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Transcriber's Note: A number of obvious printing errors have been
corrected. Dialect has been left as printed.
No. 2. ONE PENNY.
FREE TRAPPER’S
PASS.
[Illustration]
JACKSON’S NOVELS
JAMES JACKSON.
2 Red Lion Court, Fleet Street, London, E.C.
JACKSON’S NOVELS
FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS;
OR,
The Gold-seeker’s Daughter!
CHAPTER I.
THE RAID OF THE BLACKFEET.
On a tributary of the Yellowstone River, and near to the Bighorn
Mountains, there stood, at the time our story opens, a cabin. Though
roughly constructed, there was an air of nicety and comfort about it,
which could hardly be expected in a frontier log-house. On the outside,
the walls presented a comparatively smooth surface, though a glance
would be sufficient to satisfy one that the work was of the axe and not
of the plane. On the inside, the walls seemed to be plastered with a
material, which, in its primitive state, resembled stiff brown clay;
and it was through a chimney of the same substance that the smoke of
the fire within found vent.
A fair girl stood in the shadow of the rude doorway. Her hair, golden
as the memory of childhood’s days, floated in soft ringlets over her
exquisitely-formed shoulders, half concealing in its wavy flow her
lovely cheeks, mantling with the rich hue of life--cheeks which, long
ago, might have been tinged with the sun’s brown dye, but which now,
miracle though it might seem, bore little trace of old Sol’s scorching
hand, or tell-tale mark of western marches. Blue eyes she had, and a
lovely light lingered in their liquid depths, while her form was one
corresponding to her face, slender, but lithe and springing, well
calculated to endure, along with a stout heart, the privations which
must come upon one thus so strangely out of place.
Half turning, she threw up one beautiful arm, and with her hand shaded
her eyes from the glare of the sun, at the same time glancing to the
right. As she did so, she gave a slight start, for, in the distance,
she had caught sight of an approaching horseman. As cause for fear was,
however, quickly removed, as she almost immediately recognized him as a
friend. Murmuring lightly to herself:
“Ah, John Howell! What can he be after?” She watched with some interest
his onward progress. Why was it that he so suddenly halted? Why did
horse and rider remain mute and motionless, gazing in the direction of
a mound which lay not far distant from the cabin?
From behind its concealing shade, with a horrid yell, a band of Indian
braves at least fifty in number, in single file approached.
The majority of the band came directly toward the house, but the form
of Howell, stationed, sentinel like, upon the crest of a knoll, having
been speedily observed, a squad of four well-mounted and well-armed
braves dashed toward him at full speed.
Half the intervening distance had been traversed before the
trapper--for such was the white man--had fully determined whether their
advance was friendly or hostile in its nature. When at length he caught
fuller glances of their forms, it was with remarkable celerity that
he unslung his rifle and brought it to bear upon the nearest of the
advancing foes, tersely exclaiming:
“Blackfeet, by mighty!”
At the touch of the finger upon the trigger the weapon was discharged,
and he who had been the mark, fell. Without waiting to see the success
of his shot, Howell turned his horse and struck the heavy Mexican spurs
deep into his sides, speeding in hot haste over the rolling ground,
with the three red-skins following in close pursuit.
While these things were transpiring, the main body was marching
steadily toward the cabin. Simultaneously with the report of Howell’s
rifle, the band halted in front of the dwelling.
In front, mounted before a sturdy-looking brave, was a noble-looking
white man. Although his hands were tied, yet from time to time they had
not scorned to eye him with anxious glances, seemingly fearful that by
some Sampsonian attempt he might free himself. Thus, when the party
halted, men closed around him, upon either side, guarding against such
a catastrophe.
The young girl still stood in the shadow of the door, with the fairy
hand shading her eyes; but her face was pale as ashes, and her heart
must have throbbed at whirlwind speed, to have corresponded with the
way in which her bosom rose and fell. It was very sudden. A single
horseman in sight, and he a friend; then to see in a moment more a
half a hundred yelling savage foes! For a moment she looked at them,
but, as her gaze rested on the captive, she raised the other arm, and
stretching forth both, feebly cried:
“Father!” then slowly sunk to the floor.
The prisoner, too, caught sight of the girl, and with a violent wrench
sought to free himself from his bands. Strong as is a father’s love,
the cords of the savage proved yet stronger, and he found himself,
perforce, compelled to act as best suited his captors. They, evidently
fearing something of an ambuscade, were slow to enter, and with weapon
poised with eager eyes, they glanced through the open door. Finding
that their fears had no foundation, they dismounted, even allowing
and assisting their captive to once more set foot upon the ground. At
this close approach the girl somewhat revived. First consciousness of
existence came back, then recollection, then strength, and she sprung
to her feet, rushed between the two Indians who led the van, and
throwing her arms around the neck of her father, exclaimed:
“Father, father! What does this mean? Why are you thus a captive?”
In the background, gazing with a look half inquisitive, half scowling
upon these two, was a man, who, though dressed in the garb of the
tribe, and his cheek deep tinged by exposure, still gave evidence of
being of the white race. He was a short, stoutly-built man, of perhaps
thirty years of age. His hair, dressed in the Indian style, was black,
eyes small, and set deeply in his head, and the brow, though broad, was
low and retreating. From some cause, the end of his nose was wanting,
and this, with the wide and disproportionate shape of his mouth, tended
to heighten the outlandish expression of his physiognomy.
Toward this person did Major Robison--the captive--turn his eye, and,
raising as best he could, his bounds hands, pointed with them, at the
same time saying, bitterly:
“For this, I may thank you, you renegade, Tom Rutter. It was through
his means I was taken; and now that it is done, let him take good care
of himself, else I may be speedily avenged.”
“Look a-hear,” interrupted the man thus addressed, a dark scowl
sweeping over his brows, “I don’t care about havin’ you or yer
daughter; ain’t no interest of mine; ’twon’t do me no good. It am
accordin’ to orders. I don’t know as they wants _you_ partiklar bad
either. Whatever they wants, they’re goin’ to hev--you hev to go
’long now; and when yer free to locomote again, by-and-bye, we squar
accounts. Don’t go to sayin’ hard words agin me an’ them red-skins, if
you don’t want to be purty affectually rubbed out. Jist keep a cool,
civil tongue in that ar head o’ yours, make yer tracks in the right
manner, and you’ll fare well.”
Major Robison, considering that to bandy words at that time would be
dangerous and effect nothing, turned to his daughter, and in a low tone
inquired what had become of her brother, Hugh. The answer was given in
an equally low voice.
“He left me but a short time ago, for a ride across the plains. I know
not what else he had in view; but I much fear that he will return
before marauders leave, and so fall into their hands.”
“Never fear for Hugh. If he is mounted, and with weapons in his hands,
the fleetest horseman in the tribe could scarce overtake him in a day.”
As Robison stated, it did not seem to be the intention of the
Blackfeet to remain here long. But a short space of time was occupied
in ransacking the dwelling, and as they emerged, bearing in their
hands whatever of desirable plunder they had been able to find, Tom
Rutter, who seemed to have, in some sort at least, the command of the
expedition, addressed them in words which, if rendered into English,
would read:
“I tell you we must be making tracks out of this. We have been
successful in our undertaking, but we must not trust to a run of good
luck. You understand Blackfeet, what we want the prisoners for. It is
for your good more than mine, and they must be taken care of. The girl
can’t be expected to walk, so one of the braves can take her on his
horse. If we had time, we might scout around to find the other young
one; but, as we have not, and as he is not necessary, let us be moving
at once.”
If this was Rutter’s opinion, it appeared to coincide with that of the
chiefs who stood around, and preparations were accordingly made to
start immediately. Then, with a yell of triumph, the line of march was
formed, the captives occupying the middle of the file.
As they wound their way around the clump of trees which lay at the
distance of a few hundred yards from the late site of her residence,
Adele saw, nearly half-a-mile away, standing on a small elevation,
John Howell. He had led his pursuers in a half circle, and having
escaped for the time from their range of vision, was evidently bent on
discovering what course the Blackfeet intended to pursue with regard to
their prisoners. Turning her eye from him, it fell upon a moving object
coming over the plain in a direct line toward them. The Indians, too,
saw this object, which, it could be easily discerned, was a horseman,
riding at a quick rate. A halt was made for a moment, and the renegade,
who rode immediately in advance of the captives, half turned on his
saddle, and said:
“That ar’ person comin’ is yer son, Hugh, an’ ef he comes a little
closer, he’ll rush right into our arms. I ain’t got nothin’ agin ye
myself, but it does seem as though luck was down on yer family to-day.”
The bad luck of the family, however, seemed to be partly averted, for,
fortunately, the young man had a companion. This person gave token that
he was an old _voyageur_ on the plains; for his eye, ever on the alert,
quickly caught sight of the hollow and the savages therein. Their
horses were held in, a long survey taken, and then, to all appearance,
satisfied that, for the present, no good could be done by them, the two
turned to one side, and pushed their steeds into a quick gallop. About
the same time, the detachment which had started in pursuit of Howell,
again caught sight of him, and, fired by their success, rode at a
sweeping pace toward his station. He, casting a last look at the smoke
of the burning cabin--plainly visible from his position--another at the
captives, and a third at his pursuers, commenced a rapid flight.
Nothing now remaining for the war-party to mark with their devastating
hand, they fell again into file, and marched on under the guidance of
Rutter.
Signals had been made to recall the men who were in pursuit of Howell,
but their signals, in the excitement of their chase, had not been seen.
Perhaps if they had been, they would not have been noticed. One of
their number had fallen, and his death demanded vengeance. The scalp of
the white man must hang in the belt of a Blackfoot.
The pursued took the chase coolly, carefully managing a horse that
already seemed somewhat tired, he lifted him at every stroke, keeping
sharp watch that he was not gained upon, and evidently steering for
some place of refuge.
A long way off appeared the course of a stream, stretching its slowly
winding length from south to north. Directly ahead lay a small, but
thickly-studded copse of trees. Could the white man see what lay behind
or within it?
There was another cabin there, not very large, but strongly
constructed, and just at the edge of the copse, peering anxiously
over the plain, a young man of some twenty four years of age. Tall,
well-proportioned, with dark-brown hair, and piercing grey eyes,
he made no bad appearance as he stood there, holding in his hand a
white-brimmed sombrero, garnished with a deep black plume.
“It is time,” he was murmuring, “that Howell came. He has been gone
long, and it is not often he delays beyond the appointed hour, yet--ha!
Yonder he comes, and comes right gallantly, though his horse seems
weary. By heavens! horsemen are following him--Indians at that! He
needs my aid, for three to one is too long an odds, even for him.”
So saying, the young man snatched up his rifle, which was resting
against a tree near by, and threw himself upon his ready saddled steed,
making the best of his way out of the thicket, starting at reckless
speed in the direction of his friend and the three pursuers.
The Blackfeet, seeing a mounted man emerge from the thicket, though
the distance was full half-a-mile, partly drew in their animals, as
if fearing an ambuscade; then, seeing that no one else appeared, they
rushed on with an increased fury. The five men, thus triply divided,
were gradually approximating, but the red-skins seemed likely to
overtake their intended victim before his friend could come to his
assistance; and this likelihood appeared to be reduced to a positive
certainty, as the horse of Howell stumbled, rose, and then sank in
its track, completely blown. His rider was instantly on his feet, and
facing the foes, now within fifty yards of him, and coming on at a rate
which must, in a minute more, have brought them to the spot where he
stood. But the hardy northern trapper is not a man who shrinks from
danger, nor does his courage fail him at a critical period. Howell was
one who, in all his eventful career, had never allowed his heart to
falter, or his hand to shake. His movements, to be sure, were quick,
but not flurried, as he brought his deadly rifle to his shoulder. A
careful aim, the trigger was pulled--a flash, a report, and then, with
an half-uttered yell, the foremost of the three persons wildly threw up
his arms, reeled, pitched heavily off his saddle, and fell with a dull
thud to the ground.
The comrades of him who had fallen seemed scarcely to notice the fact,
and only hastened on with greater eagerness in order that they might
come upon their quarry whilst his rifle was discharged.
Howell gave a rapid glance over his shoulder. His friend, at a
furlong’s distance, had halted. It formed a perfect picture. The sun
rode high in the heavens above the great mountains of the west. In
the shade, with the woods and the mountains for a background, his
horse motionless, the young man looked keenly through the deadly
sights of his long rifle. In front of him, with the broad light of the
afternoon streaming over their wild forms, came the swooping braves.
The whip-like crack of the rifle broke the charm. Perhaps it was a
chance shot, but one of the Indians fell, the leaden messenger of
death passing through his heart. Immediately afterwards a crushing
blow, dealt by the butt of Howell’s gun, swept the third and last
of the party from his horse. Half stunned, as he was, he was on his
feet in a moment. Bounding towards his white antagonist, he seized
him before he had time to draw a weapon, and a confused hand-to-hand
encounter ensued. Both fell to the ground, and, tightly clasped in each
other’s embrace, rolled over and over. The savage accompanied his work
with frantic shouts and cries, but the white man held his teeth firm
clenched, and in fierce silence essayed to end the contest. Nor was it
of long continuance. An arm was suddenly raised, there was a shimmer
and a flash of steel, a muffled cry, then the hunter shook himself
loose, rose to his feet, took his tired horse by the bridle, and then
he walked toward the grove of trees and the cabin before mentioned.
The half-mile which was now to be accomplished was soon passed over,
and, as the space in front of the cabin was entered, to the traveller’s
delight, a fire was seen, with long strings of juicy meat suspended
over it, whilst the coffee-pot, that article ever present at the true
_voyageur’s_ meal, bubbled and sang a merry strain of welcome.
The repast was now prepared, and though Howell ate with gusto, yet,
with a touch of that taciturnity which at times is visible in men of
the wilds, he refused to utter a word. At length, when the repast was
over, he raised himself from the floor, on which he had been reclining,
and took a long, earnest, and sweeping glance over the plain. Then,
returning, he took his former position, and opened a conversation with
his companion.
“Wavin’ Plume, I was down the river to-day, and turned
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STANDARD ELOCUTIONARY BOOKS
=FIVE-MINUTE READINGS FOR YOUNG LADIES.= Selected and adapted by
WALTER K. FOBES. Cloth. 50 cents.
=FIVE-MINUTE DECLAMATIONS.= Selected and adapted by WALTER K.
FOBES, teacher of elocution and public reader; author of
"Elocution Simplified." Cloth. 50 cents.
=FIVE-MINUTE RECITATIONS.= By WALTER K. FOBES. Cloth. 50 cents.
Pupils in public schools on declamation days are limited to five
minutes each for the delivery of "pieces." There is a great
complaint of the scarcity of material for such a purpose, while
the injudicious pruning of eloquent extracts has often marred the
desired effects. To obviate these difficulties, new "Five-Minute"
books have been prepared by a competent teacher.
=ELOCUTION SIMPLIFIED.= With an appendix on Lisping, Stammering,
and other Impediments of Speech. By WALTER K. FOBES, graduate of
the "Boston School of Oratory." 16mo. Cloth. 50 cents. Paper, 30
cents.
"The whole art of elocution is succinctly set forth in this small
volume, which might be judiciously included among the text-books of
schools."--_New Orleans Picayune._
=ADVANCED READINGS AND RECITATIONS.= By AUSTIN B. FLETCHER, A.M.,
LL.B., Professor of Oratory, Brown University, and Boston
University School of Law. This book has been already adopted in a
large number of Universities, Colleges, Post-graduate Schools of
Law and Theology, Seminaries, etc. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50.
"Professor Fletcher's noteworthy compilation has been made with
rare rhetorical judgment, and evinces a sympathy for the best forms
of literature, adapted to attract readers and speakers, and mould
their literary taste."--PROF. J. W. CHURCHILL, _Andover Theological
Seminary_.
=THE COLUMBIAN SPEAKER.= Consisting of choice and animated pieces
for declamation and reading. By LOOMIS J. CAMPBELL, and ORIN
ROOT, Jun. 16mo. Cloth. 75 cents.
Mr. Campbell, as one of the editors of "Worcester's Dictionaries,"
the popular "Franklin Readers," and author of the successful
little work, "Pronouncing Hand-Book of 3,000 Words," is well known
as a thorough scholar. Mr. Root is an accomplished speaker and
instructor in the West, and both, through experience knowing the
need of such a work, are well qualified to prepare it. _It is a
genuine success._
=VOCAL AND ACTION-LANGUAGE, CULTURE AND EXPRESSION.= By E. N.
KIRBY, teacher of elocution in the Lynn High Schools. 12mo.
English cloth binding. Price, $1.25.
"Teachers and students of the art of public speaking, in any of
its forms, will be benefited by a liberal use of this practical
hand-book."--_Prof. Churchill._
=KEENE'S SELECTIONS.= Selection for reading and elocution. A
hand-book for teachers and students. By J. W. KEENE, A.M., M.D.
Cloth. $1.
"An admirable selection of practical pieces."
=LITTLE PIECES FOR LITTLE SPEAKERS.= The primary school teacher's
assistant. By a practical teacher. 16mo. Illustrated. 75 cents.
Also in boards, 50 cents. Has had an immense sale.
=THE MODEL SUNDAY-SCHOOL SPEAKER.= Containing selections in prose
and verse, from the most popular pieces and dialogues for
Sunday-school exhibitions. Illust. Cloth. 75 cents. Boards, 50
cents "A book very much needed."
LEE AND SHEPARD Publishers Boston
_BAKER'S DIALECT SERIES_
MEDLEY DIALECT RECITATIONS
COMPRISING A SERIES OF
THE MOST POPULAR SELECTIONS
In German, French, and Scotch
EDITED BY
GEORGE M. BAKER
COMPILER OF "THE READING CLUB AND HANDY SPEAKER," "THE
PREMIUM SPEAKER," "THE
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Mundus Foppensis:
OR, THE
<DW2> Display'd.
BEING
The Ladies VINDICATION,
In Answer to a late Pamphlet, Entituled,
Mundus Muliebris: Or, The Ladies
Dressing-Room Unlocked, _&c._
In Burlesque.
Together with a short SUPPLEMENT
to the _Fop-Dictionary_: Compos'd for the
use of the Town _Beaus_.
_Prisca juvent alios; Ego me nunc denique natum,
Gratulor haec aetas moribus apta meis.
Non quia nunc terra lentum subducitur aurum
Lectaque diverso littore Concha venit.
Sed qu
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The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Lock and Key Library/Real Life
#2 in our Lock and Key Library series by Julian Hawthorne
PART I--DETECTIVE STORIES FROM REAL LIFE
PART II--TRUE STORIES OF MODERN MAGIC
Also see:
The Lock and Key Library, Julian Hawthorne, Ed. #1[lckyl*.*] 1831
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The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Lock and Key Library/Real Life
#2 in our Lock and Key Library series by Julian Hawthorne
PART I--DETECTIVE STORIES FROM REAL LIFE
PART II--TRUE STORIES OF MODERN MAGIC
PART I--DETECTIVE STORIES FROM REAL LIFE
ARTHUR TRAIN
A Flight into Texas
P. H. WOODWARD
Adventures in the Secret Service of the Post-Office Department
An Erring Shepherd
An Aspirant for Congress
The Fortune of Seth Savage
A Wish Unexpectedly Gratified
An Old Game Revived
A Formidable Weapon
ANDREW LANG
Saint-Germain the Deathless
The Man in the Iron Mask
The Legend
The Valet's History
The Valet's Master
Original Papers in the Case of Roux De Marsilly
PART II--TRUE STORIES OF MODERN MAGIC
M. ROBERT-HOUDIN
A Conjurer's Confessions
Self-Training
"Second Sight"
The Magician Who Became an Ambassador
Facing the Arab's Pistol
DAVID P. ABBOTT
Fraudulent Spiritualism Unveiled
A Doctor of the Occult
How the Tricks Succeeded
The Name of the Dead
Mind Reading in Public
Some Famous Exposures
HEREWARD CARRINGTON
More Tricks of "Spiritualism"
"Matter through Matter"
Deception Explained by the Science of Psychology
ANONYMOUS
How Spirits Materialize
January, 2000 [Etext #2031]
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codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
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TREATISES ON FRIENDSHIP AND OLD AGE
By Marcus Tullius Cicero
Translated by E. S. Shuckburgh
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO, the greatest of Roman orators and the chief
master of Latin prose style, was born at Arpinum, Jan. 3, 106 B.C.
His father, who was a man of property and belonged to the class of
the "Knights," moved to Rome when Cicero was a child; and the future
statesman received an elaborate education in rhetoric, law, and
philosophy, studying and practising under some of the most noted
teachers of the time. He began his career as an advocate at the age of
twenty-five, and almost immediately came to be recognized not only as a
man of brilliant talents but also as a courageous upholder of justice in
the face of grave political danger. After two years of practice he left
Rome to travel in Greece and Asia, taking all the opportunities that
offered to study his art under distinguished masters. He returned to
Rome greatly improved in health and in professional skill, and in 76
B. C. was elected to the office of quaestor. He was assigned to the
province of Lilybaeum in Sicily, and the vigor and justice of his
administration earned him the gratitude of the inhabitants. It was at
their request that he undertook in 70 B. C. the Prosecution of Verres,
who as Praetor had subjected the Sicilians to incredible extortion and
oppression; and his successful conduct of this case, which ended in the
conviction and banishment of Verres, may be said to have launched him
on his political career. He became aedile in the same
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THE ERRAND BOY;
OR, HOW PHIL BRENT WON SUCCESS.
By Horatio Alger, Jr.,
Author of:
"Joe's Luck," "Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy," "Tom Temple's Career," "Tom
Thatcher's Fortune," "Ragged Dick," "Tattered Tom," "Luck and Pluck,"
etc., etc.
Contents:
The Errand Boy.
Fred Sargent's Revenge.
The Smuggler's Trap.
THE ERRAND BOY.
CHAPTER I.
PHIL HAS A LITTLE DIFFICULTY.
Phil Brent was plodding through the snow in the direction of the house
where he lived with his step-mother and her son, when a snow-ball, moist
and hard, struck him just below his ear with stinging emphasis. The pain
was considerable, and Phil's anger rose.
He turned suddenly, his eyes flashing fiercely, intent upon discovering
who had committed this outrage, for he had no doubt that it was
intentional.
He looked in all directions, but saw no one except a mild old gentleman
in spectacles, who appeared to have some difficulty in making his way
through the obstructed street.
Phil did not need to be told that it was not the old gentleman who had
taken such an unwarrantable liberty with him. So he looked farther, but
his ears gave him the first clew.
He heard a chuckling laugh, which seemed to proceed from behind the
stone wall that ran along the roadside.
"I will see who it is," he decided, and plunging through the snow he
surmounted the wall, in time to see a boy of about his own age running
away across the fields as fast as the deep snow would allow.
"So it's you, Jonas!" he shouted wrathfully. "I thought it was some
sneaking fellow like you."
Jonas Webb, his step-brother, his freckled face showing a degree of
dismay, for he had not calculated on discovery, ran the faster, but
while fear winged his steps, anger proved the more effectual spur, and
Phil overtook him after a brief run, from the effects of which both boys
panted.
"What made you throw that snow-ball?" demanded Phil angrily, as he
seized Jonas by the collar and shook him.
"You let me alone!" said Jonas, struggling ineffectually in his grasp.
"Answer me! What made you throw that snowball?" demanded Phil, in a tone
that showed he did not intend to be trifled with.
"Because I chose to," answered Jonas, his spite getting the better of
his prudence. "Did it hurt you?" he continued, his eyes gleaming with
malice.
"I should think it might. It was about as hard as a cannon-ball,"
returned Phil grimly. "Is that all you've got to say about it?"
"I did it in fun," said Jonas, beginning to see that he had need to be
prudent.
"Very well! I don't like your idea of fun. Perhaps you won't like mine,"
said Phil, as he forcibly drew Jonas back till he lay upon the snow, and
then kneeling by his side, rubbed his face briskly with snow.
"What are you doin'? Goin' to murder me?" shrieked Jonas, in anger and
dismay.
"I am going to wash your face," said Phil, continuing the operation
vigorously.
"I say, you quit that! I'll tell my mother," ejaculated Jonas,
struggling furiously.
"If you do, tell her why I did it," said Phil.
Jonas shrieked and struggled, but in vain. Phil gave his face an
effectual scrubbing, and did not desist until he thought he had avenged
the bad treatment he had suffered.
"There, get up!" said he at length.
Jonas scrambled to his feet, his mean features working convulsively with
anger.
"You'll suffer for this!" he shouted.
"You won't make me!" said Phil contemptuously.
"You're the meanest boy in the village."
"I am willing to leave that to the opinion of all who know me."
"I'll tell my mother!"
"Go home and tell her!"
Jonas started for home, and Phil did not attempt to stop him.
As he saw Jonas reach the street and plod angrily homeward, he said to
himself:
"I suppose I shall be in hot water for this; but I can't help it. Mrs.
Brent always stands up for her precious son,
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THE WRITINGS IN PROSE AND VERSE OF RUDYARD KIPLING
By Rudyard Kipling
VOLUME XI.
1889-1896
CONTENTS
Followed by first lines
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS
1889-1891
TO WOLCOTT BALESTIER
Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled --
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS
To T. A.
I have made for you a song,
DANNY DEEVER
"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade.
TOMMY
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
"FUZZY-WUZZY"
We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
SOLDIER, SOLDIER
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
SCREW-GUNS
Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool,
CELLS
I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick:
GUNGA DIN
You may talk o' gin and beer
OONTS
Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire?
LOOT
If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back,
"SNARLEYOW"
This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps,
THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR
'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor?
BELTS
There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay,
THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER
When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East,
MANDALAY
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
TROOPIN'
Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea,
THE WIDOW'S PARTY
"Where have you been this while away?"
FORD O' KABUL RIVER
Kabul town's by Kabul river,
GENTLEMEN-RANKERS
To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned,
ROUTE MARCHIN'
We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains,
SHILLIN' A DAY
My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly,
OTHER VERSES
THE BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST
Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
THE LAST SUTTEE
Udai Chand lay sick to death,
THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S MERCY
Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the story told,
THE BALLAD OF THE KING'S JEST
When spring-time flushes the desert grass,
WITH SCINDIA TO DELHI
The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck,
THE BALLAD OF BOH DA THONE
This is the ballad of Boh Da Thone,
THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER CATTLE THIEF
O woe is me for the merry life,
THE RHYME OF THE THREE CAPTAINS
... At the close of a winter day,
THE BALLAD OF THE "CLAMPHERDOWN"
It was our war-ship _Clampherdown_,
THE BALLAD OF THE "BOLIVAR"
Seven men from all the world back to Docks again,
THE SACRIFICE OF ER-HEB
Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai,
THE EXPLANATION
Love and Death once ceased their strife,
THE GIFT OF THE SEA
The dead child lay in the shroud,
EVARRA AND HIS GODS
Read here: This is the story of Evarra -- man --,
THE CONUNDRUM OF THE WORKSHOPS
When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,
THE LEGEND OF EVIL
This is the sorrowful story,
THE ENGLISH FLAG
Winds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro,
"CLEARED"
Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt,
AN IMPERIAL RESCRIPT
Now this is the tale of the Council the German Kaiser decreed,
TOMLINSON
Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square,
L'ENVOI TO "LIFE'S HANDICAP"
My new-cut ashlar takes the light,
L'ENVOI
There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
___
] ]
]___]___
] ]
___] ]
[In India, the swastika is an ancient symbol of good fortune.
Kipling frequently used the swastika in this context.]
THE SEVEN SEAS
1891-1896
DEDICATION
The Cities are full of pride,
THE SEVEN SEAS
A SONG OF THE ENGLISH
Fair is our lot -- O goodly is our heritage!
The Coastwise Lights
Our brows are bound with spindrift and the weed is on our knees,
The Song of the Dead
Hear now the Song of the Dead -- in the North by the torn berg-edges,
The Deep-Sea Cables
The wrecks dissolve above us; their dust drops down from afar --,
The Song of the Sons
One from the ends of the earth -- gifts at an open door --,
The Song of the Cities
Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen,
England's Answer
Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban,
THE FIRST CHANTEY
Mine was the woman to me, darkling I found her,
THE LAST CHANTEY
Thus said The Lord in the Vault above the Cherubim,
THE MERCHANTMEN
King Solomon drew merchantmen,
M'ANDREW'S HYMN
Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,
THE MIRACLES
I sent a message to my dear,
THE NATIVE-BORN
We've drunk to the Queen -- God bless her!
THE KING
"Farewell, Romance!" the Cave-men said,
THE RHYME OF THE THREE SEALERS
Away by the lands of the Japanee,
THE DERELICT
I was the staunchest of our fleet,
THE ANSWER
A Rose, in tatters, on the garden path,
THE SONG OF THE BANJO
You couldn't pack a Broadwood half a mile,
THE LINER SHE'S A LADY
The Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds,
MULHOLLAND'S CONTRACT
The fear was on the cattle, for the gale was on the sea,
ANCHOR SONG
Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah heave her short again!
FROM "MANY INVENTIONS".
THE LOST LEGION
There's a Legion that never was 'listed,
THE SEA-WIFE
There dwells a wife by the Northern Gate,
HYMN BEFORE ACTION
The earth is full of anger,
TO THE TRUE ROMANCE
Thy face is far from this our war,
FROM "MANY INVENTIONS".
THE FLOWERS
Buy my English posies!
THE LAST RHYME OF TRUE THOMAS
The king has called for priest and cup,
IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE
In the Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage,
THE STORY OF UNG
Once, on a glittering ice-field, ages and ages ago,
THE THREE-DECKER
Full thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail,
AN AMERICAN
If the Led Striker call it a strike,
THE "MARY GLOSTER"
I've paid for your sickest fancies; I've humoured your crackedest whim,
SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYAL
Speakin' in general, I 'ave tried 'em all,
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS
"BACK TO THE ARMY AGAIN"
I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at,
"BIRDS OF PREY" MARCH
March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies,
"SOLDIER AN' SAILOR TOO"
As I was spitting into the Ditch aboard o' the _Crocodile_,
SAPPERS
When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear,
THAT DAY
It got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope,
"THE MEN THAT FOUGHT AT MINDEN"
The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time,
CHOLERA CAMP
We've got the cholerer in camp -- it's worse than forty fights,
THE LADIES
I've taken my fun where I've found it,
BILL 'AWKINS
"'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?"
THE MOTHER-LODGE
There was Rundle, Station Master,
"FOLLOW ME 'OME"
There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot,
THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN'
'E was warned agin 'er,
THE JACKET
Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi,
THE 'EATHEN
The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone,
THE SHUT-EYE SENTRY
Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant,
"MARY, PITY WOMEN!"
You call yourself a man,
FOR TO ADMIRE
The Injian Ocean sets an' smiles,
L'ENVOI
When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS AND OTHER VERSES
1889-1891
TO WOLCOTT BALESTIER
Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled --
Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled --
Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.
They are purged of pride because they died, they know the worth of their bays,
They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the Gods of the Elder Days,
It is their will to serve or be still as fitteth our Father's praise.
'Tis theirs to sweep through the ringing deep where Azrael's outposts are,
Or buffet a path through the Pit's red wrath when God goes out to war,
Or hang with the reckless Seraphim on the rein of a red-maned star.
They take their mirth in the joy of the Earth --
they dare not grieve for her pain --
They know of toil and the end of toil, they know God's law is plain,
So they whistle the
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THE GROCERY MAN AND PECK'S BAD BOY.
Peck's Bad Boy and His Pa, No. 2
By George W. Peck
1883
[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: frontispiece]
[Illustration: titlepage]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
VARIEGATED DOGS--THE BAD BOY SLEEPS ON THE ROOF--A MAN DOESN'T
KNOW EVERYTHING AT FORTY-EIGHT--THE OLD MAN WANTS SOME POLLYNURIOUS
WATER--THE DYER'S DOGS--PROCESSION OF THE DOGS--PINK, BLUE, GREEN AND
WHITE--"WELL, I'M DEM'd"--HIS PA DON'T APPRECIATE.
CHAPTER II.
HIS PA PLAYS JOKES--A MAN SHOULDN'T GET MAD AT A JOKE--THE MAGIC
BOUQUET--THE GROCERY MAN TAKES A TURN--HIS PA TRIES THE BOUQUET AT
CHURCH--ONE FOR THE OLD MAID--A FIGHT ENSUES--THE BAD BOY THREATENS THE
GROCERY man--A COMPROMISE.
CHAPTER III.
HIS PA STABBED--THE GROCERY MAN SETS A TRAP IN VAIN--A BOOM IN
LINIMENT--HIS PA GOES TO THE LANGTRY SHOW--THE BAD BOY TURNS
BURGLAR--THE OLD MAN STABBED--HIS ACCOUNT OF THE FRAY--A GOOD SINGLE
HANDED LIAR.
CHAPTER IV.
HIS PA BUSTED--THE CRAZE FOR MINING STOCK--WHAT'S A BILK?--THE PIOUS
BILK--THE OLD MAN INVESTS--THE DEACONS AND EVEN THE HIRED GIRLS
INVEST--HOT MAPLE SYRUP FOR ONE--GETTING A MAN'S MIND OFF HIS TROUBLES.
CHAPTER V.
HIS PA AND DYNAMITE--THE OLD MAN SELLING SILVER STOCK--FENIAN
SCARE--"DYNAMITE" IN MILWAUKEE--THE FENIAN BOOM--"GREAT GOD, MANNER!
WE ARE BLOWED UP!"--HIS MA HAS LOTS OF SAND--THE OLD MAN USELESS IN
TROUBLE--THE DOG AND THE FALSE TEETH
CHAPTER VI.
HIS PA AN ORANGEMAN--THE GROCERY MAN SHAMEFULLY ABUSED--HE GETS
HOT--BUTTER, OLEOMARGARINE AND AXLE GREASE--THE OLD MAN WEARS ORANGE
ON ST. PATRICK'S DAY--HE HAS TO RUN FOR HIS LIFE--THE BAD BOY AT SUNDAY
SCHOOL--INGERSOLL AND BEECHER VOTED OUT--MARY HAD A LAMB
CHAPTER VII.
HIS MA DECEIVES HIM--THE BAD BOY IN SEARCH OF SAFFRON--"WELL, IT'S A
GIRL, IF YOU MUST KNOW"--THE BAD BOY IS GRIEVED AT HIS MA'S DECEPTION--
"SH-H-H TOOTSY GO TO SLEEP"--"BY LOW, BABY"--THAT SETTLED IT WITH
THE CAT--A BABY! BAH! IT MAKES ME TIRED
CHAPTER VIII.
THE BABY AND THE GOAT. THE BAD BOY THINKS HIS SISTER WILL BE A FIRE
ENGINE--"OLD NUMBER TWO"--BABY REQUIRES GOAT MILK--? THE GOAT IS
FRISKY--TAKES TO EATING ROMAN CANDLES--THE OLD MAN, THE HIRED GIRL, AND
THE GOAT--THE BAD BOY BECOMES TELLER IN A LIVERY STABLE
CHAPTER IX.
A FUNERAL PROCESSION--THE BAD BOY ON CRUTCHES--"YOU OUGHT TO SEE THE
MINISTER"--AN ELEVEN DOLLAR FUNERAL--THE MINISTER TAKES THE LINES--AN
EARTHQUAKE--AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE WAS OVER--THE POLICEMAN FANS THE
MINISTER--A MINISTER SHOULD HAVE SENSE
CHAPTER X.
THE OLD MAN MAKES A SPEECH. THE GROCERY MAN AND THE BAD BOY HAVE
A FUSS--THE BOHEMIAN BAND--THE BAD BOY ORGANIZES A SERENADE--"BABY
MINE"--THE OLD MAN ELOQUENT--THE BOHEMIANS CREATE A FAMINE--THE Y. M. C.
A. ANNOUNCEMENT
CHAPTER XI.
GARDENING UNDER DIFFICULTIES--THE GROCERY MAN IS DECEIVED--THE BAD
BOY DON'T LIKE MOVING--GOES INTO THE COLORING BUSINESS--THE OLD MAN
THOROUGHLY DISGUSTED--UNCLE TOM AND TOPSY--THE OLD MAN ARRESTED--WHAT
THE GROC
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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)
[Numerous typographical errors, as well as many (but not all) of the
mis-placed or missing accents of Spanish words, have been corrected.
Please see the list of these at the end of this etext.
(note of etext transcriber)]
[Illustration: image of the book's cover]
_The Story of Seville_
"He who Seville has not seen,
Has not seen a marvel great."
"To whom God loves He gives a house in Seville."
_Popular Spanish Sayings._
[Illustration: _Saints Justa y Rufina_
_From the painting by Goya_]
_The Story of Seville
by Walter M. Gallichan_
_With Three Chapters on the Artists
of Seville by C. Gasquoine Hartley
Illustrated by Elizabeth Hartley_
[Illustration: colophon]
_London: J. M. Dent & Co.
Aldine House, 29 and 30 Bedford Street
Covent Garden, W.C._ * * 1903
_All Rights Reserved_
PREFACE
In the story of Seville I have endeavoured to interest the reader in the
associations of the buildings and the thoroughfares of the city.
I do not claim to have written a full history of Seville, though I have
sketched the salient events in its annals in the opening chapters of
this book. The history of Seville is the history of Spain, and if I have
omitted many matters of historical importance from my pages, it is
because I wished to focus attention upon the city itself. I trust that I
have succeeded in awaking here and there an echo of the past, and in
bringing before the imagination the figures of Moorish potentate or
sage, and of Spanish ruler, artist, priest and soldier.
Those who are acquainted with the history of Spain will appreciate the
difficulty that besets the historian in the matter of chronological
accuracy, and even
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Produced by Distributed Proofreaders
Life: Its True Genesis
By R. W. Wright
[Masoretic Hebrew.]--אֲׁשֶֽר זַרְעוׄ־בִל עַל־הָאָ֑רֶע׃.--
Οὗ τὸ σπέρμα αὐτοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ χατὰ γένος ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς. [Septuagint.]
"Whose general principle of life, each in itself after its own kind, is
upon the earth." [Correct Translation.]
Second Edition
1884
RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
TO
ARTHUR E. HOTCHKISS, ESQ.
OF CHESHIRE, CONN.
Contents.
Prefatory
Chapter I. Introductory.
Chapter II. Life--Its True Genesis.
Chapter III. Alternations of Forest Growths.
Chapter IV. The Distribution and Vitality of Seeds.
Chapter V. Plant Migration and Interglacial Periods.
Chapter VI. Distribution and Permanence of Species.
Chapter VII. What Is Life? Its Various Theories.
Chapter VIII. Materialistic Theories of Life Refuted.
Chapter IX. Force-Correlation, Differentiation and Other Life Theories.
Chapter X. Darwinism Considered from a Vitalistic Stand-point.
Preface to Second Edition.
Here is the law of life, as laid down by the eagle-eyed prophet Isaiah, in
that remarkable chapter commencing, "Ho, every one that
thirsteth"--whether it be after knowledge, or any other earthly or
spiritual good--come unto me and I will give you that which you seek. This
is the spirit of the text, and these are the words at the commencement of
the tenth verse:
"As the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not
thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it (_the earth_) bring forth
and bud (_not first bud, bear seed, and then bring forth_), that it (_the
earth_) may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater (_man being the
only sower of seed and eater of bread_): so shall my Word be (_the Word of
Life_) that goeth forth out of my mouth (_the mouth of the Lord_); it
shall not return unto me void (_i.e., lifeless_), but it shall accomplish
that which I (_the Lord Jehovah_) please, and it (_the living Word_) shall
prosper in the thing whereto I sent it."
This formula of life is as true now as it was over two thousand six
hundred years ago, when it was penned by the divinely inspired prophet,
and it is as true now as it was then, that "Instead of the thorn shall
come up the fir tree, and instead of the briar shall come up the myrtle
tree; and it shall be to the Lord for a name, for an everlasting sign that
shall not be cut off." That is, as the rains descend and the floods come
and change the face of the earth, a law, equivalent to the divine command,
"Let the earth bring forth," is forever operative, changing the face of
nature and causing it to give expression to new forms of life as the
conditions thereof are changed, and these forms are spoken into existence
by the divine fiat.
In all the alternations of forest growths that are taking place to-day, on
this continent or elsewhere, this one vital law is traceable everywhere.
In the course of the next year, it will be as palpable in the Island of
Java, recently desolated by the most disastrous earthquake recorded in
history, as in any other portion of the earth, however free from such
volcanic action. On the very spot where mountain ranges disappeared in a
flaming sea of fire, and other ranges were thrown up in parallel lines but
on different bases, and where it was evident that every seed, plant, tree,
and thing of life perished in one common vortex of ruin, animal as well as
vegetable life will make its appearance in obedience to this law, as soon
as the rains shall again descend, cool the basaltic and other rocks, and
the life-giving power referred to by Isaiah once more become operative.
There is no more doubt of this in the mind of the learned naturalist, than
in that of the most devout believer of the Bible, from which this most
remarkable formula is taken.
We have no disposition to arraign the American and European "Agnostics,"
as they are pleased to call themselves, for using the term "Nature"
instead of God, in their philosophical writings.
As long as they are evidently earnest seekers after _Truth_ as it is to be
found in nature--the work of God--they are most welcome into the temple of
science, and their theories deserve our thoughtful consideration. It is
only when they become dogmatic, and assert propositions that have no
foundation in truth, as we sincerely believe, that we propose to break a
lance at their expense, and lay bare their fallacies. We claim nothing
more for ourself, as a scientific writer, than
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A
MANUAL
OR AN
EASY METHOD
OF
MANAGING BEES,
IN THE MOST
PROFITABLE MANNER TO THEIR OWNER,
WITH
INFALLIBLE RULES TO PREVENT THEIR
DESTRUCTION BY THE MOTH.
BY JOHN M. WEEKS,
Of Salisbury, Vt.
SECOND EDITION.
MIDDLEBURY:
ELAM R. JEWETT, PRINTER.
1837.
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1836.
By John M. Weeks,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Vermont.
PREFACE.
It appears to the writer of the following pages, that a work of this
description is much needed in our country.
The cultivation of the bee (Apis Mellifica) has been too long neglected in
most parts of the United States.
This general neglect has unquestionably originated from the fact, that the
European enemy to the bees, called the moth, has found its way into this
country, and has located and naturalized itself here; and has made so much
havoc among the bees, that many districts have entirely abandoned their
cultivation. Many Apiarians, and men of the highest literary attainments,
as well as experience, have nearly exhausted their patience, in examining
the peculiar nature and habits of this insect; and have tried various
experiments to devise some means of preventing its depredations. But,
after all that has been done, the spoiler moves onward with little
molestation, and very few of our citizens are willing to engage in the
enterprize of cultivating this most useful and profitable of all insects,
the honey-bee.
The following work is comprised in a set of plain, concise rules, by
which, if strictly adhered to and practised, any person, properly
situated, may cultivate bees, and avail himself of all the benefits of
their labors.
If the Apiarian manages strictly in accordance with the following rules,
the author feels confident that no colony will ever materially suffer by
the moth, or will ever be destroyed by them.
The author is aware of the numerous treatises published on this subject;
but they appear to him, for the most part, to be the result not so much of
experience as of vague and conjectural speculation, and not sufficiently
embodying what is practical and useful.
This work is intended as an accompaniment to the Vermont hive, and will be
found to be the result of observation and experience, and it is thought
comprises all that is necessary to make a skilful Apiarian.
THE AUTHOR.
INDEX
CHAPTER
Rule I. On the construction of the hive, 5
Rule II. On swarming and hiving, 11
Rule III. On ventilating, 23
Rule IV. On preventing robberies, 24
Rule V. On equalizing colonies, by doubling, trebling, &c, 26
Rule VI. On removing honey, 30
Rule VII. The method of compelling swarms to make extra
Queens, and keep them for the use of their owner, 33
Rule VIII. On supplying swarms with Queens, when necessary, 38
Rule IX. On multiplying colonies to any desirable extent,
without swarming, 42
Rule X. On preventing the depredations of the moth, 43
Rule XI. On feeding, 56
Rule XII. On wintering, 60
Rule XIII. On transferring bees from one hive to another, 60
XIV. General Observations, 65
MANUAL, &c.
RULE I.
ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF A BEE-HIVE.
A bee-hive should be made of sound boards, free from shakes and cracks; it
should also be planed smooth, inside and out, made in a workmanlike
manner, and painted on its outside.
REMARKS.
That a bee-hive should be made perfect, so as to exclude light and air, is
obvious from the fact, that the bees will finish what the workman has
neglected, by plastering up all such cracks and crevices, or bad joints,
as are left open by the joiner. The substance they use for this purpose is
neither honey nor wax, but a kind of glue or cement of their own
manufacturing, and is used by the bees to fill up all imperfect joints and
exclude all light and air. This cement or glue is very congenial to the
growth of the moth in the first stages of its existence
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TEN YEARS AT SKOKOMISH.
[Illustration: SKOKOMISH AGENCY.]
TEN YEARS
OF
MISSIONARY WORK
AMONG THE INDIANS
AT
SKOKOMISH, WASHINGTON TERRITORY.
1874-1884.
BY REV. M. EELLS,
_Missionary of the American Missionary Association_.
BOSTON:
Congregational Sunday-School and Publishing Society,
CONGREGATIONAL HOUSE,
CORNER BEACON AND SOMERSET STREETS.
COPYRIGHT, 1886, BY
CONGREGATIONAL SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND PUBLISHING SOCIETY
_Electrotyped and printed by
Stanley & Usher, 171 Devonshire Street, Boston._
PREFACE.
Says Mrs. J. McNair Wright: “If the church can only be plainly shown the
need, amount, prospects, and methods of work in any given field, a vital
interest will at once arise in that field, and money for it will not be
lacking. The missionary columns in our religious papers do not supply
the information needed fully to set our missions before the church. Our
home-mission work needs to be ‘written up.’ The foreign field has found
a large increase of interest in its labors from the numerous books that
have been written,--_interestingly written_,--giving descriptions of the
work, the countries where the missionaries toil, and the lives of the
missionaries themselves. The Pueblo, the Mormon, and the American Indian
work should be similarly brought before the church. A book gives a
compact, united view of a subject; the same view given monthly or weekly
in the columns of periodicals loses much of its force and, moreover, is
much less likely to meet the notice of the young. A hearty missionary
spirit will be had in our church only when we furnish our youth with
more books on missionary themes.”[1]
In accordance with these ideas the following pages have been written.
It is surprising to find how few books can be obtained on missionary
work among the Indians. After ten years of effort the writer has only
been able to secure twenty-six books on such work in the United States,
and five of these are 18mo. volumes of less than forty pages each. Only
five of these have been published within the last fifteen years. Books
on the adventurous, scientific, and political departments of Indian life
are numerous and large; the reverse is true of the missionary
department. Hence it is not strange that such singular ideas predominate
among the American people in regard to the Indian problem.
M. E.
SKOKOMISH, WASHINGTON TERRITORY, August, 1884.
DEDICATION.
TO MY WIFE,
SARAH M. EELLS,
Who has been my companion during these ten years of labor; who has
cheered me, and made a Christian home for me to run into as into a safe
hiding-place, and who has been an example to the Indians,--these pages
are affectionately inscribed.
NOTE.
Much of the information contained in the following pages has been
published, especially in _The American Missionary_ of New York and _The
Pacific_ of San Francisco. Yet, in writing these pages, so much of it
has been altered that it has been impracticable to give quotation-marks
and acknowledgment for each item. I therefore take this general way of
acknowledging my indebtedness to those publications.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION 11
I.
SKOKOMISH 15
II.
PRELIMINARY HISTORY 17
III.
EARLY RELIGIOUS TEACHING 21
IV.
SUBSEQUENT POLITICAL HISTORY 26
V.
THE FIELD AND THE WORK 28
VI.
DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY OF RELIGIOUS WORK 33
(_a_) LANGUAGES 33
(_b_) THEIR RELIGION 37
(_c_) BESETTING SINS 53
VII.
TEMPERANCE 60
VIII.
INDUSTRIES 69
IX.
TITLES TO THEIR LANDS 74
X.
MODE OF LIVING 82
XI.
NAMES 85
XII.
EDUCATION 87
XIII.
FOURTH OF JULY 93
XIV.
CHRISTMAS 97
XV.
VARIETY 100
XVI.
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE 105
XVII.
SICKNESS 118
XVIII.
FUNERALS 122
XIX.
THE CENSUS OF 1880 132
XX.
THE INFLUENCE OF THE WHITES 144
XXI.
THE CHURCH AT SKOKOMISH 149
XXII.
BIG BILL 158
XXIII.
DARK DAYS 163
XXIV.
LIGHT BREAKING 170
XXV.
THE FIRST BATTLE 172
XXVI.
THE VICTORY 180
XXVII.
RECONSTRUCTION 184
XXVIII.
JOHN FOSTER PALMER 188
XXIX.
M---- F---- 191
XXX.
DISCOURAGING CASES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS 195
XXXI.
THE CHURCH AT JAMESTOWN 200
XXXII.
COOK HOUSE BILLY 209
XXXIII.
LORD JAMES BALCH 214
XXXIV.
TOURING 216
XXXV.
THE BIBLE AND OTHER BOOKS 223
XXXVI.
BIBLE PICTURES 227
XXXVII.
THE SABBATH-SCHOOL 230
XXXVIII.
PRAYER
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THE YELLOW WALLPAPER
By Charlotte Perkins Gilman
It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure
ancestral halls for the summer.
A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house,
and reach the height of romantic felicity--but that would be asking too
much of fate!
Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer about it.
Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood so long
untenanted?
John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage
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Distributed Proofreading Team
NORTHERN TRAILS
BOOK I
By
William J. Long
_WOOD FOLK SERIES BOOK VI_
1905
PREFACE
In the original preface to "Northern Trails" the author stated that,
with the solitary exception of the salmon's life in the sea after he
vanishes from human sight, every incident recorded here is founded
squarely upon personal and accurate observation of animal life and
habits. I now repeat and emphasize that statement. Even when the
observations are, for the reader's sake, put into the form of a
connected story, there is not one trait or habit mentioned which is not
true to animal life.
Such a statement ought to be enough, especially as I have repeatedly
furnished evidence from reliable eye-witnesses to support every
observation that the critics have challenged; but of late a strenuous
public attack has been made upon the wolf story in this volume by two
men claiming to speak with authority. They take radical exception to my
record of a big white wolf killing a young caribou by snapping at the
chest and heart. They declared this method of killing to be "a
mathematical impossibility" and, by inference, a gross falsehood,
utterly ruinous to true ideas of wolves and of natural history.
As no facts or proofs are given to support this charge, the first thing
which a sensible man naturally does is to examine the fitness of the
critics, in order to ascertain upon what knowledge or experience they
base their dogmatic statements. One of these critics is a man who has no
personal knowledge of wolves or caribou, who asserts that the animal has
no possibility of reason or intelligence, and who has for years publicly
denied the observations of other men which tend to disprove his ancient
theory. It seems hardly worth while to argue about either wolves or men
with such a naturalist, or to point out that Descartes' idea of animals,
as purely mechanical or automatic creatures, has long since been laid
aside and was never considered seriously by any man who had lived close
to either wild or domestic animals. The second critic's knowledge of
wolves consists almost entirely of what he has happened to see when
chasing the creatures with dogs and hunters. Judging by his own nature
books, with their barbaric records of slaughter, his experience of wild
animals was gained while killing them. Such a man will undoubtedly
discover some things about animals, how they fight and hide and escape
their human enemies; but it hardly needs any argument to show that the
man who goes into the woods with dogs and rifles and the desire to kill
can never understand any living animal.
If you examine now any of the little books which he condemns, you will
find a totally different story: no record of chasing and killing, but
only of patient watching, of creeping near to wild animals and winning
their confidence whenever it is possible, of following them day and
night with no motive but the pure love of the thing and no object but to
see exactly what each animal is doing and to understand, so far as a man
can, the mystery of its dumb life.
Naturally a man in this attitude will see many traits of animal life
which are hidden from the game-killer as well as from the scientific
collector of skins. For instance, practically all wild animals are shy
and timid and run away at man's approach. This is the general experience
not only of hunters but of casual observers in the woods. Yet my own
experience has many times shown me exactly the opposite trait: that when
these same shy animals find me unexpectedly close at hand, more than
half the time they show no fear whatever but only an eager curiosity to
know who and what the creature is that sits so quietly near them.
Sometimes, indeed, they seem almost to understand the mental attitude
which has no thought of harm but only of sympathy and friendly interest.
Once I was followed for hours by a young wolf which acted precisely like
a lost dog, too timid to approach and too curious or lonely to run away.
He even wagged his tail when I called to him softly. Had I shot him on
sight, I would probably have foolishly believed that he intended to
attack me when he came trotting along my trail. Three separate times I
have touched a wild deer with my hand; once I touched a moose, once an
eagle, once a bear; and a score of times at least I have had to frighten
these big animals or get out of their way, when their curiosity brought
them too near for perfect comfort.
So much for the personal element, for the general attitude and fitness
of the observer and his critics. But the question is not chiefly a
personal one; it is simply a matter of truth and observation, and the
only honest or scientific method is, first, to go straight to nature and
find out the facts; and then--lest your own eyesight or judgment be at
fault--to consult other observers to find if, perchance, they also have
seen the facts exemplified. This is not so easy as to dogmatize or to
write animal stories; but it is the only safe method, and one which the
nature writer as well as the scientist must follow if his work is to
endure.
Following this good method, when the critics had proclaimed that my
record of a big wolf killing a young caribou by biting into the chest
and heart was an impossibility, I went straight to the big woods and, as
soon as the law allowed, secured photographs and exact measurements of
the first full-grown deer that crossed my trail. These photographs and
measurements show beyond any possibility of honest doubt the following
facts: (1) The lower chest of a deer, between and just behind the
forelegs, is thin and wedge-shaped, exactly as I stated, and the point
of the heart is well down in this narrow wedge. The distance through the
chest and point of the heart from side to side was, in this case,
exactly four and one-half inches. A man's hand, as shown in the
photograph, can easily grasp the whole lower chest of a deer, placing
thumb and forefinger over the heart on opposite sides. (2) The heart of
a deer, and indeed of all ruminant animals, lies close against the chest
walls and is easily reached and wounded. The chest cartilage, except in
an old deer, is soft; the ribs are thin and easily crushed, and the
spaces between the ribs are wide enough to admit a man's finger, to say
nothing of a wolf's fang. In this case the point of the heart, as the
deer lay on his side, was barely five eights of an inch from the
surface. (3) Any dog or wolf, therefore, having a spread of jaws of four
and one-half inches, and fangs three quarters of an inch long, could
easily grasp the chest of this deer from beneath and reach the heart
from either side. As the jaws of the big northern wolf spread from six
to eight inches and his fangs are over an inch long, to kill a deer in
this way would require but a slight effort. The chest of a caribou is
anatomically exactly like that of other deer; only the caribou fawn and
yearling of "Northern Trails" have smaller chests than the animals I
measured.
