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[Illustration: The Girls Sat On the Broad Piazza.]
THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT PALM BEACH
OR
PROVING THEIR METTLE UNDER SOUTHERN SKIES
By
LAURA DENT CRANE
Author of The Automobile Girls at Newport, The Automobile
Girls in the Berkshires, The Automobile Girls Along the
Hudson, The Automobile Girls at Chicago, etc.
Illustrated
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
Copyright, 1913, by
Howard E. Altemius
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
I. The Land of Dreams 7
II. A West Indian Squall 21
III. The Fair Unknown 32
IV. The Compact 43
V. The Daughter of Mrs. De Lancey Smythe 51
VI. The Countess Sophia 64
VII. Tea in the Cocoanut Grove 75
VIII. The Warning 87
IX. A Case of Mistaken Identity 95
X. The Secret Signals 105
XI. Wheels Within Wheels 113
XII. Maud Refuses to Be Rescued 123
XIII. A Surprise Party 132
XIV. The Plot Thickens 147
XV. Caught Napping 154
XVI. Welcome and Unwelcome Guests 166
XVII. The Midnight Intruder 179
XVIII. The Water Fete 189
XIX. Red Dominos 200
XX. Conclusion 204
The Automobile Girls at Palm Beach
CHAPTER I
THE LAND OF DREAMS
"I don't believe anything could be more lovely than this," exclaimed
Mollie Thurston, leaning back in a wicker chair on the piazza of one of
the largest hotels at Palm Beach.
"Right you are!" replied her friend, Ruth Stuart, as she gazed across
the still blue waters of Lake Worth dotted with pleasure boats. "I can't
decide whether I should like to ride in the automobile, or sail, or just
sit in the cocoanut grove and listen to the music. Life seems so easy
under a blue sky like this, and there are so many things to do that it
is hard to make a choice."
"What do people usually do at this hour?" Grace Carter asked. "A woman I
talked with on the train told me there was a programme of amusements for
every hour at Palm Beach."
"Well, my dear, you have only to gaze about you and see for yourself. It
is now high noon," answered Ruth, consulting her watch.
Grace glanced quickly about her. All along the broad piazza, and under
awnings on the lawn, a gay company of men, women and young people were
sipping delicious iced fruit drinks in tall, thin glasses.
"It is undoubtedly the witching hour for pineapple lemonades," said
Ruth. "And we must be in the fashion immediately. Papa," she called to
her father, who was immersed in the pages of a New York newspaper
several days old, "you are not doing your duty by us. We are getting
awfully thirsty."
Mr. Stuart, clad in white, and looking the picture of comfort, smiled
lazily over his paper at his daughter. "Order what you like, my dear. Am
I not always at the command of the 'Automobile Girls'? What do you wish,
little lady?" he asked, turning to Barbara Thurston, who had been lost
in a day-dream and had heard nothing of the conversation.
"I haven't any wish," responded Barbara. "I am too happy to be troubled
with wishes."
"Then suppose I wish for you, Bab?" suggested Ruth. "Go back to your own
sweet dreams. I'll wake you when the wish comes true."
Presently the four girls were sipping their fruit lemonades like the
rest of the world at Palm Beach. On the breeze the sound of music was
wafted to them from a morning concert in the distance.
"Where is Aunt Sallie?" Ruth suddenly asked, again interrupting her
father's reading. "This place has bewitched me so that I have forgotten
even my beloved aunt. This is the land of dreams, I do believe. We are
all spirits from some happy world."
"Here comes your spirit aunt," returned Mr. Stuart, smiling. "She has
evidently been spirited away by some other friendly spirits."
The girls laughed as they saw the substantial figure of Miss Sallie
Stuart strolling down the piazza. She was walking between two other
persons, one a tall, middle-aged man with dark hair slightly tinged with
gray, the other a young woman. They were all three talking animatedly.
"Girls, look!" exclaimed Ruth, in suppressed excitement. "Aunt Sallie is
with that Maud Warren. You remember we met her at Lenox, Bab, and she
tried to ride you down in the famous race. Delightful creature--to keep
away from." Ruth gave a contemptuous sniff, then added. "That nice
looking man must be her father."
"She looks as haughty as ever, and then some more," said Mollie
aggressively.
The girls giggled softly, then straightened their faces for the trio was
almost upon them, and it was not safe to indulge in further
conversation.
After seeing that his charges were
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
BRANCHES
OF THE
LOUISVILLE FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY
An illustrated description of the buildings together with some
interesting figures concerning their cost, equipment and use.
Issued to mark the Tenth Anniversary of the opening of
the first free public library in America
exclusively for readers.
LOUISVILLE, KY.
1915
When you see a book think of the
Public Library
SUMMARY OF WORK
in the
BRANCHES
of the
LOUISVILLE FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY
For Fiscal Year Ending August 31, 1916
Western Eastern TOTAL
Branch Branch
Circulation--adult 17 821 9 289 27 110
juvenile 18 597 18 282 36 879
------ ------ ------
36 418 27 571 63 989
Class room collections 37 303
Stations 3 841
--------
Total circulation through all agencies 105 133
Borrowers registered 632 270 902
Cards in force 4 025 1 298 5 323
Borrowers registered since opening 8 254 1 298 9 552
Reference topics looked up 3 493 1 484 4 977
Persons assisted in reference work
since opening 29 501 3 476 32 977
Pictures loaned 1 942 805 2 747
Books added 1 484 875 2 359
Total books in library 11 269 3 850 15 119
Current periodicals and newspapers received 142
Meetings held in libraries during the year 498
Attendance at meetings 11 628
Following clubs meet regularly in the buildings:
Bannecker Reading Circle
Fisk Club
Dorcas Literary Club
Artisans Club
Girls Dramatic Club
Normal School Gymnastic Class
Physical Culture Club
Wilberforce Club
Y. W. C. A.
Douglass Debating Club
Athletic Association
Jefferson County Teachers Association
Ministerial Alliance
Parent-Teachers Association
Girls Club
Mothers Congress
Story hour
[Illustration: Staff-- Branches]
BRANCHES
LOUISVILLE FREE PUBLIC LIBRARY
In organizing the public library for Louisville it was planned to
have separate buildings for readers. The system consists of
the Main library, eight branches, 230 class room collections in 35
school buildings and 62 stations, a total of 301 centers for the
circulation of books for home use. This includes two branches, 52 class
room collections in 13 school buildings and 6 stations, a total of 60
centers for readers. The total circulation of books for the
year was 1,045,077. Of this number 104,771 volumes were used by
readers.
HISTORY. After the opening of the Main library, the branch came
next. It was opened on September 23, 1905 in temporary quarters in a
residence on Chestnut Street between Tenth and Eleventh. This was the
first free public library in America exclusively for readers
and it marked an epoch in the development of the race. At the same time
the Library Board purchased a corner lot, 69 by 120 feet, at Tenth and
Chestnut Streets. On this site was erected a Carnegie building which
was occupied: October 29, 1908.
[Illustration: Western Branch]
The Western Branch building is 77 feet long and 45 feet wide
and is built of brick and stone with tile roof. The building has a main
floor and basement. On the main floor near the entrance is the delivery
desk and back of it are large tables for reading and reference. To the
left on entering is a newspaper alcove, the librarian’s office and the
special room for children. To the right on entering is the magazine
alcove, a study room and the special room for adults. The basement
floor contains a large lecture room, two class rooms and supply
and boiler rooms. The building is heated throughout by hot water.
The furniture and shelving are beautiful in design and finish, and
provision is made for free access to all the books. The arrangement is
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VOL. XXXII. No. 11.
THE
AMERICAN MISSIONARY.
* * * * *
“To the Poor the Gospel is Preached.”
* * * * *
NOVEMBER, 1878.
_CONTENTS_:
EDITORIAL.
THE ANNUAL MEETING 321
PARAGRAPHS 321, 322
MR. STANLEY’S INTEREST IN CHRISTIAN MISSIONS 322
THE INDIAN AGENTS WE NEED 325
“HAMPTON TRACTS.”—CONGREGATIONALISM IN THE SOUTH 327
SUNDRIES.—GENERAL NOTES 328
THE FREEDMEN.
ALABAMA—Florence: Rev. L. C. Anderson.—A
Memphis Letter.—A New Orleans Letter.—Scholarship
Letters 331–334
AFRICA.
THE MENDI MISSION: Rev. A. P. Miller 334
THE INDIANS.
FORT BERTHOLD, D. T.: Rev. C. L. HALL 337
LAKE SUPERIOR AGENCY: I. L. Mahan 339
RED LAKE AGENCY, MINN: C. P. Allen, M. D. 341
THE CHINESE.
CHINAPHOBIA: Dr. M. C. Briggs 342
THE CHILDREN’S PAGE 343
RECEIPTS 344
* * * * *
NEW YORK:
Published by the American Missionary Association,
ROOMS, 56 READE STREET.
* * * * *
Price, 50 Cents a Year, in advance.
* * * * *
A. Anderson, Printer, 23 to 27 Vandewater St.
_American Missionary Association_,
56 READE STREET, N. Y.
* * * * *
PRESIDENT.
HON. E. S. TOBEY, Boston.
VICE PRESIDENTS.
Hon. F. D. PARISH, Ohio.
Rev. JONATHAN BLANCHARD, Ill.
Hon. E. D. HOLTON, Wis.
Hon. WILLIAM CLAFLIN, Mass.
Rev. STEPHEN THURSTON, D. D., Me.
Rev. SAMUEL HARRIS, D. D., Ct.
Rev. SILAS MCKEEN, D. D., Vt.
WM. C. CHAPIN, Esq., R. I.
Rev. W. T. EUSTIS, Mass.
Hon. A. G. BARSTOW, R. I.
Rev. THATCHER THAYER, D. D., R. I.
Rev. RAY PALMER, D. D., N. Y.
Rev. J. M. STURTEVANT, D. D., Ill.
Rev. W. W. PATTON, D. D., D. C.
Hon. SEYMOUR STRAIGHT, La.
Rev. D. M. GRAHAM, D. D., Mich.
HORACE HALLOCK, Esq., Mich.
Rev. CYRUS W. WALLACE, D. D., N. H.
Rev. EDWARD HAWES, Ct.
DOUGLAS PUTNAM, Esq., Ohio.
Hon. THADDEUS FAIRBANKS, Vt.
SAMUEL D. PORTER, Esq., N. Y.
Rev. M. M. G. DANA, D. D., Ct.
Rev. H. W. BEECHER, N. Y.
Gen. O. O. HOWARD, Oregon.
Rev. EDWARD L. CLARK, N. Y.
Rev. G. F. MAGOUN, D. D., Iowa
Col. C. G. HAMMOND, Ill.
EDWARD SPAULDING, M. D., N. H.
DAVID RIPLEY, Esq., N. J.
Rev. WM. M. BARBOUR, D. D., Ct.
Rev. W. L. GAGE, Ct.
A. S. HATCH, Esq., N. Y.
Rev. J. H. FAIRCHILD, D. D., Ohio.
Rev. H. A. STIMSON, Minn.
Rev. J. W. STRONG, D. D., Minn.
Rev. GEORGE THACHER, LL. D., Iowa.
Rev. A. L. STONE, D. D., California.
Rev. G. H. ATKINSON, D. D., Oregon.
Rev. J. E. RANKIN, D. D., D. C.
Rev. A. L. CHAPIN, D. D., Wis.
S. D. SMITH, Esq., Mass.
Rev. H. M. PARSONS, N. Y.
PETER SMITH, Esq., Mass.
Dea. JOHN WHITING, Mass.
Rev. WM. PATTON, D. D., Ct.
Hon. J. B. GRINNELL, Iowa.
Rev. WM. T. CARR, Ct.
Rev. HORACE WINSLOW, Ct.
Sir PETER COATS, Scotland.
Rev. HENRY ALLON, D. D., London, Eng.
WM. E. WHITING, Esq., N. Y.
J. M. PINKERTON, Esq., Mass.
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY.
REV.
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THE
ELEMENTS OF GEOLOGY;
ADAPTED TO THE USE OF
SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES.
BY
JUSTIN R. LOOMIS,
PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY AND GEOLOGY IN WATERVILLE COLLEGE.
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS.
BOSTON:
GOULD AND LINCOLN,
59 WASHINGTON STREET.
1852
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852,
By GOULD & LINCOLN,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
Stereotyped by
HOBART & ROBBINS,
BOSTON.
PRESS OF G. C. RAND, CORNHILL, BOSTON.
PREFACE
In preparing the following work, it was intended to present a systematic
and somewhat complete statement of the principles of Geology, within
such limits that they may be thoroughly studied in the time usually
allotted to this science.
A sufficient number of leading facts has been introduced to enable the
learner to feel that every important principle is a conclusion to which
he has himself arrived; and yet, for the purpose of compression, that
fullness of detail has been avoided with which more extended works
abound. In furtherance of the same object, authorities are seldom cited.
The consideration of geological changes is made a distinct chapter,
subsequent to the one on the arrangement of materials. It should,
however, be remembered that these processes of arranging and disturbing
are not thus separated in time. In nature the two processes are always
going on together.
It seemed important to exhibit the science with as much unity and
completeness as possible; and hence, discussions upon debatable points
in Theoretical Geology, so interesting to mature geologists, would have
been out of place here; and yet those more intricate subjects have not
been omitted. A large proportion of the work is devoted to the
explanation of geological phenomena, in order to convey an idea of the
modes of investigation adopted, and the kind of evidence relied on.
Where diversities of opinion exist, that view has been selected which
seemed most in harmony with the facts; and the connection has not often
been interrupted to combat, or even to state, the antagonist view.
Technical terms have, in a few instances, been introduced, and
principles referred to, which are subsequently explained. The index
will, however, enable the student to understand them, without a separate
glossary.
Some may prefer to commence with the second chapter, deferring the study
of the elementary substances, minerals and rocks, to the last. Such a
course may be pursued without special inconvenience.
Questions have been added, for the convenience of those teachers who may
prefer to conduct their recitations by this means. But, when the
circumstances of the case admit of it, a much more complete knowledge of
the subject will be acquired by pupils who are required to analyze the
sections, and proceed with the recitation themselves; while the teacher
has only to correct misapprehension, explain what may seem obscure, and
introduce additional illustrations.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
1. Columnar Trap, New Holland. (_Dana._)
2. The four divisions of rocks, and their relative positions. _A_,
Volcanic Rocks. _B_, Granite. 1, 2, 3, 4, Granite of different
ages. _C_, Metamorphic Rocks. _D_, Fossiliferous Rocks.
(_Lyell._)
3. Granite veins in slate, Cape of Good Hope. (_Hall._)
4. Granite veins traversing granite. (_Hitchcock._)
5. Extinct volcanoes of Auvergne. (_Scrope._)
6. Lava of different ages, Auvergne. (_Lyell._)
7. Strata folded and compressed by upheaval of granite.
8. Favosites Gothlandica.
9. Catenipora escharoides. (Chain coral.)
10. Caryocrinus ornatus. (_Hall._)
{ Leptaena alternate. Orthis testudinaria. }
11. { }(_Hall._)
{ Delthyris Niagarensis. }
12. Section of a chambered shell, showing the chambers and the
siphuncle.
13. Orthoceras.
14. Curved Cephalopoda, _a_, Ammonite; _b_, Crioceras; _c_,
Scaphite; _d_, Ancyloceras; _e_, Hamite; _f_, Baculite;
_g_, Turrilite. (_Agassiz and Gould._)
15. Trilobite.
16. Cephalaspis Lyellii. (_Agassiz._)
17. Pterichthys oblongus. (_Agassiz._)
18. Fault in the coal formation, _a a_, layers of coal,
_b b_, surface and soil.
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Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible, including inconsistent spelling and tenses. Some changes
have been made. They are listed at the end of the text.
The table of contents was created by the transcriber.
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
OE ligatures have been expanded.
[Illustration: _H. Corbould._ _W. Chevalier._
_He ran every where in person to put a stop to the pillage and
slaughter._
_Chap. 13._]
THE
HISTORY
_OF_
PETER THE GREAT.
[Illustration:
_H. Corbould._ _W. Chevalier._
_Council him for his own safety,
not to pardon me._
_Chap. 36._]
London:
ENGRAVED FOR THE ENGLISH CLASSICS.
PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL JOHNSON & SON.
MANCHESTER.
THE
HISTORY
OF
PETER THE GREAT,
EMPEROR OF RUSSIA.
FROM THE FRENCH OF VOLTAIRE,
BY SMOLLETT.
MANCHESTER:
S. JOHNSON & SON, No. 3, OLDHAM-STREET;
AND 48, CHURCH-ST., LIVERPOOL.
MDCCCXLV.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. Description of Russia.
II. Continuation of the description of Russia, population,
finances, armies, customs, religion: state of Russia before
Peter the Great.
III. The ancestors of Peter the Great.
IV. John and Peter. Horrible Sedition among the
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
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
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WOMAN
VOLUME VI
WOMEN OF THE ROMANCE COUNTRIES
BY
JOHN R. EFFINGER, Ph.D.
OF THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
[Illustration 1:
_BOCCACCIO'S MERRY RACONTEURS
After the painting by Jacques Wagrez
In the meantime, Naples, in the hands of the invaders, had been stained
with blood, and then ravaged by the great plague of which Boccaccio has
given us a picture, and of the idyllic way the rich people passed their
time, in his_ Decameron.]
Woman
In all ages and in all countries
VOLUME VI
WOMEN OF THE ROMANCE COUNTRIES
BY
JOHN R. EFFINGER, Ph.D.
Of the University of Michigan
ILLUSTRATED
PHILADELPHIA
GEORGE BARRIE & SONS, Publishers
PREFACE
No one can deny the influence of woman, which has been a potent factor
in society, directly or indirectly, ever since the days of Mother Eve.
Whether living in Oriental seclusion, or enjoying the freer life of the
Western world, she has always played an important part in the onward
march of events, and exercised a subtle power in all things, great and
small. To appreciate this power properly, and give it a worthy
narrative, is ever a difficult and well-nigh impossible task, at least
for mortal man. Under the most favorable circumstances, the subject is
elusive and difficult of approach, lacking in sequence, and often
shrouded in mystery.
What, then, must have been the task of the author of the present volume,
in essaying to write of the women of Italy and Spain! In neither of
these countries are the people all of the same race, nor do they afford
the development of a constant type for observation or study. Italy, with
its mediaeval chaos, its free cities, and its fast-and-loose allegiance
to the temporal power of the Eternal City, has ever been the despair of
the orderly historian; and Spain, overrun by Goth, by Roman, and by
Moslem host, presents strange contrasts and rare complexities.
Such being the case, this account of the women of the Romance countries
does not attempt to trace in detail their gradual evolution, but rather
to present, in the proper setting, the most conspicuous examples of
their good or evil influence, their bravery or their cowardice, their
loyalty or their infidelity, their learning or their illiteracy, their
intelligence or their ignorance, throughout the succeeding years.
Chroniclers and historians, poets and romancers, have all given valuable
aid in the undertaking, and to them grateful acknowledgment is hereby
made.
JOHN R. EFFINGER.
_University of Michigan._
PART FIRST
ITALIAN WOMEN
CHAPTER I
THE AGE OF THE COUNTESS MATILDA OF TUSCANY
The eleventh century, which culminated in the religious fervor of the
First Crusade, must not on that account be considered as an age of
unexampled piety and devotion. Good men there were and true, and women
of great intellectual and moral force, but it cannot be said that the
time was characterized by any deep and sincere religious feeling which
showed itself in the general conduct of society. Europe was just
emerging from that gloom which had settled down so closely upon the
older civilizations after the downfall of the glory that was Rome, and
the light of the new day sifted but fitfully through the dark curtains
of that restless time. Liberty had not as yet become the shibboleth of
the people, superstition was in the very air, the knowledge of the
wisest scholars was as naught, compared with what we know to-day;
everywhere, might made right.
In a time like this, in spite of the illustrious example of the Countess
Matilda, it cannot be supposed that women were in a very exalted
position. It is even recorded that in several instances, men, as
superior beings, debated as to whether or not women were possessed of
souls. While this momentous question was never settled in a conclusive
fashion, it may be remarked that in the heat of the discussion there
were some who called women angels of light, while there were others who
had no hesitation in declaring that they were devils incarnate, though
in neither case were they willing to grant them the same rights and
privileges which they themselves possessed. Though many other facts of
the same kind might be adduced, the mere existence of such discussion is
enough to prove to the most undiscerning that woman's place in society
was not clearly recognized, and that there were many difficulties to be
overcome before she could consider herself free from her primitive state
of bondage.
In the eye of the feudal law, women were not considered as persons of
any importance whatever. The rights of husbands were practically
absolute, and led to much abuse, as they had a perfectly legal right to
punish wives for their misdeeds, to control their conduct in such a way
as to interfere with their personal liberty, and in general to treat
them as slaves and inferior beings. The whipping-post had not then been
invented as a fitting punishment for the wife beater, as it was
perfectly understood, according to the feudal practices as collected by
Beaumanoir, "that every husband had the right to beat his wife when she
was unwilling to obey his commands, or when she cursed him, or when she
gave him the lie, providing that it was done moderately, and that death
did not ensue." If a wife left a husband who had beaten her, she was
compelled by law to return at his first word of regret, or to lose all
right to their common possessions, even for purposes of her own support.
The daughters of a feudal household had even fewer rights than the wife.
All who are willing to make a candid acknowledgment of the facts must
admit that even to-day, a girl-baby is often looked upon with disfavor.
This has been true in all times, and there are numerous examples to show
that this aversion existed in ancient India, in Greece and Sparta, and
at Rome. The feudal practices of mediaeval Europe were certainly based
upon it, and the Breton peasant of to-day expresses the same idea
somewhat bluntly when he says by way of explanation, after the birth of
a daughter: _Ma femme a fait une fausse couche._ Conscious as all must
be of this widespread sentiment at the present time, it will not be
difficult to imagine what its consequences must have been in so rude a
time as the eleventh century, when education could do so little in the
way of restraining human passion and prejudice. As the whole feudal
system, so far as the succession of power was concerned, was based upon
the principle of primogeniture, it was the oldest son who succeeded to
all his father's lands and wealth, the daughter or daughters being left
under his absolute control. Naturally, such a system worked hardship for
the younger brothers, but then as now it was easier for men to find a
place for themselves in the world than for women, and the army or the
Church rarely failed to furnish some sort of career for all those who
were denied the rights and privileges of the firstborn. The lot of the
sister, however, was pitiful in the extreme (unless it happened that the
older brother was kind and considerate), for if she were in the way she
could be bundled off to a cloister, there to spend her days in solitude,
or she could be married against her will, being given as the price of
some alliance.
The conditions of marriage, however, were somewhat complicated, as it
was always necessary to secure the consent of three persons before a
girl of the higher class could go to the altar in nuptial array. These
three persons were her father or her guardian, her lord and the king. It
was Hugo who likened the feudal system to a continually ascending
pyramid with the king at the very summit, and that interminable chain of
interdependence is well illustrated in the present case. Suppose the
father, brother, or other guardian had decided upon a suitable husband
for the daughter of the house, it was necessary that he should first
gain the consent of that feudal lord to whom he gave allegiance, and
when this had been obtained, the king himself must give his royal
sanction to the match. Nor was this all, for a feudal law said that any
lord can compel any woman among his dependants to marry a man of his own
choosing after she has reached the age of twelve. Furthermore, there was
in existence a most cruel, barbarous, and repulsive practice which gave
any feudal lord a right to the first enjoyment of the person of the
bride of one of his vassals. As Legouve has so aptly expressed it: _Les
jeunes gens payaient de leur corps en allant a la guerre, les jeunes
filles en allant a l'autel._
Divorce was a very simple matter at this time so far as the husband was
concerned, for he it was who could repudiate his wife, disown her, and
send her from his door for almost any reason, real or false. In earlier
times, at the epoch when the liberty of the citizen was the pride of
Rome, marriage almost languished there on account of the misuse of
divorce, and both men and women were allowed to profit by the laxity of
the laws on this subject. Seneca said, in one instance: "That Roman
woman counts her years, not by the number of consuls, but by the number
of her husbands." Juvenal reports a Roman freedman as saying to his
wife: "Leave the house at once and forever! You blow your nose too
frequently. I desire a wife with a dry nose." When Christianity
appeared, then, the marriage tie was held in slight consideration, and
it was only after many centuries and by slow degrees that its sanctity
was recognized, and its rights respected. While, under the Roman law,
both men and women had been able to get a divorce with the same ease,
the feudal idea, which gave all power into the hands of the men, made
divorce an easy thing for the men alone, but this was hardly an
improvement, as the marriage relation still lacked stability.
It must not be supposed that all the mediaeval ideas respecting marriage
and divorce and the condition of women in general, which have just been
explained, had to do with any except those who belonged in some way to
the privileged classes, for such was not the case. At that time, the
great mass of the people in Europe--men and women--were ignorant to the
last degree, possessing little if any sense of delicacy or refinement,
and were utterly uncouth. For the most part, they lived in miserable
hovels, were clothed in a most meagre and scanty way, and were little
better than those beasts of burden which are compelled to do their
master's bidding. Among these people, rights depended quite largely upon
physical strength, and women were generally misused. To the lord of the
manor it was a matter of little importance whether or not the serfs upon
his domain were married in due form or not; marriage as a sacrament had
little to do with these hewers of wood and drawers of water, and they
were allowed to follow their own impulses quite generally, so far as
their relations with each other were concerned. The loose moral
practices of the time among the more enlightened could be but a bad
example for the benighted people of the soil; consequently, throughout
all classes of society there was a degree of corruption and immorality
which is hardly conceivable to-day.
So far as education was concerned, there were but a few who could enjoy
its blessings, and these were, for the most part, men. Women, in their
inferior and unimportant position, rarely desired an education, and more
rarely received one. Of course, there were conspicuous exceptions to
this rule; here and there, a woman working under unusually favorable
circumstances was really able to become a learned person. Such cases
were extremely rare, however, for the true position of woman in society
was far from being understood. Schools for women were unknown; indeed,
there were few schools of any kind, and it was only in the monasteries
that men were supposed to know how to read and write. Even kings and
queens were often without these polite accomplishments, and the right of
the sword had not yet been questioned. Then, it must be taken into
consideration that current ideas regarding education in Italy in this
early time were quite different from what they are to-day. As there were
no books, book learning was impossible, and the old and yellowed
parchments stored away in the libraries of the monasteries were
certainly not calculated to arouse much public enthusiasm. Education at
this time was merely some sort of preparation for the general duties of
life, and the nature of this preparation depended upon a number of
circumstances.
To make the broadest and most general classification possible, the women
of that time might be divided into ladies of high degree and women of
the people. The former were naturally fitted by their training to take
their part in the spectacle of feudal life with proper dignity; more
than that, they were often skilled in all the arts of the housewife, and
many times they showed themselves the careful stewards of their
husbands' fortunes. The women of the people, on the other hand, were not
shown any special consideration on account of their sex, and were quite
generally expected to work in the fields with the men. Their homes were
so unworthy of the name that they required little care or thought, and
their food was so coarse that little time was given to its preparation.
Simple-minded, credulous, superstitious in the extreme, with absolutely
no intellectual uplift of any kind, and nothing but the sordid drudgery
of life with which to fill the slow-passing hours, it is no wonder that
the great mass of both the men and the women of this time were
hopelessly swallowed up in a many- sea of ignorance, from which,
with the march of the centuries, they have been making slow efforts to
rise. So the lady sat in the great hall in the castle, clad in some
gorgeous gown of silk which had been brought by the patient caravans,
through devious ways, from the far and mysterious East; surrounded by
her privileged maidens, she spun demurely and in peace and quiet, while
out in the fields the back of the peasant woman was bent in ceaseless
toil. Or again, the lady of the manor would ride forth with her lord
when he went to the hunt, she upon her white palfrey, and he upon his
black charger, and each with hooded falcon on wrist; for the gentle art
of falconry was almost as much in vogue among the women as among the men
of the time. Often it happened that during the course of the hunt it
would be necessary to cross a newly planted field, or one heavy with the
ripened grain, and this they did gaily and with never a thought for the
hardship that they might cause; and as they swept along, hot after the
quarry, the poor, mistreated peasant, whether man or woman, dared utter
no word of protest or make moan, nor did he or she dare to look boldly
and unabashed upon this hunting scene, but rather from the cover of some
protecting thicket. Scenes of this kind will serve to show the great
gulf which there was between the great and the lowly; and as there was
an almost total lack of any sort of education in the formal sense of the
word, it will be readily understood that all that education could mean
for anybody was that training which was incident to the daily round of
life, whatever it happened to be. So the poor and dependent learned to
fear and sometimes to hate their masters, and the proud and haughty
learned to consider themselves as superior and exceptional beings.
With society in such a state as this, the question will naturally arise:
What did the Church do under these circumstances to ameliorate the
condition of the people and to advance the cause of woman? The only
answer to this question is a sorry negative, as it soon becomes
apparent, after an investigation of the facts, that in many cases the
members of the clergy themselves were largely responsible for the wide
prevalence of vice and immorality. It must be remembered that absolution
from sin and crime in those days was but a matter of money price and
that pardons could be easily bought for any offence, as the venality of
the clergy was astounding. The corruption of the time was great, and the
priests themselves were steeped in crime and debauchery. In former
generations, the Church at Rome had many times issued strict orders
against the marriage of the clergy, and, doubtless as one of the
consequences of this regulation, it had become the custom for many of
the priests to have one or more concubines with whom they, in most
cases, lived openly and without shame. The monasteries became, under
these conditions, dens of iniquity, and the nunneries were no better.
The nunnery of Saint Fara in the eleventh century, according to a
contemporary description, was no longer the residence of holy virgins,
but a brothel of demoniac females who gave themselves up to all sorts of
shameless conduct; and there are many other accounts of the same general
tenor. Pope Gregory VII. tried again to do something for the cause of
public morality, in 1074, when he issued edicts against both concubinage
and simony--or the then prevalent custom of buying or selling
ecclesiastical preferment; but the edict was too harsh and unreasonable
with regard to the first, inasmuch as it provided that no priest should
marry in the future, and that those who already possessed wives or
concubines were to give them up or relinquish their sacred offices. This
order caused great consternation, especially in Milan, where the clergy
were honestly married, each man to one wife, and it was found impossible
to exact implicit obedience to its requirements.
So far as the general influence of women upon the feudal society of
Italy in the eleventh century is concerned, it is not discoverable to
have been manifest in the ways which were common in other countries. It
will be understood, of course, that, in speaking of woman's influence
here, reference is made to the women of the upper classes, as those of
the peasant class cannot be said to
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOLUME 93.
AUGUST 6, 1887.
* * * * *
ALL IN PLAY.
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
Now that your own particular theatrical adviser and follower, Mr. NIBBS,
has left London for a trip abroad, I venture to address you on matters
dramatic. I am the more desirous of so doing because, although the
Season is nearly over, two very important additions have been made to
the London playhouse programme--two additions that have hitherto escaped
your eagle glance. I refer, Sir, to _The Doctor_ at the Globe, and _The
Colonel_ at the Comedy--both from the pen of a gentleman who (while I am
writing this in London) is partaking of the waters at Royat. Mr. BURNAND
is to be congratulated upon the success that has attended both
productions. I had heard rumours that _The Doctor_ had found some
difficulty in establishing himself (or rather herself, because I am
talking of a lady) satisfactorily in Newcastle Street, Strand. It was
said that she required practice, but when I attended her consulting-room
the other evening, I found the theatre full of patients, who were
undergoing a treatment that may be described (without any particular
reference to marriages or "the United States") as "a merry cure." I was
accompanied by a young gentleman fresh from school, and at first felt
some alarm on his account, as his appreciation of the witty dialogue
with which the piece abounds was so intense that he threatened more than
once to die of laughing.
[Illustration: "How happy could he be with either."]
I have never seen a play "go" better--rarely so well. The heroine--the
"_Doctoresse_"--was played with much effect and discretion by Miss
ENSON, a lady for whom I prophesy a bright future. Mr. PENLEY was
excellent in a part that fitted him to perfection. Both Miss VICTOR, as
a "strong woman," and Mr. HILL, as--well, himself,--kept the pit in
roars. The piece is more than a farce. The first two Acts are certainly
farcical, but there is a touch of pathos in the last scene which reminds
one that there is a close relationship between smiles and tears. And
here let me note that the company in the private boxes, even when most
heartily laughing, were still in tiers. As a rule the Doctor is not a
popular person, but at the Globe she is sure to be always welcome. Any
one suffering from that very distressing and prevalent malady, "the
Doleful Dumps," cannot do better than go to Newcastle Street for a
speedy cure.
The _Colonel_ at the Comedy is equally at home, and, on the occasion of
his revival, was received with enthusiasm. Mr. BRUCE has succeeded Mr.
COGHLAN in the title _role_, and plays just as well as his predecessor.
Mr. HERBERT is the original _Forester_, and the rest of the _dramatis
personae_ are worthy of the applause bestowed upon them. To judge from
the laughter that followed every attack upon the aesthetic fad, the
"Greenery Yallery Gallery" is as much to the front as ever--a fact, by
the way, that was amply demonstrated at the _Soiree_ of the Royal
Academy, where "passionate Brompton" was numerously represented.
[Illustration: The Colonel.]
_The Bells of Hazlemere_ seem to be ringing in large audiences at the
Adelphi, although the piece is not violently novel in its plot or
characters. Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE ceases to die "every evening" at the end
of this week at the Opera Comique until November. I peeped in, a few
days since, just before the last scene of _As in a Looking-Glass_, and
found the talented lady on the point of committing her nightly suicide.
Somehow I missed the commencement of the self-murder, and thus could not
satisfactorily account for her dying until I noticed that a double-bass
was moaning piteously. Possibly this double-bass made Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE
wish to die--it certainly created the same desire on my part. Believe
me, yours sincerely,
ONE WHO HAS GONE TO PIECES.
* * * * *
OUR EXCHANGE AND MART.
HOLIDAY INQUIRIES.
ELIGIBLE CONTINENTAL TRAVELLING COMPANION.--A D.C.L., B.M., and R.S.V.P.
of an Irish University, is desirous of meeting with one or two Young
English Dukes who contemplating, as a preliminary to their taking their
seats in the House of Lords, passing a season at Monaco, would consider
the advertiser's society and personal charge, together with his
acquaintance with a system of his own calculated to realise a
substantial financial profit from any lengthened stay in the locality,
an equivalent for the payment of his hotel, travelling, and other
incidental expenses. Highest references given and expected. Apply to
"MASTER OF ARTS." Blindhooky. County Cork.
* * * * *
INVALID OUTING. EXCEPTIONAL ADVANTAGES.--A confirmed Invalid, formerly
an active member of the Alpine Club, who has temporarily lost the use of
his legs, and has in consequence hired a Steam-traction engine attached
to which, in a bath-chair, he proposes making a prolonged excursion
through the most mountainous districts of Wales, is anxious to meet with
five other paralytics who will join him in his contemplated undertaking,
and bear a portion of the expense. As he will take in tow two furniture
vans containing respectively a Cottage-Hospital and a Turkish-bath, and
be accompanied by three doctors, and a German Band, it is scarcely
necessary for him to point out that the details of the trip will be
carried out with a due regard to the necessities of health and
recreation. While the fact that a highly respectable firm of Solicitors
will join him _en route_, will be a guarantee that any vexatious
litigation instituted against him by local boroughs for the crushing and
otherwise damaging their gas and water-mains, or running into their
lamp-posts will, if it occur, be jealously watched and effectually dealt
with. In the not unforeseen, though by no means expected event of the
Traction Engine becoming by some accident permanently wedged in and
unable to move from some inaccessible pass, it is understood that the
party shall separate, and that each member shall be at liberty to return
home by any _route_ he may select for himself as most convenient and
available for the purpose. For all further particulars apply to X. X.
X., Struggle-on-the-Limp, Lame End, Beds.
* * * * *
LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. RARE OPPORTUNITY.--An impecunious Nobleman, whose
income has been seriously reduced owing to the prevailing agricultural
depression, would be willing to let his Family Mansion to a considerate
tenant at a comparatively low rental. As half the furniture has been
seized under a distress-warrant, and as a man in possession is
permanently installed, under a bill of sale, in charge of the rest, a
recluse of aesthetic tastes, to whom a series of rooms entirely devoid of
furniture would present a distinct attraction, and who would find a
little friendly social intercourse not an altogether disagreeable
experience, might discover in the above an eligible opportunity. Some
excellent fishing can be had on the sly in the small hours of the
morning by dodging the local Middle-man to whom it has been let. Capital
rat-shooting over nearly an eighth of an acre of wild farm-yard
buildings. Address, "MARQUIS." Spillover. Herts.
* * * * *
THE BEST PART OF HALF A PACK OF HOUNDS FOR SALE.--A Midland County
Squire, who, through having come into a Suburban Omnibus business, is
about to relinquish his position as a county gentleman, is anxious to
find a purchaser for what is left of a Pack of Hounds, of which he has
for several years been the acknowledged Master. The "remnant" consists
of a Dachshund, a Setter, slightly blind of one eye, two Drawing-room
Pugs, a Lurcher, and a French Poodle, who can tell fortunes with a pack
of cards, jump through three papered hoops at a time, walk round the
room on his fore legs, and take five o'clock tea with any assembled
company. Any enthusiastic huntsman wishing "to ride to hounds" in the
middle of August, could, with a little preliminary training, scarcely
fail to find in the above all the elements that would provide him with a
capital run, even at this comparatively early season of the sporting
year. With a red herring tied on to the fox, they could be warranted not
to miss the scent; and, failing their performances in the field, might
be safely relied on as a striking feature in any provincial Circus. The
advertiser would be glad to hear from a respectable and responsible
sausage manufactory.--Apply, MASTER, Packholme, Kenilworth.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE POETS.
"A CYCLE OF CATHAY."
_Locksley Hall._]
* * * * *
SOME MORE OFFICIAL JILLS.
(_Whom Mr. Punch, with his characteristic sense of justice and
fair-play, is proud to recognise as no less representative than his
earlier types--although he could wish he had the pleasure of
encountering them a little more frequently._)
SCENE--_A large Branch Post Office. The weather is oppressively warm,
and the Public slightly irritable in consequence. Behind the counter are
three Young Ladies, of distinctly engaging appearance, whom we will
call_ Miss GOODCHILD, Miss MEEKIN, _and_ Miss MANNERLY, _respectively.
As the Curtain rises_, Miss GOODCHILD _is laboriously explaining to an
old lady with defective hearing the relative advantages of a Postal and
a Post Office Order_.
_The Old Lady._ Just say it over again, so that a body can hear ye. You
young Misses ought to be taught to speak _out_,'stead o' mumbling
the way you do. _Why_ can't ye give me a Postal Order for
five-and-fourpence, and a'done with it, eh?
_Miss Goodchild (endeavouring to speak distinctly)._ A _Post Office_
Order will be what you require. See, you just fill in that form, and
then I'll make it out--it's quite simple.
_Old Lady._ Yes, I dessay, _anything_ to save yourselves a little
trouble! You're all alike, you Post-Office young women. As if I couldn't
send five-and-fourp
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THE ARAN ISLANDS
BY
JOHN M. SYNGE
Introduction
The geography of the Aran Islands is very simple, yet it may need a
word to itself. There are three islands: Aranmor, the north island,
about nine miles long; Inishmaan, the middle island, about three
miles and a half across, and nearly round in form; and the south
island, Inishere--in Irish, east island,--like the middle island but
slightly smaller. They lie about thirty miles from Galway, up the
centre of the bay, but they are not far from the cliffs of County
Clare, on the south, or the corner of Connemara on the north.
Kilronan, the principal village on Aranmor, has been so much changed
by the fishing industry, developed there by the Congested Districts
Board, that it has now very little to distinguish it from any
fishing village on the west coast of Ireland. The other islands are
more primitive, but even on them many changes are being made, that
it was not worth while to deal with in the text.
In the pages that follow I have given a direct account of my life on
the islands, and of what I met with among them, inventing nothing,
and changing nothing that is essential. As far as possible, however,
I have disguised the identity of the people I speak of, by making
changes in their names, and in the letters I quote, and by altering
some local and family relationships. I have had nothing to say about
them that was not wholly in their favour, but I have made this
disguise to keep them from ever feeling that a too direct use had
been made of their kindness, and friendship, for which I am more
grateful than it is easy to say.
Part I
I am in Aranmor, sitting over a turf fire, listening to a murmur of
Gaelic that is rising from a little public-house under my room.
The steamer which comes to Aran sails according to the tide, and it
was six o'clock this morning when we left the quay of Galway in a
dense shroud of mist.
A low line of shore was visible at first on the right between the
movement of the waves and fog, but when we came further it was lost
sight of, and nothing could be seen but the mist curling in the
rigging, and a small circle of foam.
There were few passengers; a couple of men going out with young pigs
tied loosely in sacking, three or four young girls who sat in the
cabin with their heads completely twisted in their shawls, and a
builder, on his way to repair the pier at Kilronan, who walked up
and down and talked with me.
In about three hours Aran came in sight. A dreary rock appeared at
first sloping up from the sea into the fog; then, as we drew nearer,
a coast-guard station and the village.
A little later I was wandering out along the one good roadway of the
island, looking over low walls on either side into small flat fields
of naked rock. I have seen nothing so desolate. Grey floods of water
were sweeping everywhere upon the limestone, making at limes a wild
torrent of the road, which twined continually over low hills and
cavities in the rock or passed between a few small fields of
potatoes or grass hidden away in corners that had shelter. Whenever
the cloud lifted I could see the edge of the sea below me on the
right, and the naked ridge of the island above me on the other side.
Occasionally I passed a lonely chapel or schoolhouse, or a line of
stone pillars with crosses above them and inscriptions asking a
prayer for the soul of the person they commemorated.
I met few people; but here and there a band of tall girls passed me
on their way to Kilronan, and called out to me with humorous wonder,
speaking English with a slight foreign intonation that differed a
good deal from the brogue of Galway. The rain and cold seemed to
have no influence on their vitality and as they hurried past me with
eager laughter and great talking in Gaelic, they left the wet masses
of rock more desolate than before.
A little after midday when I was coming back one old half-blind man
spoke to me in Gaelic, but, in general, I was surprised at the
abundance and fluency of the foreign tongue.
In the afternoon the rain continued, so I sat here in the inn
looking out through the mist at a few men who were unlading hookers
that had come in with turf from Connemara, and at the long-legged
pigs that were playing in the surf. As the fishermen came in and out
of the public-house underneath my room, I could hear through the
broken panes that a number of them still used the Gaelic, though it
seems to be falling out of use among the younger people of this
village.
The old woman of the house had promised to get me a teacher of the
language, and after a while I heard a shuffling on the stairs, and
the old dark man I had spoken to in the morning groped his way into
the room.
I brought him over to the fire, and we talked for many hours. He
told me that he had known Petrie and Sir William Wilde, and many
living antiquarians, and had taught Irish to Dr. Finck and Dr.
Pedersen, and given stories to Mr. Curtin of America. A little after
middle age he had fallen over a cliff, and since then he had had
little eyesight, and a trembling of his hands and head.
As we talked he sat huddled together over the fire, shaking and
blind, yet his face was indescribably pliant, lighting up with an
ecstasy of humour when he told me anything that had a point of wit
or malice, and growing sombre and desolate again when he spoke of
religion or the fairies.
He had great confidence in his own powers and talent, and in the
superiority of his stories over all other stories in the world. When
we were speaking of Mr. Curtin, he told me that this gentleman had
brought out a volume of his Aran stories in America, and made five
hundred pounds by the sale of them.
'And what do you think he did then?' he continued; 'he wrote a book
of his own stories after making that lot of money with mine. And he
brought them out, and the divil a half-penny did he get for them.
Would you believe that?'
Afterwards he told me how one of his children had been taken by the
fairies.
One day a neighbor was passing, and she said, when she saw it on the
road, 'That's a fine child.'
Its mother tried to say 'God bless it,' but something choked the
words in her throat.
A while later they found a wound on its neck, and for three nights
the house was filled with noises.
'I never wear a shirt at night,' he said, 'but I got up out of my
bed, all naked as I was, when I heard the noises in the house, and
lighted a light, but there was nothing in it.'
Then a dummy came and made signs of hammering nails in a coffin. The
next day the seed potatoes were full of blood, and the child told
his mother that he was going to America.
That night it died, and 'Believe me,' said the old man, 'the fairies
were in it.'
When he went away, a little bare-footed girl was sent up with turf
and the bellows to make a fire that would last for the evening.
She was shy, yet eager to talk, and told me that she had good spoken
Irish, and was learning to read it in the school, and that she had
been twice to Galway, though there are many grown women in the place
who have never set a foot upon the mainland.
The rain has cleared off, and I have had my first real introduction
to the island and its people.
I went out through Killeany--the poorest village in Aranmor--to a
long neck of sandhill that runs out into the sea towards the
south-west. As I lay there on the grass the clouds lifted from the
Connemara mountains and, for a moment, the green undulating
foreground, backed in the distance by a mass of hills, reminded me
of the country near Rome. Then the dun top-sail of a hooker swept
above the edge of the sandhill and revealed the presence of the sea.
As I moved on a boy and a man came down from the next village to
talk to me, and I found that here, at least, English was imperfectly
understood. When I asked them if there were any trees in the island
they held a hurried consultation in Gaelic, and then the man asked
if 'tree' meant the same thing as 'bush,' for if so there were a few
in sheltered hollows to the east.
They walked on with me to the sound which separates this island from
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the Hathi Trust Org. (The Ohio State University)
[Illustration: Front Cover]
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
THE SPIDER.
BY
FERGUS HUME,
AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," "THE SOLITARY FARM," ETC.
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED,
LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO.
1910.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I. A POSSIBLE PARTNERSHIP
II. A CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNICATION
III. HOW THE TRAP WAS SET
IV. WHO WAS CAUGHT IN THE TRAP
V. AFTER THE TRAGEDY
VI. TWO CONVERSATIONS
VII. LADY CORSOON'S APPEAL
VIII. THE GRIEF OF IDA
IX. WITCHCRAFT
X. MYSTERY
XI. THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK
XII. A TEMPTING OFFER
XIII. THE BAZAAR
XIV. RUN TO EARTH
XV. FACE TO FACE
XVI. THE SEARCH
XVII. IN THE TRAIN
XVIII. AT BOWDERSTYKE
XIX. A BOLD OFFER
XX. GERBY HALL
XXI. JUSTICE
XXII. THE END OF IT ALL
THE SPIDER.
CHAPTER I.
A POSSIBLE PARTNERSHIP.
The exterior of The Athenian Club, Pall Mall, represents an ordinary
twentieth century mansion, which it is; but within, the name is
justified by a Græco-Roman architecture of vast spaces, marble floors,
painted ceilings, and pillared walls, adapted, more or less
successfully, to the chilly British climate. The various rooms are
called by Latin names, and the use of these is rigidly enforced.
Standing outside the mansion, you know that you are in London; enter,
and you behold Athens--say, the abode of Alcibiades; listen, and
scraps of speech suggest Imperial Rome. Thus, the tastes of all the
members, whether old and pedantic, or young and frivolous, are
consulted and gratified. Modern slang, as well as the stately tongue
of Virgil, is heard in The Athenian, for the club, like St. Paul, is
all things to all men. For that reason it is a commercial success.
Strangers--they come eagerly with members to behold rumoured
glories--enter the club-house, through imitation bronze gates, into
the vestibulum, and pass through an inner door into the atrium. This
means that they leave the entrance room for the general conversation
apartment. To the right of this, looking from the doorway, is the
tablinum, which answers--perhaps not very correctly as regards the
name--the purposes of a library; to the left a lordly portal gives
admittance into the triclinium, that is, to the dining-room. At the
end of the atrium, which is the neutral ground of the club, where
members and strangers meet, swing-doors shut in the pinacotheca.
Properly this should be a picture-gallery, but, in deference to modern
requirements, it is used as a smoking-room. These three rooms,
spacious, ornate, and lofty, open under a colonnade, or peristyle, on
to a glass-roofed winter garden, which runs like a narrow passage
round the three sides of the building. The viridarium, as the members
call this cultivated strip of land, extends only twenty feet from the
marble pavement of the peristyle, and is bounded by the side-walls and
rear-walls of adjacent houses. It is filled with palms and tropical
plants, with foreign and native flowers, and, owing to a skilful
concealment of its limitations by the use of enormous mirrors,
festooned with creepers and ivy, it really resembles vast
pleasure-gardens extending to great distances. The outlook from
tablinum, pinacotheca, and triclinium is a triumph of perspective.
Below the state apartments on the ground floor are the kitchens, the
domestic offices, and the servants' rooms; above them, the cubicles
are to be found, where members, both resident or non-resident, sleep
when disposed on beds more comfortable than classical. Finally, on the
top floor, and reached by a lift, are billiard-rooms, card-rooms, and
a small gymnasium for those who require exercise. The whole scheme is
modelled on a larger scale from the House of Glaucus, as described by
Bulwer Lytton in "The Last Days of Pompeii." A perusal of this famous
story suggested the novelty to an enterprising builder, and the
Athenian Club is the successful result.
The members of such a club should have been classical scholars, but
these were in the minority. The greater portion of those who
patronised this latest London freak were extremely up-to-date, and
defended their insistent modernity amidst ancient artificial
environment by Acts xvii. 21: "For the Athenians and strangers which
were there spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell, or to
hear some new thing!" And certainly they acted well up to the text,
for all the scandal and novelty of the metropolis seemed to flow from
this pseudo-classical source. Plays were discussed in manuscript,
novels on the eve of publication; inventors came here to suggest plans
for airships, or to explain how the earth could signal to Mars. Some
members had brand new ideas for the improvement of motor mechanism,
others desired to evolve colour from sound, detailing with many words
how music could be made visible. As to politics, the Athenians knew
everything which was going on behind the scenes, and could foretell
equally truthfully a war, a change of Government, the abdication of a
monarch, or the revolt of an oppressed people. If any traveller
arrived from the Land-at-the-Back-of-Beyond with an account of a
newly-discovered island, or an entirely new animal, he was sure to be
a member of the club. Thus, although the interior of the Pall Mall
mansion suggested Greece and Rome, Nero and Pericles, the appointments
for comfort, for the quick dispatch of business or pleasure, and the
ideas, conversation, and dress of the members, were, if anything, six
months ahead of the present year of grace. The Athenian Club was
really a mixture or blending of two far-apart epochs, the very ancient
and the very modern; but the dark ages were left out, as the members
had no use for mediæval ignorance.
Over the mosaic dog with his warning lettering, "Cave Canem,"
strolled, one warm evening in June, a young man of twenty-four, whose
physical appearance was more in keeping with the classical
surroundings than were his faultlessly fitting dress-clothes. His
oval, clean-shaven face was that of a pure-blooded Hellene, his curly
golden hair and large blue eyes like the sky of Italy at noon,
suggested the Sun-god, and his figure, limber, active, and slender,
resembled the Hermes of the Palestra. He was almost aggressively
handsome, and apparently knew that he was, for he swaggered in with a
haughty lord-of-the-world air, entirely confident of himself and of
his capabilities. His exuberant vitality was as pronounced as were his
good looks, and there was a finish about his toilette which hinted at
a determination to make the most of his appearance. He assuredly
succeeded in accentuating what Nature had done for him, since even the
attendant, who approached to remove the young man's light overcoat,
appeared to be struck by this splendid vision of perfect health,
perfect beauty, and perfect lordship of existence. All the fairies
must have come to the cradle of this fortunate young gentleman with
profuse gifts. He seemed to be the embodiment of joyous life.
"Is Mr. Arthur Vernon here?" he asked, settling his waistcoat,
touching the flower in his button-hole, and pulling a handkerchief out
of his left sleeve.
"In the pinacotheca, sir," was the reply, for all the attendants were
carefully instructed in correct pronunciation. "Shall I tell him you
are here, Mr. Maunders?"
The gentleman thus named yawned lazily. "Thanks, I shall see him
myself;" and with a nod to the man, he walked lightly through the
atrium, looking like one of Flaxman's creations, only he was more
clothed.
Throwing keen glances right and left to see who was present and who
was not, Mr. Maunders entered the pinacotheca. This was an oblong
apartment with marble walls on three sides and a lordly range of
pillars on the fourth, which was entirely open to the gardens. Beyond
could be seen the luxuriant vegetation of the undergrowth, whence
sprang tall palms, duplicated in the background of mirrors. The mosaic
pavement of the smoking-room was strewn with Persian praying-mats,
whose vivid colouring matched the pictured floor. There were deep
armchairs and softly-cushioned sofas, all upholstered in dark red
leather, which contrasted pleasantly with the snowy walls. Many
small tables of white metal and classical shapes were dotted here,
there, and everywhere. As it was mid-June and extremely close, the
fireplace--looking somewhat incongruous in such a place--was filled
with ferns and white flowers, in red pots of earthenware, thus
repeating the general scheme of colour. Red and white, snow and fire,
with a spread of green in the viridarium--nothing could have been more
artistic.
Under the peristyle, and near a fountain whence water sprang from the
conch of a Triton to fall into a shallow marble basin with prismatic
hues, were several copper-topped tables. Near them, basket chairs
draped with brightly-hued rugs, were scattered in picturesque
disorder. One of them was occupied by a long, slim man of thirty. With
a cigarette between his lips and a cup of coffee at his elbow, he
stared straight in front of him, but looked up swiftly when he heard
Maunders' springy steps.
"Here you are at last!" he remarked somewhat coolly, and glanced at
his watch. "Why didn't you turn up to dinner as arranged? It's close
on nine o'clock."
"Couldn't get away from my aunt," replied Maunders, slipping leisurely
into an adjacent chair. "She seemed to have the blues about something,
and wouldn't let me go. Never was there so affectionate an aunt as
Mrs. Bedge, and never one so tryingly attentive."
"Considering that she has brought you up in the past, supplies you
with money at present, and intends to make you her heir in the future,
you might talk more kindly of her."
Maunders shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, the Eton-Oxford education was
all right; she did well by me there. But I don't get much money from
her now, and judging from that, I may be heir to very little."
"You ought to be glad that you are an heir to anything," said Vernon
frowning, for his friend's light tones jarred.
"Why?" asked the other. "My parents are dead long since. Aunt Emily is
my only relative, and has neither chick nor child. If she didn't
intend to leave me her money she should not have brought me up to
luxury and idleness."
"It would certainly be better if she had made you work," assented the
host contemptuously; "but you were always lazy and extravagant."
"I was born sitting down; I am a lily of the field and a rose of
Sharon."
"Likewise an ass."
"You think so?" said Maunders drily. "Well, I hope to change your
opinion on that point before we part."
"It will take a deal of changing. But all this talk is beside the
purpose of our meeting. You made this appointment with me, and----"
"Didn't keep it to the minute. I'm nearly two hours late. Well, what
does it matter?"
"Everything to me. I am a busy man," snapped the other sharply.
"So you say." Maunders looked very directly at his host. "Some fellows
don't think so. Your business----"
Vernon interrupted. "I have no business; I am an independent man."
"And yet a busy one," rejoined Maunders softly; "strange."
There was that significance in his tone which made Vernon colour,
although he remained motionless. He certainly was about to make a
hasty observation, but his guest looked at him so straightly and
smilingly, that he bit his lip and refrained from immediate speech.
Maunders, still smiling, took a cigarette from a golden case and
lighted up. "You might offer me a cup of coffee."
Vernon signalled to a passing attendant. "A cup of coffee for Mr.
Maunders."
"With a vanilla bean," directed the other man. "I don't like coffee
otherwise. And hurry up, please!" Then, when the servant departed, he
turned suavely to his host. "I forget what we were talking about."
"So do I," retorted Vernon coolly.
Maunders, smoking delicately, rested his wrists on the copper edge of
the table and looked searchingly into his friend's strong face. And
Vernon's face was strong--much stronger than that of his companion. He
likewise had blue eyes, but of a deep-sea blue, less shallow and more
piercing than those of Maunders. His face was also oval, with finely
cut features, but more scored with thought-marks; and his hair was as
dark, smooth, and short-cropped as that of the other's was golden,
curly, and--odd adjective to use in connection with a man--fluffy.
Both were clean-shaven, but Vernon's mouth was firm, while the lips of
Maunders were less compressed and betrayed indecision. The former had
the more athletic figure, the latter a more graceful one, and although
both were well groomed and well dressed, Vernon was less of the dandy
in his attention to detail. Poetically speaking, one man was Night and
the other Day; but a keen observer would have read that the first used
strength of body and brain to achieve his ends, while the last relied
more on cunning. And from the looks of the twain, cunning and strength
were about to try conclusions. Yet they had been child-friends,
school-friends, and--so far as their paths ran parallel--were
life-friends, with certain reservations.
"You were always as deep as a well, Arty," said Maunders, finally
removing his eyes from the other's face and turning to take his cup of
coffee.
"Don't call me Arty!" snapped Vernon irritably.
"You were Arty at Eton, when we were boys, tall and short."
"We are not at Eton now. I always think that there is something weak
in a man being called by his Christian name outside his family--much
less being ticketed with a confounded diminutive."
"You can call me Conny if you like, as you used to."
"I shan't, or even Constantine. Maunders is good enough for me."
"Oh is he?" The fair man glanced shrewdly over the coffee-cup he was
holding to his lips. "You hold to that."
"I hold to the name, not to the individual," said Vernon curtly.
"You don't trust me."
"I don't. I see no reason to trust you."
"Ah, you will when I explain why I asked you to meet me here," said
Maunders in his frivolous manner.
"I daresay; go on."
His friend sighed. "What a laconic beast you are, Arty."
"My name is Vernon, if you please."
"Always Vernon?" asked Maunders in silky tones. The other man sat up
alertly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I want you to take me into partnership."
"Partnership!" Vernon's face grew an angry red. "What the devil do you
know?"
"Softly! softly! I know many things, although there is no need to
swear. It's bad form, Vernon, deuced bad form. The fact is," he went
on gracefully, "my aunt keeps me short of money, and I want all I can
get to enjoy life. I thought as I am pretty good in finding out things
about people that you might invite me to become a partner in your
detective business."
Vernon cast a hasty glance around. Fortunately, there were no guests
under the peristyle, and only two men, out of earshot, in the
pinacotheca. "You are talking rubbish," he said roughly, yet
apprehensively.
"I don't think so. Your father died three years ago and left you with
next to nothing. Having no profession you did not know what to do,
and, ashamed to beg, borrow, or steal, you turned your powers of
observation to account on the side of the law against the criminal."
Maunders took a card from his waistcoat pocket and passed it along.
"'Nemo, Private Enquiry Agent, 22, Fenella Street, Covent Garden,' is
inscribed on that card. Nemo means Nobody, I believe; yet Nemo, as I
know, means Arthur Vernon of The Athenian Club."
The man addressed tore the card to pieces and threw them amongst the
flowers. "You talk rubbish," he said again, and still roughly. "How do
you connect me with this private enquiry agent?"
"Ah, that's too long a story to tell you just now." Maunders glanced
at his watch. "I am due at a ball in an hour, and want the matter
settled before I leave here."
"What matter?"
"The partnership matter." There was a pause. "Well?"
"I have nothing to say," said Vernon firmly.
Maunders rose. "In that case I'll cut along and go earlier than I
expected to Lady Corsoon's ball."
"Lady Corsoon!" Vernon changed colour and bit his lip.
"Yes. She didn't ask you to her ball, did she? She wouldn't
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ELEMENTS OF MORALS:
WITH
SPECIAL APPLICATION OF THE MORAL LAW TO THE
DUTIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND OF
SOCIETY AND THE STATE.
BY PAUL JANET,
MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, OF THE ACADEMY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL
SCIENCES, AUTHOR OF THEORY OF MORALS, HISTORY OF MORAL
AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, FINAL CAUSES, ETC., ETC.
TRANSLATED BY
MRS. C. R. CORSON.
A. S. BARNES & CO.,
NEW YORK AND CHICAGO
_Copyright, 1884, by A. S. Barnes & Co._
PREFACE.
The _Elements de Morale_, by M. Paul Janet, which we here present to the
educational world, translated from the latest edition, is, of all the
works of that distinguished moralist, the one best adapted to college and
school purposes. Its scholarly and methodical arrangement, its clear and
direct reasonings, its felicitous examples and illustrations, drawn with
rare impartiality from the best ancient and modern writers, make of this
study of Ethics, generally so unattractive to young students, one
singularly inviting. It is a system of morals, practical rather than
theoretical, setting forth man's duties and the application thereto of the
moral law. Starting with _Preliminary Notions_, M. Janet follows these up
with a general division of duties, establishes the general principles of
social and individual morality, and chapter by chapter moves from duties
to duties, developing each in all its ramifications with unerring
clearness, decision, and completeness. Never before, perhaps, was this
difficult subject brought to the comprehension of the student with more
convincing certainty, and, at the same time, with more vivid and
impressive illustrations.
The position of M. Paul Janet is that of the _religious_ moralist.
"He supplies," says a writer in the _British Quarterly Review_,[1] in a
notice of his _Theory of Morals_, "the very element to which Mr. Sully
gives so little place. He cannot conceive morals without religion. Stated
shortly, his position is, that moral good is founded upon a natural and
essential good, and that the domains of good and of duty are absolutely
equivalent. So far he would seem to follow Kant; but he differs from Kant
in denying that there are indefinite duties: every duty, he holds, is
definite as to its _form_; but it is either definite or indefinite as to
its application. As religion is simply belief in the Divine goodness,
morality must by necessity lead to religion, and is like a flowerless
plant if it fail to do so. He holds with Kant that _practical faith_ in
the existence of God is the postulate of the moral law. The two things
exist or fall together."
This, as to M. Janet's position as a moralist; as to his manner of
treating his subject, the writer adds:
"... it is beyond our power to set forth, with approach to success, the
admirable series of reasonings and illustrations by which his positions
are established and maintained."
M. Janet's signal merit is the clearness and decision which he gives to
the main points of his subject, keeping them ever distinctly in view, and
strengthening and supplementing them by substantial and conclusive facts,
drawn from the best sources, framing, so to say, his idea in time-honored
and irrefutable truths.
The law of duty thus made clear to the comprehension of the student,
cannot fail to fix his attention; and between fixing the attention and
striking root, the difference is not very great.
C. R. C.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--Preliminary Notions 1
II.--Division of Duties.--General Principles of Social
Morality 33
III.--Duties of Justice.--Duties toward Human Life 50
IV.--Duties Concerning the Property of Others 63
V.--Duties toward the Liberty and toward the Honor of
Others.--Justice, Distributive and Remunerative.--
Equity 93
VI.--Duties of Charity and Self-Sacrifice 111
VII.--Duties toward the State 139
VIII.--Professional Duties 157
IX.--Duties of Nations among themselves.--International Law 182
X.--Family Duties 190
XI.--Duties toward One's Self.--Duties relative to the Body 223
XII.--Duties relative to External Goods 244
XIII.--Duties relative to the Intellect 260
XIV.--Duties relative to the Will 281
XV.--Religious Morality.--Religious Rights and Duties 299
XVI.--Moral Medicine and Gymnastics 315
Appendix to Chapter VIII 341
ELEMENTS OF MORALS.
