,034 | 479 |
Produced by C. St. Charleskindt 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: |
| |
| Sections of this text have been quoted from historical |
| documents written with great variability in spelling and |
| punctuation. These inconsistencies have been retained. A list |
| of corrections made to the 1904 portions of this text can be |
| found following this text. |
| |
+---------------------------------------------------------------+
HOUSE
OF
JOHN PROCTER,
WITCHCRAFT MARTYR, 1692.
BY WM. P. UPHAM.
PEABODY:
PRESS OF C. H. SHEPARD,
1904.
[Illustration: Map]
HOUSE OF JOHN PROCTER
WITCHCRAFT MARTYR, 1692.
[A paper read by William P. Upham at a meeting of the Peabody
Historical Society at the Needham house, West Peabody, September 2nd.,
1903.]
It is now nearly forty years since I assisted my father, the late
Charles W. Upham, in the preparation of his work on Salem Village and
the Witchcraft tragedy of 1692, by collecting what information could
be obtained from the records as to the people and their homes in
that locality. In doing this I was enabled to construct a map showing
the bounds of the grants and farms at that time. On that map is
represented quite accurately the Downing Farm, so called, owned, in
1638, by Emanuel Downing, father of Sir George Downing, and occupied
as tenant, in 1692, by John Procter, the victim of the witchcraft
delusion. When I made the map I knew that John Procter at his death
owned, as appears by the inventory of his estate, fifteen acres of
land in Salem, but I was not able then to locate it with exactness.
Lately, in making a more complete study of the records relating to the
Downing farm and the surrounding lands I have learned the exact
situation of the fifteen acre lot owned by him, and also that he had a
house upon it as early as 1682 and until his death in 1692. It appears
that this lot is the place where he was buried, according to the
family tradition, although the knowledge as to its being once owned by
him seems to have passed out of the neighborhood for more than a
century.
This lot is indicated, on the accompanying map of the locality which I
have drawn for the purpose, by heavy dark lines. It was on the north
side of Lowell Street in West Peabody, just west of the westernmost
line of the Downing Farm and about one hundred and fifty rods east
from the place of this meeting, which is the Needham homestead on the
Newburyport Turnpike, or Newbury Street as it is now called, marked on
the map as then, in 1692, the home of Anthony Needham, Junior.
The discovery that this was John Procter's land called to mind a
conversation I had with Mrs. Jacobs, an aged lady who lived in the old
Jacobs house, now the Wyman place, and of which I made the following
memorandum about thirty years ago:--
"Mrs. Jacobs (Munroe) says that it was always said that Procters were
buried near the bars as you go into the Philip H. Saunders place. Mr.
James Marsh says he always heard that John Procter, of witch time, was
buried there."
Upon inquiring lately of Mrs. Osborn, the librarian of the Peabody
Historical Society, as to what was the family tradition, I learned
that it was said by Mrs. Hannah B. Mansfield, of Danvers, that John
Procter was buried "opposite to the Colcord" (now the Wyman) "pasture,
amongst the rocks." In answer to an inquiry by Mrs. Osborn, Mrs.
Mansfield wrote to her as follows:--"A great aunt took me, when a
little girl, with her to a spot in a rocky hill where she picked
blackberries, and said there was the place 'among birch trees and
rocks where our ancestor of witchcraft notoriety was buried.' It was
on the north side of Lowell Street in what was then called the Marsh
pasture nearly opposite the Jacobs farm which is on the south side of
Lowell Street."
The Marsh pasture from which Mrs. Mansfield's aunt pointed out the
"birch trees and rocks" near by where John Procter was
| 362.21789 | 1,732 |
2023-11-16 18:21:49.1154070
| 430 | 90 |
Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
scanned images of public domain material from the Google
Print archive.
[Illustration: JOSIAH FLYNT.]
NOTES OF AN
ITINERANT
POLICEMAN
By
JOSIAH FLYNT
AUTHOR OF "TRAMPING WITH TRAMPS"
[Illustration]
BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
_MDCCCC_
_Copyright, 1900_
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
INSCRIBED
TO
WILLARD ROPES TRASK
NOTE.
A number of the chapters in this book have appeared as separate papers
in the _Independent_, _Harper's Weekly_, the _Critic_, _Munsey's
Magazine_, and in publications connected with McClure's Syndicate; but
much of the material is new, and all of the articles have been revised
before being republished.
INTRODUCTORY.
For a number of years it had been a wish of mine to have an experience
as a police officer, to come in contact with tramps and criminals, as a
representative of the law. Not that I bore these people any personal
grudge, or desired to carry out any pet policy in dealing with them; but
I had learned to know them pretty intimately as companions in
lodging-houses and at camp-fires, and had observed them rather carefully
as prisoners in jails, and I was anxious to supplement this knowledge of
them with an inquiry in regard to the impression they make on the man
whose business it is to keep an official watch over them while they are
in the open. I desired also to learn more concerning the professional
offender than it had been possible for me to find about him in tramp
life. If one has the courage to go and live with professional criminals
as one of them, he can become even more intimate with them than in a
police force, but it is very difficult to associate with
| 362.434817 | 1,733 |
2023-11-16 18:21:49.5150300
| 1,044 | 35 |
Produced by David Widger
RICHARD CARVEL
By Winston Churchill
Volume 2.
VIII. Over the Wall
IX. Under False Colours
X. The Red in the Carvel Blood
XI. A Festival and a Parting
XII. News from a Far Country
CHAPTER VIII
OVER THE WALL
Dorothy treated me ill enough that spring. Since the minx had tasted
power at Carvel Hall, there was no accounting for her. On returning to
town Dr. Courtenay had begged her mother to allow her at the assemblies,
a request which Mrs. Manners most sensibly refused. Mr. Marmaduke had
given his consent, I believe, for he was more impatient than Dolly for
the days when she would become the toast of the province. But the doctor
contrived to see her in spite of difficulties, and Will Fotheringay was
forever at her house, and half a dozen other lads. And many gentlemen
of fashion like the doctor called ostensibly to visit Mrs. Manners, but
in reality to see Miss Dorothy. And my lady knew it. She would be
lingering in the drawing-room in her best bib and tucker, or strolling in
the garden as Dr. Courtenay passed, and I got but scant attention indeed.
I was but an awkward lad, and an old playmate, with no novelty about me.
"Why, Richard," she would say to me as I rode or walked beside her, or
sat at dinner in Prince George Street, "I know every twist and turn of
your nature. There is nothing you could do to surprise me. And so, sir,
you are very tiresome."
"You once found me useful enough to fetch and carry, and amusing when I
walked the Oriole's bowsprit," I replied ruefully.
"Why don't you make me jealous?" says she, stamping her foot. "A score
of pretty girls are languishing for a glimpse of you,--Jennie and Bess
Fotheringay, and Betty Tayloe, and Heaven knows how many others. They
are actually accusing me of keeping you trailing. 'La, girls!' said I,
'if you will but rid me of him for a day, you shall have my lasting
gratitude.'"
And she turned to the spinet and began a lively air. But the taunt
struck deeper than she had any notion of. That spring arrived out from
London on the Belle of the Wye a box of fine clothes my grandfather had
commanded for me from his own tailor; and a word from a maid of fifteen
did more to make me wear them than any amount of coaxing from Mr. Allen
and my Uncle Grafton. My uncle seemed in particular anxious that I
should make a good appearance, and reminded me that I should dress as
became the heir of the Carvel house. I took counsel with Patty Swain,
and then went to see Betty Tayloe, and the Fotheringay girls, and the
Dulany girls, near the Governor's. And (fie upon me!) I was not
ill-pleased with the brave appearance I made. I would show my mistress
how little I cared. But the worst of it was, the baggage seemed to
trouble less than I, and had the effrontery to tell me how happy she was
I had come out of my shell, and broken loose from her apron-strings.
"Indeed, they would soon begin to think I meant to marry you, Richard,"
says she at supper one Sunday before a tableful, and laughed with the
rest.
"They do not credit you with such good sense, my dear," says her mother,
smiling kindly at me.
And Dolly bit her lip, and did not join in that part of the merriment.
I fled to Patty Swain for counsel, nor was it the first time in my life
I had done so. Some good women seem to have been put into this selfish
world to comfort and advise. After Prince George Street with its gilt
and marbles and stately hedged gardens, the low-beamed, vine-covered
house in the Duke of Gloucester Street was a home and a rest. In my
eyes there was not its equal in Annapolis for beauty within and without.
Mr. Swain had bought the dwelling from an aged man with a history, dead
some nine years back. Its furniture, for the most part, was of the
Restoration, of simple and massive oak blackened by age, which I ever
fancied better than the Frenchy baubles of tables and chairs with spindle
legs, and cabinets of glass and gold lacquer which were then making their
way into the fine mansions of our town. The house was full of twists and
turns, and steps up and down, and nooks and passages and queer
h
| 362.83444 | 1,734 |
2023-11-16 18:21:49.7247040
| 1,009 | 415 |
Produced by Charles Keller
HISTORIC GIRLS
Stories Of Girls Who Have Influenced The History Of Their Times
By E. S. Brooks
PREFACE.
In these progressive days, when so much energy and discussion are
devoted to what is termed equality and the rights of woman, it is well
to remember that there have been in the distant past women, and girls
even, who by their actions and endeavors proved themselves the equals of
the men of their time in valor, shrewdness, and ability.
This volume seeks to tell for the girls and boys of to-day the stories
of some of their sisters of the long-ago,--girls who by eminent position
or valiant deeds became historic even before they had passed the
charming season of girlhood.
Their stories are fruitful of varying lessons, for some of these
historic girls were wilful as well as courageous, and mischievous as
well as tender-hearted.
But from all the lessons and from all the morals, one truth stands out
most clearly--the fact that age and country, time and surroundings, make
but little change in the real girl-nature, that has ever been impulsive,
trusting, tender, and true, alike in the days of the Syrian Zenobia and
in those of the modern American school-girl.
After all, whatever the opportunity, whatever the limitation, whatever
the possibilities of this same never-changing girl-nature, no better
precept can be laid down for our own bright young maidens, as none
better can be deduced from the stories herewith presented, than that
phrased in Kingsley's noble yet simple verse:
"Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long
And so make life, death, and the vast forever
One grand, sweet song."
Grateful acknowledgment is made by the author for the numerous
expressions of interest that came to him from his girl-readers as the
papers now gathered into book-form appeared from time to time in the
pages of St. Nicholas. The approval of those for whom one studies and
labors is the pleasantest and most enduring return.
CONTENTS
ZENOBIA OF PALMYRA: THE GIRL OF THE SYRIAN DESERT
HELENA OF BRITAIN: THE GIRL OF THE ESSEX FELLS
PULCHERIA OF CONSTANTINOPLE: THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN HORN
CLOTILDA OF BURGUNDY: THE GIRL OF THE FRENCH VINEYARDS
WOO OF HWANG-HO: THE GIRL OF THE YELLOW RIVER
EDITH OF SCOTLAND: THE GIRL OF THE NORTHERN ABBEY
JACQUELINE OF HOLLAND: THE GIRL OF THE LAND OF FOGS
CATARINA OF VENICE: THE GIRL OF THE GRAND CANAL
THERESA OF AVILA: THE GIRL OF THE SPANISH SIERRAS
ELIZABETH OF TUDOR: THE GIRL OF THE HERTFORD MANOR
CHRISTINA OF SWEDEN: THE GIRL OF THE NORTHERN FIORDS
MA-TA-OKA OF POW-HA-TAN: THE GIRL OF THE VIRGINIA FORESTS
ZENOBIA OF PALMYRA: THE GIRL OF THE SYRIAN DESERT.
[Afterward known as "Zenobia Augusta, Queen of the East."] A.D. 250.
MANY and many miles and many days' journey toward the rising sun, over
seas and mountains and deserts,--farther to the east than Rome, or
Constantinople, or even Jerusalem and old Damascus,--stand the ruins of
a once mighty city, scattered over a mountain-walled oasis of the great
Syrian desert, thirteen hundred feet above the sea, and just across the
northern border of Arabia. Look for it in your geographies. It is known
as Palmyra. To-day the jackal prowls through its deserted streets and
the lizard suns himself on its fallen columns, while thirty or forty
miserable Arabian huts huddle together in a small corner of what was
once the great court-yard of the magnificent Temple of the Sun.
And yet, sixteen centuries ago, Palmyra, or Tadmor as it was originally
called, was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Nature and
art combined to make it glorious. Like a glittering mirage out of the
sand-swept desert arose its palaces and temples and grandly sculptured
archways. With aqueducts and monuments and gleaming porticos with
countless gro
| 363.044114 | 1,735 |
2023-11-16 18:21:49.8804700
| 1,026 | 400 |
Produced by David Garcia, Tiffany Vergon, Juliet Sutherland,
Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreaders Team
BROUGHT HOME.
BY
HESBA STRETTON.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. UPTON RECTORY
CHAPTER II. ANN HOLLAND
CHAPTER III. WHAT WAS HER DUTY?
CHAPTER IV. A BABY'S GRAVE
CHAPTER V. TOWN'S TALK
CHAPTER VI. THE RECTOR'S RETURN
CHAPTER VII. WORSE THAN DEAD
CHAPTER VIII. HUSBAND AND WIFE
CHAPTER IX. SAD DAYS
CHAPTER X. A SIN AND A SHAME
CHAPTER XI. LOST
CHAPTER XII. A COLONIAL CURACY
CHAPTER XIII. SELF-SACRIFICE
CHAPTER XIV. FAREWELLS
CHAPTER XV. IN DESPAIR
CHAPTER XVI. A LONG VOYAGE
CHAPTER XVII. ALMOST SHIPWRECKED
CHAPTER XVIII. SAVED
CHAPTER I.
UPTON RECTORY
So quiet is the small market town of Upton, that it is difficult to
believe in the stir and din of London, which is little more than an
hour's journey from it. It is the terminus of the single line of rails
branching off from the main line eight miles away, and along it three
trains only travel each way daily. The sleepy streets have old-fashioned
houses straggling along each side, with trees growing amongst them; and
here and there, down the roads leading into the the country, which are
half street, half lane, green plots of daisied grass are still to be
found, where there were once open fields that have left a little legacy
to the birds and children of coming generations. Half the houses are
still largely built of wood from the forest of olden times that has now
disappeared; and ancient bow-windows jut out over the side causeways.
Some of the old exclusive mansions continue to boast in a breastwork of
stone pillars linked together by chains of iron, intended as a defence
against impertinent intruders, but more often serving as safe
swinging-places for the young children sent to play in the streets.
Perhaps of all times of the year the little town looks its best on a
sunny autumn morning, with its fine film of mist, when the chestnut
leaves are golden, and slender threads of gossamer are floating in the
air, and heavy dews, white as the hoar-frost, glisten in the sunshine.
But at any season Upton seems a tranquil, peaceful, out-of-the-world
spot, having no connection with busier and more wretched places.
There were not many real gentry, as the townsfolk called them, living
near. A few retired Londoners, weary of the great city, and finding
rents and living cheaper at Upton, had settled in trim villas, built
beyond the boundaries of the town. But for the most part the population
consisted of substantial trades-people and professional men, whose
families had been represented there for several generations. As usual
the society was broken up into very small cliques; no one household
feeling itself exactly on the same social equality as another; even as
far down as the laundresses and charwomen, who could tell whose husband
or son had been before the justices, and which families had escaped that
disgrace. The nearest approach to that equality and fraternity of which
we all hear so much and see so little, was unfortunately to be found in
the bar-parlor and billiard-room of the Upton Arms; but even this was
lost as soon as the threshold was recrossed, and the boon-companions of
the interior breathed the air of the outer world. There were several
religious sects of considerable strength, and of very decided
antagonistic views; any one of whose members was always ready to give
the reason of the special creed that was in him. So, what with a variety
of domestic circumstances, and a diversity of religious opinions, it is
not to be wondered at that the society of Upton was broken up into very
small circles indeed.
There was one point, however, on which all the townspeople were united.
There could be no doubt whatever as to the beauty of the old Norman
church, lying just beyond the eastern boundary of the town; not mingling
with its business, but standing in a solemn quiet of its own, as if to
guard the repose of the sleepers under its shadow. The churchyard too,
was beautiful, with its grand and dusky old yew-trees, spreading their
| 363.19988 | 1,736 |
2023-11-16 18:21:49.9186680
| 1,089 | 465 |
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
ANDY AT YALE
OR
THE GREAT QUADRANGLE MYSTERY
BY
ROY ELIOT STOKES
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
CLEVELAND, O. NEW YORK, N. Y.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, MCMXIV, by
SULLY AND KLEINTEICH
Printed in the United States of America
by
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
CLEVELAND, OHIO
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
I. A Horse-Whipping 1
II. Good Samaritans 12
III. An Unpleasant Prospect 19
IV. The Picture Show 28
V. Final Days 36
VI. The Bonfire 45
VII. Link Again 51
VIII. Off For Yale 63
IX. On The Campus 72
X. Missing Money 78
XI. "Rough House" 85
XII. A Fierce Tackle 94
XIII. Bargains 102
XIV. Dunk Refuses 113
XV. Dunk Goes Out 123
XVI. In Bad 131
XVII. Andy's Despair 138
XVIII. Andy's Resolve 146
XIX. Link Comes To College 150
XX. Queer Disappearances 158
XXI. A Gridiron Battle 166
XXII. Andy Says 'No!' 177
XXIII. Reconciliation 185
XXIV. Link's Visit 193
XXV. The Missing Watch 198
XXVI. The Girls 205
XXVII. Jealousies 213
XXVIII. The Book 219
XXIX. The Accusation 230
XXX. The Letter 237
XXXI. On The Diamond 245
XXXII. Victory 256
XXXIII. The Trap 281
XXXIV. Caught 291
XXXV. For The Honor Of Yale 300
------------------------------------------------------------------------
ANDY AT YALE
CHAPTER I
A HORSE-WHIPPING
"Come on, Andy, what are you hanging back for?"
"Oh, just to look at the view. It's great! Why, you can see for twenty
miles from here, right off to the mountains!"
One lad stood by himself on the summit of a green hill, while, a little
below, and in advance of him, were four others.
"Oh, come on!" cried one of the latter. "View! Who wants to look at a
view?"
"But it's great, I tell you! I never appreciated it before!" exclaimed
Andy Blair. "You can see----!"
"Oh, for the love of goodness! Come on!" came in protest from the
objecting speaker. "What do we care how far we can see? We're going to
get something to eat!"
"That's right! Some of Kelly's good old kidney stew!"
"A little chicken for mine!"
"I'm for a chop!"
"Beefsteak on the grill!"
Thus the lads, waiting for the one who had stopped to admire the fine
view, chanted their desires in the way of food.
"Come on!" finally called one in disgust, and, with a half sigh of
regret, Andy walked on to join his mates.
"What's getting into you lately?" demanded Chet Anderson, a bit
petulantly. "You stand mooning around, you don't hear when you're spoken
to, and you don't go in for half the fun you used to."
"Are you sick? Or is it a--girl?" queried Ben Snow, laughing.
"Both the same!" observed Frank Newton, cynically.
"Listen to the old dinkbat!" exclaimed Tom Hatfield. "You'd think he
knew all about the game! You never got a letter from a girl in your
life, Frank!"
"I didn't, eh? That's all you know about it," and Frank made an
unsuccessful effort to punch his tormentor.
"Well, if we're going on to Churchtown and have a bit of grub in
Kelly's, let's hoof it!" suggested Chet. "You can eat; can't you, Andy?
Haven't lost your appetite; have you, looking at that blooming view?"
"No, indeed. But you fellows don't seem to realize that in another month
we'll never see it again, unless we come back to Milton for a visit."
"That's right!" agreed Ben Snow. "This _is_ our last term at the old
school! I'll be sorry to leave it, in a way, even though I do expect to
go to college."
"Same here," came from Tom. "What college are you going to, Ben
| 363.238078 | 1,737 |
2023-11-16 18:21:50.7129840
| 62 | 152 |
Produced by KD Weeks, Chris Curnow 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
Certain typographical features, such as italic font, cannot
| 364.032394 | 1,738 |
2023-11-16 18:21:51.0242420
| 382 | 53 |
Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
_SPECIAL EDITION_
WITH THE WORLD'S
GREAT TRAVELLERS
EDITED BY CHARLES MORRIS
AND OLIVER H. G. LEIGH
Vol. I
CHICAGO
UNION BOOK COMPANY
1901
COPYRIGHT 1896 AND 1897
BY
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
COPYRIGHT 1901
E. R. DUMONT
[Illustration: THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN
PAINTING BY SPADA]
CONTENTS.
SUBJECT. AUTHOR. PAGE
New Dependencies of the United States OLIVER H. G. LEIGH 9
Winter and Summer in New England HARRIET MARTINEAU 22
Niagara Falls and the Thousand Islands CHARLES MORRIS 31
From New York to Washington in 1866 HENRY LATHAM 39
The Natural Bridge and Tunnel of EDWARD A. POLLARD 49
Virginia
Plantation Life in War Times WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL 62
Among Florida Alligators S. C. CLARKE 74
In the Mammoth Cave THERESE YELVERTON 83
Down the Ohio and Mississippi THOMAS L. NICHOLS 94
From New Orleans to Red River FREDERICK LAW OLMSTED 104
Winter on the Prairies G. W. FEATHERSTONHAUGH 114
A Hunter's Christmas Dinner J. S. CAMPION 124
A Colorado "Round-Up" ALFRED TERRY BACON 133
Among the Cow-boys
| 364.343652 | 1,739 |
2023-11-16 18:21:51.0475490
| 998 | 373 |
Produced by Shaun Pinder, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Old-World Japan
Legends of the Land of the
Gods + + Re-told by Frank
Rinder + With Illustrations
by T. H. Robinson
"The spirit of Japan is as the
fragrance of the wild cherry-blossom
in the dawn of the
rising sun"
London: George Allen
156 Charing Cross Road
1895
Old-World Japan
[Illustration: Publisher's device]
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press
Preface
History and mythology, fact and fable, are closely interwoven in the
texture of Japanese life and thought; indeed, it is within relatively
recent years only that exact comparative criticism has been able, with
some degree of accuracy, to divide the one from the other. The
accounts of the God-period contained in the Kojiki and the
Nihongi--"Records of Ancient Matters" compiled in the eighth century
of the Christian era--profess to outline the events of the vast cycles
of years from the time of Ame-no-mi-naka-nushi-no-kami's birth in the
Plain of High Heaven, "when the earth, young and like unto floating
oil, drifted about medusa-like," to the death of the Empress Suiko,
A.D. 628.
The first six tales in this little volume are founded on some of the
most significant and picturesque incidents of this God-period. The
opening legend gives a brief relation of the birth of several of the
great Shinto deities, of the creation of Japan and of the world, of
the Orpheus-like descent of Izanagi to Hades, and of his subsequent
fight with the demons.
That Chinese civilisation has exercised a profound influence on that
of Japan, cannot be doubted. A scholar of repute has indicated that
evidence of this is to be found even in writings so early as the
Kojiki and the Nihongi. To give a single instance only: the curved
jewels, of which the remarkable necklace of Ama-terasu was made, have
never been found in Japan, whereas the stones are not uncommon in
China.
This is not the place critically to consider the wealth of myth,
legend, fable, and folk-tale to be found scattered throughout Japanese
literature, and represented in Japanese art: suffice it to say, that
to the student and the lover of primitive romance, there are here
vast fields practically unexplored.
The tales contained in this volume have been selected with a view
rather to their beauty and charm of incident and colour, than with the
aim to represent adequately the many-sided subject of Japanese lore.
Moreover, those only have been chosen which are not familiar to the
English-reading public. Several of the classic names of Japan have
been interpolated in the text. It remains to say that, in order not to
weary the reader, it has been found necessary to abbreviate the
many-syllabled Japanese names.
The sources from which I have drawn are too numerous to particularise.
To Professor Basil Hall Chamberlain, whose intimate and scholarly
knowledge of all matters Japanese is well known, my thanks are
especially due, as also the expression of my indebtedness to other
writers in English, from Mr. A. B. Mitford to Mr. Lafcadio Hearn,
whose volumes on "Unfamiliar Japan" appeared last year. The careful
text of Dr. David Brauns, and the studies of F. A. Junker von
Langegg, have also been of great service. The works of numerous French
writers on Japanese art have likewise been consulted with advantage.
FRANK RINDER.
Contents
PAGE
THE BIRTH-TIME OF THE GODS 1
THE SUN-GODDESS 15
THE HEAVENLY MESSENGERS 25
PRINCE RUDDY-PLENTY 35
THE PALACE OF THE OCEAN-BED 45
AUTUMN AND SPRING 57
THE STAR-LOVERS 67
THE ISLAND OF ETERNAL YOUTH 77
RAI-TARO, THE SON OF THE THUNDER-GOD 87
THE SOULS OF THE CHILDREN 97
THE MOON-MAIDEN 103
THE GREAT
| 364.366959 | 1,740 |
2023-11-16 18:21:51.9821630
| 936 | 431 |
Produced by KD Weeks, David Edwards and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was made using scans of public domain works put online
by Harvard University Library's Open Collections Program,
Women Working 1800 - 1930)
Transcriber's Notes
Certain typographical features of the original cannot be reproduced
Illustrations cannot be reproduced in this version of the text. They
are indicated in the text, in their approximate positions, as:
[Illustration: <caption>]. Autograph letters, signatures, and similar
documents which were presented as images in the original, but have been
transcribed here, in lieu of captions.
Italic fonts are rendered using delimiting underscores, as _italic_.
The 'oe' ligature is spelled with separate characters. Words in all
small capital letters, including those which employ mixed case, are
shifted to uppercase.
Footnotes, which appeared at the bottom of the page, are positioned
at logical breaks following their references. They have been assigned
unique letters, beginning with 'A', and appear as:
[A] Text of footnote.
The lists of Illustrations and Contents have several anomalous, though
accurate, entries. For example, the section on the re-incorporation of
the Red Cross, beginning on page 94, appears in the Contents between
sections on p. 184 and p. 197, for no apparent reason. The reference has
been placed in its proper position in the Contents. Please note that
the entries in the Contents do not always refer to formal sections of
the text. They sometimes direct one to a change of topic otherwise
unmarked in the text itself.
Several of the photographs associated with the Spanish American War,
which were included at the end of the volume on pp. 675 and 676, are
listed in the Illustrations where their subjects would appear.
The opening of the section on General History is labeled "Chapter I",
the only use of that designation in the volume.
[Frontispiece: CLARA BARTON.
_From a portrait taken about 1875._]
THE RED CROSS
IN PEACE AND WAR
[Illustration]
BY CLARA BARTON
AMERICAN HISTORICAL PRESS
1906
Copyright 1898, by CLARA BARTON
From the President of the United States
In his Message to Congress December 6, 1898.
It is a pleasure for me to mention in terms of cordial appreciation
the timely and useful work of the American National Red Cross, both
in relief measures preparatory to the campaigns, in sanitary assistance
at several of the camps of assemblage, and, later, under the able and
experienced leadership of the president of the society, Miss Clara
Barton, on the fields of battle and in the hospitals at the front in Cuba.
Working in conjunction with the governmental authorities and under
their sanction and approval, and with the enthusiastic co-operation of
many patriotic women and societies in the various States, the Red
Cross has fully maintained its already high reputation for intense
earnestness and ability to exercise the noble purposes of its international
organization, thus justifying the confidence and support which
it has received at the hands of the American people. To the members
and officers and all who aided them in their philanthropic work,
the sincere and lasting gratitude of the soldiers and the public is due
and freely accorded.
In tracing these events we are constantly reminded of our obligations
to the Divine Master for His watchful care over us and His safe
guidance, for which the nation makes reverent acknowledgment and
offers humble prayers for the continuance of His favors.
[Illustration: William McKinley]
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
Clara Barton, from a portrait taken about 1875 Frontispiece.
The International Committee of the Red Cross,
Geneva, Switzerland opp. 16
Clara Barton, taken about 1885 opp. 17
The First Red Cross Warehouse, Washington, D.C. 21
National Red Cross Headquarters in Washington, from 1892 to 1897 22
Some of the First Members of the American National Red Cross 43
A Group of American National Red Cross Members 44
A Group of American National Red Cross Members 55
Suburban Headquarters
| 365.301573 | 1,741 |
2023-11-16 18:21:52.4748750
| 2,374 | 116 |
Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at Free
Literature (online soon in an extended version, also linking
to free sources for education worldwide... MOOC's,
educational materials,...) Images generously made available
by the Internet Archive.
_The English-American his Travail by Sea and Land:_
OR,
A NEW SURVEY
OF THE
WEST INDIA'S,
_CONTAINING_
A Journall of Three thousand and Three hundred
Miles within the main Land of AMERICA.
Wherin is set forth his Voyage from _Spain_ to _St. John de Ulhua_;
and from thence to _Xalappa_, to _Tlaxcallan_, the City of _Angeles_, and
forward to _Mexico_; With the description of that great City,
as it was in former times, and also at this present.
Likewise his Journey from _Mexico_ through the Provinces of _Guaxaca,
Chiapa, Guatemala, Vera Paz, Truxillo, Comayagua_; with his
abode Twelve years about _Guatemala_, and especially in the
Indian-towns of _Mixco, Pinola, Petapa, Amatitlan_.
As also his strange and wonderfull Conversion, and Calling from those
remote Parts to his Native COUNTREY.
With his return through the Province of _Nicaragua_, and _Costa Rica_,
to _Nicoya, Panama, Portobelo, Cartagena,_ and _Havana_, with divers
occurrents and dangers that did befal in the said Journey.
_ALSO,_
A New and exact Discovery of the Spanish Navigation to
those Parts; And of their Dominions, Government, Religion, Forts,
Castles, Ports, Havens, Commodities, fashions, behaviour of
Spaniards, Priests and Friers, Blackmores, Mulatto's, Mestiso's,
Indians; and of their Feasts and Solemnities.
With a Grammar, or some few Rudiments of the _Indian_ Tongue,
called, _Poconchi_, or _Pocoman_.
_By the true and painfull endevours of_ THOMAS GAGE, _now Preacher of
the Word of God at_ Acris _in the County of_ KENT. Anno Dom. 1648.
_London_, Printed by _R. Cotes_, and are to be sold by _Humphrey
Blunden_ at the Castle in _Cornhill_, and _Thomas Williams_ at the
Bible in _Little-Britain_, 1648.
CONTENTS
The Epistle Dedicatory.
To the Reader.
A New Survey of the West-Indies.
Chapter I.
Chapter II.
Chapter III.
Chapter IV.
Chapter V.
Chapter VI.
Chapter VII.
Chapter VIII.
Chapter IX.
Chapter X.
Chapter XI.
Chapter XII.
Chapter XIII.
Chapter XIV.
Chapter XV.
Chapter XVI.
Chapter XVII.
Chapter XVIII.
Chapter XIX.
Chapter XX.
Chapter XXI.
Chapter XXII.
Rules for the Indian tongue
called Poconchi, or Pocoman.
A Table of the Chapters of this
Booke, with the Contents of the
most Remarkeable things in them.
_To His Excellency_
Sr. THOMAS FAIRFAX Knight, Lord _FAIRFAX_ of CAMERON,
CAPTAIN-GENERALL of the Parliaments Army;
And of all their
Forces in _ENGLAND_, and the Dominion of _WALES_.
May it please your EXCELLENCY,
_The Divine Providence hath hitherto so ordered my life, that for the
greatest part thereof, I have lived (as it were) in exile from my
native Countrey: which happened, partly, by reason of my education in
the Romish Religion, and that in forraign Universities; and partly,
by my entrance into Monasticall orders. For twelve years space of
which time, I was wholly disposed of in that part of_ America _called_
New-Spain, _and the parts adjacent. My difficult going thither, being
not permitted to any, but to those of the Spanish Nation; my long stay
there; and lastly my returning home, not onely to my Country, but to
the true knowledg and free-profession of the Gospels purity, gave me
reason to conceive, That these great mercies were not appointed me by
the heavenly Powers, to the end I should bury my Talent in the earth,
or hide my light under a bushell, but that I should impart what I
there saw and knew to the use and benefit of my English Country-men;
And which the rather I held my self obliged unto, because in a manner
nothing hath been written of these Parts for these hundred years last
past, which is almost ever since the first Conquest thereof by the_
Spaniards, _who are contented to lose the honour of that wealth and
felicity they have there since purchased by their great endevours, so
they may enjoy the safety of retaining what they have formerly gotten
in peace and security. In doing whereof I shall offer no Collections,
but such as shall arise from mine own observations, which will as
much differ from what formerly hath been hereupon written, as the
picture of a person grown to mans estate, from that which was taken
of him when he was but a Childe; or the last hand of the Painter, to
the first or rough draught of the picture. I am told by others, that
this may prove a most acceptable work; but I doe tell my self that it
will prove both lame and imperfect, and therefore had need to shelter
my self under the shadow of some high protection, which I humbly pray
your Excellency to afford me; nothing doubting, but as God hath lately
made your Excellency the happy instrument, not onely of saving my
self, but of many numbers of godly and well-affected people in this
County of_ Kent, _(where now I reside by the favour of the Parliament)
from the imminent ruine and destruction plotted against them by their
most implacable enemies; so the same God who hath led your Excellency
through so many difficulties towards the settlement of the peace of
this Kingdom, and reduction of_ Ireland, _will, after the perfecting
thereof (which God of his mercy hasten) direct your Noble thoughts to
employ the Souldiery of this Kingdom upon such just and honourable
designes in those parts of_ America, _as their want of action at
home may neither be a burden to themselves nor the Kingdome. To your
Excellency therefore I offer a_ New-World, _to be the subject of your
future pains, valour, and piety, beseeching your acceptance of this
plain but faithfull relation of mine, wherein your Excellency, and
by you the English Nation shall see what wealth and honor they have
lost by one of their narrow hearted Princes, who living in peace and
abounding in riches, did notwithstanding reject the offer of being
first discoverer of_ America; _and left it unto_ Ferdinando _of_
Arragon, _who at the same time was wholly taken up by the Warrs, in
gaining of the City and Kingdome of_ Granada _from the_ Moores; _being
so impoverished thereby, that he was compelled to borrow with some
difficulty a few Crowns of a very mean man, to set forth_ Columbus
_upon so glorious an expedition. And yet, if time were closely followed
at the heels, we are not so farr behinde, but we might yet take him by
the fore-top. To which purpose, our Plantations of the_ Barbadoes, St.
Christophers, Mems, _and the rest of the_ Caribe-Islands, _have not
onely advanced our journey the better part of the way; but so inured
our people to the Clime of the_ Indies, _as they are the more inabled
thereby to undertake any enterprise upon the firm Land with greater
facility. Neither is the difficulty of the attempt so great, as some
may imagine; for I dare be bold to affirm it knowingly, That with
the same pains and charge which they have been at in planting one of
those pettie Islands, they might have conquer'd so many great Cities,
and large Territories on the main Continent, as might very well merit
the title of a Kingdome. Our Neighbors the_ Hollanders _may be our
example in this case; who whilst we have been driving a private Trade
from Port to Port, of which we are likely now to be deprived, have
conquered so much Land in the_ East _and_ West-Indies, _that it may
be said of them, as of the_ Spaniards, That the Sunn never sets upon
their Dominions. _And to meet with that objection by the way,_ That the
Spaniard being intituled to those Countries, it were both unlawfull
and against all conscience to dispossess him thereof. _I answer, that
(the Popes donation excepted) I know no title he hath but force,
which by the same title, and by a greater force may be repelled. And
to bring in the title of_ First-discovery; _to me it seems as little
reason, that the sailing of a_ Spanish _Ship upon the coast of_ India,
_should intitle the King of_ Spain _to that Countrey, as the sayling
of an_ Indian _or_ English _Ship upon the coast of_ Spain, _should
intitle either the_ Indians _or_ English _unto the Dominion thereof. No
question but the just right or title to those Countries appertains to
the Natives themselves; who, if they shall willingly and freely invite
the_ English _to their protection, what title soever they have in
them, no doubt but they may legally transferr it or communicate it to
others. And to say, That the inhumane butchery which the_ Indians _did
formerly commit in sacrificing of so many reasonable Creatures to their
wicked Idols, was a sufficient warrant for the_ Spaniards _to divest
them of their Country; The same argument may by much better reason be
inforced against the_ Spaniards _themselves, who have sacrificed so
many millions of_ Indians _to the Idol of their barbarous cruelty, that
many populous Islands and large Territories upon the main Continent,
are thereby at this day utterly uninhabited, as_ Bartholomeo de las
Casas, _the_ Spanish _Bishop of_ Guaxaca _in_ New-Spain, _hath by his
Writings in Print sufficiently testified. But to end all disputes of
this nature; since that God hath given the earth to the sons of Men
to inhabite; and that there are many
| 365.794285 | 1,742 |
2023-11-16 18:21:53.1404030
| 1,150 | 404 |
Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available at Google Books)
TALES OF ALL COUNTRIES.
BY
ANTHONY TROLLOPE,
AUTHOR OF
“THE WEST INDIES AND THE SPANISH MAIN,” “DOCTOR THORNE,”
“ORLEY FARM,” ETC.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.
1867.
[_The right of Translation is reserved._]
CONTENTS.
PAGE
LA MÈRE BAUCHE 1
THE O’CONORS OF CASTLE CONOR 30
JOHN BULL ON THE GUADALQUIVIR 43
MISS SARAH JACK, OF SPANISH TOWN, JAMAICA 70
THE COURTSHIP OF SUSAN BELL 93
RELICS OF GENERAL CHASSÉ 121
AN UNPROTECTED FEMALE AT THE PYRAMIDS 140
THE CHÂTEAU OF PRINCE POLIGNAC 107
AARON TROW 188
MRS. GENERAL TALBOYS 214
THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER OF OXNEY COLNE 235
GEORGE WALKER AT SUEZ 261
THE MISTLETOE BOUGH 278
RETURNING HOME 300
A RIDE ACROSS PALESTINE 320
THE HOUSE OF HEINE BROTHERS, IN MUNICH 354
THE MAN WHO KEPT HIS MONEY IN A BOX 377
_Republished from various Periodicals._
TALES OF ALL COUNTRIES.