So much for the facts and the possibilities. As for specific instances,
years ago I found a deer just killed in the snow and beside him the
fresh tracks of a big wolf, which had probably been frightened away at
my approach. The deer was bitten just behind and beneath the left
shoulder, and one long fang had entered the heart. There was not another
scratch on the body, so far as I could discover. I thought this very
exceptional at the time; but years afterwards my Indian guide in the
interior of Newfoundland assured me that it was a common habit of
killing caribou among the big white wolves with which he was familiar.
To show that the peculiar habit is not confined to any one section, I
quote here from the sworn statements of three other eyewitnesses. The
first is superintendent of the Algonquin National Park, a man who has
spent a lifetime in the North Woods and who has at present an excellent
opportunity for observing wild-animal habits; the second is an educated
Sioux Indian; the third is a geologist and mining engineer, now
practicing his profession in Philadelphia.
ALGONQUIN PARK, ONTARIO, August 31, 1907.
This certifies that during the past thirty years spent in our Canadian
wilds, I have seen several animals killed by our large timber wolves. In
the winter of 1903 I saw two deer thus killed on Smoke Lake, Nipissing,
Ontario. One deer was bitten through the front chest, the other just
behind the foreleg. In each case there was no other wound on the body.
[Signed] G.W. BARTLETT, _Superintendent_.
I certify that I lived for twenty years in northern Nebraska and Dakota,
in a region where timber wolves were abundant.... I saw one horse that
had just been killed by a wolf. The front of his chest was torn open to
the heart. There was no other wound on the body. I once watched a wolf
kill a stray horse on the open prairie. He kept nipping at the hind
legs, making the horse turn rapidly till he grew dizzy and fell down.
Then the wolf snapped or bit into his chest.... The horse died in a few
moments.
[Signed] STEPHEN JONES (HEPIDAN).
I certify that in November, 1900, while surveying in Wyoming, my party
saw two wolves chase a two-year-old colt over a cliff some fifteen or
sixteen feet high. I was on the spot with two others immediately after
the incident occurred. The only injuries to the colt, aside from a
broken leg, were deep lacerations made by wolf fangs in the chest behind
the foreshoulder. In addition to this personal observation I have
frequently heard from hunters, herders, and cowboys that big wolves
frequently kill deer and other animals by snapping at the chest.
[Signed] F.S. PUSEY.
I have more evidence of the same kind from the region which I described
in "Northern Trails"; but I give these three simply to show that what
one man discovers as a surprising trait of some individual wolf or deer
may be common enough when we open our eyes to see. The fact that wolves
do not always or often kill in this way has nothing to do with the
question. I know one small region where old wolves generally hunt in
pairs and, so far as I can discover, one wolf always trips or throws the
game, while the other invariably does the killing at the throat. In
another region, including a part of Algonquin Park, in Ontario, I have
the records of several deer killed by wolves in a single winter; and in
every case the wolf slipped up behind his game and cut the femoral
artery, or the inner side of the hind leg, and then drew back quietly,
allowing the deer to bleed to death.
The point is, that because a thing is unusual or interesting it is not
necessarily false, as my dogmatic critics would have you believe. I have
studied animals, not as species but as individuals, and have recorded
some things which other and better naturalists have overlooked; but I
have sought for facts, first of all, as zealously as any biologist, and
have recorded only what I have every reason to believe is true. That
these facts are unusual means simply that we have at last found natural
history to be interesting, just as the discovery of unusual men and
incidents gives charm and meaning to the records of our humanity. There
may be honest errors or mistakes in these books--and no one tries half
so hard as the author to find and correct them--but meanwhile the fact
remains that, though six volumes of the Wood Folk books have already
been published, only three slight errors have thus far been pointed out,
and these were promptly and gratefully acknowledged.
The simple truth is that these observations of mine, though they are all
true, do not tell more than a small fraction of the interesting things
that wild animals do continually in their native state, when they are
not frightened by dogs and hunters, or when we are not blinded by our
preconceived notions in watching them. I have no doubt that romancing is
rife just now on the part of men who study animals in a library; but
personally, with my note-books full of incidents which I have never yet
recorded, I find the truth more interesting, and I cannot understand why
a man should deliberately choose romance when he can have the greater
joy of going into the wilderness to see with his own eyes and to
understand with his own heart just how the animals live. One thing seems
to me to be more and more certain: that we are only just beginning to
understand wild animals, and it is chiefly our own barbarism, our lust
of killing, our stupid stuffed specimens, and especially our prejudices
which stand in the way of greater knowledge. Meanwhile the critic who
asserts dogmatically what a wild animal will or will not do under
certain conditions only proves how carelessly he has watched them and
how little he has learned of Nature's infinite variety.
WILLIAM J. LONG
STAMFORD, CONNECTICUT
CONTENTS
WAYEESES THE STRONG ONE
THE OLD WOLF'S CHALLENGE
WHERE THE TRAIL BEGINS
NOEL AND MOOKA
THE WAY OF THE WOLF
THE WHITE WOLF'S HUNTING
TRAILS THAT CROSS IN THE SNOW
GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMES
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
"A QUICK SNAP WHERE THE HEART LAY"
"THE TERRIBLE HOWL OF A GREAT WHITE WOLF"
"WATCHING HER GROWING YOUNGSTERS"
"AS THE MOTHER'S LONG JAWS CLOSED OVER THE SMALL OF THE BACK"
"THE SILENT, APPALLING DEATH-WATCH BEGAN"
WAYEESES THE STRONG ONE
_The Old Wolf's Challenge_
We were beating up the Straits to the Labrador when a great gale swooped
down on us and drove us like a scared wild duck into a cleft in the
mountains, where the breakers roared and the seals barked on the black
rocks and the reefs bared their teeth on either side, like the long jaws
of a wolf, to snap at us as we passed.
In our flight we had picked up a fisherman--snatched him out of his
helpless punt as we luffed in a smother of spray, and dragged him
aboard, like an enormous frog, at the end of the jib sheet--and it was
he who now stood at the wheel of our little schooner and took her
careening in through the tickle of Harbor Woe. There, in a desolate,
rock-bound refuge on the Newfoundland coast, the _Wild Duck_ swung to
her anchor, veering nervously in the tide rip, tugging impatiently and
clanking her chains as if eager to be out again in the turmoil. At
sunset the gale blew itself out, and presently the moon wheeled full and
clear over the dark mountains.
Noel, my big Indian, was curled up asleep in a caribou skin by the
foremast; and the crew were all below asleep, every man glad in his
heart to be once more safe in a snug harbor. All about us stretched the
desolate wastes of sea and mountains, over which silence and darkness
brooded, as over the first great chaos. Near at hand were the black
rocks, eternally wet and smoking with the fog and gale; beyond towered
the icebergs, pale, cold, glittering like spires of silver in the
moonlight; far away, like a vague shadow, a handful of little gray
houses clung like barnacles to the base of a great bare hill whose foot
was in the sea and whose head wavered among the clouds of heaven. Not a
light shone, not a sound or a sign of life came from these little
houses, whose shells close daily at twilight over the life within, weary
with the day's work. Only the dogs were restless--those strange
creatures that shelter in our houses and share our bread, yet live in
another world, a dumb, silent, lonely world shut out from ours by
impassable barriers.
For hours these uncanny dogs had puzzled me, a score of vicious, hungry
brutes that drew the sledges in winter and that picked up a vagabond
living in the idle summer by hunting rabbits and raiding the fishermen's
flakes and pig-pens and by catching flounders in the sea as the tide
ebbed. Venture among them with fear in your heart and they would fly at
your legs and throat like wild beasts; but twirl a big stick jauntily,
or better still go quietly on your way without concern, and they would
skulk aside and watch you hungrily out of the corners of their surly
eyes, whose lids were red and bloodshot as a mastiff's. When the moon
rose I noticed them flitting about like witches on the lonely shore,
miles away from the hamlet; now sitting on their tails in a solemn
circle; now howling all together as if demented, and anon listening
intently in the vast silence, as if they heard or smelled or perhaps
just felt the presence of some unknown thing that was hidden from human
senses. And when I paddled ashore to watch them one ran swiftly past
without heeding me, his nose outstretched, his eyes green as foxfire in
the moonlight, while the others vanished like shadows among the black
rocks, each intent on his unknown quest.
That is why I had come up from my warm bunk at midnight to sit alone on
the taffrail, listening in the keen air to the howling that made me
shiver, spite of myself, and watching in the vague moonlight to
understand if possible what the brutes felt amid the primal silence and
desolation.
A long interval of profound stillness had passed, and I could just make
out the circle of dogs sitting on their tails on the open shore, when
suddenly, faint and far away, an unearthly howl came rolling down the
mountains, _ooooooo-ow-wow-wow!_ a long wailing crescendo beginning
softly, like a sound in a dream, and swelling into a roar that waked the
sleeping echoes and set them jumping like startled goats from crag to
crag. Instantly the huskies answered, every clog breaking out into
indescribable frenzied wailings, as a coll
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Transcriber's Note: [=o] = macron above letter
* * * * *
BOYS AND GIRLS BOOKSHELF
_A Practical Plan of Character Building_
COMPLETE IN SEVENTEEN VOLUMES
I Fun and Thought for Little Folk
II Folk-Lore, Fables, and Fairy Tales
III Famous Tales and Nature Stories
IV Things to Make and Things to Do
V True Stories from Every Land
VI Famous Songs and Picture Stories
VII Nature and Outdoor Life, Part I
VIII Nature and Outdoor Life, Part II
IX Earth, Sea, and Sky
X Games and Handicraft
XI Wonders of Invention
XII Marvels of Industry
XIII Every Land and its Story
XIV Famous Men and Women
XV Bookland--Story and Verse, Part I
XVI Bookland--Story and Verse, Part II
XVII Graded and Classified Index
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
INCORPORATED
_New York_
[Illustration: THE SUNSET FAIRIES
FROM A DRAWING BY FLORENCE MARY ANDERSON]
BOYS AND GIRLS
BOOKSHELF
_A Practical Plan of Character Building_
Little Folks' Section
[Illustration: INSTRUCTIVE PLAY... VOCATIONAL GUIDANCE
The Four Fold Life
MENTAL PHYSICAL SOCIAL MORAL]
Prepared Under the Supervision of
THE EDITORIAL BOARD _of the_ UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
Volume II
FOLK-LORE, FABLES, AND FAIRY TALES
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
INCORPORATED
_New York_
Copyright, 1920, By
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY INC.
Copyright, 1912, 1915, By
THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY INC.
_Manufactured in the U. S. A._
INTRODUCTION
This volume is devoted to a choice collection of the standard and
new fairy-tales, wonder stories, and fables. They speak so truly and
convincingly for themselves that we wish to use this introductory page
only to emphasize their value to young children. There are still those
who find no room in their own reading, and would give none in the
reading of the young, except for facts. They confuse facts and truth,
and forget that there is a world of truth that is larger than the mere
facts of life, being compact of imagination and vision and ideals. Dr.
Hamilton Wright Mabie convinced us of this in his cogent words.
"America," he said, "has at present greater facility in producing
'smart' men than in producing able men; the alert, quick-witted
money-maker abounds, but the men who live with ideas, who care for the
principles of things, and who make life rich in resource and interest,
are comparatively few. America needs poetry more than it needs
industrial training, though the two ought never to be separated. The
time to awaken the imagination, which is the creative faculty, is early
childhood, and the most accessible material for this education is the
literature which the race created in its childhood."
The value of the fairy-tale and the wonder-tale is that they tell about
the magic of living. Like the old woman in Mother Goose, they "brush
the cobwebs out of the sky." They enrich, not cheapen, life. Plenty of
things do cheapen life for children. Most movies do. Sunday comic
supplements do. Ragtime songs do. Mere gossip does. But fairy stories
enhance life.
They are called "folk-tales," that is, tales of the common folk. They
were largely the dreams of the poor. They consist of fancies that have
illumined the hard facts of life. They find animals, trees, flowers,
and the stars friendly. They speak of victory. In them the child is
master even of dragons. He can live like a prince, in disguise, or,
if he be uncomely, he may hope to win Beauty after he is free of his
masquerade.
Wonder-stories help make good children as well as happy children.
In these stories witches, wolves, and evil persons are defeated or
exposed. Fairy godmothers are ministers of justice. The side that the
child wishes to triumph always does triumph, and so goodness always is
made to seem worth-while.
Almost every fairy-tale contains a test of character or shrewdness or
courage. Sharp distinctions are made, that require a child of parts to
discern.
And the heroes of these nursery tales are much more convincing than
precepts or golden texts, for they impress upon the child not merely
what he ought to do, but what nobly has been done. And the small
hero-worshiper will follow where his admirations lead.
Fables do much the same, and by imagining that the animals have arrived
at human speech and wisdom, they help the child to think shrewdly and
in a friendly way, as if in comradeship with his pets and with our
brothers and sisters, the beasts of the field and forest.
* * * * *
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION vii
#THE OLD FAIRY TALES#
THE ROAD TO FAIRY LAND 2
By Cecil Cavendish
THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS GOLDENLOCKS 3
PRINCE HYACINTH AND THE DEAR LITTLE PRINCESS 7
By Madame Leprince De Beaumont
CINDERELLA 10
By Charles Perrault
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY 13
Adapted from the Brothers Grimm
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 15
PRINCE DARLING 20
RUMPELSTILTSKIN 26
Adapted from the Grimm Brothers
RAPUNZELL, OR THE FAIR MAID WITH GOLDEN HAIR 28
By the Brothers Grimm
SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED 30
By the Brothers Grimm
HANSEL AND GRETHEL 34
By the Brothers Grimm
#STORIES BY FAVORITE AMERICAN WRITERS#
THE FLAG-BEARER 39
By Carolyn Sherwin Bailey
JOHNNY CHUCK FINDS THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD 40
By Thornton W. Burgess
LITTLE WEE PUMPKIN'S THANKSGIVING 41
By Madge A. Bingham
THE COMING OF THE KING 42
By Laura E. Richards
THE LITTLE PIG 44
By Maud Lindsay
THE TRAVELS OF THE LITTLE TOY SOLDIER 44
By Carolyn Sherwin Bailey
WHAT HAPPENED TO DUMPS 45
By Carolyn Sherwin Bailey
THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS 47
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
BALLAD OF THE LITTLE PAGE 48
By Abbie Farwell Brown
THE SNOW-IMAGE 51
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
THE CASTLE OF GEMS 55
By Sophie May
THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS 58
By Harriet Beecher Stowe
THE BALLAD OF PIPING WILL 63
By Anna Hempstead Branch
LITTLE ANNIE'S DREAM, OR THE FAIRY FLOWER 68
By Louisa M. Alcott
COMPANIONS 71
By Helen Hunt Jackson
PRINCE LITTLE BOY 73
By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D.
THE BEE-MAN OF ORN 77
By Frank R. Stockton
THE POT OF GOLD 82
By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
#VERSES ABOUT FAIRIES#
THE FAIRY THORN 87
By Samuel Ferguson
FAIRY DAYS 88
By William Makepeace Thackeray
THE FAIRY QUEEN 89
THE SEA PRINCESS 89
LONG AGO 89
THISTLE-TASSEL 90
By Florence Harrison
SONG OF THE FAIRY 90
By William Shakespeare
THE FAIRIES 92
By William Allingham
OH, WHERE DO FAIRIES HIDE THEIR HEADS? 92
By Thomas Haynes Bayly
#MODERN FAIRY TALES#
THE ELF OF THE WOODLANDS 93
Retold from Richard Hengist Horne by
William Byron Forbush
PRINCESS FINOLA AND THE DWARF 95
By Edmund Leamy
THE STRAW OX 100
THE LITTLE PRINCESS OF THE FEARLESS HEART 103
By B. J. Daskam
MOPSA THE FAIRY 110
Retold from Jean Ingelow
THE LINE OF GOLDEN LIGHT, OR THE LITTLE BLIND
SISTER 114
By Elizabeth Harrison
A FAIRY STORY ABOUT A PHILOSOPHER'S STONE WHICH
WAS LOST 118
By M. Bowley
THE BAD TEMPER OF THE PRINCESS 124
By Marian Burton
THE FLYING SHIP 130
ROBIN OF THE LOVING HEART 133
By Emma Endicott Marean
IN SPRING 137
A FAMOUS CASE 138
By Theodore C. Williams
#OLD-FASHIONED STORIES#
THE TWELVE HUNTSMEN 139
THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES 140
EDWY AND THE ECHO 143
THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A
VINEGAR-BOTTLE 146
THE SNOW QUEEN 148
THE MASTER-MAID 158
CAP O' RUSHES 163
FULFILLED 165
KING GRISLY-BEARD 166
Retold from the Brothers Grimm
#FABLES#
THE FOX AND THE GOAT 172
THE TWO FROGS 172
THE DOG IN THE MANGER 172
THE STAG AT THE POOL 172
THE WAR-HORSE AND THE ASS 172
THE FROGS WHO WANTED A KING 172
THE OX AND THE FROG 173
THE HERON WHO WAS HARD TO PLEASE 174
THE SHEPHERD BOY AND THE WOLF 175
THE ASS, THE COCK, AND THE LION 175
THE LION, THE BEAR, AND THE FOX 175
THE HORSE AND THE STAG 175
THE LION AND THE BOAR 175
THE HUNTSMAN AND THE FISHERMAN 175
THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN 176
THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE 177
THE FOX AND THE WOOD-CUTTER 178
THE LION AND OTHER BEASTS ON A HUNT 178
THE EAGLE AND THE ARROW 178
THE MOUSE AND THE FROG 178
THE WOLF AND THE GOAT 178
THE BAD DOG 178
THE KID AND THE WOLF 178
THE FOX AND THE GRAPES 179
THE FOX AND THE RAVEN 180
THE BULL AND THE GOAT 181
THE RAVEN AND THE SWAN 181
THE THIEF AND THE DOG 181
THE HORSE AND THE LOADED ASS 181
THE ASS WITH THE SALT 181
THE COCK AND THE JEWEL 181
THE FOX WHO HAD LOST HIS TAIL 181
THE EAGLE AND THE JACKDAW 182
THE HEN AND THE GOLDEN EGGS 183
THE DOG AND THE ASS 184
THE NORTH WIND AND THE SUN 184
THE FOX AND THE LION 184
THE CROW AND THE PITCHER 184
THE ASS AND HIS SHADOW 184
THE WOLF AND THE CRANE 184
THE FOX AND THE CRANE 185
THE CAT AND THE MONKEY 186
THE DANCING MONKEYS 187
THE HARES AND THE FROGS 187
THE LION AND THE GNAT 187
THE FROGS AND THE BULLS 187
THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES 187
BELLING THE CAT 187
A MILLER, HIS SON, AND THEIR ASS 188
THE TORTOISE AND THE EAGLE 190
THE PEACOCK AND JUNO 190
THE LION, THE FOX, AND THE ASS 190
THE FATHER AND HIS SONS 190
THE DOVE AND THE ANT 191
THE FOX AND THE CAT 192
THE ANTS AND THE GRASSHOPPER 193
#FABLES FROM INDIA#
Adapted by Ramaswami Raju
THE GLOW-WORM AND THE DAW 194
THE FOX AND THE VILLAGERS 194
THE FROG AND THE SNAKE 194
THE ASSEMBLY OF ANIMALS 194
THE COCK AND HIS THREE HENS 194
THE BLACK DOG AND THE WHITE DOG 195
THE ELEPHANT AND THE APE 195
THE CROW AND THE DAWN 195
THE LION AND THE GOAT 195
THE SUNLING 196
THE MUSHROOM AND THE GOOSE 196
THE FABLES OF PILPAY THE HINDU 196
THE FOX AND THE HEN 196
THE THREE FISHES 196
THE FALCON AND THE HEN 197
THE KING WHO GREW KIND 197
#MODERN FABLES#
THE HORSES' COUNCIL 197
Adapted from John Gay
THE OAK AND THE REED 198
Adapted from the French of La Fontaine
THE ADVANTAGE OF KNOWLEDGE 198
Adapted from the French of La Fontaine
THE TORRENT AND THE RIVER 198
Adapted from the French of La Fontaine
THE TOMTIT AND THE BEAR 199
By the Brothers Grimm
WHY JIMMY SKUNK WEARS STRIPES 200
By Thornton W. Burgess
HOW CATS CAME TO PURR 202
By John Bennett
#STORIES FROM SCANDINAVIA#
THE GREEDY CAT 207
GUDBRAND ON THE HILLSIDE 210
PORK AND HONEY 212
HOW REYNARD OUTWITTED BRUIN 212
THE COCK AND THE CRESTED HEN 213
THE OLD WOMAN AND THE TRAMP 213
THE OLD WOMAN AND THE FISH 216
THE LAD AND THE FOX 217
ADVENTURES OF ASHPOT 217
NORWEGIAN BIRD-LEGENDS 219
THE UGLY DUCKLING 222
By Hans Christian Andersen
THE WILD SWANS 227
By Hans Christian Andersen
TAPER TOM 235
THE BOY WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WIND 236
THE WONDERFUL IRON POT 238
THE SHEEP AND PIG WHO SET UP HOUSEKEEPING 239
DOLL-IN-THE-GRASS 241
BOOTS AND HIS BROTHERS 242
VIGGO AND BEATE 244
Translated by Mrs. Gudrun Thorne-Thompson
#STORIES FROM IRELAND#
THE FOUR WHITE SWANS 251
THE MISHAPS OF HANDY ANDY 258
THE GREEDY SHEPHERD 263
THE COBBLERS AND THE CUCKOO 264
THE MERRY COBBLER AND HIS COAT 268
THE STORY OF CHILD CHARITY 270
By Frances Browne
THE SELFISH GIANT 272
By Oscar Wilde
#STORIES FROM GREAT BRITAIN#
THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS, OR THE GRATEFUL
RAVEN AND THE PRINCE 275
JACK AND THE BEANSTALK 277
Retold by Mary Lena Wilson
TOM THUMB 280
Retold by Laura Clarke
WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT 283
WILD ROBIN 287
Retold by Sophie May
THE STORY OF MERLIN 291
#JAPANESE AND OTHER ORIENTAL TALES#
THE CUB'S TRIUMPH 293
CHIN-CHIN KOBAKAMA 294
THE WONDERFUL MALLET 296
THE SELFISH SPARROW AND THE HOUSELESS CROWS 298
THE STORY OF ZIRAC 298
MY LORD BAG OF RICE 302
THE LITTLE HARE OF OKI 305
Retold by B. M. Burrell
THE LITTLE BROTHER OF LOO-LEE LOO 309
By Margaret Johnson
THE CURIOUS CASE OF AH-TOP 314
THE JACKAL AND THE CAMEL 316
HASHNU
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WHERE YOUR TREASURE IS
Being the Personal Narrative of Ross Sidney, Diver
By Holman Day
New York And London: Harper Brothers
1917
[Illustration: 0001]
[Illustration: 0010]
[Illustration: 0011]
WHERE YOUR TREASURE IS
I--BEING THE STRUGGLE OP AN AMATEUR AUTHOR TO GET A FAIR START
SPEAKING of money--and it’s a mighty popular topic--the investment of
the first twenty-five cents I ever earned, all at a crack, ought to
have directed my feet, my thoughts, and my future along the straight and
narrow way. Ten minutes after I had galloped gleefully home with that
quarter-dollar from Judge Kingsley’s hay-field, my good mother led me
down to Old Maid Branscombe’s little book-store and obliged me to buy a
catechism.
I earned that money by hauling a drag-rake for a whole day around behind
a hay-cart, barefoot and kicking against the vicious stubbles of the
shaven field. I honestly felt that I did not deserve the extra penance
of the catechism. However, that first day’s work gave me my earliest
respect for money--earned money. And I also remember that Judge
Kingsley, when he paid me, sniffed and said I hadn’t done enough to earn
twenty-five cents.
I hated to walk up to him and ask for my pay, because Celene Kingsley
was within hearing; she had come down to the field to fetch him home in
her pony-chaise. That’s right! You’ve guessed it! I’ll waste no words.
It was only another of the old familiar cases. Barefooted, folks poor,
keeping my face toward her, as a sunflower fronts the sun (though the
sunflower has other reasons than hiding patches), I was in the shamed,
secret, hopeless, heartaching agonies of a fifteen-year-old passion. Of
course, I don’t mean that I had loved her for all that time--I’m giving
my age and hers.
Yes, I hated to walk up. And the judge gave me the quarter only because
he did not have any smaller change.
And really, for the times, it was considerable of a coin for a single
juvenile job.
The services of youngsters in those days in Levant were paid for on a
narrower scale--ten cents for lawns and a nickel for shoveling snow, and
so on. And tin-peddlers were mighty stingy in their dickerings for old
rubbers and junk. To get rags one had to steal ’em--our folks made
rugs and guarded old remnants carefully.
So much for my first financial adventure of real moment--for the biggest
coin I had ever clutched; and right now I lay down my pen for a moment
and spread out two human paws which have juggled three million dollars’
worth of gold ingots as carelessly as one scruffles jackstraws. That was
maverick treasure. But there’s a big difference between earned money and
maverick money. If you don’t know what maverick means I’ll save you the
trouble of looking the word up in the dictionary. Once on a time, in
Texas, old Sam Maverick wouldn’t brand his cattle. Therefore, a maverick
was a cow or steer unbranded. And to-day it means any kind of property
at large which a bold man or a dishonest man may grab if he can beat
other thieves to it.
I had an early taste of maverick money, and the taste was so sweet that
I never have lost my hankering for more.
In the fall of that “year of the catechism” the line gale blew down
the chimney which had stood after the old Pratt house was burned. I was
there before the dust settled, for all the boys knew that there were
wrought-iron clamps high up in the bricks. But I left the clamps to
the next comers and picked up a dented tin box, rusty and dusty and
soot-blackened; I shook it; it rattled and I ran away into the woods.
When I had knocked the box open and looked in and spied coins I had the
heart-thrilling conviction that money worries were over for me in this
life. My first thought was that I would marry Celene Kingsley and settle
down and live happy ever after. If there had been in the box what I
thought at first there was, I could wipe my pen and close my story.
I dove both hands into the box and brought them up brimming--coins
scattering and clattering back over my trembling fingers. They were big
coins--and I had read much about the days of the bold pirates.
“Pieces of eight!” I whispered.
But they were not. When I had
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BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, PERE ***
Produced by David Widger.
*CELEBRATED CRIMES, COMPLETE*
_By_
*Alexandre Dumas, Pere*
_In Eight Volumes_
1910
CONTENTS
CONTENTS
NOTE:
INTRODUCTION
*THE BORGIAS*
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
EPILOGUE
*THE CENCI--1598*
*MASSACRES OF THE SOUTH--1551-1815*
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
*MARY STUART--1587*
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
*KARL-LUDWIG SAND--1819*
*URBAIN GRANDIER--1634*
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
*NISIDA--1825*
*DERUES*
*LA CONSTANTIN--1660*
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
*JOAN OF NAPLES--1343-1382*
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
*THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK [An Essay]*
*MARTIN GUERRE*
*ALI PACHA*
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
*THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN--1639*
*MURAT--1815*
I--TOULON
II--CORSICA
III--PIZZO
*THE MARQUISE DE BRINVILLIERS*
*VANINKA*
*THE MARQUISE DE GANGES--1657*
NOTE:
Dumas's 'Celebrated Crimes' was not written for children. The novelist
has spared no language--has minced no words--to describe the violent
scenes of a violent time.
"In some instances facts appear distorted out of their true perspective,
and in others the author makes unwarranted charges. It is not within our
province to edit the historical side of Dumas, any more than it would be
to correct the obvious errors in Dickens's Child's History of England.
The careful, mature reader, for whom the books are intended, will
recognize, and allow for, this fact.
INTRODUCTION
The contents of these volumes of 'Celebrated Crimes', as well as the
motives which led to their inception, are unique. They are a series of
stories based upon historical records, from the pen of Alexandre Dumas,
pere, when he was not "the elder," nor yet the author of D'Artagnan or
Monte Cristo, but was a rising young dramatist and a lion in the
literary set and world of fashion.
Dumas, in fact, wrote his 'Crimes Celebres' just prior to launching upon
his wonderful series of historical novels, and they may therefore be
considered as source books, whence he was to draw so much of that
far-reaching and intimate knowledge of inner history which has
perennially astonished his readers. The Crimes were published in Paris,
in 1839-40, in eight volumes, comprising eighteen titles--all of which
now appear in the present carefully translated text. The success of the
original work was instantaneous. Dumas laughingly said that he thought
he had exhausted the subject of famous crimes, until the work was off
the press, when he immediately became deluged with letters from every
province in France, supplying him with material upon other deeds of
violence! The subjects which he has chosen, however
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THEODORE ROOSEVELT
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT
By Theodore Roosevelt
PREPARER'S NOTE
This Etext was prepared from a 1920 edition,
published by Charles Scribner's Sons.
The book was first published in 1913.
CONTENTS
Forward
Boyhood and Youth
The Vigor of Life
Practical Politics
In Cowboy Land
Applied Idealism
The New York Police
The War of America the Unready
The New York Governorship
Outdoors and Indoors
The Presidency; Making an Old Party Progressive
The Natural Resources of the Nation
The Big Stick and the Square Deal
Social and Industrial Justice
The Monroe Doctrine and the Panama Canal
The Peace of Righteousness
FOREWORD
Naturally, there are chapters of my autobiography which cannot now be
written.
It seems to me that, for the nation as for the individual, what is most
important is to insist on the vital need of combining certain sets
of qualities, which separately are common enough, and, alas, useless
enough. Practical efficiency is common, and lofty idealism not uncommon;
it is the combination which is necessary, and the combination is rare.
Love of peace is common among weak, short-sighted, timid, and lazy
persons; and on the other hand courage is found among many men of evil
temper and bad character. Neither quality shall by itself avail. Justice
among the nations of mankind, and the uplifting of humanity, can be
brought about only by those strong and daring men who with wisdom love
peace, but who love righteousness more than peace. Facing the immense
complexity of modern social and industrial conditions, there is need to
use freely and unhesitatingly the collective power of all of us; and
yet no exercise of collective power will ever avail if the average
individual does not keep his or her sense of personal duty, initiative,
and responsibility. There is need to develop all the virtues that have
the state for their sphere of action; but these virtues are as dust in a
windy street unless back of them lie the strong and tender virtues of
a family life based on the love of the one man for the one woman and on
their joyous and fearless acceptance of their common obligation to the
children that are theirs. There must be the keenest sense of duty, and
with it must go the joy of living; there must be shame at the thought of
shirking the hard work of the world, and at the same time delight in
the many-sided beauty of life. With soul of flame and temper of steel we
must act as our coolest judgment bids us. We must exercise the largest
charity towards the wrong-doer that is compatible with relentless war
against the wrong-doing. We must be just to others, generous to others,
and yet we must realize that it is a shameful and a wicked thing not to
withstand oppression with high heart and ready hand. With gentleness and
tenderness there must go dauntless bravery and grim acceptance of labor
and hardship and peril. All for each, and each for all, is a good motto;
but only on condition that each works with might and main to so maintain
himself as not to be a burden to others.
We of the great modern democracies must strive unceasingly to make our
several countries lands in which a poor man who works hard can
live comfortably and honestly, and in which a rich man cannot live
dishonestly nor in slothful avoidance of duty; and yet we must judge
rich man and poor man alike by a standard which rests on conduct and not
on caste, and we must frown with the same stern severity on the mean and
vicious envy which hates and would plunder a man because he is well off
and on the brutal and selfish arrogance which looks down on and exploits
the man with whom life has gone hard.
THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
SAGAMORE HILL, October 1, 1913.
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
CHAPTER I
BOYHOOD AND YOUTH
My grandfather on my father's side was of almost purely Dutch blood.
When he was young he still spoke some Dutch, and Dutch was last used
in the services of the Dutch Reformed Church in New York while he was a
small boy.
About 1644 his ancestor Klaes Martensen van Roosevelt came to New
Amsterdam as a "settler"--the euphemistic name for an immigrant who
came over in the steerage of a sailing ship in the seventeenth century
instead of the steerage of a steamer in the nineteenth century. From
that time for the next seven generations from father to son every one of
us was born on Manhattan Island.
My father's paternal ancestors were of Holland stock; except that there
was one named Waldron, a wheelwright, who was one of the Pilgrims who
remained in Holland when the others came over to found Massachusetts,
and who then accompanied the Dutch adventurers to New Amsterdam.
My father's mother was a Pennsylvanian. Her forebears had come to
Pennsylvania with William Penn, some in the same ship with him; they
were of the usual type of the immigration of that particular place and
time. They included Welsh and English Quakers, an Irishman,--with a
Celtic name, and apparently
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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)
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
—Has been mantained the ancient style, therefore just the more evident
printing errors have been corrected. Punctuation has not been corrected
also if inconsistent with modern English.
—Italics and smallcaps have been manteined as far as possible, since as
in old books (this one was printed in 1621) sometimes text style
changes when a word is hyphenated.
HIS
MAIESTIES
DECLARATION,
Touching his proceedings in the
_late Assemblie and Conuention_
of Parliament.
[Illustration: DIEV ET MON DROIT.]
_Imprinted at London by_ BONHAM
NORTON and IOHN BILL,
Printers to the Kings most Excellent
MAIESTIE. 1621.
[Illustration]
HIS
MAIESTIES
Declaration, touching his proceedings
in the late Assembly and
_Conuention of Parliament_.
Hauing of late, vpon mature deliberation, with the aduice and vniforme
consent of Our whole Priuie Councell, determined to dissolue the
Assembly and Conuention of Parliament, lately called together by Our
Regall power and Authoritie, Wee were pleased by Our Proclamation,
giuen at Our Palace of _Westminster_ the sixt day of this instant
_Ianuary_, to declare, not onely Our pleasure and resolution therein,
but also to expresse some especiall passages and proceedings, moouing
vs to that resolution: Wherein, albeit hauing so many yeeres swayed
the swords and scepters of three renowned kingdomes, Wee cannot but
discerne (as much as any Prince liuing) what apperteineth to the height
of a powerfull Monarch: yet, that all men might discerne, that Wee,
like Gods true Viceregent, delight not so much in the greatnesse of
Our place, as in the goodnesse & benignitie of our gouernment, We were
content in that one Act to descend many degrees beneath Our Selfe:
First, by communicating to all Our people the reasons of a resolution
of State, which Princes vse to reserue, _inter arcana Imperij_, to
themselues and their Priuie Councell: Secondly, by mollifying and
mixing the peremptorie and binding qualitie of a Proclamation, with
the indulgence of a milde and fatherly instruction: And lastly,
leading them, and opening to them that forbidden Arke of Our absolute
and indisputable Prerogatiue, concerning the calling, continuing,
and dissoluing of Parliaments: which, though it were more then
superabundant to make Our Subiects know the realitie of Our sincere
intentions; yet Wee not satisfied therewith, but finding the bounds of
a Proclamation too straight to conteine and expresse the boundlesse
affection that Wee beare to Our good and louing people, are pleased
hereby to inlarge Our Selfe, (as Wee promised in Our said Proclamation)
by a more full and plaine expression of those Letters and Messages that
passed from Vs to the Commons in Parliament, which by reason of the
length of them, could not bee related at large, but briefly pointed
at in Our said Proclamation. For, as in generall the great actions of
Kings are done as vpon a stage, obuious to the publike gazing of euery
man; so are Wee most willing, that the trueth of this particular,
concerning Our owne honour, and the satisfaction of Our Subjects,
should bee represented vnto all men without vaile or couering, being
assured that the most plainnesse and freedome will most aduantage Vs,
hauing in this, and all Our Actions euer affected such sinceritie and
vprightnes of heart, as were Wee all transparent, and that men might
readily passe to Our inward thoughts, they should there perceiue the
selfe–same affections which Wee haue euer professed in Our outward
words and Actions.
Hauing anticipated the time of reassembling Our Parliament to the
twentieth day of _Nouember_ last, (which Wee formerly appointed to
haue met vpon the eighth of _February_ next,) vpon the confidence
that their noble and generous declaration at their parting the fourth
of _Iune_ put vs in, of their free and liberall assistance to the
recouery of Our Childrens ancient inheritance, and hauing declared to
them Our resolution of taking vpon Vs the defence of Our childrens
patrimonie by way of Armes, the Commons very heartily and dutifully
fell immediatly after their reassembling, to treat of a necessary
supplie, and concluded, for the present, to grant a Subsidie to be paid
in _February_ next, (the last paiment of the latter Subsidie granted
by them being not to come in vntill _May_ following) whereby Wee were
well and cleerly satisfied of the good intenti[=o] of the Commons in
generall, by whose vniforme vote & assent that Subsidy was resolued
on, not without intimation of a more ample supplie to be yeelded in
conuenient time.
But before this their resolution was reduced into a formall Acte or
Bill, some discontented persons that were the cause of all that euill
which succeeded, endeauouring to clog the good will of the Commons with
their owne vnreasonable ends, fell to dispute in the House of Our high
Prerogatiues, namely of the match of Our dearest sonne the Prince, of
the making warre with forreigne Princes Our Allies, betweene whom and
Vs there was a firme peace religiously made and obserued hitherunto:
All which they couered with the cloake of Religion, and with the
faire pretence of a duetifull Petition to bee preferred to Vs. Wee
vnderstanding right well, that those points were not disputable in
Parliament, without Our owne Royall direction, being of Our highest
Prerogatiues, the very Characters of Souereignty; & thinking, that
when euery Subiect by nature, and the Lawes of the Realme, had the
power of matching their children according to their owne best liking,
none should denie Vs the like; especially Wee hauing at the beginning
of the Parliament declared Our purpose concerning the matching of Our
Sonne, the Prince, were fully perswaded, that those specious outsides
of Religion and humble petitioning, were added onely to gaine passage
vnto those things, which being propounded in their true colours, must
needs haue appeared vniust and vnreasonable, as matters wherewith
neuer any Parliament had presumed to meddle before, except they had
bene thereunto required by their King; nay, not befitting Our Priuie
Councell to meddle with, without Our speciall command and allowance;
since the very consulting vpon such matters (though in neuer so priuate
a maner) being discouered abroad, might at some time produce as ill
effects, as if they were publikely resolued vpon. For as concerning the
point of Religion, We aswell in the beginning of the Parliament, by a
publike and open Declaration made to both Houses in the higher House of
Parliament, as also shortly after, by a gracious answere vnto a former
Petition of theirs, expressed to the full Our immutable resolution to
maintaine true Religion, besides the vntainted practise of Our whole
life in that point. And howsoeuer an humble Petition beare a faire shew
of respect; yet if vnder colour of concluding on a Petition, a way
should bee opened to treat in Parliament of the mysteries of State,
without Our Royall allowance, it were a great and vnusuall breach vpon
the Royall power: Besides, who knoweth not that the preferring of a
Petition, includes an expectation to haue it graunted? and therefore to
nippe this springing euill in the beginning, Wee directed Our Letters
to the Speaker of that House, the tenour of which Letters followeth.
Master Speaker, _Wee haue heard by diuers reports to Our great griefe,
That the farre distance of Our Person at this time from Our high
Court of Parliament, caused by Our want of health, hath emboldened
some fiery and popular spirits in Our House of Commons, to debate and
argue publikely, in matters farre beyond their reach or capacitie,
and so tending to Our high dishonour, and to the trenching vpon Our
Prerogatiue Royall. You shall therefore acquaint that House with Our
Pleasure, That none therein shall henceforth presume to meddle with any
thing concerning Our gouernment, or mysteries of State; namely, not
to speake of Our dearest Sonnes match with the Daughter of_ Spaine,
_nor to touch the Honour of that King, or any other Our friends or
Confederates: And also not to meddle with any mens particulars, which
haue their due motion in Our ordinarie Courts of Justice. And whereas
We heare that they haue sent a message to_ S^[ir] Edwin Sandys, _to
know the reasons of his late restraint, you shall in Our name resolue
them, That it was not for any misdemeanour of his in Parliament: But
to put them out of doubt of any question of that nature that may arise
among them hereafter, you shall resolue them in Our name, That We
thinke our Selfe very free and able to punish any mans misdemeanours
in Parliament, as well during their sitting, as after; which We
meane not to spare hereafter, vpon any occasion of any mans insolent
behauiour there, that shall be ministred vnto Us. And if they haue
already touched any of these points which Wee haue here forbidden, in
any Petition of theirs which is to be sent vnto Vs, it is Our pleasure
that you shall tell them, That except they reforme it before it come
to Our hands, Wee will not deigne the hearing nor answering of it. And
whereas Wee heare that they are desirous, that We should make this a
Seßion of Parliament before Christmas, You may tell them, It shall be
in their default if they want it: For if they will make ready betweene
this and that time, some such Lawes as shall be really good for the
Common–wealth, Wee will very willingly giue Our Royall assent vnto
them: And so it shall thereby appeare, That if good Lawes be not made
at this time for the weale of the people, the blame shall onely and
most iustly lie vpon such turbulent spirits, as shall preferre their
particular ends to the weale of this Kingdome and Common–wealth. And so
We bid you farewell. Giuen at Our Court at Newmarket, the third day of
December, 1621._
To Our trustie and welbeloued,
_The Speaker of Our Commons_
House of Parliament.
Which Letters being publikely read in the House, they were so farre
either from reforming their intended Petition, which conteined those
points by Vs forbidden, or yet from going on cheerefully in propounding
of good Lawes, for which they were called, and to which purpose Wee
granted them in the end of Our said Letter to the Speaker, to make it
a Session before Christmas, whereof Wee vnderstood them to bee very
desirous, that they resolued to send the same vnto vs together with
another Petition iustifying the former, notwithstanding Our forbidding
them in Our said Letter to send the former Petition vnto Vs, as also
sate euer silent thereafter, till they were dissolued, as shall
hereafter more largely be expressed.
Those petitions being sent from the Commons by a select number of that
House vnto Vs then being at _Newmarket_ for Our health, the House
forbare to proceed in any businesse of importance, purposing, as
was apparently discerned, and as the euent prooued, so to continue
vntill the returne of their Messengers with Our Answere, which wee
vnderstanding, and being desirous to haue the time better husbanded, as
was fit (the shortnesse thereof, by reason of the approach of Christmas
being respected) required Our Secretarie to deliuer a Message vnto them
for this purpose, which he did, first by word of mouth, and after by
appointment of the House set it downe in writing in these words, viz.
_His Majestie, remembring that this House was desirous to haue a Seßion
betweene this and Christmasse, whereupon it pleased Him to signifie
vnto vs, that wee should haue contentment therein, and that there
should be a Seßion, if wee our selues were not in fault, taking now
notice that the House forbeares to proceede with any Billes vntill
the returne of the Messengers, lately sent vnto his Majestie, hath
enioyned mee to commaund the House in his Name not to lose time in
their proceeding for preparing of good Lawes in the meane while, in
consideration of this so neere approach of Christmaße; And that his
Majestie hopes they will not take vpon them to make a Recesse in
effect, though not in shew without his warrant._
Bvt this Message being deliuered, was so farre from working that good
effect, which Wee did most iustly expect, that contrariwise some
captious and curious heads tooke exception thereat, as tending to the
breach of their Priuiledges, by commanding them to proceede with Bills,
though We thereby, neither designed any particular Billes for them to
proceed with, nor yet forbade any other Parliamentary proceedings; And
with those, and such other vndutifull straines of wit, they spunne out
the time vntill the returne of their Messengers, who being come to
_Newmarket_, presented both the Petitions vnto vs, who well knowing
before hand the effect of the former, and then obseruing the contents
of the latter, and finding, that from both did reflect vpon Our Person
and gouernment sundry causelesse aspersions, and that thereby Our
Royall Prerogatiues were inuaded and assailed, after an admonition to
beware of medling therewith, Wee returned vnto them Our Answere in
writing, as followeth.
HIS MAJESTIES ANSWERE
to the Apologetike
Petition of the House of
COMMONS,
_Presented to his Majesty by a dozen_
of the Members of that House,
_by their directions_.
_We must heere begin in the same fashion that We would haue done if
your first Petition had come to Our hands before We had made stay
thereof, which is to repeat the first words of the late_ Queene _of
famous memory, vsed by her in Answer to an insolent proposition, made
by a_ Polonian _Ambassadour vnto her, That is_, Legatum expectabamus,
Heraldum accepimus. _For We had great reason to expect that the first
Meßage from your House should haue beene a Message of thankesgiuing
for Our continued gracious behauior towards Our people since your
last Recesse, not onely by Our Proclamation of grace, wherein were
conteined sixe or seuen and thirty Articles, all of seuerall points
of grace to the people; but also by the labour We tooke for the
satisfaction of both Houses in those three Articles recommended vnto
Vs in both their names by the right Reuerend Father in God, the
Archbishop of_ Canterbury, _And likewise for the good gouernement of_
Ireland _We are now in hand with at your request. But not onely haue
Wee heard no newes of all this, but contrary great complaints of the
danger of Religion within this Kingdome tacitely implying Our ill
gouernment in this point. And We leaue to you to iudge, whether it
be your duties that are the Representatiue body of Our people, so to
distast them with Our gouernment, whereas by the contrary it is your
duty with all your endeauours to kindle more and more a dutifull and
thankefull loue in the peoples hearts towards Vs for Our iust and
gracious gouernment. Now, whereas in the very beginning of this your
Apologie, you taxe Vs in faire termes of trusting vncertaine reports,
and partiall informations concerning your proceedings, We wish you to
remember, that We are an old and experienced King, needing no such
leßons, being in Our conscience freest of any King aliue from hearing
or trusting idle reports, which so many of your House as are neerest Vs
can beare witnesse vnto you, if you would giue as good eare to them,
as you doe to some Tribunitiall Orators amongst you. And for proofe
in this particular, Wee haue made your owne Meßengers conferre your
other Petition, sent by you with the copie thereof, which was sent Vs
before, betweene which there is no difference at all, but that since
Our receiuing the first Copy you added a conclusion vnto it, which
could not come to Our hands till it was done by you, and your Meßengers
sent, which was all at one time. And if that We had had no Copie of
it before hand, We must
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Produced by Charles Bowen from by page scans provided Google Books
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
https://books.google.com/books?id=prZLAQAAMAAJ
(The University of Chicago Library)
BURGO'S ROMANCE
BY
T. W. SPEIGHT
AUTHOR OF "BACK TO LIFE," "HOODWINKED," ETC.
_AUTHORIZED EDITION_
--------------------
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
1894
AUTHORIZED EDITION
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. YOUNG MAN ABOUT TOWN.
II. CAPTAIN CUSDEN'S REPORT.
III. CUT ADRIFT.
IV. "OLD GARDEN."
V. A HUMBLE FRIEND.
VI. A LAST INTERVIEW.
VII. BURGO IN A NEW CHARACTER.
VIII. UNCLE AND NEPHEW.
IX. BURGO'S VIGIL.
X. A SLEEP AND AN AWAKING.
XI. A CLUE.
XII. FOUND.
XIII. HELPLESS.
XIV. IN DURANCE VILE.
XV. DACIA ROYLANCE.
XVI. DACIA EXPLAINS.
XVII. A DOOR BETWEEN.
XVIII. IN WHICH THE UNEXPECTED COMES TO PASS.
XIX. THE CAPTAIN OF THE "NAIAD."
XX. RESCUED.
XXI. A SURPRISE FOR BURGO.
XXII. A MYSTERY SOLVED.
BURGO'S ROMANCE
CHAPTER I.
A YOUNG MAN ABOUT TOWN.
A dark handsome face bent close to a fair and
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Produced by MFR, Adrian Mastronardi, The Philatelic Digital
Library Project at http://www.tpdlp.net and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber’s Note: Punctuation and typographical errors have been
corrected without note. A list of the more substantial amendments made to
the text appears at the end.
[Illustration: “The primary step in connection with second-class mail
is taken in the forests of the American continent.”--_Senator J. P.
Dolliver._]
Postal Riders and Raiders
_Are we fools? If we are not fools, why then continue to
act foolishly, thus inviting railroad, express company
and postoffice officials to treat
us as if we were fools?_
By The Man On The Ladder
(W. H. GANTZ)
Issued By The Independent Postal League
CHICAGO, U. S. A.
1912
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY THE AUTHOR
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Price $1.50, Prepaid to Any Address.
Independent Postal League,
No. 5037 Indiana Ave.,
Chicago
FOREWORD TO THE READER.
The mud-sills of this book are hewn from the presupposition that the
person who reads it has not only the essentially necessary equipment to
do his own thinking, but also a more or less practiced habit of doing it.
It is upon such foundation the superstructure of this volume was built.
It is written in the hope of promoting, or provoking, thought on certain
subjects, along certain lines--not to create or school thinkers. So, if
the reader lacks the necessary cranial furnishing to do his own thinking,
or, if having that, he has a cultivated habit of letting other people do
his hard thinking and an ingrown desire to let them continue doing so,
such reader may as well stop at this period. In fact, he would better
do so. The man who has his thinking done by proxy is possibly as happy
and comfortable on a siding as he would be anywhere--as he is capable
of being. I have no desire to disturb his state or condition of static
felicity. Besides, such a man might “run wild” or otherwise interfere
with the traffic if switched onto the main line.
Emerson has somewheres said, “Beware when God turns a thinker loose in
the world.” Of course Emerson cautioned about constructive and fighting
thinkers, not thinkers who think they know because somebody told them so,
or who think they have thought till they know all about some unknowable
thing--the ratio of the diameter to the circumference of the circle, how
to construct two hills without a valley between, to build a bunghole
bigger than the barrel, and the like.
There are thinkers and thinkers. Emerson had the distinction between
them clearly in mind no doubt when he wrote that quoted warning. So,
also, has the thinking reader. It is for him this volume is planned;
to him its arguments and statements of fact are intended to appeal.
Its chapters have been hurriedly written--some of them written under
conditions of physical distress. The attempts at humor may be attempts
only; the irony may be misplaced or misapplied; the spade-is-a-spade
style may be blunt, harsh or even coarse to the point of offensiveness.
Still, if its reading provokes or otherwise induces thought, the purpose
of its writing, at least in some degree, will have been attained. It is
not asked that the reader agree with the conclusions of the text. If he
read the facts stated and thinks--_thinks for himself_--he will reach
right conclusions. The facts are of easy comprehension. It requires no
superior academic knowledge nor experience of years to understand them
and their significance--their lesson.
Just read and think. Do not let any “official” noise nor breakfast-food
rhetoric so syncopate and segregate your thought as to derail it from
the main line of facts. Lofty, persuasive eloquence is often but the
attractive drapery of planned falsehood, and the beautifully rounded
period is often but a “steer” for an ulterior motive--a “tout” for a
marked-card game. Do not be a “come-on” for any verbal psychic work
or worker. Just stubbornly persist in doing your own thinking, ever
remembering that in this vale of tears, “Plain hoss sense’ll pull you
through when ther’s nothin’ else’ll do.”
As a thinker, you will now have lots of company, and they are still
coming in droves. Respectable company, too. Mr. Roosevelt suddenly
_arrived_ a few days since at Columbus, Ohio. Then there is Mr. Carnegie
and Judge Gary. The senior Mr. Rockefeller, also, has announced, through
a representative, that he is on the way. These latter, of course, have
been thinkers for many years--thinkers on personal service lines chiefly,
it has been numerously asserted. Now, however, if press accounts are
true,
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Produced by David Widger. HTML version by Al Haines.
MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
A VIRTUOSO'S COLLECTION
The other day, having a leisure hour at my disposal, I stepped into
a new museum, to which my notice was casually drawn by a small and
unobtrusive sign: "TO BE SEEN HERE, A VIRTUOSO'S COLLECTION." Such
was the simple yet not altogether unpromising announcement that
turned my steps aside for a little while from the sunny sidewalk of
our principal thoroughfare. Mounting a sombre staircase, I pushed
open a door at its summit, and found myself in the presence of a
person, who mentioned the moderate sum that would entitle me to
admittance.
"Three shillings, Massachusetts tenor," said he. "No, I mean half a
dollar, as you reckon in these days."
While searching my pocket for the coin I glanced at the doorkeeper,
the marked character and individuality of whose aspect encouraged me
to expect something not quite in the ordinary way. He wore an
old-fashioned great-coat, much faded, within which his meagre person
was so completely enveloped that the rest of his attire was
undistinguishable. But his visage was remarkably wind-flushed,
sunburnt, and weather-worn, and had a most, unquiet, nervous, and
apprehensive expression. It seemed as if this man had some
all-important object in view, some point of deepest interest to be
decided, some momentous question to ask, might he but hope for a
reply. As it was evident, however, that I could have nothing to do
with his private affairs, I passed through an open doorway,
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Transcribed from the 1895 Methuen & Co. edition (_Comedies of William
Congreve_, _Volume_ 2) by David Price, email [email protected]
THE WAY OF THE WORLD
A COMEDY
_Audire est operæ pretium_, _procedere recte_
_Qui mæchis non vultis_.—HOR. _Sat._ i. 2, 37.
—_Metuat doti deprensa_.—_Ibid_.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
RALPH, EARL OF MOUNTAGUE, ETC.
MY LORD,—Whether the world will arraign me of vanity or not, that I have
presumed to dedicate this comedy to your lordship, I am yet in doubt;
though, it may be, it is some degree of vanity even to doubt of it. One
who has at any time had the honour of your lordship’s conversation,
cannot be supposed to think very meanly of that which he would prefer to
your perusal. Yet it were to incur the imputation of too much
sufficiency to pretend to such a merit as might abide the test of your
lordship’s censure.
Whatever value may be wanting to this play while yet it is mine, will be
sufficiently made up to it when it is once become your lordship’s; and it
is my security, that I cannot have overrated it more by my dedication
than your lordship will dignify it by your patronage.
That it succeeded on the stage was almost beyond my expectation; for but
little of it was prepared for that general taste which seems now to be
predominant in the palates of our audience.
Those characters which are meant to be ridiculed in most of our comedies
are of fools so gross, that in my humble opinion they should rather
disturb than divert the well-natured and reflecting part of an audience;
they are rather objects of charity than contempt, and instead of moving
our mirth, they ought very often to excite our compassion.
