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Produced by Keith G Richardson
_Submission to Divine Providence in the Death of Children, recommended
and inforced,_
IN A
SERMON
PREACHED at
_NORTHAMPTON_,
On the DEATH
Of a very amiable and hopeful CHILD, about Five Years old.
_Published out of Compassion to mourning_ PARENTS.
By _P. DODDRIDGE_, D. D.
_Neve Liturarum pudeat; qui viderit illas,_
_De Lachrymis factas sentiat esse meis._ OVID.
The SECOND EDITION.
_LONDON_,
Printed for R. HETT, at the _Bible_ and _Crown_ in the _Poultry_. MDCCXL.
THE PREFACE.
_THE Discourse which I now offer to the Publick was drawn up on a very
sorrowful Occasion; the Death of a most desirable Child, who was
formed in such a Correspondence to my own Relish and Temper, as to be
able to give me a Degree of Delight, and consequently of Distress,
which I did not before think it possible I could have received from a
little Creature who had not quite compleated her Fifth Year._
_Since the Sermon was preached, it has pleased_ GOD _to make the like
Breaches on the Families of several of my Friends; and, with Regard to
some of them, the Affliction hath been attended with Circumstances of
yet sorer Aggravation. Tho' several of them are removed to a
considerable Distance from me, and from each other I have born their
Afflictions upon my Heart with cordial Sympathy; and it is with a
particular Desire of serving them, that I have undertaken the sad Task
of reviewing and transcribing these Papers; which may almost be called
the Minutes of my own Sighs and Tears, over the poor Remains of my
eldest and (of this Kind) dearest Hope, when they were not as yet_
buried out of my Sight.
_They are, indeed, full of Affection, and to be sure some may think
they are too full of it: But let them consider the Subject, and the
Circumstances, and surely they will pardon it. I apprehend, I could
not have treated such a Subject coldly, had I writ upon it many years
ago, when I was untaught in the School of Affliction, and knew nothing
of such a Calamity as this, but by Speculation or Report: How much
less could I do it, when_ GOD _had touched me in so tender a Part, and
(to allude to a celebrated ancient Story,) called me out to appear on
a publick Stage, as with an Urn in my Hand, which contained the Ashes
of my own Child!_
_In such a sad Situation Parents, at least, will forgive the Tears of
a Parent, and those Meltings of Soul which overflow in the following
Pages. I have not attempted to run thro' the Common place of_
immoderate Grief, _but have only selected a few obvious Thoughts which
I found peculiarly suitable to myself; and, I bless_ GOD, _I can truly
say, they gave me a solid and substantial Relief, under a Shock of
Sorrow, which would otherwise have broken my Spirits._
_On my own Experience, therefore, I would recommend them to others, in
the like Condition, And let me intreat my Friends and Fellow-Sufferers
to remember, that it is not a low Degree of Submission to the Divine
Will, which is called for in the ensuing Discourse. It is
comparatively an easy Thing to behave with external Decency, to
refrain from bold Censures and outragious Complaints, or to speak in
the outward Language of Resignation. But it is not, so easy to get rid
of every repining Thought, and to forbear taking it, in some Degree at
least, unkindly, that the_ GOD _whom we love and serve, in whose
Friendship we have long trusted and rejoiced, should act what, to
Sense, seems so unfriendly a Part: That he should take away a Child;
and if a Child,_ that Child; _and if that Child, at that Age; and if
at that Age, with this or that particular Circumstance, which seems
the very Contrivance of Providence to add double Anguish to the Wound;
and all this, when he could so easily have recalled it; when we know
him to have done it for so many others; when we so earnestly desired
it; when we sought it with such Importunity, and yet, as we imagine,
with so much Submission too:--That, notwithstanding all this; he
should
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THE VIZIER OF THE TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER
BY
FRANK R. STOCKTON
1899
PREFATORY NOTE
The story told in this book is based upon legendary history, and the
statements on which it is founded appear in the chronicles of Abou-djafar
Mohammed Tabari. This historian was the first Mussulman to write a general
history of the world. He was born in the year 244 of the Hejira
(838-839 A.D.), and passed a great part of his life in Bagdad, where he
studied and taught theology and jurisprudence. His chronicles embrace the
history of the world, according to his lights, from the creation to the
year 302 of the Hejira.
In these chronicles Tabari relates some of the startling experiences of
El Khoudr, or El Kroudhr, then Vizier of that great monarch, the
Two-Horned Alexander, and these experiences furnish the motive for
those subsequent adventures which are now related in this book.
Some writers have confounded the Two-Horned Alexander with Alexander the
Great, but this is an inexcusable error. References in ancient histories
to the Two-Horned Alexander describe him as a great and powerful
potentate, and place him in the time of Abraham. Mr. S. Baring-Gould, in
his "Legends of the Patriarchs and Prophets," states that, after a careful
examination, he has come to the conclusion that some of the most generally
known legends which have come down to us through the ages are based on
incidents which occurred in the reign of this monarch.
The hero of this story now deems it safe to speak out plainly without
fear of evil consequences to himself, and his confidence in our high
civilization is a compliment to the age.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
I lent large sums to the noble knights
"Don't you do it"
His wife was a slender lady
"Time of Abraham!" I exclaimed
Moses asked embarrassing questions
An encounter with Charles Lamb
I cut that picture from its frame
When we left Cordova
I had been a broker in Pompeii
Solomon and the Jinns
"Go tell the queen"
She gave me her hand, and I shook it heartily
Asking all sorts of questions
And roughly told me
She turned her head
"How like!"
I proceeded to dig a hole
"Why are you not in the army?"
Nebuchadnezzar and the gardener
Petrarch and Laura
The crouching African fixed her eyes
upon him
THE VIZIER OF THE
TWO-HORNED ALEXANDER
I
I was on a French steamer bound from Havre to New York, when I had a
peculiar experience in the way of a shipwreck. On a dark and foggy
night, when we were about three days out, our vessel collided with
a derelict--a great, heavy, helpless mass, as dull and colorless
as the darkness in which she was enveloped. We struck her almost
head on, and her stump of a bowsprit was driven into our port bow
with such tremendous violence that a great hole--nobody knew of what
dimensions--was made in our vessel.
The collision occurred about two hours before daylight, and the frightened
passengers who crowded the upper deck were soon informed by the officers
that it would be necessary to take to the boats, for the vessel was
rapidly settling by the head.
Now, of course, all was hurry and confusion. The captain endeavored
to assure his passengers that there were boats enough to carry every
soul on board, and that there was time enough for them to embark
quietly and in order. But as the French people did not understand him
when he spoke in English, and as the Americans did not readily comprehend
what he said in French, his exhortations were of little avail. With such
of their possessions as they could carry, the people crowded into the
boats as soon as they were ready, and sometimes before they were ready;
and while there was not exactly a panic on board, each man seemed to be
inspired with the idea that his safety, and that of his family, if he had
one, depended upon precipitate individual action.
I was a young man, traveling alone, and while I was as anxious as any
one to be saved from the sinking vessel, I was not a coward, and I
could not thrust myself into a boat when there were women and children
behind me who had not yet been provided with places. There were men
who did this, and several times I felt inclined to knock one of the
poltroons overboard. The
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive.)
ROLLO IN NAPLES,
BY
JACOB ABBOTT.
BOSTON:
PUBLISHED BY TAGGARD AND THOMPSON.
M DCCC LXIV.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by
JACOB ABBOTT,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
ELECTROTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.
RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:
PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON.
[Illustration: THE ORANGE GARDEN.--See page 218.]
[Illustration: ROLLO'S TOUR IN EUROPE.
TAGGARD & THOMPSON. Publishers--Boston.]
ROLLO'S TOUR IN EUROPE.
ORDER OF THE VOLUMES
ROLLO ON THE ATLANTIC.
ROLLO IN PARIS.
ROLLO IN SWITZERLAND.
ROLLO IN LONDON.
ROLLO ON THE RHINE.
ROLLO IN SCOTLAND.
ROLLO IN GENEVA.
ROLLO IN HOLLAND.
ROLLO IN NAPLES.
ROLLO IN ROME.
PRINCIPAL PERSONS OF THE STORY.
ROLLO; twelve years of age.
MR. and MRS. HOLIDAY; Rollo's father and mother, travelling in Europe.
THANNY; Rollo's younger brother.
JANE; Rollo's cousin, adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Holiday.
MR. GEORGE; a young gentleman, Rollo's uncle.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--THE VETTURINO, 13
II.--CONTRACTS AND AGREEMENTS, 37
III.--THE JOURNEY, 57
IV.--SITUATION OF NAPLES, 76
V.--PLANNING THE ASCENSION, 91
VI.--GOING UP, 106
VII.--THE SUMMIT, 131
VIII.--POMPEII, 157
IX.--THE MUSEUM, 174
X.--THE STREETS, 188
XI.--AN EXCURSION, 194
XII.--THE ORANGE GARDENS, 213
ENGRAVINGS.
PAGE
THE ORANGE GARDEN, (Frontispiece.)
TRAVELLING IN ITALY, 11
A CHURCH AT FLORENCE, 23
READING THE ARTICLES, 55
EMBLEMS ON THE CROSS, 63
ASCENDING THE MOUNTAINS, 67
SITUATION OF NAPLES, 77
VIEW THROUGH THE GLASS, 87
CALASH COMING INTO NAPLES, 111
THE ASCENT, 127
VIEW OF THE CRATER, 137
COMING DOWN, 153
THE MOSAIC, 183
THE PUBLIC GARDENS, 197
[Illustration: TRAVELLING IN ITALY.]
ROLLO IN NAPLES.
CHAPTER I.
THE VETTURINO.
If ever you make a journey into Italy, there is one thing that you will
like very much indeed; and that is the mode of travelling that prevails
in that country. There are very few railroads there; and though there
are stage coaches on all the principal routes, comparatively few people,
except the inhabitants of the country, travel in them. Almost all who
come from foreign lands to make journeys in Italy for pleasure, take
what is called a _vetturino_.
There is no English word for _vetturino_, because where the English
language is spoken, there is no such thing. The word comes from the
Italian word _vettura_, which means a travelling carriage, and it
denotes the man that owns the carriage, and drives it wherever the party
that employs him wishes to go. Thus there is somewhat the same relation
between the Italian words _vettura_ and _vetturino_ that there is
between the English words _chariot_ and _charioteer_.
The Italian _vetturino_, then, in the simplest English phrase that will
express it, is a _travelling carriage man_; that is, he is a man who
keeps a carriage and a team of horses, in order to take parties of
travellers with them on long journeys, wherever they wish to go. Our
word _coachman_ does not express the idea at all. A coachman is a man
employed by the owner of a carriage simply to drive it; whereas the
vetturino is the proprietor of his establishment; and though he
generally drives it himself, still the driving is only a small part of
his
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
THE MASTER KEY
[Illustration: Rob was surrounded by a group of natives]
THE
MASTER KEY
_An Electrical Fairy Tale_
FOUNDED UPON THE MYSTERIES OF ELECTRICITY
AND THE OPTIMISM OF ITS DEVOTEES. IT WAS
WRITTEN FOR BOYS, BUT OTHERS MAY READ IT
BY
L. FRANK BAUM
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
F. Y. CORY
_The_ BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS. INDIANAPOLIS
COPYRIGHT 1901
THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY
PRESS OF
BRAUNWORTH & CO.
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS
BROOKLYN, N. Y.
To my son
ROBERT STANTON BAUM
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
_Chapter_ _Page_
I Rob's Workshop 1
II The Demon of Electricity 9
III The Three Gifts 18
IV Testing the Instruments 29
V The Cannibal Island 43
VI The Buccaneers 60
VII The Demon Becomes Angry 78
VIII Rob Acquires New Powers 86
IX The Second Journey 97
X How Rob Served a Mighty King 104
XI The Man of Science 126
XII How Rob Saved a Republic 136
XIII Rob Loses His Treasures 146
XIV Turk and Tatar 160
XV A Battle With Monsters 182
XVI Shipwrecked Mariners 192
XVII The Coast of Oregon 206
XVIII A Narrow Escape 214
XIX Rob Makes a Resolution 225
XX The Unhappy Fate of the Demon 230
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
_Page_
Rob was surrounded by a group of natives of
hideous appearance--_Frontispiece_
From his workshop ran a network of wires throughout
the house--_Headpiece_ 1
A quick flash of light almost blinded Rob 6
A curious being looked upon him from a magnificent
radiance--_Tailpiece_ 8
Scientific men think the people of Mars have been
trying to signal us--_Headpiece_ 9
I am here to do your bidding, said the Demon--_Tailpiece_ 17
Men have not yet discovered what the birds know--_Headpiece_ 18
These three gifts may amuse you for the next week--_Tailpiece_ 28
Rob's action surprised them all--_Headpiece_ 29
"He'll break his neck!" cried the astounded
father 36
The red-whiskered policeman keeled over--_Tailpiece_ 42
Rob's captors caught up the end of the rope and
led him away--_Headpiece_ 43
"If it's just the same to you, old chap, I won't be
eaten to-day"--_Tailpiece_ 59
Rob soared through the air with five Buccaneers
dangling from his leg--_Headpiece_ 60
It was a strange sight to see the pirates drop to
the deck and lie motionless 66
When night fell his slumber was broken and uneasy--_Tailpiece_ 77
When Rob had been kissed by his mother, he gave
an account of his adventures--_Headpiece_ 78
Rob sat staring eagerly at the Demon--_Tailpiece_ 85
The Being drew from an inner pocket something
resembling a box--_Headpiece_ 86
These spectacles will indicate the character of
every one you meet--_Tailpiece_ 96
Rob is in truth a typical American boy--_Headpiece_ 97
Rob placed the indicator to a point north of east
and began his journey--_Tailpiece_ 103
A crowd assembled, all shouting and pointing
toward him in wonder--_Headpiece_ 104
A man rushed toward it, but the next moment he
threw up his hands and fell unconscious 108
Rob reached the entrance of the palace, only to
face another group of guardsmen 114
Rob only smiled in an amused way as he marched
past them--_Tailpiece_ 125
A tremendous din and clatter nearly deafened
him--_Headpiece_ 126
The eyes of the Frenchman were actually protruding
from their sockets 128
From an elevation of fifty feet or more Rob overlooked
a pretty garden--_Headpiece_ 136
Placing the record so that the President could see
clearly, Rob watched
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MASTER FRANCIS RABELAIS
FIVE BOOKS OF THE LIVES, HEROIC DEEDS AND SAYINGS OF
GARGANTUA AND HIS SON PANTAGRUEL
Translated into English by
Sir Thomas Urquhart of Cromarty
and
Peter Antony Motteux
The text of the first Two Books of Rabelais has been reprinted from the
first edition (1653) of Urquhart's translation. Footnotes initialled 'M.'
are drawn from the Maitland Club edition (1838); other footnotes are by the
translator. Urquhart's translation of Book III. appeared posthumously in
1693, with a new edition of Books I. and II., under Motteux's editorship.
Motteux's rendering of Books IV. and V. followed in 1708. Occasionally (as
the footnotes indicate) passages omitted by Motteux have been restored from
the 1738 copy edited by Ozell.
CONTENTS.
Introduction
THE FIRST BOOK.
J. De la Salle, to the Honoured, Noble Translator of Rabelais.
Rablophila
The Author's Prologue to the First Book
Rabelais to the Reader
Chapter 1.I.--Of the Genealogy and Antiquity of Gargantua
Chapter 1.II.--The Antidoted Fanfreluches: or, a Galimatia of extravagant
Conceits found in an ancient Monument
Chapter 1.III.--How Gargantua was carried eleven months in his mother's
belly
Chapter 1.IV.--How Gargamelle, being great with Gargantua, did eat a huge
deal of tripes
Chapter 1.V.--The Discourse of the Drinkers
Chapter 1.VI.--How Gargantua was born in a strange manner
Chapter 1.VII.--After what manner Gargantua had his name given him, and how
he tippled, bibbed, and curried the can
Chapter 1.VIII.--How they apparelled Gargantua
Chapter 1.IX.--The colours and liveries of Gargantua
Chapter 1.X.--Of that which is signified by the colours white and blue
Chapter 1.XI.--Of the youthful age of Gargantua
Chapter 1.XII.--Of Gargantua's wooden horses
Chapter 1.XIII.--How Gargantua's wonderful understanding became known to
his father Grangousier, by the invention of a torchecul or wipebreech
Chapter 1.XIV.--How Gargantua was taught Latin by a Sophister
Chapter 1.XV.--How Gargantua was put under other schoolmasters
Chapter 1.XVI.--How Gargantua was sent to Paris, and of the huge great mare
that he rode on; how she destroyed the oxflies of the Beauce
Chapter 1.XVII.--How Gargantua paid his welcome to the Parisians, and how
he took away the great bells of Our Lady's Church
Chapter 1.XVIII.--How Janotus de Bragmardo was sent to Gargantua to recover
the great bells
Chapter 1.XIX.--The oration of Master Janotus de Bragmardo for recovery of
the bells
Chapter 1.XX.--How the Sophister carried away his cloth, and how he had a
suit in law against the other masters
Chapter 1.XXI.--The study of Gargantua, according to the discipline of his
schoolmasters the Sophisters
Chapter 1.XXII.--The games of Gargantua
Chapter 1.XXIII.--How Gargantua was instructed by Ponocrates, and in such
sort disciplinated, that he lost not one hour of the day
Chapter 1.XXIV.--How Gargantua spent his time in rainy weather
Chapter 1.XXV.--How there was great strife and debate raised betwixt the
cake-bakers of Lerne, and those of Gargantua's country, whereupon were
waged great wars
Chapter 1.XXVI.--How the inhabitants of Lerne, by the commandment of
Picrochole their king, assaulted the shepherds of Gargantua unexpectedly
and on a sudden
Chapter 1.XXVII.--How a monk of Seville saved the close of the abbey from
being ransacked by the enemy
Chapter 1.XXVIII.--How Picrochole stormed and took by assault the rock
Clermond, and of Grangous
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THE SCARLET FEATHER
[Illustration: THERE WAS SOMETHING MAGNETIC ABOUT THIS MAN WHOM SHE
FEARED AND TRIED TO HATE.--Page 201]
THE SCARLET FEATHER
BY
HOUGHTON TOWNLEY
Author of
"The Bishop's Emeralds"
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
WILL GREFE
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1909 BY
W. J. WATT & COMPANY
_Published June, 1909_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I The Sheriff's Writ 9
II The Check 21
III The Dinner at the Club 33
IV Dora Dundas 39
V Debts 50
VI A Kinship Something Less Than Kind 66
VII Good-bye 82
VIII A Tiresome Patient 89
IX Herresford is Told 93
X Hearts Ache and Ache Yet Do Not Break 102
XI A House of Sorrow 117
XII A Difficult Position 125
XIII Dick's Heroism 135
XIV Mrs. Swinton Confesses 147
XV Colonel Dundas Speaks His Mind 168
XVI Mr. Trimmer Comes Home 173
XVII Mrs. Swinton Goes Home 190
XVIII A Second Proposal 195
XIX An Unexpected Telegram 204
XX The Wedding Day Arranged 221
XXI Dick's Return 226
XXII The Blight of Fear 237
XXIII Dora Sees Herresford 249
XXIV Dick Explains to Dora 262
XXV Tracked 280
XXVI Mrs. Swinton Hears the Truth 288
XXVII Ormsby Refuses 297
XXVIII The Will 307
XXIX A Public Confession 320
XXX Flight 333
XXXI Dora Decides 340
XXXII Home Again 348
XXXIII The Scarlet Feather 353
THE SCARLET FEATHER
THE SCARLET FEATHER
CHAPTER I
THE SHERIFF'S WRIT
The residence of the Reverend John Swinton was on Riverside Drive,
although the parish of which he was the rector lay miles away, down in
the heart of the East Side. It was thus that he compromised between his
own burning desire to aid in the cleansing of the city's slums and the
social aspirations of his wife. The house stood on a corner, within
grounds of its own, at the back of which were the stables and the
carriage-house. A driveway and a spacious walk led to the front of the
mansion; from the side street, a narrow path reached to the rear
entrance.
A visitor to-night chose this latter humble manner of approach, for the
simple reason that this part of the grounds lay unlighted, and he hoped,
therefore, to pass unobserved through the shadows. The warm, red light
that streamed from an uncurtained French window on the ground floor only
deepened the uncertainty of everything. The man stepped warily, closing
the gate behind him with stealthy care, and crept forward on tiptoe to
lessen the sound of the crunching gravel beneath his heavy shoes. It was
an undignified entry for an officer of the law who carried his
authorization in his hand; but courage was not this man's strong point.
His fear was lest he should meet tall, stalwart Dick Swinton, who, on a
previous occasion of a similar character, had forcibly resented what he
deemed an unwarrantable intrusion on the part of a shabby rascal. The
uncurtained window now attracted the attention of the sheriff's officer,
and he peered in. It was the rector's study.
The rector himself was seated with his back toward the window, at his
desk, upon which were piled account-books and papers in hopeless
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THE ADVENTURES OF PETER COTTONTAIL
By Thornton W. Burgess
Author of "The Adventures of Reddy Fox"
"Old Mother West Wind," etc.
With Illustrations by Harrison Cady
Boston
Little, Brown, And Company
1917
THE ADVENTURES OF PETER COTTONTAIL
I. PETER RABBIT DECIDES TO CHANGE HIS NAME
|PETER RABBIT! Peter Rabbit! I don't see what Mother Nature ever gave
me such a common sounding name as that for. People laugh at me, but if I
had a fine sounding name they wouldn't laugh. Some folks say that a name
doesn't amount to anything, but it does. If I should do some wonderful
thing, nobody would think anything of it. No, Sir, nobody would think
anything of it at all just because--why just because it was done by
Peter Rabbit."
Peter was talking out loud, but he was talking to himself. He sat in the
dear Old Briar-patch with an ugly scowl on his usually happy face. The
sun was shining, the Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind were
dancing over the Green Meadows, the birds were singing, and happiness,
the glad, joyous happiness of springtime, was everywhere but in Peter
Rabbit's heart. There there seeded to be no room for anything but
discontent. And such foolish discontent--discontent with his name! And
yet, do you know, there are lots of people just as foolish as Peter
Rabbit.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
The voice made Peter Rabbit jump and turn around hastily. There was
Jimmy Skunk poking his head in at the opening of one of Peter's private
little paths. He was grinning, and Peter knew by that grin that Jimmy
had heard what he had said. Peter didn't know what to say. He hung his
head in a very shame-faced way.
"You've got something to learn," said Jimmy Skunk.
"What is it?" asked Peter.
"It's just this," replied Jimmy.
"There's nothing in a name except
Just what we choose to make it.
It lies with us and no one else
How other folks shall take it.
It's what we do and what we say
And how we live each passing day
That makes it big or makes it small
Or even worse than none at all.
A name just stands for what we are;
It's what we choose to make it.
And that's the way and only way
That other folks will take it."
Peter Rabbit made a face at Jimmy Skunk. "I don't like being preached
to."
"I'm not preaching; I'm just telling you what you ought to know without
being told," replied Jimmy Skunk. "If you don't like your name, why
don't you change it?"
"What's that?" cried Peter sharply.
"If you don't like your name, why don't you change it?" repeated Jimmy.
Peter sat up and the disagreeable frown had left his face. "I--I--hadn't
thought of that," he said slowly. "Do you suppose I could, Jimmy Skunk?"
"Easiest thing in the world," replied Jimmy Skunk. "Just decide what
name you like and then ask all your friends to call you by it."
"I believe I will!" cried Peter Rabbit.
"Well, let me know what it is when you have decided," said Jimmy, as
he started for home. And all the way up the Crooked Little Path, Jimmy
chuckled to himself as he thought of foolish Peter Rabbit trying to
change his name.
II. PETER FINDS A NAME
|PETER RABBIT had quite lost his appetite. When Peter forgets to eat you
may make up your mind that Peter has something very important to
think about. At least he has something on his mind that he thinks is
important. The fact is, Peter had fully made up his mind to change his
name. He thought Peter Rabbit too common a name. But when he tried to
think of a better one, he found that no name that he could think of
really pleased him any more. So he thought and he thought and he thought
and he thought. And the more he thought the less appetite he had.
Now Jimmy Skunk was the only one to whom Peter had told how discontented
he was with his name, and it was Jimmy who had suggested to Peter that
he change it. Jimmy thought it a great joke, and he straightway passed
the word along among all the little meadow and forest people that Peter
Rabbit was going to change his name. Everybody laughed and chuckled over
the thought of Peter Rabbit's foolishness, and they planned to have
a great deal of fun with Peter as soon as he should tell them his new
name.
Peter was sitting on the edge of the Old Briar-patch one morning when
Ol' Mistah Buzzard passed, flying low. "Good mo'ning, Brer Cottontail,"
said Ol' Mistah Buzzard, with a twinkle in his eye.
At first Peter didn't understand that Ol' Mistah Buzzard was speaking
to him, and by the time he
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Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible, including some inconsistent hyphenation. Some minor
corrections of spelling and punctuation have been made.
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
The Romance of Modern Sieges
[Illustration: THE SALLY FROM THE FORT AT KUMASSI
Led by Capt. Armitage, some two hundred loyal natives sallied forth. At
their head marched the native chiefs, prominent amongst whom was the
young king of Aguna. He was covered back and front with fetish charms,
and on his feet were boots, and where these ended his black legs
began.]
THE ROMANCE OF
MODERN SIEGES
DESCRIBING THE PERSONAL ADVENTURES,
RESOURCE AND DARING OF BESIEGERS
AND BESIEGED IN ALL PARTS OF
THE WORLD
BY
EDWARD GILLIAT, M.A.
SOMETIME MASTER AT HARROW SCHOOL
AUTHOR OF “FOREST OUTLAWS,” “IN LINCOLN GREEN,” _&c._, _&c._
WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
LONDON: SEELEY & CO. LIMITED
1908
PREFACE
These chapters are not histories of sieges, but narratives of such
incidents as occur in beleaguered cities, and illustrate human nature
in some of its strangest moods. That “facts are stranger than fiction”
these stories go to prove: such unexpected issues, such improbable
interpositions meet us in the pages of history. What writer of fiction
would dare to throw down battlements and walls by an earthquake, and
represent besiegers as paralysed by religious fear? These tales are
full, indeed, of all the elements of romance, from the heroism and
self-devotion of the brave and the patient suffering of the wounded, to
the generosity of mortal foes and the kindliness and humour which gleam
even on the battle-field and in the hospital. But the realities of war
have not been kept out of sight; now and then the veil has been lifted,
and the reader has been shown a glimpse of those awful scenes which
haunt the memory of even the stoutest veteran.
We cannot realize fully the life that a soldier lives unless we see
both sides of that life. We cannot feel the gratitude that we ought to
feel unless we know the strain and suspense, the agony and endurance,
that go to make up victory or defeat. In time of war we are full of
admiration for our soldiers and sailors, but in the past they have been
too often forgotten or slighted when peace has ensued. Not to keep in
memory the great deeds of our countrymen is mere ingratitude.
Hearty acknowledgments are due to the authors and publishers who have
so kindly permitted quotation from their books. Every such permission
is more particularly mentioned in its place. The writer has also had
many a talk with men who have fought in the Crimea, in India, in
France, and in South Africa, and is indebted to them for some little
personal touches such as give life and colour to a narrative.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
SIEGE OF GIBRALTAR (1779-1782)
PAGES
The position of the Rock--State of defence--Food-supply--Rodney
brings relief--Fire-ships sent in--A convoy in a fog--Heavy
guns bombard the town--Watching the cannon-ball--Catalina gets
no gift--One against fourteen--Red-hot shot save the day--Lord
Howe to the rescue 17-27
CHAPTER II
DEFENCE OF ACRE (1799)
Jaffa stormed by Napoleon--Sir Sidney Smith hurries to
Acre--Takes a convoy--How the French procured cannon-balls--The
Turks fear the mines--A noisy sortie--Fourteen assaults--A
Damascus blade--Seventy shells explode--Napoleon nearly
killed--The siege raised--A painful retreat 28-36
CHAPTER III
THE WOUNDED CAPTAIN IN TALAVERA (1809)
Talavera between two fires--Captain Boothby wounded--Brought
into Talavera--The fear of the citizens--The surgeons’
delay--Operations without chloroform--The English retire--French
troops arrive--Plunder--French officers kind, and protect
Boothby--A private bent on loot beats a hasty retreat 37-52
CHAPTER IV
THE CAPTURE OF CIUDAD RODRIGO (1812)
A night march--Waiting for scaling-ladders--The assault--Ladders
break--Shells and grenades--A magazine explodes--Street
fighting--Drink brings disorder and plunder--Great spoil 53-61
CHAPTER V
THE STORMING OF BADAJOS (1812)
Rescue of wounded men--A forlorn hope--Fire-balls light up the
scene--A mine explodes--Partial failure of the English--Escalade
of the castle--Pat’s humour and heroism--Saving a
General--Well
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MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
A VIRTUOSO'S COLLECTION
The other day, having a leisure hour at my disposal, I stepped into
a new museum, to which my notice was casually drawn by a small and
unobtrusive sign: "TO BE SEEN HERE, A VIRTUOSO'S COLLECTION." Such
was the simple yet not altogether unpromising announcement that
turned my steps aside for a little while from the sunny sidewalk of
our principal thoroughfare. Mounting a sombre staircase, I pushed
open a door at its summit, and found myself in the presence of a
person, who mentioned the moderate sum that would entitle me to
admittance.
"Three shillings, Massachusetts tenor," said he. "No, I mean half a
dollar, as you reckon in these days."
While searching my pocket for the coin I glanced at the doorkeeper,
the marked character and individuality of whose aspect encouraged me
to expect something not quite in the ordinary way. He wore an
old-fashioned great-coat, much faded, within which his meagre person
was so completely enveloped that the rest of his attire was
undistinguishable. But his visage was remarkably wind-flushed,
sunburnt, and weather-worn, and had a most, unquiet, nervous, and
apprehensive expression. It seemed as if this man had some
all-important object in view, some point of deepest interest to be
decided, some momentous question to ask, might he but hope for a
reply. As it was evident, however, that I could have nothing to do
with his private affairs, I passed through an open doorway, which
admitted me into the extensive hall of the museum.
Directly in front of the portal was the bronze statue of a youth
with winged feet. He was represented in the act of flitting away
from earth, yet wore such a look of earnest invitation that it
impressed me like a summons to enter the hall.
"It is the original statue of Opportunity, by the ancient sculptor
Lysippus," said a gentleman who now approached me. "I place it at
the entrance of my museum, because it is not at all times that one
can gain admittance to such a collection."
The speaker was a middle-aged person, of whom it was not easy to
determine whether he had spent his life as a scholar or as a man of
action; in truth, all outward and obvious peculiarities had been
worn away by an extensive and promiscuous intercourse with the
world. There was no mark about him of profession, individual
habits, or scarcely of country; although his dark complexion and
high features made me conjecture that he was a native of some
southern clime of Europe. At all events, he was evidently the
virtuoso in person.
"With your permission," said he, "as we have no descriptive
catalogue, I will accompany you through the museum and point out
whatever may be most worthy of attention. In the first place, here
is a choice collection of stuffed animals."
Nearest the door stood the outward semblance of a wolf, exquisitely
prepared, it is true, and showing a very wolfish fierceness in the
large glass eyes which were inserted into its wild and crafty head.
Still it was merely the skin of a wolf, with nothing to distinguish
it from other individuals of that unlovely breed.
"How does this animal deserve a place in your collection?" inquired
I.
"It is the wolf that devoured Little Red Riding Hood," answered the
virtuoso; "and by his side--with a milder and more matronly look, as
you perceive--stands the she-wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus."
"Ah, indeed!" exclaimed I. "And what lovely lamb is this with the
snow-white fleece, which seems to be of as delicate a texture as
innocence itself?"
"Methinks you have but carelessly read Spenser," replied my guide,
"or you would at once recognize the'milk-white lamb' which Una led.
But I set no great value upon the lamb. The next specimen is better
worth our notice."
"What!" cried I, "this strange animal, with the black head of an ox
upon the body of a white horse? Were it possible to suppose it, I
should say that this was Alexander's steed Bucephalus."
"The same," said the virtuoso. "And can you likewise give a name to
the famous charger that stands beside him?"
Next to the renowned Bucephalus stood the mere skeleton of a horse,
with the white bones peeping through his ill-conditioned hide; but,
if my heart had not warmed towards that pitiful anatomy, I might as
well have quitted the museum at once. Its rarities had not been
collected with pain and toil from
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[Transcriber's Note:
I feel that it is important to note that this book is part of the
Caledonian series. The Caledonian series is a group of 50 books
comprising all of Sir Walter Scott's works.]
WAVERLEY
OR 'T IS SIXTY YEARS SINCE
BY SIR WALTER SCOTT
VOLUME I
PUBLISHERS' NOTE
It has long been the ambition of the present publishers to offer to the
public an ideal edition of the writings of Sir Walter Scott, the great
poet and novelist of whom William Hazlitt said, 'His works are almost
like a new edition of human nature.' Secure in the belief not only that
his writings have achieved a permanent place in the literature of the
world, but that succeeding generations will prize them still more
highly, we have, after the most careful planning and study, undertaken
the publication of this edition of the Waverley Novels and the complete
poetical writings.
It is evident that the ideal edition of a great classic must be
distinguished in typography, must present the best available text, and
must be illustrated in such a way as at once to be beautiful in itself
and to add to the reader's pleasure and his understanding of the book.
As to the typography and text, little need be said here. The format of
the edition has been most carefully studied, and represents the use of
the best resources of The Riverside Press. The text has been carefully
edited in the light of Scott's own revisions; all of his own latest
notes have been included, glossaries have been added, and full
descriptive notes to the illustrations have been prepared which will,
we hope, add greatly to the reader's interest and instruction in the
reading of the novels and poems.
Of the illustrations, which make the special feature of this edition,
something more may be said. In the case of an author like Sir Walter
Scott, the ideal edition requires that the beautiful and romantic
scenery amid which he lived and of which he wrote shall be adequately
presented to the reader. No other author ever used more charming
backgrounds or employed them to better advantage. To see Scotland, and
to visit in person all the scenes of the novels and poems, would enable
the reader fully to understand these backgrounds and thereby add
materially to his appreciation of the author.
Before beginning the preparation of this edition, the head of the
department having it in charge made a visit in person to the scenes of
the novels and poems, determined to explore all the localities referred
to by the author, so far as they could be identified. The field proved
even more productive than had been at first supposed, and photographs
were obtained in sufficient quantity to illustrate all the volumes.
These pictures represent the scenes very much as Scott saw them. The
natural scenery--mountains, woods, lakes, rivers, seashore, and the
like--is nearly the same as in his day. The ruins of ancient castles
and abbeys were found to correspond very closely with his descriptions,
though in many instances he had in imagination rebuilt these ruins and
filled them with the children of his fancy. The scenes of the stories
extend into nearly every county in Scotland and through a large part of
England and Wales. All of these were thoroughly investigated, and
photographs were made of everything of interest. One of the novels has
to do with France and Belgium, one with Switzerland, one with the Holy
Land, one with Constantinople, and one with India. For all of these
lands, which Scott did not visit in person, and therefore did not
describe with the same attention to detail as in the case of his own
country, interesting pictures of characteristic scenery were secured.
By this method the publishers have hoped to bring before the reader a
series of photographs which will not only please the eye and give a
satisfactory artistic effect to the volumes, but also increase the
reader's knowledge of the country described and add a new charm to the
delightful work of the author. In addition to the photographs, old
engravings and paintings have been reproduced for the illustration of
novels having to do with old buildings, streets, etc., which have long
since disappeared. For this material a careful search was made in the
British Museum, the Advocates' Library and City Museum, Edinburgh, the
Library at Abbotsford, the Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, and other
collections.
It has been thought, too, that the ideal edition of Scott's works would
not be complete without an adequate portrayal of his more memorable
characters. This has been accomplished in a series of frontispieces
specially painted for this edition by twenty of the most distinguished
illustrators of England.
4 PARK STREET, BOSTON.
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE WAVERLEY NOVELS
IT has been the occasional occupation of the Author of Waverley, for
several years past, to revise and correct the voluminous series of
Novels which pass under that name, in order that, if they should ever
appear as his avowed productions, he might render them in some degree
deserving of a continuance of the public favour with which they have
been honoured ever since their first appearance. For a long period,
however
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* * * * *
Transcriber's Note: The original publication has been replicated
faithfully except as shown in the Transcriber's Amendments at the end of
the text. Words in italics are indicated like _this_. Obscured letters in
the original publication are indicated with {?}. Text emphasized with bold
characters or other treatment is shown like =this=. Footnotes are located
near the end of the text.
* * * * *
Dispensary Department Bulletin No. 1
NURSES' PAPERS
ON
TUBERCULOSIS
PUBLISHED BY THE
CITY OF CHICAGO
MUNICIPAL TUBERCULOSIS SANITARIUM
SEPTEMBER 1914
CITY OF CHICAGO MUNICIPAL TUBERCULOSIS SANITARIUM
STAFF OF NURSES
--OF THE--
DISPENSARY DEPARTMENT
ROSALIND MACKAY, R. N., Superintendent of Nurses
ANNA G. BARRETT
BARBARA H. BARTLETT
OLIVE E. BEASON
ELLA M. BLAND
KATHRYN M. CANFIELD
MABEL F. CLEVELAND
ELRENE M. COOMBS
MARGARET M. COUGHLIN
STELLA W. COULDREY
EMMA W. CRAWFORD
FANNIE J. DAVENPORT
ROXIE A. DENTZ
C. ETHEL DICKINSON
ANNA M. DRAKE
MARY E. EGBERT
MAUDE F. ESS{?}
SARA D. FAROLL
MARY FRASER
AUGUSTA A. GOUGH
FRANCES M. HEINRICH
LAURA K. HILL
ISABELLA J. JENSEN
EMMA E. JONES
LETTA D. JONES
JEANETTE KIPP
ELSA LUND
MARY MACCONACHIE
JOSEPHINE V. MARK
ISABEL C. MCKAY
ANNA V. MCVADY
ANNIE MORRISON
KATHERINE M. PATTERSON
LAURA A. REDMOND
GRACE M. SAVILLE
BERYL SCOTT
FLORENCE T. SINGLETON
MABELLE SMITH
FLORENCE A. SPENCER
HARRIETT STAHLEY
GENEVIEVE E. STRATTON
ANNABEL B. STUBBS
ALICE J. TAPPING
OLIVE TUCKER
ELIZABETH M. WATTS
MARY C. WRIGHT
MARY C. YOUNG
KARLA STRIBRNA, Interpreter.
BOARD OF DIRECTORS
THEODORE B. SACHS, M. D., President
GEORGE B. YOUNG, M. D., Secretary
W. A. WIEBOLDT.
GENERAL OFFICE
105 West Monroe Street
FRANK E. WING, Executive Officer.
[Illustration: FIELD NURSES, DISPENSARY DEPARTMENT CHICAGO MUNICIPAL
TUBERCULOSIS SANITARIUM]
Dispensary Department Bulletin No. 1
NURSES' PAPERS
ON
TUBERCULOSIS
READ BEFORE THE
NURSES' STUDY CIRCLE
OF THE
DISPENSARY DEPARTMENT
CHICAGO MUNICIPAL TUBERCULOSIS SANITARIUM
PUBLISHED BY THE
CITY OF CHICAGO
MUNICIPAL TUBERCULOSIS SANITARIUM
105 WEST MONROE STREET
SEPTEMBER 1914
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction--Nurses' Tuberculosis Study Circle 5
Historical Notes on Tuberculosis 7
ROSALIND MACKAY, R. N.
Visiting Tuberculosis Nursing in Various Cities of the United
States 11
ANNA M. DRAKE, R. N.
Provisions for Outdoor Sleeping 30
MAY MACCONACHIE, R. N.
Some Points in the Nursing Care of the Advanced Consumptive 37
ELSA LUND, R. N.
Open Air Schools in This Country and Abroad 44
FRANCES M. HEINRICH, R. N.
Notes on Tuberculin for Nurses 56
NURSES' TUBERCULOSIS STUDY CIRCLE
It is well known that the gathering of facts and study of literature
essential to the preparation of a paper on a certain subject is a very
productive method of
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TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
By Mary Johnston
TO
THE MEMORY OF
MY MOTHER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. IN WHICH I THROW AMBS-ACE
CHAPTER II. IN WHICH I MEET MASTER JEREMY SPARROW
CHAPTER III. IN WHICH I MARRY IN HASTE
CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH I AM LIKE TO REPENT AT LEISURE
CHAPTER V. IN WHICH A WOMAN HAS HER WAY
CHAPTER VI. IN WHICH WE GO TO JAMESTOWN
CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH WE PREPARE TO FIGHT THE SPANIARD
CHAPTER VIII. IN WHICH ENTERS MY LORD CARNAL
CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH TWO DRINK OF ONE CUP
CHAPTER X. IN WHICH MASTER PORY GAINS TIME TO SOME PURPOSE
CHAPTER XI. IN WHICH I MEET AN ITALIAN DOCTOR
CHAPTER XII. IN WHICH I RECEIVE A WARNING AND REPOSE A TRUST
CHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH THE SANTA TERESA DROPS DOWN-STREAM
CHAPTER XIV. IN WHICH WE SEEK A LOST LADY
CHAPTER XV. IN WHICH WE FIND THE HAUNTED WOOD
CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH I AM RID OF AN UNPROFITABLE SERVANT
CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH MY LORD AND I PLAY AT BOWLS
CHAPTER XVIII. IN WHICH WE GO OUT INTO THE NIGHT
CHAPTER XIX. IN WHICH WE HAVE UNEXPECTED COMPANY
CHAPTER XX. IN WHICH WE ARE IN DESPERATE CASE
CHAPTER XXI. IN WHICH A GRAVE IS DIGGED
CHAPTER XXII. IN WHICH I CHANGE MY NAME AND OCCUPATION
CHAPTER XXIII. IN WHICH WE WRITE UPON THE SAND
CHAPTER XXIV. IN WHICH WE CHOOSE THE LESSER OF TWO EVILS
CHAPTER XXV. IN WHICH MY LORD HATH HIS DAY
CHAPTER XXVI. IN WHICH I AM BROUGHT TO TRIAL
CHAPTER XXVII. IN WHICH I FIND AN ADVOCATE
CHAPTER XXVIII. IN WHICH THE SPRINGTIME IS AT HAND
CHAPTER XXIX. IN WHICH I KEEP TRYST
CHAPTER XXX. IN WHICH WE START UPON A JOURNEY
CHAPTER XXXI. IN WHICH NANTAUQUAS COMES TO OUR RESCUE
CHAPTER XXXII. IN WHICH WE ARE THE GUESTS OF AN EMPEROR
CHAPTER XXXIII. IN WHICH MY FRIEND BECOMES MY FOE
CHAPTER XXXIV. IN WHICH THE RACE IS NOT TO THE SWIFT
CHAPTER XXXV. IN WHICH I COME TO THE GOVERNOR'S HOUSE
CHAPTER XXXVI. IN WHICH I HEAR ILL NEWS
CHAPTER XXXVII. IN WHICH MY LORD AND I PART COMPANY
CHAPTER XXXVIII. IN WHICH I GO UPON A QUEST
CHAPTER XXXIX. IN WHICH WE LISTEN TO A SONG
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
CHAPTER I IN WHICH I THROW AMBS-ACE
THE work of the day being over, I sat down upon my doorstep, pipe in
hand, to rest awhile in the cool of the evening. Death is not more still
than is this Virginian land in the hour when the sun has sunk away, and
it is black beneath the trees, and the stars brighten slowly and softly,
one by one. The birds that sing all day have hushed, and the horned
owls, the monster frogs, and that strange and ominous fowl (if fowl it
be, and not, as some assert, a spirit damned) which we English call the
whippoorwill, are yet silent. Later the wolf will howl and the panther
scream, but now there is no sound. The winds are laid, and the restless
leaves droop and are quiet. The low lap of the water among the reeds is
like the breathing of one who sleeps in his watch beside the dead.
I marked the light die from the broad bosom of the river, leaving it
a dead man's hue. Awhile ago, and for many evenings, it had been
crimson,--a river of blood. A week before, a great meteor had shot
through the night, blood-red and bearded, drawing a slow-fading fiery
trail across the heavens; and the moon had risen that same night
blood-red, and upon its disk there was drawn in shadow a thing most
marvelously like a scalping knife. Wherefore, the following day being
Sunday, good Mr. Stockham, our minister at Weyanoke, exhorted us to be
on our guard, and in his prayer besought that no sedition or rebellion
might raise its head amongst the Indian subjects of the Lord's anointed.
