OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Blundell, William

​BLUNDELL, WILLIAM (1620–1698), royalist officer and topographer, son of Nicholas Blundell, by Jane, daughter of Roger Bradshaigh, of Haigh, near Wigan, was born at Crosby Hall, Lancashire, and probably was sent to one of the secret places of education that were maintained by catholics in various parts of the country. At the age of fifteen he married Ann, daughter of Sir Thomas Haggerston, bart., of Haggerston, co. Northumberland. In 1642 he accepted a captain's commission from Sir Thomas Tildesley, authorising him to raise a company of one hundred dragoons for the royal cause. He joined in the march to Lancaster, where he received a serious wound, having his thigh shattered by a musket-shot. From this period till the close of the civil war his life was one of privation and anxiety. By the law of 1646 no papist delinquent could compound for his estate, and consequently all his real property was seized, and remained in the hands of the commissioners for nine or ten years. Ultimately he repurchased it at a cost of 1,340l. In addition to this he found himself saddled with the arrears of the rents reserved to the crown, arising out of frequent grants for recusancy, some of which had never been discharged. These went back as far as the reign of Elizabeth, and he was forced by the government to pay on this score 1,167l. 15s. 6½d. Moreover, the cost of making out this prodigious bill was added to the account, constituting an addition of 34l. 10s. 2d. to the foregoing sum. This remarkable document, a roll of twenty feet in length, is still preserved. After the civil war Blundell retired to Crosby Hall, where he died 24 May 1698.
His works are: 1. ‘A Short Treatise on the Penal Laws;’ this exists in manuscript at Crosby, but a printed copy cannot be found, although the author states that a few copies were printed in London. 2. ‘An Exact Chronographical and Historical Discovery of the hitherto unknown Isle of Man, containing a true and perfect description of this island at large; the history of their antient kings, late lords, and bishops of y$^e$ island, the ceremonies of their inaugurations, and installments,’ &c., 2 vols., Douglas, 1876–77, 8vo, edited by William Harrison, and forming vols. xxv. and xxvii. of the publications of the Manx Society. 3. ‘Manuscript Commonplace Books,’ kept on the method described by Drexilius in his ‘Aurifodina;’ a selection of the most interesting of the original notes, anecdotes, and observations, in these volumes has been published, with introductory chapters, by the Rev. Thomas Ellison Gibson, under the title of ‘Crosby Records, a Cavalier's Note Book,’ London, 1880, 4to.
[Memoir by Gibson prefixed to the Cavalier's Note Book; Publications of the Manx Society.]
T. C.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Blundell, James

​BLUNDELL, JAMES (1790–1877), physician, was born in London on 27 Dec. 1790. He was educated by the Rev. T. Thomason, and studied at the United Borough Hospitals under his uncle Dr. Haighton, a well-known physiologist. He graduated as M.D. at Edinburgh on 24 June 1813. In 1814 he began to lecture at London, in conjunction with his uncle, on midwifery, and soon afterwards began a course on physiology. He succeeded Haighton as lecturer at Guy's Hospital, and for many years had the largest class on midwifery in London. He ceased to lecture in 1836. He made a large fortune, leaving 350,000l. He was admitted a licentiate of the College of Physicians in 1818 and fellow on 6 Aug. 1838. He was author of 'Researches, Physiological and Pathological, instituted principally with a View to the Improvement of Medical and Surgical Practice' (1825). Dr. Munk says that this work shows great original research and prepared the way for many improvements in abdominal surgery. He also published 'Principles and Practice of Obstetricy, with Notes' (1834), and 'Observations on some of the more important Diseases of Women' (1837). Both of these were edited by Dr. Castle.
[Monk's Roll, i. vii, iii. 180.]
# Daddy-Long-Legs (Webster)/Letter 50