This reflection moved me to design some characters which should appear
ridiculous not so much through a natural folly (which is incorrigible,
and therefore not proper for the stage) as through an affected wit: a wit
which, at the same time that it is affected, is also false. As there is
some difficulty in the formation of a character of this nature, so there
is some hazard which attends the progress of its success upon the stage:
for many come to a play so overcharged with criticism, that they very
often let fly their censure, when through their rashness they have
mistaken their aim. This I had occasion lately to observe: for this play
had been acted two or three days before some of these hasty judges could
find the leisure to distinguish betwixt the character of a Witwoud and a
Truewit.
I must beg your lordship’s pardon for this digression from the true
course of this epistle; but that it may not seem altogether impertinent,
I beg that I may plead the occasion of it, in part of that excuse of
which I stand in need, for recommending this comedy to your protection.
It is only by the countenance of your lordship, and the _few_ so
qualified, that such who write with care and pains can hope to be
distinguished: for the prostituted name of poet promiscuously levels all
that bear it.
Terence, the most correct writer in the world, had a Scipio and a Lelius,
if not to assist him, at least to support him in his reputation. And
notwithstanding his extraordinary merit, it may be their countenance was
not more than necessary.
The purity of his style, the delicacy of his turns, and the justness of
his characters, were all of them beauties which the greater part of his
audience were incapable of tasting. Some of the coarsest strokes of
Plautus, so severely censured by Horace, were more likely to affect the
multitude; such, who come with expectation to laugh at the last act of a
play, and are better entertained with two or three unseasonable jests
than with the artful solution of the fable.
As Terence excelled in his performances, so had he great advantages to
encourage his undertakings, for he built most on the foundations of
Menander: his plots were generally modelled, and his characters ready
drawn to his hand. He copied Menander; and Menander had no less light in
the formation of his characters from the observations of Theophrastus, of
whom he was a disciple; and Theophrastus, it is known, was not only the
disciple, but the immediate successor of Aristotle, the
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Produced by Donald Lainson and D. A. Alexander
CAP'N WARREN'S WARDS
By Joseph C. Lincoln
Author of "The Depot Master," "The Woman Haters,"
"The Postmaster," "Cap'n Erie,"
"Mr. Pratt," etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY EDMUND FREDERICK
A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT 1911, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
_Published October, 1911_
Printed in the United States of America
[Illustration: "Captain Warren had risen from his chair and was facing
her." [Page 48]]
CAP'N WARREN'S WARDS
CHAPTER I
"Ostable!" screamed the brakeman, opening the car door and yelling his
loudest, so as to be heard above the rattle of the train and the shriek
of the wind; "Ostable!"
The brakeman's cap was soaked through, his hair was plastered down on
his forehead, and, in the yellow light from the car lamps, his wet nose
glistened as if varnished. Over his shoulders the shiny ropes of rain
whipped and lashed across the space between the cars. The windows
streamed as each succeeding gust flung its miniature freshet against
them.
The passengers in the car--there were but four of them--did not seem
greatly interested in the brakeman's announcement. The red-faced person
in the seat nearest the rear slept soundly, as he had done for the
last hour and a half. He had boarded the train at Brockton, and, after
requesting the conductor not to "lemme me git by Bayport, Bill," at
first favored his fellow travelers with a song and then sank into
slumber.
The two elderly men sitting together on the right-hand side of the car
droned on in their apparently endless Jeremiad concerning the low price
of cranberries, the scarcity of scallops on the flats, the reasons why
the fish weirs were a failure nowadays, and similar cheerful topics. And
in his seat on the left, Mr. Atwood Graves, junior partner in the New
York firm of Sylvester, Kuhn and Graves, lawyers, stirred uneasily on
the lumpy plush cushion, looked at his watch, then at the time-table in
his hand, noted that the train was now seventy-two minutes late, and
for at least the fifteenth time mentally cursed the railway company, the
whole of Cape Cod from Sandwich to Provincetown, and the fates which had
brought him there.
The train slowed down, in a jerky, hiccoughy sort of way, and crept
on till the car in which Mr. Graves was seated was abreast the lighted
windows of a small station, where it stopped. Peering through the
water-streaked pane at the end of his seat, the lawyer saw dim
silhouettes of uncertain outline moving about. They moved with provoking
slowness. He felt that it would be joy unspeakable to rush out there and
thump them into animation. The fact that the stately Atwood Graves even
thought of such an undignified proceeding is sufficient indication of
his frame of mind.
Then, behind the door which the brakeman, after announcing the station,
had closed again, sounded a big laugh. The heartiness of it grated on
Mr. Graves's nerves. What idiot could laugh on such a night as this
aboard a train over an hour late?
The laugh was repeated. Then the door was flung briskly open, and a
man entered the car. He was a big man, broad-shouldered, inclined to
stoutness, wearing a cloth cap with a visor, and a heavy ulster, the
collar of which was turned up. Through the gap between the open ends of
the collar bristled a short, grayish beard. The face above the beard and
below the visor was sunburned, with little wrinkles about the eyes and
curving lines from the nostrils to the corners of the mouth. The upper
lip was shaved, and the eyebrows were heavy and grayish black. Cap,
face, and ulster were dripping with water.
The newcomer paused in the doorway for an instant, evidently to add the
finishing touch to a conversation previously begun.
"Well, I tell you, Ezra," he called, over his shoulder, "if it's too
deep to wade, maybe I can swim. Fat floats, they tell me, and Abbie says
I'm gettin' fleshier every day. So long."
He closed the door and, smiling broadly, swung down the aisle. The pair
of calamity prophets broke off their lament over the declining fisheries
and greeted him almost jovially.
"Hello, Cap'n!" cried one. "What's the south shore doin' over here in
this flood?"
"What's the matter, Cap'n?" demanded the other. "Broke loose from your
moorin's, have you? Did you ever see such a night in your life?"
The man in the ulster shook hands with each of his questioners, removing
a pair of wet, heavy leather gloves as he did so.
"Don't know's I ever did, Dan," he answered. "Couldn't see much of this
one but its color--and that's black. I come over this mornin' to
attend to some business at the court-house--deeds to some cranberry bog
property I just bought--and Judge Baxter made me go home with him to
dinner. Stayed at his house all the afternoon, and then his man, Ezra
Hallett, undertook to drive me up here to the depot. Talk about blind
pilotin'! Whew! The Judge's horse was a new one, not used to the roads,
Ezra's near-sighted, and I couldn't use my glasses 'count of the rain.
Let alone that, 'twas darker'n the fore-hold of Noah's ark. Ho, ho!
Sometimes we was in the ruts and sometimes we was in the bushes. I told
Ez we'd ought to have fetched along a dipsy lead, then maybe we could
get our bearin's by soundin's. 'Couldn't see 'em if we did get 'em,'
says he. 'No,' says I, 'but we could taste 'em. Man that's driven
through as much Ostable mud as you have ought to know the taste of every
road in town.'"
"Well, you caught the train, anyhow," observed Dan.
"Yup. If we'd been crippled as _well_ as blind we could have done that."
He seated himself just in front of the pair and glanced across the aisle
at Mr. Graves, to find the latter looking intently at him.
"Pretty tough night," he remarked, nodding.
"Yes," replied the lawyer briefly. He did not encourage conversation
with casual acquaintances. The latest arrival had caught his attention
because there was something familiar about him. It seemed to Graves that
he must have seen him before; and yet that was very improbable. This
was the attorney's first visit to Cape Cod, and he had already vowed
devoutly that it should be his last. He turned a chilling shoulder to
the trio opposite and again consulted the time-table. Denboro was the
next station; then--thank the Lord--South Denboro, his destination.
Conversation across the aisle was brisk, and its subjects were many and
varied. Mr. Graves became aware, more or less against his will, that
the person called "Cap'n" was, if not a leader in politics and local
affairs, still one whose opinions counted. Some of those opinions, as
given, were pointed and dryly descriptive; as, for instance, when a
certain town-meeting candidate was compared to a sculpin--"with a big
head that sort of impresses you, till you get close enough to realize it
_has_ to be big to make room for so much mouth." Graves, who was fond
of salt water fishing, knew what a sculpin was, and appreciated the
comparison.
The conductor entered the car and stopped to collect a ticket from his
new passenger. It was evident that he, too, was acquainted with the
latter.
"Evening, Cap'n," he said, politely. "Train's a little late to-night."
"It is--for to-night's train," was the prompt response, "but if it keeps
on at the rate it's travelin' now, it'll be a little early for to-morrow
mornin's, won't it?"
The conductor laughed. "Guess you're right," he said. "This is about as
wet a storm as I've run through since I've been on the road. If we get
to Provincetown without a washout we'll be lucky.... Well, we've made
another hitch. So far, so good."
The brakeman swung open the door to shout, "Denboro! Denboro!" the
conductor picked up his lantern and hurried away, the locomotive
whistled hoarsely, and the train hiccoughed alongside another little
station. Mr. Graves, peering through his window, imagined that here
the silhouettes on the platform moved more briskly. They seemed almost
excited. He inferred that Denboro was a bigger and more wide-awake
village than Ostable.
But he was mistaken. The reason for the excitement was made plain by the
conductor a moment afterwards. That official entered the car, removed
his uniform cap, and rubbed a wet forehead with a wetter hand.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, "I've been expecting it, and here it is.
Mark me down as a good prophet, will you? There's a washout a mile
further on, and a telegraph pole across the track. It's blowing great
guns and raining pitchforks. It'll be out of the question for us to go
forward before daylight, if then. Darn a railroad man's job anyhow!"
Five minutes later Mr. Graves descended the steps of the car, his
traveling bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other. As soon as
both feet were securely planted on the platform, he put down the bag
to wrestle with the umbrella and the hurricane, which was apparently
blowing from four directions at once. Feeling his hat leaving his head,
he became aware that the umbrella had turned inside out. He threw the
wreck violently under the train and stooped to pick up the bag. The bag
was no longer there.
"It's all right," said a calm voice behind him. "I've got your satchel,
neighbor. Better beat for harbor, hadn't we? Here! this way."
The bewildered New Yorker felt his arm seized in a firm grip, and he was
rushed across the platform, through a deluge of wind-driven water, and
into a small, hot, close-smelling waiting room. When he pushed his hat
clear of his eyes he saw that his rescuer was the big man who boarded
the train at Ostable. He was holding the missing bag and smiling.
"Dirty weather, hey?" he observed, pleasantly. "Sorry your umbrella had
to go by the board. I see you was carryin' too much canvas and tried to
run alongside in time to give you a tow; but you was dismasted just as I
got there. Here's your dunnage, all safe and sound."
He extended the traveling bag at arm's length. Mr. Graves accepted his
property and murmured thanks, not too cordially. His dignity and temper
had gone overboard with the umbrella, and he had not yet recovered them.
"Well," went on his companion, "here we are! And I, for one, wanted to
be somewheres else. Caleb," turning to the station master, who came in
at that moment, "any way of my gettin' home to-night?"
"'Fraid not, Cap'n," was the answer. "I don't know of any. Guess you'll
have to put up at the hotel and wait till mornin'."
"That's right," agreed the passenger called "Dan," who was standing
near. "That's what Jerry and I are goin' to do."
"Yes, but you and Jerry are bound for Orham. I'm booked for South
Denboro, and that's only seven miles off. I'd _swim_ the whole seven
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[ Transcriber's Notes:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
as possible, including inconsistencies in spelling, hyphenation,
and ellipsis usage. Some corrections of spelling and punctuation
have been made. They are listed at the end of the text.
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
]
ROYAL HIGHNESS
Translated from the German of
THOMAS MANN
by A. Cecil Curtis
GROSSET & DUNLAP
Publishers
by arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf
COPYRIGHT, 1909, S. FISCHER, VERLAG
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
Prelude vii
CHAPTER I
The Constriction 1
CHAPTER II
The Country 25
CHAPTER III
Hinnerke the Shoemaker 37
CHAPTER IV
Doctor Ueberbein 64
CHAPTER V
Albrecht II 110
CHAPTER VI
The Lofty Calling 146
CHAPTER VII
Imma 168
CHAPTER VIII
The Fulfilment 265
CHAPTER IX
The Rose-Bush 328
PRELUDE
The scene is the Albrechtstrasse, the main artery of the capital, which
runs from Albrechtsplatz and the Old Schloss to the barracks of the
Fusiliers of the Guard. The time is noon on an ordinary week-day; the
season of the year does not matter. The weather is fair to moderate. It
is not raining, but the sky is not clear; it is a uniform light grey,
uninteresting and sombre, and the street lies in a dull and sober light
which robs it of all mystery, all individuality. There is a moderate
amount of traffic, without much noise and crowd, corresponding to the
not over-busy character of the town. Tram-cars glide past, a cab or two
rolls by, along the pavement stroll a few residents, colourless folk,
passers-by, the public--"people."
Two officers, their hands in the slanting pockets of their grey
great-coats, approach each other; a general and a lieutenant. The
general is coming from the Schloss, the lieutenant from the direction of
the barracks. The lieutenant is quite young, a mere stripling, little
more than a child. He has narrow shoulders, dark hair, and the wide
cheek-bones so common in this part of the world, blue rather
tired-looking eyes, and a boyish face with a kind but reserved
expression. The general has snow-white hair, is tall and
broad-shouldered, altogether a commanding figure. His eyebrows look like
cotton-wool, and his moustache hangs right down over his mouth and chin.
He walks with slow deliberation, his sword rattles on the asphalt, his
plume flutters in the wind, and at every step he takes the big red lapel
of his coat flaps slowly up and down.
And so these two draw near each other. Can this rencontre lead to any
complication? Impossible. Every observer can foresee the course this
meeting will naturally take. We have on one side and the other age and
youth, authority and obedience, years of services and docile
apprenticeship--a mighty hierarchical gulf, rules and prescriptions,
separate the two. Natural organization, take thy course! And, instead,
what happens? Instead, the following surprising, painful, delightful,
and topsy-turvy scene occurs.
The general, noticing the young lieutenant's approach, alters his
bearing in a surprising manner. He draws himself up, yet at the same
time seems to get smaller. He tones down with a jerk, so to speak, the
splendour of his appearance, stops the clatter of his sword, and, while
his face assumes a cross and embarrassed expression, he obviously cannot
make up his mind where to turn his eyes, and tries to conceal the fact
by staring from under his cotton-wool eyebrows at the asphalt straight
in front of him.
The young lieutenant too betrays to the careful observer some slight
embarrassment, which however, strange to say, he seems to succeed,
better than the grey-haired general, in cloaking with a certain grace
and self-command. The tension of his mouth is relaxed into a smile at
once modest and genial, and his eyes are directed with a quiet and
self-possessed calm, seemingly without an effort, over the general's
shoulder and beyond.
By now they have come within three paces of each other.
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[Illustration: THE ADVENTURE WITH THE BASKET OF COIN.]
A
CHANCE FOR HIMSELF;
OR,
JACK HAZARD AND HIS TREASURE.
BY
J. T. TROWBRIDGE,
AUTHOR OF “JACK HAZARD AND HIS FORTUNES,” “LAWRENCE’S ADVENTURES,”
“COUPON BONDS,” ETC.
[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo]
BOSTON:
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,
LATE TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO.
1872.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872,
BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO., CAMBRIDGE.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS.
-------
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE THUNDER-SQUALL 7
II. WHAT JACK FOUND IN THE LOG 13
III. “TREASURE-TROVE” 19
IV. IN WHICH JACK COUNTS HIS CHICKENS 28
V. WAITING FOR THE DEACON 32
VI. “ABOUT THAT HALF-DOLLAR” 36
VII. HOW JACK WENT FOR HIS TREASURE 41
VIII. JACK AND THE SQUIRE 49
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material from the Google Print project.)
SIR WILLIAM HERSCHEL
HIS LIFE AND WORKS
[Illustration: Sir William Herschel]
SIR WILLIAM HERSCHEL
HIS LIFE AND WORKS
BY
EDWARD S. HOLDEN
UNITED STATES NAVAL OBSERVATORY, WASHINGTON
[Illustration: Coelis Exploratis]
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
743 AND 745 BROADWAY
1881
COPYRIGHT, 1880,
BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.
PRESS OF J. J. LITTLE & CO.,
NOS. 10 TO 20 ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK.
Please see the end of the text for TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
PREFACE.
In the following account of the life and works of Sir WILLIAM HERSCHEL,
I have been obliged to depend strictly upon data already in print--the
_Memoir_ of his sister, his own scientific writings and the memoirs and
diaries of his cotemporaries. The review of his published works will, I
trust, be of use. It is based upon a careful study of all his papers in
the _Philosophical Transactions_ and elsewhere.
A life of HERSCHEL which shall be satisfactory in every particular can
only be written after a full examination of the materials which are
preserved at the family seat in England; but as two generations have
passed since his death, and as no biography yet exists which approaches
to completeness, no apology seems to me to be needed for a
conscientious attempt to make the best use of the scanty material which
we do possess.
This study will, I trust, serve to exhibit so much of his life as
belongs to the whole public. His private life belongs to his family,
until the time is come to let the world know more of the greatest of
practical astronomers and of the inner life of one of its most profound
philosophers,--of a great and ardent mind, whose achievements are and
will remain the glory of England.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
EARLY YEARS; 1738-1772, 1
CHAPTER II.
LIFE IN BATH; 1772-1782, 33
CHAPTER III.
LIFE AT DATCHET, CLAY HALL, AND SLOUGH; 1782-1822, 68
CHAPTER IV.
REVIEW OF THE SCIENTIFIC LABORS OF HERSCHEL, 118
BIBLIOGRAPHY, 215
INDEX OF NAMES, 235
LIFE AND WORKS
OF
WILLIAM HERSCHEL.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY YEARS; 1738-1772.
Of the great modern philosophers, that one of whom least is known, is
WILLIAM HERSCHEL. We may appropriate the words which escaped him when
the barren region of the sky near the body of _Scorpio_ was passing
slowly through the field of his great reflector, during one of his
sweeps, to express our own sense of absence of light and knowledge:
_Hier ist wahrhaftig ein Loch im Himmel._
HERSCHEL prepared, about the year 1818, a biographical memorandum, which
his sister CAROLINA placed among his papers.
This has never been made public. The only thoroughly authentic sources
of information in possession of the world, are a letter written by
HERSCHEL himself, in answer to a pressing request for a sketch of his
life, and the _Memoir and Correspondence of CAROLINE HERSCHEL_ (London,
1876), a precious memorial not only of his life, but of one which
otherwise would have remained almost unknown, and one, too, which the
world could ill afford to lose. The latter, which has been ably edited
by Mrs. MARY CORNWALLIS HERSCHEL,[1] is the only source of knowledge in
regard to the early years of the great astronomer, and together with the
all too scanty materials to be gained from a diligent search through the
biography of the time, affords the data for those personal details of
his life, habits, and character, which seem to complete the distinct,
though partial conception of him which the student of his philosophical
writings acquires.
The letter referred to was published in the Goettingen Magazine of
Science and Literature, III., 4, shortly after the name of HERSCHEL had
become familiar to every ear through his discovery of _Uranus_, but
while the circumstances of
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Transcriber's Note:
The Greek words in this e-book have been transliterated according
to Project Gutenberg's Greek How-To. Such words are indicated
with surrounding underscores. There are a couple of instances
of author-transliterated Greek words. Those words are bracketed
and not italicized. Underscores are also used to indicate
italicization of words, but in this e-book such words are always
English words.
THE GOSPEL OF THE HEREAFTER
by
J. PATERSON-SMYTH, B.D., LL.D., LITT. D., D.C.L,
_Rector of St. Georges, Montreal, Late Professor
of Pastoral Theology, University of Dublin_
_Author of "How We Got Our Bible," "The
Old Documents and the New Bible," etc., etc., etc._
New York ---- Chicago ----
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Libraries.)
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS
[Illustration: THE SOUTHERN CROSS BATTLE FLAG DESIGNED BY GEN. JOSEPH E.
JOHNSTON.
THE STARS AND BARS.
FLAG ADOPTED BY THE CONFEDERATE CONGRESS IN 1863.
BATTLE FLAG ADOPTED BY THE CONFEDERATE CONGRESS IN 1863.]
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS.
Camp-Fire, PATRIOTIC and Sentimental.
COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY W. L. FAGAN
_ILLUSTRATED._
New York
M. T. RICHARDSON & CO.
1890.
COPYRIGHTED BY
M. T. RICHARDSON.
1889.
_PREFACE._
_The war songs of the South are a part of the history of the Lost Cause.
They are necessary to the impartial historian in forming a correct
estimate of the animus of the Southern people._
_Emotional literature is always a correct exponent of public sentiment,
and these songs index the passionate sincerity of the South at the time
they were written._
_Poetic merit is not claimed for all of them; still each one embodies
either a fact or a principle. Written in an era of war, when the public
mind was thoroughly aroused, some may now appear harsh and vindictive.
Eight millions of people read and sang them. This fact alone warrants
their collection and preservation._
_A greater number of the songs have been gathered from Southern
newspapers. The task has been laborious, but still a labor of love, as no
work of this kind has before been offered to the public._
_Thanks are due Mr. Henri Wehrman, of New Orleans, for permission to use
valuable copyrights, also to the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston; A. E.
Blackmar, New Orleans; and J. C. Schreiner, Savannah, Ga. Mr. G. N.
Galloway, Philadelphia, has given material assistance._
_The work is not complete, still the compiler claims for it the largest
and only collection of Confederate songs published._
_W. L. FAGAN._
_Havana, Ala., December 1, 1889._
LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.
_Page_
"_A flash from the edge of a hostile trench_," 351
"_And his life-blood is ebbing and splashing_," 64
"_Arise to thy lattice, the moon is asleep_," 173
"_Come back to me, my darling son, and light my life again_," 257
_Confederate note_, 371
"_Farewell to earth and all its beauteous bloom_," 161
"_For I know there is no other e'er can be so dear to me_," 297
_General J. E. B. Stuart_, 331
_General Lee_, 97
"_He faintly smiled and waved his hand_," 235
"_He's in the saddle now_," 201
"_* * * How mellow the light showers down on that brow_," 117
"_I am thinking of the soldier as the evening shadows fall_," 183
"_I'm a good old rebel_," 361
"_I marched up midout fear_," 11
"_Jack Morgan_," 282
"_Knitting for the soldiers! matron--merry maid_," 54
"_Knitting for the soldiers! wrinkled--aged crone_," 53
"_Lady, I go to fight for thee_," 151
"_Lying in the shadow, underneath the trees_," 75
"_Massa_," 216
"_Massa run, aha_," 217
"_My right arm bared for fiercer play_," 139
"_No matter should it rain or snow, That bugler is bound
to blow_," 23
"_Only a list of the wounded and dead_," 87
"_So we'll bury 'old Logan' to-night_," 127
"_The Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star_," 32
"_The hero boy lay dying_," 107
"_Then gallop by ravine and rocks_," 316
"_There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread_," 63
"_Though fifteen summers scarce have shed their blossoms on
thy brow_," 256
"_Three acres I_," 43
"_Thy steed is impatient his mistress to bear_," 172
"_We'll one day meet again_," 44
"_When the stars are softly smiling * * * Then I think of
thee and Heaven_," 299
SOUTHERN WAR SONGS.
GOD SAVE THE SOUTH.[1]
_National Hymn._
Words by GEORGE H. MILES; Music by C. W. A. ELLERBROCK; Permission of A.
E. BLACKMAR.
[The music of this song can be procured of the Oliver Ditson Co., Boston,
Mass, owner of the copyright.]
God save the South,
God save the South,
Her altars and firesides,
God save the South,
Now that the war is nigh,
Chanting our battle-cry
Freedom or death.
CHORUS--Now that the war is nigh,
Now that we arm to die,
Chanting the battle cry,
Freedom or death.
God be our shield,
At home or afield,
Stretch thine arm over us,
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[Illustration: HAVING SECURED A GOOD SUPPLY OF BAIT, THEY STARTED FOR
THE CANOE]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Mountain Boys Series
PHIL BRADLEY'S MOUNTAIN BOYS
Or
The Birch Bark Lodge
By
SILAS K. BOONE
The New York Book Company
New York
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1915, by
The New York Book Company
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Bound for Lake Surprise 11
II Lub and the Mother Bobcat 21
III A Mystery, to Start with 33
IV The Figure in the Moonlight 46
V The Sudden Awakening 59
VI Getting Rid of an Intruder 72
VII On the Border of the Lake 84
VIII The Mountain Boys in Camp 97
IX The '<DW53> Photographer 112
X Finding a Sunbeam 121
XI An Encounter in the Pine Woods 134
XII When Two Played the Game 143
XIII How "Daddy" Came Back 156
XIV The Puzzle of It All 169
XV After the Storm 181
XVI Peace After Strife--Conclusion 194
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
PHIL BRADLEY'S MOUNTAIN BOYS
CHAPTER I
BOUND FOR LAKE SURPRISE
"Phil, _please_ tell me we're nearly there!"
"I'd like to, Lub, for your sake; but the fact of the matter is we've
got about another hour of climbing before us, as near as I can reckon."
"Oh! dear, that means sixty long minutes of this everlasting scrambling
over logs, and crashing through tangled underbrush. Why, I reckon I'll
have the map of Ireland in red streaks on my face before I'm done with
it."
At that the other three boys laughed. They were not at all unfeeling,
and could appreciate the misery of their fat companion; but then Lub had
such a comical way of expressing himself, and made so many ludicrous
faces, that they could never take him seriously.
They were making their way through one of the loneliest parts of the
great Adirondack regions. There might not be a living soul within miles
of them, unless possibly some guide were wandering in search of new
fields.
The regular fishermen and tourists never came this way for many reasons;
and the only thing that had brought these four well-grown boys in the
region of Surprise Lake was the fact that one of them, Phil Bradley,
owned a large mountain estate of wild land that abutted on the western
shore of the lake.
All of the lads carried regular packs on their backs, secured with bands
that passed across their foreheads, thus giving them additional
advantages. In their hands they seemed to be gripping fishing rods in
their cases, as well as some other things in the way of tackle boxes and
bait pails.
Apparently Phil and his chums were bent on having the time of their
lives upon this outing. Laden in this fashion, it was no easy task they
had taken upon themselves to "tote" such burdens from the little
jumping-off station up the side of the mountain, and then across the
wooded plateau. There was no other way of getting to Lake Surprise, as
yet, no wagon road at all; which accounted for its being visited only
by an occasional fisherman or hunter.
Each year such places become fewer and fewer in the Adirondacks; and in
time to come doubtless a modern hotel would be erected where just then
only primitive solitude reigned.
Of course Lub (who at home in school rejoiced in the more aristocratic
name of Osmond Fenwick) being heavily built, suffered more than any of
his comrades in this long and arduous tramp. He puffed, and groaned, but
stuck everlastingly at it, for Lub was not the one to give in easily, no
matter how he complained.
Besides these two there was Raymond Tyson, a tall, thin chap, who was so
quick to see through nearly everything on the instant that his friends
had long ago dubbed him "X-Ray," and as such he was generally known.
The last of the quartette was Ethan Allan. He claimed to be a lineal
descendant of the famous Revolutionary hero who captured Ticonderoga
from the British by an early morning surprise. Ethan was very fond of
boasting of his illustrious ancestor, and on that account found himself
frequently "joshed" by his chums.
It happened that Ethan's folks were not as well off in this world's
goods as those of his chums; and he was exceedingly sensitive about this
fact. Charity was his bugbear; and he would never listen to any of the
others standing for his share of the expense, when they undertook an
expedition like the present.
Ethan was a smart chap. He knew considerable about the woods, and all
sorts of things that could be found there. And he had hit upon an
ingenious method for laying up a nice little store of money whereby he
could keep his savings bank well filled with ready cash, and thus
proudly meet his share of expenses.
In the winter he used to spend all his spare time out at a farm owned by
an uncle, where he had traps, and managed to catch quite a few little
fur-bearing denizens of the woods. Then in the summer and fall he knew
just where the choicest mushrooms could be picked day after day in the
early morning. He also had several deposits of wild ginseng and golden
seal marked down, and many pounds of the dried roots did he ship to a
distant city to be sold.
His success was enough to turn any boy's head, since he seemed to
receive a price far above the top-notch quotations for such things. The
head of the firm even took occasion to write, congratulating him on
having sent a fox skin (really a dark red), which he claimed was as fine
a _black_ fox as he had ever seen, and worth a large sum of money. On
another occasion it was to say that the dried ginseng Ethan had shipped
was simply "magnificent," and that they took pleasure in remitting a
price that they hoped would inspire him to renewed efforts.
Alas! how poor Ethan's pride would have taken a sad tumble had he ever
so much as guessed that this very accommodating fur and root dealer was
in reality an uncle of Phil Bradley, and that the whole thing was only a
nice little plot on the part of the other three boys to assist Ethan
without his knowing it.
That proved how much they thought of their chum; but should he ever
discover the humiliating truth there was likely to be some trouble, on
account of that pride of Ethan's.
It happened that Phil was an orphan, and had been left a very large
property, the income from which he could never begin to spend in any
sensible fashion. That accounted for his desire to assist Ethan; and
while he felt that it was too bad to play such a trick, there seemed to
be no other way in which the end they sought might be attained.
Raymond's folks, too, were wealthy, and he had really been sent up into
the clear atmosphere of the Adirondacks to improve his health. Although
the doctors did not really say he was threatened with signs of lung
trouble, they advised that the boy, who had grown so fast at the expense
of his strength, should live out of doors all he could for a year or
two. He would then be able to catch up in school duties with little
trouble.
The other three had by degrees come to look upon Phil as their leader;
and indeed, he had all the qualities that go to make a successful pilot.
They delighted to call themselves the "Mountain Boys." Really it had
been Ethan Allan who originated that name, and no doubt at the time he
had in mind those daring heroes of Revolutionary days who made
themselves such a terror to the British under the title of "Green
Mountain Boys."
Among other properties of which the Bradley estate consisted there was a
tract of several thousand acres of wild land bordering on this
mysterious Lake Surprise. Phil had heard a number of things about it
that excited his curiosity. He had so far never set eyes on the place;
when one of the other chums happened to suggest that it might make a
splendid little outing, if they started to look in on the lonely estate.
One thing led to another, with the result that here they were heading
toward the lake, and following a dim trail which had been described by
an old guide who could not accompany them on account of other pressing
engagements.
The boys were pretty good woodsmen, all but Lub, and they had not
doubted their ability to find the lake.
"I think we're in luck about one thing," X-Ray was saying, as he toiled
along sturdily, and wishing that he had as much stamina as Phil or
Ethan; for somehow his legs seemed a bit shaky after so long and
difficult a tramp, with all that burden piled on his back.
"As what?" asked Ethan, giving Phil a nudge, and thus calling attention
to the fact that by degrees the puffing Lub had actually gone ahead,
fastening his eyes on the winding trail, and evidently feeling that he
was becoming quite a woodsman.
"Why, about that cabin the old guide Jerry Kane told us was on the shore
of the lake. It'll save us building one, you know, if it's in any kind
of a decent condition," the tall boy went on to say.
"Yes, that's a fact," Phil himself remarked; "I've been thinking so
right along. I only hope we won't find some fishermen camped in it. Kane
said that once in a long while some guide took a party over to Surprise;
but that the tramp was so hard few gentlemen cared to try for it. There
are lakes all around that offer just about as good fishing."
"I should think there'd be some pretty fine hunting around up here,"
remarked Ethan. "I've noticed quite a few signs of deer, and that was
certainly the track of a big moose we saw. I'd like to run across one of
that stripe. Never saw a wild moose in all my life."
"I wouldn't be surprised if some of us do meet one while we roam the
woods around the little lake," Phil told him. "If I'm that lucky I want
to take a picture of the beast, to add to my collection."
"And I reckon, now," suggested X-Ray, "that nearly every night you'll be
setting traps, not to catch wild animals, but to make them take their
own pictures. That's the main reason why you've come up here, isn't it,
Phil?"
"Well, you know it's a sort of hobby of mine, and I've got all the
apparatus for taking flashlight pictures along with me. I started in to
the business just to kill time; but let me tell you it grows on a
fellow like everything. I'm something of a hunter myself, but this
shooting with a camera beats anything else all hollow.
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Proofreaders
MOBILIZING WOMAN-POWER
By HARRIOT STANTON BLATCH
1918
[Illustration: Jeanne d'Arc.--the spirit of the women of the Allies.]
TO THE ABLE AND DEVOTED WOMEN OF GREAT BRITAIN AND FRANCE
Who have stood behind the armies of the Allies through the years of the
Great War as an unswerving second line of defense against an onslaught
upon the liberty and civilization of the world, I dedicate this volume.
HARRIOT STANTON BLATCH
CONTENTS
FOREWORD BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT
I. OUR FOE
II. WINNING THE WAR
III. MOBILIZING WOMEN IN GREAT BRITAIN
IV. MOBILIZING WOMEN IN FRANCE
V. MOBILIZING
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Transcriber’s Notes
Text between _underscores_ and =equal signs= represents text printed
in italics and bold face, respectively. Small capitals have been
changed to ALL CAPITALS.
More transcriber’s notes may be found at the end of this text.
REPORTS
RELATING TO
THE SANITARY CONDITION
OF THE
CITY OF LONDON.
BY
JOHN SIMON, F.R.S.
SURGEON TO ST. THOMAS’S HOSPITAL, AND
OFFICER OF HEALTH TO THE CITY.
LONDON:
JOHN W. PARKER AND SON, WEST STRAND.
MDCCCLIV.
LONDON:
SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.
TO
LOUIS MICHAEL SIMON,
OF THE STOCK EXCHANGE, LONDON, AND OF
THE PARAGON, BLACKHEATH,
I DEDICATE THIS REPRINT OF MY REPORTS:
LOOKING
LESS TO WHAT LITTLE INTRINSIC MERIT THEY MAY HAVE,
THAN TO THE YEARS OF ANXIOUS LABOUR THEY REPRESENT:
DEEMING IT FIT TO ASSOCIATE
MY FATHER’S NAME
WITH A RECORD OF ENDEAVOURS TO DO MY DUTY:
BECAUSE IN THIS HE HAS BEEN MY BEST EXAMPLE;
AND
BECAUSE I COUNT IT THE HAPPIEST INFLUENCE IN MY LOT,
THAT, BOUND TO HIM BY EVERY TIE OF GRATEFUL AFFECTION,
I HAVE LIKEWISE BEEN ABLE, FROM MY EARLIEST CHILDHOOD
TILL NOW--THE EVENING OF HIS LIFE,
TO REGARD HIM WITH UNQUALIFIED AND INCREASING RESPECT.
CONTENTS.
Page
DEDICATION iii
PREFACE vii
FIRST ANNUAL REPORT 1
FURTHER REMARKS ON WATER-SUPPLY 72
SECOND ANNUAL REPORT 77
THIRD ANNUAL REPORT 177
FOURTH ANNUAL REPORT 211
FIFTH ANNUAL REPORT 213
APPENDIX OF TABLES ILLUSTRATING THE SANITARY CONDITION OF
THE CITY OF LONDON. 264
REPORT ON CITY BURIAL-GROUNDS 280
REPORT ON EXTRAMURAL INTERMENTS 285
PREFACE.
The following Reports, officially addressed to the Commissioners of
Sewers of the City of London, were originally printed only for the use
of the Corporation; and although, to my very great pleasure, they have
been extensively circulated through the medium of the daily press, there
has continued so frequent an application for separate copies that the
surplus-stock at Guildhall has long been exhausted. Under these
circumstances--believing the Reports may have some future interest, as
belonging to an important educational period in the matters to which
they refer, I have requested the Commission to allow their collective
reprint and publication; and this indulgence having been kindly accorded
me, I have gathered into the present volume all my Annual Reports,
together with a special Report suggesting arrangements for extramural
burial.
From the nature of the work, I have not considered myself at liberty to
make those extensive alterations of text which usually belong to a
second edition. I have restricted myself to a few verbal corrections,
and to rectifying or omitting some unimportant paragraph, here or there,
in case its matter has been more fully or more correctly stated in parts
of a subsequent Report. Frequently, where I have wished to explain or
qualify passages in the text, I have added foot-notes; but these are
distinguished as interpolations by the mark--J. S., 1854.
My Reports lay no claim to the merit of scientific discovery. Rather,
they deal with things already notorious to Science; and, in writing
them, my hopes have tended chiefly towards winning for such doctrines
more general and more practical reception. It has seemed to me no
unworthy object, that, confining myself often to almost indisputable
topics--to truths bordering on truism, I should labour to make trite
knowledge bear fruit in common application.
Nor in any degree do they profess to be cyclopædic in the subject of
Preventive Medicine; for it is but a small part of this science that
hitherto is recognised by the law; and that--so far as the metropolis is
concerned, scarcely beyond the confines of the City. It would have been
an idle sort of industry, to say much of places or of matters foreign to
the jurisdiction of those whom I officially addressed.
In re-publishing documents which proclaim extreme sanitary evils, as
affecting the City, I think it right to draw attention to the dates of
the several Reports, and to state that for the last five years many of
these evils have been undergoing progressive diminution, of late at a
rapid and increasing rate; while, at their worst, they represented only
what I fear must be considered the present average condition of our
urban population.
This national prevalence of sanitary neglect is a very grievous fact;
and though I pretend to no official concern in anything beyond the City
boundaries, I cannot forego the present opportunity of saying a few
words to bespeak for it the reader’s attention. I would beg any educated
person to consider what are the conditions in which alone animal life
can thrive; to learn, by personal inspection, how far these conditions
are realised for the masses of our population; and to form for himself a
conscientious judgment as to the need for great, if even almost
revolutionary, reforms. Let any such person devote an hour to visiting
some very poor neighbourhood in the metropolis, or in almost any of our
large towns. Let
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"The Right Stuff"
Some Episodes in the Career of a North Briton
BY
IAN HAY
DR JOHNSON. Oatmeal, sir? The food of horses in England and of men in
Scotland!
BOSWELL (_roused at last_). And where, sir, will you find such
horses--or such men?
_SHILLING EDITION_
William Blackwood & Sons
Edinburgh and London
1912
_TO_
_AN INDULGENT CRITIC_
CONTENTS.
BOOK ONE.
RAW MATERIAL.
CHAP.
I. "OATMEAL AND THE SHORTER CATECHISM"
II. INTRODUCES A PILLAR OF STATE AND THE APPURTENANCES THEREOF
III. "ANENT"
IV. A TRIAL TRIP
V. ROBIN ON DUTY
VI. ROBIN OFF DUTY
VII. A DISSOLUTION OF PARTNERSHIP
VIII. OF A PIT THAT WAS DIGGED, AND WHO FELL INTO IT
IX. THE POLICY OF THE CLOSED DOOR
X. ROBIN'S WAY OF DOING IT
BOOK TWO.
THE FINISHED ARTICLE.
XI. A MISFIRE
XII. THE COMPLEAT ANGLER
XIII. A HOSTAGE TO FORTUNE
XIV. "TO DIE--WILL BE AN _AWFULLY_ BIG ADVENTURE"
XV. TWO BATTLES
XVI. "_QUI PERD, GAGNE_"
XVII. IN WHICH ALL'S RIGHT WITH THE WORLD
XVIII. A PROPHET IN HIS OWN COUNTRY
BOOK ONE.
RAW MATERIAL.
CHAPTER ONE.
OATMEAL AND THE SHORTER CATECHISM.
The first and most-serious-but-one ordeal in the life of Robert Chalmers
Fordyce--so Robert Chalmers himself informed me years afterwards--was
the examination for the Bursary which he gained at Edinburgh University.
A bursary is what an English undergraduate would call a "Schol."
(Imagine a Scottish student talking about a "Burse"!)
Robert Chalmers Fordyce arrived in Edinburgh pretty evenly divided
between helpless stupefaction at the sight of a great city and stern
determination not to be imposed upon by the inhabitants thereof. His
fears were not as deep-seated as those of Tom Pinch on a similar
occasion,--he, it will be remembered, suffered severe qualms from his
familiarity with certain rural traditions concerning the composition of
London pies,--but he was far from happy. He had never slept away from
his native hillside before; he had never seen a town possessing more
than three thousand inhabitants; and he had only once travelled in a
train.
Moreover, he was proceeding to an inquisition which would decide once
and for all whether he was to go forth and conquer the world with a
university education behind him, or go back to the plough and sup
porridge for the rest of his life. To-morrow he was to have his
opportunity, and the consideration of how that opportunity could best be
gripped and brought to the ground blinded Robin even to the wonders of
the Forth Bridge.
He sat in the corner of the railway carriage, passing in review the
means of conquest at his disposal. His actual stock of scholarship, he
knew, was well up to the required standard: he was as letter perfect in
Latin, Greek, Mathematics, and Literature as hard study and remorseless
coaching could make him. Everything needful was in his head--but could
he get it out again? That was the question. The roaring world in which
he would find himself, the strange examination-room, the quizzing
professors--would these combine with his native shyness to seal the lips
and cramp the pen of Robert Chalmers Fordyce? No--a thousand times no!
He would win through! Robert set his teeth, braced himself, and kicked
the man opposite.
He apologised, attributing the discourtesy to the length of his legs--he
stood about six feet three--and smiled so largely and benignantly, that
the Man Opposite, who had intended to be thoroughly disagreeable, melted
at once, and said it was the fault of the Company for providing such
restricted accommodation, and gave Robert _The Scotsman_ to read.
Robert thanked him, and, effacing himself behind _The Scotsman_,--though,
for all the instruction or edification that his present frame of mind
permitted him to
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BRITISH
ARTISTS
JOHN PETTIE, R.A., H.R.S.A.
[Illustration: Bonnie Prince Charlie (Cover Page)]
IN THE SAME SERIES
BIRKET FOSTER, R.W.S.
KATE GREENAWAY
GEORGE MORLAND
A. AND C. BLACK . 4 SOHO SQUARE . LONDON, W.
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
AUSTRALASIA OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
205 FLINDERS LANE, MELBOURNE
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
27 RICHMOND STREET WEST, TORONTO
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
309 BOW BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA
[Illustration: Portrait of John Pettie]
JOHN PETTIE
R.A., H.R.S.A.
SIXTEEN EXAMPLES IN COLOUR
OF THE ARTIST'S WORK
WITH
AN INTRODUCTION
BY
MARTIN HARDIE, B.A., A.R.E.
[Illustration]
PUBLISHED BY A. & C. BLACK
4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON
MCMX
LIST OF PLATES
OWNER OF ORIGINAL
1. Portrait of John Pettie _Tate Gallery_
2. The Vigil "
3. The Step _Kenneth M. Clark, Esq._
4. A Drum-head Court-Martial _Mappin Art Gallery, Sheffield_
5. Treason "
6. Rejected Addresses _The Rt. Hon. Baron Faber_
7. Ho! Ho! Old Noll! _W. J. Chrystal, Esq_.
8. A Sword-and-Dagger Fight _Corporation Art Gallery, Glasgow_
9. Two Strings to her Bow "
[A]10. Bonnie Prince Charlie _Charles Stewart, Esq._
11. Disbanded _Fine Art Institution, Dundee_
12. Portrait of Sir Charles
Wyndham as David Garrick _Sir Charles Wyndham_
13. The Clash of Steel _John Jordan, Esq._
14. A Storm in a Teacup _Colonel Harding_
15. Grandmother's Memories _Trustees of the late Alex. Rose, Esq._
16. The Chieftain's Candlesticks _By permission of the late Mrs. Morten_
[A] _On the cover_
JOHN PETTIE, R.A.
Like many great painters, John Pettie was of humble origin. Born in
Edinburgh in 1839, he was the son of a tradesman who, having reached
some prosperity, purchased a business in the village of East Linton and
moved there with his family in 1852. The boy was born with art in his
blood, and Nature never intended him for the dull and respectable
vocation to which his father was anxious that he should succeed. More
than once, when despatched on an errand to storeroom or cellar, he was
discovered making drawings on the lid of a wooden box or the top of a
cask, totally oblivious of his journey and its object. A portrait of the
village carrier and his donkey, done when he was a boy of fifteen,
struck neighbouring critics as being almost "uncanny," and overcame even
his father's objections to art as a possible career.
Greatly daring, his mother carried off her son to Edinburgh, a bundle of
drawings beneath his arm, to visit Mr. James Drummond, one of the
leading members of the Royal Scottish Academy. "Much better make him
stick to business," was his verdict, after listening to the mother's
story. But his tone changed when he had seen the drawings. Not a word
was uttered while he turned them over; but then
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COUSIN***
E-text prepared by Emmy, Beth Baran, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 45797-h.htm or 45797-h.zip:
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(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45797/45797-h.zip)
JOSE: OUR LITTLE PORTUGUESE 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
| 802.519758 | 3,934 |
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Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation, diacritics, and spelling in the original
document have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been
corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
On page 18, "sanpans" should possibly be "sampans".
[Illustration: THE WAY IN.]
INTIMATE
CHINA
The Chinese as I have
seen them. By Mrs.
Archibald Little, Author
of _A Marriage in China_
With 120 Illustrations
HUTCHINSON & CO.
Paternoster Row, London... 1899
PRINTED BY
HAZELL, WATSON, AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY.
CONTENTS.
PRELUDE.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
PAGE
Arriving in Shanghai.--My First Tea-season.--Inside a
Chinese City.--Shanghai Gardens.--In the Romantic East at
last! 1
CHAPTER I.
ON THE UPPER YANGTSE.
Boat-travel.--Vegetation.--Trackers.--Terrace of the
Sun.--Gold Diamond Mountain.--Meng Liang's Ladder.--Great
Szechuan Road.--Steamer Voyage.--Chinese Hades.--Caves 31
CHAPTER II.
A LAND JOURNEY.
Large Farmsteads.--Wedding Party.--Atoning for an
Insult.--Rowdy Lichuan.--Old-fashioned Inn.--Dog's
Triumphal Progress.--Free Fight.--Wicked
Music.--
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Catalogue No 24 Season 1910-11
NATURE BOOKS
Popular and Scientific
OVER 2000 TITLES
Out of Print Works
ZOOLOGY
BOTANY
GEOLOGY
SPORT
FROM THE STOCK OF
THE FRANKLIN BOOKSHOP
No. 920 Walnut Street
PHILADELPHIA, PA.
SAMUEL N. RHOADS, Proprietor
_N. B.--Don't Overlook the Supplement, and Index at end._
MAMMALS.
1. Allen, Harrison. Monograph of the Bats of N. America. Original paper
covers, uncut. Illustrated. Rare first edition. Wash., June, 1864.
$1.75
2. Allen, H. Same. Second Ed. An entirely new work of 198 pp. and 38
plates. Bull. No. 43 of U. S. N. M. Orig. paper covers; uncut, fine
copy. Out of print and in demand. Wash., 1893.
$2.00
2A. Allen, J. A. The American Bisons, Living and Extinct. Being
contained in Memoirs of the Geological Survey of Kentucky. Vol. 1. Other
valuable papers by Shaler and Carr. 4to, half mor., many plates, fine
copy of much value and rarity. Cambridge, 1876.
$14.00
2B. Allen, J. A. American Bisons. Another copy, lacking Shaler's
Monographs.
$12.00
3. Allen, J. A. History of N. American Pinnipeds, A Monograph of the
Walr
| 802.784403 | 3,936 |
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credit
Transcribed from the 1870 G. J. Palmer edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
IN OMNIBUS GLORIFICETUR DEUS.
--_Regula_, _S. Benedicti_, _Cap. lvij_.
[Picture: Decorative graphic of cross]
THE HOLY ISLE;
A Legend of Bardsey Abbey.
By IGNATIUS, O.S.B.
_Dedicated_, _without permission_, _to Lord Newborough_, _and to the_
_Rev. Hugh Roberts_, _Vicar of Aberdaron_, _Carnarvonshire_.
* * * * *
LONDON:
G. J. PALMER, 32, LITTLE QUEEN STREET,
LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.
1870.
[Picture: Decorative graphic of cross]
THE HOLY ISLE.
A Legend of Bardsey Abbey.
I WATCHED the sea waves ebbing,
Beneath the crimson glow,
Which sunset light was pouring,
Upon their soft, sweet flow.
The wavelets looked liked dancers,
Upon the sun-lit sea,
They sung in whispering chorus,--
I thought they sung to me
Of fair and far off landscapes
Beyond that molten tide,
Of better joys, and gladness
Beyond those waters wide.
The wavelets all seemed passing
On, to some other strands,
And following the sun's-glow,
To ever sun-lit lands.
But as I thought these fancies,
Again I raised mine eyes
And saw the sunset tinting
The glorious western skies.
Now'mid the farewell glories
"Of Sol's departing ray,"
I saw an Island resting
Upon his golden way.
There, misty mid the Sunshine,
The far off Isle appears,
Right out among the sea waves
Its rocky coast uprears.
And as I gaze, the sunset
Seems lighting up its shore,
Bathing the isle in glory
And then is seen no more.
Sweet, soothing calm fell o'er me
I watched the Islet still,
All round me heard I voices
Which seemed the air to fill.
Said one, "That Isle is holy,
For Saints are sleeping there,
Now lonely and deserted,
T'was once an Isle of prayer."
"O Man! say would'st thou tremble,
To come away and see,
In vision, strange, sweet pictures
Which I can shew to thee?"
The Angel was so lovely,
So sweet the Angel's smile,
I easily consented,--
He pointed to the Isle!
"Then will I bear thee thither,
One thousand years ago;--
I speak to aid thy weakness,
No _time_ can Angels know.
The present, past, and future,
All one they are to me,
I pass along their boundaries,
Unlimited, and free."
A strange, calm change stole o'er me,
My spirit seemed to rise
In gentle, tireless motion,
Just as the sea-bird flies.
My Angel-guide was leading
My spirit o'er the sea
One moment--and we rested,
Upon the Islet's lea.
Soft gloaming filled the air,
Deep peace lay all around,
Hushed voices seemed to whisper,
A wavelike, murmuring sound.
"Sweet Angel, say, where am I,--
Say me the Island's name,
And tell me why such glory,
Enwraps it as a flame?
Say, too, what is that chanting,
So sweet, so very near,
The strangeness of this beauty
It fills my soul with fear?"
"This Holy Place is Bardsey,
Jesus, He loves it well,
'Tis wrapped in God's own brightness,
Safe from the power of Hell.
Those voices are the Virgins,
In yonder Abbey Choir,
Praises to Jesus singing,
Of which they never tire.
Hush! mid the shades of evening,
How restfully they sing,
Their Vesper praise-wreaths bringing
To Jesus Christ their King.
'Mid lights of sunset glowing,
St. Mary's Abbey stands;
But see! t'is wrapped in glories,
From far off better Lands."
I looked again, and started,
For lo! another scene.
The Convent is surrounded
With Heaven's own brightest sheen.
And choirs of Angels hover
High in the sunset air,
While th' holy monks are chanting
Their peaceful, evening prayer.
The Monastery is glowing,
Like heaps of molten gold;
The walls seem all transparent,
With majesty untold.
T'is strange; my spirit enters
St Mary's Sacred Shrine,
I see the cowled figures,
In many a white rob'd line, {6}
Filling the stalls, but facing
The hallow'd Altar Throne,
Where Jesus makes His dwelling,
Untended and alone.
O peaceful, happy Bardsey,
Sweet Islet of the Sea!
I would for ever rest me,
All joyfully in thee!
O dear St. Marys Abbey,
On Bardsey's northern shore;
Would I could bide within thee,
And part from thee no more!
O happy Monks and Virgins,
Singing by night and day,
Your hymnals to Sweet Jesus,
In dearest, fondest lay!
How can I speak your glory,
How can I tell your worth?
Ye are the Church's safeguard;
Ye are the "Salt of earth."
Ye live the life of Angels;
Ye never cease from praise,
To Heaven your intercedings
For sinners ceaseless raise.
Ah! well may throngs of sinners
Seek this most Sacred Isle,
Well may ten thousand pilgrims
Visit St. Mary's pile.
Well may'st thou, Aberdaron, {8}
Loving to Bardsey be,
And daily turn thy glances
To the Islet out at sea.
For Bardsey is the lighthouse
Of many a shipwrecked soul;
To many a way-worn wanderer
Is Bardsey's Isle the goal.
The glow of Bardsey's brightness,
Illumes wild Cambria's shores,
Across the Irish Channel,
Her Heavenly light she pours.
And blessed saints in thousands
Have dwelt on Bardsey's hill,
Sending her countless Virgins
Celestial cho
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WHAT I REMEMBER
VOL. I.
[Illustration: THOMAS ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE
_From a painting by Maria Taylor_
London: Richard Bentley & Son
_Printed in Paris_]
WHAT I REMEMBER
BY
THOMAS ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE
[Illustration: colophon]
_IN TWO VOLUMES_
VOL. I
_SECOND EDITION_
LONDON
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON
Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen
1887
RICHARD CLAY AND SONS,
LONDON AND BUNGAY.
OMNIBUS WICCAMICIS
T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE
B. M. DE WINTON PROPE WINTON COLL.
OLIM ALUMNUS
GRATO ANIMO
D. D. D.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
EARLY DAYS IN LONDON 1
CHAPTER II.
EARLY DAYS IN LONDON 28
CHAPTER III.
AT HARROW 57
CHAPTER IV.
AT HARROW 81
CHAPTER V.
AT WINCHESTER 94
CHAPTER VI.
AT WINCHESTER 125
CHAPTER VII.
VISIT TO AMERICA 150
CHAPTER VIII.
VISIT TO AMERICA 168
CHAPTER IX.
AT OXFORD 190
CHAPTER X.
OLD DIARIES 221
CHAPTER XI.
OLD DIARIES 228
CHAPTER XII.
OLD DIARIES 243
CHAPTER XIII.
OLD DIARIES.--AT PARIS 261
CHAPTER XIV.
AT BRUGES.--AT HADLEY 290
CHAPTER XV.
GERMAN TOUR.--IN AUSTRIA 306
CHAPTER XVI.
IN AUSTRIA 328
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THE SHAVING OF SHAGPAT
By
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[Illustration]
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK. BOSTON. CHICAGO
ATLANTA. SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON. BOMBAY. CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
[Illustration: 1. LORD MINTO, VICEROY OF INDIA. _Frontispiece_]
TRANS-HIMALAYA
DISCOVERIES AND ADVENTURES IN TIBET
BY
SVEN HEDIN
WITH 388 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, WATER-COLOUR
SKETCHES, AND DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR
AND 10 MAPS
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1909
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1909,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
* * * * *
Set up and electrotyped. Published December, 1909.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
TO
HIS EXCELLENCY
THE EARL OF MINTO
VICEROY OF INDIA
WITH GRATITUDE AND ADMIRATION
FROM THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
In the first place I desire to pay homage to the memory of my patron,
King Oskar of Sweden, by a few words of gratitude. The late King showed
as warm and intelligent an interest in my plan for a new expedition as
he had on former occasions, and assisted in the fulfilment of my project
with much increased liberality.
