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Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
This file was produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.
THE GIRL AT CENTRAL
BY GERALDINE BONNER
Author of "The Emigrant Trail," "The Book of Evelyn," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN
NEW YORK AND LONDON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1915
Copyright, 1915, by
_D. Appleton and Company_
_Copyright, 1914, 1915, by The Curtis Publishing Company_
_Printed in the United States of America_
[Illustration: _'Mark my words, there's going to be trouble at
Mapleshade'"_]
CONTENTS
- LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- VIII
- IX
- X
- XI
- XII
- XIII
- XIV
- XV
- XVI
- XVII
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
'Mark my words, there's going to be trouble at Mapleshade'
Sylvia was in her riding dress, looking a picture
A day later he was arrested at Firehill and taken to Bloomington jail
I came down to the parlor where Babbitts was waiting
I
Poor Sylvia Hesketh! Even now, after this long time, I can't think of it
without a shudder, without a comeback of the horror of those days after
the murder. You remember it--the Hesketh mystery? And mystery it surely
was, baffling, as it did, the police and the populace of the whole
state. For who could guess why a girl like that, rich, beautiful,
without a care or an enemy, should be done to death as she was. Think of
it--at five o'clock sitting with her mother taking tea in the library at
Mapleshade and that same night found dead--murdered--by the side of a
lonesome country road, a hundred and eighteen miles away.
It's the story of this that I'm going to tell here, and as you'll get a
good deal of me before I'm through, I'd better, right now at the start,
introduce myself.
I'm Molly Morganthau, day operator in the telephone exchange at
Longwood, New Jersey, twenty-three years old, dark, slim, and as for my
looks--well, put them down as "medium" and let it go at that. My name's
Morganthau because my father was a Polish Jew--a piece worker on
pants--but my two front names, Mary McKenna, are after my mother, who
was from County Galway, Ireland. I was raised in an East Side tenement,
but I went steady to the Grammar school and through the High and I'm not
throwing bouquets at myself when I say I made a good record. That's how
I come to be nervy enough to write this story--but you'll see for
yourself. Only just keep in mind that I'm more at home in front of a
switchboard than at a desk.
I've supported myself since I was sixteen, my father dying then, and my
mother--God rest her blessed memory!--two years later. First I was in a
department store and then in the Telephone Company. I haven't a relation
in the country and if I had I wouldn't have asked a nickel off them. I'm
that kind, independent and--but that's enough about me.
Now for you to rightly get what I'm going to tell I'll have to begin
with a description of Longwood village and the country round about. I've
made a sort of diagram--it isn't drawn to scale but it gives the general
effect, all right--and with that and what I'll describe you can get an
idea of the lay of the land, which you have to have to understand
things.
Longwood's in New Jersey, a real picturesque village of a thousand
inhabitants. It's a little over an hour from New York by the main line
and here and there round it are country places, mostly fine ones owned
by rich people. There are some farms too, and along the railway and the
turnpike are other villages. My exchange is the central office for a
good radius of country, taking in Azalea, twenty-five miles above us on
the main line, and running its wires out in a big circle to the
scattered houses and the crossroad settlements. It's on Main Street,
opposite the station, and from my chair at the switchboard I can see the
platform and the trains as they come down from Cherry Junction or up
from New York. It's sixty miles from Longwood to the Junction where you
get the branch line that goes off to the North, stopping at other
stations, mostly for the farm people, and where, when you get to
Hazelmere, you can connect with an express for Philadelphia. Also you
can keep right on from the Junction and get to Philadelphia that way,
which is easier, having no changes and better trains.
When I was first transferred from New York--it's over two years now--I
thought I'd die of the lonesomeness of it. At night, looking out of my
window--I lived over Galway's Elite Millinery Parlors on Lincoln
Street--across those miles and miles of country with a few lights dotted
here and there, I felt like I was cast on a desert island. After a while
I got used to it and that first spring when the woods began to get a
faint greenish look and I'd wake up and hear birds twittering in the
elms along the street--hold on! I'm getting sidetracked. It's going to
be hard at first to keep myself out, but just be patient, I'll do it
better as I go along.
The county turnpike goes through Longwood, and then sweeps away over the
open country between the estates and the farms and now and then a
village--Huntley, Latourette, Corona--strung out along it like beads on
a string. A hundred and fifty miles off it reaches Bloomington, a big
town with hotels and factories and a jail. About twenty miles before it
gets to Bloomington it crosses the branch line near Cresset's Farm.
There's a little sort of station there--just an open shed--called
Cresset's Crossing, built for the Cresset Farm people, who own a good
deal of land in that vicinity. Not far from Cresset's Crossing, about a
half mile apart, the Riven Rock Road from the Junction and the Firehill
Road from Jack Reddy's estate run into the turnpike.
This is the place, I guess, where I'd better tell about Jack Reddy, who
was such an important figure in the Hesketh mystery and who--I get red
now when I write it--was such an important figure to me.
A good ways back--about the time of the Revolution--the Reddy family
owned most of the country round here. Bit by bit they sold it off till
in old Mr. Reddy's time--Jack's father--all they had left was the
Firehill property and Hochalaga Lake, a big body of water, back in the
hills beyond Huntley. Firehill is an old-fashioned, stone house, built
by Mr. Reddy's grandfather. It got its name from a grove of maples on
the top of a mound that in the autumn used to turn red and orange and
look like the hillock was in a blaze. The name, they say, came from the
Indian days and so did Hochalaga, though what that stands for I don't
know. The Reddys had had lots of offers for the lake but never would
sell it. They had a sort of little shack there and before Jack's time,
when there were no automobiles, used to make horseback excursions to
Hochalaga and stay for a few days. After the old people died and Jack
came into the property everybody thought he'd sell the lake--several
parties were after it for a summer resort--but he refused them all, had
the shack built over into an up-to-date bungalow, and through the summer
would have guests down from town, spending week-ends out there.
Now I'm telling everything truthful, for that's what I set out to do,
and if you think I'm a fool you're welcome to and no back talk from
me--but I was crazy about Jack Reddy. Not that he ever gave me cause;
he's not that kind and neither am I. And let me say right here that
there's not a soul ever knew it, he least of all. I guess no one would
have been more surprised than the owner of Firehill if he'd known that
the Longwood telephone girl most had heart failure every time he passed
the window of the Exchange.
I will say, to excuse myself, that there's few girls who wouldn't have
put their hats straight and walked their prettiest when they saw him
coming. Gee--he was a good looker! Like those advertisements for collars
and shirts you see in the back of the magazines--you know the ones. But
it wasn't that that got me. It was his ways, always polite, never fresh.
If he'd meet me in the street he'd raise his hat as if I was the Queen
of Sheba. And there wasn't any hanging round my switchboard and asking
me to make dates for dinner in town. He was always jolly, but--a girl in
a telephone exchange gets to know a lot--he was always a gentleman.
He lived at Firehill--forty miles from Longwood--with two old servants,
David Gilsey and his wife, who'd been with his mother and just doted on
him. But everybody liked him. There wasn't but one criticism I ever
heard passed on him and that was that he had a violent temper. Casey,
his chauffeur, told a story in the village of how one day, when they
were passing a farm, they saw an Italian laborer <DW8> a horse with a
pitchfork. Before he knew, Mr. Reddy was out of the car and over the
fence and mashing the life out of that <DW55>. It took Casey and the
farmer to pull him off and they thought the <DW55>'d be killed before they
could.
There was talk in Longwood that he hadn't much money--much, the way the
Reddys had always had it--and was going to study law for a living. But
he must have had some, for he kept up the house, and had two motors, one
just a common roadster and the other a long gray racing car that he'd
let out on the turnpike till he was twice arrested and once ran over a
dog.
My, how well I got to know that car! When I first came I only saw it at
long intervals. Then--just as if luck was on my side--I began to see it
oftener and oftener, slowing down as it came along Main Street, swinging
round the corner, jouncing across the tracks, and dropping out of sight
behind the houses at the head of Maple Lane.
"What's bringing Jack Reddy in this long way so often?" people would say
at first.
Then, after a while, when they'd see the gray car, they'd look sly at
each other and wink.
There's one good thing about having a crush on a party that's never
thought any more about you than if you were the peg he hangs his hat
on--it doesn't hurt so bad when he falls in love with his own kind of
girl.
And that brings me--as if I was in the gray car speeding down Maple
Lane--to Mapleshade and the Fowlers and Sylvia Hesketh.
II
About a mile from Longwood, standing among ancient, beautiful trees, is
Mapleshade, Dr. Dan Fowler's place.
It was once a farmhouse, over a century old, but two and a half years
ago when Dr. Fowler bought it he fixed it all up, raised the roof, built
on a servants' wing and a piazza with columns and turned the farm
buildings into a garage. Artists and such people say it's the prettiest
place in this part of the State, and it certainly is a picture,
especially in summer, with the lawns mown close as velvet and the
flower-beds like bits of carpet laid out to air.
The Doctor bought a big bit of land with it--I don't know how many
hundred acres--so the house, though it's not far from the village, is
kind of secluded and shut away. You get to it by Maple Lane, a little
winding road that runs between trees caught together with wild grape and
Virginia creeper. In summer they're like green walls all draped over
with the vines and in winter they turn into a rustling gray hedge, woven
so close it's hard to see through. About ten minutes' walk from the gate
of Mapleshade there's a pine that was struck by lightning and stands up
black and bare.
When the house was finished the Doctor, who was a bachelor, married Mrs.
Hesketh, a widow lady accounted rich, and he and she came there as bride
and groom with her daughter, Sylvia Hesketh. I hadn't come yet, but from
what I've heard, there was gossip about them from the start. What I can
say from my own experience is that I'd hardly got my grip unpacked when
I began to hear of the folks at Mapleshade.
They lived in great style with a housekeeper, a butler and a French maid
for the ladies. In the garage were three automobiles, Mrs. Fowler's
limousine, the Doctor's car and a dandy little roadster that belonged to
Miss Sylvia. Neither she nor the Doctor bothered much with the
chauffeur. They left him to take Mrs. Fowler round and drove themselves,
the joke going that if Miss Sylvia ever went broke she could qualify for
a chauffeur's job.
After a while the story came out that it wasn't Mrs. Fowler who was so
rich but Miss Hesketh. The late Mr. Hesketh had only left his wife a
small fortune, willing the rest--millions, it was said--to his daughter.
She was a minor--nineteen--and the trustees of the estate allowed her a
lot of money for her maintenance, thirty thousand a year they had it in
Longwood.
In spite of the grand way they lived there wasn't much company at
Mapleshade. Anne Hennessey, the housekeeper, told me Mrs. Fowler was so
dead in love with her husband she didn't want the bother of entertaining
people. And the Doctor liked a quiet life. He'd been a celebrated
surgeon in New York but had retired only for consultations and special
cases now and again. He was very good to the people round about, and
would come in and help when our little Dr. Pease, or Dr. Graham, at the
Junction, were up against something serious. I'll never forget when Mick
Donahue, the station agent's boy, got run over by Freight No. 22. But
I'm sidetracked again. Anyhow, the Doctor amputated the leg and little
Mick's stumping round on a wooden pin almost as good as ever.
But even so they weren't liked much. They held their heads very high,
Mrs. Fowler driving through the village like it was Fifth Avenue,
sending the chauffeur into the shops and not at all affable to the
tradespeople. The Doctor wouldn't trouble to give you so much as a nod,
just stride along looking straight ahead. When the story got about that
he'd lost most of the money he'd made doctoring I didn't bear any
resentment, seeing it was worry that made him that way.
But Miss Sylvia was made on a different measure. My, but she was a
winner! Even after I knew what brought Jack Reddy in from Firehill so
often I couldn't be set against her. Jealous I might be of a girl like
myself, but not of one who was the queen bee of the hive.
She was a beauty from the ground up--a blonde with hair like corn silk
that she wore in a loose, fluffy knot with little curly ends hanging on
her neck. Her face was pure pink and white, the only dark thing in it
her big brown eyes, that were as clear and soft as a baby's. And she was
a great dresser, always the latest novelty, and looking prettier in each
one. Mrs. Galway'd say to me, with her nose caught up, scornful,
"To my mind it's not refined to advertise your wealth on your back."
But I didn't worry, knowing Mrs. Galway'd have advertised hers if she'd
had the wealth or a decent shaped back to advertise it on, which she
hadn't, being round-shouldered.
There was none of the haughty ways of her parents about Miss Sylvia.
When she'd come into the exchange to send a call (a thing that puzzled
me first but I soon caught on) she'd always stop and have a pleasant
word with me. On bright afternoons I'd see her pass on horseback,
straight as an arrow, with a man's hat on her golden hair. She'd always
have a smile for everyone, touching her hat brim real sporty with the
end of her whip. Even when she was in her motor, speeding down Main
Street, she'd give you a hail as jolly as if she was your college chum.
Sometimes she'd be alone but generally there was a man along. There were
a lot of them hanging round her, which was natural, seeing she had
everything to draw them like a candle drawing moths. They'd come and go
from town and now and then stay over Sunday at the Longwood Inn--it's a
swell little place done up in the Colonial style--and you'd see them
riding and walking with her, very devoted. At first everybody thought
her parents were agreeable to all the attention she was getting. It
wasn't till the Mapleshade servants began to talk too much that we heard
the Fowlers, especially the Doctor, didn't like it.
I hadn't known her long before I began to notice something that
interested me. A telephone girl sees so many people and hears such a lot
of confidential things on the wire, that she | 199.578449 | 900 |
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Produced by deaurider, Les Galloway and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
THE
ÆSCULAPIAN LABYRINTH EXPLORED;
OR,
MEDICAL MYSTERY ILLUSTRATED.
IN A SERIES OF INSTRUCTIONS TO
YOUNG PHYSICIANS, SURGEONS, ACCOUCHERS, APOTHECARIES,
DRUGGISTS, AND PRACTITIONERS OF EVERY
DENOMINATION, IN TOWN AND COUNTRY.
INTERSPERSED WITH A VARIETY OF
RISIBLE ANECDOTES AFFECTING THE FACULTY.
INSCRIBED
TO THE COLLEGE OF WIGS,
BY
GREGORY GLYSTER,
AN OLD PRACTITIONER.
“TWENTY MORE! KILL THEM TOO.”——BOBADIL.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR G. KEARSLEY, NO. 46, FLEET-STREET.
MDCCLXXXIX.
[PRICE THREE SHILLINGS AND SIX-PENCE.]
TO THE COLLEGE OF WIGS.
“Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
“My very noble and approved good” Doctors.
The solemnity of your somniferous aspects, no less than the
professional gravity of your external ornaments, lay claim to a bow
of obedient recollection in passing through W—— k-lane to public
inspection. As one of the most _popular_ descendants from your great
progenitor, permit me to acknowledge, I revere the _vast extent_ of
your _medical abilities_; that I | 200.015643 | 901 |
2023-11-16 18:19:06.8598960 | 1,112 | 404 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Thorogood Family, by R.M. Ballantyne.
________________________________________________________________________
Although the book is written with Ballantyne's usual great skill in
descriptive passages, the actual plan of the book is most unusual for
him. In Chapter 1 he describes a young family, then describes the
exploits of some of the boys of the family, now grown-up, in Chapters 2,
3, 4 and 5. But in Chapter 5 there is introduced a story about a
schoolboy who is nothing to do with the Thorogoods, though it is quite a
good story, parts of it reminding one of "Martin Rattler," and his days
at school. In Chapter 6 we are back to one of the Thorogood boys, who
is a missionary in London, working among the poor. The final chapter
also contains a long story about a third party, and ends with most of
the family emigrating to the Rockies in North America. Here again the
enwrapped short story is a good read.
We must remember that in Ballantyne's usual style there are often two
stories in some way running parallel with each other. In this case
there are no less than six, and two of those enwrap a further story. It
is really quite unusual for Ballantyne to write in such a convoluted
manner.
But be not afraid. The stories are very short. Ballantyne normally
writes with each of his chapters nearly of the same length, but here we
have 7, 6, 7, 8, 23, 9, 36 pages in the seven chapters, and it consists
of at least ten exciting episodes. It is worth a read.
________________________________________________________________________
THE THOROGOOD FAMILY, R.M. BALLANTYNE.
CHAPTER ONE.
This family was not only Thorogood but thorough-going. The father was a
blacksmith, with five sons and one daughter, and he used to hammer truth
into his children's heads with as much vigour as he was wont to hammer
the tough iron on his anvil; but he did it kindly. He was not a
growly-wowly, cross-grained man, like some fathers we know of--not he.
His broad, hairy face was like a sun, and his eyes darted sunbeams
wherever they turned. The faces of his five sons were just like his
own, except in regard to roughness and hair. Tom, and Dick, and Harry,
and Bob, and Jim, were their names. Jim was the baby. Their ages were
equally separated. If you began with Jim, who was three, you had only
to say--four, five, six, seven--Tom being seven.
These five boys were broad, and sturdy, like their father. Like him,
also, they were fond of noise and hammering. They hammered the
furniture of their father's cottage, until all of it that was weak was
smashed, and all that was strong became dreadfully dinted. They also
hammered each other's noses with their little fat fists, at times, but
they soon grew too old and wise for that; they soon, also, left off
hammering the heads of their sister's dolls, which was a favourite
amusement in their earlier days.
The mention of dolls brings us to the sister. She was like her mother--
little, soft, fair, and sweet-voiced; just as unlike her brothers in
appearance as possible--except that she had their bright blue, blazing
eyes. Her age was eight years.
It was, truly, a sight to behold this family sit down to supper of an
evening. The blacksmith would come in and seize little Jim in his
brawny arms, and toss him up to the very beams of the ceiling, after
which he would take little Molly on his knee, and fondle her, while "Old
Moll," as he sometimes called his wife, spread the cloth and loaded the
table with good things.
A cat, a kitten, and a terrier, lived together in that smith's cottage
on friendly terms. They romped with each other, and with the five boys,
so that the noise used sometimes to be tremendous; but it was not an
unpleasant noise, because there were no sounds of discontent or
quarrelling in it. You see, the blacksmith and his wife trained that
family well. It is wonderful what an amount of noise one can stand when
it is good-humoured noise.
Well, this blacksmith had a favourite maxim, which he was fond of
impressing on his children. It was this--"Whatever your hand finds to
do, do it with all your might, doing it as if to the Lord, and not to
men." We need hardly say that he found something like this maxim in the
Bible--a grand channel through which wisdom flows to man.
Of course he had some trouble in teaching his little ones, just as other
fathers have. One evening, when speaking | 200.179306 | 902 |
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Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.
KWAIDAN: Stories and Studies of Strange Things
By Lafcadio Hearn
A Note from the Digitizer
On Japanese Pronunciation
Although simplified, the following general rules will help the reader
unfamiliar with Japanese to come close enough to Japanese pronunciation.
There are five vowels: a (as in fAther), i (as in machIne), u (as in
fOOl), e (as in fEllow), and o (as in mOle). Although certain vowels
become nearly "silent" in some environments, this phenomenon can be
safely ignored for the purpose at hand.
Consonants roughly approximate their corresponding sounds in English,
except for r, which is actually somewhere between r and l (this is why
the Japanese have trouble distinguishing between English r and l), and
f, which is much closer to h.
The spelling "KWAIDAN" is based on premodern Japanese pronunciation;
when Hearn came to Japan, the orthography reflecting this pronunciation
was still in use. In modern Japanese the word is pronounced KAIDAN.
There are many ellipses in the text. Hearn often used them in this
book; they do not represent omissions by the digitizer.
Author's original notes are in brackets, those by the digitizer are in
parentheses. Diacritical marks in the original are absent from this
digitized version.
KWAIDAN: Stories and Studies of Strange Things
By Lafcadio Hearn
TABLE OF CONTENTS
THE STORY OF MIMI-NASHI-HOICHI
OSHIDORI
THE STORY OF O-TEI
UBAZAKURA
DIPLOMACY
OF A MIRROR AND A BELL
JIKININKI
MUJINA
ROKURO-KUBI
A DEAD SECRET
YUKI-ONNA
THE STORY OF AOYAGI
JIU-ROKU-ZAKURA
THE DREAM OF AKINOSUKE
RIKI-BAKA
HI-MAWARI
HORAI
INSECT STUDIES
BUTTERFLIES
MOSQUITOES
ANTS
INTRODUCTION
The publication of a new volume of Lafcadio Hearn's exquisite studies
of Japan happens, by a delicate irony, to fall in the very month when
the world is waiting with tense expectation for news of the latest
exploits of Japanese battleships. Whatever the outcome of the present
struggle between Russia and Japan, its significance lies in the fact
that a nation of the East, equipped with Western weapons and girding
itself with Western energy of will, is deliberately measuring strength
against one of the great powers of the Occident. No one is wise enough
to forecast the results of such a conflict upon the civilization of the
world. The best one can do is to estimate, as intelligently as
possible, the national characteristics of the peoples engaged, basing
one's hopes and fears upon the psychology of the two races rather than
upon purely political and statistical studies of the complicated
questions involved in the present war. The Russian people have had
literary spokesmen who for more than a generation have fascinated the
European audience. The Japanese, on the other hand, have possessed no
such national and universally recognized figures as Turgenieff or
Tolstoy. They need an interpreter.
It may be doubted whether any oriental race has ever had an interpreter
gifted with more perfect insight and sympathy than Lafcadio Hearn has
brought to the translation of Japan into our occidental speech. His
long residence in that country, his flexibility of mind, poetic
imagination, and wonderfully pellucid style have fitted him for the
most delicate of literary tasks. He has seen marvels, and he has told
of them in a marvelous way. There is scarcely an aspect of contemporary
Japanese life, scarcely an element in the social, political, and
military questions involved in the present conflict with Russia which
is not made clear in one or another of the books with which he has
charmed American readers.
He characterizes Kwaidan as "stories and studies of strange things." A
hundred thoughts suggested by the book might be written down, but most
of them would begin and end with this fact of strangeness. To read the
very names in the table | 200.325239 | 903 |
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Produced by Neil McLachlan and David Widger
THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH
by Charles Reade
Etext Notes:
1. Greek passages are enclosed in angled brackets, e.g. {methua}, and
have been transliterated according to:alpha A, a
beta B, b
gamma G, g
delta D, d
epsilon E, e
zeta Z, z
eta Y, y
theta Th, th
iota I, i
kappa K, k
lamda L, l
mu M, m
nu N, n
omicron O, o
pi P, p
rho R, r
sigma S, s
tau T, t
phi Ph, ph
chi Ch, ch
psi Ps, ps
xi X, x
upsilon U, u
omega W, w
2. All diacritics have been removed from this version
3. References for the Author's footnotes are enclosed in square
brackets(e.g. (1)) and collected at the end of the chapter they occur
in.
4. There are 100 chapters in the book, each starting with CHAPTER R,
where R is the chapter number expressed as a Roman numeral.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
A small portion of this tale appeared in Once a Week, July-September,
1859, under the title of "A Good Fight."
After writing it, I took wider views of the subject, and also felt
uneasy at having deviated unnecessarily from the historical outline of
a true story. These two sentiments have cost me more than a year's very
hard labour, which I venture to think has not been wasted. After this
plain statement I trust all who comment on this work will see that to
describe it as a reprint would be unfair to the public and to me | 200.337077 | 904 |
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Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
AT SUVLA BAY
Being The Notes And Sketches Of Scenes, Characters
And Adventures Of The Dardanelles Campaign
By John Hargrave
("White Fox" of "The Scout ")
While Serving With The 32nd Field Ambulance, X Division, Mediterranean
Expeditionary Force, During The Great War
To
MINOBI
We played at Ali Baba,
On a green linoleum floor;
Now we camp near Lala Baba,
By the blue Aegean shore.
We sailed the good ship Argus,
Behind the studio door;
Now we try to play at "Heroes"
By the blue Aegean shore.
We played at lonely Crusoe,
In a pink print pinafore;
Now we live like lonely Crusoe,
By the blue Aegean shore.
We used to call for "Mummy,"
In nursery days of yore;
And still we dream of Mother,
By the blue Aegean shore.
While you are having holidays,
With hikes and camps galore;
We are patching sick and wounded,
By the blue Aegean shore.
J. H.
Salt Lake Dug-out,
September 12th, 1915.
(Under shell-fire.)
TURKISH WORDS
Sirt--summit.
Dargh--mountain.
Bair or bahir--spur.
Burnu--cape.
Dere--valley or stream.
Tepe--hill.
Geul--lake.
Chesheme--spring.
Kuyu--well.
Kuchuk--small.
Tekke--Moslem shrine.
Ova--plain.
Liman--bay or harbour.
Skala--landing-place.
Biyuk--great.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. IN WHICH MY KING AND COUNTRY NEED ME
II. A LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY
III. SNARED
IV. CHARACTERS
V. I HEAR OF HAWK
VI. ON THE MOVE
VII. MEDITERRANEAN NIGHTS
VIII. THE CITY OF WONDERFUL COLOUR
IX. MAROONED ON LEMNOS ISLAND
X. THE NEW LANDING
XI. THE KAPANJA SIRT
XII. THE SNIPER-HUNT
XIII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE WHITE PACK-MULE
XIV. THE SNIPER OF PEAR-TREE GULLY
XV. KANGAROO BEACH
XVI. THE ADVENTURE OF THE LOST SQUADS
XVII. "OH, TO BE IN ENGLAND!"
XVIII. TWO MEN RETURN
XIX. THE RETREAT
XX. "JHILL-O! JOHNNIE!"
XXI. SILVER BAY
XXII. DUG-OUT YARNS
XXIII. THE WISDOM OF FATHER S----
XXIV. THE SHARP-SHOOTERS
XXV. A SCOUT AT SULVA BAY
XXVI. THE BUSH-FIRES
XXVII. THE DEPARTUR
XXVIII. LOOKING BACK
AT SUVLA BAY
CHAPTER I. IN WHICH MY KING AND COUNTRY NEED ME
I left the office of The Scout, 28 Maiden Lane, W.C., on September 8th,
1914, took leave of the editor and the staff, said farewell to my little
camp in the beech-woods of Buckinghamshire and to my woodcraft scouts,
bade good-bye to my father, and went off to enlist in the Royal Army
Medical Corps.
I made my way to the Marylebone recruiting office, and after waiting
about for hours, I went at last upstairs and "stripped out" with a lot
of other men for the medical examination.
The smell of human sweat was overpowering in the little ante-room. Some
of the men had hearts and anchors and ships and dancing-girls tattooed
in blue on their chests and arms. Some were skinny and others too
fat. Very few looked fit. I remarked upon the shyness they suffered in
walking about naked.
"Did yer pass?"
"No, 'e spotted it," said the dejected rejected.
"Wot?"
"Rupture."
"Got | 200.678166 | 905 |
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Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Irma Spehar and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY
[Illustration: _F. Max Mueller Aged 4._]
MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY
A FRAGMENT
BY THE
RT. HON. PROFESSOR F. MAX MUeLLER, K.M.
_WITH PORTRAITS_
New York
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1901
COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
TROW DIRECTORY
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
NEW YORK
PREFACE
For some years past my father had, in the intervals of more serious
work, occupied his leisure moments in jotting down reminiscences of
his early life. In 1898 and 1899 he issued the two volumes of _Auld
Lang Syne_, which contained recollections of his friends, but very
little about his own life and career. In the Introductory Chapter to
the Autobiography he explains fully the reasons which led him, at his
advanced age, to undertake the task of writing his own Life, and he
began, but alas! too late, to gather together the fragments that he
had written at different times. But even during the last two years of
his life, and after the first attack of the illness which finally
proved fatal, he would not devote himself entirely to what he
considered mere recreation, as can be seen from such a work as his
_Six Systems of Indian Philosophy_ published in May, 1889, and from
the numerous articles which continued to appear up to the very time of
his death.
During the last weeks of his life, when we all knew that the end could
not be far off, the Autobiography was constantly in his thoughts, | 200.773476 | 906 |
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Produced by David Widger
MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, PG EDITION, 1566-1574, Complete
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC
By JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY
1855
VOLUME 2, Book 1., 1566
1566 [CHAPTER VIII.]
Secret policy of the government--Berghen and Montigny in Spain--
Debates at Segovia--Correspondence of the Duchess with Philip--
Procrastination and dissimulation of the King--Secret communication
to the Pope--Effect in the provinces of the King's letters to the
government--Secret instructions to the Duchess--Desponding
statements of Margaret--Her misrepresentations concerning Orange,
Egmont, and others--Wrath and duplicity of Philip--Egmont's
exertions in Flanders--Orange returns to Antwerp--His tolerant
spirit--Agreement of 2d September--Horn at Tournay--Excavations in
the Cathedral--Almost universal attendance at the preaching--
Building of temples commenced--Difficult position of Horn--Preaching
in the Clothiers' Hall--Horn recalled--Noircarmes at Tournay--
Friendly correspondence of Margaret with Orange, Egmont, Horn, and
Hoogstraaten--Her secret defamation of these persons.
Egmont in Flanders, Orange at Antwerp, Horn at Tournay; Hoogstraaten at
Mechlin, were exerting themselves to suppress insurrection and to avert
ruin. What, meanwhile, was the policy of the government? The secret
course pursued both at Brussels and at Madrid may be condensed into the
usual formula--dissimulation, procrastination, and again dissimulation.
It is at this point necessary to take a rapid survey of the open and the
secret proceedings of the King and his representatives from the moment at
which Berghen and Montigny arrived in Madrid. Those ill-fated gentlemen
had been received with apparent cordiality, and admitted to frequent, but
unmeaning, interviews with his Majesty. The current upon which they were
embarked was deep and treacherous, but it was smooth and very slow. They
assured the King that his letters, ordering the rigorous execution of the
inquisition and edicts, had engendered all the evils under which the
provinces were laboring. They told him that Spaniards and tools of
Spaniards had attempted to govern the country, to the exclusion of native
citizens and nobles, but that it would soon be found that Netherlanders
were not to be trodden upon like the abject inhabitants of Milan, Naples,
and Sicily. Such words as these struck with an unaccustomed sound upon
the royal ear, but the envoys, who were both Catholic and loyal, had no
idea, in thus expressing their opinions, according to their sense of
duty, and in obedience to the King's desire, upon the causes of the
discontent, that they were committing an act of high treason.
When the news of the public preaching reached Spain, there were almost
daily consultations at the grove of Segovia. The eminent personages who
composed the royal council were the Duke of Alva, the Count de Feria, Don
Antonio de Toledo, Don Juan Manrique de Lara, Ruy Gomez, Quixada,
Councillor Tisnacq, recently appointed President of the State Council,
and Councillor Hopper. Six Spaniards and two Netherlanders, one of whom,
too, a man of dull intellect and thoroughly subservient character, to
deal with the local affairs of the Netherlands in a time of intense
excitement! The instructions of the envoys had been to represent the
necessity of according three great points--abolition of the inquisition,
moderation of the edicts, according to the draft prepared in Brussels,
and an ample pardon for past transactions. There was much debate upon all
these propositions. Philip said little, but he listened attentively to
the long discourses in council, and he took an incredible quantity of
notes. It was the general opinion that this last demand on the part of
the Netherlanders was the fourth link in the chain of treason. The first
had been the cabal by which Granvelle had been expelled; the second, the
mission of Egmont, the main object of which had been to procure a
modification of the state council, in order to bring that body under the
control of a few haughty and rebellious nobles; the third had been the
presentation of the insolent and seditious Request; and now, to crown the
whole, came a proposition embodying the three points--abolition of the
inquisition, revocation of the edicts, and a pardon to criminals, for
whom death was the only sufficient punishment.
With regard to these three points, it was, after much wrangling, decided
to grant them under certain restrictions. To abolish the inquisition
would be to remove the only instrument by which the Church had been
accustomed to regulate the consciences and the doctrines of its subjects.
It would be equivalent to a concession of religious freedom, at least to
individuals within their own domiciles, than which no concession could be
more pernicious. Nevertheless, it might be advisable to permit the
temporary cessation of the papal inquisition, now that the episcopal
inquisition had been so much enlarged and strengthened in the
Netherlands, on the condition that this branch of the institution should
be maintained in energetic condition. With regard to the Moderation, it
was thought better to defer that matter till, the proposed visit of his
Majesty to the provinces. If, however, the Regent should think it
absolutely necessary to make a change, she must cause a new draft to be
made, as that which had been sent was not found admissible. Touching the
pardon general, it would be necessary to make many conditions and
restrictions before it could be granted. Provided these were sufficiently
minute to exclude all persons whom it might be found desirable to
chastise, the amnesty was possible. Otherwise it was quite out of the
question.
Meantime, Margaret of Parma had been urging her brother to come to a
decision, painting the distracted condition of the country in the
liveliest colors, and insisting, although perfectly aware of Philip's
private sentiments, upon a favorable decision as to the three points
demanded by the envoys. Especially she urged her incapacity to resist any
rebellion, and demanded succor of men and money in case the "Moderation"
were not accepted by his Majesty.
It was the last day of July before the King wrote at all, to communicate
his decisions upon the crisis which had occurred in the first week of
April. The disorder for which he had finally prepared a prescription had,
before his letter arrived, already passed through its subsequent stages
of the field-preaching and the image-breaking. Of course these fresh
symptoms would require much consultation, pondering, and note-taking
before they could be dealt with. In the mean time they would be
considered as not yet having happened. This was the masterly
procrastination of the sovereign, when his provinces were in a blaze.
His masterly dissimulation was employed in the direction suggested by his
councillors. Philip never originated a thought, nor laid down a plan, but
he was ever true to the falsehood of his nature, and was indefatigable in
following out the suggestions of others. No greater mistake can be made
than to ascribe talent to this plodding and pedantic monarch. The man's
intellect was contemptible, but malignity and duplicity, almost
superhuman; have effectually lifted his character out of the regions of
the common-place. He wrote accordingly to say that the pardon, under
certain conditions, might be granted, and that the papal inquisition
might cease--the bishops now being present in such numbers, "to take care
of their flocks," and the episcopal inquisition being, therefore
established upon so secure a basis. He added, that if a moderation of the
edicts were still desired, a new project might be sent to Madrid, as the
one brought by Berghen and Montigny was not satisfactory. In arranging
this wonderful scheme for composing the tumults of the country, which had
grown out of a determined rebellion to the inquisition in any form, he
followed not only the advice, but adopted the exact language of his
councillors.
Certainly, here was not much encouragement for patriotic hearts in the
Netherlands. A pardon, so restricted that none were likely to be forgiven
save those who had done no wrong; an episcopal inquisition stimulated to
renewed exertions, on the ground that the papal functionaries were to be
discharged; and a promise that, although the proposed Moderation of the
edicts seemed too mild for the monarch's acceptance, yet at some future
period another project would be matured for settling the matter to
universal satisfaction--such were the propositions of the Crown.
Nevertheless, Philip thought he had gone too far, even in administering
this meagre amount of mercy, and that he had been too frank in employing
so slender a deception, as in the scheme thus sketched. He therefore
summoned a notary, before whom, in presence of the Duke of Alva, the
Licentiate Menchaca and Dr. Velasco, he declared that, although he had
just authorized Margaret of Parma, by force of circumstances, to grant
pardon to all those who had been compromised in the late disturbances of
the Netherlands, yet as he had not done this spontaneously nor freely, he
did not consider himself bound by the authorization, but that, on the
contrary, he reserved his right to punish all the guilty, and
particularly those who had been the authors and encouragers of the
sedition.
So much for the pardon promised in his official correspondence.
With regard to the concessions, which he supposed himself to have made in
the matter of the inquisition and the edicts, he saved his conscience by
another process. Revoking with his right hand all which his left had been
doing, he had no sooner despatched his letters to the Duchess Regent than
he sent off another to his envoy at Rome. In this despatch he instructed
Requesens to inform the Pope as to the recent royal decisions upon the
three points, and to state that there had not been time to consult his
Holiness beforehand. Nevertheless, continued Philip "the prudent," it was
perhaps better thus, since the abolition could have no force, unless the
Pope, by whom the institution had been established, consented to its
suspension. This matter, however, was to be kept a profound secret. So
much for the inquisition matter. The papal institution, notwithstanding
the official letters, was to exist, unless the Pope chose to destroy it;
and his Holiness, as we have seen, had sent the Archbishop of Sorrento, a
few weeks before, to Brussels, for the purpose of concerting secret
measures for strengthening the "Holy Office" in the provinces.
With regard to the proposed moderation of the edicts, Philip informed
| 200.8721 | 907 |
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Produced by Richard Tonsing, readbueno and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS.
[Illustration:
“_Squib flung himself upon the dog, and threw his arms about his
neck._”
Page 17.
]
SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS ❧ BY E. EVERETT-GREEN
LONDON, EDINBURGH,
AND NEW YORK
THOMAS NELSON
AND SONS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS.
I. “THE ODD ONE,” 9
II. GOING AWAY, 28
III. THE CHALET IN THE HILLS, 47
IV. THE LITTLE GOAT-HERD, 65
V. COMRADES, 84
VI. HERR ADLER, 102
VII. HAPPY HOURS, 124
VIII. A WONDERFUL WALK, 148
IX. A STORY AND A FAREWELL, 175
X. A MOUNTAIN STORM, 204
XI. PLANS AND PROJECTS, 221
XII. FAREWELLS, 238
XIII. GOING HOME, 256
XIV. CONCLUSION, 272
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
“SQUIB FLUNG HIMSELF UPON THE DOG, AND THREW HIS ARMS _Frontispiece_.
ABOUT HIS NECK,”
“SQUIB LISTENED WITH A STRANGE SENSE OF FASCINATION,” 68
“BREATHLESSLY ONE BOY WORKED AND THE OTHER WATCHED,” 94
“DOWN, DOWN, DOWN—WITH A CRASH, AND A BANG, AND A 169
ROAR!”
“SEPPI DREW SQUIB’S HAND DOWN UPON THE HEAD OF MOOR,” 254
“SQUIB’S BROTHERS AND SISTERS REJOICED OVER THE PRETTY 283
GIFTS HE HAD BROUGHT THEM,”
SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS.
CHAPTER I.
“THE ODD ONE.”
That was the name Squib went by in the nursery and in the household—“the
odd one.” Not exactly because of any personal peculiarities—although he
had a few of these—but because he had no especial brother or sister
belonging to him, and seemed to stand alone, whilst all the others could
be paired off together.
Norman and Frank were big boys, away at school most of the year, near to
each other in age, and always together in the holidays. Philippa and
Molly came next, and were girls, devoted to each other and to their
family of dolls, and even more devoted to the live dolls in the
nursery—the little twin sisters, Hilda and Hulda, whom nobody knew apart
save themselves and the nurse. But Squib had no brother or sister to be
bracketed with him. The baby who came next in age to him had died in
infancy, and was only a dim memory to the brother just above him in age.
So he had always been, as it were, “the odd one” of the family, although
his sisters were very fond of him, and never refused him a share in
their games when he wanted to join in them.
But Squib did not care for dolls, and his tastes lay amongst things
beyond the walls of nursery or schoolroom. He wanted always to be out of
doors when not busy with his lessons for Mademoiselle (for so far he had
not gone to school, but had been taught with his sisters in the
schoolroom); and his pursuits were not of a kind to be attractive to the
dainty little ladies, Philippa and Molly, or to find favour in the eyes
of nurse, who reigned supreme over Hilda and Hulda. So Squib got into
the way of amusing himself in his own fashion, and took his name of “the
odd one” with great equanimity.
Squib was not his real name, as I suppose I need hardly say; it was a
nickname given him by his father some years before my story begins, and
it had stuck to him ever since. His real name was Sydenham, and he had
been called Syd for a time, till Colonel Rutland had hit upon this other
appellation.
And the reason for this was a habit of Squib’s which amused his father a
good deal. The child had a way of sitting perfectly still and silent for
a very long time in the room, not speaking, even when spoken to, until
some exhaustive mental process had taken place, after which he would
suddenly “go off,” as his father expressed it, and talk rapidly and
eagerly for several minutes straight on end; then having thus relieved
his mind and delivered himself of his thoughts, he would relapse into
dead silence until ready for the next explosion. And so his father
called him “Squib;” and Squib he became in time to the whole household.
It was commonly whispered about the place that Squib was the Colonel’s
favourite amongst his children. Colonel Rutland was not a man who had
taken a great deal of notice of his sons and daughters as they appeared
upon the scene. He was a busy man, having a large estate to order, being
a magistrate, churchwarden, and guardian of the poor-law, and having
social duties to attend to as well. He was a most devoted husband; and
people used to say that never was there a happier couple than he and
Lady Mary, his beautiful wife. He was proud of his fine young family in
the aggregate, but did not notice the children very much individually,
until one or two small incidents brought Squib before his eyes.
The first of these was a severe altercation which he chanced to overhear
between the child and his nurse when Squib was five years old. He was
walking through the shrubberies one morning when the sound of raised
voices attracted his attention, the first being that of a child lifted
in indignant protest.
“It’s not a lie. I never tell lies! I _did_ hear father sing it his own
self!”
“Master Syd, that’s not true. Your father never would sing such a wicked
song. It only makes it worse, telling stories about it!”
“It isn’t a story!—it isn’t, I tell you! I heard him my own self, and
lots of other people heard him, too. It’s you who are wicked, saying I
tell lies and father sings wicked songs!” and the crunch of the gravel
betrayed the fact that Squib had brought his small foot heavily down
upon it in a stamp of passionate wrath.
Colonel Rutland turned a corner and came full upon the combatants. The
nurse—a most excellent and trustworthy woman, who had been for twelve
years with them—was looking very grieved and disturbed as she held Squib
by the hand, as if with the intention of taking him at once before some
domestic tribunal; whilst the child’s square, determined face was
flushed a deep crimson, his dark-grey eyes looked almost black, as they
had a way of doing in moments of passion and excitement, and his whole
frame was quivering with anger and protest as he reiterated his
assertion that he was speaking nothing but the truth.
“What is all this?” asked Colonel Rutland in a deep voice. “Squib, what
do you mean by resisting your nurse like that? I will have no
insubordination to authority in my house—you know that as well as I do.”
For Colonel Rutland, with his military training, was a martinet in his
house about discipline, and his children knew perfectly that he would be
more severe over an act of disobedience than over any other kind of
transgression.
Squib and the nurse both started at the sound of the Colonel’s voice,
and nurse dropped the hand she was holding and made a respectful
courtesy to her master. Squib stood perfectly silent, after his fashion,
for a full minute, and then burst into rapid speech,—
“I wasn’t resisting her, father. She told me I was telling lies—and I’m
not. You did sing it. I heard you; and it isn’t wicked—and she didn’t
ought to say it was. I don’t tell lies. I never did. It isn’t lies—it’s
only about them!”
The Colonel held up his hand to command silence.
“What does all this mean?” he asked, turning to nurse.
“If you please, sir, I heard Master Syd singing something that didn’t
sound right for a young gentleman, and when I told him I wouldn’t have
wicked words sung, he turned and said that he’d heard you sing them,
which I was quite sure was not true, and I told him so. And then he went
off into one of his tantrums—which I hoped he was learning to get better
of—and that’s all I know about it. But I am quite sure he is not
speaking the truth.”
“Leave him to me and I will get at the rights of the matter,” said the
Colonel; and nurse, who had an ailing baby indoors (Squib’s little
brother who shortly afterwards died), was glad to go in to see after
him, leaving Squib and his father to settle things together about the
song.
“Now, Squib,” said Colonel Rutland, with grave severity of manner, “let
me hear the whole truth of this from you. What is it you were singing?
Don’t be afraid to speak the truth.”
“I’m not afraid a bit!” cried Squib, after his habitual pause. “I’ll
sing it to you now. _You’ll_ know it—it’s your own song,” and taking a
deep breath and swelling himself out in unconscious imitation of a
singer about to commence his song, the child broke out with the
following words, sung in a deep voice as like that of a man as he could
achieve—
“Fi-ive del dies—
The father of lies!”
And then suddenly breaking off he looked up at his father and cried,—
“You know you did sing it yourself, father—so it can’t be wicked!”
The Colonel was puzzled. There was something in the rhythm of the notes
that was familiar to him; but what could the child mean? How had he got
hold of those absurd words, and what was in his head?
“When did you hear me sing it, Squib?” he asked, still not permitting
his face to relax.
“Why, father—you know—when all those people came, and you read such a
lot of funny things in turn in the drawing-room and sang songs. There
was another song about ‘Ban, ban, Ca-Caliban’—you _must_ remember; but
it was you who sang about the father of lies, and it can’t be wicked if
you did it, though nurse does say so!”
Colonel Rutland broke into a sudden laugh. The whole thing flashed
across him now. From time to time in that neighbourhood there were
gatherings generally known by the name of “Shakespeare readings”—friends
meeting together at one another’s houses to read a play of the great
dramatist’s, the parts being allotted by previous arrangement. Not very
long since “The Tempest” had been read in this way at Rutland Chase, and
the children had been allowed to come into the room for part of it. It
was just the kind of thing to fascinate Squib, and perhaps he had
succeeded in hiding away and being up longer than was known. At any
rate, he had evidently heard his father sing the well-known song—
“Full fathom five,
Thy father lies;”
and, with the capricious alchemy of a child’s mind over anything not
understood, had transformed it to the version which had aroused the ire
of his nurse.
Something in this little incident tickled the fancy of the Colonel and
attracted his attention towards Squib, who had always amused him when he
had had time to notice his children; and the bond was more closely drawn
between them by two little incidents which occurred, one after the
other, during the ensuing year.
The first of these had reference to a very fine Russian wolf-hound,
which had been presented to Colonel Rutland a short time before. It was
an animal almost as big as a calf, of a slate colour merging almost in
black, with a head very broad across the brows, and a voice like a
church bell. He was a very magnificent animal, but he had a fierce
temper, and made few friends. Colonel Rutland was one of these few, but
even he did not feel that he had the dog very well under control, and
always took him out with a certain sense of misgiving.
One of the chief difficulties with regard to the creature was that he
was so fierce when chained up that it was hardly safe to approach him,
either to give him his food or to let him loose when the time for his
daily run had arrived. Colonel Rutland was having a place made for him
where he could be shut up without being chained, which he hoped would
tend to the humanizing and taming of him; but, meantime, he had to be
fastened up in the yard when not at large, and Colonel Rutland made a
point of both chaining and loosing him himself—although it was not
without misgiving that he approached the great brute straining on his
chain, and glaring out at the world with red, defiant eyes.
One day, as he was approaching the kennel, liking the looks of the dog
rather less even than usual, he stood meditating at a short distance as
to whether it were really safe to keep such a fierce animal on the
premises, and whether he might not be running a foolish risk in going
near him. He was startled by the sound of a small voice proceeding from
an invisible questioner quite near at hand.
“Father,” said the little voice, “shall I let Czar out for you?”
Colonel Rutland looked up, and looked down, and looked round about him,
and again came the sound of the small voice, saying,—
“I’m in Czar’s kennel, father.”
The Colonel had certainly never thought of looking in such a place for
the speaker. Now, turning his startled glance in that direction, he saw
Squib sitting curled up on the clean straw in the huge kennel, looking
out from his nest with a friendly smile.
For a moment the fathers heart stood still. Suppose the great brute
should turn and see him! It was with difficulty he commanded his voice
to say quietly, whilst himself striving to attract the notice of the
dog, “Come out, Squib; come very quietly.”
But the child never heard the last words; he jumped up at once and made
an outward bound, flinging himself upon the dog as he did so, and
throwing his arms about his neck.
“Oh, father, if you would only let me have Czar to go out with me
sometimes! We should have such fun together!”
At the touch of those small childish hands the aspect of the dog changed
at once. The lifted crest along his back smoothed down, the red light in
his eyes changed altogether, the fierce bay ceased, for the creature was
engaged in licking the child’s hands and face, and in fondling him with
evident delight. The father looked on in amaze, and when Squib repeated
his question, “Shall I let him out now?” he gave his assent rather by
sign than by word, so great was his surprise at what he saw.
“Oh, father, _may_ I go with you?” pleaded Squib, with great, wistful
eyes. “I’ve never been out with Czar yet—and I should so like to!”
His father held out a ready hand.
“Come along, my little man. We will go together. How came you and Czar
to be such friends? I did not know he had made real friends with anybody
yet.”
Squib did not immediately answer; he was watching the gambols of the
great dog careering round and round them in wide circles—a thing he had
never done before when out with Colonel Rutland, always making a rush
ahead, and only coming reluctantly to his side when called with
authority. Whenever Squib held out his hand, Czar made a dash at him and
licked it; and once the child jumped upon the great creature’s back, and
Czar took him for a breathless scamper across the park—Squib holding on
like a little monkey; and only when he had come back and was holding his
father’s hand again did he “go off,” and enter into explanations of this
strange friendship.