March 5th.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
President Cuyler made a speech this evening about the modern generation being flippant and superficial. He says that we are losing the old ideals of earnest endeavor and true scholarship; and particularly is this falling-off noticeable in our disrespectful attitude toward organized authority. We no longer pay a seemly deference to our superiors.
I came away from chapel very sober.
Am I too familiar, Daddy? Ought I to treat you with more dignity and aloofness?–Yes, I'm sure I ought. I'll begin again. •••••• My dear Mr. Smith,
You will be pleased to hear that I passed successfully my mid-year examinations, ​and am now commencing work in the new semester. I am leaving chemistry—having completed the course in qualitative analysis—and am entering upon the study of biology. I approach this subject with some hesitation, as I understand that we dissect angleworms and frogs.
An extremely interesting and valuable lecture was given in the chapel last week upon Roman Remains in Southern France. I have never listened to a more illuminating exposition of the subject.
We are reading Wordsworth's "Tinturn Abbey" in connection with our course in English Literature. What an exquisite work it is, and how adequately it embodies his conception of Pantheism! The Romantic movement of the early part of the last century, exemplified in the works of such poets as Shelley, Byron, Keats, and Wordsworth, appeals to me very much more than the Classical period that preceded ​it. Speaking of poetry, have you ever read that charming little thing of Tennyson's called "Locksley Hall"?
I am attending gymnasium very regularly of late. A proctor system has been devised, and failure to comply with the rules causes a great deal of inconvenience. The gymnasium is equipped with a very beautiful swimming tank of cement and marble, the gift of a former graduate. My room-mate, Miss McBride, has given me her bathing-suit (it shrank so that she can no longer wear it) and I am about to begin swimming lessons.
We had delicious pink ice-cream for dessert last night. Only vegetable dyes are used in coloring the food. The college is very much opposed, both from esthetic and hygienic motives, to the use of aniline dyes.
The weather of late has been ideal—bright sunshine and clouds interspersed ​with a few welcome snow-storms. I and my companions have enjoyed our walks to and from classes—particularly from.
Trusting, my dear Mr. Smith, that this will find you in your usual good health,
I remain,
Most cordially yours,
Jerusha Abbott.
# Daddy-Long-Legs (Webster)/Letter 46

December 20th.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I've just a moment, because I must attend two classes, pack a trunk and a suit-case, and catch the four-o'clock train—but I couldn't go without sending a word to let you know how much I appreciate my Christmas box.
I love the furs and the necklace and the Liberty scarf and the gloves and handkerchiefs and books and purse—and most of all I love you! But Daddy, you have no business to spoil me this way. I'm only human—and a girl at that. How can I keep my mind sternly fixed on a studious career, when you deflect me with such worldly frivolities?
I have strong suspicions now as to which one of the John Grier Trustees used to give ​the Christmas tree and the Sunday ice-cream. He was nameless, but by his works I know him! You deserve to be happy for all the good things you do.
Good-by, and a very merry Christmas.
Yours always,
Judy.
P.S. I am sending a slight token, too. Do you think you would like her if you knew her?
# Daddy-Long-Legs (Webster)/Letter 44