I estimated the cost of the journey at 80,000 kronor (about L4400), and
this sum was subscribed within a week by my old friend Emmanuel Nobel,
and my patrons, Frederik Loewenadler, Oscar Ekman, Robert Dickson,
William Olsson, and Henry Ruffer, banker in London. I cannot adequately
express my thanks to these gentlemen. In consequence of the political
difficulties I encountered in India, which forced me to make wide
detours, the expenses were increased by about 50,000 kronor (L2800), but
this sum I was able to draw from my own resources.
As on former occasions, I have this time also to thank Dr. Nils Ekholm
for his great kindness in working out the absolute heights. The three
lithographic maps have been compiled from my original sheets with
painstaking care by Lieutenant C. J. Otto Kjellstroem, who devoted all
his furlough to this troublesome work. The astronomical points, nearly
one hundred, have been calculated by the Assistant Roth of the Stockholm
Observatory; a few points, which appeared doubtful, were omitted in
drawing the route on the map, which is based on points previously
determined. The map illustrating my narrative in the _Geographical
Journal_, April 1909, I drew roughly from memory without consulting the
original sheets, for I had no time to spare; the errors which naturally
crept in have been corrected on the new maps, but I wish to state here
the cause of the discrepancy. The final maps, which I hope to publish in
a voluminous scientific work, will be distinguished by still greater
accuracy and detail.
I claim not the slightest artistic merit for my drawings, and my
water-colours are extremely defective both in drawing and colouring. One
of the pictures, the lama opening the door of the mausoleum, I left
unfinished in my haste; it has been thrown in with the others, with the
wall-paintings and shading incomplete. To criticize these slight
attempts as works of art would be like wasting gunpowder on dead crows.
For the sake of variety several illustrations have been drawn by the
British artists De Haenen and T. Macfarlane, but it must not be assumed
that these are fanciful productions. Every one of them is based on
outline drawings by myself, a number of photographs, and a full
description of the scene. De Haenen's illustrations appeared in the
London _Graphic_, and were ordered when I was still in India.
Macfarlane's drawings were executed this summer, and I was able to
inspect his designs and approve of them before they were worked up.
As to the text, I have endeavoured to depict the events of the journey
as far as the limited space permitted, but I have also imprudently
allowed myself to touch on subjects with which I am not at all
familiar--I allude in particular to Lamaism. It has been unfortunate
that I had to write the whole book in 107 days, during which many hours
were taken up with work connected with the maps and illustrations and by
an extensive correspondence with foreign publishers, especially Albert
Brockhaus of Leipzig, who never wearied in giving me excellent advice.
The whole work has been hurried, and the book from beginning to end is
like a vessel which ventures out into the ocean of the world's tumult
and of criticism with many leaks and cracks.
My thanks are also due to my father, who made a clean copy from my
illegible manuscript; and to my mother, who has saved me from many
mistakes. Dr. Carl Forstrand has revised both the manuscript and the
proof-sheets, and has compiled the Swedish index.
* * * * *
The seven and thirty Asiatics who followed me faithfully through Tibet,
and contributed in no small degree to the successful issue and results
of the expedition, have had the honour of receiving from His Majesty the
King of Sweden gold and silver medals bearing the portrait of the King,
a crown, and an inscription. I humbly beg His Majesty to accept my
warmest and most sincere thanks for his great generosity.
The book is dedicated to Lord Minto, as a slight testimony of my
gratitude for all his kindness and hospitality. It had been Lord Minto's
intention to further my plans as Lord Curzon would have done if he had
still been Viceroy of India, but political considerations prevented him.
When, however, I was actually in Tibet, the Viceroy was free to use his
influence with the Tashi Lama, and the consequence was that many doors
in the forbidden land, formerly tightly closed, were opened to me.
Dear reminiscences of India hovered about my lonesome years in dreary
Tibet like the pleasant rustling of palm leaves. It will suffice to
mention men like Lord Kitchener, in whose house I spent a week never to
be forgotten; Colonel Dunlop Smith, who took charge of my notes and
maps and sent them home, and also forwarded a whole caravan of
necessaries to Gartok; Younghusband, Patterson, Ryder, Rawling, and many
others. And, lastly, Colonel Longe, Surveyor-General, and Colonel
Burrard, of the Survey of India, who, with the greatest kindness, had my
900 map-sheets of Tibet photographed, and stored the negatives among
their records in case the originals should be lost, and who, after I had
placed my 200 map-sheets of Persia at the disposal of the Indian
Government, had them worked up in the North-Western Frontier Drawing
Office and combined into a fine map of eleven printed sheets--a map
which is to be treated as "confidential" until my scientific works have
appeared.
It is with the greatest pleasure that I avail myself of this opportunity
of expressing my sincere gratitude for all the innumerable tokens of
sympathy and appreciation which I received in all parts of the United
Kingdom, and for all the honours conferred on me by Societies, and the
warm welcome I met with from the audiences I had the pleasure of
addressing. I shall always cherish a proud and happy remembrance of the
two months which it was my good-fortune to spend in the British Isles;
and the kindness then showered upon me was the more delightful because
it was extended also to two of my sisters, who accompanied me.
Were I to mention all the ladies and gentlemen to whom I am especially
indebted, I could fill several pages. But I cannot let this book go
forth through the English-speaking world without expressing my sincere
gratitude to Lord Curzon for the great and encouraging interest he has
always taken in myself and my journeys; to Lord Morley for the brilliant
speech he delivered after my first lecture--the most graceful compliment
ever paid me, as well as for many other marks of kindness and sympathy
shown to me by the Secretary of State for India; to the Swedish
Minister in London, Count Herman Wrangel, for all the valuable services
he rendered me during and after my journey; to Major Leonard Darwin and
the Council and Members of the Royal Geographical Society, to whom I was
delighted to return, not as a strange guest, but as an old friend; to
the famous and illustrious Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, where I
was overwhelmed with exceptional honours and boundless hospitality; to
the Royal Scottish Geographical Society, where twice before I had
received a warm reception. Well, when I think of those charming days in
England and Scotland I am inclined to dwell too long upon them, and I
must hasten to a conclusion. But there is one more name, which I have
left to the last, because it has been very dear to me for many years,
that of Dr. J. Scott Keltie. The general public will never know what it
means to be the Secretary and mainspring of the Royal Geographical
Society, to work year after year in that important office in Savile Row,
to receive explorers from all corners of the world and satisfy all their
demands, without ever losing patience or ever hearing a word of thanks.
I can conceive from my own experience how much trouble I have caused Dr.
Keltie, but yet he has always met me with the same amiability and has
always been a constant friend, whether I have been at home or away for
years on long journeys.
Dr. M. A. Stein started and returned from his splendid journey in
Central Asia at the same times as myself. We crossed different parts of
the old continent, but we have several interests in common, and I am
glad to congratulate Dr. Stein most heartily on his important
discoveries and the brilliant results he has brought back.
It is my intention to collect in a third volume all the material for
which there is no room in _Trans-Himalaya_. For instance, I have been
obliged to omit a description of the march northwards from the source
of the Indus and of the journey over the Trans-Himalaya to Gartok, as
well as of the road from Gartok to Ladak, and the very interesting route
from the Nganglaring-tso to Simla. I have also had to postpone the
description of several monasteries to a later opportunity. In this
future book I will also record my recollections of beautiful, charming
Japan, where I gained so many friends, and of Korea, Manchuria, and Port
Arthur. The manuscript of this later volume is already finished, and I
long for the opportunity of publicly thanking the Japanese, as well as
our representative in Japan and China, the Minister Extraordinary,
Wallenberg, for all the delightful hospitality and all the honours
showered down on me in the Land of the Rising Sun.
Lastly, the appetite of young people for adventures will be satisfied in
an especial work.
I am glad to be able to announce at the eleventh hour that the Madrassi
Manuel, who in Chapter IX. was reported lost, has at length been found
again.
In conclusion, I must say a few words of thanks to my publishers, and
first of all to Herre K. O. Bonnier of Stockholm, for his valuable
co-operation and the elegant form in which he has produced my book, and
then to the firm of F. A. Brockhaus, Leipzig; the "Elsevier" Uitgevers
Maatschappij, Amsterdam; Hachette & C^ie, Paris; "Kansa," Suomalainen
Kustannus-O-Y, Helsingfors; the Robert Lampel Buchhandlung (F. Wodianer
& Soehne) Act.-Ges., Budapest; Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London and New
York; J. Otto, Prague; Fratelli Treves, Milan.
SVEN HEDIN.
STOCKH
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Produced by Les Bowler
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
By William Makepeace Thackeray
Contents.
I. Of the loves of Mr. Perkins and Miss Gorgon, and of the two
great factions in the town of Oldborough.
II. Shows how the plot began to thicken in or about Bedford Row.
III. Behind the scenes.
Note:
A story of Charles de Bernard furnished the plot of
"The Bedford-Row Conspiracy."
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
CHAPTER I.
OF THE LOVES OF MR. PERKINS AND MISS GORGON, AND OF THE TWO GREAT
FACTIONS IN THE TOWN OF OLDBOROUGH.
"My dear John," cried Lucy, with a very wise look indeed, "it must and
shall be so. As for Doughty Street, with our means, a house is out of
the question. We must keep three servants, and Aunt Biggs says the taxes
are one-and-twenty pounds a year."
"I have seen a sweet place at Chelsea," remarked John: "Paradise Row,
No. 17,--garden--greenhouse--fifty pounds a year--omnibus to town within
a mile."
"What! that I may be left alone all day, and you spend a fortune in
driving backward and forward in those horrid breakneck cabs? My darling,
I should die there--die of fright, I know I should. Did you not say
yourself that the road was not as yet lighted, and that the place
swarmed with public-houses and dreadful tipsy Irish bricklayers? Would
you kill me, John?"
"My da-arling," said John, with tremendous fondness, clutching Miss
Lucy suddenly round the waist, and rapping the hand of that young person
violently against his waistcoat,--"My da-arling, don't say such things,
even in a joke. If I objected to the chambers, it is only because you,
my love, with your birth and connections, ought to have a house of your
own. The chambers are quite large enough and certainly quite good enough
for me." And so, after some more sweet parley on the part of these
young people, it was agreed that they should take up their abode,
when married, in a part of the House number One hundred and something,
Bedford Row.
It will be necessary to explain to the reader that John was no other
than John Perkins, Esquire, of the Middle Temple, barrister-at-law, and
that Miss Lucy was the daughter of the late Captain Gorgon, and Marianne
Biggs, his wife. The Captain being of noble connections, younger son of
a baronet, cousin to Lord X----, and related to the Y---- family, had
angered all his relatives by marrying a very silly pretty young woman,
who kept a ladies'-school at Canterbury. She had six hundred pounds
to her fortune, which the Captain laid out in the purchase of a sweet
travelling-carriage and dressing-case for himself; and going abroad with
his lady, spent several years in the principal prisons of Europe, in one
of which he died. His wife and daughter were meantime supported by the
contributions of Mrs. Jemima Biggs, who still kept the ladies'-school.
At last a dear old relative--such a one as one reads of in
romances--died and left seven thousand pounds apiece to the two sisters,
whereupon the elder gave up schooling and retired to London; and the
younger managed to live with some comfort and decency at Brussels,
upon two hundred and ten pounds per annum. Mrs. Gorgon never touched
a shilling of her capital, for the very good reason that it was placed
entirely out of her reach; so that when she died, her daughter found
herself in possession of a sum of money that is not always to be met
with in this world.
Her aunt the baronet's lady, and her aunt the ex-schoolmistress, both
wrote very pressing invitations to her, and she resided with each for
six months after her arrival in England. Now, for a second time, she had
come to Mrs. Biggs, Caroline Place, Mecklenburgh Square. It was under
the roof of that respectable old lady that John Perkins, Esquire, being
invited to take tea, wooed and won Miss Gorgon.
Having thus described the circumstances of Miss Gorgon's life, let us
pass for a moment from that young lady, and lift up the veil of mystery
which envelopes the deeds and character of Perkins.
Perkins, too, was an orphan; and he and his Lucy, of summer evenings,
when Sol descending lingered fondly yet about the minarets of the
Foundling, and gilded the grassplots of Mecklenburgh Square--Perkins,
I say, and Lucy would often sit together in the summer-house of that
pleasure-ground, and muse upon the strange coincidences of their life.
Lucy was motherless and fatherless; so too was Perkins. If Perkins was
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Produced by Carla Foust 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
Some of the spellings and hyphenations in the original are unusual; they
have not been changed. Minor punctuation errors have been corrected
without notice. A few obvious typographical errors have been corrected,
and they are listed at the end of this book.
STARLIGHT RANCH
AND
OTHER STORIES OF ARMY
LIFE ON THE FRONTIER.
BY
CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.,
AUTHOR OF
"MARION'S FAITH," "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER," ETC.
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
1891.
Copyright, 1890, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
STARLIGHT RANCH 7
WELL WON; OR, FROM THE PLAINS TO "THE POINT" 40
FROM "THE POINT" TO THE PLAINS 116
THE WORST MAN IN THE TROOP 201
VAN 234
STARLIGHT RANCH.
We were crouching round the bivouac fire, for the night was chill, and
we were yet high up along the summit of the great range. We had been
scouting through the mountains for ten days, steadily working southward,
and, though far from our own station, our supplies were abundant, and it
was our leader's purpose to make a clean sweep of the line from old
Sandy to the Salado, and fully settle the question as to whether the
renegade Apaches had betaken themselves, as was possible, to the heights
of the Matitzal, or had made a break for their old haunts in the Tonto
Basin or along the foot-hills of the Black Mesa to the east. Strong
scouting-parties had gone thitherward, too, for "the Chief" was bound to
bring these Tontos to terms; but our orders were explicit: "Thoroughly
scout the east face of the Matitzal." We had capital Indian allies with
us. Their eyes were keen, their legs tireless, and there had been bad
blood between them and the tribe now broken away from the reservation.
They asked nothing better than a chance to shoot and kill them; so we
could feel well assured that if "Tonto sign" appeared anywhere along our
path it would instantly be reported. But now we were south of the
confluence of Tonto Creek and the Wild Rye, and our scouts declared that
beyond that point was the territory of the White Mountain Apaches,
where we would not be likely to find the renegades.
East of us, as we lay there in the sheltered nook whence the glare of
our fire could not be seen, lay the deep valley of the Tonto brawling
along its rocky bed on the way to join the Salado, a few short marches
farther south. Beyond it, though we could not see them now, the peaks
and "buttes" of the Sierra Ancha rolled up as massive foot-hills to the
Mogollon. All through there our scouting-parties had hitherto been able
to find Indians whenever they really wanted to. There were some officers
who couldn't find the Creek itself if they thought Apaches lurked along
its bank, and of such, some of us thought, was our leader.
In the dim twilight only a while before I had heard our chief packer
exchanging confidences with one of the sergeants,--
"I tell you, Harry, if the old man were trying to steer clear of all
possibility of finding these Tontos, he couldn't have followed a better
track than ours has been. And he made it, too; did you notice? Every
time the scouts tried to work out to the left he would herd them all
back--up-hill."
"We never did think the lieutenant had any too much sand," answered the
sergeant, grimly; "but any man with half an eye can see that orders to
thoroughly scout the east face of a range does not mean keep on top of
it as we've been doing. Why, in two more marches we'll be beyond their
stamping-ground entirely, and then it's only a slide down the west face
to bring us to those ranches in the Sandy Valley. Ever seen them?"
"No. I've never been this far down; but what do you want to bet that
_that's_ what the lieutenant is aiming at? He wants to get a look at
that pretty girl all the fellows at Fort Phoenix are talking about."
"Dam'd old gray-haired rip! It would be just like him. With a wife and
kids up at Sandy too."
There were officers in the party, junior in years of life and years of
service to the gray-headed subaltern whom some odd fate had assigned to
the command of this detachment, nearly two complete "troops" of cavalry
with a pack-train of sturdy little mules to match. We all knew that, as
organized, one of our favorite captains had been assigned the command,
and that between "the Chief," as we called our general, and him a
perfect understanding existed as to just how thorough and searching this
scout should be. The general himself came down to Sandy to superintend
the start of the various commands, and rode away after a long interview
with our good old colonel, and after seeing the two parties destined for
the Black Mesa and the Tonto Basin well on their way. We were to move at
nightfall the following day, and within an hour of the time of starting
a courier rode in from Prescott with despatches (it was before our
military telegraph line was built), and the commander of the
division--the superior of our Arizona chief--ordered Captain Tanner to
repair at once to San Francisco as witness before an important
court-martial. A groan went up from more than one of us when we heard
the news, for it meant nothing less than that the command of the most
important expedition of all would now devolve upon the senior first
lieutenant, Gleason; and so much did it worry Mr. Blake, his junior by
several files, that he went at once to Colonel Pelham, and begged to be
relieved from duty with that column and ordered to overtake one of the
others. The colonel, of course, would listen to nothing of the kind, and
to Gleason's immense and evident gratification we were marched forth
under his command. There had been no friction, however. Despite his gray
beard, Gleason was not an old man, and he really strove to be courteous
and conciliatory to his officers,--he was always considerate towards his
men; but by the time we had been out ten days, having accomplished
nothing, most of us were thoroughly disgusted. Some few ventured to
remonstrate. Angry words passed between the commander and Mr. Blake, and
on the night on which our story begins there was throughout the command
a feeling that we were simply being trifled with.
The chat between our chief packer and Sergeant Merrick ceased instantly
as I came forward and passed them on the way to look over the herd guard
of the little battalion, but it set me to thinking. This was not the
first that the officers of the Sandy garrison had heard of those two new
"ranches" established within the year down in the hot but fertile
valley, and not more than four hours' easy gallop from Fort Phoenix,
where a couple of troops of "Ours" were stationed. The people who had so
confidently planted themselves there were evidently well to do, and they
brought with them a good-sized retinue of ranch- and herdsmen,--mainly
Mexicans,--plenty of "stock," and a complete "camp outfit," which served
them well until they could raise the adobe walls and finish their
homesteads. Curiosity led occasional parties of officers or enlisted
men to spend a day in saddle and thus to visit these enterprising
neighbors. Such parties were always civilly received, invited to
dismount, and soon to take a bite of luncheon with the proprietors,
while their horses were promptly led away, unsaddled, rubbed down, and
at the proper time fed and watered. The officers, of course, had
introduced themselves and proffered the hospitality and assistance of
the fort. The proprietors had expressed all proper appreciation, and
declared that if anything should happen to be needed they would be sure
to call; but they were too busy, they explained, to make social visits.
They were hard at work, as the gentlemen could see, getting up their
houses and their corrals, for, as one of them expressed it, "We've come
to stay." There were three of these pioneers; two of them, brothers
evidently, gave the name of Crocker. The third, a tall, swarthy,
all-over-frontiersman, was introduced by the others as Mr. Burnham.
Subsequent investigations led to the fact that Burnham was first cousin
to the Crock
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The Lost and Hostile Gospels
An Essay
On the Toledoth Jeschu, and the Petrine and Pauline Gospels of the First
Three Centuries of Which Fragments Remain.
By
Rev. S. Baring-Gould, M.A.
Author of "The Origin and Development of Religious Belief," "Legendary
Lives of the Old Testament Characters." Etc.
Williams and Norgate
London, Edinburgh
1874
CONTENTS
Preface.
Part I. The Jewish Anti-Gospels.
I. The Silence Of Josephus.
II. The Cause Of The Silence Of Josephus.
III. The Jew Of Celsus.
IV. The Talmud.
V. The Counter-Gospels.
VI. The First Toledoth Jeschu.
VII. The Second Toledoth Jeschu.
Part II. The Lost Petrine Gospels.
I. The Gospel Of The Hebrews.
1. The Fragments extant.
2. Doubtful Fragments.
3. The Origin of the Gospel of the Hebrews.
II. The Clementine Gospel.
III. The Gospel Of St. Peter.
IV. The Gospel Of The Egyptians.
Part III. The Lost Pauline Gospels.
I. The Gospel Of The Lord.
II. The Gospel Of Truth.
III. The Gospel Of Eve.
IV. The Gospel Of Perfection.
V. The Gospel Of St. Philip.
VI
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Produced by David Edwards, Diane Monico, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from scans of public domain material
produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
A
LIKELY STORY
BY
W. D. HOWELLS.
HARPER'S
BLACK & WHITE
SERIES
A LIKELY STORY
[Illustration: "THE MOST EXCITING PART."]
A LIKELY STORY
Farce
BY
W. D. HOWELLS
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HARPER AND BROTHERS
1894
Harper's "Black and White" Series.
Illustrated. 32mo, Cloth, 50 cents each.
_LATEST ISSUES:_
FIVE O'CLOCK TEA. Farce. By W. D. Howells.
THE MOUSE-TRAP. Farce. By W. D. Howells.
A LIKELY STORY. Farce. By W. D. Howells.
THIS PICTURE AND THAT. A Comedy. By Brander Matthews.
TRAVELS IN AMERICA 100 YEARS AGO. By Thomas Twining.
MY YEAR IN A LOG CABIN. By William Dean Howells.
EVENING DRESS. A Farce. By William Dean Howells.
THE WORK OF WASHINGTON IRVING. By Charles Dudley Warner.
EDWIN BOOTH. By Laurence Hutton.
PHILLIPS BROOKS. By Rev. Arthur Brooks, D.D.
THE DECISION OF THE COURT. A Comedy. By Brander Matthews.
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. By John White Chadwick.
THE UNEXPECTED GUESTS. A Farce. By William Dean Howells.
SLAVERY AND THE SLAVE TRADE IN AFRICA. By Henry M. Stanley.
THE RIVALS. By Francois Coppee.
WHITTIER: NOTES OF HIS LIFE AND OF HIS FRIENDSHIPS. By Annie
Fields.
THE JAPANESE BRIDE. By Naomi Tamura.
GILES COREY, YEOMAN. By Mary E. Wilkins.
COFFEE AND REPARTEE. By John Kendrick Bangs.
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.
_For sale by all booksellers, or will be sent by the publishers,
postage prepaid, on receipt of price._
Copyright, 1894, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
Copyright, 1885, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
Copyright, 1885, by W. D. HOWELLS.
_All rights reserved._
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I MR. AND MRS. WILLIS CAMPBELL 7
II MR. WELLING; MR. CAMPBELL 29
III MRS. CAMPBELL; MR. WELLING; MR. CAMPBELL 34
IV JANE; MRS. CAMPBELL; WELLING; CAMPBELL 39
V MRS. CAMPBELL; WELLING; CAMPBELL 41
VI JANE; MRS. CAMPBELL; WELLING; CAMPBELL 43
VII MRS. CAMPBELL; WELLING; CAMPBELL 44
VIII MISS RICE, MISS GREENWAY, and the OTHERS 48
IX MISS GREENWAY; MR. WELLING 50
X MISS RICE; then MR. and MRS. CAMPBELL, and the OTHERS 53
ILLUSTRATIONS
"THE MOST EXCITING PART OF IT" _Frontispiece_
MR. WELLING EXPLAINS _Facing page 52_
A LIKELY STORY
I
_MR. AND MRS. WILLIS CAMPBELL_
Mrs. Campbell: "Now this, I think, is the most exciting part of the
whole affair, and the pleasantest." She is seated at breakfast in her
cottage at Summering-by-the-Sea. A heap of letters of various stylish
shapes, colors, and superscriptions lies beside her plate, and
irregularly straggles about among the coffee-service. Vis-a-vis with her
sits Mr. Campbell behind a newspaper. "How prompt they are! Why, I
didn't expect to get half so many answers yet. But that shows that where
people have nothing to do _but_ attend to their social duties they are
always prompt--even the men; women, of course, reply early anyway, and
you don't really care for them; but in town the men seem to put it off
till the very last moment, and then some of them call when it's over to
excuse themselves for not having come after accepting. It really makes
you wish for a leisure class. It's only
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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
Vol. 6
1782 (Written), 1845 (Revised)
Transcriber's Note
This is the sixth volume of the six volumes of Edward Gibbon's History
Of The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire. If you find any errors
please feel free to notify me of them. I want to make this the best
etext edition possible for both scholars and the general public. I
would like to thank those who have helped in making this text better.
Especially Dale R. Fredrickson who has hand entered the Greek characters
in the footnotes and who has suggested retaining the conjoined ae
character in the text. [email protected] and [email protected] are my
email addresses for now. Please feel free to send me your comments and I
hope you enjoy this.
David Reed
Chapter LIX: The Crusades.--Part I.
Preservation Of The Greek Empire.--Numbers, Passage, And
Event, Of The Second And Third Crusades.--St. Bernard.--
Reign Of Saladin In Egypt And Syria.--His Conquest Of
Jerusalem.--Naval Crusades.--Richard The First Of England.--
Pope Innocent The Third; And The Fourth And Fifth Crusades.--
The Emperor Frederic The Second.--Louis The Ninth Of
France; And The Two Last Crusades.--Expulsion Of The Latins
Or Franks By The Mamelukes.
In a style less grave than that of history, I should perhaps compare the
emperor Alexius [1] to the jackal, who is said to follow the steps, and
to devour the leavings, of the lion. Whatever had been his fears and
toils in the passage of the first crusade, they were amply recompensed
by the subsequent benefits which he derived from the exploits of the
Franks. His dexterity and vigilance secured their first conquest of
Nice; and from this threatening station the Turks were compelled to
evacuate the neighborhood of Constantinople. While the crusaders, with
blind valor, advanced into the midland countries of Asia, the crafty
Greek improved the favorable occasion when the emirs of the sea-coast
were recalled to the standard of the sultan. The Turks were driven from
the Isles of Rhodes and Chios: the cities of Ephesus and Smyrna, of
Sardes, Philadelphia, and Laodicea, were restored to the empire, which
Alexius enlarged from the Hellespont to the banks of the Maeander, and
the rocky shores of Pamphylia. The churches resumed their splendor: the
towns were rebuilt and fortified; and the desert country was peopled
with colonies of Christians, who were gently removed from the more
distant and dangerous frontier. In these paternal cares, we may forgive
Alexius, if he forgot the deliverance of the holy sepulchre; but, by
the Latins, he was stigmatized with the foul reproach of treason and
desertion. They had sworn fidelity and obedience to his throne; but _he_
had promised to assist their enterprise in person, or, at least, with
his troops and treasures: his base retreat dissolved their obligations;
and the sword, which had been the instrument of their victory, was the
pledge and title of their just independence. It does not appear that
the emperor attempted to revive his obsolete claims over the kingdom of
Jerusalem; [2] but the borders of Cilicia and Syria were more recent in
his possession, and more accessible to his arms. The great army of the
crusaders was annihilated or dispersed; the principality of Antioch
was left without a head, by the surprise and captivity of Bohemond; his
ransom had oppressed him with a heavy debt; and his Norman followers
were insufficient to repel the hostilities of the Greeks and Turks. In
this distress, Bohemond embraced a magnanimous resolution, of leaving
the defence of Antioch to his kinsman, the faithful Tancred; of arming
the West against the Byzantine empire; and of executing the design which
he inherited from the lessons and example of his father Guiscard.
His embarkation was clandestine: and, if we may credit a tale of the
princess Anne, he passed the hostile sea closely secreted in a coffin.
[3] But his reception in France was dignified by the public applause, and
his marriage with the king's daughter: his return was glorious, since
the bravest spirits of the age
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THE STORY OF JOHN G. PATON
Or Thirty Years Among South Sea Cannibals
by
REV. JAMES PATON, B.A.
Illustrated
A. L. Burt Company,Publishers, New York
PREFACE.
EVER since the story of my brother's life first appeared (January 1889)
it has been constantly pressed upon me that a YOUNG FOLKS' EDITION would
be highly prized. The Autobiography has therefore been re-cast and
illustrated, in the hope and prayer that the Lord will use it to inspire
the Boys and Girls of Christendom with a wholehearted enthusiasm for the
Conversion of the Heathen World to Jesus Christ.
A few fresh incidents have been introduced; the whole contents have been
rearranged to suit a new class of readers; and the service of a gifted
Artist has been employed, to make the book every way attractive to the
young. For _full_ details as to the Missionary's work and life, the
COMPLETE EDITION must still of course be referred to.
JAMES PATON.
GLASGOW, _Sept,_ 1892.
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
1. Our Cottage Home
2. Our Forebears
3. Consecrated Parents
4. School Days
5. Leaving the Old Home
6. Early Struggles
7. A City Missionary
8. Glasgow Experiences
9. A Foreign Missionary
10. To the New Hebrides
11. First Impressions of Heathendom
12. Breaking Ground on Tanna
13. Pioneers in the New Hebrides
14. The Great Bereavement
15. At Home with Cannibals
16. Superstitions and Cruelties
17. Streaks of Dawn amidst Deeds of Darkness
18. The Visit of H.M.S. "Cordelia"
19. "Noble Old Abraham"
20. A Typical South Sea Trader
21. Under Axe and Musket
22. A Native Saint and Martyr
23. Building and Printing for God
24. Heathen Dance and Sham Fight
25. Cannibals at Work
26. The Defying of Nahak
27. A Perilous Pilgrimage
28. The Plague of Measles
29. Attacked with Clubs
30. Kowia
31. The Martyrdom of the Gordons
32. Shadows Deepening on Tanna
33. The Visit of the Commodore
34. The War Chiefs in Council
35. Under Knife and Tomahawk
36. The Beginning of the End
37. Five Hours in a Canoe
38. A Race for Life
39. Faint yet Pursuing
40. Waiting at Kwamera
41. The Last Awful Night
42. "Sail O! Sail O!"
43. Farewell to Tanna
44. The Floating of the "Dayspring"
45. A Shipping Company for Jesus
46. Australian Incidents
47. Amongst Squatters and Diggers
48. John Gilpin in the Bush
49. The Aborigines of Australia
50. Nora
51. Back to Scotland
52. Tour through the Old Country
53. Marriage and Farewell
54. First Peep at the "Dayspring"
55. The French in the Pacific
56. The Gospel and Gunpowder
57. A Plea for Tanna
58. Our New Home on Aniwa
59. House-Building for God
60. A City of God
61. The Religion of Revenge
62. First Fruits on Aniwa
63. Traditions and Customs
64. Nelwang's Elopement
65. The Christ-Spirit at Work
66. The Sinking of the Well
67. Rain from Below
68. The Old Chief's Sermon
69. The First Book and the New Eyes
70. A Roof-Tree for Jesus
71. "Knock the Tevil out!"
72. The Conversion of Youwili
73. First Communion on Aniwa
74. The New Social Order
75. The Orphans and their Biscuits
76. The Finger-Posts of God
77. The Gospel in Living Capitals
78. The Death of Namakei
79. Christianity and Cocoa-Nuts
80. Nerwa's Beautiful Farewell
81. Ruwawa
82. Litsi
83. The Conversion of Nasi
84. The Appeal of Lamu
85. Wanted! A Steam Auxiliary
86. My Campaign in Ireland
87. Scotland's Free-will Offerings
88. England's Open Door
89. Farewell Scenes
90. Welcome to Victoria and Aniwa
91. Good News from Tanna, 1891
THE STORY OF JOHN G. PATON.
CHAPTER I.
OUR COTTAGE HOME.
MY early days were all spent in the beautiful county of Dumfries, which
Scotch folks call the Queen of the South. There, in a small cottage, on
the farm of Braehead, in the parish of Kirkmahoe, I was born on the 24th
May, 1824. My father, James Paton, was a stocking manufacturer in a
small way; and he and his young wife, Janet Jardine Rogerson, lived on
terms of warm personal friendship with the "gentleman farmer," so they
gave me his son's name, John _Gibson_; and the curly-haired child of the
cottage was soon able to toddle across to the mansion, and became a
great pet of the lady there. On my visit to Scotland in 1884 I drove out
to Braehead; but we found no cottage, nor trace of a cottage, and amused
ourselves by supposing that we could discover by the rising of the
grassy mound, the outline where the foundations once had been!
While yet a mere child, five years or so of age, my parents took me to a
new home in the ancient village of Torthorwald, about four and a quarter
miles from Dumfries, on the road to Lockerbie. At that time, say 1830,
Torthorwald was a busy and thriving village, and comparatively populous,
with its cottars and crofters, large farmers and small farmers, weavers
and shoemakers, doggers and coopers, blacksmiths and tailors. Fifty-five
years later, when I visited the scenes of my youth, the village proper
was extinct, except for five thatched cottages where the lingering
patriarchs were permitted to die slowly away,--soon they too would be
swept into the large farms, and their garden plots plowed over, like
sixty or seventy others that had been blotted out!
From the Bank Hill, close above our village, and accessible in a walk of
fifteen minutes, a view opens to the eye which, despite several easily
understood prejudices of mine that may discount any opinion that I
offer, still appears to me well worth seeing amongst all the beauties of
Scotland. At your feet lay a thriving village, every cottage sitting in
its own plot of garden, and sending up its blue cloud of "peat reek,"
which never somehow seemed to pollute the blessed air; and after all has
been said or sung, a beautifully situated village of healthy and happy
homes for God's children is surely the finest feature in every
landscape! Looking from the Bank Hill on a summer day, Dumfries with its
spires shone so conspicuous that you could have believed it not more
than two miles away; the splendid sweeping vale through which Nith rolls
to Solway, lay all before the naked eye, beautiful with village spires,
mansion houses, and white shining farms; the Galloway hills, gloomy and
far-tumbling, bounded the forward view, while to the left rose Criffel,
cloud-capped and majestic; then the white sands of Solway, with tides
swifter than horsemen; and finally the eye rested joyfully upon the
hills of Cumberland, and noticed with glee the blue curling smoke from
its villages on the southern Solway shores.
There, amid this wholesome and breezy village life, our dear parents
found their home for the long period of forty years. There too were born
to them eight additional children, making in all a family of five sons
and six daughters. Theirs was the first of the thatched cottages on the
left, past the "miller's house," going up the "village gate," with a
small garden in front of it, and a large garden across the road; and it
is one of the few still lingering to show to a new generation what the
homes of their fathers were. The architect who planned that cottage had
no ideas of art, but a fine eye for durability! It consists at present
of three, but originally of four, pairs of "oak couples" (Scottice
_kipples_) planted like solid trees in the ground at equal intervals,
and gently sloped inwards till they meet or are "coupled" at the ridge,
this coupling being managed not by rusty iron, but by great solid pins
of oak. A roof of oaken wattles was laid across these, till within
eleven or twelve feet of the ground, and from the ground upwards a stone
wall was raised, as perpendicular as was found practicable, towards
these overhang-wattles, this wall being roughly "pointed" with sand and
clay and lime. Now into and upon the roof was woven and intertwisted a
covering of thatch, that defied all winds and weathers, and that made
the cottage marvelously cozy,--being renewed year by year, and never
allowed to remain in disrepair at any season. But the beauty of the
construction was and is its durability, or rather the permanence of its
oaken ribs! There they stand, after probably not less than four
centuries, japanned with "peat reek" till they are literally shining, so
hard that no ordinary nail can be driven into them, and perfectly
capable of service for four centuries more on the same conditions. The
walls are quite modern, having all been rebuilt in my father's time,
except only the few great foundation boulders, piled around the oaken
couples; and parts of the roofing also may plead guilty to having found
its way thither only in recent days; but the architect's one idea
survives, baffling time and change--the ribs and rafters of oak.
Our home consisted of a "but" and a "ben" and a "mid room," or chamber,
called the "closet." The one end was my mother's domain, and served all
the purposes of dining-room and kitchen and parlor, besides containing
two large wooden erections, called by our Scotch peasantry "box beds";
not holes in the wall, as in cities, but grand, big, airy beds, adorned
with many- counterpanes, and hung with natty curtains, showing
the skill of the mistress of the house. The other end was my father's
workshop, filled with five or six "stocking-frames," whirring with the
constant action of five or six pairs of busy hands and feet, and
producing right genuine hosiery for the merchants at Hawick and
Dumfries. The "closet" was a very small apartment betwixt the other two,
having room only for a bed, a little table and a chair, with a
diminutive window shedding diminutive light on the scene. This was the
Sanctuary of that cottage home. Thither daily, and oftentimes a day,
generally after each meal, we saw our father retire, and "shut to the
door"; and we children got to understand by a sort of spiritual instinct
(for the thing was too sacred to be talked about) that prayers were
being poured out there for us, as of old by the High Priest within the
veil in the Most Holy Place. We occasionally heard the pathetic echoes
of a trembling voice pleading as if for life, and we learned to slip out
and in past that door on tiptoe, not to disturb the holy colloquy. The
outside world might not know, but we knew, whence came that happy light
as of a new-born smile that always was dawning on my father's face: it
was a reflection from the Divine Presence, in the consciousness of which
he lived. Never, in temple or cathedral, on mountain or in glen, can I
hope to feel that the Lord God is more near, more visibly walking and
talking with men, than under that humble cottage roof of thatch and
oaken wattles. Though everything else in religion were by some
unthinkable catastrophe to be swept out of memory, or blotted from my
understanding, my soul would wander back to those early scenes, and shut
itself up once again in that Sanctuary Closet, and, hearing still the
echoes of those cries to God, would hurl back all doubt with the
victorious appeal, "He walked with God, why may not I?"
CHAPTER II.
OUR FOREBEARS.
A FEW notes had better here be given as to our "Forebears," the kind of
stock from which my father and mother sprang. My father's mother, Janet
Murray, claimed to be descended from a Galloway family that fought and
suffered for Christ's Crown and Covenant in Scotland's "killing time,"
and was herself a woman of a pronouncedly religious development. Her
husband, our grandfather, William Paton, had passed through a roving and
romantic career, before he settled down to be a douce deacon of the
weavers of Dumfries, like his father before him.
Forced by a press-gang to serve on board a British man-of-war, he was
taken prisoner by the French, and thereafter placed under Paul Jones,
the pirate of the seas, and bore to his dying day the mark of a slash
from the captain's sword across his shoulder for some slight disrespect
or offense. Determining with two others to escape, the three were hotly
pursued by Paul Jones's men. One, who could swim but little, was shot,
and had to be cut adrift by the other two, who in the darkness swam into
a cave and managed to evade for two nights and a day the rage of their
pursuers. My grandfather, being young and gentle and yellow-haired,
persuaded some kind heart to rig him out in female attire, and in this
costume escaped the attentions of the press-gang more than once; till,
after many hardships, he bargained with the captain of a coal sloop to
stow him away amongst his black diamonds; and thus, in due time, he
found his way home to Dumfries, where he tackled bravely and wisely the
duties of husband, father, and citizen for the remainder of his days.
The smack of the sea about the stories of his youth gave zest to the
talks round their quiet fireside, and that, again, was seasoned by the
warm Evangelical spirit of his Covenanting wife, her lips "dropping
grace."
On the other side, my mother, Janet Rogerson, had for parents a father
and mother of the Annandale stock. William Rogerson, her father, was one
of many brothers, all men of uncommon strength and great force of
character, quite worthy of the Border Rievers of an earlier day. Indeed,
it was in some such way that he secured his wife, though the dear old
lady in after days was chary about telling the story. She was a girl of
good position, the ward of two unscrupulous uncles who had charge of her
small estate, near Langholm; and while attending some boarding school
she fell devotedly in love with the tall, fair-haired, gallant young
blacksmith, William Rogerson. Her guardians, doubtless very properly,
objected to the "connection"; but our young Lochinvar, with his six or
seven stalwart brothers and other trusty "lads," all mounted, and with
some ready tools in case of need, went boldly and claimed his bride, and
she, willingly mounting at his side, was borne off in the light of open
day, joyously married, and took possession of her "but and ben," as the
mistress of the blacksmith's castle.
Janet Jardine bowed her neck to the self-chosen yoke, with the light of
a supreme affection in her heart, and showed in her gentler ways, her
love of books, her fine accomplishments with the needle, and her general
air of ladyhood, that her lot had once been cast in easier, but not
necessarily happier, ways. Her blacksmith lover proved not unworthy of
his lady bride, and in old age found for her a quiet and modest home,
the fruit of years of toil and hopeful thrift, their own little
property, in which they rested and waited a happy end. Amongst those who
at last wept by her grave stood, amidst many sons and daughters, her son
the Rev. James J. Rogerson, clergyman of the Church of England, who, for
many years thereafter, and till quite recently, was spared to occupy a
distinguished position at ancient Shrewsbury and has left behind him
there an honored and beloved name.
From such a home came our mother, Janet Jardine Rogerson, a
bright-hearted, high-spirited, patient-toiling, and altogether heroic
little woman; who, for about forty-three years, made and kept such a
wholesome, independent, God-fearing, and self-reliant life for her
family of five sons and six daughters, as constrains me, when I look
back on it now, in the light of all I have since seen and known of
others far differently situated, almost to worship her memory. She had
gone with her high spirits and breezy disposition to gladden as their
companion, the quiet abode of some grand or great-grand-uncle and aunt,
familiarly named in all that Dalswinton neighborhood, "Old Adam and
Eve." Their house was on the outskirts of the moor, and life for the
young girl there had not probably too much excitement. But one thing had
arrested her attention. She had noticed that
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FIFTEENTH THOUSAND.
THE
EXPLORING EXPEDITION
TO THE
ROCKY MOUNTAINS,
OREGON AND CALIFORNIA,
BY BREVET COL. J.C. FREMONT.
TO WHICH IS ADDED A DESCRIPTION OF THE
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF CALIFORNIA.
WITH RECENT NOTICES OF
THE GOLD REGION
FROM THE LATEST AND MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES.
1852
* * * * *
PREFACE.
No work has appeared from the American press within the past few years
better calculated to interest the community at large than Colonel J.C.
Fremont's Narrative of his Exploring Expedition to the Rocky Mountains,
Oregon, and North California, undertaken by the orders of the United
States government.
Eminently qualified for the task assigned him
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[Illustration: _The Author._
_From a Photograph by Bingham, (Paris)_]
SOYER'S
CULINARY CAMPAIGN.
BEING HISTORICAL REMINISCENCES
OF THE LATE WAR.
WITH
THE PLAIN ART OF COOKERY
FOR
MILITARY AND CIVIL INSTITUTIONS, THE ARMY, NAVY,
PUBLIC, ETC. ETC.
BY ALEXIS SOYER,
AUTHOR OF "THE MODERN HOUSEWIFE," "SHILLING COOKERY FOR THE PEOPLE,"
ETC.
LONDON:
G. ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET.
NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET.
1857.
[_The right of translation is reserved._]
LONDON:
SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS,
CHANDOS STREET.
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD PANMURE, K.T.
ETC. ETC. ETC.
MY LORD,
Grateful, indeed, do I feel for the unlimited confidence reposed in me
by your Lordship during my late Mission in the East, and especially so
for your kind condescension in permitting me to dedicate to your
Lordship this work, which at once puts the final seal to your Lordship's
appreciation of my humble services.
With the most profound respect,
I have the honour to remain,
My Lord,
Your Lordship's most humble and dutiful Servant,
ALEXIS SOYER.
PREFACE.
The Author of this work begs to inform his readers that his principal
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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.
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THE AMATEUR CRACKSMAN
BY
E. W. HORNUNG
TO
A. C. D.
THIS FORM OF FLATTERY
THE AMATEUR CRACKSMAN
CONTENTS
THE IDES OF MARCH
A COSTUME PIECE
GENTLEMEN AND PLAYERS
LE PREMIER PAS
WILFUL MURDER
NINE POINTS OF THE LAW
THE RETURN MATCH
THE GIFT OF THE EMPEROR
THE IDES OF MARCH
I
It was half-past twelve when I returned to the Albany as a last
desperate resort. The scene of my disaster was much as I had left it.
The baccarat-counters still strewed the table, with the empty glasses
and the loaded ash-trays. A window had been opened to let the smoke
out, and was letting in the fog instead. Raffles himself had merely
discarded his dining jacket for one of his innumerable blazers. Yet he
arched his eyebrows as though I had dragged him from his bed.
"Forgotten something?" said he, when he saw me on his mat.
"No," said I, pushing past him without ceremony. And I led the way
into his room with an impudence amazing to myself.
"Not come back for your revenge, have you? Because I'm afraid I can't
give it to you single-handed. I was sorry myself that the others--"
We were face to face by his fireside, and I cut him short.
"Raffles," said I, "you may well be surprised at my coming back in this
way and at this hour. I hardly know
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[Illustration: TAINE, DANTE, GOETHE, CERVANTES]
THE BEST
_of the_
WORLD'S CLASSICS
RESTRICTED TO PROSE
HENRY CABOT LODGE
_Editor-in-Chief_
FRANCIS W. HALSEY
_Associate Editor_
With an Introduction, Biographical
and Explanatory Notes, etc.
IN TEN VOLUMES
Vol. VIII
CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
NEW YORK AND LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
* * * * *
The Best of the World's Classics
VOL. VIII
CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
* * * * *
CONTENTS
VOL. VIII--CONTINENTAL EUROPE--II
FRANCE--CONTINUED
1805-1909
ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE--(Born in 1805, died in 1859.)
The Tyranny of the American Majority.
(From Chapter XV of "Democracy in America." Translated by Henry Reeve)
ALFRED DE MUSSET--(Born in 1810, died in 1857.)
Titian's Son After a Night at Play.
(From "Titian's Son." Translated by Erie Arthur Bell)
THEOPHILE GAUTIER--(Born in 1811, died in 1872.)
Pharaoh's Entry into Thebes.
(From the "Romance of a Mummy." Translated by M. Young)
GUSTAVE FLAUBERT--(Born in 1821, died in 1880.)
Yonville and Its People.
(From Part II of "Madame Bovary." Translated by Eleanor Marx-Aveling)
JOSEPH ERNEST RENAN--(Born in 1823, died in 1892.)
An Empire in Robust Youth.
(From the "History of the Origins of Christianity.")
HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE--(Born in 1828, died in 1893.)
I Thackeray as a Satirist.
(From Book V, Chapter II, of the "History of English Literature."
Translated by H. van Laun)
II When the King Got up for the Day.
(From "The Ancient Regime." Translated by John Durand)
EMILE ZOLA--(Born in 1840, died in 1902.)
Glimpses of Napoleon III in Time of War.
(From "La Debacle." Translated by E. P. Robins)
ALPHONSE DAUDET--(Born in 1840, died in 1897.)
I A Great Man's Widow.
(From "Artists' Wives." Translated by Laura Ensor)
II My First Dress Coat.
(From "Thirty Years of Paris." Translated by Laura Ensor)
GUY DE MAUPASSANT--(Born in 1850, died in 1893.)
Madame Jeanne's Last Days.
(From the last chapter of "A Life." Translated by Eric Arthur Bell)
GERMANY
1483-1859
MARTIN LUTHER--(Born in 1483, died in 1546.)
Some of His Table Talk and Sayings.
(From the "Table Talk.")
GOTTHOLD E. LESSING--(Born in 1729, died in 1781.)
I Poetry and Painting Compared.
(From the preface to the "Laocoon." Translated by E. C. Beasley and
Helen Zimmern)
II Of Suffering Held in Restraint.
(From Chapter I of the "Laocoon." Translated by Beasley and Zimmern)
JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE--(Born in 1749, died in 1832.)
I On First Reading Shakespeare.
(From "Wilhelm Meister." Translated by Thomas Carlyle)
II The Coronation of Joseph II.
(From Book XII of the "Autobiography." Translated by John Oxenford)
FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER--(Born in 1759, died in 1808.)
I The Battle of Lutzen.
(From the "History of the Thirty Years' War." Translated by A. J. W.
Morrison)
II Philip II and the Netherlands.
(From the introduction to the "History of the Revolt of the
Netherlands." Translated by Morrison)
WILHELM VON SCHLEGEL--(Born in 1767, died in 1845.)
Shakespeare's "Macbeth."
(From the "Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature." Translated by
John Black, revised by A. J. W. Morrison)
ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT--(Born in 1769, died in 1859.)
An Essay on Man.
(From his "General Review of Natural Phenomena." in Volume I of
"Cosmos." Translated by E. C. Otto and W. S. Dallas)
HEINRICH HEINE--(Born in 1799, died in 1856.)
Reminiscences of Napoleon.
(From Chapters VII, VIII and IX of "Travel Pictures." Translated by
Francis Storr)
ITALY
1254-1803
MARCO POLO--(Born in 1254, died in 1324.)
A Description of Japan.
(From the "Travels.")
DANTE ALIGHIERI--(Born in 1265, died in 1321.)
I That Long Descent Makes No Man Noble.
(From Book IV, Chapter XIV of "The Banquet." Translated by Katharine
Hillard)
II Of Beatrice and Her Death.
(From "The New Life." Translated by Charles Eliot Norton)
FRANCESCO PETRARCH--(Born in 1304, died in 1374.)
Of Good and Evil Fortune.
(From the "Treatise on the Remedies of Good and Bad Fortune.")
GIOVANNI BOCCACIO--(Born probably in 1313, died in 1375.)
The Patient Griselda.
(From the "Decameron.")
NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI--(Born in 1469, died in 1527.)
Ought Princes to Keep Their Promises?
(From Chapter XVIII of "The Prince.")
BENVENUTO CELLINI--(Born in 1500, died in 1571.)
The Casting of His "Perseus and Medusa."
(From the "Autobiography." Translated by William Roscoe)
GIORGIO VASARI--(Born in 1511, died in 1574.)
Of Raphael and His Early Death.
(From "The Lives of the Most Famous Painters, Sculptors and
Architects." Translated by Mrs. Jonathan Foster)
CASANOVA DE SEINGALT--(Born in 1725, died probably in 1803.)
His Interview with Frederick the Great.
(From the "Memoirs.")
OTHER COUNTRIES
1465-1909
DESIDERIUS ERASMUS--(Born in 1465, died in 1536.)
Specimens of His Wit and Wisdom.
(From various books)
MIGUEL DE CERVANTES--(Born in 1547, died in 1616.)
I The Beginnings of Don Quixote's Career.
(From "Don Quixote." Translated by John Jarvis)
II Of How Don Quixote Died.
(From "Don Quixote." Translated by John Jarvis)
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN--(Born in 1805, died in 1875.)
The Emperor's New Clothes.
(From the "Tales.")
IVAN SERGEYEVITCH TURGENEFF--(Born in 1818, died in 1883.)
Bazarov's Death.
(From "Fathers and Children." Translated by Constance Garnett)
HENRIK IBSEN--(Born in 1828, died in 1906.)
The Thought Child.
(From "The Pretenders." Translated by William Archer)
COUNT LEO TOLSTOY--(Born in 1828.)
Shakespeare Not a Great Genius.
(From "A Critical Essay on Shakespeare." Translated by V. Tchertkoff
and I. F. M.)
* * * * *
FRANCE (Continued)
1805-1909
ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE
Born in Paris in 1805, died in 1859; studied law, taking his
degree in 1826; traveled in Italy and Sicily; in 1831
visited the United States under a commission to study the
penitentiary system; returning published a book on the
subject which was crowned by the French Academy; from
private notes taken in America then wrote his masterpiece,
"Democracy in America," which secured his election to the
Academy in 1841; spent some years in public life and then
retired in order to travel and write.
THE TYRANNY OF THE AMERICAN MAJORITY[1]
I hold it to be an impious and execrable maxim that, politically
speaking, the people has a right to do whatever it pleases; and yet I
have asserted that all authority originates in the will of the
majority. Am I then in contradiction with myself?
[Footnote 1: From Chapter XV of "Democracy in America." Translated by
Henry Reeve.]
A general law, which bears the name of justice, has been made and
sanctioned not only by a majority of this or that people, but by a
majority of mankind. The rights of every people are consequently
confined within the limits of what is just. A nation may be considered
in the light of a jury which is empowered to represent society at
large and to apply the great and general law of justice. Ought such a
jury, which represents society, to have more power than the society in
which the law it applies originates?
When I refuse to obey an unjust law, I do not contest the right which
the majority has of commanding, but I simply appeal from the
sovereignty of the people to the sovereignty of mankind. It has been
asserted that a people can never entirely outstep the boundaries of
justice and of reason in those affairs which are more peculiarly its
own; and that consequently, full power may fearlessly be given to the
majority by which it is represented. But this language is that of a
slave.
A majority, taken collectively, may be regarded as a being whose
opinions, and most frequently whose interests are opposed to those of
another being, which is styled a minority. If it be admitted that a
man possessing absolute power may misuse that power by wronging his
adversaries, why should a majority not be liable to the same reproach?
Men are not apt to change their characters by agglomerating; nor does
their patience in the presence of obstacles increase with the
consciousness of their strength. And for these reasons I can never
willingly invest any number of my fellow creatures with that unlimited
authority which I should refuse to any one of them.
I do not think that it is possible to combine several principles in
the same government so as at the same time to maintain freedom and
really to oppose them to one another. The form of government which is
usually termed mixt has always appeared to me to be a mere chimera.
Accurately speaking, there is no such thing as a mixt government, with
the meaning usually given to that word; because in all communities
some one principle of action may be discovered which preponderates
over the others. England in the last century--which has been more
especially cited as an example of this form of government--was in
point of fact an essentially aristocratic state, altho it comprized
very powerful elements of democracy; for the laws and customs of the
country were such that the aristocracy could not but preponderate in
the end, and subject the direction of public affairs to its own will.
The error arose from too much attention being paid to the actual
struggle that was going on between the nobles and the people, without
considering the probable issue of the contest, which was really the
important point. When a community actually has a mixt government--that
is to say, when it is equally divided between two adverse
principles--it must either pass through a revolution or fall into
complete dissolution.
I am therefore of opinion that some one social power must always be
made to predominate over the others; but I think that liberty is
endangered when this power finds no obstacle which can <DW44> its
course, and force it to moderate its own vehemence.
Unlimited power is in itself a bad and dangerous thing. Human beings
are not competent to exercise it with discretion. God only can be
omnipotent, because His wisdom and His justice are always equal to His
power. But no power on earth is so worthy of honor for itself that I
would consent to admit its uncontrolled and all-predominant authority.
When I see that the right and the means of absolute command or of
reverential obedience to the right which it represents are conferred
on a people or upon a king, upon an aristocracy or a democracy, a
monarchy or a republic, I recognize the germ of tyranny; and I journey
onward to a land of more hopeful institutions.
In my opinion, the main evil of the present democratic institutions of
the United States does not arise, as is often asserted in Europe, from
their weakness, but from their irresistible strength. I am not so much
alarmed at the excessive liberty which reigns in that country as at
the very inadequate securities which exist against tyranny.
When an individual or a party is wronged in the United States, to whom
can he apply for redress? If to public opinion, public opinion
constitutes the majority; if to the legislature, it represents the
majority, and implicitly obeys its instructions; if to the executive
power, it is appointed by the majority, and is a passive tool in its
hands. The public troops consist of the majority under arms; the jury
is the majority invested with the right of hearing judicial cases; and
in certain cases, even the judges are elected by the majority. However
iniquitous or absurd the evil of which you complain may be, you must
submit to it as well as you can.