CHAPTER I.
PRELIMINARY NOTIONS.
SUMMARY.
=Starting point of morals.=--Notions of common sense.
=Object and divisions of morals.=--Practical morality and theoretical
morality.
=Utility of morals.=--Morals are useful: 1, in protecting us against
the sophisms which combat them; 2, in fixing principles in the mind;
3, in teaching us to reflect upon the motives of our actions; 4, in
preparing us for the difficulties which may arise in practice.
=Short resume of theoretical morality.=--Pleasure and the good.--The
useful and the honest.--Duty.--Moral conscience and moral
sentiment.--Liberty.--Merit and demerit.--Moral responsibility.--Moral
sanction.
All sciences have for their starting-point certain elementary notions
which are furnished them by the common experience of mankind. There would
be no arithmetic if men had not, as their wants increased, begun by
counting and calculating, and if they had not already had some ideas of
numbers, unity, fractions, etc.; neither would there be any geometry if
they had not also had ideas of the round, the square, the straight line.
The same is true of morals. They presuppose a certain number of notions
existing among all men, at least to some degree. Good and evil, duty and
obligation, conscience, liberty and responsibility, virtue and vice,
merit and demerit, sanction, punishment and reward, are notions which the
philosopher has not invented, but which he has borrowed from common sense,
to return them again cleared and deepened.
Let us begin, then, by rapidly enumerating the elementary and common
notions, the analysis and elucidation of which is the object of moral
science, and explain the terms employed to express them.
=1. Starting point of morals: common notions.=--All men distinguish the
_good_ and the _bad_, _good_ actions and _bad_ actions. For instance, to
love one's parents, respect other people's property, to keep one's word,
etc., is right; to harm those who have done us no harm, to deceive and
lie, to be ungrateful towards our benefactors, and unfaithful to our
friends, etc., is wrong.
To do right is _obligatory_ on every one--that is, it _should_ be done;
wrong, on the contrary, _should_ be avoided. _Duty_ is that _law_ by which
we are held to do the right and avoid the wrong. It is also called the
_moral law_. This law, like all laws, _commands_, _forbids_, and
_permits_.
He who acts and is capable of doing the right and the wrong, and who
consequently is held to obey the moral law, is called a moral agent. In
order that an agent may be held to obey a law, he must _know it and
understand it_. In morals, as in legislation, _no one is supposed to be
ignorant of the law_. There is, then, in every man a certain knowledge of
the law, that is to say, a natural discernment of the right and the wrong.
This discernment is what is called conscience, or sometimes the _moral
sense_.
Conscience is an act of the mind, a _judgment_. But it is not only the
mind that is made aware of the right and the wrong: it is the heart. Good
and evil, done either by others or by ourselves, awaken in us emotions,
affections of diverse nature. These emotions or affections are what
collectively constitute the _moral sentiment_.
It does not suffice that a man know and distinguish the good and the evil,
and experience for the one and for the other different sentiments; it is
also necessary, in order to be a _moral agent_, that he be capable of
_choosing_ between them; he cannot be commanded to do what he cannot do,
nor can he be forbidden to do what he cannot help doing. This power of
choosing is called _liberty_, or _free will_.
A free agent--one, namely, who can discern between
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The Daily Telegraph
WAR BOOKS
THE BATTLE OF THE RIVERS
The Daily Telegraph
WAR BOOKS
Cloth 1/- net each
Post free 1/3 each
+HOW THE WAR BEGAN.+ By W. L. COURTNEY, LL.D., and J. M. KENNEDY.
+THE FLEETS AT WAR.+ By ARCHIBALD HURD.
+THE CAMPAIGN OF SEDAN.+ By GEORGE HOOPER.
+THE CAMPAIGN ROUND LIÈGE.+ By J. M. KENNEDY.
+IN THE FIRING LINE.+ Battle Stories told by British Soldiers at the
Front. By A. ST. JOHN ADCOCK.
+GREAT BATTLES OF THE WORLD.+ By STEPHEN CRANE, Author of "The Red Badge
of Courage."
+BRITISH REGIMENTS AT THE FRONT.+ The glorious story of their Battle
Honours.
+THE RED CROSS IN WAR.+ By M. F. BILLINGTON.
+FORTY YEARS AFTER.+ The Story of the Franco-German War. By H. C. BAILEY.
With an introduction by W. L. COURTNEY, LL.D.
+A SCRAP OF PAPER.+ The Inner History of German Diplomacy. By E. J.
DILLON.
+HOW THE NATIONS WAGED WAR.+ A companion volume to "How the War Began,"
telling how the world faced Armageddon and how the British Army answered
the call to arms. By J. M. KENNEDY.
+AIR-CRAFT IN WAR+. By ERIC STUART BRUCE.
+HACKING THROUGH BELGIUM.+ By EDMUND DANE.
+FAMOUS FIGHTS OF INDIAN NATIVE REGIMENTS.+ By REGINALD HODDER.
+THE RETREAT TO PARIS.+ By ROGER INGPEN.
+THE RUSSIAN ADVANCE.+ By MARR MURRAY.
+THE SUBMARINE IN WAR.+ By C. W. DOMVILLE FIFE.
+MOTOR TRANSPORTS IN WAR.+ By HORACE WYATT.
+THE SLAV NATIONS.+
+FROM HELIGOLAND TO KEELING ISLAND.+ By ARCHIBALD HURD.
+WITH THE FRENCH EASTERN ARMY.+ By W. E. GREY.
+WITH THE ROYAL ARMY MEDICAL CORP.+ By E. C. VIVIAN.
+WITH THE SCOTTISH REGIMENTS AT THE FRONT.+ By E. C. VIVIAN.
+THE FIRST CAMPAIGN IN RUSSIAN POLAND.+ By P. C. STANDING.
+THE BATTLE OF THE RIVERS.+ By EDMUND DANE.
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
THE BATTLE OF THE RIVERS
BY
EDMUND DANE
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO
MCMXIV
PREFATORY NOTE
On a scale before unknown in Western Europe, and save for the coincident
operations in the Eastern theatre of war, unexampled in history, the
succession of events named the "Battle of the Rivers" presents
illustrations of strategy and tactics of absorbing interest. Apart even
from the spectacular aspects of this lurid and grandiose drama, full as
it is of strange and daring episodes, the problems it affords in the
science of war must appeal to every intelligent mind.
An endeavour is here made to state these problems in outline. In the
light they throw, events and episodes, which might otherwise appear
confused, will be found to fit into a clear sequence of causes and
consequences. The events and episodes themselves gain in grandeur as
their import and relationship are unfolded.
Since the story of the retreat from Mons has been told in another volume
of this series, it is only in the following pages dealt with so far as
its military bearings elucidate succeeding phases of the campaign.
The Battle of the Rivers
CHAPTER I
THE GERMAN PLANS
"About September 3," wrote Field Marshal Sir John French in his despatch
dated a fortnight later,[1] "the enemy appears to have changed his
plans, and to have determined to stop his advance south direct upon
Paris, for on September 4 air reconnaissances showed that his main
columns were moving in a south-easterly direction generally, east of a
line drawn through Nanteuil and Lizy on the Ourcq."
In that passage the British commander summarises an event which changed
the whole military aspect of the Great War and changed it not only in
the Western, but in the Eastern theatre of hostilities.
What were the German plans and why were they changed?
In part the plans were military, and in part political. These two
aspects, however, are so interwoven that it is necessary, in the
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A GRANDMOTHER'S RECOLLECTIONS.
BY ELLA RODMAN.
1851.
A GRANDMOTHER'S RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER I.
The best bed-chamber, with its hangings of crimson moreen, was opened
and aired--a performance which always caused my eight little brothers
and sisters to place themselves in convenient positions for being
stumbled over, to the great annoyance of industrious damsels, who, armed
with broom and duster, endeavored to render their reign as arbitrary as
it was short. For some time past, the nursery-maids had invariably
silenced refractory children with "Fie, Miss Matilda! Your grandmother
will make you behave yourself--_she_ won't allow such doings, I'll be
bound!" or "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Master Clarence? What will
your grandmother say to that!" The nursery was in a state of uproar on
the day of my venerable relative's arrival; for the children almost
expected to see, in their grandmother, an ogress, both in features and
disposition.
My mother was the eldest of two children, and my grandmother, from the
period of my infancy, had resided in England with her youngest daughter;
and we were now all employed in wondering what sort of a person our
relative might be. Mamma informed us that the old lady was extremely
dignified, and exacted respect and attention from all around; she also
hinted, at the same time, that it would be well for me to lay aside a
little of my self-sufficiency, and accommodate myself to the humors of
my grandmother. This to me!--to _me_, whose temper was so inflammable
that the least inadvertent touch was sufficient
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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/egregiousenglish00mcnerich
THE EGREGIOUS ENGLISH
by
ANGUS McNEILL
[Illustration]
New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons
London: Grant Richards
1903
Copyright, 1902, by
Angus McNeill
Published, January, 1903
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--Apollo 1
II.--The Sportsman 13
III.--The Man of Business 20
IV.--The Journalist 28
V.--The Employed Person 37
VI.--Chiffon 47
VII.--The Soldier 59
VIII.--The Navy 71
IX.--The Churches 79
X.--The Politician 90
XI.--Poets 103
XII.--Fiction 113
XIII.--Suburbanism 124
XIV.--The Man-about-Town 137
XV.--Drink 144
XVI.--Food 153
XVII.--Law and Order 163
XVIII.--Education 171
XIX.--Recreation 183
XX.--Stock Exchange 192
XXI.--The Beloved 199
The Egregious English
CHAPTER I
APOLLO
It has become the Englishman's habit, one might almost say the
Englishman's instinct, to take himself for the head and front of the
universe. The order of creation began, we are told, in protoplasm.
It has achieved at length the Englishman. Herein are the culmination
and ultimate glory of evolutionary processes. Nature, like the
seventh-standard boy in a board school, "can get no higher." She
has made the Englishman, and her work therefore is done. For the
continued progress of the world and all that in it is, the Englishman
will make due provision. He knows exactly what is wanted, and by
himself it shall be supplied. There is little that can be considered
distinguishingly English which does not reflect this point of view. As
an easy-going, entirely confident, imperturbable piece of arrogance,
the Englishman has certainly no mammalian compeer. Even in the blackest
of his troubles he perceives that he is great. "I shall muddle
through," he says. He is expected and understood to muddle through;
and, muddle through or not, he invariably believes he has done it.
Sheer complacency bolsters him up on every hand. At his going forth the
rest of the world is fain to abase itself in the dust. He is the strong
man, the white man of white men. He is the rich, clean sportsman, the
incomparable, the fearless, the intolerable. And by "Englishman" the
world has learned not to mean "Briton." The world has been taught to
discriminate. It has regarded the Britannic brotherhood; and though it
forgets that the Gael and the Celt are Britons, it takes its Englishman
for a Briton, only with a difference. On the other hand, it is keenly
sensible of sundry facts--as that it is the Englishman who rules the
waves and the Englishman upon whose dominions the sun never sets; that
the British flag is the English flag, the British army the English
army, and the British navy the English navy, and that Scotland and
Ireland, with Wales, are English appanages. It would be foolish to
assert that the Englishman has greatly concerned himself in either the
promulgation or the acceptance of these notions. But he holds them
dear, and they are ineradicably planted in his subconsciousness.
One is inclined to think, however, that, while the supremacy and
superiority of the Englishman have been received without traverse in
his own dominions, there are those in outer darkness--on the Continent,
in Ireland, and even in Scotland--who admit no such supremacy and
no such superiority. Nay, there be persons breathing the breath of
life who, so far from looking upon the Englishman with the eyes with
which the early savage must have regarded Captain Cook, look upon him
with
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LIFE, LETTERS
AND
EPICUREAN PHILOSOPHY
OF
NINON
DE L'ENCLOS
The Celebrated Beauty of the Seventeenth Century
ROBINSON--OVERTON
1903
CONTENTS
LIFE OF NINON DE L'ENCLOS
CHAPTER I
Ninon de l'Enclos as a Standard
CHAPTER II
Considered as a Parallel
CHAPTER III
Youth of Ninon de l'Enclos
CHAPTER IV
The Morals of the Period
CHAPTER V
Ninon and Count de Coligny
CHAPTER VI
The "Birds" of the Tournelles
CHAPTER VII
Effect of Her Mother's Death
CHAPTER VIII
Her Increasing Popularity
CHAPTER IX
Ninon's Friendships
CHAPTER X
Some of Ninon's Lovers
CHAPTER XI
Ninon's Lovers (Continued)
CHAPTER XII
The Villarceaux Affair
CHAPTER XIII
The Marquis de Sevigne
CHAPTER XIV
A Family Tragedy
CHAPTER XV
Ninon's Bohemian Environments
CHAPTER XVI
A Remarkable Old Age
LETTERS TO THE MARQUIS DE SEVIGNE
INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS
I--A Hazardous Undertaking
II--Why Love Is Dangerous
III--Why Love Grows Cold
IV--The Spice of Love
V--Love and Temper
VI--Certain Maxims Concerning Love
VII--Women Expect a Quid Pro Quo from Men
VIII--The Necessity for Love and Its Primitive Cause
IX--Love Is a Natural Inclination
X--The Sensation of Love Forms a Large Part of a Woman's Nature
XI--The Distinction Between Love and Friendship
XII--A Man in Love Is an Amusing Spectacle
XIII--Vanity Is a Fertile Soil for Love
XIV--Worth and Merit Are Not Considered in Love
XV--The Hidden Motives of Love
XVI--How to Be Victorious in Love
XVII--Women Understand the Difference Between Real Love and Flirtation
XVIII--When a Woman Is Loved She Need Not Be Told of It
XIX--Why a Lover's Vows Are Untrustworthy
XX--The Half-way House to Love
XXI--The Comedy of Contrariness
XXII--Vanity and Self-Esteem Obstacles to Love
XXIII--Two Irreconcilable Passions in Woman
XXIV--An Abuse of Credulity Is Intolerable
XXV--Why Virtue Is So Often Overcome
XXVI--Love Demands Freedom of Action
XXVII--The Heart Needs Constant Employment
XXVIII--Mere Beauty Is Often of Trifling Importance
XXIX--The Misfortune of Too Sudden an Avowal
XXX--When Resistance is Only a Pretence
XXXI--The Opinion and Advice of Monsieur de la Sabliere
XXXII--The Advantages of a Knowledge of the Heart
XXXIII--A Heart Once Wounded No Longer Plays with Love
XXXIV--Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
XXXV--The Heart Should Be Played Upon Like the Keys of a Piano
XXXVI--Mistaken Impressions Common to All Women
XXXVII--The Allurements of Stage Women
XXXVIII--Varieties of Resistance Are Essential
XXXIX--The True Value of Compliments Among Women
XL--Oratory and Fine Phrases Do Not Breed Love
XLI--Discretion Is Sometimes the Better Part of Valor
XLII--Surface Indications in Women Are Not Always Guides
XLIII--Women Demand Respect
XLIV--Why Love Grows Weak--Marshal de Saint-Evremond's Opinion
XLV--What Favors Men Consider Faults
XLVI--Why Inconstancy Is Not Injustice
XLVII--Cause of Quarrels Among Rivals
XLVIII--Friendship Must Be Firm
XLIX--Constancy Is a Virtue Among Narrow Minded
L--Some Women Are Very Cunning
LI--The Parts Men and Women Play
LII--Love Is a Traitor with Sharp Claws
LIII--Old Age Not a Preventive Against Attack
LIV--A Shrewd But Not an Unusual Scheme
LV--A Happy Ending
* * * * *
CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN LORD SAINT-EVREMOND AND NINON DE L'ENCLOS
I--Lovers and Gamblers Have Something in Common
II--It Is Sweet to Remember Those We Have Loved
III--Wrinkles Are a Mark of Wisdom
IV--Near Hopes Are Worth as Much as Those Far Off
V--On the Death of De Charleval
VI--The Weariness of Monotony
VII--After the Death of La Duchesse de Mazarin
VIII--Love Banishes Old Age
IX--Stomachs Demand More Attention Than Minds
X--Why Does Love Diminish After Marriage?
XI--Few People Resist Age
XII--Age Has Some Consolations
XIII--Some Good Taste Still Exists in France
XIV--Superiority of
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[Illustration: "He tried to shoot once more, into the very face of the
oncoming brute."--FRONTISPIECE. _See Page 245._]
THE HEART OF THUNDER MOUNTAIN
By EDFRID A. BINGHAM
With Frontispiece in Colors
By ANTON OTTO FISHER
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Published by Arrangements with Little, Brown & Company
Copyright, 1916,
By Edfrid A. Bingham.
All rights reserved
Published, March, 1916
Reprinted, March, 1916 (twice)
July, 1916; August, 1916
April, 1917
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I The Forbidden Pasture 1
II The Road to Paradise 15
III Seth Huntington's Opportunity 26
IV The Highest Bidder 37
V "He Shall Tell Me!" 50
VI The Story of the Scar 60
VII The Way of a Maid With a Man 71
VIII The End of Her Stratagem 86
IX Hearts Insurgent 99
X Strictly Confidential 112
XI Avalanche 121
XII Sunnysides 133
XIII Hillyer's Dilemma 144
XIV Coals of Fire 155
XV The Valley of the Shadow 166
XVI Questions and Answers 176
XVII Interlude 186
XVIII The Challenge of the Brute 193
XIX Smythe's Last Budget 202
XX "The Trail Held True" 215
XXI In the Hollow of the Storm 228
XXII The Narrow Passage 238
XXIII The Miracle 252
XXIV Haig's Argument 264
XXV Diana 278
XXVI The Snow 288
XXVII The Voice in the Hurricane 302
XXVIII The Man Who Did Not Forget 316
XXIX Ghosts 330
XXX The Lamp Relighted 344
XXXI Sangre De Cristo 359
THE HEART OF THUNDER MOUNTAIN
CHAPTER I
THE FORBIDDEN PASTURE
She sat hunched up in the middle of the silent pasture, where the
tall, thin grass ran ripening before the breeze in waves the hue of
burnished bronze. Her cow pony grazed greedily a few yards away,
lifting his head now and then to gaze inquiringly at her, and then
returning to his gluttony with a satisfied snort, commendatory of this
long rest. The girl had removed her small sombrero to adjust the
masses of tawny hair that had become disordered in her morning ride;
and the breeze now played with it, and the sun sought out its glints
of gold. She was fair, of a curiously rich complexion with soft golden
tints beneath the skin, as if the rusty gold in her hair was just the
outcropping of what ran in solution in her veins. And there was a
certain air about her that contrasted strangely with the scene upon
which she now gazed intently, with her head bent forward, and her
hands clasped round her upthrust knees.
It was a little valley she had come upon by chance, snugly tucked away
among the hills. Below the bronze- <DW72> there were lush
meadows of a brilliant green, and a shallow, swift stream that
flashed over black bowlders and white sand; beyond the meadows lay
more shining pastures rising to pale-green aspen groves and then to
dark-green pines; and above all these the foothills climbed swiftly to
the mountains, and the mountains more swiftly to the sky. There were
faint blue mists in the foothills, fainter violet shadows on the
distant fields, an icy whiteness on the peaks; and in the sky no more
than two small puffs of cloud like eiderdown adrift in the depths of
blue. What at first had seemed an utter silence laid upon that summer
landscape had now become, as she looked and listened, a silence full
of sound; of that indefinable humming undertone of nature maturing in
the sun; of insects busy at their harvest; of birds in the distance
calling; of grasses rustling in the breeze; of pines on the long ridge
droning like an organ in the Recessional.
Yes, it was very beautiful, she thought. And sweet. And peaceful. She
had come a long way--halfway across the great continent--to find that
peace. But why should there be a touch of sadness in all that beauty?
And why should there be need to search for her handkerchief to press
against her eyes? For the first time since she had come to Paradise
Park she felt a little lonely, a little doubtful about the wisdom of
her brave revolt.
She sank back at last, and lay curled up in the grass with her head
pillowed on one bent arm. There, to her half-closed eyes, the grass
seemed like a fairy forest, soon peopled by her fancy, the fancy of a
girl who still retained the quick imagination of a child. An Indian
paintbrush flamed at her with barbaric passion; nodding harebells
tinkled purple melodies; and a Mariposa lily with a violet eye seemed
like a knight in white armor, bowing himself into her outstretched
hand. Her eyelids drooped more and more. The music of the pines and
the murmur of the pasture blended in a faint and fading lullaby....
* * * * *
Tuesday's shrill neigh awakened her. She sat up shivering, for the
warm air was underlaid with cold; and quivering, for the alarm had
fallen pat upon the climax of her dream. She rubbed her eyes, a little
blinded by the sunlight, and saw that Tuesday stood with head high and
nostrils distended, gazing past her toward the upper end of the
pasture. She was not surprised, being yet under the spell of her
dream-fairyland, to see a horseman galloping straight toward her. If
not the white knight, then--For some seconds she stared, awakening
slowly; and smiled at length at her childish fancy. It was only a
cowboy, doubtless, riding upon his own prosaic business. And yet--She
became gradually aware of something unusual, something disquieting in
the manner of the man's approach. The horse was leaping under the
spurs; the rider sat upright and alert in the saddle; and suddenly, as
she watched him, the man's hand went to his hip, and there was a gleam
of metal in the sun.
She was not afraid. Seth Huntington had assured her there was nothing
to be feared in Paradise Park. But for all that, it was not without
uneasiness that she hastily arranged the meager folds of her divided
skirt, and passed her hands quickly over the still disordered masses
of her hair. And then he was fairly upon her, reining up with a jerk
that brought the sweating pony back upon its haunches.
There was an angry glitter in the man's dark eyes, his face was black
with passion, and the bright object she had seen flashing in his hand
was the twin brother of Huntington's six-shooter. He was roughly, even
meanly, dressed. His coarse blue flannel shirt was unbuttoned at the
throat; his soiled brown corduroy trousers were thrust unevenly into
dusty and wrinkled boot tops; his old, gray hat was slouched over one
side of his forehead, shading his eyes. But the face beneath that
faded and disreputable hat, as Marion saw with a slight thrill of
curiosity, belonged to no ranch hand or cow-puncher. Whoever he might
be, and whatever he might be doing there scowling at her, she felt at
once that he was as foreign as herself to that neighborhood. But there
was no time at that moment to analyze her feeling, to formulate her
thought. And her next impression, following very swiftly, was one of
vague antagonism. She felt that she was going to hate him.
"What new trick is this?" he demanded angrily, when he had looked from
the girl to her pony, and at her again, with unconcealed suspicion.
For a moment she was undecided whether to answer him sharply or to
rebuke his incivility with silence.
"I don't know!" she replied at last, by way of compromise between her
two impulses, with a half-playful emphasis on the "I," accompanied by
a very solemn, shaking of the head and a very innocent widening of the
eyes.
There was a pause while he searched her face with a distrustful
scrutiny.
"You're not just the person I was looking for," he said finally, with
a touch of irony.
"How fortunate!" she replied, in a tone that was like a mocking echo
of his own.
Her eyes met his unflinchingly, a little impudently, telling him
nothing; then they slowly fell, and rested on the revolver in his
hand. With a shrug he thrust the weapon into its holster.
"Thank you!" she said sweetly. "You really won't need it."
He jerked his head impatiently.
"How did you get in here?" he demanded, quite as roughly as before.
There was no reason in the world why she should not have answered him
simply and directly; but she did not. She was exasperated, not so much
by his words as by his manner, and not so much by his manner even as
by something provocative in the man himself. He was rude, but it was
not his rudeness that most annoyed her. She scarcely knew what it
was,--perhaps a certain indifference, a certain cold contempt that she
detected underlying all his anger, a certain icy and impenetrable
reserve that, for all his hot words, and for all his lowering looks,
she resented most as being in some way personal to her. And instantly
the minx in her rose up for mischief.
"By aeroplane, of course!" she said tartly.
It was a silly speech, and she regretted it almost before it had left
her lips.
A faint flush came into the enemy's face.
"Spoken like a woman!" he retorted. "Always tragic over little things
and flippant over big ones."
That brought the color up into her face. But she was not subdued; for
the cat in woman also has nine lives--at least.
"There's my horse," she said, with a toss of her head. "You saw him."
"True! But cow ponies don't easily jump four-wire fences."
"Why should they when the fences are down?"
"Good! We arrive by the devious ways that women love. Perhaps you'll
give me the answer now that you should have given in the first place.
_How did you get in here?_"
She bit her lip, reflected a moment, and attempted a flank movement.
"My name is Marion Gaylord."
"I knew that."
"But you have never seen me before!"
"No. But that's one of Huntington's horses, and Miss Gaylord is a
guest at his house. You see, I am more courteous than you after all. I
answer your questions."
"Perhaps I'll answer yours when I know what right you have to ask
them."
A light began to dawn upon him.
"Do you mean--you don't know where you are?"
"No."
He gave her a long, searching look before he spoke again.
"My name is Philip Haig," he said, leaning forward with a curious
smile.
The result was all that he could have wished for. Until that moment
she had remained seated, firm in her determination not to be
disturbed by him. But now she rose slowly to her feet, her face
reddening, her lips parted, a frightened look in her eyes. The shoe
was on the other foot, with a vengeance.
He saw all this, and without compunction, seized his advantage.
With a grim smile he threw the reins over the pony's head, swung
himself out of the saddle, and stepped toward her. As he came on he
removed his dilapidated hat with a gesture that made her forget it
was dilapidated,--a mocking, insolent gesture though it was. In
spite of her embarrassment she let none of his features escape her
quickening interest. She saw that he was tall, erect, alert; handsome
in some strange and half-repellent way, with his pale dark face,
rather long in contour, and with his black, curly hair matted on
the broad forehead. But she almost recoiled when, on his drawing
nearer, she saw for the first time--it had been hidden by the shadow
of his slouched hat--an ugly scar that ran from the outer corner of
his left eye down to the jawbone below the ear. It gave to one
side of his face a singularly sinister expression that vanished when
he turned and disclosed a profile that was not without nobility
and charm.
Then suddenly her mystification was complete. Their eyes met, not as
before, but very near, so close had he come to her, still smiling. And
instantly, instinctively, she lowered hers; for she felt as if she had
been caught peering through a window at something she had no right to
see. Yet the next instant she was looking again, half-guiltily, but
irresistibly drawn. The eyes were of a curious color,--smoky black, or
dark gray-blue, or somber purple,--liquid and deep like a woman's,
but with a steady, dull glow in their depths that was unlike anything
she had ever seen or imagined. What was it that burned there?
Suffering? Hunger? Evil? Sorrow? Shame? It gave her something to think
about for many a day and night. Meanwhile--
"I see you have heard of me," he said mockingly.
She had no reply. She was realizing slowly that she had trespassed,
that she had perhaps seriously compromised her cousin, and, most
humiliating of all, that she had assumed quite the wrong attitude
toward the man.
"You really didn't know you were on my land?" he demanded, with a
little less offensiveness in his tone.
"No," she answered weakly.
"And Huntington didn't send you here?"
"No."
"I believe you, of course. But it's rather queer. How did you
happen--if you don't mind--"
She did not mind in the least--was eager, indeed, to explain her
presence there.
"I'm just learning to ride," she began impulsively.
"This was my first venture off the valley road, and I--"
"And you came straight to me!" he exclaimed, chuckling.
At that a strange thing happened. He had meant only that she, the
guest and cousin of Seth Huntington, his bitter foe, had blundered
straight into the camp of the enemy; and that was a rare joke on
Huntington. But she was a girl; her little adventure was already rosy
with romance; and the effect of his careless speech was as if he had
looked into her heart, and read aloud for her something she had not
known was there. To his surprise and wonder the girl's fair face
turned red to the roots of her tawny hair, and a look of helpless
confusion came into the clear, blue eyes that until now, for all her
embarrassment, had frankly met his own. She looked suddenly away from
him.
"You make me ashamed," she said at length, stealing a look at him.
"If you know anything about my difficulty with Huntington," he began,
"you'll understand that--"
"I do. I do understand!" she interrupted eagerly. "I don't know much
about it--the trouble. They haven't told me. I've only overheard some
talk--and I didn't ask. I rode down the valley this morning trying to
do it like a cowboy. And there was a branch road--and then the break
in the fence--and before I knew it I'd fallen asleep. That's
all--except--" She shot a half-mischievous glance at him "--you
spoiled a very beautiful dream."
But this was all lost upon him. His face was clouding again.
"Where is it--the break in the fence?"
Chagrined at the failure of her bit of coquetry, she merely pointed in
the direction whence she had come.
"Thank you!" he said. "At last!"
With that he went swiftly to his pony, mounted, and started to ride
away. But suddenly he reined up again, whirled his horse savagely
around, and faced Marion with the sunlight full upon the scarred side
of his face, now ugly with menace.
"If that fence has been cut," he said, in a hard and level tone, "it's
been cut by Huntington or his men. You tell him for me, please--and
you'll be doing _him_ a favor not to forget it--tell him that he's a
fool to anger me. I've been very patient in this business, but I don't
claim patience as one of my virtues. Do you hear? Tell him he's a fool
to anger me!"
She watched him gallop to the gap in the barb-wire fence; she watched
him dismount to examine the severed wires; she watched him leap on his
horse again, and ride furiously down the road until he was lost to
view below the dip in the <DW72> toward the valley. And still for some
minutes she stood staring at the place where he had disappeared. Then,
left alone with her pent-up emotions, she no longer resisted them.
Tears of vexation started in her eyes; chagrin, resentment, anger
swept over her in turn. She dug the heel of one small boot into the
unoffending soil--his soil--and thrust her clenched hands down at her
side.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried, over and over again, striding forward and
back across some yards of pasture, trampling lilies and harebells
under her heedless feet, turning her flaming face at intervals toward
the spot in the smiling landscape that had last held the figure of
Philip Haig.
The shame of it! She had never--never--never been treated so
outrageously. It was unendurable--and she had endured it
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I SPY
BY NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN
1916
_To MRS. SARAH VAIL GOULD my grandmother to whose affection belongs many
joyous days of childhood at "Oaklands" this book is offered as a loving
tribute to her memory._
CONTENTS
I. AT VICTORIA STATION
II. OUT OF THE VOID
III. POWERS THAT PREY
IV. "SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?"
V. AN EVENTFUL EVENING
VI. AT THE CAPITOL
VII. PHANTOM WIRES
VIII. KAISER BLUMEN
IX. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY
X. SISTERS IN UNITY
XI. A MAN IN A HURRY
XII. A SINISTER DISCOVERY
XIII. HIDE AND SEEK
XIV. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY
XV. THE GAME, "I SPY"
XVI. AT THE MORGUE
XVII. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
XVIII. A PROPOSAL
XIX. THE YELLOW STREAK
XX. THE AWAKENING
XXI. THE FINGER PRINT
XXII. "TRENTON HURRY"
XXIII. IN FULL CRY
XXIV. RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE
XXV. LOVE PARAMOUNT
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"He saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card"
"As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into her father's arms"
"'A flash, the rifle's recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just
where he was'"
"Whitney paused to snatch up a magnifying glass and by its aid examined
the finger prints"
CHAPTER I
AT VICTORIA STATION
The allied forces, English and French, had been bent backward day by day,
until it seemed as if Paris was fairly within the Germans' grasp. Bent
indeed, but never broken, and with the turning of the tide the Allied
line had rushed forward, and France breathed again.
Two men, seated in a room of the United Service Club in London one gloomy
afternoon in November, 1914, talked over the situation in tones too low
to reach other ears. The older man, Sir Percival Hargraves, had been
bemoaning the fact that England seemed honeycombed by the German Secret
Service, and his nephew, John Hargraves, an officer in uniform, was
attempting to reassure him. It was a farewell meeting, for the young
officer was returning to the front.
"Much good will all this espionage do the Germans," said the young man.
"We are easily holding our own, and with the spring will probably come
our opportunity." He clicked his teeth together. "What price then all
these suspected plots and futile intrigues?"
"Don't be so damned cocksure," rapped out his uncle, his exasperation
showing in heightened color and snapping eyes. "It's that same
cocksureness which has almost brought the British Empire to the very
brink of dissolution."
His nephew smiled tolerantly, and shifted his thickset figure to a more
comfortable position.
"Now, now," he cautioned. "Remember what old Sawbones told you yesterday
about not exciting yourself. Said you weren't to read or talk about this
bally old war. Leave the worrying to Kitchener; he'll see we chaps do
our part."
"If everything were left to Kitchener!" Sir Percival thumped the arm of
his chair. "Some of us would sleep easier in our beds. And I know you
chaps at the front will do your part. Would to God I could be with you!"
glancing at his shrunken and useless left leg. "If I could only take a
pot at the beggars!"
"According to your belief the firing line will shortly be on English
soil," chaffed his nephew, avoiding looking at his companion. He knew the
tragic circumstances surrounding his uncle's maimed condition, and wished
to avoid anything touching upon sentiment.
"If the plans to undermine England's home government are perfected and
carried out, every man, woman and child will have to band together to
repel invasion." Sir Percival lowered his voice. "If there are any
able-bodied men left here."
"Don't be so pessimistic. Kitchener has built up a great army, and is
only waiting the proper moment to launch it in the field."
"The best of England has volunteered," agreed Sir Percival, "but what
about the slackers? What about the coal strikes--the trouble in our
munition factories? All are chargeable to the Kaiser's war machine which
overlooks nothing in its complete preparedness. Preparedness--England
doesn't yet know the meaning of the word."
"It's time for me to leave," said the young officer, consulting his
watch. "Take my word for it, Uncle, we're not going to the demnition
bowwows--count on England's bulldog grit. God help Germany when the
Allies get into that country!"
"When--ah, when?" echoed Sir Percival. "I hope that I live to see the
day. Tell me, boy," his voice softening, "how is it with you and Molly?"
His nephew reddened under his tan. "Molly doesn't care for a chap like
me," he muttered.
"Did she tell you so?"
"Well, no. You see, Uncle, it--eh--doesn't seem the thing to suggest
that a charming girl like Molly tie herself to a fellow who may get his
at any time."
"Piffle!" Sir Percival's shaggy eyebrows met in a frown. "Sentimental
nonsense! You and Molly were great chums a year ago. You told me yourself
that you hoped to marry her; I even spoke to her mother about the
suitability of the match."
"You had no right to," blazed his nephew. "It was damned impertinent
interference."
"You have not always thought so," retorted Sir Percival bitterly. "What
had that most impertinent American girl you met in Germany to do with
your change of front toward Molly?"
"I must insist that you speak more respectfully of Kathleen." John
Hargraves' expression altered. "If you must know, I asked Kathleen to
marry me and--she refused."
"I said she was impertinent. All Americans are; they don't know any
better," fumed his uncle. "Forget her, John; think of Molly. I tell you
the child loves you. Don't wreck her happiness for the sake of a
fleeting fancy."
"Fleeting fancy?" John Hargraves shook his head sorrowfully. "When
Kathleen refused me I was hard hit; so hit I can't marry any other girl.
Don't let's talk of it." He smiled wistfully as he held out his hand.
"Time's up, Uncle; the train leaves in an hour, and I must get my kit.
Good-by, sir. Wish me luck." And before the older man could stop him he
was retreating down the hall.
Sir Percival stared vacantly about the room. "The last of his race," he
muttered. "God help England! The toll is heavy."
In spite of his haste John Hargraves was late in reaching Victoria
Station, and had barely time to take his place before the train pulled
slowly out. As he looked down the long trainshed, he encountered the
fixed stare of a tall, well-groomed man standing near one of the pillars.
Hargraves looked, and looked again; then his hand flew up, and leaning
far out of his compartment he shouted to a porter. But his message was
lost in
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THE LOST HEIR
BY G. A. HENTY
AUTHOR OF "STURDY AND STRONG," "RUJUB, THE JUGGLER," "BY ENGLAND'S AID,"
ETC., ETC.
THE MERSHON COMPANY
RAHWAY, N. J.
NEW YORK
CONTENTS.
I. A BRAVE ACTION 1
II. IN THE SOUTH SEAS 14
III. A DEAF GIRL 27
IV. THE GYPSY 40
V. A GAMBLING DEN 52
VI. JOHN SIMCOE 65
VII. JOHN SIMCOE'S FRIEND 77
VIII. GENERAL MATHIESON'S SEIZURE 90
IX. A STRANGE ILLNESS 102
X. TWO HEAVY BLOWS 112
XI. A STARTLING WILL 124
XII. DR. LEEDS SPEAKS 137
XIII. NETTA VISITS STOWMARKET 150
XIV. AN ADVERTISEMENT 164
XV. VERY BAD NEWS 176
XVI. A FRESH CLEW 193
XVII. NETTA ACTS INDEPENDENTLY 206
XVIII. DOWN IN THE MARSHES 220
XIX. A PARTIAL SUCCESS 233
XX. A DINNER PARTY 247
XXI. A BOX AT THE OPERA 262
XXII. NEARING THE GOAL 274
XXIII. WALTER
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[Illustration: Portrait signed of Cyrus W. Field.]
CYRUS W. FIELD
HIS LIFE AND WORK
[1819-1892]
EDITED BY
ISABELLA FIELD JUDSON
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration: colophon]
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1896
Copyright, 1896, by ISABELLA FIELD JUDSON.
_All rights reserved._
[Illustration]
TO
MY FATHER'S FAMILY AND FRIENDS
THESE PAGES
Are Dedicated
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. PARENTAGE AND EARLY HOME LIFE (1819-1835) 1
II. EARLY LIFE IN NEW YORK (1835-1840) 14
III. MARRIAGE AND BUSINESS LIFE (1840-1853) 27
IV. OUT OF DEBT--A VOYAGE TO SOUTH AMERICA
(1853) 42
V. THE FIRST CABLE (1853-1857) 59
VI. THE FIRST CABLE (CONTINUED) (1857) 74
VII. A FLEETING TRIUMPH (1858) 86
VIII. FAILURE ON ALL SIDES (1858-1861) 122
IX. THE CIVIL WAR (1861-1862) 131
X. CAPITAL RAISED FOR THE MAKING OF A NEW
CABLE--STEAMSHIP "GREAT EASTERN"
SECURED (1863-1864) 154
XI. THE FAILURE OF 1865 182
XII. THE CABLE LAID--CABLE OF 1865 GRAPPLED
FOR AND RECOVERED--PAYMENT OF DEBTS
(1866) 199
XIII. THE RECONSTRUCTION PERIOD (1867-1870) 232
XIV. INTERNATIONAL POLITICS--RAPID TRANSIT
(1870-1880) 267
XV. THE PACIFIC CABLE--THE GOLDEN WEDDING
(1880-1891) 303
XVI. LAST DAYS AND DEATH--IN MEMORIAM (1891-1892) 321
ILLUSTRATIONS
CYRUS W. FIELD _Frontispiece_
SUBMIT DICKINSON FIELD _Facing page_ 2
DAVID DUDLEY FIELD " 6
THE PARSONAGE, STOCKBRIDGE, MASS. " 10
VALENTIA: LANDING THE SHORE-END OF
THE CABLE, 1857 " 94
CYRUS W. FIELD, 1860 " 124
LAST TWO PAGES OF LETTER FROM MR.
GLADSTONE, DATED NOVEMBER 17, 1862 " 148
ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH CABLE CHART, 1865 " 188
THE NIGHT-WATCH " 194
ARDSLEY, IRVINGTON-ON-HUDSON " 264
CERTIFICATE OF DISCHARGE FROM THE MERCANTILE
MARINE SERVICE " 296
THE ANDRE MONUMENT, TAPPAN, NEW YORK " 302
CYRUS W. FIELD
HIS LIFE AND WORK
CHAPTER I
PARENTAGE AND EARLY HOME LIFE
(1819-1835)
CYRUS WEST FIELD, the eighth child and seventh son of David Dudley
Field, was born in Stockbridge, Mass., November 30, 1819. He took his
double name from Cyrus Williams, President of the Housatonic Bank (in
Stockbridge), and from Dr. West, for sixty years his father's
predecessor in the pastorate of the old Church of Stockbridge. He was
the sixth in descent from Zachariah Field, the founder of the family in
this country, who was the grandson of John Field the astronomer.
Zachariah was born in the old home in Ardsley, Yorkshire, England. He
came over in 1630 or 1632, seemingly from Hadley, Suffolk, and settled
first in Dorchester, Mass., afterwards making his way through the
wilderness to Hartford, Conn. Then followed in the direct line his
oldest son Zachariah Junior, Ebenezer, David, and Captain Timothy, who
was born in the north part of Madison, Conn., in 1744. He served in the
Continental Army under Washington, and was in the battle of White
Plains.
David Dudley Field, Captain Timothy's youngest son, was born May 20,
1781. In 1802 he graduated from Yale, the next year was ordained a
minister of the Congregational Church, and a month later, October 31,
1803, was married to Submit Dickinson, daughter of Captain Noah
Dickinson, of Somers, Conn., who first served under Putnam in the French
War and afterwards in the War of the Revolution. Submit Dickinson was
called "The Somers Beauty."
[Illustration: SUBMIT DICKINSON FIELD
Born October 1, 1782
(From a Crayon by Lawrence)]
David Dudley Field was first settled in Haddam, Conn., and remained as
pastor of the Congregational Church for fourteen years. Seven of his
children were born while he lived there: David Dudley was the eldest;
then followed Emilia Ann, Timothy Beals, Matthew Dickinson, Jonathan
Edwards, Stephen Johnson 1st (who died when he was six months old), and
Stephen Johnson 2d. Cyrus West, Henry Martyn, and Mary Elizabeth were
the three children born in Stockbridge, Mass. Among the reminiscences of
his sojourn in Haddam is that it fell to him to preach the execution
sermon of Peter Long. The grim Puritanical custom still survived
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DEAD SOULS
By Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol
Translated by D. J. Hogarth
Introduction By John Cournos
Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol, born at Sorochintsky, Russia, on 31st
March 1809. Obtained government post at St. Petersburg and later an
appointment at the university. Lived in Rome from 1836 to 1848. Died on
21st February 1852.
PREPARER'S NOTE
The book this was typed from contains a complete Part I, and a partial
Part II, as it seems only part of Part II survived the adventures
described in the introduction. Where the text notes that pages are
missing from the "original", this refers to the Russian original, not
the translation.
All the foreign words were italicised in the original, a style not
preserved here. Accents and diphthongs have also been left out.
INTRODUCTION
Dead Souls, first published in 1842, is the great prose classic of
Russia. That amazing institution, "the Russian novel," not only began
its career with this unfinished masterpiece by Nikolai Vasil'evich
Gogol, but practically all the Russian masterpieces that have come since
have grown out of it, like the limbs of a single tree. Dostoieffsky
goes so far as to bestow this tribute upon an earlier work by the same
author, a short story entitled The Cloak; this idea has been wittily
expressed by another compatriot, who says: "We have all issued out of
Gogol's Cloak."
Dead Souls, which bears the word "Poem" upon the title page of the
original, has been generally compared to Don Quixote and to the Pickwick
Papers, while E. M. Vogue places its author somewhere between Cervantes
and Le Sage. However considerable the influences of Cervantes and
Dickens may have been--the first in the matter of structure, the other
in background,
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THE MEMOIRS OF FRANÇOIS RENÉ
VICOMTE DE CHATEAUBRIAND
SOMETIME AMBASSADOR TO ENGLAND
BEING A TRANSLATION BY ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS
OF THE MÉMOIRES D'OUTRE-TOMBE WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM CONTEMPORARY SOURCES. In 6 Volumes
NEW YORK: PUBLISHED BY G. P PUTNAM'S
SONS AND IN LONDON BY FREEMANTLE
AND COMPANY
MDCCCCII
VOL. I
"NOTRE SANG A TEINT
LA BANNIÈRE DE FRANCE"
[Illustration: Le Vicomte de Chateaubriand]
CONTENTS
The Translator's Note
The Author's Preface
The Author's Preface to the First Edition
PART THE FIRST
1768-1800
BOOK I
Birth of my brothers and sisters--My own birth--Plancoët--I
am vowed--Combourg--My father's scheme of education for
me--Villeneuve--Lucile--Mesdemoiselles Couppart--I am a bad pupil--The
life led by my maternal grandmother and her sister at Plancoët--My
uncle, the Comte de Bedée, at Monchoix--I am relieved from my nurse's
vow--Holidays--Saint-Malo--Gesril--Hervine Magon--Fight with two ship's
lads
BOOK II
A note from M. Pasquier--Dieppe--Change in my education--Spring in
Brittany--An historic forest--Pelagian fields--The moon setting over
the sea--Departure for Combourg--Description of the castle--Dol
College--Mathematics and languages--An instance of memory--Holidays
at Combourg--Life at a country-seat--Feudal customs--The inhabitants
of Combourg--Second holidays at Combourg--The Conti Regiment--Camp
at Saint-Malo--An abbey--A provincial theatre--Marriage of my two
eldest sisters--Return to college--A revolution begins to take place
in my ideas--Adventure of the magpie--Third holidays at Combourg--The
quack--Return to college--Invasion of France--Games--The Abbé de
Chateaubriand--My First Communion--I leave Dol College--A mission at
Combourg--Rennes College--I meet Gesril--Moreau-Limoëlan--Marriage
of my third sister--I am sent to Brest for my naval examination--The
harbour of Brest--I once more meet Gesril--Lapeyrouse--I return to
Combourg
BOOK III
At Montboissier--Reminiscences of Combourg--Dinan College--Broussais--I
return home--Life at Combourg--Our days and evenings--My
donjon--Change from childhood to manhood--Lucile--Last lines written
at the Vallée-aux-Loups--Revelations concerning the mystery of my
life--A phantom of love--Two years of delirium--Occupations and
illusions--My autumn joys--Incantation--Temptation--Illness--I
fear and decline to enter the ecclesiastical state--A moment in my
native town--Recollection of Villeneuve and the tribulations of my
childhood--I am called back to Combourg--Last interview with my
father--I enter the service--I bid farewell to Combourg
BOOK IV
Berlin--Potsdam--Frederic the Great--My brother--My cousin
Moreau--My sister, the Comtesse de Farcy--Julie a worldly
woman--Dinner--Pommereul--Madame de Chastenay--Cambrai--The Navarre
Regiment--La Martinière--Death of my father--My regrets--Would my
father have appreciated me?--I return to Brittany--I stay with my
eldest sister--My brother sends for me to Paris--First inspiration of
the muse--My lonely life in Paris--I am presented at Versailles--I hunt
with the King--Adventure with my mare _Heureuse_
BOOK V
Stay in Brittany--In garrison at Dieppe--I return to Paris with Lucile
and Julie--Delisle de Sales--Men of letters--Portraits--The Rosanbo
family--M. de Malesherbes--His predilection for Lucile--Appearance
and change of my sylph--Early political disturbances in Brittany--A
glance at the history of the monarchy--Constitution of the States
of Brittany--The holding of the States--The King's revenue in
Brittany--Private revenue of the province--Hearth-money--I am
present for the first time at a political meeting--A scene--My
mother moves to Saint-Malo--I receive the tonsure--The country
round Saint-Malo--The ghost--The sick man--The States of Brittany
in 1789--Riots--Saint-Riveul, my schoolfellow, is killed--The year
1789--Journey from Brittany to Paris--Movement on the road--Appearance
of Paris--Dismissal of M. Necker--Versailles--Delight of the Royal
Family--General insurrection--Capture of the Bastille--Effect of
the capture of the Bastille on the Court--The heads of Foullon
and Bertier--Recall of M. Necker--Sitting of the 4th of August
1789--The day's work of the 5th of October--The King is taken to
Paris--The Constituent Assembly--Mirabeau--Sittings of the National
Assembly--Robespierre--Society-Aspect of Paris--What I did amidst all
this turmoil--My solitary days--Mademoiselle Monet--I draw up with
M. de Malesherbes the plan of my journey in America--Bonaparte and
I both unknown subalterns--The Marquis de La Rouërie--I embark at
Saint-Malo--Last thoughts on leaving my native land
BOOK VI
In London as Ambassador--I cross the ocean--François
Tulloch--Christopher Columbus--Camoëns--The Azores--The isle of
Graciosa--Sports on board ship--The isle of Saint-Pierre--The shores of
Virginia--Sunset--Danger and escape--I land in America--Baltimore--The
passengers separate--Tulloch--Philadelphia--General
Washington--Comparison of Washington and Bonaparte--Journey from
Philadelphia to New York and Boston--Mackenzie--The Hudson River--Song
of the lady passenger--Mr. Swift--I set out for the Falls of Niagara
with a Dutch guide--M. Violet--My savage outfit--Hunting--Wolverine
and Canadian Fox--Musk-rat--Fishing dogs--Insects--Montcalm and
Wolfe--Encampment on the shore of the Onondaga Lake--Arabs--The Indian
woman and her cow--An Iroquois--The Onondaga chief--Velly and the
Franks--Ceremonies of hospitality--The ancient Greeks--Journey from
the Onondaga Lake to the Genesee River--Clearings--Hospitality--My
bed--The enchanted rattle-snake--Niagara Falls--The rattle-snake--I
fall to the edge of the abyss--Twelve days in a hut--Change of
manners among the savages--Birth and death--Montaigne-Song of the
adder--The little Indian girl, the original of Mila--Incidents--Old
Canada--True civilisation spread by religion--False civilisation
introduced by commerce--Traders--Agents--Hunts--Half-breeds or
Burnt-woods--Wars of the companies--The Indian languages dying
out--The old French possessions in America--Regrets--A note from Lord
François Conyngham--The Canadian lakes--A fleet of Indian canoes--The
American rivers--Legends--Muscogulges and Siminoles--Our camp--Two
Floridan beauties--Ruins on the Ohio--What the Muscogulge damsels
were--Arrest of the King at Varennes--I interrupt my journey to go back
to Europe--Dangers for the United States--Return to Europe--Shipwreck
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOL. I
The Vicomte de Chateaubriand
Chateaubriand's Birthplace
Combourg Castle
Louis XVI
Malesherbes
Marie Antoinette
Mirabeau
Washington
THE TRANSLATOR'S NOTE
Many years ago, M. Pierre Louÿs, who had not then achieved his
astonishing successes, and I sat talking literature in a Paris café.
The future author of _Aphrodite_ had praise for none save the moderns,
of whom he has now become a recognized type and leader. I turned to him
suddenly and asked:
"Is there any nineteenth-century French writer at all whom you others
read nowadays and approve of?"
"Yes," said Louÿs, "Chateaubriand."
"How do you mean?" said I. "The novels? _Atala?_ The essays?"
"Ah no," he answered: "but the _Mémoires d'outre-tombe_, yes.
That--that is monumental; that will live for
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NEVERMORE
BY ROLF BOLDREWOOD
AUTHOR OF 'ROBBERY UNDER ARMS,' 'THE SQUATTER'S DREAM,' 'THE MINER'S
RIGHT,' ETC.
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1892
_All rights reserved_
_First Edition 1892
Second Edition July and December 1892_
CHAPTER I
'Then, by Heaven! I'll leave the country. I won't stop here to be
bullied for doing what scores of other fellows have done and nothing
thought about it. It's unjust, it's intolerable--'
Thus spoke impetuous Youth.
'I should say something would depend upon the family tradition of the
"other fellows" to whom you refer. In ours gambling debts and shady
transactions with turf-robbers happen to be forbidden luxuries.'
Thus spoke philosophic Age, calm, cynical, unsparing.
No power of divination was needed to decide that the speakers were
father and son; no prophet to discover, on one side, sullen defiance
following a course of reckless folly; on the other, wounded family pride
and long-nursed consuming wrath.
As the rebellious son stood up and faced his sire, it was curious to
mark the similarity of the inherited lineaments brought out more clearly
in his moments of rage and defiance.
Both men were strong and sinewy, dark in complexion, and bearing the
ineffaceable impress of gentle nurture, leisure, and assured position.
The younger man was the taller, and of a frame which, when fully
developed, promised unusual strength and activity. More often than the
converse, does it obtain that the son, in outward appearance or mental
constitution, reproduces his mother's attributes
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Wilson's
Tales of the Borders
AND OF SCOTLAND.
HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, & IMAGINATIVE.
WITH A GLOSSARY.
REVISED BY
ALEXANDER LEIGHTON,
ONE OF THE ORIGINAL EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS.
VOL. XI.
LONDON:
WALTER SCOTT, 14 PATERNOSTER SQUARE,
AND NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE.
1884.
CONTENTS.
Page
THE DOMINIE'S CLASS (_John Mackay Wilson_) 1
THE CONTRAST OF WIVES (_Alexander Leighton_) 33
THE PROFESSOR'S TALES (_Professor Thomas Gillespie_)
THE SOCIAL MAN 65
THE TWO COMRADES (_Alexander Campbell_) 90
THE SURTOUT (_Alexander Campbell_) 106
THE SURGEON'S TALES
THE SUICIDE (_Alexander Leighton_) 121
THE GHOST OF HOWDYCRAIGS (_Alexander Bethune_) 153
THE GHOST OF GAIRYBURN (_Alexander Bethune_) 185
THE SMUGGLER (_John Mackay Wilson_) 217
THE SCHOOLFELLOWS (_Oliver Richardson_) 250
THE RED HALL; OR,
BERWICK IN 1296 (_John Mackay Wilson_) 281
WILSON'S
TALES OF THE BORDERS,
AND OF SCOTLAND.
THE DOMINIE'S CLASS.[A]
"Their ends as various as the roads they take
In journeying through life."
There is no class of men to whom the memory turns with more
complacency, or more frequently, than to those who "taught the young
idea how to shoot." There may be a few tyrants of the birch, who never
inspired a feeling save fear or hatred; yet their number is but few,
and I would say that the schoolmaster _is abroad_ in more senses than
that in which it is popularly applied. He is abroad in the memory and
in the affections of his pupils; and his remembrance is cherished
wheresoever they may be. For my own part, I never met with a teacher
whom I did not love when a boy, and reverence when a man; from him
before whom I used to stand and endeavour to read my task in his eyes,
as he held the book before his face, and the page was reflected in his
spectacles--and from his spectacles I spelled my _qu_--to him who, as
an elder friend, bestowed on me my last lesson. When a man has been
absent from the place of his nativity for years, and when he returns
and grasps the hands of his surviving kindred, one of his first
questions to them (after family questions are settled) is--"Is Mr ----,
my old schoolmaster, yet alive?" And if the answer be in the
affirmative, one of the first on whom he calls is the dominie of his
boyhood; and he enters the well-remembered school--and his first
glance is to the seat he last occupied--as an urchin opens the door
and admits him, as he gently taps at it, and cries to the master (who
is engaged with a class), when the stranger enters--
"Sir, here's one wants you."
Then steps forward the man of letters, looking anxiously--gazing as
though he had a right to gaze in the stranger's face; and, throwing
out his head, and particularly his chin, while he utters the
hesitating interrogative--"Sir?" And the stranger replies--"You don't
know me, I suppose? I am such-an-one, who was at your school at such a
time." The instiller of knowledge starts--
"What!" cries he, shifting his spectacles, "you Johnnie (Thomas, or
Peter, as the case may be) So-and-so?--it's not possible! O man, I'm
glad to see ye! Ye'll mak me an auld man, whether I will or no. And
how hae ye been, and where hae ye been?"--And, as he speaks, he flings
his tawse over to the corner where his desk stands. The young stranger
still cordially shakes his hand, a few kindly words pass between them,
and the teacher, turning to his scholars, says--"You may put by your
books and slates, and go for the day;" when an instantaneous movement
takes place through the school; there is a closing of books, a
clanking of slates, a pocketing of pencils, a clutching for hats,
caps, and bonnets, a springing over seats, and a falling off seats, a
rushing to the door, and a shouting when at the door a "_hurra for
play!_"--and the stranger seems to have made a hundred happy, while
the teacher and he retire, to
"Drink a cup o' kindness,
For auld langsyne."
But to proceed with our story of stories. There was a Dr Montgomery, a
native of Annan, who, after he had been for more than twenty years a
physician in India, where he had become rich, visited his early home,
which was also the grave of his fathers. There were but few of his
relatives in life when he returned (for death makes sad havoc in
families in twenty years); but, after he had seen them, he inquired if
his old teacher, Mr Grierson, yet lived; and being answered in the
affirmative, the doctor proceeded to the residence of his first
instructor. He found him occupying the same apartments in which he
resided thirty years before, and which were situated on the south side
of the main street, near the bridge.
When the first congratulations--the shaking of hands and the
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MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
Crown 8vo, Cloth, 6/-
THE SACRIFICE. (Also a SIXPENNY EDITION.)
EVE'S APPLE.
HENRY IN SEARCH OF A WIFE.
UNCLE POLPERRO.
LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN
MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD
BY
ALPHONSE COURLANDER
[Illustration]
LONDON
T. FISHER UNWIN
ADELPHI TERRACE
1913
_First Edition_ _May 1912_
_Second Impression_ _July 1912_
_Third Impression_ _October 1913_
[_All Rights Reserved_]
CONTENTS
PART I
EASTERHAM 9
PART II
LILIAN 71
PART III
ELIZABETH 199
PART IV
PARIS 281
PART I
EASTERHAM
MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD
I
If you had been standing on a certain cold night in January opposite
the great building where _The Day_ is jewelled in electric lights
across the dark sky, you would have seen a little, stout man run down
the steps of the entrance at the side, three at a time, land on the
pavement as if he were preparing to leap the roadway, with the sheer
impetus of the flight of steps behind him, and had suddenly thought
better of it, glance hurriedly at the big, lighted clock whose hands,
formed of the letters _T-H-E D-A-Y_, in red and green electric lights,
showed that it was nearly half-past twelve, and suddenly start off in a
terrible hurry towards Chancery Lane, as though pursued by some awful
thing.
Considering the bulkiness of the little man, he ran remarkably well. He
dodged a light newspaper van that was coming recklessly round Fetter
Lane, for there was none of the crowded traffic of daylight to be
negotiated, and then, he turned the corner of Chancery Lane--and there
you would have seen the last of him. He would have vanished from your
life, a stumpy little man, with an umbrella popped under one arm, a
bundle of papers grasped in his hand, a hat jammed down on his head,
and the ends of a striped muffler floating in the breeze of his own
making.
The sight of a man running, even in these days when life itself goes
with a rush, is sufficient to awaken comment in the mind of the
onlooker. It suggests pursuit, the recklessness of other days; it
impels, instinctively, the cry of "Stop, thief," for no man runs unless
he is hunted by a powerful motive. Therefore it may be assumed that
since I have sent a man bolting hard out of your sight up the lamp-lit
avenue of Chancery Lane, you are wondering why the devil he's in such a
hurry.
Well, he was hurrying because the last train to Shepherd's Bush goes
at 12.35, and, as he had been away from home since ten o'clock that
morning, he was rather anxious to get back. He could not afford a cab
fare, though only a few hours ago he had been eating oysters, bisque
soup, turbot, pheasant, asparagus out of season and pêche Melba at the
Savoy Hotel with eighteenpence in his pocket--and the odd pence had
gone to the waiter and the cloakroom man. So that by the time he had
reached the top of Chancery Lane, dashed across the road and through
the door of the station, where a porter would have slammed the grille
in another second, and bought his ticket with an explosive, panting
"Bush," he had just tenpence left.
The lift-man knew him, nodded affably and said: "Just in time, Mr
Pride."
"A hard run," said Mr Pride; and then with a cheery smile, "never mind;
good for the liver." There were only a few people in the lift--four men
and a woman to be precise. He knew the men as casual acquaintances of
the last tube train. There was Denning, a sporting sub-editor on _The
Lantern_; another was a proof-reader on one of the afternoon papers,
who finished work in the evening but never went home before the last
tube; then there was Harlem, the librarian of _The Day_, an amazing
man who spoke all the European languages, and some of the Asiatic ones
after his fifth glass of beer; the fourth was a friend of Harlem, a
moody young man who wore his hair long, smoked an evil-looking pipe,
and seemed to be a little unsteady on his feet. As for the woman, Pride
knew her well by sight. She had hair that was of an unreal yellow, and
a latch-key dangled from her little finger as though it were a new kind
of ring. She always got out at Tottenham Court Road.
As the lift went down, its high complaining noise falling to a low
buzzing sound seemed like the tired murmur of a weary human being glad
that rest had come at last. The sound of the approaching train came
rolling through the tunnel. They all rushed desperately down the short
flight of steps that led to the platform, as the train came in with a
rattle of doors opening and slamming, and scrambled for seats, while
the uniformed men, who appeared to be the only thoroughly wide-awake
people in the neighbourhood, said in the most contradictory fashion:
"Stand clear of the gates," "Hurry on, please," and "Passengers off
first."
Pride found himself in the smoking carriage, opposite Harlem, with
his young friend at his side. It never occurred to him that there was
anything exceptional in his dash for the last train. He did it four
nights out of the week, as a matter of course. He was fifty years old,
though he pretended he was ten years younger, and shaved his face clean
to keep up the illusion. He used to explain to his friends that he came
of a family famous for baldness in early years.
"Been busy?" asked Harlem, filling his pipe.
"Nothing to speak of," said Pride. "Turned up at the office at eleven,
but there was nothing doing until after lunch. Then I had to go and see
Sir William Darton--they're going to start the Thames Steamboats again.
He wasn't at home, and he wasn't in his office, but I found him at six
o'clock in the Constitutional. Got back and found they'd sent home for
my dress clothes, and left a nice little envelope with the ticket of
the Canadian Dinner.... That's why I'm so late to-night...."
Pride filled his own pipe, and sighed. "The old days are over!" he
said. "They used to post our assignments overnight--'Dear Mr Pride,
kindly do a quarter of a column of the enclosed meeting.' Why, _The
Sentinel_ used to allow us five shillings every time we put on evening
dress."
"Well, _The Sentinel_ was a pretty dull paper before the Kelmscotts
bought it and turned it into a halfpenny," said Harlem. "Look at it
now, a nice, bright paper--oh, by the way, do you know Cannock," he
jerked his head to the man at his side. "He's _The Sentinel's_ latest
acquisition. This is Tommy Pride, one of the ancient bulwarks of _The
Sentinel_, until they fired him. Now he's learning to be a halfpenny
journalist."
Pride looked at the young man.
"I don't know about being the latest acquisition," Cannock said. "As a
matter of fact, they've fired _me_ to-day."
"It's a hobby of theirs now," Harlem remarked. "You'll get a job on
_The Day_ if you ask for one. There's always room with us, ain't there,
Tommy?"
Pride looked wistfully at the clouds of blue smoke that rose from his
lips.... Yes, he thought, there was always room on _The Day_--at any
moment they might decide to make alterations in the staff. The fact
of Cannock's being sacked mattered nothing; he was a young man, and
for young men, knocking at the door of Fleet Street, there was always
an open pathway. Think of the papers there were left to work for--the
evenings and the dailies, and even when they were exhausted, perhaps a
job on a weekly paper, or the editorship of one of the scores of penny
and sixpenny magazines. And, after that, the provinces and the suburbs
had their papers. Pride knew: in his long experience he had wandered
from one paper to another, two years here, three years here, until the
halfpenny papers had brought a new type of journalist into the street.
"Married?" asked Pride.
"Not me!" replied Cannock, with a slight hiccough.
"Well, you're all right. You can free-lance if you want to
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THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE, VOLUME I.