“You see, father, it was like this—Czar had nobody to love him. They
were all afraid of him. I saw coachman give him his supper one day—he
had the stable broom, and he pushed the pan to Czar with it, and never
even gave him a pat, or said a kind word to him. And it _did_ seem so
hard! So when he was gone I just went up and patted him as he was eating
his great bones, and then I sat just inside his kennel and talked to him
all the time, and made it sociable for him; and he brought me the
biggest bone of all, and I pretended I liked it very much, and then I
gave it him back and he lay down and ate it, and I stroked him and
talked to him all the time. He is such an interesting dog to talk to
when you know him. And after that I went every day, and—when I can—I
give him his food, and we always have a great deal of conversation, and
it isn’t nearly so dull for him as it was at first. But I’ve never been
able to go out with him, because coachman says I mustn’t loose him. But
we’ve always longed to take walks together, and if you say we may, it
_will_ be so nice.”
Colonel Rutland listened to all this with something of a shiver. He had
not lived all this while without having known many instances of the
wonderful understanding between children and animals, or of the
forbearance shown often by the fiercest creatures to confiding little
children; but, nevertheless, he could not picture the first approach of
his small son to that great fierce dog in the midst of his bones without
a trem | 201.152138 | 908 |
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Produced by sp1nd, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration: Decoration]
THE CONQUEST OF ROME
_By_
MATILDE SERAO
AUTHOR OF
"THE LAND OF COCKAYNE"
"THE BALLET DANCER" ETC.
[Illustration: Logo]
HARPER & BROTHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
PUBLISHERS.. 1902
[Illustration: Decoration]
Published October, 1902
PART I
CHAPTER I
The train stopped.
'Capua! Capua!' three or four voices cried monotonously into the night.
A clanking of swords dragged on the ground was heard, and some lively
muttering that passed between a Lombard and a Piedmontese. It came from
a group of subaltern officers, who were ending their evening's amusement
in coming to see the night train from Naples to Rome pass through. While
the conductor chatted respectfully with the station-master, who gave him
a commission for Caianello, and while the postman handed up a mail-sack
full of letters to the clerk in the postal van, the officers, talking to
each other and making their spurs ring (from habit), looked to see if
anyone got in or out of the train, peeping through the doors which were
open for the sight of a fair feminine face or that of a friend. But many
of the doors were closed. Blue blinds were stretched over the panes,
through which glimmered a faint lamplight, as if coming from a place
where lay travellers overpowered by sleep. Bodies curled up in a dark
tangle of coats, shawls, | 201.362087 | 909 |
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Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Jana Srna and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was made using scans of public domain works in
the International Children's Digital Library.)
[Illustration: NETTIE COMFORTS HER MOTHER.]
THE
CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER.
"Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called
the children of God."
BY THE AUTHORS OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD," ETC. ETC.
WITH FRONTISPIECE.
LONDON:
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE.
BY THE AUTHORS OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD."
Price ONE SHILLING each, with Frontispiece
THE TWO SCHOOLGIRLS.
THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER.
THE PRINCE IN DISGUISE.
GERTRUDE AND HER BIBLE.
MARTHA AND RACHEL.
THE WIDOW AND HER DAUGHTER.
THE LITTLE BLACK HEN.
THE ROSE IN THE DESERT.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS.
London: Savill, Edwards & Co., Printers, Chandos Street.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK 1
II. SUNDAY'S REST 20
III. NETTIE'S GARRET 55
IV. THE BROWN CLOAK IN NOVEMBER 69
V. THE NEW BLANKET 82
VI. THE HOUSE-RAISING 97
VII. THE WAFFLES 112
VIII. THE GOLDEN CITY 135
THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER I.
SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK.
Down in a little hollow, with the sides grown full of wild thorn, alder
bushes, and stunted cedars, ran the stream of a clear spring. It ran
over a bed of pebbly stones, showing every one as if there had been no
water there, so clear it was; and it ran with a sweet soft murmur or
gurgle over the stones, as if singing to itself and the bushes as it
ran.
On one side of the little stream a worn foot path took its course among
the bushes; and down this path one summer's afternoon came a woman and a
girl. They had pails to fill at the spring; the woman had a large wooden
one, and the girl a light tin pail; and they drew the water with a
little tin dipper, for it was not deep enough to let a pail be used for
that. The pails were filled in silence, only the spring always was
singing; and the woman and the girl turned and went up the path again.
After getting up the bank, which was only a few feet, the path still
went gently rising through a wild bit of ground, full of trees and low
bushes; and not far off, through the trees, there came a gleam of bright
light from the window of a house, on which the setting sun was shining.
Half way to the house the girl and the woman stopped to rest; for water
is heavy, and the tin pail which was so light before it was filled, had
made the little girl's figure bend over to one side like a willow branch
all the way from the spring. They stopped to rest, and even the woman
had a very weary, jaded look.
"I feel as if I shall give up, some of these days," she exclaimed.
"O no, mother!" the little girl answered, cheerfully. She was panting,
with her hand on her side, and her face had a quiet, very sober look;
only at those words a little pleasant smile broke over it.
"I shall," said the woman. "One can't stand everything,--for ever."
The little girl had not got over panting yet, but standing there she
struck up the sweet air and words,--
"'There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary,
There is rest for you.'"
"Yes, in the grave!" said the woman, bitterly. "There's no rest short of
that,--for mind or body."
"O yes, mother dear. 'For we which have believed do enter into rest.'
Jesus don't make us wait."
"I believe you eat the Bible and sleep on the Bible," said the woman,
with a faint smile, taking at the same time a corner of her apron to
wipe away a stray tear which had gathered in her eye. "I am glad it
rests you, Nettie."
"And you, mother."
"Sometimes," Mrs. Mathieson answered, with a sigh. "But there's your
father going to bring home a boarder, Nettie."
"A boarder, mother!--What for?"
"Heaven knows!--if it isn't to break my back, and my heart together. I
thought I had enough to manage before, but here's this man coming, and
I've got to get everything ready for him by to-morrow night."
"Who is it, mother?"
"It's one of your father's friends; so it's no good," said Mrs.
Mathieson.
"But where can he sleep?" Nettie asked, after a moment of thinking. Her
mother paused.
"There's no room but yours he can have. Barry wont be moved."
"Where shall I sleep | 202.080057 | 910 |
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Produced by Michael Gray, Diocese of San Jose
[Illustration: "Moses strikes the rock."]
MOSES STRIKES THE ROCK
ALTEMUS'
CHILDREN OF THE BIBLE SERIES
THE ADOPTED SON
BY
J. H. WILLARD
ILLUSTRATED
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
Altemus' Illustrated
Children of the Bible Series
The Boy who Obeyed
The Story of Isaac
The Farmer Boy
The Story of Jacob
The Favorite Son
The Story of Joseph
The Adopted Son
The Story of Moses
The Boy General
The Story of Joshua
The Boy at School
The Story of Samuel
The Shepherd Boy
The Story of David
The Boy who would be King
The Story of Absalom
The Captive Boy
The Story of Daniel
The Boy Jesus
Fifty Cents Each
Copyright, 1905
By Henry Altemus
[Illustration: Moses brings the Ten Commandments down from Mount
Sinai.]
THE ADOPTED SON
THE STORY OF MOSES
ABRAHAM, a descendant of Shem, one of the sons of Noah, was the
father and founder of the great Israelitish, or Hebrew, nation. God
chose him from all the people living on the earth at that time, for
this purpose, promising that He would make his name great and that
his descendants should have for their own the land of Canaan, a
country in Palestine lying west of the river Jordan and the Dead Sea.
Abraham had a son named Isaac, who became the father of Jacob, and
Jacob was the father of twelve sons, among whom was Joseph, who was
sold into slavery by his brothers when but a boy. Joseph was taken to
Egypt and in time rose from a slave to be the governor of that
country under Pharaoh, its king.
Jacob, with his eleven sons and their families, settled in Egypt at
the invitation of Pharaoh, and after the death of their father his
sons continued to live there, and became prosperous. After the death
of Joseph they increased rapidly in numbers, and from shepherds and
herders of flocks became masters of various crafts and occupations.
At this time they began to be called "The Children of Israel."
They lived in towns and villages in the land of Goshen, on the
eastern border of Egypt, industrious and contented. The king who had
been so friendly to Joseph was now dead, and another Pharaoh ruled
the land. He watched with much distrust the growing wealth and
greatness of the children of Israel and determined to prevent any
possible harm they might do him by making them work for him instead
of for themselves.
So Pharaoh began to treat the Israelites like slaves. Under the
direction of his officers he set them at work making bricks and then
had them build two cities to hold his treasures. From a prosperous
people they were now reduced to the condition of common laborers,
working without pay day after day in the burning heat of that
country.
[Illustration: "Working without pay day after day."]
"WORKING WITHOUT PAY DAY AFTER DAY."
But in spite of their hardships the Israelites increased in numbers,
and, to further crush them, Pharaoh ordered that all their boys
should be destroyed as soon as they were born. But the people would
not obey this order, and then Pharaoh commanded that all boys should
be flung into the Nile, the sacred river of Egypt, immediately after
their birth.
At this time a child was born among the Israelites whose life was to
be one of the most remarkable that history has recorded for us. His
father's name was Amram and his mother's Jochebed, and they belonged
to the tribe of Levi, the third son of Jacob. They had two older
children, a son named Aaron and a daughter named Miriam.
The mother of this little boy managed to keep him out of sight for
three months, and then she made a little boat of the water-reeds
called papyrus, fastening them together with clay and pitch. It was
not much more than a basket, but she put the baby into it and placed
it among the rushes at the edge of the river Nile, leaving her
daughter Miriam to see what became of her baby brother.
The Egyptians had many beliefs which appear very strange to us now.
One of them was that anything surrounded by papyrus would be safe
from the crocodiles which infested the river. Possibly Jochebed had
some faith in this superstition, for during the time when the
Israelites were living contentedly in the land of Goshen, many of
them had fallen into the customs of the Egyptians, worshipping Ra,
the sun-god, Apis, the sacred calf, and others of their national
deities.
While Miriam was watching the little boat and its precious burden,
the daughter of Pharaoh, with her attendants, came to the river to
bathe. She saw the little boat floating among the rushes and ordered
it to be brought to her. As she looked down at the baby it cried,
and, while she must have known that it was the child of Israelitish
parents, her heart went out to it in pity, and she declared that she
would bring it up as if it had been her own child.
[Illustration: "It was not much more than a basket."]
"IT WAS NOT MUCH MORE THAN A BASKET."
Miriam then came forward and asked if she might find a nurse for the
child. The princess sent her on this errand and the little girl
hastened to bring her mother. Then the princess gave the baby into
the charge of its own mother, and promised her that she should be
paid for taking good care of the child.
When the baby had grown to be quite a boy the princess took him to
her palace and treated him as if he had been a son of her own. She
named him Moses, which means "drawn out," because she had taken him
from the water.
Then the princess had him trained and taught as though he were really
to be a prince. He was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians
and became learned and powerful. All the pleasures and honors of
Pharaoh's court were open to him, and from them he could have
selected what pleased him most.
But the misery and degradation of his own people appealed to him | 202.145452 | 911 |
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Produced by deaurider, Dianne Nolan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Italics are indicated by _underscores_.
Hyphenation inconsistencies: both Bald-headed and Baldheaded are
used.
The
Theatrical Primer
BY
HAROLD ACTON VIVIAN
_Illustrations by
FRANCIS P. SAGERSON_
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
H. A. VIVIAN
COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
_The Theatrical
Primer_
The Theatrical Primer
1
Here, children, is a Theatre. A Theatre is a big Playhouse where actors
Act--sometimes | 202.380956 | 912 |
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E-text prepared by Al Haines
HOW WOMEN LOVE
(Soul Analysis.)
Translated from the German of
MAX NORDAU,
Author of "Degeneration," "The Malady of the Century,"
"The Comedy of Sentiment," Etc., Etc
Copyright, 1898, by F. T. Neely.
Copyright, 1901, by Hurst & Co.
New York
Hurst & Company
Publishers
CONTENTS
Justice or Revenge
Prince and Peasant
The Art of Growing Old
How Women Love
A Midsummer Night's Dream
JUSTICE OR REVENGE.
CHAPTER I.
A more unequally matched couple than the cartwright Molnar and his wife
can seldom be seen. When, on Sunday, the pair went to church through
the main street of Kisfalu, an insignificant village in the Pesth
county, every one looked after them, though every child, nay, every cur
in the hamlet, knew them and, during the five years since their
marriage, might have become accustomed to the spectacle. But it seemed
as though it produced an ever new and surprising effect upon the by no
means sensitive inhabitants of Kisfalu, who imposed no constraint upon
themselves to conceal the emotions awakened by the sight of the Molnar
pair. They never called the husband by any other name than "Csunya
Pista," ugly Stephen. And he well merited the epithet. He was
one-eyed, had a broken, shapeless nose, and an ugly scar, on which no
hair grew, upon his upper lip, so that his moustache looked as if it
had been shaven off there; to complete the picture, one of his upper
eye-teeth and incisors were missing, and he had the unpleasant habit of
putting his tongue into these gaps in his upper row of teeth, which
rendered his countenance still more repulsive.
The wife, on the contrary, was a very beautiful woman, a magnificent
type of the Magyar race. She was tall, powerful, only perhaps a trifle
too broad-shouldered. Her intensely dark hair and sparkling black eyes
suited the warm bronze hue of her plump face, which, with its little
mouth filled with magnificent teeth, its fresh full lips, the
transparent, enamel like crimson of the firm, round cheeks, and the
somewhat low, but beautifully formed brow, suggested a newly-ripe
peach. This unusually healthy countenance, overspread with a light
down, involuntarily produced in the spectator the impression that it
must exhale a warm, intoxicating, spicy fragrance; it looked so
tempting that one would fain have bitten it.
This had been much the feeling of the Uhlan officers who, with part of
a company of men, were stationed in Kisfalu. From the first day that
the three gentlemen had entered their village garrison the beautiful
woman had attracted their attention, and they had seen in the husband's
ugliness a pleasant encouragement to make gallant advances. The
captain, a Bohemian gentleman, was the first to introduce himself to
the fair wife. The morning of the second day after his arrival in the
hamlet, taking advantage of the absence of the master of the house, he
stole into the miserable clay hut tenanted by the ill-assorted pair,
but remained inside only a few minutes, after which he came out with a
deeply-flushed face and somewhat hasty steps, cast stealthy glances
around him to the right and left, and then hurried away. In the
afternoon of the same day, the young lieutenant tried his luck, but he
too left the cartwright's hut more quickly than he had entered, and not
exactly with the air of a conqueror. In the evening the three
gentlemen met in the spare room of the tavern where they took their
meals, and were remarkably taciturn and ill-tempered. On the third day
the slender, handsome first lieutenant called on the cartwright's wife.
He was a far-famed conqueror of women's hearts, which he was accustomed
to win with as little trouble as a child gathers strawberries in the
woods, and was envied by the whole regiment for his numberless
successes, which he did not treat with too much reticence. This time
the adventure lasted somewhat longer; those who were passing heard loud
outcries and uproar for a short time, as if a wrestling match were
going on in the hut, and the letter-carrier, an old woman, who was just
going by, even stood still in surprise and curiosity. The curiosity
was satisfied, for she soon saw the handsome Uhlan officer rush out,
pressing his hand to his cheek as if he had a violent toothache. He
looked very much dishevelled and made off with noticeable haste. He
did not appear in the tavern at noon, so in the afternoon his two
comrades sent their orderlies to him to enquire about his health; in
the evening he joined them at table and showed his astonished friends a
broad strip of black court-plaster on his right cheek.
"What does that mean?" asked the captain.
"It seems to be a bad cut," observed the lieutenant.
"Razor? sword-stroke? cat's claw?" continued the captain, pursuing his
enquiries.
"Woman's nails!" burst forth the Don Juan of the regiment, and now the
game of hide-and-seek between the trio ended, and they bewailed to one
another, with comic despair, the ill-luck they had all encountered.
She had courteously asked the captain to what she owed the honour of
his visit, and when, instead of answering, he pinched her plump cheek
and put his arm around her waist, she flew into a passion and pointed
to the door with the voice and gesture of an insulted queen. The
lieutenant had found her far more ungracious; she did not ask what he
desired, but angrily thundered, almost before he crossed the threshold,
an order to march which permitted neither remonstrance nor refusal;
finally, at the appearance of the first lieutenant, she had passed from
the position of defence to that of assault, shrieked at him with a
crimson face and flashing eyes to be off at once, if he valued the
smooth skin of his cheeks; and when, somewhat bewildered, yet not
wholly intimidated, he had ventured, notwithstanding this by no means
encouraging reception, to attempt to seize and embrace her, as he was
accustomed to do with the colonel's wife's maid, when, making eyes at
him in the ante-room, she whispered under her breath: "Let me go, or
I'll scream!" she rushed upon him literally like a wild-cat, and, in an
instant, so mauled him that he could neither hear nor see, and
considered himself fortunate to find his way out quickly. And when all
three heroes had finished their tragi-comic general confession, they
unanimously exclaimed: "The woman has the very devil in her!"
They would have learned this truth without being obliged to pass
through all sorts of experiences, if, instead of indulging in
self-complacent speculations concerning the possible combination of
circumstances which had united the beautiful woman to so ugly a man,
they had enquired about the cause of this remarkable phenomenon. They
would then have heard a strange tale which might have deterred them
from finding in Molnar's hideousness encouragement to pursue his wife
with gallantries.
CHAPTER II.
Yes, Molnar's wife had the devil in her, and it was her family
heritage. Her father, a poor cottager and day labourer, had been in
his youth one of the most notorious and boldest brawlers in the
neighborhood; even now, when prematurely aged and half-broken down by
want and hard work, people willingly avoided him and did not sit at the
same table in the tavern if it could be helped. In former years he had
been a frequent inmate of the county prison, where the bruises and cuts
received in the brawl on whose account he was incarcerated had time to
heal; two years before he had been in jail three months because he had
used a manure-fork to prevent a tax-collector from seizing his bed, and
the beautiful Panna had then gone to the capital once or twice a week
to carry him cheese, wine, bread, and underclothing, and otherwise make
his situation easier, so far as she could.
The family vice of sudden fits of passion had increased to a tragedy in
the destiny of the only son. He was a handsome fellow, slender as a
pine-tree, the image of his sister, whom he loved with a tenderness
very unusual among peasants; he early became the supporter and
companion of his father in his Sunday brawls, and the village was not
at all displeased when he was drafted into the army. It would have
been an easy matter, as he was an only son, to release him from
military service, but he was obliged to go because two fathers of
soldiers could not be found in the village to give the testimony
necessary for his liberation. He became a conscript in 1865, and, a
year after, the double war between Prussia and Italy broke out. The
young fellow's regiment was stationed in the Venetian provinces. One
night he was assigned to outpost duty in the field; the enemy was not
near, it was mid-summer, a sultry night, and the poor wretch fell
asleep. Unfortunately, the commander of the guard, a young lieutenant
full of over-zeal for the service, was inspecting the outposts and
discovered the sleeper, to whom he angrily gave a kick to recall him to
consciousness of his duty. The lad started up, and without hesitation
or reflection, dealt his assailant a furious blow in the face. There
was a great uproar, soldiers rushed forward, and had the utmost
difficulty in mastering the enraged young fellow; he was taken to
headquarters in irons, and, after a short trial by court-martial, shot
on the same day. The family did not learn the terrible news until
weeks later, from a dry official letter of the regimental commander.
How terrible was the grief of the father and sister! The man aged ten
years in a week, and the girl, at that time a child twelve years old,
became so pale and thin from sorrow that the neighbors thought she
would not survive it. Not survive it? What do we not outlive! She
conquered the anguish and developed into the most beautiful maiden in
the village.
There was an austere charm, an unintentional, unconscious attraction in
her, which won every one. Her notorious origin was not visited upon
her, and even the rich girls in the village gladly made her their
friend. While at work in the fields she sang in a ringing voice; in
the spinning-room, in winter, she was full of jests and merry tales, as
gay and gracious as beseemed her age. Probably on account of her
vivacious temperament and the feeling of vigour which robust health
bestows, she was extremely fond of dancing, and never failed on Sundays
to appear in the large courtyard of the tavern when, in the afternoon,
the whirling and stamping began. Her beauty would doubtless have made
her the most popular partner among the girls, had not the lads felt a
certain fear of her. A purring kitten among her girl companions, ready
to give and take practical jokes, she was all claws and teeth against
men, and many a bold youth who, after the dance, attempted to take the
usual liberties, met with so severe a rebuff that he bore for a week a
memento in the shape of a scratch across his whole face. Therefore she
did not have a superabundance of partners, and thus escaped the
jealousy which, otherwise, her charms would certainly have roused in
the other girls.
A dispensation of Providence rendered her irritability the means of
deciding the whole course of her life.
One Sunday, late in the summer, soon after the reaping and threshing
were over--she was then twenty--she again stood in the bright warm
afternoon sunshine in the spacious courtyard of the village tavern,
among a gay group of giggling lasses, waiting with joyful impatience
for the dancing to begin. The two village gipsies who made bricks
during the week and played on Sundays, were already there, leaning
against one of the wooden pillars of the porch in front of the house,
and tuning their fiddles. The lads crowded together, shouting jesting
remarks to the group of girls, who answered them promptly and to the
point. One after another the young men left their companions and took
from the laughing bevy of maidens a partner, who, as village custom
required, at first resisted, but finally yielded to the gentle
force--not without some pleasantly exciting struggling and pulling--and
was soon whirling around with her cavalier amid shouting and stamping,
till the dust rose in clouds.
The beautiful Panna, for reasons already known to us, was not the first
person invited to dance. But at last her turn came also, and she could
jump with a neighbour's son, till she was out of breath, to her heart's
content. After spending more than fifteen minutes in vigourous, rapid
motion, she finally sank, in happy exhaustion, upon a pile of bricks
near a coach-house which was being built, and with flaming cheeks and
panting bosom struggled for breath. Pista, the cartwright, profited by
the moment to approach, and with gay cries and gestures invite her to
dance again. Pista was a handsome fellow, but had the unfortunate
propensity of drinking on Sundays, and this time was evidently
intoxicated. The vinous suitor was not to Panna's taste, besides, she
was already tired, and she did not answer his first speech. But as he
did not desist, but seized her arm to drag her up and away by force,
she tartly answered that she would not dance now. This only made him
still more persistent.
"Why, why, you fierce little darling, do you suppose you can't be
mastered?" he cried, trying with both hands to seize her beautiful
black head to press a smack upon her lips. She thrust him back once,
twice, with a more and more violent shove, but he returned to the
attack, becoming ruder and more vehement. Then she lost her
self-control, and the choleric family blood suddenly seethed in her
veins. Bending down to the heap of bricks on which she had just sat,
she grasped a fragment and, with the speed of lightning, dealt her
persecutor a furious blow. Misfortune guided her hand, and she struck
him full in the face. Pista shrieked and staggered to the neighbouring
wall, against which he leaned half-fainting, while between the fingers
of the hands which he had raised to the wounded spot, the red blood
gushed in a horribly abundant stream.
All this had been the work of a moment, and the young people who filled
the courtyard did not notice the outrageous act until the mischief was
done. Shrieks, running hither and thither, and confusion followed.
The fiddlers stopped and stretched their necks, but prudently kept
aloof, as they had learned to do during frequent brawls; the girls
screamed and wrung their hands, the youths shouted hasty questions,
crowding around their bleeding companion. Water was quickly procured,
cold bandages were applied to the swollen, shapeless face, and other
efforts were made to relieve him, while at the same time he was
besieged with questions about the event.
After dealing the fatal blow Panna had stood for a moment deadly pale,
as if paralyzed, and then darted off as though pursued by fiends.
Perhaps this was fortunate, for she would have fared badly if the
enraged lads had had her in their power, when all, amid the confused
medley of outcries, had learned the truth. There was no time to pursue
her, for Pista seemed to be constantly growing worse; the cold water
and fomentations did not stop the bleeding; he soon lost consciousness
and lay on the ground amid the terrified, helpless group, an inert
mass, until some one made the sensible proposal to carry him home to
his mother, a poor widow, which, with their united strength, was
instantly done.
Meanwhile, Panna had rushed to her own home, locked herself in, and sat
on the bench by the stove, an image of grief and despair. She was
incapable of coherent thought, nothing but the spectacle of the
bleeding Pista staggering against the wall, stood distinctly before her
mind. But she could not give herself up to her desolate brooding long:
at the end of fifteen minutes the bolted door shook violently. She
started up and listened; it was her father, and she reluctantly went to
the door and opened it. The old man entered, shot the bolt behind him,
and asked in a trembling voice:
"For God's sake, child, what have you done?'"
Panna burst into a flood of tears; they were the first she had shed
since the incident described.
"He pressed upon me too boldly. And I didn't mean to do it. I only
wanted to keep him off."
"You were possessed. The devil is in us. To kill a man by a blow!"
The girl shrieked aloud. "Kill, do you say?"
"Sol was just told. They say he is dead."
"That is impossible, it's a lie," Panna murmured in a hollow tone,
while her face looked corpse-like. She seemed to cower into herself
and to grow smaller, as if the earth was swallowing her by inches. But
this condition lasted only a few minutes, then she roused herself and
hurried out, ere her father could detain her. She entered a narrow
path which ran behind the houses and was usually deserted, and raced as
fast as her feet would carry her to the hut occupied by Frau Molnar,
which was close at hand. Springing across the narrow ditch which
bordered the back of the yard, she hurried through the kitchen-garden
behind the house and in an instant was in the only room it contained
except the kitchen. On the bed lay a human form from which came a
groan, and beside it sat old Frau Molnar | 202.438944 | 913 |
2023-11-16 18:19:09.1674880 | 391 | 93 | The Project Gutenberg Etext Adventures of Harry Richmond, by Meredith, v3
#52 in our series by George Meredith
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Transcriber Notes
Obvious typos and punctuation errors corrected. Inconsistencies in
spelling and hyphenation left as in original.
In the original Table of Contents, the Humorous and Birthday Verses
chapters were listed with the correct page number, but out of order.
They have been put in the correct order.
The book advertisement at the end uses a right pointing hand character.
If the device font does not support this character, ☞, it may not
appear correctly.
Use of small capitals at the beginning of verses made consistent.
Small capitals have been converted to ALL CAPS.
Italic text is represented by underscores surrounding the _italic
text_.
Chapter headings in the original have a fancy font and decorative
characters. The decorative touches have been preserved in the text.
A decorative bar at the end of the Dedication Verses chapter is noted
in the text as [Decorative bar].
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE
ALBUM WRITER’S
FRIEND.
COMPRISING MORE THAN
THREE HUNDRED CHOICE SELECTIONS OF
POETRY AND PROSE,
SUITABLE FOR WRITING IN AUTOGRAPH ALBUMS, VALENTINES,
BIRTHDAY, CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR CARDS.
ORIGINAL AND SELECTED.
Our lives are albums, written through
With good or ill, with false or true,
And as the blessed angels turn the pages of our years,
God grant that they may read the good with smiles,
And blot the ill with tears.
COMPILED BY J. | 202.607016 | 915 |
2023-11-16 18:19:09.3845110 | 22 | 147 |
*Friedrich Nietzsche*
*I: The Case Of Wagner*
*II: | 202.703921 | 916 |
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Produced by Dagny and John Bickers
PHYLLIS OF PHILISTIA
By Frank Frankfort Moore
CHAPTER I.
AN ASTRONOMER WITHOUT A TELESCOPE.
"After all," said Mr. Ayrton, "what is marriage?"
"Ah!" sighed Phyllis. She knew that her father had become possessed of
a phrase, and that he was anxious to flutter it before her to see how it
went. He was a connoisseur in the bric-a-brac of phrases.
"Marriage means all your eggs in one basket," said he.
"Ah!" sighed Phyllis once more. She wondered if her father really
thought that she would be comforted in her great grief by a phrase. She
did not want to know how marriage might be defined. She knew that
all definitions are indefinite. She knew that in the case of marriage
everything depends upon the definer and the occasion.
"So you see there is no immediate cause to grieve, my dear," resumed her
father.
She did not quite see that this was the logical conclusion of the whole
matter; but that was possibly because she was born a woman, and felt
that marriage is to a woman what a keel is to a ship.
"I think there is a very good cause to grieve when we find a man like
George Holland turning deliberately round from truth to falsehood," said
Phyllis sternly.
"And what's worse, running a very good chance of losing his living,"
remarked the father. "Of course it will have to be proved that Moses and
Abraham and David and the rest of them were not what he says they
were; and it strikes me that all the bench of bishops, and a royal
commissioner or two thrown in, would have considerable difficulty in
doing that nowadays."
"What! You take his part, papa?" she cried, starting up. "You take his
part? You think I was wrong to tell him--what I did tell him?"
"I don't take his part, my dear," said Mr. Ayrton. "I think that he's a
bit of a fool to run his head into a hornet's nest because he has come
to the conclusion that Abraham's code of morality was a trifle shaky,
and that Samson was a shameless libertine. Great Heavens! has the man
got no notion of the perspective of history?"
"Perspective? History? It's the Bible, papa!"
Indignation was in Phyllis' eyes, but there was a reverential tone in
her voice. Her father looked at her--listened to her. In the pause he
thought:
"Good Heavens! What sort of a man is George Holland, who is ready to
relinquish the love and loveliness of that girl, simply because he
thinks poorly of the patriarchs?"
"He attacks the Bible, papa," resumed Phyllis gravely. "What horrible
things he said about Ruth!"
"Ah, yes, Ruth--the heroine of the harvest festival," said her father.
"Ah, he might have left us our Ruth. Besides, she was a woman. Heavens
above! is there no chivalry remaining among men?"
"Ah, if it was only chivalry! But--the Bible!"
"Quite so--the--yes, to be sure. But don't you think you may take the
Bible too seriously, Phyllis?"
"Oh, papa! too seriously?"
"Why not? That's George Holland's mistake, I fear. Why should he work
himself to a fury over the peccadillos of the patriarchs? The principle
of the statute of limitations should be applied to such cases. If the
world, and the colleges of theology, have dealt lightly with Samson and
David and Abraham and Jacob and the rest of them for some thousands of
years, why should George Holland rake up things against them, and that,
too, on very doubtful evidence? But I should be the last person in the
world to complain of the course which he has seen fit to adopt, since
it has left you with me a little longer, my dearest child. I did not,
of course, oppose your engagement, but I have often asked myself what I
should do without you? How should I ever work up my facts, or, what
is more important, my quotations, in your absence, Phyllis? On some
questions, my dear, you are a veritable Blue-book--yes, an _edition de
luxe_ of a Blue-book."
"And I meant to be so useful to him as well," said Phyllis, taking her
father's praises more demurely than she had taken his phrases. "I meant
to help him in his work."
"Ah, what a fool the man is! How could any man in his senses give up a
thing of flesh and blood like you, for the sake of proving or trying
to prove, that some people who lived five or six thousand years ago--if
they ever lived at all--would have rendered themselves liable to
imprisonment, without the option of a fine, if they lived in England
since the passing of certain laws--recent laws, too, we must remember!"
"Papa!"
"Anyhow, you have done with him, my dear. A man who can't see that crime
is really a question of temperament, and sin invariably a question of
geography--well, we'll say no more about it. At what hour did you say he
was coming?"
"Four. I don't think I shall break down."
"Break down? Why on earth should you break down? You have a mind to
know, and you know your own mind. That's everything. But of course
you've had no experience of matters of this sort. He was your first real
lover?"
| 203.035479 | 917 |
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FETICHISM IN WEST AFRICA
[Illustration: FETICH MAGICIAN. (With horns, wooden mask, spear, and
sword; dress of leaves of palm and plantain.)]
FETICHISM IN WEST AFRICA
_Forty Years' Observation of Native Customs
and Superstitions_
BY THE REV. ROBERT HAMILL NASSAU, M.D., S.T.D.
FOR FORTY YEARS A MISSIONARY IN THE GABUN DISTRICT
OF KONGO-FRANCAISE
AUTHOR OF "CROWNED IN PALM LAND," "MAWEDO"
WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS
YOUNG PEOPLE'S
MISSIONARY MOVEMENT
156 FIFTH AVENUE
NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1904_
BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published October, 1904
PREFACE
On the 2d of July, 1861, I sailed from New York City on a little brig, the
"Ocean Eagle," with destination to the island of Corisco, near the
equator, on the West Coast of Africa. My first introduction to the natives
of Africa was a month later, when the vessel stopped at Monrovia, the
capital of the Liberian Republic, to land a portion of its trade goods,
and at other ports of Liberia, Sinoe, and Cape Palmas; thence to Corisco
on September 12.
Corisco is a microcosm, only five miles long by three miles wide; its
surface diversified with every variety of landscape, proportioned to its
size, of hill, prairie, stream, and lake. It is located in the eye of the
elephant-head shaped Bay of Corisco, and from twelve to twenty miles
distant from the mainland. Into the bay flow two large rivers,--the Muni
(the Rio D'Angra of commerce) and the Munda (this latter representing the
elephant's proboscis).
The island, with adjacent mainland, was inhabited by the Benga tribe. It
was the headquarters of the American Presbyterian Mission. On the voyage I
had studied the Benga dialect with my fellow-passenger, the senior member
of the Mission, Rev. James L. Mackey; and was able, on my landing, to
converse so well with the natives that they at once enthusiastically
accepted me as an interested friend. This has ever since been my status
among all other tribes.
I lived four years on the island, as preacher, teacher, and itinerant to
the adjacent mainland, south to the Gabun River and its Mpongwe tribe,
east up the Muni and Munda rivers, and north to the Benito River.
In my study of the natives' language my attention was drawn closely to
their customs; and in my inquiry into their religion I at once saw how it
was bound up in these customs. I met with other white men--traders,
government officials, and even some missionaries--whose interest in
Africa, however deep, was circumscribed by their special work for,
respectively, wealth, power, and Gospel proclamation. They could see in
those customs only "folly," and in the religion only "superstition."
I read many books on other parts of Africa, in which the same customs and
religion prevailed. I did not think it reasonable to dismiss curtly as
absurd the cherished sentiments of so large a portion of the human race. I
asked myself: Is there no logical ground for the existence of these
sentiments, no philosophy behind all these beliefs? I began to search; and
thenceforward for thirty years, wherever I travelled, wherever I was guest
to native chief, wherever I lived, I was always leading the conversation,
in hut or camp, back to a study of the native thought.
I soon found that I gained nothing if I put my questions suddenly or
without mask. The natives generally were aware that white men despised
them and their beliefs, and they were slow to admit me to their thought if
I made a direct advance. But, by chatting as a friend, telling them the
strange and great things of my own country, and first eliciting their
trust in me and interest in my stories, they forgot their reticence, and
responded by telling me of their country. I listened, not critically, but
apparently as a believer; and then they vied with each other in telling me
all they knew and thought.
That has been the history of a thousand social chats,--in canoes by day,
in camp and hut by night, and at all hours in my own house, whose public
room was open at any hour of day or evening for any visitor, petitioner,
or lounger, my attention to whose wants or wishes was rewarded by some
confidence about their habits or doings.
In 1865 I was transferred to Benito, where I remained until the close of
1871. Those years were full of travels afoot or by boat, south the hundred
miles to Gabun, north toward the Batanga region, and east up the Benito
for a hundred miles as a pioneer, to the Balengi and Boheba tribes,--a
distance at that time unprecedented, considering the almost fierce
opposition of the coast people to any white man's going to the local
sources of their trade.
After more than ten uninterrupted years in Africa, I took a furlough of
more than two years in the United States, and returned to my work in 1874.
I responded to a strong demand on the part of the supporters of Foreign
Missions in Africa, that mission operations should no longer be confined
to the coast. Unsuccessful efforts had been made to enter by the Gabun, by
the Muni, and by the Benito.
On the 10th of September, 1874, I entered the Og | 203.082228 | 918 |
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HOMER MARTIN
A REMINISCENCE
[Illustration: HOMER MARTIN
From a photograph taken in England in 1892]
HOMER MARTIN
A REMINISCENCE
[Illustration]
OCTOBER 28, 1836—FEBRUARY 12, 1897
NEW YORK
WILLIAM MACBETH
1904
Copyright, 1904, by WILLIAM MACBETH
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
PORTRAIT OF HOMER MARTIN _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
NORMANDY TREES 6
THE DUNES 12
ON THE HUDSON 18 | 203.220448 | 919 |
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Transcriber's Note
Italics are indicated by _underscores_, and bold text by =equals= signs.
[Illustration: HENRY MAYHEW.
[_From a Daguerreotype by_ BEARD.]]
LONDON LABOUR
AND THE LONDON POOR
A Cyclopædia of the Condition and Earnings
OF
THOSE THAT _WILL_ WORK
THOSE THAT _CANNOT_ WORK, AND
THOSE THAT _WILL NOT_ WORK
BY
HENRY MAYHEW
THE LONDON STREET-FOLK
COMPRISING
STREET SELLERS · STREET BUYERS · STREET FINDERS
STREET PERFORMERS · STREET ARTIZANS · STREET LABOURERS
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
VOLUME ONE
First edition 1851
(_Volume One only and parts of Volumes Two and Three_)
Enlarged edition (Four volumes) 1861-62
New impression 1865
CONTENTS
OF
VOLUME I.
THE STREET-FOLK.
PAGE
WANDERING TRIBES IN GENERAL 1
WANDERING TRIBES IN THE COUNTRY 2
THE LONDON STREET-FOLK 3
COSTERMONGERS 4
STREET SELLERS OF FISH 61
STREET SELLERS OF FRUIT AND VEGETABLES 79
STATIONARY STREET SELLERS OF FISH, FRUIT, AND VEGETABLES 97
THE STREET IRISH 104
STREET SELLERS OF GAME, POULTRY, RABBITS, BUTTER, CHEESE, AND EGGS 120
STREET SELLERS OF TREES, SHRUBS, FLOWERS, ROOTS, SEEDS, AND BRANCHES 131
STREET SELLERS OF GREEN STUFF 145
STREET SELLERS OF EATABLES AND DRINKABLES 158
STREET SELLERS OF STATIONERY, LITERATURE, AND THE FINE ARTS 213
STREET SELLERS OF MANUFACTURED ARTICLES 323
THE WOMEN STREET SELLERS 457
THE CHILDREN STREET SELLERS 468
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
LONDON COSTERMONGER Page 13
THE COSTER GIRL „ 37
THE OYSTER STALL „ 49
THE ORANGE MART (DUKE’S PLACE) „ 73
THE IRISH STREET-SELLER „ 97
THE WALL-FLOWER GIRL „ 127
THE GROUNDSELL MAN „ 147
THE BAKED POTATO MAN „ 167
THE COFFEE STALL To face page 184
COSTER BOY AND GIRL “TOSSING THE PIEMAN” „ 196
DOCTOR BOKANKY, THE STREET-HERBALIST „ 206
THE LONG SONG SELLER „ 222
ILLUSTRATIONS OF STREET ART, NO. I. „ 224
„ „ NO. II. „ 238
THE HINDOO TRACT SELLER „ 242
THE “KITCHEN,” FOX COURT „ 251
ILLUSTRATIONS OF STREET ART, NO. III. „ 278
THE BOOK AUCTIONEER „ 296
THE STREET-SELLER OF NUTMEG-GRATERS „ 330
THE STREET-SELLER OF DOG-COLLARS „ 360
THE STREET-SELLER OF CROCKERYWARE „ 366
THE BLIND BOOT-LACE SELLER „ 406
THE STREET-SELLER OF GREASE-REMOVING COMPOSITION „ 428
THE LUCIFER-MATCH GIRL „ 432
THE STREET-SELLER OF WALKING-STICKS „ 438
THE STREET-SELLER OF RHUBARB AND SPICE „ 452
THE STREET-SELLER OF COMBS „ 458
PORTRAIT OF MR. MAYHEW To face the Title Page
PREFACE.
The present volume is the first of an intended series, which it is
hoped will form, when complete, a cyclopædia of the industry, the want,
and the vice of the great Metropolis.
It is believed that the book is curious for many reasons:
It surely may be considered curious as being the first attempt
to publish the history of a people, from the lips of the people
themselves--giving a literal description of their labour, their
earnings, their trials, and their suffer | 203.402532 | 920 |
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images generously made available by JSTOR www.jstor.org)
THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.
NUMBER 15. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1840. VOLUME I.
[Illustration: THE TOWN AND CASTLE OF LEIXLIP, COUNTY OF KILDARE.]
Localities are no less subject to the capricious mutations of fashion in
taste, than dress, music, or any other of the various objects on which
it displays its extravagant vagaries. The place which on account of its
beauties is at one period the chosen resort of pleased and admiring
crowds, at another becomes abandoned and unthought of, as if it were
an unsightly desert, unfit for the enjoyment or happiness of civilized
man. Some other locality, perhaps of less natural or acquired beauty,
becomes the fashion of the day, and after a time gets out of favour in
turn, and is neglected for some other novel scene before unthought of or
disregarded. Yet the principles of true taste are immutable, and that
which is really beautiful is not the less so because it has ceased to
attract the multitude, who are generally governed to a far greater extent
by accidental associations of ideas than by any abstract feelings of the
mind.
Perhaps it is less attributable to any characteristic volatility in the
character of the inhabitants of our metropolis, than to the singular
variety and number of the beautiful localities which surround our city,
and in emulous rivalry attract our attention, that this inconstancy
of attachment to any one locality is more strikingly instanced among
ourselves, than among the citizens of any other great town with which
we are acquainted. But, however this may be, the fact is unquestionable,
that there is scarcely a spot of any natural or improved beauty, within
a few miles of us, which has not in turn had its day of fashion, and its
subsequent period of unmerited neglect. Clontarf, with its sequestered
green lanes, and its glorious views of the bay--Glasnevin, the classical
abode of Addison, Parnell, Tickell, Sheridan, and Delany--Finglas,
with its rural sports--Chapelizod, the residence of the younger
Cromwell--Lucan, Leixlip, with their once celebrated spas, and all
the delightful epic scenery of the Liffey--Dundrum, with its healthy
mountain walks and atmosphere, and many others unnecessary to mention,
all experiencing the effects of this inconstancy of fashion, have found
their once admired beauties totally disregarded, and the admiration of
the multitude almost wholly transferred to a wild and unadorned beauty on
the rocky shores of Kingstown and Bullock, which our forefathers deemed
unworthy of notice. But let that beauty take warning from the fate of her
predecessors, and not hold her head too high in her day of triumph, for
she too will assuredly be cast off in turn, and find herself neglected
for some rival as yet unnoticed.
Of such unmerited inconstancy and neglect there are no localities in
the neighbourhood of Dublin which have greater reason to complain than
the village of Lucan and that which forms the subject of our prefixed
embellishment. As the establishment of peace in Ireland led to an
increase of civilization, which exhibited itself in improved roads and
vehicles of conveyance, and the citizens, emerging from their embattled
strongholds, ventured to enjoy the pleasures of nature and rural life,
Lucan and Leixlip, with the beautiful scenery in which they are situated,
became the favourite places of resort; and their various natural
attractions becoming heightened by art, were described by travellers,
and chaunted in song. About “sixty years since” they had reached their
greatest glory, and Leixlip was the favourite of the day. It is thus
described at this period by the celebrated Doctor Campbell:--“All the
outlets of Dublin are pleasant, but this is superlatively so which leads
through Leixlip, a neat little village about seven miles from Dublin, up
the Liffey; whose banks being prettily tufted with wood, and enlivened
by gentlemen’s seats, afford a variety of landscapes, beautiful beyond
description.” It was at this period also that O’Keefe, in his popular
opera of “The Poor Soldier,” makes Patrick sing--
“Though Leixlip is proud of its close shady bowers,
Its clear falling waters and murmuring | 203.523461 | 921 |
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produced from scanned images of public domain material
from the Google Print project.)
THE GNOSTIC CRUCIFIXION
WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
_Net._
THRICE GREATEST HERMES (3 vols.) 30/-
FRAGMENTS OF A FAITH FORGOTTEN 10/6
DID JESUS LIVE 100 B.C.? 9/-
THE WORLD-MYSTERY 5/-
THE GOSPEL AND THE GOSPELS 4/6
APOLLONIUS OF TYANA 3/6
THE UPANISHADS (2 vols.) 3/-
PLOTINUS 1/-
ECHOES FROM THE GNOSIS
BY G. R. S. MEAD
VOL. VII.
THE GNOSTIC CRUCIFIXION
THE THEOSOPHICAL PUBLISHING SOCIETY
LONDON AND BENARES
1907
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
ECHOES FROM THE GNOSIS.
Under this general title is now being published a series of small volumes,
drawn from, or based upon, the mystic, theosophic and gnostic writings of
the ancients, so as to make more easily audible for the ever-widening
circle of those who love such things, some echoes of the mystic
experiences and initiatory lore of their spiritual ancestry. There are
many who love the life of the spirit, and who long for the light of
gnostic illumination, but who are not sufficiently equipped to study the
writings of the ancients at first hand, or to follow unaided the labours
of scholars. These little volumes are therefore intended to serve as
introduction to the study of the more difficult literature of the subject;
and it is hoped that at the same time they may become for some, who have,
as yet, not even heard of the Gnosis, stepping-stones to higher things.
G. R. S. M.
THE GNOSTIC CRUCIFIXION
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE 9
THE VISION OF THE CROSS 12
COMMENTS 20
POSTCRIPT 69
TEXTS
Bonnet (M.), _Acta Apostolorum Apocrypha_ (Leipzig, 1898).
James (M. R.), _Apocrypha Anecdota, T. & S._, v. i. (Cambridge, 1897).
_F._ = _Fragments of a Faith Forgotten_, 2nd. ed. (London, 1906).
_H._ = _Thrice Greatest Hermes_ (London, 1906).
ECHOES FROM THE GNOSIS
VOL. I. THE GNOSIS OF THE MIND.
VOL. II. THE HYMNS OF HERMES.
VOL. III. THE VISION OF ARIDAEUS.
VOL. IV. THE HYMN OF JESUS.
VOL. V. THE MYSTERIES OF MITHRA.
VOL. VI. A MITHRIAC RITUAL.
VOL. VII. THE GNOSTIC CRUCIFIXION.
SOME PROPOSED SUBJECTS FOR FORTHCOMING VOLUMES
THE CHALDAEAN ORACLES.
THE HYMN OF THE PRODIGAL.
SOME ORPHIC FRAGMENTS.
THE GNOSTIC CRUCIFIXION.
PREFACE.
The Gnostic Mystery of the Crucifixion is most clearly set forth in the
new-found fragments of _The Acts of John_, and follows immediately on the
Sacred Dance and Ritual of Initiation which we endeavoured to elucidate in
Vol. IV. of these little books, in treating of _The Hymn of Jesus_.
The reader is, therefore, referred to the "Preamble" of that volume for a
short introduction concerning the nature of the Gnostic Acts in general
and of the Leucian _Acts of John_ in particular. I would, however, add a
point of interest bearing on the date which was forgotten, though I have
frequently remarked upon it when lecturing on the subject.
The strongest proof that we have in our fragment very early material is
found in the text itself, when it relates the following simple form of the
miracle of the loaves.
"Now if at any time He were invited by one of the Pharisees and went to
the bidding, we used to go with Him. And before each was set a single loaf
by the host; and of them He Himself also received one. Then He would give
thanks and divide His loaf among us; and from this little each had enough,
and our own loaves were saved whole, so that those who bade Him were
amazed."
If the marvellous narratives of the feeding of the five thousand had been
already in circulation, it is incredible that this simple story, which we
may so easily believe, should have been invented. Of what use, when the
minds of the hearers had been strung to the pitch of faith which had
already accepted the feeding of the five thousand as an actual physical
occurrence, would it have been to invent comparatively so small a wonder?
On the other hand, it is easy to believe that from similar simple stories
of the power of the Master, which were first of all circulated in the
inner circles, the popular narratives of the multitude-feeding miracles
could be developed. We, therefore, conclude, with every probability, that
we have here an indication of material of very early date.
Nevertheless when we come | 203.54773 | 922 |
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LADDIE
A TRUE BLUE STORY
by
GENE STRATTON PORTER
To
LEANDER ELLIOT STRATTON
"The Way to Be Happy Is to Be Good"
Contents
CHAPTER
I. Little Sister
II. Our Angel Boy
III. Mr. Pryor's Door
IV. The Last Day in Eden
V. The First Day of School
VI. The Wedding Gown
VII. When Sally Married Peter
VIII. The Shropshire and the Crusader
IX. "Even So"
X. Laddie Takes the Plunge
XI. Keeping Christmas Our Way
XII. The Horn of the Hunter
XIII. The Garden of the Lord
XIV. The Crest of Eastbrooke
XV. Laddie, the Princess, and the Pie
XVI. The Homing Pigeon
XVII. In Faith Believing
XVIII. The Pryor Mystery
LADDIE
CHARACTERS
LADDIE, Who Loved and Asked No Questions.
THE PRINCESS, From the House of Mystery.
LEON, Our Angel Child.