November 9th.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I started down town to-day to buy a bottle of shoe blacking and some collars and the material for a new blouse and a jar of violet cream and a cake of Castile soap—all very necessary; I couldn't be happy another day without them—and when I tried to pay the car fare, I found that I had left my purse in the pocket of my other coat. So I had to get out and take the next car, and was late for gymnasium.
It's a dreadful thing to have no memory and two coats!
Julia Pendleton has invited me to visit her for the Christmas holidays. How does that strike you, Mr. Smith? Fancy Jerusha Abbott, of the John Grier Home, sitting at ​the tables of the rich. I don't know why Julia wants me—she seems to be getting quite attached to me of late. I should, to tell the truth, very much prefer going to Sallie's, but Julia asked me first, so if I go anywhere it must be to New York instead of to Worcester. I'm rather awed at the prospect of meeting Pendletons en masse, and also I'd have to get a lot of new clothes—so, Daddy dear, if you write that you would prefer having me remain quietly at college, I will bow to your wishes with my usual sweet docility.
I'm engaged at odd moments with the "Life and Letters of Thomas Huxley"—it makes nice, light reading to pick up between times. Do you know what an archæopteryx is? It's a bird. And a stereognathus? I'm not sure myself, but I think it's a missing link, like a bird with teeth or a lizard with wings. No, it isn't either; I've just looked in the book. It's a mesozoic mammal.
I've elected economics this year—very illuminating subject. When I finish that I'm going to take Charity and Reform; then, Mr. Trustee, I'll know just how an orphan asylum ought to be run. Don't you think I'd make an admirable voter if I had my rights? I was twenty-one last week. This is an awfully wasteful country to throw away such an honest, educated, conscientious, intelligent citizen as I would be.
Yours always,
Judy.
# Daddy-Long-Legs (Webster)/Letter 49

February 11th.
Dear D. L. L.,
Don't be insulted because this is so short. It isn't a letter; it's just a line to say that I'm going to write a letter pretty soon when examinations are over. It is not only necessary that I pass, but pass WELL. I have a scholarship to live up to.
Yours, studying hard,
J. A.
# Daddy-Long-Legs (Webster)/Letter 5

November 15th.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Listen to what I've learned to-day:
The area of the convex surface of the frustum of a regular pyramid is half the product of the sum of the perimeters of its bases by the altitude of either of its trapezoids.
It doesn't sound true, but it is—I can prove it!
You've never heard about my clothes, have you, Daddy? Six dresses, all new and beautiful and bought for me—not handed down from somebody bigger. Perhaps you don't realize what a climax that marks in the career of an orphan? You gave them to me, and I am very, very, very much obliged. It's a fine thing to be ​educated—but nothing compared to the dizzying experience of owning six new dresses. Miss Pritchard who is on the visiting committee picked them out—not Mrs. Lippett, thank goodness. I have an evening dress, pink mull over silk (I'm perfectly beautiful in that), and a blue church dress, and a dinner dress of red veiling with Oriental trimming (makes me look like a Gipsy) and another of rose-colored challis, and a gray street suit, and an every-day dress for classes. That wouldn't be an awfully big wardrobe for Julia Rutledge Pendleton, perhaps, but for Jerusha Abbott—Oh, my!
I suppose you're thinking now what a frivolous, shallow, little beast she is, and what a waste of money to educate a girl?
But Daddy, if you'd been dressed in checked ginghams all your life, you'd appreciate how I feel. And when I started to the high school, I entered upon another ​period even worse than the checked ginghams.
The poor box.
You can't know how I dreaded appearing in school in those miserable poor-box dresses. I was perfectly sure to be put down in class next to the girl who first owned my dress, and she would whisper and giggle and point it out to the others. The bitterness of wearing your enemies' cast-off clothes eats into your soul. If I wore silk stockings for the rest of my life, I don't believe I could obliterate the scar.
LATEST WAR BULLETIN! News from the Scene of Action.
At the fourth watch on Thursday the 13th of November, Hannibal routed the advance guard of the Romans and led the Carthaginian forces over the mountains into the plains of Casilinum. A cohort of light armed Numidians engaged the infantry of Quintus Fabius Maximus. Two battles ​and light skirmishing. Romans repulsed with heavy losses.
I have the honor of being,
Your special correspondent from the front
J. Abbott.
P. S.I know I'm not to expect any letters in return, and I've been warned not to bother you with questions, but tell me, Daddy, just this once—are you awfully old or just a little old? And are you perfectly bald or just a little bald? It is very difficult thinking about you in the abstract like a theorem in geometry.
Given a tall rich man who hates girls, but is very generous to one quite impertinent girl, what does he look like?
R.S.V.P.
# Daddy-Long-Legs (Webster)/Letter 42