By Thomas Paine
Collected And Edited By Moncure Daniel Conway
Transcriber's Note:This file posted, on the US President's Day Holiday,
in memory of Thomas Paine, one of our most influential and most
unappreciated patriots.
THE AMERICAN CRISIS
Table of Contents
Editor's Preface
The Crisis No. I
The Crisis No. II - To Lord Howe
The Crisis No. III
The Crisis No. IV
The Crisis No. V - To General Sir William Howe
- To The Inhabitants Of America
The Crisis No. VI - To The Earl Of Carlisle, General Clinton, And
William Eden, ESQ., British Commissioners At New York
The Crisis No. VII - To The People Of England
The Crisis No. VIII - Addressed To The People Of England
The Crisis No. IX - The Crisis Extraordinary - On the Subject
of Taxation
The Crisis No. X - On The King Of England's Speech
- To The People Of America
The Crisis No. XI - On The Present State Of News
- A Supernumerary Crisis (To Sir Guy Carleton.)
The Crisis No. XII - To The Earl Of Shelburne
The Crisis No. XIII - On The Peace, And The Probable Advantages
Thereof
A Supernumerary Crisis - (To The People Of America)
THE AMERICAN CRISIS.
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
THOMAS PAINE, in his Will, speaks of this work as The American Crisis,
remembering perhaps that a number of political pamphlets had appeared in
London, 1775-1776, under general title of "The Crisis." By the blunder
of an early English publisher of Paine's writings, one essay in the
London "Crisis" was attributed to Paine, and the error has continued
to cause confusion. This publisher was D. I. Eaton, who printed as
the first number of Paine's "Crisis" an essay taken from the London
publication. But his prefatory note says: "Since the printing of this
book, the publisher is informed that No. 1, or first Crisis in this
publication, is not one of the thirteen which Paine wrote, but a
letter previous to them." Unfortunately this correction is sufficiently
equivocal to leave on some minds the notion that Paine did write the
letter in question, albeit not as a number of his "Crisis "; especially
as Eaton's editor unwarrantably appended the signature "C. S.,"
suggesting "Common Sense." There are, however, no such letters in the
London essay, which is signed "Casca." It was published August, 1775,
in the form of a letter to General Gage, in answer to his Proclamation
concerning the affair at Lexington. It was certainly not written by
Paine. It apologizes for the Americans for having, on April 19, at
Lexington, made "an attack upon the King's troops from behind walls and
lurking holes." The writer asks: "Have not the Americans been driven
to this frenzy? Is it not common for an enemy to take every advantage?"
Paine, who was in America when the affair occurred at Lexington, would
have promptly denounced Gage's story as a falsehood, but the facts known
to every one in America were as yet not before the London writer. The
English "Crisis" bears evidence throughout of having been written in
London. It derived nothing from Paine, and he derived nothing from it,
unless its title, and this is too obvious for its origin to require
discussion. I have no doubt, however, that the title was suggested
by the English publication, because Paine has followed its scheme in
introducing a "Crisis Extraordinary." His work consists of thirteen
numbers, and, in addition to these, a "Crisis Extraordinary" and a
"Supernumerary Crisis." In some modern collections all of these have been
serially numbered, and a brief newspaper article added, making sixteen
numbers. But Paine, in his Will, speaks of the number as thirteen,
wishing perhaps, in his characteristic way, to adhere to the number
of the American Colonies, as he did in the thirteen ribs of his iron
bridge. His enumeration is therefore followed in the present volume, and
the numbers printed successively, although other writings intervened.
The first "Crisis" was printed in the Pennsylvania Journal, December
19, 1776, and opens with the famous sentence, "These are the times that
try men's souls"; the last "Crisis" appeared April 19,1783, (eighth
anniversary of the first gun of the war, at Lexington,) and opens with
the words, "The times that tried men's souls are over." The great
effect produced by Paine's successive publications has been attested by
Washington and Franklin, by every leader of the American Revolution,
by resolutions of Congress, and by every contemporary historian of the
events amid which they were written. The first
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Produced by Susan Skinner, Les Galloway and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
LETTERS
ON
NATURAL MAGIC,
ADDRESSED TO
SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.
BY
SIR DAVID BREWSTER, LL.D., F.R.S.
[Illustration: Three figures on hill-top saluting sunrise]
SEVENTH EDITION.
LONDON:
WILLIAM TEGG AND Co., 85, QUEEN STREET.
CHEAPSIDE.
1856.
CONTENTS.
LETTER I.
Extent and interest of the subject--Science employed by
ancient governments to deceive and enslave their subjects--Influence
of the supernatural upon ignorant minds--Means
employed by the ancient magicians to establish
their authority--Derived from a knowledge of the phenomena
of Nature--From the influence of narcotic drugs
upon the victims of their delusion--From every branch of
science--Acoustics--Hydrostatics--Mechanics--Optics--M.
Salverte’s work on the occult sciences--Object of
the following letters Page 1
LETTER II.
The eye the most important of our organs--Popular description
of it--The eye is the most fertile source of mental
illusions--Disappearance of objects when their images fall
upon the base of the optic nerve--Disappearance of objects
when seen obliquely--Deceptions arising from viewing
objects in a faint light--Luminous figures created by
pressure on the eye, either from external causes or from
the fulness of the blood-vessels--Ocular spectra or accidental
colours--Remarkable effects produced by intense
light--Influence of the imagination in viewing these
spectra--Remarkable illusion produced by this affection
of the eye--Duration of impressions of light on the
eye--Thaumatrope--Improvements upon it suggested--Disappearance
of halves of objects or
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[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: A YOUNG PRINCE WATCHING THE SCOTS GUARDS FROM
MARLBOROUGH HOUSE]
PEEPS AT MANY LANDS
ENGLAND
BY
JOHN FINNEMORE
CONTAINING TWELVE FULL-PAGE
ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1908
CONTENTS
I. IN LONDON TOWN--I.
II. IN LONDON TOWN--II.
III. IN LONDON TOWN--III.
IV. OLD FATHER THAMES--I.
V. OLD FATHER THAMES--II.
VI. IN A CATHEDRAL CITY
VII. THROUGH WESSEX--I.
VIII. THROUGH WESSEX--II.
IX. THROUGH WESSEX--III.
X. ROUND THE TORS
XI. THE LAND OF SAINTS
XII. IN SHAKESPEARE'S COUNTRY
XIII. AN OLD ENGLISH HOUSE
XIV. BY FEN AND BROAD
XV. BY DALE AND FELL
XVI. THE PLAYGROUND OF ENGLAND--I.
XVII. THE PLAYGROUND OF ENGLAND--II.
XVIII. HEROES OF THE STORM
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS LOI A YOUNG PRINCE WATCHING THE SCOTS
GUARDS FROM MARLBOROUGH HOUSE... _Rose Barton_. _Frontispiece_
LONDON: ST. PAUL'S AND LUDGATE HILL... _Herbert Marshall_
BY AN ENGLISH RIVER... _Birket Foster_
TOMB OF THE BLACK PRINCE IN
CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL... _W. Biscombe Gardner_
IN AN ENGLISH COUNTRY TOWN... _Walter Tyndale_
IN AN ENGLISH LANE... _Birket Foster_
SHAKESPEARE'S BIRTHPLACE... _Fred Whitehead_
AN ENGLISH COUNTRY HOUSE... _Walter Tyndale_
IN AN ENGLISH VILLAGE... _W. Biscombe Gardner_
AN ENGLISH COTTAGE... _Mrs. Allingham_
IN AN ENGLISH WOOD... _Stilton Palmer_
ON AN ENGLISH COMMON... _Birket Foster_ ELOI
[Illustration: SKETCH-MAP OF ENGLAND.]
ENGLAND
IN LONDON TOWN--I.
London is the greatest city in the world. How easy it is to say that
or read it! How very, very hard it is to get the least idea of what it
means! We may talk of millions of people, of thousands of streets, of
hundreds of thousands of houses, but words will give us little grasp of
what London means. And if we go to see for ourselves, we may travel up
and down its highways and byways until we are dizzy with the rush of
its hurrying crowds, its streams of close-packed vehicles, its rows
upon rows of houses, shops, banks, churches, museums, halls, theatres,
and begin to think that at last we have seen London. But alas for our
fancy! We find that all the time we have only been in one small corner
of it, and the great city spreads far and wide around the district we
have learned to know, just as a sea spreads around an islet on its
broad surface.
When we read or hear of London, we are always coming across the terms
West End and East End. West and East of what? Where is the
dividing-line? The dividing-place is the City, the heart of London,
the oldest part of the great town. Once the City was a compact little
town inside a strong wall which kept out its enemies. It was full of
narrow streets, where shops stood thickly together, and over the shops
lived the City merchants in their tall houses. The narrow streets and
the shops are still there, but the merchants have long since gone to
live elsewhere, and the walls have been pulled down.
Now the City is nothing but a business quarter. It is packed with
offices, warehouses, banks and public buildings, and it is the busiest
part of London by day and the quietest by night. It is a wonderful
sight to see the many, many thousands of people who work in the City
pour in with the morning and stream out at evening. Every road, every
bridge, leading to and from the City is packed with men and women, boys
and girls, marching like a huge army, flowing and ebbing like the tides
of the sea.
In the centre of the City there is a famous open space where seven
streets meet. It is famous for the buildings which surround it, and
the traffic which flows through it. All day long an endless stream of
omnibuses, cabs, drays, vans, carts, motor-cars, motor-buses,
carriages, and every kind of vehicle which runs on wheels, pours by.
So great is the crush of traffic that underground passages have now
been built for people to cross from side to side, and that is a very
good thing, for only the very nimble could dodge their way through the
mass of vehicles.
Upon one side of this space there stands a building with blank walls,
not very high nor very striking in appearance. But it is the Bank of
England, where the money matters of half the world are dealt with! If
we went inside we should find that the Bank is built around a
courtyard, into which the windows look. Thus there is no chance for
burglars to break in, and besides, the Bank is guarded very carefully,
for its cellars are filled with great bars of gold, and its drawers are
full of sovereigns and crisp bank-notes.
Upon the other side of the busy
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Project Gutenberg Etext Elinor Wyllys, by Susan Fenimore Cooper
Volume 2
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by Susan Fenimore Cooper
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Project Gutenberg Etext Elinor Wyllys, by Susan Fenimore Cooper
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Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
Issued May 31, 1907.
U. S. DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE.
FARMERS' BULLETIN 297.
METHODS OF DESTROYING RATS.
BY
DAVID E. LANTZ,
_Assistant, Bureau of Biological Survey_.
[Illustration]
WASHINGTON:
GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE.
1907.
[Transcriber's Note: Words surrounded by tildes, like ~this~ signifies
words in bold. Words surrounded by underscores, like _this_, signifies
words in italics.]
LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL.
U. S. DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE,
BUREAU OF BIOLOGICAL SURVEY,
_Washington, D. C., May 15, 1901_.
SIR: I have the honor to transmit herewith for publication Farmers'
Bulletin No. 297, containing concise directions for the destruction of
rats, prepared by David E. Lantz, an assistant in this Bureau. The
damage done by these rodents, both in cities and in the country, is
enormous, and the calls for practical methods of destroying them are
correspondingly numerous and urgent. It is believed that by following
the directions here given the numbers of this pest can be greatly
reduced and the losses from them proportionally diminished.
Respectfully,
C. HART MERRIAM,
_Chief, Biological Survey_.
HON. JAMES WILSON,
_Secretary of Agriculture_.
CONTENTS.
Page.
Introduction 3
Methods of destroying rats 4
Poisoning 4
Trapping 5
Use of ferrets and
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THE JIMMYJOHN BOSS AND OTHER STORIES
By Owen Wister
To Messrs. Harper & Bothers and Henry Mills Alden whose friendliness and
fair dealing I am glad of this chance to record
Owen Wister
Preface
It's very plain that if a thing's the fashion--
Too much the fashion--if the people leap
To do it, or to be it, in a passion
Of haste and crowding, like a herd of sheep,
Why then that thing becomes through imitation
Vulgar, excessive, obvious, and cheap.
No gentleman desires to be pursuing
What every Tom and Dick and Harry's doing.
Stranger, do you write books? I ask the question,
Because I'm told that everybody writes
That what with scribbling, eating, and digestion,
And proper slumber, all our days and nights
Are wholly filled. It seems an odd suggestion--
But if you do write, stop it, leave the masses,
Read me, and join the small selected classes.
The Jimmyjohn Boss
I
One day at Nampa, which is in Idaho, a ruddy old massive jovial man
stood by the Silver City stage, patting his beard with his left hand,
and with his right the shoulder of a boy who stood beside him. He had
come with the boy on the branch train from Boise, because he was a
careful German and liked to say everything twice--twice at least when it
was a matter of business. This was a matter of very particular business,
and the German had repeated himself for nineteen miles. Presently the
east-bound on the main line would arrive from Portland; then the Silver
City stage would take the boy south on
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17TH CENTURIES***
E-text prepared by Al Haines
Transcriber's note:
Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed
in curly braces, e.g. {99}. They have been located where page
breaks occurred in the original book.
SPIRITUAL REFORMERS IN THE 16TH & 17TH CENTURIES
by
RUFUS M. JONES, M.A., D.Litt.
Professor Of Philosophy, Haverford College, U.S.A.
MacMillan and Co., Limited
St. Martin's Street, London
1914
Copyright
_OTHER VOLUMES IN THIS SERIES_
_EDITED By RUFUS M. JONES_
STUDIES IN MYSTICAL RELIGION. (1908.)
By Rufus M. Jones.
THE QUAKERS IN THE AMERICAN COLONIES. (1911).
By Rufus M. Jones, assisted by Isaac Sharpless and Amelia M. Gummere.
THE BEGINNINGS OF QUAKERISM. (1912.)
By William Charles Braithwaite.
THE SECOND PERIOD OF QUAKERISM. (_In preparation._)
By William Charles Braithwaite.
THE LATER PERIODS OF QUAKERISM. (_In preparation._)
By Rufus M. Jones.
{v}
PREFACE
In my _Quakers in the American Colonies_ I announced the preparation of
a volume to be devoted mainly to Jacob Boehme and his influence. I
soon found, however, as my work of research proceeded, that Boehme was
no isolated prophet who discovered in solitude a fresh way of approach
to the supreme problems of the soul. I came upon very clear evidence
that he was an organic part of a far-reaching and significant
historical movement--a movement which consciously aimed, throughout its
long period of travail, to carry the Reformation to its legitimate
terminus, the restoration of apostolic Christianity. The men who
originated the movement, so far as anything historical can be said to
be "originated," were often scornfully called "Spirituals" by their
opponents, while they thought of themselves as divinely commissioned
and Spirit-guided "Reformers," so that I have with good right named
them "Spiritual Reformers."
I have had two purposes in view in these studies. One purpose was the
tracing of a religious movement, profoundly interesting in itself, as a
great side current of the Reformation. The other purpose was the
discovery of the background and environment of seventeenth century
Quakerism. There can be little doubt, I think, that I have here found
at least one of the great historical sources of the Quaker movement.
This volume, together with my _Studies in Mystical Religion_, will at
any rate {vi} furnish convincing evidence that the ideas, aims,
experiences, practices, and aspirations of the early Quakers were the
fruit of long spiritual preparation. This movement, as a whole, has
never been studied before, and my work has been beset with
difficulties. I have been aided by helpful monographs on individual
"Reformers," written mainly by German and French scholars, who have
been duly credited at the proper places, but for the most part my
material has been drawn from original sources. I am under much
obligation to my friend, Theodor Sippell of Schweinsberg, Germany. I
am glad to announce that he is preparing a critical historical study on
John Everard and the Ranters, which will throw important light on the
religious ideas of the English Commonwealth. He has read my proofs,
and has, throughout my period of research, given me the benefit of his
extensive knowledge of this historical field. I wish to express my
appreciation of the courtesy and kindness which I have received from
the officials of the University Library at Marburg. William Charles
Braithwaite of Banbury, England, has given me valuable help. My wife
has assisted me in all my work of research. She has read and re-read
the proofs, made the Index, and given me an immense amount of patient
help. I cannot close this Preface without again referring to the
inspiration of my invisible friend, John Wilhelm Rowntree, in whose
memory this series was undertaken.
HAVERFORD, PENNSYLVANIA,
_January_ 1914.
{vii}
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION
WHAT IS "SPIRITUAL RELIGION"............... xi
CHAPTER I
THE MAIN CURRENT OF THE REFORMATION ........... 1
CHAPTER II
HANS DENCK AND THE INWARD WORD.............. 17
CHAPTER III
TWO PROPHETS OF THE INWARD WORD: BUeNDERLIN AND ENTFELDER 31
CHAPTER IV
SEBASTIAN FRANCK: AN APOSTLE OF INWARD RELIGION ..... 46
CHAPTER V
CASPAR SCHWENCKFELD AND THE REFORMATION OF THE "MIDDLE WAY" 64
CHAPTER VI
SEBASTIAN CASTELLIO: A FORGOTTEN PROPHET......... 88
{viii}
CHAPTER VII
COORNHERT AND THE COLLEGIANTS--A MOVEMENT FOR
SPIRITUAL RELIGION IN HOLLAND ............. 104
CHAPTER VIII
VALENTINE WEIGEL AND NATURE MYSTICISM .......... 133
CHAPTER IX
JACOB BOEHME: HIS LIFE AND SPIRIT ............ 151
CHAPTER X
BOEHME'S UNIVERSE .................... 172
CHAPTER XI
JACOB BOEHME'S "WAY OF SALVATION" ............ 190
CHAPTER XII
JACOB BOEHME'S INFLUENCE IN ENGLAND ........... 208
CHAPTER XIII
EARLY ENGLISH INTERPRETERS OF SPIRITUAL RELIGION:
JOHN EVERARD, GILES RANDALL, AND OTHERS ........ 235
CHAPTER XIV
SPIRITUAL RELIGION IN HIGH PLACES--ROUS, VANE, AND STERRY 266
{ix}
CHAPTER XV
BENJAMIN WHICHCOTE, THE FIRST OF THE "LATITUDE-MEN" ... 288
CHAPTER XVI
JOHN SMITH, PLATONIST--"AN INTERPRETER OF THE SPIRIT" .. 305
CHAPTER XVII
THOMAS TRAHERNE AND THE SPIRITUAL POETS OF THE
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY .................. 320
CHAPTER XVIII
CONCLUSION........................ 336
INDEX .......................... 351
{x}
Within thy sheltering darkness spin the spheres;
Within the shaded hollow of thy wings.
The life of things,
The changeless pivot of the passing years--
These in thy bosom lie.
Restless we seek thy being; to and fro
Upon our little twisting earth we go:
We cry, "Lo, there!"
When some new avatar thy glory does declare,
When some new prophet of thy friendship sings,
And in his tracks we run
Like an enchanted child, that hastes to catch the sun.
And shall the soul thereby
Unto the All draw nigh?
Shall it avail to plumb the mystic deeps
Of flowery beauty, scale the icy steeps
Of perilous thought, thy hidden Face to find,
Or tread the starry paths to the utmost verge of the sky?
Nay, groping dull and blind
Within the sheltering dimness of thy wings--
Shade that their splendour flings
Athwart Eternity--
We, out of age-long wandering, but come
Back to our Father's heart, where now we are at home.
EVELYN UNDERHILL in _Immanence_, p. 82.
{xi}
INTRODUCTION
WHAT IS "SPIRITUAL RELIGION"
I
There is no magic in words, though, it must be confessed, they often
exercise a psychological influence so profound and far-reaching that
they seem to possess a miracle-working efficacy. Some persons live all
their lives under the suggestive spell of certain words, and it
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_THE ATTIC GUEST_
_A NOVEL_
_By_
_ROBERT E. KNOWLES_
_Author of "The Web of Time"
"St. Cuthbert's" etc._
_New York Chicago Toronto
Fleming H. Revell Company
London and Edinburgh_
Copyright, 1909, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
Chicago: 80 Wabash Avenue
Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W.
London: 21 Paternoster Square
Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street
_To
My Father_
_FOREWORD_
This story, which the authoress herself entitled "The Attic Guest,"
would probably have never been given to the world but for an incidental
visit which I paid to a certain manse. It was then and there that the
following chapters, now first presented to the public, were entrusted
to my hands. The hands which placed the manuscript in my own were
those of a lady of much charm, modest, cultured, winsome; and no one
could know her without feeling that her qualities of heart were even
greater than of intellect. She was a minister's wife, as I need hardly
say; and the busy years in that most mellow of all vineyards had given
her face much of its own spiritual beauty, something of the deep
harvest-joy shining through her eyes. Tranquil eyes were hers,
chastened by many a sorrow, yet aglow with a native merriment that the
stern schooling of a lifetime seemed powerless to subdue.
She asked that I would read her story; "and send it forth," said she,
"if your heart approve."
Her plea for asking this service at my hands was that I had had some
humble association with the world of letters. Mayhap she thought this
pleased me well--and perhaps it did. I urged her to send her book
forth with her own name upon it--but this she firmly refused. She
shrank from the publicity it would involve, she said, as must any
Southern lady. I believed her implicitly. "Especially," she went
on--dwelling earnestly on this--"since my book is the frank and artless
story of the most sacred things of life, of a woman's life at that.
Some will smile," said she, "and some deride, and many disbelieve; but
the story is the story of my inmost work and life and love. Let it see
the light if you think it worthy."
I promised; and thus my promise is redeemed and my humble part is done.
ROBERT E. KNOWLES.
_Galt, Ontario._
CONTENTS
I. The Light Fantastic
II. Just Eighteen
III. The Bridge That Lay Between
IV. The Danger Zone
V. An Alternative
VI. The Glint of the Heather
VII. "The Glory of Their Strength"
VIII. Dealings with the Samaritans
IX. Love's Tutorship
X. The River Leading to the Sea
XI. A Mother Confessor
XII. The Wail of the Lowly
XIII. The Lynching
XIV. Girding on the Armour
XV. "Our Lady of the Snows"
XVI. A Knightly Guest
XVII. My Ordination
XVIII. The Dayspring from on High
XIX. The Taint of Heresy
XX. Harold's Sister--and Another
XXI. "Love's Old Sweet Song"
XXII. When Joy and Sorrow Meet
XXIII. "The Voice of Rachel"
XXIV. "Come, Ettrick; Yarrow, Come"
XXV. A Select Congregation
XXVI. The News a Broker Brought
XXVII. Where Gus Cast Anchor
XXVIII. "To Old Point Comfort, Dear"
XXIX. The Hour of Healing
XXX. Eden in the Attic
_THE ATTIC GUEST_
I
_THE LIGHT FANTASTIC_
"That room in the third story is good enough for any elder," my mother
was saying as I came into the library; "more than likely they'll send
us a country elder anyhow, and he'll never know the difference--he'll
think it's the spare room, I reckon."
I was only eighteen then, and I didn't care much where elders slept, or
whether they slept at all or not. Besides, it was already nine
o'clock, and I was going to a little party where "Tripping the light
fantastic" was to be the order of the evening. By the way, I only
found out the other day that Milton was the author of that fantastic
toe phrase--and the news startled me about as much as if some one had
told me Cromwell invented "Blind Man's Buff."
"Has Dinah got me buttoned right?" I asked, backing up to my Aunt
Agnes. Aunt Agnes was my mother's sister. I can see her yet, her
hands going up in an abstracted kind of way to correct one of Dinah's
oversights; for she was still revolving the great question of the elder
and the attic, the attic and the elder.
"You're all right now, honey," she said in a moment, giving me a gentle
push away, her whole mind reverting to the subject of family concern.
"I'm sure," she went on in the same breath, "it's going to be an elder
from the country. Mr. Furvell told me to wait after prayer-meeting
last night; and he said the billeting committee sat till two in the
morning trying to divide the ministers and elders as fairly as they
could--and he thought we were going to get an elder from Pollocksville."
"Let us hear what Henry thinks about it," my mother suddenly
interrupted, her face turned towards the door as she spoke. "Sit here,
Henry," as she made room on the sofa for my uncle; "sister Agnes thinks
it will be dreadful to send our delegate to the attic if he's to be a
minister--but she doesn't mind a bit if he's an elder."
My uncle smiled as he took his place beside my mother. And the face
that was turned in fondness upon his wife at the other
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WHAT I REMEMBER
VOL. I.
[Illustration: THOMAS ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE
_From a painting by Maria Taylor_
London: Richard Bentley & Son
_Printed in Paris_]
WHAT I REMEMBER
BY
THOMAS ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE
[Illustration: colophon]
_IN TWO VOLUMES_
VOL. I
_SECOND EDITION_
LONDON
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON
Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen
1887
RICHARD CLAY AND SONS,
LONDON AND BUNGAY.
OMNIBUS WICCAMICIS
T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE
B. M. DE WINTON PROPE WINTON COLL.
OLIM ALUMNUS
GRATO ANIMO
D. D. D.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
EARLY DAYS IN LONDON 1
CHAPTER II.
EARLY DAYS IN LONDON 28
CHAPTER III.
AT HARROW 57
CHAPTER IV.
AT HARROW 81
CHAPTER V.
AT WINCHESTER 94
CHAPTER VI.
AT WINCHESTER 125
CHAPTER VII.
VISIT TO AMERICA 150
CHAPTER VIII.
VISIT TO AMERICA 168
CHAPTER IX.
AT OXFORD 190
CHAPTER X.
OLD DIARIES 221
CHAPTER XI.
OLD DIARIES 228
CHAPTER XII.
OLD DIARIES 243
CHAPTER XIII.
OLD DIARIES.--AT PARIS 261
CHAPTER XIV.
AT BRUGES.--AT HADLEY 290
CHAPTER XV.
GERMAN TOUR.--IN AUSTRIA 306
CHAPTER XVI.
IN AUSTRIA 328
CHAPTER XVII.
AT BIRMINGHAM 344
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 355
CHAPTER XIX.
MESMERIC EXPERIENCES 362
INDEX 397
WHAT I REMEMBER
CHAPTER I.
I have no intention of writing an autobiography. There has been nothing
in my life which could justify such a pretension. But I have lived a
long time. I remember an aged porter at the monastery of the “Sagro
Eremo,” above Camaldoli, who had taken brevet rank as a saint solely on
the score of his ninety years. His brethren called him and considered
him as Saint Simon simply because he had been porter at that gate for
more than sixty years. Now my credentials as a babbler of reminiscences
are of a similar nature to those of the old porter. I have been here so
many, many years. And then those years have comprised the best part of
the nineteenth century--a century during which change has been more
rapidly at work among all the surroundings of Englishmen than probably
during any other century of which social history has to tell.
Of course middle-aged men know, as well as we ancients, the fact that
social life in England--or rather let me say in Europe--is very
different from what it was in the days of their fathers, and are
perfectly well acquainted with the great and oftentimes celebrated
causes which have differentiated the Victorian era from all others. But
only the small records of an unimportant individual life, only the
memories which happen to linger in an old man’s brain, like bits of
drift-weed floating round and round in the eddies of a back-water, can
bring vividly before the young of the present generation those ways and
manners of acting and thinking and talking in the ordinary every-day
affairs of life which indicate the differences between themselves and
their grandfathers.
I was born in the year 1810 at No. 16, Keppel Street, Russell Square.
The region was at that time inhabited by the professional classes,
mainly lawyers. My father was a barrister of the Middle Temple to the
best of my recollection, but having chambers in the Old Square,
Lincoln’s Inn. A quarter of a century or so later, all the district in
question became rather deteriorated in social estimation, but has, I am
told, recently recovered itself in this respect under the careful and
judicious administration of the Duke of Bedford. The whole region
appeared to me, when I was recently in London, about the least changed
part of the London of my youthful days. As I walked up Store Street,
which runs in a line from Keppel Street to Tottenham Court Road, I spied
the name of “Pidding, Confectioner.” I immediately entered the shop and
made a purchase at the counter. “I did not in the least want this tart,”
said I to the girl who was serving in the shop. “Why did you take it,
then?” said she, with a little toss of her head. “Nobody asked you to
buy it.” “I bought it,” rejoined I, “because I used to buy pastry of Mr.
Pidding in this shop seventy years ago.” “Lor’, sir!” said the girl,
“did you really?” She probably considered me to be the W
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to Diane Evans for proofreading.
A NEW WITNESS FOR GOD.
* * * *
BY
ELDER B. H. ROBERTS
AUTHOR OF
"THE GOSPEL," "THE LIFE OF JOHN TAYLOR," "OUTLINES OF ECCLESIASTICAL
HISTORY," "SUCCESSION IN THE PRESIDENCY OF THE CHURCH," ETC., ETC.
* * * *
"Some millions must be wrong, that's pretty clear. * * * * 'Tis time
that some new prophet should appear."
* * * *
PUBLISHED BY GEORGE Q. CANNON & SONS COMPANY, SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH.
1895.
PREFACE.
Three quarters of a century have passed away since Joseph Smith
first declared that he had received a revelation from God. From that
revelation and others that followed there has sprung into existence
what men call a new religion--"Mormonism;" and a new church, the
institution commonly known as the "Mormon Church," the proper name of
which, however, is THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS.
Though it may seem a small matter, the reader should know that
"Mormonism" is not a new religion. Those who accept it do not so regard
it; it makes no such pretentions. The institution commonly called the
"Mormon Church," is not a new church; it makes no such pretensions, as
will be seen by its very name--the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints. This of itself discloses what "The Mormon Church" claims to
be--the Church of Jesus Christ; and to distinguish it from the Church
of Jesus Christ that existed in former days, the phrase "of Latter-day
Saints" is added. "Mormonism," I repeat, is not a new religion; it is
the Old Religion, the Everlasting Gospel, restored again to the earth
through the revelations received by Joseph Smith.
At a glance the reader will observe that these claims in behalf of
"Mormonism" pre-suppose the destruction of the primitive Christian
Church, a complete apostasy from the Christian religion; and hence,
from the standpoint of a believer, "Mormonism" is the Gospel of Jesus
Christ restored; and the institution which grows out of it--the
church--is the Church of Jesus Christ re-established among men.
During the three quarters of a century that have elapsed since the
first revelation was announced by Joseph Smith, the world has been
flooded with all manner of rumors concerning the origin of "Mormonism,"
its doctrines, its organization, its purposes, its history. Books
enough to make a respectable library, as to size, have been written on
these subjects, but the books, in the main, are the works of avowed
enemies, or of sensational writers who chose "Mormonism" for a subject
because in it they supposed they had a theme that would be agreeable to
their own vicious tastes and perverted talents, and give satisfactory
returns in money for their labor. This latter class of writers have
not only written without regard to truth, but without shame. They are
ghouls who have preyed upon the misfortunes of an unpopular people
solely for the money or notoriety they could make out of the enterprise.
That I may not be thought to overstate the unreliability of anti-Mormon
literature, I make an excerpt from a book written by Mr. Phil
Robinson, called _Sinners and Saints_. [1] Mr. Robinson came to Utah
in 1882 as a special correspondent of _The New York World,_ and stayed
in Utah some five or six months, making "Mormonism" and the Latter-day
Saints a special study. On the untrustworthiness of the literature in
question, he says:
"Whence have the public derived their opinions about Mormonism? From
anti-Mormons only. I have ransacked the literature of the subject,
and yet I really could not tell anyone where to go for an impartial
book about Mormonism later in date than Burton's 'City of the Saints,'
published in 1862. * * * But put Burton on one side, and I think I
can defy any one to name another book about the Mormons worthy of
honest respect. From that truly _awful_ book, 'The History of the
Saints,' published by one Bennett (even an anti-Mormon has styled him
'the greatest rascal that ever came to the West,') in 1842, down to
Stenhouse's in 1873, there is not to my knowledge a single Gentile work
before the public that is not utterly unreliable from its distortion of
facts. Yet it is from these books--for there are no others--that the
American public has acquired nearly all its ideas about the people of
Utah."
It may be asked why have not the Saints themselves written books
refuting the misrepresentations of their detractors, and giving correct
information about themselves and their religion. To that inquiry there
are several answers. One is that they _have_ made the attempt. Perhaps
not on a sufficiently extensive scale. They may not have appreciated
fully the importance of doing so; but chiefly the reason they have
not published more books in their own defense, and have not been more
solicitous about refuting slanders published against them, is because
of the utter impossibility of getting a hearing. The people to whom
they appealed were hopelessly prejudiced against them. Their case was
prejudged and they themselves condemned before a hearing could be had.
These were the disadvantages under which they labored; and how serious
such disadvantages are, only those know who have felt the cruel tyranny
of prejudice.
Now, however, there seems to be a change in the tide of their
affairs. Prejudice has somewhat subsided. There is in various
quarters indications of a willingness to hear what accredited
representatives of the "Mormon" faith may have to say in its behalf.
It is this circumstance that has induced the author to present for the
consideration of his fellow-men this work, which is written, however,
not with a view of defending the character of the Latter-day Saints,
but to set forth the message that "Mormonism" has to proclaim to the
world, and point out the evidences of divine inspiration in him through
whom that message was delivered.
The author has chosen for his work the title, "A NEW WITNESS FOR GOD,"
because that is the relation Joseph Smith, the great modern prophet,
sustains to this generation; and it is the author's purpose to prove,
first, that the world stands in need of such a witness; and, second,
that Joseph Smith is that witness.
The subject is treated under four THESES.
I.
_The world needs a New Witness for God._
II.
_The Church of Christ was destroyed; there has been an apostasy from
the Christian religion so complete and universal as to make necessary a
New Dispensation of the Gospel;_
III.
_The Scriptures declare that the Gospel of Jesus Christ in the last
days--in the hour of God's judgment--will be restored to the earth by a
re-opening of the heavens, and giving a New Dispensation thereof to the
children of men._
IV.
_Joseph Smith is the New Witness for God; a prophet divinely authorized
to preach the Gospel and re-establish the Church of Jesus Christ on
earth._
How well the writer has succeeded in sustaining these propositions, the
reader will judge for himself; he only asks that his treatment of the
subjects be considered with candor.
To guard against error or inaccuracy in doctrine the writer applied to
the First Presidency of the Church for a committee of brethren well
known for their soundness in the faith, and broad knowledge of the
doctrines of the Church, to hear read the manuscript of this book.
Whereupon Elder Franklin D. Richards, one of the Twelve Apostles of the
New Dispensation, and Church Historian; Elder George Reynolds, one of
the author's fellow-Presidents in the First Council of the Seventies;
and Elder John Jaques, Assistant Church Historian, were appointed as
such committee; and to these brethren, for their patient labor in
reading the manuscript, and for their suggestions and corrections, the
writer is under lasting obligations.
THE AUTHOR.
Footnotes
1. p. 245.
CONTENTS
* * * *
THESIS I.
THE WORLD NEEDS A NEW WITNESS FOR GOD.
CHAPTER I.
The Necessity of a New Witness
* * * *
THESIS II.
THE CHURCH OF CHRIST WAS DESTROYED; THERE HAS BEEN AN APOSTASY FROM THE
CHRISTIAN RELIGION, SO COMPLETE AND UNIVERSAL AS TO MAKE NECESSARY A
NEW DISPENSATION OF THE GOSPEL.
CHAPTER II.
The Effect of Pagan Persecution on the Christian Church
CHAPTER III.
The Effect of Peace, Wealth and Luxury on Christianity
CHAPTER IV.
Changes in the Form and Spirit of Church Government--Corruption of the
Popes
CHAPTER V.
Change in Public Worship--In the Ordinances of the Gospel
CHAPTER VI.
The Testimony of Prophecy to the Apostasy
CHAPTER VII.
Catholic Arguments--Protestant Admissions
* * * *
THESIS III.
THE SCRIPTURES DECLARE THAT THE GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST IN THE LAST
DAYS--IN THE HOUR OF GOD'S JUDGMENT--WILL BE RESTORED TO THE EARTH BY A
RE-OPENING OF THE HEAVENS, AND GIVING A NEW DISPENSATION THEREOF TO THE
CHILDREN OF MEN.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Necessity of a New Revelation--The Arguments of Modern Christians
Against it Considered
CHAPTER IX.
Prophetic History of the Church--The Restoration of the Gospel by an
Angel
* * * *
THESIS IV.
JOSEPH SMITH IS THE NEW WITNESS FOR GOD; A
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NOTES
ON
THE BOOK OF GENESIS.
"Things new and old."
FIRST AMERICAN EDITION.
PHILADELPHIA:
HENRY LONGSTRETH,
1336 CHESTNUT STREET.
1863.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I. 13
CHAPTER II. 29
CHAPTER III. 42
CHAPTER IV., V. 64
CHAPTER VI.-IX. 90
CHAPTER X. 115
CHAPTER XI. 118
CHAPTER XII. 123
CHAPTER XIII. 140
CHAPTER XIV. 151
CHAPTER XV. 158
CHAPTER XVI. 171
CHAPTER XVII. 181
CHAPTER XVIII. 189
CHAPTER XIX. 197
CHAPTER XX. 205
CHAPTER XXI. 210
CHAPTER XXII. 217
CHAPTER XXIII. 230
CHAPTER XXIV. 235
CHAPTER XXV. 248
CHAPTER XXVI. 251
CHAPTER XXVII.-XXXV. 256
CHAPTER XXXVI. 300
CHAPTER XXXVII.-L. 300
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 305
CHAPTER XXXIX.-XLV. 306
PREFACE.
To all who love and relish the simple gospel of the grace of God, I
would earnestly recommend the following "Notes on the Book of Genesis."
They are characterized by a deep-toned evangelical spirit. Having had
the privilege of reading them in MS., I can speak as one who has found
profit therefrom. Man's complete ruin in sin, and God's perfect remedy
in Christ, are fully, clearly, and often strikingly, presented,
especially in the earlier chapters.
To Christ's servants in the gospel sound, forcible statements as to
what _sin_ is and what _grace_ is, are deeply valuable in the present
time, when so much that is merely superficial is abroad.
The gospel of Christ, as perfectly meeting man's nature, condition, and
character, is comparatively little known, and less proclaimed. Hence,
the numerous doubts, fears, and unsettled questions which fill the
hearts and perplex the consciences of many of God's dear children.
Until the soul is led to see that the entire question of sin and the
claims of divine holiness were _all and forever settled_ on the
cross, sweet, quiet rest of conscience will be but little known.
Nothing can meet the urgent cry of a troubled conscience but the one
perfect sacrifice of Christ; offered _to_ God _for us_, on the cross.
"For even Christ _our_ passover is sacrificed _for us_." There, and
there alone it will find a _perfect answer_ to its every claim; because
there it will find, through believing, all ground of doubt and fear
removed, the whole question of sin eternally settled, every divine
requirement fully met, and a solid foundation laid for present, settled
peace, in the presence of divine holiness: Christ "delivered for our
offences, and raised again for our justification," settles every thing.
The moment we believe the gospel, we are saved, and ought to be
divinely happy. "He that believeth on the Son _hath_ everlasting life."
(Rom. iv. v.; John iii.)
We see the greatness of God's love to the sinner in his judgment of
sin in the person of his own dear Son on the cross. There God, in
perfect grace to us, dealt with sin according to his infinite holiness
and justice. He went down to the depths of our ruin and all our sin,
measured it, judged it, and put it forever away, _root_ and _branch_,
by shedding the precious blood of the spotless Victim. "He condemned
sin in the flesh;" that is, he there condemned the evil root of sin
which is in our flesh,--our carnal nature. But he also "made an end of
sins,"--of the actual sins of every believer. Thus, between God and
Christ alone the entire question of sin was gone into, and finally
settled on the cross. "Simon Peter said unto him, Lord whither goest
thou? Jesus answered him, Whither I go _thou canst not follow me now_."
Just as Abraham and Isaac were alone on the top of the mountain in the
land of Moriah, so were God and Christ alone, amidst the solemnities
and solitudes of Calvary. The only part we had in the cross was, that
our _sins_ were there. Jesus _alone_ bore the full weight of their
judgment. (Comp. Dan. ix. 24; Rom. viii. 3; 2 Cor. v. 21; Heb. ix. 26,
28.)
Whenever this blessed truth is learnt from God's own word, and
maintained in the soul by faith, through the power of the Holy Ghost,
all is peace, joy, and victory. It takes the believer completely away
from himself, from his doubts, fears, and questions. And his eye now
gazes on ONE who, by his finished work, has laid the foundation of
divine and everlasting righteousness, and who is now at the right hand
of the Majesty in the highest, as the perfect definition of every true
believer. With him, with him alone, the believer's heart is now to be
occupied.
Faith is fully assured that when _God_ puts away sin, it must be put
away entirely; that, when Jesus exclaimed, "IT IS FINISHED," the work
was done,--God was glorified, the sinner saved, the whole power of
Satan completely destroyed, and peace established on the most solid
basis. Hence, we find, "The God of _peace_ brought again from the dead
our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of
the everlasting covenant." He was the God of _judgment_ at the cross.
He is the God of _peace_ at the opening grave. Every enemy has been
vanquished, and eternal peace proclaimed, through the blood of his
cross. "He was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father." He
rose "in the power of an endless life," and associates every believer
with himself, in the power of that life in resurrection. Having been
cleansed by his blood, they are accepted in his person. (See Eph. i. 6;
Col. ii. 10; 1 John v. 20.)
Jesus, having thus fully accomplished the work that was given him to
do, and gone up on high, the Holy Ghost came down as a witness to us
that redemption was finished, the believer "perfected forever" and
Christ glorified in heaven.
The apostles then began to publish the glad tidings of salvation to the
chief of sinners. The subject of their preaching was, "_Jesus and the
resurrection_." And all who believed on him as risen and glorified were
immediately and eternally saved. "And this is the record that God hath
given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son: he that hath the
Son hath life, and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life." (1
John v. 11, 12.) There is no blessing outside of, or apart from, the
PERSON OF CHRIST--THE HEAVENLY MAN; "for in him dwelleth all the
fulness of the Godhead bodily." Ever since that time, God has been
placing before the sinner, in connection with _his_ gospel, a risen
living Christ, as the ALONE object of faith, and "the end of the law
for righteousness to EVERY ONE THAT BELIEVETH." (Rom. X.)
When the eye is kept on this heavenly Christ, all is light, joy, and
peace; but if it be turned in on self, and occupied with what it
_finds_ there, and what it _feels_, or with any thing whatever that may
come between the heart and Christ, all will be darkness, uncertainty,
and unhappiness in the soul. Oh, how blessedly simple is the gospel of
the grace of God!
The burden of its message to the _lost sinner_ is, "Come, for all
things are now ready;" the question of sin is not raised,--"_Grace
reigns_ through righteousness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our
Lord." Christ, having perfectly satisfied God about sin, the only
question now between God and your heart is this: _Are you perfectly
satisfied with his Christ as the alone portion of your soul?_ This is
the one grand question of the gospel. Christ has settled every other to
the glory of God; and now the Father is going to "make a marriage for
his Son,"--to honor, exalt, and glorify him. Is your heart in full
harmony with God's on this point? Work is not required at your hands;
strength is not needed; fruit is not demanded. God has provided every
thing, and prepared every thing. It is all grace,--the pure grace of
God. "Only believe;" "Come, for all things are now ready." The
marriage-supper; the wedding-garment, royal honors, the Father's
presence, fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore--all are
ready,--ready now--"ready to be revealed." Dear reader, are you ready?
Oh, solemn question! Are you ready? Have you believed the message? Have
you embraced the Son? Are you ready to "Crown him Lord of all?" The
table is spread, the house is filling fast: "yet there is room."
Already you have heard the midnight cry, "Behold the bridegroom
cometh, go ye out to meet him," "and they that were READY went in _with
him_ to the marriage, AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT." "Be ye therefore ready
also: for the Son of man cometh at an hour when ye think not." (Matt.
xxii., xxv.; Luke xii., xiv.)
* * * * *
But I must now refer my reader to the "Notes" themselves, where he will
find this most blessed subject fully, frequently, and pointedly stated,
and many other subjects of deep practical importance; such as the
distinctive position and perfect unity of the Church of God; real
saintship; practical discipleship; sonship; &c., &c.
With the exception of the four gospels, I suppose there is no book in
the Bible more deeply interesting than the Book of Genesis. It comes to
us with all the freshness of God's first book to his people. The
contents are varied, highly instructive, and most precious to the
student of God's entire book.
These "Notes" are again laid at the Master's feet in earnest prayer
that he would take them up and send them forth under the stamp of his
own divine approval. Amen.
A.M.
_London._
PREFATORY NOTE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.
I cannot suffer this Fourth Edition to go forth without an expression
of heartfelt thankfulness to the Lord for his goodness in making use of
such a feeble instrumentality for the profit of souls and the spread of
his own simple truth.
It is an unspeakable privilege to be permitted in any small degree to
minister to the souls of those who are so precious to Christ. "Lovest
thou me?... Feed my sheep." Such were the touching words of the
departing Shepherd; and, assuredly, when they fall powerfully upon the
heart, they must rouse all the energies of one's moral being to carry
out, in every possible way, the gracious desire breathed therein. To
gather and to feed the lambs and sheep of the flock of Christ are
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THE RIDE TO THE LADY
And Other Poems
BY
HELEN GRAY CONE
1891
CONTENTS
The Ride to the Lady
The First Guest
Silence
Arraignment
The Going Out of the Tide
King Raedwald
Ivo of Chartres
Madonna Pia
Two Moods of Failure
The Story of the "Orient"
A Resurrection
The Glorious Company
The Trumpeter
Comrades
The House of Hate
The Arrowmaker
A Nest in a Lyre
Thisbe
The Spring Beauties
Kinship
Compensation
When Willows Green
At the Parting of the Ways
The Fair Gray Lady
The Encounter.
Summer Hours
Love Unsung
The Wish for a Chaplet
Sonnets:
The Torch Race
To Sleep
Sister Snow
The Contrast
A Mystery
Triumph
In Winter, with the Book we had in Spring
Sere Wisdom
Isolation
The Lost Dryad
The Gifts of the Oak
The Strayed Singer
The Immortal Word
THE RIDE TO THE LADY
"Now since mine even is come at last,--
For I have been the sport of steel,
And hot life ebbeth from me fast,
And I in saddle roll and reel,--
Come bind me, bind me on my steed!
Of fingering leech I have no need!"
The chaplain clasped his mailed knee.
"Nor need I more thy whine and thee!
No time is left my sins to tell;
But look ye bind me, bind me well!"
They bound him strong with leathern thong,
For the ride to the lady should be long.
Day was dying; the poplars fled,
Thin as ghosts, on a sky blood-red;
Out of the sky the fierce hue fell,
And made the streams as the streams of hell.
All his thoughts as a river flowed,
Flowed aflame as fleet he rode,
Onward flowed to her abode,
Ceased at her feet, mirrored her face.
(Viewless Death apace, apace,
Rode behind him in that race.)
"Face, mine own, mine alone,
Trembling lips my lips have known,
Birdlike stir of the dove-soft eyne
Under the kisses that make them mine!
Only of thee, of thee, my need!
Only to thee, to thee, I speed!"
The Cross flashed by at the highway's turn;
In a beam of the moon the Face shone stern.
Far behind had the fight's din died;
The shuddering stars in the welkin wide
Crowded, crowded, to see him ride.
The beating hearts of the stars aloof
kept time to the beat of the horse's hoof,
"What is the throb that thrills so sweet?
Heart of my lady, I feel it beat!"
But his own strong pulse the fainter fell,
Like the failing tongue of a hushing bell.
The flank of the great-limbed steed was wet
Not alone with the started sweat.
Fast, and fast, and the thick black wood
Arched its cowl like a black friar's hood;
Fast, and fast, and they plunged therein,--
But the viewless rider rode to win,
Out of the wood to the highway's light
Galloped the great-limbed steed in fright;
The mail clashed cold, and the sad owl cried,
And the weight of the dead oppressed his side.
Fast, and fast, by the road he knew;
And slow, and slow, the stars withdrew;
And the waiting heaven turned weirdly blue,
As a garment worn of a wizard grim.
He neighed at the gate in the morning dim.
She heard no sound before her gate,
Though very quiet was her bower.
All was as her hand had left it late:
The needle slept on the broidered vine,
Where the hammer and spikes of the passion-flower
Her fashioning did wait.
On the couch lay something fair,
With steadfast lips and veiled eyne;
But the lady was not there,
On the wings of shrift and prayer,
Pure as winds that winnow snow,
Her soul had risen twelve hours ago.
The burdened steed at the barred gate stood,
No whit the nearer to his goal.
Now God's great grace assoil the soul
That went out in the wood!
THE FIRST GUEST
When the house is finished, Death enters.
_Eastern Proverb_
Life's House being ready all,
Each chamber fair and dumb,
Ere life, the Lord, is come
With pomp into his hall,--
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available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
RIDING: ON THE FLAT AND ACROSS COUNTRY.
A Guide to Practical Horsemanship. Third Edition. Illustrated by
STURGESS. Square 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._
_The Standard._--“A master of his subject.”
VETERINARY NOTES FOR HORSE OWNERS.
A Popular Manual of Veterinary Surgery and Medicine. Fourth Edition.
Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 10_s._ 6_d._
_The Field._--“Of the many popular veterinary books which have come
under our notice, this is certainly one of the most scientific and
reliable.”
TRAINING AND HORSE MANAGEMENT IN INDIA.
Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._
_The Veterinary Journal._--“No better guide could be placed in the hands
of either amateur horseman or veterinary surgeon.”
SOUNDNESS AND AGE OF HORSES. Over 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 8_s._
6_d._
_The Field._--“Is evidently the result of much careful research, and the
horseman, as well as the veterinarian, will find in it much that is
interesting and instructive.”
INDIAN RACING REMINISCENCES. Illustrated by I. KNOX FERGUSSON. Crown.
8vo. 8_s._ 6_d._
_The Field._--“The last page comes all too soon.”
THE STUDENT’S MANUAL OF TACTICS. Crown 8vo. 6_s._
_The Times._--“Captain Hayes’s book deals exclusively with tactics, and
is a well-considered treatise on that branch of the art of war, giving
not merely rules, but, also, principles and reason.”
ILLUSTRATED
HORSE BREAKING.
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED
HORSE BREAKING.
BY
CAPT. M. HORACE HAYES,
LATE OF ‘THE BUFFS.’
AUTHOR OF “RIDING: ON THE FLAT AND ACROSS COUNTRY;”
“VETERINARY NOTES FOR HORSE OWNERS;”
“RACING REMINISCENCES IN INDIA;”
“TRAINING AND HORSE MANAGEMENT IN INDIA,” ETC.
Fifty-two Illustrations by
J. H. OSWALD BROWN.
LONDON:
W. THACKER & CO., 87, NEWGATE STREET.
CALCUTTA: THACKER, SPINK & CO.
BOMBAY: THACKER & CO. LIMITED
1889.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--THEORY OF HORSE-BREAKING 1
II.--PRINCIPLES OF MOUTHING 41
III.--HORSE-CONTROL 77
IV.--RENDERING HORSES DOCILE 147
V.--GIVING HORSES GOOD MOUTHS 166
VI.--TEACHING HORSES TO JUMP 188
VII.--MOUNTING HORSES FOR THE FIRST TIME 197
VIII.--BREAKING HORSES FOR LADIES’ RIDING 209
IX.--BREAKING HORSES TO HARNESS 212
X.--FAULTS OF MOUTH 216
XI.--NERVOUSNESS AND IMPATIENCE OF CONTROL 222
XII.--JIBBING IN SADDLE 227
XIII.--JUMPING FAULTS 230
XIV.--VICES IN HARNESS 233
XV.--AGGRESSIVENESS 242
XVI.--RIDING AND DRIVING THE NEWLY-BROKEN HORSE 247
XVII.--STABLE VICES 251
XVIII.--TEACHING THE HORSE TRICKS 259
XIX.--TESTING A HORSE’S MANNERS, MOUTH, AND TEMPER 271
XX.--ON IMPROVISED GEAR 272
APPENDIX 274
ILLUSTRATIONS.
FIG. PAGE
1.--HORSE BENDING HIS NECK TO THE REIN WITHOUT SWINGING
ROUND HIS HIND-QUARTERS AT THE SAME TIME, IN
ANSWER TO THE PULL 58
2.--SHEWS HORSE HAVING ANSWERED THE PULL OF OFF REIN
AS HE SHOULD, AND CONSEQUENTLY COMING STRAIGHT
AT HIS FENCE 61
3.--THE PROPER LENGTH FOR A STANDING MARTINGALE 70
4.--FIRST LOOP IN FORMING A HALTER 79
5.--SECOND STEP IN FORMING A ROPE HALTER 79
6.--ROPE-HALTER ON POLE, READY FOR USE 82
7.--HALTING VICIOUS HORSE WITH ROPE-HALTER ON POLE 83
8.--PRATT’S METHOD OF HALTERING 87
9.--NOOSING A FORE-LEG 90
10.--PULLING UP A FORE-LEG WHEN NOOSED 91
11.--PICKING UP A FORE-LEG 95
12.--HOW TO HOLD UP A FORE-LEG 97
13.--RAREY’S LEG-STRAP 100
14.--TYING UP FORE-LEG WITH STIRRUP LEATHER 101
15.--THE BEST METHOD OF FASTENING UP A FORE-LEG 103
16.--A STIRRUP LEATHER AS USED FOR HOLDING UP A FORE-LEG 106
17.--THE HALTER-TWITCH 109
18.--DO. DO. 110
19.--PRATT’S ROPE-TWITCH, FIRST PORTION 114
20.--PRATT’S TWITCH COMPLETED 115
21.--PRATT’S TWITCH ON HORSE’S HEAD, AND TIGHTENED AT
WORD “STEADY” 116
22.--HEAD-STALL TWITCH ON HORSE 117
23.--THE BRIDLE-TWITCH, FRONT AND NEAR-SIDE VIEW 119
24.--THE BRIDLE-TWITCH, OFF-SIDE VIEW 120
25.--THE STRAIGHT-JACKET 122
26.--HORSE WITH STRAIGHT-JACKET ON 123
27.--PICKING UP A HIND-LEG 127
28.--FIRST STEP IN PICKING UP A HIND-LEG WITHOUT THE
ASSISTANCE OF A HELPER 130
29.--SECOND STEP IN PICKING UP A HIND-LEG WITHOUT THE
ASSISTANCE OF A HELPER 133
30.--SHEWING HOW TO FASTEN A ROPE TO THE END OF HORSE’S
TAIL WITH A “DOUBLE SHEET BEND” 136
31.--HIND HOOF HELD UP BY TWO ASSISTANTS WITH ROPE FROM
TAIL 137
32.--LEG PULLED BACK WITH ONE ROPE, A METHOD TO BE
AVOIDED, AS THROWING THE HORSE OFF HIS BALANCE 139
33.--MODE OF FASTENING A ROPE TO A SHORT TAIL 140
34.--SHORT-TAILED HORSE WITH ROPES ATTACHED TO TAIL 141
35.--IMPROVISED HOBBLE MADE WITH A STIRRUP IRON 144
36.--WOODEN GAG 145
37.--CRUPPER LEADING REIN 149
38.--THROWING A HORSE BY MEANS OF PULLING HIS HEAD
ROUND WITH A ROPE 155
39.--HORSE WITH HIS HEAD PULLED ROUND WHEN THROWN 159
40.--BEST METHOD OF KEEPING A HORSE ON THE GROUND THAT
HAS FALLEN IN HARNESS 163
41.--HORSE WITH DRIVING GEAR ON 168
42.--HORSE WITH DRIVING PAD ON, NEW MODEL 169
43.--BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF POSITION OF DRIVER 175
44.--DRIVING ON FOOT 184
45.--DO. DO. 185
46.--HORSE PREPARED TO BE MOUNTED FOR THE FIRST TIME 200
47.--SECONG STAGE IN BREAKING A HORSE FOR RIDING 201
48.--PULLING KICKER’S HEAD ROUND IN STALL 253
49.--TAIL TIED WITH TAPES TO PREVENT HORSE RUBBING IT 257
50.--COMMANCHE BRIDLE, OFF SIDE 262
51.--COMMANCHE BRIDLE, NEAR SIDE 263
52.--THE KNOT ON OFF SIDE OF COMMANCHE BRIDLE ENLARGED 264
PREFACE.
I offer this work to the favourable consideration of the public, as an
attempt to describe a reasoned-out system of horse-breaking, which I
have found, by practical experience, to be easy of execution, rapid in
its effects, and requiring the possession of no exceptional strength,
activity, pluck, or horsemanship by the operator, who, to become expert
in it, will, as a rule, need only practice. It is in accordance with our
English and Irish ideas on the subject; for it aims at teaching the
horse “manners,” and giving him a snaffle-bridle mouth; so that he will
“go up to the bridle,” and “bend” himself in thorough obedience to rein
and leg.
As a personal explanation, I may mention that after having spent many
years racing and training in India, during which time I practised the
ordinary methods of breaking, I returned to England, where I learned the
use of the standing martingale and long driving reins, as applied
specially to jumpers, from Mr. John Hubert Moore, who was the cleverest
“maker” of steeplechasers Ireland ever knew. He, I may remark, obtained
these methods, in his youth, from an old Irish breaker, named Fallon,
who was born more than a century ago. I had also valuable instruction in
“horse taming” from Professor Sample. Having read an account of MM.
Raabe and Lunel’s “_hippo-lasso_,” as a means of control for veterinary
operations, I conceived, with happy results, the idea of utilising this
ingenious contrivance in breaking. I also learned, about the same time,
how to halter a loose horse without running any danger of being kicked,
or bitten.
Having thus acquired a fair amount of information, on what has always
been to me a favourite subject, I naturally wished to put it into
practice.
As I knew, judging from my former ignorance, how much men in India stood
in need of instruction in horse-breaking, I determined to return to that
country with the object of teaching this art; so as to acquire the
experience I needed, and to “pay my expenses” at the same time. I am
glad to say that I was successful in both respects. During a two years’
tour, I held classes at all the principal stations of the Empire--from
Tricinopoly to Peshawur, and from Quetta to Mandalay--and, having met a
very large number of vicious animals and fine horsemen, I obtained
experience, and greatly added to my stock of knowledge, which I shall
now try to utilise for the benefit of my readers. As I proceeded through
India, I felt the necessity of rejecting some methods I had formerly
prized, altering others, and adopting new ones; so that the course of
instruction which I was able to give to my more recent classes, was far
more extensive, and of better proved utility, than what I had to offer
at the beginning of my travels. The great want which I had, at first,
felt was a method by which a person could secure and handle, with
perfect safety, any horse, no matter how vicious he might be. However,
after many kicks, a few bites, and several lucky escapes, I was able to
perfect the required method, which is so simple, that the only wonder is
that I did not think of it before. I may explain that the Australian
horses met with in India, where they form a considerable proportion of
the animals used for riding and driving, are far more dangerous and
difficult to handle and control, than British stock. Had I remained in
England all my life, I should not have acquired a quarter of the
experience of vicious horses I was afforded, during the time I lately
spent in India. It goes almost without saying, that the harder the
pupil is to teach, the greater chance has the instructor of becoming
expert in his business. I need hardly say, that I shall, always, be very
grateful to any of my readers who may favour me with special information
on this, or kindred subjects.
I may mention, that, after returning from India, I held classes in
England, Gibraltar, Malta, Egypt, Ceylon, Singapore, and China.
I have much pleasure in giving, in the body of this work, the sources
from which I have taken various hints.
The chief claim I, here, make to originality, is, that in bringing
together the results of experience in different countries, I have
endeavoured to reduce the art of breaking horses to a more or less
complete system, many of the principles of which, I venture to think, I
have been the first to expound, and that I have made several
improvements in existing methods. The new things which I have introduced
need no special mention here.
My best thanks are due to Mr. J. H. Oswald Brown, for the faithful and
painstaking manner in which he has illustrated the letter-press of this
book. The drawings speak for themselves.
Although I am aware that the proceeding on my part may be deemed
unusual; still, in order to strengthen my words, I have ventured to
submit to my readers, in an appendix, the recorded opinions of various
members of my classes on the practical working of the theories and
methods described in this book.
I shall, at all times, be ready to give practical instruction to persons
wishing to learn this art of making the horse a safe, and pleasant
conveyance.
JUNIOR ARMY AND NAVY CLUB,
ST. JAMES’S STREET, LONDON. S.W.
_January 1, 1889._
ILLUSTRATED HORSE-BREAKING.
CHAPTER I.
THEORY OF HORSE-BREAKING.
Object of horse-breaking--Causes of faults which can be remedied by
breaking--Vice in the horse--Distinction between nervousness and
deliberate vice--Mental qualities of the horse--Association of
ideas in breaking--Value and scope of breaking--On the possibility
of overcoming any form of vice--Necessity for obtaining control
over the horse--On the nature of the coercion to be applied to
unruly horses--Punishment--Fatigue as a means of
subjugation--Effect of the voice--Personal influence in
breaking--Advisability of possessing various methods of breaking--A
good mouth, the chief requirement--Permanency in the effects of
breaking--Expedition in breaking--The ordinary method of
breaking--Breaking by kindness alone--The rough and ready style of
breaking--Summary of the principles of the art of rendering horses
docile.
_The object of horse-breaking_ is to teach the animal to obey the orders
of his master in the best possible manner. Hence, this art includes
instruction in the advantageous application of his powers, as well as
methods for rendering him docile.
* * * * *
_Causes of faults which can be remedied by breaking are_:--1.
Nervousness; or the unnecessary fear of the presence or handling of man,
or of the effect of any of the horse’s other surroundings, which,
however startling they might be to him in a wild state, he can find by
experience will not hurt him.
2. Impatience of control, which frequently co-exists with nervousness,
in the same animal.
3. Ignorance of the meaning of the indications used by man to convey his
wishes to the horse.
4. Deliberate disobedience. There is no doubt that sulkiness of temper
is, often, inherited.
5. Active hostility, which, as far as my experience goes, is, always,
the result of bad treatment, whether brought on by cruelty, or by
allowing a naturally fractious animal to get the upper hand.
It is evident that vices caused by disease, or infirmity, do not come
within the province of the breaker.
6. The fact of having been taught some trick--for instance, kicking when
touched behind the saddle--the practice of which constitutes a vice.
* * * * *
_Vice in the Horse_, from a breaking point of view, may be held to
signify the practice, on the part of the animal towards man, of
disobedience--wilful or otherwise--of any legitimate command; or want of
docility.
* * * * *
_The distinction between nervousness and deliberate vice_ may be easily
made, if we observe how a horse acts after we have proved to him that he
need have no fear of us. For instance, if we fix up a horse, say, in a
“strait-jacket,” (see page 118) so that he cannot kick, and continue to
“gentle” him over with our hand, until he is thoroughly assured of the
good faith of our intentions; we might justly term him a vicious brute
if he kicked at us, without our touching him, the moment the restraint
was removed. I may mention, in this connection, that fear of the near
approach of man will often induce a purely nervous animal to kick out,
if a person, and especially a stranger, ventures to come within reach.
Although we may frequently find a horse kick from nervousness, he will
rarely bite from that cause alone. As a verbal distinction between
faults due to deliberate vice, and those caused by fear of man, or of
the animal’s strange surroundings, would not, generally, be understood
at first glance, I need not attempt to make it in these pages.
