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Produced by Ted Garvin, Carol David and PG Distributed Proofreaders
[Illustration: "BRING THE CAMPHOR! BRING THE SMELLING SALTS!"]
SNUBBY NOSE
AND
TIPPY TOES
BY
LAURA ROUNTREE SMITH
1917, 1922
CONTENTS
SNUBBY NOSE AND TIPPY TOES
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
MORE COTTON TAIL STORIES
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
ILLUSTRATIONS
"'BRING THE CAMPHOR! BRING THE SMELLING SALTS!'"
"GRANDPA GRUMBLES HAD NOT SEEN DR. COTTONTAIL FOR TWO HUNDRED YEARS"
"TIPPY TOES WASHED THE DISHES"
"'MY NAME IS NOT SNUBBY NOSE'"
"HE WAS SWEEPING THE CHIMNEY WITH HIS LONG, BEAUTIFUL TAIL"
"THEY WERE SAILING AWAY WITH GRANDPA GRUMBLES"
"BUSHY-TAIL WENT SPLASH, DASH, INTO THE LAKE"
"'I WILL TUCK THEM IN MY SLEIGH'"
"SOON THE CIRCUS COTTON-TAILS CAME IN VIEW"
"BUNNY AND SUSAN WERE SITTING BY THE FIRE"
SNUBBY NOSE AND TIPPY TOES
CHAPTER I
Bunny and Susan Cotton-Tail sat by the fire one winter evening warming
their paws.
"What's that?" asked Bunny.
"What's that?" asked Susan.
They went to the window and saw a very little Bunny stuck fast in a
snowdrift.
"Help, help," cried Bunny, "I will get the snow-shovel."
"Help, help," cried Susan, "I will get the wheelbarrow."
Bunny and Susan went out to shovel the little Bunny out of the
snowdrift. Bunny said, "You dear little fellow, how did you get stuck
fast in the snowdrift?"
Susan looked hard over her spectacles and said, "Why, it is our own
dear grandchild, Snubby Nose."
Then Snubby Nose cried and he screamed and he howled! Bunny Cotton-Tail
shoveled as fast as he could, and in sixteen minutes he had Snubby Nose
out of the snowdrift. Susan put him in the wheelbarrow and wheeled him
to the house. All the time Snubby Nose cried and he screamed and he
howled!
Susan said, "Go and get the big tub and we will give Snubby Nose a hot
bath."
Bunny got the tub and some warm water and he and Susan gave Snubby Nose
a hot bath. They rubbed him dry with a soft towel, and all the time
Snubby Nose cried and he screamed and he howled!
Just at this very minute Grandpa Grumbles came in shaking the snow off
his fur and whiskers. He shook his green cotton umbrella. He came in
grumbling,
"It's noisy here, I do declare,
I just came out to take the air."
Snubby Nose stopped his noise and stared at Grandpa Grumbles. Bunny and
Susan said, "Sit down by the fire, Grandpa, and warm your paws."
Grandpa Grumbles sat down.
Snubby Nose cried, "Grandpa Grumbles, tell us a story, please tell us a
story."
Bunny Cotton-Tail said, in a whisper, "Please don't mention
_noses_."
Susan Cotton-Tail said, "Please don't mention _snowdrifts_."
Grandpa Grumbles was wet and cold, so he grumbled right out loud, "I
will tell about as many _noses_ and _snowdrifts_ as I please
in this story!" Then Snubby Nose cried and he screamed and he howled!
Susan took him up in her arms. She carried him to bed and sang him a
nonsense song. By and by Snubby Nose fell asleep. Susan went back
downstairs and found Grandpa Grumbles asleep by the fire.
Bunny said, "I wonder what makes him grumble so much?"
Susan said, "T wonder what happened to Snubby Nose. He has such a funny
little nose!"
_Then the most surprising thing happened!_
As they sat talking, "thump, bump" was heard, and Snubby Nose fell down
stairs! He fell right on his ugly little nose and broke it!
"Get the camphor! Get the smelling salts! Help, help!" cried Bunny and
Susan.
Grandpa Grumbles woke, up and cried,
"Someone has a sad mishap,
| 273.078701 | 1,300 |
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
German Problems and Personalities
BY
CHARLES SAROLEA
LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS
1917
_All rights reserved_
[Illustration: Charles Sarolea]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
I. AN AMERICAN PREFACE 7
II. MY FORECASTS OF 1906 AND 1912 12
III. THE CURSE OF THE HOHENZOLLERN 53
IV. THE GERMAN WAR-TRIUMVIRATE 85
(i.) Nietzsche.
(ii.) Montaigne and Nietzsche.
(iii.) Treitschke.
(iv.) Bernhardi.
V. FREDERICK THE GREAT 136
VI. THE APOTHEOSIS OF GOETHE 142
VII. THE SERVICE OF THE CITY IN GERMANY 148
VIII. THE NEGLECT OF GERMAN 159
IX. MECKLENBURG, THE PARADISE OF PRUSSIAN JUNKERTHUM 164
X. THE GERMAN RACE HERESY AND THE WAR 169
XI. A SLUMP IN GERMAN THEOLOGY 183
XII. THE GERMAN ENIGMA 189
XIII. THE TRAGIC ISOLATION OF GERMANY 196
XIV. RUSSIA AND GERMANY 203
XV. THE PEACEMAKER OF GERMANY: PRINCE VON BUeLOW 218
XVI. THE SILENCE OF HERR VON BETHMANN-HOLLWEG 226
XVII. THE COMING REVOLUTION IN GERMANY 231
XVIII. VIA PACIS 248
APPENDIX: THE PRIVATE MORALITY OF THE PRUSSIAN KINGS 255
GERMAN PROBLEMS AND PERSONALITIES
INTRODUCTION BY THE LITERARY EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK "TIMES"
Three years ago there was one man in Europe who had a political sight
so clear that his words then written seem to-day uncanny in their
wisdom.[1]
[1] One of the most eminent American theologians, Bishop
Brent, wrote in an article on "Speculation and Prophecy": "In
Dr. Sarolea's volume, 'The Anglo-German Problem,' published
in 1912, there is a power of precognition so startling that
one can understand a sceptic of the twenty-first century
raising serious doubts as to whether parts of it were not
late interpolation." Mr. Gilbert Keith Chesterton in his
"Crimes of England" applied to the "Anglo-German Problem" the
epithet "almost magical."
This man saw the present war; he saw that Belgium would be invaded by
Germany; he saw that the Germans hated England with a profound and
bitter hate; that German diplomatic blunders had placed that nation in
almost complete isolation in the world; that the Triple Alliance was
really only a Dual Alliance, popular feeling in Italy becoming
increasingly hostile to Austria and to Prussia; that Germans felt
their culture to be superior to the civilization of the rest of the
world, and themselves to be a superior race, with the right to rule
other peoples; that Prussianism and Junkerism and militarism were in
complete control of the German soul; that Germany had ambitions for
world empire, a recurrence of "the old Napoleonic dream"; that the
danger to European peace lay with Germany and not with England; that
Germans believed war to be essentially moral and the mainspring of
national progress; that the whole German people had become
Bismarckian; that the Germans hoped to obtain by a victory over
England that shadowless place in the sun toward which they began to
leap when they beat France in 1870.
The seer who thus saw is Dr. Charles Sarolea, who recently came to the
United States in the interests of his country, one of the most
distinguished of Belgian scholars, a friend of King Albert, holder of
Belgian decorations and honours from British learned societies, for
the last fourteen years Belgian Consul in Edinburgh, and for the last
twenty-one years head of the French and Romance Department at the
University of Edinburgh. His vision was set out in "The Anglo-German
Problem," written in 1912, now published in an authorized American
edition, perhaps the most accurate forecast which has been penned of
to-day's conflict, and certainly one of the most exact analyses of the
German nation | 273.092381 | 1,301 |
2023-11-16 18:20:20.3239240 | 4,100 | 48 |
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by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)
Transcriber's Note: Small spelling and punctuation errors have been
silently corrected. Spelling errors are listed at the end of the file.
Bold text is marked as =text=, and italics are _text_.
Complete in one Number. Price, 5 Cents.
[Illustration: NICKEL LIBRARY]
Entered according to Act of Congress by PICTORIAL PRINTING CO. In
the office of the Librarian at Washington. D. C., in the year 1877
SERIES ONE. CHICAGO. NUMBER 17
LITTLE OSKALOO,[A]
OR,
THE WHITE WHIRLWIND.
BY T. C. HARBAUGH.
[A] Changed from LITTLE MOCCASIN.
[Illustration: =THE TRAILERS OF THE FOREST.--See page 4.=]
CHAPTER I.
HISTORY AND A MYSTERY.
If, in the month of July, 1794, an observing white man could have
traveled unmolested from the banks of the Ohio river due north to the
famous Maumee rapids, he would have been struck with the wonderful
activity manifested in the various Indian villages on his route.
No signs of idleness would have greeted his eye; the young warrior did
not recline in the shadow of his birchen lodge enjoying the comforts of
summer life in mid forest. If his image was reflected in the clear
streams, it was but for a moment, as his lithe canoe shot from bank to
bank. Everything between the two rivers portended war.
Indian runners were constantly departing and arriving at the several
native villages, and excited groups of Shawnees, Delawares and Wyandots
discussed--not the latest deer trails nor the next moon-feast, but the
approaching contest for the mastery of power.
A few years had passed away since they had met and conquered Harmar and
St. Clair. Those bloody victories had rendered the Indian bold and
aggressive. He believed himself invincible, and pointed with pride to
the scalps taken on the ill-fated 4th of November, '91.
But a new foe had advanced from the south--treading in the tracks of St.
Clair's butchered troops, but with his stern eye fixed on victory. The
Indians were beginning to exhibit signs of alarm--signs first exhibited
at the British posts in the "Northwestern Territory," where the powers
and generalship of Wayne were known and acknowledged.
It was the impetuous, Mad Anthony who led the advancing columns through
the Ohio forests. He had entered the blood-drenched territory with the
victory of Stony Point to urge him on to nobler deeds, and with the firm
determination of punishing the tribes, as well as of avenging the defeat
of his predecessors.
Tidings of his advance spread like wildfire from village to village, and
councils became the order of day and night alike.
The Indians knew the Blacksnake, as they called Wayne, and some, in
their fear, counseled peace. But that was not to be thought of by the
chiefs and the young Hotspurs whose first scalps had been torn from the
heads of Butler's men.
Such sachems as Little Turtle, Blue Jacket, and Bockhougahelas stirred
the Indian heart, and not a few words of encouragement came from the
British forts on the Maumee.
Simon Girty and kindred spirits moved from tribe to tribe underrating
Wayne before the august councils, until a united cry of "war to the
knife!" ascended to the skies.
The chase suddenly lost its charms to the scarlet hunter; the dandy
turned from his mirror to the rifle; the very air seemed heavy with war.
The older warriors were eager to lay their plans before any one who
would listen; they said that Wayne would march with St. Clair's
carelessness, and affirmed that the order of Indian battle, so
successful on _that_ occasion, would drive the Blacksnake from the
territory.
Under the Indian banner--if the plume of Little Turtle can be thus
designated--the warriors of seven tribes were marshalling. There were
the Miamis, the Pottawatamies, Delawares, Shawnees, Chippewas, Ottawas,
and Senecas; and in the ranks of each nation stood not a few white
renegades.
It was a formidable force to oppose the victor of Stony Point, and the
reader of our forest romance will learn with what success the cabal met.
We have thought best to prelude our story with the glimpses at history
just given, as it enables the reader to obtain an idea of the situation
of affairs in the locality throughout which the incidents that follow
take place.
* * * * *
It was near the close of a sultry day in July, 1794, that two men
reached the right bank of the Maumee about ten miles below Fort
Defiance, which Wayne had erected and garrisoned.
They looked like Wyandot warriors, painted for the warpath. They were
athletic men, and one, as could be seen despite the profusion of paint
which his face wore, was at least twenty years the other's senior.
Long-barreled rifles were trailed at their sides, and their belts
carried the Indian's inseparable companions--the tomahawk and scalping
knife.
"There goes the sun," said the youngest of the pair in unmistakable and
melodious English. "Look at the old planet, Wolf Cap, if you want to see
him before he goes to bed. These are dangerous times, and one does not
know when the sun sets if he will be permitted to greet it in the
morning."
"That is so, Harvey," was the reply, in the brusque tone of the rough
frontiersman, and the speaker looked at the magnificent god of day whose
last streaks of light were crimsoning the water. "There was a time when
I didn't care if I never beheld the sun again. It was that night when I
came home and found no house to shelter me; but a dead family among a
heap of smoking ruins, and in a tree hard by a tomahawk buried to the
handle."
"You have told me," the younger said, as if to spare his companion the
pain of narrating the story of the Indian descent upon his cabin in
Kentucky.
"So I have, but I never grow weary of talking about it. It makes me
think of the revenge I have taken, and it nerves my arm anew. Boy," and
the speaker touched the youth's shoulder with much tenderness, "boy, I
was goin' to say that I hope the Indians will never do you such an
injury."
"I hope not, Wolf Cap; but I hate them all the same."
The frontiersman did not reply for a moment, but looked across the river
longingly and sad.
"Harvey," he said, suddenly starting up, "we have been separated for
four days. Have you heard of him?"
"Of----" the young scout hesitated.
"Of Jim Girty, of course."
"No; but we may obtain some news of him in a few moments."
"In a few moments? I do not understand you."
"I will tell you. I am here by appointment," said the youth. "In a few
moments I hope to meet a person who will give me valuable information
concerning the hostiles. She----"
"A woman?" interrupted the oldest scout. "Boy, you must not trust these
Indian girls too far."
"How do you know she is an Indian girl?" asked Harvey Catlett, starting.
"Because there are precious few white girls in these parts. Don't trust
her further than you can see her, Harvey. I would like to take a squint
at the dusky girl."
The youth was about replying when the dip of paddles fell upon his
practiced ears, and Wolf Cap started back from the water's edge, for he,
too, had caught the sound.
"Indians!" he said, and the click of his rifle was not heard six feet
away, but the youth's painted hand covered the flint.
"No enemy at any rate," he whispered, looking in the scout's face. "Stay
here till I return. It is Little Moccasin."
Without fear, but cautiously, Harvey Catlett, Wayne's youngest and
trustiest trailer, glided to the edge of the water, where he was joined
by a canoe containing a single person.
His giant companion rose, and, full of curiosity, tried to distinguish
the features of the canoe's occupant, who was met with a tender welcome
at the hands of the young scout.
But the sun had entirely set, and the couple formed dark silhouettes on
a ghostly background.
For many minutes the conversation continued at the boat, and the
impatient Wolf Cap at last began to creep forward as if upon a napping
foe.
"I want to get a glimpse at that girl," he was saying to his eager self.
"If I think she is soft soapin' the young feller, why, this shall be
their last meetin'."
The young couple did not suspect the scout's movements, and as he
crouched not twenty feet from the boat and within ear shot, he was
surprised to hear Catlett say:
"I'll let you go when I have shown you to my friend. He wants to see
you. Come, girl."
Wolf Cap saw a lithe, girlish figure slip nimbly from the canoe, and
when the youth turned his face toward the forest, as if to speak his
name, he rose.
"Here I am," he said. "Forgive me, boy, but I've been watchin' you.
Couldn't help it, as you talked so long. So this is Little Moccasin?"
As the border man uttered the euphonious title he stooped, for he was
almost unnaturally tall, and peered inquisitively into the girl's face.
It was a pretty face, oval and faultlessly formed. The skin was not so
dark as a warrior's, and the eyes were soft and full of depth. Wolf Cap
did not study the close-fitting garments, well beaded and fringed, nor
did he glance at the tiny, almost fairy-like moccasins which she wore.
It was the face that enchained his attention.
All at once his hand fell from Little Moccasin's shoulder, and he
started back, saying in a wild, incautious tone:
"Take that girl away, Harvey! For heaven's sake don't let her cross my
path again! And if you know what is good for yourself--for Wayne and his
army--you will keep out of her sight. Is she not goin'?"
The excited scout stepped forward with quivering nerves as he uttered
the last words.
"Yes, sir," said the youth quickly, but throwing himself between the
forest beauty and Wolf Cap. "She is going now."
"And will you promise never to see her again?"
"We'll talk about that at another time. Come."
The last word was addressed to Little Moccasin, upon whose face an
expression of wonderment rested, and Harvey Catlett led her to the
canoe.
For several minutes he held her hand, talking low and earnestly the
while, and then saw her send her light craft into the deep shadows that
hung over the water.
When the sound of her paddles had died away the young scout turned to
inquire into Wolf Cap's unaccountable conduct; but to his surprise the
rough borderman was not to be seen.
But Harvey Catlett was not long in catching the sound of receding
footsteps, and a moment later he was hurrying forward to overtake his
companion.
He soon came upon Wolf Cap walking deliberately through the forest, and
hastened to address him.
"Here you are! Wolf Cap, I want to know who Little Moccasin is."
The borderman did not stop to reply, but looked over his left shoulder
and said, sullenly:
"I don't know! Do you?"
Harvey Catlett was more than ever astonished; but a moment later, if it
had not been for the dangerous ground which they were treading, he would
have burst into a laugh.
CHAPTER II.
AN ERRAND OF MERCY.
Abner Stark, or Wolf Cap, was a man well known throughout Ohio and
Kentucky in the border days of which we write. Moody and sullen, but at
times possessed with a humor that seemed to reflect happier days; he was
cherished as a friend by the Wetzels, Boones, and Kentons of the early
west.
He had served as a scout under Harmar, St. Clair and Scott, and was
among the first to offer his valuable services to General Wayne.
It is needless to say that they were eagerly accepted, and in the
campaign of 1793 that witnessed the erection of forts Recovery and
Defiance, he had proved of great worth to the invaders.
Ten years prior to the date of our story the Shawnees, led by James
Girty, crossed the Ohio and fell like a pack of wolves upon Abner
Stark's Kentucky home.
The settler, as we have already heard him narrate to young Catlett, was
absent at the time, but returned to find his house in ashes, and the
butchered remains of his family among the ruins. He believed that all
had perished by the tomahawk and scalping knife.
By the hatchet buried in the tree which was wont to shade his home, he
recognized the leader of the murderous band. From the awful sight he
stepped upon the path of vengeance, and made his name a terror to the
Indians and their white allies.
His companion on the occasion described in the foregoing chapter, was a
young borderman who had distinguished himself in the unfortunate
campaign of '91. Handsome, cunning in woodcraft, and courageous to no
small degree, an expert swimmer and runner, Harvey Catlett united in
himself all the qualities requisite for the success of his calling. He
was trusted by Wayne, from whose camps he came and went at his pleasure,
questioned by no one, save at times, his friend Wolf Cap.
We have said that the singular reply given by Wolf Cap to the young
scout shortly after the meeting with Little Moccasin almost provoked a
laugh. The situation smacked of the ridiculous to the youthful borderer,
and the time and place alone prevented him from indulging his risibles.
But when he looked into the old scout's face and saw no humor there--saw
nothing save an unreadable countenance, his mirth subsided, and he
became serious again.
"We will not follow the subject further now," he said; "I want to talk
about something else--about something which I heard to-night."
His tone impressed Abner Stark, and he came to a halt.
"Well, go on, boy," he said, his hard countenance relaxing. "If you did
get any news out of _her_, tell it."
"The lives of some of our people are in danger," Catlett continued.
"Several days since a family named Merriweather embarked upon the Maumee
near its mouth. Their destination is Wayne's camp; they are flying to it
for protection."
"Straight into the jaws of death!"
"Yes, Wolf Cap. If they have not already fallen a prey to the savages,
they are struggling through the woods with their boats, which could not
stem the rapids."
"How many people are in the company?" Stark asked.
"Little Moccasin says eight."
"Women and children, of course?"
"Yes."
"And is this known by the Indians?"
"Unfortunately it is."
For a moment the avenger did not reply.
He appeared to be forming a plan for the safety of the imperilled
family, and the young scout watched him with much anxiety.
"I don't know the Merriweathers; never heard of them," Wolf Cap said,
looking up at last. "They are in great danger. There are women and
children among them. I had a family once. We must not desert the little
band that is trying to get behind Mad Anthony's bayonets. God forbid
that Abner Stark should refuse to protect the helpless from the
tomahawk."
"And here is one who is with you!" cried Harvey Catlett. "Let us go
now."
"Yes. We must not see Wayne before we have offered help to the
Merriweathers. Are we not near the tree?"
"Nearer than you think. Look yonder."
The speaker pointed to a tree whose great trunk was just discernible,
and the twain hastened toward it.
About six feet from the ground there was a hole large enough to admit a
medium sized hand, and Wolf Cap was not long in plunging his own into
its recesses.
He withdrew it a moment later with a show of disappointment.
"Nothin' from Wells and the same from Hummingbird," he said, turning to
Catlett.
"We are too soon, perhaps," was the answer.
"They will be here, then. We may need their assistance. Hummingbird or
Wells?"
"The first that comes."
"That will do. Write."
The young scout drew a small piece of paper from his bullet pouch, and
wrote thereon with a pointed stick of lead the following message:
"_To the first here_:
"We have gone down the Maumee to protect a white family flying
to Wayne. Follow us. No news."
The message was dropped in the forest letter box, and the disguised
scouts set out upon their errand of mercy and protection.
One behind the other, like the wily Indians whom they personated, they
traversed the forest, now catching a glimpse of the starlit waters of
the Maumee, and now wrapped in the gloom of impenetrable darkness.
Not a word was spoken. Now and then an ear was placed upon the earth to
detect the approach of an enemy should any be lurking near their path.
With the woodman's practiced care they gave forth no sound for listening
savages, and with eager hopes continued to press on.
The tree, with its silent call for help, was soon left behind, and the
scouts did not dream that the robber was near.
Not long after their departure from the spot, a figure halted at the
tree, and a dark hand dropped into the letter box. With almost devilish
eagerness the fingers closed upon the paper that lay at the bottom of
the hole, and drew it out.
"A paper at last," said the man in triumphant tones. "I knew I would
find it sometime."
The next moment the thief hurried towards the river with | 273.643334 | 1,302 |
2023-11-16 18:20:20.8038510 | 181 | 132 |
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and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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TYPOGRAPHIC TECHNICAL SERIES FOR APPRENTICES--PART VIII--NO. 49
BOOKS BEFORE
TYPOGRAPHY
A PRIMER _of_ INFORMATION ABOUT THE
INVENTION OF THE ALPHABET AND
THE HISTORY OF BOOK-MAKING
UP TO THE INVENTION OF
MOVABLE TYPES
BY
FREDERICK W. HAMILTON, LL.D.
EDUCATIONAL DIRECTOR
UNITED TYPOTHETAE OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED BY THE COMMITTEE ON EDUCATION
UNITED TYPOTHETAE OF AMERICA
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918
| 274.123261 | 1,303 |
2023-11-16 18:20:20.8727030 | 983 | 373 |
E-text prepared by Sonya Schermann, Larry B. Harrison, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 56400-h.htm or 56400-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/56400/56400-h/56400-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/56400/56400-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/memoirsofjohnabe00maciuoft
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
A carat character is used to denote superscription. A
single character following the carat is superscripted
(example: Sir Tho^s). Multiple superscripted characters
are enclosed by curly brackets (example: Y^{rs}).
MEMOIRS OF JOHN ABERNETHY.
[Illustration:
Sir Tho^s. Lawrence P.R.A. Cook.
Y^{rs}. most sincerely
John Abernethy]
MEMOIRS OF JOHN ABERNETHY,
With a View of His Lectures, His Writings, and Character;
with Additional Extracts from Original Documents,
Now First Published;
by
GEORGE MACILWAIN, F.R.C.S.
Author of "Medicine and Surgery One Inductive Science,"
&c. &c. &c.
"The evil that men do, lives after them:
The good is oft interred with their bones."
SHAKSPEARE.
Third Edition.
London:
Hatchard and Co. Piccadilly.
1856.
The Author reserves the right of publishing a Translation of this Work
in France.
London:
Printed by J. Mallett, Wardour Street.
TO THE MEMORY
OF
JOHN ABERNETHY,
THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED
BY
ONE OF HIS NUMEROUS
AND
GRATEFUL PUPILS,
THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE
TO
THE FIRST EDITION.
In submitting to the Public a Memoir of a great man, it may naturally
be expected that an author should endeavour to convey to them some idea
of the associations, or other circumstances, which have prompted the
undertaking.
My father practised on the borders of a forest; and when he was called
at night to visit a distant patient, it was the greatest treat to me,
then a little boy, to be allowed to saddle my pony and accompany him.
My father knew the forest nearly as well as his own garden; but still,
in passing bogs in impenetrable darkness, the more refined topography
of a forester would be necessary; and it was on one of these occasions
that I first heard two words, "Me-ward" and "Abernethy:" the one from
our forester guide, which I have never heard since, and the other
which I have heard more frequently perhaps than any. The idea I then
had of Abernethy was, that he was a great man who lived in London. The
next distinct impression I have of him was derived from hearing my
father say that a lady, who had gone up to London to have an operation
performed, had been sent by him to Mr. Abernethy, because my father
did not think the operation necessary or proper; that Mr. Abernethy
entirely agreed with him, and that the operation was not performed;
that the lady had returned home, and was getting well. I then found
that my father had studied under him, and his name became a sort of
household word in our family. Circumstances now occurred which occupied
my mind in a different direction, and for some years I thought no more
of Abernethy.
As long as Surgery meant riding across a forest with my father, I
thought it a very agreeable occupation; but when I found that it
included many other things, I soon discovered there was a profession
I liked much better. Some years had rolled away, when, one afternoon
in October, about the year 1816, somewhat to my own surprise, I found
myself, about two o'clock, walking down Holborn Hill, on my way to
Mr. Abernethy's opening lecture | 274.192113 | 1,304 |
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
LANAGAN
[Illustration: “TWO MORE SHOTS TORE THROUGH AND SPRAYED US WITH
SPLINTERS”]
LANAGAN
_AMATEUR DETECTIVE_
BY
EDWARD H. HURLBUT
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
FREDERIC DORR STEELE_
New York
STURGIS & WALTON
COMPANY
1913
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY
STURGIS & WALTON COMPANY
Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1913
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I WHITHER THOU GOEST 3
II THE PATHS OF JUDGMENT 31
III THE CONSPIRACY OF ONE 63
IV WHOM THE GODS DESTROY 93
V THE AMBASSADOR’S STICK-PIN 121
VI WHATSOEVER A MAN SOWETH 151
VII THE PENDELTON LEGACY 181
VIII AT THE END OF THE LONG NIGHT 209
IX THE DOMINANT STRAIN 235
X OUT OF THE DEPTHS 263
ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM DRAWINGS BY
FREDERICK DORR STEELE
“Two more shots tore through, and sprayed
us with splinters” _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
“Then Lanagan took his leisurely turn, drawing up an
easy chair” 96
“He lit a match” 260
“On the floor they placed the figure they bore, a stalwart
figure of a man” 280
LANAGAN
_AMATEUR DETECTIVE_
I
WHITHER THOU GOEST
I
WHITHER THOU GOEST
Jack Lanagan of the San Francisco _Enquirer_ was conceded to have
“arrived” as the premier police reporter of San Francisco. This honour
was his not solely through a series of brilliant newspaper feats in his
especial field, but as well by reason of an entente that permitted him
to call half the patrolmen on the force by their given names; enjoy the
confidences of detective sergeants, a close-mouthed brotherhood; dine
tête-à-tête in private at French restaurants with well-groomed police
captains on canvasback or quail out of season, and sit nonchalantly on
a corner of the chief’s desk and absent-mindedly smoke up the chief’s
two-bit cigars.
It was an intimacy that carried much of the lore of the force with it:
that vital knowledge not of books. Bill Dougherty on the “pawnbroker
detail” knew scarcely more “fences” than did Lanagan; Charley Hartley,
who handled the bunco detail, found himself nettled now and then when
Lanagan would pick him up casually at the ferry building and point out
some “worker” among the incoming rustics whom Hartley had not “made,”
and debonair Harry O’Brien, who spent his time among the banks, was
more than once rudely jarred when Lanagan would slip over on the front
page of the _Enquirer_ a defalcation that had been engaging O’Brien’s
attention for a week.
So it went with Lanagan; from the “bell hops” of big hotels, the bar
boys of clubs, down to the coldest-blooded unpenned felon of the
Barbary Coast who sold impossible whiskey with one hand and wielded a
blackjack with the other, the police sources were his.
Consequently Lanagan, having “arrived,” may be accorded a few more
liberties than the average reporter and permitted to spend a little
more time than they in poker in the back room at Fogarty’s, hard
by the Hall of Justice. Here, when times were dull, he could drift
occasionally to fraternise with a “shyster,” those buzzards of the
police courts and the city prisons who served Fogarty; or with one of
the police court prosecuting attorneys affiliated with the Fogarty
political machine, for Fogarty was popularly credited with having at
least two and possibly three of the police judges in his vest pocket.
Or he could rattle the dice with a police judge himself and get the
“inside” on a closed-door hearing or the latest complaint on | 274.274378 | 1,305 |
2023-11-16 18:20:21.1160500 | 406 | 81 |
E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/overshadowednove00grigrich
OVERSHADOWED.
A Novel.
by
SUTTON E. GRIGGS
Author of "Imperium in Imperio."
Nashville, Tenn.:
The Orion Publishing Co.
1901.
Copyrighted
Sutton E. Griggs
1901.
DEDICATION.
To the Memory of
ALBERTA,
Who, in the absence of this her oldest
brother, crossed over the dark stream, smiling
as she went, this volume is most
affectionately dedicated by
_THE AUTHOR._
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
The task assigned to the <DW64>s of the United States is unique in the
history of mankind.
He whose grandfather was a savage and whose father was a slave has been
bidden to participate in a highly complex civilization on terms of
equality with the most cultured, aggressive and virile type of all
times, the Anglo-Saxon.
The stupendous character of the task is apparent when it is called to
mind that the civilization in which they are to work out their
respective destinies is fitted to the nature of the Anglo-Saxon, because
he evolved it; while, on the other hand, the nature of the <DW64> _must
be fitted to the civilization_, thus necessitating the casting aside of
all that he had evolved.
This attempt on the part of the infant child of modern civilization to
keep pace with the hale and hearty parent thereof, has served to
contribute its quota of | 274.43546 | 1,306 |
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file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
PLISH AND PLUM
_By the Author of_
MAX AND MAURICE
Plish and Plum.
From the German
OF
WILHELM BUSCH,
AUTHOR OF "MAX AND MAURICE."
BY
CHARLES T. BROOKS.
BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1895.
_Copyright, 1882_,
BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
PLISH AND PLUM.
CHAPTER I.
With a pipe between his lips,
Two young dogs upon his hips,
Jogs along old Caspar Sly;
How that man can smoke,--oh, my!
But although the pipe-bowl glows
Red and hot beneath his nose;
Yet his heart is icy-cold;
How can earth such wretches hold!
"Of what earthly use to me
Can such brutes," he mutters, "be?
Do they earn their vittles? No!
'Tis high time I let 'em go.
What you don't want, fling away!
Them's my sentiments, I say!"
O'er the pond he silent bends,
For to drown them he intends.
With their legs the quadrupeds
Kick and squirm,--can't move their heads
And the inner voice speaks out:
How 't will end we gravely doubt.
_Hubs!_--an airy curve one makes;
_Plish!_--a headlong dive he takes.
Hubs!--the second follows suit;
_Plum!_--the wave engulfs the brute.
"That's well ended," Caspar cries,
Puffs away and homeward hies.
But, as often happens, here too
Things don't go as they appear to.
Paul and Peter,--so 'twas fated,--
Naked in the bushes waited
For a swim; and they descry
What was done by wicked Sly.
And like frogs they dove, _kechunk_,
Where the poor young dogs had sunk.
Quickly each one with his hand
Drags a little dog to land.
"Plish, I'll call my dog," cried Paul;
"Plum," said Peter, "mine I'll call."
Paul and Peter then with pleasure,
Tenderly took each his treasure,
And, with speed and joy past telling,
Steered for the parental dwelling.
CHAPTER II.
Papa Fittig, calm and cosy,
Mamma Fittig, round and rosy,
Arm in arm sit peaceful there--
Troubled by no speck of care--
On the bench before the door;
For the summer day is o'er,
And the supper hour is near,
And the lads will soon be here.
Soon they burst upon the view,
Plish and Plum are with them too.
Fittig thinks a dog a plague:
"Nah!" he cries,--"excuse, I beg!"
But mamma with soft looks pleaded:
"Let them, Fittig!"--and succeeded.
Evening milk, fresh and delicious,
On the table stood in dishes.
Joyfully they haste indoors;
Plish and Plum ahead, of course.
Mercy! look! right in the sweet
Cream each wretch has set his feet;
And the noise their lapping makes
Shows what comfort each one takes.
At the window peeps old Sly,
Chuckles loud and says: "My eye!
This is very bad, he! he!
Very bad, but not for me!!"
CHAPTER III.
When night came, all worn and tired,
As if nothing had transpired,
Paul and Peter in their chamber
Lay there, wrapt in peaceful slumber,
A soft snoring through their noses
Shows how tranquilly each dozes.
But not so with Plish and Plum!
They sit ill-at-ease and glum,
Not being lodged to suit their mind,
To turn in they too inclined.
Plish, the dog's old rule to follow,
Turns round thrice, his bed to hollow;
Plum, however, shows a mind
More affectionately inclined.
When we dream of perfect rest
Comes full many a troublous guest.
"March!" With this harsh word the pets.
Turn their outward summersets
Coolness wakes activity;
Time well-filled glides pleasantly.
Means of sport are handy too,
Here a stocking--there a shoe.
These, before the morning glow,
Curious changes undergo.
When he comes the boys to wake,
And beholds the frightful wreck,
Pale the father cries: "This will
Be a monstrous heavy bill!"
Vengeful claws are in the air;
Feigning sleep, the rogues lie there;
But the mother begs | 274.461214 | 1,307 |
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[Illustration: SAMMY MACHINE GUNS AND RIFLES MOWED THEM DOWN.
_The Khaki Boys at the Front._ _Page 127_]
THE KHAKI BOYS
AT THE FRONT
OR
_Shoulder to Shoulder in the Trenches_
By
CAPT. GORDON BATES
Author of "The Khaki Boys at Camp Sterling"
"The Khaki Boys on the Way," etc.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
C | 274.670005 | 1,308 |
2023-11-16 18:20:21.9963040 | 1,169 | 373 | LITERATURE***
E-text prepared by Andrea Ball & Marc D'Hooghe
(http://www.freeliterature.org) from page images generously made available
by Internet Archive (http://archive.org)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
http://archive.org/details/russiaitspeoplei00pardiala
RUSSIA
ITS PEOPLE AND ITS LITERATURE
BY
EMILIA PARDO BAZAN
Translated from the Spanish
By FANNY HALE GARDINER
CHICAGO
A.C. McCLURG & CO.
1901
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
Emilia Pardo Bazan, the author of the following critical survey of
Russian literature, is a Spanish woman of well-known literary
attainments as well as wealth and position. Her life has been spent in
association with men of mark, both during frequent sojourns at Madrid
and at home in Galicia, "the Switzerland of Spain," from which province
her father was a deputy to Cortes.
Books and libraries were almost her only pleasures in childhood, as she
was allowed few companions, and she says she could never apply herself
to music. By the time she was fourteen she had read widely in history,
sciences, poetry, and fiction, excepting the works of the French
romanticists, Dumas, George Sand, and Victor Hugo, which were forbidden
fruit and were finally obtained and enjoyed as such. At sixteen she
married and went to live in Madrid, where, amid the gayeties of the
capital, her love for literature suffered a long eclipse.
Her father was obliged, for political reasons, to leave the country
after the abdication of Amadeus, and she accompanied him in a long and
to her profitable period of wandering, during which she learned French,
English, and Italian, in order to read the literatures of those tongues.
She also plunged deep into German philosophy, at first out of curiosity,
because it was then in vogue; but she confesses a debt of gratitude to
it nevertheless.
While she was thus absorbed in foreign tongues and literatures, she
remained almost entirely ignorant of the new movement in her own land,
led by Valera, Galdos, and Alarcon. The prostration which characterized
the reign of Isabella II. had been followed by a rejuvenation born of
the Revolution of 1868. When this new literature was at last brought to
her notice, she read it with delighted surprise, and was immediately
struck by something resembling the spirit of Cervantes, Hurtado, and
other Spanish writers of old renown. Inspired by the possibility of this
heredity, she resolved to try novel-writing herself,--a thought which
had never occurred to her when her idea of the novel had been bounded by
the romantic limitations of Victor Hugo and his suite. But if the novel
might consist of descriptions of places and customs familiar to us, and
studies of the people we see about us, then she would dare attempt it.
As yet, however, no one talked of realism or naturalism in Spain; the
tendency of Spanish writers was rather toward a restoration of elegant
Castilian, and her own first novel followed this line, although
evidently inspired by the breath of realism as far as she was then aware
of it. The methods and objects of the French realists became fully
manifest to her shortly afterward; for, being in poor health, she went
to Vichy, where in hours of enforced leisure she read for the first time
Balzac, Flaubert, Goncourt, and Daudet. The result led her to see the
importance of their aims and the force of their art, to which she added
the idea that each country should cultivate its own tradition while
following the modern methods. These convictions she embodied first in a
prologue to her second novel, "A Wedding Journey," and then in a series
of articles published in the "Epoca" at Madrid, and afterward in Paris;
these she avers were the first echoes in Spain of the French realist
movement.
All of her novels have been influenced by the school of art to which she
has devoted her attention and criticism, and her study of which has well
qualified her for the essays contained in this volume. This work on
Russian literature was published in 1887, but prior to its appearance
in print the Senora de Bazan was invited to read selections from it
before the Ateneo de Madrid,--an honor never before extended to a woman,
I believe.
Few Spanish women are accustomed to speaking in public, and she thus
describes her own first attempt in 1885, when, during the festivities
attending the opening of the first railway between Madrid and Coruna,
the capital of her native province, she was asked to address a large
audience invited to honor the memory of a local poet:--
"Fearful of attempting so unusual a performance, as well as
doubtful of the ability to make my voice heard in a large
theatre, I took advantage of the presence of my friend
Emilio Castelar to read to him my discourse and confide to
him my fears. On the eve of the performance, Castelar,
ensconced in an arm-chair in my library, puzzled his brains
over the questions whether I should read standing or
sitting, whether I should hold my papers in my hand or no,
and | 275.315714 | 1,309 |
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domain material from the Google Print project.)
OSCAR WILDE
_An Idler's Impression_
BY
EDGAR SALTUS
[Illustration: Logo]
CHICAGO
BROTHERS OF THE BOOK
1917
COPYRIGHT 1917
BY
EDGAR SALTUS
* * * * *
Of this first edition of _Oscar Wilde: An Idler's Impression, by Edgar
Saltus_, there have been printed four hundred and seventy-four copies,
and the type distributed. No second edition will be made. The
autographed copies were all subscribed for before publication.
The edition consists of
49 copies on Inomachi vellum, in full binding, each copy
autographed by the author. Numbered from 1 to 49 inclusive.
100 copies on Inomachi vellum, in three-quarters binding.
Numbered from 50 to 149 inclusive.
325 copies on Fabriano hand-made paper, in boards. Numbered
from 150 to 474 inclusive.
This Copy is Number
* * * * *
_Oscar Wilde: An Idler's Impression_
OSCAR WILDE
Years ago, in a Paris club, one man said to another: "Well, what's
up?" The other shook a paper: "There is only one genius in England and
they have put him in jail."
One may wonder though whether it were their doing, or even Wilde's,
that put him there. One may wonder whether it were not the high fates
who so gratified him in order that, from his purgatory, he might rise
to a life more evolved. But that view is perhaps obvious. Wilde
himself, who was the least mystic of men, accepted it. In the "De
Profundis," after weighing his disasters, he said: "Of these things I
am not yet worthy."
The genuflexion has been called a pose. It may have been. Even so, it
is perhaps better to kneel, though it be in the gallery, than to stoop
at nothing, and Wilde, who had stood very high, bent very low. He saw
that there is one thing greater than greatness and that is humility.
Yet though he saw it, it is presumable that he forgot it. It is
presumable that the grace which was his in prison departed in Paris.
On the other hand it may not have. There are no human scales for any
soul.
It was at Delmonico's, shortly after he told our local Customs that he
had nothing to declare but genius, that I first met him. He was
dressed like a mountebank. Without, at the entrance, a crowd had
collected. In the restaurant people stood up and stared. Wilde was
beautifully unmoved. He was talking, at first about nothing whatever,
which is always an interesting topic, then about "Vera," a play of his
for which a local manager had offered him an advance, five thousand
dollars I think, "mere starvation wages," as he put it, and he went on
to say that the manager wanted him to make certain changes in it. He
paused and added: "But who am I to tamper with a masterpiece?"--a
jest which afterward he was too generous to hoard.
Later, in London, I saw him again. In appearance and mode of life he
had become entirely conventional. The long hair, the knee-breeches,
the lilies, the velvet, all the mountebank trappings had gone. He was
married, he was a father, and in his house in Tite street he seemed a
bit bourgeois. Of that he may have been conscious. I remember one of
his children running and calling at him: "My good papa!" and I
remember Wilde patting the boy and saying: "Don't call me that, it
sounds so respectable."
In Tite street I had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Oscar, who asked me
to write something in an album. I have always hated albumenous poetry
and, as I turned the pages in search of possible inspiration, I
happened on this: _From a poet to a poem. Robert Browning._
Poets exaggerate and why should they not? They have been found, too,
with their hands in other people's paragraphs. Wilde helped himself to
that line which he put in a sonnet to this lady, who had blue eyes,
fair hair, ch | 275.400431 | 1,310 |
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Produced by Ron Swanson
[Frontispiece: ODYSSEUS AS A YOUTH AT HOME WITH HIS MOTHER]
ODYSSEUS
THE HERO OF ITHACA
ADAPTED FROM THE THIRD BOOK OF THE PRIMARY SCHOOLS OF ATHENS, GREECE
BY
MARY E. BURT
_Author of "Literary Landmarks," "Stories from Plato," "Story of the
German Iliad," "The Child-Life Reading Study"; Editor of "Little
Nature Studies"; Teacher in the John A. Browning School, New York
City_
AND
ZENAIDE A. RAGOZIN
_Author of "The Story of Chaldea," "The Story of Assyria," "The Story
of Media, Babylon, and Persia," "The Story of Vedic India"; Member
of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, of the
American Oriental Society, of the Societe Ethnologique of Paris,
etc._
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON
COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Printed in the United States of America
To
THE TEACHER
WHOSE INTEGRITY AND PEDAGOGICAL SPIRIT
HAVE CREATED A SCHOOL WHEREIN THE IDEAL MAY
PROVE ITSELF THE PRACTICAL
AND
THOSE ENTHUSIASTIC PUPILS
WHO LOVE THE LOYALTY AND BRAVERY OF ODYSSEUS
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION.......................... xiii
PART I
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE LIFE OF THE HERO, ODYSSEUS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. About Troy and the Journey of Paris to Greece..... 3
II. The Flight of Helen.................. 6
III. The Greeks Sail for Troy ............... 10
IV. The Fall of Troy ................... 13
PART II
THE RETURN OF ODYSSEUS TO HIS OWN COUNTRY
CHAPTER PAGE
V. Odysseus on the Island of Calypso........... 21
VI. Odysseus Constructs a Raft and Leaves the Island ... 25
VII. Odysseus is Saved on the Island of Scheria ...... 29
VIII. Nausicaa is Sent to the River by Athena........ 31
IX. Odysseus Arrives at the Palace of Alkinoos ...... 38
X. Odysseus in the Halls of Alkinoos........... 42
XI. The Banquet in Honor of Odysseus ........... 47
XII. Odysseus Relates His Adventures............ 54
XIII. The Lotus-Eaters and the Cyclops ........... 57
XIV. The Cave of the Cyclops................ 60
XV. The Blinding of the Cyclops.............. 64
XVI. Odysseus and His Companions Leave the Land of the
Cyclops....................... 67
XVII. The Adventures of Odysseus on the Island of AEolus .. 72
XVIII. Odysseus at the Home of Cir | 275.456905 | 1,311 |
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MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING
ADVENTURE
MOTOR
FICTION
NO. 16
JUNE 12, 1909
FIVE
CENTS
MOTOR MATT'S
QUEST
_OR_ THREE CHUMS
IN STRANGE WATERS
_By THE AUTHOR OF "MOTOR MATT"_
[Illustration: _"HELUP, OR I VAS A GONER!" YELLED CARL,
LEAPING INTO THE WATER AS MOTOR MATT
MADE READY TO HURL THE HARPOON._]
_STREET & SMITH,
PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK_
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to
Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y._
No. 16. NEW YORK, June 12, 1909. Price Five Cents.
Motor Matt's Quest;
OR,
THREE CHUMS IN STRANGE WATERS.
By the author of "MOTOR MATT."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. IN THE DEPTHS.
CHAPTER II. OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH.
CHAPTER III. THE SEALED ORDERS.
CHAPTER IV. THE AMERICAN CONSUL.
CHAPTER V. MOTOR MATT'S FORBEARANCE.
CHAPTER VI. "ON THE JUMP."
CHAPTER VII. THE LANDING PARTY.
CHAPTER VIII. CARL IN TROUBLE.
CHAPTER IX. A FRIEND IN NEED.
CHAPTER X. STRANGE REVELATIONS.
CHAPTER XI. ONE CHANCE IN TEN.
CHAPTER XII. BY A NARROW MARGIN.
CHAPTER XIII. WAITING FOR SOMETHING TO HAPPEN.
CHAPTER XIV. MOTOR MATT'S GREAT PLAY.
CHAPTER XV. ON THE WAY TO BELIZE.
CHAPTER XVI. A DASH OF TABASCO.
Mischievous Ned.
TERRIBLE FATE OF A DARING INDIAN.
STUMBLING UPON GOLD MINES.
YEAR OF THE COCK.
CHARACTERS THAT APPEAR IN THIS STORY.
=Motor Matt=, a lad who is at home with every variety of motor, and
whose never-failing nerve serves to carry him through difficulties
that would daunt any ordinary young fellow. Because of his daring
as a racer with bicycle, motor-cycle and automobile he is known as
"Mile-a-minute Matt." Motor-boats, air ships and submarines come
naturally in his line, and consequently he lives in an atmosphere of
adventure in following up his "hobby."
=Dick Ferral=, a young sea dog from Canada, with all a sailor's
superstitions, but in spite of all that a royal chum, ready to stand
by the friend of his choice through thick and thin.
=Carl Pretzel=, a cheerful and rollicking German boy, stout of frame
as well as of heart, who is led by a fortunate accident to link his
fortunes with those of Motor Matt.
=Hays Jordan=, United States consul at Belize. A man of pluck and
determination, who furnishes valuable information about his friend,
Jeremiah Coleman, and even more valuable personal services during the
rescue of Coleman.
=Jeremiah Coleman=, another United States consul who has been
spirited away by Central American revolutionists in the hope of
driving a sharp bargain with the United States Government for the
release of a captured filibuster named James Sixty.
=Tirzal=, a half-breed mahogany-cutter who serves Jordan in the
capacity of spy, and who has been a pilot along the coast.
=Speake, Gaines and Clackett=, part of the crew of the _Grampus_.
=Cassidy=, mate of the _Grampus_ who, because of a fancied grievance,
takes the wrong trail at the forks of the road. An old friend whom
Matt found to be an enemy and then made a friend again.
=Abner Fingal=, skipper of the notorious schooner, _North Star_, and
brother of James Sixty, to whose evil nature Motor Matt owes most of
his present troubles.
=Captain Nemo, Jr.=, skipper of the submarine, _Grampus_, and who
falls victim to a sudden illness. Because of the captain's sickness,
Matt is placed in command of the _Grampus_.
=Ysabel Sixty=, an old acquaintance who plays an important part in
the story.
CHAPTER I.
IN THE DEPTHS.
"Motor Matt!"
"What is it, captain?"
"We are in St. George's Bay, ten miles from the Port of Belize, | 275.458528 | 1,312 |
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Produced by Richard Adicks
DRAMATIC ROMANCES
FROM THE POETIC WORKS OF ROBERT BROWNING
By Robert Browning
Introduction and Notes: Charlotte Porter and Helen A. Clarke
From the edition of Browning's poems published by Thomas Y. Crowell and
Company, New York, in 1898.
Editing conventions:
Stanza and section numbers have been moved to the left margin, and
periods that follow them have been removed.
Periods have been omitted after Roman numerals in the titles of popes
and nobles.
Quotation marks have been left only at the beginning and end of a
multi-line quotation, and at the beginning of each stanza within the
quotation, instead of at the beginning of every line, as in the printed
text.
CONTENTS
Introduction
Incident of the French Camp
The Patriot
My Last Duchess
Count Gismond
The Boy and the Angel
Instans Tyrannus
Mesmerism
The Glove
Time's Revenges
The Italian in England
The Englishman in Italy
In a Gondola
Waring
The Twins
A Light Woman
The Last Ride Together
The Pied Piper of Hamelin: A Child's Story
The Flight of the Duchess
A Grammarian's Funeral
The Heretic's Tragedy
Holy-Cross Day
Protus
The Statue and the Bust
Porphyria's Lover
"Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came"
INTRODUCTION
[The Dramatic Romances,...] enriched by some of the poems originally
printed in Men and Women, and a few from Dramatic Lyrics as first
printed, include some of Browning's finest and most characteristic work.
In several of them the poet displays his familiarity with the life and
spirit of the Renaissance--a period portrayed by him with a fidelity
more real than history--for he enters into the feelings that give rise
to action, while the historian is busied only with the results growing
out of the moving force of feeling.
The egotism of the Ferrara husband outraged at the gentle wife because
she is as gracious toward those who rendered her small courtesies,
and seemed as thankful to them as she was to him for his gift of a
nine-hundred-years-old name, opens up for inspection the heart of a
husband at a time when men exercised complete control over their wives,
and could satisfy their jealous, selfish instincts by any cruel methods
they chose to adopt, with no one to say them "nay." The highly developed
artistic sense shown by this husband is not incompatible with his
consummate selfishness and cruelty, as many tales of that time might be
brought forward to illustrate. The husband in "The Statue and the Bust"
belongs to the same type, and the situation there is the inevitable
outcome of a civilization in which women were not consulted as to whom
they would marry, and naturally often fell a prey to love if it should
come to them afterwards. Weakness of will in the case of the lovers in
this poem wrecked their lives; for they were not strong enough to follow
either duty or love. Another glimpse is caught of this period when
husbands and brothers and fathers meted out what they considered justice
to the women in "In a Gondola." "The Grammarian's Funeral" gives also
an aspect of Renaissance life--the fervor for learning characteristic
of the earlier days of the Renaissance when devoted pedants, as Arthur
Symons says in referring to this poem, broke ground in the restoration
to the modern world of the civilization and learning of ancient Greece
and Rome. Again, "The Heretic's Tragedy" and "Holy-Cross Day" picture
most vividly the methods resorted to by the dying church in its attempts
to keep control of the souls of a humanity seething toward religious
tolerance.