LITTLE SISTER, Who Tells What Happened.
MR. and MRS. STANTON, Who Faced Life Shoulder to Shoulder.
SALLY and PETER, Who Married Each Other.
ELIZABETH, SHELLEY, MAY and Other Stanton Children.
MR. and MRS. PRYOR, Father and Mother of the Princess.
ROBERT PAGET, a Chicago Lawyer.
MRS. FRESHETT, Who Offered Her Life for Her Friend.
CANDACE, the Cook.
MISS AMELIA | 203.751065 | 923 |
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOLUME 93.
SEPTEMBER 10, 1887.
* * * * *
STRANGE ADVENTURES OF ASCENA LUKINGLASSE.
(_By_ PHIL UPPES, _Author of "An Out-of-Luck Young Man," "Jack and Jill
went up the Hill," "The Bishop and his Grandmother," &c._)
ASCENA'S NARRATIVE.
THE story which I have to tell is more than strange. It is so terrible,
so incredible, so entirely contrary to all that any ordinary reader of
the | 203.776367 | 924 |
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OLIVER TWIST,
Or, The Parish Boy's Progress
By Charles Dickens
CONTENTS
I TREATS OF THE PLACE WHERE OLIVER TWIST WAS BORN AND OF THE
CIRCUMSTANCES ATTENDING HIS BIRTH
II TREATS OF OLIVER TWIST'S GROWTH, EDUCATION, AND BOARD
III RELATES HOW OLIVER TWIST WAS VERY NEAR GETTING A PLACE WHICH
WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN A SINECURE
IV OLIVER, BEING OFFERED ANOTHER PLACE, MAKES HIS FIRST ENTRY INTO
PUBLIC LIFE
V OLIVER MINGLES WITH NEW ASSOCIATES. GOING TO A FUNERAL FOR THE
FIRST TIME, HE FORMS AN UNFAVOURABLE NOTION OF HIS MASTER'S
BUSINESS
VI OLIVER, BEING GOADED BY THE TAUNTS OF NOAH, ROUSES INTO ACTION,
AND RATHER ASTONISHES HIM
VII OLIVER CONTINUES REFRACTORY
VIII OLIVER WALKS TO LONDON. HE ENCOUNTERS ON THE ROAD A STRANGE
SORT OF YOUNG GENTLEMAN
IX CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT OLD
GENTLEMAN, AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS
X OLIVER BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE CHARACTERS OF HIS NEW
ASSOCIATES; AND PURCHASES EXPERIENCE AT A HIGH PRICE. BEING A
SHORT, BUT VERY IMPORTANT CHAPTER, IN THIS HISTORY
XI TREATS OF MR. FANG THE POLICE MAGISTRATE; AND FURNISHES A
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BART KEENE'S
HUNTING DAYS
Or
The Darewell Chums
in a Winter Camp
BY
ALLEN CHAPMAN
AUTHOR OF "BART STIRLING'S ROAD TO SUCCESS," "WORKING
HARD TO WIN," "BOUND TO SUCCEED," "THE YOUNG
STOREKEEPER," "NAT BORDEN'S FIND," ETC.
[Illustration:
_The_
GOLDSMITH
_Publishing Co._
CLEVELAND OHIO
MADE IN U.S.A.]
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A MIDNIGHT EXPEDITION 1
II. THE MISSING DIAMOND BRACELET 8
III. A FRUITLESS SEARCH 24
IV. IN THE SHOOTING GALLERY 35
V. AN INITIATION 49
VI. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 57
VII. GETTING READY FOR CAMP 67
VIII. AN ODD LETTER 77
IX. OFF TO CAMP 84
X. A RAILROAD ACCIDENT 91
XI. PUTTING UP THE TENTS 97
XII. THE PLACE OF THE TURTLES 106
XIII. THE MUD VOLCANO 111
XIV. BART'S FIRST SHOT 119
XV. FENN FALLS IN 125
XVI. FRANK MAKES PANCAKES 132
XVII. TREED BY A WILDCAT 141
XVIII. THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AGAIN 153
XIX. LOST IN THE WOODS 160
XX. A NIGHT OF MISERY 167
XXI. UNEXPECTED HELP 173
XXII. CHRISTMAS IN CAMP 179
XXIII. FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW 187
XXIV. A SHOT IN TIME 193
XXV. NED'S RABBIT TRAP 200
XXVI. A VISIT TO TOWN 206
XXVII. THE MAN WITH THE TURTLE 212
XXVIII. THE PURSUIT 217
XXIX. BART'S BEST SHOT 227
XXX. THE DIAMOND BRACELET--CONCLUSION 232
BART KEENE'S HUNTING DAYS
CHAPTER I
A MIDNIGHT EXPEDITION
"Hold on there! Go easy, now, fellows," cautioned Bart Keene to his two
chums, as they stole softly along in the darkness. "What are you making
all that racket for, Ned?"
"It wasn't me; it was Frank."
"I couldn't help it," came from Frank Roscoe in a whisper. "I stumbled
on a stone."
"Well, don't do it again," retorted Bart. "First thing you know some one
will hear us, and the jig will be up."
"And then we can't play the joke on Stumpy," added Ned Wilding.
"Of course not," went on Bart. "Easy now. Come on. Keep behind me in a
line, and walk in the shadows as much as possible. We're almost there."
The three lads bent upon playing a peculiar trick on their chum, Fenn,
or "Stumpy" Masterson, kept on toward the Darewell High School, at which
they were students. The building set well back from the street, and the
campus in front was now flooded with brilliant moonlight. It was close
to midnight, and to approach the institution unobserved, to take from it
certain objects, and to steal away without having been noticed, was the
object of the three conspirators.
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"If this country cannot be saved without giving up the principle of
Liberty, I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on this
spot than surrender it."
_From Mr. Lincoln's Speech at Independence Hall, Philadelphia,
February 21, 1861._
"I believe this Government cannot endure permanently half slave and
half free."
_Springfield, Illinois, June, 1858._
"I am exceedingly anxious that this Union, the Constitution, and
the liberties of the people shall be perpetuated in accordance with
the original idea for which the Revolution was made."
_Trenton, New Jersey, February 21, 1861._
"Having thus chosen our course, without guile and with pure
purpose, let us renew our trust in God, and go forward without fear
and with manly hearts."
_Message, July 5, 1861._
"In giving freedom to the slaves, we assure freedom to the free;
honorable alike in what we give and what we preserve."
_Message, December 1, 1862._
"I hope peace will come soon, and come to stay; and so come as to
be worth the keeping in all future time."
_Springfield Letter, August 26, 1863._
"The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here;
but it can never forget what the brave men, living and dead, did
here."
_Speech at Gettysburg, November 19, 1863._
"I shall not attempt to retract or modify the Emancipation
Proclamation, nor shall I return to slavery any person who is
free by the terms of that proclamation, or by any of the Acts of
Congress."
_Amnesty Proclamation, December 8, 1863._
"I claim not to have controlled events, but confess plainly that
events have controlled me."
_Letter to A. G. Hodges, April 4, 1864._
"With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in
the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to
finish the work we are in."
_Last Inaugural, March 4, 1865._
[Illustration]
LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN,
SIXTEENTH PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
CONTAINING
HIS EARLY HISTORY AND POLITICAL CAREER; TOGETHER
WITH THE SPEECHES, MESSAGES, PROCLAMATIONS AND
OTHER OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS ILLUSTRATIVE OF
HIS EVENTFUL ADMINISTRATION.
BY FRANK CROSBY,
MEMBER OF THE PHILADELPHIA BAR.
"LET ALL THE ENDS THOU AIM'ST AT BE THY COUNTRY'S,
THY GOD'S AND TRUTH'S; THEN IF THOU FALL'ST
THOU FALL'ST A BLESSED MARTYR."
NEW YORK
INTERNATIONAL BOOK COMPANY
310-318 SIXTH AVENUE
DEDICATED
TO THE GOOD AND TRUE
OF THE NATION
REDEEMED--REGENERATED--DISENTHRALLED.
PREFACE.
An attempt has been made in the following pages to portray Abraham
Lincoln, mainly in his relations to the country at large during his
eventful administration.
With this view, it has not been deemed necessary to cumber the work
with the minute details of his life prior to that time. This period
has, therefore, been but glanced at, with a care to present enough to
make a connected whole. His Congressional career and his campaign with
Senator Douglas are presented in outline, yet so, it is believed, that
a clear idea of these incidents in his life can be obtained.
After the time of his election as President, however, a different
course of treatment has been pursued. Thenceforward, to the close of
his life, especial pains have been taken to present everything which
should show him as he was--the Statesman persistent, resolute, free
from boasting or ostentation, destitute of hate, never exultant,
guarded in his prophecies, threatening none at home or abroad,
indulging in no utopian dreams of a blissful future, moving quietly,
calmly, conscientiously, irresistibly on to the end he saw with
clearest vision.
Yet, even in what is presented as a complete record of his
administration, too much must not be expected. It is impossible, for
example, to thoroughly dissect the events of the great Rebellion in
a work like the present. Nothing of the kind has been attempted. The
prominent features only have been sketched; and that solely for the
purpose of bringing into the distinct foreground him whose life is
under consideration.
Various Speeches, Proclamations, and Letters, not vitally essential
to the unity of the main body of the work, yet valuable as affording
illustrations of the man--have been collected in the Appendix.
Imperfect as this portraiture must necessarily be, there is one
conciliatory thought. The subject needs no embellishment. It furnishes
its own setting. The acts of the man speak for themselves. Only such an
arrangement is needed as shall show the bearing of each upon the other,
the development of each, the processes of growth.
Those words of the lamented dead which nestle in our hearts so
tenderly--they call for no explanation. Potent, searching, taking hold
of our consciences, they will remain with us while reason lasts.
Nor will the people's interest be but for the moment. The baptism of
blood to which the Nation has been called, cannot be forgotten for
generations. And while memories of him abide, there will inevitably be
associated with them the placid, quiet face, not devoid of mirth--its
patient, anxious, yet withal hopeful expression--the sure, elastic
step--the clearly cut, sharply defined speech of him, who, under
Providence, was to lead us through the trial and anguish of those
bitter days to the rest and refreshing of a peace, whose dawn only,
alas! he was to see.
Though this work may not rise to the height required, it is hoped that
it is not utterly unworthy of the subject. Such as it is--a labor of
love--it is offered to those who loved and labored with the patriot
and hero, with the earnest desire that it may not be regarded an
unwarrantable intrusion upon ground on which any might hesitate to
venture.
F. C.
_Philadelphia, June, 1865._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
BOYHOOD AND EARLY MANHOOD.
Preliminary--Birth of Abraham Lincoln--Removal from Kentucky--At
Work--Self Education--Personal Characteristics--Another Removal
--Trip to New Orleans--Becomes Clerk--Black Hawk War--Engages in
Politics--Successive Elections to the Legislature--Anti-Slavery
Protest--Commences Practice as a Lawyer--Traits of Character--
Marriage--Return to Politics--Election to Congress 13
CHAPTER II.
IN CONGRESS AND ON THE STUMP.
The Mexican War--Internal Improvements--Slavery in the
District of Columbia--Public Lands--Retires to Private Life--
Kansas-Nebraska Bill--Withdraws in Favor of Senator Trumbull--
Formation of Republican Party--Nominated for U. S. Senator--
Opening Speech of Mr. Lincoln--Douglas Campaign--The Canvass--
Tribute to the Declaration of Independence--Result of the Contest 19
CHAPTER III.
BEFORE THE NATION.
Speeches in Ohio--Extract from the Cincinnati Speech--Visits
the East--Celebrated Speech at the Cooper Institute, New
York--Interesting Incident 34
CHAPTER IV.
NOMINATED AND ELECTED PRESIDENT.
The Republican National Convention--Democratic Convention--
Constitutional Union Convention--Ballotings at Chicago--
The Result--Enthusiastic Reception--Visit to Springfield--
Address and Letter of Acceptance--The Campaign--Result
of the Election--South Carolina's Movements--Buchanan's
Pusillanimity--Secession of States--Confederate Constitution--
Peace Convention--Constitutional Amendments--Terms of the Rebels 60
CHAPTER V.
TO WASHINGTON.
The Departure--Farewell Remarks--Speech at Toledo--At
Indianapolis--At Cincinnati--At Columbus--At Steubenville--
At Pittsburgh--At Cleveland--At Buffalo--At Albany--At
Poughkeepsie--At New York--At Trenton--At Philadelphia--At
"Independence Hall"--Flag Raising--Speech at Harrisburg--
Secret Departure for Washington--Comments 67
CHAPTER VI.
THE NEW ADMINISTRATION.
Speeches at Washington--The Inaugural Address--Its Effect--
The Cabinet--Commissioners from Montgomery--Extracts from A.
H. Stephens' Speech--Virginia Commissioners--Fall of Fort
Sumter 90
CHAPTER VII.
PREPARING FOR WAR.
Effects of Sumter's Fall--President's Call for Troops--
Response in the Loyal States--In the Border States--Baltimore
Riots--Maryland's Position--President's Letter to Maryland
Authorities--Blockade Proclamation--Additional Proclamation--
Comments Abroad--Second Call for Troops--Special Order for
Florida--Military Movements 108
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FIRST SESSION OF CONGRESS.
Opening of Congress--President's First Message--Its Nature--
Action of Congress--Resolution Declaring the Object of the
War--Bull Run--Its Effect 117
CHAPTER IX.
CLOSE OF 1861.
Election of the Rebels--Davis' Boast--McClellan appointed
Commander of Potomac Army--Proclamation of a National Fast--
Intercourse with Rebels Forbidden--Fugitive Slaves--Gen.
Butler's Views--Gen. McClellan's Letter from Secretary
Cameron--Act of August 6th, 1861--Gen. Fremont's Order--
Letter of the President Modifying the Same--Instructions to
Gen. Sherman--Ball's Bluff--Gen. Scott's Retirement--Army of
the Potomac 137
CHAPTER X.
THE CONGRESS OF 1861-62.
The Military Situation--Seizure of Mason and Slidell--
Opposition to the Administration--President's Message--
Financial Legislation--Committee on the Conduct of the War--
Confiscation Bill 148
CHAPTER XI.
THE SLAVERY QUESTION.
Situation of the President--His Policy--Gradual Emancipation--
Message--Abolition of Slavery in the District of Columbia--
Repudiation of Gen. Hunter's Emancipation Order--Conference with
Congressmen from the Border Slave States--Address to the Same--
Military Order--Proclamation under the Conscription Act 171
CHAPTER XII.
THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN.
President's War Order--Reason for the Same--Results in West
and South-west--Army of the Potomac--Presidential Orders--
Letter to McClellan--Order for Army Corps--The Issue of the
Campaign--Unfortunate Circumstances--President's Speech
at Union Meeting--Comments--Operations in Virginia and
Maryland--In the West and South-west 181
CHAPTER XIII.
FREEDOM TO MILLIONS.
Tribune Editorial--Letter to Mr. Greeley--Announcement of the
Emancipation Proclamation--Suspension of the _Habeas Corpus_
in certain Cases--Order for Observance of the Sabbath--The
Emancipation Proclamation 190
CHAPTER XIV.
LAST SESSION OF THE THIRTY-SEVENTH CONGRESS.
Situation of the Country--Opposition to the Administration--
President's Message 199
CHAPTER XV.
THE TIDE TURNED.
Military Successes--Favorable Elections--Emancipation Policy--
Letter to Manchester (Eng.) Workingmen--Proclamation for a
National Fast--Letter to Erastus Corning--Letter to a Committee
on Recalling Vallandigham 226
CHAPTER XVI.
LETTERS AND SPEECHES.
Speech at Washington--Letter to Gen. Grant--Thanksgiving
Proclamation--Letter Concerning the Emancipation Proclamation--
Proclamation for Annual Thanksgiving--Dedicatory Speech at
Gettysburg 242
CHAPTER XVII.
THE THIRTY-EIGHTH CONGRESS.
Organization of the House--Different Opinions as to
Reconstruction--Provisions for Pardon of Rebels--President's
Proclamation of Pardon--Annual Message--Explanatory
Proclamation 263
CHAPTER XVIII.
PROGRESS.
President's Speech at Washington--Speech to a New York
Committee--Speech in Baltimore--Letter to a Kentuckian--
Employment of <DW52> Troops--Davis' Threat--General Order--
President's Order on the Subject 275
CHAPTER XIX.
RENOMINATED.
Lieut. Gen. Grant--His Military Record--Continued Movements--
Correspondence with the President--Across the Rapidan--
Richmond Invested--President's Letter to a Grant Meeting--
Meeting of Republican National Convention--The Platform--
The Nomination--Mr. Lincoln's Reply to the Committee of
Notification--Remarks to Union League Committee--Speech at a
Serenade--Speech to Ohio Troops 285
CHAPTER XX.
RECONSTRUCTION.
President's Speech at Philadelphia--Philadelphia Fair--
Correspondence with Committee of National Convention--
Proclamation of Martial Law in Kentucky--Question of
Reconstruction--President's Proclamation on the Subject--
Congressional Plan 298
CHAPTER XXI.
PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF 1864.
Proclamation for a Fast--Speech to Soldiers--Another Speech--
"To Whom it may Concern"--Chicago Convention--Opposition
Embarrassed--Resolution No. 2--McClellan's Acceptance--
Capture of the Mobile Forts and Atlanta--Proclamation for
Thanksgiving--Remarks on Employment of <DW64> Soldiers--
Address to Loyal Marylanders 314
CHAPTER XXII.
RE-ELECTED
Presidential Campaign of 1864--Fremont's Withdrawal--Wade
and Davis--Peace and War Democrats--Rebel Sympathizers--
October Election--Result of Presidential Election--Speech to
Pennsylvanians--Speech at a Serenade--Letter to a Soldier's
Mother--Opening of Congress--Last Annual Message 325
CHAPTER XXIII.
TIGHTENING THE LINES.
Speech at a Serenade--Reply to a Presentation Address--Peace
Rumors--Rebel Commissioners--Instructions to Secretary
Seward--The Conference in Hampton Roads--Result--Extra
Session of the Senate--Military Situation--Sherman--
Charleston--Columbia--Wilmington--Fort Fisher--Sheridan--
Grant--Rebel Congress--Second Inauguration--Inaugural--
English Comment--Proclamation to Deserters 350
CHAPTER XXIV.
IN RICHMOND.
President Visits City Point--Lee's Failure--Grant's Movement--
Abraham Lincoln in Richmond--Lee's Surrender--President's
Impromptu Speech--Speech on Reconstruction--Proclamation Closing
Certain Ports--Proclamation Relative to Maritime Rights--
Supplementary Proclamation--Orders from the War Department--
The Traitor President 362
CHAPTER XXV.
THE LAST ACT.
Interview with Mr. Colfax--Cabinet Meeting--Incident--
Evening Conversation--Possibility of Assassination--Leaves
for the Theatre--In the Theatre--Precautions for the
Murder--The Pistol Shot--Escape of the Assassin--Death of
the President--Pledges Redeemed--Situation of the Country--
Effect of the Murder--Obsequies at Washington--Borne Home--
Grief of the People--At Rest 374
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MAN.
Reasons for His Re-election--What was Accomplished--Leaning on
the People--State Papers--His Tenacity of Purpose--Washington
and Lincoln--As a Man--Favorite Poem--Autobiography--His Modesty
--A Christian--Conclusion 382
APPENDIX.
Mr. Lincoln's Speeches in Congress and Elsewhere, Proclamations,
Letters, etc., not included in the Body of the Work.
Speech on the Mexican War, (In Congress, Jan. 12, 1848) 391
Speech on Internal Improvements, (In Congress, June 20, 1848)
403
Speech on the Presidency and General Politics, (In Congress,
July 27, 1848) 417
Speech in Reply to Mr. Douglas, on Kansas, the Dred Scott
Decision, and the Utah Question, (At Springfield, June 26,
1857) 431
Speech in Reply to Senator Douglas, (At Chicago, July 10, 1858) 442
Opening Passages of his Speech at Freeport 459
Letter to Gen. McClellan 464
Letter to Gen. Schofield Relative to the Removal of Gen. Curtis 466
Three Hundred Thousand Men Called For 466
Rev. Dr. McPheeters--President's Reply to an Appeal for
Interference 468
An Election Ordered in the State of Arkansas 470
Letter to William Fishback on the Election in Arkansas 471
Call for Five Hundred Thousand Men 471
Letter to Mrs. Gurney 473
The Tennessee Test Oath 474
LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
CHAPTER I.
BOYHOOD AND EARLY MANHOOD.
Preliminary--Birth of Abraham Lincoln--Removal from Kentucky--
At Work--Self Education--Personal Characteristics--Another
Removal--Trip to New Orleans--Becomes Clerk--Black Hawk War--
Engages in Politics--Successive Elections to the Legislature--
Anti-Slavery Protest--Commences Practice as a Lawyer | 204.319808 | 927 |
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THE BROKEN FONT
A STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF "TALES OF THE WARS OF OUR TIMES,"
"RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PENINSULA," &c. &c. &c.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1836.
THE BROKEN FONT.
CHAPTER I.
And now, good morrow to our waking soules,
Which watch not one another out of feare.
DONNE.
The noble spirit of Katharine Heywood was severely exercised by those
disclosures of Jane Lambert which have been related in a former
chapter.
She regretted, too late, that she had ever asked that true-hearted
girl to perform an office so difficult in itself, and which had
proved, in its consequences, so hazardous to her reputation and her
peace. The chance of such a misfortune as that which had befallen Jane
never remotely presented itself to her mind at the moment when she
made the request, yet she could not but feel compunction as she
reflected on the trouble to which the generous constancy of a delicate
mind had subjected her affectionate friend. One slight reparation was
in her power. It became her plain duty to undeceive the mind of Juxon
on the subject; and the thought that she should be thus instrumental
in bringing together two fine characters, formed for each other, made
all selfish considerations about her own sorrow, and every pang which
her maidenly pride must suffer, vanish before that proper resolution.
No opportunity of speaking in private with Juxon occurred on the
evening of Jane's disclosure to Katharine, nor did any offer itself
until the arrival of her young cousin Arthur from Oxford. It was a
mournful trial to Katharine to observe the high and joyous spirits of
the ardent youth, as he embraced and thanked Sir Oliver for acceding
to his request. The silent house became suddenly full of cheerful
echoes as the brave boy passed to and fro on its oaken staircase and
along the pleasant gallery, singing snatches of loyal songs, or making
his spurs jingle as he ran. All his preparations for the solemn work
of war were made with a light heart, and with little or no
consideration that fellow-countrymen were to be his enemies. Such
little sympathy as the boy once felt for the tortured Prynne existed
no longer for any one of that party, which he had learned to look upon
as traitors.
One would have thought that he was volunteering in a foreign
expedition, by his gay-hearted alacrity in getting ready.
"Cousin Kate," said he, turning towards her as they sat at breakfast
in the hall, "you must make us a couple of King's rosettes,--and I
hope you have both of you," he added, looking at Jane Lambert, "nearly
finished embroidering the small standard for our troop:--you have
laughed at me, and called me boy, Jane; but when I bring you back your
own embroidery, stained with the blood of traitors, you shall reward
me as a man."
"I am not so very blood-thirsty, Arthur," said Jane Lambert, "as to
wish it shed to do honour to my embroidery; and if I see you come
safe back with your sword bright and a peace branch in your hand, I
will tell a fib for you, and call you a man before your beard comes.
Now don't frown--it does not become your smooth face:--when all is
over, you shall play the part of a lady in the first court masque, and
shall wear my rose- gown."
"Why, Jane," said Sir Oliver, "what is come to you, girl? It was but
five minutes ago that I saw you with your kerchief at your eyes,
looking as sad as though you were sitting at a funeral; and now thou
mockest poor Arthur, as if he were a vain boaster, instead of a
gallant boy, as thou well knowest.--Never mind her, Arthur: she is a
true woman, and teazes those most whom she loves the best. She will
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OXFORD
THE ILLUSTRATIONS IN THIS VOLUME WERE ENGRAVED AND PRINTED BY THE
CARL HENTSCHEL COLOURTYPE, LTD.
[Illustration: THE CLARENDON BUILDING, BROAD STREET
It is the Roman Doric portico of the “Building” we see rising in the
centre of the picture, surmounted by a huge leaden figure, forming one
of the _acroteria_ of the pediment.
This noble piece of architecture was erected from the proceeds of the
sale of copies of Lord Clarendon’s _History of the Rebellion_, completed
in 1713.
Looking west, on the right are some old houses, beyond which lie Trinity
and Balliol Colleges.]
OXFORD · PAINTED
BY JOHN FULLEYLOVE R.I.
DESCRIBED BY EDWARD
THOMAS · PUBLISHED BY
A. & C. BLACK · LONDON · W
_Published November 1903_
Prefatory Note
Most of these chapters have been filled by a brief search into my
recollections of Oxford. They aim, therefore, at recording my own
impressions as faithfully as the resultant stir of fancy would allow.
But I am also deeply and obviously indebted to several books, and in
particular to the histories of Oxford by Parker, Maxwell Lyte, and
Boase; to Mr. F. E. Robinson’s series of College Histories; to
_Reminiscences of Oxford_ and its companion volumes | 204.93911 | 929 |
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THE WRECK
ON
THE ANDAMANS:
BEING
A NARRATIVE OF THE VERY REMARKABLE PRESERVATION,
AND ULTIMATE DELIVERANCE, OF THE SOLDIERS
AND SEAMEN, WHO FORMED THE SHIPS' COMPANIES OF
THE RUNNYMEDE AND BRITON TROOP-SHIPS, BOTH
WRECKED ON THE MORNING OF THE 12TH OF NOVEMBER,
1844, UPON ONE OF THE ANDAMAN ISLANDS, IN
THE BAY OF BENGAL.
_TAKEN FROM AUTHENTIC DOCUMENTS_
BY
JOSEPH DARVALL, Esq.
_At the request of_
CAPT. CHARLES INGRAM, AND CAPT. HENRY JOHN HALL,
_Owners of the Runnymede._
"The dangers of the sea,
All the cares and all the fears,
When the stormy winds do blow."
(_Song._)
LONDON: PELHAM RICHARDSON, 23, CORNHILL.
1845.
PELHAM RICHARDSON, PRINTER, 23, CORNHILL.
PREFACE.
The Author, owing to circumstances, has had access to authentic
documents and facts, relating to one of the most remarkable shipwrecks
which have ever happened, that of the troop-ships Runnymede and
Briton, on the morning of the 12th | 205.177341 | 930 |
2023-11-16 18:19:12.1322310 | 1,165 | 411 | The Project Gutenberg Etext of Wolfville Days, by Alfred Henry Lewis
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Title: Wolfville Days
Author: Alfred Henry Lewis
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free to ask to check the status of your state | 205.451641 | 931 |
2023-11-16 18:19:12.1792540 | 1,262 | 373 |
Produced by Brian Coe, Graeme Mackreth and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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INSTRUCTIONS
FOR OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED
OFFICERS OF CAVALRY,
ON
OUTPOST DUTY;
BY
LIEUT.-COLONEL VON ARENTSCHILDT,
First Hussars King's German Legion:
WITH
AN ABRIDGMENT OF THEM
BY
LIEUT.-COLONEL THE HON. F. PONSONBY,
Twelfth Light Dragoons.
J.W. RANDOLPH:
121 MAIN STREET, RICHMOND, VA.
1861.
THIS
VALUABLE DIGEST
OF
INSTRUCTIONS FOR OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED
OFFICERS OF CAVALRY ON OUTPOST DUTY,
IS REPRINTED FROM THE LONDON EDITION
BY ORDER OF
BRIG'R GENERAL PHILIP ST. GEO. COCKE,
WHILST COMMANDING POTOMAC MILITARY DEPARTMENT
OF VIRGINIA,
AND DEDICATED BY HIM TO
CAPTAIN LAY AND HIS "POWHATAN TROOP"
OF CAVALRY.
* * * * *
THIS DIGEST IS EARNESTLY COMMENDED TO THE ATTENTION
OF THE OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS
OF CAVALRY OF VIRGINIA, AND OF THE
CONFEDERATE STATES.
OUTPOST DUTY.
I.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED
OFFICERS:
BY LIEUT.-COLONEL VON ARENTSCHILDT.
II.
AN ABRIDGMENT OF THE SAME:
BY LIEUTENANT-COLONEL THE HON. F. PONSONBY.
LIEUTENANT-COLONEL VON ARENTSCHILDT'S
INSTRUCTIONS ON
OUTPOST DUTY.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR OFFICERS AND NON-COMMISSIONED OFFICERS ON OUTPOST
DUTY.
I. ON THE CONDUCT TO BE HELD BY AN OFFICER, OR NON-COMMISSIONED
OFFICER, ON PICQUET.
SECTION I. PARADING THE PICQUET.
The Commanding Officer of a Picquet, as soon as the same has been
given up to him, should take care to have the names of his men written
down, as well as the Regiment and Troop they belong to; inspect their
ammunition and fire arms; and order them to load. He likewise should
inquire if the men are provided with provisions and forage, and in
case they are not, it must be reported to the Regiment, in order that
supplies may be sent after them. Inquiries are likewise to be made
where the reports are to be sent to.
SECTION II.
MARCHING FOR HIS DESTINATION.
On the march to the spot where the Picquet is to be placed, the
Officer must pay great attention in examining the country, and
particularly observe the places where he would make a stand in case
the Picquet should be attacked by the Enemy: for instance, behind a
bridge, a ravine, between bogs, &c., in order to keep off the enemy as
long as possible. This is of the utmost importance to give the Corps
time to turn out. The Commander of a Picquet who retires with his
men at full speed, and the Enemy at his heels, deserves the severest
punishment; he must retire as slow as possible, and constantly
skirmish.
SECTION III.
IF NO PICQUET WAS ON THE SPOT BEFORE.
_By Day._
Being arrived at the spot chosen by himself, or pointed out to him,
he forms his Picquet, and takes out as many men as he thinks he has
occasion for as Videttes. To fix upon the number of Videttes, is
much facilitated by riding on the top of a hill, and observing the
number of roads and hills in front. With these Videttes he goes on,
and places them in such a manner that every one of them is able to
see individually what is coming towards the Picquet, as well as the
neighbouring Videttes. The remainder of the Picquet dismounts in the
mean time, with the exception of one Sentry, who is to be placed a
little in advance. The bridles are not to be taken off. In placing
the Videttes the Officer will have acquired a sufficient knowledge of
the country to be able to judge whether any of them are superfluous,
(which is much to be avoided, as men and horses are unnecessarily
fatigued by it,) or whether there ought to be more. Two-thirds of
the Picquet now unbridle: it is to be recollected that the whole of
a Picquet should never unbridle. The Officer then reconnoitres the
country. Every one ambitious to do his duty well will make a little
sketch, in which the following are to be marked;
1. Roads; 2. Rivers; 3. Bridges and Fords; 4. Morasses, cavities,
hollow roads, and mountains; 5. Wood; 6. Towns, Villages and their
distances.
If the Officer does not acquire such an exact knowledge of the
country, he cannot be responsible for the security of his Picquet, and
of the corps to which he belongs.
By this time he will have had opportunity to fix upon the spot where
his Picquet and Videttes ought to be placed at night.
_By Night._
It is | 205.498664 | 932 |
2023-11-16 18:19:12.3721030 | 1,216 | 421 |
Credit
Transcribed from the 1914 Burns & Oates edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
SHELLEY: AN ESSAY
The Church, which was once the mother of poets no less than of saints,
during the last two centuries has relinquished to aliens the chief
glories of poetry, if the chief glories of holiness she has preserved for
her own. The palm and the laurel, Dominic and Dante, sanctity and song,
grew together in her soil: she has retained the palm, but forgone the
laurel. Poetry in its widest sense, {1} and when not professedly
irreligious, has been too much and too long among many Catholics either
misprised or distrusted; too much and too generally the feeling has been
that it is at best superfluous, at worst pernicious, most often
dangerous. Once poetry was, as she should be, the lesser sister and
helpmate of the Church; the minister to the mind, as the Church to the
soul. But poetry sinned, poetry fell; and, in place of lovingly
reclaiming her, Catholicism cast her from the door to follow the feet of
her pagan seducer. The separation has been ill for poetry; it has not
been well for religion.
Fathers of the Church (we would say), pastors of the Church, pious laics
of the Church: you are taking from its walls the panoply of Aquinas--take
also from its walls the psaltery of Alighieri. Unroll the precedents of
the Church's past; recall to your minds that Francis of Assisi was among
the precursors of Dante; that sworn to Poverty he forswore not Beauty,
but discerned through the lamp Beauty the Light God; that he was even
more a poet in his miracles than in his melody; that poetry clung round
the cowls of his Order. Follow his footsteps; you who have blessings for
men, have you no blessing for the birds? Recall to your memory that, in
their minor kind, the love poems of Dante shed no less honour on
Catholicism than did the great religious poem which is itself pivoted on
love; that in singing of heaven he sang of Beatrice--this supporting
angel was still carven on his harp even when he stirred its strings in
Paradise. What you theoretically know, vividly realise: that with many
the religion of beauty must always be a passion and a power, that it is
only evil when divorced from the worship of the Primal Beauty. Poetry is
the preacher to men of the earthly as you of the Heavenly Fairness; of
that earthly fairness which God has fashioned to His own image and
likeness. You proclaim the day which the Lord has made, and Poetry
exults and rejoices in it. You praise the Creator for His works, and she
shows you that they are very good. Beware how you misprise this potent
ally, for hers is the art of Giotto and Dante: beware how you misprise
this insidious foe, for hers is the art of modern France and of Byron.
Her value, if you know it not, God knows, and know the enemies of God. If
you have no room for her beneath the wings of the Holy One, there is
place for her beneath the webs of the Evil One: whom you discard, he
embraces; whom you cast down from an honourable seat, he will advance to
a haughty throne; the brows you dislaurel of a just respect, he will bind
with baleful splendours; the stone which you builders reject, he will
make his head of the corner. May she not prophesy in the temple? then
there is ready for her the tripod of Delphi. Eye her not askance if she
seldom sing directly of religion: the bird gives glory to God though it
sings only of its innocent loves. Suspicion creates its own cause;
distrust begets reason for distrust. This beautiful, wild, feline
Poetry, wild because left to range the wilds, restore to the hearth of
your charity, shelter under the rafter of your Faith; discipline her to
the sweet restraints of your household, feed her with the meat from your
table, soften her with the amity of your children; tame her, fondle her,
cherish her--you will no longer then need to flee her. Suffer her to
wanton, suffer her to play, so she play round the foot of the Cross!
There is a change of late years: the Wanderer is being called to her
Father's house, but we would have the call yet louder, we would have the
proffered welcome more unstinted. There are still stray remnants of the
old intolerant distrust. It is still possible for even a French
historian of the Church to enumerate among the articles cast upon
Savonarola's famous pile, _poesies erotiques, tant des anciens que des
modernes, livres impies ou corrupteurs, Ovide, Tibulle, Properce, pour ne
nommer que les plus connus, Dante, Petrarque, Boccace, tous ces auteurs
Italiens qui deja souillaient les ames et ruinaient les moeurs, en creant
ou perfectionnant la langue_. {2} Blameworthy carelessness at the least,
which can class the _Vita Nuova_ with the _Ars A | 205.691513 | 933 |
2023-11-16 18:19:12.4218740 | 237 | 14 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed
Proofreaders
A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL
by Ian Maclaren
Book III.
A FIGHT WITH DEATH
PREFACE
It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the
edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by
Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there
are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my
friends.
One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was
there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as
William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one
man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy
also across the sea.
It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one
of whom was without his faults--Weelum was not perfect--but who, each
one, might have sat for my hero. Three | 205.741284 | 934 |
2023-11-16 18:19:12.4527050 | 91 | 24 |
This eBook was produced by Andrew Sly.
THE BRITISH NORTH AMERICA ACT, 1867.
30 VICTORIA, CHAPTER 3.
An Act for the Union of Canada, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick,
and the Government thereof; and for Purposes connected therewith.
[29th March, 1867.]
Whereas the Provinces of Canada, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick have
expressed their | 205.772115 | 935 |
2023-11-16 18:19:12.4574690 | 1,196 | 385 |
Produced by Simon Gardner, Sankar Viswanathan, Adrian
Mastronardi, The Philatelic Digital Library Project at
http://www.tpdlp.net, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
GAMBIA
BY
FRED J. MELVILLE,
PRESIDENT OF THE JUNIOR
PHILATELIC SOCIETY.
MDCCCCIX--PUBLISHED--BY--THE
MELVILLE--STAMP--BOOKS,
47,--STRAND,--LONDON,--W.C.
* * * * *
[page 7]
INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
In collecting the stamps of Gambia one cannot too strongly emphasise
the necessity for guarding the stamps of the "Cameo" series against
deterioration by the pressure of the leaves in an ordinary unprotected
album. In their pristine state with clear and bold embossing these
stamps are of exceptional grace and beauty. Sunk mounts or other
similar contrivances, and a liberal use of tissue paper, should be
utilised by the collector who desires to retain his specimens in their
original state. A neat strip of card affixed to each side of the page
in an ordinary album will have the effect of keeping the pages above
from flattening out the embossing, but tissue paper should be used as
an additional safeguard.
We have to express thanks to Mr. Douglas Ellis, Vice-President of the
Junior Philatelic Society, for his notes on the postmarks--of which
he has made a special study--and also for the loan of his entire
collection of the stamps of Gambia for reference and illustration;
to Mr. H. H. Harland for a similar courtesy in the loan of his
collection; to Mr. W. H. Peckitt for the loan of stamps for
illustration; to Mr. D. B. Armstrong for interesting notes on
the postal affairs of the Colony; and to Mr. S. R. Turner for his
diagrams.
To the first two gentlemen we are also indebted for their kindness in
undertaking the revision of the proofs of this handbook.
[page 8]
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE, 7
CHAPTER I.
THE COLONY AND ITS POSTS, 11
CHAPTER II.
CAMEO ISSUE OF 1869, 16
CHAPTER III.
ISSUE OF 1874, 20
CHAPTER IV.
ISSUE OF 1880, 25
CHAPTER V.
ISSUE OF 1886-87, 37
CHAPTER VI.
QUEEN'S HEAD SERIES, 1898, 45
CHAPTER VII.
KING'S HEAD SERIES, 1902-1906, 50
CHAPTER VIII.
PROVISIONAL ISSUE, 1906, 53
CHAPTER IX.
BIBLIOGRAPHY, 56
CHAPTER X.
CHECK LIST, 58
APPENDIX.
NOTES ON THE POSTMARKS, by Douglas Ellis, 66
[page 11]
GAMBIA.
CHAPTER I.
The Colony and Its Posts.
The British West African possession known as the Colony and
Protectorate of the Gambia occupies a narrow strip of territory
(averaging 12 miles in width) on both sides of the Gambia river.
The territory comprises the settlement of St. Mary, where the
capital--Bathurst--is situated, British Cambo, Albreda, M'Carthy's
Island and the Ceded Mile, a protectorate over a narrow band of land
extending from Cape St. Mary for over 250 miles along both banks of
the river.
The Gambia river was discovered by a Portuguese navigator in 1447;
under a charter of Queen Elizabeth a company was formed to trade with
the Gambia in 1588. In the reign of James II. a fort was erected by
British traders at the mouth of the river (1686), and for many years
their only traffic was in slaves. The territory became recognised as a
British possession under the Treaty of Versailles, and on the enforced
liquidation of the chartered company it [page 12] was incorporated
with the Crown as one of the West African settlements. Until 1843,
when it was granted separate government, it was administered by the
Governor of Sierra Leone. In 1868 it was again annexed to Sierra
Leone, and not until twenty years later was it created a separate
Crown Colony with a Governor and responsible government of its own. At
present the staple trade of the Colony is ground nuts, but efforts are
being made to induce the natives to take up other products.
Postally there is little to record prior to 1866, which is the date
ascribed by Mr. F. Bisset Archer, Treasurer and Postmaster-General,
to an alteration in the scale of postage, the half ounce weight for
letters being introduced. The rate to Great Britain was, we believe,
from that date 6d. per half ounce.
Mr. Archer also gives this year (1866) as the date when the first
postage stamps of the Colony were issued. This date was for a time
accepted in the stamp catalogues, but it is now generally believed to
be an error, the earliest records in the stamp journals of the period
shewing the date to be 1869.
The postal notices we have been able to trace are of but little
interest, the following being all that | 205.776879 | 936 |
2023-11-16 18:19:12.6651930 | 1,116 | 411 |
Produced by Camille Bernard & Marc D'Hooghe at
http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made
available by the Hathi Trust.)
THE TREASURE OF PEARLS
A Romance of Adventures in California
BY
GUSTAVE AIMARD
AUTHOR OF "RED TRACK," "ADVENTURERS," "PEARL OF THE ANDES"
"TRAIL HUNTER," "PIRATES OF THE PRAIRIE," &C, &C.
LONDON: J. and R. MAXWELL
MILTON HOUSE, 4, SHOE LANE E. C.
GEORGE VICKERS, ANGEL COURT, STRAND
AND ALL BOOKSELLERS
(From the Collected Works 1863-1885)
CONTENTS.
I. THE PIECES AND THE BOARD
II. ENVY NO MAN HIS GRAVE
III. THE PIRATE'S BEQUEST
IV. A DESERT MYSTERY
V. THE GODSEND
VI. ANY PORT IN A STORM
VII. A WAKING NIGHTMARE
VIII. "THE LITTLE JOKER"
IX. THE WAY LAYERS
X. THE PEARL DIVER'S PRICE
XI. THE TWO CAPTAINS OF THE "GOLETA"
XII. THE ROUT COMPLETE
XIII. INTERVENTION
XIV. THE HAUL OF MILLIONS
XV. THE PATHFINDER'S HONOUR
XVI. A HAVEN WORSE THAN THE STORM
XVII. THE PUREST OF PEARLS
XVIII. OUT AND AWAY
XIX. THE OLD, OLD FRIENDS
XX. THE ANGELITO
XXI. THE LANCERS' CHARGE
XXII. THE PACT OF BLOOD
XXIII. CANNON IS BROUGHT TO BEAR
XXIV. THE UNWILLING VOLUNTEER
XXV. THE LOYALTY OF THE APACHE
XXVI. THE HARVEST OF THE KNIFE
XXVII. THE TRUE CABALLERO
XXVIII. THE BEST BAIT TO CATCH APACHES
THE TREASURE OF PEARLS
CHAPTER I.
THE PIECES AND THE BOARD.
We stand on Mexican soil. We are on the seaward skirt of its
westernmost State of Sonora, in the wild lands almost washed by the
Californian Gulf, which will be the formidable last ditch of the
unconquerable red men flying before the Star of the Empire.
Before us, the immensity of land; behind us, that of the Pacific Ocean.
O immeasurable stretches of verdure which form the ever-unknown
territory, the poetically entitled Far West, grand and attractive,
sweet and terrible, the natural trellis of so rich, beautiful, mighty,
and unkempt flora, that India has none of more vigour of production!
To an aeronaut's glance, these green and yellow plains would offer only
a vast carpet embroidered with dazzling flowers and foliage, almost as
gay and multicoloured, irregularly blocked out like the pieces of glass
in ancient church windows with the lead, by rivers torrential in the
wet season, rugged hollows of glistening quicksands and neck-deep mud
in summer, all of which blend with an unexampled brilliant azure on the
clear horizon.
It is only gradually, after the view has become inured to the
fascinating landscape, that it can make out the details: hills not to
be scorned for altitude, steep banks of rivers, and a thousand other
unforeseen impediments for the wretch fleeing from hostile animals or
fellow beings, which agreeably spoil the somewhat saddening sameness,
and are hidden completely from the general glance by the rank grass,
rich canes, and gigantic flower stalks.
Oh, for the time--the reader would find the patience--to enumerate
the charming products of this primitive nature, which shoots up and
athwart, hangs, swings, juts out, crosses, interlaces, binds, twines,
catches, encircles, and strays at random to the end of the naturalist's
investigation, describing majestic parabolas, forming grandiose
arcades, and finally completes the most splendid, aye, and sublime
spectacle that is given to any man on the footstool to admire for
superabundant contrasts, and enthralling harmonies.
The man in the balloon whom we imagine to be hovering over this mighty
picture, even higher up than the eagle of the Sierra Madre itself, who
sails in long circles above the bald-headed vulture about to descend on
a prey, which the king of the air disdains--this lofty viewer, we say,
would spy, on the afternoon when we guide the reader to these wilds
apparently unpeopled, more than one human creature wriggling like worms
in the labyrinth.
At one point some twenty men, white and yet swarthy, unlike in dress
but similarly armed to the teeth, were separately "worming" their
tortuous | 205.984603 | 937 |
2023-11-16 18:19:12.9197430 | 1,102 | 427 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Christian
Boissonnas and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net
BIRDS AND ALL NATURE.
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.
VOL. V. FEBRUARY, 1899. NO. 2
CONTENTS.
Page
GINGER. 49
SAP ACTION. 54
EMERSON AND THE WOODPECKER STORY. 56
THE CRAB-EATING OPOSSUM. 59
WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN. 60
THE GEOGRAPHIC TURTLE. 62
NOSES. 65
THE WHITE IBIS. 71
THE HELPLESS. 72
FEBRUARY. 73
THE IRIS. 74
THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 74
THE PEACOCK. 77
OWLS. 78
THE DUCK MOLE. 80
THE HIBERNATION OF ANIMALS. 84
THE CAPE MAY WARBLER. 86
SNOWFLAKES. 89
A TIMELY WARNING. 89
A WINDOW STUDY. 90
FIVE LITTLE WOODMEN. 91
THE COCOA-NUT. 95
THE BLACK WALNUT AND BUTTERNUT. 96
THE EDIBLE PINE. 96
GINGER.
_Zingiber officinale Roscoe._
DR. ALBERT SCHNEIDER, Northwestern University School of Pharmacy.
"And ginger shall be hot i' the mouth, too."
--_Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, II., 3._
The well-known spice ginger is the underground stem (_rhizome_) of an
herbaceous reed-like plant known as _Zingiber officinale_. The rhizome
is perennial, but the leaf and flower-bearing stems are annual. The
stems are from three to six feet high. The leaves of the upper part
of the stem are sword-shaped; the lower leaves are rudimentary and
sheath-like. The flowers occur in the form of conical spikes borne upon
the apex of stems which bear only sheath-like leaves.
The ginger plant is said to be a native of southern Asia, although it
is now rarely found growing wild. It is very extensively cultivated in
the tropical countries of both hemispheres, particularly in southern
China, India, Africa, and Jamaica. The word ginger is said to have
been derived from the Greek "Zingiber," which again was derived from
the Arabian "Zindschabil," which means the "root from India." It is
further stated that the word was derived from Gingi, a country west of
Pondecheri where the plant is said to grow wild.
True ginger must not be confounded with "wild ginger," which is a small
herbaceous plant (_Asarum canadense_) of the United States. The long,
slender rhizomes of _Asarum_ have a pungent, aromatic taste similar to
ginger. According to popular belief this plant has a peculiar charm.
Friends provided with the leaves are enabled to converse with each
other, though many miles apart and speaking in the faintest whisper.
The early Greeks and Romans made extensive use of ginger as a spice
and as a medicine. During the third century it was apparently a very
costly spice, but during the eleventh century it became cheaper, owing
to extensive cultivation, and was quite generally used in Europe.
Dioscrides and Plinius maintained that this spice was derived chiefly
from Arabia. The noted traveler and historian, Marco Polo (1280-1290)
is said to have been the first European who saw the wild-growing plant
in its home in India. As early as the thirteenth century a considerable
number of varieties of ginger were under cultivation, which received
distinctive names as Beledi, Colombino, Gebeli, Deli, etc., usually
named after the country or locality from which it was obtained.
At the present time Jamaica supplies the United States with nearly all
of the ginger, and this island is, therefore, known as "the land of
ginger." Cochin-China and Africa also yield much ginger. In Jamaica
the process of cultivation is somewhat as follows: During March and
April portions of rhizomes, each bearing an "eye" (bud), are placed
in furrows about one foot apart and covered with a few inches of soil.
The lazy planter leaves portions of the rhizomes in the soil from year
to year so as to avoid the necessity of planting, such ginger being
known as "ratoon ginger" in contradistinction to the "plant ginger."
The planted ginger soon sprouts, sending up shoots which require
much sunlight and rain, both of which are plentiful in Jamaica. The
field should be kept free from weeds which is not generally done for
several reasons. | 206.239153 | 938 |
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MUD AND KHAKI
MUD AND KHAKI
SKETCHES FROM FLANDERS
AND FRANCE
BY
VERNON BARTLETT
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON,
KENT & CO. LTD., 4 STATIONERS'
HALL COURT : : LONDON, E.C.
_Copyright_
_First published April 1917_
TO
R.V.K.C.
