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"A RICH MAN'S WAR"***
E-text prepared by ellinora and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/frenziedlibertyt00kahn
Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
FRENZIED LIBERTY
The Myth of “A Rich Man’S War”
by
OTTO H. KAHN
Extracts from Address Given at the University of Wisconsin,
Jan. 14, 1918
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part One
Frenzied Liberty
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FRENZIED LIBERTY
We are engaged in a war, an “irrepressible conflict,” a most just and
righteous war for a cause as high and noble as ever inspired a people to
put forth its utmost of sacrifice and valor. To attain the end for which
this peace-loving nation unsheathed its sword, to lay low and make
powerless the accursed spirit which brought all this unspeakable misery,
sorrow and ruin upon the world, is our one and supreme and unshakeable
purpose.
That is the purpose of the people of Wisconsin as it is the purpose of
the people of New York and of every other State in the Union. I give no
credence to and have no patience with those who would measure as with a
thermometer the loyalty temperature of our communities. Some dreamers
there may be, here as everywhere, so immersed in their dreams that the
trumpet call of the day has not yet awakened them.
Some politicians there may be, here and elsewhere, so obsessed by the
issues which heretofore were good election assets and so unable to shake
off the inveterate habits and the formulas and calculations of a
lifetime, that they are unable to recognize and to share in the sudden
flaming manifestations springing from the deep of the people’s soul—and
after a while, looking around for their usual followers, find themselves
in chilly loneliness.
Some there are, a small minority always and getting smaller every day,
among Americans of German birth or descent who lack the vision to see
their duty or the strength to follow it, and who stand irresolute,
hesitant and dazed.
The vast and overwhelming majority have acted like true men and loyal
Americans. They are entitled to claim your sympathetic understanding for
the heartache which is theirs and they are entitled to claim your trust.
It will not be misplaced. I am taking very little account of that
insignificant number of men of German origin who, misguided or corrupt,
dare by insidious and underground processes to attempt to weaken or
oppose the resolute will of the Nation. There are too few of them to
count and their manoeuvres are too clumsy to be effective. But let them
be warned. There is sweeping through the country a mighty wave of stern
and grim determination, which bodes ill for anyone standing in its way.
II
One element only there is in our population which does deliberately
challenge our national unity. I mean the militant Bolsheviki in our
midst, the preachers and devotees of liberty run amuck, who would place
a visionary class interest above patriotism and who in ignorant
fanaticism would substitute for the tyranny of autocracy the still more
intolerable tyranny of mob-rule, as for the time being they have done in
Russia.
If it were not for the disablement of Russia, the battle against
autocracy would have been won by now. As so often before, liberty has
been wounded in the house of its friends. Liberty in the wild and
freakish hands of fanatics has once more, as frequently in the past,
proved the effective helpmate of autocracy and the twin brother of
tyranny.
Out-czaring the czar, its votaries are filling the prisons with their
political opponents, are practising ruthless spoliation and savage
oppression, and are maintaining their self-constituted rule by the force
of bayonets. Riot, robbery, famine, fratricidal strife are stalking
through the land.
The deadliest foe of democracy is not autocracy but liberty frenzied.
Liberty is not fool-proof. For its beneficent working it demands
self-restraint, a sane and clear recognition of the practical and
attainable and of the fact that there are laws of nature which are
beyond our power to change.
Liberty can, does and must limit the rights of the strong, it must
increasingly guard and promote the well-being of those endowed with
lesser gifts for the struggle for existence and success, it must strive
in every way consistent with sane recognition of the realities to make
life more worth living to those whose existence is cast in the
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[Illustration]
MR. BLAKE’S
WALKING-STICK:
_A CHRISTMAS STORY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS_.
BY EDWARD EGGLESTON,
AUTHOR OF
“THE ROUND TABLE STORIES,” “THE CHICKEN LITTLE STORIES,”
“STORIES TOLD ON A CELLAR DOOR,” ETC.
CHICAGO:
ADAMS, BLACKMER, & LYON PUBLISHING CO.
1872.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870,
BY ADAMS, BLACKMER, & LYON PUBLISHING COMPANY,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY
H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.
TO OUR
LITTLE SILVERHAIR
Who used to listen to My Stories;
BUT WHO IS NOW
Listening to the Christmas Stories of the Angels,
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
_I have meant to furnish a book that would serve for a Christmas
present to Sunday-scholars, either from the school or from their
teachers. I hope it is a story, however, appropriate to all seasons,
and that it will enforce one of the most beautiful and one of the most
frequently forgotten precepts of the Lord Jesus._
EDWARD EGGLESTON.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE WALKING-STICK WALKS 11
CHAPTER II.
LONG
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STUDIES
IN
ZECHARIAH.
BY
A. C. GAEBELEIN.
_EIGHTH EDITION._
PRINTING BY
FRANCIS E. FITCH, INC,
47 BROAD ST., NEW YORK.
Copyright 1911, by A. C. Gaebelein.
FOREWORD TO THE EIGHTH EDITION.
This little exposition of the Prophecies of Zechariah was written
almost 15 years ago. We are thankful to God that it has been a help
to so many. The sixth edition has been sold and a seventh has become
necessary.
We were somewhat reluctant to print another edition. When this book
was written the writer did not at all have a clear vision in the
prophetic Word concerning the great predicted end events of the times
of the Gentiles. Like so many others he did not distinguish between
the personal Antichrist and the King of the North. He then held the
view, which is still taught by many, that the first beast in
Revelation xiii is the personal Antichrist. This belief led into
incorrect views about that part of Revelation.
Since writing the book it has pleased the Lord to give the writer
better light on these great prophetic unfoldings and for this reason
some of the interpretations given, especially on pages 135, 136 and
137, are no longer looked upon by the author as being scripturally
correct. In our later books "The Harmony of the Prophetic Word"
"Joel," and especially "Exposition of Daniel," the truth as revealed
in Prophecy concerning the two beasts and the King of the North, is
given. We therefore request the reader to consider this when studying
this volume.
We are sure the Lord will continue to bless the simple unfolding of
the greatest Post exile Prophet. So little is written on this great
book that we feel that we should not withhold this imperfect
exposition from the students of the Word of Prophecy. May the Lord
continue to bless it.
A. C. GAEBELEIN.
Sept. 30, 1911.
INTRODUCTION.
Zechariah, the name of the prophet whose visions and prophecies we
desire to study, is not an uncommon name in divine history. Its
meaning is _Jehovah remembers_. He is called the son of Berachiah,
_Jehovah blesses_, the son of Iddo, _the appointed time_. There is
here, as in many other instances in the Bible, a great significance
in the Hebrew names. The name of the grandfather of Zechariah (who
probably brought him up, as his father must have died early), his
father's name and his own read in English translation, _the appointed
time_, _Jehovah blesses_, _Jehovah remembers_. The Holy Spirit has
inspired these very names; they are in themselves a commentary to the
prophecies and visions God gave to Zechariah, for they speak of an
appointed time of God's blessings for Jerusalem and of His loving
remembrance.
Zechariah was born in Babylon in the captivity, for when he returned
to the land of his fathers he was but a child. Like some other
prophets he was a priest as well as a prophet. His work as a prophet
was commenced by him when he was a young man, for thus he is called
in one of the visions. The time of his opening address to the people
is two months after Haggai had opened his lips in Jehovah's name.
Haggai received the word of the Lord in the sixth month in the second
year of Darius, and Zechariah in the eighth month of the same year of
the reign of that King, about 520 before Christ.
Both prophets had the same thought given, namely, to encourage the
Jewish remnant in the blessed work of rebuilding the house of the
Lord. This work had suffered an interruption; the Samaritans were the
cause of it. They had applied to join in the work, but as the remnant
considered them idolators and as not belonging to God's people, the
application was rejected. These Samaritans tried after that in
various ways to hinder the rebuilding, which had so blessedly begun.
At last they succeeded in obtaining a decree which forbade the
building of the Temple. All work had to be stopped and ceased for
about fourteen years. But when the King who had forbidden the
prosecution of the work had died and Darius became King, the building
of the Temple was once more made possible. The leaders of the people
in the enterprise were Serubbabel and the High Priest Joshua. But
again they were hindered from the outside, while on the other hand
the people themselves had lost much interest and possessed no longer
that love and zeal for God's house, which was so prominent after
their return. Thus Haggai said: _This people say, It is not the time
for us to come, the time for the Lord's house to be built... It is
a time for you to dwell in your ceiled houses, while this house lieth
waste_. Haggai, chapter 1.
In that critical moment these two prophets made their appearance, and
God gave them visions of comfort and glad tidings to encourage the
disheartened, selfish and unbelieving people.
The visions and prophecies of Zechariah, however, do not only give an
assurance that there could be no failure in the work the remnant had
taken up anew, but more than that in them the glorious future of
Jerusalem and Zion is unfolded. They lead up to the grand finale of
the history of God's ancient people, the time when Israel, redeemed
and restored forever, will sing the grand and glorious Hallelujah.
It is, of course, true that Zechariah did a blessed work for the
people who lived in his day; he had a special mission to perform and
succeeded in it, but the Spirit of God in the message of comfort for
that time gives the history of events then in a distant future
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CHRISTINE
By AMELIA E. BARR
Christine
Joan
Profit and Loss
Three Score and Ten
The Measure of a Man
The Winning of Lucia
Playing with Fire
All the Days of My Life
D. APPLETON & COMPANY
Publishers New York
[Illustration: When she came to the top of the cliff, she turned and
gazed again at the sea. Page 6]
CHRISTINE
A FIFE FISHER GIRL
BY
AMELIA E. BARR
AUTHOR OF "JOAN", "PROFIT AND LOSS", "THE MEASURE OF A MAN",
"ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE", ETC.
FRONTISPIECE BY STOCKTON MULFORD
"_The sea is His, and He made it_"
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK LONDON
1917
COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
I Inscribe This Book To
Rutger Bleecker Jewett
Because He is my Friend, And
Expresses All That Jewel of a
Monosyllable Requires And
Because, Though a Landsman,
He Loves the Sea And
In His Dreams, He is a Sailor.
Amelia E. Barr.
_January 7th, 1917._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Fishers of Culraine 1
II. Christine and the Domine 23
III. Angus Ballister 38
IV. The Fisherman's Fair 61
V. Christine and Angus 86
VI. A Child, Two Lovers, and a Wedding 115
VII. Neil and a Little Child 152
VIII. An Unexpected Marriage 183
IX. A Happy Bit of Writing 212
X. Roberta Interferes 247
XI. Christine Mistress of Ruleson Cottage 280
XII. Neil's Return Home 306
XIII. The Right Mate and the Right Time 339
XIV. After Many Years 362
CHAPTER I
FISHERS OF CULRAINE
The hollow oak our palace is
Our heritage the sea.
Howe'er it be it seems to me
'Tis only noble to be good.
Kind hearts are more than coronets
And simple faith than Norman blood.
Friends, who have wandered with me through England, and Scotland, and
old New York, come now to Fife, and I will tell you the story of
Christina Ruleson, who lived in the little fishing village of
Culraine, seventy years ago. You will not find Culraine on the map,
though it is one of that chain of wonderful little towns and villages
which crown, as with a diadem, the forefront and the sea-front of the
ancient kingdom of Fife. Most of these towns have some song or story,
with which they glorify themselves, but Culraine--hidden in the clefts
of her sea-girt rocks--was _in_ the world, but not _of_ the world.
Her people lived between the sea and the sky, between their hard lives
on the sea, and their glorious hopes of a land where there would be
"no more sea."
Seventy years ago every man in Culraine was a fisherman, a mighty,
modest, blue-eyed Goliath, with a serious, inscrutable face; naturally
a silent man, and instinctively a very courteous one. He was exactly
like his great-grandfathers, he had the same fishing ground, the same
phenomena of tides and winds, the same boat of rude construction, and
the same implements for its management. His modes of thought were just
as stationary. It took the majesty of the Free Kirk Movement, and its
host of self-sacrificing clergy, to rouse again that passion of
religious faith, which made him the most thorough and determined of
the followers of John Knox.
The women of these fishermen were in many respects totally unlike the
men. They had a character of their own, and they occupied a far more
prominent position in the village than the men did. They were the
agents through whom all sales were effected, and all the money passed
through their hands. They were talkative, assertive, bustling, and a
marked contrast to their gravely silent husbands.
The Fife fisherman dresses very much like a sailor--though he never
looks like one--but the Fife fisher-wife had then a distinctly foreign
look. She delighted in the widest stripes, and the brightest colors.
Flaunting calicoes and many- kerchiefs were her steady fashion.
Her petticoats were very short, her feet trigly shod, and while
unmarried she wore a most picturesque headdress of white muslin or
linen, set a little backward over her always luxuriant hair. Even in
her girlhood she was the epitome of power and self-reliance, and the
husband who could prevent her in womanhood from making the bargains
and handling the money, must have been an extraordinarily clever man.
I find that in representing a certain class of humanity, I have
accurately described, mentally and physically, the father and mother
of my heroine; and it is only necessary to say further that James
Ruleson was a sternly devout man. He trusted God heartily at all
hazards, and submitted himself and all he loved to the Will of God,
with that complete self-abnegation which is perhaps one of the best
fruits of a passionate Calvinism.
For a fisherman he was doubtless well-provided, but no one but his
wife, Margot Ruleson, knew the exact sum of money lying to his credit
in the Bank of Scotland; and Margot kept such knowledge strictly
private. Ruleson owned his boat, and his cottage, and both were a
little better and larger than the ordinary boat and cottage; while
Margot was a woman who could turn a penny ten times over better than
any other woman in the cottages of Culraine. Ruleson also had been
blessed with six sons and one daughter, and with the exception of the
youngest, all the lads had served their time in their father's boat,
and even the one daughter was not excused a single duty that a
fisher-girl ought to do.
Culraine was not a pretty village, though its cottages were all alike
whitewashed outside, and roofed with heather. They had but two rooms
generally--a but and a ben, with no passage between. The majority were
among the sand hills, but many were built on the lofty, sea-lashed
rocks. James Ruleson's stood on a wide shelf, too high up for the
highest waves, though they often washed away the wall of the garden,
where it touched the sandy shore.
The house stood by itself. It had its own sea, and its own sky, and
its own garden, the latter sloping in narrow, giddy paths to the very
beach. Sure feet were needed among its vegetables, and its thickets of
gooseberry and currant bushes, and its straying tangles of blackberry
vines. Round the whole plot there was a low stone wall, covered with
wall-flowers, wild thyme, rosemary, and house-leek.
A few beds around the house held roses and lilies, and other floral
treasures, but these were so exclusively Margot's property, and
Margot's adoration, that I do not think she would like me even to
write about them. Sometimes she put a rosebud in the buttonhole of her
husband's Sunday coat, and sometimes Christina had a similar favor,
but Margot was intimate with her flowers. She knew every one by a
special name, and she counted them every morning. It really hurt her
to cut short their beautiful lives, and her eldest son Norman, after
long experience said: "If Mither cuts a flower, she'll ill to live
wi'. I wouldna tine her good temper for a bit rosebud. It's a poor
bargain."
One afternoon, early in the June of 1849, Christine Ruleson walked
slowly up the narrow, flowery path of this mountain garden. She was
heard before she was seen, for she was singing an east coast ballad,
telling all the world around her, that she
--Cast her line in Largo bay,
And fishes she caught nine;
Three to boil, and three to fry,
And three to bait the line.
So much she sang, and then she turned to the sea. The boat of a
solitary fisherman, and a lustrously white bird, were lying quietly on
the bay, close together, and a large ship with all her sails set was
dropping lazily along to the south. For a few moments she watched
them, and then continued her song.
She was tall and lovely, and browned and bloomed in the fresh salt
winds. Her hair had been loosened by the breeze, and had partially
escaped from her cap. She had a broad, white brow, and the dark blue
eyes that dwelt beneath it were full of soul--not a cloud in them,
only a soft, radiant light, shaded by eyelids deeply fringed, and
almost transparent--eyelids that were eloquent--full of secrets. Her
mouth was beautiful, her lips made for loving words--even little
children wanted to kiss her. And she lived the very life of the sea.
Like it she was subject to ebb and flow. Her love for it was perhaps
prenatal, it might even have driven her into her present incarnation.
When she came to the top of the cliff, she turned and gazed again at
the sea. The sunshine then fell all over her, and her dress came into
notice. It was simple enough, yet very effective--a white fluted cap,
lying well back on her bright, rippling hair, long gold rings in her
ears, and a vivid scarlet kerchief over her shoulders. Her skirt was
of wide blue and gray stripes, but it was hardly noticeable, for
whoever looked in Christine's face cared little about her dress. He
could never tell what she wore.
As she stood in the sunshine, a young man ran out of the house to meet
her--a passing handsome youth, with his heart in his eager face and
outstretched hands.
"Christine! Christine!" he cried. "Where at a' have you keepit
yourself? I hae been watching and waiting for you, these three hours
past."
"Cluny! You are crushing the bonnie flowers i' my hands, and I'm no
thanking you for that."
"And my puir heart! It is atween your twa hands, and it's crushing it
you are, day after day. Christine, it is most broke wi' the cruel grip
o' longing and loving--and not a word o' hope or love to help it haud
together."
"You should learn seasonable times, Cluny. It's few lasses that can be
bothered wi' lovers that come sae early. Women folk hae their hands
full o' wark o' some kind, then."
"Ay, full o' flowers. They canna even find time to gie the grip o'
their hand to the lad that loves them, maist to the death throe."
"I'm not wanting any lad to love me to the death throe, and I'm not
believing them, when they talk such-like nonsense. No indeed! The lad
I love must be full o' life and _forthput_. He must be able to guide
his boat, and throw and draw his nets single-handed--if needs be."
"I love you so! I love you so! I can do nothing else, Christine!"
"_Havers!_ Love sweetens life, but it's a long way from being life
itsel'. Many a man, and many a woman, loses their love, but they dinna
fling their life awa' because o' that misfortune--unless they have no
kindred to love, and no God to fear."
"You can't tell how it is, Christine. You never were i' love, I'm
thinking."
"I'm thankfu' to say I never was; and from all I see, and hear, I am
led to believe that being in love isna a superior state o' life. I'm
just hoping that what you ca' love isna of a catching quality."
"I wish it was! Maybe then, you might catch love from me. Oh
Christine, give me a hope, dear lass. I canna face life without it.
'Deed I can not."
"I might do such a thing. Whiles women-folk are left to themsel's, and
then it goes ill wi' them;" and she sighed and shook her head, as if
she feared such a possibility was within her own fate.
"What is it you mean? I'm seeking one word o' kindness from you,
Christine."
Then she looked at him, and she did not require speech. Cluny dared to
draw closer to her--to put his arm round her waist--to whisper such
alluring words of love and promise, that she smiled and gave him a
flower, and finally thought she might--perhaps--sometime--learn the
lesson he would teach her, for, "This warld is fu' o' maybe's, Cluny,"
she said, "and what's the good o' being young, if we dinna expect
miracles?"
"I'm looking for no miracle, Christine. I'm asking for what a man may
win by a woman's favor. I hae loved you, Christine, since I was a bit
laddie o' seven years auld. I'll love you till men carry me to the
kirk yard. I'd die for your love. I'd live, and suffer a' things for
it. Lassie! Dear, dear lassie, dinna fling love like mine awa'.
There's every gude in it."
She felt his heart throbbing in his words, but ere she could answer
them, her brother Neil called her three times, in a voice that
admitted of no delay. "Good-by, Cluny!" she said hurriedly. "You ken
Neil isna to be put off." Then she was gone, and Cluny, full of
bewildered loving and anxious feelings, rushed at headlong speed down
the steep and narrow garden path, to his grandmother's cottage on the
sands.
Neil stood by a little pine table covered with books and papers. He
was nearly twenty-one years old, and compared with his family was
small in stature, lightly built, and dark in complexion. His hair was
black, his eyes somberly gray, and full of calculation. His nose, lean
and sharp, indicated selfish adherence to the realities of life, and
the narrow nostrils positively accused him of timidity and caution.
His mouth was firm and discreet. Taken as a whole, his face was
handsome, though lean and thoughtful; but his manner was less
pleasant. It was that of a serious snob, who thinks there is a destiny
before him. He had been petted and spoiled all his life long, and his
speech and conduct were full of the unpleasant survivals of this
treatment. It spoiled him, and grated on Christine's temperament, like
grit in a fine salad.
He had never made a shilling in his life, he was the gentleman of the
family, elected by the family to that position. In his boyhood he had
been delicate, and quite unfit for the rough labor of the boats, but
as he had developed an extraordinary love for books and learning, the
minister had advised his dedication to the service of either the Law
or the Gospel. To this proposal the whole household cheerfully, even
proudly, agreed. To have an educated man among the Rulesons pleased
everyone. They spoke together of the great Scotch chancellors, and the
great Scotch clergy, and looked upon Neil Ruleson, by special choice
and election, as destined in the future to stand high among Scotland's
clergy or Scotland's lawyers.
For this end, during eleven years, all had given their share without
stint or holdback. That Neil had finally chosen to become a Lord of
the Law, and to sit on the Bench, rather than stand in the Pulpit, was
a great disappointment to his father, who had stubbornly hoped his son
would get the call no man can innocently refuse to answer. His mother
and brothers were satisfied. Norman Ruleson had once seen the Lords
ride in civic pomp and splendid attire to Edinburgh Parliament House,
and he was never weary of describing the majesty of the judges in
their wigs and gowns, and the ceremonials that attended every step of
the administration of justice.
"And the big salary coming to the judges!" Normany always added--"the
salary, and the visible honors arena to be lightlied, or made
little o'. Compared wi' a minister's stipend, a judge's salary is
stin-pen-dous! And they go wi' the best i' the land, and it isna
anything o' a wonder, when a judge is made a lord. There was Lord
Chancellor Campbell, born in Fife itsel', in the vera county town
o' Cupar. I have seen the house next the Bell Inn where he was
born, and his feyther was the minister o' Cupar. About the year
18----"
"You needna fash either us, or yoursel', Norman, wi' names and dates;
it will be time in plenty, when you can add our lad to the list."
Margot at this hour was inclined to side with her husband. Margot
believed in realities. She saw continually the honorable condition of
the Scotch clergy; Norman's story about the royal state and power of
the judges was like something read out of a book. However, now that
Neil was in his last year of study, and looking forward to the
certificate which would place him among men in such a desirable
condition, she would not darken his hopes, nor damp his ardor.
Neil's classes in the Maraschal college at Aberdeen were just closed,
but he was very busy preparing
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[Illustration:
PLATE I.
THE GREAT WHEEL IN ACTION.
]
DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS
OF THE
NINETEENTH CENTURY
Who saw what ferns and palms were pressed
Under the tumbling mountain’s breast,
In the safe herbal of the coal?
But when the quarried means were piled,
All is waste and worthless, till
Arrives the wise selecting Will,
And, out of slime and chaos, Wit
Draws the threads of fair and fit.
Then temples rose, and towns, and marts,
The shop of toil, the hall of arts;
Then flew the sail across the seas
To feed the North from tropic trees;
The storm-wind wove, the torrent span,
Where they were bid the rivers ran;
New slaves fulfilled the poet’s dream,
Galvanic wire, strong-shouldered steam.
EMERSON.
DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS
OF THE
NINETEENTH CENTURY
BY
ROBERT ROUTLEDGE, B.Sc.,
SOMETIME ASSISTANT EXAMINER IN CHEMISTRY AND IN NATURAL PHILOSOPHY TO
THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON
THIRTEENTH EDITION
REVISED AND PARTLY RE-WRITTEN, WITH ADDITIONS
CONTAINING FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
1900
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[Illustration: C. M. Tucker
from a Photograph taken at Toronto in 1875.
W. Notman Photo. Walker & Boutall, Ph.Sc.]
A LADY OF ENGLAND
_THE LIFE AND LETTERS_
OF
CHARLOTTE MARIA TUCKER
BY
AGNES GIBERNE
AUTHOR OF ‘SUN, MOON, AND STARS,’ ‘RADIANT SUNS,’ ETC.
‘_Nil desperandum_’
Motto of the Tucker Family
NEW YORK
A. C. ARMSTRONG & SON
51 EAST TENTH STREET
1895
Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
The principal mass of materials for this Biography was placed in my
hands last summer by the Rev. W. F. Tucker Hamilton, nephew of Charlotte
Maria Tucker (A. L. O. E.), and since then many other relatives or
friends, both in England and in India, have contributed their share of
help, either in the way of written recollections or of correspondence.
A paucity of materials exists as to the early part of the life; but
in later years the difficulty is of a precisely opposite description,
arising from a superabundance of details. Hundreds of letters, more or
less interesting in themselves, have had to be put ruthlessly aside, to
make room for others of greater interest. From first to last the long
series between Charlotte Tucker and her own especial sister-friend, Mrs.
Hamilton, takes precedence of all other letters in point of freedom,
naturalness, and simplicity. The perfect trust and unshadowed devotion
which subsisted between these two form a rare and beautiful picture.
It has seemed to me, and it may seem to others, that the main question in
the Life of Miss Tucker is, not so much what she _did_ here or there,
in England or in India, as what she _was_. Many a discussion has taken
place, and doubtless will again take place, as to the wisdom of her
modes of Missionary work, and as to the degree of success or non-success
which attended her labours. I have endeavoured to give fairly certain
opposite views upon this question, even while strongly impressed with the
conviction that no human being is capable of judging with respect to the
worth of work done in his own age and generation. Subtle consequences,
working below the surface, are often far more weighty, far more lasting,
than the most approved ‘results’ following immediately upon certain
efforts,--results which are, not seldom, found after a while to be of the
nature of mere froth. Nothing can be more unprofitable, usually, than
the task of endeavouring to ‘count conversions.’ It is of infinitely
greater importance to note with what absolute self-devotion Miss Tucker
entered into the toil, with what resolution she persevered in the face of
obstacles, with what eagerness she did the very utmost within her power.
In writing the story of Miss Tucker’s life at Batala, it has been
impossible not to write also, in some degree, the story of the Infant
Church at Batala. My main object has of course been simply to show what
Charlotte Maria Tucker herself was; and Mission work, Mission incidents,
Missionaries themselves, come in merely incidentally, as part of the
background to her figure. Mention of them is accidental and fragmentary;
not systematic. At the same time there is no doubt that nothing would
have gratified Miss Tucker more than that any use should have been made
of her letters likely to help forward the great work of Missions among
the Heathen. Some years before the end, when in severe illness she
thought herself to be passing away, she spoke of the possibility that
her long correspondence about Batala might be so employed, and earnestly
hoped that, if it were so, no one-sided account should be given, but that
shadow as well as sunshine, the dark as well as the bright aspect, should
be frankly presented. I have endeavoured to carry out her wishes in this
particular.
It is to be regretted that at least a few letters from Mrs. Hamilton to
Miss Tucker cannot be interspersed among the many from Miss Tucker to
Mrs. Hamilton. None, however, have come to hand. Before Miss Tucker went
to India she destroyed the bulk of her papers, after a ruthless fashion;
and it does not appear that while in India she kept any of the letters
that she received.
After some hesitation I have decided to give generally the names in full
of those Missionaries,
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THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
_THE_
HARLOT'S PROGRESS
THEOPHILUS CIBBER
(_1733_)
_and_
_THE_
RAKE'S PROGRESS
(_MS., Ca. 1778-1780_)
_Introduction by_
MARY F. KLINGER
PUBLICATION NUMBER _181_
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
_1977_
GENERAL EDITORS
William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles
Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles
David Stuart Rodes, University of California, Los Angeles
ADVISORY EDITORS
James L. Clifford, Columbia University
Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia
Vinton A. D
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by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: Compare the unfavorable artificial environment of
a crowded city with the more favorable environment of the
country.]
A CIVIC BIOLOGY
Presented in Problems
BY
GEORGE WILLIAM HUNTER, A.M.
HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGY, DE WITT CLINTON
HIGH SCHOOL, CITY OF NEW YORK.
AUTHOR OF "ELEMENTS OF BIOLOGY," "ESSENTIALS OF
BIOLOGY," ETC.
[Illustration: Printer's Logo]
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
GEORGE WILLIAM HUNTER.
COPYRIGHT, 1914, IN GREAT BRITAIN.
* * * * *
HUNTER, CIVIC BIOLOGY.
W. P. 3
Dedicated
TO MY
FELLOW TEACHERS
OF THE DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGY
IN THE DE WITT CLINTON HIGH SCHOOL
WHOSE CAPABLE, EARNEST, UNSELFISH
AND INSPIRING AID HAS MADE
THIS BOOK POSSIBLE
FOREWORD TO TEACHERS
A course in biology given to beginners in the secondary school should have
certain aims. These aims must be determined to a degree, first, by the
capabilities of the pupils, second, by their native interests, and, third,
by the environment of the pupils.
The boy or girl of average ability upon admission to the secondary school
is not a thinking individual. The training given up to this time, with but
rare exceptions, has been in the forming of simple concepts. These concepts
have been reached didactically and empirically. Drill and memory work have
been the pedagogic vehicles. Even the elementary science work given has
resulted at the best in an interpretation of some of the common factors in
the pupil's environment, and a widening of the meaning of some of his
concepts. Therefore, the first science of the secondary school, elementary
biology, should be primarily the vehicle by which the child is taught to
solve problems and to think straight in so doing. No other subject is more
capable of logical development. No subject is more vital because of its
relation to the vital things in the life of the child. A series of
experiments and demonstrations, discussed and applied as definite concrete
problems which have arisen within the child's horizon, will develop power
in thinking more surely than any other subject in the first year of the
secondary school.
But in our eagerness to develop the power of logical thinking we must not
lose sight of the previous training of our pupil. Up to this time the
method of induction, that handmaiden of logical thought, has been almost
unknown. Concepts have been formed deductively by a series of comparisons.
All concepts have been handed down by the authority of the teacher or the
text; the inductive search for the unknown is as yet a closed book. It is
unwise, then, to directly introduce the pupil to the method of induction
with a series of printed directions which, though definite in the mind of
the teacher because of his wider horizon, mean little or nothing as a
definite problem to the pupil. The child must be brought to the
appreciation of the problem through the deductive method, by a comparison
of the future problem with some definite concrete experience within his own
field of vision. Then by the inductive experiment, still led by a series of
oral questions, he comes to the real end of the experiment, the conclusion,
with the true spirit of the investigator. The result is tested in the light
of past experiment and a generalization is formed which means something to
the pupil.
For the above reason the laboratory problems, which naturally precede the
textbook work, should be separated from the subject matter of the text. A
textbook in biology should serve to verify the student's observations made
in the laboratory, it should round out his concept or generalization by
adding such material as he cannot readily observe and it should give the
student directly such information as he cannot be expected to gain directly
or indirectly through his laboratory experience. For these reasons the
laboratory manual has been separated from the text.
"The laboratory method was such an emancipation from the
old-time bookish slavery of pre-laboratory days that we may
have been inclined to overdo it and to subject ourselves to
a new slavery. It should never be forgotten that the
laboratory is simply a means to the end; that the dominant
thing should be a consistent chain of ideas which the
laboratory may serve to elucidate. When, however, the
laboratory assumes the first place and other phases of the
course are made explanatory to it, we have taken, in my
mind, an attitude fundamentally wrong. The question is, not
what _types_ may be taken up in the laboratory to be fitted
into the general scheme afterwards, but what _ideas_ are
most worth while to be worked out and developed in the
laboratory, if that happens to be the best way of doing it,
or if not, some other way to be adopted with perfect
freedom. Too often our course of study of an animal or plant
takes the easiest rather than the most illuminating path.
What is easier, for instance, particularly with large
classes of restless pupils who apparently need to be kept in
a condition of uniform occupation, than to kill a supply of
animals, preferably as near alike as possible, and set the
pupils to work drawing the dead remains? This method is
usually supplemented by a series of questions concerning the
remains which are sure to keep the pupils busy a while
longer, perhaps until the bell strikes, and which usually
are so planned as to anticipate any ideas that might
naturally crop up in the pupil's mind during the drawing
exercise.
"Such
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SECRETS OF THE BOSPHORUS
[Illustration: Ambassador Henry Morgenthau.
[_Frontispiece_
]
SECRETS OF THE
BOSPHORUS
By
AMBASSADOR HENRY MORGENTHAU
CONSTANTINOPLE, 1913-1916
_With 19 Illustrations_
[Illustration: colophon]
LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO.
PATERNOSTER ROW
ERRATA
[Corrected in this etext]
Page 16, line 4, read “_without_” for _with_.
Page 18, line 13, read “_Mexico_” for _Turkey_.
Page 18, line 35, read “_Humann_” instead of _Enver_.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY THE ANCHOR PRESS LTD. TIPTREE ESSEX.
PUBLISHERS’ NOTE
Ambassador Henry Morgenthau requires no introduction to the British
public, but the American diplomat who may with justice be termed _The
Searchlight of Truth at the Golden Horn_, and whose Reminiscences will
rank now and in years to come as historical documents of the first
importance, modestly obscures in his graphic and fascinating narrative
one fact which requires emphasising:
That by his shrewd grasp of enemy psychology, by his unswerving
impartiality, by his tact and dignity, and unflinching courage, he
frustrated again and again the evil designs and machinations of that
trio of arch-s
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FIRST ACROSS THE CONTINENT
The Story of The Exploring Expedition of Lewis and Clark in 1804-5-6
By Noah Brooks
Chapter I -- A Great Transaction in Land
The people of the young Republic of the United States were greatly
astonished, in the summer of 1803, to learn that Napoleon Bonaparte,
then First Consul of France, had sold to us the vast tract of land known
as the country of Louisiana. The details of this purchase were arranged
in Paris (
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
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Internet Archive)
ALAMO RANCH
_A Story of New Mexico_
BY SARAH WARNER BROOKS
Author of "My Fire Opal," "The Search of Ceres," etc.
CAMBRIDGE
PRIVATELY PRINTED
MCMIII
UNIVERSITY PRESS. JOHN WILSON
AND SON. CAMBRIDGE. U.S.A.
TO LEON
_Across the silence that between us stays,
Speak! I should hear it from God's outmost sun,
Above Earth's noise of idle blame and praise,--
The longed-for whisper of thy dear "Well done!"_
[Illustration: ALAMO RANCH]
ALAMO RANCH
_A STORY OF NEW MEXICO_
CHAPTER I
It is autumn; and the last week in November. In New Mexico, this land of
sunshine, the season is now as kindly as in the early weeks of our
Northern September.
To-day the sky is one cloudless arch of sapphire! The light breeze
scarce ruffles a leaf of the tall alamo, the name tree of this ranch.
Here any holding bigger than a kitchen garden is known as a ranch. The
alamo, Spanish for poplar, lends here and there its scant, stiff shade
to this roomy adobe dwelling, with its warm southern frontage and
half-detached wings. Behind the house irregular out-buildings are
scattered about.
A commodious corral, now the distinguished residence of six fine Jersey
cows, lies between the house and the orchard,--a not over-flourishing
collection of peach, apricot, and plum trees.
Here and there may be seen wide patches of kitchen garden, carefully
intersected by irrigating ditches.
Near and afar, wide alfalfa fields with their stiff aftermath stretch
away to the very rim of the mesa, where the cotton-tail makes his home,
and sage-brush and mesquite strike root in the meagre soil. Cones of
alfalfa hay stacked here and there outline themselves like giant
beehives against the soft blue sky; and over all lies the sunny silence
of a cloudless afternoon with its smiling westering sun.
Basking in this grateful warmth, their splint arm-chairs idly tilted
against the house-front, the boarders look with sated invalid eyes upon
this gracious landscape.
Alamo Ranch is a health resort. In this thin, dry air of Mesilla Valley,
high above the sea level, the consumptive finds his Eldorado. Hither,
year by year, come these foredoomed children of men to fight for breath,
putting into this struggle more noble heroism and praiseworthy courage
than sometimes goes to victory in battle-fields.
Of these combatants some are still buoyed by the hope of recovery;
others are but hopeless mortals, with the single sad choice of eking out
existence far from friends and home, or returning to native skies, there
to throw up hands in despair and succumb to the foe.
Sixteen miles away the Organ Mountains--seeming, in this wonderfully
clear atmosphere, within but a stone's throw--loom superbly against the
cloudless sky; great hills of sand are these, surmounted by tall,
serrated peaks of bare rock, and now taking on their afternoon array in
the ever-changing light, rare marvels of shifting color,--amethyst and
violet, rosy pink, creamy gold, and dusky purple.
The El Paso range rises sombrely on the gray distance, and on every hand
detached sugar-loaf peaks lend their magnificence to the grand
mesa-range that cordons the Mesilla Valley.
And now, out on the mesa, at first but a speck between the loungers on
the piazza and the distant mountain view, a single pedestrian, an
invalid sportsman, comes in sight. As he nears the ranch with the slowed
step of fatigue, he is heartening himself by the way with a song. When
the listeners hear the familiar tune,--it is "Home, Sweet Home,"--one of
them rallying his meagre wind whistles a faint accompaniment to the
chorus. It is not a success; and with a mirthless laugh, the whistler
abandons his poor attempt, and, with the big lump in his throat swelling
to a sob, rises from his chair and goes dejectedly in. A sympathetic
chord thrills along the tilted piazza chairs.
The discomfited whistler is but newly arrived at Alamo; and his feeble
step and weary, hollow cough predict that the poor fellow's journey will
not take him back to the "Sweet Home" of the song, but rather to the
uncharted country.
And now the invalid sportsman steps cheerily on the piazza.
"Here, you lazy folks," mocks he, holding high his well-filled game-bag,
"behold the pigeon stew for your supper!" And good-naturedly hailing a
Mexican chore-boy, lazily propped by
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LINCOLN IN CARICATURE
By Rufus Rockwell Wilson
Author Of "Washington: The Capital City"
Illustrated With Thirty-two Plates
Printed For Private Distribution
1903
[Illustration: titlepage]
LINCOLN IN CARICATURE
[Illustration: 000] (Illustrated cap)
INCOLN in caricature is a phase of the career of the great war President
that has thus far lacked adequate treatment. Yet he was the most
bitterly assailed and savagely cartooned public man of his time, and one
has only to search the newspapers and periodicals of that period to find
striking confirmation of this fact. The attitude of Great Britain toward
the Union and its President was then one of cynical and scarcely veiled
hostility, and nowhere were the sentiments of the English government
and of the English masses more faithfully reflected than in the cartoons
which appeared in London _Punch_ between 1861 and 1865, many of which
had Lincoln for their central figure. He was also frequently cartooned
in _Vanity Fair_ the American counterpart of _Punch_; in _Frank Leslie's
Illustrated Newspaper_, and in _Harper's Weekly_. Indeed, nowhere were
the changing sentiments of the people of the North, their likes and
dislikes, their alternates hopes and fears, their hasty, often unjust
judgments of men and measures, more vividly reflected than in the
cartoons dealing with Lincoln which appeared in the last named journal
during the epoch-making days of his Presidency. Thus the thirty-two
plates from these sources here brought together have a value and
interest already important and sure to increase with the passage of
time, for they reflect with unconscious vividness, and as nothing else
can do, the life and color of an historic era, and how his fellows
regarded the grandest figure of that era. It is with their value
as human documents in mind that they have been rescued from their
half-forgotten hiding places, and assembled in chronological sequence,
with such comment as may be necessary to make their purpose and meaning
clear to older men, whose memory may have grown dim, as well as to the
new generation that has come upon the stage in the eight and thirty
years that have elapsed since the close of the Civil War.
[Illustration: 001]
|Plate Number One--This cartoon, "Lincoln a la Blondin," which appeared
in _Harper's Weekly_, on August 25, 1860, seems to have been suggested
by Blondin's crossing of Niagara on a tight rope with a man on his
back--an event then fresh in the public mind. It also recalls an
interesting phase of Lincoln's first campaign for the Presidency, which
had its origin in a characteristic incident of the candidate's earlier
years. It was in March, 1830, that Lincoln, at that time a youth of
twenty-one, removed with his father and family from Indiana to Illinois,
locating on the bluffs of the Sangamon River about ten miles from
Decatur. There he and his kinsman, John Hanks, built a hewed log house,
and broke fifteen acres of prairie sod with the two yoke of oxen they
had driven from Indiana. They then felled the trees, cut off the logs,
and with mauls and wedges split the rails to fence in the land they had
broken. The following winter, the winter of the "deep snow" as it
was known in Illinois, Lincoln alone made three thousand rails for a
neighbor, walking three miles each day to do it. The Republican state
convention of Illinois assembled at Decatur on May 9, 1860, and the
first act of its chairman was to invite Lincoln, who was modestly seated
in the body of the hall, to a seat upon the platform. An eye-witness
describes the scene that followed as one of tumultuous enthusiasm. No
way could be made through the shouting throng, and Lincoln was borne
bodily, over their heads and shoulders, to the place of honor. Quiet
restored, the chairman again arose and said:
"There is an old Democrat outside who has something he wishes to present
to this convention."
Then the door of the hall swung open, and a sturdy old man marched in,
shouldering two fence-rails, surmounted by a banner inscribed, in large
letters:
"Two rails from a lot made by Abraham Lincoln and John Hanks in the
Sangamon Bottom, in the year 1830."
The bearer was John Hanks himself, and he had come to do his part in
making his old friend President. "It was an historic scene and
moment. In an instant Lincoln, the rail-splitter, was accepted as the
representative of the working man and the type and embodiment of
the American idea of human freedom and possible human elevation. The
applause was deafening. But it was something more than mere applause,"
for there was no opposition afterwards, to a resolution that declared
Lincoln to be the first choice of the Republicans of Illinois for
President, and instructed the delegates to the national convention to
cast the vote of the State as a unit for him. It is a part
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E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustration.
See 54109-h.htm or 54109-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/54109/54109-h/54109-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/54109/54109-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/roundfirestories00doylrich
Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
[Illustration:
“I BURST WITH A SHRIEK INTO MY OWN LIFE.”
[_Page 12._]
ROUND THE FIRE STORIES
by
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
Author of
“The White Company,” etc., etc.
With a Frontispiece by A. Castaigne
London
Smith, Elder & Co., 15, Waterloo Place
1908
(All rights reserved)
Printed by
William Clowes and Sons, Limited,
London and Beccles.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE
[Illustration]
In a previous volume, “The Green Flag,” I have assembled a number of my
stories which deal with warfare or with sport. In the present collection
those have been brought together which are concerned with the grotesque
and with the terrible—such tales as might well be read “round the fire”
upon a winter’s night. This would be my ideal atmosphere for such
stories, if an author might choose his time and place as an artist does
the light and hanging of his picture. However, if they have the good
fortune to give pleasure to any one, at any time or place, their author
will be very satisfied.
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.
WINDLESHAM,
CROWBOROUGH.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. THE LEATHER FUNNEL 1
II. THE BEETLE HUNTER 18
III. THE MAN WITH THE WATCHES 41
IV. THE POT OF CAVIARE 65
V. THE JAPANNED BOX 85
VI. THE BLACK DOCTOR 103
VII. PLAYING WITH FIRE 129
VIII. THE JEW’S BREASTPLATE 149
IX. THE LOST SPECIAL 177
X. THE CLUB-FOOTED GROCER 202
XI. THE SEALED ROOM 229
XII. THE BRAZILIAN CAT 248
XIII. THE USHER OF LEA HOUSE SCHOOL 276
XIV. THE BROWN HAND 299
XV. THE FIEND OF THE COOPERAGE 321
XVI. JELLAND’S VOYAGE 340
XVII. B. 24 351
“I BURST WITH A SHRIEK INTO MY OWN LIFE.” _Frontispiece_.
(_From a drawing by A. Castaigne._)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
ROUND THE FIRE STORIES
[Illustration]
THE LEATHER FUNNEL
My friend, Lionel Dacre, lived in the Avenue de Wagram, Paris. His house
was that small one, with the iron railings and grass plot in front of
it, on the left-hand side as you pass down from the Arc de Triomphe. I
fancy that it had been there long before the avenue was constructed, for
the grey tiles were stained with lichens, and the walls were mildewed
and discoloured with age. It looked a small house from the street, five
windows in front, if I remember right, but it deepened into a single
long chamber at the back. It was here that Dacre had that singular
library of occult literature, and the fantastic curiosities which served
as a hobby for himself, and an amusement for his friends. A wealthy man
of refined and eccentric tastes, he had spent much of his life and
fortune in gathering together what was said to be a unique private
collection of Talmudic, cabalistic, and magical works, many of them of
great rarity and value. His tastes leaned toward the marvellous and the
monstrous, and I have heard that his experiments in the direction of the
unknown have passed all the bounds of civilization and of decorum. To
his English friends he never alluded to such matters, and took the tone
of the student and _virtuoso_; but a Frenchman whose tastes were of the
same nature has assured me that the worst
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_The_ SPIRIT OF THE SCHOOL
BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR.
Each 12mo, Cloth.
The Spirit of the School.
Illustrated in Colors. $1.50.
Four Afloat.
Illustrated in Colors. $1.50.
Four Afoot.