The more experience I acquire in the breaking of horses, the more
convinced I become, that the so-called “nervousness” of animals that
have been handled some time, is largely made up of impatience of
control,
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[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: A YOUNG PRINCE WATCHING THE SCOTS GUARDS FROM
MARLBOROUGH HOUSE]
PEEPS AT MANY LANDS
ENGLAND
BY
JOHN FINNEMORE
CONTAINING TWELVE FULL-PAGE
ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1908
CONTENTS
I. IN LONDON TOWN--I.
II. IN LONDON TOWN--II.
III. IN LONDON TOWN--III.
IV. OLD FATHER THAMES--I.
V. OLD FATHER THAMES--II.
VI. IN A CATHEDRAL CITY
VII. THROUGH WESSEX--I.
VIII. THROUGH WESSEX--II.
IX. THROUGH WESSEX--III.
X. ROUND THE TORS
XI. THE LAND OF SAINTS
XII. IN SHAKESPEARE'S COUNTRY
XIII. AN OLD ENGLISH HOUSE
XIV. BY FEN AND BROAD
XV. BY DALE AND FELL
XVI. THE PLAYGROUND OF ENGLAND--I.
XVII. THE PLAYGROUND OF ENGLAND--II.
XVIII. HEROES OF THE STORM
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS LOI A YOUNG PRINCE WATCHING THE SCOTS
GUARDS FROM MARLBOROUGH HOUSE... _Rose Barton_. _Frontispiece_
LONDON: ST. PAUL'S AND LUDGATE HILL... _Herbert Marshall_
BY AN ENGLISH RIVER... _Birket Foster_
TOMB OF THE BLACK PRINCE IN
CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL... _W. Biscombe Gardner_
IN AN ENGLISH COUNTRY TOWN... _Walter Tyndale_
IN AN ENGLISH LANE... _Birket Foster_
SHAKESPEARE'S BIRTHPLACE... _Fred Whitehead_
AN ENGLISH COUNTRY HOUSE... _Walter Tyndale_
IN AN ENGLISH VILLAGE... _W. Biscombe Gardner_
AN ENGLISH COTTAGE... _Mrs. Allingham_
IN AN ENGLISH WOOD... _Stilton Palmer_
ON AN ENGLISH COMMON... _Birket Foster_ ELOI
[Illustration: SKETCH-MAP OF ENGLAND.]
ENGLAND
IN LONDON TOWN--I.
London is the greatest city in the world. How easy it is to say that
or read it! How very, very hard it is to get the least idea of what it
means! We may talk of millions of people, of thousands of streets, of
hundreds of thousands of houses, but words will give us little grasp of
what London means. And if we go to see for ourselves, we may travel up
and down its highways and byways until we are dizzy with the rush of
its hurrying crowds, its streams of close-packed vehicles, its rows
upon rows of houses, shops, banks, churches, museums, halls, theatres,
and begin to think that at last we have seen London. But alas for our
fancy! We find that all the time we have only been in one small corner
of it, and the great city spreads far and wide around the district we
have learned to know, just as a sea spreads around an islet on its
broad surface.
When we read or hear of London, we are always coming across the terms
West End and East End. West and East of what? Where is the
dividing-line? The dividing-place is the City, the heart of London,
the oldest part of the great town. Once the City was a compact little
town inside a strong wall which kept out its enemies. It was full of
narrow streets, where shops stood thickly together, and over the shops
lived the City merchants in their tall houses. The narrow streets and
the shops are still there, but the merchants have long since gone to
live elsewhere, and the walls have been pulled down.
Now the City is nothing but a business quarter. It is packed with
offices, warehouses, banks and public buildings, and it is the busiest
part of London by day and the quietest by night. It is a wonderful
sight to see the many, many thousands of people who work in the City
pour in with the morning and stream out at evening. Every road, every
bridge, leading to and from the City is packed with men and women, boys
and girls, marching like a huge army, flowing and ebbing like the tides
of the sea.
In the centre of the City there is a famous open space where seven
streets meet. It is famous for the buildings which surround it, and
the traffic which flows through it. All day long an endless stream of
omnibuses, cabs, drays, vans, carts, motor-cars, motor-buses,
carriages, and every kind of vehicle which runs on wheels, pours by.
So great is the crush of traffic that underground passages have now
been built for people to cross from side to side, and that is a very
good thing, for only the very nimble could dodge their way through the
mass of vehicles.
Upon one side of this space there stands a building with blank walls,
not very high nor very striking in appearance. But it is the Bank of
England, where the money matters of half the world are dealt with! If
we went inside we should find that the Bank is built around a
courtyard, into which the windows look. Thus there is no chance for
burglars to break in, and besides, the Bank is guarded very carefully,
for its cellars are filled with great bars of gold, and its drawers are
full of sovereigns and crisp bank-notes.
Upon the other side of the busy space stands the Mansion House, where
the Lord Mayor of London lives during his year of office. Here are
held gay feasts, and splendid processions often march up to the doors;
for if a king or great prince visits London, he is always asked to
visit the City, and he goes in state to a fine banquet.
A third great building is the Royal Exchange, adorned with its great
pillars, and here the merchants meet, and business matters affecting
every corner of the globe are dealt with.
But there are two places which we must glance at before we leave the
City, whatever else we miss, and these are the Tower and St. Paul's
Cathedral. And first of all we will go to the Tower, for it is the
oldest and most famous of all the City's many buildings. Nay, the
Tower is more than that: it is one of the famous buildings of the world.
For many hundreds of years the grey old Tower has raised its walls
beside the Thames, and in its time it has played many parts. It has
been a fortress, a palace, a treasure-house, and a prison. William the
Conqueror began it, William Rufus went on with the work, and the latter
finished the central keep, the famous White Tower, the heart of the
citadel. For many centuries the Tower was the strongest place in the
land, with its thick walls and its deep moat filled with water from the
Thames, and the rulers of England took great care to keep it in their
own hands.
To-day it is a show-place more than anything else, and everyone is free
to visit it, to see the Crown jewels stored there, and to view the
splendid collection of weapons and armour. But after all the place
itself is the finest thing to see--to wander through the rooms where
kings and queens have lived, to stand in the dungeons and
prison-chambers where some of the best and noblest of our race have
been shut up, and to climb the narrow winding stairs from floor to
floor.
Many of the prisoners of the Tower were brought into it by the
Traitor's Gate, a great gloomy archway under which the waters of the
Thames once flowed. In those days the river was the great highway of
London, and when the judges at Westminster had condemned a prisoner to
be sent to the Tower, he was carried down the river in a barge and
landed at the Traitor's Gate. Many and many a poor prisoner saw his
last glimpse of the outer world from the gloomy gate. Before him lay
nothing save a dreadful death at the hands of the headsman.
Outside the White Tower there is a garden, where once stood the block
where the greatest of the prisoners were beheaded. Outside the Tower
is Tower Hill, where those of a lesser rank suffered; we may still see
in the Tower a headsman's block whereon heads have been laid and necks
offered to the sharp, heavy axe. As for the names of those who have
been executed in the Tower, history is full of them--Lady Jane Grey,
Sir Thomas More, Anne Boleyn, Sir Walter Raleigh, Katherine Howard, the
Earl of Essex, to name but a few who have suffered there. An earlier
tragedy than any of these is the murder of the two little princes,
Edward V. and his brother, put to death by command of Richard of
Gloucester, Richard Crookback, their wicked uncle who wanted to seize
the throne.
From the upper windows of the White Tower we can see the river crowded
with ships and steamers and barges, and on a fine day it is a most
beautiful sight. But the most striking thing in the view is the Tower
Bridge. "This is a new bridge, and it has two great towers rising one
on each side, as it seems, to the sky, and the bridge lies across low
down between those towers. But when a big ship comes and wants to get
up the river under the bridge, what is
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[Illustration: FIGHT WITH THE GRIZZLY BEARS. _p. 290._]
THE
BACKWOODSMAN;
OR,
=Life on the Indian Frontier.=
[Illustration]
LONDON:
WARD, LOOK, AND TYLER,
WARWICK HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW.
THE
BACKWOODSMAN
OR
=Life on the Indian Frontier.=
EDITED BY
SIR C. F. LASCELLES WRAXALL, BART.
[Illustration: WL&T]
LONDON:
WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER,
WARWICK HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY J. OGDEN AND CO.,
172, ST. JOHN STREET, E.C.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. MY SETTLEMENT 1
II. THE COMANCHES 6
III. A FIGHT WITH THE WEICOS 12
IV. HUNTING ADVENTURES 19
V. THE NATURALIST 30
VI. MR. KREGER'S FATE 41
VII. A LONELY RIDE 53
VIII. THE JOURNEY CONTINUED 66
IX. HOMEWARD BOUND 82
X. THE BEE HUNTER 99
XI. THE WILD HORSE 114
XII. THE PRAIRIE FIRE 126
XIII. THE DELAWARE INDIAN 137
XIV. IN THE MOUNTAINS 151
XV. THE WEICOS 162
XVI. THE BEAR HOLE 173
XVII. THE COMANCHE CHIEF 185
XVIII. THE NEW COLONISTS 208
XIX. A BOLD TOUR 224
XX. THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS 238
XXI. LOST IN THE MOUNTAINS 253
XXII. BEAVER HUNTERS 267
XXIII. THE GRIZZLY BEARS 282
XXIV. ASCENT OF THE BIGHORN 300
XXV. ON THE PRAIRIE 326
XXVI. THE COMANCHES 345
XXVII. HOME AGAIN 363
XXVIII. INDIAN BEAUTIES 381
XXIX. THE SILVER MINE 396
XXX. THE PURSUIT 412
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE BACKWOODSMAN
CHAPTER I.
MY SETTLEMENT.
My blockhouse was built at the foot of the mountain chain of the Rio
Grande, on the precipitous banks of the River Leone. On three sides it
was surrounded by a fourteen feet stockade of split trees standing
perpendicularly. At the two front corners of the palisade were small
turrets of the same material, whence the face of the wall could be held
under fire in the event of an attack from hostile Indians. On the south
side of the river stretched out illimitable rolling prairies, while the
northern side was covered with the densest virgin forest for many miles.
To the north and west I had no civilized neighbours at all, while to the
south and east the nearest settlement was at least 250 miles distant. My
small garrison consisted of three men, who, whenever I was absent,
defended the fort, and at other times looked after the small field and
garden as well as the cattle.
As I had exclusively undertaken to provide my colony with meat, I rarely
stayed at home, except when there was some pressing field work to be
done. Each dawn saw me leave the fort with my faithful dog Trusty, and
turn my horse either toward the boundless prairie or the mountains of
the Rio Grande.
Very often hunting kept me away from home for several days, in which
case I used to bivouac in the tall grass by the side of some prattling
stream. Such oases, though not frequent, are found here and there on the
prairies of the Far West, where the dark, lofty magnolias offer the
wearied traveller refreshment beneath their thick foliage, and the
stream at their base grants a cooling draught. One of these favourite
spots of mine lay near the mountains, about ten miles from my abode. It
was almost the only water far and wide, and here formed two ponds, whose
depths I was never able to sound, although I lowered large stones
fastened to upwards of a hundred yards of lasso. The small space between
the two ponds was overshadowed by the most splendid magnolias, peca-nut
trees, yuccas, evergreen oaks, &c., and begirt by a wall of cactuses,
aloes, and other prickly plants. I often selected this place for
hunting, because it always offered a large quantity of game of every
description, and I was certain at any time of finding near this water
hundreds of wild turkeys, which constitute a great dainty in the bill of
fare of the solitary hunter.
After a very hot spring day I had sought the ponds, as it was too late
to ride home. The night was glorious; the magnolias and large-flowered
cactuses diffused their vanilla perfume over me; myriads of fireflies
continually darted over the plain, and a gallant mocking-bird poured
forth its dulcet melody into the silent night above my head. The whole
of nature seemed to be revelling in the beauty of this night, and
thousands of insects sported round my small camp fire. It was such a
night as the elves select for their gambols, and for a long time I gazed
intently at the dark blue expanse above me. But, though the crystal
springs incessantly bubbled up to the surface, the Lurleis would not
visit me, for they have not yet strayed to America.
My dog and horse also played around me for a long time, until, quite
tired, they lay down by the fire-side, and all three of us slept till
dawn, when the gobbling of the turkeys aroused us. The morning was as
lovely as the night. To the east the flat prairie bordered the horizon
like a sea; the dark sky still glistened with the splendour of all its
jewels, while the skirt of its garment was dipped in brilliant carmine;
the night fled rapidly toward the mountains, and morn pursued it clad in
his festal robes. The sun rose like a mighty ball over the prairie, and
the heavy dew bowed the heads of the tender plants, as if they were
offering their morning thanksgiving for the refreshment which had been
granted them. I too was saturated with dew, and was obliged to hang my
deerskin suit to dry at the fire; fortunately the leather had been
smoked over a wood fire, which prevents it growing hard in drying. I
freshened up the fire, boiled some coffee, roasted the breast of a
turkey, into which I had previously rubbed pepper and salt, and finished
breakfast with Trusty, while Czar, my famous white stallion, was
greedily browzing on the damp grass, and turned his head away when I
went up to him with the bridle. I hung up the rest of the turkey, as
well as another I had shot on the previous evening, and a leg of deer
meat, in the shadow of a magnolia, as I did not know whether I might not
return to the spot that evening, saddled, and we were soon under weigh
for the mountains, where I hoped to find buffalo.
I was riding slowly along a hollow in the prairie, when a rapidly
approaching sound attracted my attention. In a few minutes a very old
buffalo, covered with foam, dashed past me, and almost at the same
moment a Comanche Indian pulled up his horse on the rising ground about
fifty yards from me. As he had his bow ready to shoot the buffalo, the
savage made his declaration of war more quickly than I, and his first
arrow passed through my game bag sling, leather jacket and waistcoat to
my right breast, while two others whizzed past my ear. To pluck out the
arrow, seize a revolver, and dig the spurs into my horse, were but one
operation; and a second later saw me within twenty yards of the Redskin,
who had turned his horse round and was seeking safety in flight. After a
chase of about two miles over awfully rough ground, where the slightest
mistake might have broken my neck, the Indian's horse began to be
winded, while Czar still held his head and tail erect. I rapidly drew
nearer, in spite of the terrible blows the Redskin dealt his horse, and
when about thirty paces behind the foe, I turned slightly to the left,
in order, if I could, to avoid wounding his horse by my shot. I raised
my revolver and fired, but at the same instant the Indian disappeared
from sight, with the exception of his left foot, with which he held on
to the saddle, while the rest of his body was suspended on the side away
from me. With the cessation of the blows, however, the speed of his
horse relaxed, and I was able to ride close up. Suddenly the Indian
regained his seat and urged on his horse with the whip; I fired and
missed again, for I aimed too high in my anxiety to spare the mustang.
We went on thus at full gallop till we reached a very broad ravine, over
which the Indian could not leap. He, therefore, dashed past my left
hand, trying at the same moment to draw an arrow from the quiver over
his left shoulder. I fired for the third time; with the shot the
Comanche sank back on his horse's croup, hung on with his feet, and went
about a hundred yards farther, when he fell motionless in the tall
grass. As he passed me, I had noticed that he was bleeding from the
right chest and mouth, and was probably already gone to the happy
hunting-grounds. I galloped after the mustang, which soon surrendered,
though with much trembling, to the pale face; I fastened its bridle to
my saddle bow, led both horses into a neighbouring thicket, and reloaded
my revolver.
I remained for about half-an-hour in my hiding-place, whence I could
survey the landscape around, but none of the Indian's comrades made
their appearance, and I, therefore, rode up to him to take his weapons.
He was dead. The bullet had passed through his chest. I took his bow,
quiver and buffalo hide, and sought for the arrows he had shot at me as
I rode back. I resolved to pass the night at the ponds, not only to rest
my animals, but also to conceal myself from the Indians who, I felt
sure, were not far off. I was not alarmed about myself, but in the
event of pursuit by superior numbers, I should have Trusty to protect,
and might easily lose the mustang again.
I reached the springs without any impediment, turned my horses out to
grass in the thicket, and rested myself in the cool shade of the trees
hanging over the ponds. A calm, starry night set in, and lighted me on
my ride home, which I reached after midnight. The mustang became one of
my best horses. It grew much stronger, as it was only four years old
when I captured it; and after being fed for awhile on maize, acquired
extraordinary powers of endurance.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER II.
THE COMANCHES.
The summer passed away in hunting, farm-work, building houses, and other
business, and during this period I had frequently visited the ponds. One
evening I rode to them again in order to begin hunting from that point
the next morning. If I shot buffaloes not too far from my house, I used
to ride back, and at evening drove out with a two-wheeled cart, drawn by
mules, to fetch the meat and salt it for the probable event of a siege.
As I always had an ample supply of other articles for my garrison and
cattle, and as I had plenty of water, I could resist an Indian attack
for a long time. Large herds of buffalo always appear in the
neighbourhood, so soon as the vegetation on the Rocky Mountains begins
to die out, and the cold sets in. They spread over the evergreen
prairies in bands of from five to eight hundred head, and I have often
seen at one glance ten thousand of these relics of the primeval world.
For a week past these wanderers had been moving southwards; but, though
their appearance may be so agreeable to the hunter in these parts, it
reminds him at the same time that his perils are greatly increased by
their advent. Numerous tribes of horse Indians always follow these herds
to the better pasturage and traverse the prairie in every direction, as
they depend on the buffalo exclusively for food. The warmer climate
during the winter also suits them better, as they more easily find
forage for their large troops of horses and mules.
At a late hour I reached the ponds, after supplying myself _en route_
with some fat venison. Before I lit my fire, I also shot two turkeys on
the neighbouring trees, because at this season they are a great dainty,
as they feed on the ripe oily peca-nuts. I sat till late over my small
fire, cut every now and then a slice from the meat roasting on a spit,
and bade my dog be quiet, who would not lie down, but constantly sniffed
about with his broad nose to the ground, and growling sullenly. Czar, on
the contrary, felt very jolly, had abundant food in the prairie grass,
and snorted every now and then so lustily, that the old turkeys round us
were startled from their sleep. It grew more and more quiet. Czar had
lain down by my side, and only the unpleasant jeering too-whoot of the
owl echoed through the night, and interrupted the monotonous chorus of
the hunting wolves which never ceases in these parts. Trusty, my
faithful watchman, was still sitting up with raised nose, when I sank
back on my saddle and fell asleep. The morning was breaking when I
awoke, saturated with dew; but I sprang up, shook myself, made up the
fire, put meat on the spit and coffee to boil, and then leapt into the
clear pond whose waters had so often refreshed me. After the bath I
breakfasted, and it was not till I proceeded to saddle my horse that I
noticed Trusty's great anxiety to call my attention to something. On
following him, I found a great quantity of fresh Indian sign, and saw
that a large number of horses had been grazing round the pond on the
previous day. I examined my horse gear and weapons, opened a packet of
cartridges for my double-barrelled rifle, and then rode in the direction
of the Leone. I had scarce crossed the first upland and reached the
prairie when Czar made an attempt to bolt, and looked round with a
snort. I at once noticed a swarm of Comanches about half a mile behind
me, and coming up at full speed. There was not a moment to lose in
forming a resolution--I must either fly or return to my natural fortress
at the springs. I decided on the latter course, as my enemies were
already too near for my dog to reach the thicket or the Leone before
them, for though the brave creature was remarkably powerful and
swift-footed, he could not beat good horses in a long race.
I therefore turned Czar round, and flew back to the ponds. A narrow
path which I had cut on my first visit through a wall of prickly plants
led to the shady spot between the two ponds, which on the opposite side
were joined by a broad swamp, so that I had only this narrow entrance to
defend. The thicket soon received us. Czar was fastened by the bridle to
a wild grape-vine; my long holster-pistols were thrust into the front of
my hunting-shirt; the belt that held my revolvers was unbuckled, and I
was ready for the attack of the savages. Trusty, too, had put up the
stiff hair on his back, and by his growling showed that he was equally
ready to do his part in the fight. The Indians had come within a few
hundred yards, and were now circling round me with their frightful
war-yell, swinging their buffalo-hides over their heads, and trying, by
the strangest sounds and gestures, either to startle my horse or terrify
me. I do not deny that, although used to such scenes, I felt an icy
coldness down my back at the sight of these demons, and involuntarily
thought of the operation of scalping. I remained as quiet as I could,
however, and resolved not to expend a bullet in vain. The distance was
gradually reduced, and the savages came within about a hundred and fifty
yards, some even nearer. The boldest came within a hundred and twenty
yards of me, while the others shot some dozen arrows at me, some of
which wounded the sappy cactuses around me. The savages continually grew
bolder, and it was time to open the ball, for attacking is half the
battle when engaged with Indians.
I therefore aimed at the nearest man--a powerful, stout, rather elderly
savage, mounted on a very fast golden-brown stallion--and at once saw
that the bullet struck him: in his fall he pulled his horse round
towards me, and dashed past within forty yards, which enabled me to see
that the bullet had passed through his body, and he did not need a
second. About one hundred yards farther on he kissed the ground. After
the shot the band dashed off, and their yell was augmented to a roar
more like that of a wounded buffalo than human voices. They assembled
about half a mile distant, held a short consultation, and then returned
like a whirlwind towards
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TIVERTON TALES
BY
ALICE BROWN
1899
CONTENTS
DOORYARDS
A MARCH WIND
THE MORTUARY CHEST
HORN-O'-THE-MOON
A STOLEN FESTIVAL
A LAST ASSEMBLING
THE WAY OF PEACE
THE EXPERIENCE OF HANNAH PRIME
HONEY AND MYRRH
A SECOND MARRIAGE
THE FLAT-IRON LOT
THE END OF ALL LIVING
DOORYARDS
Tiverton has breezy, upland roads, and damp, sweet valleys; but should
you tarry there a summer long, you might find it wasteful to take many
excursions abroad. For, having once received the freedom of family
living, you will own yourself disinclined to get beyond dooryards,
those outer courts of domesticity. Homely joys spill over into them,
and, when children are afoot, surge and riot there. In them do the
common occupations of life find niche and channel. While bright weather
holds, we wash out of doors on a Monday morning, the wash-bench in the
solid block of shadow thrown by the house. We churn there, also, at the
hour when Sweet-Breath, the cow, goes afield, modestly unconscious of
her own sovereignty over the time. There are all the varying fortunes
of butter-making recorded. Sometimes it comes merrily to the tune of
"Come, butter, come!
Peter stands a-waiting at the gate,
Waiting for his butter-cake.
Come, butter, come!"
chanted in time with the dasher; again it doth willfully refuse, and
then, lest it be too cool, we contribute a dash of hot water, or too
hot, and we lend it a dash of cold. Or we toss in a magical handful of
salt, to encourage it. Possibly, if we be not the thriftiest of
householders, we feed the hens here in the yard, and then "shoo" them
away, when they would fain take profligate dust-baths under the
syringa, leaving unsightly hollows. But however, and with what
complexion, our dooryards may face the later year, they begin it with
purification. Here are they an unfailing index of the severer virtues;
for, in Tiverton, there is no housewife who, in her spring cleaning,
omits to set in order this outer pale of the temple. Long before the
merry months are well under way, or the cows go kicking up their heels
to pasture, or plants are taken from the south window and clapped into
chilly ground, orderly passions begin to riot within us, and we "clear
up" our yards. We gather stray chips, and pieces of bone brought in by
the scavenger dog, who sits now with his tail tucked under him,
oblivious of such vagrom ways. We rake the grass, and then, gilding
refined gold, we sweep it. There is a tradition that Miss Lois May once
went to the length of trimming her grass about the doorstone and
clothes-pole with embroidery scissors; but that was a too-hasty
encomium bestowed by a widower whom she rejected next week, and who
qualified his statement by saying they were pruning-shears.
After this preliminary skirmishing arises much anxious inspection of
ancient shrubs and the faithful among old-fashioned plants, to see
whether they have "stood the winter." The fresh, brown "piny" heads are
brooded over with a motherly care; wormwood roots are loosened, and the
horse-radish plant is given a thrifty touch. There is more than the
delight of occupation in thus stirring the wheels of the year. We are
Nature's poor handmaidens, and our labor gives us joy.
But sweet as these homespun spots can make themselves, in their mixture
of thrift and prodigality, they are dearer than ever at the points
where they register family traits, and so touch the humanity of us all.
Here is imprinted the story of the man who owns the farm, that of the
father who inherited it, and; the grandfather who reclaimed it from
waste; here have they and their womenkind set the foot of daily living
and traced indelible paths. They have left here the marks of tragedy,
of pathos, or of joy. One yard has a level bit of grassless ground
between barn and pump, and you may call it a battlefield, if you will,
since famine and desire have striven there together. Or, if you choose
to read fine meanings into threadbare things, you may see in it a field
of the cloth of gold, where simple love of life and childlike pleasure
met and sparkled for no eye to see. It was a croquet ground, laid out
in the days when croquet first inundated the land, and laid out by a
woman. This was Della Smith, the mother of two grave children, and the
wife of a farmer who never learned to smile. Eben was duller than the
ox which ploughs all day long for his handful of hay at night and his
heavy slumber; but Della, though she carried her end of the yoke with a
gallant spirit, had dreams and desires forever bursting from brown
shells, only to live a moment in the air, and then, like bubbles, die.
She had a perpetual appetite for joy. When the circus came to town, she
walked miles to see the procession; and, in a dream of satisfied
delight, dropped potatoes all the afternoon, to make up. Once, a
hand-organ and monkey strayed that way, and it was she alone who
followed them; for the children were little, and all the saner
house-mothers contented themselves with leaning over the gates till the
wandering train had passed. But Della drained her draught of joy to the
dregs, and then tilted her cup anew. With croquet came her supremest
joy,--one that leavened her days till God took her, somewhere, we hope,
where there is playtime. Della had no money to buy a croquet set, but
she had something far better, an alert and undiscouraged mind. On one
dizzy afternoon, at a Fourth of July picnic, when wickets had been set
up near the wood, she had played with the minister, and beaten him. The
game opened before her an endless vista of delight. She saw herself
perpetually knocking red-striped balls through an eternity of wickets;
and she knew that here was the one pastime of which no soul could tire.
Afterwards, driving home with her husband and two children, still in a
daze of satisfied delight, she murmured absently:--
"Wonder how much they cost?"
"What?" asked Eben, and Della turned, flushed scarlet, and replied:--
"Oh, nothin'!"
That night, she lay awake for one rapt hour, and then she slept the
sleep of conquerors. In the morning, after Eben had gone safely off to
work, and the children were still asleep, she began singing, in a
monotonous, high voice, and took her way out of doors. She always sang
at moments when she purposed leaping the bounds of domestic custom.
Even Eben had learned that, dull as he was. If he heard that guilty
crooning from the buttery, he knew she might be breaking extra eggs, or
using more sugar than was conformable.
"What you doin' of?" he was accustomed to call. But Delia never
answered, and he did not interfere. The question was a necessary
concession to marital authority; he had no wish to curb her ways.
Della scudded about the yard like a willful wind. She gathered withes
from a waiting pile, and set them in that one level space for wickets.
Then she took a handsaw, and, pale about the lips, returned to the
house and to her bedroom. She had made her choice. She was sacrificing
old associations to her present need; and, one after another, she sawed
the ornamenting balls from her mother's high-post bedstead. Perhaps the
one element of tragedy lay in the fact that Della was no mechanician,
and she had not foreseen that, having one flat side, her balls might
decline to roll. But that dismay was brief. A weaker soul would have
flinched; to Della it was a futile check, a pebble under the wave. She
laid her balls calmly aside. Some day she would whittle them into
shape; for there were always coming to Della days full of roomy leisure
and large content. Meanwhile apples would serve her turn,--good alike
to draw a weary mind out of its channel or teach the shape of spheres.
And so, with two russets for balls and the clothes-slice for a mallet
(the heavy sledge-hammer having failed), Della serenely, yet in
triumph, played her first game against herself.
"Don't you drive over them wickets!" she called imperiously, when Eben
came up from the lot in his dingle cart.
"Them what?" returned he, and Della had to go out to explain. He looked
at them gravely; hers had been a ragged piece of work.
"What under the sun'd you do that for?" he inquired. "The young ones
wouldn't turn their hand over for't They ain't big enough."
"Well, I be," said Della briefly. "Don't you drive over 'em."
Eben looked at her and then at his path to the barn, and he turned his
horse aside.
Thereafter, until we got used to it, we found a vivid source of
interest in seeing Della playing croquet, and always playing alone.
That was a very busy summer, because the famous drought came then, and
water had to be carried for weary rods from spring and river. Sometimes
Della did not get her playtime till three in the afternoon, sometimes
not till after dark; but she was faithful to her joy. The croquet
ground suffered varying fortunes. It might happen that the balls were
potatoes, when apples failed to be in season; often her wickets broke,
and stood up in two ragged horns. Sometimes one fell away altogether,
and Della, like the planets, kept an unseen track. Once or twice, the
mistaken benevolence of others gave her real distress. The minister's
daughter, noting her solitary game, mistook it for forlornness, and, in
the warmth of her maiden heart, came to ask if she might share. It was
a timid though official benevolence; but Della's bright eyes grew dark.
She clung to her kitchen chair.
"I guess I won't," she said, and, in some dim way, everybody began to
understand that this was but an intimate and solitary joy. She had
grown so used to spreading her banquets for one alone that she was
frightened at the sight of other cups upon the board; for although
loneliness begins in pain, by and by, perhaps, it creates its own
species of sad and shy content.
Della did not have a long life; and that was some relief to us who were
not altogether satisfied with her outlook here. The place she left need
not be always desolate. There was a good maiden sister to keep the
house, and Eben and the children would be but briefly sorry. They could
recover their poise; he with the health of a simple mind, and they as
children will. Yet he was truly stunned by the blow; and I hoped, on
the day of the funeral, that he did not see what I did. When we went
out to get our horse and wagon, I caught my foot in something which at
once gave way. I looked down--at a broken wicket and a withered apple
by the stake.
Quite at the other end of the town is a dooryard which, in my own mind,
at least, I call the traveling garden. Miss Nancy, its presiding
mistress, is the victim of a love of change; and since she may not
wander herself, she transplants shrubs and herbs from nook to nook. No
sooner does a green thing get safely rooted than Miss Nancy snatches it
up and sets it elsewhere. Her yard is a varying pageant of plants in
all stages of misfortune. Here is a shrub, with faded leaves, torn from
the lap of prosperity in a well-sunned corner to languish under
different conditions. There stands a hardy bush, shrinking, one might
guess, under all its bravery of new spring green, from the premonition
that Miss Nancy may move it tomorrow. Even the ladies'-delights have
their months of garish prosperity, wherein they sicken like country
maids; for no sooner do they get their little feet settled in a dark,
still corner than they are summoned out of it, to sunlight bright and
strong. Miss Nancy lives with a bedridden father, who has grown peevish
through long patience; can it be that slow, senile decay which has
roused in her a fierce impatience against the sluggishness of life, and
that she hurries her plants into motion because she herself must halt?
Her father does not theorize about it. He says, "Nancy never has no
luck with plants." And that, indeed, is true.
There is another dooryard with its infallible index finger pointing to
tell a tale. You can scarcely thread your way through it for vehicles
of all sorts, congregated there to undergo slow decomposition at the
hands of wind and weather. This farmer is a tradesman by nature, and
though, for thrift's sake, his fields must be tilled, he is yet
inwardly constrained to keep on buying and selling, albeit to no
purpose. He is everlastingly swapping and bargaining, giving play to a
faculty which might, in its legitimate place, have worked out the
definite and tangible, but which now goes automatically clicking on
under vain conditions. The house, too, is overrun with useless
articles, presently to be exchanged for others as unavailing, and in
the farmer's pocket ticks a watch which to-morrow will replace with
another more problematic still. But in the yard are the undisputable
evidences of his wild unthrift. Old rusty mowing-machines, buggies with
torn and flapping canvas, sleighs ready to yawn at every crack, all are
here: poor relations in a broken-down family. But children love this
yard. They come, hand in hand, with a timid confidence in their right,
and ask at the back door for the privilege of playing in it. They take
long, entrancing journeys in the mouldy old chaise; they endure
Siberian nights of sleighing, and throw out their helpless dolls to the
pursuing wolves; or the more mercantile-minded among the boys mount a
three-wheeled express wagon, and drive noisily away to traffic upon the
road. This, in its dramatic possibilities, is not a yard to be
despised.
Not far away are two neighboring houses once held in affectionate
communion by a straight path through the clover and a gap in the wall.
This was the road to much friendly gossip, and there were few bright
days which did not find two matrons met at the wall, their heads
together over some amiable yarn; But now one house is closed, its
windows boarded up, like eyes shut down forever, and the grass has
grown over the little path: a line erased, perhaps never to be renewed.
It is easier to wipe out a story from nature than to wipe it from the
heart; and these mutilated pages of the outer life perpetually renew in
us the pangs of loss and grief.
But not all our dooryard reminiscences are instinct with pain. Do I not
remember one swept and garnished plot, never defiled by weed or
disordered with ornamental plants, where stood old Deacon Pitts, upon
an historic day, and woke the echoes with a herald's joy? Deacon Pitts
had the ghoulish delight of the ennuied country mind in funerals and
the mortality of man; and this morning the butcher had brought him news
of death in a neighboring town. The butcher had gone by, and I was
going; but Deacon Pitts stood there, dramatically intent upon his
mournful morsel. I judged that he was pondering on the possibility of
attending the funeral without the waste of too much precious time now
due the crops. Suddenly, as he turned back toward the house, bearing a
pan of liver, his pondering eye caught sight of his aged wife toiling
across the fields, laden with pennyroyal. He set the pan down
hastily--yea, even before the advancing cat!--and made a trumpet of his
hands.
"Sarah!" he called piercingly. "Sarah! Mr. Amasa Blake's passed away!
Died yesterday!"
I do not know whether he was present at that funeral, but it would be
strange if he were not; for time and tide both served him, and he was
always on the spot. Indeed, one day he reached a house of mourning in
such season that he found the rooms quite empty, and was forced to wait
until the bereaved family should assemble. There they sat, he and his
wife, a portentous couple in their dead black and anticipatory gloom,
until even their patience had well-nigh fled. And then an arriving
mourner overheard the deacon, as he bent forward and challenged his
wife in a suspicious and discouraged whisper:--
"Say, Sarah, ye don't s'pose it's all goin' to fush out, do ye?"
They had their funeral.
To the childish memory, so many of the yards are redolent now of wonder
and a strange, sweet fragrance of the fancy not to be described! One,
where lived a notable cook, had, in a quiet corner, a little grove of
caraway. It seemed mysteriously connected with the oak-leaf cookies,
which only she could make; and the child, brushing through the delicate
bushes grown above his head, used to feel vaguely that, on some
fortunate day, cookies would be found there, "a-blowin' and a-growin'."
That he had seen them stirred and mixed
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OUR YOUNG FOLKS.
_An Illustrated Magazine_
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
VOL. I. JANUARY, 1865. NO. I.
HUM, THE SON OF BUZ.
At Rye Beach, during our summer's vacation, there came, as there always
will to seaside visitors, two or three cold, chilly, rainy days,--days
when the skies that long had not rained a drop seemed suddenly to
bethink themselves of their remissness, and to pour down water, not by
drops, but by pailfuls. The chilly wind blew and whistled, the water
dashed along the ground, and careered in foamy rills along the roadside,
and the bushes bent beneath the constant flood. It was plain that there
was to be no sea-bathing on such a day, no walks, no rides; and so,
shivering and drawing our blanket-shawls close about us, we sat down to
the window to watch the storm outside. The rose-bushes under the window
hung dripping under their load of moisture, each spray shedding a
constant shower on the spray below it. On one of these lower sprays,
under the perpetual drip, what should we see but a poor little
humming-bird, drawn up into the tiniest shivering ball, and clinging
with a desperate grasp to his uncomfortable perch. A humming-bird we
knew him to be at once, though his feathers were so matted and glued
down by the rain that he looked not much bigger than a honey-bee, and as
different as possible from the smart, pert, airy little character that
we had so often seen flirting with the flowers. He was evidently a
humming-bird in adversity, and whether he ever would hum again looked to
us exceedingly doubtful. Immediately, however, we sent out to have him
taken in. When the friendly hand seized him, he gave a little, faint,
watery squeak, evidently thinking that his last hour was come, and that
grim Death was about to carry him off to the land of dead birds. What a
time we had reviving him,--holding the little wet thing in the warm
hollow of our hands, and feeling him shiver and palpitate! His eyes were
fast closed; his tiny claws, which looked slender as cobwebs, were
knotted close to his body, and it was long before one could feel the
least motion in them. Finally, to our great joy, we felt a brisk little
kick, and then a flutter of wings, and then a determined peck of the
beak, which showed that there was some bird left in him yet, and that he
meant at any rate to find out where he was.
Unclosing our hands a small space, out popped the little head with a
pair of round brilliant eyes. Then we bethought ourselves of feeding
him, and forthwith prepared him a stiff glass of sugar and water, a drop
of which we held to his bill. After turning his head attentively, like a
bird who knew what he was about and didn't mean to be chaffed, he
briskly put out a long, flexible tongue, slightly forked at the end, and
licked off the comfortable beverage with great relish. Immediately he
was pronounced out of danger by the small humane society which had
undertaken the charge of his restoration, and we began to cast about for
getting him a settled establishment in our apartment. I gave up my
work-box to him for a sleeping-room, and it was medically ordered that
he should take a nap. So we filled the box with cotton, and he was
formally put to bed with a folded cambric handkerchief round his neck,
to keep him from beating his wings. Out of his white wrappings he looked
forth green and grave as any judge with his bright round eyes. Like a
bird of discretion, he seemed to understand what was being done to him,
and resigned himself sensibly to go to sleep.
The box was covered with a sheet of paper perforated with holes for
purposes of ventilation; for even humming-birds have a little pair of
lungs, and need their own little portion of air to fill them, so that
they may make bright scarlet little drops of blood to keep life's fire
burning in their tiny bodies. Our bird's lungs manufactured brilliant
blood, as we found out by experience; for in his first nap he contrived
to nestle himself into the cotton of which his bed was made, and to
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E-text prepared by David Edwards, Carla Foust, 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: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 32581-h.htm or 32581-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32581/32581-h/32581-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32581/32581-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/littlealiensmyra00kellrich
Transcriber's note:
Minor changes have been made to punctuation. Printer's
errors have been corrected and are listed at the end.
LITTLE ALIENS
by
MYRA KELLY
Author of "Little Citizens," "Wards of Liberty,"
"The Golden Season," Etc., Etc.
Illustrated
[Illustration: Together they retrieved it]
New York
Charles Scribner's Sons
1910
Copyright, 1910, by
Charles Scribner's Sons
Published April, 1910
[Decoration]
To
D. M. R.
CONTENTS
PAGE
"EVERY GOOSE A SWAN" 1
"GAMES IN GARDENS" 25
"A BRAND FROM THE BURNING" 63
FRIENDS 107
THE MAGIC CAPE 143
"BAILEY'S BABIES" 163
"THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES" 195
THE ETIQUETTE OF YETTA 227
A BENT TWIG 261
ILLUSTRATIONS
Together they retrieved it _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
"I guess games in gardens ain't so awful healthy for
somebody," said Yetta 32
"I never in my world seen how they all makes" 60
"I must refuse to translate it to you" 70
She staggered back into a chair, fortunately of heavy
architecture, and stared at the apparition before her 140
Patrick was making discipline impossible 178
"What you think we got to our house?" 198
Rosie threw herself into a very ecstasy of her art 246
"EVERY GOOSE A SWAN"
An ideal is like a golden pheasant. As soon as the hunter comes up with
one he kills it in more or less bloody fashion, tears its feathers off,
absorbs what he can of it, and then sets out, refreshed, in pursuit of
another. Or if, being a tender-hearted hunter, he tries to keep it in a
cage to tame it, to teach it, to show it to his friends, it very soon
loses its original character so that beholders disparagingly exclaim:
"Why, it's only a little brown hen! Hardly worth the trouble of
hunting."
But among the pheasant and the trout of the ideal hunting-fields the
true relation between home and school flits ever along the horizon, a
very sea-serpent. Every one has heard of it. Some have pursued it. Some
even vow they have seen it. Almost any one is ready to describe it.
Expeditions have gone forth in search of it, and have come back
empty-handed or with the haziest of kodak films. And the most
conservative of insurance companies would consider it a safe "risk."
In every-day and ordinary conditions this relation between home and
school is really a question of mother and teacher, with the child as its
stamping-ground. Two very busy women, indifferent, hostile, or strangers
to each other, are engaged in the formulated and unformulated education
of the child. To the mother this child is her own particular Mary or
Peter. To the teacher it is the whole generation, of which Peter and
Mary are such tiny parts.
The ideal teacher is as wise as Solomon, as impartial as the telephone
directory, as untiring as a steam
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THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER
by Mark Twain
Part 5.
Chapter XV. Tom as King.
The next day the foreign ambassadors came, with their gorgeous trains;
and Tom, throned in awful state, received them. The splendours of the
scene delighted his eye and fired his imagination at first, but the
audience was long and dreary, and so were most of the addresses
--wherefore, what began as a pleasure grew into weariness and home-sickness
by-and-by. Tom said the words which Hertford put into his mouth from
time to time, and tried hard to acquit himself satisfactorily, but he was
too new to such things, and too ill at ease to accomplish more than a
tolerable success. He looked sufficiently like a king, but he was ill
able to feel like one. He was cordially glad when the ceremony was
ended.
The larger part of his day was 'wasted'--as he termed it, in his own
mind--in labours pertaining to his royal office. Even the two hours
devoted to certain princely pastimes and recreations were rather a burden
to him than otherwise, they were so fettered by restrictions and
ceremonious observances. However, he had a private hour with his
whipping-boy which he counted clear gain, since he got both entertainment
and needful information out of it.
The third day of Tom Canty's kingship came and went much as the others
had done, but there was a lifting of his cloud in one way--he felt less
uncomfortable than at first; he was getting a little used to his
circumstances and surroundings; his chains still galled, but not all the
time; he found that the presence and homage of the great afflicted and
embarrassed him less and less sharply with every hour that drifted over
his head.
But for one single dread, he could have seen the fourth day approach
without serious distress--the dining in public; it was to begin that day.
There were greater matters in the programme--for on that day he would
have to preside at a council which would take his views and commands
concerning the policy to be pursued toward various foreign nations
scattered far and near over the great globe; on that day, too, Hertford
would be formally chosen to the grand office of Lord Protector; other
things of note were appointed for that fourth day, also; but to Tom they
were all insignificant compared with the ordeal of dining all by himself
with a multitude of curious eyes fastened upon him and a multitude of
mouths whispering comments upon his performance,--and upon his mistakes,
if he should be so unlucky as to make any.
Still, nothing could stop that fourth day, and so it came. It found poor
Tom low-spirited and absent-minded, and this mood continued; he could not
shake it off. The ordinary duties of the morning dragged upon his hands,
and wearied him. Once more he felt the sense of captivity heavy upon
him.
Late in the forenoon he was in a large audience-chamber, conversing with
the Earl of Hertford and dully awaiting the striking of the hour
appointed for a visit of ceremony from a considerable number of great
officials and courtiers.
After a little while, Tom, who had wandered to a window and become
interested in the life and movement of the great highway beyond the
palace gates--and not idly interested, but longing with all his heart to
take part in person in its stir and freedom--saw the van of a hooting and
shouting mob of disorderly men, women, and children of the lowest and
poorest degree approaching from up the road.
"I would I knew what 'tis about!" he exclaimed, with all a boy's
curiosity in such happenings.
"Thou art the King!" solemnly responded the Earl, with a reverence.
"Have I your Grace's leave to act?"
"O blithely, yes! O gladly, yes!" exclaimed Tom excitedly, adding to
himself with a lively sense of satisfaction, "In truth, being a king is
not all dreariness--it hath its compensations and conveniences."
The Earl called a page, and sent him to the captain of the guard with the
order--
"Let the mob be halted, and inquiry made concerning the occasion of its
movement. By the King's command!"
A few
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Transcriber's Note.
Apparent typographical errors have been corrected. The use of hyphens
has been rationalised.
Notices of other books in the series have been moved to the end of the
text.
Small capitals have been replaced by full capitals, italics are
indicated by _underscores_, and bold font is indicated by +plus signs+.
Two superscripts are indicated by carets, as "2^ndly" and "1001^12".
BELL'S ENGLISH HISTORY SOURCE BOOKS
_General Editors_: S. E. WINBOLT, M.A., and KENNETH BELL, M.A.
A CONSTITUTION IN
MAKING
(1660-1714)
COMPILED BY
G. B. PERRETT, M.A. LOND.
EMMANUEL COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE
[Illustration: Bell]
LONDON
G. BELL AND SONS, LTD.
1912
INTRODUCTION
THIS series of English History Source Books is intended for use with any
ordinary textbook of English History. Experience has conclusively shown
that such apparatus is a valuable--nay, an indispensable--adjunct to the
history lesson. It is capable of two main uses: either by way of lively
illustration at the close of a lesson, or by way of inference-drawing,
before the textbook is read, at the beginning of the lesson. The kind of
problems and exercises that may be based on the documents are legion,
and are admirably illustrated in a _History of England for Schools_,
Part I., by Keatinge and Frazer, pp. 377-381. However, we have no wish
to prescribe for the teacher the manner in which he shall exercise his
craft, but simply to provide him and his pupils with materials hitherto
not readily accessible for school purposes. The very moderate price of
the books in this series should bring them within the reach of every
secondary school. Source books enable the pupil to take a more active
part than hitherto in the history lesson. Here is the apparatus, the raw
material: its use we leave to teacher and taught.
Our belief is that the books may profitably be used by all grades of
historical students between the standards of fourth-form boys in
secondary schools and undergraduates at Universities. What differentiates
students at one extreme from those at the other is not so much the kind
of subject-matter dealt with, as the amount they can read into or
extract from it.
In regard to choice of subject-matter, while trying to satisfy the
natural demand for certain "stock" documents of vital importance, we
hope to introduce much fresh and novel matter. It is our intention that
the majority of the extracts should be lively in style--that is,
personal, or descriptive, or rhetorical, or even strongly partisan--and
should not so much profess to give the truth as supply data for
inference. We aim at the greatest possible variety, and lay under
contribution letters, biographies, ballads and poems, diaries, debates,
and newspaper accounts. Economics, London, municipal, and social life
generally, and local history, are represented in these pages.
The order of the extracts is strictly chronological, each being
numbered, titled, and dated, and its authority given. The text is
modernised, where necessary, to the extent of leaving no difficulties in
reading.
We shall be most grateful to teachers and students who may send us
suggestions for improvement.
S. E. WINBOLT.
KENNETH BELL.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION v
1660. DECLARATION OF BREDA _Parliamentary History_ 1
1660. THE RESTORATION _Clarendon's "History"_ 3
1662. THE ACT OF UNIFORMITY _Statutes of the Realm_ 11
1665. THE PLAGUE IN LONDON _Defoe's "Works"_ 14
1666. THE GREAT FIRE OF LONDON _Pepys's "Diary"_ 22
1668. THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE _Sir W. Temple's "Letters"_ 27
1672-73. THE DECLARATION OF INDULGENCE _Journals of the House of
AND TEST ACT Commons_ 30
1673. COFFEE HOUSES _Harleian Miscellany_ 34
1673. A PARLIAMENTARY ELECTION "_Lives of the Norths_" 38
1675. A BOGUS "KING'S SPEECH" "_Contemporary Satire_" 40
1679. HABEAS CORPUS ACT _Statutes of the Realm_ 43
1678-81. THE POPISH TERROR _Burnet's "Own Times"_ 47
1680. STAFFORD'S TRIAL _Evelyn's "Diary"_ 56
1681. CHARACTER OF SHAFTESBURY _Dryden's "Absalom and
Achit
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[Illustration: “TRIUMPHS AND WONDERS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.”
This picture explains and is symbolic of the most progressive one
hundred years in history. In the center stands the beautiful
female figure typifying Industry. To the right are the goddesses
of Music, Electricity, Literature and Art. Navigation is noted in
the anchor and chain leaning against the capstan; the Railroad,
in the rails and cross-ties; Machinery, in the cog-wheels,
steam governor, etc.; Labor, in the brawny smiths at the anvil;
Pottery, in the ornamented vase; Architecture, in the magnificent
Roman columns; Science, in the figure with quill in hand. In the
back of picture are suggestions of the progress and development
of our wonderful navy. Above all hovers the angel of Fame ready
to crown victorious Genius and Labor with the laurel wreaths of
Success.
]
TRIUMPHS AND WONDERS
OF THE
19TH CENTURY
THE
TRUE MIRROR OF A PHENOMENAL ERA
A VOLUME OF ORIGINAL, ENTERTAINING AND INSTRUCTIVE HISTORIC
AND DESCRIPTIVE WRITINGS, SHOWING THE MANY AND
MARVELLOUS ACHIEVEMENTS WHICH DISTINGUISH
AN HUNDRED YEARS
OF
Material, Intellectual, Social and Moral Progress
EMBRACING AS SUBJECTS ALL THOSE WHICH BEST TYPE THE GENIUS,
SPIRIT AND ENERGY OF THE AGE, AND SERVE TO BRING INTO
BRIGHTEST RELIEF THE GRAND MARCH OF IMPROVEMENT
IN THE VARIOUS DOMAINS OF
HUMAN ACTIVITY.
BY
JAMES P. BOYD, A.M., L.B.,
_Assisted by a Corps of Thirty-Two Eminent and Specially Qualified
Authors._
Copiously and Magnificently Illustrated.
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA
A. J. HOLMAN & CO.
COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY W. H. ISBISTER.
_All Rights Reserved._
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY W. H. ISBISTER.
INTRODUCTORY
Measuring epochs, or eras, by spaces of a hundred years each, that
which embraces the nineteenth century stands out in sublime and
encouraging contrast with any that has preceded it. As the legatee of
all prior centuries, it has enlarged and ennobled its bequest to an
extent unparalleled in history; while it has at the same time, through
a genius and energy peculiar to itself, created an original endowment
for its own enjoyment and for the future richer by far than any
heretofore recorded. Indeed, without permitting existing and pardonable
pride to endanger rigid truth, it may be said that along many of the
lines of invention and progress which have most intimately affected the
life and civilization of the world, the nineteenth century has achieved
triumphs and accomplished wonders equal, if not superior, to all other
centuries combined.
Therefore, what more fitting time than at its close to pass in
pleasing and instructive review the numerous material and intellectual
achievements that have so distinguished it, and have contributed in so
many and such marvelous ways to the great advance and genuine comfort
of the human race! Or, what could prove a greater source of pride and
profit than to compare its glorious works with those of the past, the
better to understand and measure the actual steps and real extent of
the progress of mankind! Or, what more delightful and inspiring than
to realize that the sum of those wonderful activities, of which each
reader is, or has been, a part, has gone to increase the grandeur of a
world era whose rays will penetrate and brighten the coming centuries!
Amid so many and such strong reasons this volume finds excellent cause
for its being. Its aims are to mirror a wonderful century from the
vantage ground of its closing year; to faithfully trace the lines which
mark its almost magical advance; to give it that high and true historic
place whence its contrasts with the past can be best noted, and its
light upon the future most directly thrown.
This task would be clearly beyond the power of a single mind. So rapid
has progress been during some parts of the century, so amazing have
been results along the lines of discovery and invention, so various
have been the fields of action, that only those of special knowledge
and training could be expected to do full justice to the many subjects
to be treated.
Hence, the work has been planned so as to give it a value far beyond
what could be imparted by a single mind. Each of the themes chosen
to type the century’s grand march has been treated by an author of
special fitness, and high up in his or her profession or calling, with
a view to securing for readers the best thoughts and facts relating to
the remarkable events of an hundred years. In this respect the volume
is unique and original. Its authorship is not of one mind, but of a
corps of minds, whose union assures what the occasion demands.
The scope, character, and value of the volume further appear in its
very large number and practical feature of subjects selected to show
the active forces, the upward and onward movements, and the grand
results that have operated within, and triumphantly crowned, an era
without parallel. These subjects embrace the sciences of the century
in their numerous divisions and conquests; its arts and literature;
industrial, commercial, and financial progress; land and sea prowess;
educational, social, moral, and religious growth; in fact, every field
of enterprise and achievement within the space of time covered by the
work.
A volume of such variety of subject and great extent affords fine
opportunity for illustration. The publishers have taken full advantage
of this, and have beautified it in a manner which commends itself to
every eye and taste. Rarely has a volume been so highly and elegantly
embellished. Each subject is illuminated so as to increase the pleasure
of reading and make an impression which will prove lasting.
As to its aim and scope, its number of specially qualified authors, its
vigor and variety of style and thought, its historic comprehensiveness
and exactness, its great wealth of illustration, its superb mechanism,
its various other striking features, the volume may readily rank as one
of the century’s triumphs, a wonder of industrious preparation, and
acceptable to all. At any rate, no such volume has ever mirrored any
previous century, and none will come to reflect the nineteenth century
with truer line and color.
Not only is the work a rare and costly picture, filled in with
inspiring details by master hands, but it is equally a monument, whose
solid base, grand proportions, and elegant finish are in keeping with
the spirit of the era it marks and the results it honors. Its every
inscription is a glowing tribute to human achievement of whatever kind
and wherever the field of action may lie, and therefore a happy means
of conveying to twentieth century actors the story of a time whose
glories they will find it hard to excel. May this picture and monument
be viewed, studied, and admired by all, so that the momentous chapters
which round the history of a closing century shall avail in shaping the
beginnings of a succeeding one.
AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS
JAMES P. BOYD, A. M., L. B.,
WONDERS OF ELECTRICITY.
REAR-ADMIRAL GEORGE WALLACE MELVILLE,
_Chief of Bureau of Steam Engineering, Navy Department,
Washington, D. C._
THE CENTURY’S NA
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THE IMMORTAL MOMENT
Books by
MAY SINCLAIR
The Helpmate
The Divine Fire
Two Sides of a Question
Mr. and Mrs. Nevill Tyson
Etc., etc.
[Illustration: "Kitty's face... pleaded with the other face in the
glass."]
THE IMMORTAL MOMENT
The Story of Kitty Tailleur
_By_
MAY SINCLAIR
ILLUSTRATED AND DECORATED BY
C. COLES PHILLIPS.
NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY PAGE & CO.
1908
COPYRIGHT, 1908 BY
MAY SINCLAIR
PUBLISHED, OCTOBER, 1908
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING
THE SCANDINAVIAN
PUBLISHERS' NOTE
THIS STORY APPEARS IN ENGLAND
UNDER THE TITLE "KITTY TAILLEUR"
ILLUSTRATIONS
"Kitty's face... pleaded with the other face
in the glass" FRONTISPIECE
"She stood there, strangely still... before the
pitiless stare that went up to her appealing face" 10
"'You won't be tied to me a minute longer than
you like'" 208
"'I want to make you loathe me... never see me
again'" 268
[Illustration: THE IMMORTAL MOMENT]
THE IMMORTAL MOMENT
CHAPTER I
They came into the hotel dining-room like young persons making their
first entry into life. They carried themselves with an air of subdued
audacity, of innocent inquiry. When the great doors opened to them they
stood still on the threshold, charmed, expectant. There was the magic of
quest, of pure, unspoiled adventure in their very efforts to catch the
head-waiter's eye. It was as if they called from its fantastic
dwelling-place the attendant spirit of delight.
You could never have guessed how old they were. He, at thirty-five, had
preserved, by some miracle, his alert and slender adolescence. In his
brown, clean-shaven face, keen with pleasure, you saw the clear,
serious eyes and the adorable smile of seventeen. She, at thirty, had
kept the wide eyes and tender mouth of childhood. Her face had a child's
immortal, spiritual appeal.
They were charming with each other. You might have taken them for bride
and bridegroom, his absorption in her was so unimpaired. But their names
in the visitors' book stood as Mr. Robert Lucy and Miss Jane Lucy. They
were brother and sister. You gathered it from something absurdly alike
in their faces, something profound and racial and enduring.
For they combined it all, the youth, the abandonment, the innocence,
with an indomitable distinction.
They made their way with easy, unembarrassed movements, and seated
themselves at a table by an open window. They bent their brows together
over the menu. The head-waiter (who had flown at last to their high
summons) made them his peculiar care, and they turned to him with the
helplessness of children. He told them what things they would like,
what things (he seemed to say) would be good for them. And when he went
away with their order they looked at each other and laughed, softly and
instantaneously.
They had done the right thing. They both said it at the same moment,
smiling triumphantly into each other's face. Southbourne was exquisite
in young June, at the dawn of its season. And the Cliff Hotel promised
what they wanted, a gay seclusion, a refined publicity.
If you were grossly rich, you went to the
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SCHILLER'S PHILOSOPHICAL LETTERS.
By Frederich Schiller
CONTENTS:
PREFATORY REMARKS
THEOSOPHY OF JULIUS
ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE ANIMAL AND THE SPIRITUAL NATURE IN MAN
PHYSICAL CONNECTION
PHILOSOPHICAL CONNECTION
PREFATORY REMARKS.
The reason passes, like the heart, through certain epochs and
transitions, but its development is not so often portrayed. Men seem to
have been satisfied with unfolding the passions in their extremes, their
aberration, and their results, without considering how closely they are
bound up with the intellectual constitution of the individual.
Degeneracy in morals roots in a one-sided and wavering philosophy, doubly
dangerous, because it blinds the beclouded intellect with an appearance
of correctness, truth, and conviction, which places it less under the
restraining influence of man's instinctive moral sense. On the other
hand, an enlightened understanding ennobles the feelings,--the heart must
be formed by the head.
The present age has witnessed an extraordinary increase of a thinking
public, by the facilities afforded to the diffusion of reading; the
former happy resignation to ignorance begins to make way for a state of
half-enlightenment, and few persons are willing to remain in the
condition in which their birth has placed then. Under these
circumstances it may not be unprofitable to call attention to certain
periods of the awakening and progress of the reason, to place in their
proper light certain truths and errors, closely connected with morals,
and calculated to be a source of happiness or misery, and, at all events,
to point out the hidden shoals on which the reason of man has so often
suffered shipwreck. Rarely do we
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from the Google Print project.)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
UNDER THE PRESSURE OF BOTH WIND AND CLAW-WHEEL,
SHE HIT ONLY THE HIGH PLACES.
_Speedwell Boys and Their Ice Racer. Page_ 199
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Speedwell Boys
and Their Ice Racer
Or
Lost in the Great Blizzard
BY
ROY ROCKWOOD
AUTHOR OF “THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTORCYCLES,” “THE
DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES,” “THE GREAT
MARVEL SERIES,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOKS FOR BOYS
BY ROY ROCKWOOD
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTORCYCLES
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR POWER LAUNCH
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS IN A SUBMARINE
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR ICE RACER
DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
DAVE DASHAWAY THE YOUNG AVIATOR
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDRO-PLANE
DAVE DASHAWAY AROUND THE WORLD
DAVE DASHAWAY, AIR CHAMPION
THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE
UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE
FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND
THROUGH SPACE TO MARS
LOST ON THE MOON
ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD
CUPPLES & LEON. CO., PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
-------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1915, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
---------------------
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR ICE RACER
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ON THE ROAD AND ON THE ICE 1
II. A BIG IDEA 11
III. MORE THAN ONE MYSTERY 21
IV. THE “FLY-UP-THE-CREEK” 30
V. WINGED STEEL 38
VI. GETTING INTO TRIM 46
VII. OUT ON THE ROAD 55
VIII. THE PLANS 64
IX. THE BOY WHO COULDN’T TALK 70
X. COASTING 79
XI. A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH 88
XII. THE “FOLLOW ME” 96
XIII. THE STRANGER 101
XIV. GATHERING TROUBLE 109
XV. ON ISLAND NUMBER ONE 117
XVI. THE UNEXPECTED 127
XVII. IN THE DEN 137
XVIII. AN EVENING DRIVE 144
XIX. LOST IN THE BLIZZARD 152
XX. “NEVER SAY DIE!” 161
XXI. THE CRY FOR HELP 169
XXII. THE BATTLE IN THE SNOW 174
XXIII. DUMMY “GETS IN GOOD” 181
XXIV. “IT’S A RINGER!” 190
XXV. BEATING THE “STREAK O’ LIGHT” 197
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS
AND THEIR ICE RACER
CHAPTER I
ON THE ROAD AND ON THE ICE
“Crickey! this is some snow, Dan. Never saw it come so fast in my life,”
declared Billy Speedwell earnestly, as his brother rolled the heavy cans
of milk out of the cooling room at Fifield’s.
Their new motor-truck, in which the boys picked up the milk from the
various dairies under contract to Mr. Speedwell, stood near. One at a
time the brothers lifted the heavy cans and tossed them into the wagon.
“You’ll likely see a lot more snow before _this_ winter’s over, Billy,”
grunted the older lad, as the last can was placed.
“If it gets deep in the roads we may have to go back to using Bob and
Betty and the old delivery wagons.”
“Not much!” exclaimed Dan, with confidence. “We’ve got seventy horses in
this old engine; that ought to push her through the drifts.”
“We’ll have to put the chains on her tires before we start out to-morrow
morning—unless I miss my guess. This is going to be some snow
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E-text prepared by Mary Glenn Krause, Martin Pettit, and the Online
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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 58369-h.htm or 58369-h.zip:
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Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/tuenslaveempress00nelsrich
TUEN, SLAVE AND EMPRESS
by
KATHLEEN GRAY NELSON
Illustrations by William M. Cary
[Illustration: TUEN AT WORK ON THE TUNIC.--_Page 65_]
New York
Copyright by
E. P. Dutton & Company
31 West Twenty-Third Street
1898
[Illustration: _Frontispiece._ THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT. Page 190.]
PREFACE.
This story is founded upon facts in the life of the Empress-dowager of
China, the mother of the present Emperor.
She was sold as a slave by her father to a renowned government
official, who after a few years adopted her as his daughter, and
afterwards presented her to the Emperor.
The Emperor was altogether charmed with the gift. In a few years the
slave girl became the wife of the Emperor, second in rank only to the
Empress. From this time she was a power at the Imperial Court. Her
administrative ability in governmental affairs became invaluable to the
Emperor.
After the death of the Empress, and the death of the Emperor and eldest
son, she became Empress-dowager of China, and reigned as regent during
the minority of her son, who is the present Emperor of China, now about
twenty-four years of age.
Bishop Galloway tells us this wonderful woman's sixtieth birthday,
celebrated last year, "was to have been the greatest event in Chinese
history for a century or more." The war, however, prevented this
display. He says, too: "It is significant that in this country, in which
women are at a discount, are secluded and kept in ignorance, are
protested against at birth, and regarded as a calamity in youth, the
ruling spirit in all national affairs is a woman."
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
NIU TSANG AND FAMILY 2
THE VICEROY AND NIU TSANG 24
TUEN AND WANG 43
TUEN AT WORK ON THE TUNIC (_on title-page_) 65
"I WOULD LIKE TO LEARN TO READ" 78
THE SAIL UP THE RIVER 159
THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT (_frontispiece_) 190
TUEN, SLAVE AND EMPRESS.
CHAPTER I.