AND MY OTHER FRIENDS
IN THE REGIMENT
APOLOGIA
There has been so much written about the trenches, there are so many war
photographs, so many cinema films, that one might well hesitate before
even mentioning the war--to try to write a book about it is, I fear, to
incur the censure of the many who are tired of hearing about bombs and
bullets, and who prefer to read of peace, and games, and flirtations.
But, for that very reason, I venture to think that even so indifferent a
war book as mine will not come entirely amiss. When the Lean Years are
over, when the rifle becomes rusty, and the khaki is pushed away in some
remote cupboard, there is great danger that the hardships of the men in
the trenches will too soon be forgotten. If, to a minute extent,
anything in these pages should help to bring home to people what war
really is, and to remind them of their debt of gratitude, then these
little sketches will have justified their existence.
Besides, I am not entirely responsible for this little book. Not long
ago, I met a man--fit, single, and young--who began to grumble to me of
the hardships of his "funkhole" in England, and, incidentally, to
belittle the hardships of the man at the front. After I had told him
exactly what I | 206.433234 | 939 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
ROBINSON CRUSOE'S MONEY;
Or, the
Remarkable Financial Fortunes and Misfortunes
of a Remote Island Community.
By
DAVID A. WELLS,
Late U. S. Special Commissioner of Revenue.
"It requires a great deal of
philosophy to observe once
what may be seen every day."
--Rousseau.
New York:
Harper & Brothers, Publishers,
Franklin Square.
1876.
PREFACE.
The origin of this little book is as follows: Some months ago, the
expediency was suggested to the author, by certain prominent friends
of hard money in this country, of preparing for popular reading--and
possibly for political campaign purposes--a little tract, or essay,
in which the elementary principles underlying the important subjects
of money and currency should be presented and illustrated from the
simplest A B C stand-point. That such a work was desirable, and that
none of the very great number of speeches and essays already published
on these topics in all respects answered the existing requirement,
was admitted; but how to invest subjects, so often discussed, and so
commonly regarded as dry and abstract, with sufficient new interest
to render them at once attractive and intelligible to those whose
tastes disincline them to close reasoning and investigation, was a
matter not easy to determine.
At last the old idea--recognized in fables, allegories, and
parables--of making a story the medium for communicating instruction,
suggested itself; and, in accordance with the suggestion, a remote
island community | 206.850773 | 940 |
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
SERVANTS OF THE GUNS
BY
JEFFERY E. JEFFERY
_By the ears and the eyes and the brain,
By the limbs and the hands and the wings,
We are slaves to our masters the guns,
But their slaves are the masters of kings!_
GILBERT FRANKAU.
LONDON SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE
1917
[_All rights reserved_]
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED LONDON AND BECCLES,
ENGLAND
_TO
ONE WHO KNOWS NOTHING OF GUNS
BUT MUCH OF LIFE
MY MOTHER_
CONTENTS
PART I
THE NEW "UBIQUE"
BEGINNING AGAIN
A BATTERY IN BEING
"IN THE LINE"
SPIT AND POLISH
A BATTLE
PART II
AND THE OLD
BILFRED
"THE PROGRESS OF PICKERSDYKE"
SNATTY
FIVE-FOUR-EIGHT
PART III
IN ENEMY HANDS
SOME EXPERIENCES OF A PRISONER OF WAR
HENRY
PART I
THE NEW "UBIQUE"
BEGINNING AGAIN
As the long troop train rumbled slowly over the water-logged wastes of
Flanders, I sat in the corner of a carriage which was littered with all
the _debris_ of a twenty-four hours' journey and watched the fiery
winter's sun set gorgeously. It | 207.100736 | 941 |
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E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, David Wilson, and Project Gutenberg
Distributed Proofreaders
THE WOLF'S LONG HOWL
by Stanley Waterloo
1899
CONTENTS
THE WOLF'S LONG HOWL
AN ULM
THE HAIR OF THE DOG THAT BIT HIM
THE MAN WHO FELL IN LOVE
A TRAGEDY OF THE FOREST
THE PARASANGS
LOVE AND A TRIANGLE
AN EASTER ADMISSION
PROFESSOR MORGAN'S MOON
RED DOG'S SHOW WINDOW
MARKHAM'S EXPERIENCE
THE RED REVENGER
A MURDERER'S ACCOMPLICE
A MID-PACIFIC FOURTH
LOVE AND A LATCH-KEY
CHRISTMAS 200,000 B.C.
THE CHILD
THE BABY AND THE BEAR
AT THE GREEN TREE CLUB
THE RAIN-MAKER
WITHIN ONE LIFE'S SPAN
THE WOLF'S LONG HOWL
George Henry Harrison, though without living near kinfolk, had never
considered himself alone in the world. Up to the time when he became
thirty years of age he had always thought himself, when he thought of
the matter at all, as fortunate in the extent of his friendships. He was
acquainted with a great many people; he had a recognized social
standing, was somewhat cleverer than the average man, and his instincts,
while refined by education and experience, were decidedly gregarious and
toward hearty companionship. He should have been a happy man, and had
been one, in fact, up to the time when this trustworthy account begins;
but just now, despite his natural buoyancy of spirit, he did not count
himself among the blessed.
George Henry wanted to be at peace with all the world, and now there
were obstacles in the way. He did not delight in aggressiveness, yet
certain people were aggressive. In his club--which he felt he must soon
abandon--he received from all save a minority of the members a hearty
reception, and in his club he rather enjoyed himself for the hour,
forgetting that conditions were different outside. On the streets he met
men who bowed to him somewhat stiffly, and met others who recognized him
plainly enough, but who did not bow. The postman brought daily a bunch
of letters, addressed in various forms of stern commercial handwriting
to George Henry Harrison, but these often lay unopened and neglected on
his desk.
To tell the plain and unpleasant truth, George Henry Harrison had just
become a poor man, a desperately poor man, and already realized that it
was worse for a young man than an old one to rank among those who have
"seen better days." Even after his money had disappeared in what had
promised to be a good investment, he had for a time maintained his
place, because, unfortunately for all concerned, he had been enabled to
get credit; but there is an end to that sort of thing, and now, with his
credit gone after his money, he felt his particular world slipping from
him. He felt a change in himself, a certain on-creeping paralysis of his
social backbone. When practicable he avoided certain of his old friends,
for he could see too plainly written on their faces the fear that he was
about to request a trifling loan, though already his sense of honor,
when he considered his prospects, had forced him to cease asking favors
of the sort. There were faces which he had loved well which he could not
bear to see with the look of mingled commiseration and annoyance he
inspired.
And so it came that at this time George Henry Harrison was acquainted
chiefly with grief--with the wolf at his door. His mail, once blossoming
with messages of good-will and friendliness, became a desert of duns.
"Why is it," George Henry would occasionally ask himself--there was no
one else for him to talk to--"why is it that when a man is sure of his
meals every day he has endless invitations to dine out, but that when
those events are matters of uncertainty he gets not a bidding to the
feast?" This question, not a new one, baffling in its mystery and
chilling to the marrow, George Henry classed with another he had heard
somewhere: "Who is more happy: the hungry man who can get nothing to
eat, or the rich man with an overladen table who can eat nothing?" The
two problems ran together in his mind, like a couple of hounds in leash,
during many a long night when he could not shut out from his ears the
howling of the wolf. He often wondered, jeering the while at his own
grotesque fancy, how his neighbors could sleep with those mournful yet
sinister howlings burdening the air, but he became convinced at last
that no one heard the melancholy solo but himself.
"'The wolf's long howl on Oonalaska's shore' is not in it with that of
mine," said George Henry--for since his coat had become threadbare his
language had deteriorated, | 207.601926 | 942 |
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by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
[Illustration: THE ADOPTED CHILD.
_It was now Anna's turn to support her father. page 139_]
THE ADOPTED DAUGHTER,
A TALE FOR
YOUNG PERSONS.
BY MISS SANDHAM,
_Author of "The Twin Sisters," "William Selwyn," and many
other Approved Works._
"You took me up a tender flower."
_SECOND EDITION._
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR J. HARRIS AND SON,
ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD.
1822.
LONDON
PRINTED BY COX AND BAYLIS,
GREAT QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS.
PREFACE.
The following tale is intended to shew what people ought to be, rather
than what they are; as there are few, possessing Mrs. Meridith's
fortune, who have an inclination to dispose of it in the manner she is
represented to have done. Indeed, the characters here introduced are too
near perfection to be met with in real life, yet the Author hopes that
her young readers will receive instruction, as well as amusement, in
perusing it.
Some of the incidents may have been before introduced in works of the
same kind; though she is not aware of plagiarism, or borrowing from
other authors, and as she has endeavoured to pourtray those smaller
delineations of character which often escape a general observer, she
hopes many of the ideas will be found to be new; and that the present
work will not lesson the favour which her former publications has so
abundantly met with; and which she holds in grateful estimation.
THE ADOPTED DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER I.
"You took me up a tender flower."
Mrs. Meridith was the heiress of two considerable estates, one of which
was in Sussex, on which she was born, and where, at the commencement
of this history, she came to reside: her earliest and happiest days of
childhood had been spent in the village adjoining, where she was nursed
by a respectable farmer's wife, having had the misfortune to lose her
mother, who died in bringing her into the world. Various sorrows,
and the loss of an affectionate husband very early in life, made Mrs.
Meridith prefer the quiet scenes of the country to the glitter of
dissipation, or the more uniform amusements of a provincial town; and
on entering Rosewood, the name of her estate, she hoped to lose the
remembrance of her distresses, which had hitherto heavily oppressed her,
in endeavouring to alleviate those of her tenants and the neighbouring
poor. Her father, Mr. Woodville, was a great fox-hunter, and on the
death of his wife, which he did not feel so keenly as might be expected
from the amiable character she possessed, earnestly entreated Mrs.
Campbell, who was the wife of his favourite tenant, to take charge of
the helpless infant. He could have wished she had been a boy, as she
was his only child; "yet," said he, "she must be taken care of, though
a female, and I will not injure the fortune to which she will be
entitled; and by and by, when she is old enough, I shall be glad to see
her at the head of my table;" but while she was a baby, he thought if
he entrusted her to a careful nurse, such as he was sure Mrs. Campbell
would be, it was all that could be required of him. Nor was he desirous
of having her in his own house, but perfectly satisfied that she should
be removed to the farm, where he could see her as often as he wished.
He frequently called on his return from the chace, and repeated his
thanks to Mrs. Campbell for her kind attention to his child, earnestly
requesting her not to want any thing which his house afforded; but Mr.
and Mrs. Campbell were above want, and possessed every comfort which
their moderate wishes required, so that, except the allotted stipend
which Mr. Woodville engaged to pay, she sought no other recompence, and
seldom went to Rosewood, but when its owner was confined by accident or
ill | 207.666322 | 943 |
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available by the Internet Archive.)
THE RED AND THE BLACK
A Chronicle of 1830
BY
STENDHAL
TRANSLATED BY HORACE B. SAMUEL, M.A.,
Late Scholar Corpus Christi College, Oxford
LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & Co., LTD
NEW YORK: E.P. DUTTON AND CO.
1916
INTRODUCTION
Some slight sketch of the life and character of Stendhal is
particularly necessary to an understanding of _Le Rouge et Le Noir_
(_The Red and the Black_) not so much as being the formal stuffing of
which introductions are made, but because the book as a book stands
in the most intimate relation to the author's life and character. The
hero, Julien, is no doubt, viewed superficially, a cad, a scoundrel,
an assassin, albeit a person who will alternate the moist eye of the
sentimentalist with the ferocious grin of the beast of prey. But
Stendhal so far from putting forward any excuses makes a specific point
of wallowing defiantly in his own alleged wickedness. "Even assuming
that Julien is a villain and that it is my portrait," he wrote shortly
after the publication of the book, "why quarrel with me. In the time of
the Emperor, Julien would have passed for a very honest man. I lived in
the time of the Emperor. So--but what does it matter?"
Henri Beyle was born in 1783 in Grenoble in Dauphiny, the son of a
royalist lawyer, situated on the borderland between the gentry and
that bourgeoisie which our author was subsequently to chastise with
that malice peculiar to those who spring themselves from the class
which they despise. The boy's character was a compound of sensibility
and hard rebelliousness, virility and introspection. Orphaned of his
mother at the age of seven, hated by his father and unpopular with his
schoolmates, he spent the orthodox unhappy childhood of the artistic
temperament. Winning a scholarship at the Ecole Polytechnique at
the age of sixteen he proceeded to Paris, where with characteristic
independence he refused to attend the college classes and set himself
to study privately in his solitary rooms.
In 1800 the influence of his relative M. Daru procured him a commission
in the French Army, and the Marengo campaign gave him an opportunity
of practising that Napoleonic worship to which throughout his life he
remained consistently faithful, for the operation of the philosophical
materialism of the French sceptics on an essentially logical and
mathematical mind soon swept away all competing claimants for his
religious adoration. Almost from his childhood, moreover, he had
abominated the Jesuits, and "Papism is the source of all crimes," was
throughout his life one of his favourite maxims.
After the army's triumphant entry into Milan, Beyle returned to
Grenoble on furlough, whence he dashed off to Paris in pursuit of
a young woman to whom he was paying some attention, resigned his
commission in the army and set himself to study "with the view of
becoming a great man." It is in this period that we find the most
marked development in Beyle's enthusiasm of psychology. This tendency
sprang primarily no doubt from his own introspection. For throughout
his life Beyle enjoyed the indisputable and at times dubious luxury
of a double consciousness. He invariably carried inside his brain
a psychological mirror which reflected every phrase of his emotion
with scientific accuracy. And simultaneously, the critical spirit,
half-genie, half-demon inside his brain, would survey in the
semi-detached mood of a keenly interested spectator, the actual emotion
itself, applaud or condemn it as the case might be, and ticket the
verdict with ample commentations in the psychological register of its
own analysis.
But this trend to psychology, while as we have seen, to some extent,
the natural development of mere self-analysis was also tinged with the
spirit of self-preservation. With a mind, which in spite of its natural
physical courage was morbidly susceptible to ridicule and was only too
frequently the dupe of the fear of being duped, Stendhal would scent
an enemy in every friend, and as a mere matter of self-protection set
himself to penetrate the secret of every character with which he came
into contact. One is also justified | 207.677184 | 944 |
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Precaution.
A Novel.
By J. Fenimore Cooper.
"Be wise to-day. It is madness to defer; To-morrow's caution may arrive
too late."
W. C. Bryant's Discourse on the Life, Genius, and Writings of James
Fenimore Cooper, Delivered at Metropolitan Hall, N.Y., February 25,
1852.
It is now somewhat more than a year, since the friends of James Fenimore
Cooper, in this city; were planning to give a public dinner to his
honor. It was intended as an expression both of the regard they bore him
personally, and of the pride they took in the glory his writings had
reflected on the American name. We thought of what we should say in his
hearing; in what terms, worthy of him and of us, we should speak of the
esteem in which we held him, and of the | 208.362332 | 945 |
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[Illustration: _Photo, W. Shawncross, Guildford_.]
[_Frontispiece_. J. ARTHUR GIBBS.]
A COTSWOLD VILLAGE
OR COUNTRY LIFE AND PURSUITS IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE
BY J. ARTHUR GIBBS
"Go, little booke; God send thee good passage,
And specially let this be thy prayere
Unto them all that thee will read or hear,
Where thou art wrong after their help to call,
Thee to correct in any part or all."
GEOFFREY CHAUCER.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
1918
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION
Before the third edition of this work had been published the author
passed away, from sudden failure of the heart, at the early age of
thirty-one. Two or three biographical notices, written by those who
highly appreciated him and who deeply mourn his loss, have already
appeared in the newspapers; and I therefore wish to add only a few words
about one whose kind smile of welcome will greet us no more in
this life.
Joseph Arthur Gibbs was one of those rare natures who combine a love of
outdoor life, cricket and sport of every kind, with a refined and
scholarly taste for literature. He had, like his father, a keen
observation for every detail in nature; and from a habit of patient
watchfulness he acquired great knowledge of natural history. From his
grandfather, the late Sir Arthur Hallam Elton, he inherited his taste
for literary work and the deep poetical feeling which are revealed so
clearly in his book. On leaving Eton, he wrote a _Vale_, of which his
tutor, Mr. Luxmoore, expressed his high appreciation; and later on,
when, after leaving Oxford, he was living a quiet country life, he
devoted himself to literary pursuits.
He was not, however, so engrossed in his work as to ignore other duties;
and he was especially interested in the villagers round his home, and
ever ready to give what is of greater value than money, personal trouble
and time in finding out their wants and in relieving them. His unvarying
kindness and sympathy will never be forgotten at Ablington; for, as one
of the villagers wrote in a letter of condolence on hearing of his
death, "he went in and out as a friend among them." With all his
tenderness of heart, he had a strict sense of justice and a clear
judgment, and weighed carefully both sides of any question before he
gave his verdict.
Arthur Gibbs went abroad at the end of March 1899 for a month's trip to
Italy, and in his Journal he wrote many good descriptions of scenery and
of the old towns; and the way in which he describes his last glimpse of
Florence during a glorious sunset shows how greatly he appreciated its
beauty. In his Journal in April he dwells on the shortness of life, and
in the following solemn words he sounds a warning note:--
"Do not neglect the creeping hours of time: 'the night cometh when no
man can work.' All time is wasted unless spent in work for God. The best
secular way of spending the precious thing that men call time is by
making always for some grand end--a great book, to show forth the
wonders of creation and the infinite goodness of the Creator. You must
influence for _good_ if you write, and write nothing that you will
regret some day or think trivial."
These words, written a month before the end came, tell their own tale.
The writer of them had a deep love for all things that are "lovely,
pure, and of good report"; and in his book one sees clearly the
adoration he felt for that God whom he so faithfully served. There are
many different kinds of work in this world, and diversities of gifts; to
him was given the spirit to discern the work of God in Nature's glory,
and the power to win others to see it also. He had a remarkable
influence for good at Oxford, and the letters from his numerous friends
and from his former tutor at Christ Church show that this influence has
never been forgotten, but has left its mark not only on his college, but
on the university.
Like his namesake and relative, Arthur Hallam, of immortal memory,
Arthur Gibbs had attained to a purity of soul and a wisdom which were
not of this world, at an earlier age than is given to many men; and so
in love and faith and hope--
"I would the great world grew like thee,
Who grewest not alone in power
And knowledge; but by year and hour
In reverence and charity."
LAURA BEATRICE GIBBS.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
To those of my readers who have ever lived beside a stream, or in an
ancient house or time-honoured college, there will always be a peculiar
charm in silvery waters sparkling beneath the summer sun. To you the
Gothic building, with its carved pinnacles, its warped gables, its
mullioned casements and dormer windows, the old oak within, the very
inglenook by the great fireplace where the old folks used to sit at
home, the ivy trailing round the grey walls, the jessamine, roses, and
clematis that in their proper seasons clustered round the porch,--to you
all these things will have their charm as long as you live. Therefore,
if these pages appeal not to some such, it will not be the subject that
is wanting, but the ability of the writer.
It is not claimed for my Cotswold village that it is one whit prettier
or pleasanter or better in any way than hundreds of other villages in
England; I seek only to record the simple annals of a quiet,
old-fashioned Gloucestershire hamlet and the country within walking
distance of it. Nor do I doubt that there are manor houses far more
beautiful and far richer in history even within a twenty-mile radius of
my own home. For instance, the ancient house of Chavenage by Tetbury, or
in the opposite direction, where the northern escarpments of the
Cotswolds rise out of the beautiful Evesham Vale, those historic
mediaeval houses of Southam and Postlip.
It is often said that in books like these we paint arcadias that never
did and never could exist on earth. To this I would answer that there
are many such abodes in country places, if only our minds are such as to
realise them. And, above all, let us be optimists in literature even
though we may be pessimists in life. Let us have all that is joyous and
bright in our books, and leave the trials and failures for the realities
of life. Let us in our literature avoid as much as possible the painful
side of human nature and the pains and penalties of human weakness; let
us endeavour to depict a state of existence as far as possible
approaching the Utopian ideal, though not necessarily the Nirvana of the
Buddhists nor the paradise of fools; let us look not downwards into the
depths of black despair, but upwards into the starry heavens; let us
gaze at the golden evening brightening in the west. Richard Jefferies
has taught us that such a literature is possible; and if we read his
best books, we may some day be granted that fuller soul he prayed for
and at length obtained. Would that we could all hear, as he heard, the
still small voice that whispers in the woods and among the wild flowers
and the spreading foliage by the brook!
To any one who might be thinking of becoming for the time being "a
tourist," and in that capacity visiting the Cotswolds, my advice is,
"Don't." There is really nothing to see. There is nothing, that is to
say, which may not be seen much nearer London. And I freely confess that
most of the subjects included in this book are usually deemed unworthy
of consideration even in the district itself. Still, there are a few who
realise that every county in England is more or less a mine of interest,
and for such I have written. Realising my limitations, I have not gone
deeply into any single subject; my endeavour has been to touch on every
branch of country life with as light a hand as possible--to amuse rather
than to instruct. For, as Washington Irving delightfully sums up the
matter: "It is so much pleasanter to please than to instruct, to play
the companion rather than the preceptor. What, after all, is the mite of
wisdom that I could throw into the mass of knowledge? or how am I sure
that my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the opinions of others?
But in writing to amuse, if I fail, the only evil is in my own
disappointment. If, however, I can by any lucky chance rub out one
wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment
of sorrow; if I can now and then penetrate through the gathering film of
misanthropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make my
reader more in good humour with his fellow beings and himself, surely,
surely, I shall not then have written in vain."
The first half of Chapter II. originally appeared in the _Pall Mall
Magazine_. Portions of Chapters VII. and VIII., and "The Thruster's
Song," have also been published in _Baily's Magazine_. My thanks are due
to the editors for permission to reproduce them. Chapter XII. owes its
inspiration to Mr. Madden's excellent work on Shakespeare's connection
with sport and the Cotswolds, the "Diary of Master William Silence." We
have no local tradition of any kind about Shakespeare.
I am indebted to Miss E.F. Brickdale for the pen-and-ink sketches, and
to Colonel Mordaunt for his beautiful photographs. Three of the
photographs, however, are by H. Taunt, of Oxford, and a similar number
are by Mr. Gardner, of Fairford.
_September 1898_.
CONTENTS
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
CHAPTER I.
FLYING WESTWARDS
The Thames Valley--The Old White Horse--Entering the Cotswolds.
CHAPTER II.
A COTSWOLD VILLAGE
Far from the Madding Crowd--An Old Farmhouse and Its Occupants--The
Manor House--Inscription on Porch--Interior of the House--The Garden--A
Fairy Spring--The Village Club--Labouring Folk--Village Politics--The
Trout Stream--Flowing Seawards--Village Architecture--The Charm of
Antiquity--The Spirit of Sacrifice--Wayside Crosses--Tithe Barns.
CHAPTER III.
VILLAGE CHARACTERS
Quaint Hamlet Folk--The Village Impostor--Rural Economy--Stories of the
People--A Curious Analogy--Tom Peregrine, the Keeper--A Standing
Dish--A Great Character--Peregrine's Accomplishments and
Proclivities--Farmers and Foxes--Concerning Churchwardens--The Village
Quack--An Excellent Prescription--His Lecture--How the Old Fox was
Found--A Good Sort--Heroes of the Hamlet--Political Meetings--Humours of
the Poll--Gloucestershire Farmers.
CHAPTER IV.
THE LANGUAGE OF THE COTSWOLDS, WITH SOME ANCIENT SONGS AND LEGENDS
Strange Travellers--Smoking Concerts--The Carter's Song--Village
Choirs--The Chedworth Band--Sense of Humour of the Natives--Their
Geography "a Bit Mixed"--A Large Family--_Noblesse Oblige_--Rustic
Legends--Names of Fields--The Cotswold Dialect--How to Talk It--An
Ancient Ballad--Tom Peregrine Recites--Roger Plowman's Excursion--An
Expensive Luncheon--Oxtail Soup--"The Turmut Hower."
CHAPTER V.
ON THE WOLDS
Varied Amusements--Nature on the Hills--The Mysteries of
Scent--Partridge-Shooting--A Mixed Bag--Plover--Pigeon-Shooting with
Decoys--Bird Life--Sunset on the Downs--A Wild, Deserted Country--An
Old Dog Fox.
CHAPTER VI.
A GALLOP OVER THE WALLS
An October Meet--Cub-Hunting--The Old Fox Again! A Fast Gallop over the
Walls--The Charm of Uncertainty--Fliers of the Hunt--A Narrow Escape--A
Check--A Reliable Hound--Failure of Scent--An Excellent Tonic.
CHAPTER VII.
A COTSWOLD TROUT STREAM
Loch Leven Trout--Curious Capture of an Eel--The Author Catches a
Red-Herring--Macomber Falls--A Sad Episode--South Country
Streams--Course of the Coln--Charles Kingsley on Fishing--A May-Fly
Stream--Evening Fishing--Dry-Fly Dogmas--Flies for the Coln--Scarcity of
Poachers--An Evening Walk by the River--Spring's Delights.
CHAPTER VIII.
WHEN THE MAY-FLY IS UP
Derby Day on the Coln--A Good Sportsman--The Right Fly--Pleasures of the
Country--Peregrine's Quaint Expressions--Sport with the Olive Dun--A
Fine Trout--Effects of Sheep-Washing--A Good Basket--Life by the
Brook--A Summer's Night--In the Heart of England.
CHAPTER IX.
BURFORD, A COTSWOLD TOWN
Curious Names--The Windrush--Burford Priory--An Empty Shell--The
Kingmaker--Lord Falkland--Speaker Lenthall--Bibury Races--An Old
Tradition--Valued Relics--Burford Church--Mr. Oman's Discovery--Burford
during the Civil Wars.
CHAPTER X.
STROLL THROUGH THE COTSWOLDS
The Old Coaching Days--Fairford--Anglo-Saxon
Relics--Hatherop--Coln-St.-Aldwyns--The "Knights Templar" of
Quenington--A Haunt of Ancient Peace--Bibury Village--Ancient
Barrows--The Prehistoric Age--Deserted Villages--The Philosopher's
Stone--True Nobleness--On Battues--Roman Remains--Chedworth Woods--An
Old Manor House.
CHAPTER XI.
COTSWOLD PASTIMES
Whitsun Ale--Sports of Various Kinds--The Peregrine Family at
Cricket--_Prehistoric_ Cricket--A Bad Ground--A "Pretty" Ball--Charles
Dickens on Cricket--Dumkins and Podder, Limited--How Dumkins Hit a
"Sixer"--Downfall of "Podder"--Bourton-on-the-Water C.C.--A
Plague of Wasps--The Treatment of Cricket Grounds--The Author's
Recipe--Reflections on Modern Cricket.
CHAPTER XII.
THE COTSWOLDS THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO.
The Centre of Elizabethan Sport--A Digression on South Africa--The Halo
of Association--A Day's Stag-Hunting in 1592--A Benighted Sportsman--"A
Goodly Dwelling and a Rich"--An Old English Gentleman--Shakespeare on
Hounds--He Describes the Run--The Death of the Stag--The Ancestral
Peregrine--Bacon not Wanted--A "Black Ousel"--The Charm of
Music--Shakespeare's Dream--A Hawking Expedition--Peregrine, the Parson,
and the Poet--Methods and Language of Falconry--A Flight at a
Heron--Peregrine Views a Fox.
CHAPTER XIII.
CIRENCESTER
Roman Remains--The Corinium Museum--The Church--Cirencester House--The
Park--The Abbey--The "Mop" or Hiring Fair--A Great Hunting Centre--A
Varied Country--The Badminton Hounds--Lord Bathurst's Hounds--The
Cotswold Hounds--Charles Travess--A Born Genius--The Cricklade
Hounds--The Right Sort of Horse--The Oaksey District--The Heythrop
Hounds--A Defence of Hard Riding--A Day in the Vale--A Hunting Poem.
CHAPTER XIV.
SPRING IN THE COTSWOLDS
Habits of Moorhens--Mallard and Swan--Nuthatches--Woodpeckers--Humane
Traps--Badgers--Fox-terriers--Scotch
Deerhounds--Retrievers--Cray-fish--The
Rookery--Jackdaws--Foxes--Artificial Earths--Fox among Sheep--Foxes and
Fowls--Poultry Claims--Observations on Scent--The Hygrometer--How Trout
are Netted--Scarcity of Otters--Water-Voles.
CHAPTER | 208.438594 | 946 |
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Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with
underscores: _italics_. The cover of this ebook was created by the
transcriber and is hereby placed in the public domain.
NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF PAUL CUFFE,
A PEQUOT INDIAN:
DURING THIRTY YEARS SPENT AT SEA,
AND IN
TRAVELLING IN FOREIGN LANDS.
VERNON:
PRINTED BY HORACE N. BILL,
1839.
NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF PAUL CUFFE,
A descendant of an Indian family, which formerly resided in the
eastern part of Connecticut and constituted a part of | 208.639751 | 947 |
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http://gallica.bnf.fr)
THE
DIPLOMATIC CORRESPONDENCE
OF THE
AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
VOL. XI.
THE
DIPLOMATIC CORRESPONDENCE
OF THE
AMERICAN REVOLUTION;
BEING
THE LETTERS OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, SILAS DEANE, JOHN ADAMS, JOHN JAY,
ARTHUR LEE, WILLIAM LEE, RALPH IZARD, FRANCIS DANA, WILLIAM
CARMICHAEL, HENRY LAURENS, JOHN LAURENS, M. DE LAFAYETTE, M. DUMAS,
AND OTHERS, CONCERNING THE FOREIGN RELATIONS OF THE UNITED STATES
DURING THE WHOLE REVOLUTION;
TOGETHER WITH
THE LETTERS IN REPLY FROM THE SECRET COMMITTEE OF CONGRESS, AND THE
SECRETARY OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS.
ALSO,
THE ENTIRE CORRESPONDENCE OF THE FRENCH MINISTERS, GERARD AND LUZERNE,
WITH CONGRESS.
Published under the Direction of the President of the United States,
from the original Manuscripts in the Department of State, conformably
to a Resolution of Congress, of March 27th, 1818.
EDITED
BY JARED SPARKS.
VOL. XI.
BOSTON:
NATHAN HALE AND GRAY & BOWEN;
G. & C. & H. CARVILL, NEW YORK; P. THOMPSON, WASHINGTON.
1830.
Steam Power Press--W. L. Lewis' Print.
No. 6, Congress Street, Boston.
CONTENTS
OF THE
ELEVENTH VOLUME.
LUZERNE'S CORRESPONDENCE,
CONTINUED.
Page.
To the President of Congress. Philadelphia, September 10th,
1781, 3
Communicating the commission of M. Holker, as Consul
General of France.
To the President of Congress. Philadelphia, September 18th,
1781, 4
Desires the appointment of a committee, to whom he may
communicate his despatches.
Communications of the French Minister to Congress. In
Congress, September 21st, 1781, 4
Proposed mediation of the Imperial Courts.--The French
Court requires the establishing of some preliminaries,
as to the admission of an American Minister to the
proposed Congress, and the character in which England
will treat the United States.--The British Court
requires the submission of its revolted subjects in
America.--Necessity of vigorous operations in
America.--Mr Dana's mission to St Petersburg.--The
accession of Maryland to the confederacy should be
followed by vigorous measures.--Mr Adams in
Holland.--Aids to America.--No further pecuniary
assistance can be furnished by the French Court.
To the President of Congress. Philadelphia, September 24th,
1781, 17
Transmitting the memorial of a Spanish subject.
Memorial of Don Francisco Rendon to the Minister of France, 17
Requesting the release of certain prisoners taken at
Pensacola by the Spanish forces, and afterwards captured
by an American vessel.
Congress to the Minister of France. Philadelphia, September
25th, 1781, 19
Relative to the preceding memorial.
From Congress to the King of France, 20
Returning thanks for aid.
The King of France to Congress, 21
Birth of the Dauphin.
Robert R. Livingston to M. de la Luzerne. Philadelphia,
October 24th, 1781, 21
Announces his appointment to the Department of Foreign
Affairs.
To Robert R. Livingston, Secretary of Foreign Affairs.
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PARMENIDES
By Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS.
The awe with which Plato regarded the character of 'the great'
Parmenides has extended to the dialogue which he calls by his name. None
of the writings of Plato have been more copiously illustrated, both in
ancient and modern times, and in none of them have the interpreters
been more at variance with one another. Nor is this surprising. For the
Parmenides is more fragmentary and isolated than any other dialogue, and
the design of the writer is not expressly stated. The date is uncertain;
the relation to the other writings of Plato is also uncertain; the
connexion between the two parts is at first sight extremely obscure;
and in the latter of the two we are left in doubt as to whether Plato is
speaking his own sentiments by the lips of Parmenides, and overthrowing
him out of his own mouth, or whether he is propounding consequences
which would have been admitted by Zeno and Parmenides themselves. The
contradictions which follow from the hypotheses of the one and many have
been regarded by some as transcendental mysteries; by others as a mere
illustration, taken at random, of a new method. They seem to have been
inspired by a sort of dialectical frenzy, such as may be supposed to
have prevailed in the Megarian School (compare Cratylus, etc.). The
criticism on his own doctrine of Ideas has also been considered, not as
a real criticism, but as an exuberance of the metaphysical imagination
which enabled Plato to go beyond himself. To the latter part of the
dialogue we may certainly apply the words in which he himself describes
the earlier philosophers in the Sophist: 'They went on their way rather
regardless of whether we understood them or not.'
The Parmenides | 208.956661 | 949 |
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Old-World Japan
Legends of the Land of the
Gods + + Re-told by Frank
Rinder + With Illustrations
by T. H. Robinson
"The spirit of Japan is as the
fragrance of the wild cherry-blossom
in the dawn of the
rising sun"
London: George Allen
156 Charing Cross Road
1895
Old-World Japan
[Illustration: Publisher's device]
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press
Preface
History and mythology, fact and fable, are closely interwoven in the
texture of Japanese life and thought; indeed, it is within relatively
recent years only that exact comparative criticism has been able, with
some degree of accuracy, to divide the one from the other. The
accounts of the God-period contained in the Kojiki and the
Nihongi--"Records of Ancient Matters" compiled in the eighth century
of the Christian era--profess to outline the events of the vast cycles
of years from the time of Ame-no-mi-naka-nushi-no-kami's birth in the
Plain of High Heaven, "when the earth, young and like unto floating
oil, drifted about medusa-like," to the death of the Empress Suiko,
A.D. 628.
The first six tales in this little volume are founded on some of the
most significant and picturesque incidents of this God-period. The
opening legend gives a brief relation of the birth of several of the
great Shinto deities, of the creation of Japan and of the world, of
the Orpheus-like descent of Izanagi to Hades, and of his subsequent
fight with the demons.
That Chinese civilisation has exercised a profound influence on that
of Japan, cannot be doubted. A scholar of repute has indicated that
evidence of this is to be found even in writings so early as the
Kojiki and the Nihongi. To give a single instance only: the curved
jewels, of which the remarkable necklace of Ama-terasu was made, have
never been found in Japan, whereas the stones are not uncommon in
China.
This is not the place critically to consider the wealth of myth,
legend, fable, and folk-tale to be found scattered throughout Japanese
literature, and represented in Japanese art: suffice it to say, that
to the student and the lover of primitive romance, there are here
vast fields practically unexplored.
The tales contained in this volume have been selected with a view
rather to their beauty and charm of incident and colour, than with the
aim to represent adequately the many-sided subject of Japanese lore.
Moreover, those only have been chosen which are not familiar to the
English-reading public. Several of the classic names of Japan have
been interpolated in the text. It remains to say that, in order not to
weary the reader, it has been found necessary to abbreviate the
many-syllabled Japanese names.
The sources from which I have drawn are too numerous to particularise.
To Professor Basil Hall Chamberlain, whose intimate and scholarly
knowledge of all matters Japanese is well known, my thanks are
especially due, as also the expression of my indebtedness to other
writers in English, from Mr. A. B. Mitford to Mr. Lafcadio Hearn,
whose volumes on "Unfamiliar Japan" appeared last year. The careful
text of Dr. David Brauns, and the studies of F. A. Junker von
Langegg, have also been of great service. The works of numerous French
writers on Japanese art have likewise been consulted with advantage.
FRANK RINDER.
Contents
PAGE
THE BIRTH-TIME OF THE GODS 1
THE SUN-GODDESS 15
THE HEAVENLY MESSENGERS 25
PRINCE RUDDY-PLENTY 35
THE PALACE OF THE OCEAN-BED 45
AUTUMN AND SPRING 57
THE STAR-LOVERS 67
THE ISLAND OF ETERNAL YOUTH 77
RAI-TARO, THE SON OF THE THUNDER-GOD 87
THE SOULS OF THE CHILDREN 97
THE MOON-MAIDEN 103
THE GREAT FIR TREE OF TAKASAGO 113
THE WILLOW OF MUKOCHIMA 121
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 129
THE VISION OF TSUNU 141
PRINCESS FIRE-FLY 151
THE SPARROW'S WEDDING 161
THE LOVE OF THE SNOW-WHITE FOX 171
NEDZUMI 181
KOMA AND GON 189
List of Illustrations
PAGE
Heading to "The Birth-Time of the Gods" 3
_When he had so said, he plunged his jewelled spear
into the seething mass below_ 5
Heading to "The Sun-Goddess" 17
_Ama-terasu gazed into the mirror, and wondered greatly
when she saw therein a goddess of exceeding beauty_ 21
Heading to "The Heavenly Messengers" 27
_As the Young Prince alighted on the sea-shore, a
beautiful earth-spirit, Princess Under-Shining,
stood before him_ 29
Heading to "Prince Ruddy-Plenty" 37
_But the fair Uzume went fearlessly up to the giant,
and said: "Who is it that thus impedes our | 209.128426 | 950 |
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MASTERPIECES IN COLOUR
EDITED BY T. LEMAN HARE
RUBENS
IN THE SAME SERIES
ARTIST. AUTHOR.
VELAZQUEZ. S. L. BENSUSAN.
REYNOLDS. S. L. BENSUSAN.
TURNER. C. LEWIS HIND.
ROMNEY. C. LEWIS HIND.
GREUZE. ALYS EYRE MACKLIN.
BOTTICELLI. HENRY B. BINNS.
ROSSETTI. LUCIEN PISSARRO.
BELLINI. GEORGE HAY.
FRA ANGELICO. JAMES MASON.
REMBRANDT. JOSEF ISRAELS.
LEIGHTON. A. LYS BALDRY.
RAPHAEL. PAUL G. KONODY.
HOLMAN HUNT. MARY E. COLERIDGE.
TITIAN. S. L. BENSUSAN.
MILLAIS. A. LYS BALDRY.
CARLO DOLCI. GEORGE HAY.
GAINSBOROUGH. MAX ROTHSCHILD.
TINTORETTO. S. L. BENSUSAN.
LUINI. JAMES MASON.
FRANZ HALS. EDGCUMBE STALEY.
VAN DYCK. PERCY M. TURNER.
LEONARDO DA VINCI. M. W. BROCKWELL.
R | 209.502551 | 951 |
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LITTLE NOBODY
BY
MRS. ALEX. MCVEIGH MILLER
HART SERIES No. 53
COPYRIGHT 1886 BY GEORGE MUNRO.
PUBLISHED BY
THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY
CLEVELAND, O., U. S. A.
LITTLE NOBODY.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHAPTER XL.
CHAPTER XLI.
CHAPTER XLII.
CHAPTER XLIII.
CHAPTER XLIV.
CHAPTER XLV.
CHAPTER XLVI.
CHAPTER XLVII.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
CHAPTER I.
He was a Northern journalist, and it was in the interest of his paper
that he found himself, one bright March morning, in New Orleans, almost
dazed by the rapidity with which he had been whirled from the ice and
snow of the frozen North to the sunshine and flowers of the sunny South.
He was charmed with the quaint and unique Crescent City. It was a
totally different world from that in which he had been reared--a summer
land, warm, indolent, luxurious, where one plucked the golden oranges
from the dark-green boughs, laden at once with flowers and fruit, and
where the senses were taken captive by the sensuous perfume of rare
flowers that, in his Northern land, grew only within the confines of
the close conservatory. Then, too, the dark, handsome faces of the
people, and their mixture of foreign tongues, had their own peculiar
charm. Nothing amused him so much as a stroll through the antique
French Market, with its lavish abundance of tropic vegetables, fruits,
and flowers, vended by hucksters of different nationalities in the
Babel of languages that charmed his ear with the languorous softness of
the Southern accent.
He had a letter of introduction to a member of the Jockey Club, and
this famous organization at once adopted him, and, as he phrased it,
"put him through." The theaters, the carnival, the races, all whirled
past in a blaze of splendor never to be forgotten; for it was at the
famous Metairie Race-course that he first met Mme. Lorraine.
But you must not think, reader, because I forgot to tell you his name
at first, that he is the Little Nobody of my story. He was not little
at all, but tall and exceedingly well-favored, and signed his name
Eliot Van Zandt.
Mme. Lorraine was a retired actress--ballet-dancer, some said. She
was a French woman, airy and charming, like the majority of her race.
The Jockey Club petted her, although they freely owned that she was a
trifle fast, and did not have the _entree_ of some of the best houses
in the city. However, there were some nice, fashionable people not
so strait-laced who sent her cards to their fetes, and now and then
accepted return invitations, so that it could not be said that she was
outside the pale of society.
Mme. Lorraine took a fancy to the good-looking Yankee, as she dubbed
him, and gave him _carte blanche_ to call at her _bijou_ house in
Esplanade Street. He accepted with outward eagerness and inward
indifference. He was too familiar with women of her type at the
North--fast, frivolous, and avaricious--to be flattered by her notice
or her invitation.
"She may do for the rich Jockey Club, but her acquaintance is too
expensive a luxury for a poor devil of a newspaper correspondent," he
told the Club. "She has card-parties, of course, and I | 209.660704 | 952 |
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JOURNAL OF A WEST INDIA PROPRIETOR,
Kept During A Residence In The Island Of Jamaica.
By Matthew Gregory Lewis
Author of “The Monk,” “The Castle Spectre,” “Tales Of Wonder,” &c.
London: John Murray, Albemarle Street.
MDCCCXXXIV
“I WOULD GIVE MANY A SUGAR CANE,
MAT. LEWIS WERE ALIVE AGAIN!”
BYRON.
[Illustration: 0001]
[Illustration: 0007]
ADVERTISEMENT.
The following Journals of two residences in Jamaica, in 1815-16, and in
1817, are now printed from the MS. of Mr. Lewis; who died at sea, on the
voyage homewards from the West Indies, in the year 1818.
JOURNAL OF A WEST INDIA PROPRIETOR
Expect our sailing in a few hours. But although the vessel left the
Docks on Saturday, she did not reach this place till three o’clock on
Thursday, the 9th. The captain now tells me, that we may expect to sail
certainly in the afternoon of to-morrow, the 10th. I expect the ship’s
cabin to gain greatly by my two days’ residence at the “--------------,”
which nothing can exceed for noise, dirt, and dulness. Eloisa would
never have established “black melancholy” at the Paraclete as its
favourite residence, if she had happened to pass three days at an inn
at Gravesend: nowhere else did I ever see the sky look so dingy, and the
river “_Nunc alio patriam quaero sub sole jacentem_.”--Virgil.
1815. NOVEMBER 8.
(WEDNESDAY)
I left London, and reached Gravesend at nine in the morning, having | 209.742118 | 953 |
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The Christian Foundation,
Or,
Scientific and Religious Journal
Vol. 1. No 3.
March, 1880.
CONTENTS
The Influence Of The Bible Upon Moral And Social Institutions.
The Influence Of The Bible Upon Social Life And Social Institutions.
Law, Cause, And Agent.
The Inconsistency Of Modern Unbelievers Or Materialists.
Materialism In Its Bearings Upon Person And Personality.
Was It Right?
It Only Needs To Be Seen, And Its Ugliness At Once Appears.
Did The Race Ascend From A Low State Of Barbarism?
The Flood Viewed From A Scientific And Biblical Standpoint.
The Mosaic Law In Greece, In Rome, And In The Common Law Of England.
Did Adam Fall Or Rise?
Did They Dream It, Or Was It So | 209.879917 | 954 |
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Distributed Proofreaders
The Turquoise Cup, and, The Desert
By
Arthur Cosslett Smith
1903
"KHADIJA BELIEVES IN ME"
CONTENTS
I The Turquoise Cup
II The Desert
THE TURQUOISE CUP
The Cardinal Archbishop sat on his shaded balcony, his well-kept hands
clasped upon his breast, his feet stretched out so straight before him
that the pigeon, perched on the rail of the balcony, might have seen
fully six inches of scarlet silk stocking.
The cardinal was a small man, but very neatly made. His hair was as
white as spun glass. Perhaps he was sixty; perhaps he was seventy;
perhaps he was fifty. His red biretta lay upon a near-by chair. His head
bore no tonsure. The razor of the barber and the scythe of Time had
passed him by. There was that faint tinge upon his cheeks that comes to
those who, having once had black beards, shave twice daily. His features
were clearly cut. His skin would have been pallid had it not been olive.
A rebellious lock of hair curved upon his forehead. He resembled the
first Napoleon, before the latter became famous and fat.
The pigeon's mate came floating through the blue sky that silhouetted
the trees in the garden. She made a pretence of alighting upon the
balcony railing, sheered off, coquetted among the treetops, came back
again, retreated so far that she was merely a white speck against the
blue vault, and then, true to her sex, having proved her liberty only to
tire of it, with a flight so swift that the eye could scarcely follow
her, she came back again and rested upon the farther end of the balcony,
where she immediately began to preen herself and to affect an air of
nonchalance and virtue.
Her mate lazily opened one eye, which regarded her for a moment, and
then closed with a wink.
"Ah, my friends," said the cardinal, "there are days when you make me
regret that I am not of the world, but this is not one of them. You have
quarrelled, I perceive. When you build your nest down yonder in the
cote, I envy you. When you are giving up your lives to feeding your
children, I envy you. I watch your flights for food for them. I say to
myself, 'I, too, would struggle to keep a child, if I had one. Commerce,
invention, speculation--why could I not succeed in one of these? I have
arrived in the most intricate profession of all. I am a cardinal
archbishop. Could I not have been a stockbroker?' Ah, signore and
signora," and he bowed to the pigeons, "you get nearer heaven than we
poor mortals. Have you learned nothing--have you heard no whisper--have
you no message for me?"
"Your eminence," said a servant who came upon the balcony, a silver tray
in his hand, "a visitor."
The cardinal took the card and read it aloud--"The Earl of Vauxhall."
He sat silent a moment, thinking. "I do not know him," he said at
length; "but show him up."
He put on his biretta, assumed a more erect attitude, and then turned to
the pigeons.
"Adieu," he said; "commercialism approaches in the person of an
Englishman. He comes either to buy or to sell. You have nothing in
common with him. Fly away to the Piazza, but come back tomorrow. If you
do not, I shall miss you sorely."
The curtains parted, and the servant announced, "The Earl of Vauxhall."
The cardinal rose from his chair.
A young man stepped upon the balcony. He was tall and lithe and blond,
and six-and-twenty.
"Your grace," he said, "I have come because I am in deep trouble."
"In that event," said the cardinal, "you do me much honor. My vocation
is to seek out those who are in trouble. When _they_ seek _me_ it argues
that I am not unknown. You are an Englishman. You may speak your own
language. It is not the most flexible, but it is an excellent vehicle
for the truth."
"Thank you," said the young man; "that gives me a better chance, since
my Italian is of the gondolier type. I speak it mostly with my arms,"
and he began to gesticulate.
"I understand," said the cardinal, smiling, "and I fear that my English
is open to some criticism. I picked it up in the University of Oxford.
My friends in the Vatican tell me that it is a patois."
"I dare say," said the young man. "I was at Cambridge."
"Ah," said the cardinal, "how unfortunate. Still, we may be able to
understand one another. Will you have some tea? It is a habit I
contracted in England, and I find it to be a good one. I sit here at
five o'clock, drink my cup of tea, feed the pigeons that light upon the
railing, and have a half-hour in which to remember how great is England,
and"--with a bow--"how much the rest of the world owes to her."
"A decent sort of chap, for an Italian," thought the earl. The cardinal
busied himself with the tea-pot.
"Your grace," said the earl, finally, "I came here in trouble."
"It cannot be of long standing," said the cardinal. "You do not look
like one who has passed through the fire."
"No," said the earl, "but I scarcely know what to say to you. I am
embarrassed."
"My son," said the cardinal, "when an Englishman is embarrassed he is
truly penitent. You may begin as abruptly as you choose. Are you a
Catholic?"
"No," replied the earl, "I am of the Church of England."
The cardinal shrugged his shoulders the least bit. "I never cease to
admire your countrymen," he said, "On Sundays they say, 'I believe in
the Holy Catholic Church,' and, on work-days, they say, 'I believe in
the Holy Anglican Church.' You are admirably trained. You adapt
yourselves to circumstances."
