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Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
[Every attempt has been made to replicate the original as printed. No
attempt has been made to correct or normalize the spelling of
non-English words. Some typographical errors have been corrected; a list
follows the text. [)u] indicates that the letter u appears in the text
with a concave line over it. (note of etext transcriber.)]
[Illustration: TABOR.]
TENT WORK IN PALESTINE.
A Record of Discovery and Adventure.
BY
CLAUDE REIGNIER CONDER, R.E.,
OFFICER IN COMMAND OF THE SURVEY EXPEDITION.
Published for the Committee of the Palestine Exploration Fund.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. W. WHYMPER.
New Edition.
[Illustration]
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.
1887.
[_All Rights Reserved._]
TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS
THE PRINCE OF WALES
This Work is Dedicated,
WITH HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS' GRACIOUS PERMISSION,
BY THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
The Survey of Western Palestine was commenced under Captain Stewart,
R.E., in January, 1872. Ill-health obliged that officer to return almost
immediately. Lieutenant Conder, R.E., was appointed to the command, and
arrived in Palestine in the summer of the same year. The work meantime
had been conducted under the charge of the late Mr. C. F. Tyrwhitt
Drake.
Lieutenant Conder returned to England in October, 1875, having surveyed
4700 square miles.
The remaining 1300 square miles of the Survey were finished by
Lieutenant Kitchener in 1877.
The present volume contains Lieutenant Conder's personal history of his
work, without specially entering on the scientific results. These will
be published with the great map in the form of memoirs, twenty-six in
number, one to every sheet.
Lieutenant Conder's conclusions and proposed identifications are, it
will be understood, his own. The Committee do not, collectively, adopt
the conclusions of any of their officers.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
PREFACE v
INTRODUCTION xi
I. THE ROAD TO JERUSALEM 1
II. SHECHEM AND THE SAMARITANS 15
III. THE SURVEY OF SAMARIA 41
IV. THE GREAT PLAIN OF ESDRAELON 58
V. THE NAZARETH HILLS 71
VI. CARMEL AND ACRE 88
VII. SHARON 103
VIII. DAMASCUS, BAALBEK AND HERMON 121
IX. SAMSON'S COUNTRY 139
X. BETHLEHEM AND MAR SABA 145
XI. JERUSALEM 160
XII. THE TEMPLE AND CALVARY 182
XIII. JERICHO 199
XIV. THE JORDAN VALLEY 214
XV. HEBRON AND BEERSHEBA 236
XVI. THE LAND OF BENJAMIN | 2,078.967842 |
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THE
BOOK OF ANECDOTES,
AND
BUDGET OF FUN;
CONTAINING
A COLLECTION OF OVER
ONE THOUSAND
OF THE MOST LAUGHABLE SAYINGS AND JOKES OF CELEBRATED WITS AND
HUMORISTS.
PHILADELPHIA:
GEO. G. EVANS, PUBLISHER,
NO. 439 CHESTNUT STREET.
1860.
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by
G. G. EVANS
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of
Pennsylvania.
PREFACE.
NOTHING is so well calculated to preserve the healthful action of the
human system as a good, hearty laugh. It is with this indisputable and
important sanitary fact in view, that this collection of anecdotes has
been made. The principle in selecting each of them, has been, not to
inquire if it were odd, rare, curious, or remarkable; but if it were
really funny. Will the anecdote raise a laugh? That was the test
question. If the answer was "Yes," then it was accepted. If "No," then
it was rejected.
Anything offensive to good taste, good manners, or good morals, was, of
course, out of the question.
BOOK OF ANECDOTES,
AND
BUDGET OF FUN
LORD MANSFIELD AND HIS COACHMAN.
THE following is an anecdote of the late Lord Mansfield, which his
lordship himself told from the bench:--He had turned off his coachman
for certain acts of peculation, not uncommon in this class of persons.
The fellow begged his lordship to give him a character. "What kind of
character can I give you?" says his lordship. "Oh, my lord, any
character your lordship pleases to give me, I shall most thankfully
receive." His lordship accordingly sat down and wrote as follows:--"The
bearer, John ----, has served me three years in the capacity of
coachman. He is an able driver, and a very sober man, I discharged him
because he cheated me."--(Signed) "MANSFIELD." John thanked his
lordship, and went off. A few mornings afterwards, when his lordship was
going through his lobby to step into his coach for Westminster Hall, a
man, in a very handsome livery, made him a low bow. To his surprise he
recognized his late coachman. "Why, John," says his lordship, "you seem
to have got an excellent place; how could you manage this with the
character I gave you?" "Oh! my lord," says John, "it was an exceeding
good character, and I am come to return you thanks for it; my new
master, on reading it, said, he observed your lordship recommended me as
an able driver and a sober man. 'These,' says he, 'are just the
qualities I want in a coachman; I observe his lordship adds he
discharged you because you cheated him. Hark you, sirrah,' says he, 'I'm
a Yorkshireman, and I'll defy you to cheat _me_.'"
A DISCLAIMER.
GENERAL ZAREMBA had a very long Polish name. The king having heard of
it, one day asked him good humouredly, "Pray, Zaremba, what is your
name?" The general repeated to him immediately the whole of his long
name. "Why," said the king, "the devil himself never had such a name."
"I should presume not, Sire," replied the general, "as he was _no
relation of mine_."
A CONSIDERATE DARKIE.
"CAESAR," said a planter to his <DW64>, "climb up that tree and thin the
branches." The <DW64> showed no disposition to comply, and being pressed
for a reason, answered: "Well, look heah, massa, if I go up dar and fall
down an' broke my neck, dat'll be a thousand dollars out of your pocket.
Now, why don't you hire an Irishman to go up, and den if _he_ falls and
kills himself, dar won't be no loss to nobody?"
OCULAR DEMONSTRATION.
MR. NEWMAN is a famous New England singing-master; _i. e._, a teacher of
vocal music in the rural districts. Stopping over night at the house of
a simple minded old lady, whose grandson and pet, Enoch, was a pupil of
Mr. Newman, he was asked by the lady how Enoch was getting on. He gave a
rather poor account of the boy, and asked his grandmother if she thought
Enoch had any ear for music.
"Wa'al," said the old woman, "I raaly don't know; won't you just take
the candle and see?"
A SUFFICIENT REASON.
THERE was once a clergyman in New Hampshire, noted for his long sermons
and indolent habits. "How is it," said a man to his neighbour, "Parson
----, the laziest man living, writes these interminable sermons?" "Why,"
said the other, "he probably gets to writing and he is too lazy to
stop."
INCONSIDERATE CLEANLINESS.
"BRING in the oysters I told you to open," said the head of a household
growing impatient. "There they are," replied the Irish cook proudly. "It
took me a long time to clean them; but I've done it, and thrown all the
nasty insides into the strate."
YANKEE THRIFT.
QUOTH Patrick of the Yankee: "Bedad, if he was cast away on a dissolute
island, he'd get up the next mornin' an' go around sellin' maps to the
inhabitants."
SAFE MAN.
A POOR son of the Emerald Isle applied for employment to an avaricious
hunks, who told him he employed no Irishmen; "for," said he, "the last
one died on my hands, and I was forced to bury him at my own expense."
"Ah! your honour," said Pat, brightening up, "and is that all? Then
you'll give me the place, for sure I can get a certificate that I niver
died in the employ of any master I iver sarved."
A PAIR OF HUSBANDS.
A COUNTRY editor perpetrates the following upon the marriage of a Mr.
Husband to the lady of his choice:
"This case is the strongest we have known in our life; The husband's a
husband, and so is the wife."
ART CRITICISM.
AT a recent exhibition of paintings, a lady and her son were regarding
with much interest, a picture which the catalogue designated as "Luther
at the Diet of Worms." Having descanted at some length upon its merits,
the boy remarked, "Mother, I see Luther and the table, but where are the
worms?"
CUTTING A SWELL.
"A STURDY-LOOKING man in Cleveland, a short time since, while busily
engaged in cow-hiding a dandy, who had insulted his daughter, being
asked what he was doing, replied: "_Cutting a swell_;" and continued his
amusement without further interruption.
TALLEYRAND.
TO a lady who had lost her husband, Talleyrand once addressed a letter
of condolence, in two words: "Oh, madame!" In less than a year, the lady
had married again, and then his letter of congratulation was, "Ah,
madame!"
THAT'S NOTHING.
A MAN, hearing of another who was 100 years old, said contemptuously:
"Pshaw! what a fuss about nothing! Why, if my grandfather was alive he
would be one hundred and fifty years old."
LARGE POCKET-BOOK.
THE most capacious pocket-book on record is the one mentioned by a
coroner's jury in Iowa, thus:--"We find the deceased came to his death
by a visitation of God, and not by the hands of violence. We find upon
the body a pocket-book containing $2, a check on Fletcher's Bank for
$250, and two horses, a wagon, and some butter, eggs, and feathers."
DEGRADATION.
WE once heard of a rich man, who was badly injured by being run over.
"It isn't the accident," said he, "that I mind; that isn't the thing,
but the idea of being run over by an infernal swill-cart makes me mad."
DEAF TO HIS OWN CALL.
A NEW ORLEANS paper states, there is in that city a hog, with his ears
so far back, that he can't hear himself squeal.
DR. PARR.
DR. PARR had a great deal of sensibility. When I read to him, in
Lincoln's Inn Fields, the account of O'Coigly's death, the tears rolled
down his cheeks.
One day Mackintosh having vexed him, by calling O'Coigly "a rascal,"
Parr immediately rejoined, "Yes, Jamie, he was a bad man, but he might
have been worse; he was an Irishman, but he might have been a Scotchman;
he was a priest, but he might have been a lawyer; he was a republican,
but he might have been an apostate."
GOOD.
DURING a recent trial at Auburn, the following occurred to vary the
monotony of the proceedings:
Among the witnesses was one, as verdant a specimen of humanity as one
would wish to meet with. After a severe cross-examination, the counsel
for the Government paused, and then putting on a look of severity, and
an ominous shake of the head, exclaimed:
"Mr. Witness, has not an effort been made to induce you to tell a
different story?"
"A different story from what I have told, sir?"
"That is what I mean."
"Yes sir; several persons have tried to get me to tell a different story
from what I have told, but they couldn't."
"Now, sir, upon your oath, I wish to know who those persons are."
"Waal, I guess you've tried 'bout as hard as any of them."
The witness was dismissed, while the judge, jury, and spectators,
indulged in a hearty laugh.
I'LL VOTE FOR THE OTHER MAN.
THE following story is told of a revolutionary soldier who was running
for Congress.
It appears that he was opposed by a much younger man who had "never been
to the wars," and it was his practice to tell the people of the
hardships he had endured. Says he:
"Fellow-citizens, I have fought and bled for my country--I helped whip
the British and Indians. I have slept on the field of battle, with no
other covering than the canopy of heaven. I have walked over frozen
ground, till every footstep was marked with blood."
Just about this time, one of the "sovereigns," who had become very much
affected by this tale of woe, walks up in front of the speaker, wiping
the tears from his eyes with the extremity of his coat-tail, and
interrupting him, says:
"Did you say that you had fought the British and the Injines?"
"Yes, sir, I did."
"Did you say you had followed the enemy of your country over frozen
ground, till every footstep was covered with blood?"
"Yes!" exultingly replied the speaker.
"Well, then," says the tearful "sovereign," as he gave a sigh of painful
emotion, "I'll be blamed if I don't think you've done enough for your
country, and I'll vote for the other man!"
THE HEIGHT OF IMPUDENCE.
TAKING shelter from a shower in an umbrella shop.
DECLINING AN OFFICE.
"BEN," said a politician to his companion, "did you know I had declined
the office of Alderman?"
"_You_ declined the office of Alderman? Was you elected?"
"O, no."
"What then? Nominated?"
"No, but I attended our party caucus last evening, and took an active
part; and when a nominating committee was appointed, and were making up
the list of candidates, I went up to them and begged they would not
nominate me for Alderman, as it would be impossible for me to attend to
the duties?"
"Show, Jake; what reply did they make?"
"Why, they said they hadn't thought of such a thing."
GOOD WITNESSES.
AN Attorney before a bench of magistrates, a short time ago, told the
bench, with great gravity, "That he had two witnesses in court, in
behalf of his client, and they would be sure to speak the truth; for he
had had no opportunity to communicate with them!"
TALLEYRAND'S WIT.
"AH! I feel the torments of hell," said a person, whose life had been
supposed to be somewhat of the loosest. "Already?" was the inquiry
suggested to M. Talleyrand. Certainly, it came natural to him. It is,
however, not original; the Cardinal de Retz's physician is said to have
made a similar exclamation on a like occasion.
A FIGHTING FOWL.
DURING Colonel Crockett's first winter in Washington, a caravan of wild
animals was brought to the city and exhibited. Large crowds attended the
exhibition; and, prompted by common curiosity, one evening Colonel
Crockett attended.
"I had just got in," said he; "the house was very much crowded, and the
first thing I noticed, was two wild cats in a cage. Some acquaintance
asked me if they were like wild cats in the backwoods; and I was looking
at them, when one turned over and died. The keeper ran up and threw some
water on it. Said I, 'Stranger, you are wasting time: my look kills them
things; and you had much better hire me to go out of here, or I will
kill every varmint you've got in the caravan.' While I and he were
talking, the lions began to roar. Said I, 'I won't trouble the American
lion, because he is some kin to me; but turn out the African lion--turn
him out--turn him out--I can whip him for a ten dollar bill, and the
zebra may kick occasionally, during the fight.' This created some fun;
and I then went to another part of the room, where a monkey was riding a
pony. I was looking on, and some member said to me, 'Crockett, don't
that monkey favor General Jackson?' 'No,' said I, 'but I'll tell you who
it does favor. It looks like one of your boarders, Mr. ----, of Ohio.'
There was a loud burst of laughter at my saying so, and, upon turning
round, I saw Mr. ----, of Ohio, within three feet of me. I was in a
right awkward fix; but bowed to the company, and told 'em, I had either
slandered the monkey, or Mr. ----, of Ohio, and if they would tell me
which, I would beg his pardon. The thing passed off, but the next
morning, as I was walking the pavement before my door, a member came to
me and said, 'Crockett, Mr. ----, of Ohio, is going to challenge you.'
Said I, 'Well, tell him I am a fighting fowl. I s'pose if I am
challenged, I have the right to choose my weapons?' 'Oh yes,' said he.
'Then tell him,' said I, 'that I will fight him with bows and arrows.'"
ELEPHANT.
WHEN the great Lord Clive was in India, his sisters sent him some
handsome presents from England; and he informed them by letter, that he
had returned them an "_elephant_;" (at least, so they read the word;) an
announcement which threw them into the utmost perplexity; for what could
they possibly do with the animal? The true word was "equivalent."
"THE LAST WAR."
MR. PITT, once speaking in the House of Commons, in the early part of
his career, of the glorious war which preceded the disastrous one in
which the colonies were lost, called it "the last war." Several members
cried out, "The last war but one." He took no notice; and soon after,
repeating the mistake, he was interrupted by a general cry of "The last
war but one--the last war but one." "I mean, sir," said Mr. Pitt,
turning to the Speaker, and raising his sonorous voice, "I mean, sir,
the last war that Britons would wish to remember." Whereupon the cry was
instantly changed into an universal cheering, long and loud.
KISSES.
WHEN an impudent fellow attempts to kiss a Tennessee girl, she "cuts
your acquaintance;" all their "divine luxuries are preserved for the lad
of their own choice." When you kiss an Arkansas girl, she hops as high
as a cork out of a champagne bottle, and cries, "Whew, how good!" Catch
an Illinois girl and kiss her, and she'll say, "Quit it now, you know
I'll tell mamma!" A kiss from the girls of old Williamson is a tribute
paid to their beauty, taste, and amiability. It is not _accepted_,
however, until the gallant youth who offers it is _accepted_ as the lord
of their hearts' affections, and firmly united with one, his "chosen
love," beneath the same bright star that rules their destiny for ever.
The common confectionery make-believe kisses, wrapped in paper, with a
verse to sweeten them, won't answer with them. We are certain they
won't, for we once saw such a one handed to a beautiful young lady with
the following:--
I'd freely give whole years of bliss,
To gather from thy lips one kiss.
To which the following prompt and neat response was immediately
returned:--
Young men present these to their favourite Miss,
And think by such means to entrap her;
But la! they ne'er catch us with this kind of kiss,
The right kind hain't got any wrapper.
If you kiss a Mississippian gal she'll flare-up like a scorched feather,
and return the compliment by bruising your sky-lights, | 2,079.258107 |
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generously made available by The Internet Archive)
PROOF OF AUTHENTICITY.
This is to certify that I, the undersigned, am personally acquainted
with Samuel S. Hildebrand (better known as “Sam Hildebrand, the
Missouri Bushwhacker,” etc.,) and have known him from boyhood; that
during the war, and on several occasions since its termination, he
promised to give me a full and complete history of his whole war
record; that on the night of January 28th, 1870, he came to my house
at Big River Mills, in St. Francois county, Missouri, in company with
Charles Burks, and gave his consent that I and Charles Burks, in
conjunction, might have his confession whenever we were prepared to
meet him at a certain place for that purpose; that in the latter part
of March, 1870, in the presence of Sam Hildebrand alone, I did write
out his confession as he gave it to me, then and there, until the same
was completed; and that afterwards James W. Evans and myself, from the
material I thus obtained, compiled and completed the said confession,
which is now presented to the public as his Autobiography.
A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D.
* * * * *
STATE OF MISSOURI, }
COUNTY OF STE. GENEVIEVE. }
On this, 14th day of June, 1870, before me, Henry Herter, a Notary
Public within and for said county, personally appeared W. H. Couzens,
J. N. Burks and G. W. Murphy of the above county and State, and on
being duly sworn they stated that they were well acquainted with
Charles Burks of the aforesaid county, and A. Wendell Keith, M. D., of
St. Francois county, Missouri, and to their certain knowledge the facts
set forth in the foregoing certificate are true and correct, and that
Samuel S. Hildebrand also acknowledged to them afterwards that he had
made to them his complete confession.
WM. H. COUZENS, MAJOR C. S. A.,
J. N. BURKS,
G. W. MURPHY.
Subscribed and sworn to before me, this 14th day of June, 1870.
HENRY HERTER,
_Notary Public_.
* * * * *
The Statement made by A. Wendell Keith, M. D., is entitled to credit
from the fact of his well-known veracity and standing in society.
HON. ELLIS G. EVANS,
Senator, Rolla District.
HON. E. C. SEBASTIAN,
Representative, St. Francois county.
HON. MILTON P. CAYCE,
Farmington, Missouri.
FRANKLIN MURPHY,
Sheriff St. Francois county.
WILLIAM R. TAYLOR,
Clerk St. Francois county.
HON. JOSEPH BOGY,
Representative Ste. Genevieve county.
CHARLES ROZIER,
Clerk Ste. Genevieve county.
* * * * *
EXECUTIVE OFFICE, JEFFERSON CITY, MO.,}
June 22, 1870. }
I hereby certify that the persons whose official signatures appear
above have been commissioned for the offices indicated; and my personal
acquaintance with Dr. Keith, Honorables Evans, Sebastian, Cayce,
Bogy and Sheriff Murphy is such that I say without hesitation their
statements are entitled to full faith and credit.
J. W. McCLURG,
_Governor of Missouri_.
[Illustration: HILDEBRAND DRIVEN FROM HOME.]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
SAMUEL S. HILDEBRAND,
THE RENOWNED
MISSOURI “BUSHWHACKER”
AND UNCONQUERABLE
ROB ROY OF AMERICA;
BEING
HIS COMPLETE CONFESSION
RECENTLY MADE TO THE WRITERS, AND CAREFULLY COMPILED
BY JAMES W. EVANS AND A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D.,
OF ST. FRANCOIS COUNTY, MO.;
TOGETHER
WITH ALL THE FACTS CONNECTED WITH HIS
EARLY HISTORY.
JEFFERSON CITY, MO.:
STATE TIMES BOOK AND JOB PRINTING HOUSE,
MADISON STREET.
1870.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
SAM HILDEBRAND DRIVEN FROM HOME _Frontispiece._
FRANK HILDEBRAND HUNG BY THE MOB 45
SAM HILDEBRAND KILLING MCILVAINE 61
THE MURDER OF WASH. HILDEBRAND AND LANDUSKY 69
STAMPEDE OF FEDERAL SOLDIERS 139
SAM HILDEBRAND BETRAYED BY COOTS 179
SAM HILDEBRAND‘S LAST BATTLE 297
COL. BOWEN CAPTURES HILDEBRAND‘S CAVE 303
Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1870, by JAMES W.
EVANS and A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D., in the Clerk‘s Office
of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of
Missouri.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Introduction.—Yankee fiction.—Reasons for making a full
confession. 25
CHAPTER II.
Early history of the Hildebrand family.—Their settlement in
St. Francois county, Mo.—Sam Hildebrand born.—Troublesome
neighbors.—Union sentiments. 29
CHAPTER III.
Determination to take no part in the war.—Mr. Ringer killed
by Rebels.—The cunning device of Allen Roan.—Vigilance
Committee organized.—The baseness of Mobocracy.—Attacked by the
mob.—Escape to Flat Woods. 35
CHAPTER IV.
McIlvaine‘s Vigilance mob.—Treachery of Castleman.—Frank
Hildebrand hung by the mob.—Organization of the mob into a
Militia company. 42
CHAPTER V.
His house at Flat Woods attacked by eighty soldiers.—Miraculous
escape.—Capt. Bolin.—Flight to Green county, Arkansas. 48
CHAPTER VI.
Interview with Gen. Jeff Thompson.—Receives a Major‘s
Commission.—Interview with Capt. Bolin.—Joins the Bushwhacking
Department. 54
CHAPTER VII.
First trip to Missouri.—Killed George Cornecious for reporting
him.—Killed Firman McIlvaine, captain of the mob.—Attempt to
kill McGahan and House.—Return to Arkansas. 58
CHAPTER VIII.
Vigilance mob drives his mother from home.—Three companies of
troops sent to Big river.—Capt. Flanche murders Washington
Hildebrand and Landusky.—Capt. Esroger murders John Roan.—Capt.
Adolph burns the Hildebrand homestead and murders Henry
Hildebrand. 66
CHAPTER IX.
Trip with Burlap and Cato.—Killed a spy near Bloomfield.—Visits
his mother on Dry Creek.—Interview with his uncle.—Sees the
burning of the homestead at a distance. 75
CHAPTER X.
Trip with two men.—Killed Stokes for informing on him.—Secreted
in a cave on Big river.—Vows of vengeance.—Watched for
McGahan.—Tom Haile pleads for Franklin Murphy.—Tongue-lashed
and whipped out by a woman. 84
CHAPTER XI.
Trip to Missouri with three men.—Fight near
Fredericktown.—Killed four soldiers.—Went to their camp and
stole four horses.—Flight toward the South.—Robbed “Old
Crusty”. 91
CHAPTER XII.
Trip with three men.—Captured a spy and shot him.—Shot Mr.
Scaggs.—Charged a Federal camp at night and killed nine
men.—Came near shooting James Craig.—Robbed Bean‘s store and
returned to Arkansas. 96
CHAPTER XIII.
The Militia mob robs the Hildebrand estate.—Trip to Missouri
with ten men.—Attacks a government train with an escort of
twenty men.—Killed two and put the others to flight. 102
CHAPTER XIV.
Federal cruelty.—A defense of Bushwhacking.—Trip with Capt.
Bolin and nine men.—Fight at West Prairie.—Started with two
men to St. Francois county.—Killed a Federal soldier.—Killed
Addison Cunningham.—Capt. Walker kills Capt. Barnes, and
Hildebrand kills Capt. Walker. 106
CHAPTER XV.
Started alone to Missouri.—Rode off a bluff and killed
his horse.—Fell in with twenty-five Rebels under Lieut.
Childs.—Went with them.—Attacked 150 Federals at Bollinger‘s
Mill.— Henry Resinger killed.—William Cato.—Went back to
Fredericktown.—Killed one man.—Robbed Abright‘s store. 114
CHAPTER XVI.
Started to Bloomfield with three men.—Fight at St. Francis
river.—Goes from there alone.—Meets his wife and family, who
had been ordered off from Bloomfield.—Capture and release of
Mrs. Hildebrand.—Fight in Stoddard county.—Arrival in Arkansas.
121
CHAPTER XVII.
Put in a crop.—Took another trip to Missouri with six
men.—Surrounded in a tobacco barn.—Killed two men in making
his escape.—Killed Wammack for informing on him.—Captured some
Federals and released them on certain conditions.—Went to Big
River Mills.—Robbed Highley‘s and Bean‘s stores. 128
CHAPTER XVIII.
Selected seven men and went to <DW64> Wool Swamp.—Attacked
fifteen Federals—A running fight.—Killed three men.—Killed
Mr. Crane.—Betrayed by a Dutchman, and surrounded in a house
by Federals.—Escaped, killed eight Federals, recaptured the
horses, and hung the Dutchman. 136
CHAPTER XIX.
Went with eight men.—Attacked a Federal camp near Bollinger‘s
Mill.—Got defeated.—Men returned to Arkansas.—Went alone to St.
Francois county.—Watched for R. M. Cole.—Killed Capt. Hicks. 147
CHAPTER XX.
Trip to Hamburg with fifteen men.—Hung a Dutchman and shot
another.—Attacked some Federals in Hamburg but got gloriously
whipped.—Retreated to <DW53> Island.—Killed Oller at Flat
Woods.—Robbed Bean‘s store at Irondale. | 2,079.456216 |
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THE CHRISTMAS BOOKS
of
MR. M. A. TITMARSH
by William Makepeace Thackeray
CONTENTS.
CHRISTMAS STORIES.
Mrs. Perkins's Ball
Our Street
Dr. Birch and his Young Friends
The Kickleburys on the Rhine
The Rose and the Ring; or, The History of Prince Giglio and Prince Bulbo
MRS. PERKINS'S BALL.
THE MULLIGAN (OF BALLYMULLIGAN), AND HOW WE WENT TO MRS. PERKINS'S BALL.
I do not know where Ballymulligan is, and never knew anybody who did.
Once I asked the Mulligan the question, when that chieftain assumed a
look of dignity so ferocious, and spoke of "Saxon curiawsitee" in a
tone of such evident displeasure, that, as after all it can matter very
little to me whereabouts lies the Celtic principality in question, I
have never pressed the inquiry any farther.
I don't know even the Mulligan's town residence. One night, as he bade
us adieu in Oxford Street,--"I live THERE," says he, pointing down
towards Oxbridge, with the big stick he carries--so his abode is in that
direction at any rate. He has his letters addressed to several of
his friends' houses, and his parcels, &c. are left for him at various
taverns which he frequents. That pair of checked trousers, in which you
see him attired, he did me the favor of ordering from my own tailor,
who is quite as anxious as anybody to know the address of the wearer. In
like manner my hatter asked me, "Oo was the Hirish gent as 'ad ordered
four 'ats and a sable boar to be sent to my lodgings?" As I did not
know (however I might guess) the articles have never been sent, and the
Mulligan has withdrawn his custom from the "infernal four-and-nine-penny
scoundthrel," as he calls him. The hatter has not shut up shop in
consequence.
I became acquainted with the Mulligan through a distinguished countryman
of his, who, strange to say, did not know the chieftain himself. But
dining with my friend Fred Clancy, of the Irish bar, at Greenwich, the
Mulligan came up, "inthrojuiced" himself to Clancy as he said, claimed
relationship with him on the side of Brian Boroo, and drawing his chair
to our table, quickly became intimate with us. He took a great liking
to me, was good enough to find out my address and pay me a visit: since
which period often and often on coming to breakfast in the morning I
have found him in my sitting-room on the sofa engaged with the rolls
and morning papers: and many a time, on returning home at night for an
evening's quiet reading, I have discovered this honest fellow in the
arm-chair before the fire, perfuming the apartment with my cigars and
trying the quality of such liquors as might be found on the sideboard.
The way in which he pokes fun at Betsy, the maid of the lodgings, is
prodigious. She begins to laugh whenever he comes; if he calls her a
duck, a divvle, a darlin', it is all one. He is just as much a master
of the premises as the individual who rents them at fifteen shillings a
week; and as for handkerchiefs, shirt-collars, and the like articles of
fugitive haberdashery, the loss since I have known him is unaccountable.
I suspect he is like the cat in some houses: for, suppose the whiskey,
the cigars, the sugar, the tea-caddy, the pickles, and other groceries
disappear, all is laid upon that edax-rerum of a Mulligan.
The greatest offence that can be offered to him is to call him MR.
Mulligan. "Would you deprive me, sir," says he, "of the title which was
bawrun be me princelee ancestors in a hundred thousand battles? In
our own green valleys and fawrests, in the American savannahs, in the
sierras of Speen and the flats of Flandthers, the Saxon has quailed
before me war-cry of MULLIGAN ABOO! MR. Mulligan! I'll pitch anybody out
of the window who calls me MR. Mulligan." He said this, and uttered the
slogan of the Mulligans with a shriek so terrific, that my uncle (the
Rev. W. Gruels, of the Independent Congregation, Bungay), who had
happened to address him in the above obnoxious manner, while sitting at
my apartments drinking tea after the May meetings, instantly quitted the
room, and has never taken the least notice of me since, except to state
to the rest of the family that I am doomed irrevocably to perdition.
Well, one day last season, I had received from my kind and most
estimable friend, MRS. PERKINS OF POCKLINGTON SQUARE (to whose amiable
family I have had the honor of giving lessons in drawing, French, and
the German flute), an invitation couched in the usual terms, on satin
gilt-edged note-paper, to her evening-party; or, as I call it, "Ball."
Besides the engraved note sent to all her friends, my kind patroness had
addressed me privately as follows:--
MY DEAR MR. TITMARSH,--If you know any VERY eligible young man, we give
you leave to bring him. You GENTLEMEN love your CLUBS so much now, and
care so little for DANCING, that it is really quite A SCANDAL. Come
early, and before EVERYBODY, and give us the benefit of all your taste
and CONTINENTAL SKILL.
"Your sincere
"EMILY PERKINS."
"Whom shall I bring?" mused I, highly flattered by this mark of
confidence; and I thought of Bob Trippett; and little Fred Spring, of
the Navy Pay Office; Hulker, who is rich, and I knew took lessons
in Paris; and a half-score of other bachelor friends, who might be
considered as VERY ELIGIBLE--when I was roused from my meditation by the
slap of a hand on my shoulder; and looking up, there was the Mulligan,
who began, as usual, reading the papers on my desk.
"Hwhat's this?" says he. "Who's Perkins? Is it a supper-ball, or only a
tay-ball?"
"The Perkinses of Pocklington Square, Mulligan, are tiptop people,"
says I, with a tone of dignity. "Mr. Perkins's sister is married to a
baronet, Sir Giles Bacon, of Hogwash, Norfolk. Mr. Perkins's uncle was
Lord Mayor of London; and he was himself in Parliament, and MAY BE again
any day. The family are my most particular friends. A tay-ball indeed!
why, Gunter..." Here I stopped: I felt I was committing myself.
"Gunter!" says the Mulligan, with another confounded slap on the
shoulder. "Don't say another word: I'LL go widg you, my boy."
"YOU go, Mulligan?" says I: "why, really--I--it's not my party."
"Your hwhawt? hwhat's this letter? a'n't I an eligible young man?--Is
the descendant of a thousand kings unfit company for a miserable
tallow-chandthlering cockney? Are ye joking wid me? for, let me tell ye,
I don't like them jokes. D'ye suppose I'm not as well bawrun and bred as
yourself, or any Saxon friend ye ever had?"
"I never said you weren't, Mulligan," says I.
"Ye don't mean seriously that a Mulligan is not fit company for a
Perkins?"
"My dear fellow, how could you think I could so far insult you?" says I.
"Well, then," says he, "that's a matter settled, and we go."
What the deuce was I to do? I wrote to Mrs. Perkins; and that kind
lady replied, that she would receive the Mulligan, or any other of my
friends, with the greatest cordiality. "Fancy a party, all Mulligans!"
thought I, with a secret terror.
MR. AND MRS. PERKINS, THEIR | 2,079.555383 |
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[Illustration: GLYPTODON.]
BUENOS AYRES,
AND
THE PROVINCES OF THE
RIO DE LA PLATA:
THEIR PRESENT STATE, TRADE, AND DEBT;
WITH SOME ACCOUNT FROM ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS OF THE PROGRESS
OF GEOGRAPHICAL DISCOVERY IN THOSE PARTS OF SOUTH
AMERICA DURING THE LAST SIXTY YEARS.
BY
SIR WOODBINE PARISH, K.C.H.,
F.R.S., G.S., VICE PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON,
MANY YEARS HIS MAJESTY'S CHARGE D'AFFAIRS AT BUENOS AYRES.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1839.
LONDON:
Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES and SONS,
Stamford Street.
INTRODUCTION.
The greater part of the materials for this volume were collected
during a long official residence in the country to which they relate:
containing, as I believe they do, some information which may be
interesting, if not useful, I feel that I ought not to withhold them
from the public, in whose service they were obtained.
The chapters which give an account of the settlements made by the old
Spaniards on the coast of Patagonia, and of the explorations of the
Pampas south of Buenos Ayres, both by them and their successors in the
present century, will be found to throw some new light on the progress
of geographical discovery in that part of the world. Our occupation
of the Falkland Islands, in the first instance, and the work shortly
afterwards published by Falkner in this country, pointing out the
defenceless state of Patagonia, joined to the enterprising character
of the British voyages of discovery about the same period, appears
to have stimulated the Spaniards, in alarm lest we should forestall
them, to examine their coasts, to explore their rivers, and to found
settlements, of which every record was concealed from public view, lest
the world at large should become better acquainted with possessions,
all knowledge of which it was their particular care and policy to
endeavour to keep to themselves.
Thus, though Spain, at an enormous cost, acquired some better
information relative to countries over which she claimed a nominal
sovereignty, the results were not suffered to transpire, but remained
locked up in the secret archives of the viceroys and of the council of
the Indies; where probably they would have been hidden to this day had
not the South Americans assumed the management of their own affairs.
In the confusion which followed the deposition of the Spanish
authorities, the public archives appear to have been ransacked with
little ceremony, and many documents of great interest were lost, or
fell into the hands of individuals who, like collectors of rarities in
other parts of the world, showed anything but a disposition to share
them with the public at large. I will not say that this was always
the case, but the feeling prevailed to a sufficient extent to enhance
materially the value of those which were either offered for sale or
obtainable by other means.
Some few individuals were actuated by a different spirit, amongst whom
I ought especially to name Dr. Segurola, the fellow-labourer with Dean
Funes in his historical essay upon the provinces of La Plata, whose
valuable collection of MSS. (from which that work was principally
compiled) was always accessible to his friends, and to whom I have
to acknowledge my own obligations for leave to take copies of many
an interesting paper. Others, also, whom I do not name, will I trust
not the less accept my thanks for the facilities they afforded me
for obtaining such information as I required. The government, I must
say, was always liberal, in giving me access to the old archives, and
in permitting me to transcribe documents[1] which I could not have
obtained from other quarters.
With these facilities, and by purchase, I found myself, by the time
I quitted South America, in possession of a considerable collection
of MS. maps and of unedited papers respecting countries of which the
greater part of the world is, I believe, in almost absolute ignorance.
Amongst the most interesting perhaps of these I may mention--
The original Diaries of Don Juan de la Piedra, sent out from Spain, in
1778, to explore the coasts of Patagonia.
A series of papers drawn up by his successors the Viedmas, the founders
of the settlements at San Julian and on the Rio <DW64>.
The original Journal of Don Basilio Villarino, who, in 1782, explored
the great river <DW64>, from its mouth in lat. 41 deg. to the foot of the
Andes, within three days' journey of Valdivia, on the shores of the
Pacific.
The Narrative, by Don Luis de la Cruz, of his Journey through the
territory of the Indians and the unexplored parts of the Pampas, from
Antuco, in the south of Chili, to Buenos Ayres, in 1806.
The Diary of Don Pedro Garcia's Expedition to the Salinas, in 1810,
given me by my most estimable friend, his son, Don Manuel.
Together with a variety of other unpublished accounts of the Indian
territories south of Buenos Ayres, principally collected by order of
that government, with a view to the extension of their frontiers.
The substance of these papers, all which relate to the southern and
least known parts of the New Continent, will be found in Chapters VII.,
VIII., and IX.
Respecting the eastern or Littorine provinces of the Republic, as
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ROUNDABOUT PAPERS
By William Makepeace Thackeray
CONTENTS
ROUNDABOUT PAPERS
On a Lazy Idle Boy
On Two Children in Black
On Ribbons
On some late Great Victories
Thorns in the Cushion
On Screens in Dining-Rooms
Tunbridge Toys
De Juventute
On a Joke I once heard from the late Thomas Hood
Round about the Christmas Tree
On a Chalk-Mark on the Door
On being Found Out
On a Hundred Years Hence
Small-Beer Chronicle
Ogres
On Two Roundabout Papers which I intended to Write
A Mississippi Bubble
On Letts's Diary
Notes of a Week's Holiday
Nil Nisi Bonum
On Half a Loaf--A Letter to Messrs. Broadway, Battery and Co., of New
York, Bankers
The Notch on the Axe.--A Story a la Mode. Part I Part II Part III
De Finibus
On a Peal of Bells
On a Pear-Tree
Dessein's
On some Carp at Sans Souci
Autour de mon Chapeau
On Alexandrines--A Letter to some Country Cousins
On a Medal of George the Fourth
"Strange to say, on Club Paper"
The Last Sketch
ROUNDABOUT PAPERS.
ON A LAZY IDLE BOY.
I had occasion to pass a week in the autumn in the little old town
of Coire or Chur, in the Grisons, where lies buried that very ancient
British king, saint, and martyr, Lucius,* who founded the Church of St.
Peter, on Cornhill. Few people note the church now-a-days, and fewer
ever heard of the saint. In the cathedral at Chur, his statue appears
surrounded by other sainted persons of his family. With tight red
breeches, a Roman habit, a curly brown beard, and a neat little gilt
crown and sceptre, he stands, a very comely and cheerful image: and,
from what I may call his peculiar position with regard to Cornhill, I
beheld this figure of St. Lucius with more interest than I should have
bestowed upon personages who, hierarchically, are, I dare say, his
superiors.
* Stow quotes the inscription, still extant, from the table
fast chained in St. Peter's Church, Cornhill; and says, "he
was after some chronicle buried at London, and after some
chronicle buried at Glowcester"--but, oh! these incorrect
chroniclers! when Alban Butler, in the "Lives of the
Saints," v. xii., and Murray's "Handbook," and the Sacristan
at Chur, all say Lucius was killed there, and I saw his tomb
with my own eyes!
The pretty little city stands, so to speak, at the end of the world--of
the world of to-day, the world of rapid motion, and rushing railways,
and the commerce and intercourse of men. From the northern gate, the
iron road stretches away to Zurich, to Basle, to Paris, to home. From
the old southern barriers, before which a little river rushes, and
around which stretch the crumbling battlements of the ancient town, the
road bears the slow diligence or lagging vetturino by the shallow Rhine,
through the awful gorges of the Via Mala, and presently over the Splugen
to the shores of Como.
I have seldom seen a place more quaint, pretty, calm, and pastoral, than
this remote little Chur. What need have the inhabitants for walls
and ramparts, except to build summer-houses, to trail vines, and hang
clothes to dry on them? No enemies approach the great mouldering gates:
only at morn and even the cows come lowing past them, the village
maidens chatter merrily round the fountains, and babble like the
ever-voluble stream that flows under the old walls. The schoolboys,
with book and satchel, in smart uniforms, march up to the gymnasium,
and return thence at their stated time. There is one coffee-house in the
town, and I see one old gentleman goes to it. There are shops with no
customers seemingly, and the lazy tradesmen look out of their little
windows at the single stranger sauntering by. There is a stall with
baskets of queer little black grapes and apples, and a pretty brisk
trade with half a dozen urchins standing round. But, beyond this, there
is scarce any talk or movement in the street. There's nobody at the
book-shop. "If you will have the goodness to come again in an hour,"
says the banker, with his mouthful of dinner at one o'clock, "you can
have the money." There is nobody at the hotel, save the good landlady,
the kind waiters, the brisk young cook who ministers to you. Nobody is
in the Protestant church--(oh! strange sight, the two confessions are
here at peace!)--nobody in the Catholic church: until the sacristan,
from his snug abode in the cathedral close, espies the traveller eying
the monsters and pillars before the old shark-toothed arch of his
cathedral, and comes out (with a view to remuneration possibly) and
opens the gate, and shows you the venerable church, and the queer old
relics in the sacristy, and the ancient vestments (a black velvet
cope, amongst other robes, as fresh as yesterday, and presented by that
notorious "pervert," Henry of Navarre and France), and the statue of St.
Lucius who built St. Peter's Church, on Cornhill.
What a quiet, kind, quaint, pleasant, pretty old town! Has it been
asleep these hundreds and hundreds of years, and is the brisk young
Prince of the Sidereal Realms in his screaming car drawn by his snorting
steel elephant coming to waken it? Time was when there must have been
life and bustle and commerce here. Those vast, venerable walls were
not made to keep out cows, but men-at-arms, led by fierce captains, who
prowled about the gates, and robbed the traders as they passed in and
out with their bales, their goods, their pack-horses, and their wains.
Is the place so dead that even the clergy of the different denominations
can't quarrel? Why, seven or eight, or a dozen, or fifteen hundred years
ago (they haven't the register at St. Peter's up to that remote period.
I dare say it was burnt in the fire of London)--a dozen hundred years
ago, when there was some life in the town, St. Lucius was stoned here
on account of theological differences, after founding our church in
Cornhill.
There was a sweet pretty river walk we used to take in the evening
and mark the mountains round glooming with a deeper purple; the shades
creeping up the golden walls; the river brawling, the cattle calling,
the maids and chatter-boxes round the fountains babbling and bawling;
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TALES OF A TRAVELLER
BY
WASHINGTON IRVING
CONTENTS.
PART FIRST.
STRANGE STORIES BY A NERVOUS GENTLEMAN.
A Hunting Dinner
Adventure of my Uncle
Adventure of my Aunt
Bold Dragoon
Adventure of the Mysterious Picture
Adventure of the Mysterious Stranger
Story of the Young Italian
PART | 2,079.591612 |
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Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Minor typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed.
[Illustration: cover]
[Illustration: titlepage]
Faith and Duty
Sermons on Free Texts
With Reference to the Church-Year
By the
REV. LOUIS BUCHHEIMER
Pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Our Redeemer, St. Louis, Mo.
[Illustration: logo]
ST. LOUIS, MO.
CONCORDIA PUBLISHING HOUSE
1913
CONTENTS.
PAGE
First Sunday in Advent. Gen. 7, 1 1
Second Sunday in Advent. Rev. 20, 11. 12. 15 7
Third Sunday in Advent. 2 Cor. 8, 23 14
Fourth Sunday in Advent. Luke 1, 78 20
Christmas. 2 Cor. 9, 15 25
Last Sunday in the Year. Isaiah 64, 6 31
New Year's Day. Matt. 6, 9 37
Epiphany Sunday. John 8, 12 43
First Sunday after Epiphany. Eccl. 12, 1 48
Second Sunday after Epiphany. Hebr. 14, 4 54
Third Sunday after Epiphany. John 4, 14. 15 60
Fourth Sunday after Epiphany. Matt. 14, 22-27 67
Fifth Sunday after Epiphany. Matt. 13, 47. 48 73
Septuagesima Sunday. Matt. 20, 15 79
Sexagesima Sunday. John 5, 39 85
Quinquagesima Sunday. Rom. 3, 23 90
First Sunday in Lent. Exodus 17, 8-13 96
Second Sunday in Lent. 2 Tim. 4, 10 102
Third Sunday in Lent. Luke 7, 39 108
Fourth Sunday in Lent. Matt. 18, 7 114
Fifth Sunday in Lent. Exodus 12, 13 119
Palm Sunday. Gen. 35, 1-3 124
Easter. John 5, 28. 29 129
First Sunday after Easter. John 21, 4 134
Second Sunday after Easter. John 21, 15-17 140
Third Sunday after Easter. Matt. 5, 15. 16 145
Fourth Sunday after Easter. Col. 3, 16 150
Fifth Sunday after Easter. Eph. 6, 18 156
Ascension. Mark 16, 19 161
Sunday after Ascension. Luke 9, 26 166
Pentecost. Zech. 4, 6 171
Trinity Sunday. 2 Cor. 13, 14 176
First Sunday after Trinity. Matt. 25, 46 181
Second Sunday after Trinity. Acts 24, 25 186
Third Sunday after Trinity. Matt. 9, 9-13 192
Fourth Sunday after Trinity. Matt. 16, 19 197
Fifth Sunday after Trinity. Acts 9, 17. 18 202
Sixth Sunday after Trinity. 2 Tim. 3, 5 208
Seventh Sunday after Trinity. Luke 12, 6 213
Eighth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Tim. 6, 20 218
Ninth Sunday after Trinity. Luke 12, 16-21 225
Tenth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Cor. 12, 12 and 26 230
Eleventh Sunday after Trinity. Rom. 3, 28 236
Twelfth Sunday after Trinity. Prov. 22, 6 241
Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. Matt. 25, 40 246
Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. 2 Pet. 1, 5-7 252
Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Pet. 5, 7 258
Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity. 2 Kings 20, 1-6 263
Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Cor. 3, 11-15 269
Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity. 1 Kings 18, 21 274
Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity. John 5, 1-9 280
Twentieth Sunday after Trinity. Luke 12, 54-56 286
Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity. Luke 14, 28-30 292
Twenty-second Sunday after Trinity. Gal. 6, 1 297
Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. Mark 12, 41-44 303
Humiliation and Prayer Sunday. Dan. 5, 27 309
Reformation. Ps. 87, 1-3 314
FIRST SUNDAY IN ADVENT.
Come thou and all thy house into the ark.--_Gen. 7, 1._
The Bible, from beginning to end, is a series of object lessons. God
sets before us certain persons, things, events, and bids us look at
and learn from them, just as the teacher at school draws a diagram
on the blackboard, and tells the children to look at and learn from
it. No word, or single incident, recorded in the Bible, is wasted or
useless; what may, at first glance, sometimes appear trifling and
unimportant to us, may, on closer examination, mean very much, like
the decimal point in arithmetic or the accent on a word. So it is
with the words of the text just quoted. They may seem insignificant,
yet are they most important.
The present season, beginning with this Sunday, is called Advent.
We are accustomed, in the four weeks before Christmas, to direct
our minds to Christ's advent or coming. This advent, we say, is
threefold: First, there is Christ's coming in the flesh, when as a
little babe He lay in the manger at Bethlehem, taking upon Himself
the form of Abraham, made in the likeness of human flesh, and
performing the pilgrimage of an earthly life that He might thus save
man. Again, we distinguish His second coming, _i. e._, His return,
as we confess in the Creed, "to judge the quick and the dead," when,
arrayed in all the power and majesty of Almightiness, He shall
come to execute vengeance upon the evildoers, vindicate and take
home with Himself those who believed in Him. And between these two
comings lies a third, which we are wont to designate "His spiritual
coming," by which we mean His coming and knocking at the door of
our hearts for admission. This coming is not visible, however,
as the other two, but invisible, yet none the less real on that
account, and it is carried on by means of His Word and sacraments,
through the instrumentality of the preaching of the Gospel and
the administration of Holy Baptism and the Lord's Supper, for the
execution of which He has founded a divine institution called the
Church. To that Church He has entrusted the work of Gospel preaching
and sacramental giving. She, if true to her calling and message, is
the conservatory of His truth, the disseminator of His kingdom upon
earth. It is within her pales that He dispenses salvation. Outside
of the Church He does not promise to bestow forgiveness of sin and
the blessings of His grace. How these preliminary remarks bear upon
the selection and consideration of our text, what precious and
instructive lessons we may gather from the comparison, that let us
see, and may we be wise and heed.
"Come thou and all thy house into the ark," reads the command of
God. We immediately perceive with what account of ancient history
that connects. The people of the Old World, the antediluvians, as
they are generally called, had become so corrupt in morals and life
that God determined their destruction and said: "The end of all
flesh is come before me, for the earth is filled with violence,"
yet, to show His desire to save them, He appointed His servant Noah
to preach righteousness to them, and directed him to build an ark
as an evidence that He was minded to carry out His purpose, and as
a means of safety for Noah. Few, however, none, in fact, except
Noah and his immediate family, eight souls in all, took the warning
to heart. Many a one of that perverse generation, we may surmise,
even assisted in the construction of the ark, and the patriarchal
minister would exhort them to forsake their sins and worship God,
only to be sneered at for his credulity and ridiculed for his
nonsensical eccentricity of building such a boathouse.
But the hundred and twenty years given for probation expired, and
Noah receives directions to embark. "Come thou," is the command,
"into the ark." Just one week is allowed to bring into the ark
all his family, and the birds and beasts to be preserved, and
then--what an unusual sound it must have been--the door was shut,
not by Noah's, or any human hand, but by the hand of Jehovah; for
it is written: "And the Lord shut him in," and now, amid the war
of heaven's artillery and the shaking of the earth, the fountains
of the deep burst open, and the windows of the skies break loose,
and the greatest and most terrible calamity Revelation records is
on. Imagination cannot portray the scenes that must have then been
enacted,--how, forgetful of everything but self-preservation, they
fled towards the singular building, which but a little before they
had insolently defied; how, perhaps laboring in their distraction
to scramble up its huge sides, the angry tide of waters keeps
them down, and with a cry of despair they dash into the watery
abyss; how some, climbing up to the loftiest pinnacle and summit
of the mountains, in the hope that perhaps at the end the door
may be opened to receive a few more, they see the wondrous ship
dashing along, gallant and safe, and hear that gurgling sound, the
death requiem of their race, rising higher and higher. Oh! who can
describe the anguish, the woe, the cursing of self. But it was now
too late, and yet, whose fault was it? Provision had been made,
probation time had been granted them; there was none to blame but
themselves. God's warnings are not empty sounds, His institutions
not for ridicule and rejection. And now, more generally, for the
application.
We, too, have an ark, a New Testament Ark. God, Himself, as the
divine architect and artificer, has built it; He devised the plans,
He selected the material, and employs the Noahs in its construction;
daily do we see before our eyes its towers and walls, hear regularly
and pleadingly the bells sending out the invitation: "Come thou
into the ark." You know what this ark is,--it's the Holy Christian
Church, that divine structure which by Him has been finished these
1900 years. There, in the midst of a world of sin and depravity,
upon which God has pronounced His righteous judgments as clearly as
upon the race of antediluvians, it stands,--the great, the capacious
Gospel Ark, a refuge of safety; come whatever Jehovah may commission
upon our guilty world, it is certain to ride safely above the
tumultuous tempest and bring us gallantly to the celestial mountain,
the Ararat of Heaven.
My dear hearer, have you entered into that ark? Is your name
enrolled among the list of passengers? And why not? Make known the
reason of your backwardness. In other words, without figure, lay
before you the question: Why are you not a church-member? Why do you
stand aloof from the church? Why do you not join? I shall listen
to a few of your reasons, and then tell you why you ought to join.
Perhaps you are laboring under the fear that there is not room
enough for you in the ark, that you are not invited among them to
whom the gracious offer is tendered. Banish that thought instantly
from your mind. "Not room enough in the ark!" "Not wanted!" "Come
thou and thy house into the ark." You know the beautiful parable of
the Great Supper, to which all and sundry were invited, and after
everything had been precisely done as the master had commanded,
the servant comes and tells the master of the house: "Yet there is
room." A striking truth! Those words reveal that the Christian Ark
is not yet fully tenanted, that, as the invitation is still out, you
are yet in time.
"Not _room_--not _wanted_!" God forbid that such a thought should
in your breasts be found. "Come unto me," declared your Savior,
"come thou into the ark." But you say: "I do belong to the church,
the so-called 'Big Church,' _i. e._, to the number of those who
still profess to be Christians, who uphold Christian principles and
live good moral lives, who aim at what is right, and I am just as
good and honest as any in the church." Perhaps so, my dear friend,
perhaps more so, for not all that profess to be church-members
are such; some are slimy and wily hypocrites. But _you_, as an
honorable and professing Christian, ought to be a church-member,
for you know that Christ does not acknowledge the "Big Church" of
which you are speaking. You cannot put asunder what Christ has
joined together. He has joined these two things together, Himself
and the Church; outside of His ark He promises no salvation, and
you have no right to expect it. For what is the Church? It is
Christ's provision for the salvation of man,--how? By the preaching
of His holy Word and the administration of His sacraments, as we
heard. Is the Word of God preached in the "Big Church"? Is Baptism
administered, the Lord's Communion received? How can faith in the
Savior then be wrought, maintained, forgiveness of sins secured,
hope and salvation? "Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the
Word of God," says the Bible. "If ye continue in my Word, then are
ye my disciples, indeed," says the Savior. "He that believeth and is
baptized shall be saved." "Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man
and drink His blood, ye have no life in you."
I doubt not that many of the antediluvians did not despise the ark
outright. Who knows but what they might have thought there was
something to it,--when the great calamity comes we shall be all
right,--and that they told the preacher of righteousness: "Never
mind about us, Noah, our record is still good." But salvation was in
the ark, and there it is to-day; you cannot separate Christ from His
Church, Christliness from Churchliness, for the Church is Christ's,
and Christ is in His Church; and I know not, from the study of God's
Word, the Bible, what right any man has to stand aloof from the
Christian Church and call himself a Christian. The "Big Church" is
a big delusion.
"Yes, I recognize that I ought to belong to the Church, but I do not
like to bind myself," pleads another. Bind yourself? To what? To a
life of godliness, to a conduct becoming a Christian, to the duties
incumbent upon a member? Why, if you are a Christian at all, you are
bound by these things already. The further few hours occasionally
given to the deliberation of congregational affairs ought not to
deter you. You are bound already, why speak about binding yourself?
And you certainly do not want to be unbound,--for in the ark alone
is your safety.
There are yet other reasons why some do not join the Church. In our
materialistic age, there are hundreds whom the love of money keeps
out of the house of God. It costs something, and they shun costs, no
matter for what purpose--ever so noble. They hold connections which
the Church cannot sanction, belong to organizations against which it
finds itself compelled to testify, and because people cannot bear
to have their connections reproved, and do not stop to weigh and
consider what the Church has to say, they immediately, without any
further ado, break off all relation with the Church, and raise the
cry against it of being too strict, and stay away from the preaching
and the sacraments, none of which have been denied them, and to
which they are warmly invited and heartily welcomed. They will once
have to answer for it. The invitation remains: "Come thou and all
thy house into the ark."--
And now, having listened to why some people do not belong to the
Church, let us regard a few reasons why each and every Christian
ought to be a church-member. First, there is the positive command
of God. The Lord said unto Noah--commanded, directed him: "Come
thou and all thy house into the ark." His directions to us and ours
are not less specific. His Third Commandment reads: "Thou shalt
sanctify the holyday." Where does the sanctification of that day
take place but in His Church, in the observance of its institutions?
He warns: "Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as
the manner of some is." Again, take all such clear passages in
which He commands us to profess piety as this: "I say unto you,
Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I also confess
before my Father which is in heaven," which, if it means anything,
certainly means that we must either be publicly and openly rated
among His confessors, or He will not consent to acknowledge us among
His saints. How can a man be a proper child of God who will not so
much as give His name as a believer? What guarantee has he to count
securely on salvation if he refuses to say before men whether he
takes Christ as his Redeemer, or not? It is true: "With the heart
man believeth unto righteousness," but it is equally true: "With the
mouth confession is made unto salvation." Church-membership is not
optional; it is imperative, it is based upon God's command.
Another reason for church-membership is, that a Christian must
advance his Master's cause. If you are at liberty to decline
connection with Christ's Church, then I am; if one is, all are,
and how, then, can there be the maintenance of the ministry, the
furtherance of the manifest kingdom of God? We pray daily: "Hallowed
be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in
heaven." When is God's name hallowed? When does His kingdom come?
And by what influences and agencies is His will done on earth but
by this organization established by Himself for that purpose,--His
holy Church? Who keeps up the work of the ministry with its
schools of education, who maintains the propagation of the faith
by the support of missions, and all those other efforts essential
to the preservation and spreading of Christ's kingdom, and you,
as a disciple of Christ, should be found standing aloof from it,
not helping along yourself, yea, by your passive indifference and
non-cooperation setting a bad example unto others? Your duty in this
respect is as plain as Noah's,--you should get into the ark.
And, reason last. It promotes your own good. Aside from what we
have already emphasized, there is something in the simple matter
of being known and feeling committed as a member of a Church which
strengthens and helps a man. It restrains where otherwise there
would be no restraint. It induces to arouse a livelier sense of
religious obligations, stimulates to stricter fidelity in the
observance of things which otherwise are easily neglected, secures
the watch and oversight of experienced Christians, and, withal,
gives a force and quickening which comes from conviction that one is
rated as a disciple of Christ and looked to for example in faith, in
word, and in deeds. It brings spiritual things and Christian duty
closer home. If conscientiously attended to, it is a blessing to
you, and it makes you a blessing to others.
Let this suffice on this subject at this time. Let those who have
held and are holding membership draw a rule from what has been said
for the regulation of their conduct. So divine and essential a cause
enlists their endeavors. Let them make it their business to honor
it, to widen and extend its influences by being punctual at the
services, by being particular in the observance of its sacraments,
by being uncompromising in the belief and defense of its faith, by
being active in encouraging all efforts necessary to its life and
success. And those who have hitherto stood aloof from the Church,
or who are mere lingerers about its gates, let them also learn from
this the unsatisfactoriness of their position, and be admonished of
the duty and necessity that is upon them if they would find God and
salvation.
"Come thou and thy family into the ark,"--what time could be more
opportune than this first day of another year of God's grace?
Consider the matter, and may it lead you to lay your vow upon God's
altar and have your name recorded on the roster of the Church. Amen.
SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT.
And I saw a great white throne, and Him that sat on it. And I
saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books
were opened; and another book was opened which is the book of
life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were
written in the books, according to their works; and whosoever
was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake
of fire.--_Rev. 20, 11. 12. 15._
We are all acquainted, my beloved, with the verdict that was once
pronounced upon King Belshazzar of Babylon,--how, seated one night
at a royal banquet, with his princes, his wives and concubines,
eating, drinking, and making merry, there suddenly appeared upon the
wall of his palace the ghostly fingers of a man's hand tracing in
clear and distinct letters the words: "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin."
When the king saw the mysterious script and surmised its probable
meaning, his countenance was changed, the joints of his loins were
loosed, and his knees smote one against another. The wisest man in
his realm was sent for, one Daniel, the Lord's prophet, interprets
the words and tells him: "Mene: God has numbered thy kingdom and
finished it. Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balance and found
wanting. Upharsin: Thy kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and
Persians." Nor was it the space of two hours before the verdict met
its fulfillment. Darius, the king of the Medes, by a subterranean
passage, dug under the city's walls, broke into the city. Belshazzar
was slain that night, and his mighty empire shattered like chaff
before the wind.
"Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin," that is the handwriting which one
might appropriately inscribe over the portals of this day. Loving
and warning as was the picture which we contemplated on the last
Lord's Day, where we observed our Savior riding in royal state,
in the City of David, and heard the prophet's prediction: "Tell
ye the daughter of Sion, Behold, thy King cometh unto thee, meek
and sitting upon a colt," just as tremendous and awfully solemn is
the account in to-day's Gospel, which presents to us that selfsame
King transformed into a judge, His meekness into righteous display,
His offers of salvation into sentences of sharpness, justice, and
retribution, parceling out to every one, as He did unto Belshazzar
at Babylon, the just verdict of his deed. It is Christ's "Second
Advent," His coming to judge the quick and the dead, that forms
the topic of our present contemplation, and taking up the account
read from Revelations, step by step, may God's Holy Spirit make our
consideration of it a blessing to your souls. Four things enlist our
devotion: _I. The Judge_; _II. the judged_; _III. the books_; _IV.
the results_.
The first thing that arrested the Apostle's eye was the throne. "And
I saw a great white throne," he tells us. Thrones are the seats of
kings and sovereigns, and they are always associated with the idea
of regal splendor and magnificence. Just so the meaning is, that
when the blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings and Lord
of lords, appears in the clouds of heaven, He will be surrounded
with the manifestations of grandeur, majesty, and dominion, as the
Gospel indicates when it says: "Then shall ye see the Son of Man
coming in great glory," and things are particularly specified, too,
regarding this throne. It is a "great throne," like the one which
Isaiah, the prophet, saw in one of his visions "high and lifted up,"
so that the millions and myriads of earth can easily discern it as
the spot where they shall hear their eternal destiny read out. And
it was also a "white" throne. White, in the language of the Bible
and of all nations, is the mark of purity and holiness, and when,
accordingly, the throne is designated as being "white," it means
that white decisions will be rendered there, stainless judgment,
unspotted by the least prejudice, crookedness, partiality, or
mistakes; none will think of questioning their equity, or dream of
appealing to any higher court. Their verdict will be final and fair.
The next object that attracted the Apostle's eye was the Judge
Himself: "And I saw Him that sat on it." No further description of
the personal appearance of the Judge is given. John simply says: "I
saw Him," whence it follows that He can be seen, and, accordingly,
it could not have been the absolute, invisible God, who cannot be
seen. Who, then, was it? It was none other than Jesus Christ, of
whom we confess in the Second Article that He was born of the Virgin
Mary, was crucified, dead and buried, and the third day rose again,
and, ascending into heaven, shall come again to judge the quick
and the dead. This is the plain teaching of Scripture throughout.
Christ Jesus, the Son of Man, wearing the very nature of those whom
He judges, will be the Judge. "God hath appointed a day in which
He will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom He hath
ordained." But not any longer as the gentle, compassionate Savior,
as the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world, but as the
Lion of the tribe of Judah, as the Judge from whose face the earth
and the heavens will flee away, and the unrighteous call out in
despair: "Ye mountains, fall upon us, and ye hills, hide us from Him
that sitteth on the throne." And think not, we would here add, that
we are describing matters of imagination, such as poets and painters
may dwell upon. We are describing things that will really happen.
John saw these things in vision. You and I shall one day see these
things in reality. "Behold, He cometh with clouds, and every eye
shall see Him." Where shall be _our_ place, what _our_ portion at
that time, in that day?
This we learn from the next point of consideration: Who shall be
the judged? "And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before
God." By the "dead" here are meant _all mankind_, the entire family
of earth, all of woman born, from Adam down to the last offspring
of human race,--they must all appear before the judgment-seat of
Christ. It is computed that there are more than eighty millions
of inhabitants in our land. This is about one-twentieth part
of the entire population of the globe, which, at this time, is
calculated at one billion five hundred millions. These one billion
five hundred millions will be all gathered together into one
thronging assemblage, and not they only, but also, in addition,
the two hundred generations of men who have preceded us, and
those generations--how many we know not, God knoweth--that will
still live in the earth between these days and the last general
judgment. These all, which no man can number, shall be judged. It
says: "The great and small." There will be no distinction of age,
size, color, or nation, condition or rank, those of high degree and
those of low estate, the rich and the poor, the sovereign and his
subjects, the man of silvery hair and the infant of a span long, the
distinguished scholar and the untutored savage, husband and wife,
pastor and people, apostles and sinners,--all shall stand before
God. All the dead, whose bodies were once consigned by loving hands
to quiet resting-chambers beneath mother earth, those whose bones
lie bleached upon the desert's sands or Alpine mountains, those
whose corpse was lowered down into watery depths,--immaterial how,
when, or where dead,--these all shall yield up their tents when the
trumpet of the archangel sounds to gather the children of men unto
judgment. And with the parties thus arrayed at the bar, we proceed
to the judgment itself.
"And the books were opened, and another book was opened which is the
book of life. And the dead were judged out of those things which
were written in the books." Two sets of books are here spoken of:
first, two books, and then another book. Other passages in God's
Word also speak of books in connection with the Judgment. What
the character of these books spoken of is we are not at a loss to
determine; the one is the book of God's remembrance, and the other
is the book of God's Word. Not as if God in reality employs books
to make His entries; the all-knowing King needs no such helps to
remind Him of men's actions. His all-capacious mind knows all things
and forgets nothing. The idea is: Just as men, in their manifold
dealings, do not trust to their memories, but use memoranda and
records in order to be able to refer to them as occasion requires,
just so, in condescension to our way of thinking, figuratively
speaking, God represents Himself as keeping a book in which He
has an exact record of what has been done by any creature, past,
present, and future. And an exact record it will be, accurate in the
minutest detail. Not only man's general character, the sum total
of his life, whether (taken altogether) he was, on the whole, a
worldly or a pious man, or the like, will be taken into account,
but every trifling act, good or bad, of which his entire life was
composed. The word is: "God shall bring every work into judgment,
with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil."
Everything. Nothing shall be kept back, nothing will be overlooked.
That thought that passed so rapidly through your mind as hardly
to be noticed, that word that so hastily escaped your lips, all
the deliberate and determined actions which have left their stain
upon your life, all these, down to the secret sin that you have
been so successful in hiding from the sight of man, all, whether
done in childhood, youth, manhood, or old age, all that has been
committed or omitted, will be opened out to public view by the
all-seeing, all-remembering Judge. This is the first book, the Book
of Remembrance.
And the divine Arbiter opens another book. We have no difficulty in
recognizing it at once. It is to us a familiar volume,--"The word
that I have spoken, the same shall judge you in the last day," is
the language of the Judge Himself. That book, we contend, is the
guide and rule of our faith and actions in this life; it is also
the statute-book of heaven, the touchstone by which our hearts and
lives are to be tried in the life hereafter. Plain enough are the
directions that book tells you. "Thou shalt love the Lord, thy God,
with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and
thy neighbor as thyself." Plainly does it speak to you and to all
of heaven, of judgment, of eternity, of faith, of holiness, and of
the new birth and conversion; plainly does | 2,079.655264 |
2023-11-16 18:51:43.8373100 | 4,057 | 46 |
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
[Illustration: THE OLD MAJOR.]
The Works of E.P. Roe
VOLUME THIRTEEN
HIS SOMBRE RIVALS
ILLUSTRATED
1883
PREFACE
The following story has been taking form in my mind for several years,
and at last I have been able to write it out. With a regret akin to
sadness, I take my leave, this August day, of people who have become
very real to me, whose joys and sorrows I have made my own. Although a
Northern man, I think my Southern readers will feel that I have sought
to do justice to their motives. At this distance from the late Civil
War, it is time that passion and prejudice sank below the horizon, and
among the surviving soldiers who were arrayed against each other I
think they have practically disappeared. Stern and prolonged conflict
taught mutual respect. The men of the Northern armies were convinced,
beyond the shadow of a doubt, that they had fought men and
Americans--men whose patriotism and devotion to a cause sacred to them
was as pure and lofty as their own. It is time that sane men and women
should be large-minded enough to recognize that, whatever may have been
the original motives of political leaders, the people on both sides
were sincere and honest; that around the camp-fires at their hearths
and in their places of worship they looked for God's blessing on their
efforts with equal freedom from hypocrisy.
I have endeavored to portray the battle of Bull Run as it could appear
to a civilian spectator: to give a suggestive picture and not a general
description. The following war-scenes are imaginary, and by
personal reminiscence. I was in the service nearly four years, two of
which were spent with the cavalry. Nevertheless, justly distrustful of
my knowledge of military affairs, I have submitted my proofs to my
friend Colonel H. C. Hasbrouck, Commandant of Cadets at West Point, and
therefore have confidence that as mere sketches of battles and
skirmishes they are not technically defective.
The title of the story will naturally lead the reader to expect that
deep shadows rest upon many of its pages. I know it is scarcely the
fashion of the present time to portray men and women who feel very
deeply about anything, but there certainly was deep feeling at the time
of which I write, as, in truth, there is to-day. The heart of humanity
is like the ocean. There are depths to be stirred when the causes are
adequate. E. P. R.
CORNWALL-ON-THE-HUDSON, _August_ 21, 1883.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I AN EMBODIMENT OF MAY
CHAPTER II MERE FANCIES
CHAPTER III THE VERDICT OF A SAGE
CHAPTER IV WARNING OR INCENTIVE
CHAPTER V IMPRESSIONS
CHAPTER VI PHILOSOPHY AT FAULT
CHAPTER VII WARREN HILLAND
CHAPTER VIII SUPREME MOMENTS
CHAPTER IX THE REVELATION
CHAPTER X THE KINSHIP OF SUFFERING
CHAPTER XI THE ORDEAL
CHAPTER XII FLIGHT TO NATURE
CHAPTER XIII THE FRIENDS
CHAPTER XIV NOBLE DECEPTION
CHAPTER XV "I WISH HE HAD KNOWN"
CHAPTER XVI THE CLOUD IN THE SOUTH
CHAPTER XVII PREPARATION
CHAPTER XVIII THE CALL TO ARMS
CHAPTER XIX THE BLOOD-RED SKY
CHAPTER XX TWO BATTLES
CHAPTER XXI THE LOGIC OF EVENTS
CHAPTER XXII SELF-SENTENCED
CHAPTER XXIII AN EARLY DREAM FULFILLED
CHAPTER XXIV UNCHRONICLED CONFLICTS
CHAPTER XXV A PRESENTIMENT
CHAPTER XXVI AN IMPROVISED PICTURE GALLERY
CHAPTER XXVII A DREAM
CHAPTER XXVIII ITS FULFILMENT
CHAPTER XXIX A SOUTHERN GIRL
CHAPTER XXX GUERILLAS
CHAPTER XXXI JUST IN TIME
CHAPTER XXXII A WOUNDED SPIRIT
CHAPTER XXXIII THE WHITE-HAIRED NURSE
CHAPTER XXXIV RITA'S BROTHER
CHAPTER XXXV HIS SOMBRE RIVALS
CHAPTER XXXVI ALL MATERIALISTS
CHAPTER XXXVII THE EFFORT TO LIVE
CHAPTER XXXVIII GRAHAM'S LAST SACRIFICE
CHAPTER XXXIX MARRIED UNCONSCIOUSLY
CHAPTER XL RITA ANDERSON
CHAPTER XLI A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM
CHAPTER I
AN EMBODIMENT OF MAY
"Beyond that revolving light lies my home. And yet why should I use
such a term when the best I can say is that a continent is my home?
Home suggests a loved familiar nook in the great world. There is no
such niche for me, nor can I recall any place around which my memory
lingers with especial pleasure."
In a gloomy and somewhat bitter mood, Alford Graham thus soliloquized
as he paced the deck of an in-coming steamer. In explanation it may be
briefly said that he had been orphaned early in life, and that the
residences of his guardians had never been made homelike to him. While
scarcely more than a child he had been placed at boarding-schools where
the system and routine made the youth's life little better than that of
a soldier in his barrack. Many boys would have grown hardy, aggressive,
callous, and very possibly vicious from being thrown out on the world
so early. Young Graham became reticent and to superficial observers
shy. Those who cared to observe him closely, however, discovered that
it was not diffidence, but indifference toward others that
characterized his manner. In the most impressible period of his life he
had received instruction, advice and discipline in abundance, but love
and sympathy had been denied. Unconsciously his heart had become
chilled, benumbed and overshadowed by his intellect. The actual world
gave him little and seemed to promise less, and, as a result not at all
unnatural, he became something of a recluse and bookworm even before he
had left behind him the years of boyhood.
Both comrades and teachers eventually learned that the retiring and
solitary youth was not to be trifled with. He looked his instructor
steadily in the eye when he recited, and while his manner was
respectful, it was never deferential, nor could he be induced to yield
a point, when believing himself in the right, to mere arbitrary
assertion; and sometimes he brought confusion to his teacher by quoting
in support of his own view some unimpeachable authority.
At the beginning of each school term there were usually rough fellows
who thought the quiet boy could be made the subject of practical jokes
and petty annoyances without much danger of retaliation. Graham would
usually remain patient up to a certain point, and then, in dismay and
astonishment, the offender would suddenly find himself receiving a
punishment which he seemed powerless to resist. Blows would fall like
hail, or if the combatants closed in the struggle, the aggressor
appeared to find in Graham's slight form sinew and fury only. It seemed
as if the lad's spirit broke forth in such a flame of indignation that
no one could withstand him. It was also remembered that while he was
not noted for prowess on the playground, few could surpass him in the
gymnasium, and that he took long solitary rambles. Such of his
classmates, therefore, as were inclined to quarrel with him because of
his unpopular ways soon learned that he kept up his muscle with the
best of them, and that, when at last roused, his anger struck like
lightning from a cloud.
During the latter part of his college course he gradually formed a
strong friendship for a young man of a different type, an ardent
sunny-natured youth, who proved an antidote to his morbid tendencies.
They went abroad together and studied for two years at a German
university, and then Warren Hilland, Graham's friend, having inherited
large wealth, returned to his home. Graham, left to himself, delved
more and more deeply in certain phases of sceptical philosophy. It
appeared to him that in the past men had believed almost everything,
and that the heavier the drafts made on credulity the more largely had
they been honored. The two friends had long since resolved that the
actual and the proved should be the base from which they would advance
into the unknown, and they discarded with equal indifference
unsubstantiated theories of science and what they were pleased to term
the illusions of faith. "From the verge of the known explore the
unknown," was their motto, and it had been their hope to spend their
lives in extending the outposts of accurate knowledge, in some one or
two directions, a little beyond the points already reached. Since the
scalpel and microscope revealed no soul in the human mechanism they
regarded all theories and beliefs concerning a separate spiritual
existence as mere assumption. They accepted the materialistic view. To
them each generation was a link in an endless chain, and man himself
wholly the product of an evolution which had no relations to a creative
mind, for they had no belief in the existence of such a mind. They held
that one had only to live wisely and well, and thus transmit the
principle of life, not only unvitiated, but strengthened and enlarged.
Sins against body and mind were sins against the race, and it was their
creed that the stronger, fuller and more nearly complete they made
their lives the richer and fuller would be the life that succeeded
them. They scouted as utterly unproved and irrational the idea that
they could live after death, excepting as the plant lives by adding to
the material life and well-being of other plants. But at that time the
spring and vigor of youth were in their heart and brain, and it seemed
to them a glorious thing to live and do their part in the advancement
of the race toward a stage of perfection not dreamed of by the
unthinking masses.
Alas for their visions of future achievement! An avalanche of wealth
had overwhelmed Hilland. His letters to his friend had grown more and
more infrequent, and they contained many traces of the business cares
and the distractions inseparable from his possessions and new
relations. And now for causes just the reverse Graham also was
forsaking his studies. His modest inheritance, invested chiefly in real
estate, had so far depreciated that apparently it could not much longer
provide for even his frugal life abroad.
"I must give up my chosen career for a life of bread-winning," he had
concluded sadly, and he was ready to avail himself of any good opening
that offered. Therefore he knew not where his lot would be cast on the
broad continent beyond the revolving light that loomed every moment
more distinctly in the west.
A few days later found him at the residence of Mrs. Mayburn, a pretty
cottage in a suburb of an eastern city. This lady was his aunt by
marriage, and had long been a widow. She had never manifested much
interest in her nephew, but since she was his nearest relative he felt
that he could not do less than call upon her. To his agreeable surprise
he found that time had mellowed her spirit and softened her
angularities. After the death of her husband she had developed unusual
ability to take care of herself, and had shown little disposition to
take care of any one else. Her thrift and economy had greatly enhanced
her resources, and her investments had been profitable, while the sense
of increasing abundance had had a happy effect on her character. Within
the past year she had purchased the dwelling in which she now resided,
and to which she welcomed Graham with unexpected warmth. So far from
permitting him to make simply a formal call, she insisted on an
extended visit, and he, divorced from his studies and therefore feeling
his isolation more keenly than ever before, assented.
"My home is accessible," she said, "and from this point you can make
inquiries and look around for business opportunities quite as well as
from a city hotel."
She was so cordial, so perfectly sincere, that for the first time in
his life he felt what it was to have kindred and a place in the world
that was not purchased.
He had found his financial affairs in a much better condition than he
had expected. Some improvements were on foot which promised to advance
the value of his real estate so largely as to make him independent, and
he was much inclined to return to Germany and resume his studies.
"I will rest and vegetate for a time," he concluded. "I will wait till
my friend Hilland returns from the West, and then, when the impulse of
work takes possession of me again, I will decide upon my course."
He had come over the ocean to meet his fate, and not the faintest
shadow of a presentiment of this truth crossed his mind as he looked
tranquilly from his aunt's parlor window at the beautiful May sunset.
The cherry blossoms were on the wane, and the light puffs of wind
brought the white petals down like flurries of snow; the plum-trees
looked as if the snow had clung to every branch and spray, and they
were as white as they could have been after some breathless,
large-flaked December storm; but the great apple-tree that stood well
down the path was the crowning product of May. A more exquisite bloom
of pink and white against an emerald foil of tender young leaves could
not have existed even in Eden, nor could the breath of Eve have been
more sweet than the fragrance exhaled. The air was soft with
summer-like mildness, and the breeze that fanned Graham's cheek brought
no sense of chilliness. The sunset hour, with its spring beauty, the
song of innumerable birds, and especially the strains of a wood-thrush,
that, like a _prima donna_, trilled her melody, clear, sweet and
distinct above the feathered chorus, penetrated his soul with subtle
and delicious influences. A vague longing for something he had never
known or felt, for something that books had never taught, or
experimental science revealed, throbbed in his heart. He felt that his
life was incomplete, and a deeper sense of isolation came over him than
he had ever experienced in foreign cities where every face was strange.
Unconsciously he was passing under the most subtle and powerful of all
spells, that of spring, when the impulse to mate comes not to the birds
alone.
It so happened that he was in just the condition to succumb to this
influence. His mental tension was relaxed. He had sat down by the
wayside of life to rest awhile. He had found that there was no need
that he should bestir himself in money-getting, and his mind refused to
return immediately to the deep abstractions of science. It pleaded
weariness of the world and of the pros and cons of conflicting theories
and questions. He admitted the plea and said:--
"My mind _shall_ rest, and for a few days, possibly weeks, it shall be
passively receptive of just such influences as nature and circumstances
chance to bring to it. Who knows but that I may gain a deeper insight
into the hidden mysteries than if I were delving among the dusty tomes
of a university library? For some reason I feel to-night as if I could
look at that radiant, fragrant apple-tree and listen to the lullaby of
the birds forever. And yet their songs suggest a thought that awakens
an odd pain and dissatisfaction. Each one is singing to his mate. Each
one is giving expression to an overflowing fulness and completeness of
life; and never before have I felt my life so incomplete and isolated.
"I wish Hilland was here. He is such a true friend that his silence is
companionship, and his words never jar discordantly. It seems to me
that I miss him more to-night than I did during the first days after
his departure. It's odd that I should. I wonder if the friendship, the
love of a woman could be more to me than that of Hilland. What was that
paragraph from Emerson that once struck me so forcibly? My aunt is a
woman of solid reading; she must have Emerson. Yes, here in her
bookcase, meagre only in the number of volumes it contains, is what I
want," and he turned the leaves rapidly until his eyes lighted on the
following passage:--
"No man ever forgot the visitations of that power to his heart and
brain which created all things new; which was the dawn in him of music,
poetry, and art; which made the face of nature radiant with purple
light, the morning and the night varied enchantments; when a single
tone of one voice could make the heart bound, and the most trivial
circumstance associated with one form was put in the amber of memory;
when he became all eye when one was present, and all memory when one
was gone."
"Emerson never learned that at a university, German or otherwise. He
writes as if it were a common human experience, and yet I know no more
about it than of the sensations of a man who has lost an arm. I suppose
losing one's heart is much the same. As long as a man's limbs are
intact he is scarcely conscious of them, but when one is gone it
troubles him all the time, although it isn't there. Now when Hilland
left me I felt guilty at the ease with which I could forget him in the
library and laboratory. I did not become all memory. I knew he was my
best, my only friend; he is still; but he is not essential to my life.
Clearly, according to Emerson, I am as ignorant as a child of one of
the deepest experiences of life, and very probably had better remain
so, and yet the hour is playing strange tricks with my fancy."
Thus it may be perceived that Alford Graham was peculiarly open on this
deceitful May evening, which promised peace and security, to the
impending stroke of fate. Its harbinger first appeared in the form of a
white Spitz dog, barking vivaciously under the apple-tree, where a path
from a neighboring residence intersected the walk leading from Mrs.
Mayburn's cottage to the street. Evidently some one was playing with
the little creature, and was pretending to be kept at bay by its
belligerent attitude. Suddenly there was a rush and a flutter of white
draperies, and the dog retreated toward Graham, barking with still
greater excitement. Then the young man saw coming up the path with
quick, lithe | 2,079.85735 |
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Produced by David Widger
MY LITERARY PASSIONS
By William Dean Howells
1895
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL.
I. THE BOOKCASE AT HOME
II. GOLDSMITH
III. CERVANTES
IV. IRVING
V. FIRST FICTION AND DRAMA
VI. LONGFELLOW'S "SPANISH STUDENT"
VII. SCOTT
VIII. | 2,080.157183 |
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Produced by Neville Allen, Hagay Giller, Malcolm Farmer
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 147.
July 22, 1914.
CHARIVARIA.
Those who deny that Mr. LLOYD GEORGE is ruining land-owners will perhaps
be impressed by the following advertisement in _The Bazaar, Exchange and
Mart_:--
"To be sold, small holding, well stocked with fruit trees, good
double tenement house on good road and close to station, good outer
buildings. Price, Four Marks, Alton, Hunts."
The fact that the price should be translated into German looks
unpleasantly like an attempt to entrap an ignorant foreigner.
* * *
Meanwhile it looks as if the Socialist ideal of driving our landed
gentry into the workhouse is already being realised. The Abergavenny
Board of Guardians, we read, has decided to accept an offer by Lord
ABERGAVENNY to purchase the local workhouse for L3,000.
* * *
Three of the new peers have now chosen their titles. Sir EDGAR VINCENT
becomes Baron d'ABERNON; Major-General BROCKLEHURST, Baron RANKSBOROUGH,
and Sir EDWARD LYELL, Baron LYELL. Rather lazy of Sir EDWARD.
* * *
A lioness which escaped from a circus at Bourg-en-Brasse, France, the
other day, was killed, and a gendarme in the hunting party was shot in
the leg. As the lioness was not armed it is thought that the gendarme
must have been shot by one of the party.
* * *
It is frequently said that, if the Suffragettes were to drop their
militant tactics, the suffrage would be granted to-morrow. A Suffragette
now writes to stigmatise this as a hypocritical mis-statement. She
points out that recently the experiment was tried of allowing an entire
day to pass without an outrage, but not a single vote was granted.
* * *
Dr. HANS FRIEDENTHAL, a well-known Professor of Berlin University,
declares that, as a result of the higher education, women will in the
near future be totally bald, and will wear patriarchal beards and long
moustaches. They will then, no doubt, get the vote by threatening that,
unless their wishes are granted, they will kiss every man they meet at
sight.
* * *
Portsmouth Town Council has carried, by eleven votes to nine, a Labour
amendment refusing to place official guide-books to Pretoria in the
public library unless the nine deportees are allowed to return to South
Africa. General BOTHA could hardly have foreseen this result of his
action, and it will be interesting to see what happens now.
* * *
"POISON AFTER A DUCK'S EGG."
_Evening News._
Our cricketers would seem to be getting absurdly sensitive. This is
scarcely the way to brighten the game.
* * *
The Guildhall Art Gallery is to be rebuilt. Some of the pictures there
might be at the same time re-painted with advantage.
* * *
Apparently the Moody of the Moody-Manners Opera Company is gaining the
upper hand. This Company opened its London season with _The Dance of
Death_.
* * *
The appearance in Bond Street last week of a lady leading a little pig
instead of a dog as a pet is being widely discussed in canine circles,
though it has not yet been decided what action, if any, shall be taken.
In view of the fact that so many dogs are pigs it is possible that no
objection will be raised to one pig being a dog.
* * *
By the way, _The Daily Chronicle_ was not quite correct when, in
describing the recent "Dog Feast," in which the Shepherds Bush Indians
were alleged to have participated, it used the expression "pow-wow."
Owing to the action of the Canine Defence League a sheep was roasted and
not a pow-wow.
* * *
A motor-bus ran into a barber's shop in Gray's Inn Road last week, and
three customers had a close shave.
* * *
Some burglars recently blew open with gelignite the safe of a Holborn
jeweller containing L1,000 worth of gems, and, as the jewels are
missing, the police incline to the view that the object of the men must
have been robbery.
* * *
Asked by _The Express_ for a suggestion for a motto for the L.C.C., Mr.
H. DE VERE STACPOOLE sent the reply, "My word is sovereign." It is good
to know that this delightful writer can command an even higher rate of
pay than did Mr. RUDYARD KIPLING at the height of his popularity.
* * *
_The Daily Herald_ informs us that the Russian monk, RASPUTIN, "started
life as an illiterate peasant." But, we would ask, is there really
anything remarkable in this? We believe that the number of persons who
have been born literate is extremely small.
* * *
Says an advertisement in _T.P.'s Weekly_:--"Reader receives
guests--Leigh-on-Sea, facing sea, minute cliffs." It is honourable of
the advertiser to mention the minuteness of the cliffs. This is, we
fear, a characteristic of the Essex coast.
* * *
Among "Businesses for Sale" in _The Daily Chronicle_, we come across
what looks like an ugly example of military venality:--"GENERAL for
Sale, taking L16 a week; going cheap."
* * *
Finally, we have the pleasure to award first honorary prize in our
Pathetic Advertisement Competition to the following--also from _The
Daily Chronicle_:--
"Fish (Fried) and Chips for Sale, owing to wife's illness: only one
in neighbourhood."
We trust that the advertiser's addiction to monogamy is not confined to
the neighbourhood.
* * * * *
Illustration: WE UNDERSTAND THAT, IN VIEW OF THE POPULAR REVIVAL OF
BOXING, DR. STRAUSS HAS BEEN COMMISSIONED TO WRITE A GRAND OPERA ROUND
THE NOBLE ART. THE ABOVE REPRESENTS THE FINALE.
* * * * *
OXFORD IN TRANSITION.
INTERVIEW WITH A FAMOUS PORTER.
(_BY HAROLD BEGTHWAYT._)
Hearing from an undergraduate friend at Cardinal College of the
impending retirement of Mr. Chumbleton ("Old Chum"), the famous porter
of Salisbury Gate, I gladly seized the opportunity of running down to
Oxford to gain some fresh sidelights on the inner life of the
University. Cardinal College, unlike Balliol, Magdalen and New College,
has never shown itself responsive to the new spirit. There are probably
fewer Socialists in Peckover than in any other quad in Oxford. The old
feudal traditions, though somewhat mitigated, still survive. You still
hear the characteristic | 2,080.254226 |
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Produced by Joseph R. Hauser and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+-------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Notes: |
| The copy number in the original was unreadable. |
| Inconsistent spelling left as in the original. |
+-------------------------------------------------+
NOTES ON A TOUR THROUGH
THE WESTERN PART OF
THE STATE OF
NEW YORK
PHILADELPHIA
1829-30
Two Hundred Copies reprinted October, 1916, from The Ariel,
Philadelphia, 1829-30, for George P. Humphrey, Rochester, N. Y.
No.
[We have been politely favored with a manuscript journal of a very
intelligent traveller, kept during a tour through the most thriving
counties of the state of New York. We give an extract below, and shall
continue to furnish others until the whole shall have been published.
The journal will be found to contain the observations of a sound,
practical farmer, and a lover of the works of nature as well as those of
art. We recommend it to the attention of our friends in the country, and
to readers generally; believing it well worthy of an attentive
perusal.]
NOTES ON A TOUR THROUGH THE WESTERN PART OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK
_Extract No. 1_
_May 5th._--Left Bristol Pa., at eight o'clock, in the Steamboat
Trenton, for New York. About ninety passengers were on the way-bill, not
one of which I knew. Amongst our number was the celebrated Miss _Clara
Fisher_--famed for her aptitude in personating variety of character,
having wonderful powers of mimicry. She is certainly a very interesting
girl, and attracted much attention; but the gaze of strangers was
evidently very disagreeable to her, and she apparently coveted not much
scrutiny. Nothing occurred on our route worth notice. Having had a
pleasant passage, we arrived at New York about five o'clock.
I took my lodgings at Mrs. _Man's_ boarding-house, No. 61, Broadway.
After making some improvement in my appearance, such as brushing up my
hat and coat, and brushing off my beard, I issued forth into the
splendid avenue, where all the beauty and fashion of this gay city daily
promenade, to enjoy the pleasure of a walk. After walking and walking,
and walking further, until my feet exhibited an alarming regiment of
_blisters_, I wended my tedious way back to my lodgings--took a peep at
the medley of boarders that thronged the house--looked at (but did no
more than _taste_) the shaved dried beef and prepared bread-and-butter
on the supper-table--for the former was cut in true Vauxhall style, one
pound to cover half an acre, and the latter was only alarmed by
butter--sipped a dish of tea, and made my escape to bed, ruminating on
the horrors of an empty stomach tantalized by a New York supper.
_May 6th._--Got up early, fresh and active--had a good night's rest, in
spite of a slim supper--paid for that and my bed--_one dollar_--just
four times as much as the whole was worth. Pushed off to the North
America steamboat, and took passage to _Albany_--fare, two dollars. The
night boats, as they are called, that is, the boats which go in the
night, are some of them as low as one dollar, board included; but you
lose the pleasure which even common minds must feel when gazing on the
glorious scenery that fringes the borders of the mighty Hudson, and
which, to a stranger, fully makes up the difference. The North America
is a splendid and superior boat, far surpassing all others that ply upon
the Hudson, and ploughs her majestic course through the waves at the
rate of fifteen miles an hour. I should estimate the number of
passengers on board to-day at _three hundred_, all of whom had the
appearance of belonging to the higher order of society, as the
low-priced boats are favored with the rabble, who move about here so
often, and in such numbers, as to give those boats a good support. We
left the wharf about seven: and again I looked around me, but in vain,
to find in this dense crowd one familiar face with which I might claim
acquaintance. I was therefore forced to look on, without having a single
friendly bosom with which I might reciprocate those impressions of
pleasure which the occasion was so aptly fitted to inspire. The grand
Pallisadoes, the Highlands, and the abrupt sinuosities of this noble
river, were calculated to awaken in my mind a sense of the fraility of
my nature, and the greatness of a God. After passing Newburg, the
scenery became entirely new to me, as that place had heretofore been the
limit to my journeys. After leaving this spot, many very beautiful and
highly cultivated _seats_ are passed, on the east side of the river.
They rear their captivating forms in the very bosom of apparently
primeval nature, on some imposing point or eminence; and as the boat
swiftly passes, are alternately hid and opened to the view. As we
approached the Catskill mountains, which are much the highest I have
ever seen, the celebrated mountain house, called _Pine Orchard_, was
pointed out to me by a gentleman on board. It is located on one of the
most elevated points, and is distant twelve miles from the river. Its
appearance is very much that of a small white cloud in the midst of the
heavens, and is in the highest degree wild and romantic. But I came to
the conclusion, after gazing at it a considerable time, that the fatigue
of climbing to the summit, (more than 2,000 feet high,) would be
infinitely greater than the pleasure which its airy situation could
afford.
After leaving the city of _Hudson_, the country gradually sinks, on each
side, and appears in some places tolerably fertile--but I much prefer
looking at, to living on, such a soil.