The sun had set in the land where the dragon reigns, and darkness and
silence and rest and sleep, the ministers of the night, waited to come
to their own. But their presence was not needed in the eastern portion
of the province of Hunan, for a wonderful stillness hung over all the
barren landscape, and there was no sign of life. On the banks of the
streams the patient buffalo no longer went his ceaseless rounds, working
the pumps that sent water over the thirsty earth; the shrill cries of
the boatmen that were wont to echo on the river were hushed; not even a
bird crossed the quiet sky; and where the waving rice-fields had once
stretched out proud and green under the summer sun, was now but a lonely
waste that gave no hope of harvest, for man and beast had either
perished or fled. The great Tai-ping rebellion had stirred this peaceful
country to its very centre, and war and war's grim follower, famine, had
swept through this once fertile province, and naught was left to tell of
what had been, save a few scattered ruins.
[Illustration: NIU TSANG AND FAMILY. Page 2.]
Suddenly, against the purplish shadows of the distant mountains, a
little group could be seen moving slowly along, the only living things
in all this vast solitude. On they came over the parched levels, but the
man who was leading the way walked with bowed head, as one that saw not,
but only went forward because he must. He was small in stature, and thin
and lithe, while his complexion showed through its dark, the pallor of
the student. His face was of the Oriental type peculiar to the Chinese
Empire, and his carefully braided cue also indicated his nationality. He
had dark, sloping eyes that you might have thought sleepy if you had not
seen them light up as he talked, his forehead was low and broad, his
mouth large, and most amiable in its expression, and when the long
sleeves of his tunic fell back, they disclosed soft, delicate hands,
unused to toil. His costume consisted of an outer tunic of worn and
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THE SILVER LINING
_A GUERNSEY STORY._
BY
JOHN ROUSSEL.
Guernsey:
FREDERICK BLONDEL GUERIN,
"THE SUN" OFFICE, HIGH STREET.
1894.
INDEX.
CHAPTER I.--THE RESULTS OF DISOBEDIENCE 3
II.--A LITTLE GIRL'S CHANGE OF LIFE 15
III.--THE BOARDING SCHOOL 24
IV.--THE INFLUENCES OF A GOOD HOME 33
V.--THE REWARD OF INORDINATE AMBITION 45
VI.--NEW ACQUAINTANCES 54
VII.--AN ABRUPT DISMISSAL 62
VIII.--AN UNPLEASANT VISIT 72
IX.--DECEPTIONS 79
X.--'TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY 84
XI.--BUSINESS 91
XII.--A STRANGE MEETING 96
XIII.--SUPERSTITION 102
XIV.--FAILURE 107
XV.--DARK DAYS 115
XVI.--SHADOW AND SUNSHINE 125
XVII.--THE EFFECTS OF A SERMON 130
XVIII.--SUCCESS AFTER SUCCESS 135
XIX.--TOM'S INTERVIEW WITH MRS. VIDOUX 143
XX.--TOM'S VISIT TO HIS UNCLE 148
XXI.--THE ENCOUNTER 153
XXII.--FATHER AND DAUGHTER 159
XXIII.--A SECRET CORRESPONDENCE 163
XXIV.--MR. ROUGEANT GOES TO CHURCH 169
XXV.--LOVE TRIUMPHS 173
XXVI.--WEDDED 183
XXVII.--RECONCILIATION 189
XXVIII.--A SAD END OF A MISPENT LIFE 197
XXIX.--DOMESTIC HAPPINESS 205
THE SILVER LINING.
A GUERNSEY STORY.
CHAPTER I.
THE RESULTS OF DISOBEDIENCE.
One fine summer afternoon--it was the month of June--the sea was
calm, the air was still, and the sun was warm.
The mackerel boats from Cobo (a bay in the island of Guernsey) were
setting sail; an old woman was detaching limpets from the rocks, and
slowly, but steadily, filling up her basket. On the west side of the
bay, two air-starved Londoners were sitting on the sand, basking in
the sunshine, determined to return home, if not invigorated, at
least bronzed by the sea air. On the east side, a few little boys
were bathing. A middle-aged man, engaged in searching for sand-eels,
completed the picture.
A little boy, who might have been nine years of age, was standing in
the road gazing upon this scene. The way in which he was clothed,
betokened that he was not one of the lads that lived in the vicinity
of that bay. He was dressed in a well-fitting knickerbocker suit,
and his polished boots, his well combed hair, denoted that he was an
object of especial care at home. He possessed a very intelligent
air, a fine forehead, rather large eyes which were full of
expression, and his frowning look, the way in which he stamped his
little foot, denoted that he was of an impulsive temperament. This
little fellow had some very good ideas. He had determined to be
good, and unselfish; and he tried to learn as much as he possibly
could. His mother had told him that later on this would help him in
life.
Once, an inquisitive pedlar, noticing his intelligence, and his
garrulous disposition, asked him jokingly if he ever intended to
marry. Upon which Frank Mathers (this was the boy's name) assumed a
serious air, and giving his head a little toss he answered, "I do
not know yet, there are so many beautiful little girls everywhere,
one does not know which one to choose."
A physiognomist might easily have seen that in this little boy's
soul a struggle was going on. "Shall I go?" he was saying to
himself; "shall I go and amuse myself?" His conscience had a great
power over him; but the beautiful sea was tempting, each wave as it
fell produced a sound which was sweeter to his ears than the
sweetest music.
"Your mother has forbidden you to go;" said his conscience; "you
must obey her."
He continued to remain undecided between pleasure and duty, the
strife going on meanwhile within him. All
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_.
Footnotes have been moved to follow the paragraphs in which they are
referenced.
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 any textual issues encountered during its preparation.
[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON WHITEHAVEN.]
THE LIFE
OF
REAR ADMIRAL JOHN PAUL JONES.
BY
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK:
DODD & MEAD, PUBLISHERS,
762 BROADWAY.
_AMERICAN PIONEERS AND PATRIOTS._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF
REAR-ADMIRAL JOHN PAUL JONES,
COMMONLY CALLED
PAUL JONES.
BY
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
------------------
ILLUSTRATED.
------------------
NEW YORK:
DODD & MEAD, PUBLISHERS,
762 BROADWAY.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
DODD & MEAD,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
TO
THE OFFICERS AND SEAMEN OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY,
THIS VOLUME,
COMMEMORATIVE OF THE HEROIC ACHIEVEMENTS OF ONE OF THE MOST
ILLUSTR
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THE
AMERICAN REPUBLIC:
ITS
CONSTITUTION, TENDENCIES, AND DESTINY.
BY
O. A. BROWNSON, LL. D.
NEW YORK:
P. O'SHEA, 104 BLEECKER STREET.
1866.
Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1865, By P. O'SHEA,
In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
TO THE
HON. GEORGE BANCROFT,
THE ERUDITE, PHILOSOPHICAL, AND ELOQUENT
Historian of the United States,
THIS FEEBLE ATTEMPT TO SET FORTH THE PRINCIPLES OF
GOVERNMENT, AND TO EXPLAIN AND DEFEND THE CONSTITUTION OF
THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC, IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,
IN MEMORY OF OLD FRIENDSHIP, AND AS A
SLIGHT HOMAGE TO GENIUS, ABILITY,
PATRIOTISM, PRIVATE WORTH,
AND PUBLIC SERVICE,
BY THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION 1
CHAPTER II.
GOVERNMENT 15
CHAPTER III.
ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT 26
CHAPTER IV.
ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT--Continued 43
CHAPTER V.
ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT--Continued 71
CHAPTER VI.
ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT--Concluded 106
CHAPTER VII.
CONSTITUTION OF GOVERNMENT 136
CHAPTER VIII.
CONSTITUTION OF GOVERNMENT--Concluded 166
CHAPTER IX.
THE UNITED STATES 192
CHAPTER X.
CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES 218
CHAPTER XI.
THE CONSTITUTION--Continued 244
CHAPTER XII.
SECESSION 277
CHAPTER XIII.
RECONSTRUCTION 309
CHAPTER XIV.
POLITICAL TENDENCIES 348
CHAPTER XV.
DESTINY--POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS 392
PREFACE.
In the volume which, with much diffidence, is here offered to the
public, I have given, as far as I have considered it worth giving, my
whole thought in a connected form on the nature, necessity, extent,
authority, origin, ground, and constitution of government, and the
unity, nationality, constitution, tendencies, and destiny of the
American Republic. Many of the points treated have been from time to
time discussed or touched upon, and many of the views have been
presented, in my previous writings; but this work is newly and
independently written from beginning to end, and is as complete on the
topics treated as I have been able to make it.
I have taken nothing bodily from my previous essays, but I have used
their thoughts as far as I have judged them sound and they came within
the scope of my present work. I have not felt myself bound to adhere
to my own past thoughts or expressions any farther than they coincide
with my present convictions, and I have written as freely and as
independently as if I had never written or published any thing before.
I have never been the slave of my own past, and truth has always been
dearer to me than my own opinions. This work is not only my latest,
but will be my last on politics or government, and must be taken as the
authentic, and the only authentic statement of my political views and
convictions, and whatever in any of my previous writings conflicts with
the principles defended in its pages, must be regarded as retracted,
and rejected.
The work now produced is based on scientific principles; but it is an
essay rather than a scientific treatise, and even good-natured critics
will, no doubt, pronounce it an article or a series of articles
designed for a review, rather than a book. It is hard to overcome the
habits of a lifetime. I have taken some pains to exchange the reviewer
for the author, but am fully conscious that I have not succeeded. My
work can lay claim to very little artistic merit. It is full of
repetitions; the same thought is frequently recurring,--the result, to
some extent, no doubt, of carelessness and the want of artistic skill;
but to a greater extent, I fear, of "malice aforethought." In
composing my work I have followed, rather than directed, the course of
my thought, and, having very little confidence in the memory or
industry of readers, I have preferred, when the completeness of the
argument required it, to repeat myself to encumbering my pages with
perpetual references to what has gone before.
That I attach some value to this work is evident from my consenting to
its publication; but how much or how little of it is really mine, I am
quite unable to say. I have, from my youth up, been reading,
observing, thinking, reflecting, talking, I had almost said writing, at
least by fits and starts, on political subjects, especially in their
connection with philosophy, theology, history, and social progress, and
have assimilated to my own mind what it would assimilate, without
keeping any notes of the sources whence the materials assimilated were
derived. I have written freely from my own mind as I find it now
formed; but how it has been so formed, or whence I have borrowed, my
readers know as well as I. All that is valuable in the thoughts set
forth, it is safe to assume has been appropriated from others. Where I
have been distinctly conscious of borrowing what has not become common
property, I have given credit, or, at least, mentioned the author's
name, with three important exceptions which I wish to note more
formally.
I am principally indebted for the view of the American nationality and
the Federal Constitution I present, to hints and suggestions furnished
by the remarkable work of John C. Hurd, Esq., on The Law of Freedom and
Bondage in the United States, a work of rare learning and profound
philosophic views. I could not have written my work without the aid
derived from its suggestions, any more than I could without Plato,
Aristotle, St. Augustine, St. Thomas, Suarez, Pierre Leroux, and the
Abbate Gioberti. To these two last-named authors, one a humanitarian
sophist, the other a Catholic priest, and certainly one of the
profoundest philosophical writers of this century, I am much indebted,
though I have followed the political system of neither. I have taken
from Leroux the germs of the doctrine I set forth on the solidarity of
the race, and from Gioberti the doctrine I defend in relation to the
creative act, which is, after all, simply that of the Credo and the
first verse of Genesis.
In treating the several questions which the preparation of this volume
has brought up, in their connection, and in the light of first
principles, I have changed or modified, on more than one important
point, the views I had expressed in my previous writings, especially on
the distinction between civilized and barbaric nations, the real basis
of civilization itself, and the value to the world of the Graeco-Roman
civilization. I have ranked feudalism under the head of barbarism,
rejected every species of political aristocracy, and represented the
English constitution as essentially antagonistic to the American, not
as its type. I have accepted universal suffrage in principle, and
defended American democracy, which I define to be territorial
democracy, and carefully distinguish from pure individualism on the one
hand, and from pure socialism or humanitarianism on the other.
I reject the doctrine of State sovereignty, which I held and defended
from 1828 to 1861, but still maintain that the sovereignty of the
American Republic vests in the States, though in the States
collectively, or united, not severally, and thus escape alike
consolidation and disintegration. I find, with Mr. Madison, our most
philosophic statesman, the originality of the American system in the
division of powers between a General government having sole charge of
the foreign and general, and particular or State governments having,
within their respective territories, sole charge of the particular
relations and interests of the American people; but I do not accept his
concession that this division is of conventional origin, and maintain
that it enters into the original Providential constitution of the
American state, as I have done in my Review for October, 1863, and
January and October, 1864.
I maintain, after Mr. Senator Sumner, one of the most philosophic and
accomplished living American statesmen, that "State secession is State
suicide," but modify the opinion I too hastily expressed that the
political death of a State dissolves civil society within its territory
and abrogates all rights held under it, and accept the doctrine that
the laws in force at the time of secession remain in force till
superseded or abrogated by competent authority, and also that, till the
State is revived and restored as a State in the Union, the only
authority, under the American system, competent to supersede or
abrogate them is the United States, not Congress, far less the
Executive. The error of the Government is not in recognizing the
territorial laws as surviving secession but in counting a State that
has seceded as still a State in the Union, with the right to be counted
as one of the United States in amending the Constitution. Such State
goes out of the Union, but comes under it.
I have endeavored throughout to refer my particular political views; to
their general principles, and to show that the general principles
asserted have their origin and ground in the great, universal, and
unchanging principles of the universe itself. Hence, I have labored to
show the scientific relations of political to theological principles,
the real principles of all science, as of all reality. An atheist, I
have said, may be a politician; but if there were no God, there could
be no politics. This may offend the sciolists of the age, but I must
follow science where it leads, and cannot be arrested by those who
mistake their darkness for light.
I write throughout as a Christian, because I am a Christian; as a
Catholic, because all Christian principles, nay, all real principles
are catholic, and there is nothing sectarian either in nature or
revelation. I am a Catholic by God's grace and great goodness, and
must write as I am. I could not write otherwise if I would, and would
not if I could. I have not obtruded my religion, and have referred to
it only where my argument demanded it; but I have had neither the
weakness nor the bad taste to seek to conceal or disguise it. I could
never have written my book without the knowledge I have, as a Catholic,
of Catholic theology, and my acquaintance, slight as it is, with the
great fathers and doctors of the church, the great masters of all that
is solid or permanent in modern thought, either with Catholics or
non-Catholics.
Moreover, though I write for all Americans, without distinction of sect
or party, I have had more especially in view the people of my own
religious communion. It is no discredit to a man in the United States
at the present day to be a firm, sincere, and devout Catholic. The old
sectarian prejudice may remain with a few, "whose eyes," as Emerson
says, "are in their hind-head, not in their fore-head;" but the
American people are not at heart sectarian, and the nothingarianism so
prevalent among them only marks their state of transition from
sectarian opinions to positive Catholic faith. At any rate, it can no
longer be denied that Catholics are an integral, living, and growing
element in the American population, quite too numerous, too wealthy,
and too influential to be ignored. They have played too conspicuous a
part in the late troubles of the country, and poured out too freely and
too much of their richest and noblest blood in defence of the unity of
the nation and the integrity of its domain, for that. Catholics
henceforth must be treated as standing, in all respects, on a footing
of equality with any other class of American citizens, and their views
of political science, or of any other science, be counted of equal
importance, and listened to with equal attention.
I have no fears that my book will be neglected because avowedly by a
Catholic author, and from a Catholic publishing house. They who are
not Catholics will read it, and it will enter into the current of
American literature, if it is one they must read in order to be up with
the living and growing thought of the age. If it is not a book of that
sort, it is not worth reading by any one.
Furthermore, I am ambitious, even in my old age, and I wish to exert an
influence on the future of my country, for which I have made, or,
rather, my family have made, some sacrifices, and which I tenderly
love. Now, I believe that he who can exert the most influence on our
Catholic population, especially in giving tone and direction to our
Catholic youth, will exert the most influence in forming the character
and shaping the future destiny of the American Republic. Ambition and
patriotism alike, as well as my own Catholic faith and sympathies,
induce me to address myself primarily to Catholics. I quarrel with
none of the sects; I honor virtue wherever I see it, and accept truth
wherever I find it; but, in my belief, no sect is destined to a long
life, or a permanent possession. I engage in no controversy with any
one not of my religion, for, if the positive, affirmative truth is
brought out and placed in a clear light before the public, whatever is
sectarian in any of the sects will disappear as the morning mists
before the rising sun.
I expect the most intelligent and satisfactory appreciation of my book
from the thinking and educated classes among Catholics; but I speak to
my countrymen at large. I could not personally serve my country in the
field: my habits as well as my infirmities prevented, to say nothing of
my age; but I have endeavored in this humble work to add my
contribution, small though it may be, to political science, and to
discharge, as far as I am able, my debt of loyalty and patriotism. I
would the book were more of a book, more worthy of my countrymen, and a
more weighty proof of the love I beat them, and with which I have
written it. All I can say is, that it is an honest book, a sincere
book, and contains my best thoughts on the subjects treated. If well
received, I shall be grateful; if neglected, I shall endeavor to
practise resignation, as I have so often done.
O. A. BROWNSON.
ELIZABETH, N. J., September 16, 1865.
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
The ancients summed up the whole of human wisdom in the maxim, Know
Thyself, and certainly there is for an individual no more important as
there is no more difficult knowledge, than knowledge of himself, whence
he comes, whither he goes, what he is, what he is for, what he can do,
what he ought to do, and what are his means of doing it.
Nations are only individuals on a larger scale. They have a life, an
individuality, a reason, a conscience, and instincts of their own, and
have the same general laws of development and growth, and, perhaps, of
decay, as the individual man. Equally important, and no less difficult
than for the individual, is it for a nation to know itself, understand
its own existence, its own powers and faculties, rights and duties,
constitution, instincts, tendencies, and destiny. A nation has a
spiritual as well as a material, a moral as well as a physical
existence, and is subjected to internal as well as external conditions
of health and virtue, greatness and grandeur, which it must in some
measure understand and observe, or become weak and infirm, stunted in
its growth, and end in premature decay and death.
Among nations, no one has more need of full knowledge of itself than
the United States, and no one has hitherto had less. It has hardly had
a distinct consciousness of its own national existence, and has lived
the irreflective life of the child, with no severe trial, till the
recent rebellion, to throw it back on itself and compel it to reflect
on its own constitution, its own separate existence, individuality,
tendencies, and end. The defection of the slaveholding States, and the
fearful struggle that has followed for national unity and integrity,
have brought it at once to a distinct recognition of itself, and forced
it to pass from thoughtless, careless, heedless, reckless adolescence
to grave and reflecting manhood. The nation has been suddenly
compelled to study itself, and henceforth must act from reflection,
understanding, science, statesmanship, not from instinct, impulse,
passion, or caprice, knowing well what it does, and wherefore it does
it. The change which four years of civil war have wrought in the
nation is great, and is sure to give it the seriousness, the gravity,
the dignity, the manliness it has heretofore lacked.
Though the nation has been brought to a consciousness of its own
existence, it has not, even yet, attained to a full and clear
understanding of its own national constitution. Its vision is still
obscured by the floating mists of its earlier morning, and its judgment
rendered indistinct and indecisive by the wild theories and fancies of
its childhood. The national mind has been quickened, the national
heart has been opened, the national disposition prepared, but there
remains the important work of dissipating the mists that still linger,
of brushing away these wild theories and fancies, and of enabling it to
form a clear and intelligent judgment of itself, and a true and just
appreciation of its own constitution tendencies,--and destiny; or, in
other words, of enabling the nation to understand its own idea, and the
means of its actualization in space and time.
Every living nation has an idea given it by Providence to realize, and
whose realization is its special work, mission, or destiny. Every
nation is, in some sense, a chosen people of
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STORY***
E-text prepared by Linda Cantoni, Bryan Ness, Emmy, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 37510-h.htm or 37510-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37510/37510-h/37510-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37510/37510-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/bytrenchtrailins00mackuoft
[Illustration]
BY TRENCH AND TRAIL IN SONG AND STORY
by
ANGUS MACKAY (Oscar Dhu)
Author of
"Donald Morrison--The Canadian Outlaw"
"A Tale of the Pioneers"
"Poems of a Politician"
"Pioneer Sketches"
Etc., Etc.
Illustrated
Mackay Printing & Publishing Co.
Seattle and Vancouver
1918
Copyright 1918 by
Angus MacKay
INTRODUCTION.
A number of the songs in this collection have been heard by campfire and
trail from the camps of British Columbia to the lumber camps of Maine.
Several of the songs have been fired at the Huns "somewhere in France,"
no doubt with deadly effect. And also at the Turks on the long long hike
to Bagdad and beyond.
And it is not impossible that some of my countrymen are now warbling
snatches of my humble verse to the accompaniment of bagpipes on the
streets of the New Jerusalem! Many of the verses have appeared from time
to time in leading publications from Vancouver, B. C., to the New
England States and Eastern Canada; while others appear in print here for
the first time.
From all parts of the land I have received letters at various times
asking for extra copies of some particular song in my humble collection,
which I was not in a position to supply at the time.
I therefore decided to publish some of the songs for which a demand had
been expressed, and in so doing offer to the reading public in
extenuation of my offense the plea that in a manner this humble volume
is being published by request.
I offer no apology for my "dialect" songs as they have already received
the approval of music lovers whose judgment is beyond criticism.
For the errors which must inevitably creep into the work of a
non-college-bred lumberjack, I crave the indulgence of all highbrows who
may resent my inability to comb the classics for copy to please them.
All the merit I can claim is the ability to rhyme a limerick or sing a
"come-all-ye" in a manner perhaps not unpleasing to my friends.
The lumberjacks will understand me, I am sure, and will appreciate my
humble efforts to entertain them.
As for the genial highbrow, should he deem me an interloper in the realm
of letters and imagine that my wild, uncultured notes are destroying the
harmony of his supersensitive soul, I shall "lope" back to the tall
timber again and seek sympathy and appreciation among the lumberjacks of
the forest primeval, where, amid the wild surroundings and the crooning
of the trees, there is health for mind and body borne on every passing
breeze. Yes, there's something strangely healing in the magic of the
myrrh, in the odor of the cedar and the fragrance of the fir.
There the hardy lumberjack is the undisputed lord of the lowlands and
chief of the highlands, and at the present time no soldier in the
trenches or sailor on the rolling deep has a more arduous task to
perform or a more important duty to discharge than he.
Toil on, ye Titans of the tall timbers; steadfast soldiers of the saw,
and able allies of the axe. Carry on till the stately trees which
constitute the glory of the West are converted into ships and planes in
countless thousands, to win the great war for freedom and to make the
world safe for democracy--and lumberjacks!
THE AUTHOR.
ILLUSTRATIONS
Frontispiece
"Where the tall, majestic pine tree branches wave" 124
"Christmas in Quebec" 14
"Gagne's Cavalry" 52
"Sergeant-Major Larry" 76
"I am now one lumberjack" 110
"Another Findlay like your own" 141
_Illustrations by
Lieutenant William R. McKay
with 161st U.S.A. in France_
CONTENTS
DESTINY 11
There's a grand, grand view unfolding.
THE SONS OF OUR MOTHERS 12
In the Ramah's of our day.
CHRISTMAS IN QUEBEC 15
I got notice sometam lately.
THE CLEVELAND MESSAGE
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Produced by David Thomas
[IMAGE: img000.jpg The Tsar Nicholas II]
THE ROMANCE
_of the_
ROMANOFFS
BY
JOSEPH McCABE
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1917
Copyright, 1917,
By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. Inc.
PREFACE
THE history of Russia has attracted many writers and inspired many
volumes during the last twenty years, yet its most romantic and most
interesting feature has not been fully appreciated.
Thirteen years ago, when the long struggle of the Russian democrats
culminated in a bloody revolution, I had occasion to translate into
English an essay written by a learned professor who belonged to what was
called “the Russophile School.” It was a silken apology for murder. The
Russian soul, the writer said, was oriental, not western. The true line
of separation of east and west was, not the great ridge of mountains
which raised its inert barrier from the Caspian Sea to the frozen ocean,
but the western limit of the land of the Slavs. In their character the
Slavs were an eastern race, fitted only for autocratic rule, indifferent
to those ideas of democracy and progress which stirred to its muddy
depths the life of western Europe. They loved the “Little Father.” They
clung, with all the fervour of their mild and peaceful souls, to their
old-world Church. They had the placid wisdom of the east, the health
that came of living close to mother-earth, the tranquillity of
ignorance. Was not the Tsar justified in protecting his people from the
feverish illusions which agitated western Europe and America?
Thus, in very graceful and impressive language, wrote the “sound”
professors, the clients of the aristocracy, the more learned of the
silk-draped priests. The Russia which they interpreted to us, the Russia
of the boundless horizon, could not read their works. It was almost
wholly illiterate. It could not belie them. Indeed, if one could have
interrogated some earth-bound peasant among those hundred and twenty
millions, he would have heard with dull astonishment that he had _any_
philosophy of life. His cattle lived by instinct: _his_ path was traced by
the priest and the official.
But the American onlooker found one fatal defect in the Russophile
theory. These agents of the autocracy contended that the soul of Russia
rejected western ideas; yet they were spending millions of roubles every
year, they were destroying hundreds of fine-minded men and women every
year, they were packing the large jails of Russia until they reeked with
typhus and other deadly maladies, in an effort to keep those ideas away
from the Russian soul. While Russophile professors were penning their
plausible theories of the Russian character, the autocracy which they
defended was being shaken by as brave and grim a revolution as
any that has upset thrones in modern Europe. Moscow, the shrine of this
supposed beautiful docility, was red with the blood of its children. In
the jails and police-cells of Russia about 200,000 men and women, boys
and girls, quivered under the lash or sank upon fever-beds, and almost
as many more dragged out a living death in the melancholy wastes of
Siberia. They wanted democracy and progress; and their introduction of
those ideas to the peasantry had awakened so ready and fervent a
response that it had been necessary to seal their lips with blood.
We looked back along the history of Russia, and we found that the
struggle was nearly a century old. The ghastly route to Siberia had been
opened eighty years before. Russia had felt the revolutionary wave which
swept over Europe during the thirties of the nineteenth century, and the
Tsar of those days had fought not less savagely than the rulers of
Austria, Spain, and Portugal for his autocracy. Every democratic advance
that has since been won in western Europe has provoked a corresponding
effort to advance in Russia, and that effort has always been truculently
suppressed. Nearly every other country in Europe has had the courage to
educate its people and enable them to study its institutions with open
mind. Russia remains illiterate to the extent of seventy-five per cent,
and its rulers have ever discouraged or restricted education. The
autocracy rested, not upon the affection, but upon the ignorance, of its
people.
When we regard the whole history of that autocracy we begin to
understand the tragedy of Russia. We dimly but surely perceive, in the
dawn of European history, that amongst the families which wandered
through the forests of Europe none were more democratic than, few were
as democratic as, the early Slavs. We find this great family spread over
an area so immense that it is further encouraged to cling to democratic,
even communistic, life, and avoid the making of princes or kings. We
then find the inevitable military chiefs, not born of the Slav people,
intruding and creating princedoms: we find an oriental autocracy
fastening itself, violently and parasitically, upon the helpless nation:
we find the evil example and the t
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Produced by Gardner Buchanan
THE WILDERNESS TRAIL
by Frank Williams (Francis William Sullivan)
Illustrations by Douglas Duer
published by Grosset and Dunlap
New York, 1913
Copyright 1913
by W.J. Watt & Company
_Published June_
CONTENTS
I UP FOR JUDGMENT
II ILL REPORT
III A MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE
IV INTO THE DANGER ZONE
V DEATH TRAIL
VI THE LAST STAND
VII JEAN PUTS IT UP TO HER FATHER
VIII THE ALARM
IX THE BROKEN PIPE
X THE ESCAPE
XI A HOT SCENT
XII MARIA TAKES ACTION
XIII A RESCUE AND A SURPRISE
XIV A FRIGID IDYL
XV PREY OF THE PACK
XVI FEARFUL DISCLOSURES
XVII THE COMPANION OF MANY TRAILS
XVIII IN NEW CLUTCHES
XIX A FORCED MARCH
XX AWAITING THE HANGMAN
XXI A NOTE AND ITS ANSWER
XXII SECRETED EVIDENCE
XXIII THE BROTHERS
XXIV NINE POINTS OF THE LAW
XXV AGAINST FEARFUL ODDS
XXVI RENUNCIATION
CHAPTER I
UP FOR JUDGMENT
"And you accuse me of that?"
Donald McTavish glared down into the heavy, ugly face of his
superior--a face that concealed behind its mask of dignity emotions
as potent and lasting as the northland that bred them.
"I accuse you of nothing." Fitzpatrick pawed his white beard. "I
only know that a great quantity of valuable furs, trapped in your
district, have not been turned in to me here at the factory. It is
to explain this discrepancy that I have called you down by dogs in
the dead of winter. Where are those furs?" He looked up out of the
great chair in which he was sitting, and regarded his inferior with
cold insolence. For half an hour now, the interview had been in
progress, half an hour of shame and dismay for McTavish, and the
same amount of satisfaction for the factor.
"I tell you I have no idea where they are," returned the post
captain. "So far as I know, the usual number of pelts have been
traded for at the fort. If any have disappeared, it is a matter of
the white trappers and the Indians, not my affair."
"Yes," agreed the other suavely; "but who is in charge of Fort
Dickey?"
"I am."
"Then, how can you say it is not your affair when the Company is
losing twenty thousand pounds a year from your district?"
The young man ground his teeth helplessly, torn between the desire
to throttle ugly old Fitzpatrick where he sat, or to turn on his
heel, and walk out without another word. He did neither. Either
would have been disastrous, as he well knew. He had not come up
three years with the spring _brigade_ from the Dickey and Lake
Bolsover without knowing the autocratic, almost royal, rule of old
Angus. Fitzpatrick, factor at Fort Severn for these two decades.
So, now, he choked back his wrath, and walked quietly up and down,
pondering what to do. The room was square, low, and heavily raftered.
Donald had to duck his head for one particular beam at each passage
back and forth. Beneath his feet were great bearskins in profusion;
a moose's head decorated one end of the place. The furniture was
heavy and home-made.
At last, he turned upon the factor.
"Look here!" he said simply. "What have you got against me? You
know as well as I do that there isn't another man in your whole
district you would call in from a winter post to accuse in this
way. What have I done? How have I failed in my duty? Have I taken
advantage of my position as the chief commissioner's son?"
Fitzpatrick pawed his beard again, and shot a sharp, inquisitive
glance at the young captain. That mention of his father's position
was slightly untoward. In turn, he pondered a minute.
"Up to this time," he said at last, "you have done your work well.
You know the business pretty thoroughly, and your Indians seem to
be contented. I have nothing against you--"
"No," burst out McTavish, "you have nothing against me. That's just
it. Virtues with you are always negative; never have I heard you
grant a positive quality in all the time I have known you. And,
to be frank, I think that you have something against me. But what
it is I cannot find out." He paused eloquently before the white-haired
figure that seemed as immovable as a block of granite.
"This is hardly the time for personalities, McTavish," said the
other, harshly. "What I want to know is, what steps will you take
to restore the furs that have disappeared from your district?"
"How do you know they have disappeared from my district?" Donald
blazed forth.
"I know everything in this country," replied Fitzpatrick, dryly.
"Then, am I under the surveillance of your spying Indians?"
"Enough!" roared the factor, at last roused from his calm. "I am
not here to be questioned. Answer me! What are you going to do?"
McTavish dropped his clenched hands with a gesture of hopeless
weariness.
"I'll swallow your insulting innuendoes, and try to dig up some
evidence to support your accusation," he said, quietly. "If I get
track of any leakage, I'll do my best to stop it. If not, you shall
learn as soon as possible."
"The leakage exists," rejoined the factor, doggedly. "Plug the
hole, or
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E-text prepared by Brian Coe, Chris Pinfield, 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 map.
See 53093-h.htm or 53093-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53093/53093-h/53093-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53093/53093-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/TheDefenceOfLucknow
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capitals have been replaced by full capitals.
[Illustration:
PLAN OF
THE ENTRENCHED POSITION
OF THE BRITISH GARRISON
AT LUCKNOW.
1857.
Published by Smith, Elder & Co., Cornhill London 1858.]
THE DEFENCE OF LUCKNOW.
A Diary Recording the Daily Events during the Siege of the European
Residency
From 31st May to 25th September, 1857.
BY A STAFF OFFICER
With a Plan of the Residency.
SECOND EDITION.
London:
Smith, Elder, and Co., 65 Cornhill.
1858.
The right of translation is reserved.
London
Printed by Spottiswoode and Co.
New-Street Square.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The Author of this work desiring, for military reasons, to withhold his
name, the Publishers feel it due to the public to vouch for the
authenticity of the "Diary," by stating that the Author is an officer of
the Staff of the Anglo-Indian Army, and was in Lucknow during the whole
of the siege; as, indeed, will be apparent from the full details he has
given of all that transpired in the garrison.
They beg to add that the only alteration made by them is the
substitution of the most recent and complete list of the killed and
wounded during the defence, as given in the "Homeward Mail," for the
list appended to the MS. They have also added the eloquent despatch of
Brigadier Inglis, recording the services of the garrison.
65, CORNHILL:
_Feb. 25th, 1858_.
DIARY OF
EVENTS AT LUCKNOW.
For about ten days previous to the outbreak, daily reports were made
that an _emeute_ was intended, and Sir H. M. Lawrence had ordered all
kinds of stores to be purchased and stored in the "Muchee Bhawun" and
the City Residency. But latterly the intelligence began to excite less
attention, as so many days had passed away which had been named for the
outbreak. On the evening of the 30th May, however, a sepoy of the 13th
Native Infantry, who had shortly before received a reward from Sir Henry
Lawrence for having assisted in the capture of a spy, came to Captain
Wilson of the 13th Native Infantry, Assistant Adjutant-General, and said
he could not help reporting that there would be a rising amongst the
sepoy regiments, to be commenced in the lines of the 71st Native
Infantry that evening at about 8 or 9 P.M.; but he was not certain at
what hour. His manner in giving this information was _earnest_ and
_impressive_.
On that evening everything went on as usual; all remained quiet in the
cantonments, where Sir Henry Lawrence was residing. Some days previously
the ladies and children had been removed to the Residency in the city,
which place had already been occupied by a party of the 32nd Foot and
two guns. The 9 P.M. gun was fired, and was evidently the preconcerted
signal for the mutiny; for a few minutes after, whilst Sir Henry
Lawrence and his staff were at dinner at the Residency, a sepoy came
running in and reported a disturbance in the lines. Two shots were heard
in the 71st lines. The horses of the staff were at once ordered, and
they proceeded to the lines. On the way, more dropping shots were heard
from the left of the 71st lines. The party arrived in the camp, where
about 300 men of Her Majesty's 32nd, with four guns of Major Kaye's
battery, and two guns of the Oude Irregular Force were posted, and found
them all on the alert. These were posted in a position on the extreme
right of the 71st lines (the whole front of which they swept), and they
were also contiguous to the road leading from cantonments to the city.
Sir Henry Lawrence immediately took two guns and a company of the 32nd
with him on the road leading to the town, and there took post; thereby
blocking up the road, and effectually cutting off all access to the
city. He sent back soon after for reinforcements of the Europeans and
for two more guns. In the meantime, the officers of the several
regiments had proceeded at once to their respective lines. Bands of
insurgents had meanwhile made their way amongst the officers' bungalows,
keeping up as they went a desultory fire, which prevented many from
passing the roads towards the lines. One of the first of these parties
made straight for the mess house of the 71st Native Infantry, whence the
officers had escaped but a few minutes before. They exhibited great
bloodthirstiness, making every search for the officers, and ending by
firing the house. On several shots being fired from the 71st lines on
the 32nd Foot and guns, the order was given to open with grape; on which
a rush was made by the sepoys to the rear; when they passed the infantry
picket, which is situate in the centre of cantonments. The picket was
under the command of Lieutenant Grant of the 71st Native Infantry. His
men remained with him till the mutineers were close upon him. They then
broke; but the subadar of the guard, and some men of the 13th and 48th
Regiments, composing the guard, tried to save him by placing him under a
bed. A man of the 71st Native Infantry, who was on guard with him,
however, discovered the place of his concealment to the mutineers, and
he was there brutally murdered--receiving no less than fifteen bayonet
wounds, besides some from musket balls.
From the first, Lieutenant Hardinge, taking with him some few sowars of
his Irregular Cavalry, patrolled up and down the main street of the
cantonments, and went to the officers' messes on the chance of saving
any lives. In the compound of the 71st mess, he was fired at by a
mutineer, who then rushed upon him with his bayonet, which pierced his
arm. More than once the cantonments were thus patrolled by Lieutenant
Hardinge under a smart fire, with the same humane intentions; but not in
sufficient force to prevent the burning and plundering of the officers'
bungalows, and of the bazaars. The excitement in the lines continued;
while the 32nd remained quietly in position, awaiting the advent of the
remnants of the regiments who had remained true to their colours. A
remnant of the 13th Native Infantry, about 200 men, with colours and
treasure, came up; and, according to previous arrangement, joined and
fell in on the right of the 32nd. A small portion of the 71st, without
being able to save their colours or their treasure, (through the
disaffection of the native officer on duty,) also came up and took post
next the 32nd Foot. Of the 48th, nothing was heard till 10 A.M. next
day. About 10 o'clock P.M. many of the mutineers had made their way up
to some empty artillery lines, outside the 71st Native Infantry lines,
whence they commenced firing. Brigadier Handscomb, who had come up from
the rear of the 71st lines, was killed by a stray shot from this place:
just as he had reached the left flank of the 32nd, he fell dead off his
horse. The bungalows throughout the cantonments were most of them on
fire. No attempt was subsequently made to attack the position. To secure
the Residency bungalow, and that portion of the cantonment next the city
road, 4 guns and a company and a half were taken up to the cantonment
Residency, and the guns placed at each gate. All was now quiet, and the
remainder of the night passed away without any further event. Nothing
had been seen or heard of the 48th Native Infantry. Many officers had
most wonderful escapes from death. Lieutenant and Adjutant Chambers of
the 13th Native Infantry, was severely wounded in the leg, whilst
effecting his escape from the magazine where he had taken a guard of his
regiment.
_May 31st._--At daylight, the force, consisting of some companies of Her
Majesty's 32nd Foot, and the remnants of the native regiments, about 100
men 71st, and 220 men 13th Native Infantry, with part of the 7th
Cavalry, and four guns, advanced down the parade in front of the lines
of the several regiments. From the lines of the 13th Native Infantry
about fifty men came, and said they had saved the magazine of that
regiment. Hearing that the body of the rebels had retired towards the
race course, where they had plundered the lines of the 7th Cavalry, and
murdered Cornet Raleigh of that regiment (who had been left there sick)
the whole force of cavalry and infantry, with four guns, proceeded
thither, leaving Colonel Case with a portion of the 32nd in position in
cantonments. On arriving in the open plain, a body of about 1200 men
were seen in line in the distance, drawn up to the race course. Many of
the cavalry galloped over at once to the insurgents. The guns then
opened with round shot, which dispersed them, and they made the best of
their way across country, followed immediately by the cavalry and guns,
and, at a greater distance by the infantry. No opportunity offered for
the guns to again open, owing to the celerity of their flight; but the
cavalry hovered round and took about sixty prisoners, who were brought
into cantonments. The pursuit continued in the same order until the guns
were stopped by a nullah, over which they could not cross. The cavalry,
however, continued their pursuit; and kept it up for some ten miles. By
10 A.M. the force had returned to cantonments, as the heat was excessive.
As most of the bungalows were burned (the officers having lost
everything) the troops were moved into camp,--the 32nd and guns into the
position they held formerly; the native regiments next them on the
right; and in the following order:--13th next the 32nd,
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THE MYSTERY OF
THE BARRANCA
BY
HERMAN WHITAKER
AUTHOR OF
"THE PLANTER" AND
"THE SETTLER"
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
MCMXIII
COPYRIGHT 1913 BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED FEBRUARY 1913
[Illustration: [See page 248
SEYD LIFTED FRANCESCA AND LEAPED]
"_To Vera, my daughter and gentle collaborator, whose nimble fingers
lightened the load of many labors, this book is lovingly dedicated._"
THE MYSTERY OF THE BARRANCA
CHAPTER I
"Oh Bob, just look at them!"
Leaning down from his perch on the sacked mining tools which formed the
apex of their baggage, Billy Thornton punched his companion in the back
to call his attention to a scene which had spread a blaze of humor over
his own rich crop of freckles.
As a matter of fact, the spectacle of two men fondly embracing can
always be depended on to stir the crude Anglo-Saxon sense of humor. In
this case it was rendered still more ridiculous by age and portliness,
but two years' wandering through interior Mexico had accustomed
Thornton's comrade, Robert Seyd, to the sight. After a careless glance
he resumed his contemplation of the crowd that thronged the little
station. Exhibiting every variety of Mexican costume, from the plain
white blanket of the peons to the leather suits of the rancheros and
the hacendados, or owners of estates, it was as picturesque and
brilliant in color and movement as anything in a musical extravaganza.
The European clothing of a young girl who presently stepped out of the
ticket office emphasized the theatrical flavor by its vivid contrast.
She might easily have been the captive heroine among bandits, and the
thought actually occurred to Billy. While she paused to call her dog, a
huge Siberian wolf hound, she was hidden from Seyd's view by the stout
embracers. Therefore it was to the dog that he applied Billy's remark at
first.
"Isn't she a peach?"
She seemed the finest of her race that he had ever seen, and Seyd was
just about to say that she carried herself like a "perfect lady" when
the dissolution of the aforesaid embrace brought the girl into view. He
stopped--with a small gasp that testified to his astonishment at her
unusual type.
Although slender for her years--about two and twenty--her throat and
bust were rounded in perfect development. The clear olive complexion
was undoubtedly Spanish, yet her face lacked the firm line that hardens
with the years. Perhaps some strain of Aztec blood--from which the
Spanish-Mexican is never free--had helped to soften her features,
but this would not account for their pleasing irregularity. A bit
_retrousee_, the small nose with its well-defined nostrils patterned
after the Celtic. Had Seyd known it, the face in its entirety--colors
and soft contours--is to be found to this day among the descendants of
the sailors who escaped from the wreck of the Spanish Armada on the west
coast of Ireland. Pretty and unusual as she was, her greatest charm
centered in the large black eyes that shone amid her clear pallor,
conveying in broad day the tantalizing mystery of a face seen for an
instant through a warm gloaming. In the moment that he caught their
velvet glance Seyd received an impression of vivacious intelligence
altogether foreign in his experience of Mexican women.
As she was standing only a few feet away, he knew that she must have
heard Billy's remark; but, counting on her probable ignorance of
English, he did not hesitate to answer. "Pretty? Well, I should
say--pretty enough to marry. The trouble is that in this country the
ugliness of the grown woman seems to be in inverse ratio to her girlish
beauty. Bet you the fattest hacendado is her father. And she'll give him
pounds at half his age."
"Maybe," Billy answered. "Yet I'd be almost willing to take the chance."
As the girl had turned just then to look at the approaching train
neither of them caught the sudden dark flash, supreme disdain, that drew
an otherwise quite tender red mouth into a scarlet line. But for the dog
they would never have been a whit the wiser. For as the engine came
hissing along the platform the brute sprang and crouched on the tracks,
furiously snarling, ready for a spring at the headlight, which it
evidently took for the Adam's apple of the strange monster
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NAPOLEON
[Illustration]
[Illustration: _Napoleon._
_From a portrait by Lassalle._]
NAPOLEON
A Sketch of
HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, STRUGGLES, AND
ACHIEVEMENTS
BY
THOMAS E. WATSON
AUTHOR OF “THE STORY OF FRANCE,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS AND FACSIMILES_
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1903
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1902,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped February, 1902. Reprinted May, 1902; January,
1903.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
TO MY WIFE
Georgia Durham Watson
PREFACE
In this volume the author has made the effort to portray Napoleon as he
appears to an average man. Archives have not been rummaged, new sources
of information have not been discovered; the author merely claims to
have used such authorities, old and new, as are accessible to any
diligent student. No attempt has been made to give a full and detailed
account of Napoleon’s life or work. To do so would have required the
labor of a decade, and the result would be almost a library. The
author _has_ tried to give to the great Corsican his proper historical
position, his true rating as a man and a ruler,--together with a just
estimate of his achievements.
THOMSON, GEORGIA,
Dec. 24, 1901.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. CORSICA 1
II. BOYHOOD 17
III. LIEUTENANT 37
IV. REVOLUTION 47
V. RETURNS HOME 58
VI. FIRST SERVICE 70
VII. AT MARSEILLES 86
VIII. 13TH OF VENDÉMIAIRE 94
IX. THE YOUNG REPUBLIC 115
X. JOSEPHINE 123
XI. THE ARMY OF ITALY 135
XII. MILAN 148
XIII. MANTUA 159
XIV. CAMPO FORMIO 175
XV. JOSEPHINE AT MILAN 188
XVI. EGYPT 196
XVII. THE SIEGE OF ACRE 211
XVIII. THE RETURN TO FRANCE 221
XIX. THE REMOVAL OF THE COUNCILS 230
XX. THE FALL OF THE DIRECTORY 242
XXI. FIRST CONSUL 256
XXII. MARENGO 275
XXIII. THE CODE NAPOLÉON 294
XXIV. PLOT AND CONSPIRACY 310
XXV. EMPEROR 329
XXVI. DISTRIBUTION OF HONORS 349
XXVII. JENA 355
XXVIII. ENTRY INTO BERLIN 363
XXIX. WARSAW 372
XXX. HABITS AND CHARACTERISTICS 386
XXXI. HIGH-WATER MARK 412
XXXII. SPAIN 425
XXXIII. WAGRAM 435
XXXIV. THE DIVORCE 450
XXXV. MOSCOW 470
XXXVI. THE RETREAT 491
XXXVII. IN PARIS AGAIN 502
XXXVIII. METTERNICH 514
XXXIX. DRESDEN AND LEIPSIC 523
XL. RETREAT FROM LEIPSIC 543
XLI. THE FRANKFORT PROPOSALS 557
XLII. THE FALL OF PARIS 571
XLIII. ELBA 583
XLIV. ELBA 598
XLV. LOUIS XVIII 612
XLVI. THE RETURN FROM ELBA 628
XLVII. REORGANIZATION 635
XLVIII. WATERLOO 647
XLIX. WATERLOO 657
L. ST. HELENA 672
LI. ST. HELENA 687
INDEX 705
LIST
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_SOCIAL ENGLAND._
NEW ILLUSTRATED BOOKS.
A COLONIAL TRAMP: Travels and Adventures in Australia and New Guinea.
By HUME NISBET. Profusely Illustrated by the Author. 2 vols., demy
8vo.
BRAYHARD: The Strange Adventures of One Ass and Seven Champions. By
F. M. ALLEN. Illustrated by HARRY FURNISS. Crown 8vo, 6s.
_THE ÉDITION DE LUXE OF_ AS IN A LOOKING GLASS. By F. C. PHILIPS.
Illustrated by G. DU MAURIER. Extra crown quarto, 31s. 6d.
_MRS. PANTON'S HOUSEHOLD MANUALS._ FROM KITCHEN TO GARRET. Crown 8vo,
6s.
NOOKS AND CORNERS. Crown 8vo, 6s.
THE FLOATING PRINCE, and other Fairy Tales. By the Author of "Rudder
Grange." With Forty Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6s.
PERFERVID: The Career of Ninian Jameison. By JOHN DAVIDSON.
Illustrated by HARRY FURNISS. Crown 8vo, 6s.
PICTURESQUE LONDON. By PERCY FITZGERALD. With about 100
Illustrations. Extra crown 4to.
SOCIAL ENGLAND UNDER THE REGENCY. By JOHN ASHTON. Profusely
Illustrated. 2 vols., demy 8vo, 30s.
UP AND DOWN: Sketches of Travel. By G. MACQUOID. Illustrated by THOS.
R. MACQUOID. Demy 8vo, 10s. 6d.
MEMORIES OF THE MONTH. By HUME NISBET. With Photogravure
Frontispiece, twelve whole-page, and numerous smaller Illustrations.
Foolscap 4to, 21s.
TING-A-LING TALES. By FRANK R. STOCKTON. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
AN ARTIST'S TOUR IN NORTH AND CENTRAL AMERICA AND IN THE SANDWICH
ISLANDS. By B. KROUPA. Profusely Illustrated by the Author. Royal
8vo, 21s.
FOLK AND FAIRY TALES. By Mrs. BURTON HARRISON. With 24 whole-page
Illustrations by WALTER CRANE. Crown 8vo, 6s.
WARD AND DOWNEY, PUBLISHERS, LONDON.
SOCIAL ENGLAND
UNDER
_THE REGENCY_.
BY
JOHN ASHTON,
AUTHOR OF "SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE," "OLD TIMES,"
"DAWN OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY," ETC.
_WITH 90 ILLUSTRATIONS._
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
London:
WARD AND DOWNEY,
12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
MDCCCXC.
PREFACE.
Certainly, it is not the least part of an Author's reward, for all
his pains and trouble, to find that the Public appreciates his
efforts, and purchases, and reads his books.
This, I am happy to say, was specially the case with one of mine,
"The Dawn of the Nineteenth Century." In it I wrote of Social England
in the first decade of the century, leaving off at a time when George
III. was hopelessly incompetent to govern, and a Regency was in
progress of establishment.
The favour which the Public bestowed upon this book emboldens me
to continue it, and sketch the men and manners of the Regency.
Most books of this class deal mainly with the great ones of the
land, but I have only done so where necessary to illustrate the
history of the times, my aim being more to delineate the social
condition of England, and her people; and this work will be found
perfectly reliable as history, nothing being taken at second hand,
but all compiled, even down to the illustrations, from original and
contemporaneous authorities.
JOHN ASHTON.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
The King's Malady -- Former preparations for a Regency --
King's recovery -- The King at home -- His love of music --
Severe frost -- Lucien Buonaparte a prisoner of war -- French
obstructions to commerce -- A gallant merchantman 1
CHAPTER II.
A Regency inevitable -- Prince of Wales waited on -- He
undertakes the Regency -- French and English prisoners of war
-- Roman Catholic soldiers -- Roughness of manners -- Passing
of Regency Bill -- The Prince's companions -- Inauguration of
the Prince as Regent -- Improvement in the health of the King 17
CHAPTER III.
Story of a crime -- The Shanavests and the Caravats --
Gluttony -- Smuggling bullion -- A Tar at the theatre --
Deposition of French Colours in Whitehall Chapel -- The Duke
of York reinstated as Commander-in-Chief -- The Regency Fête
-- Account of the entertainment 39
CHAPTER IV.
Ladies' dresses at the Fête -- The banquet -- Carlton House
thrown open to the public -- The crush -- Sir F. Burdett's
action against the Speaker -- Relief of British Prisoners in
France -- Scarcity of guineas -- Lord King and his tenants --
Stories respecting the Currency 57
CHAPTER V.
A smuggler's victim -- Illness of Gilray -- A gallant
highwayman -- A Witch -- Bartholomew Fair -- The Comet --
A practical joke on the Queen -- Woman's Cricket Match --
Ballooning -- French prisoners of war -- Luddite riots -- The
King and his physicians -- His health 75
CHAPTER VI.
1812.
The Regent's doings -- The Royal Sprain -- Colonel McMahon --
Luddite and Factory Riots -- Scarcity of Bullion -- Murder of
Mr. Perceval 97
CHAPTER VII.
French Prisoners of War -- Repeal of the "Orders in Council"
-- Rejoicings for the Victory of Salamanca -- Saturnalia
thereat 119
CHAPTER VIII.
Chimney-sweeps -- Climbing boys -- Riot at Bartholomew Fair
-- Duelling -- War with France -- Declaration of war between
England and America -- Excommunication for bearing false
witness -- Early Steam Locomotives -- Margate in 1812 --
Resurrection men -- Smithfield Cattle Club 133
CHAPTER IX.
1813.
High price of provisions -- Luddites -- Smuggling -- Day of
Humiliation -- The Cossack -- Mdlle. Platoff -- Discovery of
body of Charles I. at Windsor -- The Queen and the mad woman
-- The fasting woman of Tutbury -- Fight between the _Shannon_
and the _Chesapeake_ -- Rejoicings for the Victory at Vittoria
-- Fête at Vauxhall--William Huntingdon, S.S. 149
CHAPTER X.
Emperor of Russia invested with the Garter -- The Poet
Laureate -- French Prisoners of War -- Joy over Napoleon's
defeat at Leipsic -- "Orange boven" -- The Allies and the War
with France -- The War with America -- The Princess Charlotte
and her establishment -- The Prince of Orange her suitor --
The King's Health 179
CHAPTER XI.
A Cat in a Conflagration -- Scramble for Exchequer Bills --
A Matrimonial Dispute -- An old Debtor -- A Volunteer Dinner
-- A Man and Hedgehog -- Torpedoes -- Slavery -- Gambling on
Napoleon's Life -- Gas Lighting 199
CHAPTER XII.
1814.
The Fog -- Condition of Ireland -- State of the Navy -- The
Regent at Belvoir -- Coming of age of Princess Charlotte --
Day of Thanksgiving -- Great Snowstorm -- Thames frozen over
-- Sports thereon -- Frost fair -- The Country and the Snow 209
CHAPTER XIII.
Burning of the Custom House -- De Berenger's fraud on the
Stock Exchange -- Lord Cochrane inculpated -- Price of
provisions -- Arrival of the Duchess of Oldenburgh -- The
Capitulation of Paris, and fall of Napoleon -- Papa Violette
-- Elba 233
CHAPTER XIV.
Illuminations for Peace -- Ovation to Louis XVIII. --
His departure for France -- Peace with France -- Cheaper
provisions -- Distinguished foreign guests in London --
Arrival of Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia -- Movements
of the great folk -- Popularity of General Blücher 251
CHAPTER XV.
Royal festivities -- The Emperor of Russia, the King of
Prussia, and General Blücher at Oxford -- Banquet at Guildhall
-- Departure of the Allied Sovereigns -- Signature of Treaty
of Peace -- Proclamation of Peace -- State Thanksgiving at St.
Paul's Cathedral 277
CHAPTER XVI.
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See 48537-h.htm or 48537-h.zip:
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[Illustration: _"Why it_ is, _a large fried egg," said Billy,
excitedly_.--Page 47. Frontispiece.]
BILLY BOUNCE
by
W. W. DENSLOW and DUDLEY A. BRAGDON
Pictures by Denslow
G. W. Dillingham Co.
Publishers New York
Copyright 1906 by W. W. Denslow
All rights reserved.
Issued September, 1906.
To
"Pete" and "Ponsie"
List of Chapters.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. DARK PLOT OF NICKEL PLATE, THE POLISHED
VILLAIN 9
II. A JUMP TO SHAMVILLE 22
III. BILLY IS CAPTURED BY TOMATO 34
IV. ADVENTURES IN EGGS-AGGERATION 47
V. PEASE PORRIDGE HOT 63
VI. BLIND MAN'S BUFF 77
VII. THE WISHING BOTTLE 88
VIII. GAMMON AND SPINACH 97
IX. IN SILLY LAND 110
X. SEA URCHIN AND NE'ER DO EEL 124
XI. IN DERBY TOWN 138
XII. O'FUDGE 152
XIII. BILLY PLAYS A TRICK ON BOREA 167
XIV. KING CALCIUM AND STERRY OPTICAN 181
XV. BILLY MEETS GLUCOSE 195
XVI. IN SPOOKVILLE 210
XVII. IN THE VOLCANO OF VOCIFEROUS 221
XVIII. THE ELUSIVE BRIDGE 236
XIX. IN THE DARK, NEVER WAS 247
XX. THE WINDOW OF FEAR 257
XXI. IN THE QUEEN BEE PALACE 267
Full Page Illustrations
"_Why it_ is, _a large fried egg," said Billy, excitedly_.
--Page 47....Frontispiece.
PAGE
"I _can't tell you where Bogie Man lives, it's against the rules_." 14
_"Now," said Mr. Gas, "be careful not to sit on the ceiling."_ 17
"_Come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce._" 39
_Billy never wanted for plenty to eat._ 64
_"He-he-ho-ho, oh! what a joke," cried the Scally Wags._ 82
_"That's my black cat-o-nine tails," said the old woman._ 90
_The Night Mare and the Dream Food Sprites._ 101
_"Get off, you're sinking us," cried Billy._ 134
_He saw flying to meet him several shaggy bears._ 141
_"Talking about me, were you?" said Boreas, arriving in a swirl of
snow._ 172
_"Me feyther," cried she, in a tragic voice, "the light, the
light."_ 187
"_Come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening._" 217
_Billy shot a blast of hot air from his pump full in Bumbus's face._ 263
"_Allow me to present Bogie Man._" 271
Preface
OUR PURPOSE.--Fun for the "children between the ages of one and one
hundred."
AND INCIDENTALLY--the elimination of deceit and gore in the telling:
two elements that enter, we think, too vitally into the construction of
most fairy tales.
AS TO THE MORAL.--That is not obtrusive. But if we can suggest to the
children that fear alone can harm them through life's journey; and to
silly nurses and thoughtless parents that the serious use of ghost
stories, Bogie Men and Bugbears of all kinds for the sheer purpose of
frightening or making a
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LUTHER'S
EPISTLE SERMONS
TRINITY SUNDAY TO ADVENT.
TRANSLATED WITH THE HELP OF OTHERS
BY
PROF. JOHN NICHOLAS LENKER, D.D.
AUTHOR OF "LUTHERANS IN ALL LANDS," TRANSLATOR OF
LUTHER'S WORKS INTO ENGLISH, AND PRESIDENT OF
THE NATIONAL LUTHERAN LIBRARY ASSOCIATION
VOL. III.
(_Volume IX of Luther's Complete Works_.)
Third Thousand
_The Luther Press_
MINNEAPOLIS, MINN., U.S.A.
1909.
_Dedication_
To all Laymen of Evangelical Christendom interested in developing a
deeper Christian Life, on the basis of the spiritual classics of our
Protestant Church Fathers, this volume of sermons that apply the pure
doctrine of God's Word to everyday life, is prayerfully dedicated.
Copyright, 1909, by J. N. LENKER.
_Foreword_
Here comes the English Luther in his twelfth visit to your home. In
peasant boots, decorated by no star of worldliness nor even by the
cross of churchliness, but by the Book from heaven pressed to his
heart in a firm attitude of earnest prayer, he comes as the man of
prayer and of the one Book, a familiar friend, to help you to live
the simple Christian life.
This volume of twenty-four practical sermons from Trinity Sunday to
Advent marks an epoch in that it completes in an unabridged form one
branch of Luther's writings, the eight volumes of his Gospel and
Epistle Postil. They are bound in uniform size, numbered as in the
Erlangen edition from the seventh to the fourteenth volume inclusive,
paragraphed for convenient reference according to the Walch edition
with summaries of the Gospel sermons by Bugenhagen. The few subheads
inserted in the text are a new feature for American readers.
These eight volumes of 175 sermons and 3,110 pages are the classic
devotional literature of Protestantism. They were preached by its
founder to the mother congregation of Evangelical Christendom in the
birth-period of the greatest factor in modern civilization. No
collection of Evangelical sermons has passed through more editions
and been printed in more languages, none more loved and praised, none
more read and prayed. They will be a valuable addition to the meager
sermon literature on the Epistle texts in the English language.
English Protestants will hereafter have no excuse for unacquaintance
with Luther's spiritual writings.
What Luther's two Catechisms were in the school room to teach the
Christian faith to the youth, that these sermons were in the homes to
develop the same faith in adults. They have maintained their good
name wherever translated until the present and their contents are
above the reach of critics. These Epistle sermons especially apply
the Christian truth to everyday life. The order in developing the
Christian life with the best help from the prince of the Teutonic
church fathers, should be from the Small to the Large Catechism and
then to his Epistle sermons. Blessed the pastor and congregation who
can lead the youth to "Church Postil Reading"--to read in harmony
with their church-going. Blessed is the immigrant or diaspora
missionary who finds his people reading them in the new settlements
he visits.
Next to the Bible and Catechisms no books did more to awaken and
sustain the great Evangelical religious movements under Spener in
Germany, Rosenius in Sweden, and Hauge in Norway, than these sermon
books devoutly and regularly read in the homes of church members.
The transition of a people and church from a weak language into a
stronger, is easy and accompanied by gain; while the opposite course
from a strong into a weaker tongue is difficult; and accompanied by
loss. While in our land the Germans and Scandinavians lose much in
the transition ordeal, all is not lost; they have something to give.
It is a good sign that two-tongued congregations are growing in
favor. Familiar thought in a strange language is not so strange as
when both language and thought are foreign. A church whose
constituency is many-tongued should avoid becoming one-tongued.
Church divisions are often more ethnological than theological. If
exclusively English pastors learned one-tenth as much
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Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: DANDELIONS]
Dandelions, dandelions, shining through the dew,
Let the Kings have Cloth of Gold, but let _us_ have _you_!
CHILD SONGS OF CHEER
BY
EVALEEN STEIN
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
ANTOINETTE INGLIS
BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Published, August, 1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918,
BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
* * * * *
_Dear Children, all the little words
These printed pages through,
They are a flock of little birds
I bring to sing to you.
Sometimes they sing of foolish things,
And other times they try
To tell their gladness when their wings
Soar up to seek the sky.
So, Sweethearts, do but kindly hark!
If but a sparrow throng,
Or if among them there's a lark,
To you their songs belong!_
* * * * *
Contents
Up, Little Ones!
Dandelions
Our Puppies
The Lost Balloon
The Circus Procession
May-Baskets
The Picture-Book Giant
Did You Ever?
Decoration Day
Chu-Chu Cars
Fairy Rings
The Firefly
A Rain Song
Fairies
The Little Fir-Trees
The Wren-House
The Baby's Ride
An Indian Raid
The First Sleigh-Ride
Sleepy Time
When Bettie and Anne Went Walking
The Bluebird
The Organ-Grinder
The New Moon
Showery Time
Easter Day
The Sandman
Dandelion Curls
Pop-Corn
The Rash Little Sparrow
What If?
Easter Eggs
The Birds' Bath
November Morning
The Runaway
Lost!
The Queen's Page
Our Tree-Toad
In the Water-World
Who Was It?
Visiting Day
A Valentine to Catherine
Fireflies
The Rainy Day
The First Red-Bird
The Weather-Vane
The Swan
Baby's Baking
A Sure Sign
Another Sure Sign
The Robin's Bath
The Frosted Pane
The First Snow
Grandfather Knows
Sleigh-Bells
The Red-Bird
Wild Beasts
Wherefore Wings?
Basking
With a May-Basket for Baby Agnes
The Little Nest
Christmas Candles
A Song of the Christmas-Tree
Our Kittens
In July
A Valentine to a Little Child
Zip!
A Little Carol
Song
The Three Candles
* * * * *
Illustrations
DANDELIONS
Dandelions, dandelions, shining through the dew,
Let the kings have Cloth of Gold, but let _us_
have _you_! _Frontispiece_
FAIRY RINGS
See them dancing, dancing,
While the silver moon
Tips their swiftly glancing
Little silver shoon!
