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Produced by Turgut Dincer, Stephen Hutcheson, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: CATHARINE DE BORA,
_WIFE OF LUTHER_.]
CATHARINE DE BORA;
OR,
Social and Domestic
SCENES IN THE
HOME OF LUTHER.
BY
JOHN G. MORRIS,
TRANSLATOR OF “THE BLIND GIRL OF WITTENBERG,” AND PASTOR OF THE FIRST
LUTHERAN CHURCH OF BALTIMORE.
PHILADELPHIA:
LINDSAY & BLAKISTON.
1856.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by
LINDSAY & BLAKISTON,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAN PRINTED BY C. SHERMAN & SON.
CONTENTS.
Page
CHAPTER I.
Clerical Celibacy—Luther—Bernhardi’s Marriage—Treatment of
Catharine De Bora—the Convent—Wealthy Nuns—Convent
Life—the Escape—Treatment of the Nuns—Florentine de
Oberweimer—Leonard Koppe—Luther’s Defence 9
CHAPTER II.
Luther’s Reflections—Example of the Apostles—Celibacy—Gregory
VII.—Luther’s Change of Mind—Luther’s Marriage—Character
of Catharine 27
CHAPTER III.
Wedding-Dinner—Melanchthon—Slanders 43
CHAPTER IV.
Luther’s Domestic Life—Character of Catharine—Perils of
Luther—Sickness—Death of his Parents—Private
Life—Catharine 52
CHAPTER V.
Income—Expenses—Hospitality—Charity—Diet—Afflictions—
Despondency—Journeys—Death 70
CHAPTER VI.
Catharine, a Widow—Her Support—Sufferings—Journeys—Death 84
CHAPTER VII.
Luther’s Children—Domestic Character—Catharine 94
CHAPTER VIII.
Character of Catharine 120
PREFACE.
There are many interesting and characteristic incidents in the domestic
life of Luther which are not found in biographies of the great Reformer.
The character of his wife has not been portrayed in full, and who does
not wish to become better acquainted with a woman who mingled many a
drop of balsam in those numerous cups of sorrow which her celebrated
husband was compelled to drink?
This little book is the result of extensive research, and exhibits facts
attested by the most reliable authorities, many of which will be new to
those of my readers who have not investigated this particular subject.
J. G. M.
Baltimore, June, 1856.
LUTHER AT HOME.
CHAPTER I.
Clerical Celibacy—Luther-Bernhardi’s Marriage—Treatment of Catharine
de Bora—the Convent—Wealthy Nuns—Convent Life—the Escape—Treatment of
the Nuns—Florentine de Oberweimer—Leonard Koppe—Luther’s Defence.
The celibacy of the clergy was one of the strongest pillars on which the
proud edifice of Romish power rested. It was a stupendous partition-wall
which separated the clergy from all other interests, and thus
consolidated the wide-spread authority of the Pope. It cut off the
secular clergy, as well as the monks, from all domestic ties. They
forgot father, mother, and friends. Political obligations to their
sovereign and country were disregarded, but the cord which bound them to
the interests of Rome was only the more tightly drawn.
Superior purity was the presumed ground of the system, but a total
surrender of all rights, and complete submission to the will of the
Pope, were its legitimate results. He was regarded as the only parent of
the clergy—the only sovereign to whom they owed allegiance—the only
protector in whom they were to confide, and, as dutiful sons, obedient
subjects, and grateful beneficiaries, they were obliged to exert
themselves
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Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
BROMIDE PRINTING AND ENLARGING
A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO THE MAKING OF BROMIDE PRINTS BY CONTACT AND BROMIDE
ENLARGING BY DAYLIGHT AND ARTIFICIAL LIGHT, WITH THE TONING OF BROMIDE
PRINTS AND ENLARGEMENTS
TENNANT AND WARD
NEW YORK
Copyright 1912 by
TENNANT AND WARD, NEW YORK
CONTENTS
Chapter I
VARIETIES OF BROMIDE PAPERS AND HOW TO CHOOSE AMONG THEM
Chapter II
THE QUESTION OF LIGHT AND ILLUMINATION
Chapter III
MAKING CONTACT PRINTS ON BROMIDE PAPER; PAPER NEGATIVES
Chapter IV
ENLARGING BY DAYLIGHT METHODS
Chapter V
ENLARGING BY ARTIFICIAL LIGHT
Chapter VI
DODGING, VIGNETTING, COMPOSITE PRINTING AND THE USE OF BOLTING SILK
Chapter VII
THE REDUCTION AND TONING OF BROMIDE PRINTS AND ENLARGEMENTS
CHAPTER I
VARIETIES OF BROMIDE PAPERS AND HOW TO CHOOSE AMONG THEM
What is bromide paper? It is simply paper coated with gelatino-bromide of
silver emulsion, similar to that which, when coated on glass or other
transparent support, forms the familiar dry-plate or film used in
negative-making. The emulsion used in making bromide paper, however, is
less rapid (less sensitive) than that used in the manufacture of plates or
films of ordinary rapidity; hence bromide paper may be manipulated with
more abundant light than would be safe with plates. It is used for making
prints by contact with a negative in the ordinary printing frame, and as
the simplest means for obtaining enlarged prints from small negatives.
Sometimes bromide paper is spoken of as a development paper, because the
picture-image does not print out during exposure, but requires to be
developed, as in negative-making. The preparation of the paper is beyond
the skill and equipment of the average photographer, but it may be readily
obtained from dealers in photographic supplies.
What are the practical advantages of bromide paper? In the first place, it
renders the photographer independent of daylight and weather as far as
making prints is concerned. It has excellent "keeping" qualities, _i.e._,
it does not spoil or deteriorate as readily as other printing papers, even
when stored without special care or precaution. Its manipulation is
extremely simple, and closely resembles the development of a negative. It
does not require a special sort of negative, but is adapted to give good
prints from negatives widely different in quality. It is obtainable in any
desired size, and with a great variety of surfaces, from extreme gloss to
that of rough drawing paper. It offers great latitude in exposure and
development, and yields, even in the hands of the novice, a greater
percentage of good prints than any other printing paper in the market. It
offers a range of tone from deepest black to the most delicate of
platinotype grays, which may be modified to give a fair variety of color
effects where this is desirable. It affords a simple means of making
enlargements without the necessity of an enlarged negative. It gives us a
ready means of producing many prints in a very short time, or, if desired,
we may make a proof or enlargement from the negative fresh from the
washing tray. And, finally, if we do our work faithfully and well, it will
give us permanent prints.
The bromide papers available in this country at present are confined to
those of the Eastman Kodak Company, the Defender Photo Supply Company and
J. L. Lewis, the last handling English papers only. Better papers could
not be desired. Broadly speaking, all bromide papers are made in a few
well-defined varieties; in considering the manipulation of the papers made
by a single firm, therefore, we practically cover all the papers in the
market. As a matter of convenience, then, we will glance over the
different varieties of bromide paper available, as represented by the
Eastman papers, with the understanding that what is said of any one
variety is generally applicable to papers of the same sort put out by
other manufacturers.
First we have the _Standard_ or ordinary bromide paper made for general
use. This comes in five different weights: _A_, a thin paper with smooth
surface, useful where detail is desirable; _B_, a heavier paper with
smooth surface, for large prints or for illustration purposes; and _C_, a
still heavier paper with a rough surface for broad effects and prints of
large size. _BB_, heavy smooth double weight; _CC_, heavy, rough, double
weight. Each of these varieties may be had in two grades, according to the
negative in hand or the effect desired in the print, viz.: _hard_, for use
with soft negatives where we desire to get vigor or contrast in the
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Produced by Patricia C. Franks, Lisa Carter, Danette Dulny,
Charles Duvall, Cheri Ripley, and Cheryl Sullivan
BIRDS AND BEES
SHARP EYES
AND OTHER PAPERS
By John Burroughs
With An Introduction
By Mary E. Burt
And A Biographical Sketch
CONTENTS
Biographical Sketch
Introduction By Mary E. Burt
Birds
Bird Enemies
The Tragedies of the Nests
Bees
An Idyl of the Honey-Bee
The Pastoral Bees
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.
Nature chose the spring of the year for the time of John Burroughs's
birth. A little before the day when the wake-robin shows itself, that
the observer might be on hand for the sight, he was born in Roxbury,
Delaware County, New York, on the western borders of the Catskill
Mountains; the precise date was April 3, 1837. Until 1863 he remained
in the country about his native place, working on his father's farm,
getting his schooling in the district school and neighboring academies,
and taking his turn also as teacher. As he himself has hinted, the
originality, freshness, and wholesomeness of his writings are probably
due in great measure to the unliterary surroundings of his early life,
which allowed his mind to form itself on unconventional lines, and to
the later companionships with unlettered men, which kept him in touch
with the sturdy simplicities of life.
From the very beginnings of his taste for literature, the essay was his
favorite form. Dr. Johnson was the prophet of his youth, but he soon
transferred his allegiance to Emerson, who for many years remained his
"master enchanter." To cure himself of too close an imitation of
the Concord seer, which showed itself in his first magazine article,
Expression, he took to writing his sketches of nature, and about this
time he fell in with the writings of Thoreau, which doubtless confirmed
and encouraged him in this direction. But of all authors and of all men,
Walt Whitman, in his personality and as a literary force, seems to have
made the profoundest impression upon Mr. Burroughs, though doubtless
Emerson had a greater influence on his style of writing.
Expression appeared in The Atlantic Monthly in 1860, and most of his
contributions to literature have been in the form of papers first
published in the magazines, and afterwards collected into books. He more
than once paid tribute to his teachers in literature. His first book,
now out of print, was Notes on Walt Whitman, as Poet and Person,
published in 1867; and Whitman: A Study, which appeared in 1896, is a
more extended treatment of the man and his poetry and philosophy. Birds
and Poets, too, contains a paper on Whitman, entitled The Flight of the
Eagle, besides an essay on Emerson, whom he also treated incidentally in
his paper, Matthew Arnold on Emerson and Carlyle, in Indoor Studies; and
the latter volume contains his essay on Thoreau.
In the autumn of 1863 he went to Washington, and in the following
January entered the Treasury Department. He was for some years an
assistant in the office of the Comptroller of the Currency, and later
chief of the organization division of that Bureau. For some time he was
keeper of one of the vaults, and for a great part of the day his only
duty was to be at his desk. In these leisure hours his mind traveled off
into the country, where his previous life had been spent, and with the
help of his pen, always a faithful friend and magician, he lived over
again those happy days, now happier still with the glamour of all
past pleasures. In this way he wrote Wake-Robin and a part of Winter
Sunshine. It must not be supposed, however, that he was deprived of
outdoor pleasures while at Washington. On the contrary, he enjoyed many
walks in the suburbs of the capital, and in those days the real country
came up to the very edges of the city. His Spring at the Capital, Winter
Sunshine, A March Chronicle, and other papers bear the fruit of his life
on the Potomac. He went to England in 1871 on business for the Treasury
Department, and again on his own account a dozen years later. The record
of the two visits is to be found mainly in his chapters on An October
Abroad, contained in the volume Winter Sunshine, and in the papers
gathered into the volume Fresh Fields.
He resigned his place in the Treasury in 1873, and was appointed
receiver of a broken national bank. Later, until 1885, his business
occupation was that of a National Bank Examiner. An article contributed
by him to The Century Magazine for March, 1881, on Broken Banks and Lax
Directors, is perhaps the only literary outcome of this occupation, but
the keen powers of observation, trained in the field of nature, could
not fail to disclose themselves in analyzing columns of figures. After
le
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Produced by a Project Gutenberg volunteer from digital
material generously made available by the Internet Archive
ACROSS THE EQUATOR.
[Frontispiece: TEMPLE, PARAMBANAN.]
ACROSS THE
EQUATOR.
A HOLIDAY
TRIP IN JAVA.
BY
THOS. H. REID.
KELLY & WALSH, LIMITED,
SINGAPORE--SHANGHAI--HONGKONG--YOKOHAMA.
1908.
[all rights reserved.]
PREFACE.
It was at the end of the month of September, 1907, that the writer
visited Java with the object of spending a brief vacation there.
The outcome was a series of articles in the "Straits Times," and after
they appeared so many applications were made for reprints that we were
encouraged to issue the articles in handy form for the information of
those who intend to visit the neighbouring Dutch Colony. There was no
pretension to write an exhaustive guide-book to the Island, but the
original articles were revised and amplified, and the chapters have
been arranged to enable the visitor to follow a given route through the
Island, from west to east, within the compass of a fortnight or three
weeks.
For liberty to reproduce some of the larger pictures, we are indebted
to Mr. George P. Lewis (of O. Kurkdjian), Sourabaya, whose photographs
of Tosari and the volcanic region of Eastern Java form one of the
finest and most artistic collections we have seen of landscape work.
SINGAPORE, _July, 1908_.
CONTENTS.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF BATAVIA 1
THE BRITISH IN JAVA 15
BOTANIST'S PARADISE AT BUITENZORG 23
ON THE ROAD TO SINDANGLAYA 33
SINDANGLAYA AND BEYOND 42
HINDU RUINS IN CENTRAL JAVA 49
THE TEMPLES OF PARAMBANAN 58
PEOPLE AND INDUSTRIES OF CENTRAL JAVA 65
THE HEALTH RESORT OF EAST JAVA 73
SUNRISE AT THE PENANDJAAN PASS 77
HOTELS AND TRAVELLING FACILITIES 87
First Impressions of Batavia.
When consideration is given to the fact that Java is only two days'
steaming from Singapore, that it is more beautiful in some respects than
Japan, that it contains marvellous archaeological remains over 1,100
years old, and that its hill resorts form ideal resting places for the
jaded European, it is strange that few of the British residents
throughout the Far East, or travellers East and West, have visited the
Dutch Colony.
The average Britisher, weaving the web of empire, passes like a shuttle
in the loom from London to Yokohama, from Hongkong to Marseilles. He
thinks imperially in that he thinks no other nation has Colonies worth
seeing. British port succeeds British port on the hackneyed line of
travel, and he may be excused if he forgets that these convenient
calling places, these links of Empire, can have possible rivals under
foreign flags.
There is no excuse for the prevailing ignorance of the Netherland
Indies. We do not wish it to be inferred that we imagine we have
discovered Java, as Dickens is said to have discovered Italy, but we
believe we are justified in saying that few have realised the
possibilities of Java as a health resort and the attractions it has to
offer for a holiday.
Miss Marianne North, celebrated as painter and authoress and the rival
of Miss Mary Kingsley and Mrs. Bishop (Isabella Bird) as a traveller in
unfrequented quarters of the globe, has described the island as one
magnificent garden, surpassing Brazil, Jamaica and other countries
visited by her, and possessing the grandest of volcanoes; and other
famous travellers have written in terms of the highest praise of its
natural beauties.
Its accessibility is one of its recommendations to the holiday maker.
The voyage across the Equator from Singapore is a smooth one, for the
most part through narrow straits and seldom out of sight of islands clad
with verdure down to the water's edge.
Excellent accommodation is provided by the Rival Dutch Mail steamers
running between Europe and Java and the Royal Packet Company's local
steamers, and the Government of the Netherland Indies co-operates with a
recently-formed Association for the encouragement of tourist traffic on
the lines of the Welcome Society in Japan. This Association has a
bureau, temporarily established in the Hotel des Indes in Batavia, to
provide information and travelling facilities for tourists, not only
throughout Java, but amongst the various islands that are being brought
under the sway of civilised government by the Dutch Colonial forces.
As our steamer pounded her way out of Singapore Harbour in the early
morning, islands appeared to spring out of the sea, and seascape after
seascape followed in rapid succession, suggesting the old-fashioned
panoramic pictures of childhood's acquaintance. One's idea of scenery,
after all, is more or less a matter of comparison. One passenger
compares the scene with the Kyles of Bute; another with the Inland Sea
of Japan, at the other end of the world. Yet, this tropical waterway is
unlike either, and has a characteristic individuality of its own, none
the less charming because of the comparisons it suggests and the
associations it recalls.
We spent a good deal of our time on the bridge with the Captain, who was
courteous enough to point out all the leading points on his chart.
The Sultanate of Rhio lies on the port bow, four hours' sail from
Singapore. Glimpses of Sumatra are obtained on the starboard, and on the
way the steamer passes near to the Island of Banka, reputed to contain
the richest tin deposits in the world. This tin
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Produced by Alan Light
BALLADS OF A BOHEMIAN
By Robert W. Service
[British-born Canadian Poet--1874-1958.]
Author of "The Spell of the Yukon", "Ballads of a Cheechako",
"Rhymes of a Red Cross Man", etc.
CONTENTS
Prelude
BOOK ONE
SPRING
I
My Garret
Julot the _Apache_
II
_L'Escargot D'Or_
It Is Later Than You Think
Noctambule
III
Insomnia
Moon Song
The Sewing-Girl
IV
Lucille
On the Boulevard
Facility
V
Golden Days
The Joy of Little Things
The Absinthe Drinkers
BOOK TWO
EARLY SUMMER
I
The Release
The Wee Shop
The Philistine and the Bohemian
II
The Bohemian Dreams
A Domestic Tragedy
The Pencil Seller
III
Fi-Fi in Bed
Gods in the Gutter
The Death of Marie Toro
IV
The Bohemian
The Auction Sale
The Joy of Being Poor
V
My Neighbors
Room 4: The Painter Chap
Room 6: The Little Workgirl
Room 5: The Concert Singer
Room 7: The Coco-Fiend
BOOK THREE
LATE SUMMER
I
The Philanderer
The _Petit Vieux_
My Masterpiece
My Book
My Hour
II
A Song of Sixty-Five
Teddy Bear
The Outlaw
The Walkers
III
Poor Peter
The Wistful One
If You Had a Friend
The Contented Man
The Spirit of the Unborn Babe
IV
Finistere
Old David Smail
The Wonderer
Oh, It Is Good
V
I Have Some Friends
The Quest
The Comforter
The Other One
Catastrophe
BOOK FOUR
WINTER
I
Priscilla
A Casualty
The Blood-Red _Fourragere_
Jim
II
Kelly of the Legion
The Three Tommies
The Twa Jocks
III
His Boys
The Booby-Trap
Bonehead Bill
IV
A Lapse of Time and a Word of Explanation
Michael
The Wife
Victory Stuff
Was It You?
V
_Les Grands Mutiles_
The Sightless Man
The Legless Man
The Faceless Man
L'Envoi
BALLADS OF A BOHEMIAN
Prelude
Alas! upon some starry height,
The Gods of Excellence to please,
This hand of mine will never smite
The Harp of High Serenities.
Mere minstrel of the street am I,
To whom a careless coin you fling;
But who, beneath the bitter sky,
Blue-lipped, yet insolent of eye,
Can shrill a song of Spring;
A song of merry mansard days,
The cheery chimney-tops among;
Of rolics and of roundelays
When we were young... when we were young;
A song of love and lilac nights,
Of wit, of wisdom and of wine;
Of Folly whirling on the Heights,
Of hunger and of hope divine;
Of Blanche, Suzette and Celestine,
And all that gay and tender band
Who shared with us the fat, the lean,
The hazard of Illusion-land;
When scores of Philistines we slew
As mightily with brush and pen
We sought to make the world anew,
And scorned the gods of other men;
When we were fools divinely wise,
Who held it rapturous to strive;
When Art was sacred in our eyes,
And it was Heav'n to be alive....
O days of glamor, glory, truth,
To you to-night I raise my glass;
O freehold of immortal youth,
Bohemia, the lost, alas!
O laughing lads who led the romp,
Respectable you've grown, I'm told;
Your heads you bow to power and pomp,
You've learned to know the worth of gold.
O merry maids who shared our cheer,
Your eyes are dim, your locks are gray;
And as you scrub I sadly fear
Your daughters speed the dance to-day.
O windmill land and crescent moon!
O Columbine and Pierrette!
To you my old guitar I tune
Ere I forget, ere I forget....
So come, good men who toil and tire,
Who smoke and sip the kindly cup,
Ring round about the tavern fire
Ere yet you drink your liquor up;
And hear my simple songs of earth,
Of youth and truth and living things;
Of poverty and proper mirth,
Of rags and rich imaginings;
Of cock-a-hoop, blue-heavened days,
Of hearts elate and eager breath,
Of wonder, worship, pity, praise,
Of sorrow, sacrifice and death;
Of lusting, laughter, passion, pain,
Of lights that lure and dreams that thrall...
And if a golden word I gain,
Oh, kindly folks, God save you all!
And if you shake your heads in blame...
Good friends, God love you all the same.
BOOK ONE ~~ SPRING
I
Montparnasse,
April 1914.
All day the sun has shone into my little attic, a bitter sunshine that
brightened yet did not warm. And so as I toiled and toiled doggedly
enough, many were the looks I cast at the three <DW19>s I had saved to
cook my evening meal. Now, however, my supper is over, my pipe alight,
and as I stretch my legs before the embers I have at last a glow of
comfort, a glimpse of peace.
My Garret
Here is my Garret up five flights of stairs;
Here's where I deal in dreams and ply in fancies,
Here is the wonder-shop of all my wares,
My sounding sonnets and my red romances.
Here's where I challenge Fate and ring my rhymes,
And grope at glory--aye, and starve at times.
Here is my Stronghold: stout of heart am I,
Greeting each dawn as songful as a linnet;
And when at night on yon poor bed I lie
(Blessing the world and every soul that's in it),
Here's where I thank the Lord no shadow bars
My skylight's vision of the valiant stars.
Here is my Palace tapestried with dreams.
Ah! though to-night ten _sous_ are all my treasure,
While in my gaze immortal beauty gleams,
Am I not dowered with wealth beyond all measure?
Though in my ragged coat my songs I sing,
King of my soul, I envy not the king.
Here is my Haven: it's so quiet here;
Only the scratch of pen, the candle's flutter;
Shabby and bare and small, but O how dear!
Mark you--my table with my work a-clutter,
My shelf of tattered books along the wall,
My bed, my broken chair--that's nearly all.
Only four faded walls, yet mine, all mine.
Oh, you fine folks, a pauper scorns your pity.
Look, where above me stars of rapture shine;
See, where below me gleams the siren city...
Am I not rich?--a millionaire no less,
If wealth be told in terms of Happiness.
Ten _sous_.... I think one can sing best of poverty when one is
holding it at arm's length. I'm sure that when I wrote these lines,
fortune had for a moment tweaked me by the nose. To-night, however, I
am truly down to ten _sous_. It is for that I have stayed in my room
all day, rolled in my blankets and clutching my pen with clammy fingers.
I must work, work, work. I must finish my book before poverty crushes
me. I am not only writing for my living but for my life. Even to-day my
Muse was mutinous. For hours and hours anxiously I stared at a paper
that was blank; nervously I paced up and down my garret; bitterly I
flung myself on my bed. Then suddenly it all came. Line after line I
wrote with hardly a halt. So I made another of my Ballads of the
Boulevards. Here it is:
Julot the _Apache_
You've heard of Julot the _apache_, and Gigolette, his _mome_....
Montmartre was their hunting-ground, but Belville was their home.
A little chap just like a boy, with smudgy black mustache,--
Yet there was nothing juvenile in Julot the _apache_.
From head to heel as tough as steel, as nimble as a cat,
With every trick of twist and kick, a master of _savate_.
And Gigolette was tall and fair, as stupid as a cow,
With three combs in the greasy hair she banged upon her brow.
You'd see her on the Place Pigalle on any afternoon,
A primitive and strapping wench as brazen as the moon.
And yet there is a tale that's told of Clichy after dark,
And two _gendarmes_ who swung their arms with Julot for a mark.
And oh, but they'd have got him too; they banged and blazed away,
When like a flash a woman leapt between them and their prey.
She took the medicine meant for him; she came down with a crash...
"Quick now, and make your get-away, O Julot the _apache_!"...
But no! He turned, ran swiftly back, his arms around her met;
They nabbed him sobbing like a kid, and kissing Gigolette.
Now I'm a reckless painter chap who loves a jamboree,
And one night in Cyrano's bar I got upon a spree;
And there were trollops all about, and crooks of every kind,
But though the place was reeling round I didn't seem to mind.
Till down I sank, and all was blank when in the bleary dawn
I woke up in my studio to find--my money gone;
Three hundred francs I'd scraped and squeezed to pay my quarter's rent.
"Some one has pinched my wad," I wailed; "it never has been spent."
And as I racked my brains to seek how I could raise some more,
Before my cruel landlord kicked me cowering from the door:
A knock... "Come in," I gruffly groaned; I did not raise my head,
Then lo! I heard a husky voice, a swift and silky tread:
"You got so blind, last night, _mon vieux_, I collared all your cash--
Three hundred francs.... There! _Nom de Dieu_," said Julot the _apache_.
And that was how I came to know Julot and Gigolette,
And we would talk and drink a _bock_, and smoke a cigarette.
And I would meditate upon
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Produced by Shaun Pinder, Moti Ben-Ari and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
LAYS AND LEGENDS
OF THE
ENGLISH LAKE COUNTRY.
LAYS AND LEGENDS
OF THE
ENGLISH LAKE COUNTRY.
_WITH COPIOUS NOTES._
BY
JOHN PAGEN WHITE, F.R.C.S.
"In early date,
When I was beardless, young, and blate,
E'en then a wish, I mind its power,
A wish that to my latest hour
Shall strongly heave my breast;
That I for poor auld _Cumbria's_ sake,
Some usefu' plan or beuk could make,
Or sing a sang at least."
LONDON: JOHN RUSSELL SMITH.
CARLISLE: G. & T. COWARD.
MDCCCLXXIII.
INTRODUCTION.
In submitting this Book to the Public, I have thought it best to
give it precisely as it was left in manuscript by my late Brother.
His sudden death in 1868 prevented the final revision which he still
contemplated.
The Notes may by some be thought unnecessarily long, and in many
instances they undoubtedly are very discursive. Much labour, however,
was expended in their composition, in the hope, not merely of giving
a new interest to localities and incidents already familiar to the
resident, but also of affording the numerous visitors to the charming
region which forms the theme of the Volume, an amount of information
supplementary to the mere outline which, only, it is the province of a
Guide Book, however excellent, to supply.
The Work occupied for years the leisure hours of a busy professional
life; and the feelings with which the Author entered upon and continued
it, are best expressed in those lines of Burns chosen by himself for
the motto.
B. J.
_July 1st, 1873._
PREFACE.
The English Lake District may be said, in general terms, to extend from
Cross-Fell and the Solway Firth, on the east and north, to the waters
of Morecambe and the Irish Sea; or, more accurately, to be comprised
within an irregular circle, varying from forty to fifty miles in
diameter, of which the centre is the mountain Helvellyn, and within
which are included a great portion of Cumberland and Westmorland and
the northern extremity of Lancashire.
After the conquest of England by the Normans, the counties of
Cumberland and Westmorland, the ancient inheritance of the Scottish
Kings, as well as the county of Northumberland, were placed by William
under the English crown. But the regions thus alienated were not
allowed to remain in the undisturbed possession of the strangers. For
a long period they were disquieted by the attempts which from time to
time were made by successive kings of Scotland to re-establish their
supremacy over them. Supporting their pretensions by force of arms,
they carried war into the disputed territory, and conducted it with a
rancour and cruelty which spared neither age or sex. The two nations
maintained their cause, just or unjust, with unfaltering resolution;
or if they seemed to hesitate for a moment, and a period of settlement
to be at hand, their frequent compromises only ended in a renewal of
their differences. Thus these northern counties continued to pass
alternately under the rule of both the contending nations, until the
Scottish dominion over them was finally terminated by agreement in the
year 1237; Alexander of Scotland accepting in lieu lands of a certain
yearly value, to be holden of the King of England by the annual render
of a falcon to the Constable of the Castle of Carlisle, on the Festival
of the Assumption.
The resumption, at no distant period, of the manors which had been
granted to Alexander, renewed in all their strength the feelings of
animosity with which the Scots had been accustomed to regard their
southern neighbours, and the feuds between the two kingdoms continued
with unabated violence for more than three centuries longer. The
dwellers in the unsettled districts lying along the English and
Scottish borders, being originally derived from the same Celtic stock,
had been gradually and progressively influenced as a race by the
admixture of Saxon and Danish blood into the population; and although
much of the Celtic character was thereby lost, they seem to have
retained in their mountains and forests much of the spirit, and many
of the laws and manners, of the ancient Britons. They continued to
form themselves into various septs, or clans, according to the Celtic
custom; sometimes banded together for the attainment of a common
end; and as often at feud, one clan with another, when some act of
personal wrong had to be revenged upon a neighbouring community. Thus
a state of continual restlessness, springing out of mutual
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E-text prepared by Anne Soulard, Charles Aldarondo,
Tiffany Vergon, John R. Bilderback,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.
THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS
by
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
First published in serial form in the _Fortnightly Review_ from July,
1871, to February, 1873, and in book form in 1872
CONTENTS
I. Lizzie Greystock
II. Lady Eustace
III. Lucy Morris
IV. Frank Greystock
V. The Eustace Necklace
VI. Lady Linlithgow's Mission
VII. Mr. Burke's Speeches
VIII. The Conquering Hero Comes
IX. Showing What the Miss Fawns Said, and What Mrs. Hittaway
Thought
X. Lizzie and Her Lover
XI. Lord Fawn at His Office
XII. "I Only Thought of It"
XIII. Showing What Frank Greystock Did
XIV. "Doan't Thou Marry for Munny"
XV. "I'll Give You a Hundred Guinea Brooch"
XVI. Certainly an Heirloom
XVII. The Diamonds Are Seen in Public
XVIII. "And I Have Nothing to Give"
XIX. "As My Brother"
XX. The Diamonds Become Troublesome
XXI. "Ianthe's Soul"
XXII. Lady Eustace Procures a Pony for the Use of Her Cousin
XXIII. Frank Greystock's First Visit to Portray
XXIV. Showing What Frank Greystock Thought About Marriage
XXV. Mr. Dove's Opinion
XXVI. Mr. Gowran Is
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Produced by Peter Vachuska, Turgut Dincer, Chuck Greif and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
+---------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's note: |
| |
| Words in bold characters are enclosed within "+" signs. |
| The list of Putnam Science Series has been moved to the |
| advertisement section at the end of the book. The UTF-8 |
| version of the text file will require a Unicode capable |
| text reader to display a few Greek characters and "oe" |
| ligatures which occur in the book. |
+---------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: THE OLDEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD AND HER SON
Baba Vasilka is 126 years old, and her son Tudor is 101.
They are peasants, and have lived all their lives in a
little village in Bulgaria. They are typical examples of
people who live to a great age by the use of soured milk,
as it has been their principal food all their lives.]
The
Bacillus of Long Life
A Manual of the Preparation and Souring of Milk for
Dietary Purposes, Together with an Historical
Account of the Use of Fermented Milks, from
the Earliest Times to the Present Day,
and Their Wonderful Effect in the
Prolonging of Human Existence
By
Loudon M. Douglas, F.R.S.E.
_With 62 Illustrations_
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1911
_Revised Edition_
COPYRIGHT, 1911
BY
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
PREFACE
This book has been designed with a view to meet an extensive demand for
definite data on the subject of Soured Milks. The author has had this
matter brought before him, times without number, by those inquiring for
authentic information on the subject, and he has therefore considered it
desirable to gather together such information as is available in
connection with ancient and modern practice. He has endeavoured to
present this to the reader in concise form.
The author is indebted to many friends for their assistance in getting
the book together, and would specially mention Dr. H. B. Hutchinson,
Bacteriologist, Rothamsted Experimental Station, for assistance in
connection with the bacteriology of fermented milks; Mr. Thomas Douglas,
of Wimbledon, who has assisted with the chemistry of the subject; Mr. S.
Javrilovitch, of Belgrade, Servia, for local information and
illustrations; Dr. Otokar Laxa, Bacteriologist, of Prague, Bohemia, for
general assistance; the editor of _Bacteriotherapy_, New York, U.S.A.,
for the use of the group of illustrations 30-44; the publishers of the
_Centralblatt fuer Bakteriologie_, Jena, for the group of illustrations
14-29; and many others, some of whom are referred to in the text.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--INTRODUCTORY--HISTORICAL 1
II.--FERMENTED MILKS 15
III.--THE CHEMISTRY OF MILK 47
IV.--HANDLING OF MILK 68
V.--THE BACTERIOLOGY OF FERMENTED OR SOURED MILK 84
VI.--THE PREPARATION OF SOURED MILK IN THE HOUSE 125
VII.--THE PREPARATION OF SOURED MILK IN THE DAIRY 139
VIII.--SOURED MILK IN HEALTH AND DISEASE 151
INDEX 165
ILLUSTRATIONS
FIG. PAGE
THE OLDEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD AND HER SON _Frontispiece_
THE PASS OF BUKOVA 2
KABYLES SOURING MILK 4
THE HANDLING OF MILK IN THE PYRENEES 8
THE CONSTITUENTS OF MILK 48
1.--MICRO-PHOTOGRAPH OF A DROP OF WHOLE MILK 58
2.--MICRO-PHOTOGRAPH OF SEPARATED MILK 58
3.--MICRO-PHOTOGRAPH OF CREAM 58
4.--PHOTOGRAPH OF TWO PETRI DISHES, WHICH HAVE BEEN
INOCULATED WITH ORDINARY MILK 60
5.--THE CREAMOMETER 62
6.--TESTING-GLASS FOR EXTRANEOUS MATTER IN MILK 62
7.--LACTOMETER AND TEST-GLASS 64
8.--PASTEURISER 78
9.--CONTINUOUS APPARATUS FOR THE PRODUCTION OF LARGE
QUANTITIES OF SOURED MILK 82
10.--A MILK-FILLING APPARATUS 90
11.--SECTION THROUGH A KEPHIR GRAIN 94
12.--_Streptococcus lacticus_ (GROTENFELDT) GROWING ON
LACTOSE-AGAR, STAINED BY GRAM'S METHOD 96
13.--PHOTO-MICROGRAPH OF PREPARATION FROM ARMENIAN SOURED
MILK (MATZOON) 106
14.--GRANULE BACILLUS FROM YOGHOURT. SHREDDED PREPARATION
OF A FRESH SKIM-MILK CULTURE 110
15.--GRANULE BACILLUS FROM YOGHOURT, CULTIVATED AFTER
THE USUAL AGAR METHOD 110
16.--GRANULE BACILL
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Produced by Michael Gray
Eternal Life
By Professor
Henry
Drummond
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus
Copyright 1896 by Henry Altemus.
ETERNAL LIFE.
"This is Life Eternal--that they might know Thee, the True God, and
Jesus Christ whom Thou has sent."--_Jesus Christ_.
"Perfect correspondence would be perfect life. Were there no changes in
the environment but such as the organism had adapted changes to meet,
and were it never to fail in the efficiency with which it met them,
there would be eternal existence and eternal knowledge."--_Herbert
Spencer_.
ONE of the most startling achievements of recent science is a definition
of Eternal Life. To the religious mind this is a contribution of immense
moment. For eighteen hundred years only one definition of Life Eternal
was before the world. Now there are two.
Through all these centuries revealed religion had this doctrine to
itself. Ethics had a voice, as well as Christianity, on the question of
the _summum bonum_; Philosophy ventured to speculate on the Being of a
God. But no source outside Christianity contributed anything to the
doctrine of Eternal Life. Apart from Revelation, this great truth was
unguaranteed. It was the one thing in the Christian system that most
needed verification from without, yet none was forthcoming. And never
has any further light been thrown upon the question why in its very
nature the Christian Life should be Eternal. Christianity itself even
upon this point has been obscure. Its decision upon the bare fact is
authoritative and specific. But as to what there is in the Spiritual
Life necessarily endowing it with the element of Eternity, the maturest
theology is all but silent.
It has been reserved for modern biology at once to defend and illuminate
this central truth of the Christian faith. And hence in the interests of
religion, practical and evidential, this second and scientific
definition of Eternal Life is to be hailed as an announcement of
commanding interest. Why it should not yet have received the recognition
of religious thinkers--for already it has lain some years unnoticed--is
not difficult to understand. The belief in Science as an aid to faith is
not yet ripe enough to warrant men in searching there for witnesses to
the highest Christian truths. The inspiration of Nature, it is thought,
extends to the humbler doctrines alone. And yet the reverent inquirer
who guides his steps in the right direction may find even now in the
still dim twilight of the scientific world much that will illuminate and
intensify his sublimest faith. Here, at least, comes, and comes
unbidden, the opportunity of testing the most vital point of the
Christian system. Hitherto the Christian philosopher has remained
content with the scientific evidence against Annihilation. Or, with
Butler, he has reasoned from the Metamorphoses of Insects to a future
life. Or again, with the authors of "The Unseen Universe," the apologist
has constructed elaborate, and certainly impressive, arguments upon the
Law of Continuity. But now we may draw nearer. For the first time
Science touches Christianity _positively_ on the doctrine of
Immortality. It confronts us with an actual definition of an Eternal
Life, based on a full and rigidly accurate examination of the necessary
conditions. Science does not pretend that it can fulfil these
conditions. Its votaries make no claim to possess the Eternal Life. It
simply postulates the requisite conditions without concerning itself
whether any organism should ever appear, or does now exist, which might
fulfil them. The claim of religion, on the other hand, is that there are
organisms which possess Eternal Life. And the problem for us to solve is
this: Do those who profess to possess Eternal Life fulfil the conditions
required by Science, or are they different conditions? In a word, Is the
Christian conception of Eternal Life scientific?
It may be unnecessary to notice at the outset that the definition of
Eternal Life drawn up by Science was framed without reference to
religion. It must indeed have been the last thought with the thinker to
whom we chiefly owe it, that in unfolding the conception of a Life in
its very nature necessarily eternal, he was contributing to Theology.
Mr. Herbert Spencer--for it is to him we owe it--would be the first to
admit the impartiality of his definition; and from the connection in
which it occurs in his writings, it is obvious that religion was not
even present to his mind. He is analyzing with minute care the relations
between Environment and Life. He unfolds the principle according to
which Life is high or low, long or short. He shows why organisms live
and why they die. And finally he defines a condition of things in which
an organism would never die--in which it would enjoy a perpetual and
perfect Life. This to him is, of course, but a speculation. Life Eternal
is a biological conceit. The conditions necessary to an Eternal Life do
not exist in the natural world. So that the definition is altogether
impartial and independent. A Perfect Life, to Science, is simply a thing
which is theoretically possible--like a Perfect Vacuum.
Before giving, in so many words, the definition of Mr. Herbert Spencer,
it will render it fully intelligible if we gradually lead up to it by a
brief rehearsal of the few and simple biological facts on which it is
based. In considering the subject of Death, we have formerly seen that
there are degrees of Life. By this is meant that some lives have more
and fuller correspondence with Environment than others. The amount of
correspondence, again, is determined by the greater or less complexity
of the organism. Thus a simple organism like the Amoeba is possessed of
very few correspondences. It is a mere sac of transparent structureless
jelly for which organization has done almost nothing, and hence it can
only communicate with the smallest possible area of Environment. An
insect, in virtue of its more complex structure, corresponds with a
wider area. Nature has endowed it with special faculties for reaching
out to the Environment on many sides; it has more life than the Amoeba.
In other words, it is a higher animal. Man again, whose body is still
further differentiated, or broken up into different correspondences,
finds himself _en rapport_ with his surroundings to a further extent.
And therefore he is higher still, more living still. And this law, that
the degree of Life varies with the degree of correspondence, holds to
the minutest detail throughout the entire range of living things. Life
becomes fuller and fuller, richer and richer, more and more sensitive
and responsive to an ever-widening Environment as we rise in the chain
of being.
Now it will speedily appear that a distinct relation exists, and must
exist, between complexity and longevity. Death being brought about by
the failure of an organism to adjust itself to some change in the
Environment, it follows that those organisms which are able to adjust
themselves most readily and successfully will live the longest. They
will continue time after time to effect the appropriate adjustment, and
their power of doing so will be exactly proportionate to their
complexity--that is, to the amount of Environment they can control with
their correspondences. There are, for example, in the Environment of
every animal certain things which are directly or indirectly dangerous
to Life. If its equipment of correspondences is not complete enough to
enable it to avoid these dangers in all possible circumstances, it must
sooner or later succumb. The organism then with the most perfect set of
correspondences, that is, the highest and most complex organism, has an
obvious advantage over less complex forms. It can adjust itself more
perfectly and frequently. But this is just the biological way of saying
that it can live the longest. And hence the relation between complexity
and longevity may be expressed thus--the most complex organisms are the
longest lived.
To state and illustrate the proposition conversely may make the point
still further clear. The less highly organized an animal is, the less
will be its chance of remaining in lengthened correspondence with its
Environment. At some time or other in its career circumstances are sure
to occur to which the comparatively immobile organism finds itself
structurally unable to respond. Thus a _Medusa_ tossed ashore by a wave,
finds itself so out of correspondence with its new surroundings that its
life must pay the forfeit. Had it been able by internal change to adapt
itself to external change--to correspond sufficiently with the new
environment, as for example to crawl, as an eel would have done, back
into that environment with which it had completer correspondence--its
life might have been spared. But had this happened it would continue to
live henceforth only so long as it could continue in correspondence with
all the circumstances in which it might find itself. Even if, however,
it became complex enough to resist the ordinary and direct dangers of
its environment, it might still be out of correspondence with others. A
naturalist for instance, might take advantage of its want of
correspondence with particular sights and sounds to capture it for his
cabinet, or the sudden dropping of a yacht's anchor or the turn of a
screw might cause its untimely death.
Again, in the case of a bird in virtue of its more complex organization,
there is command over a much larger area of environment. It can take
precautions such as the _Medusa_ could not; it has increased facilities
for securing food; its adjustments all round are more complex; and
therefore it ought to be able to maintain its Life for a longer period.
There is still a large area, however, over which it has no control. Its
power of internal change is not complete enough to afford it perfect
correspondence with all external changes, and its tenure of Life is to
that extent insecure. Its correspondence, moreover, is limited even with
regard to those external conditions with which it has been partially
established. Thus a bird in ordinary circumstances has no difficulty in
adapting itself to changes of temperature, but if these are varied
beyond the point at which its capacity of adjustment begins to fail--for
example, during an extreme winter--the organism being unable to meet the
condition must perish. The human organism, on the other hand, can
respond to this external condition, as well as to countless other
vicissitudes under which lower forms would inevitably succumb. Man's
adjustments are to the largest known area of Environment, and hence he
ought to be able furthest to prolong his Life.
It becomes evident, then, that as we ascend in the scale of Life we rise
also in the scale of longevity. The lowest organisms are, as a rule,
shortlived, and the rate of mortality diminishes more or less regularly
as we ascend in the animal scale. So extraordinary indeed is the
mortality among lowly-organized forms that in most cases a compensation
is actually provided, nature endowing them with a marvellously increased
fertility in order to guard against absolute extinction. Almost all
lower forms are furnished not only with great reproductive powers, but
with different methods of propagation, by which, in various
circumstances, and in an incredibly short time, the species can be
indefinitely multiplied. Ehrenberg found that by the repeated
subdivisions of a single _Paramecium_, no fewer than 268,000,000 similar
organisms might be produced in one month. This power steadily decreases
as we rise higher in the scale, until forms are reached in which one,
two, or at most three, come into being at a birth. It decreases, however
because it is no longer needed. These forms have a much longer lease of
Life. And it may be taken as a rule, although it has exceptions, that
complexity in animal organisms is always associated with longevity.
It may be objected that these illustrations are taken merely from morbid
conditions. But whether the Life be cut short by accident or by disease
the principle is the same. All dissolution is brought about practically
in the same way. A certain condition in the Environment fails to be met
by a corresponding condition in the organism, and this is death. And
conversely the more an organism in virtue of its complexity can adapt
itself to all the parts of its Environment, the longer it will live. "It
is manifest _a priori_," says Mr. Herbert Spencer, "that since changes
in the physical state of the environment, as also those mechanical
actions and those variations of available food which occur in it, are
liable to stop the processes going on in the organism; and since the
adaptive changes in the organism have the effects of directly or
indirectly counterbalancing these changes in the environment, it follows
that the life of the organism will be short or long, low or high,
according to the extent to which changes in the environment are met by
corresponding changes in the organism. Allowing a margin for
perturbations, the life will continue only while the correspondence
continues; the completeness of the life will be proportionate to the
completeness of the correspondence; and the life will be perfect only
when the correspondence is perfect." [1]
[1] "Principles of Biology," p. 82.
We are now all but in sight of our scientific definition of Eternal
Life. The desideratum is an organism with a correspondence of a very
exceptional kind. It must lie beyond the reach of those "mechanical
actions" and those "variations of available food," which are "liable to
stop the processes going on in the organism." Before we reach an Eternal
Life we must pass beyond that point at which all ordinary
correspondences inevitably cease. We must find an organism so high and
complex, that at some point in its development it shall have added a
correspondence which organic death is powerless to arrest. We must, in
short, pass beyond that finite region where the correspondences depend
on evanescent and material media, and enter a further region where the
Environment corresponded with is itself Eternal. Such an Environment
exists. The Environment of the Spiritual world is outside the influence
of these "mechanical actions," which sooner or later interrupt the
processes going on in all finite organisms. If then we can find an
organism which has established a correspondence with the spiritual
world, that correspondence will possess the elements of eternity--
provided only one other condition be fulfilled.
That condition is that the Environment be perfect. If it is not perfect,
if it is not the highest, if it is endowed with the finite quality of
change, there can be no guarantee that the Life of its correspondents
will be eternal. Some change might occur in it which the correspondents
had no adaptive changes to meet, and Life would cease. But grant a
spiritual organism in perfect correspondence with a perfect spiritual
Environment, and the conditions necessary to Eternal Life are satisfied.
The exact terms of Mr. Herbert Spencer's definition of Eternal Life may
now be given. And it will be seen that they include essentially the
conditions here laid down. "Perfect correspondence would be perfect
life. Were there no changes in the environment but such as the organism
had adapted changes to meet, and were it never to fail in the efficiency
with which it met them, there would be eternal existence and eternal
knowledge." [1] Reserving the question as to the possible fulfilment of
these conditions, let us turn for a moment to the definition of Eternal
Life laid down by Christ. Let us place it alongside the definition of
Science, and mark the points of contact. Uninterrupted correspondence
with a perfect Environment is Eternal Life according to Science. "This
is Life Eternal," said Christ, "that they may know Thee, the only true
God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou has sent." [2] Life Eternal is to know
God. To know God is to "correspond" with God. To correspond with God is
to correspond with a Perfect Environment. And the organism which attains
to this, in the nature of things must live for ever. Here is "eternal
existence and eternal knowledge."
[1] "Principles of Biology," p. 88.
[2] John xvii.
The main point of agreement between the scientific and the religious
definition is that Life consists in a peculiar and personal relation
defined as a "correspondence." This conception, that Life consists in
correspondences, has been so abundantly illustrated already that it is
now unnecessary to discuss it further. All Life indeed consists
essentially in correspondences with various Environments. The artist's
life is a correspondence with art; the musician's with music. To cut
them off from these Environments is in that relation to cut off their
Life. To be cut off from all Environment is death. To find a new
Environment again and cultivate relation with it is to find a new Life.
To live is to correspond, and to correspond is to live. So much is true
in Science. But it is also true in Religion. And it is of great
importance to observe that to Religion also the conception of Life is a
correspondence. No truth of Christianity has been more ignorantly or
wilfully travestied than the doctrine of Immortality. The popular idea,
in spite of a hundred protests, is that Eternal Life is to live forever.
A single glance at the _locus classicus_, might have made this error
impossible. There we are told that Life Eternal is not to live. This is
Life Eternal--_to know_. And yet--and it is a notorious instance of the
fact that men who are opposed to Religion will take their conceptions of
its profoundest truths from mere vuglar perversions--this view still
represents to many cultivated men the Scriptural doctrine of Eternal
Life. From time to time the taunt is thrown at Religion, not unseldom
from lips which Science ought to have taught more caution, that the
Future Life of Christianity is simply a prolonged existence, an eternal
monotony, a blind and indefinite continuance of being. The Bible never
could commit itself to any such empty platitude; nor could Christianity
ever offer to the world a hope so colorless. Not that Eternal Life has
nothing to do with everlastingness. That is part of the conception. And
it is this aspect of the question that first arrests us in the field of
Science. But even Science has more in its definition than longevity. It
has a correspondence and an Environment; and although it cannot fill up
these terms for Religion, it can indicate at least the nature of the
relation, the kind of thing that is meant by Life. Science speaks to us
indeed of much more than numbers of years. It defines degrees of Life.
It explains a widening Environment. It unfolds the relation between a
widening Environment and increasing complexity in organisms. And if it
has no absolute contribution to the content of Religion, its analogies
are not limited to a point. It yields to Immortality, and this is the
most that Science can
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Internet Archive)
LECTURES
IN THE
TRAINING SCHOOLS
FOR
Kindergarten Teachers.