We arrived at _Albany_ about eight in the evening: but, it being dark
and rainy, I left the boat immediately, and took up my abode at Welch's
Connecticut Coffee-House. As the rain kept me in doors, I went to roost
early, and got a comfortable night's rest.
_7th._--Got up with the sun, to allow time to survey the place, as my
stay was limited. The first, and in fact the only object worthy of
particular notice, (at least that I saw,) is the spacious Basin of the
great _Clinton_ Canal--improperly called _Erie_ Canal. This is formed by
a section of the river, taken therefrom by means of an extensive wharf
running parallel with the shore, about one hundred yards from the same,
and in length about three quarters of a mile, having a lock at the lower
end, to receive and let out vessels of considerable burden. This wharf,
if I may so call it, is about thirty yards wide, having extensive
store-houses built upon it, from one end to the other. Several bridges
are thrown across the Basin, opposite to some of the principal streets,
in order to facilitate the communication with the wharf. It is truly
astonishing to behold with what ease vessels may be loaded and unloaded.
Albany is certainly in a very thriving condition. But I did not see one
building that could be called a splendid edifice. Even the state Capitol
is nothing more than a plain, and not _very large_, but substantial
stone building. Yet its situation is very commanding, and embraces a
fine view of the greater portion of the city. There is a very pretty
representation of _Justice_, on the top of the cupola, holding a pair of
scales in her left hand, and a drawn sword in her right. The other
public buildings that may be thought conspicuous, are, the Academy,
Lancasterian School, and several churches with handsome steeples. The
beauty of the place is greatly lessened by the many old Dutch buildings,
with their gable ends fronting the streets. But it is much larger than I
had supposed, and upon a general view, is rather a handsome city than
otherwise. The Hudson at Albany is about as wide as the Delaware at
Trenton, but much deeper.
I had contemplated taking my passage at Albany, on board a canal boat;
but was dissuaded therefrom in consequence of the tediousness of the
passage, to _Schenectady_, having | 2,080.254362 |
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E-text prepared by Ted Garvin, Rosanna Yuen, and Project Gutenberg
Distributed Proofreaders
Under King Constantine
By Katrina Trask
Third Edition
1893
To My Husband.
_The following tales, which have no legendary warrant, are supposed to
belong to the time, lost in obscurity, immediately subsequent to King
Arthur's death; when, says Malory, in the closing chapter of LA MORT
D'ARTHURE, "Sir Constantine, which was Sir Cadors son of Cornwaile, was
chosen king of England; and hee was a full noble knight, and worshipfully
hee ruled this realme"_
SANPEUR.
The great King Constantine is at the hunt;
The brilliant cavalcade of knights and dames,
On palfreys and on chargers trapped in gold
And silver and red purple, ride in mirth
Along the winding way, by hill and tarn
And violet-sprinkled dell. Impatient hounds
Sniff the keen morning air, and startled birds
Rustle the foliage redolent with spring.
From time to time some courtier reins his steed
Beside the love-enkindling Gwendolaine,
Whose wayward moods do vary as the winds,--
Now wooing with her soft, seductive grace;
Now fascinating with her stately pride;
Anon, bewitching by her recklessness
Of wilful daring in some wild caprice
Which no one could anticipate or stay.
How fair she is to-day! How beautiful!
Her hunting-robe is bluer than the sky,--
Matching one phase of her great, changeful eyes,--
Clasped with twin falcons of unburnished gold,
The colour of her brown hair in the sun.
The white plumes, drooping from her hunting-cap,
Leave her alluring lips in tempting sight,
But hide the growing shadow in her eyes.
For she marks none of all the court to-day
Save Sir Sanpeur, the passing noble knight
Whose bearing doth bespeak heroic deeds,
There where he rides with the sweet maid Ettonne.
Sir Torm, the husband of fair Gwendolaine,
Is all unconscious of aught else beside
The outward seeming, 'tis enough for him
That she is gay and beautiful, and smiles.
He has a nature small and limited
By sight, and sense, and self, and his desires;
A heart as open as the day to all
That touches his quick impulse, when it costs
Him naught of sacrifice. The needy poor
Flock to his castle for the careless gift
Of falling dole, but his esquire is faint
From his exacting service, night and day
His Lady Gwendolaine is satiate
With costly gems, palfreys, and samite thick
With threads of gold and silver, but the sweet
Heart subtleties and fair observances
Are lost in the _of course_ of married life.
He sees, too quickly, does she fail to smile,
But never sees the shadow in her eyes
His hounds are beaten till they scarce draw breath,
And then caressed beyond the worth of hounds.
His vassals know not if, from day to day,
He will approve, or strike them with a curse.
His humours are the byword of the court,
And, were it not for his good-heartedness,
His prowess, and undaunted strength at arms,
Men would speak lightly of him in disdain;
He is so often in a stormy rage,
Or supplicating humour to atone,--
Too petty to repent in very truth,
Too light and yielding in repentance, when
His temper's force is spent, for dignity
Of truest knighthood. No one feels his faults
So quickly, with such flushing of regret
And shame, as Gwendolaine. But she is wife,
His honour is her own, and she would hide
From all the world, and even from herself,
His pettiness and narrowness of soul.
So she forgets, or doth pretend forget,
Where he has failed, save when he passes bounds;
Then her swift scorn--a piercing force he dreads--
Flashes upon him like a probing lance,
To silence merriment if it be coarse,
To hush his wrath when it is violent.
Though powerful to check, she ne'er could change
The underflow and current of their life.
In the first years, gone by, ere she had grown
A woman of the world, she had essayed
To stem the tide of shallow vanity,
To realise her girlhood's high ideal,
And make her home more reverent, and more fine.
Sir Torm had overborne her words with jest
And noisy laughter, vowing she would learn
Romance and sweet simplicity were well
For harper minstrel, singing in the hall,
But not for courtiers living in the world.
Once, when she faced the thought of motherhood,--
For some brief days of sweet expectancy
Never fulfilled for her,--she was aware
Of thirst for living water, and a dread
Of the light, shallow life she led, fell on her;
She went to Torm, and spoke, in broken words,
The unformed longing of her dawning soul.
He lightly laughed, filliped her ear, called her
"My Lady Abbess," "pretty saint," and then
Said, later, jesting, before all the court,
"Behold a lady too good for her lord!"
The blood swept up her cheeks to lose itself
In her hair's gold, then ebbed again to leave
Her paler than before. She stood in silent,
Momentary hate of Torm, all impotent.
He saw her pallor and her eyes down-dropt,
Came quickly, flung his arm around her, saying,
"God's faith, my girl, you do not mind a jest!
Where are the spirits you are wont to have?"
"My lord, they shall not fail you any more,"
She answered bitterly, and after that
Torm did not see her soul unveiled again.
Thenceforth she turned her strivings after truth
To winning outward charm the more complete,
And hid her inner self more deeply 'neath
The sparkling surface of her brilliant life.
To-day he wearies her with brutal jest
Upon the hunted boar, and calls her dull
That she laughs not as ever.
While Sanpeur
Was far upon a distant quest, all perilous,
She thought with secret longing of the hour
When once again together they should ride.
He has returned triumphant, having won
Fresh honours.
Now at last, the hunt has come,
The day is golden, and her beauty fair,--
And Sir Sanpeur is riding with Ettonne.
A sudden conflict wages in her heart
As she talks lightly to each courtier gay,
Jealous impatience that the Gwendolaine
Whom all men flatter, should be thwarted, fights
A tender yearning to defy all pride
And call him to her for one spoken word.
The world seems better when he talks with her,
No one has ever lifted her above
The empty nothings of a courtly life
As Sir Sanpeur, who makes both life and death
More grandly solemn, yet more simply clear.
In a steep curving of the road, he turns
To meet her smile, which deepens as he comes.
Sanpeur, bronzed by the eastern sun, is tall,
Straight as a javelin, in each noble line
His knighthood is revealed. Slighter than Torm,
Whose strength is in his size, but full as strong,
Sanpeur's unrivalled strength is in his sinew
His scarlet garb, deep furred with miniver,
Is broidered with the cross which leaves untold
The fame he won in lands of which it tells
Upon his breast he wears the silver dove,
The sacred Order of the Holy Ghost,
Which Gwendolaine once noted with the words,
"What famous honours you have won, my lord!"
And he had answered with all knightly grace,
"My Lady Gwendolaine, I seldom think
Of the high honour, though I greatly prize
This recognition, far beyond my worth;
My thought is ever what it signifieth.
It is my consecration I belong
To God the Father, and this is the sign
Of His most Holy Spirit, sent to us
By our ascended Saviour, Jesu Christ,
By Whom alone I live from day to day."
His quiet words, amid the laughing court,
Had startled her, as if a solemn peal
Of full cathedral music had rung clear
Above the jousting cry of "Halt and Ho!"
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OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND
By Howard Pyle
CONTENTS
I. The Dragon's House,
II. How the Baron Went Forth to Shear,
III. How the Baron Came Home Shorn,
IV. The White Cross on the Hill,
V. How Otto Dwelt at St. Michaelsburg,
VI. How Otto Lived in the Dragon's House,
VII. The Red Cock Crows on Drachenhausen,
VIII. In the House of the Dragon Scorner,
IX. How One-eyed Hans Came to Trutz-Drachen,
X. How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen,
XI. How Otto was Saved,
XII. A Ride for Life,
XIII. How Baron Conrad Held the Bridge,
XIV. How Otto Saw the Great Emperor,
FOREWORD.
Between the far away past history of the world, and that which lies near
to us; in the time when the wisdom of the ancient times was dead and
had passed away, and our own days of light had not yet come, there lay a
great black gulf in human history, a gulf of ignorance, of superstition,
of cruelty, and of wickedness.
That time we call the dark or middle ages.
Few records remain to us of that dreadful period in our world's history,
and we only know of it through broken and disjointed fragments that have
been handed down to us through the generations.
Yet, though the world's life then was so wicked and black, there yet
remained a few good men and women here and there (mostly in peaceful
and quiet monasteries, far from the thunder and the glare of the worlds
bloody battle), who knew the right and the truth and lived according to
what they knew; who preserved and tenderly cared for the truths that the
dear Christ taught, and lived and died for in Palestine so long ago.
This tale that I am about to tell is of a little boy who lived and
suffered in those dark middle ages; of how he saw both the good and the
bad of men, and of how, by gentleness and love and not by strife and
hatred, he came at last to stand above other men and to be looked up to
by all. And should you follow the story to the end, I hope you may find
it a pleasure, as I have done, to ramble through those dark ancient
castles, to lie with little Otto and Brother John in the high
belfry-tower, or to sit with them in the peaceful quiet of the sunny
old monastery garden, for, of all the story, I love best those early
peaceful years that little Otto spent in the dear old White Cross on the
Hill.
Poor little Otto's life was a stony and a thorny pathway, and it is well
for all of us nowadays that we walk it in fancy and not in truth.
I. The Dragon's House.
Up from the gray rocks, rising sheer and bold and bare, stood the walls
and towers of Castle Drachenhausen. A great gate-way, with a heavy
iron-pointed portcullis hanging suspended in the dim arch above, yawned
blackly upon the bascule or falling drawbridge that spanned a chasm
between the blank stone walls and the roadway that winding down the
steep rocky <DW72> to the little valley just beneath. There in the lap of
the hills around stood the wretched straw-thatched huts of the peasants
belonging to the castle--miserable serfs who, half timid, half fierce,
tilled their poor patches of ground, wrenching from the hard soil barely
enough to keep body and soul together. Among those vile hovels played
the little children like foxes about their dens, their wild, fierce eyes
peering out from under a mat of tangled yellow hair.
Beyond these squalid huts lay the rushing, foaming river, spanned by a
high, rude, stone bridge where the road from the castle crossed it, and
beyond the river stretched the great, black forest, within whose gloomy
depths the savage wild beasts made their lair, and where in winter time
the howling wolves coursed their flying prey across the moonlit snow and
under the net-work of the black shadows from the naked boughs above.
The watchman in the cold, windy bartizan or watch-tower that clung to
the gray walls above the castle gateway, looked from his narrow window,
where the wind piped and hummed, across the tree-tops that rolled in
endless billows of green, over hill and over valley to the blue and
distant <DW72> of the Keiserberg, where, on the mountain side, glimmered
far away the walls of Castle Trutz-Drachen.
Within the massive stone walls through which the gaping gateway led,
three great cheerless brick buildings, so forbidding that even the
yellow sunlight could not light them into brightness, looked down, with
row upon row of windows, upon three sides of the bleak, stone courtyard.
Back of and above them clustered a jumble of other buildings, tower and
turret, one high-peaked roof overtopping another.
The great house in the centre was the Baron's Hall, the part to the left
was called the Roderhausen; between the two stood a huge square pile,
rising dizzily up into the clear air high above the rest--the great
Melchior Tower.
At the top clustered a jumble of buildings hanging high aloft in the
windy space a crooked wooden belfry, a tall, narrow watch-tower, and a
rude wooden house that clung partly to the roof of the great tower and
partly to the walls.
From the chimney of this crazy hut a thin thread of smoke would now and
then rise into the air, for there were folk living far up in that empty,
airy desert, and oftentimes wild, uncouth little children were seen
playing on the edge of the dizzy height, or sitting with their bare
legs hanging down over the sheer depths, as they gazed below at what was
going on in the court-yard. There they sat, just as little children in
the town might sit upon their father's door-step; and as the sparrows
might fly around the feet of the little town children, so the circling
flocks of rooks and daws flew around the feet of these air-born
creatures.
It was Schwartz Carl and his wife and little ones who lived far up there
in the Melchior Tower, for it overlooked the top of the hill behind the
castle and so down into the valley upon the further side. There, day
after day, Schwartz Carl kept watch upon the gray road that ran like a
ribbon through the valley, from the rich town of Gruenstaldt to the rich
town of Staffenburgen, where passed merchant caravans from the one to
the other--for the lord of Drachenhausen was a robber baron.
Dong! Dong! The great alarm bell would suddenly ring out from the belfry
high up upon the Melchior Tower. Dong! Dong! Till the rooks and daws
whirled clamoring and screaming. Dong! Dong! Till the fierce wolf-hounds
in the rocky kennels behind the castle stables howled dismally in
answer. Dong! Dong!--Dong! Dong!
Then would follow a great noise and uproar and hurry in the castle
court-yard below; men shouting and calling to one another, the ringing
of armor, and the clatter of horses' hoofs upon the hard stone. With the
creaking and groaning of the windlass the iron-pointed portcullis would
be slowly raised, and with a clank and rattle and clash of iron chains
the drawbridge would fall crashing. Then over it would thunder horse and
man, clattering away down the winding, stony pathway, until the great
forest would swallow them, and they would be gone.
Then for a | 2,080.356204 |
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Proofreaders. HTML version by Al Haines.
CAMPS, QUARTERS AND CASUAL PLACES
BY ARCHIBALD FORBES, LL.D.
NOTE
My obligations for permission to incorporate some of the articles in
this volume are due to Messrs. George Routledge and Sons, Mr. James
Knowles of the _Nineteenth Century_, Mr. Percy Bunting of the
_Contemporary Review_, and the Proprietor of _McClure's Magazine_.
LONDON, _June_ 1896.
CONTENTS
1. MATRIMONY UNDER FIRE
2. REVERENCING THE GOLDEN FEET
3. GERMAN WAR PRAYERS
4. MISS PRIEST'S BRIDECAKE
5. A VERSION OF BALACLAVA
6. HOW I "SAVED FRANCE"
7. CHRISTMAS IN A CAVALRY REGIMENT
8. THE MYSTERY OF MONSIEUR REGNIER
9. RAILWAY LIZZ
10. MY NATIVE SALMON RIVER
11. THE CAWNPORE OF TO-DAY
12. BISMARCK BEFORE AND DURING THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR
13. THE INVERNESS "CHARACTER" FAIR
14. THE WARFARE OF THE FUTURE
15. GEORGE MARTELL'S BANDOBAST
16. THE LUCKNOW OF TO-DAY
17. THE MILITARY COURAGE OF ROYALTY
18. PARADE OF THE COMMISSIONAIRES
19. THE INNER HISTORY OF THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN
MATRIMONY UNDER FIRE
The interval between the declaration of the Franco-German war of
1870-71, and the "military promenade," at which the poor Prince
Imperial received his "baptism of fire," was a pleasant, lazy time at
Saarbruecken; to which pretty frontier town I had early betaken myself,
in the anticipation, which proved well founded, that the tide of war
would flow that way first. What a pity it is that all war cannot be
like this early phase of it, of which I speak! It was playing at
warfare, with just enough of the grim reality cropping up occasionally,
to give the zest which the reckless Frenchwoman declared was added to a
pleasure by its being also a sin. The officers of the
Hohenzollerns--our only infantry regiment in garrison--drank their beer
placidly under the lime-tree in the market-place, as their men smoked
drowsily, lying among the straw behind the stacked arms ready for use
at a moment's notice. The infantry patrol skirted the frontier line
every morning in the gray dawn, occasionally exchanging with little
result a few shots with the French outposts on the Spicheren or down in
the valley bounded by the Schoenecken wood. The Uhlans, their piebald
lance-pennants fluttering in the wind, cantered leisurely round the
crests of the little knolls which formed the vedette posts, despising
mightily the straggling chassepot bullets which were pitched at them
from time to time in a desultory way; but which, desultory as they
were, now and then brought lance-pennant and its bearer to the
ground--an occurrence invariably followed by a little spurt of lively
hostility.
I had my quarters at the Rheinischer Hof, a right comfortable hotel on
the St. Johann side of the Saar, where most of the Hohenzollern
officers frequented the _table d'hote_ and where quaint little Max, the
drollest imp of a waiter imaginable, and pretty Frauelein Sophie the
landlord's niece, did all that in them lay to contribute to the
pleasantness and comfort of the house. Not a few pleasant evenings did
I spend at the table of the long dining-room, with the close-cropped
red head of silent and genial Hauptmann von Krehl looming large over
the great ice-pail, with its _chevaux de frise_ of long-necked
Niersteiner bottles--the worthy Hauptmann supported by blithe
Lieutenant von Klipphausen, ever ready with the _Wacht am Rhein_;
quaint Dr. Diestelkamp, brimful of recollections of "six-and-sixty" and
as ready to amputate your leg as to crack a joke or clink a glass; gay
young Adjutant von Zuelow--he who one day brought in a prisoner from the
foreposts a red-legged Frenchman across the pommel of his saddle; and
many other good fellows, over most of whom the turf of the Spicheren,
or the brown earth of the Gravelotte plain, now lies lightly.
But although the Rheinischer Hof associates itself in my mind with many
memories, half-pleasant, half-sad, it was not the most accustomed haunt
of the casuals in Saarbruecken, including myself. Of the waifs and
strays which the war had drifted down to the pretty frontier town the
great rendezvous was the Hotel Hagen, at the bend of the turn leading
from the bridge up to the railway station. The Hagen was a
free-and-easy place compared with the Rheinischer, and among its
inmates there was no one who could sing a better song than manly
George--type of the Briton at whom foreigners stare--who, ignorant of a
word of their language, wholly unprovided with any authorisation save
the passport signed "Salisbury," and having not quite so much business
at the seat of war as he might have at the bottom of a coal-mine,
gravitates into danger with inevitable certainty, and stumbles through
all manner of difficulties and bothers by reason of a serene
good-humour that nothing can ruffle and a cool resolution before which
every obstacle fades away. Was there ever a more compositely poly | 2,080.358397 |
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Produced by Keith G Richardson
_Submission to Divine Providence in the Death of Children, recommended
and inforced,_
IN A
SERMON
PREACHED at
_NORTHAMPTON_,
On the DEATH
Of a very amiable and hopeful CHILD, about Five Years old.
_Published out of Compassion to mourning_ PARENTS.
By _P. DODDRIDGE_, D. D.
_Neve Liturarum pudeat; qui viderit illas,_
_De Lachrymis factas sentiat esse meis._ OVID.
The SECOND EDITION.
_LONDON_,
Printed for R. HETT, at the _Bible_ and _Crown_ in the _Poultry_. MDCCXL.
THE PREFACE.
_THE Discourse which I now offer to the Publick was drawn up on a very
sorrowful Occasion; the Death of a most desirable Child, who was
formed in such a Correspondence to my own Relish and Temper, as to be
able to give me a Degree of Delight, and consequently of Distress,
which I did not before think it possible I could have received from a
little Creature who had not quite compleated her Fifth Year._
_Since the Sermon was preached, it has pleased_ GOD _to make the like
Breaches on the Families of several of my Friends; and, with Regard to
some of them, the Affliction hath been attended with Circumstances of
yet sorer Aggravation. Tho' several of them are removed to a
considerable Distance from me, and from each other I have born their
Afflictions upon my Heart with cordial Sympathy; and it is with a
particular Desire of serving them, that I have undertaken the sad Task
of reviewing and transcribing these Papers; which may almost be called
the Minutes of my own Sighs and Tears, over the poor Remains of my
eldest and (of this Kind) dearest Hope, when they were not as yet_
buried out of my Sight.
_They are, indeed, full of Affection, and to be sure some may think
they are too full of it: But let them consider the Subject, and the
Circumstances, and surely they will pardon it. I apprehend, I could
not have treated such a Subject coldly, had I writ upon it many years
ago, when I was untaught in the School of Affliction, and knew nothing
of such a Calamity as this, but by Speculation or Report: How much
less could I do it, when_ GOD _had touched me in so tender a Part, and
(to allude to a celebrated ancient Story,) called me out to appear on
a publick Stage, as with an Urn in my Hand, which contained the Ashes
of my own Child!_
_In such a sad Situation Parents, at least, will forgive the Tears of
a Parent, and those Meltings of Soul which overflow in the following
Pages. I have not attempted to run thro' the Common place of_
immoderate Grief, _but have only selected a few obvious Thoughts which
I found peculiarly suitable to myself; and, I bless_ GOD, _I can truly
say, they gave me a solid and substantial Relief, under a Shock of
Sorrow, which would otherwise have broken my Spirits._
_On my own Experience, therefore, I would recommend them to others, in
the like Condition, And let me intreat my Friends and Fellow-Sufferers
to remember, that it is not a low Degree of Submission to the Divine
Will, which is called for in the ensuing Discourse. It is
comparatively an easy Thing to behave with external Decency, to
refrain from bold Censures and outragious Complaints, or to speak in
the outward Language of Resignation. But it is not, so easy to get rid
of every repining Thought, and to forbear taking it, in some Degree at
least, unkindly, that the_ GOD _whom we love and serve, in whose
Friendship we have long trusted and rejoiced, should act what, to
Sense, seems so unfriendly a Part: That he should take away a Child;
and if a Child,_ that Child; _and if that Child, at that Age; and if
at that Age, with this or that particular Circumstance, which seems
the very Contrivance of Providence to add double Anguish to the Wound;
and all this, when he could so easily have recalled it; when we know
him to have done it for so many others; when we so earnestly desired
it; when we sought it with such Importunity, and yet, as we imagine,
with so much Submission too:--That, notwithstanding all this; he
should tear it away with an inexorable Hand, and leave us, it may be
for a while, under the Load, without any extraordinary Comforts and
Supports, to balance so grievous a Tryal.--In these Circumstances, not
only to justify, but to glorify_ GOD _in all,--chearfully to subscribe
to his Will,--cordially to approve it as merciful and gracious,--so as
to be able to say, as the pious and excellent Archbishop of _Cambray_
did, when his Royal Pupil, and the Hopes of a Nation were taken
away_[+], "_If there needed no more than to move a Straw to bring him
to Life again, I would not do it, since the Divine Pleasure is
otherwise".--This, this is a difficult Lesson indeed; a Triumph of
Christian Faith and Love, which I fear many of us are yet to learn._
_But let us follow after it, and watch against the first Rising of a
contrary Temper, as most injurious to_ GOD, _and prejudicial to
ourselves. To preserve us against it, let us review the Considerations
now to be proposed, as what we are to digest into our Hearts, and work
into our Thoughts and our Passions. And I would hope, that if we do in
good earnest make the Attempt, we shall find this Discourse a cooling
and sweetening Medicine, which may allay that inward Heat and
Sharpness, with which, in a Case like ours, the Heart is often
inflamed and corroded. I commend it, such as it is, to the Blessing of
the great Physician, and could wish the Reader to make up its many
Deficiencies, by Mr._ Flavel's Token for Mourners, _and Dr._
Grosvenor's Mourner; _to which, if it suit his Relish, he may please
to add Sir_ William Temple's Essay on the Excess of Grief: _Three
Tracts which, in their very different Strains and Styles, I cannot but
look upon as in the Number of the best which our Language, or,
perhaps, any other, has produced upon this Subject._
_As for this little Piece of mine, I question not, but, like the
Generality of single Sermons, it will soon be worn out and forgot. But
in the mean time, I would humbly hope, that some tender Parent, whom
Providence has joined with me in sad Similitude of Grief, may find
some Consolation from it, while sitting by the Coffin of a beloved
Child, or mourning over its Grave. And I particularly hope it, with
Regard to those dear and valuable Friends, whose Sorrows, on the like
Occasion, have lately been added to my own. I desire that, tho' they
be not expressly named, they would please to consider this Sermon as
most affectionately and respectfully_ dedicated to them; _and would,
in Return, give me a Share in their Prayers, that all the Vicissitudes
of Life may concur to quicken me in the Duties of it, and to ripen me
for that blessed World, where I hope many of those dear Delights,
which are now withering around us, will spring up in fairer and more
durable Forms._ Amen.
Northampton,
_Jan._ 31, 1736-7.
POSTSCRIPT.
_I could easily shew, with how much Propriety I have called the dear
Deceased_ an amiable and hopeful Child, _by a great many little
Stories, which Parents would perhaps read with Pleasure, and Children
might hear with some Improvement: Yet as I cannot be sure that no
others may happen to read the Discourse, I dare not trust my Pen and
my Heart, on so delicate a Subject. One Circumstance I will however
venture to mention, (as I see here is a Blank Page left,) which may
indeed be consider'd as a Specimen of many others. As she was a great
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Produced by A. Elizabeth Warren
The House of Life
by
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Part I. YOUTH AND CHANGE
INTRODUCTORY SONNET
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,--
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
Of its own arduous fulness reverent:
Carve it in ivory or in | 2,080.756002 |
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E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 36320-h.htm or 36320-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36320/36320-h/36320-h.htm)
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(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36320/36320-h.zip)
[Illustration: WHEN THE TRAIN STOPPED AT THE PALM BEACH STATION, THERE
WAS THE COMET WAITING FOR THEM.--Page 14.]
THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE
by
KATHERINE STOKES
Author of "The Motor Maids' School Days," etc.
M. A. Donohue & Company
Chicago--New York
Copyright, 1911,
by
Hurst & Company
Made in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. To the Sunny South 5
II. Making New Acquaintances 19
III. Timothy's Drowning 37
IV. A Race and What Came of It 50
V. The Two Edwards 64
VI. The Gray Motor Car 79
VII. The Coward 94
VIII. Mr. Duffy Gives a Party 111
IX. The Bullfrog and the Pollywog 128
X. The Song of the Motor 138
XI. The Orange Grove 150
XII. An Unwished Wish 161
XIII. In the Deep Woods 173
XIV. The Mocking Bird 186
XV. Out of the Wilderness 196
XVI. Mrs. L'Estrange 208
XVII. A Morning Call 220
XVIII. It's an Ill Wind 234
XIX. A Passage at Arms 246
XX. The Hand of Destiny 258
XXI. Picnicking Under the Pines 270
XXII. The Last of the House of Troubles 280
XXIII. Explanations 291
XXIV. So Endeth the Second Lesson 298
THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE
CHAPTER I.--TO THE SUNNY SOUTH.
The Atlantic Ocean and the breadth of Europe including half of Russia
lay between Mr. Duncan Campbell and his daughter, Wilhelmina. But that
did not prevent Mr. Campbell from thinking of numerous delightful
surprises for Billie and her three friends in West Haven.
Sometimes it was a mere scrawl of a note hastily written at some small
way station, saying: "Here's a check for my Billie-girl. Treat your
friends to ice-cream sodas and take 'em to the theater. Don't forget
your old Dad."
Sometimes the surprise took the form of queer foreign-looking packages
addressed to "the Misses Campbell, Butler, Brown and Price," containing
strange articles made by the peasants in the far-away land. He sent them
each a Cossack costume with high red boots and red sashes. But some
three weeks before the Easter holidays came the best surprise of all.
"I believe the Comet needs a change of air," wrote Mr. Campbell. "A fine
automobile must have as careful handling as a thoroughbred horse, or,
for that matter, a thoroughbred young lady. What does my Billie-girl say
to an Easter trip to Florida with Cousin Helen as guardian angel and Nan
and Nell and Moll for company and the Comet for just his own sweet
self?"
Mr. Campbell, who received long, intimate letters from his daughter once
a week, felt that he knew the girls almost as well as she did, and he
would call them by abbreviated, pet names in spite of Billie's
remonstrances.
"It so happens," the letter continued, "that my old friend, Ignatius
Donahue, who holds the small, unimportant, poorly-paid position of
vice-president of an insignificant railroad, not knowing that I was
digging trenches in Russia, has offered me the use of his private car,
including kitchen stove, chef and other necessities. I have answered
that I accept the invitation, not for self, but for daughter and friends
and Comet; which latter must have free transportation on first-class
fast-going freight, or he is no friend of mine. You will be hearing from
Ignatius now pretty soon. Your old dad will be answerable for all other
expenses, including hotel and-so-forth and if the and-so-forth is bigger
than the hotel bill, he'll never even chirp. Life is short and time is
fleeting and young girls must go South in the winter when they have a
chance."
So, that is how the Motor Maids happened to be the four busiest young
women in West Haven--what with those abominable High School examinations
which always came about this time, and the getting together of a Palm
Beach wardrobe.
And that is also how, one cold wet day at the end of March, they found
themselves lolling in big comfortable chairs in Mr. Donahue's private
car while the train whizzed southward.
It had been a bustle and a rush at the last moment and they were glad to
leave West Haven, which was a dreary, misty little place at that time of
the year.
Miss Campbell leaned back in her wicker chair and regarded her four
charges proudly. How neat they looked in their pretty traveling suits
and new spring hats!
"I am so glad they are young girls and not young ladies," she was
thinking, when her meditations were interrupted by Sam, the chef
and porter combined, whose arms were laden with packages.
"Why, what are you bringing us, Sam?" asked the little lady with some
curiosity.
"With Mr. Donahue's compliments, ma'am, and he hopes the ladies won't
git hungry and bored on the journey," replied Sam, depositing the
packages on a chair and drawing it up within Miss Campbell's reach.
"Dear me, children," she exclaimed excitedly, "look what this nice man
has sent us. I feel like a girl again myself. A beautiful bunch of
violets apiece----"
"And a big box of candy," exclaimed Nancy Brown.
"And all the latest magazines," added Billie Campbell, laughing.
"What a dear he is," finished Elinor Butler, fastening on her violets
with a long lavender pin; while Mary Price gave her own violets a
passionate little squeeze.
"I hopes," went on Sam, shifting from one foot to the other, "I hopes
the ladies ain't goin' to eat so much candy they won't have no appetite
for they dinner. We g'wine have spring chicken to-night, an' fresh green
peas an' new asparagrass, an' strawbe'ies. I'd be mighty sorry if de
ladies don' leave no space for my dinner. Marse Donahue he don' kill de
fatted ca'f fo' dis here 'casion."
"Sam, we'll close the candy box this minute," said Miss Campbell. "And
you needn't bring us any tea this afternoon. You need feel no uneasiness
about your spring chickens and your new peas. I shall write to Mr.
Donahue myself as soon as I get to Palm Beach and thank him for his
kindness."
"He's a very nice gemman, he is that," observed Sam.
"Is he a young man, Sam?" asked Nancy, with young girl curiosity.
"He ain't to say young or old, Missy. He don' took his stan' on the
dividin' line an' thar he stan'."
"How long has he been standing there, Sam?" put in Elinor.
"I knowed the gemman twenty years an' he ain't never stepped off yit."
The private car rang with their cheerful laughter.
"He must be a wonderful man," said Miss Campbell. "I wish he would teach
me his secret."
"His secret is, ma'am, he ain't never got married and had no fambly
troubles to age his countenance," answered Sam.
"But," cried Miss Campbell, "I've never been married either, and I'm
white-haired and infirm."
"You infirm, ma'am! You de youngest one in de lot," answered the <DW52>
man, turning his frankly admiring gaze on the pretty little lady as he
backed down the car, grinning, and disappeared in his own quarters.
"You see, Cousin," said Billie, patting Miss Campbell's cheek, "you must
never try to make people believe again that you are old. You are a
pretty young lady gone gray before her time."
It was plain that Mr. Ignatius Donahue was very much pleased with the
arrangements he had made with his old friend, Duncan Campbell. All along
the journey he had fresh surprises for his five guests. At one place
came a big basket of fruit; at another station a <DW52> woman climbed
on the train and presented each of them with a splendid magnolia in full
bloom, that filled the car with its fragrance.
"With Mr. Donahue's compliments, ma'am; an' he says he hopes the ladies
is enjoyin' they selves," she added as she gave Miss Campbell the
largest blossom in the bunch.
"Dear, dear," cried Miss Campbell. "One would think Mr. Donahue were
taking this journey with us. He is so attentive. Is he anywhere around
here?"
"No, ma'am," interrupted Sam, with a warning look at the <DW52> woman.
"Marse Donahue, he jes' give orders and specs 'em to be kerried out like
he says."
"I feel as if Mr. Donahue were a sort of spirit always hovering near
us," said Billie, when the two <DW52> people had disappeared, "a kind
of guardian angel. I wish papa had told us something about him."
"A very substantial spirit," observed Miss Campbell, "showering upon us
all these gifts of fruits and flowers and candy."
"What does Mr. Donahue look like, Sam," Nancy asked the <DW52> man
later. "Is he tall and thin?"
"No, ma'am; he ain't what you might call tall. An' he ain't short
neither.
"Medium, then?"
"Not jes' exactly mejum, neither, ma'am."
"Go way, Sam. You don't know what he is. I don't believe you ever saw
Mr. Donahue."
"Ain't I don' tol' you I knowed Marse Donahue twenty years? But I
couldn't paint no picture of him, Missy."
"What color is his hair, Sam?" asked Mary.
"It ain't white an' it ain't black, neither, Missy."
Miss Campbell herself joined in the laughter which Sam's reply raised
and they asked no more questions about Mr. Donahue's appearance. But the
magnolias were not the last token from their mysterious host, who seemed
to have arranged everything with the greatest care and forethought. When
the train stopped at the Palm Beach station, there was the Comet waiting
for them like a faithful steed. The red motor had been shipped nearly a
week before, and the sight of his cheerful face was like meeting an old
friend.
"Sam, you just give Mr. Donahue _my_ compliments," exclaimed Billie,
pat | 2,080.756176 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
[Illustration: _Robert Emmet._
AET XXV.]
ROBERT EMMET
A SURVEY OF HIS REBELLION
AND OF HIS ROMANCE
BY
LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY
WITH A PORTRAIT
OF
ROBERT EMMET
LONDON
DAVID NUTT, 57-59 LONG ACRE
1904
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press
_To_
LIONEL JOHNSON
_in the Land of the Living to remind him of
old thoughts and of things once dear_
PREFATORY NOTE
THE following unscientific monograph, a sort of little historical
descant, is founded upon all the accurate known literature of the
subject, and also largely on the Hardwicke MSS. These, in so far as
they relate to Emmet, the writer was first to consult and have copied,
last winter, before they were catalogued. But while these sheets were
in press, several interesting fragments from the MSS. appeared in
the _Cornhill Magazine_ for September, 1903, thus forestalling their
present use. This discovery will condone the writer’s innocent claim,
made on page 60, of printing the two letters there as unpublished
matter.
The portrait is after Brocas’s hurried court-room sketch, made the day
before the execution. The original print is in the Joly Collection of
the National Library of Ireland. The head is too sharp and narrow, and
yet it bears a marked resemblance, far exceeding that of either of the
other portraits, to some of Robert Emmet’s collateral descendants. On
such good _à posteriori_ evidence it was chosen.
Oxford, _Dec. 9, 1903_.
ROBERT EMMET
A SURVEY OF HIS REBELLION AND OF HIS ROMANCE
THE four who lived to grow up of the seventeen children born to
Robert Emmet, M.D., of Cork, later of Dublin, and Elizabeth Mason,
his wife, were all, in their way, persons of genius. The Emmets
were of Anglo-Norman stock, Protestants, settled for centuries in
Ireland. The Masons, of like English origin, had merged it in repeated
alliances with women of Kerry, where the Dane, the Norman, and later
invaders from nearer quarters had never settled down to perturb the
ancient Celtic social stream. Dr. Emmet was a man of clear brain
and incorruptible honour. The mother of his children, to judge by
her letters, many of which have been privately printed, must have
been an exquisite being, high-minded, religious, loving, humorous,
wise. Her eldest surviving son, Christopher Temple Emmet, was named
for his two paternal grandparents, Christopher Emmet of Tipperary
and Rebecca Temple, great-great-granddaughter of the first Baronet
Temple of Stowe, in Buckinghamshire. The mention of that prolific,
wide-branching, and extraordinary family of Temple as forebears of the
younger Emmets is like a sharply accented note in a musical measure.
It has never been played for what it is worth; no annalist has tracked
certain Emmet qualities to this perfectly obvious ancestral source.
The Temples had not only, in this case, the bygone responsibility to
bear, for in a marked manner they kept on influencing their Emmet
contemporaries, as in one continuous mood thought engenders thought.
Says Mr. James Hannay: “The distinctive ηθος of the Temples has been
a union of more than usual of the kind of talent which makes men of
letters, with more than usual of the kind of talent which makes men
of affairs.” The Emmets, too, shared the “distinctive ηθος” in the
highest degree. Added to the restless two-winged intelligence, they
had the heightened soberness, the moral elevation, which formed no
separate inheritance. The Temples were, and are, a race of subtle but
somewhat austere imagination, strongly inclined to republicanism, and
to that individualism which is the norm of it. The Temple influence in
eighteenth-century Ireland was, obliquely, the American influence: a
new and heady draught at that time, a “draught of intellectual day.” If
we seek for those unseen agencies which are so much more operative than
mere descent, we cover a good deal of ground in remembering that Robert
Emmet the patriot came of the same blood as Sidney’s friend, Cromwell’s
chaplain, and Dorothy Osborne’s leal and philosophic husband. And he
shared not only the Temple idiosyncrasy, but, unlike his remarkable
brothers, the thin, dark, aquiline Temple face.
Rebecca Temple, only daughter of Thomas, a baronet’s son, married
Christopher Emmet in 1727, brought the dynastic names, Robert and
Thomas, into the Emmet family, and lived in the house of her son, the
Dublin physician, until her death in 1774, when her grandchildren,
Temple and Thomas Addis, were aged thirteen and ten, Robert being
yet unborn. Her protracted life and genial character would have
strengthened the relations, always close, with the Temple kin. Her
brother Robert had gone in his youth from Ireland to Boston, where
his father was long resident; and there he married a Temple cousin.
This Captain Robert Temple died on April 13, 1754, “at his seat, Ten
Hills, at Boston, in New England.” His three sons, the eldest of whom,
succeeding his great-grandfather, became afterwards Sir John Temple,
eighth Baronet of Stowe, all settled in New England and married
daughters of the Bowdoin, Shirley, and Whipple families—good wives
and clever women. John Temple had been “a thorough Whig all through
the Revolution,” and had suffered magnanimously for it. He had to
forfeit office, vogue, and money; and little anticipating his then
most improbable chances of a rise in the world, he forfeited all these
with dogged cheerfulness, in the hour when he could least afford to do
so. The latter-day Winthrops of the Republic are directly descended
from him, and the late Marquis of Dufferin and Ava from his brother.
A certain victorious free spirit, an intellectual fire, whimsical and
masterful, has touched the whole race of untamable Temples, and the
Emmets, the very flower of that race. Love of liberty was, in both
Robert Emmet and in Thomas Addis Emmet, no isolated phenomenon, but
their strengthened and applied inheritance. Captain Robert Temple’s
second son, Robert, came back with his wife, Harriet Shirley, after
the Declaration of Independence, to Allentown, Co. Dublin. His widow
eventually received indemnification for the loss of their transatlantic
estates. It is thus proved that Robert Temple was a loyalist to some
appreciable degree. Earlier and later, however, he did considerable
thinking, cherished liberal principles, and had much to say of the
rights of man and other large theses to his namesake first cousin,
Robert Emmet, M.D., with whom he lived for eighteen months after his
return. This community of ideas was further cemented by the marriage
of Anne Western Temple, Robert Temple’s daughter, to Dr. Emmet’s
eldest son, Temple Emmet. Dr. Emmet was faithful to the unpopular
convictions which he found himself sharing in increased degree with his
cousin. Up to 1783 he was always voluntarily abandoning one position
of eminence after another, as he came to dissent from English rule in
Ireland. He held among other offices that of State Physician; and from
a bland condemnatory notice of his youngest son in _The Gentleman’s
Magazine_ for October 1803, we learn that he was also physician to
the Lord-Lieutenant’s household. It is clear, then, that he also began
his career as a trusted Conservative. But as his opinions changed,
he gave up, Temple-like and Emmet-like, every position and emolument
inconsistent with them; when the ’98 broke out he had even ceased to
practise his profession. He and his wife and their children felt alike
in these matters so adversely and intimately affecting their chances
of worldly success. The boys and the girl were brought up to think
first of Ireland and her needs. An amicable satirist and distinguished
acquaintance was wont facetiously to report Dr. Emmet’s administration
of what the visitor named “the morning draught” to his little ones:
“Well, Temple, what are you ready to do for your country? Would you
kill your sister? Would you kill me?” For after this perilous early
Roman pattern the catechism ran. Even if only a beloved joke, it would
have been enough to seal the young Emmets for fanaticism, had not their
good angels intervened. As it turned out, they were all of a singularly
judicial cast. The only daughter, Mary Anne, had what used to be
called, by way of adequate eulogy, a “masculine understanding,” and
wrote pertinently and well. Her husband was the celebrated barrister
and devoted Irishman, Robert Holmes. He was the true friend and adviser
of the whole Emmet family, and survived his wife, who died during his
imprisonment in 1804, for five-and-fifty years. Of Dr. Emmet’s three
sons, Temple, Thomas Addis, and Robert, the former had an almost
incomparably high repute for “every virtue, every grace,” to quote
Landor’s mourning line for another. It is no disparagement to him to
say that this was partly owing to the pathos of so short a career,
and to the fact that he died ten years before the great Insurrection,
twelve before the Union; seeming to belong to a prior order of things,
it was the easier to praise the Emmet who did not live long enough to
get into trouble, at the expense of the Emmets who did.
Temple Emmet, with his beautiful thought-burdened head, a little like
the young Burke’s, passed by like a wonderful apparition in his day.
His success at Trinity College was complete; it is said the examiners
found their usual maximum of commendation, _Valde bene_, unequal to
the occasion, and had a special _O quam bene!_ given to him with his
degree. This has a sort of historic parallel in the incident at Wadham
College, Oxford, just a century before, when Clarendon, Lord Chancellor
of the University, set a kiss for eulogy upon the boyish cheek of John
Wilmot, Master of Arts. Again serving as his own precedent, Temple
Emmet became King’s Counsel at twenty-five. Two years later he was
in his grave, whither his young wife quickly followed him. All his
contemporaries qualified to appraise his worth, deplored him beyond
common measure. Said the great Grattan, long after: “Temple Emmet,
before he came to the Bar, knew more law than any of the judges on
the Bench; and if he had been placed on one side and the whole Bench
opposed to him, he could have been examined against them, and would
have surpassed them all; he would have answered better both in law and
divinity than any judge or bishop in the land.” His premature death
called his next brother from the University of Glasgow, where he had
just graduated in medicine, to the profession of the law.
The Emmet name was not destined to rise like a star where it had
fallen, for bitter times were drawing nigh, and his own generosity and
integrity were to bring Thomas Addis Emmet into fatal difficulties.
With a great number of other zealous spirits, he flung himself with
all his force of protest against the legalised iniquities destroying
Ireland. Examined before the secret committee of the House of Lords,
August 10, 1798, the young man, then as always quietly intrepid, let
fall brave prophetic words. Asked if he had been an United Irishman,
he righted the tense in answering: “My Lords, I am one”; then he
continued: “Give me leave to tell you, my Lords, that if the Government
of this country be not regulated so that the control may be wholly
Irish, and that the commercial arrangements between the two countries
be not put upon a footing of perfect equality, the connection [with
England] cannot last.” Lord Glentworth said: “Then your intention was
to destroy the Church?” Mr. Emmet replied: “No, my Lord, my intention
never was to destroy the Church. My wish decidedly was to overturn the
Establishment.” Here Lord Dillon interrupted: “I understand you. And
have it as it is in France?” “As it is in America, my Lords.” When the
chance for self-expatriation came, when “to retract was impossible, to
proceed was death,” Thomas Addis Emmet followed the ancestral trail,
and founded a new family in his approved America. The only one of
his circle spared to continue the Emmet name, he came to flower sadly
enough, because his hopes were broken, on what was not to him alien
soil. Everyone knows the rest: how, admitted to the New York Bar by
suspension of rules, without probation, he died in all men’s honour, in
1827, Attorney-General of the State.
Robert Emmet was even surer of an illustrious career. Alas! There is
no documentary proof forthcoming for it as yet, but it is painfully
probable that his little afterglow of a rebellion was long fostered,
for reasons of their own, by great statesmen, and that their secret
knowledge of it arose from Irish bad faith; that, in short, he was let
dream his dream until it suited others to close the toils about him.
The two or three highest in authority in Dublin, Lord Hardwicke chief
among them, were kept ignorant as himself. Emmet was really victim and
martyr. But to die prodigally at twenty-five, and to be enshrined with
unwithered and unique passion in Irish hearts; to go down prematurely
in dust and blood, and yet to be understood, felt, seen, for ever, in
the sphere where “only the great things last,” is perhaps as enviable
a privilege as young men often attain. His is one of several historic
instances in which those who have wrought little else seem to have
wrought an exquisite and quite enduring image of themselves in human
tradition. With none of the celebrities of his own nation can he in
point of actual service, compare; but every one of them, whether known
to ancient folk-lore or to the printed annals of yesterday, is less
of a living legend with Thierry’s “long-memoried people,” than “the
youngest and last of the United Irishmen,” “the child of the heart of
Ireland.” A knot of peasants gathered around a peat fire in the long
evenings, pipe in hand, are the busy hereditary factors of apocryphal
tales beginning “Once Robert Emmet (God love him),” &c.; and a certain
coloured print, very green as to raiment, very melodramatic as to
gesture, hangs to-day in the best room of their every cabin, and stands
to them for all that was of old, and is not, and still should be.
He was born March 4, 1778, in his father’s house in St. Stephen Green
West, Dublin, now numbered 124-125. As a boy he was active out of
doors, yet full of insatiable interest in books, and developed early
his charming talent for drawing and modelling. He was always rather
grave than gay; but the best proof, if any were needed, that he had
nothing of the prig in him, is that he was a favourite at school;
the potential Great Man, in fact, to whom the others looked up. His
one serious early illness was small-pox, which left his complexion
slightly roughened. He entered Trinity College, in his native city,
at fifteen. Either at this time, or just before, occurred an incident
so characteristic as to be worth recording, for it illustrates both
his power of mental concentration, and his still courage in facing
the untoward haps of life alone. Like Shelley, he had a youthful
fascination for chemistry. He had been dabbling with corrosive
sublimate, not long before bedtime. Instead of going upstairs, he sat
down, later, to figure out an allotted algebraic problem which, by way
of whetting adventurous spirits, the author of the book in question
acknowledged to be extremely difficult. Poring earnestly over the
page, the boy fell to biting his nails. He instantly tasted poison,
and pain and fear rushed on him. Without rousing a single person from
sleep, he ran to the library, got down his father’s encyclopædia,
turned to the article he needed, and learned that his antidote was
chalk and water; then he went in the dark to the coach-house where
he had seen chalk used, got it, mixed and drank it, and returned to
his interrupted task. His tutor could not fail to notice the agonised
little face at breakfast. Robert confessed the mischance, and that he
had lain perforce awake all night; but he added, modestly, that he had
mastered the problem. One of Plutarch’s heroes, at that age, could
hardly have done better. The antique world, with its heroic simpleness,
was indeed Robert Emmet’s own ground. At Trinity he earned, without
effort, a golden reputation, partly due to his scientific scholarship,
partly to his goodness, partly, again, to his possession of a faculty
of animated fluent speech, a faculty dear to the Irish, as to every
primitive people. He had a presence noticeably sweet and winning, with
“that gentleness so often found in determined spirits.” His classmate,
Moore, the poet, bore witness long after to his “pure moral worth
combined with intellectual power.... Emmet was wholly free from the
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THE
LIFE AND PUBLIC SERVICES
OF
JAMES A. GARFIELD,
TWENTIETH PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
INCLUDING
_FULL AND ACCURATE DETAILS OF HIS EVENTFUL ADMINISTRATION,
ASSASSINATION, LAST HOURS, DEATH, Etc._
TOGETHER WITH
NOTABLE EXTRACTS FROM HIS SPEECHES AND LETTERS
BY E. E. BROWN.
BOSTON
D. LOTHROP COMPANY
32 FRANKLIN STREET
COPYRIGHT, 1881,
BY D. LOTHROP & CO.
DEDICATION.
"To one who joined with us in sorrow true,
And bowed her crowned head above our slain."
INTRODUCTION.
BY REV. A. J. GORDON, D. D.
More eloquent voices for Christ and the gospel have never come from the
grave of a dead President than those which we hear from the tomb of our
lamented chief magistrate.
Twenty six years ago this summer a company of college students had gone
to the top of Greylock Mountain, in Western Massachusetts, to spend the
night. A very wide outlook can be gained from that summit. But if you
will stand there with that little company to-day, you can see farther
than the bounds of Massachusetts or the bounds of New England, or the
bounds of the Union. James A. Garfield is one of that band of students,
and as the evening shades gather, he rises up among the group and says,
"Classmates, it is my habit to read a portion of God's Word before
retiring to rest. Will you permit me to read aloud?" And then taking in
his hand a pocket Testament, he reads in that clear, strong voice a
chapter of Holy Writ, and calls upon a brother student to offer prayer.
"How far the little candle throws its beams!" It required real principle
to take that stand even in such a company. Was that candle of the Lord
afterward put out amid the dampening and unfriendly influences of a long
political life? It would not be strange. Many a Christian man has had
his religious testimony smothered amid the stifling and vitiated air of
party politics, till instead of a clear light, it has given out only
the flicker and foulness of a "smoking wick."
But pass on for a quarter of a century. The young student has become a
man. He has been in contact for years with the corrupting influences of
political life. Let us see where he stands now. In the great Republican
Convention at Chicago he is a leading figure. The meetings have been
attended with unprecedented excitement through the week. Sunday has
come, and such is the strain of rivalry between contending factions that
most of the politicians spend the entire day in pushing the interests of
their favorite candidates. But on that Lord's day morning Mr. Garfield
is seen quietly wending his way to the house of God. His absence being
remarked upon to him next day, he said, in reply, "I have more
confidence in the prayers to God which ascended in the churches
yesterday, than in all the caucusing which went on in the hotels."
He had great interests at stake as the promoter of the nomination of a
favorite candidate When so much was pending, might he not be allowed to
use the Sunday for defending his interest? So many would have reasoned
But no! amid the clash of contending factions and the tumult of
conflicting interests, there is one politician that heard the Word of
God sounding in his ear "_Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy
work_, but the seventh is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God, in it thou
shall not do any work." And, at the bidding of the Divine command, his
conscience marches him away to the house of God. Not, indeed, to enjoy
the luxury of hearing some famous preacher, or of listening to some
superb singing, but he goes to one of the obscurest and humblest
churches in the city, because there is where he belongs, and that is
the church which he has covenanted to walk with, as a disciple of Jesus
Christ. "How far" again "that little candle threw its beams!" It was a
little thing, but it was the index of a principle, an index that pointed
the whole American people upward when they heard of it. Here was a man
who did not carry a pocket conscience--a bundle of portable convictions
tied up with a thread of expediency. Nay! here was a man whose
conscience carried him--his master, not his menial, his sovereign, not
his servant.
And when, during the last days in his home at Mentor, just before going
to Washington to assume his office, he was entertaining some political
friends at tea, he did not forego evening prayers, for fear he might be
charged with cant, but, according to his custom, drew his family
together and opened the Scriptures and bowed in prayer in the midst of
his guests. And his was a religious principle that found expression in
action as well as in prayer. A lady residing in Washington told us that
while a member of the House of Representatives, he was accustomed to
work faithfully in the Sunday school, and that among his last acts was
the recruiting of a class of young men and teaching them in the Bible.
We know from his pastor that he was not too busy to be found often in
the social meetings of the church, nor too great to be above praying and
exhorting in the little group of Christians with whom he met. A
practical Christian, did we say? He must have been a spiritual Christian
also. There is one address of his in Congress that made a great
impression on our mind as we read it. He was delivering a brief eulogy
on some deceased Senator--I think it was Senator Ferry. He spoke of him
as a Christian, not a formalist, but a devout and godly disciple of
Christ. And then he spoke of the rest into | 2,080.768972 |
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Produced by David Widger
AT SUNWICH PORT
BY
W. W. JACOBS
Part 4.
ILLUSTRATIONS
From Drawings by Will Owen
CHAPTER XVI
The two ladies received Mr. Hardy's information with something akin to
consternation, the idea of the autocrat of Equator Lodge as a stowaway on
board the ship of his ancient enemy proving too serious for ordinary
comment. Mrs. Kingdom's usual expressions of surprise, "Well, I never
did!" and "Good gracious alive!" died on her lips, and she sat gazing
helpless and round-eyed at her niece.
"I wonder what he said," she gasped, at last.
Miss Nugent, who was trying to imagine her father in his new role aboard
the Conqueror, paid no heed. It was not a pleasant idea, and her eyes
flashed with temper as she thought of it. Sooner or later the whole
affair would be public property.
"I had an idea all along that he wasn't in London," murmured Mrs.
Kingdom. "Fancy that Nathan Smith standing in Sam's room telling us
falsehoods like that! He never even blushed."
"But you said that you kept picturing father walking about the streets of
London, wrestling with his pride and trying to make up his mind to come
home again," said her niece, maliciously.
Mrs. Kingdom fidgeted, but before she could think of a satisfactory reply
Bella came to the door and asked to speak to her for a moment. Profiting
by her absence, Mr. Hardy leaned towards Miss Nugent, and in a low voice
expressed his sorrow at the mishap to her father and his firm conviction
that everything that could be thought of for that unfortunate mariner's
comfort would be done. "Our fathers will probably come back good
friends," he concluded. "There is nothing would give me more pleasure
than that, and I think that we had better begin and set them a good
example."
"It is no good setting an example to people who are hundreds of miles
away," said the matter-of-fact Miss Nugent. "Besides, if they have made
friends, they don't want an example set them."
"But in that case they have set us an example which we ought to follow,"
urged Hardy.
Miss Nugent raised her eyes to his. "Why do you wish to be on friendly
terms?" she asked, with disconcerting composure.
[Illustration: "'Why do you wish to be on friendly terms?' she asked."]
"I should like to know your father," returned Hardy, with perfect
gravity; "and Mrs. Kingdom--and you."
He eyed her steadily as he spoke, and Miss Nugent, despite her utmost
efforts, realized with some indignation that a faint tinge of colour was
creeping into her cheeks. She remembered his covert challenge at their
last interview at Mr. Wilks's, and the necessity of reading this
persistent young man a stern lesson came to her with all the force of a
public duty.
"Why?" she inquired, softly, as she lowered her eyes and assumed a
pensive expression.
"I admire him, for one thing, as a fine seaman," said Hardy.
"Yes," said Miss Nugent, "and--"
"And I've always had a great liking for Mrs. Kingdom," he continued; "she
was very good-natured to me when I was a very small boy, I remember. She
is very kind and amiable."
The baffled Miss Nugent stole a glance at him. "And--" she said again,
very softly.
"And very motherly," said Hardy, without moving a muscle.
Miss Nugent pondered and stole another glance at him. The expression of
his face was ingenuous, not to say simple. She resolved to risk it. So
far he had always won in their brief encounters, and monotony was always
distasteful to her, especially monotony of that kind.
"And what about me?" she said, with a friendly smile.
"You," said Hardy, with a gravity of voice belied by the amusement in his
eye; "you are the daughter of the fine seaman and the niece of the
good-natured and motherly Mrs. Kingdom."
Miss Nugent looked down again hastily, and all the shrew within her
clamoured for vengeance. It was the same masterful Jem Hardy that had
forced his way into their seat at church as a boy. If he went on in
this way he would become unbearable; she resolved, at the cost of much
personal inconvenience, to give him a much-needed fall. But she realized
quite clearly that it would be a matter of time.
"Of course, you and Jack are already good friends?" she said, softly.
"Very," assented Hardy. "Such good friends that I have been devoting a
lot of time lately to considering ways and means of getting him out of
the snares of the Kybirds."
"I should have thought that that was his affair," said Miss Nugent,
haughtily.
"Mine, too," said Hardy. "I don't want him to marry Miss Kybird."
For the first time since the engagement Miss Nugent almost approved of
it. "Why not let him know your wishes?" she said, gently. "Surely that
would be sufficient."
"But you don't want them to marry?" said Hardy, ignoring the remark.
"I don't want my brother to do anything shabby," replied the girl; "but I
shouldn't be sorry, of course, if they did not."
"Very good," said Hardy. "Armed with your consent I shall leave no stone
unturned. Nugent was let in for this, and I am going to get him out if I
can. All's fair in love and war. You don't mind my doing anything
shabby?"
"Not in the least," replied Miss Nugent, promptly.
The reappearance of Mrs. Kingdom at this moment saved Mr. Hardy the
necessity of a reply.
Conversation reverted to the missing captain, and Hardy and Mrs. Kingdom
together drew such a picture of the two captains fraternizing that Miss
Nugent felt that the millennium itself could have no surprises for her.
"He has improved very much," said Mrs. Kingdom, after the door had closed
behind their visitor; "so thoughtful."
"He's thoughtful enough," agreed her niece.
"He is what I call extremely considerate," pursued the elder lady, "but
I'm afraid he is weak; anybody could turn him round their little finger."
"I believe they could," said Miss Nugent, gazing at her with admiration,
"if he wanted to be turned."
The ice thus broken, Mr. Hardy spent the following day or two in devising
plausible reasons for another visit. He found one in the person of Mr.
Wilks, who, having been unsuccessful in finding his beloved master at a
small tavern down by the London docks, had returned to Sunwich, by no
means benefited by his change of air, to learn the terrible truth as to
his disappearance from Hardy.
"I wish they'd Shanghaid me instead," he said to that sympathetic
listener, "or Mrs. Silk."
"Eh?" said the other, staring.
"Wot'll be the end of it I don't know," said Mr. Wilks, laying a hand,
which still trembled, on the other' knee. "It's got about that she saved
my life by 'er careful nussing, and the way she shakes 'er 'ead at me for
risking my valuable life, as she calls it, going up to London, gives me
the shivers."
"Nonsense," said Hardy; "she can't marry you against your will. Just be
distantly civil to her."
"'Ow can you be distantly civil when she lives just opposite?" inquired
the steward, querulously. "She sent Teddy over at ten o'clock last night
to rub my chest with a bottle o' liniment, and it's no good me saying I'm
all right when she's been spending eighteen-pence o' good money over the
stuff."
"She can't marry you unless you ask her," said the comforter.
Mr. Wilks shook his head. "People in the alley are beginning to talk,"
he said, dolefully. "Just as I came in this afternoon old George Lee
screwed up one eye at two or three women wot was gossiping near, and when
I asked 'im wot 'e'd got to wink about he said that a bit o' wedding-cake
' | 2,174.558095 |
2023-11-16 18:53:18.6330390 | 7,074 | 9 |
Produced by KarenD, Joshua Hutchinson and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by Cornell University Digital Collections)
VOL. XXXII. No. 11.
THE
AMERICAN MISSIONARY.
* * * * *
“To the Poor the Gospel is Preached.”
* * * * *
NOVEMBER, 1878.
_CONTENTS_:
EDITORIAL.
THE ANNUAL MEETING 321
PARAGRAPHS 321, 322
MR. STANLEY’S INTEREST IN CHRISTIAN MISSIONS 322
THE INDIAN AGENTS WE NEED 325
“HAMPTON TRACTS.”—CONGREGATIONALISM IN THE SOUTH 327
SUNDRIES.—GENERAL NOTES 328
THE FREEDMEN.
ALABAMA—Florence: Rev. L. C. Anderson.—A
Memphis Letter.—A New Orleans Letter.—Scholarship
Letters 331–334
AFRICA.
THE MENDI MISSION: Rev. A. P. Miller 334
THE INDIANS.
FORT BERTHOLD, D. T.: Rev. C. L. HALL 337
LAKE SUPERIOR AGENCY: I. L. Mahan 339
RED LAKE AGENCY, MINN: C. P. Allen, M. D. 341
THE CHINESE.
CHINAPHOBIA: Dr. M. C. Briggs 342
THE CHILDREN’S PAGE 343
RECEIPTS 344
* * * * *
NEW YORK:
Published by the American Missionary Association,
ROOMS, 56 READE STREET.
* * * * *
Price, 50 Cents a Year, in advance.
* * * * *
A. Anderson, Printer, 23 to 27 Vandewater St.
_American Missionary Association_,
56 READE STREET, N. Y.
* * * * *
PRESIDENT.
HON. E. S. TOBEY, Boston.
VICE PRESIDENTS.
Hon. F. D. PARISH, Ohio.
Rev. JONATHAN BLANCHARD, Ill.
Hon. E. D. HOLTON, Wis.
Hon. WILLIAM CLAFLIN, Mass.
Rev. STEPHEN THURSTON, D. D., Me.
Rev. SAMUEL HARRIS, D. D., Ct.
Rev. SILAS MCKEEN, D. D., Vt.
WM. C. CHAPIN, Esq., R. I.
Rev. W. T. EUSTIS, Mass.
Hon. A. G. BARSTOW, R. I.
Rev. THATCHER THAYER, D. D., R. I.
Rev. RAY PALMER, D. D., N. Y.
Rev. J. M. STURTEVANT, D. D., Ill.
Rev. W. W. PATTON, D. D., D. C.
Hon. SEYMOUR STRAIGHT, La.
Rev. D. M. GRAHAM, D. D., Mich.
HORACE HALLOCK, Esq., Mich.
Rev. CYRUS W. WALLACE, D. D., N. H.
Rev. EDWARD HAWES, Ct.
DOUGLAS PUTNAM, Esq., Ohio.
Hon. THADDEUS FAIRBANKS, Vt.
SAMUEL D. PORTER, Esq., N. Y.
Rev. M. M. G. DANA, D. D., Ct.
Rev. H. W. BEECHER, N. Y.
Gen. O. O. HOWARD, Oregon.
Rev. EDWARD L. CLARK, N. Y.
Rev. G. F. MAGOUN, D. D., Iowa
Col. C. G. HAMMOND, Ill.
EDWARD SPAULDING, M. D., N. H.
DAVID RIPLEY, Esq., N. J.
Rev. WM. M. BARBOUR, D. D., Ct.
Rev. W. L. GAGE, Ct.
A. S. HATCH, Esq., N. Y.
Rev. J. H. FAIRCHILD, D. D., Ohio.
Rev. H. A. STIMSON, Minn.
Rev. J. W. STRONG, D. D., Minn.
Rev. GEORGE THACHER, LL. D., Iowa.
Rev. A. L. STONE, D. D., California.
Rev. G. H. ATKINSON, D. D., Oregon.
Rev. J. E. RANKIN, D. D., D. C.
Rev. A. L. CHAPIN, D. D., Wis.
S. D. SMITH, Esq., Mass.
Rev. H. M. PARSONS, N. Y.
PETER SMITH, Esq., Mass.
Dea. JOHN WHITING, Mass.
Rev. WM. PATTON, D. D., Ct.
Hon. J. B. GRINNELL, Iowa.
Rev. WM. T. CARR, Ct.
Rev. HORACE WINSLOW, Ct.
Sir PETER COATS, Scotland.
Rev. HENRY ALLON, D. D., London, Eng.
WM. E. WHITING, Esq., N. Y.
J. M. PINKERTON, Esq., Mass.
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY.
REV. M. E. STRIEBY, _56 Reade Street, N. Y._
DISTRICT SECRETARIES.
REV. C. L. WOODWORTH, _Boston_.
REV. G. D. PIKE, _New York_.
REV. JAS. POWELL, _Chicago, Ill._
EDGAR KETCHUM, ESQ., _Treasurer, N. Y._
H. W. HUBBARD, ESQ., _Assistant Treasurer, N. Y._
REV. M. E. STRIEBY, _Recording Secretary_.
EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE.
ALONZO S. BALL,
A. S. BARNES,
EDWARD BEECHER,
GEO. M. BOYNTON,
WM. B. BROWN,
CLINTON B. FISK,
A. P. FOSTER,
E. A. GRAVES,
S. B. HALLIDAY,
SAM’L HOLMES,
S. S. JOCELYN,
ANDREW LESTER,
CHAS. L. MEAD,
JOHN H. WASHBURN,
G. B. WILLCOX.
COMMUNICATIONS
relating to the business of the Association may be addressed to
either of the Secretaries as above.
DONATIONS AND SUBSCRIPTIONS
may be sent to H. W. Hubbard, 56 Reade Street, New York, or, when
more convenient, to either of the branch offices, 21 Congregational
House, Boston, Mass., 112 West Washington Street, Chicago, Ill.
Drafts or checks sent to Mr. Hubbard should be made payable to his
order as _Assistant Treasurer_.
A payment of thirty dollars at one time constitutes a Life Member.
Correspondents are specially requested to place at the head of each
letter the name of their Post Office, and the County and State in
which it is located.
* * * * *
THE
AMERICAN MISSIONARY.
* * * * *
VOL. XXXII. NOVEMBER, 1878. No. 11.
* * * * *
_American Missionary Association._
* * * * *
THE ANNUAL MEETING.
We take this last opportunity to invite our friends to meet us
in Taunton, Mass., October 29–31. We shall hope to see a goodly
number of the old teachers and early friends of the work. Wednesday
evening will be mainly in their hands. Among the speakers will be
Revs. George R. Merrill, Martin L. Williston, C. M. Southgate,
Svlvanus Haywood, W. S. Alexander, and O. W. Demick, Esq.
The speakers for the closing meeting on Thursday evening will be
Rev. J. L. Withrow, D. D., Rev. C. D. Hartranft, D. D., and others.
Among those who will read papers on Wednesday will be Rev. M. E.
Strieby, D. D., Rev. George Leon Walker, D. D., Rev. Ebenezer
Cutler, D. D.
As we go to press, everything promises well for a meeting of
unusual interest and power. The people of Taunton are large
hearted, and will be glad to have their hospitality taxed to the
utmost.
* * * * *
—The new Chinese Ambassadors are men from whose intelligence,
experience and wisdom we have much to hope. Chin Lan Pin, first
ambassador, is a man of deep learning, being a graduate of the Han
Lin College, of the highest class, and a man of extensive travel
and observation as well. In 1872, he visited this country as Chief
Commissioner in charge of the Chinese students sent to be educated
in the Connecticut colleges, and he subsequently visited England
and Spain on similar missions. In 1874, he was one of the three
Commissioners who were sent by the Chinese Government to Cuba, to
investigate the condition of the Chinese laborers there. After
locating the several consulates appointed for the United States, he
will visit Spain and procure the recognition of a Consul for Cuba,
and thence proceed to Peru for a similar purpose. He will then
return to Washington and take up his abode as resident Minister.
The Vice-Minister, Yung Wing, is even better known in this country.
He was graduated at Yale College with high scholastic and literary
honor, receiving the degree of LL.D. He subsequently devoted
himself to awakening his countrymen to the needs of reform in
education, and his efforts gained official recognition. He has been
Commissioner of Education and in charge of the Chinese Educational
Mission in Hartford, Conn., and of the 112 Chinese students
connected with it.
We have been glad to read a very clear report published in the
Inverness _Courier_ of an address made by Prof. Spence, of Fisk
University in that city, in Scotland. The many friends of the
University and of Prof. and Mrs. Spence will be interested to know
of the work they are doing in Great Britain, and that they are
so fully recognized in the Scottish press. We learn from private
advices, that they have been very warmly received and cordially
heard, and from the places in which they have presented their
cause, have reaped fair, if not large, results. What effect the
recent failure of the Bank of Glasgow may have upon their future
success we cannot tell, but we fear it may dry up many of the
streams from which they had hoped to draw.
* * * * *
MR. STANLEY’S INTEREST IN CHRISTIAN MISSIONS.
It was a remark of Dr. Livingstone’s, that “the end of the
geographical feat is the beginning of the missionary endeavor.”
And, although all African explorers are not animated with the
missionary idea, yet it is easy to believe that an over-ruling
Providence uses their efforts for missionary ends.
Mr. Stanley asserts, that the object of his desperate journey was,
“To flash a torch of light across the western half of the Dark
Continent.” “If the natives allow us a peaceful passage, so much
the better; if not, our duty says, go on.” “We are always under
the eye of God.” “The one God has written that this year the river
[Lualaba] shall be known throughout its length. ‘Think,’ he says,
to Frank Pocock, ‘what a benefit our journey will be to Africa.’”
From these different quotations, taken from Mr. Stanley’s recent
book, we have a right to infer, that the interests of missions were
prominent in his mind throughout his journey. Indeed, his book
indicates that he was not only governed by a desire to complete
the explorations commenced by Dr. Livingstone, but also to further
the missionary endeavors of that godly man. This was evidenced
first on his arrival at Uganda on the shores of the Victoria
Nyanza, where he wrote the following: “A barbarous man is a pure
materialist, he is full of cravings for possessing something that
he cannot describe. My experience and study of the pagan, prove
to me, that if a missionary can show the poor materialist that
religion is allied with substantial benefits and improvement of
his degraded condition, the task will be rendered comparatively
easy. The African, once brought in contact with the European,
becomes docile and imbued with a vague hope that he may also rise
in time to the level of this superior being who has challenged his
admiration. He comes to him with a desire to be taught, and, seized
with an ambition to aspire to a higher life, becomes docile and
tractable.” “I find them,” he says, elsewhere, “capable of great
love and affection, and possessed of gratitude and other traits of
human nature. I know, too, that they can be made good, obedient,
industrious, enterprising, true and moral—that they are in short,
equal to any other race or color on the face of the globe in all
the attributes of manhood.”
King Mtesa, the despotic ruler over 2,000,000 of people, appeared
to Mr. Stanley the most desirable object for his first efforts.
“Mtesa has impressed me,” he says, “as being an intelligent and
distinguished prince, who, if aided by philanthropists, will do
more for Central Africa than fifty years of gospel teaching,
unaided by such authority, can do. I think I see in him the light
that shall lighten the darkness of this benighted region. In this
man I see the possible fruition of Livingstone’s hopes, for with
his aid the civilization of equatorial Africa becomes feasible.”
Mr. Stanley further informs us how he followed up his convictions:
“Since the 5th of April, I had enjoyed ten interviews with Mtesa,
and during all, I had taken occasion to introduce topics which
would lead up to the subject of Christianity. Nothing occurred in
my presence, but I contrived to turn it towards effecting that
which had become an object to me, viz., his conversion. There was
no attempt made to confuse him with the details of any particular
doctrine. I simply drew for him the image of the Son of God
humbling himself for the good of all mankind, white and black,
and told him how, while He was in man’s disguise, He was seized
and crucified by wicked people who scorned his divinity, and yet,
out of His great love for them, while yet suffering on the cross,
He asked His great Father to forgive them. I had also begun to
translate to him the Ten Commandments, and Idi, the Emperor’s
writer, transcribed in Kiganda the words of the Law, as given to
him in choice Swahili by Robert Feruzi, one of my boat’s crew, and
a pupil of the Universities’ Mission at Zanzibar.”
“The religious conversations which I had begun with Mtesa, were
maintained in the presence of M. Linant de Bellefonds, who,
fortunately for the cause I had in view, was a Protestant. For,
when questioned by Mtesa, about the facts which I had uttered,
and which had been faithfully transcribed, M. Linant, to Mtesa’s
astonishment, employed nearly the same words, and delivered the
same responses. The remarkable fact that two white men, who had
never met before, one having arrived from the south-east, the other
having emerged from the north, should nevertheless both know the
same things, and respond in the same words, charmed the popular
mind without the burzah as a wonder, and was treasured in Mtesa’s
memory as being miraculous. As the result of these conversations,
Mtesa, who can read Arabic, caused the Ten Commandments of Moses
to be written on a board for his daily perusal, as well as the
Lord’s Prayer and the command of the Saviour, ‘Thou shalt love thy
neighbor as thyself.’”
The encouragement given to Mr. Stanley by his success with
Mtesa, caused him to send forth his famous appeal, resulting in
the establishment of a mission station at Uganda by the Church
Missionary Society of London. He seems, also, to have pursued his
work during his stay of several months with Mtesa. Meanwhile, an
opportunity was afforded him of testing the genuineness of Mtesa’s
conversion. The Wavuma were waging fearful warfare upon Mtesa,
during which, his scouts succeeded in capturing one of their
principal chiefs. Mtesa was in high glee, and caused to be gathered
a large quantity of fagots with which to burn his prisoner. “Now,
Stamlee,” he said, “you shall see how a chief of Uvuma dies. He
is about to be burnt. The Wavuma will tremble when they hear the
manner of his death.” “Ah! Mtesa,” I said, “have you forgotten the
words of the good Book, which I have read to you so often—If thy
brother offend thee, thou shalt forgive him many times,—Love thy
enemies,—Do good to them that hate you?” “Shall this man not die,
Stamlee? Shall I not have blood for him, Stamlee?”—“No, Mtesa, no
more blood; you must stop this pagan way of thinking. It is not
Mtesa the good. It is not Mtesa the Christian. It is the savage;
I know you now.” “Stamlee, Stamlee, wait a short time and you
shall see.” “An hour afterward, I was summoned by a page to his
presence, and Mtesa said: ‘Stamlee will not say Mtesa is bad now,
for he has forgiven the Mvuma Chief, and will not hurt him.’”
Mr. Stanley, however, though he had translated for Mtesa the Gospel
of St. Luke entire, prepared for him an abridged Bible, selected a
site for a church, and detailed the boy Dallington—a pupil of the
Universities’ Mission at Zanzibar—to remain at Uganda and serve as
a missionary, did not feel that he had provided sufficiently for
the spiritual wants of his convert. “A few months’ talk,” he says,
“about Christ and His blessed work on earth, though sufficiently
attractive to Mtesa, is not enough to eradicate the evils which
thirty-five years of brutal, sensuous indulgence have stamped on
the mind. This, only the unflagging zeal, the untiring devotion to
duty, and the paternal watchfulness of a sincerely pious pastor,
can effect. And it is because I am conscious of the insufficiency
of my work, and his strong evil propensities, that I have not
hesitated to describe the real character of my ‘convert.’ The grand
redeeming feature of Mtesa, though founded only on self-interest,
is his admiration for white men. By his remarks, he proved he had
a very retentive memory, and was tolerably well posted in his
articles of belief. At night I left him, with an earnest adjuration
to hold fast to the new faith, and to have recourse to prayer to
God, to give him strength to withstand all temptations that should
tend to violate the Commandments written in the Bible.”
Mr. Stanley’s long intercourse with the tribes of the interior
enabled him to discover many traits of character that indicate
the aptitude of the <DW64> to receive religious truth. On one
occasion, he had dwelt a long while in giving account of great
works of art and science, commerce, agriculture, and material
wealth; when he turned to the discussion of the grand themes of
Scripture and Divinity, the interest in the latter subject was so
intense that Mr. Stanley determined to devote himself, with renewed
energy, to the promulgation of the doctrines of the Christian
faith, discovering—what others had learned before—that the <DW64>
has a remarkable appreciation of the things of religion. He gives
an incident, which occurred at Mowa Falls, on the Livingstone
River, that displayed a quality of heart very suggestive to those
interested in the salvation of the pagan.
Uledi, the faithful coxswain who had dared every danger, and
proved dutiful and faithful for years and months, having robbed
the Expedition of a quantity of beads, a council of chiefs was
called, and the question was submitted as to what his punishment
should be. One of the most reliable and steady men replied, “Well,
master, it is a hard question. Uledi is like our elder brother,
and to give our voice for punishing him, would be like asking you
to punish ourselves; yet, master, for our sakes beat him only just
a little.” Mr. Stanley then inquired of Shumari, who was Uledi’s
brother, what punishment he should meet to the thief. “Ah, dear
master,” Shumari said, “it is true Uledi has stolen, and I have
scolded him often for it. I have never stolen. I am but a boy.
Uledi is my elder. But please, master, as the chiefs say he must be
flogged, give me half of it, and, knowing it is for Uledi’s sake,
I shall not feel it.” “Now, Saywa, you are his cousin. What do
you say?” Young Saywa advanced and said, “The master is wise. All
things that happen he writes in a book. Perhaps, if the master will
look in his book, he may see something in it about Uledi—how he
has saved many men, whose names I cannot remember, from the river;
how he worked harder on the canoes than any three men; how he has
been the first to listen to your voice always. Uledi is my cousin.
If, as the chiefs say, Uledi should be punished, Shumari says he
will take half of the punishment; then, give Saywa the other half,
and set Uledi free. Saywa has spoken.” It would seem that persons
with such instincts as these indicated above, would readily come to
appreciate and accept the sacrifice of Him by whose stripes we are
healed.
A thorough perusal of Mr. Stanley’s “Through the Dark Continent”
can hardly fail to arouse in the hearts of those yearning to heal
“that open sore of the world,” sympathy and fellowship with him.
He had his imperfections, and met with obstacles which brought
them sharply into view; but the good he accomplished will be the
longest remembered. His noble self-denial, after reaching the West
Coast, as seen in his fidelity to his pagan followers, indicates
characteristics worthy of profound admiration. Instead of leaving
their conduct round the Cape of Good Hope to Zanzibar to the charge
of others, and rushing on himself, to receive the plaudits of the
proudest courts of the civilized world, he quietly and patiently
cared for all their wants, for weary months, returning them to
their homes and friends, and rewarding them with the liberality
of a father’s affection, which will be lovingly remembered among
the tribes from whence his servants came, long after his rich and
costly gifts of material things have perished.
All this will be worth something yet to the cause of missions.
“When we were gliding,” he says, “through the broad portals [of the
Congo] into the ocean, turning to take a farewell glance at the
mighty river, I felt my heart suffused with the purest gratitude to
Him whose hand had protected us, and who had enabled us to pierce
the Dark Continent from east to west, and to trace its mightiest
river to its ocean bourn.” That gratitude, we believe, is shared by
a mighty host of the followers of Him who shall have dominion from
sea to sea—who are already echoing the last words of Mr. Stanley’s
book—_Laus Deo, Laus Deo_.
* * * * *
THE INDIAN AGENTS WE NEED.
The vacancy in the Indian Agency, referred to in the last number of
the MISSIONARY, has been filled; but, as other vacancies are likely
to occur from time to time, applications, with proper credentials,
may be forwarded to this office.
As to the qualifications necessary, we can state nothing more
clearly than we find it given in an article, which we republish
below, from the Springfield _Republican_, written by a gentleman
who seems thoroughly familiar with Indian affairs. We will
only repeat that an Indian Agency is no sinecure, and should
be undertaken by no man who is not thoroughly competent and
self-sacrificing:
A residence of two years at an agency in Dakota gave the writer
unusual opportunities for observation of the requirements of this
service. The popular impression seems to be that this office is
a sinecure, affording retirement for decayed politicians and
inefficient goodies, whereas the service is, when faithfully
performed, an arduous one, requiring exceptional and diversified
ability.
The agent must have executive capacity, together with that rare
selective faculty that recognizes at sight a competent man for a
given place. The character of the agency force of employés, and
the quality of their work, reflects the personality of the agent.
The progress of the Indians in the schools, and in learning to
work for their own support, is in proportion to the efficiency of
the agent as an executive. A vigorous, capable man infuses his
spirit into his subordinates, and, in a more limited degree, into
the natives.
The agent needs judicial knowledge. No laws are in force on
Indian reservations, with a few exceptions, but the treaties with
the Government. The administration of justice and the punishment
of crime are left to the agent, with such coöperation as he
can secure from the Indian chiefs. He settles family quarrels,
neighborhood disputes, complaints against Indians by neighboring
whites, questions of the boundary of lands and the ownership
of property. He receives acknowledgments of deeds, executes
contracts, administers estates and takes depositions. Crimes of
all degrees, from petty theft to murder or arson, come under his
jurisdiction, and he is often compelled to administer punishment
almost as arbitrarily as the captain of a man-of-war. He is even
called upon sometimes to prepare a code of laws for a tribe in an
advanced state of civilization.
Business ability and experience are indispensable qualifications.
The agent has to purchase miscellaneous supplies amounting to
from $5,000 to $50,000 annually, on contract or in open market.
The opening of bids and awarding contracts on sample requires
actual acquaintance with the market, and experience in judging of
the quality of goods of every variety. He needs the experience
and judgment of a first-class country merchant. If the agent is
an incompetent buyer, contractors and merchants are quick to
discover the fact and profit by it. A knowledge of accounts is
essential. Accurate returns of every item of cash and property
received and expended, are required by law, and are subjected to
most rigid scrutiny. Absolute correctness, in both matter and
form, is required, and ignorance of methods is not admitted as an
excuse for errors.
The diplomatic qualifications of the position are by no means
inconsiderable. A copious official correspondence is required
with the Indian office at Washington, and must be conducted
with due formality and dignity. All matters of importance are
submitted to the Indian Office for action, and it often requires
skilful presentation of a subject to make a clerk at Washington
take a view that seems self-evident to the agent on the frontier.
Great tact and patience are requisite in dealing with the various
outside influences that embarrass the agent, and often bring him
to grief. Frontier settlers are continually having difficulties
with the Indians that require attention. Liquor-sellers,
claim-agents and swindlers lie in wait for the Indian, who
must be protected. Scheming half-breeds and “squaw-men” create
dissension among the natives. Then there are the contractor
and sub-contractor; the man who failed to get the contract he
wanted, and the man who is planning to get the next contract.
There is the ex-agent, who corresponds with the employés and
Indians, and criticises his successor, and the man who wants to
be agent, and watches for a lever to oust the incumbent. (There
are always twenty of them!) There is the dissatisfied employé,
who corresponds with outsiders about agency affairs, and the
meddlesome clerk at Washington, who gives him private assistance.
The agents are few who meet all these difficulties without
serious trouble.
Especially, high moral character is a prime requisite, not only
on account of the agent’s influence upon a people just rising
from barbarism, but to enable a man to maintain his integrity
under the extraordinary temptations that surround the place. Said
an ex-agent of unimpeachable integrity: “I know of no service
that tries a man’s principles so severely as the Indian service.”
In spite of all precautions, opportunities for peculation, direct
and indirect, are frequent, and present themselves in the most
seducing forms possible.
Having shown the requirements of the position, we may consider
some of the obstacles in the way of securing agents who are
thoroughly competent for the work. First comes hard work. No
branch of our civil service draws more heavily on a man’s time
and strength. The agent is involved in a constant round of
wearisome details, varied only by frequent hard journeys by wagon
or stage, or worse, by frontier railroads.
The responsibilities of the place are onerous. The agent is held
accountable, under a heavy bond, for all funds and property that
come into his hands, as well as for all the acts and failures of
his subordinates. He may be ordered away for months at a time, on
public business, and in the meantime he must depend entirely upon
the fidelity of the agency clerk, who is not a bonded officer, to
discharge his duties and care for agency property. Release from
bonded accountability can only be had after complying with all
the forms of law and going through a long and tedious process
of examination of accounts. Two years after closing his term of
service, an agent was required to account for one iron wagon-bolt
(purchased by a subordinate, three years before), in order to
secure release from his bond, and five hundred dollars arrears of
salary. The agent’s family must endure practical exile, separated
from society, schools and churches.
Every agent, honest or dishonest, suffers in reputation. If a
man is thoroughly honest, dishonest contractors and jobbers
invariably slander him, to get rid of him. This consideration
keeps many competent men out of the service. The salary paid is
entirely inadequate. It is that of a country postmaster, an army
lieutenant, a school-teacher | 2,174.653079 |
2023-11-16 18:53:18.8341880 | 362 | 15 |
Produced by Donald Cummings, Adrian Mastronardi, 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/American
Libraries.)
+-------------------------------------------------+
|Transcriber's note: |
| |
|Errors listed in the Errata have been corrected. |
| |
+-------------------------------------------------+
ON MR. SPENCER'S DATA OF ETHICS.
BY MALCOLM GUTHRIE,
AUTHOR OF
"ON MR. SPENCER'S FORMULA OF EVOLUTION," & "ON MR. SPENCER'S
UNIFICATION OF KNOWLEDGE."
LONDON:
THE MODERN PRESS,
13 AND 14, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
1884.
(_All rights reserved._)
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.--ETHICS AND THE UNIFICATION OF KNOWLEDGE.
THE PHILOSOPHICAL VIEW 1
CHAPTER II.--THE SCIENTIFIC VIEW OF THE EVOLUTION
OF ETHICS 27
CHAPTER III.--THE BIOLOGICAL VIEW OF ETHICS 36
CHAPTER IV.--THE SOCIOLOGICAL VIEW 56
CHAPTER V.--THE ETHICAL IMPERATIVE 63
CHAPTER VI.--SYSTEMS OF ETHICS 75
CHAPTER VII.--THE EVOLUTION OF FREE WILL 83
CHAPTER VIII.--EVOLUTION AND RELIGION 107
CHAPTER IX.--SUMMARY 120
PREFACE.
This volume completes the critical examination of Mr. Spencer's system
of Philosophy already pursued through two previous volumes entitled
respectively "On Mr. Spencer's Formula of Evolution," and " | 2,174.854228 |
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Transcriber's Note
The role of marginal notes differs from text to text in this collection.
Please see the Transcriber's Notes for how they are rendered in this
text version.
Italics are used freely, and have been rendered using _underscore_
characters. Bold text is indicated as '=bold='. A super-imposed bar
spanning several letters, which is a conventional mode of abbreviation,
is denoted with '==' (eg. 'a==a'). The [oe] ligature is rendered as 'oe'.
Superscripted letters are indicated with a carat '^' as in 'K^t'. Where
multiple characters are superscripted, { } are used, as in 'M^{rs.}'
The text includes Greek and several instances of Hebrew, both of which
are transliterated, and denoted with '+' delimiters as '+greek+' or
+hebrew+.
The apothecary's symbol for 'ounce', occuring once, is rendered as [-3],
which it resembles. The letter m, with a macron, is rendered as [=m].
Please consult the more detailed notes at the end of this text.
THE ENGLISH LIBRARY
THE WORKS OF
SIR THOMAS BROWNE
VOLUME III
THE WORKS OF
SIR THOMAS BROWNE
Edited by
CHARLES SAYLE
VOLUME III
EDINBURGH
JOHN GRANT
1907
PREFATORY NOTE
In concluding the present edition of Sir Thomas Browne's works,
attention may be drawn to the reprint of the _Hydriotaphia_, from the
first edition of 1658. The copy collated was the one preserved in the
Library of Trinity College, Cambridge. In this, in addition to the
corrections made at the time of publication on the printed label
attached, there are a few others made by a contemporary hand, which
deserve consideration. Among these is the excision of a sentence
hitherto preserved in the text, and now relegated to the margin (p.
205). If further sanction were needed for the change indicated, it may
be gathered from the inscription on the title-page, 'Ex dono Auctoris.'
The text of the _Christian Morals_ of 1716 has been collated with the
copy in the same Library.
For the account of Birds and Fishes found in Norfolk (pp. 513-539),
Professor Alfred Newton generously placed his annotated copy at the
disposal of the editor. As those actual pages were in the press,
Professor Newton passed away, and Death has deprived us of the pleasure
of placing this volume in his hands. In this edition Professor Newton's
readings have been in the main followed, with the additional help of the
valuable recension, published by Mr. Thomas Southwell of Norwich, in
1902, to which every serious student of this treatise must always refer.
For further assistance in questions of identification, I am again
indebted to the kindness of Mr. W. Aldis Wright; and for one correction
to Mr. A. R. Waller.
Sir Thomas Browne's Latin treatises and his correspondence are not
included in these volumes. It was the determination of the original
publisher of this edition that they should be omitted; and indeed they
do not form the most characteristic part of Sir Thomas Browne's work.
His erudition, and the resources from which he drew, his amazing
industry, his marvellous diction, and natural piety--all these are
apparent to the general reader of his English text; and it is to such
that the present edition of Sir Thomas Browne's works, as they
originally appeared, will primarily appeal.
C. S.
_16th June 1907._
CONTENTS
Page
PREFATORY NOTE BY THE EDITOR, v
PSEUDODOXIA EPIDEMICA--
THE SEVENTH BOOK:
1. Of the Forbidden Fruit, 1
2. That a Man hath one Rib less then a Woman, 5
3. Of Methuselah, 8
4. That there was no Rain-bow before the Flood, 11
5. Of Sem, Ham, and Japhet, 15
6. That the Tower of Babel was erected against a Second Deluge, 17
7. Of the Mandrakes of Leah, 19
8. Of the three Kings of Collein, 25
9. Of the food of John Baptist, Locust and Wild Honey, 27
10. That John Evangelist should not | 2,174.950594 |
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public domain material from the Google Print project.)
SAMBOE;
OR,
THE AFRICAN BOY.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
"Twilight Hours Improved," &c. &c.
And man, where Freedom's beams and fountains rise,
Springs from the dust, and blossoms to the skies.
Dead to the joys of light and life, the slave
Clings to the clod; his root is in the grave.
Bondage is winter, darkness, death, despair;
Freedom the sun, the sea, the mountain, and the air!
Montgomery.
London:
PRINTED FOR HARVEY AND DARTON,
GRACECHURCH-STREET.
1823.
TO
WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, Esq.
M. P.
THIS SMALL VOLUME,
DIFFIDENTLY AIMING TO SERVE THE CAUSE OF HUMANITY
IS,
BY HIS KIND PERMISSION
TO GIVE IT THE SANCTION OF HIS NAME,
HUMBLY DEDICATED;
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF UNFEIGNED VENERATION
AND RESPECT FOR HIS
EXALTED PATRIOTIC AND PRIVATE VIRTUES,
And grateful acknowledgment
OF HIS CONDESCENSION, IN HONOURING WITH HIS
ATTENTION THE HUMBLE EFFORTS OF
THE AUTHOR.
ADVERTISEMENT.
It has been justly remarked, "that all who read may become
enlightened;" for readers, insensibly imbibing the sentiments of
others, and having their own latent sensibilities called forth,
contract, progressively, virtuous inclinations and habits; and thereby
become fitted to unite with their fellow-beings, in the removal or
amelioration of any of the evils of life. With a full conviction
of this, I have attempted, and now offer to my young readers, the
present little work. To the rising generation, I am told, the great
question of the slave-trade is little known; the abolition of it, by
our legislature, having taken place either before many of them existed,
or at too early a period of their lives to excite any interest. Present
circumstances, however, in reference to the subject, ensure for it
an intense interest, in every heart feeling the blessing of freedom
and all the sweet charities of home; blessings which it is our care
to dispose the youthful heart duly to appreciate, and hence to feel
for those, deprived, by violence and crime, of these high privileges
of man.