LA MÈRE BAUCHE.
The Pyreneean valley in which the baths of Vernet are situated is not
much known to English, or indeed to any travellers. Tourists in search
of good hotels and picturesque beauty combined, do not generally extend
their journeys to the Eastern Pyrenees. They rarely get beyond Luchon;
and in this they are right, as they thus end their peregrinations at the
most lovely spot among these mountains, and are as a rule so deceived,
imposed on, and bewildered by guides, innkeepers, and horse-owners, at
this otherwise delightful place, as to become undesirous of further
travel. Nor do invalids from distant parts frequent Vernet. People of
fashion go to the Eaux Bonnes and to Luchon, and people who are really
ill to Baréges and Cauterets. It is at these places that one meets
crowds of Parisians, and the daughters and wives of rich merchants from
Bordeaux, with an admixture, now by no means inconsiderable, of
Englishmen and Englishwomen. But the Eastern Pyrenees are still
unfrequented. And probably they will remain so; for though there are
among them lovely valleys--and of all such the valley of Vernet is
perhaps the most lovely--they cannot compete with the mountain scenery
of other tourists-loved regions in Europe. At the Port de Venasquez and
the Brèche de Roland in the Western Pyrenees, or rather, to speak more
truly, at spots in the close vicinity of these famous mountain entrances
from France into Spain, one can make comparisons with Switzerland,
Northern Italy, the Tyrol, and Ireland, which will not be injurious to
the scenes then under view. But among the eastern mountains this can
rarely be done. The hills do not stand thickly together so as to group
themselves; the passes from one valley to another, though not wanting in
altitude, are not close pressed together with overhanging rocks, and are
deficient in grandeur as well as loveliness. And then, as a natural
consequence of all this, the hotels--are not quite as good as they
should be.
But there is one mountain among them which can claim to rank with the
Píc du Midi or the Maledetta. No one can pooh-pooh the stern old
Canigou, standing high and solitary, solemn and grand, between the two
roads which run from Perpignan into Spain, the one by Prades and the
other by Le Boulon. Under the Canigou, towards the west, lie the hot
baths of Vernet, in a close secluded valley, which, as I have said
before, is, as far as I know, the sweetest spot in these Eastern
Pyrenees.
The frequenters of these baths were a few years back gathered almost
entirely from towns not very far distant, from Perpignan, Narbonne,
Carcassonne, and Bézières, and the baths were not therefore famous,
expensive, or luxurious; but those who believed in them believed with
great faith; and it was certainly the fact that men and women who went
thither worn with toil, sick with excesses, and nervous through
over-care, came back fresh and strong, fit once more to attack the world
with all its woes. Their character in latter days does not seem to have
changed, though their circle of admirers may perhaps be somewhat
extended.
In those days,
| 366.459813 | 1,743 |
2023-11-16 18:21:53.2751260
| 1,099 | 410 |
Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
scanned images of public domain material from the Google
Print archive.
THE PROFESSOR'S MYSTERY
[Illustration: No good ever comes of half understandings]
THE PROFESSOR'S
MYSTERY
BY
WELLS HASTINGS
AND
BRIAN HOOKER
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HANSON BOOTH
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT 1911
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I IN WHICH THINGS ARE TURNED UPSIDE DOWN 1
II THE MEADOW OF ILLUSION 17
III AN ALARM IN THE NIGHT 26
IV AN INSULT IN THE MORNING 41
V BESIDE THE SUMMER SEA: AN INTERLUDE 51
VI A RETURN TO THE ORIGINAL THEME 65
VII SENTENCE OF BANISHMENT CONFIRMED WITH COSTS 77
VIII HOW WE MADE AN UNCONVENTIONAL JOURNEY TO TOWN 90
IX HOW WE ESCAPED FROM WHAT WE FOUND THERE 104
X AND HOW WE BROUGHT HOME A DIFFICULTY 116
XI EXPRESSIONS OF THE FAMILY AND IMPRESSIONS OF THE PRESS 127
XII AN AMATEUR MAN-HUNT WHEREIN MY OWN POSITION IS SOMEWHAT
ANXIOUS 143
XIII THE PRESENCE IN THE ROOM 161
XIV A DISAPPEARANCE AND AN ENCOUNTER 172
XV MENTAL RESERVATIONS 187
XVI MEAGER REVELATIONS 197
XVII THE BORDERLAND AND A NAME 212
XVIII DOCTOR REID REMOVES A SOURCE OF INFORMATION 223
XIX IN WHICH I CAN NOT BELIEVE HALF I HEAR 235
XX NOR UNDERSTAND ALL I SEE 247
XXI CONCERNING THE IDENTITY OF THE MAN WITH THE HIGH VOICE 258
XXII I LEARN WHAT I HAVE TO DO 271
XXIII I STAND BETWEEN TWO WORLDS 284
XXIV THE CONSULTATION OF AN EXPERT AND A LAYMAN 302
XXV FIGHTING WITH SHADOWS 317
XXVI AND REDISCOVERING REALITIES 332
THE PROFESSOR'S MYSTERY
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH THINGS ARE TURNED UPSIDE DOWN
"Has the two-forty-five for Boston gone yet?"
The train announcer looked at me a long time; then he shifted his plug
of tobacco to the other cheek and drawled:
"Naouw. Reported forty minutes late."
At this point I believe I swore. At least I have no recollection of not
doing so, and I should hardly have forgotten so eminent an act of virtue
under such difficult circumstances. It was not only that I had worked
myself into a heat for nothing. But the train could hardly fail of
losing yet more time on its way to Boston, and my chances of making the
steamer were about one in three. My trunk would go to Liverpool without
me, a prey to the inquisitive alien; and as for me I was at the mercy of
the steamship company. For a moment I wondered how I could possibly
have doubted my desire to go abroad that summer and to go on that boat
though the heavens fell. I thought insanely of automobiles and special
trains. Then came the reaction and I settled back comfortably hopeless
into the hands of fate. After all I did not care an improper fraction
whether I stayed or went: let the gods decide. Only I wished something
would happen. The shining rails reached away to lose themselves in a
haze of heat. Somewhere a switching engine was puffing like a tired dog.
Knots of listless humanity stood about under the dingy roof of the
platform; and the wind across the harbor brought a refreshing aroma of
tidal mud and dead clams. It occurred to me that my collar was rather
sticky on the inside.
I walked the platform fanning myself with my hat. I bought cigarettes,
magazines and a shine. I explored the station, scrutinizing faces and
searching vainly for matters of interest. I exhausted my resources in
filling up fifteen minutes, and the hand of the electric clock seemed as
tremulous with indecision as it had before been jerky with haste.
Nothing happened. Nothing would happen or could happen anywhere. Romance
was dead.
Feet scraped; a bell chattered; then breathing flame and smoke, and
with a shriek that would have put Saint George to utter rout, the down
express rumbled between me and the sky, and ground heavily to a
standstill. And there, framed in the wide Pullman window, was a face
that altered all the colors of the day, and sent me
| 366.594536 | 1,744 |
2023-11-16 18:21:53.6990870
| 7 | 136 |
Transcribed from the
| 367.018497 | 1,745 |
2023-11-16 18:21:53.7591410
| 4,078 | 42 |
Produced by RichardW and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by the Library of Congress)
HOCUS POCUS; OR THE WHOLE ART OF LEGERDEMAIN, IN PERFECTION. BY HENRY
DEAN.
[Illustration:
Strange feats are herein taught by slight of hand,
With which you may amuse yourself and friend,
The like in print was never seen before,
And so you’ll say when once you’ve read it o’er.
]
HOCUS POCUS;
OR THE WHOLE ART OF
_LEGERDEMAIN_,
IN PERFECTION.
By which the meaneſt capacity may perform the
whole without the help of a teacher.
_Together with the Uſe of all the Inſtruments_
_belonging thereto._
TO WHICH IS NOW ADDED,
Abundance of New and Rare Inventions.
BY HENRY DEAN.
_The ELEVENTH EDITION, with large_
_Additions and Amendments._
PHILADELPHIA:
PRINTED FOR MATHEW CAREY, NO. 118,
MARKET-STREET.
1795.
THE PREFACE TO THE READER.
KIND READER,
Having _in my former_ book _of_ LEGERDEMAIN, _promiſed you farther
improvements, accordingly I have diſcovered herein to you the greateſt
and moſt wonderful ſecrets of this_ ART, _never written or publiſhed
by any man before: therefore I do not doubt but herein you will find
pleaſure to your full ſatisfaction; which is all my deſire_.
HENRY DEAN.
The Whole ART of LEGERDEMAIN; OR, HOCUS POCUS IN PERFECTION, &c.
Legerdemain is an operation whereby one may seem to work wonderful,
impossible, and incredible things, by agility, nimbleness, and slight
of hand. The parts of this ingenious art, are principally four.
First, In conveyance of balls.
Secondly, In conveyance of money.
Thirdly, In cards,
Fourthly, In confederacy.
_A Description of the Operation._
1. He must be one of a bold and undaunted resolution, so as to set a
good face upon the matter.
2. He must have strange terms, and emphatical words, to grace and adorn
his actions; and the more to amaze and astonish the beholders.
3. And lastly, He must use such gestures of body, as may take off the
spectators eyes from a strict and diligent beholding his manner of
performance.
_How to pass the Balls through the Cups._
You must place yourself at the farther end of the table, and then you
must provide yourself three cups, made of tin, and then you must have
your black sticks of magic to shew your wonders withal; then you must
provide four small cork balls to play with; but do not let more than
three of them be seen upon the table.
Note. Always conceal one ball in the right hand, between your middle
finger and ring finger: and be sure make yourself perfect to hold it
there, for, by this means, all the tricks of the cups are done.
Then say as followeth.
_Gentlemen, three cups—’tis true_
_They are but tin, the reason why,_
_Silver is something dear._
_I’ll turn them in gold, if I live, &c._
_No equivocation at all:_
_But if your eyes are not as quick as my hands_
_I shall deceive you all._
_View them within,_
_View them all round about,_
_Where there is nothing in,_
_There’s nothing can come out._
Then take your four balls privately between your fingers, and so sling
one of them upon the table, and say thus,
_The first trick that e’er learn’d to do,_
_Was, out of one ball to make it into two:_
_Ah! since it cannot better be,_
_One of these two, I’ll divide them into three,_
_Which is call’d the first trick of dexterity._
So then you have three balls on the table to play with, and one left
between the fingers of your right hand.
_The Operation of the Cups is thus._
[Illustration]
Lay your three balls on the table, then say, Gentlemen, you see here
are three balls, and here are three cups, that is, a cup for each ball,
and a ball for each cup. Then, taking that ball that you had in your
right hand, (which you are always to keep private) and clapping it
under the first cup, then taking up one of the three balls, with your
right hand, seeming to put it into your left hand, but retain it still
in your right, shutting your left hand in due time, then say, _Presto,
be gone_.
[Illustration]
Then taking the second cup up, say, Gentlemen, you see there is nothing
under my cup; so clap the ball that you have in your right hand under
it, and then take the second ball up with your right hand, and seem to
put it into your left, but retain it in your right hand, shutting your
left in due time, as before, saying, _Verda, be gone_.
[Illustration]
Then take the third cup, saying, Gentlemen, you see there is nothing
under my last cup; then clapping the ball you have in your right hand
under it, then take the third ball up with your right hand, and seeming
to put it into your left hand, but retain it in your right; shutting
your left hand in due time, as before, saying, _Presto, make haste_; so
you have your three balls come under your three cups, as thus: and so
lay your three cups down on the table.
[Illustration]
Then with your right hand take up the first cup, and there clap that
ball under, that you have in your right hand; then saying, Gentlemen,
this being the first ball, I will put it into my pocket; but that you
must still keep in your hand to play withal.
[Illustration]
So take up the second cup with your right hand, and clap that ball you
have concealed under it, and then take up the second ball with your
right hand, and say, this likewise, I take and put into my pocket.
[Illustration]
Likewise, take up the third cup, and clapping the cup down again,
convey that ball you have in your right hand under the cup, then taking
the third ball, say, Gentlemen, this being the last ball, I take and
put this into my pocket. Afterwards say to the company, Gentlemen, by
a little of my fine powder of experience, I will command these balls
under the cups again. As thus,
[Illustration]
So lay them all along upon the table to the admiration of all the
beholders.
Then take up the first cup, and clap the ball you have in your right
hand under it, then taking the first ball up with your right hand, seem
to put the same into your left hand, but retain it still in your right,
then say, _Vade, quick be gone when I bid you, and run under the cup_.
[Illustration]
Then taking that cup up again, and flinging that you have in your
right hand under it, you must take up the second ball, and seem to
put it into your left hand, but retain it in your right hand, saying,
Gentlemen, see how the ball runs on the table.
So seemingly fling it away, and it will appear as thus.
[Illustration]
So taking the same cup again, then clapping the ball under again, as
before, then taking the third ball in your right hand, and seem to put
it under your left, but still retain it in your right, then with your
left hand seem to fling it in the cup, and it will appear thus; all the
three balls to be under one cup.
[Illustration]
And if you can perform these actions with the cups, you may change the
balls into apples pears, or plumbs, or to living birds, to what your
fancy leads you to. I would have given you more examples, but I think
these are sufficient for the ingenious, so that, by these means, you
may perform all manner of actions with the cups.
Note. The artificial cups cannot well be described by words, but you
may have them of me, for they are accounted the greatest secrets in
this art: therefore, I advise you to keep them as such, for this was
never known to the world before.
_How to shew the wonderful_ Magic Lanthorn.
This is the magic lanthorn that has made so much wonder in the world,
and that which Friar Bacon used to shew all his magical wonders withal.
This lanthorn is called magic, with respect to the formidable
apparitions that by virtue of light it shews upon the white wall of a
dark room. The body of it is generally made of tin, and of a shape of
the lamp; towards the back part, is a concave looking glass of metal,
which may either be spherical or parabolical, and which, by a grove
made in the bottom of the lanthorn, may either be advanced nearer or
put farther back from the lamp, in which is oil or spirit of wine, and
the match ought to be a little thick, that when it is lighted, it may
cast a good light that may easily reflect from the glass to the fore
part of the lanthorn, where there is an aperture with the perspective
in it, composed of two glasses that make the rays converge and magnify
the object.
When you mean to make use of this admirable machine, light the lamp,
the light of which will be much augmented by the looking glass at a
reasonable distance. Between the fore-part of the lanthorn, and the
perspective glass, you have a trough, made on purpose, in which you are
to run a long, flat thin frame with different figures, painted with
transparent colours upon glass; then all these little figures passing
successively before the perspective glass, thro’ which passes the light
of the lamp, will be painted, and represented with the same colours
upon the wall of a darkroom, in a gigantic and monstrous manner.
By this Lanthorn you may shew what man, or woman, or birds, or beasts,
and all sorts of fish that are in the sea: so if any gentleman has a
desire to furnish themselves with one of these lanthorns, I have the
best that can be made.
_The figure is as follows._
[Illustration]
_To seem to swallow a long pudding made of tin._
This pudding must be made of tin, consisting of twelve or thirteen
little hoops made as in the figure following, so as they may almost
seem to fall one through another, having little holes made at the
biggest end thereof, that it may not hurt your mouth, hold this pudding
(for so it is called) privately in your left hand, with the hole end
uppermost, and with your right hand take a ball out of your pocket,
and say, ‘If here is ever a maid, that has lost her maidenhead or an
old woman that is out of conceit with herself, because her neighbours
deem her not so young as she would be, let them come to me, for this
ball is a present remedy:’ then seem to put the ball into your left
hand, but let it slip into your lap, and clap your pudding into your
mouth, which will be thought to be the ball that you shewed them; then
decline your head, and open your mouth, and the pudding will slip
down at its full length, which with your right hand you may strike it
into your mouth again, doing this three or four times, then you may
discharge it into your hand, and clap it into your pocket without any
suspicion, by making three or four wry faces after it, as tho’ it stuck
in your throat, and if you practise smiting easily upon your throat
with your fist on each side, the pudding will seem to chink; as if it
were flying there; then say, ‘Thus they eat puddings in High Germany,
they fling it down their throats before their teeth can take possession
of it.’
[Illustration]
_To seem to eat knives and forks._
Desire any one of the spectators to lend you a knife, which when you
get hold of, so that you may cover the whole with both hands, the
end of the haft excepted, and setting the point to your eye, saying,
“Some body strike it with your fist,” but nobody will, because it is so
dangerous a thing; then setting your hand on the side of the table and
looking about you, ask, “What will nobody strike it in?” in which time
let the knife slip into your lap, then make as if you chop it hastily
into your mouth, or to hold it with one hand, and to strike it in with
the other nimbly, making three or four wry faces, saying, “Some drink,
some drink,” or else, “Now let somebody put his finger into my mouth,
and pull it out again,” some will cry, “You will bite me,” say, “I
will assure you I will not:” then when he hath put his finger in, he
will pull it out and cry, There is nothing; this is time sufficient to
convey the knife into your pocket; then say, Why, you have your finger
again: so, by this means, you may swallow knives and forks.
_To put a lock upon a man’s mouth._
You must have a lock made for this purpose, according to the figure;
one side of its bow must be immovable, as that marked with A, the other
side is noted with B, and must be pinned to the body of the lock, as
appears at E, I say it must be pinned that it may play to and fro with
ease; this side of the bow must have a leg as at C, and then turn it
into the lock; this leg must have two notches filled in the inner
side, which must be so ordered, that one may lock or hold the two sides
of the bow as close together as may be, and the other notch to hold the
said part of the bow a proportionable distance asunder, that, being
locked upon the cheek, it may neither pinch too hard, nor yet hold it
so slight that it may be drawn off; let there be a key fixed to it, to
unlock it, as you see at D, and lastly, let the bow have divers notches
filled in it, so that the place of the partition, when the lock is shut
home, will the least of all be suspected in the use of the lock; you
must get one to hold a tester edge long between his teeth, then take
another tester, and with your left hand proffer to set it edge-ways
between a second man’s teeth, pretending that your intent is to turn
both into which of their mouths they shall desire, by virtue of your
words: which he shall no sooner consent to do, but you, by holding your
lock privately in your right hand, with your fore-finger may flip it
over his cheek, and lock it by pressing your fore-finger a little down,
after some store of words, and the lock, having hung on a while, seem
to pull the key out of his nose.
You may have those locks neatly made, at my house, near the
watch-house, on little Tower-hill, Postern-row, a bookseller’s shop.
[Illustration]
_How to shew the magic bell and bushel._
This feat may well be called magical, for really it is very amazing, if
it be well handled. This device was never known to the public before.
This bushel must be turned neatly like unto the egg-boxes, so that they
cannot find out where it opens, and you must have a false lid to clap
on and off; upon that false lid glue some bird-feed, and then you must
have a true lid made to clap neatly upon the false one, now you must
have your artificial bell to shew with your bushel.
You may make your bell with wood or brass, your bell must be made to
unscrew at the top, that it may hold as much seed as your bushel will
when it is filled, and you must have the handle of your bell made with
a spring, so as to let the seed fall down at your word of command.
The manner how to use them is as followeth: Note, you must be sure to
fill the top of your bell with seed before you begin to shew; then
saying, Gentlemen, you see I have nothing in my bell (which they
cannot, if you hold it by the handle) nor have I any thing in my
bushel, therefore I will fill my bushel with seed, and, in filling it,
clap on the false lid, and no man can tell the contrary.
Then ask any body in the company to hold that seed in their hands and
you will command it all under the magical bell; so clap the true lid
on, and then ring your bell, and the seed will be gone out of your
bushel into your bell, to the admiration of all the beholders.
If you cannot rightly conceive this by words, you may have them of the
newest fashions, ready made, at my house.
[Illustration]
_How to put a ring through one’s cheek._
You must have two rings made of silver, or brass, or what you please,
of one bigness, colour, and likeness, saving that one must have a
notch through, and the other must be whole, without a notch; shew the
whole ring, and conceal that which hath the notch, and say, Now I will
put this ring through my check, and privately slip the notch over one
side of your mouth; then take a small stick which you must have in
readiness, and slip the whole ring upon it, holding your hand over it
about the middle of the stick; then bid somebody hold fast the stick at
both ends; and say, see this ring in my cheek, it turns round; then,
while you perceive them fasten their eyes upon that ring, on a sudden
whip it out, and smite upon the stick therewith, instantly concealing
it, and whirling the other ring, you hold your hand over
| 367.078551 | 1,746 |
2023-11-16 18:21:53.7692930
| 1,033 | 411 |
Produced by Gardner Buchanan
FRENZIED FICTION
By Stephen Leacock
CONTENTS
I. My Revelations as a Spy
II. Father Knickerbocker: A Fantasy
III. The Prophet in Our Midst
IV. Personal Adventures in the Spirit World
V. The Sorrows of a Summer Guest
VI. To Nature and Back Again
VII. The Cave-Man as He Is
VIII. Ideal Interviews--
I. With a European Prince
II. With Our Greatest Actor
III. With Our Greatest Scientist
IV. With Our Typical Novelists
IX. The New Education
X. The Errors of Santa Claus
XI. Lost in New York
XII. This Strenuous Age
XIII. The Old, Old Story of How Five Men Went Fishing
XIV. Back from the Land
XV. The Perplexity Column as Done by the Jaded Journalist
XVI. Simple Stories of Success, or How to Succeed in Life
XVII. In Dry Toronto
XVIII. Merry Christmas
I. My Revelations as a Spy
In many people the very name "Spy" excites a shudder of apprehension; we
Spies, in fact, get quite used to being shuddered at. None of us Spies
mind it at all. Whenever I enter a hotel and register myself as a Spy
I am quite accustomed to see a thrill of fear run round the clerks, or
clerk, behind the desk.
Us Spies or We Spies--for we call ourselves both--are thus a race apart.
None know us. All fear us. Where do we live? Nowhere. Where are we?
Everywhere. Frequently we don't know ourselves where we are. The secret
orders that we receive come from so high up that it is often forbidden
to us even to ask where we are. A friend of mine, or at least a Fellow
Spy--us Spies have no friends--one of the most brilliant men in the
Hungarian Secret Service, once spent a month in New York under the
impression that he was in Winnipeg. If this happened to the most
brilliant, think of the others.
All, I say, fear us. Because they know and have reason to know our
power. Hence, in spite of the prejudice against us, we are able to move
everywhere, to lodge in the best hotels, and enter any society that we
wish to penetrate.
Let me relate an incident to illustrate this: a month ago I entered one
of the largest of the New York hotels which I will merely call the B.
hotel without naming it: to do so might blast it. We Spies, in fact,
never _name_ a hotel. At the most we indicate it by a number known only
to ourselves, such as 1, 2, or 3.
On my presenting myself at the desk the clerk informed me that he had no
room vacant. I knew this of course to be a mere subterfuge; whether or
not he suspected that I was a Spy I cannot say. I was muffled up, to
avoid recognition, in a long overcoat with the collar turned up and
reaching well above my ears, while the black beard and the moustache,
that I had slipped on in entering the hotel, concealed my face. "Let
me speak a moment to the manager," I said. When he came I beckoned him
aside and taking his ear in my hand I breathed two words into it. "Good
heavens!" he gasped, while his face turned as pale as ashes. "Is it
enough?" I asked. "Can I have a room, or must I breathe again?" "No,
no," said the manager, still trembling. Then, turning to the clerk:
"Give this gentleman a room," he said, "and give him a bath."
What these two words are that will get a room in New York at once I must
not divulge. Even now, when the veil of secrecy is being lifted, the
international interests involved are too complicated to permit it.
Suffice it to say that if these two had failed I know a couple of others
still better.
I narrate this incident, otherwise trivial, as indicating the astounding
ramifications and the ubiquity of the international spy system. A
similar illustration occurs to me as I write. I was walking the other
day with another man, on upper B. way between the T. Building and the W.
Garden.
"Do you see that man over there?" I said, pointing from the side of
the street on which we were walking on the sidewalk to the other side
opposite to the side that we were
| 367.088703 | 1,747 |
2023-11-16 18:21:53.8244880
| 1,071 | 415 |
Produced by Chetan Jain, John B. Hare, and Christopher M.
Weimer. HTML version by Al Haines.
Markandeya Purana
Books VII and VIII.
JOURNAL
OF
THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.
[New Series, Volume XIII]
[London, Truebner and Company]
[1881]
Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, May 2002
ART. XIII.--__Translation of the Markandeya Purana__
Books VII. VIII. By the Rev. B. HALE WORTHAM.
BOOK VII.
ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king
Named Harischandra; pure in heart and mind,
In virtue eminent, he ruled the world,
Guarding mankind from evil. While he reigned
No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death
Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens
Of his fair city lawless. All their wealth,
And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled
Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth
And loveliness the women passed their days.
It so fell out, that while this mighty king
Was hunting in the forest, that he heard
The sound of female voices raised in cry
Of supplication. Then he turned and said,
Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop!
Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate,
That darest thus oppress the earth; while I,
The tamer of all evil, live and rule?"
Then, too, the fierce Ganesa,--he who blinds
The eyes, and foils the wills of men,--he heard
The cry, and thus within himself he thought:
"This surely is the great ascetic's work,
The mighty Visvamitra; he whose acts
Display the fruits of penance hard and sore.
Upon the sciences he shows his power,
While they, in patience, discipline of mind,
And silence perfected, cry out with fear,
'What shall we do? The illustrious Kausika
Is powerful; and we, compared with him,
Are feeble.' Thus they cry. What shall I do?
My mind is filled with doubt. Yet stay; a thought
Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries
Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him,
And entering his heart, I will fulfil
All my desire." Then filled with Rudra's son--
Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj--the king
Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here,
Binding the fire on his garment's hem,
While I, his king, in power and arms renowned,
Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought?
Surely the never-ending sleep of death
Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail,
Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow,
Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain."
Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled
With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences
Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.
But when the king beheld the pious sage
All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly,
And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves.
Then Visvamitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!"
And Harischandra, humbly falling down
Before the saint, in accents low and meek:
"O Lord! most holy! most adorable!
Oh, blame me not! This is no fault of mine!
My duty calls," he said, "I must obey."
"Is it not written in the Holy Law,
'Alms must be given by a virtuous king;
His people must be fought for, and be kept
From every ill'?" Then Visvamitra spoke
And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms?
For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom
Should'st thou protect? Oh, tell me, nor delay,
But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin."
"Alms should be given to Brahmans," said the king:
"Those who are weak should be protected: foes
In battle should be met and overcome."
Then Visvamitra spoke and said: "O king!
If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive
Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me;
I am a holy Brahman, and I seek
A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain
A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms."
The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy,
Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said:
| 367.143898 | 1,748 |
2023-11-16 18:21:54.0244690
| 1,099 | 414 |
Produced by MWS, Graeme Mackreth 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.)
[Illustration: THE IDOL OF BUDDHA]
THE
ROMANCE OF THE HAREM.
BY
MRS. ANNA H. LEONOWENS,
AUTHOR OF "THE ENGLISH GOVERNESS AT THE SIAMESE COURT."
Illustrated.
[Illustration: THE EMERALD IDOL.]
BOSTON:
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,
LATE TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO.
1873.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872,
BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO., CAMBRIDGE.
PREFACE.
"Truth is often stranger than fiction," but so strange will some of the
occurrences related in the following pages appear to Western readers,
that I deem it necessary to state that they are also true. Most of the
stories, incidents, and characters are known to me personally to be
real, while of such narratives as I received from others I can say that
"I tell the tale as it was told to me," and written down by me at the
time. In some cases I have substituted fictitious for real names, in
order to shield from what might be undesired publicity persons still
living.
I gladly acknowledge my indebtedness to Mr. Francis George Shaw for
valuable advice and aid in the preparation of this work for the
press, and to Miss Sarah Bradley, daughter of the Rev. Dr. Bradley of
Bangkok, for her kindness in providing me with photographs, otherwise
unattainable, for some of the illustrations.
NEW BRIGHTON, STATEN ISLAND,
September 13, 1872.
DEDICATION.
To the noble and devoted women whom I learned to know, to esteem, and
to love in the city of the Nang Harm, I dedicate the following pages,
containing a record of some of the events connected with their lives
and sufferings.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
I. The Idol of Buddha _Frontispiece._
II. The Emerald Idol _Vignette._
III. A Siamese Slave-Girl Page 32
IV. A Siamese Flower-Girl " 48
V. Guard of Amazons " 64
VI. Palm-Trees near the New Road, Bangkok " 80
VII. A Young Siamese Nobleman " 104
VIII. Smâyâtee " 120
IX. A Royal Actress " 128
X. Rungeah, the Cambodian Proselyte " 144
XI. Ladies of the Royal Harem at Dinner " 160
XII. A Laotian " 168
XIII. Crenellated Towers of the Inner City " 176
XIV. An Amazon of the Royal Body Guard " 184
XV. Queen of Siam " 240
XVI. King of Siam " 264
XVII. Temple and Ruins of Kampoot " 270
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. "Muang Thai," or the Kingdom of the Free 1
II. Tuptim: A Tragedy of the Harem 14
III. Tuptim's Trial 25
IV. The King changes his Mind 35
V. Slavery in the Grand Royal Palace of the "Invincible
and Beautiful Archangel" 42
VI. Khoon Thow App, the Chief of the Female Judges 58
VII. The Rajpoot and his Daughter 65
VIII. Among the Hills of Orissa 72
IX. The Rebel Duke P'haya Si P'hifoor 77
X. The Grandson of Somdetch Ong Yai, and his Tutor
P'hra Chow Sâduman 84
XI. The Heroism of a Child 102
XII. The Interior of the Duke Chow P'haya Mândtree's
Harem 107
XIII. A Night of Mysteries 112
XIV. "Weeping may endure for a Night, but Joy cometh in
the Morning" 118
XV. The Favorite of the Harem 122
XVI. May-Peâh, the Laotian Slave-Girl 145
XVII. An Accidental Discovery of the Whereabouts of the
Princess Sunartha Vismita
| 367.343879 | 1,749 |
2023-11-16 18:21:54.1792790
| 238 | 14 |
Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Emmy and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was made using scans of public domain works in the
International Children's Digital Library.)
[Illustration: _The Fairy Violet's introduction to the Fire-King._]
HOW THE FAIRY VIOLET
LOST AND WON
HER WINGS.
BY MARIANNE L. B. KER.
_Author of "Eva's Victory," "Sybil Grey," &c._
ILLUSTRATED BY J. A. MARTIN.
[Illustration]
LONDON:
GRIFFITH AND FARRAN, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD.
1872.
HOW THE FAIRY VIOLET
LOST AND WON HER WINGS.
The Fairy Violet lived in the heart of a beautiful forest, where,
through the glad spring months, the sun shone softly, and the bright
flowers bloomed, and now and then the gentle rain fell in silver drops
that made every green thing on
| 367.498689 | 1,750 |
2023-11-16 18:21:54.4149180
| 685 | 137 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: The first Legislative Assembly of Vancouver Island
_Back Row_--J. W. M'Kay, J. D. Pemberton, J. Porter (Clerk)
_Front Row_--T. J. Skinner, J. S. Helmcken, M. D., James Yates
After a Photograph]
THE
CARIBOO TRAIL
A Chronicle of the Gold-fields
of British Columbia
BY
AGNES C. LAUT
TORONTO
GLASGOW, BROOK & COMPANY
1916
_Copyright in all Countries subscribing to
the Berne Convention_
{v}
CONTENTS
Page
I. THE 'ARGONAUTS'............. 1
II. THE PROSPECTOR ............. 16
III. CARIBOO................. 33
IV. THE OVERLANDERS............. 53
V. CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS ......... 68
VI. QUESNEL AND KAMLOOPS .......... 80
VII. LIFE AT THE MINES............ 88
VIII. THE CARIBOO ROAD ............ 99
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE .......... 110
INDEX.................. 112
{vii}
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE FIRST LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLY OF
VANCOUVER ISLAND................... _Frontispiece_
After a photograph.
THE CARIBOO COUNTRY ................. _Facing page_ 1
Map by Bartholomew.
SIR JAMES DOUGLAS ................... " " 10
From a portrait by Savannah.
INDIANS NEAR NEW WESTMINSTER, B.C............ " " 12
From a photograph by Maynard.
IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS................. " " 28
From a photograph.
A GROUP OF THOMPSON RIVER INDIANS ........... " " 36
From a photograph by Maynard.
SIR MATTHEW BAILLIE BEGBIE...............
| 367.734328 | 1,751 |
2023-11-16 18:21:54.5144390
| 1,020 | 502 |
Produced by Carlo Traverso, Michelle Shephard and
Distributed Proofreaders. HTML version by Al Haines.
THE ROOF OF FRANCE
OR
THE CAUSSES OF THE LOZERE
BY
M. BETHAM-EDWARDS
To M. SADI CARNOT.
THIS VOLUME, THE THIRD OF MY PUBLISHED TRAVELS IN FRANCE, IS INSCRIBED
WITH ALL RESPECT TO HER HONOURED PRESIDENT.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY
PART I.
_MY FIRST JOURNEY IN SEARCH OF THE CAUSSES_.
CHAP.
I. FROM LE PUY TO MENDE
II. MENDE
III. A GLIMPSE OF THE CAUSSES
IV. ON THE TOP OF THE ROOF
V. RODEZ AND AURILLAC
VI. THE LAND OF THE BURON
PART II.
_MY SECOND JOURNEY IN SEARCH OF THE CAUSSES._
I. THROUGH THE MORVAN
II. THROUGH THE MORVAN (_continued_)
III. FROM LYONS TO AVIGNON BY THE RHONE
IV. AVIGNON AND ORANGE
V. LE VIGAN
VI. NANT (AVEYRON)
VII. MILLAU (AVEYRON)
VIII. FROM MENDE TO ST. ENIMIE
IX. ST. ENIMIE
X. THE CAÑON OF THE TARN
XI. SHOOTING THE RAPIDS
XII. LE ROZIER
XIII. MONTPELLIER-LE-VIEUX
XIV. MONTPELLIER-LE-VIEUX (_continued_)
XV. LE ROZIER TO MILLAU AND RODEZ
XVI. RODEZ, VIC-SUR-CERE REVISITED.--A BREAKFAST ON THE BANKS OF THE
SAONE
INTRODUCTORY.
It is upon this occasion my rare and happy privilege to introduce the
reader to something absolutely new. How many English-speaking tourists
have found their way to the Roof of France--in other words, the ancient
Gevaudan, the romantic department of the Lozere? How many English--or
for the matter of that French travellers either--have so much as heard
of the Causses, [Footnote: From calx, lime] those lofty tablelands of
limestone, groups of a veritable archipelago, once an integral whole,
now cleft asunder, forming the most picturesque gorges and magnificent
defiles; offering contrasts of scenery as striking as they are sublime,
and a phenomenon unique in geological history? On the plateau of the
typical Causse, wide in extent as Dartmoor, lofty as Helvellyn, we
realize all the sombreness and solitude of the Russian steppe. These
stony wastes, aridity itself, yet a carpet of wild-flowers in spring,
are sparsely peopled by a race having a peculiar language, a
characteristic physique, and primitive customs. Here are laboriously
cultivated oats, rye, potatoes--not a blade of wheat, not an apple-tree
is to be discerned; no spring or rivulet freshens the parched soil. The
length and severity of the winter are betokened by the trees and poles
seen at intervals on either side of the road. But for such precautions,
even the native wayfarer would be lost when six feet of snow cover the
ground. Winter lasts eight months, and the short summer is tropical.
But descend these grandiose passes, dividing one limestone promontory
from another--go down into the valleys, each watered by lovely rivers,
and we are, as if by magic, transported into the South! The peach, the
almond, the grape ripen out of doors; all is smilingness, fertility,
and grace. The scenery of the Causses may be described as a series of
exhilarating surprises, whilst many minor attractions contribute to the
stranger's enjoyment.
The affability, dignity, and uprightness of these mountaineers, their
freedom from vulgarity, subservience, or habits of extortion, their
splendid physique and great personal beauty, form novel experiences of
travel. The general character of the people--here I do not allude to
the 'Caussenard,' or dweller on the Causse alone, but to the Lozerien
as a type--may be gathered from one isolated fact. The summer sessions
of 1888 were what is called _assizes blanches_, there being not a
single cause to try. Such an occurrence is not unusual in this
department.
The Lozere, hitherto the Cinderella, poorest
| 367.833849 | 1,752 |
2023-11-16 18:21:54.6209050
| 1,315 | 144 |
Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
Transcriber's notes:
1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/chevalierdauriac00leverich
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
The
CHEVALIER D'AURIAC
BY
S. LEVETT YEATS
AUTHOR OF "THE HONOUR OF SAVELLI"
ETC.
NEW YORK
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON AND BOMBAY
1897
Copyright, 1896 and 1897
By S. LEVETT YEATS
* * *
_All rights reserved_.
FIRST EDITION, MARCH, 1897
REPRINTED, AUGUST, AND SEPTEMBER, 1897
TROW DIRECTORY
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
NEW YORK
THE CHEVALIER D'AURIAC
TO THE
CHUMMERY OF THE PALMS
I DEDICATE THIS, IN MEMORY OF CERTAIN
RED-HOT DAYS
S. L. Y.
PREFACE
This story, like its predecessor, has been written in those rare
moments of leisure that an Indian official can afford. Bits of time
were snatched here and there, and much, perhaps too much, reliance has
had to be placed on memory, for books there were few or none to refer
to. Occasionally, too, inspiration was somewhat rudely interrupted.
Notably in one instance, in the Traveller's Bungalow at Hassan Abdal
(Moore's Lalla Rookh was buried hard by), when a bat, after making an
ineffectual swoop at a cockroach, fell into the very hungry author's
soup and put an end to dinner and to fancy. There is an anachronism in
the tale, in which the writer finds he has sinned with M. C. de
Remusat in "Le Saint-Barthelemy." The only excuse the writer has for
not making the correction is that his object is simply to enable a
reader to pass away a dull hour.
Umballa Cantonments,
March 16, 1896.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
The Justice of M. de Rone.
CHAPTER II.
M. de Rone Cannot Read a Cypher.
CHAPTER III.
The Red Cornfield.
CHAPTER IV.
The Chateau de la Bidache.