With only a small space at command, it is difficult to decide on the
poems to be touched upon, especially where there is not one but would
repay prolonged attention, due no less to the romantic interest of the
stories, the marvellous penetration into human motives, the grasp of
historical atmospheres, than to the originality and perfection of their
artistry.
A word must be said of "The Flight of the Duchess" and "Childe Roland
to the Dark Tower Came," both poems which have been productive of many
commentaries, and both holding their own amid the bray [sic] of critics
as unique and beautiful specimens of poetic art. Certainly no two poems
could be chosen to show wider diversity in the poet's genius than these.
The story told by the huntsman in "The Flight of the Duchess" is
interesting enough simply as a story, but the telling of it is
inimitable. One can see before him the devoted, kindly man,
somewhat clumsy of speech, as indicated by the rough rhymes, and
characteristically drawing his illustrations from the calling he
follows. Keen in his critical observation of the Duke and other members
of the household, he, nevertheless, has a tender appreciation of
the difficulties of the young Duchess in this unloving artificial
environment.
When the Gypsy Queen sings her song through his | 275.493864 | 1,313 |
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E-text prepared by Chuck Greif, Jeannie Howse, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by the Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
the the Google Books Library Project. See
http://books.google.com/books?vid=cwsRAAAAIAAJ&id
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has |
| been preserved. |
| |
| Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For |
| a complete list, please see the end of this document. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
A SYNOPSIS OF JEWISH HISTORY
From the Return of the Jews from the Babylonish Captivity,
to the Days of Herod The Great;
Giving an account of the different Sects of those days; the
introduction and use of Synagogues and Schools; the origin and
introduction of Prayer among the Jews; the Ureem and Thumeem;
the Mishna or Oral Law; the Gemara-Completion, usually styled
the Talmud.
by
REV. H. A. HENRY,
Rabbi Preacher of Congregation Sherith Israel, San Francisco;
Author of Class Book for Jewish youth; of Discourses on the
principles of the belief of Israel, &c., &c.
San Francisco:
Towne & Bacon, Publishers and Printers,
No. 125 Clay Street, corner Sansome.
1859.
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year of the World
5619,--1859, by Towne & Bacon,
for the Author, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of
the United States, for the Northern District of California.
PREFACE.
The design and purpose of this little production will, at a cursory
glance, be self-evident, so that a formal preface seems scarcely
necessary. We have endeavored to furnish a synopsis of useful
information, selected from the history and teachings of the chosen
people of God, in such a manner as to suit the capacity of all
readers, since it is free from all sectarian bias, and therefore may
prove useful to all denominations.
This work consists of two parts. The first part contains a synopsis of
Jewish history, commencing with the return of the Jews from the
Babylonish captivity, down to the days of Herod the Great. The second
division of the work contains an account of the several sects which
sprang up among the Jews before and after the days of the Maccabees.
We have also given a succinct description of the origin and
introduction of Prayer, of the synagogues and schools, of the Ureem
and Thumeem, of the Mishna or Oral Law, of the Gemara or Completion,
usually styled the Talmud, together with some additional remarks in
the last two chapters under the head of appendix.
Should this unassuming little composition lead the reader to seek a
more extended information on the subjects treated, we shall feel
ourselves happy in having been the means of thus exciting the
curiosity of those who desire to peep a little further into the vast
field of sacred literature, and deem our compensation to be fully
realized.
We have compiled in some instances from the writings of others. In
many cases we have also thought for ourselves; but at the same time,
we have embraced the advantages afforded by the writings of others, so
far as we thought them suitable for the undertaking.
In conclusion, we send this work out to the world, such as it is,
aware of its many deficiencies; trusting, at the same time, that
whatever errors may have crept therein will be pointed out by kind
friends, in order to a rectification of the same.
SAN FRANCISCO, February, 1859--5619.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE.
Of the return of the Jews from the Captivity of Babylon,
and the rebuilding of the City of Jerusalem and the Holy
Temple 9
CHAPTER II.
Of the state of the Jews in the days of Ezra the Scribe 15
CHAPTER III.
Of the affairs of the Jewish Nation during the days of
Nehemiah 23
CHAPTER IV.
Of the state of the Jewish Nation under the Persian and
the Grecian Monarchies 37
CHAPTER V.
Of the affairs of the Jewish Nation under Ptolemy Soter,
Ptolemy Philadelphus and Ptolemy Philopater, Kings of Egypt 43
CHAPTER VI.
Of the Jewish affairs under Antiochus the Greek, Seleucus,
and Antiochus Epiphanes, Kings of Syria 48
CHAPTER VII.
Of the state of the Jewish Nation in the days of Mattathias
the Priest, the father of the valiant Maccabees 55
CHAPTER VIII.
The Government of the Jewish Nation under the Maccabees, or
as they were otherwise called, the Asmoneans, this being
the family name 62
CHAPTER IX.
Of the Jewish affairs | 275.587919 | 1,314 |
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Produced by Anthony Matonac and Paul Selkirk
THE PATCHWORK GIRL OF OZ
by
L. FRANK BAUM
Affectionately Dedicated to my young friend
Sumner Hamilton Britton of Chicago
Prologue
Through the kindness of Dorothy Gale of Kansas, afterward Princess
Dorothy of Oz, an humble writer in the United States of America was
once appointed Royal Historian of Oz, with the privilege of writing the
chronicle of that wonderful fairyland. But after making six books about
the adventures of those interesting but queer people who live in the
Land of Oz, the Historian learned with sorrow that by an edict of the
Supreme Ruler, Ozma of Oz, her country would thereafter be rendered
invisible to all who lived outside its borders and that all
communication with Oz would, in the future, be cut off.
The children who had learned to look for the books about Oz and who
loved the stories about the gay and happy people inhabiting that
favored country, were as sorry as their Historian that there would be
no more books of Oz stories. They wrote many letters asking if the
Historian did not know of some adventures to write about that had
happened before the Land of Oz was shut out from all the rest of the
world. But he did not know of any. Finally one of the children inquired
why we couldn't hear from Princess Dorothy by wireless telegraph, which
would enable her to communicate to the Historian whatever happened in
the far-off Land of Oz without his seeing her, or even knowing just
where Oz is.
That seemed a good idea; so the Historian rigged up a high tower in his
back yard, and took lessons in wireless telegraphy until he understood
it, and then began to call "Princess Dorothy of Oz" by sending messages
into the air.
Now, it wasn't likely that Dorothy would be looking for wireless
messages or would heed the call; but one thing the Historian was sure
of, and that was that the powerful Sorceress, Glinda, would know what
he was doing and that he desired to communicate with Dorothy. For
Glinda has a big book in which is recorded every event that takes place
anywhere in the world, just the moment that it happens, and so of
course the book would tell her about the wireless message.
And that was the way Dorothy heard that the Historian wanted to speak
with her, and there was a Shaggy Man in the Land of Oz who knew how to
telegraph a wireless reply. The result was that the Historian begged so
hard to be told the latest news of Oz, so that he could write it down
for the children to read, that Dorothy asked permission of Ozma and
Ozma graciously consented.
That is why, after two long years of waiting, another Oz story is now
presented to the children of America. This would not have been possible
had not some clever man invented the "wireless" and an equally clever
child suggested the idea of reaching the mysterious Land of Oz by its
means.
L. Frank Baum.
"OZCOT"
at Hollywood
in California
LIST OF CHAPTERS
1 - Ojo and Unc Nunkie
2 - The Crooked Magician
3 - The Patchwork Girl
4 - The Glass Cat
5 - A Terrible Accident
6 - The Journey
7 - The Troublesome Phonograph
8 - The Foolish Owl and the Wise Donkey
9 - They Meet the Woozy
10 - Shaggy Man to the Rescue
11 - A Good Friend
12 - The Giant Porcupine
13 - Scraps and the Scarecrow
14 - Ojo Breaks the Law
15 - Ozma's Prisoner
16 - Princess Dorothy
17 - Ozma and Her Friends
18 - Ojo is Forgiven
19 - Trouble with the Tottenhots
20 - The Captive Yoop
21 - Hip Hopper the Champion
22 - The Joking Horners
23 - Peace is Declared
24 - Ojo Finds the Dark Well
25 - They Bribe the Lazy Quadling
26 - The Trick River
27 - The Tin Woodman Objects
28 - The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
The Patchwork Girl of Oz
Chapter One
Ojo and Unc Nunkie
"Where's the butter, Unc Nunkie?" asked Ojo.
Unc looked out of the window and stroked his long beard. Then he turned
to the Munchkin boy and shook his head.
"Isn't," said he.
"Isn't any butter? That's too bad, Unc. Where's the jam then?" inquired
Ojo, standing on a stool so he could look through all the shelves of
the cupboard. But Unc Nunkie shook his head again.
"Gone," he said.
"No jam, either? And no cake--no jelly--no apples--nothing but bread?"
"All," said Unc, again stroking his beard as he gazed from the window.
The little boy brought the stool and sat beside his uncle, munching the
dry bread slowly and seeming in deep thought.
"Nothing grows in our yard but the bread tree," he mused, "and there
are only two more loaves on | 275.665176 | 1,315 |
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Produced by David Widger
DOMINIE DEAN
A Novel
By Ellis Parker Butler
1917
Fleming And Revell Company
My Dear Mr. Dare:
That day when you came to my home and suggested that I write the book to
which I now gratefully prefix this brief dedication, I little imagined
how real David Dean would become to me. I have just written the
last page of his story and I feel less that he is a creature of my
imagination than that he is someone I have known and loved all my life.
It was because there are many such men as David Dean, big of heart
and great in spirit, that you suggested the writing and helped me with
incident and inspiration. Your hope was that the story might aid those
who regret that such men as David Dean can be neglected and cast aside
after lives spent in faithful service, and who are working to prevent
such tragedies; my desire was to tell as truthfully as possible the
story of one such man.
While I have had a free hand in developing the character of David Dean,
I most gratefully acknowledge that the suggestion of the idea, and the
inspiration, were yours, and I hope I have not misused them.
Most sincerely,
Ellis Parker Butler
Flushing, N. Y.
I. 'THUSIA
[Illustration: 'Thusia 018]
DAVID DEAN caught his first glimpse of 'Thusia Fragg from the deck of
the "Mary K" steamboat at the moment when--a fledgling minister--he
ended his long voyage down the Ohio and up the Mississippi and was ready
to step on Riverbank soil for the first time.
From mid-river, as the steamer approached, the town had seemed but a
fringe of buildings at the foot of densely foliaged hills with here
and there a house showing through the green and with one or two church
spires rising above the trees. Then the warehouse shut off the view
while the "Mary K" made an unsensational landing, bumping against the
projecting piles, bells jingling in her interior, paddle wheels noisily
reversing and revolving again and the mate swearing at the top of
his voice. As the bow of the steamer pushed beyond the warehouse, the
sordidly ugly riverfront of the town came into view again--mud, sand,
weather-beaten frame buildings--while on the sandy levee at the side
of the warehouse lounged the twenty or thirty male citizens in shirt
sleeves who had come down to see the arrival of the steamer. From the
saloon deck they watched the steamer push her nose beyond the blank red
wall of the warehouse. Against the rail stood all the boat's passengers
and at David's side the friend he had made on the voyage up the river,
a rough, tobacco-chewing itinerant preacher, uncouth enough but wise in
his day and generation.
"Well, this is your Riverbank," he said. "Here ye are. Now, hold on!
Don't be in a hurry. There's your reception committee, I'll warrant
ye,--them three with their coats on. Don't get excited. Let 'em wait
and worry a minute for fear you've not come. Keep an even mind under
all circumstances, as your motter says--that's the idee. Let 'em wait.
They'll think all the better of ye, brother. Keep an even mind, hey?
You'll need one with that mastiff-jowled old elder yonder. He's going to
be your trouble-man."
David put down the carpetbag he had taken up. Of the three men warranted
to be his reception committee he recognized but one, Lawyer Hoskins, the
man who while East had heard David preach and had extended to him the
church's call. Now Hoskins recognized David and raised his hand in
greeting. It was at this moment that 'Thusia Fragg issued from the side
door of the warehouse, two girl companions with her, and faced toward
the steamboat. In the general gray of the day she was like a splash of
sunshine and her companions were hardly less vivid. 'Thusia Fragg was
arrayed in a dress that echoed the boldest style set forth by "Godey's
Ladies' Book" for that year of grace, 1860---a summer silk of gray and
gold stripes, flounced and frilled and raffled and fringed--and on her
head perched a hat that was sauciness incarnate. She was overdressed by
any rule you chose. She was overdressed for Riverbank and overdressed
for her father's income and for her own position, but she was a
beautiful picture | 275.673286 | 1,316 |
2023-11-16 18:20:22.4502420 | 1,203 | 421 |
Produced by sp1nd and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
_June 1866._
[Illustration]
Works Published
BY
HATCHARD AND CO.
Booksellers to H.R.H. the Princess of Wales,
187 PICCADILLY, LONDON, W.
Messrs. HATCHARD & Co.
BOOKSELLERS TO H.R.H. THE PRINCESS OF WALES,
_Respectfully invite an Inspection of their Stock, which
consists of one of the Largest Assortments in London of_
Religious Works, Illustrated Books for the Table, Juvenile Books,
Standard Works, and Books of Reference,
In every variety of Morocco, Calf, and Cloth Bindings.
Also of Bibles, Prayer-Books, and Church Services,
Of the best quality, and in the newest styles.
A Liberal Discount for Cash.
_THE LARGEST TYPE MORNING AND EVENING CHURCH SERVICE
IN SEPARATE VOLUMES._
Just published,
A NEW EDITION OF THE HON. CHARLOTTE GRIMSTON'S
Arrangement of the Common Prayer and Lessons,
In 2 vols. 12mo. morocco plain, 25_s._; best morocco plain, 30_s._;
extra or antique, 35_s._
Also in various ornamental bindings, in cases suitable for Christmas
or Wedding Presents, from 2 to 7 guineas.
A NEW CHRISTENING PRESENT.
_THE SPONSORS' BIBLE_,
A Portable Volume, with a Clear Type, an Illuminated Title-page,
and Presentation Fly-leaf, handsomely bound in antique morocco,
price 21_s._; with massive clasp, 25_s._
LONDON: HATCHARD AND CO. 187 PICCADILLY,
Booksellers to H.R.H. the Princess of Wales.
A Change and Many a Change. Fcap. cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._
"A little tale with a moral and religious bearing, showing how
the sorrows and struggles of Fanny Powell, the daughter of a Welsh
clergyman, served to develope her spiritual nature, and to make
her the beloved of all."--_London Review._
=ANDERSON, Rev. R.=--A Practical Exposition of the Gospel of St. John.
By the late Rev. ROBERT ANDERSON, Perpetual Curate of Trinity Chapel,
Brighton. 2 vols. 12mo. cloth, 14_s._
---- Ten Discourses on the Communion Office of the Church of England.
With an Appendix. Second Edition. 12mo. cloth, 7_s._
=ANDREWES, Bishop.=--Selections from the Sermons of LANCELOT ANDREWES,
sometime Lord Bishop of Winchester, with a Preface by the Venerable the
ARCHDEACON OF SURREY. Fcap. cloth, 3_s._
=ANLEY, Miss C.=--Earlswood: a Tale for the Times. By CHARLOTTE ANLEY.
Second Thousand. Fcap. cloth, 5_s._
"A pleasing and gracefully written tale, detailing the process by
which persons of piety are sometimes perverted to Romish
error."--_English Review._
"This tale is singularly well conceived."--_Evangelical Magazine._
"We can recommend it with confidence."--_Christian Times._
---- Miriam; or, the Power of Truth. A Jewish Tale. Tenth Edition, with
a Portrait. Fcap. cloth, 6_s._
=BACON, Rev. H. B.=--Lectures for the Use of Sick Persons. By the Rev.
H. B. BACON, M.A. Fcap. cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._
"The Lectures possess two very great recommendations. First,--they
are brief, concise, and to the point; and secondly,--the language
is plain, free from ambiguity, and scriptural. * * * It may be very
profitably meditated upon by the sick; and young clergymen will not
lay it down after perusal without having derived some
instruction."--_Christian Guardian._
=BATEMAN, Mrs.=--The Two Families; or, the Power of Religion. By
J. C. BATEMAN, Author of "The Netherwoods of Otterpool." Fcap. cloth,
3_s._ 6_d._
"This is an entertaining book, written in an unambitious and clear
style, showing the elevating influence of religion, and the baneful
effects of neglecting it. The moral of the story is healthful and
not overdrawn, although rather hackneyed. We cordially praise the
book for its earnestness and simplicity."--_Public Opinion._
"This little book is so well written, that we trust it will
have a very wide circulation. Mrs. Bateman's clever volume is
admirably adapted for young people, but all may profit by its
contents."--_Examiner._
=BIBLE.=--_THE SPONSORS' BIBLE._--Handsomely bound in morocco. Price
21_s._; or with clasp, 25_s._
This has been prepared to supply a want long felt of an appropriate
Baptismal present, which should be elegant without being costly. It
consists of a handsomely printed edition of the Holy Scriptures | 275.769652 | 1,317 |
2023-11-16 18:20:22.6661600 | 380 | 81 |
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
produced from scanned images of public domain material
from the Google Print project.)
[Illustration: THE BALL ROSE AND FLEW DIRECTLY AT THE BASKET.]
THE GIRLS OF CENTRAL HIGH AT BASKETBALL
GERTRUDE W. MORRISON
1914
CONTENTS:
CHAPTER I--HESTER IS MIFFED
CHAPTER II--THE KERNEL IN THE ATHLETIC NUT
CHAPTER III--JOHNNY DOYLE
CHAPTER IV--"THERE'S GOOD STUFF IN THAT GIRL"
CHAPTER V--HESTER AT HOME
CHAPTER VI--THE FIRST GAME
CHAPTER VII--THE SECOND HALF
CHAPTER VIII--THE ROUND ROBIN
CHAPTER IX--ANOTHER RAID
CHAPTER X--MOTHER WIT AND THE GRAY MARE
CHAPTER XI--HEBE POCOCK
CHAPTER XII--"OUT OF IT"
CHAPTER XIII--THE WIND VEERS
CHAPTER XIV--RACING THE FLAMES
CHAPTER XV--THE KEYPORT GAME
CHAPTER XVI--UPHILL WORK FOR THE TEAM
CHAPTER XVII--HEBE POCOCK IN TROUBLE
CHAPTER XVIII--MOTHER WIT TO THE RESCUE
CHAPTER XIX--AT LUMBERPORT
CHAPTER XX--WINNING ALL ALONG THE LINE
CHAPTER XXI--WHAT HESTER DID
CHAPTER XXII--WHAT MR. BILLSON COULD TELL
CHAPTER XXIII--CLIMBING UP
CHAPTER XXIV--HESTER WINS
CHAPTER XXV--THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED
CHAPTER I
| 275.98557 | 1,318 |
2023-11-16 18:20:23.1104110 | 1,156 | 388 | WATER***
E-text prepared by Jane Robins and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 48013-h.htm or 48013-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/48013/48013-h/48013-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/48013/48013-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/cu31924023253143
[Illustration: The White Terrace, Hot Lakes, New Zealand.
_Frontispiece._ Page 119.]
FORTY THOUSAND MILES OVER LAND AND WATER
The Journal of a Tour Through the British Empire and America
by
MRS. HOWARD VINCENT
With Numerous Illustrations
Third and Cheaper Edition.
London:
Sampson Low, Marston, Searle & Rivington,
Crown Buildings, 188, Fleet Street.
1886.
[All rights reserved.]
London:
Printed by Gilbert and Rivington, Limited,
St. John's Square.
TO
OUR FRIENDS,
THE CHILDREN OF THE METROPOLITAN AND CITY POLICE
ORPHANAGE,
This Journal is Dedicated
BY
THEIR CONSTANT WELL-WISHERS.
PREFACE.
My husband, during his six years' tenure of the office of Director of
Criminal Investigations, took the greatest interest in the Metropolitan
and City Police Orphanage.
In taking leave of his young friends he promised to keep for their
benefit a record of our travels through the British Empire and America.
I have endeavoured to the best of my power to relieve him of this task.
It is but a simple Journal of what we saw and did.
But if the Police will accept it, as a further proof of our admiration
and respect for them as a body, then I feel sure that others who may be
kind enough to read it will be lenient towards the shortcomings of a
first publication.
ETHEL GWENDOLINE VINCENT.
1, GROSVENOR SQUARE, LONDON.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
ACROSS THE ATLANTIC 1
CHAPTER II.
NEW YORK, HUDSON RIVER, AND NIAGARA FALLS 4
CHAPTER III.
THE DOMINION OF CANADA 17
CHAPTER IV.
THE AMERICAN LAKES, AND THE CENTRES OF LEARNING,
FASHION, AND GOVERNMENT 26
CHAPTER V.
TO THE FAR WEST 43
CHAPTER VI.
SAN FRANCISCO AND THE YOSEMITE VALLEY 66
CHAPTER VII.
ACROSS THE PACIFIC 88
CHAPTER VIII.
COACHING THROUGH THE NORTH ISLAND OF NEW
ZEALAND; ITS HOT LAKES AND GEYSERS 102
CHAPTER IX.
THE SOUTH ISLAND OF NEW ZEALAND; ITS ALPS AND
MOUNTAIN LAKES 146
CHAPTER X.
AUSTRALIA--TASMANIA, AND VICTORIA 161
CHAPTER XI.
AUSTRALIA--NEW SOUTH WALES, AND QUEENSLAND 181
CHAPTER XII.
WITHIN THE BARRIER REEF, THROUGH TORRES
STRAITS TO BATAVIA 200
CHAPTER XIII.
NETHERLANDS INDIA 212
CHAPTER XIV.
THE STRAITS SETTLEMENTS 235
CHAPTER XV.
THE METROPOLIS OF INDIA AND ITS HIMALAYAN
SANATORIUM 250
CHAPTER XVI.
THE SHRINES OF THE HINDU FAITH 274
CHAPTER XVII.
THE SCENES OF THE INDIAN MUTINY 287
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE CITIES OF THE GREAT MOGUL 304
CHAPTER XIX.
GWALIOR AND RAJPUTANA 332
CHAPTER XX.
THE HOME OF THE PARSEES 352
CHAPTER XXI.
THROUGH EGYPT--HOMEWARDS 361
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
The White Terrace, Hot Lakes, New Zealand _Frontispiece_
Route Map _to face_ 1
"That horrible fog-horn!" 1
Elevated-Railway, New York 6
Parliament Buildings, Ottawa _to face_ 22
The Capitol, Washington 40
The Royal Gorge of the Arkansas _to face_ 58
The Sentinel, Yosemite Valley " 77
The Cathedral Spires, Yosemite Valley 79
Big Tree, California 83
Maori Chieftain 110
Tuhuatahi Geyser, New Zealand 128
Lake Wakitipu, New Zealand 157
Government House, Melbourne _to face_ 165
Sydney Harbour " 182
| 276.429821 | 1,319 |
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Produced by Brian Foley, Keith Edkins and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Transcriber's note: A few typographical errors have been corrected: they
are listed at the end of the text.
* * * * *
Page numbers enclosed by curly braces (example: {25}) have been
incorporated to facilitate the use of the Table of Contents and Index.
* * * * *
A SHORT HISTORY OF
ENGLISH LIBERALISM
BY
W. LYON BLEASE
_No rational man ever did govern himself by abstractions and
universals.... A statesman differs from a professor in an university;
the latter has only the general view of society.... A statesman, never
losing sight of principles, is to be guided by circumstances; and,
judging contrary to the exigencies of the moment, he may ruin his
country for ever._
BURKE, "On the Petition of the Unitarians."
T. FISHER UNWIN
LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACE
LEIPSIC: INSELSTRASSE 20
* * * * *
TO
"THE MANCHESTER GUARDIAN"
_First Published in 1913_
(_All rights reserved._)
* * * * *
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. LIBERALISM AND TORYISM 7
II. POLITICAL CONDITIONS IN THE REIGN OF GEORGE III 42
III. THE FIRST MOVEMENT TOWARDS LIBERALISM 69
IV. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND ENGLISH OPINION 100
V. THE DECLINE OF TORYISM 142
VI. THE MIDDLE-CLASS SUPREMACY 168
VII. THE MANCHESTER SCHOOL AND PALMERSTON 190
VIII. THE BEGINNING OF THE GLADSTONE PERIOD 230
IX. GLADSTONE VERSUS DISRAELI 265
X. THE IMPERIALIST REACTION 294
XI. LIBERALISM SINCE 1906 324
* * * * *
{7}
A Short History of English Liberalism
CHAPTER I
LIBERALISM AND TORYISM
This book attempts to trace the varying but persistent course of Liberalism
in British politics during the last hundred and fifty years. It is not so
much a history of events as a reading of them in the light of a particular
political philosophy. In the strict sense a history of Liberalism should
cover much more than politics. The same habit of mind is to be discovered
everywhere else in the history of thought, most conspicuously in religious
history, but not less certainly in the history of science and of art. The
general victory in these innumerable conflicts of opinion has been to
Liberalism, and the movement of the race, during the period with which the
writer is concerned, is precisely measured by the degree in which the
Liberal spirit has succeeded in modifying the establishments of the
preceding age. The object of this book is to investigate the course of that
process of modification in politics.
By Liberalism I mean, not a policy, but a habit of mind. It is the
disposition of the man who looks upon each of his fellows as of equal worth
with himself. He does not assume that all men and women are of equal
capacity, or equally entitled to offices and privileges. But he is always
inclined to leave and to give them equal opportunity with himself for
self-expression and for self-development. He assumes, as the basis of his
activity, that he has no right to interfere with any other person's
attempts {8} to employ his natural powers in what he conceives to be the
best way. He is unwilling to impose his judgment upon that of others, or to
force them to live their lives according to his ideas rather than their
own. They are never to be used by him for his own ends, but for theirs.
Each is to be left to himself, to work out his own salvation. The Liberal
habit of mind has its positive as well as its negative side. Just as it
leads its possessor to refrain from interfering with the development of
others, so it leads him to take active steps to remove the artificial
barriers which impede that development. Natural obstacles will remain,
though even these may be diminished. But the artificial conditions, which
prevent or hinder growth, are perpetually obnoxious to the Liberal. Upon
class distinctions in society, privileges of sex, rank, wealth, and creed,
he wages unceasing war. They are, in his eye, weights and impediments. To
one of two individuals, not distinguishable in natural capacity, they give
an advantage which is denied to the other. It is the object of the Liberal,
not to deprive any individual of such opportunities as are required for the
exercise of his natural powers, but to prevent the excessive appropriation
of such opportunities by members of the privileged class. The differences
between the practical aims and methods of Liberals at different times are
very wide. But the mental habit has always been the same. "The passion for
improving mankind, in its ultimate object, does not vary. But the immediate
object of reformers and the forms of persuasion by which they seek to
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LORD'S LECTURES
BEACON LIGHTS OF HISTORY, VOLUME XIII
GREAT WRITERS.
Dr Lord's Uncompleted Plan, Supplemented with Essays by
Emerson, Macaulay, Hedge, And Mercer Adam
BY JOHN LORD, LL.D.,
AUTHOR OF "THE OLD ROMAN WORLD," "MODERN EUROPE,"
ETC., ETC.
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE.
This being the last possible volume in the series of "Beacon Lights of
History" from the pen of Dr. Lord, its readers will be interested to
know that it contains all the lectures that he had completed (although
not all that he had projected) for his review of certain of the chief
Men of Letters. Lectures on other topics were found among his papers,
but none that would perfectly fit into this scheme; and it was thought
best not to attempt any collection of his material which he himself had
not deemed worthy or appropriate for use in this series, which embodies
the best of his life's work,--all of his books and his lectures that he
wished to have preserved. For instance, "The Old Roman World," enlarged
in scope and rewritten, is included in the volumes on "Old Pagan
Civilizations," "Ancient Achievements," and "Imperial Antiquity;" much
of his "Modern Europe" reappears in "Great Rulers," "Modern European
Statesmen," and "European National Leaders," etc.
The consideration of "Great Writers" was reserved by Dr. Lord for his
final task,--a task interrupted by death and left unfinished. In order
to round out and complete this volume, recourse has been had to some
other masters in literary art, whose productions are added to Dr. Lord's
final writings.
In the present volume, therefore, are included the paper on
"Shakspeare" by Emerson, reprinted from his "Representative Men" by
permission of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., the authorized publishers
of Emerson's works; the famous essay on "Milton" by Macaulay; the
principal portion--biographical and generally critical--of the article
on "Goethe," from "Hours with the German Classics," by the late Dr.
Frederic H. Hedge, by permission of Messrs. Little, Brown & Co., the
publishers of that work; and a chapter on "Tennyson: the Spirit of
Modern Poetry," by G. Mercer Adam.
A certain advantage may accrue to the reader in finding these masters
side by side for comparison and for gauging Dr. Lord's unique life-work
by recognized standards, keeping well in view the purpose no less than
the perfection of these literary performances, all of which, like those
of Dr. Lord, were aimed at setting forth the services of _selected
forces_ in the world's life.
NEW YORK, September 15, 1902.
CONTENTS.
ROUSSEAU.
SOCIALISM AND EDUCATION.
Jean Jacques Rousseau and Edmund Burke
Rousseau representative of his century
Birth
Education and early career; engraver, footman
Secretary, music teacher, and writer
Meets Therese
His first public essay in literature
Operetta and second essay
Geneva; the Hermitage; Madame d'Epinay.
The "Nouvelle Heloise;" Comtesse d'Houdetot
"Emile;" "The Social Contract"
Books publicly burned; author flees
England; Hume; the "Confessions"
Death, career reviewed
Character of Rousseau
Essay on the Arts and Sciences
"Origin of Human Inequalities"
"The Social Contract"
"Emile"
The "New Heloise"
The "Confessions"
Influence of Rousseau
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
THE MODERN NOVEL.
Scott and Byron
Evanescence of literary fame
Parentage of Scott
Birth and childhood
Schooling and reading
Becomes an advocate
His friends and pleasures
Personal peculiarities
Writing of poetry; first publication
Marriage and settlement
"Scottish Minstrelsy"
"Lay of the Last Minstrel;" Ashestiel rented
The Edinburgh Review: Jeffrey, Brougham, Smith
The Ballantynes
"Marmion"
Jeffrey as a critic
Quarrels of author and publishers; Quarterly Review
Scott's poetry
Duration of poetic fame
Clerk of Sessions; Abbotsford bought
"Lord of the Isles;" "Rokeby"
Fiction; fame of great authors
"Waverley"
"Guy Mannering"
Great popularity of Scott
"The Antiquary"
"Old Mortality;" comparisons
"Rob Roy"
Scotland's debt to Scott
Prosperity; rank; correspondence
Personal habits
Life at Abbotsford
Chosen friends
Works issued in 1820-1825
Bankruptcy through failure of his publishers
Scott's noble character and action
Works issued in 1825-1831
Illness and death
Payment of his enormous debt
Vast pecuniary returns from his works
LORD BYRON.
POETIC GENIUS.
Difficulty of depicting Byron
Descent; birth; lameness
Schooling; early reading habits
College life
Temperament and character
First publication of poems | 276.909024 | 1,321 |
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[Illustration: Cover art]
ZOE
BY THE AUTHOR OF
'LADDIE,' 'DON,' 'POMONA,' 'BELLE,' 'PHOEBE'S HERO,' 'MISS TOOSEY'S
MISSION,' 'TIP CAT,' ETC.
[Transcriber's note: The British Library Integrated Catalogue cites
Evelyn Whitaker as the author of this book.]
LONDON: 38 Soho Square. W.1
W. & R. CHAMBERS, LIMITED
EDINBURGH: 339 High Street
1890
[Transcriber's note: The source book had varying page headers. They
have been collected at the start of each chapter as an introductory
paragraph, and here as the Table of Contents.]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
The Christening--An Outlandish Name--The Organist's
Mistake--Farm-work--Tom and Bill--The Baby--Baby and All
CHAPTER II.
Mr Robins--Village Choirs--Edith--An Elopement--A Father's Sorrow--An
Unhappy Pair--The Wanderer's Return--Father!--A Daughter's
Entreater--No Favourable Answer--A Sleepless Pillow
CHAPTER III.
Something on the Doorstep--Bill Gray--Is That a Cat?--She's Like
Mother--A Baby's Shoe--Jane Restless
CHAPTER IV.
Village Evidence--'Gray' on the Brain--Too Well He Knew--Mr Robins and
the Baby--He Had Not Done Badly
CHAPTER V.
Jane Hard at Work--Clothes for the Baby--Jane Returns--Jane Singing
over her Work--Jane's Selfish Absorption--For a Poor Person's
Child--The Organist in Church
CHAPTER VI.
The Good Baby--Mr Robins Comes and Goes--A Secret Power--Mr Robins
Happy--A Naughty Tiresome Gal!--The Gypsy Child
CHAPTER VII.
Gray Taken to the Hospital--Bill and the Baby--Mrs Gray Home
Again--Edith, Come Home!
CHAPTER VIII.
Preparation--The Room Furnished--Mrs Gray at Work--The Baby Gone--The
Gypsy Mother--The Gypsy's Story--A Foolish Fancy--Something Has
Happened--The Real Baby
ZOE.
CHAPTER I.
The Christening--An Outlandish Name--The Organist's
Mistake--Farm-work--Tom and Bill--The Baby--Baby and All
'Hath this child been already baptised, or no?'
'No, she ain't; leastwise we don't know as how she've been or no, so
we thought as we 'd best have her done.'
The clergyman who was taking Mr Clifford's duty at Downside for that
Sunday, thought that this might be the usual undecided way of answering
among the natives, and proceeded with the service. There were two
other babies also brought that afternoon, one of which was crying
lustily, so that it was not easy to hear what the sponsors answered;
and, moreover, the officiating clergyman was a young man, and the
prospect of holding that screaming, red-faced, little object made him
too nervous and anxious to get done with it to stop and make further
inquiries.
The woman who returned this undecided answer was an elderly woman, with
a kind, sunburnt, honest face, very much heated just now, and
embarrassed too; for the baby in her arms prevented her getting at her
pocket handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from her brow and pulling
her bonnet on to its proper position on her head. The man beside her
was also greatly embarrassed, and kept shuffling his large hob-nailed
shoes together, and turning his hat round and round in his fingers.
I think that really that hat was the chief cause of his discomfort, for
he was so accustomed to have it on his head that he could not feel
quite himself without it; and, indeed, his wife could hardly recognise
him, as she had been accustomed to see him wearing it indoors and out
during the twenty years of their married life; pushed back for meals or
smoking, but always on his head, except in bed, and even there, report
says, on cold winter nights, he had recourse to it to keep off the
draught from that cracked pane in the window. His face, like his
wife's, was weatherbeaten, and of the same broad, flat type as hers,
with small, surprised, dazzled-looking, pale blue eyes, and a tangle of
grizzled light hair under his chin. He was noticeable for the green
smock-frock he wore, a garment which is so rapidly disappearing before
the march of civilisation, and giving place to the ill-cut, ill-made
coat of shoddy cloth, which is fondly thought to resemble the squire's.
The christening party was completed by a hobbledehoy lad of about
sixteen, who tried to cover his invincible shyness by a grin, and to
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ON PHLEBITIS.
----"Whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood."
HAMLET.
PLATE SHEWING THE FIRST MORBID APPEARANCE PRODUCED BY THE STAGNATION
OF VITIATED BLOOD IN THE CAPILLARIES OF THE LUNGS.
[Illustration: Surface of Lung with Pleura Removed.
Section of Lung.]
ON THE ORIGIN
OF
INFLAMMATION OF THE VEINS,
AND
ON THE CAUSES, CONSEQUENCES, AND
TREATMENT OF PURULENT
DEPOSITS.
BY
HENRY LEE, F.R.C.S.
ASSISTANT SURGEON TO KING'S COLLEGE HOSPITAL, ETC.
"There is more to be learnt of the use of the blood in the animal
economy from its coagulation than from its fluidity."--HUNTER.
[Illustration: Coat of arms]
LONDON:
HENRY RENSHAW, 356, STRAND.
1850.
LONDON.
RICHARDS, PRINTER, 100, ST. MARTIN'S LANE.
PREFACE.
Since the period when Humoral Pathology fell into merited disrepute,
comparatively few attempts have been made, to define with any degree
of accuracy, the conditions under which morbid secretions may find
their way into the circulation. The diseases produced by the presence
of vitiated fluids in the general system, and in parts of the body at
a distance from their original source, have received more attention;
but they are still far from occupying that position in our systems of
medicine and surgery which their importance deserves.
The difficulty of tracing diseased secretions after they have become
mingled with the blood, or of recognising their presence in the
vessels, has rendered the investigation of their actions often tedious
and inconclusive; while, on the other hand, the changes of structure
in solid parts, readily appreciated by the senses, have been more
calculated to arrest the attention, and to afford that ready solution
of the origin of the symptoms which, whether imaginary or real, has a
tendency to relieve the mind from farther doubt and suspense. Hence it
has happened, that the pathology of the solid parts of the body has
received a very disproportionate share of attention.
Most of the observations which have tended to advance our knowledge of
the effects of the introduction of diseased fluids into the blood, have
been recorded under the name of Phlebitis or Inflammation of the Veins;
and I have retained this title, although it is obviously inadequate to
express those constitutional affections which form the most important
and characteristic features of these complaints.
The introduction of pus into the system has justly been regarded as
the most important of this class of diseases. But the theory of the
circulation of pus globules with the blood, supported as it has been
by much ingenious reasoning, and most conveniently adapted to explain
the formation of purulent deposits, has yet never obtained general
belief. The stoppage of the pus globules in the capillary tubes, has
appeared to many accustomed to the practical observation of diseases,
too mechanical a solution of the origin of these abscesses; and it has
become necessary to determine, with more precision than has hitherto
been done, the actual conditions under which pus in substance can be
received into the circulation.
The simple experiment of mixing some pus with healthy, recently drawn
blood, will at once shew that such a combination cannot circulate in
the living body. It will be found that the blood coagulates round the
globules of pus, and forms a solid mass which will adhere to the first
surface with which it comes in contact; and it will be evident, that it
is not till the coagulum thus formed is broken up or dissolved, that
its elements can circulate with the blood.
It appears not a little surprising that this, perhaps the simplest and
the most instructive experiment that can be performed in reference to
the subject of the formation of purulent deposits, should not have been
resorted to in preference to others which have been difficult in their
execution, and inconclusive in their results.
It has been remarked by Sir Charles Bell, that we can seldom rely
upon the answers that are extorted from living animals by experiments
which go counter to the natural feeling of mankind; and that it is our
duty, if experiments are performed, at all events to prepare for them
by the closest previous application of our reason, and so to narrow
the question as to be certain that advantage may be gained by our
proceedings. Had the simple experiment mentioned above, illustrating
the action of pus upon blood out of the body, been duly considered, it
might have saved some of the vague and useless experiments which have
been performed upon living animals in the investigation of the present
subject.
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[Illustration: W. A. ALLEN, AUTHOR]
THE SHEEP EATERS
BY
W. A. ALLEN, D.D.S.
[Illustration]
THE SHAKESPEARE PRESS,
114-116 EAST 28TH STREET,
NEW YORK.
1913.
COPYRIGHT, 1913,
_by_
W. A. ALLEN
_This Book Is Affectionately
Dedicated To My Friend_
MRS. CLARA DALLAS.
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I AN EXTINCT MOUNTAIN TRIBE 7
II THE OLD SQUAW'S TALE 12
III THE GOLD SEEKER IN THE MOUNTAINS 21
IV STARTING FOR THE PAINT ROCKS 30
V A TALK WITH LITTLE BEAR 35
VI CURIOSITIES AROUND PAINT ROCK 45
VII THE STORY OF AGGRETTA AND THE RED ARROW 51
VIII CLOSING WORDS 72
THE SHEEP EATERS
CHAPTER I
AN EXTINCT MOUNTAIN TRIBE
The Sheep Eaters were a tribe of Indians that became extinct about fifty
years ago, and what remaining history there is of this tribe is
inscribed upon granite walls of rock in Wyoming and Montana, and in a
few defiles and canyons, together with a few arrows and tepees remaining
near Black Canyon, whose stream empties into the Big Horn River. Bald
Mountain still holds the great shrine wheel, where the twenty-eight
tribes came semi-annually to worship the sun, and in the most
inaccessible places may still be found the remains of a happy people.
Small in stature and living among the clouds, this proud race lived a
happy life far removed from all other Indians.
The Shoshones seem to be a branch of the Sheep Eaters who afterwards
intermarried with the Mountain Crows, a tall race of people who gave to
the Shoshones a taller and better physique. From what can be gleaned,
the Sheep Eater women were most beautiful, but resembled the Alaskan
Indians in their shortness of stature.
These people drew their name from their principal article of food,
Mountain Sheep, although, when winter set in, elk and deer were often
killed when coming down before a driving snow storm.
Their home life was simple. They lived in the grassy parks of the
mountains which abounded in springs of fresh water, and were surrounded
by evergreens and quaking asps and sheltered by granite walls rising
from fifty to a thousand feet high. Their tepees were different from
those of all other tribes, and were not covered with rawhide but
thatched with quaking asp bark, and covered with a gum and glue made
from sheep's hoofs. Another variety were covered with pitch pine gum.
[Illustration: WHEEL OF THE HOLY SHRINE, BALD MOUNTAIN, WYO.]
In this manner lived the twenty-eight tribes of Sheep Eaters, carving
their history on granite walls, building their homes permanently among
the snowy peaks where they held communion with the sun, and worshipping
at their altar on Bald Mountain, which seems likely to remain until the
Sheep Eaters are awakened by Gabriel's trumpet on the morning of the
resurrection.
Never having been taught differently, they believed in gods, chief of
which was the sun, and consecrated their lives to them; and their
eternal happiness will be complete in the great Happy Region where all
is bright and warm. The great wheel, or shrine, of this people is eighty
feet across the face, and has twenty-eight spokes, representing the
twenty-eight tribes of their race. At the center or hub there is a house
of stone, where Red Eagle held the position of chief or leader of all
the tribes. Facing the north-east was the house of the god of plenty,
and on the south-east faced the house of the goddess of beauty; and due
west was the beautifully built granite cave dedicated to the sun god,
and from this position the services were supposed to be directed by him.
Standing along the twenty-eight spokes were the worshippers, chanting
their songs of praise to the heavens, while their sun dial on earth was
a true copy of the sun.
A short time ago I learned that among the Mountain Crows there lived an
old woman, who was the very last of her tribe, and who was so old she
seemed like a spirit from another world. She had outlived her people and
had wandered away from her home on the mountains into the valleys,
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[Illustration: Wm. T. Sherman]
LIFE OF
WM. TECUMSEH SHERMAN.
Late Retired General. U. S. A.
A GRAPHIC HISTORY OF HIS CAREER IN WAR AND PEACE; HIS ROMANTIC
YOUTH; HIS STERN AND PATRIOTIC MANHOOD; HIS CALM AND BEAUTIFUL
OLD AGE; A MARVELLOUS MARCH FROM THE MOUNTAINS OF TIME TO THE
SEA OF ETERNITY.
By W. FLETCHER JOHNSON,
Author of "Stanley's Adventures in Africa," "History of the
Johnstown Flood," "Life of Sitting Bull and History of the Indian
Wars," etc., etc.
Carefully Reviewed, Chapter by Chapter, and with an Introduction
By MAJ. GEN. O. O. HOWARD, U. S. A.
With Numerous Maps and Illustrations.
EDGEWOOD PUBLISHING COMPANY.
1891.
COPYRIGHT 1891, BY A. R. KELLER.
INTRODUCTION.
The title of this work is hardly a fair index to the contents.
The "Life of General Sherman," written with any reasonable detail so
as to depict his formative period, the gradual development of his
energies, the bulk of his achievements and the great consummation of
his genius, could not be contained in any three volumes of this size.
The work, so far as the labor of the author, Mr. Johnson, is concerned,
is eclectic,--mainly a compendium.
There are beautiful sketches, choice pictorial presentations of Sherman
and his environments from childhood to age. But, I do not think that
the work, valuable as it undoubtedly is, could in any degree take the
place of Sherman's Personal Memoirs.
There are some chapters which have been furnished by war editorials
and the writings of field correspondents which the author must have
collected and carefully preserved.
Many of these are life-like, and bear the impress and the inspiration
of the exciting events amid which they were composed.
There are, furthermore, in this book, chapters which are ingeniously
formed and elaborated by quotations from officers who were themselves
part and parcel of the campaigns which they describe.
To me, the author appears to have done exceedingly well, and has herein
furnished a choice entertainment to his readers.
The part undertaken by me, and to which I have strictly confined
myself, has been to review the work, some of it already in proof
type, and the remainder in manuscript, going over each chapter with
considerable care, and suggesting such changes as I thought the truth
of history demanded.
Where one has expressed an opinion and a quotation of that opinion
appears, of course no change was admissible; so that I am entirely
unwilling to assume that such a quoted writer gave utterance to my own
convictions.
For example: different views are given of the fearful struggle during
the first day of "Shiloh" at Pittsburgh Landing. A famous journalist
takes General Sherman to task for want of epaulements, intrenchments,
and other means of defence. He claims that Sherman and Grant were both
surprised, as they had known for a week or more that the enemy was
close by, and liable to attack.
Certainly the answer to this allegation, and it should be a very clear
and decided answer, would be found in any completed history. Our troops
had not yet, at that period of the war of the rebellion, made much use
of intrenching tools. Grant and Sherman did not design to put their new
troops into intrenched camps.
They believed, and very justly, that it was next to impossible to
handle them offensively, as we say, against the enemy. But they did
have some cover. The woods, ravines, and general contour of the ground
gave them protection, and it was in faithful use of this cover that
during the battle-storm of the first day near Shiloh church, they were
able to hold out till reinforcements came.
This example will suggest others to the reader. Still, the phases
presented by the different writers, from whom extracts are taken,
afford a kaleidoscopic variety, interesting especially to those of us
who lived at the time of the occurrences in question.
Probably none of us can do more than our noble General Sherman, years
ago, suggested. He said in substance: We who were involved in the
controversies, the battles, and campaigns of the great war, are not the
men to write the history. We are like witnesses in court. Each should
give his own testimony of what he saw and knew. Somebody else, will in
the future, after passion and prejudice shall have subsided, rise up to
make a search, a selection, a summation, and so the better evolve the
true history.
With regard to General Sherman and his career, in my judgment the more
of truthful statements that are made the better. Let eye witnesses give
all the evidence they can.
In his heart was a love of truth, a phenomenal loyalty to his country,
a fearless and prompt devotion to duty and markedly an absence of
aught that was malicious. True, he resented wrong often with a fiery
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Transcriber's notes:
(1) Numbers following letters (without space) like C2 were originally
printed in subscript. Letter subscripts are preceded by an
underscore, like C_n.
(2) Characters following a carat (^) were printed in superscript.
(3) Side-notes were relocated to function as titles of their respective
paragraphs.
(4) Macrons and breves above letters and dots below letters were not
inserted.
(5) [root] stands for the root symbol; [alpha], [beta], etc. for greek
letters.
(6) The following typographical errors have been corrected:
ARTICLE HYDROMECHANICS: "... and [omega] the angular velocity
about it generated by an impulse couple M, and M' is the couple
required to set the surrounding medium in motion..." 'impulse'
amended from 'impluse'.
ARTICLE HYMENOPTERA: "... see P. Cameron's British Phytophagous
Hymenoptera (4 vols., London, Roy. Soc., 1882-1893)." 'Roy'
amended from 'Ray'.
ARTICLE HYRCANUS: "During its later years his reign was much
disturbed, however, by the contentions for ascendancy which arose
between the Pharisees and Sadducees, the two rival sects or
parties which then for the first time (under those names at least)
came into prominence." 'disturbed' amended from 'distrubed'.
ARTICLE ICELAND: "Iceland is emphatically a land of proverbs,
while of folk-tales, those other keys to the people's heart, there
is plentiful store." 'people's' amended from 'poeple's'.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE
AND GENERAL INFORMATION
ELEVENTH EDITION
VOLUME XIV, SLICE II
Hydromechanics to Ichnography
ARTICLES IN THIS SLICE:
HYDROMECHANICS HYTHE
HYDROMEDUSAE I
HYDROMETER IAMBIC
HYDROPATHY IAMBLICHUS (Greek philosopher)
HYDROPHOBIA IAMBLICHUS (Greek romance writer)
HYDROSPHERE IANNINA
HYDROSTATICS IAPETUS
HYDROXYLAMINE IAPYDES
HYDROZOA IATROCHEMISTRY
HYENA IAZYGES
HYERES IBADAN
HYGIEIA IBAGUE
HYGIENE IBARRA
HYGINUS (eighth pope) IBERIANS
HYGINUS (Latin writer) IBEX
HYGINUS, GAIUS JULIUS IBIS
HYGROMETER IBLIS
HYKSOS IBN 'ABD RABBIHI
HYLAS IBN 'ARABI
HYLOZOISM IBN ATHIR
HYMEN IBN BATUTA
HYMENOPTERA IBN DURAID
HYMETTUS IBN FARADI
HYMNS IBN FARID
HYPAETHROS IBN GABIROL
HYPALLAGE IBN HAUKAL
HYPATIA IBN HAZM
HYPERBATON IBN HISHAM
HYPERBOLA IBN ISHAQ
HYPERBOLE IBN JUBAIR
HYPERBOREANS IBN KHALDUN
HYPEREIDES IBN KHALLIKAN
HYPERION IBN QUTAIBA
HYPERSTHENE IBN SA'D
HYPERTROPHY IBN TIBBON
HYPNOTISM IBN TUFAIL
HYPOCAUST IBN USAIBI'A
HYPOCHONDRIASIS IBO
HYPOCRISY IBRAHIM AL-MAUSILI
HYPOSTASIS IBRAHIM PASHA
HYPOSTYLE IBSEN, HENRIK
HYPOS | 277.712202 | 1,326 |
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THE UNICORN FROM THE STARS
AND OTHER PLAYS
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK. BOSTON. CHICAGO
ATLANTA. SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON. BOMBAY. CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
THE UNICORN FROM THE STARS
AND OTHER PLAYS
BY
WILLIAM B. YEATS
AND
LADY GREGORY
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1908
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1904, 1908,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
New edition. Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1908.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
PREFACE
About seven years ago I began to dictate the first of these Plays to
Lady Gregory. My eyesight had become so bad that I feared I could
henceforth write nothing with my own hands but verses, which, as
Theophile Gautier has said, can be written with a burnt match. Our
Irish Dramatic movement was just passing out of the hands of English
Actors, hired because we knew of no Irish ones, and our little troop of
Irish amateurs--as they were at the time--could not have too many
Plays, for they would come to nothing without continued playing.
