TIMESTAMP
stringlengths 27
27
| ContextTokens
int64 2
14.1k
| GeneratedTokens
int64 7
1k
| text
stringlengths 4
63.2k
| time_delta
float64 0
3.5k
| idx
int64 0
19.4k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
2023-11-16 18:27:51.5476330
| 1,004 | 403 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber’s Notes: Superscripted characters are preceded by a caret
symbol: y^e. Italic text is enclosed in _underscores_. Other notes may
be found at the end of this eBook.
CARICATURE AND SATIRE
ON
NAPOLEON I.
VOL. I.
WORKS BY JOHN ASHTON.
A HISTORY OF THE CHAP-BOOKS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. With
nearly 400 Illustrations, engraved in facsimile of the
originals. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._
SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE. From Original Sources.
With nearly 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._
6_d._
HUMOUR, WIT, AND SATIRE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. With nearly
100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._
London: CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly.
[Illustration: THE EXILE.
A SKETCH FROM LIFE AT LONGWOOD. APRIL 1820.]
ENGLISH
CARICATURE AND SATIRE
ON
NAPOLEON I.
BY
JOHN ASHTON
AUTHOR OF ‘SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE’ ETC.
[Illustration]
WITH 115 ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR
IN TWO VOLUMES--VOL. I.
London
CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1884
_All rights reserved_
LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET
PREFACE.
This book is not intended to be a History of Napoleon the First, but
simply to reproduce the bulk of the Caricatures and Satires published
in England on our great enemy, with as much of history as may help to
elucidate them.
The majority of the caricatures are humorous; others are silly, or
spiteful--as will occasionally happen nowadays; and some are too coarse
for reproduction--so that a careful selection has had to be made.
Gillray and Rowlandson generally signed their names to the work of
their hands; but, wherever a caricature occurs unsigned by the artist,
I have attributed it, on the authority of the late Edward Hawkins,
Esq., some time Keeper of the Prints at the British Museum, to whatever
artist he has assigned it. I have personally inspected every engraving
herein described, and the description is entirely my own.
Should there, by chance, be an occasional discrepancy as to a date, it
has been occasioned by the inconceivable contradictions which occur
in different histories and newspapers. To cite an instance: in three
different books are given three different dates of Napoleon leaving
Elba, and it was only by the knowledge that it occurred on a Sunday,
and by consulting an almanac for the year 1815, that I was able
absolutely to determine it.
The frontispiece is taken from a very rare print, and gives a
novel view of Napoleon to us, who are always accustomed to see him
represented in military uniform.
That my readers may find some instruction, mingled with the amusement I
have provided for them, is the earnest wish of
JOHN ASHTON.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
BIRTH AND GENEALOGY--HIS OWN ACCOUNT--MAJORCAN OR GREEK
EXTRACTION--ENGLISH BIOGRAPHIES 1
CHAPTER II.
DESCENT FROM THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK--ANAGRAMS, ETC., ON HIS
NAME--THE BEAST OF THE APOCALYPSE--HIS MOTHER’S ACCOUNT OF
HIS BIRTH 7
CHAPTER III.
COUNT MARBŒUF, HIS PUTATIVE FATHER--POVERTY OF THE BONAPARTE
FAMILY--EARLY PERSONAL DESCRIPTION OF NAPOLEON--HIS OWN
ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF--SATIRISTS’ NARRATION OF HIS SCHOOL-DAYS 15
CHAPTER IV.
NAPOLEON AT THE ÉCOLE MILITAIRE--PERSONAL DESCRIPTION--
| 724.867043 | 3,500 |
2023-11-16 18:27:51.8845150
| 455 | 92 |
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: INDUSTRIAL DESPOTISM, SHREWDLY CALLED FREEDOM.
/]
(Illustrating the Wage-Earner’s “Freedom of Contract.”)
WAR—WHAT FOR?
BY
GEORGE R. KIRKPATRICK
“The cannon’s prey has begun to think, and, thinking twice, loses its
admiration for being made a target.”—_Victor Hugo._
“A nod from a lord is a breakfast—for a fool.”—_Proverb._
“The poor souls for whom this hungry war opens its vast jaws.”—_William
Shakespeare._
First Edition, August, 1910.
Second Edition, October, 1910.
Third Edition, December, 1910.
Fourth Edition, April, 1911.
Fifth Edition, Thirtieth Thousand, May, 1911.
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR,
WEST LA FAYETTE, OHIO
COPYRIGHTED, 1910,
BY
GEORGE R. KIRKPATRICK.
All rights reserved,
including that of translation into foreign languages
SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT ON PAGE 350.
WAR—WHAT FOR?
SINGLE COPY, $1.20
Liberal discounts in clubs of 3, 10 and 25 or more.
By the same author:
THINK—OR SURRENDER
About 100 pages of elementary economics, politics and organization—for
the propaganda of Socialism. (Nearly ready.)
[Illustration]
This book is dedicated to the victims of the civil war in industry; that
is, to my brothers and sisters of the working class, the class who
furnish the blood and tears and <DW36>s and corpses in all wars—yet win
no victories for their own class.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Preface 5
Ready 9
An
| 725.203925 | 3,501 |
2023-11-16 18:27:51.9355080
| 1,134 | 402 |
E-text prepared by Melissa McDaniel, Mary Meehan, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustration.
See 43245-h.htm or 43245-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43245/43245-h/43245-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43245/43245-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/lukebarnicottoth00howiiala
LUKE BARNICOTT.
by
WILLIAM HOWITT.
And Other Stories.
Twenty-Eighth Thousand.
Cassell & Company, Limited:
London, Paris, New York & Melbourne.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE STORY OF LUKE BARNICOTT 5
THE CASTLE EAST OF THE SUN 49
THE HOLIDAYS AT BARENBURG CASTLE 67
[Illustration: After Young Luke.]
THE STORY OF LUKE BARNICOTT
BY WILLIAM HOWITT.
The village of Monnycrofts, in Derbyshire, may be said to be a
distinguished village, for though it is not a city set on a hill, it is
a village set on a hill. It may be seen far and wide with its cluster of
red brick houses, and its tall gray-stone church steeple, which has
weathered the winds of many a century. The distant traveller observes
its green upward sloping fields, well embellished by hedgerow trees, and
its clumps of trees springing up amongst its scenes, and half hiding
them, and says to himself as he trots along, "a pleasant look-out must
that hamlet have." And he is right; it has a very pleasant look-out for
miles and miles on three sides of it; the fourth is closed by the
shoulder of the hill, and the woods and plantations of old Squire
Flaggimore. On another hill some half-mile to the left of the village,
as you ascend the road to it, stands a windmill, which with its active
sails always seems to be beckoning everybody from the country round to
come up and see something wonderful. If you were to go up you would see
nothing wonderful, but you would have a fine airy prospect over the
country, and, ten to one, feel a fine breeze blowing that would do your
heart good. You would see the spacious valley of the Erwash winding
along for miles, with its fields all mapped out by its hedges and
hedgerow trees, and its scattered hamlets, with their church towers,
and here and there old woods in dark masses, and on one side the blue
hills of the Peak beckoning still more enticingly than Ives's Mill, to
go there and see something wonderful. On another side you would see
Killmarton Hall and its woods and plantations, and, here and there
amongst them, smoke arising from the engine-houses of coal mines which
abound there; for all the country round Monnycrofts and Shapely, and so
away to Elkstown, there are or have been coal and ironstone mines for
ages. Many an old coal mine still stands yawning in the midst of
plantations that have now grown up round them. Many a score of mines
have been again filled up, and the earth levelled, and a fair
cultivation is here beheld, where formerly colliers worked and caroused,
and black stacks of coals, and heaps of grey shale, and coke fires were
seen at night glimmering through the dark.
Near this mill, Ives's mill, there is another hamlet called Marlpool, as
though people could live in a pool, but it is called Marlpool, as a
kettle is said to boil when only the water boils in it, because it
stands on the edge of a great pool almost amounting to a lake, where
marl formerly was dug, and which has for years been filled with water.
The colliers living there call it the eighth wonder of the world,
because they think it wonderful that a pool should stand on the top of a
hill, though that is no wonder at all, but is seen in all quarters of
the world. But the colliers there are a simple race, that do not travel
much out of their own district, and so have the pleasure of wondering at
many things that to us, being familiar, give no pleasure. So it is that
we pay always something for our knowledge; and the widow Barnicott who
lived on this hill near Ives's mill, at the latter end of the time we
are going to talk of, used to congratulate herself when her memory
failed with age, that it was rather an advantage, because, she said,
everything that she heard was quite new again.
But at the time when my story opens, Beckey Barnicott was not a widow.
She was the wife of Luke Barnicott, the millers man, that is,
| 725.254918 | 3,502 |
2023-11-16 18:27:52.2505980
| 1,316 | 139 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison and The Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note
Footnote 194: Missing reference page number.
Footnotes have been placed at end of their respective chapter.
Obvious punctuation and spelling errors have been repaired.
A STUDY OF ARMY CAMP LIFE DURING AMERICAN REVOLUTION
BY
MARY HAZEL SNUFF
B. S. North-Western College, 1917.
THESIS
Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the
Degree of
MASTER OF ARTS
IN HISTORY
IN
THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
1918
[Illustration]
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
INTRODUCTION 1
Chapter I
HOUSING CONDITIONS 4
Chapter II
FOOD AND CLOTHING 15
Chapter III
HEALTH AND SANITATION 27
Chapter IV
RECREATION IN CAMP 37
Chapter V
RELIGION IN THE CAMP 46
Chapter VI
CAMP DUTIES AND DISCIPLINE 54
BIBLIOGRAPHY 64
INTRODUCTION
The object of this study is to produce a picture of the private soldier
of the American Revolution as he lived, ate, was punished, played,
and worshiped in the army camp. Drawing that picture not only from
the standpoint of the continental congress, the body which made the
rules and regulations for governing the army, or from the officer's
view point as they issued orders from headquarters rather just a
study of the soldier himself in the camp conditions and his reaction
to them. It was easy for congress to determine the rations or for
the commander-in-chief to issue orders about housing conditions and
sanitation, but the opportunities for obeying those orders were not
always the best. It is just that fact, not what was intended, but what
happened, that is to be discussed.
The soldier in camp is an aspect of the Revolutionary War which has
been taken up only in a very general way by writers of that period of
history, except perhaps the conditions at Valley Forge, for at least
their terrible side is quite generally known. Charles Knowles Bolton
has studied the private soldier under Washington[1], but has emphasized
other phases of the soldier's life than those taken up in this study.
The material has been gathered mostly from letters, journals, orderly
books, and diaries of the officers and privates, written while in camp.
The difficulty confronted has been to get the diaries of the private
soldier. They have either not been published or if they have been
published they have been edited in such a way as to make them useless
for a study of social conditions in camp, the emphasis having been
placed on the military operations and tactics rather than the every day
incidents in the soldier's life.
The soldier has been studied after he went into camp. Little has been
said about the conditions which led to the war or the conditions as
they were before the struggle began except as they are used to explain
existing facts. It has been the plan in most of the chapters to give a
brief resume of the plans made by congress or the commander-in-chief
for the working out of that particular part of the organization, then
to describe the conditions as they really were.
There has been no attempt made, for it would be an almost impossible
task, to give a picture of the life in all the camps but rather the
more representative phases have been described or conditions in general
have been discussed.
The first phase of camp life considered is that of the housing
conditions, the difficulties encountered, the description of the huts,
the method of construction, and the furnishing. This is followed in the
second chapter with a study of the food and clothing, the supply and
scarcity of those necessities. The third chapter will have to do with
the health and sanitation of the soldier while encamped, the hospital
system, the number sick, the diseases most prevalent and the means
of prevention. The soldier's leisure time will be the subject of the
fourth chapter, the sort of recreation he had been in the habit of at
home and the ways he found of amusing himself in camp conditions. The
soldier's religion forms the subject matter of the fifth chapter, the
influence of the minister before the war, his place in the army, the
religious exercises in camp and their effect upon the individual and
the war in general. The last chapter will in a way be a recapitulation
of all that has gone before by drawing a picture of a day with a
soldier in camp emphasizing the discipline and duties of camp life.
[Footnote 1: Bolton, _The Private Soldier Under Washington_.]
Chapter I
HOUSING CONDITIONS
The war was on, the Lexington and Concord fray was over, Paul Revere
had made his memorable ride, and the young patriots with enthusiasm
at white heat were swarming from village and countryside leaving
their work and homes. Where they were going they did not know, they
were going to fight with little thought of where they were to live
or what they were to eat and wear. There was a continental congress
but it had little authority and the fact was that very few members
of that mushroom growth army even felt that they were fighting for a
confederation for in their minds they were for the various states,
and it was to the various states they looked for support and it was
to those states that the honors were to go. It was not until the
day before the battle of Bunker Hill that congress had appointed a
commander-in-chief and it was almost a month later when Washington took
command in Boston. There was an army of sixteen thousand men mostly
from the New England States strengthened by about three thousand from
the more southern states during the next month[2]. It was more nearly a
mob
| 725.570008 | 3,503 |
2023-11-16 18:27:52.4203110
| 1,144 | 420 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, Joe C, Charlie Howard, and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian
Libraries)
PLOTINOS
Complete Works
In Chronological Order, Grouped in Four Periods;
With
BIOGRAPHY by PORPHYRY, EUNAPIUS, & SUIDAS,
COMMENTARY by PORPHYRY,
ILLUSTRATIONS by JAMBLICHUS & AMMONIUS,
STUDIES in Sources, Development, Influence;
INDEX of Subjects, Thoughts and Words.
by
KENNETH SYLVAN GUTHRIE,
Professor in Extension, University of the South, Sewanee;
A.M., Sewanee, and Harvard; Ph.D., Tulane, and Columbia.
M.D., Medico-Chirurgical College, Philadelphia.
COMPARATIVE LITERATURE PRESS
P. O. Box 42, ALPINE, N.J., U.S.A.
Copyright, 1918, by Kenneth Sylvan Guthrie.
All Rights, including that of Translation, Reserved.
Entered at Stationers' Hall, by
George Bell and Sons, Portugal Street, Lincoln's Inn, London.
PLOTINOS
Complete Works
In Chronological Order, Grouped in Four Periods;
With
BIOGRAPHY by PORPHYRY, EUNAPIUS, & SUIDAS,
COMMENTARY by PORPHYRY,
ILLUSTRATIONS by JAMBLICHUS & AMMONIUS,
STUDIES in Sources, Development, Influence;
INDEX of Subjects, Thoughts and Words.
by
KENNETH SYLVAN GUTHRIE,
Professor in Extension, University of the South, Sewanee;
A.M., Sewanee, and Harvard; Ph.D., Tulane, and Columbia.
M.D., Medico-Chirurgical College, Philadelphia.
VOL. I
Biographies; Amelian Books, 1-21.
COMPARATIVE LITERATURE PRESS
P. O. Box 42, ALPINE, N.J., U.S.A.
FOREWORD
It is only with mixed feelings that such a work can be published.
Overshadowing all is the supreme duty to the English-speaking world,
and secondarily to the rest of humanity to restore to them in an
accessible form their, till now, unexploited spiritual heritage, with
its flood of light on the origins of their favorite philosophy. And
then comes the contrast--the pitiful accomplishment. Nor could it
be otherwise; for there are passages that never can be interpreted
perfectly; moreover, the writer would gladly have devoted to it every
other leisure moment of his life--but that was impossible. As a matter
of fact, he would have made this translation at the beginning of his
life, instead of at its end, had it not been for a mistaken sense of
modesty; but as no one offered to do it, he had to do it himself. If he
had done it earlier, his "Philosophy of Plotinos" would have been a far
better work.
Indeed, if it was not for the difficulty and expense of putting it
out, the writer would now add to the text an entirely new summary of
Plotinos's views. The fairly complete concordance, however, should
be of service to the student, and help to rectify the latest German
summary of Plotinos, that by Drews, which in its effort to furnish a
foundation for Hartmann's philosophy of the unconscious, neglected both
origins and spiritual aspects. However, the present genetic insight of
Plotinos's development should make forever impossible that theory of
cast-iron coherence, which is neither historical nor human.
The writer, having no thesis such as Drews' to justify, will
welcome all corrections and suggestions. He regrets the inevitable
uncertainties of capitalization (as between the supreme One,
Intelligence World-Soul and Daemon or guardian, and the lower
one, intelligence, soul and demon or guardian); and any other
inconsistencies of which he may have been guilty; and he beseeches the
mantle of charity in view of the stupendousness of the undertaking,
in which he practically could get no assistance of any kind, and also
in view of the almost insuperable difficulties of his own career. He,
however, begs to assure the reader that he did everything "ad majorem
Dei gloriam."
INDEX.
PLOTINOS' COMPLETE WORKS.
Preface 1
Concordance of Enneads and Chronological Numbers 2
Concordance of Chronological Numbers and Enneads 3
Biography of Plotinos, by Porphyry 5
Biographies by Eunapius and Suidas 39
Amelian Books, 1-21 40
Amelio-Porphyrian Books, 22-23 283
Porphyrian Books, 34-45 641
Eustochian Books, 46-54 1017
PLOTINIC STUDIES
IN SOURCES, DEVELOPMENT AND INFLUENCE.
| 725.739721 | 3,504 |
2023-11-16 18:27:52.7039970
| 387 | 73 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)
THE MAGIC OF THE MIDDLE AGES
BY VIKTOR RYDBERG
_Translated from the Swedish_
BY AUGUST HJALMAR EDGREN
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1879
Copyright 1879,
BY HENRY HOLT & CO
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
I. THE COSMIC PHILOSOPHY OF THE MIDDLE AGES,
AND ITS HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT 1
II. THE MAGIC OF THE CHURCH 56
III. THE MAGIC OF THE LEARNED 95
IV. THE MAGIC OF THE PEOPLE AND THE STRUGGLE
OF THE CHURCH AGAINST IT 158
I.
THE COSMIC PHILOSOPHY OF THE MIDDLE AGES, AND ITS HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT.
INTRODUCTORY.
It was the belief of Europe during the Middle Ages, that our globe was the
centre of the universe.
The earth, itself fixed and immovable, was encompassed by ten heavens
successively encircling one another, and all of these except the highest
in constant rotation about their centre.
This highest and immovable heaven, enveloping all the others and
constituting the boundary between created things and the void, infinite
space beyond, is the Empyrean, the heaven of fire, named also by the
Platonizing philosophers the world of archetypes. Here "in a light which
no one can enter," God in triune majesty is sitting on his throne, while
the tones of harmony from the nine
| 726.023407 | 3,505 |
2023-11-16 18:27:52.8534740
| 1,042 | 385 |
Produced by Chris Whitehead and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
SOPHIE MAY'S BOOKS.
_Any volume sold separately._
=DOTTY DIMPLE SERIES.= Six volumes. Illustrated.
Per vol., 75 cents.
Dotty Dimple at her Grandmother's.
Dotty Dimple at Home.
Dotty Dimple out West.
Dotty Dimple at Play.
Dotty Dimple at School.
Dotty Dimple's Flyaway.
=FLAXIE FRIZZLE STORIES.= Illust. Per vol., 75 cts.
Flaxie Frizzle.
Doctor Papa.
Little Pitchers.
The Twin Cousins.
Kittyleen.
(_Others in preparation._)
=LITTLE PRUDY STORIES.= Six vols. Handsomely
Illustrated. Per vol., 75 cts.
Little Prudy.
Little Prudy's Sister Susy.
Little Prudy's Captain Horace.
Little Prudy's Story Book.
Little Prudy's Cousin Grace.
Little Prudy's Dotty Dimple.
=LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY SERIES.= Six vols.
Illustrated. Per vol., 75 cts.
Little Folks Astray.
Prudy Keeping House.
Aunt Madge's Story.
Little Grandmother.
Little Grandfather.
Miss Thistledown.
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON.
[Illustration: "I'M A DOCTOR'S CHILLEN; THEY WON'T BITE ME," SAID
FLAXIE. Page 11.]
[Illustration: Flaxie Frizzle
SERIES
By
SOPHIE MAY
ILLUSTRATED
Doctor Papa.
LEE & SHEPARD BOSTON.]
_FLAXIE FRIZZLE STORIES._
DOCTOR PAPA.
BY
SOPHIE MAY
AUTHOR OF "LITTLE PRUDY STORIES," "DOTTY DIMPLE
STORIES," "LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY STORIES," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED._
BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.
COPYRIGHT,
1877,
BY LEE AND SHEPARD.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE SCARECROW SISTER, 9
II. FLAXIE'S DOSE, 20
III. THE KNITTING-WORK PARTY, 36
IV. MAKING FLAXIE HAPPY, 54
V. BETTER THAN A KITTEN, 68
VI. THE STRANGE RIDE, 82
VII. MAKING CALLS, 96
VIII. TEASING MIDGE, 113
IX. THE WEE WHITE ROSE, 127
X. PRESTON'S GOLD DOLLAR, 137
XI. PRESTON KEEPING HOUSE, 158
XII. MRS. PRIM'S STRAWBERRIES, 174
FLAXIE FRIZZLE AND DR. PAPA.
CHAPTER I.
THE SCARECROW SISTER.
One morning little Miss Frizzle danced about her brother Preston, as he
was starting for school, saying,--
"If a little boy had one poggit full o' pinnuts, and one poggit full o'
canny, and one in his hands, how many would he be?"
This was a question in arithmetic; and, though Preston was a large boy,
he could not answer it.
"Answer it yourself," said he, laughing.
"He'd have fousands and fousands--as many as _four hundred_!" said
Flaxie, promptly.
"Shouldn't wonder! What's the need of my going to school, when I have a
little sister at home that knows so much?" cried Preston, kissing her
and hurrying away.
Flaxie wished he and her sister Julia--or Ninny, as she called
her--could stay with her all the time. She was lonesome when they were
both gone; and to-day her mamma said she must not go out of doors
because her throat was sore.
She stood for awhile by the kitchen window, looking at the meadow
behind the house. It was sprinkled all over with dandelions, so bright
and gay that Flaxie fancied they were laughing. _They_ didn't have
sore throats. O, no! they could stay out
| 726.172884 | 3,506 |
2023-11-16 18:27:53.3191280
| 736 | 300 |
Produced by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet
Archive/American Libraries.)
DIRECTIONS
FOR
COOKING BY TROOPS,
IN
CAMP AND HOSPITAL,
PREPARED FOR THE ARMY OF VIRGINIA, AND PUBLISHED
BY ORDER OF THE SURGEON GENERAL:
WITH ESSAYS ON
"TAKING FOOD," AND "WHAT FOOD,"
BY FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
J. W. RANDOLPH:
121 MAIN STREET, RICHMOND, VA.
1861.
Directions for Cooking in Camp.
No. 1.
COFFEE FOR ONE HUNDRED MEN, ONE PINT EACH.
Put 12 gallons water into a suitable vessel (or divide if necessary),
on the fire; when boiling, add 3 lbs. ground coffee, mix well with a
spoon; leave on the fire a few minutes longer; take it off, and pour in
½ a gallon cold water; let it stand till the dregs subside, say from 5
to 10 minutes; then pour off and add 6 lbs. sugar. If milk is used, put
in 12 pints, and diminish the water by that amount.
No. 2.
FRESH BEEF SOUP FOR ONE HUNDRED MEN.
Take 75 lbs. beef; cut into pieces of about ¼ lb. each; 15 gallons
water; 8 lbs. mixed vegetables; 10 small tablespoonfuls salt; 2 small
tablespoonfuls ground pepper; some cold bread, crackers, or 3 lbs.
rice, to thicken; place on the fire; let it come to a boil; then simmer
for 3 hours. Skim off the fat and serve.
No. 3.
SOYER'S STEW FOR ONE HUNDRED MEN.
Cut 50 lbs. fresh beef in pieces of about ¼ lb. each, and with 18
quarts of water put into the boiler; add 10 tablespoonfuls of salt, two
of pepper, 7 lbs. onions, cut in slices, and 20 lbs. potatoes peeled
and sliced; stir well, and let it boil for 20 or 30 minutes; then add
1½ lbs. flour previously mixed with water; mix well together, and with
a moderate heat simmer for about two hours. Mutton, veal or pork can be
stewed in a similar manner, but will take half an hour less cooking. A
pound of rice or plain dumplings may be added with great advantage.
No. 4.
SUET DUMPLINGS.
Take 10 lbs. flour, 15 teaspoonfuls of salt, 7 of ground pepper, 7 lbs.
chopped fat pork or suet, 5 pints water; mix well together; divide into
about 150 pieces; which roll in flour, and boil with meat for 20 or 30
minutes.—If no fat or suet can be obtained, take the same ingredients,
adding a little more water, and boil about 10 minutes. Serve with the
meat.
No. 5.
TO FRY MEAT.
Place your pan on the fire for a minute or so; wipe it clean; when
the pan is hot, put in either fat or butter (fat from salt meat
is preferable); then add the meat
| 726.638538 | 3,507 |
2023-11-16 18:27:53.7624130
| 379 | 93 |
Produced by KD Weeks, Charlene Taylor and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber's Note
This version of the text is unable to reproduce certain typographic
features. Italics are delimited with the '_' character as _italic_.
Superscripts are used in certain period quotations (e.g., y^e), are
represents, as shown, with the carat character. Should more than one
character be superscripted, they are enclosed in brackets (e.g.,
Y^{or}). The 'oe' ligature appears only in the words'manoeuvring',
and is rendered as separate characters. Words printed using small
capitals are shifted to all upper-case.
Footnotes have been relocated to the end of paragraph breaks or tables,
and are assigned sequential letters.
Please consult the notes at the end of this text for a more detailed
discussion of any other issues that were encountered during its
preparation.
[Illustration: STATUE OF ROGER WILLIAMS.]
A
SHORT HISTORY
OF
RHODE ISLAND,
BY
GEORGE WASHINGTON GREENE, LL.D.,
LATE NON-RESIDENT PROFESSOR OF AMERICAN HISTORY IN CORNELL
UNIVERSITY; AUTHOR OF "THE LIFE OF MAJOR-GENERAL
NATHANAEL GREENE;" "HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE
AMERICAN REVOLUTION," ETC., ETC.
[Illustration]
PROVIDENCE:
J. A. & R. A. REID, PUBLISHERS,
1877.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 187
| 727.081823 | 3,508 |
2023-11-16 18:27:53.8605520
| 1,312 | 138 |
Produced by Larry Harrison, Cindy Beyer, Ross Cooling and
the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at
http://www.pgdpcanada.net with images provided by The
Internet Archives-US
ANTHROPOLOGICAL PAPERS
OF THE
American Museum of Natural
History.
Vol. I, Part II.
SOME PROTECTIVE DESIGNS OF THE DAKOTA.
BY
CLARK WISSLER.
NEW YORK:
Published by Order of the Trustees.
February, 1907.
American Museum of Natural History.
PUBLICATIONS IN ANTHROPOLOGY.
The results of research conducted by the Anthropological staff of the
Museum, unless otherwise provided for, are published in a series of
octavo volumes of about 350 pages each, issued in parts at irregular
intervals, entitled Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of
Natural History. The Anthropological work of the Museum is organized
under two heads. The Department of Ethnology exercises curatorial
functions in ethnography, ethnology and physical anthropology and in all
archæology except that pertaining to the present confines of Mexico and
the Central American States which has been delegated to a distinct
department entitled the Department of Archæology. This series of
publications aims to give the results of field-work conducted by the
above departments, supplemented by the study of collections in the
Museum. The editorial responsibilities are administered by the Curator
of the Department of Ethnology.
The following are on sale at the Museum at the prices stated.
Vol. I. Part I. Technique of some South American Feather-work. By
Charles
W. Mead. Pp. 1-18, Plates I-IV, and 14 text figures.
January,
1907. Price, $0.25.
Part II. Some Protective Designs of the Dakota. By Clark
Wissler.
Pp. 19-54, Plates V-VII, and 26 text figures, February,
1907.
Price, $0.50.
ANTHROPOLOGICAL PAPERS
OF THE
AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY
VOL. I, PART II.
SOME PROTECTIVE DESIGNS OF THE DAKOTA.
BY CLARK WISSLER.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION
SHIELD-DESIGNS
GHOST-DANCE DESIGNS
THE HOOP
THE WHIRLWIND
THE THUNDER
THE SPIDER
CONCLUSION
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PLATES.
V. Model of a Shield, Museum No. 50-2929. Diameter,
39 cm.
VI. Shield-design on a Cape, Museum No. 50-3102. Width
of cape, 178 cm.
VII. Model of a Shield, Museum No. 50-5467. Diameter,
46 cm.
TEXT FIGURES.
1. Shield-cover with Design
2. Shield-design, from a Drawing by a Native
3. Drawing, by a Native, of a Shield-cover
4. Shield-design, from a Drawing by a Native
5. Spider-design for a Shield, from a Drawing by a
Native
6. Shield-design, from a Drawing by the Man who
dreamed of it
7. Shield-design representing a Thunderstorm, from a
Drawing by a Native
8. Model of a Shield with Pictographic Design
9. Design on Sioux Shield captured by a Fox Indian
10. Front of a Ghost-dance Garment
11. Back of Garment shown in Fig. 10
12. Designs on the Front of Ghost-dance Garment
13. Designs on the Back of Garment shown in Fig. 12
14. Front of a Ghost-dance Garment bearing Dragon-fly
Design
15. Back of Garment shown in Fig. 14
16. Circular Design upon a Shirt
17. Sketch, by a Native, of an Elk-mystery Dancer
carrying a Hoop with a Mirror in the Centre
18. Engraved Metal Cross
19. Engraved Bone Object
20. Whirlwind Design, from the Handle of a Club
21. Whirlwind Design, from a Popgun
22. Whistle, of Bone
23. Design of a Spider-web
24. Sketch of a Robe for the Medicine-bow Owner
25. Design on a Metal Belt-ornament
26. Design of the Spider-web on a Straight Pipe
INTRODUCTION.
The decorative art of the Dakota has been treated in a preceding paper,
in which brief mention was made of religious art, or that art in which
there was a definite, unmistakable motive on the part of the artist to
represent mythical or philosophical ideas. In this more serious art, a
large number of designs may be characterized as “protective designs,”
because their presence or possession is in part a protection. The idea
in a protective design seems to be a symbolical appeal to the source or
concrete manifestation of a protective power. It is not easy to get the
point of view and the spirit of the faith that make these designs
significant, but from the detailed explanations of them some general
idea can be formed. The descriptions given in this paper are based upon
the statements of Indians, in most cases the executers of the designs.
The attitude of the reader toward such a study as this is often that of
concluding that the points of view set forth by a writer are universal
in the tribe. This leads to a great deal of superficial criticism. In
the opinion of the writer, any rejection of such study because one or
two or several Indians deny all knowledge of some or all of the specific
native accounts upon which conclusions are based, is absurd. We might as
well test the
| 727.179962 | 3,509 |
2023-11-16 18:27:53.9348070
| 1,169 | 421 |
E-text prepared by Larry B. Harrison, Charlie Howard, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 53897-h.htm or 53897-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53897/53897-h/53897-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53897/53897-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/trailsofpathfind00grinrich
Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
* * * * * *
IN THE SAME SERIES
PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
=The Boy’s Catlin.= My Life Among the Indians, by GEORGE
CATLIN. Edited by MARY GAY HUMPHREYS. Illustrated.
12mo. _net_ $1.50
=The Boy’s Hakluyt.= English Voyages of Adventure and
Discovery, retold from Hakluyt by EDWIN M. BACON.
Illustrated. 12mo. _net_ $1.50
=The Boy’s Drake.= By EDWIN M. BACON. Illustrated. 12mo.
_net_ $1.50
=Trails of the Pathfinders.= By GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL.
Illustrated. 12mo. _net_ $1.50
* * * * * *
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
[Illustration:
CAPTAINS LEWIS AND CLARK WERE MUCH PUZZLED AT THIS POINT TO KNOW
WHICH OF THE RIVERS BEFORE THEM WAS THE MAIN MISSOURI.]
TRAILS OF THE PATHFINDERS
by
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL
Author of “Blackfoot Lodge Tales,” “Pawnee Hero
Stories and Folk Tales,” “The Story of the
Indian,” “Indians of Today,” etc.
Illustrated
New York
Charles Scribner’S Sons
1911
Copyright, 1911, by
Charles Scribner’S Sons
Published April, 1911
[Illustration]
PREFACE
The chapters in this book appeared first as part of a series of
articles under the same title contributed to _Forest and Stream_
several years ago. At the time they aroused much interest and there was
a demand that they should be put into book form.
The books from which these accounts have been drawn are good reading
for all Americans. They are at once history and adventure. They deal
with a time when half the continent was unknown; when the West--distant
and full of romance--held for the young, the brave and the hardy,
possibilities that were limitless.
The legend of the kingdom of El Dorado did not pass with the passing of
the Spaniards. All through the eighteenth and a part of the nineteenth
century it was recalled in another sense by the fur trader, and with
the discovery of gold in California it was heard again by a great
multitude--and almost with its old meaning.
Besides these old books on the West, there are many others which every
American should read. They treat of that same romantic period, and
describe the adventures of explorers, Indian fighters, fur hunters and
fur traders. They are a part of the history of the continent.
NEW YORK, _April_, 1911.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTION 3
II. ALEXANDER HENRY--I 13
III. ALEXANDER HENRY--II 36
IV. JONATHAN CARVER 57
V. ALEXANDER MACKENZIE--I 84
VI. ALEXANDER MACKENZIE--II 102
VII. ALEXANDER MACKENZIE--III 121
VIII. LEWIS AND CLARK--I 138
IX. LEWIS AND CLARK--II 154
X. LEWIS AND CLARK--III 169
XI. LEWIS AND CLARK--IV 179
XII. LEWIS AND CLARK--V 190
XIII. ZEBULON M. PIKE--I 207
XIV. ZEBULON M. PIKE--II 226
XV. ZEBULON M. PIKE--III 238
XVI. ALEXANDER HENRY (THE YOUNGER)--I 253
XVII. ALEXANDER HENRY (THE YOUNGER)--II 271
XVIII. ALEXANDER HENRY (THE YOUNGER)--III 287
XIX. ROSS COX--I 301
XX. ROSS COX--II 319
XX
| 727.254217 | 3,510 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.0742530
| 408 | 129 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Bryan Ness, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber's Note
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and
punctuation remains unchanged.
WORKS
_Preparing for Publication._
LAYS AND LEGENDS OF FANCY AND FABLE.
A Collection of Oriental Tales,
ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE IMAGINATIVE CHARACTER OF DIFFERENT
AGES AND NATIONS:
Designed to elucidate the philosophy of fiction as well as to
afford specimens of those marvels which have entered into popular
belief, and taken a permanent place in literature. The classical
inventions of the Greeks, the romantic fables of the middle ages,
the gorgeous and sometimes gloomy conceptions of the orientals, and
our own pleasing superstitions of fairy lore, will be exemplified
by specimens, and the influence of fancy on belief will be
illustrated by a variety of legends most of which have not hitherto
been brought before the English public. By W. C. TAYLOR, L.L.D.
Adorned with Twenty beautiful line Engravings on Steel, from
pictures by British Artists, and several Woodcuts, elegantly
printed in demy 4to, and richly bound in gilt, _Price_ 21_s._
THE BOOK OF ART; Or, Cartoons, Frescoes, Sculpture, and Decorative
Art, as applied to the New Houses of Parliament, as also to
building in general: with an Appendix, containing an Historical
Notice of the Exhibitions in Westminster Hall.
The Volume, which will contain at least One
| 727.393663 | 3,511 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.0966370
| 1,019 | 396 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
[Transcriber's Note: Underscores are used as delimiter for _italics_]
GIBRALTAR
[Illustration: THE ALAMEDA PARADE.]
GIBRALTAR
BY
Henry M. Field
_ILLUSTRATED_
LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, Limited.
1889.
[_All rights reserved._]
TROW'S
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
NEW YORK.
To My Friend and Neighbor
IN THE BERKSHIRE HILLS,
JOSEPH H. CHOATE,
WHO FINDS IT A RELIEF NOW AND THEN
TO TURN FROM THE HARD LABORS OF THE LAW
TO THE ROMANCE OF TRAVEL:
I SEND AS A CHRISTMAS PRESENT
A STORY OF FORTRESS AND SIEGE
THAT MAY BEGUILE A VACANT HOUR
AS HE SITS BEFORE HIS WINTER EVENING FIRE.
PREFACE.
The common tour in Spain does not include Gibraltar. Indeed it is not
a part of Spain, for, though connected with the Spanish Peninsula, it
belongs to England; and to one who likes to preserve a unity in his
memories of a country and people, this modern fortress, with its English
garrison, is not "in color" with the old picturesque kingdom of the
Goths and Moors. Nor is it on the great lines of travel. It is not
touched by any railroad, and by steamers only at intervals of days, so
that it has come to be known as a place which it is at once difficult
to get to and to get away from. Hence easy-going travellers, who are
content to take circular tickets and follow fixed routes, give Gibraltar
the go-by, though by so doing they miss a place that is unique in the
world--unique in position, in picturesqueness, and in history. That
mighty Rock, "standing out of the water and in the water," (as on the
day when the old world perished;) is one of the Pillars of Hercules,
that once marked the very end of the world; and around its base ancient
and modern history flow together, as the waters of the Atlantic mingle
with those of the Mediterranean. Like Constantinople, it is throned on
two seas and two continents. As Europe at its southeastern corner stands
face to face with Asia; at its southwestern it is face to face with
Africa: and these were the two points of the Moslem invasion. But here
the natural course of history was reversed, as that invasion began in
the West. Hundreds of years before the Turk crossed the Bosphorus, the
Moor crossed the Straits of Gibraltar. His coming was the signal of an
endless war of races and religions, whose lurid flames lighted up
the dark background of the stormy coast. The Rock, which was the
"storm-centre" of all those clouds of war, is surely worth the attention
of the passing traveller. That it has been so long neglected, is the
sufficient reason for an attempt to make it better known.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I. Entering the Straits, 1
II. Climbing the Rock, 12
III. The Fortifications, 18
IV. Round the Town, 29
V. Parade on the Alameda, and Presentation of Colors
to the South Staffordshire Regiment, 35
VI. The Society of Gibraltar, 48
VII. A Chapter of History--The Great Siege, 63
VIII. Holding a Fortress in a Foreign Country, 110
IX. Farewell to Gibraltar--Leaving for Africa, 128
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Alameda Parade, _Frontispiece_.
FACING PAGE
The Lion Couchant, 4
General View of the Rock, 12
The Signal Station, 14
The New Mole and Rosia Bay, 19
The Saluting Battery, 27
Walk in the Alameda Gardens, 62
Catalan Bay, on the East Side of Gibraltar, 65
Plan of Gibraltar, 71
"Old Eliott," the Defender of Gibraltar, 108
Windmill Hill and O'Hara's Tower, 132
Europa Point, 143
CHAPTER I.
ENTERING THE STRA
| 727.416047 | 3,512 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.1030460
| 395 | 126 |
Produced by Marius Masi, Don Kretz and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's notes:
(1) Numbers following letters (without space) like C2 were originally
printed in subscript. Letter subscripts are preceded by an
underscore, like C_n.
(2) Characters following a carat (^) were printed in superscript.
(3) Side-notes were relocated to function as titles of their respective
paragraphs.
(4) Macrons and breves above letters and dots below letters were not
inserted.
(5) [int] stands for the integral symbol; [alpha], [beta], etc. for
greek letters and [oo] for infinity.
(6) The following typographical errors have been corrected:
ARTICLE FORESTS AND FORESTRY: "These trees will all be of
increasing importance." 'will' amended from 'wil'.
ARTICLE FORM : "All perception is necessarily conditioned by pure
'forms of sensibility,' i.e. space and time: whatever is perceived
is perceived as having spacial and temporal relations (see SPACE
AND TIME; KANT)."'spacial' amended from'special'.
ARTICLE FORMOSA: "The vegetation of the island is characterized by
tropical luxuriance,--the mountainous regions being clad with dense
forest, in which various species of palms, the camphor-tree (Laurus
Camphora), and the aloe are conspicuous."'mountainous' amended
from'moutainous'.
ARTICLE FORMOSA: "... in 1624 they built a fort, Zelandia, on the
east coast, where subsequently rose the town of Taiwan, and the
settlement was maintained for thirty-seven years." 'thirty' amended
from
| 727.422456 | 3,513 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.3192260
| 1,191 | 464 |
Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
Transcriber's Note:
1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/picturesgermanl03freygoog
PICTURES OF GERMAN LIFE
IN THE
EIGHTEENTH AND NINETEENTH CENTURIES.
SECOND SERIES.
* * * * *
VOL. II.
PICTURES
OF
GERMAN LIFE
In the XVIIIth and XIXth Centuries.
Second Series.
BY
GUSTAV FREYTAG.
Translated from the Original by
MRS. MALCOLM.
_COPYRIGHT EDITION.--IN TWO VOLUMES_.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY.
1863.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
Away from the Garrison (1700).--The army, and the constitution
of the State--The country militia and their history--The soldiery of
the Sovereign--Change of organisation after the war--The beginning
of compulsory levies about 1700--Gradual introduction of
conscription--Recruiting and its illegalities--Desertions--Trafficking
with armies--The Prussian army under Frederic William I.--The regiment
of guards at Potsdam--Prussian officers--Ulrich Braecker--Narrative of a
Prussian deserter
CHAPTER VIII.
The State of Frederic the Great (1700).--The kingdom of the
Hohenzollerns, its small size; character of the people and
princes--Childhood of Frederic--Opposition to his
father--Catastrophe--Training and its influence on his character--His
marriage and relations with women--Residence in Rheinsberg--His
character when he became King--Striking contrast between his poetic
warmth and his inexorable severity--Inward change in the course of the
first Silesian war--Loss of the friends of his youth--The literary
period till 1766--His poetry, historical writings, and literary
versatility--Seven years of iron labour--His method of carrying on war,
and heroic struggle--Admiration of Germans and foreigners--His
sufferings and endurance--Extracts from Frederic's Letters from
1767-1762--Principles of his government--Improvement of
Silesia--Difference betwixt the Prussian and Austrian
government--Feeling of duty in the Prussian officials--Acquisition
of West Prussia--Miserable condition in 1772--Agriculture of
Frederic--His last years
CHAPTER IX.
Of the Year of Tuition of the German Citizen (1790).--Influence of
Frederic on German art, philosophy, and historical writing--Poetry
flourishes--The aspect of a city in 1790--The coffee gardens and
the theatres--Travelling and love of the picturesque--Different
sources of morals and activity amongst the nobles, citizens, and
peasants--Characteristics of the life of the country nobles--The piety
of the country people--Education of the citizens--Advantages of the
Latin schools and of the university education--The sentimentality and
change in the literary classes from 1750-1790--The Childhood of Ernst
Frederic Haupt
CHAPTER X.
The Period of Ruin (1800).--The condition of Germany--Courts and cities
of the Empire--People and armies of the Empire--The emigrants--Effect
of the revolution on the Germans--The Prussian State--Its rapid
increase--Von Held--Bureaucracy--The army--The Generals--The
downfall--Narrative of the Years 1806-1807, by Christoph Wilhelm
Heinrich Sethe--His life
CHAPTER XI.
Rise of the Nation (1807-1815).--Sorrowful condition of the people in
the year 1807--The first signs of rising strength--Hatred of the French
Emperor--Arming of Prussia--Character and importance of the movement of
1813--Napoleon's flight--Expedition of the French to Russia in
1812, and return in 1813--The Cossacks--The people rise--General
enthusiasm--The volunteer Jaegers and patriotic gifts--The Landwehr
and the Landsturm--The first combat--Impression of the war on the
citizens--The enemy in the city--The course of the war--The celebration
of victory
CHAPTER XII.
Illness and Recovery (1815-1848).--The time of reaction--Hopelessness
of the German question--Discontent and exhaustion of the
Prussians--Weakness of the educated classes in the north of
Germany--The development of practical activity--The South Germans and
their village tales--Description of a Village School by Karl Mathy
CONCLUSION.--The Hohenzollerns and the German citizens
PICTURES OF GERMAN LIFE.
Second Series.
CHAPTER VII.
AWAY FROM THE GARRISON.
(1700.)
A shot from the alarm-gun! Timidly does the citizen examine the dark
corners of his house to discover whether any strange man be hid there.
| 727.638636 | 3,514 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.3797400
| 932 | 102 |
Produced by Julia Miller, Paul Clark and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible. Some changes have been made. They are listed at the end of
the text.
The illustration "On Saddle and Pillion" is the frontispiece, but the
list of illustrations has it "Face p. 28".
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
Bold text has been marked with =equals signs=.
HORSES PAST AND PRESENT
[Illustration: SADDLE AND PILLION.
(From "The Procession of the Flitch of Bacon," by THOMAS STOTHARD,
R.A.)]
HORSES
PAST AND PRESENT
BY
SIR WALTER GILBEY, BART.
ILLUSTRATED
VINTON & Co., LTD.
9, NEW BRIDGE STREET, LONDON, E.C.
1900
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Introduction 1
Before the Conquest 2
William the Conqueror 5
William Rufus 7
Henry I. 7
Henry II. 8
Richard I. 9
John 10
Edward II. 11
Edward III. 12
Richard II. 15
Henry VII. 17
Henry VIII. 18
Edward VI. and Queen Mary 22
Elizabeth 24
James I. 30
Charles I. 33
The Commonwealth 36
Charles II. 38
William III. 41
Queen Anne 43
George I. 46
George II. 48
George III. 52
George IV. 59
William IV. 60
Her Majesty Queen Victoria 62
Light Horses: Breed--Societies 88
Heavy Horses: Breed--Societies 89
ILLUSTRATIONS.
A Cart-Horse of the XVth Century Face p. 16
On Saddle and Pillion " 28
Guy, Earl of Warwick, XVIth Century " 32
The Darley Arabian " 46
Jacob Bates, The Trick Rider " 52
Grey Diomed " 55
Hunter Sire, Cognac " 64
The Hack Hunter " 70
The Norfolk Phenomenon " 80
_This brief history of the Horse in England to the close of the
nineteenth century is a compilation which, it is hoped, may prove
useful as well as interesting._
_So much has been done to improve our breeds of horses since the year
1800, and so many and important have been the changes in our methods
of travel, in the use of heavy horses in agriculture, in hunting,
racing and steeplechasing, that the latter portion of the book might be
amplified indefinitely._
_It is not thought necessary to do more than touch briefly upon the
more important events which have occurred during Her Majesty's reign._
_The interesting and instructive work by Mr. Huth, which contains the
titles of all the books written in all languages relating to the Horse
shows that the number published up to the year 1886 exceeds 4,060: and
since that date, works on the Horse, embracing veterinary science,
breeding, cavalry, coaching, racing, hunting and kindred subjects,
have been issued from the publishing houses of Europe at the rate of
about two per month. During the ten years 1886-95 upwards of 232 such
works were issued, and there has been no perceptible decrease during
the last four years._
_Under these circumstances an apology for adding to the mass of
literature on the Horse seems almost necessary._
WG
_Elsenham Hall, Essex,
November, 1900._
HORSES PAST AND PRESENT.
First among animals which man has domesticated, or brought under
control to do him service, stands the horse. The beauty
| 727.69915 | 3,515 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.3947400
| 4,101 | 138 |
Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Buffalo Bill's Spy Trailer
OR,
THE STRANGER IN CAMP
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham
Author of the celebrated "Buffalo Bill" stories published in the BORDER
STORIES. For other titles see catalogue.
[Illustration]
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1908
By STREET & SMITH
Buffalo Bill's Spy Trailer
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
IN APPRECIATION OF WILLIAM F. CODY
(BUFFALO BILL).
It is now some generations since Josh Billings, Ned Buntline, and
Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, intimate friends of Colonel William F. Cody,
used to forgather in the office of Francis S. Smith, then proprietor of
the _New York Weekly_. It was a dingy little office on Rose Street, New
York, but the breath of the great outdoors stirred there when these
old-timers got together. As a result of these conversations, Colonel
Ingraham and Ned Buntline began to write of the adventures of Buffalo
Bill for Street & Smith.
Colonel Cody was born in Scott County, Iowa, February 26, 1846. Before
he had reached his teens, his father, Isaac Cody, with his mother and
two sisters, migrated to Kansas, which at that time was little more than
a wilderness.
When the elder Cody was killed shortly afterward in the Kansas "Border
War," young Bill assumed the difficult role of family breadwinner.
During 1860, and until the outbreak of the Civil War, Cody lived the
arduous life of a pony-express rider. Cody volunteered his services as
government scout and guide and served throughout the Civil War with
Generals McNeil and A. J. Smith. He was a distinguished member of the
Seventh Kansas Cavalry.
During the Civil War, while riding through the streets of St. Louis,
Cody rescued a frightened schoolgirl from a band of annoyers. In true
romantic style, Cody and Louisa Federci, the girl, were married March 6,
1866.
In 1867 Cody was employed to furnish a specified amount of buffalo meat
to the construction men at work on the Kansas Pacific Railroad. It was
in this period that he received the sobriquet "Buffalo Bill."
In 1868 and for four years thereafter Colonel Cody served as scout and
guide in campaigns against the Sioux and Cheyenne Indians. It was
General Sheridan who conferred on Cody the honor of chief of scouts of
the command.
After completing a period of service in the Nebraska legislature, Cody
joined the Fifth Cavalry in 1876, and was again appointed chief of
scouts.
Colonel Cody's fame had reached the East long before, and a great many
New Yorkers went out to see him and join in his buffalo hunts, including
such men as August Belmont, James Gordon Bennett, Anson Stager, and
J. G. Heckscher. In entertaining these visitors at Fort McPherson, Cody
was accustomed to arrange wild-West exhibitions. In return his friends
invited him to visit New York. It was upon seeing his first play in the
metropolis that Cody conceived the idea of going into the show business.
Assisted by Ned Buntline, novelist, and Colonel Ingraham, he started his
"Wild West" show, which later developed and expanded into "A Congress of
the Rough-riders of the World," first presented at Omaha, Nebraska. In
time it became a familiar yearly entertainment in the great cities of
this country and Europe. Many famous personages attended the
performances, and became his warm friends, including Mr. Gladstone, the
Marquis of Lorne, King Edward, Queen Victoria, and the Prince of Wales,
now King of England.
At the outbreak of the Sioux, in 1890 and 1891, Colonel Cody served at
the head of the Nebraska National Guard. In 1895 Cody took up the
development of Wyoming Valley by introducing irrigation. Not long
afterward he became judge advocate general of the Wyoming National
Guard.
Colonel Cody (Buffalo Bill) died in Denver, Colorado, on January 10,
1917. His legacy to a grateful world was a large share in the
development of the West, and a multitude of achievements in
horsemanship, marksmanship, and endurance that will live for ages. His
life will continue to be a leading example of the manliness, courage,
and devotion to duty that belonged to a picturesque phase of American
life now passed, like the great patriot whose career it typified, into
the Great Beyond.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
I. THE HERMIT OF THE GRAND CANYON 5
II. THE MINER'S SECRET 14
III. THE GRAVE AT THE DESERTED CAMP 20
IV. A VOW OF VENGEANCE 28
V. MASKED AND MERCILESS 33
VI. THE DUMB MESSENGER 41
VII. DEATH AND MADNESS 50
VIII. A STRANGE BURIAL 62
IX. THE COURIER 67
X. DOCTOR DICK'S DRIVE 76
XI. RUNNING THE GANTLET 84
XII. A MAN'S NERVE 92
XIII. A VOLUNTEER 97
XIV. THE WAY IT WAS DONE 105
XV. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 114
XVI. TAKING CHANCES 122
XVII. A SECRET KEPT 130
XVIII. A MYSTERIOUS SOUND 138
XIX. A FAIR PASSENGER 143
XX. MASKED FOES 151
XXI. THE SACRIFICE 159
XXII. THE RANSOM 168
XXIII. THE OUTLAWS' CAPTIVE 181
XXIV. THE TWO FUGITIVES 186
XXV. THE OUTLAW LOVER 195
XXVI. THE SECRET OUT 200
XXVII. THE DEPARTURE 210
XXVIII. THE LONE TRAIL 219
XXIX. TO WELCOME THE FAIR GUEST 223
XXX. AT THE RENDEZVOUS 231
XXXI. DOCTOR DICK TELLS THE NEWS 239
XXXII. THE MINERS' WELCOME 248
XXXIII. THE COUNCIL 252
XXXIV. A METAMORPHOSIS 259
XXXV. THE DRIVER'S LETTER 268
XXXVI. THE SCOUT ON THE WATCH 272
XXXVII. THE MINER'S MISSION 280
XXXVIII. A LEAF FROM THE PAST 288
XXXIX. THE OUTLAW'S CONFESSION 298
XL. TEARING OFF THE MASK 303
BUFFALO BILL'S SPY TRAILER.
CHAPTER I.
THE HERMIT OF THE GRAND CANYON.
A horseman drew rein one morning, upon the brink of the Grand Canyon of
the Colorado, a mighty abyss, too vast for the eye to take in its grand
immensity; a mighty mountain rent asunder and forming a chasm which is a
valley of grandeur and beauty, through which flows the Colorado Grande.
Ranges of mountains tower to cloudland on all sides with cliffs of
scarlet, blue, violet, yes, all hues of the rainbow; crystal streams
flowing merrily along; verdant meadows, vales and hills, with massive
forests everywhere--such was the sight that met the admiring gaze of the
horseman as he sat there in his saddle, his horse looking down into the
canyon.
It was a spot avoided by Indians as the abiding-place of evil spirits; a
scene shunned by white men, a mighty retreat where a fugitive, it would
seem, would be forever safe, no matter what the crime that had driven
him to seek a refuge there.
Adown from where the horseman had halted, was the bare trace of a trail,
winding around the edge of an overhanging rock by a shelf that was not a
yard in width and which only a man could tread whose head was cool and
heart fearless.
Wrapt in admiration of the scene, the mist-clouds floating lazily upward
from the canyon, the silver ribbon far away that revealed the winding
river, and the songs of birds coming from a hundred leafy retreats on
the hillsides, the horseman gave a deep sigh, as though memories most
sad were awakened in his breast by the scene, and then dismounting began
to unwrap a lariat from his saddle-horn.
He was dressed as a miner, wore a slouch-hat, was of commanding
presence, and his darkly bronzed face, heavily bearded, was full of
determination, intelligence, and expression.
Two led horses, carrying heavy packs, were behind the animal he rode,
and attaching the lariats to their bits he took one end and led the way
down the most perilous and picturesque trail along the shelf running
around the jutting point of rocks.
When he drew near the narrowest point, he took off the saddle and packs,
and one at a time led the horses downward and around the hazardous
rocks.
A false step, a movement of fright in one of the animals, would send him
downward to the depths more than a mile below.
But the trembling animals seemed to have perfect confidence in their
master, and after a long while he got them by the point of greatest
peril.
Going back and forward he carried the packs and saddles, and replacing
them upon the animals began once more the descent of the only trail
leading down into the Grand Canyon, from that side.
The way was rugged, most dangerous in places, and several times his
horses barely escaped a fall over the precipice, the coolness and strong
arm of the man alone saving them from death, and his stores from
destruction.
It was nearly sunset when he at last reached the bottom of the
stupendous rift, and only the tops of the cliffs were tinged with the
golden light, the valley being in densest shadow.
Going on along the canyon at a brisk pace, as though anxious to reach
some camping-place before nightfall, after a ride of several miles he
came in sight of a wooded canyon, entering the one he was then in, and
with heights towering toward heaven so far that all below seemed as
black as night.
But a stream wound out of the canyon, to mingle its clear waters with the
grand Colorado River a mile away, and massive trees grew near at hand,
sheltering a cabin that stood upon the sloping hill at the base of a
cliff that arose thousands of feet above it.
When within a few hundred yards of the lone cabin, suddenly there was a
crashing, grinding sound, a terrific roar, a rumbling, and the earth
seemed shaken violently as the whole face of the mighty cliff came
crushing down into the valley, sending up showers of splintered rocks
and clouds of dust that were blinding and appalling!