CHAPTER V.
A Good Deed Comes Home to Roost.
CHAPTER VI.
'Green as a Jade Cup.'
CHAPTER VII.
Poor Nicholas!
CHAPTER VIII.
Monsieur de Preaulx.
CHAPTER IX.
The Master-General.
CHAPTER X.
An Old Friend.
CHAPTER XI.
A Swim in the Seine.
CHAPTER XII.
Monsieur Ravaillac does not Suit.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Louvre.
CHAPTER XIV.
Under the Limes.
CHAPTER XV.
The Hand of Babette.
CHAPTER XVI.
A Council of War.
CHAPTER XVII.
Maitre Pantin Sells Cabbages.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Skylight in the Toison d'Or.
CHAPTER XIX.
'Plain Henri de Bourbon.'
CHAPTER XX.
At the Sign of 'The Toison d'Or.'
PRELUDE
I.
In no secret shrine doth my Lady sleep,
But is ever before mine eyes;
By well or ill, by wrong or right--
By the burning sun, or the moon's pale light--
Where the tropics fire or the fulmar flies,
In rest or stormful fight.
II.
Good hap with the strong fierce winds that blow;
Man holdeth the world in fee.
By the light of her face, by my Lady's grace,
Spread we our sails to the sea.
With God above and our hearts below,
Fight we the fight for weal or woe.
III.
Good hap with the strong fierce winds that blow,
God rest their souls who die!
By my Lady's grace, by her pure, pale face
My pennon flies in its pride of place;
Where my pennon flies am I.
IV.
Nor wind nor storm may turn me back,
For I see the beacon fire.
And time shall yield a hard fought field,
And, with God's help, an unstained shield
I win my heart's desire.
S. L. Y.
(_Vanity Fair_.)
THE CHEVALIER D'AURIAC
CHAPTER I
THE JUSTICE OF M. DE RONE
'_Mille diables!_ Lost again! The devil runs in those dice!' and de
Gomeron, with an impatient sweep of his hand, scattered the little
spotted cubes on to the floor of the deserted and half-ruined hut,
wherein we were beguiling the weariness of our picket duty before La
Fere, with a shake of our elbows, and a few flagons of wine, captured
from Monsieur the King of Navarre, as we, in our folly, called him
still.
A few days before we had cut out a convoy which the Bearnais was
sending into the beleaguered town. Some of the good things the convoy
bore found their way to the outposts; and on the night I speak of we
had made such play with our goblets that it was as if a swarm of bees
buzzed in my head. As for de Gomeron, he was in no better case, and
his sun-tanned face was burning a purple red with anger at his losses
and the strength of the d'Arbois, both of which combined to give a
more than usually sinister look to his grim and lowering features. In
short, we were each of us in a condition ripe for any mischief: I hot
with wine and the fire of five-and-twenty years, and de Gomeron
| 367.940315 | 1,753 |
2023-11-16 18:21:55.0433960
| 4,083 | 42 |
Produced by Paul Haxo from page images graciously made
available by the Internet Archive and the University of
California.
SINGLE LIFE;
A COMEDY,
In Three Acts,
BY
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE, ESQ.,
(MEMBER OF THE DRAMATIC AUTHORS' SOCIETY,)
AS PERFORMED AT THE
THEATRE ROYAL, HAY-MARKET.
CORRECTLY PRINTED FROM THE PROMPTER'S COPY, WITH THE
CAST OF CHARACTERS, COSTUME, SCENIC ARRANGEMENT,
SIDES OF ENTRANCE AND EXIT, AND RELATIVE
POSITIONS OF THE DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
SPLENDIDLY ILLUSTRATED WITH AN ETCHING,
BY PIERCE EGAN, THE YOUNGER, FROM A DRAWING TAKEN
DURING THE REPRESENTATION.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 186, STRAND.
"NASSAU STEAM PRESS,"
W. S. JOHNSON, 6, NASSAU STREET, SOHO.
Dramatis Personae and Costume.
_First produced, Tuesday, July 23rd, 1839._
BACHELORS.
MR. JOHN NIGGLE _(A fluctuating bachelor.)_ }
Light drab coat, white waistcoat, nankeen } MR. WEBSTER.
pantaloons, white stockings, shoes, white wig }
tied in a tail, white hat }
MR. DAVID DAMPER _(A woman-hating bachelor.)_ }
Brown coat with black horn buttons, old }
fashioned dark figured silk waistcoat, black } MR. STRICKLAND.
pantaloons, hessian boots, iron-grey wig, }
broad-brimmed hat }
MR. PETER PINKEY _(A bashful bachelor.)_ }
Lavender coloured coat, white waistcoat, }
white trowsers, pink socks, pumps, pink silk } MR. BUCKSTONE.
neckerchief, pink gloves, pink watch ribbon, }
low crowned hat and cane, flaxen fashionably }
dressed wig }
MR. NARCISSUS BOSS _(A self-loving }
bachelor.)_ Fashionable chocolate-coloured }
Newmarket coat with roses in the buttonhole, }
elegantly flowered waistcoat, light drab } MR. W. LACY.
French trowsers with boots, light blue cravat }
exquisitely tied, frilled shirt, hat, and }
wristbands a la D'Orsay, and the hair dressed }
in the first style of elegance }
MR. CHARLES CHESTER _(A mysterious }
bachelor.)_ Dark frock coat, silk waistcoat, } MR. HEMMING.
light trowsers, French gaiters and shoes, }
round hat }
SPINSTERS.
MISS CAROLINE COY _(A vilified spinster.)_ }
Grey silk dress, laced shawl and white } MRS. W. CLIFFORD.
ribbons, white satin bonnet, flowers, long }
yellow gloves, white reticule }
MISS MARIA MACAW _(A man-hating spinster.)_ }
Green silk open dress, white petticoat, }
figured satin large apron, lace handkerchief, } MRS. GLOVER.
close lace cap and white ribbons, fan, and }
black rimmed spectacles }
MISS KITTY SKYLARK _(A singing spinster.)_ }
White muslin pelisse over blue, chip hat and } MRS. FITZWILLIAM.
flowers. _(2nd dress.)_ Pink satin and blond }
flounces }
MISS SARAH SNARE _(An insinuating }
spinster.)_, _1st dress._ White muslin }
petticoat, black velvet spencer, pink satin } MRS. DANSON.
high-crowned bonnet and green feathers. _(2nd }
dress.)_ Green satin and pink ribbons, black }
wig dressed in high French bows }
MISS JESSY MEADOWS _(A romantic spinster.)_ }
White muslin dress mittens. _(2nd dress in } MISS TRAVERS.
the last scene.)_ White lace over white satin }
with roses }
Time of representation, 2 hours.
EXPLANATION OF THE STAGE DIRECTIONS.
L. means first entrance, left. R. first entrance, right. S.E.L. second
entrance, left. S.E.R. second entrance, right. U.E.L. upper entrance,
left. U.E.R. upper entrance, right. C. centre, L.C. left centre. R.C.
right centre. T.E.L. third entrance, left. T.E.R. third entrance,
right. Observing you are supposed to face the audience.
ADVERTISEMENT.
"SINGLE LIFE" is intended as a companion picture to the same author's
Comedy of "MARRIED LIFE;" and as that attempted to illustrate a few of
the humours of the state matrimonial, and interest an audience without
the introduction of any lovers whatever, in going to the opposite
extreme in "SINGLE LIFE," and making his characters "_Lovers all,_" he
has been equally successful in pourtraying some of the vagaries of
courtship, and showing that the democratic region of celibacy has its
bickerings, as well as the most loyal one of "The United States."
SINGLE LIFE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.--_An apartment at MR. NIGGLE'S. A sideboard, with cupboard,
on the U.E.R. Window, with curtains, on the F.E.L. A round table, L.,
chairs, &c._
_MISS SNARE discovered seated at table, L., looking over the books,
&c._
MISS SNA. _(Reading.)_ "The Young Man's best Companion"--a very
excellent book for youth; but at Mr. Niggle's age, he ought to possess
_his_ best companion in a devoted and amiable wife; heigho! What a
treasure _I_ should be to any man that could properly understand me.
_(Takes up another book.)_ "The Epistles of Abelard and Heloise." I am
pleased to see this book on his table, it proves that he possesses a
taste for sentiment of the highest order, and can admire devotedness
and passion under the most trying circumstances. "The Newgate
Calender." Bless the man, what can induce him to have such a book as
this in his house; surely he can have no sympathy with housebreakers
and assassins? I must look to this: should I ever be the mistress
here, some of these volumes must be removed--this furniture too--very
well for a bachelor; but when he is married, a change must be made.
And those curtains, how slovenly they are put up. Ah, any one can
discover the want of a presiding female hand in a bachelor's
house--where is the neatness, the order, and the good taste that
prevails in all the arrangements, where the master of the house is a
married man. If ever I am Mrs. Niggle, down shall come those curtains,
away shall go that sideboard, off shall go those chairs, and as for
this table--let me look at its legs----_(Lifts up the cover and
examines the legs of it.)_
[_DAMPER peeps in, F.E.L._
DAM. Hollo! hollo!
MISS SNA. Oh! how you frightened me.
DAM. It's a very suspicious thing when an old maid examines a
bachelor's furniture.
MISS SNA. Good morning, Mr. Damper, I was merely observing Mr.
Niggle's table legs.
DAM. (L.) Ah! when an old maid finds herself on her own last legs,
'tis time she should observe those of other people.
MISS SNA. (L.) What a censorious man you are, Mr. Damper, you rail at
our sex as if you considered it man's natural enemy, instead of his
best friend. Is it possible that you have never loved a woman in all
your life?
DAM. I love a woman! Ugh! I look upon you all as the first great cause
of every evil.
MISS SNA. For, like most first great causes, you don't understand us.
DAM. If I don't, I have no wish to acquire any such useless knowledge.
May I ask what you want at my friend Niggle's, so early in the
morning: some conspiracy, I'll be bound. I wont allow it, Miss Snare;
if you think to inveigle him into matrimony, you'll find yourself
mistaken; he shall never marry, if I can prevent him making such a
ninny of himself.
MISS SNA. It is entirely through your interference, I have been told,
that he is in a state of celibacy; and, though the poor gentleman is
now fifty-five, yet ever since he arrived at years of discretion, he
has been sighing and pining for a wife.
DAM. He would have been a ruined man long ago, but for me; five times
have I saved him from the matrimonial precipice.
MISS SNA. How did you save him?
DAM. How? I have discovered his intention to marry, and knowing how
nervous he is upon the subject, I have always interfered in time, told
him in strong language the evils he was bringing upon his head,
brought instances of married misery so plainly before his eyes, that I
have frightened him out of his wits; and one morning, eight years ago,
he was actually dressed and on his way to church to unite himself to
some designing woman, when I luckily met him, and dragged him back
again by the collar.
MISS SNA. And he had to pay five hundred pounds damages, in an action
for breach of promise.
DAM. But he purchased independence and happiness with the money. I
have been his best friend through life; didn't I go out with him when
he was challenged by a young lady's brother, twenty years ago, because
I made him relinquish his attentions to her? And though he has been
shot at and caned, and has paid damages in two actions for breach of
promise, yet by meeting those small evils, he has escaped that far
greater one--_a wife;_ and every morning when he rises a free man, I
know he invokes a blessing on my head. _(Sits at table, L.)_
MISS SNA. _(Aside.)_ Oh, you monster, you ought to be poisoned. _(Sits
R.)_
[_NIGGLE opens folding doors at back, and looks at them._
NIG. Why the deuce don't they go away? What do they want here?
Confound them!
[_Disappears._
DAM. Where is Niggle? I wish most particularly to see him. Has he
shown himself yet?
MISS SNA. I have been waiting for him this half hour, to solicit his
vote for a beadle.
DAM. A beadle! To persuade him to call on the parish clerk, more
likely. It wont do, Miss Snare, you don't catch him in _your_ net.
_(Aside.)_ Surely it can't be this dangerous woman that he is going to
make a fool of himself with. She sha'n't have him--nobody shall have
him.
[_NIGGLE peeps from doors, again._
NIG. I wish they'd go.
DAM. _(Seeing him.)_ Hollo! there you are; come here, sir, and let me
examine you.
NIG. _(Advancing, C.)_ David, I will no longer allow this continued
intrusion on my privacy; and, Miss Snare, I do not wish to offend, but
really your continued calls upon _me_, at all hours, are somewhat
indecorous. The neighbours begin to talk, and I must check them. What
may you want this morning?
MISS SNA. I am sure, sir, I was not aware that my friendly visits
could cause anybody to talk, or at least be annoying to you; however,
I shall not intrude again--you know why I called yesterday.
NIG. To give me a pincushion, made by yourself, in the form of a
heart.
DAM. A dead set at you, John, clear as daylight--a dead set at you.
Oh! miss, I'm ashamed of you.
MISS SNA. For what, sir? He complained, a few days since, that he was
without a pincushion, and could never recollect to purchase one; and
where was the harm, sir, in my supplying such a trifling want: I shall
not be so attentive _again_, be assured. As for my call this morning,
it was on parish business--a motive of charity; but since my little
acts of friendship are so sternly checked, of course those of charity
must suffer at the same time. And I did hope to have your company to
tea, to-morrow.
NIG. Well, well, I know and appreciate your motives; but you always
contrive to call when I'm occupied, when I don't want to be
disturbed--and _this_ morning, I particularly wish to be quite alone.
_(Double knock without.)_ Another call! Dear, dear, that is the worst
of being a bachelor; everybody walks into his house whenever they
please--no announcement, no ceremony, in they bounce with--"How are
you? how do? only _me_." And sit themselves down, and take up this,
and throw down that. Oh, I wish I had the courage to take a wife.
_(Looking at his watch.)_ How the time is getting on--quarter past
nine--we were to have been at church at ten, the latest. _(MISS KITTY
SKYLARK heard without, running a cadence.)_ Oh, dear! it's that
abominable singing lady; what the deuce brings her here? Her
conversation is so interspersed with singing, that she's a complete
human burletta--I shall never get rid of her. How shall I escape out
of the house.
_MISS KITTY SKYLARK enters, F.E.L., with a roll of music in her hand._
MISS SKY. Oh, good morning, good people--didn't expect to find any one
here so early. I've got it for you, Mr. Niggle.
NIG. Got what?
MISS SKY. The song that you were trying to sing the other evening,
"The Bay of Biscay," you know you first got out of tune, then you
broke down altogether. I have bought the correct copy for you, and, if
you'll allow me, I'll teach it you. _(Sings.)_ "As we lay, all that
day, in the bay--" that's where you went astray, in the high note--"In
the bay--" You must practice it twenty times a day--"Of Biscay, O!"
NIG. You're very kind, indeed, miss; but this morning, I've no time to
practice high notes. _(Aside.)_ I must turn them all out by force.
MISS SKY. Well, well, any other day then. I've a charming song for
_you_, Mr. Damper, just suited to your deep bass. _(Sings.)_ "While
the wolf with nightly prowl"----An excellent song for you--you hate us
women, you know; and, as the savage wolf howls at the sweet and
silvery moon, so do you rail at us radiant creatures. Ah! good
morning, Miss Snare, I've not forgotten _you_ either; I've picked up
an old ditty that will be the very thing for you. _(Sings.)_ "Nobody
coming to marry me, nobody coming to woo--wo--o--o--o--woo--o----"
MISS SNA. Insulting creature! _(Regards her with every expression of
contempt.)_
[_MISS SKYLARK_ points out the notes on paper to NIGGLE, who is
fidgetting to get away._
DAM. _(Aside.)_ Poor Niggle's in a hopeful way; one woman wants to
teach him to sing "The Bay of Biscay," and another is continually
calling on him with pincushions. I must keep my eye upon him.
NIG. _(Aside.)_ Another ten minutes gone. What shall I do? _(Looks at
his watch.)_
MISS SKY. Oh, what do you think, while I was in the music-shop this
morning, I heard such scandal; it seems to be all over the town. I
never was so shocked in all my life--and of a lady, too, that we
always considered so very correct in her conduct.
MISS SNA. Do you allude to Miss Coy?
MISS SKY. I do.
DAM. What, have _you_ heard? so have I.
NIG. _(Looking anxiously from one to another.)_ What? what?
MISS SKY. I cant repeat it, especially as she's an acquaintance; were
it a stranger, I should not hesitate; but to retail anything against
one's _friends_, is so ungenerous.
DAM. Come here. Was it that she----_(Whispers.)_
MISS SKY. Yes. Could you have believed it?
DAM. Oh, woman, woman, just like you.
MISS SNA. I think I can guess the nature of the report--quite a
full-grown young man, I hear.
DAM. Quite full-grown--five-and-twenty.
MISS SNA. Shocking! shocking!
MISS SKY. Dreadful!
DAM. Horrible!
NIG. What is it? Am I to be the only person in ignorance of anything
derogatory to the reputation of Miss Coy?
MISS SKY. The fact is, Mr. Niggle, we don't wish to wound your
feelings. Oh, you sly man, do you think your attentions to Miss Coy,
have passed unnoticed. Gallanting her home from parties, running of
errands for her, sitting on a post opposite to her window of an
evening, when the weather has been mild enough, taking walks, and
taking tea, and playing at double dummy by moonlight. Oh, shocking!
shocking! _(Sings.)_ "Can love be controlled by advice? Will Cupid his
mother obey."
NIG. Pray don't be musical at such a moment, miss, pray, don't. _One_
shakes her head and cries "shocking," another ejaculates "dreadful
| 368.362806 | 1,754 |
2023-11-16 18:21:55.5993600
| 9 | 166 |
Produced by MWS, Charlie
| 368.91877 | 1,755 |
2023-11-16 18:21:55.7241550
| 421 | 93 |
***
[Johann Sebastian Bach]
_Johann Sebastian Bach. About 1720. (From the picture by Johann Jakob
Ihle, in the Bach Museum, Eisenach)._
Johann Sebastian Bach
His Life, Art and Work. Translated from the German of Johann Nikolaus
Forkel. With notes and appendices by Charles Sanford Terry, Litt.D.
Cantab.
Johann Nikolaus Forkel and Charles Sanford Terry
Harcourt, Brace and Howe, New York
1920
CONTENTS
Introduction
FORKEL'S PREFACE
CHAPTER I. THE FAMILY OF BACH
Chapter II. THE CAREER OF BACH
CHAPTER IIA. BACH AT LEIPZIG, 1723-1750
CHAPTER III. BACH AS A CLAVIER PLAYER
CHAPTER IV. BACH THE ORGANIST
CHAPTER V. BACH THE COMPOSER
CHAPTER VI. BACH THE COMPOSER (continued)
CHAPTER VII. BACH AS A TEACHER
CHAPTER VIII. PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
CHAPTER IX. BACH'S COMPOSITIONS
CHAPTER X. BACH'S MANUSCRIPTS
CHAPTER XI. THE GENIUS OF BACH
APPENDIX I. CHRONOLOGICAL CATALOGUE OF BACH'S COMPOSITIONS
APPENDIX II. THE CHURCH CANTATAS ARRANGED CHRONOLOGICALLY
APPENDIX III. THE BACHGESELLSCHAFT EDITIONS OF BACH'S WORKS
APPENDIX IV. BIBLIOGRAPHY OF BACH LITERATURE
APPENDIX V. A COLLATION OF THE NOVELLO AND PETERS EDITIONS OF THE ORGAN
WORKS
APPENDIX VI. GENEALOGY OF THE FAMILY OF BACH
Footnotes
ILLUSTRATIONS
_Johann Sebastian Bach. About 1720. (From the
| 369.043565 | 1,756 |
2023-11-16 18:21:55.8543990
| 1,200 | 526 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) Music by Linda Cantoni.
Second
BOOK OF VERSE
BY EUGENE FIELD
Second Book of Tales.
Songs and Other Verse.
The Holy Cross and Other Tales.
The House.
The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac.
A Little Book Of Profitable Tales.
A Little Book of Western Verse.
Second Book of Verse.
Each, 1 vol., 16mo, $1.25
A Little Book of Profitable Tales.
Cameo Edition with etched portrait. 16mo, $1.25.
Echoes from the Sabine Farm.
4to, $2.00
With Trumpet and Drum.
16mo, $1.00.
Love Songs of Childhood.
16mo, $1.00.
Second
BOOK OF VERSE
BY
EUGENE FIELD
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1896
_Copyright, 1892_,
BY JULIA SUTHERLAND FIELD.
_A little bit of a woman came
Athwart my path one day;
So tiny was she that she seemed to be
A pixy strayed from the misty sea,
Or a wandering greenwood fay._
_"Oho, you little elf!" I cried,
"And what are you doing here?
So tiny as you will never do
For the brutal rush and hullaballoo
Of this practical world, I fear."_
_"Voice have I, good sir," said she.--
"'Tis soft as an Angel's sigh,
But to fancy a word of yours were heard
In all the din of this world's absurd!"
Smiling, I made reply._
_"Hands have I, good sir" she quoth.--
"Marry, and that have you!
But amid the strife and the tumult rife
In all the struggle and battle for life,
What can those wee hands do?"_
_"Eyes have I, good sir," she said.--
"Sooth, you have," quoth I,
"And tears shall flow therefrom, I trow,
And they betimes shall dim with woe,
As the hard, hard years go by!"_
_That little bit of a woman cast
Her two eyes full on me,
And they smote me sore to my inmost core,
And they hold me slaved forevermore,--
Yet would I not be free!_
_That little bit of a woman's hands
Reached up into my breast
And rent apart my scoffing heart,--
And they buffet it still with such sweet art
As cannot be expressed._
_That little bit of a woman's voice
Hath grown most wondrous dear;
Above the blare of all elsewhere
(An inspiration that mocks at care)
It riseth full and clear._
_Dear one, I bless the subtle power
That makes me wholly thine;
And I'm proud to say that I bless the day
When a little woman wrought her way
Into this life of mine!_
The Verse in this Second Book.
PAGE
FATHER'S WAY 1
TO MY MOTHER 5
KOeRNER'S BATTLE PRAYER 7
GOSLING STEW 9
CATULLUS TO LESBIA 12
JOHN SMITH 13
ST. MARTIN'S LANE 22
THE SINGING IN GOD'S-ACRE 25
DEAR OLD LONDON 28
CORSICAN LULLABY (Folk-Song) 33
THE CLINK OF THE ICE 35
BELLS OF NOTRE DAME 39
LOVER'S LANE, ST. JO 41
CRUMPETS AND TEA 44
AN IMITATION OF DR. WATTS 47
INTRY-MINTRY 48
MODJESKY AS CAMEEL 51
TELLING THE BEES 60
THE TEA-GOWN 62
DOCTORS 64
BARBARA 69
THE CAFE MOLINEAU 72
HOLLY AND IVY 75
THE BOLTONS, 22 77
DIBDIN'S GHOST 83
THE HAWTHORNE CHILDREN 87
THE BOTTLE AND THE BIRD 91
AN ECLOGUE FROM VIRGIL 96
PITTYPAT AND TIPPYTOE 103
ASHES ON THE SLIDE 106
THE LOST CUPID OF MOSCHUS 110
CHRISTMAS EVE 113
CARLSBAD 115
THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE 120
RED 122
JEWISH LULLABY 124
AT CHEYENNE 126
THE NAUGHTY DOLL 128
THE PNEUMOGASTRIC NERVE 131
TEENY-
| 369.173809 | 1,757 |
2023-11-16 18:21:55.9155010
| 2,584 | 113 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Paul Clark and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
MY EXPERIENCES AS AN EXECUTIONER.
[Illustration: James Berry]
MY
EXPERIENCES
AS AN
EXECUTIONER
BY
JAMES BERRY
_Edited by H. Snowden Ward._
LONDON:
PERCY LUND & CO
MEMORIAL HALL, LUDGATE CIRCUS, E.C.
COPYRIGHT IN UNITED STATES AND BRITISH ISLES.
PRINTED BY
[Publisher's mark]
PERCY LUND AND CO.,
BRADFORD.
Copyright in United States and British Isles.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 7
CHAPTER I.
THE EXECUTIONER AT HOME 11
CHAPTER II.
HOW I BECAME AN EXECUTIONER 16
CHAPTER III.
MY FIRST EXECUTION 23
CHAPTER IV.
MY METHOD OF EXECUTION--CALCULATIONS AND APPARATUS 30
CHAPTER V.
MY METHOD OF EXECUTION--THE PROCEEDINGS 45
CHAPTER VI.
OTHER METHODS OF EXECUTION 50
CHAPTER VII.
TWO TERRIBLE EXPERIENCES 59
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW MURDERERS DIE 66
CHAPTER IX.
FROM THE MURDERER'S POINT OF VIEW 95
CHAPTER X.
ON CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 106
CHAPTER XI.
HANGING: FROM A BUSINESS POINT OF VIEW 117
CHAPTER XII.
THE PRESS AND THE PUBLIC 124
CHAPTER XIII.
INCIDENTS AND ANECDOTES 132
APPENDIX.
THE TROUBLE WITH "ANSWERS" LIMITED 141
INTRODUCTION.
The intention of both the author and the editor of this little book
has been to set forth, as plainly and as simply as possible, certain
facts and opinions with regard to what is undoubtedly a most important
subject--the carrying out of the ultimate sentence of the law. While
facts have not been in any way shirked or misrepresented, much that
is horrible in detail has been suppressed; so that people who may be
tempted to take up the book in search of ghastly descriptive writing,
are warned at the outset that they will be disappointed.
It is believed that a publication of Mr. Berry's experiences will
correct many errors and misconceptions as to the way in which capital
sentences are carried out in England; and that it will lead to a
consideration of the whole subject, from a practical, rather than from
a sentimental, point of view.
The management, and, if possible, the regeneration of the criminal
classes, is one of the most serious tasks that civilisation has to
face; and those who undertake such a task require all the light that
can possibly be thrown upon the subject. The public executioner has
many and special opportunities of studying the criminal classes, and
of knowing their attitude and feelings with regard to that capital
punishment which civilisation regards as its strongest weapon in the
war against crime. When, as in the case of Mr. Berry, several years'
experience in various police forces can be added to his experience as
an executioner, the man who has had these exceptional opportunities
of studying criminals and crime, must necessarily have gathered much
information and formed opinions that are worthy of attention.
Therefore, this book has a higher aim than the mere recording of the
circumstances and incidents of the most painful business in which a man
can engage. The recording is necessary, for without the facts before
them, readers could not form their own opinions; but it is hoped that
the facts will be read with more than mere curiosity, that the readers
will be led to take a personal interest in the weak and erring brethren
who form the criminal classes, the canker-worm of our social system.
* * * * *
An explanation of how this book was written may not be out of place.
The statements are _entirely_ those of the author, though in many cases
the words are those of the editor, whose task consisted of re-arranging
and very greatly condensing the mass of matter placed in his hands
by Mr. Berry. The narrative and descriptive portion of the work is
taken from a series of note-books and a news-cuttings book kept by
Mr. Berry; who includes the most minute particulars in his diaries.
One chapter--"My First Execution"--is word for word as written in the
diary, with the exception that a few whole pages of descriptive detail
are omitted, and indicated by points (thus....) The chapter "On Capital
Punishment," and portions of other chapters, were not written out at
length by Mr. Berry, but were supplied in the form of full notes, and
the principal portions dictated. In every case, however, the opinions
are those of the author, with whom the editor is by no means in entire
personal agreement.
CHAPTER I.
The Executioner at Home.
BY H. SNOWDEN WARD.
James Berry, though regarded by some people as a monster, and by
others as a curiosity, is very much like any other working-man when
one comes to know him. He is neither a paragon of perfection, nor an
embodiment of all vice--though different classes of people have at
times placed him under both these descriptions. His character is a
curious study--a mixture of very strong and very weak traits, such as
is seldom found in one person. And although one of his weak points is
his Yorkshire open-hearted frankness, which he tries to control as
much as possible, the man who has only been with him a few days has
not by any means got to the depths of his character. His wife has said
to me more than once:--"I have lived with him for nineteen years, but
I don't thoroughly know him yet," and one can quite understand it, as
his character is so many-sided and in some respects contradictory.
This partly accounts for the varying and contradictory views of his
personality which have been published in different papers.
His strongest point is his tender-heartedness. Perhaps this may be
doubted, but I state the fact from ample knowledge. Mr. Berry's
occupation was not by any means taken up from a love of the ghastly,
or any pleasure in the work. Even in his business as executioner his
soft-heartedness has shown itself, for though it has never caused him
to flinch on the scaffold, it has led him to study most carefully the
science of his subject, and to take great pains to make death painless.
Of this trait I have had many proofs. For instance, I know that on
some occasions when he has been due to start for a place of execution,
his repugnance to the task has been so great that his wife and her
mother have been obliged to use the greatest possible force of
persuasion to prevent him shirking his duty. Another instance of this
characteristic appeared when I was overhauling his manuscript and
cuttings for the purpose of this book. I came across a copy of a poem
"For one under Sentence of Death," and made some enquiry about it.
I found that the lines were some which Mr. Berry had copied from a
Dorchester newspaper, and that for a long time it had been his habit
to make a copy of them, to send to the chaplain in every case where a
prisoner was sentenced to death, with a request that they should be
read to the prisoner. This was continued until the governor of one of
the gaols resented the sending of such a poem to the chaplain, and
intimated that in all cases the chaplain was best able to judge of
what was necessary for the condemned man, and did not need any outside
interference. After this Mr. Berry sent no more poems, but he kept one
or two copies by him, and I think that it may interest the reader.
LINES FOR ONE UNDER SENTENCE OF DEATH.
My brother,--Sit and think,
While yet some hours on earth are left to thee;
Kneel to thy God, who does not from thee shrink,
And lay thy sins on Christ, who died for thee.
He rests His wounded hand
With loving kindness, on thy sin-stained brow,
And says--"Here at thy side I ready stand,
To make thy scarlet sins as white as snow.
"I did not shed My blood
For sinless angels, good and pure and true;
For hopeless sinners flowed that crimson flood,
My heart's blood ran for you, my son, for you.
"Though thou hast grieved me sore,
My arms of mercy still are open wide,
I still hold open Heaven's shining door,
Come then--take refuge in My wounded side.
"Men shun thee--but not I,
Come close to me--I love my erring sheep.
My blood can cleanse thy sins of blackest dye,
I understand, if thou canst only weep."
Words fail thee--never mind,
Thy Saviour can read e'en a sigh, or tear;
I came, sin-stricken heart, to heal and bind,
And died to save thee--to My heart thou'rt dear.
Come now--the time is short,
Longing to pardon and to bless, I wait;
Look up to Me, My sheep so dearly bought,
And say, "forgive me, e'er it is too late." E. B. C.
The soft-heartedness of Mr. Berry's nature would quite unfit him for
his post if it were not that he possesses a strong resolution, and can
control his feelings when he finds duty warring against inclination.
In personal appearance he is a kindly-looking man, thickset and
muscular, with a florid complexion and sandy hair. He stands 5ft. 8-1/2in.
high, weighs 13 stones, and does not look the sort of man to willingly
injure anyone. The appearance of his right cheek is somewhat marred
by a long, deep scar, extending downwards from the corner of the eye,
which has given rise to one or two sensational stories from the pens of
imaginative newspaper men. The scar was caused by the kick of a horse
which he attempted to ride when he was a boy about ten years old. The
horse was young, unbroken and vicious, and its kick narrowly missed
being fatal. Across his forehead is another great scar, the result
of a terrible blow received when arresting a desperate character in
a Bradford public-house. The man was one of a gang of six, and his
comrades helped him to violently resist arrest, but Berry stuck to his
captive until he was safely locked in the Bradford Town Hall, and the
six men all had to "do time" for the assault.
Mr. Berry was born on February 8th, 1852, at Heckmondwike, in
Yorkshire. His father was a wool-stapler, holding a good position in
the district. Young Berry's education was obtained at the Wrea Green
School, near Lytham, where he gained several prizes for his writing and
drawing. His writing ability was useful to him later in life, when he
was employed by a lithographer, to write "copper-plate" transfers. In
1874 he was married, and has had six children. Of these, two boys and a
girl died while young, and two boys and a girl are living.
The "executioner's office," as Mr. Berry likes to call it on his
official communications, is a house just off City Road, Bradford. It
is one of six owned by Mr. Berry. When he first took the position of
executioner some of his neighbours were so prejudiced against the work,
that they refused to live "next door to a hangman," and as
| 369.234911 | 1,758 |
2023-11-16 18:21:56.0870920
| 394 | 91 |
Produced by Cam Venezuela, Earle Beach, Eric Eldred, and
the Distributed Online Proofing Team
L'ASSOMMOIR
By Emile Zola
CHAPTER I
GERVAISE
Gervaise had waited and watched for Lantier until two in the morning.
Then chilled and shivering, she turned from the window and threw
herself across the bed, where she fell into a feverish doze with her
cheeks wet with tears. For the last week when they came out of the
Veau a Deux Tetes, where they ate, he had sent her off to bed with the
children and had not appeared until late into the night and always
with a story that he had been looking for work.
This very night, while she was watching for his return, she fancied
she saw him enter the ballroom of the Grand-Balcon, whose ten windows
blazing with lights illuminated, as with a sheet of fire, the black
lines of the outer boulevards. She caught a glimpse of Adele, a pretty
brunette who dined at their restaurant and who was walking a few steps
behind him, with her hands swinging as if she had just dropped his
arm, rather than pass before the bright light of the globes over the
door in his company.
When Gervaise awoke about five o'clock, stiff and sore, she burst into
wild sobs, for Lantier had not come in. For the first time he had
slept out. She sat on the edge of the bed, half shrouded in the canopy
of faded chintz that hung from the arrow fastened to the ceiling by a
string. Slowly, with her eyes suffused with tears, she looked around
this miserable _chambre garnie_, whose furniture consisted of a
chestnut bureau of
| 369.406502 | 1,759 |
2023-11-16 18:21:56.6640540
| 1,628 | 48 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
BRITISH
ARTISTS
JOHN PETTIE, R.A., H.R.S.A.
[Illustration: Bonnie Prince Charlie (Cover Page)]
IN THE SAME SERIES
BIRKET FOSTER, R.W.S.
KATE GREENAWAY
GEORGE MORLAND
A. AND C. BLACK . 4 SOHO SQUARE . LONDON, W.
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
AUSTRALASIA OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
205 FLINDERS LANE, MELBOURNE
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
27 RICHMOND STREET WEST, TORONTO
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
309 BOW BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA
[Illustration: Portrait of John Pettie]
JOHN PETTIE
R.A., H.R.S.A.
SIXTEEN EXAMPLES IN COLOUR
OF THE ARTIST'S WORK
WITH
AN INTRODUCTION
BY
MARTIN HARDIE, B.A., A.R.E.
[Illustration]
PUBLISHED BY A. & C. BLACK
4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON
MCMX
LIST OF PLATES
OWNER OF ORIGINAL
1. Portrait of John Pettie _Tate Gallery_
2. The Vigil "
3. The Step _Kenneth M. Clark, Esq._
4. A Drum-head Court-Martial _Mappin Art Gallery, Sheffield_
5. Treason "
6. Rejected Addresses _The Rt. Hon. Baron Faber_
7. Ho! Ho! Old Noll! _W. J. Chrystal, Esq_.
8. A Sword-and-Dagger Fight _Corporation Art Gallery, Glasgow_
9. Two Strings to her Bow "
[A]10. Bonnie Prince Charlie _Charles Stewart, Esq._
11. Disbanded _Fine Art Institution, Dundee_
12. Portrait of Sir Charles
Wyndham as David Garrick _Sir Charles Wyndham_
13. The Clash of Steel _John Jordan, Esq._
14. A Storm in a Teacup _Colonel Harding_
15. Grandmother's Memories _Trustees of the late Alex. Rose, Esq._
16. The Chieftain's Candlesticks _By permission of the late Mrs. Morten_
[A] _On the cover_
JOHN PETTIE, R.A.
Like many great painters, John Pettie was of humble origin. Born in
Edinburgh in 1839, he was the son of a tradesman who, having reached
some prosperity, purchased a business in the village of East Linton and
moved there with his family in 1852. The boy was born with art in his
blood, and Nature never intended him for the dull and respectable
vocation to which his father was anxious that he should succeed. More
than once, when despatched on an errand to storeroom or cellar, he was
discovered making drawings on the lid of a wooden box or the top of a
cask, totally oblivious of his journey and its object. A portrait of the
village carrier and his donkey, done when he was a boy of fifteen,
struck neighbouring critics as being almost "uncanny," and overcame even
his father's objections to art as a possible career.
Greatly daring, his mother carried off her son to Edinburgh, a bundle of
drawings beneath his arm, to visit Mr. James Drummond, one of the
leading members of the Royal Scottish Academy. "Much better make him
stick to business," was his verdict, after listening to the mother's
story. But his tone changed when he had seen the drawings. Not a word
was uttered while he turned them over; but then, handing them back, he
said: "Well, madam, you can put that boy to what you like, but he'll die
an artist!"
With every encouragement Pettie now entered the Trustees' Academy, where
he became a student under Robert Scott Lauder, R.S.A. Among Pettie's
fellow-students were George Paul Chalmers, W. Q. Orchardson, J.
MacWhirter, Hugh Cameron, Peter Graham, Tom Graham, and W. McTaggart.
They were destined to form a School which breathed new life into
Scottish art and inaugurated a fresh epoch. All of them gave free
expression to their own personality, but one and all made beautiful
colour their highest ideal.
In 1858 Pettie exhibited his first picture at the Royal Scottish
Academy; and in 1860 made his first venture at the Royal Academy in
London with "The Armourers," which was hung on the line. It was followed
in 1861 by "What d' ye lack, madam?" a picture of the saucy 'prentice in
Scott's "Fortunes of Nigel." With the exhibition of this picture his
success was assured, and the encouragement he received led him to leave
the North and seek his future in the greater world of London.
In 1862 we find Pettie sharing a studio in Pimlico with Orchardson and
Tom Graham. A year later, taking C. E. Johnson in their company, they
moved to 37, Fitzroy Square, a house afterwards tenanted by Ford Madox
Brown. I have before me a solemn agreement dated September 18, 1863:
"We, W. Q. Orchardson, J. Pettie, and T. Graham, agree to each other
that we shall pay the following proportions of rent for house, No. 37,
Fitzroy Square (W. Q. Orchardson, L66 13s.; John Pettie, L56 13s.; T.