Besides, it was exciting to discover, after the unpopularity of blank
verse, what one could do with three Plays written in prose and founded
on three public interests deliberately chosen,--religion, humour,
patriotism. I planned in those days to establish a dramatic movement
upon the popular passions, as the ritual of religion is established in
the emotions that surround birth and death and marriage, and it was
only the coming of the unclassifiable, uncontrollable, capricious,
uncompromising genius of J. M. Synge that altered the direction of the
movement and made it individual, critical, and combative. If his had
not, some other stone would have blocked up the old way, for the public
mind of Ireland, stupefied by prolonged intolerant organisation, can
take but brief pleasure in the caprice that is in all art, whatever its
subject, and, more commonly, can but hate unaccustomed personal
reverie.
I had dreamed the subject of "Cathleen ni Houlihan," but found when I
looked for words that I could not create peasant dialogue that would go
nearer to peasant life than the dialogue in "The Land of Heart's
Desire" or "The Countess Cathleen." Every artistic form has its own
ancestry, and the more elaborate it is, the more is the writer
constrained to symbolise rather than to represent life, until perhaps
his ladies of fashion are shepherds and shepherdesses, as when Colin
Clout came home again. I could not get away, no matter how closely I
watched the country life, from images and dreams which had all too
royal blood, for they were descended like the thought of every poet
from all the conquering dreams of Europe, and I wished to make that
high life mix into some rough contemporary life without ceasing to be
itself, as so many old books and Plays have mixed it and so few modern,
and to do this I added another knowledge to my own. Lady Gregory had
written no Plays, but had, I discovered, a greater knowledge of the
country mind and country speech than anybody I had ever met with, and
nothing but a burden of knowledge could keep "Cathleen ni Houlihan"
from the clouds. I needed less help for the "Hour-Glass," for the
speech there is far from reality, and so the Play is almost wholly
mine. When, however, I brought to her the general scheme for the "Pot
of Broth," a little farce which seems rather imitative to-day, though
it plays well enough, and of the first version of "The Unicorn," "Where
there is Nothing," a five-act Play written in a fortnight to save it
from a plagiarist, and tried to dictate them, her share grew more and
more considerable. She would not allow me to put her name to these
Plays, though I have always tried to explain her share in them, but has
signed "The Unicorn from the Stars," which but for a good deal of the
general plan and a single character and bits of another is wholly hers.
I feel indeed that my best share in it is that idea, which I have been
capable of expressing completely in criticism alone, of bringing
together the rough life of the road and the frenzy that the poets have
found in their ancient cellar,--a prophecy, as it were, of the time
when it will be once again possible for a Dickens and a Shelley to be
born in the one body.
The chief person of the earlier Play was very dominating, and I have
grown to look upon this as a fault, though it increases the dramatic
effect in a superficial way. We cannot sympathise with the man who sets
his anger at once lightly and confidently to overthrow the order of the
world, for such a man will seem to us alike insane and arrogant. But
our hearts can go with him, as I think, if he speak with some humility,
so far as his daily self carry him, out of a cloudy light of vision;
for whether he understand or not, it may be that voices of angels and
archangels have spoken in the cloud, and whatever wildness come upon
his life, feet of theirs may well have trod the clusters. But a man so
plunged in trance is of necessity somewhat still and silent, though it
be perhaps the silence and the stillness of a lamp; and the movement of
the Play as a whole, if we are to have time to hear him | 277.794746 | 1,327 |
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MEANS AND ENDS
OF EDUCATION
BY
J. L. SPALDING
Bishop of Peoria
WHO BRINGETH MANY THINGS,
FOR EACH ONE SOMETHING BRINGS
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY
1895
COPYRIGHT
BY A. C. MCCLURG L Co.
A.D. 1895
By Bishop Spalding
EDUCATION AND THE HIGHER LIFE. 12mo. $1.00.
THINGS OF THE MIND. 12mo. $1.00.
MEANS AND ENDS OF EDUCATION. 12mo. $1.00.
A. C. McCLURG AND CO.
CHICAGO.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I. TRUTH AND LOVE
II. TRUTH AND LOVE
III. THE MAKING OF ONE'S SELF
IV. WOMAN AND EDUCATION
V. THE SCOPE OF PUBLIC-SCHOOL EDUCATION
VI. THE RELIGIOUS ELEMENT IN EDUCATION
VII. THE HIGHER EDUCATION
MEANS AND ENDS OF EDUCATION.
CHAPTER I.
TRUTH AND LOVE.
None of us yet know, for none of us have yet been taught in early
youth, what fairy palaces we may build of beautiful thought--proof
against all adversity;--bright fancies, satisfied memories, noble
histories, faithful sayings, treasure-houses of precious and restful
thoughts; which care cannot disturb, nor pain make gloomy, nor poverty
take away from us--houses built without hands for our souls to live
in.--RUSKIN.
Stirred up with high hopes of living to be brave men and worthy
patriots, dear to God and famous to all ages.--MILTON.
A great man's house is filled chiefly with menials and creatures of
ceremony; and great libraries contain, for the most part, books as dry
and lifeless as the dust that gathers on them: but from amidst these
dead leaves an immortal mind here and there looks forth with light and
love.
From the point of view of the bank president, Emerson tells us, books
are merely so much rubbish. But in his eyes the flowers also, the
flowing water, the fresh air, the floating clouds, children's voices,
the thrill of love, the fancy's play, the mountains, and the stars are
worthless.
Not one in a hundred who buy Shakspere, or Milton, or a work of any
other great mind, feels a genuine longing to get at the secret of its
power and truth; but to those alone who feel this longing is the secret
revealed. We must love the man of genius, if we would have him speak
to us. We learn to know ourselves, not by studying the behavior of
matter, but through experience of life and intimate acquaintance with
literature. Our spiritual as well as our physical being springs from
that of our ancestors. Freedom, however, gives the soul the power not
only to develop what it inherits, but to grow into conscious communion
with the thought and love, the hope and faith of the noble dead, and,
in thus enlarging itself, to become the inspiration and source of
richer and wider life for those who follow. As parents are consoled by
the thought of surviving in their descendants, great minds are upheld
and strengthened in their ceaseless labors by the hope of entering as
an added impulse to better things, from generation to generation, into
the lives of thousands. The greatest misfortune which can befall
genius is to be sold to the advocacy of what is not truth and love and
goodness and beauty. The proper translation of _timeo hominem unius
libri_ is not, "I fear a man of one book," but "I dread a man of one
book:" for he is sure to be narrow, one-sided, and unreasonable. The
right phrase enters at once into our spiritual world, and its power
becomes as real as that of material objects. The truth to which it
gives body is borne in upon us as a star or a mountain is borne in upon
us. Kings and rich men live in history when genius happens to throw
the light of abiding worlds upon their ephemeral estate. Carthage is
the typical city of merchants and traders. Why is it remembered?
Because Hannibal was a warrior and Virgil a poet.
The strong man is he who knows how and is able to become and be
himself; the magnanimous man is he who, being strong, knows how and is
able to issue forth from himself, as from a | 278.383857 | 1,328 |
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CANNIBALS ALL!
OR,
SLAVES WITHOUT MASTERS.
BY
GEORGE FITZHUGH,
OF PORT ROYAL, CAROLINE, VA.
"His hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against
him."--GEN. XVI. 12.
"Physician, heal thyself."--LUKE IV. 23.
RICHMOND, VA.
A. MORRIS, PUBLISHER.
1857.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by
ADOLPHUS MORRIS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Eastern District of Virginia.
C. H. WYNNE, PRINTER, RICHMOND.
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
DEDICATION vii
PREFACE ix
INTRODUCTION xiii
CHAPTER I.
The Universal Trade 25
CHAPTER II.
Labor, Skill and Capital 33
CHAPTER III.
Subject Continued--Exploitation of Skill 58
CHAPTER IV.
International Exploitation 75
CHAPTER V.
False Philosophy of the Age 79
CHAPTER VI.
Free Trade, Fashion and Centralization 86
CHAPTER VII.
The World is _Too Little_ Governed 97
CHAPTER VIII.
Liberty and Slavery 106
CHAPTER IX.
Paley on Exploitation 124
CHAPTER X.
Our best Witnesses and Masters in the Art of War 127
CHAPTER XI.
Decay of English Liberty, and growth of English Poor Laws 157
CHAPTER XII.
The French Laborers and the French Revolution 176
CHAPTER XIII.
The Reformation--The Right of Private Judgment 194
CHAPTER XIV.
The Nomadic Beggars and Pauper Banditti of England 204
CHAPTER XV.
"Rural Life of England," 218
CHAPTER XVI.
The Distressed Needle-Women and Hood's Song of the Shirt 223
CHAPTER XVII.
The Edinburgh Review on Southern Slavery 236
CHAPTER XVIII.
The London Globe on West India Emancipation 274
CHAPTER XIX.
Protection, and Charity, to the Weak 278
CHAPTER XX.
The Family 281
CHAPTER XXI.
<DW64> Slavery 294
CHAPTER XXII.
The Strength of Weakness 300
CHAPTER XXIII.
Money 303
CHAPTER XXIV.
Gerrit Smith on Land Reform, and William Loyd Garrison
on No-Government 306
CHAPTER XXV.
In what Anti-Slavery ends 311
CHAPTER XXVI.
Christian Morality impracticable in Free Society--but
the Natural Morality of Slave Society 316
CHAPTER XXVII.
Slavery--Its effects on the Free 320
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Private Property destroys Liberty and Equality 323
CHAPTER XXIX.
The National Era an Excellent Witness 327
CHAPTER XXX.
The Philosophy of the Isms--Shewing why they abound
at the North, and are unknown at the South 332
CHAPTER XXXI.
Deficiency of Food in Free Society 335
CHAPTER XXXII.
Man has Property in Man 341
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The "Coup de Grace" to Abolition 344
CHAPTER XXXIV.
National Wealth, Individual Wealth, Luxury and economy 350
CHAPTER XXXV.
Government a thing of Force, not of Consent 353
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Warning to the North 363
Chapter XXXVII.
Addendum 373
DEDICATION.
TO THE HONORABLE HENRY A. WISE.
DEAR SIR:
I dedicate this work to you, because I am acquainted with no one who has
so zealously, laboriously and successfully endeavored to Virginianise
Virginia, by encouraging, through State legislation, her intellectual
and physical growth and development; no one who has seen so clearly the
evils of centralization from without, and worked so earnestly to cure or
avert those evils, by building up centralization within.
Virginia should have her centres of Thought at her Colleges and her
University, centres of Trade and Manufactures at her Seaboard and
Western towns, and centres of Fashion at her Mineral Springs.
I agree with you, too, that State strength and State independence are
the best guarantees of State rights; and that policy the wisest which
most promotes the growth of State strength and independence.
Weakness invites aggression; strength commands respect; hence, the Union
is safest when its separate members | 278.488751 | 1,329 |
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and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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+---------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original |
| document has been preserved. |
| |
| Greek text has been transliterated and marked with +'s. |
| |
| Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For |
| a complete list, please see the end of this document. |
| |
+---------------------------------------------------------+
NEW
ITALIAN SKETCHES.
BY
JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS,
AUTHOR OF "SKETCHES IN ITALY," ETC.
_COPYRIGHT EDITION._
LEIPZIG
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1884.
_The Right of Translation is reserved._
PREFATORY NOTE.
This volume of New Italian Sketches has been made up from two books
published in England and America under the titles of "Sketches and
Studies in Italy" and "Italian Byways." It forms in some respects a
companion volume to my "Sketches in Italy" already published in the
Tauchnitz Collection of British Authors. But it is quite independent of
that other book, and is in no sense a continuation of it. In making the
selection, I have however followed the same principles of choice. That
is to say, I have included only those studies of places, rather than of
literature or history, which may suit the needs of travellers in Italy.
JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS.
DAVOS PLATZ, _Dec. 1883_.
TO
CHRISTIAN BUOL AND CHRISTIAN PALMY
MY FRIENDS AND FELLOW-TRAVELLERS
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK.
CONTENTS
Page
AUTUMN WANDERINGS 11
MONTE OLIVETO 34
MONTEPULCIANO 57
SPRING WANDERINGS 84
MAY IN UMBRIA 106
THE PALACE OF URBINO 138
A VENETIAN MEDLEY 169
THE GONDOLIER'S WEDDING 212
FORNOVO 238
BERGAMO AND BARTOLOMMEO COLLEONI 261
LOMBARD VIGNETTES 282
NEW ITALIAN SKETCHES.
AUTUMN WANDERINGS.
I.--ITALIAM PETIMUS.
_Italiam petimus!_ We left our upland home before daybreak on a clear
October morning. There had been a hard frost, spangling the meadows with
rime-crystals, which twinkled where the sun's rays touched them. Men and
women were mowing the frozen grass with thin short Alpine scythes; and
as the swathes fell, they gave a crisp, an almost tinkling sound. Down
into the gorge, surnamed of Avalanche, our horses plunged; and there we
lost the sunshine till we reached the Bear's Walk, opening upon the
vales of Albula, and Julier, and Schyn. But up above, shone morning
light upon fresh snow, and steep torrent-cloven <DW72>s reddening with a
hundred fading plants; now and then it caught the grey-green icicles
that hung from cliffs where summer streams had dripped. There is no
colour lovelier than the blue of an autumn sky in the high Alps,
defining ridges powdered with light snow, and melting imperceptibly
downward into the warm yellow of the larches and the crimson of the
bilberry. Wiesen was radiantly beautiful: those aerial ranges of the
hills that separate Albula from Julier soared crystal-clear above their
forests; and for a foreground, on the green fields starred with lilac
crocuses, careered a group of children on their sledges. Then came the
row of giant peaks--Pitz d'Aela, Tinzenhorn, and Michelhorn, above the
deep ravine of Albula--all seen across wide undulating golden swards,
close-shaven and awaiting winter. Carnations hung from cottage windows
in full bloom, casting sharp angular black shadows on white walls.
_Italiam petimus!_ We have climbed the valley of the Julier, following
its green, transparent torrent. A night has come and gone at Muehlen. The
stream still leads us up, diminishing in volume as we rise, up through
the fleecy mists that roll asunder for the sun, disclosing far-off snowy
ridges and blocks of granite mountains. The lifeless, soundless waste of
rock, where only thin winds whistle out of silence and fade suddenly
into still air, is passed. Then comes the descent, with its forests of
larch and cembra, golden and dark green upon a ground of grey, and in
front the serried shafts of the Bernina, and here and there a glimpse of
emerald lake at turnings of the road. Autumn is the season for this
landscape. Through the fading of innumerable leaflets, the yellowing of
larches, and something vaporous in the low sun, it gains a colour not
unlike that of the lands we seek. By the side of the lake at Silvaplana
the light was strong and warm, but mellow. Pearly clouds hung over the
Maloja, and floating overhead cast shadows on the opaque water, which
may literally be compared to chrysoprase. The breadth of golden, brown,
and russet tints upon the valley at this moment adds softness to its
lines of level strength. Devotees of the Engadine contend that it
possesses an austere charm beyond the common beauty of Swiss landscape;
but this charm is only perfected in autumn. The fresh snow on the
heights that guard it helps. And then there are the forests of dark
pines upon those many knolls and undulating mountain-flanks beside the
lakes. Sitting and dreaming there in noonday sun, I kept repeating to
myself _Italiam petimus!_
A hurricane blew upward from the pass as we left Silvaplana, ruffling
the lake with gusts of the Italian wind. By Silz Maria we came in sight
of a dozen Italian workmen, arm linked in arm in two rows, tramping in
rhythmic stride, and singing as they went. Two of them were such
nobly-built young men, that for a moment the beauty of the landscape
faded from my sight, and I was saddened. They moved to their singing,
like some of Mason's or Frederick Walker's figures, with the free grace
of living statues, and laughed as we drove by. And yet, with all their
beauty, industry, sobriety, intelligence, these Italians of the northern
valleys serve the sterner people of the Grisons like <DW64>s, doing
their roughest work at scanty wages.
So we came to the vast Alpine wall, and stood on a bare granite slab,
and looked over into Italy, as men might lean from the battlements of a
fortress. Behind lies the Alpine valley, grim, declining slowly
northward, with wind-lashed lakes and glaciers sprawling from
storm-broken pyramids of gneiss. Below spread the unfathomable depths
that lead to Lombardy, flooded with sunlight, filled with swirling
vapour, but never wholly hidden from our sight. For the blast kept
shifting the cloud-masses, and the sun streamed through in spears and
bands of sheeny rays. Over the parapet our horses dropped, down through
sable spruce and amber larch, down between tangles of rowan and autumnal
underwood. Ever as we sank, the mountains rose--those sharp embattled
precipices, toppling spires, impendent chasms blurred with mist, that
make the entrance into Italy sublime. Nowhere do the Alps exhibit their
full stature, their commanding puissance, with such majesty as in the
gates of Italy; and of all those gates I think there is none to compare
with Maloja, none certainly to rival it in abruptness of initiation into
the Italian secret. Below Vico Soprano we pass already into the violets
and blues of Titian's landscape. Then come the purple boulders among
chestnut trees; then the double dolomite-like peak of Pitz Badin and
Promontogno.
It is sad that words can do even less than painting could to bring this
window-scene at Promontogno before another eye. The casement just frames
it. In the foreground are meadow <DW72>s, thinly, capriciously planted
with chestnut trees and walnuts, each standing with its shadow cast upon
the sward. A little farther falls the torrent, foaming down between
black jaws of rain-stained granite, with the wooden buildings of a
rustic mill set on a ledge of rock. Suddenly above this landscape soars
the valley, clothing its steep sides on either hand with pines; and
there are emerald isles of pasture on the wooded flanks; and then
cliffs, where the red-stemmed larches glow; and at the summit, shooting
into ether with a swathe of mist around their basement, soar the double
peaks, the one a pyramid, the other a bold broken crystal not unlike the
Finsteraarhorn seen from Furka. These are connected by a snowy saddle,
and snow is lying on their inaccessible crags in powdery drifts.
Sunlight pours between them into the ravine. The green and golden
forests now join from either side, and now recede, according as the
sinuous valley brings their lines together or disparts them. There is a
sound of cow-bells on the meadows; and the roar of the stream is dulled
or quickened as the gusts of this October wind sweep by or slacken.
_Italiam petimus!_
_Tangimus Italiam!_ Chiavenna is a worthy key to this great gate Italian.
We walked at night in the open galleries of the cathedral-cloister--white,
smoothly curving, well-proportioned logge, enclosing a green space, whence
soars the campanile to the stars. The moon had sunk, but her light still
silvered the mountains that stand at watch round Chiavenna; and the castle
rock was flat and black against that dreamy background. Jupiter, who
walked so lately for us on the long ridge of the Jacobshorn above our
pines, had now an ample space of sky over Lombardy to light his lamp in.
Why is it, we asked each other, as we smoked our pipes and strolled, my
friend and I;--why is it that Italian beauty does not leave the spirit so
untroubled as an Alpine scene? Why do we here desire the flower of some
emergent feeling to grow from the air, or from the soil, or from humanity
to greet us? This sense of want evoked by Southern beauty is perhaps the
antique mythopoeic yearning. But in our perplexed life it takes another
form, and seems the longing for emotion, ever fleeting, ever new,
unrealised, unreal, insatiable.
II.--OVER THE APENNINES.
At Parma we slept in the Albergo della Croce Bianca, which is more a
bric-a-brac shop than an inn; and slept but badly, for the good folk of
Parma twanged guitars and exercised their hoarse male voices all night
in the street below. We were glad when Christian called us, at 5 A.M.,
for an early start across the Apennines. This was the day of a right
Roman journey. In thirteen and a half hours, leaving Parma at 6, and
arriving in Sarzana at 7.30, we flung ourselves across the spine of
Italy, from the plains of Eridanus to the seashore of Etruscan Luna. I
had secured a carriage and extra post-horses the night before; therefore
we found no obstacles upon the road, but eager drivers, quick relays,
obsequious postmasters, change, speed, perpetual movement. The road
itself is a noble one, and nobly entertained in all things but
accommodation for travellers. At Berceto, near the summit of the pass,
we stopped just half an hour, to lunch off a mouldly hen and six eggs;
but that was all the halt we made.
As we drove out of Parma, striking across the plain to the _ghiara_ of
the Taro, the sun rose over the austere autumnal landscape, with its
withered vines and crimson haws. Christian, the mountaineer, who at home
had never seen the sun rise from a flat horizon, stooped from the box to
call attention to this daily recurring miracle, which on the plain of
Lombardy is no less wonderful than on a rolling sea. From the village of
Fornovo, where the Italian League was camped awaiting Charles VIII. upon
that memorable July morn in 1495, the road strikes suddenly aside, gains
a spur of the descending Apennines, and keeps this vantage till the
pass of La Cisa is reached. Many windings are occasioned by thus adhering
to aretes, but the total result is a gradual ascent with free prospect
over plain and mountain. The Apennines, built up upon a smaller scale
than the Alps, perplexed in detail and entangled with cross sections and
convergent systems, lend themselves to this plan of carrying highroads
along their ridges instead of following the valley.
What is beautiful in the landscape of that northern water-shed is the
subtlety, delicacy, variety, and intricacy of the mountain outlines.
There is drawing wherever the eye falls. Each section of the vast
expanse is a picture of tossed crests and complicated undulations. And
over the whole sea of stationary billows, light is shed like an ethereal
raiment, with spare colour--blue and grey, and parsimonious green--in
the near foreground. The detail is somewhat dry and monotonous; for
these so finely moulded hills are made up of washed earth, the immemorial
wrecks of earlier mountain ranges. Brown villages, not unlike those of
Midland England, low houses built of stone and tiled with stone, and
square-towered churches, occur at rare intervals in cultivated hollows,
where there are fields and fruit trees. Water is nowhere visible except
in the wasteful river-beds. As we rise, we break into a wilder country,
forested with oak, where oxen and goats are browsing. The turf is starred
with lilac gentian and crocus bells, but sparely. Then comes the highest
village, Berceto, with keen Alpine air. After that, broad rolling downs
of yellowing grass and russet beech-scrub lead onward to the pass La Cisa.
The sense of breadth in composition is continually satisfied through this
ascent by the fine-drawn lines, faint tints, and immense air-spaces of
Italian landscape. Each little piece reminds one of England; but the
geographical scale is enormously more grandiose, and the effect of majesty
proportionately greater.
From La Cisa the road descends suddenly; for the southern escarpment of
the Apennines, as of | 278.711081 | 1,330 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Mate of the Lily; Notes from Harry Musgrave's Log Book, by W H G
Kingston.
________________________________________________________________________
This is another book by Kingston on the theme of a youngster whose
father has not returned from a voyage at sea, and whose mother therefore
is almost destitute, with several younger children to house and feed.
Luckily her brother Jack, the Mate of the Lily, is home, and though
pledged in marriage, offers to provide for the family, taking the
eldest, Harry, with him as an apprentice officer. They are to look for
a return cargo in the Java Seas and thereabouts, and use the
opportunity, following certain clues, to search for Captain Musgrave and
his vessel.
There are all sorts of vicissitudes, from storm, volcanoes, grounding,
and persistent attacks by the pirates that infest those seas.
Needless to say they find him, though practically at the end of his
life, from despair. On being found he recovers his spirits, and so is
brought home.
It is well-written, and full of suspense. There are other twists to the
story that I have not mentioned above, and I am sure you would enjoy
reading the book or listening to it.
________________________________________________________________________
THE MATE OF THE LILY, NOTES FROM HARRY MUSGRAVE'S LOG BOOK, BY W H G
KINGSTON.
CHAPTER ONE.
Jack Radburn, mate of the "Lily," was as prime a seaman as ever broke
biscuit. Brave, generous, and true, so said all the crew, as did also
Captain Haiselden, with whom he had sailed since he had first been to
sea. Yet so modest and gentle was he on shore that, in spite of his
broad shoulders and sun-burnt brow, landsmen were apt to declare that
"butter wouldn't melt in his mouth."
A finer brig than the "Lily" never sailed from the port of London. Well
built and well found--many a successful voyage had she made to far
distant seas. Jack Radburn might have got command of a larger craft,
but Captain Haiselden, who had nursed him through a fever caught on the
coast of Africa, and whose life on another occasion he had saved, thus
closely cementing their friendship, begged him to remain with him for
yet another voyage, likely to be the most adventurous they had ever yet
undertaken.
Jack Radburn, who was my uncle, stayed when on shore--not often many
weeks together--with his sister, Mrs Musgrave, my mother.
Though he was my uncle, I have spoken of him as Jack Radburn, mate of
the "Lily," as did everybody else; indeed, he was, I may say, as well
known as the captain himself. My mother, who was the daughter of a
clergyman long since dead, had not many acquaintances. She had been
left by my grandfather with little or nothing to depend upon, when her
brother introduced to her my father, then first mate of the ship to
which he belonged.
Her greatest friend was Grace Bingley, who lived with her mother, wife
of a ship-master, a few doors off from us.
Uncle Jack had consequently seen much of Grace Bingley, and had given
her the whole of his warm honest heart, nor was it surprising that he
had received hers in return, and pretty tightly he held it too. Even my
mother acknowledged that she was worthy of him, for a sweeter or more
right-minded girl was not, far or near, to be found.
Some four years before the time of which I am now speaking, my father
sailed in command of a fine ship, the "Amphion," for the Eastern seas.
The time we had expected him to return had long passed away. My mother
did not, however, give up all expectation of seeing him, but day after
day and week after week we looked for him in vain. The owners at last
wrote word that they feared the ship had been lost in a typhoon, but yet
it was possible that she might have been cast away on some uninhabited
island from whence the crew could not effect their escape. My mother
therefore still hoped on and endeavoured to eke out her means so as to
retain her house that my father might find a home should he return.
I was setting off with Uncle Jack for the "Lily," which was undergoing a
thorough repair, and he seldom failed to pay her one or two visits in
the day to see how things were going on, when two seamen came rolling up
the street towards us in sailor fashion, and looking, it seemed to me,
as if they had been drinking, though they may not have been exactly | 279.155556 | 1,331 |
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Produced by Richard Tonsing, Greg Bergquist and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Early Western Travels
1748-1846
Volume XVII
Early Western Travels
1748-1846
A Series of Annotated Reprints of some of the best
and rarest contemporary volumes of travel, descriptive
of the Aborigines and Social and
Economic Conditions in the Middle
and Far West, during the Period
of Early American Settlement
Edited with Notes, Introductions, Index, etc., by
Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.
Editor of "The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents," "Original
Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition," "Hennepin's
New Discovery," etc.
Volume XVII
Part IV of James's Account of S. H. Long's Expedition
1819-1820
[Illustration]
Cleveland, Ohio
The Arthur H. Clark Company
1905
COPYRIGHT 1905, BY
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The Lakeside Press
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY
CHICAGO
CONTENTS OF VOLUME XVII
CHAPTER I [IX of Vol. III, original ed.]--Journey from
Belle Point to Cape Girardeau. Cherokee Indians.
Osage War. Regulator's Settlements of White River 11
CHAPTER II [X of Vol. III]--Hot Springs of the Washita.
Granite of the Cove. Saline River 42
CHAPTER III [XI of Vol. III]--Red River. Exploring
Expedition of 1806. Return to the Arkansa. Earthquakes 61
A General Description of the Country traversed by the exploring
Expedition. _Stephen Harriman Long_ 94
Observations on the Mineralogy and Geology of a Part of the
United States west of the Mississippi. _Augustus Edward
Jessup_ 183
Calculations of Observations made... on a tour from
the Council Bluffs on the Missouri River, westward along
the river Platte to its head waters in the Rocky Mountains,--thence
southwardly to the head waters of the
Arkansa and Canadian rivers, and down said rivers to
Belle Point, performed in 1820. [From Philadelphia
edition, 1823]. _Stephen Harriman Long_, and _William
Henry Swift_ 256
Vocabularies of Indian Languages [from Philadelphia edition,
1823]. _Thomas Say_ 289
ILLUSTRATION TO VOLUME XVII
Vertical Section on the Parallel of Latitude 41 degrees North;
and on the Parallel of Latitude 35 degrees North 185
PART IV OF JAMES'S ACCOUNT OF S. H. LONG'S EXPEDITION, 1819-1820
Chapters ix, x, and xi, General Description of the Country, and
Observations on the Mineralogy and Geology, reprinted from
Volume III of London edition, 1823
Calculations of Observations by Long and Swift, reprinted from
Part II, Volume II, Philadelphia edition, 1823
Vocabularies of Indian Languages, by Say, reprinted from Volume
II, Philadelphia edition, 1823
EXPEDITION FROM PITTSBURGH TO THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS
[PART IV]
{124} CHAPTER I [IX][1]
Journey from Belle Point to Cape Girardeau--Cherokee
Indians--Osage War--Regulator's Settlements of
White River.
The opportunity afforded by a few days residence at Fort Smith,
was seized for the purpose of ascertaining, by several successive
observations, the latitude and longitude of the place. The results
of several observations of the sun's meridian altitude, and of lunar
distances, had between the 14th and 19th September, give for the
latitude of Belle Point, 34° 50´ 54˝, and for the longitude 94° 21´
west of Greenwich.[2]
On the 19th, Captain Bell left the fort to proceed on his way to Cape
Girardeau,[3] accompanied by Dougherty and Oakly, two of the engagees
whose services were no longer required. On the 20th, Doctor James
and Lieutenant Swift departed in company with Captain Kearny,[4] who
had visited the post in the discharge of his duties as inspector and
pay-master. It was the design of this party to descend the Arkansa to
the Cherokee agency, and to proceed thence to the hot springs of the
Washita.
On the 21st, the party, now consisting of Major Long, Messrs. Say,
Seymour and Peale, accompanied by Wilson, Adams, Duncan, and Sweney,
the other soldiers being left at the fort, commenced their journey
towards Cape Girardeau. We took with us five horses and five mules,
two of the latter being loaded with packs. Captain Ballard kindly
volunteered his services as guide, and, attended by a servant,
accompanied us the first day's journey on our march.
{125} Our route lay on the south side of the Arkansa, at considerable
distance from the river, and led us across two small creeks--one called
the Mussanne or Massern, and the other the Vache Grasse.[5] The latter
stream has a course of several miles, but during the dry season,
discharges very little water. The small path we followed lay for the
most part through open woods of post oak, black jack, and hickory,
occasionally traversing a narrow prairie. In these open plains, now
covered with rank grass and weeds, we discovered here and there some
traces, such as a skull or a hoof of a bison, indicating that the
undisputed possession of man to these regions had been of a very recent
date.
It was near five o'clock when we arrived at the solitary cabin of a
settler, and though we found no inhabitant about the place, we halted,
and encamped near the spring. Our horses were scarce unsaddled, when a
man, who seemed to be the occupant of the house, came up, and informed
us, that half a mile further on our way, we should find a house and
good accommodations. Accordingly, we again mounted our horses, and
rode on to "Squire Billingsby's," as our destined host was entitled,
where we met a very hospitable reception.[6] As the night approached,
we observed that several young women and men, the sons and daughters
of the family, disappeared, going to the cottages of the neighbours
(the nearest of which seemed to be the one we had passed) to spend the
night, that they might leave their beds for our use. Our hospitable
landlord had many swarms of bees, some of which had been taken from
the neighbouring forests. Wishing to make the addition of some honey
to the bountiful table spread for our entertainment, he went with a
light, and carefully removing the top of one of the hives, took out
as much of the comb as he wished, and then replaced the top without
killing or injuring the bees. In this manner, he assured us, honey may
{126} at any time be taken without destroying the insects, who will, if
the season admits, speedily make up the deficiency thus produced. Some
feather beds having been given up by their ordinary occupants expressly
for our use, we could not well avoid accepting the accommodation thus
offered, but instead of proving an indulgence, we found the use of them
partook more of the nature of a punishment. We spent an unquiet and
almost sleepless night, and arose on the following morning unrefreshed,
and with a painful feeling of soreness in our bones, so great a change
had the hunter's life produced upon our habits. Those of the party who
spread their blankets, and passed the night on the floor of the cabin,
rested much more pleasantly.
On the succeeding morning, Captain Ballard returned to Belle Point, and
we resumed our journey, accompanied by one of the sons of our landlord,
who undertook to guide us on our way, until we should fall in with
a path which we might continue to follow. We passed through a hilly
country, crossing two creeks, heretofore called the Middle and Lower
Vache Grasse. At the distance of four or five miles from the Arkansa,
on each side, the country is broken and mountainous, several of the
summits rising to an elevation of near two thousand feet above the
surface of the water. Several trees which stood near our path had been
in part stripped of their bark, and the naked trunks were marked with
rude figures, representing horses, men, deer, dogs, &c. These imperfect
paintings, done with charcoal, and sometimes touched with a little
vermilion, appeared to be historic records, designed to perpetuate,
or at least to communicate the account of some exploit in hunting, a
journey, or some similar event. We have already remarked, that this
method of communication is sufficiently understood by the Indians, to
be made the vehicle of important intelligence.
A little before sunset we arrived at a settlement on the stream, called
Short Mountain Bayou. The little {127} cabin we found occupied by two
soldiers belonging to the garrison, who were on their return from the
settlement at Cadron, whither they had been sent with letters on our
arrival at Fort Smith, Cadron being the nearest post-town. We had
expected letters from our friends by the return of the express, but
were disappointed.[7]
The soldiers informed us, that the house in which they had quartered
themselves for the night, had been for a week or two deserted, since
its proprietor had died, and his wife, who was sick, had been removed
to the nearest settlement. The place is called the Short Mountain
Settlement,[8] from a high ridge of sandstone, a little to the
north-west, rising in the form of a parallelogram to an elevation of
about twelve hundred feet.[9] Its sides are abrupt, and in many places,
particularly towards the summit, perpendicular. The summit is broad
and nearly tabular, being covered with small trees, among which the
red cedar, or some other ever-green tree, predominates. The plantation
is somewhat elevated on a rocky eminence, at a little distance from
the creek, but it is surrounded on all sides, save one, by the heavily
wooded low grounds, in which we are to look for the causes whose
operation have made it so soon desolate. Short Mountain Bayou, if we
may judge from the depth and width of its channel, and the extent of
its low grounds, is a large stream, or rather one which drains an
extensive surface, but at this time it exhibited a succession of green
and stagnant pools, connected by a little brook, almost without any
perceptible current. On the surface of these pools, we saw the floating
leaves of the nymphæa kalmiana, some utricularias, and other aquatic
plants.
{128} September, 23d. After leaving the wide and fertile bottoms
of the Short Mountain Bayou, our path lay across high and rocky
hills, altogether covered with woods. The upland forests are almost
exclusively of oak, with some little intermixture of hickory, dogwood
and black gum. They are open, and the ground is in part covered with
coarse grasses.
At noon we arrived at the Cherokee settlements on Rocky Bayou, and were
received with some hospitality at the house of the metif chief, known
by the name of Tom Graves. Though entirely an Indian in his character
and habits, he has the colour and features of an European, and it was
not without some difficulty we could be made to believe that he was
in reality allied by birth to the people among whom he holds the rank
of a chief. His house, as well as many we passed before we arrived at
it, is constructed like those of the white settlers, and like them
surrounded with enclosed fields of corn, cotton, sweet potatoes, &c.,
with cribs, sheds, droves of swine, flocks of geese, and all the usual
accompaniments of a thriving settlement.
Graves, our landlord, though unable to speak or understand our
language, held some communications with us by means of signs,
occasionally assisted by a black girl, one of his slaves, who
interpreted the Cherokee language. He told us, among other things, that
the Osages do not know how to fight; that the Cherokees were now ready
to give up the Osage prisoners, if the Osages would deliver into their
hands the individuals who had formerly killed some of the Cherokees,
&c. He has shown his admiration of military prowess, by calling one of
his children Andrew Jackson Graves. He treated us with a good degree
of attention, and showed himself well acquainted with the manner of
making amends by extravagant charges. Our dinner was brought in by
black slaves, and consisted of a large boiled buffaloe fish, a cup of
coffee, corn bread, {129} milk, &c. Our host and his wife, of unmixed
aboriginal race, were at table with us, and several slaves of African
descent were in waiting. The Cherokees are said to treat their slaves
with much lenity. The part of the nation now residing on the Arkansa,
have recently removed from a part of the state of Tennessee. They are
almost exclusively agriculturists, raising large crops of corn and
cotton, enough for clothing their families, which they manufacture in
their own houses.
After dinner we proceeded a few miles, taking with us one of Graves's
sons as a guide, who led us to a place affording good pasture for our
horses. Here we encamped.
September 24th. From the settlement of the Cherokees, at Rocky Bayou,
our route lay towards the south-east, across the succession of rocky
hills, sparingly wooded with oak, intermixed with the cornus porida,
attaining an unusual magnitude.
As we descended towards the Arkansa, we perceived before us the cabins
and plantations of another settlement of Cherokees. Passing near a
wretched and neglected tenement, we observed a white man, who appeared
to be the occupant, and called upon him to direct us to the place
where, as we had been told, the river could be forded. It was not until
we had repeated our request several times, that he seemed disposed to
give any attention. He then approached at a snail's pace, and setting
himself down upon the ground, drawled out his direction, terminating
each word with a long and hearty yawn. The depression and misery which
seemed written on his features, and the sallowness of his complexion,
convinced us that disease, as well as native indolence, had some share
in occasioning the apparent insolence he had shewn, and cured us of any
wish we might have felt to reproach him.
Following a winding pathway, which led through deep-tangled thickets
and heavy cane-brakes, we {130} arrived at the ford, and crossing
without difficulty, halted at the settlement of Walter Webber,[10] a
young chief of the Cherokees.
Here we found the gentlemen of our party who had left the garrison
before us.
The chiefs of the Cherokee nation had called a grand council, to meet
at Point Pleasant the day after our arrival there, to adopt measures to
forward the negotiations for peace with the Osages, with whom they had
been at variance for many years. The origin of the quarrel, existing
between these powerful and warlike nations, is by some referred to the
period of the American revolution, when the Osages killed a number of
refugees, who had fled to them for protection. Among these were some
Cherokees, some Indians of mixed breed, and it is said some Englishmen,
to whom the success of the American arms rendered unsafe a longer
residence in the country then occupied by the Cherokee nation. Whether
the outrage thus alleged against the Osages was in fact committed, it
is not at this time easy to determine. It appears, however, agreeably
to the information we have been able to collect, that of late years the
Cherokees have almost uniformly been the aggressors, while the abuses
of the Osages, so loudly complained of, both by the Cherokees and the
Whites, have been acts of retaliation. A large number of Cherokees
now live on the south side of the Arkansa, upon lands claimed by the
Osages; and all the Cherokees of the Arkansa are in the habit of
hunting and committing depredations upon the Osage hunting grounds. In
1817, the Cherokees, with a number of Delawares, Shawnees,[11] Quapaws,
and eleven American volunteers, the whole amounting to about six
hundred men, made an irruption into the territory of the Osages, having
previously taken measures to quiet the suspicions of their enemies, by
occasional messages, professing a peaceable disposition on their part.
When they had arrived near the village, they {131} sent a deputation to
the Osages, concealing at the same time their numbers and their hostile
intention, and inviting Clermont, the chief, to a council which they
proposed to hold at a little distance from the town. Clermont being
absent on a hunt with the young men of his village, an old Indian,
and one in high standing with his people, was appointed to act in
his stead, and commissioned to conclude a peace with the Cherokees,
according to the wish they had expressed by their messengers. But what
was his surprise, when, on arriving at the spot designated as that at
which the council was to be held, instead of a few chiefs and old men,
as had been represented, he found himself surrounded by the whole armed
force of the Cherokees. He was seized and put to death on the spot. The
design of this act of perfidy had been to effect the destruction of
Clermont, the bravest and most powerful of the Osages. The Cherokees
then proceeded to the attack of the town, where, on account of the
absence of the efficient men, they encountered little resistance. A
scene of outrage and bloodshed ensued, in which the eleven Americans
are said to have acted a conspicuous and a shameful part. They fired
the village, destroyed the corn and other provisions, of which the
Osages | 279.186612 | 1,332 |
2023-11-16 18:20:25.8720870 | 1,010 | 397 |
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Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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See 41665-h.htm or 41665-h.zip:
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Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
http://archive.org/details/winningtouchdow00chadgoog
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
[Illustration: HE RAISED THE BALL IN HIS ARMS, AND PLACED IT OVER THE
CHALK MARK.]
THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN
A Story of College Football
by
LESTER CHADWICK
Author of "The Rival Pitchers," "A Quarter-Back's
Pluck," "Batting to Win," etc.
Illustrated
New York
Cupples & Leon Company
* * * * *
BOOKS BY LESTER CHADWICK
=THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES=
12mo. Illustrated
Price per volume, $1.00 postpaid
THE RIVAL PITCHERS
A Story of College Baseball
A QUARTER-BACK'S PLUCK
A Story of College Football
BATTING TO WIN
A Story of College Baseball
THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN
A Story of College Football
(Other volumes in preparation)
_Cupples & Leon Company, Publishers, New York_
* * * * *
Copyright 1911, by
Cupples & Leon Company
THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A MYSTERY 1
II MORE BAD NEWS 8
III ON THE TRAIL 19
IV ANOTHER DISAPPEARANCE 26
V FOOTBALL TALK 36
VI IN PRACTICE 43
VII A NEW TIMEPIECE 53
VIII ANOTHER IDEA 61
IX A CLASH WITH LANGRIDGE 67
X THE BIG CALIFORNIAN 73
XI A NEW COMPLICATION 80
XII THE MISSING DEED 89
XIII THE FIRST GAME 98
XIV THE HAZING OF SIMPSON 109
XV THE MIDNIGHT BLAZE 120
XVI ANOTHER CLEW 129
XVII A CRASH IN THE GALE 136
XVIII WITH HAMMER AND SAW 141
XIX SUSPICIONS 150
XX THE CLOCK COMES BACK 158
XXI SEEKING EVIDENCE 167
XXII BASCOME DENIES 173
XXIII HALED TO COURT 181
XXIV DEFEAT 188
XXV BITTER DAYS 200
XXVI MOSES IN PHYSICS 206
XXVII THE DANCE CARD 213
XXVIII THE LEGAL BATTLE 225
XXIX ONE POINT LOST 233
XXX AN UNEXPECTED CLEW 240
XXXI AFTER THE CHAIR 249
XXXII "THIS ISN'T OURS!" 260
XXXIII A GREAT FIND 271
XXXIV THE EXCITED STRANGER 276
XXXV THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN 283
THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN
CHAPTER I
A MYSTERY
"Great Cicero's ghost!"
That was Tom Parson's exclamation.
"It's gone!"
A horrified gasp from Sid Henderson.
"Who took it?"
That was what Phil Clinton wanted to know.
Then the three college chums, who had paused on the threshold of their
room, almost spellbound at the astounding discovery they had made,
advanced into the apartment, as if unable to believe what was only too
evident. Tom came to a halt near his bed, and gazed warily around.
"It's sure enough gone," he went on, with a long breath.
"Somebody pinch me to | 279.191497 | 1,333 |
2023-11-16 18:20:25.9262980 | 1,115 | 413 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Reiner Ruf, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber’s Note:
###################
This e-text is based on the 1908 edition of the book. Minor
punctuation errors have been tacitly corrected. Inconsistencies
in hyphenation and spelling, such as ‘ale-house’/‘alehouse’ and
‘Mary Wilcocks’/‘Mary Willcocks,’ have been retained. The asterism
symbols in the book catalogue at the end of this text have been
inverted for presentation on electronic media.
The following passage has been corrected:
# p. 126: ‘1852’ → ‘1825’
# p. 685: ‘fro mthe’ → ‘from the’
Italic text has been symbolised by underscores (_italic_); forward
slashes represent small caps (/small caps/). Caret symbols (^)
signify superscript characters; multiple characters have been
grouped inside curly braces: ^{superscript}.
DEVONSHIRE CHARACTERS
AND STRANGE EVENTS
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
YORKSHIRE ODDITIES
TRAGEDY OF THE CÆSARS
CURIOUS MYTHS
LIVES OF THE SAINTS
ETC. ETC.
[Illustration:
_G. Clint, A.R.A., pinxt._ _Thos. Lupton. sculpt._
MARIA FOOTE, AFTERWARDS COUNTESS OF HARRINGTON, AS MARIA DARLINGTON IN
THE FARCE OF “A ROWLAND FOR AN OLIVER” (1824)]
DEVONSHIRE
CHARACTERS
AND STRANGE EVENTS
BY S. BARING-GOULD, /M.A./
WITH 55 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
REPRODUCED FROM OLD PRINTS, ETC.
O Jupiter!
Hanccine vitam? hoscine mores? hanc dementiam?
/Terence/, _Adelphi_ (Act IV).
LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMVIII
PLYMOUTH: WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LIMITED, PRINTERS
PREFACE
In treating of Devonshire Characters, I have had to put aside the chief
Worthies and those Devonians famous in history, as George Duke of
Albemarle, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake, Sir Joshua Reynolds,
the Coleridges, Sir Stafford Northcote, first Earl of Iddesleigh, and
many another; and to content myself with those who lie on a lower
plane. So also I have had to set aside several remarkable characters,
whose lives I have given elsewhere, as the Herrings of Langstone (whom
I have called Grym or Grymstone) and Madame Drake, George Spurle the
Post-boy, etc. Also I have had to pretermit several great rascals,
as Thomas Gray and Nicholas Horner. But even so, I find an _embarras
de richesses_, and have had to content myself with such as have had
careers of some general interest. Moreover, it has not been possible to
say all that might have been said relative to these, so as to economize
space, and afford room for others.
So also, with regard to strange incidents, some limitation has been
necessary, and such have been selected as are less generally known.
I have to thank the kind help of many Devonshire friends for the
loan of rare pamphlets, portraits, or for information not otherwise
acquirable--as the Earl of Iddesleigh, Lady Rosamond Christie, Mrs.
Chichester of Hall, Mrs. Ford of Pencarrow, Dr. Linnington Ash, Dr.
Brushfield, Capt. Pentecost, Miss M. P. Willcocks, Mr. Andrew Iredale,
Mr. W. H. K. Wright, Mr. A. B. Collier, Mr. Charles T. Harbeck, Mr.
H. Tapley Soper, Miss Lega-Weekes, who has contributed the article
on Richard Weekes; Mrs. G. Radford, Mr. R. Pearse Chope, Mr. Rennie
Manderson, Mr. M. Bawden, the Rev. J. B. Wollocombe, the Rev. W. H.
Thornton, Mr. A. M. Broadley, Mr. Samuel Gillespie Prout, Mr. S. H.
Slade, Mr. W. Fleming, Mrs. A. H. Wilson, Fleet-Surgeon Lloyd Thomas,
the Rev. W. T. Wellacott, Mr. S. Raby, Mr. Samuel Harper, Mr. John
Avery, Mr. Thomas Wainwright, Mr. A. F. Steuart, Mr. S. T. Whiteford,
and last, but not least, Mr. John Lane, the publisher of this volume,
who | 279.245708 | 1,334 |
2023-11-16 18:20:26.2578060 | 1,025 | 407 | ***
Produced by David Widger.
*THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN*
_By_
*Alexandre Dumas, Pere*
_From the set of Eight Volumes of "Celebrated Crimes"_
1910
CONTENTS
*THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN--1639*
*THE COUNTESS DE SAINT-GERAN--1639*
About the end of the year 1639, a troop of horsemen arrived, towards
midday, in a little village at the northern extremity of the province of
Auvergne, from the direction of Paris. The country folk assembled at the
noise, and found it to proceed from the provost of the mounted police
and his men. The heat was excessive, the horses were bathed in sweat,
the horsemen covered with dust, and the party seemed on its return from
an important expedition. A man left the escort, and asked an old woman
who was spinning at her door if there was not an inn in the place. The
woman and her children showed him a bush hanging over a door at the end
of the only street in the village, and the escort recommenced its march
at a walk. There was noticed, among the mounted men, a young man of
distinguished appearance and richly dressed, who appeared to be a
prisoner. This discovery redoubled the curiosity of the villagers, who
followed the cavalcade as far as the door of the wine-shop. The host
came out, cap in hand, and the provost enquired of him with a swaggering
air if his pothouse was large enough to accommodate his troop, men and
horses. The host replied that he had the best wine in the country to
give to the king's servants, and that it would be easy to collect in the
neighbourhood litter and forage enough for their horses. The provost
listened contemptuously to these fine promises, gave the necessary
orders as to what was to be done, and slid off his horse, uttering an
oath proceeding from heat and fatigue. The horsemen clustered round the
young man: one held his stirrup, and the provost deferentially gave way
to him to enter the inn first. No, more doubt could be entertained that
he was a prisoner of importance, and all kinds of conjectures were made.
The men maintained that he must be charged with a great crime, otherwise
a young nobleman of his rank would never have been arrested; the women
argued, on the contrary, that it was impossible for such a pretty youth
not to be innocent.
Inside the inn all was bustle: the serving-lads ran from cellar to
garret; the host swore and despatched his servant-girls to the
neighbours, and the hostess scolded her daughter, flattening her nose
against the panes of a downstairs window to admire the handsome youth.
There were two tables in the principal eating-room. The provost took
possession of one, leaving the other to the soldiers, who went in turn
to tether their horses under a shed in the back yard; then he pointed to
a stool for the prisoner, and seated himself opposite to him, rapping
the table with his thick cane.
"Ouf!" he cried, with a fresh groan of weariness, "I heartily beg your
pardon, marquis, for the bad wine I am giving you!"
The young man smiled gaily.
"The wine is all very well, monsieur provost," said he, "but I cannot
conceal from you that however agreeable your company is to me, this halt
is very inconvenient; I am in a hurry to get through my ridiculous
situation, and I should have liked to arrive in time to stop this affair
at once."
The girl of the house was standing before the table with a pewter pot
which she had just brought, and at these words she raised her eyes on
the prisoner, with a reassured look which seemed to say, "I was sure
that he was innocent."
"But," continued the marquis, carrying the glass to his lips, "this wine
is not so bad as you say, monsieur provost."
Then turning to the girl, who was eyeing his gloves and his ruff--
"To your health, pretty child."
"Then," said the provost, amazed at this free and easy air, "perhaps I
shall have to beg you to excuse your sleeping quarters."
