TIMESTAMP
stringlengths 27
27
| ContextTokens
int64 2
14.1k
| GeneratedTokens
int64 7
1k
| text
stringlengths 4
63.2k
| time_delta
float64 0
3.5k
| idx
int64 0
19.4k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
2023-11-16 18:24:53.8176710
| 3,607 | 73 |
Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer,
Lesley Halamek and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Volume 109, November 9, 1895.
_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
[Illustration: FIRST IN THE FIELD.
WEATHER BREAKS. DELIGHTFUL PROSPECT! GOING STRONG!]
* * * * *
ROUNDABOUT READINGS.
* * * * *
I have been staying recently at Oxford, the home of perennial
youth--and of innumerable dogs. In fact, it was the canine aspect of
Oxford that impressed me on this occasion more than any other. Nearly
every self-respecting undergraduate keeps his dog, and the mediaeval,
academic look of the place is pleasantly tempered by these careless,
happy, intrusive, "warlike wearers of the wagging tail," who career up
the High, make the meadows to resound with their barkings, and bring
the bicycled rowing coach to eternal smash on the tow-path. There
being, roughly speaking, some 3,000 undergraduates, the floating
population of Oxford dogs cannot be less than 2,500.
* * * * *
Perhaps, however, the most remarkable thing about Oxford dogs is the
variety of their migrations. Some dogs, of course, remain constant to
one owner. Others spend their lives under the general ownership of
the whole University. These know the best rooms for bones from term to
term; they can track the perfumed ash-pan to its lair, and indulge
in hideous orgies of fish-heads and egg-shells. The most prominent
representative of this class is, of course, _Oriel Bill_, who has,
perhaps, the most gorgeously ugly and tenderly pathetic face ever
granted by nature to a bull-dog.
* * * * *
But ordinary dogs, though they remain nominally the possession of one
original owner, migrate from sub-owner to deputy-sub-owner, and thence
to pro-deputy-sub-owner, with a wonderful rapidity. For instance,
I once gave a retriever puppy to an Oxford friend. This is the
life-history of that amiable animal, so far as I can gather it up to a
recent date.
* * * * *
A. (my friend) kept the dog faithfully for a term. As he was going
down, it occurred to A. that _Ponto_ would be happier in Oxford than
in London, so when the following term began, _Ponto_, still in his gay
puppyhood, was once more found in Oxford under a different master,
B. B. kept _Ponto_ in his lodgings in the High. They were prettily
furnished; there were cretonnes, and embroidered cushions, and
handsome rugs. One day _Ponto_ was left in solitary charge for one
short hour. Upon B.'s return he found that remarkable dog sleeping
soundly, with a well-gnawed slipper under each of his forepaws, amidst
a ruin of tattered stuffs. Not a hanging, not a cushion, not a rug
remained entire. This was too much, and _Ponto_ promptly became
the fleeting property of C., a Balliol man, who changed his name to
_Jowler_ (this happened in the time of the late Master), and taught
him to worry cats.
* * * * *
After three weeks of glorious scrimmages amongst the surrounding
feline inhabitants, _Jowler_ took it into his head to get lost for
a week. C. mourned him, but took no further steps when he found him
living under the protection of D., a Brasenose man, totally unknown to
A., the original owner. D. took him home in the vac, broke him to
the gun, imbued him with an extraordinary fondness for beer, and
re-christened him "_Hebby_."
* * * * *
At the beginning of the following term _Hebby_ once more turned up
in Oxford, being then almost a full-grown dog. He again lived in
lodgings, this time in Turl Street. By this time he had acquired
luxurious habits, and was particularly fond of taking his naps in any
bed that might be handy. Having on four separate occasions covered
himself with mud and ensconced himself in the bed of the landlady, he
was not as popular as a dog of his parts ought to have been. But
the culminating point was reached when _Hebby_, having stolen a cold
pheasant and the remains of a leg of mutton, took the bones to the bed
of his master, into which he tucked himself. After this he was passed
onto E., a Magdalen man, and was called _The Pre_.
* * * * *
I cannot follow his wanderings after this point in any detail. I know
he has gone the round of the Colleges twice. He has been a boating
dog, a cricketing dog, an athletic dog, and a footballing dog. He
has been a canine member of Vincent's Club; he has waited outside the
Union unmoved while a debate, on which the fate of the Ministry hung,
was in progress. He has been smuggled into College, he has disgraced
himself, and caused a change of carpets in nearly every lodging in
Oxford. He has lived near New College under the name of _Spoo_, has
been entered at Christ Church as _Fleacatcher_ (a delicate compliment
to distinguished oarsman), and has frequented the precincts of the
Radcliffe Infirmary, and been joyfully hailed as _Pego_ by budding
doctors. I believe he is still a resident member of the University,
but his exact place of residence is more than I can tell. His original
owner endeavoured to trace him not long ago. He got as far as Lincoln
College, and there lost the clue.
* * * * *
This, I am sure, is no solitary example. Hundreds of Oxford dogs are
at this very time undergoing the same vicissitudes, through a similar
Odyssey of wanderings. And probably, if the truth were known, there
are Cambridge dogs in no better case.
* * * * *
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
"I like it muchly," quoth the Baron, finishing BARING GOULD'S
_Noemi_:--
"This scribe for publishers ne'er writes in vain;
His pen prolific, Baring Goulden grain."
And _Noemi_, if a trifle less Gouldish than Weymanish, is a tale
of stirring times, when to plunder, hack, stab, and string up a few
unfriendly fellow-creatures, who would have done the same by you if
the turn of luck had been theirs, came in the day's work; while to
roast an offender whole "all alive O," just for once and away, was,
so to speak, "quite a little 'oliday," as a special and exceptional
treat. And all these jocular barbarities were occasioned, not by any
religious fervour, or by intolerant persecuting zeal, excusing itself
on the score of anxiety for future spiritual welfare of victim, but
simply out of pure cussedness, and for the humour of the thing, much
as, now-a-days, the bowie-knife and the cord are used "down West."
Personally, the Baron gives not full credit to all these tales of
mediaeval cruelty, but the "scenes and properties" serve an excellent
artistic purpose, and so he loves them as he loves such romances as
those of _She who must be obeyed_, and _Treasure Island_. Therefore
here's to the lass _Noemi_, and, as she herself would of course say,
in response to the toast, "You'll like me the more you _Know-o'-me_."
[Illustration]
Another capital story by FRANK BARRETT, entitled _A Set of Rogues_,
is strongly recommended by the faculty; the faculty in question being
that of deciding upon what sort of book is certain to suit the tastes
of the majority of romance-readers, who, aweary of the plodding
every-day business in this "so-called nineteenth century," like to
get away from it occasionally and live, just for a change, in the
seventeenth. Stirring tale this of _A Set of Rogues_, without a dull
chapter in it: and just enough human sentiment in it to soften down
the roguery. In fact, so skilfully is the tale told that the reader
will find himself siding with "their knavish tricks"; for the hearts
of these rogues are in the right place, though their bodies very
seldom were, and their heads never, in the noose. But "no noose is
good noose," and so let the honest reader procure the book from INNES
& CO. of Bedford Street; he will come to love the scoundrels, and will
ask, with the Baron, "What on earth became of that captivating _Don
Sanchez?_" and another query, "Was the villainous old Steward really
killed?" Perhaps the author is reserving the Don and the Steward for
another romance. If so, "What will he do with 'em?" asks the
INTERESTED BARON DE B.-W.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE LAST SALUTE!
_Tommy Atkins_ (_to Commander-in-Chief H.R.H. The Dook of C-mbr-dge_)
"SORRY TO LOSE YOU, SIR! YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A VERY GOOD FRIEND TO
US!"
"In this, his first Army Order, Lord WOLSELEY wishes, in the name of
the Army, to assure His Royal Highness of the affectionate regard
of all who have served under him during his long period of
office."--_London Gazette_, November 1, 1895.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: HOPE DEFERRED.
_Old Gent_ (_pulling up, not fancying the timber_). "CONFOUND IT ALL!
SURELY ONE OF 'EM 'LL MANAGE TO BREAK THE TOP RAIL."]
* * * * *
THE TWO SOLDIERS' TEARS.
(_Some way after Thomas Haynes Bayly's "Soldier's Tear."_)
When at the porch he turned,
To take a last fond look.
(Human emotion will have way
In TOMMY or in Duke.)
He listened to the tramp,
So familiar to his ear;
And the soldier gripped his good old sword,
And wiped away a tear.
Not far from that same porch
A Tommy stood at ease,
But, as he saw, his head braced up,
And he stiffened at the knees.
"Sorry to lose you, Sir!
You've been _our_ friend, and dear!"
That TOMMY cried, and with his cuff,
_He_ wiped away a tear.
Both turned, and left the spot,
Oh! do not deem them weak,
For dauntless was each soldier's heart,
Though a tear bedewed each cheek.
As _Punch_ gives hearty thanks,
At the close of a long career,
To the gallant Duke, _he_ also turns,
And--wipes away a tear!
* * * * *
Seasonable Dialogue.
_First Dissatisfied Sportsman._ What do you think of the present
season, so far?
_Second Dis. Sport._ (_with a terrific "cold id 'is dose"_). Der
preselt seasult? You mead der cubbig season.
_First Dis. Sport._ (_correcting him_). Well, the present season _is_
the "cubbing season."
* * * * *
A YELL FROM THE YELLOW.
The "Yellow Dwarf" (in the _Yellow Book_), in an almost incoherent
scream against the literary ladies and gentlemen of the day, wails as
follows:--
"The bagman and the stockbroker's clerk (and their lady
wives and daughters) 'ave usurped his (the 'gentleman and
scholar''s) plyce, and his influence on readers; and the
pressman has picked up his fallen pen--the pressman, Sir, or
the press-woman!... With an illiterate reading mob howling at
our doors, and a tribe of pressmen scribbling at our tables,
what, in the name of the universe, can we expect? What we get;
not so?"
Well, "what we get" is (among other things) the above shriek of the
"Yellow Dwarf," who seems to do his full share of the "howling" he
attributes to the "reading mob," and who, indeed, might be better
described as the "_Yeller_ Dwarf."
* * * * *
On a Sympathetic Actress.
AIR--"_The Widow Malone._"
To the Garrick Theayter you'll roam,
You'll roam,
Where MARION TERRY'S at home,
At home.
She melts all the hearts
Of the swains in such parts
As she plays in a play by JEROME,
JEROME.
Not much of a play by JEROME.
* * * * *
Why should "All Souls," Oxford, be always a distinguished college?
Because it could not be "all souls" without "somebodies" in it.
* * * * *
BENN AND JIM.
_A Pathetic_ (_L. C. C._) _Ballad._
[See recent controversy between Mr. BENN and Lord JAMES in the
_Times_.]
BENN, an L. C. C. fighter bold,
Was used to war's alarms;
And when JIM knocked him off his legs,
He wouldn't lay down his arms.
He cried. "I will not quit the field,
Though HEREFORD JIM may shoot;
And though to stand on I've no leg,
I will not budge a foot!"
Now HEREFORD JIM, a gunner smart,
Riddled BENN fore and aft.
Cried BENN, "Although my decks he's swept,
He has not sunk my _craft_."
Says JIM, "Those shanks are not live limbs,
They're only party pegs!
You have as wooden members quite,
As represent your legs!"
"Alive--and kicking, still am I!"
Says BENN, with huge elation;
"But if you think my legs are dead,
Let's have--an arbitration!"
Says JIM, "They are mere timber-toes,
Though as live limbs you sport 'em,
Though arbitrators have their use,
They do not sit _post-mortem!_
"A coroner sits on a _corpse_,
To find out how he died."
The _Times_ then "sat on" BENN, and found
A _mis_take in his inside.
* * * * *
THE "RUBBER INDUSTRY."--Evidently whist.
* * * * *
LEAVES FROM THE HIGHLAND JOURNAL OF TOBY, M.P.
FIRST LEAF.--THE THING TO DO IN SCOTLAND.
_Quiverfield, Haddingtonshire, Monday._--You can't spend twenty-four
hours at Quiverfield without having borne in upon you the truth that
the only thing to do in Scotland is to play goff. (On other side of
Tweed they call it golf. Here we are too much in a hurry to get at
the game to spend time on unnecessary consonant.) The waters of
what VICTOR HUGO called "The First of the Fourth" lave the links at
Quiverfield. Blue as the Mediterranean they have been in a marvellous
autumn, soon to lapse into November. We can see the Bass Rock from the
eighth hole, and can almost hear the whirr of the balls skimming with
| 547.137081 | 2,600 |
2023-11-16 18:24:54.3417930
| 2,332 | 81 |
Produced by Karin Spence and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
COMPLIMENTS OF THE AUTHOR TO
[Illustration: Anson Mills]
[Illustration: Hannah Cassel Mills]
MY STORY
BY
ANSON MILLS
BRIGADIER GENERAL, U. S. A.
EDITED BY C. H. CLAUDY
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR
1918
PRESS OF BYRON S. ADAMS
WASHINGTON, D. C.
COPYRIGHT 1918
BY ANSON MILLS, BRIG.-GEN. U. S. A.
CONTENTS
FIRST PERIOD
PAGE
My Ancestors 25
Privations of the Early Pioneers 31
Charlotteville Academy 37
West Point Military Academy 41
Early Days in Texas 48
El Paso Experiences 51
In Washington 64
My Brothers in Texas 69
SECOND PERIOD
Four Years of Civil War 78
After the War 102
Marriage 114
THIRD PERIOD
Travels West and East 123
Nannie's Impressions of the West 135
Western Experiences 152
Detail to Paris Exposition 177
Out West Again 186
Brevet Commissions in the Army 209
In Washington Again 213
Consolidation of the El Paso and Juarez Street Railways 251
The Reformation of El Paso 253
Mexico 258
Equitable Distribution of the Waters of the Rio Grande 263
Boundary Commission 281
Woman's Suffrage 307
Prohibition 310
Trip to Europe with General Miles 312
My Cartridge Belt Equipment 314
The League to Enforce Peace 332
Trial by Combat 341
Personal Trial by Combat 341
National Trial by Combat 349
Honolulu 355
Conclusion 357
APPENDICES
The Organization and Administration of the United States Army 361
Address before the Society of the Army of the Cumberland 382
Address before the Order of Indian Wars, on "The Battle of the
Rosebud" 394
INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Anson and Nannie, day before marriage 117
Anson, day before marriage, with "Big Four" Cassel girls 117
Banco de Santa Margarita 290, 291
Batchelder, Frank R. 254
Bisbee, Brigadier General William H. 101
Blanco, Jacobo 279
Bridger, Jim 154
Burckhalter, Marietta 29
Burges, Richard F. 295
Cannon, Speaker Joseph 235
Cartridge Belt Equipment 315, 316, 319, 320, 323, 324, 327, 328
Caldwell, Menger 241
Caldwell, Sally 241
Cassel, Mr. and Mrs., with "Auntie" 120
Chamizal Arbitration Commission 296
Clark, Speaker Champ 234
Cleveland, President Grover 226
Cody, W. F. (Buffalo Bill) 154
Commanding Officer's quarters at Ft. Grant 196
Dennis, William C. 295
Dewey, Admiral George 236
Duelling pistols 340
Fairbanks, Vice-President Charles W. 250
Father and son at fifty-eight and thirteen years 205
Follett, W. W. 274
Freeman, Brigadier General H. B. 101
Granddaughters, Nancy, Constance and Mabel 240
Happer, John A. 254
Hazlett, Captain Charles E. 67
Hoar, Senator George F. 228
Horcon cut-off 288, 289
Joint Boundarv Commission 280
Keblinger, W. Wilbur 254
Kelly, Dora Miller 241
Kline, Kathleen Cassel 244
Little Anson at five, and Constance at two years 187
Little Anson at seventeen months and twelve years 218
Little Anson's company at Ft. Grant 194
McKinley, President William 227
Map of El Paso 56, 57
Map, Showing the Principal Engagements, Sioux War 399
Map, Battle of the Rosebud 403
Martin, Captain Carl Anson 244
Martin, Caroline Mills 29
Miles, General Nelson A. 12
Miller, Martin V. B. 241
Mills, Allen 28
Mills, Anson 2
Mills, Emmett 28
Mills, Hannah Cassel 3
Mills, James P. 29
Mills, W. W. 28
Mills Building, El Paso 247
Mills Building, Washington, D. C. 246
Mills Memorial Fountain, Thorntown, Indiana 242
Moral Suasion Horse at Fort Bridger 110
My abandoned birthplace 39
My family and Commanding Officer's quarters at Ft. Thomas 191
My father and his daughters 29
Myself with brothers 28
Nannie and Constance at Ft. Grant 202
Nannie's family Bible inscription 185
Nannie's residence at Gloucester (Bayberry Ledge) 248
Nannie's travels (graphic map) 216, 217
Nannie 215
Nettleton, Colonel E. S. 274
No Flesh (Brulé Chief) 159
No Flesh Battle Picture 160, 161
Orndorff, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas C. 330
Our sitting room at Ft. Grant 198
Our residence in Washington 224
Overton (Captain) with Nancy 239
Overton, Constance Mills 239
Picnic at Ft. Thomas 192
Powell, Major James W. 274
Puga, F. Beltran y 279
Robertson, Jack 154
Root, Senator Elihu 229
Scales and Armor 88
Schley, Admiral Winfield Scott 237
Shepherd, Brigadier General O. L. 101
Smiley, Eliza Jane 29
Spotted Tail (Brulé Chief) 159
Steedman, Major General James B. 101
Stevens, Horace B. 254
Street in El Paso, 1870 188
Summer Camp on Graham Mountain 201
Tepee and capturing officers at Slim Buttes 110
Wilson, Brigadier General John M. (classmate) 249
[Illustration:
_To General Anson Mills
from his friend
Nelson A. Miles_
_Lieut-General U. S. Army_
]
PREFACE
WASHINGTON, D. C., December 12, 1917.
The record of important events in human affairs as they are placed
upon the pages of history and drift into the shadows of the past,
should be recorded with sacred fidelity. The historian who places
accurate and important knowledge at the disposal of the present and
future students and writers is a public benefactor for those not only
of his own time, but for the generations that shall follow.
The achievements and failures, the evils and blessings, the
benevolence and the injustice, the rights and wrongs, the ambitions,
wisdom and intelligence, the happiness and nobility, as well as the
distress and sacrifice of a race or people rightly recorded, forms an
invaluable guide and chart for the innumerable throng that occupy the
field of activities and in their turn pass on to be replaced by others.
Doubly fortunate is the one who takes an important and distinguished
part in the important events of his time, and then can write an
account of those events for the instruction and benefit of others. It
is doubtful if any epoch in history was more important or freighted
with more difficult or greater problems to be solved than those
presented during the time just preceding, during and subsequent to our
great Civil War.
The great Republic formed after seven years of valor and sacrifice
from thirteen weak and scattered colonies, had, through several
decades of unprecedented development and prosperity, become a most
powerful homogeneous nation. In its creation and progress, there was
left one element of discord; one vexed question remained unsettled
that threatened to dismember the government, destroy the federation
and seriously embarrass our advance toward a higher civilization. When
reason became dethroned, logic and argument failed, the problem had to
be settled by the dread arbitrament of war.
The young men, the very flower of our national manhood, were required
to decide that great problem. For the very important duties of
citizenship and soldier, the distinguished author of this volume was
well equipped for the important duties of that time and to render
important service for his government and the people of our country.
Descending from the best of ancestral stock, born and reared in what
was known as the Great Middle West, in an atmosphere of national
independence, a region of our country where we find the highest type
of our American civilization, he grew to manhood under the most
favored auspices. Educated at excellent schools and institutions of
learning, his mind became well stored with useful knowledge concerning
his own country and the world. He then went to that famous military
academy, West Point, where he acquired a thorough military training
and those manly attributes for which the institution is noted.
His mind naturally sought wider fields of usefulness, and when he
resigned, he became identified with that marvelous civil development
that has transformed a vast wilderness and mountain waste into
productive communities and States.
As a civil engineer, he was most useful and successful
| 547.661203 | 2,601 |
2023-11-16 18:24:54.5068540
| 1,313 | 145 |
E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Jeannie Howse, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/) from
page images generously made available by the Home Economics Archive:
Research, Tradition and History, Albert R. Mann Library, Cornell
University (http://hearth.library.cornell.edu/)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through the
Home Economics Archive: Research, Tradition and History,
Albert R. Mann Library, Cornell University. See
http://hearth.library.cornell.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=hearth;idno=4765412
+------------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Notes: |
| |
| A number of obvious typographical errors have been |
| corrected in this text. For a complete list, please |
| see the end of this document. |
| |
| This document has inconsistent hyphenation. |
| |
| Greek has been transliterated and marked with + marks |
| |
+------------------------------------------------------------+
SEX IN EDUCATION;
Or, A Fair Chance for Girls.
by
EDWARD H. CLARKE, M.D.,
Member of the Massachusetts Medical Society;
Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences;
Late Professor of Materia Medica in Harvard College,
Etc., Etc.
Boston:
James R. Osgood and Company,
(Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co.)
1875.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
Edward H. Clarke,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington
Boston:
Stereotyped and Printed by Rand, Avery, & Co.
"An American female constitution, which collapses just in the
middle third of life, and comes out vulcanized India-rubber,
if it happen to live through the period when health and
strength are most wanted."
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES: _Autocrat of the Breakfast Table_.
"He reverenced and upheld, in every form in which it came
before him, _womanhood_.... What a woman should demand is
respect for her as she is a woman. Let her first lesson be,
with sweet Susan Winstanley, _to reverence her sex_."
CHARLES LAMB: _Essays of Elia_.
"We trust that the time now approaches when man's condition
shall be progressively improved by the force of reason and
truth, when the brute part of nature shall be crushed, that
the god-like spirit may unfold."
GUIZOT: _History of Civilization_, I., 34.
CONTENTS.
PART I.
INTRODUCTORY 11
PART II.
CHIEFLY PHYSIOLOGICAL 31
PART III.
CHIEFLY CLINICAL 61
PART IV.
CO-EDUCATION 118
PART V.
THE EUROPEAN WAY 162
PREFACE.
About a year ago the author was honored by an invitation to address
the New-England Women's Club in Boston. He accepted the invitation,
and selected for his subject the relation of sex to the education of
women. The essay excited an unexpected amount of discussion. Brief
reports of it found their way into the public journals. Teachers and
others interested in the education of girls, in different parts of the
country, who read these reports, or heard of them, made inquiry, by
letter or otherwise, respecting it. Various and conflicting criticisms
were passed upon it. This manifestation of interest in a brief and
unstudied lecture to a small club appeared to the author to indicate a
general appreciation of the importance of the theme he had chosen,
compelled him to review carefully the statements he had made, and has
emboldened him to think that their publication in a more comprehensive
form, with added physiological details and clinical illustrations,
might contribute something, however little, to the cause of sound
education. Moreover, his own conviction, not only of the importance of
the subject, but of the soundness of the conclusions he has reached,
and of the necessity of bringing physiological facts and laws
prominently to the notice of all who are interested in education,
conspires with the interest excited by the theme of his lecture to
justify him in presenting these pages to the public. The leisure of
his last professional vacation has been devoted to their preparation.
The original address, with the exception of a few verbal alterations,
is incorporated into them.
Great plainness of speech will be observed throughout this essay. The
nature of the subject it discusses, the general misapprehension both
of the strong and weak points in the physiology of the woman question,
and the ignorance displayed by many, of what the co-education of the
sexes really means, all forbid that ambiguity of language or euphemism
of expression should be employed in the discussion. The subject is
treated solely from the standpoint of physiology. Technical terms
have been employed, only where their use is more exact or less
offensive than common ones.
If the publication of this brief memoir does nothing more than excite
discussion and stimulate investigation with regard to a matter of such
vital moment to the nation as the relation of sex to education, the
author will be amply repaid for the time and labor of its preparation.
No one can appreciate more than he its imperfections. Notwithstanding
these, he hopes a little good may be extracted from it, and so
commends it to the consideration of all who desire the _best_
education of the sexes.
BOSTON, 18 ARLINGTON STREET, October, 1873.
PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION.
The demand for a second edition of this book in little more than a
week after the publication of the first, indicates the interest which
the public take in the relation of Sex to Education, and justifies the
author in appealing to physiology and pathology for light upon the
vexed question of the appropriate education of girls. Excepting a few
| 547.826264 | 2,602 |
2023-11-16 18:24:54.6913490
| 398 | 123 |
HEIR***
E-text prepared by Brenda Lewis, woodie4, and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Canada Team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from page
images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illuminations.
See 33664-h.htm or 33664-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33664/33664-h/33664-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33664/33664-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/norinesrevengean00flemiala
NORINE'S REVENGE,
and
SIR NOEL'S HEIR.
by
MAY AGNES FLEMING
* * * * *
POPULAR NOVELS.
BY MAY AGNES FLEMING.
1.--GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE.
2.--A WONDERFUL WOMAN.
3.--A TERRIBLE SECRET.
4.--NORINE'S REVENGE.
5.--A MAD MARRIAGE.
6.--ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY.
7.--KATE DANTON.
8.--SILENT AND TRUE.
9.--HEIR OF CHARLTON.
10.--CARRIED BY STORM.
11.--LOST FOR A WOMAN.
12.--A WIFE'S TRAGEDY.
13.--A CHANGED HEART.
14.--PRIDE AND PASSION.
15.--SHARING HER CRIME.
| 548.010759 | 2,603 |
2023-11-16 18:24:54.7145130
| 1,121 | 423 |
CLEARANCES***
E-text prepared by Henry Flower and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team (http://www.pgdp.net from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive/American Libraries (https://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/historyofhighlan00mackrich
THE HISTORY OF THE HIGHLAND CLEARANCES
by
ALEXANDER MACKENZIE, F.S.A., Scot.
With a New Introduction by Ian Macpherson, M.P.
“Truth is stranger than fiction.”
P. J. O’Callaghan,
132-134 West Nile Street, Glasgow.
First Edition 1883.
Second Edition, altered and revised 1914.
CONTENTS.
EDITOR’S PREFACE, 7
INTRODUCTION, 9
SUTHERLAND--
Alexander Mackenzie on the Clearances, 19
The Rev. Donald Sage on the Sutherland Clearances, 32
General Stewart of Garth on the Sutherland Clearances, 41
Hugh Miller on the Sutherland Clearances, 52
Mr. James Loch on Sutherland Improvements, 69
Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe on the Sutherland Clearances, 78
Reply to Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe by Donald Macleod, 88
TRIAL OF PATRICK SELLAR, 115
ROSS-SHIRE--
Glencalvie, 128
The Eviction of the Rosses, 134
Kintail, 143
Coigeach, 144
Strathconon, 144
The Black Isle, 146
The Island of Lewis, 147
Mr. Alexander Mackenzie on the Leckmelm Evictions, 149
Lochcarron, 161
The 78th Highlanders, 167
The Rev. Dr. John Kennedy on the Ross-shire Clearances, 169
INVERNESS-SHIRE--
Glengarry, 170
Strathglass, 187
Guisachan, 193
Glenelg, 194
Glendesseray and Locharkaig, 196
THE HEBRIDES--
North Uist, 198
Boreraig and Suisinish, Isle of Skye, 202
A Contrast, 212
South Uist and Barra, 213
The Island of Rum, 222
ARGYLLSHIRE--
The Island of Mull, 228
Ardnamurchan, 232
Morven, 235
Glenorchy, 237
BUTESHIRE--
Arran, 240
PERTHSHIRE--
Rannoch, 242
Breadalbane, 245
NOTABLE DICTA--
The Rev. Dr. Maclachlan, 247
A Highland Sheriff, 253
The Wizard of the North, 254
A Continental Historian, 254
Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace, 255
A French Economist, 259
Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, 263
Hardships Endured by First Emigrants, 264
An Evicting Agent, 271
An Octogenarian Gael, 274
STATISTICAL STATEMENT--
Showing the Population in 1831, 1841, 1851, 1881, and
1911, of all Parishes in whole or in part in the Counties
of Perth, Argyll, Inverness, Ross and
Cromarty, Caithness, and Sutherland, 278-282
APPENDICES, 283
EDITOR’S PREFACE
TO SECOND EDITION.
Mackenzie’s _History of the Highland Clearances_, with its thrilling
and almost incredible narratives of oppression and eviction, has
been for a long time out of print. In view of the current movement,
described by Mr. Asquith as an “organised campaign against the present
system of land tenure,” it has occurred to the holder of the copyright,
Mr. Eneas Mackay, publisher, Stirling, that, at the present juncture,
a re-issue might be expediently prepared. He recognised that the story
of the great upheaval which, early in the nineteenth century, took
place among the Highland crofters would be of undoubted interest and
utility to those who follow the efforts now put forth to settle the
land question in Scotland. At his request I readily undertook the task
of re-editing.
The circumstances, or points of view, having changed in no slight
measure since the first appearance of the work, I decided to subject
it to a pretty thorough revision--to excise a large mass of irrelevant
matter and to introduce several fresh
| 548.033923 | 2,604 |
2023-11-16 18:24:54.7577500
| 428 | 101 |
Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
ENCHANTED INDIA
[Illustration BOJIDAR KARAGEORGEVITCH: and signature]
ENCHANTED INDIA
BY
PRINCE BOJIDAR KARAGEORGEVITCH
[Illustration: Logo]
HARPER & BROTHERS
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
1899
*** _"Enchanted India," which was written in French by
Prince Bojidar Karageorgevitch, and translated by Clara Bell, is
now published in advance of the edition in the original language._
TO MY FRIEND
M. H. SPIELMANN
CONTENTS
PAGE
AT SEA 1, 305
BOMBAY 3, 91, 302
ELLORA 36
NANDGAUN 46
BARODA 50
AHMEDABAD 55
PALITANA 64
BHAWNAGAR 84
HYDERABAD 92
TRICHINOPOLY 107
MADURA 114
TUTICORIN 123
COLOMBO 123
KANDY 125
MADRAS 133
CALCUTTA 139
DARJEELING 145
BENARES 154
ALLAHABAD 181
LUCKNOW 185
CAWNPORE 189
GWALIOR 199
AGRA 204
JEYPOOR 213
DELHI 216, 299
AMRITSUR 233
LAHORE 235
RAWAL PINDI 238
PESHAWUR 241
MURREE 253
| 548.07716 | 2,605 |
2023-11-16 18:24:54.7911700
| 1,077 | 391 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
TERESA OF WATLING STREET
A Fantasia On Modern Themes
By Arnold Bennett
With Eight Illustrations By Frank Gillett
London: Chatto & Windum
1904
[Illustration: 0013]
[Illustration: 0016]
TERESA OF WATLING STREET
CHAPTER I--THE BANK
Since money is the fount of all modern romantic adventure, the City of
London, which holds more money to the square yard than any other place
in the world, is the most romantic of cities. This is a profound truth,
but people will not recognise it. There is no more prosaic person than
your bank clerk, who ladles out romance from nine to four with a copper
trowel without knowing it. There is no more prosaic building than your
stone-faced banking office, which hums with romance all day, and never
guesses what a palace of wonders it is. The truth, however, remains;
and some time in the future it will be universally admitted. And if the
City, as a whole, is romantic, its banks are doubly and trebly romantic.
Nothing is more marvellous than the rapid growth of our banking system,
which is twice as great now as it was twenty years ago--and it was great
enough then.
Such were the reflections of a young man who, on a June morning, stood
motionless on the busy pavement opposite the headquarters of the British
and Scottish Banking Company, Limited, in King William Street, City.
He was a man of medium size, fair, thick-set, well-dressed, and wearing
gold-rimmed spectacles. The casual observer might have taken him for a
superior sort of clerk, but the perfect style of his boots, his gloves,
and his hat precluded such a possibility; it is in the second-rate
finish of his extremities that the superior clerk, often gorgeous in a
new frock-coat, betrays himself. This particular young man, the tenor of
whose thoughts showed that he possessed imagination--the rarest of all
qualities except honesty--had once been a clerk, but he was a clerk no
longer.
He looked at his watch; it showed three minutes to twelve o’clock. He
waited another minute, and then crossed through the traffic and entered
the sober and forbidding portals of the bank. He had never before
been inside a City bank, and the animated scene, to which many glass
partitions gave an air of mystery, would have bewildered him had he not
long since formed the immutable habit of never allowing himself to be
bewildered. Ignoring all the bustle which centred round the various cash
desks lettered A to F, G to M, and so on, he turned unhesitatingly to an
official who stood behind a little solitary counter.
‘Sir?’ said the official blandly; it was his sole duty to be bland (and
firm) to customers and possible customers of an inquiring turn of mind.
‘I have an appointment with Mr. Simon Lock,’ said the young man.
The official intensified his blandness at the mention of the august name
of the chairman of the British and Scottish Banking Company, Limited.
‘Mr. Lock is engaged with the Board,’ he said.
‘I have an appointment with the Board,’ said the young man. ‘My card;’
and he produced the pasteboard of civilization.
The official read:
Mr. Richard Redgrave, M.A.,
Specialist.
‘In that case,’ said the official, now a miracle of blandness, ‘be good
enough to step this way.’ Mr. Richard Redgrave stepped that way, and
presently found himself in front of a mahogany door, on which was
painted the legend, ‘Directors’ Parlour’--not ‘Board Room,’ but
‘Directors’ Parlour.’ The British and Scottish was not an ancient
corporation with a century or two of traditions; it was merely a
joint-stock company some thirty years of age. But it had prospered
exceedingly, and the directors, especially Mr. Simon Lock, liked to seem
quaint and old-fashioned in trifles. Such harmless affectations helped
to impress customers and to increase business. The official knocked,
and entered the parlour with as much solemnity as though he had been
entering a mosque or the tomb of Napoleon. Fifty millions of deposits
were manoeuvred from day to day in that parlour, and the careers of
eight hundred clerks depended on words spoken therein. Then Mr. Richard
Redgrave was invited to enter. His foot sank into the deep pile of a
Persian carpet. The official closed the door. The specialist was alone
with three of the directors of the British and Scottish Bank.
‘Please take a seat, Redgrave,’ said Lord Dolmer, the only one of the
trio with whom Richard was personally acquainted, and to whom he owed
this introduction. ‘We shall not keep you waiting
| 548.11058 | 2,606 |
2023-11-16 18:24:54.9941610
| 1,341 | 50 |
Produced by Greg Bergquist and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
HISTORIC HIGHWAYS OF AMERICA
VOLUME 3
[Illustration: MODERN ROAD ON LAUREL HILL
[_Follows track of Washington's Road; near by, on the right,
Washington found Jumonville's "embassy" hidden in the Ravine_]]
HISTORIC HIGHWAYS OF AMERICA
VOLUME 3
Washington's Road (NEMACOLIN'S PATH)
The First Chapter of the Old French War
BY
ARCHER BUTLER HULBERT
_With Maps and Illustrations_
[Illustration]
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY
CLEVELAND, OHIO
1903
COPYRIGHT, 1903
BY
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE 11
I. WASHINGTON AND THE WEST 15
II. THE HUNTING-GROUND OF THE IROQUOIS 40
III. THE ARMS OF THE KING OF FRANCE 63
IV. THE VIRGINIAN GOVERNOR'S ENVOY 85
V. THE VIRGINIA REGIMENT 120
VI. THE CHAIN OF FEDERAL UNION 189
ILLUSTRATIONS
I. MODERN ROAD ON LAUREL HILL, (Follows Track
of Washington's Road) _Frontispiece_
II. WASHINGTON'S ROAD 93
III. A MAP OF THE COUNTRY BETWEEN WILLS CREEK AND
LAKE ERIE (showing designs of the French
for erecting forts southward of the lakes;
from the original in the British Museum) 109
IV. LEDGE FROM WHICH WASHINGTON OPENED FIRE UPON
JUMONVILLE'S PARTY 145
V. SITE OF FORT NECESSITY 157
VI. TWO PLANS OF FORT NECESSITY
(_A_, Plan of Lewis's survey; _B_, Sparks's plan) 175
VII. DIAGRAMS OF FORT NECESSITY 179
PREFACE
The following pages are largely devoted to Washington and his times as
seen from the standpoint of the road he opened across the Alleghanies in
1754. Portions of this volume have appeared in the _Interior_, the _Ohio
State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly_, and in a monograph,
_Colonel Washington_, issued by Western Reserve University. The author's
debt to Mr. Robert McCracken, Mr. Louis Fazenbaker, and Mr. James
Hadden, all of Pennsylvania, is gratefully acknowledged.
A. B. H.
MARIETTA, OHIO, November 17, 1902.
Washington's Road
(NEMACOLIN'S PATH)
The First Chapter of the Old French War
CHAPTER I
WASHINGTON AND THE WEST
If you journey today from Cumberland, Maryland, on the Potomac, across
the Alleghanies to Pittsburg on the Ohio, you will follow the most
historic highway of America, through scenes as memorable as any on our
continent.
You may make this journey on any of the three thoroughfares: by the
Cumberland Road, with all its memorials of the gay coaching days "when
life was interwoven with white and purple," by Braddock's Road, which
was used until the Cumberland Road was opened in 1818, or by
Washington's Road, built over the famous Indian trail known during the
first half of the eighteenth century as Nemacolin's Path. In certain
parts all three courses are identical, the two latter being generally
so; and between these three "streams of human history" you may read the
record of the two old centuries now passed away.
Come and walk for a distance on the old Indian trail. We leave the
turnpike, where it swings around the mountain, and mount the ascending
ridge. The course is hard, but the path is plain before us. Small trees
are growing in the center of it, but no large ones. The track, worn a
foot into the ground by the hoofs of Indian ponies laden with peltry,
remains, still, an open aisle along the mountain crest. Now, we are
looking down--from the Indian's point of vantage. Perhaps the red man
rarely looked up, save to the sun and stars or the storm cloud, for he
lived on the heights and his paths were not only highways, they were the
highestways. As you move on, if your mind is keen toward the long ago,
the cleared hillsides become wooded again, you see the darkling valley
and hear its rivulet; far beyond, the next mountain range appears as it
did to other eyes in other days--and soon you are looking through the
eyes of the heroes of these valleys, Washington, or his comrades Stephen
or Lewis, Gladwin, hero of Detroit, or Gates, conqueror at Saratoga, or
Mercer, who was to give his life to his country at Princeton. You are
moving, now, with the thin line of scarlet uniformed Virginians; you are
standing in the hastily constructed earthen fort; if it rains, you look
up to the dim outlines of the wooded hills as the tireless young
Washington did when his ignorant interpreter betrayed him to the
intriguing French commander; you march with Braddock's thin red line to
that charnel ground beyond the bloody ford--you stand at Braddock's
grave while the army wagons hurry over it to obliterate its sight from
savage eyes.
Explain it as you will, our study of these historic routes and the
memorials which are left of them becomes, soon, a study of its hero,
that young Virginian lieutenant-colonel. Even the battles fought here
seem to have been of little real consequence, for New France fell, never
to rise,
| 548.313571 | 2,607 |
2023-11-16 18:24:55.0188110
| 4,076 | 46 |
Produced by David Widger
AT SUNWICH PORT
BY
W. W. JACOBS
Drawings by Will Owen
Contents
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
List of Illustrations
"His Perturbation Attracted the Attention of His Hostess."
"A Welcome Subject of Conversation in Marine Circles."
"The Suspense Became Painful."
"Captain Hardy Lit his Pipe Before Replying."
"Mr. Wilks Watched It from the Quay."
"Master Hardy on the Beach Enacting The Part of David."
"Mr. Wilks Replied That he Was Biding his Time."
"A Particularly Hard Nut to Crack."
"A Stool in the Local Bank."
"A Diversion Was Created by the Entrance of a New Arrival."
"He Stepped Across the Road to his Emporium."
"'Most Comfortable Shoulder in Sunwich,' She Murmured."
"The Most Astounding and Gratifying Instance of The Wonders Effected by Time Was That of Miss Nugent."
"Mr. Swann With Growing Astonishment Slowly Mastered The Contents."
"Fullalove Alley."
"She Caught Sight of Hardy."
"Undiluted Wisdom and Advice Flowed from his Lips."
"'What Do You Want?' Inquired Miss Kybird."
"He Regarded the Wife of his Bosom With a Calculating Glance."
"He Even Obtained Work Down at the Harbor."
"Miss Kybird Standing in the Doorway of The Shop."
"Me Or 'im--which is It to Be?"
"I Wonder What the Governor'll Say."
"A Spirit of Quiet Despair."
"A Return Visit."
"He Set off Towards the Life and Bustle of The Two Schooners."
"For the Second Time he Left The Court Without a Stain On His Character."
"The Proprietor Eyed Him With Furtive Glee As he Passed."
"Miss Nugent's Consternation Was Difficult Of Concealment."
"He Found his Remaining Guest Holding His Aching Head Beneath the Tap."
"Mr. Nathan Smith."
"It Was Not Until he Had Consumed a Pint Or Two of The Strongest Brew That he Began to Regain Some of his Old Self-esteem."
"The Man on the Other Side Fell On All Fours Into The Room."
"He Pushed Open the Small Lattice Window and Peered Out Into the Alley."
"Tapping the Steward on The Chest With a Confidential Finger, he Backed Him Into a Corner."
"He Finished up the Evening at The Chequers."
"The Meagre Figure of Mrs. Silk."
"In Search of Mr. Smith."
"I 'ave Heard of 'em Exploding."
"He Stepped to the Side and Looked Over."
"You Keep On, Nugent, Don't You Mind 'im."
"Hadn't You Better See About Making Yourself Presentable, Hardy?"
"It Was Not Without a Certain Amount of Satisfaction That He Regarded Her Discomfiture."
"Mr. Hardy Resigned Himself to his Fate."
"The Carefully Groomed and Fastidious Murchison."
"'Why Do You Wish to Be on Friendly Terms?' She Asked."
"He Said That a Bit O' Wedding-cake 'ad Blowed in His Eye."
"Mr. Wilks Drank to the Health of Both Of Them."
"A Popular Hero."
"He Met These Annoyances With a Set Face."
"'Can't You Let Her See That Her Attentions Are Undesirable?'"
"He Took a Glass from the Counter and Smashed It on The Floor."
"The Great Thing Was to Get Teddy Silk Home."
"Captain Nugent."
"Sniffing at Their Contents."
"'Puppy!' Said the Invalid."
"Bella, in a State of Fearsome Glee, Came Down the Garden To Tell the Captain of his Visitor."
"'Get out of My House,' he Roared.
"I Do Hope he Has Not Come to Take You Away from Me."
"Are You Goin' to Send Cap'n Nugent an Invite for The Wedding?"
"Are There Any Other of My Patients You Are Anxious To Hear About?"
"He Wondered, Gloomily, What She Would Think when She Heard of It."
"'Some People 'ave All the Luck,' he Muttered."
"If You've Got Anything to Say, Why Don't You Say It Like A Man?"
"Mrs. Kybird Suddenly Seized Him by the Coat."
"Mr. Kybird and his Old Friend Parted."
"He Took up his Candle and Went off Whistling."
"He Could Just Make out a Dim Figure Behind the Counter."
"'But Suppose She Asks Me To?' Said the Delighted Mr. Nugent, With Much Gravity."
"'You're a Deceiver,' She Gasped."
"'It Was Teddy Done It,' Said Mr. Kybird, Humbly."
"Pausing Occasionally to Answer Anxious Inquiries."
"She Placed Her Other Arm in That of Hardy."
CHAPTER I
The ancient port of Sunwich was basking in the sunshine of a July afternoon. A rattle of cranes and winches sounded from the shipping in the harbour, but the town itself was half asleep. Somnolent shopkeepers in dim back parlours coyly veiled their faces in red handkerchiefs from the too ardent flies, while small boys left in charge noticed listlessly the slow passing of time as recorded by the church clock.
It is a fine church, and Sunwich is proud of it. The tall grey tower is a landmark at sea, but from the narrow streets of the little town itself it has a disquieting appearance of rising suddenly above the roofs huddled beneath it for the purpose of displaying a black-faced clock with gilt numerals whose mellow chimes have recorded the passing hours for many generations of Sunwich men.
Regardless of the heat, which indeed was mild compared with that which raged in his own bosom, Captain Nugent, fresh from the inquiry of the collision of his ship Conqueror with the German barque Hans Muller, strode rapidly up the High Street in the direction of home. An honest seafaring smell, compounded of tar, rope, and fish, known to the educated of Sunwich as ozone, set his thoughts upon the sea. He longed to be aboard ship again, with the Court of Inquiry to form part of his crew. In all his fifty years of life he had never met such a collection of fools. His hard blue eyes blazed as he thought of them, and the mouth hidden by his well-kept beard was set with anger.
Mr. Samson Wilks, his steward, who had been with him to London to give evidence, had had a time upon which he looked back in later years with much satisfaction at his powers of endurance. He was with the captain, and yet not with him. When they got out of the train at Sunwich he hesitated as to whether he should follow the captain or leave him. His excuse for following was the bag, his reason for leaving the volcanic condition of its owner's temper, coupled with the fact that he appeared to be sublimely ignorant that the most devoted steward in the world was tagging faithfully along a yard or two in the rear.
The few passers-by glanced at the couple with interest. Mr. Wilks had what is called an expressive face, and he had worked his sandy eyebrows, his weak blue eyes, and large, tremulous mouth into such an expression of surprise at the finding of the Court, that he had all the appearance of a beholder of visions. He changed the bag to his other hand as they left the town behind them, and regarded with gratitude the approaching end of his labours.
At the garden-gate of a fair-sized house some half-mile along the road the captain stopped, and after an impatient fumbling at the latch strode up the path, followed by Mr. Wilks, and knocked at the door. As he paused on the step he half turned, and for the first time noticed the facial expression of his faithful follower.
"What the dickens are you looking like that for?" he demanded.
"I've been surprised, sir," conceded Mr. Wilks; "surprised and astonished."
Wrath blazed again in the captain's eyes and set lines in his forehead. He was being pitied by a steward!
"You've been drinking," he said, crisply; "put that bag down."
"Arsking your pardon, sir," said the steward, twisting his unusually dry lips into a smile, "but I've 'ad no opportunity, sir--I've been follerin' you all day, sir."
A servant opened the door. "You've been soaking in it for a month," declared the captain as he entered the hall. "Why the blazes don't you bring that bag in? Are you so drunk you don't know what you are doing?"
Mr. Wilks picked the bag up and followed humbly into the house. Then he lost his head altogether, and gave some colour to his superior officer's charges by first cannoning into the servant and then wedging the captain firmly in the doorway of the sitting-room with the bag.
"Steward!" rasped the captain.
"Yessir," said the unhappy Mr. Wilks.
"Go and sit down in the kitchen, and don't leave this house till you're sober."
Mr. Wilks disappeared. He was not in his first lustre, but he was an ardent admirer of the sex, and in an absent-minded way he passed his arm round the handmaiden's waist, and sustained a buffet which made his head ring.
"A man o' your age, and drunk, too," explained the damsel.
Mr. Wilks denied both charges. It appeared that he was much younger than he looked, while, as for drink, he had forgotten the taste of it. A question as to the reception Ann would have accorded a boyish teetotaler remained unanswered.
In the sitting-room Mrs. Kingdom, the captain's widowed sister, put down her crochet-work as her brother entered, and turned to him expectantly. There was an expression of loving sympathy on her mild and rather foolish face, and the captain stiffened at once.
"I was in the wrong," he said, harshly, as he dropped into a chair; "my certificate has been suspended for six months, and my first officer has been commended."
"Suspended?" gasped Mrs. Kingdom, pushing back the white streamer to the cap which she wore in memory of the late Mr. Kingdom, and sitting upright. "You?"
"I think that's what I said," replied her brother.
Mrs. Kingdom gazed at him mournfully, and, putting her hand behind her, began a wriggling search in her pocket for a handkerchief, with the idea of paying a wholesome tribute of tears. She was a past-master in the art of grief, and, pending its extraction, a docile tear hung on her eyelid and waited. The captain eyed her preparations with silent anger.
"I am not surprised," said Mrs. Kingdom, dabbing her eyes; "I expected it somehow. I seemed to have a warning of it. Something seemed to tell me; I couldn't explain, but I seemed to know."
She sniffed gently, and, wiping one eye at a time, kept the disengaged one charged with sisterly solicitude upon her brother. The captain, with steadily rising anger, endured this game of one-eyed bo-peep for five minutes; then he rose and, muttering strange things in his beard, stalked upstairs to his room.
Mrs. Kingdom, thus forsaken, dried her eyes and resumed her work. The remainder of the family were in the kitchen ministering to the wants of a misunderstood steward, and, in return, extracting information which should render them independent of the captain's version.
"Was it very solemn, Sam?" inquired Miss Nugent, aged nine, who was sitting on the kitchen table.
Mr. Wilks used his hands and eyebrows to indicate the solemnity of the occasion.
"They even made the cap'n leave off speaking," he said, in an awed voice.
"I should have liked to have been there," said Master Nugent, dutifully.
"Ann," said Miss Nugent, "go and draw Sam a jug of beer."
"Beer, Miss?" said Ann.
"A jug of beer," repeated Miss Nugent, peremptorily.
Ann took a jug from the dresser, and Mr. Wilks, who was watching her, coughed helplessly. His perturbation attracted the attention of his hostess, and, looking round for the cause, she was just in time to see Ann disappearing into the larder with a cream jug.
"The big jug, Ann," she said, impatiently; "you ought to know Sam would like a big one."
Ann changed the jugs, and, ignoring a mild triumph in Mr. Wilks's eye, returned to the larder, whence ensued a musical trickling. Then Miss Nugent, raising the jug with some difficulty, poured out a tumbler for the steward with her own fair hands.
"Sam likes beer," she said, speaking generally.
"I knew that the first time I see him, Miss," remarked the vindictive Ann.
Mr. Wilks drained his glass and set it down on the table again, making a feeble gesture of repulse as Miss Nugent refilled it.
"Go on, Sam," she said, with kindly encouragement; "how much does this jug hold, Jack?"
"Quart," replied her brother.
"How many quarts are there in a gallon?"
"Four."
Miss Nugent looked troubled. "I heard father say he drinks gallons a day," she remarked; "you'd better fill all the jugs, Ann."
"It was only 'is way o' speaking," said Mr. Wilks, hurriedly; "the cap'n is like that sometimes."
"I knew a man once, Miss," said Ann, "as used to prefer to 'ave it in a wash-hand basin. Odd, ugly-looking man 'e was; like Mr. Wilks in the face, only better-looking."
Mr. Wilks sat upright and, in the mental struggle involved in taking in this insult in all its ramifications, did not notice until too late that Miss Nugent had filled his glass again.
"It must ha' been nice for the captain to 'ave you with 'im to-day," remarked Ann, carelessly.
"It was," said Mr. Wilks, pausing with the glass at his lips and eyeing her sternly. "Eighteen years I've bin with 'im--ever since 'e 'ad a ship. 'E took a fancy to me the fust time 'e set eyes on me."
"Were you better-looking then, Sam?" inquired Miss Nugent, shuffling closer to him on the table and regarding him affectionately.
"Much as I am now, Miss," replied Mr. Wilks, setting down his glass and regarding Ann's giggles with a cold eye.
Miss Nugent sighed. "I love you, Sam," she said, simply. "Will you have some more beer?"
Mr. Wilks declined gracefully. "Eighteen years I've bin with the cap'n," he remarked, softly; "through calms and storms, fair weather and foul, Samson Wilks 'as been by 'is side, always ready in a quiet and 'umble way to do 'is best for 'im, and now--now that 'e is on his beam-ends and lost 'is ship, Samson Wilks'll sit down and starve ashore till he gets another."
At these touching words Miss Nugent was undisguisedly affected, and wiping her bright eyes with her pinafore, gave her small, well-shaped nose a slight touch en passant with the same useful garment, and squeezed his arm affectionately.
"It's a lively look-out for me if father is going to be at home for long," remarked Master Nugent. "Who'll get his ship, Sam?"
"Shouldn't wonder if the fust officer, Mr. Hardy, got it," replied the steward. "He was going dead-slow in the fog afore he sent down to rouse your father, and as soon as your father came on deck 'e went at 'arfspeed. Mr. Hardy was commended, and your father's certifikit was suspended for six months."
Master Nugent whistled thoughtfully, and quitting the kitchen proceeded upstairs to his room, and first washing himself with unusual care for a boy of thirteen, put on a clean collar and brushed his hair. He was not going to provide a suspended master-mariner with any obvious reasons for fault-finding. While he was thus occupied the sitting-room bell rang, and Ann, answering it, left Mr. Wilks in the kitchen listening with some trepidation to the conversation.
"Is that steward of mine still in the kitchen?" demanded the captain, gruffly.
"Yessir," said Ann.
"What's he doing?"
Mr. Wilks's ears quivered anxiously, and he eyed with unwonted disfavour the evidences of his late debauch.
"Sitting down, sir," replied Ann.
"Give him a glass of ale and send him off," commanded the captain; "and if that was Miss Kate I heard talking, send her in to me."
Ann took the message back to the kitchen and, with the air of a martyr engaged upon an unpleasant task, drew Mr. Wilks another glass of ale and stood over him with well-affected wonder while he drank it. Miss Nugent walked into the sitting-room, and listening in a perfunctory fashion to a shipmaster's platitude on kitchen-company, took a seat on his knee and kissed his ear.
CHAPTER II
The downfall of Captain Nugent was for some time a welcome subject of conversation in marine circles at Sunwich. At The Goblets, a rambling old inn with paved courtyard and wooden galleries, which almost backed on to the churchyard, brother-captains attributed it to an error of judgment; at the Two Schooners on the quay the profanest of sailormen readily attributed it to an all-seeing Providence with a dislike of over-bearing ship-masters.
The captain's cup was filled to the brim by the promotion of his first officer to the command of the Conqueror. It was by far the largest craft which sailed from the port of Sunwich, and its master held a corresponding dignity amongst the captains of lesser vessels. Their allegiance was now transferred to Captain Hardy, and the master of a brig which was in the last stages of senile decay, meeting Nugent in The Goblets, actually showed him by means of two lucifer matches how the collision might have been avoided.