THE BIRDS' BATH
When the sun shines warm and high
Robins cluster round its brink
CHRISTMAS CANDLES
We can tell Him of our love
If we set a light for Him
* * * * *
Child Songs of Cheer
UP, LITTLE ONES!
A robin redbreast, fluting there
Upon the apple-bough,
Is telling all the world how fair
Are apple-blossoms now;
The honey-dew its sweetness spills
From cuckoo-cups, and all
The crocuses and daffodils
Are drest for festival!
Such pretty things are to be seen,
Such pleasant things to do,
The April earth it is so green,
The April sky so blue,
The path from dawn to even-song
So joyous is to-day,
Up, little ones! and dance along
The lilac-scented way!
DANDELIONS
Hey-a-day-a-day, my dear! Dandelion time!
Come, and let us make for them a pretty little rhyme!
See the meadows twinkling now, beautiful and bright
As the sky when through the blue shine the stars at night!
Once upon a time, folks say, mighty kings of old
Met upon a splendid field called "The Cloth of Gold."
But, we wonder, could it be there was ever seen
Brighter gold than glitters now in our meadows green?
Dandelions, dandelions, shining through the dew,
Let the kings have Cloth of Gold, but let _us_ have _you_!
OUR PUPPIES
Little ears as soft as silk,
Little teeth as white as milk,
Little noses cool and pink,
Little eyes that blink and blink,
Little bodies round and fat,
Little hearts that pit-a-pat,
Surely prettier puppies never
Were before nor can be ever!
THE LOST BALLOON
O dear! my purple toy balloon
Has flown away! and very soon
It will be high up as the moon!
And don't you think the man up there
Will wonder what it is, and stare?
Perhaps hell say, "_Well, I declare!_"
Or, maybe if it chance there are
Some little boys in yonder star,
And if it floats away so far,
Perhaps they'll jump up very high
And catch the cord as it goes by!
At any rate I hope they'll try!
THE CIRCUS PROCESSION
_Oh, hurry! hurry!_ here they come,
The band in front with the big bass drum
And blaring bugles,--there they are,
On golden thrones in a golden car,
Tooting and fluting, oh, how grand!
Hi diddle, diddle!
The fife and the fiddle!
_Hurrah, hurrah_ for the circus band!
And the red-plumed horses, oh, see them prance
And daintily lift their hoofs and dance,
While beautiful ladies with golden curls
Are jingling their bridles of gold and pearls,
And close behind
Come every kind
Of animal cages great and small,
O how I wonder what's in them all!
Here's one that's open and glaring there
Is the shaggiest snow-white polar bear!
_Woof!_ but I wonder what we'd do
If his bars broke loose right now, don't you?
And O dear me!
Just look and see
That pink-cheeked lady in skirts of gauze
And the great big lion with folded paws!
O me! O my!
I'm glad that I
Am not in that lion's cage, because
_Suppose he'd open his horrible jaws!_
--But look! the clown is coming! Of course
Facing the tail of a spotted horse
And shouting out things to make folks laugh,
And grinning up at the tall giraffe
That placidly paces along and looks
Just like giraffes in the picture-books!
And there are the elephants, two and two,
Lumbering on as they always do!
The men who lead them look so small
I wonder the elephants mind at all
As they wag their queer
Long trunks, and peer
Through their beady eyes,--folks say they know
No end of things, and I'm sure it's so!
And you never must do a thing that's bad
Or that possibly might make an elephant mad,
For he'll never forgive you, it appears,
And will punish you sure, if it takes him _years!_
So do not stare
But take good care
To mind your manners, and always try
To smile politely as they go by!
But the camels don't care if you laugh at them
With their bumpy humps like a capital M,
They lurch and sway
And seem to say,
As they wrinkle their noses, long and gray,
"This swaggering stride is quite the plan,
It's the way we walked in the caravan!"
And now more cages come rumbling by
With glittering people throned on high;
So many spangles and precious things,
They surely must all be queens and kings!
They look so proud
Above the crowd,
O my, how fine it must feel to ride
On golden wagons that hide inside
Strange animals caught in cannibal isles
And brought in ships for a million miles!
But hark! it's near
The end, for hear
That sudden screeching in piercing key!
The steaming, screaming _cal-li-o-pe_!
Just plain pianos sound terribly tame
Beside this one with the wonderful name,
And wouldn't you love some day to sit
In a circus wagon and play on it?
MAY-BASKETS
Let us take our baskets early
To the meadows green,
While the wild-flowers still are pearly
With the dewdrops' sheen.
Fill them full of blossoms rosy,
Violets and gay
Cowslips, every pretty posy
Welcoming the May.
Then our lovely loads we'll carry
Down the village street,
On each door, with laughter merry,
Hang a basket sweet.
Hey-a-day-day! It is spring now,
Lazy folks, awake!
See the pretty things we bring now
For the May-day's sake!
THE PICTURE-BOOK GIANT
Once there was a fierce, defiant,
Greedy, grumpy, grizzly giant
In the pages of a picture-book, and he
Sometimes screamed, in sudden rages,
"I must jump out from these pages,
For this life's a much too humdrum one for me!
Fiddle-dee!
Yes, this life's a quite too quiet one for me!"
So one rainy day he did it,
Took the picture-book and hid it,
Stamped his foot, and shouting loudly,
"Now I'm free!"
Boldly started out, forgetting
That he could not stand a wetting!
He was just a paper giant, don't you see?
Dearie me!
Just a gaudy, picture giant, don't you see?
DID YOU EVER?
Did you ever see a fairy in a rose-leaf coat and cap
Swinging in a cobweb hammock as he napped his noonday nap?
Did you ever see one waken very thirsty and drink up
All the honey-dew that glimmered in a golden buttercup?
Did you ever see one fly away on rainbow-twinkling wings?
If you did not, why, how comes it that you never see such things?
DECORATION DAY
See the soldiers, little ones!
Hark the drummers' beat!
See them with their flags and guns
Marching down the street!
Tattered flags from out the wars,
Let us follow these
To the little stripes and stars
Twinkling through the trees.
Watch them waving through the grass
Where the heroes sleep!
Thither gently let us pass
On this day we keep.
Let us bring our blossoms, too,
All our gardens grow;
Lilacs honey-sweet with dew,
And the lilies' snow.
Every posy of the May,
Every bloomy stem,
Every bud that breaks to-day
Gather now for them.
Lay the lilies o'er them thus,
Lovingly, for so
Down they laid their lives for us,
Long and long ago.
Heap above them bud and bough;
Softly, ere we cease,
God, we pray Thee, gently now
Fold them in Thy peace!
CHU-CHU CARS
Turn the chairs down in a row
Each behind the other, so;
_Chu-chu! Chu-chu!_ there they are,
Passenger and baggage-car,
_Chu-chu-chu!_ the Morris chair
Is the engine puffing there,
_Chu-chu! Chu-chu! Ting-a-ling!_
Don't you hear its big bell ring?
All aboard! Jump on! if you
Want to take this train. _Chu-chu!!_
Off we start now, rushing fast
Through the fields and valleys, past
Noisy cities, over bridges,
Hills and plains and mountain ridges,
_Chu-chu! Chu-chu! Chu-chu-chu!!_
At such speed it must be true
Since we started we have come
Most a million miles from home!
Jump off, some one! Quick! and go
To the pantry, for, you know,
We must have the cookie-jar
For our Pullman dining-car!
FAIRY RINGS
Softly in the gloaming
Flitting through the vale,
Fairy folk are roaming
Over hill and dale.
Pixies in the hollow,
Elves upon the height,
Let us follow, follow
Through the paling light.
Follow, all unbidden,
To the grassy glade
Wrapped around and hidden
In the forest shade.
Hark the elfin tinkle
Of their little lutes!
Mark the golden twinkle
Of their fairy flutes!
[Illustration: FAIRY RINGS]
See them dancing, dancing,
While the silver moon
Tips their swiftly glancing
Little silver shoon!
Tripping, tripping lightly,
Where their footprints fall,
Look! the grass is brightly
Growing green and tall!
Springing close, unbroken,
In a fairy ring,
For to-morrow's token
Of their frolicking!
THE FIREFLY
Flash and flicker and fly away,
Trailing light as you flutter far,
Are you a lamp for the fairies, say?
Or a flake of fire from a falling star?
A RAIN SONG
Tinkle, tinkle,
Lightly fall
On the peach buds, pink and small;
Tip the tiny grass, and twinkle
On the clover, green and tall.
Tinkle, tinkle,--
Faster now,
Little rain-drops, smite and sprinkle
Cherry-bloom and apple-bough!
Pelt the elms, and show them how
You can dash!
And splash! splash! splash!
While the thunder rolls and mutters,
And the lightnings flash and flash!
Then eddy into curls
Of a million misty swirls,
And thread the air with silver, and embroider it with pearls!
And patter, patter, patter
To a quicker time, and clatter
On the streaming window-pane;
Rain, rain,
On the leaves,
And the eaves,
And the turning weather-vane!
Rush in torrents from the tip
Of the gable-peak, and drip
In the garden-bed, and fill
All the cuckoo-cups, and pour
More and more
In the tulip-bowls, and still
Overspill
In a crystal tide until
Every yellow daffodil
Is flooded to its golden rim, and brimming o'er and o'er!
Then as gently as the low
Muffled whir of robin wings,
Or a sweep of silver strings,
Even so,
Take your airy April flight
Through the merry April light,
And melt into a mist of rainy music as you go!
FAIRIES
Grandfather says that sometimes,
When stars are twinkling and
A new moon shines, there come times
When folks see fairy-land!
So when there's next a new moon,
I mean to watch all night!
Grandfather says a blue moon
Is best for fairy light,
And in a peach-bloom, maybe,
If I look I shall see
A little fairy baby
No bigger than a bee!
THE LITTLE FIR-TREES
Hey! little evergreens,
Sturdy and strong!
Summer and autumn time
Hasten along;
Harvest the sunbeams, then,
Bind them in sheaves,
Range them, and change them
To tufts of green leaves.
Delve in the mellow mold,
Far, far below,
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow, grow!
Grow, little evergreens, grow!
Up, up so airily
To the blue sky,
Lift up your leafy tips
Stately and high;
Clasp tight your tiny cones,
Tawny and brown;
By and by, buffeting
Rains will pelt down;
By and by, bitterly
Chill winds will blow;
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow, grow!
Grow, little evergreens, grow!
Gather all uttermost
Beauty, because,--
Hark, till I tell it now!
How Santa Claus,
Out of the northern land,
Over the seas,
Soon shall come seeking you,
Evergreen trees!
Seek you with reindeer soon,
Over the snow;
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow, grow!
Grow, little evergreens, grow!
What if the maples flare
Flaunting and red,
You shall wear waxen white
Tapers instead!
What if now, otherwhere,
Birds are beguiled,
You shall yet nestle
The little Christ-child!
Ah! the strange splendor
The fir-trees shall know!
And so,
Little evergreens, grow!
Grow, grow!
Grow, little evergreens, grow!
THE WREN-HOUSE
Yesterday I took my saw
And some bits of wood,
And I made a little house
Nicely as I could.
I put on a mossy-green
Little pointed roof,
And I cut a tiny door
That is pussy-proof.
For I hope some little
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
BRITISH POLICY IN THE ILLINOIS COUNTRY
1763-1768
BY
CLARENCE EDWIN CARTER
A. M., 1906 (UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN)
THESIS
SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS
FOR THE
DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN HISTORY
IN THE
GRADUATE SCHOOL
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
1908
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
June 1 1908
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT THE THESIS PREPARED UNDER MY SUPERVISION BY
Clarence Edwin Carter, A.M.
ENTITLED British Policy in the Illinois Country, 1763-1768
IS APPROVED BY ME AS FULFILLING THIS PART OF THE REQUIREMENTS
FOR THE DEGREE OF Doctor of Philosophy in History
Evarts B Greene
HEAD OF DEPARTMENT OF History.
BRITISH POLICY IN THE ILLINOIS COUNTRY
1763-1768
CHAPTER I.—Introductory Survey.
CHAPTER II.—The Occupation of Illinois.
CHAPTER III.—Status of the Illinois Country in the Empire.
CHAPTER IV.—Trade Conditions in Illinois, 1765-1775.
CHAPTER V.—Colonizing schemes in the Illinois.
CHAPTER VI.—Events in the Illinois Country, 1765-1768.
BIBLIOGRAPHY.—
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY SURVEY.
In 1763 Great Britain was confronted with the momentous problem of
the readjustment of all her colonial relations in order to meet the
new conditions resulting from the peace of Paris, when immense areas
of territory and savage alien peoples were added to the empire. The
necessity of strengthening the imperial ties between the old colonies
and the mother country and reorganizing the new acquisitions came to
the forefront at this time and led the government into a course soon
to end in the disruption of the empire. Certainly not the least of the
questions demanding solution was that of the disposition of the country
lying to the westward of the colonies, including a number of French
settlements and a broad belt of Indian nations. It does not, however,
come within the proposed limits of this study to discuss all the
different phases of the western policy of England, except in so far as
it may be necessary to make more clear her attitude towards the French
settlements in the Illinois country.
The European situation leading to the Seven Years War, which ended so
disastrously to French dominion, is too familiar to need repetition.
That struggle was the culmination of a series of continental and
colonial wars beginning towards the close of the seventeenth century
and ending with the definitive treaty of 1763. During the first quarter
of the century France occupied a predominating position among the
powers. Through the aggressiveness of Louis XIV and his ministers
her boundaries had been pushed eastward and westward, which seriously
threatened the balance of power on the continent. Until 1748 England
and Austria had been in alliance against their traditional enemy, while
in the Austrian Succession France had lent her aid to Prussia in the
dismemberment of the Austrian dominions,—at the same time extending
her own power in the interior of America and India. In the interval of
nominal peace after the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748, preparations
were begun for another contest. The astute diplomacy of Kaunitz won
France from her traditional enmity and secured her as an open ally for
Maria Theresa in her war of revenge.[1] While the European situation
was giving occasion for new alignments of powers, affairs in America
were becoming more and more important as between France and England.
Here for over a century the two powers had been rivals for the
territorial and commercial supremacy.
In North America the pioneers had won for her the greater part of
the continent,—the extensive valleys of the St. Lawrence and the
Mississippi with all the land watered by their tributaries. The
French claim to this region was based almost entirely upon discovery
and exploration, for in all its extent less than one thousand
people were permanently settled. Canada at the north and the region
about New Orleans on the extreme south containing the bulk of the
population, while throughout the old Northwest settlements were few and
scattering.[2] Trading posts and small villages existed at Vincennes
on the Wabash River, at Detroit on a river of the same name, at
St. Joseph near Lake Michigan and other isolated places. Outside of
Detroit, the most important and populous settlement was situated along
the eastern bank of the Mississippi, in the southwestern part of the
present state of Illinois. Here were the villages of Kaskaskia, St.
Phillippe, Prairie du Rocher, Chartres village and Cahokia, containing
a population of barely two thousand people.
In contrast to this vast area of French territory and the sparseness
of its population were the British colonies,
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Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]
Copyright, 1896, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
* * * * *
PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JANUARY 7, 1896. FIVE CENTS A COPY.
VOL. XVII.--NO. 845. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
CRESSY'S NEW-YEAR'S RENT.
BY L. A. TEREBEL.
Fred Hallowell was sitting at his desk in the _Gazette_ office, looking
listlessly out into the City Hall Park, where the biting wind was making
the snowflakes dance madly around the leafless trees and in the empty
fountain, and he was almost wishing that there would be so few
assignments to cover as to allow him an afternoon in-doors to write
"specials." The storm was the worst of the season, and as this was the
last day of December, it looked as if the old year were going out with a
tumultuous train of sleet and snow. But if he had seriously entertained
any hopes of enjoying a quiet day, these were dispelled by an office-boy
who summoned him to the city desk.
"Good-morning, Mr. Hallowell," said the city editor, cheerfully. "Here
is a clipping from an afternoon paper which says that a French family in
Houston Street has been dispossessed and is in want. Mr. Wilson called
my attention to it because he thinks, from the number given, the house
belongs to old Q. C. Baggold. We don't like Baggold, you know, and if
you find he is treating his tenants unfairly we can let you have all the
space you want to show him up. At any rate, go over there and see what
the trouble is; there is not much going on to-day."
Fred took the clipping and read it as he walked back to his desk. It was
very short--five or six lines only--and the facts stated were about as
the city editor had said. The young man got into his overcoat and
wrapped himself up warmly, and in a few moments was himself battling
against the little blizzard with the other pedestrians whom he had been
watching in the City Hall Park from the office windows.
When he reached Houston Street he travelled westward for several blocks,
until he came into a very poor district crowded with dingy
tenement-houses that leaned against one another in an uneven sort of
way, as if they were tired of the sad kind of life they had been
witnessing for so many years. The snow that had piled up on the
window-sills and over the copings seemed to brighten up the general
aspect of the quarter, because it filled in the cracks and chinks of
material misery, and made the buildings look at least temporarily
picturesque, just as paint and powder for a time may hide the traces of
old age and sorrow. Fred found the number 179 painted on a piece of tin
that had become bent and rusty from long service over a narrow doorway,
and as he stood there comparing it with the number given in his
clipping, a little girl with a shawl drawn tightly over her head and
around her thin little shoulders came out of the dark entrance and
stopped on the door-sill for a moment, surprised, no doubt, at the sight
of the tall rosy-cheeked young man so warmly clad in a big woollen
overcoat that you could have wrapped her up in several times, with goods
left over to spare.
"Hello! little girl," said Fred, quickly. "Does Mr. Cressy live here?"
The child stared for a few seconds at the stranger, and then she
answered, bashfully, "Yes, sir. But he has got to go away."
"But he hasn't gone yet?" continued Fred; and then noticing that the
child, in her short calico skirt, was shivering from the cold, and that
her feet were getting wet with the snow, he added, "Come inside a minute
and tell me where I can find Mr Cressy."
The two stepped into the dark narrow hallway that ran through the house
to the stairway in the rear, where a narrow window with a broken pane
let in just enough light to prove there was day outside. The little girl
leaned against the wall, and looked up at the reporter as if she
suspected him of having no good intentions toward the man for whom he
was inquiring. Very few strangers ever came into that house to do good,
she knew. Most of them came for money--rent money--and sometimes they
came, as a man had come for Mr. Cressy, to tell him he must go.
"What floor does he live on?" asked Fred.
"On the fifth floor, sir," answered the child. "In the back, sir. But I
think he is really going away, sir."
"Well, no matter about that," said Fred, smiling. "I will go up and see
him. I hope he won't have to go out in the storm. It is not good for
little girls to go out in the storm, either," he added. "Does your mamma
know you are going out?"
"Oh yes, sir! She has sent me to the Sisters to try to get some
medicine."
"Is she sick?" asked Fred, quickly.
"Yes, sir," continued the child.
"What floor does she live on? I will stop in and see her."
"Oh, you'll see her! She's in the room, too."
"Then you are Mr. Cressy's little girl?"
"Yes, sir."
So Fred patted her on the head and told her to hurry over to the Sisters
in Eleventh Street, and gave her ten cents to ride in the horse-cars;
and then he opened the door for her, and as soon as she had left he felt
his way back to the staircase and climbed to the fifth floor.
There he knocked upon a door, which was soon opened by a man apparently
forty years of age, a man of slightly foreign appearance, with a
careworn look, but with as honest a face as you could find anywhere.
"Is this Mr. Cressy?" asked Fred.
"Yes, my name's Cressy," replied the man. He spoke with so slight an
accent that it was hardly noticeable.
"I am a reporter from the _Gazette_," continued Fred.
"Oh!" said the man. "Come in," and as he spoke he looked somewhat
embarrassed and anxious, for this was doubtless the first time he had
had any dealings with a newspaper. Lying on a bed in an alcove was a
woman who looked very ill, and piled in a corner near the door were a
couple of boxes and a few pieces of furniture. The stove had not yet
been taken down, and some pale embers in it only just kept the chill off
the atmosphere. Fred took off his hat, and led the man across the room
toward the window.
"Have you been dispossessed?" he asked.
"Yes," said the man, "we must leave to-night."
"Why?" asked the reporter.
Cressy smiled in a ghastly sort of way.
"Because," he replied--"because I have not a cent to my name, sir, and
the landlord has got it in for me--and I must go."
"Who is your landlord?" asked the reporter.
"Baggold--Q. C. Baggold, the shoe-man."
"How much do you owe?"
"Twenty dollars--two months' rent."
"Were you ever in arrears before?"
"Never."
"What's the trouble? Out of work?"
"Yes, sir, I have been. But I've got a job now, and I'll have money on
the tenth of the month. But that is not it."
"What is 'it,' then?" continued Fred.
"Well, I'll tell you. I don't want this in the paper, but I'll tell you
Baggold hates me. He knows the woman's sick, and he takes advantage of
my owing him to drive me out. Do you want to know why? Well, I'll tell
you. I worked for him for five years, sir, in his shoe-factory. He
brought me over from France to do the fine work. He had a lawsuit about
six months ago, and he offered me $500 to lie for him on the stand. I
would not do it, sir, and when they called me as a witness I told the
truth, and that settled the case, and Baggold had to pay £10,000, sir,
for a sly game on a contract. Then he sent me off, and I've been looking
for a job, and I've got behind, and I'm just getting up again, and here
he is sending me out into the snow! To-morrow is what we call at home,
in France, the _jour de l'an_--the day of the New Year, sir, and it is a
fête. And the little one, here, always looked forward to that day, sir,
for a doll or a few sweetmeats; but this time--I don't think she'll have
a roof for her little head! I have not a place in the world to go to,
sir, but to the police station, and there's the woman on her back!"
Two big tears rolled down the man's cheeks. Fred felt a lump rising in
his throat, and he knew that if he had had twenty dollars in his pocket
he would have given it to Cressy. But he did not have twenty dollars, so
he coughed vigorously, and put on his hat quickly, and said:
"Well, this is hard, Mr. Cressy. I'll see what we can do. I must go up
town for a while, and then I'll come back and see you. Don't move out in
this storm till the last minute."
As he rushed down the stairs he met the little girl coming back with a
big blue bottle of something with a yellow label on it. He stopped and
pulled a quarter out of his pocket, thrust it into the child's hand, and
leaped on down the stairs, leaving the little girl more frightened than
surprised, as he dashed out into the snow.
He entered the first drug-store he came to and looked up Q. C. Baggold's
address in the directory. It was nearly four o'clock, and he argued the
rich shoe-manufacturer would be at his home. The address given in the
directory was in a broad street in the fashionable quarter of the city.
Half an hour later Fred was pulling at Mr. Baggold's door-bell. The
butler who answered the summons thought Mr. Baggold was in, and took
Fred's card after showing the young man into the parlor. This was a
large elegantly furnished room filled with costly ornaments, almost
anyone of which, if offered for sale, would have brought the amount of
Cressy's debt, or much more.
Presently Mr. Baggold came into the room. He was a short man with a bald
head and a sharp nose, and his small eyes were fixed very close to one
another under a not very high forehead.
"I am a reporter from the _Gazette_," began Fred at once. "I have called
to see you, Mr. Baggold, about this man Cressy whom you have ordered to
be dispossessed."
"Ah, yes," said Mr. Baggold, smiling. "My agent has told me something
about this matter, but I hardly think it is of sufficient importance to
be of interest to the readers of the _Gazette_."
"The readers of the _Gazette_," continued Fred, "are always interested
in good deeds, Mr. Baggold, and especially when these are performed by
rich men. I came here hoping you would disavow the action of your agent,
and say that the Cressys might remain in the room."
"Nonsense!" replied Mr. Baggold, "I cannot interfere with my agent. I
pay him to take care of my rents, and I can't be looking after fellows
who won't pay. This man Cressy is in arrears, and he must get out."
"But his wife is sick," argued Fred.
"Bah!" retorted the other. "That is an old excuse. These scoundrels try
all sorts of dodges to cheat a man whom they think has money."
"This woman is actually sick, Mr. Baggold," said Fred, severely, "and to
drive her out in a storm like this is positive cruelty."
"Cressy has had two weeks to find other quarters, and to-morrow is the
first of the month. I can't keep him any longer."
"Yes, to-morrow is the great French fête-day, and you put Cressy in the
street."
"My dear sir," returned the rich man, "I cannot allow sentiment to
interfere with my business. If I did I should never collect rents in
Houston Street. And, as I told you before, I do not see that this
question is one to interest the public. It is purely a matter of my
private business."
"Very true," replied Fred; "but I don't think it would look well in
print."
This statement seemed to startle Mr. Baggold a little, and Fred thought
it made him feel uncomfortable. There was a brief silence, after which
the rich man said:
"It would depend entirely upon how you put it in print. To tell you the
truth, I am not at all in favor of these sensational articles that so
many newspapers publish nowadays. Reporters often jump at conclusions
before they are familiar with the facts of a case, and it makes things
disagreeable for all concerned. Now, if you will only listen to me, sir,
I think we can come to an understanding about this Cressy matter. I
don't want anything about it to get into the papers--especially now. I
have many reasons, but I cannot give them to you. Yet I think we can
come to an understanding," he repeated, as he looked at Fred and smiled.
"How?" asked the reporter.
"Well," drawled Mr. Baggold, "there are some points that I may be able
to explain to you. Of course I don't want to put you to any trouble for
nothing. If it is worth something to me not to have notoriety thrust
upon me, of course, on the other hand, it might be worth something to
you to cause the notoriety. But just excuse me a moment."
Mr. Baggold arose hastily and stepped into a rear room, apparently his
library or study.
"H'm," thought Fred to himself. "This old chap talks as though he were
going to offer me money. I'd just like to see him try! I'd give him such
a roasting as he has never had before! Some of these crooked old
millionaires think that sort of thing works with reporters, but I'll
show him that it does not. I have never known a newspaper man yet that
would accept a bribe."
And as Fred mused in this fashion, Mr. Baggold returned. He bore a long
yellow envelope in his hand.
"Here," he said, "are some papers and other things that I should like to
have you look over before you write the article. I think they will
influence you in your opinion of the matter. I am sorry I cannot tell
you any more just now, but I have an appointment which I must keep. Take
these papers and look them over at your leisure, and if you find later
this evening that they are not satisfactory, I will talk with you
further. Good-afternoon, sir. I hope you will excuse me for the
present."
And so saying he handed the envelope to Fred, bowed pleasantly, and left
the room. Fred had been standing near the door, and so he put the
envelope in his pocket and went out. He walked a few blocks down the
street, and went into the large hotel on the corner in order to get out
of the storm and to find some quiet place where he might look over Mr.
Baggold's documents. He was very curious to see what they could be. He
found a seat in a secluded corner of the office, and there tore open the
envelope. To his disgust, it contained three ten-dollar bills, and a
brief note, unsigned, which read,
"The accompanying papers will show you that the matter we spoke of
is not of sufficient importance to be published."
Fred Hallowell was furious. This was the first time in his brief career
as a newspaper man that anything like this had happened to him. He grew
red in the face, his fingers twitched, and he felt as if he had never
before been so grossly insulted. As he sat in his chair, fuming and
wondering what he should do, Griggs, the fat and jolly political
reporter of the _Gazette_, came up to him and said, laughing,
"Well, you look as if you were plotting murder!"
"I am--almost!" exclaimed Fred, and then he told Griggs all about what
had happened.
Griggs listened patiently, and at the end he chuckled to himself, and
said: "Well, Hallowell, don't waste any righteous wrath on any such
stuff as that Baggold. I'll tell you how to get even with him." And then
he talked for twenty minutes to the younger man.
At the end of the conference Fred smiled and buttoned his coat, and
hastened back to Cressy's room in Houston Street. He found a Sister of
Charity there nursing the sick woman. Cressy came to the door, pale and
eager.
"Well?" he said, nervously.
"Oh, it's all right," returned Fred, laughing. "I have just seen Mr.
Baggold. He said his agent was perfectly right in having you
dispossessed, because that was business; but when he heard what I had to
say, he gave me this money." And here Fred handed out the thirty
dollars. "It is for you to pay the agent with, and then you can keep
your room, and you will have ten dollars besides."
Cressy was speechless. The sick woman wept softly. The Sister said
something in Latin, and the little girl just looked; she did not
understand what it was all about.
"You see," said Fred to Cressy, "I suppose Mr. Baggold does not want his
business to be interfered with by his sentiment." And before Cressy
could reply the reporter had slipped out of the door, and in a moment
was hurrying down town to his office.
The next morning--New-Year's morning--the
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[Illustration: Compare the unfavorable artificial environment of
a crowded city with the more favorable environment of the
country.]
A CIVIC BIOLOGY
Presented in Problems
BY
GEORGE WILLIAM HUNTER, A.M.
HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGY, DE WITT CLINTON
HIGH SCHOOL, CITY OF NEW YORK.
AUTHOR OF "ELEMENTS OF BIOLOGY," "ESSENTIALS OF
BIOLOGY," ETC.
[Illustration: Printer's Logo]
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
GEORGE WILLIAM HUNTER.
COPYRIGHT, 1914, IN GREAT BRITAIN.
* * * * *
HUNTER, CIVIC BIOLOGY.
W. P. 3
Dedicated
TO MY
FELLOW TEACHERS
OF THE DEPARTMENT OF BIOLOGY
IN THE DE WITT CLINTON HIGH SCHOOL
WHOSE CAPABLE, EARNEST, UNSELFISH
AND INSPIRING AID HAS MADE
THIS BOOK POSSIBLE
FOREWORD TO TEACHERS
A course in biology given to beginners in the secondary school should have
certain aims. These aims must be determined to a degree, first, by the
capabilities of the pupils, second, by their native interests, and, third,
by the environment of the pupils.
The boy or girl of average ability upon admission to the secondary school
is not a thinking individual. The training given up to this time, with but
rare exceptions, has been in the forming of simple concepts. These concepts
have been reached didactically and empirically. Drill and memory work have
been the pedagogic vehicles. Even the elementary science work given has
resulted at the best in an interpretation of some of the common factors in
the pupil's environment, and a widening of the meaning of some of his
concepts. Therefore, the first science of the secondary school, elementary
biology, should be primarily the vehicle by which the child is taught to
solve problems and to think straight in so doing. No other subject is more
capable of logical development. No subject is more vital because of its
relation to the vital things in the life of the child. A series of
experiments and demonstrations, discussed and applied as definite concrete
problems which have arisen within the child's horizon, will develop power
in thinking more surely than any other subject in the first year of the
secondary school.
But in our eagerness to develop the power of logical thinking we must not
lose sight of the previous training of our pupil. Up to this time the
method of induction, that handmaiden of logical thought, has been almost
unknown. Concepts have been formed deductively by a series of comparisons.
All concepts have been handed down by the authority of the teacher or the
text; the inductive search for the unknown is as yet a closed book. It is
unwise, then, to directly introduce the pupil to the method of induction
with a series of printed directions which, though definite in the mind of
the teacher because of his wider horizon, mean little or nothing as a
definite problem to the pupil. The child must be brought to the
appreciation of the problem through the deductive method, by a comparison
of the future problem with some definite concrete experience within his own
field of vision. Then by the inductive experiment, still led by a series of
oral questions, he comes to the real end of the experiment, the conclusion,
with the true spirit of the investigator. The result is tested in the light
of past experiment and a generalization is formed which means something to
the pupil.
For the above reason the laboratory problems, which naturally precede the
textbook work, should be separated from the subject matter of the text. A
textbook in biology should serve to verify the student's observations made
in the laboratory, it should round out his concept or generalization by
adding such material as he cannot readily observe and it should give the
student directly such information as he cannot be expected to gain directly
or indirectly through his laboratory experience. For these reasons the
laboratory manual has been separated from the text.
"The laboratory method was such an emancipation from the
old-time bookish slavery of pre-laboratory days that we may
have been inclined to overdo it and to subject ourselves to
a new slavery. It should never be forgotten that the
laboratory is simply a means to the end; that the dominant
thing should be a consistent chain of ideas which the
laboratory may serve to elucidate. When, however, the
laboratory assumes the first place and other phases of the
course are made explanatory to it, we have taken, in my
mind, an attitude fundamentally wrong. The question is, not
what _types_ may be taken up in the laboratory to be fitted
into the general scheme afterwards, but what _ideas_ are
most worth while to be worked out and developed
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Transcriber's Note.
Apparent typographical errors have been corrected. The inconsistent
use of hyphens has been retained.
Italics are indicated by _underscores_. Small capitals have been
replaced by full capitals.
[Illustration: CONVENT OF SOLOVETSK IN THE FROZEN SEA.]
[Illustration: RUSSIAN INFANTRY ON EASTERN STEPPE ESCORTED BY KOZAKS
AND KIRGHIZ.]
FREE RUSSIA.
BY
WILLIAM HEPWORTH DIXON.
AUTHOR OF
"FREE AMERICA." "HER MAJESTY'S TOWER." &c.
[Illustration]
_NEW YORK_:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS.
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
1870.
PREFACE.
_Svobodnaya_ Rossia--_Free_ Russia--is a word on every lip in that
great country; at once the Name and Hope of the new empire born of the
Crimean war. In past times Russia was free, even as Germany and France
were free. She fell before Asiatic hordes; and the Tartar system
lasted, in spirit, if not in form, until the war; but since that
conflict ended, the old Russia has been born again. This new
country--hoping to be pacific, meaning to be Free--is what I have
tried to paint.
My journeys, just completed, carried me from the Polar Sea to the Ural
Mountains, from the mouth of the Vistula to the Straits of Yeni Kale,
including visits to the four holy shrines of Solovetsk, Pechersk, St.
George, and Troitsa. My object being to paint the Living People, I
have much to say about pilgrims, monks, and parish priests; about
village justice, and patriarchal life; about beggars, tramps, and
sectaries; about Kozaks, Kalmuks, and Kirghiz; about workmen's artels,
burgher rights, and the division of land; about students' revolts and
soldiers' grievances; in short, about the Human Forces which underlie
and shape the external politics of our time.
Two journeys made in previous years have helped me to judge the
reforms which are opening out the Japan-like empire of Nicolas into
the Free Russia of the reigning prince.
_February, 1870._
_6 St. James's Terrace._
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I.--UP NORTH 11
II.--THE FROZEN SEA 16
III.--THE DVINA 20
IV.--ARCHANGEL 24
V.--RELIGIOUS LIFE 29
VI.--PILGRIMS 34
VII.--FATHER JOHN 40
VIII.--THE VLADIKA 46
IX.--A PILGRIM-BOAT 51
X.--THE HOLY ISLES 57
XI.--THE LOCAL SAINTS 62
XII.--A MONASTIC HOUSEHOLD 68
XIII.--A PILGRIM'S DAY 73
XIV.--PRAYER AND LABOR 78
XV.--BLACK CLERGY 84
XVI.--SACRIFICE 91
XVII.--MIRACLES 96
XVIII.--THE GREAT MIRACLE 103
XIX.--A CONVENT SPECTRE 110
XX.--STORY OF A GRAND DUKE 114
XXI.--DUNGEONS 118
XXII.--NICOLAS ILYIN 124
XXIII.--ADRIAN PUSHKIN 130
XXIV.--DISSENT 135
XXV.--NEW SECTS 142
XXVI.--MORE NEW SECTS 146
XXVII.--THE POPULAR CHURCH 151
XXVIII.--OLD BELIEVERS 158
XXIX.--A FAMILY OF OLD BELIEVERS 161
XXX.--CEMETERY OF THE TRANSFIGURATION 167
XXXI.--RAGOSKI 173
XXXII.--DISSENTING POLITICS 179
XXXIII.--CONCILIATION 183
XXXIV.--ROADS 187
XXXV.--A PEASANT POET 192
XXXVI.--FOREST SCENES 197
XXXVII.--PATRIARCHAL LIFE 202
XXXVIII.--VILLAGE REPUBLICS 208
XXXIX.--COMMUNISM 213
XL.--TOWNS 218
XLI.--KIEF 222
XLII.--PANSLAVONIA 225
XLIII.--EXILE 229
XLIV.--THE SIBERIANS 235
XLV.--ST. GEORGE 241
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Sunday-School Success
Sunday-School Success
A Book of Practical Methods
for Sunday-School Teachers
and Officers
By
Amos R. Wells
Author of "Business," "When Thou Hast Shut Thy
Door," "Social Evenings," etc.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO
Fleming H. Revell Company
Publishers of Evangelical Literature
Copyright, 1897, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
THE NEW YORK TYPE-SETTING COMPANY
THE CAXTON PRESS
Preface
In these pages I have described the methods of the most successful
teachers and Sunday-schools I have known. While a large part of the
book is the direct fruit of my own experience in Sabbath and secular
schools, it sets forth, as every teacher will understand, what I have
learned from my failures rather than from my successes.
Though the volume has something to say on all the great Sunday-school
problems, it does not pretend to be a complete manual; indeed, who
could prepare one on so stupendous a theme? If it justifies its
appearance among the admirable treatises already published for
Sunday-school workers, it will be because it presents with frankness
the methods found helpful by an average teacher, who never had charge
of a large school or a large class, but in district school, small
college, and small Sunday-school has struggled with the practical
problems of a teacher, and in some of them at least, like Sentimental
Tommy, has "found a way."
A
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E-text prepared by Chuck Greif and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
http://www.archive.org/details/grandeenovel00palaiala
[Illustration: book cover]
Heinemann's International Library
Edited by Edmund Gosse
THE GRANDEE
ARMANDO PALACIO VALDES
THE GRANDEE
* * * * * *
_Heinemann's International Library._
Edited by EDMUND GOSSE.
_Crown 8vo, in paper covers, 2s. 6d., or cloth limp, 3s. 6d._
1. _IN GOD'S WAY._ From the Norwegian of
BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON
2. _PIERRE AND JEAN._ From the French of
GUY DE MAUPASSANT.
3. _THE CHIEF JUSTICE._ From the German
of KARL EMIL FRANZOS.
4. _WORK WHILE YE HAVE THE LIGHT._
From the Russian of COUNT LYOF TOLSTOI.
5. _FANTASY._ From the Italian of MATILDE
SERAO.
6. _FROTH._ From the Spanish of DON ARMANDO
PALACIO VALDES.
7. _FOOTSTEPS OF FATE._ From the Dutch
of LOUIS COUPERUS.
8. _PEPITA JIMENEZ._ From the Spanish of
JUAN VALERA.
9. _THE COMMODORE'S DAUGHTERS._ From
the Norwegian of JONAS LIE.
10. _THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS._ From
the Norwegian of BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON.
11. _LOU._ From the German of BARON VON
ROBERTS.
12. _DONA LUZ._ From the Spanish of JUAN
VALERA.
13. _THE JEW._ From the Polish of JOSEPH I.
KRASZEWSKI.
14. _UNDER THE YOKE._ From the Bulgarian
of IVAN VAZOFF.
15. _FAREWELL LOVE!_ From the Italian of
MATILDE SERAO.
16. _THE GRANDEE._ From the Spanish of DON
ARMANDO PALACIO VALDES.
_In preparation._
_A COMMON STORY._ From the Russian of
GONCHAROF.
_NIOBE._ From the Norwegian of JONAS LIE.
_Each Volume contains a specially written Introduction by the Editor._
LONDON: W. HEINEMANN, 21 BEDFORD ST., W.C.
* * * * * *
THE GRANDEE
A Novel
by
ARMANDO PALACIO VALDES
Translated from the Spanish by Rachel Challice
[Illustration: logo]
London
William Heinemann
1894
[_All rights reserved_]
INTRODUCTION
According to the Spanish critics, the novel has flourished in Spain
during only two epochs--the golden age of Cervantes and the period in
which we are still living. That unbroken line of romance-writing which
has existed for so long a time in France and in England, is not to be
looked for in the Peninsula. The novel in Spain is a re-creation of our
own days; but it has made, since the middle of the nineteenth century,
two or three fresh starts. The first modern Spanish novelists were what
are called the _walter-scottistas_, although they were inspired as much
by George Sand as by the author of _Waverley_. These writers were of a
romantic order, and Fernan Caballero, whose earliest novel dates from
1849, was at their head. The Revolution of September, 1868, marked an
advance in Spanish fiction, and Valera came forward as the leader of a
more national and more healthily vitalised species of imaginative work.
The pure and exquisite style of Valera is, doubtless, only to be
appreciated by a Castilian. Something of its charm may be divined,
however, even in the English translation of his masterpiece, _Pepita
Jimenez_. The mystical and aristocratic genius of Valera appealed to a
small audience; he has confided to the world that when all were praising
but few were buying his books.
Far greater fecundity and a more directly successful appeal to the
public, were, somewhat later, the characteristics of Perez y Galdos,
whose vigorous novels, spoiled a little for a foreign reader by their
didactic diffuseness, are well-known in this country. In the hands of
Galdos, a further step was taken by Spanish fiction towards the
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[Illustration: MAJOR-GENERAL BROCK.
(_From miniature painting by J. Hudson._)
Copyrighted in the U. S. A. and Canada.
--From Nursey's "Story of Isaac Brock" (Briggs).]
BROCK CENTENARY
1812-1912
ACCOUNT OF THE CELEBRATION AT
QUEENSTON HEIGHTS, ONTARIO,
ON THE 12th OCTOBER, 1912
ALEXANDER FRASER, LL.D.
Editor
TORONTO
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED FOR THE COMMITTEE BY
WILLIAM BRIGGS
1913
DEDICATED
TO
THE DESCENDANTS OF THE DEFENDERS
Copyright, Canada, 1913, by
ALEXANDER FRASER
PREFATORY NOTE
The object of this publication is to preserve an account of the
Celebration, at Queenston Heights, of the Brock Centenary, in a more
convenient and permanent form than that afforded by the reports
(admirable as they are) in the local newspapers.
Celebrations were held in several places in Ontario, notably at St.
Thomas, where Dr. J. H. Coyne delivered a fervently patriotic address.
Had reports of these been available, extended reference would have been
gladly and properly accorded to them in this book. Considerable effort,
involving delay in publication, was made to secure the name of every
person who attended at Queenston Heights in a representative capacity,
and the list is probably complete.
For valuable assistance acknowledgment is due to Colonel Ryerson,
Chairman of the General and Executive Committees; to Miss Helen M.
Merrill, Honorary Secretary, and to Mr. Angus Claude Macdonell, K.C.,
M.P., Toronto. Also to Mr. Walter R. Nursey, for the use of the pictures
of General Brock, Col. Macdonell, and Brock's Monument, from his
interesting work: "The Story of Brock," in the Canadian Heroes Series;
and to the Ontario Archives, Toronto, for the use of the picture of the
first monument erected to Brock on Queenston Heights.
ALEXANDER FRASER.
[Illustration: From a Silhouette in possession of John Alexander
Macdonnell, K.C., Alexandria.
LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOHN MACDONELL.
Provincial Aide-de-Camp to Major-General Sir Isaac Brock; M.P. for
Glengarry; Attorney-General of Upper Canada.
--From Nursey's "Story of Isaac Brock" (Briggs).]
CONTENTS
PAGE
Prefatory Note 3
Introduction--J. Stewart Carstairs, B.A. 9
Preliminary Steps 21
General Committee Formed 25
Programme Adopted 26
Reports of Committees 29
Celebrating the Day 32
At Queenston Heights--
Representatives Present 34
Floral Decorations 40
A Unique Scene 42
Historic Flags and Relics 43
Letters of Regret for Absence 44
The Speeches--
Colonel G. Sterling Ryerson 45
Mr. Angus Claude Macdonell, M.P. 50
Hon. Dr. R. A. Pyne, M.P.P. 55
Colonel George T. Denison 58
Mr. J. A. Macdonell, K.C. 61
Dr. James L. Hughes 67
Chief A. G. Smith 71
Warrior F. Onondeyoh Loft 74
Mr. Charles R. McCullough 75
Appendix I.--Highland Heroes in the War of 1812-14
--Dr. Alexander Fraser 77
Appendix II.--Programme of Toronto Garrison Service
in Massey Hall 82
Appendix III.--Indian Contributions to the Reconstruction
of Brock's Monument 88
Appendix IV.--Meetings of the Executive Committee
subsequent to the Celebration 91
Appendix V.--Captain Joseph Birney 93
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Major-General Brock _Frontispiece_
Lieutenant-Colonel John Macdonell, Provincial Aide-de-Camp
to Major-General Sir Isaac Brock 5
Executive Committee 28
First Monument to General Brock at Queenston Heights 33
Brock's Monument 34
Central section of a panoramic picture of the gathering at
Queenston Heights 36
Floral Tribute placed on Cenotaph, where Brock fell, by the
Guernsey Society, Toronto 38
Brock Centenary Celebration at Queenston Heights 38
Memorial Wreaths placed on the Tombs, at Queenston Heights,
of Major-General Sir Isaac Brock, Kt., and Colonel John
Macdonell, P.A.D.C., Attorney-General of Upper Canada 41
Wreath placed on Brock's Monument in St. Paul's Cathedral,
London, Eng., by the Government of Canada 42
Wreath placed on Brock's Monument, Queenston Heights, by
the Imperial Order of the Daughters of the Empire 42
Conferring Tribal Membership on Miss Helen M. Merrill 43
Six Nation Indians celebrating Brock's Centenary at Queenston
Heights 44
Colonel George Sterling Ryerson, Chairman of Committee 45
Angus Claude Macdonell, K.C., M.P., addressing the gathering 51
Hon. R. A. Pyne, M.D., M.P.P., Minister of Education of Ontario 58
James L. Hughes, LL.D., Chief Inspector of Schools, Toronto 58
Colonel George T. Denison, Toronto 58
J. A. Macdonell, K.C., Glengarry, addressing the gathering 61
Chief A. G. Smith, Six Nation Indians, Grand River Reserve 71
Captain Charles R. McCullough, Hamilton, Ont. 71
Warrior F. Onondeyoh Loft, Six Nation Indians, Toronto 71
Members of Committee at Queenston Heights 77
Group of Indians (Grand River Reserve) celebrating Brock's
Centenary at Queenston Heights 88
Captain Joseph Birnie 93
INTRODUCTION
BROCK AND QUEENSTON
By John Stewart Carstairs, B.A., Toronto
Brock's fame and Brock's name will never die in our history. The past
one hundred years have settled that. And in this glory the craggy
heights of Queenston, where in their splendid mausoleum Brock and
Macdonell sleep side by side their last sleep, will always have its
share. Strangely enough, who ever associates Brock's name with Detroit?
Yet, here was a marvellous achievement: the left wing of the enemy's
army annihilated, its eloquent and grandiose leader captured and two
thousand five hundred men and abundant military stores, with the State
of Michigan thrown in!
But Britain in those days was so busy doing things that we a hundred
years later can scarcely realize them. However, so much of our historic
perspective has been settled during the past hundred years. Perhaps in
another hundred years, when other generations come together to
commemorate the efforts of these men that with Brock and Macdonell
strove to seek and find and do and not to yield, the skirmish at
Queenston may be viewed in a different light.
Perhaps then the British Constitution will have bridged the oceans and
the "Seven Seas"; perhaps then Canada will be more British than Britain
itself--the very core, the centre, the heart of the Empire in territory
and population, in wealth and in influence, in spirit and in vital
activities. Then Queenston Heights may be regarded not merely as a
victory that encouraged Canadians to fight for their homes but as a
far-reaching world-event.
The year of Queenston, let us remember, was the year of Salamanca and of
Moscow--the most glorious year in British military annals. But what has
Salamanca to do with Canada? Britain was fighting alone, not merely for
the freedom of Britons but for the freedom of Europe. Since 1688 she had
been for more than one-half of the one hundred and twenty-four years
actively in arms against France. Since 1793 there had been peace--and
only nominal peace--_against_ France for only the two years following
the Treaty of Amiens (1801). The generation approaching maturity in 1812
had been born and had grown up "in wars and rumours of wars." In this
struggle against France and later against Napoleon, the Motherland had
increased the National Debt by L500,000,000, or nearly twenty-five
hundred millions of dollars; she had spent every cent she could gather
and taxed her posterity to this extent. That is what Britain had done
for her children--and for the world at large!
But ever since Jefferson had purchased (1803) Louisiana from Napoleon
the United States had found she was less dependent on Britain.
Accordingly, Jefferson grew more and more unfriendly. And now in 1812,
the world campaign of Napoleon had spread to America. He had hoped for
this, but on different lines. He had planned for it, but those plans had
failed.
"The War of 1812-14," as we call it, was merely a phase, a section, of
the greatest struggle in the history of mankind--the struggle of Britain
against the aggrandisement and cheap ambition of Napoleon to become the
Dictator of Europe and the civilized world. Brock, though invited to
take a share in the long drawn out contest in Spain, decided--fortunately
for us--to remain in Canada.
The year 1812 was the climax of the war with Napoleon--the most
splendid, as we have said, of all years in British military
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MASTER SUNSHINE
BY
MRS. C. F. FRASER
CONTENTS.
I. WHO HE WAS
II. THE WANDERER AND HIS WIFE
III. THE RAINY DAY
IV. A SUNDAY WITH FATHER
V. BEING A HERO
VI. KIND DEEDS
VII. A HAPPY ENDING
CHAPTER I.
WHO HE WAS.
Of course his real name was not Master Sunshine.
Who ever heard of a boy with a name like that?
But his mother said that long before he could speak he chose the
name for himself, for even as a baby he was full of a cheery good
humor that was always sparkling out in his winning smiles and his
rippling laugh. He was a good-natured, happy child from the time
that he could toddle about; and he was very young when he began to
give pleasure to his friends by serving them in all the little
ways within his power.
The very golden curls that topped his small head glistened as if
they had caught and imprisoned the glory of the morning sun; and
it really did seem as if a better name could not be found for the
merry, helpful little fellow than Master Sunshine.
His real name was a very different affair--Frederick Alexander
Norton--and his boy friends called him Freddy for short. His
little sister Lucy called him "buzzer" and Suns'ine; and Almira
Jane, the help, who made the brownest and crispest of molasses
cookies, and the most delicious twisted doughnuts, said he was a
"swate angel of light," except at such times as she called him a
"rascalpion."
Master Sunshine never stopped to argue with Almira Jane when she
called him a "rascalpion." He knew that this was a plain sign that
she was getting "nervous;" and when Almira Jane was nervous, it
was always best for small boys to be out of the way.
A little later, when the kitchen floor had been scrubbed, and the
stove polished like a shiny black mirror, and the bread-dough had
been kneaded and set to rise, he knew he would be a welcome
visitor again.
Perhaps that was one of the many reasons why people loved him so.
He was always considerate. He had the good sense not to keep on
asking questions and offering help when it was best to go quietly
away. Somehow he always felt sure that his turn would come
presently, and that Almira Jane would be sorry she had called him
such a hard name, and would be only too pleased to have him look
over the beans for the bean-pot, and fill the wood-box, and do all
the other little kitchen chores that he delighted in.
There were sure to be pleasant times after one of Almira Jane's
nervous attacks. When she was quite over her flurry and worry,
Daisy, the Maltese cat, would crawl out of her hiding-place under
the stove, and arch her tail, and purr contentedly as she rubbed
her long, graceful body against the table-legs; while Gyp, the pet
dog, would hurry in from the dog-house under the shade of the
orchard-trees, and jump on Almira Jane's shoulder, and she would
be as pleased as possible over his knowing ways. At such times
Master Sunshine was very fond of Almira Jane.
He loved Lucy with a steady affection, too, though she pulled his
curls sometimes until he fairly expected to lose the whole of his
golden locks. She needed a great deal of patient amusement, too,
and she was not very considerate of his belongings.
One day he was very angry, and his hand was lifted in anger
against her.
The trouble was that she had torn in two his favorite picture of
elephants in his animal book. The little girl was quite unaware of
the mischief her chubby fingers had wrought, but she knew very
well by the look of Master Sunshine's overcast face that in some
way she had displeased him.
So, pursing up her lips in a smile not unlike his own sunshiny
one, she lisped, in funny imitation of her mother,--
"Never mind, Suns'ine, little sister's sorry;" and, strange to
say, at her words the angry passion left him, and tears of shame
stood in his blue eyes.
"Of course," he said afterwards, in telling the story to his
mother, "I know that Lucy didn't know the sense of what she was
saying, but she did seem to know how to get at the "sensibliness"
of me. Just imagine, mother, how bad we would all have felt if I
had struck my own dear sister that God sent us to take care of!"
And that was so like Master Sunshine. He never willingly gave pain
to any living creature; and although he was sometimes careless and
forgetful, just like other boys, yet he was never known to be
wilfully unkind.
He loved his mother very dearly too, and perhaps it was from her
gentle ways that he had learned to be so thoughtful for others. He
told her all his joys, and all his secrets save one; and he dearly
loved the bedtime hour, when she read to him the stories that he
most admired,--stories of brave deeds were the kind he was always
asking for. But neither of them ever dreamed that the quiet
bedtime hours were teaching him to be a hero.
It did not seem possible that an eight-year-old boy could be a
hero such as one reads of in books.
Of course, he was going to do great things when he was a man. He
meant to make a great fortune, of which half was to be his mother's;
and if she chose to spend it on churches and missionaries and
schools, so much the better.
He was sure she would rather do this than buy herself handsome
dresses and diamond rings and ruby necklaces; and
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Minor inconsistencies in hyphenated words have
been adjusted to correspond with the author's most frequent usage.
On page 60 a printer error from the original text was corrected: the
word "drawings" has been changed to "drawing" in the phrase, "...
drawing has been taught...."
HOW WE THINK
BY
JOHN DEWEY
PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY
D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS
BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT, 1910,
BY D. C. HEATH & CO.
2 F 8
Printed in U. S. A.
PREFACE
Our schools are troubled with a multiplication of studies, each in turn
having its own multiplication of materials and principles. Our teachers
find their tasks made heavier in that they have come to deal with pupils
individually and not merely in mass. Unless these steps in advance are
to end in distraction, some clew of unity, some principle that makes for
simplification, must be found. This book represents the conviction that
the needed steadying and centralizing factor is found in adopting as the
end of endeavor that attitude of mind, that habit of thought, which we
call scientific. This scientific attitude of mind might, conceivably, be
quite irrelevant to teaching children and youth. But this book also
represents the conviction that such is not the case; that the native and
unspoiled attitude of childhood, marked by ardent curiosity, fertile
imagination, and love of experimental inquiry, is near, very near, to
the attitude of the scientific mind. If these pages assist any to
appreciate this kinship and to consider seriously how its recognition in
educational practice would make for individual happiness and the
reduction of social waste, the book will amply have served its purpose.
It is hardly necessary to enumerate the authors to whom I am indebted.
My fundamental indebtedness is to my wife, by whom the ideas of this
book were inspired, and through whose work in connection with the
Laboratory School, existing in Chicago between 1896 and 1903, the ideas
attained such concreteness as comes from embodiment and testing in
practice. It is a pleasure, also, to acknowledge indebtedness to the
intelligence and sympathy of those who cooeperated as teachers and
supervisors in the conduct of that school, and especially to Mrs. Ella
Flagg Young, then a colleague in the University, and now Superintendent
of the Schools of Chicago.
NEW YORK CITY, December, 1909.
CONTENTS
PART I
THE PROBLEM OF TRAINING THOUGHT
CHAPTER PAGE
I. WHAT IS THOUGHT? 1
II. THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT 14
III. NATURAL RESOURCES IN THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 29
IV. SCHOOL CONDITIONS AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 45
V. THE MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING: THE
PSYCHOLOGICAL AND THE LOGICAL 56
PART II
LOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS
VI. THE ANALYSIS OF A COMPLETE ACT OF THOUGHT 68
VII. SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE: INDUCTION AND DEDUCTION 79
VIII. JUDGMENT: THE INTERPRETATION OF FACTS 101
IX. MEANING: OR CONCEPTIONS AND UNDERSTANDING 116
X. CONCRETE AND ABSTRACT THINKING 135
XI. EMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING 145
PART III
THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT
XII. ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 157
XIII. LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 170
XIV. OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION IN THE TRAINING
OF MIND 188
XV. THE RECITATION AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 201
XVI. SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS 214
HOW WE THINK
PART ONE: THE PROBLEM OF TRAINING THOUGHT
CHAPTER ONE
WHAT IS THOUGHT?
Sec. 1. _Varied Senses of the Term_
[Sidenote: Four senses of thought, from the wider to the limited]
No words are oftener on our lips than _thinking_ and _thought_. So
profuse and varied, indeed, is our use of these words that it is not
easy to define just what we mean by them. The aim of this chapter is to
find a single consistent meaning. Assistance may be had by considering
some typical ways in which the terms are employed. In the first place
_thought_ is used broadly, not to say loosely. Everything that comes to
mind, that "goes through our heads," is called a thought. To think of a
thing is just to be conscious of it in any way whatsoever. Second, the
term is restricted by excluding whatever is directly presented; we think
(or think of) only such things as we do not directly see, hear, smell,
or taste. Then, third, the meaning is further limited to beliefs that
rest upon some kind of evidence or testimony. Of this third type, two
kinds--or, rather, two degrees--must be discriminated. In some cases, a
belief is accepted with slight or almost no attempt to state the grounds
that support it. In other cases, the ground or basis for a belief is
deliberately sought and its adequacy to support the belief examined.
This process is called reflective thought; it alone is truly educative
in value, and it forms, accordingly, the principal subject of this
volume. We shall now briefly describe each of the four senses.
[Sidenote: Chance and idle thinking]
I. In its loosest sense, thinking signifies everything that, as we say,
is "in our heads" or that "goes through our minds." He who offers "a
penny for your thoughts" does not expect to drive any great bargain. In
calling the objects of his demand _thoughts_, he does not intend to
ascribe to them dignity, consecutiveness, or truth. Any idle fancy,
trivial recollection, or flitting impression will satisfy his demand.
Daydreaming, building of castles in the air, that loose flux of casual
and disconnected material that floats through our minds in relaxed
moments are, in this random sense, _thinking_. More of our waking life
than we should care to admit, even to ourselves, is likely to be whiled
away in this inconsequential trifling with idle fancy and unsubstantial
hope.
[Sidenote: Reflective thought is consecutive, not merely a sequence]
In this sense, silly folk and dullards _think_. The story is told of a
man in slight repute for intelligence, who, desiring to be chosen
selectman in his New England town, addressed a knot of neighbors in this
wise: "I hear you don't believe I know enough to hold office. I wish you
to understand that I am thinking about something or other most of the
time." Now reflective thought is like this random coursing of things
through the mind in that it consists of a succession of things thought
of; but it is unlike, in that the mere chance occurrence of any chance
"something or other" in an irregular sequence does not suffice.
Reflection involves not simply a sequence of ideas, but a
_con_sequence--a consecutive ordering in such a way that each
determines the next as its proper outcome, while each in turn leans back
on its predecessors. The successive portions of the reflective thought
grow out of one another and support one another; they do not
come and go in a medley. Each phase is a step from something to
something--technically speaking, it is a term of thought. Each term
leaves a deposit which is utilized in the next term. The stream or flow
becomes a train, chain, or thread.
[Sidenote: The restriction of _thinking_ to what goes beyond direct
observation]
[Sidenote: Reflective thought aims, however, at belief]
II. Even when thinking is used in a broad sense, it is usually
restricted to matters not directly perceived: to what we do not see,
smell, hear, or touch. We ask the man telling a story if he saw a
certain incident happen, and his reply may be, "No, I only thought of
it." A note of invention, as distinct from faithful record of
observation, is present. Most important in this class are successions of
imaginative incidents and episodes which, having a certain coherence,
hanging together on a continuous thread, lie between kaleidoscopic
flights of fancy and considerations deliberately employed to establish a
conclusion. The imaginative stories poured forth by children possess all
degrees of internal congruity; some are disjointed, some are
articulated. When connected, they simulate reflective thought; indeed,
they usually occur in minds of logical capacity. These imaginative
enterprises often precede thinking of the close-knit type and prepare
the way for it. But _they do not aim at knowledge, at belief about facts
or in truths_; and thereby they are marked off from reflective thought
even when they most resemble it. Those who express such thoughts do not
expect credence, but rather credit for a well-constructed plot or a
well-arranged climax. They produce good stories, not--unless by
chance--knowledge. Such thoughts are an efflorescence of feeling; the
enhancement of a mood or sentiment is their aim; congruity of emotion,
their binding tie.
[Sidenote: Thought induces belief in two ways]
III. In its next sense, thought denotes belief resting upon some basis,
that is, real or supposed knowledge going beyond what is directly
present. It is marked by _acceptance or rejection of something as
reasonably probable or improbable_. This phase of thought, however,
includes two such distinct types of belief that, even though their
difference is strictly one of degree, not of kind, it becomes
practically important to consider them separately. Some beliefs are
accepted when their grounds have not themselves been considered, others
are accepted because their grounds have been examined.
When we say, "Men used to think the world was flat," or, "I thought you
went by the house," we express belief: something is accepted, held to,
acquiesced in, or affirmed. But such thoughts may mean a supposition
accepted without reference to its real grounds. These may be adequate,
they may not; but their value with reference to the support they afford
the belief has not been considered.
Such thoughts grow up unconsciously and without reference to the
attainment of correct belief. They are picked up--we know not how. From
obscure sources and by unnoticed channels they insinuate themselves into
acceptance and become unconsciously a part of our mental furniture.
Tradition, instruction, imitation--all of which depend upon authority in
some form, or appeal to our own advantage, or fall in with a strong
passion--are responsible for them. Such thoughts are prejudices, that
is, prejudgments, not judgments proper that rest upon a survey of
evidence.[1]
[1] This mode of thinking in its contrast with thoughtful inquiry
receives special notice in the next chapter.
[Sidenote: Thinking in its best sense is that which considers the basis
and consequences of beliefs]
IV. Thoughts that result in belief have an importance attached to them
which leads to reflective thought, to conscious inquiry into the nature,
conditions, and bearings of the belief. To _think_ of whales and camels
in the clouds is to entertain ourselves with fancies, terminable at our
pleasure, which do not lead to any belief in particular. But to think of
the world as flat is to ascribe a quality to a real thing as its real
property. This conclusion denotes a connection among things and hence is
not, like imaginative thought, plastic to our mood. Belief in the
world's flatness commits him who holds it to thinking in certain
specific ways of other objects, such as the heavenly bodies, antipodes,
the possibility of navigation. It prescribes to him actions in
accordance with his conception of these objects.
The consequences of a belief upon other beliefs and upon behavior may be
so important, then, that men are forced to consider the grounds or
reasons of their belief and its logical consequences. This means
reflective thought--thought in its eulogistic and emphatic sense.
[Sidenote: Reflective thought defined]
Men _thought_ the world was flat until Columbus _thought_ it to be
round. The earlier thought was a belief held because men had not the
energy or the courage to question what those about them accepted and
taught, especially as it was suggested and seemingly confirmed by
obvious sensible facts. The thought of Columbus was a _reasoned
conclusion_. It marked the close of study into facts, of scrutiny and
revision of evidence, of working out the implications of various
hypotheses, and of comparing these theoretical results with one another
and with known facts. Because Columbus did not accept unhesitatingly the
current traditional theory, because he doubted and inquired, he arrived
at his thought. Skeptical of what, from long habit, seemed most certain,
and credulous of what seemed impossible, he went on thinking until he
could produce evidence for both his confidence and his disbelief. Even
if his conclusion had finally turned out wrong, it would have been a
different sort of belief from those it antagonized, because it was
reached by a different method. _Active, persistent, and careful
consideration of any belief or supposed form of knowledge in the light
of the grounds that support it, and the further conclusions to which it
tends_, constitutes reflective thought. Any one of the first three kinds
of thought may elicit this type; but once begun, it is a conscious and
voluntary effort to establish belief upon a firm basis of reasons.