Back from the scene of danger fled the frightened horses, the rider
showing no desire to check their flight until a spot of safety was
reached.
Then, half a mile from the fallen cliff, he paused, his face white, his
whole form quivering, while his horses stood trembling with terror.
"My God! the cliff has fallen upon my home, and my unfortunate comrade
lies buried beneath a mountain of rocks. We mined too far beneath the
cliff, thus causing a cave-in.
"A few minutes more and I would also have shared poor Langley's fate;
but a strange destiny it is that protects me from death--a strange one
indeed! He is gone, and I alone am now the Hermit of the Grand Canyon, a
Croesus in wealth of gold, yet a fugitive from my fellow men. What a
fate is mine, and how will it all end, I wonder?"
Thus musing the hermit-miner sat upon his own horse listening to the
echoes rumbling through the Grand Canyon, growing fainter and fainter,
like a retreating army fighting off its pursuing foes.
An hour passed before the unnerved man felt able to seek a camp for the
night, so great had been the shock of the falling cliff, and the fate he
had felt had overtaken his comrade.
At last he rode on up the canyon once more, determined to seek a spot he
knew well where he could camp, a couple of miles above his destroyed
home.
He passed the pile of rocks, heaped far up the cliff from which they had
fallen, looking upon them as the sepulcher of his companion.
"Poor Lucas Langley! He, too, had his sorrows, and his secrets, which
drove him, like me, to seek a retreat far from mankind, and become a
hunted man. Alas! what has the future in store for me?"
With a sigh he rode on up the valley, his way now guided by the
moonlight alone, and at last turned into another canyon, for the Grand
Canyon has hundreds of others branching off from it, some of them
penetrating for miles back into the mountains.
He had gone up this canyon for a few hundred yards, and was just about to
halt, and go into camp upon the banks of a small stream, when his eyes
caught sight of a light ahead.
"Ah! what does that mean?" he ejaculated in surprise.
Hardly had he spoken when from up the canyon came the deep voice of a dog
barking, his scent telling him of a human presence near.
"Ah! Savage is not dead then, and, after all, Lucas Langley may have
escaped."
The horseman rode quickly on toward the light. The barking of the dog
continued, but it was not a note of warning but of welcome, and as the
horseman drew rein by a camp-fire a huge brute sprang up and greeted him
with every manifestation of delight, while a man came forward from the
shadows of the trees and cried:
"Thank Heaven you are back again, Pard Seldon, for I had begun to fear
for your safety."
"And I was sure that I would never meet you again in life, Lucas, for I
believed you at the bottom of that mountain of rocks that fell from the
cliff and crushed out our little home," and the hands of the two men met
in a warm grasp.
"It would have been so but for a warning I had, when working in the
mine. I saw that the cliff was splitting and settling, and running out I
discovered that it must fall, and before very long.
"I at once got the two mules out of the canyon above, packed all our
traps upon them, and hastened away to a spot of safety. Then I returned
and got all else I could find, gathered up our gold, and came here and
made our camp.
"To-night the cliff fell, but not expecting you to arrive by night, I
was to be on the watch for you in the morning; but thank Heaven you are
safe and home again."
"And I am happy to find you safe, Lucas. I was within an eighth of a
mile of the cliff when it fell, and I shall never forget the sight, the
sound, the appalling dread for a few moments, as I fled to a spot of
safety, my horses bearing me along like the wind in their mad terror."
"It was appalling, and I have not dared leave my camp since, far as I am
from it, for it resounded through the canyons like a mighty battle with
heavy guns. But come, comrade, and we will have supper and talk over all
that has happened."
The horses were staked out up the canyon, where grass and water were
plentiful, and then the two men sat down to supper, though neither
seemed to have much of an appetite after what had occurred.
But Savage, the huge, vicious-looking dog, felt no bad results from his
fright of a few hours before, and ate heartily.
When their pipes were lighted the man who had lately arrived said:
"Well, Lucas, I brought back provisions and other things to last us a
year, and I care not to go again from this canyon until I carry a fortune
in gold with me."
"Yes, here we are safe, and I feel that something has happened to cause
you to say what you do, pard."
"And I will tell you what it is," impressively returned the one who had
spoken of himself as the Hermit of the Grand Canyon.
"Yes," he added slowly. "I will tell you a secret, comrade."
CHAPTER II.
THE MINER'S SECRET.
"Pard, after what has happened, the falling of the cliff, and our narrow
escape from death, I feel little like sleep, tired as I am, so, as I
said, I will tell you a secret," continued Andrew Seldon, speaking in a
way that showed his thoughts were roaming in the past.
"You will have a good listener, pard," was the answer.
"Yes, I feel that I will, and you having told me that you were a
fugitive from the law, that your life had its curse upon it, I will tell
you of mine, at least enough of it to prove to you that I also dare not
show my face among my fellow men.
"You know me as Andrew Seldon, and I have with me proof that I could
show to convince one that such is my name; but, in reality, Andrew
Seldon is dead, and I am simply playing his part in life, for I am not
unlike him in appearance, and, as I said, I have the proofs that enable
me to impersonate him.
"My real name is Wallace Weston, whom circumstances beyond my control
made a murderer and fugitive, and here I am. I entered the army as a
private cavalry soldier, and worked my way up to sergeant, with the hope
of getting a commission some day.
"But one day another regiment came to the frontier post where I was
stationed, and a member of it was the man to whom I owed all my sorrow
and misfortune in life. Well, the recognition was mutual, a quarrel
followed, and he--his name was Manton Mayhew--fell by my hand, and he,
too, was a sergeant.
"I said nothing in my defense, for I would not reopen the story
| 727.71415 | 3,516 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.5485860
| 1,021 | 412 |
Produced by Charlie Howard and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration:
_Sir W. Beechy._ _I. J. Hinchliff._
_James Watt._]
A
HISTORY
OF
INVENTIONS, DISCOVERIES,
AND ORIGINS.
BY JOHN BECKMANN,
PROFESSOR OF ŒCONOMY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GÖTTINGEN.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN,
BY WILLIAM JOHNSTON.
Fourth Edition,
CAREFULLY REVISED AND ENLARGED BY
WILLIAM FRANCIS, Ph.D., F.L.S.,
EDITOR OF THE CHEMICAL GAZETTE;
AND
J. W. GRIFFITH, M.D., F.L.S.,
LICENTIATE OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
1846.
PRINTED BY RICHARD AND JOHN E. TAYLOR,
RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.
CONTENTS.
Page
The Steam-Engine, and Discoveries of James Watt v
Lending and Pawnbroking 1
Chemical Names of Metals 23
Zinc 32
Carp 46
Camp-mills 55
Mirrors 56
Glass-cutting. Etching on Glass 84
Soap 92
Madder 108
Jugglers, Rope-dancers, Automata, etc. 115
Artificial Ice. Cooling Liquors 142
Hydrometer 161
Lighting of Streets 172
Night-watch 185
Plant-skeletons 195
Bills of Exchange 203
Tin. Tinning 206
Sowing-machines 230
Manganese 235
Prince Rupert’s Drops. Lacrymæ Vitreæ 241
Fire-engines 245
Indigo 258
Vanes. Weathercocks 281
Gilding 290
Fur Dresses 296
Steel 324
Stamping-works 333
Kitchen Vegetables 336
Knitting Nets and Stockings. Stocking-Loom 355
Hops 376
Black Lead 388
Sal-Ammoniac 396
Forks 407
Lottery. Tontine 414
Bologna Stone 429
Foundling Hospitals 434
Orphan Houses 449
Infirmaries. Hospitals for Invalids. Field Lazarettos 454
Cock-fighting 473
Saltpetre. Gunpowder. Aquafortis 482
Book-censors 512
Exclusive Privilege for Printing Books 518
Catalogues of Books 522
Ribbon-Loom 527
Guns. Gun-Locks 533
THE STEAM-ENGINE,
AND THE DISCOVERIES OF JAMES WATT.
Although the plan of this new edition of Beckmann’s ‘History of
Inventions and Discoveries’ was to confine it to the subjects treated
of in the original work, yet we feel it imperative to make an exception
in favour of the _Steam-Engine_, the most important of all modern
inventions.
The power of steam was not entirely unknown to the ancients, but
before the æra rendered memorable by the discoveries of JAMES WATT,
the steam-engine, which has since become the object of such universal
interest, was a machine of extremely limited power, inferior in
importance and usefulness to most other mechanical agents used as
prime movers. Hero of Alexandria, who lived about 120 years before the
birth of Christ, has left us the description of a machine, in which a
continued rotatory motion was imparted to an axis by a blast of steam
issuing from lateral orifices in arms placed at right angles to it.
About the beginning of the seventeenth century, a French engineer, De
Caus, invented a machine by which a column of water might be raised
by the pressure of steam confined in the vessel, above the water to
be elevated; and in 1629, Branca, an Italian philosopher, contrived a
plan of working several mills by a blast of steam against the vanes;
from the descriptions, however
| 727.867996 | 3,517 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.5921860
| 1,103 | 405 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE STRAND MAGAZINE
_An Illustrated Monthly_
EDITED BY GEORGE NEWNES
Vol VII., Issue 39.
March, 1894
[Illustration: MR. THOMAS SIDNEY COOPER, R.A.
_From a Photo. by Elliot & Fry._]
_Illustrated Interviews._
XXXI.--MR. T. SIDNEY COOPER, R.A.
[Illustration]
The first sight I obtained of Mr. Cooper was of considerable
interest. He lives in a beautiful spot, about a mile and a half from
Canterbury--at Vernon Holme, Harbledown; and as I entered the gate
I caught sight of Mr. Cooper before his easel in his studio, taking
advantage of the light of a glorious winter's day, and working away at
a canvas which I subsequently learnt was intended, with another, to
form his contribution to this year's exhibition at the Royal Academy.
I stood for a moment quietly and respectfully looking on before
ringing the bell at the front door. The canvas presented a landscape,
and the cattle were just outlined in with pencil. The painter was
working without the aid of glasses, and this for a man who is in his
ninety-first year may certainly be said to be highly respectable.
Somewhat below the medium height, with marvellously penetrating eyes,
scarcely the sign of the stoop of old age, a hand as steady as in '35,
when he was just beginning to make a name, and silvery white hair about
his head--it was an impressive picture. T. Sidney Cooper's brilliant
work of the past and to-day calls for all recognition of his gifts, but
it is only when one catches sight of him as I did--snow, nothing but
snow, everywhere outside, and the painter, now in the winter of life,
clinging with all the old love to his sheep and cattle--it is only then
that one realizes the great respect due to the Grand Old Academician.
[Illustration: VERNON HOLME--FROM THE POND. _From a Photo. by Elliott &
Fry._]
So I shook my snow-covered boots outside and entered the hall of Vernon
Holme. The artist left his easel. It was a hearty welcome to Vernon
Holme. There was no mistaking the man. He was living there a quiet,
happy, contented, and work-a-day life; rising at half-past seven every
morning in the winter, and in the summer months at seven o'clock.
Before breakfast the palettes are set and the paints made ready. He
will work steadily up to dusk. His recreation is his Bible, and twice
a day, after lunch and dinner, a chapter is read aloud. His voice is
clear, and he reads every word, and suggests its meaning. I heard
Sidney Cooper read. His birthdays are _thinking_ days--_thankful_ days
too, it would seem. The lines he wrote on September 26th, 1889, reveal
much. He calls them "Musings on My Eighty-sixth Birthday," and they
run:--
Another birthday dawns--the eighty-sixth,
How little take we note of fleeting time!
Since last this day of joyful glee was here
What blessings have been mine; alas! how oft
Have unrequited been! The cares of life
Engross my thoughts when holy things my heart
Should fill. Thou who hast made my way of life
So full of mercies, be Thou still my help.
When o'er this day of life the night shall fall,
And called my feet to pass thro' ways unknown,
Be near me still; be Thou my strength; and when
The walls decay leave not the tenant lone,
But by Thy Spirit comfort and uphold;
I have but Thee, I have no claim of Gate
Of Pearl, or Street of Glittering Gold, but thro'
Thy boundless grace, my good and bad are both
Forgiven. In humble fitting place among
The many mansions, where there is no sin,
And by Thy Crystal River flowing on
Through Heaven's green expanse, I'll learn the new
And holy song of Worthy is the Lamb,
And 'neath the Healing Tree shall find that life
Wished for so long!!!
Then he loves to take you about his house, for it is a very beautiful
home, and the man who owns it enjoys its comforts the more, for he will
honestly tell you that it meant working for.
"I don't do anything without authority," he told me; "I have authority
for everything I paint. If I want a sky for any particular picture, I
do it from my house. I have windows from all four sides, so that I can
see always. Then in the summer I can sit on the lawn and paint. There
are some of my sheep--my'models'!"
We were standing in the recess of the dining
| 727.911596 | 3,518 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.6735710
| 405 | 93 |
Produced by Chuck Greif 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.)
THE
MIDDLE YEARS
BY
HENRY JAMES
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published November, 1917
[Illustration: From a copyrighted photograph by Elliott and Fry
Henry James]
BY HENRY JAMES
A SMALL BOY AND OTHERS
NOTES OF A SON AND BROTHER
THE MIDDLE YEARS
NOTES ON NOVELISTS
WITH SOME OTHER NOTES
EDITOR'S NOTE
_The following pages represent all that Henry James lived to write of a
volume of autobiographical reminiscences to which he had given the name
of one of his own short stories_, The Middle Years. _It was designed to
follow on_ Notes of a Son and Brother _and to extend to about the same
length. The chapters here printed were dictated during the autumn of
1914. They were laid aside for other work toward the end of the year and
were not revised by the author. A few quite evident slips have been
corrected and the marking of the paragraphs--which he usually deferred
till the final revision--has been completed._
_In dictating_ The Middle Years _he used no notes, and beyond an
allusion or two in the unfinished volume itself there is no indication
of the course which the book would have taken or the precise period it
was intended to cover_.
_PERCY LUBBOCK._
I
If the author of this meandering record has noted elsewhere[1] that an
event occurring early in 1870 was to mark the end of his youth, he is
moved here at once to qualify in one or two respects that emphasis.
Everything depends in such a view on what one means by one's youth--so
| 727.992981 | 3,519 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.7483150
| 203 | 152 |
The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Woodland Queen, by Andre Theuriet, v2
#23 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy
#2 in our series by Andre Theuriet
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers.
Please do not remove this.
This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book.
Do not change or edit it without written permission. The words
are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they
need about what they can legally do with the texts.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These Etexts Are Prepared By
| 728.067725 | 3,520 |
2023-11-16 18:27:54.8206230
| 1,148 | 421 |
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: THE TAR WAS READY FOR USE.]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE YOUNG OARSMEN OF LAKEVIEW
By
CAPT. RALPH BONEHILL.
Author of
"Rival Bicyclists," "Leo, the Circus Boy," Etc.
CHICAGO.
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
407-429 DEARBORN ST.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Jerry, Harry, and Blumpo. 5
II. Mrs. Fleming's Runaway Horse. 12
III. Jerry's Bravery. 18
IV. Saving The Sloop. 24
V. Harry Is Rescued. 30
VI. The Single Shell Race. 37
VII. Who Won the Shell Race. 42
VIII. A Prisoner of the Enemy. 47
IX. Tar And Feathers. 54
X. What Towser Did. 60
XI. Off for Hermit Island. 66
XII. An Attack in the Dark. 72
XIII. Jerry's Shot. 77
XIV. The Hermit of the Island. 82
XV. The Hermit's Secret. 88
XVI. An Exciting Chase. 93
XVII. Harry's New Yacht. 98
XVIII. The Robbery of the Rockpoint Hotel. 107
XIX. The Red Valise. 112
XX. The Mishap to the Yacht. 117
XXI. Words and Blows. 124
XXII. Another Boat Race. 131
XXIII. Jerry Starts on a Journey. 139
XXIV. The Work of a Real Hero. 145
XXV. A Fruitless Search. 152
XXVI. Alexander Slocum is Astonished. 159
XXVII. Jerry's Clever Escape. 164
XXVIII. Something About a Tramp. 170
XXIX. Mr. Wakefield Smith Again. 177
XXX. An Unlooked for Adventure. 181
XXXI. Nellie Ardell's Troubles. 186
XXXII. A Crazy Man's Doings. 192
XXXIII. The Little Nobody. 199
XXXIV. Alexander Slocum Shows His Hand. 207
XXXV. A Strange Disappearance 214
XXXVI. Jerry Hears an Astonishing Statement. 221
XXXVII. A Joyous Meeting. 228
XXXVIII. Alexander Slocum is Brought to Book. 236
XXXIX. Harry to the Rescue. 243
XL. A Struggle in the Dark. 251
XLI. A Last Race--Good-Bye to the Rival Oarsmen. 261
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE YOUNG OARSMEN OF LAKEVIEW.
CHAPTER I.
JERRY, HARRY, AND BLUMPO.
"I'll race you."
"Done! Are you ready?"
"I am."
"Then off we go."
Quicker than it can be related, four oars fell into the water and four
sturdy arms bent to the task of sending two beautiful single-shell craft
skimming over the smooth surface of the lake.
It was a spirited scene, and attracted not a little attention, for both of
the contestants were well known.
"Go it, Jerry! You can beat him if you try!"
"Don't let him get ahead, Harry. Keep closer to the shore!"
"How far is the race to be?"
"Up to the big pine tree and back."
"That's a full mile and more. I'll bet on Jerry Upton."
"And I'll bet on Harry Parker. He has more skill than Jerry."
"But Jerry has the muscle."
"There they go, side by side!"
And thus the talking and shouting went on along the lake front. Most of
the boys present were members of the Lakeview Boat Club, but there were
others of the town there, too, as enthusiastic as the rest.
It was a clear, warm day in June. The summer holidays at the various
institutes of learning in the vicinity had just begun, so many of the lads
had nothing to do but to enjoy themselves.
There were not a few craft out besides the two shells to which we have
drawn attention. But they drew out of the way to give the racers a free
field.
On and on went Jerry and Harry until the big pine was reached. Then came
the turn, and they started on the home stretch side by side, neither one
foot ahead of the other.
"It's going to be a tie race."
"Pull, Harry! Let yourself out!"
"Show him what you can do, Jerry!"
Encouraged by the shouts of their friends, both
| 728.140033 | 3,521 |
2023-11-16 18:27:55.0428620
| 181 | 165 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "I'm comin' home from a feeneral," Honeybird called out
cheerfully.]
THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN
BY
KATHLEEN FITZPATRICK
WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. GUY SMITH
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
_First Published in 1905_
_Second Edition 1905_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. WHY MRS M'REA RETURNED TO THE FAITH OF HER FATHERS
II. UNDER THE SHADOW OF THE MOUNTAINS
III. JANE'S CONVERSION
IV. A DAY OF GROWTH
V. THE CHILD SAMUEL
VI. THE BEST FINDER
| 728.362272 | 3,522 |
2023-11-16 18:27:55.1011370
| 1,069 | 426 |
Produced by David Widger
ESSAYS OF MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE
Translated by Charles Cotton
Edited by William Carew Hazilitt
1877
CONTENTS OF VOLUME 8.
XLVIII. Of war-horses, or destriers.
XLIX. Of ancient customs.
L. Of Democritus and Heraclitus.
LI. Of the vanity of words.
LII. Of the parsimony of the Ancients.
LIII. Of a saying of Caesar.
LIV. Of vain subtleties.
LV. Of smells.
LVI. Of prayers.
LVII. Of age.
CHAPTER XLVIII
OF WAR HORSES, OR DESTRIERS
I here have become a grammarian, I who never learned any language but by
rote, and who do not yet know adjective, conjunction, or ablative. I
think I have read that the Romans had a sort of horses by them called
'funales' or 'dextrarios', which were either led horses, or horses laid
on at several stages to be taken fresh upon occasion, and thence it is
that we call our horses of service 'destriers'; and our romances commonly
use the phrase of 'adestrer' for 'accompagner', to accompany. They also
called those that were trained in such sort, that running full speed,
side by side, without bridle or saddle, the Roman gentlemen, armed at all
pieces, would shift and throw themselves from one to the other,
'desultorios equos'. The Numidian men-at-arms had always a led horse in
one hand, besides that they rode upon, to change in the heat of battle:
"Quibus, desultorum in modum, binos trahentibus equos, inter
acerrimam saepe pugnam, in recentem equum, ex fesso, armatis
transultare mos erat: tanta velocitas ipsis, tamque docile
equorum genus."
["To whom it was a custom, leading along two horses, often in the
hottest fight, to leap armed from a tired horse to a fresh one; so
active were the men, and the horses so docile."--Livy, xxiii. 29.]
There are many horses trained to help their riders so as to run upon any
one, that appears with a drawn sword, to fall both with mouth and heels
upon any that front or oppose them: but it often happens that they do
more harm to their friends than to their enemies; and, moreover, you
cannot loose them from their hold, to reduce them again into order, when
they are once engaged and grappled, by which means you remain at the
mercy of their quarrel. It happened very ill to Artybius, general of the
Persian army, fighting, man to man, with Onesilus, king of Salamis, to be
mounted upon a horse trained after this manner, it being the occasion of
his death, the squire of Onesilus cleaving the horse down with a scythe
betwixt the shoulders as it was reared up upon his master. And what the
Italians report, that in the battle of Fornova, the horse of Charles
VIII., with kicks and plunges, disengaged his master from the enemy that
pressed upon him, without which he had been slain, sounds like a very
great chance, if it be true.
[In the narrative which Philip de Commines has given of this battle,
in which he himself was present (lib. viii. ch. 6), he tells us
of wonderful performances by the horse on which the king was
mounted. The name of the horse was Savoy, and it was the most
beautiful horse he had ever seen. During the battle the king was
personally attacked, when he had nobody near him but a valet de
chambre, a little fellow, and not well armed. "The king," says
Commines, "had the best horse under him in the world, and therefore
he stood his ground bravely, till a number of his men, not a great
way from him, arrived at the critical minute."]
The Mamalukes make their boast that they have the most ready horses of
any cavalry in the world; that by nature and custom they were taught to
know and distinguish the enemy, and to fall foul upon them with mouth and
heels, according to a word or sign given; as also to gather up with their
teeth darts and lances scattered upon the field, and present them to
their riders, on the word of command. 'T is said, both of Caesar and
Pompey, that amongst their other excellent qualities they were both very
good horsemen, and particularly of Caesar, that in his
| 728.420547 | 3,523 |
2023-11-16 18:27:55.3859740
| 1,137 | 396 |
Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive
ERCHIE
My Droll Friend
By Hugh Foulis
(Neil Munro)
(The Looker-On)
William Blackwood and Sons Edinburgh and London
MCMIV
[Illustration: 0008]
[Illustration: 0009]
PREFACE.
The majority of the following chapters are selections from “Erchie”
articles contributed to the pages of the ‘Glasgow Evening News’ during
the past three years. A number of the sketches are now published for the
first time.
ERCHIE
I INTRODUCTORY TO AN ODD CHARACTER
|On Sundays he is the beadle of our church; at other times he Waits.
In his ecclesiastical character there is a solemn dignity about his
deportment that compels most of us to call him Mr MacPherson; in his
secular hours, when passing the fruit at a city banquet, or when at the
close of the repast he sweeps away the fragments of the dinner-rolls,
and whisperingly expresses in your left ear a fervent hope that “ye’ve
enjoyed your dinner,” he is simply Erchie.
Once I forgot, deluded a moment into a Sunday train of thought by his
reverent way of laying down a bottle of Pommery, and called him Mr
MacPherson. He reproved me with a glance of his eye.
“There’s nae Mr MacPhersons here,” said he afterwards; “at whit ye might
call the social board I’m jist Erchie, or whiles Easy-gaun Erchie wi’
them that kens me langest. There’s sae mony folks in this world don’t
like to hurt your feelings that if I was kent as Mr MacPherson on this
kind o’ job I wadna mak’ enough to pay for starchin’ my shirts.”
I suppose Mr MacPherson has been snibbing-in preachers in St Kentigern’s
Kirk pulpit and then going for twenty minutes’ sleep in the vestry since
the Disruption; and the more privileged citizens of Glasgow during
two or three generations of public dinners have experienced the kindly
ministrations of Erchie, whose proud motto is “A flet fit but a warm
hert.” I think, however, I was the first to discover his long pent-up
and precious strain of philosophy.
On Saturday nights, in his office as beadle of St Kentigern’s, he lights
the furnaces that take the chill off the Sunday devotions. I found him
stoking the kirk fires one Saturday, not very much like a beadle in
appearance, and much less like a waiter. It was what, in England, they
call the festive season.
“There’s mair nor guid preachin’ wanted to keep a kirk gaun,” said he;
“if I was puttin’ as muckle dross on my fires as the Doctor whiles
puts in his sermons, efter a Setturday at the gowf, ye wad see a bonny
difference on the plate. But it’s nae odds-a beadle gets sma’ credit,
though it’s him that keeps the kirk tosh and warm, and jist at that
nice easy-osy temperature whaur even a gey cauldrife member o’ the
congregation can tak’ his nap and no’ let his lozenge slip doon his
throat for chitterin wi’ the cauld.”
There was a remarkably small congregation at St Kentigern’s on the
following day, and when the worthy beadle had locked the door after
dismissal and joined me on the pavement, “Man,” he said, “it was a puir
turn-oot yon--hardly worth puttin’ on fires for. It’s aye the wye; when
I mak’ the kirk a wee bit fancy, and jalouse there’s shair to be twa
pound ten in the plate, on comes a blash o’ rain, and there’s hardly
whit wid pay for the starchin’ o’ the Doctor’s bands.
“Christmas! They ca’t Christmas, but I could gie anither name for’t. I
looked it up in the penny almanac, and it said, ‘Keen frost; probably
snow,’ and I declare-to if I hadna nearly to soom frae the hoose.
“The almanacs is no’ whit they used to be; the auld chaps that used to
mak’ them maun be deid.
“They used to could do’t wi’ the least wee bit touch, and tell ye in
January whit kind o’ day it wad be at Halloween, besides lettin’ ye ken
the places whaur the Fair days and the ‘ool-markets was, and when they
were to tak’ place-a’ kind o’ information that maist o’ us that bocht
the almanacs couldna sleep at nicht wantin’. I’ve seen me get up at
three on a cauld winter’s mornin’ and strikin’ a licht to turn up Orr’s
Penny Commercial and see whit day was the Fair at Dunse. I never was
at Dunse in a’ my days,
| 728.705384 | 3,524 |
2023-11-16 18:27:55.4027580
| 1,763 | 45 |
Produced by Douglas L. Alley, III, Colin Bell and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive)
THE EXPOSITOR'S BIBLE.
_Crown 8vo, cloth, price 7s. 6d. each vol._
FIRST SERIES, 1887-8.
Colossians.
By A. MACLAREN, D.D.
St. Mark.
By Very Rev. the Dean of Armagh.
Genesis.
By Prof. MARCUS DODS, D.D.
1 Samuel.
By Prof. W. G. BLAIKIE, D.D.
2 Samuel.
By the same Author.
Hebrews.
By Principal T. C. EDWARDS, D.D.
SECOND SERIES, 1888-9.
Galatians.
By Prof. G. G. FINDLAY, B.A.
The Pastoral Epistles.
By Rev. A. PLUMMER, D.D.
Isaiah I.-XXXIX.
By Prof. G. A. SMITH, D.D. Vol. I.
The Book of Revelation.
By Prof. W. MILLIGAN, D.D.
1 Corinthians.
By Prof. MARCUS DODS, D.D.
The Epistles of St. John.
By Rt. Rev. W. ALEXANDER, D.D.
THIRD SERIES, 1889-90.
Judges and Ruth.
By R. A. WATSON, M.A., D.D.
Jeremiah.
By Rev. C. J. BALL, M.A.
Isaiah XL.-LXVI.
By Prof. G. A. SMITH, D.D. Vol. II.
St. Matthew.
By Rev. J. MONRO GIBSON, D.D.
Exodus.
By Very Rev. the Dean of Armagh.
St. Luke.
By Rev. H. BURTON, M.A.
FOURTH SERIES, 1890-1.
Ecclesiastes.
By Rev. SAMUEL COX, D.D.
St. James and St. Jude.
By Rev. A. PLUMMER, D.D.
Proverbs.
By Rev. R. F. HORTON, D.D.
Leviticus.
By Rev. S. H. KELLOGG, D.D.
The Gospel of St. John.
By Prof. M. DODS, D.D. Vol. I.
The Acts of the Apostles.
By Prof. STOKES, D.D. Vol. I.
FIFTH SERIES, 1891-2.
The Psalms.
By A. MACLAREN, D.D. Vol. I.
1 and 2 Thessalonians.
By JAMES DENNEY, D.D.
The Book of Job.
By R. A. WATSON, M.A., D.D.
Ephesians.
By Prof. G. G. FINDLAY, B.A.
The Gospel of St. John,
By Prof. M. DODS, D.D. Vol. II.
The Acts of the Apostles.
By Prof. STOKES, D.D. Vol. II.
SIXTH SERIES, 1892-3.
1 Kings.
By Ven. Archdeacon FARRAR.
Philippians.
By Principal RAINY, D.D.
Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther.
By Prof. W. F. ADENEY, M.A.
Joshua.
By Prof. W. G. BLAIKIE, D.D.
The Psalms.
By A. MACLAREN, D.D. Vol. II.
The Epistles of St. Peter.
By Prof. RAWSON LUMBY, D.D.
SEVENTH SERIES, 1893-4.
2 Kings.
By Ven. Archdeacon FARRAR.
Romans.
By H. C. G. MOULE, M.A.
The Books of Chronicles.
By Prof. W. H. BENNETT, M.A.
2 Corinthians.
By JAMES DENNEY, D.D.
Numbers.
By R. A. WATSON, M.A., D.D.
The Psalms.
By A. MACLAREN, D.D. Vol. III.
EIGHTH SERIES, 1895-6.
Daniel.
By Ven. Archdeacon FARRAR.
The Book of Jeremiah.
By Prof. W. H. BENNETT, M.A.
Deuteronomy.
By Prof. ANDREW HARPER, B.D.
The Song of Solomon and Lamentations.
By Prof. W. F. ADENEY, M.A.
Ezekiel.
By Prof. JOHN SKINNER, M.A.
The Minor Prophets.
By Prof. G. A. SMITH, D.D. Two Vols.
THE BOOK OF DANIEL
BY
F. W. FARRAR, D.D., F.R.S.
LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE; ARCHDEACON OF
WESTMINSTER
=London=
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
27, PATERNOSTER ROW
MDCCCXCV
_Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._
CONTENTS
PART I
_INTRODUCTION_
CHAPTER I
PAGE
THE HISTORIC EXISTENCE OF THE PROPHET DANIEL 3
CHAPTER II
GENERAL SURVEY OF THE BOOK 13
1. THE LANGUAGE 13
2. UNITY 24
3. GENERAL TONE 27
4. STYLE 29
5. STANDPOINT OF ITS AUTHOR 31
6. MORAL ELEMENT 34
CHAPTER III
PECULIARITIES OF THE HISTORICAL SECTION 39
CHAPTER IV
GENERAL STRUCTURE OF THE BOOK 63
CHAPTER V
THE THEOLOGY OF THE BOOK 67
CHAPTER VI
PECULIARITIES OF THE APOCALYPTIC AND PROPHETIC
SECTION OF THE BOOK 71
CHAPTER VII
INTERNAL EVIDENCE 78
CHAPTER VIII
EVIDENCE IN FAVOUR OF THE GENUINENESS UNCERTAIN
AND INADEQUATE 88
CHAPTER IX
EXTERNAL EVIDENCE AND RECEPTION INTO THE
CANON 98
CHAPTER X
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION 113
PART II
_COMMENTARY ON THE HISTORIC SECTION_
CHAPTER I
THE PRELUDE 123
CHAPTER II
THE DREAM-IMAGE OF RUINED EMPIRES 141
CHAPTER III
THE IDOL OF GOLD, AND THE FAITHFUL THREE 167
CHAPTER IV
THE BABYLONIAN CEDAR, AND THE STRICKEN DESPOT 184
CHAPTER V
THE FIERY INSCRIPTION 203
CHAPTER VI
STOPPING THE MOUTHS OF LIONS 218
PART III
_THE PROPHETIC SECTION OF THE BOOK_
CHAPTER I
VISION OF THE FOUR WILD BEASTS 233
CHAPTER II
THE RAM AND THE HE-GOAT 252
CHAPTER III
THE SEVENTY WEEKS 268
CHAPTER IV
INTRODUCTION TO THE CONCLUDING VISION 292
CHAPTER V
AN ENIGMATIC PROPHECY PASSING INTO DETAILS OF
THE REIGN OF ANTIOCHUS EPIPHANES 299
CHAPTER VI
THE EPILOGUE
| 728.722168 | 3,525 |
2023-11-16 18:27:55.6048300
| 4,116 | 132 |
Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org
(Images generously made available by the Hathi Trust.)
EMINENT AUTHORS
OF THE
NINETEENTH CENTURY.
_LITERARY PORTRAITS_
BY
Dr. GEORG BRANDES
_TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL BY_
RASMUS B. ANDERSON,
UNITED STATES MINISTER TO DENMARK; AUTHOR OF "NORSE MYTHOLOGY,"
"VIKING TALES OF THE NORTH," "AMERICA NOT DISCOVERED
BY COLUMBUS," AND OTHER WORKS.
NEW YORK:
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
1886
[Illustration: Georg Brandes]
NOTE.
This volume is published by special arrangement with the author. At my
request Dr. Georg Brandes has designated me as his American translator
and takes a personal interest in the enterprise.
To Auber Forestier, who kindly aided me in translating the stories of
Björnstjerne Björnson, I have to express my cordial thanks for valuable
assistance in the preparation of this translation.
RASMUS B. ANDERSON.
COPENHAGEN, DENMARK,
July, 1886.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
It is a well-known fact that at the beginning of this century several
prominent Danes endeavored to acquire citizenship in German literature.
Since then the effort has not been repeated by any Danish author. To
say nothing of the political variance between Germany and Denmark,
these examples are far from alluring on the one hand, and on the
other hand they furnish no criterion of the Danish mind. The great
remodeler of the Danish language, Oehlenschläger, placed his works
before the German public in German so wholly lacking in all charm,
that he only gained the rank of a third-class poet in Germany. The
success, however, which lower grades of genius, such as Baggesen and
Steffens, have attained, was the result, in the first case, of a
veritable chameleon-like nature and a talent for language that was
unique of its kind, and in the second, of a complete renunciation of
the mother-tongue.
The author of this volume, who is far from being a chameleon, and who
has by no means given up his native tongue, who stands, indeed, in the
midst of the literary movement which has for some time agitated the
Scandinavian countries, knows very well that a human being can only
wield a powerful influence in the country where he was born, where
he was educated by and for prevailing circumstances. In the present
volume, as in other writings, his design has simply been to write in
the German language for Europe; in other words, to treat his materials
differently than he would have treated them for a purely Scandinavian
public. He owes a heavy debt to the poetry, the philosophy, and the
systematic æsthetics of Germany; but feeling himself called to be
the critic, not the pupil, of the history of German literature, he
cherishes the hope that he may be able to repay at least a small
portion of his debt to Germany.
The nine essays of which this book consists, and of which even those
that have already appeared in periodicals, have been thoroughly
revised, are not to be regarded as "Chips from the Workshop" of a
critic; they are carefully treated literary portraits, united by a
spiritual tie. Men have sat for them, with whom the author, with one
exception (Esaias Tegnér), has been personally acquainted, or of whom
he has at least had a close view. To be sure, the same satisfactory
survey cannot always be taken of a living present as of a completed
past epoch; but perhaps a picture of the present as a whole may be
furnished, the general physiognomy may be arrived at, by characterizing
as faithfully and vividly as possible, some of its typical forms.
The mode of treatment in these essays is greatly diversified. In some
of them the individuality of the author portrayed is represented as
exhaustively as possible; in others, an attempt has simply been made to
present the man in actual person before the eyes of the reader; some
are purely psychological; others offer a fragment of æsthetics; others,
again, are eminently biographical and historical. In all of them the
characteristics of the individual are so chosen as to bring out the
most important features of the author's life and works.
Even the personalities described are of a very heterogeneous nature.
They belong to not less than six nationalities. Common to all of them,
however, there is a something which is more easily felt than defined;
they are modern authors. By this I do not mean that they all, without
exception, with full consciousness, and with their whole hearts, have
paid homage to the "modern" in art and in thought, but merely that
they, even though in a very unequal degree,--which heightens the charm
to the observer,--represent the modern style of mind.
GEORG BRANDES.
CONTENTS.
PAUL HEYSE
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
JOHN STUART MILL
ERNEST RENAN
ESAIAS TEGNÉR
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT
FREDERIK PALUDAN-MÜLLER
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
HENRIK IBSEN
[Illustration: PAUL HEYSE.]
EMINENT AUTHORS OF THE 19TH CENTURY.
PAUL HEYSE.
1875.
"How does it happen," I asked recently of a distinguished
portrait-painter, "that you, who formerly have made successful efforts
in several other branches of art, have at last confined yourself wholly
to portrait-painting?"
"I think it is because it has given me the most pleasure," replied he,
"to study and to perpetuate an object which has never existed before,
and will never appear again."
With these words he seemed to me strikingly to designate the interest
which attracts a person to distinct individuality, that of the inner as
well as that of the outer being. To the critic, too, the individual is
an especially alluring object; to him, too, the execution of a portrait
is a singularly fascinating occupation. Unfortunately, his means of
communication are deplorably far behind those of the painter. What
can be more difficult and more fruitless than the attempt to express
in words that which is purely individual--that which in accordance
with its very nature must mock at every effort of reproduction? Is not
personality, in its uninterrupted flow, the true _perpetuum mobile_,
which does not admit of being constructed?
And yet these insolvable problems ever charm and attract anew. After
we have gradually become familiar with an author, have come to feel
ourselves perfectly at home in his writings, to perceive dimly that
certain of their characteristics dominate others, and then happen to
be by nature of a critical turn of mind, we can find no peace until
we have rendered ourselves an account of our impressions, and made
clear the indistinct image of the character of another _ego_ that has
arisen within our own soul. We hear or read criticisms on an author
and find them absurd. Why are they absurd? Other statements seem to us
but half true. What is lacking to make them wholly true? A new work of
importance from his pen appears. How far have the earlier works been a
preparation for it? We almost become curious to learn how we ourselves
would characterize his talent--and we satisfy our curiosity.
I.
Whoever casts a glance on the long row of closely printed volumes
which form Paul Heyse's complete works, and remembers that the author
was born in the year 1830, will first of all be apt to exclaim,
"What industry!" Involuntarily he will trace back this astonishing
productiveness to a will power of rare endurance. None the less,
however, does it owe its origin to a singularly fortunate nature. This
nature possessed within itself so luxuriant a fruitfulness that it
has yielded its harvest without the least effort of the will, without
any undue exertion; it has yielded a harvest of such variety that we
might believe it to be fostered according to a defined plan and with a
painstaking will; nevertheless, it has obviously been permitted to act
with thorough independence. To allow nature to rule, to follow one's
own pleasure or bent (sich gehen zu lassen[1]), has been from the
outset, as we soon come to feel, Heyse's motto, and so it happens that
with qualities which usually lead to a wandering, scanty, fragmentary
productiveness, he has completed and perfected each undertaking, having
written lyric and epic poems, one grand epos (Thekla), a dozen dramas,
more than fifty "novellen," and two large romances. He began early;
while yet a student, he entered on his literary career. Free from care
as a pedestrian tourist who gayly whistles as he strolls along, never
hurrying, pausing to drink at every spring, lingering before the bushes
by the wayside, and plucking flowers as well as berries, resting in the
shade, and wandering along in the shade, he has gradually trodden a
pathway of such extent that we could only expect to see it traversed by
one who maintained a breathless march, with eyes fixed unwaveringly on
the goal.
The voice followed by Heyse as an author is unquestionably the voice
of instinct. North German though he is, nothing is farther removed
from him than cool deliberation and premeditation. Born in Berlin,
he nevertheless takes root in Munich, and finds in the ardent South
German race and in the throbbing South German life the surroundings
most congenial to his temperament; at home in South Germany, he yet
feels constantly drawn to Italy, as the land where the human plant has
attained a more beautiful and luxuriant growth than elsewhere, one
that is less disturbed by reflex action, and where the voice of the
blood speaks most distinctly, most powerfully. This voice is the siren
voice which allures Heyse. Nature! Nature! keeps ringing in his ear.
Germany has authors who appear almost wholly devoid of inspiration, and
who have only been made what they are by a vigorous North German will
(as Karl Gutzkow, for instance); others (as Fanny Lewald) whose works
bear the impress of an active North German intellect. Neither through
volition nor deliberation does Heyse create and fashion his works, but
simply by heeding the inner impulse.
Many an author is tempted to impart to his reader an idea of himself
differing somewhat from the correct one. He takes pleasure in
representing himself as that which he _would like_ to be,--in former
times, as being endowed either with keener sensibilities or deeper
melancholy than he ever possessed, in our day as being now more
experienced, now colder or harsher, than he really is. More than one
distinguished author, as Mérimée, or Lecomte de Lisle, has so shrunk
from manifesting his emotions that he has succeeded, on the other hand,
in exhibiting an appearance of lack of feeling by no means natural to
him. Such people make it a point of honor not to breathe freely and
easily until they have crossed the snow-line where the human element
in our natures ends, and their contempt for those who lay claim to the
sympathy of the multitude on the plane below leads them to yield to
the temptation to force their way up to a height whither pride, not
instinct, bids them ascend. For Heyse this temptation does not exist.
He has never for a moment been able or willing to write himself into
either greater warmth or coldness than he actually felt. He has never
professed to be writing with his heart's blood when he was fashioning
calmly as an artist, and he has patiently submitted when the critics
censured him for lack of warmth. On the other hand, he has never
been able to report, as so many of the most eminent French authors
have done, a horrible or revolting occurrence with the same stoic
tranquillity, and in the same tone that would be suitable in stating
where a man of the world purchases his cigars, or where the best
champagne could be obtained. He aims neither at the ardent style of
passionate temperaments, nor at the self-control of the worldling. In
comparison with Swinburne he seems rather cold, and in comparison with
Flaubert naïve. But the narrow path in which he wanders is precisely
that which is pointed out to him by the instinct of his innermost
being, by the purely individual and yet so complicated being which is
the result of his nature.
II.
The power which an individual obeys as an artist, necessarily becomes
the power which in his works is exalted to the place of honor. That is
the reason why Heyse as an author glorifies nature. Not what a human
being thinks or desires, but what he is by nature interests Heyse in
him. The highest duty in his eyes is to honor nature and heed her
voice. Sin against nature is the true sin. Give her free scope, and let
her act her own pleasure.
There are, therefore, not many authors who are such marked fatalists as
Heyse. In free will, according to the traditional sense of the word,
he does not believe, and is evidently quite as sceptically opposed to
Kant's categorical imperative as his Edwin or his Felix.[2] But if he
does not believe in innate ideas, he does believe in innate instinct,
and this instinct is sacred to him. In his "novellen" he has described
how unhappy the soul feels when this instinct is either disturbed or
rendered uncertain. In his "Kenne Dich Selbst" (Know Thyself) it is
intelligence, in his "Reise nach dem Glück" (Journey after Happiness)
it is morality that is the disturber of the peace.
In the first of these "novellen" Heyse has represented the anguish
which proceeds from a too early or a premeditated invasion on the
instinctive life of the soul. "That beautiful stupor of youth, that
dreamy, unconscious plenitude of the powers, the pure faculty of
enjoyment of the yet unexhausted senses, was lost to young Franz
through his premature struggle for self-consciousness."[2] He here
portrays the sleeplessness of the mind, which is as dangerous for the
health of the soul as actual sleeplessness is for the welfare of the
body, and shows how one in whom the reflex faculty is maimed "loses
that mysterious, obscure substance which is the very pith and marrow of
our personality."
In "Die Reise nach dem Glück" it is conventional morality, which by
supplanting instinct has shattered the soul. A young girl, having
conquered her own natural impulses from motives of inculcated morality,
has banished her lover from her presence late at night, and thereby
become the innocent cause of his death. The remembrance of this
misfortune haunts her constantly. "If one's own heart does not point
out the way, one is sure to go astray. Once before in my life I was
made wretched because I refused to hearken to my heart, let it cry as
loudly as it would. Now I will pay heed if it but whispers to me, and I
will have ear for nothing else."[3]
In instinct the entire nature is present. Now if the inner devastation
which results where instinct has lost its guiding power, be in Heyse's
eyes the most profound of all misfortunes, to the characters he
delights most in delineating, the consciousness of life presents the
exact opposite; that is, the most profound sense of happiness in the
enjoyment of the totality and harmony of their natures. Heyse, as a
matter of course, is far removed from considering self-introspection
as a principle inimical to the healthy sense of life. His own views
appear to be about the same as those expressed by the invalid in
"Kenne Dich Selbst" in the words: just as agreeable as it may be for
him to awaken in the night, to consider and to know that he is able to
sleep still longer, just so glorious it appears to him to arouse from
his dreamy state of happiness, to collect his thoughts, to reflect,
and then, as it were, to turn over on the other side and indulge in
further enjoyment. At all events, in his romance "Kinder der Welt"
(Children of the World), he has permitted Balder, the most ideally
fashioned character in the book, to carry out this last thought in a
still more significant way. Melancholy views have just been expressed,
speculations regarding the sun which shines indifferently on the
just and on the unjust, and looks down upon more wretchedness than
happiness, and about the infinite, ever-recurring miseries of life, and
more to like effect. Franzel, the young socialist printer, has been
expatiating upon the opinion that one who had truly considered the
lot of humanity, could never find rest or peace, and in his distress
has called life a lie when Balder attempts to show him that a life
in which repose was possible, would no longer deserve the name. And
then Balder explains to Franzel in what the enjoyment of life for him
consists; namely, in "experiencing past and future in one." With the
utmost originality he declares that he could have no enjoyment if
his experiences were incomplete, and that in his silent moments of
contemplation all the scattered elements of his being were united in
one harmonious whole. "Whenever I have wished to do so, that is to
say, as often as I have desired to make for myself a genuine holiday
of life and to enjoy to the utmost my little existence, I have, as it
were, conjured up all the periods of my life at once: my laughing,
sportive childhood, when I was yet strong and well, then the first
glow of thought and feeling, the first pangs of youth, the foreboding
of what a full, healthy, mature life must be, and at the same time the
renunciation which usually becomes a habit only to very old people."
To such a conception of life, human existence is not divided into
moments, which vanish, leaving us to bemoan their disappearance, nor
is it broken into fragments in the service of reciprocally contending
impulses and thoughts; to one who possesses the faculty of casting out
an anchor at any moment, of realizing the totality and reality of one's
own being, life cannot lacerate like
| 728.92424 | 3,526 |
2023-11-16 18:27:55.7905230
| 1,008 | 89 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with
underscores: _italics_.
The Story of a Confederate Boy in the Civil War
By
David E. Johnston
_of the 7th Virginia Infantry Regiment_
Author of "Middle New River Settlements"
With Introduction by
Rev. C. E. Cline, D.D.
A Methodist Minister and Chaplain of the
Military Order of the Loyal Legion, U.S.A.
COPYRIGHT, 1914
BY
DAVID E. JOHNSTON
PUBLISHED BY
GLASS & PRUDHOMME COMPANY
PORTLAND, OREGON
Preface
Some twenty-eight years ago I wrote and published a small book
recounting my personal experiences in the Civil War, but this book is
long out of print, and the publication exhausted. At the urgent request
of some of my old comrades who still survive, and of friends and my own
family, I have undertaken the task of rewriting and publishing this
story.
As stated in the preface to the former volume, the principal object of
this work is to record, largely from memory, and after the lapse of
many years (now nearly half a century) since the termination of the
war between the states of the Federal Union, the history, conduct,
character and deeds of the men who composed Company D, Seventh regiment
of Virginia infantry, and the part they bore in that memorable
conflict.
The chief motive which inspires this undertaking is to give some meager
idea of the Confederate soldier in the ranks, and of his individual
deeds of heroism, particularly of that patriotic, self-sacrificing,
brave company of men with whose fortunes and destiny my own were linked
for four long years of blood and carnage, and to whom during that
period I was bound by ties stronger than hooks of steel; whose
confidence and friendship I fully shared, and as fully reciprocated.
To the surviving members of that company, to the widows and children,
broken-hearted mothers, and to gray-haired, disconsolate fathers (if
such still live) of those who fell amidst the battle and beneath its
thunders, or perished from wounds or disease, this work is dedicated.
The character of the men who composed that company, and their deeds of
valor and heroism, will ever live, and in the hearts of our people will
be enshrined the names of the gallant dead as well as of the living, as
the champions of constitutional liberty. They will be held in grateful
remembrance by their own countrymen, appreciated and recognized by all
people of all lands, who admire brave deeds, true courage, and devotion
of American soldiers to cause and country.
For some of the dates and material I am indebted to comrades. I also
found considerable information from letters written by myself during
the war to a friend, not in the army, and not subject to military duty,
on account of sex; who, as I write, sits by me, having now (February,
1914), for a period of more than forty-six years been the sharer of my
joys, burdens and sorrows; whose only brother, George Daniel Pearis, a
boy of seventeen years, and a member of Bryan's Virginia battery, fell
mortally wounded in the battle of Cloyd's Farm, May 9, 1864.
DAVID E. JOHNSTON.
Portland, Oregon, May, 1914.
Introduction
The author of this book is my neighbor. He was a Confederate, and I a
Union soldier. Virginia born, he worked hard in youth. A country
lawyer, a member of the Senate of West Virginia, Representative in
Congress, and Circuit Judge, his life has been one of activity and
achievement. Blessed with a face and manner which disarm suspicion,
inspire confidence and good will, he makes new friends, and retains old
ones.
Judge Johnston (having through life practiced the virtues of a good
Baptist), is, therefore, morally sound to the core. He has succeeded,
not by luck or chance, but because of what he is. Withal, he has
cultivated the faculty for hard work; in fact, through life he has
liked nothing so well as hard work.
A vast good nature, running easily into jocular talk, with interesting
stories, in which he excels, he is able to meet every kind of man in
every rank of society, catching with unerring instinct
| 729.109933 | 3,527 |
2023-11-16 18:27:55.8540520
| 1,019 | 415 |
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
THE HUMAN BOY
AND THE WAR
BY
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1916
_All rights reserved_
Copyright 1916
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Set up and electrotyped. Published June, 1916
Reprinted October, 1916.
CONTENTS
The Battle of the Sand-Pit
The Mystery of Fortescue
The Countryman of Kant
Travers Minor, Scout
The Hutchings Testimonial
The Fight
Percy Minimus and His Tommy
The Prize Poem
The Revenge
The "Turbot's" Aunt
Cornwallis and Me and Fate
For the Red Cross
The Last of Mitchell
THE HUMAN BOY
AND THE WAR
THE BATTLE OF THE SAND-PIT
After the war had fairly got going, naturally we thought a good deal
about it, and it was explained to us by Fortescue that, behind the
theory of Germany licking us, or us licking Germany, as the case might
be, there were two great psychical ideas. As I was going to be a soldier
myself, the actual fighting interested me most, but the psychical ideas
were also interesting, because Fortescue said that often the cause won
the battle. Therefore it was better to have a good psychical idea
behind you, like us, than a rotten one, like Germany. I always thought
the best men and the best ships and the best brains and the most money
were simply bound to come out top in the long run; but Fortescue said
that a bad psychical idea behind these things often wrecks the whole
show. And so I asked him if we had got a good psychical idea behind us,
and he said we had a champion one, whereas the Germans were trusting to
a perfectly deadly psychical idea, which was bound to have wrecked them
in any case--even if they'd had twenty million men instead of ten.
So that was all right, though, no doubt, the Germans think their idea of
being top dog of the whole world is really finer than ours, which is
"Live and let live." And, as I pointed out to Fortescue, no doubt if we
had such a fearfully fine opinion of ourselves as the Germans have, then
we also should want to be top dog of the world.
And Fortescue said:--
"That's just it, Travers major. Thanks to our sane policy of respecting
the rights of all men, and never setting ourselves up as the only nation
that counts, we do count--first and foremost; but if we'd gone out into
the whole earth and bawled that we were going to make it Anglo-Saxon,
then we should have been laughed at, as the Germans are now; and we
should dismally have failed as colonists, just as they have."
So, of course, I saw all he meant by his psychical idea, and no doubt it
was a jolly fine thought; and most, though not all, of the Sixth saw it
also. But the Fifth saw it less, and the Fourth didn't see it at all.
The Fourth were, in fact, rather an earthy lot about this time, and they
seemed to have a foggy sort of notion that might is right; or, if it
isn't, it generally comes out right, which to the minds of the Fourth
amounted to the same thing.
The war naturally had a large effect upon us, and according as we looked
at the war, so you could judge of our opinions in general. I and my
brother, Travers minor, and Briggs and Saunders--though Briggs and
Travers minor were themselves in the Lower Fourth--were interested in
the strategy and higher command. We foretold what was going to happen
next, and were sometimes quite right; whereas chaps like Abbott and
Blades and Mitchell and Pegram and Rice were only interested in the
brutal part, and the bloodshed and the grim particulars about the
enemy's trenches after a sortie, and so on.
In time, curiously enough, there got to be two war parties in the
school. Of course they both wanted England to win, but we took a higher
line about it, and looked on to the end, and argued about the division
of the spoil, and the general improvement of Europe, and the new map,
and the advancement of better ideas, and so on; while Rice and Pegram
and such-like took the "horrible slaughter" line, and rejoiced to hear
of parties surrounded, and
| 729.173462 | 3,528 |
2023-11-16 18:27:56.0725830
| 1,086 | 398 |
Produced by Sue Asscher, Robert Prince and David Widger
THE GEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE OF THE ANTIQUITY OF MAN
By Sir Charles Lyell, BT., F.R.S., Etc.
London: Published By J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd.
And In New York By E.P. Dutton & Co.
With Introduction And Notes By R.H. Rastall, M.A., F.G.S.
EVERYMAN
I WILL GO WITH THEE
& BE THY GUIDE
IN THY MOST NEED
TO GO BY THY SIDE.
EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY
EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS.
SCIENCE.
HOC SOLUM SCIO QUOD NIHIL SCIO.
INTRODUCTION.
The "Antiquity of Man" was published in 1863, and ran into a third
edition in the course of that year. The cause of this is not far to
seek. Darwin's "Origin of Species" appeared in 1859, only four years
earlier, and rapidly had its effect in drawing attention to the great
problem of the origin of living beings. The theories of Darwin and
Wallace brought to a head and presented in a concrete shape the somewhat
vague speculations as to development and evolution which had long been
floating in the minds of naturalists. In the actual working out of
Darwin's great theory it is impossible to overestimate the influence of
Lyell. This is made abundantly clear in Darwin's letters, and it must
never be forgotten that Darwin himself was a geologist. His training
in this science enabled him to grasp the import of the facts so ably
marshalled by Lyell in the "Principles of Geology," a work which,
as Professor Judd has clearly shown,* contributed greatly to the
advancement of evolutionary theory in general. (* Judd "The Coming of
Evolution" ("Cambridge Manuals of Science and Literature") Cambridge
1910 chapters 6 and 7.)
From a study of the evolution of plants and of the lower animals it was
an easy and obvious transition to man, and this step was soon taken.
Since in his physical structure man shows so close a resemblance to the
higher animals it was a natural conclusion that the laws governing
the development of the one should apply also to the other, in spite of
preconceived opinions derived from authority. Unfortunately the times
were then hardly ripe for a calm and logical treatment of this question:
prejudice in many cases took the place of argument, and the result was
too often an undignified squabble instead of a scientific discussion.