A touching feature in the business, and a source of much gratification to Mr. Wilks by the sentimental applause evoked by it, was his renunciation of the post of steward on the ss. Conqueror. Sunwich buzzed with the tidings that after eighteen years' service with Captain Nugent he preferred starvation ashore to serving under another master. Although comfortable in pocket and known to be living with his mother, who kept a small general shop, he was regarded as a man on the brink of starvation. Pints were thrust upon him
| 548.338221 | 2,608 |
2023-11-16 18:24:55.7176280
| 4,075 | 51 |
Produced by David E. Brown and The Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from scans of public domain works at The National
Library of Australia.)
HOW DOES A TREE
GROW?
OR
BOTANY FOR YOUNG AUSTRALIANS.
BY
JAMES BONWICK,
_Sub-Inspector of Denominational Schools, Victoria,
Author of “Geography of Australia and New Zealand,”
&c. &c._
JAMES J. BLUNDELL & Co., MELBOURNE;
SANDS & KENNY, SYDNEY.
1857.
PREFACE.
At the request of several Teachers, I have commenced a Shilling Series
of School Books, chiefly to be confined to subjects of Colonial History
and Popular Sciences.
The form of dialogue has been adopted with the “Botany for Young
Australians,” from a belief that the sympathies of our young friends
will be excited on behalf of the juvenile questioner, and their
interest thus maintained in the study of the sciences.
A dialogue upon Astronomy will shortly follow; being a conversation
between a father and his son, coming out to Australia, from Old England.
JAMES BONWICK.
_Melbourne, April 17, 1857._
HOW A TREE GROWS IN AUSTRALIA.
Willie was a fine rosy-faced boy of our southern colony. Though not
eight years of age, he was as healthy and merry a lad as ever climbed
up a Gum tree, picked up manna, or rode in a bullock dray.
His father had once occupied a good position in Old England; but
the uncertainties and losses of business, and the constant struggle
to uphold a respectable appearance with decreasing means, became so
burdensome to his mind, that his spirits failed, and his energies sunk.
His attention was directed to Australia, the land of mutton and corn,
the home of health and plenty. Gathering up the wreck of the past, he
left the country of taxation and paupers, and established himself on a
small farm in Port Phillip.
The young hero of our story had been a year or two in the colony. It
so happened he had a piece of land of his own, in which he proudly
exhibited some rising cabbages, a few peas, and a flower or two. His
father had given him a rose tree, which was the reigning beauty of the
bed. It was upon the occasion of his parent’s visit to the garden, that
the following dialogue took place:--
Look, father, and see how my rose tree has grown.
Indeed it has, Willie. Can you tell me what has made it grow?
The sun and the rain, I suppose.
Do you remember, when we got tired of the old slab hut, and set about
building this brick cottage, that you noticed it getting higher and
higher every day!
Yes, that was because more bricks and wood were used.
Then, if your tree increases in size, there surely must be something
added on continually: do you think the sun and rain do this?
Well, I never thought about it, father; but I should like to know why
it does grow.
Can you tell me, Willie, what a plum pudding is made of?
Yes, that I can. There is the flour, the suet, the raisins, and the
cold water. All these are mixed together.
Then let us see of what our rose tree is made.
I don’t think it so easy to tell that as to reckon up the articles in a
pudding.
Never mind, we will try. First, there is the stalk, or woody part.
When you put a piece of stick in the fire, what becomes of it?
Oh, it smokes and blazes, and then nothing is left but some ashes.
What is it which burns away?
That I cannot tell.
It is the gaseous part which burns in a flame, like what you have seen
come out of coal. But what do you call woody matter that will not blaze?
Charcoal, father. Then I understand now that wood is nothing but
charcoal and the gases. What are these gases?
The gas which blazes so readily, my dear, is hydrogen: and it has
a very strong smell too. The air we breathe is a mixture of two
gases--oxygen and nitrogen. It is only the oxygen that we take into our
lungs.
Well, that is curious.
I shall puzzle you more, Willie, when I tell you that water is nothing
but a mixture of oxygen gas and hydrogen gas.
It certainly is funny that water, which puts out flame, should be
partly composed of the burning gas.
You must also know, my lad, that hydrogen would not burn without
oxygen. You blow air into a fire to give food for flame.
But however could the plants get hold of the gases, father?
Did it never strike you why God formed leaves?
It never did, except that I thought he did it to make the trees look
pretty.
That is quite true, Willie. The good God loves beauty, and he has
surrounded us with beauty of all kinds. But he made things for use as
well as to be looked at. The leaves absorb or suck in gases from air
and water.
Then I suppose the veins like that we see in leaves conduct these gases
away into the plant.
Quite right, my boy. Where now shall we get the charcoal, or carbon, as
the learned men call it?
That I cannot find out at all.
You told me, Willie, that smoke came out of burning wood. What becomes
of it?
When I was a very little boy, I thought it went up to form clouds; but
now I know part of it turns into soot in the chimney, and that looks
like our charcoal or carbon.
It really is. As to that which comes out of the chimney, it passes
upward, and gets gradually mixed with the air. The little particles of
carbon join the oxygen, and become a sort of gas called carbonic acid
gas, which is absorbed into the plant.
How wonderful that the solid part of a tree should once have been
floating about in the air!
Do you think the leaves of a plant to be the same as the stem?
Yes, I do; for when they are thrown in a fire, they smoke, blaze, and
leave an ash like the wood does.
Just so. You know the smoke to be carbon passing into the air; but we
must examine the ash a little more carefully. If you take some ash from
the fireplace, and put it into hot water, the solid part will of course
fall to the bottom.
Will no part mix with the water?
There will be something; for if we pour off the water, and allow it to
evaporate in a dish, there will be found to be a sediment left, and
that is potash or pearl ash.
I have heard of people in the bush doing that when they could not get
soap, for they said that the potash got the dirt out of clothes.
It is a great pity that we in these colonies burn away so much wood in
waste when clearing land, Willie, without thinking of making potash out
of the ashes, for it fetches a good price.
Then there is potash in the plant. Has any thing else been found in the
ash beside that and carbon?
Yes, my lad. Sulphur or brimstone, lime, soda, flint, ammonia,
phosphorus, magnesia, and iron, are contained in trees.
But how could all these things get there?
Why, if we cannot find them in the air to be absorbed by the leaves,
they must be in the soil or ground. Now, it so happens that those
substances are to be found in different quantities in different places.
How do they get into the plant, father?
Simply by the little rootlets absorbing small particles of them, mixed
with moisture.
But do all plants require the same amount of lime, potash, soda, and
the others?
No, my dear. There are not two sorts of trees that feed upon the same
materials in exactly the same proportions.
Is that the reason, then, why some land is so much better fitted to
grow one plant than another?
The reason is, because the one soil has more of the right sort of food
in it.
Now I see that if I wanted to grow a good crop of any thing, I must
give it plenty of the food it likes best.
Yes, but not too much. For like as too much nice rich food is bad for
children, so it is with vegetables: ground may be too rich, as well as
too poor.
I have heard people say that it is not wise to grow the same thing in
the same soil year after year: why is this?
Because it would gradually consume all the food there, and then it
would starve, and look miserable.
Then my beautiful flower-bed will by-and-by cease to bring forth such a
fine show as it has done this season.
Of course it will, unless you provide your plants with fresh food.
Fresh food, father; I do not understand you.
I mean, manure must be mixed with the soil.
How is manure food for plants?
Because it contains the materials they require. You throw wood ashes
over the ground, and so add sulphur, potash, and carbon. Sea weed
manure furnishes plenty of soda. Bone dust contains lime and phosphorus.
It is possible, then, to apply to the ground the amount of solid matter
taken out of it by the plant, so that if my radish bed had some manure,
it would be as good as it was before my crop came off.
That is perfectly correct, my boy.
But how is it that a gum-tree forest is kept up, for there must be a
tremendous lot of lime, soda, flint, and the rest, removed from the
soil?
Yes, but when the trees fall, they rot, and the solid parts return to
the ground.
Oh, father, the remains are very small, compared to the living tree.
True, because the principal part of a plant consists of the gases,
which fly off, and of carbon, which unites with the oxygen of the air.
How does God bring fresh carbon to the forest?
Several ways: smoke is one source, and the breath of animals another.
What has the breath to do with it?
Every time you respire, or breathe out, some carbonic acid comes out
with air, and is carried into the atmosphere.
Why, father, you do not mean to say that my breath helps to make
cabbages grow.
The carbon passing from your body may become a part of a cabbage, or
gum tree, or a delicate tulip.
* * * * *
The next time Willie and his father were out together, the conversation
again fell upon trees. The wonder of the boy had been strongly excited
by the last lesson, and he had now lots of questions to ask. He knew
enough to know that there must be a great deal more to learn. He had
been told that trees fed the same as animals, and he felt sure that
inside there must be some entrances for the food to reach parts needing
supply. Then he sought to understand how the growing process was
managed, and especially how seeds were formed, and how the plant sprang
from them. Thus, question after question poured out from the boy’s
lips, without even a pause for a reply.
“Stop, stop, my man,” said his father; “I am not like the Hindoo
god with half-a-dozen pairs of ears, and half-a-dozen tongues. We will
go now a little deeper into the subject; but we must take one thing at
a time. What do you think of that gum tree yonder?
That is a noble fellow. What a barrel he has got for splitting paling
out of! And hasn’t he got a fine top knot? Why, that must be almost as
big as that Tasmanian tree you read about.
Oh, no; that one was 350 feet high, and was 104 feet round; while this
is not above 100 feet high, and 30 round.
Well, then, that must be a monster surely. How curious to think it was
once a tiny little thing that I could pull up with my finger! I say,
father, how many cartloads of carbon this one must have got hold of! I
fancy it has got gas enough to fill many a balloon. But how did it grow?
To answer that question, will give us some trouble, and take some time.
First, tell me all the parts of the tree.
What I cannot see is the root; then comes the stem, then the branches,
and then the leaves.
You forget the flower.
Flower! whoever heard tell of a gum flower? How funny the word sounds!
If there be no flower, how are you to get the seed?
I never thought of that. But flowers are always such pretty light
things, that one would be sure to see them a long way off on a gum tree.
But if instead of having fine red leaves, my lad, the flower had none,
and the other part was much the same colour as the leaves, do you think
you would notice it so readily?
No, father. Won’t I give a good look out for it after this; for I am
sure none of our boys at school ever talk of gum flowers, though we
often go to gather wattle blossoms.
To go on with our tree--we will take the root, and there is a Stringy
Bark blown over in the last storm.
And a strong root it has, too. How the wind must have puffed to
overcome the weight of all the gravel and clay resting on that lot of
roots, especially as they held the gravel like so many fingers. So
these are the suckers of moisture and food out of the soil.
Yes, but you do not see the real suckers. They are very small, and were
broken off and left behind. Those are called _spongioles_, because
they suck up like a sponge. They are situated at the ends of the small
fibres of roots, and have their mouths always open.
Yet I don’t see why the moisture rises. If I put my mouth into the rain
cask, the water will not rush up into it.
Your mouth is too big. Supposing you put a lump of salt near a little
water, so as to be touched, what will be the result?
The salt will gradually absorb the water, until there be none left.
After dipping the corner of a towel in the basin, and hanging it up by
the opposite corner, does not the dampness run down when drying?
No, the moisture ascends and wets the dry part of the towel.
So you see, then, that the water in small particles can arise in the
pores, or narrow openings of substances. This is because the sides
attract it, and the process is called _capillary_, or hairlike,
_attraction_. On this principle the moisture rises into the rootlets
through the spongioles.
Is that all the work they do?
Sometimes these fibres reject things not wanted in the tree, and that
often prove poisonous to its growth. Such important little workmen as
the spongioles ought not to be disturbed in their labour, and this is
what makes the difficulty in moving trees.
I know that most of those I move are sure to die. But gardeners are
more lucky.
The reason is, because they do it at a proper time.
What, father, can we catch the spongioles asleep?
Not exactly; but they only live a year, and you must take up the
tree between the time of the death of one set, and the production of
another, which is the winter season. Even then you should get up as
many fine roots as possible, for at the end of these the spongioles
grow.
All roots are not alike, father.
That is true: some are creeping, or fibrous, or bulbous, or knobbed, or
taprooted. Can you give me instances of each?
Let me see. The mint spreads underground by its creeping roots. The
potatoe is knobbed, and the onion and tulip are bulbous. The grass is
fibrous, and the parsnip has a tap root.”
* * * * *
So much for the root. Now let us look at the bark. I suppose you have
noticed the difference of the bark of our forest trees.
I know that they shed their bark, though not in the same way. The
stringy bark peels off in strings. The gum throws out fine long
ribands, waving in the wind. The iron bark sheds its thick coat in
great lumps.
But does the whole of the bark thus fall off?
Oh, no: it is only the rough, worn-out stuff. There is always bark
left. It puts me in mind of _my_ hand, that got so horny after sawing a
whole day at a big tree; for days after the rough skin got peeling off
as if it was not wanted.
Then you have more skins than one. You are just like a tree, for that
has several coats to its bark. Which is the softer, the outer or inner
bark?
The outer is hard, and the inner soft. But there is a fresh gum tree
just cut down: that will show us the barks.--Yes, now I peel off the
outside, there is a very soft, juicy stuff, a thing I feel--a soft coat
of bark close to the ring of white-looking wood.
Mind, Willie, the outside is the _cuticle_ or _epidermis_, having
pores or openings through which moisture issues at one time, and is
absorbed at another. These _Stomates_ or openings are very small; in
our Bush Pigfaces, that the Blacks eat, there are 70,000 Stomates to
every square inch of skin.
Then the tree perspires in the same manner that we do: that is odd. But
what is the middle pulpy bark, with its green colour and sticky feeling?
Botanists call that the _Chlorophyll_ or colouring matter. The inner
bark is the _liber_, which you see to be soft and fibrous like, being
full of sap.
Why, this is something like our skin, as there is a watery stuff
between our cuticle and the skin that has the blood in it. I have heard
of people writing on bark: that must have been on the liber.
It was so. The English wrote on the bok or bark, and thus we have the
word _book_; while with _liber_ we connect the word _library_. But we
shall return to the liber in another lesson.
| 549.037038 | 2,609 |
2023-11-16 18:24:56.4543680
| 384 | 69 |
Produced by sp1nd, Charlie Howard, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
KING ROBERT
THE BRUCE:
FAMOUS SCOTS SERIES
_The following Volumes are now ready_:--
THOMAS CARLYLE. By HECTOR C. MacPHERSON.
ALLAN RAMSAY. By OLIPHANT SMEATON.
HUGH MILLER. By W. KEITH LEASK.
JOHN KNOX. By A. TAYLOR INNES.
ROBERT BURNS. By GABRIEL SETOUN.
THE BALLADISTS. By JOHN GEDDIE.
RICHARD CAMERON. By PROFESSOR HERKLESS.
SIR JAMES Y. SIMPSON. By EVE BLANTYRE SIMPSON.
THOMAS CHALMERS. By Professor W. GARDEN BLAIKIE.
JAMES BOSWELL. By W. KEITH LEASK.
TOBIAS SMOLLETT. By OLIPHANT SMEATON.
FLETCHER OF SALTOUN. By G. W. T. OMOND.
THE "BLACKWOOD" GROUP. By Sir GEORGE DOUGLAS.
NORMAN MacLEOD. By JOHN WELLWOOD.
SIR WALTER SCOTT. By Professor SAINTSBURY.
KIRKCALDY OF GRANGE. By LOUIS A. BARBE.
ROBERT FERGUSSON. By A. B. GROSART.
JAMES THOMSON. By WILLIAM BAYNE.
MUNGO PARK. By T. BANKS MacL
| 549.773778 | 2,610 |
2023-11-16 18:24:56.4784600
| 1,085 | 363 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
THE BRIDE OF THE SUN
By Gaston Leroux
1915, McBride, Nabt & Co.
BOOK I--THE GOLDEN SUN BRACELET
I
As the liner steamed into Callao Roads, and long before it had
anchored, it was surrounded by a flotilla of small boats. A moment
later, deck, saloons and cabins were invaded by a host of gesticulating
and strong-minded boatmen, whose badges attested that they were duly
licensed to carry off what passengers and luggage they could. They raged
impotently, however, round Francis Montgomery, F.R.S., who sat enthroned
on a pile of securely locked boxes in which were stored his cherished
manuscripts and books.
It was in vain that they told him it would be two full hours before the
ship came alongside the Darsena dock. Nothing would part him from his
treasures, nothing induce him to allow these half-crazed foreigners to
hurl his precious luggage overside into those frail-looking skiffs.
When this was suggested to him by a tall young man who called him uncle,
the irascible scientist explained with fluency and point that the idea
was an utterly ridiculous one. So Dick Montgomery shrugged his broad
shoulders, and with a “See you presently,” that hardly interrupted his
uncle’s flow of words, beckoned to a boatman.
A moment later he had left the ship’s side and was nearing the
shore--the Eldorado of his young ambition, the land of gold and legends,
the Peru of Pizarro and the Incas. Then the thought of a young girl’s
face blotted out those dreams to make way for new ones.
The monotonous outline of the waterfront brought no disappointment.
Little did he care that the city stretched out there before his eyes was
little more than a narrow, unbeautiful blur along the sea coast, that
there were none of those towers, steeples or minarets with which our
ancient ports beckon out to sea that the traveler is welcome. Even when
his boat had passed the Mole, and they drew level with the modern works
of the Muelle Darsena, well calculated to excite the interest of a
younger engineer, he remained indifferent.
He had asked the boatman where the Calle de Lima lay, and his eyes
hardly left the part of the city which had been pointed out to him in
reply. At the landing stage he threw a hand-full of centavos to his man,
and shouldered his way through the press of guides, interpreters, hotel
touts and other waterside parasites.
Soon he was before the Calle de Lima, a thoroughfare which seemed to be
the boundary line between the old city and the new. Above, to the east,
was the business section--streets broad or narrow fronted with big,
modern buildings that were the homes of English, French, German, Italian
and Spanish firms without number. Below, to the west, a network of
tortuous rows and alleys, full of color, with colonnades and verandahs
encroaching on every available space.
Dick plunged into this labyrinth, shouldered by muscular Chinamen
carrying huge loads, and by lazy Indians. Here and there was to be seen
a sailor leaving or entering one of the many cafés which opened their
doors into the cool bustle of the narrow streets. Though it was his
first visit to Callao, the young man hardly hesitated in his way. Then
he stopped short against a decrepit old wall close to a verandah from
which came the sound of a fresh young voice, young but very assured.
“Just as you like, señor,” it said in Spanish. “But at that price your
fertilizer can only be of an inferior quality.”
For a few minutes the argument went on within. Then there was an
exchange of courteous farewells and a door was closed. Dick approached
the balcony and looked into the room. Seated before an enormous ledger
was a young girl, busily engaged in transcribing figures into a little
note-book attached by a gold chain to the daintiest of waists. Her
face, a strikingly beautiful one, was a little set under its crown of
coal-black hair as she bent over her task. It was not the head of
a languorous Southern belle--rather the curls of Carmen helmeting a
blue-eyed Minerva, a little goddess of reason of today and a thorough
business-woman. At last she lifted her head.
“Maria-Teresa?...”
“Dick!”
The heavy green ledger slipped and crashed to the floor, as she ran
toward him both hands outstretched.
“Well, and how is business?”
“So, so.... And how are you?... But we did not expect you till
to-morrow.”
“We made rather a good passage.”
“And how is May?”
“She’s a very grown-up person now. I suppose you’ve heard? Her second
baby was born just
| 549.79787 | 2,611 |
2023-11-16 18:24:56.4798980
| 2,058 | 91 |
Produced by Robert Connal, Linda Cantoni, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by the Bibliotheque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica) at
http://gallica.bnf.fr)
THE LETTERS OF CASSIODORUS
_HODGKIN_
Oxford
PRINTED BY HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
THE
LETTERS OF CASSIODORUS
BEING
A CONDENSED TRANSLATION OF THE VARIAE EPISTOLAE
OF MAGNUS AURELIUS CASSIODORUS SENATOR
With an Introduction
BY
THOMAS HODGKIN
FELLOW OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON; HON. D.C.L. OF DURHAM UNIVERSITY
AUTHOR OF 'ITALY AND HER INVADERS'
LONDON: HENRY FROWDE
AMEN CORNER, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
1886.
[_All rights reserved_]
PREFACE.
The abstract of the 'Variae' of Cassiodorus which I now offer to the
notice of historical students, belongs to that class of work which
Professor Max Mueller happily characterised when he entitled two of his
volumes 'Chips from a German Workshop.' In the course of my
preparatory reading, before beginning the composition of the third and
fourth volumes of my book on 'Italy and Her Invaders,' I found it
necessary to study very attentively the 'Various Letters' of
Cassiodorus, our best and often our only source of information, for
the character and the policy of the great Theodoric. The notes which
in this process were accumulated upon my hands might, I hoped, be
woven into one long chapter on the Ostrogothic government of Italy.
When the materials were collected, however, they were so manifold, so
perplexing, so full of curious and unexpected detail, that I quite
despaired of ever succeeding in the attempt to group them into one
harmonious and artistic picture. Frankly, therefore, renouncing a task
which is beyond my powers, I offer my notes for the perusal of the few
readers who may care to study the mutual reactions of the Roman and
the Teutonic mind upon one another in the Sixth Century, and I ask
these to accept the artist's assurance, 'The curtain is the picture.'
It will be seen that I only profess to give an abstract, not a full
translation of the letters. There is so much repetition and such a
lavish expenditure of words in the writings of Cassiodorus, that they
lend themselves very readily to the work of the abbreviator. Of course
the longer letters generally admit of greater relative reduction in
quantity than the shorter ones, but I think it may be said that on an
average the letters have lost at least half their bulk in my hands. On
any important point the real student will of course refuse to accept
my condensed rendering, and will go straight to the fountain-head. I
hope, however, that even students may occasionally derive the same
kind of assistance from my labours which an astronomer derives from
the humble instrument called the 'finder' in a great observatory.
A few important letters have been translated, to the best of my
ability, verbatim. In the not infrequent instances where I have been
unable to extract any intelligible meaning, on grammatical principles,
from the words of my author, I have put in the text the nearest
approximation that I could discover to his meaning, and placed the
unintelligible words in a note, hoping that my readers may be more
fortunate in their interpretation than I have been.
With the usual ill-fortune of authors, just as my last sheet was
passing through the press I received from Italy a number of the 'Atti
e Memorie della R. Deputazione di Storia Patria per le Provincie di
Romagna' (to which I am a subscriber), containing an elaborate and
scholarlike article by S. Augusto Gaudenzi, entitled 'L'Opera di
Cassiodorio a Ravenna.' It is a satisfaction to me to see that in
several instances S. Gaudenzi and I have reached practically the same
conclusions; but I cannot but regret that his paper reached me too
late to prevent my benefiting from it more fully. A few of the more
important points in which I think S. Gaudenzi throws useful light on
our common subject are noticed in the 'Additions and Corrections,' to
which I beg to draw my readers' attention.
I may perhaps be allowed to add that the Index, the preparation of
which has cost me no small amount of labour, ought (if I have not
altogether failed in my endeavour) to be of considerable assistance to
the historical enquirer. For instance, if he will refer to the heading
_Sajo_, and consult the passages there referred to, he will find, I
believe, all that Cassiodorus has to tell us concerning these
interesting personages, the Sajones, who were almost the only
representatives of the intrusive Gothic element in the fabric of Roman
administration.
From textual criticism and the discussion of the authority of
different MSS. I have felt myself entirely relieved by the
announcement of the forthcoming critical edition of the 'Variae,'
under the superintendence of Professor Meyer. The task to which an
eminent German scholar has devoted the labour of several years, it
would be quite useless for me, without appliances and without special
training, to approach as an amateur; and I therefore simply help
myself to the best reading that I can get from the printed texts,
leaving to Professor Meyer to say which reading possesses the highest
diplomatic authority. Simply as a a matter of curiosity I have spent
some days in examining the MSS. of Cassiodorus in the British Museum.
If they are at all fair representatives (which probably they are not)
of the MSS. which Professor Meyer has consulted, I should say that
though the titles of the letters have often got into great confusion
through careless and unintelligent copying, the main text is not
likely to show any very important variations from the editions of
Nivellius and Garet.
I now commend this volume with all its imperfections to the indulgent
criticism of the small class of historical students who alone will
care to peruse it. The man of affairs and the practical politician
will of course not condescend to turn over its pages; yet the anxious
and for a time successful efforts of Theodoric and his Minister to
preserve to Italy the blessings of _Civilitas_ might perhaps teach
useful lessons even to a modern statesman.
THOS. HODGKIN.
NOTE.
The following Note as to the MSS. at the British Museum may save a
future enquirer a little trouble.
(1) 10 B. XV. is a MS. about 11 inches by 8, written in a fine bold
hand, and fills 157 folios, of which 134 belong to the 'Variae' and 23
to the 'Institutiones Divinarum Litterarum.' There are also two folios
at the end which I have not deciphered. The MS. is assigned to the
Thirteenth Century. The title of the First Book is interesting,
because it contains the description of Cassiodorus' official rank, 'Ex
Magistri Officii,' which Mommsen seems to have looked for in the MSS.
in vain. The MS. contains the first Three Books complete, but only 39
letters of the Fourth. Letters 40-51 of the Fourth Book, and the whole
of the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Books, are missing. It then goes on
to the Eighth Book (which it calls the Fifth), but omits the first
five letters. The remaining 28 appear to be copied satisfactorily. The
Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Books, which the transcriber calls
the Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth, seem to be on the whole
correctly copied.
There seems to be a certain degree of correspondence between the
readings of this MS. and those of the Leyden MS. of the Twelfth
Century (formerly at Fulda) which are described by Ludwig Tross in his
'Symbolae Criticae' (Hammone, 1853).
(2) 8 B. XIX. is a MS. also of the Thirteenth Century, in a smaller
hand than the foregoing. The margins are very large, but the Codex
measures only 6-3/4 inches by 4-1/4. The rubricated titles are of
somewhat later date than the body of the text. The initial letters are
elaborately illuminated. This MS. contains, in a mutilated state and
in a peculiar order, the books from the Eighth to the Twelfth. The
following is the order in which the books are placed:
IX. 8-25, folios 1-14.
X. " 14-33.
XI. " 33-63.
XII. " 63-83.
VIII. " 83-126.
IX. 1-7, " 126-134.
The amanuensis, who has evidently been a thoroughly dishonest worker,
constantly
| 549.799308 | 2,612 |
2023-11-16 18:24:56.8723320
| 404 | 93 |
E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
SEVENOAKS
A Story of Today
by
J.G. HOLLAND
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Published by Arrangement with Charles Scribner's Sons
1875
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Which tells about Sevenoaks, and how Miss Butterworth passed one of
her evenings
CHAPTER II.
Mr. Belcher carries his point at the town-meeting, and the poor are
knocked down to Thomas Buffum
CHAPTER III.
In which Jim Fenton is introduced to the reader and introduces himself to
Miss Butterworth
CHAPTER IV.
In which Jim Fenton applies for lodgings at Tom Buffum's boarding-house,
and finds his old friend
CHAPTER V.
In which Jim enlarges his accommodations and adopts a violent method
of securing boarders
CHAPTER VI.
In which Sevenoaks experiences a great commotion, and comes to the
conclusion that Benedict has met with foul play
CHAPTER VII.
In which Jim and Mike Conlin pass through a great trial and come out
victorious
CHAPTER VIII.
In which Mr. Belcher visits New York, and becomes the Proprietor of
"Palgrave's Folly."
CHAPTER IX.
Mrs. Talbot gives her little dinner party, and Mr. Belcher makes an
exceedingly pleasant acquaintance
CHAPTER X.
Which tells how a lawyer spent his vacation in camp, and took home a
specimen of game that he had never before found in the woods
CHAPTER XI.
Which records Mr. Belcher's connection with a great speculation and
brings to a close his residence in Sevenoaks
CHAPTER XII.
In which Jim enlarges his
| 550.191742 | 2,613 |
2023-11-16 18:24:56.9055510
| 1,386 | 125 |
Produced by Al Haines
ALL ABOARD
A STORY FOR GIRLS
BY FANNIE E. NEWBERRY
_Author of "The Odd One," "Not for Profit," "Bubbles," "Joyce's
Investments," "Sara a Princess," etc., etc._
"Our Faith, a star, shone o'er a rocky height;
The billows rose, and she was quenched in night."
NEW YORK:
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.
COPYRIGHT, 1898.
By A. I. BRADLEY & CO
IN MEMORY
OF A HAPPY VISIT,
LET ME DEDICATE TO YOU, MY COUSINS
H. S. AND W. FASSETT,
THIS LITTLE BOOK
WITH MY AFFECTIONATE REGARDS
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. Debby has a Caller
II. The Leave-taking
III. New Surroundings
IV. Introductions
V. "On the Bay of Biscay, O!"
VI. Portuguese Towns and Heroes
VII. Kite-flying and Gibraltar
VIII. Nightmare and Gossip
IX. A Game of Gromets
X. Mrs. Windemere's Dinner
XI. A Sunday at Sea
XII. The Story of a Wreck
XIII. Algiers and Andy
XIV. Guesswork
XV. Tropical Evenings
XVI. Danger
XVII. Lady Moreham Speaks
XVIII. Last Days Together
XIX. Old Ties and New
XX. In Old Bombay
XXI. Friends Ashore
XXII. In Elephanta's Caves
"ALL ABOARD!"
CHAPTER I.
DEBBY HAS A CALLER.
"And they're twins, you say?"
"Yes'm, two of 'em, and as putty as twin blooms on a stalk,'m."
The second speaker was a large, corpulent woman, with a voluminous
white apron tied about her voluminous waist. She stood deferentially
before the prospective roomer who had asked the question, to whom she
was showing the accommodations of her house, with interpolations of a
private nature, on a subject too near her heart, to-day, to be ignored
even with strangers. As she stood nodding her head with an emphasis
that threatened to dislodge the smart cap with purple ribbons, which
she had rather hastily assumed when summoned to the door, the caller
mentally decided that here was a good soul, indeed, but rather
loquacious to be the sole guardian of two girls "putty as twin blooms."
She, herself, was tall and slender, and wore her rich street costume
with an easy elegance, as if fine clothing were too much a matter of
course to excite her interest. But upon her face were lines which
showed that, at some time, she had looked long and deeply into the
hollow eyes of trouble, possibly despair. Even the smile now curving
her well-turned lips lacked the joyousness of youth, though in years
she seemed well on the sunny side of early middle age. She was
evidently in no hurry this morning, and finding her possible landlady
so ready to talk, bent an attentive ear that was most flattering to the
good creature.
"I knew," she said, sinking into a rattan chair tied up with blue
ribbons, like an over-dressed baby, "that these rooms had an air which
suggested youth and beauty. I don't wonder your heart is sore to lose
them."
"Ah, it's broke it is,'m!" the voice breaking in sympathy, "for I've
looked upon 'em as my own, entirely, and it's nigh to eighteen year,
now. Their mother, just a slip of a girl herself,'m, had only time
for a long look at her babbies before she begun to sink, and when she
see, herself, 'twas the end, she whispered, 'Debby'--I was right over
her,'m, leaving the babbies to anybody, for little they were to me
then, beside the dear young mistress--so she says, says she, 'Debby!'
and I says, very soft-like, 'Yes, Miss Helen,'--'cause, mind you, I'd
been her maid afore she was merrit at all, and I allays forgot when I
wasn't thinkin', and give her the old name--and I says, 'Yes, Miss
Helen?' And then she smiles up at me just as bright as on her wellest
days,'m, and says, 'Call 'em Faith and Hope,' Debby; that's what they
would be to me if--and not rightly onderstandin' of her, I breaks in,
'Faith and Hope? Call _what_ faith and hope?' For, thinkses I,'she
may be luny with the fever.' But no, she says faint-like, but clear
and sound as a bell, 'Call my babies so. Let their names be Faith and
Hope, and when their poor father comes home, say it was my wish, and he
must not grieve too much, for he will have Faith and Hope always with
him.' And then the poor dear sinks off again and never rightly comes
to, till she's clean gone."
"And their father was on a voyage, then?"
"Yes'm, second mate of the 'International.' He's cap'n now,'m, with
an interest in the steamship, and they do say they ain't many that's so
dreadfully much finer in the big P. & O. lines--leastwise so I've heerd
tell,'m, and I guess they ain't no mistake about it, nuther."
"And you have mothered his babies all these years?"
"I have,'m, yes. In course when it come time for their schoolin' I
had to let 'em go. 'Twas then Cap'n Hosmer was going to give up this
house, 'cause 'twa'n't no use a-keepin' it while they was off, but the
| 550.224961 | 2,614 |
2023-11-16 18:24:56.9370110
| 382 | 57 |
Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Richard J. Shiffer
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
THE ARENA.
EDITED BY JOHN CLARK RIDPATH, LL. D.
VOL. XVIII
JULY TO DECEMBER, 1897
PUBLISHED BY
THE ARENA COMPANY
BOSTON, MASS.
1897
COPYRIGHTED, 1897
BY
THE ARENA COMPANY.
SKINNER, BARTLETT & CO., 7 Federal Court, Boston.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
The Citadel of the Money Power:
I. Wall Street, Past, Present, and Future HENRY CLEWS 1
II. The True Inwardness of Wall Street JOHN CLARK RIDPATH 9
The Reform Club's Feast of Unreason Hon. CHARLES A. TOWNE 24
Does Credit Act on Prices? A. J. UTLEY 37
Points in the American and French Constitutions Compared,
NIELS GROeN 49
Honest Money; or, A True Standard of Value: A Symposium.
I. WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN 57
II. M. W. HOWARD 58
III. WHARTON BARKER 59
IV. ARTHUR I. FONDA 60
V. Gen. A. J. WARNER 62
The New Civil Code of Japan TOKICHI MASAO, M. L., D. C. L. 64
John Ruskin: A Type of Twentieth-Century Manhood
| 550.256421 | 2,615 |
2023-11-16 18:24:57.0687590
| 396 | 104 |
Produced by Fritz Ohrenschall, Judith Picken and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber's note:
It is noted that on page 92 "From December 1, 1894, to September 12,
1892, 329 francs 75 centimes was collected;" that the dates are not
sequential. The word _sabotage_ has been consistently placed in italics.
Individual correction of printers' errors are listed at the end.]
STUDIES IN HISTORY, ECONOMICS AND PUBLIC LAW
EDITED BY THE FACULTY OF POLITICAL SCIENCE
OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY
Volume XLVI] [Number 3
Whole Number 116
SYNDICALISM IN FRANCE
BY
LOUIS LEVINE
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY
PROFESSOR FRANKLIN H. GIDDINGS
SECOND REVISED EDITION
OF
"The Labor Movement in France"
AMS PRESS
NEW YORK
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY
STUDIES IN THE
SOCIAL SCIENCES
116
COPYRIGHT 1912
BY
LOUIS LEVINE
The series was formerly known as _Studies in History,
Economics and Public Law_.
Reprinted with the permission of Columbia University Press
From the edition of 1914, New York
First AMS EDITION published 1970
Manufactured in the United States of America
Library of Congress Catalog Number: 76-127443
International Standard Book Number:
Complete Set... 0-404-51000-0
Number 116... 0-404-51116-3
AMS PRESS, INC.
New York, N.Y. 10003
The term syndical
| 550.388169 | 2,616 |
2023-11-16 18:24:57.0900010
| 410 | 152 |
Produced by deaurider, Karin Spence and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
OLD CROSSES
AND LYCHGATES
[Illustration:
_Frontispiece_
1. NORTHAMPTON
ELEANOR CROSS]
OLD CROSSES
AND LYCHGATES
BY
AYMER VALLANCE
[Illustration]
LONDON
B·T·BATSFORD, L^{TD} 94, HIGH HOLBORN
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT
THE DARIEN PRESS, EDINBURGH
PREFACE
The genesis of this book was an article on "Churchyard Crosses,"
written by request for the _Burlington Magazine_, and published
therein in September 1918. It was at a time when the hearts of the
British people were being stirred to their innermost depths, for the
European War was yet raging, and the question of the most suitable
form of memorials of our heroic dead, sacrificed day by day, was
continually present to us. Nor, though hostilities happily ceased
when the Armistice was agreed upon within a few weeks thereafter,
has the subject of commemorating the fallen on that account declined
in interest and importance. Nay, its claims are, if anything, more
insistent than ever, for, the vital necessity of concentrating our
energies on the attainment of victory having passed away, the nation
is now at leisure "to pour out its mourning heart in memorials that
will tell the generations to come how it realised the bitterness and
glory of the years of the Great War." Such being the case, it was
hoped that it might prove useful to gather together a collection
of examples of old crosses and
| 550.409411 | 2,617 |
2023-11-16 18:24:57.0993970
| 4,085 | 58 |
Produced by David Garcia, Carla Foust, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
Transcriber's note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Printer
errors have been changed and are listed at the end. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original.
THE LOVE STORY OF ABNER STONE
THE LOVE STORY
OF
ABNER STONE
_By_
EDWIN CARLILE LITSEY
NEW YORK
A. S. BARNES AND COMPANY
MCMII
_Copyright, 1902_
BY A. S. BARNES AND COMPANY
_Published June, 1902_
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
REPRINTED JULY, 1902
UNIVERSITY PRESS. JOHN WILSON
AND SON. CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
TO HER
Preface
It seems a little strange that I, Abner Stone, now verging upon my
seventieth year, should bring pen, ink, and paper before me, with the
avowed purpose of setting down the love story of my life, which I had
thought locked fast in my heart forever. A thing very sacred to me; of
the world, it is true, yet still apart from it, the blessed memory of it
all has abode in my breast with the unfading distinctness of an old
picture done in oils, and has brightened the years I have thus far lived
on the shadowed <DW72> of life. And now has come the firm belief that the
world may be made better by the telling of this story--as my life has
been made better by having lived it--and so I shall essay the brief and
simple task before my fingers have grown too stiff to hold the pen,
trusting that some printer of books will be good enough to put my story
into a little volume for all who would care to read. And I, as I pursue
the work which I have appointed unto myself, shall again stroll through
the meadows and forests of dear Kentucky, shall tread her dusty highways
under the spell of a bygone June, and shall sit within the portals of an
old home whose floors are now pressed by an alien foot. Now, ere I have
scarce begun, the recollections come upon me like a flood, and this page
becomes blurred to my failing sight. O Memory! Memory! and the visions
of thine!
THE LOVE STORY _of_ ABNER STONE
I
It is a long path which stretches from forty-five to seventy. A path
easy enough to make, for each day's journey through life is a part of
it, but very difficult to retrace. When we turn at that advanced
mile-stone and look back, things seem misty. For there is many a twist
and angle in the highway of a life, and often the things which we would
forget stand out the clearest. But I would not drive from my brain this
quiet afternoon the visions which enfold it,--the blessed recollections
of over a score of years ago. For the sweet voice which speaks in my
ear as I write I have never ceased to hear; the face which the mirror of
my mind ever reflects before my eyes I have looked upon with
never-tiring eagerness, and the tender hand which I can imagine betimes
creeping into my own, is the chiefest blessing of a life nearly spent.
There is no haunting memory of past misdeeds to shadow the quiet rest of
my last days. As I bid my mind go back over the path which my feet have
trod, no ghost uprises to confront it; no voice cries out for
retribution or justice; not even does a dumb animal whine at a blow
inflicted, nor a worm which my foot has wantonly pressed, appear. I
would show forth no self-praise in this, but rather a devout
thankfulness unto the Creator who made me as I am, with a heart of mercy
for all living things, and a reverent love for all His wonderful works.
The beauty of tree, and flowering plant, and lowly creeper abides with
me as an everlasting joy, and the song of the humblest singer the forest
shelters finds a response in my heart. Without my window now, as I sit
down to make a history of part of my life, a brown-coated English
sparrow is chattering in a strange jargon to his mate on the limb of an
Early Harvest apple tree, and I pause a moment to listen to his shrill
little voice, and to watch the black patch under his throat puff up and
down.
It is the fall of the year, and the afternoon is gray. At times an arrow
of sunlight breaks through the shields of clouds, and kisses the brown
earth with a quivering spot of light. Across the sloping, unkept lawn,
about midway between the house and the whitewashed gate leading from the
yard, a rabbit hops, aimlessly, his back humped up, and his white tail
showing plainly amid his sombre surroundings. I can see the muscles
about his nostrils twitching, as he stops now and again to nibble at a
withered tuft of grass. A lonely jay flits from one tree to another; a
cardinal speeds by my window, a line of color across a dark background;
and one by one the dry leaves drop noiselessly down, making thicker the
soft covering which Nature is spreading over the breast of Mother Earth.
It may be that I shall not see the resurrection of another spring. Each
winter that has passed for the last few years has grown a little harder
for me, and my breathing becomes difficult in the damp, cold weather.
Perhaps my eyes shall not again behold the glorious flood of light and
color which follows the footsteps of spring; perhaps when the earth is
wrapped once more in its mantle of leaves they shall lie over my breast
as well. For man's years upon this earth are measured in Holy Writ as
threescore and ten, and come December fourth next, I shall have lived my
allotted time. My ways have not all been ways of pleasantness, nor all
my paths peace. But I am glad to have lived; to have known the hopes of
youth and the trials of manhood. To have felt within my soul that
emotion which rules the earth and the universes, and which is Heaven's
undefiled gift to Man. From books I have gained knowledge; from the
lessons of life I have learned wisdom; from love I have found the way
which leads to life eternal.
Old age is treacherous, and it comes to me now that maybe I have delayed
my work too long. For the mind of age does not move with the nimbleness
of a young colt, but rather with the labored efforts of a beast of
burden whose limbs are stiff from a life of toil. But this I know, that
there is a period in my existence which the years cannot dim. I have
lived it over again and again, winter and summer, summer and winter,
here in my quiet country home among the hills. There has been nothing to
my life but that; first, the living of it, and then the memory of it.
It is my love story.
II
In the spring of 1860, I was a lodger in a respectable boarding-house on
Chestnut Street, in Louisville. My father--God rest his soul--had passed
away ten years before, and I was able to live comfortably upon the
income of my modest inheritance, as I was his sole child, and my dear
mother was to me but an elusive memory of childhood. Sometimes, in still
evenings just before I lit my student's lamp, and I sat alone musing, I
would catch vague glimpses of a sweet, pure face with calm, gray
eyes--but that was all. No figure, no voice, not even her hair, but
sometimes my mind would picture an aureole around her head. I have
often wondered why she was taken from me before I could have known her,
but I have also striven not to be rebellious. But she must have been an
unusual woman, for my father never recovered from her loss, and to the
day of his death he wore a tress of her hair in a locket over his heart.
I have it now, and I wear it always.
I was of a timid disposition, and retiring nature, and so my
acquaintances were few, and of close friends I had not one. My mornings
and evenings were spent with my books, and in the afternoons I took
solitary walks, often wandering out into the country, if the weather was
fine, for the blue sky had a charm for me, and I loved to look at the
distant hills,--the hazy and purple undulations which marked the
horizon. And Nature was never the same to me. Always changing, always
some beauty before undiscovered bursting on my sight, and her limitless
halls were full of paintings and of songs of which I would never tire.
Then, as evening closed in, and I would reluctantly turn back to my
crowded quarters, the sordid streets and the cramped appearance of
everything would fret me, and almost make me envious of the sparrow
perched on the telegraph wire over my head. For he, at least, was lifted
above this thoughtless, hurrying throng among which I was compelled to
pass, and the piteous, supplicating voice of the blind beggar at the
corner did not remind him that even thus he might some day become. And
thus, when my feet brought me to the line of traffic, as I returned
home, I would unconsciously hasten my steps, for the moil and toil of a
city's strife I could not bear.
In the spring of 1860, these long walks to the country became more
frequent. I had been cooped up for four rigorous months, a
predisposition to taking cold always before me as a warning that I must
be careful in bad weather. And the confines of a fourteen by eighteen
room naturally become irksome after weeks and weeks of intimate
acquaintance. It is true there were two windows to my apartment. A
glance from one only showed me the side of a house adjoining the one in
which I stayed, but the other gave me a view of a thoroughfare, and by
this window I sat through many a bleak winter day, watching the
passers-by. One night there was a sleet, and when I looked out the next
morning, everything was covered in a gray coat of ice. A young maple
grew directly under my window, and its poor head was bent over as though
in sorrow at the treatment it had to endure, and its branches hung
listlessly in their icy case, with a frozen raindrop at the end of each
twig. The sidewalks were treacherous, and I found some amusement in
watching the pedestrians as they warily proceeded along the slippery
pavement, most of them treading as though walking on egg-shells. There
went an old gentleman who must have had business down town, for I had
seen him pass every day. This morning he carried a stick in his hand,
and I discovered that it was pointed with some sharp substance that
would assist him, for every time he lifted it up, it left a little white
spot in the coating of ice. There went a schoolboy, helter-skelter,
swinging his books by a strap, running and sliding along the pavement in
profound contempt for its dangers. A jaunty little Miss with fur wraps
and veiled face, but through the thin obstruction I could plainly see
two rosy cheeks, and a pair of dancing eyes. Her tiny feet, likewise,
passed on without fear, and she disappeared. Heaven grant they may rest
as firm on every path through life!
Next came an aged woman, who moved with faltering feet, and always kept
one hand upon the iron fence enclosing the small yard, as a support.
Each step was taken slowly, and with trepidation, and I wished for the
moment that I was beside her, to lend her my arm. Some errand of mercy
or dire necessity called her forth on such a perilous venture, and I
felt that, whatever the motive be, it would shield her from mishap. And
so they passed, youth and age, as the day wore on. In the afternoon the
old gentleman re-passed, and I saw that his back was a little more
stooped, and he leaned heavier on his stick. For each day adds weight to
the shoulders of age.
And now a miserable cur came sniffing along the gutter on the opposite
side of the street. His ribs showed plainly through his dirty yellow
coat, the scrubby hair along his back stood on end, and his tail was
held closely between his legs. And so he tipped along, half-starved,
vainly seeking some morsel of food. He stopped and looked up, shivering
visibly as the cold wind pierced him through and through, then trotted
to the middle of the street, and began nosing something lying there. A
handsome coupe darted around the corner, taking the centre of the road.
The starving cur never moved, so intent was he on obtaining food, and
thus it happened that a pitiful yelp of pain reached my ears, muffled by
the closed window. The coupe whirled on its journey, and below, in the
chill, desolate grayness of a winter afternoon, an ugly pup sat howling
at the leaden skies, his right foreleg upheld, part of it dangling in a
very unnatural manner. A pang of compassion for the dumb unfortunate
stirred in my breast, but I sat still and watched. He tried to walk, but
the effort was a failure, and again he sat down and howled, this time
with his meagre face upturned to my window. The street was empty, as far
as I could see, for twilight was almost come, and cheery firesides were
more tempting than slippery pavements and stinging winds. The muffled
tones of distress became weaker and more despairing, and I could endure
them no longer. I quickly arose and cast off my dressing-gown and
slippers. In less than a minute I had on shoes, coat, and great-coat,
and was quietly stealing down the stairs. Tenderly I took the shivering,
whining form up in my arms, casting my eyes around and breathing a sigh
of relief that no one had seen, and thanking my stars, as I entered my
room, that I had not encountered my landlady, who had a great aversion
to cats and dogs.
It was little enough of surgery I knew, veterinary or otherwise, but a
simpleton could have seen that a broken leg was at least one of the
injuries my charge had suffered. I laid the dirty yellow object down on
the heavy rug before the fire, and he stopped the whining, and his
trembling, too, as soon as the soothing heat began to permeate his
half-frozen body. I knew there was a pine board in my closet, and from
this I made some splints and bound up the broken limb as gently as I
could, but my fingers were not very deft nor my skill more than
ordinary, and as a consequence a few fresh howls were the result. But at
last it was done, and then I made an examination of the other limbs,
finding them as nature intended they should be, with the exception of a
few scars and their unnatural boniness. So I got one of my old coats and
made a bed on the corner of the hearth, to which I proceeded to
transfer my rescued cur. He was grateful, as dogs ever are for a
kindness, and licked my hands as I put him down. And he found strength
somehow to wag his tail in token of thankfulness, so I felt repaid for
my act of mercy, and very well satisfied. A surreptitious visit to the
dining-room resulted in a purloined chunk of cold roast beef, and two or
three dry, hard biscuits, which I found in the corner of a cupboard. Thus
laden with my plunder, I started back, and in the hall came face to face
with my boarding-house mistress.
"Why, Mr. Stone, what in the world!" she began, before I could open my
mouth or put my hands behind my back.
"I--that is--Mrs. Moss, I have a friend with me to-night who is very
eccentric. He has been out in the cold quite a while, and he dislikes
meeting strangers, so that I thought I would let him thaw out in my
room while I came down and got us a little bite. You needn't expect us
at supper, for I have enough here for both."
"If it pleases you, Mr. Stone, I have no objections. But I should be
glad to send your meals to your room as long as your friend remains."
I had reached the foot of the stair, and was now going up it.
"He leaves to-morrow, Mrs. Moss,--I think. Thank you for your kindness,"
and I dodged into my room and shut the door.
My charge was waiting where I had left him, with bright eyes of
anticipation. I took a newspaper and spread it on the floor close up to
him, and depositing the result of my foraging expedition on this, I
stood up and watched him attack the beef with a vigor I did not suppose
he possessed.
"Enjoy it, you little wretch!" I muttered, as he bolted one mouthful
after another. "I came nearer telling a lie for you, than I ever did in
my life before."
Then I made myself comfortable again, drew up my easy-chair, and lit my
lamp, and with pipe and book beguiled the hours till bed-time.
III
I named him Fido, after much deliberation and great hesitancy. My
principal objection to this name was that nearly every diminutive dog
bore it, but then it was old fashioned, and I had a weakness for
old-fashioned things, if this taste could be spoken of in such a manner.
I had really intended setting him adrift after his leg was strong, but
during the days of his convalescence I became so strongly attached to
him that I completely forgot my former idea. He was great company for
me, and after I had given him several baths, and all he could eat every
day, he wasn't such a bad-looking dog, after all. The hair on his back
lay down now, and his pinched body rounded out till I began to fear
obesity
| 550.418807 | 2,618 |
2023-11-16 18:24:57.1650540
| 993 | 40 |
Produced by Delphine Lettau, Constantia and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
"CARROTS:"
JUST A LITTLE BOY
"Is it then a great mistake
That Boys were ever made at all?"
[Illustration: There she sat, as still as a mouse, holding her precious
burden. (_See page_ 9.) _Frontispiece_]
"CARROTS:"
JUST A LITTLE BOY
BY
MRS. MOLESWORTH
(ENNIS GRAHAM)
AUTHOR OF "TELL ME A STORY" "CUCKOO CLOCK"
"GRANDMOTHER DEAR" ETC.
[Illustration: p. 210.]
ILLUSTRATED BY WALTER CRANE
LONDON
MACMILLAN & CO.
1876
TO
SIX LITTLE COUSINS
MORIER, BEVIL,
NOEL, LIONEL,
EDWARD,
AND BABY BRIAN.
EDINBURGH, 1870
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. FLOSS'S BABY 1
II. SIX YEARS OLD 12
III. PLANS 26
IV. THE LOST HALF-SOVEREIGN 44
V. CARROTS IN TROUBLE 60
VI. CARROTS "ALL ZIGHT" AGAIN 78
VII. A LONG AGO STORY 91
VIII. "THE BEWITCHED TONGUE" 111
IX. SYBIL 130
X. A JOURNEY AND ITS ENDING 152
XI. HAPPY AND SAD 180
XII. "THE TWO FUNNY LITTLE TROTS" 206
XIII. GOOD ENDINGS 236
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THERE SHE SAT, AS STILL AS A MOUSE, HOLDING HER
PRECIOUS BURDEN _Frontispiece._
"A YELLOW SIXPENNY, OH, HOW NICE!" 36
FLOSS TAPPED AT THE DOOR. "CARROTS," SHE SAID,
"ARE YOU THERE?" 78
"NOW, BE QUIET ALL OF YOU, I'M GOING TO BEGIN" 114
"WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT, MY POOR OLD
MAN?" SAID AUNTIE, FONDLY 148
"IT IS FLOSSIE AND ME, SYBIL--DON'T YOU REMEMBER
US?" 184
"SUDDENLY A BRIGHT THOUGHT STRUCK ME, I SEIZED
GIP, MY LITTLE DOG, WHO WAS ASLEEP ON THE
HEARTHRUG, AND HELD HIM UP AT THE WINDOW" 212
"CARROTS:" JUST A LITTLE BOY
CHAPTER I.
FLOSS'S BABY.
"Where did you come from, Baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here?
* * *
"But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here!"
_G. Macdonald._
His real name was Fabian. But he was never called anything but Carrots.
There were six of them. Jack, Cecil, Louise, Maurice, commonly called
Mott, Floss, dear, dear Floss, whom he loved best of all, a long way the
best of all, and lastly Carrots.
Why Carrots should have come to have his history written I really cannot
say. I must leave you, who understand such things a good deal better
than I, you, children, for whom the history is written, to find out. I
can give you a few reasons why Carrots' history should _not_ have been
written, but that is about all I can do. There was nothing very
remarkable about him; there was nothing very remarkable about the place
where he lived, or the things that he did, and on the whole he was very
much like other little boys. There are my _no_ reasons for you. But
still he was Carrots, and after all, perhaps, that was _the_ reason! I
shouldn't wonder.
He was the baby of the family; he had every right to be considered the
baby, for he was
| 550.484464 | 2,619 |
2023-11-16 18:24:57.2364640
| 2,059 | 94 |
This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
_Prose_
THE GHOST SHIP, AND OTHER STORIES
[ _Third Impression_
_Verse_
POEMS AND SONGS (1ST SERIES)
[ _Second Impression_
POEMS AND SONGS (2ND SERIES)
* * * * *
LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN
[Picture: Book cover]
THE DAY BEFORE
YESTERDAY • BY
RICHARD MIDDLETON
* * * * *
T. FISHER UNWIN
LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE
LEIPSIC: INSELSTRASSE 20
1912
* * * * *
(_All rights reserved_)
* * * * *
Thanks are due to the Editors of _The Academy_,
_Vanity Fair_, and _The Pall Mall Gazette_ for
permission to reprint the greater part of
the work in this volume.