Illustrated in Colors. $1.50.
Four in Camp.
Illustrated in Colors. $1.50.
On Your Mark.
Illustrated in Colors. $1.50.
The Arrival of Jimpson.
Illustrated. $1.50.
Weatherby’s Inning.
Illustrated in Colors. $1.50.
Behind the Line.
Illustrated. $1.50.
Captain of the Crew.
Illustrated. $1.50.
For the Honor of the School.
Illustrated. $1.50.
The Half-Back.
Illustrated. $1.50.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.
[Illustration: “A more harmless youth it would have been hard to find.”]
_The_
SPIRIT
OF THE SCHOOL
RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
Author of “The Half-Back,” “Weatherby’s Inning,”
“On Your Mark,” etc.
[Illustration]
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK
1907
Copyright, 1907, by
PERRY MASON COMPANY
Copyright, 1907, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
_Published, September, 1907_
TO
JOSEPH SHERMAN FORD
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE IN A NEW RÔLE 1
II.--HANSEL DECLARES FOR REFORM 20
III.--MR. AMES TELLS A STORY 36
IV.--SCHOOL AGAINST TOWN 56
V.--HANSEL MEETS PHINEAS DORR 73
VI.--THE CAUSE GAINS A CONVERT 91
VII.--THE FIRST SKIRMISH 111
VIII.--MR. AMES STATES HIS POSITION 131
IX.--THE SECOND SKIRMISH 149
X.--HANSEL LEAVES THE TEAM 159
XI.--HANSEL MAKES A BARGAIN 176
XII.--THREE IN CONSPIRACY 191
XIII.--FAIRVIEW SENDS A PROTEST 216
XIV.--THE SPIRIT OF THE SCHOOL 241
XV.--THE GAME WITH FAIRVIEW 255
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS[*]
FACING
PAGE
“A more harmless youth it would have been hard to
find.” _Frontispiece_
“‘I am looking for Bert Middleton,’ he announced.” 12
“‘Play the game the best you can, and let me manage your
campaign.’” 108
“In place of his former attire was an immaculate suit of
evening dress.” 118
“He was beginning to be looked upon as ‘queer.’” 156
“‘Who do you think will win, sir?’ asked Phin.” 192
“‘Gee! I didn’t know I represented anything!’” 236
“Lockhard... was streaking around the right end of his
line.” 264
[*] These illustrations are used by arrangement with the publishers of
_The Youth’s Companion_.
THE SPIRIT OF THE SCHOOL
CHAPTER I
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE IN A NEW RÔLE
“It’s all well enough for you to sit there and grin like a gargle.”
“Gargoyle is what you mean, my boy!”
“Well, gargoyle,” continued Bert Middleton. “What’s the difference?
Of course, it’s easy enough for you to laugh about it; it isn’t your
funeral; but I guess if you’d had all your plans made up only to have
them knocked higher than a kite at the last minute----”
“I know,” said Harry Folsom soothingly. “It’s rotten mean luck. I’d
have told the doctor that I wouldn’t do it.”
“But it wasn’t his fault, you see. It’s dad that’s to blame for the
whole business. You see, it was this way. The Danas used to live up in
Feltonville when I was a kid, and dad and Mr. Dana were second cousins
or something, and were
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
+-------------------------------------------------+
|Transcriber's note: |
| |
|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. |
| |
+-------------------------------------------------+
BOOKS BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+THE DAWN OF A TOMORROW.+ Illustrated.
12mo _net_ $1.00
+IN CONNECTION WITH THE DE WILLOUGHBY
CLAIM.+ 12mo _net_ 1.35
+HIS GRACE OF OSMONDE.+ 12mo _net_ 1.35
+A LADY OF QUALITY.+ 12mo _net_ 1.35
+THAT LASS O' LOWRIE'S.+ 12mo _net_ 1.25
+HAWORTH'S.+ Illustrated. 12mo _net_ 1.25
+THROUGH ONE ADMINISTRATION.+ 12mo _net_ 1.35
+LOUISIANA.+ Illustrated. 12mo _net_ 1.25
+A FAIR BARBARIAN.+ 12mo _net_ 1.25
+SURLY TIM, and Other Stories.+ 12mo _net_ 1.25
+VAGABONDIA.+ 12mo _net_ 1.25
+EARLIER STORIES; First Series.+ 12mo _net_ 1.25
+EARLIER STORIES; Second Series.+ 12mo _net_ 1.25
+THE PRETTY SISTER OF JOSÉ.+ Illustrated.
12mo _net_ 1.00
* * * * *
+LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.+ Illustrated. 12mo _net_ 1.20
+SARA CREWE, LITTLE SAINT ELIZABETH, and
Other Stories.+ Illustrated. 12 mo _net_ 1.20
+GIOVANNI AND THE OTHER.+ Illustrated.
12mo _net_ 1.20
+PICCINO, and Other Child Stories.+ Illustrated.
12mo _net_ 1.20
+TWO LITTLE PILGRIMS' PROGRESS. A Story of
the City Beautiful.+ Illustrated. 12mo _net_ 1.20
* * * * *
+LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.+ Illustrated in Color.
8vo _net_ 2.00
+A LITTLE PRINCESS.+ Illustrated in Color. 8vo _net_ 2.00
+THE ONE I KNEW THE BEST OF ALL.+ Illustrated.
12mo _net_ 1.25
THROUGH ONE ADMINISTRATION
BY
FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
_author of "That Lass o' Lowrie's," "Haworth's," "Louisiana," "A Fair
Barbarian," etc., etc._
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1916
COPYRIGHT, 1881 and 1883,
BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.
_All rights reserved._
[Illustration: Logo]
THROUGH ONE ADMINISTRATION.
CHAPTER I.
Eight years before the Administration rendered important by the series
of events and incidents which form the present story, there had come to
Washington, on a farewell visit to a distant relative with whom he was
rather a favorite, a young officer who was on the point of leaving the
civilized world for a far-away Western military station. The name of the
young officer was Philip Tredennis. His relative and entertainer was a
certain well-known entomologist, whom it will be safe to call Professor
Herrick. At the Smithsonian and in all scientific circles, Professor
Herrick's name was a familiar one. He was considered an enviable as well
as an able man. He had established himself in Washington because he
found men there whose tastes and pursuits were congenial with his own,
and because the softness of the climate suited him; he was rich enough
to be free from all anxiety and to enjoy the delightful liberty of
pursuing his scientific labors because they were his pleasure, and not
because he was dependent upon their results. He had a quiet and charming
home, an excellent matter-of-fact wife, and one daughter, who was being
educated in a northern city, and who was said to be as bright and
attractive as one could wish a young creature to be.
Of this daughter Tredennis had known very little, except that she
enjoyed an existence and came home at long intervals for the holidays,
when it did not happen that she was sent to the sea or the mountains
with her mother instead.
The professor himself seemed to know but little of her. He was a quiet
and intensely studious person, taking small interest in the ordinary
world and appearing always slightly surprised when his wife spoke to
him; still, his manner toward her was as gentle and painstaking as if
she had been the rarest possible beetle, and the only one of her species
to be
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Haviland's Chum, by Bertram Mitford.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
HAVILAND'S CHUM, BY BERTRAM MITFORD.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE NEW BOY.
"Hi! Blacky! Here--hold hard. D'you hear, Snowball?"
The last peremptorily. He thus addressed, paused, turned, and eyed
somewhat doubtfully, not without a tinge of apprehension, the group of
boys who thus hailed him.
"What's your name?" pursued the latter, "Caesar, Pompey, Snowball--
what?"
"Or Uncle Tom?" came another suggestion.
"I--new boy," was the response.
"New boy! Ugh!" jeered one fellow. "Time I left if they are going to
take <DW65>s here. What's your name, sir--didn't you hear me ask?"
"Mpukuza."
"Pookoo--how much?"
For answer the other merely emitted a click, which might have conveyed
contempt, disgust, defiance, or a little of all three. He was an
African lad of about fifteen, straight and lithe and well-formed, and
his skin was of a rich copper brown. But there was a clean-cut look
about the set of his head, and an almost entire absence of <DW64>
development of nose and lips, which seemed to point to the fact that it
was with no inferior race aboriginal to the dark continent that he owned
nationality.
Now a hoot was raised among the group, and there was a tendency to
hustle this very unwonted specimen of a new boy. He, however, took it
good-humouredly, exhibiting a magnificent set of teeth in a tolerant
grin. But the last speaker, a biggish, thick-set fellow who was
something of a bully, was not inclined to let him down so easily.
"Take off your hat, sir!" he cried, knocking it off the other's head, to
a distance of some yards. "Now, Mr Woollyhead, perhaps you'll answer
my question and tell us your name, or I shall have to see if some of
this'll come out." And, suiting the action to the word, he reached
forward and grabbed a handful of the other's short, crisp, jetty curls--
jerking his head backwards and forwards.
The African boy uttered a hoarse ejaculation in a strange tongue, and
his features worked with impotent passion. He could not break loose,
and his tormentor was taller and stronger than himself. He put up his
hands to free himself, but the greater his struggles the more the bully
jerked him by the wool, with a malignant laugh. The others laughed too,
enjoying the fun of what they regarded as a perfectly wholesome and
justifiable bout of <DW65> baiting.
But a laugh has an unpleasant knack of transferring itself to the other
side, and in this instance an interruption occurred--wholly
unlooked-for, but sharp and decisive, not to say violent, and to the
prime mover in the sport highly unpleasant--for it took the shape of a
hearty, swinging cuff on the side of that worthy's head. He, with a
howl that was half a curse, staggered a yard or two under the force of
the blow, at the same time loosing his hold of his victim. Then the
latter laughed--being the descendant of generations of savages--laughed
loud and maliciously.
"Confound it, Haviland, what's that for?" cried the smitten one, feeing
round upon his smiter.
"D'you want some more, Jarnley?" came the quick reply. "As it is I've a
great mind to have you up before the prefects' council for bullying a
new boy."
"Prefects' council," repeated Jarnley with a sneer. "That's just it.
If you weren't a prefect, Haviland, I'd fight you. And you know it."
"But I don't know it and I don't think it," was the reply. The while,
something of a smothered hoot was audible among the now rapidly
increasing group, for Haviland, for reasons which will hereinafter
appear, was not exactly a popular prefect. It subsided however, as by
magic, when he darted a glance into the quarter whence it arose.
"Come here--you," he said, beckoning the cause of all the disturbance.
"What's your name?"
"Mpukuza."
"What?"
The African boy repeated it unhesitatingly, willingly. He was
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
SKI-RUNNING.
BY
D. M. M. CHRICHTON SOMERVILLE,
W. R. RICKMERS,
AND E. C. RICHARDSON.
DEDICATED TO
THE SKI CLUB OF GREAT BRITAIN.
EDITED BY
E. C. RICHARDSON.
_WITH NUMEROUS PHOTOGRAPHS AND DIAGRAMS._
SECOND EDITION.
LONDON:
HORACE COX,
WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM’S BUILDINGS, E.C.
1905.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY HORACE COX, WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM’S BUILDINGS, E.C.
[Illustration: “PAA SKARE.”]
PREFACE.
Since the first edition of this book was produced two years ago popular
interest in the sport has increased by leaps and bounds. We have
endeavoured to keep pace with the times, and the present volume is an
attempt to give a really complete account of the sport, which will be
useful to beginners and experts alike. To the historical part has been
added a chapter on Continental ski-running, whilst the technical part
has been remodelled, enlarged, and, we trust, rendered more lucid and
complete. Wherever necessary new diagrams have been added, and the
whole-page illustrations have been chosen with a view to indicating the
great beauty and variety of the snow regions of the earth.
Here and there actual alterations of views previously expressed will be
found. We make no apology for these, but desire frankly to acknowledge
our errors, and to thank those friendly critics who have pointed them
out. With ignorant criticism we have been very little troubled, and
with actual hostility simply not at all.
We are further greatly indebted to the many friends who have rendered
us positive assistance. The frontispiece is from Herr Halström’s
wonderful picture “Paa Skare,” which that gentleman has given us
unqualified leave to reproduce. The ski-runner which it depicts also
serves as a central figure for the cover, designed by Mr. Nico Jungman.
To those who have kindly permitted us to copy their photographs
we hereby take the opportunity of expressing our best thanks. The
outline of the Solberg Hill is from an accurate drawing by Herr Von
de Beauclair published in _Ski_, to the editor of which paper we are
also indebted for the drawings illustrating Herr Sohm’s detachable
seal’s-skin and climbing-irons. To Herr S. Höyer-Ellefsen, Herr Fredrik
Juell, Herr Trygve Smith, Herr Durban Hansen, and numerous other
skilful Norwegian runners we are grateful for many a useful hint and
word of advice, whilst we owe to Herr Zdarsky a valuable practical
demonstration of his methods of teaching. Messrs. C. W. Richardson,
E. H. Wroughton, and H. P. Cox have been kind enough to help with the
actual production of the little work, and if there be any others who we
have omitted to mention we would hereby beg them to accept at once both
our apologies and thanks.
E. C. R.
_November, 1905._
CONTENTS.
_Pages._
PREFACE iii-iv
THE ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF SKI 1-13
CONTINENTAL SKI-RUNNING 13-17
THE ELEMENTS OF SKI-RUNNING 18-85
_Introduction_ 18-20
Part I.--_The Ground and the Snow_ 20-27
Part II.--_Outfit_ 28-52
The Ski 28-35
The Binding 35-43
Footplates 44
The Stick 44-47
Footgear 47-49
Other Clothes 49-50
Accessories 50-51
Part III.--_Technical_ 52-85
Preliminary advice 52-53
Lean forward! 53
To lift the point of the ski 53-55
Turning on the spot 55
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By W.W. Jacobs
[Illustration: 'I tell you, I am as innercent as a new-born babe'.]
SKILLED ASSISTANCE
The night-watchman, who had left his seat on the jetty to answer the
gate-bell, came back with disgust written on a countenance only too well
designed to express it.
"If she's been up 'ere once in the last week to, know whether the
<i>Silvia</i> is up she's been four or five times," he growled. "He's forty-
seven if he's a day; 'is left leg is shorter than 'is right, and he talks
with a stutter. When she's with 'im you'd think as butter wouldn't melt
in 'er mouth; but the way she talked to me just now you'd think I was
paid a-purpose to wait on her. I asked 'er at last wot she thought I was
here for, and she said she didn't know, and nobody else neither. And
afore she went off she told the potman from the 'Albion,' wot was
listening, that I was known all over Wapping as the Sleeping Beauty.
"She ain't the fust I've 'ad words with, not by a lot. They're all the
same; they all start in a nice, kind, soapy sort o' way, and, as soon as
they don't get wot they want, fly into a temper and ask me who, I think I
am. I told one woman once not to be silly, and I shall never forget it
as long as I live-never. For all I know, she's wearing a bit o' my 'air
in a locket to this day, and very likely boasting that I gave it to her.
"Talking of her reminds me of another woman. There was a Cap'n Pinner,
used to trade between 'ere and Hull on a schooner named the Snipe. Nice
little craft she was, and 'e was a very nice feller. Many and many's the
pint we've 'ad together, turn and turn-about, and the on'y time we ever
'ad a cross word was when somebody hid his clay pipe in my beer and 'e
was foolish enough to think I'd done it.
"He 'ad a nice little cottage, 'e told me about, near Hull, and 'is
wife's father, a man of pretty near seventy, lived with 'em. Well-off
the old man was, and, as she was his only daughter, they looked to 'ave
all his money when he'd gorn. Their only fear was that 'e might marry
agin, and, judging from wot 'e used to tell me about the old man, I
thought it more than likely.
"'If it wasn't for my missis he'd ha' been married over and over agin,'
he ses one day. 'He's like a child playing with gunpowder.'
"''Ow would it be to let 'im burn hisself a bit?' I ses.
"'If you was to see some o' the gunpowder he wants to play with, you
wouldn't talk like that,' ses the cap'n. 'You'd know better. The on'y
thing is to keep 'em apart, and my pore missis is wore to a shadder a-
doing of it.'
"It was just about a month arter that that he brought the old man up to
London with 'im. They 'ad some stuff to put out at Smith's Wharf,
t'other side of the river, afore they came to us, and though they was
on'y there four or five days, it was long enough for that old man to get
into trouble.
"The skipper told me about it ten minutes arter they was made snug in the
inner berth 'ere. He walked up and down like a man with a raging
toothache, and arter follering 'im up and down the wharf till I was tired
out, I discovered that 'is father-in-law 'ad got 'imself mixed up with a
widder-woman ninety years old and weighing twenty stun. Arter he 'ad
cooled down a bit, and I 'ad given 'im a few little pats on the shoulder,
'e made it forty-eight years old and fourteen stun.
"'He's getting ready to go and meet her now,' he ses, 'and wot my
missis'll say to me, I don't know.'
"His father-in-law came up on deck as 'e spoke, and began to brush
'imself all over with a clothesbrush. Nice-looking little man 'e was,
with blue eyes, and a little white beard, cut to a point, and dressed up
in a serge suit with brass buttons, and a white yachting cap. His real
name was Mr. Finch, but the skipper called 'im Uncle Dick, and he took
such a fancy to me that in five minutes I was calling 'im Uncle Dick too.
"'Time I was moving,' he ses, by and by. 'I've got an app'intment.'
"'Oh! who with?' ses the skipper, pretending not to know.
"'Friend o' mine, in the army,' ses the old man, with a wink at me. 'So
long.'
"He went off as spry as a boy, and as soon as he'd gorn the skipper
started walking back'ards and for'ards agin, and raving.
"'Let's 'ope as he's on'y amusing 'imself,' I ses.
"'Wait till you see 'er,' ses the skipper; 'then you won't talk
foolishness.'
"As it 'appened she came back with Uncle Dick that evening, to see 'im
safe, and I see at once wot sort of a woman it was. She 'adn't been on
the wharf five minutes afore you'd ha' thought it belonged to 'er, and
when she went and sat on the schooner it seemed to be about 'arf its
size. She called the skipper Tom, and sat there as cool as you please
holding Uncle Dick
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PRACTICAL HIGH SCHOOL
SPELLER
COMPILED BY
TOBIAS O. CHEW, M.S.
SUPERINTENDENT OF CITY SCHOOLS
WASHBURN, WISCONSIN
ALLYN AND BACON
Boston New York Chicago
COPYRIGHT, 1914,
BY TOBIAS O. CHEW.
DAAN
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
Dedicated
TO THE
MANY HIGH SCHOOL SUPERINTENDENTS, PRINCIPALS, AND
TEACHERS, WHO BY THEIR COOePERATION HAVE
MADE POSSIBLE THE COMPILATION
OF THIS BOOK
PREFACE
What are the words most commonly misspelled by the average high school
pupil? In an endeavor to solve this problem, two thousand letters,
with five postal cards in each, were sent to representative high
schools in every state in the United States, requesting the heads of
the various departments to report the words most commonly misspelled
in their classes. From the many thousand replies, this text-book has
been compiled.
The first word in Lesson I was sent in by seven hundred high school
teachers; the other words in this lesson show, by their order, the
frequency with which they appear in the replies. No word has been
considered unless suggested by at least two teachers. This book, then,
built on the judgment of those best qualified to know--the teachers
themselves--contains only the words most frequently misspelled by the
average high school pupil.
A simple phrase is placed after each word, illustrating its use, and
serving to identify it better than would a short, abstract definition.
The division of words into syllables with accent marks will be of
great assistance to the pupil, should there be any question in his
mind as to the correct pronunciation. The typography is based on the
idea that it will be a great help to the pupil in visualizing the
words if he sees them in script as well as in print.
T. O. CHEW.
MARCH, 1914.
A FEW SIMPLE RULES FOR SPELLING
When the diphthongs _ei_ and _ie_ are pronounced _[=e]_, _c_ is
followed by _ei_, all other letters by _ie_. Examples: _ceiling_,
_receive_, _siege_, _believe_. Exceptions: _leisure_, _seize_,
_weird_. The word _slice_ will help pupils to remember this rule--_i_
after _l_ and _e_ after _c_ when applied to _believe_ and _receive_.
* * * * *
Final _y_ following a consonant changes to _i_ before a suffix not
beginning with _i_. Examples: _busy_, _business_; _dry_, _dried_. When
the suffix begins with _i_, as in _-ing_ and _-ish_, the _y_ is
retained to avoid having double _i_. Examples: _try_, _trying_;
_baby_, _babyish_.
When the final _y_ follows a vowel, the _y_ is retained before a suffix.
Examples: _toy_, _toyed_; _betray_, _betrayed_; _annoy_, _annoyed_.
* * * * *
To form the plural of words ending in _y_ following a consonant change
the _y_ to _i_ and add _es_. Examples: _quantity_, _quantities_;
_factory_, _factories_.
When the final _y_ follows a vowel, the _y_ is retained and _s_ added.
Examples: _journey_, _journeys_; _delay_, _delays_; _money_, _moneys_.
* * * * *
Monosyllables and words accented on the last syllable, which end in a
single consonant, following a single vowel, double the final consonant
before a suffix beginning with a vowel. Examples: _hot_, _hotter_;
_begin_, _beginning_. Exceptions: (1) _gas_, _gases_. (2) The letters
_w_, _x_, and _y_ are not doubled. Examples: _show_, _showing_; _box_,
_boxed_; _pay_, _paying_.
In words not accented on the last syllable, the final consonant may or
may not be doubled. Examples: _traveler_ may be spelled _traveller_;
_canceled_, _cancelled_; etc.
* * * * *
In words ending in
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The Wheels of Time
* * * * *
The Wheels of Time
By
Florence L. Barclay
_Author of "The Rosary" and "The Mistress of Shenstone"_
_ILLUSTRATED BY R. G. VOSBURGH_
New York
Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
Publishers
Copyright, 1908, 1910,
By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
_To one woman who said "I go not," but afterwards repented and went_
* * * * *
Illustrations
"Flower," he said, "my lovely fragrant Flower!
"Good old Jane," she said. "I do enjoy talking to you"
"You are not much use at answering questions, darling, are you?"
"Oh, Flower! _You cared like this?_"
* * * * *
The Wheels of Time
The doctor stood, with his hand on the doorknob, and gave a final look
back into his wife's boudoir.
There was nothing in that room suggestive of town or of town life
and work--delicate green and white, a mossy carpet, masses of spring
flowers; cool, soft, noiseless, fragrant.
Standing in the doorway the doctor could hear the agitated clang of the
street-door bell, Stoddart crossing the hall; the opening and closing
of the door, and Stoddart's subdued and sympathetic voice saying: "Step
this way, please." A heavy, depressed foot or an anxious, hurried
one, according to the mental condition of its owner, obeyed; and the
shutting of the library door meant another patient added to the number
of those who were already listlessly turning over the pages of bound
volumes of _Punch_ or scrutinizing with unseeing eyes the Landseer
engraving over the mantelpiece.
In former days the waiting-room used to be the doctor's dining-room,
but before he married his pretty wife she put her foot down firmly on
this question. He had been explaining the Wimpole Street house and its
arrangements as they stood together in her sunny rose-garden.
"But, Deryck," she had exclaimed in dismay, waving her hands at him,
full of a great mass of freshly gathered roses, "I could not _possibly_
sit down and dine with you in a room where your horrible patients have
sat waiting for hours, leaving behind them the germs of all their
nasty, infectious diseases!"
The doctor caught the little hands, roses and all, and held them
against his breast, looking down into her face with laughing eyes.
"Flower," he said, "my lovely, fragrant Flower! Am I doing a foolish
thing in attempting to transplant you into the soil of busy London
life? Should I not do better if I left you in your rose-garden? Ah,
well, it is too late to ask that now; I can't leave Wimpole Street,
and"--his voice, always deep, suddenly thrilled to a deeper depth; a
tenderness of strong passion quivered in it--"I can't live without
you." He let go her hands and framed her upturned face in his strong,
brown fingers.
"What have you done to me, Flower? I was always self-contained and
self-sufficing, and now I find I can't live without you, Flower--_my_
Flower."
His eyes glowed down into her face. She looked up sweetly at him.
"But, Deryck," she said, "they _do_ leave the germs of all their nasty
infectious--"
The doctor's hands fell suddenly to his sides.
"My dear child," he said, and his voice instantly regained its usual
evenness of tone, "have I not told you that I am a mind specialist? The
people who come to my consulting-room are not, as a rule, suffering
from measles, scarlet fever, or smallpox!"
"Oh, well, they leave their dreadful morbid thoughts behind them; and
that is worse. I could not dine in a room where diseased minds have
sat for hours, brooding. It would give me creeps. And oh, Deryck, you
know that stupid article you read me the other day, about how mental
impressions, when a mind was highly strung or unbalanced, could leave
an impress upon walls or furniture--explaining ghost stories, you
know?--I forget who wrote
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E-text prepared by deaurider, Martin Pettit, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/outaboutlondon00burk
OUT AND ABOUT LONDON
* * * * * *
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
NIGHTS IN LONDON
"Hundreds of books have been written about London, but few are as well
worth reading as this."--_London Times._
"Thomas Burke writes of London as Kipling wrote of India."--_Baltimore
Sun._
"A real book."--_New York Sun._
4th printing, $1.50
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
* * * * * *
OUT AND ABOUT LONDON
by
THOMAS BURKE
Author of "Limehouse Nights"
and "Nights In London"
[Illustration: Logo]
New York
Henry Holt and Company
1919
Copyright, 1919
by
Henry Holt and Company
1916
_Lady, the world is old, and we are young.
The world is old to-night and full of tears
And tumbled dreams, and all its songs are sung,
And echoes rise no more from the tombed years.
Lady, the world is old, but we are young._
_Once only shines the mellow moon so fair;
One speck of Time is Love's Eternity.
Once only can the stars so light your hair,
And the night make your eyes my psaltery.
Lady, the world is old. Love still is young._
_Let us take hand ere the swift moment end.
My heart is but a lamp to light your way.
My song your counsellor, my love your friend,
Your soul the shrine whereat I kneel and pray.
Lady, the world grows old. Let us be young._
_T. B._
CONTENTS
PAGE
ROUND THE TOWN, 1917 3
BACK TO DOCKLAND 30
CHINATOWN REVISITED 40
SOHO CARRIES ON 58
OUT OF TOWN 69
IN SEARCH OF A SHOW 82
VODKA AND VAGABONDS 89
THE KIDS' MAN 113
CROWDED HOURS 123
SATURDAY NIGHT 134
RENDEZVOUS 140
TRAGEDY AND COCKNEYISM 148
MINE EASE AT MINE INN 155
RELICS 168
ATTABOY! 176
OUT AND ABOUT LONDON
ROUND THE TOWN, 1917
It was a lucid, rain-washed morning--one of those rare mornings when
London seems to laugh before you, disclosing her random beauties. In
every park the trees were hung with adolescent tresses, green and white
and yellow, and the sky was busy with scudding clouds. Even the solemn
bricks had caught something of the sudden colour of the day, and London
seemed to toss in its long, winter sleep and to take the heavy breaths
of the awakening sluggard.
I turned from my Fleet Street window to my desk, took my pen, found it
in good working order, and put it down. I was hoping that it would be
damaged, or that the ink had run out; I like to deceive myself with some
excuse for not working. But on this occasion none presented itself save
the call of the streets and the happy aspect of things, and I made these
serve my purpose. With me it is always thus. Let there come the first
sharp taste of Spring in the February air and I am demoralized. Away
with labour. The sun is shining. The sky is bland. There are seven
hundred square miles of London in which Adventure is shyly lurking for
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THE LAW AND THE POOR
BY HIS HONOUR JUDGE
EDWARD ABBOTT PARRY
AUTHOR OF "DOROTHY OSBORNE'S LETTERS," "JUDGMENTS
IN VACATION," "WHAT THE JUDGE SAW," "THE SCARLET
HERRING," "KATAWAMPUS," ETC.
"Laws grind the poor and rich men rule the law."
OLIVER GOLDSMITH: "The Traveller."
LONDON
SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE
1914
TO THE MAN IN THE STREET
THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED,
IN THE PIOUS HOPE THAT
HE WILL TAKE UP HIS JOB
AND DO IT.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
INTRODUCTION ix
REFERENCES xv
I. PAST AND PRESENT 1
II. THE ANCIENTS AND THE DEBTOR 20
III. OF IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT IN ENGLAND 36
IV. HOW THE MACHINE WORKS 58
V. WORKMEN'S COMPENSATION 76
VI. BANKRUPTCY 106
VII. DIVORCE 125
VIII. FLAT-TRAPS AND THEIR VICTIMS 152
IX. POVERTY AND PROCEDURE 172
X. CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 189
XI. THE POLICE COURT 213
XII. LANDLORD AND TENANT 233
XIII. THE TWO PUBLIC HOUSES: I. THE ALEHOUSE 252
XIV. THE TWO PUBLIC HOUSES: II. THE WORKHOUSE 271
XV. REMEDIES OF TO-DAY 285
XVI. REMEDIES OF TO-MORROW 299
INDEX 311
INTRODUCTION
"But, say what you like, our Queen reigns over the greatest nation
that ever existed."
"Which nation?" asked the younger stranger, "for she reigns over two."
The stranger paused; Egremont was silent, but looked inquiringly.
"Yes," resumed the stranger after a moment's interval. "Two nations;
between whom there is no intercourse and no sympathy; who are as
ignorant of each other's habits, thoughts, and feelings, as if they
were dwellers in different zones, or inhabitants of different planets;
who are formed by a different breeding, are fed by a different food,
are ordered by different manners, and are not governed by the same
laws."
"You speak of----," said Egremont, hesitatingly.
"THE RICH AND THE POOR."
BENJAMIN DISRAELI: "Sybil, or The Two Nations."
The rich have many law books written to protect their privileges, but the
poor, who are the greater nation, have but few. Not that I should like to
call this a law book, for two reasons: firstly, it would not be true;
secondly, if it were true, I should not mention it, as I want people to
read it.
You cannot read law books, you only consult them. A law book seeks to set
out the law, the whole law, and nothing but the law on the subject of
which it treats. There are many books on Poor Law, there are hundreds of
volumes about the Poor, and many more about the Law, but the Law and the
Poor is a virgin subject.
It is a wonder that it should be so because it is far more practical and
interesting than either of its component parts.
It is as if poetry had dealt with beans or with bacon and no poet had
hymned the more beautiful associations of beans and bacon. In the same way
the Law and the Poor is a subject worthy of treatment in drama or poetry,
but that that may be successfully done someone must do the rough spade
work of digging the material out of the dirt heaps in which it lies, and
presenting it in a more or less palatable form. When this has been done
the poet or the politician can come along and throw the crude metal into
the metres of sonnets or statutes or any form of glorious letters they
please.
From the very earliest I have taken a keen interest in this subject. I
remember well when I was a schoolboy the profound impression made upon me
by Samuel Plimsoll's agitation to rescue merchant seamen from the horrible
abuses practised by a certain class of shipowner. My father, Serjeant
Parry, was engaged in litigation for Plimsoll, and I heard many things at
first hand of that great reformer's hopes and disappointments.
There were a class of traders known as "ship knackers," who bought up old
unseaworthy vessels and sent them to sea overloaded and over-insured.
Plimsoll, for years, devoted himself to prevent this wickedness. There was
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THE PAPERS AND WRITINGS OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
VOLUME FIVE
CONSTITUTIONAL EDITION
By Abraham Lincoln
Edited by Arthur Brooks Lapsley
THE WRITINGS OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, Volume Five, 1858-1862
TO SYDNEY SPRING, GRAYVILLE, ILL.
SPRINGFIELD, June 19, 1858.
SYDNEY SPRING, Esq.
MY DEAR SIR:--Your letter introducing Mr. Faree was duly received. There
was no opening to nominate him for Superintendent of Public Instruction,
but through him Egypt made a most valuable contribution to the convention.
I think it may be fairly said that he came off the lion of the day--or
rather of the night. Can you not elect him to the Legislature? It seems to
me he would be hard to beat. What objection could be made to him? What is
your Senator Martin saying and doing? What is Webb about?
Please write me. Yours truly,
A. LINCOLN.
TO H. C. WHITNEY.
SPRINGFIELD, June 24, 1858
H. C. WHITNEY, ESQ.
DEAR SIR:--Your letter enclosing the attack of the Times upon me was
received this morning. Give yourself no concern about my voting against
the supplies. Unless you are without faith that a lie can be successfully
contradicted, there is not a word of truth in the charge, and I am just
considering a little as to the best shape to put a contradiction in. Show
this to whomever you please, but do not publish it in the paper.
Your friend as ever,
A. LINCOLN.
TO J. W. SOMERS.
SPRINGFIELD, June 25, 1858.
JAMES W. SOMERS, Esq.
MY DEAR SIR:--Yours of the 22nd, inclosing a draft of two hundred dollars,
was duly received. I have paid it on the judgment, and herewith you
have the receipt. I do not wish to say anything as to who shall be the
Republican candidate for the Legislature in your district, further than
that I have full confidence in Dr. Hull. Have you ever got in the way of
consulting with McKinley in political matters? He is true as steel, and
his judgment is very good. The last I heard from him, he rather thought
Weldon, of De Witt, was our best timber for representative, all things
considered. But you there must settle it among yourselves. It may well
puzzle older heads than yours to understand how, as the Dred Scott
decision holds, Congress can authorize a Territorial Legislature to do
everything else, and cannot authorize them to prohibit slavery. That is
one of the things the court can decide, but can never give an intelligible
reason for.
Yours very truly,
A. LINCOLN.
TO A. CAMPBELL.
SPRINGFIELD, June 28, 1858.
A. CAMPBELL, Esq.
MY DEAR SIR:--In 1856 you gave me authority to draw on you for any sum not
exceeding five hundred dollars. I see clearly that such a privilege would
be more available now than it was then. I am aware that times are tighter
now than they were then. Please write me at all events, and whether you
can now do anything or not I shall continue grateful for the past.
Yours very truly,
A. LINCOLN.
TO J. GILLESPIE.
SPRINGFIELD, July 16, 1858.
HON. JOSEPH GILLESPIE.
MY DEAR SIR:--I write this to say that from the specimens of Douglas
Democracy we occasionally see here from Madison, we learn that they are
making very confident calculation of beating you and your friends for the
lower house, in that county. They offer to bet upon it. Billings and Job,
respectively, have been up here, and were each as I learn, talking largely
about it. If they do so, it can only be done by carrying the Fillmore men
of 1856 very differently from what they seem to [be] going in the other
party. Below is the vote of 1856, in your district:
Counties.
Counties. Buchanan. Fremont. Fillmore.
Bond............ 607 153 659
Madison......... 1451 1111 1658
Montgomery...... 992 162 686
---- ---- ----
3050 1426 3003
By this you will see, if you go through the calculation, that if they get
one quarter of the Fillmore votes, and you three quarters, they will beat
you 125 votes. If they get one fifth, and you four fifths, you beat them
179. In Madison, alone, if our friends get 1000 of the Fillmore votes, and
their opponents the remainder, 658, we win by just two votes.
This shows the whole field, on the basis of the election of 1856.
Whether, since then, any Buchanan, or Fremonters, have shifted ground, and
how the majority of new votes will go, you can judge better than I.
Of course you, on the ground, can better determine your line of tactics
than any one off the ground; but it behooves you to be wide awake and
actively working.
Don't neglect it; and write me at your first leisure. Yours as ever,
A. LINCOLN.
TO JOHN MATHERS, JACKSONVILLE, ILL.
SPRINGFIELD, JULY 20, 1858.
JNO. MATHERS, Esq.
MY DEAR SIR:--Your kind and interesting letter of the 19th was duly
received. Your suggestions as to placing one's self on the offensive
rather than the defensive are certainly correct. That is a point which I
shall not disregard. I spoke here on Saturday night. The speech, not very
well reported, appears in the State journal of this morning. You doubtless
will see it; and I hope that you will perceive in it that I am already
improving. I would mail you a copy now, but have not one [at] hand. I
thank you for your letter and shall be pleased to hear from you again.
Yours very truly,
A. LINCOLN.
TO JOSEPH GILLESPIE.
SPRINGFIELD, JULY 25, 1858.
HON. J. GILLESPIE.
MY DEAR SIR:--Your doleful letter of the 8th was received on my return
from Chicago last night. I do hope you are worse scared than hurt, though
you ought to know best. We must not lose the district. We must make a job
of it, and save it. Lay hold of the proper agencies, and secure all the
Americans you can, at once. I do hope, on closer inspection, you will find
they are not half gone. Make a little test. Run down one of the poll-books
of the Edwardsville precinct, and take the first hundred known American
names. Then quietly ascertain how many of them are actually going for
Douglas. I think you will find less than fifty. But even if you find
fifty, make sure of the other fifty, that is, make sure of all you can, at
all events. We will set other agencies to work which shall compensate for
the loss of a good many Americans. Don't fail to check the stampede at
once. Trumbull, I think, will be with you before long.
There is much he cannot do, and some he can. I have reason to hope there
will be other help of an appropriate kind. Write me again.
Yours as ever,
A. LINCOLN.
TO B. C. COOK.
SPRINGFIELD, Aug. 2, 1858.
Hon. B. C. COOK.
MY DEAR SIR:--I have a letter from a very true and intelligent man
insisting that there is a plan on foot in La Salle and Bureau to run
Douglas Republicans for Congress and for the Legislature in those
counties, if they can only get the encouragement of our folks nominating
pretty extreme abolitionists.
It is thought they will do nothing if our folks nominate men who are not
very obnoxious to the charge of abolitionism. Please have your eye upon
this. Signs are looking pretty fair.
Yours very truly,
A. LINCOLN.
TO HON. J. M. PALMER.
SPRINGFIELD, Aug. 5, 1858.
HON. J. M. PALMER.
DEAR SIR:--Since we parted last evening no new thought has occurred to
[me] on the subject of which we talked most yesterday.
I have concluded, however, to speak at your town on Tuesday, August 31st,
and have promised to have it so appear in the papers of to-morrow. Judge
Trumbull has not yet reached here.
Yours as ever,
A. LINCOLN.
TO ALEXANDER SYMPSON.
SPRINGFIELD, Aug. 11, 1858.
ALEXANDER SYMPSON, Esq.
DEAR SIR:--Yours of the 6th received. If life and health continue I shall
pretty likely be at Augusta on the 25th.
Things look reasonably well. Will tell you more fully when I see you.
Yours truly,
A. LINCOLN.
TO J. O. CUNNINGHAM.
OTTAWA, August 22, 1858.
J. O. CUNNINGHAM, Esq.
MY DEAR SIR:--Yours of the 18th, signed as secretary of the Republican
club, is received. In the matter of making speeches I am a good deal
pressed by invitations from almost all quarters, and while I hope to be
at Urbana some time during the canvass, I cannot yet say when. Can you not
see me at Monticello on the 6th of September?
Douglas and I, for the first time this canvass, crossed swords here
yesterday; the fire flew some, and I am glad to know I am yet alive. There
was a vast concourse of people--more than could get near enough to hear.
Yours as ever,
A. LINCOLN.
ON SLAVERY IN A DEMOCRACY.
August??, 1858
As I would not be a slave, so I would not be a master. This expresses
my idea of democracy. Whatever differs from this, to the extent of the
difference, is no democracy.
A. LINCOLN.
TO B. C. COOK.
SPRINGFIELD, August 2, 1858
HON. B. C. COOK.
MY DEAR SIR:--I have a letter from a very true friend, and intelligent
man, writing that there is a plan on foot in La Salle and Bureau, to run
Douglas Republican for Congress and for the Legislature in those counties,
if they can only get the encouragement of our folks nominating pretty
extreme abolitionists. It is thought they will do nothing if our folks
nominate men who are not very [undecipherable word looks like "obnoxious"]
to the charge of abolitionism. Please have your eye upon this. Signs are
looking pretty fair.
Yours very truly,
A. LINCOLN.
TO DR. WILLIAM FITHIAN, DANVILLE, ILL.
BLOOMINGTON, Sept. 3, 1858
DEAR DOCTOR:--Yours of the 1st was received this morning, as also one from
Mr. Harmon, and one from Hiram Beckwith on the same subject. You will see
by the Journal that I have been appointed to speak at Danville on the 22d
of Sept.,--the day after Douglas speaks there. My recent experience
shows that speaking at the same place the next day after D. is the very
thing,--it is, in fact, a concluding speech on him. Please show this
to Messrs. Harmon and Beckwith; and tell them they must excuse me from
writing separate letters to them.
Yours as ever,
A. LINCOLN
P. S.--Give full notice to all surrounding country. A.L.
FRAGMENT OF SPEECH AT PARIS, ILL.,
SEPT. 8, 1858.
Let us inquire what Judge Douglas really invented when he introduced the
Nebraska Bill? He called it Popular Sovereignty. What does that mean?
It means the sovereignty of the people over their own affairs--in other
words, the right of the people to govern themselves. Did Judge Douglas
invent this? Not quite. The idea of popular sovereignty was floating about
several ages before the author of the Nebraska Bill was born--indeed,
before Columbus set foot on this continent. In the year 1776 it took form
in the noble words which you are all familiar with: "We hold these truths
to be self-evident, that all men are created equal," etc. Was not this the
origin of popular sovereignty as applied to the American people? Here we
are told that governments are instituted among men deriving their
just powers from the consent of the governed. If that is not popular
sovereignty, then I have no conception of the meaning of words. If Judge
Douglas did not invent this kind of popular sovereignty, let us pursue
the inquiry and find out what kind he did invent. Was it the right of
emigrants to Kansas and Nebraska to govern themselves, and a lot of
"<DW65>s," too, if they wanted them? Clearly this was no invention of his
because General Cass put forth the same doctrine in 1848 in his so called
Nicholson letter, six years before Douglas thought of such a thing. Then
what was it that the "Little Giant" invented? It never occurred to General
Cass to call his discovery by the odd name of popular sovereignty. He had
not the face to say that the right of the people to govern "<DW65>s" was
the right of the people to govern themselves. His notions of the fitness
of things were not moulded to the brazenness of calling the right to put
a hundred "<DW65>s" through under the lash in Nebraska a "sacred" right of
self-government. And here I submit to you was Judge Douglas's discovery,
and the whole of it: He discovered that the right to breed and flog
<DW64>s in Nebraska was popular sovereignty.
SPEECH AT CLINTON, ILLINOIS,
SEPTEMBER 8, 1858.
The questions are sometimes asked "What is all this fuss that is being
made about <DW64>s? What does it amount to? And where will it end?" These
questions imply that those who ask them consider the slavery question a
very insignificant matter they think that it amounts to little or nothing
and that those who agitate it are extremely foolish. Now it must be
admitted that if the great question which has caused so much trouble is
insignificant, we are very foolish to have anything to do with it--if it
is of no importance we had better throw it aside and busy ourselves
with something else. But let us inquire a little into this insignificant
matter, as it is called by some, and see if it is not important enough to
demand the close attention of every well-wisher of the Union. In one of
Douglas's recent speeches, I find a reference to one which was made by
me in Springfield some time ago. The judge makes one quotation from that
speech that requires some little notice from me at this time. I regret
that I have not my Springfield speech before me, but the judge has quoted
one particular part of it so often that I think I can recollect it. It
runs I think as follows:
"We are now far into the fifth year since a policy was initiated with
the avowed object and confident promise of putting an end to slavery
agitation. Under the operation of that policy that agitation has not only
not ceased but has constantly augmented. In my opinion it will not cease
until a crisis shall have been reached and passed.
"A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this government
cannot endure permanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the
Union to be dissolved. I do not expect the house to fall, but I do expect
it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the
other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the further spread of
it and place it where the public mind shall rest in the belief that it
is in the course of ultimate extinction; or its advocates will push it
forward till it shall become alike lawful in all the States, old as well
as new, North as well as South."
Judge Douglas makes use of the above quotation, and finds a great deal of
fault with it. He deals unfairly with me, and tries to make the people of
this State believe that I advocated dangerous doctrines in my Springfield
speech. Let us see if that portion of my Springfield speech of which Judge
Douglas complains so bitterly, is as objectionable to others as it is
to him. We are, certainly, far into the fifth year since a policy was
initiated with the avowed object and confident promise of putting an end
to slavery agitation. On the fourth day of January, 1854, Judge Douglas
introduced the Kansas-Nebraska bill. He initiated a new policy, and that
policy, so he says, was to put an end to the agitation of the slavery
question. Whether that was his object or not I will not stop to discuss,
but at all events some kind of a policy was initiated; and what has been
the result? Instead of the quiet and good feeling which were promised us
by the self-styled author of Popular Sovereignty, we have had nothing but
ill-feeling and agitation. According to Judge Douglas, the passage of the
Nebraska bill would tranquilize the whole country--there would be no more
slavery agitation in or out of Congress, and the vexed question would be
left entirely to the people of the Territories. Such was the opinion
of Judge Douglas, and such were the opinions of the leading men of the
Democratic Party. Even as late as the spring of 1856 Mr. Buchanan said, a
short time subsequent to his nomination by the Cincinnati convention, that
the territory of Kansas would be tranquil in less than six weeks. Perhaps
he thought so, but Kansas has not been and is not tranquil, and it may be
a long time before she may be so.