However, the dogmatism was not by any means all on one side. The
disciples as usual went farther than the master, and their teaching
when pushed to extremities resulted in a peculiarly dreary kind of
materialism, a mental attitude which still survives to a certain extent
among scientific and pseudo-scientific men of the old school. In more
Recent times this dogmatic agnosticism of the middle Victorian period
has been gradually replaced by speculations of a more positive type,
such as those of the Mendelian school in biology and the doctrines of
Bergson on the philosophical side. With these later developments we are
not here concerned.
In dealing with the evolution and history of man as with that of any
other animal, the first step is undoubtedly to collect the facts, and
this is precisely what Lyell set out to do in the "Antiquity of
Man." The first nineteen chapters of the book are purely an empirical
statement of the evidence then available as to the existence of man in
pre-historic times: the rest of the book is devoted to a consideration
of the connection between the facts previously stated and Darwin's
theory of the origin of species by variation and natural selection. The
keynote of Lyell's work, throughout his life, was observation. Lyell was
no cabinet geologist; he went to nature and studied phenomena at first
hand. Possessed of abundant leisure and ample means he travelled far and
wide, patiently collecting material and building up the modern science
of physical geology, whose foundations had been laid by Hutton and
Playfair. From the facts thus collected he drew his inferences, and if
later researches showed these inferences to be wrong, unlike some of his
contemporaries, he never hesitated to say so. Thus and thus only is true
progress in science attained.
Lyell is universally recognised as the leader of the Uniformitarian
school of geologists, and it will be well to consider briefly what is
implied in this term. The principles of Uniformitarianism may be
summed up thus: THE PRESENT IS THE KEY TO THE PAST. That is to say,
the processes which have gone on in the past were the same in general
character as those now seen in operation, though probably differing
in degree. This theory is in direct opposition to the ideas of the
CATASTROPHIC school, which were dominant at the beginning of the
nineteenth century. The catastrophists attributed all past changes to
| 729.391993 | 3,529 |
2023-11-16 18:27:56.1562140
| 4,096 | 50 |
Produced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
AN EPITOME OF THE Homoeopathic Healing Art,
CONTAINING THE NEW DISCOVERIES AND IMPROVEMENTS TO THE PRESENT TIME;
DESIGNED
FOR THE USE OF FAMILIES, FOR TRAVELERS ON THEIR JOURNEY,
AND AS A POCKET COMPANION FOR THE PHYSICIAN.
BY B. L. HILL, M. D.,
Professor of General, Special, and Surgical Anatomy Late Professor of
Surgery, Obstetrics, and Diseases Females and Children, in the W. H.
College, Author of the "Homoeopathic Practice of Surgery," &c., &c.
CLEVELAND, OHIO: JOHN HALL, 72 SUPERIOR STREET.
CHICAGO, ILL. HALSEY & KING, 162 CLARK STREET.
1859.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859,
By B. L. HILL, M. D.,
In the Clerk's office of the District Court in and for the Northern
District of Ohio.
PINKERTON & NEVINS' Print, Cleveland, O.
* * * * *
TABLE OF REMEDIES.
In this table I have affixed to the remedies figures designating the
dilutions or the attenuations, at which, under ordinary circumstances, I
would advise their use. The strongest, or mother tinctures, marked with
an apha (0), the dilutions or triturations to be of the decimal degrees
of attenuation, are marked 1, 2, 3, &c., to designate that they are to
be used at 1-10th, 1-100th, 1-1000th, &c., the strength of the pure
drugs.
The list for a full FAMILY CASE contains all the remedies recommended in
this book for diseases that may be safely trusted to unprofessional
hands.
The TRAVELER'S CASE needs only such medicines as are prescribed for the
diseases which he would be most liable to contract on his journey;
though I have put in the principal ones used in domestic practice, so
that the Case will do for family use.
The CHOLERA CASE is only supplied with such remedies as are particularly
applicable to that disease; useful, however, for many other complaints.
TRAVELER'S CASE.
1 Aconite p 3|15 Hydrastus Can. p 1
2 Apis Mellifica p 3|16 Ipecac p 3
3 Arsenicum p 3|17 Mercurius sol. p 3
4 Arnica tr 0|18 Mercurius cor. tt 2
5 Arum triphyllum tt 2|19 Macrotin tt 1
6 Belladonna p 3|20 Nux Vom. p 3
7 Baptisia p 1|21 Phosphorus p 3
8 Bryonia p 3|22 Phos. acid p 3
9 Colocynth p 3|23 Podophyllin p 2
10 China Sul. tt 1|24 Rhus toxicod. p 3
11 Chamomilla p 3|25 Secale p 3
12 Copaiva p 2|26 Tartar emetic p 3
13 Cuprum p 3|27|Veratrum p 3
14 Eupatorium Aro. p 1|
CHOLERA CASE.
1 Aconite p 3|8 Laurocerasus p 4
2 Arsenicum p 3|9 Opium p 3
3 Belladonna p 3|10 Merc. cor. p 3
4 Camphor tr 0|11 Phosphorus p 3
5 Carbo Veg. p 5|12 Phos. acid p 3
6 Cuprum p 3|13 Secale p 3
7 Ipecac p 3|14 Veratrum p 3
FULL FAMILY CASE.
Tr. is used for tincture, Tt. trituration, P. pellets.
REMEDIES. |CONTRACTIONS.
|
1 Aconitum. |Aconite Tr 0 1 p 3
2 Althaea. |
3 Apis mellifica. |Apis mel. 0 p 2 3
4 Arsenicum. |Arsenicum 0 p 3
5 Arnica. |Arnica, 0 p 3
6 Arum triphyllum. |Arum triphyllum, 0 tt 2
7 Belladonna. |Bell. tr 1 p 4
8 Baptisia tinctoria. |Baptisia, tr 0 2
9 Bryonia. |Bryonia, tr p 3
10 Carbo. Vegetabilis. |Carbo. Veg. tr p 4
11 Cantharides. |Cantharides, tr 0 p 3
12 Colocynthis. |Colocynth, tr or p 3
13 China Sulphuricum. |China Sul. tt 1
14 Chamomilla. |Chamomilla tr or p 3
15 Copaiva. |Copaiva tr 1 p 2
16 Cauloph. Thalictroides.|Caulophyllum tr 1
17 Cuprum. |Cuprum, p 3
18 Cuprum Aceticum. |
19 Cornus Sericea. |Cornus sericea, tr 0 p 2
20 Conium maculatum. |Conium mac. tr 0 p 3
21 Coffea. |Coffea p 4
22 Eryngium Aquaticum. |Eryngium Aquaticum 2
23 Eupatorium aromaticum |Eupatorium aro. tr 0 p 2
24 Hepar Sulphur. |
25 Hydrastus Canadensis. |Hydrastin tr 0 p 2
26 Hamamelis Virginica. |Hamamelis Vir. tr 0 p 3
27 Ipecacuanha. |Ipecac tr 0 p 2 3
28 Laurocerasus. |Laurocerasus p 3
29 Mercurius solubilis. |Merc. tr 3
30 Mercurius corrosivus. |Mercurius cor. tt 2 p 3
31 Macrotys Racemosa. |Macrotin, tr 2
32 Nux Vomica. |Nux p 3
33 Opium. |Opium p 3
34 Phosphorus. |Phosphorus, tr 2 p 3
35 Phosphoric acid. |Phos. acid, tr 2 p 3
36 Podophyllum peltatum. |Podophyllin, tt 1 p 3
37 Pulsatilla. |Pulsatilla 3
38 Rhus Toxicodendron. |Rhus Tox. p 3
39 Secale cornutum. |Secale, tr 1 p 3
40 Santonine. |Santonine, tr 1
41 Spongia. |Spongia, p 4
42 Tartar Emetic. |Tartar emetic tr 2 p 3
43 Thuya. |
44 Veratrum alba. |Veratrum. p 3
AN EPITOME
OF THE
HOMOEOPATHIC HEALING ART.
Introduction.
This work contains in a _condensed form_ a very large portion of all
that is practically useful in the treatment of the diseases ordinarily
occurring in this country. The symptoms are given with sufficient
minuteness and detail to enable any one of ordinary capacities of
observation to distinguish the complaint; and the treatment is so
_plainly_ laid down, that no one need make a mistake. If strictly
followed, it will, in a very large proportion of cases, effect cures,
even when administered by those unacquainted with the medical sciences
generally. It has been written from necessity, to meet the demands of
community for a more definite work in a concise form, that should
contain remedies of the most reliable character, with such directions
for their use as can be followed by the _traveler on his journey_, or by
families at home, when no physician is at hand. It might seem to some
preposterous to speak of a _demand_ for another _domestic_
Homoeopathic Practice, when half a score or more of such works are now
extant, some having come out within a very short time. The demand
arises, not from the want of Books, but from the defects of those that
exist. There is in most of them, too little point and definiteness in
the prescriptions, and a kind of vague doubting recommendation
noticeable to all, which carries the impression at once to every reader,
of a want of _confidence_ by the author in his own directions.
Again, in some of the works there is too much confusion, the symptoms
not being laid down with sufficient clearness to indicate the best
remedy. Some of the works are unnecessarily large and cumbersome, while
the real amount of valuable practical matter is comparatively meager,
obliging the reader to pay for paper and binding without the contained
value of his money. I do not claim entire perfection for this work, yet
I do claim it to be several steps in advance of the books now extant.
* * * * *
This work is my own, being the result of my practical experience and
observation. I have introduced several remedies that, though they are
familiar to me, and have been used in my practice for many years, are,
nevertheless, comparatively strange and new to most of the profession.
Of some we have no extensive provings yet published, still the provings
have been made, both upon the healthy and the sick. Their use, as
directed in this work, is in strict accordance with their
Homoeopathic relation to the symptoms for which they are prescribed.
Some may object to my practice of giving several remedies in alternation
or rotation and in quick succession. To such I would say, When you try
this mode of practice and on comparing it with the opposite one of
giving only one remedy, and that at long intervals between the doses,
find my mode to be less successful than yours, _then_ it will be time
for you to make your objections. _You_ may rely upon the vague
hypotheses of the books, and give your high dilutions singly, at long
intervals, and let your patients die for want of _real_ treatment, while
I will use lower dilutions and give two or more remedies in quick
succession and cure mine. I only speak what is in accordance with
universal observation, where the two modes are compared on equal
footing, when I affirm that, while the former _may_ effect some cures,
_most_ of the recoveries under it, are spontaneous and unaided, the
latter _does_ cure; the disease being arrested by the medicine, and the
proportion of unfavorable terminations is much less under the latter
than the former course. I know many learned and successful practitioners
who have substituted low dilutions and the giving of several remedies in
quick succession for the old mode of high attenuations and long
intervals of single remedies, all of whom still adhere to the low, while
I have yet to hear of the man who has gone _back_ to high single
remedies and long intervals. My reason then, for the course here laid
down, is, that it will _cure_ with more promptness and certainty. If
others are so prejudiced as not to _try it_, they will still remain in
ignorance of the _best practice_, and their patients will be the
sufferers.
In reference to the fear that is expressed that if one medicine is given
too soon after another, it will antidote the former, I have simply to
say, I have no confidence in the hypothetic antidotal powers of the
medicines one over another, as laid down in the books. It has not been
verified by experience, and has no foundation in truth. It is true that
one medicine will remove morbid symptoms that might be produced by an
overdose of another; but both being given in the ordinary medicinal
doses, neither of them to such an extent as to produce sensible
symptoms, if given alone, would not, if given in quick succession,
prevent each other from acting to remove their own peculiar symptoms
that exist in the system at the time. So if we have the symptoms that
are found in two or more different remedies present in the same attack,
as is often the ease, we may give these several remedies one after
another, with confidence in their curative effects for the symptoms they
represent.
This has been my practice, and it has been _eminently successful_, and
therefore I commend it to others, treating with pity the infirmity of
those who ignorantly condemn it, as "They know not what they do."
ADMINISTRATION OF REMEDIES.
The remedies are either in the form of tinctures saturated, more or less
dilute, in Pellets or Powders. The _Pellets_ may be taken dry upon the
tongue, allowed to dissolve and swallowed. The dose for an adult is from
4 to 7; for an infant, from birth to one year old, 1 to 3; from one to
three years, 2 to 4; from three to ten years, 3 to 5 pellets; after ten,
same as an adult. 15 or 20 pellets may be dissolved in a gill of water,
and a tea-spoonful dose given at a time, being particular to stir it
until all are perfectly dissolved, stirring it each dose.
_Powders_ may be taken in the same manner, upon the tongue, a dose when
dry, being about the same bulk as of the pellets as nearly as
practicable. If put into water, to a gill of water add of the powder
about what would lie on a three cent piece. If the liquid medicine is
used, add 1 drop to a gill of water, and use tea-spoonful doses as above
directed. The length of time between the doses should be, in Dysentery
and Diarrhoea, regulated by the frequency of the discharges, giving a
dose as often as the evacuations occur. In acute and violent diseases,
the doses should be repeated oftener than in milder cases--about once an
hour as a general rule is often enough, though in some cases they should
be given in half an hour or oftener. In mild cases, once in two or three
hours is often enough, and in chronic cases, once or twice a day.
Bathing.
The surface of the body should be kept clean, as far as possible, and to
this end, in summer, should be well bathed at least once a day. In
winter, though useful, it is not so indispensable; still no one should
neglect the bath more than a week, and all ought to bathe at least twice
a week, if not oftener, even in winter.
The bath should be of a temperature that is agreeable, and the room
warm, especially for a feeble person. It should be so applied as not to
give a general chill, as such shocks are always hurtful.
The _teeth_ should be kept clean and free from tartar. They should be
cleaned every morning and after each meal. The feet, legs and arms
should be warmly clothed, especially the _arms_, as an exposure of them
to cold is liable to induce affections of the lungs, and to aggravate
any existing disease of those organs.
By exposure of the feet and legs to cold, diseases and derangements of
the female organs, even in young girls, are induced; and one prolific
cause of female weakness is to be found in improper dressing of the feet
and legs, while the _lung affections_ of females, now so fearfully
prevalent, are traceable in a great degree to the fashion that has
prevailed for a few years, of exposing the arms to cold.
Diet.
The diet of the sick should he nutricious, but at all times simple, free
from greasy substances, and from all stimulating condiments whatsoever,
as well as from vinegar, or food in which vinegar is used.
In short, let the food be nutritious, easily digested, small or moderate
in quantity, and free from all "seasoning," except salt or sugar; and if
salt is used at all, let the quantity be very small, much less than
would be used in health.
Diarrhoea.
This disease consists in a looseness of the bowels, generally
accompanied with pain in the abdomen, more or less severe. It sometimes
occurs without pain, but is _then_ attended with a sense of weakness,
and a general feeling of uneasiness. It prevails mostly in the warm
seasons, but may occur at any time. It is not usually considered a very
dangerous affection, except during the prevalence of _Cholera_, or in
children during hot weather.
TREATMENT.
_Veratrum_ and _Phos. acid_, given alternately, at intervals, as
frequently as the discharges from the bowels occur, will generally be
sufficient. If there is nausea or vomiting, or cramping pains in the
bowels, give _Ipecac_ in alternation with one or both the former. If
thirst and a burning of the
| 729.475624 | 3,530 |
2023-11-16 18:27:56.2561290
| 1,371 | 33 |
Produced by Chuck Greif, Broward County Libraries and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: frontispiece]
FROM THE
EASY CHAIR
BY
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS
SECOND SERIES
[Illustration: colophon]
NEW YORK
HARPER AND BROTHERS
MDCCCXCIV
Copyright, 1893, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
Copyright, 1894, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
_All rights reserved._
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE NEW YEAR 1
THE PUBLIC SCOLD 10
NATIONAL NOMINATING CONVENTION 16
BRYANT'S COUNTRY 23
_The Game of Newport_ 31
THE LECTURE LYCEUM 39
TWEED 47
COMMENCEMENT 60
THE STREETS OF NEW YORK 69
THE MORALITY OF DANCING 76
THE HOG FAMILY 81
THE ENLIGHTENED OBSERVER 88
RALPH WALDO EMERSON 94
HENRY WARD BEECHER 110
THE GOLDEN AGE 119
SPRING PICTURES 126
PROPER AND IMPROPER 130
BELINDA AND THE VULGAR 137
DECAYED GENTILITY 142
THE PHARISEE 149
LADY MAVOURNEEN ON HER TRAVELS 155
GENERAL SHERMAN 162
THE AMERICAN GIRL 166
ANNUS MIRABILIS 174
STATUES IN CENTRAL PARK 186
THE GRAND TOUR 193
"EASY DOES IT, GUVNER" 203
SISTE, VIATOR 208
CHRISTENDOM _vs._ CHRISTIANITY 216
FRANCIS GEORGE SHAW 222
THE NEW YEAR.
IN Germany on _Sylvesterabend_--the eve of Saint Sylvester, the last
night of the year--you shall wake and hear a chorus of voices singing
hymns, like the English waits at Christmas or the Italian _pifferari_.
In the deep silence, and to one awakening, the music has a penetrating
and indefinable pathos, the pathos that Richter remarked in all music,
and which our own Parsons has hinted delicately--
"Strange was the music that over me stole,
For 'twas born of old sadness that lives in my
soul."
There is something of the same feeling in the melody of college songs
heard at a little distance on awakening in the night before
Commencement. The songs are familiar, but they have an appealing
melancholy unknown before. Their dying cadences murmur like a muffled
peal heralding the visionary procession that is passing out of the
enchanted realm of youth forever. So the voices of Sylvester's Eve chant
the requiem of the year that is dead. So much more of life, of
opportunity, of achievement, passed; so much nearer age, decline, the
mystery of the end. The music swells in rich and lingering strains. It
is a moment of exaltation, of purification. The chords are dying; the
hymn is ending; it ends. The voices are stilled. It is the benediction
of Saint Sylvester:
"She died and left to me...
The memory of what has been,
And nevermore will be."
But this is the midnight refrain--The King is dead! With the earliest
ray of daylight the exulting strain begins--Live the King! The bells are
ringing; the children are shouting; there are gifts and greetings, good
wishes and gladness. "Happy New Year! happy New Year!" It is the day of
hope and a fresh beginning. Old debts shall be forgiven; old feuds
forgotten; old friendships revived. To-day shall be better than
yesterday. The good vows shall be kept. A blessing shall be wrung from
the fleet angel Opportunity. There shall be more patience, more courage,
more faith; the dream shall become life; to-day shall wear the glamour
of to-morrow. Ring out the old, ring in the new!
Charles Lamb says that no one ever regarded the first of January with
indifference; no one, that is to say, of the new style. But a
fellow-pilgrim of the old style, before Pope Gregory retrenched those
ten days in October, three hundred years ago, or the British Parliament
those eleven days in September, a hundred and thirty-five years ago,
took no thought of the first of January. It was a date of no
significance. To have mused and moralized upon that day more than upon
any other would have exposed him to the mischance against which Rufus
Choate asked his daughter to defend him at the opera: "Tell me, my dear,
when to applaud, lest unwittingly I dilate with the wrong emotion." The
Pope and the Parliament played havoc with the date of the proper annual
emotion. Moreover, if a man should happen to think of it, every day is a
new-year's day. If we propose a prospect or a retrospect we can stand
tiptoe on the top of every day, yes, and of every hour, in the year.
Good-morning is but a daily greeting of Happy New Year.
But these smooth generalizations and truisms do not disturb the charm of
regularly recurring times and seasons. That the fifth of October, or any
day in any month, actually begins a new year, does not give to that date
the significance and the feeling of the first of January. Our
fellow-pilgrim of the old style must look out for himself. He may have
begun his year in March, and a blustering birth it was. But we are
children of the new style, and the first of January is our New Year.
That is our day of remembrance, our feast of hope, the first page of our
fresh calendar of good resolutions, the day of underscoring and emphasis
| 729.575539 | 3,531 |
2023-11-16 18:27:56.8865710
| 1,161 | 397 |
Produced by Aaron Cannon
THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS
by Stewart Edward White
1913
I. ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE
Books of sporting, travel, and adventure in countries little known to
the average reader naturally fall in two classes-neither, with a very
few exceptions, of great value. One class is perhaps the logical result
of the other.
Of the first type is the book that is written to make the most of far
travels, to extract from adventure the last thrill, to impress the
awestricken reader with a full sense of the danger and hardship the
writer has undergone. Thus, if the latter takes out quite an ordinary
routine permit to go into certain districts, he makes the most of
travelling in "closed territory," implying that he has obtained an
especial privilege, and has penetrated where few have gone before him.
As a matter of fact, the permit is issued merely that the authorities
may keep track of who is where. Anybody can get one. This class of
writer tells of shooting beasts at customary ranges of four and five
hundred yards. I remember one in especial who airily and as a matter
of fact killed all his antelope at such ranges. Most men have shot
occasional beasts at a quarter mile or so, but not airily nor as
a matter of fact: rather with thanksgiving and a certain amount of
surprise. The gentleman of whom I speak mentioned getting an eland at
seven hundred and fifty yards. By chance I happened to mention this to a
native Africander.
"Yes," said he, "I remember that; I was there."
This interested me-and I said so.
"He made a long shot," said I.
"A GOOD long shot," replied the Africander.
"Did you pace the distance?"
He laughed. "No," said he, "the old chap was immensely delighted. 'Eight
hundred yards if it was an inch!' he cried."
"How far was it?"
"About three hundred and fifty. But it was a long shot, all right."
And it was! Three hundred and fifty yards is a very long shot. It is
over four city blocks-New York size. But if you talk often enough and
glibly enough of "four and five hundred yards," it does not sound like
much, does it?
The same class of writer always gets all the thrills. He speaks of
"blanched cheeks," of the "thrilling suspense," and so on down the gamut
of the shilling shocker. His stuff makes good reading; there is no
doubt of that. The spellbound public likes it, and to that extent it has
fulfilled its mission. Also, the reader believes it to the letter-why
should he not? Only there is this curious result: he carries away in
his mind the impression of unreality, of a country impossible to
be understood and gauged and savoured by the ordinary human mental
equipment. It is interesting, just as are historical novels, or the
copper-riveted heroes of modern fiction, but it has no real relation
with human life. In the last analysis the inherent untruth of the
thing forces itself on him. He believes, but he does not apprehend; he
acknowledges the fact, but he cannot grasp its human quality. The affair
is interesting, but it is more or less concocted of pasteboard for his
amusement. Thus essential truth asserts its right.
All this, you must understand, is probably not a deliberate attempt
to deceive. It is merely the recrudescence under the stimulus of a
brand-new environment of the boyish desire to be a hero. When a man
jumps back into the Pleistocene he digs up some of his ancestors'
cave-qualities. Among these is the desire for personal adornment. His
modern development of taste precludes skewers in the ears and polished
wire around the neck; so he adorns himself in qualities instead. It is
quite an engaging and diverting trait of character. The attitude of mind
it both presupposes and helps to bring about is too complicated for my
brief analysis. In itself it is no more blameworthy than the small boy's
pretence at Indians in the back yard; and no more praiseworthy than
infantile decoration with feathers.
In its results, however, we are more concerned. Probably each of us has
his mental picture that passes as a symbol rather than an idea of the
different continents. This is usually a single picture-a deep river,
with forest, hanging snaky vines, anacondas and monkeys for the east
coast of South America, for example. It is built up in youth by chance
reading and chance pictures, and does as well as a pink place on the
map to stand for a part of the world concerning which we know nothing at
all. As time goes on we extend, expand, and modify this picture in the
light of what knowledge we may acquire. So the reading of many books
modifies and expands our first crude notions of Equatorial Africa. And
the result is, if we read enough of the sort I describe above, we build
the idea of an exciting, dangerous, extra-human continent, visited by
half-real people of the texture of the historical-fiction hero, who have
strange and interesting adventures which we could not possibly imagine
happening to ourselves.
This type of book is directly responsible for the
| 730.205981 | 3,532 |
2023-11-16 18:27:58.1385570
| 416 | 151 |
Produced by Greg Lindahl and PG Distributed Proofreaders, and Anzia
Kraus of the CWRU Library
[ Note from the Project Gutenberg post-processor:
This book uses a variety of special characters, some of which are
easily representable in a text font, some of which are not.
A deg. (eth) and A3/4/Az (thorn/Thorn) are as-is. Yough is represented as the
two-character sequence 3*.
The special characters A|/A (ae/AE) do not have accented forms in
the standard text font, so when accented have been written as A|*
and A*.
Long marks over Latin vowels have been marked as u*, etc.
End-of-line hyphens present a significant problem in this book, as
many different languages are used, some of which hyphenate many
words. For the most part these end-of-line hyphens have been joined;
on occasion they are marked as -*.
Greek words are transliterated using the standard Gutenberg scheme.
Italics are marked _thus_, and boldface ~thus~.
Finally, the "additions and corrections" at the end have been added
into the main text, marked by [Addition] or [Correction] after the
entry.
Images of this book are available at http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/concise/
Corrections are welcome. ]
[Illustration]
A CONCISE DICTIONARY OF
MIDDLE ENGLISH
_MAYHEW AND SKEAT_
A CONCISE DICTIONARY OF MIDDLE ENGLISH FROM A.D. 1150 TO 1580
BY THE
REV. A. L. MAYHEW, M.A. OF WADHAM COLLEGE, OXFORD
AND THE
REV. WALTER W. SKEAT LITT.D.; LL
| 731.457967 | 3,533 |
2023-11-16 18:27:58.4633650
| 91 | 24 |
Produced by Andrea Ball, David Starner, Charles Franks,
Juliet Sutherland, and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team
EZRA POUND: HIS METRIC AND POETRY
By T. S. Eliot
BOOKS BY EZRA POUND
PROVENCA, being poems selected from Personae, Exultations, and
Canzoniere. (Small, Maynard, Boston, 1910
| 731.782775 | 3,534 |
2023-11-16 18:27:58.6424820
| 4,087 | 38 |
Produced by Steven Gibbs, Moti Ben-Ari and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS
IN
THE RIFLE BRIGADE.
BY THE LATE
WILLIAM SURTEES,
QUARTERMASTER.
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, EDINBURGH; AND
T. CADELL, STRAND, LONDON.
MDCCCXXXIII.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, PAUL'S WORK, CANONGATE.
TO
MAJOR-GEN. SIR ANDREW F. BARNARD,
K.C.B. and K.C.H.
AND THE OFFICERS OF THE RIFLE BRIGADE,
THESE REMAINS OF MY DECEASED BROTHER
ARE MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,
BY THEIR OBLIGED AND MOST
OBEDIENT SERVANT,
JOHN SURTEES.
PREFATORY NOTICE.
The Author of the following Narrative entered the Army in early life. He
commenced his military career in 1795, as a private soldier in the
Northumberland Militia; and in the following year he volunteered into
the Pompadours. In this regiment he first faced the enemy, during the
expedition to Holland under the Duke of York. On getting his discharge
from the Pompadours, in 1802, he again entered the service as a private
in the Rifle Brigade, to which he was attached for a period of
twenty-five years. From his steady conduct, and ardent love for his
profession, he was soon advanced from the ranks, and, after various
intermediate steps, was appointed Quartermaster; a situation which he
held as long as he continued in the corps, enjoying the respect and
esteem of his brother officers of all ranks, as is amply testified by
the letters which form the Appendix to this volume.
Though, as Quartermaster, the Author was not called by duty to join in
battle, yet he lost no opportunity of entering the scene of action, or
of placing himself in a favourable situation for observing what was
passing. It is unnecessary to enumerate the arduous services of the
Rifle Brigade from 1802 to 1815. During the whole of that period the
Author was actively engaged with his corps.
The Narrative is faithfully--indeed literally--printed from the Author's
MS. as he left it at his death. The critical reader may therefore detect
various inaccuracies which, had life been spared to the Author, would
probably have been corrected; but he will find much to approve, and,
hackneyed as Narratives of the Peninsular War have become, he will also
find much that is new. There is no embellishment in the style of the
Author's composition, but there is a quiet Defoe-like sincerity and
simplicity characteristic of his pages, and a strain of unaffected
piety, that is very pleasing; and the scenes and descriptions which he
gives, though sometimes singularly chosen, and reported quite with a
manner of his own, are on the whole portrayed with strong graphic
effect. One word, however, before closing,--our Author is never vulgar.
A severe pulmonary affection compelled him to quit his corps in 1826. He
retired to Corbridge, his native village, where he arrived on the 24th
of October in that year, and continued there, respected and beloved, and
constantly engaged in acts of benevolence, till the period of his death,
28th May, 1830.
_November 23, 1832._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE.
Birth and Parentage--Enters the Militia--Volunteers into the
Line--Joins the army destined for Holland--The troops embark at
Deal--Land at the Helder--Laxity of discipline--March for
Schagen--Detachment under Sir Ralph Abercromby sent to surprise
Hoorne--Hoorne surrenders, 1
CHAPTER II.
The Russian Allies carry Bergen--Allow themselves to be
surprised, and the whole army forced to retire to their former
position--Skirmishing in the vicinity of Old Patten--The
Russians endeavour to force their way back to Bergen--The
Russian and British forces joined--The enemy forced to abandon
Egmont-op-Zee--Alkmaar surrenders--The troops advance to Egmont
Binnen--Skirmishing--General engagement--The Enemy
repulsed--The Forces retire to Zaand Wyck--Armistice
concluded--Return to England, 13
CHAPTER III.
Arrive in England--The Pompadours embark for Ireland--Arrive at
Kinsale--Privations in Ireland in 1800--Peace concluded--Our
Author resolves to return home, but ultimately volunteers into
the Rifle Corps or 95th--Embarks for England, and joins his
Regiment at Sussex--Is promoted, 35
CHAPTER IV.
Made Pay-sergeant--Moral Reflections--Wreck of a Dutch East
Indiaman--Reduced Officers--War with France in 1803--Encampment
at Thorncliffe under the command of General Sir John
Moore--Encampment broke up, November 1804--Embark for Germany,
October 1805--Vicissitudes at Sea--Land at Cuxhaven--March to
Bremen--Outposts established--Retrograde movements, in
consequence of the defeat of the Allied Forces at
Austerlitz--The Allied Forces evacuate Germany--Re-embarkation
of the troops--The Rifle Corps, or 95th, land at Yarmouth, 45
CHAPTER IV.*
Our Author made Quartermaster-Sergeant of the 2d battalion,
which he joins at Feversham, Kent--Expedition to
Denmark--Embark at Deal--Land at Vedbeck, Zealand--Partial
Engagements--Siege of Copenhagen--A division under Sir Arthur
Wellesley advance to Kioge--Copenhagen capitulates--Amnesty
between the Danish forces in the Island of Zealand, and the
British--The British evacuate Denmark--Embark at
Copenhagen--Arrive in the Downs--Land at Deal, 59
CHAPTER V.
Our Author marries--The Battalion to which he belongs ordered
to join the Expedition fitting out for Corunna--Movements of
the Army in Spain--Return to England, 73
CHAPTER VI.
Volunteering--Farther Promotion--Embarks for Portugal, with two
Companies of the Second Battalion--Debark at Cadiz--Advance to
the Isla--The French occupy all the adjacent Towns, except
Cadiz and Isla--Cannonading--Spanish Army--Detachment of the
Allied Army sent round by Gibraltar and Chiclana, to take the
Enemy in the rear of his works, and compel him either to fight
or abandon them--Come up with a portion of the Enemy in the
vicinity of Veger--Bravery of the British--The Enemy repulsed
with great loss, but, from the apathy and misconduct of General
La Pena, and the Spaniards under his command, the French are
allowed to retain their Works in the vicinity of Cadiz, 99
CHAPTER VII.
The 2d Battalion of the Pompadours ordered to proceed to
Portugal--Our Author visits England--Returns to Portugal, and
joins his Regiment at Rodrigo--The Army move towards
Badajos--Siege of Badajos--Badajos surrenders--Insubordination
among the Troops--Quelled by the prompt measures of Lord
Wellington, 128
CHAPTER VIII.
The Army leave Badajos on the 11th of April, and move into
quarters near the river Agueda, where they remain, till the
11th of June--Advance towards Salamanca, which, with the
exception of three Forts, the enemy had evacuated--The Forts
invested--The main bodies of both armies bivouack within a mile
and a half of each other, in the vicinity of Monte Rubio and
Morisco--The Forts of Salamanca surrender--The main body of the
Enemy retire to Tordesillas--Movements of the Army, 153
CHAPTER IX.
Preparations for the Field--Amusements in winter
quarters--Grand Review--Advance of the Army in pursuit of the
Enemy--Come up with their rearguard in the vicinity of Hornilla
de Camino--Skirmishing--Encounter with the 1st Brigade of the
Enemy, who are beaten, and forced to retreat--Our Army advance
in pursuit--An affair between the rearguard of the Enemy and
our 4th Brigade--Vittoria--General Engagement--The Enemy
defeated--Remarks, 185
CHAPTER X.
Advance in pursuit of the Enemy--Our Forces retreat, in order
to counteract Soult's movements for the succour of
Pamplona--Total defeat of Soult in the several Actions near
Pamplona--Our Forces again advance--Come up with the retreating
Enemy at the Bridge of Yanzi--The Enemy take up a position,
behind Vera--A considerable body of the Enemy attached at the
Pass of Echallar, and forced to retreat, 214
CHAPTER XI.
The Author, from a mistake, loses his Servants for a few
days--A Feast of Death--A Feast of Life--Fighting near St
Sebastian--Singular instance of Spanish Bravery--St Sebastian
is captured, but no Details given, the Author not having been
present--Attack of the Pass of Vera, 232
CHAPTER XII.
The British Army advance farther into France--Pass the
Nive--Soult's Plans baffled--Two or three battalions of the
Nassau and Frankfort regiments come over from the
French--French Politesse--Threatened Attack by the
French--Battle of the Nive--Account of the Basques, 253
CHAPTER XIII.
The Author's Battalion quartered in Aurantz on 3d January
1814--The cantonments at Aurantz broke up on the 16th February,
and the Campaign of 1814 commenced--Farther Advance into
France--Skirmishing with the Enemy--Military Manoeuvres--Battle
of Orthes--Defeat and Pursuit of the Enemy--Succession of
Attacks on them--They are driven from their Position in and
near Tarbes--Skirmishing at Tournefoile--The Enemy retire
towards Toulouse, 269
CHAPTER XIV.
The British Army cross the Garonne--Advance on
Toulouse--Prepare for the Attack--The Attack--Spaniards driven
back--Battle very hot--French completely defeated--Soult
evacuates Toulouse, and tardily adheres to the Bourbons, 295
CHAPTER XV.
Author's happy state during 1813 and 1814--Character of the
veritable French--British distributed over the
Country--Civility of the Inhabitants of Grissolles--Amusements
in quarters--The British prepare to quit France, 308
CHAPTER XVI.
Author's Battalion embark for England--Land at Plymouth--Expect
to be again ordered on Foreign Service--Order received--Embark,
with other Troops, for America--Land at Pine Island, 322
CHAPTER XVII.
Proceed to attack the Enemy, and capture one of their
picquets--Advance in search of a Bivouack--Alarmed by shots in
front--Fired on by an American schooner--Captain Hallen
severely attacked--Manoeuvres on both sides--Ruse of the
Enemy--Fighting continues--Enemy repulsed at all
points--Courage of the British--Battery brought into
play--Activity of the Enemy, 339
CHAPTER XVIII.
British Army told off into Brigades--Advance, and are hotly
received--Heroism of a young Artillery Officer--We take up a
fresh position--The Enemy work incessantly in raising an
extensive breastwork--Two Batteries erected, from which our
heavy Ship Artillery are brought to bear against it, but
without effect--The Enemy also place their Ship Guns on
Batteries--Colonel Lambert arrives with the 7th and 43d
regiments--Preparations for a grand attack on the Enemy's
lines, which entirely fails, and the British are repulsed with
great loss, 357
CHAPTER XIX.
Bravery and Success of Colonel Thornton--Negotiation for leave
to transport the Wounded across the River--Insult offered to
the British--They retreat--Our Army embark, and determine to
make an Attack upon Mobile--Proceed in the direction of Mobile
Bay--A Brigade detached to reduce Fort Boyer--The Fort
surrenders, the garrison becoming Prisoners of
War--Intelligence of a Treaty of Peace being concluded at
Ghent--Cessation of Hostilities, 378
CHAPTER XX.
Ratification of the Treaty of Peace--Exchange of Prisoners--Our
Troops Embark for England--When off the coast of Ireland,
receive Intelligence of Bonaparte's escape from Elba--The
Author and his Battalion reach the Downs, and proceed to
Thorncliffe--Embark for France--Arrive at Paris, and occupy the
Champs Elysees--Review of the Russian Guards--Russian
Discipline--British Troops reviewed--Accident to Prince
Blucher--Amusements in Paris--The Allied Forces, except the
Army of Occupation, leave Paris--The Author's Battalion embark
for England--Reach Dover, and return to Thorncliffe--He obtains
leave of absence, and visits his Family--His Battalion ordered
to Ireland--Sets out to join it, accompanied by his Wife, who
dies three days after they reach Dublin--His Battalion
reduced--Joins the first Battalion at Gosport, which is ordered
to Scotland--Arrive at Leith, and march to Glasgow--The Author
returns home in ill health--His Father dies--Joins his
Battalion again--Winters at home--His Battalion ordered to
Ireland--Joins it at Belfast--They occupy different stations
during the Whiteboy Insurrection--Six companies of his
Battalion ordered to Nova Scotia, but the Author remains with
the other four companies--He is shortly ordered to proceed to
Nova Scotia--His health declines--Returns home in consequence,
takes advantage of Lord Palmerston's Bill, and retires on full
pay, 401
APPENDIX.--TESTIMONIALS.--No. 1. From Lieutenant-Colonel
Duffy--No. 2. From Major Travers--No. 3. From Officers of the
2d Battalion--No. 4. From Lieut.-Colonel Ross, C.B.--No. 5.
From Lieut.-Col. Smith, C.B.--No. 6. From Officers of the 1st
Battalion Rifle Brigade--No. 7. From Colonel Norcott, C.B.--No.
8. From Lieut.-Col. Fullarton, C.B.--No. 9. From Lieut.-Col.
Balvaird--No. 10. From Major-General Sir A. F. Barnard,
K.C.B.--No. 11. From Major Logan--No. 12. From Lieut.-Col.
Beckwith, C.B.--No. 13. From Lieut.-General the Hon. Sir Wm.
Stewart, G.C.B.--No. 14. From Major Eeles--No. 15. From
Major-General Sir T. S. Beckwith, K.C.B., 425
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE RIFLE BRIGADE.
CHAPTER I.
Birth and Parentage--Enters the Militia--Volunteers into the
Line--Joins the Army destined for Holland--The Troops embark at
Deal--Land at the Helder--Laxity of discipline--March for
Schagen--Detachment under Sir Ralph Abercromby sent to surprise
Hoorne--Hoorne surrenders.
I was born on the 4th of August, 1781, in the village of Corbridge, in
the county of Northumberland; of parents who may be said to have been
among the middle classes, my father being a tradesman. They gave me such
an education as was customary with people of their station in life; viz.
reading, writing, and arithmetic. My mother having sprung from a pious
race, was the first to implant in my mind any sense of religion; indeed,
it is to the spiritual seed sown in my heart by her during my youth,
that I am indebted, under God, for having been brought, many years
afterwards, to consider my ways, and to turn to Him. Nevertheless, being
naturally of a sensual and wicked disposition, I, as might be expected,
spent a dissolute youth, which often caused great pain and uneasiness to
my good and pious mother. But I did not continue long under the paternal
roof; for, having from my infancy a great predilection for a military
life, I embraced almost the first opportunity that offered, after I
became sufficiently grown, to enter into the militia of my native
county. I enlisted on the 15th of November, 1798, being then little more
than seventeen years of age. I entered this service with the
determination that, should I not like a soldier's life, I would then,
after remaining a few years in it, return home; but, if I did like it,
to volunteer into the line, and make that my occupation for life. It
will readily be believed that this undutiful step affected deeply my
excellent parents; for though my father was not _then_ a religious man,
he had a heart susceptible of the tenderest feelings; and I really
believe that no parents ever felt more deeply the combined emotions of
tender regret
| 731.961892 | 3,535 |
2023-11-16 18:27:58.7296860
| 1,151 | 411 |
Produced by David Reed and Dale R. Fredrickson
HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE
Edward Gibbon, Esq.
With notes by the Rev. H. H. Milman
Volume 1
1782 (Written), 1845 (Revised)
CONTENTS:
Introduction
Preface By The Editor
Preface Of The Author
Preface To The First Volume
Chapter I: The Extent Of The Empire In The Age Of The Antoninies.--Part
I. Part II. Part III.
Introduction--The Extent And Military Force Of The Empire In The Age Of
The Antonines.
Chapter II: The Internal Prosperity In The Age Of The Antonines.--Part I.
Part II. Part III. Part IV.
Of The Union And Internal Prosperity Of The Roman Empire, In The Age Of
The Antonines.
Chapter III: The Constitution In The Age Of The Antonines.--Part I.
Part II.
Of The Constitution Of The Roman Empire, In The Age Of The Antonines.
Chapter IV: The Cruelty, Follies And Murder Of Commodus.--Part I. Part
II.
The Cruelty, Follies, And Murder Of Commodus. Election Of Pertinax--His
Attempts To Reform The State--His Assassination By The Praetorian Guards.
Chapter V: Sale Of The Empire To Didius Julianus.--Part I. Part II.
Public Sale Of The Empire To Didius Julianus By The Praetorian
Guards--Clodius Albinus In Britain, Pescennius Niger In Syria, And
Septimius Severus In Pannonia, Declare Against The Murderers Of
Pertinax--Civil Wars And Victory Of Severus Over His Three
Rivals--Relaxation Of Discipline--New Maxims Of Government.
Chapter VI: Death Of Severus, Tyranny Of Caracalla, Usurpation Of
Marcinus.--Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV.
The Death Of Severus.--Tyranny Of Caracalla.--Usurpation Of
Macrinus.--Follies Of Elagabalus.--Virtues Of Alexander
Severus.--Licentiousness Of The Army.--General State Of The Roman
Finances.
Chapter VII: Tyranny Of Maximin, Rebellion, Civil Wars, Death Of
Maximin.--Part I. Part II. Part III.
The Elevation And Tyranny Of Maximin.--Rebellion In Africa And Italy,
Under The Authority Of The Senate.--Civil Wars And Seditions.--Violent
Deaths Of Maximin And His Son, Of Maximus And Balbinus, And Of The Three
Gordians.--Usurpation And Secular Games Of Philip.
Chapter VIII: State Of Persion And Restoration Of The Monarchy.--Part I.
Part II.
Of The State Of Persia After The Restoration Of The Monarchy By
Artaxerxes.
Chapter IX: State Of Germany Until The Barbarians.--Part I. Part II.
Part III.
The State Of Germany Till The Invasion Of The Barbarians In The Time Of
The Emperor Decius.
Chapter X: Emperors Decius, Gallus, AEmilianus, Valerian And
Gallienus.--Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV.
The Emperors Decius, Gallus, AEmilianus, Valerian, And Gallienus.--The
General Irruption Of The Barbari Ans.--The Thirty Tyrants.
Chapter XI: Reign Of Claudius, Defeat Of The Goths.--Part I. Part II.
Part III.
Reign Of Claudius.--Defeat Of The Goths.--Victories, Triumph, And Death Of
Aurelian.
Chapter XII: Reigns Of Tacitus, Probus, Carus And His Sons.--Part I.
Part II. Part III.
Conduct Of The Army And Senate After The Death Of Aurelian.-- Reigns Of
Tacitus, Probus, Carus, And His Sons.
Chapter XIII: Reign Of Diocletian And This Three Associates.--Part I.
Part II. Part III. Part IV.
The Reign Of Diocletian And His Three Associates, Maximian, Galerius,
And Constantius.--General Reestablishment Of Order And Tranquillity.--The
Persian War, Victory, And Triumph.-- The New Form Of
Administration.--Abdication And Retirement Of Diocletian And Maximian.
Chapter XIV: Six Emperors At The Same Time, Reunion Of The Empire.--Part
I. Part II. Part III. Part IV.
Troubles After The Abdication Of Diocletian.--Death Of
Constantius.--Elevation Of Constantine And Maxen Tius. - Six Emperors At
The Same Time.--Death Of Maximian And Galerius. --Victories Of Constantine
Over Maxentius And Licinus.-- Reunion Of The Empire Under The Authority
Of Constantine.
Chapter XV: Progress Of The Christian Religion.--Part I. Part II.
Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI. Part VII. Part VIII.
Part IX.
The Progress Of The Christian Religion, And The Sentiments, Manners,
Numbers, And Condition Of The Primitive Christians.
Introduction
Preface By The Editor.
The great
| 732.049096 | 3,536 |
2023-11-16 18:27:58.7862970
| 1,075 | 56 |
Produced by Al Haines
SONNETS
AND OTHER VERSE
BY
W. M. MacKERACHER
Author of "Canada, My Land"
TORONTO
WILLIAM BRIGGS
1909
Copyright, Canada, 1909, by
W. M. MacKERACHER.
CONTENTS.
The Old and The New
How Many a Man!
The Saddest Thought
The House-Hunter
On Moving Into a New House
Literature
A Library
On Charles Lamb's Sonnet, "Work."
Work
The Joy of Creation
Adam
A Shallow Stream
A Faithful Preacher
A Wish Rebuked
The Sabbath
Milton
The Three Hundredth Anniversary of Milton's Birth
Burns
A Late Spring
Autumn
An Autumn Walk
November
November Sunshine
Short Days
The Beginning of Winter
The Winter and the Wilderness
The Immigrants
Wolfe
Montcalm
The Coming of Champlain
The Montagnais at Tadoussac
Champlain's First Winter and Spring in Quebec
Idleness
Success
The Exclusion of Asiatics
The People's Response to Heroism
An Aristocrat
In Warehouse and Office
H.M.S. "Dreadnought"
The Revolution in Russia
Tea's Apologia
A Wish
Alone with Nature
The Works of Man and the Works of Nature
A Day Redeemed
Outremont
The New Old Story
Recreation
Paestum
Rondeau: An April Day
Autumn
My Two Boys
My Old Classical Master
The Gold-Miners of British Columbia
War-ships in Port
On Finding a Copy of Burns's Poems in the House of an Ontario Farmer
The Ideal Preacher
The Wheel of Misfortune
Tim O'Gallagher
SONNETS AND OTHER VERSE.
THE OLD AND THE NEW.
Scorn not the Old; 'twas sacred in its day,
A truth overpowering error with its might,
A light dispelling darkness with its ray,
A victory won, an intermediate height,
Which seers untrammel'd by their creeds of yore,
Heroes and saints, triumphantly attained
With hard assail and tribulation sore,
That we might use the vantage-ground they gain'd.
Scorn not the Old; but hail and seize the New
With thrill'd intelligences, hearts that burn,
And such truth-seeking spirits that it, too,
May soon be superseded in its turn,
And men may ever, as the ages roll,
March onward toward the still receding goal.
HOW MANY A MAN!
How many a man of those I see around
Has cherished fair ideals in his youth,
And heard the spirit's call, and stood spellbound
Before the shrine of Beauty or of Truth,
And lived to see his fair ideals fade,
And feel a numbness creep upon his soul,
And sadly know himself no longer swayed
By rigorous Truth or Beauty's sweet control!
For some, alas! life's thread is almost spun;
Few, few and poor, the fibres that remain;
But yet, while life lasts, something may be done
To make the heavenly vision not in vain;
Yet, even yet, some triumph may be won,
Yea, loss itself be turned to precious gain.
THE SADDEST THOUGHT.
Sad is the wane of beauty to the fair,
Sad is the flux of fortune to the proud,
Sad is the look dejected lovers wear,
And sad is worth beneath detraction's cloud.
Sad is our youth's inexorable end,
Sad is the bankruptcy of fancy's wealth,
Sad is the last departure of a friend,
And sadder than most things is loss of health.
And yet more sad than these to think upon
Is this--the saddest thought beneath the sun--
Life, flowing like a river, almost gone
Into eternity, and nothing done.
Let me be spared that bootless last regret:
Let me work now; I may do something yet.
THE HOUSE-HUNTER.
As one who finds his house no longer fit,
Too narrow for his needs, in nothing right,
Wanting in every homelike requisite,
Devoid of beauty, barren of delight,
Goes forth from door to door and street to street,
With eager-eyed expectancy to find
A new abode for his convenience meet,
Spacious, commodious, fair, and to his mind;
So living souls recurrently outgrow
Their mental tenements; their tastes appear
Too sordid, and their aims too cramped and low.
And they keep moving onward year by year,
Each dwelling
| 732.105707 | 3,537 |
2023-11-16 18:27:59.4323070
| 1,092 | 499 |
Produced by ellinora 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
Obvious typos and punctuation errors corrected. Variations in spelling
and hyphenation retained.
A small floral decoration appears in most page headers in the original.
This decoration has been preserved in the html and ebook versions at
the end of chapters. It has not been preserved in the text version.
An illustration in the front matter of a prison door with bars
surrounding the book title has been replicated in the text with ascii
art.
Italic text is represented by underscores surrounding the _italic
text_.
Small capitals in the original have been converted to ALL CAPS in the
text.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+
| | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
| |
| _The Room |
| with the |
| Little Door_ |
| |
| | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
| | | | | | | |
+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_The Room with the
Little Door_
_By_
_Roland Burnham Molineux_
[Illustration]
_G. W. Dillingham Company_
_Publishers_ _New York_
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY
ROLAND
BURNHAM MOLINEUX
_All Rights Reserved_
_Entered at
Stationers Hall_
ISSUED JANUARY, 1903
_The Room with the
Little Door_
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_To
My Father
General Edward
Leslie Molineux
With
Reverence_
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_CONTENTS_
CHAPTER PAGE
_Introduction_ _17_
_I._ _The Room with the Little Door_ _19_
_II._ _The Little Dead Mouse_ _26_
_III._ _A Forbidden Song_ _30_
_IV._ _The Murderers’ Home Journal_ _34_
_V._ _Fads_ _54_
_VI._ _The Mayor of the Death-Chamber_ _62_
_VII._ _A Psychological Experiment_ _67_
_VIII._ _Me and Mike_ _79_
_IX._ _Old John_ _82_
_X._ _Her Friend_ _94_
_XI._ _Life_ _97_
_XII._ _My Friend the Major_ _99_
_XIII._ _A Dissertation on the Third Degree_ _108_
_XIV._ _It’s Just Like Her_ _145_
_XV._ _Shorty_ _158_
_XVI._ _An Opinion on Expert Opinion_ _180_
_XVII._ _Prologue to a Little Comedy_ _195_
_XVIII._ _Impressions: The Last Night and The _197_
Next Morning_
_XIX._ _Impressions: Dawn in the Death-Chamber_ _208_
_XX._ _Impressions: While the Jury is Out_ _211_
_XXI._ _Impressions: The Friendship of _234_
Imagination_
_XXII._ _The Last Story_ _241_
_XXIII._ _The Story of the Ring, by Vance _243_
Thompson_
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_Introduction_
Most of the following is true, or founded on truth. A few are
waifs—products of my imagination; little stories that came into my mind
from time to time. Some of them are from letters written home while I
was confined in the Tombs Prison in New York City, and in the
Death-Chamber at Sing Sing.
In them I have not inflicted myself to any great extent upon the reader.
Herein is chiefly what I saw when trying to look upon the bright side.
There are also glimpses of the side which cannot be made bright, look at
it as one may.
But if anything in these pages leads some one to think of what must be
endured in either place, let me say
| 732.751717 | 3,538 |
2023-11-16 18:27:59.4335710
| 973 | 414 |
Produced by Annie McGuire and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
**********************************************************
Transcriber's Note: Inconsistencies in spelling have
been retained. In particular, some words are used
with accents in the index, but not in the main body.
**********************************************************
365 Luncheon Dishes
A Luncheon Dish for every day
in the year
Selected from
MARION HARLAND, CHRISTINE TERHUNE
HERRICK, BOSTON COOKING SCHOOL
MAGAZINE, TABLE TALK, GOOD HOUSEKEEPING,
AND OTHERS.
[Illustration: Publisher's Logo]
PHILADELPHIA
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1902, by
George W. Jacobs & Company,
_Published September, 1902_
JANUARY.
1.--Stewed Breast of Lamb.
Cut a breast of lamb into small pieces, season, and stew until tender in
enough gravy to cover the meat. Thicken the sauce, flavor with a
wine-glass of wine, pile in the centre of a platter and garnish with
green peas.
2.--Chicken Creams.
Chop and pound 1/2 a lb. of chicken and 3 ozs. of ham; pass this through
a sieve, add 1 oz. of melted butter, 2 well-beaten eggs, and 1/2 a pint
of cream, which must be whipped; season with pepper and salt. Mix all
lightly together, put into oiled moulds and steam fifteen minutes, or if
in one large mould half an hour.
3.--Herring's Roes on Toast.
Have rounds of toast buttered and seasoned with salt and pepper, on each
piece place 1/2 the soft roe of a herring which has been slightly fried
and on the top of this a fried mushroom. Serve very hot.
4.--French Omelet.
For a very small omelet beat 2 whole eggs and the yokes of two more
until a full spoonful can be taken up. Add 3 tablespoonfuls of water,
1/4 of a teaspoonful of salt, and a dash of pepper, and when well mixed
turn into a hot omelet pan, in which a tablespoonful of butter has been
melted, lift the edges up carefully and let the uncooked part run under.
When all is cooked garnish with parsley.
5.--Cheese Ramequins.
Melt 1 oz. of butter, mix with 1/2 oz. of flour, add 1/4 of a pint of
milk, stir and cook well. Then beat in the yolks of two eggs, sprinkle
in 3 ozs. of grated cheese, add the well-beaten whites of three eggs.
Mix in lightly and put in cases. Bake a quarter of an hour.
6.--Scotch Collops.
Cut cold roast veal into thin slices, and dust over them a little mace,
nutmeg, cayenne, and salt, and fry them in a little butter. Lay on a
dish and make a gravy by adding 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1/4 of a pint
of water, 1 teaspoonful of anchovy sauce, 1 tablespoonful of lemon
juice, 1/4 of a teaspoonful of lemon peel, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream,
and 1 of sherry. Let boil up once and pour over the meat. Garnish with
lemon and parsley.
7.--Orange Salad.
Slice 3 sweet oranges, after removing the skin and pith, make a dressing
with 3 tablespoonfuls of olive oil, a tablespoonful of lemon juice, and
a pinch of salt. Serve on lettuce leaves.
8.--Oyster Potpie.
Scald one quart of oysters in their own liquor. When boiling take out
the oysters and keep them hot. Stir together a tablespoonful of butter
and two of flour, and moisten with cold milk. Add two small cups of
boiling water to the oyster liquor, season with salt and pepper, and
stir in the flour mixture, and let it cook until it thickens like cream.
Make a light biscuit dough and cut out with a thimble. Drop these into
the boiling mixture, cover the saucepan and cook
| 732.752981 | 3,539 |
2023-11-16 18:27:59.8040710
| 394 | 55 |
Produced by Steffen Haugk
[Illustration: CAPTAIN THOMAS SAVERY, The inventor of the steam engine - see frontispiece.gif]
THE
MINER'S FRIEND;
OR,
~An Engine~
TO
RAISE WATER BY FIRE,
DESCRIBED.
AND OF THE MANNER OF FIXING IT IN MINES;
WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE SEVERAL OTHER USES IT
IS APPLICABLE UNTO; AND AN
ANSWER TO THE OBJECTIONS MADE AGAINST IT.
BY
THOMAS SAVERY, Gent.
Pigri est ingenii contentum esse his, quae ab aliis inventa sunt.
SENECA.
LONDON: PRINETD FOR S. CROUCH, AT THE CORNER
OF POPE'S HEAD-ALLEY IN CORNHILL. 1702.
Reprinted, 1827.
LONDON:
Printed by W. Clowes.
Stanford-street
TO THE KING.