EDUCATION
IN
THE HOME, THE KINDERGARTEN,
AND
THE PRIMARY SCHOOL.
BY
ELIZABETH P. PEABODY.
_WITH AN INTRODUCTION_
BY
E. ADELAIDE MANNING.
"Come, let us live _with_ our children."--FRŒBEL.
LONDON:
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN, LOWREY & CO.,
PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
1887.
INTRODUCTION.
AMONG those who in the last twenty years have helped to spread a
knowledge of the educational principles of Froebel beyond the limits of
his native country, Miss Elizabeth Peabody's name deserves to be
specially remembered. It is mainly owing to her enthusiastic efforts
that the value of the Kindergarten was early recognised in the United
States, and that its first American promoters were encouraged to
maintain, amid many difficulties, a standard of real efficiency for the
teachers of Froebel's system. Miss Peabody had long occupied herself,
theoretically and practically, with educational subjects. Not satisfied
by merely intellectual methods of instruction, and impatient of the
superficiality which was too often approved, she made it her great aim
to train character, and, by a simultaneous development of children's
mental capacities and of their moral nature, to prepare them for the
responsible duties of life. It was not surprising that when Miss
Peabody, holding such views of education, came in contact with the ideas
and the work of Froebel, she at once experienced the delight always
attached to the discovery that the problems exercising our own minds
have been successfully solved by some one who has started from
principles such as ours, and who has cultivated the same ideal. She
found that Froebel had carried into practice that very kind of training
of which she had realized the immense importance, and that he had placed
in a clear light truths which she had already more dimly perceived.
Eager to inform herself about the new system, Miss Peabody travelled, in
1868, to Europe, on purpose to visit in Germany the Kindergartens
established by Froebel, who was no longer living, and by his best
pupils. On her return to America, she devoted herself for many years to
the introduction and improvement of Kindergartens and of training
institutions, and to enlightening, by her writings and addresses,
mothers and educators respecting the value and simplicity of Froebel's
methods. Miss Peabody has the satisfaction of witnessing a good measure
of success from her generous exertions, in the increasing number of
advocates of the Kindergarten in America, in its adoption as a first
department of many State primary schools, and in the numerous private
and charity Kindergartens founded from North to South, and from New York
to San Francisco. Advanced now in years, this warm-hearted lady is
engaged in other lines of philanthropic work, but she retains, and still
manifests, her earnest interest in the educational progress which she
has laboured so actively to secure.
Ever since Miss Peabody's zeal was kindled for Froebel's ideal as to
young children's education, her help and criticism have been sought by
the trainers of Kindergarten students in America, and by all who, with
serious purpose, have thus worked for the movement. Hence she has often
delivered lectures at the opening of the session at Normal Colleges, and
on other occasions when she saw an opportunity of exercising influence
in favour of rational principles of education. This book, which appeared
only lately at Boston, consists of a few of such lectures. It is now,
with Miss Peabody's consent, published in England, where many parents
and teachers will be glad to profit by the author's wise and loving
study of little children, and her sympathetic insight into Froebel's
methods for their development. During the last few years various
thoughtful writers on education have drawn attention here to the subject
of infant management, and it is remarkable how widely the principles of
Froebel and Pestalozzi are now recognised and accepted. But books are
still greatly needed which, especially addressed to those who have
charge of children, urge in a convincing manner how essential it is
that the first few years should be rightly guided, and indicate certain
defined educational aims. I think that Miss Peabody's lectures are
likely to prove very useful in this direction. Though her readers will
perhaps contest some of her psychological deductions, they cannot fail
to be impressed and benefited by the high tone of her reasoning, by her
evidently tender and reverent love of children, and by her excellent
suggestions in regard to their harmonious development.
Amongst its other merits, this book tends to correct the still too
prevalent notion, that the Kindergarten is a peculiar--an almost
magical--institution, which provides a
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
MASTERPIECES
IN COLOUR
EDITED BY--
M. HENRY ROUJON
HENNER
(1829-1905)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_IN THE SAME SERIES_
REYNOLDS LE BRUN
VELASQUEZ CHARDIN
GREUZE MILLET
TURNER RAEBURN
BOTTICELLI SARGENT
ROMNEY CONSTABLE
REMBRANDT MEMLING
BELLINI FRAGONARD
FRA ANGELICO DÜRER
ROSSETTI LAWRENCE
RAPHAEL HOGARTH
LEIGHTON WATTEAU
HOLMAN HUNT MURILLO
TITIAN WATTS
MILLAIS INGRES
LUINI COROT
FRANZ HALS DELACROIX
CARLO DOLCI FRA LIPPO LIPPI
GAINSBOROUGH PUVIS DE CHAVANNES
TINTORETTO MEISSONIER
VAN DYCK GÉRÔME
DA VINCI VERONESE
WHISTLER VAN EYCK
RUBENS FROMENTIN
BOUCHER MANTEGNA
HOLBEIN PERUGINO
BURNE-JONES ROSA BONHEUR
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: PLATE I.--THE LITTLE GIRL WITH THE BLUE RIBBON
(Petit Palais des Beaux-Arts)
This little portrait, charmingly delicate and delightful in colouring,
belongs to the first period of the painter's life. None the less,
it is remarkable in execution and in truth.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
HENNER
_BY FR. CRASTRE_
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH
BY FREDERIC TABER COOPER
_ILLUSTRATED WITH EIGHT
REPRODUCTIONS IN COLOUR_
[Illustration: IN SEMPITERNUM.]
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
NEW YORK--PUBLISHERS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
_Printed in the United States of America_
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
Page
The First Years 18
The Arrival at Paris 29
The Years in Rome 37
The Works of Henner 44
The Portrait Painter 72
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Plate
I. The Little Girl with the Blue Ribbon Frontispiece
Petit Palais des Beaux-Arts
II. The Reclining Nymph 14
Luxembourg Museum
III. Portrait of Mlle. L 24
Luxembourg Museum
IV. The Little Writer 34
Petit Palais des Beaux-Arts
V. Bara 40
Petit Palais des Beaux-Arts
VI. The Comtesse Diana 50
Luxembourg Museum
VII. The Naiad 60
Luxembourg Museum
VIII. The Magdalen with the Crucifix 70
Petit Palais des Beaux-Arts
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: Line drawing of Henner]
There is no one who has not chanced, sooner or later, to pass the
window of some picture dealer and find himself irresistibly attracted
by a canvas forming a patch of fluid gold, a luminous vapour bathing
the white body of a woman, white with that rich, warm whiteness that
reveals, through the transparency of the skin, the inner flame, the
bounding blood, the pulsing life. Such a picture was a Henner. And when
you have come into contact, if only for once, with a work by this
incomparable artist, the effect is lasting; you recognize any and all
of his works at the first glance, just as you recognize a friend in the
street, even before he is near enough for you to distinguish his
features. So personal is Henner's manner, and so original his product,
that it is impossible to confound him with any other painter, just as
no other painter has ever been able or even attempted to imitate a type
of which he alone possessed the magic secret. Although the tomb has
barely closed above him, Henner has already entered upon his heritage
of glory. Or should we not rather say that he had entered upon it
during life, and that the unanimity of admiration which always followed
him was in the nature of a definitive judgment, which posterity has
nothing left to do but ratify? Among the most illustrious of our modern
painters, Henner is the one who possesses to the highest degree the art
of imprisoning light, of playing with it, of making it vibrate, of
using it to illumine the most profound woodland shades, or to set it
palpitating over feminine flesh. We must not seek within our own times
for any other with whom to compare him; for this we must look backward,
far backward, to the period of that glorious Venetian school of which
he seems to be a direct product. From Giorgione he derives his warm and
living flesh tints; it would seem that Titian had bequeathed to him his
profound and powerful mastery of colour; and if Correggio could see the
Nymphs and Bathing Women of Henner, he would certainly recognize in
them that same velvety delicacy and vaporous lightness with which he
himself was wont to envelop his female forms.
[Illustration: PLATE II.--RECLINING NYMPH
(Luxembourg Museum)
In
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Title: Rise of the New West, 1819-1829
Volume 14 in the series American Nation: A History
Author: Frederick Jackson Turner
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THE AMERICAN NATION
A HISTORY
FROM ORIGINAL SOURCES BY ASSOCIATED SCHOLARS
EDITED BY
ALBERT BUSHNELL HART, L.L.D.
PROFESSOR OF HISTORY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY
ADVISED BY
VARIOUS HISTORICAL SOCIETIES
THE AMERICAN NATION
A HISTORY
LIST OF AUTHORS AND TITLES
GROUP I
FOUNDATIONS OF THE NATION
Vol. 1 European Background of American History, by Edward Potts
Cheyney, A.M., Prof. European Hist., Univ. of Pa.
Vol. 2 Basis of American History, by Livingston Farrand, LL.D.,
President Univ. of Colo.
Vol. 3 Spain in America, by the late Edward Gaylord Bourne, Ph.D.,
formerly Prof. Hist., Yale Univ.
Vol. 4 England in America, by Lyon Gardiner Tyler, LL.D., President
William and Mary College.
Vol. 5 Colonial Self-Government, by Charles McLean Andrews, Ph.D.,
Prof. Am. History, Yale University.
GROUP II
TRANSFORMATION INTO A NATION
Vol. 6 Provincial America, by Evarts Boutell Greene, Ph.D., Prof.
Hist, and Dean of College, Univ. of Ill.
Vol. 7 France in America, by the late Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.,
formerly Sec. Wisconsin State Hist. Soc.
Vol. 8 Preliminaries of the Revolution, by George Elliott Howard,
Ph.D., Prof. Polit. Science Univ. of Neb.
Vol. 9 The American Revolution, by Claude Halstead Van Tyne, Ph.D.,
Head Prof. Hist. Univ. of Michigan.
Vol. 10 The Confederation and the Constitution, by Andrew Cunningham
McLaughlin, A.M., Head Prof. Hist., Univ. of Chicago.
GROUP III
DEVELOPMENT OF THE NATION
Vol. II The Federalist System, by John Spencer Bassett, Ph.D., Prof.
Am. Hist., Smith College.
Vol. 12 The Jeffersonian System, by Edward Channing, Ph.D., Prof.
Ancient and Modern Hist., Harvard Univ.
Vol. 13 Rise of American Nationality, by Kendric Charles Babcock,
Ph.D., Dean Col. Arts and Sciences, Univ. of Illinois.
Vol. 14 Rise of the New West, by Frederick Jackson Turner, Ph.D.,
Prof. Hist., Harvard University.
Vol. 15 Jacksonian Democracy, by William MacDonald, LL.D., Prof.
Government, Univ. of California.
GROUP IV
TRIAL OF NATIONALITY
Vol. 16 Slavery and Abolition, by Albert Bushnell Hart, LL.D., Prof.
Government, Harvard Univ.
Vol. 17 Westward Extension, by the late George Pierce Garrison,
Ph.D., formerly Prof. Hist., Univ.
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[Illustration: Portrait of Thoreau]
MR. THOREAU'S WRITINGS.
I. WALDEN. 1 vol. 16mo. Price $1.25.
II. A WEEK ON THE CONCORD AND MERRIMACK RIVERS. 1 vol. 12mo. Price $1.50.
EXCURSIONS.
BY
HENRY D. THOREAU.
1863
CONTENTS.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
NATURAL HISTORY OF MASSACHUSETTS
A WALK TO WACHUSETT
THE LANDLORD
A WINTER WALK
THE SUCCESSION OF FOREST TREES
WALKING
AUTUMNAL TINTS
WILD APPLES
NIGHT AND MOONLIGHT
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.
BY R.W. EMERSON.
HENRY DAVID THOREAU was the last male descendant of a French ancestor who
came to this country from the Isle of Guernsey. His character exhibited
occasional traits drawn from this blood in singular combination with a
very strong Saxon genius.
He was born in Concord, Massachusetts, on the 12th of July, 1817. He was
graduated at Harvard College in 1837, but without any literary
distinction. An iconoclast in literature, he seldom thanked colleges for
their service to him, holding them in small esteem, whilst yet his debt to
them was important. After leaving the University, he joined his brother in
teaching a private school, which he soon renounced. His father was a
manufacturer of lead-pencils, and Henry applied himself for a time to this
craft, believing he could make a better pencil than was then in use.
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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)
YOU KNOW ME AL
RING W. LARDNER
YOU KNOW ME
AL
_A Busher's Letters_
BY
RING W. LARDNER
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
Copyright, 1916,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A BUSHER'S LETTERS HOME 9
II THE BUSHER COMES BACK 45
III THE BUSHER'S HONEYMOON 83
IV A NEW BUSHER BREAKS IN 122
V THE BUSHER'S KID 166
VI THE BUSHER BEATS IT HENCE 208
YOU KNOW ME AL
YOU KNOW ME AL
CHAPTER I
A BUSHER'S LETTERS HOME
_Terre Haute, Indiana, September 6._
FRIEND AL: Well, Al old pal I suppose you seen in the paper where I
been sold to the White Sox. Believe me Al it comes as a surprise to
me and I bet it did to all you good old pals down home. You could of
knocked me over with a feather when the old man come up to me and says
Jack I've sold you to the Chicago Americans.
I didn't have no idea that anything like that was coming off. For five
minutes I was just dum and couldn't say a word.
He says We aren't getting what you are worth but I want you to go up to
that big league and show those birds that there is a Central League
on the map. He says Go and pitch the ball you been pitching down here
and there won't be nothing to it. He says All you need is the nerve and
Walsh or no one else won't have nothing on you.
So I says I would do the best I could and I thanked him for the
treatment I got in Terre Haute. They always was good to me here
and though I did more than my share I always felt that my work was
appresiated. We are finishing second and I done most of it. I can't
help but be proud of my first year's record in professional baseball
and you know I am not boasting when I say that Al.
Well Al it will seem funny to be up there in the big show when I never
was really in a big city before. But I guess I seen enough of life not
to be scared of the high buildings eh Al?
I will just give them what I got and if they don't like it they can
send me back to the old Central and I will be perfectly satisfied.
I didn't know anybody was looking me over, but one of the boys told me
that Jack Doyle the White Sox scout was down here looking at me when
Grand Rapids was here. I beat them twice in that serious. You know
Grand Rapids never had a chance with me when I was right. I shut them
out in the first game and they got one run in the second on account of
Flynn misjuging that fly ball. Anyway Doyle liked my work and he wired
Comiskey to buy me. Comiskey come back with an offer and they excepted
it. I don't know how much they got but anyway I am sold to the big
league and believe me Al I will make good.
Well Al I will be home in a few days and we will have some of the good
old times. Regards to all the boys and tell them I am still their pal
and not all swelled up over this big league business.
Your pal, JACK.
_Chicago, Illinois, December 14._
Old Pal: Well Al I have not got much to tell you. As you know Comiskey
wrote me that if I was up in Chi this month to drop in and see him. So
I got here Thursday morning and went to his office in the afternoon.
His office is out to the ball park and believe me its some park and
some office.
I went in and asked for Comiskey and a young fellow says He is not here
now but can I do anything for you? I told him who I am and says I had
an engagement to see Comiskey. He says The boss is out of town hunting
and did I have to see him personally?
I says I wanted to see about signing a contract. He told me I could
sign as well with him as Comiskey and he took me into another office.
He says What salary did you think you ought to get? and I says I
wouldn't think of playing ball in the big league for less than three
thousand dollars per annum.
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[Illustration: frontispiece]
THE RETURN
OF THE SOLDIER
BY
REBECCA WEST
NEW [Illustration: colophon] YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1918,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
THE RETURN OF THE SOLDIER
-C-
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
He lay there in the confiding relaxation of
a child _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
"Give it a brush now and then, like a good
soul" 6
She would get into the four-foot punt that
was used as a ferry and bring it over very
slowly 66
"I oughtn't to do it, ought I?" 176
THE RETURN
OF THE SOLDIER
CHAPTER I
"Ah, don't begin to fuss!" wailed Kitty. "If a woman began to worry in
these days because her husband hadn't written to her for a fortnight!
Besides, if he'd been anywhere interesting, anywhere where the fighting
was really hot, he'd have found some way of telling me instead of just
leaving it as 'Somewhere in France.' He'll be all right."
We were sitting in the nursery. I had not meant to enter it again, now
that the child was dead; but I had come suddenly on Kitty as she slipped
the key into the lock, and I had lingered to look in at the high room,
so full of whiteness and clear colors, so unendurably gay and familiar,
which is kept in all respects as though there were still a child in the
house. It was the first lavish day of spring, and the sunlight was
pouring through the tall, arched windows and the flowered curtains so
brightly that in the old days a fat fist would certainly have been
raised to point out the new, translucent glories of the rosebud.
Sunlight was lying in great pools on the blue cork floor and the soft
rugs, patterned with strange beasts, and threw dancing beams, which
should have been gravely watched for hours, on the white paint and the
blue distempered walls. It fell on the rocking-horse, which had been
Chris's idea of an appropriate present for his year-old son, and showed
what a fine fellow he was and how tremendously dappled; it picked out
Mary and her little lamb on the chintz ottoman. And along the
mantelpiece, under the loved print of the snarling tiger, in attitudes
that were at once angular and relaxed, as though they were ready for
play at their master's pleasure, but found it hard to keep from drowsing
in this warm weather, sat the Teddy Bear and the chimpanzee and the
woolly white dog and the black cat with eyes that roll. Everything was
there except Oliver. I turned away so that I might not spy on Kitty
revisiting her dead. But she called after me:
"Come here, Jenny. I'm going to dry my hair." And when I looked again I
saw that her golden hair was all about her shoulders and that she wore
over her frock a little silken jacket trimmed with rosebuds. She looked
so like a girl on a magazine cover that one expected to find a large "15
cents" somewhere attached to her person. She had taken Nanny's big
basket-chair from its place by the high-chair, and was pushing it over
to the middle window. "I always come in here when Emery has washed my
hair. It's the sunniest room in the house. I wish Chris wouldn't have
it kept as a nursery when there's no chance--" She sat down, swept her
hair over the back of the chair into the sunlight, and held out to me
her tortoiseshell hair-brush. "Give it a brush now and then, like a good
soul; but be careful. Tortoise snaps so!"
I took the brush and turned to the window, leaning my forehead against
the glass and staring unobservantly at the view. You probably know the
beauty of that view; for when Chris rebuilt Baldry Court after his
marriage he handed it over to architects who had not so much the wild
eye of the artist as the knowing wink of the manicurist, and between
them they massaged the dear old place into matter for innumerable
photographs in the illustrated papers. The house lies on the crest of
Harrowweald, and from its windows the eye drops to miles of emerald
pasture-land lying wet and brilliant under a westward line of sleek
hills; blue with distance and distant woods, while nearer it range the
suave decorum of the lawn and the Lebanon cedar, the branches of which
are like darkness made palpable, and the minatory gauntnesses of the
topmost pines in the wood that breaks downward, its bare boughs a close
texture of browns and purples, from the pond on the edge of the hill.
[Illustration: "Give it a brush now and then, like a good soul"]
That day its beauty was an affront to me, because, like most
Englishwomen of my time, I was wishing for the return of a soldier.
Disregarding the national interest and everything else except the keen
prehensile gesture of our hearts toward him, I wanted to snatch my
Cousin Christopher from the wars and seal him in this green pleasantness
his wife and I now looked upon. Of late I had had bad dreams about him.
By nights I saw Chris running across the brown rottenness of
No-Man's-Land, starting back here because he trod upon a hand, not even
looking there because of the awfulness of an unburied head, and not till
my dream was packed full of horror did I see him pitch forward on
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THE LITTLE REGIMENT
AND OTHER EPISODES OF THE
AMERICAN CIVIL WAR
By
STEPHEN CRANE
CONTENTS
THE LITTLE REGIMENT
THREE MIRACULOUS SOLDIERS
A MYSTERY OF HEROISM
AN INDIANA CAMPAIGN
A GREY SLEEVE
THE VETERAN
THE LITTLE REGIMENT
I
The fog made the clothes of the men of the column in the roadway seem
of a luminous quality. It imparted to the heavy infantry overcoats a
new colour, a kind of blue which was so pale that a regiment might have
been merely a long, low shadow in the mist. However, a muttering, one
part grumble, three parts joke, hovered in the air above the thick
ranks, and blended in an undertoned roar, which was the voice of the
column.
The town on the southern shore of the little river loomed spectrally, a
faint etching upon the grey cloud-masses which were shifting with oily
languor. A long row of guns upon the northern bank had been pitiless in
their hatred, but a little battered belfry could be dimly seen still
pointing with invincible resolution toward the heavens.
The enclouded air vibrated with noises made by hidden colossal things.
The infantry tramplings, the heavy rumbling of the artillery, made the
earth speak of gigantic preparation. Guns on distant heights thundered
from time to time with sudden, nervous roar, as if unable to endure in
silence a knowledge of hostile troops massing, other
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TOLD IN THE COFFEE HOUSE
Told in the Coffee House
Turkish Tales
Collected and done into English
by
CYRUS ADLER AND ALLAN RAMSAY
New York
The Macmillan Company
London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd.
1898
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1898,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
PREFACE
In the course of a number of visits to Constantinople, I became much
interested in the tales that are told in the coffee houses. These are
usually little more than rooms, with walls made of small panes of
glass. The furniture consists of a tripod with a contrivance for
holding the kettle, and a fire to keep the coffee boiling. A carpeted
bench traverses the entire length of the room. This is occupied by
turbaned Turks, their legs folded under them, smoking nargilehs or
chibooks or cigarettes, and sipping coffee. A few will be engaged in a
game of backgammon, but the majority enter into conversation, at first
only in syllables, which gradually gives rise to a general discussion.
Finally, some sage of the neighborhood comes in, and the company
appeals to him to settle the point at issue. This he usually does by
telling a story to illustrate his opinion. Some of the stories told on
these occasions are adaptations of those already known in Arabic and
Persian literature, but the Turkish mind gives them a new setting and
a peculiar philosophy. They are characteristic of the habits, customs,
and methods of thought of the people, and for this reason seem worthy
of preservation.
Two of these tales have been taken from the Armenian, and were
received from Dr. K. Ohannassian of Constantinople. For one, _The
Merciful Khan_, I am indebted to Mr. George Kennan. None of them has
been translated from any book or manuscript, and all are, as nearly as
practicable, in the form in which they are usually narrated. Most of
the stories have been collected by Mr. Allan Ramsay, who, by a long
residence in Constantinople, has had special opportunities for
learning to know the modern Turk. It is due to him, however, to say
that for the style and editing he is in no wise responsible, and that
all sins of omission and commission must be laid at my door.
CYRUS ADLER.
COSMOS CLUB, WASHINGTON,
February 1, 1898.
CONTENTS
PAGE
HOW THE HODJA SAVED ALLAH 1
BETTER IS THE FOLLY OF WOMAN THAN THE WISDOM OF MAN 13
THE HANOUM AND THE UNJUST CADI 23
WHAT HAPPENED TO HADJI, A MERCHANT OF THE BEZESTAN 29
HOW THE JUNKMAN TRAVELLED TO FIND TREASURE IN HIS OWN YARD 35
HOW CHAPKIN HALID BECAME CHIEF DETECTIVE 43
HOW COBBLER AHMET BECAME THE CHIEF ASTROLOGER 52
THE WISE SON OF ALI PASHA 65
THE MERCIFUL KHAN 73
KING KARA-KUSH OF BITHYNIA 77
THE PRAYER RUG AND THE DISHONEST STEWARD 80
THE GOOSE, THE EYE, THE DAUGHTER, AND THE ARM 84
THE FORTY WISE MEN 89
HOW THE PRIEST KNEW THAT IT WOULD SNOW 103
WHO WAS THE THIRTEENTH SON? 107
PARADISE SOLD BY THE YARD 120
JEW TURNED TURK 126
THE METAMORPHOSIS 130
THE CALIF OMAR 138
KALAIDJI AVRAM OF BALATA 140
HOW MEHMET ALI PASHA OF EGYPT ADMINISTERED JUSTICE 144
HOW THE FARMER LE
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UNCLE WILLIAM
THE MAN WHO WAS SHIF'LESS
By Jennette Lee
TO GERALD STANLEY LEE
"Let him sing to me
Who sees the watching of the stars above the day,
Who hears the singing of the sunrise
On its way
Through all the night.
* * * * *
Let him sing to me
Who is the sky-voice, the thunder-lover,
Who hears above the winds' fast flying shrouds
The drifted darkness, the heavenly strife,
The singing on the sunny sides of all the clouds
Of his own life."
UNCLE WILLIAM
I
"Yes, I'm shif'less. I'm gen'ally considered shif'less," said William
Benslow. He spoke in a tone of satisfaction, and hitched his trousers
skilfully into place by their one suspender.
His companion shifted his easel a little, squinting across the harbor
at the changing light. There was a mysterious green in the water that he
failed to find in his color-box.
William Benslow watched him patiently. "Kind o' ticklish business, ain't
it?" he said.
The artist admitted that it was.
"I reckon I wouldn't ever 'a' done for a painter," said the old man,
readjusting his legs. "It's settin'-work, and that's good; but you have
to keep at it steady-like--keep a-daubin' and a-scrapin' and a-daubin'
and a-scrapin', day in and day out. I shouldn't like it. Sailin''s more
in my line," he added, scanning the horizon. "You have to step lively
when you do step, but there's plenty of off times when you can set and
look and the boat just goes skimmin' along all o' herself, with the
water and the sky all round you. I've been thankful a good many times
the Lord saw fit to make a sailor of me."
The artist glanced a little quizzically at the tumble-down house on
the cliff above them and then at the old boat, with its tattered maroon
sail, anchored below. "There's not much money in it?" he suggested.
"Money? Dunno's there is," returned the other. "You don't reely need
money if you're a sailor."
"No, I suppose not--no more than an artist."
"Don't you need money, either?" The old man spoke with cordial interest.
"Well, occasionally--not much. I have to buy canvas now and then, and
colors--"
The old man nodded. "Same as me. Canvas costs a little, and color. I dye
mine in magenta. You get it cheap in the bulk--"
The artist laughed out. "All right, Uncle William, all right," he said.
"You teach me to trust in the Lord and I'll teach you art. You see that
color out there,--deep green like shadowed grass--"
The old man nodded. "I've seen that a good many times," he said.
"Cur'us, ain't it?--just the color of lobsters when you haul 'em."
The young man started. He glanced again at the harbor. "Hum-m!" he said
under his breath. He searched in his color-box and mixed a fresh color
rapidly on the palette, transferring it swiftly to the canvas. "Ah-h!"
he said, again under his breath. It held a note of satisfaction.
Uncle William hitched up his suspender and came leisurely across the
sand. He squinted at the canvas and then at the sliding water, rising
and falling across the bay. "Putty good," he said approvingly. "You've
got it just about the way it looks--"
"Just about," assented the young man, with quick satisfaction. "Just
about. Thank you."
Uncle William nodded. "Cur'us, ain't it? there's a lot in the way you
see a thing."
"There certainly is," said the painter. His brush moved in swift strokes
across the canvas. "There certainly is. I've been studying that water
for two hours. I never thought of lobsters." He laughed happily.
Uncle William joined him, chuckling gently. "That's nateral enough," he
said kindly. "You hain't been seein' it every day for sixty year, the
way I hev." He looked at it again, lovingly, from his height.
"What's the good of being an artist if I can't see things that you
can't?" demanded the young man, swinging about on his stool.
"Well, what _is_ the use? I dunno; do you?" said Uncle William,
genially. "I've thought about that a good many times, too, when I've
been sailin'," he went on--"how them artists come up here summer after
summer makin' picters,--putty poor, most on 'em,--and what's the use?
I can see better ones settin' out there in my boat, any day.--Not but
that's better'n some," he added politely, indicating the half-finished
canvas.
The young man laughed. "Thanks to you," he said. "Come on in and make
a chowder. It's too late to do any more to-day--and that's enough." He
glanced with satisfaction at the glowing canvas with its touch of green.
He set it carefully to one side and gathered up his tubes and brushes.
Uncle William bent from his height and lifted the easel, knocking it
apart and folding it with quick skill.
The artist looked up with a nod of thanks. "All right," he said, "go
ahead."
Uncle William reached out a friendly hand for the canvas, but the artist
drew it back quickly. "No, no," he said. "You'd rub it off."
"Like enough," returned the old man, placidly. "I gen'ally do get in
a muss when there's fresh paint around. But I don't mind my clothes.
They're ust to it--same as yourn."
The young man laughed anxiously. "I wouldn't risk it," he said. "Come
on."
They turned to the path that zigzagged its way up the cliff, and with
bent backs and hinged knees they mounted to the little house perched on
its edge.
II
The old man pushed open the door with a friendly kick. "Go right along
in," he said. "I'll be there's soon as I've got an armful of wood."
The artist entered the glowing room. Turkey-red blazed at the windows
and decorated the walls. It ran along the line of shelves by the fire
and covered the big lounge. One stepped into the light of it with a
sudden sense of crude comfort.
The artist set his canvas carefully on a projecting beam and looked
about him, smiling. A cat leaped down from the turkey-red lounge and
came across, rubbing his legs. He bent and stroked her absently.
She arched her back to his hand. Then, moving from him with stately
step, she approached the door, looking back at him with calm, imperious
gaze.
"All right, Juno," he said. "He'll be along in a minute. Don't you
worry."
She turned her back on him and, seating herself, began to wash her face
gravely and slowly.
The door opened with a puff, and she leaped forward, dashing upon
the big leg that entered and digging her claws into it in ecstasy of
welcome.
Uncle William, over the armful of wood, surveyed her with shrewd eyes.
He reached down a long arm and, seizing her by the tail, swung her clear
of his path, landing her on the big lounge. With a purr of satisfaction,
she settled herself, kneading her claws in its red softness.
He deposited the wood in the box and stood up. His bluff, kind gaze
swept the little room affectionately. He took off the stove-lid and
poked together the few coals that glowed beneath. "That's all right," he
said. "She'll heat up quick." He thrust in some light sticks and pushed
forward the kettle. "Now, if you'll reach into that box behind you and
get the potatoes," he said, "I'll do the rest of the fixin's."
He removed his hat, and taking down a big oil-cloth apron, checked red
and black, tied it about his ample waist. He reached up and drew from
behind the clock a pair of spectacles in steel bows. He adjusted them to
his blue eyes with a little frown. "They're a terrible bother," he said,
squinting through them and readjusting them. "But I don't dare resk
it without. I got hold of the pepper-box last time. Thought it was the
salt--
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THE RIVER OF LIFE
THE RIVER OF LIFE
AND OTHER STORIES
BY
ALEXANDER KUPRIN
TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY
S. KOTELIANSKY AND J. M. MURRY
JOHN W. LUCE AND COMPANY
BOSTON
1916
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
Alexander Kuprin was born in 1870. He attended the Cadet School and
the Military College at Moscow, and entered the Russian Army as a
lieutenant in 1890. Seven years later he resigned his commission to
devote himself to literature.
He achieved fame by a novel, _The Duel_, in which he described with
a ruthless realism the army life in a garrison town upon the Western
Frontier. The book, which in reality falls into line with the rest of
his work as a severely objective presentation of a life which he has
found vivid and rich, was, fortunately for his success, interpreted
as an indictment of the Russian Army and the ill-starred Manchurian
campaign. He was accepted by the propagandists as one of themselves,
and though he protested vigorously against his unsought reputation, his
position was thenceforward assured.
But the interest of Kuprin’s talent is independent of the accidents
of his material. He is an artist who has found life wide and rich and
inexhaustible. He has been fascinated by the reality itself rather
than by the problems with which it confronts a differently sensitive
mind. Therefore he has not held himself aloof, but plunged into the
riotous waters of the River of Life. He has swum with the stream and
battled against it as the mood turned in him; and he has emerged with
stories of the joy he has found in his own eager acceptance. Thus
Kuprin is alive as none of his contemporaries is alive, and his stories
are stories told for the delight of the telling and of the tale.
They may not be profound with the secrets of the universe; but they
are, within their compass, shaped by the perfect art of one to whom
the telling of a story of life is an exercise of his whole being in
complete harmony with the act of life itself.
J. M. M.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE RIVER OF LIFE 1
II
CAPTAIN RIBNIKOV 37
III
THE OUTRAGE 99
IV
THE WITCH 127
I
THE RIVER OF LIFE
I
The landlady’s room in the ‘Serbia.’ Yellow wallpaper; two windows
with dirty muslin curtains; between them an oval squinting mirror,
stuck at an angle of forty-five degrees, reflects a painted floor and
chair legs; on the window-sills dusty, pimply cactuses; a cage with
a canary hangs from the ceiling. The room is partitioned off by red
screens of printed calico: the smaller part on the left is the bedroom
of the landlady and her children; that on the right is blocked up with
varied odds and ends of furniture--bedridden, rickety, and lame. In the
corners all kinds of rubbish are in chaotic cobwebbed heaps: a sextant
in a ginger leather case, and with it a tripod and a chain, some old
trunks and boxes, a guitar without strings, hunting boots, a sewing
machine, a ‘Monopan’ musical box, a camera, about five lamps, piles of
books, dresses, bundles of linen, and a great many things besides. All
these things had been detained at various times by the landlady for
rent unpaid, or left behind by runaway lodgers. You cannot move in the
room because of them.
The ‘Serbia’ is a third-rate hotel. Permanent lodgers are a rarity, and
those are prostitutes. Mostly they are casual passengers who float
up to town on the Dnieper: small farmers, Jewish commission agents,
distant provincials, pilgrims, and village priests who come to town to
inform, or are returning home when the information has been lodged.
Rooms in the ‘Serbia’ are also occupied by couples from the town for
the night
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The Project Gutenberg Etext of Fromont and Risler by Alphonse Daudet, v1
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Project Gutenberg Etext of Confiscation, An Outline, by Greenwood
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Wild Man of the West, by R.M. Ballantyne.
________________________________________________________________________
The action of this book takes place entirely in the foothills of the
Rocky Mountains in North America. We can certainly appreciate the
hardness of the life of the hunters in those days, which were during the
early part of the nineteenth century. The action is very well narrated,
and is very exciting and interesting. All sorts of things are suddenly
pulled together in the very last few pages, and it would be quite hard
for the reader to guess what was going to happen, before the last two
chapters.
________________________________________________________________________
THE WILD MAN OF THE WEST, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.
CHAPTER ONE.
IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO A MAD HERO, A RECKLESS LOVER, AND A
RUNAWAY HUSBAND--BACKWOODS JUVENILE TRAINING DESCRIBED--THE PRINCIPLES
OF FIGHTING FULLY DISCUSSED, AND SOME VALUABLE HINTS THROWN OUT.
March Marston was mad! The exact state of madness to which March had
attained at the age when we take up his personal history--namely,
sixteen--is uncertain, for the people of the backwoods settlement in
which he dwelt differed in their opinions on that point.
The clergyman, who was a Wesleyan, said he was as wild as a young
buffalo bull; but the manner in which he said so led his hearers to
conclude that he did not think such a state of ungovernable madness to
be a hopeless condition, by any means. The doctor said he was as mad as
a hatter; but this was an indefinite remark, worthy of a doctor who had
never obtained a diploma, and required explanation, inasmuch as it was
impossible to know _how_ mad he considered a hatter to be. Some of the
trappers who came to the settlement for powder and lead, said he was as
mad as a grisly bear with a whooping-cough--a remark which, if true,
might tend to throw light on the diseases to which the grisly bear is
liable, but which failed to indicate to any one, except perhaps
trappers, the extent of young Marston's madness. The carpenter and the
blacksmith of the place--who were fast friends and had a pitched battle
only once a month, or twice at most--agreed in saying that he was as mad
as a wild-cat. In short, every one asserted stoutly that the boy was
mad, with the exception of the women of the settlement, who thought him
a fine, bold, handsome fellow; and his own mother, who thought him a
paragon of perfection, and who held the opinion (privately) that, in the
wide range of the habitable globe there was not another like him--and
she was not far wrong!
Now, the whole and sole reason why March Marston was thus deemed a
madman, was that he displayed an insane tendency, at all times and in
all manners, to break his own neck, or to make away with himself in some
similarly violent and uncomfortable manner.
There was not a fence in the whole countryside that March had not bolted
over at full gallop, or ridden crash through if he could not go over it.
There was not a tree within a circuit of four miles from the top of
which he had not fallen. There was not a pond or pool in the
neighbourhood into which he had not soused at some period of his stormy
juvenile career, and there was not a big boy whom he had not fought and
thrashed--or been thrashed by--scores of times.
But for all this March had not a single enemy. He did his companions
many a kind turn; never an unkind one. He fought for love, not for
hatred. He loved a dog--if any one kicked it, he fought him. He loved
a little boy--if any one was cruel to that little boy, he fought him.
He loved fair play--if any one was guilty of foul play, he fought him.
When he was guilty of foul play himself (as was sometimes the case, for
who is perfect?) he felt inclined to jump out of his own body and turn
about and thrash himself! And he would have done so often, had it been
practicable. Yes, there is no doubt whatever about it March Marston was
mad--as mad, after a fashion, as any creature, human or otherwise, you
choose to name.
Young Marston's mother was a handsome, stout, blue-eyed, flaxen-haired
woman, of a little over thirty-five summers. She was an English
emigrant, and had, seventeen years before the time we write of settled
at Pine Point, on the banks of the Yellowstone River, along with her
brother, the blacksmith above referred to. At that time she was the
sweetest maiden in all the village, and now she was the handsomest
matron. Indeed, the bloom of her youth remained on her cheeks so little
impaired that she was often mistaken by strangers for March Marston's
elder sister. The men of the place called her pretty widow Marston; but
she was not a widow--at least, they had as little ground for saying that
she was as they had for asserting that her son was mad. Mrs Marston
was peculiarly circumstanced, but she was not a widow.
The peculiar circumstances connected with her history are soon told.
Immediately after the arrival of the blacksmith and his pretty sister at
Pine Point settlement, a tall stout young stripling--a trapper--about a
year older than herself, fell deeply in love with Mary West--that being
Mrs Marston's maiden name. The young trapper's case was desperate. He
sank at once so deep into the profundities of love, that no deep-sea
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THE SORCERESS.
THE SORCERESS.
A Novel.
BY
MRS. OLIPHANT,
AUTHOR OF
“THE CHRONICLES OF CARLINGFORD,”
“THE CUCKOO IN THE NEST,”
ETC., ETC.
_IN THREE VOLUMES._
VOL. I.
LONDON:
F. V. WHITE & Co.,
31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C.
1893.
(_ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_)
PRINTED BY
TILLOTSON AND SON, BOLTON,
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BERLIN.
THE SORCERESS.
CHAPTER I.
It was the most exciting event which had ever occurred in the family,
and everything was affected by it.
Imagine to yourselves such a young family, all in the very heyday of
life, parents and children alike. It is true that Mrs. Kingsward was
something of an invalid, but nobody believed that her illness was
anything very serious, only a reason why she should be taken abroad, to
one place after another, to the great enjoyment of the girls, who were
never so happy as when they were travelling and gaining, as they said,
experience of life. She was not yet forty, while Charlie was twenty-one
and Bee nineteen, so that virtually they were all of the same age, so to
speak, and enjoyed everything together--mamma by no means put aside into
the ranks of the dowagers, but going everywhere and doing everything
just like the rest, and as much admired as anyone.
To be sure she had not been able to walk about so much this time, and
had not danced once, except a single turn with Charlie, which brought on
a palpitation, so that she declared with a laugh that her dancing days
were over. Her dancing days over! Considering how fond she had always
been of dancing, the three young people laughed over this, and did not
take the least alarm. Mamma had always been the ringleader in
everything, even in the romps with the little ones at home. For you must
not think that these three were all of the family by any means.
Bee and Betty were the eldest of I can’t at this moment tell how many,
who were safe in the big nursery at Kingswarden under the charge (very
partial) of papa, and the strict and steady rule of nurse, who was a
personage of high authority in the house. Papa had but lately left “the
elder ones,” as he called them, including his pretty wife--and had gone
back to his work, which was that of an official at the Horse Guards, in
some military department of which I don’t even know the name, for I
doubt whether the Intelligence Department, which satisfies all the
necessities of description, had been invented in those days.
Colonel Kingsward was a distinguished officer, and the occasion of great
_éclat_ to the little group when he showed himself at their head,
drawing round him a sort of cloud of foreign officers wherever he went,
which Bee and Betty appreciated largely, and to which Mrs. Kingsward
herself did not object; for they all liked the clank of spurs, as was
natural, and the endless ranks of partners, attendants in the gardens,
and general escort and retinue thus provided. It was not, however, among
these officers, red, blue, green, and white--of all the colours in the
rainbow--that Bee had found her fate. For I need scarcely say it was a
proposal which had turned everything upside down and filled the little
party with excitement.
A proposal! The first in the family! Mamma’s head was as much turned by
it as Bee’s. She lay on the sofa in her white dressing gown, so flushed
with happiness and amusement and excitement, that you would have
supposed it was she who was to be the bride.
And then it was so satisfactory a thing all round. If ever Mrs.
Kingsward had held anyone at arm’s length in her life it was a certain
captain of Dragoons who had clanked about everywhere after her daughters
and herself for three weeks past. The moment they had appeared anywhere,
even at the springs, where she went to drink her morning glass of
disagreeable warm water, at the concert in the afternoon, in “the rooms”
at night, not to speak of every picnic and riding party, this tall
figure would jump up like a jack-in-a-box. And there was no doubt that
the girls were rather pleased than otherwise to see him jump up. He was
six foot two at least, with a moustache nearly a yard long, curling in a
tawny and powerful twist over his upper lip. He had half-a-dozen medals
on his breast; his uniform was a compound of white and silver, with a
helmet that literally blazed in the sun, and his spurs clanked louder
than any other spurs in the gardens. The only thing that was
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[Illustration: "Miss Cary has consented to become my wife."]
THE NATIVE BORN
or
THE RAJAH'S PEOPLE
by
I. A. R. WYLIE
1910
with Illustrations by
JOHN NEWTON HOWITT
PREFACE
In earlier days a preface to a novel with no direct historical source
always seemed to me somewhat out of place, since I believed that the
author could be indebted solely to his own imagination. I have learned,
however, that even in a novel _pur sang_ it is possible to owe much to
others, and I now take the opportunity which the despised preface offers
to pay my debt--inadequately it is true--to Mr. Hughes Massie, whose
enthusiastic help in the launching of this, my first serious literary
effort, I shall always hold in grateful remembrance.
I. A. R. W.
May 9th, 1910
CONTENTS
BOOK I
CHAPTER
I WHICH IS A PROLOGUE
II THE DANCING IS RESUMED
III NEHAL SINGH
IV CIRCE
V ARCHIBALD TRAVERS PLAYS BRIDGE
VI BREAKING THE BARRIER
VII THE SECOND GENERATION
VIII THE IDEAL
IX CHECKED
X AT THE GATES OF A GREAT PEOPLE
XI WITHIN THE GATES
XII THE WHITE HAND
XIII THE ROAD CLEAR
XIV IN WHICH MANY THINGS ARE BROKEN
XV THE GREAT HEALER
XVI FATE
XVII FALSE LIGHT
BOOK II
I BUILDING THE CATHEDRAL
II CATASTROPHE
III A FAREWELL
IV STAFFORD INTERVENES
V MURDER
VI CLEARING AWAY THE RUBBISH
VII IN THE TEMPLE OF VISHNU
VIII FACE TO FACE
IX HALF-LIGHT
X TRAVERS
XI IN THE HOUR OF NEED
XII HIS OWN PEOPLE
XIII ENVOI
THE NATIVE BORN
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
WHICH IS A PROLOGUE
The woman lying huddled on the couch turned her face to the wall and
covered it with her hands in a burst of uncontrollable horror.
"Oh, that dreadful light!" she moaned. "If it would only go out! It will
send me mad. Oh, if it would only go out--only go out!"
Her companion made no immediate answer. She stood by the wall, her
shoulders slightly hunched, her hands clasped before her in an attitude of
fixed, sullen defiance. What her features expressed it was impossible to
tell, since they were hidden by the deep shadow in which she had taken up
her position. The rest of the apartment was lit with a grey, ghostly
light, the reflection from the courtyard, in part visible through the open
doorway, and which lay bathed in all the brilliancy of a full Indian moon.
"When the light goes out, it will mean that the end has come," she said at
last. "Do you know that, Christine?"
"Yes, I know it," the other answered piteously; "but that's what I
want--the end. I am not afraid to die. I know Harry will be there. He will
not let it be too hard for me. It's the suspense I can not bear. The
suspense is worse than death. I have died a dozen times tonight, and
suffered as I am sure God will not let us suffer."
Margaret Caruthers bent over the cowering figure with the sympathy which
education provides when the heart fails to perform its office. There was,
indeed, little tenderness in the hand which passed lightly over Christine
Stafford's feverish forehead.
"You give God credit for a good deal," she said indifferently. "If the
light troubles you, shall I shut the door?"
Christine sprang half upright.
"No!" she cried sharply. "No! I should still see it. Even when I cover my
face--so--I can still see it flickering. And then there is the darkness,
and in the darkness, faces--little John's face. Oh, my little fellow, what
will become of you!" She began to cry softly, but no longer with fear.
Love and pity had struggled up out of the chaos of her despair, rising
above even the mighty instinct of self-preservation. Margaret's hand
ceased from its mechanical act of consolation.
"Be thankful that he is not here," she said.
"I am thankful--but the thought of him makes death harder. It will hurt
him so."
"No one is indispensable in this world."
Christine turned her haggard, tear-stained face to the moonlight.
"How hard you are!" she said wonderingly. "You, too, have your little girl
to think of, but even with the end so close--even knowing that we shall
never see our loved ones again--you are still hard."
"I have no loved ones, and life has taught me to be hard. Why should death
soften me?" was the cold answer. Both women relapsed into silence. Always
strangers to each other, a common danger had not served to break down the
barrier between them. Christine now lay quiet and calm, her hands
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THE SEINERS
by
JAMES B. CONNOLLY
Author of "Out of Gloucester," "Jeb Hutton," Etc.
[Illustration: IT WAS THE FINEST KIND OF EXCITEMENT, OUR RUNNING TO
HARBOR]
Charles Scribner's Sons
New York 1910
Copyright, 1904, by
Charles Scribner's Sons
Published, May, 1904
CONTENTS
I. THE NEW VESSEL OF WITHROW'S 1
II. A LITTLE JOG ALONG THE DOCKS 8
III. MINNIE ARKELL 16
IV. LITTLE JOHNNIE DUNCAN STANDS EXAMINATION 27
V. FROM OUT OF CROW'S NEST 35
VI. MAURICE BLAKE GETS A VESSEL 43
VII. CLANCY CROSSES MINNIE ARKELL 51
VIII. THE SEINING FLEET PUTS OUT TO SEA 61
IX. MACKEREL 70
X. WE LOSE OUR SEINE 82
XI. AN OVER-NIGHT BREEZE 87
XII. THE FLEET RUNS TO HARBOR 99
XIII. WESLEY MARRS BRINGS A MESSAGE 119
XIV. A PROSPECT OF NIGHT-SEINING 123
XV. CLANCY TO THE MAST-HEAD 129
XVI. WE GET A FINE SCHOOL 137
XVII. A DRIVE FOR MARKET 144
XVIII. A BRUSH WITH THE YACHTING FLEET 153
XIX. MINNIE ARKELL AGAIN 159
XX. THE SKIPPER PUTS FOR HOME 172
XXI. SEINERS' WORK 175
XXII. ON THE CAPE SHORE 184
XXIII. DRESSING DOWN 193
XXIV. THE WITHROW OUTSAILS THE DUNCAN 202
XXV. TROUBLE WITH THE DOMINION CUTTERS 206
XXVI. THE GOSSIP IN GLOUCESTER 211
XXVII. IN CLANCY'S BOARDING-HOUSE 217
XXVIII. IN THE ARKELL KITCHEN 220
XXIX. MAURICE BLAKE COMES HOME 230
XXX. THE MORNING OF THE RACE 235
XXXI. THE START OF THE RACE 243
XXXII. O'DONNELL CARRIES AWAY BOTH MASTS 250
XXXIII. THE ABLE JOHNNIE DUNCAN 257
XXXIV. MINNIE ARKELL ONCE MORE 265
XXXV. CLANCY LAYS DOWN THE LAW 271
XXXVI. MAURICE BLAKE IS RECALLED 281
XXXVII. THE GIRL IN CANSO 289
XXXVIII. THE DUNCAN GOES TO THE WEST'ARD 297
XXXIX. THE HEART OF CLANCY 309
THE SEINERS
THE SEINERS
I
THE NEW VESSEL OF WITHROW'S
It was only a few days before this that the new vessel of Mr.
Withrow's, built by him, as everybody supposed, for Maurice Blake, had
been towed around from Essex, and I remember how Maurice stood on the
dock that afternoon and looked her over.