We all know how fierce the agitation was in Congress last winter, and
what a narrow escape Kansas had from being admitted into the Union with a
constitution that was detested by
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Transcribers Notes: Title and Table of Contents added.
* * * * *
THE IDLER MAGAZINE.
AN ILLUSTRATED MONTHLY.
June 1893.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
MEMOIRS OF A FEMALE NIHILIST.
II.--IN PRISON.
BY SOPHIE WASSILIEFF.
THE LEGS OF SISTER URSULA.
BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
"LIONS IN THEIR DENS."
VI.--EMILE ZOLA.
BY V. R. MOONEY.
PEOPLE I HAVE NEVER MET.
BY SCOTT RANKIN.
AN ETHIOPIAN CRICKET MATCH.
BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS.
MY FIRST BOOK.
BY R. M. BALLANTYNE.
TRIALS AND TROUBLES OF AN ARTIST.
BY FRED MILLER.
THE BROTHERS' AGENCY.
BY DO BAHIN.
MY OWN MURDERER.
BY E. J. GOODMAN.
THE IDLERS CLUB.
SHALL WE HAVE A DRAMATIC ACADEMY?
* * * * *
[Illustration: "'No. 16 FOR AN INTERVIEW.'"]
_Memoirs of a Female Nihilist._
BY SOPHIE WASSILIEFF.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. ST. M. FITZ-GERALD.
-----
II.--IN PRISON.
The life of a female prisoner! It is so uniformly dull that I fear to
weary you, friends, in repeating its history; while for me, even now,
outside of some few days only too memorable, the twenty-seven months
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by The Internet Archive)
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
Footnote anchors are denoted by [number], and the footnotes have been
placed at the end of the book. There are only 3 in this book.
A superscript is denoted by ^x or ^{xx}, for example S^T.
A subscript is denoted by _{x}, for example H_{2}O_{2}.
Basic fractions are displayed as ½ ⅓ ¼ etc; other fractions are shown
in the form a-b/c, for example 9/10 or 1-5/16.
Quantities are separated from the unit by a space, for example ‘3 ft.’
or ‘12½ lb.’ Some quantities had a linking - such as ‘12½-lb.’ For
consistency this - has been removed in the etext.
Numerous minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.
SPONS’
HOUSEHOLD MANUAL:
A TREASURY OF
DOMESTIC RECEIPTS
And Guide for
HOME MANAGEMENT.
[Illustration: (Publisher colophon)]
London:
E. & F. N. SPON, 125 STRAND.
New York:
SPON & CHAMBERLAIN, 12 CORTLANDT STREET.
1894
PREFACE.
Time was when the foremost aim and ambition of the English housewife
was to gain a full knowledge of her own duties and of the duties of
her servants. In those days, bread was home-baked, butter home-made,
beer home-brewed, gowns home-sewn, to a far greater extent than now.
With the advance of education, there is much reason to fear that the
essentially domestic part of the training of our daughters is being
more and more neglected. Yet what can be more important for the
comfort and welfare of the household than an appreciation of their
needs and an ability to furnish them. Accomplishments, all very good
in their way, must, to the true housewife, be secondary to all that
concerns the health, the feeding, the clothing, the housing of those
under her care.
And what a range of knowledge this implies,--from sanitary
engineering to patching a garment, from bandaging a wound to
keeping the frost out of water pipes. It may safely be said that
the mistress of a family is called upon to exercise an amount of
skill and learning in her daily routine such as is demanded of few
men, and this too without the benefit of any special education or
preparation; for where is the school or college which includes among
its “subjects” the study of such every-day matters as bad drains, or
the gapes in chickens, or the removal of stains from clothes, or the
bandaging of wounds, or the management of a kitchen range? Indeed,
it is worthy of consideration whether our schools of cookery might
not with very great advantage be supplemented by schools of general
household instruction.
Till this suggestion is carried out, the housewife can only refer
to books and papers for information and advice. The editors of the
present volume have been guided by a determination to make it a _book
of reference_ such as no housewife can afford to be without. Much
of the matter is, of course, not altogether new, but it has been
arranged with great care in a systematic manner, and while the use
of obscure scientific terms has been avoided, the teachings of modern
science have been made the basis of those sections in which science
plays a part.
Much of the information herein contained has appeared before in
lectures, pamphlets, and newspapers, foremost among these last
being the _Queen_, _Field_, _Lancet_, _Scientific American_,
_Pharmaceutical Journal_, _Gardener’s Chronicle_, and the _Bazaar_;
but it has lost nothing by repetition, and has this advantage in
being embodied in a substantial volume that it can always be readily
found when wanted, while every one knows the fate of leaflets and
journals. The sources whence information has been drawn have, it is
believed, in every case been acknowledged, and the editors take this
opportunity of again proclaiming their indebtedness to the very large
number of lecturers and writers whose communications have found a
place within these covers.
THE EDITORS.
CONTENTS.
=Hints for selecting a good House=, pointing out the essential
requirements for a good house as to the Site, Soil, Trees, Aspect,
Construction, and General Arrangement; with instructions for Reducing
Echoes, Water-proofing Damp Walls, Curing Damp Cellars Page 1
=Water Supply.=--Care of Cisterns; Sources of Supply; Pipes;
Pumps; Purification and Filtration of Water 12
=Sanitation.=--What should constitute a good Sanitary Arrangement;
Examples (with illustrations) of Well- and Ill-drained Houses; How
to Test Drains; Ventilating Pipes, &c. 35
=Ventilation and Warming.=--Methods of Ventilating without causing
cold draughts, by various means; Principles of Warming; Health
Questions; Combustion; Open Grates; Open Stoves; Fuel Economisers;
Varieties of Grates; Close-Fire Stoves; Hot-air Furnaces; Gas
Heating; Oil Stoves; Steam Heating; Chemical Heaters; Management
of Flues; and Cure of Smoky Chimneys 55
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A DOMINIE'S LOG
WHAT THIS BOOK IS ABOUT.
"A Dominie's Log" was directly due to the Scottish code of Education, by
which it is forbidden to enter general reflections or opinions in the
official log-book.
Requiring a safety-valve, a young Dominie decides to keep a private
log-book. In it he jots down the troubles and comedies of the day's
work. Sometimes he startles even his own bairns by his
unconventionality.
There is a lot in Education that he does not understand. The one thing,
however, that he does comprehend is the Child Mind, and he possesses the
saving quality of humour.
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
A DOMINIE ABROAD 7s. 6d. net.
A DOMINIE DISMISSED 2s. 6d. net.
A DOMINIE IN DOUBT 2s. 6d. net.
THE BOOMING OF BUNKIE 2s. 6d. net.
CARROTY BROON 2s. 6d. net.
A DOMINIE'S LOG
BY
A. S. NEILL
HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED
YORK STREET ST. JAMES'S S.W.1.
[Illustration: A HERBERT JENKINS' BOOK]
_Printed in Great Britain at the Athenæum Printing Works, Redhill._
AS A BOY I ATTENDED A VILLAGE SCHOOL WHERE THE BAIRNS CHATTERED
AND WERE HAPPY. I TRACE MY LOVE OF FREEDOM TO MY FREE LIFE THERE,
AND
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A TRIP TO PILAWIN
[Illustration: A FOREST SCENE.]
A
TRIP TO PILAWIN
THE DEER-PARK OF
COUNT JOSEPH POTOCKI IN VOLHYNIA
RUSSIA
BY
R. LYDEKKER
LONDON
ROWLAND WARD, LIMITED
“THE JUNGLE,” 167 PICCADILLY, W.
1908
_All rights reserved_
PREFACE
When founding the Pilawin preserve in 1901 my intention was limited
to the breeding of elk, which still have their native haunts not very
far away to the north, but have for many years ceased to inhabit these
forests. No one, to my knowledge, has hitherto attempted to naturalise
these splendid deer in enclosed parks; but the fact that Pilawin forms
a part of their original habitat induced me to try the experiment,
which has thus far proved an unqualified success. The first big game
introduced in Pilawin were thus elk; but soon after their introduction
I had the opportunity when in England of visiting the famous park of
the Duke of Bedford at Woburn, and the wonders there seen enlarged
my ideas with regard to Pilawin. Without any thought of rivalling
the marvels of Woburn, I accordingly decided to add to the Pilawin
park such of the deer of North America and Asia as appeared likely to
thrive in Russia. Consequently I lost no time in obtaining specimens
of American and Siberian wapiti, as well as of Caucasian red deer and
the Manchurian Dybowski’s deer, after which I continued to add other
new inhabitants to the park as opportunity occurred. In 1905, thanks to
the kind intervention of Prince Victor Kotchoubey, who is at the head
of the Imperial estates, I received from H.M. the Emperor of Russia the
valuable gift of three bison from the Imperial preserves of Bielowicz;
while in the following year a pair of their American relations,
imported by Hagenbeck, was added to the herd.
Much work still remains to be done before Pilawin is placed on such a
level that will make it of real interest and importance to the study
of natural history. If possible, I should like to make it the home
of all such species of big game to which the climate and other local
conditions prove suitable. And when established, I want them to live
practically in their wild and natural state, breeding freely, and
lacking any sense of confinement and limitation. I want, in fact, to
see Pilawin, not a zoological garden, but a wild forest, where the
noblest kinds of game may enjoy the largest possible amount of freedom,
and where the sportsman may find the enjoyment of real sport and the
naturalist a great field for study.
Before concluding, I may avail myself of the opportunity of tendering
my best thanks to all who have so kindly assisted me in the enterprise.
My first thanks are due to H.M. the Emperor; and I have next to thank
the Duke of Bedford for the promise of a young American bison, which
I hope will reach Pilawin during the spring. To the Princes A. S.
and F. Radziwill, to Count Constantin Potocki, and to Mr. Zalenski I
am indebted for elk. To Mr. Poklewski-Roziell my acknowledgments are
due for Siberian roe; while I have to thank Madame Ouwaroff for the
valuable gift of a couple of beavers. I have likewise the pleasure
of acknowledging the valuable services of the firm of Hagenbeck of
Hamburg, who carried out to my entire satisfaction all orders regarding
the importation of living animals into Pilawin.
To the author of this little volume I desire to express my deepest
gratitude and warmest thanks; and I am both proud and pleased that
the first description of Pilawin should come from the pen of such a
well-known naturalist as Mr. Lydekker.
Last, but not least, my gratitude is due to the publisher for the
manner in which this account of Pilawin is presented to the world.
JOSEPH POTOCKI.
ANTONINY, _January 1908_.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
A FOREST SCENE _Frontispiece_
THE BIG LAKE IN PILAWIN 3
EUROPEAN BISON IN THE OPEN 5
THE MAIN ENTRANCE OF THE ANTONINY PALACE 9
BEARS KILLED BY THE COUNT 13
WAPITI STAGS TRYING FOR THE MASTERY 15
AMERICAN BISON IN THE SNOW 17
WAPITI IN THE SNOW 19
WAPITI CALLING 23
EUROPEAN AND AMERICAN BISON IN THE PILAWIN PARK
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[Illustration]
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK. BOSTON. CHICAGO
ATLANTA. SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON. BOMBAY. CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
[Illustration: 1. LORD MINTO, VICEROY OF INDIA. _Frontispiece_]
TRANS-HIMALAYA
DISCOVERIES AND ADVENTURES IN TIBET
BY
SVEN HEDIN
WITH 388 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, WATER-COLOUR
SKETCHES, AND DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR
AND 10 MAPS
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1909
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1909,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
* * * * *
Set up and electrotyped. Published December, 1909.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
TO
HIS EXCELLENCY
THE EARL OF MINTO
VICEROY OF INDIA
WITH GRATITUDE AND ADMIRATION
FROM THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
In the first place I desire to pay homage to the memory of my
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Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: The Internet Web Archive
https://archive.org/details/indeadofnightnov02spei
(University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign)
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.
A Novel.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON.
1874.
(_All rights reserved_.)
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.
A Novel.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON.
1874.
(_All rights reserved_.)
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER
I. THE EVE OF THE TRIAL.
II. THE TRIAL.
III. A BOTTLE OF BURGUNDY.
IV. DR. DRAYTON'S SUSPICIONS.
V. HIDE AND SEEK.
VI. FLOWN.
VII. GENERAL ST. GEORGE.
VIII. CUPID AT PINCOTE.
IX. AT THE VILLA PAMPHILI.
X. BACK AGAIN AT PARK NEWTON.
XI. MRS. MCDERMOTT WANTS HER MONEY.
XII. FOOTSTEPS IN THE ROOM.
XIII. THE SQUIRE'S TRIBULATION.
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.
CHAPTER I.
THE EVE OF THE TRIAL.
Within a week of Tom Bristow's first visit to Pincote, and his
introduction to the Copes, father and son, Mr. Cope, junior, found
himself, much to his disgust, fairly on his way to New York. He would
gladly have rebelled against the parental dictum in this matter, if he
had dared to do so; but he knew of old how worse than useless it would
be for him to offer the slightest opposition to his father's wishes.
"You will go and say goodbye to Miss Culpepper as a matter of
course," said Mr. Cope to him. "But don't grow too sentimental over
the parting. Do it in an easy, smiling way, as if you were merely
going out of town for a few days. Don't make any promises--don't talk
about the future--and, above all, don't say a word about marriage. Of
course, you will have to write to her occasionally while you are away.
Just a few lines, you know, to say how you are, and all that. No
mawkish silly love-nonsense, but a sensible, manly letter; and be
wisely reticent as to the date of your return. Very sorry, but you
don't know how much longer your business may detain you--you know the
sort of thing I mean."
When the idea had first entered Mr. Cope's mind that it would be an
excellent thing if he could only succeed in getting his son engaged to
Squire Culpepper's only child, it had not been without an ulterior eye
to the fortune which that young lady would one day call her own that
he had been induced to press forward the scheme to a successful issue.
By marrying Miss Culpepper, his son would be enabled to take up a
position in county society such as he could never hope to attain
either by his own merits, which were of the most moderate kind, or
from his father's money bags alone. But dearly as Mr. Cope loved
position, he loved money still better; and it was no part of his
programme that his son should marry a pauper, even though that pauper
could trace back her pedigree to the Conqueror. And yet, if the squire
went on speculating as madly as he was evidently doing now, it seemed
only too probable that pauperism, or something very much like it,
would be the result, as far as Miss Culpepper was concerned. Instead
of having a fortune of at least twenty thousand pounds, as she ought
to have, would she come in for as many pence when the old man died?
Mr. Cope groaned in spirit as he asked himself the question, and he
became more determined than ever to carry out his policy of waiting
and watching, before allowing the engagement of the young people to
reach a point that would render a subsequent rupture impossible
without open scandal--and scandal was a bugbear of which the banker
stood in extreme dread.
Fortunately, perhaps, for Mr. Cope's view, the feelings of neither
of the people chiefly concerned were very deeply interested. Edward
had obeyed his father in this as in everything else. He had known
Jane from a child, and he liked her because she was clever and
good-tempered. But she by no means realized his ideal of feminine
beauty. She was too slender, too slightly formed to meet with his
approval. "There's not enough of her," was the way he put it to
himself. Miss Moggs, the confectioner's daughter,
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THE INDIAN LILY
AND OTHER STORIES
BY
HERMANN SUDERMANN
TRANSLATED BY
LUDWIG LEWISOHN, M.A.
1911
CONTENTS
THE INDIAN LILY
THE PURPOSE
THE SONG OF DEATH
THE VICTIM
AUTUMN
MERRY FOLK
THEA
THE INDIAN LILY
Chapter I.
It was seven o'clock in the morning when Herr von Niebeldingk opened
the iron gate and stepped into the front garden whose wall of
blossoming bushes separated the house from the street.
The sun of a May morning tinted the greyish walls with gold, and
caused the open window-panes to flash with flame.
The master directed a brief glance at the second story whence floated
the dull sound of the carpet-beater. He thrust the key rapidly into
the keyhole for a desire stirred in him to slip past the porter's
lodge unobserved.
"I seem almost to be--ashamed!" he murmured with a smile of
self-derision as a similar impulse overcame him in front of the
house door.
But John, his man--a dignified person of fifty--had observed his
approach and stood in the opening door. The servant's mutton-chop
whiskers and admirably silvered front-lock contrasted with a repressed
reproach that hovered between his brows. He bowed deeply.
"I was delayed," said Herr von Niebeldingk, in order to say something
and was vexed because this sentence sounded almost like an excuse.
"Do you desire to go to bed, captain, or would you prefer a bath?"
"A bath," the master responded. "I have slept elsewhere."
That sounded almost like another excuse.
"I'm obviously out of practice," he reflected as he entered the
breakfast-room where the silver samovar steamed among the dishes of
old Sevres.
He stepped in front of the mirror and regarded himself--not with the
forbearance of a friend but the keen scrutiny of a critic.
"Yellow, yellow...." He shook his head. "I must apply a curb to my
feelings."
Upon the whole, however, he had reason to be fairly satisfied with
himself. His figure, despite the approach of his fortieth year, had
remained slender and elastic. The sternly chiselled face, surrounded
by a short, half-pointed beard, showed neither flabbiness nor bloat.
It was only around the dark, weary eyes that the experiences of the
past night had laid a net-work of wrinkles and shadows. Ten years
ago pleasure had driven the hair from his temples, but it grew
energetically upon his crown and rose, above his forehead, in a
Mephistophelian curve.
The civilian's costume which often lends retired officers a guise of
excessive spick-and-spanness had gradually combined with an easier
bearing to give his figure a natural elegance. To be sure, six years
had passed since, displeased by a nagging major, he had definitely
hung up the dragoon's coat of blue.
He was wealthy enough to have been able to indulge in the luxury of
that displeasure. In addition his estates demanded more rigorous
management.... From Christmas to late spring he lived in Berlin, where
his older brother occupied one of those positions at court that mean
little enough either to superior or inferior ranks, but which, in a
certain social set dependent upon the court, have an influence of
inestimable value. Without assuming the part of either a social lion
or a patron, he used this influence with sufficient thoroughness to be
popular, even, in certain cases, to be feared, and belonged to that
class of men to whom one always confides one's difficulties, never
one's wife.
John came to announce to his master that the bath was ready. And while
Niebeldingk stretched himself lazily in the tepid water he let his
reflections glide serenely about the delightful occurrence of the
past night.
That occurrence had been due for six months, but opportunity had been
lacking. "I am closely watched and well-known," she had told him, "and
dare not go on secret errands."... Now at last their chance had come
and had been used with clever circumspectness.... Somewhere on the
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+-------------------------------------------------+
|Transcriber's note: |
| |
|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. |
| |
|The Publisher updated some of the text of the |
|Book List by hand, indicating those which were |
|out of print. |
|The original text has been retained. |
| |
+-------------------------------------------------+
ECHOES FROM THE ORIENT
A BROAD OUTLINE OF THEOSOPHICAL DOCTRINES
BY
WILLIAM Q. JUDGE
[OCCULTUS]
SECOND POINT LOMA EDITION
THE THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY
POINT LOMA, CALIFORNIA
1910
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1890,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
BY WILLIAM Q. JUDGE.
[Illustration: Logo]
THE ARYAN THEOSOPHICAL PRESS
Point Loma, California
DEDICATED TO
HELENA PETROVNA BLAVATSKY
WITH LOVE
AND GRATITUDE
BY
THE AUTHOR
TO THE READER
Echoes from the Orient was written by Mr. Judge sixteen years ago (1890)
as a series of papers for a well known periodical. The author wrote
under the name of "_Occultus_," as it was intended that his personality
should be hidden until the series was completed. The value of these
papers as a popular presentation of Theosophical teaching was at once
seen and led to their publication in book form. As Mr. Judge wrote in
his "Antecedent Words" to the earlier edition:
"The
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E-text prepared by David Edwards, Marcia Brooks, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page
images generously made available by the Florida Board of Education,
Division of Colleges and Universities, PALMM Project
(http://palmm.fcla.edu/juv/)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustration.
See 23989-h.htm or 23989-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/3/9/8/23989/23989-h/23989-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/3/9/8/23989/23989-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through the Florida
Board of Education, Division of Colleges and Universities,
PALMM Project (Preservation and Access for American and
British Children's Literature). See
http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00002184&format=jpg
or
http://fulltext10.fcla.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=juv&idno=UF00002184&format=pdf
Transcriber's note:
The table of contents has been added for the reader's convenience.
Punctuation and obvious printer's errors have been corrected.
CALEB IN THE COUNTRY.
A Story for Children.
by
JACOB ABBOTT,
Author of "The Child at Home."
[Illustration: Caleb in the country.]
Halifax:
Milner and Sowerby.
1852.
PREFATORY NOTICE.
The object of this little work, and of others of its family, which may
perhaps follow, is, like that of the "Rollo Books," to furnish useful
and instructive reading to young children. The aim is not so directly to
communicate knowledge, as it is to develop the moral and intellectual
powers,--to cultivate habits of discrimination and correct reasoning,
and to establish sound principles of moral conduct. The "Rollo Books"
embrace principally intellectual and moral discipline; "Caleb," and the
others of its family, will include also _religious_ training, according
to the evangelical views of Christian truth which the author has been
accustomed to entertain, and which he has inculcated in his more serious
writings.
J. A.
CALEB IN THE COUNTRY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I Caleb's Discovery 5
CHAPTER II Trouble 30
CHAPTER III Building the Mole 43
CHAPTER IV A Discussion 54
CHAPTER V The Story of Blind Samuel 61
CHAPTER VI Engineering 68
CHAPTER VII The Sofa 74
CHAPTER VIII The Cart Ride 90
CHAPTER IX The Fire 101
CHAPTER X The Captive 123
CHAPTER XI Mary Anna 129
CHAPTER XII The Walk 148
CHAPTER XIII The Junk 166
POETRY 189
CHAPTER I.
CALEB'S DISCOVERY.
Caleb was a bright-looking, blue-eyed boy, with auburn hair and happy
countenance. And yet he was rather pale and slender. He had been sick.
His father and mother lived in Boston, but now he was spending the
summer at Sandy River country, with his grandmother. His father thought
that if he could run about a few months in the open air, and play among
the rocks and under the trees, he would grow more strong and healthy,
and that his cheeks would not look so pale.
His grandmother made him a blue jacket with bright buttons. _She_ liked
metal buttons, because they would wear longer than covered ones, but
_he_ liked them because they were more beautiful. "Besides," said he, "I
can see my face in them, grandmother."
Little Caleb then went to the window, so as to see his face plainer. He
stood with his back to the window, and held the button so that the light
from the window could shine directly upon it.
"Why grandmother," said Caleb, "I cannot see now so well as I could
before."
"That is because your face is turned away from the light," said she.
"And the button is turned _towards_ the light," said Caleb.
"But when you want to see any thing reflected in a glass, you must have
the light shine upon the thing you want to see reflected, not upon the
glass itself; and I suppose it is so with a bright button."
Then Caleb turned around, so as to have his _face_ towards the light;
and he found that he could then see it reflected very distinctly. His
grandmother went on with her work, and Caleb sat for some time in
silence.
The house that Caleb lived in was in a narrow rocky valley. A stream of
water ran over a sandy bed, in front of the house, and a rugged mountain
towered behind it. Across the stream, too, there was a high, rocky hill,
which was in full view from the parlour window. This hill was covered
with wild evergreens, which clung to their sides, and to the interstices
of the rocks; and mosses, green and brown, in long festoons, hung from
their limbs. Here and there crags and precipices peeped out from among
the foliage, and a grey old cliff towered above, at the summit.
Caleb turned his button round again towards the window, and of course
turned his face _from_ the window. The reflection of
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[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE OPEN ROAD.
Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.
(_Song of the Open Road_).]
A. DAY. WITH
WALT
WHITMAN
BY MAURICE CLARE
[Illustration]
LONDON
HODDER & STOUGHTON
_In the same Series._
_Tennyson._
_Wordsworth._
_Browning._
_Burns._
_Byron._
_Keats._
_E. B. Browning._
_Whittier_.
_Rossetti._
_Shelley._
_Longfellow._
_Scott._
_Coleridge._
_Morris._
A DAY WITH WALT WHITMAN.
About six o'clock on a midsummer morning in 1877, a tall old man awoke,
and was out of bed next moment,--but he moved with a certain slow
leisureliness, as one who will not be hurried. The reason of this
deliberate movement was obvious,--he had to drag a paralysed leg, which
was only gradually recovering its ability and would always be slightly
lame. Seen more closely, he was not by any means so old as at first
sight one might imagine. His snow-white hair and almost-white grey beard
indicated some eighty years: but he was vigorous, erect and rosy: his
clear grey-blue eyes were bright with a "wild-hawk look,"--his face was
firm and without a line. An air of splendid vital force, despite his
infirmity, was diffused from his whole person, and defied the fact of
his actual age, which was two years short of sixty.
Dressing with the same large, leisurely gestures as characterized him in
everything, Walt Whitman was presently attired in his invariable suit of
grey: and by the time the clock touched half-past seven, he was seated
in the verandah, comfortably inhaling the sweet, fresh morning air, and
quite ready for his simple breakfast.
In this old farmhouse, in the New Jersey hamlet of White Horse, Walt
Whitman had been long an inmate. He was recovering by almost
imperceptible degrees from the breakdown induced by over-strain, mental
and physical, which had culminated in intermittent paralytic seizures
for the last eight years, and had left his robust physique a mere wreck
of its former magnificence. Here, in the absolute peace and seclusion of
the little wooden house, with its few fields and fruit-trees, he lived
in lovable companionship with the farmer-folk, man, wife and sons: and
here, the level, faintly undulated country, "neither attractive nor
unattractive," supplied all the needs of his strenuous nature and healed
him with its calm, curative influences. He steeped himself, month by
month, season after season, in "primitive solitudes, winding stream,
recluse and woody banks, sweet-feeding springs and all the charms that
birds, grass, wild-flowers, rabbits and squirrels, old oaks,
walnut-trees, etc., can bring." Simple fare, these charms might seem to
a townsman: to the "good grey poet" they were not only sufficient but
inexhaustible. Dearly as he loved the "swarming and tumultuous" life of
cities, the tops of Broadway omnibuses, the Brooklyn ferry-boats, the
eternal panorama of the multitude, his true delight was in the vast
expanses, the illimitable spaces, the very earth from which,
Antaeus-like, he drew his vital strength. Out here, in the country
solitudes, alone could he observe how--in a way undreamed of by the
street-dweller,--
Ever upon this stage
Is acted God's calm annual drama,
Gorgeous processions, songs of birds,
Sunrise that fullest feeds and freshens most the soul,
The heaving sea, the waves upon the shore, the musical, strong waves,
The woods, the stalwart trees, the slender, tapering trees,
The lilliput countless armies of the grass.
(_The Return of the Heroes._)
It may be doubted whether any other poet who has been inspired by
outdoor Nature, has approximated so closely as Whitman to the "shows of
all variety," which nature presents,--from the infinite gradations of
microscopic detail, to the enormous range and sweep of dim vastitudes.
His poetry has a huge elemental quality, akin to that of winds and
clouds and seas. "To speak with the perfect rectitude and insouciance of
the movements of animals, and the unimpeachableness of the sentiment of
trees in the
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_UNIFORM VOLUMES_
Dickens' London
BY FRANCIS MILTOUN
Library 12mo, cloth, gilt top $2.00
The Same, 3/4 levant morocco 5.00
Milton's England
BY LUCIA AMES MEAD
Library 12mo, cloth, gilt top 2.00
The Same, 3/4 levant morocco 5.00
Dumas' Paris
BY FRANCIS MILTOUN
Library 12mo, cloth, gilt top _net_ 1.60
_postpaid_ 1.75
The Same, 3/4 levant morocco _net_ 4.00
_postpaid_ 4.15
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
New England Building
Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: CHARLES DICKENS]
Dickens'
London
By
Francis Miltoun
_Author of "Dumas' Paris," "Cathedrals of
France," "Rambles in Normandy," "Castles
and Chateaux of Old Touraine," etc._
Illustrated
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
BOSTON PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1903_
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
Fourth Impression, April, 1908
Fifth Impression, April, 1910
_COLONIAL PRESS_
_Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co._
_Boston, U. S. A._
_All sublunary things of death partake!_
_What alteration does a cent'ry make!_
_Kings and Comedians all are mortal found,_
_Caesar and Pinkethman are underground._
_What's not destroyed by time's devouring hand?_
_Where's Troy, and where's the Maypole in the Strand?_
_Pease, cabbages, and turnips once grew where_
_Now stands New Bond Street and a newer square;_
_Such piles of buildings now rise up and down,_
_London itself seems going out of town._
JAMES BRAMSTON, _The Art of Politicks_.
The attempt is herein made to present in an informal manner such facts of
historical, topographical, and literary moment as surrounded the
localities especially identified with the life and work of Charles Dickens
in the city of London, with naturally a not infrequent reference to such
scenes and incidents as he was wont to incorporate in the results of his
literary labours; believing that there are a considerable number of
persons, travellers, lovers of Dickens, enthusiasts _et als._, who might
be glad of a work which should present within a single pair of covers a
resume of the facts concerning the subject matter indicated by the title
of this book; to remind them in a way of what already exists to-day of the
London Dickens knew, as well as of the changes which have taken place
since the novelist's time.
To all such, then, the present work is offered, not necessarily as the
last word or even as an exhaustive resume, knowing full well the futility
for any chronicler to attempt to do such a subject full justice within the
confines of a moderate sized volume, where so many correlated facts of
history and side lights of contemporary information are thrown upon the
screen. The most that can be claimed is that every effort has been made to
present a truthful, correct, and not unduly sentimental account of the
sights and scenes of London connected with the life of Charles Dickens.
In Praise of London
"The inhabitants of St. James', notwithstanding they live under the same
laws and speak the same language, are as a people distinct from those who
live in the 'City.'"
_Addison._
"If you wish to have a just notion of the magnitude of the City you must
not be satisfied with its streets and squares, but must survey the
innumerable little lanes and courts."
_Johnson._
"I have often amused myself with thinking how different a place London is
to different people."
_Boswell._
"I had rather be Countess of Puddle-Dock (in London) than Queen of
Sussex."
_Shadwell._
"London... a place where next-door neighbours do not know one
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of California libraries)
TRUE STORIES OF THE GREAT WAR
TRUE STORIES
OF THE
GREAT WAR
TALES OF ADVENTURE--HEROIC DEEDS--EXPLOITS
TOLD BY THE SOLDIERS, OFFICERS, NURSES,
DIPLOMATS, EYE WITNESSES
_Collected in Six Volumes_
_From Official and Authoritative Sources_
(_See Introductory to Volume I_)
VOLUME IV
Editor-in-Chief
FRANCIS TREVELYAN MILLER (Litt. D., LL.D.)
Editor of The Search-Light Library
1917
REVIEW OF REVIEWS COMPANY
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1917, by
REVIEW OF REVIEWS COMPANY
CONTENTS
The following stories have been selected for VOLUME IV by the Board
of Editors, according to the plan outlined in "Introductory" to
Volume I for collecting from all sources the "Best Stories of the
War." This group includes personal experiences of Soldiers at the
front, Submarine Officers, Aviators, Prisoners, Ambulance Drivers,
Red Cross Nurses, Priests, Spies, and American Eye-Witnesses. They
have been collected from twenty-eight of the most authentic sources
in Europe and America and include 134 adventures and episodes. Full
credit is given in every instance to the original source.
VOLUME IV--TWENTY-EIGHT STORY-TELLERS--134 EPISODES
"WHEN THE PRUSSIANS CAME TO POLAND"--A TRAGEDY 1
EXPERIENCES OF AN AMERICAN
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PASSING OF THE THIRD FLOOR BACK
By Jerome K. Jerome
Author of "Paul Kelver," "Three Men in a Boat," etc., etc.
New York
Dodd, Mead & Company
1909
Copyright, 1904, By Jerome K. Jerome
Copyright, 1908, By Dodd, Mead & Company
Published, September, 1908
The neighbourhood of Bloomsbury Square towards four o'clock of a
November afternoon is not so crowded as to secure to the stranger, of
appearance anything out of the common, immunity from observation. Tibb's
boy, screaming at the top of his voice that _she_ was his honey, stopped
suddenly, stepped backwards on to the toes of a voluble young lady
wheeling a perambulator, and remained deaf, apparently, to the somewhat
personal remarks of the voluble young lady. Not until he had reached
the next corner--and then more as a soliloquy than as information to the
street--did Tibb's boy recover sufficient interest in his own affairs to
remark that _he_ was her bee. The voluble young lady herself, following
some half-a-dozen yards behind, forgot her wrongs in contemplation
of the stranger's back. There was this that was peculiar about the
stranger's back: that instead of being flat it presented a decided
curve. "It ain't a 'ump, and it don't look like kervitcher of the
spine," observed the voluble young lady to herself. "Blimy if I don't
believe 'e's taking 'ome 'is washing up his back."
The constable at the corner, trying to seem busy doing nothing, noticed
the stranger's approach with gathering interest. "That's an odd sort of
a walk of yours, young man," thought the constable. "You take care you
don't fall down and tumble over yourself."
"Thought he was a young man," murmured the constable, the stranger
having passed him. "He had a young face right enough."
The daylight was fading. The stranger, finding it impossible to read the
name of the street upon the corner house, turned back.
"Why, 'tis a young man," the constable told himself; "a mere boy."
"I beg your pardon," said the stranger; "but would you mind telling me
my way to Bloomsbury Square."
"This is Bloomsbury Square," explained the constable; "leastways round
the corner is. What number might you be wanting?"
The stranger took from the ticket pocket of his tightly buttoned
overcoat a piece of paper, unfolded it and read it out: "Mrs.
Pennycherry. Number Forty-eight."
"Round to the left," instructed him the constable; "fourth house. Been
recommended there?"
"By--by a friend," replied the stranger. "Thank you very much."
"Ah," muttered the constable to himself; "guess you won't be calling him
that by the end of the week, young--"
"Funny," added the constable, gazing after the retreating figure of the
stranger. "Seen plenty of the other sex as looked young behind and old
in front. This cove looks young in front and old behind. Guess he'll
look old all round if he stops long at mother Pennycherry's: stingy old
cat."
Constables whose beat included Bloomsbury Square had their reasons for
not liking Mrs. Pennycherry. Indeed it might have been difficult to
discover any human being with reasons for liking that sharp-featured
lady. Maybe the keeping of second-rate boarding houses in the
neighbourhood of Bloomsbury does not tend to develop the virtues of
generosity and amiability.
Meanwhile the stranger, proceeding upon his way, had rung the bell of
Number Forty-eight. Mrs. Pennycherry, peeping from the area and catching
a glimpse, above the railings, of a handsome if somewhat effeminate
masculine face, hastened to readjust her widow's cap before the
looking-glass while directing Mary Jane to show the stranger, should he
prove a problematical boarder, into the dining-room, and to light the
gas.
"And don't stop gossiping, and don't you take it upon yourself to answer
questions. Say I'll be up in a minute," were Mrs. Pennycherry's further
instructions, "and mind you hide your hands as much as you can."
***
"What are you grinning at?" demanded Mrs. Pennycherry, a
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THE
SALEM WITCHCRAFT,
The Planchette Mystery,
AND
MODERN SPIRITUALISM,
WITH
DR. DODDRIDGE'S DREAM.
HISTORY
OF
SALEM WITCHCRAFT:
A REVIEW
OF
CHARLES W. UPHAM'S GREAT WORK.
FROM THE "EDINBURGH REVIEW."
With Notes,
BY THE EDITOR OF "THE PHRENOLOGICAL JOURNAL."
NEW YORK:
FOWLER & WELLS CO., PUBLISHERS,
753 BROADWAY.
1886.
BIGOTRY. Obstinate or blind attachment to a particular creed;
unreasonable zeal or warmth in favor of a party, sect, or opinion;
excessive prejudice. The practice or tenet of a bigot.
PREJUDICE. An opinion or decision of mind, formed without due
examination of the facts or arguments which are necessary to a just and
impartial determination. A previous bent or inclination of mind for or
against any person or thing. Injury or wrong of any kind; as to act to
the _prejudice_ of another.
SUPERSTITION. Excessive exactness or rigor in religious opinions or
practice; excess or extravagance in religion; the doing of things not
required by God, or abstaining from things not forbidden; or the
belief of what is absurd, or belief without evidence. False religion;
false worship. Rite or practice proceeding from excess of scruples in
religion. Excessive nicety; scrupulous exactness. Belief in the direct
agency of superior powers in certain extraordinary or singular events,
or in omens and prognostics.--_Webster._
INTRODUCTION.
The object in reprinting this most interesting review is simply to show
the progress made in moral, intellectual, and physical science. The
reader will go back with us to a time--not very remote--when nothing was
known of Phrenology and Psychology; when men and women were persecuted,
and even put to death, through the baldest ignorance and the most
pitiable superstition. If we were to go back still farther, to the Holy
Wars, we should find cities and nations drenched in human blood through
religious bigotry and intolerance. Let us thank God that our lot is
cast in a more fortunate age, when the light of revelation, rightly
interpreted by the aid of SCIENCE, points to the Source of all
knowledge, all truth, all light.
When we know more of Anatomy, Physiology, Physiognomy, and the Natural
Sciences generally, there will be a spirit of broader liberality,
religious tolerance, and individual freedom. Then all men will hold
themselves accountable to God, rather than to popes, priests, or
parsons. Our progenitors lived in a time that tried men's souls, as
the following lucid review most painfully shows.
S. R. W.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
The Place 7
The Salemite of Forty Years Ago 8
How the Subject was opened 9
Careful Historiography 10
The Actors in the Tragedy 12
Philosophy of the Delusion 12
Character of the Early Settlement 13
First Causes 15
Death of the Patriarch 16
Growth of Witchcraft 17
Trouble in the Church 18
Rev. Mr. Burroughs 19
Deodat Lawson 20
Parris--a Malignant 20
A Protean Devil 21
State of Physiology 22
William Penn as a Precedent 22
Phenomena of Witchcraft 23
Parris and his Circle 25
The Inquisitions--Sarah Good 26
A Child Witch 27
The Towne Sisters 28
Depositions of Parris and his Tools 31
Goody Nurse's Excommunication 35
Mary Easty 36
Mrs. Cloyse 38
The Proctor Family 40
The Jacobs Family 41
Giles and Martha Corey 42
Decline of the Delusion 44
The Physio-Psychological Causes of the Trouble 45
The Last of Parris 47
"One of the Afflicted"--Her Confession 49
The Transition 50
The Fetish Theory Then and Now 51
The Views of Modern Investigators 53
Importance of the Subject 55
CONTENTS OF THE PLANCHETTE MYSTERY.
PAGE.
What Planchette is and does (with review of Facts and
Phenomena) 63
The Press on Planchette (with further details of Phenomena) 67
Theory First--That the Board is moved by the hands that rest 70
upon it
Theory Second--"It is Electricity
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FAITHFUL MARGARET.
_A Novel._
ROBERTSON'S CHEAP SERIES
POPULAR READING AT POPULAR PRICES.
BY ANNIE ASHMORE.
"Vengeance for any cruel wrong
Bringeth a dark renown;
But fadeless wreaths to her belong
Who calmly bears it down;
Who, scorning every mean redress,
Each recreant art abjures,
Safe in the noble consciousness,
_She conquers who endures_."
TORONTO:
J. ROSS ROBERTSON,
CORNER KING AND BAY STREETS.
1880.
FAITHFUL MARGARET.
CHAPTER I.
A DYING WOMAN'S COMMAND.
She was dying--good old Ethel Brand, the mistress for half a century of
the hoary castle which stood like an ancient cathedral in the midst of
the noble estate in Surrey, Seven-Oak Waaste.
No need now of these whispering attendants, and that anxious little
physician; she would not trouble them more. No need for these grim
medicine vials, marshaled upon the little table near her couch; she was
past mortal needs or mortal help; her face, set in cold repose, seemed
glistening with supernal light, while waiting for the fatal kiss of
death.
And over her bent a woman, breathless, pulseless, motionless, as if
carved from stone, listening, with straining ear, for each slow,
rattling breath; watching, with great, glistening eyes, for each
darkening shadow over the noble face--Margaret Walsingham.
No high-born dame was she; no fortunate next-of-kin, watching with
decorous lament for the moment of emancipation from her weary wait for a
dead woman's shoes. Only Mrs. Brand's poor companion, Margaret
Walsingham.
Four years had she ministered to the whims, the caprices, the erratic
impulses of that most erratic of all creations, an eccentric old woman;
and exalting the good which she found, and pardoning the frailties she
could not blind her eyes to, her presence had become a sweet necessity
to the world-weary dowager, who repaid it by unceasing exactions and
doting outbursts of gratitude; and there had been much love between
these two.
Paler waxed the high patrician face, darker grew the violet circles
beneath her heavy eyes.
Margaret clasped her hands convulsively.
"Will she go before seven?" whispered she.
Old Dr. Gay stooped low and listened to the labored inspiration.
"Going--going fast," he said, with faltering lips.
A wail burst from the crowd of servants standing by the door; sobs and
tears attested to the love they had borne their dying mistress.
"Hush!" whispered Margaret. "Do not awake her."
"They'll never wake her more," said Dr. Gay, mournfully.
She turned at that with terror in her eyes; she laid a small, strong
hand upon the doctor's arm and clung to it convulsively.
"She must live to see St. Udo Brand," said she, in a low, thrilling
voice. "She must, I tell you--it is her dearest, her last wish--it is my
most earnest prayer. Surely you will not let her die before that wish is
fulfilled?"
She gazed with passionate entreaty in the little doctor's face, and her
voice rose into a wail at the last words. He regarded her with helpless
sympathy and shook his head.
"She can't live half an hour longer," said Dr. Gay. "She'll not see St.
Udo Brand."
A fierce shudder seized Margaret Walsingham from head to foot. The blood
forsook her lips, the light her eyes--she stood silent, the picture of
heart-sick despair.
She had often appealed to Dr. Gay's admiration by her faithfulness, her
kindness, her timidly masked self-sacrifices; she appealed straight to
his heart now by her patient suffering, unconscious as he was of its
cause.
"I will do what I can to keep up her strength," he said, approaching the
bed to gaze anxiously again at the slumberer. "I will try another
stimulant, if I can only get her to swallow it. Perhaps the London
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The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898
Explorations by early navigators, descriptions of the islands and
their peoples, their history and records of the catholic missions,
as related in contemporaneous books and manuscripts, showing the
political, economic, commercial and religious conditions of those
islands from their earliest relations with European nations to the
close of the nineteenth century,
Volume XVIII, 1617-1620
Edited and annotated by Emma Helen Blair and James Alexander Robertson
with historical introduction and additional notes by Edward Gaylord
Bourne.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME XVIII
Preface 9
Documents of 1617-1618
Letter to Felipe III. Andres de Alcaraz;
Manila, August 10, 1617. 31
Trade between Nueva Espana and the Far
East. [Unsigned and undated; _ca._ 1617].
57
Events in the Filipinas Islands, 1617-18
[Unsigned; Manila], June, 1618. 65
Description of the Philippinas
Islands. [Unsigned]; Manila, 1618. 93
Dutch factories and posts in the Orient. [Pedro
de Heredia]; [1618?]. 107
Memorial regarding Manila hospital. [Unsigned];
Manila, 1618. 112
Letter to Felipe III. Alonso Fajardo de Tenza;
Cavite, August 10, 1618. 116
Letters to Fajardo. Felipe III; Madrid,
December 19, 1618. 150
Filipinas menaced by Dutch. Joan de Ribera,
S.J.; Manila, December 20, 1618. 161
Documents of 1619-1620
Philippine ships and shipbuilding. Sebastian
de Pineda; [Mexico? 1619]. 169
Royal decree regarding religious expelled
from their orders. Felipe III; Madrid,
February 19, 1619. 189
Proposal to destroy Macao. Diego Aduarte, O.P.;
[Madrid? 1619]. 194
Relation of events in the Filipinas Islands,
1618-19. [Unsigned]; Manila, July 12, 1619.
204
Letter to Felipe III. Pedro de Arce; Manila,
July 30, 1619. 235
Letter to Felipe III. Alonso Fajardo de Tenza;
Manila, August 10, 1619. 247
Grant to seminary of Santa Potenciana. Juan
Onez, and others; Manila, 1617-19. 282
Reforms needed in Filipinas (to be
concluded). Hernando de los Rios Coronel;
[Madrid?], 1619-20. 289
Bibliographical Data. 345
ILLUSTRATIONS
Plan of the city of Goa and its environs; photographic
facsimile of engraving in Bellin's _Petit atlas maritime_
([Paris], 1764), no. 29, from copy in library of Wisconsin
Historical Society. 199
View of the city of Manila; photographic facsimile of
engraving in Spilbergen and Le Maire's _Speculum orientalis
occidentalisque Indiae navigationum_ (French edition, 1621),
no. 18, facing p. 86, from copy in Library of Congress.