SIR,
Your Majesty having been graciously pleased to permit an experiment
before you at Hampton-court, of a small model of my engine described
in the following treatise, and at that time to show a seeming
satisfaction of the power and use of it; and having most graciously
enabled me, by your royal assent to a patent and act of parliament, to
pursue and perfect the same. By which your royal encouragement, it
being now fully completed, and put in practice in your dominions with
that repeated success and applause, that it is not to be doubted but
it will be of universal benefit and use to all your Majesty's
subjects. Of whom, your Majesty being the universal patron and father,
all arts and inventions that may promote their good and advantage,
seem to lay a just and natural claim to your Majesty's sacred
protection.
It
| 733.123481 | 3,540 |
2023-11-16 18:28:00.0099810
| 4,080 | 47 |
Produced by Curtis Weyant, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
MARCHING ON NIAGARA
OR THE SOLDIER BOYS OF THE OLD FRONTIER
Colonial Series
BY EDWARD STRATEMEYER
Author of "American Boys' Life of William McKinley," "Lost on the
Orinoco," "On to Pekin," "Between Boer and Briton," "Old Glory Series,"
"Ship and Shore Series," "Bound to Succeed Series," etc.
_ILLUSTRATED BY A. B. SHUTE_
BOSTON:
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY LEE AND SHEPARD
Published August, 1902
_All rights reserved_
Norwood Press
J. S. CUSHING & CO.--BERWICK & SMITH
Norwood, Mass. U. S. A.
[Illustration: After him tumbled a wild cat.]
PREFACE
"MARCHING ON NIAGARA" is a complete story in itself, but forms the
second of several volumes to be known by the general title of "Colonial
Series."
In the first volume of this series, entitled "WITH WASHINGTON IN THE
WEST," we followed the fortunes of David Morris, the son of a hardy
pioneer, who first settled at Will's Creek (now the town of Cumberland,
Virginia), and later on established a trading post on one of the
tributaries of the Ohio River. This was just previous to the breaking
out of war between France and England, and when the French and English
settlers in America, especially in those localities where trading with
the Indians was profitable, were bitter foes. David becomes well
acquainted with Washington while the latter is a surveyor, and when
Braddock arrives in America and marches against Fort Duquesne the young
pioneer shoulders a musket and joins the Virginia Rangers under Major
Washington, to march forth and take part in Braddock's bitter defeat
and Washington's masterly effort to save the remnant of the army from
total annihilation.
The defeat of the British forces left this section of the English
colonies at the mercy of both the French and their savage Indian allies,
and for two years, despite all that Washington and other colonial
leaders could do, every isolated cabin and every small settlement west
of Winchester was in constant danger, and numerous raids were made,
savage and brutal in the extreme, and these were kept up until the
arrival of General Forbes, who, aided by Washington and others, finally
compelled the French to abandon Fort Duquesne, and thus restored peace
and order to a frontier covering a distance of several hundred miles.
Following General Forbes's success at Fort Duquesne (now the
enterprising city of Pittsburg), came English successes in other
quarters, not the least of which was the capture of Fort Niagara,
standing on the east bank of the Niagara River, where that stream flows
into Lake Ontario. This fort was of vast importance to the French, for
it guarded the way through the lakes and down the mighty Mississippi to
their Louisiana territory. In the expedition against Fort Niagara both
David and Henry Morris take an active part, and as brave young soldiers
endeavor to do their duty fully and fearlessly.
In the preparation of the historical portions of this work the author
has endeavored to be as accurate as possible. This has been no easy
task, for upon many points American, English, and French historians have
differed greatly in their statements. However, it is hoped that the tale
is at least as accurate as the average history, giving as it does
statements from all sides.
Again thanking the many readers who have taken such an interest in my
previous works, I place this volume in their hands, trusting they will
find it not only entertaining but likewise full of instruction and
inspiration.
EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
_Independence Day, 1902._
CONTENTS
I. IN THE FOREST
II. DEER AND INDIANS
III. DISCOVERY AND PURSUIT
IV. BURNING OF THE CABIN
V. UPRISING OF THE INDIANS
VI. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HENRY
VII. A DOUBLE WARNING
VIII. DEPARTURE FROM HOME
IX. GATHERING AT FORT LAWRENCE
X. HOW HENRY FARED
XI. SAM BARRINGFORD'S RUSE
XII. DARK YEAR OF THE WAR
XIII. FIGHTING OFF THE INDIANS
XIV. RETREAT OF THE PIONEERS
XV. DISAPPEARANCE OF LITTLE NELL
XVI. BACK TO WINCHESTER
XVII. A NEW CAMPAIGN
XVIII. WILDCAT AND WATER
XIX. DEFEAT OF THE ENGLISH
XX. AT FORT PITT--RETURN HOME
XXI. ON THE WAY TO THE ARMY
XXII. THE FIGHT WITH THE BUCK
XXIII. UP THE MOHAWK VALLEY
XXIV. HENRY IS ATTACKED
XXV. A STORM ON LAKE ONTARIO
XXVI. THE ATTACK AT OSWEGO
XXVII. NEWS OF IMPORTANCE
XXVIII. SOMETHING ABOUT FORT NIAGARA
XXIX. THE BATTLE NEAR THE FALLS
XXX. INTO THE NIAGARA RAPIDS
XXXI. FALL OF FORT NIAGARA
XXXII. LITTLE NELL--CONCLUSION
ILLUSTRATIONS
After him tumbled a wildcat
They could see the cabin, which still blazed
The warrior with the torch held the light aloft
"White Buffalo, my brother, has done well to bring this message so
quickly."
He took a quick but careful aim at the leader
He leaped forward once again, straight for Dave
"Bail her out," roared the lieutenant
He swung his clubbed musket at the French soldier's head
CHAPTER I
IN THE FOREST
"Do you think we'll bag a deer to-day, Henry?"
"I'll tell you better about that when we are on our way home, Dave. I
certainly saw the hoof-prints down by the salt lick this morning. That
proves they can't be far off. My idea is that at least three deer are
just beyond the lower creek, although I may be mistaken."
"I'd like to get a shot at 'em. I haven't brought down a deer since we
left the army."
"Well, I reckon we had shooting enough in the army to last us for a
while," returned Henry Morris, grimly. "I know I got all I wanted, and
you got a good deal more."
"But it wasn't the right kind of shooting, Henry. I always hated to
think of firing on another human being, didn't you?"
"Oh, I didn't mind shooting at the Indians--some of 'em don't seem to be
more than half human anyway. But I must say it was different when it
came to bringing down a Frenchman with his spick and span uniform. But
the Frenchmen hadn't any right to molest us and drive your father out of
his trading post."
"I'm afraid General Braddock's defeat will cause us lots of trouble in
the future. Mr. Risley was telling me that he had heard the Indians over
at Plum Valley were as impudent as they could be. He said half a dozen
of 'em made a settler named Hochstein give 'em all they wanted to eat
and drink, and when the German found fault they flourished their
tomahawks and told him all the settlers but the French were squaws and
that he had better shut up or they'd scalp him and burn down his cabin."
"Yes, Sam Barringford was telling something about that, too, and he said
he wouldn't be surprised to hear of an Indian uprising at any time. You
see, the French are backing the redskins up in everything and that makes
them bold. If I had my way, I'd get Colonel Washington to raise an army
of three or four thousand men--the best frontiersmen to be found--and
I'd chase every impudent Frenchman out of the country. We won't have
peace till that is done, mark my words on it," concluded Henry Morris,
emphatically.
David and Henry Morris were cousins, living with their folks on a
clearing not far from what was then known as Will's Creek, now the town
of Cumberland, Virginia. The two families consisted of Dave and his
father, Mr. James Morris, who was a widower, and Mr. Joseph Morris, his
wife Lucy, and three children, Rodney, the oldest, who was something of
a <DW36>, Henry, who has just been introduced, and little Nell, the
sunshine of the whole home.
In a former volume of this series, entitled "With Washington in the
West," I related the particulars of how the two Morris families settled
at Will's Creek, and how James Morris, after the loss of his wife,
wandered westward, and established a trading-post on the Kinotah, one of
the numerous branches of the Ohio River. In the meantime Dave, his son,
fell in with George Washington, when the future President was a
surveyor, and the youth helped to survey many tracts of land in the
beautiful Shenandoah valley.
At this time the colonies of England and of France in America were
having a great deal of trouble between themselves and with the Indians.
Briefly stated, both England and France claimed all the territory
drained by the Ohio and other nearby rivers, and the French sought in
every possible way to drive out English traders who pushed westward.
The driving out of the English traders soon brought trouble to James
Morris, and after being attacked by a band of Indians he was served
with a notice from the French to quit his trading-post in three months'
time or less. Unwilling to give up a profitable business, and half
suspecting that the notice was the concoction of a rascally French
trader named Jean Bevoir, and not an official document, Mr. Morris sent
Dave back to Winchester, that they might get the advice of Colonel
Washington and other officials as to what was best to do.
When Dave arrived home he found that there was practically a state of
war between the French and English. Washington was preparing to march
against the enemy, and to get back to the trading post unaided was for
the youth out of the question. Such being the case, Dave joined the
Virginia Rangers under Washington, and with him went his cousin Henry,
and both fought bravely at the defense of Fort Necessity, where Henry
was badly wounded.
The defeat of the English at Fort Necessity was followed by bitter news
for the Morrises. Sam Barringford, a well-known old trapper of that
locality, and a great friend to the boys, came in one day badly used up
and with the information that the trading-post had fallen under the
combined attack of some French led by Jean Bevoir and some Indians led
by a rascal named Fox Head, who was Bevoir's tool. James Morris had
been taken prisoner and what had become of the trader Barringford could
not tell.
Poor Dave, cut to the heart, was for looking for his father at once, and
his relatives and Sam Barringford were equally eager. But the
trading-post was miles away--through the dense forest and over the wild
mountains--and the territory was now in the hands of the enemy. Under
such circumstances all had to wait throughout the severe winter and
following spring, a time that to the boy seemed an age.
General Braddock had been sent over from England to take charge of
affairs against the French, and soon an expedition was organized having
for its object the reduction of Fort Duquesne, which was built where the
city of Pittsburg now stands. The expedition was composed of English
grenadiers brought over by Braddock and several hundred Virginia
Rangers, under Washington. With the rangers were Dave and Barringford.
Henry wished to go, but was still too weak, and it was felt that Joseph
Morris could not be spared from the homestead.
Braddock's bitter defeat in the vicinity of Fort Duquesne came as a
great shock to all of the English colonies, and it was only by Colonel
Washington's tact and gallantry, and the bravery of the rangers under
him, that the retreating army was saved from total annihilation or
capture. During this battle Dave was shot and captured, but his enemies
soon after abandoned him in the woods, and while wandering around, more
dead than alive he fell in with White Buffalo, a friendly Indian chief,
and, later on, with Barringford and with his father, who had been a
prisoner of the French since the fall of the trading post.
The home-coming of Dave and his father was viewed with great
satisfaction by Joseph Morris and his family, who did all in their power
to make the two sufferers comfortable. From Mr. Morris it was learned
that the pelts stored at the trading post had been saved through the
kindness of another English trader, so that the Frenchman, Jean Bevoir,
and his Indian tool, Fox Head, had not gained much by the raid.
"I am certain that the raid was not the work of the French authorities,"
said James Morris. "But now the war is on they will of course stand up
for everything Jean Bevoir and his followers have done. Nevertheless, I
hold to it that the trading post, and the land staked out around it, is
mine, and some day I shall lay claim to it."
"Right you are, brother," came from Joseph Morris. "And, so far as I am
able, I will stand by you in the claim. But I am fearful that matters
will be much worse before they are better."
"Oh, there's no doubt of that. This victory will make the French think
they can walk right over us."
"Yes, and it will do more," put in Rodney, who was now a young man in
years. "Many Indians have been wavering between taking sides with us or
the enemy. Now many of these will stake fortunes with the
victors,--that's the usual way." He stretched himself on his chair and
gave a sigh. "I wish I was a little stronger, I'd join the army and
fight 'em."
"We haven't any army to speak of now," resumed James Morris. "When I was
last down at Winchester Colonel Washington had but a handful of
soldiers,--all the rest having gone home to attend to their farms and
plantations--and over at Will's Creek fort it was no better. The pay
offered to the soldiers is so poor nobody cares to stay in the ranks.
Patriotism seems to be at a low ebb."
"It's not such a lack of patriotism," said Joseph Morris. "None of our
home soldiers liked the ways of the troops from England, and it made
them mad to have their officers pushed down and Braddock's underlings
pushed up. Even Washington had to remonstrate, although they tell me he
was willing to fight no matter what position they gave him. And matters
are going no better in the North. Either England and our colonies must
wake up, or, ere we know it, all will be lost to the French and their
Indian allies."
"What of the Indians?" put in Mrs. Morris. "Have those under White
Buffalo gone over to the French?"
"White Buffalo's braves have not," answered her husband. "But the tribe
is badly split up, and White Buffalo himself is nearly crazy over the
matter. He says some of the old chiefs swear by the French while the
younger warriors all cling to Washington. White Buffalo says that he
himself will never lift a tomahawk against the English--and I feel
certain he means it."
"White Buffalo is a real nice Indian," came from little Nell, who sat on
the door-step playing. "Didn't he make me this doll? If they were all as
good as he is I wouldn't be afraid a bit." And she hugged to her breast
the crude wooden figure, the "heap big pappoose" with which White
Buffalo had gained her childish confidence.
"Nor would I be afraid," came from Mrs. Morris. "But all Indians are not
as kind and true as White Buffalo, and if they should ever go on the
war-path and move this way--" She did not finish, but shook her head
sadly.
"If they should come this way we will do our best to fight them off,"
said James Morris. "But let us hope it will never come to that. The
butchery at the trading post was enough, I should not wish to see such
doings around our homestead."
CHAPTER II
DEER AND INDIANS
Dave and Henry had left home an hour before, hoping to bring back with
them at least one deer if not two. Henry was a great hunter, having
brought down many a bird on the wing and squirrel on the run, and he
knew that if he could only get a fair sight at a deer the game would be
his. As old readers know, Dave was likewise a good shot, so it was
likely that the youths would bring back something if any game showed
itself.
It was a cool, clear day, with just a touch of snow on the ground, ideal
weather for hunting, and as the boys pushed on each felt in excellent
spirits despite the talk about the Indians. So far as they knew there
was no Indian settlement within miles of them nor were there any
wandering redskins within half a day's journey.
"Hullo, there go half a dozen rabbits!" cried Dave, presently, and
pointed through a little clearing to their left.
"Don't shoot!" cried his cousin, although Dave had not raised his
flint-lock musket. "If you do you'll scare the deer sure--if they are
within hearing."
"I wasn't going to shoot, Henry. But just look at the beggars, sitting
up and looking at us! I reckon they know they are safe."
"Since the fighting with the French there hasn't been much hunting
through here, and so the game is quite tame. But they won't sit
long--there they go now. Come."
The pair resumed their journey through the forest, Henry leading the
way, for he had been over this trail several times before. Birds were
numerous, and they could have filled their canvas bag with ease, had
they felt inclined. But the minds of both were on the deer, and to Henry
at least it
| 733.329391 | 3,541 |
2023-11-16 18:28:00.2474760
| 428 | 79 |
OF HUMAN BONDAGE
BY
W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM
I
The day broke gray and dull. The clouds hung heavily, and there was a
rawness in the air that suggested snow. A woman servant came into a room
in which a child was sleeping and drew the curtains. She glanced
mechanically at the house opposite, a stucco house with a portico, and
went to the child's bed.
"Wake up, Philip," she said.
She pulled down the bed-clothes, took him in her arms, and carried him
downstairs. He was only half awake.
"Your mother wants you," she said.
She opened the door of a room on the floor below and took the child over
to a bed in which a woman was lying. It was his mother. She stretched out
her arms, and the child nestled by her side. He did not ask why he had
been awakened. The woman kissed his eyes, and with thin, small hands felt
the warm body through his white flannel nightgown. She pressed him closer
to herself.
"Are you sleepy, darling?" she said.
Her voice was so weak that it seemed to come already from a great
distance. The child did not answer, but smiled comfortably. He was very
happy in the large, warm bed, with those soft arms about him. He tried to
make himself smaller still as he cuddled up against his mother, and he
kissed her sleepily. In a moment he closed his eyes and was fast asleep.
The doctor came forwards and stood by the bed-side.
"Oh, don't take him away yet," she moaned.
The doctor, without answering, looked at her gravely. Knowing she would
not be allowed to keep the child much longer, the woman kissed him again;
and she passed her hand down his body till she came to his feet; she held
the right foot in her hand and felt the five small toes; and then slowly
passed her hand over the left one
| 733.566886 | 3,542 |
2023-11-16 18:28:00.8968100
| 411 | 90 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Wayne Hammond 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:
This project uses utf-8 encoded characters. If some characters are not
readable, check your settings of your browser to ensure you have a
default font installed that can display utf-8 characters.]
TRAVELS
TO DISCOVER THE
SOURCE OF THE NILE,
In the Years 1768, 1769, 1770, 1771, 1772, and 1773.
IN FIVE VOLUMES.
BY JAMES BRUCE OF KINNAIRD, ESQ. F.R.S.
[Illustration: _Heath Sc_]
VOL. III.
_Nilus in extremum fugit perterritus orbem_,
_Occuluitque caput, quod adhuc latet._----
OVID. Metam.
EDINBURGH: PRINTED BY J. RUTHVEN, FOR G. G. J. AND J. ROBINSON,
PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.
M.DCC.XC.
CONTENTS
OF THE
THIRD VOLUME.
BOOK V.
ACCOUNT OF MY JOURNEY FROM MASUAH TO GONDAR--TRANSACTIONS
THERE--MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF
THE ABYSSINIANS.
CHAP. I.
_Transactions at Masuah and Arkeeko_, 1
CHAP. II.
_Directions to Travellers for preserving Health--Diseases
of the Country--Music--Trade_, &c. _of Masuah--Conferences
with the Naybe_, 31
CHAP. III.
_Journey from Arkeeko over the Mountain Tar
| 734.21622 | 3,543 |
2023-11-16 18:28:01.1887310
| 1,167 | 549 |
Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF ST. CLOUD
By Lewis Goldsmith
Being Secret Letters from a Gentleman at Paris to a Nobleman in London
PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
The present work contains particulars of the great Napoleon not to be
found in any other publication, and forms an interesting addition to the
information generally known about him.
The writer of the Letters (whose name is said to have been Stewarton, and
who had been a friend of the Empress Josephine in her happier, if less
brilliant days) gives full accounts of the lives of nearly all Napoleon's
Ministers and Generals, in addition to those of a great number of other
characters, and an insight into the inner life of those who formed
Napoleon's Court.
All sorts and conditions of men are dealt with--adherents who have come
over from the Royalist camp, as well as those who have won their way
upwards as soldiers, as did Napoleon himself. In fact, the work abounds
with anecdotes of Napoleon, Talleyrand, Fouche, and a host of others, and
astounding particulars are given of the mysterious disappearance of those
persons who were unfortunate enough to incur the displeasure of Napoleon.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
At Cardinal Caprara's
Cardinal Fesch
Episode at Mme. Miot's
Napoleon's Guard
A Grand Dinner
Chaptal
Turreaux
Carrier
Barrere
Cambaceres
Pauline Bonaparte
SECRET COURT MEMOIRS.
THE COURT OF ST. CLOUD.
INTRODUCTORY LETTER.
PARIS, November 10th, 1805.
MY LORD,--The Letters I have written to you were intended for the private
entertainment of a liberal friend, and not for the general perusal of a
severe public. Had I imagined that their contents would have penetrated
beyond your closet or the circle of your intimate acquaintance, several
of the narratives would have been extended, while others would have been
compressed; the anecdotes would have been more numerous, and my own
remarks fewer; some portraits would have been left out, others drawn, and
all better finished. I should then have attempted more frequently to
expose meanness to contempt, and treachery to abhorrence; should have
lashed more severely incorrigible vice, and oftener held out to ridicule
puerile vanity and outrageous ambition. In short, I should then have
studied more to please than to instruct, by addressing myself seldomer to
the reason than to the passions.
I subscribe, nevertheless, to your observation, "that the late long war
and short peace, with the enslaved state of the Press on the Continent,
would occasion a chasm in the most interesting period of modern history,
did not independent and judicious travellers or visitors abroad collect
and forward to Great Britain (the last refuge of freedom) some materials
which, though scanty and insufficient upon the whole, may, in part, rend
the veil of destructive politics, and enable future ages to penetrate
into mysteries which crime in power has interest to render impenetrable
to the just reprobation of honour and of virtue." If, therefore, my
humble labours can preserve loyal subjects from the seduction of
traitors, or warn lawful sovereigns and civilized society of the alarming
conspiracy against them, I shall not think either my time thrown away, or
fear the dangers to which publicity might expose me were I only suspected
here of being an Anglican author. Before the Letters are sent to the
press I trust, however, to your discretion the removal of everything that
might produce a discovery, or indicate the source from which you have
derived your information.
Although it is not usual in private correspondence to quote authorities,
I have sometimes done so; but satisfied, as I hope you are, with my
veracity, I should have thought the frequent productions of any better
pledge than the word of a man of honour an insult to your feelings. I
have, besides, not related a fact that is not recent and well known in
our fashionable and political societies; and of ALL the portraits I have
delineated, the originals not only exist, but are yet occupied in the
present busy scene of the Continent, and figuring either at Courts, in
camps, or in Cabinets.
LETTER I.
PARIS, August, 1805.
MY LORD:--I promised you not to pronounce in haste on persons and events
passing under my eyes; thirty-one months have quickly passed away since I
became an attentive spectator of the extraordinary transactions, and of
the extraordinary characters of the extraordinary Court and Cabinet of
St. Cloud. If my talents to delineate equal my zeal to inquire and my
industry to examine; if I am as able a painter as I have been an
indefatigable observer, you will be satisfied, and with your approbation
at once sanction and reward my labours.
With most Princes, the supple courtier and the fawning favourite have
greater influence than the profound statesman and subtle Minister; and
the determinations of Cabinets are, therefore, frequently prepared in
drawing-rooms, and discussed in the closet. The politician and the
counsellor are frequently applauded or censured for transactions which
the intrigues of antechambers conceived, and which cupidity and
| 734.508141 | 3,544 |
2023-11-16 18:28:01.2683210
| 1,102 | 383 |
Produced by Ed Brandon
AMOURS DE VOYAGE
Arthur Hugh Clough
1903 Macmillan edition
Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio,
And taste with a distempered appetite!
--Shakspeare
Il doutait de tout, meme de l'amour.
--French Novel
Solvitur ambulando.
Solutio Sophismatum.
Flevit amores
Non elaboratum ad pedem.
--Horace
AMOURS DE VOYAGE.
Canto I.
Over the great windy waters, and over the clear-crested summits,
Unto the sun and the sky, and unto the perfecter earth,
Come, let us go,--to a land wherein gods of the old time wandered,
Where every breath even now changes to ether divine.
Come, let us go; though withal a voice whisper, 'The world that we live in,
Whithersoever we turn, still is the same narrow crib;
'Tis but to prove limitation, and measure a cord, that we travel;
Let who would'scape and be free go to his chamber and think;
'Tis but to change idle fancies for memories wilfully falser;
'Tis but to go and have been.'--Come, little bark! let us go.
I. Claude to Eustace.
Dear Eustatio, I write that you may write me an answer,
Or at the least to put us again en rapport with each other.
Rome disappoints me much,--St Peter's, perhaps, in especial;
Only the Arch of Titus and view from the Lateran please me:
This, however, perhaps is the weather, which truly is horrid.
Greece must be better, surely; and yet I am feeling so spiteful,
That I could travel to Athens, to Delphi, and Troy, and Mount Sinai,
Though but to see with my eyes that these are vanity also.
Rome disappoints me much; I hardly as yet understand it, but
RUBBISHY seems the word that most exactly would suit it.
All the foolish destructions, and all the sillier savings,
All the incongruous things of past incompatible ages,
Seem to be treasured up here to make fools of present and future.
Would to Heaven the old Goths had made a cleaner sweep of it!
Would to Heaven some new ones would come and destroy these churches!
However, one can live in Rome as also in London.
It is a blessing, no doubt, to be rid, at least for a time, of
All one's friends and relations,--yourself (forgive me!) included,--
All the assujettissement of having been what one has been,
What one thinks one is, or thinks that others suppose one;
Yet, in despite of all, we turn like fools to the English.
Vernon has been my fate; who is here the same that you knew him,--
Making the tour, it seems, with friends of the name of Trevellyn.
II. Claude to Eustace.
Rome disappoints me still; but I shrink and adapt myself to it.
Somehow a tyrannous sense of a superincumbent oppression
Still, wherever I go, accompanies ever, and makes me
Feel like a tree (shall I say?) buried under a ruin of brickwork.
Rome, believe me, my friend, is like its own Monte Testaceo,
Merely a marvellous mass of broken and castaway wine-pots.
Ye gods! what do I want with this rubbish of ages departed,
Things that Nature abhors, the experiments that she has failed in?
What do I find in the Forum? An archway and two or three pillars.
Well, but St. Peter's? Alas, Bernini has filled it with sculpture!
No one can cavil, I grant, at the size of the great Coliseum.
Doubtless the notion of grand and capacious and massive amusement,
This the old Romans had; but tell me, is this an idea?
Yet of solidity much, but of splendour little is extant:
'Brickwork I found thee, and marble I left thee!' their Emperor vaunted;
'Marble I thought thee, and brickwork I find thee!' the Tourist may answer.
III. Georgina Trevellyn to Louisa ----.
At last, dearest Louisa, I take up my pen to address you.
Here we are, you see, with the seven-and-seventy boxes,
Courier, Papa and Mamma, the children, and Mary and Susan:
Here we all are at Rome, and delighted of course with St. Peter's,
And very pleasantly lodged in the famous Piazza di Spagna.
Rome is a wonderful place, but Mary shall tell you about it;
Not very gay, however; the English are mostly at Naples;
There are the A.'s, we hear, and most of the W. party
| 734.587731 | 3,545 |
2023-11-16 18:28:01.3542130
| 1,110 | 377 |
Produced by Bryan Ness, Steven Calwas 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.)
SELECTED WORKS
OF
VOLTAIRINE DE CLEYRE
Edited by
ALEXANDER BERKMAN
Biographical Sketch by
HIPPOLYTE HAVEL
NEW YORK
MOTHER EARTH PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION
1914
Set up and electrotyped.
Published May, 1914.
CONTENTS
Poems
Page
The Burial of My Past Self...... 17
Night on the Graves ......... 18
The Christian's Faith ........ 18
The Freethinker's Plea........ 22
To My Mother............. 26
Betrayed............... 27
Optimism............... 33
At the Grave in Waldheim....... 33
The Hurricane ............ 34
Ut Sementem Feceris, Ita Metes.... 36
Bastard Born............. 36
Hymn................. 42
You and I .............. 42
The Toast of Despair......... 44
In Memoriam--To Dyer D. Lum ..... 45
Out of the Darkness ......... 47
Mary Wollstonecraft ......... 49
The Gods and the People ....... 50
John P. Altgeld ........... 56
The Cry of the Unfit......... 56
In Memoriam--To Gen. M. M. Trumbull . 58
The Wandering Jew .......... 58
The Feast of Vultures ........ 59
The Suicide's Defense ........ 62
A Novel of Color........... 64
Germinal............... 65
"Light Upon Waldheim" ........ 66
Love's Compensation ......... 66
The Road Builders .......... 68
Angiolillo.............. 69
Ave et Vale ............. 70
Marsh-Bloom ............. 74
Written--in--Red........... 75
Essays
Page
The Dominant Idea .......... 79
Anarchism .............. 96
Anarchism and American Traditions .. 118
Anarchism in Literature ....... 136
The Making of an Anarchist...... 154
The Eleventh of November, 1887.... 164
Crime and Punishment......... 173
In Defense of Emma Goldman...... 205
Direct Action ............ 220
The Paris Commune .......... 243
The Mexican Revolution........ 253
Thomas Paine............. 276
Dyer D. Lum ............. 284
Francisco Ferrer........... 297
Modern Educational Reform ...... 321
Sex Slavery ............. 342
| 734.673623 | 3,546 |
2023-11-16 18:28:01.8491660
| 400 | 136 |
Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Heathen Master Filcsik
Cleveland Ohio
mdccccx
Heathen Master Filcsik,
From the Magyar of Kalman
Mikszath: Translated
by William N. Loew.
[Illustration]
Cleveland Ohio: Printed at The
Clerk's Private Press - mcmx
[Illustration]
_Introductory Note._
Through the kindness of William N. Loew, Esq., of the New York Bar, who
has generously placed the manuscript at our disposal, we are able to
offer a translation of one of the shorter stories by a living Hungarian
writer.
The Magyar literature offers a mine of gold to the translator, but on
account of the difficulties of the language very few have explored it.
With the exception of the great novelist, Maurus Jokai, the works of the
majority of the first class authors are unknown to the average American
reader.
The difficulties of the Magyar tongue have been referred to. It is the
one great literary language of Europe that is of non-Aryan origin. It is
syllabic agglutinative, that is, the word inflections are made up by
adding syllables to the root word that is never lost. The verb is
particularly flexible and many of the tenses cannot be rendered
adequately in English because they are constructed after a different
system. The fine distinctions possible for the Magyar verb can only be
felt, and not translated. This will explain the seeming inconsistency
of the tenses in our story, where presents, futures, and perfects appear
to be used indiscriminately, and yet the whole action has taken place in
the more or less remote past. In this way the translator has endeavored
to convey the vivid
| 735.168576 | 3,547 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.0182950
| 2,995 | 30 |
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Diane Monico, and The Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: (cover)]
[Illustration: (frontispiece)]
"SOME SAY"
NEIGHBOURS IN CYRUS
BY
LAURA E. RICHARDS
Author of "Captain January," "Melody," "Queen Hildegarde,"
"Five-Minute Stories," "When I Was Your Age,"
"Narcissa," "Marie," "Nautilus," etc.
TWELFTH THOUSAND
[Illustration]
BOSTON
DANA ESTES & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1896_,
BY ESTES & LAURIAT
_All rights reserved_
Colonial Press:
C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
Electrotyped by Geo. C. Scott & Sons
"SOME SAY"
TO MY
Dear Sister,
FLORENCE HOWE HALL,
THIS VOLUME
IS AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED
* * * * *
"SOME SAY."
Part I.
"And some say, she expects to get him married to Rose Ellen before the
year's out!"
"I want to know if she does!"
"Her sister married a minister, and her father was a deacon, so mebbe
she thinks she's got a master-key to the Kingdom. But I don't feel so
sure of her gettin' this minister for Rose Ellen. Some say he's so
wropped up in his garden truck that he don't know a gal from a
gooseberry bush. He! he!"
The shrill cackle was answered by a slow, unctuous chuckle, as of a
fat and wheezy person; then a door was closed, and silence fell.
The minister looked up apprehensively; his fair face was flushed, and
his mild, blue eyes looked troubled. He gazed at the broad back of his
landlady, as she stood dusting, with minute care, the china ornaments
on the mantelpiece; but her back gave no sign. He coughed once or
twice; he said, "Mrs. Mellen!" tentatively, first low, then in his
ordinary voice, but there was no reply. Was Mrs. Mellen deaf? he had
not noticed it before. He pondered distressfully for a few moments;
then dropped his eyes, and the book swallowed him again. Yet the sting
remained, for when presently the figure at the mantelpiece turned
round, he looked up hastily, and flushed again as he met his hostess'
gaze, calm and untroubled as a summer pool.
"There, sir!" said Mrs. Mellen, cheerfully. "I guess that's done to
suit. Is there anything more I can do for you before I go?"
The minister's mind hovered between two perplexities; a glance at the
book before him decided their relative importance.
"Have you ever noticed, Mrs. Mellen, whether woodcocks are more apt to
fly on moonshiny nights, as White assures us?"
"Woodbox?" said Mrs. Mellen. "Why, yes, sir, it's handy by; and when
there's no moon, the lantern always hangs in the porch. But I'll see
that Si Jones keeps it full up, after this."
Decidedly, the good woman was deaf, and she had not heard. Could those
harpies be right? If any such idea as they suggested were actually in
his hostess' mind, he must go away, for his work must not be
interfered with, and he must not encourage hopes,--the minister
blushed again, and glanced around to see if any one could see him.
But he was so comfortable here, and Miss Mellen was so intelligent, so
helpful; and this seemed the ideal spot on which to compile his New
England "Selborne."
He sighed, and thought of the woodcock again. Why should the bird
prefer a moonshiny night? Was it likely that the creature had any
appreciation of the beauties of nature? Shakespeare uses the woodcock
as a simile of folly, to express a person without brains. Ha!
The door opened, and Rose Ellen came in, her eyes shining with
pleasure, her hands full of gold and green.
"I've found the 'Squarrosa,' Mr. Lindsay!" she announced. "See, this
is it, surely!"
The minister rose, and inspected the flowers delightedly. "This is it,
surely!" he repeated. "Stem stout, hairy above; leaves large, oblong,
or the lower spatulate-oval, and tapering into a marginal petiole,
serrate veiny; heads numerous; seeds obtuse or acute; disk-flowers, 16
x 24. This is, indeed, a treasure, for Gray calls it 'rare in New
England.' I congratulate you, Miss Mellen."
"Late, sir?" said Mrs. Mellen, calmly. "Oh, no, 'tisn't hardly five
o'clock yet. Still, 'tis time for me to be thinkin' of gettin'
supper."
"Don't you want I should make some biscuit for supper, mother?" asked
Rose Ellen, coming out of her rapt contemplation of the goldenrod that
Gray condescended to call rare, he to whom all things were common.
Her mother made no answer.
"Don't you want I should make a pan of biscuit?" Rose Ellen repeated.
Still there was no reply, and the girl turned to look at her mother in
some alarm.
"Why, mother, what is the matter? why don't you answer me?"
"Your mother's deafness," the minister put in, hurriedly, "seems
suddenly increased: probably a cold,--"
"Was you speakin' to me, Rose Ellen?" said Mrs. Mellen.
"Why, yes!" said the girl, in distress.
"Why, mother, how did you get this cold? you seemed all right when I
went out."
"Gettin' old!" cried Mrs. Mellen. "'Tis nothin' of the sort, Rose
Ellen! I've took a cold, I shouldn't wonder. I went out without my
shawl just for a minute. I expect 'twas careless, but there! life is
too short to be thinkin' all the time about the flesh,'specially when
there's as much of it as I have. I've ben expectin' I should grow hard
of hearin', though, these two years past. The Bowlers do, you know,
Rose Ellen, 'long about middle life. There was your Uncle Lihu. I can
hear him snort now, sittin' in his chair, like a pig for all the
world, and with no idea he was makin' a sound."
"But it's come on so sudden!" cried Rose Ellen, in distress.
"That's Bowler!" said her mother. "Bowler for all the world! They take
things suddin, whether it's hoarsin' up, or breakin' out, or what it
is. There! you've heard me tell how my Aunt Phoebe 'Lizabeth come out
with spots all over her face, when she was standin' up to be married.
Chicken-pox it was, and they never knew where she got it; but my
grand'ther said 'twas pure Bowler, wherever it come from."
She gazed placidly at her daughter's troubled face; then, patting her
with her broad hand, pushed her gently out of the room before her.
"Mr. Lindsay's heard enough of my bein' hard of hearin', I expect,"
she said, cheerfully, as they passed into the kitchen.
"Don't you fret, Rose Ellen! You won't have to get a fog-horn yet
awhile. I don't know but it would be a good plan for you to mix up a
mess o' biscuit, if you felt to: Mr. Lindsay likes your biscuit real
well, I heard him say so."
"That's what I was going to do," said Rose Ellen, still depressed. "I
wish't you'd see the doctor, mother. I don't believe but he could help
your hearing, if you take it before it's got settled on you."
"Well, I won't, certain!" said Mrs. Mellen. "The idea, strong and well
as I be! Bowler blood's comin' out, that's all; and the only wonder is
it hasn't come out before."
All that day, and the next, the minister did not seem like himself. He
was no more absent-minded than usual, perhaps,--that could hardly be.
But he was grave and troubled, and the usual happy laugh did not come
when Rose Ellen checked him gently as he was about to put pepper into
his tea. Several times he seemed about to speak: his eye dwelt
anxiously on the cream-jug, in which he seemed to be seeking
inspiration; but each time his heart failed him, and he relapsed with
a sigh into his melancholy reverie.
Rose Ellen was silent, too, and the burden of the talk fell on her
mother. At supper on the second day, midway between the ham and the
griddle-cakes, Mrs. Mellen announced:
"Rose Ellen, I expect you'd better go down to Tupham to-morrow, and
stay a spell with your grandm'ther. She seems to be right poorly, and
I expect it'd be a comfort to her to have you with her. I guess you'd
better get ready to-night, and Calvin Parks can take you up as he goes
along."
Rose Ellen and the minister both looked up with a start, and both
flushed, and both opened wide eyes of astonishment.
"Why, mother!" said the girl. "I can't go away and leave you now, with
this cold on you."
Her mother did not hear her, so Rose Ellen repeated the words in a
clear, high-pitched voice, with a note of anxiety which brought a
momentary shade to Mrs. Mellen's smooth brow. The next moment,
however, the brow cleared again.
"I guess you'd better go!" she said again. "It'd be a pity if Mr.
Lindsay and I couldn't get along for a month or six weeks; and I wrote
mother yesterday that you would be up along to-morrow, so she'll be
looking for you. I don't like to have mother disappointed of a thing
at her age, it gives her the palpitations."
"You--wrote--that I was coming!" repeated Rose Ellen. "And you never
told me you was writing, mother? I--I should have liked to have known
before you wrote."
"Coat?" said Mrs. Mellen. "Oh, your coat'll do well enough, Rose
Ellen. Why, you've only just had it bound new, and new buttons put on.
I should take my figured muslin, if I was you, and have Miss Turner
look at it and see how you could do it over: she has good ideas,
sometimes, and it'd be a little different from what the girls here was
doin', maybe. Anyway, I'd take it, and your light sack, too. 'Twon't
do no harm to have 'em gone over a little."
Rose Ellen looked ready to cry, but she kept the tears back
resolutely.
"I--don't--want to leave you, with this deafness coming on!" she
shouted, her usually soft voice ringing like a bugle across the
tea-table.
"There! there! don't you grow foolish," her mother replied, with
absolute calm.
"Why, I can hear ye as well as ever, when you raise your voice a mite,
like that. I should admire to know why you should stay at home on my
account. I suppose I know my way about the house, if I be losin' my
hearing just a dite. It isn't going to spoil my cooking, that I can
see; and I guess Mr. Lindsay won't make no opposition to your going,
for any difference it'll make to him."
Mr. Lindsay, thus appealed to, stammered, and blushed up to his eyes,
and stammered again; but finally managed to say, with more or less
distinctness, that of course whatever was agreeable to Mrs. and Miss
Mellen was agreeable to him, and that he begged not to be considered
in any way in the formation of their plans.
"That's just what I was thinking!" said his hostess. "A man don't want
no botheration of plans. So that's settled, Rose Ellen."
Rose Ellen knew it was settled. She was a girl of character and
resolution, but she had never resisted her mother's will, nor had any
one else, so far as she knew. She cried a good deal over her packing,
and dropped a tear on her silk waist, the pride of her heart, and was
surprised to find that she did not care. "There's no one there to care
whether I look nice or not!" she said aloud; and then blushed
furiously, and looked around the room, fearfully, to be sure that she
was alone.
Early next morning the crack of a whip was heard, and Calvin Parks's
voice, shouting cheerfully for his passenger. The minister, razor in
hand, peeped between his shutters, and saw Rose Ellen come from the
house, wiping her eyes, and looking back, with anxious eyes. A wave of
feeling swept through him, and he felt, for the moment, that he hated
Mrs. Mellen. He had never hated any one before in his
| 735.337705 | 3,548 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.0308220
| 1,313 | 198 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, S.D., and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber's Note:
For the ASCII version of this e-book, letters with a macron over them
have been represented as [=o], and letters with a breve as [)u].
Page numbers from the original book have been added to asterisks that
indicate notes in the Appendix (e.g. [*3]) in order to make it easier to
match them to their corresponding notes. Page 61 has two notes: [*61a]
and [*61b]. Footnotes are in the same format, without the asterisks
(e.g. [1], [2])
Please see the end of this book for more detailed notes on the text.]
By Alice M. Bacon
IN THE LAND OF THE GODS. 12mo, $1.50.
JAPANESE GIRLS AND WOMEN. 16mo, $1.25. In Riverside Library for Young
People. 16mo, 75 cents.
_Holiday Edition._ With 12 full-page Illustrations in color and 43
outline drawings by Japanese artists. Crown 8vo, gilt top, $4.00.
A JAPANESE INTERIOR. 16mo, $1.25. In Riverside School Library. 16mo, 60
cents, _net_.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
JAPANESE GIRLS AND
WOMEN
BY
ALICE MABEL BACON
_REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION_
[Illustration]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
Copyright, 1891, 1902,
BY ALICE MABEL BACON.
_All rights reserved._
To
STEMATZ, THE MARCHIONESS OYAMA,
IN THE NAME OF OUR GIRLHOOD'S FRIENDSHIP, UNCHANGED AND
UNSHAKEN BY THE CHANGES AND SEPARATIONS OF OUR
MATURER YEARS,
This Volume
_IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. CHILDHOOD 1
II. EDUCATION 37
III. MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE 57
IV. WIFE AND MOTHER 84
V. OLD AGE 119
VI. COURT LIFE 138
VII. LIFE IN CASTLE AND YASHIKI 169
VIII. SAMURAI WOMEN 196
IX. PEASANT WOMEN 228
X. LIFE IN THE CITIES 262
XI. DOMESTIC SERVICE 299
XII. WITHIN THE HOME 327
XIII. TEN YEARS OF PROGRESS 371
APPENDIX 423
INDEX 473
PREFACE TO REVISED EDITION.
In offering a revised edition of a book which has been before the public
for more than ten years, there is little to say that has not been said
in the original Preface. The work as published before, however, was
always, to its author's mind, unfinished, for the reason that a chapter
on household customs, which was necessary for the completion of the
plan, had to be omitted because it could not be written in America.
This defect has now been remedied, and the chapter "Within the Home"
contains the supplementary matter necessary to complete the picture of a
Japanese woman's life. In addition to this a thorough revision has been
made of the whole book, and the subjects discussed in each chapter have
been brought up to date by means of notes in an Appendix. The reader
will find these notes referred to by asterisks in the text.
Finally, a second supplementary chapter has been added, in which an
effort has been made to analyze present conditions. From its nature,
this chapter is only a rapid survey of the progress of ten years. It is
not easy to write with judgment of conditions actually present. A little
perspective is necessary to make sure that one sees things in their
proper proportions. It is therefore with some hesitation that I offer to
the public the result of two years' experience of the present state of
affairs. If subsequent events show that my observation has been
incorrect, I can only say that what I have written has been the
"Thing-as-I-see-It," and does not lay claim to being the
"Thing-as-It-is."
In closing, I would thank once more the friends whose names appear in
the previous Preface, and would add to their number the names of Mr. H.
Sakurai and Mr. and Mrs. Seijiro Saito, who have rendered me valuable
aid in gathering material.
A. M. B.
NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT,
_November, 1902_.
PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION.
It seems necessary for a new author to give some excuse for her boldness
in offering to the public another volume upon a subject already so well
written up as Japan. In a field occupied by Griffis, Morse, Greey,
Lowell, and Rein, what unexplored corner can a woman hope to enter? This
is the question that will be asked, and that accordingly the author must
answer.
While Japan as a whole has been closely studied, and while much and
varied information has been gathered about the country and its people,
one half of the population has been left entirely unnoticed, passed over
with brief mention, or altogether misunderstood. It is of this neglected
half that I have written, in the hope that the whole fabric of Japanese
social life will be better comprehended when the women of the country,
and so the homes that they make, are better known and understood.
The reason why Japanese home-life is so little understood by foreigners,
even by those who have lived long in Japan, is that the Japanese, under
an appearance of frankness and candor
| 735.350232 | 3,549 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.2994250
| 387 | 102 |
Produced by MFR, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration: SHIO YA SAKAE]
WHEN I WAS A BOY
IN JAPAN
BY
SAKAE SHIOYA
_ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS_
[Illustration]
BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Published, August, 1906.
COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
_All Rights Reserved._
WHEN I WAS A BOY IN JAPAN.
Norwood Press
Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U. S. A.
PREFACE
Japanese boys have not been introduced very much to their little
American friends, and the purpose of this book is to provide an
introduction by telling some of the experiences which are common to
most Japanese boys of the present time, together with some account of
the customs and manners belonging to their life. I can at least claim
that the story is told as it could be only by one who had actually
lived the life that is portrayed. I have endeavored to hold the
interest of my young readers by bringing in more or less of amusement.
The little girl companion is introduced to widen the interest and add
somewhat more of the story element than would otherwise be present. The
sketches composing the various chapters are necessarily disconnected,
but they form a series of pictures, priceless at least to the author,
which foreign eyes have seldom been allowed to see.
SAKAE SHIOYA.
YALE UNIVERSITY,
| 735.618835 | 3,550 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.3166520
| 401 | 94 |
Produced by KD Weeks, Brian Coe and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
produced from images made available by the HathiTrust
Digital Library.)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. Bold
characters are delimited with ‘=’, as =bold=.
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PHRASES AND NAMES
THEIR ORIGINS AND
MEANINGS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PHRASES AND NAMES
THEIR ORIGINS AND
MEANINGS
BY
TRENCH H. JOHNSON
“_How did such and such a country, city, town,
street, river, natural curiosity, or world-renowned
edifice obtain its name? Whence arose a particular
sobriquet, nickname, byword, epithet, or slang term?
What was the origin of the thousand-and-one phrases
and expressions engrafted upon our vocabulary which
would appear to have no meaning whatever? These
things are worthy of investigation._”
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
LONDON
T. WERNER LAURIE
PREFACE
_Few words are necessary to introduce this work to the reader. It
partakes of the nature of an encyclopædia, with the saving clause that
the information it sets forth is confined to a plain statement of facts.
Ver
| 735.636062 | 3,551 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.5630900
| 1,160 | 409 |
Produced by David Widger
THE MEMOIRS
OF
JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT
1725-1798
THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR MACHEN TO WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED BY ARTHUR SYMONS.
[Transcriber's Note: These memoires were not written for children, they may outrage readers also offended by Chaucer, La Fontaine, Rabelais and The Old Testament. D.W.]
CONTENTS
ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE
VOLUME 5 -- TO LONDON AND MOSCOW
EPISODE 21 -- SOUTH OF FRANCE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
EPISODE 21 -- TO LONDON
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
EPISODE 23--THE ENGLISH
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
EPISODE 24 -- FLIGHT FROM LONDON TO BERLIN
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
EPISODE 25 -- RUSSIA AND POLAND
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
VOLUME 5 -- IN LONDON AND MOSCOW
EPISODE 21 -- SOUTH OF FRANCE
CHAPTER I
I Find Rosalie Happy--The Signora Isola-Bella--The Cook--
Biribi--Irene--Possano in Prison--My Niece Proves to be an
Old Friend of Rosalie's
At Genoa, where he was known to all, Pogomas called himself Possano. He introduced me to his wife and daughter, but they were so ugly and disgusting in every respect that I left them on some trifling pretext, and went to dine with my new niece. Afterwards I went to see the Marquis Grimaldi, for I longed to know what had become of Rosalie. The marquis was away in Venice, and was not expected back till the end of April; but one of his servants took me to Rosalie, who had become Madame Paretti six months after my departure.
My heart beat fast as I entered the abode of this woman, of whom I had such pleasant recollections. I first went to M. Paretti in his shop, and he received me with a joyful smile, which shewed me how happy he was. He took me to his wife directly, who cried out with delight, and ran to embrace me.
M. Paretti was busy, and begged me to excuse him, saying his wife would entertain me.
Rosalie shewed me a pretty little girl of six months old, telling me that she was happy, that she loved her husband, and was loved by him, that he was industrious and active in business, and under the patronage of the Marquis Grimaldi had prospered exceedingly.
The peaceful happiness of marriage had improved her wonderfully; she had become a perfect beauty in every sense of the word.
"My dear friend," she said, "you are very good to call on me directly you arrive, and I hope you will dine with us to-morrow. I owe all my happiness to you, and that is even a sweeter thought than the recollection of the passionate hours we have spent together. Let us kiss, but no more; my duty as an honest wife forbids me from going any further, so do not disturb the happiness you have given."
I pressed her hand tenderly, to shew that I assented to the conditions she laid down.
"Oh! by the way," she suddenly exclaimed, "I have a pleasant surprise for you."
She went out, and a moment afterward returned with Veronique, who had become her maid. I was glad to see her and embraced her affectionately, asking after Annette. She said her sister was well, and was working with her mother.
"I want her to come and wait on my niece while we are here," said I.
At this Rosalie burst out laughing.
"What! another niece? You have a great many relations! But as she is your niece, I hope you will bring her with you to-morrow."
"Certainly, and all the more willingly as she is from Marseilles."
"From Marseilles? Why, we might know each other. Not that that would matter, for all your nieces are discreet young persons. What is her name?"
"Crosin."
"I don't know it."
"I daresay you don't. She is the daughter of a cousin of mine who lived at Marseilles."
"Tell that to someone else; but, after all, what does it matter? You choose well, amuse yourself, and make them happy. It may be wisdom after all, and at any rate I congratulate you. I shall be delighted to see your niece, but if she knows me you must see that she knows her part as well."
On leaving Madame Paretti I called on the Signora Isola-Bella, and gave her the Marquis Triulzi's letter. Soon after she came into the room and welcomed me, saying that she had been expecting me, as Triulzi had written to her on the subject. She introduced me to the Marquis Augustino Grimaldi delta Pietra, her 'cicisbeoin-chief' during the long absence of her husband, who lived at Lisbon.
The signora's apartments were very elegant. She was pretty with small though regular features
| 735.8825 | 3,552 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.5814290
| 379 | 92 |
***
Produced by David Widger.
*THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN*
_By_
*Alexandre Dumas, Pere*
_From the set of Eight Volumes of "Celebrated Crimes"_
1910
CONTENTS
*THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN--1639*
*THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN--1639*
About the end of the year 1639, a troop of horsemen arrived, towards
midday, in a little village at the northern extremity of the province of
Auvergne, from the direction of Paris. The country folk assembled at the
noise, and found it to proceed from the provost of the mounted police
and his men. The heat was excessive, the horses were bathed in sweat,
the horsemen covered with dust, and the party seemed on its return from
an important expedition. A man left the escort, and asked an old woman
who was spinning at her door if there was not an inn in the place. The
woman and her children showed him a bush hanging over a door at the end
of the only street in the village, and the escort recommenced its march
at a walk. There was noticed, among the mounted men, a young man of
distinguished appearance and richly dressed, who appeared to be a
prisoner. This discovery redoubled the curiosity of the villagers, who
followed the cavalcade as far as the door of the wine-shop. The host
came out, cap in hand, and the provost enquired of him with a swaggering
air if his pothouse was large enough to accommodate his troop, men and
horses. The host replied that he had the best wine
| 735.900839 | 3,553 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.5977840
| 1,056 | 397 |
Produced by David Widger
LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI
BY MARK TWAIN
Part 7.
Chapter 31 A Thumb-print and What Came of It
WE were approaching Napoleon, Arkansas. So I began to think about my
errand there. Time, noonday; and bright and sunny. This was bad--not
best, anyway; for mine was not (preferably) a noonday kind of errand.
The more I thought, the more that fact pushed itself upon me--now in one
form, now in another. Finally, it took the form of a distinct question:
is it good common sense to do the errand in daytime, when, by a little
sacrifice of comfort and inclination, you can have night for it, and no
inquisitive eyes around. This settled it. Plain question and plain
answer make the shortest road out of most perplexities.
I got my friends into my stateroom, and said I was sorry to create
annoyance and disappointment, but that upon reflection it really seemed
best that we put our luggage ashore and stop over at Napoleon. Their
disapproval was prompt and loud; their language mutinous. Their main
argument was one which has always been the first to come to the surface,
in such cases, since the beginning of time: 'But you decided and AGREED
to stick to this boat, etc.; as if, having determined to do an unwise
thing, one is thereby bound to go ahead and make TWO unwise things of
it, by carrying out that determination.
I tried various mollifying tactics upon them, with reasonably good
success: under which encouragement, I increased my efforts; and, to show
them that I had not created this annoying errand, and was in no way to
blame for it, I presently drifted into its history--substantially as
follows:
Toward the end of last year, I spent a few months in Munich, Bavaria. In
November I was living in Fraulein Dahlweiner's PENSION, 1a, Karlstrasse;
but my working quarters were a mile from there, in the house of a widow
who supported herself by taking lodgers. She and her two young children
used to drop in every morning and talk German to me--by request. One
day, during a ramble about the city, I visited one of the two
establishments where the Government keeps and watches corpses until the
doctors decide that they are permanently dead, and not in a trance
state. It was a grisly place, that spacious room. There were thirty-six
corpses of adults in sight, stretched on their backs on slightly slanted
boards, in three long rows--all of them with wax-white, rigid faces, and
all of them wrapped in white shrouds. Along the sides of the room were
deep alcoves, like bay windows; and in each of these lay several marble-
visaged babes, utterly hidden and buried under banks of fresh flowers,
all but their faces and crossed hands. Around a finger of each of these
fifty still forms, both great and small, was a ring; and from the ring a
wire led to the ceiling, and thence to a bell in a watch-room yonder,
where, day and night, a watchman sits always alert and ready to spring
to the aid of any of that pallid company who, waking out of death, shall
make a movement--for any, even the slightest, movement will twitch the
wire and ring that fearful bell. I imagined myself a death-sentinel
drowsing there alone, far in the dragging watches of some wailing, gusty
night, and having in a twinkling all my body stricken to quivering jelly
by the sudden clamor of that awful summons! So I inquired about this
thing; asked what resulted usually? if the watchman died, and the
restored corpse came and did what it could to make his last moments
easy. But I was rebuked for trying to feed an idle and frivolous
curiosity in so solemn and so mournful a place; and went my way with a
humbled crest.
Next morning I was telling the widow my adventure, when she exclaimed--
'Come with me! I have a lodger who shall tell you all you want to know.
He has been a night-watchman there.'
He was a living man, but he did not look it. He was abed, and had his
head propped high on pillows; his face was wasted and colorless, his
deep-sunken eyes were shut; his hand, lying on his breast, was talon-
like, it was so bony and long-fingered. The widow began her introduction
of me. The man's eyes opened slowly, and glittered wickedly out from
the twilight of their caverns; he frowned a black frown; he lifted his
| 735.917194 | 3,554 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.5988530
| 869 | 98 |
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 of one of two persons--Insensibility
of the eye to particular colours--Remarkable
optical illusion described 8
LETTER III.
Subject of spectral illusions--Recent and interesting case
of Mrs. A.--Her first illusion affecting the ear--Spectral
apparition of her husband--Spectral apparition of a cat--Apparition
of a near and living relation in grave-clothes,
seen in a looking-glass--Other illusions, affecting
the ear--Spectre of a deceased friend sitting in an
easy-chair--Spectre of a coach-and-four filled with
skeletons--Accuracy and value of the preceding cases--State of
health under which they arose--Spectral apparitions are
pictures on the retina--The ideas of memory and imagination
are also pictures on the retina--General views of
the subject--Approximate explanation of spectral apparitions 37
LETTER IV.