September 26th.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Back at college again and an upper classman. Our study is better than ever this year—faces the South with two huge windows—and oh! so furnished. Julia, with an unlimited allowance, arrived two days early and was attacked with a fever of settling.
We have new wall paper and Oriental rugs and mahogany chairs—not painted mahogany which made us sufficiently happy last year, but real. It's very gorgeous, but I don't feel as though I belonged in it; I'm nervous all the time for fear I'll get an ink spot in the wrong place.
And, Daddy, I found your letter waiting for me—pardon—I mean your secretary's.
​Will you kindly convey to me a comprehensible reason why I should not accept that scholarship? I don't understand your objection in the least. But anyway, it won't do the slightest good for you to object, for I've already accepted it—and I am not going to change! That sounds a little impertinent, but I don't mean it so.
I suppose you feel that when you set out to educate me, you'd like to finish the work, and put a neat period, in the shape of a diploma, at the end.
But look at it just a second from my point of view. I shall owe my education to you just as much as though I let you pay for the whole of it, but I won't be quite so much indebted. I know that you don't want me to return the money, but nevertheless, I am going to want to do it, if I possibly can; and winning this scholarship makes it so much easier. I was expecting to spend the rest of my life in paying my debts, but ​now I shall only have to spend one-half of the rest of it.
I hope you understand my position and won't be cross. The allowance I shall still most gratefully accept. It requires an allowance to live up to Julia and her furniture! I wish that she had been reared to simpler tastes, or else that she were not my room-mate.
This isn't much of a letter; I meant to have written a lot—but I've been hemming four window curtains and three portières (I'm glad you can't see the length of the stitches), and polishing a brass desk set with tooth powder (very uphill work), and sawing off picture wire with manicure scissors, and unpacking four boxes of books, and putting away two trunkfuls of clothes (it doesn't seem believable that Jerusha Abbott owns two trunks full of clothes, but she does!) and welcoming back fifty dear friends in between.
Opening day is a joyous occasion!
​Good night, Daddy dear, and don't be annoyed because your chick is wanting to scratch for herself. She's growing up into an awfully energetic little hen—with a very determined cluck and lots of beautiful feathers (all due to you).
Affectionately,
Judy.
# Daddy-Long-Legs (Webster)/Letter 48

​Dear Comrade,
Hooray! I'm a Fabian.
That's a Socialist who's willing to wait. We don't want the social revolution to come to-morrow morning; it would be too upsetting. We want it to come very gradually in the distant future, when we shall all be prepared and able to sustain the shock.
In the meantime, we must be getting ready, by instituting industrial, educational and orphan asylum reforms.
Yours, with fraternal love,
Judy.
Monday, 3d hour.
# Daddy-Long-Legs (Webster)/Letter 43

September 30th.
Dear Daddy,
Are you still harping on that scholarship? I never knew a man so obstinate, and stubborn and unreasonable, and tenacious, and bull-doggish, and unable-to-see-other-people's-point-of-view, as you.
You prefer that I should not be accepting favours from strangers.
Strangers!—And what are you, pray?
Is there anyone in the world that I know less? I shouldn't recognize you if I met you in the street. Now, you see, if you had been a sane, sensible person and had written nice, cheering fatherly letters to your little Judy, and had come occasionally and patted her on the head, and had said you were glad she was such a good girl—Then, perhaps, she wouldn't have flouted ​you in your old age, but would have obeyed your slightest wish like the dutiful daughter she was meant to be.
Strangers indeed! You live in a glass house, Mr. Smith.
And besides, this isn't a favour; it's like a prize—I earned it by hard work. If nobody had been good enough in English, the committee wouldn't have awarded the scholarship; some years they don't. Also—But what's the use of arguing with a man? You belong, Mr. Smith, to a sex devoid of a sense of logic. To bring a man into line, there are just two methods: one must either coax or be disagreeable. I scorn to coax men for what I wish. Therefore, I must be disagreeable.
I refuse, sir, to give up the scholarship; and if you make any more fuss, I won't accept the monthly allowance either, but will wear myself into a nervous wreck tutoring stupid Freshmen.
That is my ultimatum!
​And listen—I have a further thought. Since you are so afraid that by taking this scholarship I am depriving someone else of an education, I know a way out. You can apply the money that you would have spent for me towards educating some other little girl from the John Grier Home. Don't you think that's a nice idea? Only, Daddy, educate the new girl as much as you choose, but please don't like her any better than me.
I trust that your secretary won't be hurt because I pay so little attention to the suggestions offered in his letter, but I can't help it if he is. He's a spoiled child, Daddy. I've meekly given in to his whims heretofore, but this time I intend to be FIRM.
Yours,
With a mind,
Completely and Irrevocably and
World-without-End Made-up,
Jerusha Abbott.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Cameron, Charles Duncan