If, on the other hand, a legislative power could be so constituted as
to represent the majority without necessarily being the slave of its
passions, an executive so as to retain a certain degree of
uncontrolled authority, and a judiciary so as to remain independent of
the other two powers, a government would be formed which would still
be democratic, without incurring any risk of tyranny.
I do not say that there is a frequent use of tyranny in America at the
present day; but I maintain that no sure barrier is established
against it, and that the causes which mitigate the government are to
be found in the circumstances and the manners of the country more than
in its laws.
ALFRED DE MUSSET
Born in 1810, died in 1857; educated at the College of Henry
II in Paris; published "Tales of Spain and Italy," a volume
of verse, in 1829; followed by other collections of verse in
1831 and 1832; went to Italy in 1833 with George Sand, with
whom he quarreled in Venice and returned to France;
published "Confessions of a Child of the Century" in 1836;
wrote stories and plays as well as poems; elected to the
Academy in 1852.
TITIAN'S SON AFTER A NIGHT AT PLAY[2]
In the month of February of the year 1580 a young man was crossing the
Piazzeta at Venice at early dawn. His clothes were in disorder, his
cap, from which hung a beautiful scarlet feather, was pulled down over
his ears. He was walking with long strides toward the banks of the
Schiavoni, and his sword and cloak were dragging behind him, while
with a somewhat disdainful foot he picked his way among the fishermen
lying asleep on the ground. Having arrived at the bridge of Paille,
he stopt and looked around him. The moon was setting behind the
Giudecca and the dawn was gilding the Ducal Palace. From time to time
thick smoke or a brilliant light could be seen from some neighboring
palace. Planks, stones, enormous blocks of marble, and debris of every
kind obstructed the Canal of the Prisons. A recent fire had just
destroyed the home of a patrician which lined its banks. A volley of
sparks shot up from time to time, and by this sinister light an armed
soldier could be seen keeping watch in the midst of the ruins.
[Footnote 2: From De Musset's story, "Titian's Son." Translated for
this collection by Eric Arthur Bell. Titian's son, who was named
Pomponio, had been destined for the Church, but proving wasteful and
dissipated, his father caused the benefice intended for him to be
transferred to a nephew. Through the death of Titian's other son
Orazio, an artist of repute, who died soon after Titian and during the
same plague, Pomponio inherited the handsome fortune his father had
left and completely squandered it.]
Our young man, however, did not seem to be imprest either with this
spectacle of destruction or with the beauty of the sky, tinged with
the rosy colors of the dawning day. He looked for some time at the
horizon, as if to ease his tired eyes; but the brightness of the dawn
seemed to produce in him a disagreeable effect, for he wrapt himself
in his cloak and pursued his way at a run. He soon stopt again at the
door of a palace, where he knocked. A valet, holding a torch in his
hand, admitted him immediately. As he entered he turned round, and
casting one more glance at the sky, exclaimed, "By Bacchus! my
carnival has cost me dear."
This young man was called Pomponio Filippo Vecellio. He was the second
son of Titian, a youth full of spirit and imagination who had aroused
in his father the most
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ELEMENTARY THEOSOPHY
L. W. ROGERS
LOS ANGELES
THEOSOPHICAL BOOK CONCERN
1917
Copyright
By
L. W. Rogers
1917
PREFACE
To comprehend the significance of great world changes, before Time has
fully done his work, is difficult. While mighty events are still in
their formative period the future is obscure. But our inability to
outline the future cannot blind us to the unmistakable trend of the
evolutionary forces at work. One thing that is clear is that our boasted
Christian civilization is the theater in which has been staged the most
un-Christian war of recorded history and in which human atrocity has
reached a point that leaves us vaguely groping for a rational
explanation of it. Another obvious fact is that the more than twenty
nations involved have been forced into measures and methods before
unknown and which wholly transform the recognized function and powers of
governments. With these startling facts of religious and political
significance before us thoughtful people are beginning to ask if we are
not upon the threshold of a complete breaking down of modern
civilization and the birth of a new order of things, in which direct
government by the people throughout the entire world will be coincident
with the rise of a universal religion based on the brotherhood of man.
In such a time any contribution to current literature that will help to
clear the ground of misconceptions and to bring to the attention of
those interested in such things, that set of fundamental natural truths
known as theosophy, may perhaps be helpful. Whether or not the world is
about to recast its ethical code there can at least be no doubt that it
is eagerly seeking reliable evidence that we live after bodily death and
that it will welcome a hypothesis of immortality that is inherently
reasonable and therefore satisfies the intellect as well as the heart.
Those who are dissatisfied with the old answers to the riddle of
existence and demand that Faith and Reason shall walk hand in hand, may
find in the following pages some explanation of the puzzling things in
life--an explanation that disregards neither the intuitions of religion
nor the facts of science.
Of course no pretension is made of fully covering the ground. The book
is a student's presentation of some of the phases of theosophy as he
understands them. They are presented with no authority whatever, and are
merely an attempt to discuss in simple language some of the fundamental
truths about the human being. No claim is made to originality but it is
hoped that by putting the old truths in a somewhat different way, with
new illustrations and arguments, they may perhaps be seen from a new
viewpoint. The intention has been to present elementary theosophy simply
and clearly and in the language familiar to the ordinary newspaper
reader. All technical terms and expressions have been avoided and the
reader will not find a single foreign word in the book.
L. W. R.
CONTENTS
I. THEOSOPHY 9
II. THE IMMANENCE OF GOD 15
III. THE EVOLUTION OF THE SOUL 23
IV. LIFE AFTER BODILY DEATH 29
V. THE EVOLUTIONARY FIELD 43
VI. THE MECHANISM OF CONSCIOUSNESS 49
VII. DEATH 59
VIII. THE ASTRAL WORLD 69
IX. REBIRTH: ITS REASONABLENESS 103
X. REBIRTH: ITS JUSTICE 135
XI. REBIRTH: ITS NECESSITY 153
XII. WHY WE DO NOT REMEMBER 167
XIII. VICARIOUS ATONEMENT 181
XIV. THE FORCES WE GENERATE 187
XV. SUPERPHYSICAL EVOLUTION 205
CHAPTER I.
THEOSOPHY
Rediscovery is one of the methods of progress. Very much that we believe
to be original with us at the time of its discovery or invention proves
in time to have been known to earlier civilizations. The elevator, or
lift, is a very modern invention and we supposed it to be a natural
development of our civilization, with its intensive characteristics,
until an antiquarian startled us with the announcement that it was used
in Rome over two thousand years ago; not, of course, as we use it, but
for the same purpose, and involving the same principles. A half century
ago our scientific men were enthusiastic over the truths of evolution
that were being discovered and placed before western civilization. But
as we learn more and more of the thought and intellectual life
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Of The Injustice of Counterfeiting Books
by Immanuel Kant
[Transcriber note: This e-text edition of "Of the Injustice of
Counterfeiting Books" is, essentially, with some changes or
clarifications by the e-text preparer, based on a translation of this
essay, from German into English, that was published in 1798 in: Essays
and Treatises On Moral, Political and Various Philosophical Subjects,
by Immanuel Kant, M.R.A.S.B., and professor of philosophy in the
university of Koenigsberg; From the German by the Translator of The
Principles of Critical Philosophy; IN TWO VOLUMES; Vol. 1; London:
Sold by William Richardson Under the Royal Exchange, 1798; This e-text
was prepared by John Mamoun in 2014. This e-text is not in copyright
and is public domain.]
*************
Of The Injustice of Counterfeiting Books
Those who consider the publication of a book to be equivalent to the
use of an author's property in the form of a copy (whether the
possessor came by it as a manuscript from the author or as a
transcript of it from an actual editor), and then, however, via the
reservation of certain rights, whether of the author's or of the
editor's, who is appointed by the author, want to limit the use of the
book only to this, that is, want to impose the rule that it is not
permitted to counterfeit the book, cannot, based upon the rationale of
this aforementioned consideration, attain this anti-counterfeiting
objective. For the author's property in his thoughts or sentiments
(even if it were not granted that the concept of such thought or
sentiment property has legal merit according to external laws) would
remain to him regardless of whether or not that property was used or
represented in the form of a counterfeit; and, since an express legal
consent given by the purchaser of a book to such a limitation of their
property would not likely be granted,* how much less would a merely
presumed consent suffice to determine the purchaser's obligation?
[*Footnote: Would an editor attempt to bind everybody who purchased
his work to the condition, to be accused of embezzling the property of
another entrusted to him, if, either intentionally, or by the
purchaser's lack of oversight, the copy which the purchaser purchased
were used for the purpose of counterfeiting? Scarcely anyone would
consent to this: because he would thereby expose himself to every sort
of trouble about the inquiry and the defense. The work would therefore
remain exclusively in the editor's hands.]
I believe, however, that I am justified to consider the publication of
a book to be not the trading of a good [in the form of a book] in the
trader's own name, but as the transacting of business in the name of
another, namely, the author. [By considering the act of publication
to be such a transaction], I am able to represent easily and
distinctly the wrongfulness of counterfeiting books. My argument,
which also proves the editor's right, is contained in a ratiocination;
after which follows a second, wherein the counterfeiter's pretension
shall be refuted.
I. Deduction of the Editor's Right against the Counterfeiter
Whoever transacts another's business in his name and yet against his
will is obliged to give up to him, or to his attorney, all the profits
that may arise therefrom, and to repair all the loss which is thereby
occasioned to either the one or the other.
Now the counterfeiter is he who transacts another's business (the
author's) against the other's will. Therefore the counterfeiter is
obliged to give up to the author or to his attorney (or the editor)
[any profits from the transaction].
Proof of the Major
As the agent, who intrudes himself, acts in the name of another in a
manner not permitted, he has no claim to the profit which arises from
this business; but the author or editor in whose name he carries on
the business, or another authorized controller of the work to whose
charge the former has committed the work, possesses the right to
appropriate this profit to himself, as the fruit of his property.
Besides, as this agent injures the possessor's right by intermeddling,
"nullo jure," in another's business, he must of necessity compensate
for all damages sustained. This lies without a doubt in the elementary
conceptions of natural right.
Proof of the Minor
The first point of the minor is: that the editor transacts the
business of the author by the publication. Here, everything depends
on the conception of a book, or of a writing in general, as a labour
of the author's, and on the conception of the editor in general (be he
an attorney
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The Woman with a Stone Heart
A Romance of the Philippine War.
By
O. W. Coursey, (U. S. Vols.)
Author of
"History and Geography of the Philippine Islands."
"Who's Who In South Dakota."
"Biography of General Beadle."
"School Law Digest."
All of these books are published and for sale by
THE EDUCATOR SUPPLY COMPANY
Mitchell, South Dakota
Copyrighted 1914
By O. W. Coursey
THE WOMAN WITH A STONE HEART
INTRODUCTION
To those whose love of adventure would cause them to plunge head-long
into an abyss of vain glory, hoping at life's sunset to reap a
harvest contrary to the seed that were sown, let me suggest that
you pause first to read the story of "The Woman With a Stone Heart,"
Marie Sampalit, dare-devil of the Philippines.
Perhaps we might profitably meditate for a few moments on the musings
of Whittier:
"The tissue of the life to be
We weave in colors all our own,
And in the field of destiny
We'll reap as we have sown."
--The Author.
DEDICATION
To Her, who, as a bride of only eighteen months, stood broken-hearted
on the depot platform and bade me a tearful farewell as our train of
soldier boys started to war; who later, while I was Ten Thousand miles
away from home on soldier duty in the Philippine Islands, became a
Mother; and who, unfortunately, three months thereafter, was called
upon to lay our first-born, Oliver D. Coursey, into his snow-lined
baby tomb amid the bleak silence of a cold winter's night, with no
strong arm to bear her up in those awful hours of anguish and despair,
My Soldier Wife, Julia,
this book is most affectionately dedicated.
"Only a baby's grave,
Yet often we go and sit
By the little stone,
And thank God to own,
We are nearer heaven for it."
--O. W. Coursey.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Marie Sampalit 10
Region Around Manila Bay 29
Admiral Dewey 39
Aguinaldo 61
Marie, Her Mother, etc. 82
Filipinos at Breakfast 100
End of the Boat-Battle 113
The Rescue 126
Floating Down The Rapids 129
General Lawton and Staff 139
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapters: Page
I. Love Defeated 9
II. First Shot of A New War 25
III. Avenged Her Lover's Death 41
IV. The Interval 57
V. Filipino Uprising 69
VI. As A Spy 81
VII. Off For Baler 93
VIII. The Gilmore Incident 105
IX. The American Prisoners 113
X. Death of General Lawton 131
XI. North-bound 141
XII. Crossing the Sierra Madres 153
XIII. Compensation 167
CHAPTER I.
LOVE DEFEATED
Marie Sampalit and her fiancee, Rolando Dimiguez, were walking
arm-in-arm along the sandy beach of Manila bay, just opposite old
Fort Malate, talking of their wedding day which had been postponed
because of the Filipino insurrection which was in progress.
The tide was out. A long waved line of sea-shells and drift-wood
marked the place to which it had risen the last time before it began
to recede. They were unconsciously following this line of ocean
debris. Occasionally Marie would stop to pick up a spotted shell
which was more pretty than the rest. Finally, when they had gotten
as far north as the semi-circular drive-way which extends around
the southern and eastern sides of the walled-city, or Old Manila,
as it is called, and had begun to veer toward it, Marie looked back
and repeated a beautiful memory gem taught to her by a good friar
when she was a pupil in one of the parochial schools of Manila:
"E'en as the rise of the tide is told,
By drift
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THE MENTOR 1916.06.01, No. 108,
Shakespeare’s Country
LEARN ONE THING
EVERY DAY
JUNE 1 1916 SERIAL NO. 108
THE
MENTOR
SHAKESPEARE’S
COUNTRY
By WILLIAM WINTER
Poet and Critic
DEPARTMENT OF VOLUME 4
TRAVEL NUMBER 8
FIFTEEN CENTS A COPY
Stratford Impressions
It is the everlasting glory of Stratford-upon-Avon that it was
the birthplace of Shakespeare. Situated in the heart of beautiful
Warwickshire, it nestles cosily in an atmosphere of tranquil
loveliness, and it is surrounded by everything that gentle rural
scenery can provide to soothe the mind and to nurture contentment. It
stands upon a plain, almost in the center of England, through which,
between low green hills that roll away on either side, the Avon flows,
in many capricious windings, to the Severn, and so to the sea.
The golden glory of the setting sun burns on the gray spire of
Stratford church, and on the ancient graveyard below,--wherein
the mossy stones lean this way and that, in sweet and orderly
confusion,--and on the peaceful avenue of limes, and on the burnished
water of silver Avon. The tall, pointed, many- windows of the
church glint in the evening light. A cool, fragrant wind is stirring
the branches and the grass. The songbirds, calling to their mates or
sporting in the wanton pleasure of their airy life, are circling over
the church roof or hiding in little crevices of its walls. On the
vacant meadows across the river stretch away the long, level shadows of
the stately elms.
It is an accepted tradition in Stratford-upon-Avon that the bell of the
Guild Chapel was tolled on the occasion of the death and also of the
funeral of Shakespeare.
Sweet bell of Stratford, tolling slow,
In summer gloaming’s golden glow,
I hear and feel thy voice divine,
And all my soul responds to thine.
As now I hear thee, even so
My Shakespeare heard thee, long ago,
When lone by Avon’s pensive stream
He wandered in his haunted dream.
From “Shakespeare’s England,” by William Winter
[Illustration: WARWICK CASTLE, WARWICK]
Shakespeare’s Country
WARWICK CASTLE
Monograph Number One in The Mentor Reading Course
No one should come abruptly upon Stratford, the home of Shakespeare, as
Mr. Winter says. It is wiser and pleasanter to approach it gradually
by way of Warwick and Kenilworth. Both these castles have a place in
Shakespeare’s plays, and it is well worth while for the visitor to see
them.
Warwick is a quaint old town. Its population is about 12,000, and it
lies on a hill rising from the river Avon. Far back in antiquity it was
a settlement of the Britons, and, afterward, it was occupied by the
Romans. Its present name is of Saxon origin. Many of the houses retain
their medieval appearance; and in fact two of the old gates of the town
are still standing.
The prevailing quality of the town of Warwick is a sweet, solemn peace.
The people live there as in a gentle dream of repose. The little rows
of cottages breathe contentment; ivy embowers them, and roses cluster
about their windows.
The Church of St. Mary at Warwick as it now stands was rebuilt after
a fire in 1694. The Lord Leicester Hospital was established by Robert
Dudley, Earl of Leicester, in 1571. He founded it for the reception of
twelve poor men. This building contains several interesting relics, one
of which is a Saxon chair said to be a thousand years old; and another
is a piece of needle-work by Amy Robsart, the heroine of Sir Walter
Scott’s novel, “Kenilworth.”
On a commanding position overlooking the Avon rises Warwick Castle,
the ancient and stately home of the Earls of Warwick. This castle is
one of the finest and most picturesque feudal residences in England.
It probably dates from Saxon times; but the oldest part now standing
is the tall Cæsar’s Tower, 147 feet high, which was probably built
soon after the Norman conquest. In 1871 a great fire almost completely
destroyed the castle; but it was restored in the old style. The most
important event in the history of the building was its successful
defence by the Parliamentarians during the Civil War in England.
The interior of the castle contains an interesting collection of
paintings, old armor, and other curiosities.
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[Illustration]
ECLECTIC MAGAZINE OF FOREIGN LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.
New Series. } FEBRUARY, 1885. {Old Series complete
Vol. XLI., No. 2. } {in 63 vols.
A FAITHLESS WORLD.
BY FRANCES POWER COBBE.
A little somnolence seems to have overtaken religious controversy
of late. We are either weary of it or have grown so tolerant of our
differences that we find it scarcely worth while to discuss them. By
dint of rubbing against each other in the pages of the Reviews, in the
clubs, and at dinner parties, the sharp angles of our opinions have
been smoothed down. Ideas remain in a fluid state in this temperate
season of sentiment, and do not, as in old days, crystallize into
sects. We have become almost as conciliatory respecting our views as
the Chinese whom Huc describes as carrying courtesy so far as to praise
the religion of their neighbors and depreciate their own. “You, honored
sir,” they were wont to say, “are of the noble and lofty religion of
Confucius. I am of the poor and insignificant religion of Lao-tze.”
Only now and then some fierce controversialist, hailing usually from
India or the colonies where London amenities seem not yet to have
penetrated, startles us by the desperate earnestness wherewith he
disproves what we had almost forgotten that anybody seriously believes.
As a result of the general “laissez _croire_” of our day, it has come
to pass that a question has been mooted which, to our fathers, would
have seemed preposterous: “Is it of any consequence what we believe,
or whether we believe anything? Suppose that by-and-by we all arrive
at the conclusion that Religion has been altogether a mistake, and
renounce with one accord the ideas of God and Heaven, having (as M.
Comte assures us) outgrown the theological stage of human progress;
what then? Will it make any serious difference to anybody?”
Hitherto, thinkers of Mr. Bradlaugh’s type have sung pæans of welcome
for the expected golden years of Atheism, when “faiths and empires” will
“Gleam
Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.”
Christians and Theists of all schools, on the other hand, have
naturally deprecated with horror and dread such a cataclysm of faith
as sure to prove a veritable Ragnarok of universal ruin. In either
case it has been taken for granted that the change from a world of
little faith, like that in which we live, to a world wholly destitute
of faith, would be immensely great and far-reaching; and that at the
downfall of religion not only would the thrones and temples of the
earth, but every homestead in every land, be shaken to its foundation.
It is certainly a step beyond any yet taken in the direction of
scepticism to question this conclusion, and maintain that such a
revolution would be of trivial import, since things would go on with
mankind almost as well without a God as with one.
The man who, with characteristic downrightness, has blurted out most
openly this last doubt of all—the doubt whether doubt be an evil—is,
as my readers will have recognized, Mr. Justice Stephen. In the
concluding pages of one of his sledge-hammerings on the heads of his
adversaries, in the _Nineteenth Century_ for last June, he rung the
changes upon the idea (with some reservations, to be presently noted)
as follows:—
“If human life is in the course of being fully
described by science, I do not see what materials
there are for any religion, or, indeed, what would be
the use of one, or why it is wanted. We can get on
very well without one, for though the view of life
which science is opening to us gives us nothing to
worship, it gives us an infinite number of things to
enjoy.... The world seems to me a very good world,
if it would only last. It is full of pleasant people
and curious things, and I think that most men find
no great difficulty in turning their minds away
from its transient character. Love, friendship,
ambition, science, literature, art, politics,
commerce, professions, trades, and a thousand other
matters, will go equally well, as far as I can see,
whether there is, or is not, a God or a future
state.”—
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THE WOULDBEGOODS
[Illustration:
See p. 47
"'AND PATRIOTIC,' SAID HE"]
_THE WOULDBEGOODS_
BY E. NESBIT
ILLUSTRATED BY
REGINALD B. BIRCH
[Illustration]
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
Copyright, 1900, 1901, by EDITH NESBIT BLAND.
_All rights reserved._
September, 1901.
TO
MY DEAR SON
FABIAN BLAND
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE JUNGLE 1
THE WOULDBEGOODS 20
BILL'S TOMBSTONE 43
THE TOWER OF MYSTERY 63
THE WATER-WORKS 86
THE CIRCUS 111
BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG EXPLORERS (ARCTIC OR OTHERWISE) 135
THE HIGH-BORN BABE 159
HUNTING THE FOX 178
THE SALE OF ANTIQUITIES 201
THE BENEVOLENT BAR 224
THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS 243
THE DRAGON'S TEETH; OR, ARMY-SEED 267
ALBERT'S UNCLE'S GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE LONG-LOST 292
ILLUSTRATIONS
"'AND PATRIOTIC,' SAID HE" _Frontispiece_
"WE LET THE HOSE
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Library Project at http://www.tpdlp.net and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[Illustration]
THE
Stanley Gibbons Philatelic Handbooks.
SAINT VINCENT
WITH
Notes and Publishers’ Prices.
BY
FRANCIS H. NAPIER
AND
E. D. BACON.
STANLEY GIBBONS, LIMITED,
391, STRAND, LONDON.
1895.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE
Stanley Gibbons Philatelic Handbooks.
SAINT VINCENT.
WITH
_NOTES AND PUBLISHERS’ PRICES_.
BY
FRANCIS H. NAPIER
AND
E. D. BACON.
London:
STANLEY GIBBONS, LIMITED,
391, STRAND.
1895.
_391, STRAND, LONDON._
_The large number of collectors, not only in this country, but also on
the other side of the Atlantic, who now make the postal issues of the
various West Indian Colonies of Great Britain the object of their quest,
justifies us in believing that the present volume (the fourth of the
series) will be received with as much interest as that which has been
evinced for the preceding volumes._
_The authors of this Handbook, Lieut. F. H. Napier, R.N., and Mr. E. D.
Bacon, have in preparation a Handbook on the Stamps of Barbados, which we
hope will be ready for publication in the course of the present year._
_The prices quoted will in some cases be found higher than the prices
given in our General Catalogue and Price List, but it must be borne in
mind that those in these Handbooks are specimens of more than average
quality, for it is a fact now generally recognized by all philatelists
that a specimen in exceptional condition commands a higher price than
that which rules for an average specimen._
_We have priced only those varieties which we have in stock in certain
quantities, but it must not be concluded from this that all those
unpriced are of such rarity or value that we are unable to supply them._
_STANLEY GIBBONS, LIMITED._
_May, 1895._
SAINT VINCENT.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.
The prehistoric times of Philately may be said to have ceased in 1863,
when the publication of the _Stamp Collector’s Magazine_ and the
_Timbre-Poste_ commenced. The few and meagre catalogues which preceded
them in 1862—such as those of Mount Brown and Dr. Gray in England, Moens
in Belgium, and Potiquet in France—can only be looked upon as archaic
productions, interesting certainly because of their associations, but
of no appreciable utility now-a-days to the student of stamps. It is,
however, worthy of remark that the difference between imperforate and
perforated stamps was then recognized, as they are distinguished from
each other in the catalogues both of Moens and Potiquet; this shows that
even at that early date the true philatelic spirit was already abroad.
When studying countries of which the philatelic histories begin prior
to 1862 or 1863, we are dependent entirely on public notices emanating
from postal authorities, official records, and information derived from
the books of firms who manufactured the stamps, or supplied the plates,
paper &c. for printing them, sources of knowledge not always easy of
access. Luckily for our present purpose, seeing that postage stamps were
not adopted in St. Vincent until 1861, we are not so dependent on these
official or commercial records, having a great number of philatelic
works, such as catalogues and periodicals, to rely upon, all of which we
have carefully searched and collated; at the same time we have received
great assistance from Messrs. Perkins, Bacon & Co., Limited, the printers
of the stamps included under the head of Section I. This Company have
been good enough to furnish us with a complete list of every stamp sent
out by them to the Island, a copy of which we give in Appendix D, and we
acknowledge with thanks our indebtedness to the Managing Director and
Secretary, for the valuable material they have so considerately placed
at our disposal, which has enabled us to satisfactorily clear up several
points that before were more or less obscure. It will also be seen that
the list helps in no small degree to form what we hope may be
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THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY MR. FROUDE'S "PROGRESS"
By Charles Dudley Warner
To revisit this earth, some ages after their departure from it, is a
common wish among men. We frequently hear men say that they would give so
many months or years of their lives in exchange for a less number on the
globe one or two or three centuries from now. Merely to see the world
from some remote sphere, like the distant spectator of a play which
passes in dumb show, would not suffice. They would like to be of the
world again, and enter into its feelings, passions, hopes; to feel the
sweep of its current, and so to comprehend what it has become.
I suppose that we all who are thoroughly interested in this world have
this desire. There are some select souls who sit apart in calm endurance,
waiting to be translated out of a world they are almost tired of
patronizing, to whom the whole thing seems, doubtless, like a cheap
performance. They sit on the fence of criticism, and cannot for the life
of them see what the vulgar crowd make such a toil and sweat about. The
prizes are the same dreary, old, fading bay wreaths. As for the soldiers
marching past, their uniforms are torn, their hats are shocking, their
shoes are dusty, they do not appear (to a man sitting on the fence) to
march with any kind of spirit, their flags are old and tattered, the
drums they beat are barbarous; and, besides, it is not probable that they
are going anywhere; they will merely come round again, the same people,
like the marching chorus in the "Beggar's Opera." Such critics, of
course, would not care to see the vulgar show over again; it is enough
for them to put on record their protest against it in the weekly
"Judgment Days" which they edit, and by-and-by withdraw out of their
private boxes, with pity for a world in the creation of which they were
not consulted.
The desire to revisit this earth is, I think, based upon a belief,
well-nigh universal, that the world is to make some progress, and that it
will be more interesting in the future than it is now. I believe that the
human mind, whenever it is developed enough to comprehend its own action,
rests, and has always rested, in this expectation. I do not know any
period of time in which the civilized mind has not had expectation of
something better for the race in the future. This expectation is
sometimes stronger than it is at others; and, again, there are always
those who say that the Golden Age is behind them. It is always behind or
before us; the poor present alone has no friends; the present, in the
minds of many, is only the car that is carrying us away from an age of
virtue and of happiness, or that is perhaps bearing us on to a time of
ease and comfort and security.
Perhaps it is worth while, in view of certain recent discussions, and
especially of some free criticisms of this country, to consider whether
there is any intention of progress in this world, and whether that
intention is discoverable in the age in which we live.
If it is an old question, it is not a settled one; the practical
disbelief in any such progress is widely entertained. Not long ago Mr.
James Anthony Froude published an essay on Progress, in which he examined
some of the evidences upon which we rely to prove that we live in an "era
of progress." It is a melancholy essay, for its tone is that of profound
skepticism as to certain influences and means of progress upon which we
in this country most rely. With the illustrative arguments of Mr.
Froude's essay I do not purpose specially to meddle; I recall it to the
attention of the reader as a representative type of skepticism regarding
progress which is somewhat common among intellectual men, and is not
confined to England. It is not exactly an acceptance of Rousseau's notion
that civilization is a mistake, and that it would be better for us all to
return to a state of nature--though in John Ruskin's case it nearly
amounts to this; but it is a hostility in its last analysis to what we
understand by the education of the people, and to the government of the
people by themselves. If Mr. Froude's essay is anything but an exhibition
of the scholarly weapons of criticism, it is the expression of a profound
disbelief in the intellectual education of the masses of the people. Mr.
Ruskin goes further. He makes his open proclamation against any
emancipation from hand-toil. Steam is the devil himself let loose from
the pit, and all labor-saving machinery is his own invention. Mr. Ruskin
is the bull that stands upon the track and threatens with annihilation
the on-coming locomotive; and I think that any spectator who sees his
menacing attitude and hears his roaring cannot but have fears for the
locomotive.
There are two sorts of infidelity concerning humanity, and I do not know
which is the more withering in its effects. One is that which regards
this world as only a waste and a desert, across the sands of which we are
merely fugitives, fleeing from the wrath to come. The other is that doubt
of any divine intention in development, in history, which we call
progress from age to age.
In the eyes of this latter infidelity history is not a procession or a
progression, but only a series of disconnected pictures, each little era
rounded with its own growth, fruitage, and decay, a series of incidents
or experiments, without even the string of a far-reaching purpose to
connect them. There is no intention of progress in it all. The race is
barbarous, and then it changes to civilized; in the one case the strong
rob the weak by brute force; in the other the crafty rob the unwary by
finesse. The latter is a more agreeable state of things; but it comes to
about the same. The robber used to knock us down and take away our
sheepskins; he now administers chloroform and relieves us of our watches.
It is a gentlemanly proceeding, and scientific, and we call it
civilization. Meantime human nature remains the same, and the whole thing
is a weary round that has no advance in it.
If this is true the succession of men and of races is no better than a
vegetable succession; and Mr. Froude is quite right in doubting if
education of the brain will do the English agricultural laborer any good;
and Mr. Ruskin ought to be aided in his crusade against machinery, which
turns the world upside down. The best that can be done with a man is the
best that can be done with a plant-set him out in some favorable
locality, or leave him where he happened to strike root, and there let
him grow and mature in measure and quiet--especially quiet--as he may in
God's sun and rain. If he happens to be a cabbage, in Heaven's name don't
try to make a rose of him, and do not disturb the vegetable maturing of
his head by grafting ideas upon his stock.
The most serious difficulty in the way of those who maintain that there
is an intention of progress in this world from century to century, from
age to age--a discernible growth, a universal development--is the fact
that all nations do not make progress at the same time or in the same
ratio; that nations reach a certain development, and then fall away and
even retrograde; that while one may be advancing into high civilization,
another is lapsing into deeper barbarism, and that nations appear to have
a limit of growth. If there were a law of progress, an intention of it in
all the world, ought not all peoples and tribes to advance pari passu, or
at least ought there not to be discernible a general movement, historical
and contemporary? There is no such general movement which can be
computed, the law of which can be discovered--therefore it does not
exist. In a kind of despair, we are apt to run over in our minds empires
and pre-eminent civilizations that have existed, and then to doubt
whether life in this world is intended to be anything more than a series
of experiments. There is the German nation of our day, the most
aggressive in various fields of intellectual activity, a Hercules of
scholarship, the most thoroughly trained and powerful--though its
civilization marches to the noise of the hateful and barbarous drum. In
what points is it better than the Greek nation of the age of its
superlative artists, philosophers, poets--the age of the most joyous,
elastic human souls in the most perfect human bodies?
Again, it is perhaps a fanciful notion that the Atlantis of Plato was the
northern part of the South American continent, projecting out towards
Africa, and that the Antilles are the peaks and headlands of its sunken
bulk. But there are evidences enough that the shores of the Gulf of
Mexico and the Caribbean Sea were within historic periods the seat of a
very considerable civilization--the seat of cities, of commerce, of
trade, of palaces and pleasure--gardens--faint images, perhaps, of the
luxurious civilization of Baia! and Pozzuoli and Capri in the most
profligate period of the Roman empire. It is not more difficult to
believe that there was a great material development here than to believe
it of the African shore of the Mediterranean. Not to multiply instances
that will occur to all, we see as many retrograde as advance movements,
and we see, also, that while one spot of the earth at one time seems to
be the chosen theatre of progress, other portions of the globe are
absolutely dead and without the least leaven of advancing life, and we
cannot understand how this can be if there is any such thing as an
all-pervading and animating intention or law of progress. And then we are
reminded that the individual human mind long ago attained its height of
power and capacity. It is enough to recall the names of Moses, Buddha,
Confucius, Socrates, Paul, Homer, David.
No doubt it has seemed to other periods and other nations, as it now does
to the present civilized races, that they were the chosen times and
peoples of an extraordinary and limitless development. It must have
seemed so to the Jews who overran Palestine and set their shining cities
on all the hills of heathendom. It must have seemed so to the Babylonish
conquerors who swept over Palestine in turn, on their way to greater
conquests in Egypt. It must have seemed so to Greece when the Acropolis
was to the outlying world what the imperial calla is to the marsh in
which it lifts its superb flower. It must have seemed so to Rome when its
solid roads of stone ran to all parts of a tributary world--the highways
of the legions, her ministers, and of the wealth that poured into her
treasury. It must have seemed so to followers of Mahomet, when the
crescent knew no pause in its march up the Arabian peninsula to the
Bosporus, to India, along the Mediterranean shores to Spain, where in the
eighth century it flowered into a culture, a learning, a refinement in
art and manners, to which the Christian world of that day was a stranger.
It must have seemed so in the awakening of the sixteenth century, when
Europe, Spain leading, began that great movement of discovery and
aggrandizement which has, in the end, been profitable only to a portion
of the adventurers. And what shall we say of a nation as old, if not
older than any of these we have mentioned, slowly building up meantime a
civilization and perfecting a system of government and a social economy
which should outlast them all, and remain to our day almost the sole
monument of permanence and stability in a shifting world?
How many times has the face of Europe been changed--and parts of Africa,
and Asia Minor too, for that matter--by conquests and crusades, and the
rise and fall of civilizations as well as dynasties? while China has
endured, almost undisturbed, under a system of law, administration,
morality, as old as the Pyramids probably--existed a coherent nation,
highly developed in certain essentials, meeting and mastering, so far as
we can see, the great problem of an over-populated territory, living in a
good degree of peace and social order, of respect for age and law, and
making a continuous history, the mere record of which is printed in a
thousand bulky volumes. Yet we speak of the Chinese empire as an instance
of arrested growth, for which there is no salvation, except it shall
catch the spirit of progress abroad in the world. What is this progress,
and where does it come from?
Think for a moment of this significant situation. For thousands of years,
empires, systems of society, systems of civilization--Egyptian, Jewish,
Greek, Roman, Moslem, Feudal--have flourished and fallen, grown to a
certain height and passed away; great organized fabrics have gone down,
and, if there has been any progress, it has been as often defeated as
renewed. And here is an empire, apart from this scene of alternate
success and disaster, which has existed in a certain continuity and
stability, and yet, now that it is uncovered and stands face to face with
the rest of the world, it finds that it has little to teach us, and
almost everything to learn from us. The old empire sends its students to
learn of us, the newest child of civilization; and through us they learn
all the great past, its literature, law, science, out of which we sprang.
It appears, then, that progress has, after all, been with the shifting
world, that has been all this time going to pieces, rather than with the
world that has been permanent and unshaken.
When we speak of progress we may mean two things. We may mean a lifting
of the races as a whole by reason of more power over the material world,
by reason of what we call the conquest of nature and a practical use of
its forces; or we may mean a higher development of the individual man, so
that he shall be better and happier. If from age to age it is
discoverable that the earth is better adapted to man as a dwelling-place,
and he is on the whole fitted to get more out of it for his own growth,
is not that progress, and is it not evidence of an intention of progress?
Now, it is sometimes said that Providence, in the economy of this world,
cares nothing for the individual, but works out its ideas and purposes
through the races, and in certain periods, slowly bringing in, by great
agencies and by processes destructive to individuals and to millions of
helpless human beings, truths and principles; so laying stepping-stones
onward to a great consummation. I do not care to dwell upon this thought,
but let us see if we can find any evidence in history of the presence in
this world of an intention of progress.
It is common to say that, if the world makes progress at all, it is by
its great men, and when anything important for the race is to be done, a
great man is raised up to do it. Yet another way to look at it is, that
the doing of something at the appointed time makes the man who does it
great, or at least celebrated. The man often appears to be only a favored
instrument of communication. As we glance back we recognize the truth
that, at this and that period, the time had come for certain discoveries.
Intelligence seemed pressing in from the invisible. Many minds were on
the alert to apprehend it. We believe, for instance, that if Gutenberg
had not invented movable types, somebody else would have given them to
the world about that time. Ideas, at certain times, throng for admission
into the world; and we are all familiar with the fact that the same
important idea (never before revealed in all the ages) occurs to separate
and widely distinct minds at about the same time. The invention of the
electric telegraph seemed to burst upon the world simultaneously from
many quarters--not perfect, perhaps, but the time for the idea had
come--and happy was it for the man who entertained it. We have agreed to
call Columbus the discoverer of America, but I suppose there is no doubt
that America had been visited by European, and probably Asiatic, people
ages before Columbus; that four or five centuries before him people from
northern Europe had settlements here; he was fortunate, however, in
"discovering" it in the fullness of time, when the world, in its
progress, was ready for it. If the Greeks had had gunpowder,
electro-magnetism, the printing press, history would need to be
rewritten. Why the inquisitive Greek mind did not find out these things
is a mystery upon any other theory than the one we are considering.
And it is as mysterious that China, having gunpowder and the art of
printing, is not today like Germany.
There seems to me to be a progress, or an intention of progress, in the
world, independent of individual men. Things get on by all sorts of
instruments, and sometimes by very poor ones. There are times when new
thoughts or applications of known principles seem to throng from the
invisible for expression through human media, and there is hardly ever an
important invention set free in the world that men do not appear to be
ready cordially to receive it. Often we should be justified in saying
that there was a widespread expectation of it. Almost all the great
inventions and the ingenious application of principles have many
claimants for the honor of priority.
On any other theory than this, that there is present in the world an
intention of progress which outlasts individuals, and even races, I
cannot account for the fact that, while civilizations decay and pass
away, and human systems go to pieces, ideas remain and accumulate. We,
the latest age, are the inheritors of all the foregoing ages. I do not
believe that anything of importance has been lost to the world. The
Jewish civilization was torn up root and branch, but whatever was
valuable in the Jewish polity is ours now. We may say the same of the
civilizations of Athens and of Rome; though the entire organization of
the ancient world, to use Mr. Froude's figure, collapsed into a heap of
incoherent sand, the ideas remained, and Greek art and Roman
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[Illustration: CAPTAIN COLES’S NEW IRON TURRET-SHIP-OF-WAR.]
KNOWLEDGE
FOR THE TIME:
A Manual
OF
READING, REFERENCE, AND CONVERSATION ON SUBJECTS OF LIVING
INTEREST, USEFUL CURIOSITY, AND AMUSING RESEARCH:
HISTORICO-POLITICAL INFORMATION.
PROGRESS OF CIVILIZATION.
DIGNITIES AND DISTINCTIONS.
CHANGES IN LAWS.
MEASURE AND VALUE.
PROGRESS OF SCIENCE.
LIFE AND HEALTH.
RELIGIOUS THOUGHT.
Illustrated from the best and latest Authorities.
BY JOHN TIMBS, F.S.A.
AUTHOR OF CURIOSITIES OF LONDON, THINGS NOT GENERALLY KNOWN,
ETC.
_LONDON_:
Lockwood and Co., 7 Stationers’-hall Court.
MDCCCLXIV.
TO THE READER.
The great value of contemporary History--that is, history written
by actual witnesses of the events which they narrate,--is now
beginning to be appreciated by general readers. The improved
character of the journalism of the present day is the best evidence
of this advancement, which has been a work of no ordinary labour.
Truth is not of such easy acquisition as is generally supposed;
and the chances of obtaining unprejudiced accounts of events are
rarely improved by distance from the time at which they happen.
In proportion as freedom of thought is enlarged, and liberty of
conscience, and liberty of will, are increased, will be the amount
of trustworthiness in the written records of contemporaries. It is
the rarity of these high privileges in chroniclers of past events
which has led to so many obscurities in the world’s history, and
warpings in the judgment of its writers; to trust some of whom has
been compared to reading with “ spectacles.” And, one of
the features of our times is to be ever taking stock of the amount
of truth in past history; to set readers on the tenters of doubt,
and to make them suspicious of perversions; and to encourage a
whitewashing of black reputations which sometimes strays into an
extreme equally as unserviceable to truth as that from which the
writer started.
It is, however, with the view of correcting the Past by _the light
of the Present_, and directing attention to many salient points
of Knowledge for the Time, that the present volume is offered to
the public. Its aim may be considered great in proportion to the
limited means employed; but, to extend what is, in homely phrase,
termed a right understanding, the contents of the volume are of a
mixed character, the Author having due respect for the emphatic
words of Dr. Arnold: “Preserve proportion in your reading, keep
your views of Men and Things extensive, and _depend upon it a mixed
knowledge is not a superficial one_: as far as it goes, the views
that it gives are true; but he who reads deeply in one class of
writers only, gets views which are almost sure to be perverted, and
which are not only narrow but false.”
Throughout the Work, the Author has endeavoured to avail himself of
the most reliable views of leading writers on Events of the Day;
and by seizing new points of Knowledge and sources of Information,
to present, in a classified form, such an assemblage of Facts and
Opinions as may be impressed with warmth and quickness upon the
memory, and assist in the formation of a good general judgment, or
direct still further a-field.
In this Manual of abstracts, abridgments, and
summaries--considerably over Three Hundred in number--illustrations
by way of Anecdote occur in every page. Wordiness has been avoided
as unfitted for a book which has for its object not the waste but
the economy of time and thought, and the diffusion of concise
notions upon subjects of living Interest, useful Curiosity, and
amusing Research.
The accompanying Table of Contents will, at a single glance, show
the variety as well as the practical character of the subjects
illustrated; the aim being to render the work alike serviceable
to the reader of a journal of the day, as well as to the student
who reads to “reject what is no longer essential.” The Author has
endeavoured to keep pace with the progress of Information; and in
the selection of new accessions, some have been inserted more to
stimulate curiosity and promote investigation than as things to
be taken for granted. The best and latest Authorities have been
consulted, and the improved journalism of our time has been made
available; for, “when a river of gold is running by your door, why
not put out your hat,
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Produced by Julia Miller and the Online Distributed
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber's Note
A number of typographical errors have been maintained in this version of
this book. They have been marked with a [TN-#], which refers to a
description in the complete list found at the end of the text.
AN
ETHNOLOGIST'S VIEW OF HISTORY.
AN ADDRESS
BEFORE THE
ANNUAL MEETING OF THE NEW JERSEY HISTORICAL SOCIETY,
AT
TRENTON, NEW JERSEY, JANUARY 28, 1896.
BY
DANIEL G. BRINTON, A. M., M. D., LL. D., D. Sc.
PROFESSOR OF AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF
PENNSYLVANIA AND OF GENERAL ETHNOLOGY AT THE
ACADEMY OF NATURAL SCIENCES OF PHILADELPHIA.
PHILADELPHIA, PA.
1896.
An Ethnologist's View of History.
MR. PRESIDENT:
* * * * *
The intelligent thought of the world is ever advancing to a fuller
appreciation of the worth of the past to the present and the future.
Never before have associations, societies and journals devoted to
historical studies been so numerous. All times and tribes are searched
for memorials; the remote corners of modern, medieval and ancient
periods are brought under scrutiny; and going beyond these again, the
semi-historic eras of tradition and the nebulous gleams from
pre-historic milleniums[TN-1] are diligently scanned, that their
uncertain story may be prefaced to that registered in "the syllables of
recorded time."
In this manner a vast mass of material is accumulating with which the
historian has to deal. What now is the real nature of the task he sets
before himself? What is the mission with which he is entrusted?
To understand this task, to appreciate that mission, he must ask himself
the broad questions: What is the aim of history? What are the purposes
for which it should be studied and written?
He will find no lack of answers to these inquiries, all offered with
equal confidence, but singularly discrepant among themselves. His
embarrassment will be that of selection between widely divergent views,
each ably supported by distinguished advocates.
As I am going to add still another, not exactly like any already on the
list, it may well be asked of me to show why one or other of those
already current is not as good or better than my own. This requires me
to pass in brief review the theories of historic methods, or, as it is
properly termed, of the Philosophy of History, which are most popular
to-day.
They may be classified under three leading opinions, as follows:
1. History should be an accurate record of events, and nothing more; an
exact and disinterested statement of what has taken place, concealing
nothing and coloring nothing, reciting incidents in their natural
connections, without bias, prejudice, or didactic application of any
kind.
This is certainly a high ideal and an excellent model. For many, yes,
for the majority of historical works, none better can be suggested. I
place it first and name it as worthiest of all current theories of
historical composition. But, I would submit to you, is a literary
production answering to this precept, really _History_? Is it anything
more than a well-prepared annal or chronicle? Is it, in fact anything
else than a compilation containing the materials of which real history
should be composed?
I consider that the mission of the historian, taken in its completest
sense, is something much more, much higher, than the collection and
narration of events, no matter how well this is done. The historian
should be like the man of science, and group his facts under inductive
systems so as to reach the general laws which connect and explain them.
He should, still further, be like the artist, and endeavor so to exhibit
these connections under literary forms that they present to the reader
the impression of a symmetrical and organic unity, in which each part or
event bears definite relations to all others. Collection and collation
are not enough. The historian must "work up his field notes," as the
geologists say, so as to extract from his data all the useful results
which they are capable of yielding.
I am quite certain that in these objections I can count on the suffrages
of most. For the majority of authors write history in a style widely
different from that which I have been describing. They are distinctly
teachers, though not at all in accord as to what they teach. They are
generally advocates, and with more or less openness maintain what I call
the second theory of the aim of history, to wit:
2. History should be
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Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/oldstoryofmyfarm03reutuoft
COLLECTION
OF
GERMAN AUTHORS
VOL. 36.
* * * * *
AN OLD STORY
OF MY FARMING DAYS BY FRITZ REUTER.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
AN OLD STORY
OF MY FARMING DAYS
_(UT MINE STROMTID)_
BY
FRITZ REUTER,
AUTHOR OF "IN THE YEAR '13:"
FROM THE GERMAN
BY
M. W. MACDOWALL.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
_Authorized Edition_.
LEIPZIG 1878
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.
LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON.
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
PARIS: C. REINWALD & CIE, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PERES.
AN OLD STORY
UT MINE STROMTID.
CHAPTER I.
The day after Christmas was passed very busily in Mrs. Behrens' house
in Rahnstaedt. Louisa was continually to be seen running up and down
stairs, for she was finishing the arrangement of her father's room.
Whenever she thought it was quite ready, and looked really nice, she
was sure to find something to improve, some alteration that must be
made to ensure perfection. Dinner-time came, but her father had not
arrived, though she had prepared some little d
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THE
RIVAL CAMPERS
Or,
THE ADVENTURES OF HENRY BURNS
By
Ruel P. Smith
ILLUSTRATED BY
A. B. SHUTE
BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
1905
_Copyright_, _1905_
By L. C. Page & Company
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
Published July, 1905
_Second Impression_
_Third Impression, July, 1906_
_COLONIAL PRESS
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston. U. S. A._
WITH LOVE TO
_Ruel Stevenson Smith_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Camp 1
II. To the Rescue 17
III. A Surprise 32
IV. A Night with Henry Burns 51
V. A Hidden Cave 72
VI. Jack Harvey Investigates 90
VII. Squire Brackett's Dog 109
VIII. The Haunted House 125
IX. Setting a Trap 142
X. A Midnight Adventure 160
XI. An Unpleasant Discovery 181
XII. A Cruise Around the Island 199
XIII. Storm Driven 220
XIV. The Man in the Boat 238
XV. Good for Evil 259
XVI. A Treaty of Friendship 278
XVII. The Fire 290
XVIII. The Flight 306
XIX. The Pursuit 324
XX. Among the Islands 343
XXI. The Trial 364
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"'Look, Bob! Look!' he cried. 'What have we done?'"
(_Frontispiece_) 86
"'What's the matter with you?' roared the Colonel" 67
"'You're the worst one of all, Jack Harvey'" 114
"Craigie reeled under the blow and staggered back against the
wall" 173
"Boys and lobster-pot slumped into the sea" 211
"'Will you shake hands with me?' he asked" 279
THE RIVAL CAMPERS
CHAPTER I.
THE CAMP
On a certain afternoon in the latter part of the month of June, the
little fishing village of Southport, on Grand Island in Samoset Bay, was
awakened from its customary nap by the familiar whistle of the steamboat
from up the river. Southport, opening a sleepy eye at the sound, made
deliberate preparation to receive its daily visitor, knowing that the
steamer was as yet some distance up the island, and not even in sight,
for behind the bluff around which the steamer must eventually come the
town lay straggling irregularly along the shore of a deeply indented
cove.
A few loungers about the village grocery-store seemed roused to a renewed
interest in life, removed their pipes, and, with evident satisfaction at
this relief from island monotony, sauntered lazily down to the wharf. The
storekeeper and the freight-agent, as became men burdened with the
present responsibility of seeing that the steamer was offered all
possible assistance in making its landing, bustled about with importance.
Soon a wagon or two from down the island came rattling into the village,
while from the hotel, a quarter of a mile distant, a number of guests
appeared on the veranda, curious to scrutinize such new arrivals as might
appear. From the summer cottages here and there flags were hastily run
up, and from one a salute was fired; all of which might be taken to
indicate that the coming of the steamer was the event of the day at
Southport--as, indeed, it was.
Now another whistle sounded shrilly from just behind the bluff, and the
next moment the little steamer shoved its bow from out a jagged screen of
rock, while the chorused exclamation, "Thar she is!" from the assembled
villagers announced that they were fully awake to the situation.
Among the crowd gathered on the wharf, three boys, between whom there
existed sufficient family resemblance to indicate that they were
brothers, scanned eagerly the faces of the passengers as the steamer came
slowly to the landing. The eldest of the three, a boy of about sixteen
years, turned at length to the other two, and remarked, in a tone of
disappointment:
"They are not aboard. I can't see a sign of them. Something must have
kept them."
"Unless," said one of the others, "they are hiding somewhere to surprise
us."
"It's impossible," said the first boy, "for any one to hide away when he
gets in sight of this island. No, if they were aboard we should have seen
them the minute the steamer turned the bluff, waving to us and yelling at
the top of their lungs. There's something in the air here that makes one
feel like tearing around and making a noise."
"Especially at night, when the cottagers are asleep," said the third boy.
"Besides," continued the eldest, "their canoe is not aboard, and you
would not catch Tom Harris and Bob White coming down here for the summer
without it, when they spend half their time in it on the river at home
and are as expert at handling it as Indians,--and yet, they wrote that
they would be here to-day."
It was evident the boys they were looking for were not aboard. The little
steamer, after a violent demonstration of puffing and snorting, during
which it made apparently several desperate attempts to rush headlong on
the rocks, but was checked with a hasty scrambling of paddle-wheels, and
was bawled at by captain and mates, was finally subdued and made fast to
the wharf by the deck-hands. The passengers disembarked, and the same
lusty, brown-armed crew, with a series of rushes, as though they feared
their captive might at any moment break its bonds and make a dash for
liberty, proceeded to unload the freight and baggage. Trucks laden with
leaning towers of baggage were trundled noisily ashore and overturned
upon the wharf.
In the midst of the bustle and commotion the group of three boys was
joined by another boy, who had just come from the hotel.
"Hulloa, there!" said the new boy. "Where's Tom and Bob?"
"They are not aboard, Henry," said the eldest boy of the group.
The new arrival gave a whistle of surprise.
"How do you feel this afternoon, Henry?" asked the second of the
brothers.
"Oh, very poorly--very miserable. In fact, I don't seem to get any
better."
This lugubrious reply, strange to say, did not evoke the sympathy which a
listener might have expected. The boys burst into roars of laughter.
"Poor Henry Burns!" exclaimed the eldest boy, giving the self-declared
invalid a blow on the chest that would have meant the annihilation of
weak lungs. "He will never be any better."
"And he may be a great deal worse," said the second boy, slapping the
other on the back so hard that the dust flew under the blow.
"Won't the boys like him, though?" asked the third and youngest
boy,--"that is, if they ever come."
Henry Burns received these sallies with the utmost unconcern. If he
enjoyed the effect which his remarks had produced, it was denoted only by
a twinkle in his eyes. He was rather a slender, pale-complexioned youth,
of fourteen years. A physiognomist might have found in his features an
unusual degree of coolness and self-control, united with an abnormal
fondness for mischief; but Henry Burns would have passed with the
ordinary person as a frail boy, fonder of books than of sports.
Just then the captain of the steamer put his head out of the pilot-house
and called to the eldest of the brothers:
"I've got a note for you, George Warren. A young chap who said he was on
his way here in a canoe came aboard at Millville and asked me to give it
to you; and there was another young chap in a canoe alongside who asked
me to say they'd be here to-night."
"Hooray!" cried George Warren, opening and reading the note. "It's the
boys, sure enough. They started at four o'clock this morning in the
canoe, and will be here to-night. Much obliged, Captain Chase."
"Not a bit," responded the captain. "But let me tell you boys something.
You needn't look for these 'ere young chaps to-night, because they won't
get here. What's more," added the captain, as he surveyed the water and
sky with the air of one defying the elements to withhold a secret from
him, "if they try to cross the bay to-night you needn't look for them at
all. The bay is nothing too smooth now; but wait till the tide turns and
the wind in those clouds off to the east is let loose! There's going to
be fun out there, and that before many hours, too."
With this dismally prophetic remark the captain gave orders to cast off
the lines, and the steamer was soon on its way down the bay.
The three brothers, George, Arthur, and Joe Warren, and Henry Burns left
the wharf and were walking in the direction of the hotel, when a remark
from the latter stopped them short.
"Did it occur to any of you," asked Henry Burns, speaking in a slightly
drawling tone, "that we shall never have a better opportunity to play a
practical joke on your friends than we have to-day--?"
"What friends?" exclaimed George Warren, indignantly.
"I thought you said Tom Harris and Bob White were coming down the river
to-day in a canoe," said Henry Burns, in the most innocent manner.
"And so they are. And you think we would play a joke on them the first
day they arrive, do you? I believe you would get up in the night, Henry
Burns, to play a joke on your own grandmother. No, sirree, count me out
of that," said George Warren. "It will be time enough to play jokes on
them after they get here. I don't believe in treating friends in that
way."