Afterward, in the churchyard, between the services, the more timorous
began to tell of divers portents which they had observed, and to recount
old tales of how the savages distressed us in the Starving Time. The
bolder spirits laughed them to scorn, but the women began to weep and
cower, and I, though I laughed too, thought of Smith, and how he ever
held the savages, and more especially that Opechancanough who was now
their emperor, in a most deep distrust; telling us that the red men
watched while we slept, that they might teach wiliness to a Jesuit, and
how to bide its time to a cat crouched before a mousehole. I thought
of the terms we now kept with these heathen; of how they came and went
familiarly amongst us, spying out our weakness, and losing the salutary
awe which that noblest captain had struck into their souls; of how many
were employed as hunters to bring down deer for lazy masters; of how,
breaking the law, and that not secretly, we gave them knives and arms, a
soldier's bread, in exchange for pelts and pearls; of how their emperor
was forever sending us smooth messages; of how their lips smiled
and their eyes frowned. That afternoon, as I rode home through the
lengthening shadows, a hunter, red-brown and naked, rose from behind a
fallen tree that sprawled across my path, and made offer to bring me my
meat from the moon of corn to the moon of stags in exchange for a gun.
There was scant love between the savages and myself,--it was answer
enough when I told him my name. I left the dark figure standing, still
as a carved stone, in the heavy shadow of the trees, and, spurring my
horse (sent me from home, the year before, by my cousin Percy), was soon
at my house,--a poor and rude one, but pleasantly set upon a <DW72> of
green turf, and girt with maize and the broad leaves of the tobacco.
When I had had my supper, I called from their hut the two Paspahegh lads
bought by me from their tribe the Michaelmas before, and soundly flogged
them both, having in my mind a saying of my ancient captain's, namely,
"He who strikes first oft-times strikes last."
Upon the afternoon of which I now speak, in the midsummer of the year of
grace 1621, as I sat upon my doorstep, my long pipe between my teeth and
my eyes upon the pallid stream below, my thoughts were busy with these
matters,--so busy that I did not see a horse and rider emerge from the
dimness of the forest into the cleared space before my palisade, nor
knew, until his voice came up the bank, that my good friend, Master John
Rolfe, was without and would speak to me.
I went down to the gate, and, unbarring it, gave him my hand and led the
horse within the inclosure.
"Thou careful man!" he said, with a laugh, as he dismounted. "Who else,
think you, in this or any other hundred, now bars his gate when the sun
goes down?"
"It is my sunset gun," I answered briefly, fastening his horse as I
spoke.
He put his arm about my shoulder, for we were old friends, and together
we went up the green bank to the house, and, when I had brought him a
pipe, sat down side by side upon the doorstep.
"Of what were you dreaming?" he asked presently, when we had made for
ourselves a great cloud of smoke. "I called you twice."
"I was wishing for Dale's times and Dale's laws."
He laughed, and touched my knee with his hand, white and smooth as a
woman's, and with a green jewel upon the forefinger.
"Thou Mars incarnate!" he cried. "Thou first, last, and in the meantime
soldier! Why, what wilt thou do when thou gettest to heaven? Make it too
hot to hold thee? Or take out letters of marque against the Enemy?"
"I am not there yet," I said dryly. "In the meantime I would like a
commission against--your relatives."
He laughed, then sighed, and, sinking his chin into his hand and softly
tapping his foot against the ground, fell into a reverie.
"I would your princess were alive," I said presently.
"So do I," he answered softly. "So do I." Locking his hands behind his
head, he raised his quiet face to the evening star. "Brave and wise and
gentle," he mused. "If I did not think to meet her again, beyond that
star, I could not smile and speak calmly, Ralph, as I do now."
"'T is a strange thing," I said, as I refilled my pipe. "Love for your
brother-in-arms, love for your commander if he be a commander worth
having, love for your horse and dog, I understand. But wedded love! to
tie a burden around one's neck because 't is pink and white, or clear
bronze, and shaped with elegance! Faugh!"
"Yet I came with half a mind to persuade thee to that very burden!" he
cried, with another laugh.
"Thanks for thy pains," I said, blowing blue rings into the air.
"I have ridden to-day from Jamestown," he went on. "I was the only
man, i' faith, that cared to leave its gates; and I met the world--the
bachelor world--flocking to them. Not a mile of the way but I
encountered Tom, Dick, and Harry, dressed in their Sunday bravery and
making full tilt for the city. And the boats upon the river! I have seen
the Thames less crowded."
"There was more passing than usual," I said; "but I was busy in the
fields, and did not attend. What's the lodestar?"
"The star that draws us all,--some to ruin, some to bliss ineffable,
woman."
"Humph! The maids have come, then?"
He nodded. "There's a goodly ship down there, with a goodly lading."
"Videlicet, some fourscore waiting damsels and milkmaids, warranted
honest by my Lord Warwick," I muttered.
"This business hath been of Edwyn Sandys' management, as you very well
know," he rejoined, with some heat. "His word is good: therefore I hold
them chaste. That they are fair I can testify, having seen them leave
the ship."
"Fair and chaste," I said, "but meanly born."
"I grant you that," he answered. "But after all, what of it? Beggars
must not be choosers. The land is new and must be peopled, nor will
those who come after us look too curiously into the lineage of those
to whom a nation owes its birth. What we in these plantations need is
a loosening of the bonds which tie us to home, to England, and a
tightening of those which bind us to this land in which we have cast our
lot. We put our hand to the plough, but we turn our heads and look
to our Egypt and its fleshpots. 'T is children and wife--be that wife
princess or peasant--that make home of a desert, that bind a man with
chains of gold to the country where they abide. Wherefore, when at
midday I met good Master Wickham rowing down from Henricus to Jamestown,
to offer his aid to Master Bucke in his press of business to-morrow, I
gave the good man Godspeed, and thought his a fruitful errand and one
pleasing to the Lord."
"Amen," I yawned. "I love the land, and call it home. My withers are
unwrung."
He rose to his feet, and began to pace the greensward before the door.
My eyes followed his trim figure, richly though sombrely clad, then fell
with a sudden dissatisfaction upon my own stained and frayed apparel.
"Ralph," he said presently, coming to a stand before me, "have you ever
an hundred and twenty pounds of tobacco in hand? If not, I"--
"I have the weed," I replied. "What then?"
"Then at dawn drop down with the tide to the city, and secure for
thyself one of these same errant damsels."
I stared at him, and then broke into laughter, in which, after a space
and unwillingly, he himself joined. When at length I wiped the water
from my eyes it was quite dark, the whippoorwills had begun to call, and
Rolfe must needs hasten on. I went with him down to the gate.
"Take my advice,--it is that of your friend," he said, as he swung
himself into the saddle. He gathered up the reins and struck spurs into
his horse, then turned to call back to me: "Sleep upon my words, Ralph,
and the next time I come I look to see a farthingale behind thee!"
"Thou art as like to see one upon me," I answered.
Nevertheless, when he had gone, and I climbed the bank and reentered the
house, it was with a strange pang at the cheerlessness of my hearth,
and an angry and unreasoning impatience at the lack of welcoming face or
voice. In God's name, who was there to welcome me? None but my hounds,
and the flying squirrel I had caught and tamed. Groping my way to the
corner, I took from my store two torches, lit them, and stuck them into
the holes pierced in the mantel shelf; then stood beneath the clear
flame, and looked with a sudden sick distaste upon the disorder which
the light betrayed. The fire was dead, and ashes and embers were
scattered upon the hearth; fragments of my last meal littered the table,
and upon the unwashed floor lay the bones I had thrown my dogs. Dirt
and confusion reigned; only upon my armor, my sword and gun, my hunting
knife and dagger, there was no spot or stain. I turned to gaze upon
them where they hung against the wall, and in my soul I hated the piping
times of peace, and longed for the camp fire and the call to arms.
With an impatient sigh, I swept the litter from the table, and,
taking from the shelf that held my meagre library a bundle of Master
Shakespeare's plays (gathered for me by Rolfe when he was last in
London), I began to read; but my thoughts wandered, and the tale seemed
dull and oft told. I tossed it aside, and, taking dice from my pocket,
began to throw. As I cast the bits of bone, idly, and scarce caring to
observe what numbers came uppermost, I had a vision of the forester's
hut at home, where, when I was a boy, in the days before I ran away to
the wars in the Low Countries, I had spent many a happy hour. Again I
saw the bright light of the fire reflected in each well-scrubbed crock
and pannikin; again I heard the cheerful hum of the wheel; again the
face of the forester's daughter smiled upon me. The old gray manor
house, where my mother, a stately dame, sat ever at her tapestry, and an
imperious elder brother strode to and fro among his hounds, seemed less
of home to me than did that tiny, friendly hut. To-morrow would be my
thirty-sixth birthday. All the numbers that I cast were high. "If I
throw ambs-ace," I said, with a smile for my own caprice, "curse me if I
do not take Rolfe's advice!"
I shook the box and clapped it down upon the table, then lifted it,
and stared with a lengthening face at what it had hidden; which done, I
diced no more, but put out my lights and went soberly to bed.
CHAPTER II IN WHICH I MEET MASTER JEREMY SPARROW
MINE are not dicers' oaths. The stars were yet shining when I left the
house, and, after a word with my man Diccon, at the servants' huts,
strode down the bank and through the gate of the palisade to the wharf,
where I loosed my boat, put up her sail, and turned her head down the
broad stream. The wind was fresh and favorable, and we went swiftly down
the river through the silver mist toward the sunrise. The sky grew pale
pink to the zenith; then the sun rose and drank up the mist. The river
sparkled and shone; from the fresh green banks came the smell of the
woods and the song of birds; above rose the sky, bright blue, with a few
fleecy clouds drifting across it. I thought of the day, thirteen years
before, when for the first time white men sailed up this same river,
and of how noble its width, how enchanting its shores, how gay and sweet
their blooms and odors, how vast their trees, how strange the painted
savages, had seemed to us, storm-tossed adventurers, who thought we had
found a very paradise, the Fortunate Isles at least. How quickly were
we undeceived! As I lay back in the stern with half-shut eyes and tiller
idle in my hand, our many tribulations and our few joys passed in review
before me. Indian attacks; dissension and strife amongst our rulers;
true men persecuted, false knaves elevated; the weary search for gold
and the South Sea; the horror of the pestilence and the blacker horror
of the Starving Time; the arrival of the Patience and Deliverance,
whereat we wept like children; that most
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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, American National Red Cross 56
Some Red Cross Decorations Presented to Clara Barton 83
Chronological Historic Tree 84
Clara Barton, taken about 1884 113
"Josh V. Throop" 114
Camp Perry 143
Red Cross Headquarters 144
Johnstown, Pa., before the Flood of 1889 155
Red Cross Hotel, Locust Street, Johnstown, Pa. 156
Red Cross Furniture Room, Johnstown, Pa. 163
Typical Scene after the Flood at Johnstown, Pa., May 30, 1889 164
In Memoriam 174
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PHILOSOPHY OF THE
PRACTICAL
ECONOMIC AND ETHIC
TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN OF
BENEDETTO CROCE
BY
DOUGLAS AINSLIE
B.A. (OXON.), M.R.A.S.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1913
Benedetto Croce's Philosophy of the Spirit, in the English translation
by Douglas Ainslie, consists of 4 volumes (which can be read separately):
1. Aesthetic as science of expression and general linguistic. (Second augmented
edition. A first ed. is also available at Project Gutenberg.)
2. Philosophy of the practical: economic and ethic.
3. Logic as the science of the pure concept.
4. Theory and history of historiography.
--Transcriber's note.
NOTE
Certain chapters only of the third part of this book were anticipated
in the study entitled _Reduction of the Philosophy of Law to the
Philosophy of Economy,_ read before the Accademia Pontaniana of Naples
at the sessions of April 21 and May 5, 1907 (_Acts,_ vol. xxxvii.);
but I have remodelled them, amplifying certain pages and summarizing
others. The concept of economic activity as an autonomous form of the
spirit, which receives systematic treatment in the second part of the
book, was first maintained in certain essays, composed from 1897 to
1900, and afterwards collected in the volume _Historical Materialism
and Marxist Economy_ (2nd edition, Palermo, Sandron, 1907).
B. C.
NAPLES,
19_th April_ 1908.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
"A noi sembra che l' opera del Croce sia lo sforzo più potente che il
pensiero italiano abbia compiuto negli ultimi anni."--G. DE RUGGIERO in
_La Filosofia contemporanea,_ 1912.
"Il sistema di Benedetto Croce rimane la più alta conquista del
pensiero contemporaneo."--G. NATOLI in _La Voce,_ 19th December 1912.
Those acquainted with my translation of Benedetto Croce's _Æsthetic
as Science of Expression and General Linguistic_ will not need to be
informed of the importance of this philosopher's thought, potent in its
influence upon criticism, upon philosophy and upon life, and famous
throughout Europe.
In the Italian, this volume is the third and last of the _Philosophy
of the Spirit, Logic as Science of the Pure Concept_ coming second in
date of publication. But apart from the fact that philosophy is like
a moving circle, which can be entered equally well at any point, I
have preferred to place this volume before the _Logic_ in the hands of
British readers. Great Britain has long been a country where moral
values are highly esteemed; we are indeed experts in the practice,
though perhaps not in the theory of morality, a lacuna which I believe
this book will fill.
In saying that we are experts in moral practice I do not, of course,
refer to the narrow conventional morality, also common with us, which
so often degenerates into hypocrisy, a legacy of Puritan origin; but
apart from this, there has long existed in many millions of Britons a
strong desire to live well, or, as they put it, cleanly and rightly,
and achieved by many, independent of any close or profound examination
of the logical foundation of this desire. Theology has for some
taken the place of pure thought, while for others, early training
on religious lines has been sufficiently strong to dominate other
tendencies in practical life. Yet, as a speculative Scotsman, I am
proud to think that we can claim divided honours with Germany in the
production of Emmanuel Kant (or Cant).
The latter half of the nineteenth century witnessed with us a great
development of materialism in its various forms. The psychological,
anti-historical speculation contained in the so-called Synthetic
Philosophy (really psychology) of Herbert Spencer was but one of the
many powerful influences abroad, tending to divert youthful minds
from the true path of knowledge. This writer, indeed, made himself
notorious by his attitude of contemptuous intolerance and ignorance
of the work previously done in connection with subjects which he was
investigating. He accepted little but the evidence of his own senses
and judgment, as though he were the first philosopher. But time has
now taken its revenge, and modern criticism has exposed the Synthetic
Philosophy in all its barren and rigid inadequacy and ineffectuality.
Spencer tries to force Life into a brass bottle of his own making, but
the genius will not go into his bottle. The names and writings of J. S.
Mill, of Huxley, and of Bain are, with many others of lesser calibre,
a potent aid to the dissolving influence of Spencer. Thanks to their
efforts, the spirit of man was lost sight of so completely that I
can well remember hearing Kant's great
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+-------------------------------------------------+
|Transcriber's note: |
| |
|Obvious typographical errors have been corrected |
+-------------------------------------------------+
Vol. I. MAY, 1906 No. 3
MOTHER EARTH
[Illustration]
P. O. Box 217 EMMA GOLDMAN, Publisher 10c. a Copy
CONTENTS
PAGE
Tidings of May 1
Envy WALT WHITMAN 2
Observations and Comments 3
"This Man Gorky" MARGARET GRANT 8
Comrade MAXIM GORKY 17
Alexander Berkman E. G. 22
Poem VOLTAIRINE DE CLEYRE 25
The White Terror 25
Paternalistic Government THEODORE SCHROEDER 27
Liberty in Common Life BOLTON HALL 34
Statistics H. KELLY 35
Gerhart Hauptmann with the Weavers of Silesia MAX BAGINSKI 38
Disappointed Economists 47
Vital Art ANNY MALI HICKS 48
Kristofer Hansteen VOLTAIRINE DE CLEYRE 52
Fifty Years of Bad Luck SADAKICHI HARTMANN 56
10c. A COPY $1 A YEAR
MOTHER EARTH
Monthly Magazine Devoted to Social Science and Literature
Published Every 15th of the Month
EMMA GOLDMAN, Publisher, P. O. Box 217, Madison Square Station,
New York, N. Y.
Vol. I MAY, 1906 No. 3
TIDINGS OF MAY.
The month of May is a grinning satire on the mode of living of human
beings of the present day.
The May sun, with its magic warmth, gives life to so much beauty, so
much value.
The dead, grayish brown of the forest and woods is transformed into a
rich, intoxicating, delicate, fragrant green.
Golden sun-rays lure flowers and grass from the soil, and kiss branch
and tree into blossom and bloom.
Tillers of the soil are beginning their activity with plough, shovel,
rake, breaking the firm grip of grim winter upon the Earth, so that the
mild spring warmth may penetrate her breast and coax into growth and
maturity the seeds lying in her womb.
A great festival seems at hand for which Mother Earth has adorned
herself with garments of the richest and most beautiful hues.
What does civilized humanity do with all this splendor? It speculates
with it. Usurers, who gamble with the necessities of life, will take
possession of Nature's gifts, of wheat and corn, fruit and flowers, and
will carry on a shameless trade with them, while millions of toilers,
both in country and city, will be permitted to partake of the earth's
riches only in medicinal doses and at exorbitant prices.
May's generous promise to mankind, that they were to receive in
abundance, is being broken and undone by the existing arrangements of
society.
The Spring sends its glad tidings to man through the jubilant songs
that stream from the throats of her feathered messengers. "Behold," they
sing, "I have such wealth to give away, but you know not how to take.
You count and bargain and weigh and measure, rather than feast at my
heavily laden tables. You crawl about on the ground, bent by worry and
dread, rather than drink in the free balmy air!"
The irony of May is neither cold nor hard. It contains a mild yet
convincing appeal to mankind to finally break the power of the Winter
not only in Nature, but in our social life,--to free itself from the
hard and fixed traditions of a dead past.
[Illustration]
ENVY.
By WALT WHITMAN.
_When I peruse the conquered fame of heroes, and the victories of
mighty generals, I do not envy the generals,
Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great
house;
But when I hear of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with them,
How through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging, long and long
Through youth, and through middle and old age, how unfaltering, how
affectionate and faithful they were,
Then I am pensive--I hastily walk away, filled with the bitterest
envy._
OBSERVATIONS AND COMMENTS.
A young man had an Ideal which he cherished as the most beautiful and
greatest treasure he had on earth. He promised himself never to part
with it, come what might.
His surroundings, however, repeated from morn till night that one can
not feed on Ideals, and that one must become practical if he wishes to
get on in life.
When he attempted the practical, he realized that his Ideal could never
become reconciled to it. This, at first, caused him deep suffering, but
he soon conceived a pleasant thought: "Why should I expose my precious
jewel to the vulgarity, coarseness and filth of a practical life? I will
put it into a jewel case and hide it in a secluded spot."
From time to time, especially when business was bad, he stole over to
the case containing his Ideal, to delight in its splendor. Indeed, the
world was shabby compared with that!
Meanwhile he married and his business began to improve. The members of
his party had already begun to discuss the possibility of putting him up
as a candidate for Alderman.
He visited his Ideal at longer intervals now. He had made a very
unpleasant discovery,--his Ideal had lessened in size and weight in
proportion to the practical opulence of his mind. It grew old and full
of wrinkles, which aroused his suspicions. After all, the practical
people were right in making light of Ideals. Did he not observe with his
own eyes how his Ideal had faded?
It had been overlooked for a long time. Once more he stole over to the
safety vault containing his Ideal. It was at a time when he had suffered
a severe business loss. With great yearning in his breast, he lifted the
cover of the case. He was worn from practical life and his heart and
head felt heavy. He found the case empty. His Ideal had vanished,
evaporated!--It dawned upon him that he had proven false to the Ideal,
and not the Ideal to him.
[Illustration]
Pity and sympathy have been celebrating a great feast within the last
few weeks. When they look into the mirror of public opinion they find
their own reflex touchingly beautiful, big, very human. Want was about
to commit self-destruction in abolishing poverty, tears and the despair
of suffering humanity forever.
The "heart" of New York, the "heart" of the country, the "heart" of the
entire world throbs for San Francisco. The press says so, at least.
No doubt a large amount in checks and banknotes was sent to the city of
the Golden Gate. Money, in these days, is the criterion of emotions and
sentiments; so that the pity of one who gives $10,000 must appear
incomparably greater than the pity of one who contributes a small sum
which was perhaps intended to buy shoes for the children, or to pay the
grocery bill. A large sum is always loud and boastful in the way it
appears in the newspapers. The delicate tact and fine taste of the
various editors see to it that the names of the donors of large sums be
printed in heavy type.
After all, can not one every day and in every large city observe the
same phenomenon that has followed the disaster in San Francisco? Surely
there were homeless, starved, despaired, wretched beings in San
Francisco before the earthquake and the fire, yet the public's pity and
sympathy haughtily passed them by; and official sympathy and compassion
had nothing but the police station and the workhouse to give them.
And now,--what is really being done now? Humanitarianism is exhibiting
itself in a low and vulgar manner, and superficiality and bad taste are
stalking about in peacock fashion.
The newspapers are full of praise for the bravery of the militia in
their defense of property. A man was instantly shot as he walked out of
a saloon with his arms full of champagne bottles, and another was shot
for carrying off a sack of coffee, etc. How strange that the "brave
boys" of the militia,--who, by the way, had to be severely disciplined
because of their beastly drunkenness,--showed so much noble indignation
against a few clumsy thieves! During the strikes and labor conflicts it
is usually their mission to protect the property of skillful
thieves,--legal thieves, of course.
Finally what is going to be the end of the great display of superficial
sentimentality for the stricken city? An all-around good deal: Moneyed
people, contractors, real estate speculators will make large sums of
money. Indeed it is not at all unlikely that within a few months good
Christian capitalists will secretly thank their Lord that he sent the
earthquake.
[Illustration]
As an employer, the United States Government is certainly tolerant and
liberal, especially so far as the highly remunerative offices are
concerned.
The President, for instance, loves to deliver himself of moral sermons.
Recently he spoke of the people who criticise government and society and
breed discontent. He considers them dangerous and entertains little
regard for them. He ought not be blamed for that, since, as the first
clerk of the State, it is his duty to represent its interests and
dignity.
The most ordinary business agent, though he may be convinced of the
corruption of his firm, will take good care to keep this fact from the
public. Business morals demand it.
Besides, no one will expect or desire that the President should become a
Revolutionist. This would certainly be no gain of ours, nor would the
State suffer harm. Surely there are enough professional politicians who
do not lack talent for the calling of doorkeepers on a large scale.
As to the moral sermons against the undesirable and obnoxious element,
all that can be said, from a practical standpoint, is, that their
originality and wisdom are in no proportion to the salary the sermonizer
receives. Competition among preachers of penitence and servility is
almost as great as among patent medicine quacks. Four or five thousand a
year can easily buy the services of a corpulent, reverend gentleman of
some prominence.
[Illustration]
The dangers of the first of May, when France was to be ruined by the
"mob" of socialists and anarchists, was very fantastically described by
the Paris correspondents of the American newspapers. These gentlemen
seem to have known everything. They discovered that the cause of the
threatened revolution was to be found in the irresponsible good nature
and kindness of the French government.
Just show "Satan" Anarchy a finger, and straightway he will seize the
entire arm. Especially M. Clemenceau was severely censured as being
altogether too good a fellow to make a reliable minister. There he is
with France near the abyss of a social revolution! That is the manner in
which history is being manufactured for boarding-school young ladies.
The social revolution may come, but surely not because of the kindness
or good nature of the government. France needed a newspaper boom for her
elections: "The republic is in danger; for goodness' sake give us your
vote on election day!"
In order that the citizens might feel the proper horror, trade-union
leaders, anarchists and even a few royalistic scare-crows were arrested;
at the same time the sympathy and devotion of the government for its
people manifested itself in the reign of the military terror in the
strike regions.
The real seriousness of the situation, the correspondents failed to
grasp. How could they? since they got their wisdom in the ante-chamber
of the ministry.
The revolutionary labor organizations care little for the good will or
the Jesuit kindness of the authorities. They continue with their work,
propagate the idea of direct action, and strengthen the anti-military
movement, the result of which is already being felt among the soldiers
and officers.
The officer who jumped upon the platform at the Bourse du Travail,
expressing his solidarity with the workers and declaring that he would
not fire on them, was immediately arrested; but this will only influence
others to follow the good example.
[Illustration]
In the old fables the lion is described as supreme judge and not the
mule or the wether.
In Cleveland things are different. Several weeks ago Olga Nethersole
gave a performance of Sappho there. Whereupon the police felt moved to
perform an operation on the play, for moral reasons, of course. The
staircase scene was ordered to be left out altogether.
Ye poor, depraved artists, how low ye might sink, were the police and
Comstock not here to watch over the moral qualities of your productions!
If one observes one of these prosaic fellows on the corner, terribly
bored, and with his entire intellect concentrated on his club, and how
out of pure ennui he is constantly recapitulating the number of his
brass buttons, one can hardly realize that such an individual has been
entrusted with the power to decide the fate of an artistic production.
[Illustration]
1792 the French people marched through the streets singing:
O, what is it the people cry?
They ask for all equality.
The poor no more shall be
In slavish misery;
The idle rich shall flee.
O, what is it the people need?
They ask for bread and iron and lead.
The iron to win our pay,
The lead our foes to slay,
The bread our friends to feed.
The soldiers at Mount Carmel, Pennsylvania, who were ordered by their
superiors to fire into a crowd of strikers and wounded and killed
innocent men and women, do not sing the Carmagnole; they sing:
"My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of Liberty!"
If the ruling powers continue to maintain peace and order with iron and
blood it may happen that the meaningless national hymn may be drowned by
the Carmagnole, pealing forth like thunder from the throats of the
masses.
[Illustration]
To the credit of human nature be it said, it is not altogether hopeless.
Since tyranny has existed, human nature has ever rebelled against it.
Real slavery exists only when the oppressed consider their fate as
something normal, something self-evident.
There is greater security for tyranny in slavish thoughts, indifference
and pettiness than in cannons and swords.
[Illustration]
"THIS MAN GORKY."
By MARGARET GRANT.
THE women of America are aroused as never before. They always are
aroused to the defense of their firesides. Even those women who live in
flats are awake to the need for defending their radiators or their gas
stoves; it is inherent in the nature of woman, it seems.
Most of the women's societies and clubs have spoken in no uncertain
terms concerning the outrage that has been put upon the civilization of
this great country by the conduct of this man Gorky. And, in fact, it is
a thing not to be borne.
As for me, I belong to the Woman's Association for the Regulation of the
Morals of Others, a society which is second to none in its activity and
usefulness, but which has seen fit to defer its own discussion of this
man Gorky's conduct until most of the other women's societies have
spoken.
We have just had our meeting, and I think that if this man Gorky should
read an account of our proceedings, he would certainly get out of this
outraged country with all the celerity of which he is capable. But, of
course, he is only a foreigner after all and probably will not
comprehend the exquisite purity of our morals.
I want to say that in our meetings we do not slavishly follow those
parliamentary rules which men have made for their guidance, but allow
ourselves some latitude in discussion. And we do not invite some man to
come and do all the talking, as is the case in some women's clubs.
Mrs. Blanderocks was in the chair. We began with an informal discussion
of the best way of preventing the common people from dressing so as not
to be distinguished from the upper classes, but there was no heart in
the talk, for we all felt that it was only preliminary. It was my friend
Sarah Warner who changed the subject.
"The Woman's State Republican Association held its annual meeting at
Delmonico's yesterday," she said, quietly drawing a newspaper clipping
from her pocket-book.
"And had some men there to amuse them and to tell them what to do," said
Mrs. Blanderocks with cutting irony.
We all laughed heartily. We meet at Mrs. Blanderocks' house, and she
always provides a beautiful luncheon.
"But Mrs. Flint said some things that I would like to read to you," said
Sarah. "It won't take long. I cut this out of the 'Times' this morning."
"What is it about?" some one asked.
"Gorky," Sarah answered, closing her eyes in a way to express volumes.
You could hear all the members catch their breath. This was what they
had come for. I broke the oppressive silence.
"I foresee," I said, "that in the discussion of this subject there will
be said things likely to bring a blush to the cheek of innocence, and I
move that all unmarried women under the age of twenty-five be excluded
from the meeting for as long as this man is under discussion."
A fierce cry of rage rose from all parts of the crowded room. I did not
understand. I could see no one who would be affected by the rule. Mrs.
Blanderocks raised her hand to command silence and said coldly:
"The motion is out of order. By a special provision of our constitution
it is the inalienable right of all unmarried women to be under
twenty-five. We will be as careful in our language as the subject will
permit. Mrs. Warner will please read the words of Mrs. Flint."
I was shocked to think I had made such a mistake. Sarah rose and read in
a clear, sharp voice from the clipping:
"
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WITH SACK AND STOCK IN ALASKA
PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE LONDON
WITH SACK AND STOCK
IN ALASKA
BY
GEORGE BROKE, A.C., F.R.G.S.
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET
1891
_All rights reserved_
Dedicated
TO THE MEMORY OF
A⸺ M⸺
KILLED ON THE DÜSSISTOCK
AUGUST 16, 1890
PREFACE
The publishing of these simple notes is due to the wishes of one who is
now no more. But for this they would probably have never seen the light,
and I feel therefore that less apology is needed for their crudeness and
‘diariness’ than would otherwise have been the case.
G. B.
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
LONDON TO SITKA
The summons—Across the Atlantic in the ‘Polynesian’—A deceitful
car-conductor—The C.P.R.—At Victoria—On the ‘Ancon’—Fort
Wrangel—Juneau—Sitka 1
CHAPTER II
SITKA TO YAKUTAT
The town—Ascent of Sha-klokh—Expedition to Edgcumbe—Dick’s
dismissal—Enlisting recruits—Ascent of Verstovia—Arrival of
W.—On board the ‘Alpha’—Miserable weather—Run ashore at Yakutat 20
CHAPTER III
OPENING APPROACHES
Getting canoes and men—A false start—Icy Bay—Torrents of
rain—On march—The Yahkhtze-tah-heen—A wet camp—More wading—Our
forces—Camp on the glacier—Across the ice—The Chaix Hills 37
CHAPTER IV
AN ATTACK AND A COUNTERMARCH
A long lie—Men return to the beach—We make a
cache—Shifting camp—The Libbey Glacier—The south-east
face of St. Elias—Right-about-turn—Lake Castani—The Guyot
Glacier—Reappearance of the men—Wild-geese for supper 61
CHAPTER V
FURTHER ADVANCE AND MY RETREAT
Across the Tyndall Glacier—Ptarmigan—Another bear—The Daisy and
Coal Glaciers—A catastrophe—The others go on—Alone with Billy
and Jimmy—More geese—The blue bear—Marmot hunting 81
CHAPTER VI
BACK TO THE SHORE
Ptarmigan with a revolver—Back to Camp G—The others
return—Their narrative—The men turn up again—We start down—A
wasp’s nest—Mosquitoes—Wading extraordinary—We leave Icy Bay—A
luxurious breakfast 99
CHAPTER VII
LIFE AT YAKUTAT
Curio-hunting—Small plover—W. goes down on the ‘Active’—Siwash
dogs—A great potlatch—Cricket under difficulties—No signs of
the ‘Alpha’—I determine to go down in a canoe—The white men
accompany me 122
CHAPTER VIII
YAKUTAT TO SITKA
Farewells—A drunken skipper—Cape Fairweather—Loss of our
frying-pan—Mount Fairweather and its glaciers—Murphy’s
Cove—Stuck at Cape Spencer—Salmon and sour-dough bread—We reach
Cape Edwardes—The ‘Pinta’—Safe back—Height of St. Elias 137
_MAPS_
COAST OF PART OF SOUTH-EASTERN ALASKA, SHOWING THE ST. ELIAS
ALPS _To face p._ 1
THE SOUTHERN <DW72>s OF MOUNT ST. ELIAS 〃 61
[Illustration: COAST OF part of SOUTH-EASTERN ALASKA showing the ST.
ELIAS ALPS.
_Longmans, Green & Co., London & New York. F.S. Weller._]
WITH SACK AND STOCK IN ALASKA
CHAPTER I
LONDON TO SITKA
On the twenty-fifth of April, 1888, I was playing golf on our little
links at home, and had driven off for the Stile Hole, situated on the
lawn-tennis ground, when I observed the butler emerge from the house
with an orange envelope in his hand, and come towards me across the
lawn. Having with due deliberation played a neat approach shot over the
railings on to the green, I climbed over after it, putted out the hole,
and then went to meet him. The telegram proved to be from my friend
Harold T., with whom at Saas in the previous summer I had discussed
Seton-Karr’s book on Alaska, and we had both come to the conclusion that
we should much like to go there. Finding that I should have the summer
of ’88 at my disposal, I had written to him at the end of March to ask
about his plans and now got this telegram in reply. It was sent from
Victoria, B.C., and was an urgent appeal to join him and his brother at
once, as they meant to make an attempt on Mount St. Elias that summer,
and must start northward by the end of May. I retired to the smoking-room
to consider the situation, and finally came to the conclusion that such a
hurried departure might be managed.
I crossed over to Brussels, where I was then posted, packed up all my
goods and chattels, left masses of P.P.C. cards, and returned again
three days later. The afternoon of May 11 found me on board the Allan
liner ‘Polynesian’ at Liverpool. I was fortunate in making some very
charming acquaintances among the few saloon passengers on board, and
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PATTY'S SUCCESS
by
CAROLYN WELLS
Author Of
Two Little Women Series,
The Marjorie Series, Etc.
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers New York
Copyright, 1910
by Dodd, Mead and Company
Printed in U.S.A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Welcome Home 9
II An Advance Christmas Gift 23
III The Day Before Christmas 36
IV A Splendid Tree 50
V Skating and Dancing 65
VI A Fair Proposition 80
VII Department G 93
VIII Embroidered Blossoms 109
IX Slips and Sleeves 124
X The Clever Goldfish 139
XI A Busy Morning 154
XII Three Hats 169
XIII The Thursday Club 181
XIV Mrs. Van Reypen 197
XV Persistent Philip 211
XVI An Invitation Declined 227
XVII The Road to Success 243
XVIII Home Again 257
XIX Christine Comes 271
XX A Satisfactory Conclusion 284
PATTY'S SUCCESS
CHAPTER I
WELCOME HOME
"I do think waiting for a steamer is the horridest, pokiest performance
in the world! You never know when they're coming, no matter how much they
sight them and signal them and wireless them!"
Mrs. Allen was not pettish, and she spoke half laughingly, but she was
wearied with her long wait for the _Mauretania_, in which she expected
her daughter, Nan, and, incidentally, Mr. Fairfield and Patty.
"There, there, my dear," said her husband, soothingly, "I think it will
soon arrive now."
"I think so, too," declared Kenneth Harper, who was looking down the
river through field-glasses. "I'm just sure I see that whale of a boat in
the dim distance, and I think I see Patty's yellow head sticking over the
bow."
"Do you?" cried Mrs. Allen eagerly; "do you see Nan?"
"I'm not positive that I do, but we soon shall know, for that's surely
the _Mauretania_."
It surely was, and though the last quarter hour of waiting seemed longer
than all the rest, at last the big ship was in front of them, and
swinging around in midstream. They could see the Fairfields clearly now,
but not being within hearing distance, they could only express their
welcome by frantic wavings of hands, handkerchiefs, and flags. But at
last the gangplank was put in place, and at last the Fairfields crossed
it, and then an enthusiastic and somewhat incoherent scene of reunion
followed.
Beside Mr. and Mrs. Allen and Kenneth Harper, Roger and Elise Farrington
were there to meet the home-comers, and the young people seized on Patty
as if they would never let her go again.
"My! but you've grown!" said Kenneth, looking at her admiringly; "I mean
you're grown-up looking, older, you know."
"I'm only a year older," returned Patty, laughing, "and you're that,
yourself!"
"Why, so I am. But you've changed somehow,--I don't know just how."
Honest Kenneth looked so puzzled that Elise laughed at him and said:
"Nonsense, Ken, it's her clothes. She has a foreign effect, but it will
soon wear off in New York. I _am_ glad to see you again, Patty; we didn't
think it would be so long when we parted in Paris last Spring."
"No, indeed; and I'm glad to be home again, though I have had a terribly
good time. Now, I suppose we must see about our luggage."
"Yes," said Roger, "you'll be sorry you brought so many fine clothes when
you have to pay duty on them."
"Well, duty first, and pleasure afterward," said Kenneth. "Come on,
Patty, I'll help you."
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Allen, "must we wait for all this custom-house
botheration? I'm so tired of waiting."
"No, you needn't," said Mr. Fairfield, kindly. "You and Nan and Mr. Allen
jump in a taxicab and go home. I'll keep Patty with me, and any other
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E-text prepared by Josep Cols Canals, Ramon Pajares Box, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
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Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 53489-h.htm or 53489-h.zip:
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(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53489/53489-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
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https://archive.org/details/lifeoflazarillod00markiala
Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capitals are represented in upper case as in
SMALL CAPS.
THE LIFE OF LAZARILLO DE TORMES
* * * * * *
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
AUSTRALASIA THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS, 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
* * * * * *
THE LIFE OF LAZARILLO DE TORMES
[Illustration: _Lazarillo begging._]
THE LIFE OF LAZARILLO DE TORMES
His Fortunes & Adversities
Translated from the Edition of 1554
(Printed at Burgos)
by
SIR CLEMENTS MARKHAM, K.C.B.
D.SC. (CAMB.)
With a Notice of the Mendoza Family,
a Short Life of the Author, Don Diego
Hurtado De Mendoza, a Notice of
the Work, and Some Remarks on the
Character of Lazarillo de Tormes
London
Adam and Charles Black
1908
ANALYTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS
INTRODUCTORY
THE FAMILY OF MENDOZA
PAGE
Descent of the author of Lazarillo de Tormes xv
A Mendoza saved the life of King Juan I. of Castille xvi
The poet Marquis of Santillana xvii
Children of the Marquis xviii
Counts of Tendilla xix
Antiquity of the family xxi
DON DIEGO HURTADO DE MENDOZA, AUTHOR OF “LAZARILLO DE TORMES”
Born in the Alhambra xxiii
At Salamanca xxiv
Services in Italy xxiv
Library xxiv
The “Guerra de Granada” xxv
Last days xxv
Death xxv
THE BOOK, “LAZARILLO DE TORMES”
Ticknor’s opinion xxvii
First edition xxvii
Value of copies xxviii
Spurious second parts xxviii
English translations xxix
NOTES ON THE CHARACTER OF LAZARO
His age coincides with the Author’s xxxi
Two destinies xxxii
Baneful surroundings as a child xxxiii
Good stories well told xxxiii
Higher qualities xxxv
Development of character xxxv
Merits of the work xxxvi
PROLOGUE
Lazaro’s reason for relating all the circumstances of
his life 1
Motives _not_ to gain money but to win fame 2
Success of the poor should be a lesson to the rich 3
I
LAZARO RELATES THE WAY OF HIS BIRTH AND TELLS WHOSE SON HE IS
Parentage of Lazaro 4
Reason of his surname 4
Death of father. Mother in service 6
Stepfather. Little brown brother 6
Living on stolen goods 7
Helps at the inn 8
FIRST MASTER
HOW LAZARO TOOK SERVICE WITH A BLIND MAN
Service with the blind man 11
Farewell to his mother 11
Cruel trick of the blind man 12
Sagacity of the blind man 15
The blind man’s resources and avarice 16
Inside of the knaps
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Transcriber's Note
This Plain Text version uses characters from the Latin-1 character set
only. Italic typeface is indicated by the use of _underscores_. Small
caps typeface is rendered as ALL CAPS.
There is one instance of an oe-ligature symbol which is shown as [oe].
Footnotes are numbered sequentially and are presented at the end of the
e-book.
* * * * *
A CHAPTER OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
A
CHAPTER OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
BY
THE RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE.
"Blame not, before thou hast examined the truth: understand
first, and then rebuke."--ECCLESIASTICUS, ch. ii.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1868.
_The right of Translation is reserved._
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, DUKE STREET, STAMFORD
STREET, AND CHARING CROSS.
INTRODUCTION.
At a time when the Established Church of Ireland is on her trial, it is
not unfair that her assailants should be placed upon their trial too:
most of all, if they have at one time been her sanguine defenders.
But if not the matter of the indictment against them, at any rate that
of their defence, should be kept apart, as far as they are concerned,
from the public controversy, that it may not darken or perplex the
greater issue.
It is in the character of the author of a book called 'The State in
its Relations with the Church,' that I offer these pages to those who
may feel a disposition to examine them. They were written at the date
attached to them; but their publication has been delayed until after
the stress of the General Election.
A CHAPTER OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
Autobiography is commonly interesting; but there can, I suppose, be
little doubt that, as a general rule, it should be posthumous. The
close of an active career supplies an obvious exception: for this
resembles the gentle death which, according to ancient fable, was
rather imparted than inflicted by the tender arrows of Apollo and of
Artemis. I have asked myself many times, during the present year,
whether peculiar combinations of circumstance might not also afford a
warrant at times for departure from the general rule, so far as some
special passage of life is concerned; and whether I was not myself now
placed in one of those special combinations.
The motives, which incline me to answer these questions in the
affirmative, are mainly two. First, that the great and glaring
change in my course of action with respect to the Established Church
of Ireland is not the mere eccentricity, or even perversion, of an
individual mind, but connects itself with silent changes, which are
advancing in the very bed and basis of modern society. Secondly, that
the progress of a great cause, signal as it has been and is, appears
liable nevertheless to suffer in point of credit, if not of energy and
rapidity, from the real or supposed delinquencies of a person, with
whose name for the moment it happens to be specially associated.
One thing is clear: that if I am warranted in treating my own case as
an excepted case, I am bound so to treat it. It is only with a view to
the promotion of some general interest, that the public can becomingly
be invited to hear more, especially in personal history, about an
individual, of whom they already hear too much. But if it be for the
general interest to relieve 'an enterprise of pith and moment' from the
odium of baseness, and from the lighter reproach of precipitancy, I
must make the attempt; though the obtrusion of the first person, and of
all that it carries in its train, must be irksome alike to the reader
and the writer.
So far, indeed, as my observation has gone, the Liberal party of this
country have stood fire unflinchingly under the heavy vollies which
have been fired into its camp with ammunition that had been drawn
from depositories full only with matter personal to myself. And, with
the confidence they entertain in the justice and wisdom of the policy
they recommend, it would have been weak and childish to act otherwise.
Still, I should be glad to give them the means of knowing that the case
may not after all be so scandalous as they are told. In the year 1827,
if I remember right, when Mr. Canning had just become Prime Minister,
an effort was made to
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Transcriber’s notes:
The text of this e-book has been preserved in its original form
apart from correction of several typographic errors: (rog → frog,
arrranged → arranged, downword → downward, and → of (in journal title),
developes → develops). Inconsistent use of accents and hyphenation, and
inconsistent spelling, e.g. referable/referrible, has not been altered.
Several redundant parentheses have been deleted. Paragraphs of quoted
text on pp. 17–19 are incomplete and/or paraphrased (compared with the
original source); ellipsis dots have been inserted to indicate text
omissions, and quotation marks inserted where they were lacking.
Some illustrations have been moved nearer to the relevant text and
their location therefore does not necessarily correspond to that
shown in the List of Illustrations. Footnotes have been numbered and
positioned below the relevant parapraphs.
THE INTERNATIONAL SCIENTIFIC SERIES.
LIST OF THE VOLUMES ALREADY PUBLISHED.
*THE FORMS OF WATER IN RAIN AND RIVERS, ICE AND GLACIERS.* By J.
TYNDALL, LL.D., F.R.S. With 26 Illustrations. Third Edition. Crown
8vo. 5s.
“One of Professor Tyndall’s best scientific treatises.”--_Standard._
“With the clearness and brilliancy of language which have won
for him his fame, he considers the subject of ice, snow, and
glaciers.”--_Morning Post._
“Before starting for Switzerland next summer every one should study
‘The Forms of Water.’”--_Globe._
“Eloquent and instructive in an eminent degree.”--_British Quarterly._
*PHYSICS AND POLITICS*; or, THOUGHTS ON THE APPLICATION OF THE
PRINCIPLES OF “NATURAL SELECTION” AND “INHERITANCE” TO POLITICAL
SOCIETY. By WALTER BAGEHOT. Crown 8vo. Second Edition. 4s.
“We can recommend the book as well deserving to be read by thoughtful
students of politics.”--_Saturday Review._
“Able and ingenious.”--_Spectator._
“A work of really original and interesting speculation.”--_Guardian._
*FOODS.* By Dr. EDWARD SMITH. Profusely Illustrated. Second Edition.
Price 5s.
“A comprehensive résumé of our present chemical and physiological
knowledge of the various foods, solid and liquid, which go so far to
ameliorate the troubles and vexations of this anxious and wearying
existence.”--_Chemist and Druggist._
“Heads of households will find it considerably to their advantage to
study its contents.”--_Court Express._
“A very comprehensive book. Every page teems with information. Readable
throughout.”--_Church Herald._
*MIND AND BODY*: THE THEORIES OF THEIR RELATIONS. By ALEXANDER BAIN,
LL.D., Professor of Logic at the University of Aberdeen. Four
Illustrations. Second Edition. 4s.
*THE STUDY OF SOCIOLOGY.* By HERBERT SPENCER. Crown 8vo. Second
Edition. Price 5s.
*ON THE CONSERVATION OF ENERGY.* By Professor BALFOUR STEWART.
Fourteen Engravings. Price 5s.
*ANIMAL MECHANICS: or, Walking, Swimming, and Flying.* By Dr. J. B.