"What!" exclaimed the marquis, "do we sleep here?"
"My lord;" said the provost, "we have sixteen long leagues to make, our
horses are done up, and so far as I am concerned I declare that I am no
better than my horse."
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_By the same Author._
A LITTLE PILGRIM:
In the Unseen.
Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.
THE LAND OF DARKNESS
[Illustration: colophon]
THE
LAND OF DARKNESS
ALONG WITH SOME
FURTHER CHAPTERS IN THE EXPERIENCES
OF
THE LITTLE PILGRIM
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1888
_All rights reserved_
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE LAND OF DARKNESS 1
THE LITTLE PILGRIM 127
ON THE DARK MOUNTAINS 177
I
THE LAND OF DARKNESS
I found myself standing on my feet, with the tingling sensation of
having come down rapidly upon the ground from a height. There was a
similar feeling in my head, as of the whirling and sickening sensation
of passing downward through the air, like the description Dante gives of
his descent upon Geryon. My mind, curiously enough, was sufficiently
disengaged to think of that, or at least to allow swift passage for the
recollection through my thoughts. All the aching of wonder, doubt, and
fear which I had been conscious of a little while before was gone. There
was no distinct interval between the one condition and the other, nor
in my fall (as I supposed it must have been) had I any consciousness of
change. There was the whirling of the air, resisting my passage, yet
giving way under me in giddy circles, and then the sharp shock of once
more feeling under my feet something solid, which struck yet sustained.
After a little while the giddiness above and the tingling below passed
away, and I felt able to look about me and discern where I was. But not
all at once: the things immediately about me impressed me first--then
the general aspect of the new place.
First of all the light, which was lurid, as if a thunderstorm were
coming on. I looked up involuntarily to see if it had begun to rain; but
there was nothing of the kind, though what I saw above me was a lowering
canopy of cloud, dark, threatening, with a faint reddish tint diffused
upon the vaporous darkness. It was, however, quite sufficiently clear to
see everything, and there was a good deal to see. I was in a street of
what seemed a great and very populous place. There were shops on either
side, full apparently of all sorts of costly wares. There was a
continual current of passengers up and down on both sides of the way,
and in the middle of the street carriages of every description, humble
and splendid. The noise was great and ceaseless, the traffic continual.
Some of the shops were most brilliantly lighted, attracting one’s eyes
in the sombre light outside, which, however, had just enough of day in
it to make these spots of illumination look sickly; most of the places
thus distinguished were apparently bright with the electric or some
other scientific light; and delicate machines of every description,
brought to the greatest perfection, were in some windows, as were also
many fine productions of art, but mingled with the gaudiest and coarsest
in a way which struck me with astonishment. I was also much surprised by
the fact that the traffic, which was never stilled for a moment, seemed
to have no sort of regulation. Some carriages dashed along, upsetting
the smaller vehicles in their way, without the least restraint or order,
either, as it seemed, from their own good sense, or from the laws and
customs of the place. When an accident happened, there was a great
shouting, and sometimes a furious encounter--but nobody seemed to
interfere. This was the first impression made upon me. The passengers on
the pavement were equally regardless. I was myself pushed out of the
way, first to one side, then to another, hustled when I paused for a
moment, trodden upon and driven about. I retreated soon to the doorway
of a shop, from whence with a little more safety I could see what was
going on. The noise made my head ring. It seemed to me that I could not
hear myself think. If this were to go on for ever, I said to myself, I
should soon go mad.
‘Oh no,’ said some one behind me, ‘not at all; you will get used to it;
you will be glad of it. One does not want to hear one’s thoughts; most
of them are not worth hearing.’
I turned round and saw it was the master of the shop, who had come to
the door on seeing me. He had the usual smile of a man who hoped to sell
his wares; but to my horror and astonishment, by some process which I
could not understand, I saw that he was saying to himself, ‘What a d----
d fool! here’s another of those cursed wretches, | 279.643131 | 1,336 |
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HELLENISM
IN
ASIA MINOR
BY
DR. KARL DIETERICH
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
BY
CARROLL N. BROWN, Ph.D.
The College of the City of New York
With an introductory preface by Theodore P. Ion, D.C.L., and
a brief article on Hellenic Pontus by D. H. Oeconomides, Ph.D.
This publication is due to the generosity of
EURIPIDES KEHAYA of New York
PUBLISHED FOR THE
AMERICAN-HELLENIC SOCIETY
105 WEST 40TH STREET, NEW YORK, N. Y.
BY
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS AMERICAN BRANCH
35 WEST 32ND STREET, NEW YORK
1918
COPYRIGHT 1918
BY THE
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
AMERICAN BRANCH
THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS
RAHWAY, N. J.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I A SURVEY OF HELLENISM IN ASIA MINOR 1
II HELLENISM IN ASIA MINOR—By Karl Dieterich,
of the University of Leipzig, translated by
Carroll N. Brown, Ph.D., of the College of
the City of New York. With a preface by
Theodore P. Ion, D.C.L. 8
III HELLENIC PONTUS—A Résumé of its History, by
D. H. Oeconomides, Ph.D. 56
AMERICAN-HELLENIC NEWS 63
A SURVEY OF HELLENISM IN ASIA MINOR
Asia Minor is the country which, more than all others, recalls the
highest development of Hellenic civilization. Its deeply indented coast
formed a chaplet of Hellenic democracies which reached out into the
interior and actually attacked the Persian civilization, upon which
they imposed their own stamp. These democracies constituted the first
rampart of the civilized world of that time, holding back Persian
barbarism. Their history is one of continual struggle between these
two civilizations, a struggle that was terminated at Salamis and at
Platæa, where the Persian ambitions were definitively buried and Greek
civilization saved.
The wise men, the thinkers, the philosophers, that these democracies
produced, were numerous, and the influence of their teachings was very
great. These even today are radiant with a sublimity that has never
been excelled.
It was in this Greek element and among the populations Hellenized by
them that Christianity first germinated. It was the Greeks of Asia
Minor who first offered their blood for the triumph of the new faith.
The foremost Church Fathers, John Chrysostom, Saint Basil and very many
others, were born there or taught there.
Throughout the Middle Ages the Byzantine-Greek civilization flourished
in these lands. It formed the most powerful barrier against the wave
of barbarism which threatened to inundate the civilized world. The
desperate resistance offered by Hellenism permitted the West, by its
contact with Byzantine Hellenism, to acquire those requisite elements
which have formed the basis of Western civilization.
When the powerful tide of Turkish invasion, coming after so many
other barbarian inroads, completely submerged Greek culture there,
the Hellenic idea which this element represented was so strong that
it survived everything. It was in vain that the fierce conquerors,
as the tradition states, cut out the tongues of the inhabitants in
order to cause this people to unlearn its language; it was in vain
that they carried away their children to make of them fierce and cruel
janissaries, who became exterminators of their own people. The Hellenic
idea, the attachment to national traditions, was never submerged.
As soon as the fury of the conqueror was somewhat appeased, and at
a time when that part of the Balkan Peninsula where Hellenism first
arose and from which later it radiated over the then known world all
the brilliance of its beauty was no longer showing any sign of life,
the Greeks of Asia Minor founded the first Greek school of modern
times, that of Cydonia (Aïvali). This school produced the first real
ecclesiastics, the first genuinely educated men. Smyrna, called by the
Turk himself “the infidel city,” because of its preponderant Greek
element, followed her example. The graduates of these schools formed
the nucleus from which the idea of the Greek renaissance sprang forth.
From this source have come the men that have sacrificed their lives and
their fortunes in order that Hellenic culture, which seemed forever to
have disappeared, might again be revived.
It is this country of which we are going to study the ethnological
composition.
Its boundaries are, on the north, the Black Sea; on the east, the
Russian frontier traversing the snow-covered mountain range of the
Taurus and Antitaurus and continuing to the Gulf of Alexandretta; on
the south, west and northwest, the Mediterranean, the Ægean Sea and the
Sea of Marmora.
Its area is 534,550 square kilometers; it is traversed by numerous
watercourses and is one of the richest countries in the world. If well
administered, it could support tens of millions of inhabitants.
It is divided for | 279.679783 | 1,337 |
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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 quia cultus adest, nec nostros mansit in Annos,
Rusticitas Priscis illa superstes avis._
_Ovid_ de Arte Amandi. _Lib. 3._
_London,_ Printed for John Harris at the Harrow
in the _Poultry_, 1691.
ADVERTISEMENT
There is newly published _The Present State of Europe_; or, _The
Historical and Political Mercury_: Giving an Account of all the publick
and private Occurrences that are most considerable in every Court, for
the Months of _August_ and _September_, 1690. With curious _Reflections_
upon every State. To be continued Monthly from the Original, published
at the _Hague_ by the Authority of the States of _Holland_ and
_West-Friesland_. Sold by John Harris at the Harrow in the _Poultrey_.
There is newly published _A plain Relation of the late Action at Sea_,
between the _English_ and _Dutch_, and the _French_ Fleets, from _June_
22th. to _July_ 5th. last: With _Reflections_ thereupon, and upon the
Present State of the Nation, _&c._
Written by the Author of the _Reflections upon the last Years
Occurrences_, &c. _London_, Printed for John Harris at the Harrow in the
_Poultrey_, Price 1 _s._
THE
PREFACE.
Ladies,
_In the Tacker together of Mundus Muliebris, As it was a very great
Piece of ill Manners, to unlock your Dressing-Rooms without your Leave,
so was it no less indecent in him to expose your Wardrobes to the World,
especially in such a Rhapsody of Rhime Doggeril as looks much more like
an Inventory than a Poem; however, he has only pilfer'd away the Names
of your Varieties without doing ye any other Mischief; for there is
nothing to be found in all his Index, nor his Dictionary neither, but
what becomes a Person of Quality to give, and a Person of Quality to
receive; and indeed, considering how frail the mortal Estates of mortal
Gentlemen are, it argues but a common Prudence in Ladies to take
Advantage of the Kindness of their Admirers_; to make Hay while the Sun
shines; _well knowing how often they are inveigl'd out of their
Jointures upon all Occasions: Besides, it is a_ _general Desire in Men,
that their Ladies should keep Home, and therefore it is but reasonable
they should make their Homes as delightful as it is possible; and
therefore this Bubble of an Inventory is not to be thought the Effect of
general Repentance, among your Servants and Adorers, but the capricious
Malice of some Person envious of the little Remunerations of your
Kindnesses for being disbandded from your Conversation; little indeed,
considering the Rewards due to your Merits, otherwise it would be the
greatest Injustice upon Earth for the Men to think of reforming the
Women before they reform themselves, who are ten times worse in all
respects, as you will have sufficient to retort upon them when you come
by and by to the Matter._
_But to shew that it is no new thing for Ladies to go gay and gaudy, we
find in Ovid, that the Women made use of great Variety of Colours for
the Silks of which they made their Garments, of which the chiefest in
request among them were Azure, Sea-green, Saffron colour, Violet, Ash
colour, Rose colour, Chesnut, Almond Colour, with several others, as
their Fancy thought fit to make choice; nor were they deny'd | 280.108088 | 1,338 |
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Transcriber's note: Italics text is denoted by _underscores_.
[Illustration]
THE AWAKENING OF THE DESERT
THE AWAKENING
OF THE DESERT
BY
JULIUS C. BIRGE
_With Illustrations_
[Illustration]
RICHARD G. BADGER
THE GORHAM PRESS
BOSTON
_Copyright 1912 by Richard G. Badger_
_All Rights Reserved_
_The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A Call to the Wilderness 11
II "Roll Out" 18
III The Advancing Wave of Civilization 24
IV A River Town of the Day 38
V Our Introduction to the Great Plains 52
VI The Oregon Trail 64
VII Society in the Wilderness 76
VIII Jack Morrow's Ranch 88
IX Men of the Western Twilight 102
X Dan, the Doctor 118
XI Fording the Platte in High Water 133
XII The Phantom Liar of Greasewood Desert 142
XIII The Mystery of Scott's Bluffs 156
XIV The Peace Pipe at Laramie 167
XV Red Cloud on the War Path 186
XVI The Mormon Trail 196
XVII Wild Midnight Revelry in the Caspar Hills 211
XVIII A Night at Red Buttes 223
XIX Camp Fire Yarns at Three Crossings 237
XX A Spectacular Buffalo Chase 252
XXI The Parting of the Ways 267
XXII The Banditti of Ham's Fork 281
XXIII Through the Wasatch Mountains 290
XXIV Why a Fair City Arose in a Desert 303
XXV Some Inside Glimpses of Mormon Affairs 324
XXVI Mormon Homes and Social Life 342
XXVII The Boarding House Train 359
XXVIII Some Episodes in Stock Hunting 380
XXIX Adventures of an Amateur Detective 393
XXX The Overland Stage Line 409
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Trail Through Salt Lake Desert Frontispiece
Facing page
Elk 16
Wild Cat 48
The Oregon Trail, Through Mitchell Pass 64
Chimney Rock, One of the Old Landmarks of the '49 Trail 74
Grizzly Bear 96
Cougar 112
Buffalos 130
Jail Rock and Court House Rock 148
Scott's Bluff, Showing Dome Rock in the Distance 155
The Old Company Quarters at Fort Laramie 184
Sage Brush Growth 202
The Rockies 252
Fremont Peak and Island Lake on the West <DW72> of the
Wind River Range 268
Red Sandstone Cliffs, on Wind River 280
Weber River, Mouth of Echo Canyon 294
Joseph Smith 304
The King of Beaver Island 308
Brigham Young 316
First House Built in Salt Lake City 330
Great Salt Lake 346
Through the Wasatch 360
Dead Man's Falls, Little Cottonwood, Utah 386
Sutter's Fort Before Restoration, Sacramento, Calif 406
First House in Denver 420
THE AWAKENING OF THE DESERT
[Illustration: TRAIL THROUGH SALT LAKE DESERT]
THE AWAKENING OF THE DESERT
CHAPTER I
A Call to the Wilderness
"Will you join us in a camping trip to the Pacific Coast?" This alluring
invitation was addressed to the writer one cold, drizzly night in the
early spring of 1866 by Captain Hill Whitmore, one of a party of six men
who by prearrangement had gathered round a cheerful wood fire in a
village store in Whitewater, Wisconsin.
The regular business of the establishment had ended for the day; the
tight wooden shutters had been placed upon the doors and windows of the
store as was the custom in those times; and the key was now turned in
the lock to prevent intrusions. All the lights had been turned off,
except that of a single kerosene lamp, suspended from the ceiling near
the stove; the gentle glow revealed within a small arc on either side of
the room the lines of shelving filled with bolts of dry goods, but
toward the front and the rear of the long room it was lost in the
darkness. The conditions were favorable for a quiet, und | 280.35765 | 1,339 |
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Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from digital
material generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://www.archive.org/details/exploitsofjuvebe00souviala
There has been some confusion about the authors of
this book. The cover credits Pierre Souvestre and
Marcel Allain, but the title page lists Emile
Souvestre and Marcel Allain. Pierre Souvestre
(1874-1914) and Marcel Allain (1885-1969) were
contemporaries, while Emile Souvestre (1806-1854)
was the great-uncle of Pierre and died before
Marcel Allain was born.
THE EXPLOITS OF JUVE
Being the Second of the Series of the "Fantomas" Detective Tales
by
EMILE SOUVESTRE and MARCEL ALLAIN
New York
Brentano's
1917
Copyright, 1917, by Brentano's
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE COMRADES' TRYST 1
II. ON THE TRACK 14
III. BEHIND THE CURTAIN 22
IV. A WOMAN'S CORPSE 33
V. LOUPART'S ANGER 42
VI. THE LARIBOISIERE HOSPITAL 50
VII. A REVOLVER SHOT 58
VIII. THE SEARCH FOR THE CRIMINAL 64
IX. IN THE REFRIGERATORY 70
X. THE BLOODY SIGNATURE 75
XI. THE SHOWER OF SAND 81
XII. FOLLOWING JOSEPHINE 90
XIII. ROBBERY; AMERICAN FASHION 99
XIV. FLIGHT THROUGH THE NIGHT 107
XV. THE SIMPLON EXPRESS DISASTER 113
XVI. A DRAMA AT THE BERCY WAREHOUSE 118
XVII. ON THE SLABS OF THE MORGUE 131
XVIII. FANTOMAS' VICTIM 142
XIX. THE ENGLISHWOMAN OF BOULEVARD INKERMANN 147
XX. THE ARREST OF JOSEPHINE 153
XXI. AT THE MONTMARTRE FETE 165
XXII. THE PUGILIST'S WHIM 176
XXIII. "STATE'S EVIDENCE" 185
XXIV. A MYSTERIOUS CLASP 192
XXV. THE TRAP 204
XXVI. AT THE HOUSE OF BONARDIN, THE ACTOR 212
XXVII. THE MOTHER SUPERIOR 222
XXVIII. AN OLD PARALYTIC 230
XXIX. THROUGH THE WINDOW 238
XXX. UNCLE AND NEPHEW 245
XXXI. LOVERS AND ACCOMPLICES 256
XXXII. THE SILENT EXECUTIONER 268
XXXIII. A SCANDAL IN THE CLOISTER 280
XXXIV. FANTOMAS' REVENGE 291
EXPLOITS OF JUVE
I
THE COMRADES' TRYST
"A bowl of claret, Father Korn."
The raucous voice of big Ernestine rose above the hubbub in the
smoke-begrimed tavern.
"Some claret, and let it be good," repeated the drab, a big, fair damsel
with puckered eyes and features worn by dissipation.
Father Korn had heard the first time, but he was in no hurry to comply
with the order.
He was a bald, whiskered giant, and at the moment was busily engaged in
swilling dirty glasses in a sink filled with tepid water.
This tavern, "The Comrades' Tryst," had two rooms, each with its
separate exit. Mme. Korn presided over the first in which food and drink
were served. By passing through the door at the far end, and crossing
the inner courtyard of the large seven-story building, the second "den"
was reached--a low and ill-lit room facing the Rue de la Charbonniere,
a street famed in the district for its bad reputation.
At a third summons, Father Korn, who had sized up the girl and the crowd
she was with, growled:
"It'll be two moons; hand over the stuff first."
Big Ernestine rose, and pushing her way to him, began a long argument.
When she stopped to draw a breath, K | 280.432651 | 1,340 |
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THE WORLD BEFORE THEM.
A Novel.
BY
MRS. MOODIE,
AUTHOR OF "ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH."
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
[Illustration]
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1868.
LONDON:
Printed by A. Schulze, 13, Poland Street
THE WORLD BEFORE THEM.
CHAPTER I.
MRS. GILBERT RUSHMERE.
The dinner was so well cooked, and so nicely served, that in spite of
the unusual hour, Mrs. Rowly and her daughter made a very hearty meal.
Mrs. Rushmere's easy chair had been drawn to the head of the table, and
Dorothy sat beside her and carved, Gilbert being unable at present to
cut his own food. Dorothy longed to do it for him, when she observed how
unwillingly his wife performed this necessary service.
"I am a great trouble to you, Sophy," he said; "but directly my arm is
healed, I shall soon learn to help myself, as I have seen others do, who
had met with the same misfortune."
"It is a good thing to have a wife to help you," suggested Mrs. Rowly.
"Yes, but it makes a fellow feel so dependent. He has to submit through
sheer necessity to petticoat government."
"A' don't think that even one arm would make me do that," said Rushmere,
"tho' I believe a' had the best wife in Christendom."
Mrs. Rushmere laughed good-naturedly.
"Oh, Lawrence, men be often under their wives' government, an' as
ignorant of the fact as babies."
"You speak, I suppose, from experience," said Mrs. Gilbert, in her
gentle low voice. "I should have thought the old gentleman a very
difficult person for any wife to manage. I find Gilbert a hard case, in
spite of his one arm."
"There's only one way to rule me, and that's by kindness," returned
Gilbert.
Without meaning it, perhaps, his voice assumed a serious tone, almost
amounting to sadness. He looked up, and his eyes and Dorothy's met;
forcing an appearance of gaiety, he said, "What have you to say on the
subject, Dorothy?"
"I never give an opinion on subjects I know nothing about. I am the only
person in the room who cannot speak from experience. I should think your
plan, however, must be the best."
"It is a pity you have not an opportunity of trying it, Miss, What's
your name," said Mrs. Gilbert, "in which case you might perhaps find out
that kindness can be thrown away."
"I expected to find Dorothy married when I came home," said Gilbert. "I
thought it impossible that the young fellows in the neighbourhood could
suffer her to remain single."
"She waited for you, Gilly, till she found it o' no use," cried Rushmere
passing the bottle to his son.
"Oh that I had waited for her," was the thought that flashed through
Gilbert's mind, charged with a deep regret.
"Father will have his joke," said Dorothy, colouring like a rose,
"without thinking that it may be at the expense of another."
Mrs. Gilbert left off eating, and listened keenly to what was passing.
"Believe me, Gilbert, that there is no one present who congratulates you
more sincerely on your marriage than I do."
"My dear child, will you help me up stairs?" said Mrs. Rushmere,
apprehensive of mischief from her husband's blunt indiscretion and want
of delicacy.
Gilbert rose, and with his left arm supported her to the foot of the
stairs. "Oh, Dorothy," he said, "no wonder that you despise me. God only
knows how I despise myself."
"It is too late to repent now, Gilbert. You must try like me to forget.
You owe it to your wife, as much as to me."
She passed her arm round Mrs. Rushmere's waist, and left Gilbert at the
foot of the stairs. He put the cuff of his empty sleeve to his eyes. Was
it to wipe away a tear?
His wife looked daggers at him, when he returned to the table. His
father proposed a walk round the farm after dinner, an invitation that
Gilbert eagerly accepted, and the mother and daughter were left alone
together.
"We shall have a nice time of it here," said Mrs Gilbert. "Let us go
out, mother, and take a look round the premises. One might as well be in
a prison as confined to this dark, dingy room."
"I can see no garden attached to the place," said Mrs. Rowly, looking
out of the deep bay window which only opened upon the stone-paved court.
"That girl who helped at dinner could tell us all about it."
"Don't call her, mamma, I have a perfect horror of that woman. I am
certain that Gilbert and she have been very intimate. He never took his
eyes off her during dinner."
"You need not be jealous of her, Sophy; I am certain that she cares
nothing for him. You are foolish to trouble your head with any love
affairs he had previous to his marriage."
"But I am sure he cares for her, and I don't mean to play second fiddle
in his father's house to any one but Mrs. Rushmere. If this girl remains
in the house I must quit it."
"And would you like to nurse the sick mother?"
"I hate sick people. Let her hire a nurse."
"She may not be able to do that. I see no indications of wealth here. A
carpetless sanded floor, and furniture old enough to have come out of
the ark. One room which serves for drawing-room, dining-room and
parlour. I dare say these poor people have enough to do to keep
themselves."
"But Gilbert said that his father was rich."
"Pshaw! You see now Gilbert has exaggerated matters."
"But what are we to do? I can't and won't live here."
"Till your debts are paid, you must."
"Oh, dear, I wish I were single again," and Mrs. Gilbert began to cry.
"Sophy, when you were single you were never contented, always lamenting
that you were not married. No one ever asked you to marry until I gave
out that you would have a fortune."
"And what have I gained by that lie?"
"A handsome, honest fellow, if you would only think so. He would not
have been so badly off either, if he had not been forced to sell his
commission to pay your debts. He had a fair chance too, of rising in the
army, if he had not met with that misfortune. I think you very
unreasonable to throw all the blame on him. What now remains for you to
do, is to make yourself agreeable to his parents, and secure a home,
such as it is, for us."
"I can't pretend to like that old man," and Sophy shrugged her
shoulders.
"He's rather an amusing variety of the species," said Mrs. Rowly, "and
the easiest person in the world to cajole. But once more, let me tell
you, Mrs. Gilbert Rushmere, it is no use quarrelling with your bread
and butter. Put on your hat, and let us take a turn in the open air,
perhaps we may chance to meet the gentlemen."
And now they are gone to spy out the nakedness of the land we will tell
our readers a little of their private history, and how the young soldier
was deceived in his fortune-hunting speculation.
Mrs. Rowly was the widow of a custom-house officer, and for many years
lived very comfortably, nay, affluently, upon the spoils which he
gathered illegally in his office. Their only child, Sophia, though very
far from pretty, was a genteel-looking girl, and educated at a
fashionable boarding-school; but just as she arrived at womanhood, the
father was detected in his unlawful pursuits, and so heavily fined, that
it caused his utter ruin, and having incurred heavy debts to keep up an
appearance beyond his station, he ended his days in prison, leaving his
wife and daughter to shift for themselves in the best manner they
could.
With the assistance of a brother, who was in the grocery line of
business, and of whom they had always been ashamed in their more
prosperous days, Mrs. Rowly set up a small boarding-house, in one of the
little cross streets in the Minories, and just contrived to keep her
head above water for several years, until Sophia was turned of
seven-and-twenty. The young lady dressed and flirted, and tried her best
to get a husband, but all her endeavours proved futile.
She was ambitious, too, of marrying a gentleman, and looked down with
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HERO TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE SERBIANS
By
WOISLAV M. PETROVITCH
Late attache to the Serbian Royal Legation to the Court of St. James
With a preface by
CHEDO MIYATOVICH
Formerly Serbian Minister to the Court of St. James
And thirty-two illustrations
In colour by
WILLIAM SEWELL & GILBERT JAMES
To that most Eminent Serbian
Patriot and Statesman
His Excellency
Nicholas P. Pashitch
This book is
respectfully inscribed
by the author
PREFACE
Serbians attach the utmost value and importance to the sympathies of
such a highly cultured, great, and therefore legitimately influential
people as is the British nation. Since the beginning of the twentieth
century there have been two critical occasions [1]--the annexation of
Bosnia and Herzegovina by Austria and the war against the Turks--when
we have had opportunities to note how British sympathies, even when
apparently only platonic, can be of great practical importance for
our nation. It is quite natural that we should desire to retain and
if possible deepen and increase those sympathies. We are proud of our
army, but we flatter ourselves that our nation may win sympathy and
respect by other than military features of its national character. We
wish that our British friends should know our nation such as it is. We
wish them to be acquainted with our national psychology. And nothing
could give a better insight into the very soul of the Serbian nation
than this book.
The Serbians belong ethnologically to the great family of the
Slavonic nations. They are first cousins to the Russians, Poles,
Czechs, Slovaks, and Bulgars, and they are brothers to the Croats
and Slovenes. Since the Church has ceased to be the discordant and
disuniting element in the life of the nations, the Orthodox Serbians
and the Roman Catholic Croats are practically one and the same
people. But of all Slavonic nations the Serbians can legitimately
claim to be the most poetical one. Their language is the richest and
the most musical among all the Slavonic languages. The late Professor
Morfill, a man who was something of a Panslavist, repeatedly said to
me: "I wish you Serbians, as well as all other Slavonic nations, to
join Russia in a political union, but I do not wish you to surrender
your beautiful and well-developed language to be exchanged for the
Russian!" On one occasion he went even so far as to suggest that the
future United States of the Slavs should adopt as their literary and
official language the Serbian, as by far the finest and most musical
of all the Slavonic tongues.
When our ancestors occupied the western part of the Balkan
Peninsula, they found there numerous Latin colonies and Greek towns
and settlements. In the course of twelve centuries we have through
intermarriage absorbed much Greek and Latin blood. That influence, and
the influence of the commercial and political intercourse with Italy,
has softened our language and our manners and intensified our original
Slavonic love of what is beautiful, poetical, and noble. We are a
special Slavonic type, modified by Latin and Greek influences. The
Bulgars are a Slavonic nation of a quite different type, created by
the circulation of Tartar blood in Slavonian veins. This simple fact
throws much light on the conflicts between the Serbians and Bulgarians
during the Middle Ages, and even in our own days.
Now what are the Serbian national songs? They are not songs made by
cultured or highly educated poets--songs which, becoming popular,
are sung by common people. They are songs made by the common people
themselves. Up to the middle of the nineteenth century the Serbian
peasantry lived mostly in agricultural and family associations called
Zadrooga. As M. Petrovitch has stated, the sons of a peasant did
not leave their father's house when they got married, but built a
wooden cottage on the land surrounding the father's house. Very often
a large settlement arose around the original home, with often more
than a hundred persons, men and women, working together, considering
the land and houses as their common property, enjoying the fruits of
their work as the common property too. All the members of the Zadrooga
considered the oldest member of such family association as their chief,
and it was the usual custom to gather round him every evening in the
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Transcriber's Note
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections
is found at the end of the text. Inconsistencies in spelling and
hyphenation have been maintained. A list of inconsistently spelled
and hyphenated words is found at the end of the text.
[Illustration: MARKETING
BEEF.
_Hind Quarter._
1. Sirloin.
2. Rump.
3. Edgebone.
4. Buttock.
5. Mouse Buttock.
6. Veiny Piece.
7. Thick Flank.
8. Thin Flank.
9. Leg.
10. Fore Rib; Five Ribs.
_Fore Quarter._
11. Middle Rib; Four Ribs.
12. Chuck; Three Ribs.
13. Shoulder or Leg of Mutton Piece.
14. Brisket.
15. Clod.
16. Neck or Sticking Piece.
17. Shin.
18. Cheek.
VENISON.
1. Haunch.
2. Neck.
3. Shoulder.
4. Breast.]
THE
AMERICAN HOUSEWIFE:
CONTAINING THE MOST
VALUABLE AND ORIGINAL RECEIPTS
IN ALL THE VARIOUS BRANCHES
OF
COOKERY;
AND
WRITTEN IN A MINUTE AND METHODICAL MANNER.
TOGETHER WITH
A COLLECTION OF MISCELLANEOUS RECEIPTS,
AND DIRECTIONS RELATIVE TO HOUSEWIFERY.
BY AN EXPERIENCED LADY.
ALSO THE
WHOLE ART OF CARVING,
ILLUSTRATED BY
SIXTEEN ENGRAVINGS.
THIRD EDITION.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY DAYTON, AND SAXTON
(SUCCESSORS TO GOULD, NEWMAN, AND SAXTON,)
CORNER OF FULTON AND NASSAU STS.
1841.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1841, by
DAYTON & SAXTON,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New-York.
[Illustration: PLATE.
MUTTON.
1. Leg.
2. Loin, Best End.
3. Loin, Chump End.
4. Neck, Best End.
5. Neck, Scrag End.
6. Shoulder.
7. Breast.
A Chime is two Loins.
A Saddle is two Necks.
VEAL.
1. Loin, Best End.
2. Loin, Chump End.
3. Fillet.
4. Hind Knuckle.
5. Fore Knuckle.
6. Neck, Best End.
7. Neck, Scrag End.
8. Blade Bone.
9. Breast, Best End.
10. Breast, Brisket End.
PORK.
1. The Spare Rib.
2. Hand.
3. Spring.
4. Fore Loin.
5. Hind Loin.
6. Leg.]
PREFACE.
The writer does not deem any apology necessary for adding another to the
long list of gastronomic works, provided she has accomplished the
desirable object of producing a Cook Book which shall commend itself to
all persons of true taste--that is to say, those whose taste has not
been vitiated by a mode of cooking contrary to her own. Although not a
Ude or a Kitchener, she does profess to have sufficient knowledge of the
culinary art, as practised by _good American cooks_, to instruct those
not versed in this truly interesting science.
The inefficiency of most works of this kind are well known to all
experienced housekeepers, they being generally a mere compilation of
receipts, by those who _have no practical knowledge_ of the subject, and
are consequently unable to judge of their correctness, or to give the
necessary directions for _putting_ the ingredients together in the right
manner. A conviction that a _good practical Cook Book_ was much needed,
induced the writer to exert herself to supply the deficiency. She does
not pretend to infallibility, but having taken a great deal of pains to
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOLUME 105, JULY 29TH 1893
_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
MUSCULAR EDUCATION.
[Illustration]
Mr. PUNCH has much pleasure in recommending the following Prospectus
to the notice of parents desirous of finding a thoroughly practical
school where boys are educated according to the real requirements of
modern life.
CLOANTHUS HOUSE, MARKET DREPANUM, OXON.
Mr. J. PEN-RULLOX, M.A. Cambs., and the Rev. WILFRID BAILS, B.A.
Oxon, receive pupils to prepare for the great public schools and
universities.
The well-known qualifications of Mr. PEN-RULLOX, who rowed stroke in
his university boat in the celebrated race at Amwell in 1878, and of
the Rev. Mr. BAILS, who played for Oxford in the famous university
match in the Common Fields in 1882, will be sufficient guarantee that
the boys will be thoroughly well instructed.
Besides Rowing, Cricket, and Football; Swimming, Racquets, Boxing,
and Hockey, are specially attended to by competent Assistant-Masters,
under the personal supervision of the Principals.
Billiards, Lawn-tennis, Poker, Nurr and Spell, and some other minor
games, now too frequently neglected in the education of youth, will
find their due place in the curriculum of Cloanthus House.
It is in contemplation, should a sufficient number of boys show a
marked inclination for such studies, to engage a Board-school Master,
of approved competence, to direct literary and scientific work.
Terms, inclusive, L250 per annum, payable in advance: the only extras
at present being Reading, Writing, Polo, and Arithmetic.
Reference is kindly permitted to the following:--The Right Rev. the
Bishop of ISTHMIA; the Editor of the _Sporting Life_; the Rev. R.
E. D. HORGAN, M.A., Jesurum Col., Cambs; the Sports Editor of the
_Field_; the Warden of Mortlake College, Putney; Dr. S. A. GRACE,
LL.D.; the Hon. and Rev. HURLINGHAM PEEL.
* * * * *
THE BITTER CRY OF THE BROKEN-VOICED CHORISTER.
(_A long way after Tennyson._)
Break, break, break,
O voice on that clear top C!
And I would that my throat could utter
High notes as they used to be.
O well for old BUNDLECOOP'S boy
That he still shouts his full round A!
O well for that tow-headed lad
That he sings in his old clear way.
And the anthems still go on
With boy-trebles sharp and shrill;
But O for _my_ "compass," so high and grand,
And the voice that I _used_ to trill!
Break, break, break,
Like a creaky old gate, top C!
But the high treble notes of a voice that is cracked,
Will never come back to me!
* * * * *
QUEER QUERIES.
THE WHITE CURRENCY QUESTION.--Can nothing be done to prevent the
Indian VICEROY from carrying out his monstrous proposal about the
Rupee? I was just off to Bombay (having recently completed a period
of enforced seclusion in Devonshire, occasioned by a too successful
competition with a monopolist Mint) on the strength of a newspaper
paragraph that "Free Coining of Silver" was permitted in that happy
land. Free Coining! In my opinion it beats "Free Education" hollow,
and is just what I have always wanted. I felt that my fortune was
made, when suddenly the news comes that the free coinage business is
stopped. What an injustice! In the name of the down-trodden Hindoo,
to whom my specially manufactured nickel-and-tin Rupee would have been
quite a new revelation, I protest against this interference with the
immemorial customs of our Oriental fellow-subjects.--JEREMIAH D'IDDLA.
* * * * *
CONTRIBUTED BY OUR OWN WELSH-HARPER'S MAGAZINE.--With the AP MORGANS,
AP RHYS, AP JONES, and many others, Wales is the ideal "'Appy Land."
* * * * *
SEASONABLE.
(_By a future Lord Chancellor._)
The close of the season, the close of the season,
It leaves a man rifled of rhino and reason;
And now, with hot rain and a westerly breeze on,
I don't opine racketing London agrees on
The whole with Society. "_Kyrie Eleison_"
I'll chaunt when I stand with my wife and my wee son
Some windy "Parade" or exuberant "Lees" on,
In the splash of the salt and the flash of the free sun,
And am garbed in a fashion that, sure, would be treason
To Bond Street; and ruminate, sprawling at ease on
The sands with their bands and extempore sprees on.--
"Table d'Hote-ards," repair to your Homburgs or freeze on
Cosmopolitan Alps, and eat kickshaws to tease one;
But _me_ let the <DW65>s marine and the sea's un-
Translateable sing-song, and bathers with d----s on,
Delight, and bare children, their noses and knees on,
Till quite I forget Messrs. WELBY AND MEESON
(Those despots of law) and my failures, and fees un-
Liquidated as yet, and myself--and the season!
* * * * *
AT COVENT GARDEN LAST THUR | 280.7458 | 1,344 |
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MAIDS WIVES AND BACHELORS
by
AMELIA E. BARR
Author of "Jan Vedder's Wife," "A Bow of Orange Ribbon," etc.
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1898
Copyright, 1898,
By Dodd, Mead and Company
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Maids and Bachelors 1
The American Girl 13
Dangerous Letter-Writing 23
Flirts and Flirtation 32
On Falling in Love 38
Engaged To Be Married 47
Shall our Daughters have Dowries? 56
The Ring Upon the Finger 67
Flirting Wives 73
Mothers-in-Law 86
Good and Bad Mothers 97
Unequal Marriages 114
Discontented Women 125
Women on Horseback 145
A Good Word for Xanthippe 155
The Favorites of Men 160
Mothers of Great and Good Men 170
Domestic Work for Women 175
Professional Work for Women 187
Little Children 200
On Naming Children 205
The Children's Table 217
Intellectual "Cramming" of Boys 225
The Servant-Girl's Point of View 231
Extravagance 240
Ought we to Wear Mourning? 248
How To Have One's Portrait Taken 254
The Crown of Beauty 272
Waste of Vitality 281
A Little Matter of Money 288
Mission of Household Furniture 293
People Who Have Good Impulses 302
Worried to Death 307
The Grapes We Can't Reach 313
Burdens 319
Maids and Bachelors
Women who have devoted themselves for religious purposes to celibacy
have in all ages and countries of the world received honor, but those
upon whom celibacy has been forced, either through the influence of
untoward circumstances, or as a consequence of some want or folly in
themselves, have been objects of most unmerited contempt and dislike.
Unmerited, because it may be broadly asserted that until the last
generation no woman in secular and social life remained unmarried from
desire or from conviction. She was the victim of some natural
disadvantage, or some unhappy circumstance beyond her control, and
therefore entitled to sympathy, but not to contempt.
Of course, there are many lovely girls who appear to have every
advantage for matrimony, and who yet drift into spinsterhood. The
majority of this class have probably been imprudent and over-stayed
their market. They have dallied with their chances too long. Suddenly
they are aware that their beauty is fading. They notice that the
suitable marriageable men who hung around them in their youth have
gone away, and that their places are filled with mere callow youths.
Then they realize their mistakes, and are sorry they have thought
being "an awfully silly little thing" and "having a good time" the end
of their existence. Heart-aches and disappointments enough follow for
their punishment; for they soon divine that when women cease to have
men for lovers, and are attended by school-boys, they have written
themselves down already as old maids.
Closely allied to these victims of folly or thoughtlessness are the
women who remain unmarried because of their excessive vanity--or
natural cruelty. "My dear, I was cruel thirty years ago, and no one
has asked me since." This confession from an aunt to her niece, though
taken from a play, is true enough to tell the real story of many an
old maid. Their vanity made them cruel, and their cruelty condemned
them to a lonely, loveless life. Close observation, however, among the
unmarried women of any one's acquaintance will reveal the fact that it
is not from the ranks of silly or cruel women that the majority of old
maids come. Men do not, as a rule, dislike silly women; and by a wise
provision of nature, they are rather fond of marrying pretty, helpless
creatures who cannot help themselves. Neither are cruel women
universally unpopular. Some lovers like to be snubbed, and would not
value a wife they had not to seek upon their knees. There are,
therefore, always chances for the silly and cruel women.
It is the weak, colorless women, who have privately strong prejudices,
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TALES FROM BOHEMIA
By Robert Neilson Stephens
ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS--A MEMORY
One crisp evening early in March, 1887, I climbed the three flights of
rickety stairs to the fourth floor of the old "Press" building to begin
work on the "news desk." Important as the telegraph department was
in making the newspaper, the desk was a crude piece of carpentry. My
companions of the blue pencil irreverently termed it "the shelf." This
was my second night in the novel dignity of editorship. Though my rank
was the humblest, I appreciated the importance of a first step from "the
street." An older man, the senior on the news desk, had preceded me. He
was engaged in a bantering conversation with a youth who lolled at such
ease as a well-worn, cane-bottomed screw-chair afforded. The older man
made an informal introduction, and I learned that the youth with pale
face and serene smile was "Mr. Stephens, private secretary to the
managing editor." That information scarcely impressed me any more
than it would now after more than twenty years' experience of managing
editors and their private secretaries.
The bantering continued, and I learned that the youth cherished literary
aspirations, and that he performed certain work in connection with the
dramatic department for the managing editor, who kept theatrical news
and criticisms within his personal control.
Suddenly a chance remark broke the ice for a friendship between the
young man and me which was to last unbroken until his untimely death.
Stephens wrote the Isaac Pitman phonography! Here had I been for more
than three years wondering to find the shorthand writers of wide-awake
and progressive America floundering in what I conceived to be the
Serbonian bog of an archaic system of stenography. Unexpectedly a
most superior young man came within my ken who was a disciple of Isaac
Pitman. Furthermore, like myself, he was entirely self taught. No old
shorthand writer who can look back a quarter of a century on his own
youthful enthusiasm for the art can fail to appreciate what a bond of
sympathy this discovery constituted. From that night forward we were
chosen friends, confiding our ambitions to each other, discussing the
grave issues of life and death, settling the problems of literature.
Notwithstanding his more youthful appearance, my seniority in age
was but slight. Gradually "Bob," as all his friends called him with
affectionate informality, was given opportunities to advance himself,
under the kindly yet firm guidance of the managing editor, Mr. Bradford
Merrill. That gentleman appreciated the distinct gifts of his young
protege, journalistic and literary, and he fostered them wisely and
well. I remember perfectly the first criticism of an important play
which "Bob" was permitted to write unaided. It was Richard Mansfield's
initial appearance in Philadelphia as "Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde," at the
Chestnut Street Theatre on Monday, October 3, 1887.
After the paper had gone to press, and while Mr. Merrill and a few of
the telegraph editors were partaking of a light lunch, the night editor,
the late R.E.A. Dorr, asked Mr. Merrill "how Stephens had made out."
"He has written a very clever and very interesting criticism," Mr.
Merrill replied. "I had to edit it somewhat, because he was inclined to
be Hugoesque and melodramatic in describing the action with very short
sentences. But I am very much pleased, indeed."
That was the beginning of Bob's career as a dramatic critic, a career
in which he gained authority and in which his literary faculties, his
felicity of expression and soundness of judgment found adequate scope.
In the following two or three years the cultivation of the field of
dramatic criticism occupied his time to the temporary exclusion of his
ambition for creative work. He and I read independently; but our
tastes had much in common, though his preference was for imaginative
literature. Meanwhile I was writing short stories with plenty of plot,
some of which found their way into various magazines; but his taste lay
more in the line of the French short story writers who made an
incident the medium for portraying a character. Historical romance had
fascinations for me, but Alphonse Daudet attracted both of us to the
artistic possibilities that lay in selecting the romance of real life
for treatment in fiction as against the crude and repellent naturalism
of Zola and his school. This fact is not a little significant in view of
the turn toward historical romance which exercised all the activities of
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BAHAMA BILL
Works of
T. JENKINS HAINS
[Illustration]
The Windjammers $1.50
The Black Barque 1.50
The Voyage of the Arrow 1.50
Bahama Bill 1.50
[Illustration]
L.C. PAGE & COMPANY
New England Building
BOSTON MASS.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "_The giant black stood gazing out to sea"_
(_See page 17_)]
BAHAMA BILL
Mate of the Wrecking Sloop
_Sea-Horse_
By
T. Jenkins Hains
Author of "The Black Barque," "The Voyage
of the Arrow," "The Windjammers," etc.
_With a frontispiece in colour by_
H.R. Reuterdahl
[Illustration]
_Boston_: L.C. PAGE &
COMPANY _Mdccccviii_
_Copyright, 1908_
BY L.C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, January, 1908
_COLONIAL PRESS_
_Electrotyped and Printed by C.H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U.S. A._
CONTENTS
PAGE
I. BENEATH THE "BULLDOG'S" BILGE 1
II. THE WRECKER'S REWARD 18
III. THE MATE OF THE "SEA-HORSE" 35
IV. BARNEGAT MACREARY 50
V. AT THE END OF THE REEF 68
VI. THE SANCTIFIED MAN 88
VII. WHEN THE LIGHT FAILED AT CARYSFORT 116
VIII. THE TRIMMING OF MR. DUNN 129
IX. THE SURVIVOR 176
X. ON THE GREAT BAHAMA BANK 196
XI. THE ICONOCLAST 232
XII. JOURNEGAN'S GRAFT 266
XIII. SHANGHAING THE TONG 296
XIV. THE EDGE OF THE RONCADOR 323
XV. THE WRECKER 338
XVI. THE BARRATORS 350
BAHAMA BILL
I
Beneath the "Bulldog's" Bilge
The brig lay in four fathoms of water on the edge of the Great Bahama
Bank. She had been a solid little vessel, built for the fruit trade,
and she was about two hundred tons register. Her master had tried to
sight the "Isaacs," but owing to the darkness and the drift of the
Gulf Stream, he had miscalculated his distance in trying for the New
Providence channel. A "<DW65>-head," a sharp, projecting point of
coral, had poked a hole about four feet in diameter through her bottom,
and she had gone down before they could run her into the shoal water on
the bank.
Down to the graveyard of good ships, Key West, the message was hurried,
and the wreckers of Florida Reef heard the news. A heavily built sloop
of thirty tons, manned by ten Spongers and Conchs, started up the
Florida channel and arrived upon the scene two days later.
The _Bulldog_ had settled evenly upon her keel, but as she was sharp,
she had listed until her masts were leaning well to starboard, dipping
her yardarms deep in the clear water. She was submerged as far up as
her topsail yards.
The captain of the wrecker was a Conch. His mate was a giant <DW64> of
the Keys; young, powerful, and the best diver on the Florida Reef.
His chest measured forty-eight inches in circumference over his
lean pectoral muscles, and he often bent iron bars of one-half inch
to show the set of his vise-like grip. He was almost black, with a
sinister-looking leer upon his broad face, his eyes red and watery like
most of the divers of the Bank. He could remain under four fathoms for
at least three and a half minutes, and work with amazing force, and
continue this terrific strain for six hours on a stretch, with but
five minutes between dives. Half fish or alligator, and | 281.00884 | 1,347 |
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Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Karina Aleksandrova
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: MRS. TREE.]
MRS. TREE
By
Laura E. Richards
_Author of_
"Captain January," "Melody," "Marie," etc.
Boston
Dana Estes & Company
Publishers
_Copyright, 1902_
BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
MRS. TREE
Published June, 1902
Colonial Press
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
To
My Daughter Rosalind
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Wedding Bells 11
II. Phoebe's Opinions 25
III. Introducing Tommy Candy and Solomon, his Grandfather 41
IV. Old Friends 55
V. "But When He Was Yet a Great Way off" 75
VI. The New Postmaster 92
VII. In Miss Penny's Shop 107
VIII. A Tea-party 124
IX. A Garden-party 142
X. Mr. Butters Discourses 161
XI. Miss Phoebe Passes on 175
XII. The Peak in Darien 189
XIII. Life in Death 201
XIV. Tommy Candy, and the Letter He Brought 217
XV. Maria 233
XVI. Doctor Stedman's Patient 249
XVII. Not Yet! 267
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Mrs. Tree Frontispiece
"She put out a finger, and Jocko clawed it without ceremony" | 281.404313 | 1,348 |
2023-11-16 18:20:28.2877120 | 1,179 | 511 | Project Gutenberg Etext The Lock and Key Library, Hawthorne, Ed.
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[Illustration: Copyright 1903 by G. Barrie & Sons]
RAYMOND SURPRISES DORSAN AND NICETTE
_I was determined that he should not, at all events, have time to
scrutinize the girl; I fumbled hastily in my pocket for my key, but
it was entangled in my handkerchief._
NOVELS
BY
Paul de Kock
VOLUME XI
MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND
PRINTED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH
[Illustration]
GEORGE BARRIE'S SONS
THE JEFFERSON PRESS
BOSTON NEW YORK
_Copyrighted, 1903-1904, by G. B. & Sons._
MY NEIGHBOR RAYMOND
I
THE GRISETTE
I was strolling along the boulevards one Saturday evening. I was alone,
and in a meditative mood; contrary to my usual custom, I was indulging
in some rather serious reflections on the world and its people, on the
past and the present, on the mind and the body, on the soul, on thought,
chance, fate, and destiny. I believe, indeed, that I was on the point of
turning my attention to the moon, which was just appearing, and in which
I already saw mountains, lakes, and forests,--for with a little
determination one may see in the moon whatever one pleases,--when, as I
was gazing at the sky, I suddenly collided with a person going in the
opposite direction, whom I had not previously noticed.
"Look where you're going, monsieur; you're very awkward!" at once
remarked a soft, sweet voice, which not even anger deprived of its
charm. I have always had a weakness for pleasant voices; so I instantly
descended from the regions to which I had mounted only for lack of
something better to do, and looked at the person who had addressed me.
It was a girl of sixteen to eighteen years, with a little cap tied under
her chin, a calico dress, and a modest apron of black mohair. She had
every appearance of a young workgirl who had just finished her day's
work and was on her way home. I made haste to look at her face: a
charming face, on my word! Bright, mischievous eyes, a tiny nose, fine
teeth, black hair, and a most attractive ensemble; an expressive face,
too, and a certain charming grace in her bearing. I was forced to
confess that I saw no such pretty things in the moon.
The girl had under her arm a pasteboard box, which I had unwittingly
jostled; she refastened the string with which it was tied, and seemed to
apprehend that the contents had suffered from my awkwardness. I lost no
time in apologizing.
"Really, mademoiselle, I am terribly distressed--it was very awkward of
me."
"It is certain, monsieur, that if you had looked in front of you this
wouldn't have happened."
"I trust that I have not hurt you?"
"Me? oh, no! But I'm afraid that my flowers are crumpled; however, I
will fix them all right at home."
"Ah!" said I to myself; "she's a flowermaker; as a general rule, the
young ladies who follow that trade are not Lucretias; let us see if I
cannot scrape acquaintance with her."
She replaced her box under her arm, and went her way. I walked by her
side, saying nothing at first. I have always been rather stupid about
beginning gallant interviews; luckily, when one has once made a start,
the thing goes of itself. However, from time to time I ventured a word
or two:
"Mademoiselle walks very fast. Won't you take my arm? I should be
delighted to escort you. May I not be permitted to see you again? Do you
go to the theatre often? I could send you tickets, if you chose. Pray
be careful; you will surely slip!" and other polite phrases of that
sort, the conventional thing in nocturnal meetings.