"Rather a mean thing to do, I think," said Arthur Warren.
"I'm out of it," said Joe.
"It doesn't occur to any of you to ask what the joke is, does it?" asked
Henry Burns, dryly.
"Don't want to know," replied George.
"Nor I, either," said Arthur.
"Keep it to play on Witham," said Joe.
"Then I'll enlighten you without your asking," continued Henry Burns,
nothing abashed. "You did not notice, perhaps, that though your friends,
Tom and Bob, did not come ashore to-day, their baggage did, and it is
back there on the wharf. Now I propose that we get John Briggs to let us
take his wheelbarrow, wheel their traps over to the point, pitch their
tent for them, and have everything ready by the time they get here. It's
rather a mean thing to do, I know, and not the kind of a trick I'd play
on old Witham; but there's nothing particular on hand in that line for
to-day."
Henry Burns paused, with a sly twinkle in his eyes, to note the effect of
his words.
"Capital!" roared George Warren, slapping Henry Burns again on the back,
regardless of the delicate state of that young gentleman's health. "We
might have known better than to take Henry Burns seriously."
"Same old Henry Burns," said Arthur. "Take notice, boys, that he never is
beaten in anything he sets his heart on, and that his delicate health
will never, never be any better;" and he was about to imitate his elder
brother's example in the matter of a punch at Henry Burns, but the
latter, though of slighter build, grappled with him, and after a moment's
friendly wrestling laid him on his back on the greensward, thereby
illustrating the force of his remark as to Henry Burns's invincibility.
The suggestion was at once followed. Within an hour the boys had wheeled
the baggage of the campers to a point of land overlooking the bay.
"It's all here," said Henry Burns, finally, as two of the boys deposited
a big canvas bag, containing the tent, upon the grass, "except that one
box
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WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD
By E. M. Forster
Chapter 1
They were all at Charing Cross to see Lilia off--Philip, Harriet, Irma,
Mrs. Herriton herself. Even Mrs. Theobald, squired by Mr. Kingcroft,
had braved the journey from Yorkshire to bid her only daughter good-bye.
Miss Abbott was likewise attended by numerous relatives, and the sight
of so many people talking at once and saying such different things
caused Lilia to break into ungovernable peals of laughter.
"Quite an ovation," she cried, sprawling out of her first-class
carriage. "They'll take us for royalty. Oh, Mr. Kingcroft, get us
foot-warmers."
The good-natured young man hurried away, and Philip, taking his place,
flooded her with a final stream of advice and injunctions--where to
stop, how to learn Italian, when to use mosquito-nets, what pictures
to look at. "Remember," he concluded, "that it is only by going off the
track that you get to know the country. See the little towns--Gubbio,
Pienza, Cortona, San Gemignano, Monteriano. And don't, let me beg
you, go with that awful tourist idea that Italy's only a museum of
antiquities and art. Love and understand the Italians, for the people
are more marvellous than the land."
"How I wish you were coming, Philip," she said, flattered at the
unwonted notice her brother-in-law was giving her.
"I wish I were." He could have managed it without great difficulty,
for his career at the Bar was not so intense as to prevent occasional
holidays. But his family disliked his continual visits to the Continent,
and he himself often found pleasure in the idea that he was too busy to
leave town.
"Good-bye, dear every one. What a whirl!" She caught sight of her little
daughter Irma, and felt that a touch of maternal solemnity was required.
"Good-bye, darling. Mind you're always good, and do what Granny tells
you."
She referred not to her own mother, but to her mother-in-law, Mrs.
Herriton, who hated the title of Granny.
Irma lifted a serious face to be kissed, and said cautiously, "I'll do
my best."
"She is sure to be good," said Mrs. Herriton, who was standing pensively
a little out of the hubbub. But Lilia was already calling to Miss
Abbott, a tall, grave, rather nice-looking young lady who was conducting
her adieus in a more decorous manner on the platform.
"Caroline, my Caroline! Jump in, or your chaperon will go off without
you."
And Philip, whom the idea of Italy always intoxicated, had started
again, telling her of the supreme moments of her coming journey--the
Campanile of Airolo, which would burst on her when she emerged from the
St. Gothard tunnel, presaging the future; the view of the Ticino and
Lago Maggiore as the train climbed the <DW72>s of Monte Cenere; the view
of Lugano, the view of Como--Italy gathering thick around her now--the
arrival at her first resting-place, when, after long driving through
dark and dirty streets, she should at last behold, amid the roar of
trams and the glare of arc lamps, the buttresses of the cathedral of
Milan.
"Handkerchiefs and collars," screamed Harriet, "in my inlaid box! I've
lent you my inlaid box."
"Good old Harry!" She kissed every one again, and there was a moment's
silence. They all smiled steadily, excepting Philip, who was choking in
the fog, and old Mrs. Theobald, who had begun to cry. Miss Abbott got
into the carriage. The guard himself shut the door, and told Lilia that
she would be all right. Then the train moved, and they all moved with it
a couple of steps, and waved their handkerchiefs, and uttered cheerful
little cries. At that moment Mr. Kingcroft reappeared, carrying a
footwarmer by both ends, as if it was a tea-tray. He was sorry that
he was too late, and called out in a quivering voice, "Good-bye, Mrs.
Charles. May you enjoy yourself, and may God bless you."
Lilia smiled and nodded, and then the absurd position of the foot-warmer
overcame her, and she began to laugh again.
"Oh, I am so sorry," she cried back, "but you do look so funny. Oh, you
all look so funny waving! Oh, pray!" And laughing helplessly, she was
carried out into the fog.
"High spirits to begin so long a journey," said Mrs. Theob
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MRS PEIXADA
By Henry Harland (AKA Sidney Luska)
Author of “As It Was Written,” etc., etc.
Cassell & Company, Limited, 739 & 741 Broadway, New York.
1886
CONTENTS
MRS. PEIXADA.
CHAPTER I—A CASE IS STATED.
CHAPTER II.—“A VOICE, A MYSTERY.”
CHAPTER III.—STATISTICAL.
CHAPTER IV.—“THAT NOT IMPOSSIBLE SHE.”
CHAPTER V.—“A NOTHING STARTS THE SPRING.”
CHAPTER VI.—“THE WOMAN WHO HESITATES.”
CHAPTER VII.—ENTER MRS. PEIXADA.
CHAPTER VIII.—“WHAT REST TO-NIGHT?”
CHAPTER IX.—AN ORDEAL.
CHAPTER X.—“SICK OF A FEVER.”
CHAPTER XI.—“HOW SHE ENDEAVORED TO EXPLAIN HER LIFE.”
CHAPTER XII.—“THE FINAL STATE O’ THE STORY.”
MRS. PEIXADA.
CHAPTER I—A CASE IS STATED.
ON more than one account the 25th of April will always be a notable
anniversary in the calendar of Mr. Arthur Ripley. To begin with, on that
day he pocketed his first serious retainer as a lawyer.
He got down-town a little late that morning. The weather was
superb—blue sky and summer temperature. Central Park was within easy
walking distance. His own engagements, alas, were not pressing. So he
had treated himself to an afterbreakfast ramble across the common.
On entering his office, toward eleven o’clock, he was surprised to
find the usually empty chairs already tenanted. Mr. Mendel, the brewer,
was established there, in company with two other gentlemen whom Arthur
did not recognize. The sight of these visitors caused the young man a
palpitation. Could it be—? He dared not complete the thought. That a
client had at last sought him out, was too agreeable an hypothesis to be
entertained.
Mr. Mendel greeted him with the effusiveness for which he is
distinguished, and introduced his companions respectively as Mr. Peixada
and Mr. Rimo. Of old time, when Arthur’s father was still alive,
and when Arthur himself had trotted about in knee-breeches and short
jackets, Mr. Mendel had been their next door neighbor. Now he made
the lawyer feel undignified by asking a string of personal questions:
“Vail, how iss mamma?” and “Not married yet, eh?” and “Lieber
Gott! You must be five-and-twenty—so tall, and with dot long
mustache—yes?” And so forth; smiling the while with such benevolence
that Arthur could not help answering politely, though he did hope that
a desire for family statistics was not the sole motive of the brewer’s
visit.
But by and by Mendel cleared his throat, and assumed a look of
importance. His voice modulated into a graver key, as he announced,
“The fact is that we—or rather, my friends, Mr. Peixada and Mr.
Rimo—want to consult you about a little matter of business.” He
leaned back in his chair, drawing a deep breath, as though the speech
had exhausted him; mopped his brow with his handkerchief, and flourished
his thumb toward Peixada.
“Ah,” replied Arthur, bowing to the latter, “I am happy to be at
your service, sir.”
“Yes,” said Peixada, in a voice several sizes larger than the
situation required, “Mr. Mendel recommends you to us as a young man
who is smart, and who, at the same time, is not so busy but that he can
bestow upon our affairs the attention we wish them to have.”
Notwithstanding Arthur’s delight at the prospect of something to
do, Peixada’s tone, a mixture as it was of condescension and
imperiousness, jarred a little. Arthur did not like the gratuitous
assumption that he was “not so busy,” etc., true though it might
be; nor did he like the critical way in which Peixada eyed him.
“Indeed,” he said, speaking of it afterward, “it gave me very much
such a sensation as a fellow must experience when put up for sale in the
Turkish slave market—a feeling that my ’points’ were being noted,
and my money value computed. I half expected him to continue, ’Open
your mouth, show your teeth!’.rdquo; Peixada was a tall, portly
individual of fifty-odd, with a swarthy skin, brown, beady eyes, a black
coat upon his back, and a fat gold ring around his middle finger. The
top of his head was as bald as a Capuchin’s, and shone like a disk of
varnished box-wood. It was surrounded by a circlet of crisp, dark,
curly hair. He had a solemn manner that proclaimed him to be a person
of consequence. It turned out that he was president of a one-horse
insurance company. Mr. Rimo appeared to be but slightly in advance
of Arthur’s own age—a tiny strip of a body, wearing a resplendent
cravat, a dotted waistcoat, pointed patent-leather gaiters, and
finger-nails trimmed talon-shape—a thoroughbred New York dandy, of the
least effeminate type.
“I suppose the name, Peixada,” the elder of the pair went on, “is
not wholly unfamiliar to you.”
“Oh, no—by no means,” Arthur assented, wondering whether he had
ever heard it before.
“I suppose the circumstances of my brother’s death are still fresh
in your mind.”
Arthur put on an intelligent expression, and inwardly deplored his
ignorance. Yet—Peixada?
Peixada? the name did have a familiar ring, of a truth. But where and in
what connection had he heard it?
“Let me see,” he ventured, “that was in—?”
“In July, ’seventy-nine—recollect?”
Ah, yes; to be sure; he recollected. So this man was a brother of the
Peixada who, rather less than half a dozen years ago, had been murdered,
and whose murder had set New York agog. In a general way Arthur recalled
the glaring accounts of the matter that had appeared in the newspapers
at the time. “Yes,” he said, feeling that it behooved him to say
something, “it was very sad.”
“Fearful!” put in Mr. Mendel.
“Of course,” Peixada resumed, in his pompous style, “of course you
followed the trial as it was reported in the public prints; but perhaps
you have forgotten the particulars. Had I better refresh your memory?”
“That would be a good idea,” said Arthur.—To what was the way
being paved?
With the air of performing a ceremony, Peixada rose, unbuttoned his
coat, extracted a bulky envelope from the inner pocket, re-seated
himself, and handed the envelope to Arthur. It proved to contain
newspaper clippings. “Please glance them through,” said Peixada.
The Peixada murder had been a sensational and peculiarly revolting
affair. One July night, 1879, Mr. Bernard Peixada, “a retired Jewish
merchant,” had died at the hands of his wife. Edward Bolen, coachman,
in the attempt to protect his employer, had sustained a death-wound for
himself. Mrs. Peixada, “the perpetrator of these atrocities,” as
Arthur gathered from the records now beneath his eye, “was a young
and handsome woman, of a respectable Hebrew family, who must have been
actuated by a depraved desire to possess herself of her husband’s
wealth.” They had “surprised her all but red-handed in the
commission of the crime,” though “too late to avert its dire
results.” Eventually she was tried in the Court of General Sessions,
and acquitted on the plea of insanity. Arthur remembered—as, perhaps,
the reader does—that her acquittal had been the subject of much
popular indignation. “She is no more insane than you or I,” every
body had said; “she is simply lacking in the moral sense. Another
evidence that you can’t get a jury to be impartial when a pretty woman
is concerned.”
“She was bad,” continued Peixada, as Arthur returned the papers,
“bad through and through. I warned my brother against her before his
marriage.
“‘What,’ said I, ’what do you suppose she would marry an old man
like you for, except your money?’ He said, ’Never mind.’ She was
young and showy, and Bernard lost his head.”
“She was doocedly handsome, a sooperb creature to look at, you
know,” cried Mr. Rimo, with the accent of a connoisseur.
“Hainsome is as hainsome does,” quoth Mr. Mendel, sententiously.
“She was as cold as ice, as hard as alabaster,” said Peixada,
perhaps meaning adamant. “The point is that after her release from
prison she took out letters of administration upon my brother’s
estate.”
“Why, I thought she was insane,” said Arthur. “A mad woman would
not be a competent administratrix.”
“Exactly. I interposed objections on that ground. But she answered
that she had recovered; that although insane a few months before—at
the time of the murder—she was all right again now. The surrogate
decided in her favor. A convenient form of insanity, eh?”
“Were there children?” Arthur inquired.
“No—none. My nephew, Mr. Rimo, son of my sister who is dead, and I
myself, were the only next of kin. She paid us our shares right away.”
Then what could he be driving at now? Arthur waited for enlightenment.
“But now,” Peixada presently went on, “now I have discovered that
my brother left a will.”
“Ah, I understand. You wish to have it admitted to probate?”
“Precisely. But first I wish to find Mrs. Peixada. The will isn’t
worth the paper it’s written on, unless we can get hold of her. You
see, she has about half the property in her possession.”
“There was no real estate?”
“Not an acre; but the personalty amounted to a good many thousands of
dollars.”
“And you don’t know where she is?”
“I haven’t an idea.”
“Have you made any efforts to find out?”
“Well, I should say I had—made every effort in my power. That’s
what brings me here. I want you to carry on the search.”
“I shouldn’t imagine it would be hard work. A woman—a widow—of
wealth is always a conspicuous object—trebly so, when she is handsome
too, and has been tried for murder. But tell me, what, have you done?”
“You’ll be surprised when you hear. I myself supposed it would
be plain sailing. But listen.” Peixada donned a pair of gold-rimmed
spectacles, opened a red leather memorandum-book, and read aloud from
its pages. The substance of what he read was this. He had begun by
visiting Mrs. Peixada’s attorneys, Messrs. Short and Sondheim, the
firm that had defended her at her trial. With them he got his labor
for his pains. They had held no communication with the lady in question
since early in January, 1881, at which date they had settled her
accounts before the surrogate. She was then traveling from place to
place in Europe. Her last letter, postmarked Vienna, had said that for
the next two months her address would be poste restante at the same
city. From the office of Short and Sondheim Mr. Peixada went to the
office of his sister-in-law’s surety, the Eagle and Phoenix Trust
Company, No.—Broadway. There he was referred to the secretary, Mr.
Oxford. Mr. Oxford told him that the Company had never had any personal
dealings with the administratrix, she having acted throughout by her
attorneys. The Company had required the entire assets of the estate to
be deposited in its vaults, and had honored drafts only on the advice
of counsel. Thus protected, the Company had had no object in keeping
the administratrix in view. Our inquirer next bethought him of Mrs.
Peixada’s personal friends—people who would be likely still to
maintain relations with her—and saw such of these as he could get at.
One and all professed ignorance of her whereabouts—had not heard of
her or from her since the winter of ’80—’81. Finally it occurred
to him that as his brother’s estate had consisted solely of stocks and
bonds, he could by properly directed investigations learn to what corner
of the world Mrs. Peixada’s dividends were sent. But this last
resort also proved a failure. The stocks and bonds, specified in the
surrogate’s inventory, had been sold out. He could find no clew to the
reinvestments made of the money realized.
Peixada closed his note-book with a snap.
“You see,” he said, “I’ve been pretty thorough
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E-text prepared by sp1nd, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive (http://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 41767-h.htm or 41767-h.zip:
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Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
http://archive.org/details/heroofpanamatale00breriala
THE HERO OF PANAMA
A Tale of the Great Canal
by
CAPTAIN F. S. BRERETON
Author of "Under the Chinese Dragon," "Tom Stapleton, the Boy
Scout," "The Great Aeroplane," "Indian and Scout," &c.
Illustrated by William Rainey, R.I.
Blackie and Son Limited
London Glasgow and Bombay
1912
[Illustration: JIM RESCUES PHINEAS BARTON]
Contents
CHAP. PAGE
I. A POST OF RESPONSIBILITY 9
II. EN ROUTE FOR NEW YORK 23
III. JIM PARTINGTON SHOWS HIS METTLE 40
IV. RELATING TO PHINEAS BARTON 59
V. THE WAYS OF THE STEAM DIGGER 77
VI. A SHOT IN THE DARK 95
VII. THE LAIR OF THE ROBBERS 114
VIII. IN HOT PURSUIT 133
IX. JIM BECOMES A MECHANIC 152
X. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 171
XI. BARELY ESCAPED 192
XII. AN AMERICAN UNDERTAKING 215
XIII. HUSTLE THE ORDER OF THE DAY 235
XIV. THE RUNAWAY SPOIL TRAIN 256
XV. JAIME DE OTEROS FORMS PLANS 276
XVI. THE MAJOR FORMS HIS PARTIES 297
XVII. ON THE TRACK OF MISCREANTS 317
XVIII. RESCUE BY MOONLIGHT 337
XIX. JIM MEETS WITH A SURPRISE 357
XX. SUCCESS TO THE PANAMA CANAL 375
Illustrations
Page
JIM RESCUES PHINEAS BARTON _Frontispiece_ 46
"STAND AWAY FROM THOSE BOATS" 32
JIM IN A TIGHT CORNER 118
WAITING FOR THE ENEMY 150
ATTACKED BY NATIVES 212
"JIM TUGGED WITH ALL HIS MIGHT" 262
THE RESCUE OF SADIE 338
"IT'S GEORGE, GEORGE COME BACK TO LIFE!" 358
THE HERO OF PANAMA
[Illustration: The PANAMA CANAL]
CHAPTER I
A Post of Responsibility
It was one of those roasting days in the Caribbean, when, in spite of a
steady trade wind, the air felt absolutely motionless, and the sea took
on an oily surface from which the sun flashed in a thousand directions,
in rays that seemed to have been lent some added fierceness by the
reflection.
Squish! Squelsh! The ground surf, which was hardly perceptible from the
coast, and scarcely so from the deck of a liner, was apparent enough
from the old tub which wallowed in it. She rolled in a manner that was
sickening to behold, until at times her scupper ports took in water,
then a surge of the ocean would take her in a different direction; she
would dive forward, dipping her nose in the oily sea till the hawser
which had been passed out over her stern, secured to a large anchor,
brought her up with a jerk and tumbled her backwards with her stern rail
awash.
Ugh! It was enough to make a white man groan. Even a <DW65> would have
been inclined to grumble. But the Chinamen aboard the tub seemed, if
anything, rather to enjoy this rocking. One of them stood almost
amidships, his feet wide apart to preserve his balance, while he gripped
the handle of the pump he was working, and turned it over and over with
a monotonous regularity that seemed to match with his surroundings.
The man, who was barefooted, boasted of the very lightest of clothing,
and wore his pigtail rolled in a coil at the back of his head. Other
protection against the roasting sun he had none. Indeed, to look at him,
he hardly seemed to need it, while the hot blast which came from the
adjacent land passed over him without any apparent effect. Ching Hu was
in his element.
"Nicee place, missee," he sang out after a while. "Plenty nicee and
warmee. Stay long? No? Velly solly."
On he went, turning the handle without a pause, while there crept into
his slanting eyes just a trace of disappointment. He sighed ever so
gently, then assumed his accustomed expression. Not the wisest man in
all the world could have said whether Ching Hu were happy or otherwise.
Just about ten feet from him, sheltered beneath a narrow awning of dirty
canvas, a girl stood on the deck of the small ship, or, rather, she
occupied a projection which overhung the water. Had this vessel been a
liner, one would have guessed that this projection was the gangway from
which the ladder descended towards the water to enable passengers to
come aboard. But here a rapid inspection proved it to be merely a
platform built out from the side, and suspended some eight feet from the
surface of the ocean. From it a clear view of the ship's side was to be
obtained, and, in these wonderfully clear waters, of the sandy bottom of
the lagoon at whose entrance the vessel was moored. And it was upon the
latter, upon the bottom of this heaving ocean, that Sadie Partington's
eyes were directed.
"Ching," she called out suddenly, turning towards him, "I think they'll
be coming up right now. Call the boys."
"You sure, missee? Yes? Velly well."
Ching Hu raised his eyebrows quaintly as he asked the question, and on
receiving a nod from the girl, who at once turned to stare into the
water, he raised his voice and called aloud in a sing-song style which
would have made a stranger laugh. "Tom, Tom!" he shouted. "You comee now
wid Sam. Wanted plenty soon."
A black face popped instantly from the caboose leading to the cabin--a
big, round face, the face of a <DW64> of some thirty years of age. Then
the shoulders came into view, and following them the whole figure of the
man. He stood for a moment or two on the topmost step, balancing himself
against the edge of the caboose, one hand gripping a plate, while the
other vigorously polished it with a cloth. It gave one an opportunity of
thoroughly inspecting this <DW64>, and promptly one was filled with a
feeling of pleasure. It was not because Tom was handsome, for he was the
reverse of that. Nature had, indeed, liberally provided him with nose
and lips, so much so that those two portions of his physiognomy were
the most prominent at first sight. But if his nose were somewhat
flattened and decidedly wide, and his lips undoubtedly big and
prominent, Tom was possessed of other features which counterbalanced
these detractions. His eyes seemed to attract attention at once. They
seemed to smile at all and sundry on the instant, and flash a message to
them. They were shining, honest eyes, which looked as if they could do
nothing else but smile. Then the man's mouth completed his appearance of
joviality; between the lips a gleaming double row of ivories were always
to be seen, for Tom's smile was permanent. The smallest matter was
sufficient to increase it, when the <DW64>'s ample face would be divided
by a gaping chasm, a six-foot smile that could not be easily
banished--the prelude to a roar of mirth and of deep-toned, spontaneous
laughter. As for the rest of him, Tom was a monster. Six-feet-three in
height, he was broad and thickset, and beside the dainty figure of Sadie
Partington had the appearance of a veritable elephant.
"What you say, Chinaboy?" he asked, regarding the placid individual
working the pump. "Come plenty soon, eh?"
"Ye-e-s. Missee say now."
"Den dinner be spoiled for sure. Taters boiled to rags ef I wait little
minute. Stew no good ef left on fire for longer dan five minute. Missee,
what you say dey doin'? They ain't gwine ter move yet?"
"Call Sam; you know as well as I do that the stew won't be spoiled. Come
now, they're going to signal."
Sadie turned upon the <DW64> with a frown, then again bent her eyes
towards the bottom of the sea; for the girl was always ill at ease when
the divers were working. Somehow or other, since her brothers had taken
to this particular profession--and she had accompanied them upon their
various trips--she had felt impelled to take upon herself the duty of
watching them at work. She was only eleven now, though tall and old for
her age, and for a year past she had almost daily taken her post on that
tiny gangway to watch the two figures moving in the water below. For
hours together she would be on the deck of this little boat, careless of
the sun and heat, superintending the action of the pump and waiting for
signals from the divers. And to Ching Hu, Tom, and the others her
veriest nod was law. It was useless to argue with her: Sadie had a way
of stamping her small foot which meant a great deal, and set all the men
running to do her bidding. It was, therefore, with some show of alacrity
that Tom prepared to follow his instructions.
"You Chinaboy," he commanded, grinning at a second Chinaman, who
occupied the little galley down below, "yo make sure not boil de taters
too much, and sniff dat stew. Not burn um, or, by de poker, Tom make yo
smile. Yo comprenez what I say? Eh?"
He grinned one of his most expansive grins, and the Chinaman responded
in a similar manner. He jerked his head in Tom's direction, thrusting it
out of the galley door as he did so, and sending his pigtail flying. His
little, pig-like eyes rolled while he brandished an enormous wooden
spoon. "Ling knowee eberyting," he lisped. "See to dinner fine. Hab de
stew beautiful."
"Den yo come along, yo Sam, lazy feller," shouted Tom at the pitch of
his voice. "Whar yo got to, boy? I gives yo de biggest--oh, so yo dare!"
he exclaimed, as a <DW64> came from the after gangway, where a small
ladder led to some of the men's quarters. "Yo's been sleepin'."
Tom held out an accusing finger, and gripped his comrade by the bare
arm; for, without shadow of doubt, Sam's eyes were blinking. He had the
appearance of a man who has just awakened. But the <DW64> shook his head
vigorously.
"Yo let go my arm, Tom, yo big elephant," he said, grinning widely.
"I'se been down b'low fetchin' a bucket o' coal. What yo want?"
"Missie dar order us both; de boys is comin' up."
Tom still gripped the second <DW64>, and playfully lifted him from off
his feet as if he were merely a child, then he set him down against the
ship's rail, while the two at once stared into the water. Truly they
might have been described as brothers, so very alike were Tom and Sam in
appearance. In fact, had their two heads been alone protruding from a
window even Sadie would have been troubled to distinguish between them;
but the similarity ended with the faces. Tom was huge, Sam was barely
five feet in height, and slim in proportion; but he seemed to have
inherited all the dignity which Tom had missed. Merry enough at all
times, Sam was inclined to be a trifle pompous, and of a Sunday, when in
port, his get-up generally was sufficient to open the eyes of everyone
who beheld him. Now, however, his feet were bare, and he wore but a
shirt and loose cotton trousers.
Let us join them at the rail and stare over into the water. Beneath the
oily surface a wide stretch of yellowish-white sand was spread out on
every hand, till it became a greenish tinge, and was finally lost in the
blurr of the ocean; but directly beneath the ship it sparkled in the
sun, while one could easily see the tiniest prominence, the few rocks
existing here and there, and the deep shadow of the ship riding to her
anchors. A derrick was rigged out over the rail, close to the platform
occupied by Sadie, and from this was suspended a long wooden ladder,
with ponderous weights attached to its lower end. Close at hand, through
a sort of stirrup, passed a couple of ropes, while the piping conveying
air to those below ran out over the gangway. It was there, too, that the
smaller signal lines were attached.
As Tom and Sam looked over, their eyes caught the reflection from two
metal objects down below, and very soon the latter became apparent as
the helmets of the divers. They could see the two--for there were that
number at work--seated on a huge boulder, side by side, while within
some fifteen feet of them were the broken timbers and debris of what had
once upon a time been a vessel.
"They've sat like that this past fifteen minutes," explained Sadie.
"Seems that there's nothing to be found in the wreck. They'll be wanting
to be hauled aboard in a minute. There's George moving."
As she spoke, one of the helmets swung slowly backwards, while the eyes
inside peered aloft. Then there came a jerk at the life line. Sadie
instantly responded.
"Coming up," she said. "Get a hold of the tackle, boys."
She still kept her place, superintending operations, while Tom and Sam
together gripped the tackle, and, having pulled gently at first, began
to haul lustily. In a little while one of the divers had reached the
foot of the weighted ladder. At once the tackle was slacked off, while
all watched the man slowly ascending from the depths, dipping deeper as
the swell rolled the ship, and coming nearer the surface as she returned
to an even keel. Then, with a squelch, the top of the shining helmet
broke through the surface, the man reached the rail, and was lifted
aboard. Sadie proceeded at once to loosen the screws securing the helmet
to the rest of the dress, and lifted the huge metal globe from off the
shoulders of the seated man.
"What luck, George?" she asked impetuously, staring anxiously into his
face, and noticing how tired the man seemed, and how sallow he was. "You
found something? It's going to pay?"
"Not if we work a year at it," came the answer in a dull, despondent
tone of voice. "Help me to get this dress off, Sadie, my dear. I'm
burning in it. I've felt smothered, so hot that I couldn't work down
below. Jim's coming up at once."
The second diver was, in fact, already being hauled up, and anyone who
happened to have watched the first make his ascent from the depths would
at once have remarked the difference between the two. For the diver who
now sat on a box on the swaying deck of the small vessel was bigger
than he who was ascending; at the same time his movements had been far
less active. The one now nearing the top of the ladder clambered up the
rungs with the agility of a cat, in spite of the fact that every foot he
rose made the weights he carried on his back and chest and on his boots
all the heavier. His helmet shot out of the water with a burst, as the
vessel rolled heavily, pulling the ladder up, only to throw it back at
once.
"You hold on dar tight, yo, Massa Jim," shouted Tom, as he leaned over
the rail. "Yo tink dis all a beanfeast. Not so when de ship roll so
much. S'pose yo lose de hold. Buzz! Yo go right down to de bottom and
stay dere fer good. Huh! Come in."
He gripped the extended hand of the diver, hauled the boy aboard, and
promptly seated him on a second box. Three minutes later the helmet was
off, and one had an opportunity of contrasting the young fellow who had
appeared with the diver who had first of all ascended.
The latter was a young man of twenty-five perhaps, and, as we have said,
was decidedly sallow and unhealthy-looking; in fact, natural good looks
were marred not a little by his complexion. But with the one who had
been addressed as Jim it was different. The young fellow was barely
seventeen years of age, and his rosy cheeks displayed the fact that
diving did not disagree with him. Then, too, his voice was so different.
It was crisp and laughing, and anything but despondent; while, when he
had rid himself of his diving weights and of his heavy boots, and was
on his feet, one saw that he was of a good height, held himself well,
and moved with the quick step that one might have expected from having
seen him clamber from the depths of the ocean. But there was concern in
his face when Sadie called him.
"George don't feel over well, Jim," she called out. "He said a minute
back that he was burning hot; now he's downright shivering."
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CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
By Fyodor Dostoevsky
Translated By Constance Garnett
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
A few words about Dostoevsky himself may help the English reader to
understand his work.
Dostoevsky was the son of a doctor. His parents were very hard-working
and deeply religious people, but so poor that they lived with their five
children in only two rooms. The father and mother spent their evenings
in reading aloud to their children, generally from books of a serious
character.
Though always sickly and delicate Dostoevsky came out third in the
final examination of the Petersburg school of Engineering. There he had
already begun his first work, "Poor Folk."
This story was published by the poet Nekrassov in his review and
was received with acclamations. The shy, unknown youth found himself
instantly something of a celebrity. A brilliant and successful career
seemed to open before him, but those hopes were soon dashed. In 1849 he
was arrested.
Though neither by temperament
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FROMONT AND RISLER
By ALPHONSE DAUDET
With a Preface by LECONTE DE LISLE, of the French Academy
ALPHONSE DAUDET
Nominally Daudet, with the Goncourts and Zola, formed a trio
representing Naturalism in fiction. He adopted the watchwords of that
school, and by private friendship, no less than by a common profession
of faith, was one of them. But the students of the future, while
recognizing an obvious affinity between the other two, may be puzzled to
find Daudet's name conjoined with theirs.
Decidedly, Daudet belonged to the Realistic School. But, above all, he
was an impressionist. All that can be observed--the individual picture,
scene, character--Daudet will render with wonderful accuracy, and all
his novels, especially those written after 1870, show an increasing
firmness of touch, limpidity of style, and wise simplicity in the use of
the sources of pathetic emotion, such as befit the cautious Naturalist.
Daudet wrote stories, but he had to be listened to. Feverish as his
method of writing was--true to his Southern character he took endless
pains to write well, revising every manuscript three times over from
beginning to end. He wrote from the very midst of the human comedy; and
it is from this that he seems at times to have caught the bodily warmth
and the taste of the tears and the very ring of the laughter of men and
women. In the earlier novels, perhaps, the transitions from episode to
episode or from scene to scene are often abrupt, suggesting the manner
of the Goncourts. But to Zola he forms an instructive contrast, of the
same school, but not of the same family. Zola is methodical, Daudet
spontaneous. Zola works with documents, Daudet from the living fact.
Zola is objective, Daudet with equal scope and fearlessness shows more
personal feeling and hence more delicacy. And in style also Zola is
vast, architectural; Daudet slight, rapid, subtle, lively, suggestive.
And finally, in their philosophy of life, Zola may inspire a hate of
vice and wrong, but Daudet wins a love for what is good and true.
Alphonse Daudet was born in Nimes, Provence, May 13, 1840. His father
had been a well-to-do silk manufacturer, but, while Alphonse was still a
child, lost his property. Poverty compelled the son to seek the wretched
post of usher (pion) in a school at Alais. In November, 1857, he settled
in Paris and joined his almost equally penniless brother Ernest. The
autobiography, 'Le Petit Chose' (1868), gives graphic details about this
period. His first years of literary life were those of an industrious
Bohemian, with poetry for consolation and newspaper work for bread.
He had secured a secretaryship with the Duc de Morny, President of the
Corps Legislatif, and had won recognition for his short stories in the
'Figaro', when failing health compelled him to go to Algiers. Returning,
he married toward that period a lady (Julia Allard, born 1847), whose
literary talent comprehended, supplemented, and aided his own. After
the death of the Duc de Morny (1865) he consecrated himself entirely to
literature and published 'Lettres de mon Moulin' (1868), which also made
his name favorably known. He now turned from fiction to the drama,
and it was not until after 1870 that he became fully conscious of his
vocation as a novelist, perhaps through the trials of the siege of Paris
and the humiliation of his country, which deepened his nature without
souring it. Daudet's genial satire, 'Tartarin de Tarascon', appeared
in 1872; but with the Parisian romance 'Fromont jeune et Risler aine',
crowned by the Academy (1874), he suddenly advanced into the foremost
rank of French novelists; it was his first great success, or, as he puts
it, "the dawn of his popularity."
How numberless editions of this book were printed, and rights of
translations sought from other countries, Daudet has told us with
natural pride. The book must be read to be appreciated. "Risler, a
self-made, honest man, raises himself socially into a society against
the corruptness of which he has no defence and from which he escapes
only by suicide. Sidonie Chebe is a peculiarly French type, a vain and
heartless woman; Delobelle, the actor, a delectable figure; the domestic
simplicity of Desiree Delobelle and her mother quite refreshing."
Success followed now after success. 'Jack (1876); Le Nabab (1877); Les
Rois en exil (1879); Numa Roumestan (1882); L'Evangeliste (1883); Sapho
(1884); Tartarin sur des Al
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HEROES OF THE TELEGRAPH
By J. Munro
Author Of 'Electricity And Its Uses,' Pioneers Of Electricity,'
'The Wire And The Wave'; And Joint Author Of 'Munro And Jamieson's
Pocket-Book Of Electrical Rules And Tables.'
(Note: All accents etc. have been omitted. Italics have been converted
to capital letters. The British 'pound' sign has been written as 'L'.
Footnotes have been placed in square brackets at the place in the text
where a suffix originally indicated their existence.)
PREFACE.
The present work is in some respects a sequel to the PIONEERS OF
ELECTRICITY, and it deals with the lives and principal achievements of
those distinguished men to whom we are indebted for the introduction
of the electric telegraph and telephone, as well as other marvels of
electric science.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I. THE ORIGIN OF THE TELEGRAPH
II. CHARLES WHEATSTONE
III. SAMUEL MORSE
IV. SIR WILLIAM THOMSON
V. SIR WILLIAM SIEMENS
VI. FLEEMING JENKIN
VII. JOHANN PHILIPP REIS
VIII. GRAHAM BELL
IX. THOMAS ALVA EDISON
X. DAVID EDWIN HUGHES
APPENDIX.
I. CHARLES FERDINAND GAUSS
II. WILLIAM EDWARD WEBER
III. SIR WILLIAM FOTHERGILL COOKE
IV. ALEXANDER BAIN
V. DR. WERNER SIEMENS
VI. LATIMER CLARK
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(From images generously made available by the Hathi Trust)
SYLVIE:
SOUVENIRS DU VALOIS
TRANSLATED FROM
GERARD DE NERVAL
BY
LUCIE PAGE
Portland, Maine
THOMAS B. MOSHER
1896
* * * * *
GERARD DE NERVAL.
Of all that were thy prisons--ah, untamed,
Ah, light and sacred soul!--none holds
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Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net.
[Illustration: _LEO'S FIRST APPEARANCE_]
LEO THE CIRCUS BOY;
or
LIFE UNDER THE GREAT WHITE CANVAS
BY CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL,
Author of "The Young Oarsmen of Lakeview," "The Rival
Bicyclists," "Gun and Sled," etc., etc.
CHICAGO:
_M. A. Donohue_ & Co.
_Copyright_, 1897.
_BY_
_W. L. Allison_ Co.
CONTENTS
- CHAPTER I.--A ROW AND ITS RESULT.
- CHAPTER II.--CAPTURING A RUNAWAY LION.
- CHAPTER III.--LEO LEAVES THE FARM.
- CHAPTER IV.--LEO JOINS THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH.
- CHAPTER V.--A LEAP OF GREAT PERIL.
- CHAPTER VI.--LEO ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS.
- CHAPTER VII.--LEO GAINS HIS LIBERTY.
- CHAPTER VIII.--AMONG THE CLOUDS IN A THUNDERSTORM.
- CHAPTER IX.--THE MAD ELEPHANT.
- CHAPTER X.--CAPTURING THE ELEPHANT.
- CHAPTER XI.--A CRIMINAL COMPACT.
- CHAPTER XII.--THE STOLEN CIRCUS TICKETS.
- CHAPTER XIII.--LEO MAKES A CHANGE.
- CHAPTER XIV.--LEO MAKES A NEW FRIEND.
- CHAPTER XV.--AN ACT NOT ON THE BILLS.
- CHAPTER XVI.--AN UNPLEASANT POSITION.
- CHAPTER XVII.--CARL SHOWS HIS BRAVERY.
- CHAPTER XVIII.--A WONDERFUL TRICK EXPLAINED.
- CHAPTER XIX.--WAMPOLE'S NEW SCHEME.
- CHAPTER XX.--ANOTHER STOP ON THE ROAD.
- CHAPTER XXI.--AN UNEXPECTED BATH.
- CHAPTER XXII.--WAMPOLE SHOWS HIS HAND.
- CHAPTER XXIII.--THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH ONCE MORE.
- CHAPTER XXIV.--IN THE CIRCUS RING AGAIN.
- CHAPTER XXV.--ANOTHER BALLOON TRIP.
- CHAPTER XXVI.--ADVENTURES AMID THE FLAMES.
- CHAPTER XXVII.--ESCAPE FROM THE BURNING FOREST.
- CHAPTER XXVIII.--THE RIVAL BALLOONISTS.
- CHAPTER XXIX.--PORLER'S MOVE.
- CHAPTER XXX.--MART KEENE'S STORY.
- CHAPTER XXXI.--A FALL FROM THE CLOUDS.
- CHAPTER XXXII.--MART A PRISONER.
- CHAPTER XXXIII.--LEO TO THE RESCUE.
- CHAPTER XXXIV.--THE END OF PORLER.
- CHAPTER XXXV.--A COWARDLY ATTACK.
- CHAPTER XXXVI.--ON THE ELEVATED TRACKS.
- CHAPTER XXXVII.--THE CAPTURE OF GRISWOLD.
- CHAPTER XXXVIII.--GOOD-BY TO THE CIRCUS BOY.
Leo the Circus Boy
CHAPTER I.--A ROW AND ITS RESULT.
"Land sakes alive, Daniel, look at that boy!"
"Where is he, Marthy?"
"Up there on the old apple tree a-hangin' down by his toes! My gracious,
does he wanter kill himself?"
"Thet's wot he does, Marthy," grumbled old Daniel Hawkins. "He'll do it,
jest so ez we kin pay his funeral expenses. Never seen sech a boy before
in my born days!"
"Go after him with the horsewhip, Daniel. Oh! goodness gracious, look at
thet now!"
And the woman, or, rather, Tartar, Mrs. Martha Hawkins, held up her
hands in terror as the boy on the apple tree suddenly gave a swing,
released his feet, and, with a graceful turn forward, landed on his feet
on the ground.
"Wot do yer mean by sech actions, yer young good-fer-nothin'?" cried
Daniel Hawkins, rushing forward, his face full of sudden rage. "Do yer
want ter break yer wuthless neck?"
"Not much, I don't," replied the boy, with a little smile creeping over
his sunburned, handsome face. "I'm afraid if I did that I would never
get over it, Mr. Hawkins."
"Don't try ter joke me, Leo Dunbar, or I'll
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THE
NURSERY
_A Monthly Magazine_
FOR YOUNGEST READERS.
VOLUME XXX.--No. 1.
BOSTON:
THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY,
NO. 36 BROMFIELD STREET.
1881.
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1881, by
THE NURSERY PUBLISHING COMPANY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
[Illustration: JOHN WILSON & SON UNIVERSITY PRESS]
[Illustration: Contents.]
IN PROSE.
PAGE
Hide and Seek 193
Flowers for Mamma 195
Outwitted 197
Zip <DW53> 199
The Fuss in the Poultry-Yard 201
Our Charley 206
Drawing-Lesson 209
More about "Parley-voo" 210
The old Pump 214
Winter on Lake Constance 215
Swan-upping 216
The Man in the Moon 219
The Boy and the Cat 220
IN VERSE.
Hammock Song 196
Rosie and the Pigs 198
What's up 203
Minding Mother 204
Peet-Weet 207
Baby's Ride 212
Baby-Brother 222
Under Green Leaves (_with music_) 224
[Illustration]
[Illustration: HIDE AND SEEK.
VOL. XXX.--
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Transcriber’s Notes
Illustrations at the beginning and end of chapters are decorative
headpieces and tailpieces.
Other Notes will be found at the end of this eBook.
Heroes of the Nations
A Series of Biographical Studies presenting the lives and work of
certain representative historical characters, about whom have
gathered the traditions of the nations to which they belong,
and who have, in the majority of instances, been accepted as
types of the several national ideals.
12°, Illustrated, cloth, each $1.50
Half Leather, gilt top, each $1.75
Nos. 33 and following Nos. net $1.35
Each (By mail, $1.50)
Half Leather, gilt top net $1.60
(By mail, $1.75)
FOR FULL LIST SEE END OF THIS VOLUME
Heroes of the Nations
EDITED BY
H. W. Carless Davis
FELLOW OF ALL SOULS COLLEGE, OXFORD
FACTA DUCIS VIVENT OPEROSAQUE
GLORIA RERUM.—OVID, IN LIVIAM, 266.
THE HERO’S DEEDS AND HARD-WON
FAME SHALL LIVE.
FREDERICK THE GREAT
[Illustration: FREDERICK THE GREAT.
AFTER THE PAINTING BY CARLO VANLOO.]
FREDERICK THE GREAT
AND THE RISE OF PRUSSIA
BY
W. F. REDDAWAY, M.A.
FELLOW AND LECTURER OF KING’S COLLE
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
This etext contains only characters from the Latin-1 set. The original
work contained a few phrases of Greek text. These are represented here
as Beta-code transliterations in brackets, e.g. [Greek: Liakyra].
The original text used a few other characters not found in the Latin-1
set. These have been represented using bracket notation: [=a], [=i] [=e]
represent those letters with a macron. A few instances of superscript
letters are indicated by carets, as in "Concluded, Canto 2^d, Smyrna,
March 28^th^."
An important feature of this edition is its copious notes, which are of
three types. Notes indexed with a number and a letter, for example
[4.B.], are end-notes provided by Byron or, following Canto IV, by J. C.
Hobhouse. These notes follow each Canto.
Poems and end-notes have footnotes. Footnotes indexed with lowercase
letters (e.g. [c], [bf]) show variant forms of Byron's text from
manuscripts and other sources. Footnotes indexed with arabic numbers
(e.g. [17], [221]) are informational. In the original, footnotes are
printed at the foot of the page on which they are referenced, and their
indices start over on each page. In this etext, footnotes have been
collected at the end of each section, and have been numbered
consecutively throughout the book. Within each block of footnotes are
numbers in braces, e.g. {321}. These represent the page number on which
the following notes originally appeared. To find a note that was
originally printed on page 27, search for {27}.
Text in footnotes and end-notes in square brackets is the work of Editor
E. H. Coleridge. Note text not in brackets is by Byron or Hobhouse. In
certain notes on variant text, the editor showed deleted text struck
through with lines. The struck-through words are noted here with braces
and dashes, as in {-deleted words-}.
The Works
OF
LORD BYRON.
A NEW, REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION,
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
Poetry. Vol. II.
EDITED BY
ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE, M.A.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.
1899.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND VOLUME.
The text of the present edition of _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_ is based
upon a collation of volume i. of the Library Edition, 1855, with the
following MSS.: (i.) the original MS. of the First and Second Cantos, in
Byron's handwriting [MS. M.]; (ii.) a transcript of the First and Second
Cantos, in the handwriting of R. C. Dallas [D.]; (iii.) a transcript of
the Third Canto, in the handwriting of Clara Jane Clairmont [C.]; (iv.)
a collection of "scraps," forming a first draft of the Third Canto, in
Byron's handwriting [MS.]; (v.) a fair copy of the first draft of the
Fourth Canto, together with the MS. of the additional stanzas, in
Byron's handwriting. [MS. M.]; (vi.) a second fair copy of the Fourth
Canto, as completed, in Byron's handwriting [D.].
The text of the First and Second Cantos has also been collated with the
text of the First Edition of the First and Second Cantos (quarto,
1812); the text of the Third and of the Fourth Cantos with the texts of
the First Editions of 1816 and 1818 respectively; and the text of the
entire poem with that issued in the collected editions of 1831 and 1832.
Considerations of space have determined the position and arrangement of
the notes.
Byron's notes to the First, Second, and Third Cantos, and Hobhouse's
notes to the Fourth Canto are printed, according to precedent, at the
end of each canto.
Editorial notes are placed in square brackets. Notes illustrative of the
text are printed immediately below the variants. Notes illustrative of
Byron's notes or footnotes are appended to the originals or printed as
footnotes. Byron's own
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GLOVE
LORE
[Illustration]
THE PARIS GLOVE STORE
S. W. LAIRD & CO.
390 MAIN STREET
BUFFALO
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_Copyrighted 1897._
OTIS H. KEAN & CO.,
Compilers and Publishers
Advertising Literature,
Buffalo, N. Y.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
_Introductory._
In presenting our Brochure on fall and winter gloves, it occurred to us
that a few facts bearing upon the historical phase of the subject would
not be amiss, and, though necessarily brief, we trust may prove
interesting to our readers.
Our display of gloves for the present season shows the same
characteristic excellence which has always been our aim, and a range of
style and variety calculated to meet the requirements of the most
exacting buyer.
We feel that in point of prices there is no need to make mention, since
a liberal patronage is the truest indication of our policy in this
regard, and we can promise in the future the same “sterling worth” we
have given in the past.
Attention is also called to our corset department, in the belief, that
for the lady who has not yet worn the Fascia Corset there awaits a real
revelation, the extent of which she can appreciate, only when once
encircled by the graceful curves of this, The Queen of all corsets.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_The Birth of the Glove._
[Illustration]
_“’Tis as I should entreat you, wear your glove.”_
—_Othello_.
The first pair of gloves of which we have any record was the covering of
skins which Jacob wore upon his hands to deceive his blind father, and
it is a singular fact, that these hand-coverings, then used for
deception and treachery, came in time to be a pledge of faith, a token
of fidelity all over the world. The glove is unique in its universal use
to symbolize good faith, from the Oriental custom of giving the
purchaser a glove at the transfer of property, to its use as a love
favor and a challenge.
Some authorities say that the use of gloves as a protection to the hands
was known to the cave-dwellers. However this may be, it certainly was to
the Romans and Greeks.
[Illustration]
In the Norman period we find gloves worn only by men, and even then they
were considered the appendages of the rich and great. They were an
important factor on all ceremonial occasions, and were consequently very
ornate and of rare material and workmanship, and many of them decorated
with precious stones. The gloves of bishops were of silk and linen,
richly embroidered, and those of monarchs were white with broad, pointed
cuff. The presentation of the royal gloves at the coronation ceremony is
a custom which still prevails, for in the records of Victoria’s
coronation is the Duke of Norfolk’s petition to present the Queen’s
coronation gloves.
While we of to-day use gloves only as a protection and an ornament, in
the intervening centuries they had a significance aside from this.
Churchmen wore gloves as a sign of purity; judges, as a token of the
integrity of their office; men pledged their honor by their gloves; and
perhaps we may be pardoned for saying that this custom still survives
with us, since our gloves are sold “on honor.”
[Illustration:
A Walking Glove.
Two-Clasp Piqué Glacé.
Two-Toned Stitching.
$1.00 to $2.00.]
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
Gentleman’s Walking Glove.
English Cape Leather,
One Clasp at the Wrist,
Oak Tan and Red Shades are correct.
$1.00 to $2.25.]
[Illustration:
English Cape Leather
Riding and Coaching Glove.
In Havana-Browns and Red Shades.
$1.00 to $2.00.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_Old Royal Gloves._
Some of the gloves worn by royal personages still exist. We illustrate a
glove worn by England’s maiden queen, Elizabeth, and a very ornate
affair it is—of fine white leather, profusely embroidered in gold
thread, and having a yellow fringe and lined with drab silk. Elizabeth’s
hands were very beautiful, we are told, the charm of which she was wont
to display by the repeated removal of her gloves. DuMaurier writes how
he had heard from his father “that, having been sent to her, at every
audience he had with her majesty, she pulled off her gloves more than a
hundred times to display her hands, which, indeed, were
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[Frontispiece: "Cats for the cats' home!" said Sir Maurice Falconer.]
THE TERRIBLE TWINS
By
EDGAR JEPSON
Author of
The Admirable Tinker, Pollyooly, etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HANSON BOOTH
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT 1913
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
[Updater's note: In the originally posted version of this book (August
14, 2006), four pages (3, 4, 53, 54) were missing. In early February
2008, the missing pages were found, scanned and submitted by a reader
of the original etext and incorporated into this updated version.]
CONTENTS
Chapter
I AND CAPTAIN BASTER
II GUARDIAN ANGELS
III AND THE CATS' HOME
IV AND THE VISIT OF INSPECTION
V AND THE SACRED BIRD
VI AND THE LANDED PROPRIETOR
VII AND PRINGLE'S POND
VIII AND THE MUTTLE DEEPING PEACHES
IX AND THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM
X AND THE ENTERTAINMENT OF ROYALTY
XI AND THE UNREST CURE
XII AND THE MUTTLE DEEPING FISHING
XIII AND AN APOLOGY
XIV AND THE SOUND OF WEDDING BELLS
ILLUSTRATIONS
"Cats for the cats' home!" said
Sir Maurice Falconer...... _Frontispiece_
"This is
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CRADOCK NOWELL
A Tale of the New forest.
BY
_RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE_,
AUTHOR OF “CLARA VAUGHAN”.
“You have said: whether wisely or no, let the forest judge”.
AS YOU LIKE IT, Act III. Sc. 2.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.
1866.
[_The right of Translation is reserved._]
LONDON:
PRINTED BY C. WHITING, BEAUFORT HOUSE, STRAND.
To the Memory
OF
MY DEAR FRIEND
THOMAS JAMES SCALÉ,
THIS WORK
(IN WHICH, FROM MONTH TO MONTH, HE TOOK THE KINDEST
INTEREST)
IS
IN GRATITUDE, AFFECTION, AND AFFLICTION,
DEDICATED.
R. D. B.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. 1
II. 10
III. 17
IV. 26
V. 42
VI. 46
VII. 54
VIII. 66
IX. 75
X. 81
XI. 95
XII. 102
XIII. 113
XIV. 125
XV. 134
XVI. 145
XVII. 158
XVIII. 170
XIX. 185
XX. 195
XXI. 204
XXII. 210
XXIII. 222
XXIV. 239
XXV. 265
XXVI. 281
XXVII. 293
XXVIII. 309
CRADOCK NOWELL
CHAPTER I.
Within the New Forest, and not far from its western boundary, as
defined by the second perambulation of the good King Edward the First,
stands the old mansion of the Nowells, the Hall of Nowelhurst. Not
content with mere exemption from all feudal service, their estate
claims privileges, both by grant and custom. The benefit of Morefall
trees in six walks of the forest, the right of digging marl, and
turbary illimitable, common of pannage, and license of drawing
akermast, pastime even of hawking over some parts of the Crown
land,—all these will be catalogued as claims quite indefeasible, if
the old estates come to the hammer, through the events that form my
story. With many of these privileges the Royal Commissioners will deal
in a spirit of scant courtesy, when the Nowell influence is lost in the
neighbouring boroughs; but as yet these claims have not been treated
like those of some poor commoners.
“Pooh, pooh, my man, donʼt be preposterous: you know, as well as I do,
these gipsy freedoms were only allowed to balance the harm the deer
did”.
And if the rights of that ancient family are ever called in question,
some there are which will require a special Act to abolish them. For
Charles the Second, of merry memory (saddened somewhat of late years),
espied among the maids of honour an uncommonly pretty girl, whose name
was Frances Nowell. He suddenly remembered, what had hitherto quite
escaped him, how old Sir Cradock Nowell—beautiful Fannyʼs father—had
saved him from a pike–thrust during Cromwellʼs “crowning mercy”. In
gratitude, of course, for this, he began to pay most warm attentions
to the Hampshire maiden. He propitiated that ancient knight with the
only boon he craved—craved hitherto all in vain—a plenary grant of
easements in the neighbourhood of his home. Soon as the charter had
received the royal seal and signature, the old gentleman briskly thrust
it away in the folds of his velvet mantle. Then taking the same view of
gratitude which his liege and master took, home he went without delay
to secure his privileges. When the king heard of his departure, without
any kissing of hands, he was in no wise disconcerted; it was the very
thing he had intended. But when he heard that lovely Fanny was gone in
the same old rickety coach, even ere he began to whisper, and with no
leave of the queen, His Majesty swore his utmost for nearly half an
hour. Then having spent his fury, he
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Grace
Actual and Habitual
A Dogmatic Treatise
By
The Rt. Rev. Msgr. Joseph Pohle, Ph.D., D.D.