There was not a bolt or a plank or a seam in her whole hull, not a
square inch inside or out, that he had not been over half a dozen
times while she was on the stocks; but now he had to look her over
again, and as he looked his eyes took on a shine. She had been
designed by a man famous the world over, and was intended to beat
anything that ever sailed past Eastern Point.
She certainly was a great-looking model of a vessel, and "If she only
sails and handles half so well as she looks, she'll do for me," said
Maurice. "Yes, sir, and if she's up to what I think she ought to be, I
wouldn't be afraid to bet my
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[Illustration: CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL
OF
POPULAR
LITERATURE,
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A Complete
Classified List of Books
Pamphlets, Etc., Published Exclusively by
The Open Court Publishing Co.
Including also a few valuable importations.
With Author and Title Index October, 1905
[Illustration: ΗΘΟΣ ΑΝΘΡΩΠΩι ΔΑΙΜΩΝ
“Character is man’s destiny.”]
_CONTENTS_
PAGE
BIOLOGY, EVOLUTION, ETC. 2
MATHEMATICS, MECHANICS, PHYSICS 3, 4
PHILOSOPHY, PSYCHOLOGY AND LANGUAGE 4, 5, 6
HISTORY OF RELIGION & ORIENTAL WORKS 6, 7, 8, 9
ETHICS AND RELIGION 9, 10
FICTION AND MISCELLANEOUS WORKS 10, 11
THE RELIGION OF SCIENCE LIBRARY 11, 12, 13, 14, 15
The Open Court Publishing Company, 1322 Wabash Ave., Chicago
London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co., Ltd.
TITLE LIST OF THE OPEN COURT PUBLICATIONS, WITH AUTHOR and TITLE INDEX,
PRICES and ORDER NUMBERS
Biology, Evolution, Etc.
COPE, E. D., Ph. D.
=219. THE PRIMARY FACTORS OF ORGANIC EVOLUTION=, by E. D. Cope, Ph. D.,
Member of the United States National Academy of Sciences; Professor of
Zoölogy and Comparative Anatomy in the University of Pennsylvania. Second
edition. 1904. 121 illustrations. Pp. 550. Cloth $2.00 net. (10s.).
DE VRIES, HUGO
=332. SPECIES AND VARIETIES, THEIR ORIGIN BY MUTATION=, Lectures delivered
at the University of California by Hugo de Vries, Professor of Botany
in the University of Amsterdam. Edited by Daniel Trembly MacDougal,
Assistant Director of the New York Botanical Garden. 1905. Pp. xviii.,
847. $5.00 net. (21s. net.)
=332a. FRAMING PORTRAIT OF HUGO DE VRIES=, Platino finish. Size, 10“×12”;
unmounted. Price, postpaid, $1.00. (4s. 6d. net.)
HUEPPE, DR. FERDINAND
=257. THE PRINCIPLES OF BACTERIOLOGY=, by Dr. Ferdinand Hueppe, Professor
of Hygiene in the University of Prague. Authorized translation from the
German by Dr. E. O. Jordan, Assistant Professor of Bacteriology in the
University of Chicago. 1899. Pp. xi., 465. $1.75 net. (9s.).
ROMANES, GEORGE JOHN, M. A., LL. D., F. R. S.
=240. AN EXAMINATION OF WEISMANNISM=, by George John Romanes, M. A., LL.
D., F. R. S., Honorary Fellow
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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
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A MASTER HAND
THE STORY OF A CRIME
BY RICHARD DALLAS
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
1903
Copyright, 1903
BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Published, August, 1903
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
[Illustration: "It is no use," he said; "I can see by the papers that
everybody thinks I am guilty."]
INTRODUCTORY
Twenty years have passed since the happening of the events, the history
and sequel of which I am going to relate. It is the tale of a crime
committed in one of the large cities of this country, and which,
baffling the authorities at the time, still remains a mystery to all but
myself and one other. Even now, at this late day, in deference to a plea
that bore the seal of death, I shall only write of it with such changes
of scene and names as I hope may prevent identification.
To me the history of this tragedy has always seemed convincing proof of
the insufficiency of circumstantial evidence, except where such evidence
is conclusive. I do not intend, however, to indulge in any abstract
discussion of that subject, but shall consider that I have sufficiently
fulfilled an obligation I owe to the law when I shall have submitted the
bare facts of this particular case as I know them to have occurred.
While the changes of scene and names which I shall allow myself may
involve some minor changes in the same line, I shall take no advantage
of the opportunity that may thereby be afforded to complicate or
exaggerate in any way the mystery that veiled the case, for to do so
would be to subvert my purpose; but shall adhere to a plain statement of
the facts, in every particular, as they successively discovered
themselves to me. That it will prove an entertaining tale I do not
promise, but that it will be a curious and interesting one I feel sure,
and especially so to those who by profession are brought in contact with
crime in its various phases.
CONTENTS
I.--A SOLILOQUY
II.--A GAME OF CARDS
III.--A TRAGEDY
IV.--THE SUSPECT
V.--THE INQUEST
VI.--THE INQUEST CONCLUDED
VII.--AN EVENING AT THE CLUB
VIII.--THE PROSECUTION AND THE PRISONER
IX.--A CLUE AND A CONFERENCE
X.--THE TRIAL
XI.--THE TRIAL CONCLUDED
XII.--AN EPISODE AND A DINNER
XIII.--THE TRUTH AT LAST
XIV.--THE DEATH OF WINTERS
A MASTER HAND
CHAPTER I
A SOLILOQUY
On a Monday evening in January, 1883, I had returned comparatively late
from work in the District Attorney's office in New York, and was in my
rooms at the Crescent Club on Madison Square, corner of Twenty-sixth
Street, making a leisurely toilet for dinner, when a note was brought me
from Arthur White. In it he asked me
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[Illustration: Cover]
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS
(Trade Mark)
Works of
ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
The Little Colonel Series
(_Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of._)
Each one vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated
The Little Colonel Stories $1.50
(Containing in one volume the three stories, "The
Little Colonel," "The Giant Scissors," and "Two Little
Knights of Kentucky.")
The Little Colonel's House Party 1.50
The Little Colonel's Holidays 1.50
The Little Colonel's Hero 1.50
The Little Colonel at Boarding-School 1.50
The Little Colonel in Arizona 1.50
The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation 1.50
The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor 1.50
The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding 1.50
The above 9 vols., _boxed_ 13.50
_In Preparation_--A New Little Colonel Book 1.50
* * * * *
The Little Colonel Good Times Book 1.50
Illustrated Holiday Editions
Each one vol., small quarto, cloth, illustrated, and printed in colour
The Little Colonel $1.25
The Giant Scissors 1.25
Two Little Knights of Kentucky 1.25
Big Brother 1.25
Cosy Corner Series
Each one vol., thin 12mo, cloth, illustrated
The Little Colonel $.50
The Giant Scissors .50
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The Quilt that Jack Built .50
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L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
200 Summer Street Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: "AUNT CINDY DARTED AN ANGRY LOOK AT HER SWORN ENEMY."
(_See Page 25_)]
The Little Colonel's Holidays
By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
Author of "The Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights
of Kentucky," "The Story of <DW55>," "The Little
Colonel's House Party," etc.
Illustrated by L. J. BRIDGMAN
[Illustration]
BOSTON L. C. PAGE
& COMPANY PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1901_
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
_Twelfth Impression, March, 1908_
TO
"The Little Captain" and his sisters
WHOSE PROUDEST HERITAGE IS THAT
THEY BEAR THE NAME OF A
NATION'S HERO.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE MAGIC KETTLE 11
II. THE END OF THE SUMMER 17
III. BACK TO THE CUCKOO'S NEST 31
IV. TO BARLEY-BRIGHT 46
V. A TIME FOR PATIENCE 60
VI. MOLLY'S STORY 74
VII. A FEAST OF SAILS 91
VIII. EUGENIA JOINS THE SEARCH 105
IX. LEFT BEHIND 116
X. HOME-LESSONS AND JACK-O'-LANTERNS 129
XI. A HALLOWE'EN PARTY 146
XII. THE HOME OF A HERO 164
XIII. THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING 180
XIV. LLOYD MAKES A DISCOVERY 200
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THE CURSE OF
POCAHONTAS
By WENONA GILMAN
HART SERIES NO. 102
Copyright 1895, by George Munro's Sons
Copyright, 1912 by The Arthur Westbrook Co.
Published by
THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY,
Cleveland Ohio, U. S. A.
THE CURSE OF POCAHONTAS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHAPTER I.
Mrs. de Barryos sat beside a window overlooking a dainty rose-garden,
the golden sunshine streaming over her, the balmly air lifting the soft
curls of dark hair that was artistically touched with gray. Her hands
were folded idly over a letter that lay in her lap--small hands that
looked as if they had never known the meaning of toil, they were pale
and thin, like the face of the woman to whom they belonged, for Mrs. de
Barryos was an invalid.
She had been pretty before her face acquired its present angles through
suffering; never beautiful, but pretty in a dainty, meaningless sort of
way; inoffensively pretty some people might have called her, for there
was no strength in it, nor character. Her eyes were innocent, wide-open
brown ones that were like those of an obedient child. Her chin was
decidedly weak, and about the mouth had grown with her age a sort of
querulous tremble, as if she felt that the world had used her unfairly,
and wanted all mankind to sympathize with and pet her because of it.
She was never known to miss an opportunity to tell people of all the
wretchedness that had been so bravely and uncomplainingly borne. She
had fancied for the past five years that death was imminent, that its
shadows lay across her threshold, and yet she was apparently as far
from it as she had been at the beginning of the five years.
There was another thing about Mrs. de Barryos' life of which she was
apparently as proud as of her illness and patience, and that was the
fact that she was a lineal descendant of the renowned Pocahontas, a
fact at which some people laughed; but it was an undisputed fact, all
the same, for the historical Indian maiden had given birth to one of
the grandfathers upon the maternal side, and the curling hair and
weakness of character had been inherited from the branch of the family
that should have imparted its strength.
And it was of that same ancestress that Mrs. de Barryos was thinking as
she sat there beside the window, her eyes mechanically following the
flitting movements of a graceful form in the garden that was bending
above the roses.
And surely the girl was beautiful enough to look upon.
It might have been easy enough to believe that there was the blood of
an Indian flowing through her veins, for the clear olive complexion,
the inky blackness of the hair, which still was not straight, the
touch of crimson in the cheeks, and the great velvet eyes might have
indicated it. There was a better explanation of it, however, in the
fact that her father was a Mexican.
After a little she came toward the window at which her mother sat, her
arms filled with the lovely crimson blossoms that fitted her dusky
beauty so royally, and seated herself upon the sill of the window,
dropping the roses about her in gorgeous profusion as she prepared to
bind them into a bouquet.
"Aren't they exquisite?" she asked, admiringly, her voice a full, rich
contralto that made music even of the most ordinary speech. "It seems
to me that I never saw them so fine before."
"I wish you would put them away!" exclaimed her mother, querulously.
"It seems to me, Carlita, that you are
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TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE
OR
THE CASTAWAYS OF EARTHQUAKE ISLAND
BY VICTOR APPLETON
AUTHOR OF "TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR-CYCLE," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR
BOAT," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE
BOAT," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
BOOKS BY VICTOR APPLETON
THE TOM SWIFT SERIES
TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR-CYCLE
Or Fun and Adventures on the Road
TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR-BOAT
Or the Rivals of Lake Carlopa
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP
Or the Stirring Cruise of the Red Cloud
TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT
Or Under the Ocean for Sunken Treasure
TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT
Or the Speediest Car on the Road
TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE
Or the Castaways of Earthquake Island
TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS
Or the Secret of Phantom Mountain
TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE
Or the Wreck of the Airship
TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER
Or the Quickest Flight on Record
TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE
Or Daring Adventures in Elephant Land
(Other Volumes in Preparation)
TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE
CONTENTS
I. AN APPEAL FOR AID
II. MISS NESTOR'S NEWS
III. TOM KNOCKS OUT ANDY
IV. MR. DAMON WILL GO ALONG
V. VOL-PLANING TO EARTH
VI. THE NEW AIRSHIP
VII. MAKING SOME CHANGES
VIII. ANDY FOGER'S REVENGE
IX. THE WHIZZER FLIES
X. OVER THE OCEAN
XI. A NIGHT OF TERROR
XII. A DOWNWARD GLIDE
XIII. ON EARTHQUAKE ISLAND
XIV. A NIGHT IN CAMP
XV. THE OTHER CASTAWAY
XVI. AN ALARMING THEORY
XVII. A MIGHTY SHOCK
XVIII. MR. JENKS HAS DIAMONDS
XIX. SECRET OPERATIONS
XX. THE WIRELESS PLANT
XXI. MESSAGES INTO SPACE
XXII. ANXIOUS DAYS
XXIII. A REPLY IN THE DARK
XXIV. "WE ARE LOST!"
XXV. THE RESCUE-CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
AN APPEAL FOR AID
Tom Swift stepped from the door of the machine shop, where he was at
work making some adjustments to the motor of his airship, and
glanced down the road. He saw a cloud of dust, which effectually
concealed whatever was causing it.
"Some one must be in a hurry this morning," the lad remarked, "Looks
like a motor speeding along. MY! but we certainly do need rain," he
added, as he looked up toward the sky. "It's very dusty. Well, I may
as well get back to work. I'll take the airship out for a flight
this afternoon, if the wind dies down a bit."
The young inventor, for Tom Swift himself had built the airship, as
well as several other crafts for swift locomotion, turned to
re-enter the shop.
Something about the approaching cloud of dust, however, held his
attention. He glanced more intently at it.
"If it's an automobile coming along," he murmured, "it's moving very
slowly, to make so much fuss. And I never saw a motor-cycle that
would kick up as much sand, and not speed along more. It ought to be
here by now. I wonder what it can be?"
The cloud of highway dirt rolled along, making some progress toward
Tom's house and the group of shops and other buildings surrounding
it. But, as the lad had said, the dust did not move at all quickly
in comparison to any of the speedy machines that might be causing
it. And the cloud seemed momentarily to grow thicker and thicker.
"I wonder if it could be a miniature tornado, or a cyclone or
whirlwind?" and Tom spoke aloud, a habit of his when he was
thinking, and had no one to talk to. "Yet it can hardly be that." he
went on. "Guess I'll watch and see what it is."
Nearer and nearer came the dust cloud. Tom peered anxiously ahead, a
puzzled look on his face. A few seconds later there came from the
midst of the obscuring cloud a voice, exclaiming:
"G'lang there now, Boomerang! Keep to' feet a-movin' an' we sho'
will make a record. 'Tain't laik we was a autermobiler, er a
electricity car, but we sho' hab been go
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[Illustration: THE CORRIDORS OF THE COURTS]
A PHILADELPHIA LAWYER
IN THE LONDON COURTS
BY
THOMAS LEAMING
_Illustrated by the Author_
SECOND EDITION, REVISED
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1912
COPYRIGHT, 1911,
BY
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
Published May, 1911
PREFACE
The nucleus of this volume was an address delivered before the
Pennsylvania State Bar Association which, finding its way into
various newspapers in the United States and England, received a
degree of favorable notice that seemed to warrant further pursuit of
a subject heretofore apparently overlooked. Successive holiday
visits to England were utilized for this purpose.
As our institutions are largely derived from England, it is natural
that the discussion of public questions and the glimpses of
important trials afforded by the daily papers--usually murder trials
or divorce cases--should more or less familiarize Americans with the
English point of view in legal matters. American lawyers, indeed,
must keep themselves in close touch with the actual decisions which
are collected in the reports to be found in every library and which
are frequently cited in our courts.
Nothing in print is available, however, from which much can be
learned concerning the barristers, the judges, or the solicitors,
themselves, whose labors establish these precedents. They seem to
have escaped the anthropologist, so curious about most vertebrates,
and they must be studied in their habitat--the Inns of Court, the
musty chambers and the courts themselves.
The more these almost unknown creatures are investigated, the more
will the pioneer appreciate the difficulty of penetrating the highly
specialized professional life of England, of mastering the many
peculiar customs and the elaborate etiquette by which it is governed
and of reproducing the atmosphere of it all. He will find that he
can do little but record his observations.
It was not unknown to him that some lawyers in England are called
barristers, some solicitors, and he had a vague impression that the
former, only, are advocates, whose functions and activities differ
from those of the solicitor; but he was hardly conscious that the
two callings are as unlike as those of a physician and an
apothecary. It requires personal observation to see that the
barristers, belonging to a limited and somewhat aristocratic corps,
less than 800 of whom monopolize the litigation of the entire
Kingdom, have little in common with the solicitors, scattered all
over England. The former are grouped together in their chambers in
the Inns, their clients are solicitors only, they have no contact,
perhaps not even an acquaintance, with the actual litigants and a
cause to them is like an abstract proposition to be scientifically
presented. The solicitors, on the other hand, constitute the men of
law-business, whose clients are the public, but who can not
themselves appear as advocates and must retain the barristers for
that purpose.
Again, it is difficult to grasp fully the influence exercised
through life by the barrister's Inn--that curious institution, with
its five hundred years of tradition--voluntarily joined by him when
a youth; where he has received his training; by which he has been
called to the Bar and may be disbarred for cause, and upon the
Benchers of which Inn he must naturally look as his exemplars,
although the Lord Chancellor may be
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Transcriber's Note
Illustration markers have been moved near to the text they illustrate.
All variant spellings and variant hyphenation have been preserved.
However, punctuation has been corrected where necessary.
[Illustration: HOW I TUMBLED DOWNHILL.]
THE LIFE STORY OF
A BLACK BEAR
BY
H. PERRY ROBINSON
LONDON
ADAM·&·CHARLES·BLACK
1913
FOREWORD
There is always tragedy when man invades the solitudes of the earth,
for his coming never fails to mean the destruction of the wild
things. But, surely, nowhere can the pathos be greater than when,
in the western part of North America, there is a discovery of new
gold-diggings. Then from all points of the compass men come pouring
into the mountains with axe and pick, gold-pan and rifle, breaking
paths through the forest wildernesses, killing and driving before them
the wild animals that have heretofore held the mountains for their own.
Here in these rocky, tree-clad fastnesses the bears have kinged it for
centuries, ruling in right of descent for generation after generation,
holding careless dominion over the coyote and the beaver, the wapiti,
the white-tailed and the mule-eared deer. Except for the occasional
rebellion of a mutinous lieutenant of a puma, there has been none to
dispute their lordship from year to year and century to century. Each
winter they have laid themselves
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A LITTLE MAID
OF
MASSACHUSETTS
COLONY
BY
ALICE TURNER CURTIS
AUTHOR OF
A LITTLE MAID OF PROVINCE TOWN
A LITTLE MAID OF NARRAGANSETT BAY
ILLUSTRATED BY WUANITA SMITH
THE PENN PUBLISHING
COMPANY PHILADELPHIA
1915
COPYRIGHT
1914 BY
THE PENN
PUBLISHING
COMPANY
[Illustration: "A WONDERFUL THING IS GOING TO HAPPEN"]
Introduction
The first Anne Nelson story was "A Little Maid of Province Town," which
told how the little Cape Cod girl's father went away to fight for the
colonies, how she went to live with the Stoddards, how she escaped
perils from Indians and wolves, made an unexpected trip to Boston, and
carried an important message for the colonial army.
The girls and boys who made acquaintance in that book with Anne and with
Amanda and Amos Cary will be glad to read here how Amos won his heart's
desire,--to go a long voyage from the harbor of Province Town; Anne's
journey with the Indians, her imprisonment in the house in the woods,
and her escape; how she and Rose Freeman discovered "Aunt Anne Rose" on
the happy trip in Boston, and how Anne helped to capture an English
privateer, will hold the attention of young readers, and, incidentally,
show them something of the times and history of Revolutionary days in
New England.
Contents
I. AMANDA'S MISTAKE 9
II. ANNE DECIDES 22
III. A NEW FRIEND 32
IV. WITH THE MASHPEES 48
V. AT BREWSTER 61
VI. AMANDA'S CONSCIENCE 75
VII. THE BLACK-BEARDED MAN 88
VIII. THROUGH THE WINDOW 104
IX. LADY DISAPPEARS 117
X. AUNT ANNE ROSE 131
XI. IN BOSTON 140
XII. A WONDERFUL DAY 149
XIII. ANNE'S BOOK 162
XIV. ANNE AND MILLICENT 173
XV. AMOS APPEARS 184
XVI. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 192
XVII. THE STRANGE SCHOONER 204
XVIII. A GREAT ADVENTURE 213
XIX. "HOMEWARD BOUND" 221
Illustrations
PAGE
"A WONDERFUL THING IS GOING TO HAPPEN"
_Frontispiece_
"SIT THERE AND BE QUIET" 42
"YOU CAN GET ON HIS BACK" 132
HE HANDED HER A BALL 177
"YOU ARE THE BRAVEST GIRL IN THE COLONY" 220
A Little Maid of Massachusetts Colony
CHAPTER I
AMANDA'S MISTAKE
"Do you think I might go, Aunt Martha?" There was a pleading note in the
little girl's voice as she stood close by Mrs. Stoddard's chair and
watched her folding the thin blue paper on which Rose Freeman's letter
was written.
"It is a pleasant invitation, surely," replied Mrs. Stoddard, "but the
Freemans have ever been good friends to us; and so Rose is to visit
their kin in Brewster and then journey back to Boston with her father in
his chaise, and she says there will be plenty of room for you. Well!
Well! 'Tis a wonderful journey."
Anne moved uneasily. "But, Aunt Martha, do you forget that she asks if
Uncle Enos cannot bring me to Brewster?"
"Yes, child, I have read the letter, and I doubt not Enos will set you
safe across to Brewster. And your father's vessel will be due in Boston
early in September, and he could bring you safely home to Province Town.
We'll see what Uncle Enos says about sailing across to Brewster," and
Mrs. Stoddard smiled affectionately at Anne's delighted exclamation. It
was two years before that Anne Nelson, whose father's boat had been
seized by an English ship, had come to live with the Stoddards. Her
father had escaped, and, after serving the colonies until after the
battle of Lexington, had returned to Province Town, and was now away on
a fishing cruise. Anne had visited the Freemans the year before, and now
this pleasant invitation for a journey to Boston had been brought by one
of the harbor fishermen, the only way letters came to Province Town. It
was no wonder Anne was eager for permission to go. It would be a three
days' ride from Brewster, and the road would take her through many
pleasant towns and villages. There was not a person in the settlement
who had taken the journey by land. Uncle Enos
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[Illustration:
ANDY HELPS THE INDIAN SQUAW TO CONSTRUCT THE WIGWAM.--_Page_ 225.]
CEDAR CREEK
_FROM THE SHANTY TO THE SETTLEMENT_
A Tale of Canadian Life
BY THE AUTHOR OF
'GOLDEN HILLS, A TALE OF THE IRISH FAMINE'
'THE FOSTER-BROTHERS OF DOON,' ETC.
LONDON
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
56 PATERNOSTER ROW, 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD
AND 164 PICCADILLY
MORRISON AND GIBB, EDINBURGH,
PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY'S STATIONERY OFFICE
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. WHY ROBERT WYNN EMIGRATED, 7
II. CROSSING THE 'FERRY,' 22
III. UP THE ST. LAWRENCE, 35
IV. WOODEN-NESS, 44
V. DEBARKATION, 52
VI. CONCERNING AN INCUBUS, 63
VII. THE RIVER HIGHWAY, 70
VIII. 'JEAN BAPTISTE' AT HOME, 78
IX. 'FROM MUD TO MARBLE,' 86
X. CORDUROY, 96
XI. THE BATTLE WITH THE WILDERNESS BEGINS, 105
XII. CAMPING IN THE BUSH, 115
XIII. THE YANKEE STOREKEEPER, 123
XIV. THE 'CORNER,' 133
XV. ANDY TREES A 'BASTE,' 138
XVI. LOST IN THE WOODS, 145
XVII. BACK TO CEDAR CREEK, 154
XVIII. GIANT TWO-SHOES, 166
XIX. A MEDLEY, 171
XX. THE ICE-SLEDGE, 180
XXI. THE FOREST-MAN, 186
XXII. SILVER SLEIGH-BELLS, 196
XXIII. STILL-HUNTING, 202
XXIV. LUMBERERS, 214
XXV. CHILDREN OF THE FOREST, 220
XXVI. ON A SWEET SUBJECT, 229
XXVII. A BUSY BEE, 235
XXVIII. OLD FACES UPON NEW NEIGHBOURS, 244
XXIX. ONE DAY IN JULY, 250
XXX. VISITORS AND VISITED, 259
XXXI. SUNDAY IN THE FOREST, 260
XXXII. HOW THE CAPTAIN CLEARED HIS BUSH, 274
XXXIII. THE FOREST ON FIRE, 280
XXXIV. TRITON AMONG MINNOWS, 291
XXXV. THE PINK MIST, 298
XXXVI. BELOW ZERO, 309
XXXVII. A CUT, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES, 315
XXXVIII. JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES, 324
XXXIX. SETTLER THE SECOND, 329
XL. AN UNWELCOME SUITOR, 338
XLI. THE MILL-PRIVILEGE, 343
XLII. UNDER THE NORTHERN LIGHTS, 351
XLIII. A BUSH-FLITTING, 359
XLIV. SHOVING OF THE ICE, 370
XLV. EXEUNT OMNES, 378
CEDAR CREEK.
CHAPTER I.
WHY ROBERT WYNN EMIGRATED.
A night train drew up slowly alongside the platform at the Euston Square
terminus. Immediately the long inanimate line of rail-carriages burst
into busy life: a few minutes of apparently frantic confusion, and the
individual items of the human freight were speeding towards all parts of
the compass, to be absorbed in the leviathan metropolis, as drops of a
shower in a boundless sea.
One of the cabs pursuing each other along the lamplit streets, and
finally diverging among the almost infinite ramifications of London
thoroughfares, contains a young man, who sits gazing through the window
at the rapidly passing range of houses and shops with curiously fixed
vision. The face, as momentarily revealed by the beaming of a brilliant
gaslight, is chiefly remarkable for clear dark eyes rather deeply set,
and a firm closure of the lips. He scarcely alters his posture during
the miles of driving through wildernesses of brick and stone: some
thoughts are at work beneath that broad short brow, which keep him thus
still. He has never been in
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THE TELEPHONE
By Professor A. E. Dolbear
_THE TELEPHONE_
With directions for making a Speaking Telephone Illustrated 50 cents
_THE ART OF PROJECTING_
A Manual of Experimentation in Physics, Chemistry, and Natural History,
with the Porte Lumiere and Magic Lantern New Edition Revised Illustrated
$2.00
_MATTER, ETHER, AND MOT
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A Singular Metamorphosis
By
May Evelyn Skiles.
Published in 1902.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A Mystery Intimated 5
II. She Demands an Explanation 13
III. The Advent of Ralph and a Rejected Proposal 26
IV. The Meeting 32
V. Misunderstandings Arise 44
VI. A Startling Revelation 52
VII. In Which Two Couples Take a Walk 69
A Singular Metamorphosis.
CHAPTER I.
A MYSTERY INTIMATED.
Miss Fiske had lived with the Tracys several years, and her incipient
curiosity concerning the mystery pertaining to their household was
becoming more obvious, for mystery there certainly was. At specific
periods of the year, when she advanced towards certain portions of the
old mansion, she had been deterred in her attempts to proceed. It was
not that she was more curious than the average mortal, but no matter how
devoid of innate curiosity one is, the mere fact that there is something
worthy of secrecy immediately produces as a natural sequence a suddenly
awakened interest and a consequent desire of exposition.
There were only three occupants of the home: the two Tracys, brother and
sister, and Miss Fiske, who had accepted the proffered home on the
death of her father, her only near surviving relative. It is true there
had been an intimation of loving services that might be rendered in
return, to the brother and sister, or, perhaps, she would not have
accepted so readily the proffered home without remuneration, though it
was evident that they needed none, and would have been sorely wounded by
any such offer. Miss Fiske could well have afforded something more
substantial than her presence. While the two families were not
consanguineous, there had been intermarriages, consequently, more than
feelings of friendship existed between them. Mr. Tracy seemed to the
girl of twenty-two almost like a father, guardian he had been till she
arrived at her majority.
Sometimes Adelina fancied her life similar to that portrayed by writers
of fiction, the old dwelling and its accompanying secretiveness all
tending to foster this belief. It is not my wish to leave the impression
that such a trivial circumstance could effect a radical transformation
in so sensible a young person as the one in question, nor did she linger
over these things to the detriment of better thoughts and occupations.
There were times, as already mentioned, when it was plain that her
presence in the western wing of the house would be an intrusion. The
cause of this, try as she would, could not be divined. Everywhere else
she was welcomed with joy, for both Harold and Mary Tracy had learned to
look upon her as the best gift vouchsafed to their isolated lives; not
that they had ever been really unhappy, except at rare intervals, but
for years they had held aloof from the social gatherings of Deanmouth,
deeming each other's society all-sufficient until the appearance of a
third person, who immediately upset that theory, in fact, rejuvenating
all that came into contact with her striking personality. Prior to her
arrival at Deanmouth, there had indeed been one who had succumbed to her
influence. Poor young fellow! He had so long brooded over her refusal to
be in turn influenced in like manner by him that his mind had gradually
become unbalanced. There had been an attack of fever; hence, the
combination of these simultaneous misfortunes--sickness and
disappointment--had resulted in the unhinging of a heretofore well
balanced mind.
Had he not been so weakened mentally and physically by this protracted
illness, this might never have occurred. With no vitality; indeed, no
wish to regain it, what else could have ensued? Miss Fiske was greatly
troubled, reproaching herself constantly, yet conscious of her inability
to act otherwise--at that time, anyway. Had there since been no regret
at the refusal of so great a love? Who will say? none knew of it
assuredly; her uniform cheerfulness precluding all thought of regret or
longing. Were there more resembling her, and thus endeavoring to
ameliorate the woes of others, how far would we be towards the
advancement of the evolution which is the outcome of our existence; but
far be it from me to intimate that there are not many who daily, hourly,
submerge all thought of self in the one desire of abetting others. Was
not that one of the ends for which we were created, else why permitted
to be companions to those with the same sensibilities as ourselves? Miss
Fiske had no notion of embittering her own life or that of others in
bew
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ALL'S FOR THE BEST.
BY
T. S. ARTHUR.
PHILADELPHIA:
1869.
CONTENTS.
I. FAITH AND PATIENCE.
II. IS HE A CHRISTIAN?
III. "RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE."
IV. NOT AS A CHILD.
V. ANGELS IN THE HEART.
VI. CAST DOWN, BUT NOT DESTROYED.
VII. GOOD GROUND.
VIII. GIVING THAT DOTH NOT IMPOVERISH.
IX. WAS IT MURDER, OR SUICIDE?
X. THE NURSERY MAID.
XI. MY FATHER.
XII. THE CHRISTIAN GENTLEMAN.
ALL'S FOR THE BEST.
I.
FAITH AND PATIENCE.
"_I HAVE_ no faith in anything," said a poor doubter, who had trusted
in human prudence, and been disappointed; who had endeavored to walk by
the lumine of self-derived intelligence, instead of by the light of
divine truth, and so lost his way in the world. He was fifty years old!
What a sad confession for a man thus far on the journey of life. "No
faith in anything."
"You have faith in God, Mr. Fanshaw," replied the gentleman to whom the
remark was made.
"In God? I don't know him." And Mr. Fanshaw shook his head, in a
bewildered sort of way. There was no levity in his manner. "People talk
a great deal about God, and their knowledge of him," he added, but not
irreverently. "I think there is often more of pious cant in all this
than of living experience. You speak about faith in God. What is the
ground of your faith?"
"We have internal sight, as well as external sight."
There was no response to this in Mr. Fanshaw's face.
"We can see with the mind, as well as with the eyes."
"How?"
"An architect sees the building, in all its fine proportions, with the
eyes of his mind, before it exists in space visible to his bodily eyes."
"Oh! that is your meaning, friend Wilkins," said Mr. Fanshaw, his
countenance brightening a little.
"In part," was replied. "That he can see the building in his mind,
establishes the fact of internal sight."
"Admitted; and what then?"
"Admitted, and we pass into a new world--the world of spirit."
Mr. Fanshaw shook his head, and closed his lips tightly.
"I don't believe in spirits," he answered.
"You believe in your own spirit."
"I don't know that I have any spirit."
"You think and feel in a region distinct from the body," said Mr.
Wilkins.
"I can't say as to that."
"You can think of justice, of equity, of liberty?"
"Yes."
"As abstract rights; as things essential, and out of the region of
simple matter. The body doesn't think; it is the soul."
"Very well. For argument's sake, let all this be granted. I don't wish
to cavil. I am in no mood for that. And now, as to the ground of your
faith in God."
"Convictions," answered Mr. Wilkins, "are real things to a man.
Impressions are one thing; convictions another. The first are like
images on a glass; the others like figures in a textile fabric. The
first are made in an instant of time, and often pass as quickly; the
latter are slowly wrought in the loom of life, through daily experience
and careful thought. Herein lies the ground of my faith in God;--it is
an inwrought conviction. First I had the child's sweet faith transfused
into my soul with a mother's love, and unshadowed by a single doubt.
Then, on growing older, as I read the Bible, which I believe to be
God's word, I saw that its precepts were divine, and so the child's
faith was succeeded by rational sight. Afterwards, as I floated off
into the world, and met with storms that wrecked my fondest hopes; with
baffling winds and adverse currents; with perils and disappointments,
faith wavered sometimes; and sometimes, when the skies were dark and
threatening, my mind gave way to doubts. But, always after the storm
passed, and the sun came out again, have I found my vessel unharmed,
with a freight ready for shipment of value far beyond what I had lost.
I have thrown over, in stress of weather, to save myself from being
engulfed, things that I had held to be very precious--thrown them over,
weeping. But, after awhile, things more precious took their
place--goodly pearls, found in a farther voyage, which, but for my
loss, would not have been ventured.
"Always am I seeing the hand of Providence--always proving the divine
announcement, 'The very hairs of your head are numbered.' Is there not
ground for faith here? If the word of God stand in agreement with
reason and experience, shall I
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CELEBRATED TRAVELS AND TRAVELLERS.
THE GREAT EXPLORERS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
LONDON: GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN'S SQUARE.
[Frontispiece: Map of the work which had to be done in the 19th
Century. _Grave par E. Morieu 23, r. de Brea Paris._]
CELEBRATED TRAVELS AND TRAVELLERS.
THE GREAT EXPLORERS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
BY JULES VERNE.
TRANSLATED BY N. D'ANVERS,
AUTHOR OF "HEROES OF NORTH AFRICAN DISCOVERY," "HEROES OF SOUTH AFRICAN
DISCOVERY," ETC.
WITH 51 ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY LEON BENETT, AND 57 FAC-SIMILES FROM EARLY
MSS. AND MAPS BY MATTHIS AND MORIEU.
[Illustration: Ship sailing near icebergs.]
London:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON,
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
1881.
[_All rights reserved_.]
TO
DR. G. G. GARDINER,
_I Dedicate this Translation_
WITH SINCERE AND GRATEFUL ESTEEM.
N. D'ANVERS.
HENDON, _Christmas, 1880_.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.
In offering the present volume to the English public, the Translator
wishes to thank the Rev. Andrew Carter for the very great assistance
given by him in tracing all quotations from English, German, and other
authors to the original sources, and for his untiring aid in the
verification of disputed spellings, &c.
THE GREAT EXPLORERS OF THE 19TH CENTURY.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS
REPRODUCED IN FAC-SIMILE FROM THE ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS, GIVING THE
SOURCES WHENCE THEY ARE DERIVED.
PART THE FIRST.
PAGE
Map of the work which had to be done in the 19th Century _Frontispiece_
Jerusalem............................. 10
Map of Egypt, Nubia, and part of Arabia _To face woodcut of Jerusalem_
Portrait of Burckhardt ...................... 14
"Here is thy grave"........................ 15
Merchant of Jeddah ........................ 22
Shores and boats of the Red Sea.................. 23
Map of English India and part of Persia.............. 31
Bridge of rope .......................... 31
"They were seated according to age"................ 36
Beluchistan warriors ....................... 37
"A troop of bayaderes came in" .................. 46
Afghan costumes.......................... 48
Persian costumes ......................... 52
"Two soldiers held me" ...................... 52
"Fifteen Ossetes accompanied me" ................. 59
"He beheld the Missouri" ..................... 64
Warrior of Java...................
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Transcriber’s notes:
In this e-text, paired underscores denote _italicised text_, and a
^ (caret) indicates superscripted text. Footnotes have been positioned
below the relevant paragraphs. A small number of spelling and
typographic errors have been corrected silently.
_Some Eccentrics
& a Woman_
_First Published in 1911_
[Illustration: A VIEW from the PUMP ROOM, BATH.]
_Some Eccentrics
& a Woman_
_By Lewis Melville_
_London_
_Martin Secker_
_Number Five John Street_
_Adelphi_
NOTE
Of the eight papers printed here, “Some Eighteenth-Century Men About
Town,” “A Forgotten Satirist: ‘Peter Pindar’,” “Sterne’s Eliza,”
and “William Beckford, of Fonthill Abbey,” have appeared in the
_Fortnightly Review_; “Charles James Fox” appeared in the _Monthly
Review_, “Exquisites of the Regency” in _Chambers’s Journal_, and
“The Demoniacs” in the American _Bookman_. To the editors of these
periodicals I am indebted either for permission to reprint, or
for their courtesy in having permitted me to reserve the right of
publication in book form. “Philip, Duke of Wharton” is now printed for
the first time.
LEWIS MELVILLE
_Contents_
PAGE
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY MEN ABOUT TOWN 13
SOME EXQUISITES OF THE REGENCY 47
A FORGOTTEN SATIRIST: “PETER PINDAR” 103
STERNE’S ELIZA 129
THE DEMONIACS 161
WILLIAM BECKFORD OF FONTHILL ABBEY 189
CHARLES JAMES FOX 219
PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON 253
INDEX 283
_List of Illustrations_
“A VIEW FROM THE PUMP ROOM, BATH” _Frontispiece_
_A Facsimile Reproduction of a Drawing by Richard Deighton_
SIR JOHN LADE _To face page_ 16
_From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_
THE PRINCE OF WALES " " 48
_From the Miniature by Cosway_
LUMLEY SKEFFINGTON " " 80
_From a Contemporary Miniature_
PETER PINDAR " " 112
_From the Painting by John Opie_
LAURENCE STERNE " " 144
_From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_
WILLIAM BECKFORD " " 192
_From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_
CHARLES JAMES FOX " " 224
_From the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_
PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON " " 256
_From a Contemporary Painting_
Some Eighteenth-Century Men about Town
When his Royal Highness George, Prince of Wales, afterwards George
IV., freed himself from parental control, and, an ill-disciplined lad,
launched himself upon the town, it is well known that he was intimate
with Charles James Fox, whom probably he admired more because the King
hated the statesman than for any other reason. Doubtless the Prince
drank with Fox, and diced with him, and played cards with him, but
from his later career it is obvious he can never have touched Fox
on that great man’s intellectual side; and, after a time, the royal
scapegrace, who would rather have reigned in hell than have served in
heaven, sought companions to whom he need not in any way feel inferior.
With this, possibly sub-conscious, desire, he gathered around him a
number of men about town, notorious for their eccentricities and for
the irregularity of their lives. With these George felt at home; but,
though he was nominally their leader, there can be little doubt that
he was greatly influenced by them at the most critical time of a young
man’s life, to his father’s disgust and to the despair of the nation.
Of these men the most remarkable were Sir John Lade, George Hanger
(afterwards fourth Lord Coleraine of the second creation), and Sir
Lumley Skeffington; and, by some chance, it happens that little has
been written about them, perhaps because what has been recorded is for
the most part hidden in old magazines and newspapers and the neglected
memoirs of forgotten worthies. Yet, as showing the temper of the times,
it may not be uninteresting to reconstruct their lives, and, as far as
the material serves, show them in their habit as they lived.
Sir John Lade,
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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
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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.
NUMBER 4. SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1840. VOLUME 1.
[Illustration: CAISLEAN-NA-CIRCE, OR THE HEN'S CASTLE.]
Our prefixed illustration gives a near view of one of the most
interesting ruins now remaining in the romantic region of Connemara, or
the Irish Highlands, and which is no less remarkable for its great
antiquity than for the singularly wild and picturesque character of its
situation, and that of its surrounding scenery. It is the feature that
gives poetic interest to the most beautiful portion of Lough Corrib--its
upper extremity--where a portion of the lake, about three miles in
length, is apparently surrounded and shut in by the rocky and precipitous
mountains of Connemara and the Joyce country, which it reflects upon its
surface, without any object to break their shadows, or excite a feeling
of human interest, but the one little lonely Island-Castle of the Hen.
That an object thus situated--having no accompaniments around but those
in keeping with it--should, in the fanciful traditions of an imaginative
people, be deemed to have had a supernatural origin, is only what might
have been naturally expected; and such, indeed, is the popular belief. If
we inquire of the peasantry its origin, or the origin of its name, the
ready answer is given, that it was built by enchantment in one night by a
cock and a hen grouse, who had been an Irish prince and princess!
There is, indeed, among some of the people of the district a dim
tradition of its having been erected as a fastness by an O'Conor, King
of Connaught, and some venture to conjecture that this king was no other
than the unfortunate Roderick, the last King of Ireland; and that the
castle was intended by him to serve as a place of refuge and safety, to
which he could retire by boat, if necessity required, from the
neighbouring monastery of Cong, in which he spent the last few years of
his life: and it is only by this supposition that they can account for
the circumstance of a castle being erected by the O'Conors in the very
heart of a district which they believe to have been in the possession of
the O'Flahertys from time immemorial. But this conjecture is wholly
erroneous, and the true founders and age of this castle are to be found
in our authentic but as yet unpublished Annals, from which it appears
certain that the Hen's Castle was one of several fortresses erected, with
the assistance of Richard de Burgo, Lord of Connaught, and Lord Justice
of Ireland, by the sons of Roderick, the last monarch of the kingdom. It
is stated in the Annals of Connaught, and in the Annals of the Four
Masters, at the year 1225, that Hugh O'Conor (son of Cathal Crovedearg),
King of Connaught, and the Lord Justice of Ireland, Richard De Burgo,
arriving with their English at the Port of Inis Creamha, on the east side
of Lough Corrib, caused Hugh O'Flaherty, the Lord of West Connaught, to
surrender the island of Inis Creamha, Oilen-na-Circe, or the Hen's
Island, and all the vessels of the lake, into Hugh O'Conor's hands, for
assurance of his fidelity.
From this entry it would appear that the Hen's Island, as well as the
island called Inis Creamha, had each a castle on it previously; and this
conclusion is strengthened by a subsequent entry in the same Annals, at
the year 1233, from which it appears that this castle, as well as others,
had been erected by the sons of Roderick, who had been long in contention
for the government with Cathal Crovedearg, and his sons Hugh and Felim,
and had, during these troubles, possessed themselves of O'Flaherty's
country. On the death of Hugh O'Conor, who was treacherously slain by
Geoffry De Mares, or De Marisco, in 1228, they appear to have again
seized on the strongholds of the country, that of the Hen's Castle among
the rest, and to have retained them
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(OF 3)***
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Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS
VOL. II.
Printed by
Spottiswoode and Co., New-Street Square
London
IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS
With a Succinct Account of the Earlier History
by
RICHARD BAGWELL, M.A.
In Two Volumes
VOL. II.
London
Longmans, Green, and Co.
1885
All rights reserved
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAPTER XIX.
FROM THE ACCESSION OF ELIZABETH TO THE YEAR 1561.
PAGE
The Protestants rejoice at Elizabeth's accession 1
Dispute as to the O'Neill succession 2
Sussex Lord Deputy--the Protestant ritual restored 5
Parliament of 1560--the royal supremacy 6
Expectations of a Catholic rising 7
Attitude of France, Spain, and Scotland 8
Clearsightedness of Elizabeth 10
Desmond, Ormonde, and O'Neill 10
Reform of the coinage 12
Fitzwilliam Lord Deputy 14
Claims and intrigues of Shane O'Neill 15
Conciliatory attitude of the Queen 19
Shane O'Neill supreme in Ulster 21
CHAPTER XX.
1561 AND 1562.
Sussex completely fails in Ulster 23
He plots against Shane O'Neill's life 27
A truce with Shane 30
Who goes to England 32
Shane O'Neill at Court 33
The Baron of Dungannon murdered 38
Shane in London--he returns to Ireland 40
Desmond and Ormonde 41
Official corruption 43
CHAPTER XXI.
1561-1564.
Grievances of the Pale 46
Desmond and the Queen 48
Projects of Sussex 49
Elizabeth attends to the Pale 50
Shane O'Neill professes loyalty 51
Shane oppresses O'Donnell and his other neighbours 52
Sir Nicholas Arnold 57
Failure of Sussex 58
He attempts to poison Shane 64
Royal Commission on the Pale 65
Desmond and Ormonde 66
CHAPTER XXII.
1564 AND 1565.
Great abuses in the Pale 68
Extreme harshness of Arnold 73
Shane O'Neill in his glory 74
Shane's ill-treatment of O'Donnell 76
Shane and the Scots 79
Nothing so dangerous as loyalty 80
CHAPTER XXIII.
1565.
Desmond, Thomond, and Clanricarde 82
Ormonde will abolish coyne and livery 83
Private war between Desmond and Ormonde 85
Shane O'Neill and the Scots 89
Supremacy of Shane 90
Sidney advises his suppression 91
Desmond and Ormonde--Sidney and Sussex 92
Ireland is handed over to Sidney 94
Failure of Arnold 98
CHAPTER XXIV.
1566 AND 1567.
Sidney prepares to suppress Shane 102
Who thinks an earldom beneath his notice 103
The Sussex and Leicester factions 105
Mission of Sir F. Knollys 105
The Queen still hesitates 106
Shane's last outrages 107
Randolph's expedition reaches Lough Foyle 108
Sidney easily overruns Ulster 109
Randolph at Derry 110
Sidney in Munster--great disorder 111
Tipperary and Waterford 112
Horrible destitution in Cork 113
Sidney's progress in the West 114
Failure of the Derry settlement 115
Defeat and death of Shane O'Neill 117
His character 118
Sidney and the Queen 120
Sidney and Ormonde 121
Butlers and Geraldines 122
The Queen's debts 123
CHAPTER XXV.
1567 AND 1568.
Sidney in England--Desmond and Ormonde 124
Cecil's plans for Ireland 126
The Scots in Ulster 127
Massacre at Mullaghmast 130
The Desmonds--James Fitzmaurice 131
Starving soldiers 132
Miserable state of the North 133
Abuses in the public service 134
Desmond in London--charges against him 134
Charges against Kildare 138
Sir Peter Carew and his territorial claims 139
He recovers Idrone from the possessors 144
James Fitzmaurice's rebellion 145
The 'Butlers' war' 146
CHAPTER XXVI.
1568-1570.
Sidney's plans for Ulster 149
Fitzmaurice and the Butlers 150
Parliament of 1569--the Opposition 152
The Bishops oppose national education 155
Fitzmaurice, the Butlers, and Carew 156
Atrocities on both sides 161
Sinister rumours 161
Ormonde pacifies the South-East 162
Sidney and the Tipperary gentlemen 163
Sidney's march from Clonmel to Cork and Limerick 164
The Butlers submit 166
Humphrey Gilbert in Munster 167
Fitzmaurice hard pressed 168
Ulster quiet 169
CHAPTER XXVII.
1570 AND 1571.
The Presidency of Connaught--Sir Edward Fitton 170
Services of Ormonde 171
Thomond in France--diplomacy 172
Session of 1570--attainders and pardons 174
First attempt at national education 176
Commerce--monopolies--Dutch weavers 177
The Presidency of Munster--Sir John Perrott 179
Fitton fails in Connaught 182
Tremayne's report on Ireland 184
Ormonde in Kerry--services of the Butlers 184
Perrott's services in Munster 186
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FOREIGN INTRIGUES.
Fitzmaurice proposes a religious war 190
Catholics at Louvain--suspicious foreigners 190
Archbishop Fitzgibbon and David Wolfe 192
Fitzgibbon's own story 193
Philip II. hesitates 196
Thomas Stukeley 196
English and Irish parties in Spain 199
Ideas of Philip II. 201
Fitzgibbon, Stukeley, and Pius V. 202
Fitzgibbon negotiates with France and England 205
CHAPTER XXIX.
1571 AND 1572.
Want of money--Perrott and Ormonde 207
Perrott will end the war by a duel 209
Proposal to colonise Ulster--Sir Thomas Smith 211
Sir Brian MacPhelin O'Neill 213
Want of money--the army reduced 214
Fitton, Clanricarde, and Clanricarde's sons 216
Fitton driven out of Connaught 219
Perrott's activity in Munster 221
A mutiny 223
The Irish in Spain--Stukeley 225
Effects of the day of St. Bartholomew 227
Rory Oge O'More 227
Feagh MacHugh O'Byrne 228
Fitzwilliam cannot govern without men or money 229
CHAPTER XXX.