To all this I obtained no reply save:
"Yes, monsieur;" "no, monsieur;" "leave me, I beg you!" "you are wasting
your time;" "don't follow me."
Sometimes she made no reply at all, but tossed her head impatiently, and
crossed to the | 281.80589 | 1,350 |
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Produced by Paul Haxo from page images graciously made
available by the Internet Archive and the University of
California.
SINGLE LIFE;
A COMEDY,
In Three Acts,
BY
JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE, ESQ.,
(MEMBER OF THE DRAMATIC AUTHORS' SOCIETY,)
AS PERFORMED AT THE
THEATRE ROYAL, HAY-MARKET.
CORRECTLY PRINTED FROM THE PROMPTER'S COPY, WITH THE
CAST OF CHARACTERS, COSTUME, SCENIC ARRANGEMENT,
SIDES OF ENTRANCE AND EXIT, AND RELATIVE
POSITIONS OF THE DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
SPLENDIDLY ILLUSTRATED WITH AN ETCHING,
BY PIERCE EGAN, THE YOUNGER, FROM A DRAWING TAKEN
DURING THE REPRESENTATION.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 186, STRAND.
"NASSAU STEAM PRESS,"
W. S. JOHNSON, 6, NASSAU STREET, SOHO.
Dramatis Personae and Costume.
_First produced, Tuesday, July 23rd, 1839._
BACHELORS.
MR. JOHN NIGGLE _(A fluctuating bachelor.)_ }
Light drab coat, white waistcoat, nankeen } MR. WEBSTER.
pantaloons, white stockings, shoes, white wig }
tied in a tail, white hat }
MR. DAVID DAMPER _(A woman-hating bachelor.)_ }
Brown coat with black horn buttons, old }
fashioned dark figured silk waistcoat, black } MR. STRICKLAND.
pantaloons, hessian boots, iron-grey wig, }
broad-brimmed hat }
MR. PETER PINKEY _(A bashful bachelor.)_ }
Lavender coloured coat, white waistcoat, }
white trowsers, pink socks, pumps, pink silk } MR. BUCKSTONE.
neckerchief, pink gloves, pink watch ribbon, }
low crowned hat and cane, flaxen fashionably }
dressed wig }
MR. NARCISSUS BOSS _(A self-loving }
bachelor.)_ Fashionable chocolate-coloured }
Newmarket coat with roses in the buttonhole, }
elegantly flowered waistcoat, light drab } MR. W. LACY.
French trowsers with boots, light blue cravat }
exquisitely tied, frilled shirt, hat, and }
wristbands a la D'Orsay, and the hair dressed }
in the first style of elegance }
MR. CHARLES CHESTER _(A mysterious }
bachelor.)_ Dark frock coat, silk waistcoat, } MR. HEMMING.
light trowsers, French gaiters and shoes, }
round hat }
SPINSTERS.
MISS CAROLINE COY _(A vilified spinster.)_ }
Grey silk dress, laced shawl and white } MRS. W. CLIFFORD.
ribbons, white satin bonnet, flowers, long }
yellow gloves, white reticule }
MISS MARIA MACAW _(A man-hating spinster.)_ }
Green silk open dress, white petticoat, }
figured satin large apron, lace handkerchief, } MRS. GLOVER.
close lace cap and white ribbons, fan, and }
black rimmed spectacles }
MISS KITTY SKYLARK _(A singing spinster.)_ }
White muslin pelisse over blue, chip hat and } MRS. FITZWILLIAM.
flowers. _(2nd dress.)_ Pink satin and blond }
flounces }
MISS SARAH SNARE _(An insinuating }
spinster.)_, _1st dress._ White muslin }
petticoat, black velvet spencer, pink satin } MRS. DANSON.
high-crowned bonnet and green feathers. _(2nd }
dress.)_ Green satin and pink ribbons, black }
wig dressed in high French bows }
MISS JESSY MEADOWS _(A romantic spinster.)_ }
White muslin dress mittens. _(2nd dress in } MISS TRAVERS.
the last scene.)_ White lace over white satin }
with roses }
Time of representation, 2 hours.
EXPLANATION OF THE STAGE DIRECTIONS.
L. means first entrance, left. R. first entrance, right. S.E.L. second
entrance, left. S.E.R. second entrance, right. U.E.L. upper entrance,
left. U.E.R. upper entrance, right. C. centre, L.C. left centre. R.C.
right centre. T.E.L. third entrance, left. T | 281.828987 | 1,351 |
2023-11-16 18:20:28.5126140 | 403 | 94 |
E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Keith Edkins, 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 40113-h.htm or 40113-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40113/40113-h/40113-h.htm)
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(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40113/40113-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
http://archive.org/details/flagsofworldthei00hulmiala
Transcriber's note:
A few typographical errors have been corrected; they are
listed at the end of the text.
To facilitate the use of the index, page numbers have
been included enclosed by curly brackets (example: {5}).
THE FLAGS OF THE WORLD:
Their History, Blazonry, and Associations.
From the Banner of the Crusader to the Burgee of the Yachtsman;
Flags National, Colonial, Personal;
the Ensigns of Mighty Empires;
the Symbols of Lost Causes.
by
F. EDWARD HULME, F.L.S., F.S.A.,
Author of
"Familiar Wild Flowers," "History, Principles and Practice of Heraldry,"
"Birth and Development of Ornament," &c., &c.
London:
Frederick Warne & Co.,
and New York
[All rights reserved.]
{iii}
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
The necessity of some special Sign to distinguish Individuals, Tribes, and
Nations--the Standards of Antiquity--Egyptian, Assyrian, Persian, Greek,
and Roman--the Vexillum--the Labarum of Constantine | 281.832024 | 1,352 |
2023-11-16 18:20:28.5569260 | 1,003 | 372 |
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
THE CORSET AND THE CRINOLINE.
THE CORSET
AND
THE CRINOLINE.
A BOOK OF
MODES AND COSTUMES
FROM REMOTE PERIODS TO THE PRESENT TIME.
BY W. B. L.
WITH 54 FULL-PAGE AND OTHER ENGRAVINGS.
"O wha will shoe my fair foot,
And wha will glove my han'?
And wha will lace my middle jimp
Wi' a new-made London ban'?"
_Fair Annie of Lochroyan._
LONDON:
WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER.
WARWICK HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW.
LONDON
PRINTED BY JAS. WADE,
TAVISTOCK STREET, COVENT GARDEN
PREFACE.
The subject which we have here treated is a sort of figurative
battle-field, where fierce contests have for ages been from time
to time waged; and, notwithstanding the determined assaults of the
attacking hosts, the contention and its cause remain pretty much as
they were at the commencement of the war. We in the matter remain
strictly neutral, merely performing the part of the public's "own
correspondent," making it our duty to gather together such extracts
from despatches, both ancient and modern, as may prove interesting or
important, to take note of the vicissitudes of war, mark its various
phases, and, in fine, to do our best to lay clearly before our readers
the historical facts--experiences and arguments--relating to the
much-discussed "_Corset question_."
As most of our readers are aware, the leading journals especially
intended for the perusal of ladies have been for many years the media
for the exchange of a vast number of letters and papers touching the
use of the Corset. The questions relating to the history of this
apparently indispensable article of ladies' attire, its construction,
application, and influence on the figure have become so numerous of
late that we have thought, by embodying all that we can glean and
garner relating to Corsets, their wearers, and the various costumes
worn by ladies at different periods, arranging the subject-matter in
its due order as to dates, and at the same time availing ourselves of
careful illustration when needed, that an interesting volume would
result.
No one, we apprehend, would be likely to deny that, to enable the
fairer portion of the civilised human race to follow the time-honoured
custom of presenting to the eye the waist in its most slender
proportions, the Corset in some form must be had recourse to. Our
information will show how ancient and almost universal its use has
been, and there is no reason to anticipate that its aid will ever
be dispensed with so long as an elegant and attractive figure is an
object worth achieving.
Such being the case, it becomes a matter of considerable importance
to discover by what means the desirable end can be acquired without
injury to the health of those whose forms are being restrained and
moulded into proportions generally accepted as graceful, by the
use and influence of the Corset. It will be our duty to lay before
the reader the strictures of authors, ancient and modern, on this
article of dress, and it will be seen that the animadversions of
former writers greatly exceed modern censures, both in number and
fierceness of condemnation. This difference probably arises from
the fact of Corsets of the most unyielding and stubborn character
being universally made use of at the time the severest attacks were
made upon them; and there can be no reasonable doubt that much which
was written in their condemnation had some truth in it, although
accompanied by a vast deal of fanciful exaggeration. It would also
be not stating the whole of the case if we omitted here to note that
modern authors, who launch sweeping anathemas on the very stays by
the aid of which their wives and daughters are made presentable in
society, almost invariably quote largely from scribes of ancient date,
and say little or nothing, of their own knowledge. On the other hand,
it will be seen that those writing in praise of the moderate use of
Corsets take their facts, experiences, and grounds of argument from
the everyday life and general custom of the present period.
The Crinoline is too closely associated with the Corset and | 281.876336 | 1,353 |
2023-11-16 18:20:28.5860860 | 181 | 136 |
Produced by Norbert Mueller and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration: _From a photograph by Brown and Dawson_
WILLIAM II
GERMAN EMPEROR
From a photograph taken since the beginning of the war of 1914]
THE GERMAN EMPEROR
AS SHOWN
IN HIS PUBLIC UTTERANCES
BY
CHRISTIAN GAUSS
PROFESSOR Of MODERN LANGUAGES, PRINCETON UNIVERSITY
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1915
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published February, 1915
PREFACE | 281.905496 | 1,354 |
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Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for project
Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
made available by The Internet Archive)
Philippine Bureau of Agriculture.
Farmer's Bulletin No. 2.
CACAO CULTURE IN THE PHILIPPINES
By
WILLIAM S. LYON,
In charge of seed and plant introduction.
Prepared under the direction of the Chief of the Bureau.
Manila:
Bureau of Public Printing.
1902.
CONTENTS.
Page.
Letter of transmittal 4
Introduction 5
Climate 6
The plantation site 7
The soil 7
Preparation of the soil 8
Drainage 8
Forming the plantation 9
Selection of varieties 10
Planting 11
Cultivation 13
Pruning 13
Harvest 16
Enemies and diseases 18
Manuring 19
Supplemental notes 21
New varieties 21
Residence 21
Cost of a cacao plantation 22
LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL.
Sir: I submit herewith an essay on the cultivation of cacao, for the
use of planters in the Philippines. This essay is prompted first,
because much of the cacao grown here is of such excellent quality as
to induce keen rivalry among buyers to procure it at an advance of
quite 50 per cent over the common export grades of the Java bean,
notwithstanding the failure on the part of the local grower to
"process" or cure the product in any way; second, because in parts
of Mindanao and <DW64>s, despite ill treatment or no treatment, the
plant exhibits a luxuriance of growth and wealth of productiveness
that demonstrates its entire fitness for those regions and leads us
to believe in the successful extension of its propagation throughout
these Islands; and lastly because of the repeated calls upon the Chief
of the Agricultural Bureau for literature or information bearing upon
this important horticultural industry.
The importance of cacao-growing in the Philippines can hardly be
overestimated. Recent statistics place the world's demand for cacao
(exclusive of local consumption) at 200,000,000 pounds, valued at
more than $30,000,000 gold.
There is little danger of overproduction and consequent low prices
for very many years to come. So far as known, the areas where cacao
prospers in the great equatorial zone are small, and the opening and
development of suitable regions has altogether failed to keep pace
with the demand.
The bibliography of cacao is rather limited, and some of the best
publications, [2] being in French, are unavailable to many. The leading
English treatise, by Professor Hart, [3] admirable in many respects,
deals mainly with conditions in Trinidad, West Indies, and is fatally
defective, if not misleading, on the all-important question of pruning.
The life history of the cacao, its botany, chemistry, and statistics
are replete with interest, and will, perhaps, be treated in a future
paper.
Respectfully,
Wm. S. Lyon,
In Charge of Seed and Plant Introduction.
Hon. F. Lamson-Scribner,
Chief of the Insular Bureau of Agriculture.
CACAO CULTURE IN THE PHILIPPINES.
INTRODUCTION.
Cacao in cultivation exists nearly everywhere in the Archipelago. I
have observed it in several provinces of Luzon, in Mindanao, Jolo,
Basilan, Panay, and <DW64>s, and have well-verified assurances of its
presence in Cebu, Bohol, and Masbate, and it is altogether reasonable
to predicate its existence upon all the larger islands anywhere under
an elevation of 1,000 or possibly 1,200 meters. Nevertheless, in many
localities the condition of the plants is such as not to justify the
general extension of cacao cultivation into all regions. The presence
of cacao in a given locality is an interesting fact, furnishing a
useful guide for investigation and agricultural experimentation, but,
as the purpose of this paper is to deal with cacao growing from a
commercial standpoint, it is well to state that wherever reference is
made to the growth, requirements, habits, or cultural treatment of the
plant the commercial aspect is alone considered. As an illustration,
attention is called to the statement made elsewhere, that "cacao exacts
a minimum temperature of 18 deg."; although, as is perfectly well known
to the writer, its fruit has sometimes matured where the recorded
temperatures have fallen as | 282.059737 | 1,355 |
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Produced by Don Kostuch. (This text was produced from files
obtained from The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[Transcriber's note: The original unedited text file came
from http://www.archive.org/details/nobody00jacogoog]
NOBODY
LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
[Illustration: "Miss Manwaring! For the Love of Mike--"]
NOBODY
By LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
AUTHOR OF "The Lone Wolf,"
"The Brass Bowl," "Cynthia of the Minute,"
"The Destroying Angel," Etc.
With Frontispiece
By W. L. JACOBS
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers
New York
Published by Arrangement with GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
Copyright, 1914,
By LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
Copyright, 1915,
By GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
_This novel was originally published serially,
under the title of "An Outsider."_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I ANARCHY
II BURGLARY
III ACCESSARY AFTER THE FACT
IV BLACKMAIL
V CONSPIRACY
VI ALIAS MANWARING
VII FRAUD
VIII A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
IX PICAROON
X LEGERDEMAIN
XI THE THIRD DEGREE
XII MACHIAVELLIAN
XIII MARPLOT
XIV MAGIC
XV FALSE WITNESS
XVI THE PLANT
XVII EXPOSE
XVIII BREAKING JAIL
NOBODY
CHAPTER I
ANARCHY
"What you gonna have?"
To this inquiry the patron made no response; head bent, nose between
the pages of the magazine, she pored sedulously over a legend attached
to one of the illustrations.
After a decent pause in waiting the waitress renewed her demand with a
sharper accent:
"Say, lis'en; what you want?"
"White satin, veiled with _point d' Angleterre_,'" Miss Manvers
replied distinctly, if without looking up, aware simply of something
imperative in the starched but humid presence at her elbow.
Pardonably startled, the waitress demanded with the rising inflection:
"_Wha-a-at?_"
"'The court train,'" Miss Manvers pursued in abstraction, "'is lined
with lace and dotted with bouquets of orange-blossoms--'"
She checked herself suddenly, looked up shyly, and essayed a pale,
apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry; I didn't realise--"
But now the waitress had caught a glimpse of the illustration and was
bending over the patron's shoulder for a better look.
"Gee!" she commented sincerely. "Ain't that a dream?"
"Yes," Miss Manvers admitted wistfully, "it's a dream, right enough!"
"That's so, too." Deftly, with a large, moist, red hand, the waitress
arranged knife, fork, spoon, and paper serviette on the unclothed
brown board before Miss Manvers. "That's the worst of them fashion
mag'zines," she complained; "they get your goat. Sometimes after
readin' some of that dope I can't hardly remember orders right, just
for wishin' somebody'd come along and hang some of them joyful rags
onto me!"
Then, catching the eye of the manager, she straightway resumed her
professional habit of slightly wilted hauteur--compounded in equal
parts of discontent, tired feet, heat-fag and that profound disdain
for food-consuming animals which inevitably informs the mind of every
quick-lunch waitress.
"What you gonna have?" she demanded dispassionately.
"Ham-and, please."
"Plate of ham-and. Cawfy?"
"Yes, iced coffee and"--Miss Manvers hesitated briefly--"and a
napoleon."
Reciting the amended order, the waitress withdrew.
For the next few moments the customer neglected the fashion magazine
which she had found--apparently a souvenir of some other
absent-minded patron--on the seat of the chair next that one of her
own casual choice.
She stared blankly at the smudged and spotted bill of fare propped up,
in its wooden frame, against an armour-plate-china sugar-bowl. She was
deeply intrigued by the mystery of human frailty as exemplified by her
reckless extravagance in ordering that superfluous bit of pastry. Miss
Manvers's purse contained a single coin of silver, the quarter of a
dollar; being precisely the sum of her entire fortune. Her ham and
beans would cost fifteen cents, the coffee and the napoleon five cents
each. In other words, she would be penniless when she had paid her
score--and Heaven only knew for how long afterward.
Her lips moved without sound in her worn | 282.260443 | 1,356 |
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A MINSTREL IN FRANCE
BY
HARRY LAUDER
[ILLUSTRATION: _frontispiece_ Harry Lauder and his son, Captain John
Lauder. (see Lauder01.jpg)]
TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED SON
CAPTAIN JOHN LAUDER
First 8th, Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders
Killed in France, December 28, 1916
Oh, there's sometimes I am lonely
And I'm weary a' the day
To see the face and clasp the hand
Of him who is away.
The only one God gave me,
My one and only joy,
My life and love were centered on
My one and only boy.
I saw him in his infant days
Grow up from year to year,
That he would some day be a man
I never had a fear.
His mother watched his every step,
'Twas our united joy
To think that he might be one day
My one and only boy.
When war broke out he buckled on
His sword, and said, "Good-bye.
For I must do my duty, Dad;
Tell Mother not to cry,
Tell her that I'll come back again."
What happiness and joy!
But no, he died for Liberty,
My one and only boy.
The days are long, the nights are drear,
The anguish breaks my heart,
But oh! I'm proud my one and only
Laddie played his part.
For God knows best, His will be done,
His grace does me employ.
I do believe I'll meet again
My one and only boy.
by Harry Lauder
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Harry Lauder and His Son, Captain John Lauder
"I did not stop at sending out my recruiting band. I went out myself"
"'Carry On!' were the last words of my boy, Captain John Lauder, to
his men, but he would mean them for me, too"
"Bang! Went Sixpence"
"Harry Lauder preserves the bonnet of his son, brought to him from
where the lad fell, 'The memory of his boy, it is almost his
religion.'--A tatter of plaid of the Black Watch. on a wire of a
German entanglement barely suggests the hell the Scotch troops have
gone through"
"Captain John Lauder and Comrades Before the Trenches in France"
"Make us laugh again, Harry!' Though I remember my son and want to
join the ranks, I have obeyed"
"Harry Lauder, 'Laird of Dunoon.'"
--Medal struck off by Germany when _Lusitania_ was sunk"
CHAPTER I
Yon days! Yon palmy, peaceful days! I go back to them, and they are
as a dream. I go back to them again and again, and live them over.
Yon days of another age, the age of peace, when no man dared even to
dream of such times as have come upon us.
It was in November of 1913, and I was setting forth upon a great
journey, that was to take me to the other side of the world before I
came back again to my wee hoose amang the heather at Dunoon. My wife
was going with me, and my brother-in-law, Tom Valiance, for they go
everywhere with me. But my son John was coming with us only to
Glasgow, and then, when we set out for Liverpool and the steamer that
was to bring us to America he was to go back to Cambridge. He was
near done there, the bonnie laddie. He had taken his degree as
Bachelor of Arts, and was to set out soon upon a trip around the
world.
Was that no a fine plan I had made for my son? That great voyage he
was to have, to see the world and all its peoples! It was proud I was
that I could give it to him. He was--but it may be I'll tell you more
of John later in this book!
My pen runs awa' with me, and my tongue, too, when I think of my boy
John.
We came to the pier at Dunoon, and there she lay, the little ferry
steamer, the black smoke curling from her stack straight up to God.
Ah, the braw day it was! There was a frosty sheen upon the heather,
and the Clyde was calm as glass. The tops of the hills were coated
with snow, and they stood out against the horizon like great big
sugar loaves.
We were a' happy that day! There was a crowd to see us off. They had
come to bid me farewell and godspeed, all my friends and my
relations, and I went among them, shaking them by the hand and
thinking of the long whiles before I'd be seeing them again. And then | 282.262238 | 1,357 |
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SWEET HOURS
BY
CARMEN SYLVA
LONDON
R. A. EVERETT & CO., LTD.
42 ESSEX STREET, W.C.
1904
[_All rights reserved_]
CONTENTS
PAGE
TO THE MEMORY OF QUEEN VICTORIA 1
A FRIEND 4
OUT OF THE DEEP 7
A CORONATION 10
DOWN THE STREAM 13
IN THE RUSHING WIND 16
UNDER THE SNOW 19
SOLITUDE 21
THE GNAT 24
REST 27
THE SHADOW 32
THE GLOWWORM 35
A DREAM 37
IN THE DARK 40
THE SENTINEL 43
LETHE 47
A DEBTOR 51
"VENGEANCE IS MINE," SAITH THE LORD 54
NIGHT 58
ROUSED 62
SADNESS 66
WHEN JOY IS DEAD 68
A ROOM 71
UNREST 74
TO THE MEMORY OF QUEEN VICTORIA
[Illustration]
These ever wakeful eyes are closed. They saw
Such grief, that they could see no more. The heart--
That quick'ning pulse of nations--could not bear
Another throb of pain, and could not hear
Another cry of tortur'd motherhood.
Those uncomplaining lips, they sob no more
The soundless sobs of dark and burning tears,
That none have seen; they smile no more, to breathe
A mother's comfort into aching hearts.
The patriarchal Queen, the monument
Of touching widowhood, of endless love,
And childlike purity--she sleeps. This night
Is watchful not. The restless hand, that slave
To duty, to a mastermind, to wisdom
That fathom'd history and saw beyond
The times, lies still in marble whiteness. Love
So great, so faithful, unforgetting and
Unselfish--must it sleep? Or will that veil,
That widow's veil unfold, and spread into
The dovelike wings, that long were wont to hover
In anxious care about her world-wide nest,
And now will soar and sing, as harpchords sing,
Whilst in their upward flight they breast the wind
Of Destiny. No rest for her, no tomb,
Nor ashes! Light eternal! Hymns of joy!
No silence now for her, who, ever silent,
Above misfortunes' storms and thund'ring billows,
Would stand with clear and fearless brow, so calm,
That men drew strength from out those dauntless eyes,
And quiet from that hotly beating heart,
Kept still by stern command and unbent will
Beneath those tight shut lips. Not ashes, where
A beacon e'er will burn, a fire, like
The Altar's Soma, for the strong, the weak,
The true, the brave, and for the quailing. No,
Not ashes, but a light, that o'er the times
Will shed a gentle ray, and show the haven,
When all the world, stormshaken, rudderless, will pray:
If but her century would shine again!
Oh, Lord! Why hast thou ta'en thy peaceful Queen?
A FRIEND
[Illustration]
Old age is gentle as an autumn morn;
The harvest over, you will put the plough
Into another, stronger hand, and watch
The sowing you were wont to do.
Old age
Is like an alabaster room, with soft
White curtains. All is light, but light so mild,
So quiet, that it cannot hurt.
The pangs
Are hushed, for life is wild no more with strife,
Nor breathless uphill work, nor heavy with
The brewing tempests, which have torn away
So much, that nothing more remains to fear.
What once was hope, is gone. You know. You saw
The worst, and not a sigh is left of all
The heavy sighs that tore your heart, and not
A tear of all those tears that burnt your cheeks,
And ploughed the furrows into them.
You see
How others work again and weep again,
And hope and fear. Thy alabaster room
With marble floor and dainty hangings has
A look so still, that others wonder why
They feel it churchlike. All thy life is here;
Thy life hath built the vault and paved it, and
Thy hands have woven yonder curtains that
Surround thy seat, a shady sunshine.
Age
Is feeble not to thee, as all thy wishes
Are silent and demand no effort. Age
Is kind to thee, allows thee all the rest
That never came, | 282.475648 | 1,358 |
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E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations,
many of which are in color.
See 53495-h.htm or 53495-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53495/53495-h/53495-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53495/53495-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/italianvillasthe00whar
Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
ITALIAN VILLAS AND THEIR GARDENS
[Illustration: VILLA CAMPI, NEAR FLORENCE]
ITALIAN VILLAS AND THEIR GARDENS
by
EDITH WHARTON
Illustrated with Pictures by Maxfield Parrish
and by Photographs
[Illustration]
New York
The Century Co.
1905
Copyright, 1903, 1904, by
THE CENTURY CO.
Published November, 1904
The De Vinne Press
TO
VERNON LEE
WHO, BETTER THAN ANY ONE ELSE, HAS UNDERSTOOD AND INTERPRETED THE
GARDEN-MAGIC OF ITALY
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 5
I
FLORENTINE VILLAS 19
II
SIENESE VILLAS 63
III
ROMAN VILLAS 81
IV
VILLAS NEAR ROME
I CAPRAROLA AND LANTE 127
II VILLA D’ESTE 139
III FRASCATI 148
V
GENOESE VILLAS 173
VI
LOMBARD VILLAS 197
VII
VILLAS OF VENETIA 231
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Villa Campi, near Florence _Frontispiece_
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
The Reservoir, Villa Falconieri, Frascati 4
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
The Cascade, Villa Torlonia, Frascati 9
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Fountain of Venus, Villa Petraja, Florence 18
From a Photograph.
Villa Gamberaia at Settignano, near Florence 20
Drawn by C. A. Vanderhoof, from a Photograph.
Boboli Garden, Florence 24
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Entrance to Upper Garden, Boboli Garden, Florence 27
From a Photograph.
Cypress Alley, Boboli Garden, Florence 31
From a Photograph.
Ilex-walk, Boboli Garden, Florence 36
From a Photograph.
Villa Gamberaia, near Florence 39
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
View of Amphitheatre, Boboli Garden, Florence 44
From a Photograph.
Villa Corsini, Florence 49
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Vicobello, Siena 62
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
La Palazzina (Villa Gori), Siena 67
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
The Theatre at La Palazzina, Siena 73
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
The Dome of St. Peter’s, from the Vatican Gardens 80
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Entrance to Forecourt, Villa Borghese, Rome 87
From a Photograph.
Grotto, Villa di Papa Giulio, Rome 91
From a Photograph.
Temple of Æsculapius, Villa Borghese, Rome 96
From a Photograph.
Villa Medici, Rome 100
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Courtyard Gate of the Villa Pia, Vatican Gardens 102
Drawn by E. Denison, from a Photograph.
Villa Pia—In the Gardens of the Vatican 105
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Gateway of the Villa Borghese 108
Drawn by E. Denison, from a Photograph.
Villa Chigi, Rome 111
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Parterres on Terrace, Villa Belrespiro (Pamphily-Doria), 116
Rome
From a Photograph.
View from Lower Garden, Villa Belrespiro 121
(Pamphily-Doria), Rome
From a Photograph.
Villa d’Este, Tivoli 126
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Caprarola 129
From a retouched Photograph.
The Casino, Villa Farnese, Caprarola 133
From a Photograph.
Villa Lante, Bagnaia 138
From a Photograph.
The Pool, Villa d’Este, Tivoli 141
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Lante, Bagnaia 146
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Cascade and Rotunda, Villa Aldobrandini, Frascati 149
From a Photograph.
Garden of Villa Lancellotti, Frascati 153
From a Photograph.
Casino, Villa Falconieri, Frascati 157
From a Photograph.
The Entrance, Villa Falconieri, Frascati 161
From a Photograph.
Villa Lancellotti, Frascati 165
From a Photograph.
Villa Scassi, Genoa 172
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
A Garden-niche, Villa Scassi, Genoa 181
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Cicogna, Bisuschio 196
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Isola Bella, Lake Maggiore 203
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
In the Gardens of Isola Bella, Lake Maggiore 210
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Villa Cicogna, from the Terrace above the House 216
From a Photograph.
Villa Pliniana, Lake Como 221
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
Iron Gates of the Villa Alario (now Visconti di 224
Saliceto)
Drawn by E. Denison, from a Photograph.
Railing of the Villa Alario 225
Drawn by Malcolm Fraser, from a Photograph.
Gateway of the Botanic Garden, Padua 230
Drawn by Maxfield Parrish.
View at Val San Z | 282.608077 | 1,359 |
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THE LIFE AND TIMES OF ALFRED THE GREAT
_C. PLUMMER_
HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
LONDON, EDINBURGH
NEW YORK
THE LIFE AND TIMES
OF
ALFRED THE GREAT
BEING THE FORD LECTURES FOR 1901
BY
CHARLES PLUMMER, M.A.
FELLOW AND CHAPLAIN OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, OXFORD
WITH AN APPENDIX
[Illustration]
OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1902
[_All rights reserved_]
OXFORD
PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
BY HORACE HART, M.A.
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
TO THE REV. JOHN EARLE, M.A.
RAWLINSONIAN PROFESSOR OF ANGLO-SAXON IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
THESE LECTURES ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY HIS FRIEND AND FORMER PUPIL
THE AUTHOR
PREFACE
The present work contains the lectures delivered by me on the Ford
foundation in Michaelmas Term, 1901. The lectures are printed
substantially as they were delivered, with the exception that certain
passages which were shortened or omitted in delivery owing to want of
time are now given in full.
In the notes will be found the authorities and arguments on which the
conclusions of the text are based. The notes occupy a rather large
proportion of the book, because I wished to spare my audience, as far as
possible, the discussion of technical details.
I have not thought it necessary to recast the form of the lectures.
The personal style of address, naturally employed by a lecturer to his
audience, is retained in addressing the larger audience to which I now
appeal.
The objects which I have aimed at in the lectures are sufficiently
explained at the beginning and end of the lectures themselves, and need
not be further enlarged on here.
In many ways the lectures would no doubt have been improved, if I had
been able to make use of Mr. Stevenson’s long-expected edition of Asser.
On the other hand there may be advantages in the fact that Mr. Stevenson
and myself have worked in perfect independence of one another.
I am sorry that I have had to speak unfavourably of some of the recent
Alfred literature which has come under my notice. I am a little jealous
for the honour of English historical scholarship; and I am more than
a little jealous that the greatest name in English history should be
considered a theme on which any one may try his prentice hand. It
suggests the possibility of adding a new chapter to what I have called
‘that ever-lengthening treatise De casibus illustrium uirorum’ (p. 178).
I have, as usual, to thank all the officials of the Clarendon Press,
especially my friend Mr. C. E. Doble, for the interest and care which
they have bestowed upon the work; and I must also thank the Delegates
for so kindly undertaking the publication of it. The help which I have
received in reference to various points is acknowledged in the book
itself.
For the map I am indebted to the skill of Mr. B. V. Darbishire.
In the Dedication I have tried to express the gratitude which I owe for
the friendship and intellectual sympathy of some quarter of a century.
Finally I would record my great obligations to the electors to the Ford
Lectureship for the distinguished honour which they did me in appointing
me to the post without any solicitation on my part.
CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, OXFORD,
_March 10, 1902_.
CONTENTS
PAGE
DEDICATION v
PREFACE vii
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS x
KEY TO NAMES ON MAP xii
INTRODUCTORY 1
LECTURE I. The Sources 5
LECTURE II. The Sources (_continued_) 31
LECTURE III. The Life of Alfred prior to his Accession to
the Throne 69
LECTURE IV. Alfred’s Campaigns against the Danes; Civil
Administration 97
LECTURE V. Civil Administration (_continued_); Education;
Literary Works 130
LECTURE VI. Literary Works (_continued_); Summary and
Conclusion 166
APPENDIX. Sermon on the Death of Queen Victoria 205
ADDENDA 214
INDEX 215
MAP OF ALFRED’S CAMPAIGNS _To face p._ 1
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS
AA. SS. = Acta Sanctorum, the great Bollandist | 283.157503 | 1,360 |
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THE BLIND BROTHER.
SUNSHINE LIBRARY.
=Aunt Hannah and Seth.= By James Otis.
=Blind Brother (The).= By Homer Greene.
=Captain's Dog (The).= By Louis Enault.
=Cat and the Candle (The).= By Mary F. Leonard.
=Christmas at Deacon Hackett's.= By James Otis.
=Christmas-Tree Scholar.= By Frances Bent Dillingham.
=Dear Little Marchioness.= The Story of a Child's Faith and Love.
=Dick in the Desert.= By James Otis.
=Divided Skates.= By Evelyn Raymond.
=Gold Thread (The).= By Norman MacLeod, D.D.
=Half a Dozen Thinking Caps.= By Mary Leonard.
=How Tommy Saved the Barn.= By James Otis.
=Ingleside.= By Barbara Yechton.
=J. Cole.= By Emma Gellibrand.
=Jessica's First Prayer.= By Hesba Stretton.
=Laddie.= By the author of "Miss Toosey's Mission."
=Little Crusaders.= By Eva Madden.
=Little Sunshine's Holiday.= By Miss Mulock.
=Little Peter.= By Lucas Malet.
=Master Sunshine.= By Mrs. C. F. Fraser.
=Miss Toosey's Mission.= By the author of "Laddie."
=Musical Journey of Dorothy and Delia.= By Bradley Gilman.
=Our Uncle, the Major.= A Story of 1765. By James Otis.
=Pair of Them (A).= By Evelyn Raymond.
=Playground Toni.= By Anna Chapin Ray.
=Play Lady (The).= By Ella Farman Pratt.
=Prince Prigio.= By Andrew Lang.
=Short Cruise (A).= By James Otis.
=Smoky Days.= By Edward W. Thomson.
=Strawberry Hill.= By Mrs. C. F. Fraser.
=Sunbeams and Moonbeams.= By Louise R. Baker.
=Two and One.= By Charlotte M. Vaile.
=Wreck of the Circus (The).= By James Otis.
=Young Boss (The).= By Edward W. Thomson.
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY,
NEW YORK.
[Illustration]
THE
BLIND BROTHER:
A Story of
THE PENNSYLVANIA COAL MINES
BY
HOMER GREENE
_The author received for this story the First Prize, Fifteen Hundred
Dollars, offered by the_ YOUTH'S COMPANION _in 1886,
for the Best Serial Story_
FOURTEENTH THOUSAND
NEW YORK
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1887,
By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
TO
MY MOTHER,
WHOSE TENDER CARE AND UNSELFISH DEVOTION
MADE HAPPY THE DAYS OF MY
OWN BOYHOOD,
This Book for Boys
IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,
BY THE AUTHOR.
Honesdale, Penn., April 6, 1887.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. LOST IN THE MINE 11
II. THE BURNED BREAKER 30
III. THE UNQUIET CONSCIENCE 50
IV. THE TRIAL 69
V. THE VERDICT 89
VI. THE FALL 109
VII. THE SHADOW OF DEATH 128
VIII. OUT OF DARKNESS 148
THE BLIND BROTHER.
CHAPTER I.
LOST IN THE MINE.
The Dryden Mine, in the Susquehanna coal-fields of Pennsylvania, was
worked out and abandoned long ago. To-day its headings and airways and
chambers echo only to the occasional fall of loosened slate, or to the
drip of water from the roof. Its pillars, robbed by retreating workmen,
are crumbling and rusty, and those of its props which are still
standing have become mouldy and rotten. The rats that once scampered
through its galleries deserted it along with human kind, and its very
name, from long disuse, has acquired an un | 283.16151 | 1,361 |
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material from the Google Print project.)
[Illustration: "DAISY." (FROM THE ORIGINAL PHOTOGRAPH.)]
Daisy
_The Autobiography of a Cat_
BY
MIRANDA ELIOT SWAN
Boston
NOYES BROTHERS
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY NOYES BROTHERS.
Norwood Press
J.S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
INTRODUCTION
This little story of one cat's life has been written during the
intervals of a long and painful illness, when I missed the love and
sympathy of my little four-footed friend of eighteen years, now, alas!
nothing but a memory. Indeed, so vividly did his spirit speak to me,
that I readily acknowledge him the author of this book, being myself his
amanuensis.
From my earliest childhood the love of animals, particularly cats, has
been inherent with me. One tale of cruelty, heard by me when a child,
distressed me and made me ill, and nightly the panorama of the
disgusting crime would haunt my pillow. But I never regret the suffering
it caused me, for it taught me my duty to our dumb friends so dependent
on us.
If the little stories in this book touch the hearts of its readers as
that story touched mine, it will indeed have accomplished its mission.
Just such stories are needed to create interest in the many societies
now forming in aid of dumb animals.
There are cases where one must not spare the knife, even though our
tenderest and most sensitive feelings recoil, for the cure will be sure.
There are crimes perpetrated every day, in the name of Science, that
need just such stories to expose their iniquity. For I believe ignorance
is the cause of cruelty in many instances, and a little story told
attractively, where retribution follows the deed, will have more effect
than reproof. I do not believe there are many hearts so callous, that a
little anecdote of cruelty to these helpless creatures will not touch
them.
There are many who will read this book who have lost dear little pets,
and I would say to them that the dear Father has them all in his care.
In the boundless and beautiful fields of Paradise they will find the
dear little friends they have lost waiting for them.
I trust my readers will pardon the many imperfections of this little
book, believing that an earnest wish to help our dumb animals is my
heart's desire.
MIRANDA ELIOT SWAN.
BOSTON,
December 11, 1899.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
EARLY DAYS 1
CHAPTER II
MY MOTHER'S STORY 4
CHAPTER III
MY HOME 17
CHAPTER IV
DAISY'S PARTY 21
CHAPTER V
REVERSES 28
CHAPTER VI
DAISY'S ADVENTURE 36
CHAPTER VII
CAT MEMORIES 46
CHAPTER VIII
AN ACCIDENT 50
CHAPTER IX
CAT TALES 61
CHAPTER X
LITTLE PEARL 66
CHAPTER XI
REMINISCENCES 73
CHAPTER XII
CAT TALES 83
CHAPTER XIII
MY FIRST THEFT 90
CHAPTER XIV
RELIGIOUS ASPIRATIONS 96
CHAPTER XV
CAT ANECDOTES 106
CHAPTER XVI
CAT PRANKS 115
CHAPTER XVII
THE STORY OF FREIDA 132
CHAPTER XVIII
THANKSGIVING 145
CHAPTER XIX
MEWS AND PURRS 165
CHAPTER XX
HEADS AND TALES 187
CHAPTER XXI
JETT 195
CHAPTER XXII
WATCH AND CHLOE 216
CHAPTER XXIII
THE STORY OF BLACKIE 235
CHAPTER XXIV
RETRIBUTION 249
CHAPTER XXV
EVENTIDE 261
DAISY
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A CAT
DAISY
_AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY_
I
EARLY DAYS
I have no doubt people will wonder that a Cat should write a story. Of
course, fighting is more in their line.
However pleased I might have been to help my fellow-sufferers, and use
my natural weapons in their defence, a remark I heard made by a very
learned man decided me to use my brains instead of my claws.
He quoted:--
"The _pen_ is mightier than the _sword_."
Taking this quotation for my text, I have written my own story, hoping
it will benefit the poor cats who are made the victims of great cruelty.
No other animal has to suffer like the household pet, the cat.
I am a Boston boy, born eighteen years ago, in one of the nice
old-fashioned houses for which our quiet | 283.387087 | 1,362 |
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Produced by Giovanni Fini, Shaun Pinder and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.
—Bold text has been rendered as =bold text=.
—Table of Contents items do not refer to chapters or section, but to
the arguments treated on the pages referred to.
THE
ENGLISH FLOWER GARDEN.
[Illustration: LOGO]
THE
ENGLISH FLOWER GARDEN
WITH ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES
BY
HENRY A. BRIGHT
AUTHOR OF “A YEAR IN A LANCASHIRE GARDEN.”
London:
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1881.
_The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved._
LONDON:
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
BREAD STREET HILL.
PREFACE.
IT is just a year ago since this Essay on “The English Flower Garden”
was published in the _Quarterly Review_.
It was written with a twofold object: to give in the smallest compass
an outline history of English gardens, and to show once again what
makes the true charm and happiness of a garden. Many—perhaps too
partial—friends have urged me to reprint this article. They have
reminded me that, when the immediate circulation of any one number of
a Review has ceased, its articles are virtually lost and buried, and
they assure me that there are readers who may not have already seen,
and who would yet care to read, this Essay. I hardly know how this may
be, but I do know how very much I am indebted to the proprietor of the
_Quarterly_ for his great kindness in allowing me the opportunity of
this reprint. Should this little book succeed in retaining the friends
that _A Year in a Lancashire Garden_ was happy enough to make, it will
indeed be fortunate. It has been to me a matter of no little surprise
(as, naturally, of pleasure) to find from the generous notices of the
Press and from numerous private letters from owners of gardens, to
whom I am entirely a stranger, that the views I have expressed as to
the necessity of a reform in our gardens are very widely held. So long
as a garden is only regarded as a means for displaying masses of gay
colouring, half the delight and all the real interest of it are gone.
It is only when we learn to make friends of individual plants, and
recall their history and associations, that a garden becomes a pleasure
for the intellect as well as for the senses. But I do not wish to
carry my opinions to any extravagant length. It is Voltaire, I think,
who says that “a man may have preferences but no exclusions,” and I
certainly would exclude nothing that is good in the present system.
Bedding-out is occasionally very effective and sometimes necessary;
and, on the other hand, a garden—such as I saw suggested somewhere the
other day—which should contain only flowers known to Chaucer, would
be extremely disappointing. However, bedding-out can take very good
care of itself, and Chaucerian gardens will not be largely popular.
Meanwhile, I sincerely hope that flowering shrubs and hardy herbaceous
plants may be far more generally grown and cared for than they are at
present.
It has seemed on the whole best to leave this Essay as it was written.
I have made a few verbal corrections and inserted one or two short
sentences, and that is all. I have, however, added illustrative Notes
on points which seemed of some little interest.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
LOVE OF GARDENING 1
EARLY ENGLISH GARDENS 3
TOPIARIAN WORK 8
LANDSCAPE GARDENERS 11
BEDDING-OUT 16
CARPET-BEDDING 23
SPRING GARDENING 26
THE SEMI-TROPICAL GARDEN 27
THE ALPINE GARDEN 29
FOUNTAINS 31
THE WILD GARDEN 32
THE SHRUBBERY 35
HARDY SHRUBS 39
THE WALLED GARDEN 43
OLD HERBALS 45
FLOWERS OF WINTER 47
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Produced by Annie McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S
YOUNG PEOPLE
AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]
* * * * *
VOL. I.--NO. 33. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, June 15, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
CHARLEY'S BALLOON VOYAGE.
BY FRANK H. TAYLOR.
"Bal-loon! balloon! Oh, Charley! where are you, Charley? There's a
balloon a-comin'."
Charley's big brother Harry came running excitedly down the road, and
vaulted the farm-yard fence in a state of great excitement. "Oh,
Charley, come out quick and see the balloon."
Charley was nowhere to be found. He had wandered off hours before to his
favorite rock by the brook to have a "good cry." And this was the reason
of it: One day, a short time before, he had been into the town of
Wayneburg, not many miles distant, with Harry. Charley didn't often have
a chance to go to town, and you may be sure he made the best use of his
eyes. The one thing which he remembered above everything else was the
big poster-board near the market, covered over every inch of it with
bright- pictures of leaping horses, trick mules, flying riders
jumping through hoops, comical clowns, and, above all, a big balloon
just rising out of the crowd, everybody swinging their hats.
For two weeks Charley had talked of nothing, thought of nothing, dreamed
of nothing but the coming show, and so, when his mother promised to take
him to see it all, he was the happiest little boy in the county. But,
alas! Charley's mother was taken sick just before the circus came, and
there was no one else to go with him. Harry was too young and wild to be
trusted, she said, and so poor Charley staid at home, and, sitting upon
the big gate-post, watched the wagon-loads of people rattling merrily
into town, bound for a day's fun. With swelling heart he wished he was a
full-grown man. Then he strayed down by the creek, as I have said, to
tell his grief to the fishes.
Harry, who had felt almost as badly as Charley, though he scorned to cry
about it, kept on shouting until Charley peeped above the orchard wall
to see what was wanted. Then he too spied the balloon. It didn't look
bigger than his top, away up among the fleecy clouds, but it rapidly
grew to the size of a pippin, and then over the hill came two or three
galloping horsemen, swinging their hats, and shouting as they rode.
Now the balloon began to descend, and shortly disappeared behind the
woods back of the house. Charley didn't know whether to run or stand
still, and while he was doubting, the great yellow dome arose into sight
again, and this time Charley could see the men in the basket. They were
looking down, and calling to the men in the road to take hold of the
long drag-rope, and pull them down.
This was not hard to do, as a balloon is so prettily balanced when in
the air that in a light wind a little boy like Charley could pull it to
the earth. It is not so easy when the balloon is going rapidly. I once
saw a plucky dog catch hold of the rope with his teeth, and it jerked
him along over fences and through a stubble field on his back, and I
guess when he let go he had but very little hair left. Well, they pulled
the balloon down, and before the men got out several large stones were
put into the basket to hold it down, and the rope was tied to a strong
post. One of the men was tall and stoop-shouldered, with a long sandy
beard; they called him "Professor" (a queer title for a balloon man, is
it not?). The second man was tall and good-looking; he belonged to the
circus company. And the third was the artist, whose sketches you see in
this paper.
After a little, Charley's mother came to the door, and invited the three
strangers into the house, but they preferred to sit on the step | 283.554934 | 1,364 |
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Produced by David Widger
RULE OF THE MONK
OR, ROME IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
By General Giuseppe Garibaldi
1870.
INTRODUCTION.
The renowned writer of Caesar's "Commentaries" did not think it
necessary to furnish a preface for those notable compositions, and
nobody has ever yet attempted to supply the deficiency--if it be one. In
truth, the custom is altogether of modern times. The ancient heroes
who became authors and wrote a book, left their work to speak for
itself--"to sink or swim," we had almost said, but that is not exactly
the case. Caesar carried his "Commentaries" between his teeth when he
swam ashore from the sinking galley at Alexandria, but it never occurred
to him to supply posterity with a prefatory flourish. He begins those
famous chapters with a soldierly abruptness and brevity--"Omnia Gallia
in tres partes" etc. The world has been contented to begin there also
for the last two thousand years; and the fact is a great argument
against prefaces--especially since, as a rule, no one ever reads them
till the book itself has been perused.
The great soldier who has here turned author, entering the literary
arena as a novelist, has also given his English translators no preface.
But our custom demands one, and the nature of the present work requires
that a few words should be written explanatory of the original purpose
and character of the Italian MS. from which the subjoined pages are
transcribed. It would be unfair to Garibaldi if the extraordinary
vivacity and grace of his native style should be thought to be here
accurately represented. The renowned champion of freedom possesses an
eloquence as peculiar and real as his military genius, with a gift of
graphic description and creative fancy which are but very imperfectly
presented in this version of his tale, partly from the particular
circumstances under which the version was prepared, and partly from
the impossibility of rendering into English those subtle touches and
personal traits which really make a book, as lines and light shadows
make a countenance. Moreover, the Italian MS. itself, written in the
autograph of the General, was compiled as the solace of heavy hours at
Varignano, where the King of Italy, who owed to Garibaldi's sword the
splendid present of the Two Sicilies, was repaying that magnificent
dotation with a shameful imprisonment. The time will come when these
pages--in their original, at least--will be numbered among the proofs of
the poet's statement that--
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage:
Minds innocent and quiet take
These for a hermitage."
If there be many passages in the narrative where the signs are strong
that "the iron has entered into the soul," there are also a hundred
where the spirit of the good and brave chieftain goes forth from his
insulting incarceration to revel in scenes of natural beauty, to recall
incidents of simple human love and kindness, to dwell upon heroic
memories, and to aspire towards glorious developments of humanity made
free, like the apostle's footsteps when the angel of the Lord struck off
his fetters, and he passed forth through the self-opened portals of his
prison.
It would be manifestly unfair, nevertheless, to contrast a work
written under such conditions with those elaborate specimens of modern
novel-writing with which our libraries abound. Probably, had General
Garibaldi ever read these productions, he would have declined to accept
them as a model. He appears to have taken up here the form of the
"novella," which belongs by right of prescription to his language and
his country, simply as a convenient way of imparting to his readers and
to posterity the real condition and inner life of Rome during these last
few eventful years, when the evil power of the Papacy has been declining
to its fall. Whereas, therefore, most novels consist of fiction founded
upon fact, this one may be defined rather as fact founded upon
fiction, in the sense that the form alone and the cast of the story is
fanciful--the rest being all pure truth lightly disguised. Garibaldi
has here recited, with nothing more than a thin veil of incognito thrown
over those names which it would have been painful or perilous to make
known, that of which he himself has been cognizant as matters of fact
in the wicked city of the priests, where the power which has usurped the
gentle name of Christ blasphemes Him with greater audacity of word and
act as the hour of | 283.746188 | 1,365 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Land of Fire, by Captain Mayne Reid.
________________________________________________________________________
As we are told in the Preface, this is the last book Reid wrote before
his death in 1883. A young farm-boy walks down to Portsmouth, a port
not too far away, and eventually gets taken on as a hand on an American
barque, trading with the Pacific. Four years later he has risen to be
second mate. But when rounding Cape Horn a severe storm overwhelms the
vessel, and she is lost after springing a very bad leak. All on board
take to the boats, but the pinnace gets separated from the gig, on which
our heroes have made their escape. The ship's carpenter, an old and
experienced seaman, a former whaler, has an extraordinary amount of
knowledge of the natives of Tierra del Fuego--the Land of Fire--for that
is where they are. Without that knowledge the party would not have
survived. Unfortunately this great seaman (somewhat after the style of
Masterman Ready) does not speak in educated English, but you will just
have to get used to that.
There are various encounters with the tribes of the region, all very
well told. Eventually, shortly after their most serious brush with the
locals, they reach a large vessel at anchor, and the pinnace alongside
her, so that they are saved.
Reid, being a good naturalist, tells us a good deal about the local
flora and fauna. We also learn how to make fire in a land where it
rains five days in six. His account of the local tribes, their skills
and their shortcomings, will give you much food for thought. And the
book makes a very nice audiobook.
________________________________________________________________________
THE LAND OF FIRE, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
PREFACE.
This tale is the last from the pen of Captain Mayne Reid, whose stories
have so long been the delight of English boys. Our readers may,
perhaps, like to know something of the writer who has given them so much
pleasure; especially as his own life was full of adventure and of brave
deeds.
Mayne Reid was born in the north of Ireland in 1819; his father was a
Presbyterian minister, and wished that his son should also be a
clergyman; but the boy longed for adventure, and to see the world in its
wildest places, and could not bring himself to settle down to a quiet
life at home.