Science used as an instrument of imposture--Deceptions
with plane and concave mirrors practised by the ancients--The
magician’s mirror--Effects of concave mirrors--Aërial
images--Images on smoke--Combination of
mirrors for producing pictures from living objects--The
mysterious dagger--Ancient miracles with concave
mirrors--Modern necromancy with them, as seen by Cellini--Description
and effects of the magic lantern--Improvements
upon it--Phantasmagoric exhibitions of
Philipstall and others--Dr. Young’s arrangement of
lenses, &c., for the Phantasmagoria--Improvements
suggested--Catadioptrical phantasmagoria for producing
the pictures from living objects--Method of cutting off
parts of the figures--Kircher’s mysterious hand-writing on
the wall--His hollow cylindrical mirror for
| 735.918263 | 3,555 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.6799660
| 1,107 | 393 |
AS OTHERS SAW HIM
AS OTHERS SAW HIM
_A RETROSPECT_
A. D. 54
"_It cannot be that a prophet perish out of Jerusalem_"
LUKE xiii. 33
[Illustration: Publisher's sign]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
*The Riverside Press, Cambridge*
1895
Copyright, 1895,
BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
_All rights reserved._
_The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
TO AGLAOPHONOS, PHYSICIAN OF THE GREEKS AT CORINTH, MESHULLAM BEN ZADOK, A
SCRIBE OF THE JEWS AT ALEXANDRIA, GREETING:--
_It was a joy and a surprise to me to hear news after many days from thee,
my master and my friend. To thee I owe whatever I have of Greek wisdom;
for when in the old days at the Holy City thou soughtest me for
instruction in our Law, I learnt more from thee than I could impart to
thee. Since I last wrote to thee, I have come to this great city, where
many of my nation dwell, and almost all the most learned of thy tongue are
congregated. Truly, it would please me much, and mine only son and his
wife, if thou couldst come and take up thy sojourn among us for a while._
_Touching the man Saul of Tarsus, of whom thou writest, I know but little.
He is well instructed in our Law, both written and oral, having received
the latter from the chief master among those of the past generation,
Gamaliel by name. Yet he is not of the disciples of Aaron that love peace;
for when I last heard of him he was among the leaders of a riot in which a
man was slain. And now I think thereon, I am almost certain that the slain
man was of the followers of Jesus the Nazarene, and this Saul was __among
the bitterest against them. And yet thou writest that the same Saul has
spoken of the Nazarene that he was a god like Apollo, that had come down
on earth for a while to live his life among men. Truly, men's minds are as
the wind that bloweth hither and thither._
_But as for that Jesus of Nazara, I can tell thee much, if not all. For I
was at Jerusalem all the time he passed for a leader of men up to his
shameful death. At first I admired him for his greatness of soul and
goodness of life, but in the end I came to see that he was a danger to our
nation, and, though unwillingly, I was of those who voted for his death in
the Council of Twenty-Three. Yet I cannot tell thee all I know in the
compass of a letter, so I have written it at large for thee, and it will
be delivered unto thee even with this letter. And in my description of
events I have been at pains to distinguish between what I saw myself and
what I heard from others, following in this the example of Herodotus of
Halicarnassus, who, if he spake rude Greek, wrote true history. And so
farewell._
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I. THE MAN WITH THE SCOURGE 9
II. THE UPBRINGING 21
III. EARLIER TEACHING. SERMON IN THE SYNAGOGUE OF THE 37
GALILAEANS
IV. THE TWO WAYS 55
V. THE WOMAN TAKEN IN ADULTERY. THE RICH YOUNG MAN 63
VI. THE TESTINGS IN THE TEMPLE 75
VII. THE SECOND SERMON 87
VIII. THE REBUKING OF JESUS 99
IX. JESUS IN THE TEMPLE 111
X. THE ENTRY INTO JERUSALEM 121
XI. THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE 133
XII. THE WOES 145
XIII. THE GREAT REFUSAL 155
XIV. THE MEETING OF THE HANANITES 167
XV. THE EXAMINATION BEFORE THE SANHEDRIM 181
XVI. CONDEMNATION AND EXECUTION 195
EPILOGUE 207
I.
THE MAN WITH THE SCOURGE.
I was crossing one morning the Xystus Bridge on my way to the Temple, when
I saw issuing from the nearest gate a herd of beasts of sacrifice. Fearing
that something untoward had occurred, I hurried to the gate, and when I
entered the Court of the Gentiles, I found all in confusion. The tables of
the money-changers had been overturned
| 735.999376 | 3,556 |
2023-11-16 18:28:02.9743480
| 4,073 | 48 |
Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE
THREE IMPOSTORS.
TRANSLATED
(WITH NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS,)
FROM THE FRENCH EDITION OF THE WORK,
PUBLISHED AT AMSTERDAM, 1776.
RE-PUBLISHED BY
G. VALE, "BEACON" OFFICE, 3 FRANKLIN-SQUARE,
NEW-YORK:
1846.
NOTE BY THE AMERICAN PUBLISHER.
We publish this valuable work, for the reasons contained in the
following Note, of which we approve:--
NOTE BY THE BRITISH PUBLISHER.
The following little book I present to the reader without any
remarks on the different opinions relative to its antiquity; as the
subject is amply discussed in the body of the work, and constitutes
one of its most interesting and attractive features. The Edition
from which the present is translated was brought me from Paris by
a distinguished defender of Civil and Religious Liberty: and as my
friend had an anxiety from a thorough conviction of its interest and
value, to see it published in the English Language, I have from like
feelings brought it before the public; and I am convinced that it is
an excellent antidote to Superstition and Intolerance, and eminently
calculated to promote the cause of Freedom, Justice, and Morality.
J. MYLES.
PREFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR.
The Translator of the following little treatise deems it necessary to
say a few words as to the object of its publication. It is given to
the world, neither with a view to advocate Scepticism, nor to spread
infidelity, but simply to vindicate the right of private judgment. No
human being is in a position to look into the heart, or to decide
correctly as to the creed or conduct of his fellow mortals; and the
attributes of the Deity are so far beyond the grasp of limited reason,
that man must become a God himself before he can comprehend them. Such
being the case, surely all harsh censure of each other's opinions and
actions ought to be abandoned; and every one should so train himself
as to be enabled to declare with the humane and manly philosopher
"<DW25> sum, nihil humania me alienum puto."
Dundee, September 1844.
CONTENTS OF THE PRELIMINARY DISSERTATION.
DISQUISITIONS on the book entitled "The Three Impostors."
ANSWER to the dissertation of M. de la Monnoye on the work entitled
"The Three Impostors."
COPY of Part 2d, Vol. 1., Article ix. of "Literary Memoirs," published
at the Hague by Henry du Sauzet, 1716.
DISQUISITIONS
ON THE BOOK ENTITLED
THE THREE IMPOSTORS.
It has long been a disputed point if there was at anytime a book
printed and bearing the title of "The Three Impostors."
M. de la Monnoye, having been informed that a learned German [1]
intended to publish a dissertation the object of which was to prove
that this work had really been printed, wrote a letter, in refutation,
to one of his friends; this letter was given by M. Bayle to M. Basnage
de Bauval, who in February 1694, gave an extract from it in his
"History of the works of celebrated and learned men." At a later
period M. de la Monnoye entered more fully into the subject, in a
letter dated at Paris 16th of June, 1712, and addressed to President
Bouhier, in which letter, he says, will be found an abridged but
complete account of this remarkable book.
He condemns at once the opinion of those who attribute the work
to the Emperor Frederick. The false charge, he says, took its rise
from a passage in the appendix to a discourse concerning Antichrist,
and published by Grotius, wherein he speaks as follows [2]: "Far
be it from me to attribute the book called 'The Three Impostors,'
either to the Pope, or to the opponents of the Pope; long ago the
enemies of the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa set abroad the report
of such a book, as having been written by his command; but from that
period nobody has seen it; for which reason I consider it apocryphal."
Colomiez quotes this, page 28 of his "Historical Miscellanies;"
but he adds that there are some blunders--that it was not Frederick
I. (Barbarossa,) on whom they intended to fix the authorship,
but Frederick II. his grandson. This he says, is apparent from the
letters of Pierre des Vignes, the secretary and chancellor of the
second Frederick, and from Matthew Paris; inasmuch as they record,
that this monarch was blamed for having said that the world had been
led aside by "Three Impostors;" but by no means that he had written a
book having such a title. The Emperor denied in the strongest terms,
that he ever made use of any expression to that effect. He detested
the blasphemy with which they charged him, and declared that it was
an atrocious calumny; more shame to Lipsius and other writers who
have condemned him without sufficiently looking into the evidences.
Averroes, nearly a century previous, had jeered at the three religions,
saying [3]; that "the Jewish religion was a law for children; the
Christian religion a law which it was impossible to follow; and the
Mahometan religion a law in favor of swine." [4]
Since then, many people have written with great freedom on this
same subject.
We read in the works of Thomas de Catimpre, that M. Simon de Tournay
had said that "Three Seducers"--Moses, Jesus Christ, and Mahomet,
had "mystified mankind with their doctrines." This is evidently
the M. Simon de Churnay, of whom Matthew Paris relates some other
improprieties, and the same individual whom Polydore Virgil styles
de Turwai, the orthography in both instances having been mismanaged.
Amongst the manuscripts of the Abbe Colbert's library, obtained
possession of by our sovereign in 1732, there is one numbered 2071,
written by Alvaro Pelagius, a Spaniard of the Cordelian order,
bishop of Salves and Algarve, and well known on account of his work,
"The Lamentation of the Church." He states that an individual named
Scotus, of the same order as himself and a Jacobin, was at that time a
prisoner at Lisbon on a charge of blasphemy. Scotus, it would appear,
had said that he considered Moses, Jesus Christ and Mahomet as "Three
Impostors;" for that, the first had deceived the Jews; the second
the Christians; and the third the Saracens. [5]
Gabriel Barlette, in his sermon upon St. Andrew, alludes to Porphyry
in this way; "and therefore the notion of Porphyry is absurd, when
he says that there had existed three individuals who had turned
over the world to their own opinions; the first being Moses amongst
the Jewish people--the second Mahomet, and the third Christ." [6]
A strange chronologist to stamp the era of Christ and Porphyry after
that of Mahomet!
The Manuscripts of the Vatican, quoted by Odomir Rainoldo in the
nineteenth volume of his Ecclesiastical Annals, mention one Jeannin
de Solcia, a canon at Bergame, a doctor of civil and canon law,
known from a decree of Pope Pius II., as Javinus de Solcia. He
was condemned on the 14th November 1459 for having maintained this
impiety--that Moses, Jesus Christ, and Mahomet had ruled the world
at their pleasure. "Mundum pro suarem libito voluntatum rexisse."
John Louis Vivaldo de Mondovi, who wrote in 1506, and amongst whose
works there is a treatise on "The Twelve persecutions of the Church
of God," says, in his chapter upon the sixth persecution, that there
were people who dared to dispute, which of the three law-givers had
been most followed, Jesus Christ, Moses, or Mahomet. [7]
Herman Ristwyk, a Dutchman, burned at the Hague in 1512, sneered at
the Jewish and Christian religions. He does not speak of the Mahometan
creed; but a man who could regard Moses and Jesus Christ as impostors,
could entertain no better opinion of Mahomet.
Now we must turn to an author, name unknown, but accused of
blasphemy against Jesus Christ. The charge was founded upon some
papers discovered at Geneva in 1547, amongst the documents belonging
to M. Gruet. An Italian, named Fausto da Longiano, had begun a work
which he entitled "The Temple of Truth," in which he undertakes
no less than to overturn all religions. "I have," he says, "begun
another work entitled 'The Temple of Truth.' It is probable that I may
divide it into thirty books. In this work will be found the extinction
of all sects--Jews, Christian, Mahometan, and other superstitions;
and matters will be brought back to their first principles."
Now, amongst the letters of Aretino addressed to Fausto, there is
not one to be met with which alludes in any way whatever to this
work. Perhaps it had never been written, and although it had been
published, it must have been a very different book from the one in
question; of which, they pretend that there are some copies in the
libraries in Germany, printed in folio, and written in High Dutch.
Claude Beauregard, better known under his Latin appellation
Berigardus, a professor of philosophy, first at Paris, next at Pisa,
and latterly at Padua, quotes or forges a passage from the work,
"The Three Impostors," in which the miracles which Moses performed in
Egypt are attributed to the superiority of his demon [8] over that
of the Magicians of Pharoah. Giordano Bruno who was burned at Rome,
17th Feb. 1600, was accused of having advanced something much to the
same effect. But although Beauregard and Bruno have indulged in such
reveries, and have thought proper to assert that they quoted from
the work in question, is this a certain proof that they had read
the book? If so they would doubtless have stated whether it was in
manuscript, or in print, and referred to the size and the place where
they found it.
Tentzelius, trusting to one of his friends, a pretended ocular witness,
gives a description of the book, and specifies the number of leaves
and sheets; and attempting to prove in chap. III. of his work that
the ambition of legislators is the only source of all religions,
he gives as examples Moses, Jesus Christ, and Mahomet. Struvius,
after Tentzelius, enters into the same subject, but finding nothing
but what a clever fabulist might invent, he seems much inclined to
disbelieve in the existence of the book.
A journalist at Leipsic, in his "acta eruditarum," dated Jan. 1709,
pp. 36 and 37, gives the following extract from a letter addressed to
him: "Having occasion to be in Saxony I saw, in the Library of M...,
a book entitled "The Three Impostors." It is an 8vo volume, in Latin,
without the name of the printer or the date of its publication;
but to judge from the letter it appears to have been published in
Germany. It was to no purpose that I tried to obtain permission to
read the whole work. The proprietor of the book, a man of sensitive
piety, would not consent to it. I have since learned that a celebrated
professor at Stuttgard had offered a great sum of money for the
volume. Shortly afterwards I went to Nuremberg, and in talking of
this work to M. Andre Mylhdorf, a man respectable alike for his
age, and from his learning, he assured me he had read it, and that
M. Wolfer a clergyman had lent it to him. From the manner in which
he spoke, I thought it might be a copy of the one alluded to above,
and I concluded that it was unquestionably the book referred to;
but not that it was in octavo, nor of so old a date, nor perhaps so
accurate." The writer of the foregoing was able to throw more light
upon the subject and ought to have done so; for it is not enough to
say that he had seen the book--he must produce evidence that he had
seen it, otherwise he ought to be classed with those who promulgate
opinions founded on mere report; in which category we must include
all the authors to whom reference is made in this disquisition.
The first who makes mention of the book as it existed in 1543,
is William Postel, in his treatise on the agreement of the Alcoran
with the doctrines of the Lutherans or the Evangelists. He calls
the work "Anevangelistes," and attempts in it to bring the Lutheran
doctrines into utter disrepute by proving that they lead straightway
to Atheism. To support his argument he instances three or four
productions written, as he says, by Atheists, whom he declares to have
been the first disciples of this new Gospel. He adds, "my opinion
can be vindicated by reference to an infamous pamphlet written by
Villanovanus relative to three works respectively entitled 'The Cymbal
of the World,' 'Pantagruel,' and the 'New Islands;' the authors of
which works were the standard-bearers of the Atheistical party."
This Villanovanus, whom Postel asserts to be the author of the book
"The Three Impostors," was Michel Servetus the son of a notary,
born in 1509, at Villanueva in Aragon, who assumed the name of
Villanovanus, in a preface to a Bible which was printed for him
at Lyons, 1542, by Hugues de la Porte. In France his designation
was Villeneuve, under which title he was impeached, after he had
published at Vienna, in Dauphiny, 1553, (the year before his death)
the work entitled "Christianity restored;" a book extremely rare,
on account of the trouble which they took at Geneva to find out the
copies of the work and get them burned. In the authentic list of the
writings of Servetus, however, we do not find mention made of "The
Three Impostors." Neither Calvin nor Beza, nor Alexander Morus, nor
any other defender of the Huguenot party who wrote against Servetus,
and whose interest it was to justify his punishment, and to convict
him of having written this work, has laid it to his charge. Postel,
an ex-Jesuit, was the first to do so, without grounds.
Florimond de Remond, a councillor in the Senate at Bordeaux, writes
decidedly that he had seen this book in print. His words are;
"James Curio, in his Chronology 1556, asserts that the Palatinate
was filled with scoffers at religion, the Lievanistes, viz. a sect
who considered the Sacred Writings as fabulous, and more especially
those of Moses, the great Lawgiver of God. Is there not a book, 'The
Three Impostors,' defaming the three religions which alone acknowledge
the true God--the Jewish, the Christian, and the Mahometan?--a book
composed in Germany, but printed elsewhere at the exact moment when
these heretics are employing this individual to spread abroad their
doctrines? The very title shows the character of the age which has
dared to publish so impious a treatise. I would have referred to
it unless Osius and Genebrard had spoken to me on the subject. I
recollect that in my earlier days I saw a copy of this work at the
College of Presle. It belonged to Ramus, a man distinguished for his
extraordinary learning, and who was then employed in deep researches
into the mysteries connected with religious belief; which subject he
intended to treat in a philosophical manner. At this time they were
circulating this iniquitous work amongst the learned, who were very
desirous to see it." A curious inquirer into secrets!
Everybody knows Florimond de Remond as an insignificant
scribbler. There are three remarkable sayings in currency against him;
that "he built without money, that he was a judge without principle,
and an author without knowledge. [9]" We know also that he always lent
his name to P. Richeaume, a Jesuite much hated by the Protestants,
who cloaked his own name by assuming that of the councillor of
Bordeaux. Now, if Osius and Genebrard had spoken as decidedly as
Florimond de Remond, there might have been somewhat to rest upon;
but see what Genebrard says in the thirty-ninth page of his answer
to Lambert Danan, printed (octavo) at Paris 1581. [10] "They (his
own party) have not driven Blandratus, nor Alciatus, nor Ochinus
into Mahometanism; nor have they induced Valleus to profess himself
an Atheist; neither have they enticed any one whatever to circulate
the work called "The Three Impostors," wherein Christ the Lord is
alluded to as the second, the other two being Moses and Mahomet."
Is that the way to identify this impious book? and Genebrard, forsooth
had seen it! And can it be, that in the present day people will
attempt to get up regular proof to show that such a work exists? It
is a well known fact that, in all ages, many lies have been palmed
off in reference to books which could never be discovered, although
individuals declare that they had seen them and even went so far as
to mention the places where they had been favoured with their perusal.
It has been said that this work was in the library of M
| 736.293758 | 3,557 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.0089760
| 1,168 | 418 |
Produced by Brendan OConnor, Patricia Bennett, Jonathan
Ingram and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Library of Early
Journals.)
BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
No. CCCXXXVIII. DECEMBER, 1843. VOL. LIV.
Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected and footnotes moved
to the end of each article.
CONTENTS.
LECTURES AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY. 691
SOMETHING ABOUT MUSIC. 709
THE PURPLE CLOAK; OR, THE RETURN OF SYLOSON TO SAMOS. 714
LOVE AND DEATH. 717
THE BRIDGE OVER THE THUR. 717
THE BANKING-HOUSE. A HISTORY IN THREE PARTS. PART II. 719
COLLEGE THEATRICALS. 737
LINES WRITTEN IN THE ISLE OF BUTE. 749
TRAVELS OF KERIM KHAN. CONCLUSION. 753
NOTES ON A TOUR OF THE DISTURBED DISTRICTS IN WALES. 766
ADVENTURES IN TEXAS. NO. II. 777
DEATH FROM THE STING OF A SERPENT. 798
GIFTS OF TEREK. 799
MARSTON; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART VI. 801
INDEX TO VOL. LIV. 815
* * * * *
LECTURES AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY.
HENRY FUSELI.
At a time when the eye of the public is more remarkably, and we trust
more kindly, directed to the Fine Arts, we may do some service to the
good cause, by reverting to those lectures delivered in the Royal
Academy, composed in a spirit of enthusiasm honourable to the
professors, but which kindled little sympathy in an age strangely dead
to the impulses of taste. The works, therefore, which set forth the
principles of art, were not read extensively at the time, and had little
influence beyond the walls within which they were delivered. Favourable
circumstances, in conjunction with their real merit, have permanently
added the discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds to the standard literature
of our country. They have been transferred from the artist to the
scholar; and so it has happened, that while few of any pretension to
scholarship have not read the "The Discourses," they have not, as they
should have, been continually in the hands of artists themselves. To
awaken a feeling for this kind of professional reading--yet not so
professional as not to be beneficial--reflectingly upon classical
learning; indeed, we might say, education in general, and therefore more
comprehensive in its scope--we commenced our remarks on the discourses
of Sir Joshua Reynolds, which have appeared in the pages of Maga. There
are now more than symptoms of the departure of that general apathy which
prevailed, when most of the Academy lectures were delivered. It will be,
therefore, a grateful, and may we hope a useful, task, by occasional
notices to make them more generally known.
The successors of Reynolds labour under a twofold disadvantage; they
find that he has occupied the very ground they would have taken, and
written so ably and fully upon all that is likely to obtain a general
interest, as to leave a prejudice against further attempts. Of
necessity, there must be, in every work treating of the same subject,
much repetition; and it must require no little ingenuity to give a
novelty and variety, that shall yet be safe, and within the bounds of
the admitted principles of art. On this account, we have no reason to
complain of the lectures of Fuseli, which we now purpose to notice. Bold
and original as the writer is, we find him every where impressed with a
respect for Reynolds, and with a conviction of the truth of the
principles which he had collected and established. If there be any
difference, it is occasionally on the more debatable ground--particular
passages of criticism.
In the "Introduction," the student is supplied with a list of the
authorities he should consult for the "History and Progress of his Art."
He avoids expatiating on the books purely elementary--"the van of which
is led by Leonardo da Vinci and Albert Durer, and the rear by Gherard
Lavresse--as the principles which they detail must be supposed to be
already in the student's possession, or are occasionally interwoven with
the topics of the lectures;" and proceeds "to the historically critical
writers, who consist of all the ancients yet remaining, Pausanias
excepted." Fortunately, there remain a sufficient number of the
monuments of ancient art "to furnish us with their standard of style;"
for the accounts are so contradictory, that we should have little to
rely upon. The works of the ancient artists are all lost: we must be
content with the "hasty compilations of a warrior," Pliny, or the
"incidental remarks of an orator," (rhetor
| 736.328386 | 3,558 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.3538320
| 388 | 90 |
Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
GOSLINGS
By
J. D. BERESFORD
Author of "The Hampdenshire Wonder," etc.
London
William Heinemann
1913
BOOK I
THE NEW PLAGUE
I--THE GOSLING FAMILY
1
"Where's the gels gone to?" asked Mr Gosling.
"Up the 'Igh Road to look at the shops. I'm expectin' 'em in every
minute."
"Ho!" said Gosling. He leaned against the dresser; the kitchen was
hot with steam, and he fumbled for a handkerchief in the pocket of
his black tail coat. He produced first a large red bandanna with which
he blew his nose vigorously. "Snuff 'andkerchief; brought it 'ome to
be washed," he remarked, and then brought out a white handkerchief
which he used to wipe his forehead.
"It's a dirty 'abit snuff-taking," commented Mrs Gosling.
"Well, you can't smoke in the orfice," replied Gosling.
"Must be doin' somethin', I suppose?" said his wife.
When the recital of this formula had been accomplished--it was hallowed
by a precise repetition every week, and had been established now for
a quarter of a century--Gosling returned to the subject in hand.
"They does a lot of lookin' at shops," he said, "and then nothin' 'll
satisfy 'em but buyin' somethin'. Why don't they keep away from 'em
| 736.673242 | 3,559 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.4721050
| 997 | 375 |
Produced by David Edwards, Graeme Mackreth and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: ROBERT OVERHEARS AN IMPORTANT CONVERSATION.
_Frontispiece_]
OUT FOR BUSINESS
OR
_ROBERT FROST'S STRANGE CAREER_
BY
HORATIO ALGER, JR.
AUTHOR OF "FALLING IN WITH FORTUNE," "LUCK OR PLUCK,"
"THE YOUNG BOATMAN," "ONLY AN IRISH BOY,"
"YOUNG MINER," ETC.
COMPLETED BY
ARTHUR M. WINFIELD
AUTHOR OF "THE ROVER BOYS AT SCHOOL," "THE ROVER BOYS
ON THE OCEAN," "THE ROVER BOYS IN THE JUNGLE,"
"THE ROVER BOYS OUT WEST," ETC.
[Illustration]
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS :: :: NEW YORK
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE YOUNG BOOK AGENT;
Or, Frank Hardy's Road to Success.
FROM FARM TO FORTUNE;
Or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience.
LOST AT SEA;
Or, Robert Roscoe's Strange Cruise.
JERRY, THE BACKWOODS BOY;
Or, The Parkhurst Treasure.
NELSON, THE NEWSBOY;
Or, Afloat in New York.
YOUNG CAPTAIN JACK;
Or, The Son of a Soldier.
OUT FOR BUSINESS;
Or, Robert Frost's Strange Career.
FALLING IN WITH FORTUNE;
Or, The Experiences of a Young Secretary.
_12mo, finely illustrated and bound. Price per volume, 60 cents._
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY
THE MERSHON COMPANY
PREFACE.
"OUT FOR BUSINESS" is a complete tale in itself, but forms the first
of two companion stories, the second being entitled "Falling in with
Fortune."
In this tale are related the various haps and mishaps which befall a
sturdy country youth, of high moral aim, who, by the harsh actions of
his step-father, is compelled to leave what had once been the best of
homes, and go forth into the world to make his own way.
Robert Frost finds his path to fortune no easy one to tread. The thorns
of adversity line the way, and there is many a pitfall to be avoided.
But the lad is possessed of a good stock of hard, common sense, and in
the end we find him on the fair road to success--and a success richly
deserved.
The two stories, "Out for Business" and "Falling in with Fortune,"
give to the reader the last tales begun by that prince of juvenile
writers, Mr. Horatio Alger, Jr., whose books have sold to the extent
of hundreds of thousands of copies, not only in America, but also in
England and elsewhere. The gifted writer was stricken when on the point
of finishing the stories, and when he saw that he could not complete
them himself, it was to the present writer that he turned, and an
outline for a conclusion was drawn up which met with his approval,--and
it is this outline which has now been filled out in order to bring the
tales to a finish, so that both stories might be as nearly as possible
what Mr. Alger intended they should be. It may be that the stories will
not be found as interesting as if Mr. Alger had written them entirely,
nevertheless the present writer trusts that they will still hold the
reader's attention to the end.
ARTHUR M. WINFIELD.
March 1st, 1900.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A GREAT SURPRISE, 7
II. MR. TALBOT AND THE DOG, 15
III. THE LITTLE PLOT AGAINST ROBERT, 24
IV. MR. TALBOT IS MYSTIFIED, 33
V. A CRISIS, 42
VI. ON THE TRAIN, 51
VII. BAFFLED, 59
VIII. PERIL, 67
IX. AT THE PALMER HOUSE, 75
X. ROBERT GETS A PLACE, 83
| 736.791515 | 3,560 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.6045090
| 1,019 | 418 |
Produced by Sue Asscher. HTML version by Al Haines.
NOTES TO
THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
BY
MARY W. SHELLEY.
PREFACE BY MRS. SHELLEY
TO FIRST COLLECTED EDITION, 1839.
Obstacles have long existed to my presenting the public with a perfect
edition of Shelley's Poems. These being at last happily removed, I
hasten to fulfil an important duty,--that of giving the productions of a
sublime genius to the world, with all the correctness possible, and of,
at the same time, detailing the history of those productions, as they
sprang, living and warm, from his heart and brain. I abstain from any
remark on the occurrences of his private life, except inasmuch as the
passions which they engendered inspired his poetry. This is not the time
to relate the truth; and I should reject any colouring of the truth. No
account of these events has ever been given at all approaching reality
in their details, either as regards himself or others; nor shall I
further allude to them than to remark that the errors of action
committed by a man as noble and generous as Shelley, may, as far as he
only is concerned, be fearlessly avowed by those who loved him, in the
firm conviction that, were they judged impartially, his character would
stand in fairer and brighter light than that of any contemporary.
Whatever faults he had ought to find extenuation among his fellows,
since they prove him to be human; without them, the exalted nature of
his soul would have raised him into something divine.
The qualities that struck any one newly introduced to Shelley
were,--First, a gentle and cordial goodness that animated his
intercourse with warm affection and helpful sympathy. The other, the
eagerness and ardour with which he was attached to the cause of human
happiness and improvement; and the fervent eloquence with which he
discussed such subjects. His conversation was marked by its happy
abundance, and the beautiful language in which he clothed his poetic
ideas and philosophical notions. To defecate life of its misery and its
evil was the ruling passion of his soul; he dedicated to it every power
of his mind, every pulsation of his heart. He looked on political
freedom as the direct agent to effect the happiness of mankind; and thus
any new-sprung hope of liberty inspired a joy and an exultation more
intense and wild than he could have felt for any personal advantage.
Those who have never experienced the workings of passion on general and
unselfish subjects cannot understand this; and it must be difficult of
comprehension to the younger generation rising around, since they cannot
remember the scorn and hatred with which the partisans of reform were
regarded some few years ago, nor the persecutions to which they were
exposed. He had been from youth the victim of the state of feeling
inspired by the reaction of the French Revolution; and believing firmly
in the justice and excellence of his views, it cannot be wondered that a
nature as sensitive, as impetuous, and as generous as his, should put
its whole force into the attempt to alleviate for others the evils of
those systems from which he had himself suffered. Many advantages
attended his birth; he spurned them all when balanced with what he
considered his duties. He was generous to imprudence, devoted to
heroism.
These characteristics breathe throughout his poetry. The struggle for
human weal; the resolution firm to martyrdom; the impetuous pursuit, the
glad triumph in good; the determination not to despair;--such were the
features that marked those of his works which he regarded with most
complacency, as sustained by a lofty subject and useful aim.
In addition to these, his poems may be divided into two classes,--the
purely imaginative, and those which sprang from the emotions of his
heart. Among the former may be classed the "Witch of Atlas", "Adonais",
and his latest composition, left imperfect, the "Triumph of Life". In
the first of these particularly he gave the reins to his fancy, and
luxuriated in every idea as it rose; in all there is that sense of
mystery which formed an essential portion of his perception of life--a
clinging to the subtler inner spirit, rather than to the outward form--a
curious and metaphysical anatomy of human passion and perception.
The second class is, of course, the more popular, as appealing at once
to emotions common to us all; some of these rest on the passion of love;
others on grief and despond
| 736.923919 | 3,561 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.6909870
| 4,080 | 75 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)
[Transcriber's Note: Underscores are used as delimiter for _italics_]
GIBRALTAR
[Illustration: THE ALAMEDA PARADE.]
GIBRALTAR
BY
Henry M. Field
_ILLUSTRATED_
LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, Limited.
1889.
[_All rights reserved._]
TROW'S
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
NEW YORK.
To My Friend and Neighbor
IN THE BERKSHIRE HILLS,
JOSEPH H. CHOATE,
WHO FINDS IT A RELIEF NOW AND THEN
TO TURN FROM THE HARD LABORS OF THE LAW
TO THE ROMANCE OF TRAVEL:
I SEND AS A CHRISTMAS PRESENT
A STORY OF FORTRESS AND SIEGE
THAT MAY BEGUILE A VACANT HOUR
AS HE SITS BEFORE HIS WINTER EVENING FIRE.
PREFACE.
The common tour in Spain does not include Gibraltar. Indeed it is not
a part of Spain, for, though connected with the Spanish Peninsula, it
belongs to England; and to one who likes to preserve a unity in his
memories of a country and people, this modern fortress, with its English
garrison, is not "in color" with the old picturesque kingdom of the
Goths and Moors. Nor is it on the great lines of travel. It is not
touched by any railroad, and by steamers only at intervals of days, so
that it has come to be known as a place which it is at once difficult
to get to and to get away from. Hence easy-going travellers, who are
content to take circular tickets and follow fixed routes, give Gibraltar
the go-by, though by so doing they miss a place that is unique in the
world--unique in position, in picturesqueness, and in history. That
mighty Rock, "standing out of the water and in the water," (as on the
day when the old world perished;) is one of the Pillars of Hercules,
that once marked the very end of the world; and around its base ancient
and modern history flow together, as the waters of the Atlantic mingle
with those of the Mediterranean. Like Constantinople, it is throned on
two seas and two continents. As Europe at its southeastern corner stands
face to face with Asia; at its southwestern it is face to face with
Africa: and these were the two points of the Moslem invasion. But here
the natural course of history was reversed, as that invasion began in
the West. Hundreds of years before the Turk crossed the Bosphorus, the
Moor crossed the Straits of Gibraltar. His coming was the signal of an
endless war of races and religions, whose lurid flames lighted up
the dark background of the stormy coast. The Rock, which was the
"storm-centre" of all those clouds of war, is surely worth the attention
of the passing traveller. That it has been so long neglected, is the
sufficient reason for an attempt to make it better known.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I. Entering the Straits, 1
II. Climbing the Rock, 12
III. The Fortifications, 18
IV. Round the Town, 29
V. Parade on the Alameda, and Presentation of Colors
to the South Staffordshire Regiment, 35
VI. The Society of Gibraltar, 48
VII. A Chapter of History--The Great Siege, 63
VIII. Holding a Fortress in a Foreign Country, 110
IX. Farewell to Gibraltar--Leaving for Africa, 128
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Alameda Parade, _Frontispiece_.
FACING PAGE
The Lion Couchant, 4
General View of the Rock, 12
The Signal Station, 14
The New Mole and Rosia Bay, 19
The Saluting Battery, 27
Walk in the Alameda Gardens, 62
Catalan Bay, on the East Side of Gibraltar, 65
Plan of Gibraltar, 71
"Old Eliott," the Defender of Gibraltar, 108
Windmill Hill and O'Hara's Tower, 132
Europa Point, 143
CHAPTER I.
ENTERING THE STRAITS.
I heard the last gun of the Old Year fired from the top of the Rock,
and the first gun of the New. It was the very last day of 1886 that we
entered the Straits of Gibraltar. The sea was smooth, the sky was clear,
and the atmosphere so warm and bright that it seemed as if winter had
changed places with summer, and that in December we were breathing the
air of June.
On a day like this, when the sea is calm and still, groups of travellers
sit about on the deck, watching the shores on either hand. How near they
come to each other, only nine miles dividing the most southern point of
Europe from the most northern point of Africa! Perhaps they once came
together, forming a mountain chain which separated the sea from the
ocean. But since the barrier was burst, the waters have rushed through
with resistless power. Looking over the side of the ship, we observe
that the current is setting eastward, which would not excite surprise
were it not that it never turns back. The Mediterranean is a tideless
sea: it does not ebb and flow, but pours its mighty volume ceaselessly
in the same direction. This, the geographers tell us, is a provision
of nature to supply the waste caused by the greater evaporation at the
eastern end of the Great Sea. But this satisfies us only in part,
since while this current flows on the surface, there is another, though
perhaps a feebler, current flowing in the opposite direction. Down
hundreds or fathoms deep, a hidden Gulf Stream is pouring back into
the bosom of the ocean. This system of the ocean currents is one of the
mysteries which we do not fully understand. It seems as if there were
a spirit moving not only upon the waters, but in the waters; as if the
great deep were a living organism, of which the ebb and flow were like
the circulation of the blood in the human frame. Or shall we say that
this upper current represents the Stream of Life, which might seem to be
over-full were it not that far down in the depths the excess of Life is
relieved by the black waters of Death that are flowing darkly beneath?
Turning from the sea to the shore, on our left is Tarifa, the most
southern point of Spain and of Europe--a point far more picturesque than
the low, wooded spit of land that forms the most southern point of
Asia, which the "globe-trotter" rounds as he comes into the harbor of
Singapore, for here the headland that juts into the sea is crowned by a
Moorish castle, on the ramparts of which, in the good old times of the
Barbary pirates, sentinels kept watch of ships that should attempt to
pass the Straits from either direction: for incomers and outgoers
alike had to lower their flags, and pay tribute to those who counted
themselves the rightful lords of this whole watery realm. I wonder that
the Free-Traders do not ring the changes on the fact that the very word
_tariff_ is derived from this ancient stronghold, at which the mariners
of the Middle Ages paid "duties" to the robbers of the sea. If both
sides of the Straits of Gibraltar were to-day, as they once were, under
the control of the same Moslem power, we might have two castles--one in
Europe and one in Africa--like the "Castles of Europe and Asia," that
still guard the Dardanelles, at which all ships of commerce are required
to stop and report before they can pass; while ships-of-war carrying
too many guns, cannot pass at all without special permission from
Constantinople.
But the days of the sea-robbers are ended, and the Mediterranean is free
to all the commerce of the world. The Castle of Tarifa is still kept
up, and makes a picturesque object on the Spanish coast, but no corsair
watches the approach of the distant sail, and no gun checks her speed;
every ship--English, French, or Spanish--passes unmolested on her way
between these peaceful shores. Instead of the mutual hatred which once
existed between the two sides of the Straits, they are in friendly
intercourse, and to-day, under these smiling skies, Spain looks love to
Barbary, and Barbary to Spain.
While thus turning our eyes landward and seaward, we have been rounding
into a bay, and coming in sight of a mighty rock that looms up grandly
before us. Although it was but the middle of the afternoon, the winter
sun hung low, and striking across the bay outlined against the sky the
figure of a lion couchant--a true British lion, not unlike those in
Trafalgar Square in London, only that the bronze is changed to stone,
and the figure carved out of a mountain! But the lion is there, with his
kingly head turned toward Spain, as if in defiance of his former master,
every feature bearing the character of leonine majesty and power. That
is Gibraltar!
It is a common saying that "some men achieve greatness, and some have
greatness thrust upon them." The same may be said of places; but here
is one to which both descriptions may be applied--that has had greatness
thrust upon it by nature, and has achieved it in history. There is not
a more picturesque spot in Europe. The Rock is fourteen hundred feet
high--more than three times as high as Edinburgh Castle, and not, like
that, firm-set upon the solid ground, but rising out of the seas--and
girdled with the strongest fortifications in the world. Such greatness
has nature thrust upon Gibraltar. And few places have seen more history,
as few have been fought over more times than this in the long wars of
the Spaniard and the Moor; for here the Moor first set foot in Europe,
and gave name to the place (Gibraltar being merely Gebel-el-Tarik, the
mountain of Tarik, the Moorish invader), and here departed from it,
after a conflict of nearly eight hundred years.
[Illustration: THE LION COUCHANT.]
The steamer anchors in the bay, half a mile from shore, and a boat takes
us off to the quay, where after being duly registered by the police, we
are permitted to pass under the massive arches, and through the heavy
gates of the double line of fortifications, and enter Waterport Street,
the one and almost only street of Gibraltar, where we find quarters in
that most comfortable refuge of the traveller, the Royal Hotel, which,
for the period of our stay, is to be our home.
When I stepped on shore I was among strangers: even the friend who had
been my companion through Spain had remained in Cadiz, since in coming
under the English flag I had no longer need of a Spanish interpreter,
and I felt a little lonely; for inside these walls there was not a human
being, man or woman, whom I had ever seen before. Yet one who has been
knocked about the world as I have been, soon makes himself at home,
and in an hour I had found, if not a familiar face, at least a familiar
name, which gave me a right to claim acquaintance. Readers whose
memories run back thirty years to the laying of the first Atlantic Cable
in 1858, may recall the fact that the messages from Newfoundland were
signed by an operator who bore the singular name of De Sauty, and when
the pulse of the old sea-cord grew faint and fluttering, as if it were
muttering incoherent phrases before it drew its last breath, we were
accustomed to receive daily messages signed "All right: De Sauty!" which
kept up our courage for a time, until we found that "All right" was "All
wrong." The circumstance afforded much amusement at the time, and Dr.
Holmes wrote one of his wittiest poems about it, in which the refrain
of every verse was "All right: De Sauty!" Well, the message was true,
at least in one sense, for De Sauty was all right, if the cable was not.
The cable died, but the stout-hearted operator lived, and is at this
moment the manager of the Eastern Telegraph Company in Gibraltar. This
is one of those great English companies, which have their centre in
London, and whose "lines have" literally "gone out through all the
earth." Its "home field" is the Mediterranean, from which it reaches out
long arms down the Red Sea to India and Australia, and indeed to all the
Eastern world. Its General Manager is Sir James Anderson, who commanded
the Great Eastern when she laid the cable successfully in 1866. I had
crossed the ocean with him in '67, and now, wishing to do me a good
turn, he had insisted on my taking a letter to all their offices on both
sides of the Mediterranean, to transmit my messages free! This was a
pretty big license; his letter was almost like one of Paul's epistles
"to the twelve tribes scattered abroad, greeting." It contained a sort
of general direction to make myself at home in all creation!
With such an introduction I felt at home in the telegraph office in
Gibraltar, and especially when I could take by the hand our old friend
De Sauty. He has a hearty grip, which speaks for the true Englishman
that he is. If any of my countrymen had supposed that he died with the
cable, I am happy to say that he not only "still lives," but is very
much alive. He at once sent off to London a message to my friends in
America--a good-bye for the old year, which brought me the next morning
a greeting for the new.
From the telegraph office I took my way to that of the American
Consul, who gave me a welcome such as I could find in no other house in
Gibraltar, since his is the only American family! When I asked after my
countrymen (who, as they are going up and down in the earth, and show
themselves everywhere, I took for granted must be here), he answered
that there was "not one!" He is not only the official representative of
our country, but he and his children the only Americans. This being
so, it is a happy circumstance that the Great Republic is so well
represented; for a better man than Horatio J. Sprague could not be found
in the two hemispheres. He is the oldest Consul in the service, having
been forty years at this post, where his father, who was appointed by
General Jackson, was Consul before him. He received _his_ appointment
from President Polk. Through all these years he has maintained the
honor of the American name, and to-day there is not within the walls of
Gibraltar a man--soldier or civilian--who is more respected than this
solitary representative of our country.
Some may think there is not much need of a Consul where there are no
Americans, and yet nearly five hundred ships sailed from this port last
year for America: pity that he should have to confess that very few
bore the American flag! Thus the post is a responsible one, and at times
involves duties the most delicate and difficult, as in the late war,
when the Sumter was lying here, with three or four American ships
off the harbor (for they were not permitted to remain in port but
twenty-four hours) to prevent her escape. At that time the Consul was
constantly on the watch, only to see the privateer get off at last by
the transparent device of taking out her guns, and being sold to an
English owner, who immediately hoisted the English flag, and put to
sea in broad daylight in the face of our ships, and made her way to
Liverpool, where she was fitted out as a blockade-runner!
Those were trying days for expatriated Americans. However, it was all
made up when Peace came, and Peace with Victory--with the Union restored
and the country saved. Since then it has been the privilege of the
Consul at Gibraltar to welcome many who took part in the great struggle,
among them Generals Grant and Sherman and Admiral Farragut. Of course a
soldier is always interested in a fortress, for it is in the line of
his profession; and the greatest fortification in the world could but be
regarded with a curious eye by old soldiers like those who had led our
armies for four years; who had conducted great campaigns, with long
marches and battles and sieges--battles among the bloodiest of modern
times, and one siege (that of Richmond) which lasted as long as the
famous siege of Gibraltar.
But perhaps no one felt a keener interest in what he saw here than the
old sea-dog, who had bombarded the forts at the mouth of the Mississippi
six days and nights; had broken the heavy iron boom stretched across the
river; and run his ships past the forts under a tremendous fire; only
to find still before him a fleet greater than his own, of twenty armed
steamers, four ironclad rams, and a multitude of fire-rafts, all
of which he attacked and destroyed, and captured New Orleans, an
achievement in naval warfare as great as any ever wrought by Nelson. To
Farragut Gibraltar was nothing more than a big ship, whose decks were
ramparts. Pretty long decks they were, to be sure, but only furnishing
so many more port-holes, and carrying so many more guns, and enabling
its commander to fire a more tremendous broadside.
Talking over these things fired my patriotic breast till I began to feel
as if I were in "mine ain countrie," and among my American kinsmen. And
as I walked from the Consul's back to the Royal Hotel, I did not feel
quite so lonely in Gibraltar as I felt an hour before.
As the afternoon wore away, the Spaniards who had come in from the
country to market, to buy or sell, began to disappear, and soon went
hurrying out,
| 737.010397 | 3,562 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.8025750
| 4,175 | 42 |
Produced by Al Haines.
MATINS
Francis Sherman
[Illustration: Title page decoration]
BOSTON
COPELAND AND DAY
MDCCCXCVI
COPYRIGHT 1896 BY COPELAND AND DAY
TO
MY FATHER
CONTENTS
At the Gate
A Life
At Matins
Ave
The Foreigner
Cadences
Easter-Song
The Rain
A Memory
Among the Hills
To Summer
The Path
The Last Flower
After Harvest
Heat in September
On the Hillside
Summer Dying
A November Vigil
Nunc Dimittis
Between the Battles
The Quiet Valley
The Kingfisher
The Conqueror
The King's Hostel
Between the Winter and the Spring
The Mother
The Window of Dreams
The Relief of Wet Willows
The Builder
Te Deum Laudamus
AT THE GATE
Swing open wide, O Gate,
That I may enter in
And see what lies in wait
For me who have been born!
Her word I only scorn
Who spake of death and sin.
I know what is behind
Your heavy brazen bars;
I heard it of the wind
Where I dwelt yesterday:
The wind that blows alway
Among the ancient stars.
Life is the chiefest thing
The wind brought knowledge of,
As it passed, murmuring:
Life, with its infinite strength,
And undiminished length
Of years fulfilled with love.
The wind spake not of sin
That blows among the stars;
And so I enter in
(Swing open wide, O Gate!)
Fearless of what may wait
Behind your heavy bars.
A LIFE
I.
_Let us rise up and live!_ Behold, each thing
Is ready for the moulding of our hand.
Long have they all awaited our command;
None other will they ever own for king.
Until we come no bird dare try to sing,
Nor any sea its power may understand;
No buds are on the trees; in every land
Year asketh year some tidings of some Spring.
Yea, it is time,--high time we were awake!
Simple indeed shall life be unto us.
What part is ours?--To take what all things give;
To feel the whole world growing for our sake;
To have sure knowledge of the marvellous;
To laugh and love.--_Let us rise up and live!_
II.
_Let us rule well and long_. We will build here
Our city in the pathway of the sun.
On this side shall this mighty river run;
Along its course well-laden ships shall steer.
Beyond, great mountains shall their crests uprear,
That from their sides our jewels may be won.
Let all you toil! Behold, it is well done;
Under our sway all far things fall and near!
All time is ours! _Let us rule long and well!_
So we have reigned for many a long, long day.
No change can come.... What hath that slave to tell,
Who dares to stop us on our royal way?
"O King, last night within thy garden fell,
From thine own tree, a rose whose leaves were gray."
III.
_Let us lie down and sleep!_ All things are still,
And everywhere doth rest alone seem sweet.
No more is heard the sound of hurrying feet
Athrough the land their echoes once did fill.
Even the wind knows not its ancient will,
For each ship floats with undisturbed sheet:
Naught stirs except the Sun, who hastes to greet
His handmaiden, the utmost western hill.
Ah, there the glory is! O west of gold!
Once seemed our life to us as glad and fair;
We knew nor pain nor sorrow anywhere!
O crimson clouds! O mountains autumn-stoled!
Across even you long shadows soon must sweep.
We too have lived. _Let us lie down and sleep!_
IV.
_Nay, let us kneel and pray!_ The fault was ours,
O Lord! No other ones have sinned as we.
The Spring was with us and we praised not thee;
We gave no thanks for Summer's strangest flowers.
We built us many ships, and mighty towers,
And held awhile the whole broad world in fee:
Yea, and it sometime writhed at our decree!
The stars, the winds,--all they were subject-powers.
All things we had for slave. We knew no God;
We saw no place on earth where His feet trod--
This earth, where now the Winter hath full sway,
Well shrouded under cold white snows and deep.
We rose and lived; we ruled; yet, ere we sleep,
O Unknown God,--_Let us kneel down and pray!_
AT MATINS
Because I ever have gone down Thy ways
With joyous heart and undivided praise,
I pray Thee, Lord, of Thy great loving-kindness,
Thou'lt make to-day even as my yesterdays!"
(At the edge of the yellow dawn I saw them stand,
Body and Soul; and they were hand-in-hand:
The Soul looked backward where the last night's blindness
Lay still upon the unawakened land;
But the Body, in the sun's light well arrayed,
Fronted the east, grandly and unafraid:
I knew that it was one might never falter
Although the Soul seemed shaken as it prayed.)
"O Lord" (the Soul said), "I would ask one thing:
Send out Thy rapid messengers to bring
Me to the shadows which about Thine altar
Are ever born and always gathering.
"For I am weary now, and would lie dead
Where I may not behold my old days shed
Like withered leaves around me and above me;
Hear me, O Lord, and I am comforted!"
"O Lord, because I ever deemed Thee kind"
(The Body's words were borne in on the wind);
"Because I knew that Thou wouldst ever love me
Although I sin, and lead me who am blind;
Because of all these things, hear me who pray!
Lord, grant me of Thy bounty one more day
To worship Thee, and thank Thee I am living.
Yet if Thou callest now, I will obey."
(The Body's hand tightly the Soul did hold;
And over them both was shed the sun's red gold;
And though I knew this day had in its giving
Unnumbered wrongs and sorrows manifold,
I counted it a sad and bitter thing
That this weak, drifting Soul must alway cling
Unto this Body--wrought in such a fashion
It must have set the gods, even, marvelling.
And, thinking so, I heard the Soul's loud cries,
As it turned round and saw the eastern skies)
"O Lord, destroy in me this new-born passion
For this that has grown perfect in mine eyes!
"O Lord, let me not see this thing is fair,
This Body Thou hast given me to wear,--
Lest I fall out of love with death and dying,
And deem the old, strange life not hard to bear!
"Yea, now, even now, I love this Body so--
O Lord, on me Thy longest days bestow!
O Lord, forget the words I have been crying,
And lead me where Thou thinkest I should go!"
(At the edge of the open dawn I saw them stand,
Body and Soul, together, hand-in-hand,
Fulfilled, as I, with strong desire and wonder
As they beheld the glorious eastern land;
I saw them, in the strong light of the sun,
Go down into the day that had begun;
I knew, as they, that night might never sunder
This Body from the Soul that it had won.)
AVE!
To-morrow, and a year is born again!
(To-day the first bud wakened 'neath the snow.)
Will it bring joys the old year did not know,
Or will it burthen us with the old pain?
Shall we seek out the Spring--to see it slain?
Summer,--and learn all flowers have ceased to grow?
Autumn,--and find it overswift to go?
(The memories of the old year yet remain.)
To-morrow, and another year is born!
(Love liveth yet, O Love, we deemed was dead!)
Let us go forth and welcome in the morn,
Following bravely on where Hope hath led.
(O Time, how great a thing thou art to scorn!)
O Love, we shall not be uncomforted!
THE FOREIGNER
He walked by me with open eyes,
And wondered that I loved it so;
Above us stretched the gray, gray skies;
Behind us, foot-prints on the snow.
Before us slept a dark, dark wood.
Hemlocks were there, and little pines
Also; and solemn cedars stood
In even and uneven lines.
The branches of each silent tree
Bent downward, for the snow's hard weight
Was pressing on them heavily;
They had not known the sun of late.
(Except when it was afternoon,
And then a sickly sun peered in
A little while; it vanished soon
And then they were as they had been.)
There was no sound (I thought I heard
The axe of some man far away)
There was no sound of bee, or bird,
Or chattering squirrel at its play.
And so he wondered I was glad.
--There was one thing he could not see;
Beneath the look these dead things had
I saw Spring eyes agaze at me.
CADENCES
(Mid-Lent)
The low, gray sky curveth from hill to hill,
Silent and all untenanted;
From the trees also all glad sound hath fled,
Save for the little wind that moaneth still
Because it deemeth Earth is surely dead.
For many days no woman hath gone by,
Her gold hair knowing, as of old,
The wind's caresses and the sun's kind gold;
--Perchance even she hath thought it best to die
Because all things are sad things to behold.
(Easter Morning)
She cometh now, with the sun's splendid shine
On face and limbs and hair!
Ye who are watching, have ye seen so fair
A Lady ever as this one is of mine?
Have ye beheld her likeness anywhere?
See, as she cometh unrestrained and fleet
Past the thrush-haunted trees,
How glad the lilies are that touch her knees!
How glad the grasses underneath her feet!
And how even I am yet more glad than these!
EASTER-SONG
Maiden, awake! For Christ is born again!
And let your feet disdain
The paths whereby of late they have been led.
Now Death itself is dead,
And Love hath birth,
And all things mournful find no place on earth.
This morn ye all must go another way
Than ye went yesterday.
Not with sad faces shall ye silent go
Where He hath suffered so;
But where there be
Full many flowers shall ye wend joyfully.
Moreover, too, ye must be clad in white,
As if the ended night
Were but your bridal-morn's foreshadowing.
And ye must also sing
In angel-wise:
So shall ye be most worthy in His eyes.
Maidens, arise! I know where many flowers
Have grown these many hours
To make more perfect this glad Easter-day;
Where tall white lilies sway
On slender stem,
Waiting for you to come and garner them;
Where banks of mayflowers are, all pink and white,
Which will Him well delight;
And yellow buttercups, and growing grass
Through which the Spring winds pass;
And mosses wet,
Well strown with many a new-born violet.
All these and every other flower are here.
Will ye not draw anear
And gather them for Him, and in His name,
Whom all men now proclaim
Their living King?
Behold how all these wait your harvesting!
Moreover, see the darkness of His house!
Think ye that He allows
Such glory of glad color and perfume,
But to destroy the gloom
That hath held fast
His altar-place these many days gone past?
For this alone these blossoms had their birth,--
To show His perfect worth!
Therefore, O Maidens, ye must go apace
To that strange garden-place
And gather all
These living flowers for His high festival.
For now hath come the long-desired day,
Wherein Love hath full sway!
Open the gates, O ye who guard His home,
His handmaidens are come!
Open them wide,
That all may enter in this Easter-tide!
Then, maidens, come, with song and lute-playing,
And all your wild flowers bring
And strew them on His altar; while the sun--
Seeing what hath been done--
Shines strong once more,
Knowing that Death hath Christ for conqueror.
THE RAIN
O ye who so unceasing praise the Sun;
Ye who find nothing worthy of your love
But the Sun's face and the strong light thereof;
Who, when the day is done,
Are all uncomforted
Unless the night be crowned with many a star,
Or mellow light be shed
From the ancient moon that gazeth from afar,
With pitiless calm, upon the old, tired Earth;
O ye to whom the skies
Must be forever fair to free your eyes
From mortal pain;--
Have ye not known the great exceeding worth
Of that soft peace which cometh with the Rain?
Behold! the wisest of you knows no thing
That hath such title to man's worshipping
As the first sudden day
The slumbrous Earth is wakened into Spring;
When heavy clouds and gray
Come up the southern way,
And their bold challenge throw
In the face of the frightened snow
That covereth the ground.
What need they now the armies of the Sun
Whose trumpets now do sound?
Alas, the powerless Sun!
Hath he not waged his wars for days gone past,
Each morning drawing up his cohorts vast
And leading them with slow and even paces
To assault once more the impenetrable places,
Where, crystal-bound,
The river moveth on with silent sound?
O puny, powerless Sun!
On the pure white snow where are the lightest traces
Of what thy forces' ordered ways have done?
On these large spaces
No footsteps are imprinted anywhere;
Still the white glare
Is perfect; yea, the snows are drifted still
On plain and hill;
And still the river knows the Winter's iron will.
Thou wert most wise, O Sun, to hide thy face
This day beneath the cloud's gray covering;
Thou wert most wise to know the deep disgrace
In which thy name is holden of the Spring.
She deems thee now an impotent, useless thing,
And hath dethroned thee from thy mighty place;
Knowing that with the clouds will come apace
The Rain, and that the rain will be a royal king.
A king?--Nay, queen!
For in soft girlish-wise she takes her throne
When first she cometh in the young Spring-season;
Gentle and mild,
Yet with no dread of any revolution,
And fearing not a land unreconciled,
And unafraid of treason.
In her dark hair
Lieth the snow's most certain dissolution;
And in her glance is known
The freeing of the rivers from their chainings;
And in her bosom's strainings
Earth's teeming breast is tokened and foreshown.
Behold her coming surely, calmly down,
Where late the clear skies were,
With gray clouds for a gown;
Her fragile draperies
Caught by the little breeze
Which loveth her!
She weareth yet no crown,
Nor is there any sceptre in her hands;
Yea, in all lands,
Whatever Spring she cometh, men know well
That it is right and good for her to come;
And that her least commands
Must be fulfilled, however wearisome;
And that they all must guard the citadel
Wherein she deigns to dwell!