It is true, England has achieved the triumph of humanity, in effacing
from her Christian character so dark a stain as a traffic in human
beings; a commerce, "the history of which is written throughout in
characters of blood." Yet there are but too strong evidences that
it is yet pursued to great and fearful extent by other nations,
notwithstanding the solemn obligations they have entered into to
suppress it; obligations "imposed on every Christian state, no less by
the religion it professes, than by a regard to its national honour;"
and notwithstanding it has been branded with infamy, at a solemn
congress of the great Christian powers, as a crime of the deepest
dye. Of this there has long been most abundant melancholy proof; yet,
under its present contraband character, it has been attended by, if
possible, unprecedented enormities and misery, as well as involving
the base and cruel agents of it in the further crime of deliberate
perjury, in order to conceal their nefarious employment.
Surely, then, no age can scarcely be too immature, in which to sow the
seeds of abhorrence in the young breast, against this blood-stained,
demoralizing commerce! Surely, no means, however trivial, should
be neglected, to arouse the spirit of youth against it! It would be
tedious, and, indeed, inconsistent with the brevity of this little
work, to name the number of the great and the good who have protested
against, and sacrificed their time and their treasure to abolish
it. Suffice it to say, that an apparently trifling incident first
aroused the virtuous energies of the ardent, persevering Clarkson, in
the great cause;--that a view of the produce of Africa, and proofs of
the ingenuity of Africans, kindled the fire of enthusiasm in the noble
and comprehensive mind of a Pitt. Nor did the flame quiver or become
dim while he was the pilot of the state, though he was not decreed to
see the success of perseverance in the cause of justice and humanity.
Let me, therefore, be acquitted of presumption, when I express a hope,
that, trifling as is the present work, yet, as the leading events
it records are not the creations of fancy, but realities that have
passed; that they have not been collected for effect, or uselessly
to awaken the feelings; but having been actually presented in the
pursuit of a disgraceful and cruel commerce, are now offered to the
view of my young readers, in order to confirm the great truths, that
cruelty and oppression encouraged, soon brutalize the nature of man;
divesting him of every distinguishing trait which unites him with
superior intelligences, and sinking him in the scale of being far
below the ravening wolf and insatiate tiger; and that the slave-trade,
more especially, never fails effectually to destroy all the sympathies
of humanity, and so far to barbarize those who are concerned in it,
as assuredly to cause civilized man to resume the ferocity of the
savage whom he presumes to despise.
The Author.
"Offspring of love divine, Humanity!
---- ---- ---- ---- ----
Come thou, and weep with me substantial ills,
And execrate the wrongs that Afric's sons,
Torn from their native shore, and doom'd to bear
The yoke of servitude in foreign climes,
Sustain. Nor vainly let our sorrows flow,
Nor let the strong emotion rise in vain.
But may the kind contagion widely spread,
Till, in its flame, the unrelenting heart
Of avarice melt in softest sympathy,
And one bright ray of universal love,
Of grateful incense, rises up to heaven!"
Roscoe's Wrongs of Africa.
"E'en from my pen some heartfelt truths may fall;
For outrag'd nature claims the care of all."
SAMBOE; OR, THE AFRICAN BOY.
CHAPTER I.
"Slaves of gold! whose sordid dealings
Tarnish all your boasted powers,
Prove that ye have human feelings,
Ere ye proudly question ours."
"Encourage the chiefs to go to war, that they may obtain slaves; for
as on many accounts we require a large number, we desire you to exert
yourself, and not stand out for a price." Such was the direction,
and such the order, of the slave-merchants at Cape Coast Castle,
to one of their factors in the interior, for the collection and
purchase of slaves; who, dreadful as was his occupation, yet at all
times faithfully endeavoured to obey the orders of his employers.
This person had, by studying the character, peculiarities, prejudices,
and language of the natives, obtained a great influence over the chiefs
of a country, peculiarly blessed by Providence, with all that can
enchant the eye, or gratify the wants of man. It is a well-known, but
melancholy truth, that, by the introduction of spirituous liquors, and
other desirable articles to an uncivilized people, the Europeans have
greatly augmented and cherished the dreadful traffic in human beings:
the African kings and chiefs being induced, by these temptations,
to barter their subjects and captives, for commodities they estimate
so highly; frequently even fomenting quarrels, and making war with
each other, at the instigation of the slave-factors, for the sole
purpose of obtaining captives, in order to exchange them for European
articles, with which the factors, who visit their country for the
dreadful purpose, are well furnished; to tempt the appetites, and
provoke the wild passions, of the wretched beings they intend to make
the instruments of their inhuman thirst of gain. (Note A.)
"The natural bond
Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax
That falls asunder at the touch of fire--
And having pow'r
T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey."
Mr. Irving, the factor whom we have named as having received the
peremptory and unlimited order from the merchants of Cape Coast
Castle, had won their confidence, by the remarkable success which had
attended his negociations with the king and principal grandees of
Whidah, in which delightful part of Africa he had resided for some
years. Nothing, perhaps, more strongly proves the indurating power
of the love of gain upon the heart, and the baneful influence of the
habitual view of oppression on the better feelings of the soul, than
the change which generally takes place in the characters of the young
men whose official duty places them in situations like that filled by
Mr. Irving. It has, indeed, been most justly and impressively observed,
that it is impossible for any one to be accustomed to carry away
miserable beings, by force, from their country and endearing ties,
to keep them in chains, to see their tears, to hear their mournful
lamentations, to behold the dead and the dying mingled together, to
keep up a system of severity towards them in their deep affliction,
to be constant witnesses of the misery of exile, bondage, cruelty,
and oppression, which, together, form the malignant character of this
nefarious traffic, without losing all those better feelings it should
be the study of man to cherish; or without contracting those habits
of moroseness and ferocity which brutalize the nature.
Irving, like many other youths, had been induced by an ardent
curiosity, and an enterprising spirit, to engage as a writer to
the Royal African Company [1], at a time when the traffic in slaves
was legally pursued, as one source of riches to a great commercial
nation. Yet it may with candour be presumed, that he, and many a
youth entering upon the same path, with the same laudable impulses,
had they anticipated the peril to which they exposed their humane
principles, by engaging themselves in a trade so repugnant to nature,
religion, and justice, would rather have undergone personal hazard and
difficulty in their native land, so that they might have fostered that
divine principle, which is the noble and distinguishing characteristic
of man--of free-born man.
That Irving possessed a native humanity and right feeling, would
appear from his letters to his friends in England, written on his
arrival in Africa; and as he describes the country as it first met
his admiring and youthful eye, it may be not unam | 2,176.554187 |
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ALICE LORRAINE:
_A TALE OF THE SOUTH DOWNS_.
BY
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE,
AUTHOR OF “THE MAID OF SKER,” “LORNA DOONE,” ETC.
οὕτως ἔχει σοι ταῦτα, καὶ δείξεις τάχα,
εἴτ’ εὐγενὴς πέφυκας, εἴτ’ ἐσθλῶν κακή.
SOPH. _Ant._
_NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION._
LONDON:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY,
_LIMITED_,
St. Dunstan’s House,
FETTER LANE, FLEET STREET, E.C.
1893.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
To
PROFESSOR OWEN, C.B., F.R.S., &c.,
WITH THE WRITER’S GRATITUDE,
FOR WORDS OF TRUE ENCOURAGEMENT,
AND MANY ACTS OF KINDNESS,
This Work
MOST HEARTILY IS DEDICATED
_April, 1875._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--ALL IN THE DOWNS 1
II.--COOMBE LORRAINE 3
III.--LINEAGE AND LINEAMENTS 5
IV.--FATHER AND FAVOURITE 7
V.--THE LEGEND OF THE ASTROLOGER 11
VI.--THE LEGEND CONTINUED 14
VII.--THE LEGEND CONCLUDED 17
VIII.--ASTROLOGICAL FORECAST 20
IX.--THE LEGACY OF THE ASTROLOGER 24
X.--A BOY AND A DONKEY 27
XI.--CHAMBER PRACTICE 35
XII.--WITH THE COSTERMONGERS 45
XIII.--TO THE CHERRY-ORCHARDS 49
XIV.--BEAUTIES OF THE COUNTRY 55
XV.--OH, RUDDIER THAN THE CHERRY! 59
XVI.--OH, SWEETER THAN THE BERRY! 66
XVII.--VERY SHY THINGS 72
XVIII.--THE KEY OF THE GATE 78
XIX.--FOUR YOUNG LADIES 84
XX.--A RECTOR OF THE OLDEN STYLE 92
XXI.--A NOTABLE LADY 96
XXII.--A MALIGNANT CASE 100
XXIII.--THE BAITER BAITED 105
XXIV.--A FATHERLY SUGGESTION 109
XXV.--THE WELL OF THE SIBYL 112
XXVI.--AN OPPORTUNE ENVOY 117
XXVII.--A GOOD PARSON’S HOLIDAY 121
XXVIII.--NOT TO BE RESISTED 126
XXIX.--ABSURD SURDS 130
XXX.--OUR LAD STEENIE 135
XXXI.--IN A MARCHING REGIMENT 139
XXXII.--PUBLIC AND PRIVATE OPINION 144
XXXIII.--RAGS AND BONES 149
XXXIV.--UNDER DEADLY FIRE 157
XXXV.--HOW TO FRY NO PANCAKES 161
XXXVI.--LADY COKE UPON LITTLETON 166
XXXVII.--ACHES _v._ ACRES 172
XXXVIII.--IN THE DEADLY BREACH 177
XXXIX.--SHERRY SACK 183
XL.--BENEATH BRIGHT EYES 191
XLI.--DONNAS PRAY AND PRACTISE 195
XLII.--AN UNWELCOME ESCORT 200
XLIII.--IN AMONG THE BIG-WIGS 209
XLIV.--HOW TO TAKE BAD TIDINGS 216
XLV.--INNOCENCE IN NO SENSE 220
XLVI.--HARD RIDING AND HARD READING 226
XLVII.--TRY TO THINK THE BEST OF ME 234
XLVIII.--SOMETHING WORTH KISSING 239
XLIX.--A DANGEROUS COMMISSION 245
L.--STERLING AND STRIKING AFFECTION 250
LI.--EMPTY LOCKERS 259
LII.--BE NO MORE OFFICER OF MINE 264
LIII.--FAREWELL, ALL YOU SPANISH LADIES 268
LIV.--GOING UP THE TREE 275
LV.--THE WOEBURN 281
LVI.--GOING DOWN THE HILL 290
LVII.--THE PLEDGE OF A LIFE 297
LVIII.--A HERO’S RETURN 304
LIX.--THE GRAVE OF THE ASTROLOGER 312
LX.--COURTLY MANNERS 316
LXI.--A SAMPLE FROM KENT 322
LXII.--A FAMILY ARRANGEMENT 327
LXIII.--BETTER THAN THE DOCTORS 332
LXIV.--IMPENDING DARKNESS 335
LXV.--A FINE CHRISTMAS SERMON 341
LXVI.--COMING DOWN IN EARNEST 344
LXVII.--THE LAST CHANCE LOST 348
LXVIII.--THE DEATH-BOURNE 353
LXIX.--BOTTLER BEATS THE ELEMENTS 357
LXX.--OH, HARO! HARO! HARO! 361
LXXI.--AN ARGUMENT REFUTED 367
LXXII.--ON LETHE’S WHARF 370
LXXIII.--POLLY’S DOLL 374
LXXIV.--FROM HADES’ GATES 377
LXXV.--SOMETHING LIKE A LEGACY 380
LXXVI.--SCIENTIFIC SOLUTION 385
LXXVII.--HER HEART IS HIS 387
LXXVIII.--THE LAST WORD COMES FROM BONNY 390
ALICE LORRAINE.
CHAPTER I.
ALL IN THE DOWNS.
Westward of that old town Steyning, and near Washington and Wiston, the
lover of an English landscape may find much to dwell upon. The best way
to enjoy it is to follow the path along the meadows, underneath the
inland rampart of the Sussex hills. Here is pasture rich enough for
the daintiest sheep to dream upon; tones of varied green in stripes
(by order of the farmer), trees as for a portrait grouped, with the
folding hills behind, and light and shadow making love in play to one
another. Also, in the breaks of meadow and the footpath bendings,
stiles where love is made in earnest, at the proper time of year, with
the dark-browed hills imposing everlasting constancy.
Any man here, however sore he may be from the road of life, after
sitting awhile and gazing, finds the good will of his younger days
revive with a wider capacity. Though he hold no commune with the
heights so far above him, neither with the trees that stand in quiet
audience soothingly, nor even with the flowers still as bright as
in his childhood, yet to himself he must say something--better said
in silence. Into his mind, and heart, and soul, without any painful
knowledge, or the noisy trouble of thinking, pure content with his
native land and its claim on his love are entering. The power of the
earth is round him with its lavish gifts of life,--bounty from the lap
of beauty, and that cultivated glory which no other land has earned.
Instead of panting to rush abroad and be lost among jagged obstacles,
rather let one stay within a very easy reach of home, and spare an
hour to saunter gently down this meadow path. Here in a broad bold gap
of hedge, with bushes inclined to heal the breach, and mallow-leaves
hiding the scar of chalk, here is a stile of no high pretence, and
comfortable to gaze from. For hath it not a preface of planks,
constructed with deep anatomical knowledge, and delicate study of
maiden decorum? And lo! in spite of the planks--as if to show what
human nature is--in the body of the stile itself, towards the end of
the third bar down, are two considerable nicks, where the short-legged
children from the village have a sad habit of coming to think. Here,
with their fingers in their mouths, they sit and muse, and scrape their
heels, and stare at one another, broadly taking estimate of life. Then
with a push and scream, the scramble and the rush down hill begin,
ending (as all troubles should) in a brisk pull-up of laughter.
However, it might be too much to say that the cleverest child beneath
the hills, or even the man with the licence to sell tea, coffee, snuff,
and tobacco, who now comes looking after them, finds any conscious
pleasure, or feels quickening influence from the scene. To them it is
but a spread of meadows under a long curve of hill, green and mixed
with trees down here, brown and spotted with furze up there; to the
children a play-ground; to the men a farm, requiring repairs and a good
bit of manure.
So it is: and yet with even those who think no more of it, the place,
if not the scenery, has its aftermath of influence. In later times,
when sickness, absence, or the loss of sight debars them, men will
feel a deep impression of a thing to long for. To be longed for with
a yearning stronger than mere admiration, or the painter’s taste can
form. For he, whatever pleasure rises at the beauty of the scene,
loses it by thinking of it; even as the joy of all things dies in the
enjoying.
But to those who there were born (and never thought about it),
in the days of age or ailment, or of better fortune even in a
brighter climate, how at the sound of an ancient name, or glimpse
of faint resemblance, or even on some turn of thought untraced and
unaccountable--again the hills and valleys spread, to aged vision truer
than they were to youthful eyesight; again the trees are rustling in
the wind as they used to rustle; again the sheep climb up the brown
turf in their snowy zigzag. A thousand winks of childhood widen into
one clear dream of age.
CHAPTER II.
COOMBE LORRAINE.
“How came that old house up there?” is generally the first question put
by a Londoner to his Southdown friend leading him through the lowland
path. “It must have a noble view; but what a position, and what an
aspect!”
“The house has been there long enough to get used to it,” is his
host’s reply; “and it is not built, as they are where you live, of the
substance of a hat.”
That large old-fashioned house, which looks as if it had been much
larger, stands just beneath the crest of a long-backed hill in a
deep embrasure. Although it stands so high, and sees much less of
the sun than the polestar, it is not quite so weather-beaten as | 2,176.557348 |
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Produced by Martin Schub
THE LONG LABRADOR TRAIL
by
DILLON WALLACE
Author of "The Lure of the Labrador Wild," etc.
Illustrated
MCMXVII
TO THE
MEMORY OF MY WIFE
"A drear and desolate shore!
Where no tree unfolds its leaves,
And never the spring wind weaves
Green grass for the hunter's tread | 2,176.557506 |
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Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger
[Note: See also etext #219 which is a different version of this eBook]
HEART OF DARKNESS
By Joseph Conrad
I
The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of
the sails, and was at rest. The flood had made, the wind was nearly
calm, and being bound down the river, the only thing for it was to come
to and wait for the turn of the tide.
The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of
an interminable waterway. In the offing the sea and the sky were welded
together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails
of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red
clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. A
haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness.
The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed
condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest,
and the greatest, town on earth.
The Director of Companies was our captain and our host. We four
affectionately watched his back as he stood in the bows looking to
seaward. On the whole river there was nothing that looked half so
nautical. He resembled a pilot, which to a seaman is trustworthiness
personified. It was difficult to realize his work was not out there in
the luminous estuary, but behind him, within the brooding gloom.
Between us there was, as I have already said somewhere, the bond of
the sea. Besides holding our hearts together through long periods of
separation, it had the effect of making us tolerant of each other's
yarns--and even convictions. The Lawyer--the best of old fellows--had,
because of his many years and many virtues, the only cushion on deck,
and was lying on the only rug. The Accountant had brought out already a
box of dominoes, and was toying architecturally with the bones. Marlow
sat cross-legged right aft, leaning against the mizzen-mast. He had
sunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, a straight back, an ascetic aspect,
and, with his arms dropped, the palms of hands outwards, resembled an
idol. The Director, satisfied the anchor had good hold, made his way
aft and sat down amongst us. We exchanged a few words lazily. Afterwards
there was silence on board the yacht. For some reason or other we did
not begin that game of dominoes. We felt meditative, and fit for nothing
but placid staring. The day was ending in a serenity of still and
exquisite brilliance. The water shone pacifically; the sky, without a
speck, was a benign immensity of unstained light; the very mist on the
Essex marshes was like a gauzy and radiant fabric, hung from the wooded
rises inland, and draping the low shores in diaphanous folds. Only the
gloom to the west, brooding over the upper reaches, became more somber
every minute, as if angered by the approach of the sun.
And at last, in its curved and imperceptible fall, the sun sank low, and
from glowing white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat,
as if about to go out suddenly, stricken to death by the touch of that
gloom brooding over a crowd of men.
Forthwith a change came over the waters, and the serenity became less
brilliant but more profound. The old river in its broad reach rested
unruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to the
race that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a
waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth. We looked at the
venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and
departs for ever, but in the august light of abiding memories. And
indeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as the phrase goes,
"followed the sea" with reverence and affection, than to evoke the
great spirit of the past upon the lower reaches of the Thames. The tidal
current runs to and fro in its unceasing service, crowded with memories
of men and ships it had borne to the rest of home or to the battles
of the sea. It had known and served all the men of whom the nation is
proud, from Sir Francis Drake to Sir John Franklin, knights all, titled
and untitled--the great knights-errant of the sea. It had borne all the
ships whose names are like jewels flashing in the night of time, from
the Golden Hind returning with her round flanks full of treasure, to be
visited by the Queen's Highness and thus pass out of the gigantic tale,
to the Erebus and Terror, bound on other conquests--and that never
returned. It had known the ships and the men. They had sailed from
Deptford, from Greenwich, from Erith--the adventurers and the settlers;
kings' ships and the ships of men on 'Change; captains, admirals, the
dark "interlopers" of the Eastern trade, and the commissioned "generals"
of East India fleets. Hunters for gold or pursuers of fame, they all
had gone out on that stream, bearing the sword, and often the torch,
messengers of the might within the land, bearers of a spark from the
sacred fire. What greatness had not floated on the ebb of that river
into the mystery of an unknown earth!... The dreams of men, the seed
of commonwealths, the germs of empires.
The sun set; the dusk fell on the stream, and lights began to appear
along the shore. The Chapman lighthouse, a three-legged thing erect on a
mud-flat, shone strongly. Lights of ships moved in the fairway--a great
stir of lights going up and going down. And farther west on the upper
reaches the place of the monstrous town was still marked ominously on
the sky, a brooding gloom in sunshine, a lurid glare under the stars.
"And this also," said Marlow suddenly, "has been one of the dark places
of the earth."
He was the only man of us who still "followed the sea." The worst that
could be said of him was that he did not represent his class. He was a
seaman, but he was a wanderer, too, while most seamen lead, if one may
so express it, a sedentary life. Their minds are of the stay-at-home
order, and their home is always with them--the ship; and so is their
country--the sea. One ship is very much like another, and the sea is
always the same. In the immutability of their surroundings the foreign
shores, the foreign faces, the changing immensity of life, glide past,
veiled not by a sense of mystery but by a slightly disdainful ignorance;
for there is nothing mysterious to a seaman unless it be the sea itself,
which is the mistress of his existence and as inscrutable as Destiny.
For the rest, after his hours of work, a casual stroll or a casual spree
on shore suffices to unfold for him the secret of a whole continent,
and generally he finds the secret not worth knowing. The yarns of seamen
have a direct simplicity, the whole meaning of which lies within the
shell of a cracked nut. But Marlow was not typical (if his propensity
to spin yarns be excepted), and to him the meaning of an episode was not
inside like a kernel but outside, enveloping the tale which brought it
out only as a glow brings out a haze, in the likeness of one of these
misty halos that sometimes are made visible by the spectral illumination
of moonshine.
His remark did not seem at all surprising. It was just like Marlow.
It was accepted in silence. No one took the trouble to grunt even; and
presently he said, very slow--
"I was thinking of very old times, when the Romans first came here,
nineteen hundred years ago--the other day.... Light came out of this
river since--you say Knights? Yes; but it is like a running blaze on
a plain, like a flash of lightning in the clouds. We live in the
flicker--may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling! But
darkness was here yesterday. Imagine the feelings of a commander of
a fine--what d'ye call 'em?--trireme in the Mediterranean, ordered
suddenly to the north; run overland across the Gauls in a hurry; put in
charge of one of these craft the legionaries,--a wonderful lot of handy
men they must have been too--used to build, apparently by the hundred,
in a month or two, if we may believe what we read. Imagine him here--the
very end of the world, a sea the color of lead, a sky the color of
smoke, a kind of ship about as rigid as a concertina--and going up this
river with stores, or orders, or what you like. Sandbanks, marshes,
forests, savages,--precious little to eat fit for a civilized man,
nothing but Thames water to drink. No Falernian wine here, no going
ashore. Here and there a military camp lost in a wilderness, like a
needle in a bundle of hay--cold, fog, tempests, disease, exile, and
death,--death skulking in the air, in the water, in the bush. They must
have been dying like flies here. Oh yes--he did it. Did it very well,
too, no doubt, and without thinking much about it either, except
afterwards to brag of what he had gone through in his time, perhaps.
They were men enough to face the darkness. And perhaps he was cheered
by keeping his eye on a chance of promotion to the fleet at Ravenna
by-and-by, if he had good friends in Rome and survived the awful
climate. Or think of a decent young citizen in a toga--perhaps too
much dice, you know--coming out here in the train of some prefect, or
tax-gatherer, or trader even, to mend his fortunes. Land in a swamp,
march through the woods, and in some inland post feel the savagery, the
utter savagery, had closed round him,--all that mysterious life of the
wilderness that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, in the hearts of
wild men. There's no initiation either into such mysteries. He has to
live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is also detestable. And
it has a fascination, too, that goes to work upon him. The fascination
of the abomination--you know. Imagine the growing regrets, the longing
to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate."
He paused.
"Mind," he began again, lifting one arm from the elbow, the palm of the
hand outwards, so that, with his legs folded before him, he had the
pose of a Buddha preaching in European clothes and without a
lotus-flower--"Mind, none of us would feel exactly like this. What saves
us is efficiency--the devotion to efficiency. But these chaps were not
much account, really. They were no colonists; their administration was
merely a squeeze, and nothing more, I suspect. They were conquerors, and
for that you want only brute force--nothing to boast of, when you have
it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of
others. They grabbed what they could get for the sake of what was to
be got. It was just robbery with violence, aggravated murder on a great
scale, and men going at it blind--as is very proper for those who tackle
a darkness. The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking
it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter
noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too
much. What redeems it is the idea only. An idea at the back of it; not
a sentimental pretense but an idea; and an unselfish belief in the
idea--something you can set up, and bow down before, and offer a
sacrifice to...."
He broke off. Flames glided in the river, small green flames, red
flames, white flames, pursuing, overtaking, joining, crossing each
other--then separating slowly or hastily. The traffic of the great city
went on in the deepening night upon the sleepless river. We looked on,
waiting patiently--there was nothing else to do till the end of
the flood; but it was only after a long silence, when he said, in
a hesitating voice, "I suppose you fellows remember I did once turn
fresh-water sailor for a bit," that we knew we were fated, before
the ebb began to run, to hear about one of Marlow's inconclusive
experiences.
"I don't want to bother you much with what happened to me personally,"
he began, showing in this remark the weakness of many tellers of tales
who seem so often unaware of what their audience would best like to
hear; "yet to understand the effect of it on me you ought to know how I
got out there, what I saw, how I went up that river to the place where I
first met the poor chap. It was the farthest point of navigation and the
culminating point of my experience. It seemed somehow to throw a kind of
light on everything about me--and into my thoughts. It was somber enough
too--and pitiful--not extraordinary in any way--not very clear either.
No, not very clear. And yet it seemed to throw a kind of light.
"I had then, as you remember, just returned to London after a lot of
Indian Ocean, Pacific, China Seas--a regular dose of the East--six years
or so, and I was loafing about, hindering you fellows in your work and
invading your homes, just as though I had got a heavenly mission to
civilize you. It was very fine for a time, but after a bit I did get
tired of resting. Then I began to look for a ship--I should think the
hardest work on earth. But the ships wouldn't even look at me. And I got
tired of that game too.
"Now when I was a little chap I had a passion for maps. I would look for
hours at South America, or Africa, or Australia, and lose myself in all
the glories of exploration. At that time there were many blank spaces on
the earth, and when I saw one that looked particularly inviting on a map
(but they all look that) I would put my finger on it and say, 'When
I grow up I will go there.' The North Pole was one of these places, I
remember. Well, I haven't been there yet, and shall not try now. The
glamour's off. Other places were scattered about the Equator, and in
every sort of latitude all over the two hemispheres. I have been in some
of them, and... well, we won't talk about that. But there was one
yet--the biggest, the most blank, so to speak--that I had a hankering
after.
"True, by this time it was not a blank space any more. It had got filled
since my boyhood with rivers and lakes and names. It had ceased to be
a blank space of delightful mystery--a white patch for a boy to dream
gloriously over. It had become a place of darkness. But there was in it
one river especially, a mighty big river, that you could see on the map,
resembling an immense snake uncoiled, with its head in the sea, its
body at rest curving afar over a vast country, and its tail lost in the
depths of the land. And as I looked at the map of it in a shop-window,
it fascinated me as a snake would a bird--a silly little bird. Then I
remembered there was a big concern, a Company for trade on that river.
Dash it all! I thought to myself, they can't trade without using some
kind of craft on that lot of fresh water--steamboats! Why shouldn't I
try to get charge of one? I went on along Fleet Street, but could not
shake off the idea. The snake had charmed me.
"You understand it was a Continental concern, that Trading society; but
I have a lot of relations living on the Continent, because it's cheap
and not so nasty as it looks, they say.
"I am sorry to own I began to worry them. This was already a fresh
departure for me. I was not used to get things that way, you know. I
always went my own road and on my own legs where I had a mind to go. I
wouldn't have believed it of myself; but, then--you see--I felt somehow
I must get there by hook or by crook. So I worried them. The men said
'My dear fellow,' and did nothing. Then--would you believe it?--I tried
the women. I, Charlie Marlow, set the women to work--to get a job.
Heavens! Well, you see, the notion drove me. I had an aunt, a dear
enthusiastic soul. She wrote: 'It will be delightful. I am ready to do
anything, anything for you. It is a glorious idea. I know the wife of a
very high personage in the Administration, and also a man who has lots
of influence with,' &c., &c. She was determined to make no end of fuss
to get me appointed skipper of a river steamboat, if such was my fancy.
"I got my appointment--of course; and I got it very quick. It appears
the Company had received news that one of their captains had been killed
in a scuffle with the natives. This was my chance, and it made me the
more anxious to go. It was only months and months afterwards, when I
made the attempt to recover what was left of the body, that I heard the
original quarrel arose from a misunderstanding about some hens. Yes,
two black hens. Fresleven--that was the fellow's name, a Dane--thought
himself wronged somehow in the bargain, so he went ashore and started to
hammer the chief of the village with a stick. Oh, it didn't surprise
me in the least to hear this, and at the same time to be told that
Fresleven was the gentlest, quietest creature that ever walked on two
legs. No doubt he was; but he had been a couple of years already out
there engaged in the noble cause, you know, and he probably felt the
need at last of asserting his self-respect in some way. Therefore he
whacked the old <DW65> mercilessly, while a big crowd of his people
watched him, thunderstruck, till some man,--I was told the chief's
son,--in desperation at hearing the old chap yell, made a tentative jab
with a spear at the white man--and of course it went quite easy between
the shoulder-blades. Then the whole population cleared into the forest,
expecting all kinds of calamities to happen, while, on the other hand,
the steamer Fresleven commanded left also in a bad panic, in charge of
the engineer, I believe. Afterwards nobody seemed to trouble much
about Fresleven's remains, till I got out and stepped into his shoes. I
couldn't let it rest, though; but when an opportunity offered at last to
meet my predecessor, the grass growing through his ribs was tall enough
to hide his bones. They were all there. The supernatural being had not
been touched after he fell. And the village was deserted, the huts gaped
black, rotting, all askew within the fallen enclosures. A calamity
had come to it, sure enough. The people had vanished. Mad terror had
scattered them, men, women, and children, through the bush, and they had
never returned. What became of the hens I don't know either. I should
think the cause of progress got them, anyhow. However, through this
glorious affair I got my appointment, before I had fairly begun to hope
for it.
"I flew around like mad to get ready, and before forty-eight hours I
was crossing the Channel to show myself to my employers, and sign the
contract. In a very few hours I arrived in a city that always makes me
think of a whited sepulcher. Prejudice no doubt. I had no difficulty in
finding the Company's offices. It was the biggest thing in the town,
and everybody I met was full of it. They were going to run an over-sea
empire, and make no end of coin by trade.
"A narrow and deserted street in deep shadow, high houses, innumerable
windows with venetian blinds, a dead silence, grass sprouting between
the stones, imposing carriage archways right and left, immense double
doors standing ponderously ajar. I slipped through one of these cracks,
went up a swept and ungarnished staircase, as arid as a desert, and
opened the first door I came to. Two women, one fat and the other slim,
sat on straw-bottomed chairs, knitting black wool. The slim one got up
and walked straight at me--still knitting with downcast eyes--and only
just as I began to think of getting out of her way, as you would for a
somnambulist, stood still, and looked up. Her dress was as plain as an
umbrella-cover, and she turned round without a word and preceded me
into a waiting-room. I gave my name, and looked about. Deal table in
the middle, plain chairs all round the walls, on one end a large shining
map, marked with all the colors of a rainbow. There was a vast amount of
red--good to see at any time, because one knows that some real work
is done in there, a deuce of a lot of blue, a little green, smears of
orange, and, on the East Coast, a purple patch, to show where the jolly
pioneers of progress drink the jolly lager-beer. However, I wasn't going
into any of these. I was going into the yellow. Dead in the center. And
the river was there--fascinating--deadly--like a snake. Ough! A door
opened, a white-haired secretarial head, but wearing a compassionate
expression, appeared, and a skinny forefinger beckoned me into the
sanctuary. Its light was dim, and a heavy writing-desk squatted in
the middle. From behind that structure came out an impression of pale
plumpness in a frock-coat. The great man himself. He was five feet
six, I should judge, and had his grip on the handle-end of ever so many
millions. He shook hands, I fancy, murmured vaguely, was satisfied with
my French. Bon voyage.
"In about forty-five seconds I found myself again in the waiting-room
with the compassionate secretary, who, full of desolation and sympathy,
made me sign some document. I believe I undertook amongst other things
not to disclose any trade secrets. Well, I am not going to.
"I began to feel slightly uneasy. You know I am not used to such
ceremonies, and there was something ominous in the atmosphere. It
was just as though I had been let into some conspiracy--I don't
know--something not quite right; and I was glad to get out. In the outer
room the two women knitted black wool feverishly. People were arriving,
and the younger one was walking back and forth introducing them. The
old one sat on her chair. Her flat cloth slippers were propped up on
a foot-warmer, and a cat reposed on her lap. She wore a starched
white affair on her head, had a wart on one cheek, and silver-rimmed
spectacles hung on the tip of her nose. She glanced at me above the
glasses. The swift and indifferent placidity of that look troubled me.
Two youths with foolish and cheery countenances were being piloted over,
and she threw at them the same quick glance of unconcerned wisdom. She
seemed to know all about them and about me too. An eerie feeling came
over me. She seemed uncanny and fateful. Often far away there I thought
of these two, guarding the door of Darkness, knitting black wool as for
a warm pall, one introducing, introducing continuously to the unknown,
the other scrutinizing the cheery and foolish faces with unconcerned old
eyes. Ave! Old knitter of black wool. Morituri te salutant. Not many of
those she looked at ever saw her again--not half, by a long way.
"There was yet a visit to the doctor. 'A simple formality,' assured me
the secretary, with an air of taking an immense part in all my sorrows.
Accordingly a young chap wearing his hat over the left eyebrow, some
clerk I suppose,--there must have been clerks in the business, though
the house was as still as a house in a city of the dead,--came from
somewhere up-stairs, and led me forth. He was shabby and careless, with
ink-stains on the sleeves of his jacket, and his cravat was large and
billowy, under a chin shaped like the toe of an old boot. It was a
little too early for the doctor, so I proposed a drink, and thereupon he
developed a vein of joviality. As we sat over our vermouths he glorified
the Company's business, and by-and-by I expressed casually my surprise
at him not going out there. He became very cool and collected all at
once. 'I am not such a fool as I look, quoth Plato to his disciples,'
he said sententiously, emptied his glass with great resolution, and we
rose.
"The old doctor felt my pulse, evidently thinking of something else
the while. 'Good, good for there,' he mumbled, and then with a certain
eagerness asked me whether I would let him measure my head. Rather
surprised, I said Yes, when he produced a thing like calipers and got
the dimensions back and front and every way, taking notes carefully. He
was an unshaven little man in a threadbare coat like a gaberdine, with
his feet in slippers, and I thought him a harmless fool. 'I always ask
leave, in the interests of science, to measure the crania of those going
out there,' he said. 'And when they come back, too?' I asked. 'Oh, I
never see them,' he remarked; 'and, moreover, the changes take place
inside, you know.' He smiled, as if at some quiet joke. 'So you are
going out there. Famous. Interesting too.' He gave me a searching
glance, and made another note. 'Ever any madness in your family?' he
asked, in a matter-of-fact tone. I felt very annoyed. 'Is that question
in the interests of science too?' 'It would be,' he said, without taking
notice of my irritation, 'interesting for science to watch the mental
changes of individuals, on the spot, but...' 'Are you an alienist?' I
interrupted. 'Every doctor should be--a little,' | 2,176.653066 |
2023-11-16 18:53:21.0257180 | 7,435 | 6 |
Produced by Turgut Dincer, Charlie Howard, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
NAPOLEON
[Illustration]
[Illustration: _Napoleon._
_From a portrait by Lassalle._]
NAPOLEON
A Sketch of
HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, STRUGGLES, AND
ACHIEVEMENTS
BY
THOMAS E. WATSON
AUTHOR OF “THE STORY OF FRANCE,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS AND FACSIMILES_
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1903
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1902,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped February, 1902. Reprinted May, 1902; January,
1903.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
TO MY WIFE
Georgia Durham Watson
PREFACE
In this volume the author has made the effort to portray Napoleon as he
appears to an average man. Archives have not been rummaged, new sources
of information have not been discovered; the author merely claims to
have used such authorities, old and new, as are accessible to any
diligent student. No attempt has been made to give a full and detailed
account of Napoleon’s life or work. To do so would have required the
labor of a decade, and the result would be almost a library. The
author _has_ tried to give to the great Corsican his proper historical
position, his true rating as a man and a ruler,--together with a just
estimate of his achievements.
THOMSON, GEORGIA,
Dec. 24, 1901.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. CORSICA 1
II. BOYHOOD 17
III. LIEUTENANT 37
IV. REVOLUTION 47
V. RETURNS HOME 58
VI. FIRST SERVICE 70
VII. AT MARSEILLES 86
VIII. 13TH OF VENDÉMIAIRE 94
IX. THE YOUNG REPUBLIC 115
X. JOSEPHINE 123
XI. THE ARMY OF ITALY 135
XII. MILAN 148
XIII. MANTUA 159
XIV. CAMPO FORMIO 175
XV. JOSEPHINE AT MILAN 188
XVI. EGYPT 196
XVII. THE SIEGE OF ACRE 211
XVIII. THE RETURN TO FRANCE 221
XIX. THE REMOVAL OF THE COUNCILS 230
XX. THE FALL OF THE DIRECTORY 242
XXI. FIRST CONSUL 256
XXII. MARENGO 275
XXIII. THE CODE NAPOLÉON 294
XXIV. PLOT AND CONSPIRACY 310
XXV. EMPEROR 329
XXVI. DISTRIBUTION OF HONORS 349
XXVII. JENA 355
XXVIII. ENTRY INTO BERLIN 363
XXIX. WARSAW 372
XXX. HABITS AND CHARACTERISTICS 386
XXXI. HIGH-WATER MARK 412
XXXII. SPAIN 425
XXXIII. WAGRAM 435
XXXIV. THE DIVORCE 450
XXXV. MOSCOW 470
XXXVI. THE RETREAT 491
XXXVII. IN PARIS AGAIN 502
XXXVIII. METTERNICH 514
XXXIX. DRESDEN AND LEIPSIC 523
XL. RETREAT FROM LEIPSIC 543
XLI. THE FRANKFORT PROPOSALS 557
XLII. THE FALL OF PARIS 571
XLIII. ELBA 583
XLIV. ELBA 598
XLV. LOUIS XVIII 612
XLVI. THE RETURN FROM ELBA 628
XLVII. REORGANIZATION 635
XLVIII. WATERLOO 647
XLIX. WATERLOO 657
L. ST. HELENA 672
LI. ST. HELENA 687
INDEX 705
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
NAPOLEON. From a portrait by Lassalle _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
NAPOLEON. From an engraving by Tomkins of a drawing from life
during the campaign in Italy 70
LETTER FROM NAPOLEON TO GENERAL CARTEAUX, DATED AT TOULON. In
facsimile 80
NAPOLEON. From a print in the collection of Mr. W. C. Crane.
The original engraving by G. Fiesinger, after a miniature
by Jean-Baptiste-Paulin Guérin. Deposited in the National
Library, Paris, 1799 136
LETTER FROM NAPOLEON IN ITALY TO JOSEPHINE. In facsimile 160
JOSEPHINE IN 1800. From a pastel by P. P. Prud’hon 188
NAPOLEON. From the painting by Paul Delaroche entitled “General
Buonaparte crossing the Alps” 200
NAPOLEON AS FIRST CONSUL, AT MALMAISON. From a painting by
J. B. Isabey 256
JOSEPHINE IN 1809. From a water-color by Isabey 338
MARIA LOUISA. From the portrait by Gérard in the Louvre 460
LETTER FROM NAPOLEON TO COUNTESS WALEWSKI, DATED APRIL 16,
1814. In facsimile 562
THE KING OF ROME. From the painting by Sir T. Lawrence 690
NAPOLEON
CHAPTER I
Corsica, an island in the Mediterranean Sea, has an extreme width of
52 miles and length of 116. It is within easy reach of Italy, France,
Spain, Sardinia, and the African coast. Within 54 miles lies Tuscany,
while Genoa is distant but 98, and the French coast at Nice is 106.
Across the island strides a chain of mountains, dividing it into two
nearly equal parts. The <DW72>s of the hills are covered with dense
forests of gigantic pines and chestnuts, and on their summits rests
eternal snow. Down from these highlands rapid streams run to the sea.
There are many beautiful valleys and many fine bays and harbors.
The population of the island was, in the eighteenth century, about
130,000. The Italian type predominated. In religion it was Roman
Catholic.
The history of Corsica has been wonderfully dramatic. Peopled
originally by the Celts, perhaps, the island has been so often
war-swept, so often borne down under the rush of stronger nations,
that the native race almost disappeared. The Greeks from Asia Minor,
back in the dim ages, seized upon a part of the coast and colonized
it. Carthage, in her day of greatness, was its mistress; and then
came Rome, whose long period of supremacy left its stamp upon the
people, bringing as it did multitudes of Italians, with their language,
customs, and religion.
After the day of Rome came Germans, Byzantine Greeks, Moors, Goths,
Vandals, and Longobards. For centuries the island was torn by incessant
war, the Corsicans doing their utmost to keep themselves free from
foreign masters. The feudal system was fastened upon the struggling
people by the chiefs of the invaders. The crags were crowned with
castles, and half-savage feudal lords ruled by the law of their own
fierce lusts. They waged war upon each other, they ground down the
native races. Unable to defend themselves, miserably poor, but full of
desperate courage, the Corsicans fled from the coasts to escape the
pirate, and to the mountains to resist the feudal robber. In their
distress the peasants found a leader in Sambuccio, who organized them
into village communities,--a democratic, self-ruling confederation.
There were no serfs, no slaves, in Corsica; freedom and equality the
people claimed and fought for; and under Sambuccio they totally routed
the barons.
The great leader died; the barons took up arms again; the peasants
appealed to the margrave of Tuscany for aid; an army came from Italy,
the barons were beaten, and the village confederation restored. From
A.D. 1020 to A.D. 1070, Tuscany protected the Corsicans; but the popes,
having looked upon the land with eyes of desire, claimed it for the
Church, and, through skilful manipulations (such as are common in
cases of that kind), the people were persuaded to submit. In the year
1098 Pope Urban II. sold the island to Pisa, and for one hundred years
Corsica remained under the dominion of that republic.
Genoa, however, envied Pisa this increase of territory, claimed the
island for herself, and backed her claim by arms. Corsica was rent by
the struggle, and the Corsicans themselves were divided into hostile
camps, one favoring Pisa, the other Genoa.
The leader of the Pisan faction, Guidice della Rocca, kept up, for
many years, an unequal struggle, showing wonderful courage, fertility
of resource, rigorous justice, and rare clemency. He killed his own
nephew for having outraged a female prisoner for whose safety he, Della
Rocca, had given his word. Old and blind, this hero was betrayed by his
bastard son, delivered to the Genoese, and died in a wretched Genoese
dungeon; and with his downfall passed away the Pisan sovereignty.
A period of anarchy followed the death of Della Rocca. The barons were
unmerciful in their extortions, and the people were reduced to extreme
misery. After many years appeared another valiant patriot of the Rocca
race, Arrigo della Rocca (1392). He raised the standard of revolt, and
the people rallied to him. He beat the Genoese, was proclaimed Count of
Corsica, and ruled the land for four years. Defeated at length by the
Genoese, he went to Spain to ask aid. Returning with a small force, he
routed his enemies and became again master of the island. Genoa sent
another army, Arrigo della Rocca was poisoned (1401), and in the same
year Genoa submitted to France.
Corsica kept up the struggle for independence. Vincentello, nephew
of Arrigo della Rocca, was made Count of Corsica, and for two years
maintained a gallant contest. Genoa poured in more troops, and the
resistance was crushed. Vincentello left the island. Soon returning
with help from Aragon, he reconquered the county with the exception of
the strongholds of Calvi and Bonifaccio. Inspired by the success of
Vincentello, the young king of Aragon, Alfonso, came in person with
large forces to complete the conquest. Calvi was taken, but Bonifaccio
resisted all efforts. The place was strongly Genoese, and for months
the endurance of its defenders was desperately heroic. Women and
children and priests joined with those who manned the walls, and all
fought together. Spanish courage was balked, Spanish pride humbled, and
Alfonso sailed away. Vincentello, bereft of allies, lost ground. He
gave his own cause a death-blow by abusing a girl whose kinsmen rose to
avenge the wrong. The guilty man and indomitable patriot determined to
seek aid once more in Spain; but Genoa captured him at sea, and struck
off his head on the steps of her ducal palace (1434).
Then came anarchy in Corsica again. The barons fought, the peasants
suffered. Law was dead. Only the dreaded vendetta ruled--the law of
private vengeance. So harried were the people by continued feuds,
rival contentions, and miscellaneous tumult, that they met in general
assembly and decided to put themselves under the protection of the
bank of St. George of Genoa. The bank agreed to receive this singular
deposit (1453). The Corsican nobles resisted the bank, and terrible
scenes followed. Many a proud baron had his head struck off, many of
them left the country. Aragon favored the nobles, and they came back to
renew the fight, defeat the forces of the bank, and reconquer most of
the island.
In 1464 Francesco Sforza of Milan took Genoa, and claimed Corsica as
a part of his conquest. The islanders preferred Milan to Genoa, and
but for an accidental brawl, peaceful terms might have been arranged.
But the brawl occurred, and there was no peace. Years of war, rapine,
and universal wretchedness followed. Out of the murk appears a valiant
figure, Giampolo, taking up with marvellous tenacity and fortitude the
old fight of Corsica against oppression. After every defeat, he rose to
fight again. He never left the field till Corsican rivalry weakened and
ruined him. Then, defiant to the last, he went the way of the outlaw to
die in exile.
Renuccio della Rocca’s defection had caused Giampolo to fail. After a
while Rocca himself led the revolt against Genoa, and was overthrown.
He left the island, but came again, and yet again, to renew the
hopeless combat. Finally his own peasants killed him to put an end
to the miserable war, there being no other method of turning the
indomitable man (1511).
Resistance over, the bank of Genoa governed the island. The barons
were broken, their castles fell to ruin. The common people kept up
their local home-rule, enjoyed a share in the government, and were in
a position much better than that of the common people in other parts
of Europe. But the bank was not satisfied to let matters rest there; a
harsh spirit soon became apparent; and the privileges which the people
had enjoyed were suppressed.
Against this tyranny rose now the strongest leader the Corsicans had
yet found, Sampiero. Humbly born, this man had in his youth sought
adventures in foreign lands. He had served the House of Medici, and in
Florence became known for the loftiness and energy of his character.
Afterward he served King Francis I., of France, by whom he was made
colonel of the Corsican regiment which he had formed. Bayard was his
friend, and Charles of Bourbon said of him, “In the day of battle the
Corsican colonel is worth ten thousand men”; just as another great
warrior, Archduke Charles of Austria, said of another great Corsican,
serving then in France (1814), “Napoleon himself is equal to one
hundred thousand men.”
In 1547 Sampiero went back to Corsica to select a wife. So well
established was his renown that he was given the only daughter of the
Lord of Ornano, the beautiful Vannina. The bank of Genoa, alarmed by
the presence of such a man in the island, threw him into prison. His
father-in-law, Francesco Ornano, secured his release.
Genoa, since her delivery from French dominion by Andrea Doria, was in
league with the Emperor of Germany, with whom the French king and the
Turks were at war. Hence it was that Sampiero could induce France and
her allies to attack the Genoese in Corsica. In 1553 came Sampiero, the
French, and the Turks; and all Corsica, save Calvi and Bonifaccio, fell
into the hands of the invaders. Bonifaccio was besieged in vain, until,
by a stratagem, it was taken. Then the Turks, indignant that Sampiero
would not allow them to plunder the city and put all the Genoese to the
sword, abandoned the cause, and sailed away. Calvi still held out. The
Emperor sent an army of Germans and Spaniards; Cosmo de Medici also
sent troops; Andrea Doria took command, and the French were everywhere
beaten. Sampiero quarrelled with the incapable French commander, went
to France to defend himself from false reports, made good his purpose,
then returned to the island, where he became the lion of the struggle.
He beat the enemy in two pitched battles, and kept up a successful
contest for six years. Then came a crushing blow. By the treaty of
Cambray, France agreed with Spain that Corsica should be given back to
Genoa.
Under this terrible disaster, Sampiero did not despair. Forced to leave
the island, he wandered from court to court on the continent, seeking
aid. For four years he went this dreary round,--to France, to Navarre,
to Florence. He even went to Algiers and to Constantinople. During this
interval it was that Genoa deceived and entrapped Vannina, the wife
of the hero. She left her home and put herself in the hands of his
enemies. One of Sampiero’s relatives was fool enough to say to him, “I
had long expected this.”--“And you concealed it!” cried Sampiero in a
fury, striking his relative to the heart with a dagger. Vannina was
pursued and caught, Sampiero killed her with his own hand.
Failing in his efforts to obtain foreign help, the hero came back to
Corsica to make the fight alone (1564). With desperate courage he
marched from one small victory to another until Genoa was thoroughly
aroused. An army of German and Italian mercenaries was sent over,
and the command given to an able general, Stephen Doria. The war
assumed the most sanguinary character. Genoa seemed bent on utterly
exterminating the Corsicans and laying waste the entire country.
Sampiero rose to the crisis; and while he continued to beseech France
for aid, he continued to fight with savage ferocity. He beat Doria
in several encounters, and finally, in the pass of Luminada, almost
annihilated the enemy. Doria, in despair, left the island, and Sampiero
remained master of the field. With his pitifully small forces he had
foiled the Spanish fleet, fifteen thousand Spanish soldiers, and an
army of mercenaries; and had in succession beaten the best generals
Genoa could send. All this he had done with half-starved, half-armed
peasants, whose only strength lay in the inspiration of their
patriotism and the unconquerable spirit of their leader. Few stronger
men have lived and loved, hoped and dared, fought and suffered, than
this half-savage hero of Corsica. With all the world against him
Sampiero fought without fear, as another great Corsican was to do.
In open fight he was not to be crushed: on this his enemies were
agreed, therefore treachery was tried. Genoa bribed some of the
Corsican chiefs; Vannina’s cousins were roused to seek revenge;
Vittolo, a trusted lieutenant, turned against his chief; and a monk,
whom Sampiero could not suspect, joined the conspirators. The monk
delivered forged letters to Sampiero, which led him to the ambuscade
where his foes lay in wait. He fought like the lion he was. Wounded in
the face, he wiped the blood out of his eyes with one hand while his
sword was wielded by the other. Vittolo shot him in the back, and the
Ornanos rushed upon the dying man, and cut off his head (1567).
The fall of Sampiero created intense satisfaction in Genoa, where there
were bell-ringings and illuminations. In Corsica it aroused the people
to renewed exertions; but the effort was fitful, for the leader was
dead. In a great meeting at Orezzo, where three thousand patriots wept
for the lost hero, they chose his son Alfonso their commander-in-chief.
After a struggle of two years, in which the youth bore himself bravely,
he made peace and left the country. Accompanied by many companions
in arms, he went to France, formed his followers into a Corsican
regiment, of which Charles the Ninth appointed him colonel. Other
Corsicans, taking refuge in Rome, formed themselves into the Pope’s
Corsican guard.
Thrown back into the power of Genoa, Corsica suffered all the ills of
the oppressed. Wasted by war, famine, plague, misgovernment, a more
wretched land was not to be found. Deprived of its privileges, drained
of its resources, ravaged by Turks and pillaged by Christians, it bled
also from family feuds. The courts being corrupt, the vendetta raged
with fury. In many parts of the country, agriculture and peaceful
pursuits were abandoned. And this frightful condition prevailed for
half a century.
The Genoese administration became ever more unbearable. A tax of twelve
dollars was laid on every hearth. The governors of the island were
invested with the power to condemn to death without legal forms or
proceedings.
One day, a poor old man of Bustancio went to the Genoese collector
to pay his tax. His money was a little short of the amount due--a
penny or so. The official refused to receive what was offered, and
threatened to punish the old man if he did not pay the full amount.
The ancient citizen went away grumbling. To his neighbors, as he met
them, he told his trouble. He complained and wept. They sympathized and
wept. Frenzied by his own wrongs, the old man began to denounce the
Genoese generally,--their tyranny, cruelty, insolence, and oppression.
Crowds gathered, the excitement grew, insurrectionary feelings spread
throughout the land. Soon the alarm bells were rung, and the war
trumpet sounded from mountain to mountain. This was in October, 1729.
A war of forty years ensued. Genoa hired a large body of Germans from
the Emperor, and eight thousand of these mercenaries landed in Corsica.
At first they beat the ill-armed islanders, who marched to battle bare
of feet and head. But in 1732 the Germans were almost destroyed in the
battle of Calenzala. Genoa called on the Emperor for more hirelings.
They were sent; but before any decisive action had taken place, there
arrived orders from the Emperor to make peace. Corsica had appealed
to him against Genoa, and he had decided that the Corsicans had been
wronged. Corsica submitted to Genoa, but her ancient privileges were
restored, taxes were remitted, and other reforms promised.
No sooner had the Germans left the island than Genoese and Corsicans
fell to fighting again. Under Hyacinth Paoli and Giafferi, the brave
islanders defeated the Genoese, at all points; and Corsica, for the
moment, stood redeemed.
In 1735 the people held a great meeting at Corte and proclaimed their
independence. A government was organized, and the people were declared
to be the only source of the laws.
Genoa exerted all her power to put down the revolt. The island was
blockaded, troops poured in, the best generals were sent. The situation
of the Corsicans was desperate. They stood in need of almost everything
requisite to their defence, except brave men. The blockade cut off any
hope of getting aid from abroad. English sympathizers sent two vessels
laden with supplies, and keen was the joy of the poor islanders. With
the munitions thus obtained they stormed and took Alesia.
But their distress was soon extreme again, and the struggle hopeless.
At this, the darkest hour, came a very curious episode. A German
adventurer, Theodore de Neuhoff, a baron of Westphalia, entering the
port with a single ship, under the British flag, offered himself to the
Corsicans as their king. Promises of the most exhilarating description
he made as to the men, money, munitions of war he could bring to
Corsican relief. Easily believing what was so much to their interest,
and perhaps attaching too much importance to the three English ships
which had recently brought them supplies, the Corsican chiefs actually
accepted Neuhoff for their king.
The compact between King Theodore and the Corsicans was gravely reduced
to writing, signed, sealed, sworn to, and delivered. Then they all
went into the church, held solemn religious services, and crowned
Theodore with a circlet of oak and laurel leaves. Theodore took himself
seriously, went to work with zeal, appointed high dignitaries of the
crown, organized a court, created an order of knighthood, and acted as
if he were a king indeed. He marched against the oppressors, fought
like a madman, gained some advantages, and began to make the situation
look gloomy to the Genoese.
Resorting to a detestable plan, they turned loose upon the island a
band of fifteen hundred bandits, galley-slaves, and outlaws. These
villains made havoc wherever they went. In the meantime, the Corsican
chiefs began to be impatient about the succors which Theodore had
promised. Evasions and fresh assurances answered for a while, but
finally matters reached a crisis. Theodore was told, with more or less
pointedness, that either the succors must come or that he must go. To
avoid a storm, he went, saying that he would soon return with the
promised relief. Paoli and the other Corsican chiefs realized that in
catching at the straw this adventurer had held out to them, they had
made themselves and Corsica ridiculous. They accordingly laid heavy
blame on Theodore.
Cardinal Fleury, a good old Christian man, who was at this time (1737)
minister of France, came forward with a proposition to interfere in
behalf of Genoa, and reduce the Corsicans to submission. Accordingly
French troops were landed (1738), and the islanders rose _en masse_ to
resist. Bonfires blazed, bells clanged, war trumpets brayed. The whole
population ran to arms. The French were in no haste to fight, and for
six months negotiations dragged along. Strange to say, the Corsicans,
in their misery, gave hostages to the French, and agreed to trust
their cause to the king of France. At this stage who should enter but
Theodore! The indefatigable man had ransacked Europe, hunting sympathy
for Corsica, and had found it where Americans found it in a similar
hour of need--in Holland. He had managed to bring with him several
vessels laden with cannon, small arms, powder, lead, lances, flints,
bombs, and grenades. The Corsican people received him with delight,
and carried him in triumph to Cervione, where he had been crowned; but
the chiefs bore him no good-will, and told him that circumstances had
changed. Terms must be made with France; Corsica could not at this time
accept him as king--oaths, religious services, and written contract to
the contrary notwithstanding. Theodore sadly sailed away.
The appeal to the French king resulted in the treaty of Versailles,
by whose terms some concessions were made to the Corsicans, who were
positively commanded to lay down their arms and submit to Genoa.
Corsica resisted, but was overcome by France. In 1741 the French
withdrew from the island, and almost immediately war again raged
between Corsican and Genoese.
In 1748 King Theodore reappeared, bringing munitions of war which
the island greatly needed. He seems to have succeeded in getting the
Corsicans to accept his supplies, but they showed no inclination to
accept himself. Once again he departed--to return no more. The gallant,
generous adventurer went to London, where his creditors threw him into
prison. The minister, Walpole, opened a subscription which secured his
release. He died in England, and was buried in St. Anne’s churchyard,
London, December, 1756.
Peace was concluded between Genoa and Corsica, whose privileges were
restored. For two years quiet reigned. Family feuds then broke out, and
the island was thrown into confusion. Following this came a general
rising against the Genoese, in which the English and Sardinians aided
the Corsicans. Genoa applied to France, which sent an army. Dismayed
by the appearance of the French, the island came to terms. Cursay, the
commander of the French, secured for the unfortunate people the most
favorable treaty they had ever obtained. Dissatisfied with Cursay, the
Genoese prevailed on France to recall him. Whereupon the Corsicans rose
in arms, Gaffori being their chief. He displayed the genius and the
courage of Sampiero, met with the success of the earlier hero, and like
him fell by treachery. Enticed into an ambuscade, Gaffori was slain
by Corsicans, his own brother being one of the assassins. The fall
of the leader did not dismay the people. They chose other leaders,
and continued the fight. Finally, in July, 1755, the celebrated
Paschal Paoli was chosen commander-in-chief. At this time he was but
twenty-four years old. Well educated, mild, firm, clear-headed, and
well balanced, he was very much more of a statesman than a warrior. His
first measure, full of wisdom, was the abolition of the vendetta.
Mainly by the help of his brother Clemens, Paoli crushed a rival
Corsican, Matra, and established himself firmly as ruler of the island.
Under his administration it flourished and attracted the admiring
attention of all European liberals. Genoa, quite exhausted, appealed
to France, but was given little help. As a last resort, treachery was
tried: Corsican was set against Corsican. The Matra family was resorted
to, and brothers of him who had led the first revolt against Paoli took
the field at the head of Genoese troops. They were defeated.
Genoa again turned to France, and on August 6, 1764, was signed an
agreement by which Corsica was ceded to France for four years. French
garrisons took possession of the few places which Genoa still held.
During the four years Choiseul, the French minister, prepared the way
for the annexation of Corsica to France. As ever before, there were
Corsicans who could be used against Corsica. Buttafuoco, a noble of
the island, professed himself a convert to the policy of annexation.
He became Choiseul’s apostle for the conversion of others. So adroitly
did he work with bribes and other inducements, that Corsica was soon
divided against herself. A large party declared in favor of the
incorporation of the island with France. In 1768 the Genoese realized
that their dominion was gone. A bargain was made between two corrupt
and despotic powers by which the one sold to the other an island it
did not own, a people it could not conquer,--an island and a people
whose government was at that moment a model of wisdom, justice, and
enlightened progress. Alone of all the people of Europe, Corsica
enjoyed self-government, political and civil freedom, righteous laws,
and honest administration. Commerce, agriculture, manufactures, had
sprung into new life under Paoli’s guidance, schools had been founded,
religious toleration decreed, liberty of speech and conscience
proclaimed. After ages of combat against awful odds, the heroic people
had won freedom, and, by the manner in which it was used, proved that
they had deserved to win it. Such were the people who were bargained
for and bought by Choiseul, the minister of France, at and for the sum
of $400,000. The Bourbons had lost to England an empire beyond seas--by
this act of perfidy and brutality they hoped to recover some of their
lost grandeur.
Terrible passions raged in Corsica when this infamous bargain became
known. The people flew to arms, and their wrongs sent a throb of
sympathy far into many lands. But France sent troops by the tens of
thousands; and while the Corsicans accomplished wonders, they could not
beat foes who outnumbered them so heavily. Paoli was a faithful chief,
vigilant and brave, but he was no Sampiero. His forces were crushed at
Ponte Nuovo on June 12, 1769, and Corsica laid down her arms. The long
chapter was ended, and one more wrong triumphant.
Chief among the painful features of the drama was that Buttafuoco and a
few other Cors | 2,177.045758 |
2023-11-16 18:53:21.0259730 | 5,825 | 14 |
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
* Obvious printer errors have been silently corrected.
* Original spelling was kept.
* Variant spellings were made consistent when a predominant usage
was found.
* Italics are represented between underscores as in _italics_.
* Small caps are represented in upper case as in SMALL CAPS.
* Illustrations have been slightly moved so that they do not
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* Illustration captions have been harmonized and made consistent
so that the same expressions appear both in them and in the
List of Full Page Illustrations.
[Illustration: THE QUEEN OF SHEBA.
_Frontispiece & Page 309._]
THE ADVENTURES
OF
CAPTAIN MAGO
OR
_A Phœnician Expedition_
B.C. 1000
BY
LÉON CAHUN
_ILLUSTRATED BY P. PHILIPPOTEAUX, AND TRANSLATED FROM
THE FRENCH BY ELLEN E. FREWER_
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1889
TROW'S
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
NEW YORK.
PREFACE.
The following pages pretend to no original or scientific research. It
is their object to present, in a popular form, a picture of the world
as it was a thousand years before the Christian Era, and to exhibit,
mainly for the young, a summary of that varied information which is
contained in books, many of which by their high price and exclusively
technical character are generally unattainable.
* * * * *
It would only have encumbered the fictitious narrative, which is the
vehicle for conveying the instruction that is designed, to crowd
every page with references; but it may be alleged, once for all, that
for every statement which relates to the history of the period, and
especially to the history of the Phœnicians, ample authority might
be quoted from some one or other of the valuable books which have
been consulted.
Of the most important of these a list is here appended:--
1. F. C. MOVERS. Das Phönizische Alterthum.
2. RENAN. Mission en Phénicie.
3. DAUX. Recherches sur les Emporia phéniciens dans le Zeugis
et le Byzacium.
4. NATHAN DAVIS. Carthage and her Remains.
5. WILKINSON. Manners and Customs of Ancient Egyptians.
6. HŒCKH. Kreta.
7. GROTE. History of Greece.
8. MOMMSEN. Geschichte der Römischen Republik (Introduction and
Chap. I.).
9. BOURGUIGNAT. Monuments mégalithiques du nord de l'Afrique.
10. FERGUSSON. Rude Stone Monuments.
11. BROCA and A. BERTRAND. Celtes, Gaulois et Francs.
12. ABBÉ BARGÈS. Interprétation d'une inscription phénicienne
trouvée à Marseille.
13. LAYARD. Nineveh and its Remains.
14. BOTTA. Fouilles de Babylone.
15. REUSS. New translation of the Bible, in course of
publication.
A few foot-notes are subjoined by way of illustration of what might
have been carried on throughout the volume; and an Appendix will be
found at the end, containing some explanation of topics which the
continuity of the fiction necessarily left somewhat obscure.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I.--WHY BODMILCAR, THE TYRIAN SAILOR, HATES HANNO,
THE SIDONIAN SCRIBE 1
II.--THE SACRIFICE TO ASHTORETH 19
III.--CHAMAI RECOGNISED BY THE ATTENDANT OF THE
SLAVE 44
IV.--KING DAVID 61
V.--PHARAOH ARRIVES TOO LATE 76
VI.--CRETE AND THE CRETANS 98
VII.--CHRYSEIS PREFERS HANNO TO A KING 112
VIII.--AN AFFAIR WITH THE PHOCIANS 132
IX.--THE LAND OF OXEN 148
X.--GISGO THE EARLESS RECOVERS HIS EARS 166
XI.--OUR HEADS ARE IN PERIL 175
XII.--I CONSULT THE ORACLE 196
XIII.--THE SILVER MINES OF TARSHISH 207
XIV.--AN AMBUSCADE 219
XV.--JUDGE GEBAL DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF 234
XVI.--PERILS OF THE OCEAN 243
XVII.--JONO, THE GOD OF THE SUOMI 260
XVIII.--JONAH WAXES AMBITIOUS 277
XIX.--BODMILCAR AGAIN 287
XX.--THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN 295
XXI.--THE QUEEN OF SHEBA 307
XXII.--BELESYS FINDS BICHRI SOMEWHAT HEAVY 314
XXIII.--WE SETTLE OUR ACCOUNTS WITH BODMILCAR 327
LIST OF FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
THE QUEEN OF SHEBA Frontispiece & 309
HANNO PROCEEDED TO DRAW UP THE ARTICLES 8
HANNO CAUGHT UP A LARGE PITCHER 11
MY SALUTE 45
THE IONIAN COMMENCED ONE OF THE SONGS OF HER
NATIVE LAND 52
SHORTLY BEFORE SUNSET WE REACHED JERUSALEM 63
WAITING FOR THE KING TO SPEAK 67
"DOWN, YOU PHŒNICIAN THIEVES!" 85
THE SOLDIERS RAPIDLY CROSSED THEIR LANCES 86
PLEASED WITH HIS MORNING'S WORK 99
"THE MELKARTH!" 106
BORNE TO ITS RESTING-PLACE 121
HOMER 129
UNAWARES IN AN AMBUSH 132
HANNO AND CHRYSEIS BESPEAK THEIR ATTENTION 140
"IF YOU ADVANCE ONE STEP BEYOND THIS LANCE" 152
CLOSE TO ETNA 163
UTICA 187
A HUGE ELEPHANT WAS BEING LED PAST 191
I PROSTRATED MYSELF THREE TIMES 202
AN AVALANCHE OF STONES 220
NO QUARTER 222
ON THE VERY POINT OF SLAYING THE CHILD 228
THE DESPICABLE SYRIAN 229
I DID WHAT I COULD TO CONSOLE HASDRUBAL 247
JUDGE GEBAL 248
BICHRI AND DIONYSOS BROUGHT THEM BOTH DOWN 258
HE DASHED IT TO THE GROUND 262
SEVERAL OF THE SAVAGES ENTERED THE HUT 267
THE GOD JONO 275
BLOWING HIS TRUMPET 284
THE CHILD HAD FOUND THE LEAK 293
IT SNAPPED A PIKE-STAFF IN TWO 301
IN HONOUR OF THEIR GENERAL 322
WE WERE COMMANDED TO HALT 324
HIMILCO AND GISGO IN ANIMATED CONVERSATION WITH
THE CHALDEAN SOLDIERS 327
MY ACCOUNT WAS SETTLED WITH BODMILCAR 335
_And Thirty-six smaller Text Illustrations._
THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN MAGO
CHAPTER I.
WHY BODMILCAR, THE TYRIAN SAILOR, HATES HANNO, THE SIDONIAN SCRIBE.
I am Captain Mago, and Hiram,[1] King of Tyre, was well aware that
my experience as a sailor was very great. It was in the third year
of his reign that he summoned me to his presence from Sidon,[2] the
city of fishermen, and the metropolis of the Phœnicians. He had
already been told of my long voyages; how I had visited Malta; how I
had traded to Bozrah,[3] the city founded by the Sidonians, but now
called Carthada[4] by the Tyrians; and how I had reached the remote
Gades in the land of Tarshish.[5]
[1] Hiram I. reigned from 980 to 947 B.C.
[2] Sidon, or Zidon, in the Phœnician tongue means "fishery."
[3] Bostra, or Bozrah; hence Byrsa, the citadel.
[4] Carthage, or Kart-Khadecht, the new city.
[5] Tarshish, the Tartessus of the Greeks, Spain.
The star of Sidon was now on the wane. The ships of Tyre were fast
occupying the sea, and her caravans were covering the land. A
monarchy had been established by the Tyrians, and their king, with
the _suffects_[6] as his coadjutors, was holding sway over all the
other cities of Phœnicia. The fortunes of Tyre were thus in the
ascendant: sailors and merchants from Sidon, Gebal, Arvad and Byblos
were continually enlisting themselves in the service of her powerful
corporations.
[6] Suffect, or _choupheth_ (plural _chophettim_), the Hebrew and
Phœnician magistrates preceding the monarchy.
When I had made my obeisance to King Hiram, he informed me that his
friend and ally, David, King of the Jews, was collecting materials
for the erection of a temple to his god Adonai (or _our Lord_) in the
city of Jerusalem, and that he was desirous of making his own royal
contribution to assist him. Accordingly he submitted to me that at
his expense I should fit out a sufficient fleet, and should undertake
a voyage to Tarshish, in order to procure a supply of silver, and
any other rare or valuable commodity which that land could yield, to
provide embellishment for the sumptuous edifice.
Anxious as I was already to revisit Tarshish and the lands of the
West, I entered most eagerly into the proposal of the King, assuring
him that I should require no longer time for preparation than what
was absolutely necessary to equip the ships and collect the crews.
It was still two months before the Feast of Spring, an annual
festival that marked the re-opening of navigation. This was an
interval sufficient for my purpose, for as the King directed me to
call first at Joppa, and to proceed thence to Jerusalem to receive
King David's instructions, I had no need for the present to concern
myself about anything further than my ships and sailors, knowing that
I could safely trust to the fertile and martial land of Judæa to
provide me with provisions and soldiers.
The King was highly gratified at my ready acquiescence in his
proposition. He instructed his treasurer to hand over to me at once
a thousand silver shekels[7] to meet preliminary expenses, and gave
orders to the authorities at the arsenal to allow me to select
whatever wood, hemp, or copper I might require.
[7] The silver shekel was the standard money of the
Phœnicians, and was worth about 2_s._ It was a tenth part of a
shekel of gold.
I took my leave of the King and rejoined Hanno my scribe and Himilco
my pilot, the latter of whom had been my constant associate on my
previous voyages. They were sitting on the side-bench at the great
gate of the palace, and had been impatiently awaiting my return,
mutually speculating upon the reason that had induced the King to
send for us from Sidon, and naturally conjecturing that it must
relate to some future enterprise and adventure. At the first glimpse
of my excited countenance, revealing my delight, Hanno exclaimed:
"Welcome back, master; surely the King has granted you some eager
longing of your heart!"
"True; and what do you suppose it is?" I asked.
"Perhaps a new ship to replace the one you lost in the Great Syrtes;
and perhaps a good freight into the bargain. No son of Sidon could
covet more than this."
"Yes, Hanno; this, and more beside," I answered. "But our good
fortune at once demands our vows; let us hasten to the temple of
Ashtoreth,[8] and there let us render our thanks to the goddess, and
sue for her protection and her favour to guard our vessels as we sail
to Joppa. To Joppa we go; and onwards thence to Tarshish!"
[8] Astarte. The Aphrodite of the Greeks; the goddess of
navigation, and the national deity of the Sidonians.
"Tarshish!" echoed the voice of Himilco, with a cry of ecstasy; and
as he spoke he raised up his sole remaining eye towards the skies;
he had lost the other in a naval fight. "Tarshish," he said again:
"O ye gods, that rule the destinies of ships! ye stars,[9] that so
oft have fixed my gaze in my weary watch on deck! here I offer to
you six shekels on the spot; 'tis all my means allow. But take me
to Tarshish, and vouchsafe that I may come across the villain whose
lance took out my eye, so that I may make him feel the point of my
Chalcidian sword below his ribs, and I vow that I will offer you in
sacrifice an ox, a noble ox, finer than Apis, the god of the idiot
Egyptians."
[9] The stars in the constellation of Ursa Major were also
tutelary deities of navigation; the pole-star by the Greeks being
called "the Phœnician."
Hanno was less demonstrative. "For my part," he said, "I shall be
satisfied if I can barter enough of the vile wine of Judæa, and the
cheap ware of Sidon, to get a good return of pure white silver.
I shall only be too pleased to build myself a mansion upon the
sea-shore where I can enjoy my pleasure-boat as it glides along with
its purple sails, and so to pass my days in ease and luxury."
"Remember, however," I replied, "that before you can get your lordly
mansion, we shall again and again have to sleep under the open sky
of the cheerless West; and before you arrive at all your luxury, you
will have to put up with many a coarse and meagre meal."
"All the more pleasant will be the retrospect," rejoined Hanno; "and
when we come to recline upon our costly couches it will be a double
joy to dwell upon our adventures, and relate them to our listening
guests."
Conversation of this character engaged us till we reached the
cypress-grove, from which the temple of Ashtoreth upreared its
silver-plated roof. The setting sun was all aglow, and cast its
slanting rays upon the fabric, illuminating alike the heavy gilding
and the radiant colours of the supporting pillars. Flocks of
consecrated doves fluttered in the sacred grove, alighting ever and
again upon the gilded rods that connected one pillar with another.
Groups of girls were frequently met, dressed in white, embroidered
with purple and silver, either hastening, pomegranates in their
hands, to make a votive offering at the shrine, or sauntering
leisurely in the sacred gardens. Ever and again, as the temple-doors
were opened, there was caught the distant melody of the sistra,
flutes, and tambourines, upon which the priests and priestesses
were celebrating the honour of their goddess. Such were the sounds,
the modulated measures of the music mingled with the soft cooings
of the doves and the joyous laughter of the heedless maidens, that
combined to make a mysterious murmur that could not fail to impress
the minds of such as us, rough mariners unaccustomed to anything
more harmonious than the groanings of the waves, the creaking of our
ships, and the howling of the wind.
I went with Himilco to consult the tariff of the sacrifices, which
was exhibited, engraven on a tablet and affixed to the feet of a
huge marble dove at the right-hand entrance to the precincts of the
temple. As my own offering, I selected some fruit and cakes, the
value of which did not exceed a shekel, and was just turning back
to call Hanno, when I encountered a man in a dirty and threadbare
sailor's coat, who was hurrying along, muttering bitter curses as he
went.
"Help me, Baal Chamaim, Lord of the heavens!" I involuntarily
exclaimed; "is not this Bodmilcar, the Tyrian?"
The man paused, and recognised me in a moment; and we exchanged the
warmest greetings.
Bodmilcar, whom I had thus unexpectedly met, had been one of my
oldest associates. Many a time, alike in expeditions of war and
commerce, he had commanded a vessel by my side. He was likewise
already acquainted with Himilco, who consequently shared my surprise
and regret at meeting him in so miserable a plight.
"What ill fate has brought you to this?" was my impatient inquiry.
"At Tyre you used to be the owner of a couple of gaouls[10] and four
good galleys; what has happened? What has brought it about that you
should be here in nothing better than a ragged kitonet?"[11]
[10] Gaoul, a round ship, employed in merchant service.
[11] Kitonet, a short tunic, worn by Phœnician sailors.
"Moloch's[12] heaviest curses be upon the Chaldeans!" ejaculated
Bodmilcar. "May their cock-head Nergal[13] torture and burn and roast
them all! My story is soon told. I had a cargo of slaves. A finer
cargo was never under weigh. The hold of my Tyrian gaoul carried
Caucasian men as strong as oxen, and Grecian girls as lissome as
reeds; there were Syrians who could cook, or play, or dress the hair;
there were peasants from Judæa who could train the vine or cultivate
the field. Their value was untold."
[12] Baal Moloch, the sun god.
[13] Nergal, the Chaldean god of fire and war, always represented
with a cock's head.
"And tell me, friend Bodmilcar," I inquired, "where are they now? Did
they not yield you the countless shekels on which you reckoned?"
"Now! where are they now?" shrieked out the excited man; "they are
every one upon their way to some cursed city of the Chaldeans, on the
other side of Rehoboth. Instead of shekels I have got plenty of kicks
and plenty of bruises, of which I shall carry the marks on my body
for a long time to come. The naval suffect gave me a few zeraas,[14]
just to relieve my distress, and had it not been for that, I should
not have had a morsel of bread to keep life in me. It is now three
days since I arrived in Tyre, and to get here I have been continually
walking, till my feet are so swollen I can hardly move."
[14] Zeraas, small copper coin.
"You mean you have walked here?" said Himilco, compassionately. "But
surely you might have found a boat of some sort to bring you?"
"Boat!" growled Bodmilcar, almost angrily; "when did boats begin to
journey overland? Did I not tell you I came from Rehoboth in the land
of those cursed Chaldeans? But hear me out, and you will sympathise
with my misfortune. I started first of all along the coast, buying
slaves from the Philistines, and corn and oil from the Jews. I went
across to Greece, and made some profitable dealings there. I chanced
upon a few wretched little Ionian barques, and secured some plunder
so. Then I conceived the project of going through the straits, and
I succeeded beyond my hopes in getting iron, and, what is more, in
getting slaves from Caucasus. My fortune was made. I was proceeding
home, when just as we neared the Phasis, on the Chalybean coast, some
alien gods--for sure I am that neither Melkarth nor Moloch would
so have dealt with a Tyrian sailor--some alien gods, I say, sent
down a frightful storm. With the utmost peril I contrived to save
my crew and all my human cargo; but the bulk of my goods was gone,
and my poor vessels were shattered hopelessly. There was but one
resource; I had no alternative but to convey my salvage in the best
way I could across Armenia and Chaldea by land, consoling myself with
the expectation of finding a market for the slaves along the road.
But once again the gods were cruelly adverse. We were attacked by a
troop of Chaldeans; fifty armed men could not protect a gang of four
hundred slaves, who, miserable wretches as they were, could not be
induced by blows or prayers to lift up a hand in their own defence.
The result was that we were very soon overpowered, and that, together
with all my party, I was made a prisoner. The Chaldeans proposed to
sell us to the King of Nineveh, and I had the pleasure of finding
myself part and parcel of my own cargo."
"But, anyhow, here you are. How did you contrive to get out of your
dilemma?" I asked my old comrade.
Bodmilcar raised the skirt of his patched and greasy kitonet, and
displayed a long knife with an ivory handle hanging from his belt.
"They forgot to search me," he said, "and omitted to bind me. The
very first night on which there was no moonlight I was entertaining
a couple of rascals who had charge of me, by telling them wonderful
tales about Libyan serpents, and about the men of Tarshish who had
mouths in the middle of their chests, and eyes at the tips of their
fingers; openmouthed, they were lost in amazement at the lies I was
pouring into their ears, and were entirely off their guard. I seized
my opportunity; and having first thrust my knife into the belly of
one of them, I cut the throat of the other and made my escape. I took
to my heels, and, Moloch be praised! the rascals failed to find a
trace of me. But now that I am here, the gods only know what is to
become of me. If I fail to get service as a pilot, I must enter as a
common sailor in some Tyrian ship."
"No need of that, Bodmilcar," I exclaimed; "you have made your
appearance just at a lucky moment. All praise to Ashtoreth! you are
just the man I want. I have a commission from the King to fit out
ships for Tarshish; I am captain of the expedition, and here at once
I can appoint you my second in command. My pilot is Himilco; and here
is Hanno, my scribe; we are on our way to the temple of the goddess,
and are going in her presence to draw up the covenants."
"Joy, joy, dear Mago!" ejaculated Bodmilcar; "may the gods be
gracious to you, and repay your goodness! I shall not regret my
disaster at the hands of the Chaldeans, if it ends in a voyage to
Tarshish with you. Only let Melkarth vouchsafe us a good ship, and
with Himilco to guide our course, we cannot fail to prosper, even
though our voyage be to the remotest confines of the world."
Hanno, who meanwhile had joined us, took out from his girdle some
ink and some reeds, with a little stone to sharpen them, and having
seated himself upon the temple steps, proceeded to draw up the
articles which appointed me admiral of the expedition, Bodmilcar
vice-admiral, and Himilco pilot-in-chief. Himilco and myself both
affixed our seals to the document, and Bodmilcar was proceeding to do
so likewise, feeling mechanically for his seal, which he remembered
afterwards that the Chaldeans had stolen. I gave him twenty shekels
to buy another, and to provide him with a new outfit of clothes.
Then, with Himilco, I proceeded to make my oblation of fruits and
cakes to Ashtoreth; and in the highest spirits we made our way to the
harbour, where our light vessel, the _Gadita_, was awaiting us.
[Illustration: HANNO PROCEEDED TO DRAW UP THE ARTICLES.
_To face page 8._]
Early next morning we set vigorously to work. I drew out the plans of
my vessels upon papyrus sheets. My own _Gadita_ was to be kept as a
light vessel; but I resolved to have a large _gaoul | 2,177.046013 |
2023-11-16 18:53:21.1369460 | 4,868 | 18 |
Produced by David T. Jones, Mardi Desjardins & the online
Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at
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HOMES AND CAREERS
IN CANADA
* * * * *
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
_After the sheets of this book were printed off, it was found that the
title chosen_, Making Good in Canada, _had been used for
another book that just secured priority of publication. It was necessary
to change the title, but the original title had to remain at the heads
of the pages._
[Illustration: PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS AT OTTAWA.]
HOMES AND CAREERS
IN CANADA
BY
H. JEFFS
_WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONDON
JAMES CLARKE & CO., 13 & 14 FLEET STREET
1914
THE AUTHOR’S THANKS
TO
THE HON. DR. W. J. ROCHE
DOMINION MINISTER OF THE INTERIOR
FOR KINDNESS SHOWN
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
FOREWORD vii
I. WHY PEOPLE GO TO CANADA 9
II. THE HOME OF A NATION 25
III. THE MAKING OF MODERN CANADA 31
IV. THE ROMANCE OF RAILWAY CONSTRUCTION 50
V. SETTLING ON THE LAND 70
VI. CANADIAN INDUSTRIAL DEVELOPMENT 104
VII. “REAL ESTATE” 146
VIII. THE HOMES OF CANADA 164
IX. LEAVING THE OLD COUNTRY 183
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS AT OTTAWA _Frontispiece_
THE “EMPRESS OF BRITAIN” WITH EMIGRANTS AT RIMOUSKI 18
SIX MONTHS OUT FROM HOME 24
QUEBEC FROM THE RIVER 34
COUNTRY SCENE IN OTTAWA 44
THE POWER PLOUGH IN SASKATCHEWAN 62
EVANGELINE’S WELL, ANNAPOLIS VALLEY, NOVA SCOTIA 70
STEAM PLOUGH IN ALBERTA 84
TORONTO, YONGE STREET 104
GALA DAY AT WINNIPEG 116
REGINA 126
CALGARY 137
PLOUGHING AND HARVESTING 164
STRATHCONA MONUMENT AT MONTREAL 171
A SASKATOON SCHOOL 182
EMIGRANTS LANDED AT QUEBEC 188
FOREWORD
This book is the fruits of a visit to Canada in which the author crossed
the country from Montreal to Vancouver, and returned from Halifax, Nova
Scotia. As a journalist and National President of the Brotherhood
Movement, which advises Brotherhood emigrants going out, and arranges
for their welcome by Canadian Brotherhood men, he found all doors open
to him. He had countless talks with men of all classes, native Canadians
and British settlers who had been in the country from two or three to
forty years. Ministers of the Dominion and Provincial Governments freely
answered his numerous questions as to the wisest course to be adopted by
various classes of emigrants, and Dominion and Provincial State
officials gave him all possible information in frank talk and by placing
at his disposal valuable State publications. Ministers of religion,
prominent business and professional men, journalists, “real estate” men,
hosts and hostesses in whose homes he was graciously received, heads of
Emigration Departments, leading officials of the great transcontinental
railways, all contributed to his accumulating stock of information; and,
needless to say, he lost no opportunity of seeing things for himself and
forming his own judgments. In his railway journeys, amounting to 10,000
miles, he fraternised with the commercial travellers on the trains, and
from them, and their discussions and comparison of notes among
themselves, he picked up a vast amount of invaluable information as to
the development, the trading methods, and the prospects of the country.
It has been a long business digesting and reducing the material to
order, but the author hopes that the book will prove helpful to those
seeking a career in a land of illimitable possibilities, and to the
increasing number of people at home who are tempted to invest money in
Canadian undertakings. He is specially concerned to help those who
decide on making Canada their homeland.
MAKING GOOD IN
CANADA
CHAPTER I
WHY PEOPLE GO TO CANADA
Between 350,000 and 400,000 people every year enter Canada with the
intention of making Canada their home: 60,000 of these cross the border
from the United States. Probably 50,000 to 70,000 are emigrants from the
various non-British countries. The remainder are from the British Isles,
and chiefly from England, Scotland, and Wales. The Irish prefer to go to
the United States, where some twelve millions of people of Irish blood
are already settled, and nearly every Irish family in the homeland has
some representative in the States who will lend a helping hand. During
the emigration season—from March to the middle of November—from 10,000
to 15,000 a week leave Glasgow, Liverpool, Bristol, and Southampton by
the various lines for Canada. The steerage of an emigrant ship, viewed
from one standpoint, is a melancholy spectacle. There would be from 700
to 1,500 people, men and women mostly under the age of twenty-five, and
even whole families, leaving the Old Country behind them in order to
make themselves citizens of a new country 3,000 miles across the
Atlantic. In Parliament, and out of Parliament, there is dismal talk
about “draining the country of its best blood,” and of “sending the
cream of the working manhood and womanhood of our nation to become rival
producers with our British farmers and workers in factories that will
compete with ourselves.” Such talk is natural enough, but who can blame
these people for leaving a land where they have seemed to be hopelessly
pressed down by force of circumstances, with no prospect of ever rising,
to a land that offers all sorts of opportunities to the man or woman
with capacity, good character and grit? The way to quench the desire for
emigration is to open wider the doors of opportunity at home, but that
opening of the doors seems to baffle the wisest and most progressive and
the most humanitarian of our statesmen. We live in a state of society
that is the resultant of fifteen hundred years of social evolution, and
evolution that has not always proceeded on right lines. We are a small
country with a very great population, and the land for the most part is
held up by a handful of owners, few of whom have had the vision to see
that the real wealth of Great Britain lies not in its property but in
its people. We have given rights to property and denied rights to
people. Horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, deer, and pheasants must be taken
great care of, for they have a saleable value, or they provide pleasure
for the rich in their happy hunting grounds; but in our villages,
country towns, and great cities hundreds of thousands of men and women
with capable hands and willing hearts are either denied the right to
earn a living wage or are compelled to work under such conditions as rob
life of its joy and buoyancy. What wonder if the townsman whose wages
are at starvation level, and whose employment is most precarious, who
may be thrown out of work at any moment, who is dependent for his daily
bread on the power or the will of an employer to provide him with a few
miserable shillings a week in return for his labour, gets tired of it,
and when he hears that in Canada there is work for all, and well-paid
work, with opportunities to rise out of the ruck of the wage-earners
into the proud position of landownership, should decide to try his luck
and should find himself soon afterwards in the steerage of one of the
great Atlantic liners with hundreds of like-minded companions? If we
would stop emigration from the towns we must tackle the employment
question, we must make employment secure, we must raise wages to a level
that will make it worth a man’s while to stay in the homeland amid
familiar surroundings. We must tackle the slums question. We create
slums by our conditions of industry and employment. The unemployed
rapidly degenerate physically, mentally and morally, and drift into the
slums, consorting there with other hopeless and helpless ones who have
been cast on to the social scrap-heap. London is the great
wealth-producing, wealth-distributing and wealth-exchanging centre of
the world. The Chancellor of the Exchequer recently said in the City of
London that values to the extent of seventeen thousand millions passed
through the Bank Clearing House of London in 1912, and yet there are
districts in North, East and South London where in street after street
whole families are herded in single rooms, sarcastically called “homes,”
in house after house, living under conditions of misery which would be
unendurable were it not that the misery is so continuous that the sense
of pain has been dulled almost out of existence.
In our villages, which, it is complained, are being depopulated by the
increasing emigration of the labourers to Canada, what has been done to
induce the young countryman to remain at home? There are few
characteristic agricultural villages in which the worker on the land
receives as much as 15_s._ a week, and he is taught to regard himself as
a very happy man if anybody is good enough to employ him at all. The
housing and the sanitary conditions in many of these villages are still
of the most repulsive character. The land often belongs to one or two
owners who decline either to part with plots of it for building cottages
or to build themselves. Young men wishing to marry are prevented from
realising the desire because there is no cottage vacant in which they
can start housekeeping. I was told that from one village of little more
than a thousand population half-a-dozen young men migrated in little
more than a year because they wanted to get married and would have to
wait until somebody died and vacated a cottage. The land question will
have to be settled in a revolutionary way, a way that will make it
possible for a labourer to become a small-holder in his own country, and
to occupy a decent house which shall either be his own freehold or shall
be let to him at a reasonable rent, if the emigration from the villages
to Canada and the increasing emigration to Australia is to be checked.
Why should a young fellow who has been educated at the expense of the
State, who reads his halfpenny paper and perhaps frequents the village
reading-room and has learned to think for himself, remain in the
village, submitting to the humiliating conditions which would be imposed
upon him, and to the closing of the door of hope to his legitimate
aspiration to better himself? Young fellows of the middle class and the
upper class naturally look to the prospect of bettering themselves. They
are educated with that object in view, and in every possible way are
encouraged to make the most of their natural capacity and their
education; but to the village labourer, as to the average wage-earner in
the city, education in the vast majority of cases only sharpens the
sting of misery and deepens the sense of humiliation. We must take human
nature as it is. We must accept the logic of our social system. If we
are not prepared at whatever cost to make Great Britain worth remaining
in to the more intelligent and aspiring of our young men and young women
we have no right to complain if they leave Great Britain, and if, by
leaving the homeland, the country is drained of its best blood.
But, after all, ought we to take so tragic a view of the situation? We
are coming to understand that the world to-day is not divided into so
many water-tight compartments. The old idea of a country and a nation as
an isolated entity, enjoying its own advantages and regarding other
countries as rivals, whose gains were its loss, has gone by the board.
The world has been wonderfully opened up in these later years. The seas
are ploughed by countless ships, carrying from country to country the
products of their agriculture and their manufacturing industries. Wealth
is made all round by the mutual exchange of those products. If France
prospers, or Germany, or Russia, England gains, for those countries have
the more to spend on the things that England manufactures. Still more is
this the case with the British dominions beyond the seas. South Africa,
Australia, New Zealand, and Canada are countries of our kinsmen. Blood
is thicker than water. Those people look naturally to the home country
as the country that offers them the most valuable market and as the
country from which they shall obtain what they themselves desire to buy
and use. Take Canada, for instance. Year by year it is increasing not
only its selling but its buying power; it is becoming a most valuable
customer to the homeland. Those who go out from us become our customers.