CONTENTS
PAGE
AN ENCHANTED PLACE 1
A RAILWAY JOURNEY 8
THE MAGIC POOL 16
THE STORY-TELLER 25
ADMIRALS ALL 33
A REPERTORY THEATRE 41
CHILDREN AND THE SPRING 49
ON NURSERY CUPBOARDS 56
THE FAT MAN 63
CAROL SINGERS 70
THE MAGIC CARPET 77
STAGE CHILDREN 84
OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE 92
HAROLD 99
ON DIGGING HOLES 105
REAL CRICKET 112
THE BOY IN THE GARDEN 119
CHILDREN AND THE SEA 130
ON GOING TO BED 137
STREET ORGANS 144
A SECRET SOCIETY 152
THE PRICE OF PEACE 161
ON CHILDREN’S GARDENS 167
A DISTINGUISHED GUEST 174
ON PIRATES 182
THE FLUTE PLAYER 189
THE WOOL-GATHERER 197
THE PERIL OF THE FAIRIES 205
DRURY LANE AND THE CHILDREN 212
CHILDREN’S DRAMA 217
CHILDHOOD IN RETROSPECT 225
THE FOLLY OF EDUCATION 231
ON COMMON SENSE 239
AN ENCHANTED PLACE
WHEN elder brothers insisted on their rights with undue harshness, or
when the grown-up people descended from Olympus with a tiresome tale of
broken furniture and torn clothes, the groundlings of the schoolroom went
into retreat. In summer-time this was an easy matter; once fairly
escaped into the garden, any climbable tree or shady shrub provided us
with a hermitage. There was a hollow tree-stump full of exciting insects
and pleasant earthy smells that never failed us, or, for wet days, the
tool-shed, with its armoury of weapons with which, in imagination, we
would repel the attacks of hostile forces. But in the game that was our
childhood, the garden was out of bounds in winter-time, and we had to
seek other lairs. Behind the schoolroom piano there was a three-cornered
refuge that served very well for momentary sulks or sudden alarms. It
was possible to lie in ambush there, at peace with our grievances, until
life took a turn for the better and tempted us forth again into the
active world.
But when the hour was tragic and we felt the need for a hiding-place more
remote, we took our troubles, not without a recurring thrill, to that
enchanted place which our elders contemptuously called the
“mouse-cupboard.” This was a low cupboard that ran the whole length of
the big attic under the <DW72> of the roof, and here the aggrieved spirit
of childhood could find solitude and darkness in which to scheme deeds of
revenge and actions of a wonderful magnanimity turn by turn. Luckily our
shelter did not appeal to the utilitarian minds of the grown-up folk or
to those members of the younger generation who were beginning to trouble
about their clothes. You had to enter it on your hands and knees; it was
dusty, and the mice obstinately disputed our possession. On the inner
walls the plaster seemed to be oozing between the rough laths, and
through little chinks and crannies in the tiles overhead our eyes could
see the sky. But our imaginations soon altered these trivial blemishes.
As a cave the mouse-cupboard had a very interesting history. As soon as
the smugglers had left it, it passed successively through the hands of
Aladdin, Robinson Crusoe, Ben Gunn, and Tom Sawyer, and gave satisfaction
to them all, and it would no doubt have had many other tenants if some
one had not discovered that it was like the cabin of a ship. From that
hour its position in our world was assured.
For sooner or later our dreams always returned to the sea—not, be it
said, to the polite and civilised sea of the summer holidays, but to that
sea on whose foam there open magic casements, and by whose crimson tide
the ships of Captain Avery and Captain Bartholomew Roberts keep faithful
tryst with the _Flying Dutchman_. It needed no very solid vessel to
carry our hearts to those enchanted waters—a paper boat floating in a
saucer served well enough if the wind was propitious—so the fact that our
cabin lacked portholes and was of an unusual shape did not trouble us.
We could hear the water bubbling against the ship’s side in a
neighbouring cistern, and often enough the wind moaned and whistled
overhead. We had our lockers, our sleeping-berths, and our cabin-table,
and at one end of the cabin was hung a rusty old cutlass full of notches;
we would have hated any one who had sought to disturb our illusion that
these notches had been made in battle. When we were stowaways even the
mice were of service to us, for we gave them a full roving commission as
savage rats, and trembled when we heard them scampering among the cargo.
But though we cut the figure of an old admiral out of a Christmas number,
and chased slavers with Kingston very happily for a while, the vessel did
not really come into her own until we turned pirates and hoisted the
“Jolly Roger” off the coast of Malabar. Then, by the light of guttering
candles, the mice witnessed some strange sights. If any of us had any
money we would carouse terribly, drinking ginger-beer like water, and
afterwards water out of the ginger-beer bottles, which still retained a
faint magic. Jam has been eaten without bread on board the _Black
Margaret_, and when we fell across a merchantman laden with a valuable
consignment of dried apple-rings—tough fare but interesting—and the
savoury sugar out of candied peel, there were boisterous times in her dim
cabin. We would sing what we imagined to be sea chanties in a doleful
voice, and prepare our boarding-pikes for the next adventure, though we
had no clear idea what they really were.
And when we grew weary of draining rum-kegs and counting the pieces of
eight, our life at sea knew quieter though no less enjoyable hours. It
was pleasant to lie still after the fever of battle and watch the
flickering candles with drowsy eyes. Surely the last word has not been
said on the charm of candle-light; we liked little candles—dumpy sixteens
they were perhaps—and as we lay they would spread among us their
attendant shadows. Beneath us the water chuckled restlessly, and
sometimes we heard the feet of the watch on deck overhead, and now and
again the clanging of the great bell. In such an hour it was not
difficult to picture the luminous tropic seas through which the _Black
Margaret_ was making her way. The skies of irradiant stars, the desert
islands like baskets of glowing flowers, and the thousand marvels of the
enchanted ocean—we saw them one and all.
It was strange to leave this place of shadows and silences and hour-long
dreams to play a humble part in a noisy, gas-lit world that had not known
these wonders; but there were consolations. Elder brothers might prevail
in argument by methods that seemed unfair, but, beneath a baffled
exterior, we could conceal a sublime pity for their unadventurous lives.
Governesses might criticise our dusty clothes with wearisome eloquence,
but the recollection that women were not allowed on board the _Black
Margaret_ helped us to remain conventionally polite. Like the gentleman
in Mr. Wells’s story, we knew that there were better dreams, and the
knowledge raised us for a while above the trivial passions of our
environment.
We were not the only children who had found the mouse-cupboard a place of
enchantment, for when we explored it first we discovered a handful of
wooden beads carefully hidden in a cranny in the wall. These
| 550.555874 | 2,620 |
2023-11-16 18:24:57.5542040
| 391 | 57 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: Ella Wheeler Wilcox]
THREE WOMEN
BY
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
Author of "Poems of Passion," "Maurine," "Poems of
Pleasure," "How Salvator Won," "Custer and Other
Poems," "Men, Women and Emotions,"
"The Beautiful Land of Nod," Etc.
CHICAGO--NEW YORK
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Entered according to act of Congress, In the year 1897, by
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London.
All Rights Reserved.
Made in the United States.
THREE WOMEN
_My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note._
_Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day._
_Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love._
_Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where lone, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest._
_Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung._
THREE WOMEN.
I.
A dull little station
| 550.873614 | 2,621 |
2023-11-16 18:24:57.7542590
| 1,190 | 375 |
Produced by David Reed
HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE
Edward Gibbon, Esq.
With notes by the Rev. H. H. Milman
Vol. 5
Chapter XLIX: Conquest Of Italy By The Franks.--Part I.
Introduction, Worship, And Persecution Of Images.--Revolt Of
Italy And Rome.--Temporal Dominion Of The Popes.--Conquest
Of Italy By The Franks.--Establishment Of Images.--Character
And Coronation Of Charlemagne.--Restoration And Decay Of The
Roman Empire In The West.--Independence Of Italy.--
Constitution Of The Germanic Body.
In the connection of the church and state, I have considered the former
as subservient only, and relative, to the latter; a salutary maxim,
if in fact, as well as in narrative, it had ever been held sacred. The
Oriental philosophy of the Gnostics, the dark abyss of predestination
and grace, and the strange transformation of the Eucharist from the sign
to the substance of Christ's body, [1] I have purposely abandoned to the
curiosity of speculative divines. But I have reviewed, with diligence
and pleasure, the objects of ecclesiastical history, by which the
decline and fall of the Roman empire were materially affected, the
propagation of Christianity, the constitution of the Catholic church,
the ruin of Paganism, and the sects that arose from the mysterious
controversies concerning the Trinity and incarnation. At the head
of this class, we may justly rank the worship of images, so fiercely
disputed in the eighth and ninth centuries; since a question of popular
superstition produced the revolt of Italy, the temporal power of the
popes, and the restoration of the Roman empire in the West.
[Footnote 1: The learned Selden has given the history of
transubstantiation in a comprehensive and pithy sentence: "This opinion
is only rhetoric turned into logic," (his Works, vol. iii. p. 2037, in
his Table-Talk.)]
The primitive Christians were possessed with an unconquerable repugnance
to the use and abuse of images; and this aversion may be ascribed to
their descent from the Jews, and their enmity to the Greeks. The Mosaic
law had severely proscribed all representations of the Deity; and that
precept was firmly established in the principles and practice of the
chosen people. The wit of the Christian apologists was pointed against
the foolish idolaters, who bowed before the workmanship of their own
hands; the images of brass and marble, which, had they been endowed with
sense and motion, should have started rather from the pedestal to adore
the creative powers of the artist. [2] Perhaps some recent and imperfect
converts of the Gnostic tribe might crown the statues of Christ and St.
Paul with the profane honors which they paid to those of Aristotle and
Pythagoras; [3] but the public religion of the Catholics was uniformly
simple and spiritual; and the first notice of the use of pictures is in
the censure of the council of Illiberis, three hundred years after the
Christian aera. Under the successors of Constantine, in the peace and
luxury of the triumphant church, the more prudent bishops condescended
to indulge a visible superstition, for the benefit of the multitude;
and, after the ruin of Paganism, they were no longer restrained by the
apprehension of an odious parallel. The first introduction of a symbolic
worship was in the veneration of the cross, and of relics. The saints
and martyrs, whose intercession was implored, were seated on the right
hand if God; but the gracious and often supernatural favors, which,
in the popular belief, were showered round their tomb, conveyed an
unquestionable sanction of the devout pilgrims, who visited, and
touched, and kissed these lifeless remains, the memorials of their
merits and sufferings. [4] But a memorial, more interesting than the
skull or the sandals of a departed worthy, is the faithful copy of his
person and features, delineated by the arts of painting or sculpture.
In every age, such copies, so congenial to human feelings, have been
cherished by the zeal of private friendship, or public esteem: the
images of the Roman emperors were adored with civil, and almost
religious, honors; a reverence less ostentatious, but more sincere, was
applied to the statues of sages and patriots; and these profane virtues,
these splendid sins, disappeared in the presence of the holy men, who
had died for their celestial and everlasting country. At first, the
experiment was made with caution and scruple; and the venerable pictures
were discreetly allowed to instruct the ignorant, to awaken the cold,
and to gratify the prejudices of the heathen proselytes. By a slow
though inevitable progression, the honors of the original were
transferred to the copy: the devout Christian prayed before the image of
a saint; and the Pagan rites of genuflection, luminaries, and incense,
again stole into the Catholic church. The scruples of reason, or piety,
were silenced by the strong evidence of visions and miracles; and the
pictures which speak, and move, and bleed, must be endowed with a
divine energy, and may be considered as the proper objects
| 551.073669 | 2,622 |
2023-11-16 18:24:58.1904530
| 1,912 | 72 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
A THOUSAND WAYS TO PLEASE A HUSBAND
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
A THOUSAND WAYS TO PLEASE A HUSBAND
WITH BETTINA'S BEST RECIPES
BY LOUISE BENNETT WEAVER AND HELEN COWLES LECRON
[Illustration]
_The Romance of Cookery_ AND HOUSEKEEPING
Decorations by ELIZABETH COLBOURNE
A. L. Burt Company
Publishers New York
Copyright, 1917
by
Britton Publishing Company, Inc.
All Rights Reserved
Made in U. S. A.
[Illustration]
A DEDICATION
_To every other little bride
Who has a "Bob" to please,
And says she's tried and tried and tried
To cook with skill and ease,
And can't!--we offer here as guide
Bettina's Recipes!_
_To her whose "Bob" is prone to wear
A sad and hungry look,
Because the maid he thought so fair
Is--well--she just can't cook!
To her we say: do not despair;
Just try Bettina's Book!_
[Illustration]
_Bettina's Measurements Are All Level_
C = cup
t = teaspoon
T = tablespoon
lb. = pound
pt. = pint
B.P. = baking-powder
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I HOME AT LAST 11
II BETTINA'S FIRST REAL DINNER 14
III BETTINA'S FIRST GUEST 17
IV BETTINA GIVES A LUNCHEON 21
V BOB HELPS TO GET DINNER 25
VI COUSIN MATILDA CALLS 28
VII A NEW-FASHIONED SUNDAY DINNER 33
VIII CELEBRATING THE FOURTH 36
IX UNCLE JOHN AND AUNT LUCY MAKE A VISIT 39
X RUTH INSPECTS BETTINA'S KITCHEN 42
XI BETTINA'S BIRTHDAY GIFT 46
XII BETTINA'S FATHER TRIES HER COOKING 49
XIII BOB HELPS WITH THE DINNER 53
XIV A SUNDAY EVENING TEA 56
XV A MOTOR PICNIC 59
XVI BETTINA HAS A CALLER 62
XVII BOB GETS BREAKFAST ON SUNDAY 65
XVIII BETTINA GIVES A PORCH PARTY 69
XIX BETTINA AND THE EXPENSE BUDGET 73
XX MRS. DIXON AND BETTINA'S EXPERIMENT 77
XXI A RAINY DAY DINNER 81
XXII BUYING A REFRIGERATOR 84
XXIII BETTINA'S SUNDAY DINNER 87
XXIV BETTINA VISITS A TEA-ROOM. 90
XXV BETTINA ENTERTAINS ALICE AND MR. HARRISON 93
XXVI OVER THE TELEPHONE 97
XXVII BETTINA HAS A BAKING DAY 100
XXVIII POLLY AND THE CHILDREN 103
XXIX BETTINA PUTS UP FRUIT 107
XXX A COOL SUMMER DAY 111
XXXI BOB AND BETTINA ALONE 114
XXXII BETTINA ATTENDS A MORNING WEDDING 117
XXXIII AFTER THE "TEA" 121
XXXIV BETTINA GIVES A PORCH BREAKFAST 124
XXXV A PIECE OF NEWS 127
XXXVI BETTINA ENTERTAINS HER FATHER AND MOTHER 130
XXXVII THE BIG SECRET 133
XXXVIII AFTER THE CIRCUS 136
XXXIX MRS. DIXON ASKS QUESTIONS 139
XL A TELEGRAM FROM UNCLE ERIC 143
XLI BETTINA ENTERTAINS STATE FAIR VISITORS 147
XLII UNCLE JOHN AND AUNT LUCY 149
XLIII SUNDAY DINNER AT THE DIXON'S 151
XLIV A RAINY EVENING AT HOME 154
XLV RUTH MAKES AN APPLE PIE 159
XLVI BETTINA MAKES APPLE JELLY 162
XLVII AFTER A PARK PARTY 166
XLVIII BETTINA SPILLS THE INK 169
XLIX BETTINA ATTENDS A PORCH PARTY 171
L A DINNER COOKED IN THE MORNING 173
LI A SUNDAY DINNER 176
LII BOB MAKES PEANUT FUDGE 179
LIII DINNER AT THE DIXON'S 182
LIV A GOOD-BYE LUNCHEON FOR BERNADETTE 185
LV BETTINA PLANS AN ANNOUNCEMENT LUNCHEON 188
LVI RUTH AND BETTINA MAKE PREPARATIONS 191
LVII A RAINBOW ANNOUNCEMENT LUNCHEON 193
LVIII AN EARLY CALLER 197
LIX RUTH COMES TO LUNCHEON 200
LX A KITCHEN SHOWER FOR ALICE 205
LXI A RAINY NIGHT MEAL 209
LXII ALICE GIVES A LUNCHEON 212
LXIII MOTORING WITH THE DIXONS 215
LXIV RUTH MAKES BAKING POWDER BISCUITS 218
LXV PLANS FOR THE WEDDING 220
LXVI A GUEST TO A DINNER OF LEFT-OVERS 222
LXVII A HANDKERCHIEF SHOWER 224
LXVIII JUST THE TWO OF THEM 227
LXIX A LUNCHEON IN THE COUNTRY 229
LXX A "PAIR SHOWER" FOR ALICE 232
LXXI BOB MAKES POPCORN BALLS 235
LXXII AND WHERE WAS THE DINNER 237
LXXIII ALICE TELLS HER TROUBLES 240
LXXIV THE DIXONS COME TO DINNER 242
LXXV THE WEDDING INVITATIONS 245
LXXVI HALLOWE'EN PREPARATIONS 248
LXXVII HALLOWE'EN REVELS 250
LXXVIII A FORETASTE OF WINTER 255
LXXIX SURPRISING ALICE AND HARRY 258
LXXX A DINNER FOR THE BRIDAL PARTY 261
LXXXI REHEARSING THE CEREMONY 264
LXXXII AFTER THE WEDDING 267
LXXXIII A "HAPPEN-IN" LUNCHEON 270
LXXXIV UNCLE JOHN A GUEST AT DINNER 273
LXXXV DURING THE TEACHERS' CONVENTION 275
LXXXVI A LUNCHEON FOR THE TEACHERS 278
LXXXVII RUTH COMES TO LUNCHEON 281
LXXXVIII THE HICKORY LOG 284
LXXXIX SOME CHRISTMAS PLANS 287
XC AFTER THE FOOTBALL GAME 289
XCI A THANKSGIVING DINNER IN THE COUNTRY 292
XCII PLANNING THE CHRISTMAS CARDS 295
XCIII HARRY AND ALICE RETURN 299
XCIV THE FIRELIGHT SOCIAL 302
XCV ALICE'S TROUBLES 305
XCVI SOME OF BETTINA'S CHRISTMAS PLANS 308
XCVII MORE OF BETTINA'S CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 311
XCVIII CHRISTMAS GIFTS 313
XCIX A CHRISTMAS SHOWER
| 551.509863 | 2,623 |
2023-11-16 18:24:58.1986540
| 1,101 | 430 |
FUSILIERS IN THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR***
E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Christine P. Travers, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 25618-h.htm or 25618-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/5/6/1/25618/25618-h/25618-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/5/6/1/25618/25618-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling
has been maintained.
THE SECOND BATTALION ROYAL DUBLIN FUSILIERS IN THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR
With a Description of the Operations in the Aden Hinterland
by
MAJORS C. F. ROMER & A. E. MAINWARING
[Illustration: _W. & D. Downey._
H.R.H. The Duke of Connaught and Strathearn, K.G.,
Commander-in-Chief of The Mediterranean Forces, and Colonel-in-Chief
of The Royal Dublin Fusiliers.]
[Illustration: E Libris, The Royal Dublin Fusiliers.]
London: A. L. Humphreys, 187 Piccadilly, W.
1908
PREFACE
The 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers is one of the oldest
regiments in the service. It was raised in February and March, 1661,
to form the garrison of Bombay, which had been ceded to the Crown as
part of the dowry of the Infanta of Portugal, on her marriage with
King Charles II. It then consisted of four companies, the
establishment of each being one captain, one lieutenant, one ensign,
two sergeants, three corporals, two drummers, and 100 privates, and
arrived at Bombay on September 18th, 1662, under the command of Sir
Abraham Shipman. Under various titles it took part in nearly all the
continuous fighting of which the history of India of those days is
principally composed, being generally known as the Bombay European
Regiment, until in March, 1843, it was granted the title of 1st Bombay
Fusiliers. In 1862 the regiment was transferred to the Crown, when the
word 'Royal' was added to its title, and it became known as the 103rd
Regiment, The Royal Bombay Fusiliers. In 1873 the regiment was linked
to the Royal Madras Fusiliers, whose history up to that time had been
very similar to its own. By General Order 41, of 1881, the titles of
the two regiments underwent yet another change, when they became known
by their present names, the 1st and 2nd Battalions Royal Dublin
Fusiliers.
The 2nd Battalion first left India for home service on January 2nd,
1871, when it embarked on H.M.S. _Malabar_, arriving at Portsmouth
Harbour about 8 a.m. on February 4th, and was stationed at Parkhurst.
Its home service lasted until 1884, when it embarked for Gibraltar. In
1885 it moved to Egypt, and in 1886 to India, where it was quartered
until 1897, when it was suddenly ordered to South Africa, on account
of our strained relations with the Transvaal Republic. On arrival at
Durban, however, the difficulties had been settled for the time being,
and the regiment was quartered at Pietermaritzburg until it moved up
to Dundee in 1899, just previous to the outbreak of war.
The late Major-General Penn-Symons assumed command of the Natal force
in 1897, and from that date commenced the firm friendship and mutual
regard between him and the regiment, which lasted without a break
until the day when he met his death at Talana. The interest he took in
the battalion and his zeal resulted in a stiff training, but a
training for which we must always feel grateful, and remember with
kind, if sad, recollections. It was his custom to see a great deal of
the regiments under his command, and he very frequently lunched with
us, by which means he not only made himself personally acquainted with
the characters of the officers of the regiment, but also had an
opportunity of seeing for himself the deep _esprit de corps_ which
existed in it, and without which no regiment can ever hope to
successfully overcome the perils and hardships incidental to active
service.
As the shadow of the coming war grew dark and ever darker on the
Northern horizon, the disposition of the Natal troops underwent some
change, and General Penn-Symons' brigade, of which the regiment formed
part, was moved up to Dundee, and was there
| 551.518064 | 2,624 |
2023-11-16 18:24:58.2517100
| 2,935 | 63 |
Produced by David Garcia, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks,
and the Online Distributed Proofreaders Team
HOME LYRICS.
A Book of Poems.
BY
H. S. BATTERSBY.
VOLUME II.
PREFACE.
* * * * *
This second volume of HOME LYRICS has been published since the death of
the authoress, and in fulfilment of her last wishes, by her children,
and is by them dedicated to the memory of the dearest of mothers, whose
whole life was consecrated to their happiness and welfare and who fully
reciprocated her self-denial, devotion and love.
HER CHILDREN.
INDEX.
* * * * *
To the Memory of a Beloved Son who passed from Earth April 3rd, 1887
Birdies. For a Little Five Year Old
The Angel on War
In Memoriam
The Rink
A Binghampton Home
Mrs. Langtry as Miss Hardcastle in "She Stoops to Conquer"
The Shaker Girl
Ice Palace
The Fable of the Sphynx
Up, Sisters, Morn is Breaking
Oh! I Love the Free Air of the Grand Mountain Height
Sunrise
Love
To the Empress Eugenie on the Death of Her Son
Science
Christmas Morn
A Victim to Modern Inventions
It is but an Autumn Leaflet
Written on board the S. S. "Egypt," September 5th, 1884
Roberval. A Legend of Old France
The Brooklyn Catastrophe
The Naini Tal Catastrophe
To Our Polar Explorers
To the Inconstant
Thanksgiving
"Peace with Honour"
The New Year
Home
It is but a Faded Rosebud
Cleopatra's Needle
A Voice from St. George's Hall
To the Museum Committee, on opening Museums on Sundays
Only a Few Links Wanting
A Painful History
Self Denial
To a Faithful Dog
Flowers
A Welcome from Liverpool to the Queen
In Response to a Kind Gift of Flowers
Health
Ingratitude
Trees
To a Faithful Dog
Self Discipline
The Centenary of a Hero
Springbank
Recollections of Fontainebleau
The Tunbridge Wells Flower Show
HOME LYRICS.
TO THE MEMORY OF A BELOVED SON WHO PASSED FROM EARTH, APRIL 3rd, 1887.
I would gaze down the vista of past years,
In fancy see to-night,
A loved one passed from sight,
But whose blest memory my spirit cheers.
Shrined in the sacred temple of my soul,
He seems again to live,
And fond affection give,
His mother's heart comfort and console.
Perception of the beautiful and bright,
In nature and in art,
Evolved from his true heart
Perpetual beams like sunshine's cheering light.
A simple unsophisticated life,
With faith in action strong,
And perseverance long,
Made all he did with vigorous purpose rife.
Responsive to sweet sympathy's kind claim,
His quick impulsive heart
Loved to take active part
In mirthful joy or sorrowing grief and pain.
His manly face would glow with honest glee.
As with parental pride,
Which he ne'er sought to hide,
He fondly gazed on his loved family.
For them he crowned with industry his days;
Ever they were to him
The sweetest, holiest hymn
Of his heart's jubilant, exultant praise.
And Oh, the tender pity of his eye.
The gentle touch and word,
When his fond heart was stirred
To practical display of sympathy.
His true affection, manners gently gay,
The kiss that seems e'en now
Warm on my lips and brow,
Are memories that ne'er can pass away.
Naught can e'er lessen the fond hope that we
May, one day, meet above
With all we dearly love,
To live again in blissful unity.
* * * * *
BIRDIES. FOR A LITTLE FIVE YEAR OLD.
A tender birdie mother sat
In her soft nest one day,
Teaching her little fledglings, three,
To gambol, sing, and play.
Dear little brood, the mother said,
'Tis time for you to fly
From branch to branch, from tree to tree,
And see the bright blue sky.
Chirrup, the eldest, quick replied,
O yes, sweet mother mine,
We'll be so glad to hop about,
And see the bright sunshine.
Twitter and Downy also said,
We, too, shall happy be,
To bask within the sun's warm rays,
And swing on branch and tree.
Well, then, the mother said, you shall,
And straight the birdies all,
Perched on the edge of the high nest,
Beside the chestnuts tall.
Remember, said the mother bird,
You must not go beyond
That row of trees that skirt the edge
Of the transparent pond.
For if you do you might get lost,
Or drowned, and die in pain,
And never to our dear home nest
Return in joy again.
Well mind your orders, mother dear,
And will not disagree,
But do just what you tell us now,
Said all the birdies three.
They hopped off on delighted wing,
To the next chestnut tree,
O'erjoyed and panting with delight,
The great, grand world to see.
Oh! what a bright, glad scene, they cried,
And what a wond'rous sky!
What joy 'twould be to kiss the Sun,
And be with him on high.
And I, said Downy, I should like
To sail on yonder sea,
And with that pretty milk-white bird,
Skim o'er the waters free.
Said Twitter, you talk very large,
And do not seem to know
Our little wings have not yet power
Beyond these trees to go.
Besides, said Chirrup, mother said
We must not go beyond,
But only hop and fly about
The trees that skirt the pond.
But mother's gone to get us food,
And she will never know,
Said Downy, so upon the pond
I am resolved to go.
O fie! exclaimed the birdies both,
To think of such a thing,
You might get harm, and on us all
Sorrow and trouble bring.
Oh, I am not a bit afraid,
I feel so strong and free,
And will not homeward go until
I float on yonder sea.
Ah, well, said both the other two,
We will not go with you,
Good-bye, we will not disobey
Our mother kind and true.
Off went the two obedient birds,
And safely reached their nest,
The little birdies' happy home
Of sweet delight and rest.
Meanwhile, poor naughty Downy flew
From off the chestnut tree,
Away towards the milk-white bird
That skimmed the waters free.
But ah! his wings were much too weak
To bear him all the way,
And Downy fell imploring aid
From loved ones far away.
But no help came. The mother bird
Was far off gathering food,
From perfumed clover meadows round,
For her beloved brood.
And when she reached her nest and found
But two birds there alone,
And heard that Downy to the pond
So wilfully had flown,
Her heart, so lately full of joy,
Was rent with grief and pain,
For fear lest she should never see
Her darling bird again.
Calling upon his name she flew,
In terror, far and near,
From tree to pond, from pond to tree,
Seeking her birdie dear.
She called; alas, no answer came
To that poor mother's cry,
She searched among the sweet, wild flowers,
And chestnut branches high.
At length she spied a tiny speck
Beside the waters clear,
It was, alas, the lifeless form
Of her lost Downy dear.
She drew him on the soft green grass,
And chafed his lifeless form,
Opened his glassy eyes and mouth,
And tried his limbs to warm.
But all in vain, her darling bird
Was dead, and nevermore
Would he into that mother's ear,
His pretty warblings pour.
Then in despair she buried him
Beside the chestnut tree,
And covered him with twigs and leaves,
While weeping bitterly.
And then, with torn and sorrowing heart,
She flew back to her home,
Where Twit and Chirrup trembling staid,
Disconsolate and lone.
My little birdie dears, she said,
In bitterness and pain,
Our darling Downy to his nest
Will never come again.
His wilful disobedience
To my direct commands,
Has brought its own dire punishment,
Such as all sin demands.
I thought I could have trusted him,
For he, as you well know,
Promised me very faithfully
Not from these trees to go.
I want you both, my birdies dear,
To learn from this to see
How lying disobedience
Will ever punished be.
So take a lesson from it, dears,
And be resolved that you
Will never disobey or lie,
Whatever else you do.
O yes, we'll try our very best,
Your orders to obey,
And always strive to tell the truth,
Whether at work or play.
Dear children who may hear this tale,
You, too, should also try
To do whatever you are told,
And never tell a lie.
* * * * *
THE ANGEL ON WAR.
An angel spirit winging
Through aerial space her flight,
O'er peaceful, sleep-bound nature
Thus sang one autumn night:
What are those hosts advancing
In legions o'er the plain,
Through orchards heavy laden
And fields of full-eared grain?
Eastward and westward come they
Shining like gems of light,
Beneath soft, silvery moonbeams
Of peaceful, silent night.
Surely assembled nations
Are gathering for a fête
Of tournament, sham fight or joist,
In pride of strength elate.
Or, may be, some grand meeting
On field of cloth of gold,
Attracts those swarming legions
A peaceful tryst to hold;
For see, the steeds caparisoned
In trappings rich and bright,
With noble, high-bred men astride,
In transports of delight!
The flower of German fatherland,
In manhood's strength and pride,
Press on in measured marching,
By grey-haired veterans' side,
And westward press the youth of France,
Whose ardour none can stay,
Thirsting for laurels in the tilts
And contests of the day.
Emperors, with marshals, generals,
And stalwart men, are there;
Flushed with excitement swift they come
The splendid sports to share,
Doubtless each wears the colours
Of some loved lady fair
Whom they predict shall one day
Their heart and fortunes share.
Now sable night droops kindly
Into the arms of morn,
Who comes to herald in the day
And nature's face adorn?
Heaven's soft grey eastern portals
For her wide open fly,
As the grand sun's golden chariot
Wheels proudly through the sky.
Night's gentle Queen and star gems
Withdraw their gracious sway,
As the sun in rose-hued splendour
Kisses to life the day.
Waters like polished silver
Dotting the plain like shields,
Babble their morning greeting
From golden, grain-crowned fields.
Then the glad light of morning
Trips joyful o'er the plain,
As the angel horror stricken
Takes up her strain again,
Alas! those hosts advancing
In hot haste from afar,
But yesternight so joyous,
Now close in bloody war.
And, as ferocious tigers,
On tasting human blood,
Revel in greedy madness
Amid the crimson flood,
So these fierce hostile warriors,
Now stained with human gore,
Grow unrestrained and reckless,
And fiercer than before.
The valley late so peaceful
Steams with the rage of strife,
Fast down the gloated furrows
Flows the red stream of life.
Maddened to rage and fury,
Th' opposing hosts contend,
And murder, ruin, carnage, death,
Through the gorged plains extend.
What can be, cried the angel,
The meaning of such strife,
And how dare man thus rashly
Trifle with human life?
Can all the so-called glory,
That man to man can pay,
Outweigh the dire inheritance
Of this unhallowed fray?
Are hearts thus drunk with life blood,
And hands thus steeped in gore,
Not calculated to become
More brutal than before?
And do not youth and manhood
Deserve a better fate,
Than to be rashly sacrificed
To jealous greed and hate?
Thousands of glittering lances
Cut through the startled air,
As valiant chiefs and mighty men
The blood-red carnage share.
Flashes, like sunlight splendour,
Gleam forth from brazen shields,
And burnished arms dart back the light,
O'er the blood-gorged fields.
List! said the angel, sighing,
From many a ghastly mound
Deep groans of torture mingle
With the battle din around.
What piteous cries of anguish
Are those, who dying moan,
That they may never more behold
Their dearly loved at home!
Some of earth's best and brightest,
'Mid prospects glad and gay,
Others to loved ones plighted
Slaughter
| 551.57112 | 2,625 |
2023-11-16 18:24:58.3132680
| 719 | 113 |
Produced by Col Choat. HTML version by Al Haines.
The Recollections of Geoffrey Hamlyn
by
Henry Kingsley
TO
MY FATHER AND MOTHER
THIS BOOK, THE FRUIT OF SO MANY WEARY
YEARS OF SEPARATION, IS DEDICATED WITH
THE DEEPEST LOVE AND REVERENCE
CONTENTS
I INTRODUCTORY.
II THE COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE OF JOHN THORNTON, CLERK, AND THE
BIRTH OF SOME ONE WHO TAKES RATHER A CONSPICUOUS PART IN OUR
STORY.
III THE HISTORY OF (A CERTAIN FAMILY LIVING IN) EUROPE, FROM THE
BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR TO THE PEACE OF 1818, CONTAINING FACTS
HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED.
IV SOME NEW FACES.
V IN WHICH THE READER IS MADE ACCOMPLICE TO A MISPRISION OF
FELONY.
VI GEORGE HAWKER GOES TO THE FAIR--WRESTLES, BUT GETS THROWN ON
HIS BACK, SHOOTS AT A MARK, BUT MISSES IT.
VII MAJOR BUCKLEY GIVES HIS OPINION ON TROUT-FISHING, ON
EMIGRATION, AND ON GEORGE HAWKER.
VIII THE VICAR HEARS SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE.
IX WHEN THE KYE CAME HAME.
X IN WHICH WE SEE A GOOD DEAL OF MISCHIEF BREWING.
XI IN WHICH THE VICAR PREACHES A FAREWELL SERMON.
XII IN WHICH A VERY MUSCULAR CHRISTIAN INDEED, COMES ON THE STAGE.
XIII THE DISCOVERY OF THE FORGERIES.
XIV THE MAJOR'S VISIT TO THE "NAG'S-HEAD."
XV THE BRIGHTON RACES, AND WHAT HAPPENED THEREAT.
XVI THE END OF MARY'S EXPEDITION.
XVII EXODUS.
XVIII THE FIRST PUFF OF THE SOUTH WIND.
XIX I HIRE A NEW HORSEBREAKER.
XX A WARM CHRISTMAS DAY.
XXI JIM STOCKBRIDGE BEGINS TO TAKE ANOTHER VIEW OF MATTERS.
XXII SAM BUCKLEY'S EDUCATION.
XXIII TOONARBIN.
XXIV IN WHICH MARY HAWKER LOSES ONE OF HER OLDEST SWEETHEARTS.
XXV IN WHICH THE NEW DEAN OF B---- MAKES HIS APPEARANCE, AND
ASTONISHES THE MAJOR OUT OF HIS PROPRIETY.
XXVI WHITE HEATHENS
XXVII THE GOLDEN VINEYARD.
XXVIII A GENTLEMAN FROM THE WARS.
XXIX SAM MEETS WITH A RIVAL, AND HOW HE TREATED HIM.
XXX HOW THE CHILD WAS LOST, AND HOW HE GOT FOUND AGAIN--WHAT
CECIL SAID TO SAM WHEN THEY FOUND HIM--AND HOW IN CASTING
LOTS, ALTHOUGH CECIL WON THE
| 551.632678 | 2,626 |
2023-11-16 18:24:58.5063800
| 1,314 | 144 |
E-text prepared by Melissa McDaniel, Emmy, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 44774-h.htm or 44774-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44774/44774-h/44774-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44774/44774-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/mamieswatchword00math
Little Sunbeams.
V.
MAMIE'S WATCHWORD.
* * * * * *
By the Author of this Volume.
I.
LITTLE SUNBEAMS.
By JOANNA H. MATHEWS, Author of the "Bessie Books."
I. BELLE POWERS' LOCKET. 16mo $1.00
II. DORA'S MOTTO. 16mo 1.00
III. LILY NORRIS' ENEMY 1.00
IV. JESSIE'S PARROT 1.00
V. MAMIE'S WATCHWORD 1.00
VI. NELLIE'S HOUSEKEEPING 1.00
_The Set in a neat box_, $6.00
II.
THE FLOWERETS.
A series of Stories on the Commandments. 6 vols. In a box $3.60
"It is not easy to say too good a word for this admirable
series. Interesting, graphic, impressive, they teach with
great distinctness the cardinal lessons which they would
have the youthful reader learn."--_S. S. Times._
III.
THE BESSIE BOOKS.
6 vols. In a box $7.50
"Bessie is a very charming specimen of little girlhood. It
is a lovely story of home and nursery life among a family of
bright, merry little children."--_Presbyterian._
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,
_New York_.
* * * * * *
MAMIE'S WATCHWORD.
"Thou God Seest Me."
by
JOANNA H. MATHEWS,
Author of the "Bessie Books" and the "Flowerets"
[Illustration]
New York:
Robert Carter and Brothers,
530 Broadway.
1882.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by
Robert Carter and Brothers
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I. THE DOLL 9
II. HOW BELLE DID IT 27
III. THE BREAKWATER 47
IV. FORBIDDEN PLEASURES 69
V. THE DUCKLING 88
VI. POOR LITTLE WAGTAIL 110
VII. THE FIRST STEP 133
VIII. DISOBEDIENCE 151
IX. ADRIFT 172
X. RESCUE 190
XI. REPENTANCE 212
[Illustration]
MAMIE'S WATCHWORD.
I.
_THE DOLL._
"MAMMA! can I have it? Can I, mamma? Buy it for me, buy it; will you,
mamma?"
"May be so, dear. I will see about it."
"No, not may be; not see about it, mamma! I must have it, and I know
you can afford it!"
The speakers were Mrs. Stone and her little daughter Mamie; the scene,
Miss Ashton's broad, shady piazza, where, at this time, a little fair
was taking place.
And what was the object on which Mamie's heart was so set; for which
she was begging so persistently, you will ask.
Why, just this.
A beautiful doll; a famous, much-talked-of doll, dressed as an infant
by Miss Annie Stanton, for the fair; a doll eagerly desired by all the
children present, as any little girl will readily believe when she
hears that seldom has a doll had such an outfit.
Mamie's eyes were fixed eagerly upon her as she pleaded and entreated
with her mother, holding fast to her hand, and almost dancing in her
extreme anxiety to secure the much-coveted prize.
"Perhaps I can, dear," said Mrs. Stone's rather languid voice, as she
looked smilingly down at her little daughter; "perhaps I can afford it;
but you know, Mamie, that the doll is to be sold to whoever shall offer
the highest price for her."
"Well, _you_ offer the highest price for her, mamma; do, oh, do! Offer
a great deal more than any one else, so I shall be sure to have her. I
want her so!"
"But it is not to be known what each one offers till the fair is over,
Mamie," said her mother; "then, whoever has said they will give the
most, is to take the doll."
"Ask Miss Stanton to tell you," pleaded Mamie.
Mrs. Stone shook her head.
"That would not be fair, Mamie; and Miss Stanton would refuse to tell
if I asked her. I will make an offer for the doll, but you will have to
take your chance with the rest, my darling."
Mamie was so little used to any opposition or contradiction from her
over-indulgent mother that she did not know how to meet it; and, though
it was made thus plain to her that it might not be within her mother's
power to give her the doll, she felt as though the possibility of
disappointment were more than she could bear, and as if it would be
altogether mamma's fault if the longed-for toy did
| 551.82579 | 2,627 |
2023-11-16 18:24:58.5988080
| 1,024 | 395 |
Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
DOROTHY DALE'S
GREAT SECRET
BY
MARGARET PENROSE
AUTHOR OF "DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY," "DOROTHY DALE AT
GLENWOOD SCHOOL," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE DOROTHY DALE SERIES
By Margaret Penrose
Cloth. Illustrated.
DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY
DOROTHY DALE AT GLENWOOD SCHOOL
DOROTHY DALE'S GREAT SECRET
(Other Volumes in preparation)
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY NEW YORK
Copyright, 1909, by
Cupples & Leon Company
Dorothy Dale's Great Secret
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. An Automobile Ride 1
II. Tavia Has Plans 17
III. A Cup of Tea 28
IV. The Apparition 39
V. An Untimely Letter 47
VI. On the Lawn 55
VII. At Sunset Lake 63
VIII. A Lively Afternoon 72
IX. Dorothy and Tavia 79
X. Leaving Glenwood 88
XI. A Jolly Home-Coming 96
XII. Dorothy is Worried 109
XIII. Little Urania 118
XIV. The Runaway 129
XV. A Spell of the "Glumps" 139
XVI. Dorothy in Buffalo 147
XVII. At the Play 161
XVIII. Behind the Scenes 172
XIX. The Clue 183
XX. Dorothy and the Manager 195
XXI. Adrift in a Strange City 205
XXII. In Dire Distress 211
XXIII. The Secret--Conclusion 231
DOROTHY DALE'S GREAT SECRET
CHAPTER I
AN AUTOMOBILE RIDE
"There is one thing perfectly delightful about boarding schools,"
declared Tavia, "when the term closes we can go away, and leave it in
another world. Now, at Dalton, we would have to see the old schoolhouse
every time we went to Daly's for a pound of butter, a loaf of bread--and
oh, yes! I almost forgot! Mom said we could get some bologna. Whew! Don't
your mouth water, Dorothy? We always did get good bologna at Daly's!"
"Bologna!" echoed Dorothy. "As if the young ladies of Glenwood School
would disgrace their appetites with such vulgar fare!"
At this she snatched up an empty cracker box, almost devouring its
parifine paper, in hopes of finding a few more crumbs, although Tavia had
poured the last morsels of the wafers down her own throat the night
before this conversation took place. Yes, Tavia had even made a funnel of
the paper and "took" the powdered biscuits as doctors administer headache
remedies.
"All the same," went on Tavia, "I distinctly remember that you had a
longing for the skin of my sausage, along with the end piece, which you
always claimed for your own share."
"Oh, please stop!" besought Dorothy, "or I shall have to purloin my hash
from the table to-night and stuff it into--"
"The armlet of your new, brown kid gloves," finished Tavia. "They're the
very color of a nice, big, red-brown bologna, and I believe the
inspiration is a direct message. 'The Evolution of a Bologna Sausage,'
modern edition, bound in full kid. Mine for the other glove. Watch all
the hash within sight to-night, and we'll ask the girls to our
clam-bake."
"Dear old Dalton," went on Dorothy with a sigh. "After all there is no
place like home," and she dropped her blond head on her arms, in the
familiar pose Tavia described as "thinky."
"But home was never like this," declared the other, following up
Dorothy's sentiment with her usual interjection of slang. At the same
moment she made a dart for a tiny bottle of Dorothy's perfume, which was
almost emptied down the front of Tavia's blue dress, before the owner of
the treasure had time to interfere.
"Oh
| 551.918218 | 2,628 |
2023-11-16 18:24:58.9097430
| 2,221 | 194 |
Produced by Richard Hulse, David E. Brown, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained.
Archaic or alternate spelling which may have been in use at the time
of publication has been retained.
SCENES IN THE WEST,
OR
The Sunday-School
AND
TEMPERANCE.
[Illustration]
BY A MISSIONARY.
PHILADELPHIA:
LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
42 NORTH NINTH STREET.
1873.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by the
LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States in
and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
Lancaster, Pa.:
INQUIRER PRINTING AND PUBLISHING COMPANY,
Stereotypers and Printers.
PREFACE.
The author of this volume has brought together a few incidents in
_real_ life to illustrate the power of godliness in the individual, and
the blessings of the Sunday-school, the influence of the prayer-meeting
and the cause of temperance in the church and in the community.
That the God of all our mercies may bless this little book to the
reader, is the prayer of the author.
[Illustration: CONTENTS]
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. THE MISSIONARY 13
II. MISFORTUNES 27
III. RELIEF OBTAINED 39
IV. AN APPOINTMENT 45
V. THE MISSIONARY PREACHES 56
VI. MR. STEELE’S MEETING 62
VII. MR. MASON AND MR. WILSON 69
VIII. MISSIONARY VISITS 78
IX. OPPOSITION 84
X. SUNDAY-SCHOOL ORGANIZED--LOCAL PREACHER 92
XI. MR. KERR AND HIS FAMILY 98
XII. THE TEMPERANCE CAUSE 109
XIII. MR. TRUMAN--MISSIONARY’S DEPARTURE 118
XIV. WORKINGS OF THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND TEMPERANCE SOCIETY 123
XV. GEORGE AND MARY 134
XVI. MR. BROWN’S FAMILY 140
XVII. MISSIONARY AGAIN VISITS THE WEST 145
XVIII. DEATH 152
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
SCENES IN THE WEST.
CHAPTER I.
_THE MISSIONARY._
“The melancholy days had come,
The saddest of the year.”
All nature seemed to be resting in a quiet dreamy slumber. The bee
had well nigh laid up its winter store, and many of the birds were
preparing to leave for more genial climes in the sunny south. All these
were but the harbingers of the cold storms that were lingering behind
the snow-covered mountains of the north. Indian summer, the season of
romance, like the life of a humble Christian, leaves its loveliest
scenes to its departing hours. It was in the midst of these balmy days
that you might have seen a traveler with a worn satchel in one hand
and a staff in the other coming up a narrow lane leading to the home
of a prosperous Western settler. He walked slowly, for he had left
behind him many weary miles; his countenance, though calm, was pale and
languid; yet his eye seemed to bespeak the hope that here he might find
the much-needed rest.
Two men were standing beside the gate at the end of the lane when the
stranger came up. The one was a kindly disposed person with but little
force of character, and deficient in moral courage, whom we shall know
as Mr. Kerr. The other, whose name was Steele, was the owner of the
premises.
He was a large man, selfish and resolute, a conceited formalist,
bigoted, exceedingly headstrong, and greatly prejudiced against all
Christian zeal.
No sooner did Mr. Steele notice the approach of the stranger than he
turned to Mr. Kerr and exclaimed: “There, I’ll bet you, comes that
Sunday-school, temperance loafer I’ve heard so much of lately. I reckon
he expects to get in here; but I tell you, sir, my ‘shanty’ don’t hold
the like of him, while I’m boss here, ‘that’s said!’” This was uttered
with emphatic bitterness. To this passionate outburst Mr. Kerr ventured
a little palliation by the remark that he had heard that in the other
settlement the people seemed to like the missionary very well.
“_You_ would have nothing to do with his nonsense, would you?” retorted
Mr. Steele with a look of scorn.
“No,” feebly and insincerely muttered Mr. Kerr, “we have got along
so far without it, and I guess we can get along without it a little
further.”
“That’s my ticket,” sharply added Mr. Steele.
By this time the stranger had reached the gate. A calm, pleasant smile
lit up his pale countenance; and he accosted them with,
“Good evening, friends.”
“Good evening, sir,” responded Mr. Kerr.
“How d’ye do, sir,” thundered out Mr. Steele.
“This has been a very pleasant day,” ventured the traveler.
“Yes, sir,” curtly replied Mr. Steele.
“I am very tired,” continued the stranger; “could I stay with you
to-night?”
“You are the fellow who goes about lecturing on temperance, and getting
up Sunday-schools, aint you?” sarcastically rejoined Mr. Steele, his
face reddening.
“That is my calling,” meekly added the man of God.
“Then you don’t stay all night in my house; I don’t harbor fellows who
are too lazy to work,” sneeringly answered the excited Mr. Steele.
“But I am very tired, and my head aches badly; I’ll pay you well.”
“Cant help it. The sooner you make tracks the better,” retorted the
unfeeling man.
“I am afraid it will storm to-night,” continued the missionary,
pointing to a dark cloud which was looming up in the west.
“You might have stayed at home and minded your own business, instead
of minding other people’s, and kept out of this trouble,” replied Mr.
Steele, with a look so severe that the poor wanderer lost all hope of
any comfort or favor from this seemingly inhospitable dwelling; so he
inquired how far it was to the next house.
“That depends entirely upon which way you go,” mockingly answered the
hard-hearted man, with a wink to Mr. Kerr, and a conceited smile at the
unfeeling wit he had displayed.
“I expect to continue my labors westward,” gently added the missionary.
His soul was grieved at the hardness of this man’s heart, and for a
moment he felt like looking upon his persecutor with anger. But he
remembered that even his Lord and Master was mocked and derided; that
“when He was reviled, He reviled not again; but as a lamb before his
shearers is dumb, so He opened not his mouth.” And the humble follower
of the Man of Sorrows in silence offered up the prayer, “Father,
forgive them, they know not what they do.”
The door of common humanity being closed against him, he made up his
mind to continue his journey, let the dangers and privations be what
they might. An angel seemed to whisper, “I will lead thee in the way in
which thou shalt go;” so he took courage.
Being thirsty, he ventured to ask for a drink of water.
“You can go to the spring,” was the abrupt answer, and the cruel man
turned upon his heel, and in company with Mr. Kerr passed on to the
barn, leaving the suffering one standing by the gate alone.
But George, a lad of about ten years, and Mary, a little flower of
seven summers, had looked on and listened with the curiosity common
to children. Their hearts were filled with pity toward the poor man;
and, when even a drink of water was denied him, the inherent kindness,
implanted in all our natures, was instantly awakened.
In a moment, as the missionary turned the corner of the yard, the two
children met him each with “a cup of cold water.” “Here is good fresh
water, please drink,” said the little ones. His heart was melted at
this unexpected exhibition of kindness; and invoking a blessing upon
the dear children, he raised the cup to his lips and was refreshed.
He then opened his satchel, and gave each child a picture card and
Sunday-school paper, also cards for the men, together with a neat
little tract for their mother. Bidding them good-by, he with a sigh
resumed his lonely journey.
The children, happy in having done a kindness, hurried to their
mother, and were soon showing and admiring the papers and cards; she,
mother-like, very naturally shared their pleasure, but thought of the
stranger with a pang of regret, for she feared that he would take the
road leading into an unsettled region, infested with wild beasts and
roving Indians. After admiring the pictures, she told the children all
she knew of the Sunday-school, for which these beautiful things were
made, at the same time hoping that her husband’s opposition to them
might be removed.
“I wish there was Sunday-school here,” said George.
“Won’t there be Sunday-school here, mother?” exclaimed both at once.
“I’m afraid not,” said their mother, sorrowfully, knowing the hostility
of many of the neighbors toward anything of the kind.
“Why not, mother?” innocently asked the children.
This
| 552.229153 | 2,629 |
2023-11-16 18:24:59.0505380
| 1,126 | 397 |
Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny
AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET
By Honore De Balzac
Translated by Clara Bell
DEDICATION
To Mademoiselle Marie de Montheau
AT THE SIGN OF THE CAT AND RACKET
Half-way down the Rue Saint-Denis, almost at the corner of the Rue du
Petit-Lion, there stood formerly one of those delightful houses which
enable historians to reconstruct old Paris by analogy. The threatening
walls of this tumbledown abode seemed to have been decorated with
hieroglyphics. For what other name could the passer-by give to the Xs
and Vs which the horizontal or diagonal timbers traced on the front,
outlined by little parallel cracks in the plaster? It was evident that
every beam quivered in its mortices at the passing of the lightest
vehicle. This venerable structure was crowned by a triangular roof of
which no example will, ere long, be seen in Paris. This covering, warped
by the extremes of the Paris climate, projected three feet over the
roadway, as much to protect the threshold from the rainfall as to
shelter the wall of a loft and its sill-less dormer-window. This upper
story was built of planks, overlapping each other like slates, in order,
no doubt, not to overweight the frail house.
One rainy morning in the month of March, a young man, carefully wrapped
in his cloak, stood under the awning of a shop opposite this old house,
which he was studying with the enthusiasm of an antiquary. In point of
fact, this relic of the civic life of the sixteenth century offered
more than one problem to the consideration of an observer. Each story
presented some singularity; on the first floor four tall, narrow
windows, close together, were filled as to the lower panes with boards,
so as to produce the doubtful light by which a clever salesman can
ascribe to his goods the color his customers inquire for. The young man
seemed very scornful of this part of the house; his eyes had not yet
rested on it. The windows of the second floor, where the Venetian blinds
were drawn up, revealing little dingy muslin curtains behind the large
Bohemian glass panes, did not interest him either. His attention was
attracted to the third floor, to the modest sash-frames of wood, so
clumsily wrought that they might have found a place in the Museum of
Arts and Crafts to illustrate the early efforts of French carpentry.
These windows were glazed with small squares of glass so green that, but
for his good eyes, the young man could not have seen the blue-checked
cotton curtains which screened the mysteries of the room from profane
eyes. Now and then the watcher, weary of his fruitless contemplation,
or of the silence in which the house was buried, like the whole
neighborhood, dropped his eyes towards the lower regions. An involuntary
smile parted his lips each time he looked at the shop, where, in fact,
there were some laughable details.
A formidable wooden beam, resting on four pillars, which appeared to
have bent under the weight of the decrepit house, had been encrusted
with as many coats of different paint as there are of rouge on an old
duchess' cheek. In the middle of this broad and fantastically carved
joist there was an old painting representing a cat playing rackets. This
picture was what moved the young man to mirth. But it must be said
that the wittiest of modern painters could not invent so comical a
caricature. The animal held in one of its forepaws a racket as big as
itself, and stood on its hind legs to aim at hitting an enormous ball,
returned by a man in a fine embroidered coat. Drawing, color, and
accessories, all were treated in such a way as to suggest that the
artist had meant to make game of the shop-owner and of the passing
observer. Time, while impairing this artless painting, had made it yet
more grotesque by introducing some uncertain features which must have
puzzled the conscientious idler. For instance, the cat's tail had been
eaten into in such a way that it might now have been taken for the
figure of a spectator--so long, and thick, and furry were the tails of
our forefathers' cats. To the right of the picture, on an azure field
which ill-disguised the decay of the wood, might be read the name
"Guillaume," and to the left, "Successor to Master Chevrel." Sun and
rain had worn away most of the gilding parsimoniously applied to the
letters of this superscription, in which the Us and Vs had changed
places in obedience to the laws of old-world orthography.