PETTIGREW, M.D. F.R S. 130 Illustrations. Price 5s.
*RESPONSIBILITY IN MENTAL DISEASE.* By Dr. HENRY MAUDSLEY.
*THE ANIMAL FRAME.* By Prof. E. J. MAREY. 119 Illustrations. Crown
8vo. Price 5s.
*THE NEW CHEMISTRY.* By Prof. JOSIAH P. COOKE, of the Harvard
University. Numerous Engravings. Price 5s.
☞ For List of forthcoming Volumes, see end of the book.
HENRY S. KING & CO. 65 CORNHILL, and 12 PATERNOSTER ROW.
[Illustration:
_C. Berjeau_ _W. Ballingall_
WALKING, SWIMMING, AND FLYING.]
ANIMAL LOCOMOTION
OR
WALKING, SWIMMING, AND FLYING,
WITH A DISSERTATION ON
AËRONAUTICS.
BY
J. BELL PETTIGREW, M.D. F.R.S. F.R.S.E. F.R.C.P.E.
PATHOLOGIST TO THE ROYAL INFIRMARY OF EDINBURGH; CURATOR OF THE
MUSEUM OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS OF EDINBURGH;
Extraordinary Member and late President of the Royal Medical Society
of Edinburgh; Croonian Lecturer to the Royal Society of London for
1860; Lecturer to the Royal Institution of Great Britain and Russell
Institution, 1867; Lecturer to the Royal College of Surgeons of
Edinburgh, 1872; Author of numerous Memoirs on Physiological Subjects
in the Philosophical and other Transactions, etc. etc. etc.
_ILLUSTRATED BY 130 ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD._
HENRY S. KING & CO.
65 CORNHILL, AND 12 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.
1873.
[Illustration:
(_All Rights reserved._)]
PREFACE.
In the present volume I have endeavoured to explain, in simple
language, some difficult problems in “Animal Mechanics.” In order to
avoid elaborate descriptions, I have introduced a large number of
original Drawings and Diagrams, copied for the most part from my Papers
and Memoirs “On Flight,” and other forms of “Animal Progression.” I
have drawn from the same sources many of the facts to be found in
the present work. My best thanks are due to Mr. W. Ballingall, of
Edinburgh, for the highly artistic and effective manner in which he has
engraved the several subjects. The figures, I am happy to state, have
in no way deteriorated in his hands.
ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS OF EDINBURGH,
_July 1873_.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
ANIMAL LOCOMOTION.
INTRODUCTION.
PAGE
Motion associated with the life and well-being of animals, 1
Motion not confined to the animal kingdom; all matter in
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See 30589-h.htm or 30589-h.zip:
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Transcriber's note:
Hyphenation has been made consistent.
Archaic and variable spellings are preserved.
The author's punctuation style is preserved, except quotation
marks, which have been standardized.
Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
Text in bold face is enclosed by equal signs (=bold=).
THE CONTINENTAL DRAGOON.
by
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ROUND THE RED LAMP
BEING FACTS AND FANCIES OF MEDICAL LIFE
By SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
THE PREFACE.
[Being an extract from a long and animated correspondence with a friend
in America.]
I quite recognise the force of your objection that an invalid or a
woman in weak health would get no good from stories which attempt to
treat some features of medical life with a certain amount of realism.
If you deal with this life at all, however, and if you are anxious to
make your doctors something more than marionettes, it is quite
essential that you should paint the darker side, since it is that which
is principally presented to the surgeon or physician. He sees many
beautiful things, it is true, fortitude and heroism, love and
self-sacrifice; but they are all called forth (as our nobler qualities
are always called forth) by bitter sorrow and trial. One cannot write
of medical life and be merry over it.
Then why write of it, you may ask? If a subject is painful why treat
it at all? I answer that it is the province of fiction to treat
painful things as well as cheerful ones. The story which wiles away a
weary hour fulfils an obviously good purpose, but not more so, I hold,
than that which helps to emphasise the graver side of life. A tale
which may startle the reader out of his usual grooves of thought, and
shocks him into seriousness, plays the part of the alterative and tonic
in medicine, bitter to the taste but bracing in the result. There are
a few stories in this little collection which might have such an
effect, and I have so far shared in your feeling that I have reserved
them from serial publication. In book-form the reader can see that
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BLUE-STOCKING HALL.
J. D. NICHOLS, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET.
BLUE-STOCKING HALL.
“From woman’s eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world.”
LOVE’S LABOUR LOST.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1827.
BLUE-STOCKING HALL.
LETTER XXVII.
FREDERICK TO EMILY DOUGLAS.
This, my dearest Emily, is the last letter which you will receive from
Frederick in London; and though time speeds on rapid wing in this focus
of attraction, I reckon the days with impatience till the heath-clad
tops of our dear mountains break upon my view. To travel, and see new
men and manners, would be too delightful, if mother and sisters were
with me, but, unfashionable as the confession may be, I own to the
_weakness_ of loving mine enough to make me wish to be always near
them. In a few days we are to set out, and Arthur starts for France,
when we turn our faces towards Glenalta. I fear that my uncle is not
gaining ground; there is a consultation every day, but it seems to me
as if many of these great doctors make up in _mannerism_ of one sort
or other what they want in penetration. One assumes a rough tone, and
thinks it for his advantage to act the brute, in order to assure his
patients that he is an honest man. Another looks as smooth as satin
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RURAL PROBLEMS OF TODAY
RURAL PROBLEMS OF TODAY
ERNEST R. GROVES
_Author of "Moral Sanitation," "Using the Resources of
the Country Church," etc._
ASSOCIATION PRESS
NEW YORK: 124 EAST 28TH STREET
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
THE INTERNATIONAL COMMITTEE OF
THE YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATIONS
TO
GLADYS HOAGLAND
WHOSE UNSELFISH AND INTELLIGENT CARE OF
CATHERINE AND ERNESTINE
HAS JUSTIFIED THE ABSOLUTE CONFIDENCE
OF THEIR MOTHER
PREFACE
This book is written for the men and women who love the country and are
interested in its social welfare. Fortunately there are many such, and
each year their number is increasing.
Rural life has as many sides as there are human interests. This book
looks out upon country-life conditions from a viewpoint comparatively
neglected. It attempts to approach rural social life from the
psychological angle. The purpose of the book forces it from the
well-beaten pathways, but this effort to give emphasis to the mental
side of rural problems is not an attempt to discount the other
significant aspects of the rural environment. The field of rural service
is large enough to contain all who desire by serious study to advance at
some point the happiness, prosperity, and wholesomeness that belong by
social right to those who live and work in the country.
The author desires to thank the following for the privilege of using
material previously published: American Sociological Society, _American
Journal of Sociology_, National Conference of Social Work, Association
Press, and _Rural Manhood_.
E. R. G.
Durham, N. H.
April 1, 1918.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE vii
I. THE RURAL WORKER AND THE COUNTRY HOME 1
II. THE FAMILY IN OUR COUNTRY LIFE 15
III. THE RURAL WORKER AND THE COUNTRY SCHOOLS 41
IV. THE COUNTRY CHURCH AND THE RURAL WORKER 53
V. MENTAL HYGIENE IN RURAL DISTRICTS 71
VI. THE SOCIAL VALUE OF RURAL EXPERIENCE 89
VII. RURAL VS. URBAN ENVIRONMENT 103
VIII. THE MIND OF THE FARMER 117
IX. PSYCHIC CAUSES OF RURAL MIGRATION 135
X. RURAL SOCIALIZING AGENCIES 149
XI. THE WORLD-WAR AND RURAL LIFE 169
THE RURAL WORKER AND THE COUNTRY HOME
I
THE RURAL WORKER AND THE COUNTRY HOME
With reference to the care of children, faulty homes may be divided into
two classes. There are homes that give the children too little care and
there are homes that give them too much. The failure of the first type
of home is obvious. Children need a great deal of wise, patient, and
kindly care. Even the lower animals require, when domesticated,
considerable care from their owners, if they are to be successfully
brought from infancy to maturity. Of course children need greater care.
No one doubts this. And yet it is certainly true that there are, even in
these days of widespread intelligence, many homes where the children
obtain too little care and in one way or another are seriously
neglected.
The harmfulness of the homes that give their children too much care is
not so generally realized as is the danger of the careless and selfish
home, although, in a general way, everyone acknowledges that children
may be given too much attention. The difficulty is to determine when a
particular child is being given too much adult supervision and too
little freedom. No one would question the fact that a child can become
an adult only by a decrease of adult control and an increase of personal
responsibility. Nevertheless, in spite of a general belief that a child
needs an opportunity to win self-government, there are parents not a few
who, from love and anxiety, run into the danger of protecting and
controlling their children too much. The father or mother spends too
much time with the children. The children are pampered. Too many
indulgences are permitted them. Children in these over-careful homes are
likely to grow up neurotic, conceited, timid, babyish, daydreaming men
and women, who are of little use in the world and are often a serious
problem for normal people. Probably this second type of a deficient home
is more dangerous than the first, for children without sufficient home
care often discover a substitute for their loss, but the over-protected
children can obtain no antidote for their misfortune.
Everyone knows that attacks are increasingly being made upon the home in
its present form by people who regard it as inefficient or as an
anachronism. It is usually thought, however, that these attacks come
mostly from agitators who set themselves more or less in opposition to
all the institutions established by the present social order. Perhaps
for this reason many do not believe that the family is receiving any
serious criticism and its satisfactory functioning is therefore taken
for granted. Such an easy-going optimism is not justified, for criticism
of the home is coming from science as well as from the agitators. For
example read "The Deforming Influences of the Home," by Dr. Helen W.
Brown, which appeared in the _Journal of Abnormal Psychology_ for April,
1917. She writes in one place as follows:
"Small wonder, then, if we begin to see that many of the mental ills
that afflict men are not due, as has been commonly supposed, to lack of
home training and the deteriorating influence of the world, but to too
much home, to a narrow environment which has often deformed his mind at
the start and given him a bias that can only be overcome through painful
adjustments and bitter experience."
The psychoanalysts and the clinic psychologists are gathering material
all the time that illustrates the bad results of home influences, and
soon the agitator will be using this as proof of the harmfulness of the
home as an institution. Some of us believe that no skepticism can be
more dangerous socially than that relating to the value of the home. The
best protection of the home must come from its moral efficiency and this
cannot be obtained if people are unwilling to face reasonable and
constructive criticism of the present working of the home. It is natural
for the adult looking backward to his childhood to assume too much for
the home, and then to transfer his emotion and his sense of the value of
his home experience to the present family as an institution. With this
enormous prejudice he refuses to see how often the family influence is
morally and socially bad. It would surprise such a person at least to
read an article like Emerson's "The Psychopathology of the Family" which
recently appeared in _The Journal of Abnormal Psychology_. Material
showing the unhappy results of inefficient family influences may be
found in nearly any number of the _Psychoanalytic Review_.
There appear to be three causes of the unwholesomeness of home
influences: lack of competition between homes, insufficient science
regarding the home problems, and the pleasure basis of family
organization.
First: There is no competition between homes. This is a most strikingly
peculiar situation. The home is competed against by other institutions,
such as the saloon, the moving picture, and the like, but as between
homes there is no competition whatever. Home life is a private affair.
Public opinion rules that it remain private. Nothing is sooner or more
seriously resented than interference with or criticism of the home life
of the individual. Professional men, such as doctors, lawyers, and
ministers, and business men compete with one another, and from this
competition comes constant, sane change and progress. But in the home,
there being no competition, methods of home management, however bad, go
on without change. Parents never realize their habitual carelessness in
home life. The scientists are seeking to bring some sort of competition
into home life, but they are under a very heavy handicap. In fact this
handicap is greater now than formerly, for our forefathers made long
visits with each other, sometimes staying for weeks in one home, thus
giving ample opportunity for valuable criticisms and suggestions from
guest to host.
Second: Bringing up children is really a scientific task and requires
scientific information. But to obtain scientific information of
practical value relating to the home is a baffling proposition. Human
instincts and child development have been studied very little. We have
theorized a great deal about such problems, but we have a remarkably
small fund of actual accurate information. Such knowledge as we have
recorded has been mostly obtained by parents, who have, of course, been
prejudiced. In such cases we seldom know the later history of the child
or the character of the home management and the actual contribution that
the home made as compared with other influences. Men who have had to
consider the entire history of an individual, who comes to the mind
specialist for treatment because of some abnormality of mental or moral
character, are gathering a great deal of valuable material regarding
family influences, but much of this is in regard to men and women who in
one way or another have been social failures. We have no material at
present of equal value in regard to the persons who in a popular sense
are "normal individuals." Such valuable information as we already have,
we are not very seriously trying to distribute. Yet, fortunately, a
beginning has been made and the entire problem is receiving an attention
that it has never before had.
Third: People are finding it difficult to accept the responsibilities
that belong to family life. Modern men and women more and more are
basing the home upon pleasure and comfort and personal advantages in a
narrow and thoughtless sense. When the crucial tests of family fitness
come with the children, the parents fail. They have had little specific
training for their greatest obligation and under such circumstances it
is strange only that so often they do not greatly fail. Children are
often unwelcome when they come into the home. Their coming disturbs the
easy-going pleasure regime of the household and as they become somewhat
of a burden to the father and mother, their interests are compromised,
that their parents may continue to have some of the freedom which they
enjoyed before the children came. Imagination cannot prepare for
experience in such a degree as to make it possible for those who marry
to realize the possible responsibilities of their choice. Because of
this they often are found to have undertaken tasks against which in
their heart of hearts they protest. It is natural for them, with such an
internal dissatisfaction, not to commit themselves fully or sufficiently
to the needs of their children.
Of one fact there is no doubt. Modern science is all the time
illustrating that early childhood, the period when the influence of
parents counts most, is the most significant of all the life
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Castles and Chateaux of Old Touraine
and the Loire Country
_WORKS OF FRANCIS MILTOUN_
_The following, each 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth, gilt top,
profusely illustrated, $2.50_
_Rambles on the Riviera_
_Rambles in Normandy_
_Rambles in Brittany_
_The Cathedrals and Churches of the Rhine_
_The Cathedrals of Northern France_
_The Cathedrals of Southern France_
_The Cathedrals of Italy_ (_In preparation_)
_The following, 1 vol., square octavo, cloth, gilt top, profusely
illustrated. $3.00_
_Castles and Chateaux of Old Touraine and the Loire Country_
_L. C. PAGE & COMPANY New England Building, Boston, Mass._
[Illustration: A PEASANT GIRL OF TOURAINE]
Castles and Chateaux
OF
OLD TOURAINE
AND THE LOIRE COUNTRY
BY FRANCIS MILTOUN
Author of "Rambles in Normandy," "Rambles in Brittany,"
"Rambles on the Riviera," etc.
_With Many Illustrations
Reproduced from paintings made on the spot_
BY BLANCHE MCMANUS
[Illustration]
BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
1906
_Copyright, 1906_
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(Incorporated)
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, June, 1906
_COLONIAL PRESS_
_Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co._
_Boston, U. S. A._
[Illustration: Ed VELAY]
By Way of Introduction
This book is not the result of ordinary conventional rambles, of
sightseeing by day, and flying by night, but rather of leisurely
wanderings, for a somewhat extended period, along the banks of the Loire
and its tributaries and through the countryside dotted with those
splendid monuments of Renaissance architecture which have perhaps a more
appealing interest for strangers than any other similar edifices
wherever found.
Before this book was projected, the conventional tour of the chateau
country had been "done," Baedeker, Joanne and James's "Little Tour" in
hand. On another occasion Angers, with its almost inconceivably real
castellated fortress, and Nantes, with its memories of the "Edict" and
"La Duchesse Anne," had been tasted and digested _en route_ to a certain
little artist's village in Brittany.
On another occasion, when we were headed due south, we lingered for a
time in the upper valley, between "the little Italian city of Nevers"
and "the most picturesque spot in the world"--Le Puy.
But all this left certain ground to be covered, and certain gaps to be
filled, though the author's note-books were numerous and full to
overflowing with much comment, and the artist's portfolio was already
bulging with its contents.
So more note-books were bought, and, following the genial Mark Twain's
advice, another fountain pen and more crayons and sketch-books, and the
author and artist set out in the beginning of a warm September to fill
those gaps and to reduce, if possible, that series of rambles along the
now flat and now rolling banks of the broad blue Loire to something like
consecutiveness and uniformity; with what result the reader may judge.
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION v
I. A GENERAL SURVEY 1
II. THE ORLEANNAIS 30
III. THE BLAISOIS AND THE SOLOGNE 56
IV. CHAMBORD 94
V. CHEVERNY, BEAUREGARD, AND CHAUMONT 110
VI. TOURAINE: THE GARDEN SPOT OF FRANCE 128
VII. AMBOISE 148
VIII. CHENONCEAUX 171
IX. LOCHES 188
X. TOURS AND ABOUT THERE 203
XI. LUYNES AND LANGEAIS 221
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 93.
AUGUST 13, 1887.
AT THE OVAL.
SURREY _VERSUS_ NOTTS. AUGUST 1ST, 2ND, AND 3RD 1887.
(_By One of the Fifty Thousand._)
_Enthusiastic Surreyite loquitur_:--
[Illustration: Lo! man!]
[Illustration: Shrews--bery!]
[Illustration: Gunn and Barnes.]
_Hooray!_ Oh, you _must_ let me holloa. I'm one of the famed "Surrey
Crowd,"
And a roar for a win such as _this_ is, can_not_ be too long or too loud.
Won by four wickets! As good as though WALTER had scored half a million,
Great Scott! what a rush from the ring! what a crowd round the crowded
Pavilion!
LOHMANN! MAURICE READ!! SHUTER!!! they shouted. KEY!!! KEY!!! LOHMANN!!!
LOHMANN!!!
"Took down the number" of Notts, Sir, and _she's_ a redoubtable foeman.
_We_ haven't licked her for years, and she crowed, Sir, and not without
reason;
And now, under SHUTER, we've done it at last, Sir, and twice in one
season!
After a terrible tussle; how oft was my heart in my mouth, Sir.
Luck now seemed to lean to the North, and anon would incline to the
South, Sir.
Game wasn't won till 'twas lost. Hooray, though, for Surrey! 'Twas _her_
win.
We missed our WOOD at the wicket, Notts squared it by missing her
SHERWIN,
Both with smashed fingers! Rum luck! But then cricketing luck _is_ a
twister.
And SHERWIN turned up second innings. _Did_ you twig his face when he
missed her,
That ball from J. SHUTER, our Captain? It ranked pretty high among
matches,
But Surrey _did_ make _some_ mistakes, Sir, and Notts----well, they
_couldn't_ hold catches.
SHUTER shone up, did he not? Forty-four, fifty-three, and _such_ cutting!
Hooray! Here's his jolly good health, and look sharp, for they're close
upon shutting.
Partial be blowed! I'm a Surreyite down to my socks, that's a fact, Sir.
_Must_ shout when my countymen score, and don't mind being caught in the
act, Sir.
Cracks didn't somehow come off. ARTHUR SHREWSBURY, Notts' great nonsuch,
Didn't make fifty all told, and our WALTER--the world holds but _one_
such--
A poor twenty-five and eighteen--a mere fleabite for W. W.
Still, he's our glory; and _if_ you can spot such another, I'll trouble
you.
_GRACE?_ Why, of course, in his day he was cock of the walk--that's a
moral.
I won't say a word against _him_; but our WALTER!--well, there, we won't
quarrel.
I'm Surrey, you know, as I said. I remember JUPP, HUMPHRY, and STEVENSON,
Burly BEN GRIFFITH, and SOUTHERTON! Well, if it ever was evens on
Match, it was surely on _this_ one. Oh, yes, _I_ gave points, six to
five, Sir,
But then I have always backed Surrey, and _will_ do so whilst I'm alive,
Sir.
And t'other was Notts, don't you see, so _I_ couldn't well show the white
feather.
Ah! well, 'twas a wonderful match; such a crowd, such a game, and such
weather!
K. J. K. (that's Mr. KEY) showed remarkably promising cricket--
I _did_ feel a little bit quisby when SHERWIN snapped him at the wicket.
'Twas getting too close, Sir, for comfort; two hundred and five takes
some making--
When BARNES nicked READ, SHUTER, and HENDERSON, 'gad, there were lots of
hearts quaking.
Seventy-eight for a win, Sir, and five of our best wickets levelled.
Notts then began to pick up, and I own I felt rather blue-devilled;
But Surrey has got a rare team, and you see, when the toppers do fail,
Sir,
They look at it this way, my boy,--there is all the more chance for the
"tail," Sir.
That's what I call true cricket pluck, and so, even when MAURICE READ
quitted him,
That's what young LOHMANN perceived; the place wanted cool
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SYLVIE:
SOUVENIRS DU VALOIS
TRANSLATED FROM
GERARD DE NERVAL
BY
LUCIE PAGE
Portland, Maine
THOMAS B. MOSHER
1896
* * * * *
GERARD DE NERVAL.
Of all that were thy prisons--ah, untamed,
Ah, light and sacred soul!--none holds thee now;
No wall, no bar, no body of flesh, but thou
Art free and happy in the lands unnamed,
Within whose gates, on weary wings and maimed,
Thou still would'st bear that mystic golden bough
The Sybil doth to singing men allow,
Yet thy report folk heeded not, but blamed.
And they would smile and wonder, seeing where
Thou stood'st, to watch light leaves, or clouds, or wind,
Dreamily murmuring a ballad air,
Caught from the Valois peasants, dost thou find
A new life gladder than the old times were,
A love more fair than Sylvie, and as kind?
ANDREW LANG.
* * * * *
CONTENTS
SYLVIE ET AURELIE.--ANDREW LANG
GERARD DE NERVAL
SYLVIE:
I A WASTED NIGHT
II ADRIENNE
III RESOLVE
IV A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA
V THE VILLAGE
VI OTHYS
VII CHAALIS
VIII THE BALL AT LOISY
IX HERMENONVILLE
X BIG CURLY-HEAD
XI RETURN
XII FATHER DODU
XIII AURELIE
XIV THE LAST LEAF
APPENDIX
_SYLVIE ET AURELIE._
_IN MEMORY OF GERARD DE NERVAL._
_Two loves there were, and one was born_
_Between the sunset and the rain;_
_Her singing voice went through the corn,_
_Her dance was woven 'neath the thorn,_
_On grass the fallen blossoms stain;_
_And suns may set and moons may wane,_
_But this love comes no more again._
_There were two loves, and one made white_
_Thy singing lips and golden hair;_
_Born of the city's mire and light,_
_The shame and splendour of the night,_
_She trapped and fled thee unaware;_
_Not through the lamplight and the rain_
_Shalt thou behold this love again._
_Go forth and seek, by wood and bill,_
_Thine ancient love of dawn and dew;_
_There comes no voice from mere or rill,_
_Her dance is over, fallen still_
_The ballad burdens that she knew:_
_And thou must wait for her in vain,_
_Till years bring back thy youth again._
_That other love, afield, afar_
_Fled the light love, with lighter feet._
_Nay, though thou seek where gravesteads are,_
_And flit in dreams from star to star,_
_That dead love thou shalt never meet,_
_Till through bleak dawn and blowing rain_
_Thy soul shall find her soul again._
ANDREW LANG.
Gerard DE NERVAL
Il a toujours cherche dans le monde
ce que le monde ne pouvait plus lui
donner.
LUDOVIC HALEVY.
He has been a sick man all his life.
He was always a seeker after something
in the world that is there in no
satisfying measure, or not at all.
WALTER PATER.
GERARD DE NERVAL.
I.
Of Gerard de Nerval, whose true name was Gerard Labrunie, it has been
finely said: "His was the most beautiful of all the lost souls of the
French Romance."(*) Born in 1808, he came to his death by suicide one
dark winter night towards the end of January.
The story of this life and its tragic finale was well known at the time
to all men of letters,--Theophile Gautier, Paul de Saint-Victor, Arsene
Houssaye,--friends who never forgot the young poet even after he went
the way that madness lies. For it was insanity,--a nostalgia of the soul
always imminent--that led him into the squalid _Rue de la
Vieille-Lanterne_, in which long forgotten corner of old Paris his dead
body was found one bleak belated dawn. And this was forty years ago.
In later days Maxime du Camp and Ludovic Halevy have retold with great
feeling the history of Gerard, his early triumphs, his love for Jenny
Colon,--the Aurelie of these _Souvenirs du Valois_,--and how at last
life's scurrile play was ended.
(*) See _A Century of French Verse_, translated and edited by
William John Robertson (4to, London, 1895).
II.
One of Mr. Andrew
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MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XIV AND HIS COURT AND OF THE REGENCY
BY THE DUKE OF SAINT-SIMON
VOLUME 14
CHAPTER CV
For a long time a species of war had been declared between the King of
England and his son, the Prince of Wales, which had caused much scandal;
and which had enlisted the Court on one side, and made much stir in the
Parliament. George had more than once broken out with indecency against
his son; he had long since driven him from the palace, and would not see
him. He had so cut down his income that he could scarcely subsist. The
father never could endure this son, because he did not believe him to be
his own. He had more than suspected the Duchess, his wife, to be in
relations with Count Konigsmarck. He surprised him one morning leaving
her chamber; threw him into a hot oven, and shut up his wife in a chateau
for the rest of her days. The Prince of Wales, who found himself ill-
treated for a cause of which he was personally innocent, had always borne
with impatience the presence of his mother and the aversion of his
father. The Princess of Wales, who had much sense, intelligence, grace,
and art, had softened things as much as possible; and the King was unable
to refuse her his esteem, or avoid loving her. She had conciliated all
England; and her Court, always large, boasted of the presence of the most
accredited and the most distinguished persons. The Prince of Wales
feeling his strength, no longer studied his father, and blamed the
ministers with words that at least alarmed them. They feared the credit
of the Princess of Wales; feared lest they should be attacked by the
Parliament, which often indulges in this pleasure. These considerations
became more and more pressing as they discovered what was brewing against
them; plans such as would necessarily have rebounded upon the King. They
communicated their fears to him, and indeed tried to make it up with his
son, on certain conditions, through the medium of the Princess of Wales,
who, on her side, felt all the consciousness of sustaining a party
against the King, and who always had sincerely desired peace in the royal
family. She profited by this conjuncture; made use of the ascendency she
had over her husband, and the reconciliation was concluded. The King
gave a large sum to the Prince of Wales, and consented to see him. The
ministers were saved, and all appeared forgotten.
The excess to which things had been carried between father and son had
not only kept the entire nation attentive to the intestine disorders
ready to arise, but had made a great stir all over Europe; each power
tried to blow this fire into a blaze, or to stifle it according as
interest suggested. The Archbishop of Cambrai, whom I shall continue to
call the Abbe Dubois, was just then very anxiously looking out for his
cardinal's hat, which he was to obtain through the favour of England,
acting upon that of the Emperor with the Court of Rome. Dubois,
overjoyed at the reconciliation which had taken place, wished to show
this in a striking manner, in order to pay his court to the King of
England. He named, therefore, the Duc de la Force to go to England, and
compliment King George on the happy event that had occurred.
The demonstration of joy that had been resolved on in France was soon
known in England. George, annoyed by the stir that his domestic
squabbles had made throughout all Europe, did not wish to see it
prolonged by the sensation that this solemn envoy would cause. He begged
the Regent, therefore, not to send him one. As the scheme had been
determined on only order to please him, the journey of the Duc de la
Force was abandoned almost as soon as declared. Dubois had the double
credit, with the King of England, of having arranged this demonstration
of joy, and of giving it up; in both cases solely for the purpose of
pleasing his Britannic Majesty.
Towards the end of this year, 1720, the Duc de Brissac married Mlle.
Pecoil, a very rich heiress, whose father was a'maitre des requetes',
and whose mother was daughter of Le Gendre, a very wealthy merchant of
Rouen. The father of Mlle. Pecoil was a citizen of Lyons, a wholesale
dealer, and extremely avaricious. He had a large iron safe, or strong-
box, filled with money, in a cellar, shut in by
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THE LAST GALLEY
IMPRESSIONS AND TALES
By Arthur Conan Doyle
PREFACE
I have written "Impressions and Tales" upon the title-page of this
volume, because I have included within the same cover two styles of work
which present an essential difference.
The second half of the collection consists of eight stories, which
explain themselves.
The first half is made up of a series of pictures of the past which
maybe regarded as trial flights towards a larger ideal which I have
long had in my mind. It has seemed to me that there is a region
between actual story and actual history which has never been adequately
exploited. I could imagine, for example, a work dealing with some great
historical epoch, and finding its interest not in the happenings to
particular individuals, their adventures and their loves, but in the
fascination of the actual facts of history themselves. These facts might
be with the glamour which the writer of fiction can give, and
fictitious characters and conversations might illustrate them; but none
the less the actual drama of history and not the drama of invention
should claim the attention of the reader. I have been tempted sometimes
to try the effect upon a larger scale; but meanwhile these short
sketches, portraying various crises in the story of the human race, are
to be judged as experiments in that direction.
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.
WINDLESHAM, CROWBOROUGH, April, 1911.
CONTENTS
PART I
THE LAST GALLEY
THE CONTEST THROUGH THE VEIL
AN ICONOCLAST
GIANT MAXIMIN
THE COMING OF THE HUNS
THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS
THE FIRST CARGO
THE HOME-COMING
THE RED STAR
PART II
THE SILVER MIRROR
THE BLIGHTING OF SHARKEY
THE MARRIAGE OF THE BRIGADIER
THE LORD OF FALCONBRIDGE
OUT OF THE RUNNING
"DE PROFUNDIS"
THE GREAT BROWN-PERICORD MOTOR
THE TERROR OF BLUE JOHN GAP
PART I. THE LAST GALLEY
"Mutato nomine, de te, Britannia, fabula narratur."
It was a spring morning, one hundred and forty-six years before the
coming of Christ. The North African Coast, with its broad hem of golden
sand, its green belt of feathery palm trees, and its background of
barren, red-scarped hills, shimmered like a dream country in the opal
light. Save for a narrow edge of snow-white surf, the Mediterranean lay
blue and serene as far as the eye could reach. In all its vast expanse
there was no break but for a single galley, which was slowly making its
way from the direction of Sicily and heading for the distant harbour of
Carthage.
Seen from afar it was a stately and beautiful vessel, deep red in
colour, double-banked with scarlet oars, its broad, flapping sail
stained with Tyrian purple, its bulwarks gleaming with brass work. A
brazen, three-pronged ram projected in front, and a high golden figure
of Baal, the God of the Phoenicians, children of Canaan, shone upon the
after deck. From the single high mast above the huge sail streamed the
tiger-striped flag of Carthage. So, like some stately scarlet bird, with
golden beak and wings of purple, she swam upon the face of the waters--a
thing of might and of beauty as seen from the distant shore.
But approach and look at her now! What are these dark streaks which foul
her white decks and dapple her brazen shields? Why do the long red oars
move out of time, irregular, convulsive? Why are some missing from the
staring portholes, some snapped with jagged, yellow edges, some trailing
inert against the side? Why are two prongs of the brazen ram twisted and
broken? See, even the high image of Baal is battered and disfigured! By
every sign this ship has passed through some grievous trial, some day of
terror, which has left its heavy marks upon her.
And now stand upon the deck itself, and see more closely the men who man
her! There are two decks forward and aft, while in the open waist are
the double banks of seats, above and below, where the rowers, two to
an oar, tug and bend at their endless task. Down the centre is a narrow
platform, along which pace a line of warders, lash in hand, who cut
cruelly at the slave who pauses, be it only for an instant, to sweep the
sweat from his dripping brow. But these slaves--look at them! Some are
captured Romans, some Sicilians, many black Libyans, but all are in the
last exhaustion, their weary eyelids drooped over their eyes, their
lips thick with black crusts, and pink with bloody froth, their arms
and backs moving mechanically to the hoarse chant of the overseer. Their
bodies of all tints from ivory to jet, are stripped to the waist, and
every glistening back shows the angry stripes of the warders. But it is
not from these that the blood comes which reddens the seats and tints
the salt water washing beneath their manacled feet. Great gaping wounds,
the marks of sword slash and spear stab, show crimson upon their naked
chests and shoulders, while many lie huddled and senseless athwart the
benches, careless for ever of the whips which still hiss above them. Now
we can understand those empty portholes and those trailing oars.
Nor were the crew in better case than their slaves. The decks were
littered with wounded and dying men. It was but a remnant who still
remained upon their feet. The most lay exhausted upon the fore-deck,
while a few of the more zealous were mending their shattered armour,
restringing their bows, or cleaning the deck from the marks of combat.
Upon a raised platform at the base of the mast stood the sailing-master
who conned the ship, his eyes fixed upon the distant point of Megara
which screened the eastern side of the Bay of Carthage. On the
after-deck were gathered a number of officers, silent and brooding,
glancing from time to time at two of their own class who stood apart
deep in conversation. The one, tall, dark, and wiry, with pure, Semitic
features, and the limbs of a giant, was Magro, the famous Carthaginian
captain, whose name was still a terror on every shore, from Gaul to
the Euxine. The other, a white-bearded, swarthy man, with indomitable
courage and energy stamped upon every eager line of his keen, aquiline
face, was Gisco the politician, a man of the highest Punic blood, a
Suffete of the purple robe, and the leader of that party in the State
which had watched and striven amid the selfishness and slothfulness of
his fellow-countrymen to rouse the public spirit and waken the public
conscience to the ever-increasing danger from Rome. As they talked, the
two men glanced continually, with earnest anxious faces, towards the
northern skyline.
"It is certain," said the older man, with gloom in his voice and
bearing, "none have escaped save ourselves."
"I did not leave the press of the battle whilst I saw one ship which I
could succour," Magro answered. "As it was, we came away, as you saw,
like a wolf which has a hound hanging on to either haunch. The Roman
dogs can show the wolf-bites which prove it. Had any other galley won
clear, they would surely be with us by now, since they have no place of
safety save Carthage."
The younger warrior glanced keenly ahead to the distant point which
marked his native city. Already the low, leafy hill could be seen,
dotted with the white villas of the wealthy Phoenician merchants. Above
them, a gleaming dot against the pale blue morning sky, shone the brazen
roof of the citadel of Byrsa, which capped the sloping town.
"Already they can see us from the watch-towers," he remarked. "Even from
afar they may know the galley of Black Magro. But which of all of them
will guess that we alone remain of all that goodly fleet which sailed
out with blare of trumpet and roll of drum but one short month ago?"
The patrician smiled bitterly. "If it were not for our great ancestors
and for our beloved country, the Queen of the Waters," said he, "I could
find it in my heart to be glad at this destruction which has come upon
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THE BLUE FLOWER
By Henry Van <DW18>
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion for something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow.
--SHELLEY.
To
THE DEAR MEMORY OF
BERNARD VAN <DW18>
1887-1897
AND THE LOVE THAT LIVES
BEYOND THE YEARS
PREFACE
Sometimes short stories are brought together like parcels in a basket.
Sometimes they grow together like blossoms on a bush. Then, of course,
they really belong to one another, because they have the same life in
them.
The stories in this book have been growing together for a long time. It
is at least ten years since the first of them, the story of The Other
Wise Man, came to me; and all the others I knew quite well by heart a
good while before I could find the time, in a hard-worked life, to write
them down and try to make them clear and true to others. It has been a
slow task, because the right word has not always been easy to find, and
I wanted to keep free from conventionality in the thought and close to
nature in the picture. It is enough to cause a man no little shame to
see how small is the fruit of so long labour.
And yet, after all, when one wishes to write about life, especially
about that part of it which is inward, the inwrought experience of
living may be of value. And that is a thing which one cannot get in
haste, neither can it be made to order. Patient waiting belongs to it;
and rainy days belong to it; and the best of it sometimes comes in the
doing of tasks that seem not to amount to much. So in the long run, I
suppose, while delay and failure and interruption may keep a piece of
work very small, yet in the end they enter into the quality of it and
bring it a little nearer to the real thing, which is always more or less
of a secret.
But the strangest part of it all is the way in which a single thought,
an idea, will live with a man while he works, and take new forms from
year to year, and light up the things that he sees and hears, and lead
his imagination by the hand into many wonderful and diverse regions. It
seems to me that there am two ways in which you may give unity to a book
of stories. You may stay in one place and write about different themes,
preserving always the colour of the same locality. Or you may go into
different places and use as many of the colours and shapes of life as
you can really see in the light of the same thought.
There is such a thought in this book. It is the idea of the search for
inward happiness, which all men who are really alive are following,
along what various paths, and with what different fortunes! Glimpses of
this idea, traces of this search, I thought that I could see in certain
tales that were in my mind,--tales of times old and new, of lands near
and far away. So I tried to tell them, as best as I could, hoping that
other men, being also seekers, might find some meaning in them.
There are only little, broken chapters from the long story of life.
None of them is taken from other books. Only one of them--the story of
Winifried and the Thunder-Oak--has the slightest wisp of a foundation in
fact or legend. Yet I think they are all true.
But how to find a name for such a book,--a name that will tell enough to
show the thought and yet not too much to leave it free? I have borrowed
a symbol from the old German poet and philosopher, Novalis, to stand
instead of a name. The Blue Flower which he used in his romance of
Heinrich von Ofterdingen to symbolise Poetry, the object of his young
hero's quest, I have used here to signify happiness, the satisfaction of
the heart.
Reader, will you take the book and see if it belongs to you? Whether
it does or not, my wish is that the Blue Flower may grow in the garden
where you work.
AVALON, December 1, 1902.
CONTENTS
I. The Blue Flower
II. The Source
III. The Mill
IV. Spy Rock
V. Wood-Magic
VI. The Other Wise Man
VII. I Handful of Clay
VIII. The Lost Word
IX. The First Christmas-Tree
THE BLUE FLOWER
The parents were abed and sleeping. The clock on the wall ticked loudly
and lazily, as if it had time to spare. Outside the rattling windows
there was a restless, whispering wind. The room grew light, and dark,
and wondrous light again, as the moon played hide-and-seek through the
clouds. The boy, wide-awake and quiet in his bed, was thinking of the
Stranger and his stories.
"It was not what he told me about the treasures," he
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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_ and bold text by =equal
signs=.
CHARLES AUCHESTER
VOLUME I.
[Illustration: MENDELSSOHN
FROM AN ORIGINAL PORTRAIT--1821.]
CHARLES AUCHESTER
BY
ELIZABETH SHEPPARD
_WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES_
BY GEORGE P. UPTON
AUTHOR OF "THE STANDARD OPERAS," "STANDARD ORATORIOS," "STANDARD
CANTATAS," "STANDARD SYMPHONIES," "WOMAN IN MUSIC," ETC.
In Two Volumes
VOLUME I.
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY
1891
COPYRIGHT,
BY A. C. MCCLURG AND CO.
A.D. 1891.
INTRODUCTION.
The romance of "Charles Auchester," which is really a memorial to
Mendelssohn, the composer, was first published in England in 1853. The
titlepage bore the name of "E. Berger," a French pseudonym, which for
some time served to conceal the identity of the author. Its motto was
a sentence from one of Disraeli's novels: "Were it not for Music, we
might in these days say, The Beautiful is dead." The dedication was
also to the same distinguished writer, and ran thus: "To the author of
'Contarini Fleming,' whose perfect genius suggested this imperfect
history
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
MYTHS AND LEGENDS
OF ALASKA
SELECTED AND EDITED BY
KATHARINE BERRY JUDSON
Author of "Myths and Legends of
the Pacific Northwest," and
"Montana, 'The Land of Shining
Mountains'"
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1911
Copyright
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1911
Published September, 1911
W. F. Hall Printing Company
Chicago
[Illustration: Tlingit Indians in Dancing Costume]
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST.
Especially of Washington and Oregon.
_With 50 full-page illustrations. Small 4to._
_$1.50 net._
MONTANA: "The Land of Shining Mountains."
_Illustrated. Indexed. Square 8vo._
_75 cents net._
A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers
PREFACE
Long ago, even before the days of the animal people, the world was
only a great ocean wherein was no land nor any living thing except a
great Bird. The Bird, after a long, long time, flew down to the
surface of the water and dipped his great black wings into the flood.
The earth arose out of the waters. So began the creation. While the
land was still soft, the first man burst from the pod of the beach pea
and looked out upon the endless plain behind him and the gray salt sea
before him. He was the only man. Then Raven appeared to him and the
creation of other beings began. Raven made also animals for food and
clothing. Later, because the earth plain was so bare, he planted trees
and shrubs and grass and set the green things to growing.
With creation by a Great Spirit, there came dangers from evil spirits.
Such spirits carried away the sun and moon, and hung them to the
rafters of the dome-shaped Alaskan huts. The world became cold and
cheerless, and in the Land of Darkness white skins became blackened by
contact with the darkness. So it became necessary to search for the
sun and hang it again in the dome-shaped sky above them. Darkness in
the Land of Long Night was the cause, through magic, of the bitter
winds of winter--winds which came down from the North, bringing with
them ice and cold and snow. This was the work of some Great Spirit
which had loosened the side of the gray cloud-tent under which they
lived, letting in the bitter winds of another world. Spirits blow the
mists over the cold north sea so that canoes lose sight of their
home-land. Spirits also drive the ice floes, with their fishermen, far
over the horizon of ocean, into the still colder North. Spirits govern
the run of the salmon, the catching of whales, and all the life of the
people of the North who wage such a terrific struggle for existence.
So there must needs be those who have power over the evil spirits,
those who by incantations and charms of magic, by ceremonial dancing
in symbolic dress, can control the designs of those who work ever
against these children of the North. Thus there arose the shamans with
all their ceremonies.
The myths in this volume are authentic. The original collections were
made by government ethnologists, by whose permission this compilation
is made. And no effort has been made, in the telling of them, to
change them from the terse directness of the natives. The language of
all Indian tribes is very simple, and to the extent that an effort is
made to put myths and legends into more polished form, to that extent
is their authenticity impaired.
Only the quaintest and purest of the myths have been selected. Many
Alaskan myths are very long and tiresome, rambling from one subject to
another, besides revealing low moral conditions. These have been
omitted, as have also those which deal with the intermarriage of men
and birds, and men and animals. Such myths are better left among
government documents where they can be readily consulted by those
making a special study of the subject. They are hardly suitable for
any collection intended for general reading. The leading myth of the
North, however, the Raven Myth, is given with a fair degree of
completeness. It would not be possible, nor would it be wise, to
attempt a compilation of all the fragments of this extensive myth.
Especial thanks are due to Dr. Franz Boas for the Tsetsaut and
Tsimshian myths, to John R. Swanton for the Tlingit myths, to Edward
Russell Nelson for the Eskimo myths, to Ferdinand Schnitter, and to
others. Thanks are also due for courtesies in securing photographs to
Mr. B. B. Dobbs and particularly to Mr. Clarence L. Andrews, both of
whom have spent many years in Alaska.
K. B. J.
_University
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THE ENGLISH STAGE
_WORKS BY THE AUTHOR._
PROFILS ANGLAIS.
MERIMEE ET SES AMIS.
VIOLETTE MERIAN.
AMOURS ANGLAIS.
LES CONTES DU CENTENAIRE.
ETC. ETC.
THE ENGLISH STAGE
_Being an Account of the Victorian Drama by Augustin Filon_
Translated from the French by Frederic Whyte with
an Introduction by Henry Arthur Jones
JOHN MILNE
12 NORFOLK STREET, STRAND, LONDON
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD, & COMPANY
MDCCCXCVII
_All Rights Reserved_
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction by Mr. Henry Arthur Jones 9
Author's Preface 31
CHAPTER I
A Glance back--From 1820 to 1830--Kean and Macready--The
Strolling Player--The Critics--Sheridan Knowles and
_Virginius_--Douglas Jerrold--His Comedies--_The Rent
Day_--_The Prisoner of War_--_Black-Eyed Susan_--Collapse of
the Privileged Theatres--Men of Letters come to the Rescue of
the Drama--Bulwer Lytton--_The Lady of Lyons_--_Richelieu_--
_Money_ 39
CHAPTER II
Macready's Withdrawal from the Stage--The Enemies of the
Drama in 1850: Puritanism; the Opera; the Pantomime; the
"Hippodrama"--French Plays and French Players in England--
Actors of the Period--The Censorship--The Critics--The
Historical Plays of Tom Taylor and the Irish Plays of Dion
Boucicault 73
CHAPTER III
The Vogue of Burlesque--Burnand's _Ixion_--H. J. Byron--The
Influence of Burlesque upon the Moral Tone of the Stage--Marie
Wilton's Debut--A Letter from Dickens--Founding of the Prince
of Wales's--Tom Robertson, his Life as Actor and Author--His
Journalistic Career--London Bohemia in 1865--Sothern 93
CHAPTER IV
First Performance of _Society_--Success of _Ours_, _Caste_,
and _School_--How Robertson turned to account the Talent of
his Actors, John Hare, Bancroft, and Mrs. Bancroft--Progress
in the Matter of Scenery--Dialogue and Character-drawing--
Robertson as a Humorist: a Scene from _School_--As a Realist:
a Scene from _Caste_--The Comedian of the Upper Middle
Classes--Robertson's Marriage, Illness, and Death--The "Cup
and Saucer" Comedy--The Improvement in Actors' Salaries--The
Bancrofts at the Haymarket--Farewell Performance--My
Pilgrimage to Tottenham Street 114
CHAPTER V
Gilbert: compared with Robertson--His First Literary Efforts--
The _Bab Ballads_--_Sweethearts_--A Series of Experiments--
Gilbert's Psychology and Methods of Work--_Dan'l Druce_,
_Engaged_, _The Palace of Truth_, _The Wicked World_,
_Pygmalion and Galatea_--The Gilbert and Sullivan Operas 138
CHAPTER VI
Shakespeare again--From Macready to Irving; Phelps, Fechter,
Ryder, Adelaide Neilson--Irving's Debut--His Career in the
Provinces, and Visit to Paris--The role of Digby Grand--The
role of Matthias--The Production of _Hamlet_--Successive
Triumphs--Irving as Stage Manager--as an Editor of
Shakespeare--His Defects as an Actor--Too great for some of
his Parts--As a Writer and Lecturer; his Theory of Art--Sir
Henry Irving, Head of his Profession 156
CHAPTER VII
Is it well to imitate Shakespeare?--The Death of the Classical
Drama--Herman Merivale and the _White Pilgrim_--Wills and his
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THE ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND COUNT FATHOM
by Tobias Smollett
COMPLETE IN TWO PARTS
PART I.