The more they prosper the more they purchase from the Old Country. The
farm labourer earning his 15_s._ a week goes to Manitoba, Saskatchewan,
Alberta, or British Columbia and takes a pre-empted homestead of 160
acres. He has served, probably, a year or two on a farm, learning the
methods, studying the situation, developing his manhood. If “the magic
of property turns sand into gold,” what can it not do for 160 acres of
fertile prairie? The labourer “breaks the prairie,” plants his corn,
reaps his harvest, sends it to the elevator, fills his pocket with the
price, and is so satisfied with himself that he wants to increase his
holding. He does increase it. He spends money on stock, machinery, all
the necessaries and some of the luxuries of life, and much of the money
that he spends comes to the Old Country to stimulate our manufactures
and our commerce. A young fellow who has left a Warwickshire or
Berkshire or Leicestershire village returns to his village five years
afterwards on a winter holiday after he has disposed of his crops. He
spends his money freely. He is as independent as the biggest farmer in
the district. The other young fellows of the village talk with him and
hear his story. “Why don’t you fellows go out?” he says to them. “Why do
you stop here? You will never be any better off here. Do as I did—go to
Canada. There are farmers there almost fighting each other for every
good man going out who can do anything on the land. You will find a job
at once with good wages, and there is no reason why in four or five
years you should not be doing as well as I am.” The village lads listen
with both ears and with eyes and mouths open. Their latent discontent
with the conditions under which they work and live is roused to
activity. Whenever two labourers meet together in the field or on the
road, in the barber’s shop, in the public-house, the talk is of “how
well Tom Jenkins or Sam Brown has done” in Saskatchewan or Alberta. He
is besieged with inquirers who bombard him with questions about the
country, the climate, the prospects, and what steps they should take to
get out and what they ought to do when they arrive. There are old
schoolmates whom he encourages and tells them that if they will only
come out to his district he will see to it that they get a job
immediately on their arrival—very likely he will be able to give them a
job himself. One such labourer’s return—and there are few villages in
the country in which you do not hear of such returns—sets up a stream
of emigration to Canada from that village, and the stream, unless a
thorough-going scheme of land reform is carried out, and carried out
soon, is bound to deepen and broaden.
[Illustration: “THE EMPRESS OF BRITAIN,” WITH EMIGRANTS, AT RIMOUSKI,
MOUTH OF THE ST. LAWRENCE.]
Then there are the tenant farmers and their sons. In the Old Country
good land is highly rented and the conditions of tenure often such as to
make farming one of the riskiest of occupations. A man wants security of
tenure if he is to get the best out of his land. The old rough-and-ready
methods of agriculture are little good in these days. Intensive culture
is the means of making money to-day. Brains and capital must be put into
the land if the land is to yield a profit. The farmers who are making
most money in our country are those in districts where it is possible to
secure the freehold of the farms they cultivate. Quite recently I was in
Leicestershire in a district where almost all the farming land is
freehold property. There I found a farming family who were making large
profits out of the intensive culture of open land and out of the growing
of tomatoes, cucumbers, and grapes under glass. A member of the family
told me that this could not or would not have been done on rented land,
for a man will not be fool enough to invest capital in the land, and
people will not lend him the money to invest, unless he can look forward
for several years to getting the return. It is little wonder, therefore,
that the farmer, still young, heavily rented, with one or two
experiences of a bad season, with the fluctuation of prices inevitable
in a country like our own, and always at the mercy of a landlord, should
look longingly across the seas to Canada, when he has heard of the ease
with which there a man may become owner of his farm and may make money
in all sorts of ways if he has the farming instinct properly developed,
is a good business man, is able to adapt himself to the circumstances of
the district in which he settles, and is prepared to put brains and
“elbow grease” into the land.
The Governments of all the Provinces of Canada just now are offering
large inducements to such men to settle in the territories of the
Dominion. Within the last year or two the Legislatures of Nova Scotia
and New Brunswick have passed Acts under which large farms may be
purchased, in a condition ready to yield immediate profits, by loans, 80
per cent. of which will be guaranteed by the Province, to suitable men.
Thousands of small farmers and farmers’ sons are now doing exceedingly
well in the Provinces of Canada who went out with very little capital,
but, being the right sort of men, every opportunity was given them to
show of what metal they were made.
Probably, at this moment, three millions of the seven millions and a
half of the population of Canada were British-born. This means that
hundreds of thousands of families in the Old Country are linked by ties
of tender relationship to the citizenship of Canada. The British-born
Canadians return home to spend their Christmases. The winter is their
holiday season, and they have alike plenty of time and plenty of money
to dispose of. They tell their stories of their success in Canada, they
remove prejudices against the people, the country and the climate, and
they awaken the ambition of young and ambitious members of their
families to “go and do likewise.”
Again, Canada has offered a field for the investment of British surplus
profits second to none in the world. During the last few years our
country has been passing through a period of unprecedented prosperity.
It has been impossible to find employment in the industries of our
country for the annual two hundred millions or so of surplus profits,
and much of that surplus has been pouring in a river of gold into
Canadian channels for the development of the country.
There are tens of thousands of business men and financiers in Great
Britain who are deeply interested in the exploitation of Canadian land,
railways, and manufacturing industries. They pay frequent visits to
Canada to look after their interests there, and Canadian representatives
of those interests are continually coming over to this country to
propose further developments and to open up new channels for investment.
These business firms and financial concerns are the means of increasing
the stream of emigration into Canada. They send their travellers,
clerks, expert engineers, mechanics, and what not to Canada to assist in
the development of their interests. It is said that Canada has taken
almost more British capital during the last ten or fifteen years than it
has been able to absorb and that there may be a temporary set-back. The
set-back could not be more than temporary, for everybody who has
investigated the resources of Canada is convinced that those resources
are rich beyond all calculation and that thousands of millions of
capital can be profitably employed in developing them. I hope that
incidentally this little book may be of some use to those who have
legitimate financial interests in Canada as well as to those who may be
thinking of emigrating and to those who are interested in emigrants.
The Canadian Governments are all very keenly alive to the social and
economic value of every immigrant of the right sort. Every man able and
willing to work and to adapt himself to the conditions means an addition
to the economic development power of the country. He is alike a producer
and a consumer. He makes a home, and that home means increased trade to
the producer and consumer of every necessary of life. This is why not
only the Dominion but all the Provincial Governments are offering
inducements to the right sort of emigrant to make his home in Canada.
There are many emigrants who are not of the right sort. The man who is
shiftless, aimless, addicted to self-indulgent vices at home, who shirks
work, who is always grumbling, is not wanted in Canada. The man who can
work, but whose ideas are limited, who has been employed in some | 2,177.156986 |
2023-11-16 18:53:21.2346270 | 2,215 | 8 |
Produced by Sue Asscher
THE DESCENT OF MAN
AND
SELECTION IN RELATION TO SEX
Works by Charles Darwin, F.R.S.
Life and Letters of Charles Darwin. With an Autobiographical Chapter.
Edited by Francis Darwin. Portraits. 3 volumes 36s. Popular Edition.
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Origin of Species by means of Natural Selection; or, The Preservation of
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Various Contrivances by which Orchids are Fertilized by Insects. Woodcuts.
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Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication. Illustrations. 15s.
Descent of Man, and Selection in relation to Sex. Illustrations. Large
Type Edition, 2 volumes 15s. Popular Edition, 7s 6d. Cheaper Edition, 2s.
6d. net.
Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals. Illustrations. 12s.
Insectivorous Plants. Illustrations. 9s.
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Cross and Self-Fertilization in the Vegetable Kingdom. Illustrations. 9s.
Different Forms of Flowers on Plants of the Same Species. Illustrations.
7s. 6d.
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The above works are Published by John Murray.
Structure and Distribution of Coral Reefs. Smith, Elder, & Co.
Geological Observations on Volcanic Islands and Parts of South America.
Smith, Elder, & Co.
Monograph of the Cirripedia. Illustrations. 2 volumes. 8vo. Ray
Society.
Monograph of the Fossil Lepadidae, or Pedunculated Cirripedes of Great
Britain. Palaeontographical Society.
Monograph of the Fossil Balanidae and Verrucidae of Great Britain.
Palaeontographical Society.
THE DESCENT OF MAN
AND
SELECTION IN RELATION TO SEX
BY
CHARLES DARWIN, M.A., F.R.S.
Uniform with this Volume
The Origin of Species, by means of Natural Selection; or, The Preservation
of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. Popular Edition, with a
Photogravure Portrait. Large Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
A Naturalist's Voyage. Journal of Researches into the Natural History and
Geology of the Countries visited during the Voyage of H.M.S. "Beagle" round
the World, under the Command of Capt. Fitz Roy, R.N. Popular Edition, with
many Illustrations. Large Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
During the successive reprints of the first edition of this work, published
in 1871, I was able to introduce several important corrections; and now
that more time has elapsed, I have endeavoured to profit by the fiery
ordeal through which the book has passed, and have taken advantage of all
the criticisms which seem to me sound. I am also greatly indebted to a
large number of correspondents for the communication of a surprising number
of new facts and remarks. These have been so numerous, that I have been
able to use only the more important ones; and of these, as well as of the
more important corrections, I will append a list. Some new illustrations
have been introduced, and four of the old drawings have been replaced by
better ones, done from life by Mr. T.W. Wood. I must especially call
attention to some observations which I owe to the kindness of Prof. Huxley
(given as a supplement at the end of Part I.), on the nature of the
differences between the brains of man and the higher apes. I have been
particularly glad to give these observations, because during the last few
years several memoirs on the subject have appeared on the Continent, and
their importance has been, in some cases, greatly exaggerated by popular
writers.
I may take this opportunity of remarking that my critics frequently assume
that I attribute all changes of corporeal structure and mental power
exclusively to the natural selection of such variations as are often called
spontaneous; whereas, even in the first edition of the 'Origin of Species,'
I distinctly stated that great weight must be attributed to the inherited
effects of use and disuse, with respect both to the body and mind. I also
attributed some amount of modification to the direct and prolonged action
of changed conditions of life. Some allowance, too, must be made for
occasional reversions of structure; nor must we forget what I have called
"correlated" growth, meaning, thereby, that various parts of the
organisation are in some unknown manner so connected, that when one part
varies, so do others; and if variations in the one are accumulated by
selection, other parts will be modified. Again, it has been said by
several critics, that when I found that many details of structure in man
could not be explained through natural selection, I invented sexual
selection; I gave, however, a tolerably clear sketch of this principle in
the first edition of the 'Origin of Species,' and I there stated that it
was applicable to man. This subject of sexual selection has been treated
at full length in the present work, simply because an opportunity was here
first afforded me. I have been struck with the likeness of many of the
half-favourable criticisms on sexual selection, with those which appeared
at first on natural selection; such as, that it would explain some few
details, but certainly was not applicable to the extent to which I have
employed it. My conviction of the power of sexual selection remains
unshaken; but it is probable, or almost certain, that several of my
conclusions will hereafter be found erroneous; this can hardly fail to be
the case in the first treatment of a subject. When naturalists have become
familiar with the idea of sexual selection, it will, as I believe, be much
more largely accepted; and it has already been fully and favourably
received by several capable judges.
DOWN, BECKENHAM, KENT,
September, 1874.
First Edition February 24, 1871.
Second Edition September, 1874.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
PART I. THE DESCENT OR ORIGIN OF MAN.
CHAPTER I.
The Evidence of the Descent of Man from some Lower Form.
Nature of the evidence bearing on the origin of man--Homologous structures
in man and the lower animals--Miscellaneous points of correspondence--
Development--Rudimentary structures, muscles, sense-organs, hair, bones,
reproductive organs, etc.--The bearing of these three great classes of
facts on the origin of man.
CHAPTER II.
On the Manner of Development of Man from some Lower Form.
Variability of body and mind in man--Inheritance--Causes of variability--
Laws of variation the same in man as in the lower animals--Direct action of
the conditions of life--Effects of the increased use and disuse of parts--
Arrested development--Reversion--Correlated variation--Rate of increase--
Checks to increase--Natural selection--Man the most dominant animal in the
world--Importance of his corporeal structure--The causes which have led to
his becoming erect--Consequent changes of structure--Decrease in size of
the canine teeth--Increased size and altered shape of the skull--Nakedness
--Absence of a tail--Defenceless condition of man.
CHAPTER III.
Comparison of the Mental Powers of Man and the Lower Animals.
The difference in mental power between the highest ape and the lowest
savage, immense--Certain instincts in common--The emotions--Curiosity--
Imitation--Attention--Memory--Imagination--Reason--Progressive improvement
--Tools and weapons used by animals--Abstraction, Self-consciousness--
Language--Sense of beauty--Belief in God, spiritual agencies,
superstitions.
CHAPTER IV.
Comparison of the Mental Powers of Man and the Lower Animals--continued.
The moral sense--Fundamental proposition--The qualities of social animals--
Origin of sociability--Struggle between opposed instincts--Man a social
animal--The more enduring social instincts conquer other less persistent
instincts--The social virtues alone regarded by savages--The self-regarding
virtues acquired at a later stage of development--The importance of the
judgment of the members of the same community on conduct--Transmission of
moral tendencies--Summary.
CHAPTER V.
On the Development of the Intellectual and Moral Faculties during Primeval
and Civilised times.
Advancement of the intellectual powers through natural selection--
Importance of imitation--Social and moral faculties--Their development
within the limits of the same tribe--Natural selection as affecting
civilised nations--Evidence that civilised nations were once barbarous.
CHAPTER VI.
On the Affinities and Genealogy of Man.
Position of man in the animal series--The natural system genealogical--
Adaptive characters of slight value--Various small points of resemblance
between man and the Quadrumana--Rank of man in the natural system--
Birthplace and antiquity of man--Absence of fossil connecting-links--Lower
stages in the genealogy of man, as inferred firstly from his affinities and
secondly from his structure--Early androgynous condition of the Vertebrata
--Conclusion.
CHAPTER VII.
On the Races of Man.
The nature and value of specific characters--Application to the races of
man--Arguments in favour of, and opposed to, ranking the so | 2,177.254667 |
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Produced by Irma Spehar, Paul Dring and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
SIR WALTER RALEGH
_STEBBING_
HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
[Illustration]
LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK
[Illustration: SIR WALTER RALEGH
_From the Duke of Rutland's Miniature_]
SIR WALTER RALEGH
A Biography
By
WILLIAM STEBBING, M.A.
FORMERLY FELLOW OF WORCESTER COLLEGE, OXFORD
AUTHOR OF
'SOME VERDICTS OF HISTORY REVIEWED'
_REISSUE_
_WITH A FRONTISPIECE AND A LIST OF AUTHORITIES_
Oxford
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1899
Oxford
PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
BY HORACE HART, M.A.
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE vii
LIST OF AUTHORITIES xiii
CORRIGENDA xxvii
CHAP.
I. GENEALOGY 1
II. IN SEARCH OF A CAREER (1552-1581) 6
III. ROYAL FAVOUR (1581-1582) 22
IV. OFFICES AND ENDOWMENTS (1582-1587) 32
V. VIRGINIA (1583-1587) 42
VI. PATRON AND COURTIER (1583-1590) 53
VII. ESSEX. THE ARMADA (1587-1589) 60
VIII. THE POET (1589-1593) 69
IX. THE REVENGE (September, 1591) 82
X. IN THE TOWER. THE GREAT CARACK (1592) 88
XI. AT HOME; AND IN PARLIAMENT (1592-1594) 100
XII. GUIANA (1594-1595) 108
XIII. CADIZ. THE ISLANDS VOYAGE (1596-1597) 125
XIV. FINAL FEUD WITH ESSEX (1597-1601) 141
XV. THE ZENITH (1601-1603) 155
XVI. COBHAM AND CECIL (1601-1603) 168
XVII. THE FALL (April-June, 1603) 180
XVIII. AWAITING TRIAL (July-November, 1603) 186
XIX. THE TRIAL (November 17) 207
XX. ITS JUSTICE AND EQUITY 222
XXI. REPRIEVE (December 10, 1603) 232
XXII. A PRISONER (1604-1612) 241
XXIII. SCIENCE AND LITERATURE (1604-1615) 265
XXIV. THE RELEASE (March, 1616) 287
XXV. PREPARING FOR GUIANA (1616-1617) 298
XXVI. THE EXPEDITION (May, 1617-June, 1618) 313
XXVII. RETURN TO THE TOWER (June-August, 1618) 331
XXVIII. A MORAL RACK (August 10-October 15) 343
XXIX. A SUBSTITUTE FOR A TRIAL (October 22, 1618) 359
XXX. RALEGH'S TRIUMPH (October 28-29, 1618) 371
XXXI. SPOILS AND PENALTIES 380
XXXII. CONTEMPORARY AND FINAL JUDGMENTS 394
INDEX 401
PREFACE
Students of Ralegh's career cannot complain of a dearth of materials.
For thirty-seven years he lived in the full glare of publicity. The
social and political literature of more than a generation abounds in
allusions to him. He appears and reappears continually in the
correspondence of Burleigh, Robert Cecil, Christopher Hatton, Essex,
Anthony Bacon, Henry Sidney, Richard Boyle, Ralph Winwood, Dudley
Carleton, George Carew, Henry Howard, and King James. His is a very
familiar name in the Calendars of Domestic State Papers. It holds its
place in the archives of Venice and Simancas. No family muniment room
can be explored without traces of him. Successive reports of the
Historical Manuscripts Commission testify to the vigilance with which
his doings were noted. No personage in two reigns was more a centre for
anecdotes and fables. They were eagerly imbibed, treasured, and
circulated alike by contemporary, or all but contemporary, statesmen and
wits, and by the feeblest scandal-mongers. A list comprising the names
of Francis Bacon, Sir John Harington, Sir Robert Naunton, Drummond of
Hawthornden, Thomas Fuller, Sir Anthony Welldon, Bishop Goodman, Francis
Osborn, Sir Edward Peyton, Sir Henry Wotton, John Aubrey, Sir William
Sanderson, David Lloyd, and James Howell, is far from exhausting the
number of the very miscellaneous purveyors and chroniclers.
Antiquaries, from the days of John Hooker of Exeter, the continuer of
Holinshed, Sir William Pole, Anthony a Wood, and John Prince, to those
of Lysons, Polwhele, Isaac D'Israeli, Payne Collier, and Dr. Brushfield,
have found boundless hunting-ground in his habits, acts, and motives.
Sir John Hawles, Mr. Justice Foster, David Jardine, Lord Campbell, and
Spedding have discussed the technical justice of his trials and
sentences. No historian, from Camden and de Thou, to Hume, Lingard,
Hallam, and Gardiner, has been able to abstain from debating his merits
and demerits. From his own age to the present the fascination of his
career, and at once the copiousness of information on it, and its
mysteries, have attracted a multitude of commentators. His character has
been repeatedly analysed by essayists, subtle as Macvey Napier, eloquent
as Charles Kingsley. There has been no more favourite theme for
biographers. Since the earliest and trivial account compiled by William
Winstanley in 1660, followed by the anonymous and tolerably industrious
narrative attributed variously to John, Benjamin, and James, Shirley in
1677, and Lewis Theobald's meagre sketch in 1719, a dozen or more lives
with larger pretensions to critical research have been printed, by
William Oldys in 1736, Thomas Birch in 1751, Arthur Cayley in 1805, Sir
Samuel Egerton Brydges in 1813, Mrs. A.T. Thomson in 1830, Patrick
Fraser Tytler in 1833, Robert Southey in 1837, Sir Robert Hermann
Schomburgk in 1848, C. Whitehead in 1854, S.G. Drake, of Boston, U.S.,
in 1862, J.A. St. John in 1868, Edward Edwards in the same year, Mrs.
Creighton in 1877, and Edmund Gosse in 1886.
Almost every one of this numerous company, down even to bookmaking
Winstanley the barber, has shed light, much or little, upon dark
recesses. By four, Oldys, Cayley, Tytler, and Edwards, the whole
learning of the subject, so far as it was for their respective periods
available, must be admitted to have been most diligently accumulated.
Yet it will scarcely be denied that there has always been room for a new
presentment of Ralegh's personality. That the want has remained
unsatisfied after all the efforts made to supply it is to be imputed
less to defects in the writers, than to the intrinsic difficulties of
the subject. Ralegh's multifarious activity, with the width of the area
in which it operated, is itself a disturbing element. It is confusing
for a biographer to be required to keep at once independent and in
unison the poet, statesman, courtier, schemer, patriot, soldier, sailor,
freebooter, discoverer, colonist, castle-builder, historian,
philosopher, chemist, prisoner, and visionary. The variety of Ralegh's
powers and tendencies, and of their exercise, is the distinctive note of
him, and of the epoch which needed, fashioned, and used him. A whole
band of faculties stood ready in him at any moment for action. Several
generally were at work simultaneously. For the man to be properly
visible, he should be shown flashing from more facets than a brilliant.
Few are the pens which can vividly reflect versatility like his. The
temptation to diffuseness and irrelevancy is as embarrassing and
dangerous. At every turn Ralegh's restless vitality involved him in a
web of other men's fortunes, and in national crises. A biographer is
constantly being beguiled into describing an era as well as its
representative, into writing history instead of a life. Within an
author's legitimate province the perplexities are numberless and
distracting. Never surely was there a career more beset with insoluble
riddles and unmanageable dilemmas. At each step, in the relation of the
most ordinary incidents, exactness of dates, or precision of events,
appears unattainable. Fiction is ever elbowing fact, so that it might be
supposed contemporaries had with one accord been conspiring to disguise
the truth from posterity. The uncertainty is deepened tenfold when
motives have to be measured and appraised. Ralegh was the best hated
personage in the kingdom. On a conscientious biographer is laid the
burden of allowing just enough, and not too much, for the gall of
private, political, and popular enmity. He is equally bound to remember
and account, often on the adverse side, for inherent contradictions in
his hero's own moral nature. While he knows it would be absurdly unjust
to accept the verdict of Ralegh's jealous and envious world on his
intentions, he has to beware of construing malicious persecution as
equivalent to proof of angelic innocence.
One main duty of a biographer of Ralegh is to be strenuously on the
guard against degenerating into an apologist. But, above all, he ought
to be versed in the art of standing aside. While explanations of
obscurities must necessarily be offered, readers should be put into a
position to judge for themselves of their sufficiency, and to
substitute, if they will, others of their own. Commonly they want not so
much arguments, however unegotistical and dispassionate, as a narrative.
They wish to view and hear Ralegh himself; to attend him on his quick
course from one field of fruitful energy to another; to see him as his
age saw him, in his exuberant vitality; not among the few greatest, but
of all great, Englishmen the most universally capable. They desire
facts, stated as such, simply, in chronological sequence, and, when it
is at all practicable, in the actor's own words, not artificially
carved,, digested, and classified. As for failings and
infirmities, they are more equitable and less liable to unreasonable
disgusts than a biographer is inclined to fancy. They are content that a
great man's faults, real or apparent, should be left to be justified,
excused, or at all events harmonized, in the mass of good and ill.
No biographer of Ralegh need for lack of occupation stray from the
direct path of telling his readers the plain story of an eventful life.
The rightful demands on his resources are enough to absorb the most
plentiful stores of leisure, patience, and self-denial. He should be
willing to spend weeks or months on loosing a knot visible to students
alone, which others have not noticed, and, if they had, would think
might as profitably have been left tied. He should collect, and weigh,
and have the courage to refuse to use, piles of matter which do not
enlighten. He should be prepared to devote years to the search for a
clue to a career with a bewildering capacity for sudden transformation
scenes. He should have the courage, when he has lost the trace, to
acknowledge that he has wandered. He should feel an interest so supreme
in his subject, in its shadows as in its lights, as neither to count the
cost of labour in its service, nor to find affection for the man
incompatible with the condemnation of his errors. Finally, after having
arrived at a clear perception of the true method to be pursued, and ends
to be aimed at, he should be able to recognize how very imperfectly he
has succeeded in acting up to his theory.
W.S.
LONDON:
_September_, 1891.
AUTHORITIES
Not a few readers and critics, who have been so kind as to speak
otherwise only too favourably of the book, have intimated that its value
would be increased by references to the authorities.
In compliance with the suggestion, the author now prints the list--a
formidable one. He has drawn it up in a form which, he hopes, may enable
students without much difficulty to trace the sources of the statements
in the text.
The figures in the parentheses () after the title of each authority are
the date of the original edition, where that is not the one cited. The
figures which follow give the date of the edition actually referred to.
The brackets [] after the pages of the _Life_ contain the pages, or
volumes and pages, of the cited works.
Example--
D'ISRAELI, ISAAC, _Cur. Lit._
(1791-1834), date of original edition.
ed. B. Disraeli, 1849, date of edition referred to.
79, page of _Life_.
[iii. 140], volume and page of _Cur. Lit._
A.
ARBER, EDWARD, _English Reprints_: p. 83 [No. 29, xiv. 13-22].
_Archaeologia_ (Transactions of the Society of Antiquaries): pp. 130
[xxii. 175], 299 [xii. 271], 368 [xliv. 394]. See also Collier, Monson.
_Ashmolean MSS._ (Bodleian Library): pp. 368 [DCCLXXXVI, fol. 101], 386.
AUBREY, JOHN, _Letters by Eminent Persons and Lives of Eminent Men_,
1813: pp. 8, 13, 25, 28, 35, 49, 57, 58, 100, 104, 105, 164, 180, 181,
192, 209, 249, 273, 282, 283, 300 [ii. 416 and 494, and 509-21].
_Aulicus Coquinarius_ (published in _Secret History of James I_,
1811)--'supposed to have been compiled from Bishop Goodman's materials
by William Sanderson': p. 210 [173].
B.
BACON, ANTHONY, Correspondence (_MSS. Tenison_, at Lambeth, and
Catalogue, _Lambeth Palace MSS._): pp. 89 [Cat. 162], 108 [Cat. 166].
BACON, FRANCIS, LORD, _Works, Letters, and Life_, ed. James Spedding,
R.E. Ellis, and D.D. Heath, 1858-1874.
-- _Apophthegms_: pp. 8 [ii. 163], 89 [ii. 129], 155 [ii. 124], 302
[ii. 168].
-- _Life_: pp. 359 [vi. 360-2], 361 [vi. 356, 364-5].
BAYLEY, JOHN, _History and Antiquities of the Tower of London_, 1821:
p. 250 [Appendix, vol. ii. ch. x].
BEATSON, ROBERT, _Political Index to the Histories of Great Britain and
Ireland_ (1786), 3rd ed. 1806: pp. 35 [i. 448], 108 [i. 448].
BEAUMONT, CHRISTOPHER DE HARLAY DE, _Lettres a Henri IV_ (transcripts
by E. Edwards from MSS. Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris):
pp. 182, 195, 201, 227, 237, 239, 240.
_Biographia Britannica_, 1747-1766 (Art. W. Ralegh): pp. 39, 49.
BIRCH, REV. THOMAS, D.D., _Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth_, 1754: pp. 89
[i. 79], 147 [ii. 418].
-- _Life of Sir Walter Ralegh_ (Oxford ed. of Ralegh's Works): pp. 89
[i. 593], 300 [i. 613].
BLACKSTONE, MR. JUSTICE SIR WILLIAM, _Commentaries on the Laws of
England_ (1765-1769). Revised by Serjeant Henry John Stephen, 3rd
ed. 1853: p. 285 [ii. 475].
BOLINGBROKE, HENRY ST. JOHN, VISCOUNT ('_The Craftsman_, by Caleb
D'Anvers, Esq.' 1731-1737. Nos. 160, 163, 164, 175, 274): p. 269.
BRAY. See Manning.
BRAYLEY, EDWARD WEDLAKE, and JOHN BRITTON, _History of Surrey_,
1850: p. 380 [ii. 93-4].
BRUCE, REV. JOHN, _Correspondence of King James VI of Scotland with
Sir R. Cecil and others in England_ (Camden Society), 1861: pp. 58
[67], 148 [Appendix 82-3, 90], 172 [15], 173 [67], 175 [43], 176
[18-9], 177 [ibid.], 254 [140-60, 219].
BRUSHFIELD, THOMAS NADAULD, M.D., _Raleghana_ (_Burial-place of
Walter and Katherine Ralegh_), 1896: p. 5 (Devon Assoc. Trans.
xxviii. 291-4).
-- -- (_Birthplace of Sir Walter Ralegh_), 1889: pp. 6, 101 (Devon Assoc.
Trans. xxi. 319-21).
-- -- (_Children of_), 1896: p. 197 (Devon Assoc. Trans. xxviii. 310-12).
-- _London and Suburban Residences of Sir Walter Ralegh:_ pp. 103-5
(_Western Antiquary_, iv. 82-7, 109-12).
-- _Bibliography of Sir Walter Ralegh_ (reprinted from _Western
Antiquary_), 1886: pp. 265-76.
-- (_Tobacco and Potatoes_): p. 49 (Devon Assoc. Trans. xxx. 158-97).
_Builder, The_, Sept. 17, 1864: p. 105.
BULLEN, A.H. (_Poetical Rhapsody_, ed. Francis Davison, 1602), 1890:
pp. 78 [i. 116, and Introd. 83, 84], 79 [i. 28, and Introd. 86].
BULLEN, A.H. (_England's Helicon_, 1600), 1887: p. 80 [Introd. 22, 23].
BURGHLEY, WILLIAM CECIL, LORD, _State Papers at Hatfield House_,
Vol. ii, 1571-1596, ed. Rev. Wm. Murdin: pp. 93 [ii. 657], 95 [ii.
658], 102 [ii. 675], 152 [ii. 811].
C.
_Calendar, Carew MSS._ 1515-1624, Lambeth Palace Library, ed. Rev.
John S. Brewer and William Bullen, 1868: pp. 38, 49, 71, 91, 126,
148, 149, 156, 158, 162, 169, 330.
-- _State Papers_, Domestic Series, Elizabeth and James I, 1585-1618:
pp. 34, 35, 36, 37, 43, 45, 51, 54, 55, 58, 59, 64, 69, 82, 84, 87, 89,
96, 98, 101, 102, 117, 125, 134, 135, 142, 146, 147, 164, 169, 180,
182, 201, 208, 241, 242, 243, 247, 249, 252, 254, 257, 260, 262, 263,
264, 266, 288, 297, 298, 300, 301, 302, 307, 313, 316, 332, 333, 337,
346, 347, 348, 349, 352, 358, 366, 369, 372, 375, 381, 384, 385, 386,
387, 393, 394, 396.
-- _Venetian State Papers_, 1581-1591: pp. 50, 64.
CAMDEN, WILLIAM, _Annales, etc. regnante Elizabetha_ (Part I, to 1589,
1615; Part II, 1627), ed. Thomas Hearne, 1717: pp. 9 [i. 198], 66
[ii. 574-5], 89 [iii. 697], 109 [iii. 697], 137 [iii. 741-2].
-- _Annales Regni Jacobi I_: p. 275 [9].
-- _Epistolae_ (containing in appendix the _Annales Jacobi I_), ed.
Thomas Smith, 1691: pp. 325 [256], 333 [243].
CAMPBELL, JOHN, LORD, _Lives of the Chief Justices of England_,
1849-1857: p. 209 [i. 210-11].
CAREW, RICHARD, _Survey of Cornwall_ (1602), ed. Lord de Dunstanville,
1811: p. 168 [xxv-xxvi].
CARLYLE, THOMAS: p. 279 (see Cromwell).
CARTE, THOMAS, _General History of England_, 1747-1755: p. 205 [iii.
719].
CLARENDON, EDWARD HYDE, FIRST EARL of, _The Difference and
Disparity between the Estates and Conditions of George, Duke of
Buckingham, and Robert, Earl of Essex_, 'written by the Earl of
Clarendon in his younger Dayes' (in _Reliquiae Wottonianae_, 4th ed.
1685, 185-202): p. 145 [190].
COKE, SIR EDWARD, _Third Institute_ (1644), 1797: p. 214 [24-5].
COLLIER, JOHN PAYNE (_Notes and Queries_, 3rd Series, vol. v): pp. 244
[7], 246 [7].
-- _Archaeologia_ (Society of Antiquaries) 1852-1853: pp. 11 [xxxiv.
139], 15 [xxxiv. 139], 21 [xxxiv. 141], 36 [xxxv. 368-71], 42 [xxxiii.
199, and xxxiv. 151], 89 [xxxiv. 160], 90 [xxxiv. 161], 91 [xxxiv.
165], 133 [xxxiv. 168], 164 [xxxiv. 163-4], 165 [xxxv. 214], 244
[xxxv. 217-8], 252 [xxxv. 219-20].
CORNEY, BOLTON, '_Curiosities of Literature_, by I. D'Israeli, Esq.,
Illustrated by Bolton Corney, Esq.,' 1837: p. 274.
COSTELLO, LOUISA STUART, _Memoirs of Eminent Englishwomen_, 1844:
p. 63 [i. 209-10].
_Cotton. Library MSS._, British Museum: pp. 57 [Galba, C. 9, fol. 157],
132 [Vespas. C. 13, fol. 290], 149 [Julius, F. 6, p. 433], 272 [Julius,
C. 3, fol. 311], 316 [Titus, B. 8, fol. 155], 351 [Vitell. C. 17, foll.
439-40], 373 [Titus, C. 6, fol. 93].
_Craftsman._ See Bolingbroke.
CROMWELL, OLIVER, _Letters and Speeches_, ed. Thomas Carlyle, 1870:
p. 279 [ii. 293].
-- _Memoirs of the Protector Oliver Cromwell, and of his sons, Richard
and Henry_, by Oliver Cromwell, Esq. (1820), 3rd ed. 1822: p. 279
[i. 369-70].
D.
_Declaration of the Demeanour and Carriage of Sir Walter Raleigh, as well
in his Voyage, as in and since his Return_, printed by the King's
Printers, 1618; reprinted _Harleian Miscellany_, iii, 1809; _Somers
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Produced by David Widger
THE ACORN-PLANTER
A California Forest Play
Planned To Be Sung By Efficient Singers
Accompanied By A Capable Orchestra
By Jack London
1916
ARGUMENT
In the morning of the world, while his tribe
makes its camp for the night in a grove, Red
Cloud, the first man of men, and the first man
of the Nishinam, save in war, sings of the duty
of life, which duty is to make life more abundant.
The Shaman, or medicine man, sings of
foreboding and prophecy. The War Chief, who
commands in war, sings that war is the only
way to life. This Red Cloud denies, affirming
that the way of life is the way of the acorn-
planter, and that whoso slays one man slays
the planter of many acorns. Red Cloud wins
the Shaman and the people to his contention.
After the passage of thousands of years, again
in the grove appear the Nishinam. In Red
Cloud, the War Chief, the Shaman, and the
Dew-Woman are repeated the eternal figures
of the philosopher, the soldier, the priest, and
the woman--types ever realizing themselves
afresh in the social adventures of man. Red
Cloud recognizes the wrecked explorers as
planters and life-makers, and is for treating
them with kindness. But the War Chief and
the idea of war are dominant The Shaman
joins with the war party, and is privy to the
massacre of the explorers.
A hundred years pass, when, on their seasonal
migration, the Nishinam camp for the night in
the grove. They still live, and the war formula
for life seems vindicated, despite the imminence
of the superior life-makers, the whites, who are
flooding into California from north, south, east,
and west--the English, the Americans, the
Spaniards, and the Russians. The massacre by
the white men follows, and Red Cloud, dying,
recognizes the white men as brother acorn-planters,
the possessors of the superior life-formula
of which he had always been a protagonist.
In the Epilogue, or Apotheosis, occur the
celebration of the death of war and the triumph
of the acorn-planters.
PROLOGUE
Time. _In the morning of the world._
Scene. _A forest hillside where great trees stand with wide
spaces between. A stream flows from a spring that bursts
out of the hillside. It is a place of lush ferns and brakes,
also, of thickets of such shrubs as inhabit a redwood forest
floor. At the left, in the open level space at the foot of the
hillside, extending out of sight among the trees, is visible a
portion of a Nishinam Indian camp. It is a temporary
camp for the night. Small cooking fires smoulder. Standing
about are withe-woven baskets for the carrying of supplies
and dunnage. Spears and bows and quivers of arrows lie
about. Boys drag in dry branches for firewood. Young
women fill gourds with water from the stream and proceed
about their camp tasks. A number of older women are
pounding acorns in stone mortars with stone pestles. An
old man and a Shaman, or priest, look expectantly up the
hillside. All wear moccasins and are skin-clad, primitive,
in their garmenting. Neither iron nor woven cloth occurs
in the weapons and gear._
{Shaman}
_(Looking up hillside.)_
Red Cloud is late.
{Old Man}
_(After inspection of hillside.)_
He has chased the deer far. He is patient.
In the chase he is patient like an old man.
{Shaman}
His feet are as fleet as the deer's.
{Old Man}
_(Nodding.)_
And he is more patient than the deer.
{Shaman}
_(Assertively, as if inculcating a lesson.)_
He is a mighty chief.
{Old Man}
_(Nodding.)_
His father was a mighty chief. He is like to
his father.
{Shaman}
_(More assertively.)_
He is his father. It is so spoken. He is
his father's father. He is the first man, the
first Red Cloud, ever born, and born again, to
chiefship of his people.
{Old Man}
It is so spoken.
{Shaman}
His father was the Coyote. His mother was
the Moon. And he was the first man.
{Old Man}
_(Repeating.)_
His father was the Coyote. His mother was
the Moon. And he was the first man.
{Shaman}
He planted the first acorns, and he is very
wise.
{Old Man}
_(Repeating.)_
He planted the first acorns, and he is very
wise.
_(Cries from the women and a turning of
faces. Red Cloud appears among his
hunters descending the hillside. All
carry spears, and bows and arrows.
Some carry rabbits and other small
game. Several carry deer)_
PLAINT OF THE NISHINAM
Red Cloud, the meat-bringer!
Red Cloud, the acorn-planter!
Red Cloud, first man of the Nishinam!
Thy people hunger.
Far have they fared.
Hard has the way been.
Day long they sought,
High in the mountains,
Deep in the pools,
Wide '<DW41> the grasses,
In the bushes, and tree-tops,
Under the earth and flat stones.
Few are the acorns,
Past is the time for berries,
Fled are the fishes, the prawns and the grasshoppers,
Blown far are the grass-seeds,
Flown far are the young birds,
Old are the roots and withered.
Built are the fires for the meat.
Laid are the boughs for sleep,
Yet thy people cannot sleep.
Red Cloud, thy people hunger.
{Red Cloud}
_(Still descending.)_
Good hunting! Good hunting!
{Hunters}
Good hunting! Good hunting!
_(Completing the descent, Red Cloud
motions to the meat-bearers. They throw
down their burdens before the women,
who greedily inspect the spoils.)_
MEAT SONG OF THE NISHINAM
Meat that is good to eat,
Tender for old teeth,
Gristle for young teeth,
Big deer and fat deer,
Lean meat and fat meat,
Haunch-meat and knuckle-bone,
Liver and heart.
Food for the old men,
Life for all men,
For women and babes.
Easement of hunger-pangs,
Sorrow destroying,
Laughter provoking,
Joy invoking,
In the smell of its smoking
And its sweet in the mouth.
_(The younger women take charge of the meat,
and the older women resume their acorn-pounding.)_
_(Red Cloud approaches the acorn-pounders
and watches them with pleasure.
All group about him, the Shaman to the
fore, and hang upon his every action, his
every utterance.)_
{Red Cloud}
The heart of the acorn is good?
{First Old Woman}
_(Nodding.)_
It is good food.
{Red Cloud}
When you have pounded and winnowed and
washed away the bitter.
{Second Old Woman}
As thou taught'st us, Red Cloud, when the
world was very young and thou wast the first man.
{Red Cloud}
It is a fat food. It makes life, and life is good.
{Shaman}
It was thou, Red Cloud, gathering the acorns
and teaching the storing, who gavest life to the
Nishinam in the lean years aforetime, when the
tribes not of the Nishinam passed like the dew
of the morning.
_(He nods a signal to the Old Man.)_
{Old Man}
In the famine in the old time,
When the old man was a young man,
When the heavens ceased from raining,
When the grasslands parched and withered,
When the fishes left the river,
And the wild meat died of sickness,
In the tribes that knew not acorns,
All their women went dry-breasted,
All their younglings chewed the deer-hides,
All their old men sighed and perished,
And the young men died beside them,
Till they died by tribe and totem,
And o'er all was death upon them.
Yet the Nishinam unvanquished,
Did not perish by the famine.
Oh, the acorns Red Cloud gave them!
Oh, the acorns Red Cloud taught them
How to store in willow baskets
'Gainst the time and need of famine!
{Shaman}
_(Who, throughout the Old Man's recital, has
nodded approbation, turning to Red
Cloud.)_
Sing to thy people, Red Cloud, the song of
life which is the song of the acorn.
{Red Cloud}
_(Making ready to begin)_
And which is the song of woman, O Shaman.
{Shaman}
_(Hushing the people to listen, solemnly)_
He sings with his father's lips, and with the
lips of his father's fathers to the beginning of time
and men.
SONG OF THE FIRST MAN
{Red Cloud}
I am Red Cloud,
The first man of the Nishinam.
My father was the Coyote.
My mother was the Moon.
The Coyote danced with the stars,
And wedded the Moon on a mid-summer night
The Coyote is very wise,
The Moon is very old,
Mine is his wisdom,
Mine is her age.
I am the first man.
I am the life-maker and the father of life.
I am the fire-bringer.
The Nishinam were the first men,
And they were without fire,
And knew the bite of the frost of bitter nights.
The panther stole the fire from the East,
The fox stole the fire from the panther,
The ground squirrel stole the fire from the fox,
And I, Red Cloud, stole the fire from the ground squirrel.
I, Red Cloud, stole the fire for the Nishinam,
And hid it in the heart of the wood.
To this day is the fire there in the heart of the wood.
I am the Acorn-Planter.
I brought down the acorns from heaven.
I planted the short acorns in the valley.
I planted the long acorns in the valley.
I planted the black-oak acorns that sprout, that sprout!
I planted the _sho-kum_ and all the roots of the ground.
I planted the oat and the barley, the beaver-tail grass-nut,
The tar-weed and crow-foot, rock lettuce and ground lettuce,
And I taught the virtue of clover in the season of blossom,
The yellow-flowered clover, ball-rolled in its yellow dust.
I taught the cooking in baskets by hot stones from the fire,
Took the bite from the buckeye and soap-root
By ground-roasting and washing in the sweetness of water,
And of the manzanita the berry I made into flour,
Taught the way of its cooking with hot stones in sand pools,
And the way of its eating with the knobbed tail of the deer.
Taught I likewise the gathering and storing,
The parching and pounding
Of the seeds from the grasses and grass-roots;
And taught I the planting of seeds in the Nishinam home-camps,
In the Nishinam hills and their valleys,
In the due times and seasons,
To sprout in the spring rains and grow ripe in the sun.
{Shaman}
Hail, Red Cloud, the first man!
{The People}
Hail, Red Cloud, the first man!
{Shaman}
Who showedst us the way of our feet in the world!
{The People}
Who showedst us the way of our feet in the world!
{Shaman}
Who showedst us the way of our food in the world!
{The People}
Who showedst us the way of our food in the world!
{Shaman}
Who showedst us the way of our hearts in the world!
{The People}
Who showedst us the way of our hearts in the world!
{Shaman}
Who gavest us the law of family!
{The People}
Who gavest us the law of family!
{Shaman}
The law of tribe!
{The People}
The law of tribe!
{Shaman}
The law of totem!
{The People}
The law of totem!
{Shaman}
And madest us strong in the world among men!
{The People}
And madest us strong in the world among men!
{Red Cloud}
Life is good, O Shaman, and I have sung but
half its song. Acorns are good. So is woman
good. Strength is good. Beauty is good. So is
kindness good. Yet are all these things without
power except for woman. And by these things
woman makes strong men, and strong men make
for life, ever for more life.
{War Chief}
_(With gesture of interruption that causes
remonstrance from the Shaman but which
Red Cloud acknowledges.)_
I care not for beauty. I desire strength in
battle and wind in the chase that I may kill my
enemy and run down my meat.
{Red Cloud}
Well spoken, O War Chief. By voices in
council we learn our minds, and that, too, is
strength. Also, is it kindness. For kindness
and strength and beauty are one. The eagle in
the high blue of the sky is beautiful. The salmon
leaping the white water in the sunlight is beautiful.
The young man fastest of foot in the race
is beautiful. And because they fly well, and leap
well, and run well, are they beautiful. Beauty
must beget beauty. The ring-tail cat begets
the ring-tail cat, the dove the dove. Never
does the dove beget the ring-tail cat. Hearts
must be kind. The little turtle is not kind.
That is why it is the little turtle. It lays its
eggs in the sun-warm sand and forgets its young
forever. And the little turtle is forever the
Kttle turtle. But we are not little turtles,
because we are kind. We do not leave our young
to the sun in the sand. Our women keep our
young warm under their hearts, and, after, they
keep them warm with deer-skin and campfire.
Because we are kind we are men and not little
turtles, and that is why we eat the little turtle
that is not strong because it is not kind.
{War Chief}
_(Gesturing to be heard.)_
The Modoc come against us in their strength.
Often the Modoc come against us. We cannot
be kind to the Modoc.
{Red Cloud}
That will come after. Kindness grows. First
must we be kind to our own. After, long after,
all men will be kind to all men, and all men will
be very strong. The strength of the Nishinam
is not the strength of its strongest fighter. It is
the strength of all the Nishinam added together
that makes the Nishinam strong. We talk, you
and I, War Chief and First Man, because we are
kind one to the other, and thus we add together
our wisdom, and all the Nishinam are stronger
because we have talked.
_(A voice is heard singing. Red Cloud
holds up his hand for silence.)_
MATING SONG
{Dew-Woman}
In the morning by the river,
In the evening at the fire,
In the night when all lay sleeping,
Torn was I with life's desire.
There were stirrings 'neath my heart-beats
Of the dreams that came to me;
In my ears were whispers, voices,
Of the children yet to be.
{Red Cloud}
_(As Red Cloud sings, Dew-Woman
steals from behind a tree and approaches
him.)_
In the morning by the river
Saw I first my maid of dew,
Daughter of the dew and dawnlight,
Of the dawn and honey-dew.
She was laughter, she was sunlight,
Woman, maid, and mate, and wife;
She was sparkle, she was gladness,
She was all the song of life.
{Dew-Woman}
In the night I built my fire,
Fire that maidens foster when
In the ripe of mating season
Each builds for her man of men.
{Red Cloud}
In the night I sought her, proved her,
Found her ease, content, and rest,
After day of toil and struggle
Man's reward on woman's breast.
{Dew-Woman}
Came to me my mate and lover;
Kind the hands he laid on me;
Wooed me gently as a man may,
Father of the race to be.
{Red Cloud}
Soft her arms about me bound me,
First man of the Nishinam,
Arms as soft as dew and dawnlight,
Daughter of the Nishinam.
{Red Cloud}
She was life and she was woman!
{Dew-Woman}
He was life and he was man!
{Red Cloud} and Dew-Woman
_(Arms about each other.)_
In the dusk-time of our love-night,
There beside the marriage fire,
Proved we all the sweets of living,
In the arms of our desire.
{War Chief}
_(Angrily.)_
The councils of men are not the place for
women.
{Red Cloud}
_(Gently.)_
As men grow kind and wise there will be
women in the councils of men. As men grow
their women must grow with them if they would
continue to be the mothers of men.
{War Chief}
It is told of old time that there are women in
the councils of the Sim. And is it not told that
the Sun Man will destroy us?
{Red Cloud}
Then is the Sun Man the stronger; it may be
because of his kindness and wiseness, and because
of his women.
{Young Brave}
Is it told that the women of the Sun are good
to the eye, soft to the arm, and a fire in the heart
of man?
{Shaman}
_(Holding up hand solemnly.)_
It were well, lest the young do not forget, to
repeat the old word again.
{War Chief}
_(Nodding confirmation.)_
Here, where the tale is told.
_(Pointing to the spring.)_
Here, where the water burst from under the heel
of the Sun Man mounting into the sky.
_(War Chief leads the way up the hillside
to the spring, and signals to the Old Man
to begin)_
{Old Man}
When the world was in the making,
Here within the mighty forest,
Came the Sun Man every morning.
White and shining was the Sun Man,
Blue his eyes were as the sky-blue,
Bright his hair was as dry grass is,
Warm his eyes were as the sun is,
Fruit and flower were in his glances;
All he looked on grew and sprouted,
As these trees we see about us,
Mightiest trees in all the forest,
For the Sun Man looked upon them.
Where his glance fell grasses seeded,
Where his feet fell sprang upstarting--
Buckeye woods and hazel thickets,
Berry bushes, manzanita,
Till his pathway was a garden,
Flowing after like a river,
Laughing into bud and blossom.
There was never frost nor famine
And the Nishinam were happy,
Singing, dancing through the seasons,
Never cold and never hungered,
When the Sun Man lived among us.
But the foxes mean and cunning,
Hating Nishinam and all men,
Laid their snares within this forest,
Caught the Sun Man in the morning,
With their ropes of sinew caught him,
Bound him down to steal his wisdom
And become themselves bright Sun Men,
Warm of glance and fruitful-footed,
Masters of the frost and famine.
Swiftly the Coyote running
Came to aid the fallen Sun Man,
Swiftly killed the cunning foxes,
Swiftly cut the ropes of sinew,
Swiftly the Coyote freed him.
But the Sun Man in his anger,
Lightning flashing, thunder-throwing,
Loosed the frost and fanged the famine,
Thorned the bushes, pinched the berries,
Put the bitter in the buckeye,
Rocked the mountains to their summits,
Flung the hills into the valleys,
Sank the lakes and shoaled the rivers,
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Shakespeare in the Theatre
[Illustration: Yours truly, Wm. Poel.
_Photo. Bassano._]
SHAKESPEARE IN THE THEATRE
BY WILLIAM POEL
FOUNDER AND DIRECTOR OF
THE ELIZABETHAN STAGE SOCIETY
LONDON AND TORONTO
SIDGWICK AND JACKSON, LTD.
1913
_All rights reserved._
NOTE
These papers are reprinted from the _National Review_, the _Westminster
Review_, the _Era_, and the _New Age_, by kind permission of the owners of
the copyrights. The articles are collected in one volume, in the hope that
they may be of use to those who are interested in the question of stage
reform, more especially where it concerns the production of Shakespeare's
plays.
W. P.
_May, 1913._
ADDENDUM
An acknowledgement of permission to reprint should also have been made to
the _Nation_, in which several of the most important of these papers
originally appeared.
W. P.
_Shakespeare in the Theatre_
CONTENTS
PAGE
I THE STAGE OF SHAKESPEARE
The Elizabethan Playhouse--The Plays and the Players 3
II THE PLAYS OF SHAKESPEARE
Some Mistakes of the Editors--Some Mistakes of the
Actors--The Character of Lady Macbeth--Shakespeare's
Jew and Marlowe's Christians--The Authors of "King
Henry the Eighth"--"Troilus and Cressida" 27
III SOME STAGE VERSIONS
"The Merchant of Venice"--"Romeo and
Juliet"--"Hamlet"--"King Lear" 119
IV THE NATIONAL THEATRE
The Repertory Theatre--The Elizabethan Stage
Society--Shakespeare at Earl's Court--The Students'
Theatre--The Memorial Scheme 193
INDEX 241
I
THE STAGE OF SHAKESPEARE
THE ELIZABETHAN PLAYHOUSE
THE PLAYS AND THE PLAYERS
SHAKESPEARE IN THE THEATRE
I
THE STAGE OF SHAKESPEARE
THE ELIZABETHAN PLAYHOUSE.[1]
The interdependence of Shakespeare's dramatic art with the form of theatre
for which Shakespeare wrote his plays is seldom emphasized. The ordinary
reader and the everyday critic have no historic knowledge of the
Elizabethan playhouse; and however full the Elizabethan dramas may be of
allusions to the contemporary stage, the bias of modern dramatic students
is so opposed to any belief in the superiority of past methods of acting
Shakespeare over modern ones, as to effectually bar any serious inquiry. A
few sceptics have recognized dimly that a conjoint study of Shakespeare
and the stage for which he wrote is possible; but they have not conducted
their researches either seriously or impartially, and their conclusions
have proved disputable and disappointing. With a very hazy perception of
the connection between Elizabethan histrionic art and its literature, they
have approached a comparison of the Elizabethan drama with the
Elizabethan stage as they would a Chinese puzzle. They have read the plays
in modern printed editions, they have seen them acted on the
picture-stage, they have heard allusions made to old tapestry, rushes, and
boards, and at once they have concluded that the dramatist found his
theatre inadequate to his needs.
Now the first, and perhaps the strongest, evidence which can be adduced to
disfavour this theory is the extreme difficulty--it might almost be said
the impossibility--of discovering a single point of likeness between the
modern idea of an Elizabethan representation of one of Shakespeare's
plays, and the actual light in which it presented itself before the eyes
of Elizabethan spectators. It is wasted labour to try to account for the
perversities of the human intellect; but displays of unblushing ignorance
have undoubtedly discouraged sober persons from pursuing an independent
line of investigation, and have led many to deny the possibility of
satisfactorily showing any intelligible connection between the Elizabethan
drama and its contemporary exponents. Nowhere has a little knowledge
proved more dangerous or more liable to misapplication, and nowhere has
sure knowledge seemed more difficult of acquisition; yet it is obvious
that investigators of the relations between the two subjects cannot
command success unless they allow their theories to be formed by facts.
To those dilettante writers who believe that a poet's greatness consists
in his power of emancipating himself from the limitations of time and
space, it must sound something like impiety to describe Shakespeare's
plays as in most cases compositions hastily written to fulfil the
requirements of the moment and adapted to the wants of his theatre and the
capabilities of his actors. But to persons of Mr. Ruskin's opinion this
modified aspect should seem neither astonishing nor distressing; for they
know that "it is a constant law that the greatest poets and historians
live entirely in their own age, and the greatest fruits of their work are
gathered out of their own age." Shakespeare and his companions were
inspired by the prolific energies of their day. Their material was their
own and their neighbours' experiences, and their plays were shaped to suit
the theatre of the day and no other. It is therefore reasonable for the
serious critic and historian to anticipate some increase of knowledge from
a thorough examination of the Elizabethan theatre in close conjunction
with the Elizabethan drama. Students who reject this method will always
fail to realize the essential characteristic of one of the greatest ages
of English dramatic poetry, while he who adopts it may confidently expect
revelations of interest, not only to the playgoer, but to all who devote
attention to dramatic literature. Above all things should it be borne in
mind that the more the conditions of the Elizabethan theatre are studied,
the better will it be perceived how workmanlike London's theatrical
representations then were, and that they had nothing amateurish about
them.
One of the chief fallacies in connection with the modern notion of the
Elizabethan stage is that of its poverty in colour and setting through the
absence of scenery--a notion that is at variance with every contemporary
record of the theatre and of its puritanical opponents, whose incessant
taunts were, "Behold the sumptuous theatre houses, a continual monument of
London's prodigality and folly." The interior of an Elizabethan playhouse
must have presented an unusually picturesque scene, with its mass of
colouring in the costume of the spectators; while the actors, moving, as
it were, on the same plane as the audience, and having attention so
closely and exclusively directed to them, were of necessity appropriately
and brilliantly attired. We hear much from the superficial student about
the "board being hung up chalked with the words, 'This is a wood,' when
the action of the play took place in a forest." But this is an impression
apparently founded upon Sir Philip Sidney's words in his "Apology of
Poetry," written about 1583: "What child is there that, coming to a play
and seeing Thebes written in great letters on an old door, doth believe
that it is Thebes?" And whether these words were "chalked" upon the
outside door of the building admitting to the auditorium, or whether they
appeared exhibited to the eye of the audience on the stage-door of the
tiring-room is not made clear, but this is certain, that there is no
direct evidence yet forthcoming to prove that boards were ever used in any
of Shakespeare's dramas or in those of Ben Jonson; and, with some other
dramatists, there is evidence of the name of the play and its locality
being shown in writing, either by the prologue, or hung up on one of the
posts of the auditorium. Shakespeare himself considered it to be the
business of the dramatist to describe the scene, and to call the attention
of the audience to each change in locality, and moreover he does this so
skilfully as to make his scenic descriptions appear as part of the
natural dialogue of the play. The naked action was assisted by the poetry;
and much that now seems superfluous in the descriptive passages was needed
to excite imagination. With reference to this question, Halliwell
Phillipps very justly remarks: "There can be no doubt that Shakespeare, in
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file was produced from images generously made available
by the Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica) at
http://gallica.bnf.fr)
[Transcriber's Notes:
About this book: _The Art or crafte of Rhetoryke_ was originally
published c. 1530; the second edition was published in 1532. It is
considered the first book on rhetoric in English.
Typography: This e-book was transcribed from microfiche scans of the
1532 edition. The original line and paragraph breaks, hyphenation,
spelling, capitalization, and punctuation, including the use of a
spaced forward slash (/) for the comma, the use of u for v and vice
versa, and the use of i for j, have been preserved. All apparent
printer errors have also been preserved, and are listed at the end of
this document.
The following alterations have been made:
1. Long-s has been regularized as s.
2. The paragraph symbol, resembling a C in the original, is rendered
as ¶.
3. Superscript letters are preceded by ^.
4. Missing hyphens have been added in brackets, e.g. [-].
5. A decorative capital followed by a capital letter is represented
here as two capital letters, e.g. COnsyderynge.
6. Abbreviations and contractions represented as special characters in
the original have been expanded as noted in the table below. A
"macron" means a horizontal line over a letter. A "cursive semicolon"
is an old-style semicolon somewhat resembling a handwritten z.
"Supralinear" means directly over a letter. "Superscript" means raised
and next to a letter. The "y" referred to below is an Early Modern
English form of the Anglo-Saxon thorn character, representing "th,"
but identical in appearance to the letter "y."
Original Expansion
&c with macron &c[etera]
q with cursive semicolon q[ue]
superscript closed curve [us]
long final s [e]s
crossed p p[er] or p[ar]
p with looped downstroke p[ro]
p with macron p[re]
vowel with macron vowel[m] or vowel[n]
consonant with supralinear upward curve consonant[er]
w with supralinear t w[i]t[h]
y with superscript e y^e (i.e., the)
y with superscript t y^t (i.e., that)
y with macron y[at] (i.e., that)
y with supralinear u y[o]u (i.e., thou)
Greek: Phrases in ancient Greek are transliterated in brackets, e.g.,
[Greek: outos esti].
Pagination: This book was printed as an octavo volume, and was
paginated using a recto-verso scheme. In octavo printing, the printer
uses large sheets of paper folded and cut into eight leaves each,
creating 16 pages. The front of each leaf is the recto page (the
right-hand page in a book); the back of each leaf is the verso page
(the left-hand page in a book). For this book, the printer apparently
used six sheets, lettered A through F, and each leaf is numbered with
a lower-case Roman numeral, i through viii. Thus, for example, the
first leaf (i) from the second sheet (B) is numbered B.i.
In the original, page numbers are printed only on the recto side of
each leaf, and are not printed at all after the fourth or fifth recto
page of each sheet, until the first leaf of the next sheet. For the
reader's convenience, all pages in this e-book, even those without a
printed number in the original, have been numbered in brackets
according to the original format, with the addition of "r" for recto
and "v" for verso. Pages A.i.v and F.viii.r are blank and are not
numbered in this e-book.
Sources consulted: This e-book was prepared from microfiche scans of
the 1532 edition, which can be viewed at the Bibliothèque nationale de
France (BnF/Gallica) website at http://gallica.bnf.fr. The uneven
quality of the scans, and the blackletter font in the original, made
the scans difficult to read in some places. To ensure accuracy, the
transcriber has consulted the following sources:
1. The 2004 electronic transcription by Robert N. Gaines, available in
SGML format from the Arts and Humanities Data Service,
http://ahds.ac.uk. The typography notes above are based in part on the
notes to that transcription.
2. The 1899 reprint edited and annotated by Frederick Ives Carpenter
(University of Chicago Press; facsimile reprint by AMS Press, 1973).]
[A.i.r]
¶ The Art
or crafte of
Rheto-
ryke.
1532
[A.ii.r]
¶ To the reuerende father in god
& his singuler good lorde / the lorde Hugh
Faryngton Abbot of Redynge / his pore
client and perpetuall seruaunt Leonarde
Cockes desyreth longe & prosperouse lyfe
with encreace of honour.
COnsiderynge my spe[-]
ciall good lorde how great[-]
ly and how many ways I
am bounden to your lord-
shyp / and among all other
that in so great a nombre
of counynge men whiche are now within
this region it hath pleased your goodnes
to accepte me as worthy for to haue the
charge of the instruction & bryngynge vp
of suche youth as resorteth to your gra-
mer schole / fou[n]ded by your antecessours in
this your towne of Redynge / I studied a
longe space what thyng I myght do next
the busy & diligent occupienge of my selfe
in your sayd seruyce / to the whiche bothe
conscience and your stipende doth straytly
bynde me / that myght be a significacion
of my faithfull and seruysable hart which
I owe to your lordeshyp / & agayne a long
memory bothe of your singuler and bene-
[A.ii.v] ficiall fauour towarde me: and of myn in-
dustry and diligence employed in your ser-
uyce to some profite: or at the leest way to
some delectacion of the inhabitauntes of
this noble realme now flouryshynge vn-
der the most excellent & victorious prynce
our souerain Lorde kyng Henry the.viii.
¶ And whan I had thus long prepensed
in my mynde what thynge I myght best
chose out: non offred it selfe more conue-
nyent to the profyte of yonge studentes
(which your good lordshyp hath alwayes
tenderly fauoured) and also meter to my
p[ro]fession: than to make som proper werke
of the right pleasaunt and persuadible art
of Rhetorique / whiche as it is very neces-
sary to all suche as wyll either be Aduoca[-]
tes and Proctours in the law: or els apte
to be sent in theyr Prynces Ambassades /
or to be techers of goddes worde in suche
maner as may be moost sensible & accepte
to theyr audience / and finally to all them
hauynge any thyng to purpose or to speke
afore any companye (what someuer they
be) So contraryly I se no science that is
lesse taught & declared to Scolers / which
ought chiefly after the knowlege of Gra-
mer ones had to be instructe in this facul[-]
tie / without the whiche oftentymes the
[A.iii.r] rude vtteraunce of the Aduocate greatly
hindereth and apeyreth his clie[n]tes cause.
Likewise the vnapt disposicion of the pre-
cher (in orderyng his mater) confoundeth
the memory of his herers / and briefly in
declarynge of maters: for lacke of inuen-
cion and order with due elocucion: great
tediousnes is engendred to the multitude
beyng present / by occasion wherof the spe[-]
ker is many tymes ere he haue ended his
tale: either left almost aloon to his no li-
tle confusio[n]: or els (which is a lyke rebuke
to hym) the audience falleth for werynes
of his ineloquent language fast on slepe.
¶ Wyllynge therfore for my parte to help
suche as are desirouse of this Arte (as all
surely ought to be which entende to be re-
garded in any comynaltie) I haue parte-
ly translated out a werke of Rhetorique
wryten in the Latin tongue: and partely
compyled of myn owne: and so made a ly-
tle treatyse in maner of an Introductyon
into this aforesayd Science: and that in
our Englysshe tongue. Remembrynge
that euery good thyng (after the sayeng[e]s
of the Philosopher) the more comon it is:
the more better it is. And furthermore tru[-]
stynge therby to do som pleasure and ease
to suche as haue by negligence or els fals
[A.iii.v] persuacions be put to the lernyng of other
sciences or euer they haue attayned any
meane knowlege of the Latin tongue.
¶ whiche my sayd labour I humbly offre
to your good Lordeshyp / as to the chyefe
maintener & nouryssher of my study / be-
sechynge you / thoughe it be ferre within
your merites done to me / to accepte it as
the fyrst assay of my pore and simple wyt /
which yf it may fyrst please your Lord-
shyp / and nexte the reders / I trust by
the ayde of almyghty god to endyte
other werkes bothe in this facul-
ty and other to the laude of the
hygh godhed / of whome all
goodnes doth procede / and
to your Lordshyps plea-
sure / and to profyte
and delectacion of
the Reder.
[A.iiii.r]
WHo someuer desyreth to be
a good Oratour or to dys-
pute and commune of any
maner thynge / hym beho-
ueth to haue foure thinges.
¶ The fyrst is | 2,177.85311 |
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Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Illustration: To the amazement of everybody, he was trying to steal
home.--Page 257.]
[Transcriber's note: the page number in the Frontispiece's caption was
not linked because the caption's text does not appear anywhere in the
| 2,177.946257 |
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Produced by David Starner, Tiffany Vergon, William Patterson
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
THE
ESPERANTO TEACHER,
A SIMPLE COURSE FOR
NON-GRAMMARIANS.
BY
HELEN FRYER.
TENTH EDITION.
(B.E.A. PUBLICATIONS FUND--No. 3).
All profits from the sale of this book are devoted to the
propaganda of Esperanto.
LONDON:
BRITISH ESPERANTO ASSOCIATION (Incorporated),
17, Hart Street, W.C.I.
* * * * *
PRESENTATION.
Perhaps to no one is Esperanto of more service than to the
non-grammarian. It gives him for a minimum expenditure of time and money
a valuable insight into the principles of grammar and the meaning of
words, while enabling him, after only a few months of study, to get into
communication with his fellow men in all parts of the world.
To place these advantages within easy reach of all is the aim of this
little book. Written by an experienced teacher, revised by Mr. E. A.
Millidge, and based on the exercises of Dr. Zamenhof himself, it merits
the fullest confidence of the student, and may be heartily commended to
all into whose hands it may come.
W. W. PADFIELD.
PREFACE.
This little book has been prepared in the hope of helping those who,
having forgotten the lessons in grammar which they received at school,
find some difficulty in learning Esperanto from the existing textbooks.
It is hoped it will be found useful not only for solitary students, but
also for class work.
The exercises are taken chiefly from the "Ekzercaro" of Dr. Zamenhof.
The compiler also acknowledges her indebtedness especially to the
"Standard Course of Esperanto," by Mr. G. W. Bullen, and to the
"Esperanto Grammar and Commentary," by Major-General Geo. Cox, and while
accepting the whole responsibility for all inaccuracies and crudenesses,
she desires to thank all who have helped in the preparation, and
foremost among them Mr. W. W. Padfield, of Ipswich, for advice and
encouragement throughout the work, and to Mr. E. A. Millidge, for his
unfailing kindness and invaluable counsel and help in its preparation
and revision.
MANNER OF USING THE BOOK.
The student is strongly advised to cultivate the habit of thinking in
Esperanto from the very beginning of the study. To do this he should
try to realise the idea mentally without putting it into English words,
e.g., when learning the word "rozo" or "kolombo," let him bring the
object itself before his mind's eye, instead of repeating "'rozo',
rose; 'kolombo', pigeon"; or with the sentence "'la suno brilas', the
sun shines," let him picture the sun shining. Having studied the lesson
and learned the vocabulary, he should read the exercise, repeating each
sentence aloud until he has become familiar with it and can pronounce
it freely. Then turning to the English translation at the end of the
book, he should write the exercise into Esperanto, compare it with
the original, and re-learn and re-write if necessary. Although this
method may require a little more time and trouble at first, the greater
facility gained in speaking the language will well repay the outlay.
After mastering this book the student should take some reader, such
as "Unua Legolibro," by Dr. Kabe, and then proceed to the "Fundamenta
Krestomatio," the standard work on Esperanto, by Dr. Zamenhof.
A very good Esperanto-English vocabulary is to be found in the
"Esperanto Key," 1/2d., or in "The Whole of Esperanto for a Penny."
THE ORIGIN AND AIM OF ESPERANTO.
A few words as to the origin of Esperanto will perhaps not be out
of place here. The author of the language, Dr. Ludovic Zamenhof, a
Polish Jew, was born on December 3rd, 1859, at Bielovstok, in Poland,
a town whose inhabitants are of four distinct races, Poles, Russians,
Germans, and Jews, each with their own language and customs, and
often at open enmity with each other. Taught at home that all men are
brethren, Zamenhof found everywhere around him outside the denial of
this teaching, and even as a child came to the conclusion that the races
hated, because they could not understand, each other. Feeling keenly,
too, the disabilities under which his people specially laboured, being
cut off by their language from the people among whom they lived, while
too proud to learn the language of their persecutors, he set himself to
invent a language which should be neutral and therefore not require any
sacrifice of pride on the part of any race.
Interesting as is the story of Zamenhof's attempts and difficulties, it
must suffice here to say that at the end of 1878 the new language was
sufficiently advanced for him to impart it to schoolfellows like-minded
with himself, and on December 17th of that year they feted its birth,
and sang a hymn in the new language, celebrating the reign of unity and
peace which should be brought about by its means, "All mankind must
be united in one family." But the enthusiasm of its first followers
died down under the derision they encountered, and for nine years more
Zamenhof worked in secret at his language, translating, composing,
writing original articles, improving, polishing, till in 1887 he
published his first book under the title of "An International Language
by Dr. Esperanto." ("Esperanto" means "one who hopes").
That the idea which impelled the young Zamenhof to undertake such a work
is still the mainspring of his devotion to the cause is shown by the
following extract from his opening speech at the second International
Esperanto Congress in 1906:--"We are all conscious that it is not
the thought of its practical utility which inspires us to work for
Esperanto, but only the thought of the important and holy idea which
underlies an international language. This idea, you all know, is that
of: brotherhood and justice among all peoples." And, again, in his
presidential address at the third Esperanto Congress, held this year
(1907) at Cambridge, he said, "We are constantly repeating that we do
not wish to interfere in the internal life of the nations, but only to
build a bridge between the peoples. The ideal aim of Esperantists, never
until now exactly formulated, but always clearly felt, is: To establish
a neutral foundation, on which the various races of mankind may hold
peaceful, brotherly intercourse, without intruding on each other their
racial differences."
Sur neuxtrala lingva fundamento,
Komprenante unu la alian,
La popoloj faros en konsento
Unu grandan rondon familian.
(On the foundation of a neutral language,
Understanding one another,
The peoples will form in agreement
One great family circle).
HELEN FRYER.
December, 1907.
THE ALPHABET.
SOUNDS OF THE LETTERS.
In Esperanto each letter has only one sound, and each sound is
represented in only one way. The words are pronounced exactly as spelt,
every letter being sounded.
Those CONSONANTS which in English have one simple sound only are exactly
the same in Esperanto; they are--b, d, f, k, l, m, n, p, r, t, v, z (r
must be well rolled).
q, w, x, y are not used.
c, g, h, s, which in English represent more than one sound, and j are
also used with the mark ^--
c cx, g gx, h hx, j jx, s sx.
c - (whose two English sounds are represented by k and s) has the sound
of TS, as in iTS, TSar.
cx - like CH, TCH, in CHurCH, maTCH.
g - hard, as in Go, GiG, Gun.
gx - soft, as in Gentle, Gem, or like J in Just, Jew.
h - well breathed, as in Horse, Home, How.
hx - strongly breathed, and in the throat, as in the Scotch word loCH.
(Ask any Scotsman to pronounce it). Hx occurs but seldom. It is the
Irish GH in louGH, and the Welsh CH.
j - like Y in Yes, You, or J in halleluJah, fJord.
jx - like S in pleaSure, or the French J, as in deJeuner, Jean d'Arc.
s - like SS in aSS, leSS, never like S in roSe.
sx - like SH in SHe, SHall, SHip, or S in Sugar, Sure.
In newspapers, etc., which have not the proper type, cx, gx, hx, jx, sx
are often replaced by ch, gh, hh, jh, sh, or by c', g', h', j', s', and
ux by u.
ux - is also a consonant, and has the sound of W in We, as EUXropo, or U
in persUade.
The VOWELS a, e, i, o, u have not the English, but the Continental
sounds.
a - always like A in Ah! or in tArt.
e - like E in bEnd, but broader, like E in thEre.
i - is a sound between EE in mEEt and I in Is.
o - like O in fOr, or in the Scottish NO, or AU in AUght.
u - like OO in bOOt, pOOr.
a, e, i, o, u are all simple sounds, that is, the mouth is kept in one
position while they are being sounded. In learning them lengthen them
out, and be careful not to alter the position of the mouth, however long
they are drawn out. In the compound sounds given below the shape of the
mouth changes; to get the correct pronunciation sound each letter fully
and distinctly, gradually bringing them closer until they run together,
when they become almost as follows:--
aj - nearly like AI in AIsle, or I in nIce, fIne.
ej - nearly like EI in vEIn.
oj - nearly like OY in bOY, or OI in vOId.
uj - nearly like UJ in hallelUJah.
aux - like AHW, or nearly OU in hOUse, pronounced broadly, haOUse.
eux - like EHW, or EY W in thEY Were, AYW in wAYWard.
Practise saying aja, eja, oja, uja, auxa, euxa several times quickly.
Then gradually drop the final a.
ACCENT.
The accent or stress is always placed on the syllable before the last,
as es-PE-ro, es-pe-RAN-to, es-pe-ran-TIS-to, es-pe-ran-tis-TI-no; JU-na,
ju-NU-lo, ju-nu-LA-ro. All the syllables must be clearly pronounced, not
slurred over.
EXERCISE IN PRONOUNCIATION.
a - (as in bAth), PAT-ra, LA-na, a-GRA-bla, mal-VAR-ma, KLA-ra,
pa-FA-do.
e - (as in bEnd), BE-la, mEm, fe-NES-tro, ven-DRE-do, tre-E-ge,
le-TE-ro.
i - (as in sEE), mi, I-li, i-MI-ti, vi-ZI-ti, TRIN-ki, in-SIS-ti.
o - (as in fOr), HO-mo, RO-zo, ko-LOM-bo, DOR-mo (the R rolled), MOR-to,
po-PO-lo.
u - (as in bOOt), U-nu, dum, BRU-lu, sur-TU-to, vul-TU-ro, mur-MUR-i.
aj - (as in nIce), ajn, kaj, rAJ-to, taj-LO-ro, FAJ-ro, BE-laj.
ej - (as in plAY), VEJ-no, HEJ-mo, plej, HEJ-to.
oj - (as in bOY), PAT-roj, FOJ-no, HO-mojn, KOJ-no, SOJ-lo, KON-koj.
uj - (as in hallelUJah), tuj, CXI-uj, TI-uj.
aux - (as in cOW), AN | 2,180.555952 |
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Produced by Greg Bergquist, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[Illustration: HERCULES AND THE GOLDEN APPLES]
HALF A HUNDRED
HERO TALES
OF ULYSSES AND THE MEN OF OLD
EDITED BY
FRANCIS STORR
EDITOR OF "THE JOURNAL OF EDUCATION," LONDON
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
FRANK C. PAPE
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1913
COPYRIGHT, 1911,
BY
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
_Published January, 1911_
THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS
RAHWAY, N. J.
PREFACE
The apology offered for adding yet another book of Classical Stories
to the endless existing versions, ancient and modern, in verse and in
prose, is the plea that Vivien offers to Merlin for her "tender
rhyme":
"It lives dispersedly in many hands,
And every minstrel sings it differently."
"You Greeks," said the Egyptian priest to Herodotus, "are always
children," and Greece will never lose the secret of eternal youth. The
tale of Troy divine, of Thebes and Pelops' line, the song of sweet
Colonus, the most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby, Dido with a
willow in her hand--these old stories of Homer and Sophocles, of
Virgil and Ovid, have not lost their gloss and freshness. "The
innocent brightness of a new-born day is lovely yet." They have been
sung or said by Wace and Caxton, by Chaucer and Wordsworth, by Keats
and William Morris; they have been adapted for young readers by
Fenelon, by Niebuhr, by Kingsley, by Hawthorne, and yet the last word
has not been said. Each new editor makes his own selection, chooses
some new facet, or displays the jewel in a new light. As Sainte-Beuve
remarks of "Don Quixote" and other world classics, "One can discover
there something more than the author first of all tried to see there,
and certainly more than he dreamed of putting there."
The present collection of Fifty Stories (there might well have been
five hundred) makes no pretense either of completeness or of
uniformity. Some of the contributors have followed closely the texts,
others have given free play to their fancy, but in every case the
myths have been treated simply as stories and no attempt has been made
either to trace their origin or to indicate their religious or ethical
significance. Most of the stories point their own moral, and need no
more commentary than Jack the Giant-killer or the Sleeping Beauty.
Young readers of to-day resent the sermons even of a Kingsley. From
"Tanglewood Tales," a book that was the joy of our childhood, we have
borrowed ten stories, and have taken the liberty of dividing into
chapters and slightly abridging the longest of Hawthorne's Tales. All
but one of the remaining forty are original versions.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PLUTO AND PROSERPINE 1
By H. P. Maskell
PAN AND SYRINX 5
By Mrs. Guy E. Lloyd
THE STORY OF PHAETON 13
By M. M. Bird
ARETHUSA 19
By V. C. Turnbull
THE STORY OF DAPHNE 24
By M. M. Bird
DEUCALION AND PYRRHA 28
By M. M. Bird
EPIMETHEUS AND PANDORA 33
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
EUROPA AND THE GOD-BULL 50
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
CADMUS AND THE DRAGON'S TEETH 65
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 83
By V. C. Turnbull
HERCULES AND THE GOLDEN APPLES 89
I. HERCULES AND THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
HERCULES AND THE GOLDEN APPLES 98
II. HERCULES AND ATLAS
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
HERCULES AND NESSUS 107
By H. P. Maskell
THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE 111
By M. M. Bird
HOW THESEUS FOUND HIS FATHER 124
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
THESEUS AND THE WITCH MEDEA 131
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
THESEUS GOES TO SLAY THE MINOTAUR 138
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
THESEUS AND ARIADNE 144
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
PARIS AND OENONE 154
By V. C. Turnbull
IPHIGENIA 161
By Mrs. Guy E. Lloyd
PROTESILAUS 166
By Mrs. Guy E. Lloyd
THE DEATH OF HECTOR 173
By V. C. Turnbull
THE WOODEN HORSE 180
By F. Storr
THE SACK OF TROY 185
By F. Storr
THE DEATH OF AJAX 191
By F. Storr
THE FLIGHT OF AENEAS FROM TROY 196
By F. Storr
AENEAS AND DIDO 201
By V. C. Turnbull
AENEAS IN HADES 209
By V. C. Turnbull
NISUS AND EURYALUS 217
By F. Storr
ULYSSES IN HADES 224
By M. M. Bird
CIRCE'S PALACE 232
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
ULYSSES AND THE CYCLOPS 262
By Hope Moncrieff
THE SIRENS 271
By V. C. Turnbull
THE STORY OF NAUSICAA 275
By M. M. Bird
THE HOMECOMING OF ULYSSES 283
By M. M. Bird
BAUCIS AND PHILEMON 292
By H. P. Maskell
HYPERMNESTRA 296
By V. C. Turnbull
OEDIPUS AT COLONOS 302
By Mrs. Guy E. Lloyd
MIDAS 308
By H. P. Maskell
PERSEUS AND ANDROMEDA 313
By V. C. Turnbull
MELEAGER AND ATALANTA 320
By H. P. Maskell
THE STORY OF DAEDALUS AND ICARUS 326
By M. M. Bird
SCYLLA, THE DAUGHTER OF NISUS 330
By Mrs. Guy E. Lloyd
THE STORY OF PYRAMUS AND THISBE 340
By M. M. Bird
HERO AND LEANDER 344
By Mrs. Guy E. Lloyd
PYGMALION AND THE IMAGE 352
By F. Storr
CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS 359
By H. P. Maskell
ECHO AND NARCISSUS 364
By Thomas Bulfinch
THE RING OF POLYCRATES 369
By M. M. Bird
ROMULUS AND REMUS 375
By Mrs. Guy E. Lloyd
ILLUSTRATIONS
HERCULES AND THE GOLDEN APPLES _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
THE STORY OF DAPHNE 26
HERCULES AND NESSUS 108
THESEUS GOES TO SLAY THE MINOTAUR 138
AENEAS IN HADES 212
ULYSSES AND THE CYCLOPS 266
PERSEUS AND ANDROMEDA 316
ROMULUS AND REMUS 380
HALF A HUNDRED HERO TALES
PLUTO AND PROSERPINE
BY H. P. MASKELL
In the very heart of Sicily are the groves of Enna--a land of flowers
and rippling streams, where the spring-tide lasts all through the
year. Thither Proserpine, daughter of Ceres, betook herself with her
maidens to gather nosegays of violets and lilies. Eager to secure the
choicest posy, she had wandered far from her companions, when Pluto,
issuing, as was his wont, from his realm of shadows to visit the
earth, beheld her, and was smitten by her childlike beauty. Dropping
her flowers in alarm, the maiden screamed for her mother and
attendants. 'Twas in vain; the lover seized her and bore her away in
his chariot of coal-black steeds. Faster and faster sped the team as
their swart master called to each by name and shook the reins on their
necks. Through deep lakes they sped, by dark pools steaming with
volcanic heat, and on past the twin harbors of Syracuse.
When they came to the abode of Cyane, the nymph rose up from her
crystal pool and perceived Pluto. "No farther shalt thou go!" she
cried. "A maiden must be asked of her parents, not stolen away against
her mother's will!" For answer the wrathful son of Saturn lashed his
foam-flecked steeds. He hurled his royal scepter into the very bed of
the stream. Forthwith the earth opened, making a way down into
Tartarus; and the chariot vanished through the yawning cave, leaving
Cyane dissolved in tears of grief for the ravished maiden and her own
slighted domain.
Meanwhile Ceres, anxious mother, had heard her daughter's cry for
help. Through every clime and every sea she sought and sought in vain.
From dawn to dewy eve she sought, and by night she pursued the quest
with torches kindled by the flames of AEtna. Then, by Enna's lake, she
found the scattered flowers and shreds of the torn robe, but further
traces there were none.
Weary and overcome with thirst, she chanced on a humble cottage and
begged at the door for a cup of water. The goodwife brought out a
pitcher of home-made barley wine, which she drained at a draught. An
impudent boy jeered at the goddess, and called her "toss-pot." Dire
and swift was the punishment that overtook him. Ceres sprinkled over
him the few drops that remained; and, changed into a speckled newt, he
crept away into a cranny.
Too long would be the tale of all the lands and seas where the goddess
sought for her child. When she had visited every quarter of the world
she returned once more to Sicily. Cyane, had she not melted away in
her grief, might have told all. Still, however, on Cyane's pool the
girdle of Proserpine was found floating, and thus the mother knew that
her daughter had been carried off by force. When this was brought home
to her, she tore her hair and beat her breast. Not as yet did she know
the whole truth, but she vowed vengeance against all the earth, and on
Sicily most of all, the land of her bereavement. No longer, she
complained, was ungrateful man worthy of her gifts of golden grain.
A famine spread through all the land. Plowshares broke while they were
turning the clods, the oxen died of pestilence, and blight befell the
green corn. An army of birds picked up the seed as fast as it was
sown; thistles, charlock, and tares sprang up in myriads and choked
the fields before the ear could show itself.
Then Arethusa, the river nymph, who had traveled far beneath the ocean
to meet in Sicily her lover Alpheus, raised her head in pity for the
starving land, and cried to Ceres: "O mourning mother, cease thy
useless quest, and be not angered with a land which is faithful to
thee. While I was wandering by the river Styx I beheld thy Proserpine.
Her looks were grave, yet not as of one forlorn. Take comfort! She is
a queen, and chiefest of those who dwell in the world of darkness. She
is the bride of the infernal king."
Ceres was but half consoled, and her wrath was turned from Sicily to
the bold ravisher of her daughter. She hastened to Olympus, and laid
her plaint before Jupiter. She urged that her daughter must be
restored to her. If only Pluto would resign possession of Proserpine,
she would forgive the ravisher.
Jupiter answered mildly: "This rape of the god lover can scarce be
called an injury. Pluto is my brother, and like me a king, except that
he reigns below, whereas I reign above. Give your consent, and he will
be no disgrace as a son-in-law."
Still Ceres was resolved to fetch her daughter back, and Jupiter at
length agreed that it should be so on condition that Proserpine,
during her sojourn in the shades, had allowed no food to pass her
lips.
In joy the mother hurried down to Tartarus and demanded her daughter.
But the fates were against her. The damsel had broken her fast. As
she wandered in the fair gardens of Elysium she had picked a
pomegranate from the bending tree, and had eaten seven of the sweet
purple seeds. Only one witness had seen her in the fatal act. This was
Ascalaphus, a courtier of Pluto, who some say had first put it into
the mind of the king to carry off Proserpine. In revenge for this
betrayal, Ceres changed him into an owl, and doomed him ever after to
be a bird of ill-omen who cannot bear the light of day, and whose
nightly hooting portends ill tidings to mortals.
But Ceres was not doomed to lose Proserpine utterly. Jupiter decreed
that for six months of each year her daughter was to reign in dark
Tartarus by Pluto's side; for the other six months she was to return
to earth and dwell with her mother. Joy returned to the mother's
saddened heart; the barren earth at her bidding once more brought
forth its increase. Soon the fields were smiling with golden corn, and
the mellow grapes hung heavy on the vines, and once again that favored
land became the garden of the world.
PAN AND SYRINX
BY MRS. GUY E. LLOYD
Long ages ago in the pleasant land of Arcadia, where the kindly
shepherds fed their flocks on the green hills, there lived a fair
maiden named Syrinx. Even as a tiny child she loved to toddle forth
from her father's house and lose herself in the quiet woods. Often
were they forced to seek long and far before they found her, when the
dew was falling and the stars coming out in the dark blue sky; but
however late it was, they never found her afraid nor eager to be safe
at home. Sometimes she was curled up on the soft moss under the
shelter of a spreading tree, fast asleep; sometimes she was lying by
the side of a stream listening to the merry laughter of the water;
sometimes, sitting over the stones upon the hillside, she would be
watching with wonder and delight the lady moon, with her bright train
of clouds, racing across the sky as if in hot chase.
Years passed on, and Syrinx grew into a tall and slender maiden, with
long fair hair and great gray eyes, with a look in them that made her
seem to be always listening. Out in the woods there are so many sounds
for any one who has ears to hear--the different notes of the birds,
the hum of the insects, the swift, light rustle as some furry
four-legged hunter creeps through the underwood. Then there is the
pleasant, happy murmur of the breeze among the leaves, with a
different sound in it for every different tree, or the wild shriek of
the gale that rends the straining branches, or the bubbling of the
spring, or the prattle of the running stream, or the plash of the
waterfall. Many are the sounds of the woods, and Syrinx knew and loved
them all until
"Beauty born of murmuring sound,
Had passed into her face."
"Have a care, Syrinx," her playfellows would say sometimes. "If you
wander alone in the woods, some day you will see the terrible god
Pan."
"I should like well to see him," the maiden made answer one day to an
old crone who thus warned her. "The great god Pan loves the woods and
everything that lives in them, and so do I. We must needs be friends
if we meet."
The old woman looked at her in horror and amaze. "You know not what
you say, child," she made answer. "Some aver that none can look upon
Pan and live, but of that I am none so sure, for I have heard of
shepherds to whom he has spoken graciously, and they never the worse
for it. But of this there is no doubt--whoever hears the shout of Pan
runs mad with the sound of it. So be not too venturesome, or evil will
come of it."
Now Syrinx might have taken warning from these wise and kindly words.
As it was, she treasured them, and only wondered what this god could
be like, the sound of whose shout made men run mad. She feared to see
him, and would have run swiftly away if she had caught a glimpse of
him, and yet she went continually to the far and silent groves
whither, so the shepherds said, Pan was most wont to resort.
It chanced one day that Syrinx had wandered farther than was her wont;
she had been in the woods since daybreak, and now it was high noon.
She was tired and hot, and lay down to rest on a bank beneath a tall
ash tree that was all covered with ivy, and resting there she soon
fell fast asleep. While she slept the wild things of the woods came to
look upon her with wonder. A doe that was passing with her fawn stood
for a moment gazing mildly upon the maiden, and the fawn stooped and
licked her fingers, but at the touch Syrinx stirred in her sleep and
both doe and fawn bounded away among the bushes. A little squirrel
dropped lightly from a tree and sat up close beside her, his tail
curled jauntily over his back, his bright eyes fixed upon her face.
The little furry rabbits first peeped at her out of their holes, and
then growing bolder came quite close and sat with their soft paws
tucked down and their ears cocked very stiffly, listening to her quiet
breathing. And last of all, stepping noiselessly over the grass, came
the lord of all the wild things, the great god Pan himself.
His legs and feet were like those of a goat, so that he could move
more quickly and lightly than the wild gazelle, and his ears were long
and pointed--ears like those of a squirrel, so that he could hear the
stirring of a nestling not yet out of its egg. Softly he drew nigh to
the maiden, and there was a wicked | 2,180.654188 |
2023-11-16 18:53:24.7280750 | 282 | 13 | DISCONTENTS***
Transcribed from the 1886 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org and proofing by David, Terry L. Jeffress, Edgar A.
Howard.
THOUGHTS
ON THE
PRESENT DISCONTENTS,
AND
SPEECHES
BY
EDMUND BURKE.
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:
_LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_.
1886.
Contents
Introduction
Thoughts on the Present Discontents
Speech on the Middlesex Election.
Speech on the Powers of Juries in Prosecutions for Libels.
Speech on a Bill for Shortening the Duration of Parliaments
Speech on Reform of Representation in the House of Commons
INTRODUCTION
Edmund Burke was born at Dublin on the first of January, 1730. His
father was an attorney, who had fifteen children, of whom all but four
died in their youth. Edmund, the second son, being of delicate health in
his childhood, was taught at home and at his grandfather's house in the
country before he was sent with his two brothers Garrett and Richard to a
school at Ballitore, under Abraham Shackleton, a member of the Society of
Friends. For nearly forty years afterwards Burke paid an annual | 2,180.748115 |
2023-11-16 18:53:24.8279110 | 842 | 9 |
Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Prepared from
scans made by the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin. The digitized
holdings of the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin are all
interested parties worldwide free of charge for
non-commercial use available.)
GAZETTEER
OF THE
BOMBAY PRESIDENCY
VOLUME I. PART I.
HISTORY OF GUJARÁT.
UNDER GOVERNMENT ORDERS.
BOMBAY:
PRINTED AT THE GOVERNMENT CENTRAL PRESS.
1896.
Bombay Castle, 14th February 1902.
In further recognition of the distinguished labours of Sir James
McNabb Campbell, K.C.I.E., and of the services rendered by those
who have assisted him in his work, His Excellency the Governor in
Council is pleased to order that the following extract from Government
Resolution No. 2885, dated the 11th August 1884, be republished and
printed immediately after the title page of Volume I, Part I, of the
Gazetteer, and published in every issue:
"His Excellency the Governor in Council has from time to time
expressed his entire approval of the Volumes of the Gazetteer
already published, and now learns with much satisfaction that
the remaining Statistical Accounts have been completed in
the same elaborate manner. The task now brought to a close by
Mr. Campbell has been very arduous. It has been the subject of
his untiring industry for more than ten years, in the earlier
part of which period, however, he was occasionally employed on
additional duties, including the preparation of a large number
of articles for the Imperial Gazetteer. When the work was begun,
it was not anticipated that so much time would be required for
its completion, because it was not contemplated that it would
be carried out on so extensive a scale. Its magnitude may be
estimated by the fact that the Statistical Accounts, exclusive of
the general chapters yet to be reprinted, embrace twenty-seven
Volumes containing on an average 500 pages each. Mr. Campbell
could not have sustained the unflagging zeal displayed by him
for so long a period without an intense interest in the subjects
dealt with. The result is well worthy of the labour expended,
and is a proof of the rare fitness of Mr. Campbell on the ground
both of literary ability and of power of steady application
for the important duty assigned to him. The work is a record of
historical and statistical facts and of information regarding the
country and the people as complete perhaps as ever was produced
on behalf of any Government, and cannot fail to be of the utmost
utility in the future administration of the Presidency.
"2. The thanks of Government have already been conveyed to the
various contributors, and it is only necessary now to add that
they share, according to the importance of their contributions, in
the credit which attaches to the general excellence of the work."
The whole series of Volumes is now complete, and His Excellency in
Council congratulates Sir James Campbell and all associated with him
in this successful and memorable achievement.
H. O. QUIN,
Secretary to Government,
General Department.