Graham, L41 13s.), or in these proportions whether of increase or
reduction." Here they lived a happy Bohemian existence, with guinea-pigs
running about the studio floor; their cash-box an open drawer where
bank-notes, gold and silver were mixed in cheerful confusion with
bottles of varnish and tubes of colour; their general factotum one Joe
Wall, a retired prize-fighter, who had been model to Landseer and Frith.
To the two years spent in Fitzroy Square, and to the ten years
following, belong several of Pettie's finest works. His keen perception
of dramatic incident, his fine sense of colour, and his brilliance of
craftsmanship, soon drew the attention they deserved. In 1865 his
"Drum-head Court-Martial" was one of the pictures before which visitors
clustered daily when it hung on the Academy walls. It is a dashing
picture, full of spirit in idea and design; and the artist seldom
painted anything better, or more full of character, than the heads of
those commanders sitting in judgment.
In the following year, at
| 369.983464 | 1,760 |
2023-11-16 18:21:56.7166980
| 1,046 | 442 |
Produced by Chris Curnow and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
Edited by J. A. HAMMERTON
Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself,
the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic
draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to “Punch,” from its
beginning in 1841 to the present day.
MR. PUNCH IN WIG AND GOWN
[Illustration]
[Illustration: “UP BEFORE THE BEAK”]
MR. PUNCH
IN WIG
AND GOWN
THE LIGHTER SIDE OF BENCH
AND BAR
_WITH 120 ILLUSTRATIONS_
BY
H. STACY MARKS, SIR JOHN
TENNIEL, GEORGE DU
MAURIER, CHARLES KEENE,
PHIL MAY, E. T. REED,
L. RAVEN-HILL, J. BERNARD
PARTRIDGE, A. S. BOYD,
TOM BROWNE, G. D.
ARMOUR, W. F. THOMAS,
AND OTHERS.
[Illustration]
PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH
THE PROPRIETORS OF “PUNCH”
THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
_Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated_
LIFE IN LONDON
COUNTRY LIFE
IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN
STATING THE CASE
[Illustration]
Mr. Punch has done his share towards bringing about various law
reforms. We find him hammering away continually for many years at the
Law’s delays, its costliness, its inconsistencies, and the evils he
has satirised, the inconveniences he has laughed at have largely been
remedied. He makes fun of the jesting judge and the bullying barrister,
while he is genially amusing at the expense of the timid and blundering
witness, and the youthful vanity or elderly pomposity of members of the
bench and bar. He is rightly bitter now and then when he touches on
the comparatively light sentences inflicted on audacious, but wealthy,
swindlers, and the comparatively heavy penalties exacted from lesser,
poorer, and more ignorant burglars and pickpockets; but in the main
he devotes himself to the lighter side of law and justice and the
professions that are concerned in its administration.
Here and there you come across echoes of famous law suits--of the
Tichborne trial, the Parnell Commission; here and there you have
reminders of Bradlaugh’s fight to get into Parliament without taking
the oath; of the days when London was agitated by the Fenian scare and
valorous householders were sworn in as special constables, and again
when everybody passing into the law courts had to open his bag that
the policeman on duty might be assured that he was not carrying a bomb
inside it.
The reading matter is particularly apt and good; not a little of it
was written by barristers in the intervals of waiting for briefs, and
the writers were thus intimately acquainted with the grievances they
ventilated, and were often suffering the hardships of the briefless
themselves when they sat down to make fun of them.
[Illustration]
MR. PUNCH IN WIG AND GOWN
OUR LEGAL CORRESPONDENCE
NOVICE.--(_a_) Don’t, unless you want penal servitude for life. (_b_)
Any respectable burglar. (_c_) We do not answer questions on chiropody
in this column.
HARD UP.--_Brougham on Conveyances_ will explain whether your contract
to purchase the motor-car is binding or not.
FARMER.--It is either an “escrow” or a scarecrow; impossible to state
definitely without further information.
B. AND S.--There is
| 370.036108 | 1,761 |
2023-11-16 18:21:56.7187210
| 383 | 84 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing, Richard Hulse 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: THE DISOBEDIENT BOY. _Page 95_]
PRECEPTS IN PRACTICE.
[Illustration: OLD JONAS. _Page 140._]
_THOMAS NELSON AND SONS_,
LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK.
PRECEPTS IN PRACTICE;
OR,
_STORIES ILLUSTRATING THE PROVERBS_.
BY
A. L. O. E.,
AUTHOR OF “THE SILVER CASKET”, “THE ROBBERS’ CAVE,” ETC., ETC.
WITH THIRTY-NINE ENGRAVINGS
London:
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW.
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
1887
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Preface.
Dear young friends (perhaps I may rather welcome some amongst you as
_old_ friends), I would once more gather you around me to listen to my
simple stories. I have in each one endeavoured to exemplify some truth
taught by the wise King Solomon, in the Book of Proverbs. Perhaps the
holy words, which I trust that many of you have already learned to love,
may be more forcibly imprinted on your minds, and you may apply them
more to your own conduct, when you see them illustrated by tales
describing such events as may happen to yourselves.
May the Giver of all good gifts make the choice of Solomon also yours;
may you, each and all, be endowed with that
| 370.038131 | 1,762 |
2023-11-16 18:21:56.8535400
| 376 | 65 |
Produced by Barbara Kosker 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: |
| |
| Transliterated Greek words are marked with |
| +'s like so: +Greek+. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------+
ASBESTOS
ITS PRODUCTION AND USE
WITH
_SOME ACCOUNT OF THE ASBESTOS MINES OF CANADA_
BY ROBERT H. JONES
[Illustration]
LONDON:
CROSBY LOCKWOOD AND SON
7, STATIONERS' HALL COURT, LUDGATE HILL
1888
PREFACE.
The substance of the following pages was originally comprised in a
series of Letters from Canada to a friend in London, who was desirous of
obtaining all the authentic information possible on a subject on which
so little appears to be generally known.
The use of Asbestos in the arts and manufactures is now rapidly assuming
such large proportions that, it is believed, it will presently be found
more difficult to say to what purposes it cannot be applied than to what
it can and is.
Under these circumstances, although much of the information here given
is not new, but has been gathered from every available source, it is
hoped that the compilation in its present shape may be found acceptable.
R. H. J.
HOTEL VICTORIA,
NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE
_April 20, 1888._
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY 5-8
ASBESTOS AT THE
| 370.17295 | 1,763 |
2023-11-16 18:21:56.9119140
| 4,132 | 60 |
Produced by Les Bowler
NEW POEMS,
By Francis Thompson.
Dedication to Coventry Patmore.
Lo, my book thinks to look Time's leaguer down,
Under the banner of your spread renown!
Or if these levies of impuissant rhyme
Fall to the overthrow of assaulting Time,
Yet this one page shall fend oblivious shame,
Armed with your crested and prevailing Name.
Note.--This dedication was written while the dear friend and great
Poet to whom it was addressed yet lived. It is left as he saw it--
the last verses of mine that were ever to pass under his eyes.
F. T.
Contents.
SIGHT AND INSIGHT.
The mistress of vision.
Contemplation.
'By reason of Thy law.'
The dread of height.
Orient ode.
New Year's chimes.
From the night of forebeing.
Any saint.
Assumpta Maria.
The after woman.
Grace of the way.
Retrospect.
A NARROW VESSEL.
A girl's sin--in her eyes.
A girl's sin--in his eyes.
Love declared.
The way of a maid.
Beginning of the end.
Penelope.
The end of it.
Epilogue.
MISCELLANEOUS ODES.
Ode to the setting sun.
A captain of song.
Against Urania.
An anthem of earth.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
'Ex ore infantium.'
A question.
Field-flower.
The cloud's swan-song.
To the sinking sun.
Grief's harmonics.
Memorat memoria.
July fugitive.
To a snow-flake.
Nocturn.
A May burden.
A dead astronomer.
'Chose vue.'
'Whereto art thou come.'
Heaven and hell.
To a child.
Hermes.
House of bondage.
The heart.
A sunset.
Heard on the mountain.
ULTIMA.
Love's almsman plaineth his fare.
A holocaust.
Beneath a photograph.
After her going.
My lady the tyranness.
Unto this last.
Ultimum.
Envoy.
SIGHT AND INSIGHT.
'Wisdom is easily seen by them that love her, and is found
by them that seek her.
To think therefore upon her is perfect understanding.'
WISDOM, vi.
THE MISTRESS OF VISION.
I
Secret was the garden;
Set i' the pathless awe
Where no star its breath can draw.
Life, that is its warden,
Sits behind the fosse of death. Mine eyes saw not,
and I saw.
II
It was a mazeful wonder;
Thrice three times it was enwalled
With an emerald--
Seal-ed so asunder.
All its birds in middle air hung a-dream, their
music thralled.
III
The Lady of fair weeping,
At the garden's core,
Sang a song of sweet and sore
And the after-sleeping;
In the land of Luthany, and the tracts of Elenore.
IV
With sweet-panged singing,
Sang she through a dream-night's day;
That the bowers might stay,
Birds bate their winging,
Nor the wall of emerald float in wreath-ed haze away.
V
The lily kept its gleaming,
In her tears (divine conservers!)
Wash-ed with sad art;
And the flowers of dreaming
Pal-ed not their fervours,
For her blood flowed through their nervures;
And the roses were most red, for she dipt them in
her heart.
VI
There was never moon,
Save the white sufficing woman:
Light most heavenly-human--
Like the unseen form of sound,
Sensed invisibly in tune,--
With a sun-deriv-ed stole
Did inaureole
All her lovely body round;
Lovelily her lucid body with that light was inter-
strewn.
VII
The sun which lit that garden wholly,
Low and vibrant visible,
Tempered glory woke;
And it seem-ed solely
Like a silver thurible
Solemnly swung, slowly,
Fuming clouds of golden fire, for a cloud of incense-
smoke.
VIII
But woe's me, and woe's me,
For the secrets of her eyes!
In my visions fearfully
They are ever shown to be
As fring-ed pools, whereof each lies
Pallid-dark beneath the skies
Of a night that is
But one blear necropolis.
And her eyes a little tremble, in the wind of her
own sighs.
IX
Many changes rise on
Their phantasmal mysteries.
They grow to an horizon
Where earth and heaven meet;
And like a wing that dies on
The vague twilight-verges,
Many a sinking dream doth fleet
Lessening down their secrecies.
And, as dusk with day converges,
Their orbs are troublously
Over-gloomed and over-glowed with hope and fear
of things to be.
X
There is a peak on Himalay,
And on the peak undeluged snow,
And on the snow not eagles stray;
There if your strong feet could go,--
Looking over tow'rd Cathay
From the never-deluged snow--
Farthest ken might not survey
Where the peoples underground dwell whom
antique fables know.
XI
East, ah, east of Himalay,
Dwell the nations underground;
Hiding from the shock of Day,
For the sun's uprising-sound:
Dare not issue from the ground
At the tumults of the Day,
So fearfully the sun doth sound
Clanging up beyond Cathay;
For the great earthquaking sunrise rolling up
beyond Cathay.
XII
Lend me, O lend me
The terrors of that sound,
That its music may attend me.
Wrap my chant in thunders round;
While I tell the ancient secrets in that Lady's
singing found.
XIII
On Ararat there grew a vine,
When Asia from her bathing rose;
Our first sailor made a twine
Thereof for his prefiguring brows.
Canst divine
Where, upon our dusty earth, of that vine a cluster
grows?
XIV
On Golgotha there grew a thorn
Round the long-prefigured Brows.
Mourn, O mourn!
For the vine have we the spine? Is this all the
Heaven allows?
XV
On Calvary was shook a spear;
Press the point into thy heart--
Joy and fear!
All the spines upon the thorn into curling tendrils
start.
XVI
O, dismay!
I, a wingless mortal, sporting
With the tresses of the sun?
I, that dare my hand to lay
On the thunder in its snorting?
Ere begun,
Falls my singed song down the sky, even the old
Icarian way.
XVII
From the fall precipitant
These dim snatches of her chant
Only have remain-ed mine;--
That from spear and thorn alone
May be grown
For the front of saint or singer any divinizing twine.
XVIII
Her song said that no springing
Paradise but evermore
Hangeth on a singing
That has chords of weeping,
And that sings the after-sleeping
To souls which wake too sore.
'But woe the singer, woe!' she said; 'beyond the
dead his singing-lore,
All its art of sweet and sore,
He learns, in Elenore!'
XIX
Where is the land of Luthany,
Where is the tract of Elenore?
I am bound therefor.
XX
'Pierce thy heart to find the key;
With thee take
Only what none else would keep;
Learn to dream when thou dost wake,
Learn to wake when thou dost sleep.
Learn to water joy with tears,
Learn from fears to vanquish fears;
To hope, for thou dar'st not despair,
Exult, for that thou dar'st not grieve;
Plough thou the rock until it bear;
Know, for thou else couldst not believe;
Lose, that the lost thou may'st receive;
Die, for none other way canst live.
When earth and heaven lay down their veil,
And that apocalypse turns thee pale;
When thy seeing blindeth thee
To what thy fellow-mortals see;
When their sight to thee is sightless;
Their living, death; their light, most light-
less;
Search no more--
Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore.'
XXI
Where is the land of Luthany,
And where the region Elenore?
I do faint therefor.
'When to the new eyes of thee
All things by immortal power,
Near or far,
Hiddenly
To each other link-ed are,
That thou canst not stir a flower
Without troubling of a star;
When thy song is shield and mirror
To the fair snake-curl-ed Pain,
Where thou dar'st affront her terror
That on her thou may'st attain
Persean conquest; seek no more,
O seek no more!
Pass the gates of Luthany, tread the region Elenore.'
XXII
So sang she, so wept she,
Through a dream-night's day;
And with her magic singing kept she--
Mystical in music--
That garden of enchanting
In visionary May;
Swayless for my spirit's haunting,
Thrice-threefold walled with emerald from our mor-
tal mornings grey.
XXIII
And as a necromancer
Raises from the rose-ash
The ghost of the rose;
My heart so made answer
To her voice's silver plash,--
Stirred in reddening flash,
And from out its mortal ruins the purpureal phantom
blows.
XXIV
Her tears made dulcet fretting,
Her voice had no word,
More than thunder or the bird.
Yet, unforgetting,
The ravished soul her meanings knew. Mine ears
heard not, and I heard.
XXV
When she shall unwind
All those wiles she wound about me,
Tears shall break from out me,
That I cannot find
Music in the holy poets to my wistful want, I doubt
me!
CONTEMPLATION.
This morning saw I, fled the shower,
The earth reclining in a lull of power:
The heavens, pursuing not their path,
Lay stretched out naked after bath,
Or so it seemed; field, water, tree, were still,
Nor was there any purpose on the calm-browed hill.
The hill, which sometimes visibly is
Wrought with unresting energies,
Looked idly; from the musing wood,
And every rock, a life renewed
Exhaled like an unconscious thought
When poets, dreaming unperplexed,
Dream that they dream of nought.
Nature one hour appears a thing unsexed,
Or to such serene balance brought
That her twin natures cease their sweet alarms,
And sleep in one another's arms.
The sun with resting pulses seems to brood,
And slacken its command upon my unurged blood.
The river has not any care
Its passionless water to the sea to bear;
The leaves have brown content;
The wall to me has freshness like a scent,
And takes half animate the air,
Making one life with its green moss and stain;
And life with all things seems too perfect blent
For anything of life to be aware.
The very shades on hill, and tree, and plain,
Where they have fallen doze, and where they doze remain.
No hill can idler be than I;
No stone its inter-particled vibration
Investeth with a stiller lie;
No heaven with a more urgent rest betrays
The eyes that on it gaze.
We are too near akin that thou shouldst cheat
Me, Nature, with thy fair deceit.
In poets floating like a water-flower
Upon the bosom of the glassy hour,
In skies that no man sees to move,
Lurk untumultuous vortices of power,
For joy too native, and for agitation
Too instant, too entire for sense thereof,
Motion like gnats when autumn suns are low,
Perpetual as the prisoned feet of love
On the heart's floors with pain-ed pace that go.
From stones and poets you may know,
Nothing so active is, as that which least seems so.
For he, that conduit running wine of song,
Then to himself does most belong,
When he his mortal house unbars
To the importunate and thronging feet
That round our corporal walls unheeded beat;
Till, all containing, he exalt
His stature to the stars, or stars
Narrow their heaven to his fleshly vault:
When, like a city under ocean,
To human things he grows a desolation,
And is made a habitation
For the fluctuous universe
To lave with unimpeded motion.
He scarcely frets the atmosphere
With breathing, and his body shares
The immobility of rocks;
His heart's a drop-well of tranquillity;
His mind more still is than the limbs of fear,
And yet its unperturbed velocity
The spirit of the simoom mocks.
He round the solemn centre of his soul
Wheels like a dervish, while his being is
Streamed with the set of the world's harmonies,
In the long draft of whatsoever sphere
He lists the sweet and clear
Clangour of his high orbit on to roll,
So gracious is his heavenly grace;
And the bold stars does hear,
Every one in his airy soar,
For evermore
Shout to each other from the peaks of space,
As thwart ravines of azure shouts the mountaineer.
'BY REASON OF THY LAW'.
Here I make oath--
Although the heart that knows its bitterness
Hear loath,
And credit less--
That he who kens to meet Pain's kisses fierce
Which hiss against his tears,
Dread, loss, nor love frustrate,
Nor all iniquity of the froward years
Shall his inur-ed wing make idly bate,
Nor of the appointed quarry his staunch sight
To lose observance quite;
Seal from half-sad and all-elate
Sagacious eyes
Ultimate Paradise;
Nor shake his certitude of haughty fate.
Pacing the burning shares of many dooms,
I with stern tread do the clear-witting stars
To judgment cite,
If I have borne aright
The proving of their pure-willed ordeal.
From food of all delight
The heavenly Falconer my heart debars,
And tames with fearful glooms
The haggard to His call;
Yet sometimes comes a hand, sometimes a voice withal,
And she sits meek now, and expects the light.
In this Avernian sky,
This sultry and incumbent canopy
Of dull and doomed regret;
Where on the unseen verges yet, O yet,
At intervals,
Trembles, and falls,
Faint lightning of remembered transient sweet--
Ah, far too sweet
But to be sweet a little, a little sweet, and fleet;
Leaving this pallid trace,
This loitering and most fitful light a space,
Still some sad space,
For Grief to see her own poor face:-
Here where I keep my stand
With all o'er-anguished feet,
And no live comfort near on any hand;
Lo, I proclaim the unavoided term,
When this morass of tears, then drained and firm,
Shall be a land--
Unshaken I affirm--
Where seven-quired psalterings meet;
And all the gods move with calm hand in hand,
And eyes that know not trouble and the worm.
THE DREAD OF HEIGHT.
If ye were blind, ye should have no sin: but now ye say: We
see: your sin remaineth. JOHN ix. 41.
Not the Circean wine
Most perilous is for pain:
Grapes of the heavens' star-loaden vine,
Whereto the lofty-placed
Thoughts of fair souls attain,
Tempt with a more retributive delight,
And do disrelish all life's sober taste.
'Tis to have drunk too well
The drink that is divine,
Maketh the kind earth waste,
And breath intolerable.
Ah me!
How shall my mouth content it with mortality?
Lo, secret music, sweetest music,
From distances of distance drifting its lone flight,
Down the arcane where Night would perish in night,
Like a god's loosened locks slips undulously:
Music that is too grievous of the height
For safe and low delight,
Too infinite,
For bounded hearts which yet would girth the sea!
So let it be,
Though sweet be great, and though my heart be small:
So let it be,
O music, music, though you wake in me
No joy, no joy at all;
Although you only wake
Uttermost sadness, measure of delight,
Which else I could not credit to the height,
Did I not know,
That ill is statured to its opposite;
Did I not know,
And even of sadness so,
Of utter sadness make,
Of extreme sad a rod to mete
The incredible excess of unsensed sweet,
And mystic wall of strange felicity.
So let it be,
Though sweet be great, and though my heart be small,
And bitter meat
The food of gods for men to eat;
Yea, John ate daintier, and did tread
Less ways of heat,
Than whom
| 370.231324 | 1,764 |
2023-11-16 18:21:56.9470230
| 379 | 87 |
Produced by KD Weeks, Chris Curnow 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
Certain typographical features, such as italic font, cannot be
reproduced in this version of the text. Any italicized font is
delimited with the underscore character as _italic_. Any "small cap"
text is shifted to all uppercase.
There are two footnotes, which have been repositioned to follow
the paragraph in which they are referenced.
Illustrations, of course, cannot be provided here, but their
approximate positions in the text are indicated as:
[Illustration: caption]
Please consult the more detailed notes at the end of this text for
the resolution of any other issues that were encountered.
"BROKE"
_THE MAN WITHOUT THE DIME_
[Illustration: _As Himself_]
[Illustration: "_Broke_" _THE AUTHOR_]
"BROKE"
_THE MAN WITHOUT THE DIME_
BY
EDWIN A. BROWN
ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
[Illustration]
CHICAGO
BROWNE & HOWELL COMPANY
1913
COPYRIGHT, 1913
BY BROWNE & HOWELL COMPANY
_Copyright in England_
_All rights reserved_
PUBLISHED, NOVEMBER, 1913
THE. PLIMPTON. PRESS
NORWOOD. MASS. U.S.A
TO
THAT VAST ARMY, WHO, WITHOUT
ARMS OF BURNISHED STEEL, FIGHT
WITH BARE HANDS FOR EXISTENCE
| 370.266433 | 1,765 |
2023-11-16 18:21:57.0828480
| 1,046 | 395 |
Produced by deaurider, Karin Spence 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: CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL
FROM A DRAWING BY A. BRUNET-DEBAINES]
GOTHIC
ARCHITECTURE
BY
ÉDOUARD CORROYER
ARCHITECT TO THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT AND INSPECTOR
OF DIOCESAN EDIFICES
EDITED BY
WALTER ARMSTRONG
DIRECTOR OF THE NATIONAL GALLERY OF IRELAND
_With Two Hundred and Thirty-Six Illustrations_
NEW YORK
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1893
EDITOR'S PREFACE
The following pages, which have been translated under my supervision
by Miss Florence Simmonds, give such an account of the birth and
evolution of Gothic Architecture as may be considered sufficient for
a handbook. Mons. Corroyer writes, indeed, from a thoroughly French
standpoint. He is apt to believe that everything admirable in Gothic
architecture had a Gallic origin. Vexed questions of priority, such as
that attaching to the choir of Lincoln, he dismisses with a phrase,
while the larger question of French influence generally in these
islands of ours, he solves by the simple process of referring every
creation which takes his fancy either to a French master or a French
example, here coming, be it said, into occasional collision with his
own stock authority, the late Mons. Viollet-le-duc. The Chauvinistic
tone thus given to his pages may be regretted, but, when all is
said, it does not greatly affect their value as a picture of Gothic
development. Mons. Corroyer confines himself in the main to broad
principles. He travels along the line of evolution, pointing out how
material conditions and discoveries, and their consequent social
changes, brought about one development after another in the forms
and methods of the architect. In a treatise so conceived, the fact
that the field of observation is practically restricted to France,
the few excursions beyond her frontier being made rather with a view
to displaying the extent of her influence than with any desire for
catholicity of grasp, is of no great moment. The English reader for
whom this translation is intended, will get as clear a notion of how
Gothic, as he knows it, came into being, as he would from a more
universal survey, while he has the advantage of some echo, at least,
of the vivacity, which inspires a Frenchman when his theme is "one of
the Glories of France."
W. A.
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
PART I
RELIGIOUS ARCHITECTURE
CHAP.
1. THE INFLUENCE OF THE CUPOLA UPON SO-CALLED GOTHIC
ARCHITECTURE 11
2. THE ORIGIN OF THE INTERSECTING ARCH 16
3. THE FIRST VAULTS ON INTERSECTING ARCHES 24
4. BUILDINGS VAULTED ON INTERSECTING ARCHES 32
5. THE ORIGIN OF THE FLYING BUTTRESS 41
6. CHURCHES AND CATHEDRALS OF THE TWELFTH AND FOURTEENTH
CENTURIES 51
7. CATHEDRALS OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY 67
8. CATHEDRALS AND CHURCHES FROM THE TWELFTH TO THE FOURTEENTH
CENTURY 85
9. CHURCHES OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES IN
FRANCE AND IN THE EAST 105
10. TOWERS AND BELFRIES--CHOIRS--CHAPELS 128
11. SCULPTURE 153
12. PAINTING 179
PART II
MONASTIC ARCHITECTURE
CHAP. PAGE
1. ORIGIN 205
2. ABBEYS OF CLUNY, CITEAUX, AND CLAIRVAUX 215
3. ABBEYS AND _CHARTREUSES_ OR CARTHUSIAN MONASTERIES 227
4. FORTIFIED ABBEYS 247
PART III
MILITARY ARCHITECTURE
1. RAMPARTS OF TOWNS 269
| 370.402258 | 1,766 |
2023-11-16 18:21:57.2575690
| 1,173 | 420 |
Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOLUME 93.
AUGUST 6, 1887.
* * * * *
ALL IN PLAY.
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
Now that your own particular theatrical adviser and follower, Mr. NIBBS,
has left London for a trip abroad, I venture to address you on matters
dramatic. I am the more desirous of so doing because, although the
Season is nearly over, two very important additions have been made to
the London playhouse programme--two additions that have hitherto escaped
your eagle glance. I refer, Sir, to _The Doctor_ at the Globe, and _The
Colonel_ at the Comedy--both from the pen of a gentleman who (while I am
writing this in London) is partaking of the waters at Royat. Mr. BURNAND
is to be congratulated upon the success that has attended both
productions. I had heard rumours that _The Doctor_ had found some
difficulty in establishing himself (or rather herself, because I am
talking of a lady) satisfactorily in Newcastle Street, Strand. It was
said that she required practice, but when I attended her consulting-room
the other evening, I found the theatre full of patients, who were
undergoing a treatment that may be described (without any particular
reference to marriages or "the United States") as "a merry cure." I was
accompanied by a young gentleman fresh from school, and at first felt
some alarm on his account, as his appreciation of the witty dialogue
with which the piece abounds was so intense that he threatened more than
once to die of laughing.
[Illustration: "How happy could he be with either."]
I have never seen a play "go" better--rarely so well. The heroine--the
"_Doctoresse_"--was played with much effect and discretion by Miss
ENSON, a lady for whom I prophesy a bright future. Mr. PENLEY was
excellent in a part that fitted him to perfection. Both Miss VICTOR, as
a "strong woman," and Mr. HILL, as--well, himself,--kept the pit in
roars. The piece is more than a farce. The first two Acts are certainly
farcical, but there is a touch of pathos in the last scene which reminds
one that there is a close relationship between smiles and tears. And
here let me note that the company in the private boxes, even when most
heartily laughing, were still in tiers. As a rule the Doctor is not a
popular person, but at the Globe she is sure to be always welcome. Any
one suffering from that very distressing and prevalent malady, "the
Doleful Dumps," cannot do better than go to Newcastle Street for a
speedy cure.
The _Colonel_ at the Comedy is equally at home, and, on the occasion of
his revival, was received with enthusiasm. Mr. BRUCE has succeeded Mr.
COGHLAN in the title _role_, and plays just as well as his predecessor.
Mr. HERBERT is the original _Forester_, and the rest of the _dramatis
personae_ are worthy of the applause bestowed upon them. To judge from
the laughter that followed every attack upon the aesthetic fad, the
"Greenery Yallery Gallery" is as much to the front as ever--a fact, by
the way, that was amply demonstrated at the _Soiree_ of the Royal
Academy, where "passionate Brompton" was numerously represented.
[Illustration: The Colonel.]
_The Bells of Hazlemere_ seem to be ringing in large audiences at the
Adelphi, although the piece is not violently novel in its plot or
characters. Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE ceases to die "every evening" at the end
of this week at the Opera Comique until November. I peeped in, a few
days since, just before the last scene of _As in a Looking-Glass_, and
found the talented lady on the point of committing her nightly suicide.
Somehow I missed the commencement of the self-murder, and thus could not
satisfactorily account for her dying until I noticed that a double-bass
was moaning piteously. Possibly this double-bass made Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE
wish to die--it certainly created the same desire on my part. Believe
me, yours sincerely,
ONE WHO HAS GONE TO PIECES.
* * * * *
OUR EXCHANGE AND MART.
HOLIDAY INQUIRIES.
ELIGIBLE CONTINENTAL TRAVELLING COMPANION.--A D.C.L., B.M., and R.S.V.P.
of an Irish University, is desirous of meeting with one or two Young
English Dukes who contemplating, as a preliminary to their taking their
seats in the House of Lords, passing a season at Monaco, would consider
the advertiser's society and personal charge, together with his
acquaintance with a system of his own calculated to realise a
substantial financial profit from any lengthened stay in the locality,
an equivalent for the payment of his hotel, travelling, and other
incidental expenses. Highest references given
| 370.576979 | 1,767 |
2023-11-16 18:21:57.3308110
| 1,351 | 186 |
E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, Paul Marshall, Mary Akers, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page
images generously made available by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
(https://archive.org/details/toronto)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 46038-h.htm or 46038-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/46038/46038-h/46038-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/46038/46038-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/shintowayofgods00astouoft
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
Vowels with the diacritical mark, macron, above them
have been displayed as [=a], [=e], [=i], [=o], and [=u].
Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the original
have not been changed.
SHINTO
(The Way Of The Gods)
by
W. G. ASTON, C.M.G, D.Lit.
Author of
'A Grammar of the Japanese Spoken Language,' 'A Grammar of the
Japanese Written Language,' 'The Nihongi' (Translation),
'A History of Japanese Literature,' &c.
Longmans, Green, and Co.
39 Paternoster Row, London
New York and Bombay
1905
All rights reserved
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE.
I. MATERIALS FOR THE STUDY OF SHINTO 1
II. GENERAL FEATURES--PERSONIFICATION 5
III. GENERAL FEATURES--DEIFICATION OF MEN 36
IV. GENERAL FEATURES--FUNCTIONS OF GODS, &C. 65
V. MYTH 75
VI. THE MYTHICAL NARRATIVE 84
VII. THE PANTHEON--NATURE-DEITIES 121
VIII. THE PANTHEON--MAN-DEITIES 177
IX. THE PRIESTHOOD 200
X. WORSHIP 208
XI. MORALS, LAW, AND PURITY 241
XII. CEREMONIAL 268
XIII. MAGIC, DIVINATION, INSPIRATION 327
XIV. DECAY OF SHINTO. MODERN SECTS 359
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
_Ohonamochi and his Double_ 28-29
_The Sun-Goddess issuing from the Rock-Cave of Heaven_ 98-99
_Sun Worship at the Twin-Rocks of Ise_ 130-31
_Hohodemi at the Court of Toyotama-hiko_ 149
_Kedzurikake_. The one on the right is the ordinary form,
the other a special kind called _ihaigi_ 192
_Oho-nusa_.
(From Dr. Florenz's paper in the _T.A.S.J._) 214
_Gohei_ 215
_Ema_ (Horse-picture) 222
_Mikoshi_ 224-25
_Himorogi_. (From the _T.A.S.J._) 226
_Shrines of Ise_ 229-30
_Toriwi_ 233
_Chi no wa_ 266-67
_Misogi, or Purification Ceremony_ 298-99
_Tsuina, or Expulsion of Devils_ 310-11
_Wayside Shrines_ 366
ABBREVIATIONS.
Ch. K.--Mr. B. H. Chamberlain's translation of the _Kojiki_.
_Nihongi_.--Translation of the _Nihongi_ by W. G. Aston.
_T.A.S.J._--Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan.
ERRATA.
For "Welhausen," note to p. 113, read _Wellhausen_.
For "of," p. 12, l. 18, read _on_.
P. 335, l. 24, read _to do her behests_.
ADDENDA.
Add, bottom of p. 60, "St. Augustine says, in his 'Civitas Dei,' that
funeral observances are rather solace to the living than help to the
dead."
P. 41, line 25, after "deities" insert "a phrase which closely
resembles the 'Zembla Bogh' used of the Czar by Russians."
P. 31, add to first note, "The Romans had an evil counterpart of
Jupiter, viz., Vediovis or Vejovis."
PREFACE.
As compared with the great religions of the world, Shinto, the old
_Kami_ cult of Japan, is decidedly rudimentary in its character. Its
polytheism, the want of a Supreme Deity, the comparative absence of
images and of a moral code, its feeble personifications and hesitating
grasp of the conception of spirit, the practical non-recognition of a
future state, and the general absence of a deep, earnest faith--all
stamp it as perhaps the least developed of religions which have an
adequate literary record. Still, it is not a primitive cult. It had an
organized priesthood and an elaborate ritual. The general civilization
of the Japanese when Shinto assumed the form in which we know it had
left the primitive stage far behind. They were already an agricultural
nation, a circumstance by which Shinto has been deeply influenced. They
had a settled government, and possessed the arts of brewing, making
pottery, building ships and bridges, and working in metals. It is not
among such surroundings that we can expect to find a primitive form of
religion.
The present treatise
| 370.650221 | 1,768 |
2023-11-16 18:21:57.4983600
| 243 | 14 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
ON THE IRON AT BIG CLOUD
By Frank L. Packard
McClelland & Goodchild Limited
Prospect Press, Printers New York, U.S.A.
1911
[Illustration: 0001]
[Illustration: 0006]
[Illustration: 0007]
TO
MY FATHER
_LUCIUS HENRY PACKARD_
ON THE IRON AT BIG CLOUD
I--RAFFERTY’S RULE
The General Manager of the Transcontinental System glared at the young
man who stood facing him across the office desk. “Why, you wouldn’t last
three months!” he snapped.
“I’d like to try, uncle.”
“Humph!”
“I’m qualified for the position,” young Holman went on. “I’ve done
my stint with the construction gangs and I’ve spent four years in the
Eastern shops. You promised me that if I’d stick I’d have my chance.”
“Well, if I did, I didn’t promise to put you in the way of making a
fool
| 370.81777 | 1,769 |
2023-11-16 18:21:57.7216540
| 410 | 100 |
Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed
Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from
page images generously made available by the Internet
Archive (https://archive.org)
BERTRAND
OF BRITTANY
[Illustration]
BY
WARWICK DEEPING
AUTHOR OF
“A WOMAN’S WAR” “THE SLANDERERS”
“BESS OF THE WOODS” ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
MCMVIII
Copyright, 1908, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
———
_All rights reserved._
Published April, 1908.
Contents
Book I Youth and the Silver Swan
Book II “How a Man May Find His Soul Again”
Book III “The Oak of Mivoie”
Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.
TO
MY DEAR FRIEND
JULIA ORD
Bertrand of Brittany
BOOK I
YOUTH AND THE SILVER SWAN
I
IT had always been said in the Breton lands that Sieur Robert du
Guesclin was a brave man, save in the presence of that noble lady,
Jeanne de Malemains, his wife.
Now Dame Jeanne was a handsome, black-browed woman with a resolute mouth
and a full, white chin. The Norman apple-trees had lost their bloom, so
sang the romancers, when Gleaquim by the sea had stolen her as the
sunlight from Duke Rollo’s lands. The Lady Jeanne had brought no great
dowry to her husband, save only her smooth and confident beauty, and the
perilous blessings of a splendid pride
| 371.041064 | 1,770 |
2023-11-16 18:21:58.7329520
| 387 | 52 |
Transcribed from the 1849-1850 Darton and Co. edition by David Price,
[email protected]
{The Young Lord's accident: p0.jpg}
THE YOUNG LORD,
AND
Other Tales.
BY MRS. CROSLAND,
(LATE CAMILLA TOULMIN.)
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
VICTORINE DUROCHER.
BY MRS. SHERWOOD.
LONDON:
DARTON AND CO., HOLBORN HILL.
1849-50.
LONDON:
GEORGE WOODFALL AND SON,
ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET.
{Decorative title page: p1.jpg}
THE YOUNG LORD;
AND
THE TRIAL OF ADVERSITY.
BY MRS. NEWTON CROSLAND,
(LATE CAMILLA TOULMIN.)
THE YOUNG LORD.
"Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust do
corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal.
"But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor
rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal.
"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."--ST.
MATT. vi. 19, 20, 21.
"How can we reward the little boy who has so honestly brought me the
bracelet I lost at church yesterday?" said Mrs. Sidney to her only son
Charles, who was now passing the Midsummer vacation with his widowed
mother, at a pretty cottage in Devonshire, which had been the home of his
early years.
"I do not think people should be rewarded for common honesty," said
Charles; "and the clasp contained such an excellent likeness of papa,
whom every one in the village knew
| 372.052362 | 1,771 |
2023-11-16 18:21:58.9593680
| 1,034 | 429 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
_Curiosities of History:_
BOSTON
SEPTEMBER SEVENTEENTH,
1630-1880.
BY WILLIAM W. WHEILDON.
_SECOND EDITION._
"Ringing clearly with a will
What she was is Boston still."
--WHITTIER.
BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.
1880.
COPYRIGHT, 1880,
BY WILLIAM W. WHEILDON.
_Author's Address:_
BOX 229, CONCORD, MASS.
_Franklin Press:
Rand, Avery, & Company,
117 Franklin Street,
Boston._
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
_TO MY WIFE_,
JULIET REBECCA WHEILDON,
IN COMMEMORATION OF THE
Fifty-first Year of our Married Life,
_MAY 28, 1880_.
WILLIAM W. WHEILDON.
INTRODUCTION.
It seems proper to say in offering this little volume to the public, that
no attempt has been made to exhaust the subjects of which the papers
respectively treat; but rather to enlarge upon matters of historical
interest to Boston, which have been referred to only in a general way by
historians and previous writers.--This idea rather than any determination
to select merely curious topics, has in a large measure influenced the
writer; and the endeavor has been to treat them freely and fairly, and
present what may be new, or comparatively new, concerning them, from such
sources as are now accessible and have been open to the writer. It is not,
however, intended to say that an impulse towards some curious matters of
history has not been indulged, and, indeed, considering the subjects and
materials which presented themselves, could scarcely have been avoided,
which was by no means desirable. Although it has been impertinently said,
that "the most curious thing to be found is a woman not curious," we
submit that curiosity is a quality not to be disparaged by wit or sarcasm,
but is rather the germ and quality of progress in art and science and
history.