"Yes," said the earl, a trifle nettled, "I believe we do, but at present
I find myself as maladroit as though I had been born on the
Continent--in Italy, for example."
"Good," laughed the cardinal; "I am getting to be a garrulous old man. I
love to air my English speech, and, in my effort to speak it freely, I
sometimes speak it beyond license. Can you forgive me, my lord, and will
you tell me how I can serve you?"
"I came," said the Earl of Vauxhall, "to ask you if there is any way in
which I can buy the turquoise cup."
"I do not understand," said the cardinal.
"The turquoise cup," repeated the earl. "The one in the treasury of St.
Mark's."
The cardinal began to laugh--then he suddenly ceased, looked hard at the
earl and asked, "Are you serious, my lord?"
"Very," replied the earl.
"Are you quite well?" asked the cardinal.
"Yes," said the earl, "but I am very uncomfortable."
The cardinal began to pace up and down the balcony.
"My lord," he asked, finally, "have you ever negotiated for the Holy
Coat at Treves; for the breastplate of Charlemagne in the Louvre; for
the Crown Jewels in the Tower?"
"No," said the earl; "I have no use for them, but I very much need the
turquoise cup."
"Are you a professional or an amateur?" asked the cardinal, his eyes
flashing, his lips twitching.
"As I understand it," said the earl, slowly, a faint blush stealing into
his cheeks, "an 'amateur' is a lover. If that is right, perhaps you had
better put me down as an 'amateur.'"
The cardinal saw the blush and his anger vanished.
"Ah," he said, softly, "there is a woman, is there?"
"Yes," replied the earl, "there is a woman."
"Well," said the cardinal, "I am listening."
"It won't bore you?" asked the earl. "If I begin about her I sha'n't
know when to stop."
"My lord," said the cardinal, "if there were no women there would be no
priests. Our occupation would be gone. There was a time when _men_ built
churches, beautified them, and went to them. How is it now; even here in
Venice, where art still exists, and where there is no bourse? I was
speaking with a man only to-day--a man of affairs, one who buys and
sells, who has agents in foreign lands and ships on the seas; a man who,
in the old religious days, would have given a tenth of all his goods to
the Church and would have found honor and contentment in the remainder;
but he is bitten with this new-fangled belief of disbelief. He has a
sneaking fear that Christianity has been supplanted by electricity and
he worships Huxley rather than Christ crucified--Huxley!" and the
cardinal threw up his hands. "Did ever a man die the easier because he
had grovelled at the knees of Huxley? What did Huxley preach? The
doctrine of despair. He was the Pope of protoplasm. He beat his wings
against the bars of the unknowable. He set his finite mind the task of
solving the infinite. A mere creature, he sought to fathom the mind of
his creator. Read the lines upon his tomb, written by his wife--what do
they teach? Nothing but 'let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.' If
a man follows Huxley, then is he a fool if he does not give to this poor
squeezed-lemon of a world another twist. If I believed there was nothing
after this life, do you think I should be sitting here, feeding the
pigeons? Do you think--but there, I have aired my English speech and
have had my fling at Huxley. Let me fill your cup and then tell me of
this woman whom I have kept waiting all this time by my vanity and my
ill manners. Is she English, French, Spanish, or American? There are
many Americans nowadays."
"No," said the earl, "she is Irish."
"The most dangerous of all," remarked the cardinal.
"It is plain that you know women," said the earl.
"I?" exclaimed the cardinal. "No; nor any living man."
"Her father." resumed the earl, "was a great brewer in Dublin. He made
ripping stout. Perhaps you use it. It has a green label, with a bull's
head. He kept straight all through the home-rule troubles, and he
chipped in a lot for the Jubilee fund, and they made him Lord Vatsmore.
He died two years ago and left one child. She is Lady Nora Daly. She is
waiting for me now in the Piazza."
"Perhaps I am detaining you?" said the cardinal.
"By no means," replied the earl. "I don't dare to go back just yet. I
met her first at home, last season. I've followed her about like a
spaniel ever since. I started in for a lark, and now I'm in for keeps.
She has a peculiar way with her," continued the earl, smoothing his hat;
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CELEBRATED TRAVELS AND TRAVELLERS.
THE EXPLORATION OF THE WORLD.
[Frontispiece: TRANSLATED BY DORA LEIGH]
CELEBRATED TRAVELS AND TRAVELLERS.
THE EXPLORATION OF THE WORLD.
BY JULES VERNE
WITH 59 ILLUSTRATIONS BY L. BENETT AND P. PHILIPPOTEAUX,
AND 50 FAC-SIMILES OF ANCIENT DRAWINGS.
[Illustration: _TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH._]
London:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON,
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
1882.
[_All rights reserved._]
Celebrated Travels and Travellers,
BY JULES VERNE.
_In Three Vols., demy 8vo, each containing 400 pages and upwards of
100 Illustrations, price 12s. 6d. each; cloth extra, gilt edges,
14s._
Part I. The Exploration of the World.
Part II. The Great Navigators of the Eighteenth Century.
Part III. The Great Navigators of the Nineteenth Century.
EXPLORATION OF THE WORLD.
LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS
REPRODUCED IN FAC-SIMILE FROM THE ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS,
GIVING THE SOURCES WHENCE THEY ARE DERIVED.
FIRST PART.
Map of the World as known to the Ancients.
Approach to Constantinople. Anselmi Banduri Imperium orientale, tome
II., p. 448. 2 vols. folio. Parisiis, 1711.
Map of the World according to Marco Polo's ideas. Vol. I., p. 134 of
the edition of Marco Polo published in London by Colonel Yule, 2
vols. 8vo.
Plan of Pekin in 1290. Yule's edition. Vol. I., p. 332.
Portrait of Jean de Bethencourt. "The discovery and conquest of the
Canaries." Page 1, 12mo. Paris, 1630.
Plan of Jerusalem. "Narrative of the journey beyond seas to the Holy
Sepulchre of Jerusalem," by Antoine Regnant, p. 229, 4to. Lyons,
1573.
Prince Henry the Navigator. From a miniature engraved in "The
Discoveries of Prince Henry the Navigator," by H. Major. 8vo. London,
1877.
Christopher Columbus. Taken from "Vitae illustrium virorum," by Paul
Jove. Folio. Basileae, Perna.
Imaginary view of Seville. Th. de Bry. Grands Voyages, pl. I., part
IV.
Building of a caravel. Th. de Bry. Grands Voyages, Americae, part
IV., plate XIX.
Christopher Columbus on board his caravel. Th. de Bry. Grands
Voyages, Americae, part IV., plate VI.
Embarkation of Christopher Columbus. Th. de Bry. Grands Voyages,
Americae, part IV., plate VIII.
Map of the Antilles and the Gulf of Mexico. Th. de Bry. Grands
Voyages, Americae, part V.
Fishing for Pearl oysters. Th. de Bry. Grands Voyages, Americae,
part IV., plate XII.
Gold-mines in Cuba. Th. de Bry. Grands Voyages, Americae, part V.,
plate I.
Vasco da Gama. From an engraving in the Cabinet des Estampes of the
Bibl. Nat.
La Mina. "Histoire generale des Voyages," by the Abbe Prevost. Vol.
III., p. 461, 4to. 20 vols. An X. 1746.
Map of the East Coast of Africa, from the Cape of Good Hope to the
Cape del Gado. From the French map of the Eastern Ocean, published
in 1740 by order of the Comte de Maurepas.
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by The Internet Archive)
CAMBRIDGE BIOLOGICAL SERIES.
GENERAL EDITOR:--ARTHUR E. SHIPLEY, M.A., F.R.S.
FELLOW AND TUTOR OF CHRIST’s COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
GRASSES.
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER.
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET.
[Illustration]
ALSO
London: H. K. LEWIS, 136, GOWER STREET, W.C.
Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS.
New York: G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS.
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN & CO. LTD.
[_All Rights reserved._]
GRASSES
A HANDBOOK FOR USE IN THE FIELD
AND LABORATORY.
BY
H. MARSHALL WARD, SC.D., F.R.S.
LATE PROFESSOR OF BOTANY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.
CAMBRIDGE:
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
1908
_First Edition 1901 Reprinted 1908_
PREFACE.
The following pages have been written in the hope that they may be
used in the field and in the laboratory with specimens of our ordinary
grasses in the hand. Most of the exercises involved demand exact
study by means of a good hand-lens, a mode of investigation far too
much neglected in modern teaching. The book is not intended to be a
complete manual of grasses, but to be an account of our common native
species, so arranged that the student may learn how to closely observe
and deal with the distinctive characters of these remarkable | 210.054517 | 957 |
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Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
GRAY YOUTH
OLIVER ONIONS
NOVELS BY OLIVER ONIONS
IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE EVIDENCE
THE DEBIT ACCOUNT
THE STORY OF LOUIE
GRAY YOUTH
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
NEW YORK
GRAY YOUTH
THE STORY OF A VERY MODERN COURTSHIP
AND A VERY MODERN MARRIAGE
BY
OLIVER ONIONS
Author of "In Accordance with the Evidence,"
"The Debit Account."
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
NEW YORK
_Publishers in America for Hodder & Stoughton_
Copyright, 1913,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
Copyright, 1914,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
TO
MARY STEWART
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
Gray Youth is published in England in two volumes under the titles:
The Two Kisses and A Crooked Mile.
CONTENTS
BOOK ONE: A VERY MODERN COURTSHIP--THE TWO KISSES
PART I
CHAPTER PAGE
ARGUMENT 11
I CHEYNE WALK 18
II THE SURPRISE PARTY 33
III THE FASHION STUDIO 52
IV THE MCGRATH 67
V POUNDS AND SHILLINGS 83
VI WOMAN'S WHOLE EXISTENCE 99
VII THE VOICE THAT BREATHED O'ER EDEN 120
PART II
I PENCE 142
II A DAMSEL ERRANT 160
III "BUSINESS AS USUAL" 176
IV "IL FAUT QU' UNE PORTE--" 191
V BOND AND FREE 215
PART III
I THE LEAGUE 243
II "BARRAGE" 263
III EPITHALAMIUM 287
ENTR' ACTE 314
BOOK TWO: A VERY MODERN MARRIAGE--A CROOKED MILE
PART I
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE WITAN 321
II THE POND-ROOM 337
III THE "NOVUM" 352
IV THE STONE WALL 369
V THREE SHIPS 393
VI POLICY 414
PART II
I THE PIGEON PAIR 435
II THE 'VERT 447
III THE IMPERIALISTS 463
IV THE OUTSIDERS 485
V "HOUSE FULL" 503
VI THE SOUL STORM 524
PART III
I LITMUS 553
II BY THE WAY 568
III DE TROP 588
IV GRAY YOUTH 598
V TAILPIECE 620
BOOK ONE
A VERY MODERN COURTSHIP
PART I
ARGUMENT
A girl of seventeen, with a knitted tam-o'-shanter cap and a thick
cable of red-bronze hair hanging down her back, walked along a gallery
of the Louvre, looking for her aunt. The eyes that turned whenever she
heard a footfall or, passing a statue or case, saw a fresh vista before
her, were of a light brown, with just such a hint of gold in their
irises as you see when some opals are turned and catch a different
light; and they were confused and overfilled with the treasures on
which they had rested. She was an art-student, and must return to
London on the morrow in order to resume her studies at the McGrath.
It was her first visit to Paris, and she had spent the whole of
her three weeks at the Cluny and the Luxembourg, at the Louvre and
Versailles. Now, drenched and sated with beauty, she still could not
bear to leave it all. A few minutes before, passing through the Salon
Carre, where an elderly lady had been copying the Entombment, she had
wished that she too might be old and white-haired if only age might so
enlarge her capacity for loveliness, that even youth would be well lost
for it. Already she loved the highest when she saw it, and, being an
artist, she needs must attempt it too.
The girl found her aunt near the spot where the Antinoeus stands on its
pedestal, and walked along by her side, neither speaking nor listening
to the elder lady's remarks on the objects they passed. They did not
seem to her to be worth listening to. She knew that for her aunt art
had reached its _comble_ on the day when the late Sir Noel Paton had
affixed his signature to "The Man with the Muckrake," and she had got
out of the way of trying to explain that much water had flowed under
London Bridge and many students flowed through the McGrath since that
time. Besides, she did not want to talk. She wanted this last high hour
in the Louvre as much as might be to herself. She wanted to taste the
full emotion of it, not even analysing it, if only for once analysis
would cry a truce. At the end of the gallery they turned and walked
back again.
It was as they passed the Antinoeus for the second time that the girl
felt her young bosom rise almost painfully. She could not have told
why, without premeditation, she suddenly lingered, so that her aunt
passed a little ahead. She watched her disappear behind some plinth or
pedestal or other, and then stopped opposite the marble bust.
There was no knowing when she might find herself in this wonderful
place again, and it seemed to her that her farewell of it now required
some symbol. She gave a furtive glance round. Neither visitor nor
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THE HOMESTEADERS
A NOVEL OF THE CANADIAN WEST
by
Robert J. C. Stead
Author of "Kitchener and Other Poems," "Songs of the Prairie," "The
Cow Puncher," ETC
The Musson Book Company Limited
Publishers Toronto
FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1916.
CONTENTS
PRELUDE
I. THE BECK OF FORTUNE
II. INTO THE WILDERNESS
III. PRAIRIE LAND
IV. ROUGHING IT
V. THE | 210.137319 | 959 |
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produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
AN
ARCHITECT'S NOTE-BOOK
IN
SPAIN
_PRINCIPALLY ILLUSTRATING THE_
DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE OF THAT COUNTRY.
BY
M. DIGBY WYATT, M.A.
SLADE PROFESSOR OF FINE ART IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, &C.
WITH ONE HUNDRED OF THE AUTHOR'S SKETCHES,
REPRODUCED BY THE AUTOTYPE MECHANICAL PROCESS.
LONDON:
AUTOTYPE FINE ART COMPANY (LIMITED),
_36, RATHBONE PLACE._
TO
OWEN JONES, ESQ.
KNIGHT OF THE ORDERS OF SAINTS MAURICE AND LAZARUS OF ITALY, AND OF
LEOPOLD OF BELGIUM | 210.190961 | 960 |
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SYLVIA'S MARRIAGE
A NOVEL
By Upton Sinclair
Author Of "The Jungle," Etc., Etc.
London
SOME PRESS NOTICES
"The importance of the theme cannot be doubted, and no one hitherto
ignorant of the ravages of the evil and therefore, by implication, in
need of being convinced can refuse general agreement with Mr. Sinclair
upon the question as he argues it. The character that matters most is
very much alive and most entertaining."-- | 210.268267 | 961 |
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Produced by Paul Haxo from page images generously made
available by Google and the Bodleian Library.
THE
CORSICAN BROTHERS
A NOVEL
BY
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
TRANSLATED BY HENRY FRITH
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
NEW YORK: 416, BROOME STREET
1880
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER,
MILFORD LANE, STRAND, W.C.
TO
HENRY IRVING
THE LATEST REPRESENTATIVE OF THE TWIN BROTHERS
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY
THE TRANSLATOR
THE
CORSICAN BROTHERS.
CHAPTER I.
IN the beginning of March, 1841, I was travelling in Corsica.
Nothing is more picturesque and more easy to accomplish than a journey
in Corsica. You can embark at Toulon, in twenty hours you will be in
Ajaccio, and then in twenty-four hours more you are at Bastia.
Once there you can hire or purchase a horse. If you wish to hire a
horse you can do so for five francs a-day; if you purchase one you can
have a good animal for one hundred and fifty francs. And don't sneer
at the moderate price, for the horse hired or purchased will perform
as great feats as the famous Gascon horse which leaped over the Pont
Neuf, which neither Prospero nor Nautilus, the heroes of Chantilly and
the Champ de Mars could do. He will traverse roads which Balmat
himself could not cross without _crampons,_ and will go over bridges
upon which Auriol would need a balancing pole.
As for the traveller, all he has to do is to give the horse his head
and let him go as he pleases; he does not mind the danger. We may add
that with this horse, which can go anywhere, the traveller can
accomplish his fifteen leagues a day without stopping to bait.
From time to time, while the tourist may be halting to examine some
ancient castle, built by some old baron or legendary hero, or to
sketch a tower built ages ago by the Genoese, the horse will be
contented to graze by the road side, or to pluck the mosses from the
rocks in the vicinity.
As to lodging for the night, it is still more simple in Corsica. The
traveller having arrived at a village, passes down through the
principal street, and making his own choice of the house wherein he
will rest, he knocks at the door. An instant after, the master or
mistress will appear upon the threshold, invite the traveller to
dismount; offer him a share of the family supper and the whole of his
own bed, and next morning, when seeing him safely resume his journey,
will thank him for the preference he has accorded to his house.
As for remuneration, such a thing is never hinted at. The master would
regard it as an insult if the subject were broached. If, however, the
servant happen to be a young girl, one may fitly offer her a
handkerchief, with which she can make up a picturesque coiffure for a
fete day. If the domestic be a male he will gladly accept a poignard,
with which he can kill his enemy, should he meet him.
There is one thing more to remark, and that is, as sometimes happens,
the servants of the house are relatives of the owner, and the former
being in reduced circumstances, offer their services to the latter in
consideration of board and lodging and a few piastres per month.
And it must not be supposed that the masters are not well served by
their cousins to the fifteenth and sixteenth degree, because the
contrary is the case, and the custom is not thought anything of.
Corsica is a French Department certainly, but Corsica is very far from
being France.
As for robbers, one never hears of them, yet there are bandits in
abundance; but these gentlemen must in no wise be confounded one with
another.
So go without fear to Ajaccio, to Bastia, with a purse full of money
hanging to your saddle-bow, and you may traverse the whole island
without a shadow of danger, but do not go from Oceana to Levaco, if
you happen to have an enemy who has declared the Vendetta against you,
for I would not answer for your safety during that short journey of
six miles.
Well, then, I was in Corsica, as I have said, at the beginning of the
month of March, and I was alone; Jadin having remained at Rome.
I had come across from Elba, had disembarked at Bastia, and there had
purchased a horse at the above-mentioned price.
I had visited Corte and Ajaccio, and just | 210.286503 | 962 |
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PEGGY
_Books by Laura E. Richards._
"Mrs. Richards has made for herself a little niche apart in the literary
world, from her delicate treatment of New England village
life."--_Boston Post._
THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES.
=CAPTAIN JANUARY.= 16mo, cloth, 50 cents.
A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose success has been very
remarkable. One reads it, is thoroughly charmed by it, tells others, and
so its fame has been heralded by its readers, until to-day it is selling
by the thousands, constantly enlarging the circle of its delighted
admirers.
=SAME.= _Illustrated Holiday Edition._ With thirty half-tone pictures
from drawings by Frank T. Merrill. 4to, cloth, $1.25.
=MELODY.= The Story of a Child. 16mo, 50 cents.
"Had there never been a 'Captain January,' 'Melody' would easily take
first place."--_Boston Times._
=SAME.= _Illustrated Holiday Edition._ With thirty half-tone pictures
from drawings by Frank T. Merrill. 4to, cloth, $1.25.
=MARIE.= 16mo, 50 cents.
"Seldom has Mrs. Richards drawn a more irresistible picture, or framed
one with more artistic literary adjustment."--_Boston Herald._
"A perfect literary gem."--_Boston Transcript._
=NARCISSA=, and a companion story, =IN VERONA=. 16mo, cloth, 50 cents.
"Each is a simple, touching, sweet little story of rustic New England
life, full of vivid pictures of interesting character, and refreshing
for its unaffected genuineness and human feeling." | 210.478325 | 963 |
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Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by
Google Books (Oxford University)
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Google Books
http://books.google.com/books?id=GyAGAAAAQAAJ
(Oxford University)
THE LAST CALL.
THE LAST CALL.
A Romance.
BY
RICHARD DOWLING,
AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF KILLARD," "THE WEIRD SISTERS,"
"SWEET INISFAIL," ETC.
_IN THREE VOLUMES_.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE ST., STRAND.
1884.
[_All rights reserved_.]
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS
CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
THE LAST CALL.
* * * * *
Part I.
THE LAST CALL.
CHAPTER I.
The sun was low behind a bank of leaden cloud which stood like a wall
upon the western horizon. In front of a horse-shoe cove lay a placid
bay, and to the westward, but invisible from the cove, the plains of
the Atlantic.
It was low water, and summer. The air of the cove was soft with
exhalations from the weed-clad rocks stretching in green and brown
furrows from the ridge of blue shingle in the cove to the violet
levels of the sea.
On the ridge of shingle lay a young man, whose eyes rested on the sea.
He was of the middle height and figure. Twenty-seven or twenty-eight
seemed to be his age. He had a neat, compact forehead, dark gray eyes,
ruddy, full cheeks, a prominent nose, full lips, and a square chin.
The face looked honest, good-humoured, manly. The moustaches were
brown; the brown hair curled under the hat. The young man wore a gray
tweed suit and a straw hat.
He lay resting on his elbow. In the line of his sight far out in the
bay a small dot moved almost imperceptibly. The lounger knew this dot
was a boat: distance prevented his seeing it contained a man and a
woman.
Dominique Lavirotte, the man in the boat, was of the middle height and
figure, twenty-four years of age, looking like a Greek, but French by
descent and birth. The eyes and skin were dark, the beard and
moustaches black. The men of Rathclare, a town ten miles off, declared
he was the handsomest man they had ever seen, and yet felt their
candour ill-requited when their sweethearts and wives concurred.
With Dominique Lavirotte in the boat was Ellen Creagh. She was not a
native of Rathclare, but of Glengowra, the small seaside and fishing
town situate on Glengowra Bay, over which the boat was now lazily
gliding in the cool blue light of the afternoon.
Ellen Creagh was tall and slender, above the average height of women,
and very fair. She had light golden-brown hair, bright lustrous blue
eyes, and lips of delicate red. The upper lip was short. Even in
repose her face always suggested a smile. One of the great charms of
the head was the fluent ease with which it moved. The greatest charm
of the face was the sweet susceptibility it had to smile. It seemed,
when unmoved, to wait in placid faith, the advent of pleasant things.
During its moments of quiet there was no suggestion of doubt or
anxiety in it. To it the world was fair and pleasant--and the face was
pleasant and wonderfully fair. Pleasant people are less degraded by
affectation than solemn people. Your solemn man is generally a
swindler of some kind, and nearly always selfish and insincere. Ellen
Creagh looked the embodiment of good-humoured candour, and the ideal
of health and beauty. She was as blithe and wholesome as the end of
May; she was a northern Hebe, a goddess of youth and joy.
The name of the young man lying on the shingles was Eugene O'Donnell.
He lived in the important seaport of Rathclare, where his father was
the richest and most respected merchant and shipowner. There had James
O'Donnell been established in business for many years, and they now
said he was not worth less than a quarter of a million sterling. Mrs.
O'Donnell was a hale, brisk, bright-minded woman of fifty-seven, being
three years her husband's junior. The pair had but one child, Eugene,
and to him in due time all the old man's money was to go. The
O'Donnells were wealthy and popular. The father had a slow, methodical
way, which did not win upon strangers, but among those who knew him no
one was more highly respected. Without any trace of extravagance,
James O'Donnell was liberal with his money. He was a good husband, a
good father, and a good employer.
He had only one source of permanent uneasiness--his son Eugene was not
married, and showed no inclination towards marriage. The old man held
that every young man who could support a wife should take one. He
himself had married young, had prospered amazingly, and never for a
moment regretted his marriage. He was prepared to give his son a share
in his business, and a thousand a year out of the interest of his
savings, if the young man would only settle. But although Eugene
O'Donnell was as good-humoured and good-hearted a young fellow as the
town of Rathclare, or the next town to it, could show, and although
there was not in the whole town one girl who would be likely to refuse
him, and although there were plenty of handsome girls in Rathclare,
Eugene O'Donnell remained obdurate. It was lamentable, but what could
anyone do? The young man would not make love, the father would not
insist upon his marrying whether he loved or no, and there being at
Rathclare little faith in leap-year, no widow or maiden of the town
was bold enough to ask him to wed her.
While the young man lying on the shingle was idly watching the boat,
the young man in the boat was by no means idle. The sculls he was
pulling occupied none of his attention. He swung himself mechanically
backward and forward. His whole mind was fixed on the face and form of
the girl sitting in the stern.
"And so, you really must go back to Dublin?" he said ruefully.
"Yes," she answered with a smile. "I must really go back to Dublin
within a fortnight."
"And leave all here behind," he said tenderly.
"All!" she exclaimed, looking around sadly. "There is not much to
leave besides the sea, which I always loved, and my mother, whom I
always loved also."
"There is nothing else in the place, I suppose, Miss Creagh, you love,
but the sea and your mother?"
"No," she answered, "nothing. I have no relative living but my mother,
and she and the sea are my oldest friends."
"But have you no new friend or friends?"
She shook her head, and leaning over the side of the boat, drew her
fingers slowly through the water.
"The Vernons," she said, "are good to me, and I like the girls very
much. But I am only their servant--a mere governess."
"A mere queen!" he said. "I have known you but a short time. That has
been the happiest time of my life. _I_ at least can never forget it.
May you?"
Suddenly a slight change came over her. She lost a little of her
gaiety, and gathered herself together with a shadow of reserve.
"I do not think, Mr.. Lavirotte, I shall soon forget the many pleasant
hours we have spent together and the great kindness you have shown to
me."
"And you do not think you will forget _me?_"
"How can I remember your kindness and forget you?" she asked gravely.
"Yes, yes," he said eagerly, "but you know what I mean, and are
avoiding my meaning. Perhaps I have been too hasty. Shall I sing you a
song?"
"Yes, please, if you will row towards home."
Then he sang:
"The bright stars fade, the morn is breaking,
The dew-drops pearl each flower and leaf,
When I of thee my leave am taking,
With bliss too brief.
How sinks my heart with fond alarms,
The tear is hiding in mine eye,
For time doth chase me from thine arms:
Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye."
The boat was now well inshore.
"Lavirotte! Lavirotte's voice, by all the gods!" cried Eugene
O'Donnell, raising himself into a sitting posture. "Doing the
polite--doing the lover, for all I know. Why has he stopped there? He
will begin again in a moment."
"When you go, Ellen, will you give me leave to bid you adieu in these
words?"
"Mr. Lavirotte," she said, in doubt and pain, "I am exceedingly sorry
that----"
"It is enough," he said. "Say no more. I am a ruined man."
"He will not finish it," said O'Donnell. "He is ungallant. I will
finish it for him.
"The sun is up, the lark is soaring,
Loud swells the song of chanticleer;
The leveret bounds o'er earth's soft flooring:
Yet I am here.
For since night's gems from heaven did fade,
And morn to floral lips must hie,
I could not leave thee though I said,
Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye."
The girl raised her head and listened for a moment, and then bent her
head in some confusion. There was to her a sense of surprise in
feeling that this song had, bearing its present associations, been
completed by an unknown voice.
Lavirotte noticed the look of disquietude on the girl's face, and said
lightly and bitterly: "You need not be uneasy, Miss Creagh. I know the
man who finished my song for me, when there was no use in my going on
with it. He and I are rival tenors. I will introduce you to him when
we get ashore. We are the closest friends. He is the best of good
fellows, and reputed--ah, I envy him--to be a woman-hater."
At length the boat glided slowly through the green channel that led
from the plain of the violet bay to the ridge of blue shingle.
Lavirotte handed the girl out as soon as they reached the beach, and,
as he did so, said: "You have no objection to know my friend?"
She was anxious to conciliate him in any way she might. "No," she
whispered. "What a lovely voice he has."
"Better than mine?" he asked abruptly and harshly.
"I--I," she hesitated, "am but a poor judge."
"Which means," he said bitterly, "that you are a good judge, and
decide against me."
By this time they were close to where O'Donnell was. He was standing,
and looking out to sea.
"Comrade," said Lavirotte, touching him on the shoulder, "I am
delighted to see you. I am in sore need of a _friend_. Miss Creagh has
admired your singing very much. Mr. O'Donnell--Miss Creagh."
"Am I dreaming," thought O'Donnell, "or is this beauty real?"
CHAPTER II.
There was around Dominique Lavirotte an air of mystery which kept the
good simple folk of Glengowra at bay. Although, theoretically,
Frenchmen have always been popular in Ireland, this applies rather to
the mass than to the individual.
There was nothing repulsive about Dominique Lavirotte. On the
contrary, he had attractive manners, and although he spoke English
with a broken accent, he spoke it fluently and faultlessly. He was
agreeable in company, well-read, and possessed a shallow
encyclop[ae]dic knowledge, by means of which he was enabled to give
great brilliancy and point to his conversation.
Yet at certain moments he was taciturn, and if one attempted to break
in upon his reserve he turned swiftly and snarled even at his best
friend.
According to his own account, he was descended from Louis Anne
Lavirotte, medical doctor, born at Nolay, in the diocese of Autun,
somewhere about a hundred years ago, who was a most skilful physician,
and one well versed in the English language. This dead doctor of a
hundred years ago had devoted much of his attention while on earth to
more or less obscure forms of mental disease, and had written a
treatise on hydrophobia.
Dominique was very proud of this learned ancestor, and paid his
relative of the last century the compliment of devoting some of his
own time to the consideration of abnormal mental developments. Indeed,
some of those who knew him best said that there was a twist in his own
mind, and that under extreme provocation, mental or physical, the
brain would give way.
Lavirotte and O'Donnell were as close friends as it is possible for
men to be; and, notwithstanding the ten miles which separated their
homes, they saw much of one another. Each was young and enthusiastic,
each sang tenor, and sang uncommonly well.
In the town of Rathclare, no young man was more popular than Eugene
O'Donnell, and the people there thought it a thousand pities that he
should select as his favourite friend a man who was not only not a
resident of Rathclare, but a foreigner, with mysterious ways and an
uncertain temper. O'Donnell laughed off all their expostulations and
warnings, and said that in so far as his friend was a stranger and
afflicted with a bad temper, there was all the more reason why someone
should do him any little kindness he could.
But the people of Rathclare shook their heads gravely at the young
man's temerity, and prophesied that no good would come to O'Donnell of
this connection. They did not like this foreigner, with his strange
ways and mysterious retirements into himself. They were free and
open-hearted themselves, and they liked free and open-hearted souls
like O'Donnell. They did not like swarthy skins; and now and then in
the newspapers they read that men with swarthy skins drew knives and
struck their dearest friends; that foreigners were treacherous, and
not to be trusted with the lives, into the homes, or with the honour
of law-abiding folk. They knew, it being a seaport, that foreigners
spoke a gibberish which they affected to understand, and which was in
reality no better than the language of Satan. Once a Greek, an
infamous Greek, had been hanged in their town for an intolerable crime
of cruelty committed on board ship; and somehow, ever since then, all
foreigners, particularly swarthy foreigners, seemed in their eyes
peculiarly prone to atrocious cruelties.
What a luxury it must have been for this swarthy man of uncertain
temper to meet and speak with Ellen Creagh, who was the very
embodiment of all that is fair in the rich, warm sense of fairness in
the North; and free in the sense of all that is open and joyous, and
full of abounding confidence, in the North!
During the fortnight in which he had been admitted to what he
considered the infinite privilege of her society, he had fallen
helplessly, hopelessly, madly in love. He had drunk in the subtle
poison of her beauty with an avidity almost intolerable to himself.
All the poetry and passion of his nature had gone forth ceaselessly
towards that girl, as only the poetry and passion of southern blood
can go forth. The violence of his feelings had astonished even
himself. These feelings had grown all the more intense by the fierce
repression in which he had kept them. For until that day in the boat
he had never seemed to take more than a passing, polite interest in
Ellen. Even then, in his dark and self-restrained nature, he had given
no indication of the struggle within. The frenzy of his worship found
no expression, and he took his dismissal with as much apparent
indifference as though he had put the question to her merely out of
regard to the wishes of others.
Yet when he said the words, "I am a ruined man," he meant the words,
or rather he meant that he was determined to take an active part in
his own destruction.
"If I die," he thought, "what is death to me? The sun is dead, the
moon is dead, the stars are dead, earth is dead, and perdition will be
a release from this valley of phantoms. When life is not worth living,
why should one live? I will not live. I have no cause against her, but
I have cause against myself, for I am a failure."
He had determined to make away with himself; he had made up his mind
that he would not survive this terrible disappointment; he would go
home that night and take some painless and swift poison, and so pass
out of this vain world to the unknown beyond; he would not declare his
intention to anyone, least of all to O'Donnell, whose voice he
recognised in the second stanza of the song; he knew where he could
get the poison--from a friendly apothecary. They would hold an inquest
on him, no doubt, and discover that he had done himself to death. Her
name might even get mixed up in the affair, but he could not help
that. He meant to do her no harm; he simply could not and would not
endure.
When that meeting took place on the beach, whereat he introduced Ellen
to O'Donnell, he had noticed the latter's start of amazed admiration.
"What," thought Lavirotte, "is he hit too; he, the invincible! he, the
adamantine man, who has hitherto withstood all the charms of her
lovely sex? It would be curious to watch this. Will he too make love,
and fail--succeed? Ah."
When this thought first occurred to Lavirotte he paused in a dim,
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COMPLIMENTS OF THE AUTHOR TO
[Illustration: Anson Mills]
[Illustration: Hannah Cassel Mills]
MY STORY
BY
ANSON MILLS
BRIGADIER GENERAL, U. S. A.
EDITED BY C. H. CLAUDY
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR
1918
PRESS OF BYRON S. ADAMS
WASHINGTON, D. C.
COPYRIGHT 1918
BY ANSON MILLS, BRIG.-GEN. U. S. A.
CONTENTS
FIRST PERIOD
PAGE
My Ancestors 25
Privations of the Early Pioneers 31
Charlotteville Academy 37
West Point Military Academy 41
Early Days in Texas 48
El Paso Experiences 51
In Washington 64
My Brothers in Texas 69
SECOND PERIOD
Four Years of Civil War 78
After the War 102
Marriage 114
THIRD PERIOD
Travels West and East 123
Nannie's Impressions of the West 135
Western Experiences 152
Detail to Paris Exposition 177
Out West Again 186
Brevet Commissions in the Army 209
In Washington Again 213
Consolidation of the El Paso and Juarez Street Railways 251
The Reformation of El Paso | 211.157424 | 965 |
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[Illustration: The Mihrab of the Mosque of Roustem Pasha, Showing
Persian Tiles.]
CONSTANTINOPLE.
BY
EDMONDO DE AMICIS,
AUTHOR OF “HOLLAND,” “SPAIN AND THE SPANIARDS,” ETC.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FIFTEENTH ITALIAN EDITION BY
MARIA HORNOR LANSDALE.
ILLUSTRATED.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
PHILADELPHIA:
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
1896.
COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY
HENRY T. COATES & CO.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE ARRIVAL 7
FIVE HOURS LATER 33
THE BRIDGE 43
STAMBUL 59
ALONG THE GOLDEN HORN 85
THE GREAT BAZÂR 121
LIFE IN CONSTANTINOPLE 159
ST. SOPHIA 247
DOLMABÂGHCHEH 279
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME I.
Photogravures by W. H. GILBO.
PAGE
THE MIHRAB OF THE MOSQUE OF ROUSTEM PASHA, SHOWING PERSIAN TILES
_Frontispiece._
MOSQUES OF SULTAN AHMED AND ST. SOPHIA 21
VIEW OF PERA AND GALATA 29
ANCIENT FOUNTAIN 39
BRIDGE OF GALATA 45
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THE SECRET ROSE:
By W.B. Yeats
THE SECRET ROSE:
DEDICATION TO A.E.
TO THE SECRET ROSE
THE CRUCIFIXION OF THE OUTCAST
OUT OF THE ROSE
THE WISDOM OF THE KING
THE HEART OF THE SPRING
THE CURSE OF THE FIRES AND OF THE SHADOWS
THE OLD MEN OF THE TWILIGHT
WHERE THERE IS NOTHING, THERE IS GOD
OF COSTELLO THE PROUD, OF OONA THE DAUGHTER OF DERMOTT, AND OF THE
BITTER TONGUE
As for living, our servants will do that for us.--_Villiers de L'Isle
Adam._
Helen, when she looked in her mirror, seeing the withered wrinkles
made in her face by old age, wept, and wondered why she had twice been
carried away.--_Leonardo da Vinci_.
_My dear A.E.--I dedicate this book to you because, whether you think
it well or ill written, you will sympathize with the sorrows and
the ecstasies of its personages, perhaps even more than I do myself.
Although I wrote these stories at different times and in different
manners, and without any definite plan, they have but one subject, the
war of spiritual with natural order; and how can I dedicate such a book
to anyone but to you, the one poet of modern Ireland who has moulded
a spiritual ecstasy into verse? My friends in Ireland sometimes ask me
when I am going to write a really national poem or romance, and by a
national poem or romance I understand them to mean a poem or romance
founded upon some famous moment of Irish history, and built up out of
the thoughts and feelings which move the greater number of patriotic
Irishmen. I on the other hand believe that poetry and romance cannot
be made by the most conscientious study of famous moments and of the
thoughts and feelings of others, but only by looking into that little,
infinite, faltering, eternal flame that we call ourselves. If a writer
wishes to interest a certain people among whom he has grown up, or
fancies he has a duty towards them, he may choose for the symbols of his
art their legends, their history, their beliefs, their opinions, because
he has a right to choose among things less than himself, but he cannot
choose among the substances of art. So far, however, as this book is
visionary it is Irish for Ireland, which is still predominantly Celtic,
has preserved with some less excellent things a gift of vision, which
has died out among more hurried and more successful nations: no shining
candelabra have prevented us from looking into the darkness, and when
one looks into the darkness there is always something there.
W.B. YEATS._
TO THE SECRET ROSE
Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee at the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
Among pale eyelids heavy with the sleep
Men have named beauty. Your great leaves enfold
The ancient beards, the helms of ruby and gold
Of the crowned Magi; and the king whose eyes
Saw the Pierced Hands and Rood of Elder rise
In druid vapour and make the torches dim;
Till vain frenzy awoke and he died; and him
Who met Fand walking among flaming dew,
By a grey shore where the wind never blew,
And lost the world and Emir for a kiss;
And him who drove the gods out of their liss
And till a hundred morns had flowered red
Feasted, and wept the barrows of his dead;
And the proud dreaming king who flung the crown
And sorrow away, and calling bard and clown
Dwelt among wine-stained wanderers in deep woods;
And him who sold tillage and house and goods,
And sought through lands and islands numberless years
Until he found with laughter and with tears
A woman of so shining loveliness
That men threshed corn at midnight by a tress,
A little stolen tress. I too await
The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?
THE CRUCIFIXION OF THE OUTCAST.
A man, with thin brown hair and a pale face, half ran, half walked,
along the road that wound from the south to the town of Sligo. Many
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THE DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS M.A. F.R.S.
CLERK OF THE ACTS AND SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY
TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SHORTHAND MANUSCRIPT IN THE PEPYSIAN LIBRARY
MAGDALENE COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE BY THE REV. MYNORS BRIGHT M.A. LATE FELLOW
AND PRESIDENT OF THE COLLEGE
(Unabridged)
WITH LORD BRAYBROOKE'S NOTES
EDITED WITH ADDITIONS BY
HENRY B. WHEATLEY F.S.A.
DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS.
NOVEMBER & DECEMBER
1665
November 1st. Lay very long in bed discoursing with Mr. Hill of most
things of a man's life, and how little merit do prevail in the world, but
only favour; and that, for myself, chance without merit brought me in; and
that diligence only keeps me so, and will, living as I do among so many
lazy people that the diligent man becomes necessary, that they cannot do
anything without him, and so told him of my late business of the
victualling, and what cares I am in to keepe myself having to do with
people of so different factions at Court, and yet must be fair with them
all, which was very pleasant discourse for me to tell, as well as he
seemed to take it, for him to hear. At last up, and it being a very foule
day for raine and a hideous wind, yet having promised I would go by water
to Erith, and bearing sayle was in | 211.44358 | 968 |
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Old-World Japan
Legends of the Land of the
Gods + + Re-told by Frank
Rinder + With Illustrations
by T. H. Robinson
"The spirit of Japan is as the
fragrance of the wild cherry-blossom
in the dawn of the
rising sun"
London: George Allen
156 Charing Cross Road
1895
Old-World Japan
[Illustration: Publisher's device]
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press
Preface
History and mythology, fact and fable, are closely interwoven in the
texture of Japanese life and thought; indeed, it is within relatively
recent years only that exact comparative criticism has been able, with
some degree of accuracy, to divide the one from the other. The
accounts of the God-period contained in the Kojiki and the
Nihongi--"Records of Ancient Matters" compiled in the eighth century
of the Christian era--profess to outline the events of the vast cycles
of years from the time of Ame-no-mi-naka-nushi-no-kami's birth in the
Plain of High Heaven, "when the earth, young and like unto floating
oil, drifted about medusa-like," to the death of the Empress Suiko,
A.D. 628.
The first six tales in this little volume are founded on some of the
most significant and picturesque incidents of this God-period. The
opening legend gives a brief relation of the birth of several of the
great Shinto deities, of the creation of Japan and of the world, of
the Orpheus-like descent of Izanagi to Hades, and of his subsequent
fight with the demons.
That Chinese civilisation has exercised a profound influence on that
of Japan, cannot be doubted. A scholar of repute has indicated that
evidence of this is to be found even in writings so early as the
Kojiki and the Nihongi. To give a single instance only: the curved
jewels, of which the remarkable necklace of Ama-terasu was made, have
never been found in Japan, whereas the stones are not uncommon in
China.
This is not the place critically to consider the wealth of myth,
legend, fable, and folk-tale to be found scattered throughout Japanese
literature, and represented in Japanese art: suffice it to say, that
to the student and the lover of primitive romance, there are here
vast fields practically unexplored.
The tales contained in this volume have been selected with a view
rather to their beauty and charm of incident and colour, than with the
aim to represent adequately the many-sided subject of Japanese lore.
Moreover, those only have been chosen which are not familiar to the
English-reading public. Several of the classic names of Japan have
been interpolated in the text. It remains to say that, in order not to
weary the reader, it has been found necessary to abbreviate the
many-syllabled Japanese names.
The sources from which I have drawn are too numerous to particularise.
To Professor Basil Hall Chamberlain, whose intimate and scholarly
knowledge of all matters Japanese is well known, my thanks are
especially due, as also the expression of my indebtedness to other
writers in English, from Mr. A. B. Mitford to Mr. Lafcadio Hearn,
whose volumes on "Unfamiliar Japan" appeared last year. The careful
text of Dr. David Brauns, and the studies of F. A. Junker von
Langegg, have also been of great service. The works of numerous French
writers on Japanese art have likewise been consulted with advantage.
FRANK RINDER.
Contents
PAGE
THE BIRTH-TIME OF THE GODS 1
THE SUN-GODDESS 15
THE HEAVENLY MESSENGERS 25
PRINCE RUDDY-PLENTY 35
THE PALACE OF THE OCEAN-BED 45
AUTUMN AND SPRING 57
THE STAR-LOVERS 67
THE ISLAND OF ETERNAL YOUTH 77
RAI-TARO, THE SON OF THE THUNDER-GOD 87
THE SOULS OF THE CHILDREN 97
THE MOON-MAIDEN 103
THE GREAT FIR TREE OF TAKASAGO 113
THE WILLOW OF MUKOCHIMA 121
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 129
THE VISION OF TSUNU 141
PRINCESS FIRE-FLY 151
THE SPARROW'S WEDDING 161
THE LOVE OF THE SNOW-WHITE FOX 171
NEDZUMI 181
KOMA AND GON 189
List of Illustrations
PAGE
Heading to "The Birth-Time of the Gods" 3
_When he had so said, he plunged his jewelled spear
into the seething mass below_ 5
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[Transcriber's Note: Every effort has been made to replicate this
text as faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant
spellings and other inconsistencies. Text that has been changed to
correct an obvious error is noted at the end of this ebook.]
CROSSING THE PLAINS
DAYS OF '57
A NARRATIVE OF EARLY EMIGRANT TRAVEL
TO CALIFORNIA BY THE
OX-TEAM METHOD
BY
WM. AUDLEY MAXWELL
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
WM AUDLEY MAXWELL
SUNSET PUBLISHING HOUSE
SAN FRANCISCO MCMXV
[Illustration: | 211.60901 | 970 |
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[Transcriber's note: Original spelling variations have not been
standardized. Characters with macrons have been marked in brackets with
an equal sign, as [=e] for a letter e with a macron on top; the
paragraph sign is shown by [p]. Underscores have been used to indicate
_italic_ fonts. A list of volumes and pages in "Notes and Queries" has
been added at the end.]
NOTES AND QUERIES:
A MEDIUM OF INTER-COMMUNICATION
FOR
LITERARY MEN, ARTISTS, ANTIQUARIES, GENEALOGISTS, ETC.
"When found, make a note of."--Captain Cuttle.
VOL. V.--No. 120. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 14. 1852.
Price Fourpence. Stamped Edition, 5_d._
CONTENTS.
Page
NOTES:--
The Old Countess of Desmond 145
The Imperial Eagle of France 147
Folk Lore:--Valentine's Day--Nottingham Hornblowing--Bee
Superstitions; Blessing Apple-trees;
"A Neck! a Neck!"--Hooping Cough 148
Note on the Coins of Vabalathus 148
The Agnomen of "Brother Jonathan," of Masonic
Origin 149
Minor Notes:--Hippopotamus, Behemoth--Curious
Inscription--Coins of Edward III. struck at Antwerp
in 1337 149
QUERIES:--
Is the Walrus found in the Baltic? 150
English Free Towns, by J. H. Parker 150
Minor Queries:--Bishop Hall's Resolutions--Mother
Huff and Mother Damnable--Sir Samuel Garth--German's
Lips--Richard Leveridge--Thomas Durfey--Audley
Family--Ink--Mistletoe excluded from
Churches--Blind taught to read--Hyrne, Meaning of--The
fairest Attendant of the Scottish Queen--"Soud,
soud, soud, soud!"--Key Experiments--Shield
of Hercules--"Sum Liber, et non sum," &c. 150
MINOR QUERIES ANSWERED:--Whipping a Husband;
Hudibras--Aldus--"The last links are broken"--Under
Weigh or Way--The Pope's Eye--"History
is Philosophy" 152
REPLIES:--
Coverdale's Bible, by George Offor 153
"As Stars with Trains of Fire," &c.,
by Samuel Hickson 154
Dials, Dial Mottoes, &c. 155
Can Bishops vacate their Sees? 156
Character of a True Churchman 156
Wearing Gloves in Presence of Royalty 157
Gospel Oaks 157
The Pendulum Demonstration 158
Expurgated Quaker Bible, by Archdeacon Cotton 158
Junius Rumours 159
Wady Mokatteb not mentioned in Num. xi. 26.,
by Rev. Dr. Todd 159
Replies to Minor Queries:--Rotten Row--"Preached from a
Pulpit rather than a Tub"--Olivarius--Slavery in Scotland
--Cibber's Lives of the Poets--Theoloneum--John of
Padua--Stoke--Eliza Fenning--Ghost Stories--Autographs of
Weever and Fuller--Lines on the Bible--Hell-rake--Family
Likenesses--Grimsdyke--Portraits of Wolfe, &c. 160
MISCELLANEOUS:--
Notes on Books, &c. 166
Books and Odd Volumes wanted 166
Notices to Correspondents 167
Advertisements 167
Notes.
THE OLD COUNTESS OF DESMOND.
(_Continued from_ Vol. iv., p. 426.)
I feel much obliged to J. H. M., who writes from Bath, and has directed
my attention to Horace Walpole's "minute inquiry" respecting the "Old
Countess of Desmond," as also to "Pennant's Tours," all which I have had
opportunity of examining since I wrote to you last. The references do
not incline me to alter one word of the opinion I have ventured as to
the identity of this lady; on the contrary, with the utmost respect for
his name and services to the cause of antiquarian research, I propose to
show that Horace Walpole (whose interest in the question was, by his own
confession, but incidental, and ancillary to his historic inquiries into
the case of Richard III., and who had no direct data to go on) knew
nothing of the matter, and was quite mistaken as to the individual.