Sec. 2. _The Central Factor in Thinking_
[Sidenote: There is a common element in all types of thought:]
There are, however, no sharp lines of demarcation between the various
operations just outlined. The problem of attaining correct habits of
reflection would be much easier than it is, did not the different modes
of thinking blend insensibly into one another. So far, we have
considered rather extreme instances of each kind in order to get the
field clearly before us. Let us now reverse this operation; let us
consider a rudimentary case of thinking, lying between careful
examination of evidence and a mere irresponsible stream of fancies. A
man is walking on a warm day. The sky was clear the last time he
observed it; but presently he notes, while occupied primarily with other
things, that the air is cooler. It occurs to him that it is probably
going to rain; looking up, he sees a dark cloud between him and the
sun, and he then quickens his steps. What, if anything, in such a
situation can be called thought? Neither the act of walking nor the
noting of the cold is a thought. Walking is one direction of activity;
looking and noting are other modes of activity. The likelihood that it
will rain is, however, something _suggested_. The pedestrian _feels_ the
cold; he _thinks of_ clouds and a coming shower.
[Sidenote: _viz._ suggestion of something not observed]
[Sidenote: But reflection involves also the relation of _signifying_]
So far there is the same sort of situation as when one looking at a
cloud is reminded of a human figure and face. Thinking in both of these
cases (the cases of belief and of fancy) involves a noted or perceived
fact, followed by something else which is not observed but which is
brought to mind, suggested by the thing seen. One reminds us, as we say,
of the other. Side by side, however, with this factor of agreement in
the two cases of suggestion is a factor of marked disagreement. We do
not _believe_ in the face suggested by the cloud; we do not consider at
all the probability of its being a fact. There is no _reflective_
thought. The danger of rain, on the contrary, presents itself to us as a
genuine possibility--as a possible fact of the same nature as the
observed coolness. Put differently, we do not regard the cloud as
meaning or indicating a face, but merely as suggesting it, while we do
consider that the coolness may mean rain. In the first case, seeing an
object, we just happen, as we say, to think of something else; in the
second, we consider the _possibility and nature of the connection
between the object seen and the object suggested_. The seen thing is
regarded as in some way _the ground or basis of belief_ in the suggested
thing; it possesses the quality of _evidence_.
[Sidenote: Various synonymous expressions for the function of
signifying]
This function by which one thing signifies or indicates another, and
thereby leads us to consider how far one may be regarded as warrant for
belief in the other, is, then, the central factor in all reflective or
distinctively intellectual thinking. By calling up various situations to
which such terms as _signifies_ and _indicates_ apply, the student will
best realize for himself the actual facts denoted by the words
_reflective thought_. Synonyms for these terms are: points to, tells of,
betokens, prognosticates, represents, stands for, implies.[2] We also
say one thing portends another; is ominous of another, or a symptom of
it, or a key to it, or (if the connection is quite obscure) that it
gives a hint, clue, or intimation.
[2] _Implies_ is more often used when a principle or general truth
brings about belief in some other truth; the other phrases are more
frequently used to denote the cases in which one fact or event leads
us to believe in something else.
[Sidenote: Reflection and belief on evidence]
Reflection thus implies that something is believed in (or disbelieved
in), not on its own direct account, but through something else which
stands as witness, evidence, proof, voucher, warrant; that is, as
_ground of belief_. At one time, rain is actually felt or directly
experienced; at another time, we infer that it has rained from the looks
of the grass and trees, or that it is going to rain because of the
condition of the air or the state of the
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CHAMBERS'S ELEMENTARY SCIENCE MANUALS.
GEOLOGY
BY
JAMES GEIKIE, LL.D., F.R.S.
OF H.M. GEOLOGICAL SURVEY; AUTHOR OF
'THE GREAT ICE AGE.'
[Logo]
W. & R. CHAMBERS
LONDON AND EDINBURGH
1883
Edinburgh:
Printed by W. and R. Chambers.
PREFACE.
The vital importance of diffusing some knowledge of the leading
principles of Science among all classes of society, is becoming daily
more widely and deeply felt; and to meet and promote this important
movement, W. & R. CHAMBERS have resolved on issuing the present Series
of ELEMENTARY SCIENCE MANUALS. The Editors believe that they enjoy
special facilities for the successful execution of such an undertaking,
owing to their long experience--now extending over a period of forty
years--in the work of popular education, as well as to their having the
co-operation of writers specially qualified to treat the several
subjects. In particular, they are happy in having the editorial
assistance of ANDREW FINDLATER, LL.D., to whose labours they were so
much indebted in the work of editing and preparing _Chamber's
Encyclopaedia_.
The Manuals of this series are intended to serve two somewhat different
purposes:
1. They are designed, in the first place, for SELF-INSTRUCTION, and will
present, in a form suitable for private study, the main subjects
entering into an enlightened education; so that young persons in earnest
about self-culture may be able to master them for themselves.
2. The other purpose of the Manuals is, to serve as TEXT-BOOKS IN
SCHOOLS. The mode of treatment naturally adopted in what is to be
studied without a teacher, so far from being a drawback in a
school-manual, will, it is believed, be a positive advantage. Instead of
a number of abrupt statements being presented, to be taken on trust and
learned, as has been the usual method in school-teaching; the subject is
made, as far as possible, to unfold itself gradually, as if the pupil
were discovering the principles himself, the chief function of the book
being, to bring the materials before him, and to guide him by the
shortest road to the discovery. This is now acknowledged to be the only
profitable method of acquiring knowledge, whether as regards
self-instruction or learning at school.
For simplification in teaching, the subject has been divided into
sub-sections or articles, which are numbered continuously; and a series
of Questions, in corresponding divisions, has been appended. These
Questions, while they will enable the private student to test for
himself how far he has mastered the several parts of the subject as he
proceeds, will serve the teacher of a class as specimens of the more
detailed and varied examination to which he should subject his pupils.
NOTE BY THE AUTHOR.
In the present Manual of GEOLOGY it has been the aim of the author
rather to indicate the methods of geological inquiry and reasoning, than
to present the learner with a tedious summary of results. Attention has
therefore been directed chiefly to the physical branches of the
science--Palaeontology and Historical Geology, which are very large
subjects of themselves, having been only lightly touched upon. The
student who has attained to a fair knowledge of the scope and bearing of
Physical Geology, should have little difficulty in subsequently tackling
those manuals in which the results obtained by geological investigation
are specially treated of.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY 7
CLASSIFICATION OF ROCKS 8
MINERALOGY 12
ROCK-FORMING MINERALS 14
PETROLOGY--
MECHANICALLY FORMED ROCKS 17
CHEMICALLY FORMED ROCKS 19
ORGANICALLY DERIVED ROCKS 20
METAMORPHIC ROCKS 21
IGNEOUS ROCKS 23
STRUCTURE AND ARRANGEMENT OF ROCK-MASSES--
Stratification, &c.; Mud-cracks and Rain-prints;
Succession of Strata; Extent of Beds; Sequence of
Beds--Joints; Cleavage; Foliation; Concretions;
Inclination of Strata; Contemporaneous Erosion;
Unconformability; Overlap; Faults; Mode of
Occurrence of Metamorphic and Igneous Rocks;
Mineral Veins 26-46
DYNAMICAL GEOLOGY--
THE ATMOSPHERE AS A GEOLOG
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[Illustration: A LIFETIMER'S CELL]
_After Prison--What?_
_By
Maud Ballington Booth_
[Illustration: Logo]
_New York Chicago Toronto
Fleming H. Revell Company
London and Edinburgh_
Copyright, 1903, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
(_September_)
New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
Chicago: 63 Washington Street
Toronto: 27 Richmond Street, W
London: 21 Paternoster Square
Edinburgh: 30 St. Mary Street
_DEDICATION_
_Lovingly dedicated to our boys in prison by
their Little Mother
who
believes in them and looks with confidence
to a bright, victorious future
when they shall have lived down
the old, sad record, stormed the walls
of prejudice,
wrested just recognition from the skeptical
and
answered convincingly the question,
"can a convict be reformed?"_
Preface
This message from my pen is not a work on criminology or penology.
No gathering of statistics, nor comparative study of the works or
theories of learned authorities on these subjects will be found within
its pages. It is just a plea from the heart of one who knows them, for
those who cannot voice to the world their own thoughts and feelings. We
ask no sentimental sympathy or pity, no patronage or charity, but only
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THE
Letters
OF
LORD NELSON
TO
LADY HAMILTON;
WITH A
SUPPLEMENT
OF
_INTERESTING LETTERS_,
BY
Distinguished Characters.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
* * * * *
London:
Printed by Macdonald and Son, Smithfield,
FOR THOMAS LOVEWELL & CO. STAINES HOUSE,
BARBICAN;
AND SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS.
1814.
ADVERTISEMENT.
In presenting to the Public the Letters of LORD NELSON to LADY
HAMILTON, something may justly be expected elucidatory of them.
Their mutual attachment is so generally known, that for the Editors
to have given notes, however desirable and explanatory, might not,
perhaps, have been deemed perfectly decorous.
They now stand on their own real merits. Some parts (though not very
numerous) have been suppressed, from the most honourable _feelings to
individuals_, as they would certainly have given pain.
That portion of Letters now offered to the BRITISH NATION, written
by the first of her _Naval Commanders_, will shew his most private
sentiments of _men_ and _measures_, of _countries_ and their _rulers_.
It is the duty of the Editors to state, that every letter has
been most accurately transcribed, and faithfully compared with the
_originals in their possession_.
Should our IMMORTAL HERO have expressed an erroneous opinion of some
individuals and of things, let us ever remember, they were written
(_often under the feelings of sickness and of disappointment_) by
him who so repeatedly fought, and almost as frequently bled, for _our
country_--for his "DEAR ENGLAND;" and let us never forget, that to him
we owe more than to any man for our existence as a great and powerful
Nation.
His country has truly honoured him; and it is not presumptuous in the
Editors to affirm, that his deeds will be remembered, not _only in
name_, but in _their consequences_, by our remotest posterity.
Were we to dedicate them, unto whom should we?--To the BRITISH NAVY;
as the genuine sentiments of a _true seaman_--the _first_ even of
their own _Heroes_; for NELSON could forego all private feelings, _all
selfish motives_, for that which will ever be the first object of a
truly great and brave man--the _glory and happiness of his country_.
Our task, which has, from various causes, been attended with more
difficulties than could be imagined, is thus far accomplished; and we
have the pleasure to inform the public, that a very large collection
of LORD NELSON'S _most important public and private correspondence_,
&c. with the most distinguished characters (_at home and abroad_) is
now in preparation for the press. Many of the documents will certainly
throw a light on political transactions at present _very imperfectly
understood_; and those which we intend to present to the world, we
doubt not, will be found more than usually interesting.
CONTENTS.
* * * * *
VOL. I.
* * * * *
LETTERS FROM LORD NELSON TO LADY HAMILTON.
LETTER I. Page 3
II. 7
III. 9
IV. 11
V. 13
VI. 15
VII. 18
VIII. 20
IX. 23
X. 28
XI. 32
XII. 34
XIII. 39
XIV. 44
XV. 48
XVI. 53
XVII. 58
XVIII. 60
XIX. 65
XX. 69
XXI. 74
XXII. 77
XXIII. 82
XXIV. 84
XXV. 88
XXVI. 89
XXVII. 91
XXVIII. 96
XXIX. 101
XXX. 104
XXXI. 108
XXXII. 113
XXXIII. 124
XXXIV. 130
XXXV. 133
XXXVI. 135
XXXVII. 147
XXXVIII. 152
XXXIX. 155
SUPPLEMENT.
_Letters from Lord Nelson to Mrs. Thomson_.
LETTER I. Page 173
II. 175
_Letters from Lady Hamilton to Lord Nelson_.
LETTER I. Page 181
II. 185
_Letters from the Reverend Edmund Nelson, (Lord
Nelson's Father) to Lady Hamilton_.
LETTER I. Page 189
II. 191
_Letters from the Reverend Dr. Nelson, now Earl
Nelson, to Lady Hamilton_.
LETTER I. 195
II. 199
III. 202
IV. 206
V. 210
VI. 213
_Letters from the Earl of St. Vincent to Lady Hamilton._
LETTER I. Page 217
II. 219
III. 222
IV. 225
V. 227
_Letters from Sir Alexander John Ball to Lady
Hamilton._
LETTER I. Page 233
II. 236
_Letters from the Earl of Bristol, Bishop of Derry
in Ireland, to Lady Hamilton_.
LETTER I. Page 241
II. 243
III. 245
IV. 248
V. 249
VI. 250
VII. 252
VIII. 253
IX. 255
X. 257
_Letter from the Honourable Charles Greville, Nephew
of Sir William Hamilton, to Lady Hamilton_.
Page 265
_Letters from Lady Hamilton to the Honourable
Charles Greville_.
LETTER I. Page 269
II. 273
THE
Letters
OF
LORD NELSON
TO
LADY HAMILTON.
THE Letters OF LORD NELSON TO LADY HAMILTON.
LETTER I.
Vanguard, off Malta,
Oct. 24, 1798.
MY DEAR MADAM,
After a long passage, we are arrived; and it is as I suspected--the
ministers at Naples know nothing of the situation of the island. Not
a house or bastion of the town is in possession of the islanders; and
the Marquis de Niza tells me, they want arms, victuals, and support.
He does not know, that any Neapolitan officers are in the island;
perhaps, although I have their names, none are arrived; and it is very
certain, by the Marquis's account, that no supplies have been sent by
the governors of Syracuse or Messina.
However, I shall and will know every thing as soon as the Marquis is
gone, which will be to-morrow morning. He says, he is very anxious to
serve under my command; and, by his changing his ship, it appears
as if he was so: however, I understand the trim of our English ships
better.
Ball will have the management of the blockade after my departure; as,
it seems, the Court of Naples think my presence may be necessary, and
useful, in the beginning of November.
I hope it will prove so; but, I feel, my duty lays at present in the
East; for, until I know the shipping in Egypt are destroyed, I shall
never consider the French army as completely sure of never returning
to Europe.
However, all my views are to serve and save the Two Sicilies; and
to do that which their Majesties may wish me, even against my own
opinion, when I come to Naples, and that country is at war. I shall
wish to have a meeting with General Acton on this subject.
You will, I am sure, do me justice with the Queen; for, I declare to
God, my whole study is, how to best meet her approbation.
May God bless you and Sir William! and ever believe me, with the most
affectionate regard, your obliged and faithful friend,
HORATIO NELSON.
I may possibly, but that is not certain, send in the inclosed letter.
Shew it to Sir William. This must depend on what I hear _and see_; for
I believe scarcely any thing I hear.
Once more, God bless you!
LETTER II.
[May 12, 1799.]
MY DEAR LADY HAMILTON,
Accept my sincere thanks for your kind letter. Nobody writes so
well: therefore, pray, say not you write ill; for, if you do, I will
say--what your goodness sometimes told me--"You l--e!" I can read, and
perfectly understand, every word you write.
We drank your and Sir William's health. Troubridge, Louis, Hallowell,
and the new Portuguese Captain, dined here. I shall soon be at
Palermo; for this business must very soon be settled.
No one, believe me, is more sensible of your regard, than your obliged
and grateful
NELSON.
I am pleased with little Mary; kiss her for me. I thank all the house
for their regard. God bless you all!
I shall send on shore, if fine, to-morrow; for the fel
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EMILE VERHAEREN
BY
STEFAN ZWEIG
LONDON
CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LTD
1914
[Illustration: Émile Verhaeren from an unpublished photograph by
Charles Bernier, 1914.]
PREFACE
Four years have passed since the present volume appeared simultaneously
in German and French. In the meantime Verhaeren's fame has been
spreading; but in English-speaking countries he is still not so well
known as he deserves to be.
Something of his philosophy--if it may be called philosophy rather than
a poet's inspired visualising of the world--has passed into the public
consciousness in a grotesquely distorted form in what is known as
'futurism.' So long as futurism is associated with those who have
acquired a facile notoriety by polluting the pure idea, it would be an
insult to Verhaeren to suggest that he is to be classed with the
futurists commonly so-called; but the whole purpose of the present
volume will prove that the gospel of a very serious and reasoned
futurism is to be found in Verhaeren's writings.
Of the writer of the book it may be said that there was no one more
fitted than he to write the authentic exposition of the teaching which
he has hailed as a new religion. His relations to the Master are not
only those of a fervent disciple, but of an apostle whose labour of
love has in German-speaking lands and beyond been crowned with signal
success. Himself a lyrist of distinction, Stefan Zweig has accomplished
the difficult feat, which in this country still waits to be done, of
translating the great mass of Verhaeren's poems into actual and enduring
verse. Another book of his on Verlaine is already known in an English
rendering; so that he bids fair to become known in this country as one
of the most gifted of the writers of Young-Vienna.
As to the translation, I have endeavoured to be faithful to my text,
which is the expression of a personality. Whatever divergences there are
have been necessitated by the lapse of time. For help in reading the
proofs I have to thank Mr. M.T.H. Sadler and Mr. Fritz Voigt.
J. BITHELL.
HAMMERFIELD,
_Nr_. HEMEL HEMPSTEAD,
14_th July_ 1914.
CONTENTS
PART I
THE NEW AGE
THE NEW BELGIUM
YOUTH IN FLANDERS
'LES FLAMANDES'
THE MONKS
THE BREAK-DOWN
FLIGHT INTO THE WORLD
PART II
TOWNS ('LES VILLES TENTACULAIRES')
THE MULTITUDE
THE RHYTHM OF LIFE
THE NEW PATHOS
VERHAEREN'S POETIC METHOD
VERHAEREN'S DRAMA
PART III
COSMIC POETRY
THE LYRIC UNIVERSE
SYNTHESES
THE ETHICS OF FERVOUR
LOVE
THE ART OF VERHAEREN'S LIFE
THE EUROPEAN IMPORTANCE OF HIS WORK
BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX
PART I
DECIDING FORCES
LES FLAMANDES--LES MOINES--LES SOIRS--LES
DÉBâCLES--LES FLAMBEAUX NOIRS--AU BORD DE
LA ROUTE--LES APPARUS DANS MES CHEMINS
1883-1893
Son tempérament, son caractère, sa vie, tout conspire à nous
montrer son art tel que nous avons essayé de le définir. Une
profonde unité les scelle. Et n'est-ce pas vers la découverte de
cette unité-là, qui groupe en un faisceau solide les gestes, les
pensées et les travaux d'un génie sur la terre, que la critique,
revenue enfin de tant d'erreurs, devait tendre uniquement?
VERHAEREN, _Rembrandt._
THE NEW AGE
Tout bouge--et l'on dirait les horizons en marche.
É.V., 'La Foule.'
The feeling of this age of ours, of this our moment in eternity, is
different in its conception of life from that of our ancestors. Only
eternal earth has changed not nor grown older, that field, gloomed by
the Unknown, on which the monotonous light of the seasons divides, in a
rhythmic round, the time of blossoms and of their withering; changeless
only are the action of the elements and the restless alternation of
night and day. But the aspect of earth's spirit has changed, all that is
subjected to the toil of man. Has changed, to change again. The
evolution of the phenomena of culture seems to proceed with ever greater
rapidity
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EXCLUSIVENESS OF THE GOSPEL***
Transcribed from the [1865] William Hunt and Company edition by David
Price, email [email protected]
THE
BREADTH, FREENESS,
AND
Yet Exclusiveness of the Gospel.
* * * * *
BY THE
REV. EDWARD HOARE, M.A.,
_Incumbent of Trinity Church_, _Tunbridge Wells_.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
LONDON:
WILLIAM HUNT AND COMPANY,
23, HOLLES STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE.
IPSWICH: WILLIAM HUNT.
THE BREADTH, FREENESS, AND YET EXCLUSIVENESS OF THE GOSPEL.
JOHN III. 16.
THE subject has, I presume, been chosen for our discussion, in order to
meet the aspersions of those who claim for their own system the merit of
breadth, comprehensiveness, and large-heartedness, while they speak of
our Gospel as the narrow-minded theology of a body of men whose
contracted intellects are so cramped and stunted that they are unable to
take in the broad views of the nineteenth century. Such persons consider
themselves broad, and us narrow; and their teaching to be characterized
by largeness, ours by narrowness; theirs by generosity, ours by bigotry;
theirs by comprehensive philanthropy, ours by an exclusive interest in a
small section of the human family.
Now there is something very noble in broad, large, and comprehensive
views of the dealings and character of God, and something, on the other
hand, exceedingly repulsive in any disposition to contract God’s message,
or to half close the door which God has opened wide for the world. And,
more than that, there is something so grand in the magnificence of
creation, that we cannot be surprised if our judgment naturally decides
in favour of that which claims to be the broader view of the religious
government of God. We fully acknowledge therefore the attractiveness and
persuasiveness of breadth, and are fully prepared to admit that the broad
has much more to commend it than the narrow, and that the probability of
truth lies on the side of the broadest, the widest, the freest message.
But, while freely admitting that the broadest statement of the Gospel is
most probably the truest, we have yet to decide the question, which
statement is really the broadest, and on which side is the narrowness to
be found? and if this question be fairly considered, it may possibly turn
out that that which calls itself the broad is really the narrow, and that
which some men call narrow is possessed of a breadth, and length, and
depth, and height, that can only be measured by the infinity of God. It
is well therefore to consider whether the Gospel, as revealed in
Scripture, is really broad or really narrow,—applying the tests of
breadth and fulness to the message of salvation as proclaimed in the
Gospel of the grace of God.
* * * * *
I. _Its breadth_.
Is there in all language, a wider, broader, fuller, and more
comprehensive statement, than is found in the words of our blessed
Redeemer,—“God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting
life”? It describes a Divine and eternal love, originating a salvation
unmerited, unlooked for, and as far above all human thoughts as heaven is
above the earth. It declares the object of it to be the world, the whole
world, and nothing short of the world; for it is just as unreasonable to
maintain that the world in this verse means the elect, as it would be to
maintain that “the elect of God,” in Col. iii., means the world. It
proclaims the most magnificent possible offer as the result of it. God
forbid that we should ever cramp, fetter, or limit it! It is the New
Testament exposition of the Old Testament invitation,—“Ho, every one that
thirsteth, come ye to the waters,” and it is the foundation of the
message heard from heaven,—“The Spirit and the Bride say, Come: and let
him that heareth say, Come: and let him that is athirst come: and
whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.” Our Lord’s words
on earth are one with His words in heaven, and both proclaim an
unqualified invitation to all, without the exclusion of an individual.
The invitation is as broad as the world itself
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 1.
FOR THE WEEK ENDING SEPTEMBER 25, 1841.
* * * * *
THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.
CHAPTER V.
SHOWS THAT "THERE'S MANY A SLIP" BETWEEN OTHER THINGS BESIDE "THE CUP AND
THE LIP."
[Illustration: T]The heir of Applebite continued to squall and thrive, to
the infinite delight of his youthful mamma, who was determined that the
joyful occasion of his cutting his first tooth should be duly celebrated
by an evening party of great splendour; and accordingly cards were issued
to the following effect:--
MR. AND MRS. APPLEBITE
REQUEST THE HONOUR OF
---- ----'s
COMPANY TO AN EVENING PARTY,
On Thursday, the 12th inst.
_Quadrilles_. _An Answer will oblige_.
It was the first home-made party that Collumpsion had ever given; for
though during his bachelorhood he had been no niggard of his hospitality,
yet the confectioner had supplied the edibles, and the upholsterer
arranged the decorations; but now Mrs. Applebite, with a laudable spirit
of economy, converted No. 24, Pleasant-terrace, into a perfect _cuisine_
for a week preceding the eventful evening; and old John was kept in a
constant state of excitement by Mrs. Waddledot, who superintended the
ornamental department of these elaborate preparations.
Agamemnon felt that he was a cipher in the house, for no one condescended
to notice him for three whole days, and it was with extreme difficulty
that he could procure the means of "recruiting exhausted nature" at those
particular hours which had hitherto been devoted to the necessary
operation.
On the morning of the 12th, Agamemnon was anxiously engaged in
endeavouring to acquire a knowledge of the last alterations in the figure
of _La Pastorale_, when he fancied he heard an unusual commotion in the
lower apartments of his establishment. In a few moments his name was
vociferously pronounced by Mrs. Applebite, and the affrighted Collumpsion
rushed down stairs, expecting to find himself another Thyestes, whose
children, it is recorded, were made into a pie for his own consumption.
On entering the kitchen he perceived the cause of the uproar, although he
could see nothing else, for the dense suffocating vapour with which the
room was filled.
"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Applebite, "the chimney's on fire; one pound of fresh
butter--"
"And two pound o'lard's done it!" exclaimed Susan.
"What's to be done?" inquired Collumpsion.
"Send for my brother, sir," said Betty.
"Where does he live?" cried old John.
"On No. 746," replied Betty.
"Where's that?" cried the whole assembled party.
"I don't know, but it's a hackney-coach as he drives," said Betty.
A general chorus of "Pshaw!" greeted this very unsatisfactory rejoinder.
Another rush of smoke into the kitchen rendered some more active measures
necessary, and, after a short discussion, it was decided that John and
Betty should proceed to the roof of the house with two pailsful of water,
whilst Agamemnon remained below to watch the effects of the measure. When
John and Betty arrived at the chimney-pots, the pother was so confusing,
that they were undecided which was the rebellious flue! but, in order to
render assurance doubly sure, they each selected the one they conceived to
be the delinquent, and discharged the contents of their buckets
accordingly, without any apparent diminution of the intestine war which
was raging in the chimney. A fresh supply from a cistern on the roof,
similarly applied, produced no better effects, and Agamemnon, in an agony
of doubt, rushed up-stairs to ascertain the cause of non-abatement.
Accidentally popping his head into the drawing-room, what was his horror
at beholding the beautiful Brussels carpet, so lately "redolent of
brilliant hues," one sheet of inky liquid, into which Mrs. Waddledot (who
had followed him) instantly swooned. Agamemnon, in his alarm, never
thought of his wife's mother, but had rushed half-way up the next flight
of stairs, when a violent knocking arrested his ascent, and, with the fear
of the whole fire-brigade before his eyes, he re-rushed to open the door,
the knocker of which kept up an incessant clamour both in and out of the
house. The first person that met his view was a footman, 25, dyed with the
same sooty evidence of John and Betty's exertions, as he had encountered
on entering his own drawing-room. The dreadful fact flashed upon
Collumpsion's mind, and long before the winded and saturated servant could
detail the horrors he had witnessed in "his missuses best bed-room, in No.
25," the bewildered proprietor of No. 24 was franticly shaking his
innocently offending menials on the leads of his own establishment. Then
came a confused noise of little voices in the street, shouting and
hurraing in the fulness of that delight which we regret to say is too
frequently felt by the world at large at the misfortunes of one in
particular. Then came the sullen rumble of the parish engine, followed by
violent assaults on the bell and knocker, then another huzza! welcoming
the extraction of the fire-plug, and the sparkling fountain of "New
River," which followed as a providential consequence. Collumpsion again
descended, as John had at last discovered the right chimney, and having
inundated the stewpans and the kitchen, had succeeded in extinguishing the
sooty cause of all these disasters. The mob had, by this time, increased
to an alarming extent. Policemen were busily employed in making a ring for
the exhibition of the water-works--little boys were pushing each other
into the flowing gutters--small girls, with astonished infants in their
arms, were struggling for front places against the opposite railings; and
every window, from the drawing-rooms to the attics, in Pleasant-terrace
were studded with heads, in someway resembling the doll heads in a
gingerbread lottery, with which a man on a wooden leg was tempting the
monied portion of the juvenile alarmists. Agamemnon opened the door, and
being flanked by the whole of his household, proceeded to address the
populace on the present satisfactory state of his kitchen chimney. The
announcement was received by expressions of extreme disgust, as though
every auditor considered that a fire ought to have taken place, and that
they had been defrauded of their time and excitement, and that the
extinguishing of the same by any other means than by legitimate engines
was a gross imposition. He was about remonstrating with them on the
extreme inconvenience which would have attended a compliance with their
reasonable and humane objections, when his eloquence was suddenly cut
short by a _jet d'eau_ which a ragged urchin directed over him, by
scientifically placing his foot over the spouting plug-hole. This clever
manoeuvre in some way pacified the crowd, and after awaiting the
re-appearance of the parish engineer, who had insisted on a personal
inspection of the premises, they gave another shout of derision and
departed.
Thus commenced the festivities to celebrate the advent of the first tooth
of the Heir of Applebite.
* * * * *
GRAVESEND.
(_From our own Correspondent_.)
This delightful watering-place is filled with beauty and fashion, there
being lots of large curls and small bonnets in every portion of the town
and neighbourhood.
We understand it is in contemplation to convert the mud on the banks of
the river into sand, in order that the idea of the sea-side may be
realised as far as possible. Two donkey cart-loads have already been laid
down by way of experiment, and the spot on which they were thrown was
literally thronged with pedestrians. The only difficulty likely to arise
is, that the tide washes the sand away, and leaves the mud just as usual.
The return of the imports and exports shows an immense increase in the
prosperity of this, if not salubrious sea-port, at least healthy
watercourse. It seems that the importation of Margate slippers this year,
as compared with that of the last, has been as two-and-three-quarters to
one-and-a-half, or rather more than double, while the consumption of
donkeys has been most gratifying, and proves beyond doubt that the
pedestrians and equestrians are not so numerous by any means as the
asinestrians. The first round of a new ladder for ascending the balconies
of the bathing-rooms was laid on Wednesday, amidst an inconvenient
concourse of visitors. With the exception of a rap on the toes received by
those who pressed so much on the carpenter employed as to <DW44> the
progress of his work, all passed off quietly. After the ceremony, the man
was regaled by the proprietor of the rooms with some beer, at the tap of
the neighbouring hotel for families and gentlemen.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
PUNCH'S ESSENCE OF GUFFAW.
SCRUPULOUSLY PREPARED FROM THE RECIPE OF THE LATE
MR. JOSEPH MILLER,
AND PATRONISED BY
THE ROYAL FAMILY,
THE TWELVE JUDGES, THE LORD CHANCELLOR, THE SWELL MOB, MR. HOBLER, AND THE
COURT OF ALDERMEN;
ALSO BY THE
COMMISSIONERS OF POLICE, THE SEXTON OF ST. MARYLEBONE, THE PHOENIX LIFE
ASSURANCE COMPANY, THE KING OF THE SANDWICH ISLANDS,
AND THE
LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY.
This inestimable composition, which cures all disorders, and keeps in all
climates, may be had of every respectable bookseller on the face of the
globe. Price 3d.
TESTIMONIALS.
TO MR. PUNCH.
SIR,--Having incautiously witnessed two consecutive performances of Mr.
Macready in the "Lady of Lyons," the comic portions of them threw me into
a state of deep and chronic melancholy, which the various physicians
employed were unable to cure. Hearing, however, of your excellent
medicine, I took it regularly every Saturday for five weeks, and am now
able to go about my daily employment, which being that of a low comedian,
was materially interfered with by my late complaint.
I remain, with gratitude, yours truly,
JOHN SAUNDERS.
_New Strand Theatre_.
* * * * *
SIR,--I was, till lately, private secretary to Lord John Russell. I had to
copy his somniferous dispatches, to endure a rehearsal of his prosy
speeches, to get up, at an immense labour to myself, incessant laughs at
his jokes. At length, by the enormous exertions the last duty imposed upon
me, I sunk into a hopeless state of cachinnatory impotence: my risible
muscles refused to perform their office, and I lost mine. I was
discharged. Fortunately, however, for me, I happened to meet with your
infallible "Pills to Purge Melancholy," and tried Nos. 1 to 10 inclusive
of them.
With feelings overflowing with gratitude, I now inform you, that I have
procured another situation with Sir James Graham; and to show you how
completely my roaring powers have returned, I have only to state, that it
was I who got up the screeching applause with which Sir James's recent
jokes about the Wilde and Tame serjeants were greeted.
I am, Sir, yours,
GEORGE STEPHEN,
Late "over"-Secretary, and Author of the "Canadian Rebellion."
* * * * *
SIR,--Being the proprietor of several weekly newspapers, which I have
conducted for many years, my jocular powers gradually declined, from hard
usage and incessant labour, till I was reduced to a state of despair; for
my papers ceasing to sell, I experienced a complete stoppage of
circulation.
In this terrible state I had the happiness to meet with your "Essence of
Guffaw," and tried its effect upon my readers, by inserting several doses
of your Attic salt in my "New Weekly Messenger," "Planet," &c. &c. The
effects were wonderful. Their amount of sale increased at every joke, and
has now completely recovered.
I am, Sir,
JOHN BELL.
_Craven-street, Strand_.
_Note._--This testimonial is gratifying, as the gentleman has hitherto
failed to acknowledge the source of the wonderful cure we have effected in
his property.
* * * * *
SIR,--As the author of the facetious political essays in the "Morning
Herald," it is but due to you that I should candidly state the reason why
my articles have, of late, so visibly improved.
In truth, sir, I am wholly indebted to you. Feeling a gradual debility
come over my facetiae, I tried several potions of the "New Monthly" and
"Bentley's Miscellany," without experiencing the smallest relief. "PUNCH"
and his "Essence of Guffaw" were, however, most strongly recommended to me
by my friend the editor of "Cruikshank's Omnibus," who had wonderfully
revived after taking repeated doses. I followed his example, and am now
completely re-established in fine, jocular health.
I am, Sir,
THE "_OWN_ CORRESPONDENT."
_Shoe-lane_.
* * * * *
Inestimable SIR,--A thousand blessings light upon your head! You have
snatched a too fond heart from a too early grave. My life-preserver, my
PUNCH! receive the grateful benedictions of a resuscitated soul, of a
saved Seraphina Simpkins!
Samuel, dearest PUNCH, was false! He took Jemima to the Pavilion; I
detected his perfidy, and determined to end my sorrows under the fourth
arch of Waterloo-bridge.
In my way to the fatal spot I passed--no, I could _not_ pass--your office.
By chance directed, or by fate constrained, I stopped to read a placard of
your infallible specific. I bought one dose--it was enough. I have now
forgotten Samuel, and am happy in the affection of another.
Publish this, if you please; it may be of service to young persons who are
crossed in love, and in want of straw-bonnets at 3s. 6d. each, best
Dunstable.
I am, yours,
SERAPHINA SIMPKINS,
Architect of Tuscan, straw, and other bonnets, Lant-street, Borough.
* * * * *
CAUTION.--None are genuine unless duly stamped--with good humour, good
taste, and good jokes. Observe: "PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, price
Threepence," is on the cover. Several spurious imitations are abroad, at a
reduced price, the effects of which are dreadful upon the system.
* * * * *
W(H)AT TYLER.
The following pictorial joke has been sent to us by Count D'Orsay, which
he denominates
[Illustration: TILING A FLAT.]
All our attempts to discover the wit of this _tableau d'esprit_ have been
quite fu-_tile_. Perhaps our readers will be more successful.
* * * * *
A MESMERIC ADVERTISEMENT.
Wanted, by Mons. Lafontaine, a few fine able-bodied young men, who can
suffer the running of pins into their legs without flinching, and who can
stare out an ignited lucifer without winking. A few respectable-looking
men, to get up in the room and make speeches on the subject of the
mesmeric science, will also be treated with. Quakers' hats and coats are
kept on the premises. Any little boy who has been accustomed at school to
bear the cane without wincing will be liberally treated with.
* * * * *
AN ALARMING STRIKE.
HORACE TWISS, on being told that the workmen employed at the New Houses of
Parliament struck last week, to the number of 468, declared that he would
follow their example unless Bob raised his wages.
* * * * *
SIR RHUBARB PILL, M.P. & M.D.
"Now the Poor Law is the only remedy for all the distresses
referred to contained in the whole of the Baronet's
speech."--_Morning Chronicle_, Sept. 21.
Oh! dear Doctor,
Great bill
And pill
Concoctor,
Most worthy follower in the steps
Of Dr. Epps,
And eke that cannie man
Old Dr. Hanneman--
Two individuals of consummate gumption,
Who declare,
That whensoe'er
The patient's labouring under a consumption,
To save him from a trip across the Styx,
To ancient Nick's
In Charon's shallop,
If the consumption be upon the canter,
It should be put upon the gallop
Instanter;
For, "_similia similibus curantur_,"
Great medicinal cod
(Beating the mode
Of old Hippocrates, whom M.D.'s mostly follow,
Quite hollow);
Which would make
A patient take
No end of verjuice for the belly-ache;
And find, beyond a question,
A power of good in
A lump of cold plum-pudding
For a case of indigestion.
And just as sage,
In this wise age,
'Faith, Dr. Peel, is _your_ law
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Produced by Sigal Alon, Lisa Reigel, Michael Zeug, 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.)
[Illustration]
TALES
OF A
WAYSIDE INN
BY
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
[Illustration]
BOSTON:
TICKNOR AND FIELDS.
1863.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY,
CAMBRIDGE.
CONTENTS.
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
PAGE
PRELUDE.
THE WAYSIDE INN 1
THE LANDLORD'S TALE.
PAUL REVERE'S RIDE 18
INTERLUDE 26
THE STUDENT'S TALE.
THE FALCON OF SER FEDERIGO 30
INTERLUDE 46
THE SPANISH JEW'S TALE.
THE LEGEND OF RABBI BEN LEVI 49
INTERLUDE 53
THE SICILIAN'S TALE.
KING ROBERT OF SICILY 55
INTERLUDE 69
THE MUSICIAN'S TALE.
THE SAGA OF KING OLAF 71
I. The Challenge of Thor 71
II. King Olaf's Return 74
III. Thora of Rimol 79
IV. Queen Sigrid the Haughty 83
V. The Skerry of Shrieks 88
VI. The Wraith of Odin 94
VII. Iron-Beard 98
VIII. Gudrun 103
IX. Thangbrand the Priest 106
X. Raud the Strong 111
XI. Bishop Sigurd at Salten Fiord 114
XII. King Olaf's Christmas 120
XIII. The Building of the Long Serpent 125
XIV. The Crew of the Long Serpent 130
XV. A Little Bird in the Air 134
XVI. Queen Thyri and the Angelica Stalks 137
XVII. King Svend of the Forked Beard 144
XVIII. King Olaf and Earl Sigvald 149
XIX. King Olaf's War-Horns 152
XX. Einar Tamberskelver 156
XXI. King Olaf's Death-drink 160
XXII. The Nun of Nidaros 165
INTERLUDE 169
THE THEOLOGIAN'S TALE.
TORQUEMADA 173
INTERLUDE 187
THE POET'S TALE.
THE BIRDS OR KILLINGWORTH 189
FINALE 205
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
FLIGHT THE SECOND.
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR 209
ENCELADUS 212
THE CUMBERLAND 215
SNOW-FLAKES 218
A DAY OF SUNSHINE 220
SOMETHING LEFT UNDONE 222
WEARINESS 224
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
PRELUDE.
THE WAYSIDE INN.
One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,
Across the meadows bare and brown,
The windows of the wayside inn
Gleamed red with fire-light through the leaves
Of woodbine, hanging from the eaves
Their crimson curtains rent and thin.
As ancient is this hostelry
As any in the land may be,
Built in the old Colonial day,
When men lived in a grander way,
With ampler hospitality;
A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,
Now somewhat fallen to decay,
With weather-stains upon the wall,
And stairways worn, and crazy doors,
And creaking and uneven floors,
And chimneys huge, and tiled and tall.
A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams,
Remote among the wooded hills!
For there no noisy railway speeds,
Its torch-race scattering smoke and gleeds;
But noon and night, the panting teams
Stop under the great oaks, that throw
Tangles of light and shade below,
On roofs and doors and window-sills.
Across the road the barns display
Their lines of stalls, their mows of hay,
Through the wide doors the breezes blow,
The wattled cocks strut to and fro,
And, half effaced by rain and shine
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the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE WINDS OF THE WORLD
By TALBOT MUNDY
THE WINDS OF THE WORLD
Ever the Winds of the World fare forth
(Oh, listen ye! Ah, listen ye!),
East and West, and South and North,
Shuttles weaving back and forth
Amid the warp! (Oh, listen ye!)
Can sightless touch--can vision keen
Hunt where the Winds of the World have been
And searching, learn what rumors mean?
(Nay, ye who are wise! Nay, listen ye!)
When tracks are crossed and scent is stale,
'Tis fools who shout--the fast who fail!
But wise men harken-Listen ye!
YASMINI'S SONG.
CHAPTER I
A watery July sun was hurrying toward a Punjab sky-line, as if weary of
squandering his strength on men who did not mind, and resentful of the
unexplainable--a rainy-weather field-day. The cold steel and khaki of
native Indian cavalry at attention gleamed motionless between British
infantry and two batteries of horse artillery. The only noticeable
sound was the voice of a general officer, that rose and fell explaining
and asserting pride in his command, but saying nothing as to the why of
exercises in the mud. Nor did he mention why the censorship was in full
force. He did not say a word of Germany, or Belgium.
In front of the third squadron from the right, Risaldar-Major Ranjoor
Singh sat his charger like a big bronze statue. He would have stooped
to see his right spur better, that shone in spite of mud, for though he
has
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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)
[Illustration]
THE
SHIPWRECKED ORPHANS:
A TRUE NARRATIVE OF THE
SHIPWRECK AND SUFFERINGS
OF
JOHN IRELAND AND WILLIAM DOYLEY,
WHO WERE WRECKED IN THE
SHIP CHARLES EATON,
ON AN ISLAND IN THE SOUTH SEAS.
WRITTEN BY JOHN IRELAND.
NEW HAVEN.
PUBLISHED BY S. BABCOCK.
_TO MY YOUNG READERS._
[Illustration]
_My dear little Friends_:
For this volume of TELLER’S TALES, I have selected the “SHIPWRECKED
ORPHANS, a True Narrative of the Sufferings of John Ireland” and a
little child, named William Doyley, who were unfortunately wrecked in
the ship Charles Eaton, of London, and lived for several years with the
natives of the South Sea Islands. The remainder of the passengers and
crew of this ill-fated ship, were most inhumanly murdered by the savages
soon after they landed from the wreck. The Narrative was written by one
of the Orphans, John Ireland, and I give it to you in nearly his own
words, having made but few alterations in the style in which he tells
the story of their sufferings.
The people of some of the South Sea Islands, are of a very cruel
disposition; some of them are cannibals; that is, they eat the flesh of
those unfortunate persons who may happen to be shipwrecked on their
Islands, or whom they may take prisoners of war. Others, on the
contrary, show the greatest kindness to strangers in distress. May the
time soon come when civilization and the Christian religion shall reach
all these benighted savages, and teach them to relieve the distressed,
and to regard the unfortunate as their brethren.
As very little is yet known of the manners and customs of these savage
tribes, I trust this Narrative will prove both interesting and
instructive to you all; and I hope you will feel grateful that,—unlike
the sufferers in this story,—you are surrounded with the comforts of
life, and have kind parents and friends to watch over you and defend you
from the dangers and miseries to which these poor Orphans were so long
exposed.
Your old friend and well-wisher,
THOMAS TELLER.
_Roseville Hall_, 1844.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE
SHIPWRECKED ORPHANS.
[Illustration]
Having obtained a situation as assistant in the cabin of the ship
Charles Eaton, I went on board on the 28th of September, 1833, to assist
in preparing for the voyage. In the month of December following, I had
the misfortune to fall into the dock, and not being able to swim,
narrowly escaped drowning; but through the exertions of Mr. Clare, the
chief officer of the ship, I was with difficulty saved.
About the 19th of December, we left the dock, with a cargo mostly of
lead and calico. Our crew consisted of the following persons: Frederick
Moore, commander; Robert Clare, chief mate; William Major, second mate,
Messrs. Ching and Perry, midshipmen; Mr. Grant, surgeon: Mr. Williams,
sail-maker; William Montgomery, steward; Lawrence Constantyne,
carpenter; Thomas Everitt, boatswain; John Barry, George Lawn, James
Millar, James Moore, John Carr, Francis Hower, William Jefferies, Samuel
Baylett, Charles Robertson, and Francis Quill, seamen; and John Sexton,
and myself, boys. The passengers were, Mr. Armstrong, a native of
Ireland, and twenty-five male and female children from the Emigration
Society, with some other steerage passengers.
We had a favorable passage down the river to Gravesend, where we took
leave of our pilot. A pilot is a person who takes charge of the ships in
those parts of rivers where they are dangerous. On the 23d of December
we went on our voyage, passing Deal on the 25th, and arrived at Cowes,
in the Isle of Wight, on the 27th.
The wind here proved contrary, and we were detained in the harbor until
the 4th of January, 1834; when, as we were attempting to quit, a
schooner ran against our vessel and broke off our bowsprit and jib-boom,
and did other damage to her. The bowsprit is the mast that sticks out in
front of the ship, and the jib-boom is the top joint of the bowsprit. We
were therefore obliged to remain there until the repairing of the ship
was completed; and on the 1st of February left Cowes.
[Illustration:
_Manner in which the Murray Islanders spearfish—a female assisting._
See Page 41.
]
This accident caused great alarm among the passengers, and more
especially among the children; indeed it was well that we escaped as we
did; for even in our own harbors in England, ships are often in great
danger.
We arrived at Falmouth, near Land’s-end in Cornwall, on the 5th of
February; and having on the 8th completed our cargo, left England with a
good wind, and every prospect of a happy voyage.
About the latter end of March, we crossed the Equator; that is, that
part of the world where the sun is over head and makes no shadow; here
we went through the usual ceremony of paying tribute to Neptune, to the
great amusement of the passengers.
We came to the Cape of Good Hope, which is in Africa, on the 1st of May,
and here we landed several of our passengers; we again set sail, on the
4th, for Hobart’s Town, in Australia, upwards of twenty thousand miles
from England, where we arrived on the 16th of June; at this place we
bade farewell to our young emigrants, and some of the passengers.
On the 8th of July, Captain and Mrs. Doyley, with their two sons, George
and William, the one about seven or eight years old, and the other about
fourteen months, came on board as passengers to Sourabaya, intending to
go from thence to Calcutta, in the East Indies. William, the youngest,
was
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Produced by Dagny and Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature
(online soon in an extended version,also linking to free
sources for education worldwide... MOOC's, educational
materials,...) Images generously made available by the
Internet Archive.)
WORK
[TRAVAIL]
BY
ÉMILE ZOLA
TRANSLATED BY
ERNEST ALFRED VIZETELLY
LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS
1901
PREFACE
'Work' is the second book of the new series which M. Zola began with
'Fruitfulness,' and which he hopes to complete with 'Truth' and
'Justice.' I should much have liked to discuss here in some detail
several of the matters which M. Zola brings forward in this instalment
of his literary testament, but unfortunately the latter part of the
present translation has been made by me in the midst of great bodily
suffering, and I have not now the strength to do as I desired. I will
only say, therefore, that 'Work' embraces many features. It is, first,
an exposition of M. Zola's gospel of work, as the duty of every man
born into the world and the sovereign cure for many ills--a gospel
which he has set forth more than once in the course of his numerous
writings, and which will be found synthetised, so to say, in a paper
called 'Life and Labour' translated by me for the 'New Review' some
years ago.[1] Secondly, 'Work' deals with the present-day conditions
of society so far as those conditions are affected by Capital and
Labour. And, thirdly and particularly, it embraces a scheme of social
reorganisation and regeneration in which the ideas of Charles Fourier,
the eminent philosopher, are taken as a basis and broadened and adapted
to the needs of a new century. Some may regard this scheme as being
merely the splendid dream of a poet (the book certainly abounds
in symbolism), but all must admit that it is a scheme of _pacific_
evolution, and therefore one to be preferred to the violent remedies
proposed by most Socialist schools.
In this respect the book has a peculiar significance. Though the
English press pays very little attention to the matter, things are
moving apace in France. The quiet of that country is only surface-deep.
The Socialist schools are each day making more and more progress.
The very peasants are fast becoming Socialists, and, as I wrote
comparatively recently in my preface to the new English version of M.
Zola's 'Germinal,' the most serious troubles may almost at any moment
convulse the Republic. Thus it is well that M. Zola, who has always
been a fervent partisan of peace and human brotherliness, should be
found at such a juncture pointing out pacific courses to those who
believe that a bath of blood must necessarily precede all social
regeneration.
Incidentally, in the course of his statements and arguments, M. Zola
brings forward some very interesting points. I would particularly refer
the reader to what he writes on the subject of education. Again, his
sketch of the unhappy French peasant of nowadays may be scanned with
advantage by those who foolishly believe that peasant to be one of the
most contented beings in the world. The contrary is unhappily the case,
the subdivision of the soil having reached such a point that the land
cannot be properly or profitably cultivated. After lasting a hundred
years, the order of things established in the French provinces by the
Great Revolution has utterly broken down. The economic conditions of
the world have changed, and the only hope for French agriculture rests
in farming on a huge scale. This the peasant, amidst his hard struggle
with pauperism, is now realising, and this it is which is fast making
him a Socialist.
All that M. Zola writes in 'Work' on the subject of iron and steel
factories, and the progressive changes in processes and so forth,
will doubtless be read with interest at the present time, when
so much is being said and written about a certain large American
'trust.' The reliance which he places in Science--the great pacific
revolutionary--to effect the most advantageous changes in present-day
conditions of labour, is assuredly justified by facts. Personally, I
rely far more on science than on any innate spirit of brotherliness
between men, to bring about comparative happiness for the human race.
In conclusion, I may point out that the tendency of M. Zola's book in
one respect is shown by the title chosen for the present
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BARON D'HOLBACH
A Study of Eighteenth Century Radicalism in France
By Max Pearson Cushing
Submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements
for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, in
the Faculty of Political Science,
Columbia University
New York
1914
Press of
The New Era Printing Company
Lancaster, PA
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction.
CHAPTER I. HOLBACH THE MAN.
Early Letters to John Wilkes.
Holbach's family.
Relations with Diderot, Rousseau, Hume, Garrick
and other important persons of the century.
Estimate of Holbach. His character and personality.
CHAPTER II. HOLBACH'S WORKS.
Miscellaneous Works.
Translations of German Scientific Works.
Translations of English Deistical Writers.
Boulanger's _Antiquité dévoilée_.
Original Works: _Le Christianisme devoilé_.
_Théologie portative_.
_La Contagion sacrée_.
_Essai sur les préjugés_.
_Le bons-sens_.
CHAPTER III. THE _Système de la Nature_ AND ITS PHILOSOPHY.
Voltaire's correspondence on the subject.
Goethe's sentiment.
Refutations and criticisms.
Holbach's philosophy.
APPENDIX. HOLBACH'S CORRESPONDENCE.
Five unpublished letters to John Wilkes.
[ENDNOTES]
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
Part I. Editions of Holbach's works in Chronological Order.
Part II. General Bibliography.
BARON D'HOLBACH
A une extréme justesse d'esprit il joignait une simplicité
de moeurs tout-à-fait antique et patriarcale.
J. A. Naigeon, _Journal de Paris_, le 9 fev. 1789
INTRODUCTION
Diderot, writing to the Princess Dashkoff in 1771, thus analysed the
spirit of his century:
Chaque siècle a son esprit qui le caractérise. L'esprit du nôtre semble
être celui de la liberté. La première attaque contre la superstition a
été violente, sans mesure. Une fois que les hommes ont osé d'une manière
quelconque donner l'assaut à la barrière de la religion, cette barrière
la plus formidable qui existe comme la plus respectée, il est impossible
de s'arrêter. Dès qu'ils ont tourné des regards menaçants contre la
majesté du ciel, ils ne manqueront pas le moment d'après de les diriger
contre la souveraineté de la terre. Le câble qui tient et comprime
l'humanité est formé de deux cordes, l'une ne peut céder sans que
l'autre vienne à rompre. [Endnote 1:1]
The following study proposes to deal with this attack on religion that
preceded and helped to prepare the French Revolution. Similar phenomena
are by no means rare in the annals of history; eighteenth-century
atheism, however, is of especial interest, standing as it does at the
end of a long period of theological and ecclesiastical disintegration
and prophesying a reconstruction of society on a purely rational and
naturalistic basis. The anti-theistic movement has been so obscured by
the less thoroughgoing tendency of deism and by subsequent romanticism
that the real issue in the eighteenth century has been largely lost from
view. Hence it has seemed fit to center this study about the man who
stated the situation with the most unmistakable and uncompromising
clearness, and who still occupies a unique though obscure position in
the history of thought.
Holbach has been very much neglected by writers on the eighteenth
century. He has no biographer. M. Walferdin wrote (in an edition of
Diderot's Works, Paris, 1821, Vol. XII p. 115): "Nous nous occupons
depuis longtemps à rassembler les matériaux qui doivent servir à venger
la mémoire du philosophe de la patrie de Leibnitz, et dans l'ouvrage
que nous nous proposons de publier sous le titre "D'Holbach jugé par
ses contemporains" nous espérons faire justement apprécier ce savant
si estimable par la profondeur et la variété de ses connaissances, si
précieux à sa famille et à ses amis par la pureté et la simplicité
de ses moeurs, en qui la vertu était devenue une habitude et la
bienfaisance un besoin." This work has never appeared and M. Tourneux
thinks that nothing of it was found among M. Walferdin's papers. [2:2]
In 1834 Mr. James Watson published in an English translation of the
_Système de la Nature_, _A Short Sketch of the Life and the Writings
of Baron d'Holbach_ by Mr. Julian Hibbert, compiled especially for
that edition from Saint Saurin's article in Michaud's _Biographie
Universelle_ (Paris, 1817, Vol. XX, pp. 460-467), from Barbier's _Dict.
des ouvrages anonymes_ (Paris, 1822) and from the preface to the Paris
edition of the _Système de la Nature_ (4 vols., 18mo, 1821). This sketch
was later published separately (London, 1834, 12mo, pp. 14) but on
account of the author's sudden death it was left unfinished and is of no
value from the point of view of scholarship. Another attempt to publish
something on Holbach was made by Dr. Anthony C. Middleton of Boston in
1857. In the preface to his translation to the _Lettres à Eugenia_
he speaks of a "Biographical Memoir of Baron d'Holbach which I am
now preparing for the press." If ever published at all this _Memoir_
probably came to light in the _Boston Investigator_, a free-thinking
magazine published by Josiah P. Mendum, 45 Cornhill, Boston, but it is
not to be found. Mention should also be made of the fact that M. Assézat
intended to include in a proposed study of Diderot and the philosophical
movement, a chapter to be devoted to Holbach and his society; but this
work has never appeared. [3:3]
Of the two works bearing Holbach's name as a title, one is a piece of
libellous fiction by Mme. de Genlis, _Les Diners du baron d'Holbach_
(Paris, 1822, 8vo), the other a romance pure and simple by F. T. Claudon
(Paris, 1835, 2 vols., 8vo) called _Le Baron d'Holbach_, the events of
which take place largely at his house and in which he plays the rôle
of a minor character. A good account of Holbach, though short and
incidental, is to be found in M. Avézac-Lavigne's _Diderot et la Société
du Baron d'Holbach_ (Paris, 1875, 8vo), and M. Armand Gasté has a little
book entitled _Diderot et le cure de Montchauvet, une Mystification
littéraire chez le Baron d'Holbach_ (Paris, 1895, 16vo). There are
several works which devote a chapter or section to Holbach. [3:4]
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THE LIFE AND PERAMBULATIONS OF A MOUSE
(1783-1784)
by Dorothy Kilner
INTRODUCTION
During a remarkably severe winter, when a prodigious fall of snow
confined everybody to their habitations, who were happy enough to have
one to shelter them from the inclemency of the season, and were hot
obliged by business to expose themselves to its rigour, I was on a visit
to Meadow Hall; where had assembled likewise a large party of young
folk, who all seemed, by their harmony and good humour, to strive who
should the most contribute to render pleasant that confinement which we
were all equally obliged to share. Nor were those further advanced
in life less anxious to contribute to the general satisfaction and
entertainment.
After the more serious employment of reading each morning was concluded,
we danced, we sung, we played at blind-man's-buff, battledore and
shuttlecock, and many other games equally diverting and innocent; and
when tired of them, drew our seats round the fire, while each one in
turn told some merry story to divert the company.
At last, after having related all that we could recollect worth
reciting, and being rather at a loss what to say next, a sprightly girl
in company proposed that every one should relate the history of their
own lives; 'and it must be strange indeed,' added she, 'if that will not
help us out of this difficulty, and furnish conversation for some days
longer; and by that time, perhaps, the frost will break, the snow will
melt, and set us all at liberty. But let it break when it will, I make a
law, that no one shall go from Meadow Hall till they have told their own
history: so take notice, ladies and gentlemen, take notice, everybody,
what you have to trust to. And because,' continued she, 'I will not be
unreasonable, and require more from you than you can perform, I will
give all you who may perhaps have forgotten what passed so many years
ago, at the beginning of your lives, two days to recollect and digest
your story; by which time if you do not produce something pretty and
entertaining, we will never again admit you to dance or play among us.'
All this she spoke with so good-humoured a smile, that every one was
delighted with her, and promised to do their best to acquit themselves
to her satisfaction; whilst some (the length of whose lives had not
rendered them forgetful of the transactions which had passed) instantly
began their memoirs, as they called them: and really some related their
narratives with such spirit and ingenuity, that it quite distressed us
older ones, lest we should disgrace ourselves when it should fall to
our turns to hold forth. However, we were all determined to produce
something, as our fair directress ordered. Accordingly, the next morning
I took up my pen, to endeavour to draw up some kind of a history, which
might satisfy my companions in confinement. I took up my pen, it is
true, and laid the paper before me; but not one word toward my appointed
task could I proceed. The various occurrences of my life were such as,
far from affording entertainment, would, I was certain, rather afflict;
or, perhaps, not interesting enough for that, only stupefy, and render
them more weary of the continuation of the frost than they were before I
began my narration. Thus circumstanced, therefore, although by myself,
I broke silence by exclaiming, 'What a task his this sweet girl
imposed upon me! One which I shall never be able to execute to my own
satisfaction or her amusement. The adventures of my life (though deeply
interesting to myself) will be insipid and unentertaining to others,
especially to my young hearers: I cannot, therefore, attempt it.'--'Then
write mine, which may be more diverting,' said a little squeaking voice,
which sounded as if close to me. I started with surprise, not knowing
any one to be near me; and looking round, could discover no object from
whom it could possibly proceed, when casting my eyes upon the ground, in
a little hole under the skirting-board, close by the fire, I discovered
the head of a mouse peeping out. I arose with a design to stop the
hole with a cork, which happened to lie on the table by me; and I was
surprised to find that it did not run away, but suffered me to advance
quite close, and then only retreated a little into the hole, saying in
the same voice as before, 'Will you write my history?' You may be sure
that I was much surprised to be so addressed by such an animal; but,
ashamed of discovering any appearance of astonishment, lest the
mouse should suppose it had frightened me, I answered with the utmost
composure, that I would write it willingly if it would dictate to
me. 'Oh, that I will do,' replied the mouse, 'if you will not hurt
me.'--'Not for the world,' returned I; 'come, therefore, and sit upon
my table, that I may hear more distinctly what you have to relate.' It
instantly accepted my invitation, and with all the nimbleness of its
species, ran up the side of my chair, and jumped upon my table; when,
getting into a box of wafers, it began as follows.
But, before I proceed to relate my new little companion's history, I
must beg leave to assure my readers that, in earnest, I never heard a
mouse speak in all my life; and only wrote the following narrative as
being far more entertaining, and not less instructive, than my own life
would have been: and as it met with the high approbation of those for
whom it was written, I have sent it to Mr. Marshall, for him to publish
it, if he pleases, for the equal amusement of his little customers.
PART I.
Like all other newborn animals, whether of the human, or any other
species, I can not pretend to remember what passed during my infant
days. The first circumstance I can recollect was my mother's addressing
me and my three brothers, who all lay in the same nest, in the following
words:-'I have, my children, with the greatest difficulty, and at the
utmost hazard of my life, provided for you all to the present moment;
but the period is arrived, when I can no longer pursue that method:
snares and traps are everywhere set for me, nor shall I, without
infinite danger, be able to procure sustenance to support my own
existence, much less can I find sufficient for you all; and, indeed,
with pleasure I behold it as no longer necessary, since you are of
age now to provide and shift for yourselves; and I doubt not but your
agility will enable you to procure a very comfortable livelihood. Only
let me give you this one caution--never (whatever the temptation may
be) appear often in the same place; if you do, however you may flatter
yourselves to the contrary, you will certainly at last be destroyed.'
So saying, she stroked us all with her fore paw as a token of her
affection, and then hurried away, to conceal from us the emotions of her
sorrow, at thus sending us into the wide world.
She was no sooner gone, than the thought of being our own directors so
charmed our little hearts, that we presently forgot our grief at parting
from our kind parent; and, impatient to use our liberty, we all set
forward in search of some food, or rather some adventure, as our mother
had left us victuals more than sufficient to supply the wants of that
day. With a great deal of difficulty, we clambered up a high wall on the
inside of a wainscot, till we reached the story above that we were
born in, where we found it much easier to run round within the
skirting-board, than to ascend any higher.
While we were there, our noses were delightfully regaled with the scent
of the most delicate food that we had ever smelt; we were anxious to
procure a taste of it likewise, and after running round and round the
room a great many times, we at last discovered a little crack, through
which we made our entrance. My brother Longtail led the way; I followed;
Softdown came next; but Brighteyes would not be prevailed upon to
venture. The apartment which we entered was spacious and elegant; at
least, differed so greatly from anything we had seen, that we imagined
it the finest place upon earth. It was covered all over with a carpet of
various colours, that not only concealed some bird-seeds which we came
to devour, but also for some time prevented our being discovered; as
we were of much the same hue with many of the flowers on the carpet.
At last a little girl, who was at work in the room, by the side of her
mamma, shrieked out as if violently hurt. Her mamma begged to know the
cause of her sudden alarm. Upon which she called out, 'A mouse! a mouse!
I saw one under the chair!' 'And if you did, my dear,' replied her
mother, 'is that any reason for your behaving so ridiculously? If there
were twenty mice, what harm could they possibly do? You may easily hurt
and destroy then; but, poor little things! they cannot, if they would,
hurt you.' 'What, could they not bite me?' inquired the child. 'They
may, indeed, be able to do that; but you may be very sure that they have
no such inclination,' rejoined the mother. 'A mouse is one of the most
timorous things in the world; every noise alarms it: and though it
chiefly lives by plunder, it appears as if punished by its fears for the
mischiefs which it commits among our property. It is therefore highly
ridiculous to pretend to be alarmed at the sight of a creature that
would run from the sound of your voice, and wishes never to come near
you, lest, as you are far more able, you should also be disposed to
hurt it.' 'But I am sure, madam,' replied the little girl, whose name I
afterwards heard was Nancy, 'they do not always run away; for one day,
as Miss Betsy Kite was looking among some things which she had in her
box, a mouse jumped out and ran up her frock sleeve--she felt it quite
up on her arm.' 'And what became of it then?' inquired the mother. 'It
jumped down again,' replied Nancy, 'and got into a little hole in the
window-seat; and Betsy did not see it again.' 'Well, then, my dear,'
resumed the lady, 'what harm did it do her? Is not that a convincing
proof of what I say, that you have no cause to be afraid of them, and
that it is very silly to be so? It is certainly foolish to be afraid of
any thing, unless it threatens us with immediate danger; but to pretend
to be so at a mouse, and such like inoffensive things, is a degree of
weakness that I can by no means suffer any of my children to indulge.'