Formerly Professor of Dogmatic Theology at St. Joseph's Seminary, Leeds
(England), Later Professor of Fundamental Theology at The Catholic
University of America
Adapted and Edited by
Arthur Preuss
Third, Revised Edition
W. E. Blake & Son, Limited
Catholic Church Supplies
123 Church St.
Toronto, Canada
1919
CONTENTS
Imprimatur
Introduction
Part I. Actual Grace
Chapter I. The Nature Of Actual Grace
Section 1. Definition Of Actual Grace
Section 2. Division Of Actual Grace
Chapter II. The Properties Of Actual Grace
Section 1. The Necessity Of Actual Grace
Article 1. The Capacity Of Mere Nature Without Grace
Article 2. The Necessity Of Actual Grace For All Salutary Acts
Article 3. The Necessity Of Actual Grace For The States Of
Unbelief, Mortal Sin, And Justification
Section 2. The Gratuity Of Actual Grace
Section 3. The Universality Of Actual Grace
Article 1. The Universality Of God's Will To Save
Article 2. God's Will To Give Sufficient Grace To All Adult Human
Beings In Particular
Article 3. The Predestination Of The Elect
Article 4. The Reprobation Of The Damned
Chapter III. Grace In Its Relation To Free-Will
Section 1. The Heresy of The Protestant Reformers And The Jansenists
Section 2. Theological Systems Devised To Harmonize The Dogmas Of
Grace And Free-Will
Article 1. Thomism And Augustinianism
Article 2. Molinism And Congruism
Part II. Sanctifying Grace
Chapter I. The Genesis Of Sanctifying Grace, Or The Process Of
Justification
Section 1. The Necessity Of Faith For Justification
Section 2. The Necessity Of Other Preparatory Acts Besides Faith
Chapter II. The State Of Justification
Section 1. The Nature Of Justification
Article 1. The Negative Element Of Justification
Article 2. The Positive Element Of Justification
Section 2. Justifying Or Sanctifying Grace
Article 1. The Nature Of Sanctifying Grace
Article 2. The Effects Of Sanctifying Grace
Article 3. The Supernatural Concomitants Of Sanctifying Grace
Section 3. The Properties Of Sanctifying Grace
Chapter III. The Fruits Of Justification, Or The Merit Of Good Works
Section 1. The Existence Of Merit
Section 2. The Requisites Of Merit
Section 3. The Objects Of Merit
Index
Footnotes
IMPRIMATUR
_NIHIL OBSTAT_
_Sti. Ludovici, die 18 Jan. 1919_
_F. G. Holweck,_
_ Censor Librorum_
_IMPRIMATUR_
_Sti. Ludovici, die 21 Jan. 1919_
_Joannes J. Glennon_
_ Archiepiscopus_
_ Sti. Ludovici_
_Copyright, 1914_
_ by_
_ Joseph Gummersbach_
_All rights reserved_
_Printed in U. S. A._
BECKTOLD
PRINTING & BOOK MFG. CO.
ST. LOUIS. U. S. A.
INTRODUCTION
Humanity was reconciled to God by the Redemption. This does not, however,
mean that every individual human being was forthwith justified, for
individual justification is wrought by the application to the soul of
grace derived from the inexhaustible merits of Jesus Christ.
There are two kinds of grace: (1) actual and (2) habitual. Actual grace is
a supernatural gift by which rational creatures are enabled to perform
salutary acts. Habitual, or, as it is commonly called, sanctifying, grace
is a habit, or more or less enduring state, which renders men pleasing to
God.
This distinction is of comparatively recent date, but it furnishes an
excellent principle of division for a dogmatic treatise on grace.(1)
PART I. ACTUAL GRACE
Actual grace is a transient supernatural help given by God from the
treasury of the merits of Jesus Christ for the purpose of enabling man to
work out his eternal salvation.
We shall consider: (1) The Nature of Actual Grace; (2) Its Properties, and
(3) Its Relation to Free-Will.
GENERAL READINGS:--St. Thomas, _Summa Theologica_, 1a 2ae, qu.
109-114, and the commentators, especially Billuart, _De Gratia_
(ed. Lequette, t. III); the Salmanticenses, _De Gratia Dei_
(_Cursus Theologiae_, Vol. IX sqq., Paris 1870); Thomas de Lemos,
_Panoplia Divinae Gratiae_, Liege 1676; Dominicus Soto, _De Natura
et Gratia_, l. III, Venice 1560; *Ripalda,(2) _De Ente
Supernaturali_, 3 vols. (I, Bordeaux 1634; II, Lyons 1645; III,
Cologne 1648).
*C. v. Schaezler, _Natur und Uebernatur: Das Dogma von der Gnade_,
Mainz 1865; IDEM, _Neue Untersuchungen ueber das Dogma von der
Gnade_, Mainz 1867; *J. E. Kuhn, _Die christliche Lehre von der
goettlichen Gnade_, Tuebingen 1868; Jos. Kleutgen, S.
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THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN
by
GEORGE MACDONALD
CONTENTS
1. Why the Princess Has a Story About Her
2. The Princess Loses Herself
3. The Princess and--We Shall See Who
4. What the Nurse Thought of It
5. The Princess Lets Well Alone
6. The Little Miner
7. The Mines
8. The Goblins
9. The Hall of the Goblin Palace
10. The Princess's King-Papa
11. The Old Lady's Bedroom
12. A Short Chapter About Curdie
13. The Cobs' Creatures
14. That Night Week
15. Woven and then Spun
16. The Ring
17. Springtime
18. Curdie's Clue
19. Goblin Counsels
20. Irene's Clue
21. The Escape
22. The Old Lady and Curdie
23. Curdie and His Mother
24. Irene Behaves Like a Princess
25. Curdie Comes to Grief
26. The Goblin-Miners
27. The Goblins in the King's House
28. Curdie's Guide
29. Masonwork
30. The King and the Kiss
31. The Subterranean Waters
32. The Last Chapter
CHAPTER 1
Why the Princess Has a Story About Her
There was once a little princess whose father was king over a great
country full of mountains and valleys. His palace was built upon one
of the mountains, and was very grand and beautiful. The princess,
whose name was Irene, was born there, but she was sent soon after her
birth, because her mother was not very strong, to be brought up by
country people in a large house, half castle, half farmhouse, on the
side of another mountain, about half-way between its base and its peak.
The princess was a sweet little creature, and at the time my story
begins was about eight years old, I think, but she got older very fast.
Her face was fair and pretty, with eyes like two bits of night sky,
each with a star dissolved in the blue. Those eyes you would have
thought must have known they came from there, so often were they turned
up in that direction. The ceiling of her nursery was blue, with stars
in it, as like the sky as they could make it. But I doubt if ever she
saw the real sky with the stars in it, for a reason which I had better
mention at once.
These mountains were full of hollow places underneath; huge caverns,
and winding ways, some with water running through them, and some
shining with all colours of the rainbow when a light was taken in.
There would not have been much known about them, had there not been
mines there, great deep pits, with long galleries and passages running
off from them, which had been dug to get at the ore of which the
mountains were full. In the course of digging, the miners came upon
many of these natural caverns. A few of them had far-off openings out
on the side of a mountain, or into a ravine.
Now in these subterranean caverns lived a strange race of beings,
called by some gnomes, by some kobolds, by some goblins. There was a
legend current in the country that at one time they lived above ground,
and were very like other people. But for some reason or other,
concerning which there were different legendary theories, the king had
laid what they thought too severe taxes upon them, or had required
observances of them they did not like, or had begun to treat them with
more severity, in some way or other, and impose stricter laws; and the
consequence was that they had all disappeared from the face of the
country. According to the legend, however, instead of going to some
other country, they had all taken refuge in the subterranean caverns,
whence they never came out but at night, and then seldom showed
themselves in any numbers, and never to many people at once. It was
only in the least frequented and most difficult parts of the mountains
that they were said to gather even at night in the open air. Those who
had caught sight of any of them said that they had greatly altered in
the course of generations; and no wonder, seeing they lived away from
the sun, in cold and wet and dark places. They were now, not
ordinarily ugly, but either absolutely hideous, or ludicrously
grotesque both in face and form. There was no invention, they said
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WAR FROM THE INSIDE
[Illustration: COLONEL FREDERICK L. HITCHCOCK]
[Illustration:
MONUMENT OF 132D REGIMENT, P. V.
ERECTED BY THE STATE OF PENNSYLVANIA ON BATTLE-FIELD OF ANTIETAM, MD.
DEDICATED SEPT. 17, 1904
It stands about two hundred yards directly in front of the battle line
upon which this regiment fought, on the side of the famous "Sunken Road"
occupied by the Confederates.
This road has since been widened and macadamized as a government road
leading from "Bloody Lane" towards Sharpsburg.]
WAR FROM THE INSIDE
The Story of the 132nd Regiment Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry
in the War for the Suppression of the Rebellion
1862-1863
by
FREDERICK L. HITCHCOCK
Late Adjutant and Major
132nd Pennsylvania Volunteers.
Published by authority of the 132nd Regiment Pennsylvania
Volunteer Infantry Association.
Press of J. B. Lippincott Company
Philadelphia
1904
Copyright, 1903
by F. L. Hitchcock
PREFACE
This narrative was originally written without the least idea of
publication, but to gratify the oft-repeated requests of my children.
During the work, the ubiquitous newspaper reporter learned of it, and
persuaded me to permit its publication in a local paper, where it
appeared in weekly instalments. Since then the demand that I should put
it in more permanent form has been so persistent and wide-spread, that I
have been constrained to comply, and have carefully revised and in part
rewritten it. I have endeavored to confine myself to my own
observations, experiences, and impressions, giving the inner life of the
soldier as we experienced it. It was my good fortune to be associated
with one of the best bodies of men who took part in the great Civil War;
to share in their hardships and their achievements. For this I am
profoundly grateful. Their story is my own. If these splendid
gray-headed "boys"--those who have not yet passed the mortal
firing-line--shall find some pleasure in again tramping over that
glorious route, and recalling the historic scenes, and if the younger
generation shall gather inspiration for a like patriotic dedication to
country and to liberty, I shall be more than paid for my imperfect
work. In conclusion, I desire to acknowledge my indebtedness to Major
James W. Oakford, son of our intrepid colonel, who was the first of the
regiment to fall, and to Mr. Lewis B. Stillwell, son of that brave and
splendid officer, Captain Richard Stillwell, Company K, who was wounded
and disabled at Fredericksburg, for constant encouragement in the
preparation of the work and for assistance in its publication.
SCRANTON, PA., April 5, 1904.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--FIRST LESSONS; OR, DOING THE IMPOSSIBLE 13
II.--THE ORGANIZATION AND MAKE-UP OF THE FIGHTING
MACHINE CALLED "THE ARMY" 22
III.--ON THE MARCH 35
IV.--DRAWING NEAR THE ENEMY--BATTLE OF SOUTH MOUNTAIN--PRELIMINARY
SKIRMISHES 46
V.--THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM 55
VI.--THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM--CONTINUED 68
VII.--HARPER'S FERRY AND THE LEESBURG AND HALLTOWN EXPEDITIONS 79
VIII.--FROM HARPER'S FERRY TO FREDERICKSBURG 94
IX.--THE FREDERICKSBURG CAMPAIGN 108
X.--THE BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURG--CONTINUED 120
XI.--WHY FREDERICKSBURG WAS LOST 132
XII.--LOST COLORS RECOVERED 141
XIII.--THE WINTER AT FALMOUTH 158
XIV.--THE WINTER AT FALMOUTH--CONTINUED 179
XV.--THE BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE 200
XVI.--THE BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE--CONTINUED 220
XVII.--THE MUSTER OUT AND HOME AGAIN 239
APPENDIX 251
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
After the lapse of more than forty years, I hardly hoped to be able to
publish pictures of all our officers, and
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Transcriber's Note
Italic text is represented by _underscores_.
Sidenotes are in ~swung dashes~.
Superscript is indicated by caret signs, e.g. Lith^{rs}.
TRAVELS
INTO
BOKHARA;
_&c. &c._
VOL. I.
LONDON:
Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE,
New-Street-Square.
[Illustration:
_Drawn by D. M^c. Clise._ _Engraved by E. Find._
_Costume of Bokhara_
London, Published 1834, by John Murray, Albemarle Street.]
TRAVELS
INTO
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Personal Recollections and Experiences
CONCERNING THE
Battle of Stone River.
A Paper Read by Request before the Illinois Commandery of the Military
Order of the Loyal Legion of the U.S., at Chicago, Ill., Feb. 14, 1889.
BY
MILO S. HASCALL,
OF GOSHEN, INDIANA,
Formerly a Lieutenant in the U.S. Army, and Brigadier-General of
Volunteers during the War of the Rebellion.
Times Publishing Company, Goshen,--Indiana. 1889.
Personal Recollections and Experiences Concerning the Battle of Stone
River.
As will be perceived by the above caption to this paper, it is proposed
to relate what happened to me, and what I observed during the battle
alluded to, and might not inappropriately be styled "What I know about
the battle of Stone River."
In doing so I shall not undertake to give a general account of the
battle, but shall confine myself to that portion which came under my own
observation, and to necessary inferences as to what happened elsewhere.
In setting out it will be well to give a brief account of the history of
the Army of the Cumberland, and its commanders, so far as I know, up to
the time of the memorable battle which is the subject of this paper. My
having been a cadet at West Point from June, 1848, to June, 1852, when I
graduated in the same class with Sheridan, Stanly, Slocum, Crook,
Bonaparte and others, whose names have since become so distinguished,
and my service in the regular army subsequently till the fall of 1853,
threw me in contact with, and was the means of my knowing personally, or
by reputation, most, if not all the prominent characters on both sides,
that were brought to the knowledge of the public by the War of the
Rebellion.
This knowledge of the men in the army of those times served me well all
through the war, as it was seldom I came in contact with an officer on
the other side, but what I knew all his peculiar characteristics, and
idiosyncrasies. For illustration of this idea, as we were approaching
Atlanta, my division had the advance of the Army of the Ohio the morning
we came in sight of the city. My advance guard captured a rebel picket
post, and one of the men captured, had a morning paper from Atlanta, in
which was Johnston's farewell order to his troops, and Hood's order
assuming command. I had been three years at West Point with Hood, he
having graduated in 1853, in Schofield's class. I knew Hood to be a
great, large hearted, large sized man, noted a great deal more for his
fine social and fighting qualities, than for any particular scholastic
acquirements, and inferred, (correctly as the result showed) that
Johnston had been removed because Davis, and his admirers, had had
enough of the Fabian policy, and wanted a man that would take the
offensive. I immediately sent word to Gen. Sherman, who, with his staff,
was not far off, and when he came to the front, informed him of the news
I had, and the construction I put upon it, and in consequence, an
immediate concentration to resist an attack was made in the vicinity,
where we were. It was none too soon, as Hood, upon taking command
immediately moved out to Decatur with nearly his entire army, fell upon
McPherson's corps, with the besom of destruction, killing the gallant
McPherson early in the engagement, and with his vastly superior force,
beating back the Army of the Tennessee so fast, that there is no telling
what might have happened, had we not made the concentration we did, and
been prepared to give them a tremendous enfilading fire as soon as they
came opposite the flanks of the Army of the Ohio. It was my fortune to
be stationed at Ft. Adams, Newport, Rhode Island, as soon as my furlough
expired after graduating at the Military Academy, and there found Lieut.
W.S. Rosecrans, (afterward the commanding general at Stone River), and
from being stationed some ten months at the same post, became somewhat
familiarly acquainted with him and his peculiarities. I had never met
Gen. Don
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<pb id='001.png' n='1959_h1/A/0715' />
RENEWAL REGISTRATIONS
A list of books, pamphlets, serials, and contributions to periodicals for which
renewal registrations were made during the period covered by this issue.
Arrangement is alphabetical under the name of the author or issuing body or,
in the case of serials and certain other works, by title. Information relating
to both the original and the renewal registration is included in each entry.
References from the names of renewal claimants, joint authors, editors, etc.
and from variant forms of names are interfiled.
A.M.O.R.C. SEE Ancient & Mystical
Order Rosae Crucis.
ABBOTT, JANE.
Silver fountain. © 11May32;
A54209. Jane Abbott (A); 14May59;
R236686.
ABBOTT, MATHER A., ed. SEE
The Chapel hymnal.
ABBOTT NEW YORK DIGEST. Consolidated
ed. 1931 cumulative annual pocket
parts for v.1-40. © 26Feb32;
A50111. West Pub. Co. & Lawyers
Co-operative Pub. Co. (PWH);
3Apr59; R234100.
ABBOTT NEW YORK DIGEST. October 1931
cumulative quarterly pamphlet.
Consolidated ed. © 29Oct31;
A43985. West Pub. Co. & Lawyers
Co-operative Pub. Co. (PWH);
7Jan59; R228344.
ABDRUSCHIN, pseud. SEE Bernhardt,
Oscar Ernst.
ABDULLAH, ACHMED.
The veiled woman. © 24Feb
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HISTORY OF THE BEEF CATTLE INDUSTRY IN ILLINOIS
BY
FRANK WEBSTER FARLEY
THESIS
FOR THE
DEGREE OF BACHELOR OF SCIENCE
IN AGRICULTURE
IN
THE COLLEGE OF AGRICULTURE
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
1915
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
May 22, 1915
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT THE THESIS PREPARED UNDER MY SUPERVISION BY
_Frank Webster Farley_
ENTITLED _History of the Beef Cattle Industry in Illinois_
______________________________________________________________
IS APPROVED BY ME AS FULFILLING THIS PART OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE
DEGREE OF _Bachelor of Science in Agriculture_
____________________________________________________
_~Henry P Rusk~_
Instructor in Charge
APPROVED: _May 27, 1915_
~Herbert W. Mumford~
HEAD OF DEPARTMENT OF Animal Husbandry
INDEX
I. Introduction
Topography of the Land
People
Cattle and cattle feeding
II. Cattle Feeding Industry
The first silo in Illinois
The Chicago market
III. Cattle Barons and Pioneer Drovers
John T. Alexander
Jacob Strawn
Benjamin Franklin Harris
Tom Candy Ponting
IV. The Range Industry
Texas cattle
V. The Pure Bred Industry
T. L. Miller
Thomas Clark
VI. Cattle Plagues
VII. The Feed Industry of the United States.
HISTORY OF THE BEEF CATTLE INDUSTRY IN THE STATE OF ILLINOIS
I. INTRODUCTION
_Topography of the Land_
"As a whole, the surface of the State of Illinois is nearly level.
The prairie regions which cover a large part of the state are only
slightly rolling, except in those places where streams have worn
valleys. These are shallow in the eastern and the northern parts of
the state, deepening gradually as the great rivers are approached.
Nearly all the waters of Illinois find their way to the Mississippi
river. Along this river, as also along the larger streams of the state,
the lands are cut into abrupt bluffs or sharp spurs which, nearing
the sources of the streams, gradually become softened into rounded
hillocks, sinking at last into the low banks. Through such waterways
as these form, flow streams usually gentle in current, often sluggish,
and sometimes becoming even stagnant. Over a large part of the state,
ponds and "sloughs", or marshes, formerly abounded. In these the water
was renewed only by the rains that fell occasionally. Under hot suns
these ponds, having neither inlet nor outlet, quickly became foul,
particularly where stock resorted to them to drink and cool themselves,
as they did almost universally throughout the state a few years ago,
and do even now in some parts.
"For years such ponds furnished the principal, almost the only, water
supply for stock in large areas of this state. The constant use of
such impure water greatly injured the quality of the milk and butter of
cows, and doubtless had a baneful effect upon the health of the animals
that drank the foul water and those who used the milk and butter.
"With the drainage of the land and the introduction of a pure supply
of water, came the disappearance of certain diseases of cattle and of
human beings, particularly the so-called milk sickness and kindred
maladies, and a marked improvement in the flavor and keeping qualities
of milk and butter. Although the change thus far has been great, there
are yet districts in which there has been little improvement in the
conditions of the land, of the water supply, or of the people. Stock
are still compelled to depend, for their water supply, upon streams and
pools that almost invariably become stagnant in the warm and dry days
of the latter part of summer each year."[1]
Inquiries addressed to hundreds of intelligent and careful observers,
nearly all of whom were practical stockmen, elicited information
showing the following:
Number of District Chief Source of Water
Counties Supply
8 Northwest or Postal Streams and wells;
District springs furnish a
considerable part of
it; few ponds used;
three instances of
tile drains.
Central Northern Wells chief source;
Counties springs, streams,
and tiles used to a
considerable extent.
Northeast Counties Streams, wells, and springs
used about equally.
Eastern Counties Wells chiefly; streams next;
ponds and tile drains
follow in the order named;
nine instances of springs.
Central Counties Forty-nine districts report
wells; forty report
streams; thirty-five tile
drains; twenty-five ponds;
twenty-four springs.
Western Counties Wells and tile drains equal;
springs next; ponds in a
few instances.
4 Southern Counties Ponds and streams equal; six
report wells; five report
springs; four tile drains.
21 Central S. Counties Ponds chiefly; streams next;
wells next; springs and
tiles in the order named.
Southeast and
Southwest Counties A like condition: ponds,
streams, and springs.
"From all parts of the state, correspondents wrote that the ponds and
streams become stagnant in the warm months of summer, a few making
exception of those years in which rainfall has been heavy during the
summer months. Stagnant water is found more generally in the southern
than in the northern part of Illinois; chiefly, perhaps, because the
cultivation and drainage of the land has not become almost universal as
it has in the northern districts."
In several counties artesian wells afford a most copious supply of
water
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Sentence Numbers, shown thus (1), have been added by volunteer.
A Theologico-Political Treatise
Part IV of IV - Chapters XVI to XX
by Baruch Spinoza
TABLE OF CONTENTS: Search strings are shown thus [16:x].
Search forward and back with the same string.
[16:0] CHAPTER XVI - Of the Foundations of a State;
of the Natural and Civil Rights of Individuals;
and of the Rights of the Sovereign Power.
[16:1] In Nature right co-extensive with power.
[16:2] This principle applies to mankind in the state of Nature.
[16:3] How a transition from this state to a civil state is possible.
[16:4] Subjects not slaves.
[16:5] Definition of private civil right - and wrong.
[16:6] Of alliance.
[16:7] Of treason.
[16:8] In what sense sovereigns are bound by Divine law.
[16:9] Civil government not inconsistent with religion.
[17:0] CHAPTER XVII.- It is shown, that no one can or need
transfer all his Rights to the Sovereign Power. Of the
Hebrew Republic, as it was during the lifetime of Moses,
and after his death till the foundation of the Monarchy;
and of its Excellence. Lastly, of the Causes why the
Theocratic Republic fell, and why it could hardly have
continued without Dissension.
[17:1] The absolute theory, of Sovereignty ideal - No one can
in fact transfer all his rights to the Sovereign power.
Evidence of this.
[17:2] The greatest danger in all States from within,
not without.
[17:3] Original independence of the Jews after the Exodus.
[17:4] Changed first to a pure democratic Theocracy.
[17:5] Then to subjection to Moses.
[17:6] Then to a Theocracy with the power divided
between the high priest and the captains.
[17:7] The tribes confederate states.
[17:8] Restraints on the civil power.
[17:9] Restraints on the people.
[17:A] Causes of decay involved in the constitution
of the Levitical priesthood.
[18:0] CHAPTER XVIII.- From the Commonwealth of the Hebrews and
their History certain Lessons are deduced.
[18:1] The Hebrew constitution no longer possible or desirable,
yet lessons may be derived from its history.
[18:2] As the danger of entrusting any authority in politics
to ecclesiastics - the danger of identifying
religion with dogma.
[18:3] The necessity of keeping all judicial power with
the sovereign - the danger of changes in the
form of a State.
[18:4] This last danger illustrated from the history of
England - of Rome.
[18:5] And of Holland.
[19:0] CHAPTER XIX - It is shown that the Right
over Matters Spiritual lies wholly with the
Sovereign, and that the Outward Forms of
Religion should be in accordance with Public
Peace, if we would worship God aright.
[19:1] Difference between external and inward religion.
[19:2] Positive law established only by agreement.
[19:3] Piety furthered by peace and obedience.
[19:4] Position of the Apostles exceptional.
[19:5] Why Christian States, unlike the Hebrew,
suffer from disputes between the civil
and ecclesiastical powers.
[19:6] Absolute power in things spiritual of modern rulers.
[20:0] CHAPTER XX - That in a Free State every man
may Think what he Likes, and Say what he Thinks.
[20:1] The mind not subject to State authority.
[20:2] Therefore in general language should not be.
[20:3] A man who disapproving of a law, submits his adverse opinion
to the judgment of the authorities, while acting in
accordance with the law, deserves well of the State.
[20:4] That liberty of opinion is beneficial, shown from
the history of Amsterdam.
[20:5] Danger to the State of withholding it. -
Submission of the Author to the
judgment of his country's rulers.
[Author's Endnotes] to the Treatise.
[16:0] CHAPTER XVI - OF THE FOUNDATIONS OF A STATE; OF THE
NATURAL AND CIVIL RIGHTS OF INDIVIDUALS; AND OF THE
RIGHTS OF THE SOVEREIGN POWER.
(1) Hitherto our care has been to separate philosophy from theology, and to
show the freedom of thought which such separation insures to both. (2) It is
now time to determine the limits to which such freedom of thought and
discussion may extend itself in the ideal state. (3) For the due
consideration of this question we must examine the foundations of a State,
first turning our attention to the natural rights of individuals, and
afterwards to religion and the state as a whole.
(16:4) By the right and ordinance of nature, I merely mean those natural
laws wherewith we conceive every individual to be conditioned by nature, so
as to live and act in a given way. (5) For instance, fishes are naturally
conditioned for swimming, and the greater for devouring the less; therefore
fishes enjoy the water, and the greater devour the less by sovereign natural
right. [16:1] (6) For it is certain that nature, taken in the abstract, has
sovereign right to do anything, she can; in other words, her right is
co-extensive with her power. (7) The power of nature is the power of God,
which has sovereign right over all things; and, inasmuch as the power of nature
is simply the aggregate of the powers of all her individual components, it
follows that every individual has sovereign right to do all that he can; in
other words, the rights of an individual extend to the utmost limits of his
power as it has been conditioned. (8) Now it is the sovereign law and right
of nature that each individual should endeavour to preserve itself as it is,
without regard to anything but itself; therefore this sovereign law and
right belongs to every individual, namely, to exist and act according
to its natural conditions. (9) We do not here acknowledge any
difference between mankind and other individual natural entities, nor
between men endowed with reason and those to whom reason is unknown; nor
between fools, madmen, and sane men. (10) Whatsoever an individual does by
the laws of its nature it has a sovereign right to do, inasmuch as it
acts as it was conditioned by nature, and cannot act otherwise. [16:2] (11)
Wherefore among men, so long as they are considered as living under the sway
of nature, he who does not yet know reason, or who has not yet acquired the
habit of virtue, acts solely according to the laws of his desire with as
sovereign a right as he who orders his life entirely by the laws of reason.
(16:12) That is, as the wise man has sovereign right to do all that reason
dictates, or to live according to the laws of reason, so also the ignorant
and foolish man has sovereign right to do all that desire dictates, or to
live according to the laws of desire. (13) This is identical with the
teaching of Paul, who acknowledges that previous to the law - that is, so
long as men are considered of as living under the sway of nature, there is
no sin.
(16:14) The natural right of the individual man is thus determined, not by
sound reason, but by desire and power. (15) All are not naturally
conditioned so as to act according to the laws and rules of reason; nay, on
the contrary, all men are born ignorant, and before they can learn the
right way of life and acquire the habit of virtue, the greater part of their
life, even if they have been well brought up, has passed away. (16)
Nevertheless, they are in the meanwhile bound to live and preserve
themselves as far as they can by the unaided impulses of desire. (17) Nature
has given them no other guide, and has denied them the present power of
living according to sound reason; so that they are no more bound to live by
the dictates of an enlightened mind, than a cat is bound to live by the laws
of the nature of a lion.
(16:18) Whatsoever, therefore, an individual (considered as under the sway
of nature) thinks useful for himself, whether led by sound reason or
impelled by the passions, that he has a sovereign right to seek and to take
for himself as he best can, whether by force, cunning, entreaty, or any
other means; consequently he may regard as an enemy anyone who hinders
the accomplishment of his purpose.
(16:19) It follows from what we have said that the right and ordinance of
nature, under which all men are born, and under which they mostly live, only
prohibits such things as no one desires, and no one can attain: it does not
forbid strife, nor hatred, nor anger, nor deceit, nor, indeed, any of
the means suggested by desire.
(16:20) This we need not wonder at, for nature is not bounded by the laws of
human reason, which aims only at man's true benefit and preservation; her
limits are infinitely wider, and have reference to the eternal order of
nature, wherein man is but a speck; it is by the necessity of this alone
that all individuals are conditioned for living and acting in a particular
way. (21) If anything, therefore, in nature seems to us ridiculous, absurd,
or evil, it is because we only know in part, and are almost entirely
ignorant of the order and interdependence of nature as a whole, and also
because we want everything to be arranged according to the dictates of our
human reason; in reality that which reason considers evil, is not evil in
respect to the order and laws of nature as a whole, but only in respect to
the laws of our reason.
(16:22) Nevertheless, no one can doubt that it is much better for us to live
according to the laws and assured dictates of reason, for, as we said, they
have men's true good for their object. (23) Moreover, everyone wishes to
live as far as possible securely beyond the reach of fear, and this would be
quite impossible so long as everyone did everything he liked, and reason's
claim was lowered to a par with those of hatred and anger; there is no one
who is not ill at ease in the midst of enmity, hatred, anger, and deceit,
and who does not seek to avoid them as much as he can. [16:3] (24) When we
reflect that men without mutual help, or the aid of reason, must needs live
most miserably, as we clearly proved in Chap. V., we shall plainly see that
men must necessarily come to an agreement to live together as securely and
well as possible if they are to enjoy as a whole the rights which naturally
belong to them as individuals, and their life should be no more conditioned
by the force and desire of individuals, but by the power and will of the
whole body. (25) This end they will be unable to attain if desire be
their only guide (for by the laws of desire each man is drawn in a different
direction); they must, therefore, most firmly decree and establish that they
will be guided in everything by reason (which nobody will dare openly to
repudiate lest he should be taken for a madman), and will restrain any
desire which is injurious to a man's fellows, that they will do to all as
they would be done by, and that they will defend their neighbour's rights as
their own.
(16:26) How such a compact as this should be entered into, how ratified and
established, we will now inquire.
(27) Now it is a universal law of human nature that no one ever neglects
anything which he judges to be good, except with the hope of gaining a
greater good, or from the fear of a greater evil; nor does anyone endure an
evil except for the sake of avoiding a greater evil, or gaining a greater
good. (28) That is, everyone will, of two goods, choose that which he thinks
the greatest; and, of two evils, that which he thinks the least. (29) I say
advisedly that which he thinks the greatest or the least, for it does not
necessarily follow that he judges right. (30) This law is so deeply
implanted in the human mind that it ought to be counted among eternal truths
and axioms.
(16:31) As a necessary consequence of the principle just enunciated, no one
can honestly promise to forego the right which he has over all things
[Endnote 26], and in general no one will abide by his promises, unless under
the fear of a greater evil, or the hope of a greater good. (32) An example
will make the matter clearer. (33) Suppose that a robber forces me to
promise that I will give him my goods at his will and pleasure. (34) It is
plain (inasmuch as my natural right is, as I have shown, co-extensive with
my power) that if I can free myself from this robber by stratagem, by
assenting to his demands, I have the natural right to do so, and to pretend
to accept his conditions. (35) Or again, suppose I have genuinely promised
someone that for the space of twenty days I will not taste food or any
nourishment; and suppose I afterwards find that was foolish, and cannot be
kept without very great injury to myself; as I am bound by natural law and
right to choose the least of two evils, I have complete right to break my
compact, and act as if my promise had never been uttered. (36) I say that I
should have perfect natural right to do so, whether I was actuated by true
and evident reason, or whether I was actuated by mere opinion in thinking I
had promised rashly; whether my reasons were true or false, I should be in
fear of a greater evil, which, by the ordinance of nature, I should strive
to avoid by every means in my power.
(16:37) We may, therefore, conclude that a compact is only made valid by its
utility, without which it becomes null and void. (38) It is, therefore,
foolish to ask a man to keep his faith with us for ever, unless we also
endeavour that the violation of the compact we enter into shall involve for
the violator more harm than good. (39) This consideration should have very
great weight in forming a state. (40) However, if all men could be easily
led by reason alone, and could recognize what is best and most useful for a
state, there would be no one who would not forswear deceit, for everyone
would keep most religiously to their compact in their desire for the chief
good, namely, the shield and buckler of the commonwealth. (41) However, it
is far from being the case that all men can always be easily led by reason
alone; everyone is drawn away by his pleasure, while avarice, ambition,
envy, hatred, and the like so engross the mind that, reason has no place
therein. (42) Hence, though men make - promises with all the appearances of
good faith, and agree that they will keep to their engagement, no one can
absolutely rely on another man's promise unless there is something behind
it. (43) Everyone has by nature a right to act deceitfully, and to break his
compacts, unless he be restrained by the hope of some greater good, or the
fear of some greater evil.
(16:44) However, as we have shown that the natural right of the individual
is only limited by his power, it is clear that by transferring, either
willingly or under compulsion, this power into the hands of another, he in
so doing necessarily cedes also a part of his right; and further, that the
Sovereign right over all men belongs to him who has sovereign power,
wherewith he can compel men by force, or restrain them by threats of the
universally feared punishment of death; such sovereign right he will
retain only so long as he can maintain his power of enforcing his will;
otherwise he will totter on his throne, and no one who is stronger than he
will be bound unwillingly to obey him.
(16:45) In this manner a society can be formed without any violation of
natural right, and the covenant can always be strictly kept - that is, if
each individual hands over the whole of his power to the body politic, the
latter will then possess sovereign natural right over all things; that is,
it will have sole and unquestioned dominion, and everyone will be bound to
obey, under pain of the severest punishment. (46) A body politic of this
kind is called a Democracy, which may be defined as a society which wields
all its power as a whole. (47) The sovereign power is not restrained by any
laws, but everyone is bound to obey it in all things; such is the state of
things implied when men either tacitly or expressly handed over to it all
their power of self-defence, or in other words, all their right. (48) For if
they had wished to retain any right for themselves, they ought to have taken
precautions for its defence and preservation; as they have not done so,
and indeed could not have done so without dividing and consequently ruining
the state, they placed themselves absolutely at the mercy of the sovereign
power; and, therefore, having acted (as we have shown) as reason and
necessity demanded, they are obliged to fulfil the commands of the sovereign
power, however absurd these may be, else they will be public enemies, and
will act against reason, which urges the preservation of the state as a
primary duty. (49) For reason bids us choose the least of two evils.
(16:50) Furthermore, this danger of submitting absolutely to the dominion
and will of another, is one which may be incurred with a light heart: for we
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listed at the end of the text.
ZOONOMIA;
OR,
THE LAWS
OF
ORGANIC LIFE.
VOL. II.
_By ERASMUS DARWIN, M.D. F.R.S._
AUTHOR OF THE BOTANIC GARDEN.
Principio coelum, ac terras, camposque liquentes,
Lucentemque globum lunae, titaniaque astra,
Spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet.--VIRG. Aen. vi.
Earth, on whose lap a thousand nations tread,
And Ocean, brooding his prolific bed,
Night's changeful orb, blue pole, and silvery zones,
Where other worlds encircle other suns,
One Mind inhabits, one diffusive Soul
Wields the large limbs, and mingles with the whole.
London:
Printed for. J. Johnson, in St. Paul's Church-Yard.
1796.
Entered at Stationers' Hall.
ZOONOMIA;
OR,
THE LAWS OF ORGANIC LIFE.
PART II.
CONTAINING
A CATALOGUE OF DISEASES
DISTRIBUTED INTO
NATURAL CLASSES ACCORDING TO THEIR PROXIMATE CAUSES,
WITH THEIR
SUBSEQUENT ORDERS, GENERA, AND SPECIES,
AND WITH
THEIR METHODS OF CURE.
* * * * *
Haec, ut potero, explicabo; nec tamen, quasi Pythius Apollo, certa ut
sint et fixa, quae dixero; sed ut Homunculus unus e multis probabiliora
conjectura sequens.--CIC. TUSC. DISP. l. 1. 9.
* * * * *
PREFACE.
All diseases originate in the exuberance, deficiency, or retrograde action,
of the faculties of the sensorium, as their proximate cause; and consist in
the disordered motions of the fibres of the body, as the proximate effect
of the exertions of those disordered faculties.
The sensorium possesses four distinct powers, or faculties, which are
occasionally exerted, and produce all the motions of the fibrous parts of
the body; these are the faculties of producing fibrous motions in
consequence of irritation which is excited by external bodies; in
consequence of sensation which is excited by pleasure or pain; in
consequence of volition which is excited by desire or aversion; and in
consequence of association which is excited by other fibrous motions. We
are hence supplied with four natural classes of diseases derived from their
proximate causes; which we shall term those of irritation, those of
sensation, those of volition, and those of association.
In the subsequent classification of diseases I have not adhered to the
methods of any of those, who have preceded me; the principal of whom are
the great names of Sauvages and Cullen; but have nevertheless availed
myself, as much as I could, of their definitions and distinctions.
The essential characteristic of a disease consists in its proximate cause,
as is well observed by Doctor Cullen, in his Nosologia Methodica, T. ii.
Prolegom. p. xxix. Similitudo quidem morborum in similitudine causae
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BIRDS AND NATURE.
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.
Vol. XI. FEBRUARY, 1902. No. 2.
CONTENTS.
FEBRUARY. 49
THE BLUE-HEADED VIREO. (_Vireo solitarius._) 50
BOOK AND MRS. OYSTER 53
THE CALIFORNIAN THRASHER. (_Harporhynchus redivivus._) 59
WINTER’S SECRET. 60
A QUEER PARTNERSHIP. 61
THE BROAD-TAILED HUMMINGBIRD. (_Selasphorus platycercus._) 62
A BIRD THAT HUNG HIMSELF. 65
WINTER MEMORIES. 66
SOME OF OUR WINTER BIRDS. IN EASTERN MASSACHUSETTS. 67
THE BROAD-WINGED HAWK. (_Buteo latissimus._) 71
THE BIRD’S COMPLAINT. 72
CALIFORNIA POPPIES. 73
QUARTZ. 74
MIDWINTER. 79
A CATASTROPHE IN HIGH LIFE. 80
THE DOMESTIC CAT. 83
“CUBBY.” 85
SOAPWORT OR BOUNCING BET. (_Saponaria officinalis._) 86
TURTLE-HEAD OR SNAKE-HEAD. (_Chelone glabra._) 86
THE POCKET BIRD. 89
THE BIRDS IN THEIR WINTER HOME. II. (In the Fields.) 90
MUSIC-LOVING FELINES. 92
FIRE-FLIES. 92
SUGAR-CANE. (_Saccharum officinarum Lin._) 95
DEATH OF THE FOREST MONARCH. 96
FEBRUARY.
But Winter has yet brighter scenes—he boasts
Splendors beyond what gorgeous summer knows;
Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods
All flushed with many hues. Come when the rains
Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice,
While the slant sun of February pours
Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach!
The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps,
And the broad arching portals of the grove
Welcome thy entering. Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
Is studded with its trembling water-drops,
That glimmer with an amethystine light.
But round the parent-stem the long low boughs
Bend, in a glittering ring, and arbors hide
The glassy floor. Oh! you might deem the spot
The spacious cavern of some virgin mine,
Deep in the womb of earth—where the gems grow,
And diamonds put forth radiant rods and bud
While amethyst and topaz—and the place
Lit up, most royally, with the pure beam
That dwells in them. * * * *
—William Cullen Bryant, “A Winter Piece.”
THE BLUE-HEADED VIREO.
(_Vireo solitarius._)
The Blue-headed Vireo, or its varieties, of which there are several,
frequent nearly the whole of North America. The typical form of the
species, that of our illustration, has a range covering Eastern North
America and extending westward to the great plains. It breeds from
Southern New England and the lake states northward to Hudson Bay and
southward in the higher altitudes of the Alleghenies. It passes the
winter in Cuba, Mexico and Central America. The Blue-headed Vireo is
frequently called the Solitary Vireo, or Greenlet, because of its
retiring habits. It is a bird of the forest and stays very close in
these quiet retreats. Yet it is, as a rule, easy of approach, seeming to
possess both curiosity and confidence. Mr. Bradford Torrey writes with
enthusiasm regarding the pretty habits of this bird. He says: “Its most
winning trait is its tameness. Wood bird as it is, it will sometimes
permit the greatest familiarities. Two birds I have seen which allowed
themselves to be stroked in the freest manner while sitting on the eggs,
and
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A NURSE'S LIFE IN WAR AND PEACE
BY
E. C. LAURENCE, R.R.C.
AUTHOR OF "MODERN NURSING IN HOSPITAL AND HOME"
WITH A PREFACE BY
SIR FREDERICK TREVES, BART.
G.C.V.O., C.B., LL.D.
LONDON
SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE
1912
[All rights reserved]
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh
PREFACE
The charm of these letters, it will at once be found, depends upon their
simplicity, their artlessness, their obvious candour. They present a
plain, untinted account of a nurse's career, of the difficulties she has
to face, and the problems she has to solve. Those who wish to know
something of a nurse's life and times will find in this writing a
convincing narrative, unemotional and matter-of-fact.
This is no small merit, since the record of nursing experiences is apt
to be blurred by exaggeration or made nauseous by sickly romance. There
is pathos enough in the sick-room and in the presence of death, but
those who come in touch with it would do better to hush the knowledge in
their hearts, rather than to proclaim it on the house-tops. Apart from
this, the world must be a little weary of the astute sick child who
lisps melodrama into the ear of the "kind nurse," as well as of the
bizarre aphorisms of the dying tramp.
The faults of management and lapses of discipline which crop up
incidentally in the story are now matters of the past, and are no longer
to be found in either the "Children's Hospital" or the "General."
The novice who is entering the profession of Nursing will find in these
letters a sensible and exact view of the prospect that lies before her.
She may further glean some insight as to the qualifications of the good
nurse. These qualifications are to be expressed neither by certificates
nor by badges, neither by starched uniforms nor by examination results.
They are happily beyond the mechanical gauge of any examiner, and above
the platitudes of the official testimonial.
Of the perfect nurse it may be said that "her price is far above
rubies," and that her place is high in the company of admirable women.
She is versed in the elaborate ritual of her art, she has tact and sound
judgment, she can give strength to the weak and confidence to the faint
at heart, she has that rarest sight which can see the world through the
patient's eyes, and she is possessed of those exquisite, intangible,
most human sympathies which, in the fullest degree, belong alone to her
sex.
FREDERICK TREVES.
_December 1911._
CONTENTS
I
PAGE
At School--Determined to be a Nurse--Royal Red Cross
instituted--Preliminary Training 1
II
Visit to Tenerife--A Storm in the Bay--The Beauties of the Island 3
III
Up the Cañadas--Voyage Home on a Cargo-boat--Call at Madeira 8
IV
First Experiences in a Hospital--The Food--Some Medical Cases--My
First "Special" Case 14
V
Moved to a Surgical Ward--In Quarantine--A Poisoned Hand--"Kathleen" 19
VI
In the Out-Patient Department--Food improved, and Heavy Work
reduced--Act as Night Sister for two nights--Am offered a
post as Staff Nurse--My first Certificate 25
VII
To South Africa for a year--Voyage out on the _Scot_--By train
from Cape Town to Kimberley 31
VIII
Life on the Diamond Fields--I meet Mr. Cecil Rhodes--The
Kimberley Exhibition 37
IX
A Visit to Cape Town--Up Table Mountain--Return to Kimberley 42
X
On Circuit in Cape Colony--A Visit to Natal--The Doctor's Fee 48
XI
East London and Port Elizabeth--Down a Diamond Mine
(Kimberley)--Return to England 54
XII
Accepted for training at a General Hospital--I begin in a Medical
Ward--A sudden death 60
XIII
On the Surgical side--A heavy "Take-in" week--Lectures on
Physiology 66
XIV
My first Typhoid Case--Diphtheria Tracheotomies--The Rescue
of the Cat--On Night Duty 71
XV
Christmas in Hospital--The Dispensing Examination--Acting
Assistant Matron--Three Weeks on Duty in an Infirmary 77
XVI
First Sister in the Front Surgery--A Bad Accident--A Dog with a
Broken Leg 83
XVII
Temporary Ward Sister--Appointed Night Sister--Interesting
Work--Join the Royal National Pension Fund for Nurses--I
spend Christmas warded as a Patient 89
XVIII
Chloroform for a Cat--I Volunteer for Plague Duty
(refused)--Appointed Ward Sister--A Fire Alarm--A Holiday
in Switzerland--A Bomb in Paris 95
XIX
I go to Egypt--Nursing at Sea in rough weather--At Helouan--Ride
out to the Pyramids--The Kasr-el-Aini 102
XX
Up the Nile by Tourist Steamer--At Luxor--"Hare and Hounds"
on Donkeys 109
XXI
War in the Soudan--Night and Day Nursing 115
XXII
Sent up to Assouan--Down the Nile on a Post Boat--A Saunter
Home across the Continent 120
XXIII
Back to my old Hospital--In a Ward for Women and
Children--Christmas in a Men's Accident Ward 126
XXIV
Scarlet Fever--At Marlborough House with R.N.P.F. Nurses 132
XXV
The Boer War--A Lucky Meeting at the War Office--Joined the
Army Nursing Service Reserve--Choosing fittings, &c., for
a Hospital of 100 beds 137
XXVI
Voyage out on the _Tantallon Castle_--Some Military Hospitals
near Cape Town--We land in Natal 143
XXVII
Inoculated against Typhoid--We begin to build our
Hospital--Increased from 100 to 200 beds--Unpacking--A Hospital
Ship at Durban 149
XXVIII
Our Food Supplies--Washing Arrangements--Snakes and other
Creatures--A Railway Accident--Our First Patients 156
XXIX
The Princess Christian Hospital Train brings us some Bad
Cases--Men from Elandslaagte--Some Officer Patients--The Bishop
of Pretoria 162
XXX
Dengue Fever amongst the Staff--First Death amongst the Officer
Patients--Mafeking relieved--Our Hospital officially
"Opened"--Colonel Galway--The Trappist Monastery 169
XXXI
A Spion Kop hero--Orderlies knocking up with Enteric--Worsted
work, &c., to amuse the Convalescents--Death of an Orderly
from Enteric--Poem by Officer Patients 175
XXXII
Some distinguished Visitors--We become a Military Hospital--New
Orderlies arrive--"Imperial Bearer Company" men--Our Major 183
XXXIII
Changes on our Staff--The Arrival of Sick Convoys--Our
Servants--The Hospital Commission--The Difficulties of Transport 189
XXXIV
I visit the Battle-fields--At Colenso--Ladysmith--Up Spion Kop--Tin
Town Hospital--On a Red Cross Ambulance 196
XXXV
The Tugela Falls--Pieter's Hill--Hart's Hill--Chieveley--Mooi
River--Maritzburg--Back at Pinetown 203
XXXVI
Prisoners from Pretoria--Our Gardens--We start Poultry Keeping 209
XXXVII
The Natal Volunteers return home--"John"--Flying Ants and
other Plagues 215
XXXVIII
The Buckjumper--The Excellence of the Boer Ponies--The Home
for Lost Dogs! 221
XXXIX
Sudden Orders for Home--Voyage with Lord Roberts on the
_Canada_--Call at Cape Town--A Funeral at Sea 228
XL
Lord and Lady Roberts visit the Hospital--Christmas at Sea--We
anchor off Cowes--Lord Roberts visits Queen Victoria at
Osborne--Sixteen days' leave--Rejoin the _Canada_ to return
to the Cape 235
XLI
The Death of Queen Victoria--Lodgers at Wynberg--The Plague
at Cape Town--Up the Coast with Boer Prisoners 242
XLII
Up Country--Under Canvas--The Sisters' Horses 249
XLIII
Our Tent Flooded--A Cow shares my Tent--Night Duty in the
Rainy Season--Afternoon Duty 256
XLIV
In Charge of Medical Tents--A Present from the Queen--Within
Sound of the Guns--"Kit Inspection"--The Horrors of
Transport in the Ambulance Waggons 263
XLV
A Sudden Collapse--The Winter Begins--Tired of the War 270
XLVI
Night Duty again--A Sick Convoy arrives in the Night--A bad
Pneumonia Case--Nearly Frozen 277
XLVII
Mentioned in Despatches--Ill with Dysentery--A Night at
Pinetown--With my Brother to Uitenhage 283
XLVIII
At Port Elizabeth--Down the Coast to Mossel Bay--We drive, _via_
George, to Oudtshoorn--Martial Law--Under escort to Prince
Albert Road--By Train to Kimberley 290
XLIX
Tales of the Siege--"Long Cecil"--Refugee Camps--A Picnic
under Arms 298
L
By Train to Cape Town--Night Sister on a Troopship--Some
Sad Cases--Home Once More 305
A NURSE'S LIFE IN WAR AND PEACE
I
THE SCHOOL, LINCOLN,
1888.
This is my usual day for writing letters, and I have nothing but the
usual things to write to you about. Each day we get up at the same time,
do the same sort of lessons (not very difficult), eat the same sort of
food (not very interesting), and go for the same dull walks, with an
occasional game of tennis on a badly-kept lawn; but I have been
thinking, and the long and short of it is, that I am going to persuade
my people to let me leave school.
I think you know that some years ago I determined that I would be a
nurse. To be exact, it was in 1883 that Queen Victoria instituted the
Royal Red Cross, and in the same year I was grieving over the fact that
none of the professions in which my brothers were distinguishing
themselves would be open to me, as I was "only a girl"; so I at once
decided that I would try to win the Royal Red Cross.
Well, I am not thinking so much about the decoration now, as wars seem
to be few and far between; but still I think the nursing profession is
the only one I am a bit fitted for, and lately I have been reading
everything I can get hold of on the subject.
You see, I am not a bit clever, and I am no good at music or languages;
so I could never teach. And, on account of having been so delicate when
I was small, I am behind most girls of my age in many subjects; but in
the two terms that I have been here I have won two prizes, and I think I
can work up any subject that I want to as well as most people can.
I know I am not old enough to begin nursing yet, but when I am, it may
be necessary to pay for my first year's training, so I very much want
them to save the money they are now paying for my education to pay for
that, as it seems to me that I am being stuffed with many subjects that,
after I leave school, I shall have no further use for.
I have not yet quite decided which hospital I shall go to. It is clear
that if I want to join the Army Nursing Service, I must go in for three
years' training in a good-sized General Hospital first; but the best of
these hospitals won't accept candidates till they are twenty-three, and
that seems such a very long way off. So perhaps I may take a preliminary
year in a Children's Hospital, or some other special hospital first, but
I am not old enough even for that yet; and as I think F. is going out to
the Canary Islands for the spring, I think it is very likely I may go
with him, as you know I love travelling.
I like this place very well, and I have many friends here; but one thing
is quite definite, and that is that I mean to be a nurse, and with that
in view I think I might be employing my time more profitably than I am
doing here.
II
PORT OROTAVA, TENERIFE,
_April 1889_.
Here we are, in comfortable quarters and in glorious sunshine, the grand
old Peak of Tenerife (with its cap of snow) looking down upon us.
I wish you could be transplanted to this warmth and brightness; but you
would not have enjoyed our experiences on the way here.
You know how cold it was when we left London on the _Ruapehu_; and all
down the Channel it was very cold, but fine and calm. We called at
Plymouth (such a pretty harbour); then, after we left there, our
troubles began. The next day there was a heavy swell, and very few
people appeared on deck. Our stewardess, they said, had "happened of an
accident," but we were well waited upon by a nice little steward. M. was
bad, and stayed in her berth; but with the steward's assistance I
struggled up on the upper deck, and I would not have missed it for
anything. Towards evening it was really blowing hard, and the waves were
grand. We took such plunges down into the trough, and then the great
ship trembled, and seemed to pull herself together to rise on the crest
of the next wave and then take another plunge.
The men were on the trot all day, making everything fast. It was Sunday,
but there was no service--the crew all too hard at work, and the
passengers chiefly in their berths. Towards evening I was wondering how
I should "make" my cabin, when the purser came along and asked if he
might help me down below, as the wind was still rising, and he had been
appointed "runner-in" by the captain, who said we had all better be down
below.
That night and the next day were really very bad indeed. We were
battened down, and the dead-lights were screwed on about 4.30 P.M., and
the electric light supply did not come on till after six; so for that
time we were in darkness, and some of the passengers were really very
much frightened.
Tons of water poured on the main deck and down the companion-ways, and
men were bailing it out near our cabins all night long. I kept feeling
in the dark to see if there was water in our cabin, as it rushed past
the door with a great "swish"; but the step was high, and it did not
come over.
There was no sleep for any one that night; it was all we could do to
keep from being pitched out of our berths.
The men were very funny as they bailed the water out and mopped up.
"Reminds one of washing-day in our backyard--pity my old woman ain't
here," "Sometimes we see a ship, sometimes we ship a sea"--and heaps
more to the same effect. Our steward said he had never had to bail out
so much water before, and he had been six years on the ship. One of the
sails was carried away; and when we got to Santa Cruz the engineers
discovered that part of the rudder had gone.
Two cooks and one of the sailors were knocked down and injured, but I
think not very badly. Two of the boats were washed out of the davits,
and one of the heavy deck-seats (next to the one on which I had spent
the afternoon) was smashed to bits.
Sleep was quite impossible, as it was most difficult to keep in one's
berth, and every now and then there was a great crash as things were
broken in the saloons and galleys. We are still bruised and stiff from
the knocking about.
I have always wanted to see a storm at sea; but I am now quite
satisfied, and I shall never want to see another. It is most unpleasant
to be battened down, and the engines sound to be so fearfully on the
strain and tremble that you feel you must listen for the next beat of
the screw, knowing that if the engines should fail your chance of
weathering the storm would be a very small one indeed.
After that the weather improved, and also became warmer, and the
passengers one by one came crawling up on deck; but most of them looked
as though they had been through a long illness, and could talk about
nothing but their alarm in the storm; and the captain owned he had had a
very anxious time.
We landed at Santa Cruz early one afternoon--a very unsavoury town, with
dirty beggars exhibiting various loathsome diseases and following you
about.
After a little delay we secured a carriage and three horses to drive
across the island to Orotava, twenty-six miles distant--a pretty,
winding road, cool up in the hills, but becoming hot as we descended to
Puerto Orotava. The hotel was full, but we secured rooms in a
dependence; and when we had rested and changed,
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MEMOIRS
CORRESPONDENCE AND MANUSCRIPTS
OF
GENERAL LAFAYETTE
By Lafayette
Published By His Family.
Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1837,
by William A. Duer,
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.