225
Autograph signature of Fernando de Los Rios; photographic
facsimile from original MS. in Archivo general de Indias,
Sevilla. 343
PREFACE
The scope of the present volume extends from 1617 to 1620. The islands
are still ravaged at intervals by the Moro pirates from the southern
part of the archipelago. Even worse are the losses to the commerce of
the islands inflicted by the Dutch; their ships infest the seas about
Luzon, and those of the Moluccas, in which region they are steadily and
even rapidly gaining foothold, and securing the best commerce of those
lands. Corruption in the management of the Spanish interests in the
Spice Islands renders them an expensive and embarrassing possession;
and the new governor, Fajardo, finds the same influence at work in
the Spanish colony itself, especially among the auditors and other
high officials. The colonial treasury is, as usual, short of funds,
and can do little to defend the islands from the Dutch; the Madrid
government is unwilling to spend much more on the Philippines, although
beset with importunities to save that colony, and Spanish commerce
generally, from the insolent Dutch. The usual building of ships in the
islands has so harrassed and exhausted the unfortunate natives that
it is necessary to have ships built for the Philippines in India and
other countries where timber and labor are more abundant. The trade of
the colony with China is the object of much discussion, and proposals
are again made to restrict it, as
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BLUE-STOCKING HALL.
J. D. NICHOLS, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET.
BLUE-STOCKING HALL.
“From woman’s eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world.”
LOVE’S LABOUR LOST.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1827.
BLUE-STOCKING HALL.
LETTER XXVII.
FREDERICK TO EMILY DOUGLAS.
This, my dearest Emily, is the last letter which you will receive from
Frederick in London; and though time speeds on rapid wing in this focus
of attraction, I reckon the days with impatience till the heath-clad
tops of our dear mountains break upon my view. To travel, and see new
men and manners, would be too delightful, if mother and sisters were
with me, but, unfashionable as the confession may be, I own to the
_weakness_ of loving mine enough to make me wish to be always near
them. In a few days we are to set out, and Arthur starts for France,
when we turn our faces towards Glenalta. I fear that my uncle is not
gaining ground; there is a consultation every day, but it seems to me
as if many of these great doctors make up in _mannerism_ of one sort
or other what they want in penetration. One assumes a rough tone, and
thinks it for his advantage to act the
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CHARLES O'MALLEY
The Irish Dragoon
BY CHARLES LEVER.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
[Illustration: THE SUNK FENCE]
TO THE
MOST NOBLE THE MARQUESS OF DOURO, M.P., D.C.L., ETC., ETC.
MY DEAR LORD,--
The imperfect attempt to picture forth some scenes of the most
brilliant period of my country's history might naturally suggest their
dedication to the son of him who gave that era its glory. I feel,
however, in the weakness of the effort, the presumption of such a
thought, and would simply ask of you to accept these volumes as a
souvenir of many delightful hours passed long since in your society,
and a testimony of the deep pride with which I regard the honor of your
friendship.
Believe me, my dear Lord, with every respect and esteem,
Yours, most sincerely,
THE AUTHOR.
BRUSSELS, November, 1841.
A WORD OF EXPLANATION.
KIND PUBLIC,--
Having so lately taken my leave of the stage, in a farewell benefit, it is
but fitting that I should explain the circumstances which once more bring
me before you,--that I may not appear intrusive, where I have met with but
too much indulgence.
A blushing _debutante_--_entre nous_, the most impudent Irishman that ever
swaggered down Sackville Street--has requested me to present him to
your acquaintance. He has every ambition to be a favorite with you; but
says--God forgive him--he is too bashful for the foot-lights.
He has remarked---as, doubt
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Bringing up the Boy
[Illustration]
“GIVE HIM THE LIGHT
TELL HIM THE TRUTH
SHOW HIM THE WAY!”
Bringing up the Boy
A Message to Fathers and Mothers
from a Boy of Yesterday concerning
the Men of To-morrow
By
CARL WERNER
[Illustration]
New York
Dodd, Mead and Company
1913
Copyright, 1911, by
THE BUTTERICK PUBLISHING COMPANY
Copyright, 1913, by
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
Published, March, 1913
TO
Mary Morris Werner
A GOOD MOTHER
WHOSE FINE SYMPATHY, KEEN PERCEPTION,
AND DEVOUT SENSE OF DUTY ARE MOULDING
THE CHARACTER OF
AN AMERICAN BOY
THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
FOREWORD xi
I FROM BABY TO BOY 3
II THE SIMPLICITY OF DISCIPLINE 17
III AS THE TWIG IS BENT 33
IV A TALK AT CHRISTMAS TIME 48
V THE DYNASTY OF THE DIME NOVEL 63
VI THE SIN OF SEX SECRECY 77
VII THE WEED AND THE WINECUP 91
VIII OUT INTO THE WORLD 104
There; my blessing with thee!
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch’d, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
Bear’t that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: To thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
--Polonius to his son.
_Hamlet_, Act I, Scene 3.
FOREWORD
A good portion of the material in this volume was printed in serial
form in _The Delineator_, to whose editors and publishers I am deeply
indebted for the sympathy and encouragement that were necessary to
bring my ideas on boy training into the circle of general parenthood.
As a result of the publicity gained through the medium of that
magazine’s wide circulation, many letters were received by the magazine
and by myself; and in this mass of correspondence there was a distinct
note of appeal for the publication of the essays between covers. It was
quite without any knowledge of this demand, however, that the present
publishers, acting independently, became interested in the series, and
decided, after due consideration, to issue it in book form.
It was surprising that of the many letters received while these
articles were appearing serially, only a small minority of the writers
disagreed with my views, and those few protests were confined to one
or two subjects. So far as could be reasonably expected of one whose
time is much occupied in pursuing a livelihood, I replied to all such
communications. If in some instances I failed, the omission was not
because I was lacking in a keen appreciation of the interest, the
sympathy, the suggestions and the criticisms thus expressed. As to
those who disagreed with me, I would like to repeat here what I have
said to them in personal replies: They may be right, and I wrong.
This much only, I know--That Providence is kind in that He permits
me to retain a distinct picture of the boy’s cosmos; that as a man
and a father I can still see--and feel--from the boy’s viewpoint; and
that, preserving that visuality, I have tried, with the best judgment
and most constant effort of which I am capable, to employ it for the
greatest good. Everything that I have written about boy training is
solidly fixed on this foundation; and everything that I have written
has been or is being employed, to the very letter, in my stewardship
of one who is infinitely more precious to me than life itself--my
own boy. If I have erred, may God forgive me; but on this score my
conscience is as clear as a crystal pool, for so far as human vision
penetrates not one duty has been left undone and not one endeavour has
gone astray. And happily, though I say it with a prayer on my lips and
humility in my heart, every passing year adds its living testimony to
the principles which I advocate and for which
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THE DALTONS;
OR,
THREE ROADS IN LIFE.
By Charles Lever.
With Illustrations By Phiz.
In Two Volumes: Volume Two.
Boston:
Little, Brown, And Company.
1904.
THE DALTONS; or, THREE ROADS IN LIFE
CHAPTER I. A MORNING OF MISADVENTURES.
"Well, my Lord, are we to pass the day here," said Count Trouville,
the second of the opposite party, as Norwood returned from a fruitless
search of George Onslow, "or are we to understand that this is the
English mode of settling such matters?"
"I am perfectly ready, Monsieur le Comte, to prove the contrary, so far
as my own poor abilities extend," said Norwood, calmly.
"But your friend has disappeared, sir. You are left alone here."
"Which is, perhaps, the reason of your having dared to insult me,"
rejoined the other; "that being, perhaps, the French custom in such
affairs."
"Come, come, gentlemen," interposed an old cavalry officer, who acted
as second friend to Guilmard, "you must both see that all discussion of
this kind is irregular and unseemly. We have come here this morning for
one specific purpose,----to obtain reparation for a great injury. The
gentleman who should have offered us the amende has suddenly withdrawn
himself. I offer no opinion on the fact that he came out accompanied by
only one friend; we might, perhaps, have devised means to obviate this
difficulty. For his own absence we have no remedy. I would therefore ask
what you have to propose to us in this emergency?"
"A little patience,--nothing more. My friend must have lost his way;
some accident or other has detained him, and I expect to see him here
every instant."
"Shall we say half an hour longer, my Lord?" rejoined the other, taking
out his watch. "That will bring us to eight o'clock."
"Which, considering that our time was named'sharp six,'" interposed
Trouville, "is a very reasonable 'grace.'"
"Your expression is an impertinence, Monsieur," said Norwood, fiercely.
"And yet I don't intend to apologize for it," said the other, smiling.
"I'm glad of it, sir. It's the only thing you have said to-day with
either good sense or spirit."
"Enough, quite enough, my Lord," replied the Frenchman, gayly. "'Dans la
bonne societe, on ne dit jamais de trop.' Where shall it be, and when?"
"Here, and now," said Norwood, "if I can only find any one who will act
for me."
"Pray, my Lord, don't go in search of him," said Trouville, "or we shall
despair of seeing you here again."
"I will give a bail for my reappearance, sir, that you cannot doubt of,"
cried Norwood, advancing towards the other with his cane elevated.
A perfect burst of horror broke from the Frenchmen at this threat,
and three or four immediately threw themselves between the contending
parties.
"But for this, my Lord," said the old officer, "I should have offered
you my services."
"And I should have declined them, sir," said Norwood, promptly. "The
first peasant I meet with will suffice;" and, so saying, he hurried
from the spot, his heart almost bursting with passion. With many a
malediction of George--with curses deep and cutting on every one whose
misconduct had served to place him in his present position--he took his
way towards the high-road.
"What could have happened?" muttered he; "what confounded fit of
poltroonery has seized him? a fellow that never wanted pluck in his
life! Is it possible that he can have failed now? And this to occur at
the very moment they are beggared! Had they been rich, as they were a
few months back, I'd have made the thing pay. Ay, by Jove! I 'd have
'coined my blood,' as the fellow says in the play, and written a
swingeing check with red ink! And now I have had a bad quarrel, and
nothing to come of it! And so to walk the high-roads in search of some
one who can load a pistol."
A stray peasant or two, jogging along to Florence, a postilion with
return horses, a shabbily dressed curate, or a friar with a sack behind
him, were all that he saw for miles of distance, and he returned
once more to interrogate
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[Illustration: "The Toad Woman stopped fanning and looked at her." Page
125.]
ADVENTURES
IN
Shadow-Land.
CONTAINING
Eva's Adventures in Shadow-Land.
By MARY D. NAUMAN.
AND
The Merman and The Figure-Head.
By CLARA F. GUERNSEY.
TWO VOLUMES IN ONE.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS._
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1874.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Lippincott's Press,
Philadelphia.
EVA'S ADVENTURES
IN
SHADOW-LAND.
TO
MY FRIEND
E. W.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
What Eva saw in the Pond 9
CHAPTER II.
Eva's First Adventure 15
CHAPTER III.
The Gift of the Fountain 23
CHAPTER IV.
The First Moonrise 30
CHAPTER V.
What Aster was 36
CHAPTER VI.
The Beginning of the Search 45
CHAPTER VII.
Aster's Misfortunes 52
CHAPTER VIII.
What Aster did 63
CHAPTER IX.
The Door in the Wall 73
CHAPTER X.
The Valley of Rest 80
CHAPTER XI.
The Magic Boat 92
CHAPTER XII.
Down the Brook 104
CHAPTER XIII.
The Enchanted River 119
CHAPTER XIV.
The Green Frog 130
CHAPTER XV.
In the Grotto 145
CHAPTER XVI.
Aster's Story 151
CHAPTER XVII.
The Last of Shadow-Land 162
EVA'S ADVENTURES
IN SHADOW-LAND.
CHAPTER I.
_WHAT EVA SAW IN THE POND._
She had been reading fairy-tales, after her lessons were done, all the
morning; and now that dinner was over, her father gone to his office,
the baby asleep, and her mother sitting quietly sewing in the cool
parlor, Eva thought that she would go down across the field to the old
mill-pond; and sit in the grass, and make a fairy-tale for herself.
There was nothing that Eva liked better than to go and sit in the tall
grass; grass so tall that when the child, in her white dress, looped on
her plump white shoulders with blue ribbons, her bright golden curls
brushed back from her fair brow, and her blue eyes sparkling, sat down
in it, you could not see her until you were near her, and then it was
just as if you had found a picture of a little girl in a frame, or
rather a nest of soft, green grass.
All through this tall, wavy grass, down to the very edge of the pond,
grew many flowers,--violets, and buttercups, and dandelions, like little
golden suns. And as Eva sat there in the grass, she filled her lap with
the purple and yellow flowers; and all around her the bees buzzed as
though they wished to light upon the flowers in her lap; on which, at
last,--so quietly did she sit,--two black-and-golden butterflies
alighted; while a great brown beetle, with long black feelers, climbed
up a tall grass-stalk in front of her, which, bending slightly under his
weight, swung to and fro in the gentle breeze which barely stirred Eva's
golden curls; and the field-crickets chirped, and even a snail put his
horns out of his shell to look at the little girl, sitting so quietly in
the grass among the flowers, for Eva was gentle, and neither bee, nor
butterfly, beetle, cricket, or snail were afraid of her. And this is
what Eva called making a fairy-tale for herself.
But sitting so quietly and watching the insects, and hearing their low
hum around her, at last
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EMPIRES AND EMPERORS
OF RUSSIA, CHINA,
KOREA, AND JAPAN
EMPIRES AND EMPERORS
OF RUSSIA, CHINA,
KOREA, AND JAPAN
NOTES AND RECOLLECTIONS
BY MONSIGNOR
COUNT VAY DE VAYA AND LUSKOD
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
1906
[Illustration: _Monsignor The Count Vay de Vaya and Luskod._]
PREFACE
As the name of the author of this book may not be so well known to some
English readers as it is on the Continent, I have, at his request,
undertaken to write a few lines of introduction and preface.
Count Vay de Vaya and Luskod is a member of one of the oldest and most
distinguished families of Hungary. Ever since his ancestor took part
with King Stephen in the foundation of the Hungarian Kingdom, nine
hundred years ago, the members of his family, in succeeding generations,
have been eminent in the service of that state.
The Count studied at various European universities, and was destined for
the diplomatic service, but early in life he decided to take Holy Orders
and devote himself to the work of the Church.
In this capacity he attended the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria in
1897 as one of the envoys of Pope Leo XIII.
The chief enterprise of his life, however, has been to study the work of
the Roman Catholic Church in all parts of the world--her missions,
charitable institutions, schools, and organizations of all kinds.
Few men have travelled so far and into such remote quarters as the Count
Vay de Vaya has, with this object. His position has secured for him
access to the leading and most accomplished circles wherever he has
been, and his linguistic attainments, as well as his wide personal
experience of men and affairs in every quarter of the globe, give him an
almost unique opportunity of describing and commenting on the countries
which he has visited--their people, rulers, and institutions.
Seldom has any region been subjected to such complete and revolutionary
changes as have the countries which he describes in the following pages.
Russia has been compelled to relax that grip on the Far East which
seemed to be permanently tightening and closing: at home she has been
subjected to a social upheaval which at one time threatened the existing
form of government and the throne itself. And for the first time we have
witnessed the triumph of an Asiatic race over one of the leading Powers
of Europe.
The substance of this volume was written in 1902 and the following year,
before any of these events had occurred, or were dreamed of, and this
may cause some of the details of the record to be a little out of date
historically; but the change, far from diminishing, has, on the whole,
probably increased its value to all thoughtful readers.
A few passages of comment and forecast have been added since the
occurrence of the war, but in the main the narrative remains as it was
originally written.
Japan, Korea, Manchuria, and the Siberian Railway have been described
over and over again, both during and since the war, but descriptions of
them on the eve of the outbreak may come with some freshness and enable
readers to compare what was yesterday with what is today.
And what has been changed in the "Unchanging East" bears but a very
small proportion to what remains the same in spite of wars and
revolutions.
I hope, therefore, that these first impressions of countries which, in
name at any rate, are far more familiar to the British public than they
were four or five years ago, may prove of great interest to many readers
in England and America.
The chapters on _The Tsar of all the Russias_, _The Reception at the
Summer Palace_, _The Audience of the Emperor of Korea_, and _The Mikado
and the Empress_, appeared in "Pearson's Magazine," and thanks are due
to the Editor for kind permission to reprint them. The chapters on
_Manchuria under Russian Rule_ first appeared in the "Revue des deux
Mondes," and those on _Japan and China in the Twentieth Century_ in the
"Deutsche Rundschau
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[Illustration: Cover art]
[Illustration: _Her child eyes were still upon him and seemed to ask for
something yet. And, at this, he bent and kissed her gently, as he would
have kissed a child, and did not guess that, at the touch of his lips,
Sidonia's woman's soul was born_. (See page 196.)]
"IF YOUTH BUT KNEW!"
BY
AGNES & EGERTON CASTLE
AUTHORS OF
"ROSE OF THE WORLD," "FRENCH NAN,"
ETC., ETC.
"_Si jeunesse savait..._
_Si vieillesse pouvait!_"
(_Old French Song_)
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY LANCELOT SPEED
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1906
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1906,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1906.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
*CONTENTS*
CHAPTER
I. The Vagabond
II. The Forest House
III. Green Adventure
IV. Parting of the Ways
V. The Invitation of the Road
VI. The Burg
VII. Guests of Chance
VIII. Roses of Trianon
IX. Home-Coming
X. The Burgrave's Welcome
XI. Tangled Tales
XII. The Burgrave's Farewell
XIII. The *Oubliette*
XIV. Love among the Ruins
XV. *Furens quid Femina Possit*
XVI. 'Twixt Cup and Lip
XVII. The Skirt of War
XVIII. The Raid
XIX. The Melody in the Violets
XX. The True Reading of a Letter
XXI. At the Mock Versailles
XXII. The *Cabinet Noir*
XXIII. The King's Mail
XXIV. Portents
XXV. The Perverseness of Words
XXVI. The Ways of Little Courts
XXVII. The Song of the Woods
XXVIII. A Treacherous Haven
XXIX. The Homing Bird
XXX. Dawn Music
*LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS*
Her child eyes were still upon him and seemed to ask for something yet.
And, at this, he bent and kissed her gently, as he would have kissed a
child... _Frontispiece_
"The something that lived on, the miserable carcass, the old man--call
it myself, if you will"
But, as the oncomer drew nearer, the glimmer of hope died in the
discontented gentleman's heart
As she bent, offering him the green goblet of wine, her heavy plait fell
against his shoulder
Wellenshausen
"Look, look, do you see?... There are two men coming up the road with a
pack-horse!"
"The high-born, my mistress, had not expected you before to-morrow,"
said the butler with a deep bow
Meanwhile, up in his chamber, the Burgrave sat in sodden brooding
Steven almost called aloud, as he heard their heavy plunge into the
ambushed waters
Sidonia stood, shaking and pruning herself like a bird, her hair
glinting in the light
"Spread your dark wings, obscene birds!... the scent of Death is in the
air. In a little while you may gorge!... caw--caw!"
"Hurl down the Guard, and the field is ours!... Hurl down the Guard,
aha!"
"She always loved violets. These have no scent,... but hers--oh, they
were sweet!"
They spread him beside the Jurist in the moonlight--with a certain
effect of symmetry
... the great bag on his back, undiminished, save for two warrants and
one private missive
What she was saying was sufficiently remarkable: "Your Majesty mistakes"
"Positively, a bird from the tyrant's aviary," he cried. "A foreign,
French bird!"
His child-wife!... The watchman was chanting the tale of the first
morning hour
The End
TO
"MARIE-LOUISE"
*FOREWORD*
_"Is it not," remarks Fiddler Hans the wanderer, somewhere in these
pages, "instructive to see how the ruler of Westphalia passes his time
while the
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Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic
text is surrounded by _underscores_.
GARDENING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
PRACTICAL ARTS FOR LITTLE GIRLS
A Series Uniform with this Volume
_Each book, illustrated, 75 cents net_
COOKERY FOR LITTLE GIRLS
SEWING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
WORK AND PLAY FOR LITTLE GIRLS
HOUSEKEEPING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
GARDENING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
[Illustration: PUZZLE PICTURE,--FIND THE LITTLE GIRL]
GARDENING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
BY
OLIVE HYDE FOSTER
AUTHOR OF
"COOKERY FOR LITTLE GIRLS"
"SEWING FOR LITTLE GIRLS"
"HOUSEKEEPING FOR LITTLE GIRLS"
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY
1917
Copyright, 1916 by
HOUSE AND GARDEN
Copyright, 1916, by
HOUSEWIVES MAGAZINE
Copyright, 1917, by
ST. NICHOLAS
The Century Co.
Copyright, 1917, by
COUNTRYSIDE MAGAZINE
The Independent Co.
Copyright, 1917, by
OLIVE HYDE FOSTER
_DEDICATED TO
Junior and Allan,
Two of the dearest children that ever showed
love for the soil._
Preface
Children take naturally to gardening, and few occupations count so much
for their development,--mental, moral and physical.
Where children's garden clubs and community gardens have been tried, the
little folks have shown an aptitude surprising to their elders, and
under exactly the same natural, climatic conditions, the children have
often obtained astonishingly greater results. Moreover, in the poor
districts many a family table, previously unattractive and lacking in
nourishment, has been made attractive as well as nutritious, with their
fresh green vegetables and flowers.
Ideas of industry and thrift, too, are at the same time inculcated
without words, and habits formed that affect their character for life. A
well-known New York City Public School superintendent once said to me
that she had a flower bed every year in the children's gardens, where a
troublesome boy could always be controlled by giving to him the honor of
its care and keeping.
The love of nature, whether inborn or acquired, is one of the greatest
sources of pleasure, and any scientific knowledge connected with it of
inestimable satisfaction. Carlyle's lament was, "Would that some one had
taught me in childhood the names of the stars and the grasses."
It is with the hope of helping both mothers and children that this
little book has been most lovingly prepared.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I FIRST STEPS TOWARD A GARDEN 1
II PLANNING AND PLANTING THE FLOWER BEDS 9
III FLOWERS THAT MUST BE RENEWED EVERY YEAR (ANNUALS) 19
IV FLOWERS THAT LIVE THROUGH TWO YEARS 30
V FLOWERS THAT COME UP EVERY YEAR BY THEMSELVES (PERENNIALS) 37
VI FLOWERS THAT SPRING FROM A STOREHOUSE (BULBS AND TUBERS) 48
VII THAT QUEEN--THE ROSE 58
VIII VINES, TENDER AND HARDY 71
IX SHRUBS WE LOVE TO SEE 78
X VEGETABLE GROWING FOR THE HOME TABLE 82
XI YOUR GARDEN'S FRIENDS AND FOES 94
XII A MORNING-GLORY PLAYHOUSE 102
XIII THE WORK OF A CHILDREN'S GARDEN CLUB 107
XIV THE CARE OF HOUSE PLANTS 115
XV GIFTS THAT WILL PLEASE A FLOWER LOVER 130
XVI THE GENTLEWOMAN'S ART--ARRANGING FLOWERS 137
ILLUSTRATIONS
PUZZLE PICTURE,--FIND THE LITTLE GIRL, _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
FIRST WORK IN THE SPRING 14
KIM AND COLUMBINE 40
TAKING CARE OF TABLE FERNS 56
CLEANING UP AROUND THE SHRUBS 78
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[Illustration:
BATTLE OF HEXHAM
MARGARET--STRIKE NOT ON THY ALLEGIANCE
ACT II. SCENE III
PAINTED BY HOWARD PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN & CO ENGRAVD BY STOW]
THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; OR, DAYS OF OLD;
A PLAY, IN THREE ACTS;
BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER.
AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET.
PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.
WITH REMARKS BY MRS. INCHBALD.
* * * * *
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW.
WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER,
LONDON.
REMARKS.
Mr. Colman acquaints his readers, in his Preface to this play, dated
1808, that it was written near twenty years ago: then, stating, as an
apology to his jocose accusers, this reason for having made Shakespeare
the model for his dialogue--that plays, which exhibit incidents of
former ages, should have the language of the characters conform to
their dress--he adds--"To copy Shakspeare, in the general _tournure_ of
his phraseology, is a mechanical task, which may be accomplished with
a common share of industry and observation:--and this I have attempted
(for the reason assigned); endeavouring, at the same time, to avoid a
servile quaintness, which would disgust. To aspire to a resemblance of
his boundless powers, would have been the labour of a coxcomb;--and had
I been vain enough to have essayed it, I should have placed myself in a
situation similar to that of the strolling actor, who advertised his
performance of a part"--"In imitation of the inimitable Garrick."
"The Battle of Hexham" has been one of the author's most popular works;
and has, perhaps, to charge its present loss of influence with the
public, to those historical events of modern times, which have steeled
the heart against all minor scenes of woe, and deprived of their
wonted interest the sorrows of Queen Margaret and her child.
There is a short, but well known narrative, written by one Clery,
an humble valet de chambre--which, for pathetic claims, in behalf of
suffering majesty and infant royalty, may bid defiance to all that
history has before recorded, or poets feigned, to melt the soul to
sympathy.
Nor can anxiety be now awakened in consequence of a past battle at
Hexham, between a few thousand men, merely disputing which of two
cousins should be their king, when, at this present period, hundreds
of thousands yearly combat and die, in a cause of far less doubtful
importance.
The loyal speeches of Gondibert, in this play, his zeal in the cause of
his sovereign, every reader will admire--yet one difficulty occurs to
abate this admiration--Did Gondibert know who his sovereign _was_? This
question seems to be involved in that same degree of darkness, in which
half the destructive battles which ever took place have been fought.
The adverse parties at Hexham had each a sovereign. Edward the Fourth
was the lawful king of the York adherents, as Henry the Sixth was of
those of Lancaster; and Edward had at least birthright on his side,
being the lineal descendant of the elder brother of Henry the Fourth,
and, as such, next heir to Richard the Second, setting aside the
usurper.--But, possibly, the degraded state of Henry the Sixth was
the strongest tie, which bound this valiant soldier to his supposed
allegiance;--for there are politicians so compassionate towards the
afflicted, or so envious of the prosperous, they will not cordially
acknowledge a monarch until he is dethroned.--Even the people of
England never would allow the Bourbon family to be the lawful kings
of France, till within these last fifteen years[1].
The youthful reader will delight in the conjugal ardour of Adeline;
whilst the prudent matron will conceive--that, had she loved her
blooming offspring, as she professes, it had been better to have
remained at home for their protection, than to have wandered in camps
and forests, dressed in vile disguise, solely for the joy of seeing
their father.--But prudence is a virtue, which would destroy the best
heroine that ever was invented. A mediocrity of discretion even,
dispersed among certain characters of a drama, might cast a gloom over
the whole fable, divest every incident
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material from the Google Print project.)
[This e-text includes characters that require UTF-8 (Unicode) file
encoding:
œ : “oe” ligature
Ȝȝ, ƿ, ſ, ǽ : yogh, wynn, long s, accented æ (only in notes)
These characters, as well as a single Greek phrase, occur only in the
notes, not in the poem itself. If any of the characters do not display
properly, or if the apostrophes and quotation marks in this paragraph
appear as garbage, make sure your text reader’s “character set” or
“file encoding” is set to Unicode (UTF-8). You may also need to change
the default font. As a last resort, use the Latin-1 version of the
file instead.
The original book (EETS E.S. 4, 1868, ed. Skeat) exists in at least two
forms. See Errata section at the end of the e-text for details.
In the main text, footnotes are grouped at the end of text sections.
Most headnotes have similarly been moved to the nearest break in the
text. Sidenotes keep their original starting point, but are collected
into full sentences.
_Typography:_
Large initial capitals are shown with a single leading + to avoid
“breaking” the text:
+Herknet to me, gode men
Wiues, maydnes, and alle men...
Italicized letters representing expanded contractions are shown in
br{ac}es. All other italics are shown conventionally with _lines_; this
includes italicized _w_, used by the editor for wynn ƿ. If you find the
braces distracting you may delete them globally; they are not used for
any other purpose.
A few French passages in the Preface use a trailing tilde ~, as in the
word “q~”. In the original, the ~ was attached to the preceding letter,
but not directly above it. Superscript letters are shown with a caret ^.
Square brackets are in the original except those in standard formulas
such as [Footnote] or [Transcriber’s Note].]
THE LAY OF
HAVELOK THE DANE.
Early English Text Society.
Extra Series. No. IV.
1868.
Dublin: William McGee, 18, Nassau Street.
Edinburgh: T. G. Stevenson, 22, South Frederick Street.
Glasgow: Ogle & Co., 1, Royal Exchange Square.
Berlin: Asher & Co., Unter den Linden, 20.
New York: C. Scribner & Co.; Leypoldt & Holt.
Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co.
Boston, U.S.: Dutton & Co.
+The Lay of+
+HAVELOK THE DANE:+
Composed in the Reign of Edward I, about A.D. 1280.
Formerly Edited by Sir F. Madden for the Roxburghe Club,
And now Re-Edited from the Unique Ms. Laud Misc. 108,
in the Bodleian Library, Oxford;
by the
REV. WALTER W. SKEAT, M.A.,
Author of “A Mœso-Gothic Glossary,” Editor of “Piers Plowman,”
“William of Palerne,” &c.
[Illustration: Seal of Great Grimsby]
LONDON:
Published For The Early English Text Society,
By N. Trübner & Co., 60, Paternoster Row.
MDCCCLXVIII.
+Extra Series,+
IV.
John Childs and Son, Printers.
CONTENTS.
TITLEPAGE. The engraving represents the seal of Great Grimsby,
described in § 19 of the Preface, p. xxi.
PREFACE. § 1. The former edition of 1828. § 2. The present
edition. § 3. Plan of this edition. § 4. Notices of the story by
Early Writers: the longer French Version. § 5. The shorter
French Version. § 6. Peter de Langtoft (1307). § 7. Rauf de Boun
(1310). § 8. A Brief Genealogy, Herald’s Coll. MS. (ab. 1310).
§ 9. Metrical Chronicle (ab. 1313). § 10. Robert of Brunne
(1338); ed. Hearne. § 11. Robert of Brunne; Lambeth MS.
§ 12. French Prose “Brute” (1332). § 13. English Prose “Brute,”
MS.
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STORIES BY ENGLISH AUTHORS
ITALY
CONTENTS
A FAITHFUL RETAINER James Payn
BIANCA W. E. Norris
GONERIL A. Mary F. Robinson
THE BRIGAND'S BRIDE Laurence Oliphant
MRS. GENERAL TALBOYS Anthony Trollope
A FAITHFUL RETAINER, By James Payn
When I lived in the country,--which was a long time ago,--our nearest
neighbours were the Luscombes. They were very great personages in the
country indeed, and the family were greatly "respected"; though not,
so far as I could discern, for any particular reason, except from
their having been there for several generations. People are supposed to
improve, like wine, from keeping--even if they are rather "ordinary" at
starting; and the Luscombes, at the time I knew them, were considered
quite a "vintage" family. They had begun in Charles II.'s time, and
dated their descent from greatness in the female line. That they had
managed to keep a great estate not very much impaired so long was
certainly a proof of great cleverness, since there had been many
spend-thrifts among them; but fortunately there had been a miser or two,
who had restored the average, and their fortunes.
Mr. Roger Luscombe, the present proprietor, was neither the one nor the
other, but he was inclined to frugality, and no wonder; a burnt child
dreads the fire, even though he may have had nothing to do with lighting
it himself, and his father had kicked down a good many thousands with
the help of "the bones" (as dice were called in his day) and "the
devil's books" (which was the name for cards with those that disapproved
of them) and race-horses; there was plenty left, but it made the old
gentleman careful and especially solicitous to keep it. There was no
stint, however, of any kind at the Court, which to me, who lived in the
little vicarage of Dalton with my father, seemed a palace.
It was indeed a very fine place, with statues in the hall and pictures
in the gallery and peacocks on the terrace. Lady Jane, the daughter of
a wealthy peer, who had almost put things on their old footing with her
ample dowry, was a very great lady, and had been used, I was told, to
an even more splendid home; but to me, who had no mother, she was simply
the kindest and most gracious woman I had ever known.
My connection with the Luscombes arose from their only son Richard
being my father's pupil. We were both brought up at home, but for very
different reasons. In my case it was from economy: the living was small
and our family was large, though, as it happened, I had no brothers.
Richard was too precious to his parents to be trusted to the tender
mercies of a public school. He was in delicate health, not so much
natural to him as caused by an excess of care--coddling. Though he and I
were very good friends, unless when we were quarreling, it must be owned
that he was a spoiled boy.
There is a good deal of nonsense talked of young gentlemen who are
brought up from their cradles in an atmosphere of flattery _not_
being spoiled; but unless they are angels--which is a very exceptional
case--it cannot be otherwise. Richard Luscombe was a good fellow in
many ways; liberal with his money (indeed, apt to be lavish), and
kind-hearted, but self-willed, effeminate, and impulsive. He had
also--which was a source of great alarm and grief to his father--a
marked taste for speculation.
After the age of "alley tors and commoneys," of albert-rock and
hard-bake, in which we both gambled frightfully, I could afford him no
opportunities of gratifying this passion; but if he could get a little
money "on" anything, there was nothing that pleased him better--not
that he cared for the money, but for the delight of winning it. The next
moment he would give it away to a beggar. Numbers of good people look
upon gambling with even greater horror than it deserves, because they
cannot understand this; the attraction of risk, and the wild joy of
"pulling off" something when the chances are against one, are unknown to
them. It is the same with the love of liquor. Richard Luscombe had not
a spark of that (his father left him one of the best cellars in England,
but he never touches even a glass of claret after dinner; "I should as
soon think," he says, "of eating when I am not hungry"); but he dearly
liked what he called a "spec." Never shall I forget the first time he
realised anything that could be termed a stake.
When he was about sixteen, he and I had driven over to some little
country races a few miles away from Dalton, without, I fear, announcing
our intention of so doing. Fresh air was good for "our dear Richard,"
and since pedestrian exercise (which he also hated) exhausted him, he
had
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EVE AND DAVID
(Lost Illusions Part III)
By Honore De Balzac
Translated By Ellen Marriage
PREPARER'S NOTE
Eve and David is part three of a trilogy. Eve and David's story
begins in part one, Two Poets. Part one also introduces Eve's
brother, Lucien. Part two, A Distinguished Provincial at Paris,
centers on Lucien's life in Paris. For part three the action once
more returns to Eve and David in Angouleme. In many references parts
one and three are combined under the title Lost Illusions and A
Distinguished Provincial at Paris is given its individual title.
Following this trilogy Lucien's story is continued in another book,
Scenes from a Courtesan's Life.
EVE AND DAVID
Lucien had gone to Paris; and David Sechard, with the courage
and intelligence of the ox which painters give the Evangelist for
accompanying symbol, set himself to make the large fortune for which he
had wished that evening down by the Charente, when he sat with Eve by
the weir, and she gave him her hand and her heart. He wanted to make the
money quickly, and less for himself than for Eve's sake and Lucien's. He
would place his wife amid the elegant and comfortable surroundings that
were hers by right, and his strong arm should sustain her brother's
ambitions--this was the programme that he saw before his eyes in letters
of fire.
Journalism and politics, the immense development of the book trade,
of literature and of the sciences; the increase of public interest in
matters touching the various industries in the country; in fact, the
whole social tendency of the epoch following the establishment of the
Restoration produced an enormous increase in the demand for paper. The
supply required was almost ten times as large as the quantity in which
the celebrated Ouvrard speculated at the outset of the Revolution.
Then Ouvrard could buy up first the entire stock of paper and then the
manufacturers; but in the year 1821 there were so many paper-mills in
France, that no one could hope to repeat his success; and David had
neither audacity enough nor capital enough for such speculation.
Machinery for producing paper in any length was just coming into use
in England. It was one of the most urgent needs of the time, therefore,
that the paper trade should keep pace with the requirements of the
French system of civil government, a system by which the right of
discussion was to be extended to every man, and the whole fabric based
upon continual expression of individual opinion; a grave misfortune, for
the nation that deliberates is but little wont to act.
So, strange coincidence! while Lucien was drawn into the great machinery
of journalism, where he was like to leave his honor and his intelligence
torn to shreds, David Sechard, at the back of his printing-house,
foresaw all the practical consequences of the increased activity of the
periodical press. He saw the direction in which the spirit of the age
was tending, and sought to find means to the required end. He saw also
that there was a fortune awaiting the discoverer of cheap paper, and the
event has justified his clearsightedness. Within the last fifteen years,
the Patent Office has received more than a hundred applications from
persons claiming to have discovered cheap substances to be employed in
the manufacture of paper. David felt more than ever convinced that this
would be no brilliant triumph, it is true, but a useful and immensely
profitable discovery; and after his brother-in-law went to Paris, he
became more and more absorbed in the problem which he had set himself to
solve.
The expenses of his marriage and of Lucien's journey to Paris had
exhausted all his resources; he confronted the extreme of poverty at
the very outset of married life. He had kept one thousand francs for the
working expenses of the business, and owed a like sum, for which he had
given a bill to Postel the druggist. So here was a double problem for
this deep thinker; he must invent a method of making cheap paper, and
that quickly; he must make the discovery, in fact, in order to apply the
proceeds to the needs of the household and of the business. What words
can describe the brain that can forget the cruel preoccupations caused
by hidden want, by the daily needs of a family and the daily drudgery of
a printer's business, which requires such minute, painstaking care; and
soar, with the enthusiasm and intoxication of the man of science, into
the regions of the unknown in quest of a secret which daily eludes the
most subtle experiment? And the inventor, alas! as will shortly be seen,
has plenty of woes to endure
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_THE CONTEMPORARY SCIENCE SERIES._
EDITED BY HAVELOCK ELLIS.
THE INDUSTRIES OF ANIMALS.
THE INDUSTRIES OF ANIMALS.
BY
FREDERIC HOUSSAY.
WITH 44 ILLUSTRATIONS.
LONDON:
WALTER SCOTT, LTD.,
24 WARWICK LANE, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1893.
NOTE.
The English edition of this book has been revised throughout and
enlarged, with the author's co-operation. Numerous bibliographical
references have also been added. The illustrations, when not otherwise
stated, are in most cases adapted from Brehm's _Thierleben_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION
The naturalists of yesterday and the naturalists of to-day--Natural
history and the natural sciences--The theory of Evolution--The chief
industries of Man--The chief industries of Animals--Intelligence and
instinct--Instinctive actions originate in reflective actions--The
plan of study of the various industries.
CHAPTER II.
HUNTING--FISHING--WARS AND EXPEDITIONS
The Carnivora more skilful hunters than the Herbivora--Different
methods of hunting--Hunting in ambush--The baited ambush--Hunting in
the dwelling or in the burrow--Coursing--Struggles that terminate the
hunt--Hunting with projectiles--Particular circumstances put to
profit--Methods for utilising the captured game--War and
brigandage--Expeditions to acquire slaves--Wars of the ants.
CHAPTER III.
METHODS OF DEFENCE
Flight--Feint--Resistance in common by social animals--Sentinels.
CHAPTER IV.
PROVISIONS AND DOMESTIC ANIMALS
Provisions laid up for a short period--Provisions laid up for a long
period--Animals who construct barns--Physiological reserves--Stages
between physiological reserves and provisions--Animals who submit food
to special treatment in order to facilitate transport--Care bestowed
on harvested provisions--Agricultural ants--Gardening ants--Domestic
animals of ants--Degrees of civilisation in the same species of
ants--Aphis-pens and paddocks--Slavery among ants.
CHAPTER V.
PROVISION FOR REARING THE YOUNG
The preservation of the individual and the preservation of the
species--Foods manufactured by the parents for their young--Species
which obtain for their larvae foods manufactured by others--Carcasses
of animals stored up--Provision of paralysed living animals--The cause
of the paralysis--The sureness of instinct--Similar cases in which the
specific instinct is less powerful and individual initiative
greater--Genera less skilful in the art of paralysing victims.
CHAPTER VI.
DWELLINGS
Animals naturally provided with dwellings--Animals who increase their
natural protection by the addition of foreign bodies--Animals who
establish their home in the natural or artificial dwellings of
others--Classification of artificial shelters--Hollowed
dwellings--Rudimentary burrows--Carefully-disposed burrows--Burrows
with barns adjoined--Dwellings hollowed out in wood--Woven
dwellings--Rudiments of this industry--Dwellings formed of
coarsely-entangled materials--Dwellings woven of flexible
substances--Dwellings woven with greater art--The art of sewing among
birds--Modifications of dwellings according to season and climate--Built
dwellings--Paper nests--Gelatine nests--Constructions built of
earth--Solitary masons--Masons working in association--Individual
skill and reflection--Dwellings built of hard materials united by
mortar--The dams of beavers.
CHAPTER VII.
THE DEFENCE AND SANITATION OF DWELLINGS
General precautions against possible danger--Separation of females while
brooding--Hygienic measures of Bees--Prudence of Bees--Fortifications
of Bees--Precautions against inquisitiveness--Lighting up the nests.
CHAPTER VIII.
CONCLUSION
Degree of perfection in industry independent of zoological
superiority--Mental faculties of the lower animals of like nature to
Man's.
APPENDIX
INDEX
THE INDUSTRIES OF ANIMALS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
THE NATURALISTS OF YESTERDAY AND THE NATURALISTS OF
TO-DAY--NATURAL HISTORY AND THE NATURAL SCIENCES--THE THEORY
OF EVOLUTION--THE CHIEF INDUSTRIES OF MAN--THE CHIEF
INDUSTRIES OF ANIMALS--INTELLIGENCE AND INSTINCT--INSTINCTIVE
ACTIONS ORIGINATE IN REFLECTIVE ACTIONS--THE PLAN OF STUDY OF
THE VARIOUS INDUSTRIES.
_The naturalists of yesterday and the naturalists of to-day._--The
study of animals, plants, rocks, and of natural objects generally, was
formerly called "natural history"; but this term is tending to
disappear from our vocabulary and to give place to the term "natural
sciences." What is the reason of this change, and to what does it
correspond? for it is rare for a word to be modified in so short a
time if the thing designated has not itself varied.
Exterior forms have certainly changed, and the naturalist of yesterday
makes upon us the impression of a legendary being. I refer to the
person described in George Sand's romances, marching vigorously over
hills and valleys in search of a rare insect, which he pricked with
delight, or of a plant difficult to reach, which he triumphantly dried
and fixed on a leaf of paper bearing the date of the discovery and the
name of the locality. A herbarium became a sort of journal, recalling
to its fortunate possessor all the wanderings of the happy chase, all
the delightful sounds and sights of the country. Every naturalist
concealed within him a lover of idylls or eclogues. Assuredly all the
preliminary studies which resulted from these excursions were
necessary; we owe gratitude to our predecessors, and we profit from
their labours, sometimes regretting the loss of the picturesque
fashion in which their researches were carried out.
The naturalist of to-day usually lives more in the laboratory than in
the country. Occasional expeditions to the coast or dredgings are the
only links that attach him to nature; the scalpel and the microtome
have replaced the collector's pins, and the magnifying glass gives
place to the microscope. When the observer begins to pursue his
studies in the laboratory he no longer cares to pass the threshold. He
has still so much to learn concerning the most common creatures that
it seems useless to him to waste his time in seeking those that are
rarer, unless he takes into account the unquestionable pleasure of
rambling through woods or along coasts;--but such a consideration does
not belong to the scientific domain.
A change of conditions of this nature does not suffice to create a
science. To take away from a study all that rendered it pleasant and
easy, and to make it the property of a small coterie, when it was
formerly accessible to all, is not sufficient to render it scientific.
It is a fatality rather than a triumph to have undergone such a
change. The change is an effect rather than a cause.
When little or nothing was known it was necessary to begin by
examining the phenomena which first met the eyes of the observer, such
as the customs of animals and the characters which distinguished them
from each other. Their differences and resemblances were studied; they
were formed into groups, classed and arranged in an order recalling as
much as possible their natural relations. In classifying it is
impossible to consider all the facts or the result would be chaos; it
is necessary to choose the characters and to give preponderance to
certain of them. This sorting of characters has been executed with the
sagacity of genius by the illustrious naturalists of the last century
and the beginning of the present. But the frames which they have
traced are fixed and rigid; nature with her infinite plasticity
escapes from them. We render a great homage to the classifiers when we
say that they have confined the facts as closely as it is possible to
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Transcriber's note:
In 1834, at age 19, Anthony Trollope became a junior clerk
in the British postal service. He did not get on well with
his superiors, and his career looked like a dead end. In
1841 he accepted an assignment in Ireland as an inspector,
remaining there for ten years. It was there that his civil
service career began to flourish. It was there, also, that
he began writing novels.
Several of Trollope's early novels were set in Ireland,
including _The Macdermots of Ballycloran_, his first
published novel, and _Castle Richmond_. Readers of those
early Irish novels can easily perceive Trollope's great
affection for and sympathy with the Irish people,
especially the poor.