1572 AND 1573.
Smith's failure in Ulster 231
Submission of James Fitzmaurice 233
Treatment of the Desmonds in England 234
Walter, Earl of Essex 239
Alarm at his colonisation project 241
Essex proposes to portion out Antrim 242
Smith is killed 246
Perrott's government of Munster 248
Desmond escapes from Dublin 252
Wretched state of King's and Queen's Counties 253
Fitzwilliam and Fitton quarrel 254
Catholic intrigues 257
Failure of Essex 258
The Marward abduction case 261
CHAPTER XXXI.
1573 AND 1574.
Threatening attitude of Desmond 263
Fitzwilliam and Essex 268
Essex governor of Ulster 269
Essex powerless 272
Troubles of Lord Deputy Fitzwilliam 274
Evil condition of Munster 276
Essex and Desmond 278
Ormonde solemnly warns Desmond 281
Campaign in Munster--Desmond plots 283
Essex struggles on in Ulster 284
CHAPTER XXXII.
ADMINISTRATION OF FITZWILLIAM, 1574 AND 1575, AND
REAPPOINTMENT OF SIDNEY.
Essex wrongfully seizes Sir Brian MacPhelin 288
Violent disagreement of Essex and Fitzwilliam 290
The Essex scheme is finally abandoned 294
Profit _versus_ honour 295
Official corruption 296
Arrest of Kildare 297
The revenue--a pestilence 300
General result of the grant to Essex 301
The Rathlin massacre 301
Ulster waste--Sidney's advice 304
Bagenal's settlement at Newry 306
CHAPTER XXXIII.
ADMINISTRATION OF SIDNEY, 1575-1577.
Sidney and the Butlers 307
Ormonde and his accusers 308
Death and character of Carew 309
Sidney's tour--Leinster 310
Munster 312
Fitzmaurice in France 314
Sidney in Limerick, Clare, and Connaught 316
Sidney on the Irish Church 319
Troubles in Connaught--Clanricarde's sons 321
Sir William Drury Lord President of Munster 322
Essex in England 324
His return, death, and character 325
Leicester and Essex 326
Agitation in the Pale against the cess 327
The chiefs of the Pale under arrest 332
A composition agreed upon 333
CHAPTER XXXIV.
LAST YEARS OF SIDNEY'S ADMINISTRATION, 1577 AND 1578.
Lord Chancellor Gerard's opinions about the Pale 334
Drury's opinions about Munster 336
Maltby's opinions about Connaught 338
Rory Oge O'More 340
Rory is killed by the Fitzpatricks 344
Sidney's last days in Ireland 347
Character of Sir Henry Sidney 350
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE IRISH CHURCH DURING THE FIRST TWENTY YEARS OF
ELIZABETH'S REIGN.
The Queen aims at outward uniformity 353
See of Armagh--Adam Loftus 354
Papal primates--Richard Creagh 356
See of Meath--Staples 359
Other sees of the Northern province 360
Province of Dublin 361
Province of Cashel 364
Province of Tuam 367
Spiritual peers--Papal and Protestant succession 367
David Wolfe, the Jesuit 370
INDEX 373
_MAP._
IRELAND ABOUT 1570 _To face p. 149._
_Errata._
Page 46, line 2, for 1561 _read_ 1562.
" 47, headline, for 1561 _read_ 1562.
" 156, _for_ Archbishop of Ross _read_ Bishop of Ross.
" 173, _for_ Henry III. _read_ Charles IX.
" 283, _for_ Thomas Butler _read_ Theobald Butler.
" 367, _for_ Dermot O'Diera _read_ Cornelius O'Dea.
IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS.
CHAPTER XIX.
FROM THE ACCESSION OF ELIZABETH TO THE YEAR 1561.
[Sidenote: Accession of Elizabeth. Joy of the Protestants.]
The proclamation of Anne Boleyn's daughter can hardly have caused general
satisfaction in Ireland, but it was hailed with joy by Protestant
officials whose prospects had been clouded during the late reign. Old Sir
John Alen was soon in Dublin, whence he wrote to congratulate Cecil on
his restoration to office, and to remind him of his own sufferings under
Queen Mary. Thomas Alen, when reminding the new secretary of his great
losses, rejoiced that God had sent light after darkness, and that he and
his friends were going to have their turn. A sharp eye, he said, should
be kept on Sir Oswald Massingberd, who was suspected of a design to pull
down Kilmainham, lest its beauty and convenience should again attract the
Lord Deputy. Massingberd should be sternly restricted to his revenue of
1,000 marks, and the great seal should be transferred to a lawyer of
English birth. The prior was so far successful that Kilmainham soon
afterwards ceased to be a royal residence. He probably sold the lead, and
the damage being aggravated by a great storm, the commandery was not
thought worth repairing, and the chief governor's abode was transferred
to Dublin Castle. Sir Ralph Bagenal, formerly lieutenant of Leix and
Offaly, had been dismissed for denying the Papal supremacy, and had been
forced to seek refuge in France, where he lived by selling at a great
sacrifice a property worth 500_l._ a year. Queen Elizabeth gave him the
non-residence fines of twelve bishoprics; but there were legal obstacles,
and he begged for something more substantial. Staples, the deprived
Bishop of Meath, pointed out his griefs to Cecil, and thinking, no doubt,
more of the Queen than of his correspondent, complained that Pole had
made it a grievous article against him that he had presumed to pray for
the soul of his old master. Pole probably hated Henry VIII. enough to
wish his soul unprayed for, but the complaint is a very odd one from a
Protestant divine.[1]
[Sidenote: The limitations of the Tyrone Patent are disputed. Shane
O'Neill.]
Sidney, whom most men spoke well of, was confirmed in the office of Lord
Justice, and had soon plenty of work in the North. The old Earl of Tyrone
was sinking fast, and the horrors of a disputed succession were imminent.
Henry VIII. had conferred the Earldom on Con O'Neill for life, with
remainder to Matthew Ferdorogh O'Neill and his heirs male for ever. The
Barony of Dungannon was at the same time conferred upon the remainder
man, with a proviso that it should descend upon the heir to the Earldom.
Matthew's mother was Alison Kelly, and at the time of his birth she was
the wife of a smith at Dundalk. He was reputed to be Kelly's son until he
was sixteen, when his mother presented him to Con as his own child.
'Being a gentleman,' said his eldest son, 'he never refused no child that
any woman named to be his,' and he accepted Matthew with a good grace.
There was a Celtic law or doctrine that a child born in adultery should
belong to its real father, but there is no evidence to show that the rule
was actually binding in Ulster in the sixteenth century. Shane, the
legitimate eldest son, made a plain statement to the contrary, and
illustrated it by an Irish proverbial saying that a calf belongs to the
owner of the cow, and not to the owner of the bull. Matthew became a good
soldier, and Con was willing to have him for a successor. But as Shane
grew up he learned to oppose this arrangement, and, having good abilities
and boundless ambition, he was designated by a great portion of the clan
as successor to the tribal sovereignty. Shane oppressed his father, and
perhaps ultimately induced him to acquiesce in the popular choice; but to
make all safe, he took the precaution of murdering the Baron of
Dungannon, whose prowess he had reason to remember, and whom he had no
wish to meet again in the field. He steadily maintained that his victim
was the smith's son, and no relation; but the Irish annalists lend him no
countenance, for they remark that the deed was 'unbecoming in a kinsman.'
The Baron had left a young son, on whom his title devolved, and the
government were bound by the patent to maintain his ultimate rights to
the Earldom. It is uncertain whether Henry VIII. knew that Matthew
Ferdorogh was born while his mother lived in wedlock with the smith, but
probably he may be acquitted of having encouraged one of the worst Brehon
doctrines.[2]
[Sidenote: Strength of Shane's position.]
Yet Shane's case against the Government was a strong one; for it was not
disputed that his father had known the facts, and he was thus able to
contend that the King had been deceived, and that the limitation in the
patent was void. Besides, it was asked, why was not the Earldom given in
the usual way to Con and his heirs male? Whether Shane knew of the
above-mentioned Brehon regulation or not, it was his interest to affect
ignorance, to represent both his father and King Henry as the victims of
deception, and to take his stand on strict hereditary
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In Honor of Lisa Hart's 9th Birthday
THE SECRET GARDEN
BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
Author of
"The Shuttle,"
"The Making of a Marchioness,"
"The Methods of Lady Walderhurst,"
"The Lass o' Lowries,"
"Through One Administration,"
"Little Lord Fauntleroy,"
"A Lady of Quality," etc.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER TITLE
I THERE IS NO ONE LEFT
II MISTRESS MARY QUITE CONTRARY
III ACROSS THE MOOR
IV MARTHA
V THE CRY IN THE CORRIDOR
VI "THERE WAS SOME ONE CRYING--THERE WAS!"
VII THE KEY TO THE GARDEN
VIII THE ROBIN WHO SHOWED THE WAY
IX THE STRANGEST HOUSE ANY ONE EVER LIVED IN
X DICKON
XI THE NEST OF THE MISSEL THRUSH
XII "MIGHT I HAVE A BIT OF EARTH?"
XIII "I AM COLIN"
XIV A YOUNG RAJAH
XV NEST BUILDING
XVI "I WON'T!" SAID MARY
XVII A TANTRUM
XVIII "THA' MUNNOT WASTE NO TIME"
XIX "IT HAS COME!"
XX "I SHALL LIVE FOREVER--AND EVER--AND EVER!"
XXI BEN WEATHERSTAFF
XXII WHEN THE SUN WENT DOWN
XXIII MAGIC
XXIV "LET THEM LAUGH"
XXV THE CURTAIN
XXVI "IT'S MOTHER!"
XXVII IN THE GARDEN
THE SECRET GARDEN
BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
CHAPTER I
THERE IS NO ONE LEFT
When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle
everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen.
It was true, too. She had a little thin face and a little thin body,
thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair was yellow, and her
face was yellow because she had been born in India and had always been
ill in one way or another. Her father had held a position under the
English Government and had always been busy and ill himself, and her
mother had been a great beauty who cared only to go to parties and
amuse herself with gay people. She had not wanted a little girl at
all, and when Mary was born she handed her over to the care of an Ayah,
who was made to understand that if she wished to please the Mem Sahib
she must keep the child out of sight as much as possible. So when she
was a sickly, fretful, ugly little baby she was kept out of the way,
and when she became a sickly, fretful, toddling thing she was kept out
of the way also. She never remembered seeing familiarly anything but
the dark faces of her Ayah and the other native servants, and as they
always obeyed her and gave her her own way in everything, because the
Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed by her crying, by the
time she was six years old she was as tyrannical and selfish a little
pig as ever lived. The young English governess who came to teach her
to read and write disliked her so much that she gave up her place in
three months, and when other governesses came to try to fill it they
always went away in a shorter time than the first one. So if Mary had
not chosen to really want to know how to read books she would never
have learned her letters at all.
One frightfully hot morning, when she was about nine years old, she
awakened feeling very cross, and she became crosser still when she saw
that the servant who stood by her bedside was not her Ayah.
"Why did you come?" she said to the strange woman. "I will not let you
stay. Send my Ayah to me."
The woman looked frightened, but she only stammered that the Ayah could
not come and when Mary threw herself into a passion and beat and kicked
her, she looked only more frightened and repeated that it was not
possible for the Ayah to come to Missie Sahib.
There was something mysterious in the air that morning. Nothing was
done in its regular order and several of the native servants seemed
missing, while those whom Mary saw slunk or hurried about with ashy and
scared faces. But no one would tell her anything and her Ayah did not
come. She was actually left alone as the morning went on, and at last
she wandered out into the garden and began to play by herself under a
tree near the veranda. She pretended that she was making a flower-bed,
and she stuck big scarlet hibiscus blossoms into little heaps of earth,
all the time growing more and more angry and muttering to herself the
things she would say and the names she would call Saidie when she
returned.
"Pig! Pig! Daughter of Pigs!" she said, because to call a native a pig
is the worst insult of all.
She was grinding her teeth and saying this over and over again when she
heard her mother come out on the veranda with some one. She was with a
fair young man and they stood talking together in low strange voices.
Mary knew the fair young man who looked like a boy. She had heard that
he was a very young officer who had just come from England. The child
stared at him, but she stared most at her mother. She always did this
when she had a chance to see her, because the Mem Sahib--Mary used to
call her that oftener than anything else--was such a tall, slim, pretty
person and wore such lovely clothes. Her hair was like curly silk and
she had a delicate little nose which seemed to be disdaining things,
and she had large laughing eyes. All her clothes were thin and
floating, and Mary said they were "full of lace." They looked fuller of
lace than ever this morning, but her eyes were not laughing at all.
They were large and scared and lifted imploringly to the fair boy
officer's face.
"Is it so very bad? Oh, is it?" Mary heard her say.
"Awfully," the young man answered in a trembling voice. "Awfully, Mrs.
Lennox. You ought to have gone to the hills two weeks ago."
The Mem Sahib wrung her hands.
"Oh, I know I ought!" she cried. "I only stayed to go to that silly
dinner party. What a fool I was!"
At that very moment such a loud sound of wailing broke out from the
servants' quarters that she clutched the young man's arm, and Mary
stood shivering from head to foot. The wailing grew wilder and wilder.
"What is it? What is it?" Mrs. Lennox gasped.
"Some one has died," answered the boy officer. "You did not say it had
broken out among your servants."
"I did not know!" the Mem Sahib cried. "Come with me! Come with me!"
and she turned and ran into the house.
After that, appalling things happened, and the mysteriousness of the
morning was explained to Mary. The cholera had broken out in its most
fatal form and people were dying like flies. The Ayah had been taken
ill in the night, and it was because she had just died that the
servants had wailed in the huts. Before the next day three other
servants were dead and others had run away in terror. There was panic
on every side, and dying people in all the bungalows.
During the confusion and bewilderment of the second day Mary hid
herself in the nursery and was forgotten by everyone. Nobody thought
of her, nobody wanted her, and strange things happened of which she
knew nothing. Mary alternately cried and slept through the hours. She
only knew that people were ill and that she heard mysterious and
frightening sounds. Once she crept into the dining-room and found it
empty, though a partly finished meal was on the table and chairs and
plates looked as if they had been hastily pushed back when the diners
rose suddenly for some reason. The child ate some fruit and biscuits,
and being thirsty she drank a glass of wine which stood nearly filled.
It was sweet, and she did not know how strong it was. Very soon it
made her intensely drowsy, and she went back to her nursery and shut
herself in again, frightened by cries she heard in the huts and by the
hurrying sound of feet. The wine made her so sleepy that she could
scarcely keep her eyes open and she lay down on her bed and knew
nothing more for a long time.
Many things happened during the hours in which she slept so heavily,
but she was not disturbed by the wails and the sound of things being
carried in and out of the bungalow.
When she awakened she lay and stared at the wall. The house was
perfectly still. She had never known it to be so silent before. She
heard neither voices nor footsteps, and wondered if everybody had got
well of the cholera and all the trouble was over. She wondered also
who would take care of her now her Ayah was dead. There would be a new
Ayah, and perhaps she would know some new stories. Mary had been
rather tired of the old ones. She did not cry because her nurse had
died. She was not an affectionate child and had never cared much for
any one. The noise and hurrying about and wailing over the cholera had
frightened her, and she had been angry because no one seemed to
remember that she was alive. Everyone was too panic-stricken to think
of a little girl no one was fond of. When people had the cholera it
seemed that they remembered nothing but themselves. But if everyone
had got well again, surely some one would remember and come to look for
her.
But no one came, and as she lay waiting the house seemed to grow more
and more silent. She heard something rustling on the matting and when
she looked down she saw a little snake gliding along and watching her
with eyes like jewels. She was not frightened, because he was a
harmless little thing who would not hurt her and he seemed in a hurry
to get out of the room. He slipped under the door as she watched him.
"How queer and quiet it is," she said. "It sounds as if there were no
one in the bungalow but me and the snake."
Almost the next minute she heard footsteps in the compound, and then on
the veranda. They were men's footsteps, and the men entered the
bungalow and talked in low voices. No one went to meet or speak to
them and they seemed to open doors and look into rooms. "What
desolation!" she heard one voice say. "That pretty, pretty woman! I
suppose the child, too. I heard there was a child, though no one ever
saw her."
Mary was standing in the middle of the nursery when they opened the
door a few minutes later. She looked an ugly, cross little thing and
was frowning because she was beginning to be hungry and feel
disgracefully neglected. The first man who came in was a large officer
she had once seen talking to her father. He looked tired and troubled,
but when he saw her he was so startled that he almost jumped back.
"Barney!" he cried out. "There is a child here! A child alone! In a
place like this! Mercy on us, who is she!"
"I am Mary Lennox," the little girl said, drawing herself up stiffly.
She thought the man was very rude to call her father's bungalow "A
place like this!" "I fell asleep when everyone had the cholera and I
have only just wakened up. Why does nobody come?"
"It is the child no one ever
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Produced by Chuck Greif (This file was produced from images
available at Google Books)
GLASGOW
A
SKETCH
BOOK
by
John Nisbet
LONDON
ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
1913
DRAWINGS
1 George Square.
2 St. Vincent Place
3 George Street--from the East.
4 Buchanan Street--from the South.
5 Trongate.
6 Royal Exchange.
7 Clyde Trust Buildings.
8 Buchanan Street from the North.
9 The Cathedral.
10 The University--from S·w·.
11 Jamaica Bridge.
12 University--Old Doorway.
13 The Clyde.
14 The Art Galleries.
15 Kelvin Bridge.
16 The Graving Dock.
17 The Pearce Institute--Govan.
18 Bothwell Street.
19 Renfield Street.
20 The Savings Bank--Ingram St.
21 Free Church College Towers.
22 Art Galleries--Sculpture Hall.
23 Sauchiehall Street.
24 University--from West.
[Illustration: George Square.]
[Illustration: St. Vincent Place]
[Illustration: George Street--from the East.]
[Illustration: Buchanan Street--from the South.]
[Illustration: Trongate.]
[Illustration: Royal Exchange.]
[Illustration: Clyde Trust Buildings.]
[Illustration: Buchanan Street from the North.]
[Illustration: The Cathedral.]
[Illustration: The University--from S·w·.]
[Illustration: Jamaica Bridge.]
[Illustration
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Produced by David Widger
[Illustration: cover.jpg Cover]
[Illustration: spines.jpg Spines]
[Illustration: titlepage.jpg Titlepage]
ONE HUNDRED MERRIE AND DELIGHTSOME STORIES
Right Pleasaunte To Relate In All Goodly Companie By Way Of Joyance And Jollity
LES CENT NOUVELLES NOUVELLES
Now First Done Into The English Tongue By Robert B. Douglas
Various Authors
Edited by Antoine de la Salle
Illustrated by Leon Lebeque
Paris
Charles Carrington
13 Faubourg Montmartre
1899
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
STORY THE FIRST -- THE REVERSE OF THE MEDAL.
_The first story tells of how one found means to enjoy the wife of his
neighbour, whose husband he had sent away in order that he might have
her the more easily, and how the husband returning from his journey,
found his friend bathing with his wife. And not knowing who she was, he
wished to see her, but was permitted only to see her back--, and then
thought that she resembled his wife, but dared not believe it. And
thereupon left and found his wife at home, she having escaped by a
postern door, and related to her his suspicions._
STORY THE SECOND -- THE MONK-DOCTOR.
_The second story, related by Duke Philip, is of a young girl who had
piles, who put out the only eye he had of a Cordelier monk who was
healing her, and of the lawsuit that followed thereon._
STORY THE THIRD -- THE SEARCH FOR THE RING.
_Of the deceit practised by a knight on a miller's wife whom he made
believe that her front was loose, and fastened it many times. And the
miller informed of this, searched for a diamond that the knight's lady
had lost, and found it in her body, as the knight knew afterwards: so he
called the miller "fisherman", and the miller called him "fastener"._
STORY THE FOURTH -- THE ARMED CUCKOLD.
_The fourth tale is of a Scotch archer who was in love with a fair
and gentle dame, the wife of a mercer, who, by her husband's orders
appointed a day for the said Scot to visit her, who came and treated her
as he wished, the said mercer being hid by the side of the bed, where he
could see and hear all._
STORY THE FIFTH -- The Duel with the Buckle-Strap.
_The fifth story relates two judgments of Lord Talbot. How a Frenchman
was taken prisoner (though provided with a safe-conduct) by an
Englishman, who said that buckle-straps were implements of war, and who
was made to arm himself with buckle-straps and nothing else, and meet
the Frenchman, who struck him with a sword in the presence of Talbot.
The other, story is about a man who robbed a church, and who was made to
swear that he would never enter a church again._
STORY THE SIXTH --THE DRUNKARD IN PARADISE.
_The sixth story is of a drunkard, who would confess to the Prior of the
Augustines at the Hague, and after his confession said that he was then
in a holy state and would die; and believed that his head was cut off
and that he was dead, and was carried away by his companions who said
they were going to bury him._
STORY THE SEVENTH -- THE WAGGONER IN THE BEAR.
_Of a goldsmith of Paris who made a waggoner sleep with him and his
wife, and how the waggoner dallied with her from behind, which the
goldsmith perceived and discovered, and of the words which he spake to
the waggoner._
STORY THE EIGHTH -- TIT FOR TAT.
_Of a youth of Picardy who lived at Brussels, and made his master's
daughter pregnant, and for that cause left and came back to Picardy to
be married. And soon after his departure the girl's mother perceived the
condition of her daughter, and the girl confessed in what state she was;
so her mother sent her to the Picardian to tell him that he must undo
that which he had done. And how his new bride refused then to sleep with
him, and of the story she told him, whereupon he immediately left her
and returned to his first love, and married her._
STORY THE NINTH -- THE HUSBAND PANDAR TO HIS OWN WIFE.
_Of a knight of Burgundy, who was marvellously amorous of one of his
wife's waiting women, and thinking to sleep with her, slept with his
wife who was in the bed of the said tire-woman. And how he caused, by
his order, another knight, his neighbour to sleep with the said woman,
believing that it was really the tirewoman--and afterwards he was not
well pleased, albeit that the lady knew nothing, and was not aware, I
believe, that she had had to do with aught other than her own husband._
STORY THE TENTH -- THE EEL PASTIES.
_Of a knight of England, who
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Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
MADAME MIDAS
Fergus Hume
PROLOGUE
CAST UP BY THE SEA
A wild bleak-looking coast, with huge water-worn promontories jutting
out into the sea, daring the tempestuous fury of the waves, which dashed
furiously in sheets of seething foam against the iron rocks. Two of
these headlands ran out for a considerable distance, and at the base of
each, ragged cruel-looking rocks stretched still further out into the
ocean until they entirely disappeared beneath the heaving waste of
waters, and only the sudden line of white foam every now and then
streaking the dark green waves betrayed their treacherous presence to
the idle eye. Between these two headlands there was about half a mile of
yellow sandy beach on which the waves rolled with a dull roar, fringing
the wet sands with many wreaths of sea-weed and delicate
shells. At the back the cliffs rose in a kind of semi-circle, black and
precipitous, to the height of about a hundred feet, and flocks of white
seagulls who had their nests therein were constantly circling round, or
flying seaward with steadily expanded wings and discordant cries. At the
top of these inhospitable-looking cliffs a line of pale green betrayed
the presence of vegetation, and from thence it spread inland into
vast-rolling pastures ending far away at the outskirts of the bush,
above which could be seen giant mountains with snow-covered ranges. Over
all this strange contrast of savage arid coast and peaceful upland there
was a glaring red sky--not the delicate evanescent pink of an ordinary
sunset--but a fierce angry crimson which turned the wet sands and dark
expanse of ocean into the colour of blood. Far away westward, where
the sun--a molten ball of fire--was sinking behind the snow-clad peaks,
frowned long lines of gloomy clouds--like prison bars through which the
sinking orb glowed fiercely. Rising from the east to the zenith of the
sky was a huge black cloud bearing a curious resemblance to a gigantic
hand, the long lean fingers of which were stretched threateningly out
as if to grasp the land and drag it back into the lurid sea of blood;
altogether a cruel, weird-looking scene, fantastic, unreal, and bizarre
as one of Dore's marvellous conceptions. Suddenly on the red waters
there appeared a black speck, rising and falling with the restless
waves, and ever drawing nearer and nearer to the gloomy cliffs and sandy
beach. When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the speck resolved
itself into a boat, a mere shallop, painted a dingy white, and much
battered by the waves as it tossed lightly on the crimson waters. It had
one mast and a small sail all torn and patched, which by some miracle
held together, and swelling out to the wind drew the boat nearer to the
land. In this frail craft were two men, one of whom was kneeling in the
prow of the boat shading his eyes from the sunlight with his hands and
gazing eagerly at the cliffs, while the other sat in the centre with
bowed head, in an attitude of sullen resignation, holding the straining
sail by a stout rope twisted round his arm. Neither of them spoke a word
till within a short distance of the beach, when the man at the
look-out arose, tall and gaunt, and stretched out his hands to the
inhospitable-looking coast with a harsh, exulting laugh.
'At last,' he cried, in a hoarse, strained voice, and in a foreign
tongue; 'freedom at last.'
The other man made no comment on this outburst of his companion, but
kept his eyes steadfastly on the bottom of the boat, where lay a small
barrel and a bag of mouldy biscuits, the remnants of their provisions on
the voyage.
The man who had spoken evidently did not expect an answer from his
companion, for he did not even turn his head to look at him, but stood
with folded arms gazing eagerly ahead, until, with a sudden rush, the
boat drove up high and dry on the shore, sending him head-over-heels
into the wet sand. He struggled to his feet quickly, and, running up the
beach a little way, turned to see how his companion had fared. The
other had fallen into the sea, but had picked himself up, and was busily
engaged in wringing the water from his coarse clothing. There was a
smooth water-worn boulder on the beach, and,
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Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
_Doctor MEAD_’s
Short DISCOURSE
EXPLAIN’D.
BEING A
_Clearer_ ACCOUNT
OF
Pestilential Contagion,
AND
_PREVENTING_.
_Nec satis est dixisse, ego mira poemata pango._
[Illustration]
_LONDON_:
_Printed, and Sold by _W. BOREHAM_, at the
Angel in _Pater-noster Row_._ 1721.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
Dr. _MEAD’s_
Short Discourse
EXPLAIN’D.
Many and various are the Opinions about the Design, as well as about the
Meaning and real and true Sense of the short Discourse lately writ by
the Celebrated Dr. _Mead_, for preventing the Plague. The various Turns
of the Heads of different Men, their different Capacities, and the
Sublimity of the Doctor’s Style may, no doubt, occasion all this Variety
in understanding Him and his Book. Some, and if we may judge by the
great Run and Demand for his Book, the greatest Number of the People of
all Ranks expected some _Esculapian_, but easy Rules, whereby they might
govern and conduct their Life against so silent an Enemy as the
Pestilence, which walketh in Darkness. This seems to be more than a
_Conjecture_, because this great Demand ceas’d of a sudden, as the
Plague it self commonly does, after they found the Physician had no hand
in it, or that his Rules were locked up for the Favourites of his
Faculty. And as the People commonly make the best Judgment of Things
after a little Experience, so we find this Judgment of the Town
confirmed, by what his _Friends_, _Adepts_, and other _Officers_, who
only understand or declare what Dr. _Mead_ would have believed; and
accordingly they labour to declare, that the genuine Meaning and Design
of the Celebrated Doctor was, to give a Politick Account, how the Plague
may be staved off by Force of Arms.
I grant this Authority is very cogent; yet, on the other hand, if we
either consider the Title Page of the Book, the great Accurateness and
Veracity of Dr. _Mead_, as well as his signal _Humility_, I must crave
leave to dissent, at this time, from the Reports of these Men, tho’ they
carry his daily and hourly Orders: for how do such Reports sute all
those his known good Qualities, the last more especially. Can any Man
think it consistent with his singular Humility, to teach the Secretary
of State, what has been practised in our own and other Countries for
some hundred of Years: _Quarantines and Pest-Houses_, or if the Doctor
pleases, _Lazarettoes_, are not unknown to English Lawyers, nor English
Ministers. And therefore I think it much the fairest Course, to consider
the Discourse well, because it is short, and from thence to draw the
Sense of its Author.
To do all imaginable Right to Dr. _Mead_, we will begin with the
Title-Page, that nothing material may seem to be neglected. There we
find it is to be a Discourse concerning _Pestilential_ Contagion, and
Methods to prevent it. Turning next to the Dedication, he tells his
Patron that he rather chuses to _put down the principal Heads of
Caution, than a Set of Directions in Form_. This Head he seems to
suggest chiefly to consist in performing Quarantines, and other things
that may be collected from History. The next (Head I suppose) is
concerning the _suppressing Infection here_; which he tells us is _very
different from the Methods taken in former times among us, and from what
they commonly do abroad; but_ (as he very modestly perswades himself)
_will be found agreeable to Reason_. This Account differs very much from
the Rumours and Opinions now prevailing in the World; for we are to be
entertain’d with a preventing Method, as far as Physick and Politicks
extend, and on that Account cannot fail to be very new when finished;
because all former Accounts are very defective, the silent Attacks of
the Pestilence having been hitherto undiscover’d by all former
Physicians. And therefore is there any Person so hard-hearted, or so
stupid, that does not rejoyce and prick up his Ears at those ravishing
Expressions, who does not desire to be instructed in this Method of
preventing this unmerciful Enemy to Mankind. Come on then, and listen to
the Celebrated Dr. _Mead_, who brings Death to Pestilential Contagion;
as he is said to have promis’d while he was composing this Work. But we
will next follow Dr. _Mead_ into the Book it self, where we find that he
thinks it _necessary to premise somewhat in general concerning
Contagion, and the Manner by which it acts_. But alas! we are to meet
with nothing but Disappointments, so soon are we fallen from all our
Hopes and Expectations: Nothing to be found either of _Contagion_, or
the manner of its acting, tho’ the Title of the Book promises it, and
the first entring upon the Discourse declares it to be necessary; This
is the very Soul of the Book, the subject Matter upon which every thing
turns, the Cause of the Plague, and the Indication for preventing and
curing the Plague, are to be drawn out of it.
Besides, the most ancient and best Physicians knew nothing of Contagion,
and far less of _Pestilential Contagion_; Words only brought in by
Physicians in later times, and of Ignorance; and
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BY FORCE OF IMPULSE.
A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS.
BY
HARRY V. VOGT.
PRICE, 15 CENTS.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK:
HAROLD ROORBACH, PUBLISHER,
9 MURRAY STREET.
BY FORCE OF IMPULSE.
CAST OF CHARACTERS.
=MORRIS MAITLAND=, A Stern Puritan, with unbending will, whose word is
law.
=REGINALD MAITLAND=,--His Son; one of Nature's noblemen.
=HENRY LOWVILLE=, True as Steel; a little soured against the female
sex, and a hater of "fashionable society."
=RALPH MURDELL=,--A polished, smooth tongued scoundrel.
=COLONEL MORRELL=, A True Soldier, with a keen sense of duty.
=GEO. WASHINGTON DOLLERCLUTCH=, An Eccentric Lawyer of the "Old
School," who possesses a large, sympathetic heart.
=SAMMY DEWDROP=, The Son of a Millionaire; fresh from college, full of
romantic nonsense.
=ADOLPHUS SOFTHEAD=, His Chum, whose mental faculties have not kept
pace with his physical.
=CORIOLANUS WELLINGTON=, Who never smiles, and who thinks he was born
to fill a higher station in life than that of menial.
=ADRIENNE LOWVILLE=, A Proud, Impulsive Beauty, who loves not wisely
but too well.
=HILDA WALLACE=, Her Maid, whose birth is obscure. An innocent victim
of misplaced love.
=ANASTASIA MAITLAND=, A Gushing Maiden of Forty-five Summers; very
susceptible.
GUESTS, SOLDIERS, ETC., ETC.
SYNOPSIS.
=ACT I.= LOVE VERSUS IMPULSE.
=ACT II.= THE SEPARATION.
=ACT III.= DUTY VERSUS IMPULSE.
=ACT IV.= THE RECONCILIATION AND SEQUEL.
=ACT V.= DIVINE IMPULSE.
COSTUMES.
=MORRIS MAITLAND.=--ACT II.--Plain dark suit, white cravat, long haired
gray wig, quarter bald, close shaven face; change coat for long wrapper
in 3d Scene. ACTS IV. and V.--Plain gray business suit, light slouch
hat.
=REGINALD MAITLAND.=--ACT I.--Black dress suit, black slouch hat. ACT
II.--Dark traveling suit. ACTS III., IV. and V.--Uniform of a Private,
U. S. A. Cloak to throw over uniform in 4th Act.
=HENRY LOWVILLE.=--ACT I.--Rich hunting suit, gun, game bag, etc.
ACT II.--Uniform of a Recruiting Officer, U. S. A. ACTS III. and
V.--Uniform of a Captain, U. S. A.
=RALPH MURDELL.=--ACT I.--Black dress suit, silk hat. ACT II.--Genteel
sack suit, derby hat. ACTS III., IV. and V.--Uniform of a Major, U. S.
A.
=COLONEL MORRELL.=--Uniform of a Colonel, U. S. A.
=GEO. WASHINGTON DOLLERCLUTCH.=--ACTS I. and II.--Dark pants, dark
cutaway coat, white vest, high collar and cravat, white silk hat, nose
glasses, black crop wig, bald, close shaven face. ACTS III., IV. and
V.--Uniform of a Private, U. S. A. A cloak to throw over uniform in 4th
Act.
=SAMMY DEWDROP.=--ACT I.--Dark foppish suit, showy jewelry, stand-up
collar and flashy necktie, cane, glasses, silk hat with narrow brim,
red crop wig, close shaven face. ACT II.--White linen suit, small
brimmed straw hat with white band.
=ADOLPHUS SOFTHEAD.=--ACT I.--Dark frock suit, small derby hat,
very large stud in shirt front, heavy watch chain, large bouquet in
button-hole, blonde crop wig, close shaven face. ACT II.--Light sack
suit, straw hat with blue band. ACTS III. and V.--Uniform of a Private,
U. S. A. Change coat and cap in 3d Act for a Rebel's.
=CORIOLANUS WELLINGTON.=--ACT I.--Very seedy suit, a la shabby
genteel, long haired black wig. Change in last scene to tight-fitting
black suit, ruffled collar and cravat, white shoe guards, black
square-crowned hat. ACT II.--Same as
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Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.
THE STORY
OF THE INVENTION
OF STEEL PENS
WITH A DESCRIPTION OF
THE MANUFACTURING PROCESS BY
WHICH THEY ARE PRODUCED
BY HENRY BORE
LONDON
1890
In these days of Public Schools and extended facilities for popular
education it would be difficult to find many people unaccustomed to
the use of steel pens, but although the manufacture of this article by
presses and tools must have been introduced during the first quarter
of the present century, the inquirer after knowledge would scarcely
find a dozen persons who could give any definite information as to
when, where, and by whom this invention was made. Less than two
decades ago there were three men living who could have answered this
question, but two of them passed away without making any sign, and the
third--Sir Josiah Mason--has left on record that his friend and
patron--Mr. Samuel Harrison--about the year 1780, made a steel pen
for Dr. Priestley.
This interesting fact does not contribute anything toward solving the
question, Who was the first manufacturer of steel pens by mechanical
appliances? In the absence of any definite information, the balance
of testimony tends to prove that steel pens were first made by tools,
worked by a screw press, about the beginning of the third decade of
the present century, and the names associated with their manufacture
were John Mitchell, Joseph Gillott, and Josiah Mason, each, in his own
way, doing something toward perfecting the manufacture by mechanical
means.
The earliest references to pens are probably those in the Bible, and
are to be found in Judges v. 14, 1st Kings xxi. 8, Job xix. 24, Psalm
xlv. 1., Isaiah viii. 1, Jeremiah viii. 8 and xvii. 1. But these
chiefly refer to the iron stylus, though the first in Jeremiah--taken
in reference to the mention of a penknife, xxxvi. 23--would seem to
imply that a reed was in use at that period.
There is a reference to "pen and ink" in the 3d Epistle of John xiii.
5, which was written about A.D. 85, and as pens made in brass and
silver were used in the Greek and Roman Empires at that time, it is
probable that a metallic pen or reed was alluded to.
Pens and reeds made in the precious metals and bronze appear to have
been in use at the commencement of the present era. The following are
a few notable instances:
"The Queen of Hungary, in the year 1540, had a silver pen bestowed
upon her, which had this inscription upon it: _'Publii Ovidii
Calamus,'_ found under the ruins of some monument in that country, as
Mr. Sands, in the Life of Ovid (prefixed to his Metamorphosis)
relates. --_"Humane Industry; or, a History of Mechanical Arts," by
Thos. Powell, D.D.: London, 1661, page 61._"
This was probably a silver reed, and, from the locality in which it
was found, was once the property of the poet Ovid. Publius Ovidius
Naso was born in the year 43 B.C., and died 18 A.D. He was exiled at
the age of 30 to Tomi, a town south of the delta of the Danube. This
at present is in modern Bulgaria, but at the period mentioned was in
the ancient kingdom of Hungary.
From "Notes and Queries," in Birmingham _Weekly Post_, we take the
following:
"EARLY METALLIC PENS.---Metallic pens are generally supposed to have
been unknown before the early part of the last century, when gold and
silver pens are occasionally referred to as novel luxuries. I have,
however, recently found a description and an engraving of one found in
excavating Pompeii, and which is now preserved in the Museum at
Naples. It is described in the quarto volume 'Les Monuments du Musee
National de Naples, graves sur cuivre par les meillures artistes
Italienes. Texte par Domenico Monaco, Conservateur du meme Musee,
Naples, 1882,' and is in the Catalogue:
"' Plate I26 (v) Plume en bronze, taillee parfaitement a la facon de
nos plumes 0.13 cent.
"' Plate I26 (y) Plume en roseau [reed] trouvee pres d'un papyrus a
Herculaneum.'
"The former (v) is engraved to look like an ordinary reed pen,
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Produced by Espen Ore, Steve Henshaw, and Andrew Sly
MOON-FACE AND OTHER STORIES
By Jack London
CONTENTS
MOON-FACE
THE LEOPARD MAN'S STORY
LOCAL COLOR
AMATEUR NIGHT
THE MINIONS OF MIDAS
THE SHADOW AND THE FLASH
ALL GOLD CANYON
PLANCHETTE
MOON-FACE
John Claverhouse was a moon-faced man. You know the kind, cheek-bones
wide apart, chin and forehead melting into the cheeks to complete the
perfect round, and the nose, broad and pudgy, equidistant from the
circumference, flattened against the very centre of the face like a
dough-ball upon the ceiling. Perhaps that is why I hated him, for truly
he had become an offense to my eyes, and I believed the earth to
be cumbered with his presence. Perhaps my mother may have been
superstitious of the moon and looked upon it over the wrong shoulder at
the wrong time.
Be that as it may, I hated John Claverhouse. Not that he had done me
what society would consider a wrong or an ill turn. Far from it. The
evil was of a deeper, subtler sort; so elusive, so intangible, as to
defy clear, definite analysis in words. We all experience such things
at some period in our lives. For the first time we see a certain
individual, one who the very instant before we did not dream existed;
and yet, at the first moment of meeting, we say: "I do not like that
man." Why do we not like him? Ah, we do not know why; we know only that
we do not. We have taken a dislike, that is all. And so I with John
Claverhouse.
What right had such a man to be happy? Yet he was an optimist. He was
always gleeful and laughing. All things were always all right, curse
him! Ah I how it grated on my soul that he should be so happy! Other
men could laugh, and it did not bother me. I even used to laugh
myself--before I met John Claverhouse.
But his laugh! It irritated me, maddened me, as nothing else under the
sun could irritate or madden me. It haunted me, gripped hold of me, and
would not let me go. It was a huge, Gargantuan laugh. Waking or sleeping
it was always with me, whirring and jarring across my heart-strings like
an enormous rasp. At break of day it came whooping across the fields to
spoil my pleasant morning revery. Under the aching noonday glare, when
the green things drooped and the birds withdrew to the depths of the
forest, and all nature drowsed, his great "Ha! ha!" and "Ho! ho!" rose
up to the sky and challenged the sun. And at black midnight, from the
lonely cross-roads where he turned from town into his own place, came
his plaguey cachinnations to rouse me from my sleep and make me writhe
and clench my nails into my palms.
I went forth privily in the night-time, and turned his cattle into his
fields, and in the morning heard his whooping laugh as he drove them out
again. "It is nothing," he said; "the poor, dumb beasties are not to be
blamed for straying into fatter pastures."
He had a dog he called "Mars," a big, splendid brute, part deer-hound
and part blood-hound, and resembling both. Mars was a great delight to
him, and they were always together. But I bided my time, and one day,
when opportunity was ripe, lured the animal away and settled for him
with strychnine and beefsteak. It made positively no impression on John
Claverhouse. His laugh was as hearty and frequent as ever, and his face
as much like the full moon as it always had been.
Then I set fire to his haystacks and his barn. But the next morning,
being Sunday, he went forth blithe and cheerful.
"Where are you going?" I asked him, as he went by the cross-roads.
"Trout," he said, and his face beamed like a full moon. "I just dote on
trout."
Was there ever such an impossible man! His whole harvest had gone up in
his haystacks and barn. It was uninsured, I knew. And yet, in the face
of famine and the rigorous winter, he went out gayly in quest of a mess
of trout, forsooth, because he "doted" on them! Had gloom but rested,
no matter how lightly, on his brow, or had his bovine countenance grown
long and serious and less like the moon, or had he removed that smile
but once from off his face, I am sure I could have forgiven him for
existing. But no, he grew only more cheerful under misfortune.
I insulted him. He looked at me in slow and smiling surprise.
"I fight you? Why?" he asked slowly. And then he laughed. "You are so
funny! Ho! ho
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from the Google Print project.)
ARGUMENTS BEFORE THE COMMITTEE ON PATENTS
OF THE
HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES
ON
H. R. 11943,
TO AMEND TITLE 60, CHAPTER 3, OF THE REVISED
STATUTES OF THE UNITED STATES RELATING TO COPYRIGHTS.
MAY 2, 1906.
COMMITTEE ON PATENTS, HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES,
FIFTY-NINTH CONGRESS.
FRANK D. CURRIER, NEW HAMPSHIRE, _Chairman_.
SOLOMON R. DRESSER, PENNSYLVANIA.
JOSEPH M. DIXON, MONTANA.
EDWARD H. HINSHAW, NEBRASKA.
ROBERT W. BONYNGE, COLORADO.
WILLIAM W. CAMPBELL, OHIO.
ANDREW J. BARCHFELD, PENNSYLVANIA.
JOHN C. CHANEY, INDIANA.
CHARLES McGAVIN, ILLINOIS.
WILLIAM SULZER, NEW YORK.
GEORGE S. LEGARE, SOUTH CAROLINA.
EDWIN Y. WEBB, NORTH CAROLINA.
ROBERT G. SOUTHALL, VIRGINIA.
JOHN GILL, JR., MARYLAND.
EDWARD A. BARNEY, _Clerk_.
WASHINGTON:
GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE.
1906.
ARGUMENT (CONTINUED) ON H. R. 11943, TO AMEND TITLE 60, CHAPTER 3, OF
REVISED STATUTES OF THE UNITED STATES, RELATING TO COPYRIGHTS.
COMMITTEE ON PATENTS,
HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES,
_Washington, D.C., May 3, 1906_.
The committee met at 11 o'clock a.m., Hon. Frank D. Currier (chairman)
in the chair.
The CHAIRMAN. I have received a telegram regarding the bill now before
the committee from John Philip Sousa, which reads as follows:
NORTHAMPTON, MASS., _May 3, 1906_.
_The Chairman and Members of Congress_,
_Committee on Patents, Washington, D.C._:
Earnestly request that the American composer receives full and
adequate protection for the product of his brain; any legislation
that does not give him absolute control of that he creates is a
return to the usurpation of might and a check on the intellectual
development of our country.
JOHN PHILIP SOUSA.
STATEMENT OF MR. A. R. SERVEN, ATTORNEY FOR THE MUSIC PUBLISHERS'
ASSOCIATION--Continued.
Mr. SERVEN. Mr. Chairman and gentlemen of the committee, during the
last hundred years and more the inventors of the country have been
liberally dealt with by the lawmakers, and the result is to-day no
country in the world stands higher in everything in the line of
mechanical and industrial development than the United States does, and
I think you gentlemen who have this matter of patents in charge may
justly take pride in yourselves that your committee in the past has
done such magnificent work for the wealth, the prosperity, and the
reputation, and the ability of the United States at home and abroad. It
is conceded, I think, to-day all over the world that the American
inventor is the most industrious, the most ingenious, and is the most
valuable part of the real wealth of the United States, and that is so
because from the very start the laws have been most liberal to protect
the American inventor for every bit of the right of property which he
could possibly have in anything that is the creation of his brain and
his genius.
Now, unfortunately, as I remarked yesterday, the record is not just
that way in regard to the musical inventors--if I may use that term--of
the United States, and that, and that alone, is the reason why we have
to-day almost no names of composers that have a world-wide reputation.
Perhaps the sender of the telegram we have just heard read is as well
known in other countries as any composer we have; possibly his music
has been heard by more people than the music of any other composer of
the United States; and yet the musical critics all over the world say
America has no national music because she has no national composers. It
is true that there is not in existence to-day, perhaps, a single
ambitious musical drama that can claim popularity and reputation that
may be expected to be handed down as one of the musical classics that
had as its composer a citizen of the United States. I am informed by
these musical gentlemen that probably the greatest composer we ever had
was compelled, in order to surround himself with the necessities which
he required to prosecute his musical work, to leave the United States
and take up his residence in Europe, where he continued to live, I
believe, to his death. I think that Mr. Furness, who is much better
informed than I--and possibly in the opinion of the Musical
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┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ │
│ Transcriber’s Notes │
│ │
│ │
│ Punctuation has been standardized. │
│ │
│ Characters in small caps have been replaced by all caps. │
│ │
│ The symbol ‘‡’ indicates the description in parenthesis has │
│ been added to an illustration. This may be needed if there │
│ is no caption or if the caption does not describe the image │
│ adequately. │
│ │
│ The page numbers from the original book are shown in braces │
│ {} for reference purposes. │
│ │
│ Non-printable characteristics have been given the following │
│ transliteration: │
│ Italic text: --> _text_ │
│ superscripts --> x{th} │
│ │
│ This book was written in a period when many words had │
│ not become standardized in their spelling. Words may have │
│ multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation in │
│ the text. These have been left unchanged unless indicated │
│ with a Transcriber’s Note. │
│ │
│ Footnotes are identified in the text with a number in │
│ brackets [2] and have been accumulated in a single section │
│ at the end of the text. │
│ │
│ Transcriber’s Notes are used when making corrections to the │
│ text or to provide additional information for the modern │
│ reader. These notes are not identified in the text, but have │
│ been accumulated in a single section at the end of the book. │
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└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
[Illustration]
Engraved by J. Cochran.
JOHN KNOX
FROM THE ORIGINAL PICTURE IN THE POSSESSION OF
LORD TORPHICHEN.
_Published by W. Blackwood, Edinburgh, April 10, 1831._
{i}
LIFE
OF
JOHN KNOX:
CONTAINING
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE HISTORY OF
THE REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND.
WITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF THE PRINCIPAL REFORMERS,
AND SKETCHES OF THE PROGRESS OF LITERATURE IN
SCOTLAND DURING THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY;
AND
AN APPENDIX,
CONSISTING OF ORIGINAL PAPERS.
BY
THOMAS M‘CRIE, D.D.
THE FIFTH EDITION.
VOL. I.
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, EDINBURGH; AND
T. CADELL, STRAND, LONDON.
MDCCCXXXI.
{ii}
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY,
PAUL’S WORK, CANONGATE.
{iii}
PREFACE
TO THE
FIRST EDITION.
The Reformation from Popery marks an epoch unquestionably the most
important in the History of modern Europe. The effects of the change
which it produced, in religion, in manners, in politics, and in
literature, continue to be felt at the present day. Nothing, surely,
can be more interesting than an investigation of the history of that
period, and of those men who were the instruments, under Providence,
of accomplishing a revolution which has proved so beneficial to
mankind.
Though many able writers have employed their talents in tracing the
causes and consequences of the Reformation, and though the leading
facts respecting its progress in Scotland have been repeatedly stated,
it occurred to me that the subject was by no means {iv} exhausted.