When he was twenty years old he set out on his travels, and, landing at
New Orleans, began a life of adventure in the prairies and forests of
America--good descriptions of which were given by him in his books.
In 1845 a war broke out between the United States and Mexico, and young
Reid instantly volunteered his services to fight on the United States'
side.
He received the commission of lieutenant in a New York regiment, and
fought all through the campaign with the most dauntless courage. He
received several wounds, and gained a high reputation for generous good
feeling.
The castle of Chapultepec commanded the high road to the city of Mexico,
and as it was _very_ strongly defended, and the Mexicans had thirty
thousand soldiers to the American six thousand, to take it was a work
requiring great courage.
Reid was guarding a battery which the Americans had thrown up on the
south-east side of the castle, with a grenadier company of New York
volunteers and a detachment of United States' marines under his command.
From thence he cannonaded the main gate for a whole day. The following
morning a storming party was formed of five hundred volunteers, and at
eleven o'clock the batteries ceased firing, and the attack began.
Reid and the artillery officers, standing by their guns, watched with
great anxiety the advance of the line, and were alarmed when they saw
that half-way up the hill there was a halt.
"I knew," he said in his account, "that if Chapultepec was not taken,
neither would the city be; and, failing that, not a man of us might ever
leave the Valley of Mexico alive." He instantly asked leave of the
senior engineering officer to join the storming-party with his
grenadiers and marines. The officer gave it, and Reid and his men at
once started at a swift run, and came up with the storming-party under
the brow of the hill, where it had halted to wait for scaling ladders.
The fire from the castle was constant, and very fatal. The men
faltered, and several officers were wounded while urging them on.
Suddenly Reid, conspicuous by his brilliant uniform, sprang to his feet,
and shouted, "Men, if we don't take Chapultepec, the American army is
lost. Let us charge up the walls!"
The soldiers answered, "We are ready."
At that moment the three guns on the parapet fired simultaneously.
There would be a moment's interval while they reloaded. Reid seized
that interval, and crying "Come on," leaped over the scarp, and rushed
up to the very walls. Half-way up he saw that the parapet was crowded
with Mexican gunners, just about to discharge their guns. He threw
himself on his face, and thus received only a slight wound on his sword
hand, while another shot cut his clothes.
Instantly on his feet again, he made for the wall, but in front of it he
was struck down by a Mexican bullet tearing through his thigh.
There Lieutenant Cochrane, of the Voltigeurs, saw him as he advanced to
the walls. Reid raised himself, and sang out, entreating the men to
stand firm.
"Don't leave the wall," he cried, "or we shall be cut to pieces. Hold
on, and the castle is ours."
"There is no danger of our leaving it, captain," said Cochrane; "never
fear!"
| 284.049419 | 1,366 |
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E-text prepared by Louise Pryor and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustration.
See 26065-h.htm or 26065-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/0/6/26065/26065-h/26065-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/6/0/6/26065/26065-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Some of the spellings and hyphenations in the original
are unusual; they have not been changed. A few obvious
typographical errors have been corrected, and they and
other possible errors are listed at the end of this e-text.
HUGH, BISHOP OF LINCOLN
London : Edward Arnold : 1901
HUGH
BISHOP OF LINCOLN
A SHORT STORY OF ONE OF THE MAKERS OF MEDIAEVAL ENGLAND
by
CHARLES L. MARSON
Curate of Hambridge
Author of "The Psalms at Work," Etc.
Tua me, genitor, tua tristis imago
Saepius occurens, haec limina tendere adegit.
Stant sale Tyrrheno classes. Da jungere dextram
Da, genitor; teque amplexu ne subtrahe nostro.
AEN. VI. 695.
London
Edward Arnold
37, Bedford Street, Strand
1901
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION vii
I. THE BOY HUGH 1
II. BROTHER HUGH 12
III. PRIOR HUGH 26
IV. THE BISHOP ELECT AND CONSECRATE 42
V. THE BISHOP AT WORK 60
VI. IN TROUBLES 78
VII. AND DISPUTES 94
VIII. THE BUILDER 111
IX. UNDER KING JOHN 128
X. HOMEWARD BOUND 143
INTRODUCTION
In a short biography the reader must expect short statements, rather
than detailed arguments, and in a popular tale he will not look for
embattled lists of authorities. But if he can be stirred up to search
further into the matter for himself, he will find a list of authorities
ancient and modern come not unacceptable to begin upon.
The author has incurred so many debts of kindness in this work from many
friends, and from many who were before not even acquaintances, that he
must flatly declare himself bankrupt to his creditors, and rejoice if
they will but grant him even a second-class certificate. Among the major
creditors he must acknowledge his great obligations to the hospitable
Chancellor of Lincoln and Mrs. Crowfoot, to the Rev. A. Curtois, Mr.
Haig, and some others, all of whom were willing and even anxious that
the story of their saint should be told abroad, even by the halting
tongues of far-away messengers. The same kind readiness appeared at
Witham: and indeed everybody, who knew already about St. Hugh, has
seemed anxious that the knowledge of him should be spread abroad. It
has snowed books, pamphlets, articles, views, maps, and guesses; and if
much has remained unsaid or been said with incautious brusqueness,
rather than with balanced oppressiveness, the reader who carps will
always be welcome to such material as the author has by him, for
elucidating the truth. If he has been misled by a blind guide, that
guide must plead that he has consulted good oculists and worthy
spectacle-makers, and has had every good intention of steering clear of
the ditch.
Though what a man is counts for more than what he does, yet the services
of St. Hugh to England may be briefly summed up. They were (1)
Spiritual. He made for personal holiness, uncorruptness of public and
private life. He raised the sense of the dignity of spiritual work,
which was being rapidly subordinated to civic work and rule. He made
people understand that moral obligations were very binding upon all men.
(2) Political. He made for peace at home and abroad: at home by
restraining the excesses of forestars and tyrants; abroad by opposing
the constant war policy against France. (3) Constitutional. He first
encountered and checked the overgrown power of the Crown, and laid down
limits and principles which resulted in the Church policy of John's
reign and the triumph of Magna Carta. (4) Architectural. He fully
developed--even if he did not, as some assert, invent--the Early English
style. (5) Ecclesiastical. He counterbalanced St. Thomas of Canterbury,
and diverted much of that martyr's influence from an irreconcileable
Church policy to a more reasonable, if less exalted, notion of liberty.
(6) He was a patron of letters, and encouraged learning by supporting
schools, libraries, historians, poets, and commentators.
Ancient authorities for his | 284.084885 | 1,367 |
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Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: A BIG BLACK BEAR MADE FURIOUS EFFORTS TO SEIZE DOUR AND
DANDY. _See page 19_.]
TI-TI-PU
A BOY OF RED RIVER
BY
J. MACDONALD OXLEY
Author of 'Standing the Test,' etc.
TORONTO
THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY LIMITED
1900
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. FROM THE OLD WORLD TO THE NEW
II. AT ODDS WITH BRUIN
III. A COLD PLUNGE
IV. HECTOR ENTRAPPED
V. THE SEARCH FOR HECTOR
VI. ORDERED OFF
VII. HOW HECTOR GOT HIS NICKNAME
VIII. ON THE MOVE AGAIN
IX. THE BUFFALO HUNT
X. LOST ON THE PRAIRIE
XI. THE LOSING AND FINDING OF AILIE
XII. THE MOOSE HUNT
TI-TI-PU
A Boy of Red River
CHAPTER I
From the Old World to the New
This is how it befell. Thomas Douglas, Earl of Selkirk, thought that a
flourishing colony right in the midst of the rich hunting-grounds of
the Hudson's Bay Company, in which he was interested, would prove no
less a benefit to the natives than an excellent thing for the
colonists. Accordingly, he busied himself in persuading a number of
his fellow-countrymen to leave their hillside farms, and, with their
families, voyage to the unknown wilds of the New World.
Among those whose courage was equal to this enterprise was Andrew
Macrae, accompanied by his good wife, Kirstie, his sturdy son, Hector,
then just on the edge of his teens, his bonnie wee daughter, Ailie, and
his two splendid sheep dogs, Dour and Dandy.
The dogs' names were not given them at random. They just fitted their
natures. A more serious creature than Dour surely never stood upon
four legs. He bore himself as if he were responsible, not merely for
the occupants of the sheep-cote, but also of the cottage as well. He
was never known to frisk or gambol, or to bark without due cause.
Dandy was the very opposite, as black as a raven, save for a superb
snow-white shirt-front, which he managed to keep marvellously clean,
and a few touches of golden-brown on his shapely head. He was only a
little slighter than Dour, and as lively and frolicsome as the other
was impassive. Although not quite the equal of Dour, Dandy was an
excellent sheep dog, too, and many a cotter envied Andrew the
possession of the two fine creatures.
Hector loved both dogs dearly, albeit he stood a trifle in awe of Dour.
The dogs were as much members of the family as Ailie and himself. He
would have shared his last bit of bannock or sup of 'parritch' with
either of them, and they fully returned his affection, each in his own
way.
Hector was a 'braw laddie,' in very sooth. From his father, he got the
straightness and strength of body, the deftness of hand and foot, and
the rapidity of thought that made him an unquestioned leader among his
playfellows, and from his mother the light, crisp hair, the laughing
blue eyes, and the happy turn of speech that made the other boys love
as well as obey him.
He stood in much awe of his father, who was as strict as he was just,
but his mother had his whole heart, and many a time did he go to her
for comfort, when reproved by Andrew for some little bit of
heedlessness.
With little Ailie, a dark-eyed, dark-haired sprite, not like either
parent, to protect and pet, the Macraes made up a notably happy family
group, and were the recipients of many attentions from their fellow
passengers, on the long voyage on a slow sailing ship to the bleak
shores of Hudson's Bay.
That voyage out proved far from being a pleasant holiday. Cooped up in
an over-loaded vessel, whose accommodation was scant at best, fed upon
pork and beef that was salter than the sea itself, and hard biscuits
that became alive with weevils ere the ship reached its destination,
all the colonists suffered more or less severely. It spoke well for
the stamina of the Macraes that they bore the privations of the passage
better than the majority, and landed at York Factory in fairly good
trim.
'Eh, but glad I am to put my feet upon the solid ground again!'
exclaimed Andrew Macrae, with | 284.084892 | 1,368 |
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Produced by Victorian/Edwardian Pictorial Magazines,
Jonathan Ingram, Wayne Hammond, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: “‘CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!’ CAME THE ANSWER FROM CUTLER’S
GUN.”
(SEE PAGE 319.)]
THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.
Vol. XXII. JANUARY, 1909. No. 130.
The Beulah County “War.”
BY H. M. VERNON.
One of the most striking characteristics of the Westerner
is the high regard in which he holds womankind. Even in the
roughest mining camps a woman is absolutely safe, and is
treated with a consideration unknown in many more civilized
centres. This remarkable story illustrates the Westerner’s
innate chivalry in a very striking fashion. Sooner than drag
the name of a young schoolmistress into a quarrel, a resident
of Three Corners, Montana, allowed himself to be made an
outlaw, and for weeks defied the population of a whole county
to arrest him, even when a field gun was brought out to shell
his fastness. How in his extremity the girl he had befriended
came to his rescue and put an end to this extraordinary “war”
is graphically told in the narrative.
In the extreme western part of the State of Montana, U.S.A., in the
County of Beulah, lies a little town called Three Corners. At first
only a junction on the Rio Grande Railway, from which point countless
thousands of cattle were shipped to all parts of the world, Three
Corners grew to be a flourishing place. The wooden shanties, gambling
“joints,” and dance halls gave way to brick buildings, several banks,
a school, and other signs of progress, as respectable settlers moved
farther toward the Golden West. Of course, a part of the old town
remained, and with it a few of the characters typical of a Western “cow
town.” Among these was a tall, raw-boned man who had drifted West in
the ‘eighties, settling at Three Corners and opening a gambling-house.
His name was “Jim” Cutler. He was a man of very few words, but with
one great failing--he would shoot first and argue afterwards. Yet this
gambler, who was known and feared far and wide as a “gun-fighter,”
was at heart the mildest of men, beloved by all the children in the
town, to whom he gave coppers galore. Furthermore, Cutler would put up
with all manner of insult from a man under the influence of liquor,
or from “Tenderfeet” who did not know their danger. Cutler’s shooting
propensities were directed solely toward avowed “bad men” or those who
delighted in being known as bullies. In the course of his altercations
with such characters this tall, raw-boned man--who could, and did,
“pull his gun” like a streak of lightning--added to the population of
the local cemetery with a score of six.
Among the new-comers to Three Corners during the rehabilitation of that
town was a Hebrew named Moses Goldman. This man, a good-looking fellow
of some twenty-eight years, hailed from New York. He opened a shop,
and, with the business ability of his race, soon succeeded in making
it the principal draper’s establishment of the place. Before long,
however, reports began to circulate that the handsome young Hebrew was
not quite so respectful in demeanour towards his lady customers as he
should have been, and, although highly popular with a certain element,
the major portion of Three Corners’ female population gave Goldman’s
shop a wide berth.
One Monday morning Jim Cutler, who had been up all night looking after
the “game” in his establishment, was just leaving the place when a
young woman, whom he recognised as the schoolmistress, ran up to
him and said: “Oh, Mr. Cutler, would you mind walking as far as the
school-house with me?”
Cutler, somewhat astonished, did so, and was gratefully thanked for
his trouble. After leaving her he walked slowly back to his rooms,
wondering why he of all men should have been chosen to escort the
pretty “school ma’am.”
Some days afterwards Cutler, who passed the school on his way to and
from the Gem Saloon (his place), saw the mistress deliberately cross
the street just before reaching Goldman’s shop, and continue on her
way on the other side. He also saw Goldman come to the door and try
to attract the girl’s attention. When he reached Goldman, the latter;
twirling his moustache, remarked, laughingly, “Shy girl, that, eh?”
Cutler looked at the Hebrew for a moment, and then answered quietly, as
he moved away, “She ain’t your kind.”
Three weeks after this little episode there was a ball at the City
Hotel, and, naturally, almost the entire youth and beauty of Three
Corners “turned out.” The City Hotel was just opposite Cutler’s saloon,
and at about one o’clock the gambler was sitting in a chair outside his
place, listening to the music, when the schoolmistress and her mother
left the hotel on their way home. A moment later a man also quitted the
building and followed them. Presently he stopped the two ladies and
attempted to converse with them. The younger of the women apparently
expostulated with him, and then the two went on, leaving him standing
at the corner. Cutler recognised the solitary figure as that of
Goldman, the draper, and drew his own conclusions. Next morning Cutler
made it his business to leave the Gem Saloon just as the schoolmistress
was passing, and strode up to her.
“Miss Thurloe,” he said, “you were stopped last night on your way home.
Can I be of any assistance to you? I know you have only your mother to
protect you.”
The girl gave him a grateful look, and explained that Goldman had
repeatedly forced his attentions on her. She had done her best to send
him about his business, but he continually annoyed her, even going
so far as to enter the school-house, interrupting lessons and making
himself generally obnoxious.
Cutler smiled grimly during the girl’s hesitating recital, saw her
safely to her destination, and then went home for a sleep. At three
o’clock that afternoon he walked leisurely towards the school-house,
stopped at the fence just by the rear door, and chatted with the boys,
it being the recess hour. Suddenly, approaching from the opposite
direction, he beheld Goldman, who walked straight into the school-house
without having seen the gambler. The latter waited for a few moments,
then he also entered the building. Reaching the schoolroom, at the end
of a short hall, he found the door locked, and promptly threw himself
against it with all his strength. The door gave way with a crash and
Cutler leapt in, to see the schoolmistress struggling in the arms of
Goldman. She was fighting like a tigress, but the Jew’s hand, held
tightly over her mouth, prevented her crying out. Directly Goldman
beheld the saloon-keeper he released his prisoner, who sank back
panting upon a chair, and glared savagely at the new-comer. Cutler,
ignoring him entirely, walked slowly toward the agitated schoolmistress
and stood still, waiting for her to speak.
Goldman, however, was the first to do so. “Oh, no wonder I’ve no
chance,” he burst out, viciously; “Cutler’s as lucky in love as he
usually is at cards.”
Cutler flushed at the gibe, but he said not a word, waiting for the
girl to speak. Presently, having in a measure recovered herself, she
rose and approached the gambler. “Mr. Cutler,” she said, unsteadily,
“this man has insulted me repeatedly. Just now he tried to kiss me by
force, and I’m afraid I shall have to give up my position here and
leave Three Corners.”
In a very gentle voice Cutler asked the girl to leave the room for a
few minutes. After she had gone he turned toward Goldman, who stood
looking at him defiantly, his arms folded across his chest.
“If you were a man,” he said, sternly, “I’d drop you where you stand,
but I’m going to teach you a lesson that’ll do you a heap of good.”
Then, with a sudden bound, he grasped Goldman by the throat, threw him
across a desk, and, with a three-foot ruler, administered a thrashing
such as might be given to a recalcitrant schoolboy, only with somewhat
greater severity. The punishment over, Cutler picked the man up and,
dragging him across the floor, threw him bodily out of the building.
Now Goldman was himself a powerful man, but Cutler’s action had been so
swift and decisive that the Hebrew had practically no chance to offer
resistance. Once freed from the gambler’s hold, however, he turned
and flew at his adversary with clenched fists, snarling furiously.
Cutler stood quite still, and just as the Hebrew came within the proper
distance his right fist shot out straight from the shoulder. It landed
square on Goldman’s jaw, and he dropped like a log.
Several of the school-children, attracted by the noise, now crowded
round, vastly excited. Cutler, having informed Miss Thurloe that he
believed she would not be further annoyed, but that he would keep an
eye on “that fool masher,” walked slowly toward the town, leaving the
vanquished draper lying where he had fallen.
It has been necessary to explain all this in order that readers of THE
WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE unfamiliar with the ways of the Far West may better
understand what follows. I have said that the better element had in a
manner of speaking driven the original settlers at Three Corners to
new fields. These new-comers looked upon Cutler as an “undesirable.”
His reputation as a “man-killer” did not appeal to the emigrants from
the cultured Eastern States, who would gladly have seen him pack up
and leave the town. Goldman was quite aware of this, so, directly he
recovered himself, he asked for and obtained a warrant for Cutler’s
arrest on a charge of assault. The gambler was arraigned before the
local magistrate, where he steadfastly refused to give any reason for
the chastisement he had inflicted upon Goldman. The latter immediately
realized the advantage of Cutler’s chivalrous reluctance to drag
a woman’s name into the affair, and so swore that the assault was
entirely unprovoked and committed out of “pure devilry” on Cutler’s
part. Cutler was fined fifty dollars and severely admonished by the
Court. Everyone wondered why this acknowledged “bad man” did not
promptly wreak vengeance on the Hebrew. The gambler, however, desiring
to protect the name of the school-teacher, said not a word, but paid
the fine and went about his business as though nothing had happened.
[Illustration: “HE ADMINISTERED A THRASHING SUCH AS MIGHT BE GIVEN TO A
RECALCITRANT SCHOOLBOY.”]
Some ten days passed, when, one moonlight evening, Cutler came driving
down the road leading into Three Corners, behind a fast-trotting
horse. Just as he reached the end of a long field of corn a report
rang out and his horse dropped, riddled with shot. Cutler jumped from
his buggy, whipped out his revolver, and made for the corn-field, from
which the shot had evidently come. He made a thorough search, but
the tall corn-stalks afforded a secure hiding-place to the would-be
assassin--for Cutler had no doubt whatever that the shot had been meant
for him. Reluctantly giving up his quest, he walked back to his saloon
and sent several men to remove the dead horse and bring in his buggy.
The next morning he again made his way to the corn-field, and there,
just by the fence, he found five discarded cigarette ends of a very
expensive Egyptian brand which he knew to be smoked by only one man
in Three Corners--Goldman, the draper. Evidently the man had lain in
wait for a long time. Cutler next climbed over the fence, and was about
to return when he saw lying in the path a piece of cloth torn from a
jacket, and on it a button. It looked as though the would-be murderer,
in jumping the fence, had caught his coat on the barbed wire; at any
rate, he had left a damning piece of evidence behind him. With the
cigarette ends and the fragment of cloth in his pocket, Cutler walked
leisurely up the road into the town and made direct for the shop of
Moses Goldman.
The draper was standing on a step-ladder arranging some goods on the
shelves. When the door opened, ringing a small bell, he turned, and
seeing Cutler jumped down from the ladder. The gambler looked the man
straight in the eye. “You miserable cur!” he cried, angrily. “You’d
shoot a man in the dark, would you?”
Goldman, realizing that Cutler had satisfied himself as to the identity
of his assailant, made as if to draw a revolver. That was the last
movement he ever made, for the next instant he dropped dead, shot clean
through the heart.
The gambler waited for a moment to see if the report of the pistol had
attracted any attention; then, as no one appeared, he quietly left
the shop, went over to his saloon, placed two revolvers in his belt,
and filled his pockets with ammunition. Then, taking up a Winchester
repeating-rifle, he went to the stable, saddled his horse, and after a
few words with his bartender rode out of Three Corners in a westerly
direction.
It was not long after his departure before the entire town was in
an uproar. Moses Goldman, the energetic draper, had been found
shot--killed in his own shop by Jim Cutler. The latter had been seen
entering Goldman’s establishment by several persons, and the shot
had been heard by people living above the store, who afterwards saw
Cutler leaving. Sheriff Benson, accompanied by two deputies, promptly
called at the Gem Saloon, but the officer was a trifle late, for Cutler
was by that time some miles distant. Lest it should be thought that
Cutler had made his escape through cowardice it may be best to explain
at once, perhaps, that this was not the case. The man realized that
should he be apprehended the name of Miss Thurloe must necessarily
figure prominently in the matter. Strange as it may seem, this six-foot
gambler, knowing no better, believed that by “making himself scarce” he
was protecting that lady’s good name. This was a mistake, undoubtedly,
but the fact remains that he made it.
It happened that Rufe Benson, Sheriff of Beulah County, was a sworn
enemy of Cutler’s, for the latter some years before had taken the law
into his own hands and at the point of his gun liberated a prisoner
whom he believed to be innocent, and who was eventually proved to be
so. Benson now formed a posse of some twenty armed men, and there began
a man-hunt which lasted, so far as this particular posse was concerned,
for a fortnight. They were then reinforced by a body of “Rangers,”
some fifty strong, who in turn found it necessary to call to their
assistance a body of militia. All these officers were ably assisted by
the citizens and residents of Beulah County, altogether some thousand
strong, and yet Jim Cutler proved more than their match. Benson’s men
trailed the fugitive to Kerry’s ranch, some six miles out; from here
he had gone north-west toward the Rio Grande. He was mounted on a
thoroughbred--as were all the men, for that matter--but six miles was
a long start in a case like this, and should the hunted man once reach
the mountains--well, there might be some trouble in getting at him.
The telegraph was put into operation, and a circle some ten miles in
circumference drawn around Cutler. When this cordon closed in, however,
they failed to find the gambler amongst them, but they _did_ find two
self-appointed “man-hunters” lying where they had fallen to the deadly
aim of Jim Cutler’s repeating-rifle.
From every town for miles around amateur detectives joined the hunt,
but no trace could be found of Cutler beyond the Moulin River, a tiny
stream only some twenty feet wide, so the rivulet was dammed and the
water drained off for miles, so as to discover, if possible, whether
Cutler had ridden up or down stream. While one party of men were doing
this, others rode in all directions, searched the ranches, and notified
every town by telegraph to keep a look-out for the slayer of Moses
Goldman. More and more people joined in the hunt, but for some days,
in the slang of the West, “there was nothing doing.” Then, early one
morning, two horsemen came galloping towards Benson’s camp, and one of
the men, dismounting, delivered a message to the effect that Cutler had
been seen at McPherson’s ranch, some eleven miles north-west, where
he had informed Mr. McPherson that he had not the slightest intention
of taking further life unless driven to it, and that, if Benson would
call in all his men, he (Cutler) would promise to give himself up in a
fortnight’s time. (It was afterwards learned that he intended in the
interval to communicate with Miss Thurloe and arrange a story, leaving
her name entirely out of the matter.) Benson, however, was on his
mettle, and so refused to parley with his quarry.
“If Jim Cutler thinks he can defy the law and officers of this county,
he is mightily mistaken,” he said, “and we’re going to take him, dead
or alive.” This ultimatum duly reached Cutler through “non-combatant”
friends, whereupon he smiled grimly. Being now outlawed, it was
impossible for Cutler’s friends to assist him without making themselves
amenable to the law, so | 284.172665 | 1,369 |
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THE
MYSTERIES OF LONDON.
BY
GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS,
AUTHOR OF "PICKWICK ABROAD," "THE MODERN LITERATURE OF FRANCE,"
"ROBERT MACAIRE," ETC.
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS
BY G. STIFF.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
GEORGE VICKERS, 3, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND.
MDCCCXLVI.
LONDON:
Printed by J. J. WILKINSON, "Bonner House," Seacoal Lane.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
PAGE
CHAPTER CXXXVII.—Rat's Castle 1
CXXXVIII.—A Public Functionary 4
CXXXIX.—The Confidence 7
CXL.—Incidents in the Gipsy Palace 10
CXLI.—The Subterranean 13
CXLII.—Gibbet 15
CXLIII.—Morbid Feelings 18
CXLIV.—The unfinished Letter 20
CXLV.—Hypocrisy 23
CXLVI.—The Bath.—The Housekeeper 25
CXLVII.—The Rector's new Passion 28
CXLVIII.—The Old Hag's Intrigue 31
CXLIX.—The Masquerade 34
CL.—Mrs. Kenrick 36
CLI.—A mysterious Deed 39
CLII.—The Death-bed 42
CLIII.—Proceedings in Castelcicala 45
CLIV.—Reflections.—The New Prison 47
CLV.—Patriotism 50
CLVI.—The Decision 52
CLVII.—The Trial of Catherine Wilmot 54
CLVIII.—A happy Party 58
CLIX.—The Interview 60
CLX.—The Rector in Newgate 63
CLXI.—Lady Cecilia Harborough 66
CLXII.—The Bequest 69
CLXIII.—The Zingarees 71
CLXIV.—The Executioner's History 75
CLXV.—The Trace 79
CLXVI.—The Thames Pirates 82
CLXVII.—An Arrival at the Wharf 84
CLXVIII.—The Plague Ship 86
CLXIX.—The Pursuit 90
CLXX.—The Black Veil 93
CLXXI.—Mr. Greenwood's Dinner-party 95
CLXXII.—The Mysteries of Holmesford House 96
CLXXIII.—The Adieux 100
CLXXIV.—Castelcicala 103
CLXXV.—Montoni 107
CLXXVI.—The Club-house 111
CLXXVII.—The History of an Unfortunate Woman 115
CLXXVIII.—The Tavern at Friuli 133
CLXXIX.—The Journey 135
CLXXX.—The "Boozing-ken" once more 138
CLXXXI.—The Resurrection Man again 142
CLXXXII.—Mr. Greenwood's Journey 144
CLXXXIII.—Kind Friends 147
CLXXXIV.—Estella 150
CLXXXV.—Another New-Year's Day 155
CLXXXVI.—The New Cut 158
CLXXXVII.—The forged Bills 162
CLXXXVIII.—The Battles of Piacere and Abrantani 165
CLXXXIX.—The Battle of Montoni 172
CXC.—Two of our old Acquaintances 174
CXCI.—Crankey Jem's History 176
CXCII.—The Mint.—The Forty Thieves 187
CXCIII.—Another Visit to Buckingham Palace 192
CXCIV.—The Royal Breakfast 197
CXCV.—The Aristocratic Villain and the low Miscreant 200
CXCVI.—The old Hag and the Resurrection Man 203
CXCVII.—Ellen and Catherine 206
CXCVIII.—A gloomy Visitor 208
CXCIX.—The Orphan's filial Love 211
CC.—A Maiden's Love 214
CCI.—The handsome Stranger.—Disappointment 218
CCII.—The Princess Isabella 220
CCIII.—Ravensworth Hall 223
CCIV.—The Bride and Bridegroom 226
CCV.—The Breakfast 228
CCVI.—The Patrician Lady and the Unfortunate Woman 231
CCVII.—The Husband, the Wife, and the Unfortunate Woman 235
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NEW IRELAND PAMPHLETS. NUMBER THREE
PRICE TWOPENCE
THE ISSUE
The Case for Sinn Fein
BY LECTOR
AS PASSED BY CENSOR.
NEW IRELAND PUBLISHING COMPANY, Limited
13 FLEET STREET, DUBLIN
1918
THE ISSUE
=INDEPENDENCE.=
Does Ireland wish to be free? Do we alone among the ancient Nations of
Europe desire to remain slaves? That, and that alone, is the question
which every Irish elector has now to answer. Let us put everything else
out of our minds as irrelevant claptrap. Let nothing distract us from this
single issue of Liberty. We must turn a deaf ear to sentimental whining
about what this or that man did, his length of service, his "fighting on
the floor of the House," and so on. Whatever may have been done in the way
of small doles, petty grants, and big talk, the =fact= is that we are not
Free and the =issue= is, Do we want to be Free?
Why should we be afraid of Freedom? Would any sane adult voluntarily
prefer to be a slave, to be completely in the control and power of
another? Men do not willingly walk into jail; why, then, should a whole
people? The men who are =afraid= of national liberty are unworthy even of
personal liberty; they are the victims of that slave mentality which
English coercion and corruption have striven to create in Ireland. When
Mr. John Dillon, grown tremulous and garrulous and feeble, asked for a
national convention this autumn "to definitely forswear an Irish
Republic," he was asking Ireland to commit an act of national apostasy and
suicide. Would =you= definitely forswear your personal freedom? Will Mr.
John Dillon hand his cheque-book and property over to some stranger and
indenture himself as a serf or an idiot? When he does, but not till then,
we shall believe that the Irish Nation is capable of sentencing itself
cheerfully to penal servitude for all eternity.
It was not always thus. "I say deliberately," said Mr. John Dillon at
Moville in 1904, "that I should never have dedicated my life as I have
done to this great struggle, if I did not see at the end of it the
crowning and consummation of our work--A FREE AND INDEPENDENT IRELAND." It
is sad that, fourteen years later, when the end is in sight, Mr. Dillon
should be found a recreant and a traitor to his past creed. The
degeneration of such a man is a damning indictment of Westminsterism.
Parnell, too save for one short moment when he tried by compromise to fool
English Liberalism but was foiled, proclaimed his belief in Irish
Independence.
This is what Parnell said at Cincinatti on 23rd February, 1880:--
"When we have undermined English misgovernment, we have paved the way
for Ireland to take her place among the nations of the earth. And let
us not forget that that is the ultimate goal at which all we Irishmen
aim. None of us, whether we be in America or in Ireland, or wherever
we may be, will be satisfied =until we have destroyed the last link
which keeps Ireland bound to England=."
Were he alive to-day, when the last link is snapping, on what side would
Parnell be? Would he forswear an Irish Republic or would he proclaim once
more, as he said in Cork (21st Jan., 1885): "No man has a right to fix the
boundary of the march of a Nation. No man has a right to say: Thus far
shalt thou go and no farther. And we have never attempted to fix the _ne
plus ultra_ to the progress of Ireland's nationhood and we never shall."
=IRELAND AND SMALL NATIONS.=
At New York 31st August, 1904, John Redmond declared:--
"If it were in my power to-morrow by any honourable means to
absolutely emancipate Ireland, I would do it and feel it my duty to do
it. (1904, not 1914!) I believe it would be just as possible for
Ireland to have a prosperous and free separate existence as a nation
as Holland, Belgium, or Switzerland, or other small nationalities. And
if it were in the power of any man to bring that result about
to-morrow by honourable and brave means, he would be indeed a coward
and a traitor to the traditions of his race did he not do so."
If Holland and Poland and all the other little lands, why not Ireland? Put
that straight question to yourself and you must answer it as John Redmond
did in 1904. Are we alone among the nations created to be slaves and
helots? Are we so incompetent and incapable as not to be able to manage
our own country? Is a people of four millions to be in perpetual bondage
and tutelage to a solicitor and a soldier? Did God Almighty cast up this
island as a sandbank for Englishmen to walk on? Is it the sole mission of
Irish men and women to send beef and butter to John Bull?
Look at the other nations and ask yourself, Why not? Why is not Ireland
free? Are we too small in area? We are double Switzerland or Denmark,
nearly three times Holland or Belgium. Is our population too small--though
it was once double? We are as numerous as Serbia, our population is as
large as that of Switzerland and nearly double that of Denmark or Norway.
Does the difficulty lie in our poverty? Are we too poor to exist as a free
people? The revenue raised =per head= in Ireland is double that of any
other small nation, seven times that of Switzerland! The total revenue of
Ireland is ten times that of Switzerland, three times that of Norway, four
times that of Denmark, Serbia or Finland. Yet all these countries have
their own armies, consuls, etc.; they run themselves as free nations at
far below the cost of servile Ireland. Why? Because there is no other
country pocketing their cash.
Here are some figures:--
Area Population Revenue
(thousands of (Millions) (Millions L)
sq. miles)
Ireland 32-1/2 4-1/3 30
Belgium 11-1/2 7-1/2 32
Holland 12-1/2 6-1/2 18-3/4
Denmark 15-1/2 2-3/4 7-1/2
Norway 125 2-1/2 10
Switzerland 16 4 3
Rumania 53-1/2 7-1/2 24
Serbia 34 4-1/2 8-1/2
Finland 126 3-1/4 8-1/2
These figures would suggest that Ireland is a strong military and naval
power among the small nations. And so we are--only the army and navy we
support are not our own; they exist to keep us in slavery, not in freedom.
It is about time we started business on our own.
=DEPENDENT ON ENGLAND?=
The most significant instance of English policy in Ireland is the creation
of the widespread delusion that we are economically dependent on England.
An elaborate network of fraud and deceit has been built up to hide the
truth from our eyes. We are secretly and systematically robbed and we
hardly notice it. The ordinary Irish worker pays at least four shillings a
week to England, he is hardly aware of the fact, so nicely is it done
whenever he buys tobacco or his wife gets tea and | 284.986114 | 1,371 |
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Transcriber's Notes: Words in italics in the original are surrounded
with _underscores_. Variations in spelling and hyphenation remain as
in the original. The Table of Contents is at the end of this volume. A
complete list of corrections as well as other notes follows the text.
Amadis of Gaul,
by
VASCO LOBEIRA.
IN FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. IV.
LONDON:
Printed by N. Biggs, Crane-court, Fleet-street,
FOR T. N. LONGMAN AND O. REES, PATERNOSTER
ROW.
1803.
_AMADIS of GAUL._
Book the Fourth.
_CHAPTER 1._
You have heard in the third book of this great history how King
Lisuarte against the will of all his subjects great as well as little,
delivered up his daughter Oriana to the Romans, and how by Amadis and
his companions of the Firm Island she was from them rescued; now we
will tell you what ensued. When Amadis had left the vessel where the
Princess was he went through the fleet to give orders concerning the
prisoners and the spoils, coming near the ship where Salustanquidio lay
dead he heard a great lamentation, for the people and the Knights of
that Prince were making moan over him, and relating all his praises and
greatness so that Agrayes and they who had won the ship could neither
quiet them, nor remove them from the body. Amadis therefore ordered
that they should all leave the vessel, and he gave command that the
body should be placed in a coffin, and that such burial should be given
him as befitted such a Lord, for albeit he was his enemy, he had died
like a good man in his master's service.
The noise of this lamentation was so great that it reached the ship
wherein was Oriana; but so soon as Queen Sardamira heard that it was
for Salustanquidio's death, forgetting all her former grief, she wrung
her hands and threw herself upon the ground, and began to exclaim, O
generous prince and of high lineage, the light and the mirror of the
whole Roman Empire, what a grief and a calamity will it be to all
who love thee when they shall hear the tidings of thy unhappy and
disastrous end, and what grief wilt thou feel O Emperor when thou shalt
learn the death of this thy cousin, who was the strong shield of thine
empire, and the destruction of thy fleet, and the disgraceful loss of
thy Knights. Either thou must tamely submit to this loss and remain the
most dishonoured Prince in the world, or else prepare to avenge it,
putting thy state and person to great peril and doubtful issue, for
by all that I have seen since my entering Great Britain in an unhappy
hour, sure am I that there is no Prince or Power however great against
whom these Knights would fear to wage war. Alas, my afflicted heart
grieveth more for the living who will suffer in this quarrel, than for
these dead whose share of the evil is past! But then Oriana and Mabilia
raised her up and comforted her the best they could.
_CHAPTER 2._
Amadis and his Knights now assembled on board Florestan's vessel,
and there resolved that they should forthwith make sail for the Firm
Island, according to their own opinion and the pleasure of Oriana;
they then placed all the prisoners in one ship and appointed Gavarte
of the Perilous Valley, and Landin the Nephew of Don Quadragante with
a body of Knights to guard them: and the spoils they placed in another
ship under the care of Don Gandales the foster-father of Amadis, and
Sadamon, who were two prudent and trusty Knights; their own force they
divided among the other vessels in the manner that they had first
embarked, and then they deputed Don Bruneo of Bonamar and Angriote of
Estravaus to inform Oriana that they were ready to obey her and to
request her commands. These two Knights went on board her ship and
kneeling before her said, good Lady all these Knights who are here
assembled at your rescue, inform you that the fleet is now ready for
your service, and desire to know your will that they may fulfill it. My
true friends, replied Oriana, I should not desire to live if I thought
that it would never be in my power to requite the love ye have all
shown me, but I trust in God that as I have the will, so will he one
day give me the power to show my gratefulness. Say to the Knights that
what has been before determined should now be put in practice, that is,
to go to the Firm Island, there we can take farther counsel, and there
I hope that these difficult and painful beginnings will come to a good
end.
When the two Knights had carried back this answer to their companions
they bade all their trumpets sound, and joyfully and with loud clamours
the fleet began to move on. Joyfully and courageously did these Knights
go their way, being of one accord and resolved not to give over the
enterprize which they had begun, till they should have well and happily
concluded it, for they were all of high lineage and of great prowess,
and the knowledge that their cause was just now greatly heartened
them, and they even rejoiced to see themselves thus engaged against
two such powerful princes, for be the issue what it would, they were
sure by the contest to acquire a fair fame and leave behind them a
remembrance which should endure for ever. Certes whoso had seen them in
that gallant fleet, how proudly they sailed on, so armed and with such
a company, would have weened that they were the train of some great
Emperor, and of a truth scarcely could there be found in the household
of any Prince how great soever, so goodly a company of Knights, high
born, and so approved in arms. Seven days they sailed along, and then
took port in the haven of the Firm Island, and there discharged the
cannon for joy; the Islanders in alarm, seeing so great a fleet, took
arms and ran to the beach, but then they knew the banners and device of
Amadis their Lord. Forthwith the boats were put out, and Don Gandales
landed to prepare the apartments and order that a bridge of boats
should be made from the shore, that Oriana and her Ladies might by that
means land.
_CHAPTER 3._
Now when the fair Grasinda heard of the coming of the fleet and of
all that had befallen, she made ready to receive Oriana, whom of all
persons in the world she most desired to see, because of her great
renown that was every where spread abroad. She therefore wished to
appear before her like a Lady of such rank and such wealth as indeed
she was; the robe which she put on was adorned with roses of gold,
wrought with marvellous skill, and bordered with pearls and precious
stones of exceeding value, this robe till now she had never worn,
having reserved it to wear when she should make trial of the Forbidden
Chamber. On her goodly hair she would wear no other adornment than the
crown which the Greek Knight her champion had challenged for her, and
won for her from all the Damsels in King Lisuarte's court. She rode a
white palfrey, whose trappings were all curiously wrought with gold,
in this guise had she resolved, if her good fortune was such that she
should accomplish the proof of the Forbidden Chamber, to return to King
Lisuarte's court, and there make herself known to Queen Brisena and to
her daughter Oriana, and to the other Princesses and damsels, and from
thence to return with great glory to her own country; but the issue was
far otherwise than she hoped and imagined, for fair as of a truth she
was, yet was not her beauty equal to the beauty of Queen Briolania, who
had attempted that adventure and failed therein. In this rich attire
did that Lady go forth from her apartment, and with her all her dames
and damsels all richly apparelled, ten of her Knights on foot led her
reins, and with this array she proceeded to the shore. The Bridge of | 285.034386 | 1,372 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Lodges in the Wilderness
By William Charles Scully
Published by Herbert Jenkins Limited, London.
This edition dated 1915.
Lodges in the Wilderness, by William Charles Scully.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
LODGES IN THE WILDERNESS, BY WILLIAM CHARLES SCULLY.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE BUSHMANLAND DESERT--ITS NATURE AND EXTENT--DESERT TRAVELLING--THE
"TOA."
The world moves rapidly and with increasing momentum. Even regions
remote from those communities which the stress of increasing population
and the curse of unleisured industrialism send spinning "down the
ringing grooves of change," are often so disturbed or overwhelmed by the
overflow of what threatens to be an almost worldwide current of morbid
energy, that within a strangely short period their character is apt
completely to alter and their individuality to become utterly destroyed.
I do not know how the Great Bushmanland Desert has fared in this
respect--not having visited it for several years--but if some unlikely
combination of circumstances were to take me once more to Aroegas or
Koisabies,--to the tiny spring of living water that trickles from the
depths and lies like a precious jewel hidden in the dark, narrow cavern
at Inkruip,--or to where the flaming, red-belted cone of Bantom Berg
glares over the dragon-folds of the dune-devil sprawling at its feet, I
should go in fear of finding empty sardine-tins and broken bottles lying
among the fragments of prehistoric pottery and flint implements which
were but recently the only traces of man to be found in those abodes of
solitude.
The Bushmanland Desert is but little-known. A few nomads--some of
European and some of mixed descent--hang on its fringe. Here and there
ephemeral mat-house villages, whose dwellers are dependent on the sparse
and uncertain bounty of the sky, will, perhaps, be found for a season.
But when the greedy sun has reclaimed the last drop of moisture from
shallow "pan" or sand-choked rock-saucer, the mat-houses are folded up
and, like the Arabs, these dwellers steal silently away from the
blighting visage of the Thirst King. But the greater portion of
Bushmanland may be ranked among the most complete solitudes of the
earth. The lion, the rhinoceros, and, in fact, most of the larger
indigenous fauna have disappeared from it--with the autochthonous pygmy
human inhabitants; nevertheless it is a region full of varied and
distinctive interest. The landscape consists either of vast plains,
mirage-haunted and as level as the sea,--arid mountain ranges--usually
mere piles of naked rock, or immense sand-dunes, massed and convoluted.
The latter often change their form and occasionally their location under
stress of the violent winds which sweep down from the torrid north.
The tract is an extensive one, probably upwards of 50,000 square miles
lie within its limits. It is bounded on the north by the Gariep or
Orange River--but as that flows and eddies at the bottom of a tremendous
gorge which is cut off from the plains by a lofty, stark range of
mountains,--coal-black in colour for their greater extent and glowing
hot throughout the long, cloudless day, the traveller seldom sees it.
The western boundary is the Atlantic Ocean; the eastern an imaginary
line drawn approximately south from the Great Aughrabies Falls to the
Kat Kop Range. If we bisect this line with another drawn due east from
the coast to the Lange Berg, we shall get a sufficiently recognisable
boundary on the south. From the tract so defined must be deducted the
small area surrounding the Copper Mines, and a narrow strip of mountain
land running parallel with, and about sixty miles from the coast. This
strip is sparsely inhabited by European farmers.
The occasional traversing of this vast tract lay within the scope of my
official duties. My invariable travelling companion was Field Cornet
Andries Esterhuizen (of whom more anon) and a small retinue of police,
drivers, and after-riders. We never escaped hardship; the sun scorched
fiercely and the sand over which we tramped was often hot enough to cook
an egg in. Water, excepting the supply we carried with us, was as a
rule unobtainable; consequently we had to eschew washing completely. We
often had to travel by night so as to spare the oxen, and as the
water-casks usually almost filled the wagon, we then had to tramp,
vainly longing for sleep, through long, weary hours, from sunset to
sunrise. And after the sun had arisen the heat, as a rule, made sleep
impossible.
It was to the more inaccessible--and therefore comparatively inviolate--
expanses of this wilderness that I was always tempted to penetrate.
Therein were to be found a scanty flora and a fauna--each unusual and
distinctive,--composed of hardy organisms, which an apprenticeship from
days unthinkably ancient had habituated to their most difficult
conditions of existence. If, somewhere near the margin of the great
central plain, we happened to cross the track of a vagrant thunderstorm,
we would see myriads of delicately-petalled blossoms miraculously
surviving, like the Faithful Rulers of Babylon in the Fiery Furnace. On
the flank of some flaming sand-dune we would find the tulip-like blooms
of the Gethyllis flourishing in leafless splendour. Their corollas were
of crystalline white splashed with vivid crimson; deep in each goblet
lay the clustered anthers,--a convoluted mass of glowing gold. Is this
flower a grail, bearing beauty too ineffable to die, through | 285.667196 | 1,373 |
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by The Internet Archive)
WITH SACK AND STOCK IN ALASKA
PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE LONDON
WITH SACK AND STOCK
IN ALASKA
BY
GEORGE BROKE, A.C., F.R.G.S.
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET
1891
_All rights reserved_
Dedicated
TO THE MEMORY OF
A⸺ M⸺
KILLED ON THE DÜSSISTOCK
AUGUST 16, 1890
PREFACE
The publishing of these simple notes is due to the wishes of one who is
now no more. But for this they would probably have never seen the light,
and I feel therefore that less apology is needed for their crudeness and
‘diariness’ than would otherwise have been the case.
G. B.
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
LONDON TO SITKA
The summons—Across the Atlantic in the ‘Polynesian’—A deceitful
car-conductor—The C.P.R.—At Victoria—On the ‘Ancon’—Fort
Wrangel—Juneau—Sitka 1
CHAPTER II
SITKA TO YAKUTAT
The town—Ascent of Sha-klokh—Expedition to Edgcumbe—Dick’s
dismissal—Enlisting recruits—Ascent of Verstovia—Arrival of
W.—On board the ‘Alpha’—Miserable weather—Run ashore at Yakutat 20
CHAPTER III
OPENING APPROACHES
Getting canoes and men—A false start—Icy Bay—Torrents of
rain—On march—The Yahkhtze-tah-heen—A wet camp—More wading—Our
forces—Camp on the glacier—Across the ice—The Chaix Hills 37
CHAPTER IV
AN ATTACK AND A COUNTERMARCH
A long lie—Men return to the beach—We make a
cache—Shifting camp—The Libbey Glacier—The south-east
face of St. Elias—Right-about-turn—Lake Castani—The Guyot
Glacier—Reappearance of the men—Wild-geese for supper 61
CHAPTER V
FURTHER ADVANCE AND MY RETREAT
Across the Tyndall Glacier—Ptarmigan—Another bear—The Daisy and
Coal Glaciers—A catastrophe—The others go on—Alone with Billy
and Jimmy—More geese—The blue bear—Marmot hunting 81
CHAPTER VI
BACK TO THE SHORE
Ptarmigan with a revolver—Back to Camp G—The others
return—Their narrative—The men turn up again—We start down—A
wasp’s nest—Mosquitoes—Wading extraordinary—We leave Icy Bay—A
luxurious breakfast 99
CHAPTER VII
LIFE AT YAKUTAT
Curio-hunting—Small plover—W. goes down on the ‘Active’—Siwash
dogs—A great potlatch—Cricket under difficulties—No signs of
the ‘Alpha’—I determine to go down in a canoe—The white men
accompany me 122
CHAPTER VIII
YAKUTAT TO SITKA
Farewells—A drunken skipper—Cape Fairweather—Loss of our
frying-pan—Mount Fairweather and its glaciers—Murphy’s
Cove—Stuck at Cape Spencer—Salmon and sour-dough bread—We reach
Cape Edwardes—The ‘Pinta’—Safe back—Height of St. Elias 137
_MAPS_
COAST OF PART OF SOUTH-EASTERN ALASKA, SHOWING THE ST. ELIAS
ALPS _To face p._ 1
THE SOUTHERN <DW72>s OF MOUNT ST. ELIAS 〃 61
[Illustration: COAST OF part of SOUTH-EASTERN ALASKA showing the ST.
ELIAS ALPS.
_Longmans, Green & Co., London & New York. F.S. Weller._]
WITH SACK AND STOCK IN ALASKA
CHAPTER I
LONDON TO SITKA
On the twenty-fifth of April, 1888, I was playing golf on our little
links at home, and had driven off for | 285.968497 | 1,374 |
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Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: DANDELIONS]
Dandelions, dandelions, shining through the dew,
Let the Kings have Cloth of Gold, but let _us_ have _you_!
CHILD SONGS OF CHEER
BY
EVALEEN STEIN
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
ANTOINETTE INGLIS
BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Published, August, 1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918,
BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
* * * * *
_Dear Children, all the little words
These printed pages through,
They are a flock of little birds
I bring to sing to you.
Sometimes they sing of foolish things,
And other times they try
To tell their gladness when their wings
Soar up to seek the sky.
So, Sweethearts, do but kindly hark!
If but a sparrow throng,
Or if among them there's a lark,
To you their songs belong!_
* * * * *
Contents
Up, Little Ones!
Dandelions
Our Puppies
The Lost Balloon
The Circus Procession
May-Baskets
The Picture-Book Giant
Did You Ever?
Decoration Day
Chu-Chu Cars
Fairy Rings
The Firefly
A Rain Song
Fairies
The Little Fir-Trees
The Wren-House
The Baby's Ride
An Indian Raid
The First Sleigh-Ride
Sleepy Time
When Bettie and Anne Went Walking
The Bluebird
The Organ-Grinder
The New Moon
Showery Time
Easter Day
The Sandman
Dandelion Curls
Pop-Corn
The Rash Little Sparrow
What If?
Easter Eggs
The Birds' Bath
November Morning
The Runaway
Lost!
The Queen's Page
Our Tree-Toad
In the Water-World
Who Was It?
Visiting Day
A Valentine to Catherine
Fireflies
The Rainy Day
The First Red-Bird
The Weather-Vane
The Swan
Baby's Baking
A Sure Sign
Another Sure Sign
The Robin's Bath
The Frosted Pane
The First Snow
Grandfather Knows
Sleigh-Bells
The Red-Bird
Wild Beasts
Wherefore Wings?
Basking
With a May-Basket for Baby Agnes
The Little Nest
Christmas Candles
A Song of the Christmas-Tree
Our Kittens
In July
A Valentine to a Little Child
Zip!
A Little Carol
Song
The Three Candles
* * * * *
Illustrations
DANDELIONS
Dandelions, dandelions, shining through the dew,
Let the kings have Cloth of Gold, but let _us_
have _you_! _Frontispiece_
FAIRY RINGS
See them dancing, dancing,
While the silver moon
Tips their swiftly glancing
Little silver shoon!