In 1882 Ireland was in the midst of great troubles,
including boycotts and the near breakdown of law and
order. In May of that year Lord Frederick Cavendish, the
newly-appointed Chief Secretary for Ireland, and Thomas
Burke, a prominent civil servant, were assassinated in
Dublin. The news stirred Trollope, despite his poor
health, to travel to Ireland to see for himself the state
of things. Upon his return to England he began writing
_The Landleaguers_. He made a second journey to Ireland
in August, 1882, to seek more material for his book. He
returned to England exhausted, but he continued writing.
He had almost completed the book when he suffered a stroke
on November 3, 1882. He never recovered, and he died on
December 6
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CATHERINE BOOTH
A SKETCH
_Reprinted from The Warriors' Library_
BY
COLONEL MILDRED DUFF
WITH A PREFACE BY
GENERAL BRAMWELL BOOTH
PREFACE
Colonel Duff has, at my request, written the following very interesting
and touching account of my dear Mother; and she has done so in the hope
that those who read it will be helped to follow in the footsteps of that
wonderful servant of God.
But how can they do so? Was not Mrs. Booth, you ask, an exceptional
woman? Had she not great gifts and very remarkable powers, and was she
not trained in a very special way to do the work to which God called her?
How, then, can ordinary people follow in her steps? Let me tell you.
Mrs. Booth walked with God. When she was only a timid girl, helping her
mother in the household, she continually sought after Him; and when, in
later years, she became known by multitudes, and was written of in the
newspapers, and greatly beloved by the good in many lands, there was no
difference in her life in that matter. She was not content with being
Mrs. General Booth of The Salvation Army, and with being looked upon as a
great and good woman, giving her life to bless others. No! she listened
daily for God's voice in her own heart, sought after His will, and leaned
continually for strength and grace upon her Saviour. You can be like her
in that.
Mrs. Booth was a soul-winner. A little while before her spirit passed
into the presence of God, and when she knew that death was quite near to
her, she said: 'Tell the Soldiers that the great consolation for a
Salvationist on his dying bed is to feel that he has been a soul-winner.'
Wherever she went--in the houses of strangers as well as of friends, in
the Meetings, great and small, when she was welcomed and when she was
not, whether alone or with others--she laboured to lead souls to Christ.
I have known her at one time spend as much trouble to win one as at
another time to win fifty. You can follow her example in that.
Mrs. Booth always declared herself and took sides with right. Whatever
was happening around her, people always knew which side she was on. She
spoke out for the right, the good, and the true, even when doing so
involved very disagreeable experiences and the bearing of much
unkindness. She hated the spirit which can look on at what is wicked and
false or cruel, and say, 'Oh, that is not my affair!' You can follow her
example in this also.
Mrs. Booth laboured all her life to improve her gifts. She thought; she
prayed; she worked; she read--above all, she read her Bible. It was her
companion as a child, as a young follower of Christ, and then as a Leader
in The Army. Those miserable words which some of us hear so often about
some bad or unfinished work--'Oh, that will do'--were seldom heard from
her lips. She was always striving, striving, striving to do better, and
yet better, and again better still. All this also you can do.
Mrs. Booth was full of sympathy. No one who was in need or in sorrow, or
who was suffering, could meet her without finding out that, she was in
sympathy with them. Her heart was tender with the love of Christ, and so
she was deeply touched by the sin and sorrow around her just as He was.
Even the miseries of the dumb animals moved her to efforts on their
behalf. This sympathy made Mrs. Booth quick to see and appreciate the
toil and self-denial of others, and ever grateful for any kindness shown
to her or to The Army or to those in need of any kind. The very humblest
and youngest of those who read this little book can be like her in all
this.
Mrs. Booth endured to the end. She never turned back. She was faithful.
Her life and work would have been spoilt if she had given up the fight.
She was often sorely tempted. She was slandered and misrepresented by
enemies, betrayed by false friends, and often deeply wounded by those who
professed to love her, though they deserted the Flag. But she held fast.
You can be like her in that. You may make many mistakes, suffer many
defeats, but you can still keep going on, and it is to those who go on to
the very end, whether in weakness or in strength, that Jesus will give
the crown of life.
Mrs. Booth trusted
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Produced by A. Elizabeth Warren
STALKY & CO.
By Rudyard Kipling
“Let us now praise famous men”--
Men of little showing--
For their work continueth,
And their work continueth,
Greater than their knowing.
Western wind and open surge
Tore us from our mothers;
Flung us on a naked shore
(Twelve bleak houses by the shore!
Seven summers by the shore!)
‘Mid two hundred brothers.
There we met with famous men
Set in office o’er us.
And they beat on us with rods--
Faithfully with many rods--
Daily beat us on with rods--
For the love they bore us!
Out of Egypt unto Troy--
Over Himalaya--
Far and sure our bands have gone--
Hy-Brasil or Babylon,
Islands of the Southern Run,
And cities of Cathaia!
And we all praise famous men--
Ancients of the College;
For they taught us common sense---
Tried to teach us common sense--
Truth and God’s Own Common Sense
Which is more than knowledge!
Each degree of Latitude
Strung about Creation
Seeth one (or more) of us,
(Of one muster all of us--
Of one master all of us--)
Keen in his vocation.
This we learned from famous men
Knowing not its uses
When they showed in daily work
Man must finish off his work--
Right or wrong, his daily work--
And without excuses.
Servants of the staff and chain,
Mine and fuse and grapnel--
Some before the face of Kings,
Stand before the face of Kings;
Bearing gifts to divers Kings--
Gifts of Case and Shrapnel.
This we learned from famous men
Teaching in our borders.
Who declare’d it was best,
Safest, easiest and best--
Expeditious, wise and best--
To obey your orders.
Some beneath the further stars
Bear the greater burden.
Set to serve the lands they rule,
(Save he serve no man may rule)
Serve and love the lands they rule;
Seeking praise nor guerdon.
This we learned from famous men
Knowing not we learned it.
Only, as the years went by--
Lonely, as the years went by--
Far from help as years went by
Plainer we discerned it.
Wherefore praise we famous men
From whose bays we borrow--
They that put aside Today--
All the joys of their Today--
And with toil of their Today
Bought for us Tomorrow!
Bless and praise we famous men
Men of little showing!
For their work continueth
And their work continueth
Broad and deep continueth
Great beyond their knowing!
Copyright, 1899. by Rudyard Kipling
CONTENTS
I. IN AMBUSH
II. SLAVES OF THE LAMP--PART I.
III. AN UNSAVORY INTERLUDE
IV. THE IMPRESSIONISTS
V. THE MORAL REFORMERS
VI. A LITTLE PREP.
VII. THE FLAG OF THEIR COUNTRY
VIII. THE LAST TERM
IX. SLAVES OF THE LAMP--PART II.
“IN AMBUSH.”
In summer all right-minded boys built huts in the furze-hill behind the
College--little lairs whittled out of the heart of the prickly bushes,
full of stumps, odd root-ends, and spikes, but, since they were strictly
forbidden, palaces of delight. And for the fifth summer in succession,
Stalky, McTurk, and Beetle (this was before they reached the dignity of
a study) had built like beavers a place of retreat and meditation, where
they smoked.
Now, there was nothing in their characters as known to Mr. Prout,
their house-master, at all commanding respect; nor did Foxy, the
subtle red-haired school Sergeant, trust them. His business was to wear
tennis-shoes, carry binoculars, and swoop hawklike upon evil boys. Had
he taken the field alone, that hut would have been raided, for Foxy
knew the manners of his quarry; but Providence moved Mr. Prout,
whose school-name, derived from the size of his feet, was Hoo
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I***
E-text prepared by Richard J. Shiffer and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 28020-h.htm or 28020-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/0/2/28020/28020-h/28020-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/0/2/28020/28020-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other
inconsistencies.
Many occurrences of mismatched single and double quotes remain
as they were in the original.
Text that has been changed to correct an obvious error is noted
at the end of this ebook.
HISTORY OF WOMAN SUFFRAGE.
Edited by
ELIZABETH CADY STANTON, SUSAN B. ANTHONY, AND MATILDA JOSLYN GAGE.
Illustrated with Steel Engravings.
In Three Volumes.
VOL. I.
1848-1861.
"GOVERNMENTS DERIVE THEIR JUST POWERS FROM THE CONSENT OF THE GOVERNED."
[Illustration: FRANCES WRIGHT (with autograph).]
Second Edition.
Susan B. Anthony.
Rochester, N. Y.: Charles Mann.
London: 25 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden.
Paris. G. Fischbacher, 33 Rue De Seine.
1889.
Copyright, 1881, by
Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and
Matilda Joslyn Gage.
Copyright, 1887, by Susan B. Anthony.
THESE VOLUMES
ARE
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
TO THE
Memory of
MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT,
FRANCES WRIGHT, LUCRETIA MOTT, HARRIET MARTINEAU, LYDIA MARIA CHILD,
MARGARET FULLER, SARAH AND ANGELINA GRIMKE, JOSEPHINE S. GRIFFING,
MARTHA C. WRIGHT, HARRIOT K. HUNT, M.D., MARIANA W. JOHNSON,
ALICE AND PHEBE CAREY, ANN PRESTON, M.D., LYDIA MOTT,
ELIZA W. FARNHAM, LYDIA F. FOWLER, M.D.,
PAULINA WRIGHT DAVIS,
Whose Earnest Lives and Fearless Words, in Demanding
Political Rights for Women, have been,
in the Preparation of these Pages,
a Constant Inspiration
TO
The Editors.
PREFACE.
In preparing this work, our object has been to put into permanent
shape the few scattered reports of the Woman Suffrage Movement still
to be found, and to make it an arsenal of facts for those who are
beginning to inquire into the demands and arguments of the leaders of
this reform. Although the continued discussion of the political rights
of woman during the last thirty years, forms a most important link in
the chain of influences tending to her emancipation, no attempt at its
history has been made. In giving the inception and progress of this
agitation, we who have undertaken the task have been moved by the
consideration that many of oar co-workers have already fallen asleep,
and that in a few years all who could tell the story will have passed
away.
In collecting material for these volumes, most of those of whom we
solicited facts have expressed themselves deeply interested in our
undertaking, and have gladly contributed all they could, feeling that
those identified with this reform were better qualified to prepare a
faithful history with greater patience and pleasure, than those of
another generation possibly could.
A few have replied, "It is too early to write the history of this
movement; wait until our object is attained; the actors themselves can
not write an impartial history; they have had their discords,
divisions, personal hostilities, that unfit them for the work."
Viewing the enfranchisement of woman as the most important demand of
the century, we have felt no temptation to linger over individual
differences. These occur in all associations, and may be regarded in
this case as an evidence of the growing self-assertion and
individualism in woman.
Woven with the threads of this history, we have given some personal
reminiscences and brief biographical sketches. To the few who, through
ill-timed humility, have refused to contribute any of their early
experiences we would suggest, that as each brick in a magnificent
structure might have had no special value alone on the road-side, yet,
in combination with many others, its size, position, quality, becomes
of vital consequence; so with the actors in any great reform, though
they may be of little value in themselves; as a part of a great
movement they may be worthy of mention--even important to the
completion of an historical record.
To be historians of a reform in which we have been among the chief
actors, has its points of embarrassment as well as advantage. Those
who fight the battle can best give what all readers like to know--the
impelling motives to action; the struggle in the face of opposition;
the vexation under ridicule; and the despair in
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See http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/10706
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Viertes Buch: Die Revolution, is in the Project Gutenberg
E-Library as E-book #3063.
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THE HISTORY OF ROME, BOOK IV
The Revolution
by
THEODOR MOMMSEN
Translated with the Sanction of the Author
by
William Purdie Dickson, D.D., LL.D.
Professor of Divinity in the University of Glasgow
Preparer's Note
This work contains many literal citations of and references to words,
sounds, and alphabetic symbols drawn from many languages, including
Gothic and Phoenician, but chiefly Latin and Greek. This English
language Gutenberg edition, constrained within the scope of 7-bit
ASCII code, adopts the following orthographic conventions:
1) Words and phrases regarded as "foreign imports", italicized in the
original text published in 1903; but which in the intervening century
have become "naturalized" into English; words such as "de jure",
"en masse", etc. are not given any special typographic distinction.
2) Except for Greek, all literally cited non-English words that do
not refer to texts cited as academic references, words that in the
source manuscript appear italicized, are rendered with a single
preceding, and a single following dash; thus, -xxxx-.
3) Greek words, first transliterated into Roman alphabetic equivalents,
are rendered with a preceding and a following double-dash; thus, --xxxx--.
Note that in some cases the root word itself is a compound form such as
xxx-xxxx, and is rendered as --xxx-xxx--
4) Simple non-ideographic references to vocalic sounds, single letters,
or alphabeic dipthongs; and prefixes, suffixes, and syllabic references
are represented by a single preceding dash; thus, -x, or -xxx.
5) The following refers particularly to the complex discussion of
alphabetic evolution in Ch. XIV: Measuring And Writing). Ideographic
references, meaning pointers to the form of representation itself rather
than to its content, are represented as -"id:xxxx"-. "id:" stands for
"ideograph", and indicates that the reader should form a mental picture
based on the "xxxx" following the colon. "xxxx" may represent a single
symbol, a word, or an attempt at a picture composed of ASCII characters.
E. g. --"id:GAMMA gamma"-- indicates an uppercase Greek gamma-form
Followed by the form in lowercase. Some such exotic parsing as this
is necessary to explain alphabetic development because a single symbol
may have been used for a number of sounds in a number of languages,
or even for a number of sounds in the same language at different
times. Thus, -"id:GAMMA gamma" might very well refer to a Phoenician
construct that in appearance resembles the form that eventually
stabilized as an uppercase Greek "gamma" juxtaposed to another one
of lowercase. Also, a construct such as --"id:E" indicates a symbol
that in graphic form most closely resembles an ASCII uppercase "E",
but, in fact, is actually drawn more crudely.
6) The numerous subheading references, of the form "XX. XX. Topic"
found in the appended section of endnotes are to be taken as "proximate"
rather than topical indicators. That is, the information contained
in the endnote indicates primarily the location in the main text
of the closest indexing "handle", a subheading, which may or may not
echo congruent subject matter.
The reason for this is that in the translation from an original
paged manuscript to an unpaged "cyberscroll", page numbers are lost.
In this edition subheadings are the only remaining indexing "handles"
of sub-chapter scale. Unfortunately, in some stretches of text these
subheadings may be as sparse as merely one in three pages. Therefore,
it would seem to make best sense to save the reader time and temper
by adopting a shortest path method to indicate the desired reference.
7) Dr. Mommsen has given his dates in terms of Roman usage, A.U.C.;
that is, from the founding of Rome, conventionally taken to be 753 B. C.
To the end of each volume is appended a table of conversion between
the two systems.
CONTENTS
BOOK IV: The Revolution
CHAPTER
I. The Subject Countries Down to the Times of the Gracchi
II. The Reform Movement and Tiberius Gracchus
III. The Revolution and Gaius Gracchus
IV. The Rule of the Restoration
V. The Peoples of the North
VI. The Attempt of Marius at Revolution and the Attempt
of Drusus at Reform
VII. The Revolt of the Italian Subjects, and the Sulpician
Revolution
VIII. The East and King Mithradates
IX. Cinna and Sulla
X. The Sullan Constitution
XI. The Commonwealth and Its Economy
XII. Nationality, Religion, and Education
XIII. Literature and Art
BOOK FOURTH
The Revolution
"-Aber sie treiben's toll;
Ich furcht', es breche."
Nicht jeden Wochenschluss
Macht Gott die Zeche-.
Goethe.
Chapter I
The Subject Countries Down to the Times of the Gracchi
The Subjects
With the abolition of the Macedonian monarchy the supremacy of Rome
not only became an established fact from the Pillars of Hercules to
the mouths of the Nile and the Orontes, but, as if it were the final
decree of fate, it weighed on the nations with all the pressure of
an inevitable necessity, and seemed to leave them merely the choice
of perishing in hopeless resistance or in hopeless endurance.
If history were not entitled to insist that the earnest reader
should accompany her through good and evil days, through landscapes
of winter as well as of spring, the historian might be tempted to shun
the cheerless task of tracing the manifold and yet monotonous turns
of this struggle between superior power and utter weakness, both in
the Spanish provinces already annexed to the Roman empire and in the
African, Hellenic, and Asiatic territories which were still treated
as clients of Rome. But, however unimportant and subordinate the
individual conflicts may appear, they have collectively a deep
historical significance; and, in particular, the state of things
in Italy at this period only becomes intelligible in the light of
the reaction which the provinces exercised over the mother-country.
Spain
Except in the territories which may be regarded as natural appendages
of Italy--in which, however, the natives were still far from being
completely subdued, and, not greatly to the credit of Rome, Ligurians,
Sardinians, and Corsicans were continually furnishing occasion for
"village triumphs"--the formal sovereignty of Rome at the commencement
of this period was established only in the two Spanish provinces,
which embraced the larger eastern and southern portions of the
peninsula beyond the Pyrenees. We have already(1) attempted to
describe the state of matters in the peninsula. Iberians and Celts,
Phoenicians, Hellenes, and Romans were there confusedly intermingled.
The most diverse kinds and stages of civilization subsisted there
simultaneously and at various points crossed each other, the ancient
Iberian culture side by side with utter barbarism, the civilized
relations of Phoenician and Greek mercantile cities side by side with
an incipient process of Latinizing, which was especially promote
by the numerous Italians employed in the silver mines and by the
large standing garrison. In this respect the Roman township of
Italica (near Seville) and the Latin colony of Carteia (on the bay
Of Gibraltar) deserve mention--the latter being the first transmarine
urban community of Latin tongue and Italian constitution. Italica
was founded by the elder Scipio, before he left Spain (548), for
his veterans who were inclined to remain in the peninsula--probably,
however, not as a burgess-community, but merely as a market-place.(2)
Carteia was founded in 583 and owed its existence to the multitude of
camp-children--the offspring of Roman soldiers and Spanish slaves--who
grew up as slaves de jure but as free Italians de facto, and were now
manumitted on behalf of the state and constituted, along with the old
inhabitants of Carteia, into a Latin colony. For nearly thirty years
after the organizing of the province of the Ebro by Tiberius Sempronius
Gracchus (575, 576)(3) the Spanish provinces, on the whole, enjoyed the
blessings of peace undisturbed, although mention is made of one or two
expeditions against the Celtiberians and Lusitanians.
Lusitanian War
But more serious events occurred in 600. The Lusitanians, under the
leadership of a chief called Punicus, invaded the Roman territory,
defeated the two Roman governors who had united to oppose them, and
slew a great number of their troops. The Vettones (between the Tagus
and the Upper Douro) were thereby induced to make common cause with
the Lusitanians; and these, thus reinforced, were enabled to extend
their excursions as far as the Mediterranean, and to pillage even
the territory of the Bastulo-Phoenicians not far from the Roman
capital New Carthage (Cartagena). The Romans at home took the matter
seriously enough to resolve on sending a consul to Spain, a step
which had not been taken since 559; and, in order to accelerate the
despatch of aid, they even made the new consuls enter on office two
months and a half before the legal time. For this reason the day for
the consuls entering on office was shifted from the 15th of March
to the 1st of January; and thus was established the beginning of the
year, which we still make use of at the present day. But, before
the consul Quintus Fulvius Nobilior with his army arrived, a very
serious encounter took place on the right bank of the Tagus between
the praetor Lucius Mummius, governor of Further Spain, and the
Lusitanians, now led after the fall of Punicus by his successor
Caesarus (601). Fortune was at first favourable to the Romans; the
Lusitanian army was broken and their camp was taken. But the Romans,
partly already fatigued by their march and partly broken up in the
disorder of the pursuit, were at length completely beaten by their
already vanquished antagonists, and lost their own camp in addition
to that of the enemy, as well as 9000 dead.
Celtiberian War
The flame of war now blazed up far and wide. The Lusitanians on
the left bank of the Tagus, led by Caucaenus, threw themselves on
the Celtici subject to the Romans (in Alentejo), and took away their
town Conistorgis. The Lusitanians sent the standards taken from
Mummius to the Celtiberians at once as an announcement of victory
and as a warning; and among these, too, there was no want of ferment.
Two small Celtiberian tribes in the neighbourhood of the powerful
Arevacae (about the sources of the Douro and Tagus), the Belli and
the Titthi, had resolved to settle together in Segeda, one of their
towns. While they were occupied in building the walls, the Romans
ordered them to desist, because the Sempronian regulations prohibited
the subject communities from founding towns at their own discretion;
and they at the same time required the contribution of money and men
which was due by treaty but for a considerable period had not been
demanded. The Spaniards refused to obey either command, alleging
that they were engaged merely in enlarging, not in founding, a city,
and that the contribution had not been merely suspended, but
remitted by the Romans. Thereupon Nobilior appeared in Hither
Spain with an army of nearly 30,000 men, including some Numidian
horsemen and ten elephants. The walls of the new town of Segeda
still stood unfinished: most of the inhabitants submitted. But the
most resolute men fled with their wives and children to the powerful
Arevacae, and summoned these to make common cause with them against
the Romans. The Arevacae, emboldened by the victory of the
Lusitanians over Mummius, consented, and chose Carus, one of the
Segedan refugees, as their general. On the third day after his
election the valiant leader had fallen, but the Roman army was
defeated and nearly 6000 Roman burgesses were slain; the 23rd day of
August, the festival of the Volcanalia, was thenceforth held in sad
remembrance by the Romans. The fall of their general, however,
induced the Arevacae to retreat into their strongest town Numantia
(Guarray, a Spanish league to the north of Soria on the Douro),
whither Nobilior followed them. Under the walls of the town a second
engagement took place, in which the Romans at first by means of their
elephants drove the Spaniards back into the town; but while doing
so they were thrown into confusion in consequence of one of the
animals being wounded, and sustained a second defeat at the hands of
the enemy again issuing from the walls. This and other misfortunes--
such as the destruction of a corps of Roman cavalry despatched to
call forth the contingents--imparted to the affairs of the Romans in
the Hither province so unfavourable an aspect that the fortress of
Ocilis, where the Romans had their chest and their stores, passed
over to the enemy, and the Arevacae were in a position to think,
although without success, of dictating peace to the Romans. These
disadvantages, however, were in some measure counterbalanced by the
successes which Mummius achieved in the southern province. Weakened
though his army was by the disaster which it had suffered, he yet
succeeded with it in defeating the Lusitanians who had imprudently
dispersed themselves on the right bank of the Tagus; and passing
over to the left bank, where the Lusitanians had overrun the whole
Roman territory, and had even made a foray into Africa, he cleared
the southern province of the enemy.
Marcellus
To the northern province in the following year (602) the senate sent
considerable reinforcements and a new commander-in-chief in the place
of the incapable Nobilior, the consul Marcus Claudius Marcellus, who
had already, when praetor in 586, distinguished himself in Spain, and
had since that time given proof of his talents as a general in two
consulships. His skilful leadership, and still more his clemency,
speedily changed the position of affairs: Ocilis at once surrendered
to him; and even the Arevacae, confirmed by Marcellus in the hope
that peace would be granted to them on payment of a moderate fine,
concluded an armistice and sent envoys to Rome. Marcellus could thus
proceed to the southern province, where the Vettones and Lusitanians
had professed submission to the praetor Marcus Atilius so long as he
remained within their bounds, but after his departure had immediately
revolted afresh and chastised the allies of Rome. The arrival of
the consul restored tranquillity, and, while he spent the winter
in Corduba, hostilities were suspended throughout the peninsula.
Meanwhile the question of peace with the Arevacae was discussed at
Rome. It is a significant indication of the relations subsisting
among the Spaniards themselves, that the emissaries of the Roman
party subsisting among the Arevacae were the chief occasion of the
rejection of the proposals of peace at Rome, by representing that,
if the Romans were not willing to sacrifice the Spaniards friendly
to their interests, they had no alternative save either to send a
consul with a corresponding army every year to the peninsula or to
make an emphatic example now. In consequence of this, the ambassadors
of the Arevacae were dismissed without a decisive answer, and it was
resolved that the war should be prosecuted with vigour. Marcellus
accordingly found himself compelled in the following spring (603) to
resume the war against the Arevacae. But--either, as was asserted,
from his unwillingness to leave to his successor, who was to be
expected soon, the glory of terminating the war, or, as is perhaps
more probable, from his believing like Gracchus that a humane
treatment of the Spaniards was the first thing requisite for a lasting
peace--the Roman general after holding a secret conference with the
most influential men of the Arevacae concluded a treaty under the
walls of Numantia, by which the Arevacae surrendered to the Romans
at discretion, but were reinstated in their former rights according
to treaty on their undertaking to pay money and furnish hostages.
Lucullus
When the new commander-in-chief, the consul Lucius Lucullus, arrived
at head-quarters, he found the war which he had come to conduct already
terminated by a formally concluded peace, and his hopes of bringing
home honour and more especially money from Spain were apparently
frustrated. But there was a means of surmounting this difficulty.
Lucullus of his own accord attacked the western neighbours of the
Arevacae, the Vaccaei, a Celtiberian nation still independent which
was living on the best understanding with the Romans. The question
of the Spaniards as to what fault they had committed was answered by
a sudden attack on the town of Cauca (Coca, eight Spanish leagues to
the west of Segovia); and, while the terrified town believed that it
had purchased a capitulation by heavy sacrifices of money, Roman
troops marched in and enslaved or slaughtered the inhabitants without
any pretext at all. After this heroic feat, which is said to have
cost the lives of some 20,000 defenceless men,
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Masterpieces in Colour
Edited by--T. Leman Hare
GREUZE
1725-1805
* * * * * *
"MASTERPIECES IN COLOUR" SERIES
ARTIST. AUTHOR.
BELLINI. GEORGE HAY.
BOTTICELLI. HENRY B. BINNS.
BOUCHER. C. HALDANE MACFALL.
BURNE-JONES. A. LYS BALDRY.
CARLO DOLCI. GEORGE HAY.
CHARDIN. PAUL G. KONODY.
CONSTABLE. C. LEWIS HIND.
COROT. SIDNEY ALLNUTT.
DA VINCI. M. W. BROCKWELL.
DELACROIX. PAUL G. KONODY.
DUERER. H. E. A. FURST.
FRA ANGELICO. JAMES MASON.
FRA FILIPPO LIPPI. PAUL G. KONODY.
FRAGONARD. C. HALDANE MACFALL.
FRANZ HALS. EDGCUMBE STALEY.
GAINSBOROUGH. MAX ROTHSCHILD.
GREUZE. ALYS EYRE MACKLIN.
HOGARTH. C. LEWIS HIND.
HOLBEIN. S. L. BENSUSAN.
HOLMAN HUNT. MARY E. COLERIDGE.
INGRES. A. J. FINBERG.
LAWRENCE. S. L. BENSUSAN.
LE BRUN, VIGEE. C. HALDANE MACFALL.
LEIGHTON. A. LYS BALDRY.
LUINI. JAMES MASON.
MANTEGNA. MRS. ARTHUR BELL.
MEMLINC. W. H. J. & J. C. WEALE.
MILLAIS. A. LYS BALDRY.
MILLET. PERCY M. TURNER.
MURILLO. S. L. BENSUSAN.
PERUGINO. SELWYN BRINTON.
RAEBURN. JAMES L. CAW.
RAPHAEL. PAUL G. KONODY.
REMBRANDT. JOSEF ISRAELS.
REYNOLDS. S. L. BENSUSAN.
ROMNEY. C. LEWIS HIND.
ROSSETTI. LUCIEN PISSARRO.
RUBENS. S. L. BENSUSAN.
SARGENT. T. MARTIN WOOD.
TINTORETTO. S. L. BENSUSAN.
TITIAN. S. L. BENSUSAN.
TURNER. C. LEWIS HIND.
VAN DYCK. PERCY M. TURNER.
VAN EYCK. J. CYRIL M. WEALE.
VELAZQUEZ. S. L. BENSUSAN.
WATTEAU. C. LEWIS HIND.
WATTS. W. LOFTUS HARE.
WHISTLER. T. MARTIN WOOD.
_Others in Preparation._
* * * * * *
[Illustration: PLATE I.--L'ACCORDEE DU VILLAGE. (Frontispiece)
This picture, at first entitled "A Father handing over the
Marriage-portion of his Daughter," then "The Village Bride," is
the best of Greuze's subject pictures. The scene is more or less
naturally arranged, and informed with the tender homely sentiment
inspired by the subject; and the bride, with her fresh young face
and modest attitude, is a delicious figure. It was exhibited in the
Salon of 1761, and now hangs in the Louvre.]
GREUZE
by
ALYS EYRE MACKLIN
Illustrated with Eight Reproductions in Colour
[Illustration: IN SEMPITERNUM.]
London: T. C. & E. C. Jack
New York: Frederick A. Stokes Co.
CONTENTS
Chap. Page
I. Early Days and First Success 11
II. The Times in which Greuze Lived 20
III. Greuze's Moral Pictures 27
IV. The Pictures by which we know Greuze 35
V. The Vanity of Greuze 44
VI. "The Broken Pitcher" and other well-known Pictures 52
VII. Ruin and Death 62
VIII. The Art of Greuze 71
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Plate
I. L'Accordee du Village Frontispiece
In the Louvre
Page
II. L'Innocence tenant deux Pigeons 14
In the Wallace Collection
III. La Malediction paternelle 24
In the Louvre
IV. Portrait d'Homme 34
In the Louvre
V. L'Oiseau Mort 40
In the Louvre
VI. Les Deux Soeurs 50
In the Louvre
VII. La Cruche Cassee 60
In the Louvre
VIII. La Laitiere 70
In the Louvre
CHAPTER I
EARLY DAYS AND FIRST SUCCESS
Few names suggest so much beauty as that of Greuze.
"Greuze"--"a Greuze"--you have only to hear the word and there rises
before your mental vision a radiant procession of maidens each
lovelier than the last, with the blue of a spring sky in their
shining eyes, rosy blood flushing delicate cheeks, soft silken hair
escaping in gold-touched curls at temples where the blue veins show,
lips like dewy carnations, rounded necks and curving bosoms that
suggest all the sweets of June. A veritable "garden of girls" in the
first fresh bloom of budding womanhood; and they come to you not so
much as painted pictures as delicate visions breathed on canvas from
which they might at any moment tremble into pulsing life.
Yet the Greuze to whom we owe this exquisite series was first known as
the painter of pictures of a very different kind. Before speaking of
these let us begin at the beginning, by seeing when and under what
conditions the child who was to become the poet-painter of a certain
type of womanhood first saw the world he was destined to enrich.
Born at Tournus, a little town near Macon in France, on August 21,
1725, the early life of Jean Baptiste Greuze curiously resembles in
its broad lines those of many other well-known artists. His parents
were humble people who lived in the tiny house at Tournus, now
decorated with a commemorative plaque; the father an overman slater;
and the godparents, who play such an important part in the life of the
French child, respectively a slater and a baker. The father seems to
have been ambitious, for he resolved to take his son into an evidently
expanding business, not as a workman, but as architect. At the usual
early age, however, the child's vocation declared itself. It was in
vain the father, alarmed by symptoms that threatened to disarrange his
plans, took materials from him and then whipped him for making
pictures all over the walls--anywhere, everywhere. The boy cared for
nothing but drawing of a kind that did not fall in with the cherished
architectural idea, and after many struggles he won the day by giving
his father for a birthday present a pen-and-ink drawing of the head of
St. James, well enough done to be at first mistaken for an engraving.
This had been copied at nights when he was supposed to be asleep, and
touched and convinced, the father finally gave in and sent him off to
Lyons to learn the business in the studio of the painter Grandon.
[Illustration: PLATE II.--L'INNOCENCE TENANT DEUX PIGEONS
"L'Innocence tenant deux Pigeons," or "Innocence holding two
Pigeons," is a typical example of the eyes Greuze never tired of
painting, large innocent orbs with a sparkle that suggests the
morning sun on flowers wet with dew. The moist half-open lips
you also find in most of his girl-heads. The lovely colour
scheme is particularly happy even for Greuze. The original is in
the Wallace Collection, London.]
The term "learn the business" is used advisedly. Grandon's studio was
more a manufactory of pictures than anything else, and was just as bad
a school as a young artist could well have. Pictures were copied,
recopied, and adapted, turned out for all the world as Jean Baptiste's
godmother turned the loaves out of her oven; and while the boy learnt
the use of colours, and some drawing, he also learnt that facility
which is the deadly enemy of art, artifice rather than invention, to
copy rather than to create--weaknesses which beset him ever
afterwards.
It was natural that, when manhood was arrived at, Greuze should yield
to the inevitable law that draws exceptional talent to great centres.
When he was about twenty he left Lyons, and with very little capital
but his abilities, his blonde beauty, and a large stock of
self-satisfaction, he set out gaily to make his fortune in Paris.
The story of the first ten years there is also the conventional one of
early artist days, the old tale of stress and struggle, of bitter
disappointments alternating with brilliant hopes and small
achievements. Young Greuze was too personal and faulty in his work to
please the Academy, not strong enough yet to convince any advanced
movement there might be, and he divided ten trying years between a
little study at the Academy and a great deal of painting the
pot-boilers he had learnt to make at Lyons. At last his work attracted
the attention and gained for him the friendship of two well-known
artists, Sylvestre, and Pigalle, the King's sculptor, and they were
instrumental in his being able to exhibit in the Academy of 1755, when
he was thirty years old, the picture which brought him his first
success, "Un Pere qui lit la Bible a ses Enfants."
This picture shows the living room of a raftered cottage, with the old
father sitting at a table round which are gathered his six sons and
daughters. One of his large, horny hands is on the open Bible before
him, the other holds the spectacles he has taken off as he stops to
explain the passage he has been reading. The children listen
respectfully, some attentively, the others with an air of being
absorbed in their own reflections, while the mother, sitting near,
stops her spinning to tell the baby on the floor not to tease the dog.
It is not well painted. Except that it shows a picturesque interior
and expresses the sentiment of piety in the home it is intended to
convey, it has but little merit, is, indeed, so mediocre that you
wonder why, far from bringing fame to the young man, it should have
been noticed at all.
To understand its success, and the still greater success of similar
pictures which followed, you must glance at the epoch of its
production.
CHAPTER II
THE TIMES IN WHICH GREUZE LIVED
It was that period of the eighteenth century before the Revolution
when society was at its worst, the paints and powders that covered its
face, the scents which over-perfumed its body, its manners artificial
as the antics of marionettes, being emblematic of its state of mind.
Society was, in short, so corrupt it could not become any more so, and
at length, weary of the search for a new sensation, there was nothing
for it but a sudden rebound to some sort of morality.
Opportunist philosophers appeared quickly on the scene, and began to
preach the pleasant doctrine that man was born very good, full of
honesty and good feeling, running over with generosity and all the
virtues, and if he did not keep so, it was because the miserable
conventions of society had drawn him from the original perfection of
his state. To find virtue you must look among those of humble estate,
the poor who thought of nothing but their work and the bringing up of
their large families. Away, then, from social life and its
corruptions, return to the simple ways of the lowly and needy--thus
and thus only could France be regenerated!
The aristocratic victims of their caste drank all this in eagerly, and
their exaggerated efforts to follow the new cult of simplicity made
the bitter-tongued Voltaire describe them as "mad with the desire to
walk on their hands and feet, so as to imitate as nearly as possible
their virtuous ancestors of the woods."
Diderot, whose sudden burning enthusiasms and throbbing eloquence
would have carried away his hearers in spite of themselves if they
had not been only too eager to listen, was the great apostle of the
new doctrine, and, always in extremes, he boldly dragged his moral
theories into even the realm of art.
"To render virtue charming and vice odious ought to be the object of
every honest man who wields a pen, a paint-brush, or the sculptor's
chisel," he declared.
The vivid intelligence of Greuze seized the position, and sure of at
least attracting attention if nothing else, he set to work to paint
some scene which would fall in with the prevalent "debauch of morals,"
as some one called it. Thus, "Le Pere qui lit la Bible a ses Enfants"
appeared at that psychological moment which does so much to ensure
success. Further, it came as a refreshing change to a public weary of
the pleasant insipidities of Boucher, of a long-continued series of
pale pastorals showing the doubtful pleasures of light love. It was,
moreover, a novelty, for no one had painted such subjects before in
France.
[Illustration: PLATE III.--LA MALEDICTION PATERNELLE
"La Malediction paternelle," or "The Father's Curse," is in the
Louvre, and is one of the best known of Greuze's moral pictures.
It is one of his worst productions. Observe the theatrical
attitudes and gestures, the too carefully arranged draperies,
etc., of the actors in this exaggerated scene, which in real
life would pass in formless disorder and rough confusion.]
And so more than the expected happened. From the day of its exhibition
till the Salon was closed, it was surrounded by admiring crowds, and
every one said, "Who is this
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FIAT MONEY INFLATION IN FRANCE
How It Came, What It Brought, and How It Ended
by Andrew Dickson White, LL.D., Ph.D., D.C.L.
Late President and Professor of History at Cornell University; Sometime
United States Minister to Russia and Ambassador to Germany; Author of "A
History of the Warfare of Science with Theology," etc.
INTRODUCTION
As far back as just before our Civil War I made, in France and
elsewhere, a large collection of documents which had appeared during the
French Revolution, including newspapers, reports, speeches, pamphlets,
illustrative material of every sort, and, especially, specimens of
nearly all the Revolutionary issues of paper money,--from notes of ten
thousand _livres_ to those of one _sou_.
Upon this material, mainly, was based a course of lectures then given
to my students, first at the University of Michigan and later at Cornell
University, and among these lectures, one on "Paper Money Inflation in
France."
This was given simply because it showed one important line of facts in
that great struggle; and I recall, as if it were yesterday, my feeling
of regret at being obliged to bestow so much care and labor upon a
subject to all appearance so utterly devoid of practical value. I
am sure that it never occurred, either to my Michigan students or to
myself, that it could ever have any bearing on our own country. It
certainly never entered into our minds that any such folly as that
exhibited in those French documents of the eighteenth century could ever
find supporters in the United States of the nineteenth.
Some years later, when there began to be demands for large issues of
paper money in the United States, I wrought some of the facts thus
collected into a speech in the Senate of the State of New York, showing
the need of especial care in such dealings with financial necessities.
In 1876, during the "greenback craze," General Garfield and Mr. S. B.
Crittenden, both members of the House of Representatives at that time,
asked me to read a paper on the same general subject before an audience
of Senators and Representatives of both parties in Washington. This I
did, and also gave it later before an assemblage of men of business at
the Union League Club in New York.
Various editions of the paper were afterward published, among them, two
or three for campaign purposes, in the hope that they might be of use
in showing to what folly, cruelty, wrong and rain the passion for "fiat
money" may lead.
Other editions were issued at a later period, in view of the principle
involved in the proposed unlimited coinage of silver in the United
States, which was, at bottom, the idea which led to that fearful wreck
of public and private prosperity in France.
For these editions there was an added reason in the fact that the
utterances of sundry politicians at that time pointed clearly to issues
of paper money practically unlimited. These men were logical enough
to see that it would be inconsistent to stop at the unlimited issue
of silver dollars which cost really something when they could issue
unlimited paper dollars which virtually cost nothing.
In thus exhibiting facts which Bishop Butler would have recognized as
confirming his theory of "The Possible Insanity of States," it is but
just to acknowledge that the French proposal was vastly more sane than
that made in our own country. Those French issues of paper rested not
merely "on the will of a free people," but on one-third of the entire
landed property of France; on the very choicest of real property in city
and country--the confiscated estates of the Church and of the fugitive
aristocracy--and on the power to use the paper thus issued in purchasing
this real property at very low prices.
I have taken all pains to be exact, revising the whole paper in the
light of the most recent publications and giving my authority for every
important statement, and now leave the whole matter with my readers.
At the request of a Canadian friend, who has expressed a strong wish
that this work be brought down to date, I have again restudied the
subject in the light of various works which have appeared since
my earlier research,--especially Levasseur's "Histoire des classes
ouvrieres et de l'industrie en France,"--one of the really great books
of the twentieth century;--Dewarmin's superb "Cent Ans de numismatique
Francaise" and sundry special treatises. The result has been that
large additions have been made regarding some important topics, and
that various other parts of my earlier work have been made more clear by
better arrangement and supplementary information.
ANDREW D. WHITE. Cornell University, September, 1912.
FOREWORD BY MR. JOHN MACKAY
I am greatly indebted to the generosity of Mr. Andrew D. White, the
distinguished American scholar, author and diplomatist, for permission
to print and to circulate privately a small edition of his exceedingly
valuable account of the great currency-making experiment of the French
Revolutionary Government. The work has been revised and considerably
enlarged by Mr. White for the purpose of the present issue.
The story of "Fiat Money Inflation in France" is one of great interest
to legislators, to economic students, and to all business and thinking
men. It records the most gigantic attempt ever made in the history of
the world by a government to create an inconvertible paper currency, and
to maintain its circulation at various levels of value. It also records
what is perhaps the greatest of all governmental efforts--with the
possible exception of Diocletian's
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[Illustration: _LEO'S FIRST APPEARANCE_]
LEO THE CIRCUS BOY;
or
LIFE UNDER THE GREAT WHITE CANVAS
BY CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL,
Author of "The Young Oarsmen of Lakeview," "The Rival
Bicyclists," "Gun and Sled," etc., etc.
CHICAGO:
_M. A. Donohue_ & Co.
_Copyright_, 1897.
_BY_
_W. L. Allison_ Co.
CONTENTS
- CHAPTER I.--A ROW AND ITS RESULT.
- CHAPTER II.--CAPTURING A RUNAWAY LION.
- CHAPTER III.--LEO LEAVES THE FARM.
- CHAPTER IV.--LEO JOINS THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH.
- CHAPTER V.--A LEAP OF GREAT PERIL.
- CHAPTER VI.--LEO ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS.
- CHAPTER VII.--LEO GAINS HIS LIBERTY.
- CHAPTER VIII.--AMONG THE CLOUDS IN A THUNDERSTORM.
- CHAPTER IX.--THE MAD ELEPHANT.
- CHAPTER X.--CAPTURING THE ELEPHANT.
- CHAPTER XI.--A CRIMINAL COMPACT.
- CHAPTER XII.--THE STOLEN CIRCUS TICKETS.
- CHAPTER XIII.--LEO MAKES A CHANGE.
- CHAPTER XIV.--LEO MAKES A NEW FRIEND.
- CHAPTER XV.--AN ACT NOT ON THE BILLS.
- CHAPTER XVI.--AN UNPLEASANT POSITION.
- CHAPTER XVII.--CARL SHOWS HIS BRAVERY.
- CHAPTER XVIII.--A WONDERFUL TRICK EXPLAINED.
- CHAPTER XIX.--WAMPOLE'S NEW SCHEME
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Standard Library Edition
AMERICAN STATESMEN
EDITED BY
JOHN T. MORSE, JR.
IN THIRTY-TWO VOLUMES
VOL. XVIII.
DOMESTIC POLITICS: THE TARIFF
AND SLAVERY
MARTIN VAN BUREN
[Illustration: M. Van Buren]
American Statesmen
STANDARD LIBRARY EDITION
[Illustration: The Home of Martin Van Buren]
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
American Statesmen
MARTIN VAN BUREN
BY
EDWARD M. SHEPARD
[Illustration]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1899
Copyright, 1888 and 1899,
BY EDWARD M. SHEPARD.
Copyright, 1899,
BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
_All rights reserved._
PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION
Since 1888, when this Life was originally published, the history of
American Politics has been greatly enriched. The painstaking and candid
labors of Mr. Fiske, Mr. Adams, Mr. Rhodes, and others have gone far to
render unnecessary the _caveat_ I then entered against the unfairness,
or at least the narrowness, of the temper with which Van Buren, or the
school to which he belonged, had thus far been treated in American
literature, and which had prejudicially misled me before I began my
work. Such a _caveat_ is no longer necessary. Even now, when the
political creed of which Jefferson, Van Buren, and Tilden have been
chief apostles in our land, seems to suffer some degree of
eclipse,--only temporary, it may well be believed, but nevertheless
real,--those who, like myself, have undertaken to present the careers of
great Americans who held this faith need not fear injustice or prejudice
in the field of American literature.
In this revised edition I have made a few corrections and added a few
notes; but the generous treatment which has been given to the book has
confirmed my belief that historic truth requires no material change.
A passage from the diary of Charles Jared Ingersoll (Life by William M.
Meigs, 1897) tempts me, in this most conspicuous place of the book, to
emphasize my observation upon one injustice often done to Van Buren.