I was confirmed in this opinion by a more minute examination of the
ecclesiastical history of this country, which I began, for my own
satisfaction, several years ago. While I was pleased at finding that
there existed such ample materials for illustrating the history
of the Scottish Reformation, I could not but regret that no one had
undertaken to digest and exhibit the information on this subject
which lay hid in manuscripts, and in books which are now little known
or consulted. Not presuming, however, that I had the ability or the
leisure requisite for executing a task of such difficulty and extent,
I formed the design of drawing up memorials of our national Reformer,
in which his personal history might be combined with illustrations of
the progress of that great undertaking, in the advancement of which he
acted so conspicuous a part.
A work of this kind seemed to be wanting. The name of KNOX, indeed,
often occurs in the general histories of the period, and some of our
historians have drawn, with their usual ability, the leading traits
of a character with which they could not fail to be struck; but it was
foreign to their object to detail the events of his life, and it was
not to be {v} expected that they would bestow that minute and critical
attention on his history which is necessary to form a complete and
accurate idea of his character. Memoirs of his life have been prefixed
to editions of some of his works, and inserted in biographical
collections, and periodical publications; but in many instances their
authors were destitute of proper information, and in others they were
precluded, by the limits to which they were confined, from entering
into those minute statements, which are so useful for illustrating
individual character, and which render biography both pleasing and
instructive. Nor can it escape observation, that a number of writers
have been guilty of great injustice to the memory of our Reformer, and
from prejudice, from ignorance, or from inattention, have exhibited a
distorted caricature, instead of a genuine portrait.
I was encouraged to prosecute my design, in consequence of my
possessing a manuscript volume of Knox’s Letters, which throw
considerable light upon his character and history. The advantages
which I have derived from this volume will appear in the course of the
work, where it is quoted under the general title of _MS. Letters_.[1]
{vi} The other manuscripts which I have chiefly made use of are
Calderwood’s large History of the Church of Scotland, Row’s History,
and Wodrow’s Collections. Calderwood’s History, besides much valuable
information respecting the early period of the Reformation, contains
a collection of letters written by Knox between 1559 and 1572, which,
together with those in my possession, extend over twenty years of
the most active period of his life. I have carefully consulted this
history as far as it relates to the period of which I write. The copy
which I most frequently quote belongs to the Church of Scotland. In
the Advocates’ Library, besides a complete copy of that work, there
is a folio volume of it, reaching to the end of the year 1572. It
was written in 1634, and has a number of interlineations and marginal
alterations, differing from the other copies, which, if not made by
the author’s own hand, were most probably done under his eye. I have
sometimes quoted this copy. The reader will easily discern when this
is the case, as the references to it are made merely by the year under
which the transaction is recorded, the volume not being paged.
Row, in composing the early part of his Historie of the Kirk,
had the assistance of Memoirs written {vii} by David Ferguson,
his father‑in‑law, who was admitted minister of Dunfermline at the
establishment of the Reformation. Copies of this History seem to have
been taken before the author had put the finishing hand to it, which
may account for the additional matter to be found in some of them.
I have occasionally quoted the copy which belongs to the Divinity
Library in Edinburgh, but more frequently a copy transcribed in 1726,
which is more full than any other that I have had access to see.
The industrious Wodrow had amassed a valuable collection of
manuscripts relating to the ecclesiastical history of Scotland, the
greater part of which is now deposited in our public libraries. In the
library of the University of Glasgow, there is a number of volumes in
folio, containing collections which he had made for illustrating the
lives of the Scottish reformers and divines of the sixteenth century.
These have supplied me with some interesting facts; and are quoted
under the name of Wodrow MSS. in Bibl. Coll. Glas.
For the transactions of the General Assembly, I have consulted the
Register commonly called the Book of the Universal Kirk. There are
several copies of {viii} this manuscript in the country; but that
which is followed in this work, and which is the oldest that I have
examined, belongs to the Advocates’ Library.
I have endeavoured to avail myself of the printed histories of the
period, and of books published in the age of the Reformation, which
often incidentally mention facts that are not recorded by historians.
In the Advocates’ Library, which contains an invaluable treasure
of information respecting Scottish affairs, I had an opportunity of
examining the original editions of most of the Reformer’s works. The
rarest of all his tracts is the narrative of his Disputation with the
Abbot of Crossraguel, which scarcely any writer since Knox’s time
seems to have seen. After I had given up all hopes of procuring a
sight of this curious tract, I was accidentally informed that a copy
of it was in the library of Alexander Boswell, Esq. of Auchinleck,
who very politely communicated it to me.
In pointing out the sources which I have consulted, I wish not to be
understood as intimating that the reader may expect in the following
work, much information which is absolutely new. He who engages in
researches of this kind, must lay his account with finding the result
of his discoveries reduced {ix} within a small compass, and should
be prepared to expect that many of his readers will pass over with a
cursory eye, what he has procured with great, perhaps with unnecessary
labour. The principal facts respecting the Reformation and the
Reformer, are already known. I flatter myself, however, that I have
been able to place some of these facts in a new and more just light,
and to bring forward others which have not hitherto been generally
known.
The reader will find the authorities, upon which I have proceeded in
the statement of facts, carefully marked; but my object was rather
to be select than numerous in my references. When I had occasion to
introduce facts which have been often repeated in histories, and are
already established and unquestionable, I did not reckon it necessary
to be so particular in producing the authorities.
After so many writers of biography have incurred the charge either
of uninteresting generality, or of tedious prolixity, it would betray
great arrogance were I to presume that I had approached the due
medium. I have particularly felt the difficulty, in writing the life
of a public character, of observing the line which divides biography
from general history. {x} Desirous of giving unity to the narrative,
and at the same time anxious to convey information respecting the
ecclesiastical and literary history of the period, I have separated a
number of facts and illustrations of this description, and placed them
in notes at the end of the Life. I am not without apprehensions that
I may have exceeded in the number or length of these notes, and that
some readers may think, that, in attempting to relieve one part of the
work, I have overloaded another.
No apology will, I trust, be deemed necessary for the freedom with
which I have expressed my sentiments on the public questions which
naturally occurred in the course of the narrative. Some of these are
at variance with opinions which are popular in the present age; but
it does not follow from this that they are false, or that they should
have been suppressed. I have not become the indiscriminate panegyrist
of the Reformer, nor have I concealed or thrown into shade his faults;
but, on the other hand, the apprehension of incurring these charges
has not deterred me from vindicating him wherever I considered
his conduct to be justifiable, or from apologizing for him against
uncandid and exaggerated censures. The attacks which have been made
on his {xi} character from so many quarters, and the attempts to wound
the Reformation through him, must be my excuse for having so often
adopted the language of apology.
In the Appendix, I have inserted a number of Knox’s letters, and other
papers relative to that period, none of which, as far as I know, have
formerly been published. Several others, intended for insertion in the
same place, have been kept back, as the work has swelled to a greater
size than was expected. A very scarce Poem, written in commendation of
the Reformer, and published in the year after his death, is reprinted
in the Supplement.
The prefixed portrait of Knox is engraved from a painting in the
possession of the Right Honourable Lord Torphichen, with the use
of which his Lordship, in the most obliging manner, favoured the
publishers. There is every reason to think that it is a genuine
likeness, as it strikingly agrees with the print of our Reformer,
which Beza, who was personally acquainted with him, published in his
_Icones_. There is a small brass medal, which has on one side a bust
of Knox, and on the other the following inscription:――JOANNES KNOXUS
SCOTUS THEOLOGUS {xii} ECCLESIÆ EDIMBURGENSIS PASTOR. OBIIT EDIMBURGI
AN. 1572. ÆT. 57. It appears to have been executed at a period much
later than the Reformer’s death. There is an error of ten years as
to his age; and as Beza has fallen into the same mistake, it is not
improbable that the inscription was copied from his _Icones_, and that
the medal was struck on the continent.
_EDINBURGH,_
_November 14, 1811._
{xiii}
PREFACE
TO THE
SECOND EDITION.
In preparing this work for a second impression, I have endeavoured
carefully to correct mistakes which had escaped me in the first, both
as to matter and language. I have introduced accounts of the principal
public transactions of the period, which a desire of being concise
induced me formerly to exclude, but which serve to throw light on the
exertions of the Reformer, and ought to be known by those who read
his Life. And I have entered into a more full detail of several parts
of his conduct than was practicable within the limits of a single
volume. Such additional authorities, printed or manuscript, as I have
had access to, since the publication of the former edition, have been
diligently consulted; and I flatter myself that the alterations and
additions which these have enabled me to make, will be considered as
improvements.
I have added to the Supplement a number of original Latin Poems on the
principal characters mentioned in the course of the work, which may
not be unacceptable to the learned reader.
_EDINBURGH,_
_March 1, 1813._
{xv}
ADVERTISEMENT
TO THE
FIFTH EDITION.
Besides the additional matter introduced into the Fourth Edition,
the present contains a variety of new facts and documents, the most
interesting of which will be found in the Note concerning Scottish
Martyrs, at the end of the first volume. The portrait of the Regent
Murray, now prefixed to the second volume, is taken from the original
in Holyrood Palace.
_EDINBURGH,_
_February 14, 1831._
{xvi}
{xvii}
CONTENTS
OF
VOLUME FIRST.
PERIOD FIRST.
Birth and parentage of Knox――his education――state of literature
in Scotland――introduction of Greek language――political and
ecclesiastical opinions of John Major――their probable influence
on Knox and Buchanan――Knox teaches scholastic philosophy
at St Andrew’s――is admitted to clerical orders――change
in his studies and sentiments――state of religion in
Scotland――urgent necessity of a reformation――gratitude
due to the reformers――introduction of reformed opinions
into Scotland――Patrick Hamilton――martyrs――exiles for
religion――reformation promoted by the circulation of the
scriptures――by poetry――embraced by persons of rank――its
critical state at the death of James V., Page 1
PERIOD SECOND.
Knox retires from St Andrew’s, and joins himself to the
reformed――is degraded from the priesthood――reformation favoured
by Regent Arran――Scottish Parliament authorize the use of
the Scriptures in the vulgar language――the Regent abjures
the reformed religion――Thomas Guillaume――George Wishart――Knox
enters the family of Langniddrie as a tutor――Cardinal Beatoun
assassinated――Knox persecuted by Archbishop Hamilton――averse to
go to England――takes refuge in the Castle of St Andrew’s――his
sentiments respecting the assassination of Beatoun――Sir David
Lindsay of the Mount――Henry Balnaves of Halhill――John
Rough――Knox’s call to the ministry――his reluctance to comply
with it――reflections on this――his first sermon――his disputation
{xviii} before a convention of the clergy――the clergy begin to
preach at St Andrew’s――success of Knox’s labours――castle taken,
and Knox confined in the French galleys――his health injured――his
fortitude of mind――writes a confession of faith――extract from
his dedication to a treatise of Balnaves――his humane advice to
his fellow‑prisoners――his liberation, Page 37
PERIOD THIRD.
Knox arrives in England――state of the Reformation in that
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LIFE OF NAPOLEON
POCKET EDITION
VOL. I.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE
1802]
LIFE OF
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE
BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.
VOL. I.
[Illustration: Napoleons Logement Qua Cont]
EDINBURGH; A. & C. BLACK.
1876
ADVERTISEMENT
The extent and purpose of this Work, have, in the course of its
progress, gradually but essentially changed from what the Author
originally proposed. It was at first intended merely as a brief and
popular abstract of the life of the most wonderful man, and the most
extraordinary events, of the last thirty years; in short, to emulate the
concise yet most interesting history of the great British Admiral, by
the Poet-Laureate of Britain.[1] The Author was partly induced to
undertake the task, by having formerly drawn up for a periodical
work--"The Edinburgh Annual Register"--the history of the two great
campaigns of 1814 and 1815; and three volumes were the compass assigned
to the proposed work. An introductory volume, giving a general account
of the Rise and Progress of the French Revolution, was thought
necessary; and the single volume, on a theme of such extent, soon
swelled into two.
As the Author composed under an anonymous title, he could neither seek
nor expect information from those who had been actively engaged in the
changeful scenes which he was attempting to record; nor was his object
more ambitious than that of compressing and arranging such information
as the ordinary authorities afforded. Circumstances, however,
unconnected with the undertaking, induced him to lay aside an
_incognito_, any farther attempt to preserve which must have been
considered as affectation; and
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Royal Institution of Great Britain.
EXTRA EVENING MEETING,
Monday, March 13, 1882.
H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES, K.G. F.R.S. Vice-Patron and
Honorary Member, in the Chair.
EADWEARD MUYBRIDGE, of San Francisco.
_The Attitudes of Animals in Motion, illustrated with the
Zoopraxiscope._
The problem of animal mechanism has engaged the attention of mankind
during the entire period of the world's history.
Job describes the action of the horse; Homer, that of the ox; it engaged
the profound attention of Aristotle, and Borelli devoted a lifetime to
its attempted solution. In every age, and in every country, philosophers
have found it a subject of exhaustless research. Marey, the eminent
French savant of our own day, dissatisfied with the investigations of his
predecessors, and with the object of obtaining more accurate information
than their works afforded him, employed a system of flexible tubes,
connected at one end with elastic air-chambers, which were attached to
the shoes of a horse; and at the other end with some mechanism, held in
the hand of the animal's rider. The alternate compression and expansion
of the air in the chambers caused pencils to record upon a revolving
cylinder the successive or simultaneous action of each foot, as it
correspondingly rested upon or was raised from the ground. By this
original and ingenious method, much interesting and valuable information
was obtained, and new light thrown upon movements until then but
imperfectly understood.
While the philosopher was
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TRAVELS IN THE FAR EAST
[Illustration: _The Pyramids from the Nile, Cairo_]
TRAVELS IN THE FAR EAST
by
ELLEN M. H. PECK
(Mrs. James Sidney Peck)
New York
Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
Publishers
Copyright 1909
By Ellen M. H. Peck
The University Press, Cambridge, U.S.A.
OZYMANDIAS
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
--PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
TO MY DAUGHTER
FOREWORD
As the inspiration which caused the making of this "Tour" came from my
daughter (the "you" of my story), and as she wished a record of the same
published, my desire has been to give her as complete an idea of my
journeyings as is possible by descriptive text and illustrations. The
interest of friends in the plan has caused them to be included in my
thought, and if the public desire to be added to the personal
acquaintances whom I regard as my readers it will prove a pleasant
recognition of a modest plan.
The nine months tour included Egypt, Northern India, Burma, Southern
India, Ceylon, Malay Peninsula, Java, Siam, Southern China, Japan,
Northern China, Manchuria, and Korea.
Realizing that impressions suddenly formed are not always to be trusted,
an attempt has been made to have them tested by comparison with those
formed by a longer residence.
In like manner only statements have been made on the authority of those
who claimed to have knowledge and experience. The lack of guidance of
either a Baedeker or a Murray has been felt in Java, Siam, China,
Manchuria, and Korea, small local guide books and guides not being an
equivalent as regards accurate testimony.
May these pages prove a pleasant reminiscence to those who have visited
the scenes described, and an introduction to those who have not thus
travelled, but some of whom may plan to "do likewise."
E.M.H.P.
MILWAUKEE, December, 1908
CONTENTS
PAGE
MILWAUKEE 1
CHICAGO 1
NEW YORK 1
THE AZORES 4
GIBRALTAR 4
MARSEILLES 5
PORT SAID 7
CAIRO 9
SUEZ CANAL 34
ADEN, ARABIA 36
BOMBAY 37
JEYPORE 48
DELHI 56
AGRA 67
FATEHPUR-SIKRI 76
CAWNPORE 79
LUCKNOW 80
BENARES 82
SILIGURI 88
DARJEELING 89
CALCUTTA 93
BURMA 97
PROME 109
RANGOON 109
SHWE DAGON 111
MADRAS 116
TANJORE 118
TRICHINOPOLY 120
MADURA 122
TUTICORIN 124
COLOMBO 124
NUWARA ELIYA 127
KANDY 129
ANURADHAPURA 132
CEYLON 141
BATAVIA, JAVA 145
BUITENZORG 147
GAROET 150
DJOKJAKARTA 154
MAOS
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POEMS
JOHN W. DRAPER
THE POET LORE COMPANY
BOSTON
Copyright, 1913, by John W. Draper
All Rights Reserved
THE GORHAM PRESS, BOSTON, U. S. A.
PREFACE
Most of the poems collected in this volume have already seen the light
of print in the _Colonnade_, the monthly publication of the Andiron Club
of New York University. The effort of the author has not been to write
verses especially adapted to the taste of the modern public, but rather
to create "a thing of beauty" from the theme that filled his mind at the
time. Often he has been led into somewhat bold innovations such as the
invention of the miniature ode, and the associating of an idea with a
rime-_motiv_ in the metrical short-stories. While he hopes that the new
forms will justify themselves, he realizes that after all, the poems
must stand or fall in proportion to the amount of pure artistic beauty
contained within them.
CONTENTS
PAGE
FROM A GRECIAN MYTH 9
"CARPE DIEM" 10
THE SONG OF LORENZO 12
THE SONG OF WO HOU 14
THE AURORA 15
THE WILL O' THE WISP 16
WHEN ON THE SHORE GRATES MY BARGE'S KEEL 18
TO SHELLEY 20
THOMAS DE QUINCEY 21
THE VISION OF DANTE 22
THE SPIRIT OF SCHOPENHAUER 24
ARTHUR TO GUENEVER 26
THE DEATH OF THOMAS CHATTERTON 27
A SPRING SONG 28
AFTER THE NEO-PLATONISTS 29
WHAT WOULDST THOU BE? 30
THE PROPHECY OF DAVID 31
THE PROPHECY OF SAINT MARK 39
THE AEOLIAN HARP 47
THE MAID THAT I WOOED 48
IN A MINOR CHORD 49
A GLASS OF ABSINTHE 51
THE PALACE OF PAIN 53
POEMS
FROM A GRECIAN MYTH
A palace he built him in the west,
A palace of vermeil fringed with gold;
And fain would he lie him down to rest
In the palace he built him in the west
Which every heavenly hue had dressed
With halcyon harmonies untold:
That palace, the sun built in the west,
A palace of vermeil fringed with gold.
_January 3, 1911._
"CARPE DIEM"
Wake, love; Aurora's breath has tinged the sky,
Mounting in faintly flushing shafts on high
To tell the world that Phoebus is at hand;
And all the hours in a glittering band
Cluster around in sweeping, circling flight
Like angels bathing in celestial light.
See, now with one great shaft of molten gold,
No longer vaporous haze around him rolled,
The King of Day mounts the ethereal height,
Scattering the last dim streamers of the night.
Bow down, ye Persians, on your altared hills;
Worship the Sun-god who gives life, and fills
Your horn with plenteous blessings from on high.
Wake! Wake! before the dawning sunbeams die!
Fling incense on your temple's dying flame;
Sing chants and chorals in his mighty name,
For as a weary traveler from afar,
Or as a sailor on the harbor bar
After long absence spies his native town,
So, with benignant brilliance smiles he down;
Or, like a good king ruling o'er his land,
He sprinkles blessings with a bounteous hand.
And thou, O my beloved, wake! arise!
Has not the sun illumined night's dull skies?
Come, Phoebus' breath has tinged the summer morn.
Come, see the light shafts waver '<DW41> the corn.
Come, see the early lily's opening bloom.
Come, see the wavering light expel the gloom
From yon dark vale still sunk in misty night.
Oh, watch the circling skylark's heavenward flight,
As, wrapped in hazy waves of shimmering light,
In one grand Jubilate to the sun,
He floods the sky with song of day begun.
But golden morn is never truly fair
Unless with day, thou com'st to weave my hair
With perfumed flowers gathered in the dell
Where sylphs sing sweetly 'bout the bubbling well.
Oh, fill my cup of pleasure with new wine
Which sparkles only where thy soft eyes shine!
O my beloved, haste thee to arise
Before the light has scorched the noonday skies!
The fleeting hours haste the falling sun;
And soon the hour-glass of life is run.
_August 5 & 6, 1911._
THE SONG OF LORENZO
Over thy balcony leaning,
Thy languorous glance floats below
Whence arise thousand odours a-streaming,
Thine incense, O goddess of woe!
A star from the infinite whirling,
Taking flight through the dimness of night,
In an ark through the ether is curling;
And touches thy hair with its light.
O lady of sadness and sorrow,
Mine anguish, my hope, my despair,
Will the bright-dawning day of to-morrow
Find thee still in that balcony there?
Near thy casement, an ancient vine groweth,
A ladder that leads thee below;
Were it not for that vine, ah, who knoweth
Thou wert not an _angel_ of woe?
Come down from thy cloud-bosomed chamber;
Not yet has the moon lit the sky;
On the vine-trellis, carefully, clamber--
(Is it thou or the wind that doth sigh?)
Among the copse hedges then darting
Like a ghost at the dawn of the day;
Then, far in the distance departing,
In triumph, I'll bear thee away.
_October 7, 1911._
THE SONG
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+-----------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| Note: |
| |
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| underscores to surround _italic text_. |
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+-----------------------------------------------------------------+
Fabian Tract No. 45.
THE IMPOSSIBILITIES OF
ANARCHISM.
BY
BERNARD SHAW
PUBLISHED BY
THE FABIAN SOCIETY
PRICE TWOPENCE
LONDON
TO BE OBTAINED OF THE FABIAN SOCIETY, 276 STRAND, W.C.
REPRINTED NOVEMBER 1895
THE IMPOSSIBILITIES OF ANARCHISM.[1]
Anarchists and Socialists.
Some years ago, as the practical policy of the Socialist party in
England began to shape itself more and more definitely into the
program of Social-Democracy, it became apparent that we could not
progress without the gravest violations of principles of all sorts.
In particular, the democratic side of the program was found to
be incompatible with the sacred principle of the Autonomy of the
Individual. It also involved a recognition of the State, an institution
altogether repugnant to the principle of Freedom. Worse than that,
it involved compromise at every step; and principles, as Mr. John
Morley once eloquently showed, must not be compromised. The result
was that many of us fell to quarrelling; refused to associate with
one another; denounced each other as trimmers or Impossibilists,
according to our side in the controversy; and finally succeeded in
creating a considerable stock of ill-feeling. My own side in the
controversy was the unprincipled one, as Socialism to me has always
meant, not a principle, but certain definite economic measures
which I wish to see taken. Indeed, I have often been reproached for
limiting the term Socialism too much to the economic side of the great
movement towards equality. That movement, however, appears to me to
be as much an Individualist as a Socialist one; and though there are
Socialists, like Sir William Harcourt, to whom Socialism means the
sum total of humanitarian aspiration, in which the transfer of some
millions of acres of property from private to public ownership must
seem but an inessential and even undesirable detail, this sublimer
shade of Socialism suffers from such a lack of concentration upon
definite measures, that, but for the honor and glory of the thing,
its professors might as well call themselves Conservatives. Now what
with Socialists of this sort, and persons who found that the practical
remedy for white slavery was incompatible with the principle of
Liberty, and the practical remedy for despotism incompatible with
the principle of Democracy, and the practical conduct of politics
incompatible with the principle of Personal Integrity (in the sense
of having your own way in everything), the practical men were at last
driven into frank Opportunism. When, for instance, they found national
and local organization of the working classes opposed by Socialists on
the ground that Socialism is universal and international in principle;
when they found their Radical and Trade Unionist allies ostracized
by Socialists for being outside the pale of the Socialist faith one
and indivisible; when they saw agricultural laborers alienated by
undiscriminating denunciations of allotments as "individualistic";
then they felt the full force of the saying that Socialism would
spread fast enough if it were not for the Socialists. It was bad
enough to have to contend with the conservative forces of the modern
unsocialist State without also having to fight the seven deadly
virtues in possession of the Socialists themselves. The conflict
between ideal Socialism and practical Social-Democracy destroyed
the Chartist organization half a century ago, as it destroyed the
Socialist League only the other day. But it has never gone so far as
the conflict between Social-Democracy and Anarchism. For the Anarchists
will recommend abstention from voting and refusal to pay taxes in
cases where the Social-Democrats are strenuously urging the workers
to organize their votes so as to return candidates pledged to contend
for extensions of the franchise and for taxation of unearned incomes,
the object of such taxation being the raising of State capital for all
sorts of collective purposes, from the opening of public libraries to
the municipalization and nationalization of our industries. In fact,
the denunciation of Social-Democratic methods by Anarchists is just
as much a matter of course as the denunciation of Social-Democratic
aims by Conservatives. It is possible that some of the strangers
present may be surprised to hear this, since no distinction is made
in the newspapers which support the existing social order between
Social-Democrats and Anarchists, both being alike hostile to that
order. In the columns of such papers all revolutionists are Socialists;
all Socialists are Anarchists; and all Anarchists are incendiaries,
assassins and thieves. One result of this is that the imaginative
French or Italian criminal who reads the papers, sometimes declares,
when taken red-handed in the commission of murder or burglary, that
he is an Anarchist acting on principle. And in all countries the more
violent and reckless temperaments among the discontented are attracted
by the name Anarchist merely because it suggests desperate, thorough,
uncompromising, implacable war on existing injustices. It is therefore
necessary to warn you that there are some persons abusively called
Anarchists by their political opponents, and others ignorantly so
described by themselves, who are nevertheless not Anarchists at all
within the meaning of this paper. On the other hand, many persons
who are never called Anarchists either by themselves or others,
take Anarchist ground in their opposition to Social-Democracy just
as clearly as the writers with whom I shall more particularly deal.
The old Whigs and new Tories of the school of Cobden and Bright, the
"Philosophic Radicals," the economists of whom Bastiat is the type,
Lord Wemyss and Lord Bramwell, Mr. Herbert Spencer and Mr. Auberon
Herbert, Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. John Morley, Mr.
Leonard Courtney: any of these is, in England, a more typical Anarchist
than Bakounin. They distrust State action, and are jealous advocates of
the prerogative of the individual, proposing to restrict the one and
to extend the other as far as is humanly possible, in opposition to
the Social-Democrat, who proposes to democratize the State and throw
upon it the whole work of organizing the national industry, thereby
making it the most vital organ in the social body. Obviously there
are natural limits to the application of both views; and Anarchists
and Social-Democrats are alike subject to the fool's argument that
since neither collective provision for the individual nor individual
freedom from collective control can be made complete, neither party
is thoroughly consistent. No dialectic of that kind will, I hope, be
found in the following criticism of Anarchism. It is confined to the
practical measures proposed by Anarchists, and raises no discussion
as to aims or principles. As to these we are all agreed. Justice,
Virtue, Truth, Brotherhood, the highest interests of the people, moral
as well as physical: these are dear not only to Social-Democrats and
Anarchists, but also to Tories, Whigs, Radicals, and probably also to
Moonlighters and Dynamitards. It is with the methods by which it is
proposed to give active effect to them that I am concerned here; and
to that point I shall now address myself by reading you a paper which
I wrote more than four years ago on the subject chosen for to-night.
I may add that it has not been revived from a wanton desire to renew
an old dispute, but in response to a demand from the provincial Fabian
Societies, bewildered as they are by the unexpected opposition of
the Anarchists, from whom they had rather expected some sympathy.
This old paper of mine being the only document of the kind available,
my colleagues have requested me to expunge such errors and follies
as I have grown out of since 1888, and to take this opportunity of
submitting it to the judgment of the Society. Which I shall now do
without further preamble.
Individualist Anarchism.
The full economic detail of Individualist Anarchism may be inferred
with sufficient completeness from an article entitled "State Socialism
and Anarchism: how far they agree, and wherein they differ," which
appeared in March, 1888, in _Liberty_, an Anarchist journal published
in Boston, Mass., and edited by the author of the article, Mr. Benjamin
R. Tucker. An examination of any number of this journal will shew that
as a candid, clear-headed, and courageous demonstrator of Individualist
Anarchism by purely intellectual methods, Mr. Tucker may safely be
accepted as one of the most capable spokesmen of his party.
"The economic principles of Modern Socialism," says Mr. Tucker, "are
a logical deduction from the principle laid down by Adam Smith in the
early chapters of his _Wealth of Nations_--namely, that labor is the
true measure of price. From this principle, these three men [Josiah
Warren, Proudhon and Marx] deduced 'that the natural wage of labor is
its product.'"
Now the Socialist who is unwary enough to accept this economic
position will presently find himself logically committed to the Whig
doctrine of _laissez-faire_. And here Mr. Tucker will cry, "Why not?
_Laissez-faire_ is exactly what we want. Destroy the money monopoly,
the tariff monopoly, and the patent monopoly. Enforce then only those
land titles which rest on personal occupancy or cultivation;[2]
and the social problem of how to secure to each worker the product
of his own labor will be solved simply by everyone minding his own
business."[3]
Let us see whether it will or not. Suppose we decree that henceforth no
more rent shall be paid in England, and that each man shall privately
own his house, and hold his shop, factory, or place of business
jointly with those who work with him in it. Let everyone be free to
issue money from his own mint without tax or stamp. Let all taxes on
commodities be abolished, and patents and copyrights be things of the
past. Try to imagine yourself under these promising conditions with
life before you. You may start in business as a crossing sweeper,
shopkeeper, collier, farmer, miller, banker, or what not. Whatever
your choice may be, the first thing you find is that the reward of
your labor depends far more on the situation in which you exercise it
than on yourself. If you sweep the crossing between St. James's and
Albemarle Streets you prosper greatly. But if you are forestalled not
only there, but at every point more central than, say, the corner of
Holford Square, Islington, you may sweep twice as hard as your rival in
Piccadilly, and not take a fifth of his toll. At such a pass you may
well curse Adam Smith and his principle that labor is the measure of
price, and either advocate a democratically constituted State Socialist
municipality, paying all its crossing sweepers equally, or else cast
your broom upon the Thames and turn shopkeeper. Yet here again the same
difficulty crops up. Your takings depend, not on yourself, but on the
number of people who pass your window per hour. At Charing Cross or
Cheapside fortunes are to be made: in the main street at Putney one
can do enough to hold up one's head: further out, a thousand yards
right or left of the Portsmouth Road, the most industrious man in the
world may go whistle for a customer. Evidently retail shopkeeping is
not the thing for a man of spirit after Charing Cross and Cheapside
have been appropriated by occupying owners on the principle of first
come first served. You must aspire then to wholesale dealing--nay, to
banking. Alas! the difficulty is intensified beyond calculation. Take
that financial trinity, Glyn, Mills and Currie; transplant them only
a few miles from Lombard Street; and they will soon be objects of
pity to the traditional sailor who once presented at their counter a
cheque for L25 and generously offered to take it in instalments, as he
did not wish to be too hard on them all at once. Turning your back on
banking, you meddle in the wheat trade, and end by offering to exchange
an occupying ownership of all Salisbury Plain for permission to pay a
rack rent for premises within hail of "The Baltic" and its barometer.
Probably there are some people who have a blind belief that crossing
sweepers, "The Baltic," Lombard Street, and the like, are too utterly
of the essence of the present system to survive the introduction of
Anarchism. They will tell me that I am reading the conditions of the
present into the future. Against such instinctive convictions it is
vain to protest that I am reading only Mr. Tucker's conditions. But at
least there will be farming, milling, and mining, conducted by human
agents, under Anarchism. Now the farmer will not find in his perfect
Anarchist market two prices at one time for two bushels of wheat of the
same quality; yet the labor cost of each bushel will vary considerably
according to the fertility of the farm on which it was raised, and the
proximity of that farm to the market. A good soil will often yield
the strongest and richest grain to less labor per acre or per bushel
than must be spent on land that returns a crop less valuable by five
shillings a quarter. When all the best land is held by occupying
owners, those who have to content themselves with poorer soils will
hail the principle that labor is the measure of price with the thumb
to the nose. Among the millers, too, there must needs be grievous
mistrust of Proudhon and Josiah Warren. For of two men with equally
good heart to work and machinery to work with, one may be on a stream
that will easily turn six millstones; whilst the other, by natural
default of water, or being cut off by his fellow higher up stream, may
barely be able to keep two pairs of stones in gear, and may in a dry
season be ready to tie these two about his neck and lie down under the
scum of his pond. Certainly, he can defy drought by setting to work
with a steam engine, steel rollers, and all the latest contrivances
for squashing wheat into dust instead of grinding it into flour; yet,
after all his outlay, he will not be able to get a penny a sack more
for his stuff than his competitor, to whose water-wheel Nature is
gratuitously putting her shoulder. "Competition everywhere and always"
of his unaided strength against that of his rival he might endure; but
to fight naked against one armed with the winds and waves (for there
are windmills as well as watermills) is no sound justice, though it
be sound Anarchism. And how would occupying ownership of mines work,
when it is an easier matter to get prime Wallsend and Silkstone out
of one mine than to get slates and steam fuel out of another, even
after twenty years' preliminary shaft-sinking? Would Mr. Tucker, if
he had on sale from a rich mine some Silkstone that had only cost
half as much labor as steam coal from a relatively poor one, boldly
announce:--"Prices this day: Prime Silkstone, per ton, 25s.; best steam
ditto, 50s. Terms, cash. Principles, those of Adam Smith--see 'Wealth
of Nations' _passim_"? Certainly not with "competition everywhere
and always," unless custom was no object to him in comparison with
principle.
It is useless to multiply instances. There is only one country in
which any square foot of land is as favorably situated for conducting
exchanges, or as richly endowed by nature for production, as any other
square foot; and the name of that country is Utopia. In Utopia alone,
therefore, would occupying ownership be just. In England, America
and other places, rashly created without consulting the Anarchists,
Nature is all caprice and injustice in dealing with Labor. Here you
scratch her with a spade; and earth's increase and foison plenty are
added to you. On the other side of the hedge twenty steam-diggers will
not extort a turnip from her. Still less adapted to Anarchism than
the fields and mines is the crowded city. The distributor flourishes
where men love to congregate: his work is to bring commodities to
men; but here the men bring themselves to the commodities. Remove
your distributor a mile, and his carts and travellers must scour the
country for customers. None know this better than the landlords. Up
High Street, down Low Street, over the bridge and into Crow Street, the
toilers may sweat equally for equal wages; but their product varies;
and the ground rents vary with the product. Competition levels down
the share kept by the worker as it levels up the hours of his labor;
and the surplus, high or low according to the fertility of the soil or
convenience of the site, goes as high rent or low rent, but always in
the long run rack rent, to the owner of the land.
Now Mr. Tucker's remedy for this is to make the occupier--the actual
worker--the owner. Obviously the effect would be, not to abolish his
advantage over his less favorably circumstanced competitors, but simply
to authorize him to put it into his own pocket instead of handing it
over to a landlord. He would then, it is true, be (as far as his place
of business was concerned) a worker instead of an idler; but he would
get more product as a manufacturer and more custom as a distributor
than other equally industrious workers in worse situations. He could
thus save faster than they, and retire from active service at an age
when they would still have many years more work before them. His
ownership of his place of business would of course lapse in favor
of
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THE SWOOP!
or
How Clarence Saved England
_A Tale of the Great Invasion_
by P. G. Wodehouse
1909
PREFACE
It may be thought by some that in the pages which follow I have painted
in too lurid colours the horrors of a foreign invasion of England.
Realism in art, it may be argued, can be carried too far. I prefer to
think that the majority of my readers will acquit me of a desire to be
unduly sensational. It is necessary that England should be roused to a
sense of her peril, and only by setting down without flinching the
probable results of an invasion can this be done. This story, I may
mention, has been written and published purely from a feeling of
patriotism and duty. Mr. Alston Rivers' sensitive soul will be jarred
to its foundations if it is a financial success. So will mine. But in a
time of national danger we feel that the risk must be taken. After all,
at the worst, it is a small sacrifice to make for our country.
P. G. WODEHOUSE.
_The Bomb-Proof Shelter,_ _London, W._
Part One
Chapter 1
AN ENGLISH BOY'S HOME
_August the First, 19--_
Clarence Chugwater looked around him with a frown, and gritted his
teeth.
"England--my England!" he moaned.
Clarence was a sturdy lad of some fourteen summers. He was neatly, but
not gaudily, dressed in a flat-brimmed hat, a handkerchief, a
flannel shirt, a bunch of ribbons, a haversack, football shorts, brown
boots, a whistle, and a hockey-stick. He was, in fact, one of General
Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts.
Scan him closely. Do not dismiss him with a passing glance; for you are
looking at the Boy of Destiny, at Clarence MacAndrew Chugwater, who
saved England.
To-day those features are familiar to all. Everyone has seen the
Chugwater Column in Aldwych, the equestrian statue in Chugwater Road
(formerly Piccadilly), and the picture-postcards in the stationers'
windows. That bulging forehead, distended with useful information; that
massive chin; those eyes, gleaming behind their spectacles; that
_tout ensemble_; that _je ne sais quoi_.
In a word, Clarence!
He could do everything that the Boy Scout must learn to do. He could
low like a bull. He could gurgle like a wood-pigeon. He could imitate
the cry of the turnip in order to deceive rabbits. He could smile and
whistle simultaneously in accordance with Rule 8 (and only those who
have tried this know how difficult it is). He could spoor, fell trees,
tell the character from the boot-sole, and fling the squaler. He did
all these things well, but what he was really best at was flinging the
squaler.
* * * * *
Clarence, on this sultry August afternoon, was tensely occupied
tracking the family cat across the dining-room carpet by its
foot-prints. Glancing up for a moment, he caught sight of the other
members of the family.
"England, my England!" he moaned.
It was indeed a sight to extract tears of blood from any Boy Scout. The
table had been moved back against the wall, and in the cleared space
Mr. Chugwater, whose duty it was to have set an example to his
children, was playing diabolo. Beside him, engrossed in cup-and-ball,
was his wife. Reggie Chugwater, the eldest son, the heir, the hope of
the house, was reading the cricket news in an early edition of the
evening paper. Horace, his brother, was playing pop-in-taw with his
sister Grace and Grace's _fiance_, Ralph Peabody. Alice, the other
Miss Chugwater, was mending a Badminton racquet.
Not a single member of that family was practising with the rifle, or
drilling, or learning to make bandages.
Clarence groaned.
"If you can't play without snorting like that, my boy," said Mr.
Chugwater, a little irritably, "you must find some other game. You made
me jump just as I was going to beat my record."
"Talking of records," said Reggie, "Fry's on his way to his eighth
successive century. If he goes on like this, Lancashire will win the
championship."
"I thought he was playing for Somerset," said Horace.
"That was a fortnight ago. You ought to keep up to date in an important
subject like cricket."
Once more Clarence snorted bitterly.
"I'm sure you ought not to be down on the floor, Clarence," said Mr.
Chugwater anxiously. "It is so draughty, and you have evidently got a
nasty cold. _Must_ you lie on the floor?"
"I am spooring," said Clarence with simple dignity.
"But I'm sure you can spoor better sitting on a chair with a nice
book."
"_I_ think the kid's sickening for something," put in Horace
critically. "He's deuced roopy. What's up, Clarry?"
"I was thinking," said Clarence, "of my country--of England."
"What's the matter with England?"
"_She's_ all right," murmured Ralph Peabody.
"My fallen country!" sighed Clarence, a not unmanly tear bedewing the
glasses of his spectacles. "My fallen, stricken country!"
"That kid," said Reggie, laying down his paper, "is talking right
through his hat. My dear old son, are you aware that England has never
been so strong all round as she is now? Do you _ever_ read the
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WHAT THE BLACKBIRD SAID.
A Story
_IN FOUR CHIRPS_.
BY
MRS. FREDERICK LOCKER.
_ILLUSTRATED BY RANDOLPH CALDECOTT._
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET
1881
LONDON:
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
BREAD STREET HILL, E.C.
TO MY DEAR CHILDREN,
GODFREY AND DOROTHY,
THIS LITTLE STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
BY THEIR MOTHER.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHIRP THE FIRST--WINTER 1
CHIRP THE SECOND--SPRING 22
CHIRP THE THIRD--SUMMER 47
CHIRP THE FOURTH--AUTUMN 69
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
THE BLACKBIRD ON A SMALL WHITE HILLOCK. 4
THE ROBIN'S NEST. 38
THE ROOK. 62
THE THREE FRIENDS--THE ROBIN, THE ROOK, AND THE BLACKBIRD. 84
CHIRP THE FIRST.
The winter of 1878 was certainly an unusually dreary one, and so thought
a remarkably fine young Blackbird, as he perched one morning on the bare
bough of a spreading lime-tree, whose last brown leaf had fallen to the
ground some weeks before.
With the exception of the Scotch firs and other fortunate evergreens,
there was nothing to be seen on all sides but leafless branches standing
out sharply against the cold, grey sky. The ground was frozen, and
entirely covered with snow, for there had been a heavy fall during the
night. The way-marks of field and road were obliterated, all was one
sheet of dazzling whiteness. Here and there a little mound marked the
spot where a flower-bed lay buried, and there was one narrow path where
the snow was thickly piled on either side, for it had been partially
swept from the centre, which showed traces of the bright brown gravel
below.
The Blackbird was contemplating this landscape in a discontented and
unhappy frame of mind. He was, as we have just said, a remarkably fine
young bird. His plumage was of a glossy blackness, with which not even a
raven's could vie; his bright eyes looked even brighter as they gleamed
from the deep yellow rims which surrounded them, and his bill resembled
the polished shaft of an early crocus.
At the time at which my story begins, this Blackbird was about eight
months old, and usually he was not a little vain of his appearance. On
this particular morning, however, he did not feel at all so proud of
himself, or especially pleased with any one or anything. He had passed
the long night in a wood hard by, and had been benumbed with cold.
He had tucked his head first under one wing, and then under the other,
but it had been of no use, the cutting wind had penetrated even his
thick warm feathers, and had ruffled them in a way which had sorely
discomposed him, in body as well as in mind.
Then again, all through the night he had been exceedingly put out by
little cold wet dabs which kept continually falling on his back. The
Blackbird had changed his position--he had done it several times: he had
moved from a birch to an elm, and then to a beech-tree. But it was of no
avail, the little cold droppings seemed to pursue him wherever he went,
and it was not till quite late in the night that he found real shelter,
and got a little rest in a thick mantle of ivy which completely covered
a wall near the stables.
What were these cold droppings? He could not imagine. He knew well
enough they were not rain; rain always made a sharp pelting noise as it
struck against the trees. But there had been no such sound, for, with
the exception of the occasional sighing of the wind, the night had been
a singularly noiseless one. What then could this cold, soft moisture
be?
The Blackbird could not at all understand it, but as he was well
sheltered, and soon got warm in the ivy, he fell asleep and
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SIAM:
ITS
GOVERNMENT, MANNERS, CUSTOMS, &c.
BY
Rev. N. A. McDONALD,
For ten years a Missionary in that country.
PHILADELPHIA:
ALFRED MARTIEN,
1214 CHESTNUT STREET.
1871.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
ALFRED MARTIEN,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
To the Memory
Of the Founder of Milnwood Academy,
REV. J. Y. McGINNES,
Who had the cause of Foreign Missions very much at heart;
AND TO ALL WHO HAVE BEEN
PUPILS OF THAT INSTITUTION,
THIS LITTLE VOLUME
Is respectfully dedicated, by one of the earliest
Students of the Institution,
The Author.
[Illustration: The present King of Siam.]
Contents.
CHAPTER I.
GEOGRAPHY
CHAPTER II.
THE GOVERNMENT
CHAPTER III.
RELIGION
CHAPTER IV.
EDUCATION AND LITERATURE
CHAPTER V.
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS
CHAPTER VI.
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE
CHAPTER VII.
CEREMONIES FOR THE DYING AND DEAD
CHAPTER VIII.
THEORY AND PRACTICE OF MEDICINE
CHAPTER IX.
FARMING AND PRODUCTS
CHAPTER X.
MODE OF DIVIDING TIME
CHAPTER XI.
MISSIONARY OPERATIONS
PREFACE.
In giving these pages to the public the author has no ambition to make
a book. Having been invited by the Principal of Milnwood Academy, at
Shade Gap, Pa., to deliver in that Institution a series of lectures,
or talks, on Siam, its government, manners, customs, &c., a few
friends have requested that they be reduced to paper and published,
which is his only apology for giving them to the public in book form.
A few additions have been made, and the facts are narrated as seen and
understood by the author. In a few instances, to refresh his memory,
he has referred to articles on Siam, published in the _Bangkok
Calendar_ and elsewhere. The work is intended chiefly for a class of
readers who may not have access to the more pretending works recently
published on that country.
N. A. M.
Shade Gap, Pa., April, 1871.
SIAM.
CHAPTER I.
GEOGRAPHY, Etc.
On my "overland" journey from Siam to the United States, through
France and England, many persons were accustomed to accost me saying,
"Pardon me, Sir, but what nationality is that young man who is with
you?" referring to my Siamese boy. That boy, Sir, is a Siamese. "A
Siamese! Well, I must confess my geography is a little shaky,--I
scarcely know where Siam is,--but I remember now that is where the
Siamese twins came from." Referring, of course, to those unfortunate
beings who by some "lusus naturae" are inseparably connected together,
and have been obliged to spend a long life in that condition, and who
have consequently become almost the only means by which their native
country is known to a vast majority of Europeans. When I, in 1860,
determined to go to Siam, I found it next to impossible to gather from
books any reliable information concerning it, and consequently took
shipping at New York almost as ignorant of the country to which I was
going, as I was of the moon. Fortunately however, some of our party
were returning, and before we arrived at our destination I was pretty
well prepared for what I was to encounter. Geographies are nearly
silent in regard to Siam, from the simple fact that geographers
themselves know nothing about it. It is also to be regretted that,
until very recently, chiefly all the books concerning Oriental
countries were written by mere cursory travellers, whose knowledge of
the countries through which they passed, or at which they touched,
must necessarily have been limited, and the chief object of many of
them appears to have been to make a readable book, oftentimes at the
expense of truth.
You will naturally ask, where is Siam? At the extreme point of that
vast continent extending from the snows of Siberia to the Equator, and
terminating in the long narrow Malay peninsula, is the little island
of Singapore, separated from the mainland by a narrow strait. The
island is about twenty-five miles long, and about fourteen miles
broad, and commands the entrance of the China sea. The English, who
have ever had an eye to strategic points, and especially in the East,
took possession of it in 1819, being then little more than a Malay
fishing village, and a nest for pirates. The present town of
Singapore, well laid out and neatly built, and situated on the
southern extremity of the island commanding the anchorage, contains
perhaps one hundred thousand inhabitants, whilst the principal English
merchants live in palatial residences on the hills in the rear of the
town. The government of the island, together with Malacca, Penang, and
Province Wellesley, has lately teen transferred from the Indian
Government directly to the Crown. It is a beautiful little island,
with a genial climate, and I know of no place in the East where I
would rather live.
Leaving Singapore, and passing through the strait, up the peninsula,
over the lower part of the China sea, and up the gulf of Siam about
eight hundred miles, you come to the kingdom of Siam, sandwitched
between Cambodia on the east and Burmah on the west, extending from
about latitude 4 deg. to 22 deg. north, and from longitude about 98 deg. to
104 deg. east; consequently there is neither frost or snow, but perpetual
summer reigns. The leaves fall and are replaced by new ones, whilst
those who are daily witnesses to it scarcely notice the change.
The climate of Siam is genial and healthy, but the constant heat is
trying to the constitutions of Europeans, who require a change at
least once in ten years. The seasons are two, the wet and the dry.
From November to May scarcely a cloud obscures the sky, and no rain
falls except perhaps a shower in January. The Siamese look for a
shower in that month, and are disappointed if it does not come. They
think it necessary for certain kinds of fruit which is just then
forming, and they also think it indicative of a good rice season. I
have, however, in ten years, seen January pass several times without
the expected shower. From November to February the weather is
delightful, being the cool season, but the thermometer is seldom lower
than 64 deg. March and April are the hottest months, but the thermometer
does not rise as high as might be expected in such a climate. I have
never seen it over 98 deg., but on account of the long absence of rain,
the ground in most places becomes dry and parched, and the rays of the
sun, reflected from the heated earth, give the atmosphere a kind of
bake-oven feeling, which is oftentimes hard to endure. From November
to May the wind blows constantly from the northeast, and is called the
"northeast monsoon." From May till November again, is the wet season,
the wind blowing constantly from the southwest, and is called the
"southwest monsoon," the rain falling in copious showers almost every
day. The showers come in a kind of rotation. If there is one to-day at
a certain hour, there will be one to-morrow an hour later. The showers
are copious indeed, and sometimes one would think the "windows of
heaven were opened." The lightning is vivid, and the thunder
oftentimes terrific.
Whither the name Siam came, or whence it is derived, it is now
impossible to tell. The Siamese themselves know nothing of it, only as
it is applied to their country by Europeans. The name they apply to
their country is "Muang Thai," the free country, in distinction from
those countries which are tributary. The name Siam, however, is now
coming into common use, and is sometimes inserted in public documents.
The geology of Siam is simple, the lower portion near the gulf being
an alluvial deposit, the result of the annual overflowing of the
rivers, which takes place at the close of every rainy season. The
water from the copious rains rushes down from the mountains up the
country, and overflows the lowlands, enriching them and causing them
to produce abundant crops of rice. The mountains are volcanic, and
some of them have the appearance of having been thrown from a distance
and set down in their present positions.