Before I proceed on this daring undertaking, I beg to say, that an
inspection of Pennant's print, called "The Old Countess of Desmond,"
_satisfies_ me that it is _not_ taken from a duplicate picture of that
in possession of the Knight of Kerry: though there certainly is a
resemblance in the faces of the two portraits, yet the differences are
many and decisive. Pennant says that there are "four other pictures in
Great Britain in the same dress, and without any difference of feature,"
besides that at Dupplin Castle, from which his print was copied; but
that of the Knight of Kerry must be reckoned as a sixth portrait, taken
at a _much more advanced period_ of life: in it the wrinkles and
features denote _extreme_ old age. The head-dresses are markedly
different, that of Pennant being a _cloth_ hood lying back from the face
in folds; in the Knight of Kerry's, the head-dress is more like a beaver
bonnet standing forward from the head, and throwing the face somewhat
into shade. In Pennant's, the cloak is plainly fastened by leathern
strap, somewhat after the manner of a laced shoe; in the other, the
fastening is a single button: but the difference most marked is this,
that the persons originally sitting for these pictures, looked opposite
ways, and, of course, presented different sides to the painter. So that,
in Pennant's plate, the _right side-face_ is forward; and in the other,
the left: therefore, these pictures are markedly and manifestly neither
the same, nor copies either of the other.
It does not concern us, in order to maintain the authority of our
_Irish_ picture, to follow up the question at issue between Pennant and
Walpole but I may here observe, that either must be wrong in an
important matter of fact. Walpole, in a note to his "Fugitive Pieces"
(Lord Orford's _Works_, vol. i. p. 210-17.), writes thus: "_Having by
permission of the Lord Chamberlain obtained a copy of the picture at
Windsor Castle, called The Countess of Desmond, I discovered that it is
not her portrait; on the back is written in an old hand, 'The Mother of
Rembrandt.'_" He then proceeds to prove the identity of this picture
with one given to King Charles I. by Sir Robert Car, "My Lord Ankrom"
(after Duke of Roxburg), and set down in the Windsor Catalogue as
"_Portrait of an old woman, with a great scarf on her head, by
Rembrandt_." Pennant's note differs from this in an essential
particular; he mentions this picture at Windsor Castle thus: "_This was
a present from Sir Robert Car, Earl of Roxburg, as is signified on the
back; above it is written with a pen,_ 'REMBRANDT' (not a word of his
_mother_), _which must be a mistake, for Rembrandt was not fourteen
years of age in 1614_, at a time when _it is certain (?) that the
Countess was not living, and... it does not appear that he ever visited
England_."
The discrepancy of these two accounts is obvious--if it "_be written in
an old hand, 'The Mother of Rembrandt,'_" on the back of the picture, it
seems strange that Pennant should _omit_ the first three words; if they
be not so written, it seems equally strange that Walpole should venture
to _add_ them. I presume the picture at Windsor is still extant; and
probably some reader of "N. & Q." having access to it, will be so good
as to settle the question of accuracy and veracity between two
gentlemen, of whom one must be guilty of _suppressio veri_, or the other
of _suggestio falsi_.
Horace Walpole, or his editor, must have corrected his "Fugitive Pieces"
since the "Strawberry Hill edition," to which J. H. M. refers, was
printed; for in the edition I have consulted, instead of saying "I can
make no sense of the word _noie_," the meaning is correctly given in a
foot-note to the inscription; and the passage given by J. H. M. is
altogether omitted from the text.
I must now proceed in my bold attempt to show that Horace Walpole knew
nothing of a matter, into which he made a "minute inquiry." This may
seem presumptuous in a tyro towards one of the old masters of
antiquarian lore and research; but I plead in apology the great advance
of the science since Horace Walpole's days, and the greater plenty of
materials for forming or correcting a judgement. It has been well said,
that a single chapter of Mr. Charles Knight's _Old England_ would full
furnish and set up an antiquarian of the last century; and this is true,
such and so many are the advantages for obtaining information, which we
modern antiquaries possess over those who are gone before us; and
lastly, to quote old Fuller's quaintness, I would say that "a dwarf on a
giant's shoulders can see farther than he who carries him:" thus do I
explain and excuse my attempt to impugn the conclusion of Horace
Walpole.
Walpole's first conjectures applied to a Countess of Desmond, whose tomb
is at Sligo in Ireland, and who was widow to that _Gerald_, the
sixteenth earl, _ingens rebellibus exemplar_, who was outlawed, and
killed in the wood of _Glanagynty_, in the county of Kerry, A.D. 1583.
Walpole applied to an Irish correspondent for copies of the inscriptions
on her tomb; but we need not follow or discuss the supposition of her
identity with | 211.635999 | 971 |
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Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer,
Ernest Schaal and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 107.
JUNE 21, 1894.
* * * * *
A RIVERSIDE LAMENT.
In my garden, where the rose
By the hundred gaily blows,
And the river freshly flows
Close to me,
I can spend the summer day
In a quite idyllic way;
Simply charming, you would say,
Could you see.
I am far from stuffy town,
Where the soots meander down,
And the air seems--being brown--
Close to me.
I am far from rushing train;
_Bradshaw_ does not bore my brain,
Nor, comparatively plain,
_A B C_.
To my punt I can repair,
If the weather's fairly fair,
But one grievance I have there;
Close to me,
As I sit and idly dream,
Clammy corpses ever seem
Floating down the placid stream
To the sea.
Though the boats that crowd the lock--
Such an animated block!--
Bring gay damsels, quite a flock,
Close to me,
Yet I heed not tasty togs,
When, as motionless as logs,
Float defunct and dismal dogs
There _aussi_.
As in Egypt at a feast,
With each party comes at least
One sad corpse, departed beast,
Close to me;
Till a Canon might go off,
Till a Dean might swear or | 211.777182 | 972 |
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Produced by Sue Asscher
ION
By Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION.
The Ion is the shortest, or nearly the shortest, of all the writings
which bear the name of Plato, and is not authenticated by any early
external testimony. The grace and beauty of this little work supply the
only, and perhaps a sufficient, proof of its genuineness. The plan is
simple; the dramatic interest consists entirely in the contrast
between the irony of Socrates and the transparent vanity and childlike
enthusiasm of the rhapsode Ion. The theme of the Dialogue may possibly
have been suggested by the passage of Xenophon's Memorabilia in which
the rhapsodists are described by Euthydemus as'very precise about the
exact words of Homer, but very idiotic themselves.' (Compare Aristotle,
Met.)
Ion the rhapsode has just come to Athens; he has been exhibiting in
Epidaurus at the festival of Asclepius, and is intending to exhibit
at the festival of the Panathenaea. Socrates admires and envies the
rhapsode's art; for he is always well dressed and in good company--in
the company of good poets and of Homer, who is the prince of them. In
the course of conversation the admission is elicited from Ion that his
skill is restricted to Homer, and that he knows nothing of inferior
poets, such as Hesiod and Archilochus;--he brightens up and is wide
awake when Homer is being recited, but is apt to go to sleep at the
recitations of any other poet. 'And yet, surely, he who knows the
superior ought to know the inferior also;--he who can judge of the good
speaker is able to judge of the bad. And poetry is a whole; and he
who judges of poetry by rules of art ought to be able to judge of
all poetry.' This is confirmed by the analogy of sculpture, painting,
flute-playing, and the other arts. The argument is at last brought home
to the mind of Ion, who asks how this contradiction is to be solved. The
solution given by Socrates is as follows:--
The rhapsode is not guided by rules of art, but is an inspired person
who derives a mysterious power from the poet; and the poet, in like
manner, is inspired by the God. The poets and their interpreters may be
compared to a chain of magnetic rings suspended from one another, and
from a magnet. The magnet is the Muse, and the ring which immediately
follows is the poet himself; from him are suspended other poets; there
is also a chain of rhapsodes and actors, who also hang from the Muses,
but are let down at the side; and the last ring of all is the spectator.
The poet is the inspired interpreter of the God, and this is the reason
why some poets, like Homer, are restricted to a single theme, or,
like Tynnichus, are famous for a single poem; and the rhapsode is
the inspired interpreter of the poet, and for a similar reason some
rhapsodes, like Ion, are the interpreters of single poets.
Ion is delighted at the notion of being inspired, and acknowledges that
he is beside himself when he is performing;--his eyes rain tears and his
hair stands on end. Socrates is of opinion that a man must be mad who
behaves in this way at a festival when he is surrounded by his friends
and there is nothing to trouble him. Ion is confident that Socrates
would never think him mad if he could only hear his embellishments
of Homer. Socrates asks whether he can speak well about everything
in Homer. 'Yes, indeed he can.' 'What about things of which he has no
knowledge?' Ion answers that he can interpret anything in Homer. But,
rejoins Socrates, when Homer speaks of the arts, as for example, of
chariot-driving, or of medicine, or of prophecy, or of navigation--will
he, or will the charioteer or physician or prophet or pilot be the
better judge? Ion is compelled to admit that every man will judge of
his own particular art better than the rhapsode. He still maintains,
however, that he understands the art of the general as well as any one.
'Then why in this city of Athens, in which men of merit are always being
sought after, is he not at once appointed a general?' Ion replies that
he is a foreigner, and the Athenians and Spartans will not appoint a
foreigner to be their general. 'No, that is not the real reason; there
are many examples to the contrary. But Ion has long been playing tricks
with the argument; like Proteus, he transforms himself into a variety of
shapes, and is at last about to run away in the disguise of a general.
Would he rather be regarded as inspired or dishonest?' Ion, who has no
suspicion of the irony of Socrates, eagerly embraces the alternative of
inspiration.
The Ion, like the other earlier Platonic Dialogues, is a | 211.804381 | 973 |
2023-11-16 18:19:18.4862560 | 405 | 142 | SCHOOL ***
Produced by Al Haines.
BOBBY BLAKE
at Rockledge School
_By_
FRANK A. WARNER
_Author of_
"BOBBY BLAKE AT BASS COVE"
"BOBBY BLAKE ON A CRUISE," Etc.
WHITMAN PUBLISHING CO.
RACINE, WISCONSIN
Copyright, MCMXV, by
BARSE & CO.
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. "The Overland Limited"
II. Apples and Applethwaite Plunkit
III. Fred in Trouble
IV. An Eventful Afternoon
V. The Tale of a Scarecrow
VI. A Fish Fry and a Startling Announcement
VII. Financial Affairs
VIII. The Peep-Show
IX. Off for Rockledge
X. New Surroundings
XI. Getting Acquainted
XII. In the Dormitory
XIII. The Poguey Fight
XIV. The Honor Medal
XV. Getting Into Step
XVI. Hot Potatoes
XVII. Lost at Sea
XVIII. The Bloody Corner
XIX. The Result
XX. On the Brink of War
XXI. Give and Take
XXII. What Bobby Said
XXIII. Good News Travels Slowly
XXIV. Red Hair Stands for More Than Temper
XXV. The Winner
BOBBY BLAKE AT ROCKLEDGE SCHOOL
CHAPTER I
"THE OVERLAND LIMITED"
A boy of about ten, with a freckled face and fiery red hair cropped
close to his head, came doubtfully up the side porch steps of the Blake
house in Clinton and peered through the | 211.805666 | 974 |
2023-11-16 18:19:18.5354070 | 181 | 119 |
Produced by Bryan Ness 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.)
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
1. Quotes, parentheses and other punctuation are sometimes missing or
missplaced in the original. These have been made consistent with
modern convention.
2. Apostrophes, where missing in the original, have been added.
3. Footnotes have been numbered sequentially and moved to the end
the book.
4. Misspelled words have been corrected and such changes noted at the
end of the book.
THE
PENNYLES
PILGRIMAGE,
OR
The Money-lesse perambulation,
of JOHN TAYLOR, _Alias_
the Kings Majesties
_Water-Po | 211.854817 | 975 |
2023-11-16 18:19:18.6205980 | 910 | 60 |
Produced by David Widger. HTML version by Al Haines.
MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
A VIRTUOSO'S COLLECTION
The other day, having a leisure hour at my disposal, I stepped into
a new museum, to which my notice was casually drawn by a small and
unobtrusive sign: "TO BE SEEN HERE, A VIRTUOSO'S COLLECTION." Such
was the simple yet not altogether unpromising announcement that
turned my steps aside for a little while from the sunny sidewalk of
our principal thoroughfare. Mounting a sombre staircase, I pushed
open a door at its summit, and found myself in the presence of a
person, who mentioned the moderate sum that would entitle me to
admittance.
"Three shillings, Massachusetts tenor," said he. "No, I mean half a
dollar, as you reckon in these days."
While searching my pocket for the coin I glanced at the doorkeeper,
the marked character and individuality of whose aspect encouraged me
to expect something not quite in the ordinary way. He wore an
old-fashioned great-coat, much faded, within which his meagre person
was so completely enveloped that the rest of his attire was
undistinguishable. But his visage was remarkably wind-flushed,
sunburnt, and weather-worn, and had a most, unquiet, nervous, and
apprehensive expression. It seemed as if this man had some
all-important object in view, some point of deepest interest to be
decided, some momentous question to ask, might he but hope for a
reply. As it was evident, however, that I could have nothing to do
with his private affairs, I passed through an open doorway, which
admitted me into the extensive hall of the museum.
Directly in front of the portal was the bronze statue of a youth
with winged feet. He was represented in the act of flitting away
from earth, yet wore such a look of earnest invitation that it
impressed me like a summons to enter the hall.
"It is the original statue of Opportunity, by the ancient sculptor
Lysippus," said a gentleman who now approached me. "I place it at
the entrance of my museum, because it is not at all times that one
can gain admittance to such a collection."
The speaker was a middle-aged person, of whom it was not easy to
determine whether he had spent his life as a scholar or as a man of
action; in truth, all outward and obvious peculiarities had been
worn away by an extensive and promiscuous intercourse with the
world. There was no mark about him of profession, individual
habits, or scarcely of country; although his dark complexion and
high features made me conjecture that he was a native of some
southern clime of Europe. At all events, he was evidently the
virtuoso in person.
"With your permission," said he, "as we have no descriptive
catalogue, I will accompany you through the museum and point out
whatever may be most worthy of attention. In the first place, here
is a choice collection of stuffed animals."
Nearest the door stood the outward semblance of a wolf, exquisitely
prepared, it is true, and showing a very wolfish fierceness in the
large glass eyes which were inserted into its wild and crafty head.
Still it was merely the skin of a wolf, with nothing to distinguish
it from other individuals of that unlovely breed.
"How does this animal deserve a place in your collection?" inquired
I.
"It is the wolf that devoured Little Red Riding Hood," answered the
virtuoso; "and by his side--with a milder and more matronly look, as
you perceive--stands the she-wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus."
"Ah, indeed!" exclaimed I. "And what lovely lamb is this with the
snow-white fleece, which seems to be of as delicate a texture as
innocence itself?"
"Methinks you have but carelessly read Spenser," replied my guide,
"or you would at once recognize the'milk-white | 211.940008 | 976 |
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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; [alpha], [beta], etc. for greek
letters.
(6) The following typographical errors have been corrected:
ARTICLE LABYRINTHULIDEA: "From each cyst ultimately emerges a
single amoeba, or more rarely four (figs. 6, 7)." 'amoeba' amended
from 'amoebae'.
ARTICLE LACE: "... upon the lace-making industry in
Buckinghamshire, Bedfordshire and Northamptonshire contains many
illustrations of laces made in these counties from the 17th century
to the present time." 'Bedfordshire' amended from 'Bedforshire'.
ARTICLE LACONIA: "The coast, especially on the east, is rugged and
dangerous." 'especially' amended from 'expecially'.
ARTICLE LA FARGE, JOHN: "Hokusai: A Talk about Hokusai (New York,
1897), and An Artist's Letters from Japan (New York, 1897)."
'Hokusai' amended from 'Hoksuai'.
ARTICLE LAMELLIBRANCHIA: "The series of oval holes on the back of
the lamella are the water-pores which open between the filaments in
irregular rows separated horizontally by the transverse
inter-filamentar junctions." 'filamentar' amended from 'filmentar'.
THE
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
ELEVENTH EDITION
FIRST edition, published in three volumes, 1768-1771.
SECOND " " ten " 1777-1784.
THIRD " " eighteen " 1788-1797.
FOURTH " " twenty " 1801-1810.
FIFTH " " twenty " 1815-1817.
SIXTH " " twenty " 1823-1824.
SEVENTH " " twenty-one " 1830-1842.
EIGHTH " " twenty-two " 1853-1860.
NINTH " " twenty-five " 1875-1889.
TENTH " ninth edition and eleven
supplementary volumes, 1902-1903.
ELEVENTH " published in twenty-nine volumes, 1910-1911.
COPYRIGHT
in all countries subscribing to the Bern Convention
by
THE CHANCELLOR, MASTERS AND SCHOLARS
of the
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
_All rights reserved_
THE
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
A DICTIONARY OF
ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE AND GENERAL INFORMATION
ELEVENTH EDITION
VOLUME XVI
L to LORD ADVOCATE
New York
Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc.
342 Madison Avenue
Copyright, in the United States of America, 1910,
by
The Encyclopaedia Britannica Company.
VOLUME XVI, SLICE I
L to Lamellibranchia
ARTICLES IN THIS SLICE:
L LA FARINA, GIUSEPPE
LAACHER SEE LA FAYETTE, GILBERT MOTIER DE
LAAGER LA FAYETTE, LOUISE DE
LAAS, ERNST LA FAYETTE, ROCH GILBERT DU MOTIER
LA BADIE, JEAN DE LA FAYETTE, PIOCHE DE LA VERGNE
LABEL LAFAYETTE
LABEO, MARCUS ANTISTIUS LA FERTE
LABERIUS, DECIMUS LA FERTE-BERNARD
LABIATAE LA FERTE-MILON
LABICANA, VIA LAFFITTE, JACQUES
LABICHE, EUGENE MARIN LAFFITTE, PIERRE
LABICI LA FLECHE
LABID LAFONT, PIERRE CHERI
LABIENUS LA FONTAINE, JEAN DE
LABLACHE, LUIGI LAFONTAINE, SIR LOUIS HIPPOLYTE
LABOR DAY LAFOSSE, CHARLES DE
LA BOURBOULE LAGARDE, PAUL ANTON DE
LABOUR CHURCH, THE LAGASH
LA BOURDONNAIS, FRANCOIS LAGHMAN
LABOUR EXCHANGE LAGOON
LABOUR LEGISLATION LAGOS (province of Nigeria)
LABOUR PARTY LAGOS (seaport of Nigeria)
LABRADOR LAGOS (seaport of Portugal)
LABRADORITE LA GRACE
LABRADOR TEA LA GRAND' COMBE
LABRUM LAGRANGE, JOSEPH LOUIS
LA BRUYERE, JEAN DE LAGRANGE-CHANCEL, FRANCOIS JOSEPH
LABUAN LA GRANJA
LABURNUM LAGRENEE, LOUIS JEAN FRANCOIS
LABYRINTH LA GUAIRA
LABYRINTHULIDEA LA GUERONNIERE, DUBREUIL HELION
LAC LAGUERRE, JEAN HENRI GEORGES
LACAILLE, NICOLAS LOUIS DE LAGUNA
LACAITA, SIR JAMES LA HARPE, JEAN FRANCOIS DE
LA CALLE LAHIRE, LAURENT DE
LA CALPRENEDE, COSTES LAHN
LA CARLOTA LAHNDA
LACCADIVE ISLANDS LA HOGUE, BATTLE OF
LACCOLITE LAHORE
LACE LA HOZ Y MOTA, JUAN CLAUDIO DE
LACE-BARK TREE LAHR
LACEDAEMON LAIBACH
LACEPEDE, BERNARD DE LA VILLE LAIDLAW, WILLIAM
LACEWING-FLY LAING, ALEXANDER GORDON
LA CHAISE, FRANCOIS DE LAING, DAVID
LA CHAISE-DIEU LAING, MALCOLM
LA CHALOTAIS, DE CARADEUC DE LAING, SAMUEL
LA CHARITE LAING'S NEK
LA CHAUSSEE, NIVELLE DE LAIRD, MACGREGOR
LACHES LAIS
LACHINE LAISANT, CHARLES ANNE
LACHISH LAI-YANG
LACHMANN, FRIEDRICH WILHELM LAKANAL, JOSEPH
LACINIUM, PROMUNTURIUM LAKE, GERARD LAKE
LA CIOTAT LAKE
LA CLOCHE, JAMES DE LAKE CHARLES
LA CONDAMINE, CHARLES MARIE DE LAKE CITY
LACONIA (Peloponnese district) LAKE DISTRICT
LACONIA (New Hampshire, U.S.A.) LAKE DWELLINGS
LACONICUM LAKE GENEVA
LACORDAIRE, JEAN BAPTISTE HENRI LAKE OF THE WOODS
LACQUER LAKE PLACID
LACRETELLE, PIERRE LOUIS DE LAKEWOOD
LACROIX, ANTOINE FRANCOIS ALFRED LAKH
LACROIX, PAUL LAKHIMPUR
LACROMA LAKSHMI
LA CROSSE LALAING, JACQUES DE
LACROSSE LALANDE, JOSEPH JEROME LEFRANCAIS DE
LA CRUZ, RAMON DE LALIN
LACRYMATORY LA LINEA
LACTANTIUS FIRMIANUS LALITPUR
LACTIC ACID LALLY, THOMAS ARTHUR
LACTONES LALLY-TOLLENDAL, TROPHIME GERARD
LA CUEVA, JUAN DE LALO, EDOUARD
LACUNAR LA MADDALENA
LACUZON LAMAISM
LACY, FRANZ MORITZ LAMALOU-LES-BAINS
LACY, HARRIETTE DEBORAH LAMA-MIAO
LACY, MICHAEL ROPHINO LAMAR, LUCIUS QUINTUS CINCINNATUS
LACYDES OF CYRENE LAMARCK, ANTOINE DE MONET
LADAKH AND BALTISTAN LA MARGHERITA, CLEMENTE SOLARO
LADD, GEORGE TRUMBULL LA MARMORA, ALFONSO FERRERO
LADDER LAMARTINE, LOUIS DE PRAT DE
LADING LAMB, CHARLES
LADISLAUS I LAMB
LADISLAUS IV. LAMBALLE, LOUISE OF SAVOY-CARIGNANO
LADISLAUS V. LAMBALLE
LA DIXMERIE, NICOLAS BRICAIRE DE LAMBAYEQUE
LADO ENCLAVE LAMBEAUX, JEF
LADOGA LAMBERMONT, AUGUSTE
LADY LAMBERT, DANIEL
LADYBANK LAMBERT, FRANCIS
LADYBRAND LAMBERT, JOHANN HEINRICH
LADY-CHAPEL LAMBERT, JOHN (English martyr)
LADY DAY LAMBERT, JOHN (English general)
LADYSMITH LAMBERT OF HERSFELD
LAELIUS LAMBESSA
LAENAS LAMBETH
LAER, PIETER VAN LAMBETH CONFERENCES
LAESTRYGONES LAMBINUS, DIONYSIUS
LAETUS, JULIUS POMPONIUS LAMBOURN
LAEVIUS LAMECH
LAEVULINIC ACID LAMEGO
LA FARGE, JOHN LAMELLIBRANCHIA
INITIALS USED IN VOLUME XVI. TO IDENTIFY INDIVIDUAL CONTRIBUTORS,[1]
WITH THE HEADINGS OF THE ARTICLES IN THIS VOLUME SO SIGNED.
A. B. Ch.
A. B. CHATWOOD, B.SC., A.M.INST.C.E., M.INST.ELEC.E.
Lock.
A. B. R.
ALFRED BARTON RENDLE, M.A., D.SC, F.R.S., F.L.S.
Keeper, Department of Botany, British Museum. Author of _Text Book
on Classification of Flowering Plants, &c._
Leaf.
A. C. F.
ALEXANDER CAMPBELL FRASER, LL.D.
See the biographical article: FRASER, A. C.
Locke, John.
A. C. S.
ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE.
See the biographical article: SWINBURNE, A. C.
Landor.
A. D.
HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON, LL.D.
See the biographical article: Dobson, HENRY AUSTIN.
Locker-Lampson.
A. Fi.
PIERRE MARIE AUGUSTE FILON.
See the biographical article: FILON, P. M. A.
Labiche.
A. F. P.
ALBERT FREDERICK POLLARD, M.A., F.R.HIST.SOC.
Professor of English History in the University of London. Fellow
of All Souls' College, Oxford. Assistant editor of the Dictionary
of National Biography, 1893-1901. Lothian Prizeman, Oxford, 1892;
Arnold Prizeman, 1898. Author of _England under the Protector
Somerset_; _Henry VIII._; _Life of Thomas Cranmer_; &c.
Lambert, Francis;
Lambert, Nicholson.
A. Gl.
ARNOLD GLOVER, M.A., LL.B. (d. 1905)
Trinity College, Cambridge; Joint-editor of _Beaumont and
Fletcher_ for the Cambridge University Press.
Layard.
A. Go.*
REV. ALEXANDER GORDON, M.A.
Lecturer in Church History in the University of Manchester.
Laurentius, Paul;
Libertines.
A. G. D.
ARTHUR GEORGE DOUGHTY, C.M.G., M.A., LITT.D., F.R.HIST.S.,
F.R.S.(Canada).
Dominion Archivist of Canada. Member of the Geographical Board of
Canada. Author of _The Cradle of New France_; &c. Joint editor of
_Documents relating to the Constitutional History of Canada_.
Lafontaine.
A. H. S.
REV. ARCHIBALD HENRY SAYCE, LITT.D., LL.D.
See the biographical article: SAYCE, A. H.
Laodicea.
A. J. G.
REV. ALEXANDER JAMES GRIEVE, M.A., B.D.
Professor of New Testament and Church History, Yorkshire United
Independent College, Bradford. Sometime Registrar of Madras
University, and Member of Mysore Educational Service.
Logos (_in part_).
A. J. L.
ANDREW JACKSON LAMOUREUX.
Librarian, College of Agriculture, Cornell University. Editor of
the _Rio News_ (Rio de Janeiro), 1879-1901.
Lima (_Peru_).
A. L.
ANDREW LANG.
See the biographical article: LANG, ANDREW.
La Cloche.
A. M. An.
ADELAIDE MARY ANDERSON, M.A.
H.M. Principal Lady Inspector of Factories, Home Office. Clerk to
the Royal Commission on Labour, 1892-1894. Gamble Gold Medallist,
Girton College, Cambridge, 1893. Author of various articles on
Industrial Life and Legislation, &c.
Labour Legislation.
A. M. C.
AGNES MARY CLERKE.
See the biographical article: CLERKE, A. M.
Lagrange;
Laplace;
Leverrier.
A. N.
ALFRED NEWTON, F.R.S.
See the biographical article: NEWTON, ALFRED.
Lammergeyer;
Lapwing;
Lark;
Linnet;
Loom.
A. P. C.
ARTHUR PHILEMON COLEMAN, M.A., PH.D., F.R.S.
Professor of Geology in the University of Toronto. Geologist,
Bureau of Mines, Toronto, 1893-1910. Author of _Reports of the
Bureau of Mines of Ontario_.
Labrador (_in part_).
A. P. Lo.
ALBERT PETER LOW.
Deputy Minister of Department of Mines, Canada. Member of
Geological Survey of Canada. Author of _Report on the Exploration
in the Labrador Peninsula_; &c.
Labrador (_in part_).
A. Se.*
ADAM SEDGWICK, M.A., F.R.S.
Professor of Zoology at the Imperial College of Science and
Technology, London. Fellow, and formerly Tutor, of Trinity
College, Cambridge. Professor of Zoology in the University of
Cambridge, 1907-1909.
Larval Forms.
A. Sl.
ARTHUR SHADWELL, M.A., M.D., LL.D., F.R.C.P.
Member of Council of Epidemiological Society. Author of _The
London Water-Supply_; _Industrial Efficiency_; _Drink, Temperance
and Legislation_.
Liquor Laws.
A. So.
ALBRECHT SOCIN, PH.D. (1844-1899).
Formerly Professor of Semitic Philology in the Universities of
Leipzig and Tubingen. Author of _Arabische Grammatik_; &c.
Lebanon (_in part_).
A. S. C.
ALAN SUMMERLY COLE, C.B.
Assistant Secretary for Art, Board of Education, 1900-1908. Author
of _Ancient Needle Point and Pillow Lace_; _Embroidery and Lace_;
_Ornament in European Silks_; &c.
Lace.
A. St H. G.
ALFRED ST HILL GIBBONS.
Major, East Yorkshire Regiment. Explorer in South Central Africa.
Author of _Africa from South to North through Marotseland._
Lewanika.
A. S. M.
ALEXANDER STUART MURRAY, LL.D.
See the biographical article: MURRAY, ALEXANDER STUART.
Lamp.
A. S. W.
AUGUSTUS SAMUEL WILKINS, M.A., LL.D., LITT.D. (1843-1905).
Professor of Latin, Owens College, Manchester, 1869-1905. Author
of _Roman Literature_; &c.
Latin Language (_in part_).
A. T. T.
A. T. THORSON.
Official in Life Saving Service, U.S.A.
Life | 212.232619 | 977 |
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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; [alpha], [beta], etc. for greek
letters.
(6) The following typographical errors have been corrected:
ARTICLE HARMONY: "So strong is the identity of the tonic in major
and minor mode that Haydn and Mozart had no scruple in annexing,
with certain reservations, the key-relationships of either as an
addition to those of the other." 'identity' amended from
'indentity'.
ARTICLE HARMOTOME: "... Andreasberg in the Harz. Morvenite (from
Morven in Argyllshire) is the name given to small transparent
crystals formerly referred to as phillipsite." 'as' added.
ARTICLE HART, ERNEST ABRAHAM: "The record of his public work covers
nearly the whole field of sanitary legislation during the last
thirty years of his life." 'thirty' amended from 'thrity'.
ARTICLE HART, SIR ROBERT: "In the following year he received an
appointment as student-interpreter in the China consular service,
..." 'appointment' amended from 'appointemnt'.
ARTICLE HARVEY, WILLIAM: "'I found him,' he says, 'with a cheerful
and sprightly countenance investigating, like Democritus, the
nature of things. Asking if all were well with him..." 'cheerful'
amended from 'cheeerful'.
ARTICLE HATHRAS: "Hathras is connected by a light railway with
Muttra, and by a branch with Hathras junction, on the East Indian
main line." 'Indian' amended from 'Indain'.
ARTICLE HATTON, JOHN LIPTROT: "He seems to have kept this
appointment for about five years. In 1856 a cantata,..."
'appointment' amended from 'apppointment'.
ARTICLE HATTON, JOHN LIPTROT: "In 1875 he went to Stuttgart, and
wrote an oratorio, Hezekiah, given at the Crystal Palace in 1877;
like all his larger works it met with very moderate success."
'Crystal' amended from 'Cyrstal'.
ARTICLE HAUREAU, (JEAN) BARTHELEMY: "... whose works, being often
anonymous, raise many problems of attribution, and, though
deficient in originality of thought and style,..." 'originality'
amended from 'orginality'.
ARTICLE HAUSER, KASPAR: "... and Earl Stanhope also took part in
the discussion by publishing Materialien zur Geschichte K. Hausers
(Heidelberg, 1836)." 'Materialien' amended from 'Materialen'.
ARTICLE HAVANA: "English squadrons threatened the city several
times in the first half of the 18th century, but it was not until
1762 that an investment,..." 'that' amended from 'than'.
ARTICLE HAVELOCK, SIR HENRY: "In 1854 he became
quartermaster-general, then full colonel, and lastly
adjutant-general of the troops in India." 'adjutant' amended from
'ajdutant'.
ARTICLE HAWAII: "He made John Young (c. 1775-1835) and Isaac Davis,
Americans from one of the ships of Captain Metcalf which visited
the island in 1789,..." 'Davis' amended from 'Dayis'.
ARTICLE HAWKE, EDWARD HAWKE: "There is a story that he was
dismissed from the service for having left the line to engage the
'Poder,' and was restored by the king's order." added 'from'.
ARTICLE HAWKSHAW, SIR JOHN: "... but many years previously he had
investigated for himself the question of a tunnel under the Strait
of Dover from an engineering point of view, and had come to a
belief in | 212.575726 | 978 |
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Produced by Jason Isbell, Janet Blenkinship and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file made using scans of public domain works at the
University of Georgia.)
THE
BOTANICAL MAGAZINE;
OR,
Flower-Garden Displayed:
IN WHICH
The most Ornamental FOREIGN PLANTS, cultivated in the
Open Ground, the Green-House, and the Stove, are accurately
represented in their natural Colours.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
Their Names, Class, Order, Generic and Specific Characters, according
to the celebrated LINNAEUS; their Places of Growth,
and Times of Flowering:
TOGETHER WITH
THE MOST APPROVED METHODS OF CULTURE.
A WORK
Intended for the Use of such LADIES, GENTLEMEN, and GARDENERS, as
wish to become scientifically acquainted with the Plants they cultivate.
By _WILLIAM CURTIS_,
Author of the FLORA LONDINENSIS.
VOL. VIII.
"Much I love
To see the fair one bind the straggling pink,
Cheer the sweet rose, the lupin, and the stock,
And lend a staff to the still gadding pea.
Ye fair, it well becomes you. Better thus
Cheat time away, than at the crowded rout,
Rustling in silk, in a small room, close-pent,
And heated e'en to fusion; made to breathe
A rank contagious air, and fret at whist,
Or sit aside to sneer and whisper scandal."
VILLAGE CURATE, p. 74.
_LONDON:_
PRINTED BY STEPHEN COUCHMAN, For W. CURTIS, No 3, _St.
George's-Crescent_, Black-Friars-Road; And Sold by the principal
Booksellers in Great-Britain and Ireland, M DCC XCIV. */
[253]
LATHYRUS ARTICULATUS. JOINTED-PODDED LATHYRUS.
_Class and Order._
DIADELPHIA DECANDRIA.
_Generic Character._
_Stylus_ planus, supra villosus, superne latior. _Cal._ laciniae
superiores 2-breviores.
_Specific Character and Synonyms._
LATHYRUS _articulatus_ pedunculis subunifloris, cirrhis
polyphyllis; foliolis alternis. _Linn. Syst. Veg. ed. 14._ _Murr.
p. 662._ _Ait. Kew. v. 2. p. 41._
CLYMENUM hispanicum, flore vario, siliqua articulata. _Tourn. Inst.
396._
LATHYRUS hispanicus, pedunculis bifloris, cirrhis polyphyllis
foliolis alternis. _Mill. Dict. ed. 6. 4to._
The seed-vessels are of the first importance in ascertaining the several
species of Lathyrus, some being naked, others hairy, some long, others
short, some having a smooth and perfectly even surface, others, as in
the present instance, assuming an uneven or jointed appearance.
Of this genus we have already figured three annual species, common in
flower-gardens, viz. _odoratus_, _tingitanus_, and _sativus_; to these
we now add the _articulatus_, not altogether so frequently met with, but
meriting a place on the flower-border, as the lively red and delicate
white so conspicuous in its blossoms, causes it to be much admired.
It is a native of Italy, and was cultivated at the Chelsea Garden, in
the time of Mr. RAND, anno 1739.
It is a hardy annual, requiring support, and rarely exceeding the height
of two feet, flowering in July and August, and is readily raised from
seeds, which should be sown in the open border at the beginning of
April.
[Illustration: No 253]
[Illustration: No 254]
[254]
LOPEZIA RACEMOSA. MEXICAN LOPEZIA.
_Class and Order._
MONANDRIA MONOGYNIA.
_Generic Character._
_Cal._ 4-phyllus. _Cor._ irregularis, pentapetala, duo superiora
geniculata, quintum inferne declinatum, plicatum, ungue arcuata.
_Specific Character and Synonyms._
LOPEZIA _racemosa_ caule herbaceo ramoso; foliis alternis
ovato-lanceolatis, serratis; floribus racemosis. _Cavanilles Ic. et
descr. Pl._
Some plants have a claim on our attention for their utility, some for
their beauty, and some for the singularity of their structure, and the
wonderful nature of their oeconomy; in the last class we must place
the present plant, the flowers of which we recommend to the examination
of such of our readers as may have an opportunity of seeing them; to the
philosophic mind, not captivated with mere shew, they will afford a most
delicious treat.
We first saw this novelty in flower, towards the close of the year 1792,
at the Apothecaries Garden, | 212.649181 | 979 |
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Produced by Stan Goodman, Meredith Bach, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber's Note:
This version of the text contains a number of UTF-8 characters. These
characters may not appear if you don't have Unicode selected as your
encoding (usually found under the View/Page menu) or the right fonts
installed.
A good number of printer's errors have been corrected, including all
those in the Errata. All other spelling and grammar inconsistencies have
been retained.
As a final note, the I section of the index contains both I and J
entries.]
[Illustration: _Hickey del^t T. Medland sculp^t_
_Portrait of Van-ta-gin_
_Pub. May 2, 1804, by Mess^rs. Cadell, & Davies, Strand, London._]
TRAVELS
IN
_CHINA_,
CONTAINING
DESCRIPTIONS, OBSERVATIONS, AND COMPARISONS, MADE AND COLLECTED IN THE
COURSE OF A SHORT RESIDENCE AT THE IMPERIAL PALACE OF YUEN-MIN-YUEN, AND
ON A SUBSEQUENT JOURNEY THROUGH THE COUNTRY FROM
PEKIN TO CANTON.
_IN WHICH IT IS ATTEMPTED TO APPRECIATE THE RANK THAT
THIS EXTRAORDINARY EMPIRE MAY BE CONSIDERED TO
HOLD IN THE SCALE OF CIVILIZED NATIONS._
"NON CUIVIS HOMINI CONTINGIT ADIRE _CORINTHUM_."
_It is the lot of few to go to_ PEKIN.
By JOHN BARROW, Esq.
LATE PRIVATE SECRETARY TO THE EARL OF MACARTNEY, AND ONE OF HIS SUITE AS
AMBASSADOR FROM THE KING OF GREAT BRITAIN TO THE EMPEROR OF CHINA.
_ILLUSTRATED WITH SEVERAL ENGRAVINGS._
_LONDON_:
Printed by A. Strahan, Printers-Street,
FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, IN THE STRAND.
1804.
TO
_THE EARL OF MACARTNEY, K. B._
ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL,
_&c. &c. &c._
THIS VOLUME OF TRAVELS IN CHINA, _&c._
IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,
BY
HIS MOST FAITHFUL
AND OBLIGED HUMBLE SERVANT,
JOHN BARROW.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. I.
PRELIMINARY MATTER.
_Introduction.--General View of what Travellers are likely to meet
with in China.--Mistaken Notions entertained with regard to the
British Embassy--corrected by the Reception and Treatment of the
subsequent Dutch Embassy.--Supposed Points of Failure in the former,
as stated by a French Missionary from Pekin, refuted._--Kien Long's
_Letter to the_ King _of Holland.--Difference of Treatment
experienced by the two Embassies explained.--Intrigues of
Missionaries in foreign Countries.--Pride and Self-Importance of the
Chinese Court.--List of European Embassies, and the Time of their
Abode in Pekin.--Conclusion of Preliminary Subject._ Page 1
CHAP. II.
Occurrences and Observations in the Navigation of the Yellow Sea, and
the Passage up the Pei-ho, or White River.
_Different Testimonies that have been given of the Chinese
Character.--Comparison of China with Europe in the sixteenth
Century.--Motives of the Missionaries in their Writings.--British
Embassy passes the Streights of Formosa.--Appearance of a_
Ta-fung.--_Chu-san Islands.--Instance of Chinese
Amplification.--Various Chinese Vessels.--System of their
Navigation--their Compass, probably of Scythian Origin--foreign
Voyages of.--Traces of Chinese in America--in an Island of the
Tartarian Sea--in the Persian Gulph--traded probably as far as
Madagascar.--Commerce of the Tyrians.--Reasons for conjecturing that
the Hottentots may have derived their Origin from China.--Portrait
of a Chinese compared with that of a Hottentot.--Malays of the same
descent as the Chinese.--Curious coincidences in the Customs of
these and the Sumatrans.--Cingalese of Chinese Origin.--One of the
Brigs dispatched to_ Chu-san _for Pilots.--Rapid Currents among the
Islands.--Visit to the Governor.--Difficulties in procuring
Pilots.--Arbitrary Proceeding of the Governor.--Pilots puzzled with
our Compass--Ignorance of--Arrive in the Gulph of_
Pe-tche-lee.--_Visit of two Officers from Court, and their
Present--enter the_ Pei-ho, _and embark in convenient
Yachts.--Accommodating Conduct of the two Officers.--Profusion of
Provisions.--Appearance of the Country--of the People.--Dress of the
Women.--Remarks on their small Feet.--Chinese an uncleanly and
frowzy People.--Immense Crowds of People and River Craft at_
Tien-sing.--_Decent and prepossessing Conduct of the
Multitude.--Musical Air sung by the Rowers of the Yachts.--Favourable
in the Chinese Character.--Face and Products of the
Country.--Multitudes of People Inhabitants of the Water.--Another
Instance of arbitrary Power.--Disembark at_ Tong Tchoo, _and are
lodged in a Temple._ 25
CHAP. III.
Journey through the Capital to a Country Villa of the Emperor. Return to
Pekin. The Imperial Palace and Gardens of Yuen-min-yuen, and the Parks
of Gehol.
_Order of Procession from_ Tong-choo _to the Capital.--Crowd
assembled on the Occasion.--Appearance of Pekin without and within
the Walls.--Some Account of this City.--Proceed to a Country Villa
of the Emperor.--Inconveniences of.--Return to Pekin.--Embassador
proceeds to Tartary.--Author sent to the Palace of_
Yuen-min-yuen.--_Miserable Lodgings of.--Visit of the President and
Members of the Mathematical Tribunal.--Of the Bishop of Pekin, and
others.--Gill's Sword-blades.--Hatchett's Carriages.--Scorpion
found in a Cask packed at Birmingham.--Portraits of English
Nobility.--Effects of Accounts from Tartary on the Officers of
State in Pekin.--Emperor's return to the Capital.--Inspects the
Presents.--Application of the Embassador for Leave to
depart.--Short Account of the Palace and Gardens of_
Yuen-min-yuen.--_Lord Macartney's Description of the Eastern and
Western Parks of Gehol.--And his general Remarks on Chinese
Landscape Gardening._ 87
CHAP. IV.
Sketch of the State of Society in China.--Manners, Customs, Sentiments,
and Moral Character of the People.
_Condition of Women, a Criterion of the State of Society.--Degraded
State of in China.--Domestic Manners unfavourable to Filial
Affection.--Parental Authority.--Ill Effects of separating the
Sexes.--Social Intercourse unknown, except for gaming. Their
Worship solitary.--Feasts of New Year.--Propensity to gaming.
Influence of the Laws seem to have destroyed the natural Character
of the People.--Made them indifferent, or cruel.--Various Instances
of this Remark in public and in private Life.--Remarks on
Infanticide.--Perhaps less general than usually thought.--Character
of Chinese in Foreign Countries.--Temper and Disposition of the
Chinese. Merchants. Cuckoo-Clocks.--Conduct of a Prince of the
Blood. Of the Prime Minister. Comparison of the Physical and Moral
Characters of the Chinese and_ Mantchoo _Tartars. General Character
of the Nation illustrated._ 138
CHAP. V.
Manners and Amusements of the Court--Reception of
Embassadors.--Character and private Life of the Emperor--His Eunuchs and
Women.
_General Character of the Court--Of the buildings about the
Palace_--Lord Macartney's _Account of his Introduction--Of the
Celebration of the Emperor's Anniversary Festival--Of a
Puppet-Shew--Comedy and Pantomime--Wrestling--Conjuring and
Fire-Works--Reception and Entertainment of the Dutch Embassadors
from a Manuscript Journal--Observations on the State of the Chinese
Stage--Extraordinary Scene in one of their Dramas--Gross and
indelicate Exhibitions--Sketch of_ Kien-Long's _Life and
Character--Kills his Son by an unlucky Blow--conceives himself
immortal--Influence of the Eunuchs at the Tartar Conquest--their
present State and Offices--Emperor's Wife, Queens, and
Concubines--How disposed of at his Death._ 191
CHAP. VI.
Language.--Literature, and the fine Arts.--Sciences.--Mechanics, and
Medicine.
_Opinion of the Chinese Language being hieroglyphical
erroneous.--Doctor Hager's mistakes.--Etymological Comparisons
fallacious.--Examples of.--Nature of the Chinese written
Character.--Difficulty and Ambiguity of.--Curious Mistake of an
eminent Antiquarian.--Mode of acquiring the Character.--Oral
Language.--Mantchoo Tartar Alphabet.--Chinese
Literature.--Astronomy.--Chronology.--Cycle of sixty
Years.--Geography.--Arithmetic.--Chemical Arts.--Cannon and
Gunpowder.--Distillation.--Potteries.--Silk
Manufactures.--Ivory.--Bamboo.--Paper.--Ink.--Printing.--Mechanics.
--Music.--Painting.--Sculpture.--Architecture.--Hotel
of the English Embassador in Pekin.--The Great Wall.--The Grand
Canal.--Bridges.--Cemeteries.--Natural Philosophy.--Medicine.--Chinese
Pharmacopoeia.--Quacks.--Contagious Fevers.--Small-pox.--Opthalmia.
--Venereal Disease.--Midwifery.--Surgery.--Doctor Gregory's Opinion of
their Medical Knowledge.--Sir William Jones's Opinion of their general
Character._ 236
CHAP. VII.
Government--Laws--Tenures of Land and Taxes--Revenues--Civil and
Military Ranks, and Establishments.
_Opinions on which the Executive Authority is grounded.--Principle
on which an Emperor of China seldom appears in public.--The
Censorate.--Public Departments.--Laws.--Scale of Crimes and
Punishments.--Laws regarding Homicide.--Curious Law Case.--No
Appeal from Civil Suits.--Defects in the Executive
Government.--Duty of Obedience and Power of personal
Correction.--Russia and China compared.--Fate of the Prime
Minister_ Ho-chang-tong.--_Yearly Calendar and Pekin Gazette,
engines of Government.--Freedom of the Press.--Duration of the
Government attempted to be explained.--Precautions of Government to
prevent Insurrections.--Taxes and Revenues.--Civil and Military
Establishments.--Chinese Army, its Numbers and
Appointments.--Conduct of the Tartar Government at the
Conquest.--Impolitic Change of late Years, and the probable
Consequences of it._ 357
CHAP. VIII.
Conjectures on the Origin of the Chinese.--Their Religious
Sects,--Tenets,--and Ceremonies.
_Embassy departs from Pekin, and is lodged in a Temple.--Colony
from Egypt not necessary to be supposed, in order to account for
Egyptian Mythology in China.--Opinions concerning Chinese
Origin.--Observations on the Heights of Tartary.--Probably the
Resting-place of the Ark of Noah.--Ancients ignorant of the
Chinese.--Seres.--First known Intercourse of Foreigners with
China.--Jews.--Budhists.--Nestorians.--Mahomedans.--Roman
Catholics.--Quarrels of the Jesuits and Dominicans.--Religion of
Confucius.--Attached to the Prediction of future Events.--Notions
entertained by him of a future State.--Of the Deity.--Doctrine not
unlike that of the Stoics.--Ceremonies in Honour of his Memory led
to Idolatry.--Misrepresentations of the Missionaries with regard to
the Religion of the Chinese.--The_ Tao-tze _or_ Sons of
Immortals.--_Their Beverage of Life.--The Disciples of_ Fo _or
Budhists.--Comparison of some of the Hindu, Greek, Egyptian, and
Chinese Deities.--The_ Lotos _or_ Nelumbium.--_Story of_ Osiris
_and_ Isis, _and the_ Isia _compared with the Imperial Ceremony of
Ploughing.--Women visit the Temples.--Practical Part of Chinese
Religion.--Funeral Obsequies.--Feast of Lanterns.--Obeisance to the
Emperor performed in Temples leads to Idolatry.--Primitive Religion
lost or corrupted.--Summary of Chinese Religion._ 418
CHAP. IX.
Journey from Tong-choo-foo to the Province of Canton.--Face of the
Country, and its Productions.--Buildings and other Public
Works.--Condition of the People.--State of Agriculture.--Population.
_Attentions paid to the Embassy.--Observations on the Climate and
Plains of_ Pe-tche-lee.--_Plants of.--Diet and Condition of the
People.--Burying-place.--Observation on Chinese Cities.--Trackers
of the Yachts.--Entrance of the Grand Canal. The Fishing
Corvorant.--Approach to the_ Yellow River.--_Ceremony of crossing
this River.--Observations on Canals and Roads.--Improvements of the
Country in advancing to the Southward.--Beauty of, near_
Sau-choo-foo.--_Bridge of ninety-one Arches.--Country near_
Hang-choo-foo.--_City of.--Appearance of the Country near the_
Po-yang _Lake.--Observations in Proceeding through_
Kiang-see.--_The_ Camellia Sesanqua.--_Retrospective View of the
Climate and Produce, Diet and Condition of the People, of_
Pe-tche-lee.--_Some Observations on the Capital of China.--Province
of_ Shan-tung.--_Of_ Kiang-nan.--_Observations on the State of
Agriculture in China.--Rice Mills.--Province of_ Tche-kiang.--_Of_
Kiang-see.--_Population of China compared with that of
England.--Erroneous Opinions entertained on this
Subject.--Comparative Population of a City in China and in
England.--Famines accounted for.--Means of Prevention.--Causes of
the Populousness of China._ 488
CHAP. X.