Referring, on May 6, 1844, to his letter, then just published, against
the annexation of Texas, Mr. Ingersoll declared that, in view of the
fact that nearly all of Van Buren's admirers and most of the Democratic
press were committed to the annexation, Van Buren had committed a great
blunder and become _felo de se_. The assumption here is that Van Buren
was a politician of the type so painfully familiar to us, whose sole and
conscienceless effort is to find out what is to be popular for the time,
in order, for their own profit, to take that side. That Van Buren was
politic there can be no doubt. But he was politic after the fashion of a
statesman and not of a demagogue. He disliked to commit himself upon
issues which had not been fully discussed, which were not ripe for
practical solution by popular vote, and which did not yet need to be
decided. Mr. Ingersoll should have known that the direct and simple
explanation was the true one,--that Van Buren knew the risk and meant to
take it. His letter against the annexation of Texas, written when he
knew that it would probably defeat him for the presidency, was but one
of several acts performed by him at critical periods, wherein he
deliberately took what seemed the unpopular side in order to be true to
his sense of political and patriotic duty. The crucial tests of this
kind through which he successfully passed must, beyond any doubt, put
him in the very first rank of those American statesmen who have had the
rare union of political foresight and moral courage.
EDWARD M. SHEPARD.
January, 1899.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. AMERICAN POLITICS WHEN VAN BUREN'S CAREER BEGAN.--
JEFFERSON'S INFLUENCE 1
II. EARLY YEARS.--PROFESSIONAL LIFE 14
III. STATE SENATOR: ATTORNEY-GENERAL: MEMBER OF THE
CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION 38
IV. UNITED STATES SENATOR.--REESTABLISHMENT OF
PARTIES.--PARTY LEADERSHIP 88
V. DEMOCRATIC VICTORY IN 1828.--GOVERNOR 153
VI. SECRETARY OF STATE.--DEFINITE FORMATION OF THE
DEMOCRATIC CREED 177
VII. MINISTER TO ENGLAND.--VICE-PRESIDENT.--ELECTION
TO THE PRESIDENCY 223
VIII. CRISIS OF 1837 282
IX. PRESIDENT.--SUB-TREASURY BILL 325
X. PRESIDENT.--CANADIAN INSURRECTION.--TEXAS.--SEMINOLE
WAR.--DEFEAT FOR REELECTION 350
XI. EX-PRESIDENT.--SLAVERY.--TEXAS ANNEXATION.--DEFEAT
BY THE SOUTH.--FREE SOIL CAMPAIGN.--LAST YEARS 398
XII. VAN BUREN'S CHARACTER AND PLACE
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[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
entire meal of them. D.W.]
THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Vol. 3
[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]
Dublin
MDCCCXXXIX.
Volume 3. (Chapter XVIII-XXIII)
Contents:
CHAPTER XVIII
Detachment Duty--An Assize Town
CHAPTER XIX
The Assize Town
CHAPTER XX
A Day in Dublin
CHAPTER XXI
A Night at Howth
CHAPTER XXII
The Journey
CHAPTER XXIII
Calais
CHAPTER XVIII.
DETACHMENT DUTY--AN ASSIZE TOWN.
As there appeared to be but little prospect of poor Fitzgerald ever
requiring any explanation from me as to the events of that morning, for
he feared to venture from his room, lest he might be recognised and
prosecuted for abduction, I thought it better to keep my own secret also;
and it was therefore with a feeling of any thing but regret, that I
received an order which, under other circumstances, would have rendered
me miserable--to march on detachment duty. To any one at all conversant
with the life we lead in the army, I need not say how unpleasant such a
change usually is. To surrender your capital mess, with all its
well-appointed equipments--your jovial brother officers--hourly
flirtations with the whole female population--never a deficient one in a
garrison town--not to speak of your matches at trotting, coursing, and
pigeon-shooting, and a hundred other delectable modes of getting over
the ground through life, till it please your ungrateful country and the
Horse Guards to make you a major-general--to surrender all these, I say,
for the noise, dust, and damp disagreeables of a country inn, with bacon
to eat, whiskey to drink, and the priest, or the constabulary chief, to
get drunk with--I speak of Ireland here--and your only affair, par
amours, being the occasional ogling of the apothecary's daughter
opposite, as often as she visits the shop, in the soi disant occupation
of measuring out garden seeds and senna. These are indeed, the
exchanges with a difference, for which there is no compensation; and,
for my own part, I never went upon such duty, that I did not exclaim
with the honest Irishman, when the mail went over him, "Oh, Lord! what
is this for?"--firmly believing that in the earthly purgatory of such
duties, I was reaping the heavy retribution attendant on past offences.
Besides, from being rather a crack man in my corps, I thought it somewhat
hard that my turn for such duty should come round about twice as often as
that of my brother officers; but so it is--I never knew a fellow a little
smarter than his neighbours, that was not pounced upon by his colonel for
a victim. Now, however, I looked at these matters in a very different
light. To leave head-quarters was to escape being questioned; while
there was scarcely any post to which I could be sent, where something
strange or adventurous might not turn up, and serve me to erase the
memory of the past, and turn the attention of my companions in any
quarter rather than towards myself.
My orders on the present occasion were to march to Clonmel; from whence I
was to proceed a short distance to the house of a magistrate, upon whose
information, transmitted to the Chief Secretary, the present assistance
of a military party had been obtained; and not without every appearance
of reason. The assizes of the town were about to be held, and many
capital offences stood for trial in the calendar; and as it was strongly
rumoured that, in the event of certain convictions being obtained, a
rescue would be attempted, a general attack upon the town seemed a too
natural consequence; and if so, the house of so obnoxious a person as him
I have
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[Illustration: "_Suddenly he rushed at her and caught her by the arm_"]
THE INTERNATIONAL
ADVENTURE LIBRARY
THREE OWLS EDITION
THE CONFESSIONS
OF ARSENE LUPIN
An Adventure Story
BY
MAURICE LEBLANC
Author of "Arsene Lupin"
W. R. CALDWELL & CO.
NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1912, 1913, by_
Maurice Leblanc
_All rights reserved, including that of
translation into foreign languages,
including the Scandinavian_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND FRANCS REWARD! 1
II. THE WEDDING-RING 36
III. THE SIGN OF THE SHADOW 66
IV. THE INFERNAL TRAP 101
V. THE RED SILK SCARF 138
VI. SHADOWED BY DEATH 177
VII. A TRAGEDY IN THE FOREST OF MORGUES 210
VIII. LUPIN'S MARRIAGE 228
IX. THE INVISIBLE PRISONER 266
X. EDITH SWAN-NECK 291
THE CONFESSIONS OF ARSENE LUPIN
THE CONFESSIONS OF ARSENE LUPIN
I
TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND FRANCS REWARD!...
"Lupin," I said, "tell me something about yourself."
"Why, what would you have me tell you? Everybody knows my life!" replied
Lupin, who lay drowsing on the sofa in my study.
"Nobody knows it!" I protested. "People know from your letters in the
newspapers that you were mixed up in this case, that you started that
case. But the part which you played in it all, the plain facts of the
story, the upshot of the mystery: these are things of which they know
nothing."
"Pooh! A heap of uninteresting twaddle!"
"What! Your present of fifty thousand francs to Nicolas Dugrival's wife!
Do you call that uninteresting? And what about the way in which you
solved the puzzle of the three pictures?"
Lupin laughed:
"Yes, that was a queer puzzle, certainly. I can suggest a title for you
if you like: what do you say to _The Sign of the Shadow_?"
"And your successes in society and with the fair sex?" I continued. "The
dashing Arsene's love-affairs!... And the clue to your good actions?
Those chapters in your life to which you have so often alluded under the
names of _The Wedding-ring_, _Shadowed by Death_, and so on!... Why
delay these confidences and confessions, my dear Lupin?... Come, do what
I ask you!..."
It was at the time when Lupin, though already famous, had not yet fought
his biggest battles; the time that preceded the great adventures of _The
Hollow Needle_ and _813_. He had not yet dreamt of annexing the
accumulated treasures of the French Royal House[A] nor of changing the
map of Europe under the Kaiser's nose[B]: he contented himself with
milder surprises and humbler profits, making his daily effort, doing
evil from day to day and doing a little good as well, naturally and for
the love of the thing, like a whimsical and compassionate Don Quixote.
[A] _The Hollow Needle._ By Maurice Leblanc. Translated by Alexander
Teixeira de Mattos (Eveleigh Nash).
[B] _813._ By Maurice Leblanc. Translated by Alexander Teixeira de
Mattos (Mills & Boon).
He was silent; and I insisted:
"Lupin, I wish you would!"
To my astonishment, he replied:
"Take a sheet of paper, old fellow, and a pencil."
I obeyed with alacrity, delighted at the thought that he at last meant
to dictate to me some of those pages which he knows how to clothe with
such vigour and fancy, pages which I, unfortunately, am obliged to spoil
with tedious explanations and boring developments.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Quite."
"Write down, 20, 1, 11, 5, 14, 15."
"What?"
"Write it down, I tell you."
He was now sitting up, with his eyes turned to the open window and his
fingers rolling a Turkish cigarette. He continued:
"Write down, 21, 14, 14, 5...."
He stopped. Then he went on:
"3, 5, 19, 19..."
And, after a pause:
"5, 18,
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E-text prepared by D Alexander and the Project Gutenberg Online
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Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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See 32253-h.htm or 32253-h.zip:
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Images of the original pages are available through
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http://www.archive.org/details/frontierboysinsi00roosrich
THE FRONTIER BOYS IN THE SIERRAS
Or
The Lost Mine
by
CAPT. WYN ROOSEVELT
Illustrated by S. Schneider
New York
A. L. Chatterton Company
Publishers
+-------------------------------------+
| |
| By the same Author |
| |
| FRONTIER BOYS ON THE OVERLAND TRAIL |
| FRONTIER BOYS IN COLORADO |
| FRONTIER BOYS IN THE ROCKIES |
| FRONTIER BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON |
| FRONTIER BOYS IN MEXICO |
| FRONTIER BOYS ON THE COAST |
| FRONTIER BOYS IN HAWAII |
| FRONTIER BOYS IN THE SIERRAS |
| FRONTIER BOYS IN THE SADDLE |
| |
+-------------------------------------+
Copyright 1909
Chatterton-Peck Co.
[Illustration: "THE MEXICAN HAD GOT ALMOST WITHIN STRIKING
DISTANCE."--P. 179.]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. IN THE CHANNEL 9
II. FAREWELL TO HAWAII 17
III. JEEMS' STORY 25
IV. THE LOST MINE 33
V. WORKING THE SHIP 41
VI. DANGEROUS WORK 49
VII. WHAT THEY SAW 57
VIII. A RACE 66
IX. THE ENGINEER 75
X. THE RUSSIAN 85
XI. A CONSPIRACY 94
XII. THE GREEN GHOSTS 103
XIII. TOM'S BAD LUCK 112
XIV. THE TRIAL 121
XV. "THE MARIA CROTHERS" 130
XVI. AN EXCITING CHARGE 140
XVII. A CHASE 148
XVIII. THE DIAGRAM 157
XIX. THE CAMP IN THE VALLEY 167
XX. A SURPRISE 176
XXI. THE GREASER 185
XXII. HAIL 192
XXIII. A HOLIDAY 202
XXIV. BIG GUS AND HIS GANG 209
XXV. A NEW FORT 215
XXVI. A NIGHT ATTACK 222
XXVII. THE RETREAT 229
XXVIII. A NEW START 237
XXIX. THE SEARCH 244
XXX. THE LOST MINE AGAIN 251
The Frontier Boys in the
Sierras
CHAPTER I
IN THE CHANNEL
"By Jove, Jim!" exclaimed Jo Darlington, "but this sea is something
fierce! For one I will be mighty glad when we get clear of the
Hawaiian channels and out into the open."
"It is lively going," yelled Jim, above the roar of the wind, as he
and his brother Jo were standing together on the bridge of their ship,
"but I guess the _Sea Eagle_ will weather it, if we don't run into
another vessel in the dark. How about it, Captain?"
The captain, who was the rather bent figure of an old man, was clothed
in a heavy woolen jacket, buttoned across his chest. He stopped and
regarded Jim fixedly in the semi-light on the bridge.
"What's that, Skipper?" he roared hoarsely, "weather this? Why, this
ain't no sea, and the _Sea Eagle_ is a staunch boat. Why, lad, you
must be joking."
"I was," replied Jim, laughing. "I just want to reassure brother
Jo,--that was all."
"Somebody ought to go and cheer up Tom and Jeems Howell," remarked Jo,
in order to give himself some sea standing in the eyes of Captain
Kerns. "They are as sick as puppies down in the cabin."
"Don't blame 'em much," cried Jim, "this motion would upset a shark's
liver."
If you have read "The Frontier Boys in Hawaii," you will be well
acquainted with these conversationalists on the good sea-going yacht,
the _Sea Eagle_, but if not, you will have to be introduced, "Mr.
Reader, this is Skipper James Darlington."
"Happy to make your acquaintance, hope you are a good sailor?"
"Mr. Reader, allow me to present Captain Kerns."
Captain Kerns merely grunts, and, kind Mr. Reader, you must overlook
his lack of formality, because the captain is an old salt and his
manners are a little briny.
In way of further explanation, I may say that the Frontier Boys are
just returning from a trip to Hawaii in which they have explored the
wonderful crater of Haleapala on the Island of Maui, and their ship
the _Sea Eagle_, whose capture is another story, is pointing her prow
eastward through the rough channel that separates Hawaii and Maui.
They are en route to the coast of California, and as soon as they
land they have planned to make an exploring expedition into the
wilds of The Sierra Nevadas, in search of a lost mine, rumors of which
have come to their ears. Besides the three Frontier Boys and their
comrade Juarez, there is their friend Jeems Howell, a shepherd and
philosopher, from a small island off the coast of California; Captain
Kerns, a retired ship's master who was persuaded to come along merely
to supervise; Jim, the oldest of the three brothers, being the acting
commander, though generally referred to as skipper. And besides these,
there is old Pete, an ancient mariner, the engineer, and a sturdy boy
below who does a good deal of the stoking.
Besides these _dramatis personae_, there is a general chorus of
Mermen and Mermaids, sharks, porpoises, sea serpents _et al._; as Jo
Darlington would say, it was the sharks that _et all_. But this is no
reflection upon the appetites of the boys, which was invariably good,
if we may except Tom Darlington and Jeems Howell just at the present
moment.
Now, on with the voyage: as the principals have been introduced and
are ready, they can come to close grips with the ocean and all its
dangers, so that the referee, being the writer, has made his exit
through the ropes, allowing a free field and no favor. It is a tough
beginning as far as sea way goes. The hour is close upon midnight in
mid-channel, and that is no dream even on so staunch a little craft as
the _Sea Eagle_.
"That time she lapped the starboard boat into the water," yelled Jim.
"Hold steady now, lads."
Then up rose the ship on the other roll to larboard; over, over, over
she went; would she never stop? Then with a straining of all her
timbers, that had all the effort of severe muscular tension, she did
stop, then back she rolled on the other tack which was equally as
sharp, the brass balls on top of her masts pointing from star to star,
describing, it seemed, almost a semi-circle.
To make it more interesting the _Sea Eagle_ would then dip under a
huge wave and the water would swish and roll aft along the main deck.
The wind whistled and hummed through the taut ropes, and altogether it
was a lively night, even if the sturdy old captain did discount its
terrors. Occasionally Jim and Jo would slide across the bridge and
bring up against the side; but as a rule they kept their sea legs in
good shape.
"Hold on, Juarez," cried Jim, as he saw a dark form emerge from the
companionway, "here comes a big wave."
But with the roar of the sea and the wind Juarez did not hear the
warning, and had just started across the deck when under went the _Sea
Eagle_, and a tremendous wave swept aft, submerging the bulwarks. It
caught Juarez off his feet and swirled him toward the side. He would
not have lived a minute in those rearing, plunging seas.
As he was swept over, he caught frantically at an iron stanchion and
barely gripped it, and before he could make an effort to help himself
he was submerged in the water, the sea tugging at him as though it
were an hungry animal. Hardy as Juarez was, he could not help but feel
a thrill of terror; it seemed as if the waves desperately clutched at
him.
Jim was filled with horror when he saw Juarez apparently carried
overboard. He shook off the captain's grip; the latter thought that
Jim was going to spring over after his friend, which act he knew would
result in two lives being thrown away. So he leaped to the main deck.
Then he saw Juarez struggling to get aboard before the next wave
came. He sprang to his help and with a powerful pull yanked him in.
They braced themselves against the attack of a second wave that swept
the deck and then they were "high and dry" on the bridge, drenched to
the skin, but entirely safe, and none the worse for their impromptu
bath.
"That was a close call, Juarez," said Jo sympathetically.
"Another call like that and I won't be tu hum," replied Juarez with a
grin.
"Next time take a look for'ard, lad," said the captain, who had joined
the group in the shelter of the deck house; "we could never have
picked you up on a dark night like this." Then he went back to his
station on the bridge. The hardy old sailor would never have dreamed
of making much ado about any accident no matter how serious. If the
party came through alive, that was sufficient to show that it was not
very bad. The Frontier Boys, too, had absorbed a good deal of that
philosophy in the course of many dangers which they had so fortunately
outlived.
When daylight came, the _Sea Eagle_ had battered her way through the
rough channel, its waters tortured by rapid currents and terrific
cross seas, and was now pitching along the windward coast of the big
Island of Hawaii, with its twin volcanic summits nearly fourteen
thousand feet in height. It was not smooth going yet by any means, but
better than during the night.
"Get up, Tom, and look at the scenery." It was Jim's cheerful voice,
addressed to Tom, who lay pale and rather wan in his bunk.
"I've got no use for scenery," growled Tom, "unless I can get close
enough to it to put my foot on it. I want something solid."
"How would a beefsteak do, Tom?" It was Jo, who was looking over Jim's
shoulder. At the mention of food, Tom seemed endowed with sudden
energy and reached down, and grabbing up a shoe, hurled it at the two
in the doorway. They ducked and the missile barely grazed the beard of
the old captain, who was coming aft, and then it went overboard.
"By Thundas!" he exclaimed, opening his eyes wide with surprise, "who
kicked that?"
"Tom threw it, sir," said Jim with a burst of laughter he could not
control, at sight of the captain's astonished visage, "but he meant it
for us, because we were guying him."
"I'll forgive him on account of his intentions," grinned the captain.
"I only wish he had swatted you."
Tom was much relieved to hear this expression of opinion on the part
of the captain, of whom he stood in considerable awe. From fright to
relief was such a revulsion of feeling that Tom forgot to be sea-sick,
and he began to mend from that moment, so that he was able to be
present for duty when breakfast was served.
"I thought you were sick abed," remarked Jim, opening his eyes with
surprise.
"I was," replied Tom, "until I threw up that shoe, now I feel fine and
fit to eat a square meal."
CHAPTER II
FAREWELL TO HAWAII
Jeems Howell was the only one of the hardy Frontier group who was
unable to be present at breakfast that fine morning.
"How are you feeling, Jeems," inquired Jo, looking in upon the
sufferer a little later. "Don't you think that you could eat a little
something if you were propped up with pillows?"
"No, no, lad," said Jeems sadly. "I feel that I ain't long for this
world."
"I don't know what you call it then," remarked the incorrigible Jo,
"you are six feet four and that seems to me to be pretty long for this
world or any other."
Jeems laughed so heartily at this that he too began forthwith to
recuperate. Then he got out on the land side of the deck and, though
the sun was of a sufficient warmth to satisfy the most exacting, he
kept a heavy shawl wrapped around his shoulders.
"Durned old woman," growled the captain when he caught sight of the
figure seated between the cabin and the rail. "He ought to be for'ard
scrubbing deck."
However, Skipper Jim was more lenient, and only laughed at the
captain's severity, for he knew that the old fellow's bark was much
worse than his bite. In fact, no work was being done aboard ship that
morning, for all hands were given a chance for a long last look at
Hawaii. Never again were they to behold a more beautiful scene than
the panorama that traveled steadily along with the _Sea Eagle_ that
morning.
The soft radiance flooded the deeply azure sea, and the tropic island
of vivid and varied green. The four boys stood leaning lazily on the
ship's rail, gazing in silence at the view that was passing before
them. Their sombreros shaded their eyes, but the glare from the water
shone upon their faces of healthy bronze, and they did not seem to
mind it in the least. The old captain sat upon the bridge in his old
armchair, with his old comrade, the tortoise-shell cat, dozing and
blinking at his feet, a true picture of furry felicity.
So the crew of the _Sea Eagle_ passed in review this coast of Hawaii,
with black precipices, that rose in a continuous line of palisades
from out the sea, with no white beach shelving down. The great green
surges, with the force of the Pacific behind them, rolled against
the perpendicular walls, the dark surfaces of which were veined at
frequent intervals by the silvery lines of the waterfalls, or graced
by the vines which fell in straight lines, or were looped in varied
shapes.
Beyond these cliffs there rose the splendid <DW72>s, with here and
there groves of royal palms and slender cocoa trees, fit temples for
the gods of ancient Hawaii who were supposed to dwell in streams and
groves and mountains. Still higher up the mountain side grew the
forests of creamy koa, inlaid among the dark-leaved kukui.
At times the skirts of the clouds, heavy with moisture, dragged along
the lower <DW72>s, and a soft gloom would diffuse itself over the
landscape. Then the sun would roll the mists aside for the moment, and
the light would fall upon tropical vales, hills and mountain <DW72>s,
with all the vividness of the early spring and yet with the full, rich
splendor of summer.
No wonder the Frontier Boys were silent as they gazed upon this scene
of varied and unusual beauty, so different from the wild and barren
grandeur of the mountain ranges in their own country, and the arid
deserts they had traveled over.
"I'd hate to fall overboard here," exclaimed Tom, "it looks all-fired
deep."
"The captain says that along these island coasts," remarked Juarez,
"is some of the deepest seas in the world."
"Say, Jeems," cried Juarez to the invalid, "wade out here and see how
deep it is."
"If you really want to know I'll tell you," responded Jeems, the
philosopher. "Off this coast it's between five and seven thousand
feet."
"Whew!" whistled Jim, "over a mile, how is that for down?"
"It makes me shiver to think of it," exclaimed Tom.
"Hello, boys!" cried Jeems, "there is a big fire over on the other
side of the Island."
"I should say!" commented Jim earnestly. "Look at that smoke rolling
up."
"It must be a forest fire," put in Jo. "Reminds me of our Colorado
experiences."
"I tell you what, boys, let's make a landing and take a look at it,"
cried Juarez. "There's a fine harbor ahead of us!"
Old Captain Kerns was taking a deep interest in the conversation, as
was evident, as he looked down from the quarter deck at the boys.
"What's that you lads were saying, about a big fire somewheres?" he
inquired. "I hope it hain't aboard ship."
"No, no, Captain," replied Jim reassuringly, "we meant that big smoke
over on the other side of the island. Juarez wants to make a landing,
so as we can see it to better advantage. We don't want to miss any
excitement."
"You lads are always so eager," replied the captain. "Why don't you
wait until you get back here sometime?"
"It will be burned out long before we get back," said Jo.
"Well," said the captain slowly, "that smoke has been there for nigh
onto a thousand years, and is liable to be there for some time yet.
That's the volcano of Kiluaea."
How the captain roared then; for an instant the boys were dumfounded,
then they gave themselves up to hilarious mirth.
"That's certainly one on us boys," cried Jim. "We can't tell a volcano
when we see it. We ought to have stayed on the old
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THE MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE DE ST. SIMON
Newly translated and edited by FRANCIS ARKWRIGHT.
_In six volumes, demy 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth gilt, with
illustrations in photogravure, 10/6 net each volume._
NAPOLEON IN EXILE AT ELBA (1814-1815)
By NORWOOD YOUNG, Author of "The Growth of Napoleon," etc.; with a
chapter on the Iconography by A. M. Broadley.
_Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with frontispiece and 50
illustrations_ (from the collection of A. M. Broadley), _21/- net_.
NAPOLEON IN EXILE AT ST. HELENA (1815-1821)
By NORWOOD YOUNG, Author of "Napoleon in Exile at Elba," "The Story
of Rome," etc.
_In two volumes, demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with two
frontispieces and one hundred illustrations_ (from the collection
of A. M. Broadley), _32/- net_.
JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS TO VICTOR HUGO
Edited with a Biography of Juliette Drouet by LOUIS GUIMBAUD;
translated by Lady THEODORA DAVIDSON.
_Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with many illustrations, 10/6 net._
THE NEW FRANCE
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Transcriber Note
Emphasized text displayed as: _Italic_ and =Bold=.
Whole and fractional numbers as: 1-1/2
THE
NURSERY-BOOK
A COMPLETE GUIDE
TO THE
Multiplication and Pollination of Plants
_By L. H. BAILEY_
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+-------------------------------------------------+
|Transcriber's note: |
| |
|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. |
| |
|The Publisher updated some of the text of the |
|Book List by hand, indicating those which were |
|out of print. |
|The original text has been retained. |
| |
+-------------------------------------------------+
ECHOES FROM THE ORIENT
A BROAD OUTLINE OF THEOSOPHICAL DOCTRINES
BY
WILLIAM Q. JUDGE
[OCCULTUS]
SECOND POINT LOMA EDITION
THE THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY
POINT LOMA, CALIFORNIA
1910
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1890,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
BY WILLIAM Q. JUDGE.
[Illustration: Logo]
THE ARYAN THEOSOPHICAL PRESS
Point Loma, California
DEDICATED TO
HELENA PETROVNA BLAVATSKY
WITH LOVE
AND GRATITUDE
BY
THE AUTHOR
TO THE READER
Echoes from the Orient was written by Mr. Judge sixteen years ago (1890)
as a series of papers for a well known periodical. The author wrote
under the name of "_Occultus_," as it was intended that his personality
should be hidden until the series was completed. The value of these
papers as a popular presentation of Theosophical teaching was at once
seen and
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Internet Archive)
[Illustration: [See page 18
"I USED TO RUN OUT AND GET BEHIND, WITH BUNTY, AND TAKE HER BOOKS"]
MR. RABBIT'S WEDDING
[Illustration: HOLLOW TREE STORIES
BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE
ILLUSTRATED BY J. M. CONDE]
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HOLLOW TREE STORIES
BY
ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE
12mo, Cloth. Fully Illustrated
MR. TURTLE'S FLYING ADVENTURE
MR. CROW AND THE WHITEWASH
MR. RABBIT'S WEDDING
HOW MR. DOG GOT EVEN
HOW MR. RABBIT LOST HIS TAIL
MR. RABBIT'S BIG DINNER
MAKING UP WITH MR. DOG
MR. 'POSSUM'S GREAT BALLOON TRIP
WHEN JACK RABBIT WAS A LITTLE BOY
* * * * *
HOLLOW TREE AND DEEP WOODS BOOK
Illustrated. 8vo.
HOLLOW TREE SNOWED-IN BOOK
Illustrated. 8vo.
* * * * *
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
MR. RABBIT'S WEDDING
Copyright, 1915, 1916, 1917, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
Published October, 1917
CONTENTS.
PAGE
LITTLE JACK RABBIT AND BUNTY BUN 11
COUSIN REDFIELD AND THE MOLASSES 31
MR. BEAR'S EARLY SPRING CALL 51
MR. JACK RABBIT BRINGS A FRIEND 71
MR. RABBIT'S WEDDING 95
LITTLE JACK RABBIT AND BUNTY BUN
JACK RABBIT TELLS ABOUT HIS SCHOOL-DAYS, AND WHY HE HAS ALWAYS THOUGHT
IT BEST TO LIVE ALONE
THE Little Lady has been poring over a first reader, because she has
started to school now, and there are lessons almost every evening. Then
by and by she closes the book and comes over to where the Story Teller
is looking into the big open fire.
The Little Lady looks into the fire, too, and thinks. Then pretty soon
she climbs into the Story Teller's lap and leans back, and looks into
the fire and thinks some more.
"Did the Hollow Tree people ever go to school?" she says. "I s'pose they
did, though, or they wouldn't know how to read and write, and send
invitations and things."
The Story Teller knocks the ashes out of his pipe and lays it on the
little stand beside him.
"Why, yes indeed, they went to school," he says. "Didn't I ever tell you
about that?"
"You couldn't have," says the Little Lady, "because I never thought
about its happening, myself, until just now."
"Well, then," says the Story Teller, "I'll tell you something that Mr.
Jack Rabbit told about, one night in the Hollow Tree, when he had been
having supper with the '<DW53> and 'Possum and the Old Black Crow, and
they were all sitting before the fire, just as we are sitting now. It
isn't really much about school, but it shows that Jack Rabbit went to
one, and explains something else, too."
Mr. Crow had cooked all his best things that evening, and everything had
tasted even better than usual. Mr. 'Possum said he didn't really feel as
if he could move from his chair when supper was over, but that he wanted
to do the right thing, and would watch the fire and poke it while the
others were clearing the table, so that it would be nice and bright for
them when they were ready to enjoy it. So then the Crow and the '<DW53>
and Jack Rabbit flew about and did up the work, while Mr. 'Possum put on
a fresh stick, then lit his pipe, and leaned back and stretched out his
feet, and said it surely was nice to have a fine, cozy home like theirs,
and that he was always happy when he was doing things for people who
appreciated it, like those present.
[Illustration: MR. RABBIT SAID HE CERTAINLY DID APPRECIATE BEING INVITED
TO THE HOLLOW TREE]
Mr. Rabbit said he certainly did appreciate being invited to the Hollow
Tree, living, as he did, alone, an old bachelor, with nobody to share
his home; and then pretty soon the work was all done up, and Jack Rabbit
and the others drew up their chairs, too, and lit their pipes, and for
a while nobody said anything, but just smoked and felt happy.
Mr. 'Possum was first to say something. He leaned over and knocked the
ashes out of his pipe, then leaned back and crossed his feet, and said
he'd been thinking about Mr. Rabbit's lonely life, and wondering why it
was that, with his fondness for society and such a good home, he had
stayed a bachelor so long. Then the Crow and the '<DW53> said so, too, and
asked Jack Rabbit why it was.
Mr. Rabbit said it was quite a sad story, and perhaps not very
interesting, as it had all happened so long ago, when he was quite
small.
"My folks lived then in the Heavy Thickets, over beyond the Wide
Grasslands," he said; "it was a very nice place, with a good school,
kept by a stiff-kneed rabbit named Whack--J. Hickory Whack--which seemed
to fit him. I was the only child in our family that year, and I suppose
I was spoiled. I remember my folks let me run and play a good deal,
instead of making me study my lessons, so that Hickory Whack did not
like me much, though he was afraid to be as severe as he was with most
of the others, my folks being quite well off and I an only child. Of
course, the other scholars didn't like that, and I don't blame them now,
though I didn't care then whether they liked it or not. I didn't care
for anything, except to go capering about the woods, gathering flowers
and trying to make up poetry, when I should have been doing my examples.
I didn't like school or J. Hickory Whack, and every morning I hated to
start, until, one day, a new family moved into our neighborhood. They
were named Bun, and one of them was a little girl named Bunty--Bunty
Bun."
When Mr. Rabbit got that far in his story he stopped a minute and
sighed, and filled his pipe again, and took out his handkerchief, and
said he guessed a little speck of ashes had got into his eye. Then he
said:
"The Buns lived close to us, and the children went the same way to
school as I did. Bunty was little and fat, and was generally behind,
and I stayed behind with her, after the first morning. She seemed a very
well-behaved little Miss Rabbit, and was quite plump, as I say, and used
to have plump little books, which I used to carry for her and think how
nice it would be if I could always go on carrying them and helping Bunty
Bun over the mud-holes and ditches."
Mr. Rabbit got another speck of ashes in his eye, and had to wipe it
several times and blow his nose hard. Then he said:
"She wore a little red cape and a pretty linsey dress, and her ears were
quite slim and silky, and used to stand straight up, except when she was
sad over anything. Then they used to lop down quite flat; when I saw
them that way it made me sad, too. But when she was pleased and happy,
they set straight up and she seemed to laugh all over.
"I forgot all about not liking school. I used to watch until I saw the
Bun children coming, and then run out and get behind, with Bunty, and
take her books, and wish there was a good deal farther to go. When it
got to be spring and flowers began to bloom, I would gather every one I
saw for Bunty Bun, and once I made up a poem for her. I remember it
still. It said:
"Oh, Bunty Bun,
The spring's begun,
The violet's are in bloom.
Oh, Bunty Bun,
I'll pick you one,
All full of sweet perfume.
"The sun is bright,
Our hearts are light,
And we will skip and run.
Prick up your ears,
And dry your tears,
Dear bunny, Bunty Bun."
Mr. Rabbit said he didn't suppose it was the best poetry, but that it
had meant so much to him then that he couldn't judge it now, and,
anyway, it was no matter any more. The other children used to tease
them a good deal, Mr. Rabbit said, but that he and Bunty had not minded
it so very much, only, of course, he wouldn't have had them see his poem
for anything. The trouble began when Bunty Bun decided to have a
flower-garden.
[Illustration: "FLOWERS THAT SHE WANTED ME TO DIG UP FOR HER"]
"She used to see new flowers along the way to and from school that she
wanted me to dig up for her so she could set them out in her garden. I
liked to do it better than anything, too, only not _going_ to school,
because the ground was pretty soft and sticky, and it made my hands so
dirty, and Hickory Whack was particular about the children having clean
hands. I used to hide the flower plants under the corner of the
school-house every morning, and hurry in and wash my hands before school
took up, and the others used to watch me and giggle, for they knew what
all that dirt came from. Our school was just one room, and there were
rows of nails by the door to hang our things on, and there was a bench
with the washbasin and the water-pail on it, the basin and the pail
side by side. It was a misfortune for me that they were put so close
together that way. But never mind--it is a long time ago.
"One morning in April when it was quite chilly Bunty Bun saw several
pretty plants on the way to school that she wanted me to dig up for her,
root and all, for her garden. I said it would be better to get them on
the way home that night, but Bunty said some one might come along and
take them and that she wouldn't lose those nice plants for anything. So
I got down on my knees and dug and dug with my hands in the cold, sticky
dirt, until I got the roots all up for her, and my hands were quite numb
and a sight to look at. Then we hurried on to school, for it was getting
late.
"When we got to the door I pushed the flower plants under the edge of
the house, and we went in, Bunty ahead of me. School had just taken up,
and all the scholars were in their seats except us. Bunty Bun went over
to the girls' side to hang up her things, and I stuck my hat on a nail
on our side, and stepped as quick as I could to the bench where the
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Lost Million
By William Le Queux
Published by George Newnes, Limited, London.
This edition dated 1915.
The Lost Million, by William Le Queux.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
THE LOST MILLION, BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX.
CHAPTER ONE.
DESCRIBES A MAN AND HIS SECRET.
"See! It's--it's in my kit-bag, over there! The thing--the Thing at
which the whole world will stand aghast!"
The thin, white-faced, grey-bearded man lying on his back in bed roused
himself with difficulty, and with skinny finger pointed at his strong
but battered old leather bag lying in the corner of the small hotel
bedroom.
"The keys--on my chain--Mr Kemball--" he gasped faintly, his face
slowly flushing. "Open it, quick!--ah no! you can't deceive me, my dear
fellow. I'm dying! I heard what the doctor told you--though he only
whispered. But, Mr Kemball, although you are a young man, I--I'm going
to trust you with a--with a strange responsibility. I--I trust you
because you were so very kind to me on board. They all shunned me--all
save you! They didn't know my real name,"--and the old man chuckled
bitterly to himself--"and they were not likely to!"
"You were unwell on the voyage, Mr Arnold, and it was surely my duty
to--"
"Duty! What duty do you owe to me?--a perfect stranger--an adventurer
for aught you know!" cried the old fellow with whom I had formed such a
curious friendship. "No, Mr Kemball, you have acted as a real man, as
a friend--one of the few friends one meets in this hard, workaday
world," and he clutched wildly at his throat, while his sunken cheeks
slowly assumed a hectic flush. "Unlock the bag--get it out--before--
before I lose my senses," he added.
I took from the dressing-table the bunch of keys attached to his steel
watch-chain, and was crossing the room towards the bag when he
exclaimed--
"Listen, Mr Kemball! I'm a dying man. Will you make a solemn promise
to me? Will you grant me one last earnest request? In half an hour--
perhaps before--I shall be lying here dead. But I'm still alive--a man
who has seen much, who knows strange things--a man who has lived through
much, and who has stood by and seen men die around him like flies. God!
If I dare only tell you half--but--"
"Well, Mr Arnold," I asked quietly, returning to the bedside and
looking into the pinched grey face, "how do you wish me to act?"
"I have already written it here--I wrote it on board ship, after my
first seizure," he said, slowly drawing a crumpled and bulky envelope
from beneath his pillow and handing it to me with trembling fingers.
"Will you promise not to open it until after I have been placed in the
grave, and to act as I have requested?"
"Most certainly, Mr Arnold," was my reply. "A promise given to one who
is about to pass to the Beyond is sacred."
His thin fingers gripped my hand in silent acknowledgment. He did not
speak, but the expression in his eyes told of his profound thankfulness.
I placed the letter in my breast-pocket. Something seemed to be
enclosed within.
"Go and open the bag," he whispered, after a brief silence.
I did so, and within, to my great surprise, found two huge bundles of
fifty and hundred pound Bank of England notes, each packet several
inches thick and tied with faded pink tape.
He beckoned me to bring them to him, and when I again stood near the
bed, he selected one note, and then said--
"I wish you to destroy all of them--burn them there in the grate--so
that I can watch you," and he gave vent to a harsh, unnatural laugh, a
hideous laugh of despair.
I looked at him in hesitation. The poor old fellow was surely mad. In
my hands I held notes to the value of an enormous sum. And yet he
wished to ruthlessly destroy them!
He noticed my hesitation, and in a quick, impatient tone, asked whether
I would not carry out his wishes, at the same time handing me the note
he had taken, telling me that it was to pay for his interment.
"As you desire," I said, with some reluctance.
"But is it just--with so much distress here, in London--to deliberately
destroy money like this?"
"I have a reason, Mr Kemball, a very strong reason," he answered in a
low tone.
So I was compelled to untie the bundles, and, separating the notes,
placed them in the grate and commenced a fire, which I fed on and on,
until the last note had been consumed, and there remained only a grate
full of blackened tinder. I confess that I found myself wishing that I
had the numbers of some of the notes, in order to reclaim their
equivalent from the Bank.
The old man's wild eyes, full of unnatural fire, watched the flames die
down, and as they did so he gave a sigh of distinct relief.
Then, with difficulty, he turned to me and, putting out his hand, said--
"In the bag--at the bottom--you will find a sealed cylinder of metal."
I searched as he directed, and drew forth a heavy ancient cylinder of
bronze, about a foot and a half long and three inches in diameter. The
top had, I saw, been welded down, but a long time ago, because of the
green corrosion about it.
When I had carried it across to him, he looked me straight in the face
with those deep-set glassy eyes, which haunted
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HESIOD, THE HOMERIC HYMNS, AND HOMERICA
This file contains translations of the following works:
Hesiod: "Works and Days", "The Theogony", fragments of "The Catalogues
of Women and the Eoiae", "The Shield of Heracles" (attributed to
Hesiod), and fragments of various works attributed to Hesiod.
Homer: "The Homeric Hymns", "The Epigrams of Homer" (both attributed to
Homer).
Various: Fragments of the Epic Cycle (parts of which are sometimes
attributed to Homer), fragments of other epic poems attributed to Homer,
"The Battle of Frogs and Mice", and "The Contest of Homer and Hesiod".
This file contains only that portion of the book in English; Greek texts
are excluded. Where Greek characters appear in the original English
text, transcription in CAPITALS is substituted.
PREPARER'S NOTE: In order to make this file more accessible to the
average computer user, the preparer has found it necessary to re-arrange
some of the material. The preparer takes full responsibility for his
choice of arrangement.
A few endnotes have been added by the preparer, and some additions have
been supplied to the original endnotes of Mr. Evelyn-White's. Where this
occurs I have noted the addition with my initials "DBK". Some endnotes,
particularly those concerning textual variations in the ancient Greek
text, are here omitted.
PREFACE
This volume contains practically all that remains of the post-Homeric
and pre-academic epic poetry.
I have for the most part formed my own text. In the case of Hesiod I
have been able to use independent collations of several MSS. by Dr.
W.H.D. Rouse; otherwise I have depended on the apparatus criticus of
the several editions, especially that of Rzach (1902). The arrangement
adopt
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HUMBOLDT
By Robert G. Ingersoll
HUMBOLDT
THE UNIVERSE IS GOVERNED BY LAW.
GREAT men seem to be a part of the infinite--brothers of the mountains
and the seas.
Humboldt was one of these. He was one of those serene men, in some
respects like our own Franklin, whose names have all the lustre of a
star. He was one of the few, great enough to rise above the superstition
and prejudice of his time, and to know that experience, observation, and
reason are the only basis of knowledge.
He became one of the greatest of men in spite of having been born rich
and noble--in spite of position. I say in spite of these things,
because wealth and position are generally the enemies of genius, and the
destroyers of talent.
It is often said of this or that man, that he is a self-made man--that
he was born of the poorest and humblest parents, and that with every
obstacle to overcome he became great. This is a mistake. Poverty is
generally an advantage. Most of the intellectual giants of the world
have been nursed at the sad and loving breast of poverty. Most of those
who have climbed highest on the shining ladder of fame commenced at the
lowest round. They were reared in the straw-thatched cottages of Europe;
in the log-houses of America; in the factories of the great cities; in
the midst of toil; in the smoke and din of labor, and on the verge of
want. They were rocked by the feet of mothers whose hands, at the same
time, were busy with the needle or the wheel.
It is hard for the
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THROUGH THE TELESCOPE
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
27 RICHMOND STREET, TORONTO
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
12 BANK STREET, BOMBAY
7 NEW CHINA BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA
[Illustration:
PLATE I.
The 40-inch Refractor of the Yerkes Observatory.]
THROUGH
THE TELESCOPE
BY
JAMES BAIKIE, F.R.A.S.
WITH 32 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
AND 26 SMALLER FIGURES IN THE TEXT
[Illustration]
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1906
TO
C. N. B. AND H. E. B.
PREFACE
The main object of the following chapters is to give a brief and
simple description of the most important and interesting facts
concerning the heavenly bodies, and to suggest to the general reader
how much of the ground thus covered lies open to his personal survey
on very easy conditions. Many people who are more or less interested
in astronomy are deterred from making practical acquaintance with the
wonders of the heavens by the idea that these are only disclosed to
the possessors of large and costly instruments. In reality there is
probably no science which offers to those whose opportunities and
means of observation are restricted greater stores of knowledge and
pleasure than astronomy; and the possibility of that quickening of
interest which can only be gained by practical study is, in these
days, denied to very few indeed.
Accordingly, I have endeavoured, while recounting the great triumphs
of astronomical discovery, to give some practical help to those who
are inclined to the study of the heavens, but do not know how to
begin. My excuse for venturing on such a task must be that, in the
course of nearly twenty years of observation with telescopes of all
sorts and sizes, I have made most of the mistakes against which others
need to be warned.
The book has no pretensions to being a complete manual; it is merely
descriptive of things seen and learned. Nor has it any claim to
originality. On the contrary, one of its chief purposes has been to
gather into short compass the results of the work of others. I have
therefore to acknowledge my indebtedness to other writers, and notably
to Miss Agnes Clerke, Professor Young, Professor Newcomb, the late
Rev. T. W. Webb, and Mr. W. F. Denning. I have also found much help in
the _Monthly Notices_ and _Memoirs_ of the Royal Astronomical
Society, and the _Journal_ and _Memoirs_ of the British Astronomical
Association.
The illustrations have been mainly chosen with the view of
representing to the general reader some of the results of the best
modern observers and instruments; but I have ventured to reproduce a
few specimens of more commonplace work done with small telescopes. I
desire to offer my cordial thanks to those who have so kindly granted
me permission to reproduce illustrations from their published works,
or have lent photographs or drawings for reproduction--to Miss Agnes
Clerke for Plates XXV.-XXVIII. and XXX.-XXXII. inclusive; to
Mrs. Maunder for Plate VIII.; to M. Loewy, Director of the Paris
Observatory, for Plates XI.-XIV. and Plate XVII.; to Professor E. B.
Frost, Director of the Yerkes Observatory, for Plates I., VII., XV.,
and XVI.; to M. Deslandres, of the Meudon Observatory, for Plate IX.,
and the gift of several of his own solar memoirs; to the Astronomer
Royal for England, Sir W. Mahony Christie, for Plate V.; to Mr. H.
MacEwen for the drawings of Venus, Plate X.; to the Rev. T. E. R.
Phillips for those of Mars and Jupiter, Plates XX. and XXII.; to
Professor Barnard for that of Saturn, Plate XXIV., reproduced by
permission from the _Monthly Notices_ of the Royal Astronomical
Society; to Mr. W. E. Wilson for Plates XXIX. and XXXII.; to Mr. John
Murray for Plates XVIII. and XIX.; to the proprietors of _Knowledge_
for Plate VI.; to Mr. Denning and Messrs. Taylor and Francis for Plate
III. and Figs. 6 and 20; to the British Astronomical Association for
the chart of Mars, Plate XXI., reproduced from the _Memoirs_; and to
Messrs. T. Cooke and Sons for Plate II. For those who wish to see for
themselves some of the wonders and beauties of the starry heavens
the two Appendices furnish a few specimens chosen from an innumerable
company; while readers who have no desire to engage in practical work
are invited to skip Chapters I. and II.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE TELESCOPE--HISTORICAL 1
II. THE TELESCOPE--PRACTICAL 14
III. THE SUN 47
IV. THE SUN'S SURROUNDINGS 68
V. MERCURY 81
VI. VENUS 89
VII. THE MOON 100
VIII. MARS 130
IX. THE ASTEROIDS 148
X. JUPITER 154
XI. SATURN 172
XII. URANUS AND NEPTUNE 190
XIII. COMETS AND METEORS 203
XIV. THE STARRY HEAVENS 230
XV. CLUSTERS AND NEBULÆ 256
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MABEL.