1904 Errata appended.
​CAMERON, CHARLES DUNCAN (d. 1870), British consul in Abyssinia, was son of an old Penninsular officer, Colonel Charles Cameron, 3rd Buffs. He entered the army, by purchase, as an ensign in the 45th foot on 19 May 1846, and served therein until July 1851. He was attached to the native levies during the Kaffir war of 1846-7. Having settled in Natal on his retirement from the 45th, he was employed by Mr. (afterwards Sir B.C.) Pine, then lieutenant-governor of that colony, on diplomatic service in the Zulu country, and acted as Kaffir magistrate in the Klip river district of Natal. He commanded the Kaffir irregulars sent from Natal to the Cape Colony overland during the war of 1851-2. At the outbreak of the war with Russia he was appointed to the staff of Sir Fenwick Williams, her majesty's commissioner with the Turkish army, receiving the local rank of captain in Turkey while so employed. He was placed in command of the fortifications in course of erection at Erzeroum, and after the fall of Kars was detached on special service to Trebizond until September 1856. For his military services he received the Kaffir and Turkish war medals, and the Turkish medal for Kars. He passed an examination before the civil service commissioners, and obtained an honorary certificate on 16 June 1858. He was appointed vice-consul at Redout Kale in April 1858, and was removed to Poti in 1859. He was appointed British counsul in Abyssinia to reside at Massowah in 1860, and left for his new station in November 1861, arriving there on 9 Jan. 1862. He accompanied the Grand Duke of Saxe-Cobourg during a visit to the interior in that year. Cameron afterwards left Massowah for Gondar, to deliver to King Theodore of Abyssinia a royal letter and presents from Queen Victoria, and arrived at Gondar on 23 June 1862. He was imprisoned by King Theodore, on charges of interfering with the internal politics of the kingdom, from 2 June 1864 until 17 Aug. 1866, when he was handed over to Mr. Rassam, assistant political agent at Aden, who had been sent on a special mission to Abyssinia to obtain his release. He was reimprisoned by King Theodore, together with Mr. Rassam and others, at Amba Magdala from 12 July 1866, until released, with the other prisoners, on the appearance of the British army before Magdala, 11 April 1868. Cameron returned to England in July 1868, and retired on a pension in December of the same year. He died at Geneva on 30 May 1870. His account of his captivity and the correspondence relating thereto, and to the Abyssinian expedition, will be found among 'Parl. Printed Papers,' 1868-9. He was elected fellow of the Royal Geographical Society in 1858.
[Army lists; Foreign Office Lists; Parl. Papers, Accounts and Papers, 1868-9; Hozier's Narrative of the Expedition to Abyssinia (London, 1869); Journal R. Geog. Soc., London, xli, p. cliii.]
H. M. C.
Dictionary of National Biography, Errata (1904), p.49 N.B.— f.e. stands for from end and l.l. for last line
| Page | Col. | Line | |
| 288 | ii | 26 | Cameron, Charles D. : for Cobourg read Coburg |
| | | 34 | for 1866 read 1865 |