THE BIRDS' BATH
When the sun shines warm and high
Robins cluster round its brink
CHRISTMAS CANDLES
We can tell Him of our love
If we set a light for Him
* * * * *
Child Songs of Cheer
UP, LITTLE ONES!
A robin redbreast, fluting there
Upon the apple-bough,
Is telling all the world how fair
Are apple-blossoms now;
The honey-dew its sweetness spills
From cuckoo-cups, and all
The crocuses and daffodils
Are drest for festival!
Such pretty things are to be seen,
Such pleasant things to do,
The April earth it is so green,
The April sky so blue,
The path from dawn to even-song
So joyous is to-day,
Up, little ones! and dance along
The lilac-scented way!
DANDELIONS
Hey-a-day-a-day, my dear! Dandelion time!
Come, and let us make for them a pretty little rhyme!
See the meadows twinkling now, beautiful and bright
As the sky when through the blue shine the stars at night!
Once upon a time, folks say, mighty kings of old
Met upon a splendid field called "The Cloth of Gold."
But, we wonder, could it be there was ever seen
Brighter gold than glitters now in our meadows green?
Dandelions, dandelions, shining through the dew,
Let the kings have Cloth of Gold, but let _us_ have _you_!
OUR PUPPIES
Little ears as soft as silk,
Little teeth as white as milk,
Little noses cool and pink,
Little eyes that blink and blink,
Little bodies round and fat,
Little hearts that pit-a-pat,
Surely prettier puppies never
Were before nor can be ever!
THE LOST BALLOON
O dear! my purple toy balloon
Has flown away! and very soon
It will be high up as the moon!
And don't you think the man up there
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BROAD GRINS;
BY
GEORGE COLMAN,
THE YOUNGER;
COMPRISING, WITH NEW ADDITIONAL
TALES IN VERSE,
THOSE FORMERLY PUBLISH'D UNDER THE TITLE
"MY NIGHT-GOWN AND SLIPPERS."
"DEME SUPERCILIO NUBEM."
THE EIGHTH EDITION.
LONDON:
H. G. BOHN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
MDCCCXXXIX.
ADVERTISEMENT.
MY Booksellers inform'd me, lately, that several inquiries had been made
for _My Night-Gown and Slippers_,--but that every copy had been
sold;--they had been out of print these two years.--"Then publish them
again," said I, boldly,--(I print at my own risk)--and with an air of
triumph. Messrs. Cadell and Davies advise'd me to make additions.--"The
_Work_ is, really, too short," said Messrs. Cadell and Davies,--"I wish,
gentlemen," return'd I, "my readers were of your opinion."--"I protest,
Sir," said they, (and they asserted it, both together, with great
emphasis,) "you have but _Three Tales_."--I told them, carelessly, it
was enough for the greatest _Bashaw_, among modern poets, and wish'd
them a good morning. When a man, as Sterne observes, "can extricate
himself with an _equivoque_, in such an unequal match,"--(and two
booksellers to one poet are tremendous odds)--"he is not ill off;"--but
reflecting a little, as I went home, I began to think my pun was a vile
one,--and did not assist me, one jot, in my argument;--and, now I have
put it upon paper, it appears viler still;--it is execrable.--So, without
much further reasoning, I sat down to rhyming;--rhyming, as the reader
will see, in open defiance of _all reason_,--except the reasons of
Messrs. Cadell and Davies.--
Thus you have _My Night-Gown and Slippers_, with _Additions_, converted
to _Broad Grins_;--and 'tis well if they may not end in _Wide Yawns_ at
last! Should this be the case, gentle Reviewers, do not, ungratefully,
attempt to break my sleep, (_you will find it labour lost_) because I
have contributed to your's.
GEORGE COLMAN, the Younger.
_May, 1820._
CONTENTS
MY NIGHT-GOWN AND SLIPPERS
TOM, DICK, and WILL, were little known to Fame;--
THE WATER-FIENDS.
DICK ended:--TOM and WILL approve'd his strains;
THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY.
Ere WILL had done 'twas waxing wond'rous late;
LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN.
THE KNIGHT AND THE FRIAR.
THE KNIGHT AND THE FRIAR, PART FIRST.
SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM's SONNET ON HIS LADY.
THE KNIGHT AND THE FRIAR, PART THE SECOND.
Ye Criticks, and ye Hyper-Criticks!--who
THE ELDER BROTHER.
MY NIGHT-GOWN AND SLIPPERS
[Illustration]
TOM, DICK, and WILL, were little known to Fame;--
No matter;--
But to the Ale-house, oftentimes, they came,
To chatter.
It was the custom of these three
To sit up late;
And, o'er the embers of the Ale-house fire,
When steadier customers retire,
The choice _Triumviri_, d'ye see,
Held a debate.
Held a debate?--On politicks, no doubt.
Not so;--they care'd not who was in,
No, not a pin;--
Nor who was out.
All their discourse on modern Poets ran;
For in the Muses was their sole delight;--
They talk'd of such, and such, and such a man;
Of those who could, and those who could not write.
It cost them very little pains
To count the modern Poets, who had brains.
'Twas a small difficulty;--'twasn't any;
They were so few:
But to cast up the scores of men
Who wield a stump they call a pen,
Lord! they had much to do,--
They were so many!
Buoy'd on a sea of fancy, Genius rises,
And like the rare Leviathan surprises;
But the _small fry_ of scribblers!--tiny souls!
They wriggle thro' the mud in shoals.
It would have raise'd a smile to see the faces
They made, and the ridiculous grimaces,
At many an author, as they overhaul'd him.
They gave no quarter to a calf,
Blown up with puff, and paragraph;
But, if they found him bad, they maul'd him.
On modern Dramatists they fell,
Pounce, _vi et armis_--tooth and nail--pell mell.
They call'd them Carpenters, and Smugglers;
Filching their incidents from ancient hoards,
And knocking them together, like deal boards:
And Jugglers;
Who all the town's attention fix,
By making--Plays?--No, Sir, by making _tricks_.
The Versifiers--Heaven defend us!
They play'd the very devil with their rhymes.
They hope'd Apollo a new set would send us;
And then, invidiously enough,
Place'd modish verse, which they call'd stuff,
Against the writing of the elder times.
To say the truth, a modern versifier
Clap'd cheek by jowl
With Pope, with Dryden, and with Prior,
Would look most scurvily, upon my soul!
For Novels, should their critick hints succeed,
The Misses might fare better when they took 'em;
But it would fare extremely ill, indeed,
With gentle _Messieurs Lane_ and _Hookham_.
"A Novel, now," says WILL, "is nothing more
Than an old castle,--and a creaking door,--
A distant hovel;--
Clanking of chains--a gallery--a light,--
Old armour--and a phantom all in white,--
And there's a Novel!"
[Illustration]
"Scourge me such catch-penny inditers
Out of the land," quoth WILL--rousing in passion--
"And fy upon the readers of such writers,
Who bring them into fashion!"
WILL rose in declamation. "'Tis the bane,"
Says he, "of youth;--'tis the perdition:
It fills a giddy female brain
With vice, romance, lust, terror, pain,--
With superstition.
"Were I Pastor in a boarding-school,
I'd quash such books _in toto_;--if I couldn't,
Let me but catch one Miss that broke my rule,
I'd flog her soundly; damme if I wouldn't."
WILLIAM, 'tis plain, was getting in a rage;
But, Thomas dryly said,--for he was cool--
"I think no gentleman would mend the age
By flogging Ladies at a Boarding-school."
DICK knock'd the ashes from his pipe,
And said, "Friend WILL,
You give the Novels a fair wipe;
But still,
While you, my friend, with passion run 'em down,
They're in the hands of all the town.
"The reason's plain," proceeded DICK,
"And simply thus--
Taste, over-glutted, grows deprave'd, and sick,
And needs a _stimulus_.
"Time was,--(when honest Fielding writ)--
Tales full of Nature, Character, and Wit,
Were reckon'd most delicious boil'd and roast:
But stomachs are so cloy'd with novel-feeding,
Folks get a vitiated taste in reading,
And want that strong provocative, a Ghost.
"Or, to come nearer,
And put the case a little clearer:--
Mind, just like bodies, suffer enervation,
By too much use;
And sink into a state of relaxation,
With long abuse.
"Now, a Romance, with reading Debauchees,
Rouses their torpid powers when Nature fails;
And all these Legendary Tales
Are, to a worn-out mind, Cantharides.
"But how to cure the evil?" you will say:
"My _Recipe_ is,--laughing it away.
"Lay bare the weak farrago of those men
Who fabricate such visionary schemes,
As if the night-mare rode upon their pen,
And trouble'd all their ink with hideous dreams.
"For instance--when a solemn Ghost stalks in,
And, thro' a mystick tale is busy,
Strip me the Gentleman into his skin--
What is he?
"Truly, ridiculous enough:
Mere trash;--and very childish stuff.
"Draw but a Ghost, or Fiend, _of low degree_,
And all the bubble's broken!--Let us see."
[Illustration]
THE WATER-FIENDS.
ON a wild Moor, all brown and bleak,
Where broods the heath-frequenting grouse,
There stood a tenement antique;
Lord Hoppergollop's country house.
Here Silence reign'd, with lips of glue,
And undisturb'd maintain'd her law;
Save when the Owl cry'd "whoo! whoo! whoo!"
Or the hoarse Crow croak'd "caw! caw! caw!"
Neglected mansion!--for, 'tis said,
Whene'er the snow came feathering down,
Four bar | 285.992781 | 1,376 |
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See 29313-h.htm or 29313-h.zip:
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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 F | 286.695917 | 1,377 |
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[Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER
VOL. XX.—NO. 1002.] MARCH 11, 1899. [PRICE ONE PENNY.]
[Illustration: A YOUTHFUL PIANIST.]
_All rights reserved._]
“OUR HERO.”
A TALE OF THE FRANCO-ENGLISH WAR NINETY YEARS AGO.
BY AGNES GIBERNE, Author of “Sun, Moon and Stars,” “The Girl at the
Dower House,” etc.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A BARRED WINDOW.
How the next fortnight passed, Roy never afterwards could recall. He
was sick and dazed with the shock he had had, grieving for Will Peirce,
and all but hopeless. He had ceased to care for food, and, though he
slept much, passing hours at a time in heavy doze, it was not the kind
of sleep to rest him. Life at this time seemed awfully hard to live.
Sometimes he envied little Will.
The Colonel, who had spoken to him that day, spoke to him again often
when they met in the yard; and Roy was grateful, but he could not rouse
himself. He had lost all interest in what went on around him. He hated
the yard, and he always kept as far as possible from the spot where
that terrible exposure had taken place.
His one longing was to know how the other poor boys in the hospital
were; but accounts in that direction were uncertain and not to be
relied upon.
About a fortnight later, one cold afternoon, he was leaning against the
wall at the further end, hardly thinking, only drearily enduring. He
became aware of a man coming across the yard, carrying a large basket,
or _hotte_, piled up with loose wood—not a gendarme, but evidently one
employed in the fortress on manual work.
Something about the fellow arrested Roy’s attention, though why it
should be so Roy had no idea. He was of medium height, broad-shouldered
and long-limbed, and he walked in a slouching manner. As he drew near
the basket tilted over, raining the whole mass of wood at Roy’s feet.
“Hallo!” exclaimed Roy.
The man muttered something, and went slowly down upon his knees to pick
up the wood. No one else was near. A body of prisoners had been that
morning removed elsewhere, and the yard was not so full as usual. Roy,
after a moment’s hesitation, good-naturedly bent to help; and as he did
so, their faces came close together.
“Hist!” was whispered cautiously.
Roy started.
“Hist!”—again. “Does monsieur know me? But not a word—hist!”
Roy drew one quick breath. Then he picked up more pieces of wood,
tossing them into the _hotte_. He cast another glance at the man,
his whole being on the alert. In an instant he saw again the small
French town, the crowd in front of the _hôtel de ville_, the released
conscript, the old mother clinging to Denham’s hands, and Denham’s
compassionate face. All was clear.
“Jean Paulet,” he breathed.
“Hist!”—softly.
“But—you are he?”
“Oui, M’sieu.”
Jean piled some of the wood together, with unnecessary fuss and noise.
“Will M’sieu not betray that he has seen me before? It is important.”
“Oui.”
Roy tossed two more bits of wood into the _hotte_. Then he stood up,
yawned, and stared listlessly in another direction. After which he hung
lazily over the _hotte_, as if to play with the wood, and under cover
of it a touch of cold steel came against his left hand.
“Hist!”—at the same instant.
Roy grasped and slipped the something securely out of reach and out of
sight, without a moment’s hesitation. His right hand still turned over
the wood.
“Bon!” Jean murmured, making a considerable clatter. Then, low and
clearly—“Listen! If M’sieu will file away the bar of his window—ready
to be removed—I will be there outside, to-morrow night after dark. When
M’sieu hears a whistle—hist! But truly this weight is considerable—oui,
M’sieu—and a poor man like me may not complain.”
Jean hitched up the big _hotte_, now full, and passed on, grumbling
audibly, while Roy strolled back to his former position. His heart was
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THE WORKS OF ROBERT G. INGERSOLL
By Robert G. Ingersoll
"HAPPINESS IS THE ONLY GOOD, REASON THE ONLY
TORCH, JUSTICE THE ONLY WORSHIP, HUMANITY THE
ONLY RELIGION, AND LOVE THE ONLY PRIEST."
IN TWELVE VOLUMES, VOLUME VIII.
INTERVIEWS
1900
Dresden Edition
INTERVIEWS
THE BIBLE AND A FUTURE LIFE
_Question_. Colonel, are your views of religion based upon the
Bible?
_Answer_. I regard the Bible, especially the Old Testament, the
same as I do most other ancient books, in which there is some truth,
a great deal of error, considerable barbarism and a most plentiful
lack of good sense.
_Question_. Have you found any other work, sacred or profane,
which you regard as more reliable?
_Answer_. I know of no book less so, in my judgment.
_Question_. You have studied the Bible attentively, have you not?
_Answer_. I have read the Bible. I have heard it talked about a
good deal, and am sufficiently well acquainted with it to justify
my own mind in utterly rejecting all claims made for its divine
origin.
_Question_. What do you base your views upon?
_Answer_. On reason, observation, experience, upon the discoveries
in science, upon observed facts and the analogies properly growing
out of such facts. I have no confidence in anything pretending to
be outside, or independent of, or in any manner above nature.
_Question_. According to your views, what disposition is made of
man after death?
_Answer_. Upon that subject I know nothing. It is no more wonderful
that man should live again than he now lives; upon that question
I know of no evidence. The doctrine of immortality rests upon
human affection. We love, therefore we wish to live.
_Question_. Then you would not undertake to say what becomes of
man after death?
_Answer_. If I told or pretended to know what becomes of man after
death, I would be as dogmatic as are theologians upon this question.
The difference between them and me is, I am honest. I admit that
I do not know.
_Question_. Judging by your criticism of mankind, Colonel, in your
recent lecture, you have not found his condition very satisfactory?
_Answer_. Nature, outside of man, so far as I know, is neither
cruel nor merciful. I am not satisfied with the present condition
of the human race, nor with the condition of man during any period
of which we have any knowledge. I believe, however, the condition
of man is improved, and this improvement is due to his own exertions.
I do not make nature a being. I do not ascribe to nature
intentions.
_Question_. Is your theory, Colonel, the result of investigation
of the subject?
_Answer_. No one can control his own opinion or his own belief.
My belief was forced upon me by my surroundings. I am the product
of all circumstances that have in any way touched me. I believe
in this world. I have no confidence in any religion promising joys
in another world at the expense of liberty and happiness in this.
At the same time, I wish to give others all the rights I claim for
myself.
_Question_. If I asked for proofs for your theory, what would you
furnish?
_Answer_. The experience of every man who is honest with himself,
every fact that has been discovered in nature. In addition to
these, the utter and total failure of all religionists in all
countries to produce one particle of evidence showing the existence
of any supernatural power whatever, and the further fact that the
people are not satisfied with their religion. They are continually
asking for evidence. They are asking it in every imaginable way.
The sects are continually dividing. There is no real religious
serenity in the world. All religions are opponents of intellectual
liberty. I believe in absolute mental freedom. Real religion with
me is a thing not of the head, but of the heart; not a theory, not
a creed, but a life.
_Question_. What punishment, then, is inflicted upon man for his
crimes and wrongs committed in this life?
_Answer_. There is no such thing as intellectual crime. No man
can commit a mental crime. To become a crime it must go beyond
thought.
_Question_. What punishment is there for physical crime?
_Answer_. Such punishment as is necessary to protect society and
for the reformation of the criminal.
_Question_. If there is only punishment in this world, will not
some escape punishment?
_Answer_. I admit that all do not seem to be punished as they
deserve. I also admit that all do not seem to be rewarded as they
deserve; and there is in this world, apparently, as great failures
in matter of reward as in matter of punishment. If there is another
life, a man will be happier there for acting according to his
highest ideal in this. But I do not discern in | 286.722859 | 1,379 |
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REMINISCENCES OF SERVICE
WITH THE
FIRST VOLUNTEER REGIMENT
OF GEORGIA,
CHARLESTON HARBOR, IN 1863.
AN ADDRESS
DELIVERED BEFORE THE
GEORGIA HISTORICAL SOCIETY,
MARCH 3, 1879.
BY COLONEL CHARLES H. OLMSTEAD.
SAVANNAH, GA.:
PRINTED AND PRESENTED BY J. H. ESTILL,
PROPRIETOR MORNING NEWS,
1879.
ANNALS OF THE WAR.
In preparing the following paper, it has been my desire only to record
what its title suggests--personal reminiscences.
Leaving to other and abler pens the task of writing an accurate
history of the scenes and events to which reference is now about to be
made, I shall confine myself simply to the task of setting down such
things as came under my personal observation, or within the scope of
my individual knowledge.
I do this the more confidently, remembering the marked interest that
invariably attaches to the testimony of an eyewitness, and also
bearing in mind (for my own comfort) that this interest will always
incline his hearers to leniency in judging literary demerits. It is
probable, too, that some of my old comrades will be pleased at this
recurrence to an eventful period in their lives, while a younger
generation in the ranks may be glad to have placed before them a
record, not of the "pomp and circumstance of glorious war," but of its
privations, its hardships, its perils, and, it may be added, its
lessons of self-abnegation and of devotion to duty.
Early in the month of July, 1863, while stationed very comfortably at
the Isle of Hope, a courier, "spurring in hot haste," brought orders
from Department headquarters that set our camp at once in a turmoil of
eager and excited preparation. The 32d Georgia, Col. George P.
Harrison, Jr., the 12th and 18th Georgia Battalions, Lieut.-Col. H. D.
Capers and Major W. S. Basinger, and a battalion from the First
Volunteer Regiment of Georgia, were ordered to proceed with the least
possible delay to Savannah, there to take cars for Charleston.
A private note at the same time brought the intelligence that that
city, so long threatened, and, indeed, once already assailed by sea,
was now to undergo a vigorous and combined attack from both land and
naval forces. The day was an eventful one to us without this
additional stimulant. In the morning we had received the sad news of
the fall of Vicksburg and the consequent opening of the Mississippi
river to the Federal fleet, from the mountains to the sea, a disaster
that secured to the enemy the grand object of his most strenuous
exertions, while it severed the young Confederacy in twain and
deprived our armies east of the river of all the aid and comfort in
the way of material supplies and gallant recruits, that had been so
long and so freely drawn from the west bank. We had just learned, too,
of the check received by General Lee at the battle of Gettysburg, and
now came the summons to tell that our turn had come for a little
squeeze in the folds of the traditional "Anaconda," that the New York
_Herald_ had so graphically depicted as encircling the South.
The men received the orders with enthusiasm--indeed, when was it
otherwise with the Southern soldier. Thoroughly conversant, as they
all were, with the details of the war, they could not but be depressed
by the news of such grave reverses to our arms as the morning's mail
had brought them, and they gladly welcomed the relief that active
service promised from the tedium of camp life, and the necessity of
thinking upon melancholy subjects.
Our march began in the midst of a terrific thunder-storm that had the
effect, not only of cooling down any overplus of excitement, but also
of rendering the road to the city almost a quagmire throughout its
entire length.
There are pleasanter ways of spending a summer's evening than in
trudging for eight miles, through mud and rain, in heavy marching
order; but upon this, as on similar occasions during the war, I was
deeply impressed by the uncomplaining patience and cheerfulness with
which the men endured hardships that few would care to face now, but
which, then, were regarded as mere matters of course--distasteful,
certainly--but not worth talking about.
The storm delayed our march considerably, and upon reaching the depot
we found that the 32d Regiment, which had been stationed | 286.768672 | 1,380 |
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The earth is moving, the universe is working, all the laws of creation
are working toward justice, toward a better humanity, toward a higher
ideal, toward a time when men will be brothers the world over.
Industrial Conspiracies
By CLARENCE S. DARROW
Noted Lawyer, Philosopher, Author and Humanitarian
=Price 10c=
The earth is moving, the universe is working, all the laws of creation
are working toward justice, toward a better humanity, toward a higher
ideal, toward a time when men will be brothers the world over.
Industrial Conspiracies
BY CLARENCE S. DARROW
Noted Lawyer, Philosopher, Author and Humanitarian
Lecture delivered in Heilig Theatre, Portland, Oregon, September 10,
1912.
Stenographically reported and published by permission of the author.
Published by Turner, Newman and Knispel,
Address Box 701 Portland, Ore.
Single copies of this lecture may be had by sending 10 cents to
publishers, 100 copies $6.00, $50.00 per thousand.
Orders must be accompanied by cash or money order. Postage will be
prepaid.
Make checks payable to Otto Newman, Publisher.
Box 701, Portland, Oregon.
=ALL RIGHTS RESERVED=
Publisher's Note.--This address was delivered shortly after Mr.
Darrow's triumphant acquittal on a charge growing out of his defense
of the McNamaras at Los Angeles, California. The man, the subject
and the occasion makes it one of the greatest speeches of our time.
It is the hope of the publishers that this message of Mr. Darrow's
may reach the millions of men, women and youth of our country, that
they may see the labor problem plainer and that they may receive hope
and inspiration in their efforts to make a better and juster world.
PAUL TURNER,
OTTO NEWMAN,
JULIUS KNISPEL.
Copyright, October 3, 1912, by Turner, Newman & Knispel.
Industrial Conspiracies
By CLARENCE S. DARROW
Mr. Darrow said:
I feel very grateful to you for the warmth and earnestness of your
reception. It makes me feel sure that I am amongst friends. If I had
to be tried again, I would not mind taking a change of venue to
Portland (applause); although I think I can get along where I am
without much difficulty.
The subject for tonight's talk was not chosen by me but was chosen for
me. I don't know who chose it, nor just what they expected me to say,
but there is not much in a name, and I suppose what I say tonight
would be just about the same under any title that anybody saw fit to
give.
I am told that I am going to talk about "Industrial Conspiracies." I
ought to know something about them. And I won't tell you all I know
tonight, but I will tell you some things that I know tonight.
The conspiracy laws, you know, are very old. As one prominent laboring
man said on the witness stand down in Los Angeles a few weeks ago when
they asked him if he was not under indictment and what for, he said he
was under indictment for the charge they always made against working
men when they hadn't done anything--conspiracy. And that is the charge
they always make. It is the one they have always made against
everybody when they wanted them, and particularly against working men,
because they want them oftener than they do anybody else. (Applause).
When they want a working man for anything excepting work they want him
for conspiracy. (Laughter). And the greatest conspiracy that is
possible for a working man to be guilty of is not to work--a
conspiracy the other fellows are always guilty of. (Applause). The
conspiracy laws are very old. They were very much in favor in the Star
Chamber days in England. If any king or ruler wanted to get rid of
someone, and that someone had not done anything, they indicted him for
what he was thinking about; that is, for conspiracy; and under it they
could prove anything that he ever said or did, and anything that
anybody else ever said or did to prove what he was thinking about; and
therefore that he was guilty. And, of course, | 286.831787 | 1,381 |
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THE TURN OF THE SCREW
by Henry James
[The text is take from the first American appearance of this book.]
THE TURN OF THE SCREW
The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but
except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve
in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be, I remember no
comment uttered till somebody happened to say that it was the only case
he had met in which such a visitation had fallen on a child. The case, I
may mention, was that of an apparition in just such an old house as had
gathered us for the occasion--an appearance, of a dreadful kind, to a
little boy sleeping in the room with his mother and waking her up in the
terror of it; waking her not to dissipate his dread and soothe him to
sleep again, but to encounter also, herself, before she had succeeded
in doing so, the same sight that had shaken him. It was this observation
that drew from Douglas--not immediately, but later in the evening--a
reply that had the interesting consequence to which I call attention.
Someone else told a story not particularly effective, which I saw he was
not following. This I took for a sign that he had himself something to
produce and that we should only have to wait. We waited in fact till two
nights later; but that same evening, before we scattered, he brought out
what was in his mind.
"I quite agree--in regard to Griffin's ghost, or whatever it was--that
its appearing first to the little boy, at so tender an age, adds a
particular touch. But it's not the first occurrence of its charming
kind that I know to have involved a child. If the child gives the effect
another turn of the screw, what do you say to TWO children--?"
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Produced by Sandra Laythorpe and Others
LIFE OF JOHN COLERIDGE PATTESON:
MISSIONARY BISHOP OF THE MELANESIAN ISLANDS
By Charlotte Mary Yonge
Transcriber's note: This Etext of the Life of John Coleridge Patteson:
Missionary Bishop of the Melanesian Islands, by Charlotte Mary Yonge
was prepared by Sandra Laythorpe and others. More information about the
history of the Anglican Church may be found at Project Canterbury A web
page for Charlotte M Yonge may be found at www.menorot.com/cmyonge.htm.
PREFACE.
There are of course peculiar advantages as well as disadvantages in
endeavouring to write the life of one recently departed. On the
one hand, the remembrances connected with him are far fresher; his
contemporaries can he consulted, and much can be made matter of
certainty, for which a few years would have made it necessary to trust
to hearsay or probable conjecture. On the other, there is necessarily
much more reserve; nor are the results of the actions, nor even their
comparative importance, so clearly discernible as when there has been
time to ripen the fruit.
These latter drawbacks are doubled when the subject of the biography has
passed away in comparatively early life: when the persons with whom his
life is chiefly interwoven are still in full activity; and when he has
only lived to sow his seed in many waters, and has barely gathered any
portion of his harvest.
Thus what I have written of Bishop Patteson, far more what I have
copied of his letters, is necessarily only partial, although his nearest
relations and closest friends have most kindly permitted the full use
of all that could build up a complete idea of the man as he was. Many
letters relate to home and family matters, such as it would be useless
and impertinent to divulge; and yet it is necessary to mention that
these exist, because without them we might not know how deep was the
lonely man's interest and sympathy in all that concerned his kindred
and friends. Other letters only repeat the narrative or the reflections
given elsewhere; and of these, it has seemed best only to print that
which appeared to have the fullest or the clearest expression. In
general, the story is best told in letters to the home party; while
thoughts are generally best expressed in the correspondence with Sir
John Taylor Coleridge, to whom the Nephew seems to have written with
a kind of unconscious carefulness of diction. There is as voluminous
a correspondence with the Brother, and letters to many Cousins; but as
these either repeat the same adventures or else are purely domestic,
they have been little brought forward, except where any gap occurred in
the correspondence which has formed the staple material.
Letters upon the unhappy Maori war have been purposely omitted; and, as
far as possible, such criticisms on living personages as it seemed fair
towards the writer to omit. Criticisms upon their publications are of
course a different thing. My desire has been to give enough expression
of Bishop Patteson's opinions upon Church and State affairs, to
represent his manner of thinking, without transcribing every detail of
remarks, which were often made upon an imperfect report, and were,
in fact, only written down, instead of spoken and forgotten, because
correspondence served him instead of conversation.
I think I have represented fairly, for I have done my best faithfully
to select passages giving his mind even where it does not coincide
completely with my own opinions; being quite convinced that not only
should a biographer never attempt either to twist or conceal the
sentiments of the subject, but that either to apologise for, or as it
were to argue with them, is vain in both senses of the word.
The real disadvantage of the work is my own very slight personal
acquaintance with the externals of the man, and my ignorance of the
scenes in which the chief part of his life was passed. There are those
who would have been far more qualified in these respects than myself,
and, above all, in that full and sympathetic masculine grasp of a man's
powerful mind, which is necessarily denied to me. But these fittest of
all being withheld by causes which are too well known to need mention,
I could only endeavour to fulfil the work as best I might; trusting
that these unavoidable deficiencies may be supplied, partly by Coleridge
Patteson's own habit of writing unreservedly, so that he speaks for
himself, and partly by the very full notes and records with which his
friends have kindly supplied me, portraying him from their point of
view; so that I could really trust that little more was needed than
ordinary judgment in connecting and selecting. Nor until the work is
less fresh from my hand will it be possible to judge whether I have
in any way been allowed to succeed in my earnest hope and endeavour to
bring the statue out of the block, and as it were to carve the figure of
the Saint for his niche among those who have given themselves soul and
body to God's Work.
It has been an almost solemn work of anxiety, as well as one of love.
May I only have succeeded in causing these letters and descriptions to
leave a true and definite impression of the man and of his example!
Let me here record my obligations for materials--I need hardly say to
the immediate family and relations--for, | 286.998036 | 1,383 |
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[Transcriber's note: This is the third of a series of four novels by
Susan Warner, all of which are in the Project Gutenberg collection:
1. What She Could
2. Opportunities
3. The House in Town
4. Trading]
THE
HOUSE IN TOWN.
A Sequel to "Opportunities."
BY
THE AUTHOR OF
"THE WIDE WIDE WORLD."
"No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life;
that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier."--2 TIM.
ii. 4.
NEW YORK:
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,
530 BROADWAY.
1872.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
CAMBRIDGE:
PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.
THE HOUSE IN TOWN.
CHAPTER I.
"Oh Norton! Oh Norton! do you know what has happened?"
Matilda had left the study and rushed out into the dining-room to tell
her news, if indeed it were news to Norton. She had heard his step.
Norton seemed in a preoccupied state of mind.
"Yes!" he said. "I know that confounded shoemaker has left something in
the heel of my boot which is killing me."
Matilda was not like some children. She could wait; and she waited,
while Norton pulled off his boot, made examinations into the interior,
and went stoutly to work with penknife and file. In the midst of it he
looked up, and asked,--
"What has happened to _you_, Pink?"
"Then don't you know yet, Norton?"
"Of course not. I would fine all shoemakers who leave their work in
such a slovenly state! If I didn't limp all the way from the bridge
here, it was because I wouldn't,--not because I wouldn't like to."
"Why not limp, if it saved your foot?" inquired Matilda.
"_You_ would, Pink, wouldn't you?"
"Why, yes; certainly I would."
"Well, you might," said Norton. "But did you ever read the story of the
Spartan boy and the fox?"
"No."
"He stole a fox," said Norton, working away at the inside of his boot,
which gave him some trouble.
"But you haven't stolen a fox."
"I should think not," said Norton. "The boy carried the fox home under
his cloak; and it was not a tame fox, Pink, by any means, and did not
like being.carried, I suppose; and it cut and bit and tore at the boy
all the while, under his cloak; so that by the time he got the fox
home, it had made an end of him."
"Why didn't he let the fox go?"
"Ah! why didn't he?" said Norton. "He was a boy, and he would have been
ashamed."
"And you would have been ashamed to limp in the street, Norton?"
"For a nail in my boot. What is a man good for, that can't stand
anything?"
"I should not have been ashamed at all."
"You're a girl," said Norton approvingly. "It is a different thing.
What is your news, Pink?"
"But Norton, I don't see why it is a different thing. Why should not a
woman be as brave as a man, and as strong,--in one way?"
"I suppose, because she is not as strong in the other way. She hasn't
got it to do, Pink, that's all. But a man, or a boy, that can't bear
anything without limping, is a muff; that's the whole of it."
"A muff's a nice thing," said Matilda laughing.
"Not if it's a boy," said Norton. "Go on with your news, Pink. What is
it?"
"I wonder if you know. Oh Norton, do you know what your mother and Mr.
Richmond have been talking about?"
"I wasn't there," said Norton. "If you were, you may tell me."
"I was not there. But Mr. Richmond has been talking to me about it.
Norton,"--and Matilda's voice sank,--"do you know, they have been
arranging, and your mother wishes it, that I should _stay_ with her?"
Matilda spoke the last words very softly, in the manner of one who
makes a communication of somewhat awful character; and in truth it had
a kind of awe for her. Evidently not for Norton. He had almost finished
his boot, and he kept on with his filing, as coolly as if what Matilda
said had no particular interest or novelty. She would have been
disappointed, but that she had caught one gleam from Norton's eye which
flashed like an electric spark. She just caught it, and then Norton
went on calmly,--
"I think that is a very sensible arrangement, Pink. I must say, it is
not the first time it has occurred to me."
"Then you knew it before?"
"I did not know they had settled it," said Norton, still coolly.
"But you knew it was talked about? O Norton! why didn't you tell me?"
Norton looked up, smiled, dropped his boot, and at once took his new
little sister in his arms and clasped her right heartily.
"What for should I tell you, Pink?" he said, kissing Matilda's eyes,
where the tears of that incipient disappointment had gathered.
"How could you _help_ telling me?"
"Ah, that is another thing," said Norton. "You couldn't have helped it,
could you?"
"But it is true now, Norton."
"Ay, it is true; and you belong to mamma and me now, Pink; and to
nobody else in the wide world. Isn't that jolly?"
"And to Mr. Richmond," Matilda added.
"Not a bit to Mr. Richmond; not a fraction," said Norton. "He may be
your guardian and your minister if you like; and I like him too; he's a
brick; but you belong to nobody in the whole world but mamma and me."
"Well, Norton," said Matilda, with a sigh of pleasure--"I'm glad."
"Glad!" said Norton. "Now come,--let us sit right down and see some of
the things we'll do."
"Yes. But no, Norton; I must get Mr. Richmond's supper. I shall not
have many times more to do that; Miss Redwood will be soon home, you
know."
"And we too, I hope. I declare, Pink, I believe you like getting
supper. Here goes! What is to do?"
"Nothing, for you, Norton."
"Kettle on?"
"On ages ago. You may see if it is boiling."
"How can an iron kettle boil? If you'll tell me that."
"Why, the water boils that is in it. The kettle is put for the water."
"And what right have you to put the kettle for the water? At that rate,
one might do all sorts of things--Now Pink, how can I tell if the water
boils? The steam is coming out of the nose."
"_That's_ no sign, Norton. Does it sing?"
"Sing!" said Norton. "I never learned kettle music. No, I don't think
it does. It bubbles; the water in it I mean."
Matilda came in laughing. "No," she said, "it has stopped singing; and
now it boils. The steam is coming out from under the cover. _That's_ a
sign. Now, Norton, if you like, you may make a nice plate of toast, and
I'll butter it. Mr. Richmond likes toast, and he is tired to-night, I
know."
"I can't make a plate," said Norton; "but I'll try for the toast. Is it
good for people that are tired?"
"Anything comfortable is, Norton."
"I wouldn't be a minister!" said Norton softly, as he carefully turned
and toasted the bread,--"I would not be a minister, for as much as you
could give me."
"Why, Norton? I think I would--if I was a man."
"He has no comfort of his life," said Norton. "This sort of a minister
doesn't have. He is always going, going; and running to see people that
want him, and stupid people too; he has to talk to them, all the same
as if they were clever, and put up with them; and he's always working
at his sermons and getting broken off. What comfort of his life does
Mr. Richmond have now? except when you and I make toast for him?"
"O Norton, I think he has a great deal."
"I don't see it."
Matilda stood wondering, and then smiled; the comfort of _her_ life was
so much just then. The slices of toast were getting brown and buttered,
and made a savory smell all through the kitchen; and now Matilda made
the tea, and the flowery fragrance of that added another item to what
seemed the great stock of pleasure that afternoon. As Miss Redwood had
once said, the minister knew a cup of good tea when he saw it; and it
was one of the few luxuries he ever took pains to secure; and the
sweetness of it now in the little parsonage kitchen was something very
delicious. Then Matilda went and put her head in at the study door.
"Tea is ready, Mr. Richmond."
But the minister did not immediately obey the summons, and the two
children stood behind their respective chairs, waiting. Matilda's face
was towards the western windows.
"Are you very miserable, Pink?" said Norton, watching her.
"I am so happy, Norton!"
"I want to get home now," said Norton, drumming upon his chair. "I want
you there. You belong to mamma and me, and to nobody else in the whole
world, Pink; do you know that?"
Except Mr. Richmond--was again in Matilda's thoughts; but she did not
say it this time. It was nothing against Norton's claim.
"Where _is_ the minister?" Norton went on. "You called him."
"O he has got some stupid body with him, keeping him from tea."
"That is what I said," Norton repeated. "I wouldn't live such a
life--not for money."
Mr. Richmond came however at this moment, looking not at all miserable;
glanced at the two happy faces with a bright eye; then for an instant
they were still, while the sweet willing words of prayer went up from
lips and heart to bless the board.
"What is it that you would not do for money, Norton?" Mr. Richmond
asked as he received his cup of tea.
Norton hesitated and coloured. Matilda spoke for him.
"Mr. Richmond, may we ask you something?"
"Certainly!" said the minister, with a quick look at the two faces.
"If you wouldn't think it wrong for us to ask.--Is the--I mean, do you
think,--the life of a minister is a very hard one?"
"So that is the question, is it?" said Mr. Richmond smiling. "Is Norton
thinking of taking the situation?"
"Norton thinks it cannot be a comfortable life, Mr. Richmond; and I
thought he was mistaken."
"What do you suppose a minister's business is, Norton? that is the
first consideration. You must know what a man has to do, before you can
judge whether it is hard to do it."
"I thought I knew, sir."
"Yes, I suppose so; but it don't follow that you do."
"I know part," said Norton. "A minister has to preach sermons, and
marry people, and baptize children, and read prayers at funerals and--"
"Go on," said Mr. Richmond.
"I was going to say, it seems to me, he has to talk to everybody that
wants to talk to him."
"How do you get along with that difficulty?" said Mr. Richmond. "It
attacks other people besides ministers."
"I dodge them," said Norton. "But a minister cannot,--can he, sir?"
Mr. Richmond laughed.
"Well, Norton," he said, "you have given a somewhat sketchy outline of
a minister's life; but my question remains yet,--what is the business
of his life. You would not say that planing and sawing are the business
of a carpenter's life--would you?"
"No, sir."
"What then?"
"Building houses, and ships, and barns, and bridges."
"And a tailor's life is not cutting and snipping, but making clothes.
So my commission is not to make sermons. What is it?"
Norton looked at a loss, and expectant; Matilda enjoying.
"The same that was given to the apostle Paul, and no worse. I am sent
to people 'to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light,
and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness
of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified.'"
"But I do not understand, Mr. Richmond," said Norton, after a little
pause.
"What?"
"If you will excuse me. I do not understand that. Can you open people's
eyes?"
"He who sends me does that, by means of the message which I carry. 'How
can they believe on him of whom they have not heard?'"
"I see--" said Norton very respectfully.
"You see, I am the King's messenger. And my business is, to carry the
King's message. It is possible to make sermons, and not do that."
"I don't think I ever heard the message, or anything that sounded like
a message, in our church," said Norton.
"Do you know what the message is?"
Norton looked up from his toast and seemed a little taken aback.
"You might have heard it without knowing it"
"Might I? What is the message, sir?"
"This is it. That God wants and calls for the love of every human
heart; and that on his part he loves us so well, as to give his own Son
to die for us, that we might be saved through him."
"Why to _die_ for us?" inquired Norton.
"Because we all deserved to die, and he took our place. 'He tasted
death for every man.' So for you and for me. What do we owe to one who
gave his life to ransom ours?"
"I see,"--said Norton again thoughtfully. "But Mr. Richmond, people do
not always hear the message--do they?"
"You can tell," said Mr. Richmond, shortly.
"I see!" repeated Norton. "It isn't making sermons. I don't see,
though, why it isn't a hard life."
"That requires another explanation, but it is not difficult. How would
one naturally feel, Norton, towards another, who by his own suffering
and death had saved him when he was bound to die?"
"You mean, who had done it on purpose?" said Norton.
"On purpose. Just because he loved the lost one."
"Why," said Norton, "if the man had any heart in him"--
"Well? What then?"
"Why, he wouldn't think that his _hand_ was his own."
"He would belong to his redeemer?"
"Yes, sir."
"So I think, Norton. Then, tell me, do you think it would be hard work
to do anything to please or serve such a friend? Would even hardships
seem hard?"
"I can't think what _would_ seem hard," said Norton eagerly.
But then a silence fell upon the little party. Matilda had opened all
her ears to hear Norton speak in this manner; she was excited; she
almost thought that he was about to enter into the life he seemed to
understand so well; but Mr. Richmond went on with his tea quite
composedly, and Norton was a little embarrassed. What was the matter?
Matilda wished some one would speak again; but Mr. Richmond sent his
cup to be filled, and stirred it, and took another piece of toast, and
Norton never raised his eyes from his plate.
"That idea is new to you, my boy?" said Mr. Richmond at last, smiling.
"I never--well, yes;--I do not understand those things," said Norton.
"You understood _this?_"
"Your words; yes, sir."
"And the thing which my words meant?"
"I suppose--yes, I suppose I do," said Norton.
"Do you understand the bearing of it on all of us three at the table."
Norton looked up inquiringly.
"You comprehend how it touches me?"
"Yes, sir,"--Norton answered with profound respect in eye and voice.
"And Matilda?"
The boy's eye went quick and sharp to the little figure at the head of
the table. What his look meant, Matilda could not tell; and he did not
speak.
"You comprehend how it touches Matilda?" Mr. Richmond repeated.
"No, sir," was answered rather stoutly. It had very much the air of not
wanting to know.
"You should understand, if you are to live in the same house together.
The same Friend has done the same kindness for Matilda that he has done
for me; he has given himself to death that she might live; and she has
heard it and believed it, and obeyed his voice and become his servant.
What sort of life ought she to live?"
Norton stared at Mr. Richmond, not in the least rudely, but like one
very much discomfited. He looked as if he were puzzling to find his way
out of a trap. But Matilda clapped her hands together, exclaiming,
"I am so glad Norton understands that! I never could make him
understand it."
"Why you never tried," said Norton.
"O yes, I did, Norton; in different ways. I suppose I never said it so
that you could understand it."
"I don't understand it now," said Norton.
"O Mr. Richmond! don't he?" said Matilda.
"Tell him," said the minister. "Perhaps you put it too cautiously. Tell
him in words that he cannot mistake, what sort of life you mean to
lead."
The little girl hesitated and looked at Norton. Norton, like one acting
under protest, looked at her. They waited, questioning each other's
faces.
"It is that, Norton," Matilda said at last very gently, and with a sort
of tenderness in tone and manner which spoke for her. "It is just that
you said. I do not think that my _hand_ is my own."
Norton looked at the little hand unconsciously extended to point her
words, as if he would have liked to confiscate it; he made no reply,
but turned to his supper again. The conversation had taken a turn he
did not welcome.
"We have not done with the subject," Mr. Richmond went on. "You | 287.351433 | 1,384 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Draw Swords! by George Manville Fenn.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
DRAW SWORDS! BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
A FEATHER IN HIS CAP.
"Oh, I say, what a jolly shame!"
"Get out; it's all gammon. Likely."
"I believe it's true. Dick Darrell's a regular pet of Sir George
Hemsworth."
"Yes; the old story--kissing goes by favour."
"I shall cut the service. It's rank favouritism."
"I shall write home and tell my father to get the thing shown up in the
House of Commons."
"Why, he's only been out here a year."
Richard Darrell, a well-grown boy of seventeen, pretty well tanned by
the sun of India, stood flashed with annoyance, looking sharply from one
speaker to another as he stood in the broad veranda of the officers'
quarters in the Roumwallah Cantonments in the northern portion of the
Bengal Presidency, the headquarters of the artillery belonging to the
Honourable the East India Company, commonly personified as "John Company
of Leadenhall Street." It was over sixty years ago, in the days when,
after a careful training at the Company's college near Croydon, young
men, or, to be more correct, boys who had made their marks, received
their commission, and were sent out to join the batteries of artillery,
by whose means more than anything else the Company had by slow degrees
conquered and held the greater part of the vast country now fully added
to the empire and ruled over by the Queen.
It was a common affair then for a lad who had been a schoolboy of
sixteen, going on with his studies one day, to find himself the next, as
it were, a commissioned officer, ready to start for the East, to take
his position in a regiment and lead stalwart men, either in the
artillery or one of the native regiments; though, of course, a great
deal of the college training had been of a military stamp.
This was Richard Darrell's position one fine autumn morning a year
previous to the opening of this narrative. He had bidden farewell to
father, mother, and Old England, promised to do his duty like a man, and
sailed for Calcutta, joined his battery, served steadily in it for a
year, and now stood in his quiet artillery undress uniform in that
veranda, looking like a strange dog being bayed at by an angry pack.
The pack consisted of young officers of his own age and under. There
was not a bit of whisker to be seen; and as to moustache, not a lad
could show half as much as Dick, while his wouldn't have made a
respectable eyebrow for a little girl of four.
Dick was flushed with pleasurable excitement, doubly flushed with anger;
but he kept his temper down, and let his companions bully and hector and
fume till they were tired.
Then he gave an important-looking blue letter he held a bit of a wave,
and said, "It's no use to be jealous."
"Pooh! Who's jealous--and of you?" said the smallest boy present, one
who had very high heels to his boots. "That's too good."
"For, as to being a favourite with the general, he has never taken the
slightest notice of me since I joined."
"There, that'll do," said one of the party; "a man can't help feeling
disappointment. Every one is sure to feel so except the one who gets
the stroke of luck. I say, `Hurrah for Dick Darrell!'"
The others joined in congratulations now.
"I say, old chap, though," said one, "what a swell you'll be!"
"Yes; won't he? We shall run against him capering about on his spirited
Arab, while we poor fellows are trudging along in the hot sand behind
the heavy guns."
"Don't cut us, Dick, old chap," said another.
"He won't; he's not that sort," cried yet another. "I say, we must give
him a good send-off."
"When are you going?"
"The despatch says as soon as possible."
"But what troop are you to join?"
"The Sixth."
"The Sixth! I know; at Vallumbagh. Why, that's the crack battery,
where the fellows polish the guns and never go any slower than a racing
gallop. I say, you are in luck. Well, I am glad!"
The next minute every one present was ready to declare the same thing,
and for the rest of that day the young officer to whom the good stroke
of fortune had come hardly knew whether he stood upon his head or heels.
The next morning he was summoned to the general's quarters, the quiet,
grave-looking officer telling him that, as an encouragement for his
steady application to master his profession, he had been selected to
fill a vacancy; that the general hoped his progress in the horse brigade
would be as marked as it had been hitherto; and advising him to see at
once about his fresh uniform and accoutrements, which could follow him
afterwards, for he was to be prepared to accompany the general on his
march to Vallumbagh, which would be commenced the very next day.
Dick was not profuse in thanks or promises, but listened quietly, and,
when expected to speak, he merely said that he would do his best.
| 287.472229 | 1,385 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
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Internet Archive)
[Illustration]
THE UNIVERSAL COUNTERFEIT
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71 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
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1853.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1848, by
WHEELER M. GILLETT,
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detecting counterfeit Bank paper and think it useful, especially in
well-executed counterfeits where judgment must depend upon the engraving
alone.
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_New York, Dec. 5th, 1849._ | 287.59575 | 1,386 |
2023-11-16 18:20:34.2816730 | 1,076 | 51 |
Produced by Sue Asscher
EUTHYDEMUS
by Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION.
The Euthydemus, though apt to be regarded by us only as an elaborate
jest, has also a very serious purpose. It may fairly claim to be
the oldest treatise on logic; for that science originates in the
misunderstandings which necessarily accompany the first efforts of
speculation. Several of the fallacies which are satirized in it reappear
in the Sophistici Elenchi of Aristotle and are retained at the end of
our manuals of logic. But if the order of history were followed, they
should be placed not at the end but at the beginning of them; for they
belong to the age in which the human mind was first making the attempt
to distinguish thought from sense, and to separate the universal from
the particular or individual. How to put together words or ideas, how
to escape ambiguities in the meaning of terms or in the structure of
propositions, how to resist the fixed impression of an 'eternal being'
or 'perpetual flux,' how to distinguish between words and things--these
were problems not easy of solution in the infancy of philosophy. They
presented the same kind of difficulty to the half-educated man which
spelling or arithmetic do to the mind of a child. It was long before
the new world of ideas which had been sought after with such passionate
yearning was set in order and made ready for use. To us the fallacies
which arise in the pre-Socratic philosophy are trivial and obsolete
because we are no longer liable to fall into the errors which are
expressed by them. The intellectual world has become better assured to
us, and we are less likely to be imposed upon by illusions of words.
The logic of Aristotle is for the most part latent in the dialogues
of Plato. The nature of definition is explained not by rules but by
examples in the Charmides, Lysis, Laches, Protagoras, Meno, Euthyphro,
Theaetetus, Gorgias, Republic; the nature of division is likewise
illustrated by examples in the Sophist and Statesman; a scheme of
categories is found in the Philebus; the true doctrine of contradiction
is taught, and the fallacy of arguing in a circle is exposed in the
Republic; the nature of synthesis and analysis is graphically described
in the Phaedrus; the nature of words is analysed in the Cratylus; the
form of the syllogism is indicated in the genealogical trees of the
Sophist and Statesman; a true doctrine of predication and an analysis of
the sentence are given in the Sophist; the different meanings of one
and being are worked out in the Parmenides. Here we have most of the
important elements of logic, not yet systematized or reduced to an art
or science, but scattered up and down as they would naturally occur in
ordinary discourse. They are of little or no use or significance to
us; but because we have grown out of the need of them we should not
therefore despise them. They are still interesting and instructive for
the light which they shed on the history of the human mind.