And so, even now, her feet pass swiftly over
The impressionable snow
That vanisheth as woe
Doth vanish from the rapt face of a lover,
Who, after doubting nights, hath come to know
His lady loves him so!
(Yet not like him
Doth the snow bear the signs of her light touch!
It is all gray in places, and looks worn
With some most bitter pain;
As he shall look, perchance,
Some early morn
While yet the dawn is dim,
When he awakens from the enraptured trance
In which he, blind, hath lain,
And knows that also he hath loved in vain
The lady who, he deemed, had loved him much.
And though her utter worthlessness is plain
He hath no joy of his deliverance,
But only asketh God to let him die,--
And getteth no reply.)
Yea, the snows fade before the calm strength of the rain!
And while the rain is unabated,
Well-heads are born and streams created
On the hillsides, and set a-flowing
Across the fields. The river, knowing
That there hath surely come at last
Its freedom, and that frost is past,
Gathereth force to break its chains;
The river's faith is in the Spring's unceasing rains!
See where the shores even now were firmly bound
The slowly widening water showeth black,
As from the fields and meadows all around
Come rushing over the dark and snowless ground
The foaming streams!
Beneath the ice the shoulders of the tide
Lift, and from shore to shore a thin, blue crack
Starts, and the dark, long-hidden water gleams,
Glad to be free.
And now the uneven rift is growing wide;
The breaking ice is fast becoming gray;
It hears the loud beseeching
| 737.121985 | 3,563 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.8893440
| 997 | 420 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Hunchback of Westminster
By William Le Queux
Published by Methuen & Co, 36 Essex Street, London WC.
This edition dated 1904.
The Hunchback of Westminster, by William Le Queux.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
THE HUNCHBACK OF WESTMINSTER, BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX.
PREFACE.
A Word Before Reading.
For many years I have busied myself making a collection of rare and
valuable historical documents, and strange indeed are some of the
stories and scandals which these ancient, crinkled parchments whisper to
me in my hours of leisure.
In France, in Italy, in Russia, in Germany, in Belgium, in all corners
of England, this craze of mine has led me, through many adventures, free
but captive; and, looking back now, I realise that it has been really
through this little-known hobby of mine, the hobby of palaeography, that
there have come some of the most suggestive and magical hours I have
ever spent in a wandering, erratic life that has never been wholly free
from movement, but has often held its time of danger and its resistless,
restless passion for change, romance, and adventure.
Perhaps, then, it is not really wonderful that this love of mine for the
records of the dead-and-gone ages colours my later stories. Yet, in a
sense, it would be strangely odd if it did not, for when an author hears
so weird and thrilling a narrative of hidden treasure as this I have
here striven to recount it would surely be more than human of him to
fail to put it into print.
This "Hunchback of Westminster" is really no idle fiction spun for the
entertainment of an idle hour. In many ways, indeed, it is tragically
true--particularly that portion which tells how men only a few months
ago in this prosaic London of ours fought for a certain treasure worth
several millions of pounds.
William Le Queux.
CHAPTER ONE.
HOW DON JOSE BAITED HIS TRAP.
It was in the second year of my practice as a private detective that
young Jose Casteno came to my office in Stanton Street, WC, and
entrusted me with that strange and terrible mission in regard to which I
have really hesitated, in all sincerity, for some days before I could
actually nerve myself to take the public into my confidence.
Up to that time, I remember, my big brass plate, with the legend "Mr
Hugh Glynn, Secret Investigator," had only succeeded in drawing a very
average and ordinary amount of business. True, I had had several
profitable cases in which wives wanted to know what happened to their
husbands when they didn't come home at the usual hours, and employers
were anxious to discover certain leakages through which had disappeared
a percentage of their cash; but for the most part my work had been
shockingly humdrum, and already I had begun to regret the whim that had
prompted me, after reading certain latter-day romances, to throw up my
career as a barrister in Gray's Inn to emulate the romancer's heroes in
real life.
Indeed, at the rate of progress I was making then, I calculated that it
would be exactly forty-seven and a half years before I could save 1000
pounds out of my expenses, and, with that as a nest-egg, dare to ask
pretty Doris Napier to marry me; and hence, as such long engagements
were no more fashionable then than they are now, I can assure you I
often felt a trifle despondent about my future.
Still, that was before Jose Casteno appeared on the scene in Stanton
Street, WC. Afterwards things, as you will see, were different.
Now, of course, there are always plenty of people who do not believe
that the great and wonderful things that happen in life come heralded by
a sky angry with the glow of blood or by a storm in which the wind seems
to range from end to end of the gamut of all human emotion, and to sob
and shriek and sigh as though it were possessed by some fugitive spirit
stricken with mortal pain. On the contrary, they argue, the biggest
things have the smallest beginnings, and hence one never knows what tiny
affair betokens crisis. As a matter of fact, I hadn't noticed, I own,
any peculiar association of sympathy between Man and Nature until this
particular night I write of, but then I do recollect very well it did so
happen that I was very late indeed at the office
| 737.208754 | 3,564 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.9258060
| 1,053 | 429 |
BOOKS***
Transcribed from the 1896 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
FAMILIAR STUDIES
OF
MEN AND BOOKS
BY
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
[Picture: Decorative graphic]
_ELEVENTH EDITION_
* * * * *
London
CHATTO & WINDUS, PICADILLY
1896
* * * * *
TO
THOMAS STEVENSON
CIVIL ENGINEER
BY WHOSE DEVICES THE GREAT SEA LIGHTS IN EVERY QUARTER
OF THE WORLD NOW SHINE MORE BRIGHTLY
THIS VOLUME IS IN LOVE AND GRATITUDE
DEDICATED BY HIS SON
THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
BY WAY OF CRITICISM.
THESE studies are collected from the monthly press. One appeared in the
_New Quarterly_, one in _Macmillan’s_, and the rest in the _Cornhill
Magazine_. To the _Cornhill_ I owe a double debt of thanks; first, that
I was received there in the very best society, and under the eye of the
very best of editors; and second, that the proprietors have allowed me to
republish so considerable an amount of copy.
These nine worthies have been brought together from many different ages
and countries. Not the most erudite of men could be perfectly prepared
to deal with so many and such various sides of human life and manners.
To pass a true judgment upon Knox and Burns implies a grasp upon the very
deepest strain of thought in Scotland,—a country far more essentially
different from England than many parts of America; for, in a sense, the
first of these men re-created Scotland, and the second is its most
essentially national production. To treat fitly of Hugo and Villon would
involve yet wider knowledge, not only of a country foreign to the author
by race, history, and religion, but of the growth and liberties of art.
Of the two Americans, Whitman and Thoreau, each is the type of something
not so much realised as widely sought after among the late generations of
their countrymen; and to see them clearly in a nice relation to the
society that brought them forth, an author would require a large habit of
life among modern Americans. As for Yoshida, I have already disclaimed
responsibility; it was but my hand that held the pen.
In truth, these are but the readings of a literary vagrant. One book led
to another, one study to another. The first was published with
trepidation. Since no bones were broken, the second was launched with
greater confidence. So, by insensible degrees, a young man of our
generation acquires, in his own eyes, a kind of roving judicial
commission through the ages; and, having once escaped the perils of the
Freemans and the Furnivalls, sets himself up to right the wrongs of
universal history and criticism. Now, it is one thing to write with
enjoyment on a subject while the story is hot in your mind from recent
reading, with recent prejudice; and it is quite another business
to put these writings coldly forth again in a bound volume. We are most
of us attached to our opinions; that is one of the “natural affections”
of which we hear so much in youth; but few of us are altogether free from
paralysing doubts and scruples. For my part, I have a small idea of the
degree of accuracy possible to man, and I feel sure these studies teem
with error. One and all were written with genuine interest in the
subject; many, however, have been conceived and finished with imperfect
knowledge; and all have lain, from beginning to end, under the
disadvantages inherent in this style of writing.
Of these disadvantages a word must here be said. The writer of short
studies, having to condense in a few pages the events of a whole
lifetime, and the effect on his own mind of many various volumes, is
bound, above all things, to make that condensation logical and striking.
For the only justification of his writing at all is that he shall present
a brief, reasoned, and memorable view. By the necessity of the case, all
the more neutral circumstances are omitted from his narrative; and that
of itself, by the negative exaggeration of which I have spoken in the
text, lends to the matter in hand a certain false and specious glitter.
By the necessity of the case, again, he is forced to view his subject
throughout in a particular illumination, like a studio artifice. Like
Hales with Pepys, he must nearly break his sitter’s neck to get the
| 737.245216 | 3,565 |
2023-11-16 18:28:03.9942310
| 2,935 | 47 |
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: "_HARRY'S BLOOD WAS UP._" p. 12]
CARRIED OFF
_A STORY OF PIRATE TIMES_
BY
ESME STUART
AUTHOR OF 'FOR HALF-A-CROWN' 'THE LAST HOPE'
'THE WHITE CHAPEL' ETC.
_WITH FOUR FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONDON
NATIONAL SOCIETY'S DEPOSITORY
BROAD SANCTUARY, WESTMINSTER
NEW YORK: THOMAS WHITTAKER, 2 & 3 BIBLE HOUSE
1888
_TO_
_CLARISSA AND JOHN_
_I dedicate this story, knowing they are already fond of travelling.
They may be glad to hear that the chief events in it are true, and are
taken out of an old book written more than two hundred years ago. Yet
they may now safely visit the West Indies without fear of being made
prisoners by the much dreaded Buccaneers._
_E.S._
[_All rights reserved_]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE SACRIFICE
II. CAPTURED
III. A BEAUTIFUL ISLAND
IV. THE PIRATES ARE COMING
V. THE SCOUTS
VI. HATCHING A PLOT
VII. TREACHERY
VIII. A BRAVE DEFENCE
IX. IMPRISONED
X. A FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN
XI. THE SECRET PASSAGE
XII. A NEW EXPEDITION
XIII. THE ESCAPE
XIV. DEFENCE TILL DEATH
XV. IN THE WOODS
XVI. WAITING FOR LUCK
XVII. DISCOVERED
XVIII. HUNTING A FUGITIVE
XIX. IN A LONELY SPOT
XX. SAVED
XXI. A BAG OF GOLD
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
'HARRY'S BLOOD WAS UP'
CARLO REFUSED ADMISSION (missing from book)
CARLO BEFORE CAPTAIN MORGAN
'SHALL WE LAND?' (missing from book)
CARRIED OFF.
CHAPTER I.
THE SACRIFICE.
It was a beautiful warm spring evening, and as the sun sank slowly in
the west it illuminated with quivering golden light the calm waters that
surrounded green, marshy Canvey Island, which lies opposite South
Benfleet, in the estuary of the Thames.
Harry Fenn had just come out of church, and, as was often his wont, he
ran up a slight hill, and, shading his eyes, looked intently out towards
Canvey and then yet more to his left, where Father Thames clasps hands
with the ocean.
The eminence on which young fair-haired Harry stood was the site of a
strong castle, built long ago by Haesten, the Danish rover, in which he
stowed away Saxon spoil and Saxon prisoners, till King Alfred came down
upon him, pulled down the rover's fortress, seized his wife and his two
sons, and relieved the neighbourhood of this Danish scourge. How often,
indeed, had the peaceful inhabitants trembled at the sight of the sea
robber's narrow war-vessels creeping up the creek in search of plunder!
Harry, however, was not thinking of those ancient days; his whole soul
and mind was in the present, in vague longings for action; full, too, of
young inquisitiveness as to the future, especially his own future, so
that he forgot why he had come to this spot, and did not even hear the
approach of the Rev. Mr. Aylett, who, having been listening to a tale of
distress from one of his parishioners at the end of the evening service,
had now come to enjoy the view from Haesten's hill. As he walked slowly
towards the immovable form of the boy, he could not help being struck by
the lad's graceful outline; the lithe, yet strongly built figure, the
well-balanced head, now thrown back as the eyes sought the distant
horizon; whilst the curly fair locks appeared to have been dashed
impatiently aside, and now were just slightly lifted by the evening
breeze; for Harry Fenn held his cap in his hand as he folded his arms
across his chest. He might have stood for the model of a young Apollo
had any artist been by, but art and artists were unknown things in South
Benfleet at that time.
Mr. Aylett shook his head as he walked towards the lad, even though a
smile of pleasure parted his lips as he noted the comeliness of his
young parishioner, whom he now addressed.
'Well, Harry, my boy, what may be the thoughts which are keeping you so
unusually still?' Harry started and blushed like a girl, and yet his
action was simple enough.
'Indeed, sir, I did not hear you. I--I came here to have a look at our
cows down on the marsh. Father----'
Mr. Aylett laughed good-humouredly.
'Am I to believe that that earnest look is all on account of the cattle,
Harry?' Harry felt at this moment as if he had told a lie, and had been
found out by Mr. Aylett, who was so good and clever that he could
almost, nay, sometimes did, tell one's thoughts.
'No, sir;' then, with a winning smile, the lad added, 'in truth I had
forgotten all about the cattle. I was dreaming of----'
'Of the future, Harry. Listen, did not those same thoughts run thus?
That it is dull work staying at home on the farm; that some of thy
relations in past days had famous times in our civil wars, and went to
battle and fought for the King, and that some even had been settlers in
the old days of Queen Bess, and that, when all is said and done, it
wants a great deal of self-denial to stay as thou art now doing,
cheering the declining years of thy good father and mother. Some such
thought I fancied I could read in your face, boy, when singing in the
choir just now. Was it so? I would have you use candour with me.'
Harry turned his cap round and round slowly in his hands. Mr. Aylett
was certainly a diviner of thoughts; but Harry was far too honest, and
of too good principle, to deny the truth. It was his honesty, as well
as his pluck and courage, that made him so dear to the clergyman, who
had taught the boy a great deal more learning than usually fell to the
lot of a yeoman's son in those days, even though Mr. Fenn farmed his own
land, was well-to-do, and could, had he so willed, have sent his son to
Oxford; but he himself had been reared on Pitsea Farm, had married
there, and there he had watched his little ones carried to the grave,
all but Harry. Yes, Harry was his all, his mother's darling, his
father's pride; the parson was welcome to teach him his duty to his
Church, his King and his country, and what more he liked, but no one
must part the yeoman from his only child.
And Harry knew this, and yet often and often his soul was moved with
that terribly strong desire for change and for a larger horizon, which,
so long as the world lasts, will take possession of high-spirited boys.
However, the lad was as good as he was brave; he knew that he must crush
down his desire, or at least that he must not show it to his parents;
but he did not try to resist the pleasure of indulging in thoughts of a
larger life, thoughts which Mr. Aylett guessed very easily, but which
would have made his father's hair stand on end. This evening Mr.
Aylett's face looked so kind that Harry's boyish reserve gave way, and
with rising colour he exclaimed:
'Oh, sir, I can't deny it; it is all true, that, and much more; just now
I had such dreadful thoughts. I felt that I must go out yonder, away and
away, and learn what the world is like; I felt that even father's sorrow
and mother's tears would not grieve me much, and that I must break loose
from here or die. I know it was wicked, and I will conquer the feeling,
but it seems as if the devil himself tempts me to forget my duty; and
worse,' added poor Harry, who having begun his confession thought he
would make a clean breast of it, 'I feel as if I must go straight to my
father and tell him I will not spend my life in minding cattle and
seeing after the labourers, and that after telling him, I would work my
way out into the big world without asking him for a penny. Sir, would
that be possible?'
Harry looked up with trembling eagerness, as if on this one frail chance
of Mr. Aylett's agreement depended his life's happiness; but the
clergyman did not give him a moment's hope.
'No, Harry, that is not possible, my lad. You are an only child. On
you depends the happiness of your parents. This sacrifice is asked of
you by God, and is it too hard a matter to give up your own will? Look
you, my dear Harry, I am not over-blaming you, nor am I thinking that
the crushing of this desire is not a difficult matter, but we who lived
through the late troublous times see farther than young heads, who are
easily persuaded to cozen their conscience according to their wishes.
And if you travelled, Harry, temptations and trials would follow too,
and be but troublesome companions; and further, there would be always a
worm gnawing at your heart when you thought of the childless old folks
at home. Believe me, Harry, even out in "the golden yonder," as some
one calls it, you would not find what you expect; there would be no joy
for you who had deprived those dependent on you of it. Take my advice,
boy, wait for God's own good time, and do not fall into strong distemper
of mind.'
Mr. Aylett paused and put a kind hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry did
not answer at once, but slowly his eyes turned away from the waters and
the golden sun, slowly they were bent upon the marshes where the cattle
were grazing, and then nearer yet to where Pitsea Manor Farm raised its
head above a plantation of elms and oaks. Then a great struggle went on
in the boy's mind; he remembered he was but sixteen years old, and that
many a year must most likely elapse before he became the owner of Pitsea
Farm and could do as he pleased, and that those years must be filled
with dull routine labour, where little room was left for any adventure
beyond fishing in the creek, or going over to Canvey Island to watch
when the high waves broke over the new embankments made by Joas
Croppenburg, the Dutchman, whose son still owned a third of the rich
marshland of the island as a recompense for his father's sea walls. But
young Joas used to tell tales of great Dutch sea fights and exploits,
which, if Harry made the sacrifice Mr. Aylett was asking him to make,
would but probe the wound of his desire, and so Croppenburg's stories
must also be given up.
Harry's courage, however, was not merely nominal, it was of the right
sort. The sacrifice he was asked to make was none the less great
because it was one not seen of men. He was to give up his will, the
hardest thing a man or a boy can do; but it needed only Mr. Aylett's
firm answer to show Harry that his duty was very plain, and that God
required this of him.
It was like taking a plunge into cold water, where it is the first
resolution that is the worst part of the action; suddenly, with a quick
lifting of his head, and a new hopeful light in his blue eyes very
different from the unsatisfied longing gaze of ten minutes ago, Harry
spoke, and as he did so his clenched hands and his whole demeanour told
plainly that the boy meant what he said.
'I will give it up, sir; as it is, the wishing brings me no happiness,
so I will even put the wishing to flight.'
Mr. Aylett grasped the lad's hand warmly.
'God bless you, Harry, you are a brave fellow. I am proud of you. Come
to me to-morrow, and I will show you a new book a friend has sent me;
or, better, walk back with me to the Vicarage.'
'I would willingly, sir,' said Harry quietly, 'but father bade me go to
the meadow and see if White Star should be driven in under shelter
to-night. Our man Fiske has met with an accident, so I promised to see
after White Star before sundown. She was a little sick this morning.'
'T
| 737.313641 | 3,566 |
2023-11-16 18:28:04.2059460
| 432 | 108 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Miss Heck's Thanksgiving Party or, Topsy Up to Date.
[Illustration]
By
IDA HAMILTON MUNSELL.
[Illustration]
Dedicated to
The Woman's Club
Of Evanston, Illinois.
MISS
HECK'S
THANKSGIVING
PARTY
OR
TOPSY
UP TO DATE
(Copyrighted by the Author.)
_To the Woman's club of Evanston_:
Devoted, as it is, to "mutual helpfulness in all the
affairs of life," and to a union of effort towards
attaining the "higher development of humanity," this
little brochure is dedicated by one of its members.
MISS HECK'S THANKSGIVING PARTY;
or, TOPSY
UP TO DATE
IDA HAMILTON MUNSELL, B. M.
Any person with but half an eye could recognize at a glance the
extraordinary character of Miss Myra Heck! And furthermore, if
novelists did not show such decided preferences for white-skinned
heroines, Miss Heck would long since have won the world-wide renown
which of right belongs to her. But, unfortunately, Miss Myra was
born of black parents away down in the sunny southland, and the dark
hue of skin and wisps of woolly curls which are characteristic of
the <DW64> race have descended upon their offspring. This is the more
unfortunate in that this daughter--now a young woman of twenty-four or
thereabouts--is possessed of really uncommon talents, while her brain
teems at all times with schemes worthy of a French diplomat; and were
she fair and dainty as to exterior, she would not now be occupying
the situation of "maid of all work" in the little town where we first
| 737.525356 | 3,567 |
2023-11-16 18:28:04.3482990
| 1,925 | 103 |
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Steven desJardins, and Distributed
Proofreaders
Bullets & Billets
By Bruce Bairnsfather
1916
TO MY OLD PALS,
"BILL," "BERT," AND "ALF,"
WHO HAVE SAT IN THE MUD WITH ME
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Landing at Havre--Tortoni's--Follow the tram lines--Orders
for the Front.
CHAPTER II
Tortuous travelling--Clippers and tablets--Dumped at a
siding--I join my Battalion.
CHAPTER III
Those Plugstreet trenches--Mud and rain--Flooded out--A
hopeless dawn.
CHAPTER IV
More mud--Rain and bullets--A bit of cake--"Wind up"--Night
rounds.
CHAPTER V
My man Friday--"Chuck us the biscuits"--Relieved--Billets.
CHAPTER VI
The Transport Farm--Fleeced by the Flemish--Riding--Nearing
Christmas.
CHAPTER VII
A projected attack---Digging a sap--An 'ell of a night--The
attack--Puncturing Prussians.
CHAPTER VIII
Christmas Eve--A lull in hate--Briton cum Boche.
CHAPTER IX
Souvenirs--A ride to Nieppe--Tea at H.Q.--Trenches once more.
CHAPTER X
My partial escape from the mud--The deserted village--My
"cottage."
CHAPTER XI
Stocktaking--Fortifying--Nebulous Fragments.
CHAPTER XII
A brain wave--Making a "funk hole"--Plugstreet Wood--Sniping.
CHAPTER XIII
Robinson Crusoe--That turbulent table.
CHAPTER XIV
The Amphibians--Fed-up, but determined--The gun parapet.
CHAPTER XV
Arrival of the "Johnsons"--"Where did that one go?"--The
First Fragment dispatched--The exodus--Where?
CHAPTER XVI
New trenches--The night inspection--Letter from the
_Bystander_.
CHAPTER XVII
Wulverghem--The Douve--Corduroy boards--Back at our farm.
CHAPTER XVIII
The painter and decorator--Fragments forming--Night on the
mud prairie.
CHAPTER XIX
Visions of leave--Dick Turpin--Leave!
CHAPTER XX
That Leave train--My old pal--London and home--The call of
the wild.
CHAPTER XXI
Back from leave--That "blinkin' moon"--Johnson 'oles--Tommy
and "frightfulness"--Exploring expedition.
CHAPTER XXII
A daylight stalk--The disused trench--"Did they see me?"--A
good sniping position.
CHAPTER XXIII
Our moated farm--Wulverghem--The Cure's house--A shattered
Church--More "heavies"--A farm on fire.
CHAPTER XXIV
That ration fatigue--Sketches in request--Bailleul--Baths and
lunatics--How to conduct a war.
CHAPTER XXV
Getting stale--Longing for change--We leave the Douve--On the
march--Spotted fever--Ten days' rest.
CHAPTER XXVI
A pleasant change--Suzette, Berthe and Marthe--"La jeune
fille farouche"--Andre.
CHAPTER XXVII
Getting fit--Caricaturing the Cure--"Dirty work ahead"--A
projected attack--Unlooked-for orders.
CHAPTER XXVIII
We march for Ypres--Halt at Locre--A bleak camp and meagre
fare--Signs of battle--First view of Ypres.
CHAPTER XXIX
Getting nearer--A lugubrious party--Still nearer--Blazing
Ypres--Orders for attack.
CHAPTER XXX
Rain and mud--A trying march--In the thick of it--A wounded
officer--Heavy shelling--I get my "quietus!"
CHAPTER XXXI
Slowly recovering--Field hospital--Ambulance train--Back in
England.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Bruce Bairnsfather: a photograph
The Birth of "Fragments": Scribbles on the farmhouse walls
That Astronomical Annoyance, the Star Shell
"Plugstreet Wood"
A Hopeless Dawn
The usual line in Billeting Farms
"Chuck us the biscuits, Bill. The fire wants mendin'"
"Shut that blinkin' door. There's a 'ell of a draught in 'ere"
A Memory of Christmas, 1914
The Sentry
A Messines Memory: "'Ow about shiftin' a bit further down the road, Fred?"
"Old soldiers never die"
Photograph of the Author. St. Yvon, Christmas Day, 1914
Off "in" again
"Poor old Maggie! She seems to be 'avin' it dreadful wet at 'ome!"
The Tin-opener
"They're devils to snipe, ain't they, Bill?"
Old Bill
FOREWORD
_Down South, in the Valley of the Somme, far
from the spots recorded in this book, I began
to write this story._
_In billets it was. I strolled across the old
farmyard and into the wood beyond. Sitting
by a gurgling little stream, I began, with the
aid of a notebook and a pencil, to record the
joys and sorrows of my first six months in
France._
_I do not claim any unique quality for these
experiences. Many thousands have had the
same. I have merely, by request, made a
record of my times out there, in the way that
they appeared to me_.
BRUCE BAIRNSFATHER.
CHAPTER I
LANDING AT HAVRE--TORTONI'S--FOLLOW
THE TRAM LINES--ORDERS FOR THE FRONT
[Illustration: G]
Gliding up the Seine, on a transport crammed to the lid with troops, in
the still, cold hours of a November morning, was my debut into the war.
It was about 6 a.m. when our boat silently slipped along past the great
wooden sheds, posts and complications of Havre Harbour. I had spent most
of the twelve-hour trip down somewhere in the depths of the ship,
dealing out rations to the hundred men that I had brought with me from
Plymouth. This sounds a comparatively simple process, but not a bit of
it. To begin with, the ship was filled with troops to bursting point,
and the mere matter of proceeding from one deck to another was about as
difficult as trying to get round to see a friend at the other side of
the ground at a Crystal Palace Cup final.
I stood in a queue of Gordons, Seaforths, Worcesters, etc., slowly
moving up one, until, finally arriving at the companion (nearly said
staircase), I tobogganed down into the hold, and spent what was left of
the night dealing out those rations. Having finished at last, I came to
the surface again, and now, as the transport glided along through the
dirty waters of the river, and as I gazed at the motley collection of
Frenchmen on the various wharves, and saw a variety of soldiery, and a
host of other warlike "props," I felt acutely that now I was _in_ the
war at last--the real thing! For some time I had been rehearsing in
England; but that was over now, and here I was--in the common or garden
vernacular--"in the soup."
At last we were alongside, and in due course I had collected that
hundred men of mine, and found that the number was still a hundred,
after which I landed with the rest, received instructions and a guide,
then started off for the Base Camps.
[Illustration: "Rations"]
These Camps were about three miles out of Havre, and thither the whole
contents of the ship marched in one long column, accompanied on either
side by a crowd of ragged little boys shouting for souvenirs and
biscuits. I and my hundred men were near the rear of the procession, and
in about an hour's time arrived at the Base Camps.
I don't know that it is possible to construct anything more atrociously
hideous or uninteresting than a Base Camp. It consists, in military
parlance, of nothing more than:--
Fields, grassless 1
Tents, bell 500
In fact, a huge space, once a field, now a bog, on which are perched
rows and rows of squalid tents.
I stumbled along over the mud with my troupe, and having found the
Adjutant, after a considerable search, thought that my task was over,
and that I could slink off into some odd tent or other and get
| 737.667709 | 3,568 |
2023-11-16 18:28:04.3498160
| 929 | 99 |
Produced by Dagny, John Bickers and David Widger
A SIMPLE SOUL
By Gustave Flaubert
CHAPTER I
For half a century the housewives of Pont-l'Eveque had envied Madame
Aubain her servant Felicite.
For a hundred francs a year, she cooked and did the housework, washed,
ironed, mended, harnessed the horse, fattened the poultry, made the
butter and remained faithful to her mistress--although the latter was by
no means an agreeable person.
Madame Aubain had married a comely youth without any money, who died in
the beginning of 1809, leaving her with two young children and a number
of debts. She sold all her property excepting the farm of Toucques and
the farm of Geffosses, the income of which barely amounted to 5,000
francs; then she left her house in Saint-Melaine, and moved into a less
pretentious one which had belonged to her ancestors and stood back of
the market-place. This house, with its slate-covered roof, was built
between a passage-way and a narrow street that led to the river. The
interior was so unevenly graded that it caused people to stumble. A
narrow hall separated the kitchen from the parlour, where Madame Aubain
sat all day in a straw armchair near the window. Eight mahogany chairs
stood in a row against the white wainscoting. An old piano, standing
beneath a barometer, was covered with a pyramid of old books and boxes.
On either side of the yellow marble mantelpiece, in Louis XV. style,
stood a tapestry armchair. The clock represented a temple of Vesta;
and the whole room smelled musty, as it was on a lower level than the
garden.
On the first floor was Madame's bed-chamber, a large room papered in a
flowered design and containing the portrait of Monsieur dressed in the
costume of a dandy. It communicated with a smaller room, in which there
were two little cribs, without any mattresses. Next, came the parlour
(always closed), filled with furniture covered with sheets. Then a hall,
which led to the study, where books and papers were piled on the shelves
of a book-case that enclosed three quarters of the big black desk.
Two panels were entirely hidden under pen-and-ink sketches, Gouache
landscapes and Audran engravings, relics of better times and vanished
luxury. On the second floor, a garret-window lighted Felicite's room,
which looked out upon the meadows.
She arose at daybreak, in order to attend mass, and she worked without
interruption until night; then, when dinner was over, the dishes cleared
away and the door securely locked, she would bury the log under the
ashes and fall asleep in front of the hearth with a rosary in her hand.
Nobody could bargain with greater obstinacy, and as for cleanliness,
the lustre on her brass sauce-pans was the envy and despair of other
servants. She was most economical, and when she ate she would gather up
crumbs with the tip of her finger, so that nothing should be wasted of
the loaf of bread weighing twelve pounds which was baked especially for
her and lasted three weeks.
Summer and winter she wore a dimity kerchief fastened in the back with a
pin, a cap which concealed her hair, a red skirt, grey stockings, and an
apron with a bib like those worn by hospital nurses.
Her face was thin and her voice shrill. When she was twenty-five, she
looked forty. After she had passed fifty, nobody could tell her
age; erect and silent always, she resembled a wooden figure working
automatically.
CHAPTER II
Like every other woman, she had had an affair of the heart. Her father,
who was a mason, was killed by falling from a scaffolding. Then her
mother died and her sisters went their different ways; a farmer took her
in, and while she was quite small, let her keep cows in the fields. She
was clad in miserable rags, beaten for the slightest offence and finally
dismissed for a theft of thirty sous which she did not commit. She took
service on another
| 737.669226 | 3,569 |
2023-11-16 18:28:04.3564380
| 914 | 91 |
Produced by Adrian Mastronardi, Rene Anderson Benitz, and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net.
Project Gutenberg has Volume II of this book. See
http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38957.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious typos have been amended. Variations in spelling in the
original text have been retained, except where usage frequency was
used to determine the common spelling and/or hyphenation. These
amendments are listed at the end of the text. Minor printer errors
have been amended without note.
The INTRODUCTION has been added to this volume as per author intent
in the Preface to Volume II. Color plate notations of specified
birds have been relocated to follow the title of the bird.
The full INDEX from Volume II has been added to this volume. (It has
also been added to the Table of Contents.)
In this e-text the letters a and u with a macron are represented by
[=a] and [=u], respectively.
ARGENTINE ORNITHOLOGY.
A
DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE
OF THE
BIRDS OF THE
ARGENTINE REPUBLIC.
BY
P. L. SCLATER, M.A., Ph.D., F.R.S., Etc.
_WITH NOTES ON THEIR HABITS_
BY
W. H. HUDSON, C.M.Z.S.,
LATE OF BUENOS AYRES.
[Illustration: THE CARIAMA.]
VOLUME I.
LONDON:
R. H. PORTER, 6 TENTERDEN STREET, W.
1888.
[Illustration: (Printer's Mark) ALERE FLAMMAM.
PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND FRANCIS.
RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.]
ARGENTINE ORNITHOLOGY.
The Edition of this work being strictly limited
to +200+ copies for Subscribers, each copy is
numbered and signed by the Authors.
[Illustration: No. 6
Signed P L Sclater
W. H. Hudson]
PREFACE TO THE FIRST VOLUME.
The present volume contains an account of the Passeres of the Argentine
Republic, which, as at present known, number some 229 species. The
second volume, which it is hoped will be ready in the course of next
year, will be devoted to the history of the remaining Orders of Birds,
and will also contain the Introduction and Index, and complete the work.
All the personal observations recorded in these pages are due to Mr.
Hudson, while I am responsible for the arrangement, nomenclature, and
scientific portions of the work.
I have to acknowledge with many thanks a donation of L40 from the Royal
Society, which has enabled Mr. Hudson to devote a portion of his time to
the compilation of his interesting notes.
P. L. S.
_December 1, 1887._
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
Fam. I. TURDIDAE, or THRUSHES.
Page
1. _Turdus leucomelas_, Vieill. (Dusky Thrush.) 1
2. _Turdus rufiventris_, Vieill. (Red-bellied Thrush.) 3
3. _Turdus magellanicus_, King. (Magellanic Thrush.) 3
4. _Turdus fuscater_, d'Orb. et Lafr. (Argentine Blackbird.) 4
5. _Turdus nigriceps_, Cab. (Black-headed Thrush.) 4
6. _Mimus modulator_, Gould. (Calandria Mocking-bird.) 5
7. _Mimus patachonicus_ (d'Orb. et Lafr.). (Patagonian
Mocking-bird.) 7
8. _Mimus triurus_ (Vieill.). (White-banded Mocking-bird
| 737.675848 | 3,570 |
2023-11-16 18:28:04.5511020
| 1,007 | 449 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing, Adrian Mastronardi 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: GLYPTODON.]
BUENOS AYRES,
AND
THE PROVINCES OF THE
RIO DE LA PLATA:
THEIR PRESENT STATE, TRADE, AND DEBT;
WITH SOME ACCOUNT FROM ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS OF THE PROGRESS
OF GEOGRAPHICAL DISCOVERY IN THOSE PARTS OF SOUTH
AMERICA DURING THE LAST SIXTY YEARS.
BY
SIR WOODBINE PARISH, K.C.H.,
F.R.S., G.S., VICE PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON,
MANY YEARS HIS MAJESTY'S CHARGE D'AFFAIRS AT BUENOS AYRES.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1839.
LONDON:
Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES and SONS,
Stamford Street.
INTRODUCTION.
The greater part of the materials for this volume were collected
during a long official residence in the country to which they relate:
containing, as I believe they do, some information which may be
interesting, if not useful, I feel that I ought not to withhold them
from the public, in whose service they were obtained.
The chapters which give an account of the settlements made by the old
Spaniards on the coast of Patagonia, and of the explorations of the
Pampas south of Buenos Ayres, both by them and their successors in the
present century, will be found to throw some new light on the progress
of geographical discovery in that part of the world. Our occupation
of the Falkland Islands, in the first instance, and the work shortly
afterwards published by Falkner in this country, pointing out the
defenceless state of Patagonia, joined to the enterprising character
of the British voyages of discovery about the same period, appears
to have stimulated the Spaniards, in alarm lest we should forestall
them, to examine their coasts, to explore their rivers, and to found
settlements, of which every record was concealed from public view, lest
the world at large should become better acquainted with possessions,
all knowledge of which it was their particular care and policy to
endeavour to keep to themselves.
Thus, though Spain, at an enormous cost, acquired some better
information relative to countries over which she claimed a nominal
sovereignty, the results were not suffered to transpire, but remained
locked up in the secret archives of the viceroys and of the council of
the Indies; where probably they would have been hidden to this day had
not the South Americans assumed the management of their own affairs.
In the confusion which followed the deposition of the Spanish
authorities, the public archives appear to have been ransacked with
little ceremony, and many documents of great interest were lost, or
fell into the hands of individuals who, like collectors of rarities in
other parts of the world, showed anything but a disposition to share
them with the public at large. I will not say that this was always
the case, but the feeling prevailed to a sufficient extent to enhance
materially the value of those which were either offered for sale or
obtainable by other means.
Some few individuals were actuated by a different spirit, amongst whom
I ought especially to name Dr. Segurola, the fellow-labourer with Dean
Funes in his historical essay upon the provinces of La Plata, whose
valuable collection of MSS. (from which that work was principally
compiled) was always accessible to his friends, and to whom I have
to acknowledge my own obligations for leave to take copies of many
an interesting paper. Others, also, whom I do not name, will I trust
not the less accept my thanks for the facilities they afforded me
for obtaining such information as I required. The government, I must
say, was always liberal, in giving me access to the old archives, and
in permitting me to transcribe documents[1] which I could not have
obtained from other quarters.
With these facilities, and by purchase, I found myself, by the time
I quitted South America, in possession of a considerable collection
of MS. maps and of unedited papers respecting countries of which the
greater part of the world is, I believe, in almost absolute ignorance.
Amongst the most interesting perhaps of these I may mention--
The original Diaries of Don Juan de la Piedra, sent out from Spain,
| 737.870512 | 3,571 |
2023-11-16 18:28:04.5545170
| 1,820 | 109 |
Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
THE FLAG
AND OTHER POEMS
1918
BY
AMY REDPATH RODDICK
(_All rights reserved_)
Montreal
JOHN DOUGALL & SON
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE BRITISH LANDS 5
THE FLAG 7
ENGLAND’S OLDEST COLONY 9
IN FORT-BOUND METZ 11
THE CALM THAT COMES WITH YEARS 13
GOING WEST 15
PERFECT IN THY PROMISE 18
ARMAGEDDON 19
THE FAIRIES 20
THE SOLDIERS 21
NO TEARS 22
“MON REPOS” 22
“AS WE FORGIVE” 23
THE CREW 24
IN A TRAIN 25
THE BALLAD OF A BUGABOO 26
OUR ART 31
ON READING SOME IMAGIST VERSES 33
THE MIND OF THE MYSTIC 34
A MONTREAL LULLABY 35
L’ESPERANCE 36
MY LAKE 37
A SCIENTIFIC PUZZLE 38
THE GOOD OLD DAYS 40
AT LENNOX 41
THE FLOWER OF TRUE HAPPINESS 42
THE MOUNTAIN TOP 44
CHARITY 46
THE BRITISH LANDS.
The tie that binds the British lands
Is never spun of tyrant’s might;
Of fair replies to just demands,
Of compromise whenever right
Is spun the fibre of its strands,
A mighty Empire to unite.
A symbol is our gracious King
Of British unity of heart,
A simple man to whom we cling,
Of all good men the counterpart.
We sing to God to “Save the King,”
And mean thereby ourselves in part.
The people of the British lands
Are masters of their future fate,
By effort of their mind and hands
They glorify their Empire State,
And, as the bud of thought expands,
Can make new laws by calm debate.
The British Empire, may it be
The nucleus of that larger league,
Uniting every land and sea,
Eschewing wars and false intrigue,
May common sense and kindness be
The crowning glory of that league!
THE FLAG.
Canada! where is thy flag,
Welding race and race together?
Union Jack, that wondrous rag,
Dear to those who’ve trod the heather,
Dear to those who love the rose,
Blending Irish cross and nation
With the crosses of old foes
In a just and fair relation,
Bears no emblem of the men,
First to cross the stormy ocean,
Bringing faith and plough and pen,
First to know with deep emotion,
Canada! thy name, as home.
True, provincial arms commingle
On thy flag o’er ships that roam;
In their stead an emblem single,
Maple leaf of golden hue,
Would announce to all more proudly
Whence thy ships their anchors drew;
Would announce to all more loudly,
Canada! thy nation’s life;
And on land, when bells are ringing
To acclaim the end of strife,
When with joy each heart is singing;
Canada! is this thy flag?
Welding race and race together,
Waving from each roof and crag,
East and West, one nation ever!
ENGLAND’S OLDEST COLONY.
[A]Newfoundland is proud to be
England’s oldest colony!
Loving her dear motherland,
By her side she takes her stand,
Devon, Scotch and Irish stock,
Sturdy as their seagirt rock,
Leave their homes and leave their boats,
Don the khaki- coats.
Newfoundland has fought and bled,
Far and wide her fame has spread,
Newfoundland is proud to be
England’s oldest colony!
Nine fair sisters in one home,
With the North Pole on its dome,
Facing both the East and West,
And a friendly State abreast,
Smile upon the lonely one.
They have done as she has done,
Fought and bled in freedom’s cause,
Won like her the world’s applause.
Will she join her home to theirs?
No, her head in scorn she rears,
Newfoundland is proud to be
England’s oldest colony!
But the offer’s most sincere;
And the offer’s always there;
Newfoundland may change her mind,
And in time she too may find,
Burdens shared are light to bear,
Triumphs shared are doubly dear,
She may gladly join the sheaf
Bound around by maple leaf,
Knowing well she still may boast,
Answering her sisters’ toast:
“Newfoundland is proud to be
England’s oldest colony!”
[A] The name of “Newfoundland” is never pronounced by its inhabitants
or their neighbors of the Maritime Provinces with the accent on the
middle syllable, as is the usage elsewhere. It is pronounced as though
written “Newf’n’land,” with the principal stress on the last syllable.
IN FORT-BOUND METZ.
July 26th, 1914.
Neat uniformed, with close cropped head and fierce moustache,
Near us they dined one July day in fort-bound Metz.
We could not catch their words; but we could see and feel
Their strong excitement, breaking forth, then held in check,
Then breaking forth afresh as some new health was drunk.
The joy, imprinted on their faces, spread to ours.
We laughed in turn as they; but knew not why we laughed.
It was indeed a merry meal in which we shared,
That July day, in fort-bound Metz.
Next day, in France, we were to know at what we laughed
With those large built, full blooded German men of rank,
For when we asked a grieving woman why she wept,
She sobbed: “Because the Germans will make war on France!”
THE CALM THAT COMES WITH YEARS.
I cannot write of turmoil, I cannot write of strife,
Long since has gone the passion, I used to think was life.
A calmness rests upon me, a calm I cannot break,
Though worlds are trembling round me and freedom is at stake.
Because I have no sorrows, because my heart’s at rest,
I cannot weep with others, whose hearts are not so blest;
I tremble for no hero upon the fields of France,
I cannot curse the Nero who planned this gory dance.
Though woman fast is winning her place in Council Halls,
By work where talent leads her, by work where mercy calls,
I feel no keen elation to know her triumph’s near,
A triumph most unselfish, a heavier weight to bear.
The calm that rests upon me, the calm that comes with years,
Suggests that man’s impatience is the cause of most he fears,
Suggests that war’s upheaval is but the anvil clink,
The welding by the Forger of yet another link
In that great chain of progress that binds successive time,
From chaos on to order, and then to heights sublime!
GOING WEST.
A pulsing silence shrouds me round
Like waves one feels, but hears no sound,
Then slowly, as from realms above,
There come soft whispered words of love.
And something presses on my heart,
Of my own self it seems a part,
So very close I feel--her head--
And now I know she is not dead!
I try to break the secret charm
That weighs upon my nerveless arm,
I want to hold my love so close
She will not wander whilst I doze.
I think I fell asleep,
The silence seemed more deep,
I could not catch the beat
The noiseless waves repeat.
Again there comes that soundless sound,
The heavy, ceaseless, rythmic pound.
Is it the throb of worlds alive
| 737.873927 | 3,572 |
2023-11-16 18:28:04.6208980
| 392 | 86 |
Produced by Giovanni Fini and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
EXPERIMENTS
ON
_THE NERVOUS SYSTEM_,
WITH OPIUM AND METALLINE SUBSTANCES;
MADE CHIEFLY WITH THE VIEW OF DETERMINING THE
_NATURE AND EFFECTS_
OF
ANIMAL ELECTRICITY.
BY ALEXANDER MONRO, M. D.
PROFESSOR OF MEDICINE, ANATOMY AND SURGERY IN THE UNIVERSITY
OF EDINBURGH; FELLOW OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS,
AND OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH, AND OF
THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF SURGERY IN PARIS.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY ADAM NEILL AND COMPANY,
FOR BELL & BRADFUTE, AND T. DUNCAN;
AND J. JOHNSON, LONDON.
M.DCC.XCIII.
CONTENTS.
_Page_
INTRODUCTION, 5
Observations on the Circulating and Nervous Systems of Frogs, 6
Experiments with Opium, 9
Corollaries from the above Facts and Experiments, 12
Summary of Experiments made on Animals with Metalline Substances, 17
Summary of Facts proved by the foregoing Experiments, 35
Resemblance of the Fluid put in Motion by the foregoing
Experiments to the Electrical Fluid, 38
The Nervous Fluid or Energy not the same with the Electrical, nor
with
| 737.940308 | 3,573 |
2023-11-16 18:28:05.5178860
| 1,076 | 596 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
CONTRIBUTIONS FROM
THE MUSEUM OF HISTORY AND TECHNOLOGY:
PAPER 8
THE NATURAL PHILOSOPHY OF
WILLIAM GILBERT AND HIS PREDECESSORS
_W. James King_
By W. James King
THE NATURAL PHILOSOPHY OF
WILLIAM GILBERT
AND HIS PREDECESSORS
Until several decades ago, the physical sciences were
considered to have had their origins in the 17th
century--mechanics beginning with men like Galileo Galilei
and magnetism with men like the Elizabethan physician and
scientist William Gilbert.
Historians of science, however, have traced many of the 17th
century's concepts of mechanics back into the Middle Ages.
Here, Gilbert's explanation of the loadstone and its powers
is compared with explanations to be found in the Middle Ages
and earlier.
From this comparison it appears that Gilbert can best be
understood by considering him not so much a herald of the new
science as a modifier of the old.
THE AUTHOR: W. James King is curator of electricity, Museum
of History and Technology, in the Smithsonian Institution's
United States National Museum.
The year 1600 saw the publication by an English physician, William
Gilbert, of a book on the loadstone. Entitled _De magnete_,[1] it has
traditionally been credited with laying a foundation for the modern
science of electricity and magnetism. The following essay is an
attempt to examine the basis for such a tradition by determining what
Gilbert's original contributions to these sciences were, and to make
explicit the sense in which he may be considered as being dependent
upon earlier work. In this manner a more accurate estimate of his
position in the history of science may be made.
[1] William Gilbert, _De magnete, magneticisque corporibus
et de magno magnete tellure; physiologia nova, plurimis &
argumentis, & experimentis, demonstrata_, London, 1600, 240
pp., with an introduction by Edward Wright. All references to
Gilbert in this article, unless otherwise noted, are to the
American translation by P. Fleury Mottelay, 368 pp.,
published in New York in 1893, and are designated by the
letter M. However, the Latin text of the 1600 edition has
been quoted wherever I have disagreed with the Mottelay
translation.
A good source of information on Gilbert is Dr. Duane H. D.
Roller's doctoral thesis, written under the direction of Dr.
I. B. Cohen of Harvard University. Dr. Roller, at present
Curator of the De Golyer Collection at the University of
Oklahoma, informed me that an expanded version of his
dissertation will shortly appear in book form. Unfortunately
his researches were not known to me until after this article
was completed.
One criterion as to the book's significance in the history of science
can be applied almost immediately. A number of historians have pointed
to the introduction of numbers and geometry as marking a watershed
between the modern and the medieval understanding of nature. Thus
A. Koyre considers the Archimedeanization of space as one of the
necessary features of the development of modern astronomy and
physics.[2] A. N. Whitehead and E. Cassirer have turned to measurement
and the quantification of force as marking this transition.[3]
However, the obvious absence[4] of such techniques in _De magnete_
makes it difficult to consider Gilbert as a founder of modern
electricity and magnetism in this sense.
[2] Alexandre Koyre, _Etudes galileennes_, Paris, 1939.
[3] Alfred N. Whitehead, _Science and the modern world_, New
York, 1925, ch. 3; Ernst Cassirer, _Das Erkenntnisproblem_,
ed. 3, Berlin, 1922, vol. 1, pp. 314-318, 352-359.
[4] However, see M: pp. 161, 162, 168, 335.
[Illustration: Figure 1.--WILLIAM GILBERT'S BOOK ON THE LOADSTONE,
TITLE PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION, FROM A COPY IN THE LIBRARY OF
CONGRESS. (_Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress._)]
There is another sense in which it is possible to contend that
Gilbert's treatise introduced modern studies in these fields. He has
frequently been credited with the introduction of the inductive method
based upon stubborn facts, in contrast to the methods and content of
medieval Aristotelianism.[5] No science can be based upon faulty
observations and certainly
| 738.837296 | 3,574 |
2023-11-16 18:28:05.5998480
| 2,440 | 136 |
Produced by Chetan K. Jain and John B. Hare
SONGS OF KABIR
Translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Introduction by Evelyn Underhill
New York, The Macmillan Company
1915
INTRODUCTION
The poet Kabir, a selection from whose songs is here for the
first time offered to English readers, is one of the most
interesting personalities in the history of Indian mysticism.
Born in or near Benares, of Mohammedan parents, and probably
about the year 1440, he became in early life a disciple of the
celebrated Hindu ascetic Ramananda. Ramananda had brought to
Northern India the religious revival which Ramanuja, the great
twelfth-century reformer of Brahmanism, had initiated in the
South. This revival was in part a reaction against the
increasing formalism of the orthodox cult, in part an assertion
of the demands of the heart as against the intense
intellectualism of the Vedanta philosophy, the exaggerated monism
which that philosophy proclaimed. It took in Ramanuja's
preaching the form of an ardent personal devotion to the God
Vishnu, as representing the personal aspect of the Divine Nature:
that mystical "religion of love" which everywhere makes its
appearance at a certain level of spiritual culture, and which
creeds and philosophies are powerless to kill.
Though such a devotion is indigenous in Hinduism, and finds
expression in many passages of the Bhagavad Gita, there was in
its mediaeval revival a large element of syncretism. Ramananda,
through whom its spirit is said to have reached Kabir, appears to
have been a man of wide religious culture, and full of missionary
enthusiasm. Living at the moment in which the impassioned poetry
and deep philosophy of the great Persian mystics, Attar, Sadi,
Jalalu'ddin Rumi, and Hafiz, were exercising a powerful influence
on the religious thought of India, he dreamed of reconciling this
intense and personal Mohammedan mysticism with the traditional
theology of Brahmanism. Some have regarded both these great
religious leaders as influenced also by Christian thought and
life: but as this is a point upon which competent authorities
hold widely divergent views, its discussion is not attempted here.
We may safely assert, however, that in their teachings, two--perhaps
three--apparently antagonistic streams of intense
spiritual culture met, as Jewish and Hellenistic thought met in
the early Christian Church: and it is one of the outstanding
characteristics of Kabir's genius that he was able in his poems
to fuse them into one.
A great religious reformer, the founder of a sect to which nearly
a million northern Hindus still belong, it is yet supremely as a
mystical poet that Kabir lives for us. His fate has been that of
many revealers of Reality. A hater of religious exclusivism, and
seeking above all things to initiate men into the liberty of the
children of God, his followers have honoured his memory by
re-erecting in a new place the barriers which he laboured to cast
down. But his wonderful songs survive, the spontaneous
expressions of his vision and his love; and it is by these, not
by the didactic teachings associated with his name, that he makes
his immortal appeal to the heart. In these poems a wide range of
mystical emotion is brought into play: from the loftiest
abstractions, the most otherworldly passion for the Infinite, to
the most intimate and personal realization of God, expressed in
homely metaphors and religious symbols drawn indifferently from
Hindu and Mohammedan belief. It is impossible to say of their
author that he was Brahman or Sufi, Vedantist or Vaishnavite.
He is, as he says himself, "at once the child of Allah and of Ram."
That Supreme Spirit Whom he knew and adored, and to Whose joyous
friendship he sought to induct the souls of other men, transcended
whilst He included all metaphysical categories, all credal
definitions; yet each contributed something to the description of
that Infinite and Simple Totality Who revealed Himself, according
to their measure, to the faithful lovers of all creeds.
Kabir's story is surrounded by contradictory legends, on none of
which reliance can be placed. Some of these emanate from a Hindu,
some from a Mohammedan source, and claim him by turns as a Sufi
and a Brahman saint. His name, however, is practically a
conclusive proof of Moslem ancestry: and the most probable tale is
that which represents him as the actual or adopted child of a
Mohammedan weaver of Benares, the city in which the chief events
of his life took place.
In fifteenth-century Benares the syncretistic tendencies of
Bhakti religion had reached full development. Sufis and Brahmans
appear to have met in disputation: the most spiritual members of
both creeds frequenting the teachings of Ramananda, whose
reputation was then at its height. The boy Kabir, in whom the
religious passion was innate, saw in Ramananda his destined
teacher; but knew how slight were the chances that a Hindu guru
would accept a Mohammedan as disciple. He therefore hid upon the
steps of the river Ganges, where Ramananda was accustomed to
bathe; with the result that the master, coming down to the water,
trod upon his body unexpectedly, and exclaimed in his
astonishment, "Ram! Ram!"--the name of the incarnation under
which he worshipped God. Kabir then declared that he had
received the mantra of initiation from Ramananda's lips, and was
by it admitted to discipleship. In spite of the protests of
orthodox Brahmans and Mohammedans, both equally annoyed by this
contempt of theological landmarks, he persisted in his claim;
thus exhibiting in action that very principle of religious
synthesis which Ramananda had sought to establish in thought.
Ramananda appears to have accepted him, and though Mohammedan
legends speak of the famous Sufi Pir, Takki of Jhansi, as Kabir's
master in later life, the Hindu saint is the only human teacher
to whom in his songs he acknowledges indebtedness.
The little that we know of Kabir's life contradicts many current
ideas concerning the Oriental mystic. Of the stages of
discipline through which he passed, the manner in which his
spiritual genius developed, we are completely ignorant. He seems
to have remained for years the disciple of Ramananda, joining in
the theological and philosophical arguments which his master held
with all the great Mullahs and Brahmans of his day; and to this
source we may perhaps trace his acquaintance with the terms of
Hindu and Sufi philosophy. He may or may not have submitted to
the traditional education of the Hindu or the Sufi contemplative:
it is clear, at any rate, that he never adopted the life of the
professional ascetic, or retired from the world in order to
devote himself to bodily mortifications and the exclusive pursuit
of the contemplative life. Side by side with his interior life
of adoration, its artistic expression in music and words--for he
was a skilled musician as well as a poet--he lived the sane and
diligent life of the Oriental craftsman. All the legends agree
on this point: that Kabir was a weaver, a simple and unlettered
man, who earned his living at the loom. Like Paul the tentmaker,
Boehme the cobbler, Bunyan the tinker, Tersteegen the
ribbon-maker, he knew how to combine vision and industry; the
work of his hands helped rather than hindered the impassioned
meditation of his heart. Hating mere bodily austerities, he was
no ascetic, but a married man, the father of a family--a
circumstance which Hindu legends of the monastic type vainly
attempt to conceal or explain--and it was from out of the heart
of the common life that he sang his rapturous lyrics of divine
love. Here his works corroborate the traditional story of his
life. Again and again he extols the life of home, the value and
reality of diurnal existence, with its opportunities for love and
renunciation; pouring contempt--upon the professional sanctity of
the Yogi, who "has a great beard and matted locks, and looks like
a goat," and on all who think it necessary to flee a world
pervaded by love, joy, and beauty--the proper theatre of man's
quest--in order to find that One Reality Who has "spread His form
of love throughout all the world." [Footnote: Cf. Poems Nos. XXI,
XL, XLIII, LXVI, LXXVI.]
It does not need much experience of ascetic literature to
recognize the boldness and originality of this attitude in such a
time and place. From the point of view of orthodox sanctity,
whether Hindu or Mohammedan, Kabir was plainly a heretic; and his
frank dislike of all institutional religion, all external
observance--which was as thorough and as intense as that of the
Quakers themselves--completed, so far as ecclesiastical opinion
was concerned, his reputation as a dangerous man. The "simple
union" with Divine Reality which he perpetually extolled, as alike
the duty and the joy of every soul, was independent both of ritual
and of bodily austerities; the God whom he proclaimed was "neither
in Kaaba nor in Kailash." Those who sought Him needed not to go
far; for He awaited discovery everywhere, more accessible to "the
washerwoman and the carpenter" than to the self--righteous holy man.