To quench the pride of those who believe that the world is growing
cleverer day by day, and that modern humbug surpasses everything, it may
be observed that these signs, of which the origin seems so whimsical to
many Paris merchants, are the dead pictures of once living pictures
by which our roguish ancestors contrived to tempt customers into their
houses.
| 552.369948 | 2,630 |
2023-11-16 18:24:59.1447920
| 976 | 599 |
Produced by Jonathan Ingram and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
FRANCIS BEAUMONT
Born 1584
Died 1616
JOHN FLETCHER
Born 1579
Died 1625
_BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER_
THE MAD LOVER
THE LOYAL SUBJECT
RULE A WIFE, AND HAVE A WIFE
THE LAWS OF CANDY
THE FALSE ONE
THE LITTLE FRENCH LAWYER
THE TEXT EDITED BY
A. R. WALLER, M.A.
CAMBRIDGE:
at the University Press
1906
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER.
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
Glasgow: 50, WELLINGTON STREET.
Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS.
New York: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
[_All Rights reserved._]
THE
MAD LOVER,
A
TRAGI-COMEDY.
Persons Represented in the Play.
Astorax, _King of_ Paphos.
Memnon, _the General and the Mad Lover_.
Polydor, _Brother to_ Memnon, _beloved of_ Calis.
Eumenes, } _two eminent Souldiers._
Polybius, }
Chilax, _an old merry Souldier_.
Syphax, _a Souldier in love with the Princess_.
Stremon, _a Souldier that can sing_.
Demagoras, _Servant to the General_.
_Chirurgion_.
_Fool_.
_Page_.
_Courtiers_.
_WOMEN._
Calis, _Sister to the King, and Mistris to_ Memnon.
Cleanthe _Sister to_ Syphax.
Lucippe, _one of the Princesses Women_.
_Priest of_ Venus, _an old wanton_.
_A Nun._
Cloe, _a Camp Baggage_.
_The Scene_ Paphos.
The principal Actors were,
_Richard Burbadge._
_Robert Benfeild._
_Nathanael Feild._
_Henry Condel._
_John Lowin._
_William Eglestone._
_Richard Sharpe._
_Actus primus. Scena prima._
_Flourish._ _Enter_ Astorax _King of_ Paphos, _his Sister_
Calis, _Train_, _and_ Cleanthe, Lucippe _Gentlewomen, at
one door; at the other_ Eumenes _a Souldier_.
_Eume._ Health to my Soveraign.
_King._ _Eumenes_, welcome:
Welcome to _Paphos_, Souldier, to our love,
And that fair health ye wish us, through the Camp
May it disperse it self, and make all happy;
How does the General, the valiant _Memnon_,
And how his Wars, _Eumenes_?
_Eume._ The Gods have giv'n you (Royal Sir) a Souldier,
Better ne're sought a danger, more approv'd
In way of War, more master of his fortunes,
Expert in leading 'em; in doing valiant,
In following all his deeds to Victories,
And holding fortune certain there.
_King._ O Souldier,
Thou speak'st a man indeed; a Generals General,
A soul conceiv'd a Souldier.
_Eumen._ Ten set Battels
Against the strong usurper _Diocles_
(Whom long experience had begot a Leader,
Ambition rais'd too mighty) hath your _Memnon_
Won, and won gloriously, distrest and shook him
Even from the head of all his hopes to nothing:
In three, he beat the Thunder-bolt his Brother,
Forc'd him to wall himself up: there not safe,
Shook him with warlike Engins like an Earthquake,
Till like a Snail
| 552.464202 | 2,631 |
2023-11-16 18:24:59.3932290
| 4,138 | 73 |
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: "An Avalanche!" declared Fogg. "Dodge--something's coming!"
Page 254. Ralph on the Overland Express.]
RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS
OR
THE TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS OF A YOUNG ENGINEER
BY
ALLEN CHAPMAN
AUTHOR OF "RALPH OF THE ROUNDHOUSE,"
"RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER,"
"RALPH ON THE ENGINE,"
"DAREWELL CHUMS SERIES," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
THE RAILROAD SERIES
By Allen Chapman
12mo. Illustrated. Cloth
RALPH OF THE ROUNDHOUSE
Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man
RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER
Or, Clearing the Track
RALPH ON THE ENGINE
Or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail
RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS
Or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer
(Other Volumes in Preparation.)
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, New York
Copyright, 1910, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP
Ralph on the Overland Express
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. No. 999 1
II. A Special Passenger 12
III. One of the Rules 22
IV. A Warning 35
V. At Bay 43
VI. Four Medals 51
VII. Dave Bissell, Train Boy 60
VIII. An Astonishing Discovery 68
IX. The Light of Home 76
X. Fire! 88
XI. The Master Mechanic 95
XII. A Good Friend 104
XIII. The "Black Hand" 114
XIV. A Serious Plot 123
XV. "The Silvandos" 129
XVI. Zeph Dallas and His "Mystery" 138
XVII. In Widener's Gap 145
XVIII. At the Semaphore 153
XIX. The Boy Who Was Hazed 160
XX. "Lord Lionel Montague" 171
XXI. Archie Graham's Invention 179
XXII. Ike Slump Again 188
XXIII. A Critical Moment 195
XXIV. The New Run 203
XXV. The Mountain Division 209
XXVI. Mystery 217
XXVII. The Railroad President 225
XXVIII. A Race Against Time 233
XXIX. Zeph Dallas Again 244
XXX. Snowbound 254
XXXI. Conclusion 264
RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS
CHAPTER I
NO. 999
"All aboard."
Ralph Fairbanks swung into the cab of No. 999 with the lever hooked up
for forward motion, and placed a firm hand on the throttle.
It looked as though half the working force of the railroad, and every
juvenile friend he had ever known in Stanley Junction, had come down
to the little old depot that beautiful summer afternoon to especially
celebrate the greatest event in his active railroad career.
Ralph was the youngest engineer in the service of the Great Northern,
and there was full reason why he should center attention and interest
on this the proudest moment of his life. No. 999 was the crack
locomotive of the system, brand new and resplendent. Its headlight was
a great glow of crystal, its metal bands and trimmings shone like
burnished gold, and its cab was as spick and span and neat as the
private office of the division superintendent himself.
No. 999 was out for a trial run--a record run, Ralph hoped to make it.
One particular car attached to the rear of the long train was the main
object of interest. It was a new car to the road, and its blazoned
name suggested an importance out of the ordinary--"China & Japan
Mail."
This car had just come in over a branch section by a short cut from
the north. If No. 999 could beat timetable routine half an hour and
deliver the mail to the Overland Express at Bridgeport, two hundred
miles distant, on time, it would create a new schedule, and meant a
good contract for the Great Northern, besides a saving of three hours'
time over the former roundabout trip of the China & Japan Mail.
Ralph had exchanged jolly greetings with his friends up to now. In an
instant, however, the sonorous, echoing "All aboard" from the
conductor way down the train was a signal for duty, prompt and
imperative. The pleasant depot scene faded from the sight and mind of
the ambitious young railroader. He turned his strict attention now to
the cab interior, as though the locomotive was a thing of life and
intelligence.
"Let 'er go, Ralph!"
John Griscom, the oldest engineer on the road, off duty, but a
privileged character on all occasions, stepped from the gossiping
crowd of loungers at a little distance. He swung up into the cab with
the expert airiness of long usage. His bluff, hearty face expressed
admiration and satisfaction, as his rapid eye took in the cab layout.
"I'll hold up the tender rail till we get to crossing," announced
Griscom. "Lad, this is front rank service all right, and I'm happy to
say that you deserve it."
"Thank you, Mr. Griscom," answered Ralph, his face beaming at the
handsome compliment. "I don't forget, though, that you helped some."
"Oh, so, so," declared Griscom. "I say, Fogg, you're named right."
It was to Lemuel Fogg that Griscom spoke. Fogg was Ralph's fireman on
the present trip. He presented a decided contrast to the brisk, bright
engineer of No. 999. He shoveled in the coal with a grim mutter, and
slammed the fire door shut with a vicious and unnecessary bang.
"What you getting at?" he growled, with a surly eye on Griscom.
"Fogg--fog, see? foggy, that's you--and groggy, eh? Sun's shining--why
don't you take it in? No slouch privilege firing this magnificent
king of the road, I'm thinking, and you ought to think so, too."
"Huh!" snapped Fogg, "it'll be kid luck, if we get through."
"Oho! there's where the shoe pinches, is it?" bantered the old
railroad veteran. "Come, be fair, Fogg. You was glad to win your own
spurs when you were young."
"All right, mind the try-out, you hear me!" snorted Fogg ungraciously.
"You mind your own business."
"Say," shot out Griscom quickly, as he caught a whiff from Fogg's
lips, "you be sure you mind yours--and the rules," he added, quite
sternly, "I advise you not to get too near the furnace."
"Eh, why not?"
"Your breath might catch fire, that's why," announced Griscom bluntly,
and turned his back on the disgruntled fireman.
Ralph had not caught this sharp cross-fire of repartee. His mind had
been intently fixed on his task. He had started up the locomotive
slowly, but now, clearing the depot switches, he pulled the lever a
notch or two, watching carefully ahead. As the train rounded a curve
to an air line, a series of brave hurrahs along the side of the track
sent a thrill of pleasure through Ralph's frame.
The young engineer had only a fleeting second or two to bestow on a
little group, standing at the rear fence of a yard backing down to the
tracks. His mother was there, gaily waving a handkerchief. A neighbor
joined in the welcome, and half-a-dozen boys and small children with
whom Ralph was a rare favorite made the air ring with enthusiastic
cheers.
"Friends everywhere, lad," spoke Griscom in a kindly tone, and then,
edging nearer to his prime young favorite, he half-whispered: "Keep
your eye on this grouch of a Fogg."
"Why, you don't mean anything serious, Mr. Griscom?" inquired Ralph,
with a quick glance at the fireman.
"Yes, I do," proclaimed the old railroader plainly. "He's got it in
for you--it's the talk of the yards, and he's in just the right frame
of mind to bite off his own nose to spite his face. So long."
The locomotive had slowed up for crossing signals, and Griscom got to
the ground with a careless sail through the air, waved his hand, and
Ralph buckled down to real work on No. 999.
He glanced at the schedule sheet and the clock. The gauges were in
fine working order. There was not a full head of steam on as yet and
the fire box was somewhat over full, but there was a strong draft and
a twenty-mile straight run before them, and Ralph felt they could make
it easily.
"Don't choke her too full, Mr. Fogg," he remarked to the fireman.
"Teach me!" snorted Fogg, and threw another shovelful into the box
already crowded, and backed against the tender bar with a surly,
defiant face.
Ralph made no retort. Fogg did, indeed, know his business, if he was
only minded to attend to it. He was somewhat set and old-fashioned in
his ways, and he had grown up in the service from wiper.
Ralph recalled Griscom's warning. It was not pleasant to run two
hundred miles with a grumpy cab comrade. Ralph wished they had given
him some other helper. However, he reasoned that even a crack fireman
might be proud of a regular run on No. 999, and he did not believe
that Fogg would hurt his own chances by any tactics that might delay
them.
The landscape drifted by swiftly and more swiftly, as Ralph gave the
locomotive full head. A rare enthusiasm and buoyancy came into the
situation. There was something fascinating in the breathless rush, the
superb power and steadiness of the crack machine, so easy of control
that she was a marvel of mechanical genius and perfection.
Like a panorama the scenery flashed by, and in rapid mental panorama
Ralph reviewed the glowing and stirring events of his young life,
which in a few brief months had carried him from his menial task as an
engine wiper up to the present position which he cherished so
proudly.
Ralph was a railroader by inheritance as well as predilection. His
father had been a pioneer in the beginning of the Great Northern.
After he died, through the manipulations of an unworthy village
magnate named Gasper Farrington, his widow and son found themselves at
the mercy of that heartless schemer, who held a mortgage on their
little home.
In the first volume of the present series, entitled "Ralph of the
Roundhouse," it was told how Ralph left school to earn a living and
help his self-sacrificing mother in her poverty.
Ralph got a job in the roundhouse, and held it, too, despite the
malicious efforts of Ike Slump, a ne'er-do-well who tried to undermine
him. Ralph became a favorite with the master mechanic of the road
through some remarkable railroad service in which he saved the
railroad shops from destruction by fire.
Step by step Ralph advanced, and the second volume of this series,
called "Ralph in the Switch Tower," showed how manly resolve, and
being right and doing right, enabled him to overcome his enemies and
compel old Farrington to release the fraudulent mortgage.
Incidentally, Ralph made many friends. He assisted a poor waif named
Van Sherwin to reach a position of comfort and honor, and was
instrumental in aiding a former business partner of his father, one
Farwell Gibson, to complete a short line railroad through the woods
near Dover.
In the third volume of the present series, entitled "Ralph on the
Engine," was related how our young railroad friend became an active
employee of the Great Northern as a fireman. He made some record runs
with old John Griscom, the veteran of the road. In that volume was
also depicted the ambitious but blundering efforts of Zeph Dallas, a
farmer boy who was determined to break into railroading, and there was
told as well the grand success of little Limpy Joe, a railroad
<DW36>, who ran a restaurant in an old, dismantled box car.
These and other staunch, loyal friends had rallied around Ralph with
all the influence they could exert, when after a creditable
examination Ralph was placed on the extra list as an engineer.
Van and Zeph had been among the first to congratulate the friend to
whom they owed so much, when, after a few months' service on
accomodation runs, it was made known that Ralph had been appointed as
engineer of No. 999.
It was Limpy Joe, spending a happy vacation week with motherly,
kind-hearted Mrs. Fairbanks, who led the cheering coterie whom Ralph
had passed near his home as he left the Junction on his present run.
Of his old-time enemies, Ike Slump and Mort Bemis were in jail, the
last Ralph had heard of them. There was a gang in his home town,
however, whom Ralph had reason to fear. It was made up of men who had
tried to <DW36> the Great Northern through an unjust strike. A man
named Jim Evans had been one of the leaders. Fogg had sympathized with
the strikers. Griscom and Ralph had routed the malcontents in a fair,
open-handed battle of arguments and blows. Fogg had been reinstated by
the road, but he had to go back on the promotion list, and his rancor
was intense when he learned that Ralph had been chosen to a position
superior to his own.
"They want young blood, the railroad nobs tell it," the disgruntled
fireman had been heard to remark in his favorite tippling place on
Railroad Street. "Humph! They'll have blood, and lots of it, if they
trust the lives of passengers and crew to a lot of kindergarten
graduates."
Of all this Ralph was thinking as they covered a clear dash of twenty
miles over the best stretch of grading on the road, and with
satisfaction he noted that they had gained three minutes on the
schedule time. He whistled for a station at which they did not stop,
set full speed again as they left the little village behind them, and
glanced sharply at Fogg.
The latter had not spoken a word for over half-an-hour. He had gone
about his duties in a dogged, sullen fashion that showed the
permanency of the grouch with which old John Griscom had charged him.
Ralph had made up his mind to leave his cab companion severely alone
until he became more reasonable. However, there were some things about
Fogg of which the young engineer was bound to take notice, and a new
enlightenment came to Ralph's mind as he now glanced at his helper.
Fogg had slipped clumsily on the tender plate in using the coal rake,
and Ralph had marveled at this unusual lack of steadiness of footing.
Then, twice he had gone out on the running board on some useless
errand, fumbling about in an inexplicable way. His hot, fetid breath
crossed Ralph's face, and the latter arrived at a definite
conclusion, and he was sorry for it. Fogg had been "firing up" from a
secret bottle ever since they had left the Junction, and his condition
was momentarily becoming more serious and alarming.
They were slowing down to a stop at a water tank as Ralph saw Fogg
draw back, and under cover of the tender lift a flask to his lips.
Then Fogg slipped it under the cushion of his seat as he turned to get
some coal.
He dropped the shovel, coal and all, with a wild snort of rage, as
turning towards the fire box door he saw Ralph reach over swiftly,
grab the half empty bottle from under the cushion, and give it a fling
to the road bed, where it was dashed into a thousand pieces.
Blood in his eye, uncontrollable fury in his heart, the irrational
fireman, both fists uplifted, made a wild onslaught upon the young
engineer.
"You impudent meddler!" he raved. "I'll smash you!"
CHAPTER II
A SPECIAL PASSENGER
"Behave yourself," said Ralph Fairbanks quietly.
The young engineer simply gave his furious antagonist a push with his
free hand. The other hand was on duty, and Ralph's eyes as well. He
succeeded in bringing the locomotive to a stop before Fogg needed any
further attention.
The fireman had toppled off his balance and went flat among the coal
of the tender. Ralph did not feel at all important over so easily
repelling his assailant. Fogg was in practically a helpless condition,
and a child could have disturbed his unsteady footing.
With maudlin energy, however, he began to scramble to his feet. All
the time he glowered at Ralph, and made dreadful threats of what he
was going to do to the youth for "knocking him down." Fogg managed to
pull himself erect, but swayed about a good deal, and then observing
that Ralph had the free use of both hands now and was posed on guard
to meet any attack he might meditate, the irate fireman stooped and
seized a big lump of coal. Ralph could hardly hope to dodge the
missile, hemmed in as he was. It was poised for a vicious fling. Just
as Fogg's hand went backwards to aim the projectile, it was seized,
the missile was wrested from his grasp, and a strange voice drawled
out the words:
"I wouldn't waste the company's coal that way, if I were you."
Ralph with some surprise and considerable interest noted the intruder,
who had mounted the tender step just in time to thwart the quarrelsome
designs of Lemuel Fogg. As to the fireman, he wheeled about, looked
ugly, and then as the newcomer laughed squarely in his face, mumbled
some incoherent remark about "two against one," and "fixing both of
them." Then he climbed up on the tender to direct the water tank spout
into place.
"What
| 552.712639 | 2,632 |
2023-11-16 18:24:59.5765650
| 1,110 | 427 |
Produced by readbueno, Graeme Mackreth and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
IN TAUNTON TOWN.
HISTORICAL TALES
BY
E. Everett-Green.
_In handsome crown 8vo volumes, cloth extra, gilt tops. Price 5s. each._
IN TAUNTON TOWN. A Story of the Days of the Rebellion of James, Duke of
Monmouth, in 1685.
SHUT IN. A Tale of the Wonderful Siege of Antwerp in the Year 1585.
THE LOST TREASURE OF TREVLYN. A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot.
IN THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY. A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince.
LOYAL HEARTS AND TRUE. A Story of the Days of Queen Elizabeth.
The Church and the King. A Tale of England in the Days of Henry VIII.
_In post 8vo volumes, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. each._
EVIL MAY-DAY. A Story of 1517.
IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES.
THE LORD OF DYNEVOR. A Tale of the Times of Edward the First.
THE SECRET CHAMBER AT CHAD.
_Published by_
T. NELSON AND SONS, London, Edinburgh, and New York
IN TAUNTON
TOWN
[Illustration: _JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH._]
T. NELSON & SONS
_LONDON, EDINBURGH & NEW YORK_
_In Taunton Town_
_A Story of the
Rebellion of James Duke of Monmouth
in 1685_
_By_
_E. EVERETT-GREEN_
_Author of_ "_In the Days of Chivalry_," "_The Church and the King_,"
"_The Lord of Dynevor_," "_Shut In_"
_&c. &c._
[Illustration]
_T. NELSON AND SONS_
_London, Edinburgh, and New York_
_1896_
CONTENTS.
I. THE SNOWE FAMILY, 9
II. MY CAREER IS SETTLED, 25
III. MY NEW HOME, 42
IV. MY NEW LIFE, 59
V. I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK, 79
VI. VISCOUNT VERE, 95
VII. A WINTER OF PLOTS, 112
VIII. "LE ROI EST MORT," 129
IX. THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM, 146
X. MY RIDE TO LYME, 163
XI. OUR DELIVERER, 180
XII. BACK TO TAUNTON, 197
XIII. THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON, 214
XIV. A GLORIOUS DAY, 230
XV. THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON, 250
XVI. "THE TAUNTON KING," 264
XVII. ON THE WAR-PATH, 281
XVIII. IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY, 297
XIX. A BAPTISM OF BLOOD, 314
XX. IN SUSPENSE, 331
XXI. BACK AT BRIDGEWATER, 348
XXII. FATAL SEDGEMOOR, 364
XXIII. TERRIBLE DAYS, 381
XXIV. THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE, 398
XXV. JUST IN TIME, 413
XXVI. THE TERRIBLE JUDGE, 430
XXVII. THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES, 447
XXVIII. PEACE AFTER STORM, 463
XXIX. MY LORD AND MY LADY, 478
XXX. A CHRISTMAS SCENE, 490
EPILOGUE, 497
IN TAUNTON TOWN.
CHAPTER I.
_THE SNOWE FAMILY._
I certainly never thought when I was young that I should live to write
a book! Scarce do I know how it betides that I have the courage to
make so bold, now that I am well stricken in years, and that my hair
has grown grey. To be sure (if I may say so without laying myself open
to the charge of boasting, a thing abhorrent to me), I have always
been reckoned something of a scholar, notwithstanding that I was
born a farmer's son, and that my father would have been proud could
he but have set his name on paper, as men of his station begin to do
now-a-days, and think little of it. But times have changed since I
was
| 552.895975 | 2,633 |
2023-11-16 18:24:59.7391100
| 1,091 | 401 |
Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, MFR, Charlie Howard, and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber’s Note: Italicized text is enclosed in _underscores_.
A MOTOR-FLIGHT
THROUGH FRANCE
[Illustration: CHAUVIGNY: RUINS OF CASTLE]
A MOTOR-FLIGHT
THROUGH FRANCE
BY
EDITH WHARTON
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1908
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
Published October, 1908
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
PART I
CHAPTER PAGE
I. BOULOGNE TO AMIENS 1
II. BEAUVAIS AND ROUEN 15
III. FROM ROUEN TO FONTAINEBLEAU 24
IV. THE LOIRE AND THE INDRE 34
V. NOHANT TO CLERMONT 48
VI. IN AUVERGNE 56
VII. ROYAT TO BOURGES 66
PART II
I. PARIS TO POITIERS 73
II. POITIERS TO THE PYRENEES 95
III. THE PYRENEES TO PROVENCE 117
IV. THE RHONE TO THE SEINE 143
PART III
A FLIGHT TO THE NORTH-EAST 172
ILLUSTRATIONS
Chauvigny: Ruins of castle Frontispiece
Facing page
Arras: Hôtel de Ville 2
Amiens: West front of the Cathedral 6
Amiens: Ambulatory of the Cathedral 10
Beauvais: West front of the Cathedral 14
Rouen: Rue de l’Horloge 18
Rouen: The façade of the Church of Saint-Maclou 22
Rouen: Monument of the Cardinals of Amboise in the Cathedral 26
Le Petit Andely: View of the town and Château Gaillard 30
Orléans: General view of the town 38
Nohant: Château of George Sand 42
Nohant: Garden pavilion 44
Clermont-Ferrand: Notre-Dame du Port 50
Orcival: The church 62
Moulins: Place del’Hôtel-de-Ville and the Jacquemart tower 70
Bourges: Apse of the Cathedral 74
Château of Maintenon 76
Neuvy Saint-Sépulcre: Church of the Precious Blood 84
Neuvy Saint-Sépulcre: Interior of the church 88
Poitiers: Baptistery of St. John 90
Poitiers: The Church of Notre-Dame-la-Grande 92
Angoulême: Façade of the Cathedral 96
Thiers: View of the town from the Pont de Seychalles 98
Bordeaux: Church of The Holy Cross 100
Bétharram: The bridge 106
Argelès-Gazost: The old bridge 108
Salies de Béarn: View of old town 110
St. Bertrand-de-Comminges: Pier of the Four Evangelists in the
Cloister 116
Albi: General view of the Cathedral 118
Albi: Interior of the Cathedral 120
Nîmes: The Baths of Diana--public gardens 122
Carcassonne: The Porte de l’Aude 124
Saint-Remy: The Mausoleum 126
St. Maximin: Choir stalls in the church 130
Toulon: The House of Puget 134
Orange: The Arch of Marius 136
Grignan: Gate of the castle 138
Valence: The Cathedral 142
Vienne: General view of the town 146
Brou: Tomb of Margaret of Austria in the church 150
Dijon: Mourners on the tomb of Jean Sans Peur 154
Avallon: General view of the town 158
Vézelay: Narthex of the Church of the Madeleine 160
Sens: Apse of the Cathedral 168
Noyon: Hôtel de Ville 186
St. Quentin: Hôtel de Ville
| 553.05852 | 2,634 |
2023-11-16 18:24:59.8525390
| 4,069 | 46 |
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Beth Trapaga and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
STEPHEN ARCHER AND OTHER TALES
By George Macdonald
CONTENTS.
STEPHEN ARCHER
THE GIFTS OF THE CHILD CHRIST
THE HISTORY OF PHOTOGEN AND NYCTERIS
THE BUTCHER'S BILLS
POET IN A STORM
IF I HAD A FATHER
STEPHEN ARCHER
Stephen Archer was a stationer, bookseller, and newsmonger in one of the
suburbs of London. The newspapers hung in a sort of rack at his door, as
if for the convenience of the public to help themselves in passing. On
his counter lay penny weeklies and books coming out in parts, amongst
which the _Family Herald_ was in force, and the _London Journal_ not
to be found. I had occasion once to try the extent of his stock, for I
required a good many copies of one of Shakspere's plays--at a penny, if
I could find such. He shook his head, and told me he could not encourage
the sale of such productions. This pleased me; for, although it was of
little consequence what he thought concerning Shakspere, it was of the
utmost import that he should prefer principle to pence. So I loitered
in the shop, looking for something to buy; but there was nothing in the
way of literature: his whole stock, as far as I could see, consisted of
little religious volumes of gay binding and inferior print; he had
nothing even from the Halifax press. He was a good-looking fellow, about
thirty, with dark eyes, overhanging brows that indicated thought, mouth
of character, and no smile. I was interested in him.
I asked if he would mind getting the plays I wanted. He said he would
rather not. I bade him good morning.
More than a year after, I saw him again. I had passed his shop many
times, but this morning, I forget why, I went in. I could hardly
recall the former appearance of the man, so was it swallowed up in a
new expression. His face was alive, and his behaviour courteous. A
similar change had passed upon his stock. There was _Punch_ and _Fun_
amongst the papers, and tenpenny Shaksperes on the counter, printed on
straw-paper, with ugly wood-cuts. The former class of publications had
not vanished, but was mingled with cheap editions of some worthy of
being called books.
"I see you have changed your mind since I saw you last," I said.
"You have the advantage of me, sir," he returned. "I did not know you
were a customer."
"Not much of that," I replied; "only in intention. I wanted you to get
me some penny Shaksperes, and you would not take the order."
"Oh! I think I remember," he answered, with just a trace of confusion;
adding, with a smile, "I'm married now;" and I fancied I could read a
sort of triumph over his former self.
I laughed, of course--the best expression of sympathy at hand--and,
after a little talk, left the shop, resolved to look in again soon.
Before a month was over, I had made the acquaintance of his wife too,
and between them learned so much of their history as to be able to
give the following particulars concerning it.
Stephen Archer was one of the deacons, rather a young one perhaps, of
a dissenting congregation. The chapel was one of the oldest in the
neighbourhood, quite triumphant in ugliness, but possessed of a history
which gave it high rank with those who frequented it. The sacred odour
of the names of pastors who had occupied its pulpit, lingered about
its walls--names unknown beyond its precincts, but starry in the eyes
of those whose world lay within its tabernacle. People generally do
not know what a power some of these small _conventicles_ are in the
education of the world. If only as an outlet for the energies of men of
lowly education and position, who in connexion with most of the churches
of the Establishment would find no employment, they are of inestimable
value.
To Stephen Archer, for instance, when I saw him first, his chapel was
the sole door out of the common world into the infinite. When he
entered, as certainly did the awe and the hush of the sacred place
overshadow his spirit as if it had been a gorgeous cathedral-house
borne aloft upon the joined palms of its Gothic arches. The Master is
truer than men think, and the power of His presence, as Browning has
so well set forth in his "Christmas Eve," is where two or three are
gathered in His name. And inasmuch as Stephen was not a man of
imagination, he had the greater need of the undefined influences of
the place.
He had been chief in establishing a small mission amongst the poor in
the neighbourhood, with the working of which he occupied the greater
part of his spare time. I will not venture to assert that his mind was
pure from the ambition of gathering from these to swell the flock at
the little chapel; nay, I will not even assert that there never arose
a suggestion of the enemy that the pence of these rescued brands might
alleviate the burden upon the heads and shoulders of the poorly
prosperous caryatids of his church; but I do say that Stephen was an
honest man in the main, ever ready to grow honester: and who can
demand more?
One evening, as he was putting up the shutters of his window, his
attention was arrested by a shuffling behind him. Glancing round, he
set down the shutter, and the next instant boxed a boy's ears, who ran
away howling and mildly excavating his eyeballs, while a young,
pale-faced woman, with the largest black eyes he had ever seen,
expostulated with him on the proceeding.
"Oh, sir!" she said, "he wasn't troubling you." There was a touch of
indignation in the tone.
"I'm sorry I can't return the compliment," said Stephen, rather
illogically. "If I'd ha' known you liked to have your shins kicked, I
might ha' let the young rascal alone. But you see I didn't know it."
"He's my brother," said the young woman, conclusively.
"The more shame to him," returned Stephen. "If he'd been your husband,
now, there might ha' been more harm than good in interferin', 'cause
he'd only give it you the worse after; but brothers! Well, I'm sure
it's a pity I interfered."
"I don't see the difference," she retorted, still with offence.
"I beg your pardon, then," said Stephen. "I promise you I won't
interfere next time."
So saying, he turned, took up his shutter, and proceeded to close his
shop. The young woman walked on.
Stephen gave an inward growl or two at the depravity of human nature,
and set out to make his usual visits; but before he reached the place,
he had begun to doubt whether the old Adam had not overcome him in the
matter of boxing the boy's ears; and the following interviews appeared
in consequence less satisfactory than usual. Disappointed with
himself, he could not be so hopeful about others.
As he was descending a stair so narrow that it was only just possible
for two people to pass, he met the same young woman ascending. Glad of
the opportunity, he stepped aside with his best manners and said:
"I am sorry I offended you this evening. I did not know that the boy
was your brother."
"Oh, sir!" she returned--for to one in her position, Stephen Archer
was a gentleman: had he not a shop of his own?--"you didn't hurt him
much; only I'm so anxious to save him."
"To be sure," returned Stephen, "that is the one thing needful."
"Yes, sir," she rejoined. "I try hard, but boys will be boys."
"There is but one way, you know," said Stephen, following the words
with a certain formula which I will not repeat.
The girl stared. "I don't know about that," she said. "What I want is
to keep him out of prison. Sometimes I think I shan't be able long.
Oh, sir! if you be the gentleman that goes about here, couldn't you
help me? I can't get anything for him to do, and I can't be at home to
look after him."
"What is he about all day, then?"
"The streets," she answered. "I don't know as he's ever done anything
he oughtn't to, but he came home once in a fright, and that breathless
with running, that I thought he'd ha' fainted. If I only could get him
into a place!"
"Do you live here?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; I do."
At the moment a half-bestial sound below, accompanied by uncertain
footsteps, announced the arrival of a drunken bricklayer.
"There's Joe Bradley," she said, in some alarm. "Come into my room,
sir, till he's gone up; there's no harm in him when he's sober, but he
ain't been sober for a week now."
Stephen obeyed; and she, taking a key from her pocket, and unlocking a
door on the landing, led him into a room to which his back-parlour was
a paradise. She offered him the only chair in the room, and took her
place on the edge of the bed, which showed a clean but much-worn
patchwork quilt. Charley slept on the bed, and she on a shake-down in
the corner. The room was not untidy, though the walls and floor were
not clean; indeed there were not in it articles enough to make it
untidy withal.
"Where do you go on Sundays?" asked Stephen.
"Nowheres. I ain't got nobody," she added, with a smile, "to take me
nowheres."
"What do you do then?"
"I've plenty to do mending of Charley's trousers. You see they're only
shoddy, and as fast as I patch 'em in one place they're out in
another."
"But you oughtn't to work Sundays."
"I have heard tell of people as say you oughtn't to work of a Sunday;
but where's the differ when you've got a brother to look after? He
ain't got no mother."
"But you're breaking the fourth commandment; and you know where people
go that do that. You believe in hell, I suppose."
"I always thought that was a bad word."
"To be sure! But it's where you'll go if you break the Sabbath."
"Oh, sir!" she said, bursting into tears, "I don't care what become of
me if I could only save that boy."
"What do you mean by _saving_ him?"
"Keep him out of prison, to be sure. I shouldn't mind the workus
myself, if I could get him into a place."
_A place_ was her heaven, a prison her hell. Stephen looked at her
more attentively. No one who merely glanced at her could help seeing
her eyes first, and no one who regarded them could help thinking her
nice-looking at least, all in a shabby cotton dress and black shawl as
she was. It was only the "penury and pine" that kept her from being
beautiful. Her features were both regular and delicate, with an
anxious mystery about the thin tremulous lips, and a beseeching look,
like that of an animal, in her fine eyes, hazy with the trouble that
haunted her mouth. Stephen had the good sense not to press the Sabbath
question, and by degrees drew her story from her.
Her father had been a watchmaker, but, giving way to drink, had been,
as far back as she could remember, entirely dependent on her mother,
who by charing and jobbing managed to keep the family alive. Sara was
then the only child, but, within a few months after her father's
death, her mother died in giving birth to the boy. With her last
breath she had commended him to his sister. Sara had brought him
up--how she hardly knew. He had been everything to her. The child that
her mother had given her was all her thought. Those who start with the
idea "that people with nought are naughty," whose eyes are offended by
rags, whose ears cannot distinguish between vulgarity and wickedness,
and who think the first duty is care for self, must be excused from
believing that Sara Coulter passed through all that had been _decreed_
for her without losing her simplicity and purity. But God is in the
back slums as certainly as--perhaps to some eyes more evidently
than--in Belgravia. That which was the burden of her life--namely, the
care of her brother--was her salvation. After hearing her story, which
he had to draw from her, because she had no impulse to talk about
herself, Stephen went home to turn the matter over in his mind.
The next Sunday, after he had had his dinner, he went out into the
same region, and found himself at Sara's door. She was busy over a
garment of Charley's, who was sitting on the bed with half a loaf in
his hand. When he recognized Stephen he jumped down, and would have
rushed from the room; but changing his mind, possibly because of the
condition of his lower limbs, he turned, and springing into the bed,
scrambled under the counterpane, and drew it over his head.
"I am sorry to see you working on Sunday," Stephen said, with an
emphasis that referred to their previous conversation.
"You would not have the boy go naked?" she returned, with again a
touch of indignation. She had been thinking how easily a man of
Stephen's social position could get him a place if he would. Then
recollecting her manners, she added, "I should get him better clothes
if he had a place. Wouldn't you like to get a place now, Charley?"
"Yes," said Charley, from under the counterpane, and began to peep at
the visitor.
He was not an ill-looking boy--only roguish to a degree. His eyes, as
black as his sister's, but only half as big, danced and twinkled with
mischief. Archer would have taken him off to his ragged class, but
even of rags he had not at the moment the complement necessary for
admittance. He left them, therefore, with a few commonplaces of
religious phrase, falling utterly meaningless. But he was not one to
confine his ministrations to words: he was an honest man. Before the
next Sunday it was clear to him that he could do nothing for the soul
of Sara until he had taken the weight of her brother off it.
When he called the next Sunday the same vision precisely met his
view. She might have been sitting there ever since, with those
wonderfully-patched trousers in her hands, and the boy beside her,
gnawing at his lump of bread. But many a long seam had passed
through her fingers since then, for she worked at a clothes-shop all
the week with the sewing-machine, whence arose the possibility of
patching Charley's clothes, for the overseer granted her a cutting
or two now and then.
After a little chat, Stephen put the question:
"If I find a place for Charley, will you go to Providence Chapel next
Sunday?"
"I will go _anywhere_ you please, Mr. Archer," she answered, looking
up quickly with a flushed face. She would have accompanied him to any
casino in London just as readily: her sole thought was to keep Charley
out of prison. Her father had been in prison once; to keep her
mother's child out of prison was the grand object of her life.
"Well," he resumed, with some hesitation, for he had arrived at the
resolution through difficulties, whose fogs yet lingered about him,
"if he will be an honest, careful boy, I will take him myself."
"Charley! Charley!" cried Sara, utterly neglectful of the source of
the benefaction; and rising, she went to the bed and hugged him.
"Don't, Sara!" said Charley, petulantly.
"I don't want girls to squash me. Leave go, I say. You mend my
trousers, and _I_ 'll take care of _my_self."
"The little wretch!" thought Stephen.
Sara returned to her seat, and her needle went almost as fast as her
sewing-machine. A glow had arisen now, and rested on her pale cheek:
Stephen found himself staring at a kind of transfiguration, back from
the ghostly to the human. His admiration extended itself to her deft
and slender fingers and there brooded until his conscience informed
him that he was actually admiring the breaking of the Sabbath;
whereupon he rose. But all the time he was about amongst the rest of
his people, his thoughts kept wandering back to the desolate room, the
thankless boy, and the ministering woman. Before leaving, however, he
had arranged with Sara that she should bring her brother to the shop
the next day.
The awe with which she entered it was not shared by Charley, who was
never ripe for anything but frolic. Had not Stephen been influenced by
a desire to do good, and possibly by another feeling too embryonic for
detection, he would never have dreamed of making an errand boy of a
will-o'-the-wisp. As such, however, he was installed, and from that
moment an anxiety unknown before took possession of Stephen's bosom.
He was never at ease, for he never knew what the boy might be about.
He would have parted with him the first fortnight, but the idea of the
prison had passed from Sara's heart into his, and he saw that to turn
the boy away from his first place would be to accelerate his
gravitation thitherward. He had all the tricks of a newspaper boy
indigenous in him. Repeated were the complaints brought to the shop.
One time the paper was thrown down the area, and brought into the
breakfast-room defiled with wet. At another it was found on the
door-step, without the bell having been rung, which could hardly have
been from forgetfulness, for Charley's delight was to set the bell
ringing furiously, and then wait till the cook appeared, taking good
care however to leave space between them for a start. Sometimes the
paper was
| 553.171949 | 2,635 |
2023-11-16 18:24:59.8652060
| 1,093 | 396 |
Produced by David Edwards, Elisa and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration:
ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE.
THE
AMATEUR
DRAMA.
SEEING
THE ELEPHANT
BOSTON:
GEO. M. BAKER & CO.,
149 Washington Street.
KILBURN & MALLORY, Sr.]
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873 by GEORGE
M. BAKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at
Washington.
SEEING THE ELEPHANT.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
“Sylvia’s Soldier;” “Once on a Time;” “Down by the Sea;” “Bread on the
Waters;” “The Last Loaf;” “Stand by the Flag;” “The Tempter;” “A
Drop Too Much;” “We’re All Teetotallers;” “A Little More Cider;”
“Thirty Minutes for Refreshments;” “Wanted, a Male Cook;” “A
Sea of Troubles;” “Freedom of the Press;” “A Close Shave;”
“The Great Elixir;” “The Man with the Demijohn;” “New
Brooms Sweep Clean;” “Humors of the Strike;” “My
Uncle the Captain;” “The Greatest Plague in Life;”
“No Cure, No Pay;” “The Grecian Bend;” “The
War of the Roses;” “Lightheart’s Pilgrimage;”
“The Sculptor’s Triumph;” “Too Late for
the Train;” “Snow-Bound;” “The
Peddler of Very Nice;” “Bonbons;”
“Capuletta;” “An Original
Idea;” &c.
BOSTON:
GEO. M. BAKER & CO.
149 WASHINGTON STREET.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873,
BY GEORGE M. BAKER,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Stereotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry,
19 Spring Lane.
SEEING THE ELEPHANT
CHARACTERS.
SILAS SOMERBY, a Farmer, occasionally addicted to the bottle.
HARRY HOLDEN, his right-hand Man.
BIAS BLACK, a Teamster.
PAT MURPHY, a Laborer.
JOHNNY SOMERBY, Silas’s Son.
RACHEL SOMERBY, his Wife.
SALLY SOMERBY, his Daughter.
COSTUMES.
SILAS, dark pants, short, thick boots, yellow vest, a towel
pinned about his neck, gray wig, face lathered.
HARRY, gray pants, blue shirt, black neckkerchief, dark coat.
BIAS, thick boots, blue frock, woolly wig, black face, long
whip.
PAT MURPHY, in shirt sleeves, blue overalls, cap, wig.
JOHNNY, close-cut hair, pants of his father’s, rolled up at
bottom, drawn up very high with suspenders, thin coat, short and open,
very broad brimmed straw hat.
RACHEL and SALLY, neat calico dresses.
SCENE.--_Room in SOMERBY’S House. Old-fashioned sofa, R.; table, C.,
laid for breakfast. HARRY seated R. of table, eating; rocking-chair,
R. C. SALLY seated, L., shelling peas or paring apples. Entrances, R.,
L., and C._
_Sally._ (_Singing._)
“Roll on, silver moon,
Guide the traveller his way,
While the nightingale’s song is in tune;
For I never, never more
With my true love shall stray
By the sweet, silver light of the moon.”
_Harry._ Beautiful, beautiful! “There’s music in _that_ air.” Now take
a fresh roll, and keep me company while I take another of your mother’s
delicious fresh rolls.
_Sally._ Making the sixth you have devoured before my eyes!
_Harry._ Exactly. What a tribute to her cooking! She’s the best bred
woman in the country. Her pies are miracles of skill; her rolls are
rolls of honor; her golden butter is so sweet, it makes me sweet upon
her.
_Sally._ Well, I declare, Harry Holden, that’s poetry!
_Harry._ Is it? Then hereafter call me the poet of the breakfast table.
My lay shall be seconded with a fresh egg.
_Sally._ Another? Land sakes! you think of nothing but eating.
_Harry._ Exactly, when I’m hungry. My hunger once appeased, I think of
this good farm--the broad fields, mowing, h
| 553.184616 | 2,636 |
2023-11-16 18:24:59.9106090
| 983 | 400 |
Produced by Joel Erickson, Dave Avis
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
[Illustration: LOUIS DASHED THE GLOWING END OF HIS CIGAR IN THE <DW64>'S
FACE.]
A BEAUTIFUL POSSIBILITY
BY
EDITH FERGUSON BLACK
A BEAUTIFUL POSSIBILITY.
CHAPTER I.
In one of the fairest of the West Indian islands a simple but elegant
villa lifted its gabled roofs amidst a bewildering wealth of tropical
beauty. Brilliant birds flitted among the foliage, gold and silver
fishes darted to and fro in a large stone basin of a fountain which
threw its glittering spray over the lawn in front of the house, and on
the vine-shaded veranda hammocks hung temptingly, and low wicker chairs
invited to repose.
Behind the jalousies of the library the owner of the villa sat at a
desk, busily writing. He was a slight, delicate looking man, with an
expression of careless good humor upon his face and an easy air of
assurance according with the interior of the room which bespoke a
cultured taste and the ability to gratify it. Books were everywhere,
rare bits of china, curios and exquisitely tinted shells lay in
picturesque confusion upon tables and wall brackets of native woods;
soft silken draperies fell from the windows and partially screened from
view a large alcove where microscopes of different sizes stood upon
cabinets whose shelves were filled with a miscellaneous collection of
rare plants and beautiful insects, specimens from the agate forest of
Arizona, petrified remains from the 'Bad Lands' of Dakota, feathery
fronded seaweed, skeletons of birds and strange wild creatures, and all
the countless curiosities in which naturalists delight.
Lenox Hildreth when a young man, forced to flee from the rigors of the
New England climate by reason of an inherited tendency to pulmonary
disease, had chosen Barbadoes as his adopted country, and had never
since revisited the land of his birth. From the first, fortune had
smiled upon him, and when, some time after his marriage with the
daughter of a wealthy planter, she had come into possession of all her
father's estates, he had built the house which for fifteen years he had
called home. When Evadne, their only daughter, was a little maiden of
six, his wife had died, and for nine years father and child had been all
the world to each other.
He finished writing at last with a sigh of relief, and folding the
letter, together with one addressed to Evadne, he enclosed both in a
large envelope which he sealed and addressed to Judge Hildreth,
Marlborough, Mass. Then he leaned back in his chair, and, clasping his
hands behind his head, looked fixedly at the picture of his fair young
wife which hung above his desk.
"A bad job well done, Louise--or a good one. Our little lass isn't very
well adapted to making her way among strangers, and the Bohemianism of
this life is a poor preparation for the heavy respectability of a New
England existence. Lawrence is a good fellow, but that wife of his
always put me in mind of iced champagne, sparkling and cold." He sighed
heavily, "Poor little Vad! It is a dreary outlook, but it seems my one
resource. Lawrence is the only relative I have in the world.
"After all, I may be fighting windmills, and years hence may laugh at
this morning's work as an example of the folly of yielding to
unnecessary alarm. Danvers is getting childish. All physicians get to be
old fogies, I fancy, a natural sequence to a life spent in hunting down
germs I suppose. They grow to imagine them where none exist."
He rose, and strolled out on the veranda. As he did so, a <DW64>, whose
snow-white hair had earned for him from his master the sobriquet of
Methusaleh, came towards the broad front steps. He was a grotesque image
as he stood doffing a large palm-leaf hat, and Lenox Hildreth felt an
irresistible inclination to laugh, and laughed accordingly. His
morning's occupation had been one of the rare instances in which he had
run counter to his inclinations. Sky blue cotton trousers showed two
brown ankles before his feet hid themselves in a pair of clumsy shoes; a
| 553.230019 | 2,637 |
2023-11-16 18:25:00.0119440
| 1,314 | 152 |
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Christine P. Travers and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, all
other inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling has
been maintained.]
[Illustration: _The Signatories to the Peace Treaty on behalf of the South
African Republic._]
[Illustration: _The Signatories to the Peace Treaty on behalf of the
Orange Free State._]
ARMY HEADQUARTERS, SOUTH AFRICA.
PRETORIA. 4th March, 1902.
Your Honour,
By direction of His Majesty's Government, I have the honour to forward
enclosed copy of an Aide-Memoire communicated by the Netherland Minister
to the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, together with his reply
thereto.
I have the honour to be,
Your Honour's Obedient Servant,
[Signature of Kitchener.]
General.
Commanding-in-Chief, South Africa.
To
His Honour,
Mr. Schalk Burger.
_Facsimile of the letter from Lord Kitchener upon which the Peace
Negotiations were entered into._
THE PEACE NEGOTIATIONS
_Between the Governments of the South African Republic
and the Orange Free State, and the Representatives
of the British Government, which terminated
in the Peace concluded at Vereeniging
on the 31st May, 1902_
BY
REV. J. D. KESTELL
_Secretary to the Orange Free State Government_
AND
D. E. VAN VELDEN
_Secretary to the Government of the South African Republic_
TRANSLATED AND PUBLISHED BY
D. E. VAN VELDEN
_WITH PHOTOS AND FACSIMILES OF ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS_
LONDON
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LTD., BRUNSWICK STREET, S.E.
1912
RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED
BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E., AND
BUNGAY SUFFOLK
CONTENTS
Page
PREFACE ix
Introduction by S. W. Burger, M.L.A., Acting State President
of the Late South African Republic xiii
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE xix
CHAPTER I
Preliminary Correspondence 1
CHAPTER II
Proceedings at Klerksdorp 18
CHAPTER III
First Negotiations at Pretoria 33
CHAPTER IV
Vereeniging 46
CHAPTER V
Further Negotiations at Pretoria 98
CHAPTER VI
Vereeniging and Peace 138
APPENDIX--The Middelburg Proposals 210
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
The Signatories to the Peace Treaty on behalf of the South
African Republic. _Frontispiece_
The Signatories to the Peace Treaty on behalf of the Orange Free
State. _Frontispiece_
Facsimile of the letter from Lord Kitchener upon which
the Peace Negotiations were entered into _Facing Title page_
_Facing page_
Facsimile of the copy of the reply from the Government
of the South African Republic to Lord Kitchener's letter
dated 4th March, 1902 6
Facsimile of Safe Conduct granted by Lord Kitchener 44
Facsimile of the Oath subscribed to at Vereeniging by
the Delegates of the South African Republic 46
Facsimile of the Oath subscribed to at Vereeniging by
the Delegates of the Orange Free State 46
Facsimile of a page of the Peace Proposals as submitted by the
British Representatives and amended by the Boer Representatives.
The alterations are in the handwriting of Generals Smuts and
Hertzog 112
Facsimile of a page of the Peace Proposals as submitted
by the British Representatives and amended by the Boer
Representatives. The alterations are in the handwriting of
General Smuts and Mr. Advocate N. J. de Wet 117
Facsimile of the original proposal by Commandant H. P. J.
Pretorius, seconded by General Chris. Botha, to accept the
British Peace Proposals 202
Facsimile of the document on which the voting on the proposal
by Commandant H. P. J. Pretorius, seconded by General Chris.
Botha, to accept the British Peace Proposals was recorded 206
PREFACE
The want has been repeatedly expressed of an official publication of
the Minutes of the Negotiations which led to the Peace concluded at
Vereeniging on May 31, 1902, events which have hitherto been a closed
page in the history of the Boer War. As the Republics had ceased to
exist, the question arose: Who could publish such Minutes? It is true
that some very incomplete Minutes appeared in General de Wet's book,
but although they were in all probability reliable, yet they had not
the seal of an official document.
The only way in which the want could be met appeared to be for the
Secretaries, who had been appointed by the two Republican Governments
to minute the Negotiations, to publish those Minutes after they had
been read and approved of as authentic by persons competent to do so.
This is what has been done by this publication, which places the
reader in possession of all the correspondence leading up to the
Negotiations, exact reports of what was said and done, not only at
Vereeniging, but also previously at Klerksdorp, and, finally, all the
Negotiations which took place at Pretoria between the two Republican
Governments and the British Government, represented by Lord Kitchener
| 553.331354 | 2,638 |
2023-11-16 18:25:00.3144300
| 1,015 | 458 |
Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration: image of the book's cover]
MEMORIES OF A
MUSICAL LIFE
[Illustration: WILLIAM MASON IN 1899]
Memories of a
Musical Life
by
William Mason
[Illustration: colophon]
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
MCMII
Copyright, 1900, 1901, by
THE CENTURY CO.
_Published October, 1901._
THE DEVINE PRESS.
TO
MY DAUGHTER
MINA MASON VAN SINDEREN
AT WHOSE REQUEST
THESE MEMORIES
HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
CONTENTS
PAGE
EARLY DAYS IN NEW ENGLAND 3
Lowell Mason's Career 7
First Beethoven Symphony in America 8
Musical Conventions 9
Early Musical Training 10
Webster and Clay 11
First Public Appearance 18
Leopold de Meyer 19
"Father Heinrich" 22
An Embarrassing Experience 25
STUDENT LIFE ABROAD 27
Meeting with Meyerbeer 28
Liszt's Feat of Memory 31
First Meeting with Liszt 33
Arrival at Leipsic 34
Moscheles, Beethoven, and Chopin 36
The Intimacy of Moscheles and Mendelssohn 37
Schumann 38
Schumann's "Symphony No. 1, B Flat" 39
Schumann's Absent-mindedness 42
Moritz Hauptmann 44
A Visit to Wagner 48
Wagner on Mendelssohn and Beethoven 51
A Wagner Autograph 55
Moscheles 57
Joseph Joachim 62
Schumann's "Concerto in A Minor" 63
Carl Mayer 65
Dreyschock 66
Prince de Rohan's Dinner 71
Chopin, Henselt, and Thalberg 75
Anton Schindler, "Ami de Beethoven" 79
Schindler and Schnyder von Wartensee 82
First London Concert 84
WITH LISZT IN WEIMAR 86
Accepted by Liszt 88
The Altenburg 93
How Liszt Taught 97
"Play It Like This" 99
Liszt in 1854 101
His Fascination 102
Liszt's Indignation 103
Objects to my Eye-glasses 106
A Musical Breakfast 108
Liszt's Playing 110
Liszt and Pixis 117
Liszt Conducting 119
Liszt's Symphonic Poems--Rehearsing "Tasso" 121
Extracts from a Diary 122
Opportunities 126
Brahms in 1853 127
Nervous before Liszt 128
Dozing while Liszt Played 129
"Lohengrin" for the First Time in Leipsic 132
In Stuttgart--Hotel Marquand 135
The Schumann "Feier" in Bonn, 1880 136
Brahms's Pianoforte-playing 137
A Historical Error Corrected 141
More about Liszt's Wonderful Sight-reading 142
Liszt's Moments of Contrition 144
Peter Cornelius 145
Some Famous Violinists 147
Remenyi 151
Some Distinguished Opera-singers 153
Henriette Sontag 154
Johanna Wagner 156
Mme. de la Grange 157
"Der Verein der Murls" 158
The Wagner Cause in Weimar 159
Raff in Weimar 161
Dr. Adolf Bernhard Marx 165
Berlioz in Weimar 168
Entertaining Liszt's "Young Beethoven" 171
Rubinstein's Opposition to Wagner 174
AT WORK IN AMERICA 183
Touring
| 553.63384 | 2,639 |
2023-11-16 18:25:00.3800320
| 1,152 | 395 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
PORT ARGENT
A Novel
By Arthur Colton
With a Frontispiece by Eliot Keen
New York
Henry Holt And Company
1904
[Ill 0001]
[Ill 0010]
[Ill 0011]
IN MEMORIAM
C. W. WELLS
DEDICATED
TO
GEORGE COLTON
863714
PORT ARGENT
CHAPTER I--PULSES
|PORT ARGENT is a city lying by a brown navigable river that gives it
a waterway to the trade of the Lakes. No one knows why it grew there,
instead of elsewhere on the banks of the Muscadine, with higher land and
better convenience. One dim-eyed event leaped on the back of another,
and the city grew.
In the Senate Chamber where accidents and natural laws meet in Executive
Session or Committee of the Whole, and log-roll bills, there are no
“press galleries,” nor any that are “open to the public.” Inferences
have been drawn concerning its submerged politics, stakes laid on
its issues, and lobbying attempted. What are its parties, its
sub-committees? Does an administrative providence ever veto its bills,
or effectively pardon the transgressors of any statute?