The earliest record of an attempt to arrange for the preparation
of Statistical Accounts of the different districts of the Bombay
Presidency is in 1843. In 1843 Government called on the Revenue
Commissioner to obtain from all the Collectors as part of their next
Annual Report the fullest available information regarding their
districts. [1] The information was specially to include their own
and their Assistants' observations on the state of the cross and
other roads not under the superintendence of a separate department,
on the | 2,180.847951 |
2023-11-16 18:53:24.9305710 | 7,074 | 105 |
Transcribed from the 1860 William Tinsley edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org
ABOUT LONDON.
* * * * *
BY
J. EWING RITCHIE,
Author of "Night Side of London;" "The London Pulpit;"
"Here and There in London," &c.
* * * * *
* * * * *
"The boiling town keeps secrets ill."--AURORA LEIGH.
* * * * *
* * * * *
LONDON:
WILLIAM TINSLEY, 314, STRAND.
1860.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The author of the following pages, must plead as his apology for again
trespassing on the good nature of the public, the success of his other
books. He is aware that, owing to unavoidable circumstances, the volume
here and there bears marks of haste, but he trusts that on the whole it
may be considered reliable, and not altogether unworthy of the public
favour.
* * * * *
FINCHLEY,
_June_ 16_th_, 1860.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE.
NEWSPAPER PEOPLE 1
CHAPTER II.
SPIRITUALISM 12
CHAPTER III.
ABOUT COAL 23
CHAPTER IV.
HIGHGATE 44
CHAPTER V.
TOM TIDDLER'S GROUND 60
CHAPTER VI.
WESTMINSTER ABBEY 68
CHAPTER VII.
LONDON CHARITIES 76
CHAPTER VIII.
PEDESTRIANISM 84
CHAPTER IX.
OVER LONDON BRIDGE 92
CHAPTER X.
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS AND THE EARLY-CLOSING MOVEMENT 101
CHAPTER XI.
TOWN MORALS 110
CHAPTER XI.
THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED 121
CHAPTER XII.
LONDON MATRIMONIAL 131
CHAPTER XIII.
BREACH OF PROMISE CASES 141
CHAPTER XIV.
COMMERCIAL LONDON 149
CHAPTER XV.
LONDON GENTS 158
CHAPTER XVI.
THE LONDON VOLUNTEERS 165
CHAPTER XVII.
CRIMINAL LONDON 174
CHAPTER XVIII.
CONCERNING CABS 185
CHAPTER XIX.
FREE DRINKING FOUNTAINS 193
CHAPTER XX.
CONCLUSION 203
CHAPTER I.
NEWSPAPER PEOPLE.
What would the Englishman do without his newspaper I cannot imagine. The
sun might just as well refuse to shine, as the press refuse to turn out
its myriads of newspapers. Conversation would cease at once. Brown,
with his morning paper in his hand, has very decided opinions
indeed,--can tell you what the French Emperor is about,--what the Pope
will be compelled to do,--what is the aim of Sardinia,--and what is
Austria's little game. I dined at Jenkins's yesterday, and for three
hours over the wine I was compelled to listen to what I had read in that
morning's _Times_. The worst of it was, that when I joined the ladies I
was no better off, as the dear creatures were full of the particulars of
the grand Rifle Ball. When I travel by the rail, I am gratified with
details of divorce cases--of terrible accidents--of dreadful
shipwrecks--of atrocious murders--of ingenious swindling, all brought to
light by means of the press. What people could have found to talk about
before the invention of newspapers, is beyond my limited comprehension.
They must have been a dull set in those dark days; I suppose the farmers
and country gentlemen talked of bullocks, and tradespeople about trade;
the ladies about fashions, and cookery, and the plague of bad servants.
We are wonderfully smarter now, and shine, though it be with a borrowed
light.
A daily newspaper is, to a man of my way of thinking, one of the most
wonderful phenomena of these latter days. It is a crown of glory to our
land. It is true, in some quarters, a contrary opinion is held. "The
press," Mr. David Urquhart very seriously tells us, "is an invention for
the development of original sin." In the opinion of that amiable cynic,
the late Mr. Henry Drummond, a newspaper is but a medium for the
circulation of gossip; but, in spite of individuals, the general fact
remains that the press is not merely a wonderful organization, but an
enormous power in any land--in ours most of all, where public opinion
rules more or less directly. Our army in the Crimea was saved by the
_Times_. When the _Times_ turned, free-trade was carried. The _Times_
not long since made a panic, and securities became in some cases utterly
unsaleable, and some seventy stockbrokers were ruined. The _Times_ says
we don't want a Reform Bill, and Lord John can scarce drag his measure
through the Commons. But it is not of the power, but of the organization
of the press I would speak. According to geologists, ages passed away
before this earth of ours became fit for human habitation; volcanic
agencies were previously to be in action--plants and animals, that exist
not now, were to be born, and live, and die--tropical climates were to
become temperate, and oceans, solid land. In a similar way, the
newspaper is the result of agencies and antecedents almost equally
wondrous and remote. For ages have science, and nature, and man been
preparing its way. Society had to become intellectual--letters had to be
invented--types had to be formed--paper had to be substituted for
papyrus--the printing-press had to become wedded to steam--the
electric-telegraph had to be discovered, and the problem of liberty had
to be solved, in a manner more or less satisfactory, before a newspaper,
as we understand the word, could be; and that we have the fruit of all
this laid on our breakfast-table every morning, for at the most
five-pence, and at the least one-penny, is wonderful indeed. But,
instead of dwelling on manifest truisms, let us think awhile of a
newspaper-office, and those who do business there. Externally, there is
nothing remarkable in a newspaper-office. You pass by at night, and see
many windows lighted with gas, that is all. By daylight there is nothing
to attract curiosity, indeed, in the early part of the day, there is
little going on at a newspaper-office. When you and I are hard at work,
newspaper people are enjoying their night; when you and I are asleep,
they are hard at work for us. They have a hot-house appearance, and are
rarely octogenarians. The conscientious editor of a daily newspaper can
never be free from anxiety. He has enough to do to keep all to their
post; he must see that the leader-writers are all up to the mark--that
the reporters do their duty--that the literary critic, and the theatrical
critic, and the musical critic, and the city correspondent, and the
special reporter, and the host of nameless contributors, do not
disappoint or deceive the public, and that every day the daily sheet
shall have something in it to excite, or inform, or improve. But while
you and I are standing outside, the editor, in some remote suburb, is, it
may be, dreaming of pleasanter things than politics and papers. One man,
however, is on the premises, and that is the manager. He represents the
proprietors, and is, in his sphere, as great a man as the editor. It is
well to be deferential to the manager. He is a wonder in his
way,--literary man, yet man of business. He must know everybody, be able
at a moment's notice to pick the right man out, and send him, it may be,
to the Antipodes. Of all events that are to come off in the course of
the year, unexpected or the reverse, he must have a clear and distinct
perception, that he may have eye-witnesses there for the benefit of the
British public. He, too, must contrive, so that out-goings shall not
exceed receipts, and that the paper pays. He must be active, wide-awake,
possessed of considerable tact, and if, when an Irish gentleman, with a
big stick, calls and asks to see the editor or manager, he knows how to
knock a man down, so much the better. Of course, managers are not
required for the smaller weeklies. In some of the offices there is very
little subdivision of labour. The editor writes the leaders and reviews,
and the sub-editor does the paste-and-scissors work. But let us return
to the daily paper;--outside of the office of which we have been so rude
as to leave the reader standing all this while.
At present there is no sign of life. It is true, already the postman has
delivered innumerable letters from all quarters of the globe--that the
electric telegraph has sent its messages--that the railways have brought
their despatches--that the publishers have furnished books of all sorts
and sizes for review--and that tickets from all the London exhibitions
are soliciting a friendly notice. There let them lie unheeded, till the
coming man appears. Even the publisher, who was here at five o'clock in
the morning, has gone home: only a few clerks, connected with the
financial department of the paper, or to receive advertisements, are on
the spot. We may suppose that somewhere between one and two the first
editorial visit will be paid, and that then this chaos is reduced to
order; and that the ideas, which are to be represented in the paper of
to-morrow, are discussed, and the daily organs received, and gossip of
all sorts from the clubs--from the house--from the city--collected and
condensed; a little later perhaps assistants arrive--one to cull all the
sweets from the provincial journals--another to look over the files of
foreign papers--another it may be to translate important documents. The
great machine is now getting steadily at work. Up in the composing-room
are printers already fingering their types.
In the law-courts, a briefless barrister is taking notes--in the
police-courts, reporters are at work, and far away in the city, "our city
correspondent" is collecting the commercial news of the hour--and in all
parts of London penny-a-liners, like eagles scenting carrion, are
ferreting out for the particulars of the last "extraordinary elopement,"
or "romantic suicide." The later it grows the more gigantic becomes the
pressure. The parliamentary reporters are now furnishing their quota;
gentlemen who have been assisting at public-dinners come redolent of
post-prandial eloquence, which has to be reduced to sense and grammar.
It is now midnight, and yet we have to wait the arrival of the close of
the parliamentary debate, on which the editor must write a leader before
he leaves; and the theatrical critic's verdict on the new play. In the
meanwhile the foreman of the printers takes stock, being perfectly aware
that he cannot perform the wonderful feat of making a pint bottle hold a
quart. Woe is me! he has already half a dozen columns in excess. What
is to be done? Well, the literature must stand over, that's very clear,
then those translations from the French will do to-morrow, and this
report will also not hurt by delay--as to the rest, that must be cut down
and still further condensed; but quickly, for time is passing, and we
must be on the machine at three. Quickly fly the minutes--hotter becomes
the gas-lit room--wearier the editorial staff. But the hours bring
relief. The principal editor has done his leader and departed--the
assistants have done the same--so have the reporters, only the sub-editor
remains, and as daylight is glimmering in the east, and even fast London
is asleep, he quietly lights a cigar, and likewise departs; the printers
will follow as soon as the forms have gone down, and the movements below
indicate that the machine, by the aid of steam, is printing.
We have thus seen most of the newspaper people off the premises. As we
go out into the open air, we may yet find a few of them scorning an
ignoble repose. For instance, there is a penny-a-liner--literally he is
not a penny-a-liner, as he is generally paid three-farthings a line, and
very good pay that is, as the same account, written on very thin paper,
called flimsy, is left at all the newspaper-offices, which, if they all
insert, they all pay for, and one short tale may put the penny-a-liner in
funds for a week. The penny-a-liner has long been the butt of a
heartless world. He ought to be a cynic, and I fear is but an
indifferent Christian, and very so-so as head of a family. His
appearance is somewhat against him, and his antecedents are eccentric;
his face has a beery appearance; his clothes are worn in defiance of
fashion; neither his hat nor his boots would be considered by a swell as
the correct stilton; you would scarce take him as the representative of
the potent fourth estate. Yet penny-a-liner's rise; one of them is now
the editor of a morning paper; another is the manager of a commercial
establishment, with a salary of almost a thousand a year; but chiefly, I
imagine, they are jolly good fellows going down the hill. Charles Lamb
said he never greatly cared for the society of what are called good
people. The penny-a-liners have a similar weakness; they are true
Bohemians, and are prone to hear the chimes at midnight. Literally, they
take no thought for to-morrow, and occasionally are put to hard shifts.
Hence it is sub-editors have to be on their guard with their dealings
with them. Their powers of imagination and description are great. They
are prone to harrow up your souls with horrors that never existed; and as
they are paid by the line, a harsh prosaic brevity is by no means their
fault. Occasionally they take in the papers. Not long since a most
extraordinary breach of promise case went the round of the evening
papers, which was entirely a fiction of the penny-a-liners. Yet let us
not think disparagingly of them--of a daily newspaper no small part is
the result of their diligent research. And if they do occasionally
indulge in fiction, their fictions are generally founded on fact. The
reader, if he be a wise man, will smile and pass on--a dull dog will take
the matter seriously and make an ass of himself. For instance, only this
very year, there was a serious controversy about Disraeli's literary
piracies, as they were called in the _Manchester Examiner_. It appears a
paragraph was inserted in an obscure London journal giving an account of
an evening party at Mr. Gladstone's, at which Mr. Disraeli had been
present--an event just as probable as that the Bishop of Oxford would
take tea at Mr. Spurgeon's. Mr. Disraeli's remarks were reported, and
the paragraph--notwithstanding its glaring absurdity--was quoted in the
_Manchester Examiner_. Some acute reader remembered to have read a
similar conversation attributed to Coleridge, and immediately wrote to
the _Examiner_ to that effect. The letter was unhandsomely inserted with
a bold heading,--several letters were inserted on the same subject, and
hence, just because a poor penny-a-liner at his wits' end doctored up a
little par, and attributed a very old conversation to Mr. Disraeli, the
latter is believed in Cottonopolis guilty of a piracy, Cottonopolis being
all the more ready to believe this of Mr. Disraeli, as the latter
gentleman is at the head of a party not supposed to be particularly
attached to the doctrines of what are termed the Manchester School.
Really editors and correspondents should be up to these little dodges,
and not believe all they see in print.
I would also speak of another class of newspaper people--the newspaper
boy, agile as a lamp-lighter, sharp in his glances as a cat. The
newspaper boy is of all ages, from twelve to forty, but they are all
alike, very disorderly, and very ardent politicians; and while they are
waiting in the publishing-office for their papers they are prone to
indulge in political gossip, after the manner of their betters at the
west-end clubs. On the trial of Bernard, the excitement among the
newspaper boys was very great. I heard some of them, on the last day of
the trial, confess to having been too excited all that day to do
anything; their admiration of the speech of Edwin James was intense. A
small enthusiast near me said to another, "That ere James is the fellow
to work 'em; didn't he pitch hin to the hemperor?"
"Yes," said a sadder and wiser boy; "yes, he's all werry well, but he'd a
spoke on t'other side just as well if he'd been paid."
"No; would he?"
"Yes, to be sure."
"Well, that's wot I call swindling."
"No, it ain't. They does their best. Them as pays you, you works for."
Whether the explanation was satisfactory I can't say, as the small boy's
master's name was called, and he vanished with "two quire" on his
youthful head. But generally these small boys prefer wit to politics;
they are much given to practical jokes at each other's expense, and have
no mercy for individual peculiarities. Theirs is a hard life, from five
in the morning, when the daily papers commence publishing, to seven in
the evening, when the second edition of the _Sun_ with the _Gazette_
appears. What becomes of them when they cease to be newspaper boys, must
be left to conjecture. Surely such riotous youths can never become
tradesmen in a small way, retailers of greens, itinerant dealers in coal.
Do not offend these gentry if you are a newspaper proprietor. Their
power for mischief is great. At the _Illustrated __News_ office I have
seen a policeman required to reduce them to order.
Finally, of all newspaper people, high or low, let me ask the public to
speak charitably. They are hard-worked, they are not over-paid, and some
of them die prematurely old. Ten years of night-work in the office of a
daily newspaper is enough to kill any man, even if he has the
constitution of a horse; one can't get on without them; and it is a sad
day for his family when Paterfamilias misses his paper. Whigs, tories,
prelates, princes, valiant warriors, and great lawyers, are not so
essential to the daily weal of the public, as newspaper people. In other
ways they are useful--the great British naturalist, Mr. Yarell, was a
newspaper vendor.
CHAPTER II.
SPIRITUALISM.
In the _Morning Star_, a few months since, appeared a letter from William
Howitt, intimating that if the religious public wished to hear a man
truly eloquent and religious, a Christian and a genius, they could not do
better than go and hear the Rev. Mr. Harris. Accordingly, one Sunday in
January, we found ourselves part of a respectable congregation, chiefly
males, assembled to hear the gentleman aforesaid. The place of meeting
was the Music Hall, Store-street; the reverend gentleman occupying the
platform, and the audience filling up the rest of the room. It is
difficult to judge of numbers, but there must have been four or five
hundred persons present. Mr. Harris evidently is an American, is, we
should imagine, between thirty and forty, and with his low black
eye-brows, and black beard, and sallow countenance, has not a very
prepossessing appearance. He had very much of the conventional idea of
the methodist parson. I do not by this imply that the conventional idea
is correct, but simply that we have such a conventional idea, and that
Mr. Harris answers to it. As I have intimated that I believe Mr. Harris
is an American, I need not add that he is thin, and that his figure is of
moderate height. The subject on which he preached was the axe being laid
at the foot of the tree, and at considerable length--the sermon lasted
more than an hour--the reverend gentleman endeavoured to show that men
lived as God was in them, and that we were not to judge from a few
outward signs that God was in them, and, as instances of men filled and
inspired by God's Spirit, we had our Saxon Alfred, Oliver Cromwell, and
Florence Nightingale. In the prayer and sermon of the preacher there was
very little to indicate that he was preaching a new gospel. The
principal thing about him was his action, which, in some respects,
resembled that of the great American Temperance orator, Mr. Gough. Mr.
Harris endeavours as much as possible to dramatise his sermon. He stands
on tiptoe, or he sinks down into his desk, he points his finger, and
shrugs up his shoulders. He has a considerable share of poetical and
oratorical power, but he does not give you an idea of much literary
culture. He does not bear you away "far, far above this lower world, up
where eternal ages roll." You find that it was scarce worth while coming
all the way from New York to London, unless the Rev. Gentleman has much
more to say, and in a better manner, than the sermon delivered in
Store-street. Of course I am not a Spiritualist. I am one of the
profane--I am little better than one of the wicked, though I, and all men
who are not beasts, feel that man is spirit as well as flesh; that he is
made in the image of his Maker; that the inspiration of the Almighty
giveth him understanding. Spiritualism in this sense is old as Adam and
Eve, old as the day when Jehovah, resting from his labours, pronounced
them to be good. But this is not the Spiritualism of Mr. Harris, and of
the organ of his denomination, _The Spiritual Magazine_. That spirits
appear to us--that they move tables--that they express their meaning by
knocks, form the great distinctive peculiarity of Spiritualism, and they
are things which people in our days are many of them more and more
beginning to believe. At any rate the Spiritualists of the new school
ought not to be angry with us. Mr. Howitt writes, "Moles don't believe
in eagles, nor even skylarks; they believe in the solid earth and
earth-worms;--things which soar up into the air, and look full at the
noon sun, and perch on the tops of mountains, and see wide prospect of
the earth and air, of men and things, are utterly incomprehensible, and
therefore don't exist, to moles. Things which, like skylarks, mount also
in the air, to bathe their tremulous pinions in the living aether, and in
the floods of golden sunshine, and behold the earth beneath; the more
green, and soft, and beautiful, because they see the heavens above them,
and pour out exulting melodies which are the fruits and streaming
delights of and in these things, are equally incomprehensible to moles,
which, having only eyes of the size of pins' heads, and no ears that
ordinary eyes can discover, neither _can_ see the face of heaven, nor
hear the music of the spheres, nor any other music. Learned pigs don't
believe in pneumatology, nor in astronomy, but in gastronomy. They
believe in troughs, pig-nuts, and substantial potatoes. Learned pigs
_see_ the wind, or have credit for it--but that other [Greek text], which
we translate SPIRIT, they most learnedly ignore. Moles and learned pigs
were contemporaries of Adam, and have existed in all ages, and,
therefore, they _know_ that there are no such things as eagles, or
skylarks and their songs; no suns, skies, heavens, and their orbs, or
even such sublunary objects as those we call men and things. They _know_
that there is nothing real, and that there are no genuine entities, but
comfortable dark burrows, earthworms, pig-troughs, pig-nuts, potatoes,
and the like substantials." If this be so,--and Mr. Howitt is an old man
and ought to know, especially when he says there are not in London at
this time half-a-dozen literary or scientific men who, had they lived in
Christ's time, would have believed in him--well, there is no hope for us.
Spiritualism is beyond our reach; it is a thing too bright for us. It is
high, we cannot attain unto it. The other Sunday night, Mr. Harris was
very spiritual, at any rate, very impractical and unworldly. At the
close of the service he informed us that some few of his sermons,
containing an outline of his religious convictions, were for sale at the
doors, and would be sold at one penny and a half, a mere insignificant
sum, just sufficient to cover the expense of paper and printing. On
inquiring, we found, of the three sermons, one was published at
three-halfpence, one at twopence, and one at fourpence, prices which, if
we may judge by the copy we purchased, would yield a fair profit, if the
sale were as great as it seemed to be on Sunday night.
But Mr. Harris is a poet--there is not such another in the universe.
_The Golden Age_ opens thus:--
"As many ages as it took to form
The world, it takes to form the human race.
Humanity was injured at its birth,
And its existence in the past has been
That of a suffering infant. God through Christ
Appearing, healed that sickness, pouring down
Interior life: so Christ our Lord became
The second Adam, through whom all shall live.
This is our faith. The world shall yet become
The home of that great second Adam's seed;
Christ-forms, both male and female, who from Him
Derive their ever-growing perfectness,
Eventually shall possess the earth,
And speak the rythmic language of the skies,
And mightier miracles than His perform;
They shall remove all sickness from the race,
Cast out all devils from the church and state,
And hurl into oblivion's hollow sea
The mountains of depravity. Then earth,
From the Antarctic to the Arctic Pole,
Shall blush with flowers; the isles and continents
Teem with harmonic forms of bird and beast,
And fruit, and glogious shapes of art more fair
Than man's imagination yet conceived,
Adorn the stately temples of a new
Divine religion. Every human soul
A second Adam, and a second Eve,
Shall dwell with its pure counterpart, conjoined
In sacramental marriage of the heart.
God shall be everywhere, and not, as now,
Guessed at, but apprehended, felt and known."--p. 1.
I will take, says Mr. Howitt, as a fair specimen of the poetry and broad
Christian philosophy of this spiritual epic, the recipe for writing a
poem. In this, we see how far the requirements of Spiritualism are
beyond the standard of the requirements of the world in poetry. They
include the widest gatherings of knowledge, and still wider and loftier
virtues and sympathies.
"To write a poem, man should be as pure
As frost-flowers; every thought should be in tune
To heavenly truth, and Nature's perfect law,
Bathing the soul in beauty, joy, and peace.
His heart should ripen like the purple grape;
His country should be all the universe;
His friends the best and wisest of all time.
He should be universal as the light,
And rich as summer in ripe-fruited love.
He should have power to draw from common things
Essential truth!--and, rising o'er all fear
Of papal devils and of pagan gods,
Of ancient Satans, and of modern ghosts,
Should recognise all spirits as his friends,
And see the worst but harps of golden strings
Discordant now, but destined at the last
To thrill, inspired with God's own harmony,
And make sweet music with the heavenly host.
He should forget his private preference
Of country or religion, and should see
All parties and all creeds with equal eye;
His the religion of true harmony;
Christ the ideal of his lofty aim;
The viewless Friend, the Comforter, and Guide,
The joy in grief, whose every element
Of life received in child-like faith,
Becomes a part of impulse, feeling, thought--
The central fire that lights his being's sun.
He should not limit Nature by the known;
Nor limit God by what is known of him;
Nor limit man by present states and moods;
But see mankind at liberty to draw
Into their lives all Nature's wealth, and all
Harmonious essences of life from God,
And so, becoming god-like in their souls,
And universal in their faculties,
Informing all their age, enriching time,
And blinding up the temple of the world
With massive structures of eternity.
He shall not fail to see how infinite
God is above humanity, nor yet
That God is throned in universal man,
The greater mind of pure intelligence,
Unlimited by states, moods, periods, creeds,
Self-adequate, self-balanced in his love,
And needing nothing and conferring all,
And asking nothing and receiving all,
Akin by love to every loving heart,
By nobleness to every noble mind,
By truth to all who look through natural forms,
And feel the throbbing arteries of law
In every pulse of nature and of man."
The peculiar doctrine of the Spiritualists seems to be the belief in
Spiritual intercourse, and in mediums; as _The Spiritual Magazine_ tells
us "the only media we know accessible to the public are Mrs. Marshal and
her niece, of 22, Red Lion-street, Holborn," we need not give ourselves
much trouble about them. Concerning intercourse with departed spirits,
an American Judge writes, "The first thing demonstrated to us is that we
can commune with the spirits of the departed; that such communion is
through the instrumentality of persons yet living; that the fact of
mediumship is the result of physical organization; that the kind of
communion is affected by moral causes, and that the power, like our other | 2,180.950611 |
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Produced by Al Haines
Heath's Pedagogical Library--4
EMILE:
OR, CONCERNING EDUCATION
BY
JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
EXTRACTS
_CONTAINING THE PRINCIPAL ELEMENTS OF PEDAGOGY FOUND IN THE FIRST THREE
BOOKS; WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY_
JULES STEEG, DEPUTE, PARIS, FRANCE
TRANSLATED BY
ELEANOR WORTHINGTON
FORMERLY OF THE COOK COUNTY (ILL.) NORMAL SCHOOL
D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS
BOSTON -- NEW YORK -- CHICAGO
Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the year 1888, by
GINN, HEATH, & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Printed in U. S. A.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
M. Jules Steeg has rendered a real service to French and American
teachers by his judicious selections from Rousseau's Emile. For the
three-volume novel of a hundred years ago, with its long disquisitions
and digressions, so dear to the heart of our patient ancestors, is now
distasteful to all but lovers of the curious in books | 2,180.950617 |
2023-11-16 18:53:25.1258900 | 374 | 7 |
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
CHAUCER FOR CHILDREN
KEY TO THE COVER.
The 1st Arch contains a glimpse of Palamon and Arcite fighting
desperately, yet wounded oftener and sharplier by Love's arrows than by
each deadly stroke. The ruthless boy aloft showers gaily upon them his
poisoned shafts.
The 2nd contains Aurelius and Dorigen--that loving wife left on Breton
shores, who was so nearly caught in the trap she set for herself. Aurelius
offers her his heart aflame. It is true his attitude is humble, but she is
utterly in his power--she cannot get away whilst he is kneeling on her
dress.
The 3rd represents the Summoner led away, but this time neither to profit
nor to pleasure, by his horned companion. The wicked spirit holds the
reins of both horses in his hand, and the Summoner already quakes in
anticipation of what is in store for him.
The 4th contains the three rioters. The emblem of that Death they sought
so wantonly hangs over their heads; the reward of sin is not far off.
The 5th Arch is too much concealed by the lock to do more than suggest one
of Griselda's babes.
The KEY, from which the book takes its name, we trust may unlock the too
little known treasures of the first of English poets. The _Daisy_, symbol
for all time both of Chaucer and of children, and thus curiously fitted to
be the connecting link between them, may point the way to lessons fairer | 2,181.14593 |
2023-11-16 18:53:25.3265960 | 1,823 | 7 |
E-text prepared by MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
Note: Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/educatingbystory00cath2
Play School Series
Edited by Clark W. Hetherington
EDUCATING BY STORY-TELLING
Showing the
Value of Story-Telling as an Educational
Tool for the Use of All Workers
with Children
by
KATHERINE DUNLAP CATHER
Author of “Boyhood Stories of Famous Men,”
“Pan and His Pipes and Other Stories,”
“The Singing Clock”
[Illustration]
Yonkers-on-Hudson, New York
World Book Company
1918
* * * * * *
WORLD BOOK COMPANY
THE HOUSE OF APPLIED KNOWLEDGE
Established, 1905, by Caspar W. Hodgson
YONKERS-ON-HUDSON, NEW YORK
2126 PRAIRIE AVENUE, CHICAGO
The Play School Series, of which _Educating by Story-Telling_ is a
member, is based on the work of the Demonstration Play School of the
University of California. Breaking away from the traditional idea of
the subjects of study, this school has substituted a curriculum of
activities—the natural activities of child life—out of which subjects
of study naturally evolve. Succeeding volumes now in active preparation
will relate to the other activities which form the educational basis
for the work of the Play School, including Social, Linguistic, Moral,
Big-Muscle, Rhythmic and Musical, Environmental and Nature, and Economic
Activities. Each volume will be written by a recognized authority in the
subject dealt with, as the author of _Educating by Story-Telling_ is in
her special field.
PSS: CES-I
Copyright, 1918, by World Book Company
All rights reserved
* * * * * *
AUTHOR’S PREFACE
This book has grown out of years of experience with children of all ages
and all classes, and with parents, teachers, librarians, and Sunday
School, social center, and settlement workers. The material comprising
it was first used in something like its present form in the University
of California Summer Session, 1914, and since then has been the basis
of courses given in that institution, as well as in private classes and
lecture work. The author does not claim that it is the final word upon
the subject of story-telling, or that it will render obsolete any one of
the several excellent works already upon the market. But the response
of children to the stories given and suggested, and the eagerness with
which the principles herein advocated have been received by parents and
teachers, have convinced her that the book contains certain features that
are unique and valuable to those engaged in directing child thought.
Other works have shown in a general way how vast a field is the realm of
the narrator, but they have not worked out a detailed plan that the busy
mother or teacher can follow in her effort to establish standards, to
lead her small charges to an appreciation of the beautiful in literature
and art, and to endow them with knowledge that shall result in creating a
higher code of thought and action. No claim is made that all the problems
of the school and home are solved in the ensuing pages, and the title,
“Educating by Story-Telling,” makes no assumption that story-telling can
accomplish everything. The author does assume, however, that when used
with wisdom and skill, the story is a powerful tool in the hands of the
educator, and she attempts to indicate how, by this means, some portion
of drudgery may be eliminated from the schoolroom, and a more pleasurable
element be put into it. She undertakes to demonstrate how it is possible
to intensify the child’s interest in most of the subjects composing the
curriculum, not by advancing an untried theory, but by traveling along
a path that has been found to be a certain road to attainment, not only
for the gifted creative teacher, but for the average ordinary one who is
often baffled by the bigness of the problem she has to solve.
Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to use copyrighted
material as follows: to the Whitaker, Ray, Wiggin Company for the story
entitled “The Search for the Seven Cities” (page 149); to Dr. David Starr
Jordan and A. C. McClurg & Co. for “The Story of a Salmon” (page 255) and
“The Story of a Stone” (page 331); to the David C. Cook Company for “The
Pigeons of Venice” (page 263), “The Duty That Wasn’t Paid” (page 278),
“Wilhelmina’s Wooden Shoes” (page 283), “The Luck Boy of Toy Valley”
(page 302), and “The Pet Raven” (page 317); and to Henry Holt & Co. for
“The Emperor’s Vision” (page 306).
KATHERINE DUNLAP CATHER
CONTENTS
PAGE
AUTHOR’S PREFACE iii
EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION ix
PART ONE
STORY-TELLING AND THE ARTS OF EXPRESSION—ESTABLISHING
STANDARDS
CHAPTER
I. THE PURPOSE AND AIM OF STORY-TELLING 1
II. THE STORY INTERESTS OF CHILDHOOD—A. RHYTHMIC PERIOD 12
Sources of Story Material for the Rhythmic Period 19
III. THE STORY INTERESTS OF CHILDHOOD—B. IMAGINATIVE PERIOD 20
Bibliography of Fairy Tales 31
IV. THE STORY INTERESTS OF CHILDHOOD—C. HEROIC PERIOD 32
Sources of Story Material for the Heroic Period 41
V. THE STORY INTERESTS OF CHILDHOOD—D. ROMANTIC PERIOD 42
Sources of Story Material for the Romantic Period 51
VI. BUILDING THE STORY 52
VII. TELLING THE STORY 58
Books on Story-Telling 68
VIII. STORY-TELLING TO LEAD TO AN APPRECIATION OF LITERATURE 69
Some Authors and Selections That Can Be Presented through
the Story-Telling Method 81
Sources of Material to Lead to an Appreciation of
Literature 82
IX. STORY-TELLING TO AWAKEN AN APPRECIATION OF MUSIC 83
Illustrative Story, “A Boy of Old Vienna” 89
Sources of Material to Awaken an Appreciation of Music 94
Pictures to Use in Telling Musical Stories 94
X. STORY-TELLING TO AWAKEN AN APPRECIATION OF ART 95
Artists and Paintings That Can Be Presented to Young
Children through the Story-Telling Method 102
Artists and Paintings for Children of the Intermediate
Period 103
Artists and Paintings That Lead to Appreciation of the
Beautiful and to Respect for Labor 104
Artists and Paintings for the Heroic and Epic Periods 105
Bibliography of Art Story Material 105
Sources for Moderate-Priced Reproductions of Masterpieces 106
XI. DRAMATIZATION 107
Pictures Containing Subjects for Dramatization 116
Books and Stories for Use in Dramatic Work with Little
Children 116
Bibliography of Material for Dramatization 117
XII. BIBLE STORIES 118
Sources of Material for Bible Stories 131
XIII. STORY-TELLING AND THE TEACHING OF ETHICS 132
Stories to Develop or Stamp out Certain Traits and
Instincts 137
Sources of Material to Use in the Teaching of Ethics 140
PART TWO
THE USE OF STORY-TELLING TO ILLUMINATE SOME SCHOOLROOM
SUBJECTS—STORIES FOR TELLING
XIV. STORY-TELLING TO INTENSIFY INTER | 2,181.346636 |
2023-11-16 18:53:25.3267970 | 7,119 | 10 |
Produced by Sue Asscher
A NATURALIST'S VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD
By Charles Darwin
FIRST EDITION...MAY 1860.
SECOND EDITION...MAY 1870.
THIRD EDITION...FEBRUARY 1872.
FOURTH EDITION...JULY 1874.
FIFTH EDITION...MARCH 1876.
SIXTH EDITION...JANUARY 1879.
SEVENTH EDITION...MAY 1882.
EIGHTH EDITION...FEBRUARY 1884.
NINTH EDITION...AUGUST 1886.
TENTH EDITION...JANUARY 1888.
ELEVENTH EDITION...JANUARY 1890.
REPRINTED...JUNE 1913.
(FRONTISPIECE. H.M.S. BEAGLE IN STRAITS OF MAGELLAN. MT.
SARMIENTO IN THE DISTANCE.)
JOURNAL OF RESEARCHES
INTO THE
NATURAL HISTORY AND GEOLOGY
OF THE
COUNTRIES VISITED DURING THE VOYAGE
ROUND THE WORLD OF H.M.S. 'BEAGLE'
UNDER THE COMMAND OF CAPTAIN FITZ ROY, R.N.
BY CHARLES DARWIN, M.A., F.R.S.
AUTHOR OF 'ORIGIN OF SPECIES,' ETC.
(PLATE 1. H.M.S. BEAGLE UNDER FULL SAIL, VIEW FROM ASTERN.)
A NEW EDITION
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY R.T. PRITCHETT OF PLACES VISITED AND
OBJECTS DESCRIBED.
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1913.
TO
CHARLES LYELL, ESQ., F.R.S.,
This second edition is dedicated with grateful pleasure, as an
acknowledgment that the chief part of whatever scientific merit
this journal and the other works of the author may possess, has
been derived from studying the well-known and admirable
PRINCIPLES OF GEOLOGY.
PREFATORY NOTICE TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION.
This work was described, on its first appearance, by a writer in
the "Quarterly Review" as "One of the most interesting narratives
of voyaging that it has fallen to our lot to take up, and one which
must always occupy a distinguished place in the history of
scientific navigation."
This prophecy has been amply verified by experience; the
extraordinary minuteness and accuracy of Mr. Darwin's observations,
combined with the charm and simplicity of his descriptions, have
ensured the popularity of this book with all classes of
readers--and that popularity has even increased in recent years. No
attempt, however, has hitherto been made to produce an illustrated
edition of this valuable work: numberless places and objects are
mentioned and described, but the difficulty of obtaining authentic
and original representations of them drawn for the purpose has
never been overcome until now.
Most of the views given in this work are from sketches made on the
spot by Mr. Pritchett, with Mr. Darwin's book by his side. Some
few of the others are taken from engravings which Mr. Darwin had
himself selected for their interest as illustrating his voyage, and
which have been kindly lent by his son.
Mr. Pritchett's name is well known in connection with the voyages
of the "Sunbeam" and "Wanderer," and it is believed that the
illustrations, which have been chosen and verified with the utmost
care and pains, will greatly add to the value and interest of the
"VOYAGE OF A NATURALIST."
JOHN MURRAY.
December 1889.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
I have stated in the preface to the first Edition of this work, and
in the "Zoology of the Voyage of the Beagle," that it was in
consequence of a wish expressed by Captain Fitz Roy, of having some
scientific person on board, accompanied by an offer from him of
giving up part of his own accommodations, that I volunteered my
services, which received, through the kindness of the hydrographer,
Captain Beaufort, the sanction of the Lords of the Admiralty. As I
feel that the opportunities which I enjoyed of studying the Natural
History of the different countries we visited have been wholly due
to Captain Fitz Roy, I hope I may here be permitted to repeat my
expression of gratitude to him; and to add that, during the five
years we were together, I received from him the most cordial
friendship and steady assistance. Both to Captain Fitz Roy and to
all the Officers of the "Beagle" I shall ever feel most thankful
for the undeviating kindness with which I was treated during our
long voyage. (Preface/1. I must take this opportunity of returning
my sincere thanks to Mr. Bynoe, the surgeon of the "Beagle," for
his very kind attention to me when I was ill at Valparaiso.)
This volume contains, in the form of a Journal, a history of our
voyage, and a sketch of those observations in Natural History and
Geology, which I think will possess some interest for the general
reader. I have in this edition largely condensed and corrected some
parts, and have added a little to others, in order to render the
volume more fitted for popular reading; but I trust that
naturalists will remember that they must refer for details to the
larger publications which comprise the scientific results of the
Expedition. The "Zoology of the Voyage of the 'Beagle'" includes an
account of the Fossil Mammalia, by Professor Owen; of the Living
Mammalia, by Mr. Waterhouse; of the Birds, by Mr. Gould; of the
Fish, by the Reverend L. Jenyns; and of the Reptiles, by Mr. Bell.
I have appended to the descriptions of each species an account of
its habits and range. These works, which I owe to the high talents
and disinterested zeal of the above distinguished authors, could
not have been undertaken had it not been for the liberality of the
Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty's Treasury, who, through the
representation of the Right Honourable the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, have been pleased to grant a sum of one thousand pounds
towards defraying part of the expenses of publication.
I have myself published separate volumes on the "Structure and
Distribution of Coral Reefs"; on the "Volcanic Islands visited
during the Voyage of the 'Beagle'"; and on the "Geology of South
America." The sixth volume of the "Geological Transactions"
contains two papers of mine on the Erratic Boulders and Volcanic
Phenomena of South America. Messrs. Waterhouse, Walker, Newman, and
White, have published several able papers on the Insects which were
collected, and I trust that many others will hereafter follow. The
plants from the southern parts of America will be given by Dr. J.
Hooker, in his great work on the Botany of the Southern Hemisphere.
The Flora of the Galapagos Archipelago is the subject of a separate
memoir by him, in the "Linnean Transactions." The Reverend
Professor Henslow has published a list of the plants collected by
me at the Keeling Islands; and the Reverend J.M. Berkeley has
described my cryptogamic plants.
I shall have the pleasure of acknowledging the great assistance
which I have received from several other naturalists in the course
of this and my other works; but I must be here allowed to return my
most sincere thanks to the Reverend Professor Henslow, who, when I
was an undergraduate at Cambridge, was one chief means of giving me
a taste for Natural History,--who, during my absence, took charge
of the collections I sent home, and by his correspondence directed
my endeavours,--and who, since my return, has constantly rendered
me every assistance which the kindest friend could offer.
DOWN, BROMLEY, KENT,
June 1845.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Porto Praya--Ribeira Grande--Atmospheric Dust with Infusoria
--Habits of a Sea-slug and Cuttle-fish--St. Paul's Rocks,
non-volcanic--Singular Incrustations--Insects the first
Colonists of Islands--Fernando Noronha--Bahia--Burnished
Rocks--Habits of a Diodon--Pelagic Confervae and Infusoria--
Causes of discoloured Sea.
CHAPTER II.
Rio de Janeiro--Excursion north of Cape Frio--Great
Evaporation--Slavery--Botofogo Bay--Terrestrial Planariae
--Clouds on the Corcovado--Heavy Rain--Musical Frogs--
Phosphorescent insects--Elater, springing powers of--Blue
Haze--Noise made by a Butterfly--Entomology--Ants--Wasp
killing a Spider--Parasitical Spider--Artifices of an Epeira
--Gregarious Spider--Spider with an unsymmetrical web.
CHAPTER III.
Monte Video--Maldonado--Excursion to R. Polanco--Lazo and
Bolas--Partridges--Absence of trees--Deer--Capybara, or
River Hog--Tucutuco--Molothrus, cuckoo-like habits--
Tyrant-flycatcher--Mocking-bird--Carrion Hawks--Tubes
formed by lightning--House struck.
CHAPTER IV.
Rio <DW64>--Estancias attacked by the Indians--Salt-Lakes--
Flamingoes--R. <DW64> to R. Colorado--Sacred Tree--
Patagonian Hare--Indian Families--General Rosas--Proceed to
Bahia Blanca--Sand Dunes--<DW64> Lieutenant--Bahia Blanca--
Saline incrustations--Punta Alta--Zorillo.
CHAPTER V.
Bahia Blanca--Geology--Numerous gigantic extinct Quadrupeds
--Recent Extinction--Longevity of Species--Large Animals do
not require a luxuriant vegetation--Southern Africa--Siberian
Fossils--Two Species of Ostrich--Habits of Oven-bird--
Armadilloes--Venomous Snake, Toad, Lizard--Hybernation of
Animals--Habits of Sea-Pen--Indian Wars and Massacres--
Arrowhead--Antiquarian Relic.
CHAPTER VI.
Set out for Buenos Ayres--Rio Sauce--Sierra Ventana--Third
Posta--Driving Horses--Bolas--Partridges and Foxes--
Features of the country--Long-legged Plover--Teru-tero--
Hail-storm--Natural enclosures in the Sierra Tapalguen--Flesh
of Puma--Meat Diet--Guardia del Monte--Effects of cattle on
the Vegetation--Cardoon--Buenos Ayres--Corral where cattle
are slaughtered.
CHAPTER VII.
Excursion to St. Fe--Thistle Beds--Habits of the Bizcacha--
Little Owl--Saline streams--Level plains--Mastodon--St.
Fe--Change in landscape--Geology--Tooth of extinct Horse--
Relation of the Fossil and recent Quadrupeds of North and South
America--Effects of a great drought--Parana--Habits of the
Jaguar--Scissor-beak--Kingfisher, Parrot, and Scissor-tail--
Revolution--Buenos Ayres--State of Government.
CHAPTER VIII.
Excursion to Colonia del Sacramiento--Value of an Estancia--
Cattle, how counted--Singular breed of Oxen--Perforated
pebbles--Shepherd-dogs--Horses broken-in, Gauchos riding--
Character of Inhabitants--Rio Plata--Flocks of Butterflies--
Aeronaut Spiders--Phosphorescence of the Sea--Port Desire--
Guanaco--Port St. Julian--Geology of Patagonia--Fossil
gigantic Animal--Types of Organisation constant--Change in
the Zoology of America--Causes of Extinction.
CHAPTER IX.
Santa Cruz--Expedition up the River--Indians--Immense
streams of basaltic lava--Fragments not transported by the
river--Excavation of the valley--Condor, habits of--
Cordillera--Erratic boulders of great size--Indian relics--
Return to the ship--Falkland Islands--Wild horses, cattle,
rabbits--Wolf-like fox--Fire made of bones--Manner of
hunting wild cattle--Geology--Streams of stones--Scenes of
violence--Penguin--Geese--Eggs of Doris--Compound
animals.
CHAPTER X.
Tierra del Fuego, first arrival--Good Success Bay--An account
of the Fuegians on board--Interview with the savages--Scenery
of the forests--Cape Horn--Wigwam Cove--Miserable condition
of the savages--Famines--Cannibals--Matricide--Religious
feelings--Great Gale--Beagle Channel--Ponsonby Sound--
Build wigwams and settle the Fuegians--Bifurcation of the
Beagle Channel--Glaciers--Return to the Ship--Second visit
in the Ship to the Settlement--Equality of condition amongst
the natives.
CHAPTER XI.
Strait of Magellan--Port Famine--Ascent of Mount Tarn--
Forests--Edible fungus--Zoology--Great Seaweed--Leave
Tierra del Fuego--Climate--Fruit-trees and productions of the
southern coasts--Height of snow-line on the Cordillera--
Descent of glaciers to the sea--Icebergs formed--Transportal
of boulders--Climate and productions of the Antarctic Islands
--Preservation of frozen carcasses--Recapitulation.
CHAPTER XII.
Valparaiso--Excursion to the foot of the Andes--Structure of
the land--Ascend the Bell of Quillota--Shattered masses of
greenstone--Immense valleys--Mines--State of miners--
Santiago--Hot-baths of Cauquenes--Gold-mines--
Grinding-mills--Perforated stones--Habits of the Puma--El
Turco and Tapacolo--Humming-birds.
CHAPTER XIII.
Chiloe--General aspect--Boat excursion--Native Indians--
Castro--Tame fox--Ascend San Pedro--Chonos Archipelago--
Peninsula of Tres Montes--Granitic range--Boat-wrecked
sailors--Low's Harbour--Wild potato--Formation of peat--
Myopotamus, otter and mice--Cheucau and Barking-bird--
Opetiorhynchus--Singular character of ornithology--Petrels.
CHAPTER XIV.
San Carlos, Chiloe--Osorno in eruption, contemporaneously with
Aconcagua and Coseguina--Ride to Cucao--Impenetrable forests
--Valdivia--Indians--Earthquake--Concepcion--Great
earthquake--Rocks fissured--Appearance of the former towns--
The sea black and boiling--Direction of the vibrations--
Stones twisted round--Great Wave--Permanent Elevation of the
land--Area of volcanic phenomena--The connection between the
elevatory and eruptive forces--Cause of earthquakes--Slow
elevation of mountain-chains.
CHAPTER XV.
Valparaiso--Portillo Pass--Sagacity of mules--
Mountain-torrents--Mines, how discovered--Proofs of the
gradual elevation of the Cordillera--Effect of snow on rocks--
Geological structure of the two main ranges, their distinct
origin and upheaval--Great subsidence--Red snow--Winds--
Pinnacles of snow--Dry and clear atmosphere--Electricity--
Pampas--Zoology of the opposite sides of the Andes--Locusts
--Great Bugs--Mendoza--Uspallata Pass--Silicified trees
buried as they grew--Incas Bridge--Badness of the passes
exaggerated--Cumbre--Casuchas--Valparaiso.
CHAPTER XVI.
Coast-road to Coquimbo--Great loads carried by the miners--
Coquimbo--Earthquake--Step-formed terraces--Absence of
recent deposits--Contemporaneousness of the Tertiary formations
--Excursion up the valley--Road to Guasco--Deserts--Valley
of Copiapo--Rain and Earthquakes--Hydrophobia--The
Despoblado--Indian ruins--Probable change of climate--
River-bed arched by an earthquake--Cold gales of wind--Noises
from a hill--Iquique--Salt alluvium--Nitrate of soda--
Lima--Unhealthy country--Ruins of Callao, overthrown by an
earthquake--Recent subsidence--Elevated shells on San
Lorenzo, their decomposition--Plain with embedded shells and
fragments of pottery--Antiquity of the Indian Race.
CHAPTER XVII.
Galapagos Archipelago--The whole group volcanic--Number of
craters--Leafless bushes--Colony at Charles Island--James
Island--Salt-lake in crater--Natural history of the group--
Ornithology, curious finches--Reptiles--Great tortoises,
habits of--Marine lizard, feeds on seaweed--Terrestrial
lizard, burrowing habits, herbivorous--Importance of reptiles
in the Archipelago--Fish, shells, insects--Botany--American
type of organisation--Differences in the species or races on
different islands--Tameness of the birds--Fear of man an
acquired instinct.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Pass through the Low Archipelago--Tahiti--Aspect--
Vegetation on the mountains--View of Eimeo--Excursion into
the interior--Profound ravines--Succession of waterfalls--
Number of wild useful plants--Temperance of the inhabitants--
Their moral state--Parliament convened--New Zealand--Bay of
Islands--Hippahs--Excursion to Waimate--Missionary
establishment--English weeds now run wild--Waiomio--Funeral
of a New Zealand woman--Sail for Australia.
CHAPTER XIX.
Sydney--Excursion to Bathurst--Aspect of the woods--Party
of natives--Gradual extinction of the aborigines--Infection
generated by associated men in health--Blue Mountains--View
of the grand gulf-like valleys--Their origin and formation--
Bathurst, general civility of the lower orders--State of
Society--Van Diemen's Land--Hobart Town--Aborigines all
banished--Mount Wellington--King George's Sound--Cheerless
aspect of the country--Bald Head, calcareous casts of branches
of trees--Party of natives--Leave Australia.
CHAPTER XX.
Keeling Island--Singular appearance--Scanty Flora--
Transport of seeds--Birds and insects--Ebbing and flowing
springs--Fields of dead coral--Stones transported in the
roots of trees--Great crab--Stinging corals--Coral-eating
fish--Coral formations--Lagoon islands or atolls--Depth at
which reef-building corals can live--Vast areas interspersed
with low coral islands--Subsidence of their foundations--
Barrier-reefs--Fringing-reefs--Conversion of fringing-reefs
into barrier-reefs, and into atolls--Evidence of changes in
level--Breaches in barrier-reefs--Maldiva atolls, their
peculiar structure--Dead and submerged reefs--Areas of
subsidence and elevation--Distribution of volcanoes--
Subsidence slow and vast in amount.
CHAPTER XXI.
Mauritius, beautiful appearance of--Great crateriform ring of
mountains--Hindoos--St. Helena--History of the changes in
the vegetation--Cause of the extinction of land-shells--
Ascension--Variation in the imported rats--Volcanic bombs--
Beds of infusoria--Bahia, Brazil--Splendour of tropical
scenery--Pernambuco--Singular reefs--Slavery--Return to
England--Retrospect on our voyage.
INDEX.
.....
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
FRONTISPIECE. H.M.S. "BEAGLE" IN STRAITS OF MAGELLAN. MT.
SARMIENTO IN THE DISTANCE.
PLATE 1. H.M.S. "BEAGLE" UNDER FULL SAIL, VIEW FROM ASTERN.
PLATE 2. H.M.S. "BEAGLE": MIDDLE SECTION FORE AND AFT, UPPER
DECK, 1832.
PLATE 3. FERNANDO NORONHA.
PLATE 4. INCRUSTATION OF SHELLY SAND.
PLATE 5. DIODON MACULATUS (Distended and Contracted).
PLATE 6. PELAGIC CONFERVAE.
PLATE 7. CATAMARAN (BAHIA).
PLATE 8. BOTOFOGO BAY, RIO DE JANEIRO.
PLATE 9. VAMPIRE BAT (Desmodus D'Orbigny).
PLATE 10. VIRGIN FOREST.
PLATE 11. CABBAGE PALM.
PLATE 12. MANDIOCA OR CASSAVA.
PLATE 13. RIO DE JANEIRO.
PLATE 14. DARWIN'S PAPILIO FERONIA, 1833, NOW CALLED AGERONIA
FERONIA, 1889.
PLATE 15. HYDROCHAERUS CAPYBARA OR WATER-HOG.
PLATE 16. RECADO OR SURCINGLE OF GAUCHO.
PLATE 17. HALT AT A PULPERIA ON THE PAMPAS.
PLATE 18. EL CARMEN, OR PATAGONES, RIO <DW64>.
PLATE 19. BRAZILIAN WHIPS, HOBBLES, AND SPURS.
PLATE 20. BRINGING IN A PRISONER.
PLATE 21. IRREGULAR TROOPS.
PLATE 22. SKINNING UJI OR WATER SERPENTS.
PLATE 23. RHEA DARWINII (Avestruz Petise).
PLATE 24. LANDING AT BUENOS AYRES.
PLATE 25. MATE POTS AND BAMBILLIO.
PLATE 26. GIANT THISTLE OF PAMPAS.
PLATE 27. CYNARA CARDUNCULUS OR CARDOON.
PLATE 28. EVENING CAMP, BUENOS AYRES.
PLATE 29. ROZARIO.
PLATE 30. PARANA RIVER.
PLATE 31. TOXODON PLATENSIS. (Found at Saladillo.)
PLATE 32. FOSSIL TOOTH OF HORSE. (From Bahia Blanca.)
PLATE 33. MYLODON.
PLATE 34. HEAD OF SCISSOR-BEAK.
PLATE 35. RHYNCHOPS NIGRA, OR SCISSOR-BEAK.
PLATE 36. BUENOS AYRES BULLOCK-WAGGONS.
PLATE 37. FUEGIANS AND WIGWAMS.
PLATE 38. OPUNTIA DARWINII.
PLATE 39. RAISED BEACHES, PATAGONIA.
PLATE 40. LADIES' COMBS, BANDA ORIENTAL.
PLATE 41. CONDOR (Sarcorhamphus gryphus).
PLATE 42. BASALTIC GLEN, SANTA CRUZ.
PLATE 43. BERKELEY SOUND, FALKLAND ISLANDS.
PLATE 44. YORK MINSTER (Bearing south 66 degrees east.)
PLATE 45. CAPE HORN.
PLATE 46. CAPE HORN (Another view).
PLATE 47. BAD WEATHER, MAGELLAN STRAITS.
PLATE 48. FUEGIAN BASKET AND BONE WEAPONS.
PLATE 49. FALSE HORN, CAPE HORN.
PLATE 50. WOLLASTON ISLAND, TIERRA DEL FUEGO.
PLATE 51. PATAGONIANS FROM CAPE GREGORY.
PLATE 52. PORT FAMINE, MAGELLAN.
PLATE 53. PATAGONIAN BOLAS.
PLATE 54. PATAGONIAN SPURS AND PIPE.
PLATE 55. CYTTARIA DARWINII.
PLATE 56. EYRE SOUND.
PLATE 57. GLACIER IN GULF OF PENAS.
PLATE 58. FLORA OF MAGELLAN.
PLATE 59. MACROCYSTIS PYRIFERA, OR MAGELLAN KELP.
PLATE 60. TROCHILUS FORFICATUS.
PLATE 61. HACIENDA, CONDOR, CACTUS, ETC.
PLATE 62. CHILIAN MINER.
PLATE 63. CACTUS (Cereus Peruviana).
PLATE 64. CORDILLERAS FROM SANTIAGO DE CHILE.
PLATE 65. CHILIAN SPURS, STIRRUP, ETC.
PLATE 66. OLD CHURCH, CASTRO, CHILOE.
PLATE 67. INSIDE CHONOS ARCHIPELAGO.
PLATE 68. GUNNERA SCABRA, CHILOE.
PLATE 69. ANTUCO VOLCANO, NEAR TALCAHUANO.
PLATE 70. PANORAMIC VIEW OF COAST, CHILOE.
PLATE 71. INSIDE ISLAND OF CHILOE. SAN CARLOS.
PLATE 72. HIDE BRIDGE, SANTIAGO DE CHILE.
PLATE 73. CHILENOS.
PLATE 74. SOUTH AMERICAN BIT.
PLATE 75. BRIDGE OF THE INCAS, USPALLATA PASS.
PLATE 76. LIMA AND SAN LORENZO.
PLATE 77. COQUIMBO, CHILE.
PLATE 78. HUACAS, PERUVIAN POTTERY.
PLATE 79. TESTUDO ABINGDONII, GALAPAGOS ISLANDS.
PLATE 80. GALAPAGOS ARCHIPELAGO.
PLATE 81. FINCHES FROM GALAPAGOS ARCHIPELAGO.
PLATE 82. AMBLYRHYNCHUS CRISTATUS.
PLATE 83. OPUNTIA GALAPAGEIA.
PLATE 84. AVA OR KAVA (Macropiper methysticum), TAHITI.
PLATE 85. EIMEO AND BARRIER-REEF.
PLATE 86. FATAHUA FALL, TAHITI.
PLATE 87. TAHITIAN.
PLATE 88. HIPPAH, NEW ZEALAND.
PLATE 89. SYDNEY, 1835.
PLATE 90. HOBART TOWN AND MOUNT WELLINGTON.
PLATE 91. AUSTRALIAN GROUP OF WEAPONS AND THROWING STICKS.
PLATE 92. INSIDE AN ATOLL, KEELING ISLAND.
PLATE 93. WHITSUNDAY ISLAND.
PLATE 94. BARRIER-REEF, BOLABOLA.
PLATE 95. SECTIONS OF BARRIER-REEFS.
PLATE 96. SECTION OF CORAL-REEF.
PLATE 97. SECTION OF CORAL-REEF.
PLATE 98. BOLABOLA ISLAND.
PLATE 99. CORALS.
PLATE 100. BIRGOS LATRO, KEELING ISLAND.
PLATE 101. ST. LOUIS, MAURITIUS.
PLATE 102. ST. HELENA.
PLATE 103. CELLULAR FORMATION OF VOLCANIC BOMB.
PLATE 104. CICADA HOMOPTERA.
PLATE 105. HOMEWARD BOUND.
PLATE 106. ASCENSION. TERNS AND NODDIES.
PLATE 107. MAP OF SOUTH AMERICA.
PLATE 108. MAP OF THE WORLD, SHOWING THE TRACK OF H.M.S.
"BEAGLE."
...
(PLATE 2. H.M.S. "BEAGLE": MIDDLE SECTION FORE AND AFT, UPPER
DECK, 1832.)
(PLATE 3. FERNANDO NORONHA.)
JOURNAL.
CHAPTER I.
Porto Praya.
Ribeira Grande.
Atmospheric Dust with Infusoria.
Habits of a Sea-slug and Cuttle-fish.
St. Paul's Rocks, non-volcanic.
Singular Incrustations.
Insects the first Colonists of Islands.
Fernando Noronha.
Bahia.
Burnished Rocks.
Habits of a Diodon.
Pelagic Confervae and Infusoria.
Causes of discoloured Sea.
ST. JAGO--CAPE DE VERD ISLANDS.
After having been twice driven back by heavy south-western gales,
Her Majesty's ship "Beagle," a ten-gun brig, under the command of
Captain Fitz Roy, R.N., sailed from Devonport on the 27th of
December, 1831. The object of the expedition was to complete the
survey of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, commenced under Captain
King in 1826 to 1830--to survey the shores of Chile, Peru, and of
some islands in the Pacific--and to carry a chain of chronometrical
measurements round the World. On the 6th of January we reached
Teneriffe, but were prevented landing, by fears of our bringing the
cholera: the next morning we saw the sun rise behind the rugged
outline of the Grand Canary Island, and suddenly illumine the Peak
of Teneriffe, whilst the lower parts were veiled in fleecy clouds.
This was the first of many delightful days never to be forgotten.
On the 16th of January 1832 we anchored at Porto Praya, in St.
Jago, the chief island of the Cape de Verd archipelago.
The neighbourhood of Porto Praya, viewed from the sea, wears a
desolate aspect. The volcanic fires of a past age, and the
scorching heat of a tropical sun, have in most places rendered the
soil unfit for vegetation. The country rises in successive steps of
table-land, interspersed with some truncate conical hills, and the
horizon is bounded by an irregular chain of more lofty mountains.
The scene, as beheld through the hazy atmosphere of this climate,
is one of great interest; if, indeed, a person, fresh from sea, and
who has just walked, for the first time, in a grove of cocoa-nut
trees, can be a judge of anything but his own happiness. The island
would generally be considered as very uninteresting, but to any one
accustomed only to an English landscape, the novel aspect of an
utterly sterile land possesses a grandeur which more vegetation
might spoil. A single green leaf can scarcely be discovered over
wide tracts of the lava plains; yet flocks of goats, together with
a few cows, contrive to exist. It rains very seldom, but during a
short portion of the year heavy torrents fall, and immediately
afterwards a light vegetation springs out of every crevice. | 2,181.346837 |
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HARPER'S
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE
VOLUME III.
JUNE TO NOVEMBER, 1851.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
NOS. 329 AND 331 PEARL STREET,
(FRANKLIN SQUARE.)
1852.
ADVERTISEMENT.
This Number closes the Third Volume of HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. In
closing the Second Volume the Publishers referred to the distinguished
success which had attended its establishment, as an incentive to further
efforts to make it worthy the immense patronage it had received:--they
refer with confidence to the Contents of the present Volume, for proof
that their promise has been abundantly fulfilled.
The Magazine has reached its present enormous circulation, simply
because it gives _a greater amount of reading matter, of a higher
quality, in better style, and at a cheaper price_ than any other
periodical ever published. Knowing this to be the fact, the Publishers
have spared, and will hereafter spare, no labor or expense which will
increase the value and interest of the Magazine in all these respects.
The outlay upon the present volume has been from five to ten thousand
dollars more than that upon either of its predecessors. The best talent
of the country has been engaged in writing and illustrating original
articles for its pages:--its selections have been made from a wider
field and with increased care; its typographical appearance has been
rendered still more elegant; and several new departments have been added
to its original plan.
The Magazine now contains, regularly:
_First._ One or more original articles upon some topic of historical or
national interest, written by some able and popular writer, and
illustrated by from fifteen to thirty wood engravings, executed in the
highest style of art.
_Second._ Copious selections from the current periodical literature of
the day, with tales of the most distinguished authors, such as DICKENS,
BULWER, LEVER, and others--chosen always for their literary merit,
popular interest, and general utility.
_Third._ A Monthly Record of the events of the day, foreign and
domestic, prepared with care and with the most perfect freedom from
prejudice and partiality of every kind.
_Fourth._ Critical Notices of the Books of the Day, written with
ability, candor, and spirit, and designed to give the public a clear and
reliable estimate of the important works constantly issuing from the
press.
_Fifth._ A Monthly Summary of European Intelligence, concerning books,
authors, and whatever else has interest and importance for the
cultivated reader.
_Sixth._ An Editor's Table, in which some of the leading topics of the
day will be discussed with ability and independence.
_Seventh._ An Editor's Easy Chair or Drawer, which will be devoted to
literary and general gossip, memoranda of the topics talked about in
social circles, graphic sketches of the most interesting minor matters
of the day, anecdotes of literary men, sentences of interest from papers
not worth reprinting at length, and generally an agreeable and
entertaining collection of literary miscellany.
The object of the Publishers is to combine the greatest possible VARIETY
and INTEREST, with the greatest possible UTILITY. Special care will
always be exercised in admitting nothing into the Magazine in the
slightest degree offensive to the most sensitive delicacy; and there
will be a steady aim to exert a healthy moral and intellectual
influence, by the most attractive means.
For the very liberal patronage the Magazine has already received, and
especially for the universally flattering commendations of the Press,
the Publishers desire to express their cordial thanks, and to renew
their assurances, that no effort shall be spared to render the work
still more acceptable and useful, and still more worthy of the
encouragement it has received.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME III.
Adventure with a Grizzly Bear 101
Ally Somers 610
American Notabilities 834
Anecdotes of Curran 108
Anecdotes of Paganini 39
Application of Electro-Magnetism to Railway Transit 786
Autobiography of a Sensitive Spirit 479
Bear-Steak 484
Blind Lovers of Chamouny 68
Bookworms 628
Bored Wells in Mississippi 539
Breton Wedding 87
Brush with a Bison 218
Captain's Self-Devotion 689
Chapter on Giraffes 202
Coffee-Planting in Ceylon 82
Conversation in a Stage Coach 105
Cricket 718
Convict's Tale 209
Daughter of Blood 74
Deserted House 241
Eagle and Swan 691
Eclipse in July, 1851 239
EDITOR'S DRAWER.
Preliminary; Word-painting; Grandiloquence; Memories of
Childhood; Good-nature, 282. Englishman's independence; Parodies;
Done twice; Punctuation; Epitaph; Personification, 284. Small
courtesies; Home | 2,181.447552 |
2023-11-16 18:53:25.4311390 | 7,423 | 310 |
Produced by Jeannie Howse and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
* * * * *
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For |
| a complete list, please see the end of this document. |
| |
+-----------------------------------------------------------+
* * * * *
HISTORICAL SKETCH
OF THE
FIFTEENTH REGIMENT
NEW JERSEY VOLUNTEERS.
FIRST BRIGADE, FIRST DIVISION, SIXTH CORPS.
TRENTON, N.J.:
WM. S. SHARP, PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER.
1880.
SKETCH.
Every regiment of soldiers has a character of its own. This
"character" is the sum of the elements of individual character, and
the circumstances affecting its organization and management.
The Fifteenth Regiment New Jersey Volunteers was organized at
Flemington. It was recruited in the "hill country" of the State--three
companies from Sussex, two each from Warren, Hunterdon and Morris, and
one from Somerset. There being no large cities in this district, it
was composed almost wholly of "freeholders" or the sons of
freeholders--young men who were well known in the communities from
which they came, who had a good name at home to adorn or lose, and
friends at home to feel a pride in their good behavior or suffer shame
at the reverse. They were an educated and intelligent class of men,
many of them of liberal education and in course of training for the
higher walks of business or professional life. They were men of a high
tone of moral character and of that sturdy and tenacious patriotism
which the history of every country, and especially of our own, shows
to reside more especially in the fixed population connected with the
soil as its owners or tillers. Reared in the mountain air they were
generally of vigorous and healthy physique. The writer saw much of
Union soldiers during four years of service--regulars, volunteers and
militia--and hopes he may be permitted to say, without invidious
comparison, that this regiment was marked for the high intellectual
and moral character of its enlisted men. Those accustomed to the
management and handling of troops know what this means on the battle
field and in active campaign. It was largely officered with men who
had already seen a year of active service, and who subjected it at
once to a rigid discipline.
It was mustered into service on the 25th of August, 1862. Two days
later it moved to "the front," at the perilous moment when Pope and
Lee were in their death-grapple about Bull Run. Pope being defeated,
and the rebels marching for Pennsylvania, the capital was to be more
completely fortified on the west and north, and prepared for possible
attack. The first duty assigned the regiment was to erect
fortifications at Tenallytown, Md., at which they toiled day and
night for about one month. On the 30th of September it proceeded to
join the victorious Army of the Potomac on the battle-field of
Antietam, and, by special request of the corps, division and brigade
commanders, was assigned to the First Brigade, First Division, Sixth
Corps--the already-veteran "First Jersey Brigade." It afforded much
gratification and a home-like feeling, to be brigaded with five other
regiments of the same State.
Whilst the Army of the Potomac was being re-fitted and supplied for
the fall campaign, the regiment enjoyed, in the midst of picket and
other duties, a much-needed month of opportunity for drill and
discipline at Bakersville, Maryland--a short time, as all experience
will attest, to convert into "soldiers" a thousand men fresh from the
untrammeled freedom of civil life, strangers to the rigor of military
discipline, the profession of arms, and the art of war. How
industriously, willingly, and effectively that month was employed, the
subsequent history of the regiment fully attests.
From this time forward, to the close of the war, its history is that
of the famous "Sixth Corps"--than which, probably, no corps ever did
more hard fighting and effective service, or achieved a more enviable
fame.
Its official fighting record, as made up by the Adjutant-General of
the State, is as follows:
Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13 and 14, 1862; Fredericksburg, Va., May 3,
1863; Salem Heights, Va., May 3 and 4, 1863; Franklin's Crossing, Va.,
June 6 to 14, 1863; Gettysburg, Pa., July 2 and 3, 1863; Fairfield,
Pa., July 5, 1863; Funktown, Md., July 10, 1863; Rappahannock Station,
Va., Oct. 12, 1863; Rappahannock Station, Va., Nov. 7, 1863; Mine Run,
Va., Nov. 30, 1863; Wilderness, Va., May 5 to 7, 1864; Spottsylvania,
Va., May 8 to 11, 1864; Spottsylvania C.H., Va., May 12 to 16, 1864;
North and South Anna River, May 24, 1864; Hanover C.H., Va., May 29,
1864; Tolopotomy Creek, Va., May 30 and 31, 1864; Cold Harbor, Va.,
June 1 to 11, 1864; Before Petersburg, Va., June 16 to 22, 1864;
Weldon Railroad, Va., June 23, 1864; Snicker's Gap, Va., July 18,
1864; Strasburg, Va., Aug. 15, 1864; Winchester, Va., Aug. 17, 1864;
Charlestown, Va., Aug. 21, 1864; Opequan, Va., Sept. 19, 1864;
Fisher's Hill, Va., Sept. 21 and 22, 1864; New Market, Va., Sept. 24,
1864; Mount Jackson, Va., Sept. 25, 1864; Cedar Creek and Middletown,
Va., Oct. 19, 1864; Hatcher's Run, Va., Feb. 5, 1865; Fort Steedman,
Va., March 25, 1865; Capture of Petersburg, Va., April 2, 1865;
Sailors' Creek, Va., April 6, 1865; Farmville, Va., April 7, 1865;
Lee's Surrender, (Appomattox, Va.,) April 9, 1865.
In the operations and battles of a large army or corps, a single
regiment is so swallowed up in the general mass; its movements and
conduct, under fire and out of range, are so intermingled with those
of many others, that, to write the history of one is to write that of
the army or corps as a whole. This would take volumes; it cannot be
done in these brief notes. It must be assumed that the glowing pages
which record the battles of the Rebellion are familiar to all; and
surely he is a doubtful patriot who has not followed them with deep
and absorbing interest. We can here only glance at the regiment at
some of those points in its career at which it was in some way
distinguished from the general mass, by position, or by special acts
of endurance and courage.
It received its baptism of fire at the disastrous battle of
Fredericksburg, December 13th, 1862. On the morning of the 12th, the
division crossed the Rappahannock at "Franklin's Crossing," below the
town, and advanced over the broad plain toward the high ground beyond,
under cover of a dense fog, to "find the enemy," whose position, below
the town, could not be seen--the Fifteenth on the right of the line.
Just before reaching "Deep Run," the enemy discovered the advance, and
opened with their heavy guns from the Heights to the right and front.
The long line of a full regiment did not waver in the least, though
new to the field of battle, and saluted suddenly, for the first time,
with the terrifying explosions of shells from guns of large calibre.
Carefully observed, they seemed to be nerved and animated by the
presence of danger. Patriotic resolve and high moral courage--which
had brought them to the field--mantled to their brows. Their commander
then and ever after knew and trusted his command. A few men were
wounded, but none killed, as the writer remembers. Arrived at the
ravine, it was permitted to remain under its cover during the balance
of the day, whilst a large army was getting into position, and plans
of attack matured. Before light on the morning of the 13th, it was
moved out of the ravine and silently deployed as a skirmish line,
under cover of the darkness and fog, so near to the rebel skirmish
line as to distinctly hear their conversation. Such close contact,
face to face with an armed enemy, gave rise to thoughts and emotions
new to them, and the gradual lifting of the darkness and fog was
watched with anxious faces; but not a man showed signs of flinching.
At the coming of light their sharp and obstinate skirmish fire opened
the first battle in which they took part. The memorable conflict of
the day swept chiefly to the right and left of their long line, but
involved four of the left companies, which participated in the charge
at that point with the Fourth and Twenty-third, and suffered serious
loss. During the following night the drum-corps carried rations from
the trains, several miles away, across the river, and distributed them
along the line, replenishing the exhausted haversacks--a hard night's
work, and a kind of drumming for which they felt they had not
enlisted; but they had new lessons in music yet to learn. In the
morning the regiment was relieved from its advanced position by the
One Hundred and Twenty-first New York, under a galling fire. The
battle was over, however, and the army re-crossed the river.
The regiment went into camp near by, at White Oak Church, and, after
participating in the fruitless expedition known as Burnside's "Mud
March," spent a dismal winter. Typhoid fever, the enemy which no army
can conquer, broke out with distressing virulence, and a considerable
number died of disease. In every regiment there is a somewhat uniform
number of constitutions which cannot resist the privations, hardships,
excitements and exposures of vigorous warfare. These must be
eliminated by death and permanent disability. In some cases the
process is gradual; in others, sudden and rapid, as was the case with
the Fifteenth, owing to its being suddenly taken from civil life and
thrust at once into the severest service, sustained by excitements and
courage until the campaign was over, and then dropped into a muddy
camp in very inclement weather. It was ever afterward free from
sickness to a marked degree.
In the May following came the "Chancellorsville" campaign under
Hooker. The part assigned to the Sixth Corps was to take the Heights
of Fredericksburg, and then strike the enemy in flank and rear, and
unite with the main army, which crossed the river at the upper fords.
Crossing the river at the same place as before, on the morning of the
3d of May, the Fifteenth was placed on the extreme left of the corps
line, to support a battery, and, with the balance of the brigade, to
hold in check a large force of the enemy formed on his right, to
strike the corps in flank and rear, as it attacked the Heights, which
was effectively done by a firm stand, though with considerable loss.
The balance of the corps having carried the Heights by a gallant
charge, it marched through the town, over the Heights, and up the
plank road to Salem Church, a few miles from Chancellorsville. Here it
encountered a large part of the rebel army, diverted to its front
after a successful checking of Hooker. A determined assault was
delivered, but failed to drive them from their well-chosen position.
The Fifteenth charged gallantly through a wood, pushed the enemy some
distance before them, and held the position until ordered to retire
about dark, the general attack having failed of its purpose. The night
was spent in caring for and removing the wounded. It is thought the
Fifteenth was one of the very few regiments which succeeded in getting
off all their wounded, which was mainly due here, as afterward, to one
of the most brave and faithful chaplains, who was ever with his men,
in battle as in camp, and serving them with sleepless and tireless
vigilance. The next day was spent in constant manoeuvering before a
rapidly concentrating enemy, and during the night the corps was
ordered to re-cross the river, at Banks' Ford. After another day spent
in drawing the artillery and pontoon trains through the mud to the
high ground, it returned to its old camp, after the loss of many of
its bravest and best men and officers.
At Gettysburg--the decisive victory of the war--during the pursuit of
the flying rebel army through Pennsylvania, Maryland, and down the
Katoctin valley, back to the line of the Rappahannock; again on the
advance up the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, nearly to its crossing
of the Rapidan, (where the Fifteenth reached the farthest point of any
regiment); back to Centreville by a rapid retreat parallel with the
enemy attempting to turn the Union flank; again forward to the battle
of Rappahannock Station, through the futile Mine Run expedition, and
back to winter-quarters at Brandy Station--the regiment bore an equal
and always honorable part with the other regiments of the corps, doing
its share of the fighting, and suffering its share of the loss.
Nothing is remembered, however, which distinguished it from the
balance of the corps, except, perhaps, that it covered the return from
the third crossing at Fredericksburg--(a demonstration made by the
First Division in the early part of June, to develop the movement of
Lee toward Pennsylvania)--and took up the pontoon bridge in the face
of the enemy--a delicate and difficult service, executed without loss,
in a driving rain.
The winter of 1863-4, at Brandy Station, was diversified by severe
picket and fatigue duty, and embraced an expedition by the brigade to
Madison Court House, as a diversion in favor of Kilpatrick's
celebrated raid to the fortifications of Richmond. The men, under the
lead of the chaplain, built a large and commodious house of logs, in
which religious services--never intermitted, when possible to be
held--and literary exercises were held. This was a great help to the
religious and moral tone of the regiment, as well as conducive to its
military effectiveness. A "Church" of one hundred and thirty members
was organized, and forty-six men were hopefully converted to the
Christian faith. The services were interesting and solemn, and were
attended by many even from distant camps. Two-thirds of the members of
this little church, doubly militant, afterward fell in action, bravely
battling for their country and their God. Who will question the
usefulness and value of a zealous religious instructor in the ranks of
an army in the field?
On the 4th of May, 1864, the army broke camp for the long and bloody
campaign from the Rapidan to Petersburg, and the 5th, 6th, and 7th
found the regiment engaged, with the balance of the army, in "the
Wilderness," doing its full duty with the regiments which fought by
its side. On the 8th, about noon, at the head of the corps, it reached
the front of Spottsylvania C.H., after a long night march, by a
circuitous route. Warren, whose corps (the Fifth) had moved by a more
direct route, and reached the position first, had met with a check. He
sent to Sedgwick--the grand old leader of the Sixth--for aid, and the
Jersey brigade was sent to his assistance. After some manoeuvering,
the Fifteenth, with the Third, (then little more than a detachment,
and used as a skirmish line,) was selected to make an assault on the
enemy, and develop his position and strength. No charge was ever more
gallantly delivered. With two armies looking on, it advanced across an
open field; when within about three hundred yards of the front of the
wood in which the enemy was posted, it fixed bayonets, and with a line
of glittering steel as steady as on dress-parade, dashed up to the
rebel position, to find them strongly entrenched and in full force. As
far as rifle-shot could reach, upon each flank they opened upon the
devoted little band. Notwithstanding the deadly fire, it drove the
enemy out of the work in its front, captured two prisoners, and, to
save annihilation, was ordered by its commander to retire. One hundred
and one of its brave officers and men were left upon the field, killed
or wounded. It may be doubted if a more perilous "forlorn hope" was
ever more daringly executed.
The Sixth Corps took position on the left of the line as it was
formed, its lamented commander falling on the same spot at which one
of the color-bearers of the Fifteenth had but just fallen; and on the
afternoon of the 9th the regiment was detached, with the First, to
turn the right flank of the enemy and gain possession of a
cross-roads. After wading a deep swamp, and a sharp brush with the
rebel skirmishers, the cross-roads was under their guns, and they were
separated some distance from the main army. The next morning, being
ordered to develop the flank of the enemy's main line, the two
regiments advanced, drove the rebel skirmish line before them for
about a mile, and finally struck the right of the rebel line, strongly
entrenched on the top of a high hill. This was the position afterward
known as "the bloody angle." The two regiments attacked vigorously,
but were forced back by a heavy musketry and artillery fire. Two more
regiments were sent to their assistance, and again they attacked, but
with no better success, and they were compelled to be content with
holding the position they had gained in an unequal contest. The
characteristic orders under which they were acting, issued by an able
general officer, afterward killed, and sadly missed, were--"Fight!
Fight! ---- it, fight!" Two days later, this was found to be the
strongest field-work ever attacked by the army.
On the afternoon of the same day, (the 10th,) a series of assaults was
organized along the different corps lines. The Second Division of the
Second Corps, which had come up by the crossroads taken as above
related, was to make the charge on the extreme left, and the two
detached regiments reported to, and participated in the charge with
it. Only one of these assaults was successful, (that of the Sixth
Corps,) and the line of works and many of the prisoners captured by it
had to be abandoned, owing to the failure of the attacks to the right
and left. That on the left being unsuccessful, and the troops retiring
from the hill, left the two detached regiments again alone to hold the
ground which had cost them a severe struggle. This they did until
relieved after dark, when, rejoining their brigade, they left the
position to the Second Corps, all of which was concentrated there on
the night of the 11th.
On the 12th came one of the most stubbornly-contested struggles of the
war. It was for the possession of the "bloody angle" which the
Fifteenth and First had repeatedly attacked two days previously. The
first charge was made by the Second Corps early in the morning, took
the rebels by surprise, carried a part of the line of works, captured
several thousand prisoners and a large number of guns. The Sixth Corps
was moved to the position as soon as practicable, to complete the
victory, the enemy having recovered from the shock and concentrated
his forces. The First Division was ordered to attack first, to the
right of the Second Corps, in _echelon_ of brigades, the First Brigade
on the right, and the Fifteenth Regiment on the extreme right of the
front line. It was placed in position, in a wood of low pines, by a
superior officer, in a drizzling rain. At the order to charge, it
dashed gallantly forward with bayonets fixed, and trailed to escape
the low branches, into the narrow strip of open ground, upon the
opposite margin of which was the rebel intrenched line, covered with
an _abattis_ of slashed brush. Its line being very oblique to that of
the enemy, it was compelled to execute a halfwheel, under a most
murderous fire. Again it dashed forward, carried the work at the point
of the bayonet, (and with some actual bayonet fighting, a very unusual
thing,) captured a stand of colors and all the rebels who did not fall
or run. It was the only regiment of the Sixth Corps which got inside
the enemy's fortifications that day. Its right flank, however, being
entirely "in the air," and a solid rebel line moving toward it,
subjected to the continued fire from a second rebel work in front and
from the numerous "traverses" of the line to the left which had not
been carried, it was compelled to retire again to the wood. This
desperate charge was made at fearful cost. More than half of the rank
and file, and seven of the most valued officers fell, killed or
wounded, inside or near the hostile works. Out of four hundred and
twenty-nine men and fourteen line officers who crossed the Rapidan on
the 4th, only one hundred and twenty-two men and four officers
remained.
It has been said that the other brigades did not get actual possession
of the works in their front. They did, however, gain and hold a
position so near as to command and hold them under their guns, until
abandoned during the night. How obstinate and determined was the rebel
defence was shown by the fact that the trench, full three feet deep,
was, in places, even full of rebel dead, and a pavement of mud
covering the uppermost bodies, told how they had stood upon their
fallen comrades and continued the fight. A large white oak tree was
cut off by bullets even with the top of the breastwork, and in its
fall pinned one rebel soldier to the ground.
From Spottsylvania to Petersburg--a sanguinary track, with every
here-and-there a fierce encounter with the foe--thence, in July, to
Washington, where Early was met at the head of Seventh street; thence
into the Shenandoah Valley, under Sheridan, the regiment shared the
successes and failures, the honors and losses, of the army and corps.
It was often detached for special service of responsibility and
danger. In the pursuit of Early's flying troops from the gates of
Washington, it became necessary to send a force across to the parallel
road on which the enemy were moving, to ascertain the position of the
rear of their column, and verify a suspected intention on their part
to halt and strike in flank our rapidly-advancing column. The
Fifteenth New Jersey was sent upon that mission, and executed it to
the satisfaction of the corps commander, but found no such design on
the part of the enemy. A few days later, Early contested the crossing
of the Shenandoah at Snicker's Ford, and it was desired to examine the
fords lower down the river. The Fifteenth was again sent, tested the
fords, the depth of water, bed of the stream, &c., under a skirmish
fire, and returned with its information--which was not needed, as the
upper ford was abandoned by the enemy during the night.
At Winchester, on the 17th of August, whilst Sheridan was retiring
before Early's army, reinforced by Longstreet, (not because unable to
cope with it, but because under orders from Grant not to accept or
deliver battle at that time,) the First Brigade was left, with the
cavalry, to obstruct their march whilst our army was crossing the
Opequan and getting into position. The Fifteenth Regiment was deployed
into a skirmish line, and posted across the turnpike by which they
were approaching, the other regiments being posted farther to the
left. From noon until nearly dark it held them in check, with the
assistance of two squadrons (dismounted) of the Third New Jersey
Cavalry, deluding them into the belief that Sheridan's whole army was
there in position to receive their attack. The men were carefully
posted along a small stream, behind stone fences, trees, and rocks.
Two rebel skirmish lines successively pushed against them, soon
retired, being badly punished, and Early's army ployed into columns of
attack. There was something seriously ludicrous in the sight. Twenty
thousand rebels could be distinctly seen from the hills on which our
right rested, carefully forming to attack a feeble line of
skirmishers. Our brigade numbered but eight hundred and fifty muskets,
all told; no supports but the color-guards. The cavalry, massed to the
rear, could render no assistance against heavy columns of infantry.
Whilst the formation was proceeding, the stubborn skirmish continued,
and, as we afterward learned, Early decided to postpone the attack
until the next day. Just before dark, however, Breckenridge, who
commanded Early's left division, was led in some way to suspect the
weakness of the force before him, and obtained permission to put his
left brigade in charge. The solid mass plunged directly through our
attenuated line of one man to every five or ten paces; then brigade
after brigade charged in _echelon_ from their left to right. The
fighting qualities of men were seldom more severely tested. It was
easy to get away, but to hold the enemy on the right, or so obstruct
them that the other regiments posted to the left could get out, was a
serious problem. The line was rallied and re-formed, from one stone
fence to another. In the darkness the men sometimes became
intermingled with the enemy, a Union officer, at one time, assuming
command of a rebel regiment. About eleven o'clock, in the outskirts of
the city, the contest was finally given up, all the left getting away
but a detachment of the Tenth, which got lost in the darkness, and a
few men of the Fifteenth and Fourth, surrounded unawares.
On the 19th of September came the battle of the Opequan--generally
known as the battle of Winchester. Viewed in all its relations, it was
one of the most important of the war. At the first onset of Sheridan's
army, the enemy were forced some distance from their position; but the
impetus of the assault being broken by an obstinate resistance, the
Union lines retired a short distance, and the enemy made a counter
advance. The Fifteenth was pushed forward on a double-quick, across a
ravine, to take possession of a hill and obstruct their advance,
whilst the lines were being reorganized. It was a perilous duty
gallantly discharged. One of our division commanders said the movement
saved the day. The re-formed lines again advanced, gathering up the
Fifteenth in their progress, and Early was sent "whirling up the
valley."
Three days later, (on the 22d,) at Fisher's Hill, which they regarded
as an impregnable position, the First New Jersey Brigade was
designated to lead the charge, being about the centre of the corps
line. Sweeping down through a ravine, clambering up the opposite rocks
to the grassy <DW72> which fronted the rebel line, under a perfect
storm of bullets, which fortunately passed almost wholly just over
their heads, they rushed up to and entered the works in advance of any
other troops, capturing a number of guns, and pursued the flying enemy
across the plain until darkness covered their retreat. It was the
first brigade re-formed after the long charge, and ready for the night
march in pursuit.
At Cedar Creek, on the 19th of October--another famous victory--after
the left of the Union line, composed of parts of the Eighth and
Nineteenth Corps, had been routed by the enemy's successfully executed
surprise before daylight, the Sixth Corps moved rapidly by a flank
across the track of their advance, and the Jersey Brigade occupied the
most advanced and difficult position, holding it firmly under severe
fire. Once it was ordered back to the general alignment, but its
former place being considered a key position, it was ordered to retake
it, which it did, and held it tenaciously and successfully, until
again ordered to retire, with the whole corps, to the new line
selected for strategic reasons, (the first having been assumed in the
haste and confusion of the morning.) This was no "rout," as
represented by a popular ballad, but a movement deliberately planned
and executed by Gen. Wright, in the absence of Sheridan, who, upon
arrival, after his famous "ride," found the corps in a well
formed-line, and quietly taking their luncheon, preparatory to the
counter attack of the afternoon, which routed the army seven times
encountered within four months, captured a considerable part of it,
with guns and colors, and ended its existence as a separate command.
In this battle, one of the three field officers of the Fifteenth was
killed, and the other two wounded; the line, rank and file, suffered
severely.
From Cedar Creek, back to the main army before Petersburg, through the
remaining operations there, including the final assault and capture of
Petersburg and Richmond, along the rapid pursuit to Appomatox, we
cannot follow the regiment in detail. We have already exceeded our
limits. We must content ourselves with saying that, throughout these,
and those of previous campaigns which have been passed over without
mention, it always did its duty. In the long marches, by night and
day, in summer's heat and winter's cold, through loamy mud and mucky
swamp, in rain and snow, over frozen hummocks or glaze of ice,
burdened with arms, ammunition, rations, accoutrements and
equipments, often pressed to the limit of human endurance, it was
always in its place, and cheerfully responded to the word of command.
In the numerous minor fights and skirmishes, which often try the
soldier more than the general engagement, it did what was expected of
it. In the death-grapples of army with army, from 1862 to 1865, it
bore the stars and stripes with honor and distinction. No regiment
fought with more tenacious courage, or presented a more steady and
unbroken front to the foe. Where the fire was hottest, the charge most
impetuous, the resistance most stubborn, the carnage most fearful, it
was found. It was never ordered to take a position that it did not
reach it. It was never required to hold a post that it did not hold
it. It never assaulted a line of the enemy that it did not drive it.
It never charged a rebel work that it did not breach it. Whatever
might be the general result, the Fifteenth New Jersey Volunteers
always performed the part assigned it.
The sad part of the story--that at which eyes will moisten and hearts
ache--must be told in few lines. Such a record must be traced in
blood. When the roll is called, three hundred and sixty-one times it
must be answered, "Dead on the field of honor." They gave their lives
for the Union, for their country, for the cause of human liberty.
Their names should be written in gold, and hallowed by a grateful
people with affectionate remembrance. No other regiment from New
Jersey suffered nearly so heavy a loss, though most were much larger
in numbers. Add to this "roll of honor" the unknown number of those
crippled by wounds and wasted by incurable disease; remember that they
came chiefly from the original nine hundred and forty-seven, and some
idea may be formed of the horrid work of war. It is often a source of
painful reflections to look back over the history of this regiment and
think of the large number of promising young men, many of them the
brightest, bravest, purest, and best of our State, who fell along its
bloody pathway, from Fredericksburg to Appomattox. Who can estimate
their value to our State and country, if living? Fallen, who can
compute the loss?
CASUALTIES
DURING THE
WILDERNESS CAMPAIGN.
(_Correspondence of the Sussex Register._)
SUNDAY, May 15, 1864.
I send you a list of casualties in our regiment up to the present
time. Most of those reported missing, are most likely | 2,181.451179 |
2023-11-16 18:53:25.4312030 | 283 | 6 |
Produced by Curtis Weyant, Julia Neufeld and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
The carat character (^) indicates that the following letter is
superscripted. If two or more letters are superscripted they are
enclosed in curly brackets (example: M^{R.}).
* * * * *
[Illustration: titlepage]
[Illustration: _J. Rodgers, sc._
_View of the Senate of the United States in Session._
M^{R.} BENTON ON THE FLOOR.
_from a large Engraving Published by E. Anthony_
New York, D Appleton & C^{o.}]
THIRTY YEARS' VIEW;
OR,
A HISTORY OF THE WORKING OF THE AMERICAN
GOVERNMENT FOR THIRTY YEARS,
FROM 1820 TO 1850.
CHIEFLY TAKEN
FROM THE CONGRESS DEBATES, THE PRIVATE PAPERS | 2,181.451243 |
2023-11-16 18:53:25.6292450 | 283 | 13 |
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HARPER'S
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
NO. XX--JANUARY, 1852--VOL. IV.
[Illustration]
EARLY AND PRIVATE LIFE OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
BY JACOB ABBOTT.
It is generally true in respect to great statesmen that they owe their
celebrity almost entirely to their public and official career. They
promote the welfare of mankind by directing legislation, founding
institutions, negotiating treaties of peace or of commerce between rival
states, and guiding, in various other ways, the course of public and
national affairs, while their individual and personal influence attracts
very little regard. With Benjamin Franklin, however, the reverse of this
is true. He did indeed, while he lived, take a very active part, with
other leading men of his time, in the performance of great public
functions; but his claim to the extraordinary degree of respect and
veneration which is so freely awarded to his name and memory by the
American people, rests not chiefly upon this, but upon the extended
influence which he has exerted, and which he still continues to exert
upon the national mind, through the power of his private and | 2,181.649285 |
2023-11-16 18:53:26.5330830 | 1,058 | 30 |
Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer
A MODEST PROPOSAL
For preventing the children of poor people in Ireland, from being a
burden on their parents or country, and for making them beneficial to
the publick.
by Dr. Jonathan Swift
1729
It is a melancholy object to those, who walk through this great town,
or travel in the country, when they see the streets, the roads and
cabbin-doors crowded with beggars of the female sex, followed by three,
four, or six children, all in rags, and importuning every passenger for
an alms. These mothers instead of being able to work for their honest
livelihood, are forced to employ all their time in stroling to beg
sustenance for their helpless infants who, as they grow up, either turn
thieves for want of work, or leave their dear native country, to fight
for the Pretender in Spain, or sell themselves to the Barbadoes.
I think it is agreed by all parties, that this prodigious number of
children in the arms, or on the backs, or at the heels of their mothers,
and frequently of their fathers, is in the present deplorable state of
the kingdom, a very great additional grievance; and therefore whoever
could find out a fair, cheap and easy method of making these children
sound and useful members of the common-wealth, would deserve so well of
the publick, as to have his statue set up for a preserver of the nation.