It has been impossible to correct or qualify, or perhaps we might say
avoid, all the errors, mistakes, or contradictions, which have been
encountered in preparing these pages; and very possibly we may have
inadvertently added to the number. At all events, with our best endeavors
against being drawn into or multiplying errors, we lay no claim to
invulnerability in the matter of accuracy, or immaculacy in the way of
opinions; and we very sincerely add, if errors or mistakes have been made
and are found, we shall be glad to be apprised of them. There are errors
in our history which it is scarcely worth the while to attempt to correct,
although they are not to be countenanced and should not be repeated.
A period of two hundred and fifty years since the settlement of the town
includes and covers a history of no ordinary character, involving progress
and development, not merely of customs, manners and opinions, but of
principles, passions and government. The city is a creation, as it were,
by the art and industry of man; and, with the reverence of Cotton Mather
himself, we add, "With the help of God!" and we venture the comparison
that no change or growth, improvement or embellishment, is to be found in
the settlement or the city, that may not be paralleled in the growth,
advancement and elevation of its people: indeed, we go even farther than
this, the material progress to be seen around us, in all its multifarious
forms and combinations, item by item, small or great, is indicative only
of the advancement of the people, and marks the progress of moral, mental
and intellectual power--of art, science and knowledge.
We take this opportunity to acknowledge our indebtedness to several
friends for the loan and use of many rare and valuable works in the
preparation of this history, and in particular to Messrs. John A. Lewis
and John L. DeWolf, of Boston, and Mr. J. Ward Dean, of the N. E. His.
Gen. Society.
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
I. Topography of Boston. 13
The Peninsula.
Two Islands.
Anne Pollard.
Curious Descriptions.
The Mill Creek.
Great South Cove.
The North Cove.
Boston Common.
II. The Public Ferries. 27
| 372.278778 | 1,772 |
2023-11-16 18:21:59.8110950
| 1,162 | 411 |
Produced by Paul Haxo from page images generously made
available by the University of Toronto and the Internet
Archive.
A DUEL IN THE DARK.
_An original Farce,_
IN ONE ACT.
BY J. STIRLING COYNE,
AUTHOR OF
"_My Wife's Daughter_," "_Binks the Bagman_," "_Separate
Maintenance_," "_How to settle Accounts with your Laundress_," "_Did
you ever send your Wife to Camberwell_,"
_&c. &c. &c._
THOMAS HAILES LACY,
WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,
LONDON.
_First Performed at the Theatre Royal Haymarket,
On Saturday, January_ 31_st,_ 1852.
CHARACTERS.
MR. GREGORY GREENFINCH Mr. BUCKSTONE.
MRS. GREENFINCH }
COUNTESS DE RAMBUTEAU } Mrs. FITZWILLIAM.
CHARLEY BATES }
BETSY Mrs. CAULFIELD.
WAITER Mr. EDWARDS.
COSTUMES.
Mr. GREENFINCH.--Green coat, light blue trowsers, and French
travelling cap.
Mrs. GREENFINCH.--Fawn polka jacket, waistcoat and skirt.
COUNTESS DE RAMBUTEAU.--Loose travelling pelisse, bonnet and green
veil.
CHARLEY BATES.--Blue frock coat and white trowsers.
BETSY.--Travelling dress and servant's dress.
WAITER.--Gendarme suit.
SCENE _lies at a Hotel at Dieppe._
Time in Representation, 50 minutes.
A DUEL IN THE DARK!
SCENE.--_A handsomely furnished Apartment on the ground floor of a
Hotel at Dieppe. A French window at back opening on a garden. Door,
2 E. L. Door, 3 E. L. A large stove, L. between the two doors. Door,
2 E. R. Easy chair near door, R. Tables, R. and L. C. at back; bottle
of brandy with glasses on table, L. Chairs, &c. Two lighted candles
on._
_Enter GREENFINCH, carrying bandbox, large travelling cloak, carpet
bag and umbrella, L. 3 E._
GREEN. Well now this is something like an adventure. (_putting down
the umbrella and bandbox, R._) There's a romantic mystery attached to
me that I can't unravel, in fact I feel myself like a tangled
penn'orth of thread; the more I try to clear myself the more
complicated I become. Let me calmly consider my singular position.
(_throws the cloak on the easy chair, R. and places the carpet bag
beside it_) In the first place here I have arrived at the Hotel d'
Angleterre in Dieppe accompanied by the Countess de Rambuteau--a real
Countess! Poor Mrs. Greenfinch little dreams what a rake I am--but for
a long time I've been dying for an aristocratic flirtation--I have
looked at lovely women in the private boxes at the theatres--and have
run after carriages in the park--but all in vain, and now, startling
as the fact may seem, I have been for the last thirty hours the
travelling companion of a French Countess, and have shared her
post-chaise from Paris: when I say shared, I mean the Countess and her
maid took the inside and left me the outside, where I was exalted to
the dickey amongst a miscellaneous assortment of trunks and bandboxes,
by which I have been jolted and jammed till I haven't a bone in my
body without its particular ache. But the most extraordinary part of
the affair is that I have never yet seen the Countess's face, for she
has always concealed it from me beneath a thick veil. However that's
nothing, there's a secret sympathy by which I think I could discover a
pretty face under a piecrust. Hah! here she comes, and now for the
tender revelation--the soft confession--the blushing avowal--the--
_Enter MRS. GREENFINCH, 2 E. R., in a travelling dress closely veiled,
she carries in her hand a lady's walking basket._
Ah, my charming Countess, at length after a painful--I mean a
delightful journey--we have arrived in Dieppe, and now permit me to
gaze on those lovely features.
MRS. G. (_retires as he approaches_) No, no, _je ne permittez pas;_
nevare, not at all, Monsieur Grinfeench.
GREEN. Dear, Countess, take pity on me. (_aside_) What delightful
accents! She told me she could speak English fluently, and she does.
Am I never to see your face, dear Countess? Oh! have pity on me.
MRS. G. _Oui_, you sall ordere diner _toute de suite._
GREEN. Dinner? certainly, Countess.
_Exit 3 E. L._
BETSY. (_peeping in at door, R._) Is he gone, mum?
MRS. G. Yes, Betsy, you may come in. (_lays the basket she carries on
table, L. and puts up her veil_)
BETSY. (_
| 373.130505 | 1,773 |
2023-11-16 18:22:00.1499240
| 1,121 | 506 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Young Castellan, by George Manville Fenn.
________________________________________________________________________
A Castellan is a person in charge of a castle, and that is what young
Roy Royland has become, while his father, Sir Granby, is away defending
his king. For the time is about 1640, and there is a move afoot in the
country of England to do away with the monarchy. In the castle most of
its old defences have not been used for many years, perhaps centuries,
and old Ben Martlet sets about restoring them, cleaning up the armour,
teaching young Roy the arts of self-defence, by putting him through a
course of fencing, by restoring the portcullis and draw-bridge, and by
training the men from the neighbouring farms to be soldiers.
But eventually, through treachery, the Roundheads, as those who oppose
the monarchy, are called, manage to take the castle, and to make Roy and
his mother, along with old Ben Martlet and the other defenders,
prisoner. This can't do the management of the tenant farms much good.
Eventually Sir Granby, Roy's father, appears on the scene, and the
Roundheads are chased away. As we know from our history books, the
Monarchy was restored, and peace spreads again through the land of
England.
________________________________________________________________________
THE YOUNG CASTELLAN, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
IN THE OLD ARMOURY.
"See these here spots o' red rust, Master Roy?"
"I should be blind as poor old Jenkin if I couldn't, Ben."
"Ay, that you would, sir. Poor old Jenk, close upon ninety he be; and
that's another thing."
"What do you mean?" said the boy addressed.
"What do I mean, sir? Why, I mean as that's another thing as shows as
old England's wore out, and rustin' and moulderin' away."
"Is this Dutch or English, Ben?" said the manly-looking boy, who had
just arrived at the age when dark lads get teased about not having
properly washed the sides of their faces and their upper lips, which
begin to show traces of something "coming up." "I don't understand."
"English, sir," said the weather-beaten speaker, a decidedly ugly man of
about sixty, grizzly of hair and beard, deeply-lined of countenance, and
with a peculiar cicatrice extending from the upper part of his left
cheek-bone diagonally down to the right corner of his lips, and making
in its passage a deep notch across his nose. "English, sir; good old
honest English."
"You're always grumbling, Ben, and you won't get the rust off that
morion with that."
"That I shan't, sir; and if I uses elber grease and sand, it'll only
come again. But it's all a sign of poor old England rustin' and
moulderin' away. The idea! And at a place like this. Old Jenk, as
watch at the gate tower, and not got eyes enough to see across the moat,
and even that's getting full o' mud!"
"Well, you wouldn't have father turn the poor old man away because he's
blind and worn-out."
"Not I, sir," said the man, moistening a piece of flannel with oil,
dipping it into some fine white sand, and then proceeding to scrub away
at the rust spots upon the old helmet, which he now held between his
knees; while several figures in armour, ranged down one side of the low,
dark room in which the work was being carried on, seemed to be looking
on and waiting to have their rust removed in turn.
"Then what do you mean?" said the boy.
"I mean, Master Roy, as it's a pity to see the old towers going down
hill as they are."
"But they're not," cried the boy.
"Not, sir? Well, if you'll excuse me for saying as you're wrong, I'll
say it. Where's your garrison? where's your horses? and where's your
guns, and powder, and shot, and stores?"
"Fudge, then! We don't want any garrison nowadays, and as for horses,
why, it was a sin to keep 'em in those old underground stables that used
to be their lodging. Any one would think you expected to have some one
come and lay siege to the place."
"More unlikely things than that, Master Roy. We live in strange times,
and the king may get the worst of it any day."
"Oh, you old croaker!" cried Roy. "I believe you'd like to have a lot
more men in the place, and mount guard, and go on drilling and
practising with the big guns."
"Ay, sir, I should; and with a place like this, it's what ought to be
done."
"Well, it wouldn't be bad fun, Ben," said the boy, thoughtfully.
"Fun, sir? Don't you get calling serious work like that fun.--But look
| 373.469334 | 1,774 |
2023-11-16 18:22:01.2247160
| 331 | 18 |
Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer,
Ernest Schaal, and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 62.
FEBRUARY 3, 1872.
=PRIVATE SCHOOL CLASSICS.=
(_Letter from a Lady._)
[Illustration]
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
THOUGH you love to laugh, and we all love to laugh with you, I know that
you are kindness itself when an afflicted woman throws herself upon your
sympathy. This letter will not be quite so short as I could wish; but,
unless you have my whole story, you will not understand my sorrow.
My boy, JOHNNY, is one of the dearest boys you can imagine. I send you
his photograph, though it does not half justice to the sweetness and
intelligence of his features; besides, on the day it was taken, he had a
cold, and his hair had not been properly cut, and the photographer was
very impatient, and after eight or nine sittings, he insisted that I
ought to be satisfied. I could tell you a hundred anecdotes of my boy's
cleverness, but three or four, perhaps, will be enough.
[_More than enough, dear Madam. We proceed to the paragraph that
follows them._]
His father, I regret to say, though a kind parent, does not see in
JOHNNY the talent and genius which I am certain
| 374.544126 | 1,775 |
2023-11-16 18:22:01.3078520
| 1,081 | 388 |
DESERT***
E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Jeff Wigley, and Project Gutenberg
Distributed Proofreaders
The Turquoise Cup, and, The Desert
By
Arthur Cosslett Smith
1903
"KHADIJA BELIEVES IN ME"
CONTENTS
I The Turquoise Cup
II The Desert
THE TURQUOISE CUP
The Cardinal Archbishop sat on his shaded balcony, his well-kept hands
clasped upon his breast, his feet stretched out so straight before him
that the pigeon, perched on the rail of the balcony, might have seen
fully six inches of scarlet silk stocking.
The cardinal was a small man, but very neatly made. His hair was as
white as spun glass. Perhaps he was sixty; perhaps he was seventy;
perhaps he was fifty. His red biretta lay upon a near-by chair. His head
bore no tonsure. The razor of the barber and the scythe of Time had
passed him by. There was that faint tinge upon his cheeks that comes to
those who, having once had black beards, shave twice daily. His features
were clearly cut. His skin would have been pallid had it not been olive.
A rebellious lock of hair curved upon his forehead. He resembled the
first Napoleon, before the latter became famous and fat.
The pigeon's mate came floating through the blue sky that silhouetted
the trees in the garden. She made a pretence of alighting upon the
balcony railing, sheered off, coquetted among the treetops, came back
again, retreated so far that she was merely a white speck against the
blue vault, and then, true to her sex, having proved her liberty only to
tire of it, with a flight so swift that the eye could scarcely follow
her, she came back again and rested upon the farther end of the balcony,
where she immediately began to preen herself and to affect an air of
nonchalance and virtue.
Her mate lazily opened one eye, which regarded her for a moment, and
then closed with a wink.
"Ah, my friends," said the cardinal, "there are days when you make me
regret that I am not of the world, but this is not one of them. You have
quarrelled, I perceive. When you build your nest down yonder in the
cote, I envy you. When you are giving up your lives to feeding your
children, I envy you. I watch your flights for food for them. I say to
myself, 'I, too, would struggle to keep a child, if I had one. Commerce,
invention, speculation--why could I not succeed in one of these? I have
arrived in the most intricate profession of all. I am a cardinal
archbishop. Could I not have been a stockbroker?' Ah, signore and
signora," and he bowed to the pigeons, "you get nearer heaven than we
poor mortals. Have you learned nothing--have you heard no whisper--have
you no message for me?"
"Your eminence," said a servant who came upon the balcony, a silver tray
in his hand, "a visitor."
The cardinal took the card and read it aloud--"The Earl of Vauxhall."
He sat silent a moment, thinking. "I do not know him," he said at
length; "but show him up."
He put on his biretta, assumed a more erect attitude, and then turned to
the pigeons.
"Adieu," he said; "commercialism approaches in the person of an
Englishman. He comes either to buy or to sell. You have nothing in
common with him. Fly away to the Piazza, but come back tomorrow. If you
do not, I shall miss you sorely."
The curtains parted, and the servant announced, "The Earl of Vauxhall."
The cardinal rose from his chair.
A young man stepped upon the balcony. He was tall and lithe and blond,
and six-and-twenty.
"Your grace," he said, "I have come because I am in deep trouble."
"In that event," said the cardinal, "you do me much honor. My vocation
is to seek out those who are in trouble. When _they_ seek _me_ it argues
that I am not unknown. You are an Englishman. You may speak your own
language. It is not the most flexible, but it is an excellent vehicle
for the truth."
"Thank you," said the young man; "that gives me a better chance, since
my Italian is of the gondolier type. I speak it mostly with my arms,"
and he began to gesticulate.
"I understand," said the cardinal, smiling, "and I fear that my English
is open to some criticism. I picked it up in the University of Oxford.
My friends in the Vatican tell me that it is a patois."
"I dare say," said the young man. "I was at Cambridge."
"Ah," said the cardinal,
| 374.627262 | 1,776 |
2023-11-16 18:22:01.4016850
| 4,093 | 68 |
Produced by Donald Lainson
MISS BILLY
by Eleanor H. Porter
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. BILLY WRITES A LETTER
II. "THE STRATA"
III. THE STRATA--WHEN THE LETTER COMES
IV. BILLY SENDS A TELEGRAM
V. GETTING READY FOR BILLY
VI. THE COMING OF BILLY
VII. INTRODUCING SPUNK
VIII. THE ROOM--AND BILLY
IX. A FAMILY CONCLAVE
X. AUNT HANNAH
XI. BERTRAM HAS VISITORS
XII. CYRIL TAKES HIS TURN
XIII. A SURPRISE ALL AROUND
XIV. AUNT HANNAH SPEAKS HER MIND
XV. WHAT BERTRAM CALLS "THE LIMIT"
XVI. KATE TAKES A HAND
XVII. A PINK-RIBBON TRAIL
XVIII. BILLY WRITES ANOTHER LETTER
XIX. SEEING BILLY OFF
XX. BILLY, THE MYTH
XXI. BILLY, THE REALITY
XXII. HUGH CALDERWELL
XXIII. BERTRAM DOES SOME QUESTIONING
XXIV. CYRIL, THE ENIGMA
XXV. THE OLD ROOM--AND BILLY
XXVI. "MUSIC HATH CHARMS"
XXVII. MARIE, WHO LONGS TO MAKE PUDDINGS
XXVIII. "I'M GOING TO WIN"
XXIX. "I'M NOT GOING TO MARRY"
XXX. MARIE FINDS A FRIEND
XXXI. THE ENGAGEMENT OF ONE
XXXII. CYRIL HAS SOMETHING TO SAY
XXXIII. WILLIAM IS WORRIED
XXXIV. CLASS DAY
XXXV. SISTER KATE AGAIN
XXXVI. WILLIAM MEETS WITH A SURPRISE
XXXVII. "WILLIAM'S BROTHER"
XXXVIII. THE ENGAGEMENT OF TWO
XXXIX. A LITTLE PIECE OF PAPER
XL. WILLIAM PAYS A VISIT
XLI. THE CROOKED MADE STRAIGHT
XLII. THE "END OF THE STORY"
MISS BILLY
CHAPTER I
BILLY WRITES A LETTER
Billy Neilson was eighteen years old when the aunt, who had brought her
up from babyhood, died. Miss Benton's death left Billy quite alone
in the world--alone, and peculiarly forlorn. To Mr. James Harding,
of Harding & Harding, who had charge of Billy's not inconsiderable
property, the girl poured out her heart in all its loneliness two days
after the funeral.
"You see, Mr. Harding, there isn't any one--not any one who--cares," she
choked.
"Tut, tut, my child, it's not so bad as that, surely," remonstrated the
old man, gently. "Why, I--I care."
Billy smiled through tear-wet eyes.
"But I can't LIVE with you," she said.
"I'm not so sure of that, either," retorted the man. "I'm thinking that
Letty and Ann would LIKE to have you with us."
The girl laughed now outright. She was thinking of Miss Letty, who had
"nerves," and of Miss Ann, who had a "heart"; and she pictured her own
young, breezy, healthy self attempting to conform to the hushed and
shaded thing that life was, within Lawyer Harding's home.
"Thank you, but I'm sure they wouldn't," she objected. "You don't know
how noisy I am."
The lawyer stirred restlessly and pondered.
"But, surely, my dear, isn't there some relative, somewhere?" he
demanded. "How about your mother's people?"
Billy shook her head. Her eyes filled again with tears.
"There was only Aunt Ella, ever, that I knew anything about. She and
mother were the only children there were, and mother died when I was a
year old, you know."
"But your father's people?"
"It's even worse there. He was an only child and an orphan when mother
married him. He died when I was but six months old. After that there was
only mother and Aunt Ella, then Aunt Ella alone; and now--no one."
"And you know nothing of your father's people?"
"Nothing; that is--almost nothing."
"Then there is some one?"
Billy smiled. A deeper pink showed in her cheeks.
"Why, there's one--a man but he isn't really father's people, anyway.
But I--I have been tempted to write to him."
"Who is he?"
"The one I'm named for. He was father's boyhood chum. You see that's why
I'm 'Billy' instead of being a proper 'Susie,' or 'Bessie,' or 'Sally
Jane.' Father had made up his mind to name his baby 'William' after his
chum, and when I came, Aunt Ella said, he was quite broken-hearted until
somebody hit upon the idea of naming me Billy.' Then he was content, for
it seems that he always called his chum 'Billy' anyhow. And so--'Billy'
I am to-day."
"Do you know this man?"
"No. You see father died, and mother and Aunt Ella knew him only very
slightly. Mother knew his wife, though, Aunt Ella said, and SHE was
lovely."
"Hm--; well, we might look them up, perhaps. You know his address?"
"Oh, yes unless he's moved. We've always kept that. Aunt Ella used to
say sometimes that she was going to write to him some day about me, you
know."
"What's his name?"
"William Henshaw. He lives in Boston."
Lawyer Harding snatched off his glasses, and leaned forward in his
chair.
"William Henshaw! Not the Beacon Street Henshaws!" he cried.
It was Billy's turn to be excited. She, too, leaned forward eagerly.
"Oh, do you know him? That's lovely! And his address IS Beacon Street! I
know because I saw it only to-day. You see, I HAVE been tempted to write
him."
"Write him? Of course you'll write him," cried the lawyer. "And we don't
need to do much 'looking up' there, child. I've known the family for
years, and this William was a college mate of my boy's. Nice fellow,
too. I've heard Ned speak of him. There were three sons, William, and
two others much younger than he. I've forgotten their names."
"Then you do know him! I'm so glad," exclaimed Billy. "You see, he never
seemed to me quite real."
"I know about him," corrected the lawyer, smilingly, "though I'll
confess I've rather lost track of him lately. Ned will know. I'll ask
Ned. Now go home, my dear, and dry those pretty eyes of yours. Or,
better still, come home with me to tea. I--I'll telephone up to the
house." And he rose stiffly and went into the inner office.
Some minutes passed before he came back, red of face, and plainly
distressed.
"My dear child, I--I'm sorry, but--but I'll have to take back that
invitation," he blurted out miserably. "My sisters are--are not well
this afternoon. Ann has been having a turn with her heart--you know
Ann's heart is--is bad; and Letty--Letty is always nervous at such
times--very nervous. Er--I'm so sorry! But you'll--excuse it?"
"Indeed I will," smiled Billy, "and thank you just the same; only"--her
eyes twinkled mischievously--"you don't mind if I do say that it IS
lucky that we hadn't gone on planning to have me live with them, Mr.
Harding!"
"Eh? Well--er, I think your plan about the Henshaws is very good,"
he interposed hurriedly. "I'll speak to Ned--I'll speak to Ned," he
finished, as he ceremoniously bowed the girl from the office.
James Harding kept his word, and spoke to his son that night; but there
was little, after all, that Ned could tell him. Yes, he remembered Billy
Henshaw well, but he had not heard of him for years, since Henshaw's
marriage, in fact. He must be forty years old, Ned said; but he was a
fine fellow, an exceptionally fine fellow, and would be sure to deal
kindly and wisely by his little orphan namesake; of that Ned was very
sure.
"That's good. I'll write him," declared Mr. James Harding. "I'll write
him tomorrow."
He did write--but not so soon as Billy wrote; for even as he spoke,
Billy, in her lonely little room at the other end of the town, was
laying bare all her homesickness in four long pages to "Dear Uncle
William."
CHAPTER II
"THE STRATA"
Bertram Henshaw called the Beacon Street home "The Strata." This annoyed
Cyril, and even William, not a little; though they reflected that, after
all, it was "only Bertram." For the whole of Bertram's twenty-four years
of life it had been like this--"It's only Bertram," had been at once the
curse and the salvation of his existence.
In this particular case, however, Bertram's vagary of fancy had some
excuse. The Beacon Street house, the home of the three brothers, was a
"Strata."
"You see, it's like this," Bertram would explain airily to some new
acquaintance who expressed surprise at the name; "if I could slice off
the front of the house like a loaf of cake, you'd understand it better.
But just suppose that old Bunker Hill should suddenly spout fire and
brimstone and bury us under tons of ashes--only fancy the condition of
mind of those future archaeologists when they struck our house after
their months of digging!
"What would they find? Listen. First: stratum number one, the top floor;
that's Cyril's, you know. They'd note the bare floors, the sparse but
heavy furniture, the piano, the violin, the flute, the book-lined walls,
and the absence of every sort of curtain, cushion, or knickknack. 'Here
lived a plain man,' they'd say; 'a scholar, a musician, stern, unloved
and unloving; a monk.'
"And what next? They'd strike William's stratum next, the third floor.
Imagine it! You know William as a State Street broker, well-off,
a widower, tall, angular, slow of speech, a little bald, very much
nearsighted, and the owner of the kindest heart in the world. But really
to know William, you must know his rooms. William collects things. He
has always collected things--and he's saved every one of them. There's a
tradition that at the age of one year he crept into the house with four
small round white stones. Anyhow, if he did, he's got them now. Rest
assured of that--and he's forty this year. Miniatures, carved ivories,
bugs, moths, porcelains, jades, stamps, postcards, spoons, baggage tags,
theatre programs, playing-cards--there isn't anything that he doesn't
collect. He's on teapots, now. Imagine it--William and teapots! And
they're all there in his rooms--one glorious mass of confusion. Just
fancy those archaeologists trying to make their'monk' live there!
"But when they reach me, my stratum, they'll have a worse time yet. You
see, _I_ like cushions and comfort, and I have them everywhere. And I
like--well, I like lots of things. My rooms don't belong to that monk,
not a little bit. And so you see," Bertram would finish merrily, "that's
why I call it all 'The Strata.'"
And "The Strata" it was to all the Henshaws' friends, and even to
William and Cyril themselves, in spite of their objection to the term.
From babyhood the Henshaw boys had lived in the handsome, roomy house,
facing the Public Garden. It had been their father's boyhood home, as
well, and he and his wife had died there, soon after Kate, the only
daughter, had married. At the age of twenty-two, William Henshaw, the
eldest son, had brought his bride to the house, and together they had
striven to make a home for the two younger orphan boys, Cyril, twelve,
and Bertram, six. But Mrs. William, after a short five years of married
life, had died; and since then, the house had known almost nothing of a
woman's touch or care.
Little by little as the years passed, the house and its inmates had
fallen into what had given Bertram his excuse for the name. Cyril,
thirty years old now, dignified, reserved, averse to cats, dogs, women,
and confusion, had early taken himself and his music to the peace
and exclusiveness of the fourth floor. Below him, William had long
discouraged any meddling with his precious chaos of possessions, and had
finally come to spend nearly all his spare time among them. This left
Bertram to undisputed ownership of the second floor, and right royally
did he hold sway there with his paints and brushes and easels, his
old armor, rich hangings, rugs, and cushions, and everywhere his
specialty--his "Face of a Girl." From canvas, plaque, and panel they
looked out--those girlish faces: winsome, wilful, pert, demure, merry,
sad, beautiful, even almost ugly--they were all there; and they were
growing famous, too. The world of art was beginning to take notice, and
to adjust its spectacles for a more critical glance. This "Face of a
Girl" by Henshaw bade fair to be worth while.
Below Bertram's cheery second floor were the dim old library and
drawing-rooms, silent, stately, and almost never used; and below them
were the dining-room and the kitchen. Here ruled Dong Ling, the Chinese
cook, and Pete.
Pete was--indeed, it is hard telling what Pete was. He said he was the
butler; and he looked the part when he answered the bell at the great
front door. But at other times, when he swept a room, or dusted Master
William's curios, he looked--like nothing so much as what he was: a
fussy, faithful old man, who expected to die in the service he had
entered fifty years before as a lad.
Thus in all the Beacon Street house, there had not for years been the
touch of a woman's hand. Even Kate, the married sister, had long since
given up trying to instruct Dong Ling or to chide Pete, though she still
walked across the Garden from her Commonwealth Avenue home and tripped
up the stairs to call in turn upon her brothers, Bertram, William, and
Cyril.
CHAPTER III
THE STRATA--WHEN THE LETTER COMES
It was on the six o'clock delivery that William Henshaw received the
letter from his namesake, Billy. To say the least, the letter was a
great shock to him. He had not quite forgotten Billy's father, who had
died so long ago, it is true, but he had forgotten Billy, entirely. Even
as he looked at the disconcerting epistle with its round, neatly formed
letters, he had great difficulty in ferreting out the particular niche
in his memory which contained the fact that Walter Neilson had had a
child, and had named it for him.
And this child, this "Billy," this unknown progeny of an all but
forgotten boyhood friend, was asking a home, and with him! Impossible!
And William Henshaw peered at the letter as if, at this second reading,
its message could not be so monstrous.
"Well, old man, what's up?" It was Bertram's amazed voice from the hall
doorway; and indeed, William Henshaw, red-faced and plainly trembling,
seated on the lowest step of the stairway, and gazing, wild-eyed, at the
letter in his hand, was somewhat of an amazing sight. "What IS up?"
"What's up!" groaned William, starting to his feet, and waving the
letter frantically in the air. "What's up! Young man, do you want us to
take in a child to board?--a CHILD?" he repeated in slow horror.
"Well, hardly," laughed the other. "Er, perhaps Cyril might like it,
though; eh?"
"Come, come, Bertram, be sensible for once," pleaded his brother,
nervously. "This is serious, really serious, I tell you!"
"What is serious?" demanded Cyril, coming down the stairway. "Can't it
wait? Pete has already sounded the gong twice for dinner."
William made a despairing gesture.
"Well, come," he groaned. "I'll tell you at the table.... It seems I've
got a namesake," he resumed in a shaking voice, a few moments later;
"Walter Neilson's child."
"And who's Walter Neilson?" asked Bertram.
"A boyhood friend. You wouldn't remember him. This letter is from his
child."
"Well, let's hear it. Go ahead. I fancy we can stand the--LETTER; eh,
Cyril?"
Cyril frowned. Cyril did not know, perhaps, how often he frowned at
Bertram.
The eldest brother wet his lips. His hand shook as he picked up the
letter.
"It--it's so absurd," he muttered. Then he cleared his throat and read
the letter aloud.
"DEAR UNCLE WILLIAM: Do you mind my calling you that? You see I want
SOME one, and there isn't any one now. You are the nearest I've got.
Maybe you've forgotten, but I'm named for you. Walter Neilson was my
father, you know. My Aunt Ella has just died.
"Would you mind very much if I came to live with you? That is, between
times--I'm going
| 374.721095 | 1,777 |
2023-11-16 18:22:01.4787080
| 30 | 182 |
Produced by Nicole Henn-Kneif, sp1nd and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp
| 374.798118 | 1,778 |
2023-11-16 18:22:01.4946220
| 2,525 | 81 |
AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION, VOL. 13, ISSUE 368, MAY 2, 1829***
E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Keith M. Eckrich, David Garcia, and
the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 11348-h.htm or 11348-h.zip:
(http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/3/4/11348/11348-h/11348-h.htm)
or
(http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/1/1/3/4/11348/11348-h.zip)
THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.
VOL. 13, No. 368.] SATURDAY, MAY 2, 1829. [PRICE 2d.
* * * * *
CLARENDON HOUSE, PICCADILLY.
[Illustration: CLARENDON HOUSE, PICCADILLY.]
The virtuous and uncompromising chancellor, the Earl of Clarendon, had
a splendid mansion facing the upper end of St. James's-street, on the
site of the present Grafton-street. Of this princely pile, the above
is an accurate engraving. It was built by Clarendon with the stone
intended for the rebuilding of St. Paul's. "He purchased the
materials," says Pennant, "but a nation soured with an unsuccessful
war, with fire, and with pestilence, imputed everything as a crime to
this great and envied character; his enemies called it Dunkirk House,
calumniating him with having built it with the money arising from the
sale of that town, which had just before been given up to the French,
for a large sum, by his Master."
It is true that Clarendon built this mansion in a season of
discontent; but so sensible was he of his vanity and imprudence in
building so large a house, and of the envy it drew upon him, that he
afterwards apologized for the act; which he declares, so far exceeded
the proposed expense, as to add greatly to the embarrassment of his
affairs.
This mansion cost L50,000. and 300 men were employed in the building.
It was purchased from his lordship by George Monk, Duke of Albemarle,
and afterwards by another nobleman, inferior indeed in abilities, but
not inferior in virtues. In 1670, James, Duke of Ormond, resided at
Clarendon House; and on his way thither, he was one day dragged out of
his coach by the infamous Blood and his associates, who intended to
hang his Grace at Tyburn, in revenge for justice done, under his
administration in Ireland, on some of their companions. "This
refinement in revenge," says Pennant, "saved the duke's life; he had
leisure to disengage himself from the villain on horseback, to whom he
was tied; by which time he was discovered by his servants, and rescued
from death."
The original of our Engraving was copied from a rare print, which, in
the year 1790, was in the collection of Thomas Allen, Esq. Appended to
the former is a section, showing the relative situation of Clarendon
House, which was taken from a map of London (supposed to be unique) in
an illustrated _Clarendon's History_, in the possession of John
Charles Crowle, Esq. By the section, the entrance-gate to the
court-yard of the house appears to have been in Piccadilly, in a
direct line with St. James's Street, and the grounds to have extended
to Bruton Street at the back, where there was likewise a
communication. The site of the front gate is now, therefore, the
commencement of _Albemarle Street_, named after one of the
distinguished occupants of Clarendon House.
Notwithstanding the revolutions of time and fashion in this quarter,
the illustrious name of the founder of Clarendon House is still
preserved in the "_Clarendon Hotel_," which occupies a portion of the
original ground already described. One of the changes is, that instead
of the Chancellor meditating upon his dismissal from office, which his
very virtues and stately dignity, and a weak king, and a more wicked
and envious faction had brought about,--we have well-living twos and
fours hob-nobbing over Chateau-Margaux, or yielding to the delightful
inspirations of Ay Champagne. Not a few more of the good things of
this great town are assembled near the same spot. Albemarle Street has
many first-rate hotels, and two handsome club-houses; while on the
Bond Street side of the quadrangle are two or three extensive
libraries, an immense porcelain repository, and a score of fashionable
_artistes_. What idle delights are all these compared with the wisdom
and virtue which once dwelt on the same spot. But had Clarendon lived
to see Crockford's splendid subscription-house rise after a golden
shower, in St. James's Street, (and this he might have done from the
front-windows of Clarendon House) he would, perhaps, have given us an
extra volume of _Essays_. We would that he _had_ so lived, if only
that his sublime truths might thus nave been multiplied for the good
of mankind, if not for the weak heads of St. James's Street.
* * * * *
THE GLANCIN' E'E.
Oh lassie tell me can'st thou lo'e,
I hae gaz'd upon thy glancin' e'e;
It soars aboon, it rolls below,
But, ah, it never rests on me.
Oh lassie I hae socht the hour
When pity wak'nin' lo'e might be,
Tell my sair heart a gauldin' flower
Has droopit in thy glancin' e'e.
Oh lassie, turn not sae awa'
Disdainfu', gie na death to me;
Does pity mark the tears that fa'?
Exhale them wi' thy glancin' e'e.
C.C.
* * * * *
WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
(_For the Mirror_.)
"There is a voice from the grave sweeter than song."--_Washington
Irving_.
Illustrious dead! one tributary sigh,
In that great temple where the mighty lie,
I breath'd for you--a magic charm was there
Where rest the great and good, the wise and fair;
Their glittering day of fame has had its close
And beauty, genius, grandeur, there repose.
Immortal names! kings, queens, and statesmen rise
In marble forms before the gazer's eyes.
Cold, pale, and silent, down each lessening aisle
They clustering stand, and mimic life awhile.
The warrior chief, in sculptur'd beauty dies,
And in Fame's clasping arms for ever lies.
"Each in his place of state," the rivals stand,
The senators, who saved a sinking land;
Majestic, graceful,--each with "lips apart"
Whose eloquence subdued and won the heart.
Pitt! round thy name how bright a halo burns,
When memory to thy day of glory turns;
And views thee in life's bright meridian lie,
And victim to thy patriot spirit die!
Round Fox's tomb, what forms angelic weep,
And ever watch that chill and marble sleep!
Silence, how eloquent! how deep--profound--
She holds her reign above the hallow'd ground.
Here sceptred monarchs in death's slumbers lie,
Tudors, Plantagenets--they too could die!
Beneath a'scutcheon'd arch, with banners spread,
Unhappy, murdered, Richard rests his head.
While Pomfret's walls in "ruin greenly tell,"
How fought the brave and how the noble fell!
Pale rose of York! thy sanguine rival rears
Full many a tomb, and many a trophy bears.
But who lies here? in marble lovely still,
Here let me pause, and fancy take her fill.
Poor ill-starr'd Mary; Melancholy gloom
And fond regrets are waking o'er thy tomb.
Bright was thy morn of promise, dark the day,
That clos'd thy fate in murderous Fotheringay!
How near thee lies that "bright star of the west,"
Elizabeth, of queens the wisest, best;
Her "lion port," and her imperial brow,
The dark grey stone essays in vain to show.
Ye royal rivals of a former day,
How has your love and hatred pass'd away!
To future times how faint the voice of fame,
For greatness here but "stalks an empty name."
Around, above, how sorrow builds her throne,
To snatch from death's embrace each treasure gone.
See, how the horrid phantom bends his bow,
And points his dart to lay that victim low![1]
She sinks, she falls, and her fond husband's breast
Is the cold pillow to that marble rest!
But softly tread upon the sacred ground,
Where Britain's bards lie sepulchred round.
Sons of the muse, who woke the magic spell,
From the deep windings of "Apollo's shell!"
Mute is each lyre, their silent strings are bound
With willow, yew, and cypress wreath'd around.
Their hopes, joys, sorrows, rest within the grave
Admiring nations to their relics gave.
Hail, mighty shades! bright spirits of the past;
Here may your ashes sleep while time shall last.
Let kindred genius shed the pensive tear,
And grace with votive elegy each bier.
While far beyond this melancholy vale,
When faded sorrow tells her mournful tale,
"O'er this dim spot of earth," in regions fair
Your spirits dwell, and joys eternal share.
[1] The tomb of Mrs. Nightingale.
_Kirton Lindsey_.
ANNIE R.
* * * * *
THE COSMOPOLITE.
* * * * *
THE TIMES NEWSPAPER.
We are not about to write an advertisement for this advertised of all
advertisers--nor to talk of its square feet--its crowded broadside--or
the myriads of letters that make it resemble a sea of animalculae. We
are content to leave all the pride of its machinery to Messrs.
Applegath and Cowper, and the clang of its engine to the peaceful
purlieus of Printing-house Square. Yet these are interesting items in
the advancement of science, and in the history of mankind; for whether
taken mechanically or morally, the _Times_ is, without exception, the
newspaper of all newspapers, "the observed of all _observers_" and
altogether, the most extraordinary production of this or any other
age.