Many of them are barren of almost everything green, presenting to the
eye but little that is attractive, but others, especially in the North
Laos country, present scenery indescribably grand. In many places,
especially along the seacoast, the old granite, the foundation of all
things, geologically speaking, comes to the surface, and even projects
out in bold bluffs and headlands. The rocks on many of the mountains
present the appearance of having at one time been lashed by the waves
of the sea, and there is abundant evidence that much of the lower
country has been redeemed from the sea at no very remote period.
The country is drained by three streams of considerable size, which
empty into the gulf. The principal one is put down on our maps as the
Menam, but called by the Siamese Menam Chow Phya, Menam being the
generic name for river, meaning mother of water, and Chow Phya being
the specific name for that particular river. Were it not for a sandbar
at its mouth, it would be navigable for the largest class of vessels
to Bangkok, but on that account the largest vessels are obliged to
anchor in the roadstead outside. The Bampakong on the east, and
Tacheen on the west, are also streams of some importance. Besides
these, there are also a number of smaller streams.
Bangkok, the capital of the kingdom, is situated on both sides of the
Menam Chow Phya, about twenty-five miles from its mouth. It contains
about four hundred thousand inhabitants, and has been called the
Venice of the East, from the fact that much of the city is floating on
the river in the form of floating houses. These floating houses are a
kind of nondescript affair, and it is impossible to give one who has
never seen them any idea of them. The following description, by the
oldest missionary in Siam, and published in the _Bangkok Calendar_ of
1866, though quite too elaborate for easy reading, is as good as
anything that can be given, and I shall insert it "in toto."
"Our friends in the western world have heard a good deal about the
floating houses of Bangkok, but they universally speak of being unable
to understand, after all that has been written, what kind of things
they are. If the descriptions that have been given of them could have
always been accompanied by good photographic pictures of the same, our
friends would have had much less difficulty in understanding them. But
such pictures are too expensive to procure for illustrating 'The
Bangkok Calendar,' which never pays for its cost, and hence we must do
the next best thing, and that is to descend into quite minute detail,
if we would make our friends who have never visited Bangkok understand
such unique structures as the floating houses of the city. And as
these houses form a large part of the dwellings and mercantile shops
of this great metropolis, being the most conspicuous of all buildings
(the temples only excepted) as you pass up and down the Menam Chow
Phya, the 'Broadway' of Bangkok, they seem to demand a minute
description in 'The Calendar.' These floating houses are moored on
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E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Matthew Wheaton, and the Online
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GENERAL BOUNCE
[Illustration: "'Where have you been all day? You promised to
drive me out--you know you did!'"
_Page 77_]
GENERAL BOUNCE
or
The Lady and the Locusts
by
G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE
Author of "Katerfelto," "The Interpreter," "Market Harborough," etc.
Illustrated by Frances E. Ewan
London
Ward, Lock & Co., Limited
New York and Melbourne
PREFACE
Where the rose blushes in the garden, there will the bee and the
butterfly be found, humming and fluttering around. So is it in the
world; the fair girl, whose sweetness is enhanced by the fictitious
advantages of wealth and position, will ever have lovers and admirers
enough and to spare.
Burns was no bad judge of human nature; and he has a stanza on this
subject, combining the reflection of the philosopher with the _canny_
discrimination of the Scot.
"Away with your follies of beauty's alarms,
The _slender_ bit beauty you clasp in your arms;
But gi'e me the lass that has acres of charms,
Oh, gi'e me the lass with the _weel-plenished_ farms."
Should the following pages afford such attractive young ladies matter
for a few moments' reflection, the author will not have written in
vain.
May he hope they will choose well and wisely; and that the withered
rose, when she has lost her fragrance, may be fondly prized and gently
tended by the hand that plucked her in her dewy morning prime.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. My Cousin 9
II. The Abigail 26
III. The Handsome Governess 41
IV. "Libitina" 58
V. Uncle Baldwin 72
VI. The Blind Boy 85
VII. Boot and Saddle 101
VIII. The Ball 116
IX. Want 130
X. Superfluity 146
XI. Campaigning Abroad 161
XII. Campaigning at Home 177
XIII. The World 194
XIV. To Persons about to Marry 204
XV. Penelope and her Suitors 212
XVI. Forgery 225
XVII. Club Law 236
XVIII. The Strictest Confidence 247
XIX. Dispatches 259
XX. Dawn in the East 276
XXI. Hospital 292
XXII. The Widow 303
XXIII. "Stop her" 309
XXIV. King Crack 323
XXV. "Dulce Domum" 333
XXVI. "Eudaemon" 347
XXVII. Flood and Field 360
XXVIII. "The Sad Sea Wave" 374
GENERAL BOUNCE
_OR, THE LADY AND THE LOCUSTS_
CHAPTER I
MY COUSIN
AN ENGLISHMAN'S HOLIDAY--ST. SWITHIN'S IN A CALM--THE
MERCHANT'S AMBITION--"MON BEAU COUSIN"--CASTLES IN THE AIR--A
LIVELY CRAFT--"HAIRBLOWER" AND HIS COLD BATH
Much as we think of ourselves, and with all our boasted civilisation,
we Anglo-Saxons are but a half-barbarian race after all. Nomadic,
decidedly nomadic in our tastes, feelings, and pursuits, it is but the
moisture of our climate that keeps us in our own houses at all, and
like our Scandinavian ancestors (for in turf parlance we have several
crosses of the old Norse blood in our veins), we delight
periodically--that is, whenever we have a fortnight's dry weather--to
migrate from our dwellings, and peopling the whole of our own
sea-board, push our invading hordes over the greater part of Europe,
nor refrain from thrusting our outposts
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THE NATURE FAKER
By Richard Harding Davis
Richard Herrick was a young man with a gentle disposition, much
money, and no sense of humor. His object in life was to marry Miss
Catherweight. For three years she had tried to persuade him this could
not be, and finally, in order to convince him, married some one else.
When the woman he loves marries another man, the rejected one is
popularly supposed to take to drink or to foreign travel. Statistics
show that, instead, he instantly falls in love with the best friend of
the girl who refused him. But, as Herrick truly loved Miss Catherweight,
he could not worship any other woman, and so he became a lover of
nature. Nature, he assured his men friends, does not disappoint you. The
more thought, care, affection you give to nature, the more she gives
you in return, and while, so he admitted, in wooing nature there are
no great moments, there are no heart-aches. Jackson, one of the men
friends, and of a frivolous disposition, said that he also could admire
a landscape, but he would rather look at the beautiful eyes of a girl
he knew than at the Lakes of Killarney, with a full moon, a setting sun,
and the aurora borealis for a background. Herrick suggested that,
while the beautiful eyes might seek those of another man, the Lakes of
Killarney would always remain where you could find them. Herrick pursued
his new love in Connecticut on an abandoned farm which he converted into
a "model" one. On it he established model dairies and model incubators.
He laid out old-fashioned gardens, sunken gardens, Italian gardens,
landscape gardens, and a game preserve.
The game preserve was his own especial care and pleasure. It consisted
of two hundred acres of dense forest and hills and ridges of rock. It
was filled with mysterious caves, deep chasms, tiny gurgling streams,
nestling springs, and wild laurel. It was barricaded with fallen
tree-trunks and moss-covered rocks that had never felt the foot of man
since that foot had worn a moccasin. Around the preserve was a high
fence stout enough to keep poachers on the outside and to persuade
the wild animals that inhabited it to linger on the inside. These wild
animals were squirrels, rabbits, and raccoons. Every day, in sunshine
or in rain, entering through a private gate, Herrick would explore this
holy of holies. For such vermin as would destroy the gentler animals
he carried a gun. But it was turned only on those that preyed upon his
favorites. For hours he would climb through this wilderness, or, seated
on a rock, watch a bluebird building her nest or a squirrel laying in
rations against the coming of the snow. In time he grew to think he knew
and understood the inhabitants of this wild place of which he was the
overlord. He looked upon them not as his tenants but as his guests. And
when they fled from him in terror to caves and hollow tree-trunks, he
wished he might call them back and explain he was their friend, that it
was due to him they lived in peace. He was glad they were happy. He was
glad it was through him that, undisturbed, they could live the simple
life.
His fall came through ambition. Herrick himself attributed it to his
too great devotion to nature and nature's children. Jackson, he of the
frivolous mind, attributed it to the fact that any man is sure to come
to grief who turns from the worship of God's noblest handiwork, by which
Jackson meant woman, to worship chipmunks and Plymouth Rock hens. One
night Jackson lured Herrick into New York to a dinner and a music hall.
He invited also one Kelly, a mutual friend of a cynical and combative
disposition. Jackson liked to hear him and Herrick abuse each other, and
always introduced subjects he knew would cause each to lose his temper.
But, on this night, Herrick needed no goading. He was in an ungrateful
mood. Accustomed to food fresh from the soil and the farmyard, he
sneered at hothouse asparagus, hothouse grapes, and cold-storage quail.
At the music hall he was even more difficult. In front of him sat a
stout lady who when she shook with laughter shed patchouli and a man who
smoked American cigarettes. At these and the steam heat, the nostrils of
Herrick, trained to the odor of balsam and the smoke of open wood fires,
took offense. He refused to be amused. The monologue artist, in whom
Jackson found delight, caused Herrick only to groan; the knockabout
comedians he hoped would break their collar-bones; the lady who danced
Salome, and who fascinated Kelly, Herrick prayed would catch pneumonia
and die of it. And when the drop rose upon the Countess Zichy's bears,
his dissatisfaction reached a climax.
There were three bears--a large papa bear, a mamma bear, and the baby
bear. On the programme they were described as Bruno, Clara,
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[Frontispiece: The great ledger-book--which I now saw turned to an
engine of our salvation. Chapter XIV]
IDONIA:
A ROMANCE OF OLD LONDON
BY
ARTHUR F. WALLIS
ILLUSTRATED BY
CHARLES E. BROCK
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1914
_Copyright, 1913_,
By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved_
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
The irregular pile of buildings known as Petty Wales, of which
considerable mention is made in this book, formerly stood at the
northeast corner of Thames Street. The chronicler, Stow, writes of
"some large buildings of stone, the ruins whereof do yet remain, but
the first builders and owners of them are worn out of memory. Some are
of opinion... that this great stone building was sometime the lodging
appointed for the princes of Wales when they repaired to this city, and
that therefore the street, in that part, is called Petty Wales;" and he
further adds: "The merchants of Burdeaux were licensed to build at the
Vintry, strongly with stone, as may yet be seen, and seemeth old though
oft repaired; much more cause have these buildings in Petty Wales...
to seem old, which, for many years, to wit, since the galleys left
their course of landing there, hath fallen to ruin." It appears to
have been let out for many uses, some disreputable; and a certain
Mother Mampudding (of whom one would like to know more) kept a part of
the house for victualling.
CONTENTS
I. IN WHICH I LEARN FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT I HAVE AN UNCLE
II. IN WHICH PTOLEMY PHILPOT COMMENCES HIS STUDY OF THE LATIN
TONGUE
III. HOW A BROTHER, HAVING OFFENDED, WAS FORGIVEN
IV. IN WHICH I SAY FAREWELL THRICE
V. PRINCIPALLY TELLS HOW SIR MATTHEW JUKE WAS CAST AWAY UPON THE
HEBRIDES
VI. HOW THE OLD SCHOLAR AND I CAME TO LONDON
VII. IN WHICH I CONCEIVE A DISLIKE OF AN EARL'S SERVANT AND AN
AFFECTION FOR A MAN OF LAW
VIII. A CHAPTER OF CHEATS
IX. TELLS HOW I CHANGED MY LODGING AND LOST MY MARE
X. HOW I SAW AN ENEMY AT THE WINDOW
XI. IS SUFFICIENT IN THAT IT TELLS OF IDONIA
XII. HOW MR. JORDAN COULD NOT RUN COUNTER TO THE COURSE OF NATURE
XIII. PETTY WALES
XIV. HOW IDONIA TAUGHT ME AND A CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD HOW TO KEEP
BOOKS
XV. IN WHICH I BEGIN TO EARN MY LIVING
XVI. THE SIEGE OF PETTY WALES
XVII. HOW I FOUND AN OLD FRIEND IN A STRANGE PLACE, AND HOW PTOLEMY
RENEWED HIS STUDY OF THE LATIN TONGUE
XVIII. IN WHICH I RECEIVE A COMMISSION AND SUFFER A CHECK
XIX. IN WHICH I COME TO GRIPS WITH MR. MALPAS
XX. THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHINESE JAR
XXI. THE "FAIR HAVEN" OF WAPPING
XXII. HOW MY UNCLE BOTOLPH LOST HIS LUCK
XXIII. THE VOYAGE OF THE _SARACEN'S HEAD_
XXIV. THE TEMPLE BENEATH THE WATERS
XXV. IN WHICH THE SHIPS OF WAR GO BY AND THE TALE ENDS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE GREAT LEDGER-BOOK--WHICH I NOW SAW
TURNED TO AN ENGINE OF OUR SALVATION... _Frontispiece_
THE ARGUMENT BETWEEN MR. SKEGS AND PTOLEMY
MR. JORDAN REGARDED ME VERY MOURNFULLY
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ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD
Or
The Captives of the Great Earthquake
BY ROY ROCKWOOD
Other titles by ROY ROCKWOOD
THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES
THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE
UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE
FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND
THROUGH SPACE TO MARS
LOST ON THE MOON
ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD
DAVE DASHAWAY, THE YOUNG AVIATOR
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDROPLANE
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP
DAVE DASHAWAY AROUND THE WORLD
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTOR CYCLES
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR POWER LAUNCH
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS IN A SUBMARINE
CONTENTS
I. SHOT INTO THE AIR!
II. MARK HANGS ON
III. THIS FLIGHT OF THE "SNOWBIRD"
IV. "WHO GOES THERE?"
V. BETWEEN TWO PERILS
VI. ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND
VII. DROPPED FROM THE SKY
VIII. PHINEAS ROEBACH, OIL HUNTER
IX. THE EARTHQUAKE
X. THE BLACK DAY
XI. THE WONDERFUL LEAP
XII. THE GEYSER
XIII. NATURE GONE MAD
XIV. ON THE WING AGAIN
XV. A PLUNGE TO THE ICE
XVI. PROFESSOR HENDERSON REVEALS THE TRUTH
XVII. ON AN ISLAND IN THE AIR
XVIII. IMPRISONED IN THE ICE
XIX. A NIGHT ATTACK
XX. THE HEROISM OF THE SHANGHAI ROOSTER
XXI. MARK ON GUARD
XXII. THE WOLF TRAIL
XXIII. THE FIGHT AT ALEUKAN
XXIV. THE FLIGHT TOWARD THE COAST
XXV. THE HERD of KADIAKS
XXVI. THE ABANDONED CITY
XXVII. THE WHALE HUNT ASHORE
XXVIII. ON THE WHALING BARK
XXIX. WHEN THE SEA ROLLED BACK
XXX. AN ENDURING MONUMENT--CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
SHOT INTO THE AIR
"Hurrah!" shouted Jack Darrow, flicking the final drops of lacquer
from the paintbrush he had been using. "That's the last stroke. She's
finished!"
"I guess we've done all we can to her before her trial trip," admitted
his chum, Mark Sampson, but in a less confident tone.
"You don't see anything wrong with her, old croaker; do you?" demanded
Jack, laughing as usual.
"'The proof of the pudding is in the eating thereof; not in chewing
the pudding bag string'," quoted Mark, still with a serious countenance.
But like Jack he stood off from the great body of the wonderful airship,
and looked the completed task over with some satisfaction. Having
emergency wings, she was also a plane. She was white all over and her
name was the _Snowbird_. Jack and Mark had spent most of their time
during this vacation from their college in building this flying machine,
which was veritably an up-to-the-minute aerial vehicle, built for both
speed and carrying capacity.
The hangar in which the machine had been built was connected with
Professor Amos Henderson's laboratory and workshop, hidden away on a
lonely point on the seacoast, about ten miles from the town of Easton,
Maine. At this spot had been built many wonderful things--mainly the
inventions of the boys' friend and protector, Professor Henderson; but
the _Snowbird_, upon which Jack and Mark now gazed so proudly, was
altogether the boys' own work.
The sliding door of the hangar opened just behind the two boys and a
black face appeared.
"Is eeder ob you boys seen ma Shanghai rooster?" queried the black
man, plaintively. "I suah can't fin' him nowhars."
"What did you let him out of his coop for?" demanded Mark. "You're
always bothering us about that rooster, Washington. He is as elusive
as the Fourth Dimension."
"I dunno wot dat fourth condension is, Mass
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Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Andrew Templeton, Tonya
Allen, and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders.
HTML version by Al Haines.
TIVERTON TALES
BY
ALICE BROWN
1899
CONTENTS
DOORYARDS
A MARCH WIND
THE MORTUARY CHEST
HORN-O'-THE-MOON
A STOLEN FESTIVAL
A LAST ASSEMBLING
THE WAY OF PEACE
THE EXPERIENCE OF HANNAH PRIME
HONEY AND MYRRH
A SECOND MARRIAGE
THE FLAT-IRON LOT
THE END OF ALL LIVING
DOORYARDS
Tiverton has breezy, upland roads, and damp, sweet valleys; but should
you tarry there a summer long, you might find it wasteful to take many
excursions abroad. For, having once received the freedom of family
living, you will own yourself disinclined to get beyond dooryards,
those outer courts of domesticity. Homely joys spill over into them,
and, when children are afoot, surge and riot there. In them do the
common occupations of life find niche and channel. While bright weather
holds, we wash out of doors on a Monday morning, the wash-bench in the
solid block of shadow thrown by the house. We churn there, also, at the
hour when Sweet-Breath, the cow, goes afield, modestly unconscious of
her own sovereignty over the time. There are all the varying fortunes
of butter-making recorded. Sometimes it comes merrily to the tune of
"Come, butter, come!
Peter stands a-waiting at the gate,
Waiting for his butter-cake.
Come, butter, come!"
chanted in time with the dasher; again it doth willfully refuse, and
then, lest it be too cool, we contribute a dash of hot water, or too
hot, and we lend it a dash of cold. Or we toss in a magical handful of
salt, to encourage it. Possibly, if we be not the thriftiest of
householders, we feed the hens here in the yard, and then "shoo" them
away, when they would fain take profligate dust-baths under the
syringa, leaving unsightly hollows. But however, and with what
complexion, our dooryards may face the later year, they begin it with
purification. Here are they an unfailing index of the severer virtues;
for, in Tiverton, there is no housewife who, in her spring cleaning,
omits to set in order this outer pale of the temple. Long before the
merry months are well under way, or the cows go kicking up their heels
to pasture, or plants are taken from the south window and clapped into
chilly ground, orderly passions begin to riot within us, and we "clear
up" our yards. We gather stray chips, and pieces of bone brought in by
the scavenger dog, who sits now with his tail tucked under him,
oblivious of such vagrom ways. We rake the grass, and then, gilding
refined gold, we sweep it. There is a tradition that Miss Lois May once
went to the length of trimming her grass about the doorstone and
clothes-pole with embroidery scissors; but that was a too-hasty
encomium bestowed by a widower whom she rejected next week, and who
qualified his statement by saying they were pruning-shears.
After this preliminary skirmishing arises much anxious inspection of
ancient shrubs and the faithful among old-fashioned plants, to see
whether they have "stood the winter." The fresh, brown "piny" heads are
brooded over with a motherly care; wormwood roots are loosened, and the
horse-radish plant is given a thrifty touch. There is more than the
delight of occupation in thus stirring the wheels of the year. We are
Nature's poor handmaidens, and our labor gives us joy.
But sweet as these homespun spots can make themselves, in their mixture
of thrift and prodigality, they are dearer than ever at the points
where they register family traits, and so touch the humanity of us all.
Here is imprinted the story of the man who owns the farm, that of the
father who inherited it, and; the grandfather who reclaimed it from
waste; here have they and their womenkind set the foot of daily living
and traced indelible paths. They have left here the marks of tragedy,
of pathos, or of joy. One yard has a level bit of grassless ground
between barn and pump, and you may call it a battlefield, if you will,
since famine and desire have striven there together. Or, if you choose
to read fine meanings into threadbare things, you may see in it a field
of the cloth of gold, where simple love of life and childlike pleasure
met and sparkled for no eye to see. It was a croquet ground, laid out
in the days when croquet first inundated the land, and laid out by a
woman. This was Della Smith, the mother of two grave children, and the
wife of a farmer who never learned to smile. Eben was duller than the
ox which ploughs all day long for his handful of hay at night and his
heavy slumber; but Della, though she carried her end of the yoke with a
gallant spirit, had dreams and desires forever bursting from brown
shells, only to live a moment in the air, and then, like bubbles, die.
She had a perpetual appetite for joy. When the circus came to town, she
walked miles to see the procession; and, in a dream of satisfied
delight, dropped potatoes all the afternoon, to make up. Once, a
hand-organ and monkey strayed that way, and it was she alone who
followed them; for the children were little, and all the saner
house-mothers contented themselves with
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Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The errata listed at the end of the "Embellishments" were corrected
in this edition.
PARIS AND THE PARISIANS
IN 1835.
VOL. I.
Preparing for publication, by the same Author,
In 3 vols. post 8vo. with 15 Characteristic Engravings.
THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF
JONATHAN JEFFERSON WHITLAW
OR,
SCENES ON THE MISSISSIPPI.
PARIS AND THE PARISIANS,
IN 1835.
VOL. I.
[Illustration: Drawn & Etched by A. Hervieu.]
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
Publisher in Ordinary to His Majesty,
1835.
PARIS
AND
THE PARISIANS
IN 1835.
BY FRANCES TROLLOPE,
AUTHOR OF "DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE AMERICANS,"
"TREMORDYN CLIFF," &c.
"Le pire des états, c'est l'état populaire."--CORNEILLE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
Publisher in Ordinary to His Majesty.
1836.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
PREFACE.
From the very beginning of reading and writing--nay, doubtless from
the very beginning of speaking,--TRUTH, immortal TRUTH has been the
object of ostensible worship to all who read and to all who listen;
and, in the abstract, it is unquestionably held in sincere veneration
by all: yet, in the detail of every-day practice, the majority of
mankind often hate it, and are seen to bear pain, disappointment, and
sorrow more patiently than its honoured voice when it echoes not their
own opinion.
Preconceived notions generally take a much firmer hold of the mind
than can be obtained by any statement, however clear and plain, which
tends to overthrow them; and if it happen that these are connected
with an honest intention of being right, they are often mistaken for
principles;--in which case the attempt to shake them is considered not
merely as a folly, but a sin.
With this conviction strongly impressed upon my mind, it requires some
moral courage to publish these volumes; for they are written in
conformity to the opinions of... perhaps none,--and, worse still,
there is that in them which may be considered as contradictory to my
own. Had I before my late visit to Paris written a book for the
purpose of advocating the opinions I entertained on the state of the
country, it certainly would have been composed in a spirit by no means
according in all points with that manifested in the following pages:
but while profiting by every occasion which permitted me to mix with
distinguished people of all parties, I learnt much of which I was--in
common, I suspect, with many others--very profoundly ignorant. I found
good where I looked for mischief--strength where I anticipated
weakness--and the watchful wisdom of cautious legislators, most
usefully at work for the welfare of their country, instead of the
crude vagaries of a revolutionary government, active only in leading
blindfold the deluded populace who trusted to them.
The result of this was, first a wavering, and then a change of
opinion,--not as to the immutable laws which should regulate
hereditary succession, or the regret that it should ever have been
deemed expedient to violate them--but as to the wisest way in which
the French nation, situated as it actually is, can be governed, so as
best to repair the grievous injuries left by former convulsions, and
most effectually to guard against a recurrence of them in future.
That the present policy of France keeps these objects steadily in
view, and that much wisdom and courage are at work to advance them,
cannot be doubted; and those most anxious to advocate the sacred cause
of well-ordered authority amongst all the nations of the earth should
be the first to bear testimony to this truth.
London, December 1835.
CONTENTS
TO
THE FIRST VOLUME.
LETTER I.
Difficulty of giving a systematic account of what is doing
in France.--Pleasure of revisiting Paris after long
absence.--What is changed; what remains the same
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GREAT CATHERINE (WHOM GLORY STILL ADORES)
By George Bernard Shaw
"In Catherine's reign, whom Glory still adores"
BYRON
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR GREAT CATHERINE
Exception has been taken to the title of this seeming tomfoolery on the
ground that the Catherine it represents is not Great Catherine, but the
Catherine whose gallantries provide some of the lightest pages of modern
history. Great Catherine, it is said, was the Catherine whose diplomacy,
whose campaigns and conquests, whose plans of Liberal reform, whose
correspondence with Grimm and Voltaire enabled her to cut such a
magnificent figure in the eighteenth century. In reply, I can only
confess that Catherine's diplomacy and her conquests do not interest
me. It is clear to me that neither she nor the statesmen with whom she
played this mischievous kind of political chess had any notion of
the real history of their own times, or of the real forces that were
moulding Europe. The French Revolution, which made such short work of
Catherine's Voltairean principles, surprised and scandalized her as much
as it surprised and scandalized any provincial governess in the French
chateaux.
The main difference between her and our modern Liberal Governments was
that whereas she talked and wrote quite intelligently about Liberal
principles before she was frightened into making such talking and
writing a flogging matter, our Liberal ministers take the name of
Liberalism in vain without knowing or caring enough about its meaning
even to talk and scribble about it, and pass their flogging Bills, and
institute their prosecutions for sedition and blasphemy and so forth,
without the faintest suspicion that such proceedings need any apology
from the Liberal point of view.
It was quite easy for Patiomkin to humbug Catherine as to the condition
of Russia by conducting her through sham cities run up for the occasion
by scenic artists; but in the little world of European court intrigue
and dynastic diplomacy which was the only world she knew she was more
than a match for him and for all the rest of her contemporaries. In such
intrigue and diplomacy, however, there was no romance, no scientific
political interest, nothing that a sane mind can now retain even if
it can be persuaded to waste time in reading it up. But Catherine as a
woman with plenty of character and (as we should say) no morals,
still fascinates and amuses us as she fascinated and amused her
contemporaries. They were great sentimental comedians, these Peters,
Elizabeths, and Catherines who played their Tsarships as eccentric
character parts, and produced scene after scene of furious harlequinade
with the monarch as clown, and of tragic relief in the torture chamber
with the monarch as pantomime demon committing real atrocities, not
forgetting the indispensable love interest on an enormous and utterly
indecorous scale. Catherine kept this vast Guignol Theatre open for
nearly half a century, not as a Russian, but as a highly domesticated
German lady whose household routine was not at all so unlike that of
Queen Victoria as might be expected from the difference in their notions
of propriety in sexual relations.
In short, if Byron leaves you with an impression that he said very
little about Catherine, and that little not what was best worth saying,
I beg to correct your impression by assuring you that what Byron said
was all there really is to say that is worth saying. His Catherine is my
Catherine and everybody's Catherine. The young man who gains her favor
is a Spanish nobleman in his version. I have made him an English country
gentleman, who gets out of his rather dangerous scrape, by simplicity,
sincerity, and the courage of these qualities. By this I have given some
offence to the many Britons who see themselves as heroes: what they mean
by heroes being theatrical snobs of superhuman pretensions which, though
quite groundless, are admitted with awe by the rest of the human race.
They say I think an Englishman a fool. When I do, they have themselves
to thank.
I must not, however, pretend that historical portraiture was the motive
of a play that will leave the reader as ignorant of Russian history
as he may be now before he has turned the page. Nor is the sketch of
Catherine complete even idiosyncratically, leaving her politics out of
the question. For example, she wrote bushels of plays. I confess I
have not yet read any of them. The truth is, this play grew out of the
relations which inevitably exist in the theatre between authors and
actors. If the actors have sometimes to use their skill as the author's
puppets rather than in full self-expression, the author has sometimes to
use his skill as the actors' tailor, fitting them with parts written to
display the virtuosity of the performer rather than to solve problems of
life, character, or history. Feats of this kind may tickle an author's
technical vanity; but he is bound on such occasions to admit that the
performer for whom he writes is "the onlie begetter" of his work,
which must be regarded critically as an addition to the debt dramatic
literature owes to the art of acting and its exponents. Those who have
seen Miss Gertrude Kingston play the
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GREAT MYSTERIES
AND LITTLE PLAGUES.
BY JOHN NEAL.
BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1870.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by
ROBERTS BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Dist. of
Massachusetts.
STEREOTYPED BY REGAN & LEADBEATER,
55 Water Street.
[Illustration: CHILDREN--WHAT ARE THEY GOOD FOR?
"I'll give oo a _kith_ if oo want one!"]
PREFACE.
I hate prefaces; and the older I grow, the more I hate them, and the
more unwilling I am to transgress--in that way--with my eyes open.
But something must be said, I suppose, if only by way of an
advertisement, or warning.
When I had finished what one of my daughters persists in calling my
"NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY," and the other, "PERSONALITIES"--while my hair has
grown visibly thinner, I will not say under what kind of domestic
remonstrance from another quarter, and a very amiable, though witty
somebody writes it "_Maundering_ Recollections"--I had an idea that, if
I went further, I might be found "painting the lily, gilding refined
gold," etc., etc., and so I pulled up--for the present.
But this little book was already under way. I had promised it, and such
promises I always keep--and for the best of reasons: I cannot afford to
break them.
When I turned out the original of "Children--What are they good for?"
some forty years ago, or thereabouts, I had never met with, nor heard
of, anything in that way. Children were overlooked. Their droppings were
unheeded--out of the nursery. But now, and in fact very soon after my
little essay appeared in the "Atlantic Souvenir," if I do not mistake,
the papers and magazines, both abroad and at home, were continually
brightened up with diamond-sparks and with Down-easterly or "Orient
pearls, at random strung," which seemed to have been picked up in
play-grounds, or adrift, or along the highway; and itemizers were seen
dodging round among the little folks, wherever they were congregated, or
following them as the Chinese follow a stranger, if they see him make
wry faces.
For amusement only, and to keep myself out of mischief--I hope I have
succeeded--just after the fire, not having much to do beyond twirling my
thumbs, and trying to whistle "I cares for nobody, and nobody cares for
me," I began collecting such as fell in my way.
My first idea was to call them "KINDLING-STUFF," or
"OVEN-WOOD," as characteristic, if not of them, at least of the
compiler; but finding the collection grew upon me, and myself growing
serious, I adopted "PICKINGS AND STEALINGS," which, on the whole, I
think still more characteristic, beside being both suggestive and
descriptive.
"GOODY GRACIOUS, A FAIRY STORY," I wrote for the purpose of showing--and
_proving_--that fairy stories need not be crowded with extravagant
impossibilities, to engage the attention of our little folks; and that
if they are so contrived as to seem true, or at least possible, they
need not be unwholesome. Am I wrong?
And furthermore saith not, as Jacob Barker used to write, at the bottom
of his letters,
"Your respected friend,"
J. N.
CONTENTS.
I.--CHILDREN--WHAT ARE THEY GOOD FOR?
II.--GOODY GRACIOUS! AND THE FORGET-ME-NOT.
III.--PICKINGS AND STEALINGS.
CHILDREN--WHAT ARE THEY GOOD FOR?
The child is father of the man. Men are but children of a larger growth.
How often do we meet with this array of words! Yet how insensible we are
to the profound philosophy they enwrap. Sublime and astonishing truths!
Uttered every day in our hearing, set before our eyes at every step of
our journey through life, written over all the monuments of Earth, upon
the pages and banners of all History, upon the temples and the pyramids,
the palaces and the sepulchres of departed Nations, upon all the doings
of the Past and the Present, as with unextinguishable fire, and sounding
forever and ever in the unapproachable sol
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English Men of Action
WARWICK THE KINGMAKER
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
Copyright
First Edition 1891. Reprinted 1893, 1899, 1905
(Prize Library Edition) 1903, 1909, 1916
[Illustration: WARWICK
From the Rous Roll]
WARWICK THE KINGMAKER
by
CHARLES W. OMAN
Macmillan and Co., Limited
St. Martin's Street, London
1916
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
The Days of the Kingmaker 1
CHAPTER II
The House of Neville 12
CHAPTER III
Richard of Salisbury 19
CHAPTER IV
The Kingmaker's Youth 29
CHAPTER V
The Cause of York 38
CHAPTER VI
The Beginning of the Civil War: St. Albans 47
CHAPTER VII
Warwick Captain of Calais and Admiral 60
CHAPTER VIII
Warwick in Exile 79
CHAPTER IX
Victory and Disaster--Northampton and St.
Albans 93
CHAPTER X
Towton Field 107
CHAPTER XI
The Triumph of King Edward 128
CHAPTER XII
The Pacification of the North 137
CHAPTER XIII
The Quarrel of Warwick and King Edward 159
CHAPTER XIV
Playing with Treason 175
CHAPTER XV
Warwick for King Henry 193
CHAPTER XVI
The Return of King Edward 208
CHAPTER XVII
Barnet 228
CHAPTER I
THE DAYS OF THE KINGMAKER
Of all the great men of action who since the Conquest have guided the
course of English policy, it is probable that none is less known to the
reader of history than Richard Neville Earl of Warwick and Salisbury.
The only man of anything approaching his eminence who has been treated
with an equal neglect is Thomas Cromwell, and of late years the great
minister of Henry the Eighth is beginning to receive some of the
attention that is his due. But for the Kingmaker, the man who for ten
years was the first subject of the English Crown, and whose figure
looms out with a vague grandeur even through the misty annals of the
Wars of the Roses, no writer has spared a monograph. Every one, it is
true, knows his name, but his personal identity is quite ungrasped.
Nine persons out of ten if asked to sketch his character would find, to
their own surprise, that they were falling back for their information
to Lord Lytton's _Last of the Barons_ or Shakespeare's _Henry the
Sixth_.
An attempt, therefore, even an inadequate attempt, to trace out
with accuracy his career and his habits of mind from the original
authorities cannot fail to be of some use to the general reader as well
as to the student of history. The result will perhaps appear meagre
to those who are accustomed to the biographies of the men of later
centuries. We are curiously ignorant of many of the facts that should
aid us to build up a picture of the man. No trustworthy representation
of his bodily form exists. The day of portraits was not yet come; his
monument in Bisham Abbey has long been swept away; no writer has even
deigned to describe his personal appearance--we know not if he was dark
or fair, stout or slim. At most we may gather from the vague phrases
of the chroniclers, and from his quaint armed figure in the Rous Roll,
that he was of great stature and breadth of limb. But perhaps the good
Rous was thinking of his fame rather than his body, when he sketched
the Earl in that quaint pictorial pedigree over-topping all his race
save his cousin and king and enemy, Edward the Fourth.
But Warwick has only shared the fate of all his contemporaries. The
men of the fifteenth century are far less well known to us than are
their grandfathers or their grandsons. In the
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The SHERIFF OF BADGER
_A TALE OF THE SOUTHWEST BORDERLAND_
BY GEORGE PATTULLO
ILLUSTRATED
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK AND LONDON: MCMXII
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Copyright, 1909, 1911, by The Curtis Publishing Company
Copyright, 1911, 1912, by Street and Smith
Copyright, 1910, by the Pearson Publishing Company
_Published June, 1912_
Printed in the United States of America
Acknowledgments are due to _The Saturday Evening
Post_, _Pearson's Magazine_ and _The Popular Magazine_
for permission to use some of the material in this book.
TO
A. W. BALLANTYNE
[Illustration: The Sheriff of Badger]
CONTENTS
I LAFE JOHNSON ARRIVES AT LAZY L RANCH
II CERTAIN COMPLICATIONS RESULT
III CONCERNING A BABY'S WAIL
IV OUT OF A JOB
V AN INCIPIENT LOVE AFFAIR
VI DISCOMFITURE OF A GUNFIGHTER
VII JOHNSON IS ELECTED SHERIFF OF BADGER
VIII A FEUD AND WHAT CAME OF IT
IX AN INQUEST AND A SURPRISE
X A JOURNEY TO SATAN'S KINGDOM
XI A WAITRESS TO THE RESCUE
XII THE SHERIFF SETTLES A CONJUGAL DISPUTE
XIII AND HETTY COMES TO BADGER TO LIVE
XIV THE SHERIFF ENSNARED
XV HOW HE WON A WIFE
XVI THE GUNFIGHTER RETURNS AND DELAYS WEDDING
XVII JOHNSON MEETS A FRIEND OF HETTY'S
XVIII A SACRIFICE AND ITS PUNISHMENT
XIX BUFFALO JIM GIVES WISE COUNSEL
XX THE SHERIFF PURGES TOWN OF BADGER
XXI A FIGHT IN THE DARK
XXII CAPTURE OF MOFFATT, THE GUNMAN
XXIII THE WEDDING
XXIV THE BRIDE IS LOST
XXV JOHNSON BECOMES BOSS OF THE ANVIL
XXVI ENTERS TROUBLE
XXVII A CLEVER WOMAN AND A MISUNDERSTANDING
XXVIII RECONCILIATION--MRS. VINING EXPERIENCES A CHANGE OF HEART
XXIX LAFE HELPS A DESERTER
XXX AND DISCOVERS HETTY'S BROTHER
XXXI GREAT EXPECTATIONS IN JOHNSON FAMILY
XXXII BIRTH OF LAFE JOHNSON, JR.
XXXIII JOHNSON ONCE MORE IN ROLE OF SHERIFF
XXXIV HE ARRESTS A SUSPECT
XXXV THE DEATH DICE
XXXVI RESPONSIBILITY SITS HEAVILY ON LAFE
XXXVII BUT THE BOSS AGAIN PROVES HIS METTLE
XXXVIII HOW A MOFFATT HENCHMAN WAS OUSTED
XXXIX NEWS FROM BUFFALO JIM
XL HE ARRIVES TO VISIT THE JOHNSONS
XLI A NIGHT RIDE AND DEATH OF BUFFALO JIM
XLII MIDDLE LIFE
XLIII MOFFATT ONCE MORE
XLIV THE DUEL IN THE MALPAIS
XLV THE END
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
The Sheriff of Badger
"She and Johnson rode together every day"
"As Lafe was coming from dinner... a Mexican handed him a letter"
"So now Lafe, Jr., flattened out in his fissure in equal danger with his
father"
THE SHERIFF OF BADGER
CHAPTER I
LAFE JOHNSON ARRIVES AT THE LAZY L RANCH
It may come as a shock to many to learn that we have in cowland a
considerable number of full-blooded men who have never made it a
practice to step outside the door of a morning and shoot a
fellow-citizen before breakfast. This is true; vital statistics and
fiction to the contrary, notwithstanding. They are well-grown,
two-fisted men, also, and work very hard seven days in the week, and
whenever they go to town they get drunk. But in the main they are
law-abiding, and steal calves only for their employers.
There was Lafe Johnson. This story has him for its central figure.
"It's right queer about men," Lafe used to say, when in a reflective
mood. "A feller will knock in a friend what he'd be like to do himself.
And he'll act mean one day so he's sure ashamed of it the next. Yes,
sir; the best of 'em will. It all depends on how a man feels, I reckon,
and what shape his stomach's in. No man ain't always going to do the
right thing, and I've never met a feller yet who was all bad. What's
more, nobody thinks he's bad, or I expect he wouldn't be. Don't you
reckon
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MAGNUM BONUM
or, Mother Carey's Brood
By Charlotte M. Yonge
LIST OF CONTENTS.
I. JOE BROWNLOW'S FANCY
II. THE CHICKENS
III. THE WHITE SLATE
IV. THE STRAY CHICKENS
V. BRAINS AND NO BRAINS
VI. ENCHANTED GROUND
VII. THE COLONEL'S CHICKENS
VIII. THE FOLLY
IX. FLIGHTS
X. ELLEN'S MAGNUM BONUMS
XI. UNDINE
XII. KING MIDAS
XIII. THE RIVAL HEIRESSES
XIV. PUMPING AWAY
XV. THE BELFOREST MAGNUM BONUM
XVI. POSSESSION
XVII. POPINJAY PARLOUR
XVIII. AN OFFER FOR MAGNUM BONUM
XIX. THE SNOWY WINDING-SHEET
XX. A RACE
XXI. AN ACT OF INDEPENDENCE
XXII. SHUTTING THE STABLE DOOR
XXIII. THE LOST TREASURE
XXIV. THE ANGEL MOUNTAIN
XXV. THE LAND OF AFTERNOON
XXVI. MOONSHINE
XXVII. BLUEBEARD'S CLOSET
XXVIII. THE TURN OF THE WHEEL
XXIX. FRIENDS AND UNFRIENDS
XXX. AS WEEL OFF AS AYE WAGGING
XXXI. SLACK TIDE
XXXII. THE COST
XXXIII. BITTER FAREWELLS
XXXIV. BLIGHTED BEINGS
XXXV. THE PHANTOM BLACKCOCK OF KILNAUGHT
XXXVI. OF NO CONSEQUENCE
XXXVII. THE TRAVELLER'S JOY
XXXVIII. THE TRUST FULFILLED
XXXIX. THE TRUANT
XL. EVIL OUT OF GOOD
XLI. GOOD OUT OF EVIL
XLII. DISENCHANTED
MAGNUM BONUM
OR, MOTHER CAREY'S BROOD
CHAPTER I.--JOE BROWNLOW'S FANCY.
The lady said, "An orphan's fate
Is sad and hard to bear."--Scott.
"Mother, you could do a great kindness."
"Well, Joe?"
"If you would have the little teacher at the Miss Heath's here for the
holidays. After all the rest, she has had the measles last and worst,
and they don't know what to do with her, for she came from the asylum
for officers' daughters, and has no home at all, and they must go away
to have the house purified. They can't take her with them, for their
sister has children, and she will have to roam from room to room before
the whitewashers, which is not what I should wish in the critical state
of chest left by measles."
"What is her name?"
"Allen. The cry was always for Miss Allen when the sick girls wanted to
be amused."
"Allen! I wonder if it can be the same child as the one Robert was
interested about. You don't remember, my dear. It was the year you were
at Vienna, when one of Robert's brother-officers died on the voyage out
to China, and he sent home urgent letters for me to canvass right and
left for the orphan's election. You know Robert writes much better than
he speaks, and I copied over and over again his account of the poor
young man to go with the cards. 'Caroline Otway Allen, aged seven years,
whole orphan, daughter of Captain Allen, l07th Regiment;' yes, that's
the way it ran."
"The year I was at Vienna, and Robert went out to China. That was eleven
years ago. She must be the very child, for she is only eighteen. They
sent her to Miss Heath's to grow a little older, for though she was at
the head of everything at the asylum, she looks so childish that they
can't send her out as a governess. Did you see her, mother?"
"Oh, no! I never had anything to do with her; but if she is daughter to
a friend of Robert's--"
Mother and son looked at each other in congratulation. Robert was the
stepson, older by several years, and was viewed as the representative of
sober common sense in the family. Joe and his mother did like to feel
a plan quite free from Robert's condemnation for enthusiasm or
impracticability, and it was not the worse for his influence, that he
had been generally with his regiment, and when visiting them was a good
deal at the United Service Club. He had lately married an heiress in a
small way, retired from the army, and settled in a house of hers in a
country town, and thus he could give his dicta with added weight.
Only a parent or elder brother would, however, have looked on "Joe" as
a youth, for he was some years over thirty, with a mingled air of
keenness, refinement, and alacrity about his slight but active form,
altogether with the air of some implement, not meant for ornament but
for use, and yet absolutely beautiful, through perfection of polish,
finish, applicability, and a sharpness never meant to wound, but
deserving to be cherished in a velvet case.
This case might be the pretty drawing-room,
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LORD LYONS
VOLUME II
[Illustration: _Lord Lyons, at the age of 65._
LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD.]
LORD LYONS
A RECORD OF BRITISH DIPLOMACY
BY
LORD NEWTON
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOLUME II
WITH PORTRAITS
LONDON
EDWARD ARNOLD
1913
_All rights reserved_
CONTENTS OF VOL. II
CHAPTER X
THE THIRD REPUBLIC
1871-1873
PAGE
Thiers as Chief of the Executive--Negotiations respecting a new
Anglo-French Commercial Treaty--Return of the Princes--Embarrassment
caused by the Comte de Chambord--Question
of voting in the House of Lords--Thiers elected President--State
of parties in France--Irritation in Germany against Thiers--Diplomatic
incident at Constantinople--Signature of Anglo-French
Commercial Treaty--Death of the Emperor Napoleon--Lord
Odo Russell on Bismarck's policy--Fall of Thiers--Bismarck
and Arnim 1
CHAPTER XI
MARSHAL MACMAHON'S PRESIDENCY
1873-1875
MacMahon as President of the Republic--Franco-German
relations--Bismarck's confidences to Lord Odo Russell--Political
confusion in France--The war scare of 1875--Rumoured intention
of Khedive to sell his Suez Canal shares--Lord Odo Russell on
Bismarck's Foreign Policy--Purchase of Khedive's shares by H.M.
Government 47
CHAPTER XII
THE EASTERN QUESTION
1876-1878
The Powers and Turkey: England and the Andrassy Note--Gambetta
on French Politics--Simplicity of Marshal MacMahon--Political
consequences of French military re-organisation--Struggle
between the Marshal and Parliament--The Constantinople
Conference: Determination of Lord Derby to do nothing--Intrigues
of the Duc Decazes--Constitutional crisis in
France--Defeat of Marshal MacMahon: new Radical Ministry
formed under Dufaure with Waddington as Foreign Minister--Treaty
of San Stefano; nervousness of French Government--Determination
of H.M. Government to secure a Conference--Invitation
to Lord Lyons to be the British representative at
Berlin--Resignation of Lord Derby: appointment of Lord
Salisbury--Lord Salisbury's circular of April 1st, 1878--Inquiry
of Lord Salisbury respecting French desire for Tunis--The Anglo-Turkish
Convention--The Congress of Berlin--Reception in
France of the Anglo-Turkish Convention--Waddington and
Tunis--Sir H. Layard on the Treaty of Berlin 95
CHAPTER XIII
M. GREVY'S PRESIDENCY
1878-1879
Paris Exhibition of 1878: desire of Queen Victoria to visit it
incognito--Tunis--Resignation of MacMahon: Election of
Grevy--Waddington Prime Minister: his difficulties--Anglo-French
policy in Egypt--Question of deposing the Khedive
Ismail--Differences between British and French Governments
with regard to Egypt--Deposition of the Khedive by the Sultan--Death
of the Prince Imperial: effect in France--Proposed
visit of Gambetta to England: his bias in favour of English
Conservatives--Resignation of Waddington: Freycinet Prime
Minister--Coolness between France and Russia 161
CHAPTER XIV
THE REVIVAL OF FRANCE
1880-1881
Change of Government in England and reversal of Foreign Policy--The
French Embassy in London: Freycinet's model Ambassador--Personal
characteristics of Lord Lyons: _On ne lui connait
pas de vice_--The work at the Paris Embassy--The Eastern
Question: Mr. Goschen at Constantinople--The Dulcigno
Demonstration and the difficulties of the European Concert--Proposal
to seize Smyrna--Opportune surrender of the Sultan--H.M.
Government and the Pope: Mission of Mr. Errington,
M.P.--Gambetta on the European situation--French expedition
to Tunis--Ineffectual objections of H.M. Government--Establishment
of French Protectorate over Tunis--Irritation in England
and Italy--Distinction drawn between Tunis and Tripoli--Attempt
to negotiate a new Anglo-French Commercial
Treaty: Question of Retaliation 209
CHAPTER XV
ARABI'S REBELLION
1881-1882
Egypt: the _coup d'etat_ of the Colonels: joint Anglo-French
action--Gambetta as Prime Minister--His desire to remain on good
terms with England--
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LIFE AND CONFESSION
OF
SOPHIA HAMILTON,
WHO WAS
TRIED, CONDEMNED AND SENTENCED TO BE
HUNG,
AT MONTREAL, L. C. ON THE 4TH OF AUGUST, 1845,
FOR THE
PERPETRATION OF THE MOST SHOCKING MURDERS AND DARING
ROBBERIES PERHAPS RECORDED IN THE ANNALS
OF CRIME.
[Illustration]
CAREFULLY SELECTED BY THE AUTHOR,
WILLIAM H. JACKSON.
MONTREAL, L. C.
PRINTED FOR THE PUBLISHER
1845.
[Illustration: THE ROAD OBSTRUCTED, AND THE TRAVELLERS MURDERED.
p. 12.]
LIFE AND CONFESSION OF SOPHIA HAMILTON.