But my intention is very far from being confined to provide only for the
children of professed beggars: it is of a much greater extent, and shall
take in the whole number of infants at a certain age, who are born of
parents in effect as little able to support them, as those who demand
our charity in the streets.
As to my own part, having turned my thoughts for many years, upon this
important subject, and maturely weighed the several schemes of
our projectors, I have always found them grossly mistaken in their
computation. It is true, a child just dropt from its dam, may be
supported by her milk, for a solar year, with little other nourishment:
at most not above the value of two shillings, which the mother may
certainly get, or the value in scraps, by her lawful occupation of
begging; and it is exactly at one year old that I propose to provide for
them in such a manner, as, instead of being a charge upon their parents,
or the parish, or wanting food and raiment for the rest of their lives,
they shall, on the contrary, contribute to the feeding, and partly to
the cloathing of many thousands.
There is likewise another great advantage in my scheme, that it will
prevent those voluntary abortions, and that horrid practice of
women murdering their bastard children, alas! too frequent among us,
sacrificing the poor innocent babes, I doubt, more to avoid the expence
than the shame, which would move tears and pity in the most savage and
inhuman breast.
The number of souls in this kingdom being usually reckoned one million
and a half, of these I calculate there may be about two hundred thousand
couple whose wives are breeders; from which number I subtract thirty
thousand couple, who are able to maintain their own children, (although
I apprehend there cannot be so many, under the present distresses of
the kingdom) but this being granted, there will remain an hundred and
seventy thousand breeders. I again subtract fifty thousand, for those
women who miscarry, or whose children die by accident or disease within
the year. There only remain an hundred and twenty thousand children of
poor parents annually born. The question therefore is, How this number
shall be reared, and provided for? which, as I have already said, under
the present situation of affairs, is utterly impossible by all the
methods hitherto proposed. For we can neither employ them in handicraft
or agriculture; they neither build houses, (I mean in the country) nor
cultivate land: they can very seldom pick up a livelihood by stealing
till they arrive at six years old; except where they are of towardly
parts, although I confess they learn the rudiments much earlier;
during which time they can however be properly looked upon only as
probationers: As I have been informed by a principal gentleman in the
county of Cavan, who protested to me, that he never knew above one or
two instances under the age of six, even in a part of the kingdom so
renowned for the quickest proficiency in that art.
I am assured by our merchants, that a boy or a girl before twelve years
old, is no saleable commodity, and even when they come to this age, they
will not yield above three pounds, or three pounds and half a crown
at most, on the exchange; which cannot turn to | 2,182.553123 |
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Transcriber's Notes: Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been
left as in the original. Some typographical and punctuation errors have
been corrected. A complete list follows the text.
Words surrounded by _underscores_ are in italics in the original.
Ellipses match the original. A row of asterisks represents a thought
break.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| |
| The Twentieth |
| Century American |
| |
| Being |
| |
| A Comparative Study of the Peoples of |
| the Two Great Anglo-Saxon Nations |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| |
| BY |
| |
| H. PERRY ROBINSON |
| |
| AUTHOR OF "MEN BORN EQUAL," "THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY |
| OF A BLACK BEAR," ETC. |
| |
| |
| [Illustration] |
| |
| |
| The Chautauqua Press |
| CHAUTAUQUA, NEW YORK |
| MCMXI |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------+
COPYRIGHT, 1908
BY
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
TO
THOSE READERS,
WHETHER ENGLISH OR AMERICAN,
WHO
AGREE WITH WHATEVER IS SAID IN THE
FOLLOWING PAGES IN LAUDATION OF
THEIR OWN COUNTRY
THIS BOOK
IS INSCRIBED IN THE HOPE
THAT THEY WILL BE EQUALLY READY TO ACCEPT
WHATEVER THEY FIND IN PRAISE
OF
THE OTHER.
[Illustration: The British Isles and the United States.
A Comparison (see Chapter IV.)]
PREFATORY NOTE
There are already many books about America; but the majority of these
have been written by Englishmen after so brief an acquaintance with the
country that it is doubtful whether they contribute much to English
knowledge of the subject.
My reason for adding another volume to the list is the hope of being
able to do something to promote a better understanding between the
peoples, having as an excuse the fact that I have lived in the United
States for nearly twenty years, under conditions which have given rather
exceptional opportunities of intimacy with the people of various parts
of the country socially, in business, and in politics. Wherever my
judgment is wrong it is not from lack of abundant chance to learn the
truth.
Except in one instance--very early in the book--I have avoided the use
of statistics, in spite of frequent temptation to refer to them to
fortify arguments which must without them appear to be merely the
expression of an individual opinion.
H. P. R.
February, 1908.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
AN ANGLO-AMERICAN ALLIANCE 5
The Avoidance of Entangling Alliances--What the Injunction
Meant--What it Cannot Mean To-day--The Interests of the United
States, no less than those of England, Demand an Alliance--But
Larger Interests than those of the Two Peoples are
Involved--American Responsiveness to Ideals--The Greatest
Ideal of All, Universal Peace: the Practicability of its
Attainment--America's Responsibility--Misconceptions of the
British Empire--Germany's Position--American Susceptibilities.
CHAPTER II
THE DIFFERENCE IN POINT OF VIEW 35
The Anglo-Saxon Family Likeness-- | 2,182.556244 |
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A Captain of Industry
BEING
_The Story of a Civilized Man_
BY
UPTON SINCLAIR
AUTHOR OF "THE JUNGLE," ETC.
GIRARD, KANSAS
THE APPEAL | 2,182.749947 |
2023-11-16 18:53:26.9275530 | 1,583 | 11 | A TREATISE ON PHYSIOLOGY AND HYGIENE ***
Produced by Bryan Ness, Keith Edkins and the Online
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file was produced from images generously made available
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Transcriber's note: A few typographical errors have been corrected: they
are listed at the end of the text.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE VISCERA IN POSITION.]
* * * * *
A
TREATISE
ON
PHYSIOLOGY AND HYGIENE
FOR
EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS AND GENERAL READERS.
_FULLY ILLUSTRATED._
BY
JOSEPH C. HUTCHISON, M. D.,
_President of the New York Pathological Society, Vice-President of the New
York
Academy of Medicine, Surgeon to the Brooklyn City Hospital, late
President
of the Medical Society of the State of New York, etc._
* * * * *
NEW YORK:
CLARK & MAYNARD, PUBLISHERS,
5 BARCLAY STREET.
1872.
* * * * *
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870,
By CLARK & MAYNARD.
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Stereotyped by LITTLE, RENNIE & CO.
645 and 647 Broadway.
* * * * *
TO MY WIFE,
WHOSE SYMPATHY HAS, FOR MORE THAN TWENTY YEARS, LIGHTENED THE
CARES INCIDENT TO
_AN ACTIVE PROFESSIONAL LIFE_,
THIS HUMBLE VOLUME
IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
* * * * *
{3}
PREFACE.
------o------
This work is designed to present the leading facts and principles of human
Physiology and Hygiene in clear and concise language, so that pupils in
schools and colleges, and readers not familiar with the subjects, may
readily comprehend them. Anatomy, or a description of the structure of an
organ, is of course necessary to the understanding of its Physiology, or
its uses. Enough of the former study has, therefore, been introduced, to
enable the pupil to enter intelligently upon the latter.
Familiar language, as far as practicable, has been employed, rather than
that of a technical character. With a view, however, to supply what might
seem to some a deficiency in this regard, a Pronouncing Glossary has been
added, which will enable the inquirer to understand the meaning of many
scientific terms not in common use.
In the preparation of the work the writer has carefully examined all the
best material at his command, and freely used it; the special object being
to have it abreast of the present knowledge on the subjects treated, as far
as such is possible in a work so elementary as this. The discussion of
disputed points has been avoided, it being manifestly inappropriate in a
work of this kind.
Instruction in the rudiments of Physiology in schools does not necessitate
the general practice of dissections, or of experiments upon animals. The
most important subjects may be illustrated by {4} drawings, such as are
contained in this work. Models, especially those constructed by AUZOUX of
Paris, dried preparations of the human body, and the organs of the lower
animals, may also be used with advantage.
The writer desires to acknowledge his indebtedness to R. M. WYCKOFF, M.D.,
for valuable aid in the preparation of the manuscript for the press; and to
R. CRESSON STILES, M.D., a skilful microscopist and physician, for the
chapter "On the Use of the Microscope in the Study of Physiology." Mr. AVON
C. BURNHAM, the well-known teacher of gymnastics, furnished the drawing of
the parlor gymnasium and the directions for its use.
_Brooklyn, N. Y., 1870._
* * * * *
{5}
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
THE FRAMEWORK OF THE BODY 15
_The Bones--Their form and composition--The Properties of Bone--The
Skeleton--The Joints--The Spinal Column--The Growth of Bone--The
Repair of Bone._
CHAPTER II.
THE MUSCLES 25
_The Muscles--Flexion and Extension--The Tendons--Contraction--Physical
Strength--Necessity for Exercise--Its Effects--Forms of
Exercise--Walking--Riding--Gymnastics--Open-air Exercise--Sleep--
Recreation._
CHAPTER III.
THE INTEGUMENT, OR SKIN 41
_The Integument--Its Structure--The Nails and Hair--The Complexion--The
Sebaceous Glands--The Perspiratory Glands--Perspiration
and its uses--Importance of Bathing--Different kinds of Baths--Manner
of Bathing--The Benefits of the Sun--Importance of
Warm Clothing--Poisonous Cosmetics._
CHAPTER IV.
THE CHEMISTRY OF FOOD 53
_The Source of Food--Inorganic Substances--Water--Salt--Lime--Iron--
Organic Substances--Albumen, Fibrin, and Casein--The Fats or
Oils--The Sugars, Starch, and Gum--Stimulating Substances--Necessity
of a Regulated Diet._
{6}
CHAPTER V.
FOOD AND DRINK 64
_Necessity for Food--Waste and Repair--Hunger and Thirst--Amount
of Food--Renovation of the Body--Mixed Diet--Milk--Eggs--Meat--Cooking
--Vegetable Food--Bread--The Potato--Fruits--Purity
of Water--Action of Water upon Lead--Coffee, Tea, and Chocolate--Effects
of Alcohol._
CHAPTER VI.
DIGESTION 80
_The Principal Processes of Nutrition--The General Plan of Digestion--
Mastication--The Teeth--Preservation of the Teeth--Insalivation--The
Stomach and the Gastric Juice--The Movements of the
Stomach--Gastric Digestion--The Intestines--The Bile and Pancreatic
Juice--Intestinal Digestion--Absorption by means of Blood-vessels
and Lacteals--The Lymphatic or Absorbent System--The
Lymph--Conditions which affect Digestion--The Quality, Quantity,
and Temperature of the Food--The Influence of Exercise and
Sleep._
CHAPTER VII.
THE CIRCULATION 101
_The Blood--Its Plasma and Corpuscles--Coagulation of the Blood--The
Uses of the Blood--Transfusion--Change of Color--The Organs of
the Circulation--The Heart, Arteries, and Veins--The Cavities
and Valves of the Heart--Its Vital Energy--Passage of the Blood
through the Heart--The Frequency and Activity | 2,182.947593 |
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 107.
AUGUST 18, 1894.
MORE ORNAMENTAL THAN USEFUL.
(_A Legend of the Results of the School Board._)
The Committee sat waiting patiently for candidates. Although the papers
had been full of advertisements describing the appointments the
_reclames_ had had no effect. There were certainly a number of persons
in the waiting-room, but the usher had declared that they did not
possess the elementary qualifications for the post that the Committee
were seeking to fill with a suitable official.
"Usher," cried the Chairman at length with some impatience; "I am sure
you must be wrong. Let us see some of the occupants of the adjoining
office."
The usher bowed with a grace that had been acquired by several years
study in deportment in the Board School, and replied that he fancied
that most of the applicants were too highly educated for the coveted
position.
"Too highly educated!" exclaimed the representative of municipal
progress. "It is impossible to be too highly educated! You don't know
what you're talking about!"
"Pardon me, Sir," returned the Usher, with another graceful inclination
of the head, "but | 2,182.951215 |
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[Illustration: ON THE MISSOURI STEAMER. Page 11.]
ONWARD
AND
UPWARD
SERIES
PLANE AND PLANK
FIELD & FOREST-PLANE & PLANK-DESK & DEBIT
CRINGLE & CROSS-TREE-BIVOUAC & BATTLE-SEA & SHORE
Illustrated
LEE & SHEPARD
BOSTON
_THE UPWARD AND ONWARD SERIES._
PLANE AND PLANK;
OR,
THE MISHAPS OF A MECHANIC.
BY
OLIVER OPTIC,
AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD," "THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES,"
"THE WOODVILLE STORIES," "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES," "THE STARRY
FLAG STORIES," "THE LAKE-SHORE
SERIES," ETC.
WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS.
BOSTON:
LEE AND SHEPARD.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871,
BY WILLIAM T. ADAMS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
ELECTROTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
19 Spring Lane.
TO
MY YOUNG FRIEND
_GEORGE W. HILLS_
This Book
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
PREFACE.
"PLANE AND PLANK" is the second of THE UPWARD AND ONWARD SERIES, in
which the hero, Phil Farringford, appears as a mechanic. The events
of the story are located on the Missouri River and in the city of St.
Louis. Phil learns the trade of a carpenter, and the contrast between a
young mechanic of an inquiring mind, earnestly laboring to master his
business, and one who feels above his calling, and overvalues his own
skill, is presented to the young reader, with the hope that he will
accept the lesson.
Incidentally, in the person and history of Phil's father the terrible
evils of intemperance are depicted, and the value of Christian love
and earnest prayer in the reformation of the unfortunate inebriate is
exhibited.
Though the incidents of the hero's career are quite stirring, and
some of the situations rather surprising, yet Phil is always true to
himself; and those who find themselves in sympathy with him cannot
possibly be led astray, while they respect his Christian principles,
reverence the Bible, and strive with him to do their whole duty to God
and man.
HARRISON SQUARE, BOSTON,
_June 7, 1870._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Page
IN WHICH PHIL MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. LEONIDAS
LYNCHPINNE. 11
CHAPTER II.
IN WHICH PHIL MEETS WITH HIS FIRST MISHAP. 22
CHAPTER III.
IN WHICH PHIL SLIPS OFF HIS COAT, AND RETREATS IN
GOOD ORDER. 33
CHAPTER IV.
IN WHICH PHIL ENDEAVORS TO REMEDY HIS FIRST MISHAP. 44
CHAPTER V.
IN WHICH PHIL VAINLY SEARCHES FOR THE GRACEWOODS. 55
CHAPTER VI.
IN WHICH PHIL WANDERS ABOUT ST. LOUIS AND HAS A
GLEAM OF HOPE. 66
CHAPTER VII.
IN WHICH PHIL HEARS FROM HIS FRIENDS AND VISITS MR.
CLINCH. 77
CHAPTER VIII.
IN WHICH PHIL GOES TO WORK, AND MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 88
CHAPTER IX.
IN WHICH PHIL MEETS A SEEDY GENTLEMAN BY THE NAME
OF FARRINGFORD. 100
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH PHIL LISTENS TO A VERY IMPRESSIVE TEMPERANCE
LECTURE. 112
CHAPTER XI.
IN WHICH PHIL TAKES HIS FATHER TO HIS NEW HOME. 123
CHAPTER XII.
IN WHICH PHIL LISTENS TO A DISCUSSION, AND TAKES
PART IN A STRUGGLE. 135
CHAPTER XIII.
IN WHICH PHIL HAS ANOTHER MISHAP, AND IS TAKEN TO A
POLICE STATION. 147
CHAPTER XIV.
IN WHICH PHIL RECOVERS HIS MONEY. 160
CHAPTER XV.
IN WHICH PHIL PRODUCES THE RELICS OF HIS CHILDHOOD. 172
CHAPTER XVI.
IN WHICH PHIL STRUGGLES EARNESTLY TO REFORM HIS
FATHER. 183
CHAPTER XVII.
IN WHICH PHIL MEETS THE LAST OF THE ROCKWOODS. 195
CHAPTER | 2,182.952844 |
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 98
January 11, 1890.
UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.
"Tres volontiers," repartit le demon. "Vous aimez les tableaux
changeans; je veux vous contenter."
_Le Diable Boiteux._
XVI.
"Midnight's meridian is supposed to mark
The bound twixt toil and slumber. Light and dark
Mete out the lives of mortals
In happy alternation," said my guide.
"Six hours must fleet ere Phoebus shall set wide
His glowing orient portals.
"The last loud halloo at the tavern-door
long since has driven the reckless and the poor
From misery's only haven
Forth on the chilling night. 'All out! All out!'
Less sad would fall on bibulous souls, no doubt,
The refrain of the Raven.
"London lies shuttered close. Law's measured beat
Falls echoing down the shadow-chequered street;
A distant cab-wheel clatters;
The wastrel's drunken cry, the waif's low moan,
Reach not the ear of tired Philistia, prone,
Dreaming of other matters."
"The Shadow's slow subacid speech, I knew,
Foreboded more than mirth. Downward we drew,
Silent, and all un-noted,
O'er sleeping Shopdom. Sleeping? Closer quest
Might prove it one vast Valley of Unrest
O'er which we mutely floated.
"Post-midnight peace," I said, "must fall like balm,
After the long day's turmoil, on this calm,
Close-clustering, lamp-lit city,"
"Peace?" sighed the Shadow. "She of the white dove
Is not less partial in her gifts than Love,
Or Wealth, or Worldly Pity.
"See yon close-shuttered shop! Peace broodeth there,
You deem perchance; but look within. A lair
Of midnight smugglers, stirring
At the sea's signal, scarce seems more agog.
And yet each toiler's heart lies like a log,
Sleep each tired eye is blurring.
"Feet scuttle, fingers fleet, pens work apace;
A whipt-up zeal marks every pallid face;
One voice austere, sonorous,
Chides, threatens, sometimes curses. How they flush,
Its victims silent, tame! That voice would hush
A seraph-choir in chorus.
"Strident, sardonic, stern; the harrying sound
Lashes them like a flail the long hours round,
Till to strained nerves 'twere sweeter
To silence it with one fierce passionate grip,
Than into some bland Lotos Land to slip,
And moon out life to metre.
"From early morn till midnight these poor slaves
Have'served the public;' now, when nature craves
Rest from the strain and scurry
Of Shopdom's servitude, they still must wake
Some weary hours, though hands with fever shake
And nerves are racked with worry.
"Though the great streets are still, the shutters up,
Gas flares within, and ere they sleep or sup
These serfs of Competition
Must clean, and sort and sum. There's much to do
Behind those scenes set fair to public view
By hucksters of position.
"The shop-assistant's Sabbath has begun!
His sixteen hours long Saturday has run
Its wearing course and weary.
The last light's out, and many an aching head
At last, at last, seeks in a lonely bed
A dreamland dim and dreary.
"In roseate visions shall racked souls rejoice
Haunted by echoes of that harrying voice?
Nay, friend, uncounted numbers
Of victims to commercial strain and stress,
Seek nought more sweet than dull forgetfulness
In the short night's scant slumbers."
"Too sombre Spirit, hath the opening year
No scenes of gayer hope and gentler cheer?
Is all beneath night's curtain
In this vast city void of promise glad?
Are all the guests of midnight spectres sad,
And suffering and uncertain?"
So I addressed the Shadow. "Friend," he smiled.
"'Twas 'lurid London' that you wished 'untiled.'
Most secret things are sinister.
Innocent mirth needs no Ithuriel spear
To make its inner entity appear.
Still, to your mood I'll minister.
"Not long-drawn Labour only breaks the rest
Of London's night. Society in quest
Of Gold's sole rival, Pleasure,
Makes little of the bounds of dark and day.
Night's hours lead on a dance as glad and gay
As the old Horaes' measure.
"Look!" Such a burst of laughter shook the room
As might dispel a desert anchorite's gloom.
Flushed faces keen and clever
Contorted wildly; such mirth-moving shape
Was taken by that genial histrion's jape
As mobs are mute at never.
A long soft-lighted room, the muffled beat
On carpets soft of watchful waiters' feet
In deft attendance gliding;
A table spread with toothsome morsels, fit
For the night-feast of genius, wealth and wit,
Of a skilled _chef's_ providing.
Goodfellowship, _bonnes bouches_, right pleasant tales
Of _bonnes fortunes!_ Here a quaint cynic rails,
There an enthusiast gushes.
Gay talk flows on, not in a rolling stream,
But with the brooklet's intermittent gleam
And brisk irradiant rushes.
Side-lights from all Society shift here
Reflected in keen _mot_ and jocund jeer,
Wild jest, and waggish whimsey.
Stagedom disrobed and Statecraft in undress,
Stars of the Art-world, pillars of the Press,
Sage solid, _flaneur_ flimsy,
All cross and counter here; they lounge and sup:
The fragrant smoke-cloud and the foaming cup
Tickle their eager senses.
What care these for the clock, whilst banter flows
And dainty "snacks" and toothsome herring-roes
The distant cook dispenses?
"How different these," my calm companion said,
"From the crowd yonder! These yearn not for bed
As rest from leaden labour."
The night may be far spent, the Sabbath dawns,
But here no dull brain-palsied drowser yawns
At his half-nodding neighbour.
"With wit, and wealth, and wine, the hours of night
In sombre Babylon may dispense delight.
These revellers, slumber-scorning,
Radiant and well-arrayed, will stop, and stop,
Till waiters drowse. But then, yon slaves of Shop
Must meet a different morning."
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
An unsatisfactory christmas present.--We can well understand and
sympathise with you in your disappointment on discovering that you had
been deceived as to the amount of intelligence possessed by the Learned
Pig that you had been induced to purchase as a Christmas present for
your invalid Grandfather. It must have been very annoying, after having
imagined that you had provided your aged relative with a nice long
winter's evening amusement resulting from the creature's advertised
powers of telling fortunes and spelling sentences with a pack of
ordinary playing cards, to receive a letter from the housekeeper
bitterly complaining of its performance, which seems merely to have
consisted of eating all the tea-cake, biting a housemaid, getting
between your Grandfather's legs and upsetting him in his armchair, and,
finally, when pursued, trying to obtain refuge in the grand piano. You
cannot be surprised after this experience, that it has been intimated to
you that if you do not take the creature yourself away at once, it will
be forthwith handed over to the first policeman that passes. Yes, spite
the pig's reputed intellectual gifts, we would advise you to close with
the pork-butcher's offer you mention. When the creature has been cut up,
send your Grandfather some of the sausages. This may possibly appease
the old gentleman, and serve to allay the irritation that your
unfortunate Christmas gift appears to have occasioned.
* * * * *
THE NORTH WALLS.--The Sporting Correspondent of the _Sunday Times_ tells
us that Colonel NORTH is "having a new ball-room"--(he wouldn't have an
old one built, would he? But no matter)--"the walls of which are
composed of onyx." Of course, a Billionaire pays all the workmen
punctually and regularly; therefore, "Owe-nix" walls are an appropriate
memorial. _Si monumentum quaeris, circumspice._
* * * * *
DARES AND ENTELLUS.
(_New Non-Virgilian Version told by Punchius to the Shade of Sayerius in
the Elysian Fields. With Intercalary Observations by the Illustrious
ex-Pugilist._)
Illustration: _Mr. Punch._ "WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT, TOM?"
_Shade of Sayers._ "THINK!" (_Disgusted._) "WHY, I THINK THE SOONER THE
P. R.'S PUT DOWN, THE BETTER!"
Then bulky DARES in the ring appears,
Chucking his "castor" in'midst husky cheers.
DARES, the so-called "Champion" of his land,
Who met the great KILRAINUS hand to hand,
And at the Pelicanus strove--in vain--
The Ethiopian's onset to sustain.
Such DARES was, and such he strode along,
And drew hoarse homage from the howling throng.
His brawny breast and bulky arms he shows, }
His lifted fists around his head he throws, }
Huge caveats to the inadvertent nose. }
But DARES, who, although a sinewy brute,
Had not of late increased his old repute,
Looked scarce like one prepared for gain or loss,
And scornful of the surreptitious "cross;"
Rather the kind of cove who tackled fair
Would think more of the "corner" than "the square."
(_"Ah! bust him, yes!"_ SAYERIUS _here put in,
"He meant to tie or wrangle, not to win.
I'd like to--well, all right, I will not say:
But 'twasn't so at Farnborough in my day."_)
Next stout ENTELLUS for the strife prepares,
Strips off his ulster, and his body bares,
Composed of mighty bone and brawn he stands.
A six-foot straight, "fine fellow of his hands."
ENTELLUS, Champion of the Austral realm,
Whose sight fat DARES seemed to overwhelm.
(_"Yah!" cried_ SAYERIUS, _"brave_ HEENANUS _stood
Well over me; yes, and his grit was good.
But did I funk the Big 'Un from the fust?
No, nor when nine times I had bit the dust!"_)
They both attentive stand with eyes intent,
Their arms well up, their bodies backward bent.
One on his clamorous "Corner" most relies;
The other on his sinews and his size.
Unequal in success, they ward, they strike,
Their styles are different, but their aims alike.
Big blows are dealt; stout DARES hops around,
His pulpy sides the rattling thumps resound.
(_"He always was a fleshy 'un, yer know,"
Said brave_ SAYERIUS. _"But on yer go!"_)
Steady and straight ENTELLUS stands his ground,
Although already rowdy rows abound.
His hand and watchful eyes keep even pace,
While DARES traverses and shifts his place,
And, like a cornered rat in a big pit.
Keeps off, and doesn't like the job a bit.
(_"No, that I'll bet!" the brave_ SAYERIUS _said.
"Wish I'd been there to punch his bloomin' 'ed!"_)
More on his feet than fists the cur relies,
And on that crowded "Corner" keeps his eyes.
With straightening shots ENTELLUS threats the foe, }
But DARES dodges the descending blow, }
And back into his Corner's prompt to go. }
Where bludgeon, knuckleduster, knotted sticks,
Foul sickening blows and cruel coward kicks
Are in his interest on ENTELLUS rained
At every point that plucky boxer gained.
(_"Oh!" groaned_ SAYERIUS. _"And this sort of thing
Wos let go on, with gents around the Ring!"_)
In vain ENTELLUS gave sly DARES snuff;
DARES already felt he'd had enough;
But twenty ruffians, thralls of bets and "booze,"
Had sworn could he not win he should not lose.
DARES, you see, was "Champion" of his land,
And these were "Trojans all" you'll understand.
(_"Champion be blowed!_" SAYERIUS _said_. _"Wus luck,
They wasn't Trojans. This is British pluck!"_)
Then from the Corner fiendish howls arise,
And oaths and execrations rend the skies.
ENTELLUS stoutly to the fight returned.
Kicked, punched and mauled, his eyes with fury burned,
Disdain and conscious courage fired his breast,
And with redoubled force his foe he pressed,
Laid on with either hand like anything,
And headlong drove his rival round the Ring;
Nor stops nor stays, nor rest, nor breath allows.
Thereon the Corner raised redoubled rows,
Yelled false alarms of "Rescue!" heaved half-bricks,
And murderous missiles and unmanly kicks
Poured on ENTELLUS, whilst fat DARES slunk
Between his bullies, like a shabby skunk.
(_"Bah!" growled_ SAYERIUS. _"Fancy_ CRIBBS _or_ GULLIES
_Backing down under guard of blackguard bullies!"_)
But now the Ref., who saw the row increase,
Declared a "draw," and bade the combat cease.
(_"A draw?"_ SAYERIUS _shouted_. _"Was he drunk?
Or had he, like the rest, a fit of funk?"_)
"This," PUNCHIUS said, "ended the precious game.
In which all, save ENTELLUS, suffered shame.
SAYERIUS mine, I trust you take delight
In this description of a Champion Fight!"
"A _Fight_," SAYERIUS shouted. "Oh, get out!
It was a 'barney.' If this ruffian rout
Of cheats and 'bashers' now surround the Ring,
You'd better stop it as a shameful thing.
In JACKSON'S time, and even in my day,
It did want courage, and did mean fair play--
Most times, at least. But don't mix up _this_ muck
With tales of rough-and-tumble British pluck.
I'd like to shake ENTELLUS by the hand,
And give that DARES--wot he'd understand
Better, you bet, than being fair or "game,"
Or trying to keep up the Old Country's name!
But anyhow, if Boxing's sunk so low | 2,183.050164 |
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Produced by Roy Brown, Wiltshire, England
THE LIGHTHOUSE
By R.M.BALLANTYNE
Author of "The Coral Island" &c.
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW BOMBAY
E-Test prepared by Roy Brown
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE ROCK.
II. THE LOVERS AND THE PRESS-GANG.
III. OUR HERO OBLIGED TO GO TO SEA.
IV. THE BURGLARY.
V. THE BELL ROCK INVADED.
VI. THE CAPTAIN CHANGES HIS QUARTERS.
VII. RUBY IN DIFFICULTIES.
VIII THE SCENE CHANGES--RUBY IS VULCANIZED.
IX. STORMS AND TROUBLES.
X. THE RISING OF THE TIDE--A NARROW ESCAPE.
XI. A STORM, AND A DISMAL STATE OF THINGS ON BOARD THE
PHAROS.
XII. BELL ROCK BILLOWS--AN UNEXPECTED VISIT--A DISASTER AND A
RESCUE.
XIII. A SLEEPLESS BUT A PLEASANT NIGHT.
XIV. SOMEWHAT STATISTICAL.
XV. RUBY HAS A RISE IN LIFE, AND A FALL.
XVI. NEW ARRANGEMENTS--THE CAPTAIN'S PHILOSOPHY IN REGARD TO
PIPEOLOGY.
XVII. A MEETING WITH OLD FRIENDS, AND AN EXCURSION.
XVIII. THE BATTLE OF ARBROATH, AND OTHER WARLIKE MATTERS.
XIX. AN ADVENTURE--SECRETS REVEALED, AND A PRIZE.
XX. THE SMUGGLERS ARE "TREATED" TO GIN AND ASTONISHMENT.
XXI. THE BELL ROCK AGAIN--A DREARY NIGHT IN A STRANGE
HABITATION.
XXII. LIFE IN THE BEACON--STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.
XXIII. THE STORM.
XXIV. A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.
XXV. THE BELL ROOK IN A FOG--NARROW ESCAPE OF THE SMEATON.
XXVI. A SUDDEN AND TREMENDOUS CHANGE IN FORTUNES.
XXVII. OTHER THINGS BESIDES MURDER "WILL OUT".
XXVIII. THE LIGHTHOUSE COMPLETED--RUBY'S ESCAPE FROM TROUBLE BY A
DESPERATE VENTURE.
XXIX. THE WRECK.
XXX. OLD FRIENDS IN NEW CIRCUMSTANCES.
XXXI. MIDNIGHT CHAT IN A LANTERN.
XXXII. EVERYDAY LIFE ON THE BELL ROOK, AND OLD MEMORIES
RECALLED.
XXXIII. CONCLUSION.
THE LIGHTHOUSE
CHAPTER I
THE ROCK
Early on a summer morning, about the beginning of the nineteenth
century, two fishermen of Forfarshire wended their way to the shore,
launched their boat, and put off to sea.
One of the men was tall and ill-favoured, the other, short and
well-favoured. Both were square-built, powerful fellows, like most
men of the class to which they belonged.
It was about that calm hour of the morning which precedes sunrise,
when most living creatures are still asleep, and inanimate nature
wears, more than at other times, the semblance of repose. The sea was
like a sheet of undulating glass. A breeze had been expected, but,
in defiance of expectation, it had not come, so the boatmen were
obliged to use their oars. They used them well, however, insomuch
that the land ere long appeared like a blue line on the horizon, then
became tremulous and indistinct, and finally vanished in the mists of
morning.
The men pulled "with a will,"--as seamen pithily express in silence.
Only once during the first hour did the ill-favoured man venture a
remark. Referring to the absence of wind, | 2,183.050298 |
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Wilson's
Tales of the Borders
AND OF SCOTLAND.
HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, & IMAGINATIVE.
WITH A GLOSSARY.
REVISED BY
ALEXANDER LEIGHTON,
_One of the Original Editors and Contributors._
VOL. XX.
LONDON:
WALTER | 2,183.05416 |
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Produced by Mark C. Orton, Keith Edkins and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's note: A few obvious typographical errors have been corrected:
they are listed at the end of the text.
In this edition line numbers are displayed on every tenth line--in the
printed work they were synchronised to the pagination, with sometimes only
one number per page. Lines marked = were printed AND COUNTED as two lines.
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Thorn and eth
characters (in cited passages) are expanded to th and dh respectively. In
the main text of The Vision, the numbers of the original pages are enclosed
in curly brackets to facilitate the use of the glossary.
Project Gutenberg has the other volume of this work.
Volume II: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43661
* * * * *
Library of Old Authors.
[Illustration: Spede the plough & send us korne enough]
THE VISION AND CREED
OF
PIERS PLOUGHMAN.
EDITED,
FROM A CONTEMPORARY MANUSCRIPT,
WITH A HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION,
NOTES, AND A GLOSSARY,
BY THOMAS WRIGHT, M.A. F.S.A. &c.
Corresponding Member of the Imperial Institute of France,
Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
_SECOND AND REVISED EDITION._
LONDON:
REEVES AND TURNER, 196 STRAND.
1887.
_PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION._
It is now thirteen years since the first edition of the following text of
this important poem was published by the late Mr. Pickering, during which
time the study of our old literature and history has undergone considerable
development, and it is believed that a reprint at a more moderate price
would be acceptable to the public. Holding still the same opinion which he
has always held with regard to the superior character of the manuscript
from which this text was taken, the editor has done no more than carefully
reprint it, but, in order to make it as useful as he could, he has revised
and made additions to both the Notes and the Glossary.
The remarkable poem of The Vision of Piers Ploughman is not only so
interesting a monument of the English language and literature, but it is
also so important an illustration of the political history of our country
during the fourteenth century, that it deserves to be read far more
generally than it has been, and the editor will rejoice sincerely if he
should have contributed by this new edition to render it more popular, and
place it within the reach of a greater number of readers. Independent of
its historical and literary importance, it contains many beauties which
will fully repay the slight labour required to master its partially
obsolete language, and, as one of the purest works in the English tongue as
it existed during the century in which it was composed, it is to be hoped
that, when the time shall at length arrive when English antiquities and
English philology and literary history are at length to be made a part of
the studies in our universities and in the higher classes of our schools,
the work of the Monk of Malvern, as a link between the poetry and language
of the Anglo-Saxon and those of modern England, will be made a prominent
text-book.
THOMAS WRIGHT.
14, SYDNEY STREET, BROMPTON,
_Nov. 1855_.
_INTRODUCTION._
The History of the Middle Ages in England, as in other countries,
represents to us a series of great consecutive political movements,
coexistent with a similar series of intellectual revolutions in the mass of
the people. The vast mental development caused by the universities in the
twelfth century led the way for the struggle to obtain religious and
political liberty in the thirteenth. The numerous political songs of that
period which have escaped the hand of time, and above all the mass of
satirical ballads against the Church of Rome, which commonly go under the
name of Walter Mapes, are remarkable monuments of the intellectual history
of our forefathers. Those ballads are written in Latin; for it was the most
learned class of the community which made the first great stand against the
encroachments and corruptions of the papacy and the increasing influence of
the monks. We know that the struggle alluded to was historically
unsuccessful. The baronial wars ended in the entire destruction of the
popular leaders; but their cause did not expire at Evesham; they had laid
foundations which no storm could overthrow, not placed hastily on the
uncertain surface of popular favour, but fixed deeply in the public | 2,183.146942 |
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CANADIAN DRUGGIST.
VOL. I. TORONTO AND STRATHROY, AUGUST, 1889. NO. 2.
THE CANADIAN DRUGGIST,
5 Jordan Street, Toronto, Ont.
And Strathroy, Ont.
WILLIAM J. DYAS, Editor and Publisher.
Subscription, $1 per Year, in Advance.
Advertising Rates on Application.
The Canadian Druggist is issued on the 15th of each month, and all
matter for insertion should reach us by the 5th of the month.
All cheques or drafts, and matter intended for the editor, to be
addressed to Box 438, Strathroy, Ont.
New advertisements or changes to be addressed
CANADIAN DRUGGIST, 5 JORDAN STREET, TORONTO.
FIRST RESULTS.
In our first issue we spoke confidently of the future | 2,183.146949 |
2023-11-16 18:53:27.1321890 | 1,852 | 24 | VOL. 98, APRIL 5, 1890***
E-text prepared by Neville Allen,Malcolm Farmer, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 30492-h.htm or 30492-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30492/30492-h/30492-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30492/30492-h.zip)
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOLUME 98
APRIL 5, 1890.
MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.
JOURNALISTIC.
"_The Prisoner, who was fashionably attired, and of genteel
appearance_;" _i.e._, An ill-got-up swell-mobsman.
"_A powerful-looking fellow_;" _i.e._, An awful ruffian.
"_A rumour has reached us_"--(in the well-nigh impenetrable recesses
wherein, as journalists, we habitually conceal ourselves).
"_Nothing fresh has transpired_;" _i.e._, The local Reporter's invention
is at last exhausted.
"_The Prisoner seemed fully alive to the very serious position in which
he was placed_;" _i.e._, He occasionally wiped his mouth on his
knuckles.
"_The proceedings were kept up until an advanced hour_;" _i.e._, The
Reporter left early.
SOCIAL.
"_I'm so sorry I've forgotten to bring my Music_;" _i.e._, I'm not going
to throw away my singing on these people.
"_Dear me, this is a surprise to meet you here! I didn't, you see, know
you were in Town_;" _i.e._, By which I wish her to understand that I
hadn't seen that prominent account of her Mid-Lent dance (_for which I
had received no invitation_) that appeared in last Thursday's _Morning
Post_.
"_Never heard it recited better. Wonder you don't go on the Stage_;"
_i.e._, Then one needn't come and hear you; now one can't keep out of
your way.
FOR SHOW SUNDAY.
"_Shall you have many Pictures in this year?_" _i.e._, He'll jump for
joy if he gets one in.
"_Is your big Picture going to Burlington House or the Grosvenor?_"
_i.e._, They wouldn't have it at an East-End Free Art Show.
"_By Jove, dear boy, Burne-Jones will have to look to his laurels?_"
_i.e._, Green mist and gawky girls, as usual!
"_What I love about your pictures, dear Mr. Stodge, is their Subtle
Ideal treatment, so different, &c., &c.?_" _i.e._, 'Tisn't like anything
on earth.
"_Best thing you've done for years, my boy; and, mark my words, it'll
create a sensation!_" _i.e._, Everybody says it'll be a great go, and I
may as well be in it.
"_Entre nous, I don't think Millais' landscape is to be compared with
it?_" _i.e._, I should hope not--for MILLAIS' sake.
"_Fancy hanging him on the line, and skying you! It's too bad?_" _i.e._,
His picture is.
"_Glad you haven't gone in for mere 'pretty, pretty,' this time, old
man_;" _i.e._, It's ugly enough for a scarecrow.
"_My dear Sir, it's as mournfully impressive as a Millet_;" _i.e._, Dull
skies and dowdy peasants!
"_Well, it's something in these days to see a picture one can get a
laugh out of_;" _i.e._, Or at!
AUCTIONEERING.
"_Every Modern Convenience_;" _i.e._, Electric-bells and disconnected
drain-pipes.
"_Cheap and Commodious Flat_;" _i.e._, Seven small square rooms, with no
outlook, at about the rent of a Hyde Park mansion.
"_A Desirable Residence_;" _i.e._, To get out of.
PLATFORMULARS.
"_And thus bring to a triumphant issue the fight in which we are
engaged_;" _i.e._, Thank Heaven, I managed to get off my peroration all
right.
"_Our great Leader_;" _i.e._, "That's sure to make them cheer, and will
give me time to think."
* * * * *
[Illustration: SOCIAL ECONOMY.
_Mrs. Scrooge._ "I'M WRITING TO ASK THE BROWNS TO MEET THE JONESES HERE
AT DINNER, AND TO THE JONESES TO MEET THE BROWNS. WE OWE THEM BOTH, YOU
KNOW."
_Mr. Scrooge._ "BUT I'VE HEARD THEY'VE JUST QUARRELLED, AND DON'T
SPEAK!"
_Mrs. Scrooge._ "I KNOW. THEY'LL REFUSE, AND WE NEEDN'T GIVE A DINNER
PARTY AT ALL!"]
* * * * *
"MY CURATE."
[The _Law Times_ mentions that a photograph of a well-dressed and
good-looking gentleman has been sent to it, with the words "My
Advocate" beneath. On the back are the name and address of a
Solicitor.]
SCENE--_Drowsiham Vicarage._ Vicar _and Family discovered seated at
breakfast-table. Time--Present._
_The Vicar._ I only advertised for a Curate in last Saturday's _Church
Papers_, and already I have received more than sixty applications by the
post, all of them, apparently, from persons of the highest
respectability, whose views, too, happen to coincide entirely with my
own! Dear me! I suppose these may be called the "Clerical Unemployed."
_Elder Daughter (giddily)._ Pa! Have any of them sent photos?
_Vicar._ Yes, all of them. It seems to be the new method to inclose
_cartes-de-visite_ with testimonials.
_Younger Daughter._ Now I shall be able to fill up my Album!
_Elder Daughter (who has been running her eye over the pictures)._ This
is the pick of the lot, Pa. Take him! Such a dear! He's got an eyeglass,
and whiskers, and curly hair, and seems quite young!
_Younger Daughter (thoughtfully)._ It's a pity we can't lay in _two_
Curates while we are about it.
_Vicar._ Hem! A rather nice-looking young man, certainly. Let's see what
he says about himself. The new system saves a lot of trouble, as
candidates for posts write down their qualifications on the back of
their photographs.
_Elder Daughter (reading)._ "Views strictly orthodox." Oh, bother views!
Here's something better--"Very Musical Voice"--the _darling_! He _looks_
as if he had a musical voice. "Warranted not to go beyond fifteen
minutes in preaching." Delicious!
_Vicar's Wife._ I don't know if the parishioners will like _that_.
_Both Daughters (together)._ But _we_ shall!
_Elder Daughter (continues reading)._ "Quite content to preach only in
the afternoons. No attempts to rival Vicar's eloquence." What _does_ he
mean?
_Vicar (cordially)._ I know! I think he'll do very well. _Just_ the sort
of man I want!
_Elder Daughter._ Ha! Listen to this! "Can play the banjo, and
twenty-six games of lawn-tennis without fatigue." The pet!
_Younger Daughter._ Perfectly engaging! Oh, Pa, wire to him _at once_!
_Elder Daughter (turning pale)._ Stop! What is this? "Very steady and
respectable. _Has been engaged to be married for past three years!_"
Call _him_ engaging, indeed! No chance of it. The wretch!
_Younger Daughter._ A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing! Can't you prosecute him,
Pa?
_Vicar (meditatively)._ I might--in the Archbishop's Court. Really this
new self-recommend | 2,183.152229 |
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Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
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ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD
Or
The Captives of the Great Earthquake
BY ROY ROCKWOOD
Other titles by ROY ROCKWOOD
THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES
THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE
UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE
FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND
THROUGH SPACE TO MARS
LOST ON THE MOON
ON A TORN-AWAY WORLD
DAVE DASHAWAY, THE YOUNG AVIATOR
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDROPLANE
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP
DAVE DASHAWAY AROUND THE WORLD
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTOR CYCLES
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR POWER LAUNCH
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS IN A SUBMARINE
CONTENTS
I. SHOT INTO THE AIR!
II. MARK HANGS ON
III. THIS FLIGHT OF THE "SNOWBIRD"
IV. "WHO GOES THERE?"
V. BETWEEN TWO PERILS
VI. ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND
VII. DROPPED FROM THE SKY
VIII. PHINEAS ROEBACH, OIL HUNTER
IX. THE EARTHQUAKE
X. THE BLACK DAY
XI. THE WONDERFUL LEAP
XII. THE GEYSER
XIII. NATURE GONE MAD
XIV. ON THE WING AGAIN
XV. A PLUNGE TO THE ICE
XVI. PROFESSOR HENDERSON REVEALS THE TRUTH
XVII. ON AN ISLAND IN THE AIR
XVIII. IMPRISONED IN THE ICE
XIX. A NIGHT ATTACK
XX. THE HEROISM OF THE SHANGHAI ROOSTER
XXI. MARK ON GUARD
XXII. THE WOLF TRAIL
XXIII. THE FIGHT AT ALEUKAN
XXIV. THE FLIGHT TOWARD THE COAST
XXV. THE HERD of KADIAKS
XXVI. THE ABANDONED CITY
XXVII. THE WHALE HUNT ASHORE
XXVIII. ON THE WHALING BARK
XXIX. WHEN THE SEA ROLLED BACK
XXX. AN ENDURING MONUMENT--CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
SHOT INTO THE AIR
"Hurrah!" shouted Jack Darrow, flicking the final drops of lacquer
from the paintbrush he had been using. "That's the last stroke. She's
finished!"
"I guess we've done all we can to her before her trial trip," admitted
his chum, Mark Sampson, but in a less confident tone.
"You don't see anything wrong with her, old croaker; do you?" demanded
Jack, laughing as usual.
"'The proof of the pudding is in the eating thereof; not in chewing
the pudding bag string'," quoted Mark, still with a serious countenance.
But like Jack he stood off from the great body of the wonderful airship,
and looked the completed task over with some satisfaction. Having
emergency wings, she was also a plane. She was white all over and her
name was the _Snowbird_. Jack and Mark had spent most of their time
during this vacation from their college in building this flying machine,
which was veritably an up-to-the-minute aerial vehicle, built for both
speed and carrying capacity.
The hangar in which the machine had been built was connected with
Professor Amos Henderson's laboratory and workshop, hidden away on a
lonely point on the seacoast, about ten miles from the town of Easton,
Maine. At this spot had been built many wonderful things--mainly the
inventions of the boys' friend and protector, Professor Henderson; but
the _Snowbird_, upon which Jack and Mark now gazed so proudly, was
altogether the boys' own work.
The sliding door of the hangar opened just behind the two boys and a
black face appeared.
"Is eeder ob you boys seen ma Shanghai rooster?" queried the black
man, plaintively. "I suah can't fin' him nowhars."
"What did you let him out of his coop for?" demanded Mark. "You're
always bothering us about that rooster, Washington. He is as elusive
as the Fourth Dimension."
"I dunno wot dat fourth condension is, Massa Mark; but dat rooster is
suah some conclusive. When I lets him out fo' an airin' he hikes right
straight fo' some farmer's hen-yard, an' den I haster hunt fo' him."
"When you see him starting on his rambles, Wash, why don't you call
him back?" demanded Jack Darrow, chuckling. "If I did, Massa Jack,
I'spect he wouldn't know I was a-hollerin' fo' him."
"How's that? Doesn't he know his name?"
"I don't fo' suah know wedder he does or not," returned the darkey,
scratching his head "Ye see, it's a suah 'nuff longitudinous name, an'
I dunno wedder he remembers it all, or not."
"He's got a bad memory; has he?" said Mark, turning to smile at
Washington White, too, for Professor Henderson's old servant usually
afforded the boys much amusement.
"Dunno 'bout his memory," grunted Wash; "he's gotter good forgettery,
suah 'nuff. Leastways, when he starts off on one o' dese
perambulationaries ob his, he fergits ter come back."
"Let's see," said Jack, nudging his chum, "what _is_ that
longitudinous' name which has been hitched onto that wonderful bird,
Wash? I know it begins with the discovery of America and wanders down
through the ages to the present day; but a part of it has slipped my
memory--or, perhaps I should say, 'forgettery'."
With a perfectly serious face the darkey declaimed:
"Christopher Columbus Amerigo Vespucci
George Washington Abraham Lincoln Ulysses
Grant Garibaldi Thomas Edison Guglielmo Marconi
Butts."
"For goodness sake! Will you listen to that!" gasped Mark, while Jack
went off into a roar of laughter.
"Don't--don't it make your jaw ache to say it, Wash?" cried the older
lad when he could speak.
"Not a-tall! not a-tall!" rejoined the darkey, shaking his woolly head.
"I has practised all ma life speakin' de berry longest words in de
English language--"
"And mispronouncing them," giggled Jack.
"Mebbe, Massa Jack, mebbe!" agreed Washington, briskly. "But de copy
book say dat it is better to have tried an' failed dan nebber to have
tried at all."
"And did you ever try calling the rooster back, when he starts to play
truant, with all that mouthful of words?" queried the amused Mark.
"Yes, indeedy," said Washington, seriously.
"Don't he mind, then?"
"I should think he'd be struck motionless in his tracks," chuckled
Jack.
"No, sah," said Washington. "Dat's de only fault I kin fin' with dat
name--it don't 'pear to stop him. An' befo' I kin git it all out he's
ginerally out ob sight!"
That sent both boys off into another paroxysm of laughter. Meanwhile
the darkey had come into the great shed and was slowly walking around
the flying machine. "What do you think of her, Wash, now that she's
finished?" asked Mark.
"Is she done done?" queried the darkey, wonderingly.
"She certainly is," agreed Jack.
"De ch | 2,183.153454 |
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CAREERS OF DANGER AND DARING
[Illustration: "DIVERS AT WORK NEAR A WRECK."]
CAREERS OF DANGER AND DARING
BY
CLEVELAND MOFFETT
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
JAY HAMBIDGE AND GEORGE VARIAN
AND OTHERS
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1903
Copyright, 1900, 1901, by
THE CENTURY CO.
Copyright, 1898, by
S. S. MCCLURE CO.
Copyright, 1901, by
CLEVELAND MOFFETT.
* * * * *
_Published October, 1901_
THE DEVINNE PRESS.
Dedication
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO
MY TWO LITTLE CHILDREN
ANNE EUNICE
AND
CLEVELAND LUSK
IN LOVE AND THE HOPE THAT
IT MAY HELP THEM, AS THEY
GROW UP, TO FORM HABITS OF
COURAGE AND USEFULNESS.
AUGUST, 1901. C. M.
CONTENTS
THE STEEPLE-CLIMBER PAGE
I In Which We Make the Acquaintance of "Steeple Bob" 3
II How They Blew Off the Top of a Steeple with Dynamite 14
III The Greatest Danger to a Steeple-Climber Lies in Being
Startled 21
IV Experience of an Amateur Climbing to a Steeple-top 29
THE DEEP-SEA DIVER
I Some First Impressions of Men Who Go Down Under the Sea 40
II A Visit to the Burying-ground of Wrecks 54
III An Afternoon of Story-telling on the Steam-pump
_Dunderberg_ 63
IV Wherein We Meet Sharks, Alligators, and a Very Tough
Problem in Wrecking 71
V In Which the Author Puts on a Diving-suit and Goes
Down to a Wreck 78
THE BALLOONIST
I Here We Visit a Balloon Farm and Talk with the Man
Who Runs It 87
II Which Treats of Experiments in Steering Balloons 99
III Something About Explosive Balloons and the Wonders of
Hydrogen 110
IV The Story of a Boy Who Ran Away in a Big Balloon 117
THE PILOT
I Some Stirring Tales of the Sea Heard at the Pilot's
Club 130
II Which Shows How Pilots on the St. Lawrence Fight the
Ice-floes 141
III Now We Watch the Men Who Shoot the Furious Rapids at
Lachine 148
IV What Canadian Pilots Did in the Cataracts of the Nile 160
THE BRIDGE-BUILDER
I In Which We Visit a Place of Unusual Fears and Perils 173
II The Experience of Two Novices in Balancing Along
Narrow Girders and Watching the "Traveler" Gang 182
III Which Tells of Men Who Have Fallen from Great Heights 197
THE FIREMAN
I Wherein We See a Sleeping Village Swept by a River of
Fire and the Burning of a Famous Hotel 209
II What Bill Brown Did in the Great Tarrant Fire 222
III Here We Visit an Engine-house at Night and Chat with
the Driver 233
IV Famous Rescues by New York Fire-boats from Red-hot
Ocean Liners 241
THE AERIAL ACROBAT
I Showing That it Takes More Than Muscle and Skill to
Work on the High Bars 255
II About Double and Triple Somersaults and the Danger of
Losing Heart 264
III In Which the Author Tries His Hand with Professional
Trapeze Performers 272
IV Some Remarkable Falls and Narrow Escapes of Famous
Athletes 284
THE WILD-BEAST TAMER
I We Visit a Queer Resort for Circus People and Talk
with a Trainer of Elephants 293
II Methods of Lion-tamers and the Story of Brutus's
Attack on Mr. Bostock 304
III Bonavita Describes His Fight with Seven Lions and
George Arstingstall Tells How He Conquered a Mad
Elephant 317
IV We See Mr. Bostock Matched Against a Wild Lion and
Hear About the Tiger Rajah 328
V We Spend a Night Among Wild Beasts and See the
Dangerous Lion Black Prince 339
THE DYNAMITE WORKER
I The Story of Some Millionaire Heroes and the World's
Greatest Powder Explosion 348
II We Visit a Dynamite-factory and Meet a Man Who Thinks
Courage is an Accident 358
III How Joshua Plumstead Stuck to His Nitro-Glycerin-Vat
in an Explosion and Saved the Works 367
THE LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEER
I How it Feels to Ride at Night on a Locomotive Going
Ninety Miles an Hour 377
II We Pick Up Some Engine Lore and Hear About the Death
of Giddings 388
III Some Memories of the Great Record-breaking Run from
Chicago to Buffalo 395
IV We Hear Some Thrilling Stories at a Round-house and
Reach the End of the Book 406
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
About one half the chapters in this book appeared
serially in "St. Nicholas Magazine," the other
half in the "New York Herald," and two chapters on
the Locomotive Engineer, and one on the Wild-Beast
Tamer appeared in "McClure's Magazine." Thanks are
extended to all these for permission to republish.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
DIVERS AT WORK NEAR A WRECK _Frontispiece_
"I HAD TO CRAWL AROUND AND OVER IT" 5
AT THE TOP OF ST. PAUL'S, NEW YORK 10
"THEN MY PARTNER STOOD ON MY SHOULDERS" 12
"SOMETIMES IN HARD PLACES YOU HAVE TO THROW YOUR NOOSES
AROUND THE SHAFT" 16
PICTURE OF THE FALLING STEEPLE, PHOTOGRAPHED JUST AFTER
THE DYNAMITE EXPLODED. THE FALLING SECTION WAS 35
FEET IN LENGTH AND WEIGHED 35 TONS 20
LOOKING FROM THE GROUND UPWARD AT ST. PAUL'S SPIRE,
BROADWAY, NEW YORK CITY 25
GILDING A CHURCH CROSS, ABOVE NEW YORK CITY 30
HOW THE STEEPLE-CLIMBER GOES UP A FLAGPOLE 37
PORTRAIT OF A DIVER. DRAWN FROM LIFE 43
"THE DIVER'S HELMET SHOWED LIKE THE BACK OF A BIG TURTLE" 46
DIVER STANDING ON SUNKEN COAL BARGE 51
THE MEN AT WORK WITH THE AIR-PUMP 57
"I STAYED DOWN UNTIL THAT CHAIN WAS UNDER THE SHAFT" 60
THE MAN WHO ATTENDS TO THE DIVER'S SIGNALS 65
A DIVER AT WORK ON A STEAMBOAT'S | 2,183.555564 |
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Transcriber’s Notes:
The spelling, punctuation and hyphenation are as the original except
for apparent typographical errors, which have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted _thus_.
Bold text is denoted =thus=.
Bold, sans serif text, representing physical appearance e.g., of a
‘Vee’ shaped thread is denoted thus ^V^.
Subscripts are denoted thus _{1}.
Some page numbers printed in the original ‘Index to Part One’ do not
appear in the body of the book. The transcriber has endeavoured to
make assumptions as to the most appropriate anchor locations. The
appearance of the original index has not been changed.
Examples (possibly relocated, by the author, into Part Two) are:
=Air=, des., composition of, 15, 16
=Air pump=, 13
=Nitrogen=, what part of air, 15
=Oxygen=, what part of air, 15
=Value of Reidler belt-driven pump=, ills. and des., 238-240
changed in the Index to:-
=Valve of Riedler belt-driven pump=, ills. and des., 238-240
All references to ‘Reidler’ pumps have been corrected to ‘Riedler’
(Alois Riedler, 1850-1936, Austrian professor of engineering).
PUMPS
AND
HYDRAULICS.
IN TWO PARTS.
Part One.
“_There are many fingers pointing to the value of a training in
science, as the one thing needful to make the man, who shall rise above
his fellows._”—FRANK ALLEN.
[Illustration: Elephant]
“_The motto marked upon our foreheads, written upon our door-posts,
channeled in the earth, and wafted upon the waves is and must be,
‘Labour is honorable | 2,183.648396 |
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McDaniel and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The following inconsistencies were noted and retained:
fly-catcher and flycatcher
bottom lands and bottom-lands
Kestrel and Kestril
Chicasaw and Chickasaw
Redwings and Red-wings
Black-and-yellow Warbler and Black and Yellow Warbler
Chuckwill's Widow and Chuck-Will's Widow
Columbian Jay and Columbia Jay
Shawaney and Shawanee
Falco Haliaetos, Haliäetos, Haliaetus and Haliaëtus
Pont Chartrain and Pontchartrain
Genessee and Gennessee
Musquito and moschetto
Skuylkill and Schuylkil
The following are possible errors, but retained:
Massachusets
napsack
pease
pannel
scissars
"flat and juicy" should possibly be "fat and juicy"
"wet cloths" should possibly be "wet clothes"
Gelseminum should possibly be Gelsemium
Psittaccus should possibly be Psittacus
Gadwal Duck should possibly be Gadwall Duck
Anona should possibly be Annona
The plate number of the Adult Female Great Horned Owl should
possibly be LXI.
Several of the words in the sections in French are unaccented where
modern French uses accents. They have been left as printed.
ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.
ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY,
OR AN ACCOUNT OF THE HABITS OF THE
BIRDS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA;
ACCOMPANIED BY DESCRIPTIONS OF THE OBJECTS REPRESENTED
IN THE WORK ENTITLED
THE BIRDS OF AMERICA,
AND INTERSPERSED WITH DELINEATIONS OF AMERICAN
SCENERY AND MANNERS.
BY JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, F.R.SS.L.& E.
FELLOW OF THE LINNEAN AND ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETIES OF LONDON; MEMBER
OF THE LYCEUM AND LINNEAN SOCIETY OF NEW YORK, OF THE NATURAL HISTORY
SOCIETY OF PARIS, THE WERNERIAN NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH;
HONORARY MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF NATURAL HISTORY OF MANCHESTER, AND
OF THE SCOTTISH ACADEMY OF PAINTING, ARCHITECTURE, AND SCULPTURE, &C.
EDINBURGH:
ADAM BLACK, 55. NORTH BRIDGE, EDINBURGH;
R. HAVELL JUN., ENGRAVER, 77. OXFORD STREET, AND LONGMAN, REES, BROWN,
& GREEN, LONDON; GEORGE SMITH, TITHEBARR STREET, LIVERPOOL; T. SOWLER,
MANCHESTER; MRS ROBINSON, LEEDS; E. CHARNLEY, NEWCASTLE; POOL & BOOTH,
CHESTER; AND BEILBY, KNOTT, & BEILBY, BIRMINGHAM.
MDCCCXXXI.
NEILL & CO. PRINTERS,
Old Fishmarket, Edinburgh.
INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS.
KIND READER,—Should you derive from the perusal of the following pages,
which I have written with no other wish than that of procuring one
favourable thought from you, a portion of the pleasure which I have felt
in collecting the materials for their composition, my gratification will
be ample, and the compensation for all my labours will be more than,
perhaps, I have a right to expect from an individual to whom I am as
yet unknown, and to whom I must therefore, in the very outset, present
some account of my life, and of the motives which have influenced me in
thus bringing you into contact with an American Woodsman.
* * * * *
I received life and light in the New World. When I had hardly yet
learned to walk, and to articulate those first words always so endearing
to parents, the productions of Nature that lay spread all around,
were constantly pointed out to me. They soon became my playmates; and
before my ideas were sufficiently formed to enable me to estimate the
difference between the azure tints of the sky, and the emerald hue of
the bright foliage, I felt that an intimacy with them, not consisting
of friendship merely, but bordering on phrenzy, must accompany my steps
through life;—and now, more than ever, am I persuaded of the power of
those early impressions. They laid such hold upon me, that, when removed
from the woods, the prairies, and the brooks, or shut up from the view of
the wide Atlantic, I experienced none of those pleasures most congenial
to my mind. None but aërial companions suited my fancy. No roof seemed
so secure to me as that formed of the dense foliage under which the
feathered tribes were seen to resort, or the caves and fissures of the
massy rocks to which the dark-winged Cormorant and the Curlew retired to
rest, or to protect themselves from the fury of the tempest. My father
generally accompanied my steps, procured birds and flowers for me with
great eagerness,—pointed out the elegant movements of the former, the
beauty and softness of their plumage, the manifestations of their pleasure
or sense of danger,—and the always perfect forms and splendid attire of
the latter. My valued preceptor would then speak of the departure and
return of birds with the seasons, would describe their haunts, and, more
wonderful than all, their change of livery; thus exciting me to study
them, and to raise my mind toward their great Creator.
A vivid pleasure shone upon those days of my early youth, attended with a
calmness of feeling, that seldom failed to rivet my attention for hours,
whilst I gazed in ecstacy upon the pearly and shining eggs, as they lay
imbedded in the softest down, or among dried leaves and twigs, or were
exposed upon the burning sand or weather-beaten rock of our Atlantic
shores. I was taught to look upon them as flowers yet in the bud. I
watched their opening, to see how Nature had provided each different
species with eyes, either open at birth, or closed for some time after;
to trace the slow progress of the young birds toward perfection, or
admire the celerity with which some of them, while yet unfledged, removed
themselves from danger to security.
I grew up, and my wishes grew with my form. These wishes, kind reader,
were for the entire possession of all that I saw. I was fervently desirous
of becoming acquainted with nature. For many years, however, I was sadly
disappointed, and for ever, doubtless, must I have desires that cannot
be gratified. The moment a bird was dead, however beautiful it had been
when in life, the pleasure arising from the possession of it became
blunted; and although the greatest cares were bestowed on endeavours to
preserve the appearance of nature, I looked upon its vesture as more than
sullied, as requiring constant attention and repeated mendings, while,
after all, it could no longer be said to be fresh from the hands of its
Maker. I wished to possess all the productions of nature, but I wished
life with them. This was impossible. Then what was to be done? I turned
to my father, and made known to him my disappointment and anxiety. He
produced a book of _Illustrations_. A new life ran in my veins. I turned
over the leaves with avidity; and although what I saw was not what I
longed for, it gave me a desire to copy nature. To Nature I went, and
| 2,183.65056 |
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public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital
Libraries.)
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Greek text has been replaced by a transliteration and indicated by
[Grk:...]. In "Constantine and Arete" the same transliteration scheme
has been used for modern Greek text as is customary for ancient Greek.
2. Footnotes have been relocated following the paragraph or section
where the anchor occurs. Footnote anchors are in the form [A], [B] etc.
3. Linenotes have been grouped at the end of each ballad. Linenote
anchors in the form [L##] have been added to the text (they are not in
the original but alert the reader to the presence of a note referring to
line number ##). Ballad line numbers have been regularised to multiples
of five and re-positioned or added where necessary.
4. [z] has been used to represent the yogh character.
5. Italic typeface is represented by _underscores_.
6. Archaic, unusual and inconsistent spelling or punctuation has
generally been retained as in the original. Where changes have been made
to the text these are listed in Transcriber's Notes at the end of the
book.
* * * * *
ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH
BALLADS.
EDITED BY
FRANCIS JAMES CHILD.
Sum bethe of wer, and sum of wo,
Sum of joie and mirthe also;
And sum of trecherie and of gile,
Of old aventours that fel while;
And sum of bourdes and ribaudy;
And many ther beth of fairy;
Of all thinges that men seth;--
Maist o love forsothe thai beth.
_Lay le Freine._
VOLUME I.
BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY.
M.DCCC.LX.
* * * * *
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857,
by LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of
the District Court of Massachusetts.
RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY
H.O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME FIRST.
Page
PREFACE vii
List of Collections of Ballads and Songs xiii
BOOK I.
1. The Boy and the Mantle 3
2. The Horn of King Arthur 17
3. The Marriage of Sir Gawaine 28
4. King Arthur's Death 40
5. The Legend of King Arthur 50
6. Sir Lancelot du Lake 55
7. The Legend of Sir Guy 61
8. St. George and the Dragon 69
9. The Seven Champions of Christendom 83
10a. Thomas of Ersseldoune 95
10b. Thomas the Rhymer 109
11. The Young Tamlane 114
12. The Wee Wee Man 126
13. The Elfin Knight 128
14a. The Broomfield Hill 131
14b. Lord John 134
15a. Kempion 137
15b. Kemp Owyne 143
16. King Henry 147
17a. Cospatrick 152
17b. Bothwell 158
18. Willie's Ladye 162
19. Alison Gross 168
20. The Earl of Mar's Daughter 171
21a. Young Akin 179
21b. Young Hastings | 2,183.746544 |
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- Robarts Library and the Online Distributed Proofreading
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images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
THE
PROPHECIES
OF THE
BRAHAN SEER
(COINNEACH ODHAR FIOSAICHE).
BY
ALEXANDER MACKENZIE, F.S.A. SCOT.,
EDITOR OF THE “CELTIC MAGAZINE”; AUTHOR OF “THE HISTORY OF THE
MACKENZIES,” “THE HISTORY OF THE MACDONALDS AND LORDS OF THE
ISLES,” ETC., ETC.
Fourth Edition—Much Enlarged.
WITH AN
APPENDIX ON THE SUPERSTITION OF
THE HIGHLANDERS,
BY
THE REV. ALEXANDER MACGREGOR, M.A.
INVERNESS:
A. & W. MACKENZIE, “CELTIC MAGAZINE” OFFICE.
1888.
THE ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS:
JOHN THOMSON AND J. F. THOMSON, M.A.
DEDICATION TO FIRST EDITION.
[Illustration]
TO MY REVERED FRIEND, THE REV. ALEXANDER MACGREGOR, M.A.,
Of the West Church, Inverness, as a humble tribute of my admiration of
his many virtues, his genial nature, and his manly Celtic spirit. He
has kept alive the smouldering embers of our Celtic Literature for half
a century by his contributions, under the signature of “Sgiathanach,”
“Alastair Ruadh,” and others, to the _Teachdaire Gaidhealach_, _Cuairtear
nan Gleann_, _Fear Tathaich nan Beann_, _An Gaidheal_, _The Highlander_;
and, latterly, his varied and interesting articles in the _Celtic
Magazine_ have done much to secure to that Periodical its present, and
rapidly increasing, popularity. He has now the pleasing satisfaction,
in his ripe and mellow old age, of seeing the embers, which he so long
and so carefully fostered, shining forth in the full blaze of a general
admiration of the long despised and ignored Literature of his countrymen;
and to him no small share of the honour is due.
That he may yet live many years in the enjoyment of health and honour, is
the sincere desire of many a Highlander, and of none more so, than of his
sincere friend,
ALEXANDER MACKENZIE.
INVERNESS, _May, 1877_.
PREFACE.
[Illustration]
The Second Edition of the “Prophecies” has long been out of print, stray
copies of it selling at more than double the published price. We now
place another edition, considerably extended, and much improved in every
respect, at the disposal of the public, at a lower price.
Fifty Large paper copies are thrown off, printed on thick Crown Quarto,
giving a handsome margin, and making altogether a handsome unique
volume for the Library, or the Drawing-room table, of a work which the
_Scotsman_, and all the press of the country, “recommended to the lovers
of the marvellous as a sweet morsel”.
On the 19th of October, 1881, the author of the Appendix on “The
Superstition of the Highlanders” passed over the majority, regretted and
loved by all who knew him.
A. M.
INVERNESS, _June, 1882_.
CONTENTS.
[Illustration]
PAGE.
DEDICATION iii
PREFACE v
CONTENTS vii
GENERAL INTRODUCTION—How Kenneth became a Seer—Various Versions 1
PROPHECIES WHICH MIGHT BE ATTRIBUTED TO NATURAL SHREWDNESS 9
PROPHECIES UNFULFILLED 13
PROPHECIES AS TO THE FULFILMENT OF WHICH THERE IS A DOUBT 24
PROPHECIES WHOLLY OR PARTLY FULFILLED 28
SKETCH OF THE FAMILY OF SEAFORTH 61
SEAFORTH’S DOOM 68
SEAFORTH’S DREAM 71
THE SEER’S DEATH 77
FULFILMENT OF THE SEAFORTH PROPHECY 82
APPENDIX—
General Superstition 95
Druidism 100
Fairies 104
Witchcraft 112
Second Sight 117
Smaller Superstitions 125
New-Year Customs 134
Easter Customs 135
May-day Customs 135
Hallowe’en 136
Sacred Wells and Lochs 147
[Illustration]
THE PROPHECIES OF THE BRAHAN SEER: COINNEACH ODHAR FIOSAICHE.
The gift of prophecy, second-sight, or “Taibh-searachd,” claimed for
and believed by many to have been possessed, in an eminent degree, by
Coinneach Odhar, the Brahan Seer, is one, the belief in which scientific
men and others of the present day accept as unmistakable signs of
looming, if not of actual insanity. We all are, or would be considered,
scientific in these days. It will, therefore, scarcely be deemed prudent
for any one who wishes to lay claim to the slightest modicum of common
sense, to say nothing of an acquaintance with the elementary principles
of science, to commit to paper his ideas on such a subject, unless he
is prepared, in doing so, to follow the common horde in their all but
universal scepticism.
Without committing ourselves to any specific faith on the subject,
however difficult it may be to explain away what follows on strictly
scientific grounds, we shall place before the reader the extraordinary
predictions of the Brahan Seer. We have had slight experiences of our
own, which we would hesitate to dignify by the name of second-sight. It
is not, however, with our own experiences that we have at present to do,
but with the “Prophecies” of Coinneach Odhar Fiosaiche. He is beyond
comparison the most distinguished of all our Highland Seers, and his
prophecies have been known throughout the whole country for more than two
centuries. The popular faith in them has been, and still continues to be,
strong and wide-spread. Sir Walter Scott, Sir Humphrey Davy, Mr. Morrit,
Lockhart, and other eminent contemporaries of the “Last of the Seaforths”
firmly believed in them. Many of them were well known, and recited from
generation to generation, centuries before they were fulfilled. Some of
them have been fulfilled in our own day, and many are still unfulfilled.
Not so much with the view of protecting ourselves from the charge of a
belief in such superstitious folly (for we would hesitate to acknowledge
any such belief), but as a slight palliation for obtruding such nonsense
on the public, we may point out, by the way, that the sacred writers—who
are now believed by many of the would-be-considered-wise to have been
behind the age, and not near so wise and far-seeing as we are—believed
in second-sight, witchcraft, and other visions of a supernatural kind.
But then we shall be told by our scientific friends that the Bible
itself is becoming obsolete, and that it has already served its turn;
being only suited for an unenlightened age in which men like Shakspere,
Milton, Newton, Bacon, and such unscientific men could be considered
distinguished. The truth is that on more important topics than the
one we are now considering, the Bible is laid aside by many of our
would-be-scientific lights, whenever it treats of anything beyond the
puny comprehension of the minds and intellectual vision of these
omniscient gentlemen. We have all grown so scientific that the mere
idea of supposing anything possible which is beyond the intellectual
grasp of the scientific enquirer cannot be entertained, although even
he must admit, that in many cases, the greatest men in science, and the
mightiest intellects, find it impossible to understand or explain away
many things as to the existence of which they have no possible doubt. We
even find the clergy slightly inconsistent in questions of this kind.
They solemnly desire to impress us with the fact that ministering spirits
hover about the couches and apartments in which the dying Christian is
drawing near the close of his existence, and preparing to throw off his
mortal coil; but were we to suggest the possibility of any mere human
being, in any conceivable manner having had indications of the presence
of these ghostly visitors, or discovering any signs or premonitions of
the early departure of a relative or of an intimate friend, our heathen
ideas and devious wanderings from the safe channel of clerical orthodoxy
and consistent inconsistency, would be howled against, and paraded before
the faithful as the grossest superstition, with an enthusiasm and relish
possible only to a strait-laced ecclesiastic. Clerical inconsistency is,
however, not our present theme.
Many able men have written on the Second-sight, and to some of them we
shall refer in the following pages; meanwhile our purpose is to place
before the reader the Prophecies of the Brahan Seer, as far as we have
been able to procure them. We are informed that a considerable collection
of them has been made by the late Alexander Cameron of Lochmaddy, author
of the “History and Traditions of the Isle of Skye,” but we were unable
to discover into whose possession the manuscript found its way; we hope,
however, that this reference may bring it to light.
Kenneth Mackenzie, better known as Coinneach Odhar, the Brahan Seer
(according to Mr. Maclennan), was born at Baile-na-Cille, in the Parish
of Uig and Island of Lews, about the beginning of the seventeenth
century. Nothing particular is recorded of his early life, but when he
had just entered his teens, he received a stone in the following manner,
by which he could reveal the future destiny of man:—While his mother
was one evening tending her cattle in a summer shealing on the side
of a ridge called Cnoceothail, which overlooks the burying-ground of
Baile-na-Cille, in Uig, she saw, about the still hour of midnight, the
whole of the graves in the churchyard opening, and a vast multitude of
people of every age, from the newly born babe to the grey-haired sage,
rising from their graves, and going away in every conceivable direction.
In about an hour they began to return, and were all soon after back
in their graves, which closed upon them as before. But, on scanning
the burying-place more closely, Kenneth’s mother observed one grave,
near the side, still open. Being a courageous woman, she determined to
ascertain the cause of this singular circumstance, so, hastening to the
grave, and placing her “cuigeal” (distaff) athwart its mouth (for she
had heard it said that the spirit could not enter the grave again while
that instrument was upon it), she watched the result. She had not to
wait long, for in a minute or two she noticed a fair lady coming in the
direction of the churchyard, rushing through the air, from the north. On
her arrival, the fair one addressed her thus—“Lift thy distaff from off
my grave, and let me enter my dwelling of the dead.” “I shall do so,”
answered the other, “when you explain to me what detained you so long
after your neighbours.” “That you shall soon hear,” the ghost replied;
“My journey was much longer than theirs—I had to go all the way to
Norway.” She then addressed her:—“I am a daughter of the King of Norway;
I was drowned while bathing in that country; my body was found on the
beach close to where we now stand, and I was interred in this grave.
In remembrance of me, and as a small reward for your intrepidity and
courage, I shall possess you of a valuable secret—go and find in yonder
lake a small round blue stone, which give to your son, Kenneth, who by
it shall reveal future events.” She did as requested, found the stone,
and gave it to her son, Kenneth. No sooner had he thus received the gift
of divination than his fame spread far and wide. He was sought after by
the gentry throughout the length and breadth of the land, and no special
assembly of theirs was complete unless Coinneach Odhar was amongst them.
Being born on the lands of Seaforth, in the Lews, he was more associated
with that family than with any other in the country, and he latterly
removed to the neighbourhood of Loch Ussie, on the Brahan estate, where
he worked as a common labourer on a neighbouring farm. He was very shrewd
and clear-headed, for one in his menial position; was always ready with
a smart answer, and if any attempted to raise the laugh at his expense,
seldom or ever did he fail to turn it against his tormentors.
There are various other versions of the manner in which he became
possessed of the power of divination. According to one—His mistress,
the farmer’s wife, was unusually exacting with him, and he, in return,
continually teased, and, on many occasions, expended much of his natural
wit upon her, much to her annoyance and chagrin. Latterly, his conduct
became so unbearable that she decided upon disposing of him in a manner
which would save her any future annoyance. On one occasion, his master
having sent him away to cut peats, which in those days were, as they
now are in more remote districts, the common article of fuel, it was
necessary to send him his dinner, he being too far from the house to come
home to his meals, and the farmer’s wife so far carried out her intention
of destroying him, that she poisoned his dinner. It was somewhat late
in arriving, and the future prophet feeling exhausted from his honest
exertions in his masters interest and from want of food, lay down on the
heath and fell into a heavy slumber. In this position he was suddenly
awakened by feeling something cold in his breast; which on examination
he found to be a small white stone, with a hole through the centre. He
looked through it, when a vision appeared to him which revealed the
treachery and diabolical intention of his mistress. To test the truth
of the vision, he gave the dinner intended for himself to his faithful
collie; the poor brute writhed, and died soon after in the greatest agony.
The following version is supplied by Mr. Macintyre, teacher,
Arpafeelie:—Although the various accounts as to the manner in which
Coinneach Odhar became gifted with second-sight differ in some respects,
yet they generally agree in this, that it was acquired while he was
engaged in the humble occupation of cutting peats or divots, which
were in his day, and still are in many places, used as fuel throughout
the Highlands of Scotland. On the occasion referred to, being somewhat
fatigued, he lay down, resting his head upon a little knoll, and waited
the arrival of his wife with his dinner, whereupon he fell fast asleep.
On awaking, he felt something hard under his head, and examining the
cause of the uneasiness, discovered a small round stone with a hole
through the middle. He picked it up, and looking through it, saw by the
aid of this prophetic stone that his wife was coming to him with a dinner
consisting of sowans and milk, polluted, though unknown to her, in a
manner which, as well as several other particulars connected with it, we
forbear to mention. But Coinneach found that though this stone was the
means by which a supernatural power had been conferred upon him, it had,
on its very first application, deprived him of the sight of that eye with
which he looked through it, and he continued ever afterwards _cam_, or
blind of an eye.
It would appear from this account that the intended murderer made use of
the Seer’s wife to convey the poison to her own husband, thus adding to
her diabolical and murderous intention, by making her who would feel the
loss the keenest, the medium by which her husband was to lose his life.
Hugh Miller, in his “Scenes and Legends in the North of Scotland,”
says:—When serving as a field labourer with a wealthy clansman who
resided somewhere near Brahan Castle, he made himself so formidable to
the clansman’s wife by his shrewd, sarcastic humour, that she resolved
on destroying him by poison. With this design, she mixed a preparation
of noxious herbs with his food, when he was one day employed in digging
turf in a solitary morass, and brought it to him in a pitcher. She found
him lying asleep on one of those conical fairy hillocks which abound in
some parts of the Highlands, and her courage failing her, instead of
awaking him, she set down the pitcher by his side and returned home. He
woke shortly after, and, seeing the food, would have begun his repast,
but feeling something press heavily against his heart, he opened his
waistcoat and found a beautiful smooth stone, resembling a pearl, but
much larger, which had apparently been dropped into his breast while
he slept. He gazed at it in admiration, and became conscious as he
gazed, that a strange faculty of seeing the future as distinctly as the
present, and men’s real designs and motives as clearly as their actions,
was miraculously imparted to him; and it is well for him that he should
become so knowing at such a crisis, for the first secret he became
acquainted with was that of the treachery practised against him by his
mistress.
We have thus several accounts of the manner in which our prophet obtained
possession of his remarkable stone, white or blue, with or without a
hole through its centre, it matters little; that he did obtain it, we
must assume to be beyond question; but it is a matter for consideration,
and indeed open to considerable doubt, whether it had any real prophetic
virtue. If Kenneth was really | 2,183.749105 |
2023-11-16 18:53:28.5335500 | 315 | 20 |
Produced by V. L. Simpson, Barbara Kosker 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.)
HISTORIC HIGHWAYS OF AMERICA
VOLUME 15
[Illustration: General Roy Stone
(_Father of the good-roads movement in the United States_)]
HISTORIC HIGHWAYS OF AMERICA
VOLUME 15
The Future of Road-making in America
A Symposium
BY
ARCHER BUTLER HULBERT
and others
_With Illustrations_
[Illustration]
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY
CLEVELAND, OHIO
1905
COPYRIGHT, 1905
BY
THE ARTHUR H. CLARK COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE 11
I. THE FUTURE OF ROAD-MAKING IN AMERICA 15
II. GOVERNMENT COOPERATION IN OBJECT-LESSON ROAD WORK 67
III. GOOD ROADS FOR FARMERS 81
IV. THE SELECTION OF MATERIALS FOR MACADAM ROADS 170
V. STONE ROADS IN NEW JERSEY 190
ILLUSTRATIONS
I. PORTRAIT OF GENERAL ROY STONE
(father of the good-roads movement
in the United States | 2,184.55359 |
2023-11-16 18:53:28.5336120 | 3,807 | 11 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: He could picture in the next box Cydonia's golden head
at just the same angle and in between the narrow velvet curtains barely
separating the pair. _See page 93_.]
THE MAN WITH
THE DOUBLE HEART
BY
MURIEL HINE
(MRS. SIDNEY COXON)
LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY
TORONTO: BELL & COCKBURN : : MCMXIV
COPYRIGHT, 1914
BY JOHN LANE COMPANY
J. J. Little & Ives Company
New York, U. S. A.
TO
MY MOTHER
Some starlit garden grey with dew
Some chamber flushed with wine and fire
What matters where, so I and you
Are worthy our desire?
--_W. L. Henley_.
THE MAN WITH
THE DOUBLE HEART
PART I
"Flower o' the broom
Take away love and our earth is a tomb!"
--_R. Browning_.
CHAPTER I
The hour was close on midday, but the lamps in Cavendish Square shone
with a blurred light through the unnatural gloom.
The fog, pouring down from Regent's Park above, was wedged tight in
Harley Street like a wad of dirty wool, but in the open space fronting
Harcourt House it found room to expand and took on spectral shape; dim
forms with floating locks that clung to the stunted trees and,
shuddering, pressed against the high London buildings which faded away
indistinctly into the blackened sky.
From thence ragged pennons went busily fluttering South to be caught in
the draught of the traffic in noisy Oxford Street, where hoarse and
confusing cries were blent with the rumble of wheels in all the
pandemonium of man at war with the elements.
The air was raw and sooty, difficult to breathe, and McTaggart, already
irritable with the nervous tension due to his approaching interview,
his throat dry, his eyes smarting as he peered at the wide crossing,
started violently as the horn of an unseen motor sounded unpleasantly
near at hand.
"Confound the man!" he said, in apology to himself and stepped back
quickly onto the narrow path as a shapeless monster with eyes of flame
swung past, foiled of its prey.
"A nice pace to go on a day like this!" And here something struck him
sharply in the rear, knocking his hat forward onto the bridge of his
nose.
"What the...!" he checked his wrath with a sudden shamefaced laugh as
he found his unseen adversary to consist of the square railings.
Somewhere down Wigmore Street a clock boomed forth the hour. A quarter
to twelve. McTaggart counted the strokes and gave a sigh of relief not
unmixed with amusement: the secret congratulation of an unpunctual man
redeemed by an accident from the error of his ways.
Wedging his hat more firmly down on his head, he dared again the black
space before him, struck the curb on the opposite side and, one hand
against the wall, steered round the corner and up into Harley Street.
Under the first lamp he paused and hunted for the number over the
nearest door where four brass plates menaced the passer-by with that
modern form of torture that few live to escape--the inquisitorial
process known as dentistry.
Making a rapid calculation, he came to the conclusion that the house he
sought must lie at the further end of the street--London's "Bridge of
Sighs"--where breathless hope and despair elbow each other ceaselessly
in the wake of suffering humanity.
The fog was changing colour from a dirty yellow to opal, and the damp
pavement was becoming visible as McTaggart moved forward with a quick
stride that held an elasticity which it did not owe to elation.
He walked with an ease and lightness peculiar in an Englishman who,
athletic as he may be, yet treads the earth with a certain conscious
air of possessing it: a tall, well-built man, slender and very erect,
but without that balanced stiffness, the hall-mark of "drill."
A keen observer would guess at once an admixture of blood that betrayed
its foreign strain in that supple grace of his; in the olive skin, the
light feet, and the glossy black hair that was brushed close and thick
to his shapely head.
Not French. For the Frenchman moves on a framework of wire, fretting
toward action, deadly in attack. But the race that bred Napoleon,
subtle and resistant, built upon tempered steel that bends but rarely
breaks.
Now, as he reached the last block and the house he sought, McTaggart
paused for a second, irresolute, on the step.
He seemed to gather courage with a quick indrawn breath, and his mouth
was set in a hard line as his hand pressed the bell.
Then he raised his eyes to the knocker above, and with the slight
action his whole face changed.
For, instead of being black beneath their dark brows, the man's eyes
were blue, an intense, fiery blue; with the clear depths and the temper
touch that one sees nowhere else save in the strong type of the hardy
mountain race. They were not the blue of Ireland, with her
half-veiled, sorrowful mirth; nor the placid blue of England, that mild
forget-me-not. They were utterly unmistakable; they brought with them
a breath of heather-gloried solitude and the deep and silent lochs.
Here was a Scot--a hillsman from the North; no need of his name to cry
aloud the fact.
And yet...
The door was opened, and at once the imprisoned fog finding a new
outlet drove into the narrow hall.
A tall, bony parlour maid was staring back at him as, mechanically,
McTaggart repeated the great man's name.
"You have an appointment, sir?" Her manner seemed to imply that her
dignity would suffer if this were not the case.
Satisfied by his answer, she ushered him into a room where a gas fire
burned feebly with an apologetic air, as though painfully conscious of
its meretricious logs. Half a dozen people, muffled in coats and furs,
were scattered about a long dining table, occupied in reading
listlessly the papers, to avoid the temptation of staring at each
other. The place smelt of biscuits, of fog and of gas, like an unaired
buffet in a railway station.
McTaggart, weighed down by a sense of impending doom, picked up a
"Punch" and retired to the window, ostensibly to amuse himself, in
reality to rehearse for the hundredth time his slender stock of
"symptoms." The clock ticked on, and a bleak silence reigned, broken at
intervals by the sniff of a small boy, who, accompanied by a parent and
a heavy cold in the head, was feasting his soul on a volume of the
"Graphic."
Something familiar in the cartoon under his eyes drew McTaggart away
from his own dreary thoughts.
"I mustn't forget to tell him..." he was saying to himself, when he
realized that the paper he held was dated five months back! He felt
immediately quite unreasonably annoyed. A sudden desire to rise up and
go invaded his mind. In his nervous state the excuse seemed amply
sufficient. A "Punch" five months old!... it was a covert insult.
A doctor who could trade on his patient's credulity--pocketing his
three guineas, don't forget that!--and offer them literature but fit to
light the fire...
A "Punch" Five Months Old!... he gathered up his gloves.
But a noiseless step crossed the room, a voice whispered his name.
"Mr. McTaggart? This way, please."
He found himself following the bony parlour maid, past the aggressive
eyes of the still-waiting crowd, out into the hall and down a
glass-roofed passage.
"Now I'm in for it..." he said silently... "Oh!... _damn_!" He put
on his most truculent air.
The maid tapped at a door.
"Come in," said a sharp voice.
McTaggart entered and stood still for a moment, blinking on the
threshold, irresolute.
For the scene was unexpected. Despite the heavy fog that filtered
through the windows with its insidious breath, a hint of Spring was
there in the fresh white walls, the rose-covered chintzes and the
presence of flowers.
The place seemed filled with them. An early bough of blossom, the
exquisite tender pink of the almond in bloom, stood against a mirror
that screened a recess; and the air was alive with the scent of
daffodils, with subtle yellow faces, like curious Chinamen, peering
over the edge of a blue Nankin bowl.
In the centre of the room a man in a velvet coat was bending over a
mass of fresh violets, adding water carefully to the surrounding moss
out of a copper jug that he held in his hands.
McTaggart stared at him; at the lean, colourless face under its untidy
thatch of coarse, gray hair; at the spare figure, the long, steady
hands and the loose, unconventional clothes that he wore. He might
have been an artist of Rossetti's day in that shabby brown coat and
soft faded shirt. But the great specialist--whose name carried weight
wherever science and medicine were wont to foregather. Had he made a
mistake? It seemed incredible.
The doctor gave a parting touch to an overhanging leaf and wheeled
round to greet his patient with a smile.
"I can't bear to see flowers die from lack of care, and this foggy
weather tries them very hard. Excuse me a moment." He passed into the
recess, and washed his hands vigorously, talking all the while.
"Some years ago," he switched off the tap, "I went to a public dinner
of agriculturists. Found to my surprise I was sitting next Oscar
Wilde--one doesn't somehow associate him with such a function! On my
left was a farmer of the good old-fashioned type, silent, aggressive,
absorbed in his food. I happened to remark that the flowers were all
withered; the heat of the room had been too much for them.
"'Not withered'--Wilde corrected me--'but merely _weary_...'
"The farmer turned his head, and gave him one glance.
"'Silly Ass!' he said explosively and returned to his dinner. It was
his single contribution to the evening's conversation. I've never
forgotten it, nor the look on Wilde's face."
McTaggart laughed. He felt oddly at ease.
The doctor glanced at his nails and came back into the room.
He pushed an easy-chair toward his patient and leaning against the
mantelpiece with his hands in his pocket:
"Now, tell me all the trouble," he suggested quietly.
A slight flush crept up under the olive skin. McTaggart was suddenly
immensely ashamed.
"I don't believe really... there's anything... wrong..." He gave an
apologetic, husky little laugh... "but the fact is, a friend of
mine--he's a medical student--ran over me the other day, and, well--he
said--there was something odd--that he couldn't understand--something
about the beat of my heart. I'd fainted, you know--awfully
inconvenient--at a supper party, too... I'd been feeling pretty
cheap..." He broke off, confused, as for the first time the older man
deliberately fixed his eyes upon him. Hazel eyes they were with
curious flecks of yellow, bright and hard beneath his pince-nez.
"You fainted? For how long were you unconscious?" He added a few more
questions, nodded his shaggy head, and crossing the room sat down at
his desk. He opened a book, massively bound, where on each page was
printed, hideous and suggestive, an anatomical sketch of the human form
divine.
"I'd like your name in full." He picked up the card which McTaggart
had sent in by the parlour maid.
"P. M. McTaggart--what does that stand for?"
"It's rather a mouthful." The owner smiled. "Peter Maramonte."
The specialist glanced up shrewdly.
"Italian?--I thought so."
"On my mother's side. My father was Scotch, an Aberdonian."
"Your parents are living?"
"No, both dead." He stood there, tall and sombre, watching the other
write in a thin, crabbed hand the unusual name.
"Any hereditary tendency to heart trouble?"
"Not that I know of. My father was drowned--out fishing, one day. The
boat overturned, caught by a squall. He was, I believe, a strong
healthy man."
"And your mother?"
"She never seemed the same after his death. And then the climate tried
her. She'd been brought up in the South. The end was pneumonia. I
was only twelve at the time, but I don't think that either of them
suffered from the heart."
"I see. And now if you'll take off your things--strip to the waist,
please--and lie on that sofa."
It seemed to McTaggart that at this juncture the devil himself entered
into his clothes. Buttons multiplied and waxed evasive, his collar
stud stuck, his vest clove to his head.
He dragged it off at last, breathless and ruffled.
"That's capital." The great man adjusted his stethoscope and leaned
over the white young body outstretched. McTaggart felt dexterous hands
passing swiftly, surely; tapping here, pressing there, over his bare
flesh.
"A deep breath--so. Thank you, that will do. Now gently in and out
... quite naturally. Ah...!" He paused, listened a second and gave a
grunt. "I wonder?"
A wave of anger swept over the prostrate man.