With the Author's Preface, and an Introduction by G. H. Maynadier, Ph.D.
Department of English, Harvard University.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
PREFATORY ADDRESS
CHAPTER
I Some sage Observations that naturally introduce our important
History
II A superficial View of our Hero's Infancy
III He is initiated in a Military Life, and has the good Fortune
to acquire a generous Patron
IV His Mother's Prowess and Death; together with some Instances
of his own Sagacity
V A brief Detail of his Education
VI He meditates Schemes of Importance
VII Engages in Partnership with a female Associate, in order to
put his Talents in Action
VIII Their first Attempt; with a Digression which some Readers
may think impertinent
IX The Confederates change their Battery, and achieve a remarkable
Adventure
X They proceed to levy Contributions with great Success, until
our Hero sets out with the young Count for Vienna, where he
enters into League with another Adventurer
XI Fathom makes various Efforts in the World of Gallantry
XII He effects a Lodgment in the House of a rich Jeweller
XIII He is exposed to a most perilous Incident in the Course of his
Intrigue with the Daughter
XIV He is reduced to a dreadful Dilemma, in consequence of an
Assignation with the Wife
XV But at length succeeds in his Attempt upon both
XVI His Success begets a blind Security, by which he is once again
well-nigh entrapped in his Dulcinea's Apartment
XVII The Step-dame's Suspicions being awakened, she lays a Snare
for our Adventurer, from which he is delivered by the
Interposition of his Good Genius
XVIII Our Hero departs from Vienna, and quits the Domain of Venus
for the rough Field of Mars
XIX He puts himself under the Guidance of his Associate, and
stumbles upon the French Camp, where he finishes his
Military Career
XX He prepares a Stratagem, but finds himself countermined--
Proceeds on his Journey, and is overtaken by a terrible
Tempest
XXI He falls upon Scylla, seeking to avoid Charybdis.
XXII He arrives at Paris, and is pleased with his Reception
XXIII Acquits himself with Address in a Nocturnal Riot
XXIV He overlooks the Advances of his Friends, and smarts severely
for his Neglect
XXV He bears his Fate like a Philosopher; and contracts
acquaintance with a very remarkable Personage
XXVI The History of the Noble Castilian
XXVII A flagrant Instance of Fathom's Virtue, in the Manner of his
Retreat to England
XXVIII Some Account of his Fellow-Travellers
XXIX Another providential Deliverance from the Effects of the
Smuggler's ingenious Conjecture
XXX The singular Manner of Fathom's Attack and Triumph over the
Virtue of the fair Elenor
XXXI He by accident encounters his old Friend, with whom he holds
a Conference, and renews a Treaty
XXXII He appears in the great World with universal Applause and
Admiration
XXXIII He attracts the Envy and Ill Offices of the minor Knights of
his own Order, over whom he obtains a complete Victory
XXXIV He performs another Exploit, that conveys a true Idea of his
Gratitude and Honour
XXXV He repairs to Bristol Spring, where he reigns paramount during
the whole Season
XXXVI He is smitten with the Charms of a Female Adventurer, whose
Allurements subject him to a new Vicissitude of Fortune
XXXVII Fresh Cause for exerting his Equanimity and Fortitude
XXXVIII The Biter is Bit
INTRODUCTION
The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom, Smollett's third novel, was
given to the world in 1753. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, writing to her
daughter, the Countess of Bute, over a year later [January 1st, 1755],
remarked that "my friend Smollett. . . has certainly a talent for
invention, though I think it flags a little in his last work." Lady Mary
was both right and wrong
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LITERATURE AND LIFE--The Standard Household-Effect Company
by William Dean Howells
THE STANDARD HOUSEHOLD-EFFECT COMPANY
My friend came in the other day, before we had left town, and looked
round at the appointments of the room in their summer shrouds, and said,
with a faint sigh, "I see you have had the eternal-womanly with you,
too."
I.
"Isn't the eternal-womanly everywhere? What has happened to you?"
I asked.
"I wish you would come to my house and see. Every rug has been up for a
month, and we have been living on bare floors. Everything that could be
tied up has been tied up, everything that could be sewed up has been
sewed up. Everything that could be moth-balled and put away in chests
has been moth-balled and put away. Everything that could be taken down
has been taken down. Bags with draw-strings at their necks have been
pulled over the chandeliers and tied. The pictures have been hidden in
cheese-cloth, and the mirrors veiled in gauze so that I cannot see my own
miserable face anywhere."
"Come! That's something."
"Yes, it's something. But I have been thinking this matter over very
seriously, and I believe it is going from bad to worse. I have heard
praises of the thorough housekeeping of our grandmothers, but the
housekeeping of their granddaughters is a thousand times more intense."
"Do you really believe that?" I asked. "And if you do, what of it?"
"Simply this, that if we don't put a stop to it, at the gait it's going,
it will put a stop to the eternal-womanly."
"I suppose we should hate that."
"Yes, it would be bad. It would be very bad; and I have been turning the
matter over in my mind, and studying out a remedy."
"The highest type of philosopher turns a thing over in his mind and lets
some one else study out a remedy."
"Yes, I know. I feel that I may be wrong in my processes, but I am sure
that I am right in my results. The reason why our grandmothers could be
such good housekeepers without danger of putting a stop to the eternal-
womanly was that they had so few things to look after in their houses.
Life was indefinitely simpler with them. But the modern improvements,
as we call them, have multiplied the cares of housekeeping without
subtracting its burdens, as they were expected to do. Every novel
convenience and comfort, every article of beauty and luxury, every means
of refinement and enjoyment in our houses, has been so much added to the
burdens of housekeeping, and the granddaughters have inherited from the
grandmothers an undiminished conscience against rust and the moth, which
will not suffer them to forget the least duty they owe to the naughtiest
of their superfluities."
"Yes, I see what you mean," I said. This is what one usually says when
one does not quite know what another is driving at; but in this case I
really did know, or thought I did. "That survival of the conscience is a
very curious thing, especially in our eternal-womanly. I suppose that
the North American conscience was evolved from the rudimental European
conscience during the first centuries of struggle here, and was more or
less religious and economical in its origin. But with the advance of
wealth and the decay of faith among us, the conscience seems to be simply
conscientious, or, if it is otherwise, it is social. The eternal-womanly
continues along the old lines of housekeeping from an atavistic impulse,
and no one woman can stop because all the other women are going on. It
is something in the air, or something in the blood. Perhaps it is
something in both."
"Yes," said my friend, quite as I had said already, "I see what you mean.
But I think it is in the air more than in the blood. I was in Paris,
about this time last year, perhaps because I was the only thing in my
house that had not been swathed in cheese-cloth, or tied up in a bag with
drawstrings, or rolled up with moth-balls and put away in chests. At any
rate, I was there. One day I left my wife in New York carefully tagging
three worn-out feather dusters, and putting them
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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.
NUMBER 27. SATURDAY, JANUARY 2, 1841. VOLUME I.
[Illustration: THE IRISH MIDWIFE.--PART II.
BY WILLIAM CARLETON.]
The village of Ballycomaisy was as pleasant a little place as one
might wish to see of a summer’s day. To be sure, like all other Irish
villages, it was remarkable for a superfluity of “pigs, praties, and
childre,” which being the stock in trade of an Irish cabin, it is to be
presumed that very few villages either in Ireland or elsewhere could go
on properly without them. It consisted principally of one long street,
which you entered from the north-west side by one of those old-fashioned
bridges, the arches of which were much more akin to the Gothic than the
Roman. Most of the houses were of
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[Illustration: THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER
VOL. XX.--NO. 982.] OCTOBER 22, 1898. [PRICE ONE PENNY.]
[Illustration: A MOTHER'S LOVE.
"'Can a woman's tender care
Cease towards the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be,
Yet will I remember _thee_.'"]
_All rights reserved_.]
"OUR HERO."
BY AGNES GIBERNE, Author of "Sun, Moon and Stars," "The Girl at the
Dower House," etc.
CHAPTER IV.
MOST UNPLEASANT TIDINGS.
"Hallo!--Keene!--Mr. Jack Keene! At your service, sir."
"Admiral! How do you? I was near giving you the go-by."
"Near running me down, you might say. Like to a three-decker in full
sail. You are going indoors? Ay, ay, then I'll wait; I'll come another
day. 'Twas in my mind that Mrs. Fairbank might be glad of a word. But
since you are here----"
"She will be glad, I can assure you. Pray, sir, come in with me. This
is a frightful blow. It was told me as I came off the ground after
parade; and I hastened hither at full speed."
"Ay, ay; that did you!" muttered the Admiral. "Seeing nought ahead of
you but the Corsican, I'll be bound."
"'Tis a disgrace to his nation," burst out Jack. "Sir, what do you
think of the step?"
"Think! The most atrocious--the most abominable piece of work ever
heard of. If ever a living man deserved to be strung up at the
yard-arm, that man is Napoleon and none other."
"It can never, sure, be carried out."
"Nay, if the Consul choose, what is to hinder?"
"Government will not give up the vessels seized."
"Give them up! Knuckle down to the Corsican! Crouch before him like to
a whipped hound! Why, war has been declared. Our Ambassador had had
his orders to come home, before ever the step was taken. Give up the
ships! Confess ourselves wrong, in a custom which has been allowed for
ages. We'll give nothing up, nothing, my dear Jack! Sooner than that,
let Boney do his best and his worst. Wants to chase our vessels of war,
does he? Ay, so he may, when they turn tail and run away. We shall know
how to meet him afloat, fast enough--no fear! With our jolly tars, and
brave Nelson at their head, there's a thing or two yet to be taught to
the First Consul, or I'm greatly in error."
The two speakers stood outside Mrs. Fairbank's house in Bath, where
they had arrived from opposite directions at the same moment. Both had
walked fast; and each after his own mode showed excitement. The older
of the two, Admiral Peirce, a grizzled veteran, made small attempt to
hide the wrath which quivered visibly in every fibre of his athletic
figure. He had usually a frank and kindly countenance, weather-beaten
by many a storm, yet overflowing with geniality. The geniality had
forsaken it this morning, and he looked like one whom an enemy might
prefer not to meet at too close quarters.
Jack Keene had, as he intimated, come straight from parade, not waiting
to get rid of his uniform; and in that uniform the young ensign looked
older than in civilian dress. Also he seemed older in this mood of
hot indignation, his light blue eyes sparkling angrily, and his brows
frowning. For once, whatever might usually be the case, he had fully
the air of a grown man. Boys became men earlier in those days than they
do in these, for the tension and stress of life were greater--albeit
railways did not exist, and telegrams had not been heard of.
"His worst!" Jack repeated, with a note of inquiry.
"He'll not go beyond a point. Don't think it. No danger to their
lives--none whatever, you understand! Only detention. That's bad
enough, but that is all. And yon pretty sister of yours, the fair
Polly, why, to be sure, and she is the betrothed of Captain Ivor."
Jack nodded.
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DYNEVOR TERRACE.
VOL. II.
BY
CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
CONTENTS
1. THE TRYSTE.
II. THE THIRD TIME.
III. MISTS.
IV. OUTWARD BOUND.
V. THE NEW WORLD.
VI. THE TWO PENDRAGONS.
VII. ROLAND AND OLIVER
VIII. THE RESTORATION.
IX. THE GIANT OF THE WESTERN STAR.
X. THE WRONG WOMAN IN THE WRONG PLACE.
XI. AUNT CATHARINE'S HOME.
XII. THE FROST HOUSEHOLD.
XIII. THE CONWAY HOUSEHOLD.
XIV. THE TRUSTEES' MEETING.
XV. SWEET USES OF ADVERSITY.
XVI. THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION.
XVII. 'BIDE A WEE.'
XVIII. THE CRASH.
XIX. FAREWELL TO GREATNESS.
XX. WESTERN TIDINGS.
XXI. STEPPING WESTWARD.
XXII. RATHER SUDDEN.
XXIII. THE MARVEL OF PERU.
CHAPTER I.
THE TRYSTE.
One single flash of glad surprise
Just glanced from Isabel's dark eyes,
Then vanished in the blush of shame
That as its penance instant came--
'O thought unworthy of my race!'
The Lord of the Isles.
As little recked Fitzjocelyn of the murmurs which he had provoked, as
he guessed the true secret of his victory. In his eyes, it was the
triumph of merit over prejudice, and Mrs. Frost espoused the same
gratifying view, though ascribing much to her nephew's activity, and
James himself, flushed with hope and success, was not likely to dissent.
Next they had to make their conquest available. Apart from Louis's
magnificent prognostications, at the lowest computation, the head
master's income amounted to a sum which to James appeared affluence;
and though there was no house provided, it mattered the less since
there were five to choose from in the Terrace, even if his grandmother
had not wished that their household should be still the same. With
Miss Conway's own fortune and the Terrace settled on herself, where
could be any risk?
Would Lady Conway think so? and how should the communication be made?
James at first proposed writing to her, enclosing a letter to Isabel;
but he changed his mind, unable to satisfy himself that, when absent
from restraint, she might not send a refusal without affording her
daughter the option. He begged his grandmother to write to Isabel; but
she thought her letter might carry too much weight, and, whatever might
be her hopes, it was not for her to tell the young lady that such means
were sufficient.
Louis begged to be the bearer of the letter. His aunt would certainly
keep terms with him, and he could insure that the case was properly
laid before Isabel; and, as there could be no doubt at present of his
persuasive powers, James caught at the offer. The party were still at
Beauchastel, and he devised going to his old quarters at Ebbscreek, and
making a descent upon them from thence.
When he came to take up his credentials, he found James and his little
black leathern bag, determined to come at least to Ebbscreek with him,
and declaring it made him frantic to stay at home and leave his cause
in other hands, and that he could not exist anywhere but close to the
scene of action.
Captain Hannaford was smoking in his demi-boat, and gave his former
lodgers a hearty welcome, but he twinkled knowingly with his eye, and
so significantly volunteered to inform them that the ladies were still
at Beauchastel, that James's wrath at the old skipper's impudence began
to revive, and he walked off to the remotest end of the garden.
The Captain, remaining with Louis, with whom he was always on far more
easy terms, looked after the other gentleman, winked again, and
confessed that he had suspected one or other of them might be coming
that way this summer, though he could not say he had expected to see
them both together.
'Mind, Captain,' said Louis,' it wasn't _I_ that made the boat late
this time last year.'
'Well! I might be wrong, I fancied you cast an eye that way. Then
maybe it ain't true what's all over the place here.'
Louis pressed to
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ION
By Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION.
The Ion is the shortest, or nearly the shortest, of all the writings
which bear the name of Plato, and is not authenticated by any early
external testimony. The grace and beauty of this little work supply the
only, and perhaps a sufficient, proof of its genuineness. The plan is
simple; the dramatic interest consists entirely in the contrast
between the irony of Socrates and the transparent vanity and childlike
enthusiasm of the rhapsode Ion. The theme of the Dialogue may possibly
have been suggested by the passage of Xenophon's Memorabilia in which
the rhapsodists are described by Euthydemus as'very precise about the
exact words of Homer, but very idiotic themselves.' (Compare Aristotle,
Met.)
Ion the rhapsode has just come to Athens; he has been exhibiting in
Epidaurus at the festival of Asclepius, and is intending to exhibit
at the festival of the Panathenaea. Socrates admires and envies the
rhapsode's art; for he is always well dressed and in good company--in
the company of good poets and of Homer, who is the prince of them. In
the course of conversation the admission is elicited from Ion that his
skill is restricted to Homer, and that he knows nothing of inferior
poets, such as Hesiod and Archilochus;--he brightens up and is wide
awake when Homer is being recited, but is apt to go to sleep at the
recitations of any other poet. 'And yet, surely, he who knows the
superior ought to know the inferior also;--he who can judge of the good
speaker is able to judge of the bad. And poetry is a whole; and he
who judges of poetry by rules of art ought to be able to judge of
all poetry.' This is confirmed by the analogy of sculpture, painting,
flute-playing, and the other arts. The argument is at last brought home
to the mind of Ion, who asks how this contradiction is to be solved. The
solution given by Socrates is as follows:--
The rhapsode is not guided by rules of art, but is an inspired person
who derives a mysterious power from the poet; and the poet, in like
manner, is inspired by the God. The poets and their interpreters may be
compared to a chain of magnetic rings suspended from one another, and
from a magnet. The magnet is the Muse, and the ring which immediately
follows is the poet himself; from him are suspended other poets; there
is also a chain of rhapsodes and actors, who also hang from the Muses,
but are let down at the side; and the last ring of all is the spectator.
The poet is the inspired interpreter of the God, and this is the reason
why some poets, like Homer, are restricted to a single theme, or,
like Tynnichus, are famous for a single poem; and the rhapsode is
the inspired interpreter of the poet, and for a similar reason some
rhapsodes, like Ion, are the interpreters of single poets.
Ion is delighted at the notion of being inspired, and acknowledges that
he is beside himself when he is performing;--his eyes rain tears and his
hair stands on end. Socrates is of opinion that a man must be mad who
behaves in this way at a festival when he is surrounded by his friends
and there is nothing to trouble him. Ion is confident that Socrates
would never think him mad if he could only hear his embellishments
of Homer. Socrates asks whether he can speak well about everything
in Homer. 'Yes, indeed he can.' 'What about things of which he has no
knowledge?' Ion answers that he can interpret anything in Homer. But,
rejoins Socrates, when Homer speaks of the arts, as for example, of
chariot-driving, or of medicine, or of prophecy, or of navigation--will
he, or will the charioteer or physician or prophet or pilot be the
better judge? Ion is compelled to admit that every man will judge of
his own particular art better than the rhapsode. He still maintains,
however, that he understands the art of the general as well as any one.
'Then why in this city of Athens, in which men of merit are always being
sought after, is he not at once appointed a general?' Ion replies that
he is a foreigner, and the Athenians and Spartans will not appoint a
foreigner to be their general. 'No, that is not the real reason; there
are many examples to the contrary. But Ion has long been playing tricks
with the argument; like Proteus, he transforms himself into a variety of
shapes, and is at last about to run away in the
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APPEAL TO THOSE RESPECTABLE PERSONAGES IN GREAT-BRITAIN AND IRELAND, WHO,
BY THEIR GREAT AND PERMANENT INTEREST IN LANDED PROPERTY, THEIR LIBERAL
EDUCATION, ELEVATED RANK, AND ENLARGED VIEWS, ARE THE ABLEST TO JUDGE, AND
THE FITTEST TO DECIDE, WHETHER A CONNECTION WITH, OR A SEPARATION FROM THE
CONTINENTAL COLONIES OF AMERICA, BE MOST FOR THE NATIONAL ADVANTAGE, AND
THE LASTING BENEFIT OF THESE KINGDOMS***
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Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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See 32557-h.htm or 32557-h.zip:
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AN
HUMBLE ADDRESS
AND
EARNEST APPEAL
TO
THOSE RESPECTABLE PERSONAGES
IN GREAT-BRITAIN AND IRELAND,
WHO,
BY THEIR GREAT AND PERMANENT INTEREST
IN LANDED PROPERTY,
THEIR LIBERAL EDUCATION, ELEVATED RANK,
AND ENLARGED VIEWS,
ARE THE ABLEST TO JUDGE, AND THE FITTEST TO DECIDE,
WHETHER A
CONNECTION WITH, OR A SEPARATION FROM
THE
CONTINENTAL COLONIES OF AMERICA,
BE MOST FOR THE NATIONAL ADVANTAGE, AND THE
LASTING BENEFIT OF THESE KINGDOMS.
_Suis et ipsa Roma viribus ruit._ HOR.
BY JOSIAH TUCKER, D. D.
DEAN OF GLOCESTER.
GLOCESTER:
PRINTED BY R. RAIKES;
AND SOLD BY
T. CADELL, IN THE STRAND, LONDON.
M.DCC.LXXV.
AN HUMBLE ADDRESS, &c.
MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN,
Though the Author of the ensuing Tract may be below your Notice, as an
Individual, yet the Subject he treats upon, highly deserves your most
serious Attention. In the present unhappy Disputes between the
Parent-State and the Colonies, he undertakes to point out, what Measures
the Landed-Interest of _Great-Britain_ and _Ireland_ ought to pursue in
future, for the Sake of themselves and their Posterity. And if what he has
to offer, should, after a due Examination, be found to be reasonable,
solid, and satisfactory, he relies so much on your own good Sense and
Judgment, as to believe, that you will not reject his Plan, merely because
it originated from an inferior Hand. This is all the Favour he asks, or
expects from you.
Upon this Subject, he waves the Consideration of every Thing, which might
have a Tendency to keep the present Question out of Sight. _Great-Britain_
and her Colonies are now at open War. THIS IS THE FACT. But if it should
be asked, How these Things came to pass? From what Causes did they spring?
Which are the real, and which are the apparent Motives in this
Controversy? Moreover, who were originally and principally to blame? And
what Methods ought to have been taken at first, in order to have prevented
Matters from coming to their present Height?--The Author having already
given his Sentiments on each of these Heads in his 3d, 4th, and 5th
preceding Tracts, and also in his Letter to Mr. BURKE, will not here
repeat the same Things.--The grand Object now before him is simply this;
_Great Britain and her Colonies are at open War_: And the proper and
important Question arising from such a Fact is the following, _What is to
be done at the present Crisis?_
Three Schemes have been proposed;--the Parliamentary,--Mr. BURKE's,--and
my own.
The Parliamentary Scheme is,--To maintain _vi et armis_ the Supremacy of
the Mother-Country over her Colonies, in as full and ample a Manner, as
over any Part of the _British_ Dominions.
Mr. BURKE's is, [tho' not in express _Words_] To resign or relinquish the
Power of the _British_ Parliament over the Colonies, and to erect each
Provincial Assembly into an independent _American_ Parliament;--subject
nevertheless to the King of _Great-Britain_, with his usual
Prerogatives:--For which Favour of acknowledging the same Sovereign, the
Colonists are to be complimented with the most precious Rights,
Privileges, and Advantages of _British_ Subjects:--I say, _complimented_,
and
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THE WHITE BLACKBIRD
BY HUDSON DOUGLAS
AUTHOR OF "A MILLION A MINUTE," "THE LANTERN OF LUCK," ETC
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY
HERMAN PFEIFER
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1912
_Copyright, 1912_,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved, including those of translation into
foreign languages, including the Scandinavian_
Published, September, 1912
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
FOR
ISOBEL MY WIFE
AND
OUR DAUGHTER ISOBEL
[Illustration: "Feel my pulse now, before you go," the pseudo-doctor's
patient commanded.]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A TROPICAL DISCUSSION 1
II. "DUTCH COURAGE" 11
III. EL FARISH 18
IV. THE MASQUE OF DEATH 28
V. AFLOAT AND ASHORE 38
VI. HOBSON'S CHOICE 51
VII. THE WHITE BLACKBIRD 64
VIII. UNMASKED 80
IX. AN OVERDRAFT ON THE FUTURE 91
X. THE GODDESS OF CHANCE 107
XI. A FOOL AND HIS FORTUNE 119
XII. THE PRICE OF FREEDOM 130
XIII. A MASTERSTROKE 143
XIV. "SALLIE HARRIS" 156
XV. THE LAW--AND THE PROFITS 169
XVI. "PLEASURES AND PALACES" 184
XVII. THE MAN IN POSSESSION 195
XVIII. THE LOSER 205
XIX. THE WINNER 217
XX. BEGGAR-MY-NEIGHBOUR 232
XXI. THE JURA SUCCESSION 243
XXII. THE PARTY OF THE FIRST PART 259
XXIII. A NEW IDEA 271
XXIV. BY RIGHT OF PURCHASE 280
XXV. THE WHITE LADY 295
XXVI. A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH 306
XXVII. DEBIT AND CREDIT 320
XXVIII. ISHMAEL'S HERITAGE 332
XXIX. PRIDE'S PRICE 342
XXX. THE TENTH EARL 350
XXXI. "AT THE END OF THE PASSAGE" 358
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"FEEL MY PULSE NOW, BEFORE YOU GO," THE PSEUDO-DOCTOR'S
PATIENT COMMANDED. (_SEE PAGE 32_) _frontispiece_
"YOU WON'T FORGET," HE URGED, GRAVE AGAIN 89
SOMETHING VERY LIKE FEAR LOOKED OUT OF HIS EYES 258
SHE TOUCHED WITH HER LIPS THE BACK OF THE TOIL-STAINED
HAND 322
The White Blackbird
CHAPTER I
A TROPICAL DISCUSSION
"I'd far rather beg in the gutter than marry you, Jasper!" flashed the
girl, at last goaded past all patience. Her clouded, indignant eyes
expressed both contempt and aversion for the young man leaning over the
deck-rail beside her.
He was still a young man as years go and in spite of the grey streaks in
his dark hair, the crow's-feet above his cheek-bones; more than passably
good-looking, too, with his regular profile and straight, spare,
athletic figure, though his sleepy eyes were a trifle close-set and more
than a trifle untrustworthy, though the black moustache he was twirling
with a long, thin, almost womanish hand hid a cruel, selfish mouth.
In his smart white yachting-suit and panama, lounging over the sun-dried
teak taffrail with his knees crossed, he seemed to be neither oppressed
by the tropical heat nor impressed at all by anything that his companion
could say.
"I'd _far_ rather beg in the gutter," she repeated, as if to settle the
matter. And the emphasis with which she spoke showed that she meant what
she said.
"But--that doesn't make any difference, my dear Sallie," he once more
answered, displaying his white, even teeth in a slight, amused smile.
"You're going to marry me just the same. And you may as well make up
your mind right away--that it will pay you best to be pleasant about it.
"Captain Dove has come to the point at last," he went on to explain
condescendingly, in the same cool, careless, conversational tone, a
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MY
LITTLE BOY
_by
CARL EWALD_
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH
BY
ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS
MY LITTLE BOY
COPYRIGHT 1906 BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
SOLE AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION
REPRINTED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PUBLISHERS. NO PART OF THIS
WORK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
_MY LITTLE BOY_
I
My little boy is beginning to live.
Carefully, stumbling now and then on his little knock-kneed legs, he
makes his way over the paving-stones, looks at everything that there is
to look at and bites at every apple, both those which are his due and
those which are forbidden him.
He is not a pretty child and is the more likely to grow into a fine lad.
But he is charming.
His face can light up suddenly and become radiant; he can look at you
with quite cold eyes. He has a strong intuition and he is incorruptible.
He has never yet bartered a kiss for barley-sugar. There are people whom
he likes and people whom he dislikes. There is one who has long courted
his favour indefatigably and in vain; and, the other day, he formed a
close friendship with another who had not so much as said "Good day" to
him before he had crept into her lap and nestled there with glowing
resolution.
He has a habit which I love.
When we are walking together and there is anything that impresses him,
he lets go my hand for a moment. Then, when he has investigated the
phenomenon and arrived at a result, I feel his little fist in mine
again.
He has bad habits too.
He is apt, for instance, suddenly and without the slightest reason, to
go up to people whom he meets in the street and hit them with his little
stick. What is in his mind, when he does so, I do not know; and, so long
as he does not hit me, it remains a matter between himself and the
people concerned.
He has an odd trick of seizing big words in a grown-up conversation,
storing them up for a while and then asking me for an explanation:
"Father," he says, "what is life?"
I give him a tap in his little stomach, roll him over on the carpet and
conceal my emotion under a mighty romp. Then, when we sit breathless and
tired, I answer, gravely:
"Life is delightful, my little boy. Don't you be afraid of it!"
II
Today my little boy gave me my first lesson.
It was in the garden.
I was writing in the shade of the big chestnut-tree, close to where the
brook flows past. He was sitting a little way off, on the grass, in the
sun, with Hans Christian Andersen in his lap.
Of course, he does not know how to read, but he lets you read to him,
likes to hear the same tales over and over again. The better he knows
them, the better he is pleased. He follows the story page by page, knows
exactly where everything comes and catches you up immediately should you
skip a line.
There are two tales which he loves more than anything in the world.
These are Grimm's _Faithful John_ and Andersen's _The Little Mermaid_.
When anyone comes whom he likes, he fetches the big Grimm, with those
heaps of pictures, and asks for _Faithful John_. Then, if the reader
stops, because it is so terribly sad, with all those little dead
children, a bright smile lights up his small, long face and he says,
reassuringly and pleased at "knowing better":
"Yes, but they come to life again."
Today, however, it is _The Little Mermaid_.
"Is that the sort of stories you write?" he asks.
"Yes," I say, "but I am afraid mine will not be so pretty."
"You must take pains," he says.
And I promise.
For a time he makes no sound. I go on writing and forget about him.
"Is there a little mermaid down there, in the water?" he asks.
"Yes, she swims up to the top in the summer."
He nods and looks out across the brook, which ripples so softly and
smoothly that one can hardly see the water flow. On the opposite side,
the rushes grow green and thick and there is also a bird, hidden in the
rushes, which sings. The dragon-flies are whirling and humming. I am
sitting with my head in my hand, absorbed in my work.
Suddenly, I hear a splash.
I jump from my chair, upset the table, dart forward and see that my
little boy is gone. The brook is billowing and foaming; there are wide
circles on the surface.
In a moment, I am in the water and find him and catch hold of him.
He stands on the grass, dripping with wet, spluttering and coughing. His
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Transcriber's Notes
This is a Plain Text version. It uses the 7-bit ASCII character set.
Accented characters are represented as follows:
['a] indicates the acute accent
[e'] indicates the grave accent
[^i] indicates the circumflex accent
[:u] indicates the umlaut
The following are used to represent special characters and marks:
[~d] [~r] [~n] indicates a tilde above d, r, n
[p=] indicates a line below p
[=o] [=co] [=xon] indicate an overline above 1, 2 or 3 characters
[^p] indicates an inverted breve above p
[oe] indicates an oe ligature
[L] indicates the pound (Sterling) sign
[S] indicates the Section symbol
Italic typeface in the original is indicated with _underscores_. Bold
typeface in the original is indicated by UPPER CASE. Small capital
typeface in the original is indicated by UPPER CASE.
There are a large number of footnotes. These have been grouped together
at end of each chapter or major section in which they are referenced.
There are numerous quotations from documents in German, French and
archaic English which use many abbreviations, variant spellings and
inconsistent spellings. These are retained, except where obvious typo
corrections are listed at the end of this document.
* * * * *
STUDIES IN ECONOMICS AND POLITICAL SCIENCE.
EDIT
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The Project Gutenberg Etext of Jacqueline by Th. Bentzon (Mme. Blanc), v1
#55 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy
#1 in our series by Th. Bentzon (Mme. Blanc)
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Title: Jacqueline, v1
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THE PAN-ANGLES
{ii}
{iii}
THE PAN-ANGLES
A CONSIDERATION OF THE FEDERATION OF THE SEVEN ENGLISH-SPEAKING
NATIONS
BY
SINCLAIR KENNEDY
_WITH A MAP_
SECOND IMPRESSION
LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.
FOURTH AVENUE & 30TH STREET, NEW YORK
LONDON, BOMBAY. CALCUTTA AND MADRAS
1915
_All Rights Reserved_
{iv}
{v}
TO
THE PAN-ANGLES
{vi}
PREFATORY NOTE
THE Author is indebted to the following publishers and authors
for kind permission to make quotations from copyright matter: to
Mr. Edward Arnold for _Colonial Nationalism_, by Richard Jebb;
to Mr. B. H. Blackwell for _Imperial Architects_, by A. L. Burt;
to the Delegates of the Clarendon Press for _Federations and
Unions_, by H. E. Egerton; to Messrs. Constable & Co. for
_Alexander Hamilton_, by F. S. Oliver, and _The Nation and the
Empire_, edited by Lord Milner; to the publishers of the
_Encyclopedia Britannica_; to Messrs. Macmillan & Co. for
Seeley's _Expansion of England_, and G. L. Parkin's _Imperial
Federation_; to Admiral Mahan; to Mr. John Murray for _English
Colonization and Empire_, by A. Caldecott; to Sir Isaac Pitman &
Sons Ltd. for _The Union of South Africa_, by W. B. Worsfold; to
the Executors of the late W. T. Stead for the _Last Will and
Testament of C. J. Rhodes_; to Messrs. H. Stevens, Son, & Stiles
for _Thomas Pownall_, by
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Proofreaders
[Illustration]
BRED IN THE BONE; OR, LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON
A Novel.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
"A BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK," "GWENDOLINE'S HARVEST," "CARLYON'S YEAR," "ONE
OF THE FAMILY," "WON--NOT WOOED," &c.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_.
NEW YORK: 1872.
CHAPTER I.
CAREW OF CROMPTON.
Had you lived in Breakneckshire twenty years ago, or even any where in
the Midlands, it would be superfluous to tell you of Carew of Crompton.
Every body thereabout was acquainted with him either personally or by
hearsay. You must almost certainly have known somebody who had had an
adventure with that eccentric personage--one who had been ridden down by
him, for that mighty hunter never turned to the right hand nor to the
left for any man, nor paid attention to any rule of road; or one who,
more fortunate, had been "cleared" by him on his famous black horse
_Trebizond_, an animal only second to his master in the popular esteem.
There are as many highly pictures of his performance of this
flying feat in existence as there are of "Dick Turpin clearing the
Turnpikegate." Sometimes it is a small tradesman cowering down in his
cart among the calves, while the gallant Squire hurtles over him with a
"Stoop your head, butcher." Sometimes it is a wagoner, reminding one of
Commodore Trunnion's involuntary deed of "derring-do," who, between two
high banks, perceives with marked astonishment this portent flying over
himself and convoy. But, at all events, the thing was done; perhaps on
more than one occasion, and was allowed on all hands not only as a fact,
but as characteristic of their sporting idol. It was "Carew all over,"
or "Just like Carew."
This phrase was also applied to many other heroic actions. The idea of
"keel-hauling," for instance, adapted from the nautical code, was said
to be practically enforced in the case of duns, attorneys, and other
objectionable persons, in the lake at Crompton; while the administration
of pommelings to poachers and agriculturists generally, by the athletic
Squire, was the theme of every tongue. These punishments, though severe,
were much sought after by a certain class, the same to which the
purchased free and independent voter belongs, for the clenched fist
invariably became an open hand after it had done its work--a golden
ointment, that is, was always applied after these inflictions, such as
healed all wounds.
Carew of Crompton might at one time have been member for the county, if
he had pleased; but he desired no seat except in the saddle, or on the
driving-box. He showed such skill in riding, and with "the ribbons,"
that some persons supposed that his talents must be very considerable in
other matters, and affected to regret their misuse; there were reports
that he knew Latin better than his own chaplain; and was, or had been,
so diligent a student of Holy Writ, that he could give you chapter and
verse for every thing. But it must be allowed that others were not
wanting to whisper that these traits of scholarship were greatly
exaggerated, and that all the wonder lay in the fact that the Squire
knew any thing of such matters at all; nay, a few even ventured to
express their opinion that, but for his recklessness and his money,
there was nothing more remarkable in Carew than in other spendthrifts;
but this idea was never mooted within twenty miles of Crompton. The real
truth is, that the time was unsuitable to the display of the Squire's
particular traits. He would have been an eminent personage had he been a
Norman, and lived in the reign of King John. Even now, if he could have
removed his establishment to Poland, and assumed the character of a
Russian proprietor, he would doubtless have been a great prince. There
was a savage magnificence about him, and also certain degrading traits,
which suggested the Hetman Platoff. Unfortunately, he was a Squire in
the Midlands. The contrast, however, of his splendid vagaries with the
quiet time and industrious locality in which he lived, while it
diminished his influence, did, on the other hand, no doubt enhance his
reputation. He was looked upon (as Waterford and Mytton used to be) as a
_lusus naturae_, an eccentric, an altogether exceptional personage, to
whom license was permitted; and the charitable divided the human race,
for his sake, into Men, Women, and Care
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Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: Minor spelling and punctuation errors have been
corrected but accents are retained as printed: inconsistently. The
exception is the replacement of A’ with Á, and so on.
EXERCISES
UPON THE DIFFERENT
PARTS OF ITALIAN SPEECH
WITH
REFERENCES
TO
_VENERONI’S GRAMMAR:_
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
AN ABRIDGMENT OF THE ROMAN HISTORY,
INTENDED AT ONCE TO MAKE THE LEARNER ACQUAINTED WITH
HISTORY, AND THE IDIOM OF THE ITALIAN LANGUAGE.
By F. BOTTARELLI, A. M.
The EIGHTH EDITION, carefully revised and corrected.
By G. B. ROLANDI.
_LONDON:_
PRINTED FOR J. COLLINGWOOD; LONGMAN, HURST, REES
ORME
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http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by the Library of Congress)
* * * * *
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For |
| a complete list, please see the end of this document. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
* * * * *
[Illustration: ARMSTRONG GUN FROM FORT FISHER.]
GUIDE
TO
WEST POINT,
AND THE
U.S. MILITARY ACADEMY.
WITH
MAPS AND ENGRAVINGS.
NEW YORK:
D. VAN NOSTRAND, 192 BROADWAY.
1867.
GUIDE TO WEST POINT.
Fifty-one miles above New York, on the west bank of the Hudson river,
in the midst of scenery of the most picturesque and impressive
character, and on a bold shelving plateau, formed by the crossing of a
range of the Alleghany Mountains, which here assume almost Alpine
proportions, is a name dear to every lover of his country--a name
replete with memories of the struggle for Independence, and clustering
with historic associations.
WEST POINT, the property of the United States by purchase, possesses a
primary interest from its military importance during the period of the
American Revolution, and a secondary one from its being the seat of
the National Military Academy. The creative hand of natural
beauty--the romance of war--the distinguished career of those who
have gone forth from this locality in the defense of American Liberty,
and the spectacle presented by those preparing for future public
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber Note
Text emphasis is denoted as _Italic Text._
_Barr's Buffon._
Buffon's Natural History.
CONTAINING
A THEORY OF THE EARTH,
A GENERAL
_HISTORY OF MAN_,
OF THE BRUTE CREATION, AND OF
VEGETABLES, MINERALS,
_&c. &c._
FROM THE FRENCH.
WITH NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR.
IN TEN VOLUMES.
VOL. IX.
London:
PRINTED FOR THE PROPRIETOR,
AND SOLD BY H. D. SYMONDS, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1807.
T. Gillet, Crown-court, Fleet-street.
CONTENTS
OF
THE NINTH VOLUME
_Page_
_The Loris_ 1
_The Javelin Bat_ 3
_The Serval_ 6
_The Ocelot_ 9
_The Margay_ 13
_The Jackal and the Adil_ 17
_The Isatis_ 25
_The Glutton_ 29
_The Stinkards_
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the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
* * * * *
THE KNICKERBOCKER.
VOL. XXII. NOVEMBER, 1843. NO. 5.
THOUGHTS ON IMMORTALITY.
BY A NEW CONTRIBUTOR.
THERE are those who reject the idea of a future state; or, at
least, who deny that they ought to be convinced of its reality,
because reasoning, in the method of the sciences, does not appear
to prove it to them; although they acknowledge how natural it is
for man to anticipate a future existence. I have thought that such
persons might be included in a similitude like the following. Let
us suppose a young bee, just returning from his first excursion
abroad, bearing his load of honey. He has been in a labyrinth of
various directions, and far from his native home; winding among
trees and their branches, and stopping to sip from numerous flowers.
He has even been taken, by one bearing no good-will to the little
community of which he is a member, and carried onward, without being
permitted a sight of the objects which he passed, that he might
estimate aright his new direction. Notwithstanding, he is winging
his way with unerring precision to the place where his little load
is to be deposited. Not more exactly does the needle tend to the
pole, than the line he is drawing points toward his store-house. But
in this he is governed by no such considerations of distance and
direction as enable the skilful navigator so beautifully to select
his way along the pathless ocean. He has no data, by reasoning from
which, as the geometrician reasons, he may determine that his course
bears so many degrees to the right or so many to the left. He has
never been taught to mark the right ascension of hill-tops, nor
to estimate latitude and longitude from the trees. He is governed
in his progress by that indescribable and mysterious principle of
instinct alone, which, although developed in man, produces its
most surprising effects in the brute creation. But here, as he is
going onward thus swiftly and surely, by some creative power a vast
addition is made to his previous character. All at once he becomes a
reasoning being, possessed of all the faculties which are found in
the philosopher. He is endowed with judgment, that he may compare,
and consciousness and reflection, to make him a metaphysician. Nor
is he slow to exercise these newly-acquired faculties.
Among other things, his consciousness tells him that he is impressed
with a deep presentiment of something greatly desirable in the
far distance toward which he supposes his course to be fast and
directly tending. Perhaps he has a memory of the place he left, of
the business there going on, and of the part which he is taking in
it. Probably his strong impression is, that he is fast advancing
toward that place; that he expects the greeting of his friends of
the swarm. Possibly he finds his bosom even now beginning to swell
in anticipation of the praise which shall be bestowed on his early
manifestation of industry and virtue. Perhaps his recollections are
more vague; and accordingly his consciousness only tells him that he
thinks of something requiring him to urge onward in that particular
direction, but of which he realizes no very definite idea.
But here Reason interrupts him: 'Why are you pursuing this course
so fast? I see nothing to attract your attention so strongly.' 'I
am going to a place lying this way,' says the bee, 'where I can
deposite my load in safety, which I am anxious to do quickly, that I
may return for another.' 'But,' says Reason, 'what evidence have you
that the place lies this way?' Here Philosophy whispers: 'You should
not act without evidence; it becomes no reasonable creature to do
so;' but Reason continues: 'There are many points in the horizon
beside that you are making for; and I see not why one of them is not
as likely to be the place as another.'
This rather staggered the bee at first; for he had no recollection
of courses and distances taken, by a comparison of which he could
prove his true direction; but suddenly he said: 'Why, I am so
strongly impressed that this is the course, that I cannot doubt
it.' 'But what signify your strong impressions,' says Reason, 'if
they are not founded on any evidence? Were you ever
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THE STORY HOUR
A BOOK FOR THE HOME AND THE KINDERGARTEN
By Kate Douglas Wiggin and Nora A. Smith
Therefore ear and heart open to the genuine story teller, as flowers
open to the spring sun and the May rain.
FRIEDRICH FROEBEL
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION. Kate Douglas Wiggin
PREFACE. Kate Douglas Wiggin and Nora A. Smith
THE ORIOLE'S NEST. Kate Douglas Wiggin
DICKY SMILY'S BIRTHDAY. Kate Douglas Wiggin
AQUA; OR, THE WATER BABY. Kate Douglas Wiggin
MOUFFLOU. Adapted from Ouida by Nora A. Smith
BENJY IN BEASTLAND. Adapted from Mrs. Ewing by Kate Douglas Wiggin and
Nora A. Smith
THE PORCELAIN STOVE. Adapted from Ouida by Kate Douglas Wiggin
THE BABES IN THE WOOD. E. S. Smith
THE STORY OF CHRISTMAS. Nora A. Smith
THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY. Nora A. Smith
LITTLE GEORGE WASHINGTON. Part I. Nora A. Smith
GREAT GEORGE WASHINGTON. Part II. Nora A. Smith
THE MAPLE-LEAF AND THE VIOLET. Nora A. Smith
MRS. CHINCHILLA. Kate Douglas Wiggin
A STORY OF THE FOREST. Nora A. Smith
PICCOLA. Nora A. Smith
THE CHILD AND THE WORLD. Kate Douglas Wiggin
WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL. Kate Douglas Wiggin
FROEBEL'S BIRTHDAY. Nora A. Smith
INTRODUCTION.
Story-telling, like letter-writing, is going out of fashion. There are
no modern Scheherezades, and the Sultans nowadays have to be amused in
a different fashion. But, for that matter, a hundred poetic pastimes
of leisure have fled before the relentless Hurry Demon who governs this
prosaic nineteenth century. The Wandering Minstrel is gone, and the
Troubadour, and the Court of Love, and the King's Fool, and the Round
Table, and with them the Story-Teller.