But we are more anxious to reach what may be called the philosophy of
a newspaper--that broad volume of human life, in which "the follies,
vices, and consequent miseries of multitudes are displayed." To prove
this, only let the reader glance over the twenty-four
| 374.814032 | 1,779 |
2023-11-16 18:22:01.9192480
| 4,484 | 64 |
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)
Philippine Bureau of Agriculture.
Farmer's Bulletin No. 2.
CACAO CULTURE IN THE PHILIPPINES
By
WILLIAM S. LYON,
In charge of seed and plant introduction.
Prepared under the direction of the Chief of the Bureau.
Manila:
Bureau of Public Printing.
1902.
CONTENTS.
Page.
Letter of transmittal 4
Introduction 5
Climate 6
The plantation site 7
The soil 7
Preparation of the soil 8
Drainage 8
Forming the plantation 9
Selection of varieties 10
Planting 11
Cultivation 13
Pruning 13
Harvest 16
Enemies and diseases 18
Manuring 19
Supplemental notes 21
New varieties 21
Residence 21
Cost of a cacao plantation 22
LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL.
Sir: I submit herewith an essay on the cultivation of cacao, for the
use of planters in the Philippines. This essay is prompted first,
because much of the cacao grown here is of such excellent quality as
to induce keen rivalry among buyers to procure it at an advance of
quite 50 per cent over the common export grades of the Java bean,
notwithstanding the failure on the part of the local grower to
"process" or cure the product in any way; second, because in parts
of Mindanao and <DW64>s, despite ill treatment or no treatment, the
plant exhibits a luxuriance of growth and wealth of productiveness
that demonstrates its entire fitness for those regions and leads us
to believe in the successful extension of its propagation throughout
these Islands; and lastly because of the repeated calls upon the Chief
of the Agricultural Bureau for literature or information bearing upon
this important horticultural industry.
The importance of cacao-growing in the Philippines can hardly be
overestimated. Recent statistics place the world's demand for cacao
(exclusive of local consumption) at 200,000,000 pounds, valued at
more than $30,000,000 gold.
There is little danger of overproduction and consequent low prices
for very many years to come. So far as known, the areas where cacao
prospers in the great equatorial zone are small, and the opening and
development of suitable regions has altogether failed to keep pace
with the demand.
The bibliography of cacao is rather limited, and some of the best
publications, [2] being in French, are unavailable to many. The leading
English treatise, by Professor Hart, [3] admirable in many respects,
deals mainly with conditions in Trinidad, West Indies, and is fatally
defective, if not misleading, on the all-important question of pruning.
The life history of the cacao, its botany, chemistry, and statistics
are replete with interest, and will, perhaps, be treated in a future
paper.
Respectfully,
Wm. S. Lyon,
In Charge of Seed and Plant Introduction.
Hon. F. Lamson-Scribner,
Chief of the Insular Bureau of Agriculture.
CACAO CULTURE IN THE PHILIPPINES.
INTRODUCTION.
Cacao in cultivation exists nearly everywhere in the Archipelago. I
have observed it in several provinces of Luzon, in Mindanao, Jolo,
Basilan, Panay, and <DW64>s, and have well-verified assurances of its
presence in Cebu, Bohol, and Masbate, and it is altogether reasonable
to predicate its existence upon all the larger islands anywhere under
an elevation of 1,000 or possibly 1,200 meters. Nevertheless, in many
localities the condition of the plants is such as not to justify the
general extension of cacao cultivation into all regions. The presence
of cacao in a given locality is an interesting fact, furnishing a
useful guide for investigation and agricultural experimentation, but,
as the purpose of this paper is to deal with cacao growing from a
commercial standpoint, it is well to state that wherever reference is
made to the growth, requirements, habits, or cultural treatment of the
plant the commercial aspect is alone considered. As an illustration,
attention is called to the statement made elsewhere, that "cacao exacts
a minimum temperature of 18 deg."; although, as is perfectly well known
to the writer, its fruit has sometimes matured where the recorded
temperatures have fallen as low as 10 deg.. There is much to be learned
here by experimentation, for as yet the cultivation is primitive
in the extreme, pruning of any kind rudimentary or negative, and
"treatment" of the nut altogether unknown.
Elsewhere in cacao-producing countries its cultivation has long passed
the experimental stage, and the practices that govern the management
of a well-ordered cacao plantation are as clearly defined as those
of an orange grove in Florida or a vineyard in California.
In widely scattered localities the close observer will find many
young trees that in vigor, color, and general health leave nothing
to be desired, but before making final selection for a plantation he
should inspect trees of larger growth for evidences of "die back" of
the branches. If "die back" is present, superficial examination will
generally determine if it is caused by neglect or by the attacks
of insects. If not caused by neglect or insect attacks, he may
assume that some primary essential to the continued and successful
cultivation of the tree is wanting and that the location is unsuited
to profitable plantations.
With due regard to these preliminary precautions and a close
oversight of every subsequent operation, there is no reason why the
growing of cacao may not ultimately become one of the most profitable
horticultural enterprises that can engage the attention of planters
in this Archipelago.
CLIMATE.
It is customary, when writing of any crop culture, to give precedence
to site and soil, but in the case of cacao these considerations are
of secondary importance, and while none of the minor operations of
planting, pruning, cultivation, and fertilizing may be overlooked,
they are all outweighed by the single essential--climate.
In general, a state of atmospheric saturation keeps pace with heavy
rainfall, and for that reason we may successfully look for the highest
relative humidity upon the eastern shores of the Archipelago, where
the rainfall is more uniformly distributed over the whole year,
than upon the west.
There are places where the conditions are so peculiar as to challenge
especial inquiry. We find on the peninsula of Zamboanga a recorded
annual mean rainfall of only 888 mm., and yet cacao (unirrigated)
exhibits exceptional thrift and vigor. It is true that this rain is
so evenly distributed throughout the year that every drop becomes
available, yet the total rainfall is insufficient to account for
the very evident and abundant atmospheric humidity indicated by
the prosperous conditions of the cacao plantations. The explanation
of this phenomenon, as made to me by the Rev. Father Algue, of the
Observatory of Manila, is to the effect that strong equatorial ocean
currents constantly prevail against southern Mindanao, and that their
influence extend north nearly to the tenth degree of latitude. These
currents, carrying their moisture-laden atmosphere, would naturally
affect the whole of this narrow neck of land and influence as well
some of the western coast of Mindanao, and probably place it upon
the same favored hygrometric plane as the eastern coast, where the
rainfall in some localities amounts to 4 meters a year.
While 2,000 mm. of mean annual rainfall equably distributed is ample
to achieve complete success, it seems almost impossible to injure
cacao by excessive precipitation. It has been known to successfully
tide over inundation of the whole stem up to the first branches for
a period covering nearly a month.
Irrigation must be resorted to in cases of deficient or unevenly
distributed rainfall, and irrigation is always advantageous whenever
there is suspension of rain for a period of more than fifteen days.
Concerning temperatures the best is that with an annual mean of 26 deg.
to 28 deg., with 20 deg. as the mean minimum where any measure of success
may be expected. A mean temperature of over 30 deg. is prejudicial to
cacao growing.
The last but not least important of the atmospheric phenomena for
our consideration are the winds. Cacao loves to "steam and swelter in
its own atmosphere" and high winds are inimical, and even refreshing
breezes are incompatible, with the greatest success. As there are but
few large areas in these Islands that are exempt from one or other
of our prevailing winds, the remedies that suggest themselves are:
The selection of small sheltered valleys where the prevailing winds
are directly cut off by intervening hills or mountains; the plantation
of only small groves in the open, and their frequent intersection by
the plantation of rapid growing trees; and, best of all, plantings
made in forest clearings, where the remaining forested lands will
furnish the needed protection.
LOCATION.
It is always desirable to select a site that is approximately level
or with only enough fall to assure easy drainage. Such sites may
be planted symmetrically and are susceptible to the easiest and
most economical application of the many operations connected with
a plantation.
Provided the region is well forested and therefore protected from
sea breezes, the plantation may be carried very near to the coast,
provided the elevation is sufficient to assure the grove immunity from
incursions of tide water, which, however much diluted, will speedily
cause the death of the plants.
Excavations should be made during the dry season to determine that
water does not stand within 1 1/2 meters of the surface, a more
essential condition, however, when planting is made "at stake" than
when nursery reared trees are planted.
Hillsides, when not too precipitous, frequently offer admirable shelter
and desirable soils, but their use entails a rather more complicated
system of drainage, to carry away storm water without land washing,
and for the ready conversion of the same into irrigating ditches during
the dry season. Further, every operation involved must be performed
by hand labor, and in the selection of such a site the planter must
be largely influenced by the quantity and cost of available labor.
The unexceptionable shelter, the humidity that prevails, and the
inexhaustible supply of humus that is generally found in deep
forest ravines frequently lead to their planting to cacao where
the <DW72> is even as great as 45 deg.. Such plantations, if done upon
a considerable commercial scale, involve engineering problems and
the careful terracing of each tree, and, except for a dearth of more
suitable locations, is a practice that has little to commend it to
the practical grower.
THE SOIL.
Other things being equal, preference should be given to a not too
tenacious, clayey loam. Selection, in fact, may be quite successfully
made through the process of exclusion, and by eliminating all soils
of a very light and sandy nature, or clays so tenacious that the
surface bakes and cracks while still too wet within 3 or 4 inches of
the surface to operate with farm tools. These excluded, still leave
a very wide range of silt, clay, and loam soils, most of which are
suitable to cacao culture.
Where properly protected from the wind a rocky soil, otherwise good,
is not objectionable; in fact, such lands have the advantage of
promoting good drainage.
PREPARATION OF THE SOIL.
When the plantation is made upon forest lands, it is necessary to
cut and burn all underbrush, together with all timber trees other
than those designed for shade. If such shade trees are left (and the
advisability of leaving them will be discussed in the proper place),
only those of the pulse or bean family are to be recommended. It should
also be remembered that, owing in part to the close planting of cacao
and in part to the fragility of its wood and its great susceptibility
to damage resulting from wounds, subsequent removal of large shade
trees from the plantation is attended with difficulty and expense,
and the planter should leave few shade trees to the hectare. Clearing
the land should be done during the dry season, and refuse burned in
situ, thereby conserving to the soil the potash salts so essential
to the continued well-being of cacao.
The land should be deeply plowed, and, if possible, subsoiled as well,
and then, pending the time of planting the orchard, it may be laid
down to corn, cotton, beans, or some forage plant. Preference should
be given to "hoed crops," as it is essential to keep the surface in
open tilth, as well as to destroy all weeds.
The common practice in most cacao-growing countries is to simply dig
deep holes where the trees are to stand, and to give a light working
to the rest of the surface just sufficient to produce the intermediate
crops. This custom is permissible only on <DW72>s too steep for the
successful operation of a side hill plow, or where from lack of draft
animals all cultivation has to be done by hand.
Cacao roots deeply, and with relatively few superficial feeders,
and the deeper the soil is worked the better.
DRAINAGE.
The number and size of the drains will depend upon the amount of
rainfall, the contour of the land, and the natural absorbent character
of the soil. In no case should the ditches be less than 1 meter wide
and 60 cm. deep, and if loose stones are at hand the sloping sides
may be laid with them, which will materially protect them from washing
by torrential rains.
These main drains should all be completed prior to planting. Connecting
laterals may be opened subsequently, as the necessities of further
drainage or future irrigation may demand; shallow furrows will
generally answer for these laterals, and as their obliteration will
practically follow every time cultivation is given, their construction
may be of the cheapest and most temporary nature. Owing to the
necessity of main drainage canals and the needful interplanting of
shade plants between the rows of cacao, nothing is gained by laying off
the land for planting in what is called "two ways," and all subsequent
working of the orchard will consequently be in one direction.
THE PLANTATION.
Cacao, relatively to the size of the tree, may be planted very
closely. We have stated that it rejoices in a close, moisture-laden
atmosphere, and this permits of a closer planting than would be
admissible with any other orchard crop.
In very rich soil the strong-growing Forastero variety may be planted
3.7 meters apart each way, or 745 trees to the hectare, and on lighter
lands this, or the more dwarf-growing forms of Criollo, may be set
as close as 3 meters or rather more than 1,000 trees to the hectare.
The rows should be very carefully lined out in one direction and
staked where the young plants are to be set, and then (a year before
the final planting) between each row of cacao a line of temporary
shelter plants are to be planted. These should be planted in quincunx
order, i. e., at the intersecting point of two lines drawn between
the diagonal corners of the square made by four cacaos set equidistant
each way. This temporary shelter is indispensable for the protection
of the young plantation from wind and sun.
The almost universal custom is to plant, for temporary shelter, suckers
of fruiting bananas, but throughout the Visayas and in Southern Luzon
I think abaca could be advantageously substituted. It is true that,
as commonly grown, abaca does not make so rank a growth as some
of the plantains, but if given the perfect tillage which the cacao
plantation should receive, and moderately rich soils, abaca ought to
furnish all necessary shade. This temporary shade may be maintained
till the fourth or fifth year, when it is to be grubbed out and the
stalks and stumps, which are rich in nitrogen, may be left to decay
upon the ground. At present prices, the four or five crops which
may be secured from the temporary shelter plants ought to meet the
expenses of the entire plantation until it comes into bearing.
In the next step, every fourth tree in the fourth or fifth row
of cacao may be omitted and its place filled by a permanent shade
tree. The planting of shade trees or "madre de cacao" among the cacao
has been observed from time immemorial in all countries where the crop
is grown, and the primary purpose of the planting has been for shade
alone. Observing that these trees were almost invariably of the pulse
or legume family, the writer, in the year 1892, raised the question,
in the Proceedings of the Southern California Horticultural Society,
that the probable benefits derived were directly attributable to the
abundant fertilizing microoerganisms developed in the soil by these
leguminous plants, rather than the mechanical protection they afforded
from the sun's rays.
To Mr. O. F. Cook, of the United States Department of Agriculture,
however, belongs the credit of publishing, in 1901, [4] a resume of
his inquiries into the subject of the shades used for both the coffee
and the cacao, and which fully confirmed the previous opinions that
the main benefit derived from these trees was their influence in
maintaining a constant supply of available nitrogen in the soil.
That cacao and its wild congenors naturally seek the shelter of
well-shaded forests is well established; but having seen trees in these
Islands that were fully exposed at all times showing no evidences of
either scald, burn, or sun spot, and in every respect the embodiment
of vigor and health, we are fully justified in assuming that here the
climatic conditions are such as will permit of taking some reasonable
liberties with this time-honored practice and supply needed nitrogen
to the soil by the use of cheap and effective "catch crops," such us
cowpeas or soy beans.
Here, as elsewhere, an Erythrina, known as "dap-dap," is a favorite
shade tree among native planters; the rain tree (Pithecolobium saman)
is also occasionally used, and in one instance only have I seen a
departure from the use of the Leguminosae, and that in western Mindanao,
there is a shade plantation composed exclusively of Cananga odorata,
locally known as ilang-ilang.
While not yet prepared to advocate the total exclusion of all shade
trees, I am prepared to recommend a shade tree, if shade trees there
must be, whose utility and unquestioned value has singularly escaped
notice. The tree in question, the Royal Poinciana (Poinciana regia),
embodies all of the virtues that are ascribed to the best of the
pulse family, is easily procured, grows freely and rapidly from seed
or cutting, furnishes a minimum of shade at all times, and, in these
Islands, becomes almost leafless, at the season of maturity of the
largest cacao crop when the greatest sun exposure is desired.
The remaining preparatory work consists in the planting of intersecting
wind breaks at intervals throughout the grove, and upon sides exposed
to winds, or where a natural forest growth does not furnish such a
shelter belt. Unless the plantation lies in a particularly protected
valley, no plantation, however large in the aggregate, should cover
more than 4 or 5 hectares unbroken by at least one row of wind-break
trees. Nothing that I know of can approach the mango for this
purpose. It will hold in check the fiercest gale and give assurance
to the grower that after any storm his cacao crop is still on the
trees and not on the ground, a prey to ants, mice, and other vermin.
SELECTION OF VARIETIES.
All the varieties of cacao in general cultivation may be referred to
three general types, the Criollo, Forastero, and Calabacillo; and
of these, those that I have met in cultivation in the Archipelago
are the first and
| 375.238658 | 1,780 |
2023-11-16 18:22:02.3677370
| 1,073 | 408 |
Produced by David Schaal, Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by the Canadian Institute for
Historical Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org))
[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE. _Vol. 3._
_Designed & Etched by W. H. Brooks A. R. H. A._
In a moment multitudes of bright beings start up--"He is ours"!!! _page 110._
_London, Published by Colburn & Bentley--April 1830._]
TRADITIONS OF THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS:
BEING
A SECOND AND REVISED EDITION OF
"TALES OF AN INDIAN CAMP."
BY
JAMES ATHEARN JONES.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1830.
F. SHOBERL, JUN., LONG ACRE.
CONTENTS
OF
THE THIRD VOLUME.
Page
The Lake of the White Canoe 1
A Legend of the Bomelmeeks 33
The King of the Elks 47
The Daughters of the Sun 77
The Maiden and the Bird 91
The Island of Eagles 117
Legend of Aton-Larre 145
The Fire-Spirit 167
The Origin of Women 175
The Hill of Fecundity. A Tradition of the Minnatarees 183
TALES OF A WHITE MAN'S GHOST.
I. Garanga 191
II. The Warning of Tekarrah 213
III. The Legend of Pomperaug 237
IV. The Son of Annawan 251
V. The Cascade of Melsingah 279
Legend of Coatuit Brook 305
The Spirits of Vapour 313
The Devil of Cape Higgin 321
TALES OF AN INDIAN CAMP.
THE LAKE OF THE WHITE CANOE.
Wo! Wo! Wo
Wo to the sons of the far-off land,
Weak in heart and pale in face,
Deer in battle, moose in a race,
Panthers wanting claw and tooth
Wo to the red man, strong of hand,
Steady of purpose, lithe of limb,
Calm in the toils of the foe,
Knowing nor tears nor ruth
Wo to them and him,
If, cast by hard fate at the midnight damp,
Or an hour of storm in the dismal swamp,
That skirts the Lake of the White Canoe!
Wo to him and them,
If, when the night's dim lamps are veil'd,
And the Hunter's Star is hid,
And the moon has shut her lid,
For their wearied limbs the only birth
Be the cold and frosty earth,
And their flesh be burnt by the gum exhal'd
From the cedar's poisonous stem,
And steep'd in the blistering dew
Of the barren vine in the birchen copse,
Where rear the pines their giant tops
Above the Lake of the White Canoe!
My brother hears--'t is well--
And let him shun the spot,
The damp and dismal brake,
That skirts the shallow lake,
The brown and stagnant pool[A],
The dark and miry fen,
And let him never at nightfall spread
His blanket among the isles that dot
The surface of that lake;
And let my brother tell
The men of his race that the wolf hath fed
Ere now on warriors brave and true,
In the fearful Lake of the White Canoe.
Wo! Wo! Wo!
To him that sleeps in those dark fens!
The she-wolf will stir the brake,
And the copper-snake breathe in his ear,
And the bitterns will start by tens,
And the slender junipers shake
With the weight of the nimble bear,
And the pool resound with the cayman's plash,
And the owl will hoot in the boughs of the ash,
Where he sits so calm and cool;
Above his head, the muckawiss[B]
Will sing his gloomy song;
Frogs will scold in the pool,
To see the musk-rat carry along
The perch to his hairy brood;
And, coil'd at his feet, the horn-snake will hiss,
Nor last nor least of the throng,
The shades of the youth and maid so true,
That haunt the Lake of the White Canoe.
And, if he chance to sleep,
Still will his
| 375.687147 | 1,781 |
2023-11-16 18:22:02.9608220
| 1,191 | 407 |
Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Keren Vergon, Thomas Berger
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE DRAMATIC WORKS
OF
GERHART HAUPTMANN
(Authorized Edition)
Edited By LUDWIG LEWISOHN
Assistant Professor in The Ohio State University
VOLUME TWO: SOCIAL DRAMAS
1913
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
_By the Editor_.
DRAYMAN HENSCHEL (Fuhrmann Henschel)
_Translated by the Editor_.
ROSE BERND (Rose Bernd)
_Translated by the Editor_.
THE RATS (Die Ratten)
_Translated by the Editor_.
INTRODUCTION
The first volume of the present edition of Hauptmann's Dramatic Works is
identical in content with the corresponding volume of the German edition.
In the second volume _The Rats_ has been substituted for two early prose
tales which lie outside of the scope of our undertaking. Hence these two
volumes include that entire group of dramas which Hauptmann himself
specifically calls social. This term must not, of course, be pressed too
rigidly. Only in _Before Dawn_ and in _The Weavers_ can the dramatic
situation be said to arise wholly from social conditions rather than from
the fate of the individual. It is true, however, that in the seven plays
thus far presented all characters are viewed primarily as, in a large
measure, the results of their social environment. This environment is, in
all cases, proportionately stressed. To exhibit it fully Hauptmann uses,
beyond any other dramatist, passages which, though always dramatic in
form, are narrative and, above all, descriptive in intention. The silent
burden of these plays, the ceaseless implication of their fables, is the
injustice and inhumanity of the social order.
Hauptmann, however, has very little of the narrow and acrid temper of the
special pleader. He is content to show humanity. It is quite conceivable
that the future, forgetful of the special social problems and the
humanitarian cult of to-day, may view these plays as simply bodying forth
the passions and events that are timeless and constant in the inevitable
march of human life. The tragedies of _Drayman Henschel_ and of _Rose
Bernd_, at all events, stand in no need of the label of any decade. They
move us by their breadth and energy and fundamental tenderness.
No plays of Hauptmann produce more surely the impression of having been
dipped from the fullness of life. One does not feel that these men and
women--Hanne Schael and Siebenhaar, old Bernd and the Flamms--are called
into a brief existence as foils or props of the protagonists. They led
their lives before the plays began: they continue to live in the
imagination long after Henschel and Rose have succumbed. How does
Christopher Flamm, that excellent fellow and most breathing picture of
the average man, adjust his affairs? He is fine enough to be permanently
stirred by the tragedy he has earned, yet coarse enough to fall back into
a merely sensuous life of meaningless pleasures. But at his side sits
that exquisite monitor--his wife. The stream of their lives must flow on.
And one asks how and whither? To apply such almost inevitable questions
to Hauptmann's characters is to be struck at once by the exactness and
largeness of his vision of men. Few other dramatists impress one with an
equal sense of life's fullness and continuity,
"The flowing, flowing, flowing of the world."
The last play in this volume, _The Rats_, appeared in 1911, thirteen
years after _Drayman Henschel_, nine years after _Rose Bernd_. A first
reading of the book is apt to provoke disappointment and confusion. Upon
a closer view, however, the play is seen to be both powerful in itself
and important as a document in criticism and _Kulturgeschichte_. It
stands alone among Hauptmann's works in its inclusion of two separate
actions or plots--the tragedy of Mrs. John and the comedy of the
Hassenreuter group. Nor can the actions be said to be firmly interwoven:
they appear, at first sight, merely juxtaposed. Hauptmann would
undoubtedly assert that, in modern society, the various social classes
live in just such juxtaposition and have contacts of just the kind here
chronicled. His real purpose in combining the two fables is more
significant. Following the great example, though not the precise method,
of Moliere, who produced _La Critique de l'Ecole des Femmes_ on the
boards of his theater five months after the hostile reception of _L'Ecole
des Femmes_, Hauptmann gives us a naturalistic tragedy and, at the same
time, its criticism and defense. His tenacity to the ideals of his youth
is impressively illustrated here. In his own work he has created a new
idealism. But let it not be thought that his understanding of tragedy and
his sense of human values have changed. The charwoman may, in very truth,
be a Muse of tragedy, all grief is of an equal sacredness, and even the
incomparable Hassenreuter--wind-bag, chauvinist and consistent
_Goetheaner_--is forced by the essential soundness of his heart to blurt
out an admission of the basic principle of naturalistic dramaturgy.
The group of characters in _The R
| 376.280232 | 1,782 |
2023-11-16 18:22:03.0225160
| 1,094 | 362 |
Produced by Distributed Proofreaders
Female Scripture Biography:
Including an Essay on What Christianity Has Done for Women.
By Francis Augustus Cox, A.M.
"It is a necessary charity to the (female) sex to acquaint them with their
own value, to animate them to some higher thoughts of themselves, not to
yield their suffrage to those injurious estimates the world hath made of
them, and from a supposed incapacity of noble things, to neglect the
pursuit of them, from which God and nature have no more precluded the
feminine than the masculine part of mankind."
The Ladies' Calling, Pref.
VOL. II.
BOSTON:
LINCOLN & EDMANDS.
1831.
Contents of Vol. I.
Essay
The Virgin Mary--Chapter I.
Section I.
Congratulation of the angel Gabriel--advantages of the Christian
dispensation--Eve and Mary compared--state of Mary's family at the
incarnation--she receives an angelic visit--his promise to her of a son,
and prediction of his future greatness--Mary goes to Elizabeth, their
meeting--Mary's holy enthusiasm and remarkable language--Joseph informed
of the miraculous conception by an angel--general remarks
Section II.
Nothing happens by chance--dispensations preparatory to the coming of
Christ--prophecy of Micah accomplished by means of the decree of
Augustus--Mary supernaturally strengthened to attend upon her new-born
infant--visit of the shepherds Mary's reflections--circumcision of the
child--taken to the temple--Simeon's rapture and prediction--visit and
offerings of the Arabian philosophers--general considerations
Section III.
The flight into Egypt--Herod's cruel proceedings and death--Mary goes to
Jerusalem with Joseph--on their return their Child is missing--they find
him among the doctors--he returns with them, the feast of Cana--Christ's
treatment of his mother when she desired to speak to him--her behaviour
at the crucifixion--she is committed to the care of John--valuable
lessons to be derived from this touching scene
Section IV.
Brief account of the extravagant regard which has been paid to the
Virgin Mary at different periods--the names by which she has been
addressed, and the festivals instituted to honour her memory--general
remarks on the nature and character of superstition, particularly that
of the Catholics
Elizabeth--Chapter II.
The angelic appearance to Zacharias--birth of John characters of
Elizabeth and Zacharias--importance of domestic union being founded on
religion, shown in them--their venerable age--the characteristic
features of their piety--the happiness of a life like theirs--the effect
it is calculated to produce on others--the perpetuation of holy
friendship through immortal ages--the miserable condition of the
irreligious
Anna--Chapter III.
Introduction of Anna into the sacred story--inspired description of
her--the aged apt to be unduly attached to life--Anna probably religious
at an early period--Religion the most substantial support amidst the
infirmities of age--the most effectual guard against its vices--and the
best preparation for its end
The Woman of Samaria--Chapter IV.
Account of Christ's journey through Samaria--he arrives at Jacob's
well--enters into conversation with a woman of the country--her
misapprehensions--the discovery of his character to her as a prophet her
convictions--her admission of his claim as the true Messiah, which she
reports in the city--the great and good effect--reflections
The Woman Who Was a Sinner--Chapter V.
Jesus and John contrasted--the former goes to dine at the house of a
Pharisee--a notorious woman introduces herself, and weeps at his
feet--remarks on true repentance and faith, as exemplified in her
conduct--surmises of Simon the Pharisee--the answer of Jesus the woman
assured of forgiveness--instructions deducible from the parable
The Syrophenician--Chapter VI.
Introductory observations--Christ could not be concealed the
Syrophenician woman goes to him on account of her daughter--her
humility--earnestness--faith--the silence of Christ upon her application
to him--the disciples repulsed--the woman's renewed importunity--the
apparent scorn with which it is treated--her admission of the
contemptuous insinuation--her persevering ardour--her ultimate
success--the necessity of being importunate in prayer--remarks on the
woman's national character--present state of the Jews: the hope of their
final restoration,
Martha and Mary--Chapter VII.
Bethany distinguished as the residence of a pious family, which
consisted of Lazarus and his two sisters--their diversity of
character--the faults of Martha, domestic vanity and fretfulness of
temper--her counterbalancing
| 376.341926 | 1,783 |
2023-11-16 18:22:03.3813350
| 459 | 562 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: _THE TWO MAIDEN AUNTS._]
TWO MAIDEN AUNTS
BY
MARY H. DEBENHAM
AUTHOR OF 'MISTRESS PHIL' 'A LITTLE CANDLE ETC.
_WITH TWO FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS_
_BY GERTRUDE D. HAMMOND_
LONDON
NATIONAL SOCIETY'S REPOSITORY
BROAD SANCTUARY, WESTMINSTER
NEW YORK: THOMAS WHITTAKER, 2 & 3 BIBLE HOUSE
[All rights reserved]
1895
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
THE MAVIS AND THE MERLIN. Price 2s.
MY GOD-DAUGHTER. Price 2s.
MOOR AND MOSS. Price 2s. 6d.
FOR KING AND HOME. Price 2s. 6d.
MISTRESS PHIL. Price 2s.
A LITTLE CANDLE. Price 3s. 6d.
FAIRMEADOWS FARM. Price 2s.
ST. HELEN'S WELL. Price 2s.
NATIONAL SOCIETY'S DEPOSITORY,
SANCTUARY, WESTMINSTER. S.W.
[Illustration: Contents headpiece]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE AUNTS
II. THE NEPHEW
III. THE FIRST DAY
IV. A HEART OF OAK
V. THE WRONG END
VI. CHRISTMAS AT OAKFIELD
VII. HERO AND HEROINES
VIII. IN THE CHANNEL
IX. IN PORT
[Illustration: Contents tailpiece]
[Illustration: Illustrations headpiece]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE TWO MAIDEN AUNTS................ (_Frontispiece_)
'WHAT USEFUL THINGS SHALL I DO,' HE ASKED
| 376.700745 | 1,784 |
2023-11-16 18:22:03.4321990
| 985 | 426 |
Produced by Louise Hope, Charlene Taylor,
Google Books 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)
[This text is intended for users whose text readers cannot use the
"real" (Unicode/UTF-8) version of the file. Characters that could not
be fully displayed have been "unpacked" and shown in brackets:
[s] (long s; bracketed [s] does not occur)
[-a] [-i] [-p] (letters with overlines and similar diacritics)
[m-p] pair of letters with shared overline
These characters occur only in quoted material. Greek has been
transliterated and shown with #marks#.
Footnotes have been numbered continuously within each chapter. Monograms
and similar symbols are shown in the text with [[double brackets]].
There is no table of contents, but the List of Illustrations gives the
same information.]
[Illustration:
WILLIAM BLAKE. W. J. LINTON.
DEATH'S DOOR.]
A TREATISE
on
WOOD ENGRAVING
+Historical and Practical+
with Upwards of Three Hundred Illustrations
Engraved on Wood
BY JOHN JACKSON.
THE HISTORICAL PORTION BY W. A. CHATTO.
+Second Edition+
with a New Chapter
on the Artists of the Present Day
BY HENRY G. BOHN
And 145 Additional Wood Engravings.
LONDON
Henry G. Bohn, York Street, Covent Garden.
M.DCCC.LXI.
[Illustration:
Richard Clay / Breads Hill / Sola Lux Mihi Laus / London]
NOTICE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
The former edition of this History of Wood Engraving having become
extremely scarce and commercially valuable, the publisher was glad to
obtain the copyright and wood-blocks from Mr. Mason Jackson, son of the
late Mr. Jackson, original proprietor of the work, with the view of
reprinting it.
It will be seen by the two distinct prefaces which accompanied the
former edition, and are here reprinted, that there was some existing
schism between the joint producers at the time of first publication. Mr.
Jackson, the engraver, paymaster, and proprietor, conceived that he had
a right to do what he liked with his own; while Mr. Chatto, his literary
coadjutor, very naturally felt that he was entitled to some recognition
on the title-page of what he had so successfully performed. On the book
making its appearance without Mr. Chatto's name on the title-page, and
with certain suppressions in his preface to which he had not given
consent, a virulent controversy ensued, which was embodied in a pamphlet
termed "a third preface," and afterwards carried on in the _Athenaeum_ of
August and September, 1839. As this preface has nothing in it but the
outpourings of a quarrel which can now interest no one, I do not
republish any part of it; and looking back on the controversy after the
lapse of twenty years, I cannot help feeling that Mr. Chatto had
reasonable ground for complaining that his name was omitted, although I
think Mr. Jackson had full right to determine what the book should be
called, seeing that it was his own exclusive speculation. It is not for
me to change a title now so firmly established, but I will do Mr. Chatto
the civility to introduce his name on it, without concerning myself with
the question of what he did or did not do, or what Mr. Jackson
contributed beyond his practical remarks and anxious superintendence.
Although I have the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with Mr. Chatto,
and communicated to him my intention of republishing the work,
I declined letting him see it through the press; resolving to stand
wholly responsible for any alterations or improvements I might choose to
make. On the other hand, I have been quite as chary of letting even the
shade of Mr. Jackson raise a new commotion--I say the shade, because,
having his own copy full of manuscript remarks, it was at my option to
use them; but I have adopted nothing from this source save a few
palpable amendments. What additions have been made are entirely my own,
and have arisen from a desire to increase the number of illustrations
| 376.751609 | 1,785 |
2023-11-16 18:22:03.4819190
| 6,445 | 51 |
Produced by David Widger
THE INSIDE OF THE CUP
By Winston Churchill
Volume 6.
XX. THE ARRAIGNMENT
XXI. ALISON GOES TO CHURCH
XXII. WHICH SAY TO THE SEERS, SEE NOT!
CHAPTER XX
THE ARRAIGNMENT
I
Looking backward, Hodder perceived that he had really come to the
momentous decision of remaining at St. John's in the twilight of an
evening when, on returning home from seeing Kate Marcy at Mr. Bentley's
he had entered the darkening church. It was then that his mission had
appeared to him as a vision. Every day, afterward, his sense and
knowledge of this mission had grown stronger.
To his mind, not the least of the trials it was to impose upon him, and
one which would have to be dealt with shortly, was a necessary talk with
his assistant, McCrae. If their relationship had from the beginning been
unusual and unsatisfactory, adjectives would seem to defy what it had
become during the summer. What did McCrae think of him? For Hodder had,
it will be recalled, bidden his assistant good-by--and then had remained.
At another brief interview, during which McCrae had betrayed no surprise,
uttered no censure or comment, Hodder had announced his determination to
remain in the city, and to take no part in the services. An announcement
sufficiently astounding. During the months that followed, they had met,
at rare intervals, exchanged casual greetings, and passed on. And yet
Hodder had the feeling, more firmly planted than ever, that McCrae was
awaiting, with an interest which might be called suspense, the
culmination of the process going on within him.
Well, now that he had worked it out, now that he had reached his
decision, it was incumbent upon him to tell his assistant what that
decision was. Hodder shrank from it as from an ordeal. His affection
for the man, his admiration for McCrae's faithful, untiring, and
unrecognized services had deepened. He had a theory that McCrae
really liked him--would even sympathize with his solution; yet he
procrastinated. He was afraid to put his theory to the test. It was not
that Hodder feared that his own solution was not the right one, but that
McCrae might not find it so: he was intensely concerned that it should
also be McCrae's solution--the answer, if one liked, to McCrae's mute and
eternal questionings. He wished to have it a fruition for McCrae as well
as for himself; since theoretically, at least, he had pierced the hard
crust of his assistant's exterior, and conceived him beneath to be all
suppressed fire. In short, Hodder wished to go into battle side by side
with McCrae. Therein lay his anxiety.
Another consideration troubled him--McCrae's family, dependent on a
rather meagre salary. His assistant, in sustaining him in the struggle
he meant to enter, would be making even a greater sacrifice than himself.
For Hodder had no illusions, and knew that the odds against him were
incalculable. Whatever, if defeated, his own future might be, McCrae's
was still more problematical and tragic.
The situation, when it came, was even more difficult than Hodder
had imagined it, since McCrae was not a man to oil the wheels of
conversation. In silence he followed the rector up the stairs and into
his study, in silence he took the seat at the opposite side of the table.
And Hodder, as he hesitated over his opening, contemplated in no little
perplexity and travail the gaunt and non-committal face before him:
"McCrae," he began at length, "you must have thought my conduct this
summer most peculiar. I wish to thank you, first of all, for the
consideration you have shown me, and to tell you how deeply I appreciate
your taking the entire burden of the work of the parish."
McCrae shook his head vigorously, but did not speak.
"I owe it to you to give you some clew to what happened to me," the
rector continued, "although I have an idea that you do not need much
enlightenment on this matter. I have a feeling that you have somehow
been aware of my discouragement during the past year or so, and of the
causes of it. You yourself hold ideals concerning the Church which you
have not confided to me. Of this I am sure. I came here to St. John's
full of hope and confidence, gradually to lose both, gradually to realise
that there was something wrong with me, that in spite of all my efforts
I was unable to make any headway in the right direction. I became
perplexed, dissatisfied--the results were so meagre, so out of proportion
to the labour. And the very fact that those who may be called our chief
parishioners had no complaint merely added to my uneasiness. That kind
of success didn't satisfy me, and I venture to assume it didn't satisfy
you."
Still McCrae made no sign.
"Finally I came to what may be termed a double conclusion. In the first
place, I began to see more and more clearly that our modern civilization
is at fault, to perceive how completely it is conducted on the
materialistic theory of the survival of the fittest rather than that of
the brotherhood of man, and that those who mainly support this church
are, consciously or not, using it as a bulwark for the privilege they
have gained at the expense of their fellow-citizens. And my conclusion
was that Christianity must contain some vital germ which I had somehow
missed, and which I must find if I could, and preach and release it.
That it was the release of this germ these people feared unconsciously.
I say to you, at the risk of the accusation of conceit, that I believed
myself to have a power in the pulpit if I could only discover the truth."
Hodder thought he detected, as he spoke these words, a certain relaxation
of the tension.
"For a while, as the result of discouragement, of cowardice, I may say,
of the tearing-down process of the theological structure--built of debris
from many ruins on which my conception of Christianity rested, I lost all
faith. For many weeks I did not enter the church, as you yourself must
know. Then, when I had given up all hope, through certain incidents and
certain persona, a process of reconstruction began. In short, through no
virtue which I can claim as my own, I believe I have arrived at the
threshold of an understanding of Christianity as our Lord taught it and
lived it. And I intend to take the pulpit and begin to preach it.