Fifty years ago the Honourable Henry Champney expected that the acres
back of his large square house, on Lower Bank Street by the river, would
grow in value, and that their growing values would maintain, or help
to maintain, his position in the community, and show the over-powers to
favour integrity and Whig principles. But the city grew eastward instead
into the half-cleared forest, and the sons of small farmers in that
direction are now the wealthy citizens. The increment of the small
farmers and the decrement of Henry Champney are called by social
speculators “unearned,” implying that this kind of attempt to lobby a
session of accidents and natural laws is, in general, futile.
Still, the acres are mainly built over. The Champney house stands back
of a generous lawn with accurate paths. Trolley cars pass the front edge
of the lawn. Beyond the street and the trolleys and sidewalks comes the
bluff. Under the bluff is the tumult of the P. and N. freight-yards. But
people in Port Argent have forgotten what Whig principles were composed
of.
There in his square-cupolaed house, some years ago, lived Henry Champney
with his sister, Miss Eunice, and his daughter, Camilla. Camilla was
born to him in his middle life, and through her eyes he was beginning,
late in his old age, to look curiously at the affairs of a new
generation.
Wave after wave these generations follow each other. The forces of
Champney's generation were mainly spent, its noisy questions and answers
subsiding. It pleased him that he was able to take interest in the
breakers that rolled over their retreat. He wondered at the growth of
Port Argent.
The growth of Port Argent had the marks of that irregular and corrupt
legislation of destiny. It had not grown like an architect-builded
house, according to orderly plans. If some thoughtful observer had come
to it once every decade of its seventy years, it might have seemed to
his mind not so much a mechanic result of men's labours as something
living and personal, a creature with blood flowing daily through
arteries and veins (trolley cars being devices to assist the flow),
with brains working in a thousand cells, and a heart beating foolish
emotions. He would note at one decade how it had thrown bridges across
the river, steeples and elevator-buildings into the air, with sudden
throbs of energy; had gathered a bundle of railroads and a row
of factories under one arm, and was imitating speech through a
half-articulate daily press; at another decade, it would seem to have
slept; at another, it had run asphalt pavements out into the country,
after whose enticing the houses had not followed, and along its busiest
streets were hollow, weed-grown lots. On the whole, Port Argent would
seem masculine rather than feminine, reckless, knowing not form or
order, given to growing pains, boyish notions, ungainly gestures,
changes of energy and sloth, high hope and sudden moodiness.
The thoughtful observer of decades, seeing these signs of eccentric
character, would feel curious to understand it from within, to enter its
streets, offices, and homes, to question and listen, to watch the civic
heart beat and brain conceive.
One April afternoon, some decades ago, such an observer happened by and
found gangs of men tearing up Lower Bank Street.
Lower Bank Street was higher than Bank Street proper, but it was down
the river, and in Port Argent people seldom cared whether anything
fitted anything else.
Bank Street proper was the main business street beside the river. Fifty
years before, in forecasting the future city, one would have pictured
Lower Bank Street as an avenue where wealth and dignity would take
its pleasure; so had Henry Champney pictured it at that time; but
the improvident foreigner lived along it largely, and possessed Port
Argent's one prospect, the brown-flowing river with its ships. Most of
the buildings were small houses
| 553.699442 | 2,640 |
2023-11-16 18:25:00.3895100
| 12 | 113 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Greg Berg
| 553.70892 | 2,641 |
2023-11-16 18:25:00.4663440
| 1,125 | 468 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net. (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)
THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE
[Illustration: _Frontispiece._
GROUP OF BEECHES, BURNHAM. _Page 167._]
THE
BEAUTIES OF NATURE
AND THE
WONDERS OF THE WORLD
WE LIVE IN
BY
THE RIGHT HON.
SIR JOHN LUBBOCK, BART., M.P.
F.R.S., D.C.L., LL.D.
New York
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND LONDON
1892
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1892,
BY MACMILLAN AND CO.
TYPOGRAPHY BY J. S. CUSHING & CO., BOSTON, U.S.A.
PRESSWORK BY BERWICK & SMITH, BOSTON, U.S.A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
Beauty and Happiness 3
The Love of Nature 5
Enjoyment of Scenery 14
Scenery of England 19
Foreign Scenery 21
The Aurora 33
The Seasons 34
CHAPTER II
ON ANIMAL LIFE 39
Love of Animals 41
Growth and Metamorphoses 43
Rudimentary Organs 45
Modifications 48
Colour 50
Communities of Animals 57
Ants 58
CHAPTER III
ON ANIMAL LIFE--_continued_ 71
Freedom of Animals 73
Sleep 78
Senses 84
Sense of Direction 93
Number of Species 96
Importance of the Smaller Animals 97
Size of Animals 100
Complexity of Animal Structure 101
Length of Life 102
On Individuality 104
Animal Immortality 112
CHAPTER IV
ON PLANT LIFE 115
Structure of Flowers 128
Insects and Flowers 134
Past History of Flowers 136
Fruits and Seeds 137
Leaves 138
Aquatic Plants 144
On Hairs 148
Influence of Soil 151
On Seedlings 152
Sleep of Plants 152
Behaviour of Leaves in Rain 155
Mimicry 156
Ants and Plants 156
Insectivorous Plants 158
Movements of Plants 159
Imperfection of our Knowledge 163
CHAPTER V
WOODS AND FIELDS 165
Fairy Land 172
Tropical Forests 179
Structure of Trees 185
Ages of Trees 188
Meadows 192
Downs 194
CHAPTER VI
MOUNTAINS 201
Alpine Flowers 205
Mountain Scenery 206
The Afterglow 213
The Origin of Mountains 214
Glaciers 227
Swiss Mountains 232
Volcanoes 236
Origin of Volcanoes 243
CHAPTER VII
WATER 249
Rivers and Witchcraft 251
Water Plants 252
Water Animals 253
Origin of Rivers 255
The Course of Rivers 256
Deltas 272
CHAPTER VIII
RIVERS AND LAKES 277
On the Directions of Rivers 279
The Conflicts and Adventures of Rivers 301
On Lakes 312
On the Configuration of Valleys 323
CHAPTER IX
THE SEA 335
The Sea Coast 337
Sea Life 344
The Ocean Depths 351
Coral Islands 358
The Southern Skies 365
The Poles 367
CHAPTER X
THE STARRY HEAVENS 373
The Moon 377
The Sun 382
The Planets 387
Mercury 388
Venus 390
The Earth 391
Mars 392
The Minor Planets 393
Jupiter 394
Saturn 395
Uranus 396
Neptune 397
Origin of the Planetary System 398
Comets 401
Shooting Stars 406
The Stars 410
Nebulae 425
ILLUSTRATIONS
FIG. PAGE
1. Larva of Choerocampa porcellus 53
2. Bougainvillea fruticosa; natural size. (After Allman) 107
3. Do. do. magnified 108
4. Do. do. Medusa-form 109
5. Medusa aurita, and progressive stages of development.
(After Steenstrup) 110
6. White Dead-nettle 124
7. Do. 125
8. Do. 125
9. Salvia 127
10. Do. 127
11. Do. 127
12.
| 553.785754 | 2,642 |
2023-11-16 18:25:00.6172060
| 1,024 | 410 |
Produced by Roger Frank, David Edwards and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: OCCASIONALLY A DARTING AIRPLANE ATTRACTED HER TO THE
WINDOW.]
Ruth Fielding
In the Red Cross
OR
DOING HER BEST FOR
UNCLE SAM
BY
ALICE B. EMERSON
Author of "Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill,"
"Ruth Fielding in the Saddle," Etc.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Books for Girls
BY ALICE B. EMERSON
RUTH FIELDING SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
Price per volume, 50 cents, postpaid.
RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL
RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL
RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP
RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT
RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH
RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND
RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM
RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES
RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES
RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE
RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE
RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE
RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS
RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT
Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York.
Copyright, 1918, by
Cupples & Leon Company
Ruth Fielding in the Red Cross
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Uncle Jabez Is Excited 1
II. The Call of the Drum 9
III. The Woman in Black 17
IV. "Can a Poilu Love a Fat Girl?" 25
V. "The Boys of the Draft" 34
VI. The Patriotism of the Purse 39
VII. On the Way 49
VIII. The Nearest Duty 56
IX. Tom Sails, and Something Else Happens 64
X. Suspicions 75
XI. Said in German 81
XII. Through Dangerous Waters 90
XIII. The New Chief 99
XIV. A Change of Base 107
XV. New Work 118
XVI. The Days Roll By 127
XVII. At the Gateway of the Chateau 133
XVIII. Shocking News 141
XIX. At the Wayside Cross 149
XX. Many Things Happen 156
XXI. Again the Werwolf 165
XXII. The Countess and Her Dog 175
XXIII. Ruth Does Her Duty 180
XXIV. A Partial Exposure 191
XXV. Quite Satisfactory 197
RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS
CHAPTER I--UNCLE JABEZ IS EXCITED
"Oh! Not _Tom_?"
Ruth Fielding looked up from the box she was packing for the local Red
Cross chapter, and, almost horrified, gazed into the black eyes of the
girl who confronted her.
Helen Cameron's face was tragic in its expression. She had been crying.
The closely written sheets of the letter in her hand were shaken, as
were her shoulders, with the sobs she tried to suppress.
"It--it's written to father," Helen said. "He gave it to me to read. I
wish Tom had never gone to Harvard. Those boys there are completely
crazy! To think--at the end of his freshman year--to throw it all up and
go to a training camp!"
"I guess Harvard isn't to blame," said Ruth practically. If she was
deeply moved by what her chum had told her, she quickly recovered her
self-control. "The boys are going from other colleges all over the land.
Is Tom going to try for a commission?"
"Yes."
"What does your father say?"
"Why," cried the other girl as though that, too, had surprised and hurt
her, "father cried 'Bully for Tom!' and then wiped his eyes on his
handkerchief. What can men be made of, Ruth? He knows Tom may be killed,
and yet he cheers for him."
Ruth Fielding
| 553.936616 | 2,643 |
2023-11-16 18:25:00.6669770
| 1,571 | 89 |
***
[1844 Title Page]
The Pencil of Nature
H. Fox Talbot
Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, London
1844
CONTENTS
Introductory Remarks
Brief Historical Sketch of the Invention of the Art
PLATE I. PART OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD.
PLATE II. VIEW OF THE BOULEVARDS AT PARIS.
PLATE III. ARTICLES OF CHINA.
PLATE IV. ARTICLES OF GLASS.
PLATE V. BUST OF PATROCLUS.
PLATE VI. THE OPEN DOOR.
PLATE VII. LEAF OF A PLANT.
PLATE VIII. A SCENE IN A LIBRARY.
PLATE IX. FAC-SIMILE OF AN OLD PRINTED PAGE.
PLATE X. THE HAYSTACK.
PLATE XI. COPY OF A LITHOGRAPHIC PRINT.
PLATE XII. THE BRIDGE OF ORLEANS.
PLATE XIII. QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD.
PLATE XIV. THE LADDER.
PLATE XV. LACOCK ABBEY IN WILTSHIRE.
PLATE XVI. CLOISTERS OF LACOCK ABBEY.
PLATE XVII. BUST OF PATROCLUS.
PLATE XVIII. GATE OF CHRISTCHURCH.
PLATE XIX. THE TOWER OF LACOCK ABBEY
PLATE XX. LACE
PLATE XXI. THE MARTYRS' MONUMENT
PLATE XXII. WESTMINSTER ABBEY
PLATE XXIII. HAGAR IN THE DESERT.
PLATE XXIV. A FRUIT PIECE.
ILLUSTRATIONS
PLATE I. PART OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD.
PLATE II. VIEW OF THE BOULEVARDS AT PARIS.
PLATE III. ARTICLES OF CHINA.
PLATE IV. ARTICLES OF GLASS.
PLATE V. BUST OF PATROCLUS.
PLATE VI. THE OPEN DOOR.
PLATE VII. LEAF OF A PLANT.
PLATE VIII. A SCENE IN A LIBRARY.
PLATE IX. FAC-SIMILE OF AN OLD PRINTED PAGE.
PLATE X. THE HAYSTACK.
PLATE XI. COPY OF A LITHOGRAPHIC PRINT.
PLATE XII. THE BRIDGE OF ORLEANS.
PLATE XIII. QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD, Entrance Gateway
PLATE XIV. THE LADDER.
PLATE XV. LACOCK ABBEY IN WILTSHIRE.
PLATE XVI. CLOISTERS OF LACOCK ABBEY.
PLATE XVII. BUST OF PATROCLUS.
PLATE XVIII. GATE OF CHRISTCHURCH.
PLATE XIX. THE TOWER OF LACOCK ABBEY
PLATE XX. LACE
PLATE XXI. THE MARTYRS' MONUMENT
PLATE XXII. WESTMINSTER ABBEY
PLATE XXIII. HAGAR IN THE DESERT.
PLATE XXIV. A FRUIT PIECE.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
The little work now presented to the Public is the first attempt to
publish a series of plates or pictures wholly executed by the new art of
Photogenic Drawing, without any aid whatever from the artist's pencil.
The term "Photography" is now so well known, that an explanation of it is
perhaps superfluous; yet, as some persons may still be unacquainted with
the art, even by name, its discovery being still of very recent date, a
few words may be looked for of general explanation.
It may suffice, then, to say, that the plates of this work have been
obtained by the mere action of Light upon sensitive paper. They have been
formed or depicted by optical and chemical means alone, and without the
aid of any one acquainted with the art of drawing. It is needless,
therefore, to say that they differ in all respects, and as widely us
possible, in their origin, from plates of the ordinary kind, which owe
their existence to the united skill of the Artist and the Engraver.
They are impressed by Nature's hand; and what they want as yet of delicacy
and finish of execution arises chiefly from our want of sufficient
knowledge of her laws. When we have learnt more, by experience,
respecting the formation of such pictures, they will doubtless be brought
much nearer to perfection; and though we may not be able to conjecture
with any certainty what rank they may hereafter attain to as pictorial
productions, they will surely find their own sphere of utility, both for
completeness of detail and correctness of perspective.
The Author of the present work having been so fortunate as to discover,
about ten years ago, the principles and practice of Photogenic Drawing, is
desirous that the first specimen of an Art, likely in all probability to
be much employed in future, should be published in the country where it
was first discovered. And he makes no doubt that his countrymen will deem
such an intention sufficiently laudable to induce them to excuse the
imperfections necessarily incident to a first attempt to exhibit an Art of
so great singularity, which employs processes entirely new, and having no
analogy to any thing in use before. That such imperfections will occur in
a first essay, must indeed be expected. At present the Art can hardly be
said to have advanced beyond its infancy--at any rate, it is yet in a very
early stage--and its practice is often impeded by doubts and difficulties,
which, with increasing knowledge, will diminish and disappear. Its
progress will be more rapid when more minds are devoted to its
improvement, and when more of skilful manual assistance is employed in the
manipulation of its delicate processes; the paucity of which skilled
assistance at the present moment the Author finds one of the chief
difficulties in his way.
BRIEF HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE INVENTION OF THE ART
It may be proper to preface these specimens of a new Art by a brief
account of the circumstances which preceded and led to the discovery of
it. And these were nearly as follows.
One of the first days of the month of October 1833, I was amusing myself
on the lovely shores of the Lake of Como, in Italy, taking sketches with
Wollaston's Camera Lucida, or rather I should say, attempting to take
them: but with the smallest possible amount of success. For when the eye
was removed from the prism--in which all looked beautiful--I found that the
faithless pencil had only left traces on the paper melancholy to behold.
After various fruitless attempts, I laid aside the instrument and came to
the conclusion, that its use required a previous knowledge of drawing,
which unfortunately I did not possess.
I then thought of trying again a method which I had tried many years
before. This method was, to take a Camera Obscura, and to throw the image
of the objects on a piece of transparent tracing paper laid on a pane of
glass in the focus of the instrument. On this paper the objects are
distinctly seen, and can be traced on it with a pencil with some degree of
| 553.986387 | 2,644 |
2023-11-16 18:25:00.6989660
| 376 | 91 |
3)***
E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has the other two volumes of this
novel.
Volume I: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35428
Volume II: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35429
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/charmingfellow03trol
A CHARMING FELLOW.
by
FRANCES ELEANOR TROLLOPE,
Author of "Aunt Margaret's Trouble," "Mabel's Progress," etc. etc.
In Three Volumes.
VOL. III.
London:
Chapman and Hall, 193, Piccadilly.
1876.
Charles Dickens and Evans,
Crystal Palace Press.
A CHARMING FELLOW.
CHAPTER I.
There was a "scene" that evening at Ivy Lodge--not the less a "scene" in
that it was conducted on genteel methods. Mrs. Algernon Errington
inflicted on her husband during dinner a recapitulation of all her
wrongs and injuries which could be covertly hinted at. She would not
broadly speak out her meaning before "the servants." The phrase shaped
itself thus in her mind from old habit. But in truth "the servants" were
represented by one plump-faced damsel in a yellow print gown, into which
her person seemed to have been inserted in the same way that bran is
inserted into the cover of a p
| 554.018376 | 2,645 |
2023-11-16 18:25:01.0760850
| 1,049 | 411 |
Produced by Demian Katz and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy
of the Digital Library@Villanova University
(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/))
[Illustration: AS HERC TURNED, HE WAS CERTAIN THAT HE HAD SEEN A FACE
VANISH QUICKLY FROM THE CASEMENT.
--Page 62.
]
THE
DREADNOUGHT BOYS
ON AERO SERVICE
BY
CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON
AUTHOR OF "THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON BATTLE PRACTICE," "THE
DREADNOUGHT BOYS ABOARD A DESTROYER," "THE DREADNOUGHT
BOYS ON A SUBMARINE," ETC.
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1912,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. SOMETHING NEW IN NAVAL LIFE 5
II. "IF HE'S A MAN, HE'LL STAND UP" 17
III. FOR THE TROPHY OF THE FLEET 30
IV. THE AERO SQUAD 39
V. UNCLE SAM'S MEN-BIRDS 50
VI. NED INVENTS SOMETHING 59
VII. A RESCUE BY AEROPLANE 73
VIII. HERC GETS A "TALKING TO" 84
IX. A CONSPIRACY IS RIPENING 93
X. A DREADNOUGHT BOY AT BAY 103
XI. IN THEIR ENEMIES' HANDS 113
XII. "STOP WHERE YOU ARE!" 123
XIII. HARMLESS AS A RATTLESNAKE 136
XIV. FLYING FOR A RECORD 148
XV. A DROP FROM SPACE 156
XVI. THE SETTING OF A TRAP 167
XVII. THE SPRINGING THEREOF 178
XVIII. ON BOARD THE SLOOP 190
XIX. "BY WIRELESS!" 200
XX. NED, CAST AWAY 213
XXI. A STRIKE FOR UNCLE SAM 223
XXII. SOME ADVENTURES BY THE WAY 233
XXIII. "YOU ARE A PRISONER OF THE GOVERNMENT!" 243
XXIV. A DASH FOR FREEDOM 255
XXV. THE MYSTERIOUS SCHOONER--CONCLUSION 267
The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service
CHAPTER I.
SOMETHING NEW IN NAVAL LIFE.
One breezy day in early June, when a fresh wind off shore was whipping
the water into sparkling white caps, excitement and comment fairly
hummed about the crowded foredecks of the big Dreadnought _Manhattan_.
The formidable looking sea-fighter lay with half a dozen other smaller
naval vessels--battleships and cruisers--in the stretch of water known
as Hampton Roads, which, sheltered by rising ground, has, from time
immemorial, formed an anchorage for our fighting-ships, and is as rich
in historical associations as any strip of sea within the jurisdiction
of the United States.
The cause of all the turmoil, which was agitating every jackie on the
vessel, was a notice which had been posted on the ship's bulletin board
that morning.
It was tacked up in the midst of notices of band concerts, challenges
to boxing matches, lost or found articles, and the like. At first
it had not attracted much attention. But soon one jackie, and then
another, had scanned it till, by means of the thought-wireless, which
prevails on a man-of-war, the whole fore part of the ship was now
vibrant and buzzing with the intelligence.
The notice which had excited so much attention read as follows:
"Enlisted Men and Petty Officers: You are instructed to send your
volunteer applications for positions in the experimental Aero squad.
All applications to be made in writing to Lieutenant De Frees in charge
of the experiment station."
"Aero service, eh?" grunted more than one grizzled old shell-back,
"well, I've served my time in many an old sea-going hooker, but hanged
if I'd venture my precious skin on board a sky-clipper."
"Aye, aye, mate. Let the youngsters risk their lily-white necks if they
want to," formed the burden of the growled responses, "but you and me
'ull smoke Uncle Sam's baccy, and
| 554.395495 | 2,646 |
2023-11-16 18:25:01.3818400
| 1,139 | 50 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe,
Cathy Maxam, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration:
_Engd by H. B. Hall_
(signature O. B. Frothingham)
G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York.]
TRANSCENDENTALISM
IN
NEW ENGLAND
_A HISTORY_
BY
OCTAVIUS BROOKS FROTHINGHAM
_Author of "Life of Theodore Parker," "Religion of Humanity," &c., &c._
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
182 FIFTH AVENUE
1876
COPYRIGHT,
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS.
1876.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CONTENTS iii
PREFACE v
I.
BEGINNINGS IN GERMANY 1
II.
TRANSCENDENTALISM IN GERMANY--KANT, JACOBI, FICHTE, etc. 14
III.
THEOLOGY AND LITERATURE--SCHLEIERMACHER, GOETHE, RICHTER, etc. 47
IV.
TRANSCENDENTALISM IN FRANCE--COUSIN, CONSTANT, JOUFFROY, etc. 60
V.
TRANSCENDENTALISM IN ENGLAND--COLERIDGE, CARLYLE, WORDSWORTH 76
VI.
TRANSCENDENTALISM IN NEW ENGLAND 105
VII.
PRACTICAL TENDENCIES 142
VIII.
RELIGIOUS TENDENCIES 185
IX.
THE SEER--EMERSON 218
X.
THE MYSTIC--ALCOTT 249
XI.
THE CRITIC--MARGARET FULLER 284
XII.
THE PREACHER--THEODORE PARKER 302
XIII.
THE MAN OF LETTERS--GEORGE RIPLEY 322
XIV.
MINOR PROPHETS 335
XV.
LITERATURE 357
PREFACE.
While we are gathering up for exhibition before other nations, the
results of a century of American life, with a purpose to show the issues
thus far of our experiment in free institutions, it is fitting that some
report should be made of the influences that have shaped the national
mind, and determined in any important degree or respect its intellectual
and moral character. A well-considered account of these influences would
be of very great value to the student of history, the statesman and
philosopher, not merely as throwing light on our own social problem, but
as illustrating the general law of human progress. This book is offered
as a modest contribution to that knowledge.
Transcendentalism, as it is called, the transcendental movement, was an
important factor in American life. Though local in activity, limited in
scope, brief in duration, engaging but a comparatively small number of
individuals, and passing over the upper regions of the mind, it left a
broad and deep trace on ideas and institutions. It affected thinkers,
swayed politicians, guided moralists, inspired philanthropists, created
reformers. The moral enthusiasm of the last generation, which broke out
with such prodigious power in the holy war against slavery; which
uttered such earnest protests against capital punishment, and the wrongs
inflicted on women; which made such passionate pleading in behalf of the
weak, the injured, the disfranchised of every race and condition; which
exalted humanity above institutions, and proclaimed the inherent worth
of man,--owed, in larger measure than is suspected, its glow and force
to the Transcendentalists. This, as a fact of history, must be admitted,
as well by those who judge the movement unfavorably, as by its friends.
In the view of history, which is concerned with causes and effects in
their large human relations, individual opinions on them are of small
moment. It was once the fashion--and still in some quarters it is the
fashion--to laugh at Transcendentalism as an incomprehensible folly, and
to call Transcendentalists visionaries. To admit that they were, would
not alter the fact that they exerted an influence on their generation.
It is usual with critics of a cold, unsympathetic, cynical cast, to
speak of Transcendentalism as a form of sentimentality, and of
Transcendentalists as sentimentalists; to decry enthusiasm, and
deprecate the mischievous effects of feeling on the discussion of social
questions. But their disapproval, however just and wholesome, does not
abolish the trace which moral enthusiasm, under whatever name these
judges may please to put upon it, has left on the social life of the
people. Whether the impression was for evil or for good, it is there,
and equally significant for warning or for commendation.
As a form of mental philosophy Transcendentalism
| 554.70125 | 2,647 |
2023-11-16 18:25:02.5898060
| 2,464 | 78 |
Produced by Adrian Mastronardi, Martin Mayer, The Philatelic
Digital Library Project at http://www.tpdlp.net and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[A transcriber's note follows the text.]
THE BRITISH STATE
TELEGRAPHS
[Illustration: MacMillan Company logo]
THE BRITISH STATE
TELEGRAPHS
A STUDY OF THE PROBLEM OF A LARGE BODY OF
CIVIL SERVANTS IN A DEMOCRACY
BY
HUGO RICHARD MEYER
SOMETIME ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL ECONOMY IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO, AUTHOR OF "GOVERNMENT
REGULATION OF RAILWAY RATES;" "MUNICIPAL
OWNERSHIP IN GREAT BRITAIN"
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1907
_All right reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1907
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Set up and electrotyped. Published October 1907
THE MASON-HENRY PRESS
SYRACUSE, NEW YORK
TO MY BROTHER
PREFACE
In order to keep within reasonable limits the size of this volume, the
author has been obliged to reserve for a separate volume the story of
the Telephone in Great Britain. The series of books promised in the
Preface to the author's _Municipal Ownership in Great Britain_ will,
therefore, number not four, but five.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION 3
Scope of the inquiry.
CHAPTER II
THE ARGUMENT FOR THE NATIONALIZATION OF THE TELEGRAPHS 13
The indictment of the telegraph companies. The argument
from foreign experience. The promise of reduced tariffs
and increased facilities. The alleged financial success of
foreign State telegraphs: Belgium, Switzerland and France. The
argument from English company experience.
CHAPTER III
THE ALLEGED BREAK-DOWN OF LAISSEZ-FAIRE 36
Early history of telegraphy in Great Britain. The adequacy of
private enterprise. Mr. Scudamore's loose use of statistics.
Mr. Scudamore's test of adequacy of facilities. Telegraphic
charges and growth of traffic in Great Britain. The alleged
wastefulness of competition. The telegraph companies' proposal.
CHAPTER IV
THE PURCHASE OF THE TELEGRAPHS 57
Upon inadequate consideration the Disraeli Ministry estimates
at $15,000,000 to $20,000,000 the cost of nationalization.
Political expediency responsible for Government's inadequate
investigation. The Government raises its estimate to
$30,000,000; adding that it could afford to pay $40,000,000
to $50,000,000. Mr. Goschen, M. P., and Mr. Leeman, M. P.,
warn the House of Commons against the Government's estimates,
which had been prepared by Mr. Scudamore. The Gladstone
Ministry, relying on Mr. Scudamore, estimates at $3,500,000
the "reversionary rights" of the railway companies, for which
rights the State ultimately paid $10,000,000 to $11,000,000.
CHAPTER V
NONE OF MR. SCUDAMORE'S FINANCIAL FORECASTS WERE REALIZED 77
The completion of the telegraph system costs $8,500,000;
Mr. Scudamore's successive estimates had been respectively
$1,000,000 and $1,500,000. Mr. Scudamore's brilliant forecast
of the increase of traffic under public ownership. Mr.
Scudamore's appalling blunder in predicting that the State
telegraphs would be self-supporting. Operating expenses on the
average exceed 92.5% of the gross earnings, in contrast to
Mr. Scudamore's estimate of 51% to 56%. The annual telegraph
deficits aggregate 26.5% of the capital invested in the plant.
The financial failure of the State telegraphs is not due to
the large price paid to the telegraph companies and railway
companies. The disillusionment of an eminent advocate of
nationalization, Mr. W. Stanley Jevons.
CHAPTER VI
THE PARTY LEADERS IGNORE THEIR FEAR OF AN ORGANIZED CIVIL
SERVICE 94
Mr. Disraeli, Chancellor of the Exchequer, opposes the
enfranchisement of the civil servants. Mr. Gladstone, Leader
of the Opposition, assents to enfranchisement, but expresses
grave apprehensions of evil results.
CHAPTER VII
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE FINANCIAL FAILURE OF
THE STATE TELEGRAPHS 99
Sir S. Northcote, Chancellor of the Exchequer in Mr.
Disraeli's Ministry of 1874 to 1880, is disillusioned. The
State telegraphs become self-supporting in 1879-80. The House
of Commons, under the leadership of Dr. Cameron, M. P., for
Glasgow, overrides the Ministry and cuts the tariff almost in
two. In 1890-91 the State telegraphs would again have become
self-supporting, had not the House of Commons, under pressure
from the civil service unions, increased wages and salaries.
The necessity of making money is the only effective incentive
to sound management.
CHAPTER VIII
THE STATE TELEGRAPHS SUBSIDIZE THE NEWSPAPER PRESS 113
Why the newspaper press demanded nationalization. Mr.
Scudamore gives the newspaper press a tariff which he deems
unprofitable. Estimates of the loss involved in transmitting
press messages, made by responsible persons in the period from
1876 to 1900. The State telegraphs subsidize betting on horse
races.
CHAPTER IX
THE POST OFFICE EMPLOYEES PRESS THE HOUSE OF COMMONS FOR INCREASES
OF WAGES AND SALARIES 127
British Government's policy as to wages and salaries for
routine work, as distinguished from work requiring a high
order of intelligence. The Fawcett revision of wages, 1881.
Lord Frederick Cavendish, Financial Secretary to the Treasury,
on pressure exerted on Members of Parliament by the telegraph
employees. Sir S. A. Blackwood, Permanent Secretary to the
Post Office, on the Fawcett revision of 1881. Evidence as to
civil servants' pressure on Members of Parliament presented
to the Royal Commission on Civil Establishments, 1888. The
Raikes revision of 1890-91; based largely on the Report of the
Committee on the Indoor Staff, which Committee had recommended
increases in order "to end agitation." The Earl Compton, M.
P., champions the cause of the postal employees in 1890; and
moves for a Select Committee in 1891. Sir James Fergusson,
Postmaster General in the Salisbury Ministry, issues an
order against Post Office servants "endeavoring to extract
promises from any candidate for election to the House of
Commons with reference to their pay or duties." The Gladstone
Ministry rescinds Sir James Fergusson's order. Mr. Macdonald's
Motion, in 1893, for a House of Commons Select Committee. Mr.
Kearley's Motion, in 1895. The Government compromises, and
appoints the so-called Tweedmouth Inter-Departmental Committee.
CHAPTER X
THE TWEEDMOUTH COMMITTEE REPORT 165
The Government accepts all recommendations made by the
Committee. Sir Albert K. Rollit, one of the principal
champions in the House of Commons of the postal employees,
immediately follows with a Motion "intended to reflect
upon the Report of the Tweedmouth Committee." Mr. Hanbury,
Financial Secretary to the Treasury, intimates that it
may become necessary to disfranchise the civil servants.
The Treasury accepts the recommendations of the so-called
Norfolk-Hanbury Committee. The average of expenses on account
of wages and salaries rises from 11.54 cents per telegram
in 1895-96, to 13.02 cents in 1902-03, concomitantly with
an increase in the number of telegrams from 79,423,000 to
92,471,000.
CHAPTER XI
THE POST OFFICE EMPLOYEES CONTINUE TO PRESS THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
FOR INCREASES OF WAGES AND SALARIES 182
The Post Office employees demand "a new judgment on the
old facts." Mr. S. Woods' Motion, in February, 1898. Mr.
Steadman's Motions in February and June, 1899. Mr. Hanbury,
Financial Secretary to the Treasury, points out that the
postal employees are demanding a House of Commons Select
Committee because under such a Committee "the agitation and
pressure, now distributed over the whole House, would be
focussed and concentrated upon the Select Committee." Mr.
Steadman's Motion, in April, 1900. Mr. Bayley's Motion, in
June, 1901. Mr. Balfour, Prime Minister, confesses that the
debate has filled him "with considerable anxiety as to the
future of the public service if pressure of the kind which
has been put upon the Government to-night is persisted in
by the House." Captain Norton's Motion, in April, 1902. The
Government compromises by appointing the Bradford Committee
of business men. Mr. Austen Chamberlain, Postmaster General,
states that Members from both sides of the House "seek from
him, in his position as Postmaster General, protection for
them in the discharge of their public duties against the
pressure sought to be put upon them by employees of the Post
Office." He adds: "Even if the machinery by which our Select
Committees are appointed were such as would enable us to
secure a Select Committee composed of thoroughly impartial
men who had committed themselves by no expression of opinion,
I still think that it would not be fair to pick out fifteen
Members of this House and make them marked men for the purpose
of such pressure as is now distributed more or less over the
whole Assembly."
CHAPTER XII
THE BRADFORD COMMITTEE REPORT 214
The Bradford Committee ignores its reference. It recommends
measures that would cost $6,500,000 a year, in the hope of
satisfying the postal employees, who had asked for $12,500,000
a year. Lord Stanley, Postmaster General, rejects the Bradford
Committee's Report; but grants increases in wages aggregating
$1,861,500 a year.
CHAPTER
| 555.909216 | 2,648 |
2023-11-16 18:25:02.7476110
| 977 | 411 |
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jana Srna and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
[ Transcriber's Notes:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
as possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation.
Some corrections of spelling and punctuation have been made. They
are listed at the end of the text.
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
]
CHECKMATE
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
GUY DEVERELL
ALL IN THE DARK
THE WYVERN MYSTERY
THE COCK AND ANCHOR
WYLDER'S HAND
THE WATCHER
CHECKMATE
ROSE AND THE KEY
TENANTS OF MALLORY
WILLING TO DIE
GOLDEN FRIARS
THE EVIL GUEST
Checkmate
BY
J. S. LE FANU
Downey & Co.
12 York St.
Covent Garden.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. MORTLAKE HALL, 1
II. MARTHA TANSEY, 7
III. MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART, 13
IV. MONSIEUR LEBAS, 17
V. A CATASTROPHE, 22
VI. TO BED, 26
VII. FAST FRIENDS, 31
VIII. CONCERNING A BOOT, 38
IX. THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME, 43
X. THE ROYAL OAK, 48
XI. THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES, 55
XII. SIR REGINALD ARDEN, 62
XIII. ON THE ROAD, 68
XIV. MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM, 72
XV. FATHER AND SON, 79
XVI. A MIDNIGHT MEETING, 84
XVII. MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL, 91
XVIII. THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM, 96
XIX. IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM, 103
XX. MRS. TANSEY'S STORY, 108
XXI. A WALK BY MOONLIGHT, 115
XXII. MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE, 120
XXIII. THE MEETING, 125
XXIV. MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW, 129
XXV. A TETE-A-TETE, 133
XXVI. THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE, 137
XXVII. WINGED WORDS, 141
XXVIII. STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE, 147
XXIX. THE GARDEN PARTY, 153
XXX. HE SEES HER, 158
XXXI. ABOUT THE GROUNDS, 161
XXXII. UNDER THE LIME-TREES, 167
XXXIII. THE DERBY, 171
XXXIV. A SHARP COLLOQUY, 174
XXXV. DINNER AT MORTLAKE, 179
XXXVI. MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE, 183
XXXVII. WHAT ALICE COULD SAY, 188
XXXVIII. GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE, 192
XXXIX. BETWEEN FRIENDS, 196
XL. AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY, 199
XLI. VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST, 203
XLII. DIPLOMACY, 206
XLIII. A LETTER AND A SUMMONS, 209
XLIV. THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE, 213
XLV. COLLISION, 219
XLVI. AN UNKNOWN FRIEND, 224
XLVII. BY THE R
| 556.067021 | 2,649 |
2023-11-16 18:25:03.2422580
| 1,076 | 375 |
Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE UNSPEAKABLE TURK.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE STATUS QUO.
TURKEY. "WILL YOU NOT STILL BEFRIEND ME?"
BRITANNIA. "BEFRIEND YOU?--NOT WITH YOUR HANDS OF _THAT COLOUR_!"
_September 9, 1876._]
England indignantly protests against the atrocities committed by the
Turk in Bulgaria.
* * * * *
"PUNCH" OFFICE, 10 BOUVERIE STREET, LONDON, E.C.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ONE BUBBLE MORE!!
_January 6, 1877._]
The Turk, once again, makes illusory promises of Reform.
* * * * *
[Illustration: EVERYBODY'S FRIEND!
_March 2, 1878._]
During the Russo-Turkish War a strict neutrality is preserved by
Germany. She is now the "friend" of the Turk.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SUBLIME "SUPER"!
(REHEARSAL OF GRAND MILITARY DRAMA.)
STAGE MANAGER. "WHAT ARE _YOU_ TO DO, SIR? WHY, GET WELL TO THE BACK,
AND--_WAVE YOUR BANNER_!!!"
_September 16, 1882._]
The Turk makes a great show of denouncing the revolt of Arabi in Egypt.
He is not taken very seriously.
* * * * *
[Illustration: COOPED UP!
_October 26, 1889._]
The Powers, despite the protests of Greece, leave it to the Turk to
restore order in the Island of Crete.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "DEEDS--NOT WORDS!"
JOHN BULL. "LOOK HERE,--WE'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR PALAVER! ARE YOU GOING
TO LET THE GIRL GO, OR HAVE WE GOT TO MAKE YOU?"
_June 15, 1895._]
The barbarous treatment of Armenia by the Turk compels the intervention
of England, France and Russia.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A FREE HAND.
THE UNSPEAKABLE TURK. "HA, HA. THERE'S NO ONE ABOUT! I CAN GET TO
BUSINESS AGAIN."]
_January 18, 1896._]
While England is absorbed elsewhere the Turk takes the opportunity to
commit further outrages in Armenia.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A TURKISH BATH.
SULTAN. "THEY GAVE IT ME PRETTY HOT IN THAT ARMENIAN ROOM!
BUT--BISMILLAH! THIS IS----PHEW!!"]
_August 22, 1896._]
A very "sick man" is the Turk. He goes from bad to worse.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "TURKEY LIMITED."
SULTAN. "MAKE ME INTO A LIMITED COMPANY? H'M--AH--S'POSE THEY'LL ALLOW
ME TO JOIN THE BOARD AFTER ALLOTMENT!"
_November 28, 1896._]
The Powers consider the advisability of placing the Turk "under
control."
* * * * *
[Illustration: TENDER MERCIES!
DAME EUROPA (_to_ LITTLE CRETE). "DON'T CRY, MY LITTLE MAN. I'VE ASKED
THIS NICE, KIND TURKISH POLICEMAN TO STAY AND TAKE CARE OF YOU!"
_March 13, 1897._]
The Turk is given another chance to mend his ways.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SLAVE OF DUTY!
ADMIRAL JOHN BULL. "NOW THEN, OUT YOU'LL HAVE TO GO!"
THE UNSPEAKABLE. "WHAT! LEAVE MY BEAUTIFUL CRETE IN A STATE OF DISORDER?
_NEVER!_"
_September 24, 1898._]
The incorrigible Turk is deprived of his power to misrule in Crete. He
is consoled by Germany.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE MITYLENE MARCH.
(SOLO FOR THE FRENCH HORN.)
THE SULTAN. "I DON'T LIKE SOLOS! GIVE ME THE GOOD OLD-FASHIONED EUROPEAN
CONCERTO!"
_November 13, 1901._]
France sends a fleet to Mitylene and compels the Turk to respect the
rights of certain French subjects.
* * *
| 556.561668 | 2,650 |
2023-11-16 18:25:03.5170570
| 1,131 | 413 |
Produced by Ernest Schaal and The Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
CAMPOBELLO
* * * * *
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH
BY
KATE GANNETT WELLS
For those who are desirous of exact knowledge concerning the "Story
of the Boundary Line," and the political history of Eastport and its
vicinity, there is no more comprehensive work than that by William Henry
Kilby, Esq., entitled, "Eastport and Passamaquoddy." To him, and also to
two friends who kindly gave me the names of a few of the Island flowers,
do I express my gratitude.
Campobello.
THE mysterious charms of ancestry and yellow parchment, of petitions to
the admiralty and royal grants of land, of wild scenery and feudal
loyalty, of rough living and knightly etiquette, have long clustered
round a little island off the coast of Maine, called on the charts
Passamaquoddy Outer Island, but better known under the more pleasing
name of Campobello.
=Its Discovery.= It belongs to the region first discovered by the
French, who, under Sieur De Monts, in the spring of 1604, sailed along
the shores of Nova Scotia, and gave the name of Isle of Margos (magpies)
to the four perilous islands now called The Wolves; beheld Manthane (now
Grand Manan); sailed up the St. Croix; and established themselves on one
of its islands, which they called the Isle of St. Croix. The severity of
the winter drove them in the following summer to Annapolis, and for more
than a hundred and fifty years little was known of this part of the
country, though the River St. Croix first formed the boundary between
Acadia and New England, and later the boundary between the Provinces of
Nova Scotia and Massachusetts Bay.
Campobello itself could scarcely be said to have a history till towards
the end of the eighteenth century. Moose roamed over the swamps and
looked down from the bold headlands; Indians crossed from the mainland
and shot them; straggling Frenchmen, dressing in skins, built huts along
the northern and southern shores, till civilization dawned through the
squatter sovereignty of two men, Hunt and Flagg. They planted the apple
trees whose gnarled branches still remain to tell of the winter storms
that howled across the plains, and converted the moose-yards into a
field of oats, for the wary, frightened animals vacated their hereditary
land in favor of these usurpers. Their mercantile skill taught them how
to use, for purposes of trade rather than for private consumption, the
shoals of fish which it was firmly believed Providence sent into the
bay.
=Post Office.= There were not enough inhabitants to justify the
maintenance of a post office till 1795; then the mails came once in two
weeks. Lewis Frederic Delesdernier was the resonant, high sounding name
of the first postmaster who lived at Flagg's Point (the Narrows). But
when a post office was opened in Eastport, in 1805, this little Island
one was abandoned, or rather it dwindled out of existence before the
larger one established by Admiral Owen at Welsh Pool.
=Welsh Pool.= The Narrows, because of its close proximity to the
mainland, was a favorite place of abode in those early days. Yet Friar's
Bay, two miles to the north, was a safe place for boats in easterly
storms; and thus, before the advent of the Owens, a hamlet had clustered
around what is now called Welsh Pool. A Mr. Curry was the pioneer. The
house opposite the upper entrance to the Owen domain was called Curry
House until it became "the parsonage," a name abandoned when the present
rectory was built. Curry traded with the West Indies, and owned, it is
said, two brigs and a bark.
People also gathered at the upper end of the Island, Wilson's Beach, and
on the road between Sarawac and Conroy's Bridge, where there were
several log houses.
=Garrison's Grandparents.= That some kind of a magistrate or minister
even then was on the Island is attested by the fact that William Lloyd
Garrison's grandparents, Andrew Lloyd and Mary Lawless, chanced to come
to Nova Scotia on the same ship from Ireland, and were married to each
other "the day after they had landed at Campobello, March 30, 1771."
Lloyd became a commissioned pilot at Quoddy, and died in 1813. His wife
was the first person buried in Deer Island. Their daughter Fanny was
Garrison's mother.
Many of the early inhabitants were Tories from New York. Some were of
Scotch origin, especially those who lived on the North Road.
=Captain Storrow.= Among these settlers was a young British officer,
Captain Thomas Storrow, who, while he was prisoner of war, fell in love
with Ann Appleton, a young girl of
| 556.836467 | 2,651 |
2023-11-16 18:25:03.8911220
| 1,008 | 446 |
VOL. 93. SEPTEMBER 17, 1887***
E-text prepared by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer, 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 33717-h.htm or 33717-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33717/33717-h/33717-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33717/33717-h.zip)
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOLUME 93.
SEPTEMBER 17, 1887.
* * * * *
OUR IGNOBLE SELVES.
(_Lament by a Reader of "Letters to the Papers."_)
[Illustration]
OH! bless us and save us! Like men to behave us
We Britons once held it our glory;
Now Party bids fair to befool and enslave us.
We're lost between Liberal and Tory!
Some quidnunc inditeth a letter to GLADSTONE,
The style of it, "Stand and deliver!"
Its speech may be rude, and its tone quite a cad's tone,
Its logic may make a man shiver.
_Au contraire_ it _may_ be most lucid and modest,
In taste and in pertinence equal
(Though such a conjunction would be of the oddest),
But what, anyhow, is the sequel?
Rad papers _all_ cry, "We've once more before us
An instance of folly inrushing."
Whilst _all_ the Conservative Journals in chorus
Declare "it is perfectly crushing!"
"Little Pedlington's" snubbed by the Liberal Press,
And urged such fool tricks to abandon.
Cry Tories, "I guess the Old Man's in a mess,
He hasn't a leg left to stand on!"
Oh! save us and bless us! The shirt of old Nessus,
Was not such a snare to the hero,
As poisonous faction. Crass fools we confess us,
With sense and with spirit at zero.
If thus we comport us like blind sprawling kittens,
Or pitiful partisan poodles,
'Twill prove Party makes e'en of freeminded Britons,
A race of incontinent noodles!
* * * * *
"TO TEAPOT BAY AND BACK."
LONDONERS who like but are weary of the attractions of Eastend-on-Mud,
and want a change, can scarcely do better than spend twenty-four hours
in that rising watering-place Teapot Bay. I say advisedly "rising,"
because the operation has been going on for more than forty years. In
these very pages a description of the "juvenile town," appeared nearly
half a century ago. Then it was said that the place was "so infantine
that many of the houses were not out of their scaffold-poles, whilst
others had not yet cut their windows," and the place has been growing
ever since--but very gradually. The "ground plan of the High Street" of
those days would still be useful as a guide, although it is only fair to
say that several of the fields then occupied by cabbages are now to some
extent covered with empty villas labelled "To Let." In the past the High
Street was intersected by roads described as "a street, half houses,
half potatoes," "a street apparently doing a good stroke of business,"
"a street, but no houses," "a street indigent, but houseless," "a street
which appears to have been nipped in the kitchens," "a street thickly
populated with three inhabitants," and last but not least, "a street in
such a flourishing condition that it has started a boarding-house and
seminary." The present condition of Teapot Bay is much the same--the
roads running between two lines of cellars (contributions to houses that
have yet to be built) are numerous and testify to good intentions never
fulfilled. There is the same meaningless tower with a small illuminated
clock at the top of it, and if the pier is not quite so long as it was
thirty or forty years ago, it still seems to be occupying the same site.
[Illustration: Cheap and Picturesque Roots for Tourists.]
The means of getting to Teapot Bay is by railway. Although no doubt
numbered amongst the cheap and picturesque routes for tourists, the
place is apparently considered by the authorities as more or less of a
joke. Margate, Ramsgate, Westgate and Broad
| 557.210532 | 2,652 |
2023-11-16 18:25:03.8977780
| 1,353 | 182 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS
[Illustration: THE SOUTHERN CROSS BATTLE FLAG DESIGNED BY GEN. JOSEPH E.
JOHNSTON.
THE STARS AND BARS.
FLAG ADOPTED BY THE CONFEDERATE CONGRESS IN 1863.
BATTLE FLAG ADOPTED BY THE CONFEDERATE CONGRESS IN 1863.]
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS.
Camp-Fire, PATRIOTIC and Sentimental.
COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY W. L. FAGAN
_ILLUSTRATED._
New York
M. T. RICHARDSON & CO.
1890.
COPYRIGHTED BY
M. T. RICHARDSON.
1889.
_PREFACE._
_The war songs of the South are a part of the history of the Lost Cause.
They are necessary to the impartial historian in forming a correct
estimate of the animus of the Southern people._
_Emotional literature is always a correct exponent of public sentiment,
and these songs index the passionate sincerity of the South at the time
they were written._
_Poetic merit is not claimed for all of them; still each one embodies
either a fact or a principle. Written in an era of war, when the public
mind was thoroughly aroused, some may now appear harsh and vindictive.
Eight millions of people read and sang them. This fact alone warrants
their collection and preservation._
_A greater number of the songs have been gathered from Southern
newspapers. The task has been laborious, but still a labor of love, as no
work of this kind has before been offered to the public._
_Thanks are due Mr. Henri Wehrman, of New Orleans, for permission to use
valuable copyrights, also to the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston; A. E.
Blackmar, New Orleans; and J. C. Schreiner, Savannah, Ga. Mr. G. N.
Galloway, Philadelphia, has given material assistance._
_The work is not complete, still the compiler claims for it the largest
and only collection of Confederate songs published._
_W. L. FAGAN._
_Havana, Ala., December 1, 1889._
LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.
_Page_
"_A flash from the edge of a hostile trench_," 351
"_And his life-blood is ebbing and splashing_," 64
"_Arise to thy lattice, the moon is asleep_," 173
"_Come back to me, my darling son, and light my life again_," 257
_Confederate note_, 371
"_Farewell to earth and all its beauteous bloom_," 161
"_For I know there is no other e'er can be so dear to me_," 297
_General J. E. B. Stuart_, 331
_General Lee_, 97
"_He faintly smiled and waved his hand_," 235
"_He's in the saddle now_," 201
"_* * * How mellow the light showers down on that brow_," 117
"_I am thinking of the soldier as the evening shadows fall_," 183
"_I'm a good old rebel_," 361
"_I marched up midout fear_," 11
"_Jack Morgan_," 282
"_Knitting for the soldiers! matron--merry maid_," 54
"_Knitting for the soldiers! wrinkled--aged crone_," 53
"_Lady, I go to fight for thee_," 151
"_Lying in the shadow, underneath the trees_," 75
"_Massa_," 216
"_Massa run, aha_," 217
"_My right arm bared for fiercer play_," 139
"_No matter should it rain or snow, That bugler is bound
to blow_," 23
"_Only a list of the wounded and dead_," 87
"_So we'll bury 'old Logan' to-night_," 127
"_The Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star_," 32
"_The hero boy lay dying_," 107
"_Then gallop by ravine and rocks_," 316
"_There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread_," 63
"_Though fifteen summers scarce have shed their blossoms on
thy brow_," 256
"_Three acres I_," 43
"_Thy steed is impatient his mistress to bear_," 172
"_We'll one day meet again_," 44
"_When the stars are softly smiling * * * Then I think of
thee and Heaven_," 299
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS.
GOD SAVE THE SOUTH.[1]
_National Hymn._
Words by GEORGE H. MILES; Music by C. W. A. ELLERBROCK; Permission of A.
E. BLACKMAR.
[The music of this song can be procured of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston,
Mass, owner of the copyright.]
God save the South,
God save the South,
Her altars and firesides,
God save the South,
Now that the war is nigh,
Chanting our battle-cry
Freedom or death.
CHORUS--Now that the war is nigh,
Now that we arm to die,
Chanting the battle cry,
Freedom or death.
God be our shield,
At home or afield,
Stretch thine arm over us,
Strengthen and save.
What tho' they're three to one,
Forward each sire and son,
Strike till the war is won,
Strike to the grave.
CHORUS
| 557.217188 | 2,653 |
2023-11-16 18:25:04.3633700
| 730 | 42 |
Produced by David Edwards, David Garcia and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
A PICKLE FOR THE KNOWING ONES,
BY LORD TIMOTHY DEXTER,
WITH AN
Introductory Preface,
BY A DISTINGUISHED CITIZEN OF "OULD NEWBERRY."
FOURTH EDITION.
NEWBURYPORT:
BLANCHARD & SARGENT.
1848.
[Illustration: Lord Dexter and his Dog.]
PREFACE.
Timothy Dexter, the author of the following curious and unique production,
entitled "_A Pickle for the Knowing Ones_," which is here re-printed
verbatim et spellatim from the original edition, was born in Malden,
January 22, 1747. Having served an apprenticeship with a leather dresser,
he commenced business in Newburyport shortly after he was one and
twenty, and being industrious and economical, he soon found himself
in good circumstances. In the year 1770 he married, and receiving a
considerable amount of money with his wife, he was thus put in possession
of a moderate fortune. In 1776 he had for one of his apprentices the
no less eccentric, and afterwards the no less noted Jonathan Plumer,
jun., "travelling preacher, physician and poet," as he was accustomed
to style himself, and of whom we shall hereafter speak. In addition to
his regular business of selling leather breeches, gloves "soutabel for
wimen's ware," &c. he engaged in commercial speculations, and in various
kinds of business, and was unusually successful. He traded with merchants
and speculators in the then Province of Maine, was engaged to some extent
in the West India trade. He also purchased a large amount of what were
called State securities, which were eventually redeemed at prices far
exceeding their original cost. Some of his speculations in whalebone
and warming pans are mentioned by himself on page 23 of this work. Thus
in various ways he added to his property, and in a few years he became
a wealthy man. With wealth came the desire of distinction, and as his
vanity was inordinate he spared no expence in obtaining the notoriety he
sought. In the first place he purchased an elegant house in High Street,
Newburyport, and embellished it in his peculiar way. Minarets surmounted
with golden balls were placed on the roof, a large gilt eagle was placed
on the top, and a great variety of other ornaments. In front of his house
and land he caused to be erected between forty and fifty wooden statues,
full length and larger than life. The principal arch stood directly in
front of his door, and on this stood the figures of Washington, Adams
and Jefferson. There were also the statues of William Pitt, Franklin,
Bonaparte, George IV, Lord Nelson, Gen. Morgan, Cornplanter, an Indian
Chief, Jack Tar, Traveling Preacher, Maternal Affection, Two Grenadiers,
Four Lions and one Lamb, and conspicuous among them were two images of
Dexter himself, one of which held a label with the inscription "_I am the
first in the East, the first in the West, and the greatest philosopher
in the Western world_." In order that the interior
| 557.68278 | 2,654 |
2023-11-16 18:25:04.3930000
| 1,240 | 398 |
Produced by David Reed and David Widger
DEMOCRACY IN AMERICA
By Alexis De Tocqueville
Translated by Henry Reeve
Book Two: Influence Of Democracy On Progress Of Opinion In
the United States.
De Tocqueville's Preface To The Second Part
The Americans live in a democratic state of society, which has naturally
suggested to them certain laws and a certain political character. This
same state of society has, moreover, engendered amongst them a
multitude of feelings and opinions which were unknown amongst the elder
aristocratic communities of Europe: it has destroyed or modified all the
relations which before existed, and established others of a novel kind.