There are indeed many old fallacies which linger among us, and new
ones are constantly springing up. But they are not of the kind to which
ancient logic can be usefully applied. The weapons of common sense, not
the analytics of Aristotle, are needed for their overthrow. Nor is the
use of the Aristotelian logic any longer natural to us. We no longer put
arguments into the form of syllogisms like the schoolmen; the simple use
of language has been, happily, restored to us. Neither do we discuss the
nature of the proposition, nor extract hidden truths from the copula,
nor dispute any longer about nominalism and realism. We do not confuse
the form with the matter of knowledge, or invent laws of thought, or
imagine that any single science furnishes a principle of reasoning to
all the rest. Neither do we require categories or heads of argument to
be invented for our use. Those who have no knowledge of logic, like some
of our great physical philosophers, seem to be quite as good reasoners
as those who have. Most of the ancient puzzles have been settled on the
basis of usage and common sense; there is no need to reopen them. No
science should raise problems or invent forms of thought which add
nothing to knowledge and are of no use in assisting the acquisition of
it. This seems to be the natural limit of logic and metaphysics; if they
give us a more comprehensive or a more definite view of the different
spheres of knowledge they are to be studied; if not, not. The better
part of ancient logic appears hardly in our own day to have a separate
existence; it is absorbed in two other sciences: (1) rhetoric, if indeed
this ancient art be not also fading away into literary criticism; (2 | 287.601083 | 1,387 |
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Internet Archive).
Transcriber's Note:
When italics were used in the original book, the corresponding text has
been surrounded by _underscores_. Superscripted characters have been
preceded by ^ and surrounded by {} when more than one character is
superscripted. Some corrections have been made to the original. These
are detailed in a second transcriber's note at the end of the document.
[Illustration:
_Capt^n. JONATHAN CARVER._
_From the_ Original Picture _in the possession of J.C. Lettsom M.D._
_Published as the Act directs, by R. Stewart, N^o. 287, near G^t.
Turnstile, Holborn Nov^r. 16, 1780._
]
TRAVELS
THROUGH THE
INTERIOR PARTS
OF
NORTH AMERICA,
IN THE
YEARS 1766, 1767, and 1768.
BY J. CARVER, ESQ.
CAPTAIN OF A COMPANY OF PROVINCIAL
TROOPS DURING THE LATE
WAR WITH FRANCE.
ILLUSTRATED WITH COPPER PLATES,
.
THE THIRD EDITION.
To which is added, SOME ACCOUNT OF THE
AUTHOR, AND A COPIOUS INDEX.
LONDON:
Printed for C. DILLY, in the Poultry; H. PAYNE, in Pall-mall; and J.
PHILLIPS, in George-Yard, Lombard-Street.
MDCCLXXXI.
ADVERTISEMENT.
FEW works have had a more rapid sale than the following; two large
editions having been disposed of in two years. This induced the
proprietors to print a third: but, as soon as this impression was
finished, I purchased both the printed copies and the copy-right.
I have since added to the work, some Account of the Author’s life, and
an Index to the Travels, which are published separately, for the
convenience of the purchasers of the first and second editions; on whom,
I was unwilling to raise an extraordinary tax for the third edition.
JOHN COAKLEY LETTSOM.
London, March 30, 1781.
TO
JOSEPH BANKS, Esq;
PRESIDENT
OF THE
ROYAL SOCIETY.
SIR,
WHEN the Public are informed that I have long had the Honour of your
Acquaintance——that my Design in publishing the following Work has
received your Sanction——that the Composition of it has stood the Test of
your Judgment——and that it is by your Permission a Name so deservedly
eminent in the Literary World is prefixed to it, I need not be
apprehensive of its Success; as your Patronage will unquestionably give
them Assurance of its Merit.
For this public Testimony of your Favour, in which I pride myself,
accept, Sir, my most grateful Acknowledgments; and believe me to be,
with great Respect,
Your obedient
humble Servant,
J. CARVER.
AN
ADDRESS
TO THE
PUBLIC.
THE SECOND EDITION.
_The favourable reception this Work has met with, claims the Author’s
most grateful acknowledgments. A large edition having run off in a few
months, and the sale appearing to be still unabated, a new impression is
become necessary. On this occasion was he to conceal his feelings, and
pass over, in silence, a distinction so beneficial and flattering, he
would justly incur the imputation of ingratitude. That he might not do
this, he takes the opportunity, which now presents itself, of conveying
to the Public (though in terms inadequate to the warm emotions of his
heart) the sense he entertains of their favour; and thus transmits to
them his thanks._
_In this new edition, care has been taken to rectify those errors which
have unavoidably proceeded from the hurry of the press, and likewise any
incorrectness in the language that has found its way into it._
_The credibility of some of the incidents related in the following
pages, and some of the stories introduced therein, having been
questioned, particularly the prognostication of the Indian priest on the
banks of Lake Superior, and the story of the Indian and his rattle
snake, the author thinks it necessary to avail himself of the same
opportunity, to endeavour to eradicate any impressions that might have
been made on the minds of his readers, by the apparent improbability of
these relations._
_As to the former, he has related it just as it happened. Being an
eye-witness to the whole transaction (and, he flatters himself, at the
time, free from every trace of sceptical obstinacy or enthusiastic
credulity) he was consequently able to describe every circumstance
minutely and impartially. This he has done; but without endeavouring to
account for the means by which it was accomplished. Whether the
prediction was the result of prior observations, from which certain
consequences were expected to follow by the sagacious priest, and the
completion of it merely accidental; or whether he was really endowed
with supernatural powers, the narrator left to the judgment of his
readers; whose conclusions, he supposes, varied according as the mental
fac | 287.695488 | 1,388 |
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Transcriber's Note: Do NOT attempt these formulas.
CANDY MEDICATION
BY
BERNARD FANTUS, M. D.
Professor of Pharmacology and Therapeutics, College of
Medicine, University of Illinois, Chicago.
[Illustration]
ST. LOUIS
C. V. MOSBY COMPANY
1915
COPYRIGHT 1915, BY C. V. MOSBY COMPANY
_Press of
C. V. Mosby Company
St. Louis_
PREFACE.
CANDY MEDICATION has given such delightful results in practice among
children that the author believes it should be more widely known
and used. A formulary to serve as the common meeting ground for the
prescribing physician and the dispensing pharmacist seems absolutely
necessary to make this form of medication more generally available; and
it is mainly to supply this formulary that this little book has been
published.
Researches conducted by the author in the Pharmacologic Laboratory of
the University of Illinois during the past five years, as well as the
experience gained by the use of this form of medication in private
practice, form the basis of this publication.
To give the best results, the sweet tablets described in this formulary
should be freshly prepared on physician's order; thereby securing
efficiency and palatability to the highest degree, and enabling
the physician to prescribe the dose and combination needed for the
particular case in hand. To bring these tablets into the category of
extemporaneous preparations, the author has elaborated the process of
"fat covering" which makes the preparation of these tablets no more
difficult than the making of pills or of suppositories.
In the pages that precede the formulary, an attempt has been made to
present the principles that have been used in the elaboration of the
formulae, so that formulae for other medicaments suitable to this form
of administration may be developed.
Concise directions on the care and use of the tablet machine have been
included, to enable any pharmacist equipped with an inexpensive tablet
machine to prepare these tablets without difficulty.
The author is keenly aware of the fact that there are probably still
some imperfections in the formulae given herein; though he has
spared neither time nor labor in making them as perfect as possible.
Therefore, comments and criticisms, as well as suggestions, are most
welcome, and will receive careful consideration.
It is the author's hope that this booklet may be instrumental in
robbing childhood of one of its terrors, namely, nasty medicine; that
it may lessen the difficulties experienced by nurse and mother in
giving medicament to the sick child; and help to make the doctor more
popular with the little ones.
BERNARD FANTUS, M.D.
_Chicago, March, 1915._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Historical Introduction 11
II. Tabellae Dulces 14
III. The Uses of Sweet Tablets 16
IV. The Making of Sweet Tablets 23
V. The Tablet Machine 27
VI. The Construction of Formulae for Sweet Tablets 31
Choice of Flavor 31
Subduing of Tastes 31
Choice of Color 34
VII. Formulae for the Preparation of Sweet Tablets 35
VIII. Formulae for Stock Preparations 72
References 75
Index 77
CANDY MEDICATION
CHAPTER I.
HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION.
THE IDEA of presenting medicine in candy form is really very old.
The term confection, which originally meant a medicinal compound
being derived from the Latin word "_conficere_," to put together, has
been applied since the days of classical antiquity to mixtures of
medicinal substances with saccharine matter. The only official relics
of this once very extensive class of preparations are the confection
of rose and the confection of senna; both of which, however, are
also practically obsolete. The reason for this is not difficult to
find. Neither of them come up to our modern ideas of a confection.
We may officially call them a confection, but a youngster would be
disrespectful enough to disagree with the pharmacopoeia.
More closely akin to candy are lozenges, and yet they are not real
candy. The only one among them that is pleasant is the santonin
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[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: "_HARRY'S BLOOD WAS UP._" p. 12]
CARRIED OFF
_A STORY OF PIRATE TIMES_
BY
ESME STUART
AUTHOR OF 'FOR HALF-A-CROWN' 'THE LAST HOPE'
'THE WHITE CHAPEL' ETC.
_WITH FOUR FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONDON
NATIONAL SOCIETY'S DEPOSITORY
BROAD SANCTUARY, WESTMINSTER
NEW YORK: THOMAS WHITTAKER, 2 & 3 BIBLE HOUSE
1888
_TO_
_CLARISSA AND JOHN_
_I dedicate this story, knowing they are already fond of travelling.
They may be glad to hear that the chief events in it are true, and are
taken out of an old book written more than two hundred years ago. Yet
they may now safely visit the West Indies without fear of being made
prisoners by the much dreaded Buccaneers._
_E.S._
[_All rights reserved_]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE SACRIFICE
II. CAPTURED
III. A BEAUTIFUL ISLAND
IV. THE PIRATES ARE COMING
V. THE SCOUTS
VI. HATCHING A PLOT
VII. TREACHERY
VIII. A BRAVE DEFENCE
IX. IMPRISONED
X. A FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN
XI. THE SECRET PASSAGE
XII. A NEW EXPEDITION
XIII. THE ESCAPE
XIV. DEFENCE TILL DEATH
XV. IN THE WOODS
XVI. WAITING FOR LUCK
XVII. DISCOVERED
XVIII. HUNTING A FUGITIVE
XIX. IN A LONELY SPOT
XX. SAVED
XXI. A BAG OF GOLD
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
'HARRY'S BLOOD WAS UP'
CARLO REFUSED ADMISSION (missing from book)
CARLO BEFORE CAPTAIN MORGAN
'SHALL WE LAND?' (missing from book)
CARRIED OFF.
CHAPTER I.
THE SACRIFICE.
It was a beautiful warm spring evening, and as the sun sank slowly in
the west it illuminated with quivering golden light the calm waters that
surrounded green, marshy Canvey Island, which lies opposite South
Benfleet, in the estuary of the Thames.
Harry Fenn had just come out of church, and, as was often his wont, he
ran up a slight hill, and, shading his eyes, looked intently out towards
Canvey and then yet more to his left, where Father Thames clasps hands
with the ocean.
The eminence on which young fair-haired Harry stood was the site of a
strong castle, built long ago by Haesten, the Danish rover, in which he
stowed away Saxon spoil and Saxon prisoners, till King Alfred came down
upon him, pulled down the rover's fortress, seized his wife and his two
sons, and relieved the neighbourhood of this Danish scourge. How often,
indeed, had the peaceful inhabitants trembled at the sight of the sea
robber's narrow war-vessels creeping up the creek in search of plunder!
Harry, however, was not thinking of those ancient days; his whole soul
and mind was in the present, in vague longings for action; full, too, of
young inquisitiveness as to the future, especially his own future, so
that he forgot why he had come to this spot, and did not even hear the
approach of the Rev. Mr. Aylett, who, having been listening to a tale of
distress from one of his parishioners at the end of the evening service,
had now come to enjoy the view from Haesten's hill. As he walked slowly
towards the immovable form of the boy, he could not help being struck by
the lad's graceful outline; the lithe, yet strongly built figure, the
well-balanced head, now thrown back as the eyes sought the distant
horizon; whilst the curly fair locks appeared to have been dashed
impatiently aside, and now were just slightly lifted by the evening
breeze; for Harry Fenn held his cap in his hand as he folded his arms
across his chest. He might have stood for the model of a young Apollo
had any artist been by, but art and artists were unknown things in South
Benfleet at that time.
Mr. Aylett shook his head as he walked towards the lad, even though a
smile of pleasure parted his lips as he noted the comeliness of his
young parishioner, whom | 288.111506 | 1,390 |
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HAGAR
HAGAR
BY
MARY JOHNSTON
[Illustration]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1913
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY MARY JOHNSTON
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Published October 1913_
CONTENTS
I. THE PACKET-BOAT 1
II. GILEAD BALM 8
III. THE DESCENT OF MAN 19
IV. THE CONVICT 30
V. MARIA 45
VI. EGLANTINE 57
VII. MR. LAYDON 70
VIII. HAGAR AND LAYDON 82
IX. ROMEO AND JULIET 92
X. GILEAD BALM 104
XI. THE LETTERS 116
XII. A MEETING 132
XIII. THE NEW SPRINGS 143
XIV. NEW YORK 154
XV. LOOKING FOR THOMASINE 170
XVI. THE MAINES 184
XVII. THE SOCIALIST MEETING 194
XVIII. A TELEGRAM 208
XIX. ALEXANDRIA 221
XX. MEDWAY 231
XXI. AT ROGER MICHAEL'S 244
XXII. HAGAR IN LONDON 257
XXIII. BY THE SEA 266
XXIV. DENNY GAYDE 275
XXV. HAGAR AND DENNY 284
XXVI. GILEAD BALM 300
XXVII. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION 313
XXVIII. NEW YORK AGAIN 323
XXIX. ROSE DARRAGH 332
XXX. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 341
XXXI. JOHN FAY 351
XXXII. RALPH 360
XXXIII. GILEAD BALM 372
XXXIV. BRITTANY 382
HAGAR
HAGAR
CHAPTER I
THE PACKET-BOAT
"_Low Braidge!_"
The people on deck bent over, some until heads touched knees, others,
more exactly calculating, just sufficiently to clear the beams. The
canal-boat passed beneath the bridge, and all straightened themselves
on their camp-stools. The gentlemen who were smoking put their cigars
again between their lips. The two or three ladies resumed book or
knitting. The sun was low, and the sycamores and willows fringing the
banks cast long shadows across the canal. The northern bank was not so
clothed with foliage, and one saw an expanse of bottom land, meadows
and cornfields, and beyond, low mountains, purple in the evening light.
The boat slipped from a stripe of gold into a stripe of shadow, and
from a stripe of shadow into a stripe of gold. The <DW64> and the mule
on the towpath were now but a bit of dusk in motion, and now were lit
and, so to speak, powdered with gold-dust. Now the rope between boat
and towpath showed an arm-thick golden serpent, and now it did not show
at all. Now a little cloud of gnats and flies, accompanying the boat,
shone in burnished armour and now they put on a mantle of shade.
A dark little girl, of twelve years, dark and thin, sitting aft on the
deck floor, her long, white-stockinged legs folded decorously under
her, her blue gingham skirt spread out, and her Leghorn hat upon her
knees, appealed to one of the reading ladies. "Aunt Serena, what is
'evolution'?"
Miss Serena Ashendyne laid down her book. "'Evolution,'" she said
blankly, "'what is evolution?'"
"I heard grandfather say it just now. He said, 'That man Darwin and his
evolution'--"
"Oh!" said Miss Serena. "He meant a very wicked and irreligious
Englishman who wrote a dreadful book."
"Was it named 'Evolution'?"
"No. I forget just what it is called. 'Beginning'--No! 'Origin of
Species.' That was it."
"Have we got it in the library at Gilead Balm?"
"Heavens! No!"
"Why?"
"Your grandfather wouldn't let it come into the house. No lady would
read it."
"Oh!"
Miss Serena returned to her novel. She sat very elegantly on the
camp-stool, a graceful, long-lined, drooping form in a greenish-grey
delaine picked out with tiny daisies. It was made polonaise. Miss
Serena, alone of the people at Gilead Balm, kept up with the fashions.
At the other end of the long, narrow deck a knot of country gentlemen
were telling war stories. All had fought in the war--the war that had
been over now for twenty years and more. There were an empty sleeve and
a wooden leg in the group and other marks of bullet and sabre. They
told good stories, the country gentlemen, and they indulged in mellow
laughter. Blue rings of tobacco-smoke rose and mingled and made a haze
about that end of the boat.
"How the gentlemen are enjoying themselves!" said placidly one of the
knitting ladies.
The dark little girl continued to ponder the omission from the library.
"Aunt Serena--"
"Yes, Hagar."
"Is it like 'Tom Jones'?"
"'Tom Jones'! What do you know about 'Tom Jones'?"
"Grandfather was reading it one day and laughing, and after he had done
with it I | 288.967606 | 1,391 |
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by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration:
WAGGON OF THE VIKING AGE.
One of two waggons found in the Deibjerg bog, Ringkjobing, West
Jutland, ornamented all over with bronze; and on each side
representations of two human heads with heavy moustaches, and with
the triskele and other mystic signs. Length of sides, 5 feet, 4
inches; straight pole, about 6 feet, including the bent piece;
diameter of wheels, 3 feet.
]
THE VIKING AGE
THE EARLY HISTORY, MANNERS, AND CUSTOMS OF THE ANCESTORS OF THE
ENGLISH-SPEAKING NATIONS
ILLUSTRATED FROM
_THE ANTIQUITIES DISCOVERED IN MOUNDS, CAIRNS, AND BOGS AS WELL AS FROM
THE ANCIENT SAGAS AND EDDAS_
BY
PAUL B. DU CHAILLU
AUTHOR OF “EXPLORATIONS IN EQUATORIAL AFRICA,” “LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT
SUN,” ETC.
WITH 1366 ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAP
IN TWO VOLUMES.—VOL. II
NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS.
1889.
COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY
PAUL B. DU CHAILLU.
Press of J. J. Little & Co.,
Astor Place, New York.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
MARRIAGE 1
CHAPTER II.
DIVORCE 25
CHAPTER III.
THE BIRTH AND BRINGING-UP OF CHILDREN 30
CHAPTER IV.
THE ARVEL, OR INHERITANCE FEAST 47
CHAPTER V.
FOSTER-BROTHERHOOD 61
CHAPTER VI.
WEAPONS 65
CHAPTER VII.
WAR CUSTOMS 102
CHAPTER VIII.
ROCK-TRACINGS 116
CHAPTER IX.
WAR-SHIPS 136
CHAPTER X.
THE FLEETS OF THE NORTHMEN 176
CHAPTER XI.
MODE OF NAVAL WARFARE OF THE NORTHMEN 181
CHAPTER XII.
SEA BATTLES 188
CHAPTER XIII.
TRADERS AND TRADING-SHIPS 209
CHAPTER XIV.
DEBTS AND ROBBERY 235
CHAPTER XV.
HALLS AND BUILDINGS 241
CHAPTER XVI.
FEASTS, ENTERTAINMENTS 274
CHAPTER XVII.
DRESS OF MEN 285
CHAPTER XVIII.
DRESS OF WOMEN 301
CHAPTER XIX.
THE BRACTEATES 332
CHAPTER XX.
OCCUPATIONS AND SPORTS OF MEN 344
CHAPTER XXI.
OCCUPATIONS OF WOMEN 362
CHAPTER XXII.
EXERCISES—IDRÓTTIR 369
CHAPTER XXIII.
IDRÓTTIR.—POETRY OR SCALDSHIP, MUSIC AND MENTAL EXERCISES 389
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE CONDUCT OF LIFE.—THE HÁVAMÁL 401
CHAPTER XXV.
SORROW AND MOURNING 414
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAMPIONS AND BERSERKS 423
CHAPTER XXVII.
SOME EXPEDITIONS AND DEEDS OF GREAT VIKINGS 433
CHAPTER XXVIII.
SOME EXPEDITIONS AND DEEDS OF GREAT VIKINGS
(_Continued_) 450
CHAPTER XXIX.
SOME EXPEDITIONS AND DEEDS OF GREAT VIKINGS
(_Continued_) 462
CHAPTER XXX.
SOME EXPEDITIONS AND DEEDS OF GREAT VIKINGS
(_Continued_) 479
CHAPTER XXXI.
SOME EXPEDITIONS AND DEEDS OF GREAT VIKINGS
(_Continued_) 486
CHAPTER XXXII.
SOME EXPEDITIONS AND DEEDS OF GREAT VIKINGS
(_Continued_) 499
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OF ICELAND, GREENLAND, AND AMERICA 514
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE ORKNEYS AND HEBRIDES 531
───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
APPENDIX I.—FRANKISH CHRONICLES 536 | 289.038983 | 1,392 |
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Archive.
The Tent Dwellers
[Illustration: "He was swearing steadily and I think still blaming me
for most of his troubles."--_Page_ 83.]
THE TENT
DWELLERS
BY
ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE
_Author of "The Van Dwellers," "The Lucky Piece," etc_.
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HY. WATSON_
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE OUTING PUBLISHING CO.
MCMVIII
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY
Chapter One
_Come, shape your plans where the fire is bright,_
_And the shimmering glasses are--_
_When the woods are white in the winter's night,_
_Under the northern star._
Chapter One
It was during the holiday week that Eddie proposed the matter. That is
Eddie's way. No date, for him, is too far ahead to begin to plan
anything that has vari- flies in it, and tents, and the prospect
of the campfire smell. The very mention of these things will make his
hair bristle up (rather straight, still hair it is and silvered over
with premature wisdom) and put a new glare into his spectacles (rather
wide, round spectacles they are) until he looks even more like an
anarchist than usual--more indeed than in the old Heidelberg days, when,
as a matter of truth, he is a gentle soul; sometimes, when he has
transgressed, or thinks he has, almost humble.
As I was saying, it was during the holidays--about the end of the week,
as I remember it--and I was writing some letters at the club in the
little raised corner that looks out on the park, when I happened to
glance down toward the fireplace, and saw Eddie sitting as nearly on his
coat collar as possible, in one of the wide chairs, and as nearly in the
open hickory fire as he could get, pawing over a book of Silver
Doctors, Brown Hackles and the like, and dreaming a long, long dream.
Now, I confess there is something about a book of trout flies, even at
the year's end, when all the brooks are flint and gorged with white,
when all the north country hides under seamless raiment that stretches
even to the Pole itself--even at such a time, I say, there is something
about those bits of gimp, and gut, and feathers, and steel, that prick
up the red blood of any man--or of any woman, for that matter--who has
ever flung one of those gaudy things into a swirl of dark water, and
felt the swift, savage tug on the line and heard the music of the
singing reel.
I forgot that I was writing letters and went over there.
"Tell me about it, Eddie," I said. "Where are you going, this time?"
Then he unfolded to me a marvelous plan. It was a place in Nova
Scotia--he had been there once before, only, this time he was going a
different route, farther into the wilderness, the deep unknown,
somewhere even the guides had never been. Perhaps stray logmen had been
there, or the Indians; sportsmen never. There had been no complete
surveys, even by the government. Certain rivers were known by their
outlets, certain lakes by name. It was likely that they formed the usual
network and that the circuit could be made by water, with occasional
carries. Unquestionably the waters swarmed with trout. A certain
imaginative Indian, supposed to have penetrated the unknown, had
declared that at one place were trout the size of one's leg.
Eddie became excited as he talked and his hair bristled. He set down a
list of the waters so far as known, the names of certain guides, a
number of articles of provision and an array of camp paraphernalia.
Finally he made maps and other drawings and began to add figures. It was
dusk when we got back. The lights were winking along the park over the
way, and somewhere through the night, across a waste of cold, lay the
land we had visited, still waiting to be explored. We wandered out into
the dining room and settled the matter across a table. When we rose from
it, I was pledged--pledged for June; and this was still December, the
tail of the old year.
Chapter Two
_And let us buy for the days of spring,_
_While yet the north winds blow!_
_For half the joy of the trip, my boy,_
_Is getting your traps to go._
Chapter Two
Immediately we, that is to say, Eddie, began to buy things. It is
Eddie's way to read text-books and to consult catalogues with a view of
making a variety of purchases. He has had a great deal of experience in
the matter of camp life, but being a modest man he has a fund of respect
for the experience of others. Any one who has had enough ability, or
time, to write a book on the subject, and enough perseverance, or money,
to get it published, can preach the gospel of the woods to Eddie in the
matter of camp appointments; and even the manufacturers' catalogues are
considered sound reading. As a result, he has accumulated an amazing
collection of articles, adapted to every time and season, to every
change of wind and temperature, to every spot where the tent gleams
white in the campfire's blaze, from Greenland's icy mountains to India's
coral strand. Far be it from me to deride or deprecate this tendency,
even though it were a ruling passion. There are days, and nights, too,
recalled now with only a heart full of gratitude because of Eddie's
almost inexhaustible storehouse of comforts for soul and flesh--the
direct result of those text-books and those catalogues, and of the wild,
sweet joy he always found in making lists and laying in supplies. Not
having a turn that way, myself, he had but small respect for my ideas of
woodcraft and laid down the law of the forest to me with a firm hand.
When I hinted that I should need a new lancewood rod, he promptly
annulled the thought. When I suggested that I might aspire as far as a
rather good split bamboo, of a light but serviceable kind, he dispelled
the ambition forthwith.
"You want a noibwood," he said. "I have just ordered one, and I will
take you to the same place to get it."
[Illustration: "It was a field day for Eddie and he bought more."]
I had never heard of this particular variety of timber, and it seemed
that Eddie had never heard of it, either, except in a catalogue and from
the lips of a dealer who had imported a considerable amount of the
material. Yet I went along, meekly enough, and ordered under his
direction. I also selected an assortment of flies--the prettiest he
would let me buy. A few others which I had set my heart on I had the
dealer slip in when Eddie wasn't looking. I was about to buy a curious
thing which a trout could not come near without fatal results, when the
wide glare of his spectacles rested on me and my courage failed. Then he
selected for me a long landing net, for use in the canoe, and another
with an elastic loop to go about the neck, for wading; leaders and
leader-boxes and the other elementary necessaries of angling in the
northern woods. Of course such things were as A, B, C to Eddie. He had
them in infinite variety, but it was a field day and he bought more. We
were out of the place at last, and I was heaving a sigh of relief that
this part of it was over and I need give the matter no further thought,
when Eddie remarked:
"Well, we've made a pretty good start. We can come down here a lot of
times between now and June."
"But what for?" I asked.
"Oh, for things. You haven't a sleeping bag yet, and we'll be thinking
of other stuff right along. We can stay over a day in Boston, too, and
get some things there. I always do that. You want a good many things.
You can't get them in the woods, you know."
Eddie was right about having plenty of time, for this was January. He
was wrong, however, about being unable to get things in the woods. I
did, often. I got Eddie's.
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MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING
ADVENTURE
MOTOR
FICTION
NO. 9
APRIL 24, 1909
FIVE
CENTS
MOTOR MATT'S
AIR SHIP
_OR_ THE RIVAL
INVENTORS
[Illustration: _Motor Matt, as he drove
the air ship steadily
against the wind, kept
close watch of the
captured aeronauts._]
_Street & Smith
Publishers
New York_
MOTOR STORIES
THRILLING ADVENTURE MOTOR FICTION
_Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered according to
Act of Congress in the year 1909, in the Office of the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, D. C., by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Avenue,
New York, N. Y._
No. 9. NEW YORK, April 24, 1909. Price Five Cents.
MOTOR MATT'S AIR-SHIP;
OR,
The Rival Inventors.
By the author of "MOTOR MATT."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. CAPTURING AN AIR-SHIP.
CHAPTER II. A QUEER "FIND."
CHAPTER III. THE BALLOON HOUSE.
CHAPTER IV. THE KETTLE CONTINUES TO BOIL.
CHAPTER V. 2109 HOYNE STREET.
CHAPTER VI. CARL INVESTIGATES.
CHAPTER VII. JERROLD, BRADY'S RIVAL.
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Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email
[email protected]
MARSK STIG
A BALLAD
BY
GEORGE BORROW
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION
1913
MARSK STIG
A BALLAD
PART I.
Marsk Stig he out of the country rode
To win him fame with his good bright sword;
At home meantide the King will bide
In hope to lure his heart’s ador’d.
The King sends word to the Marshal Stig
That he to the fields of war should fare;
Himself will deign at home to remain
And take the charge of his Lady fair.
In came the Marshal’s serving man,
And a kirtle of green that man he wore:
“Of our good liege the little foot-page
Is standing out the gate before.”
Up stood the young Sir Marshal Stig,
By the side of his bed his clothes put on;
And to speak the boy, the King’s envoy,
Down to the gate is the Marshal gone.
“Now hear thou, Marsk Stig Andersen,
’Tis truth and sooth what I say to thee;
Thou must away to the King’s palay,
Then mount thy horse and follow with me.
“Oh, I know nought of my Lord King’s thought
That I to thee can now declare,
Except that thou to the war must go
And there thy sovereign’s banner bear.”
Then in at the door Sir Marsk Stig trode,
And a wrathful man I trow was he:
“By the Saints I swear, my Lady dear,
Fulfill’d my dreary dream will be.
“For of late I dream’d that my noble horse
To chase the wild mare ran away;
And that must mean that I shall be slain,
And that my steed will tramp on my life-less clay.”
“Now hold thy tongue, my noble Lord,
And do not talk thus foolishly,
For Christ can protect thy life, reflect,
The blessed Christ who dwells on high.”
It was the young and bold Marsk Stig
Came riding into the Castle yard,
Abroad did stand the King of the land
So fair array’d in sable and mard.
“Now lend an ear, young Marshal Stig,
I have for thee a fair emprise,
Ride thou this year to the war, and bear
My flag amongst my enemies.”
“And if I shall fare to the war this year,
And risk my life among thy foes,
Do thou take care of my Lady dear,
Of Ingeborg that beauteous rose.”
Then answer’d Erik, the youthful King,
With a laugh in his sleeve thus answer’d he:
“No more I swear has thy lady to fear
Than if my sister dear were she.
“Full well I’ll watch Dame Ingeborg,
And guard and cherish her night and day;
As little I swear has thy Lady to fear
As if thou, dear Marshal, at home didst stay.”
It was then the bold Sir Marshal Stig,
From out of the country he did depart.
In her castle sate his lonely mate,
Fair Ingeborg, with grief at heart.
“Now saddle my steed,” cried Eric the King,
“Now saddle my steed,” King Eric cried,
“To visit the Dame of beauteous fame
Your King will into the country ride.”
“Hail, hail to thee, Dame Ingeborg,
If thou wilt not be coy and cold,
A shirt, I trow, for me thou’lt sew,
And array that shirt so fair with gold.”
“Sew’d I for thee a shirt, Sir King,
And worked that shirt, Sir King, with gold,
Should Marsk Stig hear of that he’d ne’er
With favour again his wife behold.”
“Now list, now list, Dame Ingeborg,
Thou art, I swear, a beauteous star,
Live thou with me in love and glee,
Whilst Marshal Stig is engag’d in war.”
Then up and spake Dame Ingeborg,
For nought was she but a virtuous wife:
“Rather, I say, than Stig betray,
Sir King, I’d gladly lose my life.”
“Give ear, thou proud Dame Ingeborg,
If thou my leman and love will be,
Each finger fair of thy hand shall bear
A ring of gold so red of blee.”
“Marsk Stig has given gold rings to me | 290.519825 | 1,395 |
2023-11-16 18:20:37.2915950 | 1,170 | 394 |
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Walt Farrell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE BANDBOX
BY LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
The Bandbox
Cynthia-of-the-Minute
No Man's Land
The Fortune Hunter
The Pool of Flame
The Bronze Bell
The Black Bag
The Brass Bowl
The Private War
Terence O'Rourke
[Illustration: "Now, sir!" she exclaimed, turning
FRONTISPIECE. _See Page 83_]
The Bandbox
BY LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
Author of "The Brass Bowl," "The Bronze Bell,"
"Cynthia-of-the-Minute," etc.
With Four Illustrations
By ARTHUR I. KELLER
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
_Copyright, 1911, 1912,_
By Louis Joseph Vance.
_All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian_
Published, April, 1912
Reprinted, April, 1912 (three times)
TO
LEWIS BUDDY III
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I INTRODUCING MR. IFF 1
II THE BANDBOX 14
III TWINS 26
IV QUEENSTOWN 43
V ISMAY? 65
VI IFF? 87
VII STOLE AWAY! 109
VIII THE WRONG BOX 128
IX A LIKELY STORY 158
X DEAD O' NIGHT 177
XI THE COLD GREY DAWN 194
XII WON'T YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOUR? 216
XIII WRECK ISLAND 233
XIV THE STRONG-BOX 254
XV THE ENEMY'S HAND 275
XVI NINETY MINUTES 295
XVII HOLOCAUST 312
THE BANDBOX
I
INTRODUCING MR. IFF
At half-past two of a sunny, sultry afternoon late in the month of
August, Mr. Benjamin Staff sat at table in the dining-room of the
Authors' Club, moodily munching a morsel of cheese and a segment of
cast-iron biscuit and wondering what he must do to be saved from the
death-in-life of sheer ennui.
A long, lank gentleman, surprisingly thin, of a slightly saturnine cast:
he was not only unhappy, he looked it. He was alone and he was lonely;
he was an American and a man of sentiment (though he didn't look _that_)
and he wanted to go home; to sum up, he found himself in love and in
London at one and the same time, and felt precisely as ill at ease in
the one as in the other of these, to him, exotic circumstances.
Inconceivable as it may seem that any rational man should yearn for New
York in August, that and nothing less was what Staff wanted with all his
heart. He wanted to go home and swelter and be swindled by taxicab
drivers and snubbed by imported head-waiters; he wanted to patronise the
subway at peril of asphyxiation and to walk down Fifth Avenue at that
witching hour when electric globes begin to dot the dusk of
evening--pale moons of a world of steel and stone; he wanted to ride in
elevators instead of lifts, in trolley-cars instead of trams; he wanted
to go to a ball-game at the Polo Grounds, to dine dressed as he pleased,
to insult his intelligence with a roof-garden show if he felt so
disposed, and to see for himself just how much of Town had been torn
down in the two months of his exile and what they were going to put up
in its place. He wanted, in short, his own people; more specifically he
wanted just one of them, meaning to marry her if she'd have him.
Now to be homesick and lovesick all at once is a tremendously disturbing
state of affairs. So influenced, the strongest men are prone to folly.
Staff, for instance, had excellent reason to doubt the advisability of
leaving London just then, with an unfinished play on his hands; but he
was really no more than a mere, normal human being, and he did want very
badly to go home. If it was a sharp struggle, it was a short one that
prefaced his decision.
Of a sudden he rose, called for his bill and paid it, called for his hat
and stick, got them, and resolutely--yet with a furtive air, as one who
would throw a dogging conscience off the scent--fled the premises of his
club, shaping a course through Whitehall and Charing Cross to Cockspur
Street, where, with the unerring instinct of a homing pigeon, he dodged
hastily into the booking-office of a steamship company.
Now Mystery is where one finds it, and Romantic Adventure is as a rule
to be come upon infesting the same identical premises. Mr. Staff was not
seeking mysteries and the last role | 290.611005 | 1,396 |
2023-11-16 18:20:37.3238910 | 3,243 | 116 |
Produced by Marius Masi, Don Kretz and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's notes:
(1) Numbers following letters (without space) like C2 were originally
printed in subscript. Letter subscripts are preceded by an
underscore, like C_n.
(2) Characters following a carat (^) were printed in superscript.
(3) Side-notes were relocated to function as titles of their respective
paragraphs.
(4) Macrons and breves above letters and dots below letters were not
inserted.
(5) [root] stands for the root symbol; [:] for division sign; [+-] for
plus-minus sign; [alpha], [beta], etc. for greek letters.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE
AND GENERAL INFORMATION
ELEVENTH EDITION
VOLUME II, SLICE V
Arculf to Armour, Philip
ARTICLES IN THIS SLICE:
ARCULF ARIMASPI
ARDASHIR ARIMINUM
ARDEA ARIOBARZANES
ARDEBIL ARION
ARDECHE ARIOSTO, LODOVICO
ARDEE ARISTAENETUS
ARDEN, FOREST OF ARISTAEUS
ARDENNES (district) ARISTAGORAS
ARDENNES (department of France) ARISTANDER
ARDGLASS ARISTARCHUS (of Samos)
ARDITI, LUIGI ARISTARCHUS (of Samothrace)
ARDMORE ARISTEAS (Greek mythical personage)
ARDRES ARISTEAS (author of "Letter")
ARDROSSAN ARISTIDES (Athenian statesman)
AREA ARISTIDES (of Miletus)
ARECIBO ARISTIDES (of Thebes)
AREMBERG ARISTIDES, AELIUS
ARENA ARISTIDES, QUINTILIANUS
ARENDAL ARISTIDES, APOLOGY OF
ARENIG GROUP ARISTIPPUS
AREOI ARISTO (of Chios)
AREOPAGUS ARISTO (of Pella)
AREQUIPA (department of Peru) ARISTOBULUS (of Cassandreia)
AREQUIPA (city of Peru) ARISTOBULUS (of Paneas)
ARES ARISTOCRACY
ARETAEUS ARISTODEMUS
ARETAS ARISTOLOCHIA
ARETE ARISTOMENES
ARETHAS ARISTONICUS
ARETHUSA ARISTOPHANES (Greek dramatist)
ARETINO, PIETRO ARISTOPHANES (of Byzantium)
AREZZO ARISTOTLE
ARGALI ARISTOXENUS
ARGAO ARISUGAWA
ARGAUM ARITHMETIC
ARGEI ARIUS
ARGELANDER, FRIEDRICH AUGUST ARIZONA
ARGENS, JEAN BAPTISTE DE BOYER ARJUNA
ARGENSOLA, LUPERCIO LEONARDO DE ARK
ARGENSON ARKANSAS (river of the U.S.)
ARGENTAN ARKANSAS (state)
ARGENTEUIL ARKANSAS CITY
ARGENTINA ARKLOW
ARGENTINE ARKWRIGHT, SIR RICHARD
ARGENTITE ARLES (town of France)
ARGENTON ARLES (kingdom)
ARGHANDAB ARLINGTON, HENRY BENNET
ARGHOUL ARLINGTON
ARGOL ARLON
ARGON ARM
ARGONAUTS ARMADA, THE
ARGONNE ARMADILLO
ARGOS ARMAGEDDON
ARGOSTOLI ARMAGH (county of Ireland)
ARGOSY ARMAGH (city)
ARGUIN ARMAGNAC
ARGUMENT ARMATOLES
ARGUS ARMATURE
ARGYLL, EARLS AND DUKES OF ARMAVIR
ARGYLLSHIRE ARMENIA
ARGYRODITE ARMENIAN CHURCH
ARGYROKASTRO ARMENIAN LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE
ARGYROPULUS, JOHN ARMENTIERES
ARIA ARMET
ARIADNE ARMFELT, GUSTAF MAURITZ
ARIANO DI PUGLIA ARMIDALE
ARIAS MONTANO, BENITO ARMILLA
ARICA ARMINIUS
ARICIA ARMINIUS, JACOBUS
ARICINI ARMISTICE
ARIEGE ARMOIRE
ARIES ARMORICA
ARIKARA ARMOUR, PHILIP DANFORTH
ARCULF, a Gallican bishop and pilgrim-traveller, who visited the Levant
about 680, and was the earliest Christian traveller and observer of any
importance in the Nearer East after the rise of Islam. On his return he
was driven by contrary winds to Britain, and so came to Iona, where he
related his experiences to his host, the abbot Adamnan (679-704). This
narrative, as written out by Adamnan, was presented to Aldfrith the
Wise, last of the great Northumbrian kings, at York about 701, and came
to the knowledge of Bede, who inserted a brief summary of the same in
his _Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation_, and also drew up a
separate and longer digest which obtained great popularity throughout
the middle ages as a standard guide-book (the so-called _Libellus de
locis sanctis_) to the Holy Places of Syria. Arculf is the first to
mention the column at Jerusalem, which claimed to mark the exact centre
of the Inhabited Earth, and later became one of the favourite Palestine
wonders. Besides a valuable account of the principal sacred sites of
Judaea, Samaria and Galilee as they existed in the 7th century, he also
gives important information as to Alexandria and Constantinople, briefly
describes Damascus and Tyre, the Nile and the Lipari volcanoes, and
refers to the caliph Moawiya I. (A.D. 661-680), whom he pictures as
befriending Christians and rescuing the "sudarium" of Christ from the
Jews. Arculf's record is especially useful from its plans, drawn from
personal observation by the traveller himself, of the churches of the
Holy Sepulchre and of Mount Sion in Jerusalem, of the Ascension on
Olivet and of Jacob's well at Sichem. It is also a useful witness to the
prosperity and trade of Alexandria after the Moslem conquest: it tells
us how the Pharos was still lit up every night; and it gives us (from
Constantinople) the first form of the story of St George which ever
seems to have attracted notice in Britain.
Thirteen MSS, of the original Arculf-Adamnan narrative exist, and
fully 100 of Bede's abridgment: of the former, the most important,
containing all the plans, are (1) Bern, Canton Library, 582, of 9th
cent.; (2) Paris, National Library, Lat. 13,048, of 9th cent.; a
third MS., London, B. Mus., Cotlon, Tib. D. V., of 8th-9th cents.,
though damaged by fire and lacking the illustrations, is of value for
the text, being the oldest of all. Among editions the first is of
1619, by Gretser; the best, that of 1877, by Tobler, in _Itinera et
Descriptiones Terrae Sanctae_; we may also mention that of 1870, by
Delpit, in his _Essai sur les anciens pelerinages a Jerusalem_; see
also Delpit's remarks upon Arculf in the same work, pp. 260-304;
Beazley, _Dawn of Modern Geography_, i. 131-40 (1897).
ARDASHIR, the modern form of the Persian royal name ARTAXERXES (q.v.),
"he whose empire is excellent." After the three Achaemenian kings of
this name, it occurs in Armenia, in the shortened form Artaxias
(Armenian, Artashes or Artaxes), and among the dynasts of Persia who
maintained their independence during the Parthian period (see PERSIS).
One of these, (1) Artaxerxes or ARDASHIR I. (in his Greek inscriptions
he calls himself Artaxares, and the same form occurs in Agathias II. 25,
iv. 24), became the founder of the New-Persian or Sassanian empire. Of
his reign we have only very scanty information, as the Greek and Roman
authors mention only his victory over the Parthians and his wars with
Rome. A trustworthy tradition about the origin of his power, from
Persian sources, has been preserved by the Arabic historian Tabari (Th.
Noldeke, _Geschichte der Perser und Araber zur Zeit der Sasaniden, aus
der arabischen Chronik des Tabari_, 1879). He was the second son of
Papak (Babek), the offspring of Sassan (Sasan), after whom the dynasty
is named. Papak had made himself king of the district of Istakhr (in the
neighbourhood of Persepolis, which had fallen to ruins). After the death
of Papak and his oldest son Shapur (Shahpuhr, Sapores), Ardashir made
himself king (probably A.D. 212), put his other brothers to death and
began war against the neighbouring dynasts of Persis. When he had
conquered a great part of Persis and Carmania, the Parthian king
Artabanus IV. interfered. But he was defeated in three battles and at
last killed (A.D. 236). Ardashir now considered himself sovereign of the
whole empire of the Parthians and called himself "King of Kings of the
Iranians." But his aspirations went farther. In Persis the traditions of
the Achaemenian empire had always been alive, as the name of Ardashir
himself shows, and with them the national religion of Zoroaster.
Ardashir, who was a zealous worshipper of Ahuramazda and in intimate
connexion with the magian priests, established the orthodox Zoroastrian
creed as the official religion of his new kingdom, persecuted the
infidels, and tried to restore the old Persian empire, which under the
Achaemenids had extended over the whole of Asia from the Aegean Sea to
the Indus. At the same time he put down the local dynasts and tried to
create a strong concentrated power. His empire is thus quite different
in character from the Parthian kingdom of the Arsacids, which had no
national and religious basis but leant towards Hellenism, and whose
organization had always been very loose. Ardashir extirpated the whole
race of the Arsacids, with the exception of those princes who had found
refuge in Armenia, and in many wars, in which, however, as the Persian
tradition shows, he occasionally suffered heavy defeats, he succeeded in
subjugating the greater part of Iran, Susiana and Babylonia. The
Parthian capital Ctesiphon (q.v.) remained the principal residence of
the Sassanian kingdom, by the side of the national metropolis Istakhr,
which was too far out of the way to become the centre of administration.
Opposite to Ctesiphon, on the right bank of the Tigris, Ardashir
restored Seleucia under the name of Weh-Ardashir. The attempt to conquer
Mesopotamia, Armenia and Cappadocia led to a war with Rome, in which he
was repelled by Alexander Severus (A.D. 233). Before his death (A.D.
241) Ardashir associated with himself on the throne his son Shapur, who
successfully continued his work.
Under the tombs of Darius I. at Persepolis, on the surface of the rock,
Ardashir has sculptured his image and that of the god Ahuramazda (Ormuzd
or Ormazd). Both are on horseback; the god is giving the diadem to the
king. Under the horse of the king lies a defeated enemy, the Parthian
king Artaban; under the horse of Ormuzd, the devil Ahriman, with two
snakes rising from his head. In the bilingual inscription (Greek and
Pahlavi), Ardashir I. calls himself "the Mazdayasnian [i.e. "worshipper
of Ahuramazda"] god Artaxares, king of the kings of the Arianes
(Iranians), of godly origin, son of the god Papak the king." (See Sir R.
Ker Porter, _Travels_ (1821-1822), i. 548 foll.; Flandin et Coste,
_Voyage en Perse_, iv. 182; F. Stolze and J.C. Andreas, _Persepolis_,
pl. 116; Marcel Diculafoy, _L'Art antique de la Perse_, 1884-1889, v.
pl. 14). A similar inscription and sculpture is on a rock near Gur
(Firuzabad) in Persia. On his coins he has the same titles (in Pahlavi).
We see that he, like his father and his successors, were worshipped as
gods, probably as incarnations of a secondary deity of the Persian
creed.
Like the history of the founder of the Achaemenian empire, that of
Ardashir has from the beginning been overgrown with legends; like Cyrus
he is the son of a shepherd, his future greatness is predicted by dreams
and visions, and by the calculations of astronomers he becomes a servant
at the court of King Art | 290.643301 | 1,397 |
2023-11-16 18:20:37.3579310 | 375 | 67 |
Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
THE LINCOLN YEAR BOOK
[Illustration: A. Lincoln]
THE LINCOLN YEAR BOOK
AXIOMS AND APHORISMS FROM THE GREAT EMANCIPATOR
COMPILED BY _WALLACE RICE_
COMPILER OF "THE FRANKLIN YEAR BOOK"
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1907
_Copyright, 1907,
A. C. McClurg & Co._
_Published October 12, 1907_
_The Lakeside Press_
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY
CHICAGO
_TO_
_Francis Fisher Browne_
_A FOLLOWER OF LINCOLN
IN WAR AND PEACE
PRINCIPLE AND PRECEPT_
_Let us have faith that right makes might_
_JANUARY_
_The dogmas of the past are inadequate to the stormy present._
_FIRST_
Always do the very best you can.
_SECOND_
If our sense of duty forbids, then let us stand by our sense of duty.
_THIRD_
It's no use to be always looking up these hard spots.
_FOURTH_
All I am in the world, I owe to the opinion of me which the people
express when they call me "Honest Old Abe."
_FIFTH_
The way for a young man to rise is to improve himself in every way he
can, never suspecting that anybody is hindering him.
_S | 290.677341 | 1,398 |
2023-11-16 18:20:37.4172260 | 981 | 401 |
Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger
FIRST ACROSS THE CONTINENT
The Story of The Exploring Expedition of Lewis and Clark in 1804-5-6
By Noah Brooks
Chapter I -- A Great Transaction in Land
The people of the young Republic of the United States were greatly
astonished, in the summer of 1803, to learn that Napoleon Bonaparte,
then First Consul of France, had sold to us the vast tract of land known
as the country of Louisiana. The details of this purchase were arranged
in Paris (on the part of the United States) by Robert R. Livingston and
James Monroe. The French government was represented by Barbe-Marbois,
Minister of the Public Treasury.
The price to be paid for this vast domain was fifteen million dollars.
The area of the country ceded was reckoned to be more than one million
square miles, greater than the total area of the United States, as the
Republic then existed. Roughly described, the territory comprised all
that part of the continent west of the Mississippi River, bounded on the
north by the British possessions and on the west and south by dominions
of Spain. This included the region in which now lie the States of
Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas, parts of Colorado, Minnesota, the
States of Iowa, Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Wyoming, a part
of Idaho, all of Montana and Territory of Oklahoma. At that time, the
entire population of the region, exclusive of the Indian tribes that
roamed over its trackless spaces, was barely ninety thousand persons,
of whom forty thousand were <DW64> slaves. The civilized inhabitants
were principally French, or descendants of French, with a few Spanish,
Germans, English, and Americans.
The purchase of this tremendous slice of territory could not be complete
without an approval of the bargain by the United States Senate. Great
opposition to this was immediately excited by people in various parts
of the Union, especially in New England, where there was a very bitter
feeling against the prime mover in this business,--Thomas Jefferson,
then President of the United States. The scheme was ridiculed by persons
who insisted that the region was not only wild and unexplored, but
uninhabitable and worthless. They derided "The Jefferson Purchase," as
they called it, as a useless piece of extravagance and folly; and, in
addition to its being a foolish bargain, it was urged that President
Jefferson had no right, under the constitution of the United States, to
add any territory to the area of the Republic.
Nevertheless, a majority of the people were in favor of the purchase,
and the bargain was duly approved by the United States Senate; that
body, July 31, 1803, just three months after the execution of the treaty
of cession, formally ratified the important agreement between the two
governments. The dominion of the United States was now extended across
the entire continent of North America, reaching from the Atlantic to the
Pacific. The Territory of Oregon was already ours.
This momentous transfer took place one hundred years ago, when almost
nothing was known of the region so summarily handed from the government
of France to the government of the American Republic. Few white men had
ever traversed those trackless plains, or scaled the frowning ranges of
mountains that barred the way across the continent. There were living in
the fastnesses of the mysterious interior of the Louisiana Purchase many
tribes of Indians who had never looked in the face of the white man.
Nor was the Pacific shore of the country any better known to civilized
man than was the region lying between that coast and the Big Muddy, or
Missouri River. Spanish voyagers, in 1602, had sailed as far north as
the harbors of San Diego and Monterey, in what is now California;
and other explorers, of the same nationality, in 1775, extended their
discoveries as far north as the fifty-eighth degree of latitude. Famous
Captain Cook, the great navigator of the Pacific seas, in 1778, reached
and entered Nootka Sound, and, leaving numerous harbors and bays
unexplored, he pressed on and visited the shores of Alaska, then called
Unalaska, and traced the coast as far north as Icy Cape. Cold weather
drove him westward across the Pacific, and he spent the next winter at
Owyhee, where, in February of the following year, he was killed by the
natives.
All these explorers were looking for chances for fur | 290.736636 | 1,399 |
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