"Come, tell us a story!" It is the familiar plea of childhood. Unhappy
he who has not been assailed with it again and again. Thrice miserable
she who can be consigned to worse than oblivion by the scathing
criticism, "She doesn't know any stories!" and thrice blessed she who
is recognized at a glance as a person likely to be full to the brim of
them.
There are few preliminaries and no formalities when the Person with a
Story is found. The motherly little sister stands by the side of her
chair, two or three of the smaller fry perch on the arms, and the baby
climbs up into her lap (such a person always has a capacious lap), and
folds his fat hands placidly. Then there is a deep sigh of blissful
expectation and an expressive silence, which means, "Now we are ready,
please; and if you would be kind enough to begin it with 'Once upon a
time,' we should be much obliged; though of course we understand that
all the stories in the world can't commence that way, delightful as it
would be."
The Person with a Story smiles obligingly (at least it is to be hoped
that she does), and retires into a little corner of her brain, to
rummage there for something just fitted to the occasion. That same
little corner is densely populated, if she is a lover of children. In
it are all sorts of heroic dogs, wonderful monkeys, intelligent cats,
naughty kittens; virtues masquerading seductively as fairies, and vices
hiding in imps; birds agreeing and disagreeing in their little nests,
and inevitable small boys in the act of robbing them; busy bees laying
up their winter stores, and idle butterflies disgracefully neglecting
to do the same; and then a troop of lost children, disobedient children,
and lazy, industrious, generous, or heedless ones, waiting to furnish
the thrilling climaxes. The Story-Teller selects a hero or heroine
out of this motley crowd,--all longing to be introduced to Bright-Eye,
Fine-Ear, Kind-Heart, and Sweet-Lips,--and speedily the drama opens
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HIS OWN PEOPLE
by Booth Tarkington
I. A Change of Lodging
The glass-domed "palm-room" of the Grand Continental Hotel Magnifique in
Rome is of vasty heights and distances, filled with a mellow green light
which filters down languidly through the upper foliage of tall palms,
so that the two hundred people who may be refreshing or displaying
themselves there at the tea-hour have something the look of under-water
creatures playing upon the sea-bed. They appear, however, to be unaware
of their condition; even the ladies, most like anemones of that
gay assembly, do not seem to know it; and when the Hungarian band
(crustacean-like in costume, and therefore well within the picture)
has sheathed its flying tentacles and withdrawn by dim processes, the
tea-drinkers all float out through the doors, instead of bubbling up
and away through the filmy roof. In truth, some such exit as that was
imagined for them by a young man who remained in the aquarium after they
had all gone, late one afternoon of last winter. They had been marvelous
enough, and to him could have seemed little more so had they made such a
departure. He could almost have gone that way himself, so charged was
he with the uplift of his belief that, in spite of the brilliant
strangeness of the hour just past, he had been no fish out of water.
While the waiters were clearing the little tables, he leaned back in his
chair in a content so rich it was nearer ecstasy. He could not bear to
disturb the possession joy had taken of him, and, like a half-awake boy
clinging to a dream that his hitherto unkind sweetheart has kissed him,
lingered on in the enchanted atmosphere, his eyes still full of all they
had beheld with such delight, detaining and smiling upon each revelation
of this fresh memory--the flashingly lovely faces, the dreamily lovely
faces, the pearls and laces of the anemone ladies, the color and
romantic fashion of the uniforms, and the old princes who had been
pointed out to him: splendid old men wearing white mustaches and single
eye-glasses, as he had so long hoped and dreamed they did.
"Mine own people!" he whispered. "I have come unto mine own at last.
Mine own people!" After long waiting (he told himself), he had seen
them--the people he had wanted to see, wanted to know, wanted to
be _of!_ Ever since he had begun to read of the "beau monde" in his
schooldays, he had yearned to know some such sumptuous reality as that
which had come true to-day, when, at last, in Rome he had seen--as he
wrote home that night--"the finest essence of Old-World society mingling
in Cosmopolis."
Artificial odors (too heavy to keep up with the crowd that had
worn them) still hung about him; he breathed them deeply, his eyes
half-closed and his lips noiselessly formed themselves to a quotation
from one of his own poems:
While trails of scent, like cobweb's films
Slender and faint and rare,
Of roses, and rich, fair fabrics,
Cling on the stirless air,
The sibilance of voices,
At a wave of Milady's glove,
Is stilled--
He stopped short, interrupting himself with a half-cough of laughter as
he remembered the inspiration of these verses. He had written them three
months ago, at home in Cranston, Ohio, the evening after Anna McCord's
"coming-out tea." "Milady" meant Mrs. McCord; she had "stilled" the
conversation of her guests when Mary Kramer (whom the poem called a
"sweet, pale singer") rose to sing Mavourneen; and the stanza closed
with the right word to rhyme with "glove." He felt a contemptuous pity
for his little, untraveled, provincial self of three months ago, if,
indeed, it could have been himself who wrote verses about Anna McCord's
"coming-out tea" and referred to poor, good old Mrs. McCord as "Milady"!
The second stanza had intimated a conviction of a kind which only poets
may reveal:
She sang to that great assembly,
They thought, as they praised her tone;
But she and my heart knew better:
Her song was for me alone.
He had told the truth when he wrote of Mary Kramer as pale and sweet,
and she was paler, but no less sweet, when he came to say good-by to
her before he sailed. Her face, as it was at the final moment of the
protracted farewell, shone before him very clearly now for a moment:
young, plaintive, white, too lamentably honest to conceal how much her
"God-speed" to him cost her. He came very near telling her how fond of
her he had always been; came near giving up his great trip to remain
with her always.
"Ah!" He shivered as one shivers at the thought of disaster narrowly
averted. "The fates were good that I only came near it!"
He took from his breast-pocket an engraved card, without having to
search for it, because during the few days the card had been in his
possession the action had become a habit.
"Comtesse de Vaurigard," was the name engraved, and below was written in
pencil: "To remember Monsieur Robert Russ Mellin he promise to come to
tea Hotel Magnifique, Roma, at five o'clock Thursday."
There had been disappointment in the first stages of his journey, and
that had gone hard with Mellin. Europe had been his goal so long, and
his hopes of pleasure grew so high when (after his years of saving and
putting by, bit by bit, out of his salary in a real-estate office)
he drew actually near the shining horizon. But London, his first
stopping-place, had given him some dreadful days. He knew nobody, and
had not understood how heavily sheer loneliness--which was something he
had never felt until then--would weigh upon his spirits. In Cranston,
where the young people "grew up together
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The Woman in White
by
Wilkie Collins
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Produced by Charles Franks, Chuck Greif and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Every attempt has been made to replicate the original as printed. Archaic
spellings, such as antient, expence, shew, inrolment, chearfully &
encrease, have been retained. Illustrations have been moved from
mid-paragraph for ease of reading. (etext transcriber's note)
THE WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING
EDITED BY
GEORGE SAINTSBURY
IN TWELVE VOLUMES
VOL. XI.
MISCELLANIES
VOL. I.
[Illustration: frontispiece]
A JOURNEY FROM THIS WORLD
TO THE NEXT AND A VOYAGE
TO LISBON BY
HENRY FIELDING ESQ
[Illustration: text decoration]
EDITED BY GEORGE
SAINTSBURY WITH
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HERBERT RAILTON
& F. J. WHEELER.
LONDON PUBLISHED BY J. M. DENT & CO.
AT ALDINE HOUSE IN GREAT EASTERN
STREET MDCCCXCIII
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION xi
A JOURNEY FROM THIS WORLD
TO THE NEXT, ETC. ETC.
INTRODUCTION 1
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
_The author dies, meets with Mercury, and is by him conducted
to the stage which sets out for the other world_ 4
CHAPTER II.
_In which the author first refutes some idle opinions concerning
spirits, and then the passengers relate their several deaths_ 7
CHAPTER III.
_The adventures we met with in the City of Diseases_ 12
CHAPTER IV.
_Discourses on the road, and a description of the palace of Death_ 20
CHAPTER V.
_The travellers proceed on their journey, and meet several
spirits who are coming into the flesh_ 23
CHAPTER VI.
_An account of the wheel of fortune, with a method of preparing
a spirit for this world_ 28
CHAPTER VII.
_The proceedings of judge Minos at the gate of Elysium_ 31
CHAPTER VIII.
_The adventures which the author met on his first entrance
into Elysium_ 37
CHAPTER IX.
_More adventures in Elysium_ 40
CHAPTER X.
_The author is surprised at meeting Julian the apostate in
Elysium; but is satisfied by him by what means he procured
his entrance there. Julian relates his adventures in the character
of a slave_ 44
CHAPTER XI.
_In which Julian relates his adventures in the character of
an avaricious Jew_ 52
CHAPTER XII.
_What happened to Julian in the characters of a general, an
heir, a carpenter, and a beau_ 56
CHAPTER XIII.
_Julian passes into a fop_ 61
CHAPTER XIV
_Adventures in the person of a monk_ 62
CHAPTER XV.
_Julian passes into the character of a fidler_ 64
CHAPTER XVI.
_The history of the wise man_ 69
CHAPTER XVII.
_Julian enters into the person of a king_ 77
CHAPTER XVIII.
_Julian passes into a fool_ 84
CHAPTER XIX.
_Julian appears in the character of a beggar_ 89
CHAPTER XX.
_Julian performs the part of a statesman_ 95
CHAPTER XXI.
_Julian's adventures in the post of a soldier_ 102
CHAPTER XXII.
_What happened to Julian in the person of a taylor_ 108
CHAPTER XXIII.
_The life of alderman Julian_ 112
CHAPTER XXIV.
_Julian recounts what happened to him while he was a poet_ 118
CHAPTER XXV.
_Julian performs the parts of a knight and a dancing-master_ 122
BOOK XIX.
CHAPTER VII.
_Wherein Anna Boleyn relates the history of her life_ 125
THE JOURNAL OF A VOYAGE TO
LISBON.
PAGE
DEDICATION TO THE PUBLIC 145
PREFACE 147
INTRODUCTION 156
THE VOYAGE 169
[Illustration: text decoration]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FIELDING'S TOMB AT LISBON _Frontispiece_
I DESIRED HIM MUCH TO NAME A PRICE _
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E-text prepared by Meredith Bach and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/futureofenglishp00gossuoft
The English Association
Pamphlet No. 25
THE FUTURE OF ENGLISH POETRY
by
EDMUND GOSSE, C.B.
June, 1913
A copy of this pamphlet is supplied to all full members of the
Association. They can obtain further copies (price 1_s._) on application
to the Secretary, Mr. A. V. Houghton, Imperial College Union, South
Kensington, London, S.W.
The English Association
Pamphlet No. 25
THE FUTURE OF ENGLISH POETRY
by
EDMUND GOSSE, C.B.
June, 1913
THE FUTURE OF ENGLISH POETRY
J'ai vu le cheval rose ouvrir ses ailes d'or,
Et, flairant le laurier que je tenais encor,
Verdoyant a jamais, hier comme aujourd'hui,
Se cabrer vers le Jour et ruer vers la Nuit.
HENRI DE REGNIER.
In venturing this afternoon to address an audience accustomed to listen to
those whose positive authority is universally recognized, and in taking
for my theme a subject not, like theirs, distinct in its definitions or
consecrated by tradition and history, I am aware that I perform what you
may, if you choose, call an act of blameworthy audacity. My subject is
chimerical, vague, and founded on conjectures which you may well believe
yourselves at least as well fitted as I am to propound. Nevertheless, and
in no rash or paradoxical spirit, I invite you to join with me in some
reflections on what is the probable course of English poetry during, let
us say, the next hundred years. If I happen to be right, I hope some of
the youngest persons present will say, when I am long turned to dust, what
an illuminating prophet I was. If I happen to be wrong, why, no one will
remember anything at all about the matter. In any case we may possibly be
rewarded this afternoon by some agreeable hopes and by the contemplation
of some pleasant analogies.
Our title takes for granted that English poetry[1] will continue, with
whatever fluctuations, to be a living and abiding thing. This I must
suppose that you all accede to, and that you do not look upon poetry as an
art which is finished, or the harvest of classic verse as one which is
fully reaped and garnered. That has been believed at one time and another,
in various parts of the globe. I will mention one instance in the history
of our own time: a quarter of a century ago, the practice of writing verse
was deliberately abandoned in the literatures of the three Scandinavian
countries, but particularly in that of Norway, where no poetry, in our
sense, was written from about 1873 to 1885. It almost died out here in
England in the middle of the fifteenth century; it ran very low in France
at the end of the Middle Ages. But all these instances, whether ancient or
modern, of the attempt to prove prose a sufficing medium for all
expression of human thought have hitherto failed, and it is now almost
certain that they will more and more languidly be revived, and with less
and less conviction.
[1] I here use the word 'Poetry' (as Wordsworth did) as opposed to
the word 'Prose', and synonymous with metrical composition.
It was at one of the deadliest moments in the life of the art in England
that George Gascoigne remarked, in his 'Epistle to the Reverend Divines'
(1574) that 'It seemeth unto me that in all ages Poetry hath been not only
permitted, but also it hath been thought a right good thing'. Poetry has
occupied the purest and the fieriest minds in all ages, and you will
remember that Plato, who excluded the poets from his philosophical Utopia,
was nevertheless an exquisite writer of lyrical verse himself. So, to come
down to our own day, Ibsen, who drove
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.
2. Images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the
closest paragraph break.
3. The word manoeuvre uses an oe ligature in the original.
4. Printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation,
and ligature usage have been retained.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. CL.
APRIL 26, 1916.
CHARIVARIA.
GENERAL VILLA, in pursuit of whom a United States army has already
penetrated four hundred miles into Mexico, is alleged to have died.
It is not considered likely, however, that he will escape as easily
as all that.
***
"Germans net the Sound," says a recent issue of a contemporary. We
don't know what profit they will get out of it, but we ourselves in
these hard times are only too glad to net anything.
***
Bags of coffee taken from a Norwegian steamer and destined for German
consumption have been found to contain rubber. Once more the
immeasurable superiority of the German chemist as a deviser of
synthetic substitutes for ordinary household commodities is clearly
illustrated. What a contrast to our own scientists, whose use of this
most valuable food substitute has never gone far beyond an occasional
fowl or beefsteak.
***
It has been suggested that in honour of the tercentenary of
SHAKSPEARE'S birth Barclay's brewery should be replaced by a new
theatre, a replica of the old Globe Theatre, whose site it is supposed
to occupy; and Mr. REGINALD MCKENNA is understood to have stated that
it is quite immaterial to him.
***
"Horseflesh is on sale in the West End," says _The Daily Telegraph_,
"and the public analyst at Westminster reports having examined a
smoked horseflesh sausage and found it genuine." It is only fair to
our readers, however, to point out that the method of testing sausages
now in vogue, _i.e._ with a stethoscope, is only useful for
ascertaining the identity of the animal (if any) contained therein,
and is valueless in the case of sausages that are filled with sawdust,
india-rubber shavings, horsehair and other vegetables.
***
Wandsworth Borough has refused the offer of a horse trough on the
ground that there are not enough horses to use it. But there are
always plenty of shirkers.
***
Colonel CHURCHILL was reported on Tuesday last as having been seen
entering the side door of No. 11, Downing Street. It was, of course,
the critical stage door.
***
The Austrian Government has issued an appeal for dogs "for sanitary
purposes." The valuable properties of the dog for sterilising sausage
casings have long been a secret of the Teuton.
* * * * *
Commercial Candour.
"Real Harris Hand-Knitted Socks, _1s. 6d._: worth _2s. 6d._;
unwearable."--_Scotch Paper._
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Shopkeeper._ "YES, I WANT A GOOD USEFUL LAD TO BE
PARTLY INDOORS AND PARTLY OUTDOORS."
_Applicant._ "AND WHAT BECOMES OF ME WHEN THE DOOR SLAMS?"]
* * * * *
A Chance for the Illiterate.
"Wanted, a good, all-round Gardener; illegible."--_Provincial
Paper._
"Gardener.--Wanted at once, clever experienced man with good
knowledge of toms., cucs., mums., &c., to work up small
nursery."
_Provincial Paper._
One with a knowledge of nursery language preferred.
* * * * *
"MANCHESTER, ENG. The election of directors of the Manchester
Chamber of Commerce resulted in the return of eighteen out of
twenty-two directors who are definitely committed to the
policy of no free trade with the 60th Canadian Battalion."
_Victoria Colonist (B.C.)._
We hope the battalion will not retaliate by refusing protection to
Manchester, Eng.
* * * * *
THE CURSE OF BABEL.
Let me tell you about the Baronne de Blanqueville and her grandson.
The Baronne is a Belgian lady who came to England in the early days of
the refugee movement, and established herself here in our village.
With her came her younger daughter and Lou-lou, the infant son of an
elder daughter, who had for some reason to be left behind in Belgium.
Lou-lou was a year old when, with his grandmother and his aunt, he
settled in England as an _emigre_. He was then
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BOHN’S STANDARD LIBRARY
THE POEMS OF HEINE
GEORGE BELL AND SONS
LONDON: PORTUGAL ST., LINCOLN’S INN.
CAMBRIDGE: DEIGHTON, BELL AND CO.
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
BOMBAY: A. H. WHEELER AND CO.
THE POEMS OF HEINE
COMPLETE
TRANSLATED INTO THE ORIGINAL METRES
WITH A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE
BY
EDGAR ALFRED BOWRING, C.B.
[Illustration: colophon]
LONDON
GEORGE BELL AND SONS
1908
[_Reprinted from Stereotype plates._]
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION viii
PREFACE ix
MEMOIR OF HEINRICH HEINE xi
EARLY POEMS.
SONGS OF LOVE
Love’s Salutation 1
Love’s Lament 1
Yearning 2
The White Flower 3
Presentiment 4
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
GERMANY, 1815 6
DREAM, 1816 9
THE CONSECRATION 11
THE MOOR’S SERENADE 12
DREAM AND LIFE 13
THE LESSON 14
TO FRANCIS V. Z---- 14
A PROLOGUE TO THE HARTZ-JOURNEY 15
DEFEND NOT 15
A PARODY 16
WALKING FLOWERS AT BERLIN 16
EVENING SONGS 16
SONNETS
To Augustus William von Schlegel 17
To the Same 17
To Councillor George S----, of Göttingen 19
To J. B. Rousseau 19
The Night Watch on the Drachenfels. To Fritz von B---- 20
In Fritz Steinmann’s Album 20
To Her 21
Goethe’s Monument at Frankfort-on-the-Main, 1821 21
Dresden Poetry 21
Beardless Art 22
BOOK OF SONGS
PREFACE 23
YOUTHFUL SORROWS (1817-1821)
VISIONS 24
SONGS 39
ROMANCES 43
The Mournful One 43
The Mountain Echo 43
The Two Brothers 44
Poor Peter 44
The Prisoner’s Song 45
The Grenadiers 46
The Message 46
Taking the Bride Home 46
Don Ramiro 47
Belshazzar 52
The Minnesingers 53
Looking from the Window 54
The Wounded Knight 54
The Sea Voyage 54
The Song of Repentance 55
To a Singer (on her singing an old romance) 56
The Song of the Ducats 57
Dialogue on Paderborn Heath 57
Life’s Salutations (from an album) 59
Quite True 59
SONNETS
To A. W. von Schlegel 59
To my Mother, B. Heine, _née_ von Geldern 60
To H. S. 61
FRESCO SONNETS to Christian S---- 61
LYRICAL INTERLUDE (1822-23)
PROLOGUE 65
LYRICS 66
THE GOD’S TWILIGHT 89
RATCLIFF 91
DONNA CLARA 94
ALAMANSOR 96
THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR 100
THE DREAM (from _Salon_) 102
NEW POEMS
SERAPHINA 102
ANGELICA 107
DIANA 112
HORTENSE 113
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CONCERNING CATS
My Own and Some Others
By Helen M. Winslow
Editor of "The Club Woman"
To the
"PRETTY LADY"
WHO NEVER BETRAYED A SECRET, BROKE A PROMISE, OR
PROVED AN UNFAITHFUL FRIEND; WHO HAD
ALL THE VIRTUES AND NONE OF
THE FAILINGS OF HER SEX
I Dedicate this Volume
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. CONCERNING THE PRETTY LADY.
II. CONCERNING MY OTHER CATS.
III. CONCERNING OTHER PEOPLE'S CATS.
IV. CONCERNING STILL OTHER PEOPLE'S CATS.
V. CONCERNING SOME HISTORIC CATS.
VI. CONCERNING CATS IN ENGLAND.
VII. CONCERNING CAT CLUBS AND CAT SHOWS.
VIII. CONCERNING HIGH-BRED CATS IN AMERICA.
IX. CONCERNING CATS IN POETRY.
X. CONCERNING CAT ARTISTS.
XI. CONCERNING CAT HOSPITALS AND REFUGES.
XII. CONCERNING THE ORIGIN OF CATS.
XIII. CONCERNING VARIETIES OF CATS.
XIV. CONCERNING CAT LANGUAGE.
_Concerning Cats_
CHAPTER I
CONCERNING THE "PRETTY LADY"
She was such a Pretty Lady, and gentle withal; so quiet and eminently
ladylike in her behavior, and yet dignified and haughtily reserved as a
duchess. Still it is better, under certain circumstances, to be a cat
than to be a duchess. And no duchess of the realm ever had more faithful
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Internet Archive)
THE
LAKE DWELLINGS
OF
IRELAND.
[Illustration: _Frontispiece._
IRISH LAKE DWELLING OF THE ISOLATED TYPE.
_Ideally restored from inspection of numerous sites._]
THE
LAKE DWELLINGS
OF
IRELAND:
OR ANCIENT
LACUSTRINE HABITATIONS OF ERIN,
_COMMONLY CALLED CRANNOGS_.
BY
W. G. WOOD-MARTIN, M.R.I.A., F.R.H.A.A.I.,
LIEUT.-COLONEL 8TH BRIGADE NORTH IRISH DIVISION, R.A.;
_Author of “Sligo and the Enniskilleners”;
“History of Sligo, from the Earliest Ages
to the close of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth.”_
“There, driving many an oaken stake
Into the shallow, skilful hands
A steadfast island-dwelling make,
Seen from the hill-tops like a fleet
Of wattled houses.…”
“The footprints of an elder race are here,
And memories of an heroic time,
And shadows of the old mysterious faith.”
_DUBLIN_:
HODGES, FIGGIS & CO., GRAFTON STREET.
PUBLISHERS TO THE UNIVERSITY.
_LONDON_:
LONGMANS, GREEN & CO., PATERNOSTER ROW.
1886.
_ALL RIGHTS RESERVED._
DUBLIN: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
[Illustration]
PREFACE.
The object the writer has in view in this Publication is to place on
record the remarkable discoveries made in a department of Archæology
hitherto almost unnoticed in Ireland, except in the Proceedings,
Catalogues, and Journals of various learned Societies. So far back
as 1861 a writer remarked that such a work would be “a real boon to
archæology,” yet in the interval none has appeared. The cause is
not far to seek. A publication treating of the habits and social
economy of long-forgotten generations is little calculated to gain
a rapid foothold with the general public, by whom the study of the
past may probably be considered dull as well as useless reading. To
many, however, it proves most interesting to observe--despite widest
variations of climatic conditions--the great similarity of the ways and
habits of man while in a rude uncultivated state--acting as it were
by a common instinct--and again to trace his upward progress towards
civilization. A wide tract in this field of archæological research
is fortunately opened up by a comparison of the Irish Lake Dwellings
and their “finds” with those of other countries, more especially
with the discoveries brought into such prominent notice by Keller in
Switzerland, and Munro in Scotland.
To the late Sir William Wilde belongs the honour of first drawing
general attention to the water habitations of Erin; his labours have
been ably followed up by W. F. Wakeman, who has so largely contributed
to the _Journal of the Royal Historical and Archæological Association
of Ireland_ both Papers and Drawings illustrative of the subject.
In the present work, Kinahan, Reeves, Graves, Wilde, and other
specialists, have been freely quoted, as evidenced in the text; in
short, the observations of every author have been utilized, provided
they touched on points that could tend in any degree to elucidate
the subject under consideration. “A dwarf on a giant’s shoulders
sees further of the two”: thus the writer, standing in this line of
investigation on the eminence created by his predecessors, may perhaps
be enabled to lay before his readers a distinct and comprehensive view
of the Ancient Lake Dwellings in Ireland. Recent discoveries and new
matter will be found in these pages; but the special intention has
been to collect carefully all the information hitherto furnished by
the explorers of Irish Lake Dwellings, and to present that information
in a condensed form, “an abridgment of all that is pleasant,” so as to
render it acceptable to archæologists, and perchance agreeable to the
general reader, who, not having had his attention previously directed
towards the subject, can scarcely be supposed willing to explore the
voluminous records of scientific societies in search of items connected
with the question of lacustrine remains in Ireland.
This Publication may, perhaps, help to diffuse more generally the
knowledge already possessed, so that when fresh discoveries are made
in any new locality increased care may be devoted to the exploration;
for every artificial island is not necessarily of remote antiquity,
and the most careful examination is essential before arriving at a
decision respecting the probable period of the primary construction
of a crannog. It would be fortunate indeed should these pages excite
sufficient attention to prove, even remotely, the cause of having the
various relics indicative of the social economy and industries of the
inhabitants of our ancient “water-towns” arranged systematically in
the new Museum of the Science and Art Department, now in course of
construction in Dublin. The facility thus
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WYOMING
A STORY OF THE OUTDOOR WEST
By William MacLeod Raine
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1. A DESERT MEETING
2. THE KING OF THE BIG HORN COUNTRY
3. AN INVITATION GIVEN AND ACCEPTED
4. AT THE LAZY D RANCH
5. THE DANCE AT FRASER'S
6. A PARTY CALL
7. THE MAN FROM THE SHOSHONE FASTNESSES
8. IN THE LAZY D HOSPITAL
9. A RESCUE
12. MISTRESS AND MAID
13. THE TWO COUSINS
14. FOR THE WORLD'S CHAMPIONSHIP
15. JUDD MORGAN PASSES
16. HUNTING BIG GAME
17. RUN TO EARTH
18. PLAYING FOR TIME
19. WEST POINT TO THE RESCUE
20. TWO CASES OF DISCIPLINE
21. THE SIGNAL LIGHTS
22. EXIT THE KING
23. JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS' MEETING.
CHAPTER 1. A DESERT MEETING
An automobile shot out from a gash in the hills and slipped swiftly down
to the butte. Here it came to a halt on the white, dusty road, while
its occupant gazed with eager, unsated eyes on the great panorama that
stretched before her. The earth rolled in waves like a mighty sea to
the distant horizon line. From a wonderful blue sky poured down upon
the land a bath of sunbeat. The air was like wine, pure and strong, and
above the desert swam the rare, untempered light of Wyoming. Surely here
was a peace primeval, a silence unbroken since the birth of creation.
It was all new to her, and wonderfully exhilarating. The infinite roll
of plain, the distant shining mountains, the multitudinous voices of the
desert drowned in a sunlit sea of space--they were all details of the
situation that ministered to a large serenity.
And while she breathed deeply the satisfaction of it, an exploding rifle
echo shattered the stillness. With excited sputtering came the prompt
answer of a fusillade. She was new to the West; but some instinct
stronger than reason told the girl that here was no playful puncher
shooting up the scenery to ventilate his exuberance. Her imagination
conceived something more deadly; a sinister picture of men pumping lead
in a grim, close-lipped silence; a lusty plainsman, with murder in
his heart, crumpling into a lifeless heap, while the thin smoke-spiral
curled from his hot rifle.
So the girl imagined the scene as she ran swiftly forward through the
pines to the edge of the butte bluff whence she might look down upon the
coulee that nestled against it. Nor had she greatly erred, for her first
sweeping glance showed her the thing she had dreaded.
In a semicircle, well back from the foot of the butte, half a dozen
men crouched in the cover of the sage-brush and a scattered group of
cottonwoods. They were perhaps fifty yards apart, and the attention
of all of them was focused on a spot directly beneath her. Even as she
looked, in that first swift moment of apprehension, a spurt of smoke
came from one of the rifles and was flung back from the forked pine
at the bottom of the mesa. She saw him then, kneeling behind his
insufficient shelter, a trapped man making his last stand.
From where she stood the girl distinguished him very clearly, and under
the field-glasses that she turned on him the details leaped to life.
Tall, strong, slender, with the lean, clean build of a greyhound, he
seemed as wary and alert as a panther. The broad, soft hat, the scarlet
handkerchief loosely knotted about his throat, the gray shirt, spurs
and overalls, proclaimed him a stockman, just as his dead horse at the
entrance to the coulee told of an accidental meeting in the desert and a
hurried run for cover.
That he had no chance was quite plain, but no plainer than the cool
vigilance with which he proposed to make them pay. Even in the matter
of defense he was worse off than they were, but he knew how to make
the most of what he had; knew how to avail himself of every inch of
sagebrush that helped to render him indistinct to their eyes.
One of the attackers, eager for a clearer shot, exposed himself a trifle
too far in taking aim. Without any loss of time in sighting, swift as a
lightning-flash, the rifle behind the forked pine spoke. That the bullet
reached its mark she saw with a gasp of dismay. For the man suddenly
huddled down and rolled over on his side.
His comrades appeared to take warning by this example. The men at both
ends of the crescent fell back, and for a minute the girl's heart leaped
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GEORGIUS AGRICOLA
DE RE METALLICA
TRANSLATED FROM THE FIRST LATIN EDITION OF 1556
with
Biographical Introduction, Annotations and Appendices upon
the Development of Mining Methods, Metallurgical
Processes, Geology, Mineralogy & Mining Law
from the earliest times to the 16th Century
BY
HERBERT CLARK HOOVER
A. B. Stanford University, Member American Institute of Mining Engineers,
Mining and Metallurgical Society of America, Societe des Ingenieurs
Civils de France, American Institute of Civil Engineers,
Fellow Royal Geographical Society, etc., etc.
AND
LOU HENRY HOOVER
A. B. Stanford University, Member American Association for the
Advancement of Science, The National Geographical Society,
Royal Scottish Geographical Society, etc., etc.
1950
_Dover Publications, Inc._
NEW YORK
TO
JOHN CASPAR BRANNER Ph.D.,
_The inspiration of whose teaching is no less great than his
contribution to science._
This New 1950 Edition of DE RE METALLICA is a complete and unchanged
reprint of the translation published by The Mining Magazine, London, in
1912. It has been made available through the kind permission of
Honorable Herbert C. Hoover and Mr. Edgar Rickard, Author and Publisher,
respectively, of the original volume.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TRANSLATORS' PREFACE.
There are three objectives in translation of works of this character: to
give a faithful, literal translation of the author's statements; to give
these in a manner which will interest the reader; and to preserve, so
far as is possible, the style of the original text. The task has been
doubly difficult in this work because, in using Latin, the author
availed himself of a medium which had ceased to expand a thousand years
before his subject had in many particulars come into being; in
consequence he was in difficulties with a large number of ideas for
which there were no corresponding words in the vocabulary at his
command, and instead of adopting into the text his native German terms,
he coined several hundred Latin expressions to answer his needs. It is
upon this rock that most former attempts at translation have been
wrecked. Except for a very small number, we believe we have been able to
discover the intended meaning of such expressions from a study of the
context, assisted by a very incomplete glossary prepared by the author
himself, and by an exhaustive investigation into the literature of these
subjects during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. That discovery
in this particular has been only gradual and obtained after much labour,
may be indicated by the fact that the entire text has been
re-typewritten three times since the original, and some parts more
often; and further, that the printer's proof has been thrice revised. We
have found some English equivalent, more or less satisfactory, for
practically all such terms, except those of weights, the varieties of
veins, and a few minerals. In the matter of weights we have introduced
the original Latin, because it is impossible to give true equivalents
and avoid the fractions of reduction; and further, as explained in the
Appendix on Weights it is impossible to say in many cases what scale the
Author had in mind. The English nomenclature to be adopted has given
great difficulty, for various reasons; among them, that many methods and
processes described have never been practised in English-speaking mining
communities, and so had no representatives in our vocabulary, and we
considered the introduction of German terms undesirable; other methods
and processes have become obsolete and their descriptive terms with
them, yet we wished to avoid the introduction of obsolete or unusual
English; but of the greatest importance of all has been the necessity to
avoid rigorously such modern technical terms as would imply a greater
scientific understanding than the period possessed.
Agricola's Latin, while mostly free from mediaeval corruption, is
somewhat tainted with German construction. Moreover some portions have
not the continuous flow of sustained thought which others display, but
the fact that the writing of the work extended over a period of twenty
years, sufficiently explains the considerable variation in style. The
technical descriptions in the later books often take the form of
House-that-Jack-built sentences which have had to be at least partially
broken up and the subject occasionally re-introduced. Ambiguities were
also sometimes found which it was necessary to carry on into the
translation. Despite these criticisms we must, however, emphasize that
Agricola was infinitely clearer in his style than his contemporaries
upon such subjects, or for that matter than his successors in almost any
language for a couple of centuries. All of the illustrations and display
letters of the original have been reproduced and the type as closely
approximates to the original as the printers have been able to find in a
modern font.
There are no foot
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DOMESTIC FOLK-LORE.
BY
REV. T. F. THISELTON DYER, M.A., OXON.,
_Author of "British Popular Customs" and
"English Folk-lore."_
CASSELL, PETTER, GALPIN & CO.:
_LONDON, PARIS & NEW YORK._
[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
PREFACE.
For the name "Folk-lore" in its present signification, embracing the
Popular Traditions, Proverbial Sayings, Superstitions, and Customs
of the people, we are in a great measure indebted to the late editor
of _Notes and Queries_--Mr. W. J. Thoms--who, in an anonymous
contribution to the _Athenaeum_ of 22nd August, 1846, very aptly
suggested this comprehensive term, which has since been adopted as
the recognised title of what has now become an important branch of
antiquarian research.
The study of Folk-lore is year by year receiving greater attention,
its object being to collect, classify, and preserve survivals of
popular belief, and to trace them as far as possible to their
original source. This task is no easy one, as school-boards and
railways are fast sweeping away every vestige of the old beliefs
and customs which, in days gone by, held such a prominent place in
social and domestic life. The Folk-lorist has, also, to deal with
remote periods, and to examine the history of tales and traditions
which have been handed down from the distant past and have lost
much of their meaning in the lapse of years. But, as a writer in
the _Standard_ has pointed out, Folk-lore students tread on no
man's toes. "They take up points of history which the historian
despises, and deal with monuments more intangible but infinitely more
ancient than those about which Sir John Lubbock is so solicitous.
They prosper and are happy on the crumbs dropped from the tables of
the learned, and grow scientifically rich on the refuse which less
skilful craftsmen toss aside as useless. The tales with which the
nurse wiles her charge asleep provide for the Folk-lore student a
succulent banquet--for he knows that there is scarcely a child's
story or a vain thought that may not be traced back to the boyhood of
the world, and to those primitive races from which so many polished
nations have sprung."
The field of research, too, in which the Folk-lorist is engaged is
a most extensive one, supplying materials for investigation of a
widespread character. Thus he recognises and, as far as he possibly
can, explains the smallest item of superstition wherever found, not
limiting his inquiries to any one subject. This, therefore, whilst
enhancing the value of Folk-lore as a study, in the same degree
increases its interest, since with a perfect impartiality it lays
bare superstition as it exists among all classes of society. Whilst
condemning, it may be, the uneducated peasant who places credence in
the village fortune-teller or "cunning man," we are apt to forget
how oftentimes persons belonging to the higher classes are found
consulting with equal faith some clairvoyant or spirit-medium.
Hence, however reluctant the intelligent part of the community may be
to own the fact, it must be admitted that superstition, in one form
or another, dwells beneath the surface of most human hearts, although
it may frequently display itself in the most disguised or refined
form. Among the lower orders, as a writer has observed, "it wears its
old fashions, in the higher it changes with the rapidity of modes
in fashionable circles." Indeed, it is no matter of surprise that
superstition prevails among the poor and ignorant, when we find the
affluent and enlightened in many cases quite as ready to repose their
belief in the most illogical ideas.
In conclusion, we would only add that the present little volume has
been written with a view of showing how this rule applies even to the
daily routine of Domestic Life, every department of which, as will be
seen in the following pages, has its own Folk-lore.
T. F. THISELTON DYER.
_Brighton, May, 1881._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND INFANCY. PAGE
Value of Superstitions--Lucky Days and Hours of Birth--The
Caul--The Changeling--The Evil Eye--"Up and not
Down"--Rocking the Empty Cradle--Teeth, Nails, and
Hands--The Maple and the Ash--Unchristened Children 1
CHAPTER II.
CHILDHOOD.
Nursery Literature--The Power of Baptism--Confirmation--Popular
Prayers--Weather Rhymes--School Superstitions--Barring
out 16
CHAPTER III.
LOVE AND COURTSHIP.
Love-tests--Plants used in Love-charms--The Lady-bird--The
Snail--St. Valentine's Day--Midsummer Eve--Hallowe'en--Omens
on Friday 23
CHAPTER IV.
MARRIAGE.
Seasons and Days propitious to Marriage--Superstitions connected
with the Bride--Meeting a Funeral--Robbing the Bride of
Pins--Dancing in a Hog's Trough--The Wedding-cake--The Ring 36
CHAPTER V.
DEATH AND BURIAL.
Warnings of Death--The Howling of Dogs--A Cow in the
Garden--Death-presaging Birds--Plants--The Will-o'-the-Wisp--The
Sympathy between Two Personalities--Prophecy--Dying
Hardly--The Last Act--Place and Position of the Grave 48
CHAPTER VI.
THE HUMAN BODY.
Superstitions about Deformity, Moles, &c.--Tingling of the
Ear--The Nose--The Eye--The Teeth--The Hair--The
Hand--Dead Man's Hand--The Feet 65
CHAPTER VII.
ARTICLES OF DRESS.
New Clothes at Easter and Whitsuntide--Wearing of Clothes--The
Clothes of the Dead--The Apron, Stockings, Garters, &c.--The
Shoe--The Glove--The Ring--Pins 81
CHAPTER VIII.
TABLE SUPERSTITIONS.
Thirteen at Table--Salt-spilling--The Knife--Bread, and other
Articles of Food--Wishing Bones--Tea-leaves--Singing before
Breakfast--Shaking Hands across the Table 100
CHAPTER IX.
FURNITURE OMENS.
Folk-lore of the Looking-glass--Luck of Edenhall--
Clock-falling--Chairs--Beds--The Bellows 111
CHAPTER X.
HOUSEHOLD SUPERSTITIONS.
Prevalence and Continuity of Superstitions--Sneezing--
Stumbling--A Whistling Woman--Sweeping--Breaking
Crockery--Fires and Candles--Money--Other Superstitions 120
CHAPTER XI.
POPULAR DIVINATIONS.
Bible and Key--Dipping--Sieve and Shears--Crowing of the
Cock--Spatulamancia--Palmistry and Onymancy--Look-divination--
Astrology--Cards--Casting Lot--Tea-stalks 134
CHAPTER XII.
COMMON AILMENTS.
Charm-remedies--For Ague--Bleeding of the Nose--Burns--Cramp--
Epilepsy--Fits--Gout--Headache, &c. 148
CHAPTER XIII.
MISCELLANEOUS HOUSEHOLD LORE.
Horse-shoes--Precautions against Witchcraft--The Charmer--Second
Sight--Ghosts--Dreams--Nightmare 169
INDEX 181
DOMESTIC FOLK-LORE.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND INFANCY.
Value of Superstitions--Lucky Days and Hours of Birth--The
Caul--The Changeling--The Evil Eye--"Up and not Down"--Rocking
the Empty Cradle--Teeth, Nails, and Hands--The Maple and the
Ash--Unchristened Children.
Around every stage of human life a variety of customs and
superstitions have woven themselves, most of which, apart from
their antiquarian value, as having been bequeathed to us from the
far-off past, are interesting in so far as they illustrate those
old-world notions and quaint beliefs which marked the social and
domestic life of our forefathers. Although, therefore, many of these
may appear to us meaningless, yet it must be remembered that they
were the natural outcome of that scanty knowledge and those crude
conceptions which prevailed in less enlightened times than our own.
Probably, if our ancestors were in our midst now, they would be able
in a great measure to explain and account for what is often looked
upon now-a-days as childish fancy and so much nursery rubbish. In
the present chapter it is proposed to give a brief and general
survey of the folk-lore associated with birth and infancy, without,
however, entering critically into its origin or growth, or tracing
its transmigration from one country to another. Commencing, then,
with birth, we find that many influences are supposed to affect the
future fortune and character of the infant. Thus, in some places
great attention is paid to the day of the week on which the child is
born, as may be gathered from the following rhyme still current in
Cornwall:--
"Sunday's child is full of grace,
Monday's child is full in the face,
Tuesday's child is solemn and sad,
Wednesday's child is merry and glad,
Thursday's child is inclined to thieving,
Friday's child is free in giving,
Saturday's child works hard for his living"--
a piece of folk-lore varying, of course, in different localities. By
general consent, however, Sunday is regarded as a most lucky day for
birth, both in this country and on the Continent; and according to
the "Universal Fortune-teller"--a book very popular among the lower
classes in former years--"great riches, long life, and happiness" are
in store for those fortunate beings born on Sunday, while in Sussex
they are considered safe against drowning and hanging. Importance
is also attached to the hour of birth; and the faculty of seeing
much that is hidden from others is said to be granted to children
born at the "chime hours," _i.e._, the hours of three, six, nine, or
twelve--a superstition found in many parts of the Continent. There
is, too, an idea prevalent in Germany that when a child is born
in leap-year either it or its mother will die within the course of
the year--a notion not unknown in our own country. Again, from time
immemorial various kinds of divination have been in use for the
purpose of discovering the sex of an infant previous to its birth.
One of these is by means of a shoulder-of-mutton bone, which, after
the whole of the flesh has been stripped clean off, must be hung up
the last thing at night over the front door of the house. On the
following morning the sex of the first person who enters, exclusive
of the members of the household, indicates the sex of the child.
We will next turn to some of the countless superstitions connected
with the new-born child. A highly popular one refers to the caul--a
thin membrane occasionally found covering the head at birth, and
deemed specially lucky, as indicating, among other things, that the
child will never be drowned. It has been, in consequence, termed
the "holy" or "fortunate hood," and great care is generally taken
that it should not be lost or thrown away, for fear of the death or
sickness of the child. This superstitious fancy was very common in
the primitive ages of the Church, and St. Chrysostom inveighs against
it in several of his homilies. The presence of a caul on board ship
was believed to prevent shipwreck, and owners of vessels paid a large
price for them. Most readers will, no doubt, recollect how Thomas
Hood wrote for his early work, "Whims and Oddities," a capital ballad
upon this vulgar error. Speaking of the jolly mariner who confidently
put to sea in spite of the ink-black sky which "told every eye a
storm was soon to be," he goes on to say--
"But still that jolly mariner
Took in no reef at all;
For in his pouch confidingly
He wore a baby's caul."
It little availed him, however; for as soon as the storm in ruthless
fury burst upon his frail bark, he
"Was smothered by the squall.
Heaven ne'er heard his cry, nor did
The ocean heed his _caul_!"
Advocates also purchased them, that they might be endued with
eloquence, the price paid having often been from twenty to thirty
guineas. They seem to have had other magical properties, as Grose
informs us that any one "possessed of a caul may know the state of
health of the person who was born with it. If alive and well, it is
firm and crisp; if dead or sick, relaxed and flaccid." In France the
luck supposed to belong to a caul is proverbial, and _etre ne coiffe_
is an expression signifying that a person is extremely fortunate.
Apart from the ordinary luck supposed to attach to the "caul," it
may preserve the child from a terrible danger to which, according
to the old idea, it is ever exposed--namely, that of being secretly
carried off and exchanged by some envious witch or fairy for its own
ill-favoured offspring. This superstition was once very common in
many countries, and was even believed by Martin Luther, if we are to
rely on the following extract from his "Table Book:"--"Changelings
Satan lays in the place of the genuine children, that people may
be tormented with them. He often carries off young maidens into
the water." This most reprehensible of the practices attributed
to the fairies is constantly spoken of by our old writers, and is
several times mentioned by Shakespeare. In the speech of Puck, in _A
Midsummer Night's Dream_ (Act ii., sc. 1), that jovial sprite says of
Titania's lovely boy--the cause of quarrel between the King and Queen
of Elfland:--
"She never had so sweet a changeling."
In the _Winter's Tale_ (Act iv., sc. 4) the Shepherd, on discovering
the babe Perdita, tells the Clown, "It was told me I should be
rich by the fairies. This is some changeling." As a preservation
against this danger, sundry charms are observed. Thus, in the
North of England, a carving-knife is still hung from the head of
the cradle, with the point suspended near the child's face. In the
Western Isles of Scotland idiots are believed to be the fairies'
changelings, and in order to regain the lost child, parents have
recourse to the following device:--They place the changeling on the
beach, below high-water mark, when the tide is out, and pay no heed
to its screams, believing that the fairies, rather than allow their
offspring to be drowned by the rising waters, will convey it away and
restore the child they had stolen. The sign that this has been done
is the cessation of the child's crying. In Ireland, too, the peasants
often place the child supposed to be a changeling on a hot shovel, or
torment it in some other way. A similar practice is resorted to in
Denmark, where the mother heats the oven, and places the child on the
peel, pretending to put it in; and sometimes she whips it severely
with a rod, or throws it into the water. The only real safeguard,
however, against this piece of fairy mischief is baptism, and hence
the rite has generally been performed among the peasantry as soon as
possible after birth.