"I am deeply concerned in regard to yourself as to what effect my course
may have on you. And I am not you to listen to me with a view that you
should see your way clear to support me McCrae, but rather that you
should be fully apprised of my new belief and intentions. I owe this to
you, for your loyal support in the pest. I shall go over with you,
later, if you care to listen, my whole position. It may be called the
extreme Protestant position, and I use protestant, for want of a better
word, to express what I believe is Paul's true as distinguished from the
false of his two inconsistent theologies. It was this doctrine of Paul's
of redemption by faith, of reacting grace by an inevitable spiritual law
--of rebirth, if you will--that Luther and the Protestant reformers
revived and recognized, rightly, as the vital element of Christ's
teachings, although they did not succeed in separating it wholly from the
dross which clung to it. It is the leaven which has changed governments,
and which in the end, I am firmly convinced, will make true democracy
inevitable. And those who oppose democracy inherently dread its
workings.
"I do not know your views, but it is only fair to add at this time that I
no longer believe in the external and imposed authority of the Church in
the sense in which I formerly accepted it, nor in the virgin birth, nor
in certain other dogmas in which I once acquiesced. Other clergymen of
our communion have proclaimed, in speech and writing, their disbelief in
these things. I have satisfied my conscience as they have, and I mean to
make no secret of my change. I am convinced that not one man or woman
in ten thousand to-day who has rejected Christianity ever knew what
Christianity is. The science and archaic philosophy in which
Christianity has been swaddled and hampered is discredited, and the
conclusion is drawn that Christianity itself must be discredited."
"Ye're going to preach all this?" McCrae demanded, almost fiercely.
"Yes," Hodder replied, still uncertain as to his assistant's attitude,
"and more. I have fully reflected, and I am willing to accept all the
consequences. I understand perfectly, McCrae, that the promulgation
alone of the liberal orthodoxy of which I have spoken will bring me into
conflict with the majority of the vestry and the congregation, and that
the bishop will be appealed to. They will say, in effect, that I have
cheated them, that they hired one man and that another has turned up,
whom they never would have hired. But that won't be the whole story.
If it were merely a question of doctrine, I should resign. It's deeper
than that, more sinister." Hodder doubled up his hand, and laid it on
the table. "It's a matter," he said, looking into McCrae's eyes, "of
freeing this church from those who now hold it in chains. And the two
questions, I see clearly now, the doctrinal and the economic, are so
interwoven as to be inseparable. My former, ancient presentation of
Christianity left men and women cold. It did not draw them into this
church and send them out again fired with the determination to bring
religion into everyday life, resolved to do their part in the removal of
the injustices and cruelties with which we are surrounded, to bring
Christianity into government, where it belongs. Don't misunderstand me
I'm not going to preach politics, but religion."
"I don't misunderstand ye," answered McCrae. He leaned a little forward,
staring at the rector from behind his steel spectacles with a glance
which had become piercing.
"And I am going to discourage a charity which is a mockery of
Christianity," Hodder went on, "the spectacle of which turns thousands
of men and women in sickening revolt against the Church of Christ to-day.
I have discovered, at last, how some of these persons have made their
money, and are making it. And I am going to let them know, since they
have repudiated God in their own souls, since they have denied the
Christian principle of individual responsibility, that I, as the vicar of
God, will not be a party to the transaction of using the Church as a
means of doling out ill-gotten gains to the poor."
"Mr. Parr!" McCrae exclaimed.
"Yes," said the rector, slowly, and with a touch of sadness, "since you
have mentioned him, Mr. Parr. But I need not say that this must go no
farther. I am in possession of definite facts in regard to Mr. Parr
which I shall present to him when he returns."
"Ye'll tell him to his face?"
"It is the only way."
McCrae had risen. A remarkable transformation had come over the man,
--he was reminiscent, at that moment, of some Covenanter ancestor going
into battle. And his voice shook with excitement.
"Ye may count on me, Mr. Hodder," he cried. "These many years I've
waited, these many years I've seen what ye see now, but I was not the
man. Aye, I've watched ye, since the day ye first set foot in this
church. I knew what was going on inside of ye, because it was just
that I felt myself. I hoped--I prayed ye might come to it."
The sight of this taciturn Scotchman, moved in this way, had an
extraordinary effect on Hodder himself, and his own emotion was so
inexpressibly stirred that he kept silence a moment to control it.
This proof of the truth of his theory in regard to McCrae he found
overwhelming.
"But you said nothing, McCrae," he began presently. "I felt all along
that you knew what was wrong--if you had only spoken."
"I could not," said McCrae. "I give ye my word I tried, but I just could
not. Many's the time I wanted to--but I said to myself, when I looked at
you, 'wait, it will come, much better than ye can say it.' And ye have
made me see more than I saw, Mr. Hodder,--already ye have. Ye've got the
whole thing in ye're eye, and I only had a part of it. It's because
ye're the bigger man of the two."
"You thought I'd come to it?" demanded Hodder, as though the full force
of this insight had just struck him.
"Well," said McCrae, "I hoped. It seemed, to look at ye, ye'r true
nature--what was by rights inside of ye. That's the best explaining I
can do. And I call to mind that time ye spoke about not making the men
in the classes Christians--that was what started me to thinking."
"And you asked me," returned the rector, "how welcome some of them would
be in Mr. Parr's Pew."
"Ah, it worried me," declared the assistant, with characteristic
frankness, "to see how deep ye were getting in with him."
Hodder did not reply to this. He had himself risen, and stood looking at
McCrae, filled with a new thought.
"There is one thing I should like to say to you--which is very difficult,
McCrae, but I have no doubt you see the matter as clearly as I do. In
making this fight, I have no one but myself to consider. I am a single
man--"
"Yell not need to go on," answered McCrae, with an odd mixture of
sternness and gentleness in his voice. "I'll stand and fall with ye, Mr.
Hodder. Before I ever thought of the Church I learned a trade, as a boy
in Scotland. I'm not a bad carpenter. And if worse comes to worse, I've
an idea I can make as much with my hands as I make in the ministry."
The smile they exchanged across the table sealed the compact between
them.
II
The electric car which carried him to his appointment with the financier
shot westward like a meteor through the night. And now that the hour was
actually at hand, it seemed to Hodder that he was absurdly unprepared to
meet it. New and formidable aspects, hitherto unthought of, rose in his
mind, and the figure of Eldon Parr loomed to Brobdingnagian proportions
as he approached it. In spite of his determination, the life-blood of
his confidence ebbed, a sense of the power and might of the man who had
now become his adversary increased; and that apprehension of the impact
of the great banker's personality, the cutting edge with the vast
achievements wedged in behind it, each adding weight and impetus to its
momentum the apprehension he had felt in less degree on the day of the
first meeting, and which had almost immediately evaporated--surged up
in him now. His fear was lest the charged atmosphere of the banker's
presence might deflect his own hitherto clear perception of true worth.
He dreaded, once in the midst of those disturbing currents, a bungling
presentation of the cause which inspired him, and which he knew to be
righteousness itself.
Suddenly his mood shifted, betraying still another weakness, and he saw
Eldon Parr, suddenly, vividly--more vividly, indeed, than ever before--in
the shades of the hell of his loneliness. And pity welled up, drowning
the image of incarnate greed and selfishness and lust for wealth and
power: The unique pathos of his former relationship with the man
reasserted itself, and Hodder was conscious once more of the dependence
which Eldon Parr had had on his friendship. During that friendship he,
Hodder, had never lost the sense of being the stronger of the two, of
being leaned upon: leaned upon by a man whom the world feared and hated,
and whom he had been enable to regard with anything but compassion and
the unquestionable affection which sprang from it. Appalled by this
transition, he alighted from the car, and stood for a moment alone in the
darkness gazing at the great white houses that rose above the dusky
outline of shrubbery and trees.
At any rate, he wouldn't find that sense of dependence to-night. And it
steeled him somewhat to think, as he resumed his steps, that he would
meet now the other side, the hard side hitherto always turned away. Had
he needed no other warning of this, the answer to his note asking for an
appointment would have been enough,--a brief and formal communication
signed by the banker's secretary...
"Mr. Parr is engaged just at present, sir," said the servant who opened
the door. "Would you be good enough to step into the library?"
Hardly had he entered the room when he heard a sound behind him, and
turned to confront Alison. The thought of her, too, had complicated
infinitely his emotions concerning the interview before him, and the
sight of her now, of her mature beauty displayed in evening dress, of her
white throat gleaming whiter against the severe black of her gown, made
him literally speechless. Never had he accused her of boldness, and now
least of all. It was the quality of her splendid courage that was borne
in upon him once more above the host of other feelings and impressions,
for he read in her eyes a knowledge of the meaning of his visit.
They stood facing each other an appreciable moment.
"Mr. Langmaid is with him now," she said, in a low voice.
"Yes," he answered.
Her eyes still rested on his face, questioningly, appraisingly, as though
she were seeking to estimate his preparedness for the ordeal before him,
his ability to go through with it successfully, triumphantly. And in her
mention of Langmaid he recognized that she had meant to sound a note of
warning. She had intimated a consultation of the captains, a council of
war. And yet he had never spoken to her of this visit. This proof of
her partisanship, that she had come to him at the crucial instant,
overwhelmed him.
"You know why I am here?" he managed to say. It had to do with the
extent of her knowledge.
"Oh, why shouldn't I?" she cried, "after what you have told me. And
could you think I didn't understand, from the beginning, that it meant
this?"
His agitation still hampered him. He made a gesture of assent.
"It was inevitable," he said.
"Yes, it' was inevitable," she assented, and walked slowly to the mantel,
resting her hand on it and bending her head. "I felt that you would not
shirk it, and yet I realize how painful it must be to you."
"And to you," he replied quickly.
"Yes, and to me. I do not know what you know, specifically,--I have
never sought to find out things, in detail. That would be horrid. But
I understand--in general--I have understood for many years." She raised
her head, and flashed him a glance that was between a quivering smile and
tears. "And I know that you have certain specific information."
He could only wonder at her intuition.
"So far as I am concerned, it is not for the world," he answered.
"Oh, I appreciate that in you!" she exclaimed. "I wished you to know it.
I wished you to know," she added, a little unsteadily, "how much I admire
you for what you are doing. They are afraid of you--they will crush you
if they can."
He did not reply.
"But you are going to speak the truth," she continued, her voice low and
vibrating, "that is splendid! It must have its effect, no matter what
happens."
"Do you feel that?" he asked, taking a step toward her.
"Yes. When I see you, I feel it, I think."...
Whatever answer he might have made to this was frustrated by the
appearance of the figure of Nelson Langmaid in the doorway. He seemed
to survey them benevolently through his spectacles.
"How are you, Hodder? Well, Alison, I have to leave without seeing
anything of you--you must induce your father not to bring his business
home with him. Just a word," he added to the rector, "before you go up."
Hodder turned to Alison. "Good night," he said.
The gentle but unmistakable pressure of her hand he interpreted as the
pinning on him of the badge of her faith. He was to go into battle
wearing her colours. Their eyes met.
"Good night," she answered....
In the hall the lawyer took his arm.
"What's the trouble, Hodder?" he asked, sympathetically.
Hodder, although on his guard, was somewhat taken aback by the directness
of the onslaught.
"I'm afraid, Mr. Langmaid," the rector replied, "that it would take me
longer to tell you than the time at your disposal."
"Dear me," said the lawyer, "this is too bad. Why didn't you come to me?
I am a good friend of yours, Hodder, and there is an additional bond
between us on my sister's account. She is extremely fond of you, you
know. And I have a certain feeling of responsibility for you,--I brought
you here."
"You have always been very kind, and I appreciate it," Hodder replied.
"I should be sorry to cause you any worry or annoyance. But you must
understand that I cannot share the responsibility of my acts with any
one."
"A little advice from an old legal head is sometimes not out of place.
Even Dr. Gilman used to consult me. I hope you will bear in mind how
remarkably well you have been getting along at St. John's, and what a
success you've made."
"Success!" echoed the rector.
Either Mr. Langmaid read nothing in his face, or was determined to read
nothing.
"Assuredly," he answered, benignly. "You have managed to please
everybody, Mr. Parr included,--and some of us are not easy to please.
I thought I'd tell you this, as a friend, as your first friend in the
parish. Your achievement has been all the more remarkable, following,
as you did, Dr. Gilman. Now it would greatly distress me to see that
state of things disturbed, both for your sake and others. I thought I
would just give you a hint, as you are going to see Mr. Parr, that he
is in rather a nervous state. These so-called political reformers have
upset the market and started a lot of legal complications that's why I'm
here to-night. Go easy with him. I know you won't do anything foolish."
The lawyer accompanied this statement with a pat, but this time he did
not succeed in concealing his concern.
"That depends on one's point of view," Hodder returned, with a smile.
"I do not know how you have come to suspect that I am going to disturb
Mr. Parr, but what I have to say to him is between him and me."
Langmaid took up his hat from the table, and sighed.
"Drop in on me sometime," he said, "I'd like to talk to you--Hodder heard
a voice behind him, and turned. A servant was standing there.
"Mr. Parr is ready to see you, sir," he said.
The rector followed him up the stairs, to the room on the second floor,
half office, half study, where the capitalist transacted his business
when at home.
III
Eldon Parr was huddled over his desk reading a typewritten document; but
he rose, and held out his hand, which Hodder took.
"How are you, Mr. Hodder? I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but
matters of some legal importance have arisen on which I was obliged to
make a decision. You're well, I hope." He shot a glance at the rector,
and sat down again, still holding the sheets. "If you will excuse me a
moment longer, I'll finish this."
"Certainly," Hodder replied.
"Take a chair," said Mr. Parr, "you'll find the evening paper beside
you."
Hodder sat down, and the banker resumed his perusal of the document, his
eye running rapidly over the pages, pausing once in a while to scratch
out a word or to make a note on the margin. In the concentration of the
man on the task before him the rector read a design, an implication that
the affairs of the Church were of a minor importance: sensed, indeed,
the new attitude of hostility, gazed upon the undiscovered side, the
dangerous side before which other men had quailed. Alison's words
recurred to him, "they are afraid of you, they will crush you if they
can." Eldon Parr betrayed, at any rate, no sign of fear. If his mental
posture were further analyzed, it might be made out to contain an
intimation that the rector, by some act, had forfeited the right
to the unique privilege of the old relationship.
Well, the fact that the banker had, in some apparently occult manner,
been warned, would make Hodder's task easier--or rather less difficult.
His feelings were even more complicated than he had anticipated. The
moments of suspense were trying to his nerves, and he had a shrewd notion
that this making men wait was a favourite manoeuvre of Eldon Parr's; nor
had he underrated the benumbing force of that personality. It was
evident that the financier intended him to open the battle, and he was
--as he had expected--finding it difficult to marshal the regiments of his
arguments. In vain he thought of the tragedy of Garvin.... The
thing was more complicated. And behind this redoubtable and sinister
Eldon Parr he saw, as it were, the wraith of that: other who had once
confessed the misery of his loneliness....
At last the banker rang, sharply, the bell on his desk. A secretary
entered, to whom he dictated a telegram which contained these words:
"Langmaid has discovered a way out." It was to be sent to an address in
Texas. Then he turned in his chair and crossed his knees, his hand
fondling an ivory paper-cutter. He smiled a little.
"Well, Mr. Hodder," he said.
The rector, intensely on his guard, merely inclined his head in
recognition that his turn had come.
"I was sorry," the banker continued, after a perceptible pause,--that
you could not see your way clear to have come with me on the cruise."
"I must thank you again," Hodder answered, "but I felt--as I wrote you
--that certain matters made it impossible for me to go."
"I suppose you had your reasons, but I think you would have enjoyed the
trip. I had a good, seaworthy boat--I chartered her from Mr. Lieber, the
president of the Continental Zinc, you know. I went as far as Labrador.
A wonderful coast, Mr. Hodder."
"It must be," agreed the rector. It was clear that Mr. Parr intended to
throw upon him the onus of the first move. There was a silence, brief,
indeed, but long enough for Hodder to feel more and more distinctly the
granite hardness which the other had become, to experience a rising,
reenforcing anger. He went forward, steadily but resolutely, on the
crest of it. "I have remained in the city," he continued, "and I have had
the opportunity to discover certain facts of which I have hitherto been
ignorant, and which, in my opinion, profoundly affect the welfare of the
church. It is of these I wished to speak to you."
Mr. Parr waited.
"It is not much of an exaggeration to say that ever since I came here
I have been aware that St. John's, considering the long standing of the
parish, the situation of the church in a thickly populated district, is
not fulfilling its mission. But I have failed until now to perceive the
causes of that inefficiency."
"Inefficiency?" The banker repeated the word.
"Inefficiency," said Hodder. "The reproach, the responsibility is
largely mine, as the rector, the spiritual, head of the parish. I
believe I am right when I say that the reason for the decision, some
twenty years ago, to leave the church where it is, instead of selling the
| 376.801329 | 1,786 |
2023-11-16 18:22:03.5785120
| 395 | 87 |
Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798
IN LONDON AND MOSCOW, Volume 5b--TO LONDON
THE MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA DE SEINGALT
THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR MACHEN TO
WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED BY ARTHUR SYMONS.
TO LONDON
CHAPTER V
I Meet the Venetian Ambassadors at Lyons, and also Marcoline's Uncle--I
Part from Marcoline and Set Out for Paris--An Amorous Journey
Thus freed from the cares which the dreadful slanders of Possano had
caused me, I gave myself up to the enjoyment of my fair Venetian, doing
all in my power to increase her happiness, as if I had had a premonition
that we should soon be separated from one another.
The day after the supper I gave to Madame Pernon and M. Bono, we went to
the theatre together, and in the box opposite to us I saw M. Querini, the
procurator, Morosini, M. Memmo, and Count Stratico, a Professor of the
University of Padua. I knew all these gentlemen; they had been in London,
and were passing through Lyons on their return to Venice.
"Farewell, fair Marcoline!" I said to myself, feeling quite
broken-hearted, but I remained calm, and said nothing to her. She did not
notice them as she was absorbed in her conversation with M. Bono, and
besides, she did not know them by sight. I saw that M. Memmo had seen me
and was telling the procurator
| 376.897922 | 1,787 |
2023-11-16 18:22:03.7731430
| 1,070 | 392 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Wayne Hammond and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
TOUR
OF
THE AMERICAN LAKES,
AND AMONG
THE INDIANS
OF THE
NORTH-WEST TERRITORY,
IN 1830:
DISCLOSING THE CHARACTER AND PROSPECTS OF THE
INDIAN RACE.
BY C. COLTON.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
FREDERICK WESTLEY AND A. H. DAVIS,
MDCCCXXXIII.
LONDON
R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD-STREET-HILL.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
Page
ADVERTISEMENT ix
INTRODUCTION xi
CHAP. I.
The Falls of Niagara 1
CHAP. II.
Niagara Whirlpool 12
CHAP. III.
Geographical description of the Great Lakes of North
America 21
CHAP. IV.
The Author’s motives for undertaking the _Tour_; character
of wild Indians 28
CHAP. V.
Romantic expectations; impressions of nursery tales
respecting Indians; the savage proper; embarkation
from Buffalo; beauties of Lake Erie; arrival
at Detroit 33
CHAP. VI.
History of Detroit:--early trading posts; Pontiac’s
conspiracy; Detroit saved; Pontiac’s death; description
and beauties of the Territory of Michigan 40
CHAP. VII.
Remarkable instance of capital crime 48
CHAP. VIII.
Embarkation from Detroit; Captain Symmes’s theory
of the earth; sail over Lake St. Clair; interest of
the scene; delta of the River St. Clair; relics of
French population; a picture of French and Indians 54
CHAP. IX.
River St. Clair; visit to Fort Gratiot; memoranda of
Lake Huron:--wild and picturesque scenery of its
northern regions; meeting with a canoe, manned by
eight Indians with the paddle; their dexterity and
the celerity of their movement; an Indian encampment;
their lodges; the Indian paddle quicker than
steam; the Indian’s love of money and whiskey;
an Indian salute; and several interesting incidents
of the passage among the islands of the north
margin of Huron 63
CHAP. X.
Arrival at the _Saut de St. Marie_; origin of this name;
the Falls; an interesting young lady, whose mother
was an Indian and her father a Scotchman; peculiar
and moral power of Indian languages 80
CHAP. XI.
Voyage from the Saut de St. Marie to Green Bay;
the thirty-two thousand islands; the scenery they
create; description of Michillimackinack; the sugar-loaf
and arched rock; arrival at Green Bay in the
North-West Territory 88
CHAP. XII.
Political relations of the American Indian tribes; their
rights ostensibly, but not really respected; the pre-emption
right and its operation; the original claims
of Europeans a precedent; late juridical decision
of the American Supreme Court; Great Britain
and the United States both responsible in the treatment
and for the fate of the Indians 96
CHAP. XIII.
Vindication of the American Indians from the charge
of being Savages; their domestic affections kind and
amiable; their savage passions artificial, kindled by
the war-dance, and only for war; the Indian in war
is frantic, and never the aggressor, without a sense
of injury; Indian character essentially modified by
contact with the European race 109
CHAP. XIV.
Gradual extinction of the Eastern tribes; the New
York tribes advised to remove to the North-West
Territory; concurrence of the General Government
in the plan; parts of the Indians agree to it; the
nature of the understanding; their purchase of land
and removal; their expectations; their disappointment;
supposed scheme for breaking up this new
arrangement, and the result of it; the reasons for
this narrative; extracts from the Rev. Dr. Morse’s
Report to Congress, evincing the views then entertained
in regard to this removal of the New York
Indians 122
CHAP. XV.
The design of the Commission of 1830 to Green Bay;
ignorance of Government of the state of the case;
history of the title in dispute and the measures
employed
| 377.092553 | 1,788 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.0066480
| 1,786 | 50 |
Produced by David Newman, Chuck Greif, Janet Blenkinship
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
Among the Farmyard People
BY
Clara Dillingham Pierson
Author of "Among the Meadow People," and "Forest People".
Illustrated by F. C. GORDON
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
Copyright by
E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
1899
TO THE CHILDREN
_Dear Little Friends:_
I want to introduce the farmyard people to you, and to have you call
upon them and become better acquainted as soon as you can. Some of them
are working for us, and we surely should know them. Perhaps, too, some
of us are working for them, since that is the way in this delightful
world of ours, and one of the happiest parts of life is helping and
being helped.
It is so in the farmyard, and although there is not much work that the
people there can do for each other, there are many kind things to be
said, and even the Lame Duckling found that he could make the Blind
Horse happy when he tried. It is there as it is everywhere else, and I
sometimes think that although the farmyard people do not look like us or
talk like us, they are not so very different after all. If you had seen
the little Chicken who wouldn't eat gravel when his mother was reproving
him, you could not have helped knowing his thoughts even if you did not
understand a word of the Chicken language. He was thinking, "I don't
care! I don't care a bit! So now!" That was long since, for he was a
Chicken when I was a little girl, and both of us grew up some time ago.
I think I have always been more sorry for him because when he was
learning to eat gravel I was learning to eat some things which I did not
like; and so, you see, I knew exactly how he felt. But it was not until
afterwards that I found out how his mother felt.
That is one of the stories which I have been keeping a long time for
you, and the Chicken was a particular friend of mine. I knew him better
than I did some of his neighbors; yet they were all pleasant
acquaintances, and if I did not see some of these things happen with my
own eyes, it is just because I was not in the farmyard at the right
time. There are many other tales I should like to tell you about them,
but one mustn't make the book too fat and heavy for your hands to hold,
so I will send you these and keep the rest.
Many stories might be told about our neighbors who live out-of-doors,
and they are stories that ought to be told, too, for there are still
boys and girls who do not know that animals think and talk and work, and
love their babies, and help each other when in trouble. I knew one boy
who really thought it was not wrong to steal newly built birds'-nests,
and I have seen girls--quite large ones, too--who were afraid of Mice!
It was only last winter that a Quail came to my front door, during the
very cold weather, and snuggled down into the warmest corner he could
find. I fed him, and he stayed there for several days, and I know, and
you know, perfectly well that although he did not say it in so many
words, he came to remind me that I had not yet told you a Quail story.
And two of my little neighbors brought ten Polliwogs to spend the day
with me, so I promised then and there that the next book should be about
pond people and have a Polliwog story in it.
And now, good-bye! Perhaps some of you will write me about your visits
to the farmyard. I hope you will enjoy them very much, but be sure you
don't wear red dresses or caps when you call on the Turkey Gobbler.
Your friend,
CLARA DILLINGHAM PIERSON.
Stanton, Michigan,
March 28, 1899.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE STORY THAT THE SWALLOW DIDN'T TELL 1
THE LAMB WITH THE LONGEST TAIL 12
THE WONDERFUL SHINY EGG 20
THE DUCKLING WHO DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO 33
THE FUSSY QUEEN BEE 47
THE BAY COLT LEARNS TO MIND 64
THE TWIN LAMBS 82
THE VERY SHORT STORY OF THE FOOLISH LITTLE MOUSE 96
THE LONELY LITTLE PIG 106
THE KITTEN WHO LOST HERSELF 116
THE CHICKEN WHO WOULDN'T EAT GRAVEL 136
THE GOOSE WHO WANTED HER OWN WAY 149
WHY THE SHEEP RAN AWAY 160
THE FINE YOUNG RAT AND THE TRAP 172
THE QUICK-TEMPERED TURKEY GOBBLER 186
THE BRAGGING PEACOCK 199
THE DISCONTENTED GUINEA HEN 213
THE OXEN TALK WITH THE CALVES 232
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THE SWALLOWS ARE COMING 2
THE LAMB WITH THE LONGEST TAIL 16
THEY HAD A GOOD SWIM 40
HAD A SORE MOUTH FROM JERKING ON THE LINES 77
FEEDING THE LAMBS 84
EVERY BROWN PIG RAN OFF 110
"I AM THE WHITE KITTEN" 130
THE GRAY GOOSE TRIED TO GO THROUGH 156
COLLIE AND THE BELL-WETHER 170
THE BIG GOBBLER CAME PUFFING TOWARD
HER. _Frontispiece_ 194
THE PEACOCK WAS STANDING ON THE FENCE, 208
THE RED CALF AND THE WHITE CALF 243
THE STORY THAT THE SWALLOW DIDN'T TELL
"Listen!" said the Nigh Ox, "don't you hear some friends coming?"
The Off Ox raised his head from the grass and stopped to brush away a
Fly, for you never could hurry either of the brothers. "I don't hear any
footfalls," said he.
"You should listen for wings, not feet," said the Nigh Ox, "and for
voices, too."
Even as he spoke there floated down from the clear air overhead a soft
"tittle-ittle-ittle-ee," as though some bird were laughing for
happiness. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the meadow was covered
with thousands and thousands of green grass blades, each so small and
tender, and yet together making a most beautiful carpet for the feet of
the farmyard people, and offering them sweet and juicy food after their
winter fare of hay and grain. Truly it was a day to make one laugh aloud
for joy. The alder tassels fluttered and danced in the spring breeze,
while the smallest and shyest of the willow pussies crept from their
little brown houses on the branches to grow in the sunshine.
[Illustration: THE SWALLOWS ARE COMING.]
"Tittle-ittle-ittle-ee! Tittle-ittle-ittle-ee!" And this time it was
louder and clearer than before.
"The Swallows!" cried the Oxen to each other. Then they straightened
their strong necks and bellowed to the Horses, who were drawing the plow
in the field beyond, "The Swallows are coming!"
As soon as the Horses reached the end of the furrow and could rest a
minute, they tossed their heads and whinnied with delight. Then they
looked around at the farmer, and wished that he knew enough of the
| 377.326058 | 1,789 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.0431120
| 1,081 | 414 |
Produced by sp1nd, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
MASTERPIECES
IN COLOUR
EDITED BY--
M. HENRY ROUJON
GOYA
(1746-1826)
_IN THE SAME SERIES_
REYNOLDS
VELASQUEZ
GREUZE
TURNER
BOTTICELLI
ROMNEY
REMBRANDT
BELLINI
FRA ANGELICO
ROSSETTI
RAPHAEL
LEIGHTON
HOLMAN HUNT
TITIAN
MILLAIS
LUINI
FRANZ HALS
CARLO DOLCI
GAINSBOROUGH
TINTORETTO
VAN DYCK
DA VINCI
WHISTLER
RUBENS
BOUCHER
HOLBEIN
BURNE-JONES
LE BRUN
CHARDIN
MILLET
RAEBURN
SARGENT
CONSTABLE
MEMLING
FRAGONARD
DUeRER
LAWRENCE
HOGARTH
WATTEAU
MURILLO
WATTS
INGRES
COROT
DELACROIX
FRA LIPPO LIPPI
PUVIS DE CHAVANNES
MEISSONIER
GEROME
VERONESE
VAN EYCK
FROMENTIN
MANTEGNA
PERUGINO
ROSA BONHEUR
BASTIEN-LEPAGE
GOYA
[Illustration: PLATE I.--FERDINAND GUILLEMARDET
(Museum of the Louvre)
This personage, who has left no record in history, was one of
those high functionaries, half civil and half military, whom the
First Republic sent to its armies to supervise the commissary
department and also to exercise an espionage over its generals.
Goya has given a vigorous rendering of a head that bears the
double stamp of energy and high breeding; and the prevailing
gray tone of this portrait, relieved only by the one dash of
brightness in the tricoloured scarf, forms altogether a work of
perfect harmony.]
GOYA
BY FR. CRASTRE
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH
BY FREDERIC TABER COOPER
ILLUSTRATED WITH EIGHT
REPRODUCTIONS IN COLOUR
[Illustration: IN SEMPITERNUM.]
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
NEW YORK--PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
March, 1914
THE. PLIMPTON. PRESS
NORWOOD. MASS. U. S. A
CONTENTS
Page
The Youth of Goya 21
The Glorious Period 48
The Closing Years 77
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Plate
I. Ferdinand Guillemardet Frontispiece
Museum of the Louvre
II. La Maja Clothed 14
Museum of the Prado, Madrid
III. The Woman with the Fan 24
Museum of the Louvre
IV. Portrait of Goya 34
Museum of the Prado, Madrid
V. The Duchess of Alba 40
Collection of the Duke of Alba, Madrid
VI. King Charles IV and his Family 50
Museum of the Prado, Madrid
VII. La Tirana 60
Museum of the Prado, Madrid
VIII. Josefa Bayeu 70
Museum of the Prado, Madrid
On a certain clear morning in the year 1760, a monk from the convent
of Santa Fe, near Saragossa, was proceeding leisurely along the road
which leads to that city, and reciting his breviary as he went.
Raising his eyes from between two psalms, he perceived a young lad of
some fifteen years of age deeply absorbed in drawing pictures with a
bit of charcoal on one of the walls which bounded the way. The monk
was a lover of the arts and had himself some little skill in drawing.
Becoming interested, he drew nearer, and was amazed at the aptitude
shown by the boy. Upon questioning him, he was much pleased with his
replies and was completely won by his engaging manners. Without
further reflection, he inquired the way to the home of the lad's
parents, poor peasants of the immediate neighbourhood
| 377.362522 | 1,790 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.2061290
| 1,130 | 459 |
Produced by eagkw, Robert Cicconetti 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.)
GREAT PORTER SQUARE:
A MYSTERY.
BY
B. L. FARJEON,
_Author of "Grif," "London's Heart," "The House of White
Shadows," etc._
_IN THREE VOLUMES._
VOLUME III.
LONDON:
WARD AND DOWNEY,
12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
1885.
[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
PRINTED BY
KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS
AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
XXXI.--Becky gives a description of an interview between
herself and Richard Manx 1
XXXII.--In which Becky narrates how Fanny became acquainted
with Mrs. Lydia Holdfast 15
XXXIII.--In which Becky narrates how Fanny became
acquainted with Mrs. Lydia Holdfast (concluded) 24
XXXIV.--Mr. Pelham makes his appearance once more 31
XXXV.--Fanny discovers who Richard Manx is 45
XXXVI.--Becky and Fanny on the watch 55
XXXVII.--No. 119 Great Porter Square is let to a new Tenant 71
XXXVIII.--The new Tenant takes possession of No. 119 Great
Porter Square 87
XXXIX.--Mrs. Holdfast insists on becoming an active partner 113
XL.--Mrs. Holdfast insists on becoming an active partner
(concluded) 118
XLI.--Frederick Holdfast makes the discovery 134
XLII.--Mr. Holdfast's Diary 147
XLIII.--Mr. Holdfast's Diary (concluded) 177
XLIV.--Caged 207
XLV.--Retribution 218
XLVI.--In which the "Evening Moon" gives a Sequel to its
"Romance in Real Life" 224
GREAT PORTER SQUARE: A MYSTERY.
CHAPTER XXXI.
BECKY GIVES A DESCRIPTION OF AN INTERVIEW BETWEEN HERSELF AND RICHARD
MANX.
MY DEAREST LOVE--How, did you like my little messenger, Fanny? Is she
not steady, and bright, and clever? When she woke this morning I had an
earnest conversation with her, and as far as was necessary I told her my
plans and that I wanted her faithful assistance. She cried for joy. The
few words she managed to get out convinced me that, child as she is,
I could not be better served by a grown-up person. Besides, I want a
child to assist me; a grown-up person might spoil my plans. In what way?
Patience, my dear, patience.
Mrs. Preedy noticed that I looked tired, and I told her that I had been
kept awake all the night with toothache. She expressed great sympathy
with me. It is wonderful the position I hold in the house; I am treated
more like a lady than a servant. That is because I have lent my mistress
forty pounds, and have agreed to pay for little Fanny's board and
lodging. Mrs. Preedy threw out a hint about taking me into partnership,
if I would invest my fancied legacy into the business.
"We could keep on this house," she said, "and take another on the other
side of the Square."
I said it was worth thinking about, but that, of course, I could do
nothing until I received the whole amount of the legacy which would be
in three weeks' time. So the matter rests; during these three weeks Mrs.
Preedy will be very gracious to me, I expect. She said this morning,
when I told her about my toothache,
"You had better lay down, my dear."
Actually! "My dear!"
I did lie down, and I had a good rest, so that my keeping up all night
did not hurt me. I feel now quite refreshed, although it is night, and
eleven o'clock. Mrs. Preedy, as usual, is out gossiping with Mrs. Beale,
and I am writing in the kitchen. When she comes home I shall continue my
letter in my bedroom. I have much to tell you. Things seem to move on
rapidly. I have no doubt that in a very short time something important
will come to light.
After sending Fanny to you this morning, I went up to our bedridden
lady-lodger, Mrs. Bailey. From her I obtained some significant news.
She had passed a bad night; the noise in the next house, as of some one
moving about in the room in which your father met his death, had "come
again," she said, and had continued for at least a couple of hours. She
declared that it did not sound like mice, and that she did not know
really what to think
| 377.525539 | 1,791 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.6802690
| 1,320 | 192 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Annie McGuire and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: AUGUSTUS SAINT-GAUDENS FROM THE PAINTING BY ELLEN EMMET
_Copyright, 1908, by Ellen Emmet_]
McCLURE'S MAGAZINE
VOL. XXXI JUNE, 1908 No. 2
MY FIRST APPEARANCE IN AMERICA
THE DECREE MADE ABSOLUTE
PRESIDENT JOHNSON AND HIS WAR ON CONGRESS
THE CRYSTAL-GAZER
BOB, DEBUTANT
TWO PORTRAITS BY GILBERT STUART
MARY BAKER G. EDDY
HER FRUITS
THE KEY TO THE DOOR
THE WAYFARERS
THE PROBLEMS OF SUICIDE
PRAIRIE DAWN
THE DOINGS OF THE DEVIL
YOUNG HENRY AND THE OLD MAN
EDITORIAL
* * * * *
Transcriber's Note: The Table of Contents was
added by the transcriber.
* * * * *
MY FIRST APPEARANCE IN AMERICA[1]
BY
ELLEN TERRY
The first time that there was any talk of my going to America was, I
think, in 1874, when I was playing in "The Wandering Heir." Dion
Boucicault wanted me to go, and dazzled me with figures, but I expect
the cautious Charles Reade influenced me against accepting the
engagement.
When I did go, in 1883, I was thirty-five and had an assured position in
my profession. It was the first of eight tours, seven of which I went
with Henry Irving. The last was in 1907, after his death. I also went to
America one summer on a pleasure trip. The tours lasted three months at
least, seven months at most. After a rough calculation, I find that I
have spent not quite five years of my life in America. Five out of sixty
is not a large proportion, yet I often feel that I am half American.
This says a good deal for the hospitality of a people who can make a
stranger feel so completely at home in their midst. Perhaps it also says
something for my adaptableness!
"When we do not speak of things with a partiality full of love, what we
say is not worth being repeated." That was the answer of a courteous
Frenchman, who was asked for his impressions of a country. In any case
it is almost imprudent to give one's impressions of America. The country
is so vast and complex that even those who have amassed mountains of
impressions soon find that there still are mountains more. I have lived
in New York, Boston, and Chicago for a month at a time, and have felt
that to know any of these great towns even superficially would take a
year. I have become acquainted with this and that class of Americans,
but I realize that there are thousands of other classes that remain
unknown.
[Illustration: _Copyrighted by Window & Grove From the collections of
Miss Frances Johnson and Mrs. Evelyn Smalley_
ELLEN TERRY OPHELIA, AND HENRIETTA MARIA, THREE PARTS WHICH SHE PLAYED
ON THE FIRST AMERICAN TOUR]
_The Unknown Dangers of America_
I set out in 1883 from Liverpool on board the "Britannic" with the fixed
conviction that I should never, never return. For six weeks before we
started the word America had only to be breathed to me, and I burst into
floods of tears! I was leaving my children, my bullfinch, my parrot, my
"aunt" Boo, whom I never expected to see again alive, just because she
said I never would, and I was going to face the unknown dangers of the
Atlantic and of a strange, barbarous land. Our farewell performances in
London had cheered me up a little--though I wept copiously at every
one--by showing us that we should be missed. Henry Irving's position
seemed to be confirmed and ratified by all that took place before his
departure. The dinners he had to eat, the speeches he had to make and to
listen to, were really terrific! One speech at the Rabelais Club had, it
was said, the longest peroration on record. It was this kind of thing:
"Where is our friend Irving going? He is not going like Nares to face
the perils of the far North. He is not going like A---- to face
something else. He is not going to China," etc.--and so on. After about
the hundredth "he is not going," Lord Houghton, who was one of the
guests, grew very impatient and interrupted the orator with: "Of course
he isn't! He's going to New York by the Cunard Line. It'll take him
about a week!"