"He's found something, damn him!" he said to himself, resenting the
eager light on that lean, absorbed face.
"Curious!" The specialist drew himself upright, and reached round for a
shorter, wooden instrument.
Another silence followed, pregnant of disaster. The pressure of the
wooden disk upon McTaggart's chest seemed to become insupportable--a
thing of infinite weight.
The doctor's coarse gray hair exhaled a faint scent where brilliantine,
ineffectually, had played a minor part, and in some mysterious way it
added to the other's annoyance. The suspense was unbearable.
"Found anything wrong?" His voice, unnaturally cheerful, brought a
frown to the doctor's face.
"Don't move, please. Keep silent, now." The disk slid across his
chest and settled above his ribs, on the right side this time, with its
load of discomfort.
"Marvellous... extraordinary! One's read of it, of course, but never
come across it... my first experience." The great man stood erect,
perplexity at end, a vast enthusiasm glowing in his eyes.
Suddenly he divined the patient's anxiety. "Nothing to worry about,"
he added soothingly. "You can dress now. Your heart's perfectly
sound." He walked away to his writing table, still engrossed in
thought.
McTaggart felt an immense relief that swamped curiosity. The ordeal
was over, and life still smiled at him. He tumbled into his clothes
and groped for his collar stud, which, with the guile of these wayward
things, had crept away to hide.
Suddenly in a glass he caught his own reflection--his hair dishevelled,
his collar bent, and felt an insane desire, despite these minor flaws,
to shake himself by the hand, as though, by personal effort, he had
prolonged his days!
The doctor still stood motionless, gazing into space. In the silence
of the room a faint pattering told of the almond blossom falling on the
polished floor.
McTaggart straightened his tie, and with his back turned,
surreptitiously began to dive in his pocket for the fee.
He found it at last, and took a step forward toward the absorbed figure
at the desk.
"I'd like to know," he suggested, "what you really think is the
cause...."
"Of course!" The lean face lifted with a start. "You must forgive me.
The fact is"--he smiled--"I'm too interested in your case to remember
your natural anxiety. I think your present trouble is caused by an
error in digestion. The palpitation comes from that and the other
symptoms too. A little care with your diet--I'll write you a
prescription--a bismuth mixture to be taken after meals. But if you've
further worry, come to me again. As | 2,184.553652 |
2023-11-16 18:53:28.5368850 | 1,468 | 32 |
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https://archive.org/details/lifeofwaltwhitma00binnuoft
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
A LIFE OF WALT WHITMAN
BY THE SAME WRITER
MOODS AND OUTDOOR VERSES
("RICHARD ASKHAM")
FOR THE FELLOWSHIP
[Illustration: _Walt Whitman at thirty-five_]
A LIFE OF WALT WHITMAN
by
HENRY BRYAN BINNS
With Thirty-three Illustrations
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
First Published in 1905
TO
MY MOTHER
AND
HER MOTHER
THE REPUBLIC
PREFACE
To the reader, and especially to the critical reader, it would seem
but courteous to give at the beginning of my book some indication
of its purpose. It makes no attempt to fill the place either of a
critical study or a definitive biography. Though Whitman died thirteen
years ago, the time has not yet come for a final and complete life
to be written; and when the hour shall arrive we must, I think, look
to some American interpreter for the volume. For Whitman's life is
of a strongly American flavour. Instead of such a book I offer a
biographical study from the point of view of an Englishman, yet of
an Englishman who loves the Republic. I have not attempted, except
parenthetically here and there, to make literary decisions on the value
of Whitman's work, partly because he still remains an innovator upon
whose case the jury of the years must decide--a jury which is not yet
complete; and partly because I am not myself a literary critic. It is
as a man that I see and have sought to describe Whitman. But as a man
of special and exceptional character, a new type of mystic or seer.
And the conviction that he belongs to the order of initiates has
dragged me on to confessedly difficult ground.
Again, while seeking to avoid excursions into literary criticism, it
has seemed to me to be impossible to draw a real portrait of the man
without attempting some interpretation of his books and the quotation
from them of characteristic passages, for they are the record of his
personal attitude towards the problems most intimately affecting his
life. I trust that this part of my work may at any rate offer some
suggestions to the serious student of Whitman. Since he touched life at
many points, it has been full of pitfalls; and if among them I should
prove but a blind leader, I can only hope that those who follow will
keep open eyes.
Whitman has made his biography the more difficult to write by demanding
that he should be studied in relation to his time; to fulfil this
requirement was beyond my scope, but I have here and there suggested
the more notable outlines, within which the reader will supply
details from his own memory. As I have written especially for my own
countrymen, I have ventured to remind the reader of some of those
elementary facts of American history of which we English are too easily
forgetful.
The most important chapters of Whitman's life have been written by
himself, and will be found scattered over his complete works. To
these the following pages are intended as a modest supplement and
commentary. Already the Whitman literature has become extensive, but,
save in brief sketches, no picture of his whole life in which one may
trace with any detail the process of its development seems as yet to
exist. In this country the only competent studies which have appeared
are that of the late Mr. Symonds, which devotes some twenty pages to
biographical matters, and the admirable and suggestive little manual of
the late Mr. William Clarke. Both books are some twelve years old, and
in those years not a little new material has become available, notably
that which is collected in the ten-volume edition of Whitman's works,
and in the book known as _In re Walt Whitman_. On these and on essays
printed in the _Conservator_ and in the _Whitman Fellowship Papers_ I
have freely drawn for the following pages.
Of American studies the late Dr. Bucke's still, after twenty years,
easily holds the first place. Beside it stand those of Mr. John
Burroughs, and Mr. W. S. Kennedy. To these, and to the kind offices of
the authors of the two last named, my book owes much of any value it
may possess. I have also been assisted by the published reminiscences
of Mr. J. T. Trowbridge, Mr. Moncure Conway, and Mr. Thomas Donaldson,
and by the recently published _Diary in Canada_ (edited by Mr.
Kennedy), and Dr. I. H. Platt's Beacon Biography of the poet.
Since I never met Walt Whitman I am especially indebted to his friends
for the personal details with which they have so generously furnished
me: beside those already named, to Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Johnston, Mr.
J. Hubley Ashton, Mrs. W. S. Kennedy, Mrs. E. M. Calder, Mr. and Mrs.
(Stafford) Browning of Haddonfield (Glendale), Mr. John Fleet of
Huntington, Captain Lindell of the Camden Ferry, and to Mr. Peter G.
Doyle; but especially to Whitman's surviving executors and my kind
friends, Mr. T. B. Harned and Mr. Horace Traubel. To these last, and
to Mr. Laurens Maynard, of the firm of Messrs. Small, Maynard & Co.,
the publishers of the final edition of Whitman's works, I am indebted
for generous permission to use and reproduce photographs in their
possession. I also beg to make my acknowledgments to Mr. David McKay
and Mr. Gutekunst, both of Philadelphia.
Helpful suggestions and information have been most kindly given by my
American friends, Mr. Edwin Markham, Professor E. H | 2,184.556925 |
2023-11-16 18:53:28.8305040 | 469 | 30 | VOL. 150, JUNE 7, 1916***
E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, David King, and the Project Gutenberg
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOL. 150
JUNE 7, 1916
CHARIVARIA.
A correspondent writes to tell us of a painful experience which he has
had in consequence of his efforts to practise war-time economy in the
matter of dress. The other evening, after going to bed at dusk in order
to save artificial light, he was rung up by the police at 1 A.M. and
charged with showing a light. It appears that he had gone to bed with
his blind up, after throwing his well-worn trousers over the back of a
chair, and that the rays of a street lamp had caught the glossy sheen of
this garment and been reflected into the eagle eye of the constable.
***
According to a Reuter's message the Greeks are "much preoccupied" at the
seizure of strategic positions on Greek territory by Bulgarian troops.
The preoccupation, it is thought, should have been done by the Allies.
***
While he was on his way to make a Memorial Day speech at Kansas City,
Mo., an open knife was thrown at Ex-President ROOSEVELT. Some of his
bitterest friends in the journalistic world allege that it was just a
paper knife.
***
Last week a number of professional fortune-tellers were fined at
Southend for having predicted Zeppelins. The fraudulent nature of their
pretensions was sufficiently manifest, since even the authorities had
been unable to foresee the coming of the Zeppelins until some time after
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PLEASING
POETRY AND PICTURES:
FOR THE
MIND AND THE EYE.
[Illustration]
Here’s a pretty new Book, full of verses to sing,
And Mary can read it--oh, what a fine thing;
Then such pretty verses, and pictures too, look!
Oh, I’m glad I can read such a beautiful book.
NEW HAVEN.
PUBLISHED BY S. BABCOCK.
1849.
[Illustration: THE BEE-HIVE.]
PLEASING
POETRY AND PICTURES.
[Illustration]
The Little Busy Bee.
_An Example of Industry, for Young Children._
How doth the little busy Bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower?
How skilfully she builds her cell,--
How neat she spreads her wax,
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labor, or of skill,
I must be busy too,
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.
[Illustration]
The Dead Bird.
_What we call Sport is too often Cruelty._
Ah! there it falls, and now ’tis dead!
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THE
HONEST AMERICAN VOTER'S
LITTLE CATECHISM
FOR
1880.
BY
BLYTHE HARDING.
Copyrighted, 1880.
NEW YORK:
John Polhemus, Publisher, 102 Nassau Street.
PREFACE.
I was invited the other day to take down, as Stenographer, what
purported to be a discussion upon some general political topics, and
more especially on the forthcoming presidential election. One of the
disputants entrenched himself in what, I believe, scholars call the
Socratic method, that is, he _pumped_ his supposed antagonist dry.
Whether the world at large may think the dialogue as funny as I did
myself, I can form no opinion. It is to solve this question that I
give it to the public.
BLYTHE HARDING.
NEW YORK, _August 31st, 1880_.
THE DIALOGUE.
What is a republic?
--A state, or Union of states, in which the people holds supreme
power.
How does the people exercise this power?
--Through men elected for this purpose.
What are these men called?
--Senators and members of Congress or Congressmen.
Is there a head or chief in a republic?
--Certainly.
What is he called?
--The President.
Must the President be elected?
--Yes, by the people.
Who declares the voice of the people in this matter?
--The electors of the different states, appointed to do it by the
people.
Is it necessary that the whole people should agree on one man in order
to elect him?
--No; it only needs a majority of the nation, voting through the
electors.
Do the votes of the electors generally follow the voice of the people
in the different states?
--They ought to follow it.
Are the electors considered bound to vote as the majority of the
people in their different states direct?
--Undoubtedly they are.
Then it is fair to say that the vote of a majority of the electors
show which way the majority of the people voted?
--That's a simple question. Why, of course!
What are the duties of the President?
--To mind the business of the nation, and his own, too.
Anything else?
--Isn't that enough?
Well, but what is that business?
--The business of the nation?
Yes.
--He makes treaties, weeds out old political hacks, and sends them
on embassies where they cannot annoy him, and have nothing to do;
appoints Judges of the Supreme Court like Joe Bradley, when he wants
to play eight-to-seven, commands the army and navy, gets fifty
thousand dollars a year, takes all the presents he can get, lives
in the White House, and does a kind of general housekeeping business
for the country.
I was not talking of Grant. Let that go. Does he do anything else?
--Yes; if he comes from Ohio, he fills nearly every place he's got
to give away with lean, hungry Ohio men, so that you can get a "whiff"
of that state all over Washington, and in a good many other places
too, any time of the day or night.
Really I don't understand you. All our Presidents do not come from
Ohio or Illinois!
--Thank God they don't.
Just tell me what the Senators have to do?
--To prevent Congressmen from making fools of themselves.
Anything else?
--Yes; to keep an eye on the "jobs" Congressmen are always trying
to put through.
What are the duties of Congressmen?
--God knows! I don't think they do themselves.
What should you think?
--From the way they go on, I should say: to make a grab whenever
they can.
Who is now President of the United States?
--Samuel J. Tilden.
That is a mistake. The present President of the United States is
Rutherford B. Hayes.
--He is, is he? Yes, just about as much as I'm owner of Central Park,
when I sit down on a bench there.
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Produced by David Widger
THE MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA DE SEINGALT
THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR MACHEN TO
WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED BY ARTHUR SYMONS.
MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798 IN LONDON AND MOSCOW,
Volume 5a--SOUTH OF FRANCE
SOUTH OF FRANCE
CHAPTER I
I Find Rosalie Happy--The Signora Isola-Bella--The
Cook--Biribi--Irene--Possano in Prison--My Niece Proves to be an Old
Friend of Rosalie's
At Genoa, where he was known to all, Pogomas called himself Possano. He
introduced me to his wife and daughter, but they were so ugly and
disgusting in every respect that I left them on some trifling pretext,
and went to dine with my new niece. Afterwards I went to see the Marquis
Grimaldi, for I longed to know what had become of Rosalie. The marquis
was away in Venice, and was not expected back till the end of April; but
one of his servants took me to Rosalie, who had become Madame Paretti six
months after my departure.
My heart beat fast as I entered the abode of this woman, of whom I had
such pleasant recollections. I first went to M. Paretti in his shop, and
he received me with a joyful smile, which shewed me how happy he was. He
took me to his wife directly, who cried out with delight, and ran to
embrace me.
M. Paretti was busy, and begged me to excuse him, saying his wife would
entertain me.
Rosalie shewed me a pretty little girl of six months old, telling me that
she was happy, that she loved her husband, and was loved by him, that he
was industrious and active in business, and under the patronage of the
Marquis Grimaldi had prospered exceedingly.
The peaceful happiness of marriage had improved her wonderfully; she had
become a perfect beauty in every sense of the word.
"My dear friend," she said, "you are very good to call on me directly you
arrive, and I hope you will dine with us to-morrow. I owe all my
happiness to you, and that is even a sweeter thought than the
recollection of the passionate hours we have spent together. Let us kiss,
but no more; my duty as an honest wife forbids me from going any further,
so do not disturb the happiness you have given."
I pressed her hand tenderly, to skew that I assented to the conditions
she laid down.
"Oh! by the way," she suddenly exclaimed, "I have a pleasant surprise for
you."
She went out, and a moment afterward returned with Veronique, who had
become her maid. I was glad to see her and embraced her affectionately,
asking after Annette. She said her sister was well, and was working with
her mother.
"I want her to come and wait on my niece while we are here," said I.
At this Rosalie burst out laughing.
"What! another niece? You have a great many relations! But as she is your
niece, I hope you will bring her with you to-morrow."
"Certainly, and all the more willingly as she is from Marseilles."
"From Marseilles? Why, we might know each other. Not that that would
matter, for all your nieces are discreet young persons. What is her
name?"
"Crosin."
"I don't know it."
"I daresay you don't. She is the daughter of a cousin of mine who lived
at Marseilles."
"Tell that to someone else; but, after all, what does it matter? You
choose well, amuse yourself, and make them happy. It may be wisdom after
all, and at any rate I congratulate you. I shall be delighted to see your
niece, but if she knows me you must see that she knows her part as well."
On leaving Madame Paretti I called on the Signora Isola-Bella, and gave
her the Marquis Triulzi's letter. Soon after she came into the room and
welcomed me, saying that she had been expecting me, as Triulzi had
written to her on the subject. She introduced me to the Marquis Augustino
Grimaldi delta Pietra, her 'cicisbeoin-chief' during the long absence of
her husband, who lived at Lisbon.
The signora's apartments were very elegant. She was pretty with small
though regular features, her manner was pleasant, her voice sweet, and
her figure well shaped, though too thin. She was nearly thirty. I say
nothing of her complexion, for her face was plastered with white and red,
and so coarsely, that these patches of paint were the first things that
caught my attention. I was disgusted at this, in spite of her fine
expressive eyes. After an hour spent in question and reply, in which both
parties were feeling their way, I accepted her invitation to come to
supper on the following day. When I got back I complimented my niece on
the way in which she had arranged her room, which was only separated from
mine by a small closet which I intended for her maid, who, I told her,
was coming the next day. She was highly pleased with this attention, and
it paved the way for my success. I also told her that the next day she
was to dine with me at a substantial merchant's as my niece, and this
piece of news made her quite happy.
This girl whom Croce had infatuated and deprived of her senses was
exquisitely beautiful, but more charming than all her physical beauties
were the nobleness of her presence and the sweetness of her disposition.
I was already madly in love with her, and I repented not having taken
possession of her on the first day of our journey. If I had taken her at
her word I should have been a steadfast lover, and I do not think it
would have taken me long to make her forget her former admirer.
I had made but a small dinner, so I sat down to supper famishing with
hunger; and as my niece had an excellent appetite we prepared ourselves
for enjoyment, but instead of the dishes being delicate, as we had
expected, they were detestable. I told Clairmont to send for the
landlady, and she said that she could not help it, as everything had been
done by my own cook.
"My cook?" I repeated.
"Yes, sir, the one your secretary, M. Possano, engaged for you. I could
have got a much better one and a much cheaper one myself."
"Get one to-morrow."
"Certainly; but you must rid yourself and me of the present cook, for he
has taken up his position here with his wife and children. Tell Possano
to send for him."
"I will do so, and in the meanwhile do you get me a fresh cook. I will
try him the day after to-morrow."
I escorted my niece into her room, and begged her to go to bed without
troubling about me, and so saying I took up the paper and began to read
it. When I had finished, I went up to bed, and said,
"You might spare me the pain of having to sleep by myself."
She lowered her eyes but said nothing, so I gave her a kiss and left her.
In the morning my fair niece came into my room just as Clairmont was
washing my feet, and begged me to let her have some coffee as chocolate
made her hot. I told my man to go and fetch some coffee, and as soon as
he was gone she went down on her knees and would have wiped my feet.
"I cannot allow that, my dear young lady."
"Why not? it is a mark of friendship."
"That may be, but such marks cannot be given to anyone but your lover
without your degrading yourself."
She got up and sat down on a chair quietly, but saying nothing.
Clairmont came back again, and I proceeded with my toilette.
The landlady came in with our breakfast, and asked my niece if she would
like to buy a fine silk shawl made in the Genoese fashion. I did not let
her be confused by having to answer, but told the landlady to let us see
it. Soon after the milliner came in, but by that time I had given my
young friend twenty Genoese sequins, telling her that she might use them
for her private wants. She took the money, thanking me with much grace,
and letting me imprint a delicious kiss on her lovely lips.
I had sent away the milliner after having bought the shawl, when Possano
took it upon himself to remonstrate with me in the matter of the cook.
"I engaged the man by your orders," said he, "for the whole time you
stayed at Genoa, at four francs a day, with board and lodging."
"Where is my letter?"
"Here it is: 'Get me a good cook; I will keep him while I stay in
Genoa.'"
"Perhaps you did not remark the expression, a good cook? Well, this
fellow is a very bad cook; and, at all events, I am the best judge
whether he is good or bad."
"You are wrong, for the man will prove his skill. He will cite you in the
law courts, and win his case."
"Then you have made a formal agreement with him?"
"Certainly; and your letter authorized me to do so."
"Tell him to come up; I want to speak to him."
While Possano was downstairs I told Clairmont to go and fetch me an
advocate. The cook came upstairs, I read the agreement, and I saw that it
was worded in such a manner that I should be in the wrong legally; but I
did not change my mind for all that.
"Sir," said the cook, "I am skilled in my business, and I can get four
thousand Genoese to swear as much."
"That doesn't say much for their good taste; but whatever they may-say,
the execrable supper you gave me last night proves that you are only fit
to keep a low eating-house."
As there is nothing more irritable than the feelings of a culinary
artist, I was expecting a sharp answer; but just then the advocate came
in. He had heard the end of our dialogue, and told me that not only would
the man find plenty of witnesses to his skill, but that I should find a
very great difficulty in getting anybody at all to swear to his want of
skill.
"That may be," I replied, "but as I stick to my own opinion, and think
his cooking horrible, he must go, for I want to get another, and I will
pay that fellow as if he had served me the whole time."
"That won't do," said the cook; "I will summon you before the judge and
demand damages for defamation of character."
At this my bile overpowered me, and I was going to seize him anti throw
him out of the window, when Don Antonio Grimaldi came in. When he heard
what was the matter, he laughed and said, with a shrug of his shoulders,
"My dear sir, you had better not go into court, or you will be cast in
costs, for the evidence is against you. Probably this man makes a slight
mistake in believing himself to be an excellent cook, but the chief
mistake is in the agreement, which ought to have stipulated that he
should cook a trial dinner. The person who drew up the agreement is
either a great knave or a great fool."
At this Possano struck in in his rude way, and told the nobleman that he
was neither knave nor fool.
"But you are cousin to the cook," said the landlady.
This timely remark solved the mystery. I paid and dismissed the advocate,
and having sent the cook out of the room I said,
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THE
ANABASIS OF ALEXANDER.
THE
ANABASIS OF ALEXANDER;
OR,
The History of the Wars and Conquests of Alexander the Great.
_LITERALLY TRANSLATED, WITH A COMMENTARY,
FROM THE GREEK OF ARRIAN THE NICOMEDIAN_,
BY
E. J. CHINNOCK, M.A., LL.B., LONDON,
_Rector of Dumfries Academy_.
London:
HODDER AND STOUGHTON,
27, PATERNOSTER ROW.
MDCCCLXXXIV.
Butler & Tanner,
The Selwood Printing Works,
Frome, and London.
PREFACE.
When I began this Translation, more than two years ago, I had no
intention of publishing it; but as the work progressed, it occurred
to me that Arrian is an Author deserving of more attention from the
English-speaking races than he has yet received. No edition of his
works has, so far as I am aware, ever appeared in England, though on
the Continent many have been published. In the following Translation I
have tried to give as literal a rendering of the Greek text as I could
without transgressing the idioms of our own language. My theory of the
duty of a Translator is, to give the _ipsissima verba_ of his Author
as nearly as possible, and not put into his mouth words which he never
used, under the mistaken notion of improving his diction or his way of
stating his case. It is a comparatively easy thing to give a paraphrase
of a foreign work, presenting the general drift of the original; but no
one, unless he has himself tried it, can understand the difficulty of
translating a classical Author correctly without omission or mutilation.
In the Commentary which I have compiled, continual reference has been
made to the other extant authorities on the history of Alexander,
such as Diodorus, Plutarch, Curtius, Justin, and Aelian; so that I
think I may safely assert that, taking the Translation and the Notes
together, the book forms a complete history of Alexander’s reign. Much
geographical and other material has also been gathered from Herodotus,
Strabo, Pliny, and Ammianus; and the allusions to the places which are
also mentioned in the Old Testament are given from the Hebrew.
As Arrian lived in the second century of the present era, and nearly
five hundred years after Demosthenes, it is not to be expected that he
wrote classical Greek. There are, however, at least a dozen valuable
Greek authors of this century whose works are still extant, and of
these it is a safe statement to make, that Arrian is the best of them
all, with the single exception of Lucian. I have noticed as many of his
deviations from Attic Greek constructions as I thought suitable to a
work of this kind. A complete index of Proper Names has been added, and
the quantities of the vowels marked for the aid of the English Reader.
In the multiplicity of references which I have put into the Notes, I
should be sanguine if I imagined that no errors will be found; but if
such occur, I must plead as an excuse the pressure of work which a
teacher in a large school experiences, leaving him very little energy
for literary labour.
E. J. C.
DUMFRIES,
_December, 1883_.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Life and Writings of Arrian 1
Arrian’s Preface 6
BOOK I.
CHAP.
I. Death of Philip and Accession of Alexander.—His Wars
with the Thracians 8
II. Battle with the Triballians 12
III. Alexander at the Danube and in the Country of the
Getae 14
IV. Alexander destroys the City of the Getae.—The Ambassadors
of the Celts 16
V. Revolt of Clitus and Glaucias 18
VI. Defeat of Clitus and Glaucias 22
VII. Revolt of Thebes (_September_, B.C. 335) 25
VIII. Fall of Thebes 28
IX. Destruction of Thebes 31
X. Alexander’s Dealings with Athens 34
XI. Alexander crosses the Hellespont and visits Troy 36
XII. Alexander at the Tomb of Achilles.—Memnon’s advice
Rejected by the Persian Generals 38
XIII. Battle of the Granicus (B.C. 334) 41
XIV. Arrangement of the Hostile Armies 43
XV. Description of the Battle of the Granicus 45
XVI. Defeat of the Persians.—Loss on Both Sides 47
XVII. Alexander in Sardis and Ephesus 50
XVIII. Alexander marches to Miletus and Occupies the
Island of Lade 52
XIX. Siege and Capture of Miletus 55
XX. Siege of Halicarnassus.—Abortive Attack on Myndus 58
XXI. Siege of Halicarnassus 61
XXII. Siege of Halicarnassus 63
XXIII. Destruction of Halicarnassus.—Ada, Queen of Caria 64
XXIV. Alexander in Lycia and Pamphylia 66
XXV. Treason of Alexander, Son of Aëropus 68
XXVI. Alexander in Pamphylia.—Capture of Aspendus and
Side 70
XXVII. Alexander in Phrygia and Pisidia 72
XXVIII. Operations in Pisidia 74
XXIX. Alexander in Phrygia 76
BOOK II.
I. Capture of Mitylene by the Persians.—Death of Memnon 78
II. The Persians capture Tenedus.—They are Defeated at
Sea 80
III. Alexander at Gordium 82
IV. Conquest of Cappadocia.—Alexander’s Illness at Tarsus 84
V. Alexander at the Tomb of Sardanapalus.—Proceedings
in Cilicia 87
VI. Alexander advances to Myriandrus.—Darius Marches
against him 89
VII. Darius at Issus.—Alexander’s Speech to his Army 91
VIII. Arrangement of the Hostile Armies 94
IX. Alexander changes the Disposition of his Forces 97
X. Battle of Issus 99
XI. Defeat and Flight of Darius 101
XII. Kind Treatment of Darius’s Family 104
XIII. Flight of Macedonian Deserters into Egypt.—Proceedings
of Agis, King of Sparta.—Alexander occupies
Phoenicia 106
XIV. Darius’s Letter, and Alexander’s Reply 111
XV. Alexander’s Treatment of the Captured Greek
Ambassadors.—Submission of Byblus and Sidon 114
XVI. The Worship of Hercules in Tyre.—The Tyrians refuse
to admit Alexander 117
XVII. Speech of Alexander to his Officers 120
XVIII. Siege of Tyre.—Construction of a Mole from the
Mainland to the Island 121
XIX. The Siege of Tyre 123
XX. Tyre Besieged by Sea as well as Land 124
XXI. Siege of Tyre 127
XXII. Siege of Tyre.—Naval Defeat of the Tyrians b 129
XXIII. Siege of Tyre 131
XXIV. Capture of Tyre 132
XXV. The Offers of Darius rejected.—Batis, Governor of
Gaza, refuses to Submit 134
XXVI. Siege of Gaza 136
XXVII. Capture of Gaza 137
BOOK III.
I. Conquest of Egypt.—Foundation of Alexandria 140
II. Foundation of Alexandria.—Events in the Aegean 142
III. Alexander visits the Temple of Ammon 144
IV. The Oasis of Ammon 147
V. Settlement of the Affairs of Egypt 148
VI. March into Syria.—Alexander’s Kindness to Harpalus
and his other early Adherents 150
VII. Passage of the Euphrates and Tigris 152
VIII. Description of Darius’s Army at Arbela 154
IX. Alexander’s Tactics.—His Speech to the Officers 157
X. Rejection of Parmenio’s Advice 159
XI. Tactics of the Opposing Generals 160
XII. Alexander’s Tactics 163
XIII. The Battle of Arbela 164
XIV. Battle of Arbela.—Flight of Darius 166
XV. Defeat of the Persians and Pursuit of Darius 168
XVI. Escape of Darius into Media.—March of Alexander
to Babylon and Susa 170
XVII. Subjugation of the Uxians 174
XVIII. Defeat of Ariobarzanes and Capture of Persepolis 176
XIX. Darius pursued into Media and Parthia 179
XX. March through the Caspian Gates 181
XXI. Darius is Assassinated by Bessus 182
XXII. Reflections on the Fate of Darius 185
XXIII. Expedition into Hyrcania 187
XXIV. Expedition against the Mardians 189
XXV. March to Bactra.—Bessus aided by Satibarzanes 191
XXVI. Philotas and Parmenio put to Death 193
XXVII. Treatment of Amyntas.—The Ariaspians 195
XXVIII. Alexander crosses the Hindu-Koosh 196
XXIX. Conquest of Bactria, and Pursuit of Bessus across
the Oxus 199
XXX. Capture of Bessus.—Exploits in Sogdiana 201
BOOK IV.
I. Rebellion of the Sogdianians 205
II. Capture of Five Cities in Two Days 206
III. Storming of Cyropolis.—Revolt of the Scythians 208
IV. Defeat of the Scythians beyond the Tanais 210
V. Spitamenes destroys a Macedonian Detachment 212
VI. Spitamenes driven into the Desert 214
VII. Treatment of Bessus 216
VIII. The Murder of Clitus 218
IX. Alexander’s grief for Clitus 221
X. Dispute between Callisthenes and Anaxarchus 223
XI. Callisthenes Opposes the Proposal to honour Alexander
by Prostration 225
XII. Callisthenes refuses to Prostrate himself 228
XIII. Conspiracy of the Pages 229
XIV. Execution of Callisthenes and Hermolaüs 231
XV. Alliance with the Scythians and Chorasmians 233
XVI. Subjugation of Sogdiana.—Revolt of Spitamenes 235
XVII. Defeat and Death of Spitamenes 237
XVIII. Oxyartes Besieged in the Sogdian Rock 239
XIX. Alexander Captures the Rock and Marries Roxana 241
XX. Magnanimous Treatment of the Family of Darius 242
XXI. Capture of the Rock of Chorienes 244
XXII. Alexander reaches the River Cabul, and Receives the
Homage of Taxiles 246
XXIII. Battles with the Aspasians 248
XXIV. Operations against the Aspasians 250
XXV. Defeat of the Aspasians.—The Assacenians and
Guraeans Attacked 252
XXVI. Siege of Massaga 254
XXVII. Sieges of Massaga and Ora 255
XXVIII. Capture of Bazira.—Advance to the Rock of
Aornus 257
XXIX. Siege of Aornus 260
XXX. Capture of Aornus.—Arrival at the Indus 262
BOOK V.
I. Alexander at Nysa 265
II. Alexander at Nysa 267
III. Incredulity of Eratosthenes.—Passage of the Indus 269
IV. Digression about India 270
V. Mountains and Rivers of Asia 273
VI. General Description of India 274
VII. Method of Bridging Rivers 277
VIII. March from the Indus to the Hydaspes 279
IX. Porus obstructs Alexander’s Passage 280
X. Alexander and Porus at the Hydaspes 282
XI. Alexander’s Stratagem to get across 283
XII. Passage of the Hydaspes 284
XIII. Passage of the Hydaspes 285
XIV. The Battle at the Hydaspes 287
XV. Arrangements of Porus 288
XVI. Alexander’s Tactics 290
XVII. Defeat of Porus 291
XVIII. Losses of the Combatants.—Porus Surrenders 293
XIX. Alliance with Porus.—Death of Bucephalas 295
XX. Conquest of the Glausians.—Embassy from Abisares.—Passage
of the Acesines 297
XXI. Advance beyond the Hydraotes 299
XXII. Invasion of the Land of the Cathaeans 301
XXIII. Assault upon Sangala 302
XXIV. Capture of Sangala 304
XXV. The Army refuses to Advance.—Alexander’s Speech
to the Officers 306
XXVI. Alexander’s Speech (_continued_) 308
XXVII. The Answer of Coenus 311
XXVIII. Alexander resolves to Return 313
XXIX. Alexander recrosses the Hydraotes and Acesines 314
BOOK VI.
I. Preparations for a Voyage down the Indus 317
II. Voyage down the Hydaspes 318
III. Voyage down the Hydaspes (_continued_) 320
IV. Voyage down the Hydaspes into the Acesines 321
V. Voyage down the Acesines 323
VI. Campaign against the Mallians 324
VII. Campaign against the Mallians (_continued_) 326
VIII. Defeat of the Mallians at the river Hydraotes 328
IX. Storming of the Mallian Stronghold 329
X. Alexander dangerously Wounded 331
XI. Alexander Wounded 333
XII. Anxiety of the Soldiers about Alexander 335
XIII. Joy of the Soldiers at Alexander’s Recovery 336
XIV. Voyage down the Hydraotes and Acesines into the
Indus 338
XV. Voyage down the Indus to the Land of Musicanus 340
XVI. Campaign against Oxycanus and Sambus 342
XVII. Musicanus Executed.—Capture of Patala 343
XVIII. Voyage down the Indus 345
XIX. Voyage down the Indus into the Sea 346
XX. Exploration of the Mouths of the Indus 348
XXI. Campaign against the Oritians 349
XXII. March through the Desert of Gadrosia 351
XXIII. March through the Desert of Gadrosia 353
XXIV. March through Gad | 2,184.945918 |
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BIRDS AND ALL NATURE.
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.
VOL. VI. OCTOBER, 1899. No. 3
[Illustration: FORESTS.
CHICAGO:
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER.]
CONTENTS
Page
FORESTS. 97
THE BRAVE OLD OAK. 102
"CHEEPER," A SPARROW BABY. 103
THE HERMIT THRUSH. 104
THE GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO. 107
OPTIMUS. 109
HOW THE EARTH WAS FORMED. 110
RETURNING HOME. 115
THE PLANT PRODUCTS OF THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 115
HONEY BIRDS. 116
FARM-YARD FOWLS. 119
THE GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO RIVER IN ARIZONA. 120
OIL WELLS. 122
THE BADGE OF CRUELTY. 128
FINISHED WOODS. 131
THAT ROOSTER. 132
BROOK TROUT. 137
CUBA AND THE SPORTSMAN. 140
NIAGARA FALLS. 143
HOW THE WOODPECKER KNOWS. 144
FORESTS.
JOHN M. COULTER, Ph.D.
_Head Professor of Botany, University of Chicago._
Forests have always been admired, and in ancient times they were often
considered sacred, the special dwelling-places of gods and various
strange beings. We can easily understand how forests thus affected
men. There is a solemnity about them, a quiet grandeur, which is very
impressive, and the rustling of their branches and leaves has that
mysterious sound which caused the ancients to people them with spirits.
We still recognize the feeling of awe that comes in the presence of
forests, although we have long since ceased to explain it by peopling
them with spirits.
Once forests covered all parts of the earth where plants could grow
well, and no country had greater forests than North America. When
America was discovered, there was a huge, unbroken forest from the
Atlantic west to the prairies. Now much of this has been cut away, and
we see only small patches of it. Men must use the forest, and still
they must save it, and they are now trying to find out how they may do
both.
Forests are sometimes almost entirely made up of one kind of tree,
and then they are called "pure forests." Pine and beech forests are
examples of this kind. More common with us, however, are the "mixed
forests," made up of many kinds of trees, and nowhere in the world are
there such mixed forests as in our Middle States, where beech, oak,
hickory, maple, elm, poplar, gum, walnut, sycamore, and many others
all grow together.
Probably the densest forests in the world are those in the Amazon
region of South America. So dense are they that hardly a ray of light
ever sifts through the dense foliage, and even at noon there is only a
dim twilight beneath the trees. The tallest forests are the Eucalyptus
forests of Australia, where the trees rise with slender trunks to
the height of four or five hundred feet. But the largest trees in
the world, when we consider both height and diameter, are the giant
"redwoods" (Sequoias) of the Pacific coast. All concede, however, that
the most extensive, the most varied, and the most beautiful forests of
the world are those of the Atlantic and Middle States.
Perhaps it is well to understand how a tree lives, that we may know
better what a forest means. The great roots spread through the soil,
sometimes not far from the surface, at other times penetrating deeply.
The young root tips are very sensitive to the presence of moisture,
and turn towards it, no matter in what direction it may carry them.
In penetrating the soil the sensitive root tips are turned in every
direction by various influences of this kind, and as a result, when
the root system becomes old, it looks like an inextricable tangle. All
this tangle, however, but represents the many paths that the root tips
followed in their search for the things which the soil contains.
Roots are doing two things for the tree: They anchor it firmly in the
soil, and also absorb material that is to help in the | 2,184.947771 |
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[Illustration: Henry M. Stanley Signature
1890]
COPYRIGHT 1890 BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
IN DARKEST AFRICA
OR THE
QUEST, RESCUE, AND RETREAT OF EMIN
GOVERNOR OF EQUATORIA
BY
HENRY M. STANLEY
WITH TWO STEEL ENGRAVINGS, AND ONE HUNDRED AND
FIFTY ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II
"I will not cease to go forward until I come to
the place where the two seas meet,
though I travel ninety years."--KORAN, chap. xviii., v. 62.
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1890
[_All rights reserved_]
COPYRIGHT, 1890, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Press of J. J. Little & Co.,
Astor Place, New York.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
CHAPTER XXI.
WE START OUR THIRD JOURNEY TO THE NYANZA.
PAGE
Mr. Bonny and the Zanzibaris--The Zanzibaris' complaints--Poison of the
Manioc--Conversations with Ferajji and Salim--We tell the rear column of
the rich plenty of the Nyanza--We wait for Tippu-Tib at Bungan | 2,184.947909 |
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E-text prepared by Julia Miller, Paul Clark, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made
available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
(http://archive.org/details/americana)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 42938-h.htm or 42938-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42938/42938-h/42938-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42938/42938-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
http://archive.org/details/horsemanshipforw00mead
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
HORSEMANSHIP FOR WOMEN
by
THEODORE H. MEAD
With Illustrations by Gray Parker
New York
Harper & Brothers, Franklin Square
1887
Copyright, 1887, by Harper & Brothers.
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS.
PART I. PAGE
AMATEUR HORSE-TRAINING 1
LESSON
I. COMING TO THE WHIP 15
II. TO HOLD THE BIT LIGHTLY (_Flexion de la machoire_),
USING THE CURB 21
III. TO HOLD THE BIT LIGHTLY, USING THE SNAFFLE 24
IV. TO LOWER THE HEAD 25
V. TO BEND THE NECK TO RIGHT AND LEFT, WITH THE
REINS HELD BELOW THE BIT (_Flexions de l'encolure_) 32
VI. TO BEND THE NECK TO RIGHT AND LEFT, WITH THE
REINS THROWN OVER THE NECK 35
VII. TO MOVE THE CROUP TO RIGHT AND LEFT WITH THE WHIP 38
VIII. MOUNTED 41
IX. MOUNTED (_continued_) 48
X. THE WALK 51
XI. TO MOVE THE CROUP WITH HEEL AND WHIP (_Pirouette
renversee_) 52
XII. TO GUIDE "BRIDLEWISE" 55
XIII. THE TROT 58
XIV. THE GALLOP, HAND-GALLOP, AND CANTER 64
XV. THE PIROUETTE, DEUX PISTES, PASSAGE 71
XVI. BACKING 75
XVII. RIDING IN CIRCLES.--CHANGE OF LEADING FOOT 79
PART II.
ETIQUETTE IN THE SADDLE 87
Dress 88
The Mount 91
Mounting 92
The Start 99
On which Side to Ride 100
The Seat 102
On the Road 107
The Pace 112
Turning 112
The Groom 116
PART III.
LEAPING 118
PART IV.
BUYING A SADDLE-HORSE 132
Parts and "Points" of the Horse, Alphabetically Arranged 135
List of Diseases and Defects 148
INDEX 157
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Coming to the Whip 6
A good Saddle 13
A properly fitted Curb-chain 16
Flexion of the Jaw--using the Curb 22
Lowering the Head 26
Punishment in case of Resistance 27
"Pulling the Hands steadily Apart" 33
To Bend the Neck to Right or Left, with the Reins below the Bits 34
Getting the Horse "Light in Hand" 35
Pulling on the Right Rein 36
Moving the Croup one step to the Right 39
Getting a Horse accustomed to Skirts 42
Showing Reins in Left Hand 43
Advancing at touch of Heel 44
Stopping at touch of Whip on Back 45
The Walk (Colt in Training) 46
Bending the Neck to Right and Left 49
Moving the Croup with the Heel and Whip 53
Guiding Bridlewise (Turning to the Right) 56
The Canter 65
Ordinary Pirouette 71
Going on "Deux Pistes" 72
The Passage 73
Backing 76
Reins in Hand 77
Act of changing Reins 77
Leading with the Right Fore-foot 80
Leading with the Left Fore-foot 82
Ready to Mount 94
"One, Two, Three" 95
Placing the Foot in the Stirrup 96
Position in Saddle 97
A Square and Proper Seat 103
Method of holding the Reins in both Hands 111
Approaching a Fence 119
A Water Jump 121
Rising to the Leap 127
Coming Down 129
Parts and "Points" 136
The sort of Horse to Buy 146
The sort of Horse not to Buy 149
HORSEMANSHIP FOR WOMEN.
PART I.
AMATEUR HORSE-TRAINING.
"My _dear_," said my wife, "you don't mean to say you have _bought
that_ horse?"
"Why, yes, indeed," replied I; "and very cheap, too. And why not?"
"You will never get your money back," said she, "no matter how cheap
you have bought him. Don't keep him. Send him back before it is too
late."
It was a sultry July morning, and my wife stood on the farm-house
porch, in provokingly fresh attire, while I held my new acquisition
by the bridle in the scorching sun; and just recovering as I was from
illness, this conversation struck me as really anything but _tonic_ in
its character. However, bracing myself up, I replied, "But I don't want
to get my money back; I intend to train him for my own use under the
saddle."
"Oh, you can never do anything with that great horse. Why, he is the
awkwardest brute I ever saw. Just look at him now!"
In fact, his appearance was anything but beautiful at that moment. His
Roman nose, carried a long way forward and a little on one side, gave
him somewhat the air of a camel; his coat showed no recent acquaintance
with the brush; and as he stood there sleepily in the sun, with one
hind-leg hitched up, he did not present at all a picture to charm a
lady's eye. Nevertheless, he was, in fact, a reasonably well-made
horse, a full black, fifteen and three-quarter hands high, sound, kind,
and seven years old.
"He's just horrid," said my wife.
"Oh, that's nothing," said I; "that's only a bad habit he has. We will
soon cure him of such slovenly tricks. Just see what good points he
has. His legs are a little long, to be sure, but they are broad, and
have excellent hoofs; his breast is narrow, but then it is deep; and
that large nostril was not given him for nothing. You will see he will
run like a race-horse."
"If you once get him started you can never stop him," said my wife.
"You know how he pulls, and how nervous he is. He will go till he
drops. You are not strong enough to ride such a horse."
"Oh, nonsense," said I; "you can see that there is no mischief in
him. Look what a kind eye he has! The fact is, horses are often very
sensitive; and while this one may never have been cruelly treated, yet
he has been misunderstood, and his feelings hurt a great many times a
day. Human beings are the only things he seems afraid of. As for his
awkward carriage, it is no worse than that of the farm hand who has
made such a failure of trying to use him, and who is, nevertheless,
when he stands up straight, a well-made, good-looking fellow. A little
careful handling will make that animal as different from his present
self as a dandified English sergeant is from the raw recruit he once
was. What do you think of his name? It is <DW71>."
But my wife was not to be led off on any side question, and after
intimating that such a plebeian appellation struck her as quite
suitable, she continued; "Now you know that Mr. ----" (the farmer
of whom I purchased) "knows a great deal more about horses than you
do; you must admit that, for he has been buying and selling and
driving them all his life, and _he_ doesn't like him, or he wouldn't
sell so cheap; and as for training him, for my part I don't believe
horse-training can be learned out of books, as a woman would learn a
receipt for making cake. Do get him to take the horse back!"
Now I have a great respect for my wife's opinion in general, and in
this particular case all her points seemed well taken.
The horse was tall, and I was short; he was excitable, and I hadn't the
strength of a boy; he was very awkward, and I had never trained a horse
in my life. However, I | 2,184.950953 |
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ARMINELL
A Social Romance
BY THE
AUTHOR OF “MEHALAH,” “JOHN HERRING,” ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. II.
LONDON:
METHUEN & CO., 18 BURY STREET, W.C.
1890
ARMINELL.
CHAPTER XIX.
LITTLE JOHN NOBODY.
Giles Inglett Saltren had promised his mother to say nothing to any one
of what had been told him, but the temptation had come strongly upon him
to tell Arminell that he was not the nobody she and others supposed, and
he had succumbed in the temptation. He and the girl had interests in
common, sympathies that drew them together, and he felt that it would be
of extraordinary benefit to her, and a pleasure to himself, if, in that
great house, where each was so solitary, they could meet without the
barrier which had hitherto divided them and prevented the frank
interchange of ideas and the communication of confidences. Later on in
the evening, it is true, that he felt some twinges of conscience, but
they were easily stilled.
Jingles had greatly felt his loneliness. He had been without a friend,
without even a companion. He could not associate with those of his
mother’s class, for he was separated from them by his education, and he
made no friends in the superior class, from the suspicion with which he
regarded its members. He had made acquaintances at college, but he could
not ask them to stay at Chillacot when he was at the park, nor invite
them as guests to Orleigh; consequently, these acquaintanceships died
natural deaths. Nevertheless, that natural craving which exists in all
hearts to have a familiar friend, a person with whom to associate and
open the soul, was strong in Jingles.
If the reader has travelled in a foreign country—let us say in
Bohemia—and is ignorant of the tongue, Czech, he has felt the
irksomeness of a _table d’hôte_ at which he has sat, and of which he has
partaken, without being able to join in the general conversation. He has
felt embarrassed, has longed for the dinner to be over, that he might
retire to his solitary chamber. Yet, when there, he wearies over his
loneliness, and descends to the coffee-room, there to sip his _café
noir_, and smoke, and pare his nails, and turn over a Czech newspaper,
make up his accounts, then sip again, again turn over the paper,
re-examine his nails, and recalculate his expenditure, in weariful
iteration, and long for the time when he can call for his bill and
leave. But, if some one at an adjoining table says, “Ach! zu Englitsch!”
how he leaps to eager dialogue, how he takes over his coffee-cup and
cognac to the stranger’s table; how he longs to hug the barbarian, who
professes to “speaque a littelle Englitsch.” How he clings to him,
forgives him his blunders, opens a thirsty ear to his jargon, forces on
him champagne and cigars, forgets the clock, his nails, his notes, the
bill and the train, in the delight of having met one with whom he can
for a moment forget his isolation.
If this be so when meeting with a foreigner, how much more cordial is
our encounter with a pleasant Englishman. We at once seek out links of
connection, to establish the fact of our having mutual acquaintances.
So did the impulse come on Saltren and overpower him. There was a
community of ideas between him and Arminell: and he was swept away by
his desire to find a companion, into forgetfulness of the promise he had
made to his mother.
That he was doing wrong in telling the girl a secret, about which he had
no right to let a hint fall without her father’s knowledge and consent
could hardly be hid from his conscience, but he refused to listen, and
excused himself on grounds satisfactory to his vanity. It was good for
Arminell herself to know the relationship, that she might be able to
lean on him without reserve. Giles Inglett Saltren had been very
solitary in Orleigh. He had not, indeed, been debarred the use of his
mother-tongue; but he had been unable to give utterance to his thoughts;
and of what profit is the gift of speech to a man, if he may not speak
out what is on his mind? The young are possessed with eager desire to
turn themselves inside out, and to show every one their internal
organisation. A polypus has the same peculiarity. It becomes weary of
exposing one surface to the tide, and so frankly and capriciously
inverts itself, so that what was coat of stomach becomes external
tissue, and the outer skin accommodates itself to the exercise of
digestive functions. Young people do the same, and do it publicly, in
society, in a drawing-room, in unsympathetic company. As we grow older
we acquire reserve, and gradually withdraw our contents within
ourselves, and never dream of allowing any other surface to become
exposed to the general eye, but that furnished us by nature as our
proper external envelope.
The young tutor had his own crude, indigested notions, a mind in
ferment, and an inflamed and irritable internal tissue, and he naturally
and eagerly embraced the only opportunity he had of inverting himself.
Then, again, a still mightier temptation operated on Jingles, the
temptation which besets every man to assume the rôle of somebody, who
has been condemned to play the part of nobody, when an opening is given.
There is a poem in Percy’s Reliques, that represents the grievances of
the common Englishman at the time of the Reformation, who dislikes the
change that is going on about him, the introduction of novelties, the
greed that masqueraded under the name of religion: and every verse ends
with the burden, “But I am little John Nobody, and durst not speak.”
Jingles had been unable to express his opinion, to appear to have any
opinion at all; he had been in the house, at table, everywhere, a little
John Nobody who durst not speak. Now the _rôle_ of little John Nobody is
a _rôle_ distasteful to every one, especially to one who has a good
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BOHN’S STANDARD LIBRARY
THE POEMS OF HEINE
GEORGE BELL AND SONS
LONDON: PORTUGAL ST., LINCOLN’S INN.
CAMBRIDGE: DEIGHTON, BELL AND CO.
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
BOMBAY: A. H. WHEELER AND CO.
THE POEMS OF HEINE
COMPLETE
TRANSLATED INTO THE ORIGINAL METRES
WITH A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE
BY
EDGAR ALFRED BOWRING, C.B.
[Illustration: colophon]
LONDON
GEORGE BELL AND SONS
1908
[_Reprinted from Stereotype plates._]
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION viii
PREFACE ix
MEMOIR OF HEINRICH HEINE xi
EARLY POEMS.
SONGS OF LOVE
Love’s Salutation 1
Love’s Lament 1
Yearning 2
The White Flower 3
Presentiment 4
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
GERMANY, 1815 6
DREAM, 1816 9
THE CONSECRATION 11
THE MOOR’S SERENADE 12
DREAM AND LIFE 13
THE LESSON 14
TO FRANCIS V. Z---- 14
A PROLOGUE TO THE HARTZ-JOURNEY 15
DEFEND NOT 15
A PARODY 16
WALKING FLOWERS AT BERLIN 16
EVENING SONGS 16
SONNETS
To Augustus William von Schlegel 17
To the Same 17
To Councillor George S----, of Göttingen 19
To J. B. Rousseau 19
The Night Watch on the Drachenfels. To Fritz von B---- 20
In Fritz Steinmann’s Album 20
To Her 21
Goethe’s Monument at Frankfort-on-the-Main, 1821 21
Dresden Poetry 21
Beardless Art 22
BOOK OF SONGS
PREFACE 23
YOUTHFUL SORROWS (1817-1821)
VISIONS 24
SONGS 39
ROMANCES 43
The Mournful One 43
The Mountain Echo 43
The Two Brothers 44
Poor Peter 44
The Prisoner’s Song 45
The Grenadiers 46
The Message 46
Taking the Bride Home 46
Don Ramiro 47
Belshazzar 52
The Minnesingers 53
Looking from the Window 54
The Wounded Knight 54
The Sea Voyage 54
The Song of Repentance 55
To a Singer (on her singing an old romance) 56
The Song of the Ducats 57
Dialogue on Paderborn Heath 57
Life’s Salutations (from an album) 59
Quite True 59
SONNETS
To A. W. von Schlegel 59
To my Mother, B. Heine, _née_ von Geldern 60
To H. S. 61
FRESCO SONNETS to Christian S---- 61
LYRICAL INTERLUDE (1822-23)
PROLOGUE 65
LYRICS 66
THE GOD’S TW | 2,185.04552 |
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+----------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's note: |
| |
| The combination "vv" which occurs at some places for |
| "w" and the word "Jonick" used sometimes for "Ionick" |
| has been kept to conserve the original appearance of the |
| book. No changes have been made in the text except the |
| correction of obvious typos. |
+----------------------------------------------------------+
[Illustration: ARCHITECTVRE 1692]
AN
ABRIDGMENT
OF THE
ARCHITECTURE
OF
VITRUVIUS.
CONTAINING
A System of the whole WORKS
of that Author.
Illustrated with divers Copper Plates, curiously
engraved; with a Table of Explanation,
To which is added in this Edition
The Etymology and Derivation of the
Terms used in _Architecture_.
First done in _French_ by Monsr _Perrault_, of the
Academy of _Paris_, and now _Englished_, with Additions.
_LONDON_: Printed for _Abel Small_ and _T. Child_,
at the _Unicorn_ in St. _Paul_'s Church-yard. 1692.
A
TABLE
OF THE
CHAPTERS.
The Introduction.
Article 1. _Of the great merits of_ Vitruvius, _and the
Excellencies of his Works_. Page 1.
Art. 2. _Of the method of the Works of_ Vitruvius, _with
short Arguments of every Book_. 9.
_A division of his whole Works into three parts, whereof 1.
treats of Building, 2. Gnomonical, 3. Mechanical. A second
division into three parts, 1. of Solidity, 2. of
Convenience, and 3. of Beauty. The Arguments of the Ten
Books._ 11, 12, &c.
THE FIRST PART.
Of the Architecture that is common to us
with the Ancients.
_Chap. I._ Of Architecture in general.
Art. 1. _Of the Original of Architecture_, 17.
_The first occasion of Architecture; the Models of the
first_ _Architects_, 19. _The Inventers of the four Orders
of Architecture_, 20.
Art. 2. _What Architecture is_, 23.
_Definition of it; an Architect ought to have the knowledge
of eleven things_, viz. _Writing_, _Designing_, _Geometry_,
_Arithmetick_, _History_, 24. _Philosophy, moral and
natural_, 25. _Physick_, _Law_, _Astronomy_, and _Musick_.
26.
Art. 3. _What the parts of Architecture are_, 27.
_There are eight parts in Architecture_, viz. 1. _Solidity_,
27. 2. _Convenience_, 3. _Beauty_, 4. _Order_, 5.
_Disposition_, 28. 6. _Proportion_, 7. _Decorum_, 8.
_Oeconomy_, 32.
_Chap._ II. Of the Solidity of Buildings.
Art. 1. _Of the choice of Materials_, 33.
Vitruvius _speaks of five sorts of Materials_, 1. _Stone_,
33. 2. _Bricks_, 34. 3. _Wood, whereof divers sorts are
used, as Oak, Fir, Poplar, Alder_, 35. _Pine, Cypress,
Juniper, Cedar, Larch_, 36. _and Olive_; 4. _Lime_; 5. _Sand
and Gravel_, 37. _of which several sorts, Pit, River, and
Pozzalane_, 38.
Art. 2. _Of the use of Materials_, 39.
_Of the Preparation of Stone_, 39. _Of Wood_, 40. _Of
Bricks_, 41. _Lime and Sand_, 43.
Art. 3. _Of the Foundation_, 45.
_In Foundations, to take care that the Earth be solid_, 45.
_Of the Masonry_, 46.
Art. 4. _Of the Walls_, 47.
_Six sorts of Masonry_, 48, 49. _Precautions to be used in
binding the Walls, to strengthen them with Wood_, 50. _That
they be exact perpendicular_, 51. _to ease them of their own
weight, by Timber or Arches over doors and windows, and by
Butresses in the earth_, 53.
Art. 5. _Of Flooring and Ceiling_, 54.
_Of Flooring upon the Ground_, 54. _between Stories_, 55.
_Open to the Air as Terrass, &c._ 57. _the Roof_, 58.
_Cornice_, 59.
Art. 6. _Of Plaistering_, 59.
_For great Walls, For Fresco_, 60. _for Partitions_, 61.
_For moist places_, 61.
_Chap. III._ Of the Convenience of Fabricks.
Art. 1. _Of convenient Scituation_, 63.
_That a place be convenient, it ought to be fertile,
accessible, in a wholsom Air, not on low Ground or marshy_,
64. _How to know a wholsom Climate_, 65.
Art. 2. _Of the Form and Scituation of the Building_, 65.
_The Streets and Houses of a City to be the most
advantagiously expos'd in respect to the Heavens and Wind_,
65, 66. _The scituation of each Room to be according to the
use of it; of Dining-rooms, Libraries, Closets, &c._ 67, 68.
Art. 3. _Of the Dispositions of Fabricks_, 68.
_The Dispositions of Buildings to be according to the use of
the House, either publick or private; of Merchants Houses;
of Country Houses; Of the several Apartments_, 70. _Of
Lights_, 71.
Art. 4. _Of the convenient form of Buildings_, 71.
_Of the Walls of Cities; Form of publick places_, 72. _which
were different among the_ Greeks _and_ Romans; _of Stairs
and Halls_, 72.
_Chap. IV._ Of the Beauty of Buildings.
Art. 1. _In what the beauty of Buildings consists_, 74.
_Two sorts of beauty in Buildings; 1st, Positive, which
consists in the Symmetry, Materials, and Performance_, 75.
_2d. Arbitrary, which is of two sorts; 1. Prudence, 2.
Regularity; which consist in the proper providing against
Inconveniences, and observing the Laws of Proportion_, 76.
_The beauty is most seen in the proportion of these
principal parts_, viz. _Pillars, Piedments, and
Chambrantes_, 78. _From these things result two other,
Gender and Order_, 79.
Art. 2. _Of the five Genders, or sorts of Fabricks_, 80.
_The five sorts are Pycnostyle, Systile_, 80. _Diastyle,
Areostyle, Eustyle_, 81. _The Genders to be always agreable
to the Orders of Architecture_, 82.
Art. 3. _Of the five Orders of Architecture_, 84.
_The distinction and difference in the several Orders;
consists in the Strength and Ornament_; Vitruvius _speaks
but of three Orders_, 85.
Art. 4. _Of things that are common to several Orders_, 85.
_There are seven things common to all Orders_, viz. _Steps_,
85. _Pedastals_, 86. _the diminution of Pillars, the
Channelings of Pillars, which is of three sorts_, 89. _the
Piedemont_, 90. _Cornices, and Acroteres_, 93.
Art. 5. _Of the_ Tuscane _Order_, 93.
_The_ Tuscane _Order consists in the Proportion of Columns,
in which there are three parts, the Base, the Shaft, and the
Capital_, 94. _Of Chambrantes; and of the Piedement_, 95.
Art. 6. _Of the_ Dorick _Order_, 96.
_The_ Dorick _Order consists in the proportion; of the
Columns, which have been different at diverse times, and in
diverse Works_, 96, 97. _The parts of the Column are the
Shaft; the Base which it anciently wanted, but hath since
borrowed from the Attic; the proportion of the Base_, 97.
_and the Captial_, 98. _the Archiatrave, which hath two
parts, the Platbands and the Gouttes_, 98. _the Frise, in_
_which are the Triglyphs and the Metops_, 98. _the
Proportion of them_, 99. _Of the Cornice, its proportion_,
99.
Art. 7. _Of the_ Ionick _Order_, 101.
_The preportion of Pillars of this Order_, 101. _The Pillars
set upon the Bases two ways, perpendicular, and not so_,
101. _Proportion of the Base, divided into its parts the
Plinthus, the Thorus, the Scotia upper and lower, with the
Astragals_, 102. _Of the Capital, its proportion and parts_,
103. _Of the Architrave, wherein to be considered, the
proportion it must have to the Pedestals, and to the heighth
of the Column_, 105. _to the breadth at the bottom_, 106.
_and to the jetting of the Cymatium_, 106. _Of the Frise and
Cornice_, 107.
Art. 8. _Of the_ Corinthian _Order_, 108.
_This Order different from the_ Ionick _in nothing but in
the Capitals of Pillars, being otherwise composed of the_
Dorick _and_ Ionick; _the proportion of the Capital_, 109.
_in which are to be consider'd its heighth, its breadth at
the bottom, the Leafs, Stalks, the Volutes, and the Roses_,
109. _Of the Ornaments_, 110.
Art. 9. _Of the Compound Order_, 110.
_The Compound is not described by_ Vitruvius, _it being a
general Design, and borrows the parts of the Capital (which
is the only distinction it has) from the_ Corinthian,
Ionick, _and_ Dorick _Orders_, 111.
THE SECOND PART,
Containing the Architecture that was particular
to the Ancients.
_Chap. I._ Of publick Buildings.
Art. 1. _Of Fortresses_, 113.
_In Fortification four things are consider'd; the
disposition of the Ramparts; the Figure of the whole place_,
114. _the building of the Walls; thickness, materials, and
terrass; the figure and disposition of the Towers_, 115,
116.
Art. 2. _Of Temples_, 116.
_Temples divided in the_ Greek _and_ Tuscan _Fashion; of
the_ Greek _some were round, and some square; in the square
Temples of the Greeks three things are to be considered; 1.
the_ Parts, _which are five, the Porch, the Posticum_, 117.
_the Middle, the Portico, and the Gates, which were of three
sorts_, viz. Dorick, 118. Jonick, 120. _and_ Attick, 120.
_2. The_ Proportion, 121. _and 3. The_ Aspect, _in respect
to the Heavens_, 122. _and to its own parts, which were
different in Temples with Pillars, and those without
Pillars; of Temples with Pillars there are eight sorts_,
122, 123, 124. Round Temples _were of two sorts, Monoptere_,
125. _Periptere_, 126. _Temples of the_ Tuscane Fashion,
126. _The Ancients had fourteen sorts of Temples_, 127.
Art. 3. _Of publick Places, Basilica's, Theatres,
Gates, Baths, and Academies_, 127.
_The Fabricks for publick Convenience were of six sorts, I.
Market-places of the_ Greeks _of the_ Romans, 128. _their
Proportions; II. Basilica's, their Proportions, Columns,_
_Galleries, and Chalcediques_, 128. _III. Theatres composed
of three parts; the Steps or Degrees which enclosed the
Orchestra_, 125. _the Scene which had three parts, the
Pulpit, the Proscenium_, 130. _and the Palascenium_, 131.
_And the Walking-places_, 131. _IV. Gates, which were either
natural or artificial, built three ways_, 132. _V. Baths,
consisting of many Chambers, their Description_, 133, 134.
_VI. Academies composed of three parts, the Peristyle_, 134.
_the Xystile_, 135. _and the Stadium_, 136.
_Chap. II._ Of | 2,185.051907 |
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Produced by David Widger
SHIP'S COMPANY
By W.W. Jacobs
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL
[Illustration: "The lodger was standing at the foot o' Ginger's bed,
going through 'is pockets."]
The night-watchman shook his head. "I never met any of these phil--
philantherpists, as you call 'em," he said, decidedly. "If I 'ad they
wouldn't 'ave got away from me in a hurry, I can tell you. I don't say I
don't believe in 'em; I only say I never met any of 'em. If people do
you a kindness it's generally because they want to get something out of
you; same as a man once--a perfick stranger--wot stood me eight
'arf-pints becos I reminded 'im of his dead brother, and then borrered
five bob off of me.
"O' course, there must be some kind-'arted people in the world--all men
who get married must 'ave a soft spot somewhere, if it's only in the
'ead--but they don't often give things away. Kind-'artedness is often
only another name for artfulness, same as Sam Small's kindness to Ginger
Dick and Peter Russet.
"It started with a row. They was just back from a v'y'ge and 'ad taken a
nice room together in Wapping, and for the fust day or two, wot with
'aving plenty o' money to spend and nothing to do, they was like three
brothers. Then, in a little, old-fashioned public-'ouse down Poplar way,
one night they fell out over a little joke Ginger played on Sam.
"It was the fust drink that evening, and Sam 'ad just ordered a pot o'
beer and three glasses, when Ginger winked at the landlord and offered to
bet Sam a level 'arf-dollar that 'e wouldn't drink off that pot o' beer
without taking breath. The landlord held the money, and old Sam, with a
'appy smile on 'is face, 'ad just taken up the mug, when he noticed the
odd way in which they was all watching him. Twice he took the mug up and
put it down agin without starting and asked 'em wot the little game was,
but they on'y laughed. He took it up the third time and started, and he
'ad just got about 'arf-way through when Ginger turns to the landlord and
ses--
"'Did you catch it in the mouse-trap,' he ses, 'or did it die of poison?'
"Pore Sam started as though he 'ad been shot, and, arter getting rid of
the beer in 'is mouth, stood there 'olding the mug away from 'im and
making such 'orrible faces that they was a'most frightened.
"'Wot's the matter with him? I've never seen 'im carry on like that over
a drop of beer before,' ses Ginger, staring.
"'He usually likes it,' ses Peter Russet.
"'Not with a dead mouse in it,' ses Sam, trembling with passion.
"'Mouse?' ses Ginger, innercent-like. 'Mouse? Why, I didn't say it was
in your beer, Sam. Wotever put that into your 'ead?'
"'And made you lose your bet,' ses Peter.
"Then old Sam see 'ow he'd been done, and the way he carried on when the
landlord gave Ginger the 'arf-dollar, and said it was won fair and
honest, was a disgrace. He 'opped about that bar 'arf crazy, until at
last the landlord and 'is brother, and a couple o' soldiers, and a
helpless <DW36> wot wos selling matches, put 'im outside and told 'im to
stop there.
"He stopped there till Ginger and Peter came out, and then, drawing
'imself up in a proud way, he told 'em their characters and wot he
thought about 'em. And he said 'e never wanted to see wot they called
their faces agin as long as he lived.
"'I've done with you,' he ses, 'both of you, for ever.'
"'All right,' ses Ginger moving off. 'Ta-ta for the present. Let's 'ope
he'll come 'ome in a better temper, Peter.'
"'Ome?' ses Sam, with a nasty laugh, "'ome? D'ye think I'm coming back to
breathe the same air as you, Ginger? D'ye think I want to be
suffocated?'
"He held his 'ead up very 'igh, and, arter looking at them as if they was
dirt, he turned round and walked off with his nose in the air to spend
the evening by 'imself.
"His temper kept him up for a time, but arter a while he 'ad to own up to
'imself that it was very dull, and the later it got the more he thought
of 'is nice warm bed. The more 'e thought of it the nicer and warmer it
seemed, and, arter a struggle between his pride and a few 'arf-pints, he
got 'is good temper back agin and went off 'ome smiling.
"The room was dark when 'e got there, and, arter standing listening a
moment to Ginger and Peter snoring, he took off 'is coat and sat down on
'is bed to take 'is boots off. He only sat down for a flash, and then he
bent down and hit his 'ead an awful smack against another 'ead wot 'ad
just started up to see wot it was sitting on its legs.
"He thought it was Peter or Ginger in the wrong bed at fust, but afore he
could make it out Ginger 'ad got out of 'is own bed and lit the candle.
Then 'e saw it was a stranger in 'is bed, and without saying a word he
laid 'old of him by the 'air and began dragging him out.
"'Here, stop that!' ses Ginger catching hold of 'im. 'Lend a hand 'ere,
Peter.'
"Peter lent a hand and screwed it into the back o' Sam's neck till he
made 'im leave go, and then the stranger, a nasty-looking little chap
with a yellow face and a little dark moustache, told Sam wot he'd like to
do to him.
"'Who are you?' ses Sam, 'and wot are you a-doing of in my bed?'
"'It's our lodger,' ses Ginger.
"'Your wot?' ses Sam, 'ardly able to believe his ears.
"'Our lodger,' ses Peter Russet. 'We've let 'im the bed you said you
didn't want for sixpence a night. Now you take yourself off.'
"Old Sam couldn't speak for a minute; there was no words that he knew bad
enough, but at last he licks 'is lips and he ses, 'I've paid for that bed
up to Saturday, and I'm going to have it.'
"He rushed at the lodger, but Peter and Ginger got hold of 'im agin and
put 'im down on the floor and sat on 'im till he promised to be'ave
himself. They let 'im get up at last, and then, arter calling themselves
names for their kind-'artedness, they said if he was very good he might
sleep on the floor.
"Sam looked at 'em for a moment, and then, without a word, he took off
'is boots and put on 'is coat and went up in a corner to be out of the
draught, but, wot with the cold and 'is temper, and the hardness of the
floor, it was a long time afore 'e could get to sleep. He dropped off at
last, and it seemed to 'im that he 'ad only just closed 'is eyes when it
was daylight. He opened one eye and was just going to open the other
when he saw something as made 'im screw 'em both up sharp and peep
through 'is eyelashes. The lodger was standing at the foot o' Ginger's
bed, going through 'is pockets, and then, arter waiting a moment and
'aving a look round, he went through Peter Russet's. Sam lay still mouse
while the lodger tip-toed out o' the room with 'is boots in his 'and, and
then, springing up, follered him downstairs.
"He caught 'im up just as he 'ad undone the front door, | 2,185.052912 |
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Produced by David Widger
THE DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS M.A. F.R.S.
CLERK OF THE ACTS AND SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY
TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SHORTHAND MANUSCRIPT IN THE PEPYSIAN LIBRARY
MAGDALENE COLLEGE CAMBRIDGE | 2,185.146871 |
2023-11-16 18:53:29.1317180 | 1,059 | 9 |
E-text prepared by sp1nd, Paul Clark, 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 42839-h.htm or 42839-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42839/42839-h/42839-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42839/42839-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/populartales00guiz
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
POPULAR TALES.
Reed and Pardon, Printers, Paternoster-Row, London.
[Illustration: Scaramouche, p. 27.]
POPULAR TALES.
by
MADAME GUIZOT.
Translated from the French by Mrs. L. Burke.
London:
George Routledge & Co.,
Farringdon Street.
1854.
PREFACE.
The favourable reception accorded to our first introduction of Madame
Guizot's Tales to the English Public, leads us to hope that our
youthful readers will welcome with pleasure another volume from the pen
of that talented writer.
This new series will be found in no respect inferior to the former;
one of its tales, certainly, has even a deeper interest than anything
contained in that volume, while the same sound morality, elevation
of sentiment and general refinement of thought, which so strongly
recommend the "Moral Tales" to the sympathies of the Parent and
Teacher, will be found equally to pervade the present series.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
SCARAMOUCHE 1
CECILIA AND NANETTE 37
THREE CHAPTERS FROM THE LIFE OF NADIR 98
THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 116
THE DIFFICULT DUTY--MORAL DOUBTS 139
NEW YEAR'S NIGHT 169
THE CURE OF CHAVIGNAT 171
THE DOUBLE VOW 231
POOR JOSE 237
CAROLINE; OR, THE EFFECTS OF A MISFORTUNE 307
SCARAMOUCHE.
It was a village fair, and Punch with his usual retinue--Judy, the
Beadle, and the Constable--had established himself on one side of the
green; while on the other were to be seen, Martin, the learned ass, and
Peerless Jacquot, the wonderful parrot. Matthieu la Bouteille (such
was the nickname bestowed upon the owner of the ass, a name justified
by the redness of his nose) held Martin by the bridle, while Peerless
Jacquot rested on his shoulder, attached by a chain to his belt. His
wife, surnamed _La Mauricaude_, had undertaken to assemble the company,
and to display Martin's talents. Thomas, the son of La Mauricaude,
a child of eleven years of age, covered with a few rags, which had
once been a pair of trowsers and a shirt, collected, in the remnant
of a hat, the voluntary contributions of the spectators; while in the
background, sad and silent, stood Gervais, a lad of between fourteen
and fifteen years of age, Matthew's son by a former marriage.
"Come, ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed La Mauricaude, in her hoarse
voice, "come and see Martin; he will tell you, ladies and gentlemen,
what you know and what you don't know. Come, ladies and gentlemen, and
hear Peerless Jacquot; he will reply to what you say to him, and to
what you do not say to him." And this joke, constantly repeated by La
Mauricaude in precisely the same tone, always attracted an audience of
pretty nearly the same character.
"Now then, Martin," continued La Mauricaude, as soon as the circle was
formed, "tell this honourable company what o'clock it is." Martin,
whether he did not understand, or did not choose to reply, still
remained motionless. La Mauricaude renewed the question: Martin shook
his ears. "Do you say, Martin, that you cannot see the clock at this
distance?" continued La Mauricaude. "Has any one a watch?" Immediately
an enormous watch was produced from the pocket of a farmer, and placed
under the eyes of Martin, who appeared to consider it attentively.
The whole assembly, like Martin himself, stretched forward with
increased attention. It was just noon by the watch; after a few
moments' reflection, Martin raised his head and uttered three vigorous
_hih | 2,185.151758 |
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Produced by David Schaal and PG Distributed Proofreaders
[Transcriber's note: The inconsistent orthography of the original is
retained in this etext.]
THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES of NILS
by
SELMA LAGERLOeF
TRANSLATED FROM THE SWEDISH
BY VELMA SWANSTON HOWARD
CONTENTS
The Boy
Akka from Kebnekaise
The Wonderful Journey of Nils
Glimminge Castle
| 2,185.15196 |
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Produced by Andrea Ball, Christine Bell & Marc D'Hooghe
at http://www.freeliterature.org (From images generously
made available by the Internet Archive.)
A PHILOSOPHICAL DICTIONARY
VOLUME IV
By
VOLTAIRE
EDITION DE LA PACIFICATION
THE WORKS OF VOLTAIRE
A CONTEMPORARY VERSION
With Notes by Tobias Smollett, Revised and Modernized
New Translations by William F. Fleming, and an
Introduction by Oliver H.G. Leigh
A CRITIQUE AND BIOGRAPHY
BY
THE RT. HON. JOHN MORLEY
FORTY-THREE VOLUMES
One hundred and sixty-eight designs, comprising reproductions
of rare old engravings, steel plates, photogravures,
and curious fac-similes
VOLUME VIII
E.R. DuMONT
PARIS--LONDON--NEW YORK--CHICAGO
1901
_The WORKS of VOLTAIRE_
_"Between two servants of Humanity, who appeared eighteen hundred
years apart, there is a mysterious relation. * * * * Let us say it
with a sentiment of profound respect: JESUS WEPT: VOLTAIRE SMILED.
Of that divine tear and of that human smile is composed the
sweetness of the present civilization."_
_VICTOR HUGO._
LIST OF PLATES--VOL. IV
VOLTAIRE'S ARREST AT FRANKFORT _Frontispiece_
OLIVER CROMWELL
TIME MAKES TRUTH TRIUMPHANT
FRANCIS I. AND HIS SISTER
[Illustration: Voltaire's arrest at Frankfort.]
* * * * *
VOLTAIRE
A PHILOSOPHICAL DICTIONARY
IN TEN VOLUMES
VOL. IV.
COUNTRY--FALSITY
* * * * *
COUNTRY.
SECTION I
According to our custom, we confine ourselves on this subject to the
statement of a few queries which we cannot resolve. Has a Jew a country?
If he is born at Coimbra, it is in the midst of a crowd of ignorant and
absurd persons, who will dispute with him, and to whom he makes foolish
answers, if he dare reply at all. He is surrounded by inquisitors, who
would burn him if they knew that he declined to eat bacon, and all his
wealth would belong to them. Is Coimbra _his_ country? Can he exclaim,
like the Horatii in Corneille:
_Mourir pour la patrie est un si digne sort_
_Qu'on briguerait en foule, une si belle mort._
So high his meed who for his country dies,
Men should contend to gain the glorious prize.
He might as well exclaim, "fiddlestick!" Again! is Jerusalem his
country? He has probably heard of his ancestors of old; that they had
formerly inhabited a sterile and stony country, which is bordered by a
horrible desert, of which little country the Turks are at present
masters, but derive little or nothing from it. Jerusalem is, therefore,
not his country. In short, he has no country: there is not a square
foot of land on the globe which belongs to him.
The Gueber, more ancient, and a hundred times more respectable than the
Jew, a slave of the Turks, the Persians, or the Great Mogul, can he
regard as his country the fire-altars which he raises in secret among
the mountains? The Banian, the Armenian, who pass their lives in
wandering through all the east, in the capacity of money-brokers, can
they exclaim, "My dear country, my dear country"--who have no other
country than their purses and their account-books?
Among the nations of Europe, all those cut-throats who let out their
services to hire, and sell their blood to the first king who will
purchase it--have they a country? Not so much so as a bird of prey, who
returns every evening to the hollow of the rock where its mother built
its nest! The monks--will they venture to say that they have a country?
It is in heaven, they say. All in good time; but in this world I know
nothing about one.
This expression, "my country," how sounds it from the mouth of a Greek,
who, altogether ignorant of the previous existence of a Miltiades, an
Agesilaus, only knows that he is the slave of a janissary, who is the
slave of an aga, who is the slave of a pasha, who is the slave of a
vizier, who is the slave of an individual whom we call, in Paris, the
Grand Turk?
What, then, is country?--Is it not, probably, a good piece of ground,
in the midst of which the owner, residing in a well-built and commodious
house, may say: "This field which I cultivate, this house which I have
built, is my own; I live under the protection of laws which no tyrant
can infringe. When those who, like me, possess fields and houses
assemble for their common interests, I have a voice in such assembly. I
am a part of the whole, one of the community, a portion of the
sovereignty: behold my country!" What cannot be included in this
description too often amounts to little beyond studs of horses under the
command of a groom, who employs the whip at his pleasure. People may
have a country under a good king, but never under a bad one.
SECTION II.
A young pastry-cook who had been to college, and who had mustered some
phrases from Cicero, gave himself airs one day about loving his country.
"What dost thou mean by country?" said a neighbor to him. "Is it thy
oven? Is it the village where thou wast born, which thou hast never
seen, and to which thou wilt never return? Is it the street in which thy
father and mother reside? Is it the town hall, where thou wilt never
become so much as a clerk or an alderman? Is it the church of Notre
Dame, in which thou hast not been able to obtain a place among the boys
of the choir, although a very silly person, who is archbishop and duke,
obtains from it an annual income of twenty-four thousand louis d'or?"
The young pastry-cook knew not how to reply; and a person of reflection,
who overheard the conversation, was led to infer that a country of
moderate extent may contain many millions of men who have no country at
all. And thou, voluptuous Parisian, who hast never made a longer voyage
than to Dieppe, to feed upon fresh sea-fish--who art acquainted only
with thy splendid town-house, thy pretty villa in the country, thy box
at that opera which all the world makes it a point to feel tiresome but
thyself--who speakest thy own language agreeably enough, because thou
art ignorant of every other; thou lovest all this, no doubt, as well as
thy brilliant champagne from Rheims, and thy rents, payable every six
months; and loving these, thou dwellest upon thy love for thy country.
Speaking conscientiously, can a financier cordially love his country?
Where was the country of the duke of Guise, surnamed Balafre--at Nancy,
at Paris, at Madrid, or at Rome? What country had your cardinals Balue,
Duprat, Lorraine, and Mazarin? Where was the country of Attila situated,
or that of a hundred other heroes of the same kind, who, although
eternally travelling, make themselves always at home? I should be much
obliged to any one who would acquaint me with the country of Abraham.
The first who observed that every land is our country in which we "do
well," was, I believe, Euripides, in his "_Phaedo_":
[Greek: "Os pantakoos ge patris boskousa gei."]
The first man, however, who left the place of his birth to seek a
greater share of welfare in another, said it before him.
SECTION III.
A country is a composition of many families; and as a family is commonly
supported on the principle of self-love, when, by an opposing interest,
the same self-love extends to our town, our province, or our nation, it
is called love of country. The greater a country becomes, the less we
love it; for love is weakened by diffusion. It is impossible to love a
family so numerous that all the members can scarcely be known.
He who is burning with ambition to be edile, tribune, praetor, consul, or
dictator, exclaims that he loves his country, while he loves only
himself. Every man wishes to possess the power of sleeping quietly at
home, and of preventing any other man from possessing the power of
sending him to sleep elsewhere. Every one would be certain of his
property and his life. Thus, all forming the same wishes, the particular
becomes the general interest. The welfare of the republic is spoken of,
while all that is signified is love of self.
It is impossible that a state was ever formed on earth, which was not
governed in the first instance as a republic: it is the natural march
of human nature. On the discovery of America, all the people were found
divided into republics; there were but two kingdoms in all that part of
the world. Of a thousand nations, but two were found subjugated.
It was the same in the ancient world; all was republican in Europe
before the little kinglings of Etruria and of Rome. There are yet
republics in Africa: the Hottentots, towards the south, still live as
people are said to have lived in the first ages of the world--free,
equal, without masters, without subjects, without money, and almost
without wants. The flesh of their sheep feeds them; they are clothed
with their skins; huts of wood and clay form their habitations. They are
the most dirty of all men, but they feel it not, but live and die more
easily than we do. There remain eight republics in Europe without
monarchs--Venice, Holland, Switzerland, Genoa, Lucca, Ragusa, Geneva,
and San Marino. Poland, Sweden, and England may be regarded as republics
under a king, but Poland is the only one of them which takes the name.
But which of the two is to be preferred for a country--a monarchy or a
republic? The question has been agitated for four thousand years. Ask
the rich, and they will tell you an aristocracy; ask the people, and
they will reply a democracy; kings alone prefer royalty. Why, then, is
almost all the earth governed by monarchs? Put that question to the rats
who proposed to hang a bell around the cat's neck. In truth, the
genuine reason is, because men are rarely worthy of governing
themselves | 2,185.152788 |
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Produced by Chris Logan and the Online Distributed
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produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
AMATEUR FISH
CULTURE
BY CHARLES EDWARD WALKER
AUTHOR OF "OLD FLIES IN NEW
DRESSES" "SHOOTING ON A
SMALL INCOME," ETC
WESTMINSTER
ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & CO LTD
2 WHITEHALL GARDENS
1901
Butler & Tanner,
The Selwood Printing Works,
Frome, and London.
PREFACE
My aim, in this little book, has been to give information and hints
which will prove useful to the amateur. Some of the plans and apparatus
suggested would not be suitable for fish culture on a large scale, but
my object has been to confine myself entirely to operations on a small
scale. I have to thank the Editor of _Land and Water_ for permission to
publish in book form what first appeared as a series of articles.
CHARLES WALKER.
Mayfield, Sussex.
_March, 1901._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Introductory 1
II Stocking Waters with Food 7
III Suitable Fish and Suitable Waters 14
IV Trout. Preliminary Hints and Advice 20
V Trout. Rearing Ponds, Boxes, and Hatching Trays 27
VI Trout. Management of the Ova and Alevins 34
VII Trout. Management of the Fry 42
VIII Trout. The Management of the Fry (_Continued_) 51
IX Trout. The Friends and Enemies of the Fish Culturist 58
X Trout. Management, Feeding, and Turning out of Yearlings 67
XI The Rearing of the Rainbow Trout, American Brook Trout,
and Char 72
XII Salmon and Sea-Trout 81
XIII Coarse Fish 88
Appendix 93
Index 97
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
Fish culture of a certain kind dates from very early times, but its
scientific development has only come about quite recently. Most people
know that in our own country the monks had stew ponds, where they kept
fish, principally carp, and also that the Romans kept fish in ponds. In
the latter case we hear more often of the eel than of other fish. The
breeding of trout and salmon, and the artificial spawning and hatching
of ova, are, however, an innovation of our own time.
Much has been discovered about the procreation of fish, and in no case
have scientists worked so hard and discovered more than in the case of
_Salmonidae_. Fish culture, particularly trout culture, has become a
trade, and a paying one. To any one who has the least idea of the
difficulties to be overcome in rearing _Salmonidae_, this fact alone
proves that fish culture must have progressed to a very advanced stage
as a science.
This advance has in very many, if not in the majority of cases, been
made by the bitter experience gained through failures and mishaps, for
these have led fish culturists to try many different means to prevent
mischances, or to rectify them if they have happened. Some of the most
serious difficulties experienced by the early fish culturists who bred
_Salmonidae_ can now be almost disregarded, for they hardly exist for the
modern fish culturist, with the knowledge he possesses of the experience
of others.
So much of what has been done in fish culture is generally known to
those who have studied and practised it, that the beginner can nowadays
commence far ahead of the point whence the first fish culturists
started. Many of his difficulties have been overcome for him already,
and though he will not, of course, meet with the success of the man of
experience, still he ought with the exercise of an average amount of
intelligence to avoid such failures as would completely disgust him.
There are many pieces of water containing nothing but coarse fish which
are very suitable for trout of some kind. Ponds, particularly those
which have a stream running through them, will, as a rule, support a
good head of trout if properly managed. Again a water which contains
trout may become more or less depleted, and here it is necessary to
supply the deficiency of trout by some means. The easiest way is, of
course, to buy yearling or two-year-old fish from a piscicultural
establishment, of which there are many in the kingdom, but I know that
there are many fishermen who would much prefer to rear their own fish
from the ova, than to buy ready-made fish. Any one who has the time and
opportunity to rear his own fish will be amply repaid by the amusement
and interest gained, and it should be the cheaper method of stocking or
re-stocking a water.
The same remarks apply to a certain extent to waters which will not
support trout, or where the owner wants more coarse fish. The stock of
coarse fish may be improved by fish culture just as much as a stock of
trout.
In his first year or two, it is very possible that the amateur will not
save very much by being his own pisciculturist. If, however, he is
careful, and works with intelligence, it is quite possible that he may
succeed better than he had hoped and rear a good head of fish at a less
cost than the purchase of yearlings. In any case he will have had a
great deal of pleasure and gained experience as well as reared some
fish.
In the present little volume, I propose to try and deal with fish
culture in such a way as to help the amateur who wishes to rear fish to
stock his own water. Much of the existing literature of the subject
deals with it on such a large scale that the amateur is frightened to
attempt what is apparently so huge an undertaking. Fish culture may,
however, be carried out on a small scale with success, and though
considerable attention is necessary, particularly with young
_Salmonidae_, it is not a task which involves a very great proportion of
the time of any one undertaking it. It is absolutely necessary, however,
that the amateur fish culturist should live on the spot, or have some
one who is intelligent and perfectly trustworthy who does. In every case
in my experience, trusting the care of young fish to a keeper or servant
has resulted in failure, and in every failure I have seen where the fish
have not been trusted to the care of a servant, the cause has been very
obvious, and could easily have been avoided.
The rearing of trout is the most important branch of fish culture to the
amateur, and fortunately but slight modifications are necessary in
rearing other fish. What is good enough for trout is good enough for
most fish, therefore I think that I shall be right in describing trout
culture at considerable length, and dealing with other fish in a
somewhat summary manner. The difference in the management, etc., of
other fish I shall point out after describing how to rear trout.
To begin with, the amateur must not suppose that because he puts fish
into a stream or pond he will succeed in stocking that water or
increasing the head of fish. There are many other things to be
considered. The river, stream, or pond must be of a suitable character
for the fish, and there must be plenty of food. I am sure that it is
much more important to consider carefully whether the water is suitable,
and contains a proper supply of food, than to consider how the fish are
to be obtained, for recourse may always be had to a professional fish
culturist--fish of almost any kind and any age can be bought ready
made.
The point I would impress upon the amateur more forcibly than anything
else, is that he should be sure that there is plenty for his fish to eat
in the water, before he thinks of putting them into it. It is for this
reason that I devote my next chapter chiefly to the stocking of waters
with food and to the improvement of the food supply in waters where some
food already exists.
CHAPTER II
STOCKING WATERS WITH FOOD
It may seem somewhat superfluous to say that fish cannot live in any
water unless that water contains the food supply necessary for them to
thrive upon, and yet this is the point most often overlooked in stocking
waters with fish. Small attempts at stocking with creatures suitable for
food, particularly after the fish have been already introduced, are not
at all likely to succeed. Such an important matter when treated as a
small afterthought is almost sure to end in failure of the whole
business of stocking.
But a small amount of thought will convince any one that in order that
there may be a sufficient amount of animal life in a water, there must
be an adequate vegetable life, for weeds are almost always necessary to
the well-being of the creatures which serve as food for fishes.
In the case of a pond it is generally fairly easy to introduce a good
stock of suitable weeds. The best method is to let the pond down as low
as possible, and then to plant some weeds round the margin; the water is
then allowed to gradually fill up the pond, and as it rises weeds are
planted round the rising margin of the water. In ponds which cannot be
emptied at all, or not sufficiently to carry out this plan, weeds may be
planted in an easy but not quite so effectual a manner. They may be
planted in shallow baskets containing some mud from the bottom of the
pond, and then lowered in suitable places from a boat, or bundles of the
weed may be tied to stones and dropped into the water in a similar
manner.
These latter methods are, of course, not so good as actually planting
the weeds round the advancing margin of the water, for success depends
to a certain extent upon chance. Some of the weeds thus planted are,
however, sure to take root and grow. Plants of different kinds, of
course, are necessary at different depths and on different kinds of
bottoms, and good kinds are necessary at the margin of the water as
well. I give a list of some suitable plants of each kind at the end of
this chapter.
Similar methods are used in planting weeds in rivers and streams to
those used in ponds. If the weeds are planted in baskets, the baskets
must, of course, be weighted when put in a position where the current
can act upon them.
Besides vegetation in the water, vegetation on the bank is of
considerable importance. I shall deal with this at a later period more
fully, as trees and bushes, besides harbouring many insects which serve
as food for fish, have also considerable importance in giving cover to
the fish and to the fisherman who is pursuing them.
I think that in the case of a bare water, a year at least should be
devoted to developing a good supply of vegetation. This will generally
produce a considerable amount of animal life, without any artificial
help, but judicious help will be sure to accelerate matters to a
considerable extent. I would, however, advise the amateur not to attempt
to introduce a quantity of creatures into his water, until the vegetable
life therein is well established. For instance, though fresh-water
snails are desirable in every trout water, if introduced in large
numbers into a water in which the vegetation is small and not well
established, they will eat down the weeds too much and then die off from
disease caused by want of sufficient nourishment.
Having established the vegetable life well in a water, and developed it
to a considerable extent, the amateur may begin to examine his water,
and find out how much animal life exists there, and to stock with
creatures suitable for food, according to what he finds in the water.
Fresh-water snails are always desirable. In streams, or in ponds with
streams running into them, the fresh-water shrimps (_Gammarus pulex_)
should always be tried. It does not do in some waters, but where it does
thrive it increases | 2,185.154652 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Twenty-Five Years in a Waggon in South Africa, by Andrew A. Anderson.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS IN A WAGGON IN SOUTH AFRICA, BY ANDREW A. ANDERSON.
PREFACE.
My object in writing this work is to add another page to the physical
geography of Africa. That region selected for my explorations has
hitherto been a _terra incognita_ in all maps relating to this dark
continent. The field of my labour has been South Central Africa, north
of the Cape Colony, up to the Congo region, comprising an area of
2,000,000 square miles; in length, from north to south, 1100 miles, and
from east to west--that is, from the Indian to the South Atlantic
Ocean--1800 miles, which includes the whole of Africa from sea to sea,
and from the 15 degree to the 30 degree south latitude.
It has been my desire to make physical geography a pleasant study to the
young, and in gaining this knowledge of a country, they may at the same
time become acquainted with its resources and capabilities for future
enterprise in commercial pursuits to all who may embark in such
undertakings, and this cannot be accomplished without having a full
knowledge of the people who inhabit the land; also its geological
features, natural history, botany, and other subjects of interest in
connection with it. Such information is imperative to a commercial
nation like Great Britain, particularly when we look round and see such
immense competition in trade with our continental neighbours,
necessitates corresponding energy at home if we wish to hold our own in
the great markets of the world, and this cannot be done unless the
resources and capabilities of every quarter of the globe is thoroughly
known. And for this purpose my endeavours have been directed, so far as
South Central Africa is concerned, and to fill up the blank in the
physical geography of that portion of the African Continent.