Another danger to which the new-born child is said to be exposed, and
to counteract which baptism is an infallible charm, is the influence
of the "evil eye;" certain persons being thought to possess the power
of inflicting injury by merely looking on those whom they wish to
harm. Although this form of superstition has been gradually dying out
for many years past, yet it still retains its hold in certain country
places. It is interesting to trace this notion as far back as the
time of the Romans; and in the late Professor Conington's translation
of the "Satires of Persius" we find it thus laughably spoken
of:--"Look here! A grandmother or a superstitious aunt has taken baby
from his cradle, and is charming his forehead against mischief by the
joint action of her middle finger and her purifying spittle; for she
knows right well how to check the evil eye." Confining ourselves,
however, to instances recorded in our own country, we find that,
even now-a-days, various charms are practised for counteracting the
baneful influence of this cruel species of witchcraft. Thus, in
Lancashire, some of the chief consist in spitting three times in the
child's face, turning a live coal in the fire, exclaiming, "The Lord
be with us;" whilst in the neighbourhood of Burnley "drawing blood
above the mouth" was once a popular antidote. Self-bored or "lucky
stones" are often hung by the peasantry behind their cottage doors;
and in the South of England a copy of the apocryphal letter of our
Lord to Abgarus, King of Edessa, may occasionally be seen pasted
on the walls. In many places, when a child pines or wastes away,
the cause is often attributed to the "evil eye," and one remedy in
use against this disaster is the following:--Before sunrise it is
brought to a blacksmith of the seventh generation, and laid on the
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SHAVING MADE EASY
What the Man Who
Shaves Ought to Know
ILLUSTRATED
PUBLISHED BY
THE 20th CENTURY
CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL
NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1905
BY
THE 20TH CENTURY
CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL
THIS BOOK
IS DEDICATED TO THOSE
MEN WHO HAVE DIFFICULTIES IN
SHAVING, IN HOPE THAT ITS CONTENTS
WILL BE OF ASSISTANCE IN REMEDYING
THEIR TROUBLES.
PREFACE.
The object of this little book is to furnish clear and full information
about the art of shaving. There are few men who do not experience more or
less difficulty in shaving themselves, and many who, after a few
unsuccessful attempts, give it up in dispair and go to the barber shop. We
believe most of these would much prefer to shave themselves if only they
could do as well as a barber.
The advantages, indeed, seem to be wholly with the man who shaves himself.
In the first place the shaving is done in the privacy of his own room. He
has his own razor, cup, soap, brush and towels, which can be kept
scrupulously clean and sanitary, thus avoiding the constant danger of
infection. There is no long wait for the call of "next." After the first
cost of the outfit there is nothing to pay, either for services or "tips."
Thus in point of time, money and health, the man who shaves himself is a
decided gainer.
There are few things in life that are really difficult to perform when one
thoroughly knows how to do them. Shaving is no exception. The art of
shaving can be easily acquired if one only has the will, and the necessary
practical information. This book, which, as far as we are aware, is the
only one treating the subject at all completely, endeavors to supply such
information; as well for the improvement of men accustomed to shave
themselves, as for the instruction of beginners. We believe that any man
who will carefully read and follow the instructions here given, will, with
some little practice, soon be able to shave himself easily and even better
than the barber can do it for him.
CONTENTS.
I. The Shaving Outfit 9
II. The Razor 11
III. Care of the Razor 19
IV. The Safety Razor 21
V. The Hone 23
VI. How to Use the Hone 29
VII. The Strop 37
VIII. How to Strop the Razor 41
IX. The Brush 45
X. The Cup 48
XI. The Soap 50
XII. The Lather 53
XIII. Instructions to Beginners 56
XIV. The Right Way to Shave 61
XV. Care of the Face After Shaving 74
XVI. Irritation of the Skin--Its Cause
and Prevention 78
Shaving Made Easy
What the Man Who Shaves Ought to Know
I.
THE SHAVING OUTFIT.
First-class tools are necessary at the very outset. No matter how
skillfully one may handle inferior tools, they will invariably produce
poor results.
Probably as many failures have resulted from the use of poor razors,
strops, or soap as from the lack of knowledge how to use them. In order
that the best possible results may be attained, _good tools_ and _skill
in using them_ should go hand in hand.
The shaving outfit should consist of one or two good razors, a first-class
strop, a mirror, a cup, a brush, a cake of shaving soap, and a bottle of
either bay rum, witch hazel, or some other good face lotion. These
constitute what may be considered the _necessary_ articles, and to these
may be added a number of others, such as a good hone, magnesia or talcum
powder, astringent or styptic pencils, antiseptic lotions, etc. which,
while not absolutely requisite, will nevertheless add much to the
convenience, comfort and luxury of the shave.
II.
THE RAZOR.
The most important article of the shaving outfit is of course the razor,
and upon its selection your success or failure in self-shaving will
largely depend. Never purchase a razor because it happens to be cheap
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[Illustration: CHELMSFORD HIGH STREET IN 1762.
(_Reduced by Photography from the Larger Engraving by J. Ryland._)]
THE
TRADE SIGNS OF ESSEX:
A Popular Account
OF
THE ORIGIN AND MEANINGS
OF THE
Public House & Other Signs
NOW OR FORMERLY
Found in the County of Essex.
BY
MILLER CHRISTY,
_Author of “Manitoba Described,”
“The Genus Primula in Essex,” “Our Empire,” &c._
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
Chelmsford:
EDMUND DURRANT & CO., 90, HIGH STREET.
London:
GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH,
WEST CORNER ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD.
MDCCCLXXXVII.
[Illustration]
PREFACE.
“Prefaces to books [says a learned author] are like signs to
public-houses. They are intended to give one an idea of the kind of
entertainment to be found within.”
A student of the ancient and peculiarly interesting Art of Heraldry can
hardly fail, at an early period in his researches, to be struck with the
idea that some connection obviously exists between the various
“charges,” “crests,” “badges,” and “supporters” with which he is
familiar, and the curious designs now to be seen upon the sign-boards of
many of our roadside inns, and which were formerly displayed by most
other houses of
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THE GOLDEN ROAD
By L. M. Montgomery
"Life was a rose-lipped comrade
With purple flowers dripping from her fingers."
--The Author.
TO
THE MEMORY OF
Aunt Mary Lawson
WHO TOLD ME MANY OF THE TALES
REPEATED BY THE
STORY GIRL
FOREWORD
Once upon a time we all walked on the golden road. It was a fair
highway, through the Land of Lost Delight; shadow and sunshine were
blessedly mingled, and every turn and dip revealed a fresh charm and a
new loveliness to eager hearts and unspoiled eyes.
On that road we heard the song of morning stars; we drank in fragrances
aerial and sweet as a May mist; we were rich in gossamer fancies and
iris hopes; our hearts sought and found the boon of dreams; the years
waited beyond and they were very fair; life was a rose-lipped comrade
with purple flowers dripping from her fingers.
We may long have left the golden road behind, but its memories are the
dearest of our eternal possessions; and those who cherish them as such
may haply find a pleasure in the pages of this book, whose people are
pilgrims on the golden road of youth.
THE GOLDEN ROAD
CHAPTER I. A NEW DEPARTURE
"I've thought of something amusing for the winter," I said as we
drew into a half-circle around the glorious wood-fire in Uncle Alec's
kitchen.
It had been a day of wild November wind, closing down into a wet, eerie
twilight. Outside, the wind was shrilling at the windows and around the
eaves, and the rain was playing on the roof. The old willow at the gate
was writhing in the storm and the orchard was a place of weird music,
born of all the tears and fears that haunt the halls of night. But
little we cared for the gloom and the loneliness of the outside world;
we kept them at bay with the light of the fire and the laughter of our
young lips.
We had been having a splendid game of Blind-Man's Buff. That is, it
had been splendid at first; but later the fun went out of it because we
found that Peter was, of malice prepense, allowing himself to be
caught too easily, in order that he might have the pleasure of catching
Felicity--which he never failed to do, no matter how tightly his eyes
were bound. What remarkable goose said that love is blind? Love can see
through five folds of closely-woven muffler with ease!
"I'm getting tired," said Cecily, whose breath was coming rather quickly
and whose pale cheeks had bloomed into scarlet. "Let's sit down and get
the Story Girl to tell us a story."
But as we dropped into our places the Story Girl shot a significant
glance at me which intimated that this was the psychological moment for
introducing the scheme she and I had been secretly developing for some
days. It was really the Story Girl's idea and none of mine. But she had
insisted that I should make the suggestion as coming wholly from myself.
"If you don't, Felicity won't agree to it. You know yourself, Bev, how
contrary she's been lately over anything I mention. And if she goes
against it Peter will too--the ninny!--and it wouldn't be any fun if we
weren't all in it."
"What is it?" asked Felicity, drawing her chair slightly away from
Peter's.
"It is this. Let us get up a newspaper of our own--write it all
ourselves, and have all we do in it. Don't you think we can get a lot of
fun out of it?"
Everyone looked rather blank and amazed, except the Story Girl. She knew
what she had to do, and she did it.
"What a silly idea!" she exclaimed, with a contemptuous toss of her long
brown curls. "Just as if WE could get up a newspaper!"
Felicity fired up, exactly as we had hoped.
"I think it's a splendid idea," she said enthusiastically. "I'd like to
know why we couldn't get up as good a newspaper as they have in town!
Uncle Roger says the Daily Enterprise has gone to the dogs--all the news
it prints is that some old woman has put a shawl on her head and gone
across the road to have tea with another old woman. I guess we could do
better than that. You needn't think, Sara Stanley, that nobody but you
can do anything."
"I think it would be great fun," said Peter decidedly. "My Aunt Jane
helped edit a paper when she was at Queen's Academy, and she said it was
very amusing and helped her a great deal."
The Story Girl could hide her delight only by dropping her eyes and
frowning.
"Bev wants to be editor," she said, "and I
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fifty Years of Freedom
WITH MATTERS OF VITAL IMPORTANCE TO BOTH THE
WHITE AND <DW52> PEOPLE OF
THE UNITED STATES
—BY—
REV. FRANCIS J. GRIMKE, D. D.
Delivered before the Presbyterian Council in the Madison Street
Presbyterian Church, Baltimore, Maryland, October 17, 1913.
And before the Fifteenth Street Presbyterian Church,
Washington, D. C., October 26, 1913.
"Oh, speed the moment on
When Wrong shall cease, and Liberty and Love
And Truth and Right throughout the
earth be known
As in their home above."
-------
"Voice of a ransomed race, sing on
Till Freedom's every right is won,
And slavery's every wrong undone!"
-------
"Sail on! The morning
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[Illustration]
[Illustration: KITE-TIME]
BOY LIFE
STORIES AND READINGS SELECTED FROM THE WORKS OF
WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS
AND ARRANGED FOR SUPPLEMENTARY
READING IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS BY
PERCIVAL CHUBB
DIRECTOR OF ENGLISH IN THE
ETHICAL CULTURE SCHOOL, NEW YORK
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMIX
HARPER'S MODERN SERIES
OF SUPPLEMENTARY READERS FOR THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS
_Each, Illustrated, 16mo, 50 Cents School._
BOY LIFE
Stories and Readings Selected from the Works of WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS,
and Arranged by PERCIVAL CHUBB, Director of English in the Ethical
Culture School, New York.
"The literary culture which we are trying to give our boys and
girls is not sufficiently contemporaneous, and it is not
sufficiently national and American....
"Among the living writers there is no one whose work has a more
distinctively American savor than that of William Dean
Howells.... The juvenile books of Mr. Howells' contain some of
the very best pages ever written for the enjoyment of young
people."--PERCIVAL CHUBB.
(_Others in Preparation._)
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
Copyright, 1909, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
Published September, 1909.
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION ix
I. ADVENTURES IN A BOY'S TOWN
HOW PONY BAKER CAME PRETTY NEAR RUNNING OFF WITH A CIRCUS 3
THE CIRCUS MAGICIAN 13
JIM LEONARD'S HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPE 23
II. LIFE IN A BOY'S TOWN
THE TOWN 41
EARLIEST MEMORIES 45
HOME LIFE 47
THE RIVER 51
SWIMMING 55
SKATING 61
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 64
GIRLS 68
MOTHERS 69
A BROTHER 73
A FRIEND 79
III. GAMES AND PASTIMES
MARBLES 89
RACES 91
A MEAN TRICK 93
TOPS 96
KITES 98
THE BUTLER GUARDS 103
PETS 108
INDIANS 124
GUNS 129
NUTTING 138
THE FIRE-ENGINES 145
IV. GLIMPSES OF THE LARGER WORLD
THE TRAVELLING CIRCUS 151
PASSING SHOWS 163
THE THEATRE COMES TO TOWN 168
THE WORLD OPENED BY BOOKS 171
V. THE LAST OF A BOY'S TOWN 183
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
KITE-TIME _Frontispiece_
HE BEGAN BEING COLD AND STIFF WITH HER THE
VERY NEXT MORNING 5
THE FIRST LOCK 43
THE BUTLER GUARDS 105
ALL AT ONCE THERE THE INDIANS WERE 127
NUTTING 141
INTRODUCTION
There are two conspicuous faults in the literary culture which we are
trying to give to our boys and girls in our elementary and secondary
schools: it is not sufficiently contemporaneous, and it is not
sufficiently national and American. Hence it lacks vitality and
actuality. So little of it is carried over into life because so little
of it is interpretative of the life that is. It is associated too
exclusively in the child's mind with things dead and gone--with the
Puritan world of Miles Standish, the Revolutionary days of Paul Revere,
the Dutch epoch of Rip Van Winkle; or with not even this comparatively
recent national interest, it takes the child back to the strange folk of
the days of King Arthur and King Robert of Sicily, of Ivanhoe and the
Ancient Mariner. Thus when the child leaves school his literary studies
do not connect helpfully with those forms of literature with which--if
he reads at all--he is most likely to be concerned: the short story, the
sketch, and the popular essay of the magazines and newspapers; the new
novel, or the plays which he may see at the theatre. He has not been
interested in the writers of his own time, and has never been put in the
way of the best contemporary fiction. Hence the ineffectualness and
wastefulness of much of our school work: it does not lead forward into
the life of to-day, nor help the young to judge intelligently of the
popular books which later on will compete for their favor.
To be sure, not a little of the material used in our elementary schools
is drawn from Longfellow, Whittier, and Holmes, from Irving and
Hawthorne; but because it is often studied in a so-called thorough and,
therefore, very deadly way--slowly and laboriously for drill, rather
than briskly for pleasure--there is comparatively little of it read, and
almost no sense gained of its being part of a national literature. In
the high school, owing to the unfortunate domination of the college
entrance requirements, the situation is not much better. Our students
leave with a scant and hurried glimpse--if any glimpse at all--of
Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman, or of Lowell, Lanier, and Poe; with no
intimate view of Hawthorne, our great classic; none at all of Parkman
and Fiske, our historians; or of writers like Howells, James, and Cable,
or Wilkins, Jewett, and Deland, and a worthy company of story-tellers.
We may well be on our guard against a vaunting nationalism. It <DW44>s
our culture. There should be no confusion of the second-rate values of
most of our American products with the supreme values of the greatest
British classics. We may work, of course, toward an ultimate
appreciation of these greatest things. We fail, however, in securing
such appreciation because we have failed to enlist those forms of
interest which vitalize and stimulate literary studies--above all, the
patriotic or national interest. Concord and Cambridge should be dearer,
as they are nearer, to the young American than even Stratford and
Abbotsford; Hawthorne should be as familiar as Goldsmith; and Emerson,
as Addison or Burke. Ordinarily it is not so; and we suffer the
consequences in the failure of our youth to grasp the spiritual ideals
and the distinctively American democratic spirit which find expression
in the greatest work of our literary masters, Emerson and Whitman,
Lowell and Lanier. Our culture and our nationalism both suffer thereby.
Our literature suffers also, because we have not an instructed and
interested public to encourage excellence.
Among the living writers there is no one whose work has a more
distinctively American savor than that of William Dean Howells; and it
is to make his delightful writings more widely known and more easily
accessible that this volume of selections from his books for the young
has been prepared as a reading-book for the elementary school. These
juvenile books of Mr. Howells contain some of the very best pages ever
written for the enjoyment of young people. His two books for boys--_A
Boy's Town_ and _The Flight of Pony Baker_--rank with such favorites as
_Tom Sawyer_ and _The Story of a Bad Boy_.
These should be introductory to the best of Mr. Howells' novels and
essays in the high school; for Mr. Howells, it need scarcely be said, is
one of our few masters of style: his style is as individual and
distinguished as it is felicitous and delicate. More important still,
from the educational point of view, he is one of our most modern
writers: the spiritual issues and social problems of our age, which our
older high-school pupils are anxious to deal with, are alive in his
books. Our young people should know his _Rise of Silas Lapham_ and _A
Hazard of New Fortunes_, as well as his social and literary criticism.
As stimulating and alluring a volume of selections may be made for
high-school students as this volume will be, we venture to predict, for
the younger boys and girls of the elementary school.
In this little book of readings we have made, we believe, an entirely
legitimate and desirable use of the books named above. _A Boy's Town_
is a series of detachable pictures and episodes into which the boy--or
the healthy girl who loves boys' books--may dip, as the selections here
given will, we believe, tempt him to do. The same is true of _The Flight
of Pony Baker_. The volume is for class-room enjoyment; for happy hours
of profitable reading--profitable, because happy. Much of it should be
read aloud rather than silently, and dramatic justice be done to the
scenes and conversations which have dramatic quality.
PERCIVAL CHUBB.
I
ADVENTURES IN A BOY'S TOWN
HOW PONY BAKER CAME PRETTY NEAR RUNNING OFF WITH A CIRCUS
Just before the circus came, about the end of July, something happened
that made Pony mean to run off more than anything that ever was. His
father and mother were coming home from a walk, in the evening; it was
so hot nobody could stay in the house, and just as they were coming to
the front steps Pony stole up behind them and tossed a snowball which he
had got out of the garden at his mother, just for fun. The flower struck
her very softly on her hair, for she had no bonnet on, and she gave a
jump and a hollo that made Pony laugh; and then she caught him by the
arm and boxed his ears.
"Oh, my goodness! It was you, was it, you good-for-nothing boy? I
thought it was a bat!" she said, and she broke out crying and ran into
the house, and would not mind his father, who was calling after her,
"Lucy, Lucy, my dear child!"
Pony was crying, too, for he did not intend to frighten his mother, and
when she took his fun as if he had done something wicked he did not know
what to think. He stole off to bed, and he lay there crying in the dark
and expecting that she would come to him, as she always did, to have him
say that he was sorry when he had been wicked, or to tell him that she
was sorry when she thought she had not been quite fair with him. But she
did not come, and after a good while his father came and said: "Are you
awake, Pony? I am sorry your mother misunderstood your fun. But you
mustn't mind it, dear boy. She's not well, and she's very nervous."
"I don't care!" Pony sobbed out. "She won't have a chance to touch me
again!" For he had made up his mind to run off with the circus which was
coming the next Tuesday.
He turned his face away, sobbing, and his father, after standing by his
bed a moment, went away without saying anything but "Don't forget your
prayers, Pony. You'll feel differently in the morning, I hope."
Pony fell asleep thinking how he would come back to the Boy's Town with
the circus when he was grown up, and when he came out in the ring riding
three horses bareback he would see his father and mother and sisters in
one of the lower seats. They would not know him, but he would know them,
and he would send for them to come to the dressing-room, and would be
very good to them, all but his mother; he would be very cold and stiff
with her, though he would know that she was prouder of him than all the
rest put together, and she would go away almost crying.
[Illustration: HE BEGAN BEING COLD AND STIFF WITH HER THE VERY NEXT
MORNING]
He began being cold and stiff with her the very next morning, although
she was better than ever to him, and gave him waffles for breakfast with
unsalted butter, and tried to pet him up. That whole day she kept trying
to do things for him, but he would scarcely speak to her; and at night
she came to him and said, "What makes you act so strangely, Pony? Are
you offended with your mother?"
"Yes, I am!" said Pony, haughtily, and he twitched away from where she
was sitting on the side of his bed, leaning over him.
"On account of last night, Pony?" she asked, softly.
"I reckon you know well enough," said Pony, and he tried to be disgusted
with her for being such a hypocrite, but he had to set his teeth hard,
hard, or he would have broken down crying.
"If it's for that, you mustn't, Pony dear. You don't know how you
frightened me. When your snowball hit me, I felt sure it was a bat, and
I'm so afraid of bats, you know. I didn't mean to hurt my poor boy's
feelings so, and you mustn't mind it any more, Pony."
She stooped down and kissed him on the forehead, but he did not move or
say anything; only, after that he felt more forgiving toward his mother.
He made up his mind to be good to her along with the rest when he came
back with the circus. But still he meant to run off with the circus. He
did not see how he could do anything else, for he had told all the boys
that day that he was going to do it; and when they just laughed, and
said, "Oh yes. Think you can fool your grandmother! It'll be like
running off with the Indians," Pony wagged his head, and said they would
see whether it would or not, and offered to bet them what they dared.
The morning of the circus day all the fellows went out to the
corporation line to meet the circus procession. There were ladies and
knights, the first thing, riding on spotted horses; and then a
band-chariot, all made up of swans and dragons. There were about twenty
baggage-wagons; but before you got to them there was the greatest thing
of all. It was a chariot drawn by twelve Shetland ponies, and it was
shaped like a big shell, and around in the bottom of the shell there
were little circus actors, boys and girls, dressed in their circus
clothes, and they all looked exactly like fairies. They scarce seemed
to see the fellows, as they ran alongside of their chariot, but Hen
Billard and Archy Hawkins, who were always cutting up, got close enough
to throw some peanuts to the circus boys, and some of the little circus
girls laughed, and the driver looked around and cracked his whip at the
fellows, and they all had to get out of the way then.
Jim Leonard said that the circus boys and girls were all stolen, and
nobody was allowed to come close to them for fear they would try to send
word to their friends. Some of the fellows did not believe it, and
wanted to know how he knew it; and he said he read it in a paper; after
that nobody could deny it. But he said that if you went with the circus
men of your own free will they would treat you first-rate; only they
would give you burnt brandy to keep you little; nothing else but burnt
brandy would do it, but that would do it, sure.
Pony was scared at first when he heard that most of the circus fellows
were stolen, but he thought if he went of his own accord he would be all
right. Still, he did not feel so much like running off with the circus
as he did before the circus came. He asked Jim Leonard whether the
circus men made all the children drink burnt brandy; and Archy Hawkins
and Hen Billard heard him ask, and began to mock him. They took him up
between them, one by his arms and the other by the legs, and ran along
with him, and kept saying, "Does it want to be a great big circus actor?
Then it shall, so it shall," and, "We'll tell the circus men to be very
careful of you, Pony dear!" till Pony wriggled himself loose and began
to stone them.
After that they had to let him alone, for when a fellow began to stone
you in the Boy's Town you had to let him alone, unless you were going to
whip him, and the fellows only wanted to have a little fun with Pony.
But what they did made him all the more resolved to run away with the
circus, just to show them.
He helped to carry water for the circus men's horses, along with the
boys who earned their admission that way. He had no need to do it,
because his father was going to take him in, anyway; but Jim Leonard
said it was the only way to get acquainted with the circus men. Still,
Pony was afraid to speak to them, and he would not have said a word to
any of them if it had not been for one of them speaking to him first,
when he saw him come lugging a great pail of water, and bending far over
on the right to balance it.
"That's right," the circus man said to Pony. "If you ever fell into that
bucket you'd drown, sure."
He was a big fellow, with funny eyes, and he had a white bulldog at his
heels; and all the fellows said he was the one who guarded the outside
of the tent when the circus began, and kept the boys from hooking in
under the curtain.
Even then Pony would not have had the courage to say anything, but Jim
Leonard was just behind him with another bucket of water, and he spoke
up for him. "He wants to go with the circus."
They both set down their buckets, and Pony felt himself turning pale
when the circus man came toward them. "Wants to go with the circus,
heigh? Let's have a look at you." He took Pony by the shoulders and
turned him slowly round, and looked at his nice clothes, and took him by
the chin
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* * * * *
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has |
| been preserved. |
| |
| Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For |
| a complete list, please see the end of this document. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
* * * * *
VOL. I. April, 1905 No. 4.
JOURNAL OF THE
UNITED STATES
INFANTRY
ASSOCIATION
PUBLISHED QUARTERLY
BY THE UNITED STATES INFANTRY ASSOCIATION
75 CENTS PER COPY; $3.00 PER YEAR
MAJOR WM. P. EVANS, A.A.G., _Editor_
1800 F STREET NORTHWEST,
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Entered July 5, 1904, at the Post Office at Washington, D.C.,
as second-class matter, under act of March 3, 1879. Copyright,
1904, by the U.S. Infantry Association. All rights reserved.
THE UNITED STATES
INFANTRY
ASSOCIATION
OFFICERS
_President._
Major-General J.C. BATES, U.S. Army.
_Vice-President._
Lieutenant-Colonel JAS. S. PETTIT, U.S. Infantry.
_Assistant Adjutant-General._
_Secretary and Treasurer._
Captain BENJAMIN ALVORD, General Staff.
_Executive Council._
Lieutenant-Colonel JAMES S. PETTIT, U.S. Infantry, A.A.G.
Major WM. P. EVANS, U.S. Infantry, A.A.G.
Major JOHN S. MALLORY, 12th Infantry, G.S.
Captain BENJAMIN ALVORD, 25th Infantry, G.S.
Captain H.C. HALE, 15th Infantry, G.S.
Captain C.H. MUIR, 2d Infantry, G.S.
Captain FRANK MCINTYRE, 19th Infantry, G.S.
Captain D.E. NOLAN, 30th Infantry, G.S.
THE DEFENCE OF DUFFER'S DRIFT.
BY CAPTAIN E.D. SWINTON, D.S.O., R.E.--(BACKSIGHT FORETHOUGHT.)
BY PERMISSION.
PROLOGUE.
Upon an evening after a long and tiring trek, I arrived at Dreamdorp.
The local atmosphere, combined with a heavy meal, are responsible for
the following nightmare, consisting of a series of dreams. To make the
sequence of the whole intelligible, it is necessary to explain that,
though the scene of each vision was the same, yet by some curious
mental process I had no recollection of the place whatsoever. In each
dream the locality was totally new to me, and I had an entirely fresh
detachment. Thus I had not the great advantage of working over
familiar ground. One thing, and one only, was carried on from dream to
dream, and that was the vivid recollection of the general lessons
previously learnt. These finally produced success.
The whole series of dreams, however, remained in my memory as a
connected whole when I awoke.
FIRST DREAM.
"Any fool can get into a hole."--_Old Chinese proverb._
"If left to you, for defence make spades."--_Bridge Maxim._
I felt lonely, and not a little sad, as I stood on the bank of the
river near Duffer's Drift and watched the red dust haze, raised by the
southward departing column in the distance, turn slowly into gold as
it hung in the afternoon sunlight. It was just three o'clock, and here
I was on the banks of the Silliaasvogel river, left behind by my
column with a party of fifty N.C.O.'s and men to hold the drift. It
was an important ford, because it was the only one across which
wheeled traffic could pass for some miles up or down the river.
[Illustration: MAP OF DUFFER'S DRIFT.]
The river was a sluggish stream, not now in flood, crawling along at
the very bottom of its bed between steep banks which were almost
vertical, or at any rate too steep for wagons everywhere except at the
drift itself. The banks from the river edge to their tops and some
distance outwards were covered with dense thorn and other bushes,
which formed a screen impenetrable to the sight. They were also broken
by small ravines and holes, where the earth had been eaten away by the
river when in flood, and were consequently very rough.
Some two thousand odd yards north of the drift was a flat-topped,
rocky mountain, and about a mile to the northeast appeared the usual
sugar-loaf kopje, covered with bushes and boulders--steep on the
south, but gently falling to the north; this had a farm on the near
side of it. About a thousand yards south of the drift was a convex and
smooth hill, somewhat like an inverted basin, sparsely sown with small
boulders, and with a Kaffir kraal,
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THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE
Of Literature, Science, and Art.
VOLUME IV
AUGUST TO DECEMBER, 1851.
NEW-YORK:
STRINGER & TOWNSEND, 222 BROADWAY.
FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.
BY THE NUMBER, 25 CTS.; THE VOLUME, $1; THE YEAR, $3.
Transcriber's note: Contents for entire volume 4 in this text. However
this text contains only issue Vol. 4, No. 1. Minor typos have been
corrected and footnotes moved to the end of the article.
PREFACE TO THE FOURTH VOLUME.
The conclusion of the Fourth Volume of a periodical may be accepted as
a sign of its permanent establishment. The proprietors of the
INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE have the satisfaction of believing that, while
there has been a steady increase of sales, ever since the publication
of the first number of this work, there has likewise been as regular
an augmentation of its interest, value, and adaptation to the wants of
the reading portion of our community. While essentially an Eclectic,
relying very much for success on a reproduction of judiciously
selected and fairly acknowledged Foreign Literature, it has contained
from month to month such an amount of New Articles as justified its
claim to consideration as an Original Miscellany. And in choosing from
European publications, articles to reprint or to translate for these
pages, care has been taken not only to avoid that vein of
licentiousness in morals, and skepticism in religion, which in so
lamentable a degree characterize a large portion of the popular
literature of this age, but also to extract from foreign periodicals
that American element with which the rising importance of our country
has caused so many of them to be infused; so that, notwithstanding the
fact that more than half the contents of the INTERNATIONAL are from
the minds of Europeans, the Magazine is essentially more _American_
than any other now published.
For the future, the publishers have made arrangements that will insure
very decided and desirable improvements, which will be more fully
disclosed in the first number of the ensuing volume; eminent original
writers will be added to our list of contributors; from Germany,
France, and Great Britain, we have increased our literary resources;
and more attention will be given to the pictorial illustration of such
subjects as may be advantageously treated in engravings. Among those
authors whose contributions have appeared in the INTERNATIONAL
hitherto, we may mention:
MISS FENIMORE COOPER,
MISS ALICE CAREY,
MRS. E. OAKES SMITH,
MRS. M. E. HEWITT,
MRS. ALICE B. NEAL,
BISHOP SPENCER,
HENRY AUSTIN LAYARD,
PARKE GODWIN,
JOHN R. THOMPSON,
W. C. RICHARDS,
W. GILMORE SIMMS,
BAYARD TAYLOR,
ROBERT HENRY STODDARD,
ALFRED B. STREET,
THOMAS EWBANK,
E. W. ELLSWORTH,
G. P. R. JAMES,
DR. JOHN W. FRANCIS,
MAUNSELL B. FIELD,
DR. STARBUCK MAYO,
JOHN E. WARREN,
A. OAKEY HALL,
HORACE GREELEY,
RICHARD B. KIMBALL,
THE AUTHOR OF "NILE NOTES,"
THE AUTHOR OF "HARRY FRANCO."
REV. J. C. RICHMOND,
REV. H. W. PARKER,
JAMES T. FIELDS,
R. S. CHILTON.
The foreign writers, from whom we have selected, need not be
enumerated; they embrace the principal living masters of literary art;
and we shall continue to avail ourselves of their new productions as
largely as justice to them and the advantage and pleasure of our
readers may seem to justify.
NEW-YORK, December 1, 1851.
CONTENTS:
VOLUME IV. AUGUST TO DECEMBER, 1851.
Alred.--_By Elmina W. Carey_, 27
Alexander, Last days of the Emperor.--_A. Dumas_, 233
America, as Abused by a German, 448
American Intercommunication, 461
American Literature, Studies of.--_Philarete Chasles_, 163
American and European Scenery Compared.--_By the late J. F. Cooper_, 625
Anacreon. Twentieth O
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by The Internet Archive)
CAMBRIDGE BIOLOGICAL SERIES.
GENERAL EDITOR:--ARTHUR E. SHIPLEY, M.A., F.R.S.
FELLOW AND TUTOR OF CHRIST’s COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
GRASSES.
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER.
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET.
[Illustration]
ALSO
London: H. K. LEWIS, 136, GOWER STREET, W.C.
Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS.
New York: G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS.
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN & CO. LTD.
[_All Rights reserved._]
GRASSES
A HANDBOOK FOR USE IN THE FIELD
AND LABORATORY.
BY
H. MARSHALL WARD, SC.D., F.R.S.
LATE PROFESSOR OF BOTANY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.
CAMBRIDGE:
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
1908
_First Edition 1901 Reprinted 1908_
PREFACE.
The following pages have been written in the hope that they may be
used in the field and in the laboratory with specimens of our ordinary
grasses in the hand. Most of the exercises involved demand exact
study by means of a good hand-lens, a mode of investigation far too
much neglected in modern teaching. The book is not intended to be a
complete manual of grasses, but to be an account of our common native
species, so arranged that the student may learn how to closely observe
and deal with the distinctive characters of these remarkable plants
when such problems as the botanical analysis of a meadow or pasture,
of hay, of weeds, or of “seed” grasses are presented, as well as when
investigating questions of more abstract scientific nature.
I have not hesitated, however, to introduce general statements on the
biology and physiological peculiarities of grasses where such may serve
the purpose of interesting the reader in the wider botanical bearings
of the subject, though several reasons may be urged against extending
this part of the theme in a book intended to be portable, and of direct
practical use to students in the field.
I have pleasure in expressing my thanks to Mr R. H. Biffen for
carefully testing the classification of “seeds” on pp. 135-174, and to
him and to Mr Shipley for kindly looking over the proofs; also to Mr
Lewton-Brain, who has tested the classification of leaf-sections put
forward on pp. 72-82, and prepared the drawings for Figs. 21-28.
That errors are entirely absent from such a work as this is perhaps too
much to expect: I hope they are few, and that readers will oblige me
with any corrections they may find necessary or advantageous for the
better working of the tables.
The list of the chief authorities referred to, which students who
desire to proceed further with the study of grasses should consult, is
given at the end.
I have pleasure in acknowledging my indebtedness to the following
works for illustrations which are inserted by permission of the
several publishers:--Stebler’s _Forage Plants_ (published by Nutt &
Co.), Nobbe’s _Handbuch der Samenkunde_ (Wiegandt, Hempel and Parey,
Berlin), Harz’s _Landwirthschaftliche Samenkunde_ (Paul Parey, Berlin),
Strasburger and Noll’s _Text-Book of Botany_ (Macmillan & Co.),
Figuier’s _Vegetable World_ (Cassell & Co.), Lubbock’s _Flowers, Fruits
and Seeds_ (Macmillan & Co.), Kerner’s _Natural History of Plants_
(Blackie & Son), and Oliver’s _First Book of Indian Botany_ (Macmillan
& Co.).
It is impossible to avoid the question of variation in work of this
kind, and students will without doubt come across instances--especially
in such genera as _Agropyrum_, _Festuca_, _Agrostis_ and _Bromus_--of
small variations which show how impossible it is to fit the facts
of living organisms into the rigid frames of classification. It
may possibly be urged that this invalidates all attempts at such
classifications: the same argument applies to all our systems, though
it is perhaps less disastrous to the best Natural Systems which attempt
to take in large groups of facts, than to artificial systems selected
for special purposes. Perhaps something useful may be learned by
showing more clearly where and how grasses vary, and I hope that the
application to them of these preliminary tests may elucidate more facts
as we proceed.
H. M. W.
CAMBRIDGE, _April_, 1901.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
THE VEGETATIVE ORGANS 1
CHAPTER II.
THE VEGETATIVE ORGANS (_continued_) 17
CHAPTER III.
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THE LOG OF A NONCOMBATANT
by Horace Green
Staff Correspondent of the New York Evening Post
Special Correspondent of the Boston Journal
1915
Preface
In the following pages the ego is thickly spread. Their publication is
the result of persuasion from many sources that, before returning to
the war zone, I should put into connected form my personal
experiences as correspondent during the first year of the War of
Nations. A few of these adventures were mentioned in news letters
from the Continent, where I limited myself so far as possible to
descriptions of armies at war and peoples in time of stress; but the
greater part of them were merely jotted down from time to time for my
own benefit in "The Log of a Noncombatant."
Contents
I. From Broadway To Ghent
II. The Second Bombardment Of Termonde
III. Captive
IV. A Clog Dance On The Scheldt
V. The Bombardment Of Antwerp
VI. The Surrender Of Antwerp
VII. Spying On Spies
VIII. The Sorrow Of The People
Appendix: Atrocities
The Log Of A Noncombatant
Chapter I
From Broadway To Ghent
When the war broke out in August, 1914, I was at work in the City
Room of the "New York Evening Post." One morning, during the first
week of activities, the copy boy handed me a telegram which was
signed "Luther, Boston," and contained the rather cryptic message:
--"How about this fight?"
It was some moments before I could recall the time, more than two
years before, when I had last seen the writer, Willard B. Luther,
Boston lawyer, devotee of some, and critic of many kinds of sport.
We had been sitting on that previous occasion--a crowd of college
fellows, including Luther and myself--in a certain room in
Cambridge, Massachusetts, not far from the University in that
neighborhood where Luther had attended the Law School and the
rest of us, on our respective graduation days, had received valuable
pieces of parchment with the presidential signature attached. The
conversation had already run through the question of Votes for
Women, progressive politics, and prize-fights, and before the card
game began it had settled on the last-named, chiefly because of my
own vainglorious description of adventures at Reno, Nevada, at the
time of the Jeffries-Johnson battle for the heavyweight championship
of the world. I remember telling with some gusto of my first
newspaper interview--one with "Bob" Fitzsimmons, then the Old
Man of the ring, and "Gentleman" Jim Corbett, who was Jeffries'
trainer at Reno.
"I had always wanted to see that performance," said Luther, "and
would have gone in a flash if I could have got any one to make the
trip with me. But remember this fact: whenever the next big fight is
held I'm going with you." Later in the evening we shook hands on the
proposition.
At the time that Luther's telegram came I was planning to start for the
Continent as Staff Correspondent of the "New York Evening Post"
and Special Correspondent of the "Boston Journal." Remembering
that Cambridge agreement I immediately wired:--
"Yes. This fight will do."
So that is how it came to pass that Luther and myself boarded the
Campania together, landed in Liverpool, cast about for ways and
means of getting into the scrimmage, and for the first month and a
half of my four months of wandering on the Continent were brother
conspirators, until the duties of partnership called my friend home and
left me without a companion in adventure.
In London we absorbed to some extent a heavy British fog and to a
greater extent British public opinion. We marveled at the exterior calm
of a nation plunged in the greatest of wars, yet fighting, so it seemed
at the time, with its top hat on and its smile still undisturbed. Across
the English Channel three days later the Dutch steam packet
Princess Juliana carried us safely through mine fields and between
lanes of British torpedo boats and torpedo boat destroyers. We
landed on the Continent at Flushing. Thence we headed for The
Hague, Holland, the neutral gateway of northern Europe, where we
found the American Minister, Dr. Henry van <DW18>, and his first
secretary, Marshall Langhorne, shouldering the work of the American
Legation in its chameleonesque capacity as bank, post-office,
detective bureau, bureau of information, charity organization, and one
might even say temporary home for the stranded travelers of every
rank and nation.
Antwerp, the temporary capital of Belgium, was at this time invested,
but not yet besieged, by the German army. On the south the city was
already cut off by several regiments of the Ninth and Tenth German
Army Corps under General von Boehn. The River Scheldt and the
Dutch border formed a wall on the north and west. It was to Antwerp,
therefore, that we determined to go. After listening to the usual flood
of warnings against entering the fighting zone, and drinking our fill of
stories of atrocity and hate which every refugee brought across the
border into Holland, we took a couple of reefs in our baggage, and,
hoisting our knapsacks, set our course for the temporary Belgian
capital. By rail we traveled south across the level fields and lush
green meadows of Holland, over bridges ready to be dynamited in
case of invasion, and through training camps of the 450,000 Dutch
soldiers then mobilized along the border. At a little town called
Eschen the train stopped because the Belgians had torn up the
tracks.
Seated on the cross-piece of a joggling two-wheeled ox cart, moving
at the rate of not more than four miles an hour, with a dumb
specimen for a driver
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WASHINGTON.
[Illustration]
THE
EARLY LIFE
OF
WASHINGTON;
DESIGNED FOR THE
INSTRUCTION AND AMUSEMENT
OF
THE YOUNG.
By a Friend of Youth.
PROVIDENCE:
KNOWLES, VOSE AND COMPANY.
1838.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1838, by Knowles,
Vose & Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the
District of Rhode-Island.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER FIRST.
Washington’s birth――his ancestors――the first school he attended――family
anecdotes――death of his father.
CHAPTER SECOND.
Family anecdote――George lives with his half-brother Augustine about
three years, and attends Mr. Williams’s school――his manuscript book of
forms――his rules of behavior.
CHAPTER THIRD.
Came very near entering the British Navy at the age of fourteen――attends
school at Fredericksburg――becomes a practical surveyor at the age of
sixteen――the Indian war dance――continues surveying three years――is
appointed Adjutant General of the Militia, with the rank of Major, at
the age of nineteen――accompanies his half-brother Lawrence to
Barbadoes――Lawrence dies and leaves George the Mount Vernon estate.
CHAPTER FOURTH.
Washington’s mission from the Governor of Virginia to the French
commandant, at the age of twenty-one――narrowly escapes being killed by
an Indian――came near being drowned in the Allegany river――visits Queen
Aliquippa.
CHAPTER FIFTH.
Major Washington, at the age of twenty-two, is appointed to command the
regular Virginia forces, consisting of two companies――being increased
to six companies, he is raised to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, and
made second in command――his modesty――the fort, just begun at the fork
of the Ohio, surrenders to the French――Washington attacks and defeats a
party of French.
CHAPTER SIXTH.
Battle of the Great Meadows――vote of thanks to Colonel Washington and
his officers――disapproving of the arrangement of the Virginia troops,
he retires from the service.
CHAPTER SEVENTH.
Is invited by General Braddock to join his expedition as a
volunteer――accepts the invitation――Battle of Monongahela――Washington
conducts the retreat with ability, and retains the confidence of the
public.
CHAPTER EIGHTH.
Anecdote――Washington is appointed to command the Virginia forces――his
visit to Boston――commands the advance division at the taking of Fort
Du Quesne――resigns his military commission――marries――devotes himself
chiefly to agricultural pursuits till called to take command of the
American armies in the war of Independence.
TO THE READER.
The following is a narrative of him, who has been justly styled “The
Father of his Country.” It comprises the first twenty-seven years of
his life. Though this is the least brilliant portion of Washington’s
life, it is a _valuable_ portion of it; because it exhibits those
traits of character which laid the foundation of his future greatness,
and are worthy the attention and imitation of youth.
The author, in remarking that he has drawn his information from the
most authentic sources, acknowledges his obligations to the works of
Weems, Ramsay, Marshall, and M’Guire, and especially to the valuable
notes and observations of Sparks.
THE EARLY LIFE OF WASHINGTON.
CHAPTER FIRST.
Washington’s birth――his ancestors――the first school he attended――family
anecdotes――death of his father.
George Washington was born in Virginia, on the 22d of February, 1732.
The particular place of his birth was Pope’s Creek, Washington parish,
in the county of Westmoreland. The name of his great grandfather was
John Washington, who came from the north of England and settled on
Pope’s Creek, in Virginia, in the year 1655. He afterwards married
Miss Pope, the daughter of the gentleman from whom the Creek took its
name. John Washington is believed to have been a military man in early
life. His will, now at Mount Vernon, is endorsed thus: “The will of
Lieutenant Colonel Washington.” This will contains a small bequest to
the church, and affords evidence that he was a pious man. As the parish
in which he lived has always borne his name, he was probably very
instrumental in establishing it.
John Washington had three children, Lawrence, John and Ann. Lawrence
Washington, the oldest son and the grandfather of George, inherited the
Pope’s Creek farm.――Augustin Washington, the son of Lawrence and the
father of George, was born in the year 1694. He was probably the eldest
son of Lawrence, as he inherited the patrimonial estate at Pope’s Creek.
Augustin Washington was married twice. His first wife was Jane Butler,
by whom he had four children, viz. Butler, Lawrence, Augustin, jun. and
Jane. Butler and Jane died young. Lawrence and Augustin lived to be
men. The second wife was Mary Ball, a young lady of highly respectable
family in the northern part of Virginia.――George was the first fruit of
this union. He was the oldest of six children, viz. George, Elizabeth,
Samuel, John Augustin, Charles and Mildred. Mildred died very
young.――George was baptized April the 5th, 1732.
The church of England was then almost the only denomination of
Christians in the colony of Virginia. The parents of George Washington
were members of this church, and brought up their family in the habit
of regular attendance on public worship.