[Footnote: Poems I, II, XLI.] Therefore the whole apparatus of
piety, Hindu and Moslem alike--the temple and mosque, idol and holy
water, scriptures and priests--were denounced by this inconveniently
clear-sighted poet as mere substitutes for reality; dead things
intervening between the soul and its love--
/*
The images are all lifeless, they cannot speak:
I know, for I have cried aloud to them.
The Purana and the Koran are mere words:
lifting up the curtain, I have seen.
*/
[Footnote: Poems XLII, LXV, LXVII.]
This sort of thing cannot be tolerated by any organized church;
and it is not surprising that Kabir, having his head-quarters in
Benares, the very centre of priestly influence, was subjected to
considerable persecution. The well-known legend of the beautiful
courtesan sent by Brahmans to tempt his virtue, and converted,
like the Magdalen, by her sudden encounter with the initiate of a
higher love, pre serves the memory of the fear and dislike with
which he was regarded by the ecclesiastical powers. Once at
least, after the performance of a supposed miracle of healing
| 738.919258 | 3,575 |
2023-11-16 18:28:05.6054260
| 194 | 181 |
Produced by hekula03, David E. Brown, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
book was produced from images made available by the
HathiTrust Digital Library.)
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
LO
| 738.924836 | 3,576 |
2023-11-16 18:28:06.1401490
| 4,091 | 120 |
Produced by Giovanni Fini, Shaun Pinder and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.
—Bold text has been rendered as =bold text=.
—Table of Contents items do not refer to chapters or section, but to
the arguments treated on the pages referred to.
THE
ENGLISH FLOWER GARDEN.
[Illustration: LOGO]
THE
ENGLISH FLOWER GARDEN
WITH ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES
BY
HENRY A. BRIGHT
AUTHOR OF “A YEAR IN A LANCASHIRE GARDEN.”
London:
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1881.
_The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved._
LONDON:
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
BREAD STREET HILL.
PREFACE.
IT is just a year ago since this Essay on “The English Flower Garden”
was published in the _Quarterly Review_.
It was written with a twofold object: to give in the smallest compass
an outline history of English gardens, and to show once again what
makes the true charm and happiness of a garden. Many—perhaps too
partial—friends have urged me to reprint this article. They have
reminded me that, when the immediate circulation of any one number of
a Review has ceased, its articles are virtually lost and buried, and
they assure me that there are readers who may not have already seen,
and who would yet care to read, this Essay. I hardly know how this may
be, but I do know how very much I am indebted to the proprietor of the
_Quarterly_ for his great kindness in allowing me the opportunity of
this reprint. Should this little book succeed in retaining the friends
that _A Year in a Lancashire Garden_ was happy enough to make, it will
indeed be fortunate. It has been to me a matter of no little surprise
(as, naturally, of pleasure) to find from the generous notices of the
Press and from numerous private letters from owners of gardens, to
whom I am entirely a stranger, that the views I have expressed as to
the necessity of a reform in our gardens are very widely held. So long
as a garden is only regarded as a means for displaying masses of gay
colouring, half the delight and all the real interest of it are gone.
It is only when we learn to make friends of individual plants, and
recall their history and associations, that a garden becomes a pleasure
for the intellect as well as for the senses. But I do not wish to
carry my opinions to any extravagant length. It is Voltaire, I think,
who says that “a man may have preferences but no exclusions,” and I
certainly would exclude nothing that is good in the present system.
Bedding-out is occasionally very effective and sometimes necessary;
and, on the other hand, a garden—such as I saw suggested somewhere the
other day—which should contain only flowers known to Chaucer, would
be extremely disappointing. However, bedding-out can take very good
care of itself, and Chaucerian gardens will not be largely popular.
Meanwhile, I sincerely hope that flowering shrubs and hardy herbaceous
plants may be far more generally grown and cared for than they are at
present.
It has seemed on the whole best to leave this Essay as it was written.
I have made a few verbal corrections and inserted one or two short
sentences, and that is all. I have, however, added illustrative Notes
on points which seemed of some little interest.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
LOVE OF GARDENING 1
EARLY ENGLISH GARDENS 3
TOPIARIAN WORK 8
LANDSCAPE GARDENERS 11
BEDDING-OUT 16
CARPET-BEDDING 23
SPRING GARDENING 26
THE SEMI-TROPICAL GARDEN 27
THE ALPINE GARDEN 29
FOUNTAINS 31
THE WILD GARDEN 32
THE SHRUBBERY 35
HARDY SHRUBS 39
THE WALLED GARDEN 43
OLD HERBALS 45
FLOWERS OF WINTER 47
SPRING FLOWERS 49
ROSES 51
SUMMER FLOWERS 52
BIRDS AND BUTTERFLIES 55
EXPLORERS 57
BOTANISTS 60
GARDEN ASSOCIATIONS 65
FLOWER PAINTING 67
FLOWER SHOWS 71
THE INTEREST OF THE GARDEN 74
NOTES.
I. THE GARDENER BOWER-BIRD 78
II. ARS TOPIARIA 82
III. A POET’S FLOWER-BED 86
IV. THE EVENING PRIMROSE 87
V. THE CHRISTMAS ROSE 92
THE
ENGLISH FLOWER GARDEN.
THE ENGLISH FLOWER GARDEN.
AS spring comes on, the fancy of any man who cares about a garden,
“lightly turns to thoughts” of flowers and the gardens where they grow.
Never, perhaps, was the art of gardening so popular,—I wish we could
say so intelligent,—as at present. The stately homes of England,
the villas that line the roads of suburban districts, the cottages
clustering round a village green, often even a back yard or window-sill
in the heart of some manufacturing town, all testify in their different
ways to the desire of having an adornment of flowers. Indeed this
desire, as Bacon long ago pointed out, in his famous and often-quoted
essay, is as old as man himself; or, if any one prefer to trace back
the instinct, not to the Garden of Eden, but to the habits of a bird,
he may be reminded of the Gardener Bower-bird (_Amblyornis inornata_)
of New Guinea, who, making a bower for the pleasure of his mate, will
decorate the front of it with flowers carefully stuck into the sod.[1]
Nothing more strikingly shows the interest that is now taken in
gardening than the number of books that are published on the subject.
Besides those that deal less with the craft of the gardener than with
the flowers themselves, we have Manuals of gardening, with their
annual and monthly calendars of gardening operations, their practical
advice and technical knowledge. Then there are the almost countless
catalogues of the nurserymen and seedsmen, which often add excellent,
and sometimes, engravings, and always supply much useful
information. Moreover, in addition to the gardening articles
that appear in the _Field_ and elsewhere, there are no less than six
weekly newspapers, and five monthly periodicals, all devoted to
gardening. Lastly, from time to time some publication comes out in
parts, as a monograph on some particular species or group of plants,
which, with its beautifully-painted illustrations, will one day take
its place among other magnificent folios in the botanical libraries of
the world.
So much has been written about the old English or Elizabethan garden,
that I need hardly enter into great detail on the subject. Bacon has
told us what his ideal garden was—the outside lawn, the enclosed
garden, and the wilderness. Of course few gardens can ever have
approached the perfection of which he dreams, but his general type was
the type of the garden of his day. He does not approve of “the making
of knots or figures with divers earths” near the house; but
in the garden proper, which is enclosed by hedges with green alleys
running past them, he will allow of “variety of device.” Each month
is to have its own flowers, and he values flowers, as Milton seems
to have done, more for fragrance than for colour. And the variety of
flowers of the old garden was, even in comparatively small places, far
greater than we might at first suppose. Thomas Tusser, who was then a
Suffolk farmer, published his _Points of Husbandry_ in 1557, and he
gives a long list of the plants he grew for the kitchen, for salads,
for physic, and of flowers for “windows and pots.” The New Shakespeare
Society, too, has lately been reprinting Harrison’s _Description of
England_, first printed in 1577, and he, in a chapter on gardening,
describes his own “little plot, void of all cost in keeping,” as
having, “in the varietie of simples,” “verie neere three hundred of
one sort and other contained therein, no one of them being common or
usually to be had.”
Two of the most celebrated gardens of those days were Nonsuch and
Cobham. Nonsuch seems to have had a number of statues, and a wonderful
fountain, with Diana and Actæon; and its lilac-trees are particularly
mentioned. Of Cobham, in Kent, then belonging to Lord Cobham, but now
to Lord Darnley, Holinshed says, “No varietie of strange flowers and
trees do want, which praise or price maie obtaine from the furthest
part of Europe or from other strange countries, whereby it is not
inferior to the Garden of Semiramis.” A little later, Lord Fairfax’s
garden at Nun-Appleton was glorified by Andrew Marvell. It was built,
as was supposed to be appropriate for a soldier’s garden, in the form
of a fort with five bastions, and
“the flowers as on parade
Under their colours stand displayed,
Each regiment in order grows,
That of the tulip, pink, and rose.”
Later on still (in 1685) Sir William Temple, in his celebrated essay,
described the gardens in his day as not often exceeding six or eight
acres, enclosed by walls, and “laid out in a manner wholly for
advantage of fruits, flowers, and the product of kitchen gardens.” He
goes on to say, that
“In every garden four things are necessary to be provided for,
flowers, fruit, shade and water, and whoever lays out a garden
without all these must not pretend to any perfection. It ought to lie
to the best parts of the house, so as to be but like one of the rooms
out of which you step into another. The part of your garden next your
house (besides the walls that go round it) should be a parterre for
flowers, and grass-plots bordered with flowers; or if, according to
the newest mode, it be cast all into grass-plots and gravel walks, the
dryness of these should be relieved with fountains, and the plainness
of those with statues.”
He then quotes the garden at Moor Park, made by the Countess of
Bedford, as “the perfectest figure of a garden I ever saw.” He
says, “the length of the house, where the best rooms or of most use
or pleasure are, lies upon the breadth of the garden:” the “great
parlour” opens upon a broad terrace walk, and then three flights of
steps descend to a very large parterre, with its standard laurels, its
fountains, and its statues. This garden must obviously have been a
garden of an architectural rather than of a horticultural character,
and was not at all the ordinary garden of the ordinary country house.
But the garden, which we properly associate with those described by
the poets of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, was the garden
“enclosed by walls,” within which were flower-beds and herb and
kitchen gardens, divided by flowering shrubs, and green walks, and
verdant alleys. It was in such a garden that Spenser’s butterfly met
its untimely end, and such were
“The gardens of Adonis, fraught
With pleasures manifold.”
It was in the “pleached bower” of such a garden, where the ripe
honeysuckles obscured the sun, that Shakespeare’s Beatrice was to hide.
Of such a garden Andrew Marvell was thinking when he described the
lilies and roses, on which Sylvio’s fawn was wont to feed. In these old
gardens Cowley wrote his essays; and Herrick gathered the fancies of a
poet, or the warnings of a moralist, with his early violets and fading
daffodils.
And so, with but few changes, these Elizabethan gardens grew on from
year to year, till a certain modification occurred when William III.
introduced a taste for whatever was characteristic of Holland: statues
were fewer, and hedges of box or yew, clipped into fantastic shapes,
became all the fashion. These clipped hedges, indeed, were no new
invention, as Sir Walter Scott appears to have thought, for Bacon had
denounced them. He did “not like images cut out in juniper or other
garden stuff, they be for children.” Earlier still, Leland, in his
_Itinerary_, speaks of the Castle of Wrexhill, and says that outside
“the mote” were orchards, and “in the orchards were mountes _opere
topiario_.”[2]
But the most famous specimen of Topiarian work in England is probably
that at Levens Hall in Westmoreland. It was the work of Beaumont, a
well-known gardener of his day, and dates from 1701, the last year of
William III.’s reign. Colonel Graham was at that time owner of Levens,
and some curious letters from his steward still exist, describing the
laying-out of the grounds and the planting of the yews, of which one
group was clipped into the shape of Queen Elizabeth with her maids of
honour.
Long rows of trees, moreover, were now formed on the several sides of
great houses, and at
Cobham (the varied fortune of whose garden is singularly instructive)
a semicircle of trees was planted near the west front, from which
radiated five avenues. But the Dutch fashions and the Topiarian work
and the long avenues were to be of no long duration. It is more than
probable that political feeling, as well as mere fashion, may have had
something to do with the change in many cases; but, however this may
be, those who set themselves up as men of taste began to find fault
with the existing style. Pope was among the first to discover that
there was a monotony when grove nodded to grove and each alley had
its brother, and he insisted that nature must “never be forgot,” and
that one must “consult the genius of the place in all.” So he set to
work to consult the genius of his own villa at Twickenham, and this
genius certainly prevented anything monotonous. He had flower-beds,
and <DW72>s, and mounds, and vistas, and a cypress-grove, and a
shell-temple, and an orangery, and a bowling-green, and, above all, a
wonderful grotto, “finished with shells, and interspersed with pieces
of looking-glass in angular forms.”
And it was about this time that Batty Langley, also of Twickenham,
wrote his _New Principles of Gardening, or the Laying-out and Planting
Parterres, Groves, Wildernesses, Labyrinths, Avenues, Parks, &c., after
a more Grand and Rural manner than has been done before_. This “grand
_and_ rural manner” expresses pretty clearly the confusion we find
all through his book. He must have known Pope’s villa, and probably
the poet himself, and it is evident that he too intended to consult
nature and the “genius” of a place. He says there is not “anything more
_shocking_ than a _stiff regular garden_, where, after we have seen
one quarter thereof, the very same is repeated in all the remaining
parts, so that we are tired, instead of being further entertained with
something new as expected.” He thinks “our gardens much the worst of
any in the world, some few excepted,” and is severe on the late Mr.
London and Mr. Wise for having laid out gardens for the nobility “in
a regular, stiff, and stuft-up manner,” with crowded evergreens and
“trifling flower-knots.” But the compliments which he pays to nature
are, after all, not much more than lip-homage. His principles seem
very right, but his designs, of which we have very many, show that the
“grand” had quite got the better of the “rural.” Even the design of
“a rural garden after the new manner” consists of “a fine large plain
parterre, environed with an easy, agreeable <DW72>,” and “adorned with
Apollo, Minerva, and Pallas (_sic_), the Seven Liberal Arts, Mercury,
and Pytho;” then there is an octagon basin, with Neptune, and avenues
and canals and more statues, and “we can never know when we have seen
the whole.”
And now the period of the so-called “landscape gardeners” began, though
in reality their business was rather with the _grounds_ than with the
garden proper.
Of these Kent was the first of eminence. Their idea was to destroy
all the old-fashioned formalities, at the sacrifice of a certain
stateliness which the style possessed, and to bring the scenery of an
English park up to the house itself. But they were constantly haunted
and harassed by the word “picturesque.” Was Nature more picturesque
when closely followed or carefully improved? Was it the duty of the
landscape gardener to arrange his clumps and belts of trees in the way
in which they would look best in a _picture_? This was evidently Kent’s
idea, and Daines Barrington, speaking of him, says it was reserved for
him “to realize these beautiful descriptions [in the _Faery Queen_],
for which he was peculiarly adapted by being a painter, as the true
test of perfection in a modern garden is that a landscape painter
would choose it as a composition.” Kent’s great work seems to have
been the carrying out of the alterations at Stowe, on which Bridgeman
had been originally employed, and much of the beauty of those famous
grounds—which, however, were at least as artificial as
| 739.459559 | 3,577 |
2023-11-16 18:28:06.1799960
| 984 | 397 |
Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed
Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from
page images generously made available by Google Books
GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
VOL. XXXIV. April, 1849. No. 4.
Table of Contents
The Poet Lí
The Naval Officer
Victory and Defeat
To Mother
On a Diamond Ring
The Recluse. No. I.
Rome
The Missionary, Sunlight
Thermopylæ
Lost Treasures
The Brother’s Temptation
The Unsepulchred Relics
Reminiscences of a Reader
The Gipsy Queen
The Brother’s Lament
Sonnet to Machiavelli
The Darsies
The Unmasked
Mormon Temple, Nauvoo
Rose Winters
The Zopilotes
History of the Costume of Men
The Beautiful of Earth
Wild-Birds of America
Jenny Lind
Storm-Lines
Review of New Books
Editor’s Table
Adieu, My Native Land
Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.
[Illustration: Anaïs Toudouze LE FOLLET _Robes de M^{me.}_ Bara Bréjard,
_r. Laffitte, 5—Coiffures de_ Hamelin, _pass du Saumon, 21_. _Fleurs
de_ Chagon ainé, _r. Richelieu, 81—Dentelles de_ Violard, _r. Choiseul
2^{bis}_ 8, Argyll Place, Londres. Graham’s Magazine ]
[Illustration: D. Bydgoszcz, pinx. A.L. Dick
THE BRIDGE & CHURCH OF S^{T}. ISAAC.]
GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
* * * * *
VOL. XXXIV. PHILADELPHIA, April, 1849. NO. 4.
* * * * *
THE POET LI.
A FRAGMENT FROM THE CHINESE.
BY MRS. CAROLINE. H. BUTLER, AUTHOR OF “RECOLLECTIONS OF CHINA,” “MAID OF
CHE-KI-ANG,” ETC.
PART I.
Do not draw upon you a person’s enmity, for enmity is never
appeased—injury returns upon him who injures—and sharp words
recoil against him who says them.
_Chinese Proverb._
On the green and flowery banks of the beautiful Lake Tai-hoo, whose
surface bears a thousand isles, resting like emeralds amid translucent
pearl, dwelt Whanki the mother of Lí. _The mother of Lí!_ Ah happy
distinction—ah envied title! For where, far or near, was the name could
rank with Lí on the scroll of learning—receiving even in childhood the
title of the “Exiled Immortal,” from his skill in classic and historical
lore!
Moreover, he was of a most beautiful countenance, while the antelope
that fed among the hills was not more swift of foot. Who like Lí could
draw such music from the seven silken strings of the Kin! or when with
graceful touch his fingers swept the lute, adding thereto the
well-skilled melody of his voice, youths and maidens opened their ears
to listen, for wonderful was the ravishing harmony.
Yet although the gods of learning smiled upon this youthful disciple of
Confucius, poverty came also with her iron hand, and although she could
not crush the active mind of Lí, with a strong grip, she held him back
from testing his skill with the ambitious _literati_, both old and
young, who annually flocked to the capital to present their themes
before the examiners. For even in those days as the present, money was
required to purchase the smiles of these severe judges. They must read
with _golden_ spectacles—or wo to the unhappy youth who, buoyant with
hope and—_empty pockets_, comes before them! With what contempt is his
essay cast aside, not worth the reading!
Sorely vexed, therefore, was poor Lí—and what wonder—to know that he
might safely cope with any candidate in
| 739.499406 | 3,578 |
2023-11-16 18:28:06.2229550
| 1,048 | 397 |
E-text prepared by Al Haines
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustration.
See 16777-h.htm or 16777-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777/16777-h/16777-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777/16777-h.zip)
THE HEART OF THE DESERT
(Kut-Le of the Desert)
by
HONORE WILLSIE
Author of "Still Jim"
With Frontispiece in Colors by V. Herbert Dunton
A. L. Burt Company, Publishers
114-120 East Twenty-third Street ---- New York
Published by Arrangement with Frederick A. Stokes Company
1913
[Frontispiece: Side by side, they rode off into the desert sunset.]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE VALLEY OF THE PECOS
II THE CAUCASIAN WAY
III THE INDIAN AND CAUCASIAN
IV THE INDIAN WAY
V THE PURSUIT
VI ENTERING THE DESERT KINDERGARTEN
VII THE FIRST LESSON
VIII A BROADENING HORIZON
IX TOUCH AND GO
X A LONG TRAIL
XI THE TURN IN THE TRAIL
XII THE CROSSING TRAILS
XIII AN INTERLUDE
XIV THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD
XV AN ESCAPE
XVI ADRIFT IN THE DESERT
XVII THE HEART'S OWN BITTERNESS
XVIII THE FORGOTTEN CITY
XIX THE TRAIL AGAIN
XX THE RUINED MISSION
XXI THE END OF THE TRAIL
The Heart of the Desert
CHAPTER I
THE VALLEY OF THE PECOS
Rhoda hobbled through the sand to the nearest rock. On this she sank
with a groan, clasped her slender foot with both hands and looked about
her helplessly.
She felt very small, very much alone. The infinite wastes of yellow
desert danced in heat waves against the bronze-blue sky. The girl saw
no sign of living thing save a buzzard that swept lazily across the
zenith. She turned dizzily from contemplating the vast emptiness about
her to a close scrutiny of her injured foot. She drew off her thin
satin house slipper painfully and dropped it unheedingly into a bunch
of yucca that crowded against the rock. Her silk stocking followed.
Then she sat in helpless misery, eying her blue-veined foot.
In spite of her evident invalidism, one could but wonder why she made
so little effort to help herself. She sat droopingly on the rock,
gazing from her foot to the far lavender line of the mesas. A tiny,
impotent atom of life, she sat as if the eternal why which the desert
hurls at one overwhelmed her, deprived her of hope, almost of
sensation. There was something of nobility in the steadiness with
which she gazed at the melting distances, something of pathos in her
evident resignation, to her own helplessness and weakness.
The girl was quite unconscious of the fact that a young man was
tramping up the desert behind her. He, however, had spied the white
gown long before Rhoda had sunk to the rock and had laid his course
directly for her. He was a tall fellow, standing well over six feet
and he swung through the heavy sand with an easy stride that covered
distance with astonishing rapidity. As he drew near enough to perceive
Rhoda's yellow head bent above her injured foot, he quickened his pace,
swung round the yucca thicket and pulled off his soft felt hat.
"Good-morning!" he said. "What's the matter?"
Rhoda started, hastily covered her foot, and looked up at the tall
khaki-clad figure. She never had seen the young man before, but the
desert is not formal.
"A thing like a little crayfish bit my foot," she answered; "and you
don't know how it hurts!"
"Ah, but I do!" exclaimed the young man. "A scorpion sting! Let me
see it!"
Rhoda flushed.
"Oh, never mind that!" she said. "But if you will go to the Newman
ranch-house for me and ask them to send the buckboard I'll be very
grateful. I--I feel dizzy, you know."
"Gee whiz!" exclaimed the young man. "There's no time for me to run
about the desert
| 739.542365 | 3,579 |
2023-11-16 18:28:06.7958290
| 1,316 | 150 |
Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
THE HUNCHBACK.
THE LOVE-CHASE.
BY
JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:
_LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_.
1887.
INTRODUCTION
James Sheridan Knowles was born at Cork in 1784, and died at Torquay in
December, 1862, at the age of 78. His father was a teacher of elocution,
who compiled a dictionary, and who was related to the Sheridans. He
moved to London when his son was eight years old, and there became
acquainted with William Hazlitt and Charles Lamb. The son, after his
school education, obtained a commission in the army, but gave up
everything for the stage, and made his first appearance at the Crow
Street Theatre, in Dublin. He did not become a great actor, and when he
took to writing plays he did not prove himself a great poet, but his
skill in contriving situations through which a good actor can make his
powers tell upon the public, won the heart of the great actor of his day,
and as Macready's own poet he rose to fame.
Before Macready had discovered him, Sheridan Knowles lived partly by
teaching elocution at Belfast and Glasgow, partly by practice of
elocution as an actor. In 1815 he produced at the Belfast Theatre his
first play, _Caius Gracchus_. His next play, _Virginius_ was produced at
Glasgow with great success. Macready, who had, at the age of seventeen,
begun his career as an actor at his father's theatre in Birmingham, had,
on Monday, October 5th, 1819, at the age of twenty-six, taken the
Londoners by storm in the character of Richard III Covent Garden reopened
its closed treasury. It was promptly followed by a success in
_Coriolanus_, and Macready's place was made. He was at once offered
fifty pounds a night for appearing on one evening a week at Brighton. It
was just after that turn in Macready's fortunes that a friend at Glasgow
recommended to him the part of Virginius in Sheridan Knowles's play
lately produced there. He agreed unwillingly to look at it, and says
that in April, 1820, the parcel containing the MS. came as he was going
out. He hesitated, then sat down to read it that he might get a
wearisome job over. As he read, he says, "The freshness and simplicity
of the dialogue fixed my attention; I read on and on, and was soon
absorbed in the interest of the story and the passion of its scenes, till
at its close I found myself in such a state of excitement that for a time
I was undecided what step to take. Impulse was in the ascendant, and
snatching up my pen I hurriedly wrote, as my agitated feelings prompted,
a letter to the author, to me then a perfect stranger." Bryan Procter
(Barry Cornwall) read the play next day with Macready, and confirmed him
in his admiration of it.
Macready at once got it accepted at the theatre, where nothing was spent
on scenery, but there was a good cast, and the enthusiasm of Macready as
stage manager for the occasion half affronted some of his seniors. On
the 17th of May, 1820, about a month after it came into Macready's hands,
_Virginius_ was produced at Covent Garden, where, says the actor in his
"Reminiscences," "the curtain fell amidst the most deafening applause of
a highly-excited auditory." Sheridan Knowles's fame, therefore, was
made, like that of his friend Macready, and the friendship between author
and actor continued. Sheridan Knowles had a kindly simplicity of
character, and the two qualities for which an actor most prizes a
dramatist, skill in providing opportunities for acting that will tell,
and readiness to make any changes that the actor asks for. The
postscript to his first letter to Macready was, "Make any alterations you
like in any part of the play, and I shall be obliged to you." When he
brought to the great actor his play of _William Tell_--_Caius Gracchus_
had been produced in November, 1823--there were passages of writing in it
that stopped the course of action, and, says Macready, "Knowles had less
of the tenacity of authorship than most writers," so that there was no
difficulty about alterations, Macready having in a very high degree the
tenacity of actorship. And so, in 1825, _Tell_ became another of
Macready's best successes.
Sheridan Knowles continued to write for the stage until 1845, when he was
drawn wholly from the theatre by a religious enthusiasm that caused him,
in 1851, to essay the breaking of a lance with Cardinal Wiseman on the
subject of Transubstantiation. Sir Robert Peel gave ease to his latter
days by a pension of 200 pounds a year from the Civil List, which he had
honourably earned by a career as dramatist, in which he sought to appeal
only to the higher sense of literature, and to draw enjoyment from the
purest source. Of his plays time two comedies {1} here given are all
that have kept their place upon the stage. As one of the most earnest
dramatic writers of the present century he is entitled to a little corner
in our memory. Worse work of the past has lasted longer than the plays
of Sheridan Knowles are likely to last through the future.
H. M.
THE HUNCHBACK.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
(AS ORIGINALLY
| 740.115239 | 3,580 |
2023-11-16 18:28:07.0203690
| 369 | 118 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison, and the Archives and Special
Collections, University Libraries, Ball State University
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: Book Cover]
No. 26.
CHRIST IN THE STORM.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "PEEP OF DAY."
LONDON:
JOHN HATCHARD AND SON.
1848
[Illustration]
CHRIST IN THE STORM.
There are a great many troubles in this life. Ask your father and your
mother whether this is true. Your father will say, "I have had a
great many troubles; I have found it hard to get bread for my
children." Your mother will say, "I have had a great deal of sorrow in
bringing up my little family."
My dear child, have you had any troubles? I am sure you have had some.
Have you ever felt great pain? have you lost a little baby brother or
sister? have you got into disgrace? have you been punished for your
faults?
There is one friend to whom every one may go in every trouble. It is
Jesus, the Son of God. When we are unhappy, if we cry unto him, he
will hear us and help us. Once he lived down upon this earth, and was
a man. Now he is in heaven, and he is a man still as well as God.
I will tell you how he helped some of his friends out of trouble when
he lived in this world. His friends were called disciples. One evening
they went into a ship. Jesus did not go with them; he stayed where he
was, and spent the night all alone on the top of a mountain, praying
to
| 740.339779 | 3,581 |
2023-11-16 18:28:07.8055700
| 1,176 | 405 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Way to Win
By William Le Queux
Published by Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent and Co Ltd, London.
This edition dated 1916.
The Way to Win, by William Le Queux.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
THE WAY TO WIN, BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX.
Foreword.
I do not think anyone who has studied the progress of the War with care
and patience can deny that, during the past few months, a mighty change
has come over the aspect of the great struggle.
A year ago, when I wrote "Britain's Deadly Peril," the fortunes of the
Allies appeared to be at the lowest ebb. Indomitable energy and
perseverance have since worked wonders. To-day we plainly see that the
conquering march of the Teuton has been arrested and the process of
forcing back his hordes has begun.
Britain--the fierce Lion of Britain--is at last fully aroused to the
momentous issues which hang on the decision, and has flung herself with
all her unrivalled tenacity, and with a unanimity unparalleled in our
history, into the titanic conflict.
Russia, France, and Italy have responded to the call with equal
nobility. To-day the Allies are more than a match for the Hun in
manpower; they are equal to them, at least, in the supply of munitions,
the lack of which so badly hampered our cause last year. Finally, the
great new masses of the British Army, straining at the leash, are
eagerly awaiting the signal to hurl themselves at the foe for his
destruction.
The British Navy, silent and invincible, holds the seas of all the
world, and Germany and her Allies are to-day feeling the pinch of war in
most deadly earnest. Prices in enemy countries are rising by leaps and
bounds; the food supply is beginning to fail; money is lacking; the
value of the mark is falling, and there is every prospect of a shortage
of men--cannon-fodder they were once called by Germans--in the near
future.
We are on the eve of great events.
Already we hear the ominous rumblings which prelude the breaking of the
storm. The great clash is at hand which, for good or ill, shall settle
the destinies of our world for many generations to come--perhaps for
ever.
Can we doubt the issue? Assuredly not. The spirit of our dear old
Britain and her glorious Allies is unbroken, and still unbreakable.
Cost what it may, they are fully determined to smash, once and for ever,
the accursed Teuton attempt to dominate the world and throw back the
clock of civilisation for centuries. There will be no faltering and no
turning back on Great Britain's part until that great end is attained.
Courage and resolution and a hard fist are the keys of the situation for
the Allies. We have them in abundant measure. And unless Britain is
unthinkably false to all the traditions that have made her great, our
triumph in the Near To-morrow is assured.
William Le Queux.
Devonshire Club, London, March, 1916.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE RIFT IN THE CLOUDS.
If we could imagine a being from another planet dropped suddenly on this
old earth of ours and left with the aid of maps to figure out for
himself the real position of the world-war, we could readily imagine
that it would seem to him that the Germans were winning "hands down."
Perhaps there would be a good deal of excuse for such a belief.
He would see, in the first place, that the Germans had overrun and
captured the whole of Belgium except one very small portion. He would
see that the greater part of Northern France was in their undisputed
possession. He would see that they had driven the Russians from Poland
and penetrated far within the boundaries of Russia proper.
He would also see that they had almost completely conquered or cajoled
the Balkan States, and that German trains were running from the North
Sea to Constantinople. He would see them holding apparently impregnable
lines of defences against forces at least as strong as their own--
probably much stronger. He would see them or their Allies holding up
British forces in Persia and in Mesopotamia. He would see the Italians
apparently firmly held along the mountainous boundaries of the Austrian
Empire. He would see that a great British army had been driven out of
Gallipoli. He would unquestionably come to the conclusion that the
cause of the Allies was a lost cause, and would probably conclude that
the best thing they could do would be to make a speedy peace on the best
terms the victors could be induced to grant.
And he would be unquestionably wrong in his deduction, even though we
admit the accuracy of his facts.
For, like the thoughtless and the whimperers among us, he would for want
of knowledge leave out of his consideration certain hard facts which,
properly considered, would reverse his judgment. Like the thoughtless
and the whimperers, he would judge too much from mere appearances and
would fail to see the real essential things. He would fail to see the
wood for the trees; he would mistake the shadow for the substance. Just
so the German people to-day are making the mistake of thinking that the
| 741.12498 | 3,582 |
2023-11-16 18:28:08.2789250
| 200 | 138 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
The Works of E. P. Roe
VOLUME TEN
WHAT CAN SHE DO?
ILLUSTRATED
DEDICATION
IF I WERE
TO DEDICATE THIS
BOOK IT WOULD BE TO THOSE
GIRLS WHO RESOLVE THAT THEY WILL NOT
PLAY THE POOR ROLE OF MICAWBER, THEIR ONLY CHANCE FOR
LIFE BEING THAT SOME ONE WILL "TURN UP"
WHOM THEY MAY BURDEN WITH
THEIR HELPLESS
WEIGHT
PREFACE
This book was not written to amuse, to create purposeless excitement,
or to secure a little praise as a bit of artistic work. It would
probably fail in all these things. It was written with a definite,
earnest purpose, which I trust will be apparent to the reader.
As society in our land grows older
| 741.598335 | 3,583 |
2023-11-16 18:28:08.3006710
| 1,064 | 384 |
Produced by Larry B. Harrison and The Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
THE
SAPPHIRE SIGNET
[Illustration: "I had the _worst_ time puzzling this out!" she said]
THE
SAPPHIRE SIGNET
BY
AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN
Author of "The Boarded-Up House," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
C. M. RELYEA
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1916
Copyright, 1915, 1916, by
THE CENTURY CO.
_Published, September, 1916_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE HOUSE IN CHARLTON STREET 3
II SOMETHING TURNS UP 16
III THE DISCOVERY IN THE ATTIC 32
IV A KEY TO THE MYSTERY 53
V "THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL" 65
VI A SURPRISE 79
VII THE DISCOVERIES CORINNE MADE 91
VIII BAFFLED! 102
IX INTRODUCING ALEXANDER 114
X ALEXANDER TAKES HOLD 126
XI ALEXANDER SPRINGS A SURPRISE 135
XII THE MYSTERY UNRAVELS FURTHER 149
XIII ALEXANDER ENGAGES IN SOME HISTORICAL
RESEARCH 162
XIV A BELATED DISCOVERY AND A SOLEMN CONCLAVE 179
XV SARAH TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME 192
XVI THE SAPPHIRE SIGNET 209
XVII IN WHICH SARAH CHANGES HER MIND 228
XVIII TWO SURPRISES 245
XIX THE MISSING LINKS 255
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"I had the _worst_ time puzzling this out!" she said _Frontispiece_
"Corinne noticed that the bottom of the trunk seemed
all wrong." 37
"He gazed hard at me as I stood on the lawn." 71
"Madame Mortier warned Alison that she wasn't to have
any communication with the rebels." 109
"I poked around it, top, bottom, and sides." 143
"You must welcome the latest member of the Antiquarian
Club, Miss President!" 205
He began to tap the inside of the trunk all over, carefully,
with the handle of his penknife 223
"For a minute or two she didn't answer." 265
THE SAPPHIRE SIGNET
THE SAPPHIRE SIGNET
OR
"THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL"
CHAPTER I
THE HOUSE IN CHARLTON STREET
It was five o'clock and a very dull, dark afternoon in Charlton
Street. One by one lights had twinkled out in all the little
two-story-and-dormer-windowed houses on the block,—in all but one.
The parlor windows of this house were still unlit, but behind the
flower-box in one of them a hand could be seen moving aside the white
curtains at frequent intervals and a dim face peering anxiously into
the dusk.
At ten minutes past five precisely, two trim girl-figures turned the
corner of Varick Street, hurried down the block, raced up the steps
of this same house, and waved frantically at the dark windows. An
answering wave saluted them from between the parted curtains. At the
same moment lights twinkled out from the windows, and a quick hand
pulled down the shades with a jerk, shutting out the dim street for the
night. But back of the drawn shades a small figure in an invalid-chair
held out welcoming arms to the girls who had just entered.
"My! How long you were! I thought you'd never get here to-day. And it's
been so dark and dismal all the afternoon, too!" The two girls, who
were plainly twins, knelt down, one on each side of the invalid-chair.
"We _were_ an age, I know, Margaret dear," began Bess, "but there was a
good reason. It's quite exciting,—all about the new girl!"
"Yes, you can never guess what, either!" echoed Jess, winding one of
Margaret's dark curls around her finger.
"Oh, tell me—quick!" The child's big, beautiful gray eyes fairly
sparkled with eagerness, and a faint flush tinted her delicate face.
"Is it that queer girl
| 741.620081 | 3,584 |
2023-11-16 18:28:08.6461580
| 391 | 91 |
Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
HARRY HARDING
--_Messenger “45”_
_By_
ALFRED RAYMOND
[Illustration: _The_
GOLDSMITH
_Publishing Co._
CLEVELAND OHIO
MADE IN U.S.A.]
_Copyright 1917, by_
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A MENACE TO THE SCHOOL 1
II ON THE TRAIL OF A JOB 9
III AN ANXIOUS MOMENT 27
IV A SURPRISE AND A DISAPPOINTMENT 37
V FRIENDS AND FOES 51
VI AT THE END OF THE DAY 67
VII TEDDY COMES INTO HIS OWN 75
VIII THE RECRUITS TO COMPANY A 81
IX THE BITTERNESS OF INJUSTICE 95
X BREAKERS AHEAD FOR HARRY 105
XI TEDDY BURKE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF 116
XII A DISASTROUS COMBAT 122
XIII THE MEASURE OF A MAN 129
XIV THE PRICE OF HONESTY 138
XV A FATEFUL GAME OF CATCH 148
XVI ALL IN THE DAY’S WORK 158
XVII THE SINGER AND THE SONG 169
XVIII CONFIDENCES 178
XIX THE BELATED DAWN 185
XX TEDDY’S TRIUMPH 191
XXI GETTING EVEN WITH THE GOBBLER 202
XXII
| 741.965568 | 3,585 |
2023-11-16 18:28:09.3471590
| 386 | 70 |
LIBERATION OF CHILI, PERU AND BRAZIL, FROM SPANISH AND PORTUGUESE
DOMINATION, VOLUME 2***
E-text prepared by Ted Garvin, Graeme Mackreth, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team
NARRATIVE OF SERVICES IN THE LIBERATION OF CHILI, PERU, AND BRAZIL,
FROM SPANISH AND PORTUGUESE DOMINATION
by
THOMAS, EARL OF DUNDONALD, G.C.B.
Admiral of the Red; Rear-Admiral of the Fleet, etc. etc.
VOL. II
MDCCCLIX
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
Brazilian and Portuguese factions--Don Pedro ordered to quit
Brazil--Appointed "Perpetual Protector"--Proclaimed Emperor of
Brazil--Efforts to obtain foreign officers and seamen--The naval command
offered to me--Acceptation thereof--Arrival at Rio de Janeiro--Visit of
inspection to the squadron--Condition of the vessels--Inferiority of
seamen--Imperial affability--Attempt to evade the terms offered me--This
failing, to reduce the value of my pay--Pretended commission
conferred--And refused--The point argued--I decline the command--The
Prime Minister gives in--Explanatory Portaria--Formal commission--Orders
to blockade Bahia--Portuguese faction--Averse to me from the outset.
CHAPTER II.
Attempt to cut off the enemy's ships--Disobedience to orders--Letter to
the Prime Minister--Worthlessness of the men--Their treachery--Blockade
established--Equipment of fireships--Enemy's supplies cut
off--Portuguese untrustworthy--Demonstrations of the enemy--His
pretended
| 742.666569 | 3,586 |
2023-11-16 18:28:09.7697620
| 1,083 | 1,000 |
Produced by Charlene Taylor, Linda Cantoni, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
[Transcriber's Note: Obvious printer errors have been corrected
without note.]
RICHARD WAGNER
HIS LIFE AND HIS DRAMAS
A BIOGRAPHICAL STUDY OF THE MAN AND AN EXPLANATION OF HIS WORK
BY
W.J. HENDERSON
AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF MUSIC," "PRELUDES AND STUDIES," "WHAT IS GOOD
MUSIC?" ETC.
[Illustration]
G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
_The Knickerbocker Press_
1902
Copyright, 1901
BY
W.J. HENDERSON
Set up, electrotyped, and printed, November, 1901
Reprinted February, 1902
_The Knickerbocker Press, New York_
[Illustration: Richard Wagner]
TO
ROBERT EDWIN BONNER
PREFACE
The purpose of this book is to supply Wagner lovers with a single
work which shall meet all their needs. The author has told the story
of Wagner's life, explained his artistic aims, given the history of
each of his great works, examined its literary sources, shown how
Wagner utilised them, surveyed the musical plan of each drama, and
set forth the meaning and purpose of its principal ideas. The work
is not intended to be critical, but is designed to be expository.
It aims to help the Wagner lover to a thorough knowledge and
understanding of the man and his works.
The author has consulted all the leading biographies, and for
guidance in the direction of absolute trustworthiness he is directly
indebted to Mme. Cosima Wagner, whose suggestions have been carefully
observed. He is also under a large, but not heavy, burden of
obligation to Mr. Henry Edward Krehbiel, musical critic of _The New
York Tribune_, who carefully read the manuscript of this work and
pointed out its errors. The value of Mr. Krehbiel's revision and
his hints cannot be over-estimated. Thanks are also due to Mr. Emil
Paur, conductor of the Philharmonic Society, of New York, for certain
inquiries made in Europe.
The records of first performances have been prepared with great care
and with no little labour. For the dates of those at most of the
European cities the author is indebted to an elaborate article by E.
Kastner, published in the _Allgemeine Musik. Zeitung_, of Berlin, for
July and August, 1896. The original casts have been secured, as far
as possible, from the programmes. For that of the "Flying Dutchman"
at Dresden--incorrectly given in many books on Wagner--the author
is indebted to Hofkapellmeister Ernst von Schuch, who obtained it
from the records of the Hoftheater. The name of the singer of the
Herald in the first cast of "Lohengrin," missing in all the published
histories, was supplied by Hermann Wolff, of Berlin, from the records
of Weimar. The casts of first performances in this country are not
quite complete, simply because the journalists of twenty-five years
ago did not realise their obligations to posterity. The casts were
not published in full. The records have disappeared. The theatres
in some cases--as in that of the Stadt--have long ago gone out of
existence and nothing can be done. As far as given the casts are, the
author believes, perfectly correct.
CONTENTS
PART I--THE LIFE OF WAGNER
CHAPTER PAGE
I--THE BOYHOOD OF A GENIUS 1
II--THE FIRST OPERAS 14
III--KOeNIGSBERG AND RIGA 27
IV--"THE END OF A MUSICIAN IN PARIS" 38
V--BEGINNING OF FAME AND HOSTILITY 50
VI--"LOHENGRIN" and "DIE MEISTERSINGER" 64
VII--"ART AND REVOLUTION" 73
VIII--PREACHING WHAT HE PRACTISED 85
IX--A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND 96
X--A SECOND END IN PARIS 105
XI--A MONARCH TO THE RESCUE 117
XII--SOME IDEALS REALISED 127
XIII--FINIS CORONAT OPUS 136
XIV--THE LAST DRAMA 146
XV--THE CHARACTER OF THE MAN 154
PART II--THE ARTISTIC AIMS OF WAGNER
I--THE LYRIC DRAMA AS HE FOUND IT 167
II
| 743.089172 | 3,587 |
2023-11-16 18:28:10.2312480
| 1,099 | 383 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: Knox Magee]
WITH RING OF SHIELD
"_On he came, and, to my great surprise and pleasure,
struck he my shield with the sharp point of his lance_.
"_Ah! my brave sons, ye all do know the pleasure 'tis
when, with ring of shield, ye are informed an enemy hath
come to do ye battle_."
BY KNOX MAGEE
_Illustrated by_ F. A. CARTER
GEORGE J. McLEOD
_PUBLISHER ---- TORONTO_
COPYRIGHT, 1900
BY
R. F. FENNO & COMPANY
CONTENTS
I. Sir Frederick Harleston
II. The Maidens
III. A First Brush with the Enemy
IV. The Taking of Berwick
V. From Berwick to Windsor
VI. The King's Gifts
VII. The Ball at the Castle
VIII. The Duel
IX. The King's Death
X. I am Sent to Ludlow
XI. Some Happenings at Windsor
XII. Gloucester Shows his Hand
XIII. The Flight from the Palace
XIV. I Reach Westminster
XV. Michael and Catesby
XVI. My Dangerous Position
XVII. At the Sanctuary
XVIII. Richard Triumphs
XIX. A Message is Sent to Richmond
XX. Before the Tournament
XXI. The Tournament
XXII. A Midnight Adventure
XXIII. The Arrest
XXIV. In the Tower
XXV. Michael and I
XXVI. The House with the Flag
XXVII. The Field of Bosworth
XXVIII. Conclusion
Illustrations
Knox Magee...................... _Frontispiece_
"Both our lances flew into a thousand pieces."
"The signal was then given."
"I am to blame, and I alone should suffer."
"Always remember thy mother and this, her advice."
"Ha, thou blond varmint."
"I climbed wearily to the top."
"Come on, ye pack of cowards."
With Ring of Shield
CHAPTER I
SIR FREDERICK HARLESTON
In these days, when the air is filled with the irritating, peevish
sounds of chattering gossips, which tell of naught but the scandals of
a court, where Queens are as faithless as are their lives brief,
methinks it will not be amiss for me to tell a story of more martial
days, when gossips told of armies marching and great battles fought,
with pointed lance, and with the bright swords' flash, and with the
lusty ring of shield.
Now, my friend Harleston doth contend, that peace and quiet, without
the disturbing clamour of war's dread alarms, do help to improve the
mind, and thus the power of thought is added unto. This, I doubt not,
is correct in the cases of some men; but there are others, to whom
peace and quiet do but bring a lack of their appreciation. I grant
that to such a mind as Harleston's, peaceful and undisturbed meditation
are the fields in which they love to stroll, and pluck, with tender
hand, and thought-bowed head, the most beautiful and most rare of
flowers: but then, such even-balanced brains as his are few and far
between; and even he, so fond of thought and study, did love to dash,
with levelled lance and waving plumes, against the best opponent, and
hurl him from his saddle.
And there is Michael, which ever thinks the same as do myself, and
longs for fresh obstacles to lay his mighty hand upon and crush, as he
would a reed.
It is of those bygone days of struggle and deep intrigue that I now
shall write. I do hope that some of ye--my sons and grandsons--may,
after I am laid to rest, have some worthy obstacles to overcome, in
order that ye may the better enjoy your happiness when it is allotted
unto you. Still do I pray, with my old heart's truest earnestness,
that no one of my blood may have as great trials as I went through; but
in which I had the noble assistance and sympathy of the best friends
ever man was blest with. I shall now tell of my meeting with the first
of these, and later in the tale I shall tell ye of the other.
I, Walter Bradley, then a faithful servant of his Majesty King Edward
IV, was sitting one evening in my room at the palace of the aforesaid
King, at Windsor, engaged in the examination of some of mine arms, to
make sure that my servants had put them all in proper
| 743.550658 | 3,588 |
2023-11-16 18:28:10.5086770
| 986 | 433 |
Produced by Barbara Watson and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
SONGS OF THE
PRAIRIE
BY
ROBERT J. C. STEAD
Author of "PRAIRIE BORN."
New York
THE PLATT & PECK CO.
Copyright 1912, By
The Platt & Peck Co.
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Prairie 1
The Gramophone 4
The Plow 8
The Mothering 12
Hustlin' in My Jeans 15
The Homesteader 20
Vain Suitors 24
God's Signalman 26
Going Home 32
Just Be Glad 38
The Canadian Rockies 40
A Prairie Heroine 42
The Seer 51
The Son of Marquis Noddle 56
The Prodigals 62
The Squad of One 64
Alkali Hall 70
Prairie Born 76
"A Colonial" 81
Little Tim Trotter 84
The Vortex 86
The Old Guard 91
Kid McCann 93
Who Owns the Land? 99
A Race for Life 103
THE PRAIRIE
The City? Oh, yes, the City
Is a good enough place for a while,
It fawns on the clever and witty,
And welcomes the rich with a smile;
It lavishes money as water,
It boasts of its palace and hall,
But the City is only the daughter--
The Prairie is mother of all!
The City is all artificial,
Its life is a fashion-made fraud,
Its wisdom, though learned and judicial,
Is far from the wisdom of God;
Its hope is the hope of ambition,
Its lust is the lust to acquire,
And the larger it grows, its condition
Sinks lower in pestilent mire.
The City is cramped and congested,
The haunt and the covert of crime;
The Prairie is broad, unmolested,
It points to the high and sublime;
Where only the sky is above you
And only the distance in view,
With no one to jostle or shove you--
It's there a man learns to be true!
Where the breeze whispers over the willows
Or sighs in the dew laden grass,
And the rain clouds, like big, stormy billows,
Besprinkle the land as they pass;
With the smudge-fire alight in the distance,
The wild duck alert on the stream,
Where life is a psalm of existence
And opulence only a dream.
Where wide as the plan of creation
The Prairies stretch ever away,
And beckon a broad invitation
To fly to their bosom, and stay;
The prairie fire smell in the gloaming--
The water-wet wind in the spring--
An empire untrod for the roaming--
Ah, this is a life for a king!
When peaceful and pure as a river
They lie in the light of the moon,
You know that the Infinite Giver
Is stringing your spirit a-tune;
That life is not told in the telling,
That death does not whisper adieu,
And deep in your bosom up-welling,
You know that the Promise is true!
To those who have seen it and smelt it,
To those who have loved it alone
To those who have known it and felt it--
The Prairie is ever their own;
And far though they wander, unwary,
Far, far from the breath of the plain,
A thought of the wind on the Prairie
Will set their blood rushing again.
Then you to the City who want it,
Go, grovel its gain-glutted streets,
Be one of the ciphers that haunt it,
Or sit in its opulent seats;
But for me, where the Prairies are reaching
As far as the vision can scan--
Ah, that is the prayer and the preaching
That goes to the heart of a man!
THE GRAMOPHONE
Where the lonely settler's shanty
| 743.828087 | 3,589 |
2023-11-16 18:28:10.6017600
| 1,091 | 405 |
Produced by Emmy, Dianna Adair 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: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic
text is surrounded by _underscores_.]
TESSA
Our Little Italian Cousin
THE
Little Cousin Series
(TRADE MARK)
Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in
tint. Cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover,
per volume, 60 cents
LIST OF TITLES
BY MARY HAZELTON WADE
(unless otherwise indicated)
=Our Little African Cousin=
=Our Little Alaskan Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Arabian Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Armenian Cousin=
=Our Little Australian Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Brazilian Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Brown Cousin=
=Our Little Canadian Cousin=
By Elizabeth R. MacDonald
=Our Little Chinese Cousin=
By Isaac Taylor Headland
=Our Little Cuban Cousin=
=Our Little Dutch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Egyptian Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little English Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Eskimo Cousin=
=Our Little French Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little German Cousin=
=Our Little Greek Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Hawaiian Cousin=
=Our Little Hindu Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Hungarian Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Indian Cousin=
=Our Little Irish Cousin=
=Our Little Italian Cousin=
=Our Little Japanese Cousin=
=Our Little Jewish Cousin=
=Our Little Korean Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Mexican Cousin=
By Edward C. Butler
=Our Little Norwegian Cousin=
=Our Little Panama Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Persian Cousin=
By E. C. Shedd
=Our Little Philippine Cousin=
=Our Little Porto Rican Cousin=
=Our Little Russian Cousin=
=Our Little Scotch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Siamese Cousin=
=Our Little Spanish Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Swedish Cousin=
By Claire M. Coburn
=Our Little Swiss Cousin=
=Our Little Turkish Cousin=
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
New England Building, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: TESSA]
TESSA
Our Little Italian Cousin
By Mary Hazelton Wade
_Illustrated by_ L. J. Bridgman
[Illustration]
Boston
L. C. Page & Company
_PUBLISHERS_
_Copyright, 1903_
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES
(_Trade Mark_)
Published, July, 1903
Fifth Impression, June, 1908
Sixth Impression, November, 1909
Seventh Impression, August, 1910
Preface
MANY people from other lands have crossed the ocean to make a new home
for themselves in America. They love its freedom. They are happy here
under its kindly rule. They suffer less from want and hunger than in the
country of their birthplace.
Their children are blessed with the privilege of attending fine schools
and with the right to learn about this wonderful world, side by side
with the sons and daughters of our most successful and wisest people.
Among these newer-comers to America are the Italians, many of whom will
never again see their own country, of which they are still so justly
proud. They will tell you it is a land of wonderful beauty; that it has
sunsets so glorious that both artists and poets try to picture them for
us again and again; that its history is that of a strong and mighty
people who once held rule over all the civilized world; that thousands
of travellers visit its shores every year to look upon its paintings and
its statues, for it may truly be called the art treasure-house of the
world.
When you meet your little Italian cousins, with their big brown eyes and
olive skins, whether it be in school or on the street, perhaps you will
feel a little nearer and more friendly if you turn your attention for a
while to their home
| 743.92117 | 3,590 |
2023-11-16 18:28:10.6893710
| 2,359 | 32 |
Produced by David Widger
THE DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS M.A. F.R.S.
CLERK OF THE ACTS AND SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY
TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SHORTHAND MANUSCRIPT IN THE PEPYSIAN LIBRARY
MAGDALENE COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE BY THE REV. MYNORS BRIGHT M.A. LATE FELLOW
AND PRESIDENT OF THE COLLEGE
(Unabridged)
WITH LORD BRAYBROOKE'S NOTES
EDITED WITH ADDITIONS BY
HENRY B. WHEATLEY F.S.A.
DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS.
JULY & AUGUST
1662
July 1st. To the office, and there we sat till past noon, and then
Captain Cuttance and I by water to Deptford, where the Royal James (in
which my Lord went out the last voyage, though [he] came back in the
Charles) was paying off by Sir W. Batten and Sir W. Pen. So to dinner,
where I had Mr. Sheply to dine with us, and from thence I sent to my Lord
to know whether she should be a first rate, as the men would have her, or
a second. He answered that we should forbear paying the officers and such
whose pay differed upon the rate of the ship, till he could speak with his
Royal Highness. To the Pay again after dinner, and seeing of Cooper, the
mate of the ship, whom I knew in the Charles, I spoke to him about
teaching the mathematiques, and do please myself in my thoughts of
learning of him, and bade him come to me in a day or two. Towards evening
I left them, and to Redriffe by land, Mr. Cowly, the Clerk of the Cheque,
with me, discoursing concerning the abuses of the yard, in which he did
give me much light. So by water home, and after half an hour sitting
talking with my wife, who was afeard I did intend to go with my Lord to
fetch the Queen mother over, in which I did clear her doubts, I went to
bed by daylight, in order to my rising early to-morrow.
2nd. Up while the chimes went four, and to put down my journal, and so to
my office, to read over such instructions as concern the officers of the
Yard; for I am much upon seeing into the miscarriages there. By and by,
by appointment, comes Commissioner Pett; and then a messenger from Mr.
Coventry, who sits in his boat expecting us, and so we down to him at the
Tower, and there took water all, and to Deptford (he in our passage taking
notice how much difference there is between the old Captains for obedience
and order, and the King's new Captains, which I am very glad to hear him
confess); and there we went into the Store-house, and viewed first the
provisions there, and then his books, but Mr. Davis himself was not there,
he having a kinswoman in the house dead, for which, when by and by I saw
him, he do trouble himself most ridiculously, as if there was never
another woman in the world; in which so much laziness, as also in the
Clerkes of the Cheque and Survey (which after one another we did examine),
as that I do not perceive that there is one-third of their duties
performed; but I perceive, to my great content, Mr. Coventry will have
things reformed. So Mr. Coventry to London, and Pett and I to the Pay,
where Sir Williams both were paying off the Royal James still, and so to
dinner, and to the Pay again, where I did relieve several of my Lord
Sandwich's people, but was sorry to see them so peremptory, and at every
word would, complain to my Lord, as if they shall have such a command over
my Lord. In the evening I went forth and took a walk with Mr. Davis, and
told him what had passed at his office to-day, and did give him my advice,
and so with the rest by barge home and to bed
3rd. Up by four o'clock and to my office till 8 o'clock, writing over two
copies of our contract with Sir W. Rider, &c., for 500 ton of hempe,
which, because it is a secret, I have the trouble of writing over as well
as drawing. Then home to dress myself, and so to the office, where
another fray between Sir R. Ford and myself about his yarn, wherein I find
the board to yield on my side, and was glad thereof, though troubled that
the office should fall upon me of disobliging Sir Richard. At noon we all
by invitation dined at the Dolphin with the Officers of the Ordnance;
where Sir W. Compton, Mr. O'Neale,'and other great persons, were, and a
very great dinner, but I drank as I still do but my allowance of wine.