The--aspect of civil society has been no less affected by these changes
than that of the political world. The former subject has been treated
of in the work on the Democracy of America, which I published five years
ago; to examine the latter is the object of the present book; but these
two parts complete each other, and form one and the same work.
I must at once warn the reader against an error which would be extremely
prejudicial to me. When he finds that I attribute so many different
consequences to the principle of equality, he may thence infer that I
consider that principle to be the sole cause of all that takes place in
the present age: but this would be to impute to me a very narrow view. A
multitude of opinions, feelings, and propensities are now in existence,
which owe their origin to circumstances unconnected with or even
contrary to the principle of equality. Thus if I were to select the
United States as an example, I could easily prove that the nature of the
country, the origin of its inhabitants, the religion of its founders,
their acquired knowledge, and their former habits, have exercised, and
still exercise, independently of democracy, a vast influence upon the
thoughts and feelings of that people. Different causes, but no less
distinct from the circumstance of the equality of conditions, might be
traced in Europe, and would explain a great portion of the occurrences
taking place amongst us.
I acknowledge the existence of all these different causes, and their
power, but my subject does not lead me to treat of them. I have not
undertaken to unfold the reason of all our inclinations and all our
notions: my only object is to show in what respects the principle of
equality has modified both the former and the latter.
Some readers may perhaps be astonished that--firmly persuaded as I
am that the democratic revolution which we are witnessing is an
irresistible fact against which it would be neither desirable nor wise
to struggle--I should often have had occasion in this book to address
language of such severity to those democratic communities which this
revolution has brought into being. My answer is simply, that it is
because I am not an adversary of democracy, that I have sought to speak
of democracy in all sincerity.
Men will not accept truth at the hands of their enemies, and truth is
seldom offered to them by their friends: for this reason I have spoken
it. I was persuaded that many would take upon themselves to announce the
new blessings which the principle of equality promises to mankind, but
that few would dare to point out from afar the dangers with which
it threatens them. To those perils therefore I have turned my chief
attention, and believing that I had discovered them clearly, I have not
had the cowardice to leave them untold.
I trust that my readers will find in this Second Part that impartiality
which seems to have been remarked in the former work. Placed as I am in
the midst of the conflicting opinions between which we are divided,
I have endeavored to suppress within me for a time the favorable
sympathies or the adverse emotions with which each of them inspires
me. If those who read this book can find a single sentence intended to
flatter any of the great parties which have agitated my country, or any
of those petty factions which now harass and weaken it, let such readers
raise their voices to accuse me.
The subject I have sought to embrace is immense, for it includes the
greater part of the feelings and opinions to which the new state of
society has given birth. Such a subject is doubtless above my strength,
and in treating it I have not succeeded in satisfying myself. But, if
I have not been able to reach the goal which I had in view, my readers
will at least do me the justice to acknowledge that I have conceived and
followed up my undertaking in a spirit not unworthy of success.
A. De T.
March, 1840
Section I: Influence of Democracy on the Action of Intellect in The
United States.
Chapter I: Philosophical Method Among the Americans
I think that in no country in the civilized world is less attention
paid to philosophy than in the United States. The Americans have no
philosophical school of their own; and they care but little for all
the schools into which Europe is divided, the very names of which are
scarcely known to them. Nevertheless it is easy to perceive that almost
all the inhabitants of the United States conduct their understanding in
the same manner, and govern it by the same rules; that is to say,
that without ever having taken the trouble to define the rules of a
philosophical method, they are in possession of one, common to the whole
people. To evade the bondage of system and habit, of family maxims,
class opinions, and, in some degree, of national prejudices; to accept
tradition only as a means of information, and existing facts only as a
lesson used in doing otherwise, and doing better; to seek the reason
of things for one's self, and in one's self alone; to tend to results
without being bound
| 557.71241 | 2,655 |
2023-11-16 18:25:04.6859510
| 398 | 105 |
Produced by Martin Ward
Weymouth New Testament in Modern Speech
Preface and Introductions
Third Edition 1913
Public Domain--Copy Freely
These files were produced by keying for use in the Online Bible.
Proofreading was performed by Earl Melton. The printed edition
used in creating this etext was the Kregal reprint of the Ernest
Hampden-Cook (1912) Third Edition, of the edition first published
in 1909 by J. Clarke, London. Kregal edition ISBN 0-8254-4025-4.
Due to the plans to add the Weymouth footnotes, the footnote
markers have been left in the text and page break indicators.
Other special markings are words surrounded with "*" to indicate
emphasis, and phrases surrounded with "<>" to indicate bold OT
quotes. See WEYMOUTH.INT in WNTINT.ZIP for the introduction
to the text, and information on Weymouth's techniques.
The most current corrected files can be found on:
Bible Foundation BBS
602-789-7040 (14.4 kbs)
If any errors are found, please notify me at the above bbs,
or at:
Mark Fuller
1129 E. Loyola Dr.
Tempe, Az. 85282
(602) 829-8542
----------- Corrections to the printed page ---------------------
Introduction says personal pronouns referring to Jesus, when spoken
by other than the author/narrator, are capitalized only when they
recognize His deity. The following oversights in the third edition
were corrected in subsequent editions. Therefore we feel justified
in correcting them in this computer version.
Mt 22:16 Capitalized 'him'. Same person speaking as in v.15.
Mt 27:54 Capitalized 'he'.
Joh
| 558.005361 | 2,656 |
2023-11-16 18:25:05.2747970
| 1,386 | 125 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY GEO. NICHOLS, EARL'S COURT,
LEICESTER SQUARE.
[Illustration: FLY FISHING]
PATRONISED BY H.R.H. PRINCE ALBERT.
[Illustration]
BLACKER'S, ART OF FLY MAKING, &c.,
COMPRISING ANGLING,
& DYEING OF COLOURS,
WITH ENGRAVINGS
OF SALMON & TROUT FLIES
SHEWING THE PROCESS
OF THE GENTLE CRAFT
AS TAUGHT IN
THE PAGES.
* * * * *
WITH DESCRIPTIONS OF
FLIES FOR THE SEASON
OF THE YEAR
AS THEY COME OUT
ON THE WATER.
REWRITTEN & REVISED
BY THE AUTHOR
BLACKER, HIMSELF,
FISHING TACKLE MAKER
OF 54, DEAN ST, SOHO,
LONDON.
1855.
CONTENTS.
Page.
Preface v
The Art of Fly Making 1
An Easy Method to make the Trout Fly 3
An Easy Method of making a Plain Salmon Fly 8
To make the Trout Fly, in the best and most approved method 13
To make the Palmer, or Double-Hackle Fly 20
How to make the Salmon Fly, as shown in the Beautiful Plate
of Engravings on Salmon Hooks 23
Process of making the Gaudy Salmon Fly 30
To make the Winged Larva 42
A Catechism of Fly-Making 46
The Trout Flies for the Season 55
Flies for March 57
Flies for April 60
Flies for May 64
Flies for June 69
Flies for July 72
Flies for August 76
Fishing Rods and Fly Fishing 80
Fly Fishing for Salmon 88
An Account of the Salmon, and its Varieties 96
The Salmon Fry 100
A Description of the Fifteen Salmon Flies Engraved in the
Plates 104
Spring Flies 117
Salmon Rivers 120
The River Tweed 121
The River Shannon 123
The Lakes of Clare 124
The Lakes of Killarney 126
Lough Curran, Waterville 133
Connamara and Ballynahinch 138
Ballyna 142
Ballyshannon 145
The Rivers Bush and Bann 149
The River Bann 156
Lakes of Westmeath 163
The River Lee, at Cork 169
Salmon Rivers in Scotland 170
The River Tay 171
The Dee and Don 176
The River Spey 177
The Findhorn 179
Rivers and Lakes adjacent to Fort William, on the
Caledonian Canal 180
Salmon Flies for Fort William, &c. 186
Salmon Flies for the Ness 187
The River Shin 189
The River Thurso 191
The River Esk 194
Loch Leven 195
The River Allan 196
Loch Awe and River 200
The Rivers Irvine, Girvan, and Stincher, in Ayrshire 203
Rivers of Wales.--The Conway 205
The River Dovey 205
The River Tivey 206
The Wye, Monmouth 207
The River Severn 208
The Trent 209
Rivers of York and Derby 210
The Hodder 211
Rivers of Derby 211
The Rivers Wandle and Coln 212
Bait Fishing.--The River Thames 216
Perch 218
Barbel 219
Pike 221
Roach 224
Dace 226
Carp 226
Chub 227
Gudgeons and Minnows 228
Baits 229
The Art of Dyeing Fishing Colours 232
To Dye Yellow 234
To Dye Brown 236
To Dye a Yellow-Brown 237
To Dye Blue 238
To Dye Red 239
To Dye Orange 240
To Dye Purple or Violet 241
To Dye Crimson 241
To Dye Scarlet. 242
Crimson Red in Grain 243
To Dye Green Drake Feathers and Fur 243
To Dye Claret 244
Another way to Dye Claret 245
To Dye Black 246
To Dye Greens of various Shades 246
To Dye Lavender or Slate Dun, &c. 247
Blues 248
A Silver Grey 248
A Coffee or Chesnut 249
To Dye Olives and a Mixture of Colours 249
A Concise way of Dyeing Colours 250
The Materials necessary for Artificial Fly Making 256
PREFACE.
I know not how to apologise for submitting a Second Edition of this
little Book to the notice of the Angling few, after the appearance of so
many by clever writers, except the many calls I had for it, and a
sincere desire of improving farther upon a craft that has not hitherto
been clearly promulgated by a real practitioner; consequently my great
object is to benefit and amuse my readers, by giving them something
practical,
| 558.594207 | 2,657 |
2023-11-16 18:25:05.2777320
| 1,182 | 411 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Barry Abrahamsen and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This book was produced from images made available by the
HathiTrust Digital Library.)
The Review
------------------------------------------------------------------------
VOLUME I, No. 2. FEBRUARY, 1911
THE REVIEW
A MONTHLY PERIODICAL, PUBLISHED BY THE
=NATIONAL PRISONERS’ AID ASSOCIATION=
AT 135 EAST 15th STREET, NEW YORK CITY.
---------------------------------------------------------
TEN CENTS A COPY. SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS A YEAR
---------------------------------------------------------
E. F. Waite, President.
F. Emory Lyon, Vice President.
O. F. Lewis, Secretary and Editor Review.
E. A. Fredenhagen, Chairman Ex. Committee.
Charles Parsons, Member Ex. Committee.
A. H. Votaw, Member Ex. Committee.
G. E. Cornwall, Member Ex. Committee
Albert Steelman, Member Ex. Committee
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LEGISLATION
These are the months that count. This issue of the REVIEW brings notice
of many bills introduced in various states for the betterment of prison
conditions and for the welfare of the prisoner. Let prisoners’ aid
societies show during these next few months that they can work for
legislation as well as talk, co-operate with other organizations as well
as criticize, get results as well as get out annual reports. Let us not
be discouraged because it may often be said that “there is no hope of
getting a bill like that through this year.” Passing a bill is only one
of the steps in the process of educating public sentiment up to the
acceptance of a new idea. Education must begin somewhere and sometime.
So let us be active in advocating and introducing good legislation, even
though we may not get all we want in any one year.
----------
=MESSAGE OF THE PRISONERS’ AID SOCIETIES=
We have one of the most important messages in the field of practical
philanthropy. Americans, particularly in the eastern states, are loth to
wear their hearts upon their sleeves. So we hesitate sometimes perhaps,
to emphasize the message we have. Yet—life is short, and the field is
wide. Prisons are still far from solving the problems of the deprivation
of liberty, punishment, the protection of society, the rehabilitation of
the criminal, and the reduction of crimes.
Therefore, let us not forget the missionary nature of the prisoners’ aid
society. But, in spreading far and wide the facts regarding the prisoner
and the duty of society in his behalf, let us not fall into the error of
being fanatical because our field is one of magnitude. Accepting the
proposition that the great public wants definite and impressive
information, not simply emotional enthusiasm or tirade, let us present
honestly and vigorously conditions as they are, and also make
constructive suggestions as to their possible betterment, never
forgetting the many difficulties that prison administrators are forced
to meet which are not of their own making.
----------
=THE REVIEW=
This number of the REVIEW begins to illustrate the purpose of the
editors. This periodical should be a live news sheet of events and
discussions in the prison and prisoners’ aid field. So we publish this
month a noteworthy article by an Iowa warden with progressive ideas; we
print also Mr. Whitin’s conclusion about the use of prisoners in road
making and about the administrative problems raised by their use.
Several prisoners’ aid societies are described by their own
representatives. This journal’s first purpose is to be a bond of union
between these societies. Then follow a number of pages of notes on
events in the prison field. We hope the Review deserves the co-operation
of all engaged in the prison field. Paraphrasing the Old Farmer’s
Almanac: “Now is the time to subscribe!”
THE MAN GOING OUT.[1]
=By WARDEN J. C. SANDERS, Ft. Madison, Iowa.=
Footnote 1:
Reprinted from “Man for Man,” annual report for 1911 of Central Howard
Association.
I do not feel enough can ever be said to eternally damn, as they should
be, the vicious, barbarous, degenerating method, which until within
comparatively recent years, robbed penology of the right to be classed
as a science and converted our prisons and penitentiaries into forcing
beds for the germinating and spreading of folly, vice and crime.
Society, however, has paid the price for the mistaken views it endorsed,
and as the new era is fast sweeping away the old, I have elected to deal
with the man produced by it. And mark you, I say MAN, for in Iowa we are
trying to make men in our prisons today, not ex-convicts. I want to
feel, and I am going to feel, when the day of liberation comes, and a
man stands in my office prepared to re-enter the world, that society is
about to receive back in the economic value of the man returned, the
principal and interest on all it has cost to produce him. But to come at
once to my subject, the “MAN GOING OUT.”
If there is one thing a man needs most at such a time it is
self-confidence. Its absence marks the weakling and is almost a sure
precursor of
| 558.597142 | 2,658 |
2023-11-16 18:25:05.5354190
| 400 | 92 |
Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Sarah Gutierrez, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was made using scans of public domain works in the International
Children's Digital Library.)
FABLES OF JOHN GAY
(SOMEWHAT ALTERED).
[Illustration]
FABLES OF JOHN GAY
(SOMEWHAT ALTERED).
AFFECTIONATELY PRESENTED TO
MARGARET ROSE,
BY HER UNCLE
JOHN BENSON ROSE.
[_FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION._]
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES & SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS.
1871.
DEDICATION.
Si doulce la Margarite.
When I first saw you--never mind the year--you could speak no English,
and when next I saw you, after a lapse of two years, you _would_
prattle no French; when again we met, you were the nymph with bright
and flowing hair, which frightened his Highness Prince James out of
his feline senses, when, as you came in by the door, he made his bolt
by the window. It was then that you entreated me, with "most
petitionary vehemence," to write you a book--a big book--thick, and
all for yourself--
"Apollo heard, and granting half the prayer,
Shuffled to winds the rest and tossed in air."
I have not written the book, nor is it thick: but I have printed you a
book, and it is thin. And I take the occasion to note that old Geoffry
Chaucer, our father poet, must have had you in his mind's eye, by
prescience or precognition, or he
| 558.854829 | 2,659 |
2023-11-16 18:25:05.5449410
| 1,316 | 256 |
E-text prepared by Graeme Mackreth 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/bondmanstoryofti00oneirich
THE LIBRARY OF ROMANCE.
Edited
by LEITCH RITCHIE.
VOL. V.
THE BONDMAN.
London:
Smith, Elder and Co., 65, Cornhill.
1833.
Printed by Stewart and Co., Old Bailey.
THE BONDMAN.
A Story of the Times of Wat Tyler.
London:
Smith, Elder and Co., 65, Cornhill;
1833.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The idea of the following tale was suggested on reading the first
volume of Robertson's Charles the Fifth, on the Feudal Policy of
Germany; and the picture of moral and political debasement presented in
those pages, whether as regards the oppressor or the oppressed. Those
revolting distinctions have, however, passed away--villein is but a
thing that was. But if the old chronicles are to be credited, the monk,
whom the author has endeavoured to pourtray in the course of this tale,
was the first who whispered in the ear of an English serf, that slavery
was not his birthright.
It may, perhaps, be superfluous to add, that all the legal information
scattered through the volume, is strictly correct; and every historical
event, as nearly so as the machinery of the tale permitted. The
critical reader, whose indulgence the writer solicits, will immediately
perceive from whence the information has been derived.
THE BONDMAN.
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
About a quarter of a mile south of Winchcombe, on the summit of a
gentle elevation, are still the remains of a castle, which, as Fuller
says, "was of subjects' castles the most handsome habitation, and of
subjects' habitations the strongest castle."
In the month of August, in the year thirteen hundred and seventy-four,
this distinguished place, called Sudley Castle, presented an
interesting scene--the then owner, in consequence of his father's
death, holding his first court for receiving the homage and fealty of
his vassals.
The court-yards were thronged with the retainers of the Baron,
beguiling the hour until the ceremony called them into the hall. This
apartment, which corresponded in magnificence and beauty with the
outward appearance of the noble pile, was of an oblong shape. Carved
representations of battles adorned the lofty oaken ceiling, and
suspended were banners and quarterings of the Sudley and De Boteler
families. Ancestral statues of oak, clad in complete armour, stood
in niches formed in the thick walls. The heavy linked mail of the
Normans, with the close helmet, or skull cap, fastened under the chin,
and leaving the face exposed, encased those who represented the early
barons of Sudley; while those of a later period were clad in the more
convenient, and more beautiful armour of the fourteenth century. The
walls were covered with arms, adapted to the different descriptions of
soldiers of the period, and arranged so, as each might provide himself
with his proper weapons, without delay or confusion.
The hall had a tesselated pavement, on which the arms of the united
families of Sudley and De Boteler (the latter having inherited by
marriage, in consequence of a failure of male issue in the former)
were depicted with singular accuracy and beauty. About midway from
the entrance, two broad steps of white marble led to the part of the
hall exclusively appropriated to the owner of the castle. The mosaic
work of this privileged space was concealed on the present occasion
by a covering of fine crimson cloth. A large arm chair, covered with
crimson velvet, with the De Boteler arms richly emblazoned on the high
back, over which hung a velvet canopy fringed with gold, was placed
in the centre of the elevation; and several other chairs with similar
coverings and emblazonings, but wanting canopies, were disposed around
for the accommodation of the guests.
The steward at length appeared, and descended the steps to classify
the people for the intended homage, and to satisfy himself that none
had disobeyed the summons.
The tenantry were arranged in the following order:--
First--the steward and esquire stood on either side next the steps.
Then followed the vassals who held lands for watching and warding the
castle. These were considered superior to the other vassals from the
peculiar nature of their tenure, as the life-guards, as it were, of
their lord.
Then those who held lands in chivalry, namely, by performing stated
military services, the perfection of whose tenures was homage.
The next were those who held lands by agricultural or rent service, and
who performed fealty as a memorial of their attachment and dependence.
The bondmen, or legally speaking, the villeins, concluded the array.
These were either attached to the soil or to the person. The former
were designated _villeins appendant_, because following the transfer
of the ground, like fixtures of a freehold, their persons, lands, and
goods, being the property of the lord; they might be chastised, but not
maimed. They paid a fine on the marriage of females; who obtained their
freedom on marriage with a free man, but returned again to bondage
on surviving their husband. The latter class were called _villeins
in gross_, and differed nothing from the others except in name; the
term signifying that they were severed from the soil, and followed the
person of the lord. Neither of the classes were permitted to leave the
lands of their owner; and on flight or settlement in towns or cities,
might be pursued and reclaimed. An action for damages lay against those
who harboured them, or who refused to deliver them up,--the law also
| 558.864351 | 2,660 |
2023-11-16 18:25:05.5736190
| 398 | 97 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
TILL THE CLOCK STOPS
BY J. J. BELL
AUTHOR OF "WEE MACGREEGOR," ETC.
1917
THE PROLOGUE
On a certain brilliant Spring morning in London's City the seed of the
Story was lightly sown. Within the directors' room of the Aasvogel
Syndicate, Manchester House, New Broad Street, was done and hidden away a
deed, simple and commonplace, which in due season was fated to yield a
weighty crop of consequences complex and extraordinary.
At the table, pen in hand, sat a young man, slight of build, but of fresh
complexion, and attractive, eager countenance, neither definitely fair
nor definitely dark. He was silently reading over a document engrossed on
bluish hand-made folio; not a lengthy document--nineteen lines, to be
precise. And he was reading very slowly and carefully, chiefly to oblige
the man standing behind his chair.
This man, whose age might have been anything between forty and fifty, and
whose colouring was dark and a trifle florid, would probably have evoked
the epithet of "handsome" on the operatic stage, and in any city but
London that of "distinguished." In London, however, you could hardly fail
to find his like in one or other of the west-end restaurants about 8 p.m.
Francis Bullard, standing erect in the sunshine, a shade over-fed
looking, but perfectly groomed in his regulation city garb, an enigmatic
smile under his neat black moustache as he watched the reader, suggested
nothing ugly or mean, nothing worse, indeed, than worldly prosperity and
a frank enjoyment thereof. His well
| 558.893029 | 2,661 |
2023-11-16 18:25:05.7648740
| 650 | 54 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian
Libraries.)
CIVIL WAR AND RECONSTRUCTION IN ALABAMA
CIVIL WAR AND RECONSTRUCTION IN ALABAMA
BY WALTER L. FLEMING, PH.D.
PROFESSOR OF HISTORY IN WEST VIRGINIA UNIVERSITY
[Illustration]
New York
THE COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, AGENTS
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1905
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1905,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1905.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
TO MY WIFE MARY BOYD FLEMING
PREFACE
This work was begun some five years ago as a study of Reconstruction in
Alabama. As the field opened it seemed to me that an account of
ante-bellum conditions, social, economic, and political, and of the effect
of the Civil War upon ante-bellum institutions would be indispensable to
any just and comprehensive treatment of the later period. Consequently I
have endeavored to describe briefly the society and the institutions that
went down during Civil War and Reconstruction. Internal conditions in
Alabama during the war period are discussed at length; they are important,
because they influenced seriously the course of Reconstruction. Throughout
the work I have sought to emphasize the social and economic problems in
the general situation, and accordingly in addition to a sketch of the
politics I have dwelt at some length upon the educational, religious, and
industrial aspects of the period. One point in particular has been
stressed throughout the whole work, viz. the fact of the segregation of
the races within the state--the blacks mainly in the central counties, and
the whites in the northern and the southern counties. This division of the
state into "white" counties and "black" counties has almost from the
beginning exercised the strongest influence upon the history of its
people. The problems of white and black in the Black Belt are not always
the problems of the whites and blacks of the white counties. It is hoped
that the maps inserted in the text will assist in making clear this point.
Perhaps it may be thought that undue space is devoted to the history of
the <DW64> during War and Reconstruction, but after all the <DW64>, whether
passive or active, was the central figure of the period.
Believing that the political problems of War and Reconstruction are of
less permanent importance than the forces which have shaped and are
shaping the social and industrial life of the people, I have confined the
discussion of politics to certain chapters chronologically arranged, while
for the remainder of the book the topical method of presentation has been
adopted
| 559.084284 | 2,662 |
2023-11-16 18:25:05.7670980
| 1,160 | 414 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Lincoln’s Plan of Reconstruction
_By_
CHARLES H. McCARTHY
=Ph.D.= (_Pa._)
[Illustration]
New York
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.
MCMI
_Copyright_, 1901 _by_
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.
PUBLISHED NOVEMBER, 1901
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
Page
=Introduction= xv
I
TENNESSEE
Election and Policy of Lincoln 1
East Tennessee 3
Secession 8
Federal Victories 10
A Military Governor 11
Origin of Military Governors in the United States 12
Measures of Governor Johnson 17
<DW64> Troops 20
Nashville Convention of 1863 21
Proclamation of Amnesty and Reconstruction 23
Steps to Restoration 27
Nashville Convention of 1865 30
Election of William G. Brownlow 32
Nomination of Lincoln and Johnson 32
Presidential Election in Tennessee 34
II
LOUISIANA
Popularity of Secession 36
Financial Embarrassment 37
Capture of New Orleans 38
Lincoln’s Advice 38
General Shepley appointed Military Governor 39
Election of Representatives to Congress 45
Division among Unionists 47
Military Operations 49
Lincoln Urges Reconstruction 51
Political Activity among Loyalists 53
Title of Louisiana Claimants 58
Opposition to General Banks 61
Plan of Reconstruction proposed 66
Election of 1864 70
Inauguration of Civil Government 72
Lincoln’s Letter on <DW64> Suffrage 73
Constitutional Convention 75
Congressional Election 76
III
ARKANSAS
Indifference to Secession 77
The Fall of Sumter 78
Seizure of Little Rock 79
Military Matters 79
Threat of Seceding from Secession 82
General Phelps appointed Military Governor 82
Enthusiasm of Unionists 83
Lincoln’s Interest in Arkansas 83
Inaugurating a Loyal Government 84
The Election of 1864 90
IV
VIRGINIA
Secession 93
Physical Features and Early Settlements 94
Society and Its Basis 95
The Counter-Revolution 97
Convention at Wheeling 99
Organizing a Union Government 100
Legislature of Restored Virginia 103
The State of Kanawha 105
Attorney-General Bates on Dismemberment 105
Making a New State 107
Compensated Emancipation 108
Formation of New State discussed in Congress 110
Cabinet on Dismemberment 120
Lincoln on Dismemberment 124
Webster’s Prediction 126
Inauguration of New State 128
Reorganizing the Restored State 129
Right of Commonwealth to Representation in Congress 131
Rupture between Civil and Military Authorities 133
The President Interposes 135
Congress Refuses to Admit a Senator-Elect 138
V
ANTI-SLAVERY LEGISLATION
Compensated Emancipation in Congress 142
Contrabands 143
The Military Power and Fugitive Slaves 144
Lincoln on Military Emancipation 148
Andrew Jackson and Nullification 151
Lincoln on Compensated Emancipation 152
Compensated Emancipation in Delaware 155
Abandoned Slaves 160
Border Policy Propounded 163
General Hunter and Military Emancipation 168
Slavery Prohibited in the Territories 170
Attitude of Border States on Slavery 172
Lincoln Resolves to Emancipate Slaves by Proclamation 177
VI
THEORIES AND PLANS OF RECONSTRUCTION
The Presidential Plan 190
Sumner’s Theory of State Suicide 196
“Conquered Province” Theory of Stevens 211
Theory of Northern Democrats 217
Crittenden Resolution 220
VII
RISE OF THE CONGRESSIONAL PLAN
Bill to Guarantee a Republican Form of Government 224
Henry Winter Davis on Reconstruction 226
House Debates on Bill of Wade and Davis 236
Pendleton’s Speech on Reconstruction 257
Provisions of Wade-Davis Bill 262
Senate Debate on Bill of Wade and Davis 264
President’s Pocket Veto 273
| 559.086508 | 2,663 |
2023-11-16 18:25:06.2377810
| 1,187 | 84 |
Produced by K Nordquist and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE UNICORN FROM THE STARS
AND OTHER PLAYS
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK. BOSTON. CHICAGO
ATLANTA. SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON. BOMBAY. CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
THE UNICORN FROM THE STARS
AND OTHER PLAYS
BY
WILLIAM B. YEATS
AND
LADY GREGORY
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1908
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1904, 1908,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
New edition. Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1908.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
PREFACE
About seven years ago I began to dictate the first of these Plays to
Lady Gregory. My eyesight had become so bad that I feared I could
henceforth write nothing with my own hands but verses, which, as
Theophile Gautier has said, can be written with a burnt match. Our
Irish Dramatic movement was just passing out of the hands of English
Actors, hired because we knew of no Irish ones, and our little troop of
Irish amateurs--as they were at the time--could not have too many
Plays, for they would come to nothing without continued playing.
Besides, it was exciting to discover, after the unpopularity of blank
verse, what one could do with three Plays written in prose and founded
on three public interests deliberately chosen,--religion, humour,
patriotism. I planned in those days to establish a dramatic movement
upon the popular passions, as the ritual of religion is established in
the emotions that surround birth and death and marriage, and it was
only the coming of the unclassifiable, uncontrollable, capricious,
uncompromising genius of J. M. Synge that altered the direction of the
movement and made it individual, critical, and combative. If his had
not, some other stone would have blocked up the old way, for the public
mind of Ireland, stupefied by prolonged intolerant organisation, can
take but brief pleasure in the caprice that is in all art, whatever its
subject, and, more commonly, can but hate unaccustomed personal
reverie.
I had dreamed the subject of "Cathleen ni Houlihan," but found when I
looked for words that I could not create peasant dialogue that would go
nearer to peasant life than the dialogue in "The Land of Heart's
Desire" or "The Countess Cathleen." Every artistic form has its own
ancestry, and the more elaborate it is, the more is the writer
constrained to symbolise rather than to represent life, until perhaps
his ladies of fashion are shepherds and shepherdesses, as when Colin
Clout came home again. I could not get away, no matter how closely I
watched the country life, from images and dreams which had all too
royal blood, for they were descended like the thought of every poet
from all the conquering dreams of Europe, and I wished to make that
high life mix into some rough contemporary life without ceasing to be
itself, as so many old books and Plays have mixed it and so few modern,
and to do this I added another knowledge to my own. Lady Gregory had
written no Plays, but had, I discovered, a greater knowledge of the
country mind and country speech than anybody I had ever met with, and
nothing but a burden of knowledge could keep "Cathleen ni Houlihan"
from the clouds. I needed less help for the "Hour-Glass," for the
speech there is far from reality, and so the Play is almost wholly
mine. When, however, I brought to her the general scheme for the "Pot
of Broth," a little farce which seems rather imitative to-day, though
it plays well enough, and of the first version of "The Unicorn," "Where
there is Nothing," a five-act Play written in a fortnight to save it
from a plagiarist, and tried to dictate them, her share grew more and
more considerable. She would not allow me to put her name to these
Plays, though I have always tried to explain her share in them, but has
signed "The Unicorn from the Stars," which but for a good deal of the
general plan and a single character and bits of another is wholly hers.
I feel indeed that my best share in it is that idea, which I have been
capable of expressing completely in criticism alone, of bringing
together the rough life of the road and the frenzy that the poets have
found in their ancient cellar,--a prophecy, as it were, of the time
when it will be once again possible for a Dickens and a Shelley to be
born in the one body.
The chief person of the earlier Play was very dominating, and I have
grown to look upon this as a fault, though it increases the dramatic
effect in a superficial way. We cannot sympathise with the man who sets
his anger at once lightly and confidently to overthrow the order of the
| 559.557191 | 2,664 |
2023-11-16 18:25:06.5081560
| 1,094 | 406 |
Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org
THE THREE IMPOSTORS
or The Transmutations
by
ARTHUR MACHEN
TRANSLATOR OF 'L'HEPTAMERON' AND 'LE MOYEN DE PARVENIR';
AUTHOR OF 'THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY' AND 'THE GREAT GOD PAN'
BOSTON: Roberts Bros, 1895
LONDON: John Lane, Vigo st.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
ADVENTURE OF THE GOLD TIBERIUS
THE ENCOUNTER OF THE PAVEMENT
NOVEL OF THE DARK VALLEY
ADVENTURE OF THE MISSING BROTHER
NOVEL OF THE BLACK SEAL
INCIDENT OF THE PRIVATE BAR
THE DECORATIVE IMAGINATION
NOVEL OF THE IRON MAID
THE RECLUSE OF BAYSWATER
NOVEL OF THE WHITE POWDER
STRANGE OCCURRENCE IN CLERKENWELL
HISTORY OF THE YOUNG MAN WITH SPECTACLES
ADVENTURE OF THE DESERTED RESIDENCE
THE THREE IMPOSTORS.
PROLOGUE.
"And Mr. Joseph Walters is going to stay the night?" said the smooth
clean-shaven man to his companion, an individual not of the most
charming appearance, who had chosen to make his ginger- mustache
merge into a pair of short chin-whiskers.
The two stood at the hall door, grinning evilly at each other; and
presently a girl ran quickly down, the stairs, and joined them. She was
quite young, with a quaint and piquant rather than a beautiful face, and
her eyes were of a shining hazel. She held a neat paper parcel in one
hand, and laughed with her friends.
"Leave the door open," said the smooth man to the other, as they were
going out. "Yes, by----," he went on with an ugly oath. "We'll leave the
front door on the jar. He may like to see company, you know."
The other man looked doubtfully about him. "Is it quite prudent do you
think, Davies?" he said, pausing with his hand on the mouldering
knocker. "I don't think Lipsius would like it. What do you say, Helen?"
"I agree with Davies. Davies is an artist, and you are commonplace,
Richmond, and a bit of a coward. Let the door stand open, of course. But
what a pity Lipsius had to go away! He would have enjoyed himself."
"Yes," replied the smooth Mr. Davies, "that summons to the west was very
hard on the doctor."
The three passed out, leaving the hall door, cracked and riven with
frost and wet, half open, and they stood silent for a moment under the
ruinous shelter of the porch.
"Well," said the girl, "it is done at last. I shall hurry no more on the
track of the young man with spectacles."
"We owe a great deal to you," said Mr. Davies politely; "the doctor said
so before he left. But have we not all three some farewells to make? I,
for my part, propose to say good-by, here, before this picturesque but
mouldy residence, to my friend Mr. Burton, dealer in the antique and
curious," and the man lifted his hat with an exaggerated bow.
"And I," said Richmond, "bid adieu to Mr. Wilkins, the private
secretary, whose company has, I confess, become a little tedious."
"Farewell to Miss Lally, and to Miss Leicester also," said the girl,
making as she spoke a delicious courtesy. "Farewell to all occult
adventure; the farce is played."
Mr. Davies and the lady seemed full of grim enjoyment, but Richmond
tugged at his whiskers nervously.
"I feel a bit shaken up," he said. "I've seen rougher things in the
States, but that crying noise he made gave me a sickish feeling. And
then the smell--But my stomach was never very strong."
The three friends moved away from the door, and began to walk slowly up
and down what had been a gravel path, but now lay green and pulpy with
damp mosses. It was a fine autumn evening, and a faint sunlight shone on
the yellow walls of the old deserted house, and showed the patches of
gangrenous decay, and all the stains, the black drift of rain from the
broken pipes, the scabrous blots where the bare bricks were exposed, the
green weeping of a gaunt laburnum that stood beside the porch, and
ragged marks near the ground where the reeking clay was gaining on the
worn foundations. It was a queer rambling old place, the centre perhaps
two hundred years old, with dormer windows sloping from the tiled roof,
and on each side there were Georgian wings; bow windows had been carried
up to the first floor, and two dome-like cupolas
| 559.827566 | 2,665 |
2023-11-16 18:25:06.7195000
| 1,098 | 449 |
Transcribed from the 1913 Methuen & Co. edition by David Price, email
[email protected]. Note that later editions of De Profundis contained
more material. The most complete editions are still in copyright in the
U.S.A.
DE PROFUNDIS
... Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons.
We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return. With us time
itself does not progress. It revolves. It seems to circle round one
centre of pain. The paralysing immobility of a life every circumstance
of which is regulated after an unchangeable pattern, so that we eat and
drink and lie down and pray, or kneel at least for prayer, according to
the inflexible laws of an iron formula: this immobile quality, that makes
each dreadful day in the very minutest detail like its brother, seems to
communicate itself to those external forces the very essence of whose
existence is ceaseless change. Of seed-time or harvest, of the reapers
bending over the corn, or the grape gatherers threading through the
vines, of the grass in the orchard made white with broken blossoms or
strewn with fallen fruit: of these we know nothing and can know nothing.
For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow. The very sun and
moon seem taken from us. Outside, the day may be blue and gold, but the
light that creeps down through the thickly-muffled glass of the small
iron-barred window beneath which one sits is grey and niggard. It is
always twilight in one's cell, as it is always twilight in one's heart.
And in the sphere of thought, no less than in the sphere of time, motion
is no more. The thing that you personally have long ago forgotten, or
can easily forget, is happening to me now, and will happen to me again to-
morrow. Remember this, and you will be able to understand a little of
why I am writing, and in this manner writing....
A week later, I am transferred here. Three more months go over and my
mother dies. No one knew how deeply I loved and honoured her. Her death
was terrible to me; but I, once a lord of language, have no words in
which to express my anguish and my shame. She and my father had
bequeathed me a name they had made noble and honoured, not merely in
literature, art, archaeology, and science, but in the public history of
my own country, in its evolution as a nation. I had disgraced that name
eternally. I had made it a low by-word among low people. I had dragged
it through the very mire. I had given it to brutes that they might make
it brutal, and to fools that they might turn it into a synonym for folly.
What I suffered then, and still suffer, is not for pen to write or paper
to record. My wife, always kind and gentle to me, rather than that I
should hear the news from indifferent lips, travelled, ill as she was,
all the way from Genoa to England to break to me herself the tidings of
so irreparable, so irremediable, a loss. Messages of sympathy reached me
from all who had still affection for me. Even people who had not known
me personally, hearing that a new sorrow had broken into my life, wrote
to ask that some expression of their condolence should be conveyed to me.
...
Three months go over. The calendar of my daily conduct and labour that
hangs on the outside of my cell door, with my name and sentence written
upon it, tells me that it is May....
Prosperity, pleasure and success, may be rough of grain and common in
fibre, but sorrow is the most sensitive of all created things. There is
nothing that stirs in the whole world of thought to which sorrow does not
vibrate in terrible and exquisite pulsation. The thin beaten-out leaf of
tremulous gold that chronicles the direction of forces the eye cannot see
is in comparison coarse. It is a wound that bleeds when any hand but
that of love touches it, and even then must bleed again, though not in
pain.
Where there is sorrow there is holy ground. Some day people will realise
what that means. They will know nothing of life till they do,--and
natures like his can realise it. When I was brought down from my prison
to the Court of Bankruptcy, between two policemen,--waited in the long
dreary corridor that, before the whole crowd, whom an action so sweet and
simple hushed into silence, he might gravely raise his hat to me, as,
handcuffed and with bowed head, I passed him by. Men have gone to heaven
for smaller things than that. It was in this spirit, and
| 560.03891 | 2,666 |
2023-11-16 18:25:07.0482880
| 398 | 80 |
Produced by Ritu Aggarwal, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.
2. Images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the
closest paragraph break.
3. The word manoeuvre uses an oe ligature in the original.
4. Printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation,
and ligature usage have been retained.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. CL.
APRIL 26, 1916.
CHARIVARIA.
GENERAL VILLA, in pursuit of whom a United States army has already
penetrated four hundred miles into Mexico, is alleged to have died.
It is not considered likely, however, that he will escape as easily
as all that.
***
"Germans net the Sound," says a recent issue of a contemporary. We
don't know what profit they will get out of it, but we ourselves in
these hard times are only too glad to net anything.
***
Bags of coffee taken from a Norwegian steamer and destined for German
consumption have been found to contain rubber. Once more the
immeasurable superiority of the German chemist as a deviser of
synthetic substitutes for ordinary household commodities is clearly
illustrated. What a contrast to our own scientists, whose use of this
most valuable food substitute has never gone far beyond an occasional
fowl or beefsteak.
***
It has been suggested that in honour of the tercentenary of
SHAKSPEARE'S birth Barclay's brewery should be replaced by a new
theatre, a replica of the old Globe Theatre, whose site it is supposed
to occupy; and Mr. REGINALD MCKENNA is understood to
| 560.367698 | 2,667 |
2023-11-16 18:25:07.0729900
| 954 | 54 |
Produced by Thiers Halliwell, Chris Curnow and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber’s notes:
The text of this book has been preserved in its original form
apart from correction of two typographic errors: embarrasment →
embarrassment, Cassegranian → Cassegrainian. Inconsistent hyphenation
has not been altered. A lengthy preliminary section concerning the
Smithsonian Institution precedes the actual subject matter.
SMITHSONIAN
CONTRIBUTIONS TO KNOWLEDGE.
VOL. XIV.
[Illustration]
EVERY MAN IS A VALUABLE MEMBER OF SOCIETY, WHO, BY HIS OBSERVATIONS,
RESEARCHES, AND EXPERIMENTS, PROCURES KNOWLEDGE FOR MEN.--SMITHSON.
CITY OF WASHINGTON:
PUBLISHED BY THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION.
MDCCCLXV.
ADVERTISEMENT.
This volume forms the fourteenth of a series, composed of original
memoirs on different branches of knowledge, published at the expense,
and under the direction, of the Smithsonian Institution. The
publication of this series forms part of a general plan adopted for
carrying into effect the benevolent intentions of JAMES SMITHSON,
Esq., of England. This gentleman left his property in trust to the
United States of America, to found, at Washington, an institution which
should bear his own name, and have for its objects the “_increase_ and
_diffusion_ of knowledge among men.” This trust was accepted by the
Government of the United States, and an Act of Congress was passed
August 10, 1846, constituting the President and the other principal
executive officers of the general government, the Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court, the Mayor of Washington, and such other persons as they
might elect honorary members, an establishment under the name of the
“SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION FOR THE INCREASE AND DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE
AMONG MEN.” The members and honorary members of this establishment are
to hold stated and special meetings for the supervision of the affairs
of the Institution, and for the advice and instruction of a Board of
Regents, to whom the financial and other affairs are intrusted.
The Board of Regents consists of three members _ex officio_ of the
establishment, namely, the Vice-President of the United States, the
Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and the Mayor of Washington,
together with twelve other members, three of whom are appointed by the
Senate from its own body, three by the House of Representatives from
its members, and six persons appointed by a joint resolution of both
houses. To this Board is given the power of electing a Secretary and
other officers, for conducting the active operations of the Institution.
To carry into effect the purposes of the testator, the plan of
organization should evidently embrace two objects: one, the increase
of knowledge by the addition of new truths to the existing stock;
the other, the diffusion of knowledge, thus increased, among men. No
restriction is made in favor of any kind of knowledge; and, hence, each
branch is entitled to, and should receive, a share of attention.
The Act of Congress, establishing the Institution, directs, as a part
of the plan of organization, the formation of a Library, a Museum, and
a Gallery of Art, together with provisions for physical research and
popular lectures, while it leaves to the Regents the power of adopting
such other parts of an organization as they may deem best suited to
promote the objects of the bequest.
After much deliberation, the Regents resolved to divide the annual
income into two parts--one part to be devoted to the increase
and diffusion of knowledge by means of original research and
publications--the other part of the income to be applied in accordance
with the requirements of the Act of Congress, to the gradual formation
of a Library, a Museum, and a Gallery of Art.
The following are the details of the parts of the general plan of
organization provisionally adopted at the meeting of the Regents, Dec.
8, 1847.
DETAILS OF THE FIRST PART OF THE PLAN.
I. TO INCREASE KNOWLEDGE.--_It is proposed to stimulate research,
by offering rewards for original memoirs on all subjects of
investigation._
1. The memoirs thus obtained
| 560.3924 | 2,668 |
2023-11-16 18:25:07.6096160
| 419 | 99 |
Produced by Giovanni Fini, Shaun Pinder and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: Sarah K. Bolton]
A COUNTRY IDYL
AND
OTHER STORIES
BY
SARAH KNOWLES BOLTON
AUTHOR OF “POOR BOYS WHO BECAME FAMOUS,” “GIRLS WHO BECAME
FAMOUS,” “FAMOUS AMERICAN AUTHORS,” “FAMOUS AMERICAN
STATESMEN,” “FAMOUS MEN OF SCIENCE,” “FAMOUS
EUROPEAN ARTISTS,” “FAMOUS TYPES OF
WOMANHOOD,” “STORIES FROM LIFE,”
“FROM HEART AND NATURE” (POEMS), “FAMOUS ENGLISH
AUTHORS,” “FAMOUS ENGLISH STATESMEN,”
“FAMOUS VOYAGERS,” “FAMOUS
LEADERS AMONG WOMEN,” “FAMOUS
LEADERS AMONG MEN,” “SOCIAL
STUDIES IN ENGLAND,” “THE
INEVITABLE, AND OTHER
POEMS,” ETC.
NEW YORK: 46 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY
BOSTON: 100 PURCHASE STREET
COPYRIGHT, 1898,
BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY.
ROCKWELL AND CHURCHILL PRESS, BOSTON.
TO
CHARLES
AND
ETHEL
CONTENTS.
PAGE
A COUNTRY IDYL 5
THE SECOND TIME 14
FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS 22
THE RING OF GOLD 27
FOUR LETTERS 35
| 560.929026 | 2,669 |
2023-11-16 18:25:07.7968540
| 4,089 | 85 |
Transcribed from the 1864 Chapman and Hall “Tales of All Countries”
edition by David Price, email [email protected]
THE CHÂTEAU OF PRINCE POLIGNAC.
FEW Englishmen or Englishwomen are intimately acquainted with the little
town of Le Puy. It is the capital of the old province of Le Velay, which
also is now but little known, even to French ears, for it is in these
days called by the imperial name of the Department of the Haute Loire.
It is to the south-east of Auvergne, and is nearly in the centre of the
southern half of France.
But few towns, merely as towns, can be better worth visiting. In the
first place, the volcanic formation of the ground on which it stands is
not only singular in the extreme, so as to be interesting to the
geologist, but it is so picturesque as to be equally gratifying to the
general tourist. Within a narrow valley there stand several rocks,
rising up from the ground with absolute abruptness. Round two of these
the town clusters, and a third stands but a mile distant, forming the
centre of a faubourg, or suburb. These rocks appear to be, and I believe
are, the harder particles of volcanic matter, which have not been carried
away through successive ages by the joint agency of water and air.
When the tide of lava ran down between the hills the surface left was no
doubt on a level with the heads of these rocks; but here and there the
deposit became harder than elsewhere, and these harder points have
remained, lifting up their steep heads in a line through the valley.
The highest of these is called the Rocher de Corneille. Round this and
up its steep sides the town stands. On its highest summit there was an
old castle; and there now is, or will be before these pages are printed,
a colossal figure in bronze of the Virgin Mary, made from the cannon
taken at Sebastopol. Half-way down the hill the cathedral is built, a
singularly gloomy edifice,—Romanesque, as it is called, in its style, but
extremely similar in its mode of architecture to what we know of
Byzantine structures. But there has been no surface on the rock side
large enough to form a resting-place for the church, which has therefore
been built out on huge supporting piles, which form a porch below the
west front; so that the approach is by numerous steps laid along the side
of the wall below the church, forming a wondrous flight of stairs. Let
all men who may find themselves stopping at Le Puy visit the top of these
stairs at the time of the setting sun, and look down from thence through
the framework of the porch on the town beneath, and at the hill-side
beyond.
Behind the church is the seminary of the priests, with its beautiful
walks stretching round the Rocher de Corneille, and overlooking the town
and valley below.
Next to this rock, and within a quarter of a mile of it, is the second
peak, called the Rock of the Needle. It rises narrow, sharp, and abrupt
from the valley, allowing of no buildings on its sides. But on its very
point has been erected a church sacred to St. Michael, that lover of rock
summits, accessible by stairs cut from the stone. This, perhaps—this
rock, I mean—is the most wonderful of the wonders which Nature has formed
at La Puy.
Above this, at a mile’s distance, is the rock of Espailly, formed in the
same way, and almost equally precipitous. On its summit is a castle,
having its own legend, and professing to have been the residence of
Charles VII., when little of France belonged to its kings but the
provinces of Berry, Auvergne, and Le Velay. Some three miles farther up
there is another volcanic rock, larger, indeed, but equally sudden in its
spring,—equally remarkable as rising abruptly from the valley,—on which
stands the castle and old family residence of the house of Polignac. It
was lost by them at the Revolution, but was repurchased by the minister
of Charles X., and is still the property of the head of the race.
Le Puy itself is a small, moderate, pleasant French town, in which the
language of the people has not the pure Parisian aroma, nor is the glory
of the boulevards of the capital emulated in its streets. These are
crooked, narrow, steep, and intricate, forming here and there excellent
sketches for a lover of street picturesque beauty; but hurtful to the
feet with their small, round-topped paving stones, and not always as
clean as pedestrian ladies might desire.
And now I would ask my readers to join me at the morning table d’hôte at
the Hotel des Ambassadeurs. It will of course be understood that this
does not mean a breakfast in the ordinary fashion of England, consisting
of tea or coffee, bread and butter, and perhaps a boiled egg. It
comprises all the requisites for a composite dinner, excepting soup; and
as one gets farther south in France, this meal is called dinner. It is,
however, eaten without any prejudice to another similar and somewhat
longer meal at six or seven o’clock, which, when the above name is taken
up by the earlier enterprise, is styled supper.
The déjeûner, or dinner, at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs, on the morning in
question, though very elaborate, was not a very gay affair. There were
some fourteen persons present, of whom half were residents in the town,
men employed in some official capacity, who found this to be the
cheapest, the most luxurious, and to them the most comfortable mode of
living. They clustered together at the head of the table, and as they
were customary guests at the house, they talked their little talk
together—it was very little—and made the most of the good things before
them. Then there were two or three commis-voyageurs, a chance traveller
or two, and an English lady with a young daughter. The English lady sat
next to one of the accustomed guests; but he, unlike the others, held
converse with her rather than with them. Our story at present has
reference only to that lady and to that gentleman.
Place aux dames. We will speak first of the lady, whose name was Mrs.
Thompson. She was, shall I say, a young woman of about thirty-six. In
so saying, I am perhaps creating a prejudice against her in the minds of
some readers, as they will, not unnaturally, suppose her, after such an
announcement, to be in truth over forty. Any such prejudice will be
unjust. I would have it believed that thirty-six was the outside, not
the inside of her age. She was good-looking, lady-like, and considering
that she was an Englishwoman, fairly well dressed. She was inclined to
be rather full in her person, but perhaps not more so than is becoming to
ladies at her time of life. She had rings on her fingers and a brooch on
her bosom which were of some value, and on the back of her head she wore
a jaunty small lace cap, which seemed to tell, in conjunction with her
other appointments, that her circumstances were comfortable.
The little girl who sat next to her was the youngest of her two
daughters, and might be about thirteen years of age. Her name was
Matilda, but infantine circumstances had invested her with the nickname
of Mimmy, by which her mother always called her. A nice, pretty, playful
little girl was Mimmy Thompson, wearing two long tails of plaited hair
hanging, behind her head, and inclined occasionally to be rather loud in
her sport.
Mrs. Thompson had another and an elder daughter, now some fifteen years
old, who was at school in Le Puy; and it was with reference to her
tuition that Mrs. Thompson had taken up a temporary residence at the
Hôtel des Ambassadeurs in that town. Lilian Thompson was occasionally
invited down to dine or breakfast at the inn, and was visited daily at
her school by her mother.
“When I’m sure that she’ll do, I shall leave her there, and go back to
England,” Mrs. Thompson had said, not in the purest French, to the
neighbour who always sat next to her at the table d’hôte, the gentleman,
namely, to whom we have above alluded. But still she had remained at Le
Puy a month, and did not go; a circumstance which was considered
singular, but by no means unpleasant, both by the innkeeper and by the
gentleman in question.
The facts, as regarded Mrs. Thompson, were as follows:—She was the widow
of a gentleman who had served for many years in the civil service of the
East Indies, and who, on dying, had left her a comfortable income of—it
matters not how many pounds, but constituting quite a sufficiency to
enable her to live at her ease and educate her daughters.
Her children had been sent home to England before her husband’s death,
and after that event she had followed them; but there, though she was
possessed of moderate wealth, she had no friends and few acquaintances,
and after a little while she had found life to be rather dull. Her
customs were not those of England, nor were her propensities English;
therefore she had gone abroad, and having received some recommendation of
this school at Le Puy, had made her way thither. As it appeared to her
that she really enjoyed more consideration at Le Puy than had been
accorded to her either at Torquay or Leamington, there she remained from
day to day. The total payment required at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs was
but six francs daily for herself and three and a half for her little
girl; and where else could she live with a better junction of economy and
comfort? And then the gentleman who always sat next to her was so
exceedingly civil!
The gentleman’s name was M. Lacordaire. So much she knew, and had
learned to call him by his name very frequently. Mimmy, too, was quite
intimate with M. Lacordaire; but nothing more than his name was known of
him. But M. Lacordaire carried a general letter of recommendation in his
face, manner, gait, dress, and tone of voice. In all these respects
there was nothing left to be desired; and, in addition to this, he was
decorated, and wore the little red ribbon of the Legion of Honour,
ingeniously twisted into the shape of a small flower.
M. Lacordaire might be senior in age to Mrs. Thompson by about ten years,
nor had he about him any of the airs or graces of a would-be young man.
His hair, which he wore very short, was grizzled, as was also the small
pretence of a whisker which came down about as far as the middle of his
ear; but the tuft on his chin was still brown, without a gray hair. His
eyes were bright and tender, his voice was low and soft, his hands were
very white, his clothes were always new and well fitting, and a
better-brushed hat could not be seen out of Paris, nor perhaps in it.
Now, during the weeks which Mrs. Thompson had passed at La Puy, the
acquaintance which she had formed with M. Lacordaire had progressed
beyond the prolonged meals in the salle à manger. He had occasionally
sat beside her evening table as she took her English cup of tea in her
own room, her bed being duly screened off in its distant niche by
becoming curtains; and then he had occasionally walked beside her, as he
civilly escorted her to the lions of the place; and he had once
accompanied her, sitting on the back seat of a French voiture, when she
had gone forth to see something of the surrounding country.
On all such occasions she had been accompanied by one of her daughters,
and the world of Le Puy had had nothing material to say against her. But
still the world of Le Puy had whispered a little, suggesting that M.
Lacordaire knew very well what he was about. But might not Mrs. Thompson
also know as well what she was about? At any rate, everything had gone
on very pleasantly since the acquaintance had been made. And now, so
much having been explained, we will go back to the elaborate breakfast at
the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs.
Mrs. Thompson, holding Mimmy by the hand, walked into the room some few
minutes after the last bell had been rung, and took the place which was
now hers by custom. The gentlemen who constantly frequented the house
all bowed to her, but M. Lacordaire rose from his seat and offered her
his hand.
“And how is Mees Meemy this morning?” said he; for ’twas thus he always
pronounced her name.