It has probably never fallen to the lot of man to record a list of more
cruel, heart-rending, atrocious, cold-blooded murders and daring
robberies than have been perpetrated by the subjects of this narrative,
and that too in the midst of a highly civilized and Christian community;
deeds too, which, for the depravity of every human feeling, seem
scarcely to have found a parallel in the annals of crime. And it seems
doubly shocking and atrocious when we find them perpetrated by one of
the female sex, which sex has always and in all countries been esteemed
as having a higher regard for virtue, and far greater aversion to acts
of barbarity, even in the most vitiated,
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THE GOLDEN BOWL
Volumes I and II, Complete
By Henry James
1904
BOOK FIRST: THE PRINCE
PART FIRST
I
The Prince had always liked his London, when it had come to him; he was
one of the modern Romans who find by the Thames a more convincing image
of the truth of the ancient state than any they have left by the Tiber.
Brought up on the legend of the City to which the world paid tribute, he
recognised in the present London much more than in contemporary Rome the
real dimensions of such a case. If it was a question of an Imperium, he
said to himself, and if one wished, as a Roman, to recover a little the
sense of that, the place to do so was on London Bridge, or even, on a
fine afternoon in May, at Hyde Park Corner. It was not indeed to either
of those places that these grounds of his predilection, after all
sufficiently vague, had, at the moment we are concerned with him, guided
his steps; he had strayed, simply enough, into Bond Street, where his
imagination, working at comparatively short range, caused him now and
then to stop before a window in which objects massive and lumpish, in
silver and gold, in the forms to which precious stones contribute, or
in leather, steel, brass, applied to a hundred uses and abuses, were as
tumbled together as if, in the insolence of the Empire, they had been
the loot of far-off victories. The young man's movements, however,
betrayed no consistency of attention--not even, for that matter, when
one of his arrests had proceeded from possibilities in faces shaded,
as they passed him on the pavement, by huge beribboned hats, or more
delicately tinted still under the tense silk of parasols held at
perverse angles in waiting victorias. And the Prince's undirected
thought was not a little symptomatic, since, though the turn of
the season had come and the flush of the streets begun to fade, the
possibilities of faces, on the August afternoon, were still one of the
notes of the scene. He was too restless--that was the fact--for any
concentration, and the last idea that would just now have occurred to
him in any connection was the idea of pursuit.
He had been pursuing for six months as never in his life before, and
what had actually unsteadied him, as we join him, was the sense of how
he had been justified. Capture had crowned the pursuit--or success,
as he would otherwise have put it, had rewarded virtue; whereby the
consciousness of these things made him, for the hour, rather serious
than gay. A sobriety that might have consorted with failure sat in his
handsome face, constructively regular and grave, yet at the same time
oddly and, as might be, functionally almost radiant, with its dark
blue eyes, its dark brown moustache and its expression no more sharply
"foreign" to an English view than to have caused it sometimes to be
observed of him with a shallow felicity that he looked like a "refined"
Irishman. What had happened was that shortly before, at three o'clock,
his fate had practically been sealed, and that even when one pretended
to no quarrel with it the moment had something of the grimness of a
crunched key in the strongest lock that could be made. There was nothing
to do as yet, further, but feel what one had done, and our personage
felt it while he aimlessly wandered. It was already as if he were
married, so definitely had the solicitors, at three o'clock, enabled the
date to be fixed, and by so few days was that date now distant. He was
to dine at half-past eight o'clock with the young lady on whose behalf,
and on whose father's, the London lawyers had reached an inspired
harmony with his own man of business, poor Calderoni, fresh from Rome
and now apparently in the wondrous situation of being "shown London,"
before promptly leaving it again, by Mr. Verver himself, Mr. Verver
whose easy way with his millions had taxed to such small purpose, in the
arrangements, the principle of reciprocity. The reciprocity with which
the Prince was during these minutes most struck was that of Calderoni's
bestowal of his company for a view of the lions. If there was one thing
in the world the young man, at this juncture, clearly intended, it was
to be much more decent as a son-in-law than lots of fellows he could
think of had shown themselves in that character. He thought of these
fellows, from whom he was so to differ, in English; he used, mentally,
the English term to describe his difference, for, familiar with the
tongue from his earliest years, so that no note of strangeness remained
with him either for lip or for ear, he found it convenient, in life, for
the greatest number of relations. He found it convenient, oddly, even
for his relation with himself--though not unmindful that there might
still, as time went on, be others, including a more intimate degree of
that one, that would seek, possibly with violence, the larger or the
finer issue--which was it?--of the vernacular. Miss Verver had told him
he spoke English too well--it was his only fault, and he had not been
able to speak worse even to oblige her. "When I speak worse, you see,
I speak French," he had said; intimating thus that there were
discriminations, doubtless of the invidious kind, for which that
language was the most apt. The girl had taken this, she let him know,
as a reflection on her own French, which she had always so dreamed of
making good, of making better; to say nothing of his evident feeling
that the idiom supposed a cleverness she was not a person to rise to.
The Prince's answer to such remarks--genial, charming, like every answer
the parties to his new arrangement had yet had from him--was that he was
practising his American in order to converse properly, on equal terms as
it were, with Mr. Verver. His prospective father-in-law had a command of
it, he said, that put him at a disadvantage in any discussion; besides
which--well, besides which he had made to the girl the observation that
positively, of all his observations yet, had most finely touched her.
"You know I think he's a REAL galantuomo--'and no mistake.' There are
plenty of sham ones about. He seems to me simply the best man I've ever
seen in my life."
"Well, my dear, why shouldn't he be?" the girl had gaily inquired.
It was this, precisely, that had set the Prince to think. The things, or
many of them, that had made Mr. Verver what he was seemed practically
to bring a charge of waste against the other things that, with the other
people known to the young man, had failed of such a result. "Why, his
'form,'" he had returned, "might have made one doubt."
"Father's form?" She hadn't seen it. "It strikes me he hasn't got any."
"He hasn't got mine--he hasn't even got yours."
"Thank you for 'even'!" the girl had laughed at him. "Oh, yours, my
dear, is tremendous. But your father has his own. I've made that out. So
don't doubt it. It's where it has brought him out--that's the point."
"It's his goodness that has brought him out," our young woman had, at
this, objected.
"Ah, darling, goodness, I think, never brought anyone out. Goodness,
when it's real, precisely, rather keeps people in." He had been
interested in his discrimination, which amused him. "No, it's his WAY.
It belongs to him."
But she had wondered still. "It's the American way. That's all."
"Exactly--it's all. It's all, I say! It fits him--so it must be good for
something."
"Do you think it would be good for you?" Maggie Verver had smilingly
asked.
To which his reply had been just of the happiest. "I don't feel, my
dear, if you really want to know, that anything much can now either hurt
me or help me. Such as I am--but you'll see for yourself. Say, however,
I am a galantuomo--which I devoutly hope: I'm like a chicken, at best,
chopped up and smothered in sauce; cooked down as a creme de volaille,
with half the parts left out. Your father's the natural fowl running
about the bassecour. His feathers, movements, his sounds--those are the
parts that, with me, are left out."
"All, as a matter of course--since you can't eat a chicken alive!"
The Prince had not been annoyed at this, but he had been positive.
"Well, I'm eating your father alive--which is the only way to taste him.
I want to continue, and as it's when he talks American that he is most
alive, so I must also cultivate it, to get my pleasure. He couldn't make
one like him so much in any other language."
It mattered little that the girl had continued to demur--it was the mere
play of her joy. "I think he could make you like him in Chinese."
"It would be an unnecessary trouble. What I mean is that he's a kind
of result of his inevitable tone. My liking is accordingly FOR the
tone--which has made him possible."
"Oh, you'll hear enough of it," she laughed, "before you've done with
us."
Only this, in truth, had made him frown a little.
"What do you mean, please, by my having 'done' with you?"
"Why, found out about us all there is to find."
He had been able to take it indeed easily as a joke. "Ah, love, I
began with that. I know enough, I feel, never to be surprised. It's you
yourselves meanwhile," he continued, "who really know nothing. There are
two parts of me"--yes, he had been moved to go on. "One is made up of
the history, the doings, the marriages, the crimes, the follies, the
boundless betises of other people--especially of their infamous waste
of money that might have come to me. Those things are written--literally
in rows of volumes, in libraries; are as public as they're abominable.
Everybody can get at them, and you've, both of you, wonderfully, looked
them in the face. But there's another part, very much smaller
doubtless, which, such as it is, represents my single self, the unknown,
unimportant, unimportant--unimportant save to YOU--personal quantity.
About this you've found out nothing."
"Luckily, my dear," the girl had bravely said; "for what then would
become, please, of the promised occupation of my future?"
The young man remembered even now how extraordinarily CLEAR--he couldn't
call it anything else--she had looked, in her prettiness, as she had
said it. He also remembered what he had been moved to reply. "The
happiest reigns, we are taught, you know, are the reigns without any
history."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of history!" She had been sure of that. "Call it the
bad part, if you like--yours certainly sticks out of you. What was it
else," Maggie Verver had also said, "that made me originally think of
you? It wasn't--as I should suppose you must have seen--what you call
your unknown quantity, your particular self. It was the generations
behind you, the follies and the crimes, the plunder and the waste--the
wicked Pope, the monster most of all, whom so many of the volumes in
your family library are all about. If I've read but two or three yet, I
shall give myself up but the more--as soon as I have time--to the rest.
Where, therefore"--she had put it to him again--"without your archives,
annals, infamies, would you have been?"
He recalled what, to this, he had gravely returned. "I might have been
in a somewhat better pecuniary situation." But his actual situation
under the head in question positively so little mattered to them that,
having by that time lived deep into the sense of his advantage, he had
kept no impression of the girl's rejoinder. It had but sweetened the
waters in which he now floated, tinted them as by the action of
some essence, poured from a gold-topped phial, for making one's bath
aromatic. No one before him, never--not even the infamous Pope--had
so sat up to his neck in such a bath. It showed, for that matter, how
little one of his race could escape, after all, from history. What was
it but history, and of THEIR kind very much, to have the assurance of
the enjoyment of more money than the palace-builder himself could have
dreamed of? This was the element that bore him up and into which Maggie
scattered, on occasion, her exquisite colouring drops. They were of the
colour--of what on earth? of what but the extraordinary American good
faith? They were of the colour of her innocence, and yet at the same
time of her imagination, with which their relation, his and these
people's, was all suffused. What he had further said on the occasion of
which we thus represent him as catching the echoes from his own thoughts
while he loitered--what he had further said came back to him, for it had
been the voice itself of his luck, the soothing sound that was always
with him. "You Americans are almost incredibly romantic."
"Of course we are. That's just what makes everything so nice for us."
"Everything?" He had wondered.
"Well, everything that's nice at all. The world, the beautiful,
world--or everything in it that is beautiful. I mean we see so much."
He had looked at her a moment--and he well knew how she had struck him,
in respect to the beautiful world, as one of the beautiful, the
most beautiful things. But what he had answered was: "You see too
much--that's what may sometimes make you difficulties. When you don't,
at least," he had amended with a further thought, "see too little."
But he had quite granted that he knew what she meant, and his warning
perhaps was needless.
He had seen the follies of the romantic disposition, but there seemed
somehow no follies in theirs--nothing, one was obliged to recognise, but
innocent pleasures, pleasures without penalties. Their enjoyment was
a tribute to others without being a loss to themselves. Only the funny
thing, he had respectfully submitted, was that her father, though older
and wiser, and a man into the bargain, was as bad--that is as good--as
herself.
"Oh, he's better," the girl had freely declared "that is he's worse.
His relation to the things he cares for--and I think it beautiful--is
absolutely romantic. So is his whole life over here--it's the most
romantic thing I know."
"You mean his idea for his native place?"
"Yes--the collection, the Museum with which he wishes to endow it, and
of which he thinks more, as you know, than of anything in the world.
It's the work of his life and the motive of everything he does."
The young man, in his actual mood, could have smiled again--smiled
delicately, as he had then smiled at her. "Has it been his motive in
letting me have you?"
"Yes, my dear, positively--or in a manner," she had said.
"American City isn't, by the way, his native town, for, though he's not
old, it's a young thing compared with him--a younger one. He started
there, he has a feeling about it, and the place has grown, as he says,
like the programme of a charity performance. You're at any rate a part
of his collection," she had explained--"one of the things that can only
be got over here. You're a rarity, an object of beauty, an object of
price. You're not perhaps absolutely unique, but you're so curious and
eminent that there are very few others like you--you belong to a class
about which everything is known. You're what they call a morceau de
musee."
"I see. I have the great sign of it," he had risked--"that I cost a lot
of money."
"I haven't the least idea," she had gravely answered, "what you
cost"--and he had quite adored, for the moment, her way of saying it. He
had felt even, for the moment, vulgar. But he had made the best of that.
"Wouldn't you find out if it were a question of parting with me? My
value would in that case be estimated."
She had looked at him with her charming eyes, as if his value were well
before her. "Yes, if you mean that I'd pay rather than lose you."
And then there came again what this had made him say. "Don't talk about
ME--it's you who are not of this age. You're a creature of a braver and
finer one, and the cinquecento, at its most golden hour, wouldn't have
been ashamed of you. It would of me, and if I didn't know some of the
pieces your father has acquired, I should rather fear, for American
City, the criticism of experts. Would it at all events be your idea," he
had then just ruefully asked, "to send me there for safety?"
"Well, we may have to come to it."
"I'll go anywhere you want."
"We must see first--it will be only if we have to come to it. There are
things," she had gone on, "that father puts away--the bigger and more
cumbrous of course, which he stores, has already stored in masses, here
and in Paris, in Italy, in Spain, in warehouses, vaults, banks, safes,
wonderful secret places. We've been like a pair of pirates--positively
stage pirates, the sort who wink at each other and say 'Ha-ha!' when
they come to where their treasure is buried. Ours
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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/Canadian Libraries.)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
1) Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.
2) A few chapter sub-headings do not end with a period. For consistency,
obvious errors have been corrected by ending these with a period.
3) A few obvious misprints where sentences did not end with a period have
been corrected.
4) The words "manoeuvres" and "manoeuvre" use oe ligature in the original.
5) The following misprints have been corrected:
"which we pet in our" corrected to "which we put in our" (page 243)
"Britian" corrected to "Britain" (page 271)
6) Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in
spelling, punctuation, hyphenation and ligature usage have been retained.
DUE SOUTH
OR
CUBA PAST AND PRESENT
BY
MATURIN M. BALLOU
AUTHOR OF "DUE WEST; OR ROUND THE WORLD IN TEN MONTHS"
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
Copyright, 1885,
By MATURIN M. BALLOU.
_All rights reserved._
ELEVENTH IMPRESSION
_The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
PREFACE.
The public favor accorded to a late volume by the author of these
pages, entitled "Due West; or Round the World in Ten Months," has
suggested both the publication and the title of the volume in hand,
which consists of notes of a voyage to the tropics, and a sojourn
in Cuba during the last winter. The endeavor has been to present a
comprehensive view of the island, past and present, and to depict
the political and moral darkness which have so long enshrouded it.
A view of its interesting inhabitants, with a glance at its beautiful
flora and vegetation generally, has been a source of such hearty
enjoyment to the author that he desires to share the pleasure with
the appreciative reader. The great importance of the geographical
position of the island, its present critical condition, and the
proposed treaty of commerce with this country, together render it
at present of unusual interest in the eyes of the world. If possible,
Cuba is more Castilian than peninsular Spain, and both are so Moorish
as to present a fascinating study of national characteristics.
M. M. B.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Departure. -- On Board Ship. -- Arrival at Nassau. -- Capital
of the Bahamas. -- Climate. -- Soil. -- Fruits and Flowers.
-- Magic Fertility. -- <DW52> Population. -- The Blockade
Runners. -- Population. -- Products. -- A Picturesque Local
Scene. -- Superstition. -- Fish Story. -- The Silk-Cotton
Tree. -- Remarkable Vegetation. -- The Sea Gardens. -- Marine
Animal Life. -- The Bahama Banks. -- Burial at Sea. -- Venal
Officials. -- Historical Characters. -- The Early Buccaneers.
-- Diving for Drinking-Water. 1
CHAPTER II.
Among the Islands. -- San Salvador. -- A Glimpse at the
Stars. -- Hayti. -- The Gulf Stream. -- The Caribbean Sea. --
Latitude and Longitude. -- The Southern Coast of Cuba. -- A
Famous Old Fortress. -- Fate of Political Prisoners. -- The
Oldest City in Cuba. -- The Aborigines. -- Cuban Cathedrals.
-- Drinking Saloons. -- Dogs, Horses, and Coolies. -- Scenes
in Santiago de Cuba. -- Devoured by Sharks. -- Lying at
Anchor. -- Wreck of a Historic Ship. -- Cuban Circulating
Medium. -- Tropical Temperature. 24
CHAPTER III.
Doubling Cape Cruz. -- Trinidad. -- Cienfuegos. -- The Plaza.
-- Beggars. -- Visit to a Sugar Plantation. -- Something
about Sugar. -- An Original Character. -- A Tropical Fruit
Garden. -- Cuban Hospitality. -- The Banana. -- Lottery
Tickets. -- Chinese Coolies. -- Blindness in Cuba. -- Birds
and Poultry. -- The Cock-Pit. -- <DW64> Slavery, To-Day. --
Spanish Slaveholders. -- A Slave Mutiny. -- A Pleasant
Journey across the Island. -- Pictures of the Interior. --
Scenery about Matanzas. -- The Tropics and the North
contrasted. 46
CHAPTER IV.
The Great Genoese Pilot. -- Discovery of Cuba. -- Its Various
Names. -- Treatment of the Natives. -- Tobacco! -- Flora of
the Island. -- Strange Idols. -- Antiquity. -- Habits of the
Aborigines. -- Remarkable Speech of an Indian King. -- A
Native Entertainment. -- Paying Tribute. -- Ancient Remains.
-- Wrong Impression of Columbus. -- First Attempt at
Colonization. -- Battle with the Indians.
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Produced by Melissa McDaniel, Charlie Howard, Rachael
Schultz and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal
signs=. Superscripts are prefixed with a ^caret. In Table D on
page 283, a symbol for "per" has been replaced with the word per.
Footnote numbering, which in the original restarted at "1" with every
chapter, has been prepended with OP (Original Preface), NP
(New Preface), M (Memoir), or the Roman chapter number (e.g. VI-7 for
the 7th note of chapter 6).
The table on pages 346 and 347 has been split to reduce the line
lengths.
In Footnote M-6, 1892 should probably be 1792.
On page 216, the barometer reading for August 25th seems to be missing
a digit.
This book is the first of three volumes. Volume 2 is available at
http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/43775. Volume 3 is available at
http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/43776. It contains an Index and Maps.
Pike's Expeditions.
VOLUME I.
EDITION LIMITED TO ELEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES.
Nos. 1 to 150 on Handmade Paper.
Nos. 151 to 1150 on Fine Book Paper.
No. ____
[Illustration: Z. M. Pike]
THE EXPEDITIONS
OF
ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE,
To Headwaters of the Mississippi River,
Through Louisiana Territory, and in New Spain,
During the Years 1805-6-7.
A NEW EDITION,
NOW FIRST REPRINTED IN FULL FROM THE ORIGINAL OF 1810,
WITH COPIOUS CRITICAL COMMENTARY,
MEMOIR OF PIKE, NEW MAP AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS,
AND COMPLETE INDEX,
BY
ELLIOTT COUES,
Late Captain and Assistant Surgeon, United States Army,
Late Secretary and Naturalist, United States Geological Survey,
Member of the National Academy of Sciences,
Editor of Lewis and Clark,
etc., etc., etc.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
Memoir of the Author--Mississippi Voyage.
NEW YORK:
FRANCIS P. HARPER.
1895.
COPYRIGHT, 1895,
BY
FRANCIS P. HARPER,
New York.
All rights reserved.
Dedication.
TO THE PRESIDENT AND MEMBERS OF THE U. S. M. P. S.
Fellow Soldiers and Citizens:
In presuming to claim your protection and patronage for the following
production, I feel less diffidence, knowing that the very institution
of the society will plead in my favor, it being avowedly formed for
the promotion of military knowledge.
The work is merely a volume of details, and if it should be found
that in the relation I have delivered myself with perspicuity and
exactitude, it is the highest meed of praise that I claim. When I
touched on abstract subjects, or presumed to hypothesize, I have
merely suggested doubts without conclusions, which, if deemed worthy,
may hereafter be analyzed by men of genius and science. It being a
work which has arisen from the events of youthful military exertions,
the author, perhaps, has the most just and well-founded ground for a
hope that it may receive the solicited approbation of your honorable
institution.
I am, gentlemen, with the greatest respect and high consideration,
Your obedient servant,
Z. M. PIKE,
Major 6th Regt. Infantry,
M. U. S. M. P. Society.
CONTENTS OF VOL I.
PAGES
ORIGINAL PREFACE, i-iv
NEW PREFACE, v-xviii*
MEMOIR OF ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE, xix-cxiv
PART I.
THE MISSISSIPPI VOYAGE.
CHAPTER I.
ITINERARY: ST. LOUIS TO ST. PAUL, AUGUST 9TH-SEPTEMBER
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XIV***
E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Charlie Kirschner, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
LORD'S LECTURES
BEACON LIGHTS OF HISTORY, VOLUME XIV
THE NEW ERA
A Supplementary Volume, by Recent Writers,
as Set Forth in the Preface and Table of Contents.
BY JOHN LORD, LL.D.,
AUTHOR OF "THE OLD ROMAN WORLD," "MODERN EUROPE,"
ETC., ETC.
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE.
In preparing the new edition of Dr. Lord's great work, it has been
thought desirable to do what the venerable author's death in 1894 did
not permit him to accomplish, and add a volume summarizing certain broad
aspects of achievement in the last fifty years. It were manifestly
impossible to cover in any single volume--except in the dry, cyclopaedic
style of chronicling multitudinous facts, so different from the vivid,
personal method of Dr. Lord--all the growths of the wonderful period
just closed. The only practicable way has been to follow our author's
principle of portraying _selected historic forces_,--to take, as
representative or typical of the various departments, certain great
characters whose services have signalized them as "Beacon Lights" along
the path of progress, and to secure adequate portrayal of these by men
known to be competent for interesting exposition of the several themes.
Thus the volume opens with a paper on "Richard Wagner: Modern Music," by
Henry T. Finck, the musical critic of the _New York Evening Post_, and
author of various works on music, travel, etc.; and then follow in order
these: "John Ruskin: Modern Art," by G. Mercer Adam, author of "A Precis
of English History," recently editor of the _Self-Culture Magazine_ and
of the Werner Supplements to the Encyclopaedia Britannica; "Herbert
Spencer: The Evolutionary Philosophy," and "Charles Darwin: His Place in
Modern Science," both by Mayo W. Hazeltine, literary editor of the _New
York Sun_, whose book reviews over the signature "M.W.H." have for years
made the _Sun's_ book-page notable; "John Ericsson: Navies of War and
Commerce," by Prof. W.F. Durand, of the School of Marine Engineering and
the Mechanic Arts in Cornell University; "Li Hung Chang: The Far East,"
by Dr. William A. P. Martin, the distinguished missionary, diplomat, and
author, recently president of the Imperial University, Peking, China;
"David Livingstone: African Exploration," by Cyrus C. Adams,
geographical and historical expert, and a member of the editorial staff
of the _New York Sun_; "Sir Austen H. Layard: Modern Archaeology," by
Rev. William Hayes Ward, D.D., editor of _The Independent_, New York,
himself eminent in Oriental exploration and decipherment; "Michael
Faraday: Electricity and Magnetism," by Prof. Edwin J. Houston of
Philadelphia, an accepted authority in electrical engineering; and,
"Rudolf Virchow: Modern Medicine and Surgery," by Dr. Frank P. Foster,
physician, author, and editor of the _New York Medical Journal_.
The selection of themes must be arbitrary, amid the numberless lines of
development during the "New Era" of the Nineteenth Century, in which
every mental, moral, and physical science and art has grown and
diversified and fructified with a rapidity seen in no other five
centuries. It is hoped, however, that the choice will be justified by
the interest of the separate papers, and that their result will be such
a view of the main features as to leave a distinct impression of the
general life and advancement, especially of the last half of
the century.
It is proper to say that the preparation and issuance of Dr. Lord's
"Beacon Lights of History" were under the editorial care of Mr. John E.
Howard of Messrs. Fords, Howard, and Hulbert, the original publishers of
the work, while the proof-sheets also received the critical attention of
Mr. Abram W. Stevens, one of the accomplished readers of the University
Press in Cambridge, Mass. Mr. Howard has also supervised the new
edition, including this final volume, which issues from the same choice
typographical source.
NEW YORK, September, 1902.
CONTENTS.
RICHARD WAGNER.
MODERN Music.
BY HENRY T. FINCK.
Youth-time; early ambitions as a composer.
Weber, his fascinator and first inspirer.
"Der Freischuetz" and "Euryanthe" prototypes of his operas
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Eternal Life
By Professor
Henry
Drummond
Philadelphia
Henry Altemus
Copyright 1896 by Henry Altemus.
ETERNAL LIFE.
"This is Life Eternal--that they might know Thee, the True God, and
Jesus Christ whom Thou has sent."--_Jesus Christ_.
"Perfect correspondence would be perfect life. Were there no changes in
the environment but such as the organism had adapted changes to meet,
and were it never to fail in the efficiency with which it met them,
there would be eternal existence and eternal knowledge."--_Herbert
Spencer_.
ONE of the most startling achievements of recent science is a definition
of Eternal Life. To the religious mind this is a contribution of immense
moment. For eighteen hundred years only one definition of Life Eternal
was before the world. Now there are two.
Through all these centuries revealed religion had this doctrine to
itself. Ethics had a voice, as well as Christianity, on the question of
the _summum bonum_; Philosophy ventured to speculate on the Being of a
God. But no source outside Christianity contributed anything to the
doctrine of Eternal Life. Apart from Revelation, this great truth was
unguaranteed. It was the one thing in the Christian system that most
needed verification from without, yet none was forthcoming. And never
has any further light been thrown upon the question why in its very
nature the Christian Life should be Eternal. Christianity itself even
upon this point has been obscure. Its decision upon the bare fact is
authoritative and specific. But as to what there is in the Spiritual
Life necessarily endowing it with the element of Eternity, the maturest
theology is all but silent.
It has been reserved for modern biology at once to defend and illuminate
this central truth of the Christian faith. And hence in the interests of
religion, practical and evidential, this second and scientific
definition of Eternal Life is to be hailed as an announcement of
commanding interest. Why it should not yet have received the recognition
of religious thinkers--for already it has lain some years unnoticed--is
not difficult to understand. The belief in Science as an aid to faith is
not yet ripe enough to warrant men in searching there for witnesses to
the highest Christian truths. The inspiration of Nature, it is thought,
extends to the humbler doctrines alone. And yet the reverent inquirer
who guides his steps in the right direction may find even now in the
still dim twilight of the scientific world much that will illuminate and
intensify his sublimest faith. Here, at least, comes, and comes
unbidden, the opportunity of testing the most vital point of the
Christian system. Hitherto the Christian philosopher has remained
content with the scientific evidence against Annihilation. Or, with
Butler, he has reasoned from the Metamorphoses of Insects to a future
life. Or again, with the authors of "The Unseen Universe," the apologist
has constructed elaborate, and certainly impressive, arguments upon the
Law of Continuity. But now we may draw nearer. For the first time
Science touches Christianity _positively_ on the doctrine of
Immortality. It confronts us with an actual definition of an Eternal
Life, based on a full and rigidly accurate examination of the necessary
conditions. Science does not pretend that it can fulfil these
conditions. Its votaries make no claim to possess the Eternal Life. It
simply postulates the requisite conditions without concerning itself
whether any organism should ever appear, or does now exist, which might
fulfil them. The claim of religion, on the other hand, is that there are
organisms which possess Eternal Life. And the problem for us to solve is
this: Do those who profess to possess Eternal Life fulfil the conditions
required by Science, or are they different conditions? In a word, Is the
Christian conception of Eternal Life scientific?
It may be unnecessary to notice at the outset that the definition of
Eternal Life drawn up by Science was framed without reference to
religion. It must indeed have been the last thought with the thinker to
whom we chiefly owe it, that in unfolding the conception of a Life in
its very nature necessarily eternal, he was contributing to Theology.
Mr. Herbert Spencer--for it is to him we owe it--would be the first to
admit the impartiality of his definition; and from the connection in
which it occurs in his writings, it is obvious that religion was not
even present to his mind. He is analyzing with minute care the relations
between Environment and Life. He unfolds the principle according to
which Life is high or low, long or short. He shows why organisms live
and why they die. And finally he defines a condition of things in which
an organism would never die--
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Laperouse
by
Ernest Scott
DEDICATION
To my friend T.B.E.
CONTENTS
I. FAMILY, YOUTH and INFLUENCES.
II. THE FRENCH NAVAL OFFICER.
III. THE LOVE STORY OF LAPEROUSE.
IV. THE VOYAGE OF EXPLORATION.
V. THE EARLY PART OF THE VOYAGE.
VI. LAPEROUSE IN THE PACIFIC.
VII. AT BOTANY BAY.
VIII. THE MYSTERY, AND THE SECRET OF THE SEA.
IX. CAPTAIN DILLON'S DISCOVERY.
X. THE FAME OF LAPEROUSE.
FOREWORD
All Sydney people, and most of those who have visited the city, have
seen the tall monument to Laperouse overlooking Botany Bay. Many have
perhaps read a little about him, and know the story of his surprising
appearance in this harbour six days after the arrival of Governor
Phillip with the First Fleet. One can hardy look at the obelisk, and at
the tomb of Pere Receveur near by, without picturing the departure of
the French ships after bidding farewell to the English officers and
colonists. Sitting at the edge of the cliff, one can follow Laperouse
out to sea, with the eye of imagination, until sails, poops and hulls
diminish to the view and disappear below the hazy-blue horizon. We may
be sure that some of Governor Phillip's people watched the sailing, and
the lessening, and the melting away of the vessels, from just about the
same place, one hundred and twenty four years ago. What they saw, and
what we can imagine, was really the end of a romantic career, and the
beginning of a mystery of the sea which even yet has not lost its
fascination.
The story of that life is surely worth telling, and, we trust, worth
reading; for it is that of a good, brave and high-minded man, a great
sailor, and a true gentleman. The author has put into these few pages
what he has gleaned from many volumes, some of them stout, heavy and
dingy tomes, though delightful enough to "those who like that
sort of thing." He hopes that the book may for many readers touch with
new meaning those old weatherworn stones at Botany Bay, and make the
personality of Laperouse live again for such as nourish an interest in
Australian history.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
(Not included in etext)
Portrait of Laperouse, with Autograph
Laperouse's Coat of Arms
The Laperouse Family
Comte de Fleurieu
Louis XVI Giving Instructions to Laperouse
Australia as known at the time of Laperouse's visit
The BOUSSOLE and ASTROLABE
Chart of Laperouse's Voyage in the Pacific
Massacre of Captain de Langle's Party
Tomb of Pere Receveur
Monument to Laperouse at Botany Bay
Admiral Dentrecasteaux
Map of Vanikoro Island
Relics of Laperouse
Life of Laperouse
Chapter I.
FAMILY, YOUTH and INFLUENCES
Jean-Francois Galaup, Comte De Laperouse, was born at Albi, on August
23, 1741. His birthplace is the chief town in the Department of Tarn,
lying at the centre of the fruitful province of Languedoc, in the south
of France. It boasts a fine old Gothic cathedral, enriched with much
noble carving and brilliant fresco painting; and its history gives it
some importance in the lurid and exciting annals of France. From its
name was derived that of a religious sect, the Albigeois, who professed
doctrines condemned as heretical and endured severe persecution during
the thirteenth century.
But among all the many thousands of men who have been born, and have
lived, and died in the
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THE UNDERGROUND CITY
OR
THE BLACK INDIES
(Sometimes Called The Child of the Cavern)
Verne, Jules. _Works of Jules Verne_. Ed. Charles F. Horne. Vol. 9. New
York: F. Tyler Daniels Company, 1911. 277-394.
THE UNDERGROUND CITY
CHAPTER I. CONTRADICTORY LETTERS
To Mr. F. R. Starr, Engineer, 30 Canongate, Edinburgh.
IF Mr. James Starr will come to-morrow to the Aberfoyle coal-mines,
Dochart pit, Yarrow shaft, a communication of an interesting nature will
be made to him.
"Mr. James Starr will be awaited for, the whole day, at the Callander
station, by Harry Ford, son of the old overman Simon Ford."
"He is requested to keep this invitation secret."
Such was the letter which James Starr received by the first post, on the
3rd December, 18--, the letter bearing the Aberfoyle postmark, county of
Stirling, Scotland.
The engineer's curiosity was excited to the highest pitch. It never
occurred to him to doubt whether this letter might not be a hoax. For
many years he had known Simon Ford, one of the former foremen of the
Aberfoyle mines, of which he, James Starr, had for twenty years, been
the manager, or, as he would be termed in English coal-mines, the
viewer. James Starr was a strongly-constituted man, on whom his
fifty-five years weighed no more heavily than if they had been forty.
He belonged to an old Edinburgh family, and was one of its most
distinguished members. His labors did credit to the body of engineers
who are gradually devouring the carboniferous subsoil of the United
Kingdom, as much at Cardiff and Newcastle, as in the southern counties
of Scotland. However, it was more particularly in the depths of the
mysterious mines of Aberfoyle, which border on the Alloa mines and
occupy part of the county of Stirling, that the name of Starr had
acquired the greatest renown. There, the greater part of his existence
had been passed. Besides this, James Starr belonged to the Scottish
Antiquarian Society, of which he had been made president. He was also
included amongst the most active members of the Royal Institution; and
the Edinburgh Review frequently published clever articles signed by him.
He was in fact one of those practical men to whom is due the prosperity
of England. He held a high rank in the old capital of Scotland, which
not only from a physical but also from a moral point of view, well
deserves the name of the Northern Athens.
We know that the English have given to their vast extent of coal-mines
a very significant name. They very justly call them the "Black Indies,"
and these Indies have contributed perhaps even more than the Eastern
Indies to swell the surprising wealth of the United Kingdom.
At this period, the limit of time assigned by professional men for
the exhaustion of coal-mines was far distant and there was no dread
of scarcity. There were still extensive mines to be worked in the two
Americas. The manufactories, appropriated to so many different uses,
locomotives, steamers, gas works, &c., were not likely to fail for want
of the mineral fuel; but the consumption had so increased during the
last few years, that certain beds had been exhausted even to their
smallest veins. Now deserted, these mines perforated the ground with
their useless shafts and forsaken galleries. This was exactly the case
with the pits of Aberfoyle.
Ten years before, the last butty had raised the last ton of coal from
this colliery. The underground working stock, traction engines, trucks
which run on rails along the galleries, subterranean tramways, frames to
support the shaft, pipes--in short, all that constituted the machinery
of a mine had been brought up from its depths. The exhausted mine was
like the body of a huge fantastically-shaped mastodon, from which all
the organs of life have been taken, and only the skeleton remains.
Nothing was left but long wooden ladders, down the Yarrow shaft--the
only one which now gave access to the lower galleries of the Dochart
pit. Above ground, the sheds, formerly sheltering the outside works,
still marked the spot where the shaft of that pit had been sunk,
it being now abandoned, as were the other pits, of which the whole
constituted the mines of Aberfoyle.
It was a sad day, when for the last time the workmen quitted the mine,
in which they had lived for so many years. The engineer, James Starr,
had collected the hundreds of workmen which composed the active and
courageous population of the mine. Overmen, brakemen, putters, wastemen,
barrowmen, masons, smiths, carpenters, outside and inside laborers,
women, children, and old men, all were collected in the great yard of
the Dochart pit, formerly heaped with coal from the mine.
Many of these families had existed for generations in the mine of
old Aberfoyle; they were now driven to seek the means of subsistence
elsewhere, and they waited sadly to bid farewell to the engineer.
James Starr stood upright, at the door of the vast shed in which he
had for so many years superintended the powerful machines of the shaft.
Simon Ford, the foreman of the Dochart pit, then fifty-five years of
age, and other managers and overseers, surrounded him. James Starr took
off his hat. The miners, cap in hand, kept a profound silence. This
farewell scene was of a touching character, not wanting in grandeur.
"My friends," said the engineer, "the time has come for us to separate.
The Aberfoyle mines, which for so many years have united us in a
common work, are now exhausted. All our researches have not led to
the discovery of a new vein, and the last block of coal has just been
extracted from the Dochart pit." And in confirmation of his words, James
Starr pointed to a lump of coal which had been kept at the bottom of a
basket.
"This piece of coal, my friends," resumed James Starr, "is like the last
drop of blood which has flowed through the veins of the mine! We shall
keep it, as the first fragment of coal is kept, which was extracted
a hundred and fifty years ago from the bearings of Aberfoyle. Between
these two pieces, how many generations of workmen have succeeded each
other in our pits! Now, it is over! The last words which your engineer
will address to you are a farewell. You have lived in this mine, which
your hands have emptied. The work has been hard, but not without profit
for you. Our great family must disperse, and it is not probable that the
future will ever again unite the scattered members. But do not forget
that we have lived together for a long time, and that it will be the
duty of the miners of Aberfoyle to help each other. Your old masters
will not forget you either. When men have worked together, they must
never be stranger to each other again. We shall keep our eye on you, and
wherever you go, our recommendations shall follow you. Farewell then, my
friends, and may Heaven be with you!"
So saying, James Starr wrung the horny hand of the oldest miner, whose
eyes were dim with tears. Then the overmen of the different pits came
forward to shake hands with him, whilst the miners waved their caps,
shouting, "Farewell, James Starr, our master and our friend!"
This farewell would leave a lasting remembrance in all these honest
hearts. Slowly and sadly the population quitted the yard. The black soil
of the roads leading to the Dochart pit resounded for the last time to
the tread of miners' feet, and silence succeeded to the bustling life
which had till then filled the Aberfoyle mines.
One man alone remained by James Starr. This was the overman, Simon Ford.
Near him stood a boy, about fifteen years of age, who for some years
already had been employed down below.
James Starr and Simon Ford knew and esteemed each other well. "Good-by,
Simon," said the engineer.
"Good-by, Mr. Starr," replied the overman, "let me add, till we meet
again!"
"Yes, till we meet again. Ford!" answered James Starr. "You know that I
shall be always glad to see you, and talk over old times."
"I know that, Mr. Starr."
"My house in Edinburgh is always open to you."
"It's a long way off, is Edinburgh!" answered the man shaking his head.
"Ay, a long way from the Dochart pit."
"A long way, Simon? Where do you mean to live?"
"Even here, Mr. Starr! We're not going to leave the mine, our good old
nurse, just because her milk is dried up! My wife, my boy, and myself,
we mean to remain faithful to her!"
"Good-by then, Simon," replied the engineer, whose voice, in spite of
himself, betrayed some emotion.
"No, I tell you, it's TILL WE MEET AGAIN, Mr. Starr, and not Just
'good-by,'" returned the foreman. "Mark my words, Aberfoyle will see you
again!"
The engineer did not try to dispel the man's illusion. He patted Harry's
head, again wrung the father's hand, and left the mine.
All this had taken place ten years ago; but, notwithstanding the wish
which the overman had expressed to see him again, during that time Starr
had heard nothing of him. It was after ten years of separation that he
got this letter from Simon Ford, requesting him to take without delay
the road to the old Aberfoyle colliery.
A communication of an interesting nature, what could it be? Dochart pit.
Yarrow shaft! What recollections of the past these names brought back
to him! Yes, that was a fine time, that of work, of struggle,--the best
part of the engineer's life. Starr re-read his letter. He pondered over
it in all its bearings. He much regretted that just a line more had not
been added by Ford. He wished he had not been quite so laconic.
Was it possible that the old foreman had discovered some new vein?
No! Starr remembered with what minute care the mines had been explored
before the definite cessation of the works. He had himself proceeded
to the lowest soundings without finding the least trace in the soil,
burrowed in every direction. They had even attempted to find coal under
strata which are usually below it, such as the Devonian red sandstone,
but without result. James Starr had therefore abandoned the mine with
the absolute conviction that it did not contain another bit of coal.
"No," he repeated, "no! How is it possible that anything which could
have escaped my researches, should be revealed to those of Simon Ford.
However, the old overman must well know that such a discovery would be
the one thing in the world to interest me, and this invitation, which I
must keep secret, to repair to the Dochart pit!" James Starr always came
back to that.
On the other hand, the engineer knew Ford to be a clever miner,
peculiarly endowed with the instinct of his trade. He had not seen him
since the time when the Aberfoyle colliery was abandoned, and did not
know either what he was doing or where he was living, with his wife and
his son. All that he now knew was, that a rendezvous had been appointed
him at the Yarrow shaft, and that Harry, Simon Ford's son, was to wait
for him during the whole of the next day at the Callander
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The Three Commanders, by W.H.G. Kingston.
________________________________________________________________________
This is the third in the tetralogy commencing "The Three Midshipmen" and
ending with "The Three Admirals," so the three principal characters will
have been familiar to Kingston's youthful readers. As with the other
books it is a very good introduction to Naval life in the middle of the
nineteenth century, but there are other things we can learn from this
book, as well.
The action soon after the start moves to East Africa, where we see how
the anti-slave trade was pursued. The British were against slavery, but
the Portuguese, the Americans, the Arabs, and some of the East African
states were getting on with it whenever the British backs were turned.
Then we move to the Crimea, where we get a very good view of the naval
participation in that war. If you want to know more about the Crimea,
you should definitely read this book.
Finally we move to the Pacific, to Sydney and to Hawaii. Here again it
is interesting, particularly with regard to the volcanoes of the Hawaii
group of islands.
________________________________________________________________________
THE THREE COMMANDERS, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.
CHAPTER ONE.
MURRAY'S HIGHLAND HOME--A VISIT FROM ADMIRAL TRITON--ADAIR AND HIS
NEPHEW APPEAR--MURRAY APPOINTED TO THE OPAL, ADAIR FIRST LIEUTENANT--
PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE--ADMIRAL TRITON AND MRS DEBORAH INVITE MRS
MURRAY TO STAY AT SOUTHSEA--THE OPAL AND HER CREW--A POETICAL
LIEUTENANT--PARTING BETWEEN MISS ROGERS AND ADAIR--THE OPAL SAILS FOR
THE EAST COAST OF AFRICA.
Alick Murray had not over-praised the Highland home of which he had so
often spoken when far away across the wide ocean. The house,
substantially built in a style suited to that clime, stood some way up
the side of a hill which rose abruptly from the waters of Loch Etive, on
the north side of which it was situated. To the west the hills were
comparatively low, the shores alternately widening and contracting, and
projecting in numerous promontories. The higher grounds were clothed
with heath and wood, while level spaces below were diversified by
cultivated fields. To the east of the house, up the loch, the scenery
assumed a character much more striking and grand. Far as the eye could
reach appeared a succession of lofty and barren mountains, rising sheer
out of the water, on the calm surface of which their fantastic forms
were reflected as in a mirror. Across the loch the lofty summit of Ben
Cruachan appeared towering to the sky. The scenery immediately
surrounding Murray's domain of Bercaldine was of extreme beauty. At
some little distance the hill, rising abruptly, was covered with oak,
ash, birch, and alder, producing a rich tone of colouring; the rowan and
hawthorn trees mingling their snowy blossoms or coral berries with the
foliage of the more gigantic natives of the forest, while the dark
purple heath, in tufted wreaths, and numerous wild-flowers, were
interspersed amid the rich sward and underwood along the shore beneath.
Behind the house were shrubberies and a well-cultivated kitchen-garden,
sheltered on either side by a thick belt of pines; while in front a
lawn, also protected by shrubberies from the keen winds which blew down
from the mountain heights, sloped towards the loch, with a gravel walk
leading to the landing-place. Murray had added a broad verandah to the
front of the house, to remind himself and Stella of Don Antonio's
residence in Trinidad, where they had first met. Indeed, in some of its
features, the scenery recalled to their memories the views they had
enjoyed in that lovely island; and though they confessed that Trinidad
carried off the palm of beauty, yet they both loved far better their own
Highland home.
It was a lovely summer day, and Stella was sitting in the verandah with
a small stranger, whom her faithful black maiden, Polly, had just placed
in her lap. She was fully employed in bestowing on him those marks of
affection which a loving mother delights in affording to her first-born.
Alick stood by her side, watching her and their child with looks of
fond pride. He had just come in from the garden, which it was one of
his chief occupations to tend, and had taken off his gardening gloves,
that he might pat his child's cheek and tickle its chin to make it coo
and smile. He might have been excused if he was proud of his boy, for
he was a noble little fellow,--a "braw chiel," as he was pronounced to
be by his grand-aunt, Mistress Tibbie Mactavish, who had presided at his
birth,--and likely to do no discredit to the name of Murray.
"The cutter ought to have been back by this time," said Alick at length,
looking at his watch; "Archie has had a fair tide from Oban, and a
leading wind up the loch. I hope that he has not managed to run the
_Stella_ ashore. Ben Snatchblock knows the coast, and he himself should
be pretty well acquainted with it."
"Perhaps Mr Adair did not arrive at the time expected, and Archie
would, of course, wait for him," observed Stella.
"That may be the case," said Alick, taking the telescope from a bracket
on the wall, and looking through it down the loch. "There is no sail in
sight like her, but I see a four-oared boat, which has just passed Bunaw
Ferry, pulling up the loch. Can Adair by any means have missed the
cutter, and be making his way alone to us?"
"Probably she contains a party of tourists on an excursion," said
Stella.
"She is, at all events, steering for Bercaldine," observed Murray; "if
she does not bring Paddy Adair, you will have the opportunity of
exhibiting the small Alick to some other visitor. I will go down to the
pier to receive him, whoever he is, with due honour." Saying this,
Murray, having bestowed a kiss on his wife's brow, and given another
tickle to his baby's chin, which produced an additional coo of delight,
hurried down to the landing-place, towards which the boat was rapidly
approaching. He had his telescope in his hand. He stopped on the way
to take another look through it.
"It is not Terence, but--who do you think?--our old friend, Admiral
Triton!" he shouted out, as he looked back to his wife; and then hurried
on to the landing-place, that he might be there before the admiral could
step ashore. In a few minutes he was receiving the old man's hearty
grasp of the hand, as he helped him out of the boat.
"I had long promised to pay a visit to some friends in the Highlands,
and I determined to make a trip a few miles farther and take you by
surprise, for I knew that I should be welcome at whatever time I might
arrive," said the admiral.
"Indeed you are, my dear sir," answered Murray; "most sincerely I say
it. We are flattered by your visit."
"Give me your arm, my boy, for I don't walk up hill as easily as I used
to do a few years back," said the admiral, leaning somewhat heavily on
the young commander as he stumped along with his timber toe. "Stay! by
the bye, I must dismiss my crew," he exclaimed, stopping short.
"Let them come up to the house first, admiral," said Murray; "they would
consider otherwise that we were forgetful of Highland hospitality at
Bercaldine. You will find your way up to the kitchen, my lads, by
yonder path," he added, turning round to the boatmen. "The cook will
have a snack for you before you pull back to Oban."
The men touched their bonnets, and gratefully grinned their assent to
the laird's proposal, as they tumbled out of the boat; while Murray
conducted Admiral Triton by the centre path, which led through the
grounds to the house.
Mrs Murray, having deposited the wee Alick in the arms of Polly, stood
ready to receive them.
"I am delighted to see you looking so bright and blooming, my dear Mrs
Murray!" exclaimed the old admiral, shaking her warmly by the hand; "it
shows that the Highland air agrees with you, notwithstanding your long
sojourn in the West Indies."
"Except in being more bracing, the climate differs but little from that
to which I was accustomed in the north of Ireland till I grew up; and I
was scarcely long enough in the West Indies to become acclimatised,"
answered Stella, and a shade passed over her countenance as she
recollected the trying scenes she had gone through during the time to
which the admiral referred.
He observed it, and changed the subject. "And so you are expecting to
see our old shipmate, Terence Adair?" he remarked, as he sat himself
down in a chair which Murray placed for him. "I shall be heartily glad
to shake him by the hand again, and to talk over old times. I haven't
forgot his making me carry his portmanteau for him, the rogue!" and the
admiral chuckled and laughed, and told Stella the story while he rubbed
his hands. "I made him pay, though. He thought he was going to do me
out of that, but I was too sharp for him. Ha! ha! ha!" and he laughed
till 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)
[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic
text is surrounded by _underscores_.]
Our Little Swiss Cousin
The Little Cousin Series
[Illustration]
Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates
in tint. Cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover,
per volume, 60 cents.