After dinner, was brought to Sir W. Compton a gun to discharge seven
times, the best of all devices that ever I saw, and very serviceable, and
not a bawble; for it is much approved of, and many thereof made. Thence
to my office all the afternoon as long as I could see, about setting many
businesses in order. In the evening came Mr. Lewis to me, and very
ingeniously did enquire whether I ever did look into the business of the
Chest at Chatham;
[Pepys gives some particulars about the Chest on November 13th,
1662. "The Chest at Chatham was originally planned by Sir Francis
Drake and Sir John Hawkins in 1588, after the defeat of the Armada;
the seamen voluntarily agreed to have 'defalked' out of their wages
certain sums to form a fund for relief. The property became
considerable, as well as the abuses, and in 1802 the Chest was
removed to Greenwich. In 1817, the stock amounted to L300,000
Consols."--Hist. of Rochester, p. 346.--B.]
and after my readiness to be informed did appear to him, he did produce a
paper, wherein he stated the government of the Chest to me; and upon the
whole did tell me how it hath ever been abused, and to this day is; and
what a meritorious act it would be to look after it; which I am resolved
to do, if God bless me; and do thank him very much for it. So home, and
after a turn or two upon the leads with my wife, who has lately had but
little of my company, since I begun to follow my business, but is
contented therewith since she sees how I spend my time, and so to bed.
4th. Up by five o'clock, and after my journall put in order, to my office
about my business, which I am resolved to follow, for every day I see what
ground I get by it. By and by comes Mr. Cooper, mate of the Royall
Charles, of whom I intend to learn mathematiques, and do begin with him
to-day, he being a very able man, and no great matter, I suppose, will
content him. After an hour's being with him at arithmetique (my first
attempt being to learn the multiplication-table); then we parted till
to-morrow. And so to my business at my office again till noon, about
which time Sir W. Warren did come to me about business, and did begin to
instruct me in the nature of fine timber and deals, telling me the nature
of every sort; and from that we fell to discourse of Sir W. Batten's
corruption and the people that he employs, and from one discourse to
another of the kind. I was much pleased with his company, and so staid
talking with him all alone at my office till 4 in the afternoon, without
eating or drinking all day, and then parted, and I home to eat a bit, and
so back again to my office; and toward the evening came Mr. Sheply, who is
to go out of town to-morrow, and so he and I with much ado settled his
accounts with my Lord, which, though they be true and honest, yet so
obscure, that it vexes me to see in what manner they are kept. He being
gone, and leave taken of him as of a man likely not to come to London
again a great while, I eat a bit of bread and butter, and so to bed. This
day I sent my brother Tom, at his request, my father's old Bass Viall
which he and I have kept so long, but I fear Tom will do little good at
it.
5th. To my office all the morning, to get things ready against our
sitting, and by and by we sat and did business all the morning, and at
noon had Sir W. Pen, who I hate with all my heart for his base treacherous
tricks, but yet I think it not policy to declare it yet, and his son
William, to my house to dinner, where was also Mr. Creed and my cozen
Harry Alcocke. I having some venison given me a day or two ago, and so I
had a shoulder roasted, another baked, and the umbles
[The umbles are the liver, kidneys, and other portions of the inside
of the deer. They were usually made into pies, and old cookery
books contain directions for the making of 'umble pies.']
baked in a pie, and all very well done. We were merry as I could be in
that company, and the more because I would not seem otherwise to Sir W.
Pen, he being within a day or two to go for Ireland. After dinner he and
his son went away, and Mr. Creed would, with all his rhetoric, have
persuaded me to have gone to a play; and in good earnest I find my nature
desirous to have gone, notwithstanding my promise and my business, to
which I have lately kept myself so close, but I did refuse it, and I hope
shall ever do so, and above all things it is considerable that my mind was
never in my life in so good a condition of quiet as it has been since I
have followed my business and seen myself to get greater and greater
fitness in my employment, and honour every day more than other. So at my
office all the
| 744.008781 | 3,591 |
2023-11-16 18:28:10.7126920
| 411 | 75 |
E-text prepared by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed Proofreaders
Canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(https://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 51064-h.htm or 51064-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51064/51064-h/51064-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51064/51064-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/rubiytofmoto00well
RUBÁIYÁT OF A MOTOR CAR
[Illustration]
RUBÁIYÁT OF A MOTOR CAR
by
CAROLYN WELLS
Author of
Idle Idyls, Folly For The Wise,
A Nonsense Anthology, &c.
[Illustration]
With illustrations by
Frederick Strothmann
New York
Dodd, Mead Company
1906
Copyright, 1906, By The Curtis Publishing Company
Copyright, 1906, By Dodd, Mead and Company
Published, March, 1906
¶To the crank that
makes the machine go
Rubáiyát of a Motor Car
Wake! For the “Honk,” that scatters into flight
The Hens before it in a Flapping Fright,
Drives straight up to your Door, and bids you Come
Out for a Morning Hour of Sheer Delight!
Come, fill the Tank, adjust the Valve and Spring,
Your Automobile Garments 'round you Fling;
The Bird Of Time wants but to get away;
(I think that name
| 744.032102 | 3,592 |
2023-11-16 18:28:10.7796000
| 1,081 | 425 |
Produced by David Widger
THE BEGINNING OF THE SEA STORY OF AUSTRALIA
From "The Tapu Of Banderah and Other Stories"
By Louis Becke
C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.
1901
To many people in England the mention of Australia conjures pictures of
tented gold-fields and tall, black-bearded, red-shirted bushrangers; of
mounted police recruited from "flaxen-haired younger sons of good old
English families, well-groomed and typically Anglo-Saxon"; of squatters
and sheep runs; of buckjumpers ridden by the most daring riders in the
world; and of much more to the same purpose; but never is presented a
picture of the sea or sailor folk.
Yet the first half-century of Australian history is all to do with the
ocean. The British sailor laid the foundation of the Australian nation,
and, in the beginning, more than any other class, the sailorman did the
colonising--and did it well. This, however, is the story of most British
possessions, and generally it is gratefully remembered and the sailor
duly credited and kindly thought of for his work. But in these days
the dry west wind from the back blocks seems to have blown the taste of
brine and the sound of the seethe of the curling "white horse" out of
the mind of the native-born Australian; and the sailing day of a mail
boat is the only thing that the average colonial knows or cares to know
about salt water.
To write on such a subject as this, one has to leave out so much, that
it is necessary to begin almost in the middle in order to reach an
ending. Sea exploration and coast surveying opened the ways; whaling--it
may surprise the reader, but it is nevertheless true--was once the main
support of Australia and New Zealand; and runaway sailors formed a
very considerable part of the back country population, such men making
handier and better farm labourers, stockmen, and, later on, miners,
by reason of their adaptability to strange surroundings, than
ticket-of-leave men or the average free emigrant.
The first four successive Governors of Australia--in the beginning, be
it remembered, the continent was one colony--were captains in the Navy.
Governing in those rough days was not a mere master-of-the-ceremonies
appointment, and Phillip, Hunter, King, and Bligh, if they made
mistakes, considering their previous training, the populations they
governed and the times in which they lived, amply justify Palmerston's
words that if he wanted a thing done well in a distant part of the
world; when he wanted a man with a good head, a good heart, lots of
pluck, and plenty of common sense--he would always send for a captain of
the Navy.
Phillip, the first of these Governors, was sent out to found "a penal
settlement at Botany Bay, on the coast of New Holland," and did the work
in such fashion, in spite of every discouragement from the forces of
nature, the Home Government, and his own officers, as to well entitle
him to a place among the builders of Greater Britain. What was known
of Australia, or rather New Holland--the name of Australia was still in
futurity--in 1788, when Phillip first landed on its shores?
Let us say nothing of Spanish, Portuguese, and Dutch voyages; of wrecks
and piracies; of maroonings, and massacres by blacks; of the discoveries
of Dampier and of Cook, but sum the whole up thus: the east coast of
Australia, from its northernmost extremity to its southernmost,
was practically unknown to the world, and was absolutely unknown to
Englishmen until Cook's first voyage. Cook, in the _Endeavour_, ran
along the whole east coast, entering a few bays, naming many points,
and particularly describing Botany Bay where he stayed some little time;
then he sailed through Torres Straits, and thence, _via_ Batavia, home
to England, where he arrived in June, 1771. The English Government took
no advantage of his discoveries until 1786, when Botany Bay was
fixed upon as the site of a new penal settlement; and this choice was
determined, more than anything else, by the advice of Sir Joseph Banks,
who, from the time of his voyage with Cook in the _Endeavour_ till his
death, took the keenest interest in the continent; and colonists are
more indebted to the famous naturalist for his friendly services than to
any other civilian Englishman of the time.
Phillip's commission ordered him to proceed to Botany Bay, but
authorised him to choose another site for the settlement if he
considered a better could be found. He arrived with his fleet of
transports in 1788, after a voyage of many months' duration, so managed
that, though the fleet was the first to make the passage and was made
up
| 744.09901 | 3,593 |
2023-11-16 18:28:10.8826480
| 4,076 | 42 |
Produced by Heiko Evermann, Paul Clark, Peter-John Parisis
(scanning, posting to archive.org) 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:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible.
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
Bold text has been marked with =equals signs=.
Money:
Thoughts for God's Stewards
By Rev. Andrew Murray.
Authorized Editions, upon which royalties are paid to the author.
=Abide in Christ.= 16mo, paper, _net_, 25c.; cloth, 50c.; 12mo, cloth
$1.00
=Like Christ.= 16mo, paper, _net_, 25c.; cloth, 50c.; 12mo, cloth
1.00
=With Christ= in the School of Prayer. 16mo, paper, _net_, 25c.; cloth,
50c.; 12mo, cloth 1.00
=Holy in Christ.= 16mo, paper, _net_, 25c.; cloth, 50c.; 12mo, cloth
1.00
=The Spirit of Christ.= 16mo, paper, _net_, 25c.; cloth, 50c.; 12mo,
cloth 1.00
=The Children for Christ.= 12mo, cloth 1.00
=The Master's Indwelling=; Northfield Addresses, 1895. 16mo, cloth,
50c.; 12mo, cloth .75
=The New Life.= Words of God for Young Disciples of Christ. 12mo, cloth
1.00
=Be Perfect.= Message from the Father in Heaven to His Children on
Earth. Meditations for a month. 16mo, cloth .50
=Why Do You Not Believe?= 16mo, cloth .50
=Let Us Draw Nigh.= 16mo, cloth .50
=Waiting on God.= Daily Messages for a month. 16mo, cloth .50
=Humility.= The Beauty of Holiness. 18mo, cloth .50
=The Deeper Christian Life.= An aid to its Attainment. 18mo, cloth .50
=Jesus Himself.= With Portrait of the Author. 18mo, cloth .35
=Love Made Perfect.= 18mo, cloth .35
=The Holiest of All.= An Exposition of the Epistle to the Hebrews. 8vo,
cloth, _net_ 2.00
=The Power of the Spirit=, and other selections from the writings of
William Law. With Introduction. 12mo, cloth 1.00
Fleming H. Revell Company
NEW YORK: 112 Fifth Ave.
CHICAGO: 63 Washington St.
TORONTO: 140 & 142 Yonge St.
Money:
Thoughts for God's Stewards
BY
Rev. Andrew Murray
AUTHOR OF
"With Christ," "Abide in Christ,"
"Waiting on God," etc.
[Illustration]
New York Chicago Toronto
Fleming H. Revell Company
MDCCCXCVII
Copyright, 1897
BY
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. CHRIST'S ESTIMATE OF MONEY 7
II. THE HOLY SPIRIT AND MONEY 24
III. THE GRACE OF GOD AND MONEY 42
IV. THE POVERTY OF CHRIST 63
[Illustration]
I
CHRIST'S ESTIMATE OF MONEY
"Jesus beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many
that were rich cast in much. And a certain poor widow came, and
cast in a farthing. Jesus called His disciples, and saith unto
them, This poor widow hath cast more in than all: for all they did
cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all
that she had, even all her living."--_Mark_ xii. 41.
In all our religion and our Bible study, it is of the greatest
consequence to find out what the mind of Christ is, to think as He
thought, and to feel just as He felt. There is not a question that
concerns us, not a single matter that ever comes before us, but we find
in the words of Christ something for our guidance and help. We want
to-day to get at the mind of Christ about Money; to know exactly what He
thought, and then to think and act just as He would do. This is not an
easy thing. We are so under the influence of the world around us, that
the fear of becoming utterly unpractical if we thought and acted just
like Christ, easily comes upon us. Let us not be afraid; if we really
desire to find out what is His mind, He will guide us to what He wants
us to think and do. Only be honest in the thought: I want to have Christ
teach me how to possess and how to use my money.
Look at Him for a moment sitting here over against the treasury,
watching the people putting in their gifts. Thinking about money in the
church, looking after the collection: we often connect that with Judas,
or some hard-worked deacon, or the treasurer or collector of some
society. But see here--Jesus sits and watches the collection. And as He
does it, He weighs each gift in the balance of God, and puts its value
on it. In heaven He does this still. Not a gift for any part of God's
work, great or small, but He notices it, and puts its value on it for
the blessing, if any, that it is to bring in time or eternity. And He is
willing, even here on earth in the waiting heart, to let us know what He
thinks of our giving. Giving money is a part of our religious life, is
watched over by Christ, and must be regulated by His word. Let us try
and discover what the scriptures have to teach us.
_1. Money giving a sure test of character._
In the world money is the standard of value. It is difficult to express
all that money means. It is the symbol of labor and enterprise and
cleverness. It is often the token of God's blessing on diligent effort.
It is the equivalent of all that it can procure of the service of mind
or body, of property or comfort or luxury, of influence and power. No
wonder that the world loves it, seeks it above everything, and often
worships it. No wonder that it is the standard of value not only for
material things, but for man himself, and that a man is too often valued
according to his money.
It is, however, not only thus in the kingdom of this world, but in the
kingdom of heaven too, that a man is judged by his money, and yet on a
different principle. The world asks, _what_ does a man own? Christ,
_how_ does he use it? The world thinks more about the money getting;
Christ about the money giving. And when a man gives, the world still
asks, _what_ does he give? Christ asks, how does he give? The world
looks at the money and its amount, Christ at the man and his motive. See
this in the story of the poor widow. Many that were rich cast in _much_;
but it was _out of their abundance;_ there was no real sacrifice in it;
their life was as full and comfortable as ever, it cost them nothing.
There was no special love or devotion to God in it; part of an easy and
traditional religion. The widow cast in _a farthing_. Out of her want
she cast in all that she had, even all her living. She gave all to God
without reserve, without holding back anything, she gave all.
How different our standard and Christ's. We ask how much a man _gives_.
Christ asks, how much he _keeps_. We look at the gift. Christ asks
whether the gift was a sacrifice. The widow kept nothing over, she gave
all; the gift won His heart and approval, for it was in the spirit of
His own self-sacrifice, who, being rich, became poor for our own sakes.
They--out of their abundance--cast in much: She, out of her want--all
that she had.
But if our Lord wanted us to do as she did, why did He not leave a clear
command? How gladly then would we do it. Ah! there you have it. You want
a command to make you do it: that would just be the spirit of the world
in the church looking at _what_ we give, at our giving all. And that is
just what Christ does not wish and will not have. He wants the generous
love that does it unbidden. He wants every gift to be a gift warm and
bright with love, a true free will offering. If you want the Master's
approval as the poor widow had it, remember one thing: you must put all
at His feet, hold all at His disposal. And that, as the spontaneous
expression of a love that, like Mary's, cannot help giving, just because
it loves.
All my money giving--what a test of character! Lord Jesus! Oh give me
grace to love Thee intently, that I may know how to give.
_2. Money giving a great means of grace._
Christ called His disciples to come and listen while He talked to them
about the giving He saw there. It was to guide their giving and ours.
Our giving, if we listen to Christ with the real desire to learn, will
have more influence on our growth in grace than we know.
The spirit of the world, "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye,
and the pride of life." Money is the great means the world has for
gratifying its desires. Christ has said of His people, "they are not of
the world, as I am not of the world." They are to show in their disposal
of money that they act on unworldly principle, that the spirit of heaven
teaches them how to use it. And what does that spirit suggest? Use it
for spiritual purposes, for what will last for eternity, for what is
pleasing to God. "They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh and
its lusts." One of the ways of manifesting and maintaining the
crucifixion of the flesh is never to use money to gratify it. And the
way to conquer every temptation to do so, is to have the heart filled
with large thoughts of the spiritual power of money. Would you learn to
keep the flesh crucified--refuse to spend a penny on its gratification.
As much as money spent on self, may nourish and strengthen and comfort
self, money sacrificed to God may help the soul in the victory that
overcometh the world and the flesh.
Our whole life of faith may be strengthened by the way we deal with
money. Many men have to be engaged continually in making money--by
nature the heart is dragged down and bound to earth in dealing with what
is the very life of the world. It is faith that can give a continual
victory over this temptation. Every thought of the danger of money,
every effort to resist it, every loving gift to God, helps our life of
faith. We look at things in the very light of God. We judge of them as
out of eternity, and the money passing through our hands and devoted to
God may be a daily education in faith and heavenly-mindedness.
Very specially may our money giving strengthen our life of love. Every
grace needs to be exercised if it is to grow; most of all is this true
of love. And--did we but know it--how our money might develop and
strengthen our love, as it called us to the careful and sympathizing
consideration of the needs of those around us. Every call for money, and
every response we give, might be the stirring of a new love, and the aid
to a fuller surrender to its blessed claims.
Money giving may be one of your choicest means of grace, a continuous
fellowship with God in the renewal of your surrender of your all to
Him, and in proof of the earnestness of your heart to walk before Him in
self-denial, and faith and love.
_3. Money giving a wonderful power for God._
What a wonderful religion Christianity is. It takes money, the very
embodiment of the power of sense of this world, with its self-interest,
its covetousness, and its pride, and it changes it into an instrument
for God's service and glory.
Think of the poor. What help and happiness is brought to tens of
thousands of helpless ones by the timely gift of a little money from the
hand of love. God has allowed the difference of rich and poor for this
very purpose--that just as in the interchange of buying and selling
mutual dependence upon each other is maintained among men--so in the
giving and receiving of charity there should be abundant scope for the
blessedness of doing and receiving good. He said, "It is more blessed to
give than to receive." What a Godlike privilege and blessedness to have
the power of relieving the needy and making glad the heart of the poor
by gold or silver! What a blessed religion that makes the money we give
away a source of greater pleasure than that which we spend on ourselves!
The latter is mostly spent on what is temporal and carnal, that spent in
the work of love has eternal value, and brings double happiness, to
ourselves and others.
Think of the church and its work in this world; of missions at home and
abroad, and the thousand agencies for winning men from sin to God and
Holiness. Is it indeed true that the coin of this world, by being cast
into God's treasury in the right spirit, can receive the stamp of the
mint of heaven, and be accepted in exchange for heavenly blessings? It
is true. The gifts of faith and love go not only into the Church's
treasury, but into God's own treasury, and are paid out again in
heavenly goods. And that not according to the earthly standard of value,
where the question always is, How much? but according to the standard of
heaven, where men's judgments of much and little, great and small, are
all unknown.
Christ has immortalized a poor widow's farthing. With His approval it
shines through the ages brighter than the brightest gold. It has been a
blessing to tens of thousands in the lesson it has taught. It tells you
that your farthing, if it be your all, that your gift, if it be honestly
given (as you all ought to give to the Lord), has His approval, His
stamp, His eternal blessing.
If we did but take more time in quiet thoughtfulness for the Holy Spirit
to show us our Lord Jesus in charge of the Heavenly Mint, stamping every
true gift, and then using it for the Kingdom, surely our money would
begin to shine with a new lustre. And we should begin to say--The less I
can spend on myself, and the more on my Lord, the richer I am. And we
shall see how, as the widow was richer in her gift and her grace than
the many rich, so he is richest who truly gives all he can.
_4. Money giving a continual help on the ladder to heaven._
You know how often our Lord Jesus spake of this in His parables. In that
of the unjust steward He said, Make friends of the Mammon of
unrighteousness, that they may receive you in the eternal habitations.
In the parable of the talents He said, "Thou oughtest to have put _my
money_." The man who had not used his talent, lost all. In the parable
of the sheep and the goats, it is they who have cared for the needy and
the wretched in His name, who shall hear the word--Come, ye blessed of
my Father.
We cannot purchase heaven--as little with money as with works. But in
your money giving, heavenly-mindedness and love to Christ, and love to
men, and devotion to God's work, are cultivated and proved. The "Come,
ye blessed of My Father, inherit the Kingdom," will take count of the
money truly spent on Christ and his work. Our money giving must prepare
us for heaven.
Oh! how many there are who if heaven and holiness could be bought for a
thousand pounds would give it. No money can buy those. But if they only
knew, money can wondrously help on the path of holiness and heaven.
Money given in the spirit of self-sacrifice, and love, and faith in Him
who has paid all, brings a rich and eternal reward. Day by day give as
God blesses and as He asks--it will help to bring heaven nearer to you,
it will help to bring _you_ nearer to heaven.
The Christ who sat over against the treasury is my Christ. He watches my
gifts. What is given in the spirit of whole-hearted devotion and love He
accepts. He teaches His disciples to judge as He judges. He will teach
me how to give--how much, how lovingly, how truthfully.
Money--this is what I want to learn from Him above all--money, the cause
of so much temptation and sin, and sorrow and eternal loss; money, as
it is received and administered and distributed at the feet of Jesus,
the Lord of the Treasury, becomes one of God's choicest channels of
grace to myself and to others. In this, too, we are more than conquerors
through Him who loved us.
Lord! give Thy Church, in her poverty, give us all, the spirit of the
poor widow.
[Illustration]
II
THE HOLY SPIRIT AND MONEY
When the Holy Spirit came down at Pentecost to dwell in men, He assumed
the charge and control of their whole life. They were to be or do
nothing that was not under His inspiration and leading. In everything
they were to move and live and have their being "in the Spirit," to be
wholly spiritual men. Hence it followed as a necessity that their
possessions and property, that their money and its appropriations were
subjected to His rule too, and that their income and
| 744.202058 | 3,594 |
2023-11-16 18:28:11.0272670
| 1,110 | 393 |
Produced by Meredith Bach, Delphine Lettau and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Fifteenth Volume
LITTLE CLASSICS
EDITED BY
ROSSITER JOHNSON
Minor Poems
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1900
COPYRIGHT, 1875, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS.
PAGE
AE FOND KISS _Robert Burns_ 52
AGE OF WISDOM, THE _William Makepeace Thackeray_ 115
ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD, THE _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 146
ASTARTE _Robert Bulwer Lytton_ 54
BETROTHED ANEW _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ 86
BLINDNESS, ON HIS _John Milton_ 143
BRAVE AT HOME, THE _Thomas Buchanan Read_ 142
BREAK, BREAK, BREAK _Alfred Tennyson_ 53
BRIDAL DIRGE, A _Bryan Waller Procter_ 163
BROOKSIDE, THE _Richard Monckton Milnes_ 36
BUGLE-SONG _Alfred Tennyson_ 40
CAVALIER'S SONG, THE _William Motherwell_ 132
CHAMBERED NAUTILUS, THE _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ 214
CHANGES _Robert Bulwer Lytton_ 71
CHILDREN'S HOUR, THE _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 152
CHRISTMAS HYMN, A _Alfred Dommett_ 217
CLOUD, THE _John Wilson_ 213
COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM _Thomas Moore_ 46
CORONACH _Sir Walter Scott_ 133
COURTIN', THE _James Russell Lowell_ 26
DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE, THE _Alfred Tennyson_ 65
DEATH-BED, THE _Thomas Hood_ 160
DEATH OF THE FLOWERS, THE _William Cullen Bryant_ 100
DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST _James Shirley_ 182
DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER _George Henry Boker_ 134
DRAKE, JOSEPH RODMAN _Fitz-Greene Halleck_ 169
DRIVING HOME THE COWS _Kate Putnam Osgood_ 140
EAGLE, THE _Alfred Tennyson_ 105
ENTICED _William C. Wilkinson_ 224
EPILOGUE _The Editor_ 231
EVELYN HOPE _Robert Browning_ 161
FAREWELL, A _Charles Kingsley_ 199
FAREWELL, A _Alfred Tennyson_ 112
GIRDLE, ON A _Edmund Waller_ 23
GOING HOME _Benjamin F. Taylor_ 185
GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD, THE _Felicia Hemans_ 174
HAUNTED HOUSES _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 73
HEALTH, A _Edward Coate Pinkney_ 21
HERMIT, THE _James Beattie_ 175
HEROES _Edna Dean Proctor_ 144
HIGHLAND MARY _Robert Burns_ 166
HOW'S MY BOY? _Sydney Dobell_ 150
HYMN TO THE NIGHT _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 103
ICHABOD _John Greenleaf Whittier_ 123
INDIAN GOLD COIN, TO AN _John Leyden_ 183
IN MEMORIAM _Thomas K. Hervey_ 173
I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER _Thomas Hood_ 72
IVY GREEN, THE _Charles Dickens_ 90
KNIGHT'S TOMB, THE _Samuel Taylor Coleridge_ 133
KUBLA KHAN _Samuel Taylor Coleridge_ 16
LAMENT, A _Percy Bysshe Shelley_ 192
LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT _Lady Dufferin_ 158
LAND OF LANDS, THE _Alfred Tennyson_ 126
LAND O' THE LE
| 744.346677 | 3,595 |
2023-11-16 18:28:11.1084790
| 2,092 | 90 |
Produced by David J. Cole and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
HARPER'S
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
NO. XX--JANUARY, 1852--VOL. IV.
[Illustration]
EARLY AND PRIVATE LIFE OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
BY JACOB ABBOTT.
It is generally true in respect to great statesmen that they owe their
celebrity almost entirely to their public and official career. They
promote the welfare of mankind by directing legislation, founding
institutions, negotiating treaties of peace or of commerce between rival
states, and guiding, in various other ways, the course of public and
national affairs, while their individual and personal influence attracts
very little regard. With Benjamin Franklin, however, the reverse of this
is true. He did indeed, while he lived, take a very active part, with
other leading men of his time, in the performance of great public
functions; but his claim to the extraordinary degree of respect and
veneration which is so freely awarded to his name and memory by the
American people, rests not chiefly upon this, but upon the extended
influence which he has exerted, and which he still continues to exert
upon the national mind, through the power of his private and personal
character. The prevalence of habits of industry and economy, of
foresight and thrift, of cautious calculation in the formation of plans,
and energy and perseverance in the execution of them, and of the
disposition to invest what is earned in substantial and enduring
possessions, rather than to expend it in brief pleasures or for purposes
of idle show--the prevalence of these traits, so far as they exist as
elements of the national character in this country--is due in an
incalculable degree to the doings and sayings and history of this great
exemplar. Thus it is to his life and to his counsels that is to be
attributed, in a very high degree, the formation of that great public
sentiment prevailing so extensively among us, which makes it more
honorable to be industrious than to be idle, and to be economical and
prudent rather than extravagant and vain; which places substantial and
unpretending prosperity above empty pretension, and real comfort and
abundance before genteel and expensive display.
A very considerable portion of the effect which Franklin has produced
upon the national character is due to the picturesque and almost
romantic interest which attaches itself to the incidents of his personal
history. In his autobiography he has given us a very full and a very
graphic narrative of these incidents, and as the anniversary of his
birth-day occurs during the present month, we can not occupy the
attention of our readers at this time, in a more appropriate manner than
by a brief review of the principal events of his life--so far as such a
review can be comprised within the limits of a single article.
[Illustration]
The ancestors of Franklin lived for many generations on a small estate
in Northamptonshire, one of the central counties in England. The head of
the family during all this time followed the business of a smith, the
eldest son from generation to generation, being brought up to that
employment.
The Franklin family were Protestants, and at one time when the Catholics
were in power, during the reign of Mary, the common people were
forbidden to possess or to read the English Bible. Nevertheless the
Franklin family contrived to get possession of a copy of the
Scriptures, and in order to conceal it they kept it fastened on the
under side of the seat of a little stool. The book was open, the back of
the covers being against the seat, and the leaves being kept up by tapes
which passed across the pages, and which were fastened to the seat of
the stool at the ends. When Mr. Franklin wished to read his Bible to his
family, he was accustomed to take up this stool and place it bottom
upward upon his lap; and thus he had the book open before him. When he
wished to turn over a leaf, he had to turn it under the tape, which,
though a little inconvenient, was attended with no serious difficulty.
During the reading one of the children was stationed at the door, to
watch, and to give notice if an officer should be coming; and in case of
an alarm the stool was immediately turned over and placed in its proper
position upon the floor, the fringe which bordered the sides of it
hanging down so as to conceal the book wholly from view. This was in the
day of Franklin's _great-grandfather_.
In process of time, after the Catholic controversy was decided, new
religious dissensions sprang up between the Church of England and the
Nonconformists. The family of Franklin were of the latter party, and at
length Mr. Josiah Franklin--who was Benjamin Franklin's
father--concluded to join a party of his neighbors and friends, who had
determined, in consequence of the restrictions which they were under in
England, in respect to their religious faith and worship, to emigrate to
America. Mr. Franklin came accordingly to Boston, and there, after a
time, Benjamin Franklin was born. The place of his birth was in
Milk-street, opposite to the Old South Church. The humble dwelling,
however, in which the great philosopher was born, has long since
disappeared. The magnificent granite warehouses of the Boston merchants
now cover the spot, and on one of them is carved conspicuously the
inscription, BIRTHPLACE OF FRANKLIN.
Mr. Josiah Franklin had been a dyer in England, but finding on his
coming to Boston that there was but little to be done in that art in so
new a country, he concluded to choose some other occupation; and he
finally determined upon that of a tallow chandler. Benjamin was the
youngest son. The others, as they gradually became old enough, were put
to different trades, but as Benjamin showed a great fondness for his
books, having learned to read of his own accord at a very early age, and
as he was the youngest son, his father conceived the idea of educating
him for the church. So they sent him to the grammar school, and he
commenced his studies. He was very successful in the school, and rose
from class to class quite rapidly; but still the plan of giving him a
public education was at length, for some reason or other, abandoned, and
Mr. Franklin took Benjamin into his store, to help him in his business.
His duties here were to cut the wicks for the candles, to fill the
moulds, to attend upon the customers, or to go of errands or deliver
purchases about the town.
[Illustration]
There was a certain mill-pond in a back part of the town, where Benjamin
was accustomed to go sometimes, in his play-hours, with other boys, to
fish. This mill-pond has long since been filled up, and its place is now
occupied by the streets and warehouses of the city. In Franklin's day,
however, the place was somewhat solitary, and the shore of the pond
being marshy, the boys soon trampled up the ground where they were
accustomed to stand in fishing, so as to convert it into a perfect
quagmire. At length young Franklin proposed to the boys that they should
build a wharf, or pier, to stand upon--getting the materials for the
purpose from a heap of stones that had been brought for a house which
some workmen were building in the neighborhood. The boys at once acceded
to the proposal. They all accordingly assembled at the spot one evening
after the workmen had gone away for the night, and taking as many stones
as they needed for the purpose, they proceeded to build their wharf.
[Illustration]
The boys supposed very probably that the stones which they had taken
would not be missed. The workmen, however, did miss them, and on making
search the following morning they soon discovered what had become of
them. The boys were thus detected, and were all punished.
Franklin's father, though he was plain and unpretending in his manners,
was a very sensible and well-informed man, and he possessed a sound
judgment and an excellent understanding. He was often consulted by his
neighbors and friends, both in respect to public and private affairs. He
took great interest, when conversing with his family at table, in
introducing useful topics of discourse, and endeavored in other ways to
form in the minds of his children a taste for solid and substantial
acquisitions. He was quite a musician, and was accustomed sometimes when
the labors of the day were done, to play upon the violin and sing, for
the entertainment of his family. This music Benjamin himself used to
take great delight in listening to.
[Illustration]
Young Benjamin did not like his father's trade--that of a chandler--and
it was for a long time undecided what calling in life he should pursue.
He wished very much to go to sea, but his parents were very unwilling
that he should do so. His father, accordingly, in order to make him
contented and willing to remain at home, took great pains to find some
employment for him that he would like, and he was accustomed to walk
about the town with him to see the workmen employed about their various
trades. It was at last decided that he should learn the trade of a
printer. One reason why this trade was decided upon was that one of
Benjamin's older brothers was a printer, and had just returned from
England with a press and a font of type, and was about setting up his
business in Boston
| 744.427889 | 3,596 |
2023-11-16 18:28:11.3802640
| 4,079 | 76 |
E-text prepared by Giovanni Fini, Charlene Taylor, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(https://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 47520-h.htm or 47520-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/47520/47520-h/47520-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/47520/47520-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
https://archive.org/details/ourpilgrimforefa00nel
OUR PILGRIM FOREFATHERS
Thanksgiving Studies
by
LOVEDAY A. NELSON
A. Flanagan Company
Chicago
Copyright 1904 by A. Flanagan Company.
Printed in the United States of America
OUR PILGRIM FOREFATHERS
THANKSGIVING STUDIES
You often hear people talking of the President of our country.
Doubtless most of you know him by name. Some of you may have seen him.
You also know that once in every four years we have an election day,
when papa votes for the man whom he thinks best for President. Then the
one who gets the most votes becomes our President for four years.
If this man makes a good President, he is sometimes chosen again for
another four years, or term, as we call it. But if he has not pleased
the people, they choose some one else, anybody else, next election day.
We never know who will be our next President until he is elected. One
term he is a man from one part of the country; the next term he may be
one from a far distant part. In our country we think that this way is
best.
It is not so in every country. In some countries, instead of a
president there is a king, who expects to be king as long as he lives.
At his death his son becomes the king. If the king happens to be a good
one, it is well for the country and for the people; but if he chances
to be a wicked, cruel one, the poor people have a sorry time as long as
he lives.
* * * * *
When Sunday comes, John goes with his mamma and papa to the Methodist
Church. Perhaps Mary goes with her parents to the Baptist. Gretchen
may prefer to go to the Lutheran Church, and Margaret to the Roman
Catholic. In our country we think this quite right. We like to see
people going to the church that helps them most.
As it costs much money to build churches and pay the preachers, people
must give money or there can be no churches. John may want to give his
pennies to the Methodist Church or Sunday-school. Mary would rather
give hers to the Baptist. Gretchen’s money is given to the Lutheran,
and Margaret’s to the Roman Catholic. In our country we think this,
too, quite right. No one forces us to give money to any church. When we
have any to give, we may do with it as we choose.
Neither is this true in all countries. In some lands where there are
kings instead of presidents, the kings have sometimes said that all the
people must go to a certain church, and that they must pay that church
money. Some of the kings have forbidden the people to have any other
churches.
Sometimes there have been people who loved another church which they
were unwilling to give up. Sometimes there have been kings who have put
these people in prison and done other harsh things in trying to force
them to worship God according to the king’s will.
* * * * *
We shall learn of some unhappy people who lived in a country ruled at
times by just such hard-hearted kings. When we know of some of the
troubles and great hardships through which they passed in trying to
pray to God and serve him as they thought right, we shall surely love
them and always remember their noble deeds.
These people lived far across the Atlantic Ocean, in a country called
England, where the king and all the people speak the English language.
We learned our English from them.
[Illustration: CHILDREN OF CHARLES I]
Look at the picture (Children of Charles I.) of these three children
with their pet dog. You can tell that the dog is their playfellow and
that he loves them, by the way he has taken his place at their side,
and by the loving, trustful manner in which he looks up into the face
of the boy whose hand rests on his head. The baby (Baby Stuart), whose
picture alone you often see, and whom you hear called “Baby Stuart,”
clasps a big red apple in his chubby hands.
These things would make us think that these are ordinary children, just
like you, with a love for fun and frolic, and an eye for bright things
and a taste for goodies.
Let us look at their clothes. This picture is a copy of a fine painting
in rich colors. If we could go to the big gallery where the painting
hangs, we should see that Mary, the sister, is dressed in beautiful
white satin; Charles, the elder brother, has on an elegant scarlet
gown; while the dear little baby, James, wears a dainty blue gown.
The quaint, rich dresses of stiff, costly goods, covered with fine
needle-work, would convince us that these are not ordinary children.
Indeed, they are the children of a great king.
Charles and Mary and James lived three hundred years ago. Their
grandfather had been King of England, and then their father was king.
Next Charles ruled his country, and finally James.
Their grandfather was one of the kings who tried to force all of the
people to go to one church and to give their money to no other. He
forbade them to have a church of their own, and treated pretty roughly
those who would not obey him.
In one part of England there were a number of people who did not like
the church of the king’s choice, and were set on having one that suited
their way of thinking. They had heard of another country, just a little
way across a small sea, where people might go to any church that they
liked. So they left their good farms and fled from England to this
other country, called Holland, the home of the Dutch[1].
Here everything seemed very strange to them. There were no high hills
in Holland. The land was low, as the land sometimes is beside the creek
or down by the pond. In some places it was so low that the sea came
right up into some of the streets, and when the people wished to leave
their houses they had to go down the street in row-boats. Of course,
the little children in those houses could not go out to play, for there
were no yards and the streets were full of water.
Most of you boys have sometimes made little dams, to dam up water along
the ditch or slough. That is what these Dutch people did. They built
dams (or dikes, as they called them) to keep the water off the land, so
that they might have farms and cities.
Now the English who had come to Holland, having left their farms and
made new homes in a Dutch city, found themselves without a way to make
a living. The Dutch neighbors all around them were great workers. They
worked steadily, and they worked hard. The men all had some business
or trade to keep them busy. The women were fine housekeepers and kept
their houses clean and neat as a pin. They were all careful and saving,
and had ways of using many things which some people throw away as
useless.
When the English people had looked around, and saw how things were,
they made up their minds that they must learn to work like the Dutch.
Therefore, they learned to spin wool into thread and yarn, to weave
cloth, to twist twine, to make rope, hats and pipes, to build houses of
either brick or lumber, and to make tables, chairs and other pieces of
furniture. These are only a few of the things that the English learned
of the Dutch.
The English children saw much to interest them in their queer new home.
No doubt it seemed to them a funny, funny place, with its low houses
with little window panes, its giant wind-mills scattered all around
the country, its odd dog carts, and its comical little girls and boys.
(1068. Girl with Cat.) This picture shows us that the little girls wore
long dresses, and caps with curious ornaments on the sides of their
heads. Like most of the people in that country, this little maid wore
wooden shoes. These she hung up in an orderly manner every night, and
she always scrubbed them well on Saturday.
The Dutch children were very kind to the little English boys and girls,
and, you may be sure, played with them whenever they had a chance. What
do you think the stranger children learned from their new playmates?
They soon learned to talk in Dutch, and to act like their Dutch
comrades.
The English fathers and mothers did not like that. They still loved
England, and English ways, and the English language. Their love
for their old home country made them grieve to see their children
forgetting it. Therefore, they began to think of moving again. They
said to themselves: “We can not stay here any longer. Before long our
children and grandchildren will be like the Dutch. Our young men and
young women will be marrying the Dutch. We must go somewhere else,
where we can stay always and still be Englishmen.”
Long before this, people had sailed across the Atlantic Ocean to this
country which we now call America. Those who stayed here wrote letters
home, and those who went back told their friends of this vast country,
with miles and miles of good rich lands. They told of the great woods,
of the high mountains and wide rivers, of the plentiful supply of wild
berries and nuts, and of the fish, wild ducks, rabbits, and deer that
could be used for food.
Only Indians had been living here up to that time. These red men
wandered about from place to place, stopping when they pleased, now
here, now there, wherever they could find plenty to eat for a time.
When they came to a place where they wished to camp, they would cut
some poles, stand them up, and cover them with skins to form tents.
This picture of a Comanche Indian Camp (1343) shows how an Indian
village looks. The Arapahoe Indian Camp (1342) gives a nearer view of
one of the tents, and we can see how the skins are pieced together and
stretched to make a covering.
[Illustration: COMANCHE INDIAN CAMP]
In both pictures are shown some of the Indians themselves wrapped in
their blankets. In the second picture at the opening of the tent we see
a little Indian child with no blanket on. A short distance away there
is a fresh skin hung over a pole to dry.
[Illustration: ARAPAHOE INDIAN CAMP]
The English people in Holland had heard that in this great country
there was plenty of room, with no cruel kings. They thought that if
they could only get here they could build themselves houses, and have a
church to suit them, and pray and live as they thought right. Every day
they thought more and more how much better it would be if they could
come to this new country and have a home of their own.
[Illustration: DEPARTURE OF THE PILGRIMS FROM DELFT HAVEN]
Although they did not have much money, they managed finally to get two
ships in which to sail across the ocean to America. And here you see a
picture of the Pilgrims, as these people have ever since been called,
starting for their new home. (1331. C. Departure of the Pilgrims from
Delft Haven, 1620. Cope.) The quaint houses, row-boats, and great
wind-mills give you an idea of what Holland is like. Lying in the
harbor is one of the waiting ships. Because the water is not deep
enough, she can not come close to the shore; so a row-boat must take
the people out to her. A boat full is now ready to be pushed off.
All can not go this time. Some must stay in Holland. The people on the
shore have brought their dear Bible with them and at this moment are
kneeling in prayer, doubtless asking God to care for their friends and
relatives and lead them safely across the deep waters.
In the picture called “Embarkation of the Pilgrims” (1331. Weir) we
see that the Pilgrims now aboard, starting off, also have the Bible
with them, and that there are prayers upon their lips as they leave the
people who have been so kind to them and the little country that has
given them a quiet home so long.
After they had started out the Pilgrims found that one of their ships,
called the Speedwell, was not strong enough for so long and dangerous a
voyage. They sailed into an English harbor, and tried to have the ship
put in order. But they found she could not be made sound. So all that
could crowded into the other ship, the Mayflower, and the rest of the
band had to be left in England.
[Illustration: EMBARKATION OF THE PILGRIMS]
It was not until September that the Pilgrims were really on their
way. Although it was later in the season than they had wished to
start, and they knew that many storms were likely to come upon them,
nevertheless, they sailed off in the Mayflower with brave and cheerful
hearts.
For about two months—long, long months—they sailed, sailed, sailed,
with nothing in sight but water, water, water, water. The weather was
growing colder; there were sometimes storms, and the people were very
uncomfortable. Some of them fell ill. One man died.
They were so crowded in the cabins that they suffered for want of air.
They did not have water enough to keep their clothes and themselves
clean. There was not room for the children to run about in their play,
as they liked to do, and the long, tiresome voyage was hard for them to
bear.
One day, when the ship was in mid ocean, a new baby, whom the Pilgrims
called Oceanus, came. Now they had something to interest them.
Doubtless they loved him instantly, liked to peep into his little red
face at every chance, were glad to hold him when they might, and talked
with one another about him.
Finally, late in November, the Mayflower came in sight of land. There
had been more and more sickness among the Pilgrims, and the weather was
stormy and cold. They were miserable on the ship, and yet on land they
would be more miserable still. There were no houses, no place for them
to go. What were the poor wanderers to do?
[Illustration: THE MAYFLOWER IN PLYMOUTH HARBOR]
The Mayflower sailed as near to the shore as she could get, as we see
her in this picture (1331. B. The Mayflower in Plymouth Harbor), while
a party of men went ashore to hunt a good landing place. They wanted to
find a neighborhood where there was a spring of fresh water, plenty of
trees that might be chopped down for the building of houses, and open
fields where grain might be raised. It took them several weeks to find
such a place.
One day, while wandering around, they came to a spot where something
had been buried. Digging down, they found some maize, or Indian corn,
which had been hidden there. Although they had caught fish along the
shore, and had shot game in the woods, the food that they brought to
America with them was fast being eaten up. So they looked upon this
maize as a treasure. The finders promptly decided to carry it to the
ship and pay the owner when they should find him.
It was almost Christmas before the Pilgrims decided on the spot to
begin their new home, which was to be called Plymouth. The men all went
to work, chopping down trees and shaping logs for a building in which
all could live together until they could build more houses. When this
was ready, just a few days before Christmas, they brought the women and
children ashore.
In this picture (1332. Landing of the Pilgrims) one painter has shown
us what kind of a day he thought it was. The skies are dark, the wind
is blowing hard, and the waves are rough. The men pull the boat close
to a rock, and hold her steady while the wanderers step upon it.
[Illustration: PLYMOUTH ROCK]
This rock has ever since been called Plymouth Rock, and it has been
kept and carefully guarded through all the many, many years that have
passed since the Pilgrims first stepped upon it. Here is a picture of
the actual rock, which we all love so well. (1333. Plymouth Rock.)
So many thoughtless people broke off bits for keepsakes that it was
necessary to build an iron railing around it so that it could not be
reached. That has been taken away now. If you some day have a chance
to visit Plymouth, you will see that a fine marble arch has been built
over it.
[Illustration: MILES STANDISH AND HIS SOLDIERS]
Now came many troubles and hardships. The weather was bitterly cold,
and the Pilgrims were without comfortable homes in which to keep warm.
They had not enough of the right kind of food. So many of them were
sick that the second house which was put up was needed for a hospital.
Then there were the Indians, of whom they stood in constant fear.
The men chose for their captain the brave Miles Standish, who had
proved himself a good soldier and captain while in Holland. He drilled
them so that they might be ready to fight the red men if necessary.
A friendly young Indian named Hobomok came to live with the Pilgrims.
As he knew all about the Indians and the country, he was of great help
to them. (1340. Miles Standish and His Soldiers.) Here you see Captain
Standish and some of his soldiers following the faithful Hobomok, who
is showing them the way.
As they never knew what moment the Indians would come upon them, even
when they went to church the Pilgrims carried their guns. (1339.
Pilgrims Going to Church.) A fine picture showing a group on the way
to church, has been painted for
| 744.699674 | 3,597 |
2023-11-16 18:28:11.4321690
| 1,016 | 397 |
Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
NAPLES
[Illustration: BAY OF NAPLES FROM THE VOMERO]
NAPLES
PAST AND PRESENT
BY
ARTHUR H. NORWAY
AUTHOR OF "HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS IN DEVON AND CORNWALL"
"PARSON PETER," ETC.
WITH TWENTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR
BY MAURICE GRIEFFENHAGEN
SECOND EDITION
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
_First Published_ _May 1901_
_Second Edition_ _June 1905_
TO MY FRIENDS
BARON AND BARONESS MARIO NOLLI
OF NAPLES, AND OF ARI, IN THE ABRUZZI
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK
IN TOKEN THAT THOSE WHO ARE DIVIDED
BY BOTH SEA AND LAND
MAY YET BE UNITED IN THEIR LOVE
FOR ITALY
PREFATORY NOTE
I have designed this book not as a guide, but as supplementary to a
guide. The best of guide-books--even that of Murray or of
Gsell-Fels--leaves a whole world of thought and knowledge untouched,
being indeed of necessity so full of detail that broad, general views
can scarcely be obtained from it.
In this work detail has been sacrificed without hesitation. I have
omitted reference to a few well-known places, usually because I could
add nothing to the information given in the handbooks, but in one or
two cases because the considerations which they raised lay too far
from the thread of my discourse.
I have thrown together in the form of an appendix such hints and
suggestions as seemed likely to assist anyone who desires wider
information than I have given.
A. H. N.
EALING, 1901
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
THE APPROACH TO NAPLES BY THE SEA 1
CHAPTER II
THE ANCIENT MARVELS OF THE PHLEGRAEAN FIELDS 21
CHAPTER III
THE BEAUTIES AND TRADITIONS OF THE POSILIPO, WITH SOME
OBSERVATIONS UPON VIRGIL, THE ENCHANTER 49
CHAPTER IV
THE RIVIERA DI CHIAIA, AND SOME STRANGE THINGS WHICH
OCCURRED THERE 68
CHAPTER V
THE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF THE EGG, AND THE SUCCESSION
OF THE KINGS WHO HELD IT 85
CHAPTER VI
THE BARBARITIES OF FERDINAND OF ARAGON, WITH CERTAIN
OTHER SUBJECTS WHICH PRESENT THEMSELVES IN STROLLING
ROUND THE CITY 101
CHAPTER VII
CHIEFLY ABOUT CHURCHES--WITH SOME SAINTS, BUT MORE
SINNERS 121
CHAPTER VIII
A GREAT CHURCH AND TWO VERY NOBLE TRAGEDIES 143
CHAPTER IX
VESUVIUS AND THE CITIES WHICH HE HAS DESTROYED--HERCULANEUM,
POMPEII, AND STABIAE 178
CHAPTER X
CASTELLAMMARE: ITS WOODS, ITS FOLKLORE, AND THE TALE OF THE
MADONNA OF POZZANO 226
CHAPTER XI
SURRIENTO GENTILE: ITS BEAUTIES AND BELIEFS 251
CHAPTER XII
CAPRI 273
CHAPTER XIII
LA RIVIERA D'AMALFI AND ITS LONG-DEAD GREATNESS 299
CHAPTER XIV
THE ABBEY OF TRINITA DELLA CAVA, SALERNO, AND THE RUINED
MAJESTY OF PAESTUM 327
APPENDIX 345
INDEX 357
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Bay of Naples from the Vomero _Frontispiece_
PAGE
Pozzuoli 24
Pozzuoli 32
Columns in the Serapeon Pozzuoli 35
| 744.751579 | 3,598 |
2023-11-16 18:28:11.5657540
| 1,893 | 63 |
Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Keren Vergon, Josephine
Paolucci, and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
LO, MICHAEL!
BY
GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL
"But, lo, Michael, one of the
chief princes, came to help me."
--DANIEL, 10:13.
CHAPTER I
"Hi, there! Mikky! Look out!"
It was an alert voice that called from a huddled group of urchins in
the forefront of the crowd, but the child flashed past without heeding,
straight up the stone steps where stood a beautiful baby smiling on the
crowd. With his bundle of papers held high, and the late morning sunlight
catching his tangle of golden hair, Mikky flung himself toward the little
one. The sharp crack of a revolver from the opposite curbstone was
simultaneous with their fall. Then all was confusion.
It was a great stone house on Madison Avenue where the crowd had gathered.
An automobile stood before the door, having but just come quietly up, and
the baby girl three years old, in white velvet, and ermines, with her dark
curls framed by an ermine-trimmed hood, and a bunch of silk rosebuds poised
coquettishly over the brow vying with the soft roses of her cheeks came out
the door with her nurse for her afternoon ride. Just an instant the nurse
stepped back to the hall for the wrap she had dropped, leaving the baby
alone, her dark eyes shining like stars under the straight dark brows, as
she looked gleefully out in the world. It was just at that instant, as if
by magic, that the crowd assembled.
Perhaps it would be better to say that it was just at that minute that the
crowd focused itself upon the particular house where the baby daughter
of the president of a great defaulting bank lived. More or less all the
morning, men had been gathering, passing the house, looking up with
troubled or threatening faces toward the richly laced windows, shaking
menacing heads, muttering imprecations, but there had been no disturbance,
and no concerted crowd until the instant the baby appeared.
The police had been more or less vigilant all the morning but had seen
nothing to disturb them. The inevitable small boy had also been in
evidence, with his natural instinct for excitement. Mikky with his papers
often found himself in that quarter of a bright morning, and the starry
eyes and dark curls of the little child were a vision for which he often
searched the great windows as he passed this particular house: but the man
with the evil face on the other side of the street, resting a shaking hand
against the lamp post, and sighting the baby with a vindictive eye, had
never been seen there before. It was Mikky who noticed him first: Mikky,
who circling around him innocently had heard his imprecations against the
rich, who caught the low-breathed oath as the baby appeared, and saw the
ugly look on the man's face. With instant alarm he had gone to the other
side of the street, his eye upon the offender, and had been the first to
see the covert motion, the flash of the hidden weapon and to fear the
worst.
But a second behind him his street companions saw his danger and cried out,
too late. Mikky had flung himself in front of the beautiful baby, covering
her with his great bundle of papers, and his own ragged, neglected little
body; and receiving the bullet intended for her, went down with her as she
fell.
Instantly all was confusion.
A child's cry--a woman's scream--the whistle of the police--the angry roar
of the crowd who were like a pack of wild animals that had tasted blood.
Stones flew, flung by men whose wrongs had smothered in their breasts and
bred a fury of hate and murder. Women were trampled upon. Two of the great
plate glass windows crashed as the flying missiles entered the magnificent
home, regardless of costly lace and velvet hangings.
The chauffeur attempted to run his car around the corner but was held up at
once, and discreetly took himself out of the way, leaving the car in the
hands of the mob who swarmed into it and over it, ruthlessly disfiguring it
in their wrath. There was the loud report of exploding tires, the ripping
of costly leather cushions, the groaning of fine machinery put to torture
as the fury of the mob took vengeance on the car to show what they would
like to do to its owner.
Gone into bankruptcy! He! With a great electric car like that, and servants
to serve him! With his baby attired in the trappings of a queen and
his house swathed in lace that had taken the eyesight from many a poor
lace-maker! He! Gone into bankruptcy, and slipping away scot free, while
the men he had robbed stood helpless on his sidewalk, hungry and shabby and
hopeless because the pittances they had put away in his bank, the result of
slavery and sacrifice, were gone,--hopelessly gone! and they were too old,
or too tired, or too filled with hate, to earn it again.
The crowd surged and seethed madly, now snarling like beasts, now rumbling
portentously like a storm, now babbling like an infant; a great emotional
frenzy, throbbing with passion, goaded beyond fear, desperate with need;
leaderless, and therefore the more dangerous.
The very sight of that luxurious baby with her dancing eyes and happy
smiles "rolling in luxury," called to mind their own little puny darling,
grimy with neglect, lean with want, and hollow-eyed with knowledge
aforetime. Why should one baby be pampered and another starved? Why did the
bank-president's daughter have any better right to those wonderful furs and
that exultant smile than their own babies? A glimpse into the depths of the
rooms beyond the sheltering plate glass and drapery showed greater contrast
even than they had dreamed between this home and the bare tenements they
had left that morning, where the children were crying for bread and the
wife shivering with cold. Because they loved their own their anger burned
the fiercer; and for love of their pitiful scrawny babies that flower-like
child in the doorway was hated with all the vehemence of their untamed
natures. Their every breath cried out for vengeance, and with the brute
instinct they sought to hurt the man through his child, because they had
been hurt by the wrong done to their children.
The policeman's whistle had done its work, however. The startled inmates of
the house had drawn the beautiful baby and her small preserver within the
heavy carven doors, and borne them back to safety before the unorganized
mob had time to force their way in. Amid the outcry and the disorder no one
had noticed that Mikky had disappeared until his small band of companions
set up an outcry, but even then no one heard.
The mounted police had arrived, and orders were being given. The man who
had fired the shot was arrested, handcuffed and marched away. The people
were ordered right and left, and the officer's horses rode ruthlessly
through the masses. Law and order had arrived and there was nothing for the
downtrodden but to flee.
In a very short time the square was cleared and guarded by a large force.
Only the newspaper men came and went without challenge. The threatening
groups of men who still hovered about withdrew further and further. The
wrecked automobile was patched up and taken away to the garage. The street
became quiet, and by and by some workmen came hurriedly, importantly, and
put in temporary protections where the window glass had been broken.
Yet through it all a little knot of ragged newsboys stood their ground in
front of the house. Until quiet was restored they had evaded each renewed
command of officer or passer-by, and stayed there; whispering now and again
in excited groups and pointing up to the house. Finally a tall policeman
approached them:
"Clear out of this, kids!" he said not unkindly. "Here's no place for you.
Clear out. Do you hear me? You can't stay here no longer:"
Then one of them wheeled upon him. He was the tallest of them all, with
fierce little freckled face and flashing black eyes in which all the evil
passions of four generations back looked out upon a world that had always
been harsh. He was commonly known as fighting Buck.
"Mikky's in dare. He's hurted. We kids can't leave Mick alone. He might be
dead."
Just at that
| 744.885164 | 3,599 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.