_New York Before the "Sky-scrapers"_
My first voyage was a voyage of enchantment to me. The ship was laden
with pig-iron, but she rolled and rolled and rolled. She could never
roll too much for me. I have always been a splendid sailor, and I feel
jolly at sea. The sudden leap from home into the wilderness of waves
does not give me any sensation of melancholy.
What I thought I was going to see when I arrived in America, I hardly
remember. I had a vague idea that all American women wore red flannel
shirts and bowie knives and that I might be sandbagged in the street!
From somewhere or other I had derived an impression that New York was an
ugly, noisy place.
Ugly! When I first saw that marvellous harbour I nearly cried--it was so
beautiful. Whenever I come now to the unequalled approach to New York I
wonder what Americans must think of the approach from the sea to London.
How different are the mean
| 377.999679 | 1,792 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.7619860
| 1,023 | 377 |
Produced by Mary Wampler, Juliet Sutherland, Charles
Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.
ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD
Or
The Captives of the Great Earthquake
BY ROY ROCKWOOD
Other titles by ROY ROCKWOOD
THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES
THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE
UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE
FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND
THROUGH SPACE TO MARS
LOST ON THE MOON
ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD
DAVE DASHAWAY, THE YOUNG AVIATOR
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDROPLANE
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP
DAVE DASHAWAY AROUND THE WORLD
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTOR CYCLES
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR POWER LAUNCH
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS IN A SUBMARINE
CONTENTS
I. SHOT INTO THE AIR!
II. MARK HANGS ON
III. THIS FLIGHT OF THE "SNOWBIRD"
IV. "WHO GOES THERE?"
V. BETWEEN TWO PERILS
VI. ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND
VII. DROPPED FROM THE SKY
VIII. PHINEAS ROEBACH, OIL HUNTER
IX. THE EARTHQUAKE
X. THE BLACK DAY
XI. THE WONDERFUL LEAP
XII. THE GEYSER
XIII. NATURE GONE MAD
XIV. ON THE WING AGAIN
XV. A PLUNGE TO THE ICE
XVI. PROFESSOR HENDERSON REVEALS THE TRUTH
XVII. ON AN ISLAND IN THE AIR
XVIII. IMPRISONED IN THE ICE
XIX. A NIGHT ATTACK
XX. THE HEROISM OF THE SHANGHAI ROOSTER
XXI. MARK ON GUARD
XXII. THE WOLF TRAIL
XXIII. THE FIGHT AT ALEUKAN
XXIV. THE FLIGHT TOWARD THE COAST
XXV. THE HERD of KADIAKS
XXVI. THE ABANDONED CITY
XXVII. THE WHALE HUNT ASHORE
XXVIII. ON THE WHALING BARK
XXIX. WHEN THE SEA ROLLED BACK
XXX. AN ENDURING MONUMENT--CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
SHOT INTO THE AIR
"Hurrah!" shouted Jack Darrow, flicking the final drops of lacquer
from the paintbrush he had been using. "That's the last stroke. She's
finished!"
"I guess we've done all we can to her before her trial trip," admitted
his chum, Mark Sampson, but in a less confident tone.
"You don't see anything wrong with her, old croaker; do you?" demanded
Jack, laughing as usual.
"'The proof of the pudding is in the eating thereof; not in chewing
the pudding bag string'," quoted Mark, still with a serious countenance.
But like Jack he stood off from the great body of the wonderful airship,
and looked the completed task over with some satisfaction. Having
emergency wings, she was also a plane. She was white all over and her
name was the _Snowbird_. Jack and Mark had spent most of their time
during this vacation from their college in building this flying machine,
which was veritably an up-to-the-minute aerial vehicle, built for both
speed and carrying capacity.
The hangar in which the machine had been built was connected with
Professor Amos Henderson's laboratory and workshop, hidden away on a
lonely point on the seacoast, about ten miles from the town of Easton,
Maine. At this spot had been built many wonderful things--mainly the
inventions of the boys' friend and protector, Professor Henderson; but
the _Snowbird_, upon which Jack and Mark now gazed so proudly, was
altogether the boys' own work.
The sliding door of the hangar opened just behind the two boys and a
black face appeared.
"Is eeder ob you boys seen ma Shanghai rooster?" queried the black
man, plaintively. "I suah can't fin' him nowhars."
"What did you let him out of his coop for?" demanded Mark. "You're
always bothering us about that rooster, Washington. He is as elusive
as the Fourth Dimension."
"I dunno wot dat fourth condension is, Massa Mark; but dat rooster is
su
| 378.081396 | 1,793 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.8485110
| 2,374 | 120 |
Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The
Internet Archive.
Transcriber's notes:
1. This book is derived from the Web Archive,
http://www.archive.org/details/trumpeterskking00schegoog.
2. The oe diphthong is represented by [oe].
THE TRUMPETER OF SAeKKINGEN.
THE
THE TRUMPETER OF SAeKKINGEN
A Song from the Upper Rhine.
BY
JOSEPH VICTOR VON SCHEFFEL.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY
MRS. FRANCIS BRUeNNOW.
_Translation authorised by the Poet._
London:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.
NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, & CO.
1877.
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS.
CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
O Song, at home well known to fame,
That German hearts hath deeply stirred
And long hath made of Scheffel's name
A dear and honoured household word,
Go forth in thy first foreign dress,
Go forth to Albion's noble land!
Will she not greetings kind express,
And warmly clasp the stranger's hand?
The Emerald Isle will surely give
A welcome neither cold nor faint;
For on thy pages still doth live
The name of Erin's ancient Saint.
Across the sea my country's shores
As Hope's bright star before me rise;
Will she not open wide her doors
To one who on her heart relies?
Farewell, oh work of vanished hours;
When suffering rent my weary heart,
Thy breath of fragrant woodland flowers
Did life renew, fresh strength impart.
Oh Scheffel! may thy years be long!
And may'st thou live to see the time,
When this thy genial Schwarzwald song
Will find a home in every clime.
_Basel_, _June_, 1877.
CONTENTS.
DEDICATION
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION
PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION
PREFACE TO THE FIFTIETH EDITION
FIRST PART.
HOW YOUNG WERNER RODE INTO THE SCHWARZWALD
SECOND PART.
YOUNG WERNER WITH THE SCHWARZWALD PASTOR
THIRD PART.
ST. FRIDOLIN'S DAY
FOURTH PART.
YOUNG WERNER'S ADVENTURES ON THE RHINE
FIFTH PART.
THE BARON AND HIS DAUGHTER
SIXTH PART.
HOW YOUNG WERNER BECAME THE BARON'S TRUMPETER
SEVENTH PART.
THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE
EIGHTH PART.
THE CONCERT IN THE GARDEN PAVILION
NINTH PART.
TEACHING AND LEARNING
TENTH PART.
YOUNG WERNER IN THE GNOME'S CAVE
ELEVENTH PART.
THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT
TWELFTH PART.
YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA
THIRTEENTH PART.
WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA
FOURTEENTH PART.
THE BOOK OF SONGS
YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS
SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI
SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN
SOME OF MARGARETTA'S SONGS
WERNER'S SONGS. FIVE YEARS LATER
FIFTEENTH PART.
THE MEETING IN ROME
SIXTEENTH PART.
SOLUTION AND END
NOTES.
DEDICATION.
"Who is yonder light-haired stranger
Who there like a cat is roaming
O'er the roof of Don Pagano?"--
Thus asked many honest burghers,
Dwellers on the Isle of Capri,
When they from the market turning
Looked up at the palm-tree and the
Low-arched roof of moorish fashion.
And the worthy Don Pagano
Said: "That is a strange queer fellow,
And most strange his occupation.
Came here with but little luggage,
Lives here quite alone but happy,
Clambers up the steepest mountains,
Over cliffs, through surf is strolling,
Loves to steal along the sea-shore.
Also lately'mid the ruins
Of the villa of Tiberius
With the hermits there caroused.
What's his business?--He's a German,
And who knows what they are doing?
But I saw upon his table
Heaps of paper written over,
Leaving very wasteful margins;
I believe he is half crazy,
I believe he's making verses."
Thus he spoke.--And I myself was
This queer stranger. Solitary
I had on this rocky island
Sung this song of my dear Schwarzwald.
I went as a wand'ring scholar
To far countries, to Italia;
With much art became acquainted,
Also with bad vetturinos,
And with many burning flea-bites;
But the sweet fruit of the lotus,
Which doth banish love of country
And the longing to return there,
I have never found here growing.
'Twas in Rome. Hard lay the winter
On th' eternal sev'n-hilled city:
Hard? for even Marcus Brutus
Would have caught a bad catarrh then;
And the rain seemed never-ending.
Like a dream then rose the vision
Of the Schwarzwald, and the story
Of the young musician Werner
And the lovely Margaretta.
In my youth I have stood often
By their graves close to the Rhine shore;
Many things which lie there buried
Are, however, long forgotten.
But like one to whom a sudden
Ringing in his ears betokens
That at home of him they're thinking,
So I heard young Werner's trumpet
Through the Roman Winter, through the
Carnival's gay flower-show--
Heard it from afar, then nearer,
Like the crystal which of vap'rous
Fine materials is condensing
And increases radiating;
So the figures of this song grew--
Even followed me to Naples.
In the halls of the Museum
Who should meet me but the Baron
Shaking his big cane and smiling,
And before Pompeii's gate sat
The black tom-cat Hiddigeigei.
Purring, quoth he: "Leave all study;
What is all this ancient rubbish,
E'en that dog there in mosaic
In the tragic Poet's dwelling,
In comparison with me--the
Epic type of all cat-nature?"
This I could no longer stand, so
Now began this ghost to banish.
From the brother of the lovely
Luisella, from the crooked
Cunning druggist of Sorrento
Quantities of ink I ordered,
And sailed o'er the bay to Capri.
Here began my exorcisms.
Many pale-gold sea-fish,
Many lobsters, many oysters,
I ate up without compassion;
Drank the red wine like Tiberius,
Without mercy poetising;
On the roof went up and down till
All resounded metrically,
And the charm was then accomplished:
Chained up in four-measured trochees
Lay those figures which so long now
From my couch sweet sleep had banished.
'Twas high time, too; Spring already
Now gave signal of his coming--
Buds were sprouting on the fig-trees;
Shots were cracking, for with guns and
Nets they were the quails pursuing,
Who towards home their flight were taking;
And the minstrel was in peril
Then of seeing feathered colleagues
Set upon the table roasted.
This dread o'er him, pen and inkstand
Flew against the wall together.
Ready now and newly soled were
My strong boots which old Vesuvius
Had much damaged with his sulphur.
Farther now I journey onward.
Up, my good old Marinaro!
Off from land! the waves with pleasure
Bear light hearts and weightless freightage.
But the song, which with such happy
Spring-born feelings from my heart welled,
Bears my greetings to my country
And to you, my honoured parents.
Many faults are in it, truly:
Tragic pathos may be wanting,
And a racy tendance; also,
As in Amaranth, the fragrant
Incense of a pious soul, its
Sober but pretentious colouring.
Take him, as he is, this ruddy.
Rough, uncouth son of the mountains,
With a pine branch on his straw hat.
What he's wanting in, pray, cover
With the veil of kind indulgence.
Take him not as thanks, for always
In your Book of Love I'm debtor,
But as greeting and as witness,
That a man whom worldly fortune
Has not placed'mid smiling verdure,
Yet can, happy as a lark pour
Out his song on leafless branches.
Capri, _May 1st_, 1853.
PREFACE
TO THE SECOND EDITION.
Five years, my merry song, have now rolled by
Since thou didst venture thy first course to run,
A simple strolling minstrel's chance to try,
But no great laurels so far hast thou won.
In circles of prosaic breathing mortals
No praise was given thee of any kind--
Where formal stiffness bars life's glowing portals,
Thou and thy kindred can no quarter find.
And in the coteries of hoops and laces
Few were the readers, fewer still the praises.
Not everything suits everyone: the hill
Grows different flowers than the vale and lea:
But here and there in German homes there will
Be found some hearts who fondly turn to thee;
Where merry fellows are their wine enjoying
With cheerful songs, thy praises will resound;
Near landscape-painters' easels thou art lying,
And in a huntsman's bag thou oft art found,
And e'en of pastors it has been reported
To thee as to their prayer-books they've resorted.
And many who have taken a young bride
To spend the honeymoon'midst rural
| 378.167921 | 1,794 |
2023-11-16 18:22:04.8964890
| 4,086 | 47 |
Produced by Eve Sobol and Distributed Proofreaders
GETTING MARRIED
Preface To "Getting Married"
By Bernard Shaw
1908
Transcriber's Note -- The edition from which this play was taken was
printed without most contractions, such as dont for don't and so forth.
These have been left as printed in the original text. Also, abbreviated
honorifics have no trailing period, and the word show is spelt shew.
PREFACE TO GETTING MARRIED
THE REVOLT AGAINST MARRIAGE
There is no subject on which more dangerous nonsense is talked and
thought than marriage. If the mischief stopped at talking and thinking
it would be bad enough; but it goes further, into disastrous anarchical
action. Because our marriage law is inhuman and unreasonable to the
point of downright abomination, the bolder and more rebellious spirits
form illicit unions, defiantly sending cards round to their friends
announcing what they have done. Young women come to me and ask me
whether I think they ought to consent to marry the man they have decided
to live with; and they are perplexed and astonished when I, who am
supposed (heaven knows why!) to have the most advanced views attainable
on the subject, urge them on no account to compromize themselves without
the security of an authentic wedding ring. They cite the example of
George Eliot, who formed an illicit union with Lewes. They quote
a saying attributed to Nietzsche, that a married philosopher is
ridiculous, though the men of their choice are not philosophers. When
they finally give up the idea of reforming our marriage institutions by
private enterprise and personal righteousness, and consent to be led to
the Registry or even to the altar, they insist on first arriving at an
explicit understanding that both parties are to be perfectly free to sip
every flower and change every hour, as their fancy may dictate, in
spite of the legal bond. I do not observe that their unions prove
less monogamic than other people's: rather the contrary, in fact;
consequently, I do not know whether they make less fuss than ordinary
people when either party claims the benefit of the treaty; but the
existence of the treaty shews the same anarchical notion that the law
can be set aside by any two private persons by the simple process of
promising one another to ignore it.
MARRIAGE NEVERTHELESS INEVITABLE
Now most laws are, and all laws ought to be, stronger than the
strongest individual. Certainly the marriage law is. The only people
who successfully evade it are those who actually avail themselves of its
shelter by pretending to be married when they are not, and by Bohemians
who have no position to lose and no career to be closed. In every other
case open violation of the marriage laws means either downright ruin or
such inconvenience and disablement as a prudent man or woman would get
married ten times over rather than face. And these disablements and
inconveniences are not even the price of freedom; for, as Brieux has
shewn so convincingly in Les Hannetons, an avowedly illicit union is
often found in practice to be as tyrannical and as hard to escape from
as the worst legal one.
We may take it then that when a joint domestic establishment, involving
questions of children or property, is contemplated, marriage is in
effect compulsory upon all normal people; and until the law is altered
there is nothing for us but to make the best of it as it stands. Even
when no such establishment is desired, clandestine irregularities are
negligible as an alternative to marriage. How common they are nobody
knows; for in spite of the powerful protection afforded to the parties
by the law of libel, and the readiness of society on various other
grounds to be hoodwinked by the keeping up of the very thinnest
appearances, most of them are probably never suspected. But they are
neither dignified nor safe and comfortable, which at once rules them out
for normal decent people. Marriage remains practically inevitable; and
the sooner we acknowledge this, the sooner we shall set to work to make
it decent and reasonable.
WHAT DOES THE WORD MARRIAGE MEAN
However much we may all suffer through marriage, most of us think
so little about it that we regard it as a fixed part of the order of
nature, like gravitation. Except for this error, which may be regarded
as constant, we use the word with reckless looseness, meaning a dozen
different things by it, and yet always assuming that to a respectable
man it can have only one meaning. The pious citizen, suspecting the
Socialist (for example) of unmentionable things, and asking him heatedly
whether he wishes to abolish marriage, is infuriated by a sense of
unanswerable quibbling when the Socialist asks him what particular
variety of marriage he means: English civil marriage, sacramental
marriage, indissoluble Roman Catholic marriage, marriage of divorced
persons, Scotch marriage, Irish marriage, French, German, Turkish, or
South Dakotan marriage. In Sweden, one of the most highly civilized
countries in the world, a marriage is dissolved if both parties wish it,
without any question of conduct. That is what marriage means in Sweden.
In Clapham that is what they call by the senseless name of Free Love.
In the British Empire we have unlimited Kulin polygamy, Muslim polygamy
limited to four wives, child marriages, and, nearer home, marriages
of first cousins: all of them abominations in the eyes of many worthy
persons. Not only may the respectable British champion of marriage mean
any of these widely different institutions; sometimes he does not
mean marriage at all. He means monogamy, chastity, temperance,
respectability, morality, Christianity, anti-socialism, and a dozen
other things that have no necessary connection with marriage. He often
means something that he dare not avow: ownership of the person of
another human being, for instance. And he never tells the truth about
his own marriage either to himself or any one else.
With those individualists who in the mid-XIXth century dreamt of doing
away with marriage altogether on the ground that it is a private concern
between the two parties with which society has nothing to do, there
is now no need to deal. The vogue of "the self-regarding action" has
passed; and it may be assumed without argument that unions for the
purpose of establishing a family will continue to be registered and
regulated by the State. Such registration is marriage, and will continue
to be called marriage long after the conditions of the registration
have changed so much that no citizen now living would recognize them as
marriage conditions at all if he revisited the earth. There is therefore
no question of abolishing marriage; but there is a very pressing
question of improving its conditions. I have never met anybody really
in favor of maintaining marriage as it exists in England to-day. A Roman
Catholic may obey his Church by assenting verbally to the doctrine of
indissoluble marriage. But nobody worth counting believes directly,
frankly, and instinctively that when a person commits a murder and is
put into prison for twenty years for it, the free and innocent husband
or wife of that murderer should remain bound by the marriage. To put it
briefly, a contract for better for worse is a contract that should not
be tolerated. As a matter of fact it is not tolerated fully even by the
Roman Catholic Church; for Roman Catholic marriages can be dissolved,
if not by the temporal Courts, by the Pope. Indissoluble marriage is an
academic figment, advocated only by celibates and by comfortably married
people who imagine that if other couples are uncomfortable it must be
their own fault, just as rich people are apt to imagine that if other
people are poor it serves them right. There is always some means of
dissolution. The conditions of dissolution may vary widely, from those
on which Henry VIII. procured his divorce from Katharine of Arragon to
the pleas on which American wives obtain divorces (for instance, "mental
anguish" caused by the husband's neglect to cut his toenails); but
there is always some point at which the theory of the inviolable
better-for-worse marriage breaks down in practice. South Carolina has
indeed passed what is called a freak law declaring that a marriage shall
not be dissolved under any circumstances; but such an absurdity will
probably be repealed or amended by sheer force of circumstances before
these words are in print. The only question to be considered is, What
shall the conditions of the dissolution be?
SURVIVALS OF SEX SLAVERY
If we adopt the common romantic assumption that the object of marriage
is bliss, then the very strongest reason for dissolving a marriage is
that it shall be disagreeable to one or other or both of the parties.
If we accept the view that the object of marriage is to provide for
the production and rearing of children, then childlessness should be a
conclusive reason for dissolution. As neither of these causes entitles
married persons to divorce it is at once clear that our marriage law is
not founded on either assumption. What it is really founded on is the
morality of the tenth commandment, which English women will one day
succeed in obliterating from the walls of our churches by refusing to
enter any building where they are publicly classed with a man's house,
his ox, and his ass, as his purchased chattels. In this morality female
adultery is malversation by the woman and theft by the man, whilst male
adultery with an unmarried woman is not an offence at all. But though
this is not only the theory of our marriage laws, but the practical
morality of many of us, it is no longer an avowed morality, nor does
its persistence depend on marriage; for the abolition of marriage would,
other things remaining unchanged, leave women more effectually enslaved
than they now are. We shall come to the question of the economic
dependence of women on men later on; but at present we had better
confine ourselves to the theories of marriage which we are not ashamed
to acknowledge and defend, and upon which, therefore, marriage reformers
will be obliged to proceed.
We may, I think, dismiss from the field of practical politics the
extreme sacerdotal view of marriage as a sacred and indissoluble
covenant, because though reinforced by unhappy marriages as all
fanaticisms are reinforced by human sacrifices, it has been reduced to
a private and socially inoperative eccentricity by the introduction of
civil marriage and divorce. Theoretically, our civilly married couples
are to a Catholic as unmarried couples are: that is, they are living in
open sin. Practically, civilly married couples are received in society,
by Catholics and everyone else, precisely as sacramentally married
couples are; and so are people who have divorced their wives or husbands
and married again. And yet marriage is enforced by public opinion with
such ferocity that the least suggestion of laxity in its support is
fatal to even the highest and strongest reputations, although laxity
of conduct is winked at with grinning indulgence; so that we find the
austere Shelley denounced as a fiend in human form, whilst Nelson, who
openly left his wife and formed a menage a trois with Sir William and
Lady Hamilton, was idolized. Shelley might have had an illegitimate
child in every county in England if he had done so frankly as a
sinner. His unpardonable offence was that he attacked marriage as an
institution. We feel a strange anguish of terror and hatred against
him, as against one who threatens us with a mortal injury. What is the
element in his proposals that produces this effect?
The answer of the specialists is the one already alluded to: that
the attack on marriage is an attack on property; so that Shelley was
something more hateful to a husband than a horse thief: to wit, a wife
thief, and something more hateful to a wife than a burglar: namely, one
who would steal her husband's house from over her head, and leave her
destitute and nameless on the streets. Now, no doubt this accounts for
a good deal of anti-Shelleyan prejudice: a prejudice so deeply rooted
in our habits that, as I have shewn in my play, men who are bolder
freethinkers than Shelley himself can no more bring themselves to commit
adultery than to commit any common theft, whilst women who loathe sex
slavery more fiercely than Mary Wollstonecraft are unable to face the
insecurity and discredit of the vagabondage which is the masterless
woman's only alternative to celibacy. But in spite of all this there
is a revolt against marriage which has spread so rapidly within my
recollection that though we all still assume the existence of a huge and
dangerous majority which regards the least hint of scepticism as to the
beauty and holiness of marriage as infamous and abhorrent, I sometimes
wonder why it is so difficult to find an authentic living member of this
dreaded army of convention outside the ranks of the people who never
think about public questions at all, and who, for all their numerical
weight and apparently invincible prejudices, accept social changes
to-day as tamely as their forefathers accepted the Reformation under
Henry and Edward, the Restoration under Mary, and, after Mary's death,
the shandygaff which Elizabeth compounded from both doctrines and called
the Articles of the Church of England. If matters were left to these
simple folk, there would never be any changes at all; and society would
perish like a snake that could not cast its skins. Nevertheless the
snake does change its skin in spite of them; and there are signs that
our marriage-law skin is causing discomfort to thoughtful people and
will presently be cast whether the others are satisfied with it or not.
The question therefore arises: What is there in marriage that makes the
thoughtful people so uncomfortable?
A NEW ATTACK ON MARRIAGE
The answer to this question is an answer which everybody knows and
nobody likes to give. What is driving our ministers of religion and
statesmen to blurt it out at last is the plain fact that marriage is now
beginning to depopulate the country with such alarming rapidity that we
are forced to throw aside our modesty like people who, awakened by an
alarm of fire, rush into the streets in their nightdresses or in no
dresses at all. The fictitious Free Lover, who was supposed to attack
marriage because it thwarted his inordinate affections and prevented him
from making life a carnival, has vanished and given place to the very
real, very strong, very austere avenger of outraged decency who declares
that the licentiousness of marriage, now that it no longer recruits the
race, is destroying it.
As usual, this change of front has not yet been noticed by our newspaper
controversialists and by the suburban season-ticket holders whose minds
the newspapers make. They still defend the citadel on the side on which
nobody is attacking it, and leave its weakest front undefended.
The religious revolt against marriage is a very old one. Christianity
began with a fierce attack on marriage; and to this day the celibacy
of the Roman Catholic priesthood is a standing protest against its
compatibility with the higher life. St. Paul's reluctant sanction of
marriage; his personal protest that he countenanced it of necessity and
against his own conviction; his contemptuous "better to marry than to
burn" is only out of date in respect of his belief that the end of the
world was at hand and that there was therefore no longer any population
question. His instinctive recoil from its worst aspect as a slavery to
pleasure which induces two people to accept slavery to one another has
remained an active force in the world to this day, and is now stirring
more uneasily than ever. We have more and more Pauline celibates whose
objection to marriage is the intolerable indignity of being supposed
to desire or live the married life as ordinarily conceived. Every
thoughtful and observant minister of religion is troubled by the
determination of his flock to regard marriage as a sanctuary for
pleasure, seeing as he does that the known libertines of his parish are
visibly suffering much less from intemperance than many of the married
people who stigmatize them as monsters of vice.
A FORGOTTEN CONFERENCE OF MARRIED MEN
The late Hugh Price Hughes, an eminent Methodist divine, once organized
in London a conference of respectable men to consider the subject.
Nothing came of it (nor indeed could have come of it in the absence of
women); but it had its value as giving the young sociologists present,
of whom I was one, an authentic notion of what a picked audience
of respectable men understood by married life. It was certainly a
staggering revelation. Peter the Great would have been shocked; Byron
would have been horrified; Don Juan would have fled from the conference
into a monastery. The respectable men all regarded the marriage ceremony
as a rite which absolved them from the laws of health and temperance;
inaugurated a life-long honeymoon; and placed their pleasures on exactly
the same footing as their prayers. It seemed entirely proper and natural
to them that out of every twenty-four hours of their lives they should
pass eight shut up in one room with their wives alone, and this, not
birdlike, for the mating season, but all the year round and every year.
How they settled even such minor questions as to which party should
decide whether and how much the window should be open and how many
blankets should be on the bed, and at what hour they should go to
bed and get up so as to avoid disturbing one another's sleep, seemed
insoluble questions to me. But the members of the conference did not
seem to mind. They were content to have the whole national housing
problem treated on a basis of one room for two people. That was the
essence of marriage for them.
Please remember, too, that there was nothing in their circumstances to
check intemperance. They were men of business: that is, men for the most
part engaged in routine work which exercized neither their minds nor
their bodies to the full pitch of their capacities. Compared with
statesmen, first-rate professional men, artists, and even with laborers
and artisans as far as muscular exertion goes, they were underworked,
and could spare the fine edge of their faculties and the last few inches
of their chests without being any the less fit for their daily routine.
If I had adopted their habits, a startling deterioration would have
appeared in my writing before the end of a fortnight, and frightened me
back to what they would have considered an impossible asceticism
| 378.215899 | 1,795 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.1531420
| 238 | 14 |
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)
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
The carat character (^) indicates that the following letter
is superscripted (example: N^o.). If two or more letters are
superscripted they are enclosed in curly brackets (example: S^{re}).
* * * * *
PROOFS
OF A
CONSPIRACY
AGAINST ALL THE
_RELIGIONS AND GOVERNMENTS_
OF
EUROPE,
CARRIED ON
IN THE SECRET MEETINGS
OF
_FREE MASONS_, _ILLUMINATI,_
AND
_READING SOCIETIES_.
COLLECTED FROM GOOD AUTHORITIES,
By JOHN ROBISON, A. M.
PROFESSOR OF NATURAL
| 378.472552 | 1,796 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.5874400
| 1,314 | 137 |
CULTIVATION OF THE POTATO; AND HOW TO COOK THE POTATO***
E-text prepared by Steven Giacomelli, Jeannie Howse, Irma Spehar, Janet
Blenkinship, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading
Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
Core Historical Literature of Agriculture (CHLA), Albert R. Mann Library,
Cornell University (http://chla.library.cornell.edu/)
http://chla.library.cornell.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=chla;idno=2923510
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed between tilde characters was in bold face in
the original (~bold face~).
[oe] represents the oe-ligature.
THE $100. PRIZE ESSAY ON THE CULTIVATION OF THE POTATO.
Prize offered by W. T. WYLIE and awarded to D. H. COMPTON.
HOW TO COOK THE POTATO,
_Furnished by Prof. BLOT._
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED. PRICE, 25 CENTS.
New-York:
ORANGE JUDD CO.,
No. 751 BROADWAY.
PRIZE ESSAY ON THE POTATO AND ITS CULTIVATION.
$100.
In the fall of 1868, I offered $100 as a prize for the best Essay on the
Cultivation of the Potato, under conditions then published; the prize to
be awarded by a committee composed of the following gentlemen, well
known in agricultural circles:
Colonel MASON C. WELD, Associate Editor of _American Agriculturist_.
A. S. FULLER, ESQ., of Ridgewood, N. J., the popular author of several
horticultural works, and Associate Editor of the _Hearth and Home_.
Dr. F. M. HEXAMER, who has made the cultivation of the potato a special
study.
In the month of January, 1870, the committee awarded the prize to D. A.
Compton; and this Essay is herewith submitted to the public in the hope
of stimulating a more intelligent and successful cultivation of the
Potato.
BELLEFONTE, PA., January, 1870.
W. T. WYLIE.
OFFICE OF THE AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST,
NEW-YORK, January, 1870.
REV. W. T. WYLIE: DEAR SIR: The essays submitted to us by Mr.
Bliss, according to your announcement, numbered about twenty.
Several could not be called essays from their brevity, and others
were exceedingly incomplete. About twelve, however, required and
were worthy of careful consideration. That of Mr. D. A. Compton, of
Hawley, Wayne County, Pa., was, in the opinion of your committee,
decidedly superior to the others as a practical treatise, sure to
be of use to potato-growers in every part of the country, and well
worthy the liberal prize offered by yourself.
In behalf of the committee, sincerely yours,
MASON C. WELD, _Chairman_.
POTATO CULTURE.
BY D. A. COMPTON, HAWLEY, PENNSYLVANIA.
The design of this little treatise is to present, with minuteness of
detail, that mode of culture which experience and observation have
proved to be best adapted to the production of the Potato crop.
It is written by one who himself holds the plow, and who has, since his
early youth, been engaged in agriculture in its various branches, to the
exclusion of other pursuits.
The statements which appear in the following pages are based upon actual
personal experience, and are the results of many experiments made to
test as many theories.
Throughout the Northern States of our country the potato is the third
of the three staple articles of food. It is held in such universal
esteem as to be regarded as nearly indispensable. This fact is
sufficient to render a thorough knowledge of the best varieties for use,
the character of soil best adapted to their growth, their cultivation
and after-care, matters of the highest importance to the farmers of the
United States.
The main object of this essay is so to instruct the novice in
potato-growing that he may be enabled to go to work understandingly and
produce the potato in its highest perfection, and realize from his
labors bestowed on the crop the greatest possible profits.
SOIL REQUIRED--ITS PREPARATION.
The potato is most profitably grown in a warm, dry, sandy, or gravelly
loam, well filled with decayed vegetable matters. The famous potato
lands of Lake County, Ohio, from which such vast quantities of potatoes
are shipped yearly, are yellow sand. This potato district is confined to
ridges running parallel with Lake Erie, which, according to geological
indications, have each at different periods defined its boundaries. This
sand owes much of its potato-growing qualities to the sedimentary
deposit of the lake and to manural properties furnished by the
decomposition of the shells of water-snails, shell-fish, etc., that
inhabited the waters.
New lands, or lands recently denuded of the forest, if sufficiently dry,
produce tubers of the most excellent quality. Grown on dry, new land,
the potato always cooks dry and mealy, and possesses an agreeable flavor
and aroma, not to be attained in older soils. In no argillaceous soil
can the potato be grown to perfection as regards quality. Large crops
on such soil may be obtained in favorable seasons, but the tubers are
invariably coarse-fleshed and ill-flavored. To produce roots of the best
quality, the ground must be dry, deep, and porous; and it should be
remembered that, to obtain very large crops, it is almost impossible to
get too much humus in the soil. Humus is usually added to arable land
either by plowing under green crops, such as clover, buckwheat, peas,
etc., or by drawing
| 378.90685 | 1,797 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.6713260
| 1,072 | 398 |
Produced by Amy E. Zelmer
WILLIAM HARVEY AND THE DISCOVERY OF THE CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD
By Thomas H. Huxley
[1]
I DESIRE this evening to give you some account of the life and labours
of a very noble Englishman--William Harvey.
William Harvey was born in the year 1578, and as he lived until the year
1657, he very nearly attained the age of 80. He was the son of a small
landowner in Kent, who was sufficiently wealthy to send this, his eldest
son, to the University of Cambridge; while he embarked the others in
mercantile pursuits, in which they all, as time passed on, attained
riches.
William Harvey, after pursuing his education at Cambridge, and taking
his degree there, thought it was advisable--and justly thought so, in
the then state of University education--to proceed to Italy, which
at that time was one of the great centres of intellectual activity in
Europe, as all friends of freedom hope it will become again, sooner or
later. In those days the University of Padua had a great renown;
and Harvey went there and studied under a man who was then very
famous--Fabricius of Aquapendente. On his return to England, Harvey
became a member of the College of Physicians in London, and entered into
practice; and, I suppose, as an indispensable step thereto, proceeded
to marry. He very soon became one of the most eminent members of the
profession in London; and, about the year 1616, he was elected by the
College of Physicians their Professor of Anatomy. It was while Harvey
held this office that he made public that great discovery of the
circulation of the blood and the movements of the heart, the nature of
which I shall endeavour by-and-by to explain to you at length. Shortly
afterwards, Charles the First having succeeded to the throne in 1625,
Harvey became one of the king's physicians; and it is much to the credit
of the unfortunate monarch--who, whatever his faults may have been,
was one of the few English monarchs who have shown a taste for art and
science--that Harvey became his attached and devoted friend as well
as servant; and that the king, on the other hand, did all he could to
advance Harvey's investigations. But, as you know, evil times came on;
and Harvey, after the fortunes of his royal master were broken,
being then a man of somewhat advanced years--over 60 years of age, in
fact--retired to the society of his brothers in and near London, and
among them pursued his studies until the day of his death. Harvey's
career is a life which offers no salient points of interest to the
biographer. It was a life devoted to study and investigation; and it
was a life the devotion of which was amply rewarded, as I shall have
occasion to point out to you, by its results.
Harvey, by the diversity, the variety, and the thoroughness of his
investigations, was enabled to give an entirely new direction to at
least two branches--and two of the most important branches--of what
now-a-days we call Biological Science. On the one hand, he founded
all our modern physiology by the discovery of the exact nature of the
motions of the heart, and of the course in which the blood is propelled
through the body; and, on the other, he laid the foundation of that
study of development which has been so much advanced of late years, and
which constitutes one of the great pillars of the doctrine of evolution.
This doctrine, I need hardly tell you, is now tending to revolutionise
our conceptions of the origin of living things, exactly in the same
way as Harvey's discovery of the circulation in the seventeeth century
revolutionised the conceptions which men had previously entertained with
regard to physiological processes.
It would, I regret, be quite impossible for me to attempt, in the course
of the time I can presume to hold you here, to unfold the history of
more than one of these great investigations of Harvey. I call them
"great investigations," as distinguished from "large publications." I
have in my hand a little book, which those of you who are at a great
distance may have some difficulty in seeing, and which I value very
much. It is, I am afraid, sadly thumbed and scratched with annotations
by a very humble successor and follower of Harvey. This little book is
the edition of 1651 of the 'Exercitationes de Generatione'; and if you
were to add another little book, printed in the same small type, and
about one-seventh of the thickness, you would have the sum total of the
printed matter which Harvey contributed to our literature. And yet
in that sum total was contained, I may say, the materials of two
revolutions in as many of the main branches of biological science. If
Harvey
| 378.990736 | 1,798 |
2023-11-16 18:22:05.7784960
| 394 | 89 |
Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, David Garcia and Distributed Proofreaders
THE BAY STATE MONTHLY
A Massachusetts Magazine
of
LITERATURE, HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, AND STATE PROGRESS
VOLUME I.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.
(This table of contents alos contains listings
for articles in the other issues.)
Abbott, Josiah Gardner _John Hatch George_
An Incident of Sixteen Hundred and Eighty-Six _Mellen Chamberlain_
Ansart, Louis _Clara Clayton_
Arthur, Chester Alan _Ben: Perley Poore_
Beacon Hill Before the Houses _David M. Balfour_
Boston Tea-Party, The
Boston, The First Schoolmaster of _Elizabeth Porter Gould_
Boston, The Siege of, Developed _Henry B. Carrington, U.S.A.,
LL.D._
Boston Young Men's Christian Association, The _Russell Sturgis,
Jr._
Boundary Lines of Old Groton, The _Samuel Abbott Green, M.D._
British Force and the Leading Losses in the Revolution
British Losses in the Revolution
Bunker Hill _Henry B. Carrington, U.S.A., LL.D._
Butler, Benjamin Franklin
Chelsea _William E. McClintock, C.E._
Defence of New York, 1776, The _Henry B. Carrington, U.S.A., LL.D._
Dungeon Rock, Lynn _Frank P. Harriman_
Early Harvard _Josiah Layfayette Seward, A.M._
Esoteric Buddhism.--A Review _Lucius H. Buckingham, Ph.D._
Fac-Simile Reprint of Daniel Webster's Fourth-of-July Oration, Delivered
in 1800.
Family Immigration to New England, The _Thomas W. Bicknell, LL.D._
First Baptist Church in Massachusetts, The _Thomas W. Bicknell,
LL.D
| 379.097906 | 1,799 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.