Miss Mimmy, answering for herself, declared that she was very well, and
suggested that M. Lacordaire should give her a fig from off a dish that
was placed immediately before him on the table. This M. Lacordaire did,
presenting it very elegantly between his two fingers, and making a little
bow to the little lady as he did so.
“Fie, Mimmy!” said her mother; “why do you ask for the things before the
waiter brings them round?”
“But, mamma,” said Mimmy, speaking English, “M. Lacordaire always gives
me a fig every morning.”
“M. Lacordaire always spoils you, I think,” answered Mrs. Thompson, in
French. And then they went thoroughly to work at their breakfast.
During the whole meal M. Lacordaire attended assiduously to his
neighbour; and did so without any evil result, except that one Frenchman
with a black moustache, at the head of the table, trod on the toe of
another Frenchman with another black moustache—winking as he made the
sign—just as M. Lacordaire, having selected a bunch of grapes, put it on
Mrs. Thompson’s plate with infinite grace. But who among us all is free
from such impertinences as these?
“But madame really must see the château of Prince Polignac before she
leaves Le Puy,” said M. Lacordaire.
“The château of who?” asked Mimmy, to whose young ears the French words
were already becoming familiar.
“Prince Polignac, my dear. Well, I really don’t know, M. Lacordaire;—I
have seen a great deal of the place already, and I shall be going now
very soon; probably in a day or two,” said Mrs. Thompson.
“But madame must positively see the château,” said M. Lacordaire, very
impressively; and then after a pause he added, “If madame will have the
complaisance to commission me to procure a carriage for this afternoon,
and will allow me the honour to be her guide, I shall consider myself one
of the most fortunate of men.”
“Oh, yes, mamma, do go,” said Mimmy, clapping her hands. “And it is
Thursday, and Lilian can go with us.”
“Be quiet, Mimmy, do. Thank you, no, M. Lacordaire. I could not go
to-day; but I am extremely obliged by your politeness.”
M. Lacordaire still pressed the matter, and Mrs. Thompson still declined
till it was time to rise from the table. She then declared that she did
not think it possible that she should visit the château before she left
Le Puy; but that she would give him an answer at dinner.
The most tedious time in the day to Mrs. Thompson were the two hours
after breakfast. At one o’clock she daily went to the school, taking
Mimmy, who for an hour or two shared her sister’s lessons. This and her
little excursions about the place, and her shopping, managed to make away
with her afternoon. Then in the evening, she generally saw something of
M. Lacordaire. But those two hours after breakfast were hard of killing.
On this occasion, when she gained her own room, she as usual placed Mimmy
on the sofa with a needle. Her custom then was to take up a novel; but
on this morning she sat herself down in her arm-chair, and resting her
head upon her hand and elbow, began to turn over certain circumstances in
her mind.
“Mamma,” said Mimmy, “why won’t you go with M. Lacordaire to that place
belonging to the prince? Prince—Polly something, wasn’t it?”
“Mind your work, my dear,” said Mrs. Thompson.
“But I do so wish you’d go, mamma. What was the prince’s name?”
“Polignac.”
“Mamma, ain’t princes very great people?”
“Yes, my dear; sometimes.”
“Is Prince Polly-nac like our Prince Alfred?”
“No, my dear; not at all. At least, I suppose not.”
“Is his mother a queen?”
“No, my dear.”
“Then his father must be a king?”
“No, my dear. It is quite a different thing here. Here in France they
have a great many princes.”
“Well, at any rate I should like to see a prince’s château; so I do hope
you’ll go.” And then there was a pause. “Mamma, could it come to pass,
here in France, that M. Lacordaire should ever be a prince?”
“M. Lacordaire a prince! No; don’t talk such nonsense, but mind your
work.”
“Isn’t M. Lacordaire a very nice man? Ain’t you very fond of him?”
To this question Mrs. Thompson made no answer.
“Mamma,” continued Mimmy, after a moment’s pause, “won’t you tell me
whether you are fond of M. Lacordaire? I’m quite sure of this,—that he’s
very fond of you.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Mrs. Thompson, who could not bring
herself to refrain from the question.
“Because he looks at you in that way, mamma, and squeezes your hand.”
“Nonsense, child,” said Mrs.
| 561.116264 | 2,670 |
2023-11-16 18:25:07.9189340
| 400 | 97 |
E-text prepared by Larry B. Harrison, David Edwards, 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/cu31924027805864
EVENING TALES
Done into English from the French of
FRÉDÉRIC ORTOLI
by
Joel Chandler Harris
Author of "Uncle Remus"
Authorized Edition
New York
Charles Scribner's Sons
1919
Copyright, 1893, by
Charles Scribner's Sons
CONTENTS
I PAGE
A FRENCH TAR-BABY, 1
II
TEENCHY DUCK, 13
III
MR. SNAIL AND BROTHER WOLF, 34
IV
THE LION'S SECRET, 39
V
THE KING AND THE LAPWINGS, 64
VI
THE ROOSTER, THE CAT, AND THE REAP-HOOK, 75
VII
THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND, 101
VIII
BROTHER TIGER AND DADDY SHEEP, 109
IX
"JUMP IN MY SACK!" 128
X
A SEARCH FOR A FRIEND, 155
XI
A CHILD OF THE ROSES, 163
XII
THE KING OF THE LIONS, 189
XIII
THE VIZIER, THE MONKEY, THE LION, AND
THE SERPENT, 198
XIV
THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS, 222
XV
| 561.238344 | 2,671 |
2023-11-16 18:25:08.1328260
| 1,146 | 375 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Heroes of the Nations
A Series of Biographical Studies
presenting the lives and work
of certain representative
historical characters, about
whom have gathered the
traditions of the nations to
which they belong, and who
have, in the majority of
instances, been accepted as
types of the several national
ideals.
FOR FULL LIST SEE END OF THIS VOLUME
_Heroes of the Nations_
EDITED BY
Evelyn Abbott, M.A.
FELLOW OF BALLIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD
FACTA DUCIS VIVENT, OPEROSAQUE GLORIA RERUM.—OVID, IN LIVIAM 265.
THE HERO’S DEEDS AND HARD-WON FAME SHALL LIVE.
OLIVER CROMWELL
[Illustration:
OLIVER CROMWELL.
(_From a painting by an unknown artist, in the National Portrait
Gallery._)
]
OLIVER CROMWELL
AND THE RULE OF THE PURITANS IN ENGLAND
BY
CHARLES FIRTH, M.A.
BALLIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
COPYRIGHT, 1900
BY
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
PREFACE
This _Life of Cromwell_ is in part based on an article contributed by
the author to the _Dictionary of National Biography_ in 1888, but
embodies the result of later researches, and of recently discovered
documents such as the Clarke Papers. The battle plans have been
specially drawn for this volume by Mr. B. V. Darbishire, and in two
cases differ considerably from those generally accepted as correct. The
scheme of this series does not permit a discussion of the reasons why
these alterations have been made, but the evidence concerning the
battles in question has been carefully examined, and any divergence from
received accounts is intentional. The reader who wishes to see this
subject discussed at length is referred to a study of the battle of
Marston Moor printed in Volume XII. of the _Transactions of the Royal
Historical Society_ (new series), and to a similar paper on Dunbar which
will appear in Volume XIV.
The quotations from Cromwell’s letters or speeches are, where necessary,
freely abridged.
C. H. F.
OXFORD, Feb. 6, 1900.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
EARLY LIFE, 1599–1629 1
CHAPTER II
THE PREPARATION FOR THE CIVIL WAR, 1629–1640 19
CHAPTER III
THE LONG PARLIAMENT, 1640–1642 47
CHAPTER IV
THE FIRST CAMPAIGN, 1642 69
CHAPTER V
CROMWELL IN THE EASTERN ASSOCIATION, 1643 86
CHAPTER VI
MARSTON MOOR, 1644 102
CHAPTER VII
NASEBY AND LANGPORT, 1645–1646 121
CHAPTER VIII
PRESBYTERIANS AND INDEPENDENTS, 1642–1647 142
CHAPTER IX
ARMY AND PARLIAMENT, 1647–1648 164
CHAPTER X
THE SECOND CIVIL WAR, 1648 193
CHAPTER XI
CROMWELL AND THE KING’S EXECUTION, 1648–1649 207
CHAPTER XII
THE REPUBLIC AND ITS ENEMIES, 1649 232
CHAPTER XIII
IRELAND, 1649–1650 255
CHAPTER XIV
CROMWELL AND SCOTLAND, 1650–1651 276
CHAPTER XV
THE END OF THE LONG PARLIAMENT, 1651–1653 300
CHAPTER XVI
THE FOUNDATION OF THE PROTECTORATE, 1653 326
CHAPTER XVII
CROMWELL’S DOMESTIC POLICY, 1654–1658 346
CHAPTER XVIII
CROMWELL’S FOREIGN POLICY, 1654–1658 370
CHAPTER XIX
CROMWELL’S COLONIAL POLICY 390
CHAPTER XX
CROMWELL AND HIS PARLIAMENTS 409
CHAPTER XXI
THE DEATH OF CROMWELL, 1658–1660 433
CHAPTER XXII
CROMWELL AND HIS FAMILY 453
CHAPTER XXIII
EPILOGUE 467
INDEX 487
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
OL
| 561.452236 | 2,672 |
2023-11-16 18:25:08.2250970
| 1,210 | 385 |
6)***
E-text prepared by Louise Hope, Chris Curnow, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
(http://archive.org/details/toronto)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 42239-h.htm or 42239-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42239/42239-h/42239-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42239/42239-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See
http://archive.org/details/pastonlettersad05gairuoft
Project Gutenberg has the other volumes of this work.
Volume I: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43348
Volume II: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40989
Volume III: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41024
Volume IV: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41081
Volume VI, Part 1 (Letters, Chronological Table): see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42240
Volume VI, Part 2 (Index): see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42494
Transcriber's note:
This text file is intended for users whose text readers cannot
display the Unicode/UTF-8 version. The oe-ligature is displayed
as "oe." One Greek phrase is shown in transliteration between
number signs (#O thea#).
The Gairdner edition of the Paston Letters was printed in six
volumes. Each volume is a separate e-text; Volume VI is further
divided into two e-texts, Letters and Index. Volume I, the
General Introduction, will be released after all other volumes,
matching the original publication order.
Except for footnotes and sidenotes, all brackets are in the
original, as are parenthetical question marks and (_sic_)
notations. Series of dots representing damaged text are shown
as in the printed original.
The year was shown in a sidenote at the top of each page; this
has been merged with the sidenote at the beginning of each
Letter or Abstract.
A carat character is used to denote superscription. The
character(s) following the carat is superscripted (example:
vj^ti). Braces { } are used only when the superscripted
text is immediately followed by non-superscripted letters
or period (full stop). Subscripts (rare) are shown with
single lines _.Errata and other transcriber's notes are
shown in [[double brackets]].
Footnotes have their original numbering, with added page
number to make them usable with the full Index. They are
grouped at the end of each Letter or Abstract.
Typographical errors are listed at the end of each Letter,
after the footnotes. In the primary text, errors were only
corrected if they are clearly editorial, such as missing
italics, or mechanical, such as u-for-n misprints. Italic
"d" misprinted as "a" was a recurring problem, especially
in Volume IV. The word "invisible" means that there is
an appropriately sized blank space, but the letter or
punctuation mark itself is missing. The form "corrected
by author" refers to the Errata printed at the end of the
Letters, in Volume VI.
Specifics: The spelling "Jhon" is not an error. Gresham and
Tresham are different people. Conversely, the inconsistent
spelling of the name "Lipyate" or "Lipgate" in footnotes is
unchanged. In this volume, the spelling "apostyle" for
"apostille" is used consistently.
Note that the printed book used z to represent original small
letter yogh. This has not been changed for the e-text.
This edition, published by arrangement with Messrs. ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE
AND COMPANY, LIMITED, is strictly limited to 650 copies for Great
Britain and America, of which only 600 sets are for sale, and are
numbered 1 to 600.
No. 47
[[The number 47 is handwritten.]]
* * * * *
* * * *
THE PASTON LETTERS
A.D. 1422-1509
* * * *
* * * * *
THE PASTON LETTERS
A.D. 1422-1509
New Complete Library Edition
Edited with Notes and an Introduction
by
JAMES GAIRDNER
of the Public Record Office
_VOLUME V_
London
Chatto & Windus
[Decoration]
Exeter
James G. Commin
1904
Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
THE PASTON LETTERS
_Edward IV_
695
WILLIAM EBESHAM TO SIR JOHN PASTON[1-1]
_To my moost worshupfull maister, Sir John Paston, Knyght._
[Sidenote: 1469(?)]
My moost woorshupfull and moost speciall maister, with all my servyce
moost lowly I recomande unto your gode maist
| 561.544507 | 2,673 |
2023-11-16 18:25:08.2300130
| 396 | 90 |
ORGANIZATION OF A REGIMENT OF VOLUNTEERS IN 1862***
E-text prepared by Jeannie Howse and Friend and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page
images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/storyofraisingor00spea
Military Order of the Loyal Legion of the United States.
Commandery of the District of Columbia.
War Papers.
46
THE STORY OF THE RAISING AND ORGANIZATION OF A
REGIMENT OF VOLUNTEERS IN 1862.
Prepared by Companion
Brevet Brigadier General
ELLIS SPEAR,
U.S. Volunteers,
And Read at the Stated Meeting of March 4, 1903.
The Story of the Raising and Organization of a Regiment of Volunteers
in 1862.
Heretofore papers which have been read before this Commandery have
related to personal reminiscences of campaigns and battles, with all
the interest which accompanies the personal element in such affairs.
The preservation of these details is of great importance, not only for
the special interest which attaches to them, but because they
illustrate the larger actions and will be of value to future
generations, as showing the very body and features of the time. How
valuable these minor matters are, we perceive plainly by the use made
of them as they are found in autobiographies and diaries of former
generations. The knowledge of the manner in which people lived and
thought and acted in private life throws light upon public affairs and
public characters. It is interesting, and not unprofitable, to know
that the Father of his Country in some wrathful mood swore roundly;
| 561.549423 | 2,674 |
2023-11-16 18:25:08.2383650
| 435 | 64 |
Produced by StevenGibbs, Christine P. Travers and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE
SURRENDER OF NAPOLEON
BEING THE
NARRATIVE OF THE SURRENDER OF BUONAPARTE, AND
OF HIS RESIDENCE ON BOARD H.M.S. BELLEROPHON,
WITH A DETAIL OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS THAT
OCCURRED IN THAT SHIP BETWEEN THE 24th OF MAY
AND THE 8th OF AUGUST 1815
BY
REAR-ADMIRAL SIR FREDERICK LEWIS MAITLAND, K.C.B.
_A NEW EDITION EDITED, WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR, BY_
WILLIAM KIRK DICKSON
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MCMIV
_All Rights reserved_
NOTE.
After Sir Frederick Maitland's death in 1839 his papers passed into
the hands of Lady Maitland, who liferented his property of Lindores in
Fife until her death in 1865. They then passed with the property to
Sir Frederick's nephew, Captain James Maitland, R.N., and on his death
to his brother, Rear-Admiral Lewis Maitland, my father, from whom they
came to me.
The preparation of the present volume has been undertaken by Mr.
Dickson at my request.
FREDERICK LEWIS MAITLAND.
LINDORES, _December 9, 1903_.
PREFACE.
"You are publishing a great and interesting national document.... The
whole narrative is as fine, manly, and explicit an account as ever was
given of so interesting a transaction." So wrote Sir Walter Scott to
Captain Maitland after reading the manuscript of his _Narrative of the
Surrender of Buonaparte_. It is undoubtedly
| 561.557775 | 2,675 |
2023-11-16 18:25:08.6169520
| 375 | 96 |
Produced by Greg Bergquist and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
The Badminton Library
OF
SPORTS AND PASTIMES
EDITED BY
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BEAUFORT, K.G.
ASSISTED BY ALFRED E. T. WATSON
_BIG GAME SHOOTING_
II.
[Illustration: HAND TO HAND WORK]
BIG GAME SHOOTING
BY
CLIVE PHILLIPPS-WOLLEY
WITH CONTRIBUTIONS BY
LIEUT.-COLONEL R. HEBER PERCY, ARNOLD PIKE,
MAJOR ALGERNON C. HEBER PERCY, W. A. BAILLIE-GROHMAN,
SIR HENRY POTTINGER, BART., EARL OF KILMOREY, ABEL CHAPMAN,
WALTER J. BUCK, AND ST. GEORGE LITTLEDALE
[Illustration]
VOL. II.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES WHYMPER
AND FROM PHOTOGRAPHS_
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1894
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ARCTIC HUNTING
_By Arnold Pike._ 1
II. THE CAUCASUS
_By Clive Phillipps-Wolley._ 22
III. MOUNTAIN GAME OF THE CAUCASUS
_By Clive Phillipps-Wolley
| 561.936362 | 2,676 |
2023-11-16 18:25:08.7790560
| 381 | 81 |
Produced by Garrett Alley, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
LEGAL STATUS
OF
WOMEN IN IOWA.
COMPILED BY
JENNIE L. WILSON, LL. B.
Member of the Polk County Bar.
DES MOINES:
IOWA PRINTING COMPANY.
1894.
Preface.
This book has been prepared for the purpose of presenting to the women
of Iowa, in a brief and concise form, those laws which pertain to
subjects in which they are most deeply interested, and about which there
is a strong and growing demand for certain and accurate information.
In this age of general intelligence, when learning in some degree is so
readily attainable, the maxim, that "Ignorance of the law excuses no
one," has a measure of justice in it, which could not be claimed for it
in former times, and it is most certainly true that, "As the subjects of
law, if not as its makers, all ought to know enough to avoid its
penalties and reap its benefits."
Every woman should understand the law of her own state concerning
marriage, divorce, the care and custody of children, and the mutual
rights and duties of husband and wife incident to the marriage relation.
She should know something of the law of minors and guardianship, of
administration, and descent of property, and her knowledge should
certainly embrace that class of crimes which necessarily includes her
own sex, either as the injured party, or as _particeps criminis_.
In the arrangement of this work, a very brief synopsis of the common law
upon these subjects is given, as the principles of the common law
underlie our entire statute law, and a knowledge of the former is
absolutely essential to render much of the latter intelligible.
| 562.098466 | 2,677 |
2023-11-16 18:25:09.7663670
| 384 | 99 |
Produced by Colin Bell, Jonathan Ah Kit, Greg Bergquist
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note
The punctuation and spelling from the original text have been faithfully
preserved. Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
The Economist:
OR
THE POLITICAL, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, AND FREE-TRADE JOURNAL.
"If we make ourselves too little for the sphere of our duty; if, on
the contrary, we do not stretch and expand our minds to the compass
of their object; be well assured that everything about us will
dwindle by degrees, until at length our concerns are shrunk to the
dimensions of our minds. _It is not a predilection to mean, sordid,
home-bred cares that will avert the consequences of a false
estimation of our interest, or prevent the shameful dilapidation
into which a great empire must fall by mean reparation upon mighty
ruins._"--BURKE.
No. 3. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1843. PRICE 6_d._
CONTENTS.
Our Brazilian Trade and the Anti-Slavery Party 33
The Fallacy of Protection 34
Agriculture (No. 2.) 35
Court and Aristocracy 36
Music and Musicales 36
The Metropolis 37
The Provinces 37
Ireland 37
Scotland 38
Wales 38
Foreign:
France 38
Spain 38
Austria and Italy 38
Turkey 38
Egypt 39
| 563.085777 | 2,678 |
2023-11-16 18:25:10.8838010
| 1,912 | 72 |
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 illustrations,
many of which are in color.
See 53495-h.htm or 53495-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53495/53495-h/53495-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53495/53495-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/italianvillasthe00whar
Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
ITALIAN VILLAS AND THEIR GARDENS
[Illustration: VILLA CAMPI, NEAR FLORENCE]
ITALIAN VILLAS AND THEIR GARDENS
by
EDITH WHARTON
Illustrated with Pictures by Maxfield Parrish
and by Photographs
[Illustration]
New York
The Century Co.
1905
Copyright, 1903, 1904, by
THE CENTURY CO.
Published November, 1904
The De Vinne Press
TO
VERNON LEE
WHO, BETTER THAN ANY ONE ELSE, HAS UNDERSTOOD AND INTERPRETED THE
GARDEN-MAGIC OF ITALY
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 5
I
FLORENTINE VILLAS 19
II
SIENESE VILLAS 63
III
ROMAN VILLAS 81
IV
VILLAS NEAR ROME
I CAPRAROLA AND LANTE 127
II VILLA D’ESTE 139
III FRASCATI 148
V
GENOESE VILLAS 173
VI
LOMBARD VILLAS 197
VII
VILLAS OF VENETIA 231
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Villa Campi, near Florence _Frontispiece_
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
The Reservoir, Villa Falconieri, Frascati 4
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
The Cascade, Villa Torlonia, Frascati 9
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Fountain of Venus, Villa Petraja, Florence 18
From a Photograph.
Villa Gamberaia at Settignano, near Florence 20
Drawn by C. A. Vanderhoof, from a Photograph.
Boboli Garden, Florence 24
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Entrance to Upper Garden, Boboli Garden, Florence 27
From a Photograph.
Cypress Alley, Boboli Garden, Florence 31
From a Photograph.
Ilex-walk, Boboli Garden, Florence 36
From a Photograph.
Villa Gamberaia, near Florence 39
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
View of Amphitheatre, Boboli Garden, Florence 44
From a Photograph.
Villa Corsini, Florence 49
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Vicobello, Siena 62
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
La Palazzina (Villa Gori), Siena 67
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
The Theatre at La Palazzina, Siena 73
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
The Dome of St. Peter’s, from the Vatican Gardens 80
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Entrance to Forecourt, Villa Borghese, Rome 87
From a Photograph.
Grotto, Villa di Papa Giulio, Rome 91
From a Photograph.
Temple of Æsculapius, Villa Borghese, Rome 96
From a Photograph.
Villa Medici, Rome 100
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Courtyard Gate of the Villa Pia, Vatican Gardens 102
Drawn by E. Denison, from a Photograph.
Villa Pia—In the Gardens of the Vatican 105
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Gateway of the Villa Borghese 108
Drawn by E. Denison, from a Photograph.
Villa Chigi, Rome 111
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Parterres on Terrace, Villa Belrespiro (Pamphily-Doria), 116
Rome
From a Photograph.
View from Lower Garden, Villa Belrespiro 121
(Pamphily-Doria), Rome
From a Photograph.
Villa d’Este, Tivoli 126
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Caprarola 129
From a retouched Photograph.
The Casino, Villa Farnese, Caprarola 133
From a Photograph.
Villa Lante, Bagnaia 138
From a Photograph.
The Pool, Villa d’Este, Tivoli 141
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Lante, Bagnaia 146
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Cascade and Rotunda, Villa Aldobrandini, Frascati 149
From a Photograph.
Garden of Villa Lancellotti, Frascati 153
From a Photograph.
Casino, Villa Falconieri, Frascati 157
From a Photograph.
The Entrance, Villa Falconieri, Frascati 161
From a Photograph.
Villa Lancellotti, Frascati 165
From a Photograph.
Villa Scassi, Genoa 172
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
A Garden-niche, Villa Scassi, Genoa 181
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Cicogna, Bisuschio 196
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Isola Bella, Lake Maggiore 203
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
In the Gardens of Isola Bella, Lake Maggiore 210
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Cicogna, from the Terrace above the House 216
From a Photograph.
Villa Pliniana, Lake Como 221
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Iron Gates of the Villa Alario (now Visconti di 224
Saliceto)
Drawn by E. Denison, from a Photograph.
Railing of the Villa Alario 225
Drawn by Malcolm Fraser, from a Photograph.
Gateway of the Botanic Garden, Padua 230
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
View at Val San Zibio, near Battaglia 235
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Plan of the Botanic Garden, Padua 239
Drawn by E. Denison, from Sketch by the Author.
Val San Zibio, near Battaglia 241
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Gateway, Villa Pisani, Strà 244
Drawn by E. Denison, from a Photograph.
Villa Valmarana, Vicenza 247
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
ITALIAN VILLAS AND THEIR GARDENS
[Illustration: THE RESERVOIR, VILLA FALCONIERI, FRASCATI]
ITALIAN VILLAS AND THEIR GARDENS
INTRODUCTION
ITALIAN GARDEN-MAGIC
Though it is an exaggeration to say that there are no flowers in Italian
gardens, yet to enjoy and appreciate the Italian garden-craft one must
always bear in mind that it is independent of floriculture.
The Italian garden does not exist for its flowers; its flowers exist for
it: they are a late and infrequent adjunct to its beauties, a
parenthetical grace counting only as one more touch in the general
effect of enchantment. This is no doubt partly explained by the
difficulty of cultivating any but spring flowers in so hot and dry a
climate, and the result has been a wonderful development of the more
permanent effects to be obtained from the three other factors in
garden-composition—marble, water and perennial verdure—and the
achievement, by their skilful blending, of a charm independent of the
seasons.
It is hard to explain to the modern garden-lover, whose whole conception
of the charm of gardens is formed of successive pictures of
flower-loveliness, how this effect of enchantment can be produced by
anything so dull and monotonous as a mere combination of clipped green
and stonework.
The traveller returning from Italy, with his eyes and imagination full
of the ineffable Italian garden
| 564.203211 | 2,679 |
2023-11-16 18:25:10.9542710
| 1,095 | 423 |
Produced by Cornell University, Joshua Hutchinson, Steve Schulze
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| "The Printing House of the United States." |
| |
| GEO. F. NESBITT &CO., |
| |
| General JOB PRINTERS, |
| BLANK BOOK Manufacturers, |
| STATIONERS, Wholesale and Retail, |
| LITHOGRAPHIC Engravers and Printers, |
| COPPER-PLATE Engravers and Printers, |
| CARD Manufacturers, |
| ENVELOPE Manufacturers, |
| FINE CUT and COLOR Printers. |
| |
| 163,165,167, and 169 PEARL ST., |
| |
| 73, 75, 77, and 79 PINE ST., New-York. |
| |
| ADVANTAGES--All on the same premises, and under the |
| immediate supervision of the proprietors. |
| |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| TO NEWS-DEALERS. |
| |
| PUNCHINELLO'S MONTHLY. |
| |
| THE FIVE NUMBERS FOR APRIL, |
| |
| Bound in a Handsome Cover, |
| |
| Will be ready May 2d. Price, Fifty Cents. |
| |
| THE TRADE |
| |
| SUPPLIED BY THE |
| |
| AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, |
| |
| Who are now prepared to receive Orders. |
| |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| HARRISON BRADFORD & CO.'S |
| |
| STEEL PENS. |
| |
| These pens are of a finer quality, more durable, and cheaper |
| than any other Pen in the market. Special attention is |
| called to the following grades, as being better suited for |
| business purposes than any Pen manufactured. The |
| |
| "505," "22," and the "Anti-Corrosive," |
| |
| We recommend for bank and office use. |
| |
| D. APPLETON &. CO., |
| |
| _Sole Agents for United States_ |
| |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: Vol. 1 No. 5]
PUNCHINELLO
SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 1870.
PUBLISHED BY THE
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY,
83 NASSAU STREET, NEW-YORK.
* * * * *
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| _CONANT'S PATENT BINDERS for "Punchinello," to preserve the |
| paper for binding, will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of |
| One Dollar, by "Punchinello Publishing Company," 83 Nassau |
| Street, New-York City._ |
| |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| PRANG'S CHROMOS are celebrated for their close resemblance |
| to Oil Paintings. Sold in All Stores throughout the World. |
| |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| PRANG'S WEEKLY BULLETIN OF CHROMOS.--"Easter Morning" |
| "Family Scene in Pompeii" "Whittier's Birthplace," |
| Illustrated Catalogue sent, on receipt of stamp, by L. PRANG |
| & CO., Boston. |
| |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| APPLICATIONS FOR ADVERTISING IN |
| |
| "PUNCHINELLO" |
| |
| SHOULD BE ADDRESSED TO |
| |
| J. NICKINSON, |
| |
| Room No. 4, |
| |
| 83 NASSAU STREET. |
| |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| The Greatest Horse Book ever Published. |
| |
| HIRAM WOODRUFF |
| |
| ON THE |
| |
| TROTTING HORSE OF AMERICA! |
| |
| _How to Train, and Drive Him_. |
| |
| With Reminiscences of the Trotting Turf.
| 564.273681 | 2,680 |
2023-11-16 18:25:11.0038970
| 1,201 | 426 |
Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by Cornell University Digital Collections.)
THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY
A MAGAZINE OF
_Literature, Science, Art, and Politics._
VOLUME XVI.
[Illustration]
BOSTON:
TICKNOR AND FIELDS,
124 TREMONT STREET.
LONDON: TRUeBNER AND COMPANY.
1865.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by TICKNOR AND
FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of
Massachusetts.
PRINTED BY
S. Chism,--Franklin Printing House,
112 Congress Street, Boston.
ELECTROTYPED BY WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO.,
CAMBRIDGE.
CONTENTS.
Page
Assassination _C. C. Hazewell_ 85
Bentham, Jeremy _John Neal_ 575
Blackwood, William _John Neal_ 660
Books for our Children _Samuel Osgood_ 724
Bright, John, and the English Radicals _G. W. Towle_ 177
Candle-Ends, A Paper of _Charles J. Sprague_ 61
Chicago Conspiracy, The 108
Chimney-Corner, The _Mrs. H. B. Stowe_ 100, 232, 347,
419, 567, 672
Clemency and Common Sense _Charles Sumner_ 745
Coupon Bonds _J. T. Trowbridge_ 257, 399
Deep-Sea Damsels _G. W. Hosmer_ 77
Doctor Johns _Donald G. Mitchell_ 66, 211,
300, 457, 546, 713
Down the River _Harriet E. Prescott_ 468
Edgeworths, A Visit to the _Mrs. John Farrar_ 356
Electric Telegraph, The Progress of the _George B. Prescott_ 605
Ellen _Author of "Life in the Iron-Mills"_ 22
Forge, The 586, 684
Gettysburg, The Field of _J. T. Trowbridge_ 616
Griffith Gaunt: or, Jealousy _Charles Reade_ 641
Hamilton, Alexander _C. C. Hazewell_ 625
Honey-Makers, Among the _Harriet E. Prescott_ 129
Jelly-Fishes, Mode of Catching _A. Agassiz_ 736
Jordan, John _Edmund Kirke_ 434
King James the First _Gail Hamilton_ 701
Libraries, The Visible and Invisible in _Mrs. R. C. Waterston_ 525
Luck of Abel Steadman, The _Author of "Life in the Iron-Mills"_ 331
Militia System, Our Future _T. W. Higginson_ 371
Mull, Around _Maria S. Cummins_ 11, 167
Needle and Garden 47, 185, 283, 419
New Art Critic, A _Eugene Benson_ 325
Old Shoes, On a Pair of _Charles J. Sprague_ 360
Procter, Adelaide Anne _Charles Dickens_ 739
Reconstruction and <DW64> Suffrage _E. P. Whipple_ 238
"Running at the Heads" 342
St. John's River, Up the _T. W. Higginson_ 311
St. Petersburg, Winter Life in _Bayard Taylor_ 34
Saints who have had Bodies _G. Reynolds_ 385
"Saul," The Author of _Bayard Taylor_ 412
Scientific Farming _Gail Hamilton_ 290
Second Capture, My _W. W. Wiltbank_ 195
Silent Friend, Letter to a 221
Strategy at the Fireside _Epes Sargent_ 151
Toepffer, Rodolphe _Mrs. H. M. Fletcher_ 556
Why the Putkammer Castle was destroyed _Robert Dale Owen_ 513
Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship _D. A. Wasson_ 273, 448
Young Housekeeper, Letter to a _C. P. Hawes_ 535
Young Men in History _E. P. Whipple_ 1
POETRY.
Page
Accomplices _T. B. Aldrich_ 107
Agassiz, A Farewell to _O. W. Holmes_ 584
Bay Ridge, Long Island, At _T. B. Aldrich_ 341
Beyond _J. T. Trowbridge_ 744
Changeling, The _John G. Whittier_ 20
Countess Laura _George H. Boker_ 143
Dios Te De _C. C. Coxe_ 737
Lincoln, Abraham _H. H. Brownell_
| 564.323307 | 2,681 |
2023-11-16 18:25:11.0468850
| 1,092 | 502 |
Produced by Emmy and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet
Archive/American Libraries.)
THE EMPTY SLEEVE:
OR THE
LIFE AND HARDSHIPS
OF
HENRY H. MEACHAM,
IN THE
UNION ARMY.
_BY HIMSELF._
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.:
SOLD FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE AUTHOR.
PRICE, 25 CENTS.
PREFACE.
READERS, in writing this book, I do not intend to bring before you a
work of ability; but simply to describe a few of the many scenes that I
passed through while in the Army of the Potomac and in the hospital. It
is true, that I did not suffer as some of our soldiers did; but having
lost my right arm, which excludes me from most kinds of work, I have
taken this method of gaining a living. I have myself and wife to care
for, and my wife's health being poor, makes it still harder for me to
get along; and thus, by writing this book, I hope to place myself and
wife in comfortable circumstances. With these few remarks, I throw
myself upon the generosity of the public, thanking them for the kindness
I have already received, and assuring them that I shall always be
grateful for their aid in the support of myself and wife.
HENRY H. MEACHAM.
THE EMPTY SLEEVE.
AT the breaking out of the Great Rebellion, I was engaged at
carriage-making in the town of Russell, in Massachusetts, but thought it
my duty to enter the service in defence of my country, and do what
little I could to keep traitors from trampling the good old flag under
their feet. I went and was examined, but was rejected. I came back with
downcast feelings, but was determined to try again. As time rolled on,
and my health improved, I tried again for a soldier's life, but without
success. I little knew the hardships and perils, of active service, and
thought it very pretty sport. But it was not the novelty of the scene
that inspired me to go, but the love of my country. Finally, at my third
examination, I was accepted; and my heart beat with joy.
I left Springfield, the twelfth day of September, perhaps never to
return; and went to Long Island, in Boston Harbor. There I remained one
week; then the Transport came to take us far from our homes. Many were
the wistful glances that were cast back towards our home, where were
the ones we loved most dear; and how we longed for one more farewell
salute before we left our native State; but that could not be. The wind
was blowing hard (it makes my brain dizzy to think of it now); but we
had to go. We little knew but we should find a watery grave before
reaching the scene of action; but the weather calmed, and we had a very
pleasant voyage, and arrived at the front, where I was placed in Company
E, Thirty-second Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteers, who were lying at
Culpepper, Virginia (which is about sixty miles from Washington, and in
the direction of Richmond). Here I first commenced my life in the army.
We were not destined to remain here long; for in less than two weeks,
Lee, with his host of rebels, came marching on to Washington. Then
commenced Meade's retreat for Centreville. That was the first marching I
had done, and I then hoped it would be the last, for my feet were badly
blistered. My readers can judge for themselves how they would like to
march twenty-three hours out of twenty-four, with their feet in that
condition; but, thank God, we were two hours ahead of Lee and his army,
and it saved one of the most bloody battles of the war; for, had Lee got
the heights of Centreville, we should have been cut off from all
supplies and captured, or obliged to cut our way through the enemy's
lines.
When we arrived at Centreville, we gave three cheers, which rang through
the lines for miles, thinking that we were once ahead of Lee's time.
But many of the men that were taken sick or fell into the enemy's hands,
died, without any one to care for them, there alone, away from
friends,--wife and children, father and mother, brother and sister,
never to know what became of their husband, father, child, or brother.
Such were the scenes that occurred on this march, but they were trivial
compared to experiences that followed.
Soon after this, came the battle of the Rappahannock Station. Though
short, it left many a man lying cold in death; but we succeeded in
driving the enemy back behind their entrenchments at Mines Run. This was
near Thanksgiving time; the weather was cold and rainy, and we had to
wait some time before we could follow them. But
| 564.366295 | 2,682 |
2023-11-16 18:25:11.2081710
| 1,109 | 91 |
Produced by the Mormon Texts Project,
http://bencrowder.net/books/mtp. Volunteers: Eric Heaps
with a little help from Benjamin Bytheway and Ben Crowder.
_The_ Mormons _and the_ Theatre
OR
_The History of Theatricals in Utah_
With Reminiscences and Comments
Humorous and Critical
_By_ JOHN S. LINDSAY
SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH
1905
CHAPTER I.
In rather sharp contrast to other Christian denominations, the Mormons
believe in and are fond of dancing and the theatre. So much is this
the case that Friday evening of each week during the amusement season
is set apart by them in all the settlements throughout Mormondom for
their dance night. Their dances are generally under the supervision of
the presiding bishop and are invariably opened with prayer or
invocation, and closed or dismissed in the same manner, with a brief
return of thanks to the Almighty for the good time they have enjoyed.
The theatre is so popular among the Mormon people, that in almost
every town and settlement throughout their domains there is an amateur
dramatic company.
It is scarcely to be wondered at that Salt Lake has the enviable
distinction of being the best show town of its population in the
United States, and when we say that, we may as well say in the whole
world. It is a well established fact that Salt Lake spends more money
per capita in the theatre than any city in our country.
Such a social condition among a strictly religious people is not
little peculiar, and is due, largely, to the fact that Brigham Young
was himself fond of the dance and also of the theatre. He could "shake
a leg" with the best of them, and loved to lead the fair matrons and
maidens of his flock forth into its giddy, bewildering mazes. Certain
round dances, the waltz and polka, were always barred at dances
Brigham Young attended, and only the old-fashioned quadrilles and
cotillions and an occasional reel like Sir Roger de Coverly or the
Money Musk were tolerated by the great Mormon leader.
That Brigham Young was fond of the theatre also, and gave great
encouragement to it, his building of the Salt Lake Theatre was a
striking proof. He recognized the natural desire for innocent
amusement, and the old axiom "All work and no play makes Jack a dull
boy," had its full weight of meaning to him. Keep the people in a
pleasurable mood, then they will not be apt to brood and ponder over
the weightier concerns of life.
There may have been a stroke of this policy in Brigham Young's
amusement scheme; but whether so or not he must be credited with both
wisdom and liberality, for the policy certainly lightened the cares
and made glad the hearts of the people.
Although Salt Lake City has been the chief nursery of these twin
sources of amusement for the Mormon people, to find the cradle in
which they were first nursed into life, we will have to go back to a
time and place anterior to the settlement of Salt Lake. Back in the
days of Nauvoo, before Brigham Young was chief of the Mormon church,
under the rule of its original prophet, Joseph Smith, the Mormon
people were encouraged in the practice of dancing and going to witness
plays. Indeed, the Mormons have always been a fun-loving people; it is
recorded of their founder and prophet that he was so fond of fun that
he would often indulge in a foot race, or pulling sticks, or even a
wrestling match. He often amazed and sometimes shocked the
sensibilities of the more staid and pious members of his flock by his
antics.
Before the Mormons ever dreamed of emigrating to Utah (or Mexico, as
it was then), they had what they called a "Fun Hall," or theatre and
dance hall combined, where they mingled occasionally in the merry
dance or sat to witness a play. Then, as later in Salt Lake, their
prophet led them through the mazy evolutions of the terpsichorean
numbers and was the most conspicuous figure at all their social
gatherings.
While building temples and propagating their new revelation to the
world, the Mormons have always found time to sing and dance and play
and have a pleasant social time, excepting, of course, in their days
of sore trial. Indeed, they are an anomaly among religious sects in
this respect, and that is what has made Salt Lake City proverbially a
"great show town."
Mormonism during the Nauvoo days had numerous missionaries in the
field and many converts were added to the new faith. Among others that
were attracted to the modern Mecca to look into the claims of the new
evangel, was Thomas A. Lyne, known more familiarly among his
theatrical associates as "Tom" Lyne.
Lyne, at this time, 1842, was an actor of wide and fair repute, in the
very flush of manhood, about thirty-five years of age. He had played
leading support to Edwin Forrest, the elder Booth
| 564.527581 | 2,683 |
2023-11-16 18:25:11.5046830
| 366 | 80 |
Produced by Roger Frank, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
BY JOSEPH C. LINCOLN
Author of "The Depot Master," "Cap'n Warrens Wards,"
"Cap'n Eri," "Mr. Pratt," etc.
_With Four Illustrations_
_By_ HOWARD HEATH
A. L. BURT COMPANY
_Publishers New York_
_Copyright, 1912, by_
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Copyright, 1911, 1912, by the Curtis Publishing Company
Copyright, 1911, 1912, by the Ainslee Magazine Company
Copyright, 1912, by the Ridgeway Company
Published, April, 1912
Printed in the United States of America
----
[Illustration: _Seems to me I never saw her look prettier._]
----
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I--I MAKE TWO BETS--AND LOSE ONE OF 'EM
CHAPTER II--WHAT A "PULLET" DID TO A PEDIGREE
CHAPTER III--I GET INTO POLITICS
CHAPTER IV--HOW I MADE A CLAM CHOWDER; AND WHAT A CLAM CHOWDER MADE
OF ME
CHAPTER V--A TRAP AND WHAT THE "RAT" CAUGHT IN IT
CHAPTER VI--I RUN AFOUL OF COUSIN LEMUEL
CHAPTER VII--THE FORCE AND THE OBJECT
CHAPTER VIII--ARMENIANS AND INJUNS; LIKEWISE BY-PRODUCTS
CHAPTER IX--ROSES--BY ANOTHER NAME
| 564.824093 | 2,684 |
2023-11-16 18:25:11.5516090
| 1,730 | 104 |
LIGHT OF SALVATION***
Transcribed from the 1810 Ann Kemmish edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
SPIRITUAL VICTORIES,
THROUGH THE
_Light of Salvation_.
* * * * *
BEING THE SUBSTANCE OF A
SERMON,
Preached on SUNDAY, March the 11th, 1810,
AT THE
OBELISK CHAPEL,
* * * * *
BY J. CHURCH,
Minster of the Gospel.
* * * * *
_PUBLISHED BY REQUEST_.
* * * * *
“O House of Jacob, come ye, let us walk in the Light of the Lord.”
* * * * *
_SOUTHWARK_:
Printed by ANN KEMMISH, King-Street, Borough.
* * * * *
1810.
* * * * *
_PREFACE_.
_TO those Friends who requested the Publication of this Sermon_—_I have
only to say_, _I have endeavored to recollect a considerable part of it_;
_many ideas I have omitted_, _and others I have introduced_, _as I had
not the least intention of making this public_, _nor should I but for
your very pressing solicitation_. _I would remark by way of Preface_,
_that the success of Sermons_, _in point of usefulness_, _depends upon
the operations of God the divine Spirit_; _and these influences are
entirely sovereign_. _That although this Sermon was blest to you in the
hearing_, _it may not be so to you in the reading_—_nevertheless_, _as
the friends of immortal truth_—_you being in the possession of that love_
(_which rejoiceth in the truth_) _will also rejoice in every attempt to
exalt the Person of Jesus as the truth_; _to comfort and establish
Believers in the truth_, _and to encourage all the heralds of truth_, _to
be faithful unto death_. _I have sent forth the truth in a very plain
style_; _to you who know her excellencies she will shine with unfading
charms_; _while you adore the God of all grace_—_and I subscribe myself_,
_Your willing Servant in the cause of truth_,
_J. CHURCH_.
A SERMON.
JUDGES viith Chap. 20th Verse.
“_And the three companies blew the trumpets_, _and brake the
pitchers, and held the lamps in their left hands_, _and their
trumpets in their right_, _to blow withal_; _and they cried_, _The
Sword of the Lord and of Gideon_!”
THE history of the church of God, in all ages past, as recorded in the
Scriptures, is intended by the Spirit to exhibit many things of vast
importance to us, on whom the ends of the world are come.
FIRST.—The rebellion, ingratitude, and idolatry of the Israelites, give
us an awful proof of human depravity, and teach an humbling lesson to the
spiritual Israel, who have the same sinful nature, are prone to the same
sins, and would often fall into them and their consequences, but for the
grace of God.
SECONDLY.—The patience and long-suffering of God, particularly marked out
in this history—he bare long with them; his mercy was extended,
prolonged, and manifested to them, notwithstanding all their
provocations, in forgetting his deliverances of them in times past, and
practising the same sins he had before resented.
THIRDLY.—His disapprobation of their conduct, and the means he took to
testify it, are set before us. Our God is never at a loss for means to
accomplish his wise and holy purposes of justice or mercy, as is evident
from the history before us. The blessed Spirit operating upon the souls
of his people, often by his influence reproves their consciences of sin,
as it is so opposite to the purity of that divine nature, or holy
principle he has blessed them with. Sin, committed by a believer, is a
transgression of the law, or dictates of faith; for there is no sin,
condemned under the first covenant, but what, under the covenant of
grace, is pointed out in more odious colours.—Hence the idolatry,
rebellion, and ingratitude of the believer, are seen and lamented by him
as a child of God; and as God the Spirit communicates light to his
understanding, to discover it as sinful, he perpetually testifies that
his sins are more sinful than those who know not God.
FOURTHLY.—The inseparable connection between sin and sorrow, is felt by
all, both elect and non-elect. By nations, families, and individuals,
the moral and penal evils of the Fall, will be, must be, and are felt by
all. The non-elect feel it in many awful forms, as transgressors, in the
curse of the ground, in the calamities of war, in all the dreadful
horrors of a guilty conscience, and in the wrath of a sin-avenging God.
Nations feel it universally; this is evident by the calamities which
befell the land of Canaan—so the 6th Chapter begins: “And the children of
Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord; and the Lord delivered them
into the hand of Midian.” Their sin was resented in this form, by the
Lord—the prevailing of their enemies, which forced them to hide in dens,
caves, mountains, and strong holds—their enemies destroyed the increase
of their country, and reduced them almost to a famine; “and Israel was
greatly impoverished because of the Midianites” and people of Arabia.
FIFTHLY.—The tender mercy of God the Saviour appears as remarkable in
their deliverance; in the remembrance of his covenant of old, with their
fore-fathers; his good hand was seen in bringing them out of trouble,
although they had brought these troubles on themselves—what a solemn, but
gracious proof; “O! Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself! but in me is
thine help.” And what encouragement does this give to poor backsliders
to return to Jesus, their first husband; for although they have brought
these troubles on themselves, yet Jesus is ready to deliver them! What a
striking account does the pious Nehemiah give of the conduct of the
Israelites, and the goodness of God to man—9th chap. 28th verse; “But
after they had rest, they did evil again before thee, therefore thou
leftest them in the hands of their enemies, so that they had dominion
over them; yet when they cried unto thee thou heardest them from heaven;
and many times thou didst deliver them, according to thy tender mercies.”
SIXTHLY.—I remark again, that our God has ever manifested himself a God,
hearing prayer: the children of Israel cried unto the Lord, and the Lord
sent a prophet to them; and after reproving them, we have an account of a
deliverer, raised up by the Lord himself. What encouragement does this
give to us in all our trials, without and within, whether in body, soul,
circumstances, family, or nation. God has even condescended to hear the
cries of many who had no grace, yet, led by the light of nature to call
on him in trouble; and will he turn a deaf ear to his saints in trouble?
surely not. Believer, the remedy’s before thee—PRAY.
In taking one more view of this history, we must admire the conduct of
God in over-turning all the schemes of men, their wisdom, counsel, and
| 564.871019 | 2,685 |
2023-11-16 18:25:12.1427210
| 1,357 | 200 |
Produced by KD Weeks, David Edwards and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
book was produced from scanned images of public domain
material from the Google Books project.)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Bold and italic characters, which appear only in the advertisements, are
delimited with the ‘_’ and ‘=’ characters respectively, as ‘_italic_’ and
‘=bold=.’
The few minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected.
Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details
regarding the handling of these issues.
POPULAR JUVENILE BOOKS,
BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.
----------
_RAGGED DICK SERIES._
_Complete in Six Volumes._
I. RAGGED DICK; or, Street Life in New York.
II. FAME AND FORTUNE; or, The Progress of Richard
Hunter.
III. MARK, THE MATCH BOY.
IV. ROUGH AND READY; or, Life Among New York Newsboys.
V. BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; or, Among the Wharves.
VI. RUFUS AND ROSE; or, The Fortunes of Rough and
Ready.
=_Price, $1.25 per volume._=
----------
_CAMPAIGN SERIES._
_Complete in Three Volumes._
I. FRANK’S CAMPAIGN.
II. PAUL PRESCOTT’S CHARGE.
III. CHARLIE CODMAN’S CRUISE.
=_Price, $1.25 per volume._=
----------
_LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES._
_To be completed in Six Volumes._
I. LUCK AND PLUCK; or, John Oakley’s Inheritance.
II. SINK OR SWIM; or, Harry Raymond’s Resolve.
III. STRONG AND STEADY; or, Paddle your own Canoe. (In
October, 1871.)
OTHERS IN PREPARATION.
=_Price, $1.50 per volume._=
----------
_TATTERED TOM SERIES._
_To be completed in Six Volumes._
I. TATTERED TOM; or, The story of a Street Arab.
II. PAUL, THE PEDDLER; or, The Adventures of a Young
Street Merchant. (In November, 1871.)
OTHERS IN PREPARATION.
=_Price, $1.25 per volume._=
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TATTERED TOM SERIES.
BY
HORATIO ALGER JR.
[Illustration]
TATTERED TOM.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TATTERED TOM;
OR,
THE STORY OF A STREET ARAB.
BY
HORATIO ALGER, JR.,
AUTHOR OF “RAGGED DICK SERIES,” “LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES,”
“CAMPAIGN SERIES.”
----------
LORING, Publisher,
COR. BROMFIELD AND WASHINGTON STREETS,
BOSTON.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
A. K. LORING,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Rockwell & Churchill, Printers and Stereotypers,
122 Washington Street, Boston.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=To=
=AMOS AND O. AUGUSTA CHENEY,=
=This Volume=
IS DEDICATED
BY THEIR AFFECTIONATE BROTHER.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE.
----------
When, three years since, the author published “Ragged Dick,” he was far
from anticipating the flattering welcome it would receive, or the degree
of interest which would be excited by his pictures of street life in New
York. The six volumes which comprised his original design are completed,
but the subject is not exhausted. There are yet other phases of street
life to be described, and other classes of street Arabs, whose fortunes
deserve to be chronicled.
“Tattered Tom” is therefore presented to the public as the initial
volume of a new series of six stories, which may be regarded as a
continuation of the “Ragged Dick Series.” Some surprise may be felt at
the discovery that Tom is a girl; but I beg to assure my readers that
she is not one of the conventional kind. Though not without her good
points, she will be found to differ very widely in tastes and manners
from the young ladies of twelve usually to be met in society. I venture
to hope that she will become a favorite in spite of her numerous faults,
and that no less interest will be felt in her fortunes than in those of
the heroes of earlier volumes.
NEW YORK, April, 1871.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TATTERED TOM;
OR,
THE ADVENTURES OF A STREET ARAB.
-------
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCES TATTERED TOM.
Mr. Frederic Pelham, a young gentleman very daintily dressed, with
exquisitely fitting kids and highly polished boots, stood at the corner
of Broadway and Chambers Streets, surveying with some dismay the dirty
crossing, and speculating as to his chances of getting over without
marring the polish of his boots.
He started at length, and had taken two steps, when a dirty hand was
thrust out, and he was saluted by the request, “Gi’ me a penny, sir?”
“Out of my way, you bundle of rags!” he answered.
“You’re another!” was the prompt reply.
Frederic Pelham stared at the creature who had dared to imply that he—a
leader of fashion—was a bundle of rags.
The street-sweeper was apparently about twelve years of age. It was not
quite easy to determine whether it was a boy or girl. The head was
surmounted by a boy’s cap, the hair was cut short, it wore a boy’s
jacket, but underneath was a girl’s dress. Jacket and dress were both in
a state of extreme raggedness. The child’s face was very dark and,
| 565.462131 | 2,686 |
2023-11-16 18:25:12.3848230
| 372 | 79 |
Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines.
THYRZA
by
GEORGE GISSING
CONTENTS
I AMONG THE HILLS
II THE IDEALIST
III A CORNER OF LAMBETH
IV THYRZA SINGS
V A LAND OF TWILIGHT
VI DISINHERITED
VII THE WORK IN PROGRESS
VIII A CLASP OF HANDS
IX A GOLDEN PROSPECT
X TEMPTING FORTUNE
XI A MAN WITH A FUTURE
XII LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
XIII THYRZA SINGS AGAIN
XIV MISTS
XV A SECOND VISIT TO WALNUT TREE WALK
XVI SEA MUSIC
XVII ADRIFT
XVIII DRAWING NEARER
XIX A SONG WITHOUT WORDS
XX RAPIDS
XXI MISCHIEF AFOOT
XXII GOOD-BYE
XXIII CONFESSION
XXIV THE END OF THE DREAM
XXV A BIRD OF THE AIR
XXVI IDEALIST AND HIS FRIEND
XXVII FOUND
XXVIII HOPE SURPRISED
XXIX TOGETHER AGAIN
XXX MOVEMENTS
XXXI AN OLD MAN'S REST
XXXII TOTTY'S LUCK
XXXIII THE HEART AND ITS SECRET
XXXIV A LOAN ON SECURITY
XXXV THREE LETTERS
XXXVI
| 565.704233 | 2,687 |
2023-11-16 18:25:12.4972350
| 1,025 | 414 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Library of Early
Journals.)
{401}
NOTES AND QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION FOR LITERARY MEN, ARTISTS, ANTIQUARIES,
GENEALOGISTS, ETC.
"When found, make a note of."--CAPTAIN CUTTLE.
* * * * *
No. 82.]
SATURDAY, MAY 24. 1851.
[Price Threepence. Stamped Edition 4d.
CONTENTS.