Journey through the Province of Canton.--Situation of Foreigners trading
to this Port.--Conclusion.
_Visible Change in the Character of the People.--Rugged
Mountains.--Collieries.--Temple in a Cavern.--Stone
Quarries.--Various Plants for Use and Ornament.--Arrive at
Canton.--Expence of the Embassy to the Chinese Government.--To the
British Nation.--Nature and Inconveniences of the Trade to
Canton.--The Armenian and his Pearl.--Impositions of the Officers
of Government instanced.--Principal Cause of them is the Ignorance
of the Language.--Case of Chinese trading to London.--A Chinese
killed by a Seaman of His Majesty's Ship Madras.--Delinquent saved
from an ignominious Death, by a proper Mode of Communication with
the Government._--Conclusion. 591
LIST OF PLATES.
_Portrait of Van-ta-gin_--the Frontispiece. (_v. p. 184_)
_Trading Vessel_ and _Rice Mill_ to face page 37.
_Portraits_ of a _Chinese_ and a _Hottentot_ to face page 50.
_View_ in the _Imperial Park_ at _Gehol_ to face page 128.
_Artillery_, between pages 302 and 303 with a _guard_.
_Musical Instruments_ between pages 314 and 315 with a guard.
_Arch_ of a _Bridge_ to face page 338.
_Chinese Village_, and Mandarin's Dwelling, to face page 545.
ERRATA.
Page 20 line 12. _add_ a between of and crime
23. -- 2. _for_ twice _read_ thrice
39. line last, _for_ Mario _r._ Marco
44. -- 26. _for_ Toftanague _r._ Tootanague
46. -- 18. _for_ Geraffe _r._ Giraffe
81. -- 1. _add_ to between master and which
103. -- 17. _for_ monuments _r._ Monument
122. -- 7. _add_ the between of and palaces
127. -- 3. _for_ ther _r._ their
142. -- 1. _for_ whit _r._ with
183. -- 13. _for_ the _r._ a
186. -- 4. _for_ loose _r._ lose
224. in the note. _for_ A. Calpurnius _r._ T. Calpurnius
239. -- 13. _after_ cross place X
295. -- 20. _for_ numercial _r._ numerical
394. -- 15. _for_ an _r._ in
---- -- 16. _for_ in _r._ on
416. -- 1. _for_ blook _r._ stock
568. -- 12. _for_ from _ | 212.896026 | 980 |
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THE PRICE
BY
FRANCIS LYNDE
AUTHOR OF
THE TAMING OF RED BUTTE WESTERN, ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Published by Arrangement with Charles Scribner's Sons
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published May, 1911
[Illustration]
To
MR. LATHROP BROCKWAY BULLENE
SOLE FRIEND OF MY BOYHOOD, WHO WILL RECALL BETTER
THAN ANY THE YOUTHFUL MORAL AND SOCIAL SEED-TIME
WHICH HAS LED TO THIS LATER HARVESTING OF CONCLUSION,
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. AT CHAUDIERE'S 1
II. SPINDRIFT 9
III. THE RIGHT OF MIGHT 16
IV. _IO TRIUMPHE!_ 26
V. THE _BELLE JULIE_ 34
VI. THE DECK-HAND 44
VII. GOLD OF TOLOSA 53
VIII. THE CHAIN-GANG 59
IX. THE MIDDLE WATCH 68
X. QUICKSANDS 75
XI. THE ANARCHIST 84
XII. MOSES ICHTHYOPHAGUS 94
XIII. GRISWOLD EMERGENT 110
XIV. PHILISTIA 116
XV. THE GOTHS AND VANDALS 126
XVI. GOOD SAMARITANS 143
XVII. GROPINGS 154
XVIII. THE ZWEIBUND 165
XIX. LOSS AND GAIN 175
XX. THE CONVALESCENT 187
XXI. BROFFIN'S EQUATION 201
XXII. IN THE BURGLAR-PROOF 218
XXIII. CONVERGING ROADS 234
XXIV. THE FORWARD LIGHT 248
XXV. THE BRIDGE OF JEHENNAM 260
XXVI. PITFALLS 274
XXVII. IN THE SHADOWS 286
XXVIII. BROKEN LINKS 295
XXIX. ALL THAT A MAN HATH 312
XXX. THE VALLEY OF DRY BONES 332
XXXI. NARROWING WALLS 347
XXXII. THE LION'S SHARE 354
XXXIII. GATES OF BRASS 368
XXXIV. THE ABYSS 375
XXXV. MARGERY'S ANSWER 384
XXXVI. THE GRAY WOLF 396
XXXVII. THE QUALITY OF MERCY 408
XXXVIII. THE PENDULUM-SWING 416
XXXIX. DUST AND ASHES 428
XL. APPLES OF ISTAKHAR 438
XLI. THE DESERT AND THE SOWN 448
THE PRICE
I
AT CHAUDIERE'S
In the days when New Orleans still claimed distinction as the only
American city without trolleys, sky-scrapers, or fast trains--was it
yesterday? or the day before?--there was a dingy, cobwebbed cafe in an
arcade off Camp Street which was well-beloved of newspaperdom;
particularly of that wing of the force whose activities begin late and
end in the small hours.
"Chaudiere's," it was called, though I know not if that were the name of
the round-faced, round-bodied little Marseillais who took toll at the
desk. But all men knew the fame of its gumbo and its stuffed crabs, and
that its claret was neither very bad nor very dear. And if the walls
were dingy and the odors from the grille pungent and penetrating at
times, there went with the white-sanded floor, and the marble-topped
tables for two, an Old-World air of recreative comfort which is rarer
now, even in New Orleans, than it was yesterday or the day before.
It was at Chaudiere's that Griswold had eaten his first breakfast in the
Crescent City; and it was at Chaudiere's again that he was sharing a
farewell supper with Bainbridge, of the _Louisianian_. Six weeks lay
between that and this; forty-odd days of discouragement and failure
superadded upon other similar days and weeks and months. The breakfast,
he remembered, had been garnished with certain green sprigs of hope; but
at the supper-table he ate like a barbarian in arrears to his appetite
and the garnishings were the bitter herbs of humiliation and defeat.
Without meaning to, Bainbridge had been strewing the path with fresh
thorns for the defeated one. He had just been billeted for a run down
the Central American coast to write up the banana trade for his paper,
and he was boyishly jubilant over the assignment, which promised to be a
zestful pleasure trip. Chancing upon Griswold in the first flush of his
elation, he had dragged the New Yorker around to Chaudiere's to play
second knife and fork at a small parting feast. Not that it had required
much persuasion. Griswold had fasted for twenty-four hours, and he would
have broken bread thankfully with an enemy. And if Bainbridge were not a
friend in a purist's definition of the term, he was at least a friendly
acquaintance.
Until the twenty-four-hour fast was in some measure atoned for, the
burden of the table-talk fell upon Bainbridge, who lifted and carried it
generously on the strength of his windfall. But no topic can be
immortal; and when the vacation under pay had been threshed out in all
its anticipatory details it occurred to the host that his guest was less
than usually responsive; a fault not to be lightly condoned under the
joyous circumstances. Wherefore he protested.
"What's the matter with you to-night, Kenneth, old man? You're more than
commonly grumpy, it seems to me; and that's needless."
Griswold took the last roll from the joint bread-plate and buttered it
methodically.
"Am I?" he said. "Perhaps it is because I am more than commonly hungry.
But go on with your joy-talk: I'm listening."
"That's comforting, as far as it goes; but I should think you might say
something a little less carefully polarized. You don't have a chance to
congratulate lucky people every day."
Griswold looked up with a smile that was almost ill-natured, and quoted
cynically: "'Unto everyone that hath shall be given, and he shall have
abundance; but from him that hath not, shall be taken away even that
which he hath.'"
Bainbridge's laugh was tolerant enough to take the edge from his retort.
"That's a pretty thing to fling at a man who never knifed you or
pistoled you or tried to poison you! An innocent by-stander might say
you envied me."
"I do," rejoined Griswold gravely. "I envy any man who can earn enough
money to pay for three meals a day and a place to sleep in."
"Oh, cat's foot!--anybody can do that," asserted Bainbridge, with the
air of one to whom the struggle for existence has been a mere athlete's
practice run.
"I know; that is your theory. But the facts disprove it. I can't, for
one."
"Oh, yes, you could, if you'd side-track some of your own theories and
come down to sawing wood like the rest of us. But you won't do that."
Griswold was a fair man, with reddish hair and beard and the quick and
sensitive skin of the type. A red flush of anger crept up under the
closely cropped beard, and his eyes were bright.
"That is not true, and you know it, Bainbridge," he contradicted,
speaking slowly lest his temper should break bounds. "Is it my fault, or
only my misfortune, that I can do nothing but write books for which I
can't find a publisher? Or that the work of a hack-writer is quite as
impossible for me as mine is for him?"
Bainbridge scoffed openly; but he was good-natured enough to make amends
when he saw that Griswold was moved.
"I take it all back," he said. "I suppose the book-chicken has come home
again to roost, and a returned manuscript accounts for anything. But
seriously, Kenneth, you ought to get down to bed-rock facts. Nobody but
a crazy phenomenon can find a publisher for his first book, nowadays,
unless he has had some sort of an introduction in the magazines or the
newspapers. You haven't had that; so far as I know, you haven't tried
for it."
"Oh, yes, I have--tried and failed. It isn't in me to do the salable
thing, and there isn't a magazine editor in the country who doesn't know
it by this time. They've been decent about it. Horton was kind enough.
He covered two pages of a letter telling me why the stuff I sent from
here might fit one of the reviews and why it wouldn't fit his magazine.
But that is beside the mark. I tell you, Bainbridge, the conditions are
all wrong when a man with a vital message to his kind can't get to
deliver it to the people who want to hear it."
Bainbridge ordered the small coffees and found his cigar case.
"That is about what I suspected," he commented impatiently. "You
couldn't keep your peculiar views muzzled even when you were writing a
bit of a pot-boiler on sugar-planting. Which brings us back to the old
contention: you drop your fool socialistic fad and write a book that a
reputable publisher can bring out without committing commercial suicide,
and you'll stand some show. Light up and fumigate that idea awhile."
Griswold took the proffered cigar half-absently, as he had taken the
last piece of bread.
"It doesn't need fumigating; if I could consider it seriously it ought
rather to be burnt with fire. You march in the ranks of the well-fed,
Bainbridge, and it is your _metier_ to be conservative. I don't, and
it's mine to be radical."
"What would you have?" demanded the man on the conservative side of the
table. "The world is as it is, and you can't remodel it."
"There is where you make the mistake common to those who cry Peace, when
there is no peace," was the quick retort. "I, and my kind, can remodel
it, and some day, when the burden has grown too heavy to be borne, we
will. The aristocracy of rank, birth, feudal tyranny went down in fire
and blood in France a century ago: the aristocracy of money will go down
here, when the time is ripe."
"That is good anarchy, but mighty bad ethics. I didn't know you had
reached that stage of the disease, Kenneth."
"Call it what you please; names don't change facts. Listen"--Griswold
leaned upon the table; his eyes grew hard and the blue in them became
metallic--"For more than a month I have tramped the streets of this
cursed city begging--yes, that is the word--begging for work of any kind
that would suffice to keep body and soul together; and for more than
half of that time I have lived on one meal a day. That is what we have
come to; we of the submerged majority. And that isn't all. The
wage-worker himself, when he is fortunate enough to find a chance to
earn his crust, is but a serf; a chattel among the other possessions of
some fellow man who has acquired him in the plutocratic redistribution
of the earth and the fulness thereof."
Bainbridge applauded in dumb show.
"Turn it loose and ease the soul-sickness, old man," he said
indulgently. "I know things haven't been coming your way, lately. What
is your remedy?"
Griswold was fairly started now, and ridicule was as fuel to the flame.
"The money-gatherers have set us the example. They have made us
understand that might is right; that he who has may hold--if he can. The
answer is simple: there is enough and to spare for all, and it belongs
to all; to him who sows the seed and waters it, as well as to him who
reaps the harvest. That is a violent remedy, you will say. So be it: it
is the only one that will cure the epidemic of greed. There is an
alternative, but it is only theoretical."
"And that?"
"It may be summed up in seven words: 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as
thyself.' When the man who employs--and rules--uses the power that money
gives him to succor his fellow man, the revolution will be indefinitely
postponed. But as I say, it's only a theory."
Bainbridge glanced at his watch.
"I must be going," he said. "The _Adelantado_ drops down the river at
eleven. But in passing I'll venture a little prophecy. You're down on
your luck now, and a bit hot-hearted in consequence; but some day you
will strike it right and come out on top. When you do, you'll be a hard
master; tattoo that on your arm somewhere so you'll be reminded of it."
Griswold had risen with his entertainer, and he put his hands on the
table.
"God do so to me, and more, if I am, Bainbridge," he said soberly.
"That's all right: when the time comes, you just remember my little
fortune-telling stunt. But before we shake hands, let's get back to
concrete things for a minute or two. How are you fixed for the present,
and what are you going to do for the future?"
Griswold's smile was not pleasant to look at.
"I am 'fixed' to run twenty-four hours longer, thanks to your
hospitality. For that length of time I presume I shall continue to
conform to what we have been taught to believe is the immutable order of
things. After that----"
He paused, and Bainbridge put the question. "Well, after that; what
then?"
"Then, if the chance to earn it is still denied me, and I am
sufficiently hungry, I shall stretch forth my hand and take what I
need."
Bainbridge fished in his pocket and took out a ten-dollar bank-note. "Do
that first," he said, offering Griswold the money.
The proletary smiled and shook his head.
"No; not to keep from going hungry--not even to oblige you, Bainbridge.
It is quite possible that I shall end by becoming a robber, as you
paraphrasers would put it, but I sha'n't begin on my friends.
Good-night, and a safe voyage to you."
II
SPINDRIFT
The fruit steamer _Adelantado_, outward bound, was shuddering to the
first slow revolutions of her propeller when Bainbridge turned the key
in the door of the stuffy little state-room to which he had been
directed, and went on deck.
The lines had been cast off and the ship was falling by imperceptible
inches away from her broadside berth at the fruit wharf. Bainbridge
heard the distance-softened clang of a gong; the tremulous murmur of the
screw became more pronounced, and the vessel forged ahead until the
current caught the outward-swinging prow. Five minutes later the
_Adelantado_ had circled majestically in mid-stream and was passing the
lights of the city in review as she steamed at half-speed down the
river.
Bainbridge had no mind to go back to the stuffy state-room, late as it
was. Instead, he lighted a fresh cigar and found a chair on the port
side aft where he could sit and watch the lights wheel past in orderly
procession as the fruit steamer swept around the great crescent which
gives New Orleans its unofficial name.
While the comfortable feeling of elation, born of his unexpected bit of
good fortune, was still uppermost to lend complacency to his
reflections, he yet found room for a compassionate underthought having
for its object the man from whom he had lately parted. He was honestly
sorry for Griswold; sorry, but not actually apprehensive. He had known
the defeated one in New York, and was not unused to his rebellious
outbursts against the accepted order of things. Granting that his
theories were incendiary and crudely subversive of all the civilized
conventions, Griswold the man was nothing worse than an impressionable
enthusiast; a victim of the auto-suggestion which seizes upon those who
dwell too persistently upon the wrongs of the wronged.
So ran Bainbridge's epitomizing of the proletary's case; and he knew
that his opinion was shared with complete unanimity by all who had known
Griswold in Printing House Square. To a man they agreed in calling him
Utopian, altruistic, visionary. What milder epithets should be applied
to one who, with sufficient literary talent--not to say genius--to make
himself a working name in the ordinary way, must needs run amuck among
the theories and write a novel with a purpose? a novel, moreover, in
which the purpose so overshadowed the story as to make the book a mere
preachment.
As a matter of course, the publishers would have nothing to do with the
book. Bainbridge remembered, with considerable satisfaction, that he had
confidently predicted its failure, and had given Griswold plentiful good
advice while it was in process of writing. But Griswold, being quite as
obstinate as he was impressionable, had refused to profit by the
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INTERNATIONAL INCIDENTS
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER
_Edinburgh_: 100, PRINCES STREET
_London_: STEVENS AND SONS, LTD., 119 AND 120, CHANCERY LANE
_Berlin_: A. ASHER AND CO.
_Leipzig_: F. A. BROCKHAUS
_New York_: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
_Bombay and Calcutta_: MACMILLAN AND Co., LTD.
[_All Rights reserved_]
INTERNATIONAL INCIDENTS
FOR
DISCUSSION
IN CONVERSATION CLASSES
BY
L. OPPENHEIM, M.A., LL.D.
WHEWELL PROFESSOR OF INTERNATIONAL LAW
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
ASSOCIATE OF THE INSTITUTE OF INTERNATIONAL LAW
Cambridge:
at the University Press
1909
_Cambridge:_
PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A.
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
Transcribers' Note: Inconsistent punctuation printed in the original
text has been retained.
PREFACE
For many years I have pursued the practice of holding conversation
classes following my lectures on international law. The chief
characteristic of these classes is the discussion of international
incidents as they occur in everyday life. I did not formerly possess
any collection, but brought before the class such incidents as had
occurred during the preceding week. Of late I have found it more useful
to preserve a record of some of these incidents and to add to this
nucleus a small number of typical cases from the past as well as some
problem cases, which were invented for the purpose of drawing the
attention of the class to certain salient points of international law.
As I was often asked by my students and others to bring out a
collection of incidents suitable for discussion, and as the printing of
such a little book frees me from the necessity of dictating the cases
to my students, I have, although somewhat reluctantly, made up my mind
to publish the present collection.
I need hardly emphasise the fact that this collection is not intended
to compete either with Scott's _Cases on International Law, selected
from decisions of English and American Courts_, or with Pitt
Cobbett's _Leading Cases and Opinions on International Law_, both
of which are collections of standard value, but intended for quite
other purposes than my own.
I have spent much thought in the endeavour to class my incidents into a
number of groups, but having found all such efforts at grouping futile,
I therefore present them in twenty-five sections, each containing four
cases of a different character. Experience has shewn me that in a class
lasting two hours I am able to discuss the four cases contained in
these sections.
I have taken special care not to have two similar cases within the same
section, for although there are no two cases exactly alike in the
collection, there are several possessing certain characteristics in
common. It is one of the tasks of the teacher and the students
themselves to group together such of my cases as they may think are
related to each other by one or more of these traits.
It has been suggested that notes and hints should be appended to each
case, but the purpose for which the collection is published is better
served by giving the incidents devoid of any explanatory matter. Should
this book induce other teachers of international law to adopt my method
of seminar work, it must be left to them to stimulate their classes in
such a way as to enable the students to discover on their own
initiative the solution of the problems.
I gladly accepted the suggestion of the publishers that the cases
should be printed on writing paper and on one side of the page only, so
that notes may be taken and additional cases added.
I am greatly indebted to Mr Dudley Ward, of St John's College,
Cambridge, my assistant, who has prepared the cases for the press and
read the proofs. In deciding upon the final form of each case so many
of his suggestions have been adopted that in many instances I do not
know what is my own and what is his work.
L. O.
WHEWELL HOUSE,
CAMBRIDGE,
_June 12th, 1909_.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
SECTION I.
1. A Councillor of Legation in Difficulties 1
2. Neutral Goods on Enemy Merchantman 1
3. American Coasting Trade 3
4. A German Balloon in Antwerp 3
SECTION II.
5. Use of the White Flag 5
6. A South American "Pseudo-Republic" 5
7. A Tavern Brawl 9
8. A Threatened Diplomatic Rupture 11
SECTION III.
9. Death Sentence on Russian Terrorists 11
10. The Case of De Jager 13
11. A Kidnapped Chinaman 15
12. A Case of Bigamy 15
SECTION IV.
13. A Shot across the Frontier 17
14. A Revolted Prize 17
15. Investments Abroad 19
16. Russian Coasting Trade 19
SECTION V.
17. Exceeding the Speed Limit 21
18. A New-born Island 21
19. An Irate Queen 23
20. An Incident in the Black Sea 23
SECTION VI.
21. The Case of the _Trent_ 25
22. A Double Murderer 25
23. A Masterful Customs Official 27
24. Russian Refugees and Foreign Asylum 27
SECTION VII.
25. A Conversion at Sea 29
26. A Frontier Affray 31
27. General Vukotitch 31
28. An Anglo-French Burglar 33
SECTION VIII.
29. Signals of Distress 35
30. A Change of Parts 35
31. Violation of a Foreign Flag 37
32. A Pickpocket at Sea 37
SECTION IX.
33. Gypsies in Straits 39
34. A Question of Annexation 41
35. Disputed Fisheries 41
36. Imperial Coasting Trade 43
SECTION X.
37. A Russian Crime tried in Austria 43
38. Stratagem or Perfidy 45
39. Murder of a German Consul in Mexico 47
40. Cossacks at Large 49
SECTION XI.
41. Islanders in Revolt 49
42. Seizure of Ambassadors 51
43. An Envoy in Debt 51
44. Treaty Bargaining 53
SECTION XII.
45. A Fallen President 53
46. A Murder in Monaco 55
47. A Question of Interpretation 57
48. The Island of Santa Lucia 57
SECTION XIII.
49. An Attache's Chauffeur 59
50. In Quest of Balata 61
51. A "Sujet Mixte" 63
52. Koreans at the Hague Peace Conference 63
SECTION XIV.
53. The Adventures of a South American Physician 65
54. Extradition of a British Subject 65
55. The Case of the _Oldhamia_ 69
56. An Ambassador's Estate 73
SECTION XV.
57. Dangers of Ballooning 75
58. Family Honour 75
59. An Ocean Chase 77
60. The _Maori King_ 77
SECTION XVI.
61. The Island of Rakahanga 79
62. A Complaint against the Police 79
63. A Man with two Wives 81
64. A Murder on a Mail Boat 81
SECTION XVII.
65. Persian Disorders 83
66. The Expulsion of Monsieur de Reus 85
67. The Case of McLeod 87
68. A Thwarted Suicide 87
SECTION XVIII.
69. An Insult to an Ambassador 89
70. A Question of Legitimacy 89
71. The Coachman of an Envoy 91
72. The Case of Schnaebele 91
SECTION XIX.
73. Amelia Island 93
74. Representation to China 93
75. Exemption from Rates 95
76. Errant Balloons 97
SECTION XX.
77. Sully in England 97
78. Homicide by an Attache 99
79. A Disputed Capture 99
80. The Punishment for Murder 101
SECTION XXI.
81. A Traitor's Fate 101
82. An Interrupted Armistice 103
83. Shooting Affray in a Legation 103
84. The Surrender of Port Arthur 105
SECTION XXII.
85. An Ambassador's Brother 105
86. A Detained Steamer 107
87. Prussia and the Poles 107
88. A Charmed Life 109
SECTION XXIII.
89. A Daring Robbery 111
90. The Fall of Abdul Hamid 113
91. A President Abroad 113
92. A Rejected Ambassador 117
SECTION XXIV.
93. Revictualling of a Fortress 119
94. Dutch Reprisals 119
95. Birth on the High Seas 121
96. A High-handed Action 121
SECTION XXV.
97. The _Southern Queen_ 123
98. A Three-cornered Dispute 123
99. Russian Revolutionary Outrage in Paris 125
100. The Detention of Napoleon I. 127
SECTION I
1. _A Councillor of Legation in difficulties._
In 1868 the French journalist Leonce Dupont, the owner of the Parisian
newspaper _La Nation_, became bankrupt. It was discovered that this
paper was really founded by the councillor of the Russian legation in
Paris, Tchitcherine, who had supplied the funds necessary to start it,
for the purpose of influencing public opinion in Russian interests. The
creditors claimed that Tchitcherine was liable for the debts of Dupont,
and brought an action against him.
2. _Neutral Goods on Enemy Merchantman._
A belligerent man-of-war sinks his prize, an enemy merchantman, on
account of the impossibility of sparing a prize crew. Part of the cargo
belongs to neutral owners, who claim compensation for the loss of their
goods.
3. _American Coasting Trade._
In 1898, after having acquired the Philippines and the island of Puerto
Rico from Spain by the peace treaty of Paris, and in 1899, after having
acquired the Hawaiian Islands, the United States declared trade between
any of her ports and these islands to be coasting trade, and reserved
it exclusively for American vessels.
4. _A German Balloon in Antwerp._
The following telegram appeared in the _Morning Post_ of April 7th,
1909, dated Brussels, April 6th:
"An incident which is regarded with some seriousness by Belgians has
occurred at Antwerp. A balloon which for a time was observed to be more
or less stationary over the forts finally came to earth in close
proximity to them. It proved to be a German balloon, the _Dusseldorf
No. 3_, controlled by two men, who, on being interrogated by the
Commander of the fortifications, declared themselves to be merely a
banker and a farmer interested in ballooning in an amateur fashion, who
had been obliged to descend. The General commanding the Territorial
Division adjoining Antwerp was informed of the incident. On an inquiry
being opened it was found that the aeronauts were none other than two
German officers, and that the balloon forms part of the German Army
_materiel_. The Minister for War was immediately informed, and he has
communicated the facts of the case to his colleagues. The inquiry is
being continued. In the balloon was found a quantity of photographic
apparatus."
SECTION II
5. _The Use of the White Flag._
During war between states A and B, an outlying fort of a harbour of
state A is being bombarded by the fleet of state B, and is in danger of
capture. Suddenly the white flag is hoisted on the fort, and a boat
flying a white flag and carrying an officer and some men leaves the
fort and makes for the flagship of the bombarding fleet. Thereupon the
fleet receives the order to cease firing. Shortly after this has been
carried out, the boat flying the white flag, instead of continuing its
course, returns to the fort. Under cover of this manoeuvre the
bombarded garrison succeeds in abandoning the fort and withdrawing in
safety.
6. _A South American "Pseudo-republic."_
The following appeared in the _Times_ of April 26th, 1904:
"The utility for the practical politician of the study of that branch
of sociology to which M. Lebon has given the non-classical name of the
psychology of crowds is amusingly demonstrated in the fact of the
efforts of the still nebulous State of Counany to materialize and to
attain a separate and independent existence among the South American
Republics. What is taking place would seem to be a simple phenomenon of
suggestion, induced by the example of Panama. The fate of the vague
territory known as Counany had been settled, as every one supposed, by
the arbitral sentence of the Swiss Tribunal by which this region, with
which France and Brazil had played diplomatic battledore and
shuttlecock for more than 175 years, was finally handed over to the
latter Power.
"Brazil has never, it appears, taken effective possession of Counany,
and the population, whose flag, if ethnographic differences were to be
symbolized in it, ought to be a sort of Joseph's coat of many colours,
are now apparently once more appealing to the civilized world to aid
them to secure a separate existence. What recently occurred on the
Isthmus of Panama, when a new State sprang full fledged into being,
would seem to have been an object lesson acting automatically on the
nerves of these Indians, whites, <DW64>s, and half-castes, welding them
into a compact whole and giving them a self-consciousness craving
European sanction. Hypnotized by Panama, and, it may be, counting upon
the eventual support of one of the Continental Powers which has already
shown the world that Brazilian affairs are not beyond the range of its
diplomatic vigilance, Counany steps once more to the fore.
"A Paris morning paper, the _Journal_, plays the _role_ of introducer
of the new Counany Ambassador. This Ambassador is a certain M. Brezet,
who comes to France, in spite of the sentence of the arbitral tribunal,
as President of a State which is described by all competent authorities
as a _pseudo_-republic, summarily wiped off the map as an independent
State. M. Brezet, moreover, is a Parisian who has served, it is said,
in the French forces in Guiana. He is now for the second time enjoying
the confidence of the Counanians, strong in the prestige won by his
success in having repulsed the Brazilians who sought dutifully to carry
out the terms of the clauses of the Berne Decree. 'After having
prepared the military and administrative reorganization of Counany, he
has come on a mission to Europe to defend the interests entrusted to
him.' Such is the story reported by the _Journal_.
"Counany, now described as the vast territory between the Amazon and
the two Guianas, is not merely a relatively accessible stretch of
coast-line and _Hinterland_ for a certain enterprising European
colonial Power, which has already prospected in Brazil, Venezuela, and
the unknown world between the Amazon and the Orinoco. Counany is
likewise on the high road of sea communication between the south of
South America and the eventual link between the Atlantic and the
Pacific, known as the Panama Canal. The Counany coast-line is a
covetable strip of the South American coast which at more favourable
moments might even distract our attention from Morocco."
7. _A Tavern Brawl._
In 1902, in an inn on the German side of the German-French frontier, an
altercation arises between Franz Heller, an Austrian subject, and a
Frenchman. They leave the inn together, still quarrelling. The
Frenchman hits Heller with his stick and runs away across the frontier.
Heller, however, draws a revolver and shoots the Frenchman dead. The
French government demands his extradition for murder.
8. _A Threatened Diplomatic Rupture._
The following appeared in the _Times_ of Feb. 22nd, 1908, dated Sofia,
Feb. 21st:
"A diplomatic rupture between Servia and Montenegro is threatened. The
Servian Minister has been instructed to leave Cettigne should
satisfaction not be accorded for certain injurious observations made by
M. Tomanovich, the Montenegrin Premier, in the course of a recent
speech. Relations between the two dynasties and countries have long
been strained, and the quarrel has become acute since the refusal of
the Servian Government to take the measures demanded by Montenegro
against refugees and others accused of participation in the recent plot
against the life of Prince Nicholas."
SECTION III
9. _Death Sentence on Russian Terrorists._
The following appeared in the _Times_ of Feb. | 213.271043 | 982 |
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Produced by Joe Longo and the Online Distributed
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PATENT LAWS
OF
THE REPUBLIC OF HAWAII,
AND
RULES OF PRACTICE
IN
THE PATENT OFFICE.
_FIFTH EDITION, 1897._
HONOLULU:
HAWAIIAN GAZETTE COMPANY.
1897.
PATENT LAWS
OF THE
REPUBLIC OF HAWAII.
ACTS NOW IN FORCE.
AN ACT
TO REGULATE THE ISSUING OF PATENTS.
_Be it Enacted by the King and the Legislative Assembly of
the Hawaiian Islands, in the Legislature of the Kingdom
Assembled_:
SECTION 1. All patents shall be issued in the name of His Majesty the
King, under the Seal of the Interior Department, and shall be signed by
the Minister of Interior and countersigned by the Commissioner of
Patents, and they shall be recorded together with the specifications in
the office of the Interior Department in books kept for the purpose.
SECTION 2. Every patent shall contain a short title or description of
the invention or discovery, correctly indicating its nature and design,
and a grant to the patentee, his heirs or assigns for the term of ten[A]
years, of the exclusive right to make, use and vend the invention or
discovery throughout the Hawaiian Islands, referring to the
specification for the particulars thereof. A copy of the specifications
and drawings shall be annexed to the patent and be a part thereof.
SECTION 3. Any person who has invented or discovered any new and useful
art, machine, manufacture, process or composition of matter, or any new
and useful improvement thereof not known or used by others in this
country, and not patented ( | 213.353057 | 983 |
2023-11-16 18:19:20.0852290 | 404 | 101 |
Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed
Proofreaders
A TALE OF ONE CITY:
THE NEW BIRMINGHAM.
_Papers Reprinted from the "Midland Counties Herald"_,
BY
THOMAS ANDERTON.
Birmingham: "MIDLAND COUNTIES HERALD" OFFICE.
TO BE HAD FROM CORNISH BROTHERS, NEW STREET; MIDLAND EDUCATIONAL CO.,
CORPORATION STREET.
1900
I.
PROLOGUE.
The present century has seen the rise and development of many towns in
various parts of the country, and among them Birmingham is entitled to
take a front place. If Thomas Attwood or George Frederick Muntz could
now revisit the town they once represented in Parliament they would
probably stare with amazement at the changes that have taken place in
Birmingham, and would require a guide to show them their way about the
town--now a city--they once knew so well. The material history of
Birmingham was for a series of years a story of steady progress and
prosperity, but of late years the city has in a political, social, and
municipal sense advanced by leaps and bounds. It is no longer
"Brummagem" or the "Hardware Village," it is now recognised as the
centre of activity and influence in Mid-England; it is the Mecca of
surrounding populous districts, that attracts an increasing number of
pilgrims who love life, pleasure, and shopping.
Birmingham, indeed, has recently been styled "the best governed city in
the world"--a title that is, perhaps, a trifle too full and panegyrical
to find ready and general acceptance. If, however, by this very lofty
and eulogistic description is meant a city that has been exceptionally
prosperous, is well looked after, | 213.404639 | 984 |
2023-11-16 18:19:20.2020770 | 4,122 | 51 |
E-text prepared by MWS 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 53010-h.htm or 53010-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53010/53010-h/53010-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53010/53010-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/lastabbotofglast00crakrich
[Illustration: “WHAT HAVE WE HERE? S. JOSEPH HELP US!”
_Page 3._]
THE LAST ABBOT OF GLASTONBURY.
A Tale of the Dissolution of the Monasteries.
by the
REV. A. D. CRAKE, B.A.,
Fellow of the Royal Historical Society; Vicar of Havenstreet, I.W.;
Author of
Fairleigh Hall, The Chronicles of Æscendune, The Camp on the
Severn, etc., etc.
Oxford and London:
A. R. Mowbray & Co.
HISTORICAL PREFACE.
The Author humbly ventures to offer the ninth of his series of original
tales, illustrating Church History, to the public; encouraged by the
favourable reception the previous volumes have found.
In the tales, “Æmilius,” “Evanus,” and “The Camp on the Severn,” he has
endeavoured to describe the epoch of the Pagan persecutions, under the
Roman Empire; in the “Three Chronicles of Æscendune,” successive epochs
of Early English history; in the “Andredsweald,” the Norman Conquest;
in “Fairleigh Hall,” the Great Rebellion; and in the _present_ volume,
one of the earliest of the series of events ordinarily grouped
under the general phrase “The Reformation,” the destruction of the
Monasteries.
It is many years since the writer was first attracted and yet saddened
by the tragical story of the fate of the last Abbot of Glastonbury, and
amongst the tales by which he was wont to enliven the Sunday evenings
in a large School, this narrative found a foremost place, and excited
very general interest.
A generation ago, few English Churchmen cared to say a good word for
the unhappy monks, who suffered so cruel a persecution at the hands of
Henry the Eighth and his vicar-general, Thomas Cromwell. Many, indeed,
confessed a sentimental regret when they visited the ruins of such
glorious fanes as Tintern, Reading, or Furness, and reflected that but
for the vandalism of the period, such buildings might yet vie with the
cathedrals, with which they were coeval, and if not retained for their
original uses, might yet be devoted to the service of religion and
humanity, in various ways; but the fear of being supposed to betray
a leaning to the doctrines once taught within these ruined walls, has
prevented many a writer from doing justice to the sufferers under
atrocious tyranny.
Yet did an act of parliament now pass the legislature giving the
various episcopal palaces, deaneries, rectories, and vicarages in
England, with all their furniture, to the Crown, and were the present
occupants ruthlessly ejected, and hung, drawn, and quartered in case of
resistance, active or passive, the injustice would not be greater, the
outrage on the rights of property more flagrant, than in the case of
the monasteries.
The late Rev. W. Gresley, in his tale, “The Forest of Arden,” was (so
far as the writer remembers) the first writer of historical fiction,
amongst modern Churchmen, who attempted to render justice to our
forefathers, who, born and bred under the papal supremacy, could not
disguise their convictions, or transfer their allegiance to a lustful
tyrant.
But even he spake with “bated breath” when compared with Dean Hook,
who, later on, thus writes in his lives of the Archbishops of
Canterbury:--
“To an Englishman, taught to regard his house as his castle,
these acts of invasion on property appear to be monstrous; our
blood boils within us when we learn that by blending the Acts
of Supremacy with the Treason Acts the Protestant enthusiasts
under Cromwell condemned to death not fewer than 59 persons,
who, however mistaken they were in their opinions, were as
honest as Latimer, and more firm than Cranmer.
“Of the murders of Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas Moore, the
former the greatest patron of learning, the latter ranking with
the most learned men the age produced, both of them men of
undoubted piety, the reader must not expect in these pages a
justification or even an attempt at palliation; we should be as
ready to accord the crown of martyrdom to the Abbots of Reading
and _Glastonbury_ and to the Prior of S. John’s, Colchester,
when rather than betray their trust they died, as we are to
place it on the heads of Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer. Although
the latter had the better cause, yet we must all admit that
atrocious as were the proceedings under Mary and Bonner, the
persecutions under Henry and Cromwell fill the mind with
greater horror.”
But it may be asked, were not the atrocious crimes laid to the
charge of the monks in the celebrated “Black Book,” the “Compendium
compertorum,” a sufficient justification? Did not the very parliament
at the recital cry “Down with them.”
The opinion of such parliaments as those which passed the absurd and
bloody treason acts dictated by Henry, or which condemned so many
innocent victims by Acts of Attainder, or passed those most atrocious
acts, “the Vagrant Acts,” by which a cruel form of slavery was
established in England, only England would not put it in practice,--the
professed opinion of such parliaments will weigh little with modern
Englishmen.
But it appears that the very accusers themselves, or at least
the Government who employed them, could not have believed in the
accusations; for no less than eleven of the Abbots were made Bishops
to save the Government their pensions, and some of them men against
whom the worst charges had been made; others became deans, and others
were put into positions of trust, as parochial priests, under Cranmer
himself.
And who were the witnesses? Their leader, Dr. London, was put to
penance for the most grievous incontinency, and afterwards thrown into
prison _for perjury_, where he died miserably. Another, Layton, who
figures in the tale, becoming dean of York, pawned the cathedral plate.
Upon the testimony of such witnesses one would not hang a dog.
But this is not the place for an investigation of the subject, nor is
it one to be commended to the pure-minded reader, such garbage did
these venal and foul-mouthed spies invent to justify the rapacity of
their employers. Not that we would maintain the absolute purity of the
monasteries, or that there was no foundation whatsoever upon which
such a superstructure was reared: many of the brotherhoods had fallen
far below the high ideal of their profession, or even the spiritual
attainments of their brethren in earlier and better days; but there
is absolute proof that in many instances the reports of the visitors
were pure inventions. No just Lots were they, “vexed with the filthy
conversation of the wicked,” but men of evil imaginations, who were
paid to invent scandal if they could not find it.[1]
I have not, therefore, hesitated to make the sufferings of the last
Abbot of Glastonbury the theme of a story, but while I have adhered to
the main facts of the tragedy, I have availed myself somewhat of the
usual license accorded to all writers of historical fiction, justified
by the example of the great and revered founder of the school, Sir
Walter Scott.
In particular, the words put into the mouth of the Abbot, both in his
last sermon at Glastonbury and in the trial at Wells, were actually
used by his fellow-sufferer, the Prior of the Charterhouse, John
Houghton, under precisely similar circumstances: the reader will find
the whole of the touching story in the second volume of Froude’s
“History of England;” it is well worth perusal.
It may be objected that one so young as the hero of the latter portion
of the story, “Cuthbert the foundling,” could scarcely have been
exposed to the operation of the Treason Acts, or required to take the
oath of supremacy, in his twenty-first year; but there are examples
of sufferers under this _régime_ at a more tender age: a month or two,
more or less, made small difference in the Tudor period, especially
when the interests of the Crown were concerned, or the will of the
despot expressed. The concealment of the Abbey treasure, and the
sympathy of the Abbot with the Pilgrimage of Grace (how could he be
otherwise disposed) are matters of history.
An attempt has been made, within our memory, by a modern historian,
to whitewash the memory of the royal “Blue Beard,” under whom such
fearful atrocities were committed; we are asked to believe that the
Carthusians, dying dismembered and mutilated in so horrible a manner,
or in the filth of the fetid dungeons in which they were thrown, that
the aged Countess of Salisbury flying about the scaffold with her
gray hairs dabbled in blood, that the Protestants who were burnt, and
Catholics who were drawn and quartered, sometimes on the same day and
at the same place, that such victims as Fisher, More, and Surrey, were
all unwilling sacrifices to a high sense of duty on the part of the
king who slew them, who also was a right honourable husband, plagued by
unworthy wives, and hence deserving of the pity of married men.
But to the writer, the following paragraph from a deservedly popular
history, appears more nearly to represent the truth:--
“The temper of such a legislator as Henry the Eighth, and the
thorough subservience, the otherwise _incredible_ cowardice and
baseness of his parliaments, can only be fully exhibited by an
enumeration of their penal laws, which for number, variety,
severity, and inconsistency are perhaps unequalled in the
annals of jurisprudence.
“Instead of the calmness, the foresight, and the wisdom which
are looked for in a legislator, we find the wild fantasies and
ever-changing, though ever selfish caprices of a spoiled child,
joined to the blind fierce malignant passions of a brutal and
cruel savage. It would seem as if the disembodied demon of a
Caligula or a Nero, the evil spirit that once bore their human
form, had again become incarnate upon earth, let loose for some
wise (though to dull mortal eyes, dimly discerned) end, to
repeat in a distant age, and another clime that same strange,
wild, extravagant medley of buffoonery and horror, which is
fitted to move at once the laughter and execration of mankind.”
(_Knight’s Pictorial History_).
This is strong language, but when one rises from a perusal of the deeds
committed during this reign of terror, it seems justified.
The destruction also of the monastic libraries, and the decay of
solid learning (Latimer being witness), must ever be regretted by
the scholar. Fuller tells us that “the English monks were bookish of
themselves, and much inclined to hoard up monuments of learning.” But
all these treasures were ruthlessly destroyed or scattered, including
books and valuable MS., which would now be worth their weight in gold.
John Ball, by no means a _laudator temporis acti_, wrote to Edward
VI.:--
“A number of them which purchased these superstitious mansions
(the monasteries) reserved of their library books, some to
serve their jakes, some to scour their candlesticks, and some
to rub their boots, some they sold to the grocers and soap
sellers; and some they sent over sea to the bookbinders--not
in small number, but at times whole ships full.... I know a
merchant man, which shall at this time be nameless, that bought
the contents of two noble libraries for forty shillings a
piece. A shame it is to be spoken. This stuff hath he occupied
instead of grey paper by the space of more than these ten
years, and yet he hath store enough for as many years to come.”
It is true the monks were accused of leading idle lives; but to the
unlearned, especially those who get their bread by physical labour, the
student poring over his books is always “a drone.”
It may be most true that the monastic system, so serviceable in
the middle ages, the only shelter for peaceful men in the midst of
bloodshed and strife, the only refuge for learning amongst the densely
ignorant, had had its day; that the hospitals, the almshouses, the
workhouses, the schools and colleges, do all the work they once did,
and do it better, that in the ages, then to come, they could have
filled no useful purpose had they survived.
Well! supposing this granted, does it in any way justify the cruelty
of the suppression? The judicious Hallam well observes, that “it is
impossible to feel too much indignation at the spirit in which these
proceedings were conducted.” Had vested and life interests been
respected, had the admission of further novices been prohibited, and
the buildings themselves, when no longer needed, utilized as hospitals
and colleges, and the like; whatever men might think of the change,
they would at least admit the moderation of the government; but what
consideration can justify the intolerable barbarity of the persecutions.
Two questions may be asked, first, what became of the monks, nearly
a hundred thousand, in a population of some three millions, who were
thus, with the most meagre of pensions, cruelly turned out of house and
home.
It must be replied that a large number, in fact all who could by any
contrivance be brought under the scope of either of the numerous laws
involving capital punishment, perished by the hand of the executioner.
For example, begging in the first instance was punished by whipping,
in the second by mutilation, and in the third the beggar was doomed
“to suffer pains and execution of death as a felon, and enemy of
the commonwealth.”[2] This cruel law, which was probably drawn up
by Henry himself, was doubtless aimed especially at the unfortunate
monks, who unfitted for labour by their sedentary lives, and unable
to obtain work, would often be forced to the dreadful alternative of
starvation or hanging. How many starving monks must have fallen into
this dreadful trap, for their pensions even if regularly paid were
miserably insufficient, and preferred to hang than to starve; doubtless
they formed a large proportion of the eighty thousand criminals, who
are said to have perished, by the hands of the executioner, in this
dreadful reign.
Secondly: what became of the monastic property amounting, it has been
said, to a sum equivalent to fifty millions sterling of our present
money, which was to have almost superseded taxation, and accomplished
other wonderful ends? It disappeared under Henry’s incomprehensible
extravagance, and at the hands of his greedy courtiers; and not only
was he forced in his latter days to debase the currency, but moreover
in the last November of his life, his venal parliament conferred upon
him the absolute disposal of all colleges, charities, and hospitals in
the kingdom, with all their manors, lands, and hereditaments, receiving
only in return his gracious promise that they should all be applied for
the public good. Had God not summoned the tyrant to give an account
of his stewardship, within two months of the act, we might not have
had a college, school, almshouse, or hospital left in England, any
more than a monastery; “had he survived a little while longer,” says
the impartial writer I have before quoted, “he would not have left an
hospital for the care of the sick, or a school for the instruction of
youth.”
But I have already taxed the patience of my readers; I have promised
them a tale and instead I am writing an essay.
A. D. C.
_December, 1883._
FOOTNOTES
[1] The reader will find this subject fully and fairly treated in the
sixth chapter of the Rev. J. H. Blunt’s “History of the Reformation”
and the first introductory chapter of the first volume of the new
series of Dean Hook’s “Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury,” from
which I have already quoted.
[2] 22 Henry VIII. Cap. 12, and 27 Henry VIII. Cap. 25.
INDEX.
CHAP. PAGE.
PART I.--The Last Abbot.
PROLOGUE 1
1.--ALL HALLOW EVEN 7
2.--RETROSPECT 16
3.--THE SECRET CHAMBER 27
4.--THE ARREST 33
5.--THE ROAD-SIDE INN 44
6.--THE TRIAL 55
7.--GLASTONBURY TOR 65
8.--ON THE TRACK 74
9.--IN THE RUINS OF THE ABBEY 91
PART II.--Cuthbert the Foundling.
1.--THE OLD MANOR HOUSE 101
2.--AN EVENTFUL RAMBLE 111
3.--AN ACT OF GRATITUDE 122
4.--EXETER GAOL 135
5.--PUT TO THE QUESTION 145
6.--AN UNEXPECTED DISCLOSURE 154
7.--CASTLE REDFYRNE 164
8.--LED FORTH TO DIE 177
9.--BREATHING TIME 187
10.--THE SHADOWS DARKEN | 213.521487 | 985 |
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Produced by Alan Light. HTML version by Al Haines.
Renascence and Other Poems
by
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Contents:
Renascence
All I could see from where I stood
Interim
The room is full of you!--As I came in
The Suicide
"Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more!
God's World
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Afternoon on a Hill
I will be the gladdest thing
Sorrow
Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
Tavern
I'll keep a little tavern
Ashes of Life
Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
The Little Ghost
I knew her for a little ghost
Kin to Sorrow
Am I kin to Sorrow,
Three Songs of Shattering
I
The first rose on my rose-tree
II
Let the little birds sing;
III
All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree!
The Shroud
Death, I say, my heart is bowed
The Dream
Love, if I weep it will not matter,
Indifference
I said,--for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,--
Witch-Wife
She is neither pink nor pale,
Blight
Hard seeds of hate I planted
When the Year Grows Old
I cannot but remember
Sonnets
I
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,--no,
II
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
III
Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring,
IV
Not in this chamber only at my birth--
V
If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
VI Bluebeard
This door you might not open, and you did;
Renascence and Other Poems
Renascence
All I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked another way,
And saw three islands in a bay.
So with my eyes I traced the line
Of the horizon, thin and fine,
Straight around till I was come
Back to where I'd started from;
And all I saw from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood.
Over these things I could not see;
These were the things that bounded me;
And I could touch them with my hand,
Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
And all at once things seemed so small
My breath came short, and scarce at all.
But, sure, the sky is big, I said;
Miles and miles above my head;
So here upon my back I'll lie
And look my fill into the sky.
And so I looked, and, after all,
The sky was not so very tall.
The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,
And--sure enough!--I see the top!
The sky, I thought, is not so grand;
I'most could touch it with my hand!
And reaching up my hand to try,
I screamed to feel it touch the sky.
I screamed, and--lo!--Infinity
Came down and settled over me;
Forced back my scream into my chest,
Bent back my arm upon my breast,
And, pressing of the Undefined
The definition on my mind,
Held up before my eyes a glass
Through which my shrinking sight did pass
Until it seemed I must behold
Immensity made manifold;
Whispered to me a word whose sound
Deafened the air for worlds around,
And brought unmuffled to my ears
The gossiping of friendly spheres,
The creaking of the tented sky,
The ticking of Eternity.
I saw and heard, and knew at last
The How and Why of all things, past,
And present, and forevermore.
The Universe, cleft to the core,
Lay open to my probing sense
That, sick'ning, I would fain pluck thence
But could not,--nay! But needs must suck
At the great wound, and could not pluck
My lips away till I had drawn
All venom out.--Ah, fearful pawn!