The first school that George attended, was kept by Mr. Hobby, an
elderly man, who was both the school master and the sexton of the
parish. By this old man, the father of his country was first taught to
read. Although George’s father sent him to this school, he took upon
himself the oversight of his education, and the pleasing duty of early
instilling into his mind the principles of piety and virtue. His manner
of doing this appears by the following anecdotes, which were related to
the Rector of Mount Vernon Parish, by a venerable lady now deceased,
who, as a friend and relative, spent many of her youthful days in the
family.
One fine morning in the autumn of 1737, Mr. Washington, having George,
then five years old, by the hand, came to the door and invited cousin
Washington and myself to walk with them to the orchard, promising to
show us a fine sight. On arriving at the orchard, we were presented
with a fine sight indeed. The ground, as far as we could see, was
covered with mellow apples, and yet the trees were bending under the
weight of their fruit. “George,” said his father, “don’t you remember,
my son, when this good cousin of yours brought you that fine large
apple, last spring, that I could hardly prevail upon you to divide
it with your brothers and sisters? And don’t you remember I then told
you we ought to be generous to each other because the Almighty is so
bountiful to us?” Poor George could not say a word, but hanging down
his head, looked quite confused. “Now look around, my son,” continued
his father, “and see how kindly the Almighty has treated us, and learn
from this how we ought to treat our fellow creatures.” George looked a
while in silence on the abundance of fruit before him, then lifting his
eyes to his father, he said, with emotion, “Well, father, only forgive
me this time, and see if I am ever so stingy any more.”
Mr. Augustine Washington took great pains early to inspire his son
George with the love of truth. The following anecdote shows that his
endeavors were not without success.
When George was about six years old, he became the owner of a hatchet,
with which, like most other little boys, he was very much delighted.
He went about chopping every thing that came in his way. One day, in
the garden, he unluckily tried the edge of his hatchet upon the body
of a beautiful young English cherry tree, which he cut so badly that
the tree never recovered from the injury. The next morning his father
seeing what had befallen the tree, which, by the by, was a great
favorite with him, came into the house, and with much warmth, asked
who had done the mischief, declaring at the same time, that he would
not have taken five guineas for the tree.――Nobody could tell him any
thing about it. Presently George and his hatchet made their appearance.
“George,” said his father, “do you know who cut that beautiful cherry
tree yonder in the garden?” George was taken by surprise. He hesitated
for a moment; but he soon recovered himself.――Looking at his father,
he said, “I will not tell a lie, father, I cut it with my hatchet.”
The delighted father, embracing his child, said, “No matter about the
tree, George; you have frankly told me the truth. Though you saw I
was offended, you were not afraid to do right. The pleasure I enjoy
to witness this noble conduct in my son is of more value to me than a
thousand such trees.”
Mr. Washington took the following method to impress upon his son the
existence and wisdom of God from the evidence of design in his works.
On a bed in the garden, well prepared for the purpose, he traced with
a stick the letters of his son’s name. He then very carefully sowed
seed in the small furrows made by the stick, covered it over and
smoothed the ground nicely with a roller. In a few days the seed came
up, and exhibited in large letters, the words GEORGE WASHINGTON.――They
soon caught the eye for which they were intended. Again and again the
astonished boy read his name, springing up from the earth, fresh and
green. He ran to his father and exclaimed, “O father! come here! come
with me and I will show you such a sight as you never saw in all your
life.” Eagerly seizing his father’s hand, he tugged him along through
the garden to the spot. “Look there, father,” said he, “did you ever
see such a sight before?” “It is a curious affair, indeed, George.”
“But, father, who made my name there?” “It grew there, my son.” “I
know it grew there, but who made the letters so as to spell my name?”
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DEFENSE OF THE FAITH
AND THE SAINTS
BY
B. H. ROBERTS
AUTHOR OF
"The Gospel"
"Outlines of Ecclesiastical History"
"New Witness for God"
"Mormon Doctrine of Deity"
Etc., Etc.
VOLUME II.
Salt Lake City
1912
GENERAL FOREWORD
No word of Preface is necessary to this Volume, except to say that
in presenting it to his readers, the author feels that that he is
fulfilling a promise made to them when Volume I of the series was
issued.
A word of explanation will be found as an introduction to each
subdivision of the book, which excludes the necessity of making any
reference to such subdivisions in this General Forward.
THE AUTHOR.
Salt Lake City, January, 1912.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
GENERAL FOREWORD
Part I.
ORIGIN OF THE BOOK OF MORMON.
Schroeder-Roberts' Debate.
Foreword.
The Appearing of Moroni.
The Book of Mormon.
Description of the Nephite Record.
THE ORIGIN OF THE BOOK OF MORMON.
By Theodore Schroeder.
I.
Solomon Spaulding and his first manuscript.
Spaulding's rewritten manuscript.
Erroneous theories examined.
II.
How about Sidney Rigdon?
Rigdon's prior religious dishonesty.
Rigdon had opportunity to steal the manuscript.
Rigdon's only denial analyzed.
Rigdon and Lambdin in 1815.
Rigdon exhibits Spaulding's manuscript.
Rigdon foreknows the coming and contents of the Book of Mormon.
III.
From Rigdon to Smith via P. P. Pratt.
Rigdon visits Smith before Mormonism.
The conversion of Parley P. Pratt.
Rigdon's miraculous conversion.
The plagiarism clinched.
IV.
For the love of gold, not God.
Concluding comment.
THE ORIGIN OF THE BOOK OF MORMON.
By Brigham H. Roberts.
I.
Justifications for replying to Mr. Schroeder.
Preliminary considerations.
Various classes of witnesses.
Conflicting theories of origin.
Mr. Schroeder's statement of his case.
The facts of the Spaulding manuscript.
The task of the present writer.
The enemies of the Prophet.
"Dr." Philastus Hurlburt.
Rev. Adamson Bently, et al.
II.
The "second" Spaulding manuscript.
The failure of Howe's book.
The Conneaut witnesses.
E. D. Howe discredited as a witness.
The Davidson statement.
Alleged statement of Mrs. Davidson, formerly the wife of Solomon
Spaulding.
The Haven-Davidson interview.
Mrs. Ellen E. Dickinson's repudiation of the Davidson statement.
Reverend John A. Clark and the Davidson statement.
Mutilation of the Haven-Davidson interview.
Mr. Schroeder and the Davidson statement.
Why Mr. Schroeder discredits the Spaulding witnesses.
III.
The connection of Sidney Rigdon with the Spaulding manuscript.
Of Rigdon's alleged "religious dishonesty."
Rigdon's opportunity to steal Spaulding's manuscript.
Did Rigdon exhibit the Spaulding manuscript.
Did Rigdon foreknown the coming and contents of the Book of Mormon?
Alexander Campbell and the Book of Mormon in 1831.
IV.
"The Angel of the Prairies."
The supposed meetings of Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon before the
publication of the Book of Mormon.
Of the conversion of Pratt and Rigdon.
The denials of Rigdon.
The real origin of the Spaulding theory.
The motive for publishing the Book of Mormon.
Concluding remarks.
Part II.
RECENT DISCUSSION OF MORMON AFFAIRS.
Foreword.
I.
AN ADDRESS.
By the Presidency of the Church.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to the world.
II.
REVIEW OF ADDRESS TO THE WORLD.
By the Ministerial Association.
Foreword.
Review.
III.
ANSWER TO MINISTERIAL ASSOCIATION'S REVIEW.
By B. H. Roberts.
Foreword.
Answer.
Part III.
JOSEPH SMITH'S DOCTRINES VINDICATED.
Foreword.
I.
THE FIRST MESSAGE OF MORMONISM VINDICATED.
Joseph Smith's first vision.
"Creeds are an abomination."
God's first message confirmed.
Reform in Protestantism.
What Mormonism affirms.
Immortality of man.
II.
OTHER DOCTRINES OF JOSEPH SMITH VINDICATED BY THE COLLEGES.
I. Men the Avatars of God.
II. The Existence of a Plurality of Divine Intelligences--Gods.
Part IV.
MISCELLANEOUS DISCOURSES.
I.
THE SPIRIT OF MORMONISM; A SLANDER REFUTED.
Introductory.
People judged by their laws.
The calling of Sidney Rigdon.
A few days with the Prophet--Prayerfulness.
Woman's place in Mormonism.
God's Herald of the Resurrection and Human Brotherhood--Woman.
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THE BATTLE OF LIFE.
A LOVE STORY.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF LIFE
A LOVE STORY]
THE
BATTLE OF LIFE.
A Love Story.
BY
CHARLES DICKENS.
London:
BRADBURY & EVANS, WHITEFRIARS.
MDCCCXLVI.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
THIS
Christmas Book
IS CORDIALLY INSCRIBED TO MY ENGLISH FRIENDS
IN SWITZERLAND
ILLUSTRATIONS.
_Title._ _Artist._ _Engraver._
FRONTISPIECE D. MACLISE, R.A. _Thompson._
TITLE D. MACLISE, R.A. _Thompson._
PART THE FIRST R. DOYLE. _Dalziel._
WAR C. STANFIELD, R.A. _Williams._
PEACE C. STANFIELD, R.A. _Williams._
THE PARTING BREAKFAST J. LEECH. _Dalziel._
PART THE SECOND R. DOYLE. _Green._
SNITCHEY AND CRAGGS J. LEECH. _Dalziel._
THE SECRET INTERVIEW D. MACLISE, R.A. _Williams._
THE NIGHT OF THE RETURN J. LEECH. _Dalziel._
PART THE THIRD R. DOYLE. _Dalziel._
THE NUTMEG GRATER C. STANFIELD, R.A. _Williams._
THE SISTERS D. MACLISE, R.A. _Williams._
THE BATTLE OF LIFE.
A Love Story.
PART THE FIRST.
[Illustration]
PART THE FIRST
[Illustration]
Once upon a time, it matters little when, and in stalwart England, it
matters little where, a fierce battle was fought. It was fought upon a
long summer day when the waving grass was green. Many a wild flower
formed by the Almighty Hand to be a perfumed goblet for the dew, felt
its enamelled cup fill high with blood that day, and shrinking dropped.
Many an insect deriving its delicate color from harmless leaves and
herbs, was stained anew that day by dying men, and marked its frightened
way with an unnatural track. The painted butterfly took blood into the
air upon the edges of its wings. The stream ran red. The trodden ground
became a quagmire, whence, from sullen pools collected in the prints of
human feet and horses' hoofs, the one prevailing hue still lowered and
glimmered at the sun.
[Illustration]
Heaven keep us from a knowledge of the sights the moon beheld
upon that field, when, coming up above the black line of distant
rising-ground, softened and blurred at the edge by trees, she rose
into the sky and looked upon the plain, strewn with upturned faces
that had once at mothers' breasts sought mothers' eyes, or slumbered
happily. Heaven keep us from a knowledge of the secrets whispered
afterwards upon the tainted wind that blew across the scene of that
day's work and that night's death and suffering! Many a lonely moon
was bright upon the battle-ground, and many a star kept mournful watch
upon it, and many a wind from every quarter of the earth blew over it,
before the traces of the fight were worn away.
They lurked and lingered for a long time, but survived in little things,
for Nature, far above the evil passions of men, soon recovered Her
serenity, and smiled upon the guilty battle-ground as she had done
before, when it was innocent. The larks sang high above it, the swallows
skimmed and dipped and flitted to and fro, the shadows of the flying
clouds pursued each other swiftly, over grass and corn and turnip-field
and wood, and over roof and church-spire in the nestling town among
the trees, away into the bright distance on the borders of the sky
and earth, where the red sunsets faded. Crops were sown, and grew up,
and were gathered in; the stream that had been crimsoned, turned
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LIBRARY BOOKBINDING
Library Bookbinding
by Arthur L. Bailey
_Librarian Wilmington_ (_Delaware_) _Institute Free Library_
Illustration
THE H. W. WILSON COMPANY
White Plains, N. Y., and New York City
1916
Published May, 1916
Copyright, 1916
By The H. W. Wilson Company
PREFACE
It has been the purpose of the writer in these chapters on library
bookbinding to set forth as clearly as possible the best information
relating to processes, materials, routine and various other lesser
matters pertaining to bookbinding which must be taken into consideration
by librarians, or by assistants in charge of binding departments.
Although much of this information exists elsewhere in printed form, it
is scattered through various books and articles. In some respects,
therefore, this book is a gathering together of scattered material. It
is hoped, however, that there is enough new material to make the book of
interest to those who deal daily with binding problems, and that the
book as a whole may help to solve some of the questions relating to
binding in libraries both large and small.
Most books on binding and all books on library binding have devoted some
space to paper, its composition, manufacture, finish and use. As the
subject is so fully dealt with elsewhere it has not been included here.
Those who are interested will find full information in the technical
books on paper, in Mr. Dana's "Notes on book binding for libraries," and
in Messrs. Coutts and Stephen's "Manual of library binding." There is
also an excellent article on wood pulp paper in the Scientific American
of October 4, 1913.
Nor has it seemed desirable to include chapters on commercial binding
nor on historical bindings. Both of these subjects are treated
adequately in Coutts and Stephen's "Manual." The present writer has
limited his discussion to matters dealing directly with the binding of
books for libraries.
In one or two cases the same subject has been treated in two different
chapters because the subject matter belonged in both places, and in
neither case would the discussion be complete without it.
A. L. B.
December 9, 1915.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter I. Introduction 3
II. Selection of a binder 9
III. Processes 13
IV. Materials 51
V. Specifications 87
VI. Binding before purchase and reinforcing 103
VII. Cost 115
VIII. Preparing for the bindery 125
IX. Binding records and routine 149
X. Repairing, recasing, recovering etc. 165
XI. Magazine binders 199
XII. Pamphlets 205
XIII. Bindery in the library building 209
Appendix A. Specifications of the U. S. Bureau
of Standards for book cloths 217
B. Reading list on binding 221
C. List of technical terms 225
Index 245
LIBRARY BOOKBINDING
LIBRARY BOOKBINDING
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
An examination of the annual reports of libraries in the United States
shows that from four to eight per cent of the total income is spent for
binding; the amounts ranging from $2,000 to over $40,000 a year for this
one item. It must be admitted that these are large sums and that a
knowledge of binding materials and processes is necessary in order to
spend this money wisely. In many libraries the appropriation for books
includes binding and periodicals. It is evident, therefore, that every
dollar saved on binding can be devoted to the purchase of books. And
what librarian does not desire more money for new books?
In spite of the importance of the subject a great deal of ignorance has
prevailed in years past, and far too many librarians of the present day
fail to realize that here is one place where money can be easily wasted.
Possibly one reason for the ignorance about binding is that, except in a
minor degree, it does not directly affect the public, for librarians
are quick to make changes which will increase the interest of the public
in the library. Another reason is that experiments are necessary; and
since it takes time to draw conclusions from experiments, definite rules
have not been formulated.
In fact, experiments are still being tried. But while in the past they
were along the line of making books stronger, the experiments of the
present are rather along the line of adapting different methods to
different books, according to the paper on which they
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THE WISHING MOON
by
LOUISE DUTTON
Author of "The Goddess Girl"
[Illustration: "'_Oh, Judith, won't you speak to me?_'"]
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
Illustrated by Everett Shinn
Garden City New York
Doubleday, Page & Company
1916
Copyright, 1916, by
Louise Dutton
All rights reserved, including that of
translation into foreign languages,
including the Scandinavian
Copyright, 1916, The Metropolitan Magazine Company
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"'Oh, Judith, won't you speak to me?'" _Frontispiece_
(See page 239)
FACING PAGE
"'I know what this means,' she asserted" 128
"'Shut your eyes'" 166
"'Judith, you don't hate me? Say it--say it'" 180
THE WISHING MOON
The Wishing Moon
CHAPTER ONE
A little girl sat on the worn front doorsteps of the Randall house. She
sat very still and straight, with her short, white skirts fluffed
daintily out on both sides, her hands tightly clasped over her thin
knees, and her long, silk-stockinged legs cuddled tight together. She
was bare-headed
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[Illustration: "I give you back the wedding ring."--_Page 400._]
THE BONDWOMAN
BY
MARAH ELLIS RYAN,
AUTHOR OF
"Told in the Hills," "A Pagan of the Alleghanies," etc.
CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:
RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.
MDCCCXCIX.
Copyright, 1899, by Rand, McNally & Co.
All rights reserved.
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London.
THE BONDWOMAN
CHAPTER I.
Near Moret, in France, where the Seine is formed and flows northward,
there lives an old lady named Madame Blanc, who can tell much of the
history written here--though it be a history belonging more to
American lives than French. She was of the Caron establishment when
Judithe first came into the family, and has charge of a home for aged
ladies of education and refinement whose means will not allow of them
providing for themselves. It is a memorial founded by her adopted
daughter and is known as the Levigne Pension. The property on which it
is established is the little Levigne estate--the one forming the only
dowery of Judithe Levigne when she married Philip Alain--Marquis de
Caron.
There is also a bright-eyed, still handsome woman of mature years,
who lives in our South and has charge of another memorial--or had
until recently--a private industrial school for girls of her own
selection. She calls herself a creole of San Domingo, and she also
calls herself Madame Trouvelot--she has been married twice since
she was first known by that name, for she was never the woman to live
alone--not she; but
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LADIES MUST LIVE
by
ALICE DUER MILLER
Author of "Come Out of the Kitchen," etc.
1917
CHAPTER I
Mrs. Ussher was having a small house party in the country over New Year's
Day. This is equivalent to saying that the half dozen most fashionable
people in New York were out of town.
Certain human beings are admitted to have a genius for discrimination in
such matters as objects of art, pigs or stocks. Mrs. Ussher had this same
instinct in regard to fashion, especially where fashions in people were
concerned. She turned toward hidden social availability very much as the
douser's hazel wand turns toward the hidden spring. When she crossed the
room to speak to some woman after dinner, whatever that woman's social
position might formerly have been, you could be sure that at present she
was on the upward wing. When Mrs. Ussher discovered extraordinary
qualities of mind and sympathy in some hitherto impossible man, you might
be certain it was time to begin to book him in advance.
Not that Mrs. Ussher was a kingmaker; she herself had no more power over
the situation than the barometer has over the weather. She merely was
able to foretell; she had the sense of approaching social success.
She was unaware of her own powers, and really supposed that her sudden
and usually ephemeral friendships were based on mutual attraction. The
fact that for years her friends had been the small group of the
momentarily fashionable required, in her eyes, no explanation. So simple
was her creed that she believed people were fashionable for the same
reason that they were her friends, because "they were so nice."
During the short period of their existence, Mrs. Ussher gave to these
friendships the utmost loyalty and devotion. She agonized over the
financial, domestic and romantic troubles of her friends; she sat up till
the small hours, talking to them like a schoolgirl; during the height of
their careers she organized plots for their assistance; and even when
their stars were plainly on the decline, she would often ask them to
lunch, if she happened to be alone.
Many people, we know, are prone to make friends with the rich and great.
Mrs. Ussher's genius consisted in having made friends with them before
they were either. When you hurried to her with some account of a newly
discovered treasure--a beauty or a conversable young man--she would
always say: "Oh, yes, I crossed with her two years ago," or "Isn't he a
dear?--he was once in Jack's office." The strange thing was these
statements were always true; the subjects of them confessed with tears
that "dear Mrs. Ussher" or "darling Laura" was the kindest friend they
had ever had.
Her house party was therefore likely to be notable.
First, there was of course Mrs. Almar--of course without her husband.
There is only one thing, or perhaps two, to be said for Nancy Almar--that
she was very handsome and that she was not a hypocrite, no more than a
pirate is a hypocrite who comes aboard with his cutlass in his teeth.
Mrs. Almar's cutlass was always in her teeth, when it was not in
somebody's vitals.
She had smooth, jet-black hair, done close to her pretty head, a clear
white-and-vermilion complexion, and a good figure, not too tall. She said
little, but everything she did say, she most poignantly meant. If, while
you were talking to her, she suddenly cried out: "Ah, that's really
good!" there was no doubt you had had the good fortune to amuse her;
while if she yawned and left you in the midst of a sentence there was no
question that she was bored.
She hated her husband--not for the conventional reason that she had
married him. She hated him because he was a hypocrite, because he was
always placating and temporizing.
For instance, he had said to her as she was about to start for the
Usshers':
"I hope you'll explain to them why I could not come."
There had never been the least question of Mr. Almar's coming, and she
turned slowly and looked at him as she asked:
"You mean that I would not have gone if you had?"
He did not seem annoyed.
"No," he said, "that I'm called South on business."
"I shan't tell them that," she said, slowly wrapping her furs about her
throat; and then foreseeing a comic moment, she added, "but I'll tell
them you say so, if you like."
She was as good as her word--she usually was.
When the party was at tea about the drawing-room fire, she asked without
the slightest change of expression:
"Would any one like to hear Roland's explanation of why he is not with
us?"
"Had it anything to do with his not being asked?" said a pale young man;
and as soon as he had spoken, he glanced hastily round the circle to
ascertain how his remark had succeeded.
So far as Mrs. Almar was concerned it had not succeeded at all, in fact,
though he did not know it, nothing he said would ever succeed with her
again, although a week before she had hung upon his every word. He had
been a new discovery, something unknown and Bohemian, but alas, a day or
two before, she had observed that underlying his socialistic theories was
an aching desire for social recognition. He liked to tell his bejeweled
hostesses about his friends the car-drivers; but, oh, twenty times more,
he would have liked to tell the car-drivers about his friends the
bejeweled hostesses. For this reason Mrs. Almar despised him, and where
she despised she made no secret of the fact.
"Not asked, Mr. Wickham!" she said. "I assume my husband is asked
wherever I am," and then turning to Laura Ussher she added with a faint
smile: "One's husband is always asked, isn't he?"
"Certainly, as long as you never allow him to come," said another
speaker.
This was the other great beauty of the hour--or, since she was blond and
some years younger than Mrs. Almar, perhaps it would be right to say that
she was the beauty of the hour.
She was very tall, golden, fresh, smooth, yet with faint hollows in her
cheeks that kept her freshness from being insipid. Christine Fenimer had
another advantage--she was unmarried. In spite of the truth of the
observation that a married woman's greatest charm is her husband, he is
also in the most practical sense a disadvantage; he does sometimes stand
across the road of advancement, even in a land of easy divorce. Mrs.
Almar, for instance, was regretfully aware that she might have done much
better than Roland Almar. The great stakes were really open to the
unmarried.
She was particularly aware of this fact at the moment, for the party was
understood to be awaiting a great stake. Mrs. Ussher had discovered a
cousin, a young man who, soon after graduating from a technical college,
had invented a process in the manufacture of rubber that had brought him
a fortune before he was thirty. He was now engaged in spending it on
aviation experiments. He was reckless and successful. Besides which he
was understood to be personally attractive--his picture in a silver
frame stood on a neighboring table. He was of the lean type that Mrs.
Almar admired.
Now it was perfectly clear to her why he was asked. Mrs. Ussher adored
Christine Fenimer. Of all girls in the world it was essential that
Christine should marry money. This man, Max Riatt, new to the fashionable
world, ought to be comparatively easy game. The thing ought to go on
wheels. But Mrs. Almar herself was not indifferent to six feet of
splendid masculinity; nor without her own uses at the moment for a
good-looking young man.
In other words, there was going to be a contest; in the full sight of the
little public that really mattered, the lists were set. Nobody present,
except perhaps Wickham, who was dangerously ignorant of the world in
which he was moving, doubted for one moment that Miss Fenimer had
resolved to marry Max Riatt, if, that is, he turned out to be actually as
per the recommendations of Mrs. Ussher; nor was it less certain that Mrs.
Almar intended that he should be hers.
Of course if Mrs. Ussher had been absolutely single-minded, she would not
have invited Mrs. Almar to this party; but though a warm friend to
Christine Fenimer, Laura was not a fanatic, and the piratical Nancy was
her friend, too.
Mrs. Almar could have pleaded an additional reason for her wish to
interfere with this match, besides the natural one of not wishing Miss
Fenimer to attain any success; and that was the fact that Edward
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THE BOY ALLIES WITH UNCLE SAM'S CRUISERS
By Ensign Robert L. Drake
CHAPTER I
JACK'S ADVENTURE
Frank Chadwick jumped from a chair in the front window and ran toward
the door. A form had swung from the sidewalk along the drive that
marked the entrance to Lord Hasting's London home and at sight of it
Frank had uttered an exclamation. Now, as the figure climbed the
steps, Frank flung open the door.
"Jack!" he exclaimed with outstretched hand. "I feared something had
happened, you have been gone so long and we had heard nothing of you."
"I'm perfectly whole," laughed Jack, grasping his friend's hand. "Why,
I've been gone less than two weeks."
"But you expected to be gone only a day or two."
"That's true, but a fellow can't tell what is going to happen, you
know. I wasn't sure I should find you here when I returned, though."
"You probably wouldn't had you come a day later," returned Frank.
"How's that?"
"We sail tomorrow night," said Frank.
"By George! Then I'm back just in time," declared Jack. "Where bound
this time?"
"I don't know exactly, but personally I believe to America."
"Why?"
"The United States, I understand, is about to declare war on Germany. I
have heard it said that immediately thereafter American troops will be
sent to Europe."
"What's that got to do with our voyage?"
"I'm coming to that. There will be need, of convoys for the American
transports. I believe that is the work in which we will be engaged."
"That will be first rate, for a change," said Jack.
"But come," said Frank, leading the way into the house. "Where have
you been? Tell me about yourself."
"Wait, until I get a breath," laughed Jack, making himself comfortable
in a big armchair. "By the way, where is Lord Hastings?"
"He is in conference with the admiralty."
"And Lady Hastings?"
"Shopping, I believe. However, both will be back before long. Now
let's have an account of your adventures."
"Well, they didn't amount to much," said Jack.
"Where've you been?"
"Pretty close to Heligoland."
"What! Again?"
"Exactly. You remember how Lord Hastings came to us one day and said
that the admiralty had need of a single officer at that moment, and
that we both volunteered?"
"I certainly do," declared Frank, "and we drew straws to see which of
us should go. I lost."
"Exactly. Well, when I reached the admiralty I found there a certain
Captain Ames. I made myself known and was straightway informed that I
would do as well as another. Captain Ames was in command of the
British destroyer Falcon. He was bound on active duty at once, and he
took me along as second in command."
"Where was he bound?" demanded Frank. "And what was the nature of the
work?"
"The nature of the work," said Jack, "was to search out German mines
ahead of the battleships, who were to attempt a raid of Heligoland."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Frank. "I hadn't heard anything about that.
Was the raid a success?"
"It was not," replied Jack briefly.
"Explain," said Frank.
"I'm trying to," smiled Jack. "Give me a chance, will you?"
He became silent and mused for a few moments. Then he said
meditatively:
"The destroyer service might well be called the cavalry of the sea. It
calls for dashing initiative, aggressiveness and courage and daring to
the point of rashness. Where an officer would be justified--even duty
bound--by navy standards to run away with a bigger and more valuable
vessel, the commander of a destroyer often must close in to almost
certain annihilation."
"Hm-m-m," said Frank slyly. "You are not feeling a bit proud of
yourself, are you?"
"Oh, I'm not talking about myself," said Jack quietly. "I was thinking
of a man like Captain Ames--and other men of his caliber. However,
I've been pretty close to death myself, and having come as close to a
fellow as death did to me, I believe he'll become discouraged and
quit. Yes, sir, I don't believe I shall ever die afloat."
"Don't be too cock-sure," said Frank dryly. "However, proceed."
"Well," Jack continued, "I followed Captain Ames aboard the Falcon and
we put to sea immediately. It was the following night that we found
ourselves mixed up in the German mine fields and so close to the
fortress itself that we were in range of the land batteries as well as
the big guns of the German fleet. Our main fleet came far behind us,
for the big ships, of course, would not venture in until we had made
sure of the position of the mines."
"Right," said Frank. "I can see that--"
"Look here," said Jack, "who's telling this story?"
"You are," said Frank hastily. "Go ahead."
"All right, but don't interrupt me. As I said, we'd been searching
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The Woman with a Stone Heart
A Romance of the Philippine War.
By
O. W. Coursey, (U. S. Vols.)
Author of
"History and Geography of the Philippine Islands."
"Who's Who In South Dakota."
"Biography of General Beadle."
"School Law Digest."
All of these books are published and for sale by
THE EDUCATOR SUPPLY COMPANY
Mitchell, South Dakota
Copyrighted 1914
By O. W. Coursey
THE WOMAN WITH A STONE HEART
INTRODUCTION
To those whose love of adventure would cause them to plunge head-long
into an abyss of vain glory, hoping at life's sunset to reap a
harvest contrary to the seed that were sown, let me suggest that
you pause first to read the story of "The Woman With a Stone Heart,"
Marie Sampalit, dare-devil of the Philippines.
Perhaps we might profitably meditate for a few moments on the musings
of Whittier:
"The tissue of the life to be
We weave in colors all our own,
And in the field of destiny
We'll reap as we have sown."
--The Author.
DEDICATION
To Her, who, as a bride of only eighteen months, stood broken-hearted
on the depot platform and bade me a tearful farewell as our train of
soldier boys started to war; who later, while I was Ten Thousand miles
away from home on soldier duty in the Philippine Islands, became a
Mother; and who, unfortunately, three months thereafter, was called
upon to lay our first-born, Oliver D. Coursey, into his snow-lined
baby tomb amid the bleak silence of a cold winter's night, with no
strong arm to bear her up in those awful hours of anguish and despair,
My Soldier Wife, Julia,
this book is most affectionately dedicated.
"Only a baby's grave,
Yet often we go and sit
By the little stone,
And thank God to own,
We are nearer heaven for it."
--O. W. Coursey.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Marie Sampalit 10
Region Around Manila Bay 29
Admiral Dewey 39
Aguinaldo 61
Marie, Her Mother, etc. 82
Filipinos at Breakfast 100
End of the Boat-Battle 113
The Rescue 126
Floating Down The Rapids 129
General Lawton and Staff 139
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapters: Page
I. Love Defeated 9
II. First Shot of A New War 25
III. Avenged Her Lover's Death 41
IV. The Interval 57
V. Filipino Uprising 69
VI. As A Spy 81
VII. Off For Baler 93
VIII. The Gilmore Incident 105
IX. The American Prisoners 113
X. Death of General Lawton 131
XI. North-bound 141
XII. Crossing the Sierra Madres 153
XIII. Compensation 167
CHAPTER I.
LOVE DEFEATED
Marie Sampalit and her fiancee, Rolando Dimiguez, were walking
arm-in-arm along the sandy beach of Manila bay, just opposite old
Fort Malate, talking of their wedding day which had been postponed
because of the Filipino insurrection which was in progress.
The tide was out. A long waved line of sea-shells and drift-wood
marked the place to which it had risen the last time before it began
to recede. They were unconsciously following this line of ocean
debris. Occasionally Marie would stop to pick up a spotted shell
which was more pretty than the rest. Finally, when they had gotten
as far north as the semi-circular drive-way which extends around
the southern and eastern sides of the walled-city, or Old Manila,
as it is called, and had begun to veer toward it, Marie looked back
and repeated a beautiful memory gem taught to her by a good friar
when she was a pupil in one of the parochial schools of Manila:
"E'en as the rise of the tide is told,
By drift-wood on the beach,
So can our pen mark on the page
How high our thoughts can reach."
They turned directly east until they reached the low stone-wall that
prevents Manila bay from overflowing the city during the periods
of high tides. Dimiguez helped Marie to step upon it; then they
strolled eastward past the large stake which marked the place where
the Spaniards had shot Dr.
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MANY GODS
OTHER BOOKS BY
CALE YOUNG RICE
Nirvana Days
Yolanda of Cyprus
Plays and Lyrics
A Night in Avignon
Charles di Tocca
David
MANY GODS
BY
CALE YOUNG RICE
NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
MCMX
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
PUBLISHED, FEBRUARY, 1910
TO
FINIS KING FARR
AN OLD
AND DEAR COMRADE
CONTENTS
PAGE
"ALL'S WELL" 3
THE PROSELYTE RECANTS 6
LOVE IN JAPAN 10
MAPLE LEAVES ON MIYAJIMA 13
TYPHOON 15
PENANG 17
WHEN THE WIND IS LOW 20
THE PAGODA SLAVE 22
THE SHIPS OF THE SEA 25
KINCHINJUNGA 26
THE BARREN WOMAN 29
BY THE TAJ MAHAL 32
LOVE'S CYNIC 35
IN A TROPICAL GARDEN 42
THE WIND'S WORD 46
THE SHRINE OF SHRINES 47
FROM A FELUCCA 48
THE EGYPTIAN WAKES 49
THE IMAM'S PARABLE 50
SONGS OF A SEA-FARER 52
A SONG OF THE SECTS 54
THE CITY 57
VIA AMOROSA 58
DUSK AT HIROSHIMA 60
THE WANDERER 61
IN A SHINTO TEMPLE GARDEN 64
FAR FUJIYAMA 65
ON MIYAJIMA MOUNTAIN 66
OLD AGE 68
ON THE YANG-TSE-KIANG 69
THE SEA-ARMIES 71
THE CHRISTIAN IN EXILE 73
THE PARSEE WOMAN 75
SHAH JEHAN TO MUMTAZ MAHAL 77
PRINCESS JEHANARA 79
A CINGHALESE LOVE LAMENT 80
ON THE ARABIAN GULF 83
THE RAMESSID 84
IMMORTAL FOES 85
THE CONSCRIPT 87
NAVIS IGNOTA 89
THE CROSS OF THE SEPULCHRE 91
THE NUN 92
ALPINE CHANT 94
THE MAN OF MIGHT 96
IN TIME OF AWE 97
SUNRISE IN UTAH 99
CONSOLATION 100
WAVES 102
VIS ULTIMA 104
MEREDITH 106
MANY GODS
"ALL'S WELL"
I
The illimitable leaping of the sea,
The mouthing of his madness to the moon,
The seething of his endless sorcery,
His prophecy no power can attune,
Swept over me as, on the sounding prow
Of a great ship that steered into the stars,
I stood and felt the awe upon my brow
Of death and destiny and all that mars.
II
The wind that blew from Cassiopeia cast
Wanly upon my ear a rune that rung;
The sailor in his eyrie on the mast
Sang an "All's well," that to the spirit clung
Like a lost voice from some aerial realm
Where ships sail on forever to no shore,
Where Time gives Immortality the helm,
And fades like a far phantom from life's door.
III
"And is all well, O Thou Unweariable
Launcher of worlds upon bewildered space,"
Rose in me, "All? or did thy hand grow dull
Building this world that bears a piteous race?
O was it launched too soon or launched too late?
Or can it be a derelict that drifts
Beyond thy ken toward some reef of Fate
On which Oblivion's sand forever shifts?"
IV
The sea grew softer as I questioned--calm
With mystery that like an answer moved,
And from infinity there fell a balm,
The old peace that God _is_, tho all unproved.
The old faith that tho gulfs sidereal stun
The soul, and knowledge drown within their deep,
There is no world that wanders, no not one
Of all the millions, that He does not keep.
THE PROSELYTE RECANTS
(_In Japan_)
Where the fair golden idols
Sit in darkness and in silence
While the temple drum beats solemnly and slow;
Where the tall cryptomerias
Sway
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Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by
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Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=emlLN6DE1I
(Harvard University)
2. This book was also published as "Aaron the Jew. A Novel," in
London by Hutchinson & Co. in 1895.
A Fair Jewess
BY
B. L. FARJEON,
_Author of "The Last Tenant" Etc_.
NEW YORK:
THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY.
Copyright, 1894, by
THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO.
_All rights reserved_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I. The Poor Doctor
II. Dr. Spenlove's Visitor
III. Dr. Spenlove Undertakes a Delicate Mission
IV. "One More Unfortunate"
V. "Come! We Will End It"
VI. The Friend in Need
VII. The Result of Dr. Spenlove's Mission
VIII. What was Put in the Iron Box
IX. Mr. Moss Plays his Part
X. The Vision in the Churchyard
XI. Mr. Whimpole Introduces Himself
XII. The Course of the Seasons
XIII. Aaron Cohen Preaches a Sermon on Large Noses
XIV. A Proclamation of War
XV. The Battle is Fought and Won
XVI. Joy and Sorrow
XVII. Divine Consolation
XVIII. In the New House
XIX. The Doctor Speaks Plainly to Aaron Cohen
XX. A Momentous Night
XXI. The Temptation
XXII. The Living and the Dead
XXIII. Plucked from the Jaws of Death
XXIV. The Curtain Falls
XXV. After Many Years
XXVI. The Foundation of Aaron's Fortune
XXVII. The Farewell
XXVIII. Revisits Gosport
XXIX. What Shall be Done to the Man whom the
King Delighteth to Honor?
XXX. The Honorable Percy Storndale
XXXI. The Spirit of the Dead Past
XXXII. Before All, Duty
XXXIII. A Cheerful Doctor
XXXIV. Ruth's Secret
XXXV. The Honorable Percy Storndale Makes an
Appeal
XXXVI. A Duty Performed
XXXVII. The Mother's Appeal
XXXVIII. A Mother's Joy
XXXIX. A Panic in the City
XL. "Can you Forgive me?"
XLI. A Poisoned Arrow
XLII. Retribution
A FAIR JEWESS.
CHAPTER I.
THE POOR DOCTOR.
On a bright, snowy night in December, some years ago, Dr. Spenlove,
having been employed all the afternoon and evening in paying farewell
visits to his patients, walked briskly toward his home through the
narrowest and most squalid thoroughfares in Portsmouth.
The animation of his movements may be set down to the severity of the
weather, and not to any inward cheerfulness of spirits, for as he
passed familiar landmarks he looked at them with a certain regret
which men devoid of sentiment would have pronounced an indication of a
weak nature. In this opinion, however, they would have been wrong, for
Dr. Spenlove's intended departure early the following morning from a
field which had strong claims upon his sympathies was dictated by a
law of inexorable necessity. He was a practitioner of considerable
skill, and he had conscientiously striven to achieve a reputation in
some measure commensurate with his abilities.
From a worldly point of view his efforts had been attended with
mortifying failure; he had not only been unsuccessful in earning a
bare livelihood, but he had completely exhausted the limited resources
with which he had started upon his career; he had, moreover, endured
severe privation, and an opening presenting itself in the wider field
of London he had accepted it with gladness and reluctance. With
gladness because he was an ambitious man, and had desires apart from
his profession; with reluctance because it pained him to bid farewell
to patients in whom he took a genuine interest, and whom he would have
liked to continue to befriend. He had, indeed, assisted many of them
to the full extent of his power, and in some instances had gone beyond
this limit, depriving himself of the necessaries of life to supply
them with medicines and nourishing food, and robbing his nights of
rest to minister to their woes. He bore about him
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MIKE
A PUBLIC SCHOOL STORY
BY
P. G. WODEHOUSE
CONTAINING TWELVE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
BY T. M. R. WHITWELL
LONDON
1909.
[Illustration (Frontispiece): "ARE YOU THE M. JACKSON THEN WHO HAD AN
AVERAGE OF FIFTY ONE POINT NOUGHT THREE LAST YEAR?"]
[Dedication]
TO
ALAN DURAND
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. MIKE
II. THE JOURNEY DOWN
III. MIKE FINDS A FRIENDLY NATIVE
IV. AT THE NETS
V. REVELRY BY NIGHT
VI. IN WHICH A TIGHT CORNER IS EVADED
VII. IN WHICH MIKE IS DISCUSSED
VIII. A ROW WITH THE TOWN
IX. BEFORE THE STORM
X. THE GREAT PICNIC
XI. THE CONCLUSION OF THE PICNIC
XII. MIKE GETS HIS CHANCE
XIII. THE M.C.C. MATCH
XIV. A SLIGHT IMBROGLIO
XV. MIKE CREATES A VACANCY
XVI. AN EXPERT EXAMINATION
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[Illustration: Singing and cheering wildly they carried her to the
other end of the gym.]
POLLY'S FIRST YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL
BY
DOROTHY WHITEHILL
ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES L. WRENN
PUBLISHERS
BARSE & CO.
NEW YORK, N. Y., NEWARK, N. J.
Copyright, 1916 By Barse & Co.
Polly's First Year at Boarding School
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I--THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
CHAPTER II--THE PAPER CHASE
CHAPTER III--THE WELCOME DANCE TO THE NEW GIRLS
CHAPTER IV--THE CHOOSING OF THE TEAMS
CHAPTER V--THE THANKSGIVING PARTY
CHAPTER VI--A RAINY DAY
CHAPTER VII--BETTY'S DUCKING
CHAPTER VIII--CUTTING THE LECTURE
CHAPTER IX--THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS
CHAPTER X--THE VALENTINE PARTY
CHAPTER XI--PRACTICING FOR THE INDOOR MEET
CHAPTER XII--POLLY'S HEROISM
CHAPTER XIII--BETTY'S IDEA
CHAPTER XIV--THE FRESHMEN ENTERTAIN
CHAPTER XV--VISITORS
CHAPTER XVI--GHOSTS
CHAPTER XVII--POLLY INTERVENES
CHAPTER XVIII--WANTED: A MASCOT
CHAPTER XIX--FIELD DAY
CHAPTER XX--THE MUSICAL
CHAPTER XXI--COMMENCEMENT DAY
CHAPTER I--THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
Seddon Hall, situated on top of one of the many hills that lined either
side of the Hudson River, was a scene of hubbub and confusion. It was
the 27th of September and the opening day of school. The girls who had
already arrived were walking arm in arm about the grounds, in the broad
assembly hall, and in the corridors, talking, laughing and discussing
the summer vacation, plans for the winter, the new girls, and a variety
of subjects with fine impartiality.
In the Senior reception room Mrs. Baird, principal of the school, and a
number of the faculty were receiving and assuring the mothers and
guardians of the girls.
Outside the carriages from the 5:04 train were winding up the steep hill
from the station. The girls were waving and calling hellos as they
passed one another, and on the broad piazza there was a quantity of suit
cases, and a good deal of kissing.
Polly Pendleton, seated beside her uncle in one of the last carriages,
was just the least little bit frightened. She had never seen quite so
many girls nor heard quite so much laughing and talking in all her
rather uneventful life.
Polly's real name was Marianna, but her heavy dark hair framed a face so
bright and full of fun, and her big brown eyes had so much impishness in
their depth, that to have called her by anything so long and dignified
seemed absurd, and so she had been Polly all her life.
Until two months before this story opens she had lived her thirteen
years in an old fashioned New England town with her aunt, Hannah
Pendleton, her father's eldest sister, and quite as severe as her name.
It had been a very unexciting existence--school every morning with the
village minister, and a patchwork "stint" every afternoon under the
direction of Aunt Hannah.
Polly was beginning to think every day was going to be just like every
other, when suddenly Aunt Hannah died and she came to New York to live
with Uncle Roddy. It had been a great change to leave the old house and
the village, but under Uncle Roddy's jolly companionship she soon ceased
to miss any part of her old life.
After what seemed an age, the carriage finally reached the top of the
hill, and Polly, holding tight to her uncle's arm, was shown into the
reception-room. She was finding it harder every minute to keep down the
unaccountable lump that had risen in her throat, when Mrs. Baird,
catching sight of them, held out a welcoming hand.
"How do you do, Mr. Pendleton?" she asked. "And is this Marianna? My
dear," she added, putting her hand on Polly's shoulder, "I hope you are
going to be very happy and contented with us."
It was perhaps the fiftieth time Mrs. Baird had made that same remark
that day, but Polly, looking into her kindly blue eyes, felt, as had
every other new girl at Seddon Hall, the complete understanding and
sympathy of the older woman, and felt, too, without knowing why, that
Mrs. Baird had had her first day at boarding-school.
Louise Preston, one of the Seniors, a slender girl of seventeen, with
heaps of taffy- hair, big blue eyes, and the sweetest and
jolliest smile, caught her principal's beckoning nod, and coming
forward, was presented. Mrs. Baird suggested that she take Polly and
show her to her room.
As the two girls mounted the broad staircase, Louise linked her arm in
Polly's in a big sisterly fashion, and began the conversation.
"This floor that we're coming to," she explained, "is Study Hall floor;
all those doors are classrooms. This is the Bridge of Sighs," she
continued, stopping before a covered passage which led from one building
to another.
"Why the Bridge of Sighs?" inquired Polly.
They were crossing it as she asked. When they reached the other side,
Louise solemnly pointed to a door on the left.
"That," she explained, "is Miss Hale's room. Miss Hale is the Latin
teacher, and when you know her, you'll understand
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GOING INTO SOCIETY
At one period of its reverses, the House fell into the occupation of a
Showman. He was found registered as its occupier, on the parish books of
the time when he rented the House, and there was therefore no need of any
clue to his name. But, he himself was less easy to be found; for, he had
led a wandering life, and settled people had lost sight of him, and
people who plumed themselves on being respectable were shy of admitting
that they had ever known anything of him. At last, among the marsh lands
near the river's level, that lie about Deptford and the neighbouring
market-gardens, a Grizzled Personage in velveteen, with a face so cut up
by varieties of weather that he looked as if he had been tattooed, was
found smoking a pipe at the door of a wooden house on wheels. The wooden
house was laid up in ordinary for the winter, near the mouth of a muddy
creek; and everything near it, the foggy river, the misty marshes, and
the steaming market-gardens, smoked in company with the grizzled man. In
the midst of this smoking party, the funnel-chimney of the wooden house
on wheels was not remiss, but took its pipe with the rest in a
companionable manner.