NOTES:-- Page
Note upon a Passage in "Measure for Measure" 401
Rhyming Latin Version of the Song on Robin Goodfellow,
by S. W. Singer 402
Folk Lore:--Devonshire Folk Lore: 1. Storms from
Conjuring; 2. The Heath-hounds; 3. Cock scares the
Fiend; 4. Cranmere Pool--St. Uncumber and the
offering of Oats--"Similia similibus curantur"--Cure
of large Neck 404
Dibdin's Library Companion 405
Minor Notes:--A Note on Dress--Curious Omen at
Marriage--Ventriloquist Hoax--Barker, the original
Panorama Painter 406
QUERIES:--
Minor Queries:--Vegetable Sympathy--Court Dress--Dieu
et mon Droit--Cachecope Bell--The Image
of both Churches--Double Names--"If this fair
Flower," &c.--Hugh Peachell--Sir John Marsham--Legend
represented in Frettenham Church--King
of Nineveh burns himself in his Palace--Butchers not
Jurymen--Redwing's Nest--Earth thrown upon the
Coffin--Family of Rowe--Portus Canum--Arms of
Sir John Davies--William Penn--Who were the
Writers in the North Briton? 407
MINOR QUERIES ANSWERED:--"Many a Word"--Roman
Catholic Church--Tick--Hylles' Arithmetic 409
REPLIES:--
Villenage 410
Maclean not Junius 411
Replies to Minor Queries:--The Ten Commandments--
Mounds, Munts, Mounts--San Graal--Epitaph on
the Countess of Pembroke 412
MISCELLANEOUS:--
Notes on Books, Sales, Catalogues, &c. 414
Books and Odd Volumes wanted 414
Notices to Correspondents 414
Advertisements 415
* * * * *
Notes.
NOTE UPON A PASSAGE IN "MEASURE FOR MEASURE."
The Third Act of _Measure for Measure_ opens with Isabella's visit to her
brother (Claudio) in the dungeon, where he lies under sentence of death. In
accordance with Claudio's earnest entreaty, she has sued for mercy to
Angelo, the sanctimonious deputy, and in the course of her allusion to the
only terms upon which Angelo is willing to remit the sentence, she informs
him that he "must die," and then continues:
"This outward-sainted deputy,--
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew,
As falcon doth the fowl,--is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell."
Whereupon (according to the reading of the folio of 1623) Claudio, who is
aware of Angelo's reputation for sanctity, exclaims in astonishment:
"The _prenzie_ Angelo?"
To which Isabella replies (according to the reading of the same edition):
"O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'st body to invest and cover
In _prenzie_ guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou might'st be freed?"
Claudio, still incredulous, rejoins:
"O, heavens! it cannot be."
The word _prenzie_ has given rise to much annotation, and it seems to be
universally agreed that the word is a misprint. The question is, what was
the word
| 565.816645 | 2,688 |
2023-11-16 18:25:12.6254210
| 1,171 | 396 |
Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org
(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive.]
CATHAY
TRANSLATIONS BY
EZRA POUND
FOR THE MOST PART FROM THE CHINESE
OF RIHAKU, FROM THE NOTES OF THE
LATE ERNEST FENOLLOSA, AND
THE DECIPHERINGS OF THE
PROFESSORS MORI
AND ARIGA
LONDON
ELKIN MATHEWS, CORK STREET
MCMXV
Rihaku flourished in the eighth century of our era. The
Anglo-Saxon Seafarer is of about this period. The other
poems from the Chinese are earlier.
Song of the Bowmen of Shu
Here we are, picking the first fern-shoots
And saying: When shall we get back to our country?
Here we are because we have the Ken-nin for our
foemen,
We have no comfort because of these Mongols.
We grub the soft fern-shoots,
When anyone says "Return," the others are full of
sorrow.
Sorrowful minds, sorrow is strong, we are hungry
and thirsty.
Our defence is not yet made sure, no one can let
his friend return.
We grub the old fern-stalks.
We say: Will we be let to go back in October?
There is no ease in royal affairs, we have no comfort.
Our sorrow is bitter, but we would not return to our
country.
What flower has come into blossom?
Whose chariot? The General's.
Horses, his horses even, are tired. They were strong.
We have no rest, three battles a month.
By heaven, his horses are tired.
The generals are on them, the soldiers are by them
The horses are well trained, the generals have ivory
arrows and quivers ornamented with fish-skin.
The enemy is swift, we must be careful.
When we set out, the willows were drooping with spring,
We come back in the snow,
We go slowly, we are hungry and thirsty,
Our mind is full of sorrow, who will know of our grief?
_By Kutsugen._
_4th Century B.C._
The Beautiful Toilet
Blue, blue is the grass about the river
And the willows have overfilled the close garden.
And within, the mistress, in the midmost of her youth,
White, white of face, hesitates, passing the door.
Slender, she puts forth a slender hand,
And she was a courtezan in the old days,
And she has married a sot,
Who now goes drunkenly out
And leaves her too much alone.
_By Mei Sheng._
_B.C. 140._
The River Song
This boat is of shato-wood, and its gunwales are cut
magnolia,
Musicians with jewelled flutes and with pipes of gold
Fill full the sides in rows, and our wine
Is rich for a thousand cups.
We carry singing girls, drift with the drifting water,
Yet Sennin needs
A yellow stork for a charger, and all our seamen
Would follow the white gulls or ride them.
Kutsu's prose song
Hangs with the sun and moon.
King So's terraced palace
is now but a barren hill,
But I draw pen on this barge
Causing the five peaks to tremble,
And I have joy in these words
like the joy of blue islands.
(If glory could last forever
Then the waters of Han would flow northward.)
And I have moped in the Emperor's garden, awaiting
an order-to-write!
I looked at the dragon-pond, with its willow-coloured
water
Just reflecting the sky's tinge,
And heard the five-score nightingales aimlessly singing.
The eastern wind brings the green colour into the island
grasses at Yei-shu,
The purple house and the crimson are full of Spring
softness.
South of the pond the willow-tips are half-blue and
bluer,
Their cords tangle in mist, against the brocade-like
palace.
Vine-strings a hundred feet long hang down from carved
railings,
And high over the willows, the fine birds sing to each
other, and listen,
Crying--"Kwan, Kuan," for the early wind, and the feel
of it.
The wind bundles itself into a bluish cloud and wanders off.
Over a thousand gates, over a thousand doors are the sounds
of spring singing,
And the Emperor is at Ko.
Five clouds hang aloft, bright on the purple sky,
The imperial guards come forth from the golden house with
their armour a-gleaming.
The emperor in his jewelled car goes out to inspect his
flowers,
He goes out to Hori, to look at the wing-flapping storks,
He returns by way of Sei rock, to hear the new nightingales,
For the gardens at Jo-run are full of new
| 565.944831 | 2,689 |
2023-11-16 18:25:12.9209350
| 4,095 | 87 |
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen
and PG Distributed Proofreaders
THE WORKS OF APHRA BEHN, VOL. III
EDITED BY MONTAGUE SUMMERS
MCMXV
CONTENTS:
THE TOWN-<DW2>; OR, SIR TIMOTHY TAWDREY
THE FALSE COUNT
THE LUCKY CHANCE; OR, AN ALDERMAN'S BARGAIN
THE FORC'D MARRIAGE; OR, THE JEALOUS BRIDEGROOM
THE EMPEROR OF THE MOON
NOTES
THE TOWN-<DW2>; OR, SIR TIMOTHY TAWDREY.
ARGUMENT.
Sir Timothy Tawdrey is by the wishes of his mother and the lady's father
designed for Celinda, who loves Bellmour, nephew to Lord Plotwell. A
coxcomb of the first water, Sir Timothy receives a sharp rebuff when he
opens his suit, and accordingly he challenges Bellmour, but fails to
appear at the place of meeting. Celinda's old nurse, at night, admits
Bellmour to her mistress' chamber, where they are surprized by
Friendlove, her brother, who is, however, favourable to the union, the
more so as he is a friend of Bellmour, and they have but newly returned
from travelling together in Italy. Lord Plotwell warmly welcomes his
nephew home, and proceeds to unfold his design of giving him his niece
Diana in marriage. When he demurs, the old lord threatens to deprive him
of his estate, and he is compelled eventually to acquiesce in the
matrimonial schemes of his guardian. Bellmour sends word to Celinda, who
replies in a heart-broken letter; and at the wedding feast Friendlove,
who himself is deeply enamoured of Diana, appears in disguise to observe
the traitor. He is followed by his sister disguised as a boy, and upon
Friendlove's drawing on Bellmour a scuffle ensues which, however, ends
without harm. In the nuptial chamber Bellmour informs Diana that he
cannot love her and she quits him maddened with rage and disappointment.
Sir Timothy serenades the newly-mated pair and is threatened by
Bellmour, whilst Celinda, who has been watching the house, attacks the
<DW2> and his fiddlers. During the brawl Diana issuing forth meets
Celinda, and taking her for a boy leads her into the house and shortly
makes advances of love. They are interrupted by Friendlove, disguised,
and he receives Diana's commands to seek out and challenge Bellmour. At
the same time he reveals his love as though he told the tale of another,
but he is met with scorn and only bidden to fight the husband who has
repulsed her. Bellmour, meantime, in despair and rage at his misery
plunges into reckless debauchery, and in company with Sir Timothy visits
a bagnio, where they meet Betty Flauntit, the knight's kept mistress,
and other cyprians. Hither they are tracked by Charles, Bellmour's
younger brother, and Trusty, Lord Plotwell's old steward. Sharp words
pass, the brothers fight and Charles is slighted wounded. Their Uncle
hears of this with much indignation, and at the same time receiving a
letter from Diana begging for a divorce, he announces his intention to
further her purpose, and to abandon wholly Charles and Phillis, his
sister, in consequence of their elder brother's conduct. Sir Timothy,
induced by old Trusty, begins a warm courtship of Phillis, and arranges
with a parasite named Sham to deceive her by a mock marriage. Sham,
however, procures a real parson, and Sir Timothy is for the moment
afraid he has got a wife without a dowry or portion. Lord Plotwell
eventually promises to provide for her, and at Diana's request, now she
recognizes her mistake in trying to hold a man who does not love her,
Bellmour is forgiven and allowed to wed Celinda as soon as the divorce
has been pronounced, whilst Diana herself rewards Friendlove with
her hand.
SOURCE.
_The Town-<DW2>; or, Sir Timothy Tawdrey_ is materially founded upon
George Wilkins' popular play, _The Miseries of Enforced Marriage_ (4to,
1607, 1611, 1629, 1637), reprinted in Dodsley. Sir Timothy himself is
moulded to some extent upon Sir Francis Ilford, but, as Geneste aptly
remarks, he may be considered a new character. In the older drama,
Clare, the original of Celinda, dies tragically of a broken heart. It
cannot be denied that Mrs. Behn has greatly improved Wilkins' scenes.
The well-drawn character of Betty Flauntit is her own, and the
realistically vivacious bagnio episodes of Act iv replace a not very
interesting or lively tavern with a considerable accession to wit and
humour, although perhaps not to strict propriety.
THEATRICAL HISTORY.
_The Town-<DW2>; or, Sir Timothy Tawdrey_ was produced at the Duke's
Theatre, Dorset Garden, in September, 1676. There is no record of its
performance, and the actors' names are not given. It was a year of
considerable changes in the company, and any attempt to supply these
would be the merest surmise.
THE TOWN-<DW2>;
or, Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_.
PROLOGUE.
_As Country Squire, who yet had never known
The long-expected Joy of being in Town;
Whose careful Parents scarce permitted Heir
To ride from home, unless to neighbouring Fair;
At last by happy Chance is hither led,
To purchase Clap with loss of Maidenhead;
Turns wondrous gay, bedizen'd to Excess;
Till he is all Burlesque in Mode and Dress:
Learns to talk loud in Pit, grows wily too,
That is to say, makes mighty Noise and Show.
So a young Poet, who had never been
Dabling beyond the Height of Ballading;
Who, in his brisk Essays, durst ne'er excel
The lucky Flight of rhyming Doggerel,
Sets up with this sufficient Stock on Stage,
And has, perchance, the luck to please the Age.
He draws you in, like cozening Citizen;
Cares not how bad the Ware, so Shop be fine.
As tawdry Gown and Petticoat gain more
(Tho on a dull diseas'd ill-favour'd Whore)
Than prettier Frugal, tho on Holy-day, |
When every City-Spark has leave to play_, |
--Damn her, she must be sound, she is so gay; |
_So let the Scenes be fine, you'll ne'er enquire
For Sense, but lofty Flights in nimble Wire.
--What we present to Day is none of these,
But we cou'd wish it were, for we wou'd please,
And that you'll swear we hardly meant to do:
Yet here's no Sense; Pox on't, but here's no Show;
But a plain Story, that will give a Taste
Of what your Grandsires lov'd i'th' Age that's past_.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MEN.
Lord _Plotwell_.
_Bellmour_, Nephew to the Lord _Plotwell_, contracted to _Celinda_.
_Charles_, Brother to _Bellmour_.
_Friendlove_, Brother to _Celinda_, in love with _Diana_.
Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_, a <DW2>-Knight, design'd to marry _Celinda_.
_Sham_, | Hangers on to Sir _Timothy_.
_Sharp_, |
_Trusty_, An old Steward to _Bellmour's_ Family.
Page to _Bellmour_.
Page to Lord _Plotwell_.
Sir _Timothy's_ Page.
Guests, Dancers, Fiddlers, and Servants.
WOMEN.
The Lady _Diana_, Niece to the Lord _Plotwell_.
_Celinda_, Sister to _Friendlove_, contracted to _Bellmour_.
_Phillis_, Sister to _Bellmour_.
_Betty Flauntit_, kept by Sir _Timothy_.
_Driver_, A Bawd.
_Jenny_, | Two Whores
_Doll_, |
_Nurse_,
Ladies and Guests.
SCENE, _Covent-Garden_.
ACT I.
SCENE I. _The Street_.
_Enter Sir_ Timothy Tawdrey, Sham, _and_ Sharp.
Sir _Tim_. Hereabouts is the House wherein dwells the Mistress of my
Heart; for she has Money, Boys, mind me, Money in abundance, or she were
not for me--The Wench her self is good-natur'd, and inclin'd to be
civil: but a Pox on't--she has a Brother, a conceited Fellow, whom the
World mistakes for a fine Gentleman; for he has travell'd, talks
Languages, bows with a _bonne mine_, and the rest; but, by Fortune, he
shall entertain you with nothing but Words--
_Sham_. Nothing else!--
Sir _Tim_. No--He's no Country-Squire, Gentlemen, will not game, whore;
nay, in my Conscience, you will hardly get your selves drunk in his
Company--He treats A-la-mode, half Wine, half Water, and the rest--But
to the Business, this Fellow loves his Sister dearly, and will not trust
her in this leud Town, as he calls it, without him; and hither he has
brought her to marry me.
_Sham_. A Pox upon him for his Pains--
Sir _Tim_. So say I--But my Comfort is, I shall be as weary of her, as
the best Husband of 'em all. But there's Conveniency in it; besides, the
Match being as good as made up by the old Folks in the Country, I must
submit--The Wench I never saw yet, but they say she's handsom--But no
matter for that, there's Money, my Boys.
_Sharp_. Well, Sir, we will follow you--but as dolefully as People do
their Friends to the Grave, from whence they're never to return, at
least not the same Substance; the thin airy Vision of a brave good
Fellow, we may see thee hereafter, but that's the most.
Sir _Tim_. Your Pardon, sweet _Sharp_, my whole Design in it is to be
Master of my self, and with part of her Portion to set up my Miss,
_Betty Flauntit_; which, by the way, is the main end of my marrying; the
rest you'll have your shares of--Now I am forc'd to take you up Suits at
treble Prizes, have damn'd Wine and Meat put upon us, 'cause the
Reckoning is to be book'd: But ready Money, ye Rogues! What Charms it
has! makes the Waiters fly, Boys, and the Master with Cap in
Hand--excuse what's amiss, Gentlemen--Your Worship shall command the
best--and the rest--How briskly the Box and Dice dance, and the ready
Money submits to the lucky Gamester, and the gay Wench consults with
every Beauty to make her self agreeable to the Man with ready Money! In
fine, dear Rogues, all things are sacrific'd to its Power; and no Mortal
conceives the Joy of Argent Content. 'Tis this powerful God that makes
me submit to the Devil, Matrimony; and then thou art assur'd of me, my
stout Lads of brisk Debauch.
_Sham_. And is it possible you can be ty'd up to a Wife? Whilst here in
_London_, and free, you have the whole World to range in, and like a
wanton Heifer, eat of every Pasture.
Sir _Tim_. Why, dost think I'll be confin'd to my own dull Enclosure?
No, I had rather feed coarsely upon the boundless Common; perhaps two or
three days I may be in love, and remain constant, but that's the most.
_Sharp_. And in three Weeks, should you wed a _Cynthia_, you'd be a
Monster.
Sir _Tim_. What, thou meanest a Cuckold, I warrant. God help thee! But a
Monster is only so from its Rarity, and a Cuckold is no such strange
thing in our Age.
_Enter_ Bellmour _and_ Friendlove.
But who comes here? _Bellmour!_ Ah, my little dear Rogue! how dost thou?
--_Ned Friendlove_ too! Dear Lad, how dost thou too? Why, welcome to
Town, i'faith, and I'm glad to see you both.
_Friend_. Sir _Timothy Tawdrey!_--
Sir _Tim_. The same, by Fortune, dear _Ned_: And how, and how, Man, how
go Matters?
_Friend_. Between who, Sir?
Sir _Tim_. Why, any Body, Man; but, by Fortune, I'm overjoy'd to meet
thee: But where dost think I was going?
_Friend_. Is't possible one shou'd divine?
Sir _Tim_. Is't possible you shou'd not, and meet me so near your
Sister's Lodgings? Faith, I was coming to pay my Respects and Services,
and the rest--Thou know'st my meaning--The old Business of the
Silver-World, _Ned_; by Fortune, it's a mad Age we live in, _Ned_; and
here be so many--wicked Rogues, about this damn'd leud Town, that,
'faith, I am fain to speak in the vulgar modish Style, in my own
Defence, and railly Matrimony and the rest.
_Friend_. Matrimony!--I hope you are so exactly refin'd a Man of the
Town, that you will not offer once to think of so dull a thing: let that
alone for such cold Complexions as _Bellmour_ here, and I, that have not
attain'd to that most excellent faculty of Keeping yet, as you, Sir
_Timothy_, have done; much to your Glory, I assure you.
Sir _Tim_. Who, I, Sir? You do me much Honour: I must confess I do not
find the softer Sex cruel; I am received as well as another Man of
my Parts.
_Friend_. Of your Money you mean, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. Why, 'faith, _Ned_, thou art i'th' right; I love to buy my
Pleasure: for, by Fortune, there's as much pleasure in Vanity and
Variety, as any Sins I know; What think'st thou, _Ned?_
_Friend_. I am not of your Mind, I love to love upon the square; and
that I may be sure not to be cheated with false Ware, I present 'em
nothing but my Heart.
Sir _Tim_. Yes, and have the Consolation of seeing your frugal huswifery
Miss in the Pit, at a Play, in a long Scarf and Night-gown, for want of
Points, and Garniture.
_Friend_. If she be clean, and pretty, and drest in Love, I can excuse
the rest, and so will she.
Sir _Tim_. I vow to Fortune, _Ned_, thou must come to _London_, and be a
little manag'd:'slife, Man, shouldst thou talk so aloud in good
Company, thou wouldst be counted a strange Fellow. Pretty--and drest
with Love--a fine Figure, by Fortune: No, _Ned_, the painted Chariot
gives a Lustre to every ordinary Face, and makes a Woman look like
Quality; Ay, so like, by Fortune, that you shall not know one from
t'other, till some scandalous, out-of-favour'd laid-aside Fellow of the
Town, cry--Damn her for a Bitch--how scornfully the Whore regards
me--She has forgot since _Jack_--such a one, and I, club'd for the
keeping of her, when both our Stocks well manag'd wou'd not amount to
above seven Shillings six Pence a week; besides now and then a Treat of
a Breast of Mutton from the next Cook's.--Then the other laughs, and
crys--Ay, rot her--and tells his Story too, and concludes with, Who
manages the Jilt now; Why, faith, some dismal Coxcomb or other, you may
be sure, replies the first. But, _Ned_, these are Rogues, and Rascals,
that value no Man's Reputation, because they despise their own. But
faith, I have laid aside all these Vanities, now I have thought of
Matrimony; but I desire my Reformation may be a Secret, because, as you
know, for a Man of my Address, and the rest--'tis not altogether
so Jantee.
_Friend_. Sir, I assure you, it shall be so great a Secret for me, that
I will never ask you who the happy Woman is, that's chosen for this
great Work of your Conversion.
Sir _Tim_. Ask me--No, you need not, because you know already.
_Friend_. Who, I? I protest, Sir _Timothy_--
Sir _Tim_. No Swearing, dear _Ned_, for 'tis not such a Secret, but I
will trust my Intimates: these are my Friends, _Ned_; pray know
them--This Mr. _Sham_, and this--by Fortune, a very honest Fellow
[_Bows to 'em_] Mr. _Sharp_, and may be trusted with a Bus'ness that
concerns you as well as me.
_Friend_. Me! What do you mean, Sir _Timothy_?
Sir _Tim_. Why, Sir, you know what I mean.
_Friend_. Not I, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. What, not that I am to marry your Sister _Celinda_?
_Friend_. Not at all.
_Bel_. O, this insufferable Sot! [_Aside_.
_Friend_. My Sister, Sir, is very nice.
Sir _Tim_. That's all one, Sir, the old People have adjusted the matter,
and they are the most proper for a Negotiation of that kind, which saves
us the trouble of a tedious Courtship.
_Friend_. That the old
| 566.240345 | 2,690 |
2023-11-16 18:25:13.1876570
| 371 | 62 |
Produced by Verity White, PM for Bureau of American
Ethnology and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by the Bibliotheque nationale
de France (BnF/Gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr)
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION----BUREAU OF ETHNOLOGY.
ANIMAL CARVINGS
FROM
MOUNDS OF THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY.
BY
HENRY W. HENSHAW.
CONTENTS.
Introductory 123
Manatee 125
Toucan 135
Paroquet 139
Knowledge of tropical animals by Mound-Builders 142
Other errors of identification 144
Skill in sculpture of the Mound-Builders 148
Generalization not designed 149
Probable totemic origin 150
Animal mounds 152
The "Elephant" mound 152
The "Alligator" mound 158
Human sculptures 160
Indian and mound-builders' art compared 164
General conclusions 166
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Fig. 4.--Otter from Squier and Davis 128
5.--Otter from Squier and Davis 128
6.--Otter from Rau. Manatee from Stevens 129
7.--Manatee from Stevens 129
8.--Lamantin or Sea-Cow from Squier and Davis 130
9.--Lamantin or Sea-Cow from Squier 130
10.--
| 566.507067 | 2,691 |
2023-11-16 18:25:13.2996620
| 881 | 141 |
Produced by Internet Archive; University of Florida, Christopher
Bloomfield and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
CHILD'S NEW STORY BOOK;
OR TALES AND DIALOGUES FOR LITTLE FOLKS.
1849. [Publication date on cover: 1850]
I'll watch thy dawn of joys, and mould
Thy little hearts to duty,--
I'll teach thee truths as I behold
Thy faculties, like flowers, unfold
In intellectual beauty.
[Illustration: The Little Ship.]
The Little Ship.
"I have made a nice little ship, of cork, and am going to let it sail
in this great basin of water. Now let us fancy this water to be the
North-Pacific Ocean, and those small pieces of cork on the side of the
basin, to be the Friendly Islands, and this little man standing on the
deck of the ship, to be the famous navigator, Captain Cook, going to
find them."
"Do you know that the Friendly Islands were raised by corals?"
"I suppose they were."
"Do you know where Captain Cook was born?"
"He was born at Marton, a village in the North Riding of Yorkshire,
in England."
* * * * *
[Illustration: The Little Girl and the Shell.]
The Little Girl and the Shell.
When I went to visit a friend, the other day, I saw a little girl with
whom I was much pleased. She sat on a low seat by the fire-side, and
she held in her hand a pretty white sea-shell, faintly tinted with pink,
which she kept placing against her ear; and all the while a settled calm
rested upon her face, and she seemed as if she were listening to the
holy tones of some loved voice; then taking it away from her ear, she
would gaze upon it with a look of deep fondness and pensive delight.
At last I said,
"What are you doing, my dear?"
"I am listening to the whisper."
"What whisper?" I asked.
"The whisper of the sea," she said. "My uncle sent me this shell, and
a letter in which he said, 'If I placed it against my ear I should hear
the whisper of the sea;' and he also said, he would soon come to us, and
bring me a great many pretty things; and mamma said, when we heard the
whisper of the shell, we would call it uncle Henry's promise. And so
it became very precious to me, and I loved its sound better than sweet
music."
* * * * *
[Illustration: Robert and John.]
Robert and John.
One fine May morning, Robert and John were told by their mamma to go to
school. So they put on their caps, and having kissed their mamma, were
soon on their way. Now, first they had to pass through a pleasant lane,
with tall elm trees on one side, and a hawthorn hedge on the other; then
across two fields; then through a churchyard, and then up a little
grove, at the end of which was the school-house. But they had not gone
more than half the way down the lane, when John began to loiter behind,
to gather wild flowers, and to pick up smooth little pebbles which had
been washed clean by the rain, while Robert walked on reading his book.
At last, John, calling after his brother, said, "I do not see what is
the use of going to school this fine morning; let us play truant."
"No," replied Robert; "I will not take pleasure, for which I know I must
suffer in after hours."
"Nonsense about that," said John; "I will enjoy myself while I can."
"And so will I," replied Robert; "and I shall best enjoy myself by
keeping a good conscience, and so I will go to school."
"Very well, Robert, then tell the master that I am ill and cannot come,"
said John.
"I shall do no such thing, John," replied Robert; "I shall simply tell
the truth, if I am asked why you are not
| 566.619072 | 2,692 |
2023-11-16 18:25:13.3483770
| 413 | 106 |
Produced by David Widger
HIS MAJESTY BABY AND SOME COMMON PEOPLE
By Ian MacLaren
1902
To Andrew Carnegie,
The Munificent Benefactor Of
Scots Students
I.--HIS MAJESTY BABY
UNTIL the a'bus stopped and the old gentleman entered, we had been a
contented and genial company, travelling from a suburb into the city in
high, good fellowship, and our absolute monarch was Baby. His mother
was evidently the wife of a well-doing artisan, a wise-looking, capable,
bonnie young woman; and Baby was not a marvel of attire, nor could he
be called beautiful. He was dressed after a careful, tidy, comfortable
fashion, and he was a clear-skinned, healthy child; that is all you
would have noticed had you met the two on the street. In a'bus where
there is nothing to do for forty minutes except stare into one another's
faces, a baby has the great chance of his life, and this baby was
made to seize it. He was not hungry, and there were no pins about his
clothes, and nobody had made him afraid, and he was by nature a human
soul. So he took us in hand one by one, till he had reduced us all to a
state of delighted subjection, to the pretended scandal and secret
pride of his mother. His first conquest was easy, and might have been
discounted, for against such an onset there was no power of resistance
in the elderly woman opposite--one of the lower middles, fearfully
stout, and of course a grandmother. He simply looked at her--if he
smiled, that was thrown in--for, without her knowledge, her arms had
begun to shape for his reception--so often had children lain on that
ample resting-place. "Bless 'is little 'eart; it do me
| 566.667787 | 2,693 |
2023-11-16 18:25:13.5299300
| 120 | 12 |
Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE WHALE AND THE GRASSHOPPER
And Other Fables
By
SEUMAS O'BRIEN
With a frontispiece by
Robert McCaig
Boston
Little, Brown, and Company
1916
To
Edward J. O
| 566.84934 | 2,694 |
2023-11-16 18:25:14.2536900
| 2,106 | 114 |
Produced by Bryan Ness, Josephine Paolucci and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This
book was produced from scanned images of public domain
material from the Google Print project.)
VEGETABLE DIET:
AS SANCTIONED BY
MEDICAL MEN,
AND BY
EXPERIENCE IN ALL AGES.
INCLUDING A
SYSTEM OF VEGETABLE COOKERY.
BY DR. WM. A. ALCOTT,
AUTHOR OF THE YOUNG MAN'S GUIDE, YOUNG WOMAN'S GUIDE, YOUNG MOTHER,
YOUNG HOUSEKEEPER, AND LATE EDITOR OF THE LIBRARY OF HEALTH.
SECOND EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED.
NEW YORK:
FOWLER AND WELLS, PUBLISHERS,
No. 308 BROADWAY
1859.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849,
BY FOWLERS & WELLS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of
New York.
BANES & PALMER, STEREOTYPERS,
201 William st. corner Frankfort, N. Y.
PREFACE
The following volume embraces the testimony, direct or indirect, of more
than a HUNDRED individuals--besides that of societies and
communities--on the subject of vegetable diet. Most of this one hundred
persons are, or were, persons of considerable distinction in society;
and more than FIFTY of them were either medical men, or such as have
made physiology, hygiene, anatomy, pathology, medicine, or surgery a
leading or favorite study.
As I have written other works besides this--especially the "Young
House-Keeper"--which treat, more or less, of diet, it may possibly be
objected, that I sometimes repeat the same idea. But how is it to be
avoided? In writing for various classes of the community, and presenting
my views in various connections and aspects, it is almost necessary to
do so. Writers on theology, or education, or any other important topic,
do the same--probably to a far greater extent, in many instances, than I
have yet done. I repeat no idea for the _sake_ of repeating it. Not a
word is inserted but what seems to me necessary, in order that I may be
intelligible. Moreover, like the preacher of truth on many other
subjects, it is not so much my object to produce something new in every
paragraph, as to explain, illustrate, and enforce what is already known.
It may also be thought that I make too many books. But, as I do not
claim to be so much an originator of _new_ things as an instrument for
diffusing the _old_, it will not be expected that I should be twenty
years on a volume, like Bishop Butler. I had, however, been collecting
my stock of materials for this and other works--published or
unpublished--more than twenty-five years. Besides, it might be safely
and truly said that the study and reading and writing, in the
preparation of this volume, the "House I Live In," and the "Young
House-Keeper," have consumed at least three of the best years of my
life, at fourteen or fifteen hours a day. Several of my other works, as
the "Young Mother," the "Mother's Medical Guide," and the "Young Wife,"
have also been the fruit of years of toil and investigation and
observation, of which those who think only of the labor of merely
_writing them out_, know nothing. Even the "Mother in her Family"--at
least some parts of it--though in general a lighter work, has been the
result of much care and labor. The circumstance of publishing several
books at the same, or nearly the same time, has little or nothing to do
with their preparation.
When I commenced putting together the materials of this little treatise
on diet--thirteen years ago--it was my intention simply to show the
SAFETY of a vegetable and fruit diet, both for those who are afflicted
with many forms of chronic disease, and for the healthy. But I soon
became convinced that I ought to go farther, and show its SUPERIORITY
over every other. This I have attempted to do--with what success, the
reader must and will judge for himself.
I have said, it was not my original intention to prove a vegetable and
fruit diet to be any thing more than _safe_. But I wish not to be
understood as entertaining, even at that time, any doubts in regard to
the superiority of such a diet: the only questions with me were, Whether
the public mind was ready to hear and weigh the proofs, and whether this
volume was the place in which to present them. Both these questions,
however, as I went on, were settled, in the affirmative. I believed--and
still believe--that the public mind, in this country, is prepared for
the free discussion of all topics--provided they are discussed
candidly--which have a manifest bearing on the well-being of man; and I
have governed myself accordingly.
An apology may be necessary for retaining, unexplained, a few medical
terms. But I did not feel at liberty to change them, in the
correspondence of Dr. North, for more popular language; and, having
retained them thus far, it did not seem desirable to explain them
elsewhere. Nor was I willing to deface the pages of the work with
explanatory notes. The fact is, the technical terms alluded to, are,
after all, very few in number, and may be generally understood by the
connection in which they appear.
THE AUTHOR.
WEST NEWTON Mass.
ADVERTISEMENT
TO THE SECOND EDITION.
The great question in regard to diet, viz., whether any food of the
animal kind is absolutely necessary to the most full and perfect
development of man's whole nature, being fairly up, both in Europe and
America, and there being no practical, matter-of-fact volume on the
subject, of moderate size, in the market, numerous friends have been for
some time urging me to get up a new and revised edition of a work which,
though imperfect, has been useful to many, while it has been for some
time out of print. Such an edition I have at length found time to
prepare--to which I have added, in various ways, especially in the form
of new facts, nearly fifty pages of new and original matter.
WEST NEWTON, Mass., 1849.
CONTENTS
Page
CHAPTER I.
ORIGIN OF THIS WORK.
Experience of the Author, and his Studies.--Pamphlet in
1832.--Prize-Question of the Boylston Medical
Committee.--Collection of Materials for an Essay.--Dr.
North.--His Letter and Questions.--Results, 13-20
CHAPTER II.
LETTERS TO DR. NORTH.
Letter of Dr. Parmly.--Dr. W. A. Alcott.--Dr. D. S.
Wright.--Dr. H. N. Preston.--Dr. H. A. Barrows.--Dr. Caleb
Bannister.--Dr. Lyman Tenny.--Dr. J. M. B. Harden.--Joseph
Ricketson, Esq.--Joseph Congdon, Esq.--George W. Baker,
Esq.--John Howland, Jr., Esq.--Dr. Wm. H. Webster.--Josiah
Bennet, Esq.--Wm. Vincent, Esq.--Dr. George H. Perry.--Dr. L.
W. Sherman, 21-55
CHAPTER III.
REMARKS ON THE FOREGOING LETTERS.
Correspondence.--The "prescribed course of Regimen."--How many
victims to it?--Not one.--Case of Dr. Harden considered.--Case
of Dr. Preston.--Views of Drs. Clark, Cheyne, and Lambe, on the
treatment of Scrofula.--No reports of Injury from the
prescribed System.--Case of Dr. Bannister.--Singular testimony
of Dr. Wright.--Vegetable food for Laborers.--Testimony, on the
whole, much more favorable to the Vegetable System than could
reasonably have been expected, in the circumstances 56-66
CHAPTER IV.
ADDITIONAL INTELLIGENCE.
Letter from Dr. H. A. Barrows.--Dr. J. M. B. Harden.--Dr. J.
Porter.--Dr. N. J. Knight.--Dr. Lester Keep.--Second letter
from Dr. Keep.--Dr. Henry H. Brown.--Dr. Franklin Knox.--From a
Physician.--Additional statements by the Author. 66-91
CHAPTER V.
TESTIMONY OF OTHER MEDICAL MEN, BOTH OF ANCIENT AND MODERN TIMES.
General Remarks.--Testimony of Dr. Cheyne.--Dr.
Geoffroy.--Vauquelin and Percy.--Dr. Pemberton.--Sir John
Sinclair.--Dr. James.--Dr. Cranstoun.--Dr. Taylor.--Drs.
Hufeland and Abernethy.--Sir Gilbert Blane.--Dr. Gregory.--Dr.
Cullen.--Dr. Rush.--Dr. Lambe.--Prof. Lawrence.--Dr.
Salgues.--Author of "Sure Methods."--Baron Cuvier.--Dr. Luther
V. Bell.--Dr. Buchan.--Dr. Whitlaw.--Dr. Clark.--Prof.
Mussey.--Drs. Bell and Condie.--Dr. J. V. C. Smith.--Mr.
Graham.--Dr. J. M. Andrews, Jr.--Dr. Sweetser.--Dr.
Pierson.--Physician in New York.--Females' Encyclopedia.--Dr.
| 567.5731 | 2,695 |
2023-11-16 18:25:14.5548670
| 2,935 | 63 |
Produced by Greg Bergquist and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[Illustration: Caleb Huse]
DEAR SIR:--
In the Summer of 1903, two friends of Major Huse were hospitably
entertained by him at his charming home, "The Rocks," on the Hudson,
just south of West Point, and, during their visit, were greatly
interested in listening to his recital of some of his experiences as
agent in Europe for purchasing army supplies for the Confederate States
during the Civil war.
I was so impressed by this unique bit of history that I succeeded, after
much urging, in inducing him to write it, believing that it should be
preserved, and knowing that no one else could furnish it.
His four years' experience would, if fully told, fill a large volume,
but this brief recital is all that can be hoped for.
I am sending you herewith a copy of this pamphlet. If you wish to keep
it, please send 25 cents in enclosed coin card. If you do not want it,
please return it flat by pasting the enclosed stamped and addressed
envelope on the enclosing envelope.
Yours truly,
J. S. ROGERS.
Room 118, Barristers Hall,
15 Pemberton Square,
Boston, Mass.
THE SUPPLIES
FOR THE
CONFEDERATE ARMY
HOW THEY WERE OBTAINED IN EUROPE
AND HOW PAID FOR
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES AND
UNPUBLISHED HISTORY
BY
CALEB HUSE
MAJOR AND PURCHASING AGENT, C. S. A.
BOSTON
PRESS OF T. R. MARVIN & SON
1904
BY JAMES S. ROGERS
BOSTON, MASS.
In the Summer of 1903, two friends of Major Huse were hospitably
entertained by him at his charming home, "The Rocks," on the Hudson,
just south of West Point, and, during their visit, were greatly
interested in listening to his recital of some of his experiences as
agent in Europe for purchasing army supplies for the Confederate States
during the Civil war.
So impressed were they by this unique bit of history that they
succeeded, after much urging, in inducing him to write it, believing
that it should be preserved, and knowing that no one else could furnish
it.
His four years' experience would, if fully told, fill a large volume,
but this brief recital is all that can be hoped for.
If the cost of publication is not met by the nominal price charged for
this pamphlet, the satisfaction of preserving the record in print will
compensate for any loss sustained by the
TWO FRIENDS.
_August, 1904._
REMINISCENCES
On my return in May, 1860, from a six months' leave of absence spent in
Europe, I found an appointment as professor of chemistry and commandant
of cadets in the University of Alabama awaiting my acceptance. During my
absence the President of the University and a committee of the Board of
Trustees visited West Point and the Virginia Military Institute and,
pleased with the discipline of both institutions, decided to adopt the
military system, and applied to Colonel Delafield, then the
Superintendent at West Point, for an officer to start them. Col.
Delafield gave them my name but was unable to say whether or not I would
resign from the army. I was then a first lieutenant of artillery; and,
as such, was on the rolls of the garrison of Fort Sumter.
I accepted the position and began my duties in September. My leave of
absence had expired in May; but the authorities of the University,
fearing that I might regret severing irrevocably my connection with the
army--which I had entered as a cadet at sixteen--obtained from the
Secretary of War an extension of the leave till May, 1861, when I was to
resign if all was satisfactory at that time.
It is proper to mention here that the introduction of military drill and
discipline at the State University had no connection whatever with any
secession movement in Alabama, and the fact that a Massachusetts-born
man and of Puritan descent was selected to inaugurate the system, will,
or ought to be, accepted as confirmatory of this assertion.
Discipline was almost at an end at the University, and in seeking ways
and means for restoring it, the attention of the Faculty and Trustees
was directed to the Virginia Military Institute which had been in
successful operation for about fifty years. As this institution had been
organized by a graduate of West Point, and in some respects resembled
the United States Military Academy, it was hoped that in Alabama good
results might be secured by the adoption of similar methods.
Military drill is taught at the present time in many schools and
colleges, but the intention of the Alabama University authorities was
not merely to drill students, but to hold them under military restraint,
as is effectually done at West Point, and, I may add, as cannot be done
in any college designed to qualify young men to become civilian members
of a great republic.
West Point and Annapolis have proved themselves noble institutions for
the purpose for which they were designed--that of training young men to
become officers over other men--but the mission of these schools is not
to fit young men for civil life. Their methods cannot be grafted upon
literary or technical civil institutions, and it is not desirable that
they should be applied to civil colleges or schools of any kind. But the
University of Alabama was a military college so far as concerned
discipline, and to this end I was given a Colonel's commission by the
Governor of the State, with two assistants, one a major, the other a
captain. Tents, arms and infantry equipments were purchased of the
United States Government, and a uniform similar to that of the West
Point cadets was adopted. The students were assembled on the first of
September, and a camp established on the University grounds. Drills were
inaugurated at once and regular camp duties were required and performed.
Everything seemed to be progressing very satisfactorily till one day,
some three weeks after the pitching of the camp, the President of the
University (Dr. Garland) desired to see me at his office. On entering I
found him and a trusted professor awaiting my coming, with disturbed
looks. No time was wasted in the preliminaries; Dr. Garland came to the
point at once by telling me that there was a mutiny brewing in my camp
which it would be impossible for me to quell. He then explained that the
cadets were dissatisfied because I was a northern-born man; that they
called me a d----d Yankee, and intended running me out of the State. He
thought they would be successful, for the ringleaders were old students
who had given a great deal of trouble before I came, and, what made the
matter worse, these students were sons of influential men in the State,
and the mothers of the mutineers were encouraging them.
I asked if any of the Trustees or the Faculty wished me to resign and
was assured of the contrary. I then said that, but for one thing, I
should have no hesitation in resigning. The cadets, backed by their
families, had threatened to run me out of the State; I should put upon
them the responsibility of executing their threat; I should not resign.
I went back to camp and never heard anything more about the "mutiny."
I mention this incident only to show the feeling existing in an extreme
southern State at that time--less than two months before the election of
President Lincoln.
The story of the intended mutiny was well founded, and was only one
phase of the general feeling of unrest throughout Alabama. But, even at
that time, which was within six weeks of election day, the idea of
secession did not prevail. Probably had its people been called upon to
vote on the question, there would have been a very large majority
against secession. After the election in November the unrest manifestly
increased, and conservative men began to consider secession possible and
even probable.
At the University there was no excitement. Instruction went on as usual
and the era of orderly deportment, begun in camp, continued, much to the
satisfaction of every one and especially to the citizens of Tuscaloosa.
But military discipline, to which, as admitted by every one, the
improved deportment was due, added to the outgo of the University
without materially increasing its income, and the only hope of obtaining
money to meet the increased expenses was through an appropriation by the
Legislature. To secure this, President Garland proposed that the
battalion of Cadets--for so the students were called--should go to
Montgomery and be reviewed by the Governor and by the Legislature, which
was then in session.
This idea was strongly opposed not only by members of the Faculty but by
men whose sons were in the University. The fear prevailed that the
students would be unmanageable under the many temptations which
Montgomery would afford, and that even the well-meant hospitality of the
citizens, which was sure to be generous, would cause trouble. Whether to
make the trip or not was left to my decision. I decided without
hesitation in favor of the expedition, and arrangements were made for
two steamboats, one to take us down the Black Warrior, the other for the
journey up the Alabama to Montgomery.
In Mobile the cadets were cordially received, and conducted themselves
to my entire satisfaction. On the steamboats their behavior was all that
could be desired, and in Montgomery everybody was proud of their
appearance and deportment. For sleeping accommodations the cadets
carried their own blankets and turned in on the floor of a large hall.
Camp discipline was maintained and perfect order prevailed.
The battalion was reviewed in front of the State House by the Governor
and both Houses of the Legislature, and everything passed off most
satisfactorily. In the evening, after the review, a committee of the
Legislature called on me and asked what I wanted. The reply was: An
annual appropriation so long as the military organization was maintained
at the University.
I remember that a cousin of Senator John P. Hale of New Hampshire (one
of the most pronounced abolitionists of the country) was a member of
the committee. He said to me: "Now you come up to the House tomorrow and
see how we will put this matter through." I did so, and certainly it was
"put through," for, while I was there the bill was given all its
readings--the rules being suspended for the purpose--and it was taken to
the Senate and similarly rushed. The Governor signed it, and the next
day the cadets started on their return home.
We had left Tuscaloosa in a heavy rain-storm, escorted to the
steamboat--some two miles--by the Montgomery Guards. The trip had been
entirely successful and there had not been a case of misbehavior from
start to finish. Of course drinking was the one thing to be feared, and
when one considers all the temptations on the steamboats and in Mobile
and Montgomery, it is a little remarkable that there were no infractions
of the rules, one of which was that no cadet should enter a bar-room on
pain of instant dismissal.
As already stated, I went to the University of Alabama under leave of
absence which was to terminate in May, 1861. In February I received an
order revoking the unexpired portion of my leave and directing me to
report for duty in Washington. I replied that my leave was granted with
the understanding that I was to resign at its expiration, and as I saw
no reason to alter my determination, I offered my resignation. There was
no expectation on my part that my future would be any other than such as
my position as professor in the University of Alabama would occasion.
My resignation was accepted February 25th. In April--I think it was
April 1st--I received a telegram from the Confederate States Secretary
of the Navy Mallory, to "come to Montgomery and take a commission for
active service." I think I am quoting the words of the message. I
started without delay, and on arriving in Montgomery was introduced to
Secretary of War Walker, who soon said to me: "The President has
designated you to go to Europe for the purchase of arms and military
supplies; when can you go?" I replied that, of course, I could go
immediately, but if any preparations were to be made which would
require time, I should like to return to my family before starting.
"Take ten days," said he. "Be back here at the end of that time." I was
then introduced to Col. Gorgas, Chief of Ordnance, to whom I was to
report.
I returned to Tuscaloosa and early in the morning of the tenth day of my
leave of absence, I drove into Montgomery on the top of a stage-coach.
When near the town we met a man on horseback who shouted that Beauregard
had opened fire on Sumter. By this I know that it was April 12th. There
was naturally much excitement in Montgomery, especially about the War
and Navy Departments.
On reporting to Col. Gorgas, I found that no arrangements had been made
for my going to Europe. I had no orders and did not know what I was
| 567.874277 | 2,696 |
2023-11-16 18:25:14.6915700
| 1,087 | 394 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
POEMS FROM EASTERN SOURCES:
THE STEADFAST PRINCE;
AND OTHER POEMS.
BY
RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.
LONDON:
EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.
MDCCCXLII.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
CONTENTS.
POEMS FROM EASTERN SOURCES.
PAGE
ALEXANDER AT THE GATES OF PARADISE.—A LEGEND
FROM THE TALMUD 3
CHIDHER’S WELL 11
THE BANISHED KINGS 14
THE BALLADS OF HAROUN AL RASCHID:
I.—THE SPILT PEARLS 20
II.—THE BARMECIDES 24
III.—THE FESTIVAL 35
THE EASTERN NARCISSUS 41
THE SEASONS:
I.—WINTER 43
II.—SPRING 46
III.—SUMMER 49
IV.—AUTUMN 52
MOSES AND JETHRO 55
PROVERBS, TURKISH AND PERSIAN 60
“THE GOOD THAT ONE MAN FLINGS ASIDE” 64
LOVE 67
THE FALCON 69
LIFE THROUGH DEATH:
I.—“A PAGAN KING TORMENTED FIERCELY ALL” 71
II.—“A DEW-DROP FALLING ON THE WILD SEA
WAVE” 73
III.—“THE SEED MUST DIE, BEFORE THE CORN
APPEARS” 74
THE WORLD 75
THE MONK AND SINNER 78
“WHAT, THOU ASKEST, IS THE HEAVEN, AND THE
ROUND EARTH AND THE SEA” 81
THE SUPPLIANT 84
THE PANTHEIST; OR, THE ORIGIN OF EVIL 87
GHAZEL 90
THE RIGHTEOUS OF THE WORLD 91
MAXIMS 94
THE FALCON’S REWARD 96
THE CONVERSION OF ABRAHAM 101
SONNET 103
THE DEAD DOG 104
“FAIR VESSEL HAST THOU SEEN WITH HONEY FILLED” 106
FRAGMENTS:
I.—THE CERTAINTY OF FAITH 108
II.—MAN’S TWOFOLD NATURE 109
III.—SCIENCE AND LOVE 110
IV.—“THE BUSINESS OF THE WORLD IS CHILD’S
PLAY MERE” 111
V.—“SAGE, THAT WOULD’ST MAKER OF THINE OWN
GOD BE” 112
VI.—“MAN, THE CAGED BIRD THAT OWNED AN
HIGHER NEST” 113
NOTES TO THE POEMS FROM EASTERN SOURCES 115
THE STEADFAST PRINCE:
PART I. 125
PART II. 152
ORPHEUS AND THE SIRENS 173
ST. CHRYSOSTOM 184
THE OIL OF MERCY 185
THE TREE OF LIFE.—FROM THE GERMAN OF RÜCKERT 192
THE TREE OF LIFE.—FROM AN OLD LATIN POEM 195
PARADISE.—FROM THE GERMAN OF RÜCKERT 199
THE LOREY LEY.—FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE 203
“OH THOU OF DARK FOREBODINGS DREAR” 205
THE PRODIGAL 206
THE CORREGAN.—A BALLAD OF BRITTANY 208
SONNET 214
SONNET 215
SONNET 216
THE ETRURIAN KING 217
THE FAMINE 219
THE PRIZE OF SONG 231
NOTES 235
ERRATA.
Page 39, line 9, for _one_ read _our_.
— 191, — 11, dele comma.
— 215, — 2, for _light_ read _slight_.
POEMS
FROM
EASTERN SOURCES.
NOTE.
The following Poems bear somewhat a vague title, because
such only would describe the nature of Poems which have been
derived in very different degrees from the sources thus indicated.
Some are mere translations; others have been modelled anew,
and only such portions used of the originals as were adapted to
my purpose: of others it is only the imagery and thought which
are Eastern, and these have been put together in new combinations;
while of others it is the
| 568.01098 | 2,697 |
2023-11-16 18:25:14.9124210
| 1,136 | 396 |
Produced by Donald Lainson
THE FATAL BOOTS.
by William Makepeace Thackeray
THE FATAL BOOTS:--
January.--The Birth of the Year
February.--Cutting Weather
March.--Showery
April.--Fooling
May.--Restoration Day
June.--Marrowbones and Cleavers
July.--Summary Proceedings
August.--Dogs have their Days
September.--Plucking a Goose
October.--Mars and Venus in Opposition
November.--A General Post Delivery
December.--"The Winter of Our Discontent"
THE FATAL BOOTS
JANUARY.--THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR.
Some poet has observed, that if any man would write down what has really
happened to him in this mortal life, he would be sure to make a good
book, though he never had met with a single adventure from his birth to
his burial. How much more, then, must I, who HAVE had adventures, most
singular, pathetic, and unparalleled, be able to compile an instructive
and entertaining volume for the use of the public.
I don't mean to say that I have killed lions, or seen the wonders of
travel in the deserts of Arabia or Prussia; or that I have been a very
fashionable character, living with dukes and peeresses, and writing my
recollections of them, as the way now is. I never left this my native
isle, nor spoke to a lord (except an Irish one, who had rooms in our
house, and forgot to pay three weeks' lodging and extras); but, as our
immortal bard observes, I have in the course of my existence been so
eaten up by the slugs and harrows of outrageous fortune, and have been
the object of such continual and extraordinary ill-luck, that I believe
it would melt the heart of a milestone to read of it--that is, if a
milestone had a heart of anything but stone.
Twelve of my adventures, suitable for meditation and perusal during the
twelve months of the year, have been arranged by me for this work. They
contain a part of the history of a great, and, confidently I may say,
a GOOD man. I was not a spendthrift like other men. I never wronged any
man of a shilling, though I am as sharp a fellow at a bargain as any in
Europe. I never injured a fellow-creature; on the contrary, on
several occasions, when injured myself, have shown the most wonderful
forbearance. I come of a tolerably good family; and yet, born to
wealth--of an inoffensive disposition, careful of the money that I
had, and eager to get more,--I have been going down hill ever since
my journey of life began, and have been pursued by a complication of
misfortunes such as surely never happened to any man but the unhappy Bob
Stubbs.
Bob Stubbs is my name; and I haven't got a shilling: I have borne the
commission of lieutenant in the service of King George, and am NOW--but
never mind what I am now, for the public will know in a few pages more.
My father was of the Suffolk Stubbses--a well-to-do gentleman of Bungay.
My grandfather had been a respected attorney in that town, and left my
papa a pretty little fortune. I was thus the inheritor of competence,
and ought to be at this moment a gentleman.
My misfortunes may be said to have commenced about a year before my
birth, when my papa, a young fellow pretending to study the law in
London, fell madly in love with Miss Smith, the daughter of a tradesman,
who did not give her a sixpence, and afterwards became bankrupt. My papa
married this Miss Smith, and carried her off to the country, where I was
born, in an evil hour for me.
Were I to attempt to describe my early years, you would laugh at me as
an impostor; but the following letter from mamma to a friend, after her
marriage, will pretty well show you what a poor foolish creature she
was; and what a reckless extravagant fellow was my other unfortunate
parent:--
"TO MISS ELIZA KICKS, IN GRACECHURCH STREET, LONDON.
"OH, ELIZA! your Susan is the happiest girl under heaven! My Thomas is
an angel! not a tall grenadier-like looking fellow, such as I always
vowed I would marry:--on the contrary, he is what the world would call
dumpy, and I hesitate not to confess, that his eyes have a cast in them.
But what then? when one of his eyes is fixed on me, and one on my babe,
they are lighted up with an affection which my pen cannot describe, and
which, certainly, was never bestowed upon any woman so strongly as upon
your happy Susan Stubbs.
"When he comes home from shooting, or the farm, if you COULD see dear
Thomas with me and our dear little Bob! as I sit on one knee, and baby
on the other, and as he dances us both about. I often wish that we had
Sir Joshua, or some great painter, to depict the group; for sure it is
the prettiest
| 568.231831 | 2,698 |
2023-11-16 18:25:14.9940650
| 376 | 56 |
Produced by David Edwards, Ross Cooling and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at
http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet
Archive/American Libraries.)
[Illustration: --It was long past midnight,--she had a heap of Mr.
L----'s old letters beside her. She denied that she was in tears.]
LEONORA
BY
MARIA EDGEWORTH
[Illustration]
"O lady Leonora! lady Leonora is ill!" exclaimed
every voice. The consternation was wonderful.
LONDON
J.M. DENT & Co. ALDINE HOUSE
69, GREAT EASTERN STREET, E.C.
1893
[Illustration]
NOTE.
Leonora, though not published until 1806, was commenced three years
before that date: the circumstances under which it was written were to a
certain extent unique in Maria Edgeworth's life; for we are told that
throughout the time occupied in writing the story, she had in mind the
offer of marriage made to her by Monsieur Edelcrantz, a Swedish
gentleman of good position, "of superior understanding and mild
manners," as she told her aunt in a letter partly written before the
proposal and finished afterwards. This seems, from the biographies, to
have been the only time this truly good and sensible woman was ever
sought in marriage by any man; and it shows some of the good qualities
she possessed, that though she refused him, yet from the respect she
bore him and the esteem in which she held him, this story was written to
a large extent with a view
| 568.313475 | 2,699 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.