'May I then, madam,' inquired the child, 'be afraid of cows and horses,
and such great beasts as those?' 'Certainly not,' answered her mother,
'unless they are likely to hurt you. If a cow or an horse runs after
you, I would have you fear them so much as to get out of the way; but if
they are quietly walking or grazing in a field, then to fly from them,
as if you thought they would eat you instead of the grass, is most
absurd, and discovers great want of sense. I once knew a young lady,
who, I believe, thought it looked pretty to be terrified at everything,
and scream if dog or even a mouse looked at her: but most severely was
she punished for her folly, by several very disagreeable accidents she
by those means brought upon herself.
'One day when she was drinking tea in a large company, on the door being
opened, a small Italian greyhound walked into the drawing-room. She
happened to be seated near the mistress of the dog, who was making tea:
the dog, therefore, walked toward her, in order to be by his favourite;
but, upon his advancing near her, she suddenly jumped up, without
considering what she was about, overturned the water-urn, the hot iron
of which rolling out, set fire to her clothes, which instantly blazed
up, being only muslin, and burnt her arms, face, and neck, most
dreadfully: she was so much hurt as to be obliged to be put immediately
to bed; nor did she recover enough to go abroad for many months. Now,
though every one was sorry for her sufferings, who could possibly help
blaming her for her ridiculous behaviour, as it was entirely owing to
her own folly that she was so hurt? When she was talked to upon the
subject, she pleaded for her excuse, that she was so frightened she did
not know what she did, nor whither she was going; but as she thought
that the dog was coming to her she could not help jumping up, to get out
of his way. Now what ridiculous arguing was this! Why could not she help
it? And if the dog had really been going to her, what harm would it have
done? Could she suppose that the lady whose house she was at, would have
suffered a beast to walk about the house loose, and go into company,
if he was apt to bite and hurt people? Or why should she think he would
more injure her, than those he had before passed by? But the real case
was, she did not think at all; if she had given herself time for that,
she could not have acted so ridiculously. Another time, when she was
walking, from the same want of reflection, she very nearly drowned
herself. She was passing over a bridge, the outside rails of which were
in some places broken down: while she was there, some cows, which a man
was driving, met her: immediately, without minding whither she went,
she shrieked out, and at the same time jumped on one side just where the
rail happened to be broken, and down she fell into the river; nor was
it without the greatest difficulty that she was taken out time enough
to save her life. However, she caught a violent cold and fever, and was
again, by her own foolish fears, confined to her bed for some weeks.
Another accident she once met with, which though not quite so bad as the
two former, yet might have been attended with fatal consequences. She
was sitting in a window, when a wasp happened to fly toward her; she
hastily drew back her head, and broke the pane of glass behind her, some
of which stuck in her neck. It bled prodigiously; but a surgeon happily
being present, made some application to it, which prevented its being
followed by any other ill effects than only a few days weakness,
occasioned by the loss of blood. Many other misfortunes of the like kind
she frequently experienced; but these which I have now related may serve
to convince you how extremely absurd it is for people to give way to
and indulge themselves in such groundless apprehensions, and, by being
afraid when there is no danger, subject themselves to real misfortunes
and most fatal accidents. And if being afraid of cows, dogs, and wasps
(all of which, if they please, can certainly hurt us) is so ridiculous,
what must be the folly of those people who are terrified at a little
silly mouse, which never was known to hurt anybody?'
Here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of some gentlemen
and ladies; and we having enjoyed a very fine repast under one of the
chairs during the time that the mother and daughter had held the above
discourse, on the chairs being removed for some of the visitors to sit
upon, we thought it best to retire: highly pleased with our meal,
and not less with the kind goodwill which the lady had, we thought,
expressed towards us. We related to our brother Brighteyes all that had
passed, and assured him he had no reason to apprehend any danger from
venturing himself with us. Accordingly he promised, if such was the
case, that the next time we went and found it safe, if we would return
back and call him, he would certainly accompany us. 'In the mean time,
do pray, Nimble,' said he, addressing himself to me, 'come with me to
some other place, for I long to taste some more delicate food than our
mother has provided for us: besides, as perhaps it may be a long while
before we shall be strong enough to bring anything away with us, we had
better leave that, in case we should ever be prevented from going abroad
to seek for fresh supplies.' 'Very true,' replied I; 'what you say is
quite just and wise, therefore I will with all my heart attend you now,
and see what we can find.' So saying, we began to climb; but not without
difficulty, for very frequently the bits of mortar which we stepped upon
gave way beneath our feet, and tumbled us down together with them lower
than when we first set off. However, as we were very light, we were not
much hurt by our falls; only indeed poor Brighteyes, by endeavouring to
save himself, caught by his nails on a rafter, and tore one of them from
off his right fore-foot, which was very sore and inconvenient. At
length we surmounted all difficulties, and, invited by a strong scent
of plum-cake, entered a closet, where we found a fine large one, quite
whole and entire. We immediately set about making our way into it, which
we easily effected, as it was most deliciously nice, and not at all hard
to our teeth.
Brighteyes, who had not before partaken of the bird-seed, was overjoyed
at the sight. He almost forgot the pain of his foot, and soon buried
himself withinside the cake; whilst I, who had pretty well satisfied
my hunger before, only ate a few of the crumbs, and then went to take a
survey of the adjoining apartment. I crept softly under the door of the
closet into a room, as large as that which I had before been in, though
not so elegantly furnished; for, instead of being covered with a carpet,
there was only a small one round the bed; and near the fire was a
cradle
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CATHEDRAL CITIES OF SPAIN
_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_
CATHEDRAL CITIES OF ENGLAND. By GEORGE GILBERT. With 60
reproductions from water-colours by W.W. COLLINS, R.I. Demy 8vo,
16s. net.
CATHEDRAL CITIES OF FRANCE. By HERBERT and HESTER MARSHALL. With 60
reproductions from water-colours by HERBERT MARSHALL, R.W.S. Demy
8vo, 16s. net. Also large paper edition, £2 2s. net.
_BOOKS ILLUSTRATED BY JOSEPH PENNELL_
ITALIAN HOURS. By HENRY JAMES. With 32 plates in colour and
numerous illustrations in black and white by JOSEPH PENNELL. Large
crown 4to. Price 20s. net.
A LITTLE TOUR IN FRANCE. By HENRY JAMES. With 94 illustrations by
JOSEPH PENNELL. Pott 4to. Price 10s. net.
ENGLISH HOURS. By HENRY JAMES. With 94 illustrations by JOSEPH
PENNELL. Pott 4to. Price 10s. net.
ITALIAN JOURNEYS. By W.D. HOWELLS. With 103 illustrations by JOSEPH
PENNELL. Pott 4to. Price 10s. net.
CASTILIAN DAYS. By the Hon. JOHN HAY. With 111 illustrations by
JOSEPH PENNELL. Pott 4to. Price 10s. net.
London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
21 Bedford Street, W.C.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: BURGOS. THE CATHEDRAL]
CATHEDRAL CITIES
OF SPAIN
WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED
BY
W. W. COLLINS, R.I.
[Illustration: colophon]
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
NEW YORK: DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1909
_All rights reserved_
_Copyright, London, 1909, by William Heinemann and
Washington, U.S.A., by Dodd, Mead & Co_
PREFACE
Spain, the country of contrasts, of races differing from one another in
habits, customs, and language, has one great thing that welds it into a
homogeneous nation, and this is its Religion. Wherever one's footsteps
wander, be it in the progressive provinces of the north, the mediævalism
of the Great Plain, or in that still eastern portion of the south,
Andalusia, this one thing is ever omnipresent and stamps itself on the
memory as the great living force throughout the Peninsula.
In her Cathedrals and Churches, her ruined Monasteries and Convents,
there is more than abundant evidence of the vitality of her Faith; and
we can see how, after the expulsion of the Moor, the wealth of the
nation poured into the coffers of the Church and there centralised the
life of the nation.
In the mountain fastnesses of Asturias the churches of Santa Maria de
Naranco and San Miguel de Lino, dating from the ninth century and
contemporary with San Pablo and Santa Cristina, in Barcelona, are the
earliest Christian buildings in Spain. As the Moor was pushed further
south, a new style followed his retreating steps; and the Romanesque,
introduced from over the Pyrenees, became the adopted form of
architecture in the more or less settled parts of the country. Creeping
south through Leon, where San Isidoro is well worth mention, we find the
finest examples of the period in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, at
Segovia, Avila, and the grand Catedral Vieja of Salamanca.
Spain sought help from France to expel the Moor, and it is but natural
that the more advanced nation should leave her mark somewhere and in
some way in the country she pacifically invaded. Before the spread of
this influence became general, we find at least one great monument of
native genius rise up at Tarragona. The Transition Cathedral there can
lay claim to be entirely Spanish. It is the epitome and outcome of a
yearning for the display of Spain's own talent, and is one of the most
interesting and beautiful in the whole country.
Toledo, Leon, and Burgos are the three Cathedrals known as the "French"
Cathedrals of Spain. They are Gothic and the first named is the finest
of all. Spanish Gothic is best exemplified in the Cathedral of
Barcelona. For late-Gothic, we must go to the huge structures of
Salamanca, Segovia, and the Cathedral at Seville which almost overwhelms
in the grandeur of its scale.
After the close of the fifteenth century Italian or Renaissance
influence began to be felt, and the decoration of the Plateresque style
became the vogue. San Marcos at Leon, the University of Salamanca, and
the Casa de Ayuntamiento at Seville are among the best
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| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has |
| been preserved. |
| |
| Obvious typographical
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Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
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normalized or corrected. (note of etext transcriber)
_SPECIAL LIMITED EDITION_
TRILBY
A Novel
_By_
GEORGE DU MAURIER
AUTHOR OF
"PETER IBBETSON" "THE MARTIAN"
"SOCIAL PICTORIAL SATIRE"
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY THE AUTHOR
[Illustration: "_Aux nouvelles que j'apporte,
Vos beaux yeux vont pleurer!_"]
NEW YORK
INTERNATIONAL BOOK AND PUBLISHING COMPANY
1899
_This volume is issued for sale in
paper covers only._
Copyright, 1894, 1899, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
[Illustration: "_IT WAS TRILBY!_" [See page 317]]
_"Hélas! Je sais un chant d'amour,
Triste et gai, tour à tour!"_
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"IT WAS TRILBY!" _Frontispiece_
TAFFY, ALIAS TALBOT WYNNE 4
"THE LAIRD OF COCKPEN" 5
"THE THIRD HE WAS 'LITTLE BILLEE'" 7
"IT DID ONE GOOD TO LOOK AT HIM" 9
AMONG THE OLD MASTERS 13
"WISTFUL AND SWEET" 17
THE "ROSEMONDE" OF SCHUBERT 21
TRILBY'S LEFT FOOT 27
THE FLEXIBLE FLAGEOLET 31
THE BRIDGE OF ARTS 34
"THREE MUSKETEERS OF THE BRUSH" 39
TAFFY MAKES THE SALAD 43
"THE GLORY THAT WAS GREECE" 47
TRILBY'S FOREBEARS 52
TAIL-PIECE 56
"AS BAD AS THEY MAKE 'EM" 59
"A VOICE HE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND" 63
"AND SO, NO MORE" 67
"'TWO ENGLANDERS IN ONE DAY'" 70
"'HIMMEL! THE ROOF OF YOUR MOUTH'" 73
"'ÇA FERA UNE FAMEUSE CRAPULE DE MOINS!'" 77
"'AV YOU SEEN MY FAHZER'S OLE SHOES?'" 81
TAFFY À L'ÉCHELLE! 85
"THE FOX AND THE CROW" 89
THE LATIN QUARTER 92
CUISINE BOURGEOISE EN BOHÈME 95
"THE SOFT EYES" 98
ILYSSUS 101
"'VOILÀ L'ESPAYCE DE HOM KER JER SWEE!'" 105
TIT FOR TAT 111
THE HAPPY LIFE 116
"'LET ME GO, TAFFY...'" 119
"'QU'EST CE QU'IL A DONC, CE LITREBILI?'" 121
REPENTANCE 125
CONFESSION 129
"ALL AS IT USED TO BE" 133
"TWIN GRAY STARS" 135
"AN INCUBUS" 137
THE CAPITALIST AND THE SWELL 141
"'I WILL NOT! I WILL NOT!'" 151
DODOR IN HIS GLORY 153
HÔTEL DE LA ROCHEMARTEL 155
CHRISTMAS EVE 161
"'ALLONS GLYCÈRE! ROUGIS MON VERRE....'" 163
SOUVENIR 168
"MY SISTER DEAR" 173
A DUCAL FRENCH FIGHTING-COCK 175
"'ANSWER ME, TRILBY!'" 179
A CARY_HAT_IDE 180
"'LES GLOUGLOUX DU VIN À QUAT' SOUS....'" 183
"'IS SHE A _LADY_, MR. WYNNE?'" 187
"'_FOND_ OF HIM? AREN'T _YOU_?'" 191
"SO LIKE LITTLE BILLEE" 195
"'I MUST TAKE THE BULL BY THE HORNS'" 199
"'TRILBY! WHERE IS SHE?'" 203
LA SŒUR DE LITREBILI 205
"HE FELL A-WEEPING, QUITE DESPERATELY" 207
"THE SWEET MELODIC PHRASE" 211
"SORROWFULLY, ARM IN ARM" 215
DEMORALIZATION 225
FRED WALKER 227
_PLATONIC LOVE_ 230
"DARLINGS, OLD OR YOUNG" 235
"THE MOON-DIAL" 237
THE CHAIRMAN 239
A HAPPY DINNER 245
"A-SMOKIN' THEIR POIPES AND CIGYARS" 247
"BONJOUR, SUZON!" 253
A HUMAN NIGHTINGALE 257
CUP-AND-BALL 263
SWEET ALICE 267
"MAY HEAVEN GO WITH HER!" 272
"'SO MUCH FOR ALICE, TRAY'" 277
"'YOU'RE A _THIEF_, SIR!'" 287
"AN ATMOSPHERE OF BANK-NOTES AND GOLD" 293
"A LITTLE PICTURE OF THE THAMES" 296
"'AH! THE BEAUTIFUL INTERMENT, MESSIEURS!'" 301
"PAUVRE TRILBY". 303
"'JE PRONG!'" 307
"'OON PAIR DE GONG BLONG'" 311
GECKO 315
"AU CLAIR DE LA LUNE" 319
"OUVRE-MOI TA PORTE POUR L'AMOUR DE DIEU!" 322
"MALBROUCK S'EN VA-T'EN GUERRE" 325
"AUX NOUVELLES QUE J'APPORTE, VOS BEAUX YEUX VONT PLEURER!". 329
UN IMPROMPTU DE CHOPIN 331
"AND THE REMEMBRANCE OF THEM--HAND IN HAND" 338
"'I BELIEVE YOU, MY BOY!'" 341
"MAMAN DUCHESSE" 351
THE CUT DIRECT 354
"PETIT ENFANT, J'AIMAIS D'UN AMOUR TENDRE...." 358
"'VITE! VITE! UN COMMISSAIRE DE POLICE!'" 363
"I SUPPOSE YOU DO ALL THIS KIND OF THING FOR MERE AMUSEMENT,
MR. WYNNE?" 367
THE FIRST VIOLIN LOSES HIS TEMPER 373
"HAST THOU FOUND ME, O MINE ENEMY?" 375
"'OH, DON'T YOU REMEMBER SWEET ALICE, BEN BOLT?'" 377
"THE LAST THEY SAW OF SVENGALI" 383
"'THREE NICE CLEAN ENGLISHMEN'" 386
"PŒNA PEDE CLAUDO" 389
"THE OLD STUDIO" 391
"'ET MAINTENANT DORS, MA MIGNONNE!'" 395
"TAFFY WAS ALLOWED TO SEE GECKO" 400
A FAIR BLANCHISSEUSE DE FIN 403
A THRONE IN BOHEMIA 407
"'OH, MY POOR GIRL! MY POOR GIRL!'" 410
"'AH, POOR MAMMA! SHE WAS EVER SO MUCH PRETTIER THAN THAT!'" 416
"'TO SING LIKE THAT IS _TO PRAY_!'" 422
"'THE REMEMBRANCE OF THAT PALM SUNDAY!'" 425
FOR GECKO 431
"OUT OF THE MYSTERIOUS EAST" 432
"'SVENGALI!... SVENGALI!... SVENGALI!...'" 437
"TOUT VIENT À POINT, POUR QUI SAIT ATTENDRE!" 439
"I, PETE COELESTES...." 441
"PETITS BONHEURS DE CONTREBANDE" 447
ENTER GECKO 451
"'WE TOOK HER VOICE NOTE BY NOTE'" 455
THE NIGHTINGALE'S FIRST SONG 459
"'ICH HABE _GELIEBT UND GELEBET_!'" 461
TAIL-PIECE 464
TRILBY
Part First
"Mimi Pinson est une blonde,
Une blonde que l'on connaît;
Elle n'a qu'une robe au monde,
Landérirette! et qu'un bonnet!"
It was a fine, sunny, showery day in April.
The big studio window was open at the top, and let in a pleasant breeze
from the northwest. Things were beginning to look shipshape at last. The
big piano, a semi-grand by Broadwood, had arrived from England by "the
Little Quickness" (_
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THE LOST PRINCE
Francis Hodgson Burnett
CONTENTS
I The New Lodgers at No. 7 Philibert Place
II A Young Citizen of the World
III The Legend of the Lost Prince
IV The Rat
V "Silence Is Still the Order"
VI The Drill and the Secret Party
VII "The Lamp Is Lighted!"
VIII An Exciting Game
IX "It Is Not a Game"
X The Rat--and Samavia
XI Come with Me
XII Only Two Boys
XIII Loristan Attends a Drill of the Squad
XIV Marco Does Not Answer
XV A Sound in a Dream
XVI The Rat to the Rescue
XVII "It Is a Very Bad Sign"
XVIII "Cities and Faces"
XIX "That Is One!"
XX Marco Goes to the Opera
XXI "Help!"
XXII A Night Vigil
XXIII The Silver Horn
XXIV "How Shall We Find Him?"
XXV A Voice in the Night
XXVI Across the Frontier
XXVII "It is the Lost Prince! It Is Ivor!"
XXVIII "Extra! Extra! Extra!"
XXIX 'Twixt Night and Morning
XXX The Game Is at an End
XXXI "The Son of Stefan Loristan"
THE LOST PRINCE
I
THE NEW LODGERS AT NO. 7 PHILIBERT PLACE
There are many dreary and dingy rows of ugly houses in certain parts of
London, but there certainly could not be any row more ugly or dingier
than
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A
NEW BANKING SYSTEM:
THE
NEEDFUL CAPITAL FOR REBUILDING
THE BURNT DISTRICT.
BY LYSANDER SPOONER.
BOSTON:
SOLD BY A. WILLIAMS & CO.
135 WASHINGTON STREET.
1873.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873.
BY LYSANDER SPOONER,
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Printed by
WARREN RICHARDSON,
112 Washington St
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.--A New Banking System, 5
CHAPTER II.--Specie Payments, 12
CHAPTER III.--No Inflation of Prices, 21
CHAPTER IV.--Security of the System, 35
CHAPTER V.--The System as a Credit System, 41
CHAPTER VI.--Amount of Currency Needed, 48
CHAPTER VII.--Importance of the System to Massachusetts, 59
CHAPTER VIII.--The True Character of the "National" System, 70
CHAPTER IX.--Amasa Walker's Opinion of the Author's System, 75
The reader will understand that the ideas presented in the following
pages admit of a much more thorough demonstration than can be given in
so small a space. Such demonstration, if it should be necessary, the
author hopes to give at a future time.
_Boston, March, 1873._
CHAPTER I.
A NEW BANKING SYSTEM.
Under the banking system--an outline of which is hereafter given--the
real estate of Boston alone--taken at only three-fourths its value, as
estimated by the State valuation[A]--is capable of furnishing three
hundred millions of dollars of loanable capital.
[A] By the State valuation of May, 1871, the real estate of Boston
is estimated at $395,214,950.
Under the same system, the real estate of Massachusetts--taken at only
three-fourths its estimated value[B]--is capable of furnishing seven
hundred and fifty millions of loanable capital.
[B] By the State valuation of May, 1871, the real estate of the
Commonwealth is estimated at $991,196,803.
The real estate of the Commonwealth, therefore, is capable of furnishing
an amount of loanable capital more than twelve times as great as that
of all the "_National_" Banks in the State[C]; more than twice as
great as that of all the "National" banks of the whole United States
($353,917,470); and equal to the entire amount ($750,000,000, or
thereabouts) both of greenback and "National" bank currency of the
United States.
[C] The amount of circulation now authorized by the present
"National" banks of Massachusetts, is $58,506,686, as appears
by the recent report of the Comptroller of the Currency.
It is capable of furnishing loanable capital equal to one thousand
dollars for every male and female person, of sixteen years of age and
upwards, within the Commonwealth; or two thousand five hundred dollars
for every male adult.
It would scarcely be extravagant to say that it is capable of furnishing
ample capital for every deserving enterprise, and every deserving man
and woman, within the State; and also for all such other enterprises in
other parts of the United States, and in foreign commerce, as
Massachusetts men might desire to engage in.
Unless the same system, or some equivalent one, should be adopted in
other States, the capital thus furnished in this State, could be loaned
at high interest at the West and the South.
If adopted here earlier than in other States, it would enable the
citizens of this State to act as pioneers in the most lucrative
enterprises that are to be found in other parts of the country.
All this capital is now lying dead, so far as being loaned is concerned.
All this capital can be loaned in the form of currency, if so much can
be used.
All the profits of banking, under this system, would be clear profits,
inasmuch as the use of the real estate as banking capital, would not
interfere at all with its use for other purposes.
The use of this real estate as banking capital would break up all
monopolies in banking, and in all other business depending upon bank
loans. It would diffuse credit much more widely than it has ever been
diffused. It would reduce interest to the lowest rates to which free
competition could reduce it. It would give immense activity and power to
industrial and commercial enterprise. It would multiply machinery, and
do far more to increase production than any other system of credit and
currency that has ever been invented. And being furnished at low rates
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_CHARLES DI TOCCA_
_A Tragedy_
_By_
_Cale Young Rice_
_McClure, Phillips & Co._
_New York_
1903
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
CALE YOUNG RICE
Published, March, 1903, R
_To My Wife_
_CHARLES DI TOCCA_
CHARLES DI TOCCA
_A Tragedy_
CHARLES DI TOCCA _Duke of Leucadia, Tyrant of Arta, etc._
ANTONIO DI TOCCA _His son._
HAEMON _A Greek noble._
BARDAS _His friend._
CARDINAL JULIAN _The Pope's Legate._
AGABUS _A mad monk._
CECCO _Seneschal of the Castle._
FULVIA COLONNA _Under the duke's protection._
HELENA _Sister to Haemon._
GIULIA _Serving Fulvia._
PAULA _Serving Helena._
LYGIA }
PHAON } _Revellers._
ZOE }
BASIL }
NARDO, a boy, and DIOGENES, a philosopher.
A Captain of the Guard, Soldiers, Guests, Attendants, etc.
_Time_: _Fifteenth Century._
ACT ONE
_Scene._--_The Island Leucadia. A ruined temple of Apollo near the town
of Pharo. Broken columns and stones are strewn, or stand desolately
about. It is night--the moon rising. ANTONIO, who has been waiting
impatiently, seats himself on a stone. By a road near the ruins FULVIA
enters, cloaked._
ANTONIO (_turning_): Helen----!
FULVIA: A comely name, my lord.
ANTONIO: Ah, you?
My father's unforgetting Fulvia?
FULVIA: At least not Helena, whoe'er she be.
ANTONIO: And did I call you so?
FULVIA: Unless it is
These stones have tongue and passion.
ANTONIO: Then the night
Recalling dreams of dim antiquity's
Heroic bloom worked on me.--But whence are
Your steps, so late, alone?
FULVIA: From the Cardinal,
Who has but come.
ANTONIO: What comfort there?
FULVIA: With doom
The moody bolt of Rome broods over us.
ANTONIO: My father will not bind his heresy?
FULVIA: You with him walked to-day. What said he?
ANTONIO: I?
With him to-day? Ah, true. What may be done?
FULVIA: He has been strange of late and silent, laughs,
Seeing the Cross, but softly and almost
As it were some sweet thing he loved.
ANTONIO (_absently_): As if
'Twere some sweet thing--he laughs--is strange--you say?
FULVIA: Stranger than is Antonio his son,
Who but for some expectancy is vacant.
(_She makes to go._)
ANTONIO: Stay, Fulvia, though I am not in poise.
Last night I dreamed of you: in vain you hovered
To reach me from the coil of swift Charybdis.
(_A low cry, ANTONIO starts._)
Fulvia: A woman's voice!
(_Looking down the road._)
And hasting here!
ANTONIO: Alone?
FULVIA: No, with another!
ANTONIO: Go, then, Fulvia.
'Tis one would speak with me.
FULVIA: Ah? (_She goes._)
_Enter HELENA frightedly with PAULA._
HELENA: Antonio!
ANTONIO: My Helena, what is it? You are wan
And tremble as a blossom quick with fear
Of shattering. What is it? Speak.
HELENA: Not true!
O, 'tis not true!
ANTONIO: What have
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NED MYERS
or, A Life Before the Mast
By James Fenimore Cooper.
Thou unrelenting Past!
Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain,
And fetters sure and fast
Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign.
BRYANT
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by
J. Fenimore Cooper,
in the clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for the
Northern district of New York.
Preface
It is an old remark, that the life of any man, could the incidents be
faithfully told, would possess interest and instruction for the general
reader. The conviction of the perfect truth of this saying, has induced
the writer to commit to paper, the vicissitudes, escapes, and opinions of
one of his old shipmates, as a sure means of giving the public some just
notions of the career of a common sailor. In connection with the amusement
that many will find in following a foremast Jack in his perils and
voyages, however, it is hoped that the experience and moral change of
Myers may have a salutary influence on the minds of some of those whose
fortunes have been, or are likely to be, cast in a mould similar to that
of this old salt.
As the reader will feel a natural desire to understand how far the editor
can vouch for the truth of that which he has here written, and to be
informed on the subject of the circumstances that have brought him
acquainted with the individual whose adventures form the subject of this
little work, as much shall be told as may be necessary to a proper
understanding of these two points.
First, then, as to the writer's own knowledge of the career of the
subject of his present work. In the year 1806, the editor, then a lad,
fresh from Yale, and destined for the navy, made his first voyage in a
merchantman, with a view to get some practical knowledge of his
profession. This was the fashion of the day, though its utility, on the
whole, may very well be questioned. The voyage was a long one, including
some six or eight passages, and extending to near the close of the year
1807. On board the ship was Myers, an apprentice to the captain. Ned, as
Myers was uniformly called, was a lad, as well as the writer; and, as a
matter of course, the intimacy of a ship existed between them. Ned,
however, was the junior, and was not then compelled to face all the
hardships and servitude that fell to the lot of the writer.
Once, only, after the crew was broken up, did the writer and Ned actually
see each other, and that only for a short time. This was in 1809. In 1833,
they were, for half an hour, on board the same ship, without knowing the
fact at the time. A few months since, Ned, rightly imagining that the
author of the Pilot must be his old shipmate, wrote the former a letter to
ascertain the truth. The correspondence produced a meeting, and the
meeting a visit from Ned to the editor. It was in consequence of the
revelations made in this visit that the writer determined to produce the
following work.
The writer has the utmost confidence in all the statements of Ned, so far
as intention is concerned. Should he not be mistaken on some points, he is
an exception to the great rule which governs the opinions and
recollections of the rest of the human family. Still, nothing is related
that the writer has any reasons for distrusting. In a few instances he has
interposed his own greater knowledge of the world between Ned's more
limited experience and the narrative; but, this has been done cautiously,
and only in cases in which there can be little doubt that the narrator has
been deceived by appearances, or misled by ignorance. The reader, however,
is not to infer that Ned has no greater information than usually falls to
the share of a foremast hand. This is far from being the case. When first
known to the writer, his knowledge was materially above that of the
ordinary class of lads in his situation; giving ample proof that he had
held intercourse with persons of a condition in life, if not positively of
the rank of gentlemen, of one that was not much below it. In a word, his
intelligence on general subjects was such as might justly render him the
subject of remark on board a ship. Although much of his after-life was
thrown away, portions of it passed in improvement; leaving Ned, at this
moment, a man of quick apprehension, considerable knowledge, and of
singularly shrewd comments. If to this be added the sound and accurate
moral principles that now appear to govern both his acts and his opinions,
we find a man every way entitled to speak for himself; the want of the
habit of communicating his thoughts to the public, alone excepted.
In this book, the writer has endeavoured to adhere as closely to the very
language of his
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Transcriber Notes:
Obvious misspellings and omissions were corrected.
Uncertain misspellings or ancient words were not corrected.
Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not
corrected unless otherwise noted.
The underscores before and after words indicate italics in
the original.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.--The Lenape Stone--(actual size)--Aboriginal
picture representing Indians fighting the Hairy Mammoth--discovered in
Bucks County, Pennsylvania, 1872 and 1881.]
THE LENAPE STONE
OR
THE INDIAN AND THE MAMMOTH
BY
H. C. MERCER
NEW YORK & LONDON
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
The Knickerbocker Press
1885
COPYRIGHT BY
H. C. MERCER
1885
Press of
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
New York
PREFACE.
In claiming an impartial examination of so extraordinary a carving as
the "Lenape Stone" at the hands of archaeologists, the writer has had
several difficulties to contend with.
_First_, The fact that the carving is quite unique, it being the first
aboriginal _carving_ of the mammoth thus far claimed to have been
discovered in North America.
_Second_, That no "scientific observer" was present at the discovery.
_Third_, That since its discovery the Stone has been several times
cleaned, and that thereby many geological tests of its authenticity
have been rendered impossible.
_Fourth_, That within the last few
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[Transcriber’s Note:
Text delimited by equal signs is bold.
Text delimited by underscores is italic.]
LIFE IN AFRIKANDERLAND
LIFE IN AFRIKANDERLAND
AS VIEWED BY AN AFRIKANDER
A Story of Life in South Africa, based on Truth
BY
“CIOS”
[Illustration]
LONDON
DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS
18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C.
1897
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
In all times of stress and struggle, it is not from our friends and
supporters, but from our enemies and opponents, that we receive the
best and most practical instruction. If an evil or a peril exist,
it is surely best to know it; and if serious treason be hatching in
dark places, publicity may easily rob it of its main strength and
neutralise its virulence. Further, in order to rightly understand
racial conflicts--of all the most bitter--we must put ourselves in
our adversary’s place in order to arrive at just conclusions. We are
quite aware that in issuing this uncompromising attack upon British
supremacy in South Africa the writer is viewing everything from an
entirely anti-English standpoint, but surely it is of great practical
importance that we should be accurately informed as to the way in which
our adversaries regard us. More practical instruction can be obtained
thus than in any other manner. The intense hostility of the writer to
England is manifest, and a perusal of these pages is calculated to be
of real service to those to whom, as to ourselves, the solidarity and
permanence of the British Empire is a primary consideration.
Dedication
TO MY MOTHER DO I DEDICATE THIS WORK, WHO, I AM SURE, HAD SHE LIVED TO
READ IT, WOULD HAVE APPROVED THE SENTIMENTS EXPRESSED HEREIN, AND WOULD
HAVE THOROUGHLY SYMPATHISED WITH THE EARNEST OBJECT FOR WHICH THIS WORK
HAS BEEN WRITTEN, VIZ., THE ULTIMATE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH.
CIOS.
PREFACE
TO THE READER,
Gentle Reader, I have written this story in the English language--a
language learned by me, as a foreign language, for the chief purpose of
placing before the English reading public a true and faithful version
of the character and life of an Afrikander. So many libels and false
stories have of late been spread in England and all over the world
about the Boers by enemies of the people inhabiting the Colonies and
States of South Africa, that I could not resist the temptation to write
something in which the truth and nothing but the truth would be told.
I have made the attempt; whether it is to be successful or not, the
reading public must decide.
In this story there is no plot (excepting the Great Complot). It is
simply a story of everyday life, with little or no embellishment. Yet I
trust the reader, in lands far away as well as those living here in my
own beloved native land, will find sufficient to interest him to lead
him on to the end of the book. At the least, there was subject-matter
enough to write about without going out of the paths of Truth. My only
difficulty was not to be led away by my subject and make this work too
large for a first attempt in literature.
The incidents and adventures related, as well as anecdotes by old
Burghers of the South African Republic, are all based upon truth,
and were learned by the writer from the parties themselves. The sad
death by lightning of poor Daniel is true, word for word, even to the
premonition he had of his death, and occurred only as late as the
beginning of this year (1896); and many will recognise the family as
described by the writer.
The writer has mostly made use of Christian names, as all the
characters used in this story are real and living; and it would serve
no purpose to publish real names, while substituted names would only be
misleading. Where politics have been drawn into the story, the reader
may rely upon the truth only having been told of events, as well as
prevailing opinions as expressed by representatives of the different
parties. The latter part of the book is largely devoted to the events
of the New Year (1896) which occurred near Krugersdorp, Johannesburg
and Pretoria, and its results as gathered by one who took note
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BROUGHT HOME.
BY
HESBA STRETTON.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. UPTON RECTORY
CHAPTER II. ANN HOLLAND
CHAPTER III. WHAT WAS HER DUTY?
CHAPTER IV. A BABY'S GRAVE
CHAPTER V. TOWN'S TALK
CHAPTER VI. THE RECTOR'S RETURN
CHAPTER VII. WORSE THAN DEAD
CHAPTER VIII. HUSBAND AND WIFE
CHAPTER IX. SAD DAYS
CHAPTER X. A SIN AND A SHAME
CHAPTER XI. LOST
CHAPTER XII. A COLONIAL CURACY
CHAPTER XIII. SELF-SACRIFICE
CHAPTER XIV. FAREWELLS
CHAPTER XV. IN DESPAIR
CHAPTER XVI. A LONG VOYAGE
CHAPTER XVII. ALMOST SHIPWRECKED
CHAPTER XVIII. SAVED
CHAPTER I.
UPTON RECTORY
So quiet is the small market town of Upton, that it is difficult to
believe in the stir and din of London, which is little more than an
hour's journey from it. It is the terminus of the single line of rails
branching off from the main line eight miles away, and along it three
trains only travel each way daily. The sleepy streets have old-fashioned
houses straggling along each side, with trees growing amongst them; and
here and there, down the roads leading into the the country, which are
half street, half lane,
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GREAT SINGERS
FAUSTINA BORDONI TO HENRIETTA SONTAG
FIRST SERIES
BY
GEORGE T. FERRIS
1891
Copyright, 1879, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
NOTE.
In compiling and arranging the material which enters into the following
sketches of distinguished singers, it is only honest to disclaim any
originality except such as may be involved in a picturesque presentation
of facts. The compiler has drawn freely from a great variety of sources,
and has been simply guided by the desire to give the reading public
such a digest of the more important incidents in the careers of
the celebrities treated of as should be at once compact, racy, and
accurate. To serve this purpose the opinions and descriptions of writers
and critics contemporary with the subjects have been used at length, and
no means overlooked to give the sketches that atmosphere of freshness
which is the outcome of personal observation. All that a compilation of
this kind can hope to effect is best gained in preserving this kind
of vividness, instead of revamping impressions and opinions into
second-hand forms. Pains have been taken to verify dates and facts, and
it is believed they will be found trustworthy.
It will be observed that many well-known singers have been omitted, or
treated only incidentally: among the earlier singers, such as Anas-tasia
Robinson, Mingotti, Anna Maria Crouch, and Anna Selina Storace; among
more recent ones, such as Mmes. Fodor, Cinti-Damoreau, Camperese,
Pisaroni, Miss Catherine Stephens, Mrs. Paton-Wood, Mme. Dorus-Gras, and
Cornelie Falcon. This omission has been indispensable in a work whose
purpose has been to cover only the lives of the very great names
in operatic art, as the question of limit has been inflexible. A
supplementary volume will give similar sketches of later celebrities.
The works from which material has been most freely drawn are as follows:
Bernard's "Retrospection of the Stage"; Dr. Burney's various histories
of music; Chorley's "Thirty Years' Musical Recollections"; Dibdin's
"Complete History of the English Stage"; Ebers's "Seven Years of the
King's Theatre"; Fetis's "Biographie des Musiciens"; Hogarth's "Musical
Drama"; Sutherland Edwards's "History of the Opera"; Arsene Houssaye's
"Galerie des Portraits"; Michael Kelly's "Reminiscences"; Lord Mount
Edgcumbe's "Musical Reminiscences"; Oxberry's "Dramatic Biography and
Histrionic Anecdotes"; Mrs. Clayton's "Queens of Song"; Arthur Simpson's
"Memoirs of Catalani"; and Grove's "Dictionary of Music and Musicians."
CONTENTS.
FAUSTINA BORDONI.
The Art-Battles of Handel's Time.--The Feud between Cuzzoni
and Faustina.--The Character of the Two Rivals as Women and
Artists.--Faustina's Career.--Her Marriage with Adolph Hasse, and
something about the Composer's Music.--Their Dresden Life.--Cuzzoni's
Latter Years.--Sketch of the Great Singer Farinelli.--The Old Age of
Hasse and Faustina
CATARINA GABRIELLI.
The Cardinal and the Daughter of the Cook.--The Young Prima Donna's
_Debut_ in Lucca.--Dr. Burney's Description of Gabrielli.--Her
Caprices, Extravagances, and Meeting with Metastasio.--Her Adventures
in Vienna.--Bry-done on Gabrielli.--Episodes of her Career in Sicily
and Parma.--She sings at the Court of Catharine of Russia.--Sketches
ol Caffarelli and Pacchierotti.--Gabrielli in London, and her Final
Retirement from Art
SOPHIE ARNOULD.
The French Stage as seen by Rousseau.--Intellectual Ferment of the
Period.--Sophie Arnould, the Queen of the most Brilliant of Paris
Salons.--Her Early Life and Connection with Comte de Lauraguais.--Her
Reputation as the Wittiest Woman of the Age.--Art Association with the
Great German Composer, Gluck.--The Rivalries and Dissensions of the
Period.--Sophie's Rivals and Contemporaries, Madame St. Huberty,
the Vestrises Father and Son, Madelaine Guimard.--Opera during the
Revolution.--The Closing Days of Sophie Arnould's Life.--Lord Mount
Edgcumbe's Opinion of her as an Artist
ELIZABETH BILLINGTON AND HER CONTEMPORARIES.
Elizabeth Weichsel's Runaway Marriage.--__Debut__ at Covent
Garden.--Lord Mount Edgcumbe's Opinion of her Singing.--Her Rivalry with
Mme. Mara.--Mrs. Billington's Greatness in English Opera.--She sings in
Italy in 1794-'99.--Her Great Power on the Italian Stage.--Marriage with
Felican.--Reappearance in London in Italian and English Opera.--Sketch
of Mme. Mara's Early Life.--Her Great Triumphs on the
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THE USURPER
Episode in Japanese History
BY
JUDITH GAUTIER
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH
BY
ABBY LANGDON ALGER
BOSTON
ROBERTS BROTHERS
1884
CONTENTS.
I. THE LEMON GROVE
II. NAGATO'S WOUND
III. FEAST OF THE SEA-GOD
IV. THE SISTER OF THE SUN
V. THE KNIGHTS OF HEAVEN
VI. THE FRATERNITY of BLIND MEN
VII. PERJURY
VIII. THE CASTLE OF OWARI
IX. THE TEA-HOUSE
X. THE TRYST
XI. THE WARRIOR-QUAILS
XII. THE WESTERN ORCHARD
XIII. THE MIKADO'S THIRTY-THREE DINNERS
XIV. THE HAWKING-PARTY
XV. THE USURPER
XVI. THE FISHERMEN OF OSAKA BAY
XVII. DRAGON-FLY ISLAND
XVIII. THE PRINCIPALITY OF NAGATO
XIX. A TOMB
XX. THE MESSENGERS
XXI. THE KISAKI
XXII. THE MIKADO
XXIII. FATKOURA
XXIV. THE TREATY OF PEACE
XXV. CONFIDENCES
XXVI. THE GREAT THEATRE OF OSAKA
XXVII. OMITI
XXVIII. HENCEFORTH MY HOUSE SHALL BE AT PEACE
XXIX. THE HIGH-PRIESTESS OF THE SUN
XXX. BATTLES
XXXI. THE FUNERAL PILE
THE USURPER.
AN EPISODE IN JAPANESE HISTORY.
(1615.)
CHAPTER I.
THE LEMON GROVE.
Night was nearly gone. All slept in the beautiful bright city of Osaka.
The harsh cry of the sentinels, calling one to another on the ramparts,
broke the silence, unruffled otherwise save for the distant murmur of
the sea as it swept into the bay.
Above the great dark mass formed by the palace and gardens of the
Shogun[1] a star was fading slowly. Dawn trembled in the air, and the
tree-tops were more plainly outlined against the sky, which grew bluer
every moment. Soon a pale glimmer touched the highest branches, slipped
between the boughs and their leaves, and filtered downward to the
ground. Then, in the gardens of the Prince, alleys thick with brambles
displayed their dim perspective; the grass resumed its emerald hue;
a tuft of poppies renewed the splendor of its sumptuous flowers, and
a snowy flight of steps was faintly visible through the mist, down a
distant avenue.
At last, suddenly, the sky grew purple; arrows of light athwart the
bushes made every drop of water on the leaves sparkle. A pheasant
alighted heavily; a crane shook her white wings, and with a long cry
flew slowly upwards; while the earth smoked like a caldron, and the
birds loudly hailed the rising sun.
As soon as the divine luminary rose from the horizon, the sound of a
gong was heard. It was struck with a monotonous rhythm of overpowering
melancholy,--four heavy strokes, four light strokes; four heavy
strokes, and so on. It was the salute to the coming day, and the call
to morning prayers.
A hearty youthful peal of laughter, which broke forth suddenly, drowned
these pious sounds for an instant; and two men appeared, dark against
the clear sky, at the top of the snowy staircase. They paused a moment,
on the uppermost step, to admire the lovely mass of brambles, ferns,
and flowering shrubs which wreathed the balustrade of the staircase.
Then they descended slowly through the fantastic shadows cast across
the steps by the branches. Reaching the foot of the stairs, they moved
quickly aside, that they might not upset a tortoise creeping leisurely
along the last step. This tortoise's shell had been gilded, but the
gilding was somewhat tarnished by the dampness of the grass. The two
men moved down the avenue.
The younger of the pair was scarcely twenty years old, but would have
passed for more, from the proud expression of his face, and the easy
confidence of his glance. Still, when he laughed, he seemed a child;
but he laughed seldom, and a sort of haughty gloom darkened his noble
brow. His costume was very simple. Over a robe of gray crape he wore a
mantle of blue satin, without any embroidery. He carried an open fan in
his hand.
His comrade's dress was, on the contrary, very elegant
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Produced by David Edwards, JoAnn Greenwood, 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:
[=vowel] indicates vowel with a macron.
[)vowel] indicates vowel with a breve.
_Underscores_ indicate italics.
=Equal signs= indicate bold fonts.
~word~ indicates bold word in slightly smaller font.
* * * * *
GLOSSARY OF WILTSHIRE WORDS
Oxford
HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
A Glossary of Words
USED IN THE
COUNTY OF WILTSHIRE.
BY
GEORGE EDWARD DARTNELL
AND THE
REV. EDWARD HUNGERFORD GODDARD, M.A.
London:
PUBLISHED FOR THE ENGLISH DIALECT SOCIETY
BY HENRY FROWDE, OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE.
AMEN CORNER, LONDON, E.C.
1893.
[_All rights reserved._]
PREFACE
The following pages must not be considered as comprising an
exhaustive Glossary of our Wiltshire Folk-speech. The field is a
wide one, and though much has been accomplished much more still
remains to be done. None but those who have themselves attempted such
a task know how difficult it is to get together anything remotely
approaching a complete list of the dialect words used in a single
small parish, to say nothing of a large county, such as ours. Even
when the words themselves have been collected, the work is little
more than begun. Their range in time and place, their history and
etymology, the side-lights thrown on them by allusions in local or
general literature, their relation to other English dialects, and
a hundred such matters, more or less interesting, have still to be
dealt with. However, in spite of many difficulties and hindrances,
the results of our five years or more of labour have proved very
satisfactory, and we feel fully justified in claiming for this
_Glossary_ that it contains the most complete list of Wiltshire words
and phrases which has as yet been compiled. More than one-half of
the words here noted have never before appeared in any Wiltshire
Vocabulary, many of them being now recorded for the first time for
any county, while in the case of the remainder much additional
information will be found given, as well as numerous examples of
actual folk-talk.
The greater part of these words were originally collected by us
as rough material for the use of the compilers of the projected
_English Dialect Dictionary_, and have been appearing in instalments
during the last two years in the _Wilts Archaeological Magazine_
(vol. xxvi, pp. 84-169, and 293-314; vol. xxvii, pp. 124-159), as
_Contributions towards a Wiltshire Glossary_. The whole list has now
been carefully revised and much enlarged, many emendations being
made, and a very considerable number of new words inserted, either
in the body of the work, or as _Addenda_. A few short stories,
illustrating the dialect as actually spoken now and in Akerman's
time, with a brief _Introduction_ dealing with Pronunciation, &c.,
and _Appendices_ on various matters of interest, have also been
added; so that the size of the work has been greatly increased.
As regards the nature of the dialect itself, the subject has been
fully dealt with by abler pens than ours, and we need only mention
here that it belongs to what is now known as the South-Western group,
which also comprises most of Dorset, Hants, Gloucester, and parts
of Berks and Somerset. The use of dialect would appear gradually
to be dying out now in the county, thanks, perhaps, to the spread
of education, which too often renders the rustic half-ashamed of
his native tongue. Good old English as at base it is,--for many a
word or phrase used daily and hourly by the Wiltshire labourer has
come down almost unchanged, even as regards pronunciation, from his
Anglo-Saxon forefathers,--it is not good enough for him now. One
here, and another there, will have been up to town, only to come back
with a stock of slang phrases and misplaced aspirates, and a large
and liberal contempt for the old speech and the old ways. The natural
result is that here, as elsewhere, every year is likely to add
considerably to the labour of collecting, until in another generation
or so what is now difficult may become an almost hopeless task. No
time should be lost, therefore, in noting down for permanent record
every word and phrase, custom or superstition, still current among
us, that
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Produced by Distributed Proofreaders
[Transcriber's Notes:
Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the end of the work.
This book contains words and phrases in both Greek and Hebrew. Greek
characters have been transliterated using Beta-code. Most of the Hebrew
words and characters are transliterated in the text by the author; those
that were not transliterated by the author have been transliterate in the
ASCII version.]
The Symbolism of Freemasonry:
Illustrating and Explaining
Its Science and Philosophy, its Legends,
Myths and Symbols.
By
Albert G. Mackey, M.D.,
"_Ea enim quae scribuntur tria habere decent, utilitatem praesentem,
certum finem, inexpugnabile fundamentum._"
Cardanus.
1882.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by ALBERT G.
MACKEY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
South Carolina.
To General John C. Fremont.
My Dear Sir:
While any American might be proud of associating his name with that of
one who has done so much to increase the renown of his country, and to
enlarge the sum of human knowledge, this book is dedicated to you as a
slight testimonial of regard for your personal character, and in grateful
recollection of acts of friendship.
Yours very truly,
A. G. Mackey.
Preface.
Of the various modes of communicating instruction to the uninformed, the
masonic student is particularly interested in two; namely, the instruction
by legends and that by symbols. It is to these two, almost exclusively,
that he is indebted for all that he knows, and for all that he can know,
of the philosophic system which is taught in the institution. All its
mysteries and its dogmas, which constitute its philosophy, are intrusted
for communication to the neophyte, sometimes to one, sometimes to the
other of these two methods of instruction, and sometimes to both of them
combined. The Freemason has no way of reaching any of the esoteric
teachings of the Order except through the medium of a legend or a symbol.
A legend differs from an historical narrative only in this--that it is
without documentary evidence of authenticity. It is the offspring solely
of tradition. Its details may be true in part or in whole. There may be no
internal evidence to the contrary, or there may be internal evidence that
they are altogether false. But neither the possibility of truth in the one
case, nor the certainty of falsehood in the other, can remove the
traditional narrative from the class of legends. It is a legend simply
because it rests on no written foundation. It is oral, and therefore
legendary.
In grave problems of history, such as the establishment of empires, the
discovery and settlement of countries, or the rise and fall of dynasties,
the knowledge of the truth or falsity of the legendary narrative will be
of importance, because the value of history is impaired by the imputation
of doubt. But it is not so in Freemasonry. Here there need be no absolute
question of the truth or falsity of the legend. The object of the masonic
legends is not to establish historical facts, but to convey philosophical
doctrines. They are a method by which esoteric instruction is
communicated, and the student accepts them with reference to nothing else
except their positive use and meaning as developing masonic dogmas. Take,
for instance, the Hiramic legend of the third degree. Of what importance
is it to the disciple of Masonry whether it be true or false? All that he
wants to know is its internal signification; and when he learns that it is
intended to illustrate the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, he is
content with that interpretation, and he does not deem it necessary,
except as a matter of curious or antiquarian inquiry, to investigate its
historical accuracy, or to reconcile any of its apparent contradictions.
So of the lost keystone; so of the second temple; so of the hidden ark:
these are to him legendary narratives, which, like the casket, would be of
no value were it not for the precious jewel contained within. Each of
these legends is the expression of a philosophical idea.
But there is another method of masonic instruction, and that is by
symbols. No science is more ancient than that of symbolism. At one time,
nearly all the learning of the world was conveyed in symbols. And although
modern philosophy now deals only in abstract propositions, Freemasonry
still cleaves to the ancient method, and has preserved it in its
primitive importance as a means of communicating knowledge.
According to the derivation of the word from the Greek, "to symbolize"
signifies "to compare one thing with another." Hence a symbol is the
expression of an idea that has been derived from the comparison or
contrast of some object with a moral conception or attribute. Thus we say
that the pl
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Produced by MWS, readbueno and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Third Edition, in One Vol. 8vo, bound in cloth, price 18s. 6d.
THE
ILLUSTRATED HORSE-DOCTOR;
BEING AN ACCURATE AND DETAILED ACCOUNT,
Accompanied by more than 400 Pictorial Representations,
CHARACTERISTIC OF
THE VARIOUS DISEASES TO WHICH THE EQUINE RACE ARE
SUBJECTED;
TOGETHER WITH THE LATEST MODE OF TREATMENT,
AND
ALL THE REQUISITE PRESCRIPTIONS
WRITTEN IN PLAIN ENGLISH
By EDWARD MAYHEW, M.R.C.V.S.
"_A Book which should be in the possession of all
who keep Horses._"
ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR:
Immediately will be published, in One 8vo Volume,
a companion to the above, entitled:
THE
ILLUSTRATED STABLE ECONOMY
with upwards of 400 engravings.
LONDON:
Wm. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.
THE
HORSES OF THE SAHARA
AND THE
MANNERS OF THE DESERT.
THE HORSES
OF THE SAHARA,
AND THE
MANNERS OF THE DESERT.
BY
E. DAUMAS,
GENERAL OF DIVISION COMMANDING AT BORDEAUX,
SENATOR, ETC., ETC.,
WITH COMMENTARIES
BY THE EMIR ABD-EL-KADER.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH
BY JAMES HUTTON.
(THE ONLY AUTHORISED TRANSLATION)
LONDON:
WM. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.
1863.
PUBLISHERS' NOTICE.
In this English version of General Daumas' justly eulogised work on the
Horses of the Sahara and the Manners of the Desert, two or three entire
chapters, besides many isolated passages, have been omitted, which
treated either of veterinary science or of matters little suited to the
taste of general readers in this country. Part the second, which was so
strangely overlooked by the critics of the last French edition, will be
found extremely interesting to all who love the chace and can appreciate
a life of adventure. The description of the sports and pastimes, the
manners and customs of the aristocracy of the African Desert, is
especially worthy of perusal; nor will the quaint remarks of the once
famous Emir Abd-el-Kader fail to command very general respect and
sympathy.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PART THE FIRST.
THE HORSES OF THE SAHARA.
INTRODUCTION 3
Sources of information.
_Remarks by the Emir Abd-el-Kader_ 5
Treatises on the horse.—Anecdote of Abou-Obeïda.
ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ARAB HORSE 7
Curious letter from the Emir Abd-el-Kader.—Four great
epochs.—Creation of the horse.—Change of coats.—Moral
qualities of the thoroughbred.
THE BARB 26
Oneness of the race.—Letter from Abd-el-Kader.—Letter
from M. Lesseps on the Alexandria races.—Weight carried
by African horses.
THE HORSES OF THE SAHARA 33
Traditional love of the horse.—Arab proverbs.—A
popular chaunt.
_Remarks by the Emir Abd-el-Kader_ 44
Superiority of the horses of the Sahara.
BREEDS 47
Incontestable purity of the Saharene Barb.—Endurance
of the Arab horse.—The noble horse.
_Remarks by the Emir Abd-el-Kader_ 59
Two varieties of the horse.
THE SIRE AND THE DAM 65
Treatment of the mare and foal.
_Remarks by the Emir Abd-el-Kader_ 73
Influence of the sire.—Purity of race.
REARING AND BREAKING-IN 75
Early training.—Elementary exercises.—Names.
_Remarks by the Emir Abd-el-Kader_ 107
Names of the Prophet's horses.
DIET 112
Camel's and ewe's milk.—Dates.—Green food.
_Remarks by the Emir Abd-el-Kader_ 118
Repose and fat injurious to a horse.
GROOMING, HYGIENE, PROPORTIONS 121
Selection of food and water.—How to foretell
the size and character of a horse.
_Remarks by the Emir Abd-el-Kader_ 127
Ingenious measurements.
COATS 130
Variety of colours.—Anecdote.—White
spots.—Anecdote.—Tufts.
_Remarks by the Emir Abd-el-Kader_ 136
Favourite coats.—Objectionable coats
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OF SINGING***
E-text prepared by Chuck Greif 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 20069-h.htm or 20069-h.zip:
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(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/0/0/6/20069/20069-h.zip)
CARUSO AND TETRAZZINI ON THE ART OF SINGING
by
ENRICO CARUSO and LUISA TETRAZZINI
Metropolitan Company, Publishers, New York, 1909.
PREFACE
In offering this work to the public the publishers wish to lay before
those who sing or who are about to study singing, the simple,
fundamental rules of the art based on common sense. The two greatest
living exponents of the art of singing--Luisa Tetrazzini and Enrico
Caruso--have been chosen as examples, and their talks on singing have
additional weight from the fact that what they have to say has been
printed exactly as it was uttered, the truths they expound are driven
home forcefully, and what they relate so simply is backed by years of
experience and emphasized by the results they have achieved as the two
greatest artists in the world.
Much has been said about the Italian Method of Singing. It is a question
whether anyone really knows what the phrase means. After all, if there
be a right way to sing, then all other ways must be wrong. Books have
been written on breathing, tone production and what singers should eat
and wear, etc., etc., all tending to make the singer self-conscious and
to sing with the brain rather than with the heart. To quote Mme.
Tetrazzini: "You can train the voice, you can take a raw material and
make it a finished production; not so with the heart."
The country is overrun with inferior teachers of singing; men and women
who have failed to get before the public, turn to teaching without any
practical experience, and, armed only with a few methods, teach these
alike to all pupils, ruining many good voices. Should these pupils
change teachers, even for the better, then begins the weary undoing of
the false method, often with no better result.
To these unfortunate pupils this book is of inestimable value. He or she
could not consistently choose such teachers after reading its pages.
Again the simple rules laid down and tersely and interestingly set forth
not only carry conviction with them, but tear away the veil of mystery
that so often is thrown about the divine art.
Luisa Tetrazzini and Enrico Caruso show what not to do, as well as what
to do, and bring the pupil back to first principles--the art of singing
naturally.
THE ART OF SINGING
By Luisa Tetrazzini
[Illustration: LUISA TETRAZZINI]
LUISA TETRAZZINI
INTRODUCTORY SKETCH OF THE CAREER OF THE WORLD-FAMOUS PRIMA DONNA
Luisa Tetrazzini, the most famous Italian coloratura soprano of the
day, declares that she began to sing before she learned to talk. Her
parents were not musical, but her elder sister, now the wife of the
eminent conductor Cleofante Campanini, was a public singer of
established reputation, and her success roused her young sister's
ambition to become a great artist. Her parents were well to do, her
father having a large army furnishing store in Florence, and they did
not encourage her in her determination to become a prima donna. One
prima donna, said her father, was enough for any family.
Luisa did not agree with him. If one prima donna is good, she argued,
why would not two be better? So she never desisted from her importunity
until she was permitted to become a pupil of Professor Coccherani, vocal
instructor at the Lycee. At this time she had committed to memory more
than a dozen grand opera roles, and at the end of six months the
professor confessed that he could do nothing more for her voice; that
she was ready for a career.
She made her bow to the Florentine opera going public, one of the most
critical in Italy, as Inez, in Meyerbeer's "L'Africaine," and her
success was so pronounced that she was engaged at a salary of $100 a
month, a phenomenal beginning for a young singer. Queen Margherita was
present on the occasion and complimented her highly and prophesied for
her a great career. She asked the trembling debutante how old she was,
and in the embarrassment of the moment Luisa made herself six years
older than she really was. This is one noteworthy instance in which a
public singer failed to discount her age.
Fame came speedily, but for a long time it was confined to Europe and
Latin America. She sang seven seasons in St. Petersburg, three in
Mexico, two in Madrid, four in Buenos Aires, and even on the Pacific
coast of America before she appeared in New York. She had sung Lucia
more than 200 times before her first appearance at Covent Garden, and
the twenty curtain calls she received on that occasion came as the
greatest surprise of her career. She had begun to believe that she could
never be appreciated by English-speaking audiences and the ovation
almost overcame her.
It was by the merest chance that Mme. Tetrazzini ever came to the
Manhattan Opera House in New York. The diva's own account of her
engagement is as follows:
"I was in London, and for a wonder I had a week, a wet week, on my
hands. You know people will do anything in a wet week in London.
"There were contracts from all over the Continent and South America
pending. There was much discussion naturally in regard to settlements
and arrangements of one kind and another.
"Suddenly, just like that"--she makes a butterfly gesture--"M.
Hammerstein came, and just like that"--a duplicate gesture--"I made up
my mind that I would come here. If his offer to me had been seven days
later I should not have signed, and if I had not I should undoubtedly
never have come, for a contract that I might have signed to go elsewhere
would probably have been for a number of years."
Voice experts confess that they are not able to solve the mystery of
Mme. Tetrazzini's wonderful management of her breathing.
"It is perfectly natural," she says. "I breathe low down in the
diaphragm, not, as some do, high up in the upper part of the chest. I
always hold some breath in
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Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
WEBSTER--MAN'S MAN
By Peter B. Kyne
Author Of “Cappy Ricks”
“The Three Godfathers,” Etc.
Illustrated By Dean Cornwell
[Illustration:ustration: 0006]
[Illustration:ustration: 0007]
New York
Doubleday, Page & Company
1917
WEBSTER-MAN'S MAN
CHAPTER I
|WHEN John Stuart Webster, mining engineer and kicker-up-of-dust on
distant trails, flagged the S. P., L. A. & S. L. Limited at a blistered
board station in Death Valley, California, he had definitely resolved to
do certain things. To begin, he would invade the dining car at the first
call to dinner and order approximately twenty dollars' worth of ham and
eggs, which provender is, as all who know will certify, the pinnacle of
epicurean delight to an old sour-dough coming out of the wilderness with
a healthy bankroll and a healthier appetite; for even as the hydrophobic
dog avoids water, so does the adventurer of the Webster type avoid
the weird concoctions of high-priced French chefs until he has first
satisfied that void which yawns to receive ham and eggs.
Following the ham and eggs, Mr. Webster planned to saturate himself from
soul to vermiform appendix with nicotine, which he purposed obtaining
from tobacco with nicotine in it. It was a week since he had smoked
anything, and months since he had tasted anything with an odour even
remotely like tobacco, for the August temperature in Death Valley is no
respecter of moisture in any man or his tobacco. By reason of the fact
that he had not always dwelt in Death Valley, however, John Stuart
Webster knew the dining-car steward would have in the ice chest some
wonderful cigars, wonderfully preserved.
Webster realized that, having sampled civilization thus far, his debauch
would be at an end until he reached Salt Lake City-unless, indeed, he
should find aboard the train something fit to read or somebody worth
talking to. Upon arrival in Salt Lake City, however, his spree would
really begin. Immediately upon leaving the train he would proceed to
a clothing shop and purchase a twenty-five-dollar ready-to-wear suit,
together with the appurtenances thereunto pertaining or in any wise
belonging. These habiliments he would wear just long enough to shop in
respectably and without attracting the attention of the passing throng;
and when later his “tailor-mades” and sundry other finery should be
delivered, he would send the store clothes to one Ubehebe Henry, a
prospector down in the Mojave country, who would appreciate them and
wear them when he came to town in the fall to get drunk.
Having arranged for the delivery of his temporary attire at the best
hotel in town, Webster designed chartering a taxicab and proceeding
forthwith to that hotel, where he would engage a sunny room with a bath,
fill the bathtub, climb blithely in and soak for two hours at least,
for it was nearly eight months since he had had a regular bath and he
purposed making the most of his opportunity. His long-drawn ablutions at
length over, he would don a silken dressing gown and slippers, order up
a barber, and proceed to part with enough hair and whiskers to upholster
an automobile; and upon the completion of his tonsorial adventures he
would encase his person in a suit of mauve- silk pajamas, climb
into bed and stay there for forty-eight hours, merely waking long enough
to take another bath, order up periodical consignments of ham and
eggs and, incidentally, make certain that a friendly side-winder or
chuck-walla hadn't crawled under the blankets with him.
So much for John Stuart Webster's plans. Now for the gentleman himself.
No one--not even the Pullman porter, shrewd judge of mankind that he
was--could have discerned in the chrysalis that flagged the Limited
the butterfly of fashion that was to be. As the ebony George raised
the vestibule platform, opened the car door and looked out, he had no
confidence in the lean, sun-baked big man standing by the train. Plainly
the fellow was not a first-class passenger but a wandering prospector,
for he was dog-dirty, a ruin of rags and hairy as a tarantula. The only
clean thing about him was a heavy-calibred automatic pistol of the army
type, swinging at his hip.
“Day coach an' tourist up in front,” the
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