For my omniscience paid I toll
In infinite remorse of soul.
All sin was of my sinning, all
Atoning | 213.623616 | 986 |
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Transcribed from the 1897 Archibald Constable and Company edition by
David Price, email [email protected]
AN ESSAY ON COMEDY AND THE USES OF THE COMIC SPIRIT
by George Meredith
_This Essay was first published in 'The New Quarterly Magazine' for April
1877_.
ON THE IDEA OF COMEDY AND OF THE USES OF THE COMIC SPIRIT {1}
Good Comedies are such rare productions, that notwithstanding the wealth
of our literature in the Comic element, it would not occupy us long to
run over the English list. If they are brought to the test I shall
propose, very reputable Comedies will be found unworthy of their station,
like the ladies of Arthur's Court when they were reduced to the ordeal of
the mantle.
There are plain reasons why the Comic poet is not a frequent apparition;
and why the great Comic poet remains without a fellow. A society of
cultivated men and women is required, wherein ideas are current and the
perceptions quick, that he may be supplied with matter and an audience.
The semi-barbarism of merely giddy communities, and feverish emotional
periods, repel him; and also a state of marked social inequality of the
sexes; nor can he whose business is to address the mind be understood
where there is not a moderate degree of intellectual activity.
Moreover, to touch and kindle the mind through laughter, demands more
than sprightliness, a most subtle delicacy. That must be a natal gift in
the Comic poet. The substance he deals with will show him a startling
exhibition of the dyer's hand, if he is without it. People are ready to
surrender themselves to witty thumps on the back, breast, and sides; all
except the head: and it is there that he aims. He must be subtle to
penetrate. A corresponding acuteness must exist to welcome him. The
necessity for the two conditions will explain how it is that we count him
during centuries in the singular number.
'C'est une etrange entreprise que celle de faire rire les honnetes gens,'
Moliere says; and the difficulty of the undertaking cannot be
over-estimated.
Then again, he is beset with foes to right and left, of a character
unknown to the tragic and the lyric poet, or even to philosophers.
We have in this world men whom Rabelais would call agelasts; that is to
say, non-laughers; men who are in that respect as dead bodies, which if
you prick them do not bleed. The old grey boulder-stone that has
finished its peregrination from the rock to the valley, is as easily to
be set rolling up again as these men laughing. No collision of
circumstances in our mortal career strikes a light for them. It is but
one step from being agelastic to misogelastic, and the [Greek text], the
laughter-hating, soon learns to dignify his dislike as an objection in
morality.
We have another class of men, who are pleased to consider themselves
antagonists of the foregoing, and whom we may term hypergelasts; the
excessive laughers, ever-laughing, who are as clappers of a bell, that
may be rung by a breeze, a grimace; who are so loosely put together that
a wink will shake them.
'... C'est n'estimer rien qu'estioner tout le monde,'
and to laugh at everything is to have no appreciation of the Comic of
Comedy.
Neither of these distinct divisions of non-laughers and over-laughers
would be entertained by reading The Rape of the Lock, or seeing a
performance of Le Tartuffe. In relation to the stage, they have taken in
our land the form and title of Puritan and Bacchanalian. For though the
stage is no longer a public offender, and Shakespeare has been revived on
it, to give it nobility, we have not yet entirely raised it above the
contention of these two parties. Our speaking on the theme of Comedy
will appear almost a libertine proceeding to one, while the other will
think that the speaking of it seriously brings us into violent contrast
with the subject.
Comedy, we have to admit, was never one of the most honoured of the
Muses. She was in her origin, short of slaughter, the loudest expression
of the little civilization of men. The light of Athene over the head of
Achilles illuminates the birth of Greek Traged | 213.659715 | 987 |
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[Illustration: _Frontispiece_ COLLIE CHASED HIM AWAY _Page 138_]
AMONG THE NIGHT PEOPLE
BY
CLARA DILLINGHAM PIERSON
Author of "Among the Meadow People," "Pond People," etc.
Illustrated by F. C. GORDON
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
COPYRIGHT, 1902
by
E. P. DUTTON & CO.
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
TO
RACHEL W. PIERSON
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE BLACK SPANISH CHICKENS 1
THE WIGGLERS BECOME MOSQUITOES 15
THE NAUGHTY RACCOON CHILDREN 30
THE TIMID LITTLE GROUND HOG 43
THE YOUNG RACCOONS GO TO A PARTY 55
THE SKUNKS AND THE OVEN-BIRD'S NEST 68
THE LAZY CUT-WORMS 82
THE NIGHT-MOTH'S PARTY 94
THE LONELY OLD BACHELOR MUSKRAT 110
THE GREEDY RED FOX 131
THE UNFORTUNATE FIREFLIES 148
THE KITTENS COME TO THE FOREST 160
THE INQUISITIVE WEASELS 176
THE THRIFTY DEER-MOUSE 190
THE HUMMING-BIRD AND THE HAWK-MOTH 208
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THEY WERE FREE TO GO WHERE THEY CHOSE 6
KNOCKED HIS BROTHER DOWN 40
HE STARTED OFF FOR A NIGHT'S RAMBLE 72
THEY LIVED IN THE FOREST AFTER THAT 109
THE MARSH SEEMED SO EMPTY AND LONELY 127
COLLIE CHASED HIM AWAY _Frontispiece_ 138
TWINKLING WITH HUNDREDS OF TINY LIGHTS 157
IN WINTER THEY TURNED WHITE 178
THE MICE MAKE WINTER THEIR PLAYTIME 195
THE HUMMING-BIRD AND THE HAWK-MOTH 218
[Illustration]
MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS:--You can never guess how much I have enjoyed
writing these stories of the night-time, and I must tell you how I first
came to think of doing so. I once knew a girl--and she was not a very
little girl, either,--who was afraid of the dark. And I have known three
boys who were as brave as could be by daylight, but who would not run on
an errand alone after the lamps were lighted. They never seemed to think
what a beautiful, restful, growing time the night is for plants and
animals, and even for themselves. I thought that if they knew more of
what happens between sunset and sunrise they would love the night as
well as I.
It may be that you will never see Bats flying freely, or find the Owls
flapping silently among the trees without touching even a twig. Perhaps
while these things are happening you must be snugly tucked in bed. But
that is no reason why you should not be told what they do while you are
dreaming. Before this, you know, I have told you more of what is done by
daylight in meadow, forest, farmyard, and pond. It would be a very queer
world if we could not know about things without seeing them for
ourselves, and you may like to think, when you are going to sleep, that
hundreds and thousands of tiny out-of-door people are turning, and
stretching, and going to find their food. In the morning, when you are
dressing in your sunshiny rooms, they are cuddling down for a good day's
rest.
I think I ought to tell you that I have not been alone when writing
these stories. I have often been in the meadow and the forest at night,
and have seen and heard many interesting things, but my good Cat,
Silvertip, has known far more than I of the night-doings of the
out-of-door people. He has been beside me at my desk, and although at
times he has shut his eyes and taken Cat-naps while I wrote, there have
been many other times when he has taken the pen right out of my hand. He
has even tried running the typewriter with his dainty white paws, and he
has gone over every story I have written. I do not say that he has
written any himself, but you can | 213.75372 | 988 |
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THE JOURNALS
OF
MAJOR-GEN. C. G. GORDON, C.B.,
_AT KARTOUM_.
[Illustration: MAJOR-GEN. C. G. GORDON, C.B.]
THE JOURNALS
OF
MAJOR-GEN. C. G. GORDON, C.B.,
AT KARTOUM.
_PRINTED FROM THE ORIGINAL MSS._
INTRODUCTION AND NOTES
BY
A. EGMONT HAKE,
AUTHOR OF “THE STORY OF CHINESE GORDON,” ETC.
WITH PORTRAIT, TWO MAPS, AND THIRTY ILLUSTRATIONS AFTER SKETCHES
BY GENERAL GORDON.
[Illustration: LOGO]
LONDON:
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, & CO., 1 PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
1885.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED.
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._
PREFACE.
THE work of editing these Journals is at an end; it only remains
now for me to thank one of my oldest and most valued friends, whose
assistance in every way I wish most thoroughly to acknowledge: this
is Mr. Godfrey Thrupp. When it became obvious that the public demand
for the work made its completion in so short a time impossible—as the
conscientious achievement of one man—he generously came forward. His
knowledge of the East and his deep interest in the subject made him an
| 213.934058 | 989 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Lady in the Car
By William Le Queux
Published by J.B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia.
This edition dated 1908.
The Lady in the Car, by William Le Queux.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
THE LADY IN THE CAR, BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX.
PREFACE.
AN APOLOGY.
I hereby tender an apology to the reader for being compelled, in these
curious chronicles of an adventurous motorist and his actions towards
certain of his female acquaintances, to omit real names, and to
substitute assumed ones. With the law of libel looming darkly, the
reason is obvious.
Since the days when, as lads, we played cricket together at Cheltenham
"the Prince," always a sportsman and always generous to the poor, has
ever been my friend. In the course of my own wandering life of the past
dozen years or so, I have come across him in all sorts of unexpected
places up and down Europe, and more especially in those countries beyond
the Danube which we term the Balkans.
For certain of his actions, and for the ingenuity of his somewhat
questionable friends, I make no apology. While the game of
"mug-hunting" remains so easy and so profitable, there will be always
both hunters and hunted. As my friend's escapades were related to me,
so have I set them down in the following pages, in the belief that my
readers may perhaps care to make more intimate acquaintance with the
clever, fearless, and altogether remarkable man whose exploits have
already, from time to time, been referred to in guarded and mysterious
terms by the daily press.
William Le Queux.
CHAPTER ONE.
HIS HIGHNESS'S LOVE AFFAIR.
The Prince broke open a big box of choice "Petroffs," selected one, lit
it slowly, and walked pensively to the window.
He was in a good mood that morning, for he had just got rid of a
troublesome visitor.
The big _salon_ was elegantly furnished with long mirrors, gilt chairs
covered with sky-blue silk upholstery, a piano, and a pretty
writing-table set close to the long window, which led out to a balcony
shaded by a red-and-white sun-blind--the _salon_ of the best suite in
the Majestic, that huge hotel facing the sea in King's Road, Brighton.
He was a tall, well-set-up man of about thirty-three; dark-haired,
good-looking, easy-going, and refined, who, for the exception of the
slightest trace of foreign accent in his speech, might easily have been
mistaken for an Englishman. In his well-cut dark brown flannels and
brown shoes he went to the balcony, and, leaning over, gazed down upon
the sun-lit promenade, full of life and movement below.
His arrival a few days before had caused quite a flutter in the big
hotel. He had not noticed it, of course, being too used to it. He
travelled a great deal--indeed, he was always travelling nowadays--and
had learned to treat the constant endeavours of unknown persons to
scrape acquaintance with him with the utter disregard they deserved.
Not often did the Majestic, so freely patronised by the stockbroker and
the newly-rich, hold as guest any person equalling the Prince in social
distinction, yet at the same time so modest and retiring. The blatant
persons overcrowding the hotel that August Sunday, those pompous,
red-faced men in summer clothes and white boots, and those over-dressed
women in cream silk blouses and golden chatelaines, mostly denizens of
Kensington or Regent's Park, had been surprised when an hour ago he had
walked along the hall and gone outside to speak with his chauffeur. He
was so very good-looking, such a sportsman, and so very English they
whispered. And half of those City men's wives were instantly dying for
an opportunity of speaking with him, so that they could return to their
suburban friends and tell of their acquaintance with the cousin of his
Imperial Majesty the Kaiser.
But Prince Albert of Hesse-Holstein was thinking of other things. He
had no use for that over-fed Sunday crowd, with their slang chatter,
their motor-cars and their gossip of "bithneth," through which he had
just passed. He drew half a dozen times at his yellow Russian
cigarette, tossed it away, and lit another.
He was thinking of his visitor who had just left, and--well, there
remained a nasty taste in his mouth. The man had told him something--
something that was not exactly pleasant. Anyhow, he had got rid of him.
So Prince Albert Ernst Karl Wilhelm, head of the great house of
Hesse-Holstein, grand-cross of the Orders of the Black Eagle, Saint Sava
and the Elephant, and Commander of St Hubert and of the Crown of Italy,
returned again to the balcony, smoked on, and watched.
In the meantime, in the big hall below, sat a well-dressed elderly lady
with her daughter, a pretty, fair-haired, blue-eyed girl of twenty, a
dainty figure in white, who wore a jade bangle upon her left wrist.
They were Americans on a tour with "poppa" through Europe. Mr Robert
K. Jesup, of Goldfields, Nevada, had gone to pay a pilgrimage to
Stratford-on-Avon, while his wife and daughter were awaiting him in
Brighton.
With the inquisitiveness of the American girl Mary Jesup had obtained
the "Almanach de Gotha" from the reading-room, and both mother and
daughter were, with difficulty, translating into English the following
notice of the Prince's family which they found within the little
red-covered book:
"Evangeliques--Souche: Widukind III, comte de Schwalenberg (principaute
de Holstein), 1116-1137; bailli a Arolsen et acquisition du chateau de
Hesse vers, 1150; Comte du Saint Empire de Hesse, 1349, dignite
confirme, 22 juin, 1548; bailli de Wildungen, 1475; acquisition
d'Eisenberg (chateau fort, aujourd'hui en ruines, situe sur la montagne
du meme nom) vers, 1485; acquisition par heritage du comte de Pyrmont,
1631; coll. du titre de `Hoch et Wohlgeboren,' Vienne, 25 fevr., 1627;
pretention a l'heritage du comte de Rappolstein (Ribeaupierre
Haute-Alsace) et des seigneuries de Hohenack et de Geroldseck (ibidem)
par suite du mariage (2 juill, 1658) du cte Chretien-Louis, ne 29 juill,
1635, + 12 dec. 1706, avec Elisabeth de Rappolstein, nee 7 Mars, 1644, +
6 dec. 1676, apres la mort de son oncle Jean-Jacques dernier comte de
Rappolstein, 28 juill, 1673; les lignes ci-dessus descendent de deux
fils (freres consaiguins) du susdit Chretien-Louis comte de
Hesse-Eisenberg, de Pyrmont et Rappolstein, etc.--V. L'edition de 1832
(Page 84)."
"There, mother!" exclaimed the pretty girl. "Why, they were an ancient
family even before America was discovered! Isn't he real nice? Say! I
only wish we knew him."
"Ah, my dear," replied the elder woman with a sigh. "Those kind of
people never know us. He's a royalty."
"But he looks such a nice man. What a lovely car he's got--real fine!
I've been out to see it. How I wish he'd take us for a ride."
"You'd better ask him, my dear," laughed her mother.
"Guess I shouldn't be backward. I believe he would in a moment, if I
asked him very nicely," she exclaimed, laughing in chorus. Truth to
tell, she had admired him when she had first encountered him two days
ago. She had been seated in one of those wicker chairs outside the door
in King's Road, when he had come out and taken the chair next to hers,
awaiting his car--a big sixty "Mercedes" painted cream, with the
princely arms and crown upon its panels.
He was talking in English to his man, who had carried out his
motor-coat. He was a prince--one of the wealthiest of all the German
princes, a keen automobilist, a sportsman who had hunted big game in
German East Africa, a landlord who owned a principality with half a
dozen mediaeval castles and some of the finest estates in the German
Empire, and one of the Kaiser's most intimate relatives. And yet he was
travelling with only his man and his motor-car.
Though Mary Jesup was heiress to the two millions sterling which her
father had made during the past three years--as half the people in the
hotel knew--yet she was aware that even her father's wealth could not
purchase for her the title of Princess of Hesse-Holstein. She was a
very charming girl, bright, athletic and go-ahead--a typical American
girl of to-day--and as she strolled out along the pier with her mother,
her thoughts constantly reverted to the young man in brown who had given
her more than one glance when he had passed.
Meanwhile, there had entered to the Prince his faithful valet Charles, a
tall, thin, clean-shaven Englishman, some four years his senior.
"Well?" asked his Highness sharply casting himself into an easy-chair,
and taking another "Petroff."
"Got rid of him--eh?"
"Yes--but it was difficult. I gave him a couple of sovereigns, and made
an appointment to meet him in the bar of the Cecil, in London, next
Thursday at four."
"Good. That gives us time," remarked the Prince with a sigh of relief.
"And about the girl? What have you found out?"
"She and her mother dined in the _table-d'hote_ room last night, and
took coffee afterwards in the Palm Court. The father is the man who
owns the gold-mines in Nevada--worth ten million dollars. Last year he
gave half a million dollars to charity, and bought the Bourbon pearls
for his wife. Gave eighty thousand pounds for them. She's got them
here, a long string twice round her neck and reaches to her waist.
She's wearing them to-day, and everybody, of course, thinks they're
false."
"How foolish these American women are! Fancy wearing pearls of that
price in the open street! Why, she might easily be robbed," his master
remarked.
"But who'd believe they're genuine? They're too big to take a thiefs
fancy," replied the faithful Charles. "The Jesups seem fond of
jewellery. Miss Mary has a lovely diamond necklet--"
"And wore it last night, I suppose?"
"Of course. They are newly-rich people, and crowd it all on. Yet, what
does it matter? Men like Jesup can easily buy more if they lose it.
Why, to have her jewels stolen is only a big advertisement for the
American woman. Haven't you seen cases in the paper--mostly at Newport
they seem to occur."
"The girl is pretty--distinctly pretty, Charles," remarked the Prince
slowly, with a philosophic air.
"Yes, your Highness. And she'd esteem it a great honour if you spoke to
her, I'm sure."
Prince Albert pursed his lips.
"I think not. These American girls have a good deal of spirit. She'd
most probably snub me."
"I think not. I passed through the hall five minutes ago, and she was
looking you up in the `Almanach de Gotha.'"
His Highness started.
"Was she?" he cried with quick interest. "Then she evidently knows all
about me by this time! I wonder--" and he paused without concluding his
sentence.
Charles saw that his master was thinking deeply, so he busied himself by
putting some papers in order.
"She's uncommonly pretty," his Highness declared presently. "But dare I
speak to her, Charles? You know what these Americans are."
"By all means speak to her. The mother and daughter would be company
for you for a few days. You could invite them to go motoring, and
they'd no doubt accept," the man suggested.
"I don't want the same experience that we had in Vichy, you know."
"Oh, never fear. These people are quite possible. Their wealth hasn't
spoilt them--as far as I can hear."
"Very well, Charles." The Prince laughed, tossing his cigarette-end
into the grate, and rising. "I'll make some excuse to speak with them."
And Charles, on his part, entertained shrewd suspicions that his master,
confirmed bachelor that he was, had, at last, been attracted by a girl's
fresh, fair beauty, and that girl an American.
Time hung heavily upon the Prince's hands. That afternoon he ran over
in his car to Worthing, where he dined at Warne's, and the evening he
spent in lonely state in a box at the Brighton Alhambra. Truth to tell,
he found himself thinking always of the sweet-faced, rather saucy
American girl, whose waist was so neat, whose tiny shoes were so
pointed, and whose fair hair was always drawn straight back from her
intelligent brow.
Yes. He felt he must know her. The morrow came, and with it an
opportunity occurred to speak with her mother.
They were sitting, as it is usual to sit, at the door of the hotel, when
a mishap to a dog-cart driven by a well-known actress gave him the
desired opportunity, and ten minutes later he had the satisfaction of
bowing before Mary Jesup herself.
He strolled with them on to the Pier, chatting so very affably that both
mother and daughter could hardly believe that he was the cousin of an
Emperor. Then, at his request to be allowed to join them at their table
at luncheon, they had their midday meal together.
The girl in white was altogether charming, and so unlike the
milk-and-water misses of Germany, or the shy, dark-eyed minxes of France
or Italy, so many of whom had designed to become Princess of
Hesse-Holstein. Her frank open manner, her slight American twang, and
her Americanisms he found all delightful. Mrs Jesup, too, was a
sensible woman, although this being the first occasion that either
mother or daughter had even met a prince, they used "Your Highness" a
trifle too frequently.
Nevertheless, he found this companionship of both women most charming.
"What a splendid motor-car you have!" Mary remarked when, after
luncheon, they were taking their coffee in the Palm Court at the back of
the hotel.
"I'm very fond of motoring, Miss Jesup. Are you?" was his Highness's
reply.
"I love it. Poppa's got a car. We brought it over with us and ran
around France in it. We left it in Paris till we get back to the
Continent in the fall. Then we do Italy," she said.
"Perhaps you would like to have a run with me and your mother
to-morrow," the Prince suggested. "It's quite pretty about the
neighbourhood."
"I'm sure you're very kind, Prince," responded the elder woman. "We
should be charmed. And further, I guess my husband'll be most delighted
to meet you when he gets down here. He's been in Germany a lot."
"I shall be very pleased to meet Mr Jesup," the young patrician
responded. "Till he comes, there's no reason why we should not have a
few runs--that is, if you're agreeable."
"Oh! it'll be real lovely!" declared Mary, her pretty face brightening
in anticipation of the pleasure of motoring with the man she so admired.
"Then what about running over to Eastbourne to tea to-day?" he
suggested.
Mother and daughter exchanged glances. "Well," replied Mrs Jesup, "we
don't wish to put you out in the least, Prince. I'm sure--"
"Good! You'll both come. I'll order the car for three o'clock."
The Prince ascended the stairs much gratified. He had made a very
creditable commencement. The hundred or so of other girls of various
nations who had been presented to him with matrimonial intent could not
compare with her, either for beauty, for charm, or for intelligence.
It was a pity, he reflected, that she was not of royal, or even noble
birth.
Charles helped him on with a light motor-coat, and, as he did so, asked:
"If the Parson calls, what am I to say?"
"Say what you like, only send him back to London. Tell him he is better
off in Bayswater than in Brighton. He'll understand."
"He may want some money. He wrote to you yesterday, remember."
"Then give him fifty pounds, and tell him that when I want to see him
I'll wire. I want to be alone just now, Charles," he added a trifle
impatiently. "You've got the key of my despatch-box, eh?"
"Yes, your Highness."
Below, he found the big cream- car in waiting. Some of the
guests were admiring it, for it had an extra long wheelbase and a big
touring body and hood--a car that was the last word in all that was
comfort in automobilism.
The English chauffeur, Garrett, in drab livery faced with scarlet, and
with the princely cipher and crown upon his buttons, raised his hat on
the appearance of his master. And again when a moment later the two
ladies, in smart motor-coats, white caps, and champagne- veils,
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Produced by Ted Garvin, Andre Lapierre and PG Distributed Proofreaders
The Golden Canyon
by
G.A. Henty
New York
Hurst & Company Publishers.
1899
Contents
The Golden Canyon.
Chapter
I. A Run Ashore
II. Dick's Escape
III. The Gold-Seekers
IV. More Plans
V. The Search For The Canyon
VI. The Map Again
VII. The Scarcity Of Water
VIII. The Golden Valley
IX. The Tree On The Peak
X. Watched
XI. Hard At Work
XII. Retreat
XIII. The Redskin
XIV. In The Ravine
XV. Rifle-Shots
XVI. On The Return
XVII. Conclusion
Contents
The Stone Chest.
Chapter
I. A Mystery Of The Storm
II. Off For Zaruth
III. Among The Icebergs
IV. The Escape From The Icebergs
V. The Arctic Island
VI. The Madman
VII. A Fearful Fall
VIII. A Remarkable Story
IX. The Volcano Of Ice
X. The Escape Of The "Dart"
XI. Among A Strange Foe
XII. Bob's Discovery
XIII. The Big Polar Bear
XIV. The Finding Of The Stone Chest
XV. Bob Rescues His Father--Conclusion
Publishers' Introduction
George Alfred Henty has been called "The Prince of Story-Tellers." To
call him "The Boy's Own Historian" would perhaps be a more appropriate
title, for time has proved that he is more than a story-teller; he is a
preserver and propagator of history amongst boys.
How Mr. Henty has risen to be worthy of these enviable titles is a story
which will doubtless possess some amount of interest for all his
readers.
Henty may be said to have begun his preliminary training for his
life-work when a boy attending school at Westminster. Even then the germ
of his story-telling propensity seems to have evinced itself, for he was
always awarded the highest marks in English composition.
From Westminster he went to Cambridge, where he was enrolled as a
student at Caius College. It is a decided change of scenery and
circumstances from Cambridge to the Crimea, but such was the change
which took place in Mr. Henty's career at the age of twenty-one.
An appointment in connection with the commissariat department of the
British army, took him from the scenes of student life into the
excitement of the Muscovite war.
Previous to this, however, he had written his first novel, which he has
characterized as "Very bad, no doubt, and was, of course, never
published, but the plot was certainly a good one."
Whilst engaged with his duties at the Crimea he sent home several
descriptive letters of the places, people, and circumstances passing
under his notice. His father, thinking some of those letters were of
more than private interest, took a selection of them to the editor of
the _Morning Advertiser_, who, after perusal of them, was so well
pleased with their contents that he at once appointed young Henty as war
correspondent to the paper in the Crimea.
The ability with which he discharged his duties in the commissariat
department at that time soon found for him another sphere of similar
work in connection with the hospital of the Italian forces. After a
short time this was relinquished for engagement in mining work, which he
first entered into at Wales, and then in Italy.
Ten years after his Crimean correspondence to the _Morning Advertiser_
he again took to writing, and at this time obtained the position of
special correspondent to the _Standard_. While holding this post, he
contributed letters and articles on the wars in Italy and Abyssinia, and
on the expedition to Khiva. Two novels came from his pen during this
time, but his attention was mostly devoted to miscellaneous letters and
articles.
It is a specially interesting incident in the career of Mr. Henty how he
came to turn his attention to writing for boys. When at home, after
dinner, it was his habit to spend an hour or so with his children in
telling them stories, and generally amusing them. A story begun one day
would be so framed as "to be continued in the next," and so the same
story would run on for a few days, each day's portion forming a sort of
chapter, until the whole was completed. Some of the stories continued
for weeks. Mr. Henty, seeing the fascination and interest which these
stories had for his own children, bethought himself that others might
receive from them the same delight and interest if they were put into
book form. He at once acted upon the suggestion and wrote out a chapter
of his story for each day, and instead of telling it to his children in
an extempore fashion, read what he had written. When the story was
completed, the various chapters were placed together and dispatched to a
publisher, who at once accepted and published it. It was in this way the
long series of historical stories which has come from his powerful pen
was inaugurated, and G.A. Henty was awarded the title of "The Prince of
Story-Tellers."
There is in this incident a glimpse of the character of our author which
endears him to us all. The story of his kindly interest in his own
children surely creates a liking for him in the hearts of the children
of others. The man who can spend an hour in telling stories to his
little ones, and retain their attention and interest, has an evident
sympathy with, and power over, the youthful nature. Time has proved such
is the case with G.A. Henty, for up to the present he has written close
on fifty stories for boys, which have been received with unbounded joy
and satisfaction by all.
As an indication of the reception which his books have met with, the
following may be quoted from an English paper:
"G.A. Henty, the English writer of juveniles, is the most popular writer
in England to-day in point of sales. Over 150,000 copies of his books
are sold in a year, and in America he sells from 25,000 to 50,000 during
a year."
"All the world" is the sphere from which Mr. Henty draws his pictures
and characters for the pleasure of the young. Almost every country in
the world has been studied to do service in this way, with the result
that within the series of books which Mr. Henty has produced for the
young we find such places dealt with as Carthage, Egypt, Jerusalem,
Scotland, Spain, England, Afghanistan, Ashanti, Ireland, France, India,
Gibraltar, Waterloo, Alexandria, Venice, Mexico, Canada, Virginia, and
California. Doubtless what other countries remain untouched as yet are
but so many fields to be attacked, and which every lad hopes to see
conquered in the same masterly way in which the previous ones have been
handled.
As a rule much of what boys learn at school is left behind them when
classes are given up for the sterner work of the world. Unless there is
a special demand for a certain subject, that subject is apt to become a
thing of the past, both in theory and practice. This, however, is not
likely to be the case with history, so long as G.A. Henty writes books
for boys, and boys read them. History is his especial forte, and that he
is able to invest the dry facts of history with life, and make them
attractive to the modern schoolboy, says not a little for his power as a
story-teller for boys. It is questionable if history has any better
means of fixing itself in the minds of youthful readers than as it is
read in the pages of G.A. Henty's works. There is about it an attraction
which cannot be resisted; a most unusual circumstance in connection with
such a subject. All this of course means for Mr. Henty a vast amount of
research and study to substantiate his facts and make his situations,
characters, places, and points of time authentic. To the reader it means
a benefit which is incalculable, not only as a means of passing a
pleasant hour, but in reviving or imparting a general knowledge of the
history and geography, the manners and customs of our own and other
lands.
There is a noticeable element of "Freedom" which runs through Mr.
Henty's books, and in this may be said to lie their influence. From them
lads get an elevating sense of independence, and a stimulus to patriotic
and manly endeavor. His pages provide the purest form of intellectual
excitement which it is possible to put into the hands of lads. They are
always vigorous and healthy, and a power for the strengthening of the
moral as well as the intellectual life.
In the present work, "The Golden Canyon," a tale of the gold mines, Mr.
Henty has fully sustained his reputation, and we feel certain all boys
will read the book with keen interest.
The Golden Canyon
Chapter I.--A Run Ashore.
In the month of August, 1856, the bark _Northampton_ was lying in the
harbor of San Diego. In spite of the awning spread over her deck the
heat was almost unbearable. Not a breath of wind was stirring in the
land-locked harbor, and the bare and arid country round the town
afforded no relief to the eye. The town itself looked mean and
poverty-stricken, for it was of comparatively modern growth, and
contained but a few buildings of importance. Long low warehouses fringed
the shore, for here came for shipping vast quantities of hides; as San
Diego, which is situated within a few miles of the frontier between the
United States and Mexico, is the sole sheltered port available for
shipping between San Francisco and the mouth of the Gulf of California.
Two or three other ships which were, like the _Northampton_, engaged in
shipping hides, lay near her. A sickening odor rose from the half-cured
skins as they were swung up from boats alongside and lowered into the
hold, and in spite of the sharp orders of the mates, the crew worked
slowly and listlessly.
"This is awful, Tom," a lad of about sixteen, in the uniform of a
midshipman, said to another of about the same age as, after the last
boat had left the ship's sides, they leaned against the bulwarks; "what
with the heat, and what with the stench, and what with the captain and
the first mate, life is not worth living. However, only another two or
three days and we shall be full up, and once off we shall get rid of a
good deal of the heat and most of the smell."
"Yes, we shall be better off in those respects, Dick, but unfortunately
we shan't leave the captain and mate behind."
"No, I don't know which I like worst of them. It is a contrast to our
last sip, Tom. What a good time we had of it on board the _Zebra_! The
captain was a brick, and the mates were all good fellows. In fact, we
have always been fortunate since the day we first came on board together
up to now. I can't think how the owners ever appointed Collet to the
command; he is not one of their own officers. But when Halford was taken
suddenly ill I suppose they had no others at home to put in his place,
so had to go outside. My father said that Mr. Thompson had told him that
they heard that he was a capital sailor, and I have no doubt he is. He
certainly handled her splendidly in that big storm we had rounding the
Cape. I suppose they did not inquire much farther, as we took no
passengers out to San Francisco, and were coming out to pick up a cargo
of hides here for the return journey; but he is a tyrant on board, and
when I get back I will tell my father, and he will let Thompson know the
sort of fellow Collet is. It doesn't do one any good making complaints
of a captain, but my father is such friends with Thompson that I know he
will tell the other partners that he hears that Collet isn't the sort of
man they care about having commanding their ships, without my name
coming into it. If he does I can't help it. I know Thompson will see
that I don't sail with Collet again, anyhow, and will get you with me,
as he has often met you at my father's, and knows what chums we are.
Collet brought Williams with him, and they were a nice pair. I believe
the second and third are just as disgusted as we are, and as Allen is a
nephew of one of the partners he will put a spoke in their wheel too,
when he comes back."
"Well, we might be worse off in some respects, Dick. We have two good
officers out of the four, and we have a very fair crew, and we have good
grub; and the company always victual their ships well, and don't put the
officers' messing into the hands of the captain, as they do in some
ships."
Presently Mr. Allen, the second officer, came up with the two lads.
"I am going ashore in an hour, Preston," he said to Dick; "if you like,
you can come with me."
"Thank you, sir; I should like it very much."
"I wish you were coming too, Tom," he went on when the officer moved
away. "That is one of the nuisances, Collet never letting us go ashore
together."
"It is a nuisance," the other said, heartily. "Of course, Allen is a
very good fellow, but one can't have any larks as one could have if we
were together."
"Well, there are not many larks to be had here, at any rate, Tom. It is
about the dullest place I ever landed at. It is a regular Mexican town,
and except that they do have, I suppose, sometimes, dances and that sort
of thing, there is really nothing to be done when one does go ashore,
and the whole place stinks of hides. Even if one could get away for a
day there is no temptation to ride about that desert-looking country,
with the sun burning down on one; no one but a salamander could stand
it. They are about the roughest-looking lot I ever saw in the town.
Everyone has got something to do with hides one way or the other. They
have either come in with them from the country, or they pack them in the
warehouses, or they ship them. That and mining seem the only two things
going on, and the miners, with their red shirts and pistols and knives,
look even a rougher lot than the others. I took my pistol when last I
went ashore; I will lend it you this evening."
"Oh, I don't want a pistol, Tom; there is no chance of my getting into a
row."
"Oh, it is just as well to carry one, Dick, when you know that everyone
else has got one about him somewhere, and a considerable number of them
are drunk; it is just as well to take one. You know, it is small, and
goes in my breast pocket."
"I will take my stick, the one I bought at San Francisco; it has got an
ounce of lead in the knob. I would rather have that than a pistol any
day."
However, as Dick was standing with the second officer at the top of the
gangway, Tom Haldane, as he passed by, slipped the pistol into his hand
and then walked on. Dick thrust it into his pocket, and then descended
the ladder. It was almost dark now.
"I have two or three places to go to, Preston, and do not know how long
I shall be detained. It is just nine o'clock now. Suppose you meet me
here at the boat at half-past ten. It will be pleasanter for you to
stroll about by yourself than to be waiting about outside houses for
me."
"Very well, sir. I don't think there is much to see in the town, but I
will take a bit of a stroll outside. It is cool and pleasant after the
heat of the day."
They walked together to the first house that Mr. Allen had to visit;
then Dick strolled on by himself. The place abounded with wine-shops.
Through the open doors the sound of the strumming of mandolins, snatches
of Spanish song, and occasionally voices raised in dispute or anger,
came out. Dick felt no inclination to enter any of them. Had his chum
been with him he might have looked in for a few minutes for the fun of
the thing, but alone he would be the object of remark, and might perhaps
get involved in a quarrel. Besides the freshness of the air was so
pleasant that he felt disposed for a walk, for the moon was shining
brightly, the stars seemed to hang from the skies, and after having been
pent up in the ship for the last four days it was pleasant to stretch
the limbs in a brisk walk. In ten minutes he was outside the town, and
followed the road for half an hour.
"It is a comfort," he said to himself, "to have got rid of the smell of
hides. If ever cholera comes this way I should think it would make a
clean sweep of San Diego."
Turning, he walked leisurely back; he entered the town, and had gone but
a hundred yards or two when he heard a shout, followed by a pistol shot,
and then, in English, a cry for help.
He dashed down the street toward a group of people who, he could see in
the moonlight, were engaged in a sharp struggle. One man was defending
himself against four, and the oaths and exclamations of these showed
that they were Mexicans. Just as he reached them the man they were
attacking was struck down, and two of his assailants threw themselves
upon him.
Dick rushed upon the men, and felled one with a sweeping blow of his
stick. The other man who was standing up sprang at him, knife in hand,
with a savage oath.
So quick was the action that he was upon Dick before he had time to
strike a blow with his stick. He threw up his left arm to guard his
head, but received a severe gash on the shoulders. At the same moment he
struck out with his right, full into the face of the Mexican, who, as he
staggered back, fell across the three men on the ground. Dick seized the
opportunity to draw his pistol, dropping his stick as he | 214.003424 | 991 |
2023-11-16 18:19:20.7198250 | 374 | 70 |
Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny
TWO POETS
(Lost Illusions Part I)
By Honore De Balzac
Translated By Ellen Marriage
PREPARER'S NOTE
Two Poets is part one of a trilogy and begins the story of
Lucien, his sister Eve, and his friend David in the provincial
town of Angouleme. Part two, A Distinguished Provincial at
Paris is centered on Lucien's Parisian life. Part three, Eve
and David, reverts to the setting of Angouleme. In many
references parts one and three are combined under the title
Lost Illusions and A Distinguished Provincial at Paris is given
its individual title. Following this trilogy Lucien's story
is continued in another book, Scenes from a Courtesan's Life.
DEDICATION
To Monsieur Victor Hugo,
It was your birthright to be, like a Rafael or a Pitt, a great
poet at an age when other men are children; it was your fate, the
fate of Chateaubriand and of every man of genius, to struggle
against jealousy skulking behind the columns of a newspaper, or
crouching in the subterranean places of journalism. For this
reason I desired that your victorious name should help to win a
victory for this work that I inscribe to you, a work which, if
some persons are to be believed, is an act of courage as well as a
veracious history. If there had been journalists in the time of
Moliere, who can doubt but that they, like marquises, financiers,
doctors, and lawyers, would have been within | 214.039235 | 992 |
2023-11-16 18:19:20.9193420 | 395 | 132 |
Produced by Judith Boss. HTML version by Al Haines.
The Beasts of Tarzan
By
Edgar Rice Burroughs
To Joan Burroughs
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1 Kidnapped
2 Marooned
3 Beasts at Bay
4 Sheeta
5 Mugambi
6 A Hideous Crew
7 Betrayed
8 The Dance of Death
9 Chivalry or Villainy
10 The Swede
11 Tambudza
12 A Black Scoundrel
13 Escape
14 Alone in the Jungle
15 Down the Ugambi
16 In the Darkness of the Night
17 On the Deck of the "Kincaid"
18 Paulvitch Plots Revenge
19 The Last of the "Kincaid"
20 Jungle Island Again
21 The Law of the Jungle
Chapter 1
Kidnapped
"The entire affair is shrouded in mystery," said D'Arnot. "I have it
on the best of authority that neither the police nor the special agents
of the general staff have the faintest conception of how it was
accomplished. All they know, all that anyone knows, is that Nikolas
Rokoff has escaped."
John Clayton, Lord Greystoke--he who had been "Tarzan of the Apes"--sat
in silence in the apartments of his friend, Lieutenant Paul D'Arnot, in
Paris, gazing meditatively at the toe of his immaculate boot.
His mind revolved many memories, recalled by the escape of his
arch-enemy from the French military prison to which he had been
sentenced | 214.238752 | 993 |
2023-11-16 18:19:21.0153150 | 1,318 | 151 |
Produced by John Bickers; Dagny; Emma Dudding
THE MAHATMA AND THE HARE
A DREAM STORY
by H. Rider Haggard
"Ultimately a good hare was found which took the field at...
There the hounds pressed her, and on the hunt arriving at the edge
of the cliff the hare could be seen crossing the beach and going
right out to sea. A boat was procured, and the master and some
others rowed out to her just as she drowned, and, bringing the
body in, gave it to the hounds. A hare swimming out to sea is a
sight not often witnessed."--_Local paper, January_ 1911.
"... A long check occurred in the latter part of this hunt, the
hare having laid up in a hedgerow, from which she was at last
evicted by a crack of the whip. Her next place of refuge was a
horse-pond, which she tried to swim, but got stuck in the ice
midway, and was sinking, when the huntsman went in after her. It
was a novel sight to see huntsman and hare being lifted over a
wall out of the pond, the eager pack waiting for their prey behind
the wall."--_Local paper, February_ 1911.
*****
The author supposes that the first of the above extracts must have
impressed him. At any rate, on the night after the reading of it, just
as he went to sleep, or on the following morning just as he awoke, he
cannot tell which, there came to him the title and the outlines of this
fantasy, including the command with which it ends. With a particular
clearness did he seem to see the picture of the Great White Road,
"straight as the way of the Spirit, and broad as the breast of Death,"
and of the little Hare travelling towards the awful Gates.
Like the Mahatma of this fable, he expresses no opinion as to the merits
of the controversy between the Red-faced Man and the Hare that, without
search on his own part, presented itself to his mind in so odd a
fashion. It is one on which anybody interested in such matters can form
an individual judgment.
THE MAHATMA[*]
[*] Mahatma, "great-souled." "One of a class of persons with
preter-natural powers, imagined to exist in India and
Thibet."--_New English Dictionary_.
Everyone has seen a hare, either crouched or running in the fields,
or hanging dead in a poulterer's shop, or lastly pathetic, even
dreadful-looking and in this form almost indistinguishable from a
skinned cat, on the domestic table. But not many people have met a
Mahatma, at least to their knowledge. Not many people know even who or
what a Mahatma is. The majority of those who chance to have heard the
title are apt to confuse it with another, that of Mad Hatter.
This is even done of malice prepense (especially, for obvious reasons,
if a hare is in any way concerned) in scorn, not in ignorance, by
persons who are well acquainted with the real meaning of the word and
even with its Sanscrit origin. The truth is that an incredulous Western
world puts no faith in Mahatmas. To it a Mahatma is a kind of spiritual
Mrs. Harris, giving an address in Thibet at which no letters are
delivered. Either, it says, there is no such person, or he is a
fraudulent scamp with no greater occult powers--well, than a hare.
I confess that this view of Mahatmas is one that does not surprise me
in the least. I never met, and I scarcely expect to meet, an individual
entitled to set "Mahatma" after his name. Certainly _I_ have no right to
do so, who only took that title on the spur of the moment when the Hare
asked me how I was called, and now make use of it as a _nom-de-plume_.
It is true there is Jorsen, by whose order, for it amounts to that, I
publish this history. For aught I know Jorsen may be a Mahatma, but he
does not in the least look the part.
Imagine a bluff person with a strong, hard face, piercing grey eyes, and
very prominent, bushy eyebrows, of about fifty or sixty years of age.
Add a Scotch accent and a meerschaum pipe, which he smokes even when he
is wearing a frock coat and a tall hat, and you have Jorsen. I believe
that he lives somewhere in the country, is well off, and practises
gardening. If so he has never asked me to his place, and I only meet him
when he comes to Town, as I understand, to visit flower-shows.
Then I always meet him because he orders me to do so, not by letter or
by word of mouth but in quite a different way. Suddenly I receive an
impression in my mind that I am to go to a certain place at a certain
hour, and that there I shall find Jorsen. I do go, sometimes to an
hotel, sometimes to a lodging, sometimes to a railway station or to the
corner of a particular street and there I do find Jorsen smoking his big
meerschaum pipe. We shake hands and he explains why he has sent for me,
after which we talk of various things. Never mind what they are, for
that would be telling Jorsen's secrets as well as my own, which I must
not do.
It may be asked how I came to know Jorsen. Well, in a strange way.
Nearly thirty years ago a dreadful thing happened to me. I was married
and, although still young, a person of some mark in literature. Indeed
even now one or two of the books which I wrote are read and remembered,
although it is supposed | 214.334725 | 994 |
2023-11-16 18:19:21.4131240 | 373 | 126 |
Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
A LEGEND OF MONTROSE
by
Sir Walter Scott
CONTENTS.
I. Introduction to A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.
II. Introduction (Supplement). Sergeant More M'Alpin.
III. Main text of A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.
IV. Appendix No. I Clan Alpin's Vow.
No. II The Children of the Mist.
V. Notes Note I Fides et Fiducia sunt relativa.
Note II Wraiths.
Note: Footnotes in the printed book have been inserted in the
etext in square brackets ("[]") close to the place where
they were referenced by a suffix in the original text.
I. INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.
The Legend of Montrose was written chiefly with a view to place before
the reader the melancholy fate of John Lord Kilpont, eldest son of
William Earl of Airth and Menteith, and the singular circumstances
attending the birth and history of James Stewart of Ardvoirlich, by
whose hand the unfortunate nobleman fell.
Our subject leads us to talk of deadly feuds, and we must begin with
one still more ancient than that to which our story relates. During
the reign of James IV., a great feud between the powerful families
of Drummond and Murray divided Perthshire. The former, being the most
numerous and powerful, cooped up eight score of the Murrays in the kirk
of Monivaird, and set fire to it. The wives and the children of the
ill-fated men, who had also found shelter | 214.732534 | 995 |
2023-11-16 18:19:21.4507790 | 167 | 217 | The Project Gutenberg Etext of Serge Panine, by Georges Ohnet, v1
#1 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy
#1 in our series by Georges Ohnet
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!!!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers.
Please do not remove this.
This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book.
Do not change or edit it without written permission. The words
are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they
need about what they can legally do with the texts.
**Welcome To The | 214.770189 | 996 |
2023-11-16 18:19:22.1002840 | 404 | 96 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Three Commanders, by W.H.G. Kingston.
________________________________________________________________________
This is the third in the tetralogy commencing "The Three Midshipmen" and
ending with "The Three Admirals," so the three principal characters will
have been familiar to Kingston's youthful readers. As with the other
books it is a very good introduction to Naval life in the middle of the
nineteenth century, but there are other things we can learn from this
book, as well.
The action soon after the start moves to East Africa, where we see how
the anti-slave trade was pursued. The British were against slavery, but
the Portuguese, the Americans, the Arabs, and some of the East African
states were getting on with it whenever the British backs were turned.
Then we move to the Crimea, where we get a very good view of the naval
participation in that war. If you want to know more about the Crimea,
you should definitely read this book.
Finally we move to the Pacific, to Sydney and to Hawaii. Here again it
is interesting, particularly with regard to the volcanoes of the Hawaii
group of islands.
________________________________________________________________________
THE THREE COMMANDERS, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.
CHAPTER ONE.
MURRAY'S HIGHLAND HOME--A VISIT FROM ADMIRAL TRITON--ADAIR AND HIS
NEPHEW APPEAR--MURRAY APPOINTED TO THE OPAL, ADAIR FIRST LIEUTENANT--
PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE--ADMIRAL TRITON AND MRS DEBORAH INVITE MRS
MURRAY TO STAY AT SOUTHSEA--THE OPAL AND HER CREW--A POETICAL
LIEUTENANT--PARTING BETWEEN MISS ROGERS AND ADAIR--THE OPAL SAILS FOR
THE EAST COAST OF A | 215.419694 | 997 |
2023-11-16 18:19:22.5271860 | 399 | 91 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration]
THE
SHIPWRECKED ORPHANS:
A TRUE NARRATIVE OF THE
SHIPWRECK AND SUFFERINGS
OF
JOHN IRELAND AND WILLIAM DOYLEY,
WHO WERE WRECKED IN THE
SHIP CHARLES EATON,
ON AN ISLAND IN THE SOUTH SEAS.
WRITTEN BY JOHN IRELAND.
NEW HAVEN.
PUBLISHED BY S. BABCOCK.
_TO MY YOUNG READERS._
[Illustration]
_My dear little Friends_:
For this volume of TELLER’S TALES, I have selected the “SHIPWRECKED
ORPHANS, a True Narrative of the Sufferings of John Ireland” and a
little child, named William Doyley, who were unfortunately wrecked in
the ship Charles Eaton, of London, and lived for several years with the
natives of the South Sea Islands. The remainder of the passengers and
crew of this ill-fated ship, were most inhumanly murdered by the savages
soon after they landed from the wreck. The Narrative was written by one
of the Orphans, John Ireland, and I give it to you in nearly his own
words, having made but few alterations in the style in which he tells
the story of their sufferings.
The people of some of the South Sea Islands, are of a very cruel
disposition; some of them are cannibals; that is, they eat the flesh of
those unfortunate persons who may happen to be shipwrecked on their
Islands, or whom they may | 215.846596 | 998 |
2023-11-16 18:19:22.7079830 | 309 | 18 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic
text by _underscores_.]
THOUGHTS
FOR
THE QUIET HOUR
Edited By D. L. Moody
[Illustration]
Fleming H. Revell Company
CHICAGO : NEW YORK : TORONTO
_Publishers of Evangelical Literature_
Copyrighted 1900
by
Fleming H. Revell Company
TO THE READER
One of the brightest signs of the times is that many Christians in our
Young People's Societies and churches are observing a "Quiet Hour"
daily. In this age of rush and activity we need some special call to go
apart and be alone with God for a part of each day. Any man or woman who
does this faithfully and earnestly cannot be more than twenty-four hours
away from God.
The selections given in this volume were first published in the monthly
issues of the "_Record of Christian Work_," and were found very helpful
for devotional purposes. They are also a mine of thoughts, to light up
the verses quoted. Being of permanent value, it has been thought
desirable to transfer them from the pages of the magazine to this
permanent volume.
May they have a helpful ministry, leading many into closer communion
with God!
| 216.027393 | 999 |
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