Respectfully to collect and scrupulously to arrange the manuscripts of
which an irreparable misfortune has rendered them depositaries, have
been for the Family of General Lafayette the accomplishment of a sacred
duty.
To publish those manuscripts without any commentary, and place them,
unaltered, in the hands of the friends of Liberty, is a pious and solemn
homage which his children now offer with confidence to his memory.
GEORGE WASHINGTON LAFAYETTE.
ADVERTISEMENT
OF THE AMERICAN EDITOR.
It was the desire of the late General Lafayette, that this edition of
his Memoirs and Correspondence should be considered as a legacy of the
American people. His representatives have accordingly pursued a course
which they conceived the best adapted to give effect to his wishes, by
furnishing a separate edition for this country, without any reservation
for their own advantage, beyond the transfer of the copyright as an
indemnity for the expense and risk of publication.
In this edition are inserted some letters which will not appear in the
editions published in Paris and London. They contain details relating to
the American Revolution, and render the present edition more complete,
or, at least, more interesting to Americans. Although written during
the first residence of General Lafayette in America--when he was little
accustomed to write in the English language--the letters in question are
given exactly as they came from his pen--and as well as the others in
the collection written by him in that language are distinguished from
those translated from the French by having the word "Original" prefixed
to them.
It was intended that these letters should have been arranged among those
in the body of the work; in the order of their respective dates; but as
the latter have been stereotyped before the former had been transmitted
to the American editor, this design was rendered impracticable. They
have therefore from necessity been added in a supplemental form with the
marginal notes which seemed requisite for their explanation.
Columbia College, N. Y., July, 1837.
CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
Notice by the Editors
FIRST VOYAGE AND FIRST CAMPAIGN IN AMERICA--1777, 1778.
Memoirs written by myself, until the year 1780
FRAGMENTS EXTRACTED FROM VARIOUS MANUSCRIPTS
A.--Departure for America in 1777
B.--First Interview between General Washington
and General Lafayette
C.--On the Military commands during the Winter of 1778
D.--Retreat of Barren Hill
E.--Arrival of the French Fleet
F.--Dissensions between the French Fleet
and the American Army
CORRESPONDENCE--1777, 1778:
To the Duke d'Ayen. London, March 9, 1777
To Madame de Lafayette. On board the Victory, May 30
To Madame de Lafayette. Charlestown, June 19
To Madame de Lafayette. Petersburg, July 17
To Madame de Lafayette.--July 23
To Madame de Lafayette. Philadelphia, Sept. 12
To Madame de Lafayette.--Oct. 1
To M. de Vergennes, Minister of Foreign affairs.
Whitemarsh Camp, Oct. 24
To Madame de Lafayette. Whitemarsh Camp, Oct. 29, and Nov. 6
To General Washington. Haddonfeld, Nov. 26
To the Duke d'Ayen. Camp Gulph, Pennsylvania, Dec. 16
To General Washington. Camp, Dec. 30
To General Washington. Head Quarters, Dec. 31
To General Washington. Valley Forge, Dec. 31
To Madame de Lafayette. Camp, near Valley Forge, Jan. 6, 1778
To General Washington
To Madame de Lafayette. York. Feb 3
To General Washington. Hermingtown, Feb. 9
To General Washington. Albany, Feb. 19
To General Washington.--Feb. 23
From General Washington to the Marquis de Lafayette.
Head Quarters, March 10
To Baron de Steuben. Albany, March 12
Fragment of a Letter to the President of Congress.
Albany, March 20
To General Washington. Albany
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MY NATIVE LAND.
The United States: its Wonders, its Beauties, and its People; with
Descriptive Notes, Character Sketches, Folk Lore, Traditions, Legends
and History, for the Amusement of the Old and the Instruction of the
Young.
BY
JAMES COX,
Author of "Our Own Country," "Missouri at the World's Fair," "Old and
New St. Louis," "An Arkansas Eden," "Oklahoma Revisited," Etc.
"Breathes there a man with soul so dead
Who never to himself has said,
This is my own, my native land."
PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED.
1903
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
OUR NATION'S BIRTH.
The Story of Liberty Bell--Impartial Opinions on the Revolutionary
War--The Shot that was Heard Around the World--The First Committee of
Safety--A Defeat which Equaled a Victory--Washington's Earnestness--To
Congress on Horseback--The First 4th of July Celebration.
CHAPTER II.
THE WITCH OF SALEM.
A Relic of Religious Bigotry--Parson Lawson's Tirade against
Witchcraft--Extraordinary Court Records of Old Puritan Days--Alleged
Supernatural Conjuring--A Man and his Wife both put to Death--Crushed
for Refusing to Plead--A Romance of the Old Days of Witch Persecution.
CHAPTER III.
IN PICTURESQUE NEW YORK.
Some Local Errors Corrected--A Trip Down the Hudson River--The Last of
the Mohicans--The Home of Rip Van Winkle--The Ladies of Vassar and their
Home--West Point and its History--Sing Sing Prison--The Falls of
Niagara--Indians in New York State.
CHAPTER IV.
IN THE CENTER OF THE COUNTRY.
The Geographical Center of the United States, and its Location West of
the Mississippi River--The Center of Population--History of Fort
Riley--The Gallant "Seventh"--Early Troubles of Kansas--Extermination of
the Buffalo--But a Few Survivors out of Many Millions.
CHAPTER V.
THE MORMONS AND THEIR WIVES.
The Pilgrimage Across the Bad Lands to Utah--Incidents of the
March--Success of the New Colony--Religious Persecutions--Murder of an
Entire Family--The Curse of Polygamy--An Ideal City--Humors of Bathing
in Great Salt Lake.
CHAPTER VI.
THE INVASION OF OKLAHOMA.
A History of the Indian Nation--Early Struggles of Oklahoma
Boomers--Fight between Home-Seekers and Soldiers--Scenes at the Opening
of Oklahoma Proper--A Miserable Night on the Prairie--A Race for
Homes--Lawlessness in the Old Indian Territory.
CHAPTER VII.
COWBOYS--REAL AND IDEAL.
A Much Maligned Class--The Cowboy as he Is, and as he is Supposed to
be--Prairie Fever and how it is Cured--Life on the Ranch Thirty Years
Ago and Now--Singular Fashions and Changes of Costume--Troubles
Encountered by would-be Bad Men.
CHAPTER VIII.
WARDS OF OUR NATIVE LAND.
The Indians' Admirers and Critics--At School and After--Indian Courtship
and Marriage--Extraordinary Dances--Gambling by Instinct--How
"Cross-Eye" Lost his Pony--Pawning a Baby--Amusing and Degrading Scenes
on Annuity Day.
CHAPTER IX.
CIVILIZATION--ACTUAL AND ALLEGED.
Tried in the Balances and Found Wanting--Indian Archers--Bow and Arrow
Lore--Barbarous Customs that Die Slowly--"Great Wolf," the Indian
Vanderbilt--How the Seri were Taught a Valuable Lesson--Playing with
Rattlesnakes with Impunity.
CHAPTER X.
OLD TIME COMMUNISTS.
Houses on Rocks and Sand Hills--How Many Families Dwelt Together in
Unity--Peculiarities of Costumes--Pueblo Architecture and Folk Lore--A
Historic Struggle and how it Ended--Legends Concerning Montezuma--Curious
Religious Ceremonies.
CHAPTER XI.
HOW CUSTER LIVED AND DIED.
"Remember Custer"--An Eye-Witness of the Massacre--Custer, Cody and
Alexis--A Ride over the Scenes of the Unequal Conflict--Major Reno's
Marked Failure--How "Sitting Bull" Ran Away and Lived to Fight Another
Day--Why a Medicine Man did not Summon Rain.
CHAPTER XII.
AMONG THE CREOLES.
Meaning of the word "Creole"--An Old Aristocratic Relic--The Venice of
America--Origin of the Creole Carnivals--Rex and his Annual
Disguises--Creole Balls--The St
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MY
LITTLE BOY
_by
CARL EWALD_
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH
BY
ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS
MY LITTLE BOY
COPYRIGHT 1906 BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
SOLE AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION
REPRINTED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PUBLISHERS. NO PART OF THIS
WORK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
_MY LITTLE BOY_
I
My little boy is beginning to live.
Carefully, stumbling now and then on his little knock-kneed legs, he
makes his way over the paving-stones, looks at everything that there is
to look at and bites at every apple, both those which are his due and
those which are forbidden him.
He is not a pretty child and is the more likely to grow into a fine lad.
But he is charming.
His face can light up suddenly and become radiant; he can look at you
with quite cold eyes. He has a strong intuition and he is incorruptible.
He has never yet bartered a kiss for barley-sugar. There are people whom
he likes and people whom he dislikes. There is one who has long courted
his favour indefatigably and in vain; and, the other day, he formed a
close friendship with another who had not so much as said "Good day" to
him before he had crept into her lap and nestled there with glowing
resolution.
He has a habit which I love.
When we are walking together and there is anything that impresses him,
he lets go my hand for a moment. Then, when he has investigated the
phenomenon and arrived at a result, I feel his little fist in mine
again.
He has bad habits too.
He is apt, for instance, suddenly and without the slightest reason, to
go up to people whom he meets in the street and hit them with his little
stick. What is in his mind, when he does so, I do not know; and, so long
as he does not hit me, it remains a matter between himself and the
people concerned.
He has an odd trick of seizing big words in a grown-up conversation,
storing them up for a while and then asking me for an explanation:
"Father," he says, "what is life?"
I give him a tap in his little stomach, roll him over on the carpet and
conceal my emotion under a mighty romp. Then, when we sit breathless and
tired, I answer, gravely:
"Life is delightful, my little boy. Don't you be afraid of it!"
II
Today my little boy gave me my first lesson.
It was in the garden.
I was writing in the shade of the big chestnut-tree, close to where the
brook flows past. He was sitting a little way off, on the grass, in the
sun, with Hans Christian Andersen in his lap.
Of course, he does not know how to read, but he lets you read to him,
likes to hear the same tales over and over again. The better he knows
them, the better he is pleased. He follows the story page by page, knows
exactly where everything comes and catches you up immediately should you
skip a line.
There are two tales which he loves more than anything in the world.
These are Grimm's _Faithful John_ and Andersen's _The Little Mermaid_.
When anyone comes whom he likes, he fetches the big Grimm, with those
heaps of pictures, and asks for _Faithful John_. Then, if the reader
stops, because it is so terribly sad, with all those little dead
children, a bright smile lights up his small, long face and he says,
reassuringly and pleased at "knowing better":
"Yes, but they come to life again."
Today, however, it is _The Little Mermaid_.
"Is that the sort of stories you write?" he asks.
"Yes," I say, "but I am afraid mine will not be so pretty."
"You must take pains," he says.
And I promise.
For a time he makes no sound. I go on writing and forget
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Transcriber's note: Italic text is indicated by _underscores_; boldface
text is indicated by =equals signs=.
English Men of Action
MONK
[Illustration]
[Illustration: MONK
From a Miniature by SAMUEL COOPER in the Royal Collection at Windsor]
MONK
BY
JULIAN CORBETT
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1889
_All rights reserved_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
DEVONSHIRE AND FOREIGN SERVICE 1
CHAPTER II
FOR KING AND PARLIAMENT 15
CHAPTER III
THE KING'S COMMISSION 33
CHAPTER IV
THE PARLIAMENT'S COMMISSION 46
CHAPTER V
THE TREATY WITH THE IRISH NATIONALISTS 56
CHAPTER VI
CROMWELL'S NEW LIEUTENANT 69
CHAPTER VII
GENERAL-AT-SEA 83
CHAPTER VIII
GOVERNOR OF SCOTLAND 95
CHAPTER IX
THE ABORTIVE PRONUNCIAMENTO 116
CHAPTER X
THE NEGLECTED QUANTITY 129
CHAPTER XI
THE BLOODLESS CAMPAIGN 144
CHAPTER XII
ON THE WINGS OF THE STORM 160
CHAPTER XIII
THE UNCROWNED KING 178
CHAPTER XIV
THE FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY 195
CHAPTER I
DEVONSHIRE AND FOREIGN SERVICE
In the middle of September, 1625, the great expedition by which
Charles the First and Buckingham meant to revenge themselves upon the
Spaniards for the ignominious failure of their escapade to Madrid was
still choking Plymouth harbour with disorder and confusion. Impatient
to renew the glories of Drake and Raleigh and Essex, the young King
went down in person to hasten its departure. Great receptions were
prepared for him at the principal points of his route, and bitter was
the disappointment at Exeter that he was not to visit the city. For
the plague was raging within its walls, and while holiday was kept
everywhere else, the shadow of death was upon the ancient capital of
the west.
Hardly, however, had the King passed them by when the citizens had
a new excitement of their own. The noise of a quarrel broke in upon
the gloom of the stricken city. Those within hearing ran to the spot
and found a sight worth seeing. For there in the light of day, under
the King's very nose, as it were, a stalwart young gentleman of about
sixteen years of age was thrashing the under-sheriff of Devonshire
within an inch of his life. With some difficulty, so furious was his
assault, the lad was dragged off his victim before grievous bodily harm
was done, and people began to inquire what it was all about.
Every one must have known young George Monk, who lived with his
grandfather, Sir George Smith, at Heavytree, close to Exeter. Sir
George Smith of Maydford was a great Exeter magnate, and his grandson
and godson George belonged to one of the best families in Devonshire,
and was connected with half the rest; and had they known how the
handsome boy was avenging the family honour in his own characteristic
way, they would certainly have sympathised with him for the scrape he
was in.
For the honour of the Monks of Potheridge in North Devon was a very
serious thing. There for seventeen generations the family had lived.
Ever since Henry the Third was King they had looked down from their
high-perched manor-house over the lovely valley of the Torridge just
where the river doubles upon itself in three majestic sweeps as though
it were loath to leave a spot so beautiful. By dint of judicious
marriages they had managed to be still prosperous and well connected.
It was no secret indeed that they claimed royal blood by two descents
on the distaff side. For the grandmother of George's father, Sir
Thomas, was Frances Plantagenet, daughter and co-heiress of Arthur
Plantagenet, Viscount Lisle; and his grandfather's grandmother, as
co-heiress of Richard Champernown of Insworth, had brought him the
Cornish bordure and kinship with King John through Richard, King of the
Romans, and his son, the Earl of Cornwall.
But of late things had been going very hard at Potheridge. Sir
Thomas had succeeded to a heavily encumber
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[Illustration]
THE WOODPECKERS
BY
FANNIE HARDY ECKSTORM
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
[Illustration]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1901
COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY FANNIE HARDY ECKSTORM
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_To_ MY FATHER MR. MANLY HARDY _A Lifelong Naturalist_
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
FOREWORD: THE RIDDLERS 1
I. HOW TO KNOW A WOODPECKER 4
II. HOW THE WOODPECKER CATCHES A GRUB 9
III. HOW THE WOODPECKER COURTS HIS MATE 15
IV. HOW THE WOODPECKER MAKES A HOUSE 20
V. HOW A FLICKER FEEDS HER YOUNG 24
VI. FRIEND DOWNY 28
VII. PERSONA NON GRATA. (YELLOW-BELLIED SAPSUCKER) 33
VIII. EL CARPINTERO. (CALIFORNIAN WOODPECKER) 46
IX. A RED-HEADED COUSIN. (RED-HEADED WOODPECKER) 55
X. A STUDY OF ACQUIRED HABITS 60
XI. THE WOODPECKER'S TOOLS: HIS BILL 68
XII. THE WOODPECKER'S TOOLS: HIS FOOT 77
XIII. THE WOODPECKER'S TOOLS: HIS TAIL 86
XIV. THE WOODPECKER'S TOOLS: HIS TONGUE 99
XV. HOW EACH WOODPECKER IS FITTED FOR HIS OWN
KIND OF LIFE 104
XVI. THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN 110
APPENDIX 113
A. KEY TO THE WOODPECKERS OF NORTH AMERICA 114
B. DESCRIPTIONS OF THE WOODPECKERS OF
NORTH AMERICA 117
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Flicker () _Frontispiece_
Boring Larva 10
Indian Spear 12
Solomon Islander's Spear 13
Downy Woodpecker () _facing_ 28
Bark showing Work of Sapsucker 34
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker () _facing_ 34
Trunk of Tree showing Work of Californian Woodpecker 47
Californian Woodpecker () _facing_ 48
Red-headed Woodpecker () _facing_ 56
Head of the Lewis's Woodpecker 59
Head of Ivory-billed Woodpecker 70
Foot of Woodpecker 77
Diagram of Right Foot 79
Foot of Three-toed Woodpecker 80
Tail of Hairy Woodpecker 86
Tails of Brown Creeper and Chimney Swift 87
Middle Tail Feathers of Flicker, Ivory-billed
Woodpecker, and Hairy Woodpecker 89
Diagram of Curvature of Tails of Woodpeckers 90
Patterns of Tails 91
Under Side of Middle Tail Feather of
Ivory-billed Woodpecker 97
Tongue of Hairy Woodpecker 99
Tongue-bones of Flicker 100
Skull of Woodpecker, showing Bones of Tongue 101
Hyoids of Sapsucker and Golden-fronted Woodpecker 102
Diagram of Head of a Flicker 113
_The illustrations are by Louis Agassiz Fuertes.
The text cuts are from drawings by John L. Ridgway._
THE WOODPECKERS
FOREWORD: THE RIDDLERS
Long ago in Greece, the legend runs, a terrible monster called the
Sphinx used to waylay travelers to ask them riddles: whoever could not
answer these she killed, but the man who did answer them killed her and
made an end of her riddling.
To-day there is no Sphinx to fear, yet the world is full of unguessed
riddles. No thoughtful man can go far afield but some bird or flower or
stone bars his way with a question demanding an answer; and though many
men have been diligently spelling out the answers for many years, and we
for the most part must study the answers they have proved, and must
reply in their words, yet those shrewd old riddlers, the birds and
flowers and bees, are always ready for a new victim, putting their heads
together over some new enigma to bar the road to knowledge till that,
too, shall be answered; so that other men's learning does not always
suffice. So much of a man's pleasure in life, so much of his power,
depends on his ability to silence these persistent questioners, that
this little book was written with the hope of making clearer the kind of
questions Dame Nature asks, and the way to get correct answers.
This is purposely a _little_ book, dealing only with a single group of
birds, treating particularly only some of the commoner species of that
group, taking up only a few of the problems that present themselves to
the naturalist for solution, and aiming rather to make the reader
_acquainted with_ the birds than _learned about_ them.
The woodpeckers were selected in preference to any other family because
they are patient under observation, easily identified, resident in all
parts of the country both in summer and in winter, and because more than
any other birds they leave behind them records of their work which may
be studied after the birds have flown. The book provides ample means for
identifying every species and subspecies of woodpecker known in North
America, though only five of the commonest and most interesting species
have been selected for special study. At least three of these five
should be found in almost every part of the country. The Californian
woodpecker is never seen in the East, nor the red-headed in the far
West, but the downy and the hairy are resident nearly everywhere, and
some species of the flickers and sapsuckers, if not always the ones
chosen for special notice, are visitors in most localities.
Look for the woodpeckers in orchards and along the edges of thickets,
among tangles of wild grapes and in patches of low, wild berries, upon
which they often feed, among dead trees and in the track of forest
fires. Wherever there are boring larvae, beetles, ants, grasshoppers, the
fruit of poison-ivy, dogwood, june-berry, wild cherry or wild grapes,
woodpeckers may be confidently looked for if there are any in the
neighborhood. Be patient, persistent, wide-awake, sure that you see what
you think you see, careful to remember what you have seen, studious to
compare your observations, and keen to hear the questions propounded
you. If you do this seven years and a day, you will earn the name of
Naturalist; and if you travel the road of the naturalist with curious
patience, you may some day become as famous a riddle-reader as was that
Oedipus, the king of Thebes, who slew the Sphinx.
I
HOW TO KNOW A WOODPECKER
The woodpecker is the easiest of all birds to recognize. Even if
entirely new to you, you may readily decide whether a bird is a
woodpecker or not.
The woodpecker is always striking and is often gay in color. He is
usually noisy, and his note is clear and characteristic. His shape and
habits are peculiar, so that whenever you see a bird clinging to the
side of a tree "as if he had been thrown at it and stuck," you may
safely call him a woodpecker. Not that all birds which cling to the bark
of trees are woodpeckers,--for
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A Plain Introduction to the Criticism of the New Testament
For the Use of Biblical Students
By The Late
Frederick Henry Ambrose Scrivener
M.A., D.C.L., LL.D.
Prebendary of Exeter, Vicar of Hendon
Fourth Edition, Edited by
The Rev. Edward Miller, M.A.
Formerly Fellow and Tutor of New College, Oxford
Vol. I.
George Bell & Sons, York Street, Covent Garden
Londo, New York, and Cambridge
1894
CONTENTS
Preface To Fourth Edition.
Description Of The Contents Of The Lithographed Plates.
Addenda Et Corrigenda.
Chapter I. Preliminary Considerations.
Chapter II. General Character Of The Greek Manuscripts Of The New
Testament.
Chapter III. Divisions Of The Text, And Other Particulars.
Appendix To Chapter III. Synaxarion And Eclogadion Of The Gospels And
Apostolic Writings Daily Throughout The Year.
Chapter IV. The Larger Uncial Manuscripts Of The Greek Testament.
Chapter V. Uncial Manuscripts Of The Gospels.
Chapter VI. Uncial Manuscripts Of The Acts And Catholic Epistles, Of St.
Paul's Epistles, And Of The Apocalypse.
Chapter VII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part I.
Chapter VIII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part II.
Chapter IX. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Gospels. Part III.
Chapter X. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Acts And Catholic Epistles.
Chapter XI. Cursive Manuscripts Of St. Paul's Epistles.
Chapter XII. Cursive Manuscripts Of The Apocalypse.
Chapter XIII. Evangelistaries, Or Manuscript Service-Books Of The Gospels.
Chapter XIV. Lectionaries Containing The Apostolos Or Praxapostolos.
Appendix A. Chief Authorities.
Appendix B. On Facsimiles.
Appendix C. On Dating By Indiction.
Appendix D. On The {~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}.
Appendix E. Table Of Differences Between The Fourth Edition Of Dr.
Scrivener's Plain Introduction And Dr. Gregory's Prolegomena.
Index I. Of Greek Manuscripts.
Index II. Of Writers, Past Owners, And Collators Of Mss.
Footnotes
[Illustration.]
Frederick Henry Ambrose Scrivener
In templo Dei offert unusquisque quod potest: alii aurum, argentum, et
lapides pretiosos: alii byssum et purpuram et coccum offerunt et
hyacinthum. Nobiscum bene agitur, si obtulerimus pelles et caprarum pilos.
Et tamen Apostolus contemtibiliora nostra magis necessaria judicat.
HIERONYMI _Prologus Galeatus_.
Dedication
[In The Third Edition]
_To His Grace_
_Edward, Lord Archbishop of Canterbury_.
MY LORD ARCHBISHOP,
Nearly forty years ago, under encouragement from your venerated
predecessor Archbishop Howley, and with the friendly help of his Librarian
Dr. Maitland, I entered upon the work of collating manuscripts of the
Greek New Testament by examining the copies brought from the East by
Professor Carlyle, and purchased for the Lambeth Library in 1805. I was
soon called away from this employment--{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI AND YPOGEGRAMMENI~}--to less
congenial duties in that remote county, wherein long after it was your
Grace's happy privilege to refresh the spirits of Churchmen and
Churchwomen, by giving them pious work to do, and an example in the doing
of it. What I have since been able to accomplish in the pursuits of sacred
criticism, although very much less than I once anticipated, has proved, I
would fain hope, not without its use to those who love Holy Scripture, and
the studies which help to the understanding of the same.
Among
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[Illustration: THE CREATURE SPRANG TO ITS FEET]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
A LITTLE MAID OF PROVINCE TOWN
By
ALICE TURNER CURTIS
Author Of
A Little Maid of Massachusetts Colony
A Little Maid of Narragansett Bay
A Little Maid of Bunker Hill
A Little Maid of Ticonderoga
A Little Maid of Old Connecticut
A Little Maid of Old Philadelphia
Illustrated by Wuanita Smith
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
Philadelphia
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT
1913 BY
THE PENN
PUBLISHING
COMPANY
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Anne Nelson 1
II. Anne Wins a Friend 14
III. Anne's Secret 27
IV. Anne and the Wolf 39
V. Scarlet Stockings 51
VI. Captured by Indians 62
VII. Out to Sea 73
VIII. On the Island 86
IX. The Castaways 97
X. Safe at Home 107
XI. Captain Enos's Secrets 119
XII. An Unexpected Journey 129
XIII. Anne Finds Her Father 143
XIV. A Candy Party 157
XV. A Spring Picnic 177
XVI. The May Party 186
XVII. The Sloop, "Peggy" 195
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The Creature Sprang to Its Feet 1
A Blanket Fell Over Her Head 65
She Worked Steadily 111
"This Is From Boston" 162
The Boat Began to Tip 194
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Little Maid of Province Town
CHAPTER I
ANNE NELSON
"I don't know what I can do with you, I'm sure!" declared Mistress
Stoddard, looking down at the small girl who stood on her door-step gazing
wistfully up at her.
"A man at the wharf said that you didn't have any little girls," responded
the child, "and so I thought----"
"'Twas Joe Starkweather told you, I'll be bound," said Mrs. Stoddard.
"Well, he's seven of his own to fend for."
"Seven little girls?" said Anne Nelson, in an almost terror-stricken
voice, her dark eyes looking earnestly into the stern face that frowned
down upon her. "And what would become of them if their mother should die,
and their father be lost at sea?"
"Sure enough. You have sense, child. But the Starkweathers are all boys.
Well, come in. You can take your bundle to the loft and leave it, and
we'll see what I can find for you to do. How old are you?"
"Eight last March," responded Anne.
"Well, a child of eight isn't much use in a house, but maybe you can save
me steps."
"Yes, indeed, Mistress Stoddard; I did a deal to help my father about the
house. He said I could do as much as a woman. I can sweep out for you, and
lay the table and wash the dishes, and bring in the wood and water,
and----" there came a break in the little girl's voice, and the woman
reached out a kindly hand and took the child's bundle.
"Come in," she said, and Anne instantly felt the tenderness of her voice.
"We are poor enough, but you'll be welcome to food and shelter, child,
till such time as some of your own kinsfolk send for thee."
"I have no kinsfolk," declared Anne; "my father told me that."
"Come you in; you'll have a bed and a crust while I have them to give
you," declared the woman, and Anne Nelson went across the threshold and up
to the bare loft, where she put her bundle down on a wooden stool and
looked about the room.
There was but a narrow bed in the corner, covered with a patchwork quilt,
and the wooden stool where Anne had put her bundle. The one narrow window
looked off across the sandy cart tracks which served as a road toward the
blue waters of Cape Cod Bay. It was early June, and the strong breath of
the sea filled the rough little house, bringing with it the fragrance of
the wild cherry blossoms and an odor of pine from the scrubby growths on
the low line of hills back of the little settlement.
It was just a year ago, Anne remembered, as she unwrapped her bundle, that
she and her father had sailed across the harbor from Ipswich, where her
mother had died.
"We will live here, at the very end of the world, where a man may think as
he pleases," her father had said, and had moved their few household
possessions into a three-roomed house near the shore. Then he had given
his time to fishing, leaving Anne alone in the little house to do as she
pleased.
She was a quiet child, and found entertainment in building sand houses on
the beach, in wandering along the shore searching for bright shells and
smooth pebbles, and in doing such simple household tasks as her youth
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IRELAND UNDER THE STUARTS
VOL. III.
_By the same Author_
IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS
3 vols. 8vo.
Vols. I. and II.--From the First Invasion of the Northmen to the year
1578.
(Out of Print.)
Vol. III.--1578-1603. 18_s._
IRELAND UNDER THE STUARTS AND DURING THE INTERREGNUM
3 vols. 8vo.
Vols. I. and II.--1603-1660. With 2 Maps.
28_s._ net.
LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
London, New York, Bombay, Calcutta,
and Madras
IRELAND
UNDER THE STUARTS
AND
DURING THE INTERREGNUM
BY
RICHARD BAGWELL, M.A.
HON. LITT.D. (DUBLIN), AUTHOR OF 'IRELAND UNDER THE TUDORS'
VOL. III. 1660-1690
_WITH MAP_
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
FOURTH AVENUE & 30th STREET, NEW YORK
BOMBAY, CALCUTTA, AND MADRAS
1916
All rights reserved
CONTENTS
OF
THE THIRD VOLUME
CHAPTER XL
THE RESTORATION GOVERNMENT, 1660
PAGE
The Irish Convention 1
Charles II. proclaimed 3
Coote and Broghill 4
The Church re-established 8
CHAPTER XLI
DECLARATION AND ACT OF SETTLEMENT, 1660-1662
Position of Irish Recusants 11
The Declaration 13
Various classes of claimants 14
First Commission of Claims 16
The Irish Parliament, May 1661 18
The Declaration debated 19
Conditions of Settlement 20
Insufficiency of land 22
Ormonde Lord Lieutenant 24
He arrives in Ireland 27
The Clanmalier Estate--Portarlington 28
CHAPTER XLII
COURT OF CLAIMS AND ACT OF EXPLANATION, 1662-1665
The second Court of Claims 30
Innocents and Nocents 31
General dissatisfaction 32
Discontented soldiers 34
Plot to seize Dublin Castle--Blood 35
Lord Antrim's case 39
'Murder will out' 42
Bill of Explanation 43
Violent debates 49
The Bill passes 50
CHAPTER XLIII
ORMONDE AND THE IRISH HIERARCHY
Ormonde's royalism 51
Peter Walsh, Orrery, and Bellings 51
Walsh and the loyal remonstrance 55
Opposition of Primate O'Reilly 56
Incompatibility of royal and papal claims 58
The Congregation meets, June 1666 61
The Remonstrance rejected 62
Why the Congregation failed 64
CHAPTER XLIV
GOVERNMENT OF ORMONDE, 1665-1668
Irish Parliament dissolved 67
Mutiny at Carrickfergus 68
Partial exclusion of Irish cattle 69
The Canary Company 70
Disputes on the cattle question 72
Irish cattle excluded and voted a public nuisance 74
Evil effects of exclusion policy 77
Ireland retaliates on Scotland 79
The first Dutch war--coast defence 81
Fall of Clarendon 84
Ormonde and Orrery 86
Recall of Ormonde 87
CHAPTER XLV
ROBARTES AND BERKELEY, 1669-1672
Lord Robartes made Lord Lieutenant 89
The Tories 90
Ossory and Robartes 92
Character of Robartes 94
Attempt to
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My Lady Caprice
by
Jeffery Farnol
CONTENTS
I. TREASURE TROVE
II. THE SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM
III. THE DESPERADOES
IV. MOON MAGIC
V. THE EPISODE OF THE INDIAN'S AUNT
VI. THE OUTLAW
VII. THE BLASTED OAK
VIII. THE LAND OF HEART'S DELIGHT
I
TREASURE TROVE
I sat fishing. I had not caught anything, of course--I rarely do, nor
am I fond of fishing in the very smallest degree, but I fished
assiduously all the same, because circumstances demanded it.
It had all come about through Lady Warburton, Lisbeth's maternal aunt.
Who Lisbeth is you will learn if you trouble to read these veracious
narratives--suffice it for the present that she has been an orphan from
her youth up, with no living relative save her married sister Julia and
her Aunt (with a capital A)--the Lady Warburton aforesaid.
Lady Warburton is small and somewhat bony, with a sharp chin and a
sharper nose, and invariably uses lorgnette; also, she is possessed of
much worldly goods.
Precisely a week ago Lady Warburton had requested me to call upon
her--had regarded me with a curious exactitude through her lorgnette,
and gently though firmly (Lady Warburton is always firm) had suggested
that Elizabeth, though a dear child, was young and inclined to be a
little self-willed. That she (Lady Warburton) was of opinion that
Elizabeth had mistaken the friendship which had existed between us so
long for something stronger. That although she (Lady Warburton) quite
appreciated the fact that one who wrote books, and occasionally a play,
was not necessarily immoral-- Still I was, of course, a terrible
Bohemian, and the air of Bohemia was not calculated to conduce to that
degree of matrimonial harmony which she (Lady Warburton) as Elizabeth's
Aunt, standing to her in place of a mother, could wish for. That,
therefore, under these circumstances my attentions were--etc., etc.
Here I would say in justice to myself that despite the torrent of her
eloquence I had at first made some attempt at resistance; but who could
hope to contend successfully against a woman possessed of such an
indomitable nose and chin, and one, moreover, who could level a pair of
lorgnette with such deadly precision? Still, had Lisbeth been beside
me things might have been different even then; but she had gone away
into the country--so Lady Warburton had informed me. Thus alone and at
her mercy, she had succeeded in wringing from me a half promise that I
would cease my attentions for the space of six months, "just to give
dear Elizabeth time to learn her own heart in regard to the matter."
This was last Monday. On the Wednesday following, as I wandered
aimlessly along Piccadilly, at odds with Fortune and myself, but
especially with myself, my eye encountered the Duchess of Chelsea.
The Duchess is familiarly known as the "Conversational Brook" from the
fact that when once she begins she goes on forever. Hence, being in my
then frame of mind, it was with a feeling of rebellion that I obeyed
the summons of her parasol and crossed over to the brougham.
"So she's gone away?" was her greeting as I raised my hat--"Lisbeth,"
she nodded, "I happened to hear something about her, you know."
It is strange, perhaps, but the Duchess generally does "happen to hear"
something about everything. "And you actually allowed yourself to be
bullied into making that promise--Dick! Dick! I'm ashamed of you."
"How was I to help myself?" I began. "You see--"
"Poor boy!" said the Duchess, patting me affectionately with the handle
of her parasol, "it wasn't to be expected, of course. You see, I know
her--many, many years ago I was at school with Agatha Warburton."
"But she probably didn't use lorgnettes then, and--"
"Her nose was just as sharp though--'peaky' I used to call it," nodded
the Duchess. "And she has actually sent Lisbeth away--dear child--and
to such a horrid, quiet little place, too, where she'll have nobody to
talk to but that young Selwyn.
"I beg pardon, Duchess, but--"
"Horace Selwyn, of Selwyn Park--cousin to Lord Selwyn, of Brankesmere.
Agatha has been scheming for it a long time, under the rose, you know.
Of course, it would be a good match, in a way--wealthy, and all
that--but I must say he bores me horribly--so very serious and precise!"
"Really!" I exclaimed, "do you mean to say--"
"I expect she will have them married before they know it--Agatha's
dreadfully determined. Her character lies in her nose and chin."
"But Lisbeth is not a child--she has a will of her own, and--"
"True," nodded the Duchess, "but is it a match for Agatha's chin? And
then, too, it is rather more than possible that you are become the
object of her bitterest scorn by now.
"But, my dear Duchess--"
"Oh, Agatha is a born diplomat. Of course she has written before this,
and without actually saying it has managed to convey the fact that you
are a monster of perfidy; and Lisbeth, poor child, is probably crying
her eyes out, or imagining she hates you, is ready to accept the first
proposal she receives out of pure pique."
"Great heavens!" I exclaimed, "what on earth can I do?"
"You might go fishing," the Duchess suggested thoughtfully.
"Fishing!" I repeated, "--er, to be sure, but--"
"Riverdale is a very pretty place they tell me," pursued the Duchess in
the same thoughtful tone; "there is a house there, a fine old place
called Fane Court. It stands facing the river, and adjoins Selwyn
Park, I believe."
"Duchess," I exclaimed, as I jotted down the address upon my cuff, "I
owe you a debt of gratitude that I can never--"
"Tut, tut!" said her Grace.
"I think I'll start to-day, and--"
"You really couldn't do better," nodded the duchess.
* * * * *
And so it befell that on this August afternoon I sat in the shade of
the alders fishing, with the smoke of my pipe floating up into the
sunshine.
By adroit questioning I had elicited from mine host of the Three Jolly
Anglers the precise whereabouts of Fane Court, the abode of Lisbeth's
sister, and guided by his directions, had chosen this sequestered spot,
where by simply turning my head I could catch a glimpse of its tall
chimneys above the swaying green of the treetops.
It
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{Transcriber's Note: Quotation marks have been standardized to modern
usage. Footnotes have been placed to immediately follow the paragraphs
referencing them. Transcriber's notes are in curly braces; square brackets
and parentheses indicate original content.}
{Illustration: Frontispiece--Norman B. Wood.}
LIVES of FAMOUS
INDIAN CHIEFS
FROM COFACHIQUI, THE INDIAN PRINCESS, AND
POWHATAN; DOWN TO AND INCLUDING
CHIEF JOSEPH AND GERONIMO.
Also an answer, from the
latest research, of the query,
WHENCE CAME THE INDIAN?
Together with a number
of thrillingly interesting
INDIAN STORIES AND ANECDOTES FROM HISTORY
* * * * *
COPIOUSLY AND SPLENDIDLY ILLUSTRATED, IN PART,
BY OUR SPECIAL ARTIST.
* * * * *
By
NORMAN B. WOOD
Historian, Lecturer, and Author of "The White Side of a Black Subject" (out
of print after twelve editions) and "A New <DW64> for a New Century,"
which has reached a circulation of nearly a _hundred thousand copies._
{Illustration: Two Indians in a canoe.}
PUBLISHED BY
AMERICAN INDIAN HISTORICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY
Brady Block, Aurora, Ill.
Copyrighted in 1906 by American Indian Historical Publishing Co.,
Aurora, Illinois.
* * * * *
All rights of every kind reserved.
{Illustration: seal.}
PRINTING AND BINDING BY THE HENRY O. SHEPARD CO.
ENGRAVING BY THE INLAND-WALTON CO.
CHICAGO.
TO
THEODORE ROOSEVELT,
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES,
Who has observed closely and recorded justly the
character of the Red Man, and who, in the words
of Chief Quanah Parker, "is the Indian's President
as well as the white man's," this volume is respectfully
dedicated by
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS
* * * * *
page
Introduction, 11
CHAPTER I.
Cofachiqui, The Indian Princess, 21
CHAPTER II.
Powhatan, or Wah-Un-So-Na-Cook, 41
CHAPTER III.
Massasoit, The Friend of the Puritans, 65
CHAPTER IV.
King Philip, or Metacomet, The Last of the Wampanoaghs, 85
CHAPTER V.
Pontiac, The Red Napoleon, Head Chief of the Ottawas and
Organizer of the First Great Indian Confederation, 121
CHAPTER VI.
Logan, or Tal-Ga-Yee-Ta, The Cayuga (Mingo) Chief, Orator
and Friend of the White Man. Also a Brief Sketch of
Cornstalk, 173
CHAPTER VII.
Captain Joseph Brant, or Thay-En-Da-Ne-Gea, Principal
Sachem of the Mohawks and Head Chief of the Iroquois
Confederation, 191
CHAPTER VIII.
Red Jacket, or Sa-Go-Ye-Wat-Ha, "The Keeper Awake." The
Indian Demosthenes, Chief of the Senecas, 237
CHAPTER IX.
Little Turtle, or Michikiniqua, War Chief of the Miamis, and
Conqueror of Harmar and St. Clair, 283
CHAPTER X.
Tecumseh, or "The Shooting Star," Famous War-chief of the
Shawnees, Organizer of the Second Great Indian Confederation
and General in the British Army in the War of 1812, 317
CHAPTER XI.
Black Hawk, or Ma-Ka-Tai-Me-She-Kia-Kiak, and His War, 363
CHAPTER XII.
Shabbona, or Built Like a Bear, The White Man's Friend, a
Celebrated Pottawatomie Chief, 401
CHAPTER XIII.
Sitting Bull, or Tatanka Yotanka, The Great Sioux Chief and
Medicine Man, 443
CHAPTER XIV.
Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perces, or Hin-Mah-Too-Yah-Lat-Kekt,
Thunder Rolling in the Mountains, The Modern Xenophon, 497
CHAPTER XV.
Geronimo, or Go-Yat-Thlay, The Yawner, The Renowned
Apache Chief and Medicine Man, 529
CHAPTER XVI.
Quanah Parker, Head Chief of the Comanches, With, an
Account of the Captivity of His Mother, Cynthia Anne
Parker, Known as "The White Comanche," 563
CHAPTER XVII.
A Sheaf of Good Indian Stories From History, 589
CHAPTER XVIII.
Indian Anecdotes and Incidents, Humorous and Otherwise, 673
CHAPTER XIX.
Whence Came the Aborigines of America? 721
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
* * * * *
page
1 Frontispiece.
2 Cofachiqui, The Indian Princess, 19
3 American Horse, Sioux Chief, 29
4 Powhatan, 39
5 Captain Smith and Pocahontas, 49
6 Pocahontas, or Lady Rebecca, 59
7 Ope-Chan-Ca-Nough, 69
8 Massasoit and Pilgrims, 79
9 Nellie Jumping Eagle, 89
10 King Philip, or Metacomet, 99
11 Philip Rejecting Elliot's Preaching, 109
12 Pontiac, The Red Napoleon, 119
13 Montcalm at Massacre of Quebec, 129
14 Hollow-Horn Bear, Sioux Chief, 139
15 Major Campbell and Pontiac, 149
16 Hollow Horn, 159
17 Starved Rock, 169
18 Logan, The Mingo Orator, 179
19 Logan and the Two Hunters, 189
20 Joseph Brant, Mohawk Chief, 199
21 King Hendrick, Mohawk Chief, 209
22 Sir William Johnson and the Mohawks, 219
23 Leading Hawk, 229
24 Red Jacket, Seneca Chief and Orator, 239
25 Massacre at Wyoming, 249
26 Corn Planter, Seneca Chief, 259
27 Adolph Knock and Family, 269
28 Red Jacket Presenting Deer, 279
29 Little Turtle, Miami War-chief, 289
30 Little Turtle's Warriors Chasing St. Clair's Scout 299
31 Ouray, Late Principal Chief of Utes, 309
32 Tecumseh, The Noblest Indian of Them All, 319
33 Tecumseh Rebuking Proctor, 329
34 The Prophet, Brother of Tecumseh, 339
35 Red Cloud, Noted Sioux Chief, 349
36 Death of Tecumseh, 359
37 Black Hawk, Sac and Fox Chief, 369
38 Buffalo Hunt, 379
39 Keokuk, Sac and Fox Chief, 389
40 Shabbona, "The White Man's Friend," Pottawatomie Chief, 399
41 Fort Dearborn Massacre, 409
42 Annie Red Shirt, Indian Beauty, 419
43 Waubonsie, Pottawatomie Chief, 429
44 Plan of Sitting Bull's Tepee, 440
45 Sitting Bull, Noted Sioux Chief and Medicine Man, 441
46 Sitting Bull's Family, 451
47 Chief Gall, Sioux War-chief, 461
48 Chief One Bull and Family, 471
49 Rain-In-The-Face, Noted Sioux Warrior, 481
50 Sitting Bull's Autograph, 486
51 Indian Village, 491
55 Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perces, Greatest Indian Since
Tecumseh, 501
53 Buckskin Charlie, War-chief of Utes, 511
54 "Comes Out Holy," Sioux, 521
55 Geronimo, Noted Apache Chief and Medicine Man, 531
56 Group of Apaches, 541
57 Naiche, Apache Chief, 551
58 Quanah Parker, Comanche Chief, 561
59 Quanah Parker and Two of His Wives, 571
60 Comanche Indians Stealing Cows, 581
61 Needle Parker, Indian Beauty, 591
62 The Mohawk's Last Arrow, 601
63 Lone Wolf, Orator and Principal Chief of the Kiowas, 611
64 Kiowa Annie, Noted Indian Beauty, 621
65 Se-Quo-Yah, The Cherokee Cadmus, 631
66 Big Tree, Second Kiowa Chief, 641
67 Satanta, Kiowa Chief and Noted Orator, 651
68 Chief Simon Pokagon, Pottawatomie, 661
69 Dr. Charles A. Eastman, 671
70 Dr. Carlos Montezuma, 681
71 The Last Shot, 691
72 Chief Charles Journey Cake, 701
73 Indian Maiden in Japanese Costume, 713
74 Japanese Maiden in Indian Costume, 725
75 Map Showing How America Was Peopled, 737
76 Japanese Man in Garb of Indian, 749
77 Indian Man in Japanese Garb, 761
INTRODUCTION.
We do not propose to apologize for writing this book, for the reasons that
those who approve would not consider it necessary and those who oppose
would not accept the apology. Therefore, we can only offer the same
explanation as that made twenty-four centuries ago by the "Father of
History" when he said: "To rescue from oblivion the noble deeds of those
who have gone before, I, Herodotus of Halicarnassus, write this chronicle."
We deem it well, however, to mention a few of the many reasons which
impelled us to attempt the somewhat laborious but congenial task of
preparing this work.
First of all, we were gratified and inspired by the kind reception accorded
our first literary venture, "The White Side of a Black Subject," which is
now out of print after reaching twelve editions. Added to this was the
still more generous treatment of our second production, "A New <DW64> for
a New Century." Nearly a hundred thousand copies of this book have been
sold up to date, and the demand is still increasing.
Having done what we could to vindicate the Afro-American, we next began to
consider the First American, when by chance a copy of Thatcher's "Indian
Biography" fell into our hands. We read this book with much interest, and
were impressed with two facts. First of all, we noticed that while the
author gave the lives of a few chiefs well known to this generation, he
filled the book up with village or sub chiefs, of whom even historians of
this age never heard. Then, too, the book in question was seventy-four
years old.
Thatcher's biography tended to create an appetite for that kind of
literature, and we inquired for other lives of noted Indians, but, strange
to say, could only hear of one other book devoted to that subject. This was
a small volume written by S. G. Goodrich, sixty-two years ago, and he
gave only short sketches of perhaps half a dozen Indians of the United
States, but the greater portion of the contents was devoted to the Indians
of Peru and Mexico.
We now concluded that if there were only two books giving the lives of
famous Indians, and both of these published so many years ago, there was
certainly room for another book on the subject, which should be confined to
the Indian tribes of the United States and cover their entire history from
Powhatan to the present time.
We trust we will not be misunderstood. We know that many Indian books have
been written since the date of those mentioned, but they were on "The
Indian Wars," "The Pioneer and the Indian," "The Winning of the West,"
"The Manners and Customs of the Indian," "Folklore Tradition and Legend,"
and many other phases of the question. We know that Pontiac, Brant, Red
Jacket, Tecumseh, Shabbona, Black Hawk, Sitting Bull, and perhaps others,
have had their lives written, but in each of these cases an entire book is
devoted to one Indian and his war. Our claim is that we have written the
only book giving in a condensed form the lives of practically all the most
famous Indian chiefs from the Colonial period to the present time.
Lest it be thought that we have an exaggerated idea of our people's
interest in the Indian, we will digress long enough to prove the statement
to our own satisfaction, and we trust also to that of the reader.
Mrs. Sigourney has well said with reference to this point
"Ye say they all have passed away,
That noble race and brave,
That their light canoes have vanished
From off the crested wave
That'mid the forests where they roamed
There rings no hunter's shout,
But their name is on your waters
Ye may not wash it out.
"Ye say their cone like cabins
That clustered o'er the vale
Have fled away like withered leaves
Before the autumn gale.
But their memory liveth on your hills,
Their baptism on your shore;
Your everlasting rivers speak
Their dialect of yore."
We have ventured to add a third verse
Ye say no lover wooes his maid,
No warrior leads his band.
All in forgotten graves are laid,
E'en great chiefs of the clan;
That where their council fires were lit
The shepherd tends his flock.
But their names are on your mountains
And survive the earthquake shock.
The mark of our contact with the Indian is upon us indelibly and forever.
He has not only impressed himself upon our geography, but on our character,
language and literature.
Bancroft, our greatest historian, is not quite right when he says, "The
memorials of their former existence are found only in the names of the
rivers and mountains." These memorials have not only permeated our poetry
and other literature, but they are perpetuated in much of the food we eat,
and every mention of potatoes, chocolate, cocoa, mush, green corn,
succotash, hominy and the festive turkey is a tribute to the red man, while
the fragrance of the tobacco or Indian weed we smoke is incense to their
memory.
On one occasion, according to Aesop, a man and a lion got into an argument
as to which of the two was the stronger, and thus contending they walked
together until they came to a statue representing a man choking and
subduing a lion. "There," exclaimed the man, "that proves my point, and
demonstrates that a man is stronger than a lion." To which the king of
beasts replied, "When the lions get to be sculptors, they will have the
lion choking and overcoming the man."
The Indians are neither sculptors, painters nor historians.
The only record we have of many of their noblest chiefs, greatest deeds,
hardest fought battles, or sublimest flights of eloquence, are the poor,
fragmentary accounts recorded and handed down by their implacable enemies,
the all-conquering whites.
It is hard indeed for one enemy to do another justice. The man with whom
you are engaged in a death struggle is not the man to write your history;
but such has been the historian of the Indian. His destroyer has covered
him up in an unmarked grave, and then written the story of his life.
Can any one believe that the Spaniards, cruel, hard-hearted and remorseless
as the grave, who swept whole nations from the earth, sparing neither men,
women nor children, could or would write a true story of their silent
victims?
Is it not reasonable to believe that had Philip, Pontiac, Cornstalk,
Tecumseh, Black Hawk or Chief Joseph been able to fling their burning
thoughts upon the historic page, it would have been very different from the
published account?
We believe that God will yet raise up an Indian of intellectual force and
fire enough to write a defense of his race to ring through the ages and
secure a just verdict from generations yet unborn.
In the preparation of this work we have honestly tried to do the subject
justice, and have endeavored to put ourself in the Indian's place, as much
as it is possible for a white man to do.
We have prosecuted the self-imposed task with enthusiasm and interest from
its inception to its completion. We fully agree with Bishop Whipple when he
said: "Our Indian wars were most of them needless and wicked. The North
American Indian is the noblest type of a heathen man on the earth. He
recognizes a Great Spirit; he believes in immortality; he has a quick
intellect; he is a clear thinker; he is brave and fearless, and until
betrayed, he is true to his plighted faith; he has a passionate love for
his children, and counts it joy to die for his people. Our most terrible
wars have been with the noblest types of the Indians, and with men who had
been the white man's friend. Nicolet said the Sioux were the finest type of
wild men he had ever seen. Old traders say it used to be the boast of the
Sioux that they had never taken the life of a white man. Lewis and Clark,
Governor Stevens and Colonel Steptoe bore testimony to the devoted
friendship of the Nez PercA(C) for the white man."
One evidence that our Indian wars were unnecessary is seen in the fact that
while our country has been constantly involved in them, Canada has not had
any; although our Government has spent for the Indians a hundred dollars to
their one.
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A QUEEN OF TEARS
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
THE LOVE OF
AN UNCROWNED QUEEN:
SOPHIE DOROTHEA, CONSORT OF GEORGE I.,
AND HER CORRESPONDENCE WITH PHILIP
CHRISTOPHER, COUNT KONIGSMARCK.
NEW AND REVISED EDITION.
_With 24 Portraits and Illustrations._
_8vo., 12s. 6d. net._
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.,
LONDON, NEW YORK AND BOMBAY.
[Illustration:
_Queen Matilda in the uniform of Colonel of the Holstein Regiment of
Guards._
_After the painting by Als, 1770._]
A QUEEN OF TEARS
CAROLINE MATILDA, QUEEN OF
DENMARK AND NORWAY AND
PRINCESS OF GREAT BRITAIN
AND IRELAND
BY
W. H. WILKINS
_M.A._, _F.S.A._
_Author of "The Love of an Uncrowned Queen," and
"Caroline the Illustrious, Queen Consort of George II."_
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1904
CONTENTS
PAGE
CONTENTS v
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS vii
CHAPTER I.
THE TURN OF THE TIDE 1
CHAPTER II.
THE GATHERING STORM 23
CHAPTER III.
THE MASKED BALL 45
CHAPTER IV.
THE PALACE REVOLUTION 63
CHAPTER V.
THE TRIUMPH OF THE QUEEN-DOWAGER 88
CHAPTER VI.
"A DAUGHTER OF ENGLAND" 110
CHAPTER VII.
THE IMPRISONED QUEEN 129
CHAPTER VIII.
THE DIVORCE OF THE QUEEN 149
CHAPTER IX.
THE TRIALS OF STRUENSEE AND BRANDT 177
CHAPTER X.
THE EXECUTIONS 196
CHAPTER XI.
THE RELEASE OF THE QUEEN 216
CHAPTER XII.
REFUGE AT CELLE 239
CHAPTER XIII.
THE RESTORATION PLOT 268
CHAPTER XIV.
THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN 295
CHAPTER XV.
RETRIBUTION 315
APPENDIX.
LIST OF AUTHORITIES 327
INDEX 331
CATALOG
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
QUEEN MATILDA IN THE UNIFORM OF COLONEL OF THE
HOLSTEIN REGIMENT OF GUARDS. (_Photogravure._)
_From a Painting by Als, 1770_ _Frontispiece_
THE ROSENBORG CASTLE, COPENHAGEN _Facing page_ 6
STRUENSEE. _From the Painting by Jens Juel, 1771, now
in the possession of Count Bille-Brahe_ " " 20
ENEVOLD BRANDT. _From a Miniature at Frederiksborg_ " " 38
QUEEN JULIANA MARIA, STEP-MOTHER OF CHRISTIAN VII.
_From the Painting by Clemens_ " " 54
KING CHRISTIAN VII.'S NOTE TO QUEEN MATILDA INFORMING
HER OF HER ARREST " " 74
THE ROOM IN WHICH QUEEN MATILDA WAS IMPRISONED
AT KRONBORG _Page_ 85
COUNT BERNSTORFF _Facing page_ 96
FREDERICK, HEREDITARY PRINCE OF DENMARK, STEP-BROTHER
OF CHRISTIAN VII. " " 108
THE COURTYARD OF THE CASTLE AT KRONBORG. _From
an Engraving_ " " 130
RÖSKILDE CATHEDRAL, WHERE THE KINGS AND QUEENS
OF DENMARK ARE BURIED " " 150
THE GREAT COURT OF FREDERIKSBORG PALACE. _From
a Painting by Heinrich Hansen_ " " 172
THE DOCKS, COPENHAGEN, _TEMP. 1770_ " " 184
THE MARKET PLACE AND TOWN HALL, COPENHAGEN,
_TEMP. 1770_ " " 184
STRUENSEE IN HIS DUNGEON. _From a Contemporary Print_ " " 198
SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH, K.C.B " " 218
A VIEW OF ELSINORE, SHOWING THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.
_From the Drawing by C. F. Christensen_ " " 234
THE CASTLE OF CELLE: THE APARTMENTS OF QUEEN
MATILDA WERE IN THE TOWER " " 246
QUEEN MAT
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