On being asked if it were he who had once rented the House to Let,
Grizzled Velveteen looked surprised, and said yes. Then his name was
Magsman? That was it, Toby Magsman--which lawfully christened Robert;
but called in the line, from a infant, Toby. There was nothing agin Toby
Magsman, he believed? If there was suspicion of such--mention it!
There was no suspicion of such, he might rest assured. But, some
inquiries were making about that House, and would he object to say why he
left it?
Not at all; why should he? He left it, along of a Dwarf.
Along of a Dwarf?
Mr. Magsman repeated, deliberately and emphatically, Along of a Dwarf.
Might it be compatible with Mr. Magsman's inclination and convenience to
enter, as a favour, into a few particulars?
Mr. Magsman entered into the following particulars.
It was a long time ago, to begin with;--afore lotteries and a deal more
was done away with. Mr. Magsman was looking about for a good pitch, and
he see that house, and he says to himself, "I'll have you, if you're to
be had. If money'll get you, I'll have you."
The neighbours cut up rough, and made complaints; but Mr. Magsman don't
know what they _would_ have had. It was a lovely thing. First of all,
there was the canvass, representin the picter of the Giant, in Spanish
trunks and a ruff, who was himself half the heighth of the house, and was
run up with a line and pulley to a pole on the roof, so that his Ed was
coeval with the parapet. Then, there was the canvass, representin the
picter of the Albina lady, showing her white air to the Army and Navy in
correct uniform. Then, there was the canvass, representin the picter of
the Wild Indian a scalpin a member of some foreign nation. Then, there
was the canvass, representin the picter of a child of a British Planter,
seized by two Boa Constrictors--not that _we_ never had no child, nor no
Constrictors neither. Similarly, there was the canvass, representin the
picter of the Wild Ass of the Prairies--not that _we_ never had no wild
asses, nor wouldn't have had 'em at a gift. Last, there was the canvass,
representin the picter of the Dwarf, and like him too (considerin), with
George the Fourth in such a state of astonishment at him as His Majesty
couldn't with his utmost politeness and stoutness express. The front of
the House was so covered with canvasses, that there wasn't a spark of
daylight ever visible on that side. "MAGSMAN'S AMUSEMENTS," fifteen foot
long by two foot high, ran over the front door and parlour winders
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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_
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.
_Lincoln
and the Sleeping Sentinel_
Illustration: LINCOLN.--From a painting by Howard Pyle
LINCOLN
AND
THE SLEEPING SENTINEL
THE TRUE STORY
TOLD BY
L. E. CHITTENDEN
REGISTER OF THE TREASURY, 1861-65
AND AUTHOR OF
“RECOLLECTIONS OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN
AND HIS ADMINISTRATION”
WITH PORTRAITS
Illustration: Publisher’s Seal
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
MCMIX
Copyright, 1909, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
Published January, 1909.
_Illustrations_
LINCOLN.--From a painting by Howard Pyle _Frontispiece_
LINCOLN IN 1857.--From a photograph in
the collection of Charles Carleton Coffin _Facing p._ 20
LINCOLN AND HIS SON THOMAS, KNOWN AS “TAD.”
--From a photograph by Brady ″ 28
LINCOLN.--From the statue by Augustus
St. Gaudens, at Lincoln Park, Chicago ″ 36
LINCOLN IN 1865.--From a photograph by Rice ″ 46
_Introduction_
Without any attempt at biographical details or an appreciation, a
few chief facts in Abraham Lincoln’s great career may be helpfully
recalled to the minds of readers. His ancestors were Quakers in Berks
County, Pennsylvania. His parents, born in Virginia, were influenced
by the current of migration across the Alleghanies, and were carried
first to Kentucky and afterward to Indiana.
It was in Hardin County, Kentucky, that Abraham Lincoln was born,
February 12, 1809, the child of these humble settlers. Compared
with the opportunities of the present-day boy, his chances seemed
desperate indeed. His attendance at a regular school covered hardly
more than a year. Nearly all the education which, among other gifts,
enriched him with such a mastery of the English tongue he acquired
painfully by himself. It was a question of necessities, of aiding to
wrest a livelihood from a new country that confronted the boy, and
so we find him at work, and at nineteen entering a larger world
of practical affairs by helping to guide a flat-boat down the
Mississippi to New Orleans. What he had to do was done so faithfully
that his employer promoted him to be a clerk, and gave him charge of
a store and mill at New Salem, Illinois.
The first public recognition of Lincoln’s character came in his
election as captain of a company in the war against Black Hawk and
his band of rebellious Indians in 1832. This was followed by his
appointment as postmaster at New Salem, Illinois, which gave him
better opportunities for study--opportunities so well improved
that he was admitted to practise as a lawyer in 1836. He began his
professional career at Springfield, Illinois. Law and politics were
almost inseparable, and as Lincoln rose in his profession, and became
noted for the shrewd common-sense and the dry humor of his speeches
at public meetings, he gained more and more prominence as a leading
member of the old Whig party in Illinois.
The next steps were natural ones--repeated elections to the
Legislature of Illinois, and then a nomination for Congress,
which led to his election in 1847. At Washington he made his mark
particularly as an opponent of slavery. Then followed, in 1858,
his selection as a candidate for the United States Senate against
Stephen A. Douglas, which involved a series of historic debates over
the slavery question. The popular voice was for Lincoln, but the
Legislature elected Douglas. From this contest Lincoln emerged with
a standing which finally brought to him the Republican nomination for
the presidency over William H. Seward in the stormy days of 1860.
Lincoln’s great career as the sixteenth President of the United
States, from 1861 to 1865, is not to be entered upon in this
outline of facts. His superhuman part in preserving
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THE
WITCHES OF NEW YORK,
AS ENCOUNTERED BY
Q. K. PHILANDER DOESTICKS, P. B.
NEW YORK: RUDD & CARLETON, 310 BROADWAY. MDCCCLIX.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by
RUDD & CARLETON,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
R. CRAIGHEAD,
Printer, Stereotyper, and Electrotyper,
Carton Building,
_81, 83, and 85 Centre Street_.
PREFACE.
What the Witches of New York City personally told me, Doesticks,
you will find written in this volume, without the slightest
exaggeration or perversion. I set out now with no intention of
misrepresenting anything that came under my observation in
collecting the material for this book, but with an honest desire
to tell the simple truth about the people I encountered, and the
prophecies I paid for.
So far from desiring to do any injustice to the Fortune Tellers
of the Metropolis, I sincerely hope that my labors may avail
something towards making their true deservings more widely
appreciated, and their fitting reward more full and speedy. I am
satisfied that so soon as their character is better understood,
and certain peculiar features of their business more thoroughly
comprehended by the public, they will meet with more attention
from the dignitaries of the land than has ever before been
vouchsafed them.
I thank the public for the flattering consideration paid to what
I have heretofore written, and respectfully submit that if they
would increase the obligation, perhaps the readiest way is to buy
and read the present volume.
THE AUTHOR.
_Sept. 20th, 1858._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. is simply Explanatory so far as regards the
book, but in it the author takes occasion to pay himself
several merited compliments on the score of honesty, ability,
&c., &c., &c. 15
CHAPTER II. is devoted to the glorification of Madame Prewster,
of No. 373 Bowery, the Pioneer Witch of New York. The "Individual"
also herein bears his testimony that she is oily and water-proof. 27
CHAPTER III. wherein are related divers strange things of Madame
Bruce, the "Mysterious Veiled Lady," of No. 513 Broome Street. 51
CHAPTER IV. Relates the marvellous performances of Madame
Widger, of No. 3 First Avenue, and how she looks into the
future through a paving-stone. 73
CHAPTER V. Discourses of Mrs. Pugh, of No. 102 South First
Street, Williamsburgh, and tells what that Nursing Sorceress
communicated to the Cash Customer. 99
CHAPTER VI. in which are narrated the wonderful workings of
Madame Morrow, the "Astonisher," of No. 76 Broome Street, and how
by a Crinolinic Stratagem the "Individual" got a sight of his
"Future Husband." 123
CHAPTER VII. contains a full account of the interview of the Cash
Customer with Doctor Wilson, the Astrologer, of No. 172 Delancey
Street. The Fates decree that he shall "pizon his first wife."
HOORAY! 147
CHAPTER VIII. gives a history of how Mrs. Hayes, the Clairvoyant,
of No. 176 Grand Street, does the Conjuring Trick. 169
CHAPTER IX. tells all about Mrs. Seymour, the Clairvoyant,
of No. 110 Spring Street, and what she had to say. 195
CHAPTER X. describes Madame Carzo, the "Brazilian Astrologist,"
and gives all the romantic adventures of the "Individual"
with the gay South American Maid. 215
CHAPTER XI. In which is set down the prophecy of Madame
Leander Lent, of No. 163 Mulberry Street; and how she
promised her customer numerous wives and children. 239
CHAPTER XII. Wherein are described all the particulars of a
visit to the "Gipsy Girl," of No. 207 Third Avenue; with
an allusion to Gin, and other luxuries dear to the heart of
that beautiful Rover. 261
CHAPTER XIII. contains a true account of the Magic Establishment
of Mrs. Fleury, of No. 263 Broome Street; and also shows the
exact amount of Witchcraft that snuffy personage can afford for
one dollar. 281
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THE ROAD-BUILDERS
[Illustration: The M M Co]
[Illustration: "'there,' he cried,... 'there, boys! that means
red hills or bust.'" _Frontispiece_]
The Road-Builders
BY
SAMUEL MERWIN
AUTHOR OF "THE MERRY ANNE," JOINT AUTHOR OF
"CALUMET 'K,'" "THE SHORT LINE WAR," ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
F. B. MASTERS
TORONTO
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
1910
COPYRIGHT, 1905,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1905. Reprinted
April, 1906.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
_TO MY LITTLE SON_
NOTE
A part of this story was printed serially in _The Saturday
Evening Post_ under the title, "A Link in the Girdle."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. YOUNG VAN ENGAGES A COOK 1
II. WHERE THE MONEY CAME FROM 22
III. AT MR. CARHART'S CAMP 37
IV. JACK FLAGG SEES STARS 66
V. WHAT THEY FOUND AT THE WATER-HOLE 97
VI. THE ROAD TO TOTAL WRECK 138
VII. THE SPIRIT OF THE JOB 185
VIII. SHOTS--AND A SCOUTING PARTY 219
IX. A SHOW-DOWN 246
X.
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BEES IN AMBER
A LITTLE BOOK OF THOUGHTFUL VERSE
BY JOHN OXENHAM
1913
TO THOSE I HOLD DEAREST
THIS OF MY BEST.
CONTENTS
CREDO
NEW YEAR'S DAY AND EVERYDAY
PHILOSOPHER'S GARDEN
FLOWERS OF THE DUST
THE PILGRIM WAY
EVERYMAID
BETTER AND BEST
THE SHADOW
THE POTTER
NIGHTFALL
THE PRUNER
THE WAYS
SEEDS
WHIRRING WHEELS
THE BELLS OF YS
THE LITTLE POEM OF LIFE
CUP OF MIXTURE
WEAVERS ALL
THE CLEARER VISION
SHADOWS
THE INN OF LIFE
LIFE'S CHEQUER-BOARD
CROSS-ROADS
QUO VADIS?
TAMATE
BURDEN-BEARERS
THE IRON FLAIL
SARK
E.A.
THE PASSING OF THE QUEEN
THE GOLDEN CORD
THANK GOD FOR PEACE!
GOD'S HANDWRITING
STEPHEN--SAUL
PAUL
WAKENING
MACEDONIA, 1903
HEARTS IN EXILE
WANDERED
BIDE A WEE!
THE WORD THAT WAS LEFT UNSAID
DON'T WORRY!
THE GOLDEN ROSE
GADARA, A.D. 31
THE BELLS OF STEPAN ILINE
BOLT THAT DOOR!
GIANT CIRCUMSTANCE
THE HUNGRY SEA
WE THANK THEE, LORD
THE VAIL
NO EAST OR WEST
THE DAY--THE WAY
LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FRATERNITY
FREEMEN
THE LONG ROAD
THE CHRIST
THE BALLAD OF LOST SOULS
PROFIT AND LOSS
FREE MEN OF GOD
TREASURE-TROVE
THE GATE
BRING US THE LIGHT
ALL'S WELL!
HIS MERCY ENDURETH FOR EVER
GOD IS GOOD
SOME--AND SOME
THE PRINCE OF LIFE
JUDGMENT DAY
DARKNESS AND LIGHT
INDIA
LIVINGSTONE
LIVINGSTONE THE BUILDER
LIVINGSTONE'S SOLILOQUY
KAPIOLANI
THEY COME!
PROCESSIONALS
FAITH
"I WILL!"
A LITTLE TE DEUM OF THE COMMONPLACE
POLICEMAN X
YOUR PLACE
IN NARROW WAYS
SHUT WINDOWS
PROPS
BED-ROCK
AFTER WORK
KAPIOLANI IN RAROTONGAN
AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
In these rushful days an apology is advisable, if not absolutely
essential, from any man, save the one or two elect, who has the temerity
to publish a volume of verse.
These stray lines, such as they are, have come to me from time to time,
I hardly know how or whence; certainly not of deliberate intention or of
malice aforethought. More often than not they have come to the
interruption of other, as it seemed to me, more important--and
undoubtedly more profitable--work.
They are for the most part, simply attempts at concrete and
rememberable expression of ideas--ages old most of them--which "asked
for more."
Most writers, I imagine, find themselves at times in that same
predicament--worried by some thought which dances within them and
stubbornly refuses to be satisfied with the sober dress of prose. For
their own satisfaction and relief, in such a case, if they be not fools
they endeavour to garb it more to its liking, and so find peace. Or, to
vary the metaphor, they pluck the Bee out of their Bonnet and pop it
into such amber as they happen to have about them or are able to
evolve, and so put an end to its buzzing.
In their previous states these little Bonnet-Bees of mine have
apparently given pleasure to quite a number of intelligent and
thoughtful folk; and now--chiefly, I am bound to say, for my own
satisfaction in seeing them all together--I have gathered
them into one bunch.
If they please you--good! If not, there is no harm done, and one man is
content.
JOHN OXENHAM
CREDO
Not what, but WHOM, I do believe,
That, in my darkest hour of need,
Hath comfort that no mortal creed
To mortal man may give;--
Not what, but WHOM!
For Christ is more than all the creeds,
And His full life of gentle deeds
Shall all the creeds outlive.
Not what I do believe, but WHOM!
WHO walks beside me in the gloom?
WHO shares the burden wearisome?
WHO all the dim way doth illume,
And bids me look beyond the tomb
The larger life to live?--
Not what I do believe,
BUT WHOM!
Not what,
But WHOM!
NEW YEAR'S DAY--AND EVERY DAY
_Each man is Captain of his Soul,
And each man his own Crew,
But the Pilot knows the Unknown Seas,
And He will bring us through_.
We break new seas to-day,--
Our eager keels quest unaccustomed waters,
And, from the vast uncharted waste in front,
The mystic circles leap
To greet our prows with mightiest possibilities;
Bringing us--what?
--Dread shoals and shifting banks?
--And calms and storms?
--And clouds and biting gales?
--And wreck and loss?
--And valiant fighting-times?
And, maybe, Death!--and so, the Larger Life!
_For should the Pilot deem it best
To cut the voyage short,
He sees beyond the sky-line, and
He'll bring us into Port_.
And, maybe, Life,--Life on a bounding tide,
And chance of glorious deeds;--
Of help swift-born to drowning mariners;
Of cheer to ships dismasted in the gale;
Of succours given unasked and joyfully;
Of mighty service to all needy souls.
_So--Ho for the Pilot's orders,
Whatever course He makes!
For He sees beyond the sky-line,
And He never makes mistakes_.
And, maybe, Golden Days,
Full freighted with delight!
--And wide free seas of unimagined bliss,
--And Treasure Isles, and Kingdoms to be won,
--And Undiscovered Countries, and New Kin.
_For each man captains his own Soul,
And chooses his own Crew,
But the Pilot knows
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Ingersoll Lectures on Immortality
IMMORTALITY AND THE NEW THEODICY. By George A. Gordon. 1896.
HUMAN IMMORTALITY. Two supposed Objections to the Doctrine. By
William James. 1897.
DIONYSOS AND IMMORTALITY: The Greek Faith in Immortality as
affected by the rise of Individualism. By Benjamin Ide Wheeler.
1898.
THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY. By Josiah Royce. 1899.
LIFE EVERLASTING. By John Fiske. 1900.
SCIENCE AND IMMORTALITY. By William Osler. 1904.
THE ENDLESS LIFE. By Samuel M. Crothers. 1905.
INDIVIDUALITY AND IMMORTALITY. By Wilhelm Ostwald. 1906.
THE HOPE OF IMMORTALITY. By Charles F. Dole. 1907.
BUDDHISM AND IMMORTALITY. By William S. Bigelow. 1908.
IS IMMORTALITY DESIRABLE? By G. Lowes Dickinson. 1909.
EGYPTIAN CONCEPTIONS OF IMMORTALITY. By George A. Reisner. 1911.
INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY IN THE SONNETS OF SHAKESPEARE. By George
H. Palmer. 1912.
METEMPSYCHOSIS. By George Foot Moore. 1914.
PAGAN IDEAS OF IMMORTALITY DURING THE EARLY ROMAN EMPIRE. By
Clifford Herschel Moore. 1918.
PAGAN IDEAS OF
IMMORTALITY DURING THE
EARLY ROMAN EMPIRE
The Ingersoll Lecture, 1918
Pagan Ideas of
Immortality During the
Early Roman Empire
By
Clifford Herschel Moore, Ph.D., Litt.D.
_Professor of Latin in Harvard University_
[Illustration: colophon]
Cambridge
Harvard University Press
London: Humphrey Milford
Oxford University Press
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918
HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS
THE INGERSOLL LECTURESHIP
_Extract from the will of Miss Caroline Haskell Ingersoll, who died in
Keene, County of Cheshire, New Hampshire, Jan. 26, 1893_
_First._ In carrying out the wishes of my late beloved father, George
Goldthwait Ingersoll, as declared by him in his last will and testament,
I give and bequeath to Harvard University in Cambridge, Mass., where my
late father was graduated, and which he always held in love and honor,
the sum of Five thousand dollars ($5,000) as a fund for the
establishment of a Lectureship on a plan somewhat similar to that of the
Dudleian lecture, that is--one lecture to be delivered each year, on any
convenient day between the last day of May and the first day of
December, on this subject, “the Immortality of Man,” said lecture not to
form a part of the usual college course, nor to be delivered by any
Professor or Tutor as part of his usual routine of instruction, though
any such Professor or Tutor may be appointed to such service. The choice
of said lecturer is not to be limited to any one religious denomination,
nor to any one profession, but may be that of either clergyman or
layman, the appointment to take place at least six months before the
delivery of said lecture. The above sum to be safely invested and three
fourths of the annual interest thereof to be paid to the lecturer for
his services and the remaining fourth to be expended in the publishment
and gratuitous distribution of the lecture, a copy of which is always to
be furnished by the lecturer for such purpose. The same lecture to be
named and known as “the Ingersoll lecture on the Immortality of Man.”
PAGAN IDEAS OF IMMORTALITY DURING THE EARLY ROMAN EMPIRE
I
The invitation of the committee charged with the administration of the
Ingersoll lectureship and my own inclination have agreed in indicating
that aspect of the general subject of immortality, which I shall try to
present tonight. I shall not venture on this occasion to advance
arguments for or against belief in a life after death; my present task
is a humbler one: I propose to ask you to review with me some of the
more significant ideas concerning an existence beyond the grave, which
were current in the Greco-Roman world in the time of Jesus and during
the earlier Christian centuries, and to consider briefly the relation
of these pagan beliefs to Christian ideas on the same subject. In
dealing with a topic so vast
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generously made available by The Internet Archive)
HOMER MARTIN
A REMINISCENCE
[Illustration: HOMER MARTIN
From a photograph taken in England in 1892]
HOMER MARTIN
A REMINISCENCE
[Illustration]
OCTOBER 28, 1836—FEBRUARY 12, 1897
NEW YORK
WILLIAM MACBETH
1904
Copyright, 1904, by WILLIAM MACBETH
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
PORTRAIT OF HOMER MARTIN _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
NORMANDY TREES 6
THE DUNES 12
ON THE HUDSON 18
BLOSSOMING TREES 24
THE HAUNTED HOUSE 28
THE CRIQUEBŒUF CHURCH 32
GOLDEN SANDS 36
ON THE SEINE (“HARP OF THE WINDS”) 40
TREES NEAR VILLERVILLE 46
CAPE TRINITY 52
A NEWPORT LANDSCAPE 56
The publisher cordially thanks the friends who kindly lent the pictures
which have been reproduced to illustrate these pages.
INTRODUCTION
During the last year I have more than once been told that an
authoritative biographical sketch of my husband ought to be written
and I have never felt inclined to dispute the statement as an abstract
proposition. But when it is followed by the direct question: “Who so
capable of writing it as you?” the names of one or two of his personal
friends inevitably present themselves as belonging to practised writers
and connoisseurs of art, who might, perhaps, need the aid of dates or
facts I could supply, but who, in more essential respects, would be
altogether better equipped for the task. Homer Martin was so intensely
masculine, so preëminently a man’s man, that he must necessarily have
escaped thorough comprehension by any woman. And this, I think, is the
chief reason why I have so long delayed, why I am even now inclined to
shirk altogether, the fulfilment of my reluctant promise to put on paper
some of my memories of the years we spent together.
The question made me smile when it was propounded more than a year ago,
but since then it has often made me ponder. Doubtless no one else has had
so long and intimate an acquaintance with various phases of his character
and circumstances; doubtless, too, it was not merely as an artist that
he commanded attention and attracted life-long friends. Yet I suppose
it must be solely in this character that he appeals to the majority of
those who are now attaining to a tardy appreciation of his achievement
as a whole. It is not in my power to hasten that. When I first met him
my ignorance of art—at any rate on its pictorial side—was dense; and
if it has been somewhat mitigated since, that result is due solely to
him and largely to his own works. Is not this tantamount to expressing
my conviction that those who wish to increase their knowledge of Homer
Martin as an artist can do so much more satisfactorily by studying the
landscapes into which he has put as much of his best self as any man
could part with and live, than by reading anything I find it possible to
say about him? Aspects of external nature are inextricably blended in
these with the mind, moods, and personality of the painter. Years before
he had quite succeeded in mastering his material, I remember the late
John Richard Dennett saying of them: “Martin’s landscapes look as if no
one but God and himself had ever seen the places.” There is an austerity,
a remoteness, a certain savagery in even the sunniest and most peaceful
of them, which were also in him, and an instinctive perception of which
had made me say to him in the very earliest days of our acquaintance that
he reminded me of Ishmael. They formed, I think, the substratum of his
personality. Needless to add, for those who knew him even slightly, that
he had other phases. Though the human verb in him was one and singular,
its moods were many.
ELIZABETH GILBERT MARTIN.
A REMINISCENCE
[Illustration]
A REMINISCENCE
Homer Dodge Martin, fourth child and youngest son of Homer Martin and
Sarah Dodge, was born in Albany, N. Y., in a house on Park Street,
October 28, 1836. That was my own native city, but although we must
have lived for years in the same neighborhood, he was past twenty-two
and I in my twenty-first year when we first became
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THE STORY OF AN AFRICAN FARM
by (AKA Ralph Iron) Olive Schreiner
Preface.
I have to thank cordially the public and my critics for the reception
they have given this little book.
Dealing with a subject that is far removed from the round of English
daily life, it of necessity lacks the charm that hangs about the ideal
representation of familiar things, and its reception has therefore been
the more kindly.
A word of explanation is necessary. Two strangers appear on the scene,
and some have fancied that in the second they have again the first, who
returns in a new guise. Why this should be we cannot tell; unless there
is a feeling that a man should not appear upon the scene, and then
disappear, leaving behind him no more substantial trace than a mere
book; that he should return later on as husband or lover, to fill some
more important part than that of the mere stimulator of thought.
Human life may be painted according to two methods. There is the stage
method. According to that each character is duly marshalled at
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AMERICA, VOL. II (OF 8)***
E-text prepared by Giovanni Fini, Dianna Adair, Bryan Ness, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(https://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file
which includes the more than 300 original illustrations.
See 50883-h.htm or 50883-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/50883/50883-h/50883-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/50883/50883-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/narrcrithistamerica02winsrich
Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
A carat character is used to denote superscription. A
single character following the carat is superscripted
(example: XV^e). Multiple superscripted characters are
enclosed by curly brackets (example: novam^{te}).
Spanish Explorations and Settlements in America
from the Fifteenth to the Seventeenth Century
[Illustration]
NARRATIVE AND CRITICAL HISTORY OF AMERICA
Edited by
JUSTIN WINSOR
Librarian of Harvard University
Corresponding Secretary Massachusetts Historical Society
VOL. II
Boston and New York
Houghton, Mifflin and Company
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
Copyright, 1886,
by Houghton, Mifflin and Company.
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
[_The Spanish arms on the title are copied from the titlepage of
Herrera._]
INTRODUCTION. PAGE
DOCUMENTARY SOURCES OF EARLY SPANISH-AMERICAN HISTORY. _The
Editor_ i
CHAPTER I.
COLUMBUS AND HIS DISCOVERIES. _The Editor_ 1
ILLUSTRATIONS: Columbus’ Armor, 4; Parting of Columbus with
Ferdinand and Isabella, 6; Early Vessels, 7; Building a Ship,
8; Course of Columbus on his First Voyage, 9; Ship of Columbus’
Time, 10; Native House in Hispaniola, 11; Curing the Sick,
11; The Triumph of Columbus, 12; Columbus at Hispaniola, 13;
Handwriting of Columbus, 14; Arms of Columbus, 15; Fruit-trees
of Hispaniola, 16; Indian Club, 16; Indian Canoe, 17, 17;
Columbus at Isla Margarita, 18; Early Americans, 19; House in
which Columbus died, 23.
CRITICAL ESSAY 24
ILLUSTRATIONS: Ptolemy, 26, 27; Albertus Magnus, 29; Marco
Polo, 30; Columbus’ Annotations on the _Imago Mundi_, 31; on
Æneas Sylvius, 32; the Atlantic of the Ancients, 37; Prince
Henry the Navigator, 39; his Autograph, 39; Sketch-map of
Portuguese Discoveries in Africa, 40; Portuguese Map of the Old
World (1490), 41; Vasco da Gama and his Autograph, 42; Line of
Demarcation (Map of 1527), 43; Pope Alexander VI., 44.
NOTES 46
A, First Voyage, 46; B, Landfall, 52; C, Effect of the
Discovery in Europe, 56; D, Second Voyage, 57; E, Third Voyage,
58; F, Fourth Voyage, 59; G, Lives and Notices of Columbus,
62; H, Portraits of Columbus, 69; I, Burial and Remains of
Columbus, 78; J, Birth of Columbus, and Accounts of his Family,
83.
ILLUSTRATIONS: Fac-simile of first page of Columbus’ Letter,
No. III., 49; Cut on reverse of Title of Nos. V. and VI., 50;
Title of No. VI., 51; The Landing of Columbus, 52; Cut in
German Translation of the First Letter, 53; Text of the German
Translation, 54; the Bahama Group (map), 55; Sign-manuals
of Ferdinand and Isabella, 56; Sebastian Brant, 59; Map of
Columbus’ Four Voyages, 60, 61; Fac-simile of page in the
Glustiniani Psalter, 63; Ferdinand Columbus’ Register of Books,
65; Autograph of Humboldt,
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THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST
By H. Rider Haggard
First Published 1894.
DEDICATION
I DEDICATE THIS EFFORT OF
"PRIMEVAL AND TROGLODYTE IMAGINATION"
THIS RECORD OF BAREFACED AND FLAGRANT ADVENTURE
TO MY GODSONS
IN THE HOPE THAT THEREIN THEY MAY FIND
SOME STORE OF HEALTHY AMUSEMENT.
_Ditchingham_, 1894.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
On several previous occasions it has happened to this writer of romance
to be justified of his romances by facts of startling similarity,
subsequently brought to light and to his knowledge. In this tale occurs
an instance of the sort, a "double-barrelled" instance indeed, that to
him seems sufficiently curious to be worthy of telling. The People of
the Mist of his adventure story worship a sacred crocodile to which they
make sacrifice, but in the original draft of the book this crocodile was
a snake--_monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens_. A friend of the writer,
an African explorer of great experience who read that draft, suggested
that the snake was altogether too unprecedented and impossible.
Accordingly, also at his suggestion, a crocodile was substituted.
Scarcely was this change effected, however, when Mr. R. T. Coryndon, the
slayer of almost the last white rhinoceros, published in the _African
Review_ of February 17, 1894, an account of a huge and terrific serpent
said to exist in the Dichwi district of Mashonaland, that in many
particulars resembled the snake of the story, whose prototype, by the
way, really lives and is adored as a divinity by certain natives in the
remote province of Chiapas in Mexico. Still, the tale being in type, the
alteration was suffered to stand. But now, if the _Zoutpansberg Review_
may be believed, the author can take credit for his crocodile also,
since that paper states that in the course of the recent campaign
against Malaboch, a chief living in the north of the Transvaal, his
fetish or god was captured, and that god, a crocodile fashioned in wood,
to which offerings were made. Further, this journal says that among
these people (as with the ancient Egyptians), the worship of the
crocodile is a recognised cult. Also it congratulates the present writer
on his intimate acquaintance with the more secret manifestations of
African folklore and beast worship. He must disclaim the compliment in
this instance as, when engaged in inventing the 'People of the Mist,'
he was totally ignorant that any of the Bantu tribes reverenced either
snake or crocodile divinities. But the coincidence is strange, and once
more shows, if further examples of the fact are needed, how impotent
are the efforts of imagination to vie with hidden truths--even with the
hidden truths of this small and trodden world.
_September_ 20, 1894.
THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST
CHAPTER I
THE SINS OF THE FATHER ARE VISITED ON THE CHILDREN
The January afternoon was passing into night, the air was cold and
still, so still that not a single twig of the naked beech-trees stirred;
on the grass of the meadows lay a thin white rime, half frost, half
snow; the firs stood out blackly against a steel-hued sky, and over the
tallest of them hung a single star. Past these bordering firs there ran
a road, on which, in this evening of the opening of our story, a young
man stood irresolute, glancing now to the right and now to the left.
To his right were two stately gates of iron fantastically wrought,
supported by stone pillars on whose summits stood griffins of black
marble embracing coats of arms, and banners inscribed with the device
_Per ardua ad astra_. Beyond these gates ran a broad carriage drive,
lined on either side by a double row of such oaks as England alone can
produce under the most favourable circumstances of soil, aided by the
nurturing hand of man and three or four centuries of time.
At the head of this avenue, perhaps half a mile from the roadway,
although it looked nearer because of the eminence upon which it was
placed, stood a mansion of the class that in auctioneers' advertisements
is usually described as "noble." Its general appearance was Elizabethan,
for in those days some forgotten Outram had practically rebuilt it; but
a large part of its fabric was far more ancient than the Tudors,
dating back, so said tradition, to the time of King John. As we are
not auctioneers, however, it will be unnecessary to specify its many
beauties; indeed, at this date, some of the tribe had recently employed
their gift of language on these attractions with copious fulness and
accuracy of detail, since Outram Hall, for
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[Illustration: FRANK WAS LIFTED BY MAIN FORCE AND PLACED IN IT.--_Page
228._]
THE BOY AVIATORS'
FLIGHT FOR A FORTUNE
BY
CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON
AUTHOR OF "THE BOY AVIATORS,"
"DREADNOUGHT BOYS," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY_
_CHARLES L. WRENN_
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1912,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. On Brig Island 5
II. The Wireless 22
III. A Night Alarm 36
IV. Cut Adrift 45
V. Adventures on the Hulk 56
VI. Harry Meets an Old Friend 66
VII. A Puzzling Problem 80
VIII. The Derelict Destroyer 89
IX. The Flight of the "Sea Eagle" 97
X. "C. Q. D.!" 112
XI. "Good Luck!" 121
XII. Through the Night 129
XIII. A Twentieth-Century Rescue 137
XIV. Ben's Plan Stolen 148
XV. What Happened Ashore 158
XVI. Off on the "Air Route" 170
XVII. An Aerial Ambulance 180
XVIII. An Errand of Mercy 189
XIX. Plumbo Found Wanting 199
XX. Frank's Battle 209
XXI. A Rascally Trick 219
XXII. Reunited! 230
XXIII. Off Once More 237
XXIV. A Struggle for Life 246
XXV. A Race to Cloudland 253
XXVI. The Boy Aviators' Pluck 264
XXVII. Captured by Aeroplane 275
THE BOY AVIATORS' FLIGHT FOR A FORTUNE
CHAPTER I.--ON BRIG ISLAND.
The sharp bow of Zenas Daniels' green and red dory grazed the yellow
beach on the west shore of Brig Island, a wooded patch of land lying
about a mile off the Maine Shore in the vicinity of Casco Bay. His son
Zeb, a lumbering, uncouth-looking lad of about eighteen, with a
pronounced squint, leaped from the craft as it was beached, and seized
hold of the frayed painter preparatory to dragging her farther up the
beach.
In the meantime Zenas himself, brown and hatchetlike of face, and lean
of figure--with a tuft of gray whisker on his sharp chin, like an
old-fashioned knocker on a mahogany door--gathered up a pile of lobster
pots from the stern of the dory and shouldered them. A few lay loose,
and those he flung out on the beach.
These last Zeb gathered up, and as his
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THE DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS M.A. F.R.S.
CLERK OF THE ACTS AND SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY
TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SHORTHAND MANUSCRIPT IN THE PEPYSIAN LIBRARY
MAGDALENE COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE BY THE REV. MYNORS BRIGHT M.A. LATE FELLOW
AND PRESIDENT OF THE COLLEGE
(Unabridged)
WITH LORD BRAYBROOKE'S NOTES
1964
By Samuel Pepys
Edited With Additions By
Henry B. Wheatley F.S.A.
LONDON
GEORGE BELL & SONS YORK ST. COVENT GARDEN
CAMBRIDGE DEIGHTON BELL & CO.
1893
JANUARY 1663-1664
January 1st, Went to bed between 4 and 5 in the morning with my mind
in good temper of satisfaction and slept till about 8, that many people
came to speak with me. Among others one came with the best New Year's
gift that ever I had, namely from Mr. Deering, with a bill of exchange
drawn upon himself for the payment of L50 to Mr. Luellin. It being for
my use with a letter of compliment. I am not resolved what or how to do
in this business, but I conclude it is an extraordinary good new year's
gift, though I do not take the whole, or if I do then give some of it to
Luellin. By and by comes Captain Allen and his son Jowles and his wife,
who continues pretty still. They would have had me set my hand to a
certificate for his loyalty, and I know not what his ability for any
employment. But I did not think it fit, but did give them a pleasing
denial, and after sitting with me an hour they went away. Several others
came to me about business, and then being to dine at my uncle Wight's
I went to the Coffee-house, sending my wife by Will, and there staid
talking an hour with Coll. Middleton, and others, and among other things
about a very rich widow, young and handsome, of one Sir Nicholas Gold's,
a merchant, lately fallen, and of great courtiers that already look
after her: her husband not dead a week yet. She is reckoned worth
L80,000. Thence to my uncle Wight's, where Dr. of-----, among others,
dined, and his wife, a seeming proud conceited woman, I know not what to
make of her, but the Dr's. discourse did please me very well about the
disease of the stone, above all things extolling Turpentine, which he
told me how it may be taken in pills with great ease. There was brought
to table a hot pie made of a swan I sent them yesterday, given me by Mr.
Howe, but we did not eat any of it. But my wife and I rose from table,
pretending business, and went to the Duke's house, the first play I have
been at these six months, according to my last vowe, and here saw the
so much cried-up play of "Henry the Eighth;" which, though I went with
resolution to like it, is so simple a thing made up of a great many
patches, that, besides the shows and processions in it, there is nothing
in the world good or well done. Thence mightily dissatisfied back at
night to my uncle Wight's, and supped with them, but against my stomach
out of the offence the sight of my aunt's hands gives me, and ending
supper with a mighty laugh, the greatest I have had these many months,
at my uncle's being out in his grace after meat, we rose and broke up,
and my wife and I home and to bed, being sleepy since last night.
2nd. Up and to the office, and there sitting all the morning, and at
noon to the 'Change, in my going met with Luellin and told him how I had
received a letter and bill for L50 from Mr. Deering, and delivered it
to him, which he told me he would receive for me. To which I consented,
though professed not to desire it if he do not consider himself
sufficiently able by the service I have done, and that it is rather my
desire to have nothing till he be further sensible of my service. From
the 'Change I brought him home and dined with us, and after dinner I
took my wife out, for I do find that I am not able to conquer myself as
to going to plays till I come to some new vowe concerning it, and that I
am now come, that is to say, that I will not see above one in a month
at any of the publique theatres till the sum of 50s. be spent, and then
none before New Year's Day next, unless that I do become worth L1000
sooner than then, and then am free to come to some other terms, and so
leaving him in Lombard Street I took her to the King's house, and there
met Mr. Nicholson, my old colleague, and saw "The Usurper
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by the Library of Congress)
[Illustration:
VOL.I. NO.1.
GARDEN AND FOREST
.A.JOURNAL.OF.HORTICULTURE..LANDSCAPE.ART.AND.FORESTRY.
.FEBRUARY.29, 1888.]
PRICE TEN CENTS.]
Copyright, 1888, by THE GARDEN AND FOREST PUBLISHING COMPANY, LIMITED.
[$4.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE.]
IMPORTANT NEW BOOKS.
I.
By WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS.
APRIL HOPES. A Novel. By WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50.
_Mr. Howells never wrote a more bewitching book. It is useless to deny
the rarity and worth of the skill that can report so perfectly and
with such exquisite humor the manifold emotions of the modern maiden
and her lover._--Philadelphia Press.
MODERN ITALIAN POETS. Essays and Versions. By WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS.
Author of "April Hopes," &c. With Portraits. 12mo, Half Cloth, Uncut
Edges and Gilt Tops, $2 00.
_A portfolio of delightsome studies.... No acute and penetrating
critic surpasses Mr. Howells in true insight, in polished irony, in
effective and yet graceful treatment of his theme, in that light and
indescribable touch that fixes your eye on the true heart and soul of
the theme._--Critic, _N. Y._
II.
CONCLUSION OF KINGLAKE'S CRIMEAN WAR.
KINGLAKE'S CRIMEAN WAR. The Invasion of the Crimea: its Origin, and an
account of its Progress down to the Death of Lord Raglan. By ALEXANDER
WILLIAM KINGLAKE. With Maps and Plans. Five Volumes now ready. 12mo,
Cloth, $2 00 per vol.
Vol. V. From the Morrow of Inkerman to the Fall of Canrobert; _just
published_.--Vol. VI. From the Rise of Pelissier to the Death of Lord
Raglan--completing the work--_nearly ready_.
_The charm of Mr. Kinglake's style, the wonderful beauty of his
pictures, the subtle irony of his reflections, have made him so long
a favorite and companion, that it is with unfeigned regret we read the
word "farewell" with which these volumes close._--Pall Mall Gazette,
_London._
III.
T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
WHAT I REMEMBER. By T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE. With Portrait. 12mo, Cloth,
$1 75.
_The most delightful pot-pourri that we could desire of the time just
anterior to our own.... Mr. Trollope preserves for us delightful,
racy stories of his youth and the youth of his century, and gives us
glimpses of loved or worshipped faces banished before our time. Hence
the success of these written remembrances._--Academy, _London._
IV.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "SELF-HELP."
LIFE AND LABOR; or, Characteristics of Men of Industry, Culture, and
Genius. By SAMUEL SMILES, LL.D., Author of "Self-Help," &c. 12mo,
Cloth, $1 00.
_Commends itself to the entire confidence of readers. Dr. Smiles
writes nothing that is not fresh, strong, and magnetically bracing.
He is one of the most helpful authors of the Victorian era.... This is
just the book for young men._--N. Y. Journal of Commerce.
V.
THOMAS W. HIGGINSON'S NEW BOOK.
WOMEN AND MEN. By THOMAS W. HIGGINSON, Author of "A Larger History of
the United States," &c. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00.
_These essays are replete with common-sense ideas, expressed in
well-chosen language, and reflect on every page the humor, wit, wisdom
of the author._--N. Y. Sun.
VI.
Plain, sensible, sturdy advice.--Chicago News.
BIG WAGES, AND HOW TO EARN THEM. By A FOREMAN. 16mo, Cloth, 75 cents.
_The views of an intelligent observer upon some of the foremost social
topics of the day. The style is simple, the logic cogent, and the tone
moderate and sensible._--N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.
VII.
The standard authority upon the Inquisition.--Philadelphia Ledger.
HISTORY OF THE INQUISITION OF THE MIDDLE AGES. By HENRY CHARLES LEA.
To be completed in THREE VOLUMES. 8vo, Cloth, Uncut Edges and Gilt
Tops, $3 00 per
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Produced by Eve Sobol. HTML version by Al Haines.
THE DEVIL'S DISCIPLE
Bernard Shaw
ACT I
At the most wretched hour between a black night and a wintry morning in
the year 1777, Mrs. Dudgeon, of New Hampshire, is sitting up in the
kitchen and general dwelling room of her farm house on the outskirts of
the town of Websterbridge. She is not a prepossessing woman. No woman
looks her best after sitting up all night; and Mrs. Dudgeon's face,
even at its best, is grimly trenched by the channels into which the
barren forms and observances of a dead Puritanism can pen a bitter
temper and a fierce pride. She is an elderly matron who has worked hard
and got nothing by it except dominion and detestation in her sordid
home, and an unquestioned reputation for piety and respectability among
her neighbors, to whom drink and debauchery are still so much more
tempting than religion and rectitude, that they conceive goodness
simply as self-denial. This conception is easily extended to
others--denial, and finally generalized as covering anything
disagreeable. So Mrs. Dudgeon, being exceedingly disagreeable, is held
to be exceedingly good. Short of flat felony, she enjoys complete
license except for amiable weaknesses of any sort, and is consequently,
without knowing it, the most licentious woman in the parish on the
strength of never having broken the seventh commandment or missed a
Sunday at the Presbyterian church.
The year 1777 is the one in which the passions roused of the breaking
off of the American colonies from England, more by their own weight
than their own will, boiled up to shooting point, the shooting being
idealized to the English mind as suppression of rebellion and
maintenance of British dominion, and to the American as defence of
liberty, resistance to tyranny, and selfsacrifice on the altar of the
Rights of Man. Into the merits of these idealizations it is not here
necessary to inquire: suffice it to say, without prejudice, that they
have convinced both Americans and English that the most high minded
course for them to pursue is to kill as many of one another as
possible, and that military operations to that end are in full swing,
morally supported by confident requests from the clergy of both sides
for the blessing of God on their arms.
Under such circumstances many other women besides this disagreeable
Mrs. Dudgeon find themselves sitting up all night waiting for news.
Like her, too, they fall asleep towards morning at the risk of nodding
themselves into the kitchen fire. Mrs. Dudgeon sleeps with a shawl over
her head, and her feet on a broad fender of iron laths, the step of the
domestic altar of the fireplace, with its huge hobs and boiler, and its
hinged arm above the smoky mantel-shelf for roasting. The plain kitchen
table is opposite the fire, at her elbow, with a candle on it in a tin
sconce. Her chair, like all the others in the room, is uncushioned and
unpainted; but as it has a round railed back and a seat conventionally
moulded to the sitter's curves, it is comparatively a chair of state.
The room has three doors, one on the same side as the fireplace, near
the corner, leading to the best bedroom; one, at the opposite end of
the opposite wall, leading to the scullery and washhouse; and the house
door, with its latch, heavy lock, and clumsy wooden bar, in the front
wall, between the window in its middle and the corner next the bedroom
door. Between the door and the window a rack of pegs suggests to the
deductive observer that the men of the house are all away, as there are
no hats or coats on them. On the other side of the window the clock
hangs on a nail, with its white wooden dial, black iron weights, and
brass pendulum. Between the clock and the corner, a big cupboard,
locked, stands on a dwarf dresser full of common crockery.
On the side opposite the fireplace, between the door and the corner, a
shamelessly ugly black horsehair sofa stands against the wall. An
inspection of its stridulous surface shows that Mrs. Dudgeon is not
alone. A girl of sixteen or seventeen has fallen asleep on it. She is a
wild, timid looking creature with black hair and tanned skin. Her
frock, a scanty garment, is rent, weatherstained, berrystained, and by
no means scrupulously clean. It hangs on her with a freedom which,
taken with her brown legs and bare feet, suggests no great stock of
underclothing.
Suddenly there comes a tapping at the door, not loud enough to wake the
sleepers. Then knocking, which disturbs Mrs. Dudgeon a little. Finally
the latch is tried,
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