When I undertook this work in 1863 no information could be obtained as
to what was beyond our colonial frontier, except that a great part was
desert land uninhabited, except in parts by wild Bushmen, and the
remaining region beyond by lawless tribes of natives. I at once saw
there was a great field open for explorations, and I undertook that duty
in that year, being strongly impressed with the importance, that
eventually it would become (connected as it is with our South African
possessions) of the highest value, if in our hands, for the preservation
of our African colonies, the extension of our trade, and a great field
for civilising and Christianising the native races, as also for
emigration, which would lead to most important results, in opening up
the great high road to Central Africa, thereby securing to the Cape
Colony and Natal a vast increase of trade and an immense opening for the
disposal of British merchandise that would otherwise flow into other
channels through foreign ports; and, at the same time, knowing how
closely connected native territories were to our border, which must
affect politically and socially the different nationalities that are so
widely spread over all the southern portion of Africa. With these
advantages to be attained, it was necessary that some step should be
taken to explore these regions, open up the country, and correctly
delineate its physical features, and, if time permitted, its geological
formation also, and other information that could be collected from time
to time as I proceeded on my work. Such a vast extent of country,
containing 2,000,000 square miles, cannot be thoroughly explored
single-handed under many years' labour, neither can so extensive an area
be properly or intelligibly described as a whole. I have, therefore, in
the first place, before entering upon general subjects, deemed it
advisable to describe the several river systems and their basins in
connection with the watersheds, as it will greatly facilitate and make
more explicit the description given as to the locality of native
territories that occupy this interesting and valuable portion of the
African continent, in relation to our South African colonies. And,
secondly, to describe separately each native state, the latitude and
longitude of places, distances, and altitudes above sea-level, including
those subjects above referred to. All this may be considered dry
reading. I have therefore introduced many incidents that occurred
during my travels through the country from time to time. To have
enlarged on personal events, such as hunting expeditions, which were of
daily occurrence, would have extended this work to an unusual length,
therefore I have taken extracts from my journals to make the book, I
trust, more interesting, and at the same time make physical geography a
pleasant study to the young, who may wish to make themselves acquainted
with every part of the globe. This is the first and most important duty
to all who are entering into commercial pursuits, for without this
knowledge little can be done in extending our commerce to regions at
present but little known.
My travels and dates are not given consecutively, but each region is
separately described, taken from journeys when passing through them in
different years.
CHAPTER ONE.
IN NATAL--PREPARING FOR MY LONG-PROMISED EXPLORATIONS INTO THE FAR
INTERIOR.
As a colonial, previous to 1860, I had long contemplated making an
expedition into the regions north of the Cape Colony and Natal, but not
until that year was I able to see my way clear to accomplish it. At
that time, 1860, the Cape Colony was not so well known as it is now, and
Natal much less; more particularly beyond its northern boundary, over
the Drakensberg mountains, for few besides the Boers had ever penetrated
beyond the Free State and Transvaal; and when on their return journey to
Maritzburg, to sell their skins and other native produce, I had frequent
conversations with them, the result was that nothing was known of the
country beyond their limited journeys. This naturally gave me a greater
desire to visit the native territories, and, being young and full of
energy, wishing for a more active life than farming, although that is
active during some part of the year, I arranged my plans and made up my
mind to visit these unknown regions, and avail myself of such
opportunities as I could spare from time to time to go and explore the
interior, and collect such information as might come within my reach,
not only for self-gratification, but to obtain a general knowledge of
the country that might eventually be of use to others, and so combine
pleasure with profit, to pay the necessary expenses of each journey.
Such were my thoughts at the time, and if I could make what little
knowledge I possessed available in pursuing this course, my journeys
would not be wasted. My plans at first were very vague, but,
eventually, as I proceeded they became more matured, and having a
thorough knowledge of colonial life and what was necessary to be done to
carry out my wishes, I had little difficulty in getting my things in
order. Geology was one of my weaknesses, also natural history, which
were not forgotten in my preparations. The difficulty was, there were
no maps to guide me in the course to take over this wide and unknown
region; I therefore determined to add that work also to my duties, and
make this a book of reference on the Geography of South Central Africa,
and so complete as I went on such parts visited, as time and
opportunities permitted, as also a general description of the country,
the inhabitants, botany, and other subjects, and incidents that took
place on my travels through this interesting and important part of the
African continent, and so cool down a little of the superabundant Scotch
blood that would not let me settle down to a quiet life when there was
anything to be done that required action; for we know perfectly well
before we enter upon these explorations, that we shall not be living in
the lap of luxury, or escape from all the perils that beset a traveller
when first entering upon unknown ground--if any of these troubles should
enter his mind, he had better stay at home. But, at the same time, it
will be necessary to give some idea what an explorer has to undergo in
penetrating these regions, and also the pleasures to be derived
therefrom.
"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture by the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes
By the deep sea, and music in its roar."
_Byron_.
It is a pleasure to be able to ramble unfettered by worldly ambition
over a wild and new country, far from civilisation, where the postman's
knock is never heard, or shrieking railway-whistles, startling the seven
senses out of your poor bewildered brain, and other so-called civilising
influences, keeping up a perpetual nervous excitement not conducive to
health. A life in the desert is certainly most charming with all its
drawbacks, where the mind can have unlimited action. To travel when you
please, eat and drink when so inclined, bunt, fish, sketch, explore,
read or sleep, as the case may be, without interruption; no laws to curb
your actions, or conventional habits to be studied. This is freedom,
liberty, independence, in the full sense of the word. With these dreamy
thoughts constantly before me, I determined to give such a life a trial;
consequently, without more ado, I set to work to provide myself with the
necessary means. Having heard, when travelling through Natal, that the
country a few miles beyond the Drakensberg mountains was a _terra
incognita_, where game could be counted by the million, and the native
tribes beyond lived in primitive innocence, I was charmed with the
thought of being the first in the field to enjoy Nature in all its
forms, and bring before me, face to face, a people whose habits,
customs, and daily life were the same to-day they were five thousand
years ago. What a lesson for man! With what greed I looked upon my
probable isolation from the outer world; craving for this visit to the
happy hunting-ground.
The first thing to be done was to apply to an old friend, living a short
distance from Maritzburg on a farm, who had been on several hunting
expeditions, and returned a few weeks before, with his waggon-load of
skins of various animals he had shot with his and his sons' guns, which
he spread out before me--one hundred and five--six lions, four leopards,
seven otters, eight wolves, fourteen tiger-cats; the remainder made up
of gnu, springbok and blesbok, and a variety of other antelopes, all
shot within one hundred miles from the northern and western border of
Natal, over the Drakensberg mountains, besides a heap of ostrich
feathers of various kinds--a goodly bag of a seven months' trip. The
result of my cogitations with him was the procuring of a waggon and
fourteen trek oxen, with the usual gear--a horse, saddle and bridle,
with all sorts of odds and ends for cooking, water-casks, food of all
kinds, flour, biscuits, bread, mealies for the Kaffirs, tea, coffee,
sugar, preserves, and other necessaries needed for the road. A safe
driver and forelooper, and an extra boy to cook and look after the
horse, besides three rifles (not breechloaders, they were not known in
Natal in 1860) and a double-barrel Westley Richards, and any quantity of
ammunition. These three boys were all Zulus, with good characters,
therefore could be depended on, which is a great thing.
Being a "Colonial" I was well up to African life and the Zulu language--
a great advantage in that country. All things provided, I took several
trips round the country in my waggon, up to August 1863, when I started
north.
_Twenty-five years ago!--a quarter of a century_! What changes have
come over South Africa in that time! Natal was little-known and
scarcely heard of in England. The white population did not exceed
one-half its present number of 30,000, and the greater part was overrun
by Kaffirs, who were Zulus, similar to those of Zululand. Game of
various kinds in plenty, lions were common, elephants, buffaloes,
elands, wildebeests, quagga, and other antelopes, were numerous on the
plains and long flats; leopards--here called tigers--wolves, jackals,
and other beasts of prey, were heard nightly in the bush; and in the
open rolling plains, under the Drakensberg range of mountains, that
flank the western and northern boundary of the colony, springbok and
blesbok, quagga and the gnu could be counted in thousands. Where are
they now? Cleared from the face of the earth by the rifle, so that
scarcely one is left, and those preserved that they should not be
entirely exterminated. Beyond that magnificent and grand mountain range
that rises in parts ten thousand feet above the sea-level, and extending
several hundred miles in length, rearing its noble head far up in the
clouds, and looking down as if guarding the beautiful and peaceful Natal
at its feet. The scenery, especially on the western side, taking in the
Giant and Champagne Castle and the lofty peaks to the north, few
landscapes on earth can compare with it. Here the wild Bushmen lived in
all their pristine glory; their | 2,185.246329 |
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Internet Archive. See
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Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by plus signs is in bold face (+bold+).
Text enclosed by equal signs is transliterated Greek
(=Greek=)
A word that includes a superscript has been spelt out
in full.
Bell's English History Source Books
General Editors: S. E. WINBOLT, M.A., and KENNETH BELL, M.A.
WALPOLE AND CHATHAM (1714-1760)
Compiled by
KATHARINE A. ESDAILE
Some Time Scholar of Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford
[Illustration: bell]
London
G. Bell & Sons, Ltd.
1912
INTRODUCTION
This series of English History Source Books is intended for use with any
ordinary textbook of English History. Experience has conclusively shown
that such apparatus is a valuable--nay, an indispensable--adjunct to the
history lesson. It is capable of two main uses: either by way of lively
illustration at the close of a lesson, or by way of inference-drawing,
before the textbook is read, at the beginning of the lesson. The kind of
problems and exercises that may be based on the documents are legion,
and are admirably illustrated in a _History of England for Schools_,
Part I., by Keatinge and Frazer, pp. 377-381. However, we have no wish
to prescribe for the teacher the manner in which he shall exercise his
craft, but simply to provide him and his pupils with materials hitherto
not readily accessible for school purposes. The very moderate price of
the books in this series should bring them within the reach of every
secondary school. Source books enable the pupil to take a more active
part than hitherto in the history lesson. Here is the apparatus, the raw
material: its use we leave to teacher and taught.
Our belief is that the books may profitably be used by all grades of
historical students between the standards of fourth-form boys
in secondary schools and undergraduates at Universities. What
differentiates students at one extreme from those at the other is not so
much the kind of subject-matter dealt with, as the amount they can read
into or extract from it.
In regard to choice of subject-matter, while trying to satisfy the
natural demand for certain "stock" documents of vital importance, we
hope to introduce much fresh and novel matter. It is our intention that
the majority of the extracts should be lively in style--that is,
personal, or descriptive, or rhetorical, or even strongly partisan--and
should not so much profess to give the truth as supply data for
inference. We aim at the greatest possible variety, and lay under
contribution letters, biographies, ballads and poems, diaries, debates,
and newspaper accounts. Economics, London, municipal, and social life
generally, and local history, are represented in these pages.
The order of the extracts is strictly chronological, each being
numbered, titled, and dated, and its authority given. The text is
modernised, where necessary, to the extent of leaving no difficulties in
reading.
We shall be most grateful to teachers and students who may send us
suggestions for improvement.
S. E. WINBOLT.
KENNETH BELL.
NOTE TO THIS VOLUME
I have to thank the Editors of the _English Historical Review_ for
permission to reprint the passages dealing with the War of Jenkins' Ear,
published by Sir John Laughton in the fourth volume of the _Review_, and
the Scottish History Society for a similar permission with regard to the
Proclamation of James III. and the Landing of the Young Pretender. The
Letters of Horace Walpole are quoted throughout under the dates and
names of correspondents, not from any particular edition, as this
enables a letter to be found without difficulty in any edition;
otherwise the sources are given in full.
The lover of the eighteenth century is born, but he is also made. It is
the aim of this little book to help in the making.
K. A. E.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
STATE OF PARTIES AT THE QUEEN'S DEATH (1714) 1
PROCLAMATION OF GEORGE I. (1714) 4
CHARACTER AND PERSON OF GEORGE I. (1660-1727) 5
PUBLIC FEELING AS TO THE NEW DYNASTY (1714) 6
THE '15:
I. THE PRETENDER'S DECLARATION 9
II. THE PROCLAMATION OF JAMES III. 14
III. FAILURE OF THE EXPEDITION EXPLAINED 16
THE SEPTENNIAL ACT (1716) 18
DEFEAT OF THE SPANISH FLEET OFF SICILY BY ADMIRAL SIR GEORGE
BYNG, JULY 31, 1718 19
THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE (1720):
I. THE PROPOSALS: THE SECOND SCHEME OF THE SOUTH SEA COMPANY 21
II. THE BUBBLE BURST 25
SIR ROBERT WALPOLE AS PRIME MINISTER (1721-1741) 27
WOOD'S HALFPENCE: THE FIRST DRAPIER's LETTER (1724) 29
CHARACTER OF GEORGE II. (1683-1760) 36
THE CONDITION OF THE FLEET PRISON, AS REVEALED BY A PARLIAMENTARY
ENQUIRY (1729):
(_a_) DESCRIPTION OF THE WARDEN, THOMAS BAMBRIDGE 38
(_b_) HIS CRUELTY 39
(_c_) FINDINGS OF THE PARLIAMENTARY COMMITTEE 40
THE EXCISE BILL (1733) 42
THE PORTEOUS RIOTS (1736) 45
LORD CHESTERFIELD'S SPEECH ON THE BILL FOR THE ESTABLISHMENT
OF THE CENSORSHIP OF STAGE PLAYS (1737) 47
DEATH OF QUEEN CAROLINE (1737): HER CHARACTER DESCRIBED
BY GEORGE II. 49
THE WAR OF JENKINS' EAR (1739) 51
THE OPPOSITION SUSPECTS WALPOLE OF DOUBLE-DEALING (1739) 53
ADMIRAL VERNON'S VICTORY AT PORTOBELLO (1740):
I. "ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST" 55
II. "GREAT BRITAIN'S GLORY; OR, THE STAY-AT-HOME FLEET" 58
THE NEW MINISTERS (1742):
I. HERVEY'S ACCOUNT OF THE MINISTRY 58
II. EPIGRAM ON THE MINISTRY 60
III. EPIGRAM ON PULTENEY'S ACCEPTANCE OF A PEERAGE 60
THE ORIGIN OF THE SEVEN YEARS' WAR (1741-1748) 61
THE '45:
I. LANDING OF THE YOUNG PRETENDER; THE RAISING OF THE
STANDARD; SURRENDER OF EDINBURGH 65
II. TREATMENT OF THE VANQUISHED--
(_a_) AFTER PRESTON PANS 74
(_b_) AFTER CULLODEN 76
III. COLLINS'S "ODE WRITTEN IN THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR 1746" 79
IV. AN ADVENTURE OF CHARLES EDWARD 79
TRIAL OF THE REBEL LORDS (1746) 81
TREATY OF AIX-LA-CHAPELLE (1748):
I. LORD BOLINGBROKE ON THE PRELIMINARIES 84
II. THE ARTICLES OF PEACE 86
III. A CONTEMPORARY VIEW OF THE PEACE 88
LORD CHESTERFIELD'S ACT FOR THE REFORM OF THE CALENDAR (1751):
I. HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE BILL 89
II. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S OWN ACCOUNT 93
SMOLLETT'S CHARACTER OF THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE 94
THE TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF ADMIRAL BYNG (1759):
I. HORACE WALPOLE TO SIR HORACE MANN 97
II. THOMAS POTTER TO MR. GRENVILLE 101
THE COALITION GOVERNMENT OF 1757 102
THE ENGLISH IN INDIA (1757-1759):
I. THE BLACK HOLE OF CALCUTTA DESCRIBED BY A SURVIVOR 103
II. CLIVE TO PITT ON ENGLAND'S OPPORTUNITY 105
THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM, SEPTEMBER 13, 1759:
I. THE NIGHT ATTACK 109
II. THE BATTLE 110
"THE HEAVEN-BORN MINISTER": HORACE WALPOLE's HOMAGE TO PITT:
I. IN THE GREAT YEAR (1759) 113
II. CHARACTER OF WILLIAM PITT DESCRIBED IN THE LIGHT
OF SUBSEQUENT HISTORY 114
DEATH OF GEORGE II. (1760) 115
APPENDIX: LONDON IN 1725-1736:
(_a_) DEFOE'S DESCRIPTION OF LONDON IN 1725 117
(_b_) PRESENTMENT OF THE MIDDLESEX GRAND JURY (1736) 119
WALPOLE AND CHATHAM
1714-1760
STATE OF PARTIES AT THE QUEEN'S DEATH (1714).
+Source.+--_Letter to Sir William Windham_, Bolingbroke's Works, 1754.
Vol. i., pp. 28-31.
The thunder had long grumbled in the air, and yet when the bolt [the
Queen's death] fell, most of our party appeared as much surprised as if
they had had no reason to expect it. There was a perfect calm and
universal submission throughout the whole kingdom. The Chevalier indeed
set out as if his design had been to gain the coast and to embark for
Great Britain, and the Court of France made a merit to themselves of
stopping him and obliging him to return. But this, to my certain
knowledge, was a farce acted by concert, to keep up an opinion of his
character, when all opinion of his cause seemed to be at an end. He
owned this concert to me at Bar, on the occasion of my telling him that
he would have found no party ready to receive him, and that the
enterprise would have been to the last degree extravagant. He was at
this time far from having any encouragement: no party, numerous enough
to make the least disturbance, was formed in his favour. On the King's
arrival the storm arose. The menaces of the Whigs, backed by some very
rash declarations, by little circumstances of humor which frequently
offend more than real injuries, and by the entire change of all the
persons in employment, blew up the coals.
At first many of the tories had been made to entertain some faint hopes
that they would be permitted to live in quiet. I have been assured that
the King left Hanover in that resolution. Happy had it been for him and
for us if he had continued in it; if the moderation of his temper had
not been overborne by the violence of party, and his and the national
interest sacrificed to the passions of a few. Others there were among
the tories who had flattered themselves with much greater expectations
than these, and who had depended, not on such imaginary favor and
dangerous advancement as was offered them afterwards, but on real credit
and substantial power under the new government. Such impressions on the
minds of men had rendered the two houses of parliament, which were then
sitting, as good courtiers to King George, as ever they had been to
queen Anne. But all these hopes being at once and with violence
extinguished, despair succeeded in their room.
Our party began soon to act like men delivered over to their passions,
and unguided by any other principle; not like men fired by a just
resentment and a reasonable ambition to a bold undertaking. They treated
the government like men who were resolved not to live under it, and yet
they took no one measure to support themselves against it. They
expressed, without reserve or circumspection, an eagerness to join in
any attempt against the establishment which they had received and
confirmed, and which many of them had courted but a few weeks before:
and yet in the midst of all this bravery, when the election of the new
parliament came on, some of these very men acted with the coolness of
those who are much better disposed to compound than to take arms.
The body of the tories being in this temper, it is not to be wondered
at, if they heated one another and began apace to turn their eyes
towards the pretender: and if those few, who had already engaged with
him, applied themselves to improve the conjuncture and endeavour to lift
a party for him.
I went, about a month after the queen's death, as soon as the seals were
taken from me, into the country, and whilst I continued there, I felt
the general disposition to jacobitism encrease daily among people of all
ranks; among several who had been constantly distinguished by their
aversion to that cause. But at my return to London in the month of
February or March one thousand seven hundred and fifteen, a few weeks
before I left England, I began for the first time in my whole life to
perceive these general dispositions ripen into resolutions, and to
observe some regular workings among many of our principal friends, which
denoted a scheme of this kind. These workings, indeed, were very faint,
for the persons concerned in carrying them on did not think it safe to
speak too plainly to men who were, in truth, ill disposed to the
government, because they neither found their account at present under
it, nor had been managed with art enough to leave them hopes of finding
it hereafter: but who at the same time had not the least affection for
the pretender's person, nor any principle favorable to his interest.
This was the state of things when the new parliament, which his majesty
had called, assembled. A great majority of the elections had gone in
favour of the Whigs, to which the want of concert among the tories had
contributed as much as the vigor of that party, and the influence of the
new government. The whigs came to the opening of this parliament full of
as much violence as could possess men who expected to make their court,
to confirm themselves in power, and to gratify their resentments by the
same measures. I have heard that it was a dispute among the ministers
how far this spirit should be indulged, and that the king was
determined, or confirmed in determination, to consent to the
prosecutions, and to give the reins to the party by the representations
that were made to him, that great difficulties would arise in the
conduct of the session, if the court should appear inclined to check
this spirit, and by Mr. W[alpole]'s undertaking to carry all the
business successfully through the house of commons if they were at
liberty. Such has often been the unhappy fate of our princes; a real
necessity sometimes, and sometimes a seeming one, has forced them to
compound with a part of the nation at the expense of the whole; and the
success of their business for one year has been purchased at the price
of public disorder for many.
The conjecture I am speaking of forms a memorable instance of this
truth. If milder measures had been pursued, certain it is, that the
tories had never universally embraced jacobitism. The violence of the
whigs forced them into the arms of the pretender. The court and the
party seemed to vie with one another which should go the greatest
lengths in severity: and the ministers, whose true interest it must at
all times be to calm the minds of men, and who ought never to set the
examples of extraordinary inquiries or extraordinary accusations, were
upon this occasion the tribunes of the people.
PROCLAMATION OF GEORGE I. (1714).
+Source.+--Oldmixon's _History of England, George I._, 1735. P. 564.
Whereas it hath pleas'd Almighty God to call to his Mercy our late
Soveraign Lady Queen _Anne_, of blessed Memory; by whose Decease, the
Imperial Crowns of _Great Britain_, _France_, and _Ireland_, are solely,
and rightfully come to the High and Mighty Prince _George_, elector of
_Brunswick-Lunenburg_: We therefore, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal of
the Realm, being here assisted with those of her late Majesty's Privy
Council, with Numbers of other principal gentlemen of Quality, with the
Lord-Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens of _London_, do now hereby, with one
full Voice and Consent of Tongue and Heart, publish and proclaim, That
the high and mighty Prince _George_, Elector of _Brunswick-Lunenburg_,
is now, by the Death of our late Soveraign of happy Memory, become our
lawful and rightful Liege Lord, _George_, by the Grace of God, King of
_Great Britain_, _France_ and _Ireland_, Defender of the Faith, _&c._ To
whom we do acknowledge all Faith and constant Obedience, with all hearty
and humble Affection, beseeching God, by whom Kings and Queens do reign,
to bless the Royal King _George_ with long and happy years to reign over
us.
Given at the Palace of St. _James's_,
the First Day of _August, 1714_.
GOD SAVE THE KING.
[Then follow the signatures of 127 peers and commoners, "Lords and
Gentlemen who signed the Proclamation," including Lords Buckingham,
Shrewsbury, Oxford, Bolingbroke, and Sir Christopher Wren.]
CHARACTER AND PERSON OF GEORGE I. (1660-1727).
A. BY LORD CHESTERFIELD.
+Source.+--Lord Chesterfield (1694-1774), _Characters of Eminent Persons
of His own Time_, 1777. P. 9.
George the First was an honest and dull German gentleman, as unfit as
unwilling to act the part of a King, which is, to shine and oppress.
Lazy and inactive even in his pleasures; which were therefore lowly and
sensual: He was coolly intrepid, and indolently benevolent. He was
diffident of his own parts, which made him speak little in public[1] and
prefer in his social, which were his favourite, hours, the company of
waggs and buffoons.... His views and affections were singly confined to
the narrow compass of his electorate.--England was too big for him.--If
he had nothing great as a King, he had nothing bad as a Man--and if he
does not adorn, at least he will not stain the annals of this country.
In private life, he would have been loved and esteemed as a good
citizen, a good friend, and a good neighbour.--Happy were it for Europe,
happy for the world, if there were not greater Kings in it!
B. BY HORACE WALPOLE.
+Source.+--_Reminiscences_, in _Works of Horace Walpole_, Earl of
Oxford, 1798. Vol. iv., p. 275; _Letter to Sir Horace Mann, Feb. 25,
1782_.
"At ten years old [_i.e._, in 1727] I had set my heart on seeing George
I., and being a favourite child, my mother asked leave for me to be
presented to him; which to the First Minister's wife was granted, and I
was carried by the late Lady Chesterfield to kiss his hand as he went to
supper in the Duchess of Kendal's apartment. This was the night but one
before he left England the last time."
"The person of the King is as perfect in my memory as if I saw him but
yesterday. It was that of an elderly man, rather pale, and exactly like
his pictures and coins, not tall, of an aspect rather good than august,
with a dark tie wig, a plain coat, waistcoat and breeches of
snuff- cloth, with stockings of the same colour and a blue
riband over all."
[1] Lord Chesterfield does not mention that George I. spoke no
English.--ED.
PUBLIC FEELING AS TO THE NEW DYNASTY (1714).
A. WHIG.
+Source.+--_Letters of Lady M. W. Montagu._ Vol. 1., p. 86. Bohn's
edition.
_Aug. 9, 1714._
The Archbishop of York has been come to Bishopsthorpe but three days. I
went with my cousin to see the King proclaimed, which was done, the
archbishop walking next the Lord Mayor, all the country gentry
following, with greater crowds of people than I believed to be in York,
vast acclamations, and the appearance of a general satisfaction. The
Pretender afterwards dragged about the streets and burned. Ringing of
bells, bonfires, and illuminations, the mob crying Liberty and Property!
and Long live King George! This morning all the principal men of any
figure took port for London, and we are alarmed with the fear of
attempts from Scotland, though all Protestants here seem unanimous for
the Hanover succession.
B. TORY.
+Source.+--Thomas Hearne [1678-1735], _Reliquiae Hearnianae_, 1869. Vol. i.,
pp. 303, 309.
_Aug. 4._--This day, at two o'clock, the said elector of Brunswick (who
is in the fifty-fifth year of his age, being born May 28th, 1660) was
proclaimed in Oxford. The vice-chancellor, and doctors, and masters met
in the convocation house, and from thence went to St. Mary's, to attend
at the solemnity. There was but a small appearance of doctors and
masters that went from the convocation house. I stood in the Bodleian
gallery where I observed them. Dr. Hudson was amongst them, and all the
heads of houses in town. But there were a great many more doctors and
masters at St. Marie's, where a scaffold was erected for them.
_Aug. 5._--The illumination and rejoicing in Oxford was very little last
night. The proclamation was published at Abingdon also yesterday, but
there was little appearance.
A letter having been put into the mayor of Oxford's hands before he
published the proclamation, cautioning him against proclaiming King
George, and advising him to proclaim the pretender by the name of King
James III., the said Mayor, notwithstanding, proclaimed King George, and
yesterday our vice-chancellor, and heads, and proctors, agreed to a
reward of an hundred pounds to be paid to anyone that should discover
the author or authors of the letter; and the order for the same being
printed I have inserted a copy of it here.
"_At a general meeting of the vice-chancellor, heads of houses, and
proctors of the university of Oxford, at the Apodyterium of the
Convocation House, on Wednesday, Aug. 4, 1714._
"Whereas a letter directed to Mr. Mayor of the city of Oxford,
containing treasonable matters, was delivered at his house on Monday
night last, betwixt nine and ten of the clock, by a person in an
open-sleeved gown, and in a cinnamon- coat, as yet unknown:
which letter has been communicated to Mr. Vice-Chancellor by the said
Mayor: if any one will discover the author or authors of the said
letter, or the person who delivered it, so as he or they may be brought
to justice, he shall have a reward of one hundred pounds, to be paid
him forthwith by Mr. Vice-Chancellor.
"BERNARD GARDINER, Vice-Chancellor."
The letter to which the vice-chancellor's programme refers:
OXON, _August 2nd, 1714_.
MR. MAYOR,
If you are so honest a man as to prefer your duty and allegiance to your
lawfull sovereign before the fear of danger, you will not need this
caution, which comes from your friends to warn you, if you should
receive an order to proclaim Hannover, not to comply with it. For the
hand of God is now at work to set things upon a right foot, and in a few
days you will find wonderfull changes, which if you are wise enough to
foresee, you will obtain grace and favour from the hands of his sacred
majestie king James, by proclaiming him voluntarily, which otherwise you
will be forced to do with disgrace. If you have not the courage to do
this, at least for your own safety delay proclaiming Hannover as long as
you can under pretense of sickness or some other reason. For you cannot
do it without certain hazard of your life, be you ever so well guarded.
I, who am but secretary to the rest, having a particular friendship for
you, and an opinion of your honesty and good inclinations to his
majestie's service, have prevailed with them to let me give you this
warning. If you would know who the rest are, our name is
LEGION, _and we are many_.
This note shall be your sufficient warrant in times to come for
proclaiming his majestie King James, and if this does not satisfie you,
upon your first publick notice we will do it in person.
For Mr. Broadwater, mayor of the City of Oxford, these.
_Sept. 25._--On Monday last (Sept. 20th) King George (as he is styled)
with his son (who is in the 31st year of his age, and is called prince
of Wales, he having been so created), entered London, and came to the
palace of St. James's, attended with several thousands. It was observed
that the Duke of Marlborough was more huzza'd, upon this occasion, than
King George, and that the acclamation, _God save the Duke of
Marlborough!_ was more frequently repeated than _God save the king!_ In
the evening the illuminations and bonfires were not many. King George
hath begun to change all the ministers, and to put in the _whiggs_,
every post bringing us news of this alteration, to the grievous
mortification of that party called _tories_. The duke of Marlborough is
made captain general of all the forces in room of the duke of Ormond,
not to mention the other great changes. But the tories must thank
themselves for all this, they having acted whilst in power very
unworthily, and instead of preferring worthy scholars and truly honest
men, they put in the quite contrary, and indeed behaved themselves with
very little courage or integrity. I am sorry to write this; but 'tis too
notorious, and they therefore very deservedly suffer now. They have
acted contrary to their principles, and must therefore expect to smart.
But the whiggs, as they have professed bad principles, so they have
acted accordingly, not in the least receding from what they have laid
down as principles. 'Tis to be hoped the tories may now at last see
their folly, and may resolve to act steadily and uniformly, and to
provide for, and take care of, one another, and with true courage and
resolution endeavour to retrieve credit and reputation by practising
those doctrines which will make for the service of the king, and of the
whole nation, and not suffer those enemies the whiggs utterly to ruin
their country, as they have done almost already.
THE '15.
I.
THE PRETENDER'S DECLARATION (1715).
+Source.+--A. Boyer's _Political State of Great Britain_, 1720. Vol. x.,
pp. 626-630.
_His Majesty's Most Gracious Declaration._
JAMES R.
James VIII. by the Grace of God, of Scotland, England, France and
Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith &c. To all Our Loving Subjects of
What Degree or Quality soever. Greeting. As we are firmly resolved never
to lose any Opportunity of asserting Our undoubted Title to the Imperial
Crown of these Realms, and of endeavouring to get the Possession of that
Right which is devolv'd upon Us by the Laws of God and Man: so we must
in Justice to the Sentiments of our Heart declare, That nothing in the
World can give Us so great satisfaction, as to owe to the Endeavours of
Our Loyal Subjects both our own and their Restoration to that happy
Settlement which can alone deliver this Church and Nation from the
Calamities which they lie at present under, and from those future
Miseries which must be the Consequences of the present usurpation.
During the Life of Our dear Sister, of Glorious Memory, the Happiness
which Our People enjoy'd softened in some Degree the Hardship of our own
Fate; and we must further confess, That when we reflected on the
Goodness of her Nature, and her Inclination to Justice, we could not but
persuade Our Self, that she intended to establish and perpetuate the
Peace which she had given to these Kingdoms by destroying for ever all
Competition to the Succession of the Crown, and by securing to us, at
last, the Enjoyment of the Inheritance out of which We had been so long
kept, which her Conscience must inform her was our Due, and which her
Principles must bend her to desire that We might obtain.
But since the Time that it pleased Almighty God to put a Period to her
Life, and not to suffer Us to throw Our Self, as We then fully purposed
to have done, upon Our People, We have not been able to look upon the
Present Condition of Our Kingdoms, or to consider their Future Prospect,
without all the Horror and Indignation which ought to fill the Breast of
every Scotsman.
We have beheld a Foreign Family, Aliens to our Country, distant in
Blood, and Strangers even to our Language, ascend the Throne.
We have seen the Reins of Government put into the Hands of a Faction,
and that Authority which was design'd for the Protection of All,
exercis'd by a Few of the Worst, to the oppression of the Best and
Greatest number of our Subjects. Our Sister has not been left at Rest in
her Grave; her name has been scurrilously abused, her Glory, as far as
in these People lay, insolently defaced, and her faithful Servants
inhumanely persecuted. A Parliament has been procur'd by the most
Unwarrantable Influences, and by the Grossest Corruptions, to serve the
Vilest Ends, and they who ought to be the Guardians of the Liberties of
the People, are become the Instruments of Tyranny. Whilst the Principal
Powers, engaged in the Late Wars, enjoy the Blessings of Peace, and are
attentive to discharge their Debts, and ease their People, Great
Britain, in the Midst of Peace, feels all the Load of a War. New Debts
are contracted, New Armies are raised at Home, Dutch Forces are brought
into these Kingdoms, and, by taking Possession of the Dutchy of Bremen,
in Violation of the Public Faith, a Door is opened by the Usurper to let
in an Inundation of Foreigners from Abroad and to reduce these Nations
to the State of a Province, to one of the most inconsiderable Provinces
of the Empire.
These are some few of the many real Evils into which these Kingdoms have
been betrayed, under Pretence of being rescued and secured from Dangers
purely imaginary, and these are such Consequences of abandoning the Old
constitution, as we persuade Our Selves very many of those who promoted
the present unjust and illegal Settlement, never intended.
We observe, with the utmost Satisfaction, that the Generality of Our
Subjects are awaken'd with a just Sense of their Danger, and that they
shew themselves disposed to take such Measures as may effectually rescue
them from that Bondage which has, by the Artifice of a few designing
Men, and by the Concurrence of many unhappy Causes, been brought upon
them.
We adore the Wisdom of the Divine Providence, which has opened a Way to
our Restoration, by the Success of those very Measures that were laid to
disappoint us for ever: And we must earnestly conjure all Our Loving
Subjects, not to suffer that Spirit to faint or die away, which has been
so miraculously raised in all Parts of the Kingdom, but to pursue with
all the Vigour and Hopes of Success, which so just and righteous a Cause
ought to inspire, those methods, which The Finger of God seems to point
out to them.
We are come to take Our Part in all the Dangers and Difficulties to
which any of Our Subjects, from the Greatest down to the Meanest, may be
exposed on this important Occasion, to relieve Our Subjects of Scotland
from the Hardships they groan under on account of the late unhappy
Union; and to restore the Kingdom in its ancient, free | 2,185.252686 |
2023-11-16 18:53:29.2328060 | 3,135 | 11 |
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
In the Whirl of the Rising, by Bertram Mitford.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
IN THE WHIRL OF THE RISING, BY BERTRAM MITFORD.
PROLOGUE.
"You coward!"
The word cut crisply and sharp through the clear frosty air, lashing and
keen as the wind that stirred the crystal-spangled pines, and the
musical ring of skate-blades upon the ice-bound surface of the mere.
She who uttered it stood, her flower-like face and deep blue eyes all
a-quiver with contemptuous disgust. He to whom it was addressed,
started, blenched ever so slightly, his countenance immediately resuming
its mask of bronze impassibility. Those who heard it echoed it,
secretly or in deep and angry mutter, the while proceeding with their
task--to wit, the restoring of animation to a very nearly drowned human
being, rescued, at infinite risk, from the treacherous spring hole which
had let him through the surface of the ice.
"Say it again," was the answer. "It is such a kind and pleasant thing
to hear, coming from you. So just, too. Do say it again."
"I will say it again," went on the first speaker; and, exasperated by
the bitter sneering tone of the other, her voice rang out high and
clear, "You coward!"
Piers Lamont's dark face took on a change, but it expressed a sneer as
certain retrospective pictures rose before his mental gaze. Such
indeed, in his case, drew the sting of about the most stinging epithet
that lips can frame; yet, remembering that the lips then framing it were
those of the girl with whom he was passionately in love, and to whom he
had recently become engaged, it seemed to hurt.
"Say something. Oh, do say something!" she went on, speaking quickly.
"The boy might have been drowned, and very nearly was, while you stood,
with your hands in your pockets, looking on."
"If your people see fit to throw open the mere to the rabble, the rabble
must take care of itself," he answered. "I daresay I can risk my life,
with an adequate motive. That--isn't one."
The words, audible to many of the bystanders, the contemptuous tone, and
nod of the head in the direction of the ever-increasing group on the
bank, deepened the prevailing indignation. Angry murmurs arose, and
some "booing." Perhaps the presence of the Squire's daughter alone
restrained this demonstration from taking a more active form of
hostility; or it may even have been a something in the hard, bronzed
face and firm build of the man who had just been publicly dubbed
"coward."
"For shame!" hotly retorted the girl. "I have no wish to talk to you
any more, or ever again. Please go."
He made no reply. Lifting his hat ceremoniously he turned away. A few
yards' glide brought him to the bank. He sat down, deliberately removed
his skates, lit a cigar, then started upon his way; the no-longer
restrained jeers which followed him falling upon his ears with no other
effect than to cause him to congratulate himself upon having given
others the opportunity of performing the feat from which he had
refrained.
The subject of all this disturbance was showing signs of restoration to
life and consciousness. Seen in the midst of the gaping--and for the
most part useless--crowd which hemmed him in, he was an urchin of about
thirteen or fourteen, with a debased type of countenance wherein the
characteristics of the worst phase of guttersnipe--low cunning,
predatoriness, boundless impudence, and aggressive brutality--showed
more than incipient. Such a countenance was it, indeed, as to suggest
that the rescue of its owner from a watery death went far to prove the
truth of a certain homely proverb relating to hanging and drowning. And
now, gazing upon it, Violet Courtland was conscious of an unpleasant
truth in those last words spoken by her _fiance_. She was forced to own
to herself that the saving of this life assuredly was not worth the
risking of his. Yet she had implored him to do something towards the
rescue, and he had done nothing. He had replied that there was nothing
to be done; had stood, calmly looking on while others had risked their
lives, he fearing for his. Yes, _fearing_. It looked like that.
And yet--and yet! She knew but little of his past, except what he had
told her. She had taken him on trust. He had led something of an
adventurous life in wild parts of Africa. Two or three times, under
pressure, he had told of an adventurous incident, wherein assuredly he
himself had not played a coward's part. Yet the recollection so far
from clearing him in her estimation produced a contrary effect, and her
lips curled as she decided that he had merely been bragging on these
occasions; that if the events had happened at all they must have
happened to somebody else. For, when all was said and done, he had
shown himself a coward in her sight. Her hastily formed judgment
stood--if anything--stronger than before. And--she was engaged to marry
a coward!
With a sad sinking of heart she left the spot, and, avoiding all escort
or companionship, took her way homeward alone. The short winter
afternoon was waning, and a red afterglow was already fast fading into
the grey of dusk. Against it the chimney stacks of Courtland Hall stood
silhouetted blackly, while farther down, among the leafless and frost
spangled tree-tops, the old church-tower stood square and massive.
It was Christmas Eve, and now the bells in the tower rang out in sudden
and tuneful chime, flinging their merry peal far and wide over leafless
woodland and frozen meadow. They blended, too, with the ring of belated
blades on the ice-bound mere behind, and the sound of voices mellowed by
distance. To this girl, now hurrying along the field path, her little
skates dangling from her wrist, but for the events of the last half-hour
how sweet and hallowed and homelike it would all have been; glorified,
too, by the presence of _one_! Now, anger, disgust, contempt filled her
mind; and her heart was aching and sore with the void of an ideal cast
out.
One was there as she struck into the garden path leading up to the
terrace. He was pacing up and down smoking a cigar.
"Well?" he said, turning suddenly upon her. "Well, and have you had
time to reconsider your very hastily expressed opinion?"
"It was not hastily expressed. It was deliberate," she replied quickly.
"I have no words for a coward. I said that before."
"Yes, you said that before--for the amusement of a mob of grunting
yokels, and an odd social equal or two. And now you repeat it. Very
well. Think what you please. It is utterly immaterial to me now and
henceforward. I will not even say good-bye."
He walked away from her in the other direction, while she passed on. A
half impulse was upon her to linger, to offer him an opportunity of
explanation. Somehow there was that about his personality which seemed
to belie her judgment upon him. But pride, perversity, superficiality
of the deductive faculty, triumphed. She passed on without a word.
The hour was dark for Piers Lamont--dark indeed. He was a hardened man,
and a strong-willed one, but now he needed all his hardness, all his
strength. He had loved this girl passionately and almost at first
sight, secretly and at a distance for some time before accident had
brought about their engagement, now a matter of three months' duration.
And she had returned his love in full, or had seemed to, until this
disastrous afternoon. And now his sense of justice was cruelly
outraged, and that he felt as if he could never forgive. Moreover, his
was one of those natures to which an occurrence of this kind was like
chipping a piece out of a perfect and valuable vase or statue. The
piece may be restored, but, however skilfully such be done, the rift
remains, the object is no longer perfect. It is probable that at that
moment he felt more bitterly towards Violet than she did towards him,
which is saying a great deal. He had been rudely thrown out of his
fool's paradise, and with grim resolution he must accept the position
and live down the loss. But the flower-like face, and the deep blue
eyes which had brimmed up at him with love, and the soft, wavy brown
hair which had pillowed against his breast in restful trust--could he
ever tear the recollection from his mind? Pest take those jangling
Christmas bells though, cleaving the night with their mockery of peace
and good-will!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Here, Violet. What the dickens is the meaning of this?" said her
father, an hour or two later, as he met her going upstairs to dress for
dinner. "Here's Lamont cleared at a moment's notice, without the
civility even to say good-bye. Leaves this,"--holding out an open
letter--"saying he's been called away on urgent business--a qualified
lie you know, because no one does business on Christmas Day, and it's
nearly that now--and won't be able to return; may have to go abroad
immediately; and all the stock balderdash men write under the
circumstances; though how they imagine anybody is going to be such an
idiot as to believe them, I can't make out. Now, _you_ are at the back
of all this. Had a row?"
"Oh, I don't care to talk about it," she said, with a movement as though
to pass on.
"But you must care to talk about it, my dear girl; at any rate for my
satisfaction. You had to consult me, didn't you, in order to bring
about this engagement? and now if you've thrown the man over--and it
looks deucedly as if you had--I've a right to know why. Here--come in
here."
Squire Courtland was by no means of the type usually described as "one
of the old school," except in so far that he was very much master in his
own house. For the rest, he prided himself on being exceedingly
up-to-date--and his estimate of woman was almost savage in its cynicism.
Between himself and Violet there was an utter lack of sympathy;
resulting, now that she was grown up, in an occasional and very
unpleasant passage of arms.
"If I've thrown the man over!" quoted Violet angrily, when they were
alone in her father's own private `den,' "of course you are sure to take
his part."
"I must know what `his part' is before taking it or not. You women
always expect us to hang a man first and try him afterwards; or rather
to hang him on your sweet evidence alone, and not try him at all."
"Oh, father, please don't talk to me in that horrid tone," restraining
with vast effort the paroxysm of sobbing which threatened, and which she
knew would only irritate him. "I am not feeling so extra happy, I can
tell you."
"Well, get it over then. What has Lamont done?"
"I can't marry a coward."
"Eh? A coward? Lamont? Have you taken leave of your senses, girl?"
"Well, listen. You shall hear," she said crisply. And then she gave
him an account of the whole affair.
"Is that all?" he said when she had done.
"All?"
"Yes. All?"
"Yes, it is. I don't see what more there could be. I urged him to try
and save the boy, and he refused. Refused!"
"And, by the Lord, he was right!" cried the Squire. "The answer he gave
you was absolutely the right one, my child. If it had been yourself
you'd have seen how he'd have gone in, but for a man of Lamont's strong
common-sense to go and throw away his life for a gallows' brat that has
only been fished out of the mere to be hanged later on in due course--
why, I'm glad he's justified the good opinion I had of him."
"Then, father, you think he was justified in refusing to save life under
any circumstances?" said Violet, very white and hard. There was no fear
of her breaking down now. The fact of her father siding so entirely
with her cast-off lover was as a tonic. It hardened and braced her.
"Certainly I do. He gave you the right answer, and on your own showing
you insulted him--taking advantage of being a woman--several times over,
for the fun of a squalid rabble that I am fool enough to allow to come
and disport themselves on my property; but I'll have them all cleared
off tomorrow. Coward, indeed! Lamont a coward! No--no. That won't
do. I know men too well for that."
"Then he was a brute instead," retorted Violet, lashing herself into
additional anger, as a dismal misgiving assailed her that she might have
made a hideous and lifelong error of judgment. "A coldblooded,
calculating brute, and that's just as bad."
"I don't fancy you'll get many to agree with you as to the last, my
dear. Any man would rather be a brute than a coward," said the Squire
s | 2,185.252846 |
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Produced by David Widger
THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER
BY
MARK TWAIN
(Samuel Langhorne Clemens)
Part 3
CHAPTER VIII
TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of
the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He
crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing
juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour
later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of
Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off
in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless
way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading
oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had
even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was
broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a
woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense
of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in
melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He
sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands,
meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and
he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be
very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and
ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the
grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve
about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he
could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl.
What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been
treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe
when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY!
But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one
constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift
insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned
his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever
so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came
back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown
recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and
jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves
upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the
romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all
war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians,
and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the
trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come
back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and
prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a
bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions
with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than
this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain
before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would
fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go
plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the
Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at
the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village
and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet
doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt
bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his
slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull
and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings,
"It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!"
Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from
home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore
he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources
together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under
one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded
hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incant | 2,185.254754 |
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Produced by Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
MARJORIE'S NEW FRIEND
BY
CAROLYN WELLS
Author of the "Patty" Books
[Illustration: "'HERE'S THE BOOK', SAID MISS HART.... 'HOW MANY LEAVES
HAS IT!'"]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. A BOTHERSOME BAG
II. A WELCOME CHRISTMAS GIFT
III. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
IV. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
V. A TEARFUL TIME
VI. THE GOING OF GLADYS
VII. THE COMING OF DELIGHT
VIII. A VISIT TO CINDERELLA
IX. A STRAW-RIDE
X. MAKING VALENTINES
XI. MARJORIE CAPTIVE
XII. MISS HART HELPS
XIII. GOLDFISH AND KITTENS
XIV. A PLEASANT SCHOOL
XV. A SEA TRIP
XVI. A VALENTINE PARTY
XVII. A JINKS AUCTION
XVIII. HONEST CONFESSION
XIX. A VISIT FROM GLADYS
XX. CHESSY CATS
CHAPTER I
A BOTHERSOME BAG
"Mother, are you there?"
"Yes, Marjorie; | 2,185.558461 |
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Produced by Diane Monico 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.)
CUTTING IT OUT
_In Press_
_By the Same Author_
THE FUN OF GETTING THIN
CUTTING IT OUT
HOW TO GET ON THE WATERWAGON
AND STAY THERE
BY
SAMUEL G. BLYTHE
[Illustration: (publisher's symbol)]
CHICAGO
FORBES & COMPANY
1912
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY
THE CURTIS PUBLISHING CO.
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY
FORBES AND COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Why I Quit 9
II. How I Quit 21
III. What I Quit 31
IV. When I Quit 45
V. After I Quit 57
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
This work originally appeared in _The Saturday Evening Post_ under the
title "On the Water-Wagon."
CUTTING IT OUT
CHAPTER I
WHY I QUIT
First off, let me state the object of the meeting: This is to be a
record of sundry experiences centering round a stern resolve to get on
the waterwagon and a sterner attempt to stay there. It is an entirely
personal narrative of a strictly personal set of circumstances. It is
not a temperance lecture, or a temperance tract, or a chunk of advice,
or a shuddering recital of the woes of a horrible example, or a
warning, or an admonition--or anything at all but a plain tale of an
adventure that started out rather vaguely and wound up rather
satisfactorily.
I am no brand that was snatched from the burning; no sot who picked
himself or was picked from the gutter; no drunkard who almost wrecked a
promising career; no constitutional or congenital souse. I drank liquor
the same way hundreds of thousands of men drink it--drank liquor and
attended to my business, and got along well, and kept my health, and
provided for my family, and maintained my position in the community. I
felt I had a perfect right to drink liquor just as I had a perfect
right to stop drinking it. I never considered my drinking in any way
immoral.
I was decent, respectable, a gentleman, who drank only with gentlemen
and as a gentleman should drink if he pleases. I didn't care whether
any one else drank--and do not now. I didn't care whether any one else
cared whether I drank--and do not now. I am no reformer, no lecturer,
no preacher. I quit because I wanted to, not because I had to. I didn't
swear off, nor take any vow, nor sign any pledge. I am no moral censor.
It is even possible that I might go out this afternoon and take a
drink. I am quite sure I shall not--but I might. As far as my trip
into Teetotal Land is concerned, it is an individual proposition and
nothing else. I am no example for other men who drink as much as I did,
or more, or less--but I assume my experiences are somewhat typical, for
I am sure my drinking was very typical; and a recital of those
experiences and the conclusions thereon is what is before the house.
I quit drinking because I quit drinking. I had a very fair batting
average in the Booze League--as good as I thought necessary; and I knew
if I stopped when my record was good the situation would be
satisfactory to me, whether it was to any other person or not.
Moreover, I figured it out that the time to stop drinking was when it
wasn't necessary to stop--not when it was necessary. I had been
observing during the twenty years I had been drinking, more or less,
and I had known a good many men who stopped drinking when the doctors
told them to. Furthermore, it had been my observation that when a
doctor tells a man to stop drinking it usually doesn't make much
difference whether he stops or not. In a good many cases he might just
as well keep on and die happily, for he's going to die anyhow; and the
few months he will grab through his abstinence will not amount to
anything when the miseries of that abstinence are duly chalked up in
the debit column.
Therefore, applying the cold, hard logic of the situation to it, I
decided to beat the liquor to it.
That was the reason for stopping--purely selfish, personal, individual,
and not concerned with the welfare of any other person on earth--just
myself. I had taken good care of myself physically and I knew I was
sound everywhere. I wasn't sure how long I could keep sound and
continue drinking. So I decided to stop drinking and keep sound. I
noticed that a good many men of the same age as myself and the same
habits as myself were beginning to show signs of wear and tear. A
number of them blew up with various disconcerting maladies and a number
more died. Soon after I was forty years of age I noticed I began to go
to funerals oftener than I had been doing--funerals of men between
forty and forty-five I had known socially and convivially; that these
funerals occurred quite regularly, and that the doctor's certificate,
more times than not, gave Bright's Disease and other similar diseases
in the cause-of-death column. All of these funerals were of men who
were good fellows, and we mourned their loss. Also we generally took a
few drinks to their memories.
Then came a time when this funeral business landed on me like a
pile-driver. Inside of a year four or five of the men I had known best,
the men I had loved best, the men who had been my real friends and my
companions, died, one after another. Also some other friends developed
physical derangements I knew were directly traceable to too much
liquor. Both the deaths and the derangements had liquor as a
contributing if not as a direct cause. Nobody said that, of course; but
I knew it.
So I held a caucus with myself. I called myself into convention and
discussed the proposition somewhat like this:
"You are now over forty years of age. You are sound physically and you
are no weaker mentally than you have always been, so far as can be
discovered by the outside world. You have had a lot of fun, much of it
complicated with the conviviality that comes with drinking and much of
it not so complicated; but you have done your share of plain and fancy
drinking, and it hasn't landed you yet. There is absolutely no
nutriment in being dead. That gets you nothing save a few obituary
notices you will never see. There is even less in being sick and
sidling around in everybody's way. It's as sure as sunset, if you keep
on at your present gait, that Mr. John Barleycorn will land you just
as he has landed a lot of other people you know and knew. There are two
methods of procedure open to you. One is to keep it up and continue
having the fun you think you are having and take what is inevitably
coming to you. The other is to quit it while the quitting is good and
live a few more years--that may not be so rosy, but probably will have
compensations."
I viewed it from every angle I could think of. I knew what sort of a
job I had laid out to tackle if I quit. I weighed the whole thing in my
mind in the light of my acquaintances, my experiences, my position, my
mode of life, my business. I had been through it many times. I had
often gone on the waterwagon for periods varying in length from three
days to three months. I wasn't venturing into any uncharted territory.
I knew every signpost, every crossroad, every foot of the ground. I
knew the difficulties--knew them by heart. I wasn't deluding myself
with any assertions of superior will-power or superior courage--or
superior anything. I knew I had a fixed daily habit of drinking, and
that if I quit drinking I should have to reorganize the entire works.
CHAPTER II
HOW I QUIT
This took some time. I didn't dash into it. I had done that before, and
had dashed out again just as impetuously. I revolved the matter in my
mind for some weeks. Then I decided to quit. Then I did quit. Thereby
hangs this tale.
I went to a dinner one night that was a good dinner. It was a dinner
that had every appurtenance that a good dinner should have, including
the best things to drink that could be obtained, and lashings of them.
I proceeded at that dinner just as I had proceeded at scores of similar
dinners in my time--hundreds of them, I guess--and took a drink every
time anybody else did. I was a seasoned drinker. I knew how to do it. I
went home that night pleasantly jingled, but no more. I slept well, ate
a good breakfast and went down to business. On the way down I decided
that this was the day to make the plunge. Having arrived at that
decision, I went out about three o'clock that afternoon, drank a Scotch
highball--a big, man's-sized one--as a doch-an-doris, and quit. That
was almost a year ago. I haven't taken a drink since. It is not my
present intention ever to take another drink; but I am not tying myself
down by any vows. It is not my present intention, I say; and I let it
go at that.
No man can be blamed for trying to fool other people about
himself--that is the way most of us get past; but what can be said for
a man who tries to fool himself? Every man knows exactly how bogus he
is and should admit it--to himself only. The man who, knowing his
bogusness, refuses to admit it to himself--no matter what his attitude
may be to the outside world--simply stores up trouble for himself, and
discomfort and much else. There are many phases of personal
understanding of oneself that need not be put in the newspapers or
proclaimed publicly. Still, for a man to gold-brick himself is a
profitless undertaking, but prevalent notwithstanding.
When it comes to fooling oneself by oneself, the grandest performers
are the boys who have a habit--no matter what kind of a habit--a habit!
It may be smoking cigarettes, or walking pigeontoed, or talking through
the nose, or drinking--or anything else. Any man can see with half an
eye how drinking, for example, is hurting Jones; but he always argues
that his own personal drinking is of a different variety and is doing
him no harm. The best illustration of it is in the old vaudeville
story, where the man came on the stage and said: "Smith is drinking too
much! I never go into a saloon without finding him there!"
That is the reason drinking liquor gets so many people--either by
wrecking their health or by fastening on them the habit they cannot
stop. They fool themselves. They are perfectly well aware that their
neighbors are drinking too much--but not themselves. Far be it from
them not to have the will-power to stop when it is time to stop. They
are smarter than their neighbors. They know what they are doing. And
suddenly the explosions come!
There are hundreds of thousands of men in all walks of life in this
country who for twenty or thirty years have never lived a minute when
there was not more or less alcohol in their systems, who cannot be said
to have been strictly and entirely sober in all that time, but who do
their work, perform all their social duties, make their careers and are
fairly successful just the same.
There has been more flub-dub printed and spoken about drinking liquor
than about any other employment, avocation, vocation, habit, practice
or pleasure of mankind. Drinking liquor is a personal proposition, and
nothing else. It is individual in every human relation. Still, you
cannot make the reformers see that. They want other people to stop
drinking because they want other people to stop. So they make laws that
are violated, and get pledges that are broken and try to legislate or
preach or coax or scare away a habit that must, in any successful
outcome, be stopped by the individual, and not because of any law or
threat or terror or cajolery.
This is the human-nature side of it, but the professional reformers
know less about human nature, and care less, than about any other phase
of life. Still, the fact remains that with any habit, and especially
with the liquor habit--probably because that is the most prevalent
habit there is--nine-tenths of the subjects delude themselves about how
much of a habit they have; and, second, that nine-tenths of those with
the habit have a very clear idea of the extent to which the habit is
fastened on others. They are fooled about themselves, but never about
their neighbors! Wherefore the breweries and the distilleries prosper
exceedingly.
However, I am straying away from my story, which has to do with such
drinking as the ordinary man does--not sprees, nor debauches, or
orgies, or periodicals, or drunkenness, but just the ordinary amount
of drinking that happens along in a man's life, with a little too much
on rare occasions and plenty at all times. A German I knew once told me
the difference between Old-World drinking and American drinking was
that the German, for example, drinks for the pleasure of the drink,
while the American drinks for the alcohol in it. That may be so; but
very few men who have any sense or any age set out deliberately to get
drunk. Such drunkenness as there is among men of that sort usually
comes more by accident than by design.
My definition of a drunkard has always been this: A man is a drunkard
when he drinks whisky or any other liquor before breakfast. I think
that is pretty nearly right. Personally I never took a drink of liquor
before breakfast in my life and not many before noon. Usually my
drinking began in the afternoon after business, and was likely to end
before dinnertime--not always, but usually.
CHAPTER III
WHAT I QUIT
I had been drinking thus for practically twenty years. I did not drink
at all until after I was twenty-one and not much until after I was
twenty-five. When I got to be thirty-two or thirty-three and had gone
along a little in the world, I fell in with men of my own station; and
as I lived in a town where nearly everybody drank, including many of
the successful business and professional men--men of affairs--I soon
got into their habits. Naturally gregarious, I found these men good
company. They were sociable and convivial, and drank for the fun of it
and the fun that came out of it.
My business took me to various parts of the country and I made
acquaintances among men like these--the real live ones in the
communities. They were good fellows. So was I. The result was that in a
few years I had a list of friends from California to Maine--all of whom
drank; and I was never at a loss for company or highballs. Then I moved
to a city where there isn't much of anything else to do but drink at
certain times in the day, a city where men from all parts of the
country congregate and where the social side of life is highly
accentuated. I kept along with the procession. I did my work
satisfactorily to my employers and I did my drinking satisfactorily to
myself.
This continued for several years. I had a fixed habit. I drank several
drinks each day. Sometimes I drank more than several. My system was
organized to digest about so much alcohol every twenty-four hours. So
far as I could see, the drinking did me no harm. I was well. My
appetite was good. I slept soundly. My head was clear. My work
proceeded easily and was getting fair recognition. Then some of the
boys began dropping off and some began breaking down. I had occasional
mornings, after big dinners or specially convivial affairs, when I did
not feel very well--when I was out of tune and knew why. Still, I
continued as of old, and thought nothing of it except as the regular
katzenjammer--to be expected.
Presently I woke up to what was happening round me. I looked the game
over critically. I analyzed it coldly and calmly. I put every advantage
of my mode of life on one side and every disadvantage; and I put on the
other side every disadvantage of a change in procedure and every
advantage. There were times when I thought the present mode had by far
the better of it, and times when the change contemplated outweighed the
other heavily.
Here is the way it totted up against quitting: Practically every friend
you have in the United States--and you've got a lot of them--drinks
more or less. You have not cultivated any other line of associates. If
you quit drinking, you will necessarily have to quit a lot of these
friends, and quit their parties and company--for a man who doesn't
drink is always a death's-head at a feast or merrymaking where drinking
is going on. Your social intercourse with these people is predicated on
taking an occasional drink, in going to places where drinks are
served, both public and at homes. The kind of drinking you do makes
greatly for sociability, and you are a sociable person and like to be
round with congenial people. You will miss a lot of fun, a lot of good,
clever companionship, for you are too old to form a new line of
friends. Your whole game is organized along these lines. Why make a
hermit of yourself just because you think drinking may harm you? Cut it
down. Take care of yourself. Don't be such a fool as to try to change
your manner of living just when you have an opportunity to live as you
should and enjoy what is coming to you.
This is the way it lined up for quitting: So far, liquor hasn't done
anything to you except cause you to waste some time that might have
been otherwise employed; but it will get you, just as it has landed a
lot of your friends, if you stay by it. Wouldn't it be better to miss
some of this stuff you have come to think of as fun, and live longer?
There is no novelty in drinking to you. You haven't an appetite that
cannot be checked, but you will have if you stick to it much longer.
Why not quit and take a chance at a new mode of living, especially
when you know absolutely that every health reason, every
future-prospect reason, every atom of good sense in you, tells you
there is nothing to be gained by keeping at it, and that all may be
lost?
Well, I pondered over that a long time. I had watched miserable
wretches who had struggled to stay on the waterwagon--sometimes with
amusement. I knew what they had to stand if they tried to associate
with their former companions; I knew the apparent difficulties and the
disadvantages of this new mode of life. On the other hand, I was
convinced that, so far as I was concerned, without trying to lay down
a rule for any other man, I would be an ass if I didn't quit it
immediately, while I was well and all right, instead of waiting until I
had to quit on a doctor's orders, or got to that stage when I couldn't
quit.
It was no easy thing to make the decision. It is hard to change the
habits and associations of twenty years! I had a good understanding of
myself. I was no hero. I liked the fun of it, the companionship of it,
better than any one. I like my friends and, I hope and think, they like
me. It seemed to me that I needed it in my business, for I was always
dealing with men who did drink.
I wrestled with it for some weeks. I thought it all out, up one side
and down the other. Then I quit. Also I stayed quit. And believe me,
ladies and gentlemen and all others present, it was no fool of a job.
I have learned many things since I went on the waterwagon for
fair--many things about my fellowmen and many things about myself. Most
of these things radiate round the innate hypocrisy of the human being.
All those that do not concern his hypocrisy concern his lying--which, I
reckon, when you come to stack them up together, amounts to the same
thing. I have learned that I had been fooling myself and that others
had been fooling me. I gathered experience every day. And some of the
things I have learned I shall set down.
You have all known the man who says he quit drinking and never thought
of drink again. He is a liar. He doesn't exist. No man in this world
who had a daily habit of drinking ever quit and never thought of
drinking again. Many men, because they habitually lie to themselves,
think they have done this; but they haven't. The fact is, no man with a
daily habit of drinking ever quit and thought of anything else than how
good a drink would taste and feel for a time after he quit. He couldn't
and he didn't. I don't care what any of them say. I know.
Further, the man who tells you he never takes a drink until five
o'clock in the afternoon, or three o'clock in the afternoon, or only
drinks with his meals, or only takes two or three drinks a day, usually
is a liar, too--not always, but usually. There are some machine-like,
non-imaginative persons who can do this--drink by rote or by rule; but
not many. Now I do not say many men do not think they drink this way,
but most of these men are simply fooling themselves.
Again, this proposition of cutting down drinks to two or three a day
is all rot. Of what use to any person are two or three drinks a day? I
mean to any person who drinks for the fun of it, as I did and as most
of my friends do yet. What kind of a human being is he who comes into a
club and takes one cocktail and no more?--or one highball? He's worse,
from any view-point of sociability, than a man who drinks a glass of
water. At least the man who drinks the water isn't fooling himself or
trying to be part one thing and part another. The way to quit drinking
is to quit drinking. That is all there is to that. This paltering along
with two or three drinks a day is mere cowardice. It is neither one
thing nor the other. And I am here to say, also, that nine out of every
ten men who say they only take two or three drinks a day are liars,
just the same as the men who say they quit and never think of it again.
They may not think they are liars, or intend to be liars; but they are
liars just the same.
Well, as I may have intimated, I quit drinking. I drank that last,
lingering Scotch highball--and quit! I decided the no-liquor end of it
was the better end, and I took that end.
CHAPTER IV
WHEN I QUIT
For purposes of comprehensive record I have divided the various stages
of my waterwagoning into these parts: the obsession stage; the caramel
stage; the pharisaical stage, and the safe-and-sane stage. I drank my
Scotch highball and went over to the club. The crowd was there; I sat
down at a table and when somebody asked me what I'd have I took a glass
of water. Several of my friends looked inquiringly at me and one asked:
"On the wagon?" This attracted the attention of the entire group to my
glass of water. I came in for a good deal of banter, mostly along the
line that it was time I went on the wagon. This was varied with
predictions that I would stay on from an hour to a day or so. I didn't
like that talk, but I bluffed it out--weakly, to be sure. I said I had
decided it wouldn't do me any harm to cool out a bit.
Next day, along about first-drink time, I felt a craving for a
highball. I didn't take it. That evening I went over to the club again.
The crowd was there. I was asked to have a drink. This time I rather
defiantly ordered a glass of water. The same jests were made, but I
drank my water. On the third day I was a | 2,185.558675 |
2023-11-16 18:53:29.6302430 | 2,630 | 12 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "YOU HAVE MADE ME ONCE MORE IN LOVE WITH THE GOODNESS OF
GOD, IN LOVE WITH LIFE" See page 325]
Adrian
Savage
A Novel
BY LUCAS MALET
AUTHOR OF
"SIR RICHARD CALMADY"
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXI
[Illustration: Title page]
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED OCTOBER, 1911
TO
GABRIELLE FRANCESCA LILIAN MARY
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED. UPON
HER BIRTHDAY. AS A LOVE-TOKEN
BY
LUCAS MALET
THE ORCHARD, EVERSLEY AUGUST 28, 1911
CONTENTS
I
CONCERNING THE DEAD AND THE LIVING
CHAP.
I. In which the Reader is Invited to Make the Acquaintance of the Hero
of this Book
II. Wherein a Very Modern Young Man Tells a Time-Honored Tale with but
Small Encouragement
III. Telling How René Dax Cooked a Savory Omelette, and Why Gabrielle
St. Leger Looked Out of an Open Window at Past Midnight
IV. Climbing the Ladder
V. Passages from Joanna Smyrthwaite's Locked Book
VI. Some Consequences of Putting New Wine into Old Bottles
VII. In which Adrian Helps to Throw Earth into an Open Grave
VIII. A Modern Antigone
II
THE DRAWINGS UPON THE WALL
I. A Waster
II. The Return of the Native
III. A Straining of Friendship
IV. In which Adrian Sets Forth in Pursuit of the Further Reason
V. With Deborah, under an Oak in the Parc Monceau
VI. Recording the Vigil of a Scarlet Homunculus and Aristides the Just
III
THE OTHER SIDE
I. Recording a Brave Man's Effort to Cultivate His Private Garden
II. A Strategic Movement which Secures Victory while Simulating Retreat
III. In which Euterpe is Called Upon to Play the Part of Interpreter
IV. Some Passages from Joanna Smyrthwaite's Locked Book
V. In which Adrian's Knowledge of Some Inhabitants of the Tower House
is Sensibly Increased
VI. Which Plays Seesaw between a Game of Lawn Tennis and a Prodigal Son
VII. Pistols or Politeness--For Two
VIII. "Nuit de Mai"
IV
THE FOLLY OF THE WISE
I. Re-enter a Wayfaring Gossip
II. In the Track of the Brain-storm
III. In which the Storm Breaks
IV. On the Heights
V. De Profundis
V
THE LIVING AND THE DEAD
I. Some Passages from Joanna Smyrthwaite's Locked Book
II. Recording a Sisterly Effort to Let in Light
III. In which Joanna Embraces a Phantom Bliss
IV. "Come Unto These Yellow Sands"
V. In which Adrian Makes Disquieting Acquaintance with the Long Arm of
Coincidence
VI. Concerning a Curse, and the Manner of Its Going Home to Roost
VII. Some Passages from Joanna Smyrthwaite's Locked Book
VIII. In which a Strong Man Adopts a Very Simple Method of Clearing His
Own Path of Thorns
IX. Wherein Adrian Savage Succeeds in Awakening La Belle au Bois Dormant
PREFATORY NOTE
I will ask my readers kindly to understand that this book is altogether
a work of fiction. The characters it portrays, their circumstances and
the episodes in which they play a part, are my own invention.
Every sincere and scientific student of human nature and the social
scene must, of necessity, depend upon direct observation of life for
his general types--the said types being the composite photographs with
which study and observation have supplied him. But, for the shaping of
individual characters out of the said types, he should, in my opinion,
rely exclusively upon his imagination and his sense of dramatic
coherence. Exactly in proportion as he does this can he claim to be a
true artist. Since the novel, to be a work of art, must be impersonal,
neither autobiographical nor biographical.--I am not, of course,
speaking of the historical novel, whether the history involved be
ancient or contemporary, nor am I speaking of an admitted satire.
I wish further to assure my readers that the names of my characters
have been selected at random; and belong, certainly in sequence of
Christian and surname, to no persons with whom I am, or ever have been,
acquainted. I may also add that although I have often visited
_Stourmouth_ and its neighborhood--of which I am very fond--my
knowledge of the social life of the district is of the smallest, while
my knowledge of its municipal and commercial life is _nil_.
Finally, the lamented disappearance of _La Gioconda_, from the _Salon
Carré_ of the Louvre, took place when the whole of my manuscript was
already in the hands of the printers. May I express a pious hope that
this most seductive of women will be safely restored to her former
dwelling-place before any copies of my novel are in the hands of the
public?
LUCAS MALET.
_August_ 28, 1911
I
CONCERNING THE DEAD AND THE LIVING
ADRIAN SAVAGE
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH THE READER IS INVITED TO MAKE THE
ACQUAINTANCE OF THE HERO OF THIS BOOK
Adrian Savage--a noticeably distinct, well-groomed, and well-set-up
figure, showing dark in the harsh light of the winter afternoon against
the pallor of the asphalt--walked rapidly across the Pont des Arts,
and, about half-way along the _Quai Malaquais_, turned in under the
archway of a cavernous _porte-cochère_. The bare, spindly planes and
poplars, in the center of the courtyard to which this gave access,
shivered visibly. Doubtless the lightly clad, lichen-stained nymph to
whom they acted as body-guard would have shivered likewise had her
stony substance permitted, for icicles fringed the lip of her tilted
pitcher and caked the edge of the shell-shaped basin into which, under
normal conditions, its waters dripped with a not unmusical tinkle. Yet
the atmosphere of the courtyard struck the young man as almost mild
compared with that of the quay outside, along which the northeasterly
wind scourged bitingly. Upon the farther bank of the turgid,
gray-green river the buildings of the Louvre stood out pale and stark
against a sullen backing of snow-cloud. For the past week Paris had
cowered, sunless, in the grip of a black frost. If those leaden
heavens would only elect to unload themselves of their burden the
weather might take up! To Adrian Savage, in excellent health and
prosperous circumstances, the cold in itself mattered nothing--would,
indeed, rather have acted as a stimulus to his chronic appreciation of
the joy of living but for the fact that he had to-day been suddenly and
unexpectedly called upon to leave Paris and bid farewell to one of its
inhabitants eminently and even perplexingly dear to him. Having, for
all his young masculine optimism, the artist's exaggerated sensibility
to the aspects of outward things, and equally exaggerated capacity for
conceiving--highly improbable--disaster, it troubled him to make his
adieux under such forbidding meteorologic conditions. His regrets and
alarms would, he felt, have been decidedly lessened had kindly sunshine
set a golden frame about his parting impressions.
Nevertheless, as--raising his hat gallantly to the concierge, seated in
her glass-fronted lodge, swathed mummy-like in shawls and mufflers--he
turned shortly to the left along the backs of the tall, gray houses, a
high expectation, at once delightful and disturbing, took possession of
him to the exclusion of all other sensations. For the past eighteen
months--ever since, indeed, the distressingly sudden death of his old
friend, the popular painter Horace St. Leger--he had made this selfsame
little pilgrimage as frequently as respectful discretion permitted.
And invariably, at the selfsame spot--it was where, as he noted
amusedly, between the third and fourth of the heavily barred
ground-floor windows a square leaden water-pipe, running the height of
the house wall from the parapet of the steep slated roof, reached the
grating in the pavement--this quickening of his whole being came upon
him, however occupied his thoughts might previously have been with his
literary work, or with the conduct of the bi-monthly review of which he
was at once assistant editor and part proprietor. This quickening
remained with him, moreover, as he entered a doorway set in the near
corner of the courtyard and ran up the flights of waxed wooden stairs
to the third story. In no country of the civilized world, it may be
confidently asserted, do affairs of the heart, even when virtuous,
command more indulgent sympathy than in France. It followed that
Adrian entertained his own emotions with the same eager and friendly
amenity which he would have extended to those of another man in like
case. He was not in the least contemptuous or suspicious of them. He
permitted cynicism no smallest word in the matter. On the contrary, he
hailed the present ebullience of his affections as among those
captivating surprises of earthly existence upon which one should warmly
congratulate oneself, having liveliest cause for rejoicing.
To-day, as usual, there was a brief pause before the door of the
vestibule opened. A space of delicious anxiety---carrying him back to
the poignant hopes and despairs of childhood, when the fate of some
anticipated treat hangs in the balance--while he inquired of the trim
waiting-maid whether her mistress was or was not receiving. Followed
by that other moment, childlike, too, in its deliciously troubled
emotion and vision, when, passing from the corridor into the warm,
vaguely fragrant atmosphere of the long, pale, rose-red and
canvas- drawing-room, he once again beheld the lady of his
desires and of his heart.
From the foregoing it may be deduced, and rightly, that Adrian Savage
was of a romantic temperament, and that he was very much in love. Let
it be immediately added, however, that he was a young gentleman whose
head, to employ a vulgarism, was most emphatically screwed on the right
way. Only child of an eminent English physician of good family, long
resident in Paris, and of a French mother--a woman of great personal
charm and some distinction as a poetess--he had inherited, along with a
comfortable little income of about eighteen hundred pounds a year, a
certain sagacity and decision in dealing with men and with affairs, as
well as quick sensibility in relation to beauty and to drama. Artist
and practical man of the world went, for the most part, very happily
hand and hand in him. At moments, however, they quarreled, to the
production of complications.
The death of both his parents occurred during his tenth year, leaving
him to the guardianship of a devoted French grandmother. Under the
terms of Doctor Savage's will one-third of his income was to be applied
to the boy's maintenance and education until his majority, the
remaining two-thirds being set aside to accumulate | 2,185.650283 |
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Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
A
LEGACY OF FUN
BY
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
WITH
A SHORT SKETCH OF HIS LIFE.
LONDON:
FREDERICK FARRAH, 282, STRAND.
1865.
MEMOIR.
Abe Lincoln, the late President of the United States of America, was
born on the 12th of February, 1809, in Hardin County, in the State of
Kentucky. His grandfather, who emigrated from Virginia to the above
State, was slain by the Indians in 1784. Thomas Lincoln, father of
the President, and Nancy Hawks, his mother, were natives of Virginia.
The opportunities for education enjoyed by Abraham were few and
far between, for at an early age his father needed his assistance
in clearing the forest, and making it a fitting dwelling place for
man. Still, whenever an opportunity presented itself, it was eagerly
grasped, and the result was that, despite of untoward circumstances,
Abraham succeeded in acquiring a decent knowledge of his mother tongue
and the rudiments of an ordinary education.
“At nineteen,” says one of his biographers, “we find him serving as a
common bargeman on a boat plying to New Orleans. In March, 1830, he
accompanied his father to Macon County, Illinois, and helped him to
build a log cabin for the family home, and he made enough rails to
fence in ten acres of land. The next year he was employed as a boat
builder to assist in building a flat-bottomed boat, which he afterwards
took to New Orleans | 2,185.747854 |
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Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock and PG Distributed Proofreaders
ENGLISH LITERATURE
ITS HISTORY AND ITS SIGNIFICANCE
FOR THE LIFE OF THE ENGLISH-SPEAKING
WORLD
A TEXT-BOOK FOR SCHOOLS
BY
WILLIAM J. LONG, PH.D. (Heidelberg)
* * * * *
TO
MY FRIEND
C H T
IN GRATITUDE FOR
HIS CONTINUED HELP IN THE
PREPARATION OF
THIS BOOK
* * * * *
PREFACE
This book, which presents the whole splendid history of English literature
from Anglo-Saxon times to the close of the Victorian Era, has three
specific aims. The first is to create or to encourage in every student the
desire to read the best books, and to know literature itself rather than
what has been written about literature. The second is to interpret
literature both personally and historically, that is, to show how a great
book generally reflects not only the author's life and thought but also the
spirit of the age and the ideals of the nation's history. The third aim is
to show, by a study of each successive period, how our literature has
steadily developed from its first simple songs and stories to its present
complexity in prose and poetry.
To carry out these aims we have introduced the following features:
(1) A brief, accurate summary of historical events and social conditions in
each period, and a consideration of the ideals which stirred the whole
nation, as in the days of Elizabeth, before they found expression in
literature.
(2) A study of the various literary epochs in turn, showing what each
gained from the epoch preceding, and how each aided in the development of a
national literature.
(3) A readable biography of every | 2,185.74963 |
2023-11-16 18:53:29.7306040 | 2,629 | 7 |
Produced by Donald Lainson
SUSY, A STORY OF THE PLAINS
By Bret Harte
From: "ARGONAUT EDITION" OF THE WORKS OF BRET HARTE, VOL. 7
P. F. COLLIER & SON
NEW YORK
SUSY, A STORY OF THE PLAINS
CHAPTER I.
Where the San Leandro turnpike stretches its dusty, hot, and
interminable length along the valley, at a point where the heat and dust
have become intolerable, the monotonous expanse of wild oats on either
side illimitable, and the distant horizon apparently remoter than ever,
it suddenly slips between a stunted thicket or hedge of "scrub oaks,"
which until that moment had been undistinguishable above the long,
misty, quivering level of the grain. The thicket rising gradually in
height, but with a regular <DW72> whose gradient had been determined
by centuries of western trade winds, presently becomes a fair wood of
live-oak, and a few hundred yards further at last assumes the aspect of
a primeval forest. A delicious coolness fills the air; the long, shadowy
aisles greet the aching eye with a soothing twilight; the murmur
of unseen brooks is heard, and, by a strange irony, the enormous,
widely-spaced stacks of wild oats are replaced by a carpet of
tiny-leaved mosses and chickweed at the roots of trees, and the minutest
clover in more open spaces. The baked and cracked adobe soil of the now
vanished plains is exchanged for a heavy red mineral dust and gravel,
rocks and boulders make their appearance, and at times the road is
crossed by the white veins of quartz. It is still the San Leandro
turnpike,--a few miles later to rise from this canada into the upper
plains again,--but it is also the actual gateway and avenue to the
Robles Rancho. When the departing visitors of Judge Peyton, now owner
of the rancho, reach the outer plains again, after twenty minutes'
drive from the house, the canada, rancho, and avenue have as completely
disappeared from view as if they had been swallowed up in the plain.
A cross road from the turnpike is the usual approach to the casa or
mansion,--a long, low quadrangle of brown adobe wall in a bare but
gently sloping eminence. And here a second surprise meets the stranger.
He seems to have emerged from the forest upon another illimitable plain,
but one utterly trackless, wild, and desolate. It is, however, only
a lower terrace of the same valley, and, in fact, comprises the three
square leagues of the Robles Rancho. Uncultivated and savage as it
appears, given over to wild cattle and horses that sometimes sweep in
frightened bands around the very casa itself, the long south wall of the
corral embraces an orchard of gnarled pear-trees, an old vineyard, and
a venerable garden of olives and oranges. A manor, formerly granted by
Charles V. to Don Vincente Robles, of Andalusia, of pious and ascetic
memory, it had commended itself to Judge Peyton, of Kentucky, a modern
heretic pioneer of bookish tastes and secluded habits, who had bought it
of Don Vincente's descendants. Here Judge Peyton seemed to have
realized his idea of a perfect climate, and a retirement, half-studious,
half-active, with something of the seignioralty of the old slaveholder
that he had been. Here, too, he had seen the hope of restoring his
wife's health--for which he had undertaken the overland emigration--more
than fulfilled in Mrs. Peyton's improved physical condition, albeit
at the expense, perhaps, of some of the languorous graces of ailing
American wifehood.
It was with a curious recognition of this latter fact that Judge Peyton
watched his wife crossing the patio or courtyard with her arm around the
neck of her adopted daughter "Suzette." A sudden memory crossed his mind
of the first day that he had seen them together,--the day that he had
brought the child and her boy-companion--two estrays from an emigrant
train on the plains--to his wife in camp. Certainly Mrs. Peyton was
stouter and stronger fibred; the wonderful Californian climate had
materialized her figure, as it had their Eastern fruits and flowers, but
it was stranger that "Susy"--the child of homelier frontier blood and
parentage, whose wholesome peasant plumpness had at first attracted
them--should have grown thinner and more graceful, and even seemed to
have gained the delicacy his wife had lost. Six years had imperceptibly
wrought this change; it had never struck him before so forcibly as on
this day of Susy's return from the convent school at Santa Clara for the
holidays.
The woman and child had reached the broad veranda which, on one side of
the patio, replaced the old Spanish corridor. It was the single modern
innovation that Peyton had allowed himself when he had broken the
quadrangular symmetry of the old house with a wooden "annexe" or
addition beyond the walls. It made a pleasant lounging-place, shadowed
from the hot midday sun by sloping roofs and awnings, and sheltered from
the boisterous afternoon trade winds by the opposite side of the court.
But Susy did not seem inclined to linger there long that morning, in
spite of Mrs. Peyton's evident desire for a maternal tete-a-tete. The
nervous preoccupation and capricious ennui of an indulged child showed
in her pretty but discontented face, and knit her curved eyebrows, and
Peyton saw a look of pain pass over his wife's face as the young girl
suddenly and half-laughingly broke away and fluttered off towards the
old garden.
Mrs. Peyton looked up and caught her husband's eye.
"I am afraid Susy finds it more dull here every time she returns," she
said, with an apologetic smile. "I am glad she has invited one of her
school friends to come for a visit to-morrow. You know, yourself, John,"
she added, with a slight partisan attitude, "that the lonely old house
and wild plain are not particularly lively for young people, however
much they may suit YOUR ways."
"It certainly must be dull if she can't stand it for three weeks in
the year," said her husband dryly. "But we really cannot open the San
Francisco house for her summer vacation, nor can we move from the rancho
to a more fashionable locality. Besides, it will do her good to run
wild here. I can remember when she wasn't so fastidious. In fact, I was
thinking just now how changed she was from the day when we picked her
up"--
"How often am I to remind you, John," interrupted the lady, with some
impatience, "that we agreed never to speak of her past, or even to think
of her as anything but our own child. You know how it pains me! And the
poor dear herself has forgotten it, and thinks of us only as her own
parents. I really believe that if that wretched father and mother of
hers had not been killed by the Indians, or were to come to life again,
she would neither know them nor care for them. I mean, of course,
John," she said, averting her eyes from a slightly cynical smile on
her husband's face, "that it's only natural for young children to be
forgetful, and ready to take new impressions."
"And as long, dear, as WE are not the subjects of this youthful
forgetfulness, and she isn't really finding US as stupid as the rancho,"
replied her husband cheerfully, "I suppose we mustn't complain."
"John, how can you talk such nonsense?" said Mrs. Peyton impatiently.
"But I have no fear of that," she added, with a slightly ostentatious
confidence. "I only wish I was as sure"--
"Of what?"
"Of nothing happening that could take her from us. I do not mean death,
John,--like our first little one. That does not happen to one twice; but
I sometimes dread"--
"What? She's only fifteen, and it's rather early to think about the only
other inevitable separation,--marriage. Come, Ally, this is mere fancy.
She has been given up to us by her family,--at least, by all that we
know are left of them. I have legally adopted her. If I have not made
her my heiress, it is because I prefer to leave everything to YOU, and
I would rather she should know that she was dependent upon you for the
future than upon me."
"And I can make a will in her favor if I want to?" said Mrs. Peyton
quickly.
"Always," responded her husband smilingly; "but you have ample time to
think of that, I trust. Meanwhile I have some news for you which may
make Susy's visit to the rancho this time less dull to her. You remember
Clarence Brant, the boy who was with her when we picked her up, and who
really saved her life?"
"No, I don't," said Mrs. Peyton pettishly, "nor do I want to! You know,
John, how distasteful and unpleasant it is for me to have those dreary,
petty, and vulgar details of the poor child's past life recalled, and,
thank Heaven, I have forgotten them except when you choose to drag
them before me. You agreed, long ago, that we were never to talk of the
Indian massacre of her parents, so that we could also ignore it before
her; then why do you talk of her vulgar friends, who are just as
unpleasant? Please let us drop the past."
"Willingly, my dear; but, unfortunately, we cannot make others do it.
And this is a case in point. It appears that this boy, whom we brought
to Sacramento to deliver to a relative"--
"And who was a wicked little impostor,--you remember that yourself,
John, for he said that he was the son of Colonel Brant, and that he was
dead; and you know, and my brother Harry knew, that Colonel Brant was
alive all the time, and that he was lying, and Colonel Brant was not his
father," broke in Mrs. Peyton impatiently.
"As it seems you do remember that much," said Peyton dryly, "it is only
just to him that I should tell you that it appears that he was not an
impostor. His story was TRUE. I have just learned that Colonel Brant WAS
actually his father, but had concealed his lawless life here, as well
as his identity, from the boy. He was really that vague relative to whom
Clarence was confided, and under that disguise he afterwards protected
the boy, had him carefully educated at the Jesuit College of San Jose,
and, dying two years ago in that filibuster raid in Mexico, left him a
considerable fortune."
"And what has he to do with Susy's holidays?" said Mrs. Peyton, with
uneasy quickness. "John, you surely cannot expect her ever to meet this
common creature again, with his vulgar ways. His wretched associates
like that Jim Hooker, and, as you yourself admit, the blood of an
assassin, duelist, and--Heaven knows what kind of a pirate his father
wasn't at the last--in his veins! You don't believe that a lad of this
type, however much of his father's ill-gotten money he may have, can be
fit company for your daughter? You never could have thought of inviting
him here?"
"I'm afraid that's exactly what I have done, Ally," said the smiling but
unmoved Peyton; "but I'm still more afraid that your conception of his
present condition is an unfair one, like your remembrance of his past.
Father Sobriente, whom I met at San | 2,185.750644 |
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by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Notes:
Underscores "_" before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_
in the original text.
Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals.
Old or antiquated spellings have been preserved.
Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations
in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.
Where double quotes have been repeated at the beginnings of
consecutive stanzas, they have been omitted for clarity.
POEMS BY JULIA C. R. DORR
[Illustration: Julia C. R. Dorr.]
POEMS
BY JULIA C. R. DORR
COMPLETE EDITION
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
MDCCCXCII
COPYRIGHT, 1879, 1885, 1892, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
TROW DIRECTORY
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY
NEW YORK
_TO S. M. D._
_Let us go forth and gather golden-rod!
O love, my love, see how upon the hills,
Where still the warm air palpitates and thrills,
And earth lies breathless in the smile of God,
Like plumes of serried hosts its tassels nod!
All the green vales its golden glory fills;
By lonely waysides and by mountain rills
Its yellow banners flaunt above the sod.
Perhaps the apple-blossoms were more fair;
Perhaps, dear heart, the roses were more sweet,
June’s dewy roses, with their buds half blown;
Yet what care we, while tremulous and rare
This golden sunshine falleth at our feet
And song lives on, though summer birds have flown?
August, 1884._
_Let the words stand as they were writ, dear heart!
Although no more for thee in earthly bowers
Shall bloom the earlier or the later flowers;
Although to-day ’tis springtime where thou art,
While I, with Autumn, wander far apart,
Yet, in the name of that long love of ours,
Tested by years and tried by sun and showers,
Let the words stand as they were writ, dear heart!_
CONTENTS
PAGE
DEDICATION. TO S. M. D. v
EARLIER POEMS.
THE THREE SHIPS, 3
MAUD AND MADGE, 6
A MOTHER’S QUESTION, 8
OVER THE WALL, 9
OUTGROWN, 11
A SONG FOR TWO, 14
A PICTURE, 15
HYMN TO LIFE, 16
THE CHIMNEY SWALLOW, 18
HEIRSHIP, 20
HILDA, SPINNING, 22
HEREAFTER, 25
WITHOUT AND WITHIN, 27
VASHTI’S SCROLL, 29
WHAT MY FRIEND SAID TO ME, 37
HYMN. For the Dedication of a Cemetery, 38
YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY, 39
LYRIC. For the Dedication of a Music-Hall, 41
WHAT I LOST, 43
ONCE! 45
CATHARINE, 47
THE NAME, 48
UNDER THE PALM-TREES, 49
NIGHT AND MORNING, 51
AGNES, 53
“INTO THY HANDS,” 55
IDLE WORDS, 56
THE SPARROW TO THE SKYLARK, 58
THE BELL OF ST. PAUL’S, 60
DECEMBER 26, 1910.
A Ballad of Major Anderson, 62
FROM BATON ROUGE, 66
IN THE WILDERNESS, 68
CHARLEY OF MALVERN HILL, 70
SUPPLICAMUS, 73
THE LAST OF SIX, 75
THE DRUMMER BOY’S BURIAL, 79
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE, 82
OUR FLAGS AT THE CAPITOL, 84
MY MOCKING-BIRD, 86
COMING HOME, 88
WAKENING EARLY, 90
BLEST, 92
HELEN, 94
“PRO PATRIA.”
THE DEAD CENTURY, 97
THE RIVER OTTER, 106
PAST AND PRESENT, 109
VERMONT, 114
GETTYSBURG. 1863-1889. 126
“NO MORE THE THUNDER OF CANNON,” 133
GRANT, 135
FRIAR ANSELMO, AND OTHER POEMS.
FRIAR ANSELMO, 141
THE KING’S ROSEBUD, 146
SOMEWHERE, 147
PERADVENTURE, 148
RENA. A Legend of Brussels, 150
A SECRET, 159
THIS DAY, 161
“CHRISTUS!” 163
THE KISS, 167
WHAT SHE THOUGHT, 168
WHAT NEED? 170
TWO, 172
UNANSWERED, 175
THE CLAY TO THE ROSE, 178
AT THE LAST, 180
TO THE “BOUQUET CLUB,” 181
EVENTIDE, 182
MY LOVERS, 184
THE LEGEND OF THE ORGAN-BUILDER, 186
BUTTERFLY AND BABY BLUE, 190
KING IVAN’S OATH, 192
AT DAWN, 199
IN MEMORIAM, 201
WEAVING THE WEB, 203
THE “CHRISTUS” OF OBERAMMERGAU, 205
RABBI BENAIAH, 206
A CHILD’S THOUGHT, 209
“GOD KNOWS,” 211
THE MOUNTAIN ROAD, 213
ENTERING IN, 215
A FLOWER FOR THE DEAD, 217
THOU KNOWEST, 219
WINTER, 220
FIVE, 221
UNSOLVED, 223
QUIETNESS, 226
THE DIFFERENCE, 227
MY BIRTHDAY, 229
A RED ROSE, 231
TWENTY-ONE, 233
SINGING IN THE DARK, 235
THOMAS MOORE, 236
A LAST WORD, 238
SONNETS.
THE SONNET. I. To a Critic. 241
" " II. To a Poet. 241
AT REST, 243
TOO WIDE! 244
MERCÉDÈS, 245
GRASS-GROWN, 246
TO ZÜLMA, I., II., 247
SLEEP, 249
IN KING’S CHAPEL, 250
TO-DAY, 251
F. A. F., 252
DAY AND NIGHT, I., II., 253
THY NAME, 255
RESURGAMUS, 256
AT THE TOMB, 257
THREE DAYS, I., II., III., 258
DARKNESS, 260
SILENCE, 261
SANCTIFIED, 262
A MESSAGE, 263
WHEN LESSER LOVES, 264
GEORGE ELIOT, 265
KNOWING, 266
A THOUGHT, 267
TO-MORROW, I., II., 268
“O EARTH! ART THOU NOT WEARY?” 270
ALEXANDER, 271
THE PLACE, I., II., III., 272
TO A GODDESS, 274
O. W. H., 275
GIFTS FOR THE KING, 276
RECOGNITION, I., II., 277
SHAKESPEARE, 279
TO E. C. S., 280
A CHRISTMAS SONNET, 281
POVERTY, 282
SURPRISES, I., II., 283
C. H. R., 285
A NEW BEATITUDE, 286
COMPENSATION, I., II., 287
QUESTIONINGS, 289
REMEMBRANCE | 2,185.751506 |
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