A NOVEL,
BY EMMA WARBURTON.
_IN THREE VOLUMES._
VOL. I.
LONDON:
THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER,
30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE.
1854.
TO
MISS EMMA TYLNEY LONG,
THIS WORK
IS INSCRIBED
AS A SLIGHT BUT SINCERE EXPRESSION
OF GRATEFUL ESTEEM.
MABEL.
CHAPTER I.
Oh, timely, happy, timely wise,
Hearts that with rising morn arise,
Eyes that the beam celestial view,
Which evermore makes all things new.
New every morning is the love,
Our waking and uprising prove,
Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
Restored to life, and power, and thought.
KEEBLE.
One morning, early in the month of August, a few years since, the sun
rose lazily and luxuriously over the hills that bounded the little
village of Aston, which lay in one of the prettiest valleys of
Gloucestershire. The golden beams of that glorious luminary falling
first upon the ivy-covered tower of the little church, seemed, to the
eye of fancy, to linger with pleasure round the sacred edifice, as if
glad to recognize the altar of Him, who, from the beginning, had fixed
his daily course through the bright circle of the heavens, then pouring
a flood of brilliancy on the simple rectory, danced over the hills, and
played with the many windows of the old Manor House, which, situated at
a short distance from the church, formed one of the most striking
objects of the village.
Only here and there a thick volume of smoke rose from the cottages
scattered over the valley, while the only living object visible was a
young man, who thus early walked down the steep and winding path, which
led from the rectory, and strolled leisurely forward, as if attracted by
the beauties of the early morning. The slow pace with which he moved
seemed to betoken either indolence or fatigue, while his dress, which
was of the latest fashion, slightly contrasted with the ancient-looking
simplicity of the place.
Captain Clair, for such was his name, had quitted his regiment, then in
India, and returned to England, with the hope of recruiting his health,
which had been considerably impaired by his residence abroad.
On the preceding evening, he had arrived at the rectory, upon a visit to
his uncle, who wished him to try the bracing air of Gloucestershire as a
change from town, where he had been lingering for some little time since
his return to England.
In person, the young officer was slight and well made, with a becoming
military air; his countenance light and fresh, spite of Indian
suns, and, on the whole, prepossessing, though not untinged by certain
worldly characters, as if he had entered perhaps too thoughtlessly on a
world of sin and temptation.
There is, however, something still and holy in the early morning, when
the sin and folly of nature has slept, or seemed to sleep, and life
again awakes with fresh energy to labor. The dew from heaven has not
fallen upon the herb alone, it seems to rest upon the spirit of man
which rises full of renewed strength to that toil before which it sank
heavily at eve; and as Captain Clair felt the breeze rising with its
dewy incense to heaven, his mind seemed to receive fresh impetus, and
his thoughts a higher tone. Languidly as he pursued his way, his eye
drank in the beauties of a new country, with all the fervour of a
poetical imagination.
On the right and left of the village, as he entered it, were high hills,
covered with brushwood, a few cottages, with their simple gardens, lay
in the hollow, and the church, standing nearly alone, was built a
little above these, having the hill on the left immediately behind it.
There was great beauty in that simple church, with that thickly covered
hill above, and nothing near to disturb its solemnity.
Further on, the hills opened, and gave a view of the whole country
beyond, presenting a scene of loveliness very common in our fertile
island. A small but beautiful river wound through the valley, carrying
life and fertility along its banks. Wide spreading oaks and tall
beeches, with the graceful birch and chestnut trees bending their lower
branches nearly to the green turf beneath, enclosed the grounds of the
Manor House, which, built on a
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[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]
* * * * *
VOL. II.--NO. 58. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, December 1, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration: TOBY STRIKES A BARGAIN--DRAWN BY W. A. ROGERS.]
TOBY TYLER; OR, TEN WEEKS WITH A CIRCUS.
BY JAMES OTIS.
CHAPTER I.
TOBY'S INTRODUCTION TO THE CIRCUS.
"Couldn't you give more'n six pea-nuts 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 that 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 any more
profitable customer 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. Sposen 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 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 pea-nuts seemed disposed to
question the boy still further, probably owing to the fact that trade
was dull, and 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
troubling 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
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THE LAND OF SONG
BOOK II.
_FOR LOWER GRAMMAR GRADES_
SELECTED BY
KATHARINE H. SHUTE
EDITED BY
LARKIN DUNTON, LL.D.
HEAD MASTER OF THE BOSTON NORMAL SCHOOL
[Illustration]
SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY
NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO
1899
COPYRIGHT, 1899,
BY SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY.
BOSTON:
C. J. PETERS & SON, TYPOGRAPHERS.
Plimpton Press
H. M. PLIMPTON & CO., PRINTERS & BINDERS,
NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A.
_COMPILERS' PREFACE._
The inestimable value of literature in supplying healthful recreation,
in opening the mind to larger views of life, and in creating ideals that
shall mold the spiritual nature, is conceded now by every one who has
intelligently considered the problems of education. But the basis upon
which literature shall be selected and arranged is still a matter of
discussion.
Chronology, race-correspondence, correlation, and ethical training
should all be recognized incidentally; but the main purpose of the
teacher of literature is to send children on into life with a genuine
love for good reading. To accomplish this, three things should be true
of the reading offered: first, it should be _literature_; second, it
should be literature of some scope, not merely some small phase of
literature, such as the fables or the poetry of one of the less eminent
poets; and third, it should appeal to children's natural interests.
Children's interests, varied as they seem, center in the marvelous and
the preternatural; in the natural world; and in human life, especially
child life and the romantic and heroic aspects of mature life. In the
selections made for each grade, we have recognized these different
interests.
To grade poetry perfectly for different ages is an impossibility; much
of the greatest verse is for all ages--that is one reason why it _is_
great. A child of five will lisp the numbers of Horatius with delight;
and Scott's _Lullaby of an Infant Chief_, with its romantic color and
its exquisite human tenderness, is dear to childhood, to manhood, and to
old age. But the Land of Song is a great undiscovered country to the
little child; by some road or other he must find his way into it; and
these volumes simply attempt to point out a path through which he may be
led into its happy fields.
Our earnest thanks are due to the following publishers for permission
to use copyrighted poems: to Houghton, Mifflin & Co. for poems by
Longfellow, Whittier, Emerson, Holmes, Lowell, Aldrich, Bayard Taylor,
James T. Fields, Phoebe Cary, Lucy Larcom, Celia Thaxter, and Sarah Orne
Jewett; to D. Appleton & Co. for a large number of Bryant's poems; to
Charles Scribner's Sons for two poems by Stevenson, from _Underwoods_,
and _A Child's Garden of Verse_; to J. B. Lippincott & Co. for two poems
by Thomas Buchanan Read; and to Henry T. Coates & Co. for a poem by
Charles Fenno Hoffman.
The present volume is intended for the fourth, fifth, and sixth school
years, or lower grammar grades. It is the second of three books prepared
for use in the grades below the high school. As no collection of this
size can supply as much poetry as may be used to advantage, and as many
desirable poems by American writers have necessarily been omitted, we
have noted at the end of this volume lists of poems which it would be
well to add to the material given here, that our children may realize
the scope and beauty of the poetry of their own
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by Al Haines.
THE PRINCE OF INDIA
OR
WHY CONSTANTINOPLE FELL
BY LEW. WALLACE
VOL. II.
_Rise, too, ye Shapes and Shadows of the Past
Rise from your long forgotten grazes at last
Let us behold your faces, let us hear
The words you uttered in those days of fear
Revisit your familiar haunts again
The scenes of triumph and the scenes of pain
And leave the footprints of your bleeding feet
Once more upon the pavement of the street_
LONGFELLOW
CONTENTS
BOOK IV
THE PALACE OF BLACHERNE (_Continued_)
CHAPTER
XI. THE PRINCESS HEARS FROM THE WORLD
XII. LAEL TELLS OF HER TWO FATHERS
XIII. THE HAMARI TURNS BOATMAN
XIV. THE PRINCESS HAS A CREED
XV. THE PRINCE OF INDIA PREACHES GOD TO THE GREEKS
XVI. HOW THE NEW FAITH WAS RECEIVED
XVII. LAEL AND THE SWORD OF SOLOMON
XVIII. THE FESTIVAL OF FLOWERS
XIX. THE PRINCE BUILDS CASTLES FOR HIS GUL BAHAR
XX. THE SILHOUETTE OF A CRIME
XXI. SERGIUS LEARNS A NEW LESSON
XXII. THE PRINCE OF INDIA SEEKS MAHOMMED
XXIII. SERGIUS AND NILO TAKE UP THE HUNT
XXIV. THE IMPERIAL CISTERN GIVES UP ITS SECRET
BOOK V
MIRZA
I. A COLD WIND FROM ADRIANOPLE
II. A FIRE FROM THE HEGUMEN'S TOMB
III. MIRZA DOES AN ERRAND FOR MAHOMMED
IV. THE EMIR IN ITALY
V. THE PRINCESS IRENE IN TOWN
VI. COUNT CORTI IN SANCTA SOPHIA
VII. COUNT CORTI TO MAHOMMED
VIII. OUR LORD'S CREED
IX. COUNT CORTI TO MAHOMMED
X. SERGIUS TO THE LION
BOOK VI
CONSTANTINE
I. THE SWORD OF SOLOMON
II. MAHOMMED AND COUNT CORTI MAKE A WAGER
III. THE BLOODY HARVEST
IV. EUROPE ANSWERS THE CRY FOR HELP
V. COUNT CORTI RECEIVES A FAVOR
VI. MAHOMMED AT THE GATE ST. ROMAIN
VII. THE GREAT GUN SPEAKS
VIII. MAHOMMED TRIES HIS GUNS AGAIN
IX. THE MADONNA TO THE RESCUE
X. THE NIGHT BEFORE THE ASSAULT
XI. COUNT CORTI IN DILEMMA
XII. THE ASSAULT
XIII. MAHOMMED IN SANCTA SOPHIA
BOOK IV
THE PALACE OF BLACHERNE (_Continued_)
CHAPTER XI
THE PRINCESS HEARS FROM THE WORLD
The sun shone clear and hot, and the guests in the garden were glad to
rest in the shaded places of promenade along the brooksides and under
the beeches and soaring pines of the avenues. Far up the extended
hollow there was a basin first to receive the water from the conduit
supposed to tap the aqueduct leading down from the forest of Belgrade.
The noise of the little cataract there was strong enough to draw a
quota of visitors. From the front gate to the basin, from the basin to
the summit of the promontory, the company in lingering groups amused
each other detailing what of fortune good and bad the year had brought
them. The main features of such meetings are always alike. There were
games by the children, lovers in retired places, and old people plying
each other with reminiscences. The faculty of enjoyment changes but
never expires.
An array of men chosen for the purpose sallied from the basement of the
palace carrying baskets of bread, fruits in season, and wine of the
country in water-skins. Dispersing themselves through the garden, they
waited on the guests, and made distribution without stint or
discrimination. The heartiness of their welcome may be imagined; while
the thoughtful reader will see in the liberality thus characterizing
her hospitality one of the secrets of the Princess's popularity with
the poor along the Bosphorus. Nor that merely. A little reflection will
lead up to an explanation of her preference for the Homeric residence
by Therapia. The commonalty, especially the unfortunate amongst them,
were a kind of constituency of hers, and she loved living where she
could most readily communicate with them.
This was the hour she chose to go out and personally visit her guests.
Descending from the portico, she led her household attendants into the
garden. She alone appeared unveiled. The happiness of the many amongst
whom she immediately stepped touched every spring of enjoyment in her
being; her eyes were bright, her cheeks rosy,
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ESSAYS
_OTHER WORKS BY Mr. A. C. BENSON_
_In Verse_
POEMS, 1893
LYRICS, 1895
_In Prose_
MEMOIRS OF
ARTHUR HAMILTON, 1886
ARCHBISHOP LAUD: A STUDY,
1887
MEN OF MIGHT (in conjunction
with H. F. W. TATHAM), 1890
ESSAYS
BY
ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON
OF ETON COLLEGE
_Post aliquot, mea regna videns, mirabor aristas!_
LONDON
WILLIAM HEINEMANN
1896
_All rights reserved_
_To_
HENRY JAMES
THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED
BY
HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND
THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
It would be easy, if need were, to devise a theory of coherence for the
Essays here selected for re-publication, but the truth is that they are
fortuitous. The only claim that I can consistently make, is that I have
always chosen, for biographical and critical study, figures whose
personality or writings have seemed to me to possess some subtle,
evasive charm, or delicate originality of purpose or view. Mystery,
inexplicable reticence, haughty austerity, have a fascination in life
and literature, that is sometimes denied to sanguine strength and easy
volubility. I am well aware that vitality and majesty are the primary
qualities to demand both in life and literature
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INDEX FOR WORKS OF RUTH OGDEN
By Ruth Ogden
Compiled by David Widger
CONTENTS
## TATTINE
## COURAGE
## HIS LITTLE ROYAL HIGHNESS
## A LOYAL LITTLE RED-COAT
## A LITTLE QUEEN OF HEARTS
## LITTLE HOMESPUN
TABLES OF CONTENTS OF VOLUMES
TATTINE A1816
by Ruth Ogden
[Mrs. Charles W. Ide]
Contents
CHAPTER I. TROUBLE NO. 1
CHAPTER II. A MAPLE-WAX MORNING
CHAPTER III. A SET OF SETTERS
CHAPTER IV. MORE TROUBLES
CHAPTER V. THE KIRKS AT HOME
CHAPTER VI. “IT IS THEIR NATURE TO.”
COURAGE
A Story Wherein Every One Comes To The Conclusion That The Courage In Question Proved A Courage Worth Having
By Ruth Ogden
Illustrated by Frederick C. Gordon
With Twenty Original Illustrations
1891
CONTENTS
COURAGE
CHAPTER I.—NAMED AT LAST.
CHAPTER II.—ON THE WATCH.
CHAPTER III.—LARRY COMES.
CHAPTER IV.—MISS JULIA.
CHAPTER V.—SYLVIA.
CHAPTER VI.—ABOARD THE LIGHTER.
CHAPTER VII.—“THE QUEEREST LITTLE PLACE.”
CHAPTER VIII.—COURAGE DOES IT.
L'ENVOI
HIS LITTLE ROYAL HIGHNESS A51979
By Ruth Ogden
Illustrated by W. Rainsey
1887
CONTENTS
I.—CORONATION DAY
II.—THE KING HOLDS AND INTERVIEW WITH SISTER JULIA
III.—THE FAIRFAXES CALL ON THE MURRAYS
IV. A SURPRI
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Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the underscore character as _italic_.
Footnotes have been moved to follow the articles in which they are
referenced.
The British Journal of Dermatology, April, 1905
THE BRITISH JOURNAL OF DERMATOLOGY.
APRIL, 1905.
XANTHO-ERYTHRODERMIA PERSTANS.
By H. RADCLIFFE-CROCKER.
The above provisional clinical title was suggested to me by my coadjutor
at University College Hospital, Mr. George Pernet, for a well-defined
affection of the skin, of which I have met with ten instances during the
last three years, all but one of them in private practice. I am not
aware that the disease in question has been described before, unless it
can be brought under Brocq’s “erythrodermies pityriasiques en plaques
disseminées,” with which it will be closely compared when the cases
themselves have been considered.
A case which I showed at the Dermatological Society of London in
October, 1904, when Drs. Hallopeau, Gastou, Jacquet and Pautrier were
present, was not regarded by them as a case of Brocq’s disease, with
which they were presumably familiar, but as an entirely new affection in
their experience.
The following description is drawn up from nine of the cases, all males,
which, in the main features, closely resemble each other. The remaining
case, a lady, had some important differences which will be discussed
later.
So far, all the cases have been adults, though some of them were young.
The lesions are evolved in patches
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Transcriber's Note
This version of the text is unable to reproduce certain typographic
features. Italics are delimited with the '_' character as _italic_.
Bold font is delimited with the '=' character as =bold=. Words printed
using "small capitals" are shifted to all upper-case.
The illustrations were each presented with a full page caption, and
were separated from the text by blank pages. In this text, these
illustrations were moved to fall at paragraph breaks and appear as,
for example:
[Illustration: SUNNINGDALE
_The tenth hole_]
Please consult the transcriber's notes at the end of this text for any
additional issues.
THE GOLF COURSES OF THE
BRITISH ISLES
[Illustration: ST. ANDREWS
_Looking back from the twelfth green_]
THE GOLF COURSES
OF THE
BRITISH ISLES
BY
BERNARD DARWIN
ILLUSTRATED BY
HARRY ROUNTREE
LONDON
DUCKWORTH & CO.
3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN
_All rights reserved_
_Published 1910_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. LONDON COURSES (1) 1
II. LONDON COURSES (2) 23
III. KENT AND SUSSEX 44
IV. THE WEST AND SOUTH-WEST 68
V. EAST ANGLIA 93
VI. THE COURSES OF CHESHIRE AND LANCASHIRE 111
VII. YORKSHIRE AND THE MIDLANDS 130
VIII. OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE 147
IX. A LONDON COURSE 158
X. ST. ANDREWS, FIFE, AND FORFARSHIRE 165
XI. THE COURSES OF THE EAST LOTHIAN AND EDINBURGH 181
XII. WEST OF SCOTLAND: PRESTWICK AND TROON 202
XIII. IRELAND 215
XIV. WALES 231
INDEX 250
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
ST. ANDREWS _Frontispiece._
SUNNINGDALE _To face p._ 4
WALTON HEATH " 12
WOKING " 18
MID-SURREY " 24
STOKE POGES " 28
CASSIOBURY PARK " 30
SANDY LODGE " 32
NORTHWOOD " 34
ROMFORD " 36
BLACKHEATH " 38
WIMBLEDON COMMON " 40
MITCHAM COMMON " 42
SANDWICH " 44
SANDWICH ("HADES") " 46
DEAL " 50
PRINCE'S " 54
LITTLESTONE " 56
RYE " 58
EASTBOURNE " 62
ASHDOWN FOREST " 64
WESTWARD HO! " 70
BUDE " 78
BURNHAM " 80
BROADSTONE " 84
BOURNEMOUTH " 88
BEMBRIDGE " 90
FELIXSTOWE " 94
CROMER " 98
SHERINGHAM " 100
BRANCASTER " 102
HUNSTANTON " 106
SKEGNESS " 108
HOYLAKE (1) " 112
HOYLAKE (2) " 116
FORMBY " 120
WALLASEY " 122
LYTHAM AND ST. ANNE'S " 124
TRAFFORD PARK " 126
GANTON " 130
FIXBY " 134
HOLLINWELL " 138
SANDWELL PARK " 142
HANDSWORTH " 144
FRILFORD HEATH " 148
WORLINGTON " 154
ST. ANDREWS "
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THE WILL TO DOUBT
AN ESSAY IN PHILOSOPHY FOR THE
GENERAL THINKER
BY
ALFRED H. LLOYD
Truth hath neither visible form nor body; it is without habitation or name;
like the Son of Man it hath not where to lay its head.
LONDON
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO., Lim.
25 HIGH STREET, BLOOMSBURY, W.C.
1907
PREFACE.
The chapters that follow comprise what might be called an introduction
to philosophy, but such a description of them would probably be
misleading, for they are addressed quite as much to the general reader,
or rather to the general thinker, as to the prospective student of
technical philosophy. They are the attempt of a University teacher of
philosophy to meet what is a real emergency of the day, namely, the
doubt that is appearing in so many departments of life, that is
affecting so many people, and that is fraught with so many dangers, and
in attempting this they would also at least help to bridge the chasm
between academic sophistication and practical life, self-consciousness
and positive activity. With peculiar truth at the present time the
University can justify itself only by serving real life, and it can
serve real life, not merely by bringing its pure science down to, or up
to, the health and the industrial pursuits of the people, but also by
explaining, which is even to say by applying, as science is "applied,"
or by animating the general scepticism of the time.
That this scepticism is often charged to the peculiar training of the
University hardly needs to be said, but except for its making such an
undertaking as the present essay only the more appropriate the charge
itself is strangely humorous. One might also accuse the University of
making atoms and germs, or, by its magic theories, of generating
electricity or disease. Scepticism is a world-wide, life-wide fact; even
like heat or electricity, it is a natural force or agent--unless
forsooth one must exclude all the attitudes of mind from what in the
fullest and deepest sense is natural; scepticism, in short, is a real
phase of whatever is real, and its explanation is an academic
responsibility. Its explanation, however, like the explanation of
everything real or natural, can be complete only when, as already
suggested here, its application and animation have been achieved, or
when it has been shown to be properly and effectively an object of will.
So, just as we have the various applied sciences, in this essay there is
offered an applied philosophy of doubt, a philosophy that would show
doubt to have a real part in effective action, and that with the showing
would make both the doubting and the acting so much the more effective.
But it may be said that effective acting depends, not on doubt, but
rather on belief, on confidence or "credit." This will prove to be true,
excepting in what it denies. To be commonplace, to write down here and
now what is at once the truism and the paradox of this book, a vital,
practical belief must always live by doubting. Was it Schopenhauer who
declared that man walks only by saving himself at every step from a
fall? The meaning of this book is much the same, although no pessimism
is either intended or necessarily implied in such a declaration. Doubt
is no mere negative of belief; rather it is a very vital part of belief,
it has a place in the believer's experience and volition; the doubters
in society, be they trained at the University or not, and those
practical creatures in society who have kept the faith, who believe and
who do, are naturally and deeply in sympathy. And this essay seeks to
deepen their natural sympathy.
Here, then, is my simple thesis. Doubt is essential to real belief.
Perhaps this means that all vital problems are bound in a real life to
be perennial, and certainly it cannot mean that in its support I may be
expected by my readers to give a solution of every special problem that
might be raised, an answer to every question about knowledge or
morality, about religion or politics or industry, that might be asked.
Problems and questions, of course the natural children, not of doubt,
but of doubt and belief, may be as worthy and as practical as solutions.
Some of them may be even better put than answered. But be this as it
may, the present essay must be taken for what it is, not for something
else. It is, then, for reasons not less practical than theoretical, an
attempt to face and, so far as may be, to solve the very general problem
of doubt itself, or say simply--if this be simple--the problem of
whatever in general is problematic; and, this done, to suggest what may
be the right attitude for doubters and believers towards each other and
towards life and the world which is life's natural sphere; emphatically
it is not the announcement of a programme for life in any of its
departments.
The substance of chapters
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DONA PERFECTA
by B. PEREZ GALDOS
Translated from the Spanish by Mary J. Serrano
INTRODUCTION
The very acute and lively Spanish critic who signs himself Clarin, and
is known personally as Don Leopoldo Alas, says the present Spanish novel
has no yesterday, but only a day-before-yesterday. It does not derive
from the romantic novel which immediately preceded that: the novel,
large or little, as it was with Cervantes, Hurtado de Mendoza, Quevedo,
and the masters of picaresque fiction.
Clarin dates its renascence from the political revolution of 1868,
which gave Spanish literature the freedom necessary to the fiction that
studies to reflect modern life, actual ideas, and current aspirations;
and though its authors were few at first, "they have never been
adventurous spirits, friends of Utopia, revolutionists, or impatient
progressists and reformers." He thinks that the most daring, the most
advanced, of the new Spanish novelists, and the best by far, is Don
Benito Perez Galdos.
I should myself have made my little exception in favor of Don Armando
Palacio Valdes, but Clarin speaks with infinitely more authority, and I
am certainly ready to submit when he goes on to say that Galdos is not
a social or literary insurgent; that he has no political or religious
prejudices; that he shuns extremes, and is charmed with prudence;
that his novels do not attack the Catholic dogmas--though they deal so
severely with Catholic bigotry--but the customs and ideas cherished
by secular fanaticism to the injury of the Church. Because this is
so evident, our critic holds, his novels are "found in the bosom of
families in every corner of Spain." Their popularity among all classes
in Catholic and prejudiced Spain, and not among free-thinking students
merely, bears testimony to the fact that his aim and motive are
understood and appreciated, although his stories are apparently so often
anti-Catholic.
I
Dona Perfecta is, first of all, a story, and a great story, but it is
certainly also a story that must appear at times potently, and even
bitterly, anti-Catholic. Yet it would be a pity and an error to read it
with the preoccupation that it was an anti-Catholic tract, for really it
is not that. If the persons were changed in name and place, and
modified in passion to fit a cooler air, it might equally seem an
anti-Presbyterian or anti-Baptist tract; for what it shows in the light
of their own hatefulness and cruelty are perversions of any religion,
any creed. It is not, however, a tract at all; it deals in artistic
largeness with the passion of bigotry, as it deals with the passion of
love, the passion of ambition, the passion of revenge. But Galdos
is Spanish and Catholic, and for him the bigotry wears a Spanish and
Catholic face. That is all.
Up to a certain time, I believe, Galdos wrote romantic or idealistic
novels, and one of these I have read, and it tired me very much. It was
called "Marianela," and it surprised me the more because I was already
acquainted with his later work, which is all realistic. But one does not
turn realist in a single night, and although the change in Galdos was
rapid it was not quite a lightning change; perhaps because it was
not merely an outward change, but artistically a change of heart. His
acceptance in his quality of realist was much more instant than his
conversion, and vastly wider; for we are told by the critic whom I have
been quoting that Galdos's earlier efforts, which he called _Episodios
Nacionales_, never had the vogue which his realistic novels have
enjoyed.
These were, indeed, tendencious, if I may Anglicize a very necessary
word from the Spanish _tendencioso_. That is, they dealt with very
obvious problems, and had very distinct and poignant significations,
at least in the case of "Dona Perfecta," "Leon Roch," and "Gloria." In
still later novels, Emilia Pardo-Bazan thinks, he has comprehended that
"the novel of to-day must take note of the ambient truth, and realize
the beautiful with freedom and independence." This valiant lady, in
the campaign for realism which she made under the title of "La Cuestion
Palpitante"--one of the best and strongest books on the subject--counts
him first among Spanish realists, as Clarin counts him first among
Spanish novelists. "With a certain fundamental humanity," she says,
"a certain magisterial simplicity in his creations, with the natural
tendency of his clear intelligence toward the truth, and with the
frankness of his observation, the great novelist was always disposed
to pass over to realism with arms and munitions; but his aesthetic
inclinations were idealistic, and only in his latest works has he
adopted the method of the modern novel, fathomed more and more the human
heart, and broken once for all with the picturesque and with the typical
personages, to embrace the earth we tread."
For her, as I confess for me, "Dona Perfecta" is not realistic
enough--realistic as it is; for realism at its best is not tendencious.
It does not seek to grapple with human problems, but is richly content
with portraying human experiences; and I think Senora Pardo-Bazan is
right in regarding "Dona Perfecta" as transitional, and of a period when
the author had not yet assimilated in its fullest meaning the faith he
had imbibed.
II
Yet it is a great novel, as I said; and perhaps because it is
transitional it will please the greater number who never really arrive
anywhere, and who like to find themselves in good company _en route_. It
is so far like life that it is full of significations which pass beyond
the persons and actions involved, and envelop the reader, as if he too
were a character of the book, or rather as if its persons were men
and women of this thinking, feeling, and breathing world, and he must
recognize their experiences as veritable facts. From the first moment
to the last it is like some passage of actual events in which you cannot
withhold your compassion, your abhorrence, your admiration, any more
than if they took place within your personal knowledge. Where they
transcend all facts of your personal knowledge, you do not accuse them
of improbability, for you feel their potentiality in yourself, and
easily account for them in the alien circumstance. I am not saying that
the story has no faults; it has several. There are tags of romanticism
fluttering about it here and there; and at times the author permits
himself certain old-fashioned literary airs and poses and artifices,
which you simply wonder at. It is in spite of these, and with all these
defects, that it is so great and beautiful a book.
III
What seems to be so very admirable in the management of the story is the
author's success in keeping his own counsel. This may seem a very
easy thing; but, if the reader will think over the novelists of his
acquaintance, he will find that it is at least very uncommon. They
mostly give themselves away almost from the beginning, either by their
anxiety to hide what is coming, or their vanity in hinting what great
things they have in store for the reader. Galdos does neither the one
nor the other. He makes it his business to tell the story as it grows;
to let the characters unfold themselves in speech and action; to permit
the events to happen unheralded. He does not prophesy their course, he
does not forecast the weather even for twenty-four hours; the atmosphere
becomes slowly, slowly, but with occasional lifts and reliefs, of such a
brooding breathlessness, of such a deepening density, that you feel the
wild passion-storm nearer and nearer at hand, till it bursts at last;
and then you are astonished that you had not foreseen it yourself from
the first moment.
Next to this excellent method, which I count the supreme characteristic
of the book merely because it represents the whole, and the other
facts are in the nature of parts, is the masterly conception of the
characters. They are each typical of a certain side of human nature,
as most of our personal friends and enemies are; but not exclusively of
this side or that. They are each of mixed motives, mixed qualities; none
of them is quite a monster; though those who are badly mixed do such
monstrous things.
Pepe Rey, who is such a good fellow--so kind, and brave, and upright,
and generous, so fine a mind, and so high a soul--is tactless and
imprudent; he even condescends to the thought of intrigue; and though
he rejects his plots at last, his nature has once harbored deceit. Don
Inocencio, the priest, whose control of Dona Perfecta's conscience has
vitiated the very springs of goodness in her, is by no means bad, aside
from his purposes. He loves his sister and her son tenderly, and wishes
to provide for them by the marriage which Pepe's presence threatens to
prevent. The nephew, though selfish and little, has moments of almost
being a good fellow; the sister, though she is really such a lamb of
meekness, becomes a cat, and scratches Don Inocencio dreadfully when he
weakens in his design against Pepe.
Rosario, one of the sweetest and purest images of girlhood that I know
in fiction, abandons herself with equal passion to the love she feels
for her cousin Pepe, and to the love she feels for her mother, Dona
Perfecta. She is ready to fly with him, and yet she betrays him to her
mother's pitiless hate.
But it is Dona Perfecta herself who is the transcendent figure, the
most powerful creation of the book. In her, bigotry and its fellow-vice,
hypocrisy, have done their perfect work, until she comes near to being
a devil, and really does some devil's deeds. Yet even she is not without
some extenuating traits. Her bigotry springs from her conscience, and
she is truly devoted to her daughter's eternal welfare; she is of such
a native frankness that at a certain point she tears aside her mask of
dissimulation and lets Pepe see all the ugliness of her perverted soul.
She is wonderfully managed. At what moment does she begin to hate him,
and to wish to undo her own work in making a match between him and
her daughter? I could defy anyone to say. All one knows is that at one
moment she adores her brother's son, and at another she abhors him, and
has already subtly entered upon her efforts to thwart the affection she
has invited in him for her daughter.
Caballuco, what shall I say of Caballuco? He seems altogether bad, but
the author lets one imagine that this cruel, this ruthless brute must
have somewhere about him traits of lovableness, of leniency, though
he never lets one see them. His gratitude to Dona Perfecta, even his
murderous devotion, is not altogether bad; and he is certainly worse
than nature made him, when wrought upon by her fury and the suggestion
of Don Inocencio. The scene where they work him up to rebellion and
assassination is a compendium of the history of intolerance; as the
mean little conceited city of Orbajosas is the microcosm of bigoted and
reactionary Spain.
IV
I have called, or half-called, this book tendencious; but in a certain
larger view it is not so. It is the eternal interest of passion working
upon passion, not the temporary interest of condition antagonizing
condition, which renders "Dona Perfecta" so poignantly interesting, and
which makes its tragedy immense. But there is hope as well as despair in
such a tragedy. There is the strange support of a bereavement in it,
the consolation of feeling that for those who have suffered unto death,
nothing can harm them more; that even for those who have inflicted their
suffering this peace will soon come.
"Is Perez Galdos a pessimist?" asks the critic Clarin. "No, certainly;
but if he is not, why does he paint us sorrows that seem inconsolable?
Is it from love of paradox? Is it to show that his genius, which can do
so much, can paint the shadow lovelier than the light? Nothing of this.
Nothing that is not serious, honest, and noble, is to be found in this
novelist. Are they pessimistic, those ballads of the North, that always
end with vague resonances of woe? Are they pessimists, those singers of
our own land, who surprise us with tears in the midst of laughter? Is
Nature pessimistic, who is so sad at nightfall that it seems as if day
were dying forever?... The sadness of art, like that of nature, is
a form of hope. Why is Christianity so artistic? Because it is the
religion of sadness."
W. D. HOWELLS.
DONA PERFECTA
CHAPTER I
VILLAHORRENDA! FIVE MINUTES!
When the down train No. 65--of what line it is unnecessary to
say--stopped at the little station between kilometres 171 and 172,
almost all the second-and third-class passengers remained in the cars,
yawning or asleep, for the penetrating cold of the early morning did
not invite to a walk on the unsheltered platform. The only first-class
passenger on the train alighted quickly, and addressing a group of the
employes asked them if this was the Villahorrenda station.
"We are in Villahorrenda," answered the conductor whose voice was
drowned by the cackling of the hens which were at that moment being
lifted into the freight car. "I forgot to call you, Senor de Rey. I
think they are waiting for you at the station with the beasts."
"Why, how terribly cold it is here!" said the traveller, drawing his
cloak more closely about him. "Is there no place in the station where
I could rest for a while, and get warm, before undertaking a journey on
horseback through this frozen country?"
Before he had finished speaking the conductor, called away by the
urgent duties of his position, went off, leaving our unknown cavalier's
question unanswered. The latter saw that another employe was coming
toward him, holding a lantern in his right hand, that swung back and
forth as he walked, casting the light on the platform of the station
in a series of zigzags, like those described by the shower from a
watering-pot.
"Is there a restaurant or a bedroom in the station of Villahorrenda?"
said the traveller to the man with the lantern.
"There is nothing here," answered the latter brusquely, running toward
the men who were putting the freight on board the cars, and assuaging
them with such a volley of oaths, blasphemies, and abusive epithets that
the very chickens, scandalized by his brutality, protested against it
from their baskets.
"The best thing I can do is to get away from this place as quickly as
possible," said the gentlemen to himself. "The conductor said that the
beasts were here."
Just as he had come to this conclusion he felt a thin hand pulling him
gently and respectfully by the cloak. He turned round and saw a figure
enveloped in a gray cloak, and out of whose voluminous folds peeped the
shrivelled and astute countenance of a Castilian peasant. He looked at
the ungainly figure, which reminded one of the black poplar among trees;
he observed the shrewd eyes that shone from beneath the wide brim of the
old velvet hat; the sinewy brown hand that grasped a green switch, and
the broad foot that, with every movement, made the iron spur jingle.
"Are you Senor Don Jose de Rey?" asked the peasant, raising his hand to
his hat.
"Yes; and you, I take it," answered the traveller joyfully, "are Dona
Perfecta's servant, who have come to the station to meet me and show me
the way to Orbajosa?"
"The same. Whenever you are ready to start. The pony runs like the
wind. And Senor Don Jose, I am sure, is a good rider. For what comes by
race--"
"Which is the way out?" asked the traveller, with impatience. "Come, let
us start, senor--What is your name?"
"My name is Pedro Lucas," answered the man of the gray cloak, again
making a motion to take off his hat; "but they call me Uncle Licurgo.
Where is the young gentleman's baggage?"
"There it is--there under the cloak. There are three pieces--two
portmanteaus and a box of books for Senor Don Cayetano. Here is the
check."
A moment later cavalier and squire found themselves behind the barracks
called a depot, and facing a road which, starting at this point,
disappeared among the neighboring hills, on whose naked <DW72>s could be
vaguely distinguished the miserable hamlet of Villahorrenda. There were
three animals to carry the men and the luggage. A not ill-looking nag
was destined for the cavalier; Uncle Licurgo was to ride a venerable
hack, somewhat loose in the joints, but sure-footed; and the mule, which
was to be led by a stout country boy of active limbs and fiery blood,
was to carry the luggage.
Before the caravan had put itself in motion the train had started, and
was now creeping along the road with the lazy deliberation of a way
train, awakening, as it receded in the distance, deep subterranean
echoes. As it entered the tunnel at kilometre 172, the steam issued from
the steam whistle with a shriek that resounded through the air. From the
dark mouth of the tunnel came volumes of whitish smoke, a succession of
shrill screams like the blasts of a trumpet followed, and at the sound
of its stentorian voice villages, towns, the whole surrounding country
awoke. Here a cock
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[Illustration]
MISS ELLIS'S MISSION.
BY MARY P. W. SMITH.
BOSTON:
AMERICAN UNITARIAN ASSOCIATION.
1886.
_Copyright, 1886_,
BY AMERICAN UNITARIAN ASSOCIATION.
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
TO
POST-OFFICE MISSION WORKERS,
WEST AND EAST,
AND TO EARNEST PEOPLE
EVERYWHERE.
"_It was a very contemptible barley-loaf she had to offer, compared
with your fine, white, wheaten cake of youth and riches and strength
and learning; but remember she offered her best freely, willingly,
faithfully; and when once a thing is offered, it is no longer the
little barley-loaf in the lad's hand, but the miraculous satisfying
Bread of Heaven in the hand of the Lord of the Harvest, more than
sufficient for the hungry multitude._"
* * * * *
"_'And so there is an end of poor Miss Toosey and her Mission!'...
Wait a bit! There is no waste in nature, science teaches us; neither
is there any in grace, says faith. We cannot always see the results,
but they are there as surely in grace as in nature._"
MISS TOOSEY'S MISSION.
MISS ELLIS'S MISSION.
This little sketch of Miss Ellis's life and work owes its first
suggestion to Rev. J. Ll. Jones, of Chicago, who soon after her death
wrote: "Why not try for a little memorial of her, to be accompanied with
some of the most touching and searching extracts from the letters both
received and written by her, and make it into a little booklet for the
instruction of Post Office Mission Workers?... Can you not make it
something as touching as 'Miss Toosey,' and far more practical,--that
is, for our own little household of faith?... We do not want it
primarily as a missionary tool, but as a wee fragment of the spiritual
history of the world,--something that will lift and touch the soul of
everybody.... In short, give us an enlightened Miss Toosey; her mission
being as much stronger as Sallie Ellis was more rational and mature than
the original 'Miss Toosey'!"
No one knowing Miss Ellis could read the touching little story of "Miss
Toosey's Mission" without being struck by a resemblance in the
characters, though a resemblance with a marked difference. As one said,
"I never saw her going up the church aisle Sundays, with her audiphone,
her little satchel, her bundle of books and papers, and her hymn-book,
without thinking of Miss Toosey." In both lives a seemingly powerless
and insignificant personality, through the force of a great yearning to
do a bit of God's work in the world, achieved its longing far beyond its
fondest dreams. As I read the many letters from all over the country
that have come since Miss Ellis's death, as I realize how the spiritual
force that burned in the soul of this small, feeble, seemingly helpless
woman reached out afar and touched many lives for their enduring
ennoblement, her life, so meagre and cramped in its outward aspect, so
vivid and intense within and on paper, seems to me not without a touch
of romance. To perpetuate a little longer the influence of that life is
the object of this sketch.
* * * * *
SALLIE ELLIS was born in Cincinnati, March 13, 1835. The old-fashioned
name Sallie, at that time popular in the South and West, was given her
in honor of an aunt. She disliked sailing under the false colors of
"Sarah." In letters she usually signed herself "S. Ellis," because, as
she explained to one correspondent, "I do not know myself as _Sarah_,
and Sallie is not dignified enough in writing to strangers; so I usually
prefer plain S." Late in life, however, for reasons of dignity, she
sometimes felt forced to adopt Sarah as what she called her "official
signature."
Her father, Mr. Rowland Ellis, was born in Boston, but while yet young
removed to Cincinnati, where he still lives in a vigorous and honored
old age. Although his mother, in all her later years at least, was a
devoted attendant upon Theodore Parker's services, Mr. Ellis in early
life was a Baptist. But when the Unitarian Church was founded at
Cincinnati, in 1830, his name appears among the organizers, of whom he
is almost the sole survivor. Of that church he has always been a devoted
supporter and constant attendant. He was a leading banker of the West,
and Sallie
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CROMER***
credit
Transcribed from the 1800 John Parslee edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
[Picture: The sea shore at Cromer]
_OBSERVATIONS_
UPON THE TOWN OF
CROMER,
CONSIDERED AS
A WATERING PLACE,
AND THE
Picturesque Scenery
IN ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.
* * * * *
BY EDMUND BARTELL, JUN.
* * * * *
[Picture: Decorative graphic]
PRINTED BY AND FOR JOHN PARSLEE,
_And Sold by T. Hurst_, _No._ 32, _Pater-noster Row_, _London_;
_J. Freeman_, _London-Lane_, _Norwich_. _and B. Rust_, _Cromer_.
1800.
Preface.
BATHING places being generally resorted to during the summer season, for
the different pursuits either of health or pleasure, I have often
wondered that some little account of such as are not so much esteemed as
Weymouth, Brighthelmstone and Ramsgate, should not be published; and more
particularly where the situation of the place itself, and the scenery of
the country around, are not entirely destitute of beauty.
These considerations, added to a residence on the spot, first induced me,
for my private amusement, to consider Cromer and the scenery in its
neighbourhood in a picturesque point of view. My profession, that of a
Surgeon, leading me daily to one or other of the scenes here described,
is certainly an advantage, as the features of landscape appear extremely
different accordingly as they are affected by difference of weather, of
lights and shadows, and of morning and evening suns.
In watering places where there are neither public rooms nor assemblies,
walking and riding become the chief sources of amusement; and for
invalids it is more particularly necessary to divert the attention, by
pointing put those things which are esteemed most worthy of observation.
Few people are altogether insensible to the beauties of a fine
country,--few things to a contemplative mind are capable of giving that
satisfaction which the beauties of nature will afford.
By the same rule, also, gentlemen's seats, which are often the
repositories of the works of art, produce ample speculation for the
artist and virtuoso.
In visiting small, and I may be allowed to say, obscure watering-places,
retirement seems to be the principal object. Where bathing only is the
inducement, the place and its neighbourhood is of very little
consequence, provided it is convenient and near the sea; but where the
mind and body are capable of being sufficiently active to be amused
abroad, or to those whose aim is pleasure, a country affording that
amusement by its variety, is certainly to be preferred; and to such as
are fond of the study of landscape, variety and some degree of beauty are
absolutely necessary.
As every little excursion will begin and end at Cromer, each will be
formed into a separate section. I have before said that this undertaking
was at first intended solely for my own amusement, and with that idea I
had sketched several views, but after I had come to a determination to
hazard its entrance into the world, I found it necessary to confine
myself to one only, on account of the additional price they would have
put upon the publication.
After the excellent things which have been produced in this way, by the
Rev. Mr. Gilpin, there is certainly great temerity in attempting, even
for private amusement, any thing which bears the most distant resemblance
to such elegant productions. From which consideration, I cannot here
omit to solicit the indulgence of the public for the ensuing pages, which
are intended only as humble imitators, not as daring rivals of that
excellent master.
CONTENTS.
_Section the First_.
THE situation of the town of Cromer. The parish church a beautiful
specimen of architecture, in the time of Henry the fourth. The beauty of
its proportions injured by the necessary manner in which it has been
repaired. Accident of a bay falling from the steeple. Anecdote of
Robert Bacon. Free School. Inns. The Fishery the chief support of the
lower class of inhabitants,--also, a great source of picturesque
amusement. Boat upset. Mercantile trade. Dearness of Coals,--the
reason of it. Cromer an eligible situation for retirement. A
description of the bathing machines, cliffs, and beach. Sea-shore a
constant amusement to the artist. Picturesque effects of the storm and
the calm compared. Sea-fowls.
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THE
LAST WORDS OF DISTINGUISHED
MEN AND WOMEN
THE LAST WORDS
(REAL AND TRADITIONAL)
OF DISTINGUISHED
MEN AND WOMEN
COLLECTED FROM VARIOUS SOURCES
BY
FREDERIC ROWLAND MARVIN
The tongues of dying men
Enforce attention like deep harmony;
Where words are scarce they're seldom spent in vain,
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
--_Shakspeare_
NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
1901
Copyright 1901
by
FREDERIC ROWLAND MARVIN
(June)
To my Wife
this Book is most Lovingly
Dedicated
Neither is there anything of which I am so inquisitive, and delight
to inform myself, as the manner of men's deaths, their words, looks,
and bearing; nor any places in history I am so intent upon; and it
is manifest enough, by my crowding in examples of this kind, that I
have a particular fancy for that subject. If I were a writer of
books, I would compile a register, with a comment, of the various
deaths of men: he who should teach men to die, would at the same
time teach them to live.--MONTAIGNE.