[Illustration]
LIST OF TITLES
BY MARY HAZELTON WADE (unless otherwise indicated)
=Our Little African Cousin=
=Our Little Armenian Cousin=
=Our Little Brown Cousin=
=Our Little Canadian Cousin=
By Elizabeth R. Macdonald
=Our Little Chinese Cousin=
By Isaac Taylor Headland
=Our Little Cuban Cousin=
=Our Little Dutch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little English Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Eskimo Cousin=
=Our Little French Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little German Cousin=
=Our Little Hawaiian Cousin=
=Our Little Indian Cousin=
=Our Little Irish Cousin=
=Our Little Italian Cousin=
=Our Little Japanese Cousin=
=Our Little Jewish Cousin=
=Our Little Korean Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Mexican Cousin=
By Edward C. Butler
=Our Little Norwegian Cousin=
=Our Little Panama Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Philippine Cousin=
=Our Little Porto Rican Cousin=
=Our Little Russian Cousin=
=Our Little Scotch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Siamese Cousin=
=Our Little Spanish Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Swedish Cousin=
By Claire M. Coburn
=Our Little Swiss Cousin=
=Our Little Turkish Cousin=
[Illustration]
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
New England Building, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: CARL.]
Our Little Swiss
Cousin
By
Mary Hazelton Wade
_Illustrated by_
L. J. Bridgman
[Illustration]
Boston
L. C. Page & Company
_MDCCCCIII_
_Copyright, 1903_
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
Published, July, 1903
_Fourth Impression, December, 1906_
Colonial Press
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
Preface
IN the very heart of Europe lies a small country nestling among the
mountains. It is unlike any other in the world. Its people speak
four different languages; they believe in different religions; the
government is not alike in different parts; yet the Swiss states are
bound together by a bond stronger than unity of language or creed can
possibly make.
Our brave Swiss cousins believe in liberty for all and brotherly love.
These make the most powerful of ties.
In their mountains and valleys they have fought against the enemies who
would have destroyed them, and the tyrants who would have made them
slaves. They have driven out their foes again and again, for their
cause was noble and unselfish, and to-day the republic formed by them
can teach other countries many wise and worthy lessons.
How the stories of William Tell and Arnold von Winkelried stir
our hearts whenever we hear them repeated! These were only two of
many heroes who have made the country famous for its bravery and
unselfishness.
Surely we shall be glad to turn our minds for a while to its fertile
valleys, beautiful lakes, and the noble mountains among which the good
monks live with their trusty
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THE DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS M.A. F.R.S.
CLERK OF THE ACTS AND SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY
TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SHORTHAND MANUSCRIPT IN THE PEPYSIAN LIBRARY
MAGDALENE COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE BY THE REV. MYNORS BRIGHT M.A. LATE FELLOW
AND PRESIDENT OF THE COLLEGE
(Unabridged)
WITH LORD BRAYBROOKE'S NOTES
EDITED WITH ADDITIONS BY
HENRY B. WHEATLEY F.S.A.
DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS.
JUNE & JULY
1668
June 1st. Up and with Sir J. Minnes to Westminster, and in the Hall there
I met with Harris and Rolt, and carried them to the Rhenish wine-house,
where I have not been in a morning--nor any tavern, I think, these seven
years and more. Here I did get the words of a song of Harris that I
wanted. Here also Mr. Young and Whistler by chance met us, and drank with
us. Thence home, and to prepare business against the afternoon, and did
walk an hour in the garden with Sir W. Warren, who do tell me of the great
difficulty he is under in the business of his accounts with the
Commissioners of Parliament, and I fear some inconveniences and troubles
may be occasioned thereby to me. So to dinner, and then with Sir J.
Minnes to White Hall, and there attended the Lords of the Treasury and
also a committee of Council with the Duke of York about the charge of this
year's fleete, and thence I to Westminster and to Mrs. Martin's, and did
hazer what je would con her, and did once toker la thigh de su landlady,
and thence all alone to Fox Hall, and walked and saw young Newport, and
two more rogues of the town, seize on two ladies, who walked with them an
hour with their masks on; perhaps civil ladies; and there I left them, and
so home, and thence to Mr. Mills's, where I never was before, and here
find, whom I indeed saw go in, and that did make me go thither, Mrs.
Hallworthy and Mrs. Andrews, and here supped, and, extraordinary merry
till one in the morning, Mr. Andrews coming to us: and mightily pleased
with this night's company and mirth I home to bed. Mrs. Turner, too, was
with us.
2nd. Up, and to the office, where all the morning. At noon home to
dinner, and there dined with me, besides my own people, W. Batelier and
Mercer, and we very merry. After dinner, they gone, only Mercer and I to
sing a while, and then parted, and I out and took a coach, and called
Mercer at their back-door, and she brought with her Mrs. Knightly, a
little pretty sober girl, and I carried them to Old Ford, a town by Bow,
where I never was before, and there walked in the fields very pleasant,
and sang: and so back again, and stopped and drank at the Gun, at Mile
End, and so to the Old Exchange door, and did buy them a pound of
cherries, cost me 2s., and so set them down again; and I to my little
mercer's Finch, that lives now in the Minories, where I have left my
cloak, and did here baiser su moher, a belle femme, and there took my
cloak which I had left there, and so by water, it being now about nine
o'clock, down to Deptford, where I have not been many a day, and there it
being dark I did by agreement aller a la house de Bagwell, and there after
a little playing and baisando we did go up in the dark a su camera. . .
and to my boat again, and against the tide home. Got there by twelve
o'clock, taking into my boat, for company, a man that desired a passage--a
certain western bargeman, with whom I had good sport, talking of the old
woman of Woolwich, and telling him the whole story.
3rd. Up, and to the office, where busy till g o'clock, and then to White
Hall, to the Council-chamber, where I did present the Duke of York with an
account of the charge of the present fleete, to his satisfaction; and this
being done, did ask his leave for my going out of town five or six days,
which he did give me, saying, that my diligence in the King's business was
such, that I ought not to be denied when my own business called me any
whither. Thence with Sir D. Gawden to Westminster, where I did take a
turn or two
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THE FORMER PHILIPPINES THRU FOREIGN EYES
Edited by Austin Craig
Preface
Among the many wrongs done the Filipinos by Spaniards, to be charged
against their undeniably large debt to Spain, one of the greatest,
if not the most frequently mentioned, was taking from them their
good name.
Spanish writers have never been noted for modesty or historical
accuracy. Back in 1589 the printer of the English translation of Padre
Juan Gonzalez de Mendoza's "History of the Great and Mighty Kingdom of
China" felt it necessary to prefix this warning: * * * the Spaniards
(following their ambitious affections) do usually in all their writings
extoll their own actions, even to the setting forth of many untruthes
and incredible things, as in their descriptions of the conquistes of
the east and west Indies, etc., doth more at large appeare.
Of early Spanish historians Doctor Antonio de Morga seems the single
exception, and perhaps even some of his credit comes by contrast,
but in later years the rule apparently has proved invariable. As
the conditions in the successive periods of Spanish influence were
recognized to be indicative of little progress, if not actually
retrogressive, the practice grew up of correspondingly lowering the
current estimates of the capacity of the Filipinos of the conquest, so
that always an apparent advance appeared. This in the closing period,
in order to fabricate a sufficient showing for over three centuries
of pretended progress, led to the practical denial of human attributes
to the Filipinos found here by Legaspi.
Against this denial to his countrymen of virtues as well as
rights, Doctor Rizal opposed two briefs whose English titles
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at the University of Michigan's Making of America
collection.)
ABRIDGMENT OF THE DEBATES OF CONGRESS,
FROM 1789 TO 1856.
FROM GALES AND SEATON'S ANNALS OF CONGRESS; FROM THEIR REGISTER OF
DEBATES; AND FROM THE OFFICIAL REPORTED DEBATES, BY JOHN C. RIVES.
BY
THE AUTHOR OF THE THIRTY YEARS' VIEW.
VOL II.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
448 AND 445 BROADWAY.
LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN.
1861.
ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court
for the Southern District of New York.
FOURTH CONGRESS.--SECOND SESSION.
BEGUN AT THE CITY OF PHILADELPHIA, DECEMBER 5, 1796.
PROCEEDINGS IN THE SENATE.
MONDAY, December 5, 1796.
PRESENT:
JOHN ADAMS, Vice President of the United States, and President of the
Senate.
JOHN LANGDON and SAMUEL LIVERMORE, from New Hampshire.
BENJAMIN GOODHUE, from Massachusetts.
WILLIAM BRADFORD, from Rhode Island.
JAMES HILLHOUSE and URIAH TRACY, from Connecticut.
ELIJAH PAINE, and ISAAC TICHENOR, from Vermont.
JOHN RUTHERFORD and RICHARD STOCKTON, from New Jersey.
WILLIAM BINGHAM, from Pennsylvania.
HENRY LATIMER, from Delaware.
HUMPHREY MARSHALL, from Kentucky.
WILLIAM COCKE, from Tennessee.
JACOB READ, from South Carolina.
JAMES GUNN, from Georgia.
The number of Senators present not being sufficient to constitute a
quorum, they adjourned to 11 o'clock to-morrow morning.
TUESDAY, December 6.
ALEXANDER MARTIN, from the State of North Carolina, and WILLIAM BLOUNT,
from the State of Tennessee, severally attended.
The VICE PRESIDENT communicated a letter from PIERCE BUTLER, notifying
the resignation of his seat in the Senate, which was read.
The credentials of the after-named Senators were severally read:--Of
BENJAMIN GOODHUE, appointed a Senator by the State of Massachusetts, in
place of GEORGE CABOT, resigned; of ISAAC TICHENOR, appointed a Senator
by the State of Vermont, in place of MOSES ROBINSON, resigned; of JAMES
HILLHOUSE, appointed a Senator by the State of Connecticut in place of
OLIVER ELLSWORTH, whose seat is become vacant; of URIAH TRACY, appointed
a Senator by the State of Connecticut, in place of JONATHAN TRUMBULL,
resigned; of JOHN LAURANCE, appointed a Senator by the State of New
York, in place of RUFUS KING, whose seat is become vacant; of RICHARD
STOCKTON, appointed a Senator by the State of New Jersey, in place of
FREDERICK FRELINGHUYSEN, resigned; also, of WILLIAM BLOUNT and WILLIAM
COCKE, appointed Senators by the State of Tennessee;--and, the oath
required by law being respectively administered to them, they took their
seats in the Senate.
A message from the House of Representatives informed the Senate that a
quorum of the House of Representatives is assembled, and ready to
proceed to business.
_Ordered_, That the Secretary wait on the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED
STATES, and acquaint him that a quorum of the Senate is assembled.
_Ordered_, That the Secretary acquaint the House of Representatives that
a quorum of the Senate is assembled, and ready to proceed to business.
A message from the House of Representatives informed the Senate that
they have appointed a joint committee, on their part, together with such
committee as the Senate may appoint, to wait on the PRESIDENT OF THE
UNITED STATES, and notify him that a quorum of the two Houses is
assembled, and ready to receive any communications that he may be
pleased to make to them.
_Resolved_, That the Senate concur in the above resolution, and that
Messrs. READ and LIVERMORE be the joint committee on the part of the
Senate.
_Ordered_, That the Secretary acquaint the House of Representatives
therewith.
Mr. READ reported, from the joint committee appointed for that purpose,
that they had waited on the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, and had
notified him that a quorum of the two Houses of Congress are assembled,
and that the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES acquainted the committee
that he would meet the two Houses in the Representatives' Chamber, at
twelve o'clock to-morrow.
WEDNESDAY, December 7.
JOHN HENRY, from the
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Transcriber's Note
The punctuation and spelling from the original text have been faithfully
preserved. Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
The Economist:
OR
THE POLITICAL, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, AND FREE-TRADE JOURNAL.
"If we make ourselves too little for the sphere of our duty; if, on
the contrary, we do not stretch and expand our minds to the compass
of their object; be well assured that everything about us will
dwindle by degrees, until at length our concerns are shrunk to the
dimensions of our minds. _It is not a predilection to mean, sordid,
home-bred cares that will avert the consequences of a false
estimation of our interest, or prevent the shameful dilapidation
into which a great empire must fall by mean reparation upon mighty
ruins._"--BURKE.
No. 3. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1843. PRICE 6_d._
CONTENTS.
Our Brazilian Trade and the Anti-Slavery Party 33
The Fallacy of Protection 34
Agriculture (No. 2.) 35
Court and Aristocracy 36
Music and Musicales 36
The Metropolis 37
The Provinces 37
Ireland 37
Scotland 38
Wales 38
Foreign:
France 38
Spain 38
Austria and Italy 38
Turkey 38
Egypt 39
United States 39
Canada 39
Colonies and Emigration:
Emigration during the last Seventeen Years 39
New South Wales 39
Australia 39
Cape of Good Hope 39
New Zealand 39
Political 39
Correspondence and Answers to Inquiries 40
Postscript 41
Free Trade Movements:
Messrs Cobden and Bright at Oxford 42
Public Dinner to R. Walker, Esq. 42
Dr Bowring's Visit to his Constituents 42
Anti-Corn-law Meeting at Hampstead 43
Mr Ewart and his Constituents 43
Miscellanies of Trade 43
Police 43
Accidents, Offences, and Occurrences 43
Sporting Intelligence 43
Agricultural Varieties:
The best Home Markets 44
Curious Agricultural Experiment 44
Cultivation of Waste Lands 44
Our Library Table 44
Miscellanea 45
Commerce and Commercial Markets 46
Prices Current 46
Corn Markets 46
Smithfield Markets 46
Borough Hop Market 47
Liverpool Cotton Market 47
The Gazette 47
Births, Marriages, and Deaths 47
Advertisements 47
"If a writer be conscious that to gain a reception for his
favourite doctrine he must combat with certain elements of
opposition, in the taste, or the pride, or the indolence of those
whom he is addressing, this will only serve to make him the more
importunate. _There is a difference between such truths as are
merely of a speculative nature and such as are allied with practice
and moral feeling. With the former all repetition may be often
superfluous; with the latter it may just be by earnest repetition,
that their influence comes to be thoroughly established over the
mind of an inquirer._"--CHALMERS.
OUR BRAZILIAN TRADE AND THE ANTI-SLAVERY PARTY.
Since the publication of our article on the Brazilian Treaty, we have
received several letters from individuals who, agreeing with us entirely
in the free-trade view of the question, nevertheless are at variance
with us as to the commercial policy which we should pursue towards that
country, in order to coerce them into our views regarding slavery. We
are glad to feel called upon to express our views on this subject, to
which we think full justice has not yet been done.
We must, however, in doing so, make a great distinction between the two
classes of persons who are now found to be joined in an alliance against
this application of free-trade principles; two classes who have always
h
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Transcriber's Note
Endnotes have been moved to the end of the scene to which they apply.
The following note preceded the printed endnotes:
"In the Quartos there are no divisions of acts and scenes.
A, B, C = 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Quartos."
Italic text is marked by _underscores_, and bold text by ~swung dashes~.
[Illustration]
_THE TEMPLE DRAMATISTS_
ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM
[Illustration]
The text of this edition is nearly that of the first Quarto, the copy
of which in the Dyce Library at South Kensington has been carefully
collated. I have not noted minute variations. The German editors,
Warnke and Proescholt, give the various readings of the three Quartos
and of later editions.
[Illustration: _Feversham Abbey._]
ARDEN OF
FEVERSHAM
_Edited with a Preface, Notes
and Glossary by_
REV. RONALD BAYNE
M.A.
J. M. DENT AND CO.
ALDINE HOUSE : LONDON
1897
'Considering the various and marvellous gifts displayed for the first
time on our stage by the great poet, the great dramatist, the strong
and subtle searcher of hearts, the just and merciful judge and painter
of human passions, who gave this tragedy to the new-born literature
of our drama... I cannot but finally take heart to say, even in
the absence of all external or traditional testimony, that it seems
to me not pardonable merely or permissible, but simply logical and
reasonable, to set down this poem, a young man's work on the face of
it, as the possible work of no man's youthful hand but Shakespeare's.'
Mr. A. C. SWINBURNE.
PREFACE
~Early Editions.~ On 3rd April, 1592, '_The Tragedie of Arden of
Feversham and Blackwall_'[A] was entered on the Stationers' Registers
to Edward White. In the same year appeared, '_The lamentable and true
Tragedie of M. Arden of Feversham in Kent. Who was most wickedlye
murdered, by the meanes of his disloyall and wanton wyfe, who for the
love she bare to one Mosbie, hyred two desperat ruffins, Blackwill
and Shakbag, to kill him. Wherin is shewed the great mallice and
discimulation of a wicked woman, the unsatiable desire of filthie lust
and the shamefull end of all murderers. Imprinted at London for Edward
White, dwelling at the lyttle North dore of Paules Church at the signe
of the Gun._ 1592.' A second Quarto, with the same title, was printed
in 1599. A third, '_by Eliz. Allde dwelling neere Christs Church_,'
appeared in 1633. The second and third Quartos are founded textually
upon the first, and their variations are of no value. The text of the
first Quarto is unusually good even when prose and verse are mixed
together, although the printer has apparently no scientific knowledge
of the nature of metre.
[Footnote A: A misprint for _Blackwill_.]
~Place of the Play in the Elizabethan Drama.~ _Arden of Faversham_
is the finest extant specimen of a kind of play which has been
classified as Domestic Tragedy. A picturesque or sensational murder in
the sixteenth century was given to the public first in popular ballads
or pamphlets, and afterwards, if sufficiently notable, in the more
serious Chronicle. From the popular pamphlet, or from the Chronicle,
or from both together, it found its way on to the stage. Four of these
'murder-plays' have come down to us, and the titles of many others.
They form a minor section of the Chronicle plays or Histories. They did
not attain any very striking literary development, owing perhaps to the
necessary bondage of the poet to his facts. _Arden of Faversham_ is a
remarkable instance of the possibilities of this class of play, but it
is to be noted that the poet used the narrative of a Chronicler who
wrote twenty-seven years after the date of the murder. _A Warning for
Fair Women_ and Yarington's _Two Tragedies in One_ are both inferior
to _Arden_, though influenced by it. The fourth'murder-play'--_The
Yorkshire Tragedy_--is distinct from the other three in style and
method. Several famous dramatists produced 'domestic' tragedies, but
none have survived. _A Late Murder of the Son upon the Mother_, in
which Ford and Webster collaborated, must have been a notable piece of
work.
~Source of the Play.~ On Sunday, 15th February 1550-1, Thomas
Ardern of Faversham, gentleman, 'was heynously murdered in his own
parlour
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THE WEAVERS
By Gilbert Parker
CONTENTS
BOOK I
I. AS THE SPIRIT MOVED
II. THE GATES OF THE WORLD
III. BANISHED
IV. THE CALL
BOOK II
V. THE WIDER WAY
VI. "HAST THOU NEVER BILLED A MANY"
VII. THE COMPACT
VIII. FOR HIS SOUL'S SAKE AND THE LAND'S SAKE
IX. THE LETTER, THE NIGHT, AND THE WOMAN
X. THE FOUR WHO KNEW
XI. AGAINST THE HOUR OF MIDNIGHT
XII. THE JEHAD AND THE LIONS
XIII. ACHMET THE ROPEMAKER STRIKES
XIV. BEYOND THE PALE
BOOK III
XV. SOOLSBY'S HAND UPON THE CURTAIN
XVI. THE DEBT AND THE ACCOUNTING
XVII. THE WOMAN OF THE CROSS-ROADS
XVIII. TIME, THE IDOL-BREAKER
XIX. SHARPER THAN A SWORD
XX. EACH AFTER HIS OWN ORDER
XXI. "THERE IS NOTHING HIDDEN WHICH SHALL NOT BE REVEALED"
XXII. AS IN A GLASS DARKLY
XXIII. THE TENTS OF CUSHAN
XXIV. THE QUESTIONER
XXV. THE VOICE THROUGH THE DOOR
XXVI. "I OWE YOU NOTHING"
XXVII. THE AWAKENING
BOOK IV
XXVIII. NAHOUM TURNS THE SCREW
XXIX. THE RECOIL
XXX. LACEY MOVES
XXXI. THE STRUGGLE IN THE DESERT
XXXII. FORTY STRIPES SAVE ONE
XXXIII. THE DARK INDENTURE
XXXIV. NAHOUM DROPS THE MASK
BOOK V
XXXV. THE FLIGHT OF THE WOUNDED
XXXVI. "IS IT ALWAYS SO-IN LIFE?"
XXXVII. THE FLYING SHUTTLE
XXXVIII. JASPER KIMBER SPEAKS
XXXIX. FAITH JOURNEYS TO LONDON
BOOK VI
XL. HYLDA SEEKS NAHOUM
XLI. IN THE LAND OF SHINAR
XLII. THE LOOM OF DESTINY
INTRODUCTION
When I turn over the hundreds of pages of this book, I have a feeling
that I am looking upon something for which I have no particular
responsibility, though it has a strange contour of familiarity. It is as
though one looks upon a scene in which one had lived and moved, with the
friendly yet half-distant feeling that it once was one's own possession
but is so no longer. I should think the feeling to be much like that of
the old man whose sons, gone to distant places, have created their
own plantations of life and have themselves become the masters of
possessions. Also I suppose that when I read the story through again
from the first page to the last, I shall recreate the feeling in which
I lived when I wrote it, and it will become a part of my own identity
again. That distance between himself and his work, however, which
immediately begins to grow as soon as a book leaves the author's hands
for those of the public, is a thing which, I suppose, must come to one
who produces a work of the imagination. It is no doubt due to the fact
that every piece of art which has individuality and real likeness to
the scenes and character it is intended to depict is done in a kind of
trance. The author, in effect, self-hypnotises himself, has created
an atmosphere which is separate and apart from that of his daily
surroundings, and by virtue of his imagination becomes absorbed in
that atmosphere. When the book is finished and it goes forth, when the
imagination is relaxed and the concentration of mind is withdrawn, the
atmosphere disappears, and then. One experiences what I feel when I take
up 'The Weavers' and, in a sense, wonder how it was done, such as it is.
The frontispiece of the English edition represents a scene in the House
of Commons, and this brings to my mind a warning which was given me
similar to that on my entering new fields outside the one in which
I first made a reputation in fiction
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POEMS
BY
JOHN CLARE
PUBLISHER’S NOTICE.
The Publisher desires to express his regret that, owing to an oversight,
the proofs of the Introduction were not submitted to the Editor, who is
in no way responsible for the following
ERRATA (corrected in this etext)
Page xvii., line 6, for “been” read “being”; page xxii., first line, for
“Reynerdson” read “Reynardson”; page xxiv., for “tête-á-tête” read
“tête-à-tête”; page xxviii., 2nd line, for “compliments.” read
“compliments,”; page xxx., line 11, for “Dick Suivelles” read “Dick
Swiveller”; page xxxi., in the last line but two, for “to” read “of”;
page xxxix., in line 6 of second paragraph for “widey” read “widely.”
POEMS _by_ JOHN CLARE
SELECTED AND INTRODUCED BY
NORMAN GALE (AUTHOR OF “A
COUNTRY MUSE,” &C. &C.) WITH A
BIBLIOGRAPHY BY C. ERNEST SMITH
RUGBY: GEORGE E. OVER, 1901
Printed at The Rugby Press
CONTENTS
Page
A Spring Morning 138
A World for Love 120
Address to Plenty 3
Approach of Spring, The 76
Autumn 99
Autumn Robin, The 132
Ballad 42
Crab Tree, The 139
Decay 125
December 70
Effusion 39
Gipsy Camp, The 45
Graves of Infants 144
Harvest Morning, The 18
Home Yearnings 145
I am! Yet what I am 157
June 65
Love 123
Love Lives beyond the Tomb 147
Meeting, The 37
Milton, To John 154
My Early Home 149
My Love, thou art a Nosegay Sweet 36
Nightingale’s Nest, The 114
Noon 14
Pastoral Fancies 129
Patty 32
Patty of the Vale 34
Old Poesy 141
On an Infant’s Grave 22
Rural Evening 55
Rustic Fishing 61
Song 44
Song 122
Summer Evening 25
Summer Images 89
Tell-Tale Flowers, The 150
Thoughts in a Churchyard 112
’Tis Spring, my Love, ’Tis Spring 142
To an April Daisy 23
To P * * * * 118
To the Clouds 47
To the Rural Muse 82
Universal Epitaph, The 17
Vanities of Life, The 105
What is Life? 1
Winter 140
Woodman, The 48
BIOGRAPHY AND COMMENT
In tracing the origin of JOHN CLARE it is not necessary to go very far
back, reference to his grandfather and grandmother being a sufficient
acknowledgement of the claims of genealogy. Following the road at
haphazard, trusting himself entirely to the guidance of fortune, and
relying for provender upon his skill in drawing from a violin tunes of
the battle and the dance, about thirty years before Helpstone heard the
first wail of its infant poet, there arrived at the village the vagabond
and truculent Parker. Born under a wandering star, this man had footed
it through many a country of Europe, careless whether daily necessity
required from him an act of bloodshed or the scraping of a harum-scarum
reel designed to set frolic in the toes of man and maid. At the time of
his reaching Helpstone, a Northamptonshire village, destined to come
into prominence because of the lyrics of its chief son, it happened that
the children were without a schoolmaster. In his time the adventurer
had played many parts. Why should he not add to the list? Effrontery,
backed up by an uncertain amount of superficial attainment, won the day,
and this fiddling Odysseus obtained the vacant position. Of his
bo
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LORD ORMONT AND HIS AMINTA, COMPLETE
By George Meredith
CONTENTS.
BOOK 1.
I. LOVE AT A SCHOOL
II. LADY CHARLOTTE
III. THE TUTOR
IV. RECOGNITION
V. IN WHICH THE SHADES OF BROWNY AND MATEY ADVANCE AND RETIRE
BOOK 2.
VI. IN A MOOD OF LANGUOR
VII. EXHIBITS EFFECTS OF A PRATTLER'S DOSES
VIII. MRS. LAWRENCE FINCHLEY
IX. A FLASH OF THE BRUISED WARRIOR
X. A SHORT PASSAGE IN THE GAME PLAYED BY TWO
XI. THE SECRETARY TAKEN AS AN ANTIDOTE
BOOK 3.
XII. MORE OF CUPER'S BOYS
XIII. WAR AT OLMER
XIV. OLD LOVERS NEW FRIENDS
XV. SHOWING A
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CENTRE
for
REFORMATION
and
RENAISSANCE
STUDIES
VICTORIA
UNIVERSITY
TORONTO
FIFTEENTH CENTURY
PROSE AND VERSE
_AN ENGLISH GARNER_
FIFTEENTH CENTURY
PROSE AND VERSE
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
ALFRED W. POLLARD
WESTMINSTER
ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO., LTD.
1903
Edinburgh: Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE.
PREFACE
Of the contents of the present volume about a half now appears in the
ENGLISH GARNER for the first time. Professor Arber (whose ready
acquiescence in my meddlings I wish cordially to acknowledge) had
gathered his good corn wherever he could find it without concerning
himself with the claims of the different centuries; and his specimens of
Lydgate and Hoccleve, Robin Hood Ballads, and trials for Lollardy,
needed as much more added to them to make up a homogeneous volume in the
arrangement now adopted. My additions consist of some Christmas Carols,
a Miracle Play, a Morality, and a number of the interesting prologues
and epilogues of William Caxton; also two extracts on the art of
translation and the need for its exercise, and some depositions in a
theatrical lawsuit. The extracts are of the end of the fourteenth
century, but are germane to our period as heralding the numerous
translations by which it was distinguished; the lawsuit is of the
sixteenth century, but throws light on the transition from municipal to
private enterprise in theatrical matters which had then been for some
time in progress. As these pieces are included for their matter, not for
their style, I hope they will not be considered intrusions in a volume
essentially devoted to the fifteenth century, though the extracts on
translation have led me in my Introduction to an excursus on the
authorship of the Wycliffite translations of the Bible, which can only
be excused on the pleas that Purvey and Trevisa both lived on into the
fifteenth century, and that it was in the early years of that century
that the Bibles were most in circulation.
In editing my texts I have availed myself of the help of the edition of
the play of the Coventry Shearmen and Tailors in Professor Manly's
_Specimens of the Pre-Shaksperean Drama_ (Ginn, 1897), of Dr. Henri
Logeman's _Elckerlijk and Everyman_ (Librairie Clemm, Gand, 1892), of
Professor Ewald Fluegel's transcript of the Balliol College Carols
published in the Festschrift presented to Professor Hildebrand in 1894,
of the Caxton Prefaces printed in Blades's _Life of Caxton_, of Mr.
Henry Plomer's transcript of the pleadings in Rastell _v._ Walton in
vol. iv. of the Transactions of the Bibliographical Society, and of
Forshall and Madden's Wyclif Bible. In Professor Arber's text of the
Robin Hood Ballads I have ventured to make a few corrections by the
light of the excellent edition (based on the work of Professor Child),
printed by Professor Gummere in his _Old English Ballads_ (Ginn, 1894).
That of Hoccleve's _Letter of Cupid_, originally printed from Urry's
text, has been revised with the aid of the collations published by
Professor Skeat in his _Chaucerian and Other Pieces_. Professor Arber's
other texts are reprinted substantially as they stood.
In accordance with the plan adopted throughout the _English Garner_, the
extracts in this volume are given in modern spelling. I should have
preferred myself to re-write them in the educated spelling of their own
period, which would offer no obstacle of any kind to a modern reader.
Not only, however, for the sake of uniformity, but because I am so
convinced that this is the right method of dealing with badly spelt
texts that I wish the experiment to be made for the first time by a
better philologist than myself, I have fallen back on modern spelling.
Whatever its disadvantages, they seem to me as nothing compared with the
absurdity of preserving in texts printed for the second, third, and
fourth time the vagaries of grossly ignorant scribes. In the play of the
Shearmen holiness is spelt _whollenes_, merry _myrre_, voice _woise_,
signification _syngnefocacion_, celestial _seylesteall_, and so on.
These spellings are as demonstrably wrong as those of _consepeet_
(concipiet) and _Gloria in exselsis_, with which the scribe favours us.
It is ungracious to find fault with Professor Manly after appropriating
some of
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A MODERN CHRONICLE
By Winston Churchill
BOOK III
Volume 5.
CHAPTER I
ASCENDI
Honora did not go back to Quicksands. Neither, in this modern chronicle,
shall we.
The sphere we have left, which we know is sordid, sometimes shines in the
retrospect. And there came a time, after the excitement of furnishing the
new house was over, when our heroine, as it were, swung for a time in
space: not for a very long time; that month, perhaps, between autumn and
winter.
We need not be worried about her, though we may pause for a moment or two
to sympathize with her in her loneliness--or rather in the moods it
produced. She even felt, in those days, slightly akin to the Lady of the
Victoria (perfectly respectable), whom all of us fortunate enough
occasionally to go to New York have seen driving on Fifth Avenue with an
expression of wistful haughtiness, and who changes her costumes four
times a day.
Sympathy! We have seen Honora surrounded by friends--what has become of
them? Her husband is president of a trust company, and she has one of the
most desirable houses in New York. What more could be wished for? To jump
at conclusions in this way is by no means to understand a heroine with an
Ideal. She had these things, and--strange as it may seem--suffered.
Her sunny drawing-room, with its gathered silk curtains, was especially
beautiful; whatever the Leffingwells or Allisons may have lacked, it was
not taste. Honora sat in it and wondered: wondered, as she looked back
over the road she had threaded somewhat blindly towards the Ideal,
whether she might not somewhere have taken the wrong turn. The farther
she travelled, the more she seemed to penetrate into a land of
unrealities. The exquisite objects by which she was surrounded, and which
she had collected with such care, had no substance: she would not have
been greatly surprised, at any moment, to see them vanish like a scene in
a theatre, leaning an empty, windy stage behind them. They did not belong
to her, nor she to them.
Past generations of another blood, no doubt, had been justified in
looking upon the hazy landscapes in the great tapestries as their own:
and children's children had knelt, in times gone by, beside the carved
stone mantel. The big, gilded chairs with the silken seats might
appropriately have graced the table of the Hotel de Rambouillet. Would
not the warriors and the wits, the patient ladies of high degree and of
many children, and even the 'precieuses ridicules' themselves, turn over
in their graves if they could so much as imagine the contents of the
single street in modern New York where Honora lived?
One morning, as she sat in that room, possessed by these whimsical though
painful fancies, she picked up a newspaper and glanced through it,
absently, until her eye fell by chance upon a name on the editorial page.
Something like an electric shock ran through her, and the letters of the
name seemed to quiver and become red. Slowly they spelled--Peter Erwin.
"The argument of Mr. Peter Erwin, of St. Louis, before the Supreme Court
of the United States in the now celebrated Snowden case is universally
acknowledged by lawyers to have been masterly, and reminiscent of the
great names of the profession in the past. Mr. Erwin is not dramatic. He
appears to carry all before him by the sheer force of intellect, and by a
kind of Lincolnian ability to expose a fallacy: He is still a young man,
self-made, and studied law under Judge Brice of St. Louis, once President
of the National Bar Association, whose partner he is"....
Honora cut out the editorial and thrust it in her gown, and threw the
newspaper is the fire. She stood for a time after it had burned, watching
the twisted remnants fade from flame colour to rose, and finally blacken.
Then she went slowly up the stairs and put on her hat and coat and veil.
Although a cloudless day, it was windy in the park, and cold, the ruffled
waters an intense blue. She walked fast.
She lunched with Mrs. Holt, who had but just come to town; and the light,
like a speeding guest, was departing from the city when she reached her
own door.
"There is a gentleman in the drawing-room, madam," said
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THE CHILDREN'S PILGRIMAGE
BY
MRS. L. T. MEADE
THE CHILDREN'S PILGRIMAGE
FIRST PART.
"LOOKING FOR THE GUIDE."
"The night is dark, and I am far from home.
Lead Thou me on"
CHAPTER I.
"THREE ON A DOORSTEP."
In a poor part of London, but not in the very poorest part--two
children sat on a certain autumn evening, side by side on a doorstep.
The eldest might have been ten, the youngest eight. The eldest was a
girl, the youngest a boy. Drawn up in front of these children, looking
into their little faces with hungry, loving, pathetic eyes, lay a
mongrel dog.
The three were alone, for the street in which they sat was a
cul-de-sac--leading nowhere; and at this hour, on this Sunday evening,
seemed quite deserted. The boy and girl were no East End waifs; they
were clean; they looked respectable; and the doorstep which gave them a
temporary resting-place belonged to no far-famed Stepney or Poplar. It
stood in a little, old-fashioned, old-world court, back of Bloomsbury.
They were a foreign-looking little pair--not in their dress, which was
truly English in its clumsiness and want of picturesque coloring--but
their faces were foreign. The contour was peculiar, the setting of the
two pairs of eyes--un-Saxon. They sat very close together, a grave
little couple. Presently the girl threw her arm round the boy's neck,
the boy laid his head on her shoulder. In this position those who
watched could have traced motherly lines round this little girl's firm
mouth. She was a creature to defend and protect. The evening fell and
the court grew dark, but the boy had found shelter on her breast, and
the dog, coming close, laid his head on her lap.
After a time the boy raised his eyes, looked at her and spoke:
"Will it be soon, Cecile?"
"I think so, Maurice; I think it must be soon now."
"I'm so cold, Cecile, and it's getting so dark."
"Never mind, darling, stepmother will soon wake now, and then you can
come indoors and sit by the fire."
The boy, with a slight impatient sigh, laid his head once more on her
shoulder, and the grave trio sat on as before.
Presently a step was heard approaching inside the house--it came along
the passage, the door was opened, and a gentleman in a plain black coat
came out. He was a doctor and a young man. His smooth, almost boyish
face looked so kind that it could not but be an index to a charitable
heart.
He stopped before the children, looking at them with interest and pity.
"How is our stepmother, Dr. Austin?" asked Cecile, raising her head and
speaking with alacrity.
"Your stepmother is very ill, my dear--very ill indeed. I stopped with
her to write a letter which she wants me to post. Yes, she is very ill,
but she is awake now; you may go upstairs; you won't disturb her."
"Oh, come, Cecile," said little Maurice, springing to his feet;
"stepmother is awake, and we may get to the fire. I am so bitter cold."
There was not a particle of anything but a kind of selfish longing for
warmth and comfort on his little face. He ran along the passage holding
out his hand to his sister, but Cecile drew back. She came out more
into the light and looked straight up into the tall doctor's face:
"Is my stepmother going to be ill very long, Dr. Austin?"
"No, my dear; I don't expect her illness will last much longer."
"Oh, then, she'll be quite well to-morrow."
"Perhaps--in a sense--who knows!" said the doctor, jerking out his
words and speaking queerly. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but
finally nodding to the child, turned on his heel and walked away.
Cecile, satisfied with this answer, and reading no double meaning in
it, followed her brother and the dog upstairs. She entered a tolerably
comfortable sitting-room, where, on a sofa, lay a woman partly dressed.
The woman's cheeks were crimson, and her large eyes, which were wide
open, were very bright. Little Maurice had already found a seat and a
hunch of bread and butter, and was enjoying both drawn up by a good
fire, while the dog Toby crouched at his feet and snapped at morsels
which he threw him. Cecile, scarcely glancing at the group by the fire,
went straight up to the woman on the sofa:
"Stepmother," she said, taking her hand in hers, "Dr. Austin says
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MAIDS WIVES AND BACHELORS
by
AMELIA E. BARR
Author of "Jan Vedder's Wife," "A Bow of Orange Ribbon," etc.
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1898
Copyright, 1898,
By Dodd, Mead and Company
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Maids and Bachelors 1
The American Girl 13
Dangerous Letter-Writing 23
Flirts and Flirtation 32
On Falling in Love 38
Engaged To Be Married 47
Shall our Daughters have Dowries? 56
The Ring Upon the Finger 67
Flirting Wives 73
Mothers-in-Law 86
Good and Bad Mothers 97
Unequal Marriages 114
Discontented Women 125
Women on Horseback 145
A Good Word for Xanthippe 155
The Favorites of Men 160
Mothers of Great and Good Men 170
Domestic Work for Women 175
Professional Work for Women 187
Little Children 200
On Naming Children 205
The Children's Table 217
Intellectual "Cramming" of Boys 225
The Servant-Girl's Point of View 231
Extravagance 240
Ought we to Wear Mourning? 248
How To Have One's Portrait Taken 254
The Crown of Beauty 272
Waste of Vitality 281
A Little Matter of Money 288
Mission of Household Furniture 293
People Who Have Good Impulses 302
Worried to Death 307
The Grapes We Can't Reach 313
Burdens 319
Maids and Bachelors
Women who have devoted themselves for religious purposes to celibacy
have in all ages and countries of the world received honor, but those
upon whom celibacy has been forced, either through the influence of
untoward circumstances, or as a consequence of some want or folly in
themselves, have been objects of most unmerited contempt and dislike.
Unmerited, because it may be broadly asserted that until the last
generation no woman in secular and social life remained unmarried from
desire or from conviction. She was the victim of some natural
disadvantage, or some unhappy circumstance beyond her control, and
therefore entitled to sympathy, but not to contempt.
Of course, there are many lovely girls who appear to have every
advantage for matrimony, and who yet drift into spinsterhood. The
majority of this class have probably been imprudent and over-stayed
their market. They have dallied with their chances too long. Suddenly
they are aware that their beauty is fading. They notice that the
suitable marriageable men who hung around them in their youth have
gone away, and that their places are filled with mere callow youths.
Then they realize their mistakes, and are sorry they have thought
being "an awfully silly little thing" and "having a good time" the end
of their existence. Heart-aches and disappointments enough follow for
their punishment; for they soon divine that when women cease to have
men for lovers, and are attended by school-boys, they have written
themselves down already as old maids.
Closely allied to these victims of folly or thoughtlessness are the
women who remain unmarried because of their excessive vanity--or
natural cruelty. "My dear, I was cruel thirty years ago, and no one
has asked me since." This confession from an aunt to her niece, though
taken from a play, is true enough to tell the real story of many an
old maid. Their vanity made them cruel, and their cruelty condemned
them to a lonely, loveless life. Close observation, however, among the
unmarried women of any one's acquaintance will reveal the fact that it
is not from the ranks of silly or cruel women that the majority of old
maids come. Men do not, as a rule, dislike silly women; and by a wise
provision of nature, they are rather fond of marrying pretty, helpless
creatures who cannot help themselves. Neither are cruel women
universally unpopular. Some lovers like
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MEMOIRS
CORRESPONDENCE AND MANUSCRIPTS
OF
GENERAL LAFAYETTE
By Lafayette
Published By His Family.
Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1837,
by William A. Duer,
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.
Respectfully to collect and scrupulously to arrange the manuscripts of
which an irreparable misfortune has rendered them depositaries, have
been for the Family of General Lafayette the accomplishment of a sacred
duty.
To publish those manuscripts without any commentary, and place them,
unaltered, in the hands of the friends of Liberty, is a pious and solemn
homage which his children now offer with confidence to his memory.
GEORGE WASHINGTON LAFAYETTE.
ADVERTISEMENT
OF THE AMERICAN EDITOR.
It was the desire of the late General Lafayette, that this edition of
his Memoirs and Correspondence should be considered as a legacy of the
American people. His representatives have accordingly pursued a course
which they conceived the best adapted to give effect to his wishes, by
furnishing a separate edition for this country, without any reservation
for their own advantage, beyond the transfer of the copyright as an
indemnity for the expense and risk of publication.
In this edition are inserted some letters which will not appear in the
editions published in Paris and London. They contain details relating to
the American Revolution, and render the present edition more complete,
or, at least, more interesting to Americans. Although written during
the first residence of General Lafayette in America--when he was little
accustomed to write in the English language--the letters in question are
given exactly as they came from his pen--and as well as the others in
the collection written by him in that language are distinguished from
those translated from the French by having the word "Original" prefixed
to them.
It was intended that these letters should have been arranged among those
in the body of the work; in the order of their respective dates; but as
the latter have been stereotyped before the former had been transmitted
to the American editor, this design was rendered impracticable. They
have therefore from necessity been added in a supplemental form with the
marginal notes which seemed requisite for their explanation.
Columbia College, N. Y., July, 1837.
CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
Notice by the Editors
FIRST VOYAGE AND FIRST CAMPAIGN IN AMERICA--1777, 1778.
Memoirs written by myself, until the year 1780
FRAGMENTS EXTRACTED FROM VARIOUS MANUSCRIPTS
A.--Departure for America in 1777
B.--First Interview between General Washington
and General Lafayette
C.--On the Military commands during the Winter of 1778
D.--Retreat of Barren Hill
E.--Arrival of the French Fleet
F.--Dissensions between the French Fleet
and the American Army
CORRESPONDENCE--1777, 1778:
To the Duke d'Ayen. London, March 9, 1777
To Madame de Lafayette. On board the Victory, May 30
To Madame de Lafayette. Charlestown, June 19
To Madame de Lafayette. Petersburg, July 17
To Madame de Lafayette.--July 23
To Madame de Lafayette. Philadelphia, Sept. 12
To Madame de Lafayette.--Oct. 1
To M. de Vergennes, Minister of Foreign affairs.
Whitemarsh Camp, Oct. 24
To Madame de Lafayette. Whitemarsh Camp, Oct. 29, and Nov. 6
To General Washington. Haddonfeld, Nov. 26
To the Duke d'Ayen. Camp Gulph, Pennsylvania, Dec. 16
To General Washington. Camp, Dec. 30
To General Washington. Head Quarters, Dec. 31
To General Washington. Valley Forge, Dec. 31
To Madame de Lafayette. Camp, near Valley Forge, Jan. 6, 1778
To General Washington
To Madame de Lafayette. York. Feb 3
To General Washington. Hermingtown, Feb. 9
To General Washington. Albany, Feb. 19
To General Washington.--Feb. 23
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Head Quarters, March
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TOBY TYLER
or
TEN WEEKS WITH A CIRCUS
By James Otis
I. TOBY'S INTRODUCTION TO THE CIRCUS
"Wouldn't you give more 'n six peanuts for a cent?" was a question asked
by a very small boy, with big, staring eyes, of a candy vender at a
circus booth. And as he spoke he looked wistfully at the quantity of
nuts piled high up on the basket, and then at the six, each of which now
looked so small as he held them in his hand.
"Couldn't do it," was the reply of the proprietor of the booth, as he
put the boy's penny carefully away in the drawer.
The little fellow looked for another moment at his purchase, and then
carefully cracked the largest one.
A shade--and a very deep shade it was--of disappointment passed over his
face, and then, looking up anxiously, he asked, "Don't you swap 'em when
they're bad?"
The man's face looked as if a smile had been a stranger to it for a long
time; but one did pay it a visit just then, and he tossed the boy two
nuts, and asked him a question at the same time. "What is your name?"
The big brown eyes looked up for an instant, as if to learn whether
the question was asked in good faith, and then their owner said, as he
carefully picked apart another nut, "Toby Tyler."
"Well, that's a queer name."
"Yes, I s'pose so, myself; but, you see, I don't expect that's the
name that belongs to me. But the fellers call me so, an' so does Uncle
Dan'l."
"Who is Uncle Daniel?" was the next question. In the absence of other
customers the man seemed disposed to get as much amusement out of the
boy as possible.
"He hain't my uncle at all; I only call him so because all the boys do,
an' I live with him."
"Where's your father and mother?"
"I don't know," said Toby, rather carelessly. "I don't know much about
'em, an' Uncle Dan'l says they don't know much about me. Here's another
bad nut; goin' to give me two more?"
The two nuts were given him, and he said, as he put them in his pocket
and turned over and over again those which he held in his hand: "I
shouldn't wonder if all of these was bad. S'posen you give me two for
each one of 'em before I crack 'em, an' then they won't be spoiled so
you can't sell 'em again."
As this offer of barter was made, the man looked amused, and he asked,
as he counted out the number which Toby desired, "If I give you these,
I suppose you'll want me to give you two more for each one, and you'll
keep that kind of a trade going until you get my whole stock?"
"I won't open my head if every one of em's bad."
"All right; you can keep what you've got, and I'll give you these
besides; but I don't want you to buy any more, for I don't want to do
that kind of business."
Toby took the nuts offered, not in the least abashed, and seated himself
on a convenient stone to eat them, and at the same time to see all that
was going on around him. The coming of a circus to the little town of
Guilford was an event, and Toby had hardly thought of anything else
since the highly colored posters had first been put up. It was yet quite
early in the morning, and the tents were just being erected by the men.
Toby had followed, with eager eyes, everything that looked as if it
belonged to the circus, from the time the first wagon had entered the
town until the street parade had been made and everything was being
prepared for the afternoon's performance.
The man who had made the losing trade in peanuts seemed disposed to
question the boy still further, probably owing to the fact that he had
nothing better to do.
"Who is this Uncle Daniel you say you live with? Is he a farmer?"
"No; he's a deacon, an' he raps me over the head with the hymn book
whenever I go to sleep in meetin', an' he says I eat four times as much
as I earn. I blame him for hittin' so hard when I go to sleep, but I
s'pose he's right about my eatin'. You see," and here his tone grew both
confidential and mournful, "I am an awful eater, an' I can't seem to
help it. Somehow I'm hungry all the time. I don't seem ever to get
enough till carrot time comes, an' then I can get all I want without
troublin' anybody."
"Didn't you ever have enough to eat?"
"I s'pose I did; but you see Uncle Dan'l he found me one mornin' on his
hay, an' he says I was cryin' for something to eat then, an' I've kept
it up ever since. I tried to get him to give me money enough to go into
the circus with; but he said a cent was all he could spare these hard
times, an' I'd better take that an' buy something to eat with it, for
the show wasn't very good, anyway. I wish peanuts wasn't but a cent a
bushel."
"Then you would make yourself sick eating them."
"Yes, I s'pose I should; Uncle Dan'l says I'd eat till I was sick, if I
got the chance; but I'd like to try it once."
He was a very small boy, with a round head covered with short red hair,
a face as speckled as any turkey's egg, but thoroughly good natured
looking; and as he sat there on the rather sharp point of the rock,
swaying his body to and fro as he hugged his knees with his hands, and
kept his eyes fastened on the tempting display of good things before
him, it would have been a very hard hearted man who would not have given
him something.
But Mr. Job Lord, the proprietor of the booth, was a hard hearted man,
and he did not make the slightest advance toward offering the little
fellow anything.
Toby rocked himself silently for a moment, and then he said,
hesitatingly, "I don't suppose you'd like to sell me some things, an'
let me pay you when I get older, would you?"
Mr. Lord shook his head decidedly at this proposition.
"I didn't s'pose you would," said Toby, quickly; "but you didn't seem
to be selling anything, an' I thought I'd just see what you'd say
about it." And then he appeared suddenly to see something wonderfully
interesting behind him, which served as an excuse to turn his reddening
face away.
"I suppose your uncle Daniel makes you work for your living, don't he?"
asked Mr. Lord, after he had rearranged his stock of candy and had added
a couple of slices of lemon peel to what was popularly supposed to be
lemonade.
"That's what I think; but he says that all the work I do wouldn't pay
for the meal that one chicken would eat, an' I s'pose it's so, for I
don't like to work as well as a feller without any father and mother
ought to. I don't know why it is, but I guess it's because I take up so
much time eatin' that it kinder tires me out. I s'pose you go into the
circus whenever you want to, don't you?"
"Oh yes; I'm there at every performance, for I keep the stand under the
big canvas as well as this
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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
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