Last Words of Distinguished Men and Women.
ADAM (Alexander, Dr., headmaster at the High School in Edinburgh, and
the author of "Roman Antiquities"), 1741-1809. "_It grows dark, boys.
You may go._"
"It grows dark, boys. You may go."
(Thus the master gently said,
Just before, in accents low,
Circling friends moaned, "He is dead.")
Unto him, a setting sun
Tells the school's dismissal hour,
Deeming not that he alone
Deals with evening's dark'ning power.
All his thought is with the boys,
Taught by him in light to grow;
Light withdrawn, and hushed the noise,
Fall the passwords, "You may go."
Go, boys, go, and take your rest;
Weary is the book-worn brain:
Day sinks idly in the west,
Tired of glory, tired of gain.
Careless are the shades that creep
O'er the twilight, to and fro;
Dusk is lost in shadows deep:
_It grows dark, boys. You may go._
_Mary B. Dodge._
ABD-ER-RAHMAN III. (surnamed An-Nasir-Lideen-Illah or Lidinillah, that
is to say, "the defender of the religion of God," eighth Sultan and
first Caliph of Cordova. Under Abd-er-Rahman III. the Mohammedan empire
in Spain attained the height of its glory), 886-961. "_Fifty years have
passed since I became Caliph. Riches, honors, pleasures--I have enjoyed
all. In this long time of seeming happiness I have numbered the days on
which I have been happy. Fourteen._" Though these sad words correctly
express the spirit of the man who is reported to have spoken them, they
are purely traditional.
ADAMS (John, second President of the United States), 1735-1826.
"_Independence forever!_"
He died on the Fourth of July, the anniversary of the Declaration of
Independence; and it is thought that his last words were suggested by
the noise of the celebration. Some say his last words were, "Jefferson
survives;" if so, he was mistaken, for Jefferson passed away at an
earlier hour the same day.
ADAMS (John Quincy, sixth President of the United States), 1767-1848.
"_It is the last of earth! I am content!_" On the twenty-first of
February, 1848, while in his seat in the Capitol, he was struck with
paralysis, and died two days later.
ADDISON (Joseph, poet and essayist), 1672-1719. "_See in what peace a
Christian can die!_" These words were addressed to Lord Warwick, an
accomplished but dissolute youth, to whom Addison was nearly related.
ADRIAN or HADRIAN (Publius AElius, the Roman Emperor), 76-138. "_O my
poor soul, whither art thou going?_"
Adrian wrote both in Greek and Latin. Among his Latin poems (preserved
by Spart
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A TRAMP'S NOTE-BOOK
BY
MORLEY ROBERTS
AUTHOR OF
"RACHEL MARE," "BIANCA'S CAPRICE," "THE PROMOTION OF THE ADMIRAL."
LONDON
F. V. WHITE & CO. LTD.
14 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C.
1904
CONTENTS
PAGE
A WATCH-NIGHT SERVICE IN SAN FRANCISCO 1
SOME PORTUGUESE SKETCHES 16
A PONDICHERRY BOY 40
A GRADUATE BEYOND SEAS 51
MY FRIEND EL TORO 61
BOOKS IN THE GREAT WEST 71
A VISIT TO R. L. STEVENSON 79
IN CAPETOWN 88
VELDT, PLAIN AND PRAIRIE 95
NEAR MAFEKING 101
BY THE FRASER RIVER 110
OLD AND NEW DAYS IN BRITISH COLUMBIA 118
A TALK WITH KRUGER 128
TROUT FISHING IN BRITISH COLUMBIA AND CALIFORNIA 136
ROUND THE WORLD IN HASTE 142
BLUE JAYS AND ALMONDS 162
IN CORSICA 167
ON THE MATTERHORN 176
AN INTERNATIONAL SOCIALIST CONGRESS 186
AT LAS PALMAS 194
THE TERRACINA ROAD 204
A SNOW-GRIND 216
ACROSS THE BIDASSOA 230
ON A VOLCANIC PEAK 238
SHEEP AND SHEEP HERDING 244
RAILROAD WARS 256
AMERICAN SHIPMASTERS 263
TRAMPS 267
TEXAS ANIMALS 275
IN A SAILORS' HOME 282
THE GLORY OF THE MORNING 293
A Tramp's Note-Book
A WATCH-NIGHT SERVICE IN SAN FRANCISCO
How much bitter experience a man keeps to himself, let the experienced
say, for they only know. For my own part I am conscious that it rarely
occurs to me to mention some things which happened either in England or
out of it, and that if I do, it is only to pass them over casually as
mere facts that had no profound effect upon me. But the importance of
any hardship cannot be estimated at once; it has either psychological or
physiological sequelae, or both. The attack of malaria passes, but in
long years after it returns anew and devouring the red blood, it breaks
down a man's cheerfulness; a night in a miasmic forest may make him for
ever a slave in a dismal swamp of pessimism. It is so with starvation,
and all things physical. It is so with things mental, with
degradations, with desolation; the scars and more than scars remain:
there is outward healing, it may be, but we often flinch at mere
remembrance.
But time is the vehicle of philosophy; as the years pass we learn that
in all our misfortunes was something not without value. And what was of
worth grows more precious as our harsher memories fade. Then we may bear
to speak of the days in which we were more than outcasts; when we
recognised ourselves as such, and in strange calm and with a broken
spirit made no claim on Society. For this is to be an outcast indeed.
I came to San Francisco in the winter of 1885 and remained in that city
for some six months. What happened to me on broad lines I have written
in the last chapter of _The Western Avernus_. But nowadays I know that
in that chapter I have told nothing. It is a bare recital of events with
no more than indications of deeper miseries, and some day it may chance
to be rewritten in full. That I was of poor health was nothing, that I
could obtain no employment was little, that I came to depend on help was
more. But the mental side underlying was the worst, for the iron
entered into my soul. I lost energy. I went dreaming. I was divorced
from humanity.
America is a hard place, for it has been made by hard men. People who
would not be crushed in the East have gone to the West. The Puritan
element has little softness in it, and in some places even now gives
rise to phenomena of an excessive and religious brutality which tortures
without pity, without sympathy. But not only is the Puritan hard; all
other elements in America are hard too. The rougher emigrant, the
unconquerable rebel, the natural adventurer, the desperado seeking a
lawless realm, men who were iron and men with the fierce courage which
carries its vices with its virtues, have made the United States. The
rude individualist of Europe who felt the slow pressure of social atoms
which precedes their welding, the beginning of socialism, is the father
of America. He has little pity, little tolerance, little charity. In
what States in America is there any poor law? Only an emigration agent,
hungry for steamship percentages, will declare there are no poor there
now. The survival of the fit is the survival of the strong; every man
for himself and the devil take the hindmost might replace the legend on
the silver dollar and the golden eagle, without any American denying it
in his heart.
But if America as a whole is the dumping ground and Eldorado combined of
the harder extruded elements of Europe, the same law of selection holds
good there as well. With every degree of West longitude the fibre of the
American grows harder. The Dustman Destiny sifting his cinders has his
biggest mesh over the Pacific States. If charity and sympathy be to seek
in the East, it is at a greater discount on the <DW72>. The only
poor-house is the House of Correction. Perhaps San Francisco is one of
the hardest, if not _the_ hardest city in the world. Speaking from my
own experience, and out of the experience gathered from a thousand
miserable bedfellows in the streets, I can say I think it is, not even
excepting Portland in Oregon. But let it be borne in mind that this is
the verdict of the unsuccessful. Had I been lucky it might have seemed
different.
I came into the city with a quarter of a dollar, two bits, or one
shilling and a halfpenny in my possession. Starvation and sleeping on
boards when I was by no means well broke me down and at the same time
embittered me. On the third day I saw some of my equal outcasts
inspecting a bill on a telegraph pole in Kearny Street, and on reading
it I found it a religious advertisement of some services to be held in a
street running out of Kearny, I believe in Upper California Street. At
the bottom of the bill was a notice that men out of work and starving
who attended the meeting would be given a meal. Having been starving
only some twenty-four hours I sneered and walked on. My agnosticism was
bitter in those days, bitter and polemic.
But I got no work. The streets were full of idle men. They stood in
melancholy groups at corners, sheltering from the rain. I knew no one
but a few of my equals. I could get no ship; the city was full of
sailors. I starved another twenty-four hours, and I went to the service.
I said I went for the warmth of the room, for I was ill-clad and wet. I
found the place half full of out-o'-works, and sat down by the door. The
preacher was a man of a type especially disagreeable to me; he looked
like a business man who had cultivated an aspect of goodness and
benevolence and piety on business principles. Without being able to say
he was a hypocrite, he struck me as being one. He was not bad-looking,
and about thirty-five; he had a band of adoring girls and women about
him. I was desolate and disliked him and went away.
But I returned.
I went up to him and told him brutally that I disbelieved in him and in
everything he believed in, explaining that I wanted nothing on false
pretences. My attitude surprised him, but he was kind (still with that
insufferable air of being a really first-class good man), and he bade me
have something to eat. I took it and went, feeling that I had no place
on the earth.
But a little later I met an old friend from British Columbia. He was by
way of being a religious man, and he had a hankering to convert me.
Failing personally, he cast about for some other means, and selected
this very preacher as his instrument. Having asked me to eat with him at
a ten-cent hash house, he inveigled me to an evening service, and for
the warmth I went with him. I became curious about these religious
types, and attended a series of services. I was interested half in a
morbid way, half psychologically. Scott, my friend, found me hard, but
my interest made him hope. He took me, not at all unwilling, to hear a
well-known revivalist who combined religion with anecdotes. He told
stories well, and filled a church every night for ten days. During
these days I heard him attentively, as I might have listened to any
well-told lecture on any pseudo-science. But my intellect was
unconvinced, my conscience untouched, and Scott gave me up. I attended a
number of services by myself; I was lonely, poor, hopeless, living an
inward life. The subjective became real at times, the objective faded. I
had a little occasional work, and expected some money to reach me early
in the year. But I had no energy, I divided my time between the Free
Library and churches. And it drew on to Christmas.
It was a miserable time of rain, and Christmas Day found me hopeless of
a meal. But by chance I came across a man whom I had fed, and he
returned my hospitality by dining me for fifteen cents at the "What
Cheer House," a well-known poor restaurant in San Francisco. Then
followed some days of more than semi-starvation, and I grew rather
light-headed. The last day of the year dawned and I spent it foodless,
friendless, solitary. But after a long evening's aimless wandering about
the city I came back to California Street, and at ten o'clock went to
the Watch-Night Service in the room of the first preacher I had heard.
The hall was a big square one, capable of seating some three hundred
people. There was a raised platform at the end; a broad passage way all
round the room had seats on both sides of it, and made a small square of
seats in the centre. I sat down in the middle of this middle square, and
the room was soon nearly full. The service began with a hymn. I neither
sang nor rose, and I noticed numbers who did not. In peculiar isolation
of mind my heart warmed to these, and I was conscious of rising
hostility for the creatures of praise. There was one strong young fellow
about three places from me who remained seated. Glancing behind the
backs of those who were standing between us I caught his eye, which met
mine casually and perhaps lightened a little. He had a rather fine face,
intelligent, possibly at better times humorous. I was not so solitary.
A man singing on my left offered me a share of his hymn-book. I declined
courteously. The woman on my right asked me to share hers. That I
declined too. Some asked the young fellow to rise, but he refused
quietly. Yet I noticed some of those who had remained seated gave in to
solicitations or to the sound or to some memory, and rose. Yet many
still remained. They were all men, and most of them young.
After the hymn followed prayer by the minister, who was surrounded on
the dais by some dozen girls. I noticed that few were very good-looking;
but in their faces was religious fervour. Yet they kept their eyes on
the man. The prayer was long, intolerably and trickily eloquent and
rhetorical, very self-conscious. The man posed before the throne. But I
listened to every word, half absorbed though I was in myself. He was
followed in prayer by ambitious and emotional people in the seats. One
woman prayed for those who would not bow the knee. Once more a hymn
followed, "Bringing home the sheaves."
The air is not without merit, and has a good lilt and swing. I noted it
tempted me to sing it, for I knew the tune well, and in the volume of
voices was an emotional attraction. I repressed the inclination even to
move my lips. But some others rose and joined in. My fellow on the left
did not. The sermon followed, and I felt as if I had escaped a
humiliation.
What the preacher said I cannot remember, nor is it of any importance.
He was not an intellectual man, nor had he many gifts beyond his rather
sleek manner and a soft manageable voice. He was obviously proud of
that, and reckoned it an instrument of success. It became as monotonous
to me as the slow oily swell of a tropic sea in calm. I would have
preferred a Boanerges, a bitter John Knox. The intent of his sermon was
the usual one at such periods; this was the end of the year, the
beginning was at hand. Naturally he addressed himself to those who were
not of his flock; it seemed to me, as it doubtless seemed to others,
that he spoke to me directly.
The custom of mankind to divide time into years has had an effect on us,
and we cannot help feeling it. Childhood does not understand how
artificial the portioning of time is; the New Year affects us even when
we recognise the fact. It required no florid eloquence of the preacher
to convince me of past folly and weakness; but it was that weakness that
made me weak now in my allowing his insistence on the New Year to affect
me. I was weak, lonely, foolish. Oh, I acknowledged I wanted help! But
could I get help here?
It was past eleven when they rose to sing another hymn. Many who had not
sung before sang now. Some of the girls from the platform came down and
offered us hymn-books. A few took them half-shamefacedly; some declined
with thanks; some ignored the extended book. And after two hymns were
sung and some more prayers said, it was half-past eleven. They announced
five minutes for silent meditation. Looking round, I saw my friend on
the left sitting with folded arms. He was obviously in no need of five
minutes.
In the Free Library I had renewed much of my ancient scientific reading,
and I used it now to control some slight emotional weakness, and to
explain it to myself. Half-starved, nay more than half-starved, as I
was, such weakness was likely; I was amenable to suggestion. I asked
myself a dozen crucial questions, and was bitterly amused to know how
the preacher would evade answering them if put to him. Such a creature
could not succeed, as all great teachers have done, in subduing the
intellect by the force of his own personality. But all the same the
hour, the time, and the song followed by silence, and the silence by
song, affected me and affected many. What had I to look forward to when
I went
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CAVALRY OF THE CLOUDS
[Illustration: "CONTACT"
CAPTAIN ALAN BOTT, M. C.
OF THE BRITISH ROYAL FLYING CORPS]
CAVALRY OF THE CLOUDS
BY
"CONTACT"
(CAPT. ALAN BOTT, M.C.)
_With an introduction by_
MAJOR-GENERAL W. S. BRANCKER
(Deputy Director-General of Military Aeronautics)
[Illustration]
GARDEN CITY - NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
1918
Copyright, 1917, by
Doubleday, Page & Company
_All rights reserved,
including that of translation into foreign languages,
including the Scandinavian_
DEDICATED
TO
THE FALLEN OF UMPTY SQUADRON, R.F.C.
JUNE-DECEMBER 1916
PREFACE
Of the part played by machines of war in this war of machinery the wider
public has but a vague knowledge. Least of all does it study the
specialised functions of army aircraft. Very many people show mild
interest in the daily reports of so many German aeroplanes destroyed, so
many driven down, so many of ours missing, and enraged interest in the
reports of bomb raids on British towns; but of aerial observation, the
main _raison d'etre_ of flying at the front, they own to nebulous ideas.
As an extreme case of this haziness over matters aeronautic I will quote
the lay question, asked often and in all seriousness: "Can an aeroplane
stand still in the air?" Another surprising point of view is illustrated
by the home-on-leave experience of a pilot belonging to my present
squadron. His lunch companion--a charming lady--said she supposed he
lived mostly on cold food while in France.
"Oh no," replied the pilot, "it's much the same as yours, only plainer
and tougher."
"Then you do come down for meals," deduced the lady. Only those who have
flown on active service can fully relish the comic savour of a surmise
that the Flying Corps in France remain in the air all day amid all
weathers, presumably picnicking, between flights, off sandwiches, cold
chicken, pork pies, and mineral waters.
These be far-fetched examples, but they serve to emphasise a general
misconception of the conditions under which the flying services carry
out their work at the big war. I hope that this my book, written for the
most part at odd moments during a few months of training in England,
will suggest to civilian readers a rough impression of such conditions.
To Flying Officers who honour me by comparing the descriptions with
their own experiences, I offer apology for whatever they may regard as
"hot air," while submitting in excuse that the narratives are founded on
unexaggerated fact, as any one who served with Umpty Squadron through
the Battle of the Somme can bear witness.
I have expressed a hope that the chapters and letters will suggest a
rough impression of work done by R.F.C. pilots and observers in France.
A complete impression they could not suggest, any more than the work of
a Brigade-Major could be regarded as representative of that of the
General Staff. The Flying-Corps-in-the-Field is an organisation great in
numbers and varied in functions. Many separate duties are allotted to
it, and each separate squadron, according to its type of machine,
confines itself to two or three of these tasks.
The book, then, deals only with the squadron to which I belonged last
year, and it does not pretend to be descriptive of the Flying Corps as a
whole. Ours was a crack squadron in its day, and, as General Brancker
has mentioned in his Introduction, it held a melancholy record in the
number of its losses. Umpty's Squadron's casualties during August,
September, and October of 1916 still constitute a record for the
casualties of any one flying squadron during any three months since the
war began. Once eleven of our machines were posted as "missing" in the
space of two days--another circumstance which has fortunately never yet
been equalled in R.F.C. history. It was a squadron that possessed
excellent pilots, excellent achievements, and the herewith testimonial
in a letter found on a captured German airman, with reference to the
machine of which we then had
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[Illustration: Cover]
[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic
text is surrounded by _underscores_.]
OVER THE SEAS FOR UNCLE SAM
[Illustration: "Only the hits count!"]
OVER THE SEAS FOR UNCLE SAM
BY ELAINE STERNE
_Author of "The Road of Ambition," "Sunny Jim" Stories, Etc._
"We're ready _now_!"--Navy slogan.
NEW YORK
BRITTON PUBLISHING COMPANY
Copyright, 1918
BRITTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC.
Made in U. S. A. All rights reserved.
_To the Honorable Josephus Daniels
Secretary of the Navy,
whose devotion to the interests of the men in the
American Navy has been an inspiration to them
no less than to the nation as a whole._
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE WHEREFORE OF MY LITTLE BOOK 11
SUNK BY A SUBMARINE 21
WAR CLOUDS GATHER 35
THE STUFF HEROES ARE MADE OF 49
DEPTH BOMBS AND DESTROYERS 61
IN TRAINING 73
ZEPS AND TORPEDOES 91
"THE LEATHER NECKS" 107
THE WAY WITH THE FRENCHIES 119
A YANKEE STANDS BY 135
A TASTE OF HELL 147
THE WANDERLUST AND THE WAR 161
UNDER THE RED CROSS BANNER 175
"ABANDON SHIP!" 191
PRISONERS OF WAR 209
FRITZ GETS TAGGED 221
THE FLOWER OF FRANCE 233
THE WHEREFORE OF MY LITTLE BOOK
We have learned some things in war times that we did not know in days of
peace. We have made the amazing discovery that our own fathers and
brothers and husbands and lovers are potential heroes. We knew they were
brave and strong and eager to defend us if need be. We knew that they
went to work in the morning and returned at night just so that we might
live in comfort; but we never dreamed that the day would come when we
would see them marching off to war--a war that would take them far from
their own shores. We never dreamed that, like the knights of old, they
would ride away on a quest as holy as that of the Crusaders.
As for army and navy life--it had always been a sealed book to us, a
realm into which one was born, a heritage that passed from father to
son. We heard of life at the army post. We saw a uniform now and then,
but not until our own men donned khaki and blue did we of the outside
world learn of the traditions of the army and of the navy, which dated
back to the days of our nation's birth.
We did not know that each regiment had its own glorious story of
achievement--a story which all raw recruits were eager to live up to--a
story of undaunted fighting in the very face of death that won for it
its sobriquet.
Because the army lay at our very door, we came to know it better, to
learn its proud lesson more swiftly, but little by little the navy,
through the lips of our men, unlocked its traditions, tenderly fostered,
which had fired its new sons to go forth and fight to the finish rather
than yield an inch.
As a first lieutenant in the Girls' National Honor Guard, I was
appointed in May, 1917, for active duty in hospital relief work. It was
then that I came to know Miss Mary duBose, Chief Nurse of the United
States Naval Hospital, whose co-operation at every turn has helped this
little volume to come into being.
The boys of the navy are her children. She watches over them with the
brooding tenderness of a mother. Praise of their achievements she
receives with flashing pride. With her entire heart and soul she is
wrapped up in her work. Through her shines the spirit of the
service--the tireless devotion to duty.
I had never before been inside a naval hospital. I had a vague idea that
it would be a great machine, rather overcrowded, to be sure, in war
times, but running on oiled hinges--completely soulless.
I found instead a huge building, which, in spite of its size, breathed a
warm hominess. Its halls and wards are spotless. Through the great
windows the sun pours in on the patients, as cheery a lot of boys as you
would care to see.
There are always great clusters of flowers in the wards--bright spots of
color--there are always games spread out on the beds. There is always
the rise of young voices--laughter--calls. And moving among the patients
are the nurses--little white-clad figures with the red cross above their
heart. Some of them appear frail and flower-like, some of them very
young, but all impress one with their quiet strength and efficiency.
I have spoken to a great many of them. They are enthusiastic and eager.
They praise highly the splendid work done abroad by their sisters, but
they are serious about the work to be done here as well. Their tasks are
carried on with no flaunting of banners, but they are in active service
just the same, nursing our boys to health every hour of the day--giving
sons back to their mothers--husbands to their wives.
It is a corps to be proud of and a great volume of credit should be laid
at the feet of Mrs. Leneh Higbee, the national head of the Naval Nurse
Corps. It was Mrs. Higbee who built up the Corps--who has given her
life's work to keeping up the standard of that organization--of making
it a corps whose personnel and professional standing in efficiency
cannot be surpassed in the world to-day.
As my visits to the hospital became more frequent, I began, bit by bit,
to gather a story here and there, from the men who lay ill--stories of
unconscious heroism--deeds they had performed as part of a day's work on
the high seas.
They did not want praise for what they had done. They are an independent
lot--our sailors--proud of their branch of service. "No drafted men in
the navy," they tell you with a straightening of their shoulders.
And from the officers I learned of that deeper love--that worship of the
sea--of the vessel placed in their hands to command. From them I heard
for the first time of the value of a discipline iron-bound--rigid--a
discipline that brooks no argument. There were stories of men who had
hoped and dreamed all their lives of a certain cruise, only to find
themselves transferred to the other end of the world. Did they utter a
word of complaint? Not they! "Orders are orders"--that was enough for
them!
And because those of us who send our men to sea are burning to know the
tales they have to tell, I have made this little collection--the men's
own stories, told in the ward to other round-eyed youths who gathered
about the bed to hear, full of eager questions, prompting when the
story moved too slowly.
What you read here are their stories--stories of whole-souled youths
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text is surrounded by _underscores_.
GARDENING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
PRACTICAL ARTS FOR LITTLE GIRLS
A Series Uniform with this Volume
_Each book, illustrated, 75 cents net_
COOKERY FOR LITTLE GIRLS
SEWING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
WORK AND PLAY FOR LITTLE GIRLS
HOUSEKEEPING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
GARDENING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
[Illustration: PUZZLE PICTURE,--FIND THE LITTLE GIRL]
GARDENING FOR LITTLE GIRLS
BY
OLIVE HYDE FOSTER
AUTHOR OF
"COOKERY FOR LITTLE GIRLS"
"SEWING FOR LITTLE GIRLS"
"HOUSEKEEPING FOR LITTLE GIRLS"
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY
1917
Copyright, 1916 by
HOUSE AND GARDEN
Copyright, 1916, by
HOUSEWIVES MAGAZINE
Copyright, 1917, by
ST. NICHOLAS
The Century Co.
Copyright, 1917, by
COUNTRYSIDE MAGAZINE
The Independent Co.
Copyright, 1917, by
OLIVE HYDE FOSTER
_DEDICATED TO
Junior and Allan,
Two of the dearest children that ever showed
love for the soil._
Preface
Children take naturally to gardening, and few occupations count so much
for their development,--mental, moral and physical
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_NEW SIX SHILLING NOVELS._
THE BLUE LAGOON. By H. DE VERE STACPOOLE.
EVE'S APPLE. By ALPHONSE COURLANDER.
PARADISE COURT. By J. S. FLETCHER.
THE TRAITOR'S WIFE. By W. H. WILLIAMSON.
MAROZIA. By A. G. HALES.
LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN.
THE WOMAN WHO VOWED
(THE DEMETRIAN)
BY
ELLISON HARDING
[Illustration]
LONDON
T. FISHER UNWIN
ADELPHI TERRACE
MCMVIII
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A Goddess and a Comic Song 7
II. Harvesting and Harmony 21
III. The Cult of Demeter 37
IV. Anna of Ann 53
V. Irene 63
VI. Neaera 77
VII. A Tragic Denouement 94
VIII. How the Cult was Founded 101
IX. How It Might be Undermined 119
X. An Unexpected Solution 127
XI. The Plot Thickens 135
XII. Neaera's Idea of Diplomacy 144
XIII. Neaera Makes New Arrangements 150
XIV. "I Consented" 162
XV. The High Priest of Demeter 171
XVI. Anna's Secret 183
XVII. Designs on Anna of Ann 190
XVIII. A Dream 200
XIX. The Legislature Meets 207
XX. On Flavors and Finance 219
XXI. The Investigating Committee 226
XXII. "Treasons, Stratagems, and Spoils" 238
XXIII. A Libel 249
XXIV. Neaera Again 259
XXV. The Libel Investigated 266
XXVI. The Election 285
XXVII. The Joint Session 293
XXVIII. Lydia to the Rescue 302
Conclusion 315
THE DEMETRIAN
CHAPTER I
A GODDESS AND A COMIC SONG
I remember awakening with a start, conscious of a face bending over me
that was beautiful and strange.
I was quite unable to account for myself, and my surprise was heightened
by the singular dress of the woman I saw. It was Greek--not of modern
but of ancient Greece.
What had happened? Had I been acting in a Greek play and been stunned by
an accident to the scenery? No; the grass upon which I was lying was
damp, and a sharp twinge between the shoulders told me I had been there
already too long. What, then, was the meaning of this classic dress?
I raised myself on one arm; and the young woman who had been kneeling
beside me arose also. I was dazed, and shaded my eyes from the sun on
the horizon--whether setting or rising I could not tell. I fixed my eyes
upon the feet of my companion; they were curiously shod in soft
leather, for cleanliness rather than for protection; tightly laced from
the toe to the ankle and half way up the leg--half-moccasin and
half-cothurnus. I fixed my eyes upon them and slowly became quite sure
that I was alive and awake, but seemed still dazed and unwilling to look
up. Presently she spoke.
"Are you ill?" she asked.
"I don't think so," answered I, as I lifted my eyes to hers.
When our eyes met I jumped to my feet with an alertness so fresh and
fruitful that I seemed to myself to have risen anew from the Fountain of
Youth. A miracle had happened. I was dead and had come to life
again--and apparently this time in the Olympian world.
"Here!" I exclaimed; "or Athene! Cytherea, or Artemis!"
Then quickly the look of sympathetic concern that I had just seen in her
eyes vanished. A ripple of laughter passed over her face like the first
touch of a breeze on a becalmed sea; for a moment she seemed to restrain
it, but her merriment awakened mine, and on perceiving it she abandoned
all restraint and burst into a laugh that was musical, bewitching, and
contagious. We stood there a full minute, both of us laughing, though I
did not understand why. She soon explained.
"Where on earth do you come from, Xenos, and where--_where_ did you get
_those_ things?" She pointed to my pantaloons as she spoke.
Then I discovered how ridiculous I appeared.
"And why have they cut all the hair off your face and left that ugly
little stubble?"
I put my hand to my chin and felt there a beard of several days' growth.
"It must prick dreadfully," she said; and coming up to me she daintily
passed a soft, rosy finger over my cheek. I caught her hand and kissed
it. She jumped away from me like a fawn.
"Take care, young man," she said, reprovingly but not reproachfully;
"though I don't suppose you are very young, for I see some gray in your
hair."
I don't suppose I liked being reminded of my years, but I was altogether
too much absorbed in the richness of her beauty and health to be
concerned about myself. And the subtle combination of freedom and
reserve in her manner conveyed to me an indescribable charm. At one
moment it tempted me to trespass, but at the next I became aware that
such an attempt would meet with humiliating resistance; for she was tall
and strong. Her one rapid movement away from me proved her agility. She
was perfectly able to take care of herself. Her consciousness of this
had enabled her to meet my first advance with unruffled good humor, but
I felt sure that persistence on my part would elicit repulsion and
perhaps scorn.
We stood a moment smiling at each other; then she said:
"Come, you must take off those dreadful things; why, you are wet
through"--and she passed her hand over my back--"and you must tell me
what you are and where you come from. But you are chilled now and need
something warm, so come to the Hall and you can tell me as we go."
As she spoke she swung to her head a basket I had not before observed;
it was heavy, for she straightened herself to support it; and the
weight, until she balanced it, brought out the muscles of her neck. She
put her arms akimbo and showed the way.
"Well," she said, as we walked together side by side, "when are you
going to begin?"
"How and where shall I begin?" answered I. "You forget that I too have
questions to ask; I am bewildered. Who and what are you? In what country
am I? Where did you get that beautiful dress?" I stepped a little away
from her to observe the beauty of her form.
"We try to make all our garments beautiful," she answered, simply; "but
this is the common dress of all--or rather the dress commonly worn in
the country. We dress a little differently in town--but what do you find
peculiar in my attire? What else could I wear out in the fields?"
I looked at the drapery, which did not hang lower than the knee; at the
girdle that barely indicated the waist; at the chiton gathered by a
brooch on one shoulder, leaving bare the whole length of her richly
moulded arm.
"I would not have you wear anything
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PELLUCIDAR
By
Edgar Rice Burroughs
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PROLOGUE
I LOST ON PELLUCIDAR
II TRAVELING WITH TERROR
III SHOOTING THE CHUTES--AND AFTER
IV FRIENDSHIP AND TREACHERY
V SURPRISES
VI A PENDENT WORLD
VII FROM PLIGHT TO PLIGHT
VIII CAPTIVE
IX HOOJA'S CUTTHROATS APPEAR
X THE RAID ON THE CAVE-PRISON
XI ESCAPE
XII KIDNAPED!
XIII RACING FOR LIFE
XIV GORE AND DREAMS
XV CONQUEST AND PEACE
PROLOGUE
Several years had elapsed since I had found the opportunity to do any
big-game hunting; for at last I had my plans almost perfected for a
return to my old stamping-grounds in northern Africa, where in other
days I had had excellent sport in pursuit of the king of beasts.
The date of my departure had been set; I was to leave in two weeks. No
schoolboy counting the lagging hours that must pass before the
beginning of "long vacation" released him to the delirious joys of the
summer camp could have been filled with greater impatience or keener
anticipation.
And then came a letter that started me for Africa twelve days ahead of
my schedule.
Often am I in receipt of letters from strangers who have found
something in a story of mine to commend or to condemn. My interest in
this department of my correspondence is ever fresh. I opened this
particular letter with all the zest of pleasurable anticipation with
which I had opened so many others. The post-mark (Algiers) had aroused
my interest and curiosity, especially at this time, since it was
Algiers that was presently to witness the termination of my coming sea
voyage in search of sport and adventure.
Before the reading of that letter was completed lions and lion-hunting
had fled my thoughts, and I was in a state of excitement bordering upon
frenzy.
It--well, read it yourself, and see if you, too, do not find food for
frantic conjecture, for tantalizing doubts, and for a great hope.
Here it is:
DEAR SIR: I think that I have run across one of the most remarkable
coincidences in modern literature. But let me start at the beginning:
I am, by profession, a wanderer upon the face of the earth. I have no
trade--nor any other occupation.
My father bequeathed me a competency; some remoter ancestors lust to
roam. I have combined the two and invested them carefully and without
extravagance.
I became interested in your story, At the Earth's Core, not so much
because of the probability of the tale as of a great and abiding wonder
that people should be paid real money for writing such impossible
trash. You will pardon my candor, but it is necessary that you
understand my mental attitude toward this particular story--that you
may credit that which follows.
Shortly thereafter I started for the Sahara in search of a rather rare
species of antelope that is to be found only occasionally within a
limited area at a certain season of the year. My chase led me far from
the haunts of man.
It was a fruitless search, however, in so far as antelope is concerned;
but one night as I lay courting sleep at the edge of a little cluster
of date-palms that surround an ancient well in the midst of the arid,
shifting sands, I suddenly became conscious of a strange sound coming
apparently from the earth beneath my head.
It was an intermittent ticking!
No reptile or insect with which I am familiar reproduces any such
notes. I lay for an hour--listening intently.
At last my curiosity got the better of me. I arose, lighted my lamp
and commenced to investigate.
My bedding lay upon a rug stretched directly upon the warm sand. The
noise appeared to be coming from beneath the rug. I raised it, but
found nothing--yet, at intervals, the sound continued.
I dug into the sand with the point of my hunting-knife. A few inches
below the surface of the sand I encountered a solid substance that had
the feel of wood beneath the sharp steel.
Excavating about it, I unearthed a small wooden box. From this
receptacle issued the strange sound that I
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THE
FRIAR'S DAUGHTER
A Story of the
American Occupation
of the Philippines.
By CHARLES LINCOLN PHIFER
Author of "The White Sea," "The Giant Hand,"
"Diaz the Dictator," Etc., Etc.
40 Cents Each. 10 for $3.00. 100 for $22.00.
1909:
Published by C. L. PHIFER
Girard, Kansas
CHARACTERS.
Judge Benjamin Daft, American Governor.
Admiral Rainey, Conqueror of the Philippines.
Camillo Saguanaldo, Insurgent General and President.
Bishop Lonzello, the Friar.
Ambrosia Lonzello, the Friar's Daughter.
Rodriguez Violeta, the Papal Nuncio.
Mrs. Rizal, widow of a Filipino Patriot
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PETER PARAGON
A Tale of Youth
BY
JOHN PALMER
[Illustration: Decoration]
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
1915
COPYRIGHT, 1915
BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
TO
MILDRED
PETER PARAGON
I
Peter might justly have complained that his birth was too calmly
received. For Peter's mother accepted him without demur. Women who nurse
themselves more thoroughly than they nurse their babies will
incredulously hear that Mrs. Paragon made little difference in her life
on Peter's account until within four hours of his coming. Nevertheless
Peter was a healthy baby, shapeless and mottled.
Mrs. Paragon was tall and fair, with regular features and eyes set well
apart. They looked at you candidly, and you were aware of their friendly
interest. They perfectly expressed the simplicity and peace of her
character. She was mild and immovable; with a strength that was felt by
all who dealt with her, though she rarely asserted it. She had the slow,
deep life of a mother.
Mr. Paragon was at all points contrasted. He was short, and already at
this time he was stout. He had had no teaching; but he was not an
ignorant man. He was naturally of an active mind; and he had read
extensively the literature that suited his habit of reflection.
Mr. Paragon was the son of a small tradesman, and had by the death of
his parents been thrown upon the London streets. After ten years he had
emerged as a managing clerk.
Had Mr. Paragon been well treated he might have reached his fortieth
year sunny and charitable, with a cheerful faith in people and
institutions. But living a celibate life, insufficiently fed, shabbily
clothed, and never doubting his mental superiority to prosperous
employers, he had naturally adopted extremely bitter views of the world.
Surmounting a shelf of Mr. Paragon's favourite books was a plaster bust
of Bradlaugh. The shelf itself included Tom Paine's _Rights of Man_,
Godwin's _Political Justice_, and the works of Voltaire in forty English
volumes. Mr. Paragon talked the language of Godwin's philosophic day.
Priests, kings, aristocracies, and governments were his familiar bogies.
He went every Sunday to a Labour church where extracts from Shelley and
Samuel Butler were read by the calendar; and he was a successful orator
of a powerful group of rebels among the railwaymen.
Mr. Paragon was more Falstaff than Cassius to the eye. There was
something a little ludicrous in Mr. Paragon, with legs well apart, hands
deep in his trousers, demonstrating that religion was a device of
government for the deception of simple men, and that property was theft.
Mrs. Paragon loved her husband, and ignored his opinions. He on his side
found rest after the bitterness of his early years in the shelter of
her wisdom. His anarchism became more and more an intellectual
indulgence. Gradually the edge was taken from his temper. He began to
enjoy his grievances now that they no longer pinched him. His charity,
in a way that charity has, extended with his circumference. He was
earning £4 a week, and he had in his wife a housekeeper who could make
£4 cover the work of £6. Mrs. Paragon did not, like many of her friends,
overtask an incompetent drudge at £10 a year. She saved her money, and
halved her labour. Ends met; and things were decently in order. Mr.
Paragon was happy; insured against reasonable disaster; with sufficient
energy and spirit left at the end of a day's work to take himself
seriously as a citizen and a man.
There were times when Mr. Paragon took himself very seriously indeed. On
the evening of the day when Mr. Samuel, curate of the parish, called to
urge Mrs. Paragon to have Peter christened, Mr. Paragon talked so
incisively that only his wife could have guessed how little he intended.
"No priests," he said. "That's final."
He looked in fierce dispute at Mrs. Paragon; but meeting her calm eyes,
looked hastily away at Peter, who was sleeping by the fire in a clothes
basket.
Mrs. Paragon was dishing up the evening meal; and Mr. Paragon saw that a
reasonably large pie-dish had appeared from the oven,
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CASSELL'S NATIONAL LIBRARY.
* * * * *
WANDERINGS
IN
SOUTH AMERICA.
BY
CHARLES WATERTON.
_WITH AN INTRODUCTION_
_BY_
_NORMAN MOORE_, _M.D._
[Picture: Medallion]
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:
_LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE_.
1891.
INTRODUCTION.
Plutarch, the most famous biographer of ancient times, is of opinion that
the uses of telling the history of the men of past ages are to teach
wisdom, and to show us by their example how best to spend life. His
method is to relate the history of a Greek statesman or soldier, then the
history of a Roman whose opportunities of fame resembled those of the
Greek, and finally to compare the two. He points out how in the same
straits the one hero had shown wisdom, the other imprudence; and that he
who had on one occasion fallen short of greatness had on another
displayed the highest degree of manly virtue or of genius. If Plutarch's
method of teaching should ever be followed by an English biographer, he
will surely place side by side and compare two English naturalists,
Gilbert White and Charles Waterton. White was a clergyman of the Church
of England, educated at Oxford. Waterton was a Roman Catholic country
gentleman, who received his education in a Jesuit college. White spent
his life in the south of England, and never travelled. Waterton lived in
the north of England, and spent more than ten years in the Forests of
Guiana. With all these points of difference, the two naturalists were
men of the same kind, and whose lives both teach the same lesson. They
are examples to show that if a man will but look carefully round him in
the country his every-day walk may supply him with
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[Illustration: Book Cover]
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF
MR. VERDANT GREEN
FRONTISPIECE.
(See page 30.)
[Illustration: CUTHBERT BEDE, INVT. KT. DELT. E. EVANS, SC]
MR. VERDANT GREEN FURNISHES THE SUBJECT FOR A STRIKING
FRONTISPIECE.
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF
MR. VERDANT GREEN,
An Oxford Under-Graduate.
BEING A CONTINUATION OF "THE ADVENTURES OF MR. VERDANT GREEN, AN OXFORD
FRESHMAN."
BY CUTHBERT BEDE, B.A.
With numerous Illustrations,
DESIGNED AND DRAWN ON THE WOOD BY THE AUTHOR.
"A COLLEGE JOKE TO CURE THE DUMPS."
SWIFT.
SECOND EDITION.
H. INGRAM & CO.
MILFORD HOUSE, MILFORD LANE, STRAND, LONDON;
AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.
1854.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I. Mr. Verdant Green recommences his existence as
an Oxford Undergraduate 1
CHAPTER II. Mr. Verdant Green does as he has been done by 5
CHAPTER III. Mr. Verdant Green endeavours
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PAX MUNDI.
PAX MUNDI
A CONCISE ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF
THE MOVEMENT FOR PEACE
BY MEANS OF ARBITRATION, NEUTRALIZATION,
INTERNATIONAL LAW AND DISARMAMENT
BY
K.P. ARNOLDSON
_Member of the Second Chamber of the Swedish Riksdag_
AUTHORIZED ENGLISH EDITION
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE BISHOP OF DURHAM
[Illustration]
London
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO.
PATERNOSTER SQUARE
1892
BUTLER & TANNER,
THE SELWOOD PRINTING WORKS,
FROME, AND LONDON.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
ARBITRATION 8
NEUTRALITY 40
FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS 82
THE PROSPECTS 138
APPENDIX 165
PREFATORY NOTE.
This little work, written by one who has long been known as a
consistent and able advocate of the views herein maintained, has been
translated by a lady who has already rendered great services to the
cause, in the belief that it will be found useful by the increasing
number of those who are interested in the movement for the substitution
of Law for War in international affairs.
J.F.G.
INTRODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
It is natural that the advocates of international Peace should
sometimes grow discouraged and impatient through what they are tempted
to consider the slow progress of their cause. Sudden outbursts of
popular feeling, selfish plans for national aggrandisement, unremoved
causes of antipathy between neighbours, lead them to overlook the
general tendency of circumstances and opinions which, when it is
regarded on a large scale, is sufficient to justify their loftiest
hopes. It is this general tendency of thought and fact, corresponding
to the maturer growth of peoples, which brings to us the certain
assurance that the Angelic Hymn which welcomed the Birth of Christ
advances, slowly it may be as men count slowness, but at least
unmistakably, towards fulfilment. There are pauses and interruptions
in the movement; but, on the whole, no one who patiently regards the
course of human history can doubt that we are drawing nearer from
generation to generation to a practical sense of that brotherhood and
that solidarity of men--both words are necessary--which find their
foundation and their crown in the message of the Gospel.
Under this aspect the Essay of Mr. Arnoldson is of great value, as
giving a calm and comprehensive view of the progress of the course of
Peace during the last century, and of the influences which are likely
to accelerate its progress in the near future.
Mr. Arnoldson, who, as a member of the Swedish Parliament, is a
practical statesman, indulges in no illusions. The fulness with which
he dwells on the political problems of Scandinavia shows that he is
not inclined to forget practical questions under the attraction of
splendid theories. He marks the chief dangers which threaten the peace
of Europe, without the least sign of dissembling their gravity. And
looking steadily upon them, he remains bold in hope; for confidence
in a great cause does not come from disregarding or disparaging the
difficulties by which it is beset, but from the reasonable conviction
that there are forces at work which are adequate to overcome them.
We believe that it is so in the case of a policy of Peace; and the
facts to which Mr. Arnoldson directs attention amply justify the
belief. It is of great significance that since 1794 there have been "at
least sixty-seven instances in which disputes of a menacing character
have been averted by arbitration"; and perhaps the unquestioning
acceptance by England of the Genevan award will hereafter be reckoned
as one of her noblest services to the world. It is no less important
that since the principle of arbitration was solemnly recognised by
the Congress of Paris in 1856, arbitral clauses have been introduced
into many treaties, while the question of establishing a universal
system of international arbitration has been entertained and discussed
sympathetically by many parliaments.
At the same time Mr. Arnoldson justly insists on the steady increase of
the power of neutrals. Without accepting the possibility of "
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THE BATTLE LINE***
E-text prepared by Roger Frank, D Alexander, and the Project Gutenberg
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Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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See 30969-h.htm or 30969-h.zip:
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THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS ON THE BATTLE LINE
Or
With the Allies in France
by
RALPH MARLOW
Author of
"The Big Five Motorcycle Boys Under Fire," "The Big Five Motorcycle
Boys at the Front," "The Big Five Motorcycle Boys' Swift Road Chase,"
"The Big Five Motorcycle Boys in Tennessee Wilds," "The Big Five
Motorcycle Boys Through by Wireless," "The Big Five Motorcycle Boys on
Florida Trails."
A. L. Burt Company
New York.
Copyright, 1916
By A. L. Burt Company
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS ON THE BATTLE LINE
[Illustration: THERE WAS A SUDDEN SPITEFUL CRACK FROM THE REAR, AND
JOSH DUCKED HIS HEAD INVOLUNTARILY. The Big Five Motorcycle Boys on
the Battle Line. Page 35.]
THE BIG FIVE MOTORCYCLE BOYS ON THE BATTLE LINE.
CHAPTER I.
ON THE STREETS OF ANTWERP.
"Good-bye, Elmer, and you, too, Rooster!"
"It's too bad we have to hurry home, and break up the Big Five
Motorcycle Boys' combination, just when we've been having such royal
good times over in the country of the Great War!"
| 506.972